Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

i. ARC 1: HIGH INFIDELITY

It wasn’t unheard of for a rival ship to be seized by the Buggy Pirates twice in a row. In a way it had become the Buggy pirate’s trademark, as its crewmates would often boast ‘no one escaped the buggy Pirates!’ So, all in all, it wasn’t particularly unusual when a disembodied ear was found tucked away behind some ignorant lapel, allowing the Buggy Pirates to expertly track the whereabouts of the ship that had narrowly avoided being sunk by circus themed cannons the day before.

Again, the situation was neither profound, or unique, save that the Buggy Pirates had more or less managed to keep their prey in sight of their scopes, leaving the ear to seek out other topics. I cannot stress enough that this was in no way remarkable or shocking. The only wild card here was that one of the crew members of the fleeing Sugar Saint had spent the better part of this cat and mouse chase loudly proclaiming to anyone who would listen, all the vulgar and outlandish acts that she would like to perform upon the Captain of the Buggy pirates: Buggy the Clown himself.

Now, there may have remained some plausible deniability had, in fact, the aforementioned ear not been reclaimed, whilst on said crewmember’s person. It had given the lot of them a fright when the disembodied ear had hopped forth from her well worn satchel and reattached to the top of the flashy pirate’s well sculpted jawline. Maybe it was the grease paint or maybe it was the conflict of emotion in Buggy’s eyes, but what he thought of the entire ordeal had been well concealed.

Now, it wasn’t entirely Pereira’s fault that they had landed themselves in the brig — after all, the majority of us say many a thing that we dare not in the presence of the topic themselves. You see: Pereira was relatively new to the Sugar Saints — a morally gray vessel filled to the brim with bounty hunters and their attendants, Pereira falling into the later category. She had only laid eyes on Captain Buggy for the first time the day prior, and it was safe to say she liked what she saw. And before she could think to regret it, she had ferreted her thoughts away in the minds of those she considered friendly. What was the harm in a little crass talk below deck? Every sailor, marine, pirate, and fisherman had boasted the same way in their days at least once.

Ethical questioning aside, Pereira now sat beside a number of her captured colleagues in a circus themed brig, performing her rendition of shaking in her boots. For this particular blabber mouth, that manifested as complete and unyielding silence. Strawberry hair was worried between calloused fingertips, and the nails upon those fingers were chewed past what was comfortable. Silence stretched out between the lot of them, perhaps nine individuals total.

“Well,” a lean built bounty hunter broke the silence, bumping their shoulder against Pereira’s. They had all been there when Captain Buggy had revealed he’d been listening in on them the past 24 hours via his stowaway ear. “Maybe he’s flattered. We’re not dead yet. And the rest of the crew got away…though I feel he may have felt catching up to you’d do well enough.”

The hunters apprentice shook her head furiously, embarrassed beyond measure. “I may as well have told this man to his face I wanted to keep his member as a pet. I’m murdered for sure.”

Several compatriots shuffled, flinching in second hand embarrassment. That was pretty rough to come back from. And the clown Captain didn’t seem like someone who took kindly to disrespect. He really didn’t seem like he took kindly to anything, flying into fits of rage at a moment’s notice, even in the midst of battle. The man was hardly measured or controlled.

A circus member walked in on their hands, flipping at the last moment to land on their feet, a set of keys perfectly landing in their left palm as they did so. Anything for a flourish. “Capti’n will see y’a now.”

An audible gulp sounded through the brig.

ii.

Captain Buggy was even finer a specimen than Pere remembered, sprawled across a hanging sofa in a mid-sized cabin. Spacious, for what it was, there was a bunk against the far right wall and a desk opposite it. A chaotic span of maps, etchings, and images coated the back wall, including a fair number of WANTED: CAPTAIN BUGGY posters with a variety of bounties listed, each more hefty than the last. The clown had recently refreshed his grease paint; his hat was thrown haphazardly on the desk, only a stripped bandana adorning his head.

The crew member who had escorted Pere wandered off, but not before securing our protagonist’s wrists behind them, tied to their ankles with rope. Luckily, the loops were loose enough that she could comfortably kneel. Her legs weren’t overly thin, but her curves were defined and she lacked any extra padding around her knees. Teal trousers were still soaked from the waves splashing over the deck as she’d been hauled aboard.

“So,” Buggy’s tone was measured, “I hear we’ve got a story teller on our hands. I love a good story.” There was a haughty lite to the statement, the knowledge of her intense attraction to him hanging in the air between them. God, what all did he hear? When had her words caught his attention? Pere hoped he didn’t think she’d been mocking him. His crew had drowned people for less. The distance between the two measured three, maybe four paces. And yet, it felt as though he was looming over her. He set his boots to the floor, leaning ever closer.

“Now now. No point in being shy. Tell me all about the fun we’re going to have together. We both know how far your imagination likes to stretch.” Innuendo mixed with malice, and Pere would have given her favorite pair of rifles to know what he was thinking. His cherry lips drew into a wicked grin. It was vicious, menacing, yet something fluttered deep in her stomach all the same.

Buggy took to his feet, closing the distance between them only to lift her up by her under arms and throw her on the sofa. The apprentice sharpshooter landed in an even more awkward position, trapped on her side with her legs behind her. There was a flinch as she made contact with the cushion, one pale wrist twisting in the rope. Either he was at least mildly angry, or he simply didn’t care for her well being – Pere suspected it was a mix of both.

The pirate reached behind her, snapping the center rope in one over-powered yank, though the knots securing her wrists and ankles to themselves stayed intact. “Sit up.” Buggy demanded. Pere obliged. The young woman took the momentary silence to wriggle her arms out from behind her, pulling her knees in so she could loop her arms around to the front. It was a risky move, but the Captain allowed it for whatever reason, even as he settled himself on the opposite end of the sofa. There was only a single cushion between them, an arm's length.

Pere could smell the salt on his skin, mixed in with the natural spice of testosterone. There was something additional, something citrus that she couldn’t place. By the waves and the sun, he was handsome. The clown paint did little to disguise his masculinity. His leather pants hugged his muscular legs in all the right places, and his coat was missing, revealing his toned and tanned arms. Pere held back a shudder of anticipation, willing her filthy thoughts to subside. Here she was, about to be murdered, and all she could think about was what his abs probably looked like.

Buggy took in the sight of her blown out pupils, the sweat collecting on her collarbone, and the telltale way she shifted to press her knees closer together. Something changed behind his eyes. “You really want to fuck me.” A realization.

Chapter Text

iii. 

“Huh!” The clown rocked back in his seat. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my fair share of women. But it’s always been a deal of sorts. They’d come seeking safe passage, gold, a name for themselves. And if their pitch was entertaining enough, I’d indulge their offer. But you…” 

Buggy summoned his blades abruptly, slicing through the buttons on her shirt and the clasps holding her bustier together in one fell swoop, exposing her breasts. Crystal blue eyes tracked the rise and fall of her chest with new fascination. Tucking his blades away, a gloved hand ghosted over the underside of her breast. Pere nearly stopped breathing. She might have been drooling. All thoughts had flown straight out the port hole. 

“You’re falling to pieces at the thought of me.” He lets loose an accomplished chuckle. “Oh, this changes things. This is so much more fun than a punishment for disrespect.” 

Removing his hand from her breast, he raises it to his mouth and captures the corner of his glove between his teeth. Tanned skin is barred to the air. “I’m gonna need to feel this next part. Something tells me you’re already dripping.” His hands detach from his wrists, spiraling through the air behind her back and making quick work of her trousers. Her panties he simply rips through and throws to the side upon reassembling himself. “I’ll give you a treat, since you’ve been such an honest, good girl.” Pere is kneeled in front of him, entirely nude. 

Buggy cups her chin in his palm. His hot breath ghosts along the woman’s ear as he leans close to whisper to her. “But what should it be? Any ideas, little bird?” His smirk stretches his mouth wide. Silence reigns in the cabin, the apprentice partially humiliated and partially turned on beyond measure. What on earth was happening? Did she hit her head? Her thoughts were racing, but she had no time to catch up with them before the clown was speaking again, “Whatsa matter? Drawing a blank? Should I jog your memory?” 

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. What all had he heard? This was like being haunted by someone who wasn’t even dead yet. Why couldn’t she learn to keep her mouth shut? This had to be some sick and twisted game that ended with her walking the plank. The tightrope? What was the carnie equivalent here? Pere squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would make sense of the whole situation. 

The pirate captain let loose a low chuckle. “What was it that you said? Oh, yeah. That you’d like my cock to live inside you, fucking you day in and day out whilst everyone was none the wiser? So creative.” He bared his teeth, “Or that you’d like to suck my cock whilst my body was sans the head, and have me guess who? A rigged game, if you ask me, as we’ve hardly been acquainted.” That gave him pause, if only for a moment. “Tell me your name, sweetheart.” 

It took every last bit of self control the ginger had to not moan at that. “...-Pereira. It’s Pereira.” She uttered, voice breathy and strained. 

“Buggy.” He intoned. “But you knew that.” 

Chapter Text

iv. 

Pereira carefully opened one eye, keeping her gaze downward. As long as she didn’t look him in the eye, she could keep it together. Clothes be damned. They were just two sea faring folks, having a conversation. Having a conversation to the tune of his massive, leather encased boner that she was now making strong eye contact with. Holy fuck. This was affecting him. He wasn’t kidding. Which was a lot to expect of a clown, albeit a drop dead gorgeous one. 

“Well, Pereira. I’m the ringmaster around here. I make the plans.” His laugh was feral, maniac. “And oh, do we have plans together. So many fun little plans.” 

“Listen…” The woman began, pleading. “I’m...sorry I disrespected you. I took it too far. I…will learn to watch my mouth, I swear.” 

Buggy frowned. Something shimmered across his face – anger? Disappointment? He scowled. “Oh, silly little bird. What good is an apology?” His hand encased the underside of her jaw, squeezing either side of her face.  “When I say you’re fucked , take it literally.” 

There was rage there, it seemed, as he shoved her backwards to fall against the arm of the sofa. The clown produced a dagger and severed the ropes tying Pere’s ankles together. He speared the dagger to the side, impaling it in the wooden wall above their heads. Buggy wasted no time in spreading her legs and looming over her. His pelvis settled between her thighs, the only thing separating their sexes being the leather layer of his pants. 

“You’re obsessed with me,” he growled, “admit it! Admit it and I’ll play nice.” His energy was crazed, frantic, nearly wanton. “…for now.” 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Is it a trap? The second she plead guilty he was going to stab her, she just knew it. Pere was all talk, she was absolutely terrible with men and she knew it. She’d been laid a total of like, two times the entire journey since she left her home village. And those men hadn’t been half as hot as this clown. Well, what the hell? If she was going to die either way, might as well play the game. It wasn’t like she was going to get far if she ran, the remains of her shirt caught around the ropes on her wrists wouldn’t do much to protect her from the elements. This was quite literally her only play. 

A shallow gulp of air. “I’m…obsessed with you. I fucking love the way you look. And sound. Holy shit. I want you, no, need you in every position I’ve ever heard of, and some we’ll have to make up. If you don’t fuck me at this point, I may literally lose my mind. My pussy is throbbing and it’s entirely your fault.” And there she was, taking it way too far. Running her mouth again. Damn, that promise lasted all of five seconds. 

Risking a peak at his reaction, Pere found the clown frozen above her, face set in a pained grimace. Perhaps it would have seemed like disgust, save in the next moment he moaned out, “—fuck.”, and smashed his lips to hers in a brutal kiss. 

She reciprocated intensely, immediately addicted. The pirate’s hips ground down against hers, his rock hard member rocking into her center. It was brutal; the heat between them threatening to eat her alive.

Chapter Text

v.

Buggy was breathing hard when he pulled back, overwhelmed. That’s all he wanted, ultimately. To be worshiped. It’s what he deserved. He was the greatest pirate, the greatest entertainer, if only the world could see…but she did. This woman saw him. Praised him. Craved him in his entirety. 

“Good girl,” the pirate groaned out. “You’ve earned another treat.”  He reached for the sash holding his pants, unlacing it. A wicked grin spread across his face. “Y’a know, it does work like that.” 

Buggy savored the expression of shocked anticipation on her face, loving how she looked just a little afraid. Then he let his member detach and hover between them as Pere squirmed in elated horror. Not for mercy, but for flare, he allowed the appendage to slowly advance on her, slipping between her nether lips and finding it’s way inside her. The clown held back a moan, still having all the sensation as if it was still attached.

Meanwhile, Pere was absolutely losing her mind. The woman was a mess of moaning, squirming, and screaming. And let it never be said that Buggy wasn’t a people pleaser. Constantly obsessing over the quality and presentation of the circus made getting a gauge for audience appreciation — and right now he was receiving a standing ovation. And she ain’t seen nothing yet. This was merely the product of her own imaginings coming to life. The encore was where he’d really blow her mind. 

She was tight, even despite her arousal, hinting that it had been at least some weeks since she had laid with a man. The clown understood female anatomy well enough, he knew how resilient it could be, he listened. Which made this all the more thrilling — he had no intent of giving her any reprieve from the constant stimulation he was piling upon her. His member was pistoning inside her, filling and stretching her to her limits. The sound of her wetness filled the cabin, echoing with each disembodied thrust. 

After a time of watching his handiwork unfold, Buggy shoved his hips forward, abruptly reattaching his cock to his body. His torso draped over Pere’s, the sensation of being whole compounding with that of her skin ghosting over his. It was overwhelming, but all at once not enough. Never breaking the rhythm, he leaned back to tear away his shirt and vest, stripping his upper body down to the skin. The toned muscles of his abdominal were actively flexed with the slight contortion, drawing the woman’s eyes. 

The pirate smirked, pace becoming even more brutal, “Cat got y’a tongue? I don’t recall telling you to stop singing my praises. All good shows come with an announcer, little bird.”

Chapter Text

vi.

The unyielding assault on her sex had Pere seeing stars. She’d died, certainly. Obviously, she’d admitted her stalker level interest in a high level pirate captain and he’d killed her. End of story. And this…this was all some redemptive fever dream as her soul was dragging into Davy Jones’ locker. That made sense. That was logical. 

Because this being reality? Preposterous. That was like waking up Christmas morning and finding out St. Nicholas brought you an entire stable, forget the one pony you asked for. That being said, the soreness building in her gut from having her legs held in the same position for an extended period of time felt very real. And not particularly mythical at all. 

She should do something. Say something. On thé off chance this was real. On the fantastical notion that she’d wished upon a falling star and everything turned out just the way she imagined, she’d attempt to focus on the words coming out of his perfectly formed mouth. 

The pleasure flooding her system was so beyond any discomfort that she could be experiencing. It was even better than she could have fathomed. Her past lovers had been flings, at best, and only in it for themselves. Buggy…well, she still wasn’t sure who he was in it for, but he was in it deep. Very, very deep. Her grey eyes locked with his blue ones, “yeah, uh, can I have another kiss?”…Why the FUCK did she say that?

The pirate froze, seeming to malfunction. After processing for a moment, he punched the wall above her head in a sporadic motion.”Fuck!” He exclaimed. Tan fingers buried themselves into blue hair. He tilted his head back as though to scream, yet only let out a muffled sigh. Gaze returning to her, his expression turned dark.  

Something sinister was creeping in behind his eye, something bordering on obsession. Buggy ripped the knife out of the wall and used it to finally cut her hands free. His fingers grasped at the arm, almost like he was imagining choking her. “Get on the bed.” The demand was spoken with frustration, the clown pulling out of her and crossing the room, though he made no attempt to conceal his now wet, hardened member. 

Legs shaking, the woman made every attempt to follow, only to be thwarted by gravity. Buggy moved faster than her eyes could track, catching her under her arm and dragging her after him and he fell back on the bunk. This action flipped their prior positions. Pere was now sprawled against his bare chest. Her leg had settled between his thigh. Somehow, she felt even more vulnerable than before. She no longer felt like a captor. She felt like a woman, with some feeble power over a man. 

“Was…was that a turn off?” She asked cautiously. The wind seemed to have been taken out of her sails. 

The clown sighed. “Listen, baby, you can’t say shit like that to me.” 

“Oh,” the response was repentant, “is it overstepping?”

His grip on her arm tightened. The laugh that came next was low, dangerous. “No, it just makes me want to ruin you. Fill you with my cum day in day out, break you.” 

“Like, cum in my mouth?” Impulsive, as ever. 

“JES-US!” Buggy jolted underneath her. For a moment, he seemed to forget his previous thought. “Fuck, you are a glutton for punishment. You’re supposed to be begging me to stop by now, not asking me to blow my load in your face.” 

“…well, you haven’t blown it anywhere yet.” She muttered, disappointment readily apparent. 

Buggy grabbed her by the face and squeezed. “Sweetheart, I’m going to fuck you within an inch of your life, just give me a damn second to process.” 

Chapter Text

vii. 

Pere didn’t want him to gather his thoughts. She wanted him to mindlessly ravish her. So she asked again. She totally wasn’t hoping to set him off. Totally not. “So…is that a no on the kiss?” 

The pirate gave her a dirty look, but didn’t respond. The apprentice really had a problem with pushing her luck. Scooting forward a little, she shifted her leg from between his and moved to straddle him. Placing her hands on his chest, she locked eyes with him in challenge. He raised a brow. She inched forward and…

A hand, no arm attached, snatched both of her wrists up in one, nearly suspending her in the air. Pere’s knees stayed put, yet she was stretched far enough that her pelvis was now hovering above his. The soft curves of her breasts lifted upwards. 

“Oh, a kiss?” The clown mocked, propping himself up on his elbows. “You want a kiss? You’re driving me fucking crazy.” 

The fear from earlier started to close in on the edges of Pere’s mind. This pirate was trouble. Big trouble. Certainly not someone to get involved with, nope. No siree. And here she was, completely immobilized, completely at his mercy, armed only with a smart mouth for defense. The carnie crew had found nine out of ten of her weapons, and the throwing needles she kept in the lining of her pants were now woefully out of reach. 

Whilst his left hand was occupied restraining her, his right was still free to do as he wished. His fingers smoothed around the contours of her hips, creeping higher to caress her ribs and breasts. The action seemed uncharacteristically gentle. That probably wasn’t a good sign. Calm before the storm, and all that. 

Then all hell broke loose. 

Lunging upwards, the Captain took one of her nipples in his mouth and roughly palmed the other. His lips were hot and wet against her skin. Pere arched her back, seeking more contact, and he obliged, oh, he obliged. That floating hand jerked her down and forward, collapsing her body fully onto his lap. They intertwined, desperately seeking all manner of depravity from the other. 

Sweat was starting to collect on both their skin. Each time they shifted, their limbs glided across the others. Everything was so, so hot. The humidity in the cabin seemed to climb with every passing moment. They explored each other's bodies with hands, tongues, and lips. 

Buggy nipped, sucked, and bruised her mouth with his. Teeth clinked together. In the process, the pirate's pants got pushed down to his knees, but never beyond that. The roughness of the leather brushing against Pere’s lower legs made the whole experience feel that much more filthy. 

The woman was lost, overwhelmed, starstruck — the pirate was consuming her whole. She lost track of time as the clown switched wildly between torturing her lips with his, sucking a line of bruises down her neck, and burying his cock in her. His physical strength far surpassed hers, and she was helpless to resist his whims. 

The man pried every dirty, secret thought she’d ever had from her and forced her to voice them aloud. At times, the sentiments she conceptualized weren’t even possible, let alone probable, but she could see Buggy mentally storing each one away for later use all the same. Later? The thought was sharp, momentarily cutting through the fog. Where did they go from here? 

As abruptly the notion had come, it was gone as the clown hiked her ankle over his shoulder and continued pounding in her. He had her several times, in several positions, filling her up with his cum more than once. Her only partial reprieve was his short refractory period, where he proceeded to torture her nipples and clit with his fingers until he was ready to penatrate her again. 

It was brutal, desperate. The sensations couldn’t come fast enough, weren’t strong enough. Buggy’s cursed flesh was unyielding — never bruising, never tearing. But Pere already could feel the marks forming around her wrists, ankles, hip, neck, and a number of other places. 

This went on until the light dipped low outside the ship, casting them into the golden dimness that precursored night. It was hours until they limped to a stop — spent, overwhelmed, and all consumed. Buggy was snoring even before his member slipped out of Pere, leaving her frozen and hesitant to dare lay beside him. 

The woman carefully extracted herself from the tangle of limbs, crawling across the cabin to see what she could salvage of her clothing. Only then did she see the padlock on the inside of the door. One of his hands must have snuck away to put it there during all the chaos. Hence why the pirate that was always two steps ahead let his guard down enough to sleep. 

Something told her the games were just beginning. 

Chapter Text

viii. 

The lock clicked into place around Pete’s ankle, effectively chaining her to the ground. “Is this really necessary?”

Buggy kneeled before her, fingers lingering a little too long around her calf before he set her foot back to the ground. He smirked. “Just think of it as a weird sex thing. You love weird sex things.” 

Glancing around the audience, she noticed two things — one, most of the others chained up in the audience were crying, boo, and two, she was the only one the captain was personally shackling himself. “What,” she inquired, “don’t trust me?” 

The man snickered openly. “Not at all.” 

“But—“ Pere began. 

A white gloved hand reached up to tilt her chin back with one finger. The pirate's expression was cryptic, but there was a trace of amusement. “ I think you’re an impulsive little shit ruled by whatever makes her pussy throb. And until I’m sure that’s me and only me, you’re on a short leash.” He let a huff of hot air out over her face. “Now enjoy the show.” 

As he sauntered off, the woman reflected on the events leading up to the evening. When she’s finally calmed down enough to doze off, she’d done so on the sofa, only to be unceremoniously dragged back into the bunk in the early hours of the morning. The pirate didn’t explain his motivations, and she didn’t ask. They’d docked somewhere, in the night, and when she awoke the second time, Buggy was gone and someone was screaming outside. Cannon fire rocked the boat every so often. She entertained the idea that they were firing at something on land. The situation was morally complex, but she was no angel. Her body count that related to bloodshed was markedly higher than the one to do with pleasure. 

By the seas, she must have cum a dozen times the night before. 

The woman glanced down at the shackle on her leg, knowing she could pick it with the needles she’d managed to furrow away from her old trousers if need be. The clothes she wore now were no doubt stolen, but certainly stolen with her in mind. While her natural style was loose, relaxed, and bohemian, Buggy had styled her in a way that emphasized assets she wasn’t sure she had.

The deep purple linen dress tied at the front, squeezing her breasts together to create an appealing shape at the top of the neckline. Underneath were plum colored bloomers — a garment she didn’t recall ever having worn in life. They were soft and created a flattering illusion of fuller hips. Not that she needed them. Pere had always carried her weight in her hips and thighs. 

She typically disguised her lower half with layered linens to avoid too much interest from townsmen when they went to shore to collect bounties. Not that she had to worry about being nonconsensually ogled here, not when a murderous clown had identified her as ‘his stuff’. Pere wouldn’t call it jealousy. Not at this point. It was more to the effect of not wanting the other kids to play with your toys. 

In her short time aboard the Sugar Siren, Pere hadn’t excelled at much. That’s why she didn’t have one designated mentor. She was a stand in, a second choice, a backup plan when one of the primary apprentices were otherwise occupied. The bounty hunters wanted apprentices unique to them, having either complementary or matching skill sets. Pere could shoot, but she only hit her target about half the time. She could sword fight, but only well enough to hold most enemies off, not to defeat them. She could run, jump, throw, sew, cook, and box as well as most, but not the slightest bit better.

So, while she was friendly with just about everyone aboard the hunting ship, no one had any real claim to her. And from what she could tell, she’d entertained Buggy enough that he’d let the other captives walk free. 

No longer trapped in a confined space with him, she felt some of her gumption returning. Her personality, she swore she actually had one, was sort of based around trying to be the funniest one in the room. That striving probably stemmed from never being the best at anything. She adapted her characteristics to be most palatable to those around her, but that wouldn’t work here. Buggy’s band of freaks were nothing if not true to themselves, and the Captain himself was a complete anomaly. Most of his reactions made little sense. The red head was only still alive by the skin of her teeth and sheer dumb luck. 

Music blared suddenly. Stage lights powered up from the back of house. A spotlight illuminated Buggy (the Clown!) in all his glory a choreographed performance started to play out. They smiled; they danced; Buggy screamed at each of them individually for messing up his tempo. A mediocre time was had by all. He was volatile, messy, and ill mannered. 

And by all the seas, she had to figure out how to have him. 

Chapter Text

ix.

The clown’s inner monologue wouldn’t let him live. Compared to the company he usually kept, their newest addition was outright boring on paper. No one trait of hers stood out beyond the others. Buggy had told his crew that morning that he was keeping her around because he saw potential in her. In reality, he just saw his dick in her. Repeatedly. Multiple times a day. He wanted to keep her the way a coin collector might want to keep a paper berry. She didn’t fit in his collection, but she looked extra fancy sitting next to them. 

The strange thing was he hadn’t noticed her during their first battle. What was that first comment he’d covertly heard that made him want to listen in? Could he recall? He’d been sitting in his cabin, bored out of his mind. The Buggy pirates only sailed every now again — they preferred conquering towns to other ships. They’d initially come upon the Sugar Saint after an overly ambitious bounty hunter had tried to ambush the captain on shore. The ambitious entrepreneur was quickly overwhelmed and fled back to their ship just as it was leaving port. No amount of ire could bring back Buggy’s ability to swim, so the pirates took to their ship to pursue. 

Racking his brain, the clown couldn’t recall Pere being present at all when they waylaid the hunting vessel. He liked the way she looked — he’d have noticed that before anything else. Fuck, this was making it hard to focus on the flow of the show. The sound of her crew mates chattering about had been dull and lifeless. It was no wonder that she fixated on him. Poor girl was starved for a little excitement. 

A covert grin tugged at the clown’s lips. He remembered now. “Oh, don’t pretend it’s just me that wants to fuck the clown. Y’all are kidding yourselves.” She’d intoned flippantly. That had certainly caught his hearing's attention. He liked a bold introduction. Really made the presentation pop. That had only been the tip of the iceberg. She’d gone on to far grander schemes. Far dirtier, more graphic pounderings. 

A clattering to his left alerted him to a shift in the agenda — his map had arrived. The chicken shits that stole it being sealed up in a tiny box was just the icing on the cake. His carnies carried the container to the middle of the ring, dropping it there to be cracked open when the time was right. 

Buggy scanned the audience, the majority of which was watching the display listlessly. Crystal eyes narrowed in on Pere in the highest row. Of course the little pervert was absolutely transfixed on him. He threw his leg over the side of his makeshift throne, not missing the way her eyes darted down to his groin before forcing themselves back to his face. They locked eyes, and he inclined his head as though to say ‘feel free to look,”. Pere licked her lips. She was so transparent. The imagining of taking his cock in her mouth, of kneeling before him in worship was all too apparent in her wide eyes. Maybe he’d give her a nice, private encore later. After he took care of his guests, that was. 

The crate’s walls gave way when the carnies gave them a sharp tug revealing…three dumb kids. Great. The marines security must be going to shit these days. 

…that’s what he thought. Until those stupid assholes defeated his crew and humiliated him, locking him piece by piece in a series of boxes. The clown couldn’t remember being this angry. He’d been reduced to just a head on a pile of feet and hands. And, as it turned out, a grip without leverage didn’t do a whole lot when it came to opening trunks. The Straw Hat punks had knocked out his crew and freed all his prisoners and RUINED his performance. 

Buggy watched the townspeople one by one filter out the door of the tent, including Pere. The woman glanced covertly back at him as she did so, though he couldn’t read much in that look.  Couldn’t blame her. She was taking advantage of being an extra in this scene. Why shouldn’t she claim the perk of freedom? The curvy woman would likely scamper off to find her next flavor of the month, like a mime or some fucking thing. God, it fired him up just to think about it. 

The sudden burst of energy allowed him to pry off the lid of the chest containing his left arm, changing the game entirely. Buggy reassembled himself, muttering and murmuring about how unfair it was the whole time. He’d use this moment as an excuse, later, as to how he was caught off guard and dragged away by Arlong’s fishmen. 

No one noticed the whisper of pressing their back against canvas from the back of the tent in the commotion. No one heard the soft gasp, the shuffle to drop to the ground. And no one saw the eyes peering through the darkness watching the Captain being carted off. 

Chapter Text

ix.

One minute her newly acquired lover was looking like an entire meal center stage, the next everything had gone to shit. Pere knew not to blow her cover. So, when the rest of the audience members were ‘rescued’, she went too. She found herself hovering just outside the tent. 

Their supposed rescue party didn’t look like much, but every bounty hunter alive knew Zoro on sight. The swordsman had collected so many bounties that every other time the Sugar Saint docked at the marina, she’d seen him there. There was less intensity behind his eyes than she remembered. She cursed herself as he caught her staring. Luckily, he only offered her a strong nod, probably hoping to comfort her.  

The majority of the circus was still strung around the area, unconscious on the ground. Buggy could still be heard cursing loudly from inside. The ragtag trio wandered off. Pere supposed they wanted to get back to the sea before they got kidnapped by someone else seeking out this mythical pirate map. Was she simple minded? Should she be on some worldly quest to find treasure? Should she go back inside and make sure the Captain located all of her favorite appendages? 

Snap out of it, Pere. 

She had goals. Dreams. Ambitious. She just couldn’t remember what they were right now. 

Fuck, she had dumbitchitis. 

“Ma’am?” A young resident walked up to her — a bright eyed man in his 20s with blue eyes, dimples, the works. “Are you alright? I saw that crazy clown in there looming over you earlier. You must have been terrified.” 

“Huh?” Her mouth opened, shut, then opened again. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Petrified. He was just. Horrifying.” Horrifyingly sexy. “I’m so glad we’re all safe now. Really, it’s a miracle.” 

The brunette gave her a sweet smile. “I’m so relieved you’re alright. You’re not from here, right? I can’t believe he dragged you all the way out to this place. Do you need somewhere to stay?” His gaze scanned her up and down, clearly appreciating the view. 

This was not her forte. “Whew, uh. Gosh. I wish but. I have to get headed home. Find a ship. Pay a fare. The works. Bye bye now.” And then she very awkwardly sprint/not sprinted around the back of the tent. Pants, she needed pants. And something to eat. But mostly pants. She was overdressed and under qualified. 

The woman got down in the dirt, wriggling herself under the canvas wall of the tent. Just in time to see the object of her obsession get snatched up by shark people. 

Ah hem. Fishmen. Political correctness, all that. 

Whatever flavor seafood they were, they were not going to stand in her way of getting laid rescuing Buggy. 

Chapter Text

x.

By the time Pere caught up with the fish pirates, Buggy was already missing his head. Flagging down a ship going in this direction had been hard enough, let alone convincing them a woman dressed in linen and lace could withstand the journey. By the seas, she missed her old clothes. Too bad they were in shreds on a pirate ship's floor. Oh well. Live and literally never learn. 

They had his body hung up like a prize at the fair. If not for the constant twitching of his hands and feet, she’d have thought they’d killed him. To her understanding, he couldn’t be cut. But did that mean he couldn’t die at all? Pere shook her head. No time for big existential questions at the moment. She needed to focus on getting him down without being noticed and then she’d find his head later. 

It was time to be strategic. She couldn’t cut the ropes, because if she failed to move him in time, they’d realize she was around. The redhead stayed ducked under a set of shelves until the chatter of the pirates around became distant. The ropes around his feet were easier to undo, though the ones on his wrists took some trial and error. Finally, the loops came free and the body fell. She foolheartedly tried to catch him. Bad idea. The flashily clad figure came crashing down on top of her, way heavier than expected. It was kind of eerie — watching the headless frame struggle to catch itself without sight. 

Fuck. She couldn’t lift him. She probably couldn’t even drag him. The clown was way more densely built than he looked. Pushing with all her might, she managed to roll him off of her and she sat there panting for a moment. This whole thing was really similar to one of the fantasies she’d had about him, but she didn’t expect it to be under such dire circumstances. 

Pere eyed the frame beside her, tempted. After all, she was already here…

Meanwhile, elsewhere…

“YOWSA!”, yelled a clown head from inside a canvas bag, “Sweet baby Jeez-us.” A pause. Contemplation. Sudden giddiness. “That little shit.” There was a long moan. 

Sanji and Zoro exchanged a pitying look, assuming Arlong’s men must be torturing Buggy’s body in retaliation for losing his head to them. 

Chapter Text

xi.

The sash holding the clown’s pants in place didn’t last long; Pere yanked the leather attire down to his knees. She took a moment to revel in the unexpected softness of his inner thighs, trailing her fingers along his legs. Gripping either side, she pushed his legs apart and tucked down between them. His body language was clearly confused, contemplative. Carefully one hand groped around in the air, settling in her hair. Gloves fingers rolled an apple colored strand between them, tracking the length of her locks. The hand still, for a moment, then abruptly made a grab for the back of her hair. 

The (former?) apprentice ducked under the floundering limb, bringing her mouth level with his groin. She tugged down his undergarment in one smooth motion. Before he had time to navigate his next blind move, Pere had taken his hardening cock into her mouth. This wasn’t something she was used to, she’d only ever gone down on one other man, and she was pretty sure she’d accidentally bit that man. The difference was, this time, she was motivated to impress. 

Bobbing her head, she took as much of the member into her mouth as possible. Saliva slicked the length of it, making her efforts a little smoother. Up close, she took note that his penis was both long and girthy, perfectly straight along the sides with the slightest curve upwards at the base. It was elegant, though admittedly didn’t taste all that good. The hot sun had made the skin salty with sweat and the sand that covered everything there had her teeth and tongue feeling gritty and dirty. She had thought she’d feel powerful. Free. But instead she just felt…transparent? Desperate? Depressed? Like a little bit of a loser?

The lack of noise and facial expressions made this way less fun than she was expecting. Could he even feel with his head so far away? Was his head far away? Dejected, Pere pulled back, letting the length of flesh slip out of her mouth — or, she meant to. The moment she released the suction, a strong hand found the back of her hair and forced the cock back into her mouth. 

The woman gagged, startled. She was given no time to collect herself before her head was pulled back and pushed down again. Sight be damned, the clown set a punishing pace. He had her choking, drooling, and helpless to resist. What was happening began to sink in for her, and an overwhelming  pressure started to build between her legs. Holy fuck. Her sex ached. What had started out on a whim had turned intense, rough, and hot. There had been no oral between them. It felt too personal, too vulnerable. Any man would hesitate to have potentially hostile teeth that close to his center. 

Maybe the fantasy wasn’t in the guessing, but rather in the intimacy. Anyone could tell Pere had emotional issues. She obsessed over mentally unstable, violent men. Man? This honestly wasn’t the first time. But she talked a big talk, and that’s all it usually was. She only made herself open to connection when she knew she was incapable of any actual admiration for her partner. 

By all the seas and sails, she was burning up. Had she been in control of her body, she would have tried to ride him already. Alas, this was no longer her decision. This was no longer her idea. She’d gotten a dangerous man riled up and something told her the consequences didn’t end here. Gods, she wanted him. 

She wanted him. She wanted him. She wanted him. 

The pleasure was unbearable. Painful, in more ways than one. Her dripping heat was woefully unattended to, soaking the bloomers that served as her undergarments. She dare not touch herself. The chances of getting caught by the fish pirates in this position weren’t nearly as frightful as the fear that Buggy may know . He might feel her arm brushing his leg as she shifted, or maybe her hands pulling back from their place on his thighs would be telltale enough. 

All she could do was…help. She put her weight on her knees, relaxed her throat, fully let him fuck her face in earnest. Wetness presented on her cheeks, either her eyes watering. Or she could genuinely be crying because it felt so good . Between her legs felt soft, swollen, pulsing. Every time she got involved with him it was too little and far, far too much all at once. 

He was addicting. It was terrifying. When she had resigned herself to this the first time, it had been in the interest of getting it out of her system. Never meet your heroes, or something like that. If he could only bore her. If he could only learn to disappoint. Then she could move on, then she could hit the road and not look back and simply stay out of his sight, peacefully, the rest of her days. Instead, she felt high. She felt drunk. She felt thirsty, hungry, — needy.  

The motion of her head stilled, and a shudder racked over the clown’s body. His grip on her hair tighted as he came, forcing her to swallow every last drop of his cum. The tears were coming heavy now. It wasn’t enough. She wanted to crawl on the ground before him and beg him to brutalize her. To bite her lips bloody, to taste the inside of her. And she wanted him to make her beg long and hard. Until her voice was horse. But he had no ears to hear. No eyes to see. 

Finally, the figure having been properly satisfied, the pirate released her. Pere scrambled away, overwhelmed. 

She had to get the fuck away from him. 

Chapter Text

xii. 

During the time it took to walk from the boat to Arlong’s park, it had become increasingly hard to argue that the sounds Buggy was making were sounds of pain. 

Zoro and Sanji just kind of…stopped talking to each other. Stop looking at each other. Kind of stopped acknowledging that the other was there entirely. What on any water was happening to the clown on the other side? 

Only when Arlong’s pirates attacked did their interactions resume, the two men fighting in sync. Whatever game the clown was playing had ended by the time they found his body. 

“Come onnnn!” The head whined. “Come on, I can help.” 

 A lie. The circus master fled the second he was whole again. No matter. He wasn’t a match for Arlong to begin with. It was better to leave defeating the fishmen’s leader to Luffy. That was Zoro’s thinking. 

“Yo, Zoro! There’s a survivor over here. Prolly another hostage.” The swordsman was pulled from his thoughts by Sanji’s exclamations. 

The blonde was crouched down next to a set of shelves not far from where they had found the majority of the clown Captain. “My fair lady. We’ll get you outta here safely.” So it was a woman, probably young, though Zoro wasn’t sure that mattered much to the womanizer. 

Sanji all but dragged her from her hiding place, making a motion as though to heft her into his arms bridal style. The woman slapped his hands away, anchoring herself to the ground. “I’m not in peril or whatever. I can figure out my own way out.” 

Well, she looked like she’d seen better days. The woman was tastefully clothed in a form fitting linen dress. The shoes she was wearing didn’t match, the short boots looking industrial. She had wide hips and high breasts. Much fuller figured than Nami, though it didn’t contextualize much to compare her to the thin ginger. This new arrival’s hair was much redder in color than Nami’s, as well. 

There was something familiar about her, despite the distortion of her features. Mid back length hair was ruffled into a strange pattern, styled by sweat. Dirt and sand stuck to her face, particularly her largely swollen lips. It looked like she’d recently been crying. 

Zoro blinked at her. He knew. “You’re the girl from the circus.”

The woman paused from attempting to rub sand out of her eyes. “… whaaaaaaaaat? A circus?” She was just blatantly lying at this point. “Ah, I’ve always wanted to go to a circus. Never been though. Never been.” 

“You’re wearing the exact same outfit.” The swordsman deadpanned. 

Couldn’t argue with that. 

Sanji lingered to the right of Zoro, gaze shifting from her, to his crew mate, then to where Buggy had reunited with his body. “Got a bit of a thing for clowns, love?”

“Fuck off!” She snapped back. Way to sell herself out. 

Zoro was still processing. The two men looked at each other, then to her, then to each other, then back. “You didn’t—“

“Hey!” A familiar, maniacal voice came soaring over to interrupt them. Buggy had reappeared in the distance, wearing his hat. He had presumably circled back for it. 

The woman’s eyes widened. She backed up one step. Then two. Then spun around and took off. 

The clown gaped at her audacity. “Stop running! Get back here and answer for what you did!” He shouted, sprinting after her, leaving Zoro and Sanji alone. 

The two men looked at each other. 

“Let’s leave out the context clues when we tell Luffy about this.” Zoro decided aloud. 

Sanji nodded, looking vaguely impressed. “Fair enough. Fair. E-nough.” 

Chapter Text

xiii. 

Pere lost track of how long she’d been running for. Hell, she’d never been that athletic to begin with. Being aboard a ship long term gave you strong legs, but she wasn’t a sailor, marine, or pirate. She was basically an intern. Most of her life had been spent on land skill building. None of those skills had been running. Even starting with a significant lead, she was losing this race. 

They were on an unfamiliar island. The pirate had only gained sight of it maybe an hour before, that Pere knew. Taking a sharp right, the woman tucked into an alley in a ransacked section of the village. Doors hung loosely where they’d been ripped open and plundered. The clown cursed somewhere behind her, skidding to a stop to investigate which way she had gone. The woman took the opportunity to duck into an abandoned building. With any luck, he hadn’t heard or seen her. 

The woman breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing the tops of her tired legs. The wall she put her head against was painted a cheerful color. Someone loved this place once. She hadn’t eaten well since Buggy had been kidnapped. Her water skin was nearly empty as well. Superhumans could push themselves to the brink and back again. She felt fragile in comparison. 

Why did he think she was running? Why was he angry? Was it performative? Was he saving face? All the same to Pere. She needed to get off the island and forget all about him. Solid plan. 

3…2…1…

Had a lone hand not shot out through the dimness, grabbing her around the throat to spin her around. Her back slammed against the wall. 

Buggy kissed her, violently. He was pissed beyond reason he hadn’t gotten to enjoy the show. That she’d gotten away to begin with. And that she wasn’t swooning with joy upon seeing him. 

Much to his confusion, the woman broke the contact, craning her face out of reach. “…get off.” She choked out. 

This sudden change of heart went against his narrative. “What the FUCK is your problem?” He palmed between her legs, squeezing hard. “YOU blew me because YOU wanted to, and now, what ? It’s not fun anymore?” The clown shoved his body closer to her, pinning her against the surface in a way that had her feet dangling off the ground. 

He was strong, fit, grossly overpowered. Erratic, moody, prone to outbursts. Releasing her neck, Buggy shifted his grip to her hair, pulling tight to prevent her from moving away again. He brought his lips to hers again, less aggressively. This kiss was manipulative, interrogative.

“C’mon, baby.” Barely a whisper. “You’re obsessed with me. I know you are. Tell me you love me. Tell me you want me.” 

Chapter Text

xiv. 

Uh-uh. No way. Wasn’t happening. Tell him she loved him? As if. Pere knew he didn’t mean it that way. He meant it as ‘everyone in the world has to love me, tell me it’s true’. Seven hells, this was awkward. Obsession was fine, but she was beginning to like him. Not in a childhood crush kind of way, but in a you-could-light-me-on-fire

and-I’d-thank-you kind of way. 

Somewhere in the disconnect, she’d started taking life seriously. And she fucking hated it. 

“Listen — I’m just. It’s been super. It has. I’m just.  Over it.” Ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard? 

Poison laced his tone. “No, you’re fucking not, you little shit.” He was shaking. The clown pulls her hair again, stroking his other hand over her crotch. “Don’t pretend I don’t own you. Your body, your mind, your future — it’s mine .” 

“Find someone else.” She retorted, barely hanging on to reason. Why was she resisting this again? Her mind had gone completely blank at his touch. No. This was bad. This was wrong. This was dangerous. This would destroy her if she fed into it. 

A vicious laugh escaped him. “Real cute.” He snarled. “This was all your idea.” 

“No, it wasn’t!” Pere reasoned. “I got wrapped up in it, but you — you came after our ship! Sure, I wanted you, bu—“ fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  Fuck. Why did she say that? She was supposed to be distancing herself. 

Buggy grinned, bunching her skirts up in his hand to smooth his touch underneath them. He toyed with the lace under layer and relaxed his grip on her hair. “I know you did, baby. You’re scared, huh? You love me so much.” This gentleness was a ruse, a twist of roles. There was no sincerity in it. He needed her to play the game he was used to. He needed to feel like he was showing her mercy by allowing her any attention. 

Admitting he wanted her was unthinkable — he was the world’s greatest performer, a pirate of unshakable magnitude. Anything he could wish for was his for the taking. He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “It’s okay.” The clown cooed. 

They both could see her defenses crumbling. 

Tucking both his thumbs into her bloomers, he pulled them carefully down her legs, kneeling, allowing her to rest her hands on his shoulders as he helped her step out of them. He pulled at the strings holding her bodice in place, the dress loosening and falling off her shoulders to pool at her feet. Still on the ground, he removed her boots one at a time. 

It was a lie. This was a ruse. A game. A farce. He wasn’t a gentle man. He wasn’t controlled. He wasn’t sweet. And it wasn’t what she wanted, either. But this was tugging at her heart strings. She felt like an asshole. A harlot. A cad. 

Shrugging out of his long coat, he set his hat next to where the garment fell to the floor. Having him crouched on the ground before her was chipping away at her guard. Why was he trying so hard? What was the point? Are men this desperate for sex? Maybe this was a sick form of codependency, born from a series of blows to the ego driving him to seek authority over her. 

“Pledge your allegiance to me.”  Give yourself to me . “Be a good girl.” Her body betrayed her, his words echoing into her gut. Kisses trailed down her stomach, reaching the top of her pelvis as the pirate sat back on his heels. 

“…fuck off.” Pere turned her head away. 

There was that damned smile again. Buggy reached to the back of his head to untie his bandana, then guided one of her hands to tangle in his hair. Her pussy pulsed, feeling his hot breath ghost over her clit. “Someone hasn’t been very honest, has she? You’re dripping .” 

The clown darted his tongue out to stroke over her sex, nearly causing her knees to buckle. He wrapped an arm around the back of her legs, holding her in place. “You taste so fucking good, little bird.”

Pere’s eyes rolled back in her head — she squeezed them shut to hide it. 

“Look at me.” He growled, introducing his free hand to her inner thigh. Only when she obliged did he traced his grip inwards, finding his way to her opening. Ever so carefully, he slipped a finger inside her, prodding, curling, searching. 

She gasped as he found something sweet within her. He grinned. Her legs collapsed, and he directed her fall so that his long coat formed a makeshift blanket beneath them. 

The moment she was on the ground, Buggy lifted either of her legs to cage his ears. He guided her hand back into his vibrant hair. Despite his gentleness, there was an obvious power dynamic. The clown was fully clothed and she was entirely nude. Without shoes, she wouldn’t get far in that area riddled with rubble. 

Gray eyes were transfixed on the sight between supple thighs, the clown licking and sucking her clit as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. He rolled his tongue against her, drawing out a long moan. The taste, the smell, and her reactions were riling him up. His pants strained to contain his encased member.

A sweetness was building inside of her. She felt like she may burst. Gods, it was so addicting. Her toes curled as she searched for traction. A pressure ghosted along her abdominal and she couldn’t resist the urge to lip her hips. Buggy pressed his face hard against her, throwing an arm over her hips to hold her in place. She writhed against his tongue. 

The sensation was transforming. It felt tight, warm. Buggy twisted his fingers inside her. She fell over the edge, muscles clenching and seizing. A rush of fluid came flowing from her as she came, coating her lover’s lips. He lapped it up, swallowed it down, feasted on it. 

The Captain dug his fingers into her thigh as the aftershocks coursed through her. “Say it, say it. Say it!” He chanted, insistent. 

Pere was a whimpering mess, helpless to resist. “I want you! I want you so fucking bad! Ah, I want you, I want you, I want you!” 

Chapter Text

xv. 

This level of possessiveness was…concerning to say the least. Pere inspected her attire in the mirror. Where is he finding these stupid outfits ? 

Buggy hadn’t allowed her to collect her discarded clothing after their island romp, opting instead to carry her like a sack of potatoes wrapped up in his overcoat. Her uncertainty had caused his paranoia to grow in leaps and bounds. She was under constant supervision, and, at times, round the clock lock and key. 

The only way she could describe her current garb was ‘clown themed lingerie’. She wore a pink mockery of a marine’s jacket, the garment only falling to just under her breasts. The bottoms were a mere scrap of two toned fabric that left her behind mostly uncovered. Some was left to the imagination, as a tulle overskirt bustled out behind her. The costume was clearly circus themed, but certainly not designed for the general public to see. 

“Hurry up!” Buggy thrummed his fist against the changing room door. “Rehearsal is about to start!” 

Pere shuffled over to the door, tripping on her stiff leather heels. “Buggy…I can’t wear this.” 

An annoyed exhale could be heard through the door. The handle turned and he murmured his way into the room. “Everybody’s a critic! What’s wrong now, hmmm? It looks great!”

“My entire ass is out!” She lifted up the tulle skirt to show him. “And the front is hanging on for dear life.” 

A cunning smile spread across the clown’s face. “That is the opposite of a problem.” 

The jury was still out on whether or not the Straw Hat Crew had been inside Arlong’s Park when it had collapsed, though the circus crew was rooting for them having died under the rubble. Apparently Buggy knew someone once upon a time that wore a similar hat to Luffy and he hated the kid on principle. 

The map to the grand line was still MIA, so they were essentially just killing time until word of it turned up. Which meant planning performances, because that was their captain’s favorite pastime. “What am I doing again?” 

“Simple.” The clown assured, “you’re going to announce me. Tell everyone how great you know I am and I’ll take it from there.” 

“They don’t know?” She teased. 

Buggy scoffed. “Don’t be stupid, we just gotta train up the new guy. Fish face! Hybrid guy we picked up off the island.” 

“…Jeremy?” 

The clown waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t know his name, I don’t care to know his name.” 

Pere looked back into the mirror, the stage makeup feeling heavy and out of place. Her wide eyes were rimmed with a thick circle of kohl. Her lips were a deep purple. “Should I wash this off?” 

Wearing a businesslike air, the Captain inspected her face. “No, no, no. Though…it’s missing something. Some sort of flare.” He dirtied the thumb of his glove by pressing it to her lips and smearing the purple paint outwards. He directed her to look back in the mirror, taking her hair in his hands to pile atop her head in a messy top knot. He secured the style with a bejeweled hair clasp that he’d acquired in the last town. 

“…I still don’t like it.” She admitted. 

“Too plain?” He questioned. 

Plain ? Far from it. She felt exposed. Ridiculous. Why was he so anti-pants? Was it because his own were practically painted on? 

The clown scrubbed his palm over his chin, musing. “An easy fix.” He grinned mischievously. His hands on her shoulders prompted her to turn to face him, and he captured her mouth with his. 

The intensity grew, manic energy sparking between them. Buggy slipped his tongue between hers, grinned as it sent a jolt through her body. His hand snuck down to apply pressure to her lower back, allowing her to jerk her pelvis forward into him. 

Pere’s breath quickened, she reached for him. Just as she began to relax into the embrace, he pulled away, pointing behind her. “Now, there’s some flavor.” 

She turned back to the mirror, realizing his red grease paint was smeared across both their lips now. The purple of her own makeup blossomed throughout the red, giving the illusion of violently kiss-swollen, bruised lips. 

“…get back here and fuck me.” She demanded. 

“Ooooo, boy. That’s what I call a standing ovation.”

Chapter Text

xvi. 

The hanky panky had to take a rain check, the show was starting. Carnies crowded alongside the tightropes and high platforms, awaiting their entrance. A shy man wearing a lion's pelt stood off to the side, giving directions to a charismatic individual with visible gills. 

The clown king had insisted that he had to be at his mark well before the rehearsal started, vaguely gesturing to where he wanted her to stand. She’d never struggled to be heard over a crowd; this didn’t really phase her. But improv ? Ugh. Hi, guys. You’ve seen me all of twice but now I’m opening the show. Sorry bout that. Fucking clown. 

The tempo of drums began. The first acrobat stepped out on the ledge. The light swooped down — why was it purple? Was it supposed to set a mood? 

“STOP!” Buggy stormed out from backstage. He wasted no time jumping into verbally abusing the lighting assistant. “Are you serious?!? It’s a spotlight! It’s always white light? Come down here, I’m going to slap the shit out of you.” 

Guess they were on intermission then. 

Pere sighed, trying not to smile. He was so funny. She eyed the veins popping to the surface from his screaming. So lickable. What would provoke him enough to bend her over after this? She started internally rehearsing rude things to call him. Coward . Loser…bitch? That was a creative one. 

“Hey.” An unfamiliar voice drew her from her contemplations. The new guy, Jeremy, was leaning against the center beam, staring her down. “I like your costume. You the contortionist?” His eyes sparkled, making it clear he was making an innuendo. 

“I’m—“ the announcer? Stage hand? “— not really sure.” She admitted sheepishly. 

The half fish’s gaze drifted the length of her. Though his features were stretched a little broader than normal, and his skin was slightly blue, he was still a handsome man. And he was the new addition — she should do her best to be polite. “You’re beautiful, if you don’t mind me saying so.” He added, unexpectedly. 

“Oh? Well, thanks. Just a flattering outfit, I think.” The interaction felt like a schoolyard interaction. Awkward. A little forced. 

Jeremy shook his head. “It’s all you, sweetheart. With legs like that, you’d make anything look good.” 

Wow. Okay. That was…a little bold. Not that she was one to talk. Pere pursed her lips, slightly uncomfortable. 

“So,” he continued, offering an award winning smize, “you gonna spread them for me later?” 

Huh ? What the fuck? The second hand embarrassment was real . “I’m—“ she stuttered, “I’m kind of, like—“ that’s when she saw him, visible over Jeremy’s shoulder. 

Frozen mid-tantrum, Buggy’s features were twisted into pure hatred. He had the poor lighting guy by the collar, having been shaking him.

What happened next felt like slow motion — the clown pushing the technician aside, drawing his decorative sword from the sheath. That was the sharpest performance blade she’d ever seen— 

Blood splattered across her face, gushing forth from the throat of the man who’d been leering over her. A major artery had been severed, hence the spewing. 

Pere tracked the hybrid’s dying body as he collapsed before her. She knew enough medicine to know he couldn’t be saved. And she knew enough about life to know trying would only condemn her to a world of hurt. 

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, a seasoned bounty hunter had told her: “morality on sea isn’t the same as on land. Kill or be killed, the sea consumes all”. This was no story of a monster in love with a soft hearted damsel in distress. 

Pirates killed. Hunters killed.

And everybody died, eventually. 

//

//

//

//

Pere at the Circus

Chapter Text

xvii.

They were back on the ship, both stripped down to their under things. For Pere, that meant the tiny bottoms and the wrap around her chest. Bustiers were more her speed, but her lover had a tendency to rip them apart and this was easier. Buggy was dressed more conservatively in linen breeches. 

A basin of sea water sat between them, tinged pink. The woman leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling. Her lover kneeled before her, reaching over the basin meticulously wiping a wet cloth over her skin. He inspected every part of her body, cleaning it of blood and gore, muttering all the while. “…fish bait…couldn’t learn his place…piece of shit.” The dialogue went on. 

Finally, the clown was satisfied with his work, dropping the sopping rag into the basin, pushing the whole measure to the side. He shook his hands, dispelling the excess water from them. His calm now was deceptive. He’d burned the tent to the ground, the fish hybrid’s body still inside. Smoke had still been rolling off the abandoned performance hall when the ship had left port. The random destruction bothered her, but she had more important matters to worry about. 

Honestly, she wasn’t sure this wouldn’t come back on her. The entire time she sat there, she was brainstorming how to make it work in her favor. The clown was still cleaning, stowing various components away. 

“I want you.” She tested. 

The ghost of a smile. “I bet you do, pumpkin.” There was no pause to his actions. 

“Please.” She tried again. 

“Oh?” The pirate closed a cupboard a little too harshly. Fuck. He was definitely pissed at her. “That’s too bad. Naughty girls don’t get rewards.” 

The fuck did she do? “That’s not fair.” 

“You know what’s not fair?” His volume rose abruptly. “You’re a fucking tease .” 

“Excuse me?!?” She fired back. 

Buggy turned to look at her. “Were you going to spread your legs for him? Since he asked you so nice? Hmm?” He spat bitterly. “You were supposed to be looking at me ! Not some half breed lackey! Did you like what you saw? Did you want to fuck him?” 

“I was being polite.” Pere protested, flabbergasted but not all that surprised. 

The clown had washed the majority of his grease paint off, and cleaned his hair as well. Blue locks hung damply to his shoulders. The lack of color on his face made his features less sinister, but his expressions more severe. He smelled clean, fresh, intimate. He scoffed, ignoring what she said. 

“I only want you!” Her voice was hoarse, insistent. 

The clown took a moment to consider it. “Is that right?” He asked darkly, sitting down on his bunk.  “ Then beg.” 

“What?” 

“Beg.” He repeated. 

It felt like they were back to square one — her longing, unrequited for him. 

“…please?” The plea was half hearted at best. 

“Er, wrong. You’ll have to do better than that.” 

So, humiliate herself, got it. She had shame, she did. Horniness just had a way of overriding it. 

The woman got on her hands and knees, crawling across the wood planks to him. “Please, oh great Captain Buggy, won’t you fuck me?” 

He raised a brow, challenging her to go on. 

Pere sat up on the ground before him. Making strong eye contact, she began to unwrap the material around her chest. She continued until her breasts were free, making a point to bounce them as she released them. Trailing her hands across her own collarbone, she tried again. “It’s been soooo long. Won’t you make my pussy sore for me, Captain? Won’t you give me just a little taste?” 

Crystal blue eyes observed her, intrigued. “What would you have me do? Where do you need me?” 

The redhead palmed her own breast, circling her nipple to strain in his direction. “I want you to touch me, here.” She smoothed her hand to her other breast. “Here.” Her hand trailed downwards, slipping between her legs. “And here.” 

Buggy swallowed heavily, not missing a single detail. “Show me.” He gritted. 

Pere stripped the undergarments off, casting them aside. She spread her legs, angling her sex up to his gaze. “You make me so wet, please, please, cover me with cum, Buggy.” Tracing her fingers first around her clit, she proceeded to delve two fingers into her opening. She pumped in and out, the sound of wetness slapping against her hand. 

“Mmm.” The pirate mused, “what a pretty little cunt you have. So tight and sweet for me. Tell me, baby, have you earned my cock?” 

Trick question. “Have mercy on me, oh mighty pirate lord. I crave you. All of me is yours. I need you. Oh, Gods!” Her fingers brushed something deep inside her, prompting her to cry out. 

“I’ll allow it.” His angular face lit up. “So take it.”

Caught off-guard, Pere repeated the last of the statement. “…take it…? You don’t mean?” Her eyes locked in on his groin; her mouth began to water. 

“I do.” Buggy confirmed, pushing down his breeches to expose his member. “Show me how much you want it.” 

Fingers shaking, body primed in anticipation, she reached forward to grasp his most intimate part. His cock disconnected from his body, warm and lively in her hand. There was only one thing he could want. 

She lowered the phallus to her drenched folds. Setting a punishing pace, she began to fuck herself with his disembodied penis. Buggy sat perfectly still, breath quickening in a minute way that told her he could feel every push and glide of his hard cock filling her pussy. She continued in this pattern until she came, squirting her conclusion over his cock and onto the floor. 

Staring down at his genitalia, still panting, coming down from the intensity of her orgasm. Just as she removed the member from her, Buggy blew his load, hard, coating her stomach and the exterior of her pussy with his cum. Shellshocked, she watched as the appendage slipped through her fingers, recalled by it’s owner. 

Fascination filled her as she observed the thick, white fluid upon her skin. An idea struck her. This was a performance, after all. Dipping her fingers into the substance, she slicked them down to her clit, beginning to masturbate using his cum as lube. 

That was the clown’s undoing, and he descended on her. 

Chapter Text

xviiii.

The next time Big Top docked, it was to gather supplies and trade Berry for goods. There had been a new outfit ready for her when she’d awoken that morning, this one was slightly more subdued. The port was bright and sunny, and her attire was accented with a wide brimmed sun hat. 

Pere was seated atop a barrel of wine, clad in a calf length dress. The fabric was flowy and casual, the skirt containing several layers in a way that comfortably disguised her figure. She’d been gifted (that was a strong phrase, made to wear was more correct) knitted hemp sandals this time. 

It was hard to put into words how grateful the woman was for the outfit choices, because she was already properly mortified by the scenario she was in. 

After the incident at the last town (RIP Jeremy), Buggy’s possessiveness had spun out of control, a completely separate emotion from jealousy. The problem was he was now acting jealous, though to a much lesser degree, on top of the need to possess her. This manifested as him not only asserting dominance over her, but going to great lengths to remind her to keep her eyes on him. 

Pere bit her lip, pressing her thighs more closely together. Spite was a great motivator, because as the captain spoke and laughed with the merchants on shore, his behavior was more or less normal. The bar was kind of low for him on ‘normal’ to begin with. 

Meanwhile, the redhead had already changed her underwear twice that day as a result of soaking through them. Why? Because Buggy’s cock was still inside her. The clown reclaimed his phallus at random points, likely to give it a rest or to do his business, but each time was only a short break before he returned it to her. 

It was just a fullness the majority of the time. Then a dock worker would pass a little too close to her, or crew member would ask her a question, and Buggy’s member would harden inside her and fuck her until her own cum was streaming down her thighs. Her only choice was to bite her lip, or cheek, and squeeze her pelvic muscles in an attempt to lessen the motion when it was becoming too much. 

To her complete mortification, she had caved to it halfway through the day. She’d snuck a glimpse at the Captain as he’d covertly tortured her inner walls, and he’d winked, and smiled at her. That had been enough to make her absolutely feral, and she’d rushed inside to the cabin, ripping off her panties to allow the cock more freedom. The floating appendage had awarded her efforts with such passion that the entire bunk rocked under the force of her pussy being pummeled. 

An often unhappy side effect of eating a devil fruit was sterility, but Buggy seemed to enjoy it, as he filled her with cum again and again and again and again. Whatever he was hoping to achieve, in his opinion he was succeeding. She knew this because when she finally got the strength back in her legs and returned to the docks, the Captain had brushed by her, whispering, “that’s a good girl,”. 

That shit went to her head. She wanted to drop to the ground at fit and beg him to hold her, to kiss her, to taste her. The next time he took his member back, he took a moment to watch his cum drip out of her in satisfaction.

At some point, Pere took on the job of categorizing and recording the cargo on a piece of parchment, one of the tasks she was in charge of back on the Sugar Saint. The lead acrobat looked over it curiously, impressed by the neatness of the cataloging. That was Pere’s only real skill — she was a very, very quick learner. 

The next leg of their journey was due North to meet up with another pirate captain named Alvida. Pere didn’t like this for two reasons — one, she’d gotten this information from a deck/stage hand and not Buggy himself, and two — she’d seen Alvida’s wanted poster, and the pirate was stunning, in her opinion. 

It’s best not to forget that in Pere’s mind, anyone would die to feel Buggy’s touch, even though that wasn’t the reality they were living in. Most women found the whole murder/body horror/blue hair/clown makeup thing kind of off putting. 

And that was one reality Pere would never, ever, ever accept as fact. 

Chapter Text

xix.

On a boat, off the coast of somewhere…

“So, according to your friend, Zoro, Blippo still doesn’t like me?” Luffy questioned, perched on the character at the front of the ship. 

“He wants to kill you, specifically.” The swordsman deadpanned. 

“Ah, man! Why would he want to do that?” The Straw Hat Captain pouted. 

Sanji and Zoro exchanged a look. The blonde spoke next. “Well…Luffy, you may have run off with the man’s map and all that.”

This still didn’t make sense to the chipper captain. “Yeah, but we did find his body for him though.” 

Zoro shrugged. “That’s just what they said in the communication. That Buggy and Alvida are making a pact to take you down.” 

“That’s such a bummer!” Luffy exclaimed, though he didn’t seem too down about it. 

The waiter swallowed awkwardly. “And, another thing, kiddo, uh, just, just between us lads, y’a know?” This wording was very, very careful. “That clown may have a lady friend sneaking around in the shadows, doing his dirty work. So we gotsta keep an eye out for her too.” 

“Awww!” The rubber boy sighed happily. “Bitzo has a girlfriend! That’s so nice! Good for him.”

On some other boat, off of the coast of some other place…

“Captain Alvida! Captain Alvida!” Racing up the stairs to the top deck, a newly appointed lackey skidded to a stop in front of the voluptuous pirate. 

The Latina barely spared him a glance. “What is it? Spit it out already.” 

The poor boy had no chance to catch his breath. “We’re…ah…we’re approaching the no extradition zone.” 

“Hmm.” Alvida mused. “Excellent. It’s been years since I spoke with that clown. I’m curious as to what his pitch is.” 

No Man’s Land …

“It’s just…sense!” The clown captain was applauding his own plan.  “Bullies like Arlong don’t deserve the platform they have! Cmon, what’s his special skill? Being a fish. And you know what they say, there’s plenty of fish in the sea!” 

Alvida nodded, humoring him. “And what of straw hat? How does he fit into all this?”

“That little shit just so happens to have my map. We join forces, knock him dead, and waa-bam, we’re the fiercest couple of captains in all the seas.” Buggy went to throw an arm around Alvida’s shoulder in a ‘we’re best buddies motion’ and she promptly tried to stab him. “We just make a pip stop to the grand line, snatch up one piece, buy some property…yadda yadda.” The clown popped his arm out of the blades path, reassembling it several strides away. “It’s foul proof!” 

Their conversation was semi-private, taking place in a bar across from a large wood board full of WANTED posters. Both Buggy and Alvida’s mugshots were there. Was there? Buggy’s seemed to have gone missing sometime since they’d landed at the base. The clown crew tended to snag them whenever they saw them. Their Captain collected them. 

The female pirate set her drink down, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “I have absolutely no faith in you, clown, but you’ve all I got at the moment.” 

Buggy gasped. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me!” He mockingly pretended to wipe away tears, then held his hand out to seal the pact with the Latina. 

Chapter Text

And thus, the Buggy and Alvida alliance was born. They became a combined crew of freaks and pushovers, as everyone else had decented after seeing their captains get their asses handed to them by a stretchy child. 

Honestly, it was for the best, because they were often sailing aboard one large ship, and it was cramped enough as it was. The bulk of the crew slept in hammocks throughout the ship, while the two Captains had dedicated cabins. This was less a matter of respect and more a precaution — Alvida snored like Thunder and her crew didn’t want to sleep anywhere near her. 

In a gesture of good faith, they selected a room of similar size, but opposite orientation on the ship for the male pirate captain to sleep. This  shiny new living space had a large floating bed in the middle, seating and a table in one corner, and a desk with writing utensils and storage against the other. There was a large window that did actually open, being on top deck. Lucky, since pirates worked odd hours, there were interior shutters that easily blocked out all light. The paranoid clown kept them closed around the clock, multiple sensitive documents out on the desktop. 

There was a notable social divide that split the crew into three categories — seasoned Alvida pirates, seasoned Buggy pirates, and new hires who had no strong preference between the two. They socialized well enough, all in all, exchanging stories and advice on how to best cater to each captain’s unique needs.  

Alvida had a long history of collecting people she liked the look of, while Buggy was known for recruiting anyone with skills he liked. The primary difference is once someone entered into service to Alvida, the expectation was they’d be trapped with her until they died. Buggy was more of a showman, drawing up continuity contracts for his favorite performers and negotiating legal terms for any severances. This was no guarantee that you could waltz away from the freak show and keep your head, of course — trade secrets and all that. 

The two crews were given clear agendas, and held regular meetings. In fact, the first of those all crew meetings was scheduled for dusk that day. 

Our red headed heroine (jk, she was terrible at rescue missions) sighed, glancing out at the water. After the clown had murdered a new recruit in cold blood simply for speaking to her too boldly, the members of Buggy’s had come to accept that Pere was their Captain's new primary bedfellow. This acceptance made her living situation more comfortable, and she was getting along with the majority of the performers. 

As for Alvida’s crew…Pere knew she looked soft and sweet. That was how she’d always been shaped. Plus, not much she could do about it, shy of reminding everyone she encountered that she wasn’t, per se, anti -murder. Oh, y’all killing people? Cool cool cool cool cool. Super chill . 

The wind brushed her hair back from her face, the large ship idling in the middle of the sea. They were well concealed in the thick fog that had rolled in that morning. It was cooler on the water today, the redhead clad in a gray wool dress to reflect that. 

The latest lion man strolled up to stand beside her — the turn over rate for that particular position was out of control. “Alright out here?” Cotlon asked her. “Didn’t see you at supper.” 

He was a kind man, full of professionalism. His lion’s pelt was missing, at the moment, traded out for a khaki coat and trousers. She smiled at him. “I ate earlier.” 

“In…private?” Cotlon asked cautiously, code for inquiring if she’d dined with the clown captain that morning. Buggy tested all his food for poison prior to consuming it, and he’s shown her how. 

Pere nodded absentmindedly. 

“And…how’s that going?” That tone was warm, worried. 

The woman raised a brow at her new acquaintance. “Me and Buggy? Oh, you know…” what did she even say to that? That she hung on the clowns every word? That she resented the mission for taking up all her lover's time? That every moment was irrelevant if it wasn’t spent on her knees before the Captain? 

She shook her head against her own inner monologue. If she got herself worked up, she’d have to spend the meeting tense and wanting, minimum. The beginning days of whatever odd dynamic they had going had been so chaotic that she’d been allowed to be truly greedy with his time. Him having a job, a dream, a goal, and all this responsibility made her feel like a needy little child. 

What was she doing with her life? Waiting for a man to pay attention to her? She had been helping with all the paperwork. It wasn’t a given that everyone on the sea knew how to read, and she knew enough about all the common tongues to get by. 

Pere glanced back at the circus performer across from her. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything, my lady.”  A little awkward, a little overly formal, but whatever. 

The woman turned her face back to the water. “Do you think change is inevitable?” 

Smiling in understanding, the man shrugged. “No. But as the stories go, limbo drives men mad.” 

There was a commotion from below deck, signaling that the crews were beginning to gather for the meeting. The lion man patted the railing next to her comfortingly, “think on it. I’m always here to talk.” 

If only she could live in this moment forever. 

Chapter Text

“…and your appointed scribe?” Alvida was asking, her own man already set up on the side of the meeting era with a little desk and ink pot. 

“Uh…” Buggy scrunched his nose. Clearly, he’d never considered transcribing meetings. His crystal gaze cast around the room, cataloging who might know how to write. 

Time to help him save face. Pere met his eyes, pointing with her own gaze to the scroll and pre-loaded pens she had tucked away. 

“Yeah, yeah. Course. She’s right here.” The clown affirmed, signaling her to set up next to Alvida’s scribe. 

The female captain twisted her lips, curious. “Oh? Is that what she is?” It did clarify something for her, though she hadn’t asked, because she didn’t care. 

The clown snuck Pere a wink, rolling directly into the meeting proceedings. Recording the key points proved difficult, as the newly appointed scribe usually made a point to minimize looking at the clown in public. Her self control was fragile on a good day, and she’d been earnestly missing their prior dynamic this last little while. 

Keeping careful record of all important mentions, the redhead allowed herself to indulge in the view. To any outside observer, she was aptly attentive to the matter at hand. But inwardly…her gaze caressed the outside of her lover’s jaw, tracking down his neck and around to his sculpted chest. Had they been in private, she might have whined. Now indoors, the Captain had shed his long coat, exposing the muscles of his arms to her greedy eyes. 

Pere had the wild inclination to shield him from view, to keep any prying gazes away from him. There were plenty of women between the two crews, but she couldn’t help focusing on the clown’s interactions with Alvida in particular. 

The female pirate had a grace about her, a confidence, and an ease. Occasionally, she would nod or roll her eyes at some snide remark that her fellow captain batted her way. Alvida was seated in a large cushioned chair, leaning forward to rest her hand on her chin as she listened, and reclining back in the seat as she spoke. As the Latina started speaking of potential routes and delays, Pere let her thoughts drift back to Buggy. 

The object of her attention shifted boredly, crossing his arm across his chest in a way that bulged out the curves of his biceps. With the recent lull, his face paint was in rare form. The red on his mouth only just pushed the limits of his natural lips, and the blue around his eyes came to sharp points. His colorful tricorn accentuated the strength of his jawline, the intensity of his brow line. 

In moments like this, it was hard to remember he was a true wild card. She wanted to romanticize him as a composed gentleman for the sake of imagination. Foolish, to forget he could swing wildly into a brand new emotion at the slightest moment. She wanted his calms and storms alike, was that so wrong?

Half the time, musings like this led to her feeling bad about herself. They say skin on skin helps babies bond…did you hold me wrong ? Most hunters and pirates were orphans, but Pere had grown up with both a mother and father who she’d known. 

They hadn’t liked her very much. 

Her parents wanted someone exemplary. With no siblings to speak of, the weight of their expectations had landed solely on her shoulders. She’d undergone intensive etiquette training as a young girl, but nothing had instilled the level of charisma needed to make a girl from the common class marriable. Despite that, her parents had found her a decent match from a normal family. 

They’d been furious when their daughter had, by their view, intentionally sabotaged their desired Union. The truth of the story was that she had gotten too comfortable around her suitor and started speaking her mind — the young lad Anthony had called her brash, depraved, and outlandish. 

She’d held her tongue for the longest time after that. 

Only after she started serving the collective of bounty hunters did she stop monitoring every word she spoke. It had gotten pretty out of control, pretty fast. Revenge ramblings, if she had to give it a name. 

Several faces swam about her memory, and Pere forced herself to be present. 

Buggy had one leg propped up on a nearby barrel, rocking his weight from one foot to the other. He was always so restless. One of his advisors was chiming in on the agenda for the next week. 

The clown’s face was so expressive. Every shred of distaste, amusement, and contemplation was plain as day. Pere recalled all the various smiles and smirks he’d gift her in the heat of intercourse.  

Catching herself in her fantasies, she ducked her head towards the parchment to hide her blown out pupils and reddened cheeks. This was a matter of business — she didn’t need to be imagining him throwing her down on the center table and curling his fingers inside of her as he made her scream for all to hear. 

A-hem. 

Pere felt the intensity of someone’s gaze on her, and when she glanced back up it was to lock eyes with the clown captain. Good god, he could see right through her. Buggy no longer looked bored in the slightest, a grin of satisfaction painting his features. He covertly adjusted his pants, making sure she was looking at him as he did so. His eyes devoured her, pulling at the edges of her dress, having memorized the contours of her body that were hidden within.  

Please please please . 

Chapter Text

Before the door had fully shut behind them, Buggy was upon her, pinning her against the wooden surface. “Missing me, sweetheart?” He teased. 

Her hands grasped at his skin desperately, not being able to gain enough contact fast enough.  In a move of unusual boldness, she started pulling at his belt, undoing the buckle. Tossing the accessory aside, she moved onto striping him of his vest, then his sash, pants, etc.

The pirate allowed it, amused by her gusto. When she strained up on tip in an attempt to press her lips to his, he propped an arm under her backside, bringing her up to eye level. Pere braced her legs against the indents formed by muscle meeting his hip bones, enjoying the shape of his body separated from hers by only the wool layer of her dress. 

“Mmm,” she sighed, relieved. Her attentions were unrelenting, pushing her full body weight onto his torso. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she savored the hotness of his mouth on hers. 

The clown walked backwards, searching for the edge of the bed with an extended leg. Reaching his goal, he allowed them both to tumble back, guiding her to stay atop him.  

Pere pushed herself as close as she could to him, breasts heaving with the pace of her breath.  Vaguely, she expected him to take control, but he didn’t. Propping his hands up behind his head, Buggy settled in to enjoy the sight of her desperation. 

Jealousy burned in her veins. She wanted his everything. Her wanting dominated her every moment — she wanted to force him to feel the same. To keep his every thought as a potion, mixing her blood and sweat into the concoction until she was the only thing on his mind. 

Frustrated, she wasted no time in unlacing his breeches. She paid no mind to her own attire, hiking up her dress and ripping down her stockings, sinking down on his freshly hardened member as quickly as she could manage. 

By the seas, it felt so good . 

To his credit, her flashy lover gave her the grace of all of this before toying with her. 

The woman was crying out, moaning, writhing as she willed her body to adjust to his presence. Her lover finally made a move, grasping her hips to impale her more deeply upon his cock. “How does it feel, darlin?” An expression of immense satisfaction dominated his features. “Look how needy you are for me.” 

Knees on the bed, straddling him, she attempted to start up a pace, only to find her hips held in place. “No…!” She nearly sobbed, “give it to me, please! Please, let me move!” 

Buggy grinned maliciously. “Hmmm… so sweet.  But you’ll have to do better than that to convince me.” The grip on her hips grew bruising, creating a potent mix of sensations. Pain, pleasure, tension. They all combined to drive her absolutely wild. 

“Please, Buggy,” she begged, “let me take your cock. Stretch my pussy out.” 

The telltale shifting of his limbs prior to breaking into parts alerted her that the dynamic was about to change. He’d been planning something. She should know better than to believe he wasn’t always two steps ahead. 

His hands, no longer connected to his wrists, came up with force to her bodice, shredding her dress from her body. Her stockings didn’t last long beyond that. Using his elbows to sit up, he flipped them so she had her back flat against the sheets, pelvis resting in his lap. His hands were still floating around the cabin. There was a rattling and when the appendages returned, they were affixing her hands to the bed frame with marine level handcuffs. 

Buggy, still bereft of all clothing, was visibly and painfully aroused. His member was brushing against his stomach, glistening with precum. Reattaching his appendages, he smoothed a hand down her stomach.  A series of candles had been lit, illuminating the cabin with warm light. The clown spread her labia with his thumb and forefinger , admiring her center. The candlelight flickered across his face, revealing the wicked and feral look in his eyes. He was gleeful, excited. 

Alarmingly, his other hand had returned to him clutching a medium sized wooden box. 

Chapter Text

The clown Captain gave the woman no time to wonder about the box, both of his hands now working her. The container was left resting off to the side. 

Buggy crossed his legs, shuffling her feet under his thighs and putting his body weight on them. This position had her legs struggling to drape over the inside of his knees, effectively immobilizing her.

These detailed preparations were proof the clown had been missing her just as much as she had him. 

It also proved, with his history of poor emotional control, that she had a long night of groveling ahead of her. 

The Captain had a deep and unyielding need for affirmation, with no intention of simply asking for it. Instead, he demanded it, pulling words and sounds from her body with precise care. Care that left her sore, and at times — bruised, all over. 

His inspection of her privates had Pere’s eyes rolling back in her head. He was cateloging her reactions, stowing the knowledge away. Circling his thumb around her clit, he enticed her back to arch off the bed, straining her wrists against the cuffs. 

Every moan and squirm was his to keep — the louder and more depraved the better. 

“Are you mine?” He asked coldly, leaving no room for error. There would be consequences for wrong answers. Fuck; there’d be consequences for right answers. 

Pere was losing her mind, breasts heaving as she panted. “Yes!”, she cried, “I’m yours! I’m yours!” 

Her reward was his fingers sinking deep within her, twisting. His thumb played with her inner folds, teasing. “Are you? Where are you mine, sweetheart? Spell it out for me.” 

Something inside her was producing that tell tale sweetness, something she knew he’d memorized during one of their previous romps. 

“Are you mine…here?” The fingers pumped into her, spreading her wet along her labia. It was delicious, wonderful, and nowhere near enough. 

“Y-yes!” The woman choked out desperately, “it’s yours, it’s all yours!” 

That didn’t satisfy him. “Oh? And why’s that, darlin?” 

She hesitated. Immediately, she was punished for it. The Captain drilled his fingers impossibly deeper inside her, using the pressure to make her pussy clench desperately. 

“Tell me.” Buggy insisted dangerously. 

Terrified, excited, and overstimulated, the redhead began to babble. “Beca—because I need you! I want you! I-…I love you; I worship you!” 

The clown let out an audible groan, cock jumping against his stomach. “Mmm — that’s right, little bird, sing for me.” Crystal eyes tracked lower, tracing the exterior of her other whole. Pere jolted, startled. “And here ? Are you mine here?”

“W-wa-wait— ahh!” Her feeble protest earned her a sharp smack across her clit. It stung so sweetly. 

“Behave,” he warned, “I won’t ask you again.” 

“It’s yours,” tears of pleasure, pain, and fear leaked down her cheeks. That portion of her body was entirely unexplored. She knew some women who went absolutely feral for being taken from the back, but she’d never understood it. 

His giddiness intensified. “Have you ever had a man take you here, baby?”

Pere shook her head, locking eyes with him. What in the seven hells did he have planned? He was lit up like a live wire, ecstatic, animalistic. Swiping his fingers upwards, he collected her slick, inserting the fingers into his mouth with a guttural moan. The clown inhaled deeply, high on her fluids and his own idea. 

Discovering unexplored territory had flipped a switch in him — his eyes dilated. His movements were deeply exaggerated, savoring the events as they passed. 

“Why…” the woman was struggling to regain her breath, “why the cuffs?” She asked apprehensively. 

Buggy pressed his palm to her cheek. His chuckle was deep and manic. “We can’t have you running away, no when we’re about to have so. Much. Fun.” 

Chapter Text

Her lover tasted like gunpowder and salt water. Overly indulgent kisses peppered her lips, drinking her in. Shit; she had such bad emotional issues. This was the only time she felt like a person. Touching him was like running to catch a ship as it leaves the shore. Firing a gun, waiting for it to make an impact. The seconds before your fist dealt the decisive blow. 

Despite her apprehension, she found herself giggling against his lips. She poked her tongue out to tease at his tongue, drawing a matching laugh from him. 

The clown sat up — ruffled, paint smeared. He drew his thumb across her lips, coloring her cheek with the red transfer. “See? We’re having such a good time.” Whether that was to convince her or himself, Pere wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. She was compelled. “Now for the main event.”

He brought forth the mysterious box, flipping the latch around. It contained…well, she actually wasn’t quite sure what that was. There was a long, thin bottle containing some manner of oil. Then, resting against royal velvet there were two cylinders with ends polished into a rounded shape. They were about six inches in length, ridges along the sides —-

Oh . “Why are there two of them—?” The woman began to ask, only to be loudly shushed by her lover. 

“No more questions, here, suck on this.” He said dismissively, reaching down to grab something. 

Did he…did he just toss his dick at her?

Resisting the urge to start snickering, the woman snuck her tongue out to playfully lick the tip of the hovering member. 

“Ahhhhgh.” Buggy moaned absentmindedly, hips jerking slightly at the phantom sensation. 

Idiot . 

Chapter Text

Oral did effectively ease her anxiety about whatever was coming to her, but the action was undeniably silly. The member was undeniably imposing when it was destroying her insides — not so much when waggling in the air above her face. 

She kissed the tip, swirled her tongue around the mushroom head. All the while, she was struggling not to laugh. 

The clown was clearly forcing down a smile as well, struggling to focus on getting the lid off the jar of oil. “Jackpot!” He exclaimed, tossing the cap into some far removed corner of the room. What was he planning that required the entire bottle of oil?? 

Her hips were still locked in place against his, leaving her at the mercy of his every whim. The clown dipped his fingers back between her folds on more, immediately sucking the liquid from his digits with a self satisfied groan. “Fuck.” He murmured. 

Spreading her labia, the pirate inspected her cunt earnestly, his favorite toy at the moment. Smoothly flipping the bottle over in his hand, he poured a liberal amount of liquid directly into her. It warmed her, tingling, and it relaxed her muscles on contact. “Mmmm.” She wiggled her hips, trying to gain more skin on skin contact. 

This earned her another punishing slap across her labia. “Patience is a virtue.” Her lover cooed. 

In the quiet of the night, the privacy of the cabin, she could pretend they had met under normal circumstances. Sometimes she’d pretend he was her dedicated, albeit kinky, husband who sailed the seas in search of jewels for her. Other times, she imagined their situation having taken a darker turn, one where she was kept chained around the clock. 

Honestly, she wasn’t sure which she liked better. 

Producing the first of the two phallus shaped toys, Buggy rubbed it teasingly along her clit. “You’re a mess,” he mocked, “let’s make it worse!” 

“Excuse me—“ the clown’s member, which had been prodding lightly at her mouth, took the opportunity to shove itself half way down her throat when she opened her lips to speak. The appendage drew out, then slammed back in. It was erotic, otherworldly, and sent a fresh stream of wet from her sex to mix with the oil lubing her passage. 

In perfect unison, the pirate slipped the toy inside her pussy, setting a pitiless rhythm. This was the final straw, an intense orgasm racking her frame. The pace never slowed, only ceasing when the clown drew the toy out to inspect it. It was dripping with oil and slick, the intended goal. 

Never ceasing fucking her mouth, he rubbed the object against her lower opening, massaging the puckered flesh, ensuring oil transferred liberally. The effects went to work immediately, softening the ring of muscles that guarded the passage. 

With a bit of extra pressure, the toy found itself into her. There was the slightest burning, though the aphrodisiac made it mostly pleasant. She felt full. Stuffed . Soon, her ass was being fucked in time with her face. His hand broke pieces with his wrist, maintaining the motion as he turned his attention to the remaining toy.

With her cunt already well saturated, the clown gave the second shaft a light layering of the oil before digging the toy into her waiting sex. Then he left his second hand to work in the same style as the first. 

By the seas, she was being eaten alive. All human niceties had been stripped from her, leaving a gasping beast behind. The combination of sensations overpowered her, drawing orgasm after orgasm from her. 

Buggy was enraptured by her, soaking in the sight of her, the smell, the sounds. The motion of his dick against her tongue began to falter, his inhuman stamina only holding him back from the ledge for so long. His hips thrusted frantically, matching the stuttering of his disembodied limb. 

When the clown was nearly at his peak, he withdrew his twitching member and splattered her face and chest with cum. His parts came racing back to him discarding the toys in the process. They were lost to the tangle of bedding beneath them. 

Buggy collapsed forward onto her, landing slightly off center to rest his head against one of her trapped arms. Sated, sleep was creeping up on them both. Haphazardly, blindly, the clown produced a key to free her hands.

He massaged his cum into her breasts as her dozed off, repeating, “mine, mine, mine” wildly under his breathe. 

Chapter Text

Merging crews was a bumpy road. Everyone played nice, at first. But the dynamics were too different in the way the crews ran. Buggy easily became the de facto point of contact for everyone aboard the ship — oddly, he was the more reasonable of the two. 

Alvida fundamentally didn’t value human life. Not in like, a rude way, but just in general. She spared with her crew on the regular and caused multiple life threatening injuries that she’d paid no mind to. 

The plans and agendas Buggy made didn’t often feature guaranteed lackey death, and that was a welcome relief to Alvida’s crew. The only downside to the clown’s instructions was they were often given amidst an episode or gimmick, and could be very hard to decipher. 

Most activities aboard the combo ship felt like being in school again. They often sat beside and worked with people whose names they didn’t know, and stories they didn’t have time to learn. 

Even with as large of staff as they had on the vessel, there was always something to do. Not that Buggy liked her to do much of anything. Perhaps it was a shred of remorse for the grueling nights he had her endure, but Pere was given low impact, highly mental tasks. Her reading was getting better, and she remembered more math every day. This didn’t seem like much to boast about, but those traits were hard to come by at sea. 

The morning light stressed the edges of the shutters in the east most cabin, allowing the eyes to see the details of the room without casting any real sunlight upon them. Pere often awoke before Buggy, as the man would mull over schemes and train with his crew mates late into the night. 

It was in those rare moments that she was able to see his authentic face, void of the heavy makeup he typically wore. He was so intensely handsome, it was like staring into the sun. 

She scooted up on the bunk, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. 

The man stirred slightly. “Ughhhh. It’s too early. Don’t provoke me.” He threw an arm over her, pulling her closer. 

At some point, they both fell back asleep. 

The next time Pere would awake, it wouldn’t be nearly so pleasant. 

There was a mountain pass near where she grew up, where the grass was taller than her. It was so vivid in her memory that it appeared crystal clear before her now. The sound of water, the freshness of the air, and the animals running through the trees were vivid before her. 

“Pereira.” A male voice floated down from the trees. 

“Buggy?” Where were they? This place was miles from the sea. 

The voice didn’t sound like his, but her rapid codependency had her clinging to the thought of him. She wanted to be assigned a place, not to fight for one. Buggy didn’t use her name, either. It was either too casual or too intimate for him, and she’d never asked. 

“Buggy!” She called again. “I don’t want to be here!” 

“Why are you shouting, Pereira? I’m right here.” Someone took her hand, and she whirled around to face them. She jerked away as it burned. It was Anthony. But he was older. Different. He was looking at her with a softness she’d never known. 

Pere backed away. “What’s happening?” 

“You know, it’s normal for someone in your position to imagine adventures, but you need to stop coming out to the mountains alone.” Sensible, boring Anthony. 

“In my position?” She scoffed.

The carefully buttoned man tilted his head at her. “You’re a married woman. I know you feel cooped up at times.” 

The woman scoffed. “Any bunk is way stuffier than a house. And I’m not married. It’s not like that.” 

Anthony raised a brow at her. “I was at the ceremony, Pereira. Our ceremony. I think I’d know.” 

“You broke it off…and called me a whore when I told you I want to become a bounty hunter.” Devastation was settling into her chest. She was prone to fits of fancy, but no one’s imagination was that vivid. 

“A bounty hunter? For criminals?” He seemed genuinely surprised. 

Panic was creeping up her throat. “For pirates.” 

“Pirates? Pirates disappeared hundreds of years ago. They’re just old stories in your books.” The mild mannered man reached for her arm. 

Pere slapped him away. “This isn’t a game. I’m not with you! I’m with…”

“With who, Pereira? Who would have you?” The coldness in his voice wasn’t like that of a pirates — it wasn’t a playful ruse, it was genuine dislike for her. 

The woman steeled against his words. “I’m a member of Captain Buggy’s crew. I’m a Buggy pirate.” 

“Oh? Tell me about this Captain? Does he wear a triangle hat and speak in riddles? Maybe he smokes a cigar and knows all the sharks by name?” The genuine belittlement was cutting into her, wearing her down. 

“He’s a clown and he’s gorgeous and he can win most any fight. He ate a devil fruit and he can’t be cut and…” that did sound ridiculous, actually. But she’d lived it, right? She’d been there. 

Anthony frowned at her, turning away. “Magic fruit? A clown? Like in the circus? Is this another of your sick fantasies? We’ve talked about this. Women your age have three kids and a career. I know the doctors said the trauma may have made you barren, but you could at least let me touch you.” 

“The trauma?” The confusion wasn’t denial this time. 

“The fire...” the journeyman looked back at her. To her horror, the sick smell of burning flesh rolled off of him. His eyes crumbled to ash before her, fire spreading down his arms. He reached for her, and clenched her into an embrace, the fire engulfing her.

The flames seared up her arms, scalding her. The pain was unbearable; the heat all consuming. The woman broke free from Anthony, crying out in pain. She ran for the stream, throwing herself into the water. The fire was enduring, peeling her flesh from her bones. 

Chapter Text

The redhead jolted awake, still screaming in agony. The man who had been resting at her side jumped up, prepared to raise hell against some imagined intruder. He reached for her, meaning to shield her behind him, but her eyes were distant and unfocused. She wasn’t seeing him. Buggy scanned the room. Nothing seemed out of place. Maybe some kind of curse or poison?

“Don’t touch me!” She cried desperately, snatching a knife off the belt hanging on the wall, brandishing it at him. 

The clown raised a brow, amused. “You’re about two decades too late with that one, darling.” 

“I’m not going with you, Anthony!” She slashed the blade through the air, too far away to reach even if it would have affected him. 

Well, that wiped the smile right off his face. “Who the fuck is Anthony?” Caught between jealousy that another man was on her mind and concern that she may drop dead from whatever was affecting her. 

After their whirlwind first few weeks together, they’d fallen into an arrangement that was very comfortable for the clown. In exchange for her help with secretarial duties, he gave her untold pleasure on tap. Free flow, whenever she wished. And nearly every spare moment, she wished . 

Tears welled up in her eyes. Genuine, devastated tears, not those of ecstasy he’d grown so skilled at pulling from her. “You’re trying to confuse me.” Whelp Anthony had to die. Never met the man, not that he could recall. Stupid name, at that. 

Buggy stepped closer to her, undeterred by the knife. The only thing that held his annoyance at bay was whoever this Anthony was, she apparently meant to stab him. “Sweetheart…” he began. 

“I’m not your fucking sweetheart!” The redhead protested savagely, backing away. 

“C’mon, baby. Tell me what you’re seein.” 

“I’ve had enough of your tricks!” Pere shouted, reaching behind with one hand to search for the door handle. 

Buggy gave a mirthless grin. “You’ve never had enough of me. You never could get enough.” 

“Stay away!” She lashed out, nearly slicing his arm. 

“Or what? You’ll stab me? Go ahead. Knife play’s not really my thing but for you,” he winked at her, “I could be into it.” A white lie. He couldn’t be cut. Wouldn’t be much use in trying. 

The woman hesitated, visibly attempting to reconcile what she was seeing and hearing with what her half conscious mind was telling her. 

Buggy dropped to his knees before her, enjoying the drama of it. This information could lead him to building her a more perfect cage, tying her to him land or sea. “Cut me.” He challenged. “If you want me to bleed, I promise to do my best.”

Chapter Text

Anthony swam in her vision, seeming taller, broader. The features of his face were harder to make out. The things he was saying seemed unlike him. The field beneath her feet was rocking and swaying. 

He was on his knees before her, arms spread wide. “Please baby. Hurt me.”

“Don’t call me baby,” she insisted, extending the blade out from her body. 

His voice rose harshly. “C’mon! Do it like you mean it!” No, this was wrong. Did he think she was a coward? 

“I’m going.” The woman turned her back, reaching for the door, and the man grabbed her wrist. Pere lashed out, swinging the blade to impale him in the shoulder. 

She gasped, horrified by the impulse, frozen in shock as she awaited the inevitable blood flow. It never came. The flesh warped and stretched, segmenting away from the knife. In her surprise, she lost her grip on her weapon and it clattered to the ground. The wound formed back together, unharmed. 

“…Buggy?” She asked. 

“…yesssss?” He responded sweetly. 

“…did you respond to me having a panic attack by having me stab you?” She questioned. 

“I was playing the role of Anthony.” He clarified. 

“For. What. Purpose?” She gritted. 

“Rehearsing, for when I stab Anthony.” He explained. 

The dam overflowed. “Nobody’s stabbing Anthony!”

“I beg to differ!” The clown crowed. “Plus, it was a test.” 

Pere rubbed her temple, annoyed. “A test of what?” 

“To see if you’d really kill him.” 

Chapter Text

The redhead sat on the bunk, head in hands, attempting to block out the incessant questioning buzzing about her. “It was just a stupid dream.” She insisted, “I don’t have a tragic backstory. I don’t even know why I thought of him.” 

Buggy had been neglecting his captainly duties all morning in favor of trying to pry information from her — namely: titles, family names, identifying features, etc. Information someone like, per se, a bounty hunter may find useful. 

“Show you mine if you show me yours.” The clown attempted cheekily, sitting hip to hip with her, sans coat and belt, openly aware of the effect the sight of the sliver of his chest showing had on her. Is that what they were doing now? Trading origin stories?

The woman leaned slightly towards him, inhaling his natural scent, transfixed. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. “I’ve seen yours.” Flirty, her statement was laced with innuendo. “Big fan.” 

He grinned at the banter, leering down at her. He caressed her jaw, chasing the train of thought. “Be a good girl, and I’ll give you a treat.” 

She smiled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Tempting. But I can’t promise you information that doesn’t exist.” 

Buggy growled, rising to pace the length of the cabin for several minutes. Erratically breaking pace, you could practically see the lightbulb come on over his head. “Play a game with me.” 

“A sexy game?” The redhead racked her eyes up the length of his body. 

He kneeled before her, eye level, grinning, tongue in cheek. “A classic.” The clown brushed a loose hair behind her ear. “Truth or dare. Oldest game there is. But I’ll make it extra dirty for yah.”

Wasn’t that a Christmas game? Tell someone what you wrapped for them or unwrap a present or your own? Vaguely, Pere could recall playing it with her family when she was small. 

She batted her eyes at him. “ Truthfully …I’d rather dare to suck your cock instead.” 

“Then play the game.” Crystal eyes considered her carefully, smoldering with a dark intensity, not budging an inch from his purpose. 

The woman folded her legs in front of her, scooting back to rest her shoulders against the headboard. “…my parents used to drink, when they played this game.” The smallest taste of truth. 

“Rum or whiskey?” He conceded. 

“I don’t know the difference,” she admitted. 

“The sting.” The Captain winked, playing into her filthy thoughts. He snagged two glasses, but she shook his head, and he read her meaning immediately. It was a crude manipulation — the least they could do was drink directly from the bottle. The clown settled across from her, a bottle of a brown liquid in his hand. It had a wax seal, and some characteristic of a hangman on the side. 

“Well; truth or dare, Captain?” The formality was teasing, dangerous. The woman made it her goal to derail him in any way she could. 

Buggy took a swig of the alcohol, grinning against the burn of it, then passed the bottle to her. “Truth.” Unexpected, as his outlandish acts accounted for a large portion of his notoriety. 

“Have you ever been married?” The question was careful, gentle. Beginning the game with ease. 

“No.” He answered simply. “Truth or dare.” 

She drank. “…truth.” A carefully calculated move. 

“Why do you hate him? Anthony.” Pere could tell he was fixing on the common man, wishing him into existence to grind into dust.

A scoff. “I don—“ c’mon, girl, it was in the name itself. “Because if he had wanted me when I hoped he would, I’d be a journeyman’s wife today.” And I wonder if I never grew out of that.

A potent mix of jealousy and rage sparked to life in her lover’s eyes, but he restrained himself. He extended a hand out for the bottle. 

“Truth or dare.” She continued. 

The clown put two fingers to his temple, willing away his intrusive thoughts. “Dare.” 

“Kiss me like you love me.” 

Chapter Text

Pere expected a witty remark, or a blatant refusal. The pirate was rarely a man of his word, after all.  Instead, his gaze bore into hers. He grasped her chin between two fingers, tilting her lips to meet his. 

He drank her in, tangling his tongue in hers. With impressive composure, his other hand cupped her back at the base of her spine. Her body was barely concealed by the silk nightgown Buggy had sourced alongside a recent shipment. 

The woman shifted blindly, hurriedly setting the bottle on some nearby surface. Arching into him, she strained closer, nipples hardening as they brushed against his chest. 

Sweetness poured into the kiss, the Captain savoring her fully. His hand on her back rubbed low circles through the fabric. While his member was visibly hardening against his trousers, his reaction was nowhere in league with hers. 

Pere kissed him back passionately, whining low in her throat. Shifting her weight to her knees so that her calves were behind her, she ground down against the bedding impulsively. 

So, why didn’t it feel any different than usual?

As soon as it began, it was over. The jester pulled his head away, leaving her clutching at his shoulders. “I need it —“ she protested, chasing the taste of him. Her sex was uncomfortably tense, growing moist from the brief contact. 

Buggy chuckled darkly, observing her composure faltering. “I know , baby.”  He brushed the back of his hand across her hair, then shifted his grip down to her throat, holding her back from him by it.  “I know.”  

“Please—“ 

“Play the game.” His tone left no room for argument. The clown had no intention of yielding to her — she would give him the information he desired. Even if he had to break her down to nothing but a mewling beast in the process. “Truth or dare.” 

“Dare.” Her apprehension had left, and all she wanted was to be commanded to do something obscenely lewd. 

Little did she know, she was playing directly into his hands. This version of the game was a fucked up falacy of the original — designed to pry her open at the seams and allow him to see what laid inside. 

“Hmm. Do you need a little taste, darlin? Something to hold you over?” The woman nodded desperately, high on the emotions the kiss had brought her. “Hike up your skirt and take your pleasure, from the exterior alone.” 

There was no need to tell her twice as she climbed into his lap. She awaited instructions, worrying the dare would be null and void if she acted out of place. Buggy reached down to free his cock, tugging down his trousers and breeches just enough to allow his member to spring forth and rest against her center. She was drenched in want from his attentions, the warm slide of his cock spreading the juices around. 

Shamelessly, she bounced up and down in his lap, gyrating her hips into his most sensitive place. 

“Truth or dare,” she stuttered out, resuming the game with a mischievous smilie on her lips. 

Chapter Text

Buggy’s cock pulsed against her. “Truth.” 

“Wh-what made you want to be a pirate?” It was hard to keep control, the query coming out breathless. 

The clown shrugged, unabashed. “Gold. Power. Freedom. Being able to take what I want.” He clucked his tongue, leering at her. “Truth or dare, baby.” 

The motion of her hips were pulling little moans and gasps from her, prompting her to roll her head back periodically. “Uh. Uh. Truth.” Fuck, wrong choice. 

“Why do you think any man wouldn’t want you?” This wasn’t asked as flattery, in fact, there was a cruelty to it. A tone as if he thought she was being blatantly stupid to insinuate she’d been rejected by some random man. In the captain's mind, his regard was highly superior to that of those around him. If he found anything remarkable in her, anyone who didn’t was purely idiotic. 

“H-he told me so,” spite, stemming from all aspects of that scenario, closed into the edges of the clown’s features. Aggression built in his frame, and he shifted a hand to thumb her clit. Pere gasped, grinding helplessly against the contact. “Mmh, mmm — ah, why. Uh, the why. He said I was vulgar. That I had a sinner’s mind and a whore’s body.”

The set of Buggy’s jaw sharpened; she could practically hear his teeth gritting. He dug his thumb sharply into her nub, flicking and rolling it under his hand. “What did you want him to do to you?” Possessive, jealous rage cascaded over his words. 

Ignoring the rules of the game, she reached back in her memory for quotes. “I, oooh, told him that marriage would be more fun if the s-sex came before the wedding night.”

Silence followed, the pirate making a show of listening for a follow up. “Annnnd?” He drawled. “That’s it? Really? No ritual sacrifice? Piss play? Blood kink?” The list was recited shamelessly, all clearly ideas he’d considered or experienced himself. 

Pere blinked at him, caught off guard. The vulgarity of their habits together wasn’t lost on her, but she had simply imagined that pirates had less sexual stigmas. He had to know what the average land dweller demanded of his wife. 

“Oh, almost forgot!” The clown exclaimed. 

“What?” She met his eyes, confused. 

“This.” As explanation, he intensified the attack of her clit, bearing down until her back arched at an impossible angle, climax racking her body with an intensity that her seeing spots behind her eyes. Releasing his hold on her lower back, he allowed her to collapse limply back on the bed. 

Chest heaving, Perry closed her eyes to brace herself against the frantic spinning of the room around them. It was delicious, perfect, luxurious. Her pulsing sex was soaked and felt cold against the open air. 

“Imagine I’m him.” Buggy demanded, chasing a notion. 

She furrowed her brow. “I—-don’t want to do that.” 

“Imagine I’m him,” he repeated, “imagine I own you, by the laws of the land. Imagine your flesh and blood alike belongs to me , before men and gods. What would you ask for in return?”

Slightly resistant, she closed her eyes and let her imagination drift. This is what she was best at — the fantasy. “As my husband…I’d want you to get the root that makes a woman barren. And then I’d want you to act as though you were breeding me, bending me over every surface in our household and filling me with your cum.”

Maybe she’d imagined it, but she swore she heard a choked inhale. She smiled, knowing she’d drawn him into her imaginations. “You’d have company come to call, and they’d drink too much, and get bold. They’d ask to come around when you weren’t there, and you’d overhear. So you’d fuck me in front of them, making me scream your name until my voice was so hoarse I’d had no words for them.” As sinister as these plans were, her voice was soft, blissed out. 

Pere pressed her lips together against a grin. She was amping them both up to the point of no return. “I’d beg you to stop, embarrassed, because I’d be a proper lady. But you’d show them how I cum for you; you’d hold me down by the throat and suck my juices from your fingers.” 

Playing with him now, she continued to set the scene for him. “ And I’d be so needy for more that I’d forget they were there. I’d get on my knees and beg you for your cock, for all to see.” 

“…you’d wish that of a husband?” The clown choked, lips slightly parted, pupils blown wide. Madness was readily apparent in his features. A mania was overtaking him, a feral need to act, to punish her for teasing him to an awakening. 

“Only if he was you.”

Chapter Text

The next several rounds of the game were shallow, clarifying questions from him — why did you eat the devil fruit?, why the circus theme, etc. These topics helped her to build a background at the very least deeper than the general one the rest of the crew had. 

Buggy was pouting, primarily, and Pere was sleepy and sated, so picking truth every single time. He discovered quickly that while she would tell him when, what, where, why — he wasn’t familiar with any of the surrounding area where she grew up. Her town was that only locals knew of. Pirates had never been spotted there. It was far from any sea or ocean, and even higher pedigree citizens carried pistols and knives. It wasn’t dangerous — it was well informed. 

Taking another swig of alcohol, the redhead laughed goodheartedly. “No, we fought all the time. Even my mother got into it with a farmer that lived down the road from us. Those walking canes fancy ladies carry are no joke.” 

“You never spar with us.” The clown pointed out. 

She shrugged. “I have zero self control. I’d get stabbed trying to, like, grab your ass or something.” 

Buggy, well tipsy, dissolved into hysterics. “Can you imagine Alvida’s face?” The man put on an elevated air, poorly mimicking the Latina’s voice. “Is this what you call leadership, clown?” 

“She doesn’t understand the value of morale !” Pere added jazz hands to the final statement, snorting. 

Rolling his eyes, the Captain took the bottle from her and had a swig. “So, was the circus awkward for you growing up or…?” 

“My family never took me to the circus, actually.” 

“Because you’d try to fuck the clowns, huh?” He tutted, shaking his head in faux judgement. 

“Hey!” She shouted, grabbing a pillow and hitting him over the head with it. 

The clown propelled a hand above him, grabbing the pillow in the process and suspending it out of her reach about their heads. 

“What does it feel like?” Pere asked in wonderment. 

He followed her gaze. “To break into pieces? It’s second nature, now. Useful. Reactions make it fun. Some more than others.” Buggy fixed her with a heated look. “But my body wants to be whole. I can sense them nearby; the parts want to be with me, because they’re never truly separate. The nerves and muscle keep working the same way.” 

Absorbing the information, the woman looked back to his face. “It’s not…clowns, in general.” 

“Oh?” Go on , his expression seemed to say. 

“I just like you.” She told him sweetly. 

The Captain smirked, knowing that the drink had taken the edge off her usual vulgarity. He’d never mistaken her for a sugary individual, not when her graphic remarks were the first thing he’d encountered of her. “I’m sure you do, doll. You’re always thinking with your dick.” 

“Uh-uh.” Pere denied. “I think you’re funny. And so handsome. Creative, fun, skilled—“ she babbled on, listing essentially every trait she’d ever observed him having. Eventually, she realized what she was doing and pressed her fingers to her own lips, suddenly shy. 

Grabbing her wrist, Buggy pulled her hand towards himself, kissing her knuckles in a roguish way. “Now, now, I don’t recall telling you to stop.”

Chapter Text

Buggy The Clown. The Genius Jester. Future Owner of One Piece. And recently, the King of Falling Upwards. 

The Captain strolled the upper deck, reading recent weather predictions off a scroll. Typically, such forecasts could be used to avoid a headwind, and though he employed a navigator, his paranoia demanded he see everything with his own eyes. 

Recently, he’d grown in power and notoriety. Arlong was MIA. Most of his rivals had been defeated, permanently, by the Straw Hat Crew. Alvida was hardly competition, the Latina’s need to ruin and possess anything that caught her eye would ultimately be her demise. 

Not that he was planning that, persay. He’d give her the benefit of the doubt. There really was something to say for how having a regular bedfellow improved a man’s mood (not to mention one as obsessive and depraved as oneself, if not more so). Certain…topics had been weighing heavily at his psyche, but it was nothing the salt water air couldn’t put to ease. 

While the alliance between the two crews had only been ongoing for a number of weeks, Buggy found himself having far less growing pains than his co captain. Alvida’s crew was known for containing a large number of stunners, their fascination with appearances leaving them weak to flashy shows of power. And that’s what the male captain was best at. 

The slightest kind word had the seasoned members of Alvida’s crew jelly in the knees, after years of degradation and menace from the fierce woman. Alvida wasn’t picky when it came to demographics, either, her crew a mix of men, women, and hybrids. 

Despite his reservations about his own appearance, Buggy was well aware that he had certain assets and abilities that the female population may romanticize. But they hardly fell at his feet like Pere seemed to believe they did. That Buggy allowed her to believe they did. Her belief that there was no greater lover, man, or, ahem, object in the world only fueled her rampant obsession with him. 

And oh, how the Captain had a thing for obsession. 

The main difference between the pair was that Buggy wore his mania on his sleeve, and Pere came off to most as a sweet, charismatic girl in over her head. 

To the contrary, she held her own better than any woman he’d ever known. She was thoughtful, smart, and in her own way, vicious. Just thinking about that last one started sending blood to swell his member. 

Whispers were spreading around the ship, some accounts more ludicrous than the next; the crew had taken notice that the woman was rarely seen apart from the Captain in the morning and at night, despite how they kept to their own devices during the day. 

They weren’t trying to hide their connection. It was the fact that Pere could get absolutely. Nothing. Done. When the Captain was within sight. And Buggy wasn’t far behind her. At times, he’d catch a glimpse of her transcribing something, and the simple action of his eyes on her turned her lustful. 

It was overwhelming, but oh so gratifying. It was growing increasingly more challenging to deny her whims. The woman had slightly more self control in private, when focusing on separate tasks, but if she caught him doing something particularly authoritative, strenuous, outlandish, or frankly, piratey at all, the effects were undeniable. 

Pere would pause in whatever she was doing, making a strong effort to conceal her reaction. She would bite the inside of her lower lip, attempting not to be slack jawed and hooded gazed. She’d force herself to look away, then allow her eyes to wander back, tracing his frame with intensity. And…if he allowed his observations to continue past that point, he own fragile self control would force him to brutally fuck her in a closet, or in a covert way, or on the floor of his cabin right inside the door — the list went on. 

One instance in particular, she’s paused sorting through silver as he passed her to look up at him through her lashes and he’d noticed her clutching her skirt as she shifted from foot to foot, and it had been as though he’d been transported directly to his bunk. He had her screaming, mewling, begging — claiming she had done nothing to prompt the event. 

“Be more careful what you wish for,” he’d hissed in her ear, plunging his aching cock into her waiting cunt. And then her own inclinations would compound and she would beg him to fuck her face, to stretch her pussy with toys, fingers, and tongue. 

And he didn’t trust her in the least, because the things she insisted on him doing to her were frankly a hazard to her health. At one point, she’d gotten so worked up that she had asked him to take a blade, carve his initials into her breasts, and drink the blood. On another occasion, she’d blatantly asked him to piss inside her. 

He’d had to refuse her those. 

See, he fancied himself a villain but… jeez-us . 

Chapter Text

Far be it from a modest (hah!) clown to criticize female on female social interactions, but there was a breed of women that Buggy simply had no respect for. 

Sure, he lied, stole, killed. He wasn’t exactly the expert on what was fucked up. But women who were suddenly interested in a man when a beautiful woman deferred to him gave off an overpowering stench of disingenuity. 

The tiny sliver of his attention that he alloted to the conversation told him this was the matter at hand. The only context he had seen the slender brunette before him in was buzzing around his lover as she worked, gifting sugary compliments.  Mallow? Was that her name? 

“Captain Buggy!” The brunette whined. Buggy’s ear twitched, threatening to flee off into the abyss rather than listen to whatever drivel was bound to come next. He forced himself to glance her way, as she was an old favorite of Alvida’s, if he recalled. 

“Yessss?” He singsonged, turning a faded map over, attempting to retrace the lines atop a whiskey barrel.  

The woman clasped her hands together near her hips, a very intentional show of attempting to press her breasts together for easier viewing. Buggy took note of it, disinterested. Speaking of breasts, by the seas did his girl have some good ones. The women who you would often see on docks or aboard ships tended to be on the thinner side, and while there wasn’t anything distasteful about that, Perry’s soft curves took the book. Her breasts bounced deliciously when she would ride him. Mm .

Oh, Alvida’s girl was still talking. “Something more interesting was in my head. What did you want?”

The woman pouted. “I was asking why you never dine with the crew, captain. Even Alvida comes down to mess every now and again.” She cooed, “It does well to maintain appearances, you know.” Mallow twirled a lock of her hair. 

“The appearance of what?”  he snarked. “Everybody loves me.” 

“Well,” the woman drawled, “I certainly do. But some of the men might get the wrong idea.” 

Buggy rolled his eyes. “Pfft. And what idea is that?”

Mallow shifted closer, hooding her eyes in a way he was sure was meant to be seductive. “Well, maybe that you think you’re better than us.” 

A blue brow arched towards his hairline. “I do think that. That’s what the ‘Captain’ means.”

She retreated, shrugging. “Of course, of course, but you know. It isn’t good to give any of your crewmembers unequal treatment and we’re a crew now.” The note on crew was said like family , and he didn’t agree. 

“Well,” he leveled, “I suppose I can make an appearance.” He shook the paper, making to roll it up. “ Allow you all to bask in my presence prior to having sweet little dreams.” 

So, he attended supper with the crew that night,  and let Pere know in advance. She was slightly disappointed, as the woman had a pension for asking for dessert , even before the meal began.

“It’ll be good to socialize.” He told her. “We’ll be fighting alongside these idiots soon enough.” 

So, here he was, in mess, completely unable to focus on his food. His lover had strategically positioned herself in such a way that he, and only he, had a view of under the table she was eating at. And this fucking minx wasn’t wearing anything under her dress.

Alvida’s lackey was sitting as close as she could manage to the elevated barrel that Buggy was perched on. Mallow kept leaning forward to ask some useless question every now and again, but the clown wasn’t hearing it. 

Near the beginning of the meal, when the redhead had been sure that his eyes were on her, she shifted her heel to draw attention downward, and spread her legs provocatively. The clown had raised a brow, intrigued by the masculine position that she chose to sit in. Hardly comfortable for a woman in a skirt.

Her intentions quickly became clear as her fingers toyed with the hem of her skirt. She bunched the fabric up, near her hips, allowing it to barely cover her. The dress served to hide her hand from sight from her sides, and the top looking down. However, from the front, her glistening cunt teased his sight as she stroked a finger down the folds nonchalantly. 

One of his crewmembers, an acrobat, if he recalled, was engaging her in conversation. Pere was the picture of composure, keeping secret the torture she was inflicting upon him.

The brunette across from him whined again, complaining that he wasn’t listening to her. Fair enough. He wasn’t. 

“Oh, Captain,” she announced loudly, fluttering her lashes and resting her chin on her hand. It was clearly flirting, but it was not particularly good flirting. “How did you get the brilliant idea to use performers in the place of animals?”

Across the room, Pere snorted, covering her mouth behind a cloth. 

Mallow turned sharply, a hateful look threatening her features before her countenance morphed into sickly sweetness once more. “Oh, sorry darlin, did you have something to say?”

“No, no. Of course not.” Pere deflected. She smiled tensely. “It’s a great question. It’s not like we’re on a boat or something.”

The male captain laughed openly cheering her with a glass. He was paying attention to their banter now, though it was a sore disappointment that the redhead had let her skirt fall back down to her knees. All the men present at the meal buckled down for the classic passive aggressive tense exchange they’d expect from women at odds. 

But they didn’t know his girl like he did. 

Chapter Text

 “You’re usually so submissive. I’m surprised, is all.” Mallow feigned concern. 

The redhead carefully picked bits of meat off of her plate, chewing dismissively. “And you’re usually a bitch. So not surprised. At all.”

A crack in the facade, the brunettes composure faltered slightly. “Have I offended you in some way?” 

Pere shrugged. “Hey, you brought up the circus. Let’s talk about the elephant in the room.” She cast an exasperated glance in Buggy’s direction, who quickly shifted from enjoying the show to what? What did I do?  

“You come to me asking how to get under a man’s skin, acting all sad and lonely. Knowing who my frame of reference will be.” The woman continued, “Saying you’ve been madly pining for someone for years but are too embarrassed to say who. Then, miraculously, not a day later, someone well known for wanting to dine alone feels obligated to make a public appearance.”  

The other crew members were silent now, listening to the ordeal pan out. The object of the altercation had his gears visibility turning. While he stayed silent for the moment, he’d cast aside his meal and had his brow furrowed, realizing he’d been manipulated. 

Mallow huffed like a cornered animal, realizing that those that had known her for years would be able to confirm a pattern of behavior. Home wrecking, that is. “I’m confused…are you upset at me for being friendly? Why are you protesting me and Buggy trying to get to know each other better?” 

“Captain.” The pirate chimed in, warningly. “Save face, if you’d like, but you will show respect.” 

Alvida’s girl jerked back as though burned, making a big show to well up tears in her eyes. “I meant no offense! Plenty of your men refer to you by name alone. And— even the girl does at times.”

“The girl ? You best not be talking about me!” Pere threw down her fork, sitting back hard in her chair to glare across the table at Mallow. 

Not one to be outdone, the brunette got to her feet in a hurry, stalking over to the table. “Why are you being so rude? You have no claim!” 

“The fuck are we supposed to be claiming? The right to utilize common sense?” The curse took several of the pirates aback, unused to hearing a lady speak as such. 

Mallow floundered. “What right do you have to monopolize his attention?” The argument was becoming increasingly more personal, rapidly uncomfortable for all those witnessing it. “If relations between crew are acceptable, my intentions are harmless.” 

“Oh please, you’re groveling for a pity fuck, he makes me beg him to stop, we are not the same.” Pere rolled her eyes, standing to be eye level with her aggressor. 

The brunette's ruse came tumbling with a gasp, and she hissed “how dare you?” flinging her arm out and striking the redhead across the face. 

The action was impulsive, sending a ripple through the crew as would a gunshot. Many had a delayed reaction, jolting towards the pair as if they could still prevent the physicality between them. 

Buggy was on his feet, expression dark. All mirth was gone from his features, and his hand was clutching at his belt where he wore his pistol.

The redhead was frozen in place, shellshocked. 

Mallow immediately regretted the slap, but had the audacity to put on an air of superiority. “You— you shouldn’t have spoken to me that way, I didn’t mean—“

We never did find out what she didn’t mean, as Pere grabbed her by the hair and smashed her face against the table. 

Chapter Text

The redhead sharply pulled the brunette's head back up again, taking satisfaction in the sight of the blood now dripping from her nose and lip. “See, that’s another mistake on your part. You have to mean it.” 

Mallow sneered against the pain, perhaps wanting to make a degrading comment, but Pere slammed her head back on the table before she could get a chance. Letting the handful of hair free, Pere tracked the path of her opponent's body as it slid back and collapsed to the floor. 

The scribe stepped up on the table, kicking plates over the side as she did so to splatter the brunette with food. She dropped down on the other side, observing as Mallow attempted to compose herself. 

The rush of catching her off guard was potent, but Pere wouldn’t get comfortable. Brawling one oh one was that you try to get as severe a hit in as you can whilst your contender was monologuing, however, this wasn’t a schoolhouse fight. Mallow was a long term member of an accredited pirate crew — there had to be more to her than being pretty. 

With a flare of drama, the brunette looked up sinisterly from where she was sitting on the floor, opening her mouth to no doubt announce some grand plot twist that would turn the tides.

Pere kicked her in the face before she had the chance. “If you’re trying to pull out some smoke bomb or dagger, save the dramatics. I have a pistol in my belt.” Giving her opponent a slight respite, the redhead turned her attention to the bystanders, who were frozen in uncertainty. “You all saw her instigate. If she wants a fight, she’s got one.” 

There was a murmur of contention, then the pirates one by one rose from their seats to form a circle around the room. They were condoning the duel, weaponry or lack thereof. 

Buggy had quickly gone from menacing to whimsical, absolutely thrilled by the turn of events. He stood near the front of those observing, eyes sparkling with untold merriment. 

Mallow had risen to her hands and knees, looking desperately around the group for assistance. The Captain, who easily wielded the most power of the bunch, grinned broadly at her, wiggling his fingers in a mocking wave. It was a very clear communication that he would do nothing to help her. 

“Get up.” Pere commanded coldly, “or do you only know how to make men fight your battles for you?” 

The redhead leaned back against the table that she had just scaled, looking down on Mallow in every sense of the phrase. 

“Whatever business I have with the captain is none of yours. Because I know damn well he isn’t sharing your bed.” Malice coated her words. She felt uncharacteristically bold. It was like that when it came to the clown. Vicious. Obsessive. Impulsively violent. 

“If this little incident and the way you’re acting wasn’t enough to tell me that,” the redhead went on, “I could draw context clues from the fact that he simply has no time to visit your bed when he has me pinned to his all hours of the day.” 

Pere strode forward to hiss the next words at Mallow. “Do you need me to describe what bliss it is to get fucked by him? Would that satisfy your curiosity?” She accentuated the inquiries with a bitter syllable feigning ecstasy. “It’s so fucking good. I’m honestly a little sad for you.” 

“Ooh, brutal.” The pirate captain whistled.  “That had me scared. Mostly horny, but a little scared.” 

Pere gave him a dirty look, and he shut right up. Dirty angry that was, not dirty lewd, though he sure liked the look of those better. He maintained the proverbial heart eyes, though, he just couldn’t help it. 

The redhead turned her attention back to Mallow. “Answer me.” 

Chapter Text

Genuine fear was present on the brunette's face, her thin hands ghosting over her swollen and bloody features. Tears grew heavy in her eyes — tears of rage. “My face…”, she garbled, “you’ve ruined my face.” 

“You’ll be okay.” Pere intoned, “I don’t see teeth on the ground anywhere. It’ll heal.” The redhead scanned the busted features. “I mean, maybe.”

Mallow swallowed heavily, struggling. “Y-you…you!” In a great effort, she pushed herself off the floor and flung her body towards the other woman. The pirate audience cheered and jeered, egging them on. 

Caught slightly off guard, the scribe tumbled to the ground with the force of the impact, instinctually bringing her forearms up to cover her head. Mallow had carefully polished, sharp fingernails, pouring all her might into slapping and clawing at Pere. Her proverbial claws gouged flesh from the other woman’s guarding limbs. 

The redhead redirected her attention to primary blocking with one arm, using the other to steady and fend off. She was the more muscular of the two, brute forcing the flailing hands away from her. It was a struggle, but Pere managed to get one of her legs out from underneath them, using it to pour her body weight into a sharp upwards knee thrust. The blow contacted Mallow’s lower gut, sending her rolling to one side. 

Floundering now, she scrambled to utilize her assets, the brunette managing to produce a dagger from her boot and in one smooth motion plunge it into Pere calf. The redhead hissed, crying out. Adrenaline masked the majority of the pain, allowing rage to be the dominant emotion. 

Lost in her satisfaction, Mallow was a second too slow to follow up prior to Pere clicking a pistol in place at her temple. The roar of the crowd grew louder, more erratic, and it was hard to make out what they were shouting. 

A door slammed. “That’s enough!” Alvida‘s voice boomed above the ruckus. The Latina strolled into the area, wearing a thick silk dressing gown. Her hair was tucked up in a silk wrap, revealing she’d been dragged out of bed to address the issue. She sighed. “What is the meaning of this?” 

Everyone froze. Pere lowered the pistol. Mallow was less obedient, taking the distraction to grab the knife in her opponent’s leg, twist, and rip it free. 

A searing jolt of pain emanated up the redhead’s leg, and it may have begun the fight anew, had she not been removed from the moment. Though she had not seen him approach, Pere found herself being lifted into Buggy’s arms. He had a unique tendency to realize when something had gone just a little too far, and he was removing her from the situation before it could further escalate. 

The remaining triumph fled from Mallow as she observed the interaction, bitterness coloring her brow.  

The tall man had scooped up his lover via an arm under her behind, coaxing her to clutch one arm around the back of his shoulders and the other finding hold in the collar of his vest. Her useless lower leg hung beneath her, oozing blood in a way that suggested nothing viral had been hit. That far up the calf was mainly fatty softness. It would be uncomfortable, once the chemicals stopped churning around in her brain, but not permanent. 

Retreating to the far side of the room, he settled himself in a wide chair, Pere in his lap. She was still wildly mad at him, but she could read a room. They could sort out their issues later. Plus, she was feeling the slightest bit petty, even though the closeness wasn’t performative. 

Absent-mindedly, the clown tucked her hair back from her face, allowing her to be less openly ruffled. She tugged her sleeves down over the angry red marks on her arms. Exhaustion was creeping into the corners of her vision. 

The female captain tracked the small intimacies, befuddled. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Explain.” 

Chapter Text

Now alone in the center of the room, Mallow did her best to compose herself, sniffling. She set the dagger behind her, attempting to hide it from sight. “Alvidddddaa,” she cried, reverting back to her innocent ruse, “I was just trying to help the crew come together and she attacked me!” 

The Latina sighed. “Why don’t I believe you?” 

The brunette’s crying intensified. “What? What do you mean?” 

“Mallow. You’ve worked for me for nearly three years now, and every time we’ve stayed in a port longer than a week, some journeyman’s or farmer’s wife comes round looking for you.” Alvida wasn’t having it, put out and fed up. 

“I’ve tolerated it. I’ve ordered entire farms burned for your sake. It was amusing, even, for a time. How you terrorize married men.” Mallow perked up at that, hopeful. “But I will not allow it to jeopardize this tenuous alliance.” 

Alvida didn’t concern herself with the affairs of underlings, nor did she invest any time in learning the secret inner workings of her crew members. She owned them. The only motivation she cared about was their motivation to serve her. 

Her outlook towards Buggy’s crew had been much the same. 

The female captain surveyed the crowd, somewhat at a loss. The ratio of men to women was extremely distant. Alvida searched for someone amongst them that looked guilty, or perhaps someone who seemed upset by their Captain holding their lover. 

There was none that fit the bill. 

“Who is the lucky gentleman, Mallow?” Alvida demanded. 

The woman shrank in on herself, bloodied face looking contrite for once. She cast a nervous look towards the other crew’s Captain, avoiding Pere’s sharp glare. Then she turned her gaze downwards once more. 

Alvida watched the interaction closely, brows shooting up towards her hairline. “Wait.” She held up a hand. “Are you trying to fuck the clown?” 

The female captain glanced around disbelievingly. She observed Pere once more. “Are you both trying to fuck the clown?”

“Oh, pish posh.” A hybrid on Alvida’s crew chimed in. Oddly enough, he seemed to be defending Pere rather than Mallow. “A sweet, young lady can only be led into depravity by a mad man.” 

“Can it, sheep.” Buggy snapped.
“I’m absolutely trying to fuck the clown.” Pere interjected in the same moment.

Murmurs burst forth from the bystanders — shock, offense, amusement. Many of Buggy’s senior crew members were simply shaking their heads. 

“So…” Mallow spoke desperately, “I’m correct that a crewmember might have the expectation of sharing a bed with the esteemed Captain.”

Pere made as though to serge upwards off of the clown’s lap, furious. Buggy seatbelted an arm around her waist, holding her in place. “Shut your mouth before I shut it for you!” She exclaimed, struggling against her lover’s grip. 

Buggy leaned forward to whisper something in her ear, and she calmed just slightly. 

The gears were turning in Alvida’s mind, piecing together clues and data. “…you’ve got to be kidding me.” 

The Latina turned sharply to Mallow, striding towards her menacingly. “You’re challenging a Captain’s favored plaything? Are you out of your mind? You think so highly of yourself.” The twist of events stoked Alvida’s rage to life. “What right do you have to expect anything from a captain? I’d beat you myself if the job hadn’t been done for me!”

The Captain pointed to a lackey in the crowd, snapping her fingers. “You, bring whiskey and bandages for our guests. Mallow, clown, and…Pereira, is it? Kindly join me in my quarters.” 

Chapter Text

Alvida sat behind a mahogany desk, leaning forward on her elbows to observe the trio before her. Pere was having her leg treated and wrapped by Alvida’s on site doctor, while Buggy sat in the chair next to her, staring at the ceiling. 

Mallow sat awkwardly to the far left of the pair, bouncing her leg in obvious anxiety. The bleeding from her nose had stopped; the swelling had gotten considerably worse, and bruises were already forming around the impact points. She was still undeniably pretty, but her appearances had seen better days. 

The doctor finished his work, and Alvida dismissed him. 

“Let’s find a resolution that puts this matter to rest, shall we? I’d like to hear from each of you before giving a verdict.” The Latina said evenly. Mallow sat up straighter, preparing to defend herself. “Miss…Ms? Mrs? Pereira, I’m afraid I don’t know much about you. Can you tell me what happened?” 

The alliance would have never been formed if Alvida hadn’t had some skill in diplomacy, and she was exhibiting that now. 

Pere, exhausted from blood loss, seemed surprised at the respect shown to her. “Pere is fine. Or Pereira, Captain. I’m not picky.” 

“So I’ve surmised.” Alvida deadpanned, side-eying the clown. 

The redhead blushed. She felt like a child called to the schoolmasters office. Her earlier confidence had faded in lieu of politeness and respect for the policies aboard the ship. 

“…Mallow and I had a disagreement. She got overly upset and she hit me. I retaliated.” Pere calculated her next words. “I have a lot of experience with fist fights and I guess she got overwhelmed because she stabbed me. I pulled my pistol. That’s when you showed up.”

Alvida considered this carefully. “Mallow, what was this disagreement regarding?”

“I didn’t mean to hit her! I just got so upset, I was just trying to get the Captain to be more social!” Mallow pleaded, ignoring the question entirely in favor of pleading her case.

The Latina calmly wrote something down. “I won’t ask you again.” 

Looking closely pre-tantrum, Mallow huffed. “She was being rude to me, and she was completely stealing all of the Captain’s attention!”

Alvida raised a brow. “I didn’t realize you were so dedicated to team dynamics, Mallow. You never seem to want for my attention.” 

The brunette swallowed thickly, expression crumbling. “Captain Buggy, how would you describe your relationship with Miss Pereira?” 

The clown shrugged, reclining in his chair. “Positively?” 

“And with Mallow?” 

“She annoys the fuck outta me.” He clarified. 

Pere’s jaw clenched, infuriated. “Bullshit.” She muttered. 

The clown shifted to face her, holding his hands out beseechingly. “Oh, c’mon baby! Don’t be like that! Whyya mad at me?” 

“Because she fucking wants you!” Anger overflowed. “And you’re just letting her throw herself at you!”

“I’m not letting her do anything! I’ve barely said two words to the little shit!” The pirate shouted back, attempting to defend himself. 

The redhead kicked his chair with her good leg, making little headway due to his unnatural strength. “You’re full of shit!” 

“I mean, yeah! But not right now!” 

Alvida cut in. “—discuss it amongst yourselves later. Something tells me you’re not prepared to sever ties.” 

Pere inhaled deeply, as though to continue ranting, then shut her mouth. Yeah, she really wasn’t.

“How would you characterize your relationship with the Captain? First thing that pops into your head.” The Latina continued. 

“I want him. Not right now. But most of the time.”  She sunk down in her seat, fuming. 

“No need to look apologetic. If I’m being honest, in your position, I would have pulled the trigger.” Alvida tapped her fingers together, thoughtful. 

Mallow gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth. Her cockiness was turning to terror rapidly. Her Captain was in no way known for mercy. 

“To issue the correct punishment for this, I’ll need to know the severity of the issue. You two are clearly in something twisted and very hard to understand, but am I right to say it’s…monogamous?” The female captain queried. 

Surprisingly enough, Buggy answered without hesitation. “Yes.” 

Pere snapped her head around to look at him incredulously. Was he really going to pretend it was that cut and dry? With women falling at his feet? 

“That’s all I need to know.” Alvida put her pen down, rubbing her temple in burn out. She gave Buggy a pointed look. “Take your girl to bed. Fight her, fuck her, whatever. Figure it out. Don’t make this my problem again.” 

The clown nodded, then pointed to Mallow. “What about this bitch?” 

“I’ll have to brainstorm a fitting punishment. Let us confer in the morning.” 

Buggy seemed content with that, standing and turning in a way where it seemed like he meant to lift Pere out of her seat. She batted his hands away, scowling at him. 

The pirate sighed. “You’ve got a bum leg. Whatcha gonna do? Limp to the opposite side of the ship?”

“If that’s what it fucking takes.” The redhead hissed at him maliciously. 

Buggy glanced to the other two women, slightly put out by the audience. He got to his knees in front of the chair, speaking in a soft tone. “C’mon baby. What I gotta do? I could promise you some of that fucked up shit you like, but you gotta heal.” 

That peaked the scribe’s interest, though she tried very hard to hide it. “…you could promise it for the long term.” 

Buggy grinned. “Let me get you to the room and we’ll negotiate. Y’a can scream all you want, in any way you want.” He winked. 

“…wonderful.” Alvida deadpanned from behind the clown’s back. “Now get the fuck out of my office, I have shit to do.” 

Chapter Text

The events of that afternoon had changed things for her. This wasn’t a house on the hill in paradise. It was a hellscape where no one believed things would work out for her. 

Okay, maybe she was being a little dramatic. 

Pere had never really wanted a man. She’d wanted the idea of Anthony, and that had fucked her entire life up. She finally let herself hope a situationship would work out for the best, and now she felt like the entire thing was just a golden cage. 

Usually, when she got worked up, she would manage to cool down fairly quickly, but nothing was working to quel her rage. 

Buggy was walking back to his quarters, one arm under her back and one arm under her knees. Pere had her arms crossed stubbornly over her chest, refusing to touch him. The firm warmth of his hands against her knees felt so good, and it was pissing her off. She was furious with him, but mostly herself for getting so comfortable. So attached. 

And no, she wasn’t planning on expressing any of this to him — she needed to have cards left to play. She’d made herself too vulnerable. Nothing he said could be trusted. How could you have someone fulfill all your bodily wants and not be absolutely repulsed by another woman wanting to worm her way in? 

The redhead felt like shit, like throwing up. A panic attack was impending. Her skin was too tight. Her teeth hurt in her mouth. Bile burned her throat. 

The clown set her down on the bunk as they arrived, careful with her leg. He might have gone to give her space, but she took hold of his hand. He turned, puzzled. She tugged into the grip, and he sat down on his ankles in front of her. “What’s up?” 

Pere let her gaze scan his features, despondent. All she wanted in that moment was a distraction. She drew him into her, pressing her lips to his. One gloved hand went to the tangle in her hair, and he breathed into the kiss. She tested the sensation, sliding her lips across his gently. It felt like the last time. It felt like the first. 

Letting out a frustrated huff, she angrily shoved him away from her. “This isn’t working.” She murmured.  

Flabbergasted, Buggy strangled the air. “What isn’t working, baby? What do you want?” 

The redhead sighed, gloomy. “I want to act like you love me.” She explained. 

“You want me to love you?” He repeated cautiously. 

“No, I want you to act like you love me!” It was hard to describe, yet so painfully obvious. 

The clown sputtered, “I let you get away with so much shit! If action is all you want, I’m already doing that.” He reasoned. 

“ This ,” Pere emphasized the word with a sharp motion between the two of them, “is not what love feels like!” 

That cut into something deep within him. “How the fuck would you know? Huh?” The pirate snapped. “Because of that little shit Anthony?” 

She frowned, groaning. “Oh, my God, drop the fucking Anthony thing. It was gonna be a marriage of convenience at best.” 

“You dream about him.” Buggy accused. 

Her vagina had never been drier. “Like, one time. Just, don’t talk to me, okay?” 

Malice creeped into his frame. “I’ll do whatever the hell I want aboard my ship.”

“Do you mean Alvida’s ship?” She shot back. “Because she was the one speaking sense back there.” 

Buggy clenched his jaw. “The alliance was my idea, she’s the secondary captain here!” 

“How could she be? She keeps her crew in line. Good thing you love the circus, because you’re a fucking joke.” Pere was running her mouth now. It was her fatal flaw.  

That struck a nerve, and he grabbed her by the throat. He squeezed, emitting a gasp from his lover. She stubbornly refused to struggle, glaring at him through her lashes. Tears welled up in her eyes, but they were tears of rage.

The clown spoke the next words maliciously into her ear. “You’re the only one who’s challenging me. Make no fucking mistake, I’ve been lax with you, but I own you.” 

Chapter Text

Was it bad that hate fucking was crossing her mind? It was definitely a bucket list item. 

Fuck; this wasn’t the time to fantasize. She needed to hold her ground for once. 

You must break the pattern today, or the cycle will repeat tomorrow. You must break the pattern today, or the cycle will repeat tomorrow. 

She made a decision just then, though she couldn’t fully conceptualize it just yet. A decision she was sure she would live to regret. But, damn, at least she may live. Because this was destroying her from the inside out. 

They’d been playing house up until now. But the foundation was burning. Because they were equally fucked up, in opposite directions. 

Buggy was deeply insecure, when you really observed him, with a need for affirmation that could be exploited. He wanted a life of grandeur, a picturesque garden of success where everyone either admired or envied him. 

Pere wanted security. Security that nothing could ruin — not emotions, or jealousy, or distance. But that’s not how pirates worked. There was always someone waiting around the corner to take, take, take. Nothing she gained here would ever really be hers 

Especially not him. 

“You’re so fucking naive.” She goaded, poison on tongue. 

“Watch your fucking mouth!” The clown shoved her, throwing her back on the bed with force. He climbed on top of her, straddling her. One hand forced her arms up above her head, the other gripped her chin in place. “Stop this shit, or I’ll make you!” 

The redhead blinked up at him, breathing in then going completely limp on the exhale. “…I hate you.” 

There was silence. Pere had gone dead behind the eyes, exhausted and disappointed. But most of all, resigned. 

Buggy surveyed the situation, the malice in his eyes shifting into something different, something more like devastation. He searched her face for any leeway. Any regret. 

He found none. 

“No…” the clown murmured, “no no no no no, don’t say that. Take it back. Take it back!” It was as though appealing to a tidal wave — it would all come crashing down anyways. 

Pere shook her head. “I mean it. I can’t stand you.”

“You’re lying.” He insisted. “You love me.” The statement was pleading, more for himself than for. 

The woman blinked back tears, biting her lip. “We’re sure using that word a lot. I don’t think either of us know what it means.” 

The pirate released her arms, changing tactics and cradling her face in both hands. He stroked his thumbs over her cheeks. There was no sweetness in this action — only manipulation. Threatening her hadn’t changed her mind, hadn’t made her give way, and he was merely switching tactics now. 

He was so addicted to the obsession she fed him. The effects of withdrawal were nearly immediate, and he was growing scared. All his triumphs were slipping through his fingers. 

Buggy gathered himself, making an enormous effort to cool his anger. His discomfort was palpable. This game they’d been playing…all of a sudden, he was losing.  

Gently, he leaned down to breathe against her neck. He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, like she was a fragile thing. “You don’t mean that. You want me. Tell me you want me.” 

Chapter Text

The redhead attempted to pull her head out of his grip, not wanting to look at him. It was as much her fault as his, but she didn’t want to do this anymore. The edge of madness was no place to live, though it had been its own kind of beautiful to visit. 

The tactics being used to turn the tides were neither loving or genuine. And she didn’t want them to be. The rose haze she’d been viewing the world with was losing it’s pigment. 

“Baby…” the clown pressed kisses along her neck, and she’d have been lying if she said that didn’t stir something in her gut. She was still bare beneath her dress, and the single layer didn’t little to keep the heat of his body from her. 

Pere didn’t respond. She didn’t make a sound. Her lover was cut off from her. Adrift at sea. 

And she was thinking. Thinking about everything that had happened, and formulating paths forward from here. None of them seemed positive. That the thing with anger — it tends to linger. Affection, on the other hand, that shit went fast. 

The pirate was gaining no traction with her mind, but Pete’s body was deeply betraying her. Wetness was forming between her legs, begging her to give in. 

And that wasn’t the only begging in the moment. The lack of reaction was absolutely killing Buggy. He couldn’t stand to lose, and he couldn’t imagine not having complete access to something that he considered his. 

That’s precisely why she needed to hold off her carnal needs as long as she could. 

Make no mistake, she was under no illusion that she’d be able to stonewall him forever. Nor would it be a wise decision to. If he perceived her actions as a complete betrayal rather than stubbornness, he very well may kill her. 

And if she refused him for too long, she didn’t think he would be able to stop himself from taking her by force. Because they both knew the consent would still be there. They had spoken of cat and mouse games like this one — consensual non consent. As othered as she knew he could be, she didn’t believe his own narrative would allow him to take a woman who truly didn’t want him. 

That being said, her body was hurting. Rough sex wasn’t really on her short list of activities that sounded fun at the moment. 

“Please baby,” he continued. “Look at me, okay? Let me hold you, okay?” 

Being held was even further down from that same list.

The clown stroked her hair, running his fingers down the curve of her bicep, attempting to evoke any reaction at all. He made no move to undress her, only touching her softly. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His words were growing more manic, disillusioned at her refusal to respond. “C’mon. C’mon. It’s not funny, okay?” 

The hands drifted down to her sides, rubbing circles in the fabric as they did so. God, it felt good. It felt sweet. He was doing exactly as she asked. Wasn’t it too little too late? 

“We can take it slow, okay. Let me do something for you, please. Just for you.” He cooed. 

Pere raised a brow at that, slightly intrigued. It had always ultimately been about him, even if most of the ideas were hers. 

Buggy caught her reaction, clinging to it like a man hanging from a rope over a burning pit. His hands drifted to the hem of her skirt, cautious that she didn’t protest as he pushed the fabric up to her waist. 

Chapter Text

Fuck it, she was turned on. As much as she tried to deny it— the begging was hot. The reverent touches burned in a new way. Her pussy ached, betraying her. 

Careful hands stroked the inside of her thighs, slowly coaxing her legs apart. He was doing what she’d asked — though she hadn’t forgotten she’d forced him into changing his behavior. 

It was toxic, poisonous, and necrotic. The sensations coursed through her system, speeding her heart rate. Spreading her open, much like Buggy’s fingers currently were. Surprisingly, he refrained from commenting on the readily apparent physical symptoms of her attraction. 

It was a sickness, surely. This need for him. It was the sweet voices you’d imagine sirens calling with, though she’d never heard any herself. At that moment, she couldn’t recall if the sirens were real or fiction. 

Because this — this scenario right here was both. She had both achieved the impossible, and lost her drive for it in the some millisecond. The observation of her sex excited her, for as much as she willed her brain not to want him, she did. 

Impulse control wasn’t her forte. And this was killing her. It was a torturous battle between them. He only wanted to take her this way because she had resisted him.  And she didn’t want to want him anymore. Yet, by the seas she did. The kink of it was glorious, all encompassing. 

An orgasm was building in her gut, and he’d barely touched her. Damn if she wasn’t going to fight against it with everything she had. Curse the reactivity of her body, her muscles tendencies to lean towards pleasure. 

Her hips jerked slightly as his breath ghosted over her clit. Fuck. Fuck. She wanted his mouth on her. She wanted him to get away from her. She wanted to stay. She wanted to go. 

Maybe, if she focused on the pleasure enough, the rest would fade into the background. Maybe the rest wouldn’t matter. Maybe…just maybe, she could try and make it work. 

Or her horny brain was overriding her logic again. 

The wild urge to impale herself on his dick endlessly was like strings on a puppet, frail and stretched out as those chords were. 

Would it be less humiliating if she let him fuck her tenderly? Would it sting less? Would it satisfy the itch she had never been able to fully scratch? 

The pirate placed a kiss upon her clit. Cautiously, he ran his tongue down her center. Salvia seeped into her, mixing with her juices that were starting to leak down the creases stretching down from her hip bones. 

“You taste so good, sweetheart.” He praised her. “Won’t you let me hear you, darling? Your voice is so sweet.” The love bombing didn’t go unnoticed. The sickly sweetness of his language was grotesque. 

And of course her deep seated emotional issues had her absolutely eating it up. Pere was aware she was being manipulated. She knew she was enabling it. 

The cry that forced its way from her throat was muffled, though audible, as the pirate dipped his head to lap at her juices. He flattened his tongue against her, wriggling the organ in a way that gave full contact to her clit. 

Adding suction, Buggy evoked her to arch her back towards him. The slightest curl of his lip was visible beyond where his head was bowed between her legs. 

He smoothed his hand up the back of her thigh, inviting her to lift it to rest over his shoulder. Devouring her as though she was the finest cuisine, he sucked, licked, and thrust his tongue inside her. 

Pere was hovering at the peak of hell and ecstasy. The hollowness inside her was becoming unbearable, and she knew the attentive cunnilinguis was designed to make her crave penetration. To make her ask for it. 

Buggy pressed his hand to her stomach, creating internal pressure on her clit to intensify the sensations. Usually, he’d be firing off comment after comment, demanding different feedback. This time, however, he was using his words sparingly, intentionally. 

Taking mercy on her, he slipped two fingers within her channel, pumping them slowly, deeply into her. Her toes curled. She loved it. She was obsessed with it. She wanted it every second of the day. 

The wet slide of his fingers inside of her brought forth her first orgasm, amplifying her need. The inside of her pelvis felt so empty. What she wouldn’t give for his thick cock jammed inside her. Yet, she wouldn’t ask. Couldn’t ask. 

Perhaps she was giving him puppy dog eyes, because he perked up the next time he cast his gaze upwards. “What do you need, gorgeous?” 

A different fucking power dynamic, that’s what. 

Pere put her foot on his chest, pushing him back. “Strip.”  

Chapter Text

Buggy was torn between excitement and trepidation. On one hand, she was responding positively to his touch. On the other, her rage was still burning out of control. In his mind, this fury was unwarranted. 

Most captains, Alvida included, took a large number of lovers, and never paid much mind to their partners needs or wants. Sex was a currency for the majority that lived on land — whether given temporarily or through the pact of marriage. Pirates had other things to bargain with — fear, berry, information. 

The clown captain was known for being unstable. And whilst he was bright and conniving, he rarely considered what emotions he might evoke from others. Outside of annoyance, that was. 

That being said, his skill and charisma was intriguing to many, and he treated his crew well enough that they were loyal to him. There were only so many pirate crews of their caliber around, and most of them viewed lower ranking members as entirely disposable. Buggy was a man’s man. He invested time and energy into physical training and financial advancement. 

On the other hand, he wasn’t one to plow through a long string of women. He liked his partners to either deeply want him, or deeply want something from him. The former was rare to find. In fact, he really hadn’t experienced it outside of a stray night or two with random, disillusioned women. 

It looked good, felt good, was good. And anything that struck his interest gained his pursuit. This chase was growing increasingly difficult with each passing day. 

His lover hated as strongly as she admired. Her anger was just as potent as her obsession, and nearly as brutal. She hadn’t sought him out in the same way he had done for her, yet her strong reactions and unbridled joy at being ravaged was unrivaled by any of his past sexual experiences. 

So, logically, he wanted to keep this. He dug deep into his bag of tricks, pulling out all the stops — and she grew ever more distant from him. The emotional connection that they had been building had weakened at an alarming pace in the last 24 hours. The easy comfort and pleasure they took in each other seemed a distant memory. 

To him, he had done everything he could to content her: 

1. Feed and water her 
2. Give her light and freedom 
3. Indulge her needs often…

Wait, that kind of sounded like he was describing a potted plant rather than a person. Whoops. Well, same difference. Often, she demanded brutality beyond what he could manage in the bedroom. This encounter was different. It was sweet, careful, and uncharted. Each movement and choice Pere made came as a surprise to him. 

The pirate slinked off the bed, coming to a stand. He obliged her, removing his bandana, then his vest, belt, trousers, etc. As he bared more and more skin for her, the redhead seemed more certain in herself. She still wore her flowy dress — the cold shoulder style allowing it to slouch low over her collarbone. 

Her demands were confusing, contradictory at best. So the Captain forced his scattered thoughts into linear motion and did his best to please her. This ruse solidified his possession internally. A gift of submission to show that she stood apart from the crew and all others. 

This service would solidify her loyalty to him. 

Right? 

Standing before her, bared, he allowed her eyes to devour the expanse of tanned flesh. Mirth showed in his crystal eyes; otherwise, he contained himself. His member stood at half mast — interested, not overly expectant. 

The woman sighed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, intensifying her gaze. She looked…bored. And he took that personally. “Get hard for me.” Her demand sent his pace racing a little faster. 

Taking himself in hand, he pumped his cock slowly, with great showmanship. The appendage swelled, proudly pointing skyward. Liquid collected at the tip, gleaming in the low light. 

“Good. Now plead your case.” Her cold tone made his cock jump. A startle, satisfied warmth filled his chest. Concealing a grin, he continued his motions, dropping to his knees before her. 

“I just want to make you feel good, baby. I’m yours to command as you like.” Buggy bargained. 

“Hmm.” Pere considered, “I’m not buying it. Do better.”

What a fresh, fun little game. Almost entertaining enough to give them some sense of normalcy. “Forgive me, beautiful. You make me crazy. I can’t think around you. I don’t mean to be mean. You get me so hot and bothered.” 

The woman clicked her tongue. “…how bothered?” 

A clear challenge. “Can I touch you, darling? Please?”

“Hmm. Alright. Since you asked so nice.” Pere scooted further to the edge of the bed, tracing her foot up his inner thigh to plant it forcefully just to the right of his shaft. He kissed the inside of her knee, and she rolled her skirt back to pool around her waist so he once more had a view of her sex. 

Buggy groaned, staring into her center like a man starved. He bit his lower lip against a larger reaction. Gripping at her hipbones, he crossed his legs under him, lifting her slightly to settle atop him. His cock settled so that it rested directly against her slick core, and he nearly lost his tender control. 

Pere rocked her hips slightly, allowing his member to slide sweetly over her folds. He longed to thrust deeply into her, to hold her to the ground like a trapped animal and lose himself in her pussy. Stress pulled tight at his frame, the possibility she may deny him that satisfaction weighing heavily on his mind. 

“Do you want to fuck me, Captain?” Her crudeness emphasized the shift in the dynamic. 

He moaned viscerally, nodding wantonly. “Yes.” The word came out choked. 

“That’s too bad.” Her tone was pitying. “You haven’t earned it.” 

“Please.” The clown begged, “tell me how to have you.” 

Putting pressure on his chest, she forced him to lay flat on his back on the floor, still sitting in a straddle atop him. Her sex was readily visible to him. Neglecting his shaft, she shifted herself higher on his body, placing her knees just over his shoulders so that his face was inches from his center. “Finger me. Make me come. But don’t touch yourself. If you can’t come from that alone, you lose your chance to fuck me.” 

The scent of her fluids were intoxicating, the steady seeping from her hole exposing her inner thoughts. The thrill she was experiencing from this. 

Reflecting on the variety of positions they’d shared, he teased her sex with proding fingers. His cock jumped, growing more interested in the matter at hand. Shortly, he had her grinding, moaning, screaming with his hand alone. The tendons along her neck stood out as she threw her head back. 

Circling her clit with his thumb, he treated her to a third finger, providing a stretch that her pussy accepted easily. She was close. He knew the signs. The shifting of her hips, the slightest bounce in her frame, and her foundling of her own breasts gave her away. 

The clown was close, too, his member straining helplessly against his stomach. In an overwhelming outpouring, Pere orgasmed suddenly, squirting. Her fluids splattered against his lips and across his nose. The stronger scent and taste was his undoing, and he came with force across her generous backside. 

“Shit.” She whined, extremely turned on by the feeling of his cum on her. The kink forced her to be more honest with her thoughts. “Get yourself hard again. I want you to cum on my pussy and watch me play with it.” 

Don’t threaten him with a good time. 

It was an effort, getting himself back up to his previous hardness. Coming this soon would be an additional challenge. He licked her cum from his lips, focusing on the taste of it. His member pulsed weakly, making an effort at coming back to life. Moments later, the motions of his hand had him hard once more. 

The worked over, shapely cock drew her eyes. Conflict warred on her features, an inner battle surging within her. “Fuck me,” she blurted out abruptly, fragile control shattering. 

That plea flipped a switch, and he dragged her downwards towards his shaft, allowing her to lift her pelvis above him and easing his cock into her. Her walls clenched him from all sides, another orgasm building. Her hole greedily clutched to him, urging him deeper. 

The familiar slap of flesh on flesh echoed throughout the cabin, and each time he wanted a switch in position, she made him beg her for it. Eventually, the woman collapsed on the bed, spent. Giving a content moan, her breathing soon evened out, a sign of rest. 

The pirate captain, both emotionally and physically drained, observed her for a short time. The way he looked at her was obsessive, wild — like a hunter watching a tiger in a cage. When he had calmed his thoughts, he laid down beside her and allowed sleep to consume him. 

His partner's eyes flickered open, cautiously. She sat up in bed, careful not to disturb him. The door to the bedroom stood open.  

Chapter Text

Mallow sat in the brig, unable to sleep due to anxiety of the verdict coming in the morning. Her face hurt. Her head hurt. The only comfort she could find was leaning her head back against the cool, smooth wood of the ship wall. 

There was a clinking of keys, and the cell door creaked open. She was shocked to see Pere standing there. The redhead looked drained, defeated. The wound in her leg was openly oozing blood.  “I have a proposition that will benefit us both.” Went to explain her presence there. 

The brunette sat up straighter, still bitter from the previous events. By the seas, this was the last ally she wanted. That being said, she sorely needed someone and her prior opponent did have the power to ease whatever sentence she was given. Mallow shifted, wincing as the raising of her brows aggravated the wounds on her face. “What could I possibly do for you?”

“How does the crew get to shore when the lifeboat is on supply runs?” The other woman wasted no time cutting to the point. 

The brunette considered this. What did she have to lose? This was a private conversation between two troubled women. No point in playing it close to the chest. Besides, Mallow had been thinking and she couldn’t remember why she was so motivated to cause trouble for others. Maybe she didn’t like herself as much as she pretended to. 

“They walk along the bottom of the reef. Alvida has a box of breather strips under the side railing for if anyone gets overboarded.” Much like the snails that were used to communicate, breather strips granted their wearers special abilities. You would place the strip across your nose, and your body would adapt to process the air from water. 

The redhead nodded. “And how far from land are we?” 

The female pirate pondered this, making some quick calculations in her head. “A day's walk. Maybe two. Do you need something from port?” 

“No. I need off this ship. I get to land; you get me out of your hair.” Mallow reacted to this in transparent surprise, attempting to haul herself to standing. 

“…are you and Captain Buggy running away together? What about the grand line? One piece?” That had been the entire purpose of the alliance, and the goal of everyone on board. 

Pere shook her head. “It was never about the gold for me. I’m sure Buggy will keep looking though — because I’m going alone.”

Mallow’s confusion deepened; her concern grew. “You nearly killed me over the guy. You’re really going to leave him to do whatever with whoever?”

“It bothers me.” The scribes admitted. “But I won’t have to see it.”

“They’ll come after you. Captain Buggy for sure…and Alvida too, on principle.” Actual worry laced the brunette’s voice, showing an empathy that was unusual for her. 

“Not if they’re convinced I’m dead.”

The pieces clicked together in Mallow’s mind, understanding what was happening here. The confrontation had let loose the demons of doubt within the other’s mind and now she was making a break for it. Something sinister was going on behind closed doors, something she may come to understand if she pursued the man in question. 

“Okay.” The lady pirate got to her feet, dizzy, though able to walk well enough.  

The same could not be said for Pere. As they turned to make their way from the brig, the redhead had a noticeable limp. The tissue there was over-stressed and there was no end in sight to the exertion if she intended to walk to shore. Maybe she’d lay down and rest below the sea once she could breathe in water, that was plausible. 

With injuries limited only to superficial head wounds, guilt started to gnaw at Mallow. The brunette slipped an arm around the other woman’s waist. “You won’t make it if you don’t go easy on that leg. Breather or not, you don’t want to be out at sea openly bleeding.” 

First order of business — treat the wound again.

Second order of business — stage the scene.

Third order of business — cover the tracks. 

“I got the keys across from document storage. If you put them back there, no one should know you were involved.” Pere was explaining. “Those brig doors lock when pulled closed.”

Mallow pushed the remains of the railing to they’d busted out overboard, watching it tumble down the windowless section of the side of the ship. The sea consumed the wood easily. The splintered portion was sharp and foreboding. 

Crouching down at the redhead’s feet, Mallow ripped a strip of fabric off her dress, wedging it into the tattered edges of the damage. “For the drama, I guess.” She explained. 

Taking a backseat to the manual labor, the scribe was sitting on the secluded section of the deck. “Is that your primary motivation in life?” She joked. 

The pirate shot back a wry grin. 

“So…” Pere began hesitantly. “Guess you’ll keep trying for Bu— the clown, huh?” 

The brunette paused, really musing over it. “Nah. Turns out, sea isn’t always bluer on the other side. I’m trusting your judgment on this one.” 

“Girl, I make bad decisions. Don’t do anything because of me.” The other woman shot back. “Plus, I just nearly smashed your head in. Maybe take a rest from thinking at all.” 

Mallow shrugged. “Yeah, but it was kind of hot.” 

“…excuse me?” She can’t have heard that right. 

“I don’t know. I just. I think maybe all this time I’ve been chasing other women’s men, I think I’ve just been trying to get a rise out of the women.” The brunette was beautiful, stunning, speaking blatantly of her motivations without hesitation. 

The redhead busied herself tying the ends of her dress around her legs, fixing it into a makeshift jumpsuit to prevent the fabric from billowing as she moved underwater. “So… you like girls then?”

“I like you.” 

The women look at each other for a time, and then burst into hysterical laughter. It dies down after a time, trailing off into the stillness of the night. 

Pere affixes a breather strip to her nose, pulling herself up next to the gap in the raising. Giving a faux salute, she offered the parting words: “Give ‘em all hell, Mallow.” Then she stepped off the side of the ship, tumbling down to plunge into the lukewarm water below. 

Chapter Text

Day 14 On Land 

Pere approached the door, the small amount of belongings she’d managed to accumulate over the way slung over her shoulder. 

She knocked. There was movement inside, and she glimpsed someone peering through the upper window curtain. Footsteps coming down stairs. The door opened. 

“Hi mom. Hi dad.” 

Day 16 On Land 

The redhead sighed, sitting down tiredly at a cafe in town. She’d been out and about for ages handing out applications to anywhere that made sense. 

“Pereira?” Came a familiar voice, her memory of it watered down, muffled. 

She turned. A pang of anxiety in her chest. He was older, broader, but it was Anthony. 

“I didn’t know you were home.” The journeyman miller rubbed the back of his neck, also clearly nervous. 

Pere shrugged. “Yeah. Started getting seasick a lot so,” She fibbed, “decided to throw in the towel. Classic land lover now.” 

“Oh, man.” He didn’t seem sad to hear that.  “Well, you look…stunning. I don’t think I remember you ever wearing a dress.” 

“Oh.” The redhead glanced down at her bodice. The high neckline of her attire was very modest. The full bustle skirt hide the details of her figure. “Well. New habits I guess. A lot happened out there.” 

“I’ll bet!” Anthony exclaimed. “Chasing after pirates, I can’t imagine.” You don’t know the half of it . “Hey, I hope I’m not overstepping but…I’d love to hear more over dinner.” 

After all this time? Or after what happened initially? Nothing had changed, had it? Oh, right. She had changed. She was meeker, more modest. Characteristics that the miller had always held in the highest regard. The sea had made her into a good, obedient girl who didn’t want any trouble. That’s what she told herself five times fast in the mirror each morning. 

She was a good, obedient girl, who followed her parent’s wishes and saved anything dangerous for the men. No more risk. No more journeys. No more midnight swims. 

“Sure.” 

Day 93 On Land 

Anthony spoke to Pere over a candlelit dinner. “I feel really bad about what I said to you.” He admitted, sincerely. “Back then.”

She pulled her gaze from her mashed peas, off guard. “Oh…it’s fine. I mean, that was a long time ago.” The redhead waved the notion away. 

“Yes, but,” the man said earnestly. “ We wasted all this time. I should have tried harder, to make it work.” 

Something sunk in her gut “Really, it’s okay.” Pere offered him a polite smile. 

“I just,” the man adjusted his tie, clearing his throat. “You’ve grown into such a fine woman. You just needed time to mature, and I didn’t give that to you.” Apologetic. “Even young girls can be prone to certain… proclivities .” Perversions. “It’s normal for them to be curious. And you’ve clearly grown out of it.”

“Thanks.” Why did that feel more insulting than flattering? “That’s kind of you to say.” She put her fork down, performatively giving him her full attention. 

“I’m completely énamoured with you, Pere.” Anthony professed. “I’d like you to give me another chance. Be my wife.” 

“Oh.”

Was there any reason to say no? Her parents loved him. He dressed well, spoke well. He paid for all their meals, guided all their walks, and never raised his voice to her. Anthony did everything a man was supposed to do. The journeyman got her gifts on a weekly basis even. 

The week before, for example, he’d brought her a lovely ruby necklace set in white silver. Looking down from above, the colors faded together, appearing as long red and white stripes. 

She hated it. 

“Alright.” 

Day 165 On Land  

Pere pulled on the zipper at the front of her jumpsuit, stowing it away in her locker. The straps on the side of her skirt held her bustle to fit the pant legs, and she released the straps and allowed the skirt to fall shapeless back to her ankles. 

“Hey Pereira.” Her coworker, Argent, a woman older than her, approached. “All of the ladies are thinking about going out dancing tonight, would you like to join us?”

“Oh,” Pere shook her head. “I don’t know… a lot of excitement for me. Kind of a homebody these days. Don’t like me anything too eventful.” 

A few of the other factory workers let out a collective chuckle. Marisol, a blonde, round woman laughed the loudest. “Haha. Says the retired sea fairer. Well, let us know if you change your mind, would love to have you.”

The redhead smiled painstakingly. “You guys are so sweet.” 

Everyone else left on time that day, but not Pere. She toiled into the late hours of the night— doing tune ups that weren’t due and cleaning more bottles than they could hope to use in a month. 

And when she finally arrived home, she cracked the bedroom door to check for Anthony’s rhythmic breathing. After she heard it, she went and sat in front of the fire. And she cried. And cried. And cried. 

Day 182 On Land 

Anthony shoved his way through the crowd, shouting, “Pereira! Pereira, oh my god, Pereira!” He found her seated off to the side of the rescue worker’s pop up, coated in ash. 

“My wife, my poor wife.” The miller cried, drawing her into an embrace. “Oh, thank the lord you’re alright.” 

The factory was still burning behind them, the glass and chemicals within fueling the flames. 

Her husband pulled back from her, inspecting her for injuries. The light of the flames bounced chaotically across his face, as though the fire may take him any moment. 

Like in a dream. 

Day 200 On Land 

The journeyman came through the door, fanning his jacket to hang on a nearby rod. “Hello, my love. How was work?”

“Huh?” Pere had been staring off into the distance again, silently. “Oh. Good, good. The left wing finally opened back up. They got all the damaged equipment out of there.”

“That’s wonderful.” He kissed her on the side of the forehead. And she felt…fine.

“Oh, Tito.” That was what everyone called him. She’d never know that years before. “Just letting you know that they want me to come in tomorrow to help out a little bit so don’t worry about getting home too early.” 

“Oh?” Anthony poured some tea into a cup. “Actually, that works out. I was going to tell you there’s a big meeting tomorrow.  Some out-of-town merchants, I guess. They’re hoping to strike a deal for some bulk goods. They got the berry, and they want to stock up for a long journey.” He sat down across from her. 

“Oh, that’s exciting.” Pere offered politely. “I hope that goes well.”

“Thanks darling,” he smiled back at her. “I’ll let you know how it works out.”

Chapter Text

The ever lovely SUN.4RTS has been so kind to create this stellar AU fan art — AU because that box would be shipped first class to the bottom of the ocean if he had that audacity. 

https://flic.kr/p/2p3oTzg

 

so much love for this. 

Chapter Text

Day 1 Since the Incident 

Buggy’s body felt heavy, the claws of sleep threatening to drag him back under. The cabin felt cold, quiet. A blanket was tucked carefully around him, but it did little to offset the chill from his bare body. “Baby?” He groaned as he forced his eyes open. “Y’a writing?” 

No reply. 

Awareness came to him quickly. The pirate shot up in bed, surveying the room. The shutters blocked the sunlight from coming in; soft brightness threatened the edges of the barriers. Darkness there, and nothing more. 

“Ugh…” that little shit. She was still playing with him. Thrilling, but vexing all the same. 

The Captain set up on the side of the bed, stretching then rising. Methodically, he dressed and applied his cream paint. Time to play hide and seek. 

The office was empty. The same could be said of the storage space. The clown wrinkled his brow, perplexed. 

He threw open the main doors to his quarters. Crew members milled about, strolling up and down the halls. 

“Howdy Cap,” called out the lion pelted man. “How’s the morning? How’s Miss Pere today?”

Buggy shrugged, “still in a mood, I think. Wandering the ship.”

“Really?” The other man approached, “I’ve been up for hours and haven’t seen her.” 

Rage flashed through the clown’s eyes at the presumption; he took a breath, forcing calm. “Don’t you have something better to do than be contrary?”

The longest running lion man to date smiled wryly. Captain was in one of his moods. “I was actually coming to get you. We found damage to a section of the railing. Captain Alvida’s up there trying to figure out what did it.”

Buggy’s main character syndrome ran deep: immediately, he believed this information was about him. To mess with him, no doubt. “Show me.”

Day 1.1 Since the Incident

“Could have been a sea beast. Took a bite right out of it.” Alvida was saying. 

“Nah: it’s busted outwards. Some did this purposely.” Buggy disagreed.

Bystanders looked nervously at each other — the gap in the railing was about the width of a person. Jury seemed to say that someone had been over boarded there. 

There was something both captains were refusing to acknowledge here. After a moment of contemplation, Alvida fiddled with the piece of torn fabric in her hand, folding it up and handing it to Buggy. 

The clown tucked it away. 

The female captain turned to a group of her men, speaking softly. “Search the ship for Ms. Pereira. We have some questions for her.”

Day 4 Since the Incident 

One of Alvida’s crewmen had his shoulders rounded, hands wringing together as Buggy screamed at him. No one could tell you what the argument entailed, but it was the sixth altercation the clown had started that day. 

Mallow, wounds nearly healed, put her body weight into scrubbing the bottom of a bucket out. 

Alarmed, watching the confrontation on the other side of the deck escalate, another of Alvida’s crew turned to Mallow. “Still no news on Pereira?”

The brunette tossed her scrub brush down, signing. “I keep telling you Donovan, I don’t know what happened to her. And I don’t think they would tell me if they found out. I was in the brig that entire night.”

“I just.” Donovan eyed her skeptically. “You completely gave up on the clown the exact same time she vanished.” 

“She didn’t vanish, Donovan. People don’t vanish off a ship.” The beautiful woman snapped at him in irritation. “She fell overboard in choppy waters. She’s dead. So, yeah, I don’t feel comfortable dishonoring the memory. She was a pirate, like us.” 

Day 25 Since the Incident 

“We can’t keep wasting manpower like this.” The Latina explained, tone cautious and even. 

Buggy flung all the paperwork from the desk to the ground, tantruming. “Why not?!?”

Alvida ignored the fit. “Because we’ve searched every port nearby. Even if your theory is right that Ms. Pereira left of her own violation, she’s nowhere now. She didn’t make it to shore.” 

“Yes she did!” The clown shouted, “she’s doing this exclusively to punish me for not doing more sooner. We find her, everything’s gonna be fine.”

“Everything’s fine already.” The woman replied cooly. “I understand you were emotionally invested in the girl, but this is a lesson on why you shouldn’t have been. You’re letting her distract you from the goal.” 

Buggy kicked over a stack of books. “What goal? We haven’t seen that stretchy little brat in weeks. We’re no closer to getting that map!” 

“I have a lead on another map.” Alvida claimed. 

“Oh?” This was finally enough to distract the clown from his agressions. 

Day 60 Since the Incident 

The south port was bustling with life, merchants bartering their wares in the streets. The two captains, and a select few delegates, spoke animated with those pushing gadgets and bottled goods. 

Berry was exchanged under tables, and the necessary aids were obtained. 

“Relax. We’ll get a few rooms at the inn and we’ll start out in the morning.” Alvida instructed. “I need something fresh to drink. 

Buggy and his men nodded in agreement. 

This found them, some hours later, hooting and hollering at the most popular tavern in town. One pirate threw his mug across the bar, the slender bartender catching it and redirecting it to the sink with flare. 

The woman was tall, charismatic, and kept trying to make conversation with the clown captain, who spent a lot of his days still openly pouting. “Loving the color, handsome. It’s so bold of men to paint their faces.”

Disinterested, Buggy looked at her over the whiskey he was tending. “Yeah? How bold?” A feeble attempt at distracting himself. 

“At least half as bold as I’d like you to be.” 

Day 60.5 Since the Incident

The petite blonde, Ava, as she’d introduced herself, made a big show of groaning and moaning. She was seated in Buggy’s lap, grinding against him. 

The Captain indulged her lacklusterly. He allowed her to furiously attack his lips with hers, though he had no bodily reaction to it. 

He willed his cock to pay attention to the matter at hand. 

But it wouldn’t. The flesh sat lifeless and bored within his trousers, not even perking up as the bartender ground down hard against him. 

The pirate let out a long huff, then manually shoved her off of him. “Sorry. It just ain’t doing it for me, babe.” 

Day 130 Since the Incident 

Half a dozen fights and plots later, the Alvida/Buggy crew was growing closer to establishing a perfect route to search for the last few pieces that would lead them to one piece. 

Something had changed, in the male captain. He was more professional, more blunt. Oftentimes he would throw himself into his work with such vigor that his crew wouldn’t see him for days. His hair had grown longer, now sitting in a ponytail at the base of his neck. 

“This document suggests we’ll run out of food and water half way into open water. Is this the best offer we’ve received?” The clown sat behind a desk, working through a stack of quotes. 

“The amount of goods we’re looking for is more than these vendors can accommodate.” One of his sword throwers explained.

“Any ideas on how to offset the burden?” Buggy inquired. 

“Well.” The other man mulled it over. “Anything further inland is going to have less stress on their stores.” 

“Then we go inland.” 

Day 189 Since the Incident 

A businessman clad in a full suit sat across the table from the Latina, scratching his head. “Well, our town could certainly use the berry. We just had some pretty severe damage to our machinery.” 

“And how far out do you stay?” Alvida leveled. 

“About a week, if we leave today.” He clarified. “But I can’t guarantee you the millers will agree to it. They’re all journeymen. They’ll have to get approval.” 

The Latina offered a controlled smile. “You’ll find me to be very persuasive.” 

Day 199 Since the Incident 

The outreach band of pirates — though they weren’t calling themselves pirates — strolled into town just ten in number. Alvida had selected a scribe, a doctor, two fighters, and two laborers. Buggy had brought two consultants along. 

The town was beautiful, green and lush. They didn’t receive much tourism because without directions, the thick tree lines that stretched the length of the property concealed them from view. 

No one on the visiting party had ever been in the area prior to this trip. 

They set up shop at the local inn, all expenses paid due to the magnitude of the deal they were attempting to seal. 

After settling in and having a meal, there was a knock at the door. 

The scribe answered. “Yes?” 

“I heard you folks were looking for a guild designate for the millers?” 

“Oh, yes.” The undercover pirate shuffled back from the door. “Please, come in. Who do I have the pleasure…?” 

“Tito.” 

Chapter Text

Knowing they would both be occupied with work the coming day, Anthony suggested that they take some time to reconnect prior. Pere didn’t feel particularly connected to begin with, so it did sound like a good idea to her.  

Her husband made a point to check all the boxes. In a silent exchange for her keeping her manners at all times, Anthony would shower her in gifts and outings. In fact, he made enough money that Pere realistically did need to work. She chose to. It kept her mind occupied. Without something to do, she would simply sit in the house staring at the walls. 

The redhead got dressed, hearing Anthony humming a cheerful tune in the other room. The bodice of her dress was connected to yet another high collar, concealing all skin from the neck down. It was lilac, lovely. The fabric flared out prior to reaching the waist, several layers of skirt hanging loosely around her legs. She layered stockings underneath and put on some low heels. 

“I’m ready.” She called, walking out into the main room. Anthony stood there, dressed in his standard neutral colors. He had on a waistcoat and a suit jacket. It was cooler out that day. 

“My lady.” The journeyman offered her his arm, and she placed delicate fingers inside his elbow. “You look very beautiful today. And every day.” 

Even if she had the notion to pick a fight over this or that, the miller never gave her the chance. His words were always extremely polite. Thoughtful. Always meeting the minimum requirements of chivalry, like he thought he may be tested on it at a moment’s notice. 

They walked out the front door, making their way down the street to where they’d loaned out a carriage for that morning. Everything was so colorful. Everyone was so happy here. It was beautiful. 

Her husband helped her up into the vehicle, the horses pawing at the ground. The sun shone on their faces as they made their way around. Anthony had been keeping their destination a secret, saying that it had some of the most interesting fruits around and even a story or two. 

Some time later, they pulled into an orchard Pere had never seen before. Their town was full of grain, fruit, and liquor. The latter of the goods they didn’t tend to consume, but exported for building materials and foreign goods. 

Halfway through the ride, the redhead had tuned out, not listening to what her husband was going on about. “Mm-mm.” She intoned. 

“—be careful, it might be a little scary. Don’t be afraid to hold onto me.” Scary ? What was he saying? 

Tito was putting on airs, steeling himself to tell one of his stories that he found grandiose, but often wasn’t. “Now, as we head on over, keep in mind that I got special permission to come out this way.” 

“Oh? What’s out there?” Pere indulged him. 

Her husband cleared his throat. “Well, legend has it that some fruit cannot be eaten, but that you cannot prevent it growing.” 

Here we go. 

The horses took them around a steep bend, opening their view up to a secluded group of trees. Odd shapes of fruit hung down, but Pere couldn’t make them out from the distance. 

“They say this fruit, though fascinating to look at, decays the body from within. Ties them to the land forevermore.” He went on. Why did that sound familiar? 

The carriage continued its advance. “In fact, they are rumored to give some magical powers.” Anthony grinned, “what do you think, my love? Should we take the weekend off and risk it?” He laughed that laugh he always did when he said something he found absolutely outlandish. 

Pere wasn’t listening. 

Rows and rows of fruit, untouched, hung high above their heads. Every shape and size you could imagine was readily obtainable. They were frozen in time, ignored by the townspeople, and kept secret by accident alone. 

They were devil fruit. 

Their town was sitting on a gold mine. 

Chapter Text

Of the two captains, Alvida was spending the most time in negotiations for supplies. It was simply far easier for the Latina to pass herself off as a merchant than it was for Buggy, who had constant devil fruit side effects openly apparent. 

Luck for them, the townspeople were painfully polite. It was also eerie, in fact. These people, who had never worried about pirates or tyrants, smiled and waved to them when they passed them in the street. 

Alvida wore tailored trousers and a fitted shirt, but she left her hat and coat stowed away. All her weapons were concealed. She wore her hair in a messy bun piled atop her head. 

Buggy wasn’t able to be as subtle, but he decided against the clown paint and classic colors. He still had a smokier look than the average man. The pirate's long lashes and stunning eyes had him standing out amongst the crowd. His attire had changed in color, naught else. The vest he wore now was brown leather, layered over a dark fitted top. His pants were black, worn over his boots. 

The locals often commented on his shoulder length blue hair, which he had started to grow in an attempt to look more composed. A red ribbon tied the vibrant locks back from his face. 

“Bradley,” Alvida was speaking to Buggy, but names like theirs would sell them out. “This is the gentleman who came by the other evening. He’s brokering the deal. Tito, this is my second in command.”

Tito, the blandest man Buggy had ever seen in his days, gladly stuck out his hand. “It’s my pleasure, Bradley. I’m so happy to be working with you.” 

Indulging the handshake, Buggy covertly clenched his fingers, disgusted for some reason. The merchant was too composed. It seemed fake. “Right. Are all the details coming together?” 

“Yes, yes.” Tito assured. “I just wanted to touch base to make sure we get everything in the right style. People around here like to know who we’re working with.” 

The male captain was about to say something rude, then Alvida cut in. “Oh course. Us as well. We’re family oriented people.” 

“Ah. Me as well.” The miller seemed appreciative. 

“Do you have kids, Tito?” Alvida asked politely. 

“Oh, no. Just my lovely wife.” Tito smiled dreamily. “Wonderful woman. She was unfortunately at the factory when the fires broke out. The doctors aren’t sure she can conceive now.” 

The journeyman was being careful about the information he shared, slightly intimidated by Alvida’s strong presence. The details he volunteered seemed to be to the effect of saying look, I know women. I know a woman, at least.  

“Oh,” the Latina tutted. “Poor thing.” 

“It’s not a deal breaker for me.” The common man assured. “She’s so meek, and modest, my wife. Really, I wish she’d speak her mind more.” No, he didn’t. “I’ll have to invite her to the gathering, for when we close this deal. Much to celebrate.” 

Neither one of the pirates cared literally at all about that — the celebration, a random unhappy woman, or this man’s satisfaction. 

Buggy breathed out heavily. “Yeah. It’ll be just…great. So, we sign…here?” 

Tito laughed. “Hold your horses, cowboy! We have to sign before a notary! I’ll make it worth your while, we’ll go for drinks after.” 

Chapter Text

The springs of the bed creaked awkwardly beneath the couple. Anthony was struggling to maintain pace, on top of Pere in an uncreative position. He had his face to one side of her neck, as she had her arms looped around his shoulders, holding him close. 

“Mm.” She intoned, completely neutral expression not visible to her husband. 

Anthony smiled. “Does that feel good?” He asked her. 

“Mm-hm.” She patronized, though she kept the disappointment out of her voice. 

Haggard grunting escaped the journeyman as he finished inside her, collapsing ontop of her panting. She rubbed a hand along his back. 

The man sighed, rolling over to lay beside her in satisfaction. “You know,” he began. “I think it’s normal for women not to be able to finish the way men do. I think it’s kind of odd, when they do, don’t you? No point in it, they don’t have any seed or anything.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” The woman nodded. “I think I’ve heard that somewhere.”

“I think some women can, of course. It’s not impossible. But it’s a little perverse in my opinion.”

“Completely. I agree with you.” 

Chapter Text

On the heels of the large contract they signed, the undercover pirates continued to make an effort to socialize with the town's delegates. 

They had been going out for drinks or events nearly every night as a group. Anthony had been putting pressure on his wife to attend them all. She hasn’t made it to one yet. 

Pere rushed out of her workplace, smoothing her skirt down and throwing her hair up in a ponytail. She was sweating heavily, and felt disgusting, but Anthony had pleaded with her to make it to the gathering that night. “Come on, my love. This is really important to me.” He’d voiced. 

The journeyman seemed convinced that if they could put forth the illusion of a happy little family, they’d be able to secure longer term relations with the out of towners. 

Guilt brushed the corners of her psyche. There wasn’t any love in their marriage, but she still should be putting in some effort. Her emotional issues weren’t  Anthony’s fault. Well, not entirely. 

The tavern wasn’t far from the factory, and she picked up her pace to a trot. She was late, certainly. The only fact easing her mind was that these gatherings tended to last late into the evening. This way she could arrive well into the socialization and skip the niceties. 

That had been the plan, anyways. Her pointed boots made soft clicks along the pavement as she went, soon drowned out by the roar of chatter from the festivities. Once Tito started drinking, he wouldn’t even notice she was late. Not that he’d yell at her or anything, he’d just express concern in a disturbingly parental way. 

The redhead stopped just around the corner. She calmed her breathing from running, composing herself. Her heart was beating fast regardless. Maybe she had social anxiety or something now. Hysteria, maybe. The constant bouts of crying and numbness would probably warrant that diagnosis. Which is why she simply wouldn’t say anything. 

Straightening up, she rounded the corner. 

And her heart stopped. 

Three men were standing outside the tavern, smoking cigars. They alternated blowing smoke rings above their heads. They laughed, spoke, and were generally having a good time. 

And Buggy was at the center of them. 

His hair was longer, and he wasn’t wearing his telltale paint. The pirate was just as glorious as she remembered. The stunning contrast of his eyes against his tanned skin made her heart skip a beat. 

Oh my god. No no no no no. This couldn’t have happened. There was no way. They weren’t even a sea bordering community. Why the fuck was he here?? 

The clown smiled with all his teeth in response to something his crewmate said. That damned smile awoke something distant, something long dead inside her. The redhead pressed a concerned hand to her lower belly. Shit shit shit. 

In that moment, it occurred to her that if he saw her, she very well may be killed. 

Pere spun back around the bend, panting. Without a backwards glance, she set off running, putting as much distance between them as she could. She arrived home a wreck, sweat drenching her attire. 

All she needed was to lock herself inside for a few days. Let this nightmare pass by.  

Chapter Text

The redhead turned over in bed again, huffing a frustrated sigh. Sleep escaped her. There was no reason to worry, she knew that. 

If that crew was posing as merchants, their presence there had nothing to do with her. She just had to lay low. Maybe fib a little. She could tell Anthony that she hadn’t been able to find the place in the dark and that she was feeling sick now. 

That would buy her a week or so. Anthony would take whatever she said at face value. 

If only she could get some damn sleep. 

Pere sat up in bed, throwing a pillow angrily across the room. That fucking clown. She had finally come to term with her boring, unfulfilling little life. She had finally convinced herself it was her only option. Almost a year later, she hadn’t stood a chance at finding one particular pirate ship even if she had tried. 

But noooo. Here he was, in town. Looking more fuckable than ever. Her body was on fire. She shifted her hips, ignoring it. The silky fabric of her full length nightgown did nothing to ease the heat burning through her frame. 

Orgasms were a distant memory. Her husband turned her off so consistently that she’d convinced him that the stress of the sea had made her chronically dried out. Sex hurt sometimes, but not in the way she liked it to hurt. Anthony was a one trick pony, who would be repulsed if she asked him for anything that would aid her own pleasure. 

In fact, the journeyman’s proximity had convinced her that she had been cured of her never ending horniness. Well, that was a bust. 

The sexual frustration was becoming unbearable. And she’d only seen him. What would it be like to smell the scent of his salt water skin? To feel his hands on her? 

Fuck. Girl, stop thinking about it. 

Creeping out of bed, keeping a careful ear out for the sound of the door opening, she knelt down by the closest. Fiddling with a floorboard, she pulled it away to reveal the empty compartment underneath. 

When Anthony and her had gotten married, one of the saucier village women had gifted her a wooden box with some creative…trinkets inside. Pere had hidden them away from her husband nearly immediately, knowing double penetration, which these were designed for, was the furthest thing from interested. To her credit, she’d never even considered using them. They were just…insurance. In case the cold bed became too much some night. 

Kicking the covers back as she did so, the redhead climbed back up on the bed, flopping back against the pillows. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to force the images of the Captain out of her, she allowed herself to focus on the fresh visage she had of him. 

One hand clipped open the wooden case, withdrawing the artificial member. She left it on the covers, just within arms reach. She pressed her thighs together tightly, imagining brutal kisses and wandering hands. 

Briefly, she entertained the fantasy of an extended punishment for her insubordination— sentenced to have her face fucked on demand fir ten long ears, for example. The sea beast in the room was that those hands likely had no affection left in them for her. Kink based or not. 

The woman tortured her clit with careful fingers, the neglected flesh aching with need. Those fingers found themselves inside her, and she pretended they were longer, stronger. 

It wasn’t enough. 

Her fingers weren’t thick enough to give her the stretch she craved, and the angle was all wrong. 

Desperately, Pere took hold of the toy, inserting it into her slick channel. She sat up, fully impaling herself on the faux phallus. Her motions grew more frantic, faster and harder. It was all for naught. She was nowhere near orgasm. 

Letting out an impulsive scream, she flung the toy with all her strength across the room, hitting the mirror with force. It shattered, showering glass to the ground. 

“…fuck.”

Chapter Text

Alvida punched to the air, watching her crew members absolutely destroy these common men in game after game of darts. 

Disappointed, Tito made his way back to the table to collapse into the seat next to Buggy. The journeyman was rapidly headed into being black out trunk. The pirate was barely tipsy.  

“You know,” Anthony slurred. “My wife used to work on a ship like yours.” 

Buggy restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “Did she now?” Secretary for the marines, perhaps? The clown couldn’t imagine someone as reserved as the journeyman had described fairing well at sea. 

“Yes. I dunno why she was out there, man. She should’ve just stayed here. But I wasn’t real good to her as a boy.” The miller had his head in hands, dizzy. The alcohol had removed his filter. “Can I ask you something?” 

Buggy raised a brow. That was new. “Shoot.” 

“Do you think women are meant to enjoy sex? Like, have they ever…you know…with you??” It was an uncharacteristic question to ask, and the clown turned into the conversation. 

“Have they…” Buggy began, “—cum?” 

“Shhh! Sh!” The miller waved his hands. “Not so loud!” 

Wow. This man was a blatant sad sack. “Yeah, pretty much every time.” 

Anthony’s face crumpled, doubtful. “But that’s like, just women outside of marriage right?? Like, the ones into wild stuff?” 

“Not…” the clown began, “all of them outside marriage.” He wouldn’t bother mentioning that he had no role in any of those marriages, but he found married women were the ones hurting the most for excitement. By the seas, he felt bad for this man’s wife. Had he not been incognito, he would have blatantly laughed him out of the establishment. 

The miller further deflated. “I give her everything, man. I just can’t get it out of my head.” 

“What’s in your head?” Buggy dissected, something akin to malice ghosting over his expression. Suffering buried this deep was always fun to watch. 

“We were apart for a while. Because of something I said.” Tito explained. “A few years.” 

“What did you say?” The other man goaded. 

“I’m not proud of it.” An admittance. “She wanted to do a…trial run before marriage.” 

Buggy’s eyes widened. It was an effort not to laugh. That was his deep, dark secret? That was so boring. “So…you told her no. And?” 

“I think about it all the time. What she might have done out there while she was hunting pirates.” The drunken man agonized. 

The cogs in the clown’s mine momentarily ground to a stop. Wait. “Hey, I never asked. What does Tito stand for?” 

“Huh?” The journeyman clutched his head. “Oh, it’s more of a nickname. My name’s Anthony.”

Laughter forced its way out of Buggy’s throat. Oh, this was too fucking good. He threw his head back and he laughed, and laughed, and laughed. 

Chapter Text

Clearing up all the glass took some time, and Pere took several trips out to the bins to dispose of it. Only the frame of the mirror remained, and she considered it carefully. Could they mount something else in this frame? No point. They’d just buy a new mirror. The woman had hid all the other evidence of her little lapse in judgment. 

She left the frame outside, leaning against the wall. Something skittered past the tree line and she jumped, startled. Ugh. Get it together. Only Anthony knows she’s probably home right now. No reason to be paranoid. 

Had she closed the door? She could have sworn that she had left it open. Her mind was all wrong right now. Pere pulled the door open, revealing the darkness of the empty house. 

Maybe she’d just have a snack and try to sleep again. She’d redressed in her day clothes to take out the garbage. Maybe she couldn’t finish because she felt so out of odds with her body. Her breasts were always strapped down, and her nether regions suffocated for hours under heavy layers all day every day. 

Should she try again? Nah. She’d purge her mind of these impure thoughts in no time. This was a moment of weakness. It didn’t define her. 

Going to the pantry, the redhead felt around on the counter for a candle to light. No point in using fancy gadgets just to grab one thing. 

Her hands found a lantern — which was odd? Since when did they own a lantern? Kind of overkill. She twisted the mechanism at the bottom of the lantern, the light flickering on and illuminating the kitchen. 

Successfully giving her the fright of her life. 

A man sat at her table, legs propped up on the wood. 

Pere screamed, dropping the lantern. 

A disembodied hand caught it, snapping back to the wrist it belonged to. The pirate set it down on the wooden surface, expressed equally filled with mirth and ice. 

“Sit down.” Two simple words. Two words, overflowing with rage. 

“Do you know how long I looked for you?” She didn’t. 

Pere shook her head, shuddering slightly. Embody fear, embody fear. She told herself. He was here to kill her, she was sure. And objectifying him felt like a way to die faster. It wasn’t any business of hers anymore how delectable he happened to look. 

But she could think about it. Secretly. 

“—bet you thought that shit was real real cute too—“ Fuck, he was like a painting. Even ranting, berating her for her actions. His animated words competed with his sinister expressions. A dagger was clearly visible tucked into his belt. 

Her eyes tracked lower, surveying the curve of his ass and thigh. So grabbable. Her cunt throbbed. The tight pants he had on did little to disguise his bountiful member. There was a bulge there, though he wasn’t hard. His scent permanated the general vicinity. His natural musk was masculine and mouthwatering.  

“—and here you are, playing house with some boring fuck—stop looking at me like that or I will fuck you within an inch of your life, husband be damned!” The pirate had made eye contact halfway through his sentence, noticing she was nearly drooling over him. 

Pere wiped her mouth, “…sorry.”

Chapter Text

“Fuck!” Buggy slammed his hand down on the table, rattling it against the floor. “Fuck! What is wrong with you?! I spent almost a year resenting you, thinking you ran because you lost interest!” He shook his head, clenching his jaw. Crystal eyes traveled the length of her, tracking her obvious discomfort. 

“But we can’t even have a conversation without you eye fucking me!” He huffed, struggling with his words. “So, what…” the anger gave way to hurt. “Why’d you leave? You wanted me. A year later, you still want me.” 

Something in her stomach felt sick. Her vocal cords felt tight. It didn’t occur to her even once that her actions may have hurt him. “I wanted you in ways I couldn’t have you.” She murmured, shrinking in on herself. 

“Bullshit. You could have had me in any way, every way, had you only asked.” The clown was shaking, whether in grief or rage, she wasn’t sure. 

Fuck, she may start crying. “It’s not the same. I have a sure thing here.” 

“You said you weren’t meant to be anyone’s wife.” Buggy reminded her bitterly. 

Pere scoffed, laughing. “What business is it of yours? It’s not like you were competing for my hand.” 

“Why not?” 

The woman looked at him, flabbergasted. “What?” 

“Why not me?” The clown was poorly concealing his inner tribulation. “What? I’m good enough to fuck but not to be your husband?”

Was he being serious? She’d known he’d had some insecurities, especially around not being someone’s first choice, but she had no idea they ran that deep. “I don’t…I don’t believe you. You’re just saying shit. You wouldn’t even shut down someone else’s advances. Now you’re saying you would have married me?” 

“I didn’t fucking see it for what was! I fucked up, okay?” He shouted at her, clenching his hands.”You didn’t…you didn’t have to do what you did.” 

“Well.” The redhead swallowed back grief. “It’s too late for all that. I’m…happily married to someone else now.” 

Taking a moment to absorb her bluff, Buggy chuckled maliciously. “That’s not what I hear.” 

Pere furrowed her brow. “Did…did you kill him?” There wasn’t any fear in her voice. It wouldn’t exactly break her heart if Anthony was gone. It’s not like she loved him. But it would sure fuck up her routine. 

“Nah. Nah. Maybe I will, still, but I haven’t yet. Sad sack was drunk off his ass, running his mouth.” His tone there suggested he found Anthony just about as dull and self righteous as she did. 

“Yeah.” The redhead said wryly. “He’ll do that.” 

They sat in silence for a while. 

“So..” the clown began, “…heard he doesn’t make you cum.” 

Pere slammed her hand over her mouth, gasping. “Did he tell you that?!?” 

“Can’t say I’m surprised.” He glowered, eyes ranking over her frame. “He’s got you dressing like a nun.” The pirate reached over to grab the edge of her chair, dragging it so they were knee to knee. 

“Stop it. Don’t touch me.” She protested weakly, tender self control strained. “I’m married.” 

“I don’t really give a shit.” Buggy told her harshly. 

Chapter Text

The pirate gripped her thigh through her many layers, holding onto her. “Let’s play a game.” 

“I recall winning our game already.” The woman’s breathing was labored, her face inches from his. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. 

“It’s a new game. One round. Easy peasy.” The want in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. 

“Oh?” Her defenses were falling one by one. “What…what game is that?” 

“Sudden death —“ the pirate encroached further, “Don’t cum for me, and I’ll leave. You’ll never see me again.” 

Holy shit, he was blatantly offering to take her, no strings attached. One last time — unless she asked him for more. 

“I don’t know…” Pere began. 

Buggy was already slipping a hand between her legs. “Baby, you don’t have a choice.” 

Excuse me? 

“Look at yourself.” Her once lover advised her. 

The redhead took stock of her own body language. At some point, she had thrust her chest out towards him, one hand using the table as balance. Her entire body ached, craving him. 

The pirate’s hand traveled further, looking for the edge of her skirt. “Shit, I can’t even find you in here.” He started pushing layers of fabric back from her knees. Frustration showed on his features as he realized there were more layers underneath. “Are these the lengths you go to to make sure he doesn’t touch you?” The clown hissed, disgusted, imagining it. 

“It’s…modest.” She mumbled. 

“What you got to be modest about?” He snarked. In a quick, angry motion, he took the dagger from his belt. Buggy pulled the fabric out from her skin, slicing the thick bodice fully open, freeing her breasts to his gaze. The ample flesh came spilling forward, bare, nipples visibly erect. “There she is.” 

The clown took her nipple into his mouth, and she almost lost their game right there. Her hips jerked in her seat, pulsing towards him.  

“Careful.” Buggy mocked. “It’s not fun if it’s over too soon.” 

The redhead bit her lip, feeling drunk, high, and dizzy all at once. His hand found its way under her skirts again, tearing at her underclothes. Vaguely, distracted by the sensations, she felt the layers guarding her sex rip. Cool air rushed up to caress her overheated pelvis.

“Mm.” She groaned, helpless. Focus. Focus…what was she meant to be focusing on? Oh, don’t cum. Cum and he wins. Honestly, this challenge felt pretty lose/lose to her. Her desperate need for release, after all this time, had rigged the stakes against her. 

“You don’t have to fight.” The pirate patronized her. “Lose fast and I’ll make you cum as many times as you please. I know how bad you need it, sweetheart.” 

He was the fucking devil himself. Not only had he enticed her into infidelity as it were, he was mocking her husband’s lack of prowess the entire time. 

That first touch, after so long with nothing, was tantalizing and foreboding. She gasped loudly as he sunk his fingers into her, clinging to him. Those familiar appendages pumped in and out of her sex. Her pussy was absolutely weeping, dripping down to his wrist. 

It was like coming back to life after being dead for six months. The woman mewled, shifting her hips in time with his fingering. 

The clown looked conflicted between enjoying the sight of her losing her mind and further his anger towards her with complete sexual torture. 

Why not both? 

Pere clinged to him, eyes rolled back in her head. Her legs were shaking, his fingers working her quickly. Unable to stop herself from spreading her legs further, she gripped the edge of her chair so tightly her knuckles were white. 

He added a third finger, and she was lost. Pere orgasmed, squirting cum across his hand so violently that her inner thighs were soaked. 

Before her inner walls had a chance to relax, Buggy grabbed her tightly by the throat, spinning her around into his lap. Holding her tight against him, he ran his tongue up the back of her ear. She could feel his rock hard member pressing into her backside. 

“You lose.” 

Chapter Text

Buggy threw her on the bed (her “marriage” bed), untying his pants. None of his administrations were anywhere near gentle. 

She was absolutely feral for it. 

Stripping his bottom layers off, the pirate climbed after her into the bed. Taking his knife, he cut away the remainder of her tattered attire. When he was satisfied, he tossed the knife into the discarded pile of clothing. 

He kissed her, tangling his tongue with herself. “Wait—“ she gasped, “what if—what if Anthony comes home?” 

“Then he’ll die.” Buggy growled dismissively. 

“But—“ the pirate had enough of her protests, dragging her roughly into his lap, facing downwards. “What—“ He spanked her, with force, across the ass. “Fuck—!” She cried out. 

Just then, the pirate took note of the wooden box on the nightstand. The shape looked familiar. “And what do we have here?” 

The redhead followed his gaze, blushing furiously when she realized what he had seen. She attempted to grab for it, squirming in his lap. “No,” he warned, spanking her again, this time harder. He grabbed the box as she reacted to the slap: cooing and fisting the blankets as it sent a jolt of pleasure to her sex. 

The clown flipped open the lid, freezing in place. “Well, well, well. Not such a lady now, are we?” He removed the toy from the box, taking stock of the residue of her juices still clinging to the material. 

“I just—“ Pere protested. 

“Were you using this before I got here?” The clown darted his tongue out, tasting her on the silicone. “What were you thinking about?” Half jealous, half turned on. 

“I—“ the redhead covered her face, humiliated. “—you. I was going to the party. I saw you outside the bar.” 

“Wheww—“ Buggy whistled. “Isn’t that interesting? Aren’t you shameless? A married woman, she says.” The mocking was relentless. 

He allowed her to keep her face covered, gripping and massaging her ass with one hand. “You’re different now. All shy. It’s kind of cute. But I bet you still scream the same.”

This was more his style — humiliation sex. “I might have let you off easier, you know, if you’d swallowed your pride and come and sucked my dick like I know you wanted to.” 

The woman whimpered, shifting in his lap, wanting stimulation. The clown obliged, spreading her folds from behind with one hand and wielding the toy with the other. “Now I have to make your pussy nice and sore. Poor, poor Anthony. He doesn’t know how to do that, does he?” 

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, him taking her despite a legal claim to the contrary was one of the hottest things she could imagine. 

Buggy eased the toy into her, allowing her only a moment to adjust before he set a punishing pace for her. Her sex tensed, flexed, and squeezed as she came multiple times in a row, the man drilling the phallus into her g-spot relentlessly. 

He reduced her to a sobbing mess of a woman, unable to protest anything he felt like doing to her. This was a punishment — he would push her accordingly. Using his power of dismemberment, he groaned as she started to ease his own disembodied cock into her pussy alongside the toy. 

Pere was so full, stuffed to her limit and a little beyond that. Her sex was so saturated with fluids that she began dripping cum openly — a thick white fluid that came from deep within. 

Buggy detached his hand for the sake of angling, then started furiously thrusting the toy and his cock into her in unison. Her insides hurt, but she was so turned on she paid it no mind. Another orgasm racked her body. 

“Now,” he palmed her ass again, “I plan to take you permanently, but how to ensure you keep this pretty little pussy hidden from your bland little husband in the meantime…?” 

That made her incredibly nervous. Incredibly nervous, and incredibly excited.

Withdrawing both his cock and the toy, Buggy admired her stretched out hole. “I think we can do better.” 

Half fearful, half thrilled, she watched as he separated his hand and sent it up to the back of her neck. She didn’t see anything else, as the palm pressed into her scalp, forcing her head down into the pillows. 

Her abused sex burned as a much larger object began to press into her — which, after some adjustment, she realized was the end of his wrist. This was a level beyond fisting. The realization pushed her full force into another orgasm. Her body was past what she knew to be her limits. 

She submitted, allowing him to manipulate her body as he saw fit. All of her muscles were clenching around the intrusion, and astonishingly, the stretch began to feel good again. He was gaping her open, with the purpose of making her look freshly fucked to any other man that may see her naked body. 

After he was done, he proceeded to fill the stretched channel to overflowing with his cum. 

Anthony came home, finally sobered, in the early hours of the morning, profusely apologizing to his wife for his tardiness. He didn’t notice that she declined getting to her feet to greet him. 

Buggy was nowhere to be seen. 

Chapter Text

This was…awkward, to say the least. 

The supplies were being packaged for delivery to the nearest port, still some miles away. Once they arrived at the ship, the crew members stationed there would load them. The on land delegates would then set out to join the others.

Surprisingly, Anthony notified Pere that they had received an invitation to dinner with Buggy and Alvida (that’s what she gathered, though he used the names Bradley and Via). Her husband was especially insistent, as in his mind, they had never been formally introduced. 

Little did he know…

Alvida sat across from Buggy; Anthony sat across from Pere. Meaning Pere was seated next to Pere, which made her very nervous. The table clothes concealed everything below their elbows. Right as she’d sat down, Buggy had very intentionally pressed his calf against hers. This gesture served as a reminder that he felt he could touch her whenever, wherever he liked. 

Alvida was fed up, annoyed, but also openly amused. When they arrived, the lady pirate stood, making a big show of shaking Pere’s hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Pereira.  We’ve heard so much about you.” 

“Oh, the pleasure is mine.” The redhead said politely in return. Buggy snorted loudly. 

Pere waited until Anthony’s attention was elsewhere, then glared at the clown. Once they were seated, the state of affairs became much worse. 

The three — Anthony, Alvida, and Buggy — were having a long winded conversation regarding business. Her husband neglected to include Pere at all, his mentality being that she was too reserved to be involved in such talks. 

Uncharastically, the male pirate was heavily involved in the conversation. This was confusing, until he used the animation to scoot closer to the table, effectively concealing both of his hands underneath the surface. 

Oh . Oh no.

First she felt the fingers stroking the inside of her ankle, then they slid higher to her knee, the pressure forcing her to sit with her legs further apart. The woman pushed some greenery around on her plate, steeling herself for what she knew was going to be complete torture. 

As she expected, within minutes, the disembodied hand was stroking her clit rhythmically. The clown knew her body, inside and out, and he was proving that. Two fingers spread her upper folds, while the third massaged her clit. 

“Mm.” A sudden increase in pressure forced a noise from her throat. 

“What was that, honey?” Tito laid his hand over hers. 

“Oh, nothing.” The redhead shook her head. “The food is very good.” 

“Is it? Is it good?” Buggy asked her, grinning with all his teeth. 

Alright. Two could play at that. “Mm-hm. Just delicious.” She licked her lips. The pirate’s smile faltered at the sight of her tongue. “Probably the best I’ve had.” 

The hand started making longer swipes and circles, affecting a larger area. Pere snapped her legs closed, restricting the movements. 

She saw Buggy’s wrist jerk slightly from the phantom pressure. 

“Is…is that right?” The clown was distracted now, eyes on her lips. 

Pere scooped a bite of rice into her mouth, humming contemplatively. She took excessively long on the withdrawal, sucking the sauce off her fork. She nodded. 

Buggy swallowed, directing his attention back to his own food. 

One point to Pere. 

As the meal proceeded, it became a losing battle. She was too close to cumming to act completely normal. Her cheeks were flushed and her pupils dilated. Feeling the heat on her face, she did her best to keep her eyes down. 

As the pleasure finished its course through her body, the redhead stood abruptly to mask it. “I need to use the washroom.” 

“Allow me to show you the way.” Buggy offered politely. Pere resisted rolling her eyes as she accepted the escort. His hand skittered under the table and attached to his arm right before he stood up. When he took her hand, his fingers were damp with her juices. Bastard . 

Both of them were less composed when they returned, ignoring Alvida’s confused gaze over her chicken salad. They took special care to behave unlike two people that had just had rough sex in a coat closet. 

Chapter Text

Pere had her head and torso under a packaging machine when the whole facility shook and rumbled. It was midday at her job and that level of sound pollution was unusual for the region. 

The redhead rolled herself out from under the equipment on her back board, sitting up. The wrench in her hand was coated in grease and there were drops of the substance across her brow where she wiped away sweat. 

“Argent?” She called. “Are we having issues with generators?” 

No response. 

A hollow scream sounded from the upper levels. The smell of smoke filtered down from above. Somewhere in the factory was burning, again. 

Pere made her way to hanger doors, stepping out the lesser access door to see the damage. As soon as she crossed the threshold, a hand went over her mouth, dragging her down into a crouch. 

She was surprised to be faced with the sight of Alvida, the Latina shushing her with a finger to her lips. “Pirates.” The Captain explained. 

The mechanic blinked. “…as opposed to?” 

“Rival pirates.” Alvida humored her. “They’re targeting the center of town. I don’t think they know we have crew here though.” 

Pere processed this. “I know what they’re after. How many are they?” 

“50. Maybe 100. They’re no rookies either. Buggy’s holding them off, but I doubt that will last.” As if on cue, the clown came skidding around the corner, dirty with ash. 

“We lost the scribe. The rest are securing the supplies.” The clown informed them. 

“Abilities?” Pere injected. 

“Excuse me?” The Latina interjected. 

“Do they have supernatural abilities like him?” Gesturing to the male pirate, she continued, “and I’m assuming they’re headed this way?”

Buggy side eyed her. “Nah. Just common punks for hire. And yeah, last I saw.”

“So the two of you are trying to hold off an entire crew of rival pirates?” That seemed a little out of character. Well, Alvida might. Certainly not Buggy. 

The man in question shrugged. “They started it. Got a little cranky when they saw I had powers.” 

Pere frowned. This wasn’t their home turf, but it was hers. She looked up at the factory that had been her safety for nearly a year. “I may have an idea.” 

The two pirates exchanged a look. A moment of silence. “Good enough for me.” Buggy conceded. 

“Follow me.” Punching her code into the combo lock, the redhead led them inside. The employees, mostly women, had dissolved into chaos. Some were rushing to save valuables, while others were searching for their fire buddies to evacuate. 

“Hey!” The mechanic called, at the top of her lungs. The sudden outburst from someone known for being reserved was enough to startle them into attention. “It’s not a factory fire. We’re under attack.” 

“Attack?” Running up with her arms full of their key documents, Argent was frantic. “What does that mean, Pereira?” 

“It means pirates are raiding the town.” Murmurs burst forth from the women, and they huddled closer to Pere, knowing she had experience fighting against the aggressors in question. 

“But why?” A younger woman, Sophie cried. 

“We can brainstorm that later. We need to strike back fast or we don’t have a chance.” The group shuffled again, conversing amongst themselves. 

Argent didn’t need long to think. “What do we need?” 

“Uh. The rifle— oh, this is Bradley and Via, everyone say hi!” The two pirates showed some amusement at that. Alvida tipped them her borrowed sun hat. 

“Hi.” “Hello.” “Charmed.” Even in an emergency situation, the townspeople couldn’t bear not to be polite. 

“Great, now that we know each other, we need the rifle and ammo for Via, and…uh, knives? From the kitchen? Smaller and sharper the better. For Bradley. What do we have that’s flammable?” This was way harder than books made it sound. And much harder than the pirates made it look. Argent scampered away to collect the weapons. 

Sophie raised her hand. “It says on the side of the twist vials not to put pressured gas in them or they’ll explode.” 

“Um.” Pere didn’t understand what that meant. She just tightened the bolts on the machines. “And how long does it take to pressurize the gas?” 

Sophie giggled. “You don’t. It’s in the tank, you can just keep it under pressure and fill the vials. Then just tighten the tops when you want them to blow.” 

“Let’s hear it for the risk management department, Jesus.” The workers were really getting to know each other today. “Alright, let’s get everything together and get to the outdoor rafters.” 

Argent reappeared, the rifle under one arm, ammo in one hand, and a three block of kitchen knives in the other. “Here you are, dears.” 

Alvida took the rifle, loading it from muscle memory. Buggy dismantled the knife block, tucking three dozen knives in various straps across his attire. 

Damn, he looked sexy. She knew he was being mature and obedient at the moment because he was still undercover, but it was kind of doing something for her. 

Omg, Pere, get a grip. 

Buggy finished his work, glancing up to catch her staring. He winked wolfishly. “ Later .” He mouthed. 

Chapter Text

The rafters connected to little railed offshoots that looked over the whole town. The largest of these platforms had been used to repair the roofing after the fire, and they had left it up in case the incident seemed to repeat itself. The source of the burning smell proved to be flaming arrows embedded in a low portion of the wall, but the flames hadn’t gained any traction. 

Down below, the invaders had reached the point puzzle lock and were attempting to break the door down rather than solve it. Perhaps they believed the ripened stores of fruit laid within, or maybe they just didn’t know the way to the orchard. 

A few of the townsmen attempted to slow their progress, via rifles, and were torn apart for their efforts. 

Not ready to make their presence known yet, the factory workers were hauling up crates of pressurized vials as they became available. Once they had enough, they all took one in each hand. Apprehensively, they looked to the leading trio for guidance. 

“Account for their movement.” Alvida coached. “Remember, they max out at 100. I’ve got about…” The Latina took stock of her ammo. “50 shots. We’re aiming for the head, so it’ll only take one good throw to take one out.”

Buggy counted his knives. “I can ruin a solid…30 days today. I’m giving myself the benefit of the doubt.” He was cheesing, the rush of battle putting him in a fun mood. 

Pere nodded along, optimistic. “Throw then duck out of sight. I don’t want to lose any people, but we will if they can breach the factory.” 

Despite that some of them were shaky and uncertain, the group readily agreed to the plan. This was their home. They wouldn’t see it destroyed so easily. 

The redhead peaked over the side. “They’re grouping up, it’s now or never!” She swallowed her doubts, twisting the lids and dropping her makeshift bombs over the side. The ledge concealed her once more before she could see them connect with the two offenders at the door. 

The other women started chucking their explosives over the side, wincing as they heard glass shatter and screaming. Buggy checked the balance of each knife before he threw, managing to imbed 9/10 in an enemy’s eye socket. Alvida rapid fired off shots, aiming for the pirates coming up in the distance. 

Those rushing the factory identified where the fire they were taking was coming from, and many tried to scale the sides of the building. Pere watches for these attempts, rolling bombs over the side into those that had no opportunity to dive out of the way. They could take the hit, or they could fall. 

The redhead barely managed to avoid a flaming arrow, blood rushing from her head as she saw the projectile coming towards her. Alvida swung the rifle the way she used to swing her mace, changing the trajectory of the arrow. 

“Thanks!” Pere gasped, clutching her own chest.

“Might as well do my part!” The Latina crowed. “Something tells me Ill be seeing you around!” 

The numbers of the aggressors were dwindling fast, those that attempted to flee getting gunned down in the process. The platforms they stood on shook and dipped, prompting a few of the women to lose their balance. 

Pere saw the whole thing happen in slow motion. “Argent!” She cried, hopping over the side to one of the secondary platforms to drag the woman back to safety. All was well, until the new platform was struck from below. Wind rushed around her, gravity pulling her towards the ground. 

The mechanic fell around ten feet before her descent came to an abrupt halt. The force of being grabbed by her upper arm nearly dislocated it. Above her, she heard gasps and whispers. 

A disembodied hand suspended her midair. 

Still throwing knives in the other direction, Buggy had thrown his hand to her upon hearing her yelp. The pirates below were momentarily stunned. After that moment, several of them notched arrows and took aim. Wasting no time, the clown recalled his hand, sending Pere flying back over the edge. 

The woman collided harshly with the pirate’s firm body, knocking them both to the ground. She was disoriented, properly stunned.  That had been a near death experience. Holy shit. 

“Now, now sweetheart, try to control yourself.” The words deeply confused her, drawing her attention to the fact that in her scrambling she had grabbed a handful of Buggy’s left pec.

Mortified, she scrambled off the pirate, not missing the way his hand stroked her backside as she got to her feet. He winked at her, hauling himself up and back to the battle. 

Despite what they had witnessed, her friends showed no alarm or animosity towards the clown. He had saved her, and that was good enough for him. 

“Only archers left now,” the female captain informed them after some time more. “3…no, 4.” She fired off three shots in rapid succession. “1.” 

“I got him.” Buggy hopped up on the side of the wall, tossing a knife with incredible precision. The blade sliced the string of their bow in half, stabbing through their mouth and then spinal chord. They dropped lifeless to the ground. “Clean up on aisle loser!” The clown exclaimed triumphantly. 

They’d done it. They’d won. The majority of the women collapsed to the ground, taking the opportunity to decompress. Alvida headed down the stairs almost immediately, no doubt planning to scout the area for any stragglers. 

Wayward, Pere set to follow her. She held the door open for Buggy, who filtered through behind her. The barrier swung shut behind them, and he grabbed her around the waist. He spun her around, pressing her firmly to the door, stealing a kiss. The redhead moaned in response, immediately lost. 

She was addicted, and this time, she was doing nothing to curb the cravings. 

Chapter Text

The townspeople were shaking, huddling together in their respective family units. Much of the residential area has been destroyed, though few had been killed. 

Pere stood amongst the rubble, surveying the damage. Buggy walked up beside her. “Weird day. I didn’t recognize the lot of em. Who tries to steal grain, honestly?”

The woman didn’t comment on it, knowing what rumors had drawn the intruders to their gates. “Hey.” She said softly. “I miss you.” 

Crystal eyes blinked at her, bewildered. He offered her a toothy smile. “Miss me?” The tone was teasing. “Is that so? What? You want to take a momento for the road?”

His dick. He was talking about his dick. 

“It’s okay. Another time, for sure. I have something I need to do.” He nodded, leaning a little closer to her than was strictly platonic. 

“Want some company?” Buggy crossed his arms over his chest, the picture of the calm after the storm. His hair was deliciously rumpled and his cheeks were flushed from exertion. 

“Tomorrow?” She bartered. It felt nice, like two people just existing in the same space. In a different world, she imagined him stealing a kiss, for all to see. Those short dozen inches a way felt like entire worlds. 

“Sure.” He observed her carefully. This pleasant and passive ruse was one he used only exclusively before making a huge scene, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. “If I can wait that long.” 

The clown strolled off, whistling a cheerful tune. A sea shanty? A funeral March? Whatever it was, the tune was very odd to hear in whistle form. 

An industrial style wagon sat off to the side, and Pere had loaded it with all the remaining pressure bombs. There was fuel there, too, and a funnel. They had been carried out here under the ruse of keeping flammables out of the factory. 

The redhead started walking, wheeling the supplies behind her. It was nearly nightfall by the time she arrived at the edge of the orchard. The trees were seeding, spreading their pollen across the ground. Fallen fruit could be found every now and again, and the mechanic selected one of each type, peeling back the skin and taking out the seeds. Those she stored in a little compartment tray she’d brought along. 

This was all she could think to do to prevent any backlash. 

Next, she spread the fuel in large circles around the orchard, one inside the other. This served to cross burn the natural fuel the greener provided. It was an old farmer's trick. It prevented fire spreading. Once the controlled burn died down, Pere wheeled the wagon over the edge of the devoid earth, pushing it far into the center of the ordeal. 

Giving as much distance as she could, the woman took one of the pressurized vials with her. Preparing to run, she twisted the top and tossed the contraption as hard as she could. It landed amongst the others, causing a chain reaction. The secret orchard, and all of the devil fruit with, went up in flames. Maybe the trees would grow back in time, but her people were safe — for now. 

Chapter Text

It was well dark when Pere arrived home, legs exhausted. She was physically and emotionally drained, but the feeling of accomplishment overrode that. By the seas, she was tired. 

Knowing her sleep habits, she’d probably get a second wind as soon as she sat down. Curiously, all the major lights were still on in the house. 

Letting herself in, she searched for her husband. He had made no appearance at the brawl, but he may have been too far away or simply ignorant. 

“Tito?” She called. “Why are the lights on?” 

The journeyman’s voice came from down the hall, speaking at a low tone to someone. “There she is.” His volume rose with the next sentence. “In here, my love! We have company.”

“At this hour?” Pere rounded the corner into the sitting room, curious. 

Oh. 

Oh god. 

By the very seas themselves. 

“Hey, missus!” Buggy raised a glass to her, feet up on their sofa table. Their body languages implied that he had been there for a while. 

Fucker. 

Why did everything have to be such a scene? 

“Bradley!” The woman forced her tone to be pleasant. “What are you doing here?” 

Tito stood, crossing the room to draw her into a hug. “Honey, I’m so happy you’re alright.” The mundane man pulled back, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Bradley stopped by to make sure we were safe, isn’t that nice?” 

“So nice. I didn’t realize you two were such good friends.” The redhead could see Buggy openly, albeit silently, mocking every word Anthony said behind his head. She locked eyes with him and he stuck out his tongue at her. 

Her husband patted her on the head. The urge to hit him was overwhelming. “You wouldn’t understand, darling. Men develop deep bonds over business. When I heard about the attacks, Bradley and Via were the first ones I thought about.” 

Not her? Alright. Okay. 

“Come, have some tea with us.” Tea? Kind of performative, Anthony. The journeyman stroked the back of her hand in what he likely thought was a comforting way, gesturing her into the room. 

Tito was seated at the single sitter sofa, Buggy on the couch that was for company. This left Pere no choice but to settle herself directly next to the clown. He patted her on the back in a friendly, platonic way. “Good to see you’re safe, Missus.” 

“Oh?” Pere patronized. Her husband was shit at reading tones, and seemed none the wiser of their tense exchange. “I didn’t know it was in question.” She willed her gaze to drill a hole through his head. 

Anthony poured a third cup of tea. “Sweetheart, you can admit you were scared. When I heard that you all had to barricade the factory, I was just blown away. How awful it must have felt to do men’s work.” 

“We all live here, Tito. We all have to contribute. “ Her tone was tense; her lips were drawn to a tight smile. 

Buggy coughed suddenly, concealing a chortle. Of course he was overjoyed that they were having the absolute worst time. “You know.” The clown engaged the journeyman in conversation. “Your wife is an impressive woman. Not often you see a female take charge like that.” 

The pirate was full blown mocking him. Pere had never heard him use the word ‘female’ in the entire time she’d known him.  

“Oh.” Anthony shifted uncomfortably. The flattery didn’t fit his narrative at all. His wife, to him, was a possession. She was meant to be seen, not heard or indulged. “That’s extremely kind of you to say. I’m sure you’re being overly generous.” 

“Someone has to be.” The clown muttered, taking a sip of the bitter spiced tea. Pere dug the tip of her shoe into his heel covertly. 

Was it ultra weird that this was the most comfortable she’d ever felt in her own home? It was a palpable effort not to curl her feet up and lean into Buggy’s side. And something told her knew that. 

“I second that. I’m not sure you know what you’re saying, Bradley.” The woman gritted. 

Tito frowned, setting his cup down. Beratingly, he spoke in a stage whisper. “My love. We’ve talked about this. You don’t need to be so combative. If a man pays you a compliment, just smile and say thank you. There’s no point in being difficult.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Buggy press his lips very tightly together, chewing at the inside of his bottom lip. It was as a thought bubble had appeared above his head debating if he wanted to keep making fun of Anthony or if he should simply kill him. 

“You’re so right.” The redhead finally forced out. Shifting her body towards the pirate, she fixed him with an intensively malicious smile. “Thank you, so much, for the compliment.” 

The clown peered at her from under his lashes, resting his chin on a closed fist. “Your pleasure.” 

“Excuse me.” The woman growled. 

“Sorry, slip of the tongue. My pleasure.” 

Chapter Text

The thinly veiled banter went on for a while, coming to an end when the clown’s patience started to run out. Many of his responses became so blatantly aggressive that even Tito was having trouble fitting them into his imagination of this situation. After all, to the miller, they were three friends having a blast. 

Meanwhile, it was like a war was waging within Pere. Everything Anthony said was such a turn off, but her proximity to Buggy had her body confused. The scent, heat, and sound of the pirate made her hormones stupid. 

And boy, did he know it. 

When Anthony went to retrieve more sugar cubes from the kitchen, the pirate had made a big show of casually leaning over her to grab a different spoon. As he withdrew, he trailed hand all the way from her knee to the top of her inner thigh. Before she had time to react, he was perfectly composed once more. 

At another point, whilst talking animatedly to the miller, he threw his leg over the edge of the couch. His shifting easily appeared to be a bid to get more comfortable, but it tipped his pelvis up enough that Pere could see the outline of his member pressed against his trousers. 

As Anthony relaxed, his statements, as they often did, grew more and more misogynistic. “—and don’t get me started on this one!” The journeyman laughed, gesturing to his wife. “She’ll find any excuse to talk back.” Which was wildly unfair, as she barely said anything to him. 

“She’s probably just a little cranky.” Buggy reasoned, watching Anthony in a predatory way. Like he intended to rip his throat out with his teeth. 

The miller laughed. “Of course! And what do they have to be cranky for? Us men do everything.” 

“That’s not what you told me before.” The clown played innocent, furrowing his brow. 

Tito opened his mouth to say something jovial, but paused as he processed Buggy’s words. “Huh?” 

“Remember, you told me she’s never once cum for you.” Malice was growing with each passing word, a sick amusement at the other man’s discomfort. 

“I—“ The common man turned to his wife, caught out. “That was just shop talk, of course. It wasn’t meant to be that serious.” 

“Really? I think denying a woman an equal chance at pleasure is a grievous offense.” The clown intoned darkly. 

Pere sighed. Not her circus, not her monkeys. They could fight amongst themselves. 

Anthony floundered, forcing a smile. “Haha. You are such a kidder, Bradley. I think you’re being a little disrespectful to the lady, though.” 

“Am I?” The pirate raised his chin, looking down his nose at the other man. “My mistake. I must have gotten confused after listening to you bellyache for an hour about hating women who you’ve failed to satisfy.” 

“Hey!” Finally, the bland man gave protest. “Bud, I think you’re taking it a little too—“ his protests were cut off by a yelp of surprise. In his distraction, he hadn’t noticed the circling of the floating hand. The appendage had a hold of a length of wire, looping it around Anthony with speed to secure him to the chair. It cut into his skin, causing raised red marks nearly immediately. 

“What is the meaning of—“ the miller trailed off, realizing all at once that he may be in some deep shit as he spotted the disembodied hand. His eyes dropped to Buggy’s folded arms — one of which was now handless. 

Pere had jumped to her feet, alarmed, but hadn’t intervened. She glanced wildly between them, at a loss. No warning given, the pirate pulled her backwards into his lap, hand reattaching just in time to clutch her jaw firmly. He forced her to arch her chest upwards, pressing her head back onto his shoulder. 

The clown’s other hand came down to grip her thigh lewdly, thumb dipping down between her legs. The show had begun. 

“Let me tell you what’s on the agenda for tonight, Anthony.” Buggy purred, placing a pointed kiss on Pere’s neck. “In the interest of education, I’ll make sure each lesson is nice and extensive for you. First, I’m going to make your wife cum half a dozen times with my fingers alone. Then, I’ll move on to tasting her cum on my tongue.” 

A true showman, this monologue was given with a great deal of flare. “Oral is a given, of course, and oh, the way I’ll give it to her. She’ll be screaming as she rides my face. Then comes the fun part, where I show you just how much her pussy can take. And it’ll take. It’ll take my cock, over and over and over again. Maybe I’ll find something else to stick in her, I haven’t decided yet. We’ll play it by ear. As for fucking — I’ll show you all the methods. I’ll fuck her face, her breasts, her pussy, her ass.” The woman shivered at the vulgar descriptors, imagining the sensations. To Tito, it likely read as a shiver of fear. 

“I won’t stop until she is entirely coated, head to toe, in my cum, and then I’ll bring her right to the brink, one more time. At that point, I’ll have her sit at my feet and touch herself, and beg me to finish her. And of course, I’ll take mercy on her. That’s what a gentleman does. For the sake of this being a teaching moment, if at any point she fails to cum, sobbing for more…well. We’ll have to start that section over.” Buggy concluded. 

The couple wore matching expressions of desperation — Anthony’s, of course, was because his world was shattering before him. Pere’s…

Well, Pere’s was because words aren't enough. She had to experience what he was describing, if it was the last thing she ever did.

Chapter Text

The clown had every intention of making this agonizingly, excruciatingly slow. For Tito, that was. Buggy’s primary goal was to severe ties between the couple — traumatizing the wet blanket of a man in the process was just an added treat. 

Outside of the stand alone kiss, the pirate hadn’t touched Pere at all that day. Her body, which he had been conditioning to expect pleasure at regular intervals, was primed and ready for what he intended to give her. 

Although she wiggled and thrashed against him to get free, her movements kept halting to savor the slight sensations he was giving her. The clown sucked a path of hickeys down her neck, feeling her jerk her hips ever so slightly in response. She wanted everything he was giving her — the audience was what was making her uncomfortable. 

“You scoundrel! How dare you imply such perverse things of an innocent woman!” Tito was more concerned with how his wife was being portrayed, rather than her well-being itself. The knee jerk reaction should have been pleading for her safety, in the scenario that she was being exploited by a madman. 

Making strong eye contact, Buggy continued to manipulate the woman’s body.  The collar of her dress sat just on top of the bones below her neck, buttons running from the top of the garment to the natural waist. “It’s important to build suspense.” The clown explained. Slowly, he unbuttoned the dress as far as it would go. A chaste bustier laid underneath. He traced his fingers over the tops of her breast. “Let’s map out the sensitive areas, shall we?” 

Tito cursed and thrashed against his bindings. Blood welled up around the edges of the wires, ripping at his skin, yet the wires didn’t budge. 

The pirate chucked, giddy, undoing the clasp that held the bustier closed. Pere’s ample breasts sprang forth. Her nipples were erect and flushed. Buggy pinched the flesh between his fingers, rolling it. “Some women, well, the nipple might not do much for. This one,” he licked around the shell of her ear, “this one goes crazy for this kind of stimulation.”

The woman bucked her hips, whining. He could feel her sex growing hotter. Undoubtedly, if he reached under her dress, he’d find her already wet for him. 

But that was a special treat for later. 

His lover was hazy, disassociated with pleasure. Only now and again did she give any indication of being self conscious in being displayed as such. She pressed her chest more firmly into his hand, turning her face into his neck and breathing heavily. 

“I know baby, I know.” Buggy soothed her. “I know you hate waiting for my cock. But someone needs to be taught a lesson.” 

The pirate palmed her breasts individually, rolling them in his hand. Resting his fingers underneath the soft flesh, he made a show of weighing it in his hand. “The entirety of the breasts needs attention. And they demand attention, as well. Keep a careful eye on the way they move when I bounce her on my cock later.”

The show continued with Buggy presenting his fingers to her mouth, and letting out an approving hum as she allowed them to pass her lips. She sucked on them greedily, pressing her thighs closer together. There was an audible ‘pop’ when the pirate pulled his fingers away, returning the now wet digits to her tender flesh. He squeezed her breast hard enough to cause a bruise, prompting her to let out a gratified ‘mmm’. 

“One thing about your wife, she loves cock. And she loves to wrap these sweet lips around mine. Look how worked up she’s getting just thinking about it.” Pere’s pupils were blown out, cheeks flushed. “Funnily enough, I thought it was any cock. But it turns out not all men are created equal.” The pirate cast a disparaging look towards the journeyman’s crotch, grimacing. 

Anthony sputtered, pained. “She doesn’t want you! She can’t help it! You’re hurting her!”

“Am I?” The clown smiled, all at once removing his hands from her body. He held them up in the air, as if at gunpoint. The lull allowed Pere to get her wits about herself, and she sat up, confused. Buggy helped her stand. “Go ahead. Run. “

“Huh?” The miller blurted, from across the space.

“You’re free. Run, if that’s what you want. But know I won’t come for you this time.” An ultimatum, an entreating plea. The pirate locked eyes with his lover, speaking volumes with a look. It was a question — will you allow me this or will you cast me aside again ? 

A moment's hesitation, sense speaking loudly to her. An inner battle.  It was humiliating for her too, he knew that. But he needed her to do this for him. To allow him to set the scales straight. 

Refusing to look at Anthony, the redhead allowed herself to fall right back into Buggy’s lap. 

Chapter Text

The journeyman was shell shocked, horrified. Prior interactions between this odd man and his wife were being contextualized before his eyes. Each huffed breath and unfiltered cry confused him, challenging his notion that Pere simply didn’t crave completion the way he did. In the merchant’s lap, she looked…well…positively hungry . 

A strange, sweet smell was filling the air, and the distressed man suspected this was what the general populace meant with the phrase ‘the smell of sex’. 

Meanwhile…

Overwhelmed and understimulated, the redhead allowed the clown to shimmy her dress down past her hips, letting it fall to the floor. Her panties did a poor job of concealing her excitement, a damp patch blooming in the fabric over her center. Otherwise, only boots and stockings remained of her attire. 

Buggy hooked her knees over the outside of his, then spread his legs. The woman gasped, startled, darting her hand up behind her to find purchase by grabbing the back of his neck. He kissed her inner arm in reward. “Positive reinforcement is very important,” the pirate tidied his lover’s hair, smoothing the copper locks back from her face. 

The clown slid his hands over her inner thighs, massaging the soft flesh there. The tease of avoiding her more sensitive features was with great intention. She squirmed, attempting to shift his fingers' targets. 

Tito stared on in confusion, recalling Pete’s claims that it was biology’s fault that she was never particularly wet when they laid together. Judging by the rapid soaking of the thin fabric, that misunderstanding had been concocted as a cover up. 

Taking note of where the journeyman’s gaze led, Buggy ghosted a finger along the edges of the fabric concealing her sex. With performative slowness, he hooked a finger under the fabric and bared the woman’s glistening cunt to the air. 

“The flesh here is so resilient. I can’t count the number of times I’ve stretched her pussy to allow whatever I may please, and yet she always tightens right back up for me.” Slipping one finger inside Pere, he set a moderate rhythm exploring her insides. 

“Some parts are more…delicate than others. More fun.” The captain curled his finger inside of her, hitting a special spot he’d memorized over their time together. 

The woman let out a low whine, craning her neck upwards, searching for a kiss. The clown indulged her, tangling his tongue with hers, but never breaking eye contact with the other man. Adding another finger, he sped his pace. The gentle stretch was killing Pere, her default craving to be taken hard and fast.

Groping around behind her, she attempted to grasp her lover’s member, denied as he slapped her hand aside. “Patience is a virtue.” He muttered darkly, though he looked quite pleased with the searching. Her little attentions went to show this interaction was hardly one sided. 

“More,” Pere pleaded, thrusting her hips to drive his fingers deeper. Taking mercy on her, the clown scissored his fingers broadly, ensuring he used enough force to allow for that burn she enjoyed so much. His other hand came down to circle her clit, parting her folds to ensure Tito had a good view of her pussy clenching around his fingers. 

The journeyman looked as though ritual slaughter was taken place in front of him, disgust melding with fascination. 

Wetness seeped down across his hands, an active dripping of pre-cum that eased the passage of his fingers. 

The redhead began crying out nonstop, a mixture of ‘ah’s, ‘mmm’s, and ‘ooohh’s filling the air. It seemed she was having trouble controlling her breath, not to mention the movement of her pelvis. The clown knew these to be signs that she was close to reaching her first orgasm of breaking night. 

“Try to learn something.” Buggy mocked, driving his fingers into her with such force that the slapping of skin on skin echoed through the empty house. 

The woman’s hips seemed to hover, every muscle in her body tensing in preparation for the incoming orgasm. Harsher pressure on her clit and she was gone, cumming with such intensity that her wet sprayed out of her and upwards. 

The pirate groaned softly in satisfaction, allowing himself to pull her backside closer to his hardened member. He rubbed up against her, prolonging her pleasure with the erotic feel of his cock against her ass. Pere collapsed against him, the climax softening her sharp personality. She sighed, nuzzling up against the cool fabric across his chest. 

Often, she would exhibit this reaction to sensory overload, so it wasn’t a surprise. At times, after an intense completion, she would demonstrate nearly kitten-like behavior — giggling and sighing and kicking her legs against the bed in total joy. In this scenario, the ecstatic reaction added insult to injury. The woman had completely forgotten her husband was in the room.

But Buggy hadn’t. 

Typically, this endearing behavior made the clown want to consume her whole. He would force her body into another orgasm almost immediately, breaking down her boundaries so intensely that she was at total mercy to his whims. 

Now, however, the pirate was proving a point. And any affection his lover showed him was offensive and disturbing to their sole audience member. So, he didn’t escalate, allow her to cuddle and kiss him to her heart’s content. 

Her husband was frozen in shock. Hurt, anger, and pride warred for dominance on his sandy features. There might have been tears welling up in his eyes. 

And that was only lesson number one. 

Chapter Text

Buggy cleaned his essence soaked fingers off, licking them until the taste subsided. Dickmatized, Pere watched him happily, gazing up at him through her eyelashes. Good sex made her happy; kinky sex made her stupid. 

The pirate had quite the temper, which enhanced their compatibility. Because when she got worked up, she wanted him to hurt her. In a sexy way of course. So, when the next round began with him grabbing her roughly around the throat to escalate their kiss into something more brutal — she wasn’t complaining. 

He pushed her back, forcing her off of his lap. “On your knees,” her lover commanded. She obliged. Remaining for the most part fully clothed, the pirate loosened the sash around his waist, allowing his cock to spring free. “Suck it.” 

Resting her elbows by his knees, her hands on her thighs, the redhead eagerly took the member into her mouth. She tongued it sweetly, earnestly. There was a groan as she tasted the salty bitterness seeping from the tip. It felt like a step down from the prior energy, and she wondered what this was meant to show. 

Pere didn’t have to wait long for the clarification. 

The clown leaned back against the cushions, gripping the back of her head and shoving her forcefully down towards his pelvis. She gagged, the punishing rhythm he set making it hard to breathe. The strength of his hand had her completely immobilized as he pulled her off until he was nearly free from her mouth then bobbed her right back down. She had to relax her throat to make it work. Her eyes watered heavily. 

“Time for a pop quiz.” Abruptly, the pirate craned Pere’s head back from his phallus, angling her face towards her husband. Her pupils were so blown out that her eyes looked black. Yearning to continue her task, her tongue poked out slightly over her bottom lip, mouth open wide. Her lips were swollen, nose runny. A sloppy, freshly fucked mess. “Has she ever looked at you that way?” 

No. No, she hadn’t.

The slightest bit of comprehension touched her face, and she nearly looked repentant at the sight of her husband. The expression didn’t last as her lover yanked at her hair, lifting her thighs up off her ankles and prompting her to kneel fully. He pressed his member back to her lips, beginning to fuck her face with gusto. 

Each thrust pulled a little ‘unh’ noise from the woman, emphasizing her desperate arousal. This felt like a long, long time to go without the satisfaction of Buggy’s shaft inside her, and she wanted. Oh, she wanted. She wanted to be helpless under his weight. 

“A woman likes options, of course, and it’s essential to offer them.” The clown was less composed for this monologue than the last, making certain to place emphasis on how good it felt for him, how it was a sensation the journeyman would never experience. 

Pulling her into deep throat, he spoke directly to her. “Tell me baby — do you want me to come in your mouth or on your ass as you ride my face?” That nearly sent her eyes rolling back in her head. She murmured something, unable to speak with her mouth stuffed full. “Oh, whoops. How careless of me. What was that?” 

The cock slid out of her mouth and she swallowed her spit, gasping. “Mmm—I wan-I want your mouth on me, please!” Pere clutched at his trousers, her legs weak. 

“Happy to oblige, sweetheart.” Buggy sent a saucy and very rude wink in Anthony’s direction, returning to the couch to lay down flat. At this angle, the miller would be able to see every tremble and expression of ecstasy his wife put forth whilst the pirate ate her out. Holding out a hand to his lover, he laced his fingers with hers, doing the same on the other side as she moved to straddle his face. This would allow her a larger range of movement without expending too much of her strength. 

“Don’t…” the redhead looked vaguely self conscious. “Don’t you need your hands free to touch yourself?” 

“I don’t need anything beyond what you give me.” The clown intoned bluntly. 

That made her smile, a smile much more wholesome than the matter at hand. “Okay.” 

“I won’t be able to narrate this next part; so pay attention.” Buggy directed, snidely, to Tito. 

Guiding her downwards, he helped Pere hover just within reach of his tongue, then pulled abruptly to off balance her. She yelped as she inadvertently put her whole weight on him. Unbothered, he explored her folds with tongue and teeth. 

A slow lick across her core had her sighing in delight, and her eyes fluttered shut as he wiggled his tongue into her. Undulating the appendage, he probed her insides carefully. Alternating between internal and external stimulation, he brought her right to the brink once again.  

As the mechanic approached completion, the pirate’s own genitals stiffed and twitched at each elongated moan he drew from her. And as she tumbled over the edge into oblivion once more, he rocketed his own cum over the smooth flesh of her back. Releasing his grip on her hands, the clown allowed her to droop forward over the arm of the couch, exposing the expanse of her back. 

With great intention, he reached around to rub comforting circles into her back, painting his cum into her skin. He coated her back with it, the thick white liquid standing out from her peachy skin tone. 

Tito watched on, exhausted from struggling. His spirit was well worn down, and he had a feeling that this night wouldn’t end anytime soon. 

Chapter Text

The slight taste of his hand around her neck had her thinking about it nonstop. Abashed, after shifting off the clown’s face and further down his body, she murmured “can you…um…?” 

The clown made a big show of cradling his ear, tilting his head upwards to her. “Hm?” He was clearly hoping she’d ask for something depraved. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have a history of doing that very thing. “What was that?” 

Pere finished the question, cheeks turning red. Embarrassment was becoming dominant in her again. The stage they were at in messing around was usually when she would admit some obscure fantasy and they would test it out. If she didn’t voice her wants, she wouldn’t be able to think about anything else. 

A wicked grin spread across her lover’s face as he processed the question, and he chuckled maniacally. “Say it loud enough for the entire class to hear, sweetheart.” 

“Um. Well. Can you…” the redhead tucked her chin and looked down. “Can you choke me unconscious and then fuck me awake?” 

“Pereira!!” Anthony cried, agast. Hearing his wife ask for worse than he’d seen yet was earth shaking. “Why would you want something so disgusting—! Are you such a harl—“ 

Buggy threw his fist across the room, interrupting the insult. The appendage hit the miller with such force his head flew back into the headrest behind him. The clown withdrew the hand, reattaching it. “You’re being very rude. My lovely assistant was providing valid artistic input.” 

The clown stroked a hand across her collarbone, trailing a finger up to her throat. He established a grip around her neck that compressed the sides, rather than the front, so as not to cause permanent damage. The immediate blood and oxygen flow would be restricted, but only to the point of swooning. 

Then he squeezed, flipping them over so as to straddle her. He pinned her hands above her head with his free hand, putting his weight on her legs to hold her down. The redhead gasped, caught in the delicious illusion it provided. This was one kink she couldn’t pinpoint the source of. Was it the feeling of having no say? 

Or perhaps the idea that he would exact his say on her body without her knowledge? Whichever it was, the consensual non consent appealed to her. A major component of their sex was being forced to take whatever pleasure he wished to enact on her, and it was her favorite part. 

The drama was especially thick, as Anthony was shouting in alarm. The journeyman had forgotten her request entirely, caught up in the concept that the clown might kill her — intentionally or not. 

Little did the vanilla man know, he had nothing to fear. This was a game they played often. Buggy knew just how long he could push it prior to going too far. Why? Because he’d choked plenty of real enemies to death. It was slow, and boring, and was well past them falling unconscious. 

Pere’s eyes began to flutter closed, a mixed expression of bliss and agony frozen onto her face. Attempting to buck her pelvis up, she managed to grind her freshly soaking pussy up into him. The clown met her in the motion, giving her friction to utilize against her clit with a leg between hers. 

Slowly, her little noises of pleasure trailed off, and she went limp against the couch. Buggy released her throat immediately, admiring the hand print that now marred the pale skin of her décolletage. 

Tito was thrashing against his bindings again, attempting to break loose. To, what? Perhaps he intended to fight. Perhaps he intended to attempt to unnecessarily revive her. The world may never know, as his attempts were in vain. 

In a truly sinister fashion, the clown made a show of exploiting the limp body before him. He rubbed a thumb over the woman’s lips, menacingly making his way downwards. Her nipples, sides, and hips received the same attention. The pirate rubbed a circle into her clit, and dipped his fingers inside her.

It was then that he moved onto the events of the intermission, pushing the fabric of his trousers and breeches further down his hips to give his member more freedom. Taking himself in hand, he slapped the tip of his cock against his lover’s clit, rubbing the shaft between her folds. The motion sounded wet, vulgar. He pressed the mushroom tip inside of her, letting out a potent and self satisfied ‘ahhhh’ as he seated himself within her. 

The oxygen was returning to her system, and the still unconscious woman stirred enough to murmur ‘mmmm’. Establishing a steady rhythm, Buggy began to thrust in and out of her center, alternating angles to fully stimulate her. The echo of skin against skin filled the room. 

All at once, the woman jolted awake. For a moment, she looked panicked, unsure of what happened. When she realized her wishes were being fulfilled, she let out a guttural moan. “Fuck.” She groaned. “That’s so fucking hot. Fuck fuck fuck fuck, FUCK. Imma cum. Imma fucking cum!” 

The praise and narration was deeply satisfying to the Captain, and he increased the force of his thrusts. The brutal pace set his lover screaming, a combination of overwhelming sensation and pure excitement. She orgasmed violently, yet he did not slow his pace. He continued drilling his cock into her, angling into her most sensitive places to deliver rebound orgasm after rebound orgasm. 

Cum spurted dramatically out of her, spraying across the pirate's stomach. She was squirting, a normal sexual reaction that her husband had never even heard of. 

The woman screamed, squealed, and mewled, completely losing control of her reactions. “Fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me.” She chanted, pressing her face into the side of the sofa.

Chapter Text

Taking one of her wrists in hand, motion not once faltering, he pivoted his lover onto her front. Once she was facing away from him, he grabbed her other wrist and suspended her in a deep kneeling position as he drove into her. The new angle drove his member even deeper inside her, using gravity to intensify the slide in and out. 

“Your fourth and fifth lesson,” Buggy announced, speaking again after the long departure, “are in regards to ownership.” He slid his hands further up Pere’s arms, to her shoulders. Pulling her back so that her back was against his chest, it implied that his cock was bent at an impossible angle. 

Upon further inspection, his member was no longer connected at all. The disembodied member continued it’s work independent from him. This provided a fun new angle in which to psychologically torture his subdued enemy. The phallus shoved itself so deep within her that the length disappeared entirely before reappearing on the next thrust. The lack of a body to carry along made for easy maneuvering and near unlimited access. 

After several more passes, the member stopped in a sudden shudder. The horrific realization dawned on Anthony that the other man was actively cumming inside his wife, and that he had some manner of magical sex powers that were allowing him to do so. 

The next hour or so was spent in this way, the pirate getting himself hard time after time, and cumming deep within Pere’s pussy. The forbidden feel of the entire thing had the woman’s own liquidity essence warning with the thick white of the clown’s. Her sex was absolutely ruined with cum, shoved deeper and deeper inside of her with each time he fucked her. 

Exhausted, she was resigned to issue breathy little vocalizations as her cervix was assaulted.  Under no expectation to support her own weight, the woman leaned heavily against the hands supporting her. 

“You see,” the pirate continued, “making something yours on paper is easy.” He wrapped an arm around her upper chest, freeing his other hand to cup her chin. Possessively, he turned her head to make eye contact with him over her own shoulder. Pere leaned into the gesture, observing him warmly through her eyelashes. “Taking control over someone’s mind, body, and soul — well, that’s something else entirely.” 

Placing a bruising kiss on his lover’s lips, he turned triumphantly back to his captive audience. “Here’s another test, simpleton, using deductive reasoning, who do you think your dear wife really belongs to?” 

Chapter Text

Withdrawing his member from the redhead’s center, Buggy summoned it back to himself smugly. It must have reattached to his body, hidden from sight behind Pere hips. Still mostly clothed, the clown dug in his pocket to produce a vial of oil. 

Anthony didn’t want to even hazard a guess as to what it was for. 

The journeyman was enraged, saddened, shocked, and offended. But most of all — his pride hurt. The idea that his wife had entertained another man’s affection while committed to him was burning him alive. He did view her as property, but not as a house or a carriage. The miller viewed her as the other half of his family image. No length was ever too far to save face. 

Years before, when he’d found that the woman he was engaged to had hidden lewd thoughts, he’d completely lost his taste for her. He spurned her. Realistically, it hadn’t bothered him even a day until he saw her again. Pereira had returned to town with a gloom about her. The passionate and unruly spitfire of his youth had calmed into a mellow and unremarkable woman. And she was still decent enough to look at. 

No woman had ever been good enough for the miller. Tito had a specific image of how he expected women to behave, and anyone who deviated from that mold lost his favor. Though he found the current version of Pereira to be close enough to what he wanted to make it work, he still highly disliked the constant stream of independent thought that he could see moving behind her eyes. 

However, after years of trial and error, and countless broken engagements, Anthony had been willing to look past what he considered to be little insufficiencies. Pereira didn’t speak unless spoken to, for the most part, and she rarely deviated from the script they both knew he expected her to follow. 

Good lord; he’d thought she’d learned to be chaste. To be modest. Proper. But as he was learning, she had only learned to hide those tendencies beneath the surface. The stranger, who had eerily crystal eyes and an oddly flashy countenance about him, was aware and in sync with those private desires. Their interactions were disgusting, but oddly entrancing. It was like watching a building burn. The only problem was, Anthony was still inside that building. What had happened to her out at sea to make her stifle her vulgar urges so abruptly? 

The journeyman pressed back in his chair, making a, perhaps misguided, large realization. The pirates. “You’re a pirate!” He exclaimed, as if unlocking some grand secret. “You’re on the wanted posters in the next town over!” 

The criminal paused, though only for a moment. He fixed Tito with a bored glare, grinning broadly. “Oh no!” The pirate exclaimed, sarcasm thick. “He’s found out my diabolical plan!” A roll of the eyes. “Get real, dipshit, it wasn’t finding buried treasure to figure that out.”

“Stop,” Pereira giggled at the intruder, only half of the protest sounding sincere. 

That lull was all he allowed Anthony. The blue haired man seeped his fingers with the oil, slicking up what could only be his member, though it was hidden from sight. Bradley (Buggy?) lead the woman to circle his neck with her hands, leaving his own completely free. The leverage shifted, and he undulated his hips against the redhead's backside, slicking the way. 

The only indicator that the pirate had penetrated her ass was the slight widening of the woman’s eyes before her breasts began bouncing widely. The thrusts from below caused a significant amount more rebound than the angle before. 

Buggy slid his hand back around to the woman’s front, spreading her labia wide to show his cum dripping out of her. Gathering some of the white fluid on his fingertips, he pressed it back inside her. “Hey Tito, didn’t you say your wife was infertile? How about I give it a try? Think my seed will take where yours has fallen short?” 

“That’s mean—“ Pereira gasped out, drawing reference to inside knowledge Anthony wasn’t privy to. 

The image of the madman impregnating his wife broke something in him, and he stubbornly blinked against the tears suddenly streaming down his face. He was despondent, defeated. 

“Aww.” The pirate mocked. “Baby, I think I hurt his feelings. Whoops.” 

Chapter Text

After cumming countless times, and once more, Pere felt as though all her limbs had failed her. The stimulation down below wasn’t feeling like much of anything anymore. It was still thrilling, on principle. The day had been too filled with excitement, a hard reset to the depressing life she’d lived the last year. 

The redhead allowed her form to be manipulated, barely registering the banter going on between the two men. Relief stretched through her frame as her lover allowed her arms down and she accepted his help navigating back onto the sofa. The post coital haze was overtaking her mind. Nothing was as serious as it would normally feel, the severity of the matter at hand wiggling it’s way from her grasp. 

The wetness — hers, his — seeped slowly out of her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about it staining the sofa. Her lover did up his trousers, seating himself next to her limp form. Pere let out a contented sigh and dragged herself into his lap to cuddle up against his chest. Buggy gave no protest to the easy affection, rubbing a hand up and down her back. Sleep climbed in through some unlocked door, blurring her gaze. She fell asleep curled up safe in the pirate’s arms. 

Awaking was not nearly so peaceful. It was unclear how much time had paced, but she jolted awake to the sound of a struggle. Someone had wrapped a blanket around her and laid her flat against the cushions. Wearily, she forced her eyes to focus, fighting against the lethargy, her mind screaming for rest. 

Anthony had freed himself, somehow, the skin on his arms raw and mutilated. Perhaps he had brute forced his way through the wire, or maybe he had slipped underneath it at the cost of mauled flesh. Exertion pumped his blood faster, and he was bleeding openly. 

Buggy was cackling, snickering, laughing as he dodged the journeyman again and again. Tito knocked into a cabinet, shattering glass over their heads. Redirecting, he attempted to tackle the pirate, letting out a yell as a booted foot swept his leg out from under him. It was obvious the clown was only playing with him, letting his desperation build pending his next big trick. 

Anything to cause the other pain. 

The miller scrambled to pick up a large shard of glass, the piece biting into his hand as he attempted to wield it like a knife. “Bastard!” Tito cursed, slashing the makeshift weapon through the air in front of him. 

The clown dodged easily, snorting. “No, continue, continue, you’re doing great pal. Stellar plan.” He mocked. Buggy wasn’t the strongest or fastest on the sea, but he was no joke. And here on land, where survival wasn’t a constant struggle, he was outpacing the burly man by leaps and strides. 

Anthony wasn’t the biggest, sure, but he had that dense muscle that could only be obtained through hauling product and operating mostly manual machinery. If he hit someone hard enough, using his body weight to lead, he could knock them off balance. 

At least that’s what he was used to. 

Gaining ground, the journeyman attempted to drive the glass down through the pirate’s upper arm. The flesh separated, but not how the attacker had hoped, a clean segment jumping away and then reattaching once the weapon cleared. The miller watched on in horror. “—disgusting monster! Go back to hell where you belong!” 

“Why? They having a limp dick meeting with you and all your friends? Afraid I don’t qualify!” The clown heckled, brushing invisible dust off his vest. He paced past the couch, neither men noticing that Pere was observing them. 

Tito full force tackled him, leveling him to the floor. The only reason he managed was because the pirate was laughing so hard at his own joke that he was no longer paying attention. And he continued to laugh, as the miller made a valiant effort to pummel him into the ground. 

To the bland man’s credit, he managed to land a blow or two. They were reckless, unskilled punches, but they had forced behind them. 

The pirate let out a noise that sounded a lot like ‘whoop’, like dropping a plate or tripping over a rug. 

Anthony intensified his efforts — he was in a blind rage, fueled by adrenaline. Breathing heavy, with sweat rolling down his face, he managed to be the slightest bit of a contender. 

But only that. 

The journeyman raised his weapon high above his head, hoping to get by on force alone. Suddenly, he paused, body stuttering and stiffening. A distant look entered his eyes. The man collapsed to the side, attempting to reach behind him but not having the strength.  

There was a sickening ‘shink’ as the knife his wife had plunged between his ribs slid out of his back. Tito lay gasping, choking on his blood on the ground. 

“You know.” Pere’s tone was distant, thoughtful. “I hated every second of being your wife. But I think I’ll enjoy being your widow.” 

Chapter Text

Red strands of hair darkened in the bath water, looking like blood seeping from a narrow wound. 

That’s not to mention the real blood tinting the water pink. 

Pere sat with her feet drawn up to her chest, face resting against the side of the tub just above the water line. Like a doll, her lover had methodically cleaned her with a wet rag. The water was growing cold as she continued to sit in the tub. 

Her counterpart — all long, tanned limbs and color — sat serenely by the side of the basin, inspecting various perfumed bottles. Removing the lids, he sniffed each one until finding which smell belonged to her hair. He lathered the cleanser together in his hand, then massaged it into her scalp. A shallow bowl was used as a tool to rinse the suds from her hair. 

Her husband’s body laid lifeless, or soon to be lifeless, in the sitting room. And she felt…perfectly fine. 

“That’s the first time I’ve ever killed someone I’ve known.” Pere admitted. 

The pirate was silent for a time, clearly brainstorming how to free her from her existential crisis. “You don’t have to kill anyone you don’t want to.” He shrugged. “I’ll do it for you.”

She snorted, fluttering her feet to make the water move. “What if I don’t want them to die?”

The clown shifted uncomfortably. “…agree to disagree?”

“Buggy.” 

“Close your eyes?” Her lover tried again. 

“Buggy!” A sharp slap to the water, splashing at him. 

The man held his hands up to block. “Listen doll.” Resting his arms on the brim of the tub, he focused on her with intensity.  “I’m never gonna be someone you can reign in. If you’re gonna be my girl, you’re gonna have to learn to live with that. “ 

The redhead met his gaze, matching his posture. “If? You’re giving me a choice?” 

“Fuck no,” Buggy scoffed. “But I sounded cool, didn’t I?”

They both laughed — exhausted, but in easy unison. It was astounding how they could joke together in a moment like this. 

A tanned hand stroked her hair down the back of her neck. The man pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m going to go clean up the mess our late great friend made.” 

Turning to go, the pirate found his progress stopped by a tentative hand on his wrist. “Will you bathe with me?” His lover asked. 

Buggy furrowed his brow, crouching back down to her height. “—you still turned on? You’re sweet, but I gotta admit I’m done for the night.” 

The redhead flushed, hiding her eyes. “No. I just…can you hold me?” 

This intimacy wasn’t performative…making it feel…like something else. It felt like a promise. A seriousness foreign to them. There was a long silence. 

The man sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. His frustration didn’t lay with her — it was over his own internal struggle to submit to real tenderness. There was no emotional coherence within him beside mark, manipulate, and maim. 

This would change something. 

He undressed, climbing into the tub to settle his bare body behind hers. 

Chapter Text

Damp hair haloing around her head, Pere was fast asleep on the wide low profile bed. The dark circles under her eyes and the ruddy flush of her face indicated how much too far she’d pressed her body that day. She was lost to the world, sleeping so deeply that her breathing was nearly silent. 

Buggy sat next to her on the bed, wired and wide awake. The snail communicator in his hand came to motion, and he tucked it into his ear. “Hey.” His voice was low, half professional and half hushed. “We got a problem.”

Alvida’s voice was barely audible in response. “By the seas, the sun isn’t even up. What did you do?” 

“We’ll need the night cover. Any of the crew mates with you?” The male pirate bounced his leg anxiously against the bed frame. He didn’t regret anything that had occurred that night, but it sure made things more complicated. 

“What’s this about, clown?” The female captain demanded. 

“Uh— well. I may have cucked Tito and Pere may have killed him for his reaction.”

“—shit.” There was shuffling on the other end of the line. “I’ll come myself. We need to contain this. Try not to fuck anything else up before I get there.” 

The line disconnected. 

The Latina was still wearing her fluffy pink sleeping mask atop her hair when she arrived. Standing beside the clown in the humble sitting room, she rubbed her temples. “Was this planned? Why’d she have a knife freshly post coital? Do I want to know?” She interrogated. 

Buggy shrugged. “It’s one of mine, I know that. I don’t know when she had the chance to grab it. Get his legs, will y’a?” 

A disgruntled huff. “Whatever. Where are we taking him?” 

Despite his unnatural strength, the male captain wasn’t having the easiest time. Anthony was (had been?) big and dense, in more ways than one. “Town square. We’re framing the dead sea rats on the corridor.”  

‘Iron Mace’ Alvida rolled her eyes, “you take the legs, weakling.” 

“Not all of us use weapons that weigh as much as a person.” Regardless of his protest, they switched sides. 

The walk/haul to town square wasn’t too far, though it was more complex when transporting a body no one could catch sight of. Most of the townspeople were still sleeping off the excitement of the previous afternoon, and they made it to their designation without a hiccup. 

They blatantly dumped the sandy haired man onto the side of the street, no regard for the memory of him. 

“An arrow would cause a similar puncture wound.” The Latina’s heels clicked on the cobblestone as she tapped on over to one of the opposing pirates’ corpse. She pulled an unused arrow from his belt. “Get me a handful of dirt, will you?” 

Her co-Captain gave a mock salute, taking off towards the flower beds on the opposite side of the square. They were full of sunflowers and daisies, some one hundred feet away. 

Alvida kneeled down, examining the puncture wound in Tito’s back, not bothering to be careful with her nails. The sharp attachments pulled roughly at the severed skin, and, very unexpectedly, the man let out a feeble moan. Was he alive? 

The female captain took the arrow and plunged it through his heart. Well, not anymore. 

Chapter Text

END OF ARC 1: HIGH INFIDELITY

START OF ARC 2: DEVIL DOG  

It would take several days for the coroner to round up and inspect the bodies — this was way more business than the sole professional had seen in years. 

In the meantime, Alvida was organizing the last details prior to leaving town. And Buggy and Pere? They were playing house, I suppose. 

Living on land, even momentarily, had its benefits. On a ship, it felt much like being out completely out in the open at all times. A house, however, provided a sense of privacy and seclusion that felt like safety. And it was that safety that allowed the couple to explore their new dynamic in peace. 

The redhead sighed into a long kiss, sitting in the pirate's lap facing him. The clown admired the long stretch of neck and collar that her low cut dress revealed. His hair was loose from his normal short ponytail, allowing her something to grip. The man slid his finger along the edge of the fabric covering her. “Why did you ever stop dressing like this?”

“I never started!” Her tone was bright, whimsical. In this moment, this single solitary moment, she was allowing herself to be happy. Totally, completely happy. “You dressed me like this. I used to wear pants.” 

Grinning, he shifted his hand to run over one of her bare calves. The dress only fell to mid thigh. “Can you blame me? I’m a man too, you know, not just a pirate.”

“I don’t get the appeal. These summer dresses aren’t even form fitting.” Pere tugged at the fabric, exhibiting the additional space empty inside the fabric. 

The clown grinned, sliding his hand further up her leg. “Nothing to stop me from slamming into your pretty little pussy.” He explained. 

“Glad we share that preference.” The redhead fixed him with a sultry gaze, but didn’t pursue the topic further. Slapping her hands down on his chest, she glanced around the room. “Want to play a drinking game?” 

“There rum around here?” 

Pere jumped up, going over to the cupboard to check. “Bingo-!” 

“What’s the game? Strip poker?” The pirate waggled his eyebrows. 

“Truth or drink.” A devious proposal, the woman plopping herself down at the chair across from his. 

Buggy snorted. “Do all your favorite games involve monologuing?”

“Or sex.” She countered.  

“Touché.” 

“You go first,” the redhead began to say, though she froze mid sentence. Gray eyes fixed on something past him, where he knew the glass doors to be. Pere scrambled upwards, toppling her chair over. He’d seen apprehension, fear, sadness, etc on her face before, but he’d never witnessed such sheer unbridled fear before.

The clown didn’t need any additional context clues, drawing a pistol from his satchel where it lay on the table. Buggy spun around, fixing the weapon on the door. 

And…well, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. A creature sat there, perfectly still. It had the head and body of a dog, but there was something wrong. Something…othered. Its eyes had no irises, little black dots in the center of the sockets, fixed dead ahead. Its mouth was too large, curbed upward in what might have been a smile, had it not read as so menacing. 

Now, the Captain wasn’t the bravest, primarily because he knew when to threaten and when to grovel, respectively, but there was something he was missing about this particular predicament. 

Glancing over at Pere, he stopped at her desperate voice, “don’t look away!” She pleaded, and he could feel her hands come forward to clutch at the back of his vest as she came up to huddle behind him. 

It was too late — he’d already broken eye contact. 

“Open the door.” No longer behind him, the redhead’s came from the direction he was pointing his pistol in. The clown snapped his head back around. 

The dog was gone, replaced by the mirror image of his lover. Again, something was wrong. The image of the woman on the other side of the glass had no irises, and she was smiling so largely that her lips formed a ‘U’. 

“Sweetheart…what the fuck am I looking at?”

Chapter Text

The entity on the other side of the door pressed their fingers to the glass. “Where oh where has my garden gone? Where oh where could it be?” It sung, in Pere’s voice, locking eyes with its spitting image. 

Her mother had told her stories of beings such as this as a child — accomplished mages with vendettas, skirting accountability by taking the forms of others. The design was imperfect, but it sold the image of a mirror well enough. 

Save for the power rolling off the other ‘woman’ in waves, threatening to crumble the sky itself. 

“Well, she’s hot, I’ll give her that.” The pirate quipped, attempting to make light of the situation. 

It was then that his lover noticed that the being wasn’t looking at her, but rather through her. Their nostrils flared slightly, crouching and circling like a bird of paradise. It would have looked stupid, had it not been so predatory. 

Pere stood on her tiptoes, straining to whisper into the Captain’s ear. “I don’t think she can see us…I think she’s navigating by smell. The eyes…I don’t think she got the eyes right.”

“I’ll fucking say.” Buggy whisperer back, grimacing as he continued to stare into the soulless orbs. “How does she know what you look like then? She? It?” 

“She, as the story goes. She’s latching onto your thoughts and recreating what you see.” A hypothesis, based only on the legends she’d grown up on. “You only looked away for a moment, I don’t think she got to finish.” 

The subject of their conversation scraped her nails against the door, prying at their attentions. “You took my garden, now I’m free. Why oh why have you unchained me?” 

There were words, words to express and words to negate. If only she could recall them now. “Others sought to own it, mage. Now none shall. I have salted no earth. Regrow.” That was really bad. That didn’t even rhyme. Fuck. 

“The fuck y’all speaking in iambic pentameter for?” The pirate asked under his breath. 

“That’s literally not even close to what we’re doing.” His bedfellow hissed back. 

“…think she’ll go for a threesome?” Truly, truly that sounded hopeful. 

The redhead kicked him in the ankle. “Is everything a joke to you?”

The being interrupted them, their hunting nature warping into something vaguely annoyed. “Return the seeds to me.” 

“Return my safety to me.” Pere countered. 

The creature hummed, starting to waver and wilt. The dog returned, more awful to see than before. It opened its mouth, releasing a thunderous bark, showing far more teeth than there should have been. They would consider it, for now. 

The entity rose onto all fours, clambering off into the distance. As it went further towards the forest, its silhouette seemed to warm and reshape a third time. The new form…a stag? Perhaps? 

That was all the strength Pere had left to stand, and she collapsed to the ground at her lover's feet. The clown lowered the pistol, turning to crouch to her level. “What did you do?” 

Sniffling, she shook her head. “You’ll be mad at me.” 

“Yeah, probably.” No point in false promises, I suppose. “Com’re.” Lifting her to her feet, he caught her a second time as her legs refused to hold her. Problem solving, he lifted her bridal style and carried her to the bedroom— a room with no windows. This context was a lot less fun than the other ones they’d spent time in this room in. 

The bed creaked just slightly as he unceremoniously tossed the woman onto it. “Talk.” The pirate demanded. His tone was neither harsh nor nurturing. Whilst this may have been a traumatic experience for some, Pere included, he was an unnatural thing himself. Defying nature wasn’t exactly a new concept for him. 

“Make me.” The sass was impulsive, though not insincere. 

Leaning forward to rest his hands on the edge bed, Buggy raised an incredulous brow. “…are you asking me to lull you into a sense of false security…with sex?”

“…sure?” 

“Give me a second to brainstorm on that one. “

Chapter Text

This very awkward argument of semantics had been going on for the better part of an hour. Maybe they were distracting themselves from the scene they had just witnessed — maybe communication just wasn’t their strong suit. Or maybe, just maybe, arguing was what felt most natural to them. And they were jarred. Shaken. Off kilter. 

The pirate pressed a sloppy kiss to the neck of the redhead, who was currently trying to wiggle away. Her cheeks were flushed from the force of her laughter. 

“How far are you blushing to? Should I check?” Buggy trapped her in his arms, yanking her collar down past her waist. The woman gave an appreciative ‘hmm’, allowing the wide necked fabric to fall away. 

“Is it working?” He questioned, crystal eyes alight with mirth. “Are you lulled ?” 

“Boo, no!” The jeering was good natured, accompanied by her unsuccessfully trying to push him off her. The soft mass of her breasts bounced in her bustier, drawing his eyes. 

His playfulness became more motivated, the pirate using his unnatural dexterity to unhook the front and free her chest. Her ample bosom spilled loose, jiggling in a way that made her lover absolutely feral. 

“I love the way you fucking bounce , god.” Pinning her hands above her head, the pirate took a nipple into his mouth. Making short work of her skirt, he realized she wasn’t wearing anything else under the dress. “Fuck.” Appraising the softness of her outer thigh, he delivered a quick smack to the flesh there. The rebound worked to create a pleasant recoil across the skin, and she squeaked, startled. 

The redhead had been stripped completely bare, still attempting to get the best of him. She managed to flip herself over onto her stomach, though that hardly made the situation better for her. Though…I suppose that depends on where you're standing. 

In her frenzied attempt to be a formidable wrestling opponent, she’d shifted her body so that her wrists were still clutched in his hand, her back arched and knees bent. This position brought her ass flush against his pelvic, and she could feel his member hardening against her back. The clown knocked her back into contact with the bed with the thrust of his hips. He was laying fully against her back now, immobilizing her. “Talk to me,” he insisted, brushing her hair back from her neck. 

“…I don’t want to fight with you again this soon.” These words were whispered into the mattress, a tone of vulnerability allowed when one refused to meet eyes. 

An attempt was made to keep the conversation light, as Buggy playfully rolled his hips down against her. “Seems like you’re in the perfect position to negotiate.” 

Pere huffed, brushing her foot against the fabric of his pants. “Take these off.” 

Sitting up, he grinned broadly at her, teasing. “Yeah? We both gonna defend the homestead, bare asses flapping in the wind?” Despite the mocking words, he obliged by undoing the sash of his trousers. His belt, shirt, and socks followed. 

The woman had risen to her knees, observing him anxiously. Once he was undressed, she pressed her body against his, melding into his side. For some reason, she was desperate for skin on skin contact. The warmth of his flesh against hers felt divine and comforting, yet someone not arousing as she had expected. 

Touch starvation set in, and she was started as tears started to well up in her eyes. All at once, she realized — she was scared. Really scared. She was in over her head and she was seeking the only physical affection she knew was a sure thing. 

Buggy allowed the contact, confusion evident in the way he held his frame. He relaxed against the mattress, adjusting to suit whatever position she was seeking. The slight trembling of her body did not go unnoticed, but he didn’t comment on it. He wasn’t good with stuff like this. In their jests, he’d assumed her shock had dissipated. 

The shifting stopped as she settled herself against him. The pirate was laying on his side, right arm stretched out beneath him forming a pillow for her head. Copper locks tickled his chin as she tucked her face into the crook of his neck. One of her legs tucked between his near the knee, allowing both of them to fully relax without causing any strain on the muscle. “I thought I did the right thing.” Pere told him softly. 

Buggy snorted, considering that phrasing. “Ain’t no such thing. Y’a can’t know what’ll happen before you do it. That’s why I’m just out here doing shit.” 

There was a pause, a thoughtful silence. The pirate spoke again. “Can’t help y’a fix it if I don’t know what y’a fucked up.”  

Chapter Text

Where to even begin? How deep had the ship sunk without her knowing they were taking on water? “You know how every once in a while someone gets their hands on a devil fruit and it’s this enormous thing, because they’re scattered so far apart and no one knows where they come from?” 

“…wait, is this my fault?” The absolute sincerity in that question made it comical somehow. 

“…I don’t think so?” The woman queried in return. “So. I think I found out where they come from.” 

“What?” One word, complete disbelief. There was no judgment or ire, at least. 

The next part of the story was hard to get out. She was sniffling, and her head hurt a lot. None of her normal coping tactics were working. She never struggled to find words like this. “This isn’t making sense. That thing? I think I knew her. From before.” 

“Before?” 

A memory, romanticized and fantastical, flickered across her mind's eye. 

A road curved around a mossy bend, oak trees stretched high above their heads. They’d been out riding, not far from home, when their horses came to an abrupt stop. The animals huffed and whined, refusing to go a step more. 

Pere dismounted her steed with the help of her mother. 

“They must have heat exhaustion, as we haven’t gone far.” Pere’s mother guessed. “I’m going to find some water. Stay with the horses.” 

“Yes, mother.” The redhead nodded, feeling the hair on the back of her arms raise. It wasn’t a warm day at all. The little girl stared up at the sky; it even looked as though it may rain. 

A fluster of movement to her right caught her eye.  A doe bounded out of the woods, across a large, grassy plain. The child ‘oo’-ed at the animal, admiring the soft look of its fur. She might have tried to approach it, had it not hustled right past her. 

Huh. Well, deer were flighty creatures. 

She always had been too. 

However…the story turned stranger as the deer began to multiply, one by one fleeing the woods, paying the child no mind as they dashed away. The horses behind her began to pull at their leads, eventually ripping the leather from her uncalloused hands and taking off in the opposite direction. 

The redhead was knocked to the ground, covering her head with her hands to avoid being trampled. The deer weren’t bothering to avoid her now, bounding around her, some even leaping over her shaking form. 

As quickly as it began, it was over. 

The forest was still — stiller than she’d ever seen it. No sound reached her ears. It was as if the very wind itself had stopped. “…mama?” Pere called, a nickname that brought her comfort but her mother hated. 

No response. 

A pulse shuddered the ground beneath her, echoing out from the woods. The tree line drew her eye, something sinister lurking behind it. A branch broke high above, crashing through the silence.

A silhouette emerged from the darkness, looming in the distance. The creature was all shapes, a mossy green in color. It reminded her of a patchwork doll, one meant to resemble a deer. The antlers on its head stacked far too high, webbing together like a spiders home. 

The flesh around the creature's face seemed slightly loose, as if worn like a mask. It had pinpoint pupils and a lower jaw that hung too low. The creature heaved, rows of teeth seeming to shift and shed as it moved. 

It turned to look at her. 

The redhead gasped, drawing herself from the especially vivid memory. She pressed her head into his shoulder more tightly. “…when I was a kid. I saw this thing, in the forest. It wasn’t looking for me, at the time. It was going somewhere, struggling to make it there. It was like it’s skin was degrading the longer it used it for.” 

“Eww.” The pirate supplied, indulging in the mental image. 

Pere smiled at his easy humor. “I told my mother about it when she came to find me, and she shook me, and told me to never look into the eyes of a witch. Because they remember forever.” There was too much information to cover in a single conversation. “I think that was the same person.” 

“She must be old as fuck now.” The clown reasoned, puckering his lips out thoughtfully. “Y’a scared of some old lady?” 

“They grow more powerful with time…” 

“Shit.” Buggy’s expression soured even more deeply. “Whelp. Wait — what does that have to do with devil fruit?” 

 “Anthony—“ she began.

“Rest in pieces.” The snark cut her off. 

The woman took a breath, beginning again. “Anthony took me to this place in town once, a secret orchard. It had every type of Devil fruit and then some.” 

Had he been drinking something, the clown would have did a spit take. “Huh? What are we doing here? Lead the way! Shit’s worth a fortune!” 

“I burned it down.” Barely a whisper. 

“Come again?” Her lover stilled, leaning his ear closer to her. There was a warning in his body language, as if he’d be able to ward off anything he didn’t want to hear. 

“I burned it down.” 

Chapter Text

“No, no, no.” Buggy chanted to himself, sitting up in bed, facing the wall. “You’re going to be rational about this, Buggy. Thoughtful. Patient.” Whatever internal argument that was manifesting itself out loud — it sounded like he was losing. 

“Arghhhhh!” The clown stressed, pulled at his hair. “Look,” he spun around, “I’m furious with you — that could have been a game changer for me, b-but I realizeeee,” his eyes got really wide at that, his teeth gritting in a tangible struggle, “I wasn’t here when you found out about it, and no doubt that fuck nut journeyman got in your head about it. So I’ll be chill. Chill, chill, chill.” 

Resisting the urge to edge away, Pere nodded complacently. Honestly, she had accepted the fact that she could be on the verge of getting the shit beat out of her. Domestic violence (could she call it that?) kind of seemed out of character for the pirate, but the key word here was pirate . She’d fucked up. Fucked up in a way that was only palatable when she was sure her lover would never find out about it. 

“We’ll figure it out,” the blue haired man reasoned, more to himself than to her, “GOD! I just want to smack you across the mouth…this is unbearable!”

The redhead stayed silent, trying to trust him to process the emotions himself. The fact that he was even putting forth the effort was endearing in its own way. 

The Captain slapped either side of his own face, attempting to settle himself. He took a deep breath in, then deadpanned to her. “You’re gonna have to turn me on.” 

“…excuse me?” The woman asked incredulously. 

“Listen, doll, I’m boiling right now. So either we fight or we fuck. And trust me, you can only take me in one of those scenarios.” The meditation, zen, yoga whatever bullshit wasn’t doing anything productive for his brain at the moment. 

“Uh. Okay.” They were both still naked, so a strip tease was kind of out of the question. Feeling really put on the spot, she got on her knees. Rocking against the bed, she made a point of making her breasts and thighs wiggle performatively. It was kind of embarrassing, because she wasn’t particularly turned on. She was scared/scared, not scared/horny. “Is this doing anything?” 

The pirate checked in with his flaccid member. “Not really.” 

The woman clenched her teeth, rubbing her hands together. “I feel like every time I get you hard, it’s kinda by accident.” 

Buggy scrunched his nose, still seething. He was minutely shaking, but forcing himself to be engaged in what she was saying. The instinct to lash out was almost unbearable. But he liked her pretty little face, and body, and he didn’t want to bloody her up like that. So they were at a crossroads. 

“I mean…” his lover reasoned, “you could hurt me. Like, sexually? And I could pretend not to like it?” 

“The fuck you mean pretend , you psychopath?” The bubbling up of emotion spilled over, mixing with self righteous humor. 

Pere sputtered, jaw dropping. “I don’t know why I’m like this!! I don’t want to get in a street fight with you, sure, but does the idea of you spanking my ass bloody get me going? Hell yeah!” 

Almost against his will, that imagery sent a rush of blood to his cock. “Oh—oooh, that did something. Yeah, I wanna do that. Get over here.” 

They were on the same page, his agreement sending a twist of pleasure through her body. She scrambled over, draping herself over his lap, ass up. 

“Stop smiling!” The clown snapped, palming one of her lower cheeks in his hand. “We’re acting like you don’t want this, remember?” 

“Yessir.” The grin was persistent, and she had to bite her tongue to get it to subside.

“Captain.” Buggy growled at her. 

“Yes, Captain.” The excitement swirling up in her gut begged her to play along, knowing he needed the illusion of control. He had no healthy coping mechanisms, but by the seas, if he wasn’t trying to take a step down from murder and ritualistic torture. 

The first strike created such a pulse of twisted pleasure that the woman had to close her eyes so the pirate wouldn’t see them rolling back in her head. He spanked her a second time, harder, and the lewd sensation went straight through her core. Alternating between using his fingers, palm, and the back of his hand, the session continued until her ass felt nearly raw, the delectable pain causing her cunt to weep her essence abundantly. 

It worked, in a sense, to calm him down, as the blood shifted away from fueling his temper and focused on filling up his pulsing member. Spearing his fingers into her, he focused on the familiar slide of her walls against his skin. “God, you’re like a faucet down here, you fucking freak.” He swore at her, shuddering at the reaction the brutality was having on her. 

“Sorry—“ was all she managed to respond, choking back her sighs of pleasure to the best of her ability. 

“Fuck it,” his lover yelped as he yanked her off his lap with a firm grip on her thigh, looping her legs around his shoulders. This position left her dangling, helplessly searching for purchase. 

The only thing she could manage was resting her elbows on his thighs below her. Her breasts bounced freely, the reversal of gravity putting her on full display. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as the clown buried his face between her legs, drinking from her. 

Chapter Text

“I’m doing better things with my life now,” the pirate claimed, inspecting his fingernails as he leaned back against the pillows, “I’m mature, I’m rational, I’m calm. I’m ready to talk about it.” 

His lover nodded, eyes half lidded, drool coming from the corners of her mouth, and tear stains on her cheeks. She sat in the middle of the bed, in a low position on her knees. The disembodied cock of her conversation partner pulsed inside her, periodically ramming particularly violently into her cunt. Her aching cervix could find no end in sight. 

The disconnected intimacy wasn’t fully engaging her senses. The woman swirled her tongue around her own fingers, palming her breast with her other hand. At first, she was happy to take his ire in this way, but he was nearly an hour into edging her and she was on the verge of passing out. “Please—“ Pere began. What appeal could she even make at this point? 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you can come here.” Buggy accepted dismissively, opening his arms to her. The woman collapsed into them. She rubbed her cheek to his chest, chasing the fleeting feeling of safety it offered. This wasn’t simple cock warming as the majority of time that the member had been within her, it was moving. Her theory was that he only eased off of her when he was about to cum himself, so that he could keep torturing her. 

As if on cue, the disembodied appendage began fucking her again with a passion. A desperate noise slipped from her mouth, reminding him of her discomfort. “Get comfy.” The clown told her, entertained. Allowing her to relax some of her muscles was as far as his mercy went. “Anyways — supernatural fruit trees, y’a set the place on fire, witch was guarding the place, now she’s after you. That about cover it?” 

Eyes round and helpless, Pere could only nod. Her restless movements against him seemed to sate his anger for the moment. The more she struggled and squirmed, the calmer the Buggy appeared to be. His open dialogue continued. “So it’s gone? You didn’t save any fruit or anything?” 

There was the olive branch she needed; something she could use. “No—“ the woman panted, “I took seeds from each of the trees—“ 

“Yeah?” The pirate palmed her ass, interested. “Back up plan, I like it. Where are they?” 

“In—under the floorboar—ds.” The edging made it very difficult to speak, the wet slapping of his member within her all she could focus on. 

“Well?” This persona wasn’t that of her constantly out of depth lover, but that of the vicious captain who ruled his portion of the Blue with an iron fist. “Go get ‘em.” 

Tears were rolling down her cheeks. Her pupils were so blown out her grey eyes seemed black. “C—can…—I,” her inner walls clenched, anxiety building surrounding the climax she was quickly approaching. Was this going to be yet another moment where he denied her completion? 

“Can you what?” Buggy asked sharply, taking her chin firmly between two fingers. “Use your words.” 

“C—can I c-cum first?” She stuttered.

Spite twisted her lover’s lips into a self serving smile. “Oh? But baby, you’re so cute like this. Ain’t acting up for two fucking seconds of your life.” Despite the menace, he wedged one hand between them to play with her clit. 

There was an end in sight, but Pere knew it was conditional on her playing her cards very, very carefully. “I’ll be good—“ she begged, “I’ll do whatever you want, please, please, please—-“ 

“How’mi supposed to believe that, huh? I can’t even count on this—“ the pressure against her center increased, causing her legs to shudder and shake, “—to motivate y’a anymore.” 

The woman’s sobs intensified. “You can, you can, you can—“ 

There was a coldness in his bright eyes, a twisted sense of control that didn’t match his mirthful expression. “Oh? And why’s that?” 

So overwhelmed, it was a tangible battle to recall what he wanted to hear in moments like this. “‘Cause—cause I’m yours, I’m yours, please, I’m yours, plea—se!” 

“Fuck yeah you are. And you love me, huh? You’re obsessed with me, huh? I’m all you ever think about.” A boon, something familiar she could latch onto — his persistent need for praise. 

His cock reattached to his body, though the pace at which he was fucking her didn’t slow. Forcefully, he rolled his hips against her overworked center. She’d be sore for a week, minimum. “I love youuuu—“ the redhead whined, straining against his grip to try to kiss him. The clown denied her, inspecting her countenance for sincerity. 

“You’re on thin fucking ice, okay?” Buggy conceding, a little more giving but no less threatening. 

Pere nodded, attempting not to appear too hopeful. 

“Alright.” Her lover tutted. “Cum, then, y’a lunatic.”

That was all the woman needed, seizing up against him as she fell into oblivion. Her panting, mewling, and screaming was deeply gratifying to the clown’s sadism. It slated his blood lust in a new way, having her body and mind completely at his mercy. 

Finally relaxing, he allowed his ecstasy to chase her own. As he allowed his seed to fill her, he contemplated what methods he would be forced to utilize to ensure he could keep her, permanently. 

Chapter Text

“I swear, I fucking swear, you so much as look at another man when we’re in town, I’m putting you on a goddamn leash—noooo, no, stop, stop acting turned on, this is a fucking warning—“ though the free flow of threats wasn’t the most rose colored scenario, it made her feel a bit more like a person than she had in a while. 

Unfortunately, that opened the door for self doubt to start creeping right back in. 

They were getting dressed, becoming presentable for the meetings about supplies and for Pere to play the role of the grieving widow. 

The woman stared at her reflection in the mirror, experimenting with putting her hair up and down. Neither seemed quite right. How long had it been since she’d really looked at herself? There was bruising under her upper lip. She didn’t remember how it had gotten there. Had she been eating outside the dinner dates? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d drank any water either. 

Was she self-destructing again? Did it matter? The only people she was around right now wouldn’t know the difference, right? They couldn’t possibly have any solid expectations for someone in her situation. Alvida might catch on. But Pere couldn’t imagine her intervening on her behalf. What were her outlets right now? 

The woman snuck a peak at her lover, who was attempting to tame his wild blue hair into a faux aristocratic ponytail. The semi-altered pirate gear showed his figure without being overly form fitting. That frame wasn’t one that came from hauling goods. It came from fighting to stay alive. 

“Does it bother you?” She asked, impulsively. 

Buggy checked his teeth in the opposite mirror, inspecting for imperfections. “Does what bother me?” 

Her reflection grimaced, drawing inwards. “That I just…want sex all the time.” Copper locks twisted between her fingers. 

The clown let out a surprised chuckle. Consumed with his own fussing, he didn’t look over at her. “Is that way of telling me you want to go again?”

Fuck . Did it seem like that? That wasn’t what she meant at all. “Never mind.” She murmured, blinking back tears. What did she have that was stable, now? What did she have to ground herself? The moisture around her eyes grew thicker, clouding her vision.  

It took her lover a few moments to notice her upset. Strong hands were placed on her shoulders, turning her around. “Hey hey hey hey—“ the clown searched her face, slightly panicked, “I’m just being an ass, y’a know. What was the question?” 

“Does—“ she hiccuped, trying to override the upset with numbness. “Does it bother you that I want sex all the time?”

To his credit, he really considered his wording. “Baby,” Buggy began, “you have some serious emotional issues, but I’d be lying if it didn’t cheese the hell outta me to know that no one else can keep up with you.” 

“Really?” The woman brightened, “for real?” 

“Yeah. I mean, my dick is fucking tired , even with the inability to chafe.” He winced, not liking the mental image. “I can’t imagine the way you’d terrorize some poor sap with factory issue skin.” Something else came to mind, though she couldn’t pinpoint what right away. “Don’t ever try to find out, y’a little shit. I’ll kill ‘em and tan your hide.” 

Pere giggled. The causal mention of murdering her prospective partner wasn’t enough to quell her happiness at his reassurances. Smiling, she hovered her face close enough that she was nose to nose with him. Adoring eyes cataloged his features. 

“What y’a want?” The pirate stroked the back of his hands over her cheeks. “Y’a want a kiss? Something tah eat? What’s going on?” 

“I dunno. I think it’s getting bad again.”

Chapter Text

Anthony’s service brought with it something Pere had fully forgotten to account for — her parents. 

For appearances sake, no doubt, Mr. and Mrs. Wittler had insisted on sitting as close to the apparent widow as possible. Though their bond with their daughter was delicate at best, their son-in-law had been a town favorite and they wanted to maintain those business ties. 

“Oh dearest,” Pere’s mother cried, “you must be so distraught. He was such a good man.” Something in the older woman’s undertones revealed that she knew exactly how her daughter had felt about Tito, but they both played the game well. 

“Of course. Sorry I didn’t reach out. I’ve been pretty inconsolable.” The younger woman agreed, perhaps a bit more flippantly than need be. “May I introduce you to Anthony’s recent business partners, Bradley and Viva?”

That’s right. Rip the bandage off. 

“Bradley, Viva, these are my parents.” Both the pirates were vaguely stunned, their incognito personas slipping for a moment. Buggy seemed vaguely nervous, while Alvida might as well have taken a moment to sound out the word ‘parents’.

Mr. Wittler shook each of their hands, respectively. “Terrible business, this. But some of the best connections are born from tragedy.” 

Anthony, Mr., and Mrs. Wittler had (had had?) one major trait in common — being incredibly rude and disrespectful while maintaining the mannerisms of politeness. At times, some of the barbs they threw out seemed accidentally, as casually as they were said. 

Pere cut in. “My mental health is kind of already in the trenches today, dad. Can we skip the schmoozing?” Might as well scapegoat the dead husband thing as much as she possibly could. 

Mrs. Wittler gasped dramatically. “My poor baby! You’ve had such a shock. Come, sit, sit.” 

And that’s how Pere ended up sandwiched between her father and mother on one side, and Buggy and Alvida on the other. Some religious figure droned on and on about where the spirit goes after the body died, and the majority of the people there tuned him out. The widow’s stomach hurt. What did you call the anxiety you had from attending the funeral of someone you’d murdered? It wasn't survivor’s guilt. There probably wasn’t a word for it. 

She wished no one there knew her. Then she could peer pressure Buggy into holding her hand, and hear Alvida monologue about handgun recoil statistics throughout the ages. The skin on her forehead felt tight. It would make sense to cry, but she’d been doing that so much lately, and in the setting of so many different emotions. So the widow just stared blankly ahead, attempting not to absorb any information. 

The service was over soon enough. At some point, the redhead had started to doze slightly. Buggy not-so-accidentally jostled her leg as he stood up. “Is there a reception?” Alvida asked. Wasn’t that just for weddings? 

“I dunno. I’d rather skip it, honestly. I want to go back to bed.” Pere explained. Her mother started to protest, however, a familiar voice cut her short. 

“Pereira!” Argent shoved her way through the crowd; her all black jumpsuit still had an industrial vibe. “—are you alright? I can’t even hazard a guess as to what Tito was doing being in the square during all that. The guy wasn’t known for grand gestures.” 

“Excuse me?” Mrs. Wittler contended shrilly. “I think we would know—“ 

“Mother.” Whatever tyraid she’d been brewing was cut short. “Can I talk to you about something?”

The older woman was reluctant. The need to maintain appearances ultimately won out again. “Of course sweetheart, let’s go into the sitting room.” 

The funeral home had a variety of guest spaces that attendees were allowed to occupy, if only to keep the open bawling to a minimum. The two Wittler women ducked off into a medium sized one of these rooms, settling themselves on a cryptically colored sofa. 

The younger of the two began pouring tea into peach tinted glassware. “I wanted to ask you about that old urban legend you told me about when I was a kid.” 

“Hmm?” Her mother accepted the glass of tea, musing. “The one about the bear on the side of the cliff?” 

Pere smiled despite herself. “No, I remember that one. I’m looking for the one about the woman who changed shapes.” 

“That old wives tale? Parents just tell their kids that to keep them inside at night.” The tea was bitter, much like the older woman’s tone. 

“Can I hear the grown up version?” 

“Huh. Well. It’s not much different. Campfire story. 1000 miles of flesh. Essentially, this young woman, Azea,’s lover makes a deal with an all powerful deity to defy the laws of nature, but at the cost of being chained to the forest for all of eternity. The lover accepts, and Azea mourns them their freedom.” The mother shrugged. 

“Eventually, she decides to sacrifice herself to free them.  She vows to stand in one spot for all of time, to ensure that no one else makes the same deal. But as time goes on, the forest grows smaller. Eventually, Azea only has a small patch of land to guard. Legend says, when that place loses the last of its branches, she will be free again.” 

The daughter considered this a long moment. “Isn’t that good, then? She’d be happy, right?” 

This part of the story was difficult for either of them to recall. “Well, no.” Mrs. Wittler eventually remembered the end to the story. “The couple came to resent each other, eventually. Azea wanted to go back on the deal, but the deity wouldn’t accept it. So Azea started wearing the skins of any animals unfortunately enough to cross her path and trying to sneak from the garden to free herself. All that blood and misfortune eventually turned her into something no one could recognize.” 

“So, she would emerge from the land evil, should she be freed?” The younger woman clarified. 

“Not evil. Just angry.” 

Chapter Text

Buggy, Alvida, and Mr. Wittler stood in a half circle, making what the latter was sure was pleasant conversation. The clown was forcing himself to half listen, and the Latina was becoming more openly combative with each thinly veiled insult the businessman threw out. 

“Oh, yeah. That girl was always a bit of a hassle to deal with. Big opinions, always arguing. I was relieved when she married Tito and he tamed her down a bit.” The concept of misogyny was either foreign to Pere’s father, or he simply didn’t care that he was exhibiting it. 

“Times have changed, certainly.” Alvida raised a brow, the set of her jaw growing more irate. “When I was a girl, they just called that having an imagination.” 

“No, no.” Mr. Wittler denied. “It was beyond that. We’d get calls from her school all the time telling us about some brawl she started. Just…deep seated emotional issues. Very poor judgment.” 

“That tracks.” Alvida shot back to the last part of the statement, eyeing Buggy pointedly. He glared back at her. 

“Why’a say that?” The clown finally cut in, side-eyeing the older man in distaste. 

“Well,” the older man stroked his chin, eager for the chance to complain, “other little girls, they’d dislike something, or they liked it. Not Pereira. She either hated something or she was absolutely obsessed with it. There was never any in between at all. She’d fixate and fixate and fixate on something until she’d realize what she was doing and try to get rid of it entirely.” 

“Oh?” That was very contrary to either pirates impression of the woman in question. 

“Ran away to be a bounty hunter.” The businessman scoffed,  “Then she shows up at our door, years down the line, and we think —of course, she never sticks to anything. She’s always been a flight risk.” Buggy let out a near silent noise of affirmation. “I’m surprised she stuck with him until death, like they say in the vows. Only had to make it a year, but still.” Callousness was creeping through in full force.  

“What was it before that?” Mr. Wittler scowled, “Oh yeah, she wanted to be a singer. Lost her voice before the town play, never sang another note. It’s gotta be perfect or she burns the whole thing down.” 

Alvida cocked her head, looking down her nose at the man. “They say fire means rebirth. I’ve never minded cross burning to flush out the rot.” 

Pere’s father opened his mouth to contradict the statement. However, it must have sent some sort of mythical signal through the air, because Pere and her mother reappeared right then. 

“Ready to go?” The redhead asked the undercover pirates, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her black mourning dress. 

“Go?” Her mother inquired. “Why are you going anywhere with them? I didn’t think you had a hand in Anthony’s business ventures.” 

“They were a great help during the raid, mother. I just want to feel safe.” There was one thing Pere knew how to do flawlessly and that was to call her mother’s bluff. Mrs. Wittler narrowed her eyes at the trio, suspecting something she couldn’t put her finger on. “Either way…” the daughter continued, “I’m going now.” 

The beginnings of a panic attack were clawing at the redhead's throat, her pride being the only thing holding back waterworks. She wasn’t scared, or especially sad — she was emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed. Was Alvida her friend? Was Buggy her boyfriend? Did anyone have a complete picture of anything about her? 

The side door of the funeral home crashed into the wall behind her. Pere kept walking, tearing out the stupid little frill of fabric that held her collar in place. She couldn’t breathe with the high neck. “Can they go one fucking day without being judge mental and manipulative? Good god.” 

Alvida and Buggy fell into step on either side of her, their taller statures allowing them to keep up with ease. “Your parents seem to be strong willed, I see where you get it from.” Alvida commented, neither a compliment or an insult. 

“They’re dickheads.” The mechanic turned abruptly, crowding the clown into a nearby alley and pressing her lips to his. While he had the advantage of size and strength — he in no way or shape saw that coming. She kissed him fiercely, out of sight of any prying eyes, and immediately resumed walking. 

Buggy stood wide eyed for a moment, frozen in place. Far be it from him to pretend to understand women, but what the fuck was that for? 

Oddly enough, the action seemed to make perfect sense to Alvida, who never broke stride. “We’ve really delayed as much as we can. Will you be packed and ready in the morning?” The Latina questioned the redhead. 

The shorter woman was walking at as brisk a pace as she could manage, putting space between herself and her family. “I haven’t thought about it. I’ve had no time.” 

“He’s not going to let you stay.” The lady captain referred, of course, to her co-Captain that was standing gobsmacked some dozen paces behind them. “Besides, you’re clearly obsessed with each other. What’s stopping you?” 

“I just have this thing, in my head.” Mental illness, most likely. “Every time I get close to having anything I really want, I just have to ruin it. I don’t want to be trapped in the middle of the sea if that happens again.” 

“You act like we all don’t do that sometimes. By the seas, please. Take the clown.” The female captain was really offering him up like a newborn sheep for slaughter. “He’s driving me up the wall.” 

“Hey!” Buggy yelled somewhere behind them. “What was that for?” 

Delayed reaction much?

Chapter Text

Salt water air freshened the breeze. Pere stood in the upper deck of the large ship, tracing her hands along the familiar railing. The periwinkle dress fell loosely around her curvaceous frame. A criss cross of strings formed a bodice around her waist, the linen of the skirt flowing down to mid calf. The woman was a far cry more prepared than she had been the prior time she’d been dragged aboard, taking the time to pack some essentials into a burlap satchel. 

That being said, she hadn’t brought along any of her old clothing. The boardwalk of the town the ship was docked in had summery clothing shops; she’d used her berry sparingly to purchase a few outfits that were a blend of her preferences and what her pirate boyfriend liked to see her in. 

The man in question emerged from below deck, grease paint restored to its rightful place upon his face. Buggy had traded in the toned down colors of his prior attire for his circus reds and whites. 

“Hoist the sails high!” Alvida boomed, several layers of leather more equipped. The clothes didn’t make the pirate, sure, but they both looked a lot more regal wearing their tricornes. 

“Cast and crew—“ the clown settled comfortably back into barking orders, “team meeting, 1700 hours! We have to talk rehearsals.” 

A disgruntled murmur ricocheted through the restless crew. Buggy insisted on a collective ‘aye aye!’ prior to allowing them to continue about their day. 

“Hey,” the male captain strolled up beside his lover, drawing her attention. “Come see me in my office. I need you to look over some materials.” 

“Oh?” Pere inquired, instinctively flirty. “Like, in your pants?” 

He groaned, pinching his temple. “Yeah, yeah. I walked into that one. Do me a favor and read the first couple pages before you resort to dry humping me.” Crystal eyes dropped to her lips, then flickered back to her eyes, then back again. The moment of consideration seemed to drag on forever, then he delivered a swift peck to the redhead’s lips before sauntering away. 

The casualness of the gesture was off balancing, core shaking (in both the sweet and pervy way), and endearing. Pere traced a finger along her own lips, starstruck. By the seas, she had it bad. It had been over a year since she met him and he still gave her butterflies in her stomach. And…other places. 

A few errands needed her attention prior to stopping by the far Captain quarters, so it was about 1200 hours before she made it there. Buggy had his boots propped up on a wooden stool, reclining in his office chair. A stack of papers, scrolls, and a couple books littered the desktop. Storyboards cluttered the chairs on the other side of the desk. 

“Oh, shit, let me move that.” The clown glanced up, realizing his work space had been steadily expanding. 

“Do you want me sit across from you?” The lack of ambiguity between them felt rigid and almost cold. 

“Uhhh…” Buggy paused, “I figured…you’d want your space every now and again.” 

The woman picked at her fingernails. “Is this because you’re worried I might get handsy?” 

Shifting, the pirate tugged the fabric of his pant leg, trying to make more space in them. “It’s kinda because…I’m still hard from what you said earlier.” 

Silence stretched out between them. 

A moment passed, then they both burst out laughing. Pere rounded the desk, draping herself into Buggy’s lap. Her lips found his, breathing him in like surfacing from underwater. She resisted the urge to escalate the sensation. The promise to really consider the work to be done stood. 

“What are these?” The largest stack of papers was composed of sheet music. “I thought the intro music was instrumental?” 

“They’re for you.” The clown grinned, snatching up the top layer to hold it in plain view. 

“The chords are a little at odds with the lyrics…” the redhead observed, reaching back in her memory for her ability to understand what the notes meant. 

Her lover tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Change ‘em. I ain’t married to any of it.”

“Well, whoever’s singing it could maybe make it work.” 

“Can you?” 

“Can I what?” The implications were going right over her head. 

“Can you make it work?” He pressed further. 

“Buggy…” the redhead began, “I don’t sing.” 

The clown used his thumb to tilt her chin towards him. “Your dad said it was your childhood dream.” 

Pere sighed, mood spoiled. “I was in choir for like, ten minutes. I was bad at it so I practiced a lot. It’s not the same thing.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that.” The showman in him took control. “Perform for me.”

“Oh, I’ll give you a show if you want a show.” Her attempt at changing the topic was to fall back into her comfort zone, which was communicating physically. The woman smoldered at him from under her lashes. 

“I’m serious. Sing for me.” 

Chapter Text

Muscle memory was a funny thing, especially in regards to strength built as a child. Drawing from her diaphragm was easy enough. Maintaining enough air throughout each note was second nature. But matching pitch? That was a struggle. 

“🎵 flinch, oo, ah — that’s what you came for.
You’ll scream, you’ll sigh, what a guy, what a guy—“ her voice cracked, falling to match what was written for the third time. The song would start out right, then she’d get in her head about it and she’d end up way off base. 

Pere wasn’t confident in her singing ability. It had been years since she even hummed a tune for fun. 

“C’monnnn-“ the Captain whined, the director in him unable to take it easy on her. While they likely wouldn’t perform for a while, his restlessness wouldn’t allow for the show to get out of practice. “You’re barely tryin.” 

The redhead furrowed her brow. “I am too! I’m just overthinking it, I’ll get it. If I don’t think about it, it sounds fine.” 

“Well, an audience is just gonna make that worse. Snap outta it.” Tough love, or just tough luck? 

“It might!” She protested. “You don’t know.”

“Ughhhhh…” the clown groaned, following up with a scoff. “So what? Y’a need a distraction? Fine.” 

Strong hands lifted her from his lap, sitting her up on the edge of the desk facing him. The pirate presented her the sheet music once more, forcing her to hold it. “I mean, looking at you helps but—“ whatever she had in mind to say was halted by the feel of gloved fingers sliding up her calf. “—oh.” 

Gripping either side of her knees, Buggy spread her legs wide. He rolled her skirt up to her waist, tucking it into the crease where her thighs began to taper inward. Using the middle part of her undergarments, he removed them to where they were hanging useless from one of her ankles. 

Scooting forward in his chair, the clown issued one word — “Sing.” prior to dipping his head to ghost hot air over her center. Only when she began attempting the notes again did he make contact, pressing his tongue flat against her clit. 

It was the sweetest torture, and she leaned one hand behind her on the desk as she examined the sheet music with the other. The pitch problem did improve — but her breathing control went to shit. Not for lack of trying, because every time she paused mid-line, her lover would pull back from stimulating her. 

Punishment, reward, punishment, reward. Pere mentality crossed her fingers, hoping if she gave a good enough performance that the encore would her being bent over his work surface and fucked. Something in his demeanor, the smiles, smirks, and smolders, told her that Buggy knew what she was hoping for. 

His tongue circled her clit, then passed down her folds to dip inside of her. The combination of suction, warmth, and wetness had her eyes rolling back in her head, and her practicing the music from recent memory. They continued like this for some time, eventually the pirate receding and making commentary. “See? You can do it. You kept your pitch an entire go through. Just practice like that.”

The causal tone of his voice ignited her temper. “Practice like what? A crying, pleading mess?” 

The clown’s grin widened, a little bit mischievous. “I’d add screaming in there, but that’s just for me.” 

“What the fu—“ no chance to finish the complaint, as Pere found herself shoved backwards onto the desk. Paperwork and sketches went tumbling onto the floor. The sound of fabric shifting met her ears as her perception balanced out. 

The woman’s irate tone immediately did a 180 as she felt the head of his hardened cock positioning at her entrance. “Mm~” her pleasured intonation spurred her lover on, prompting him to sink fully into her. “Yes, baby, yes, that’s so good!” 

“You know,” the blue haired man teased her, pulling his member nearly completely out only to slam it back into her. “My feedback and coaching is very sought after. I think you should be acting a little more grateful.” 

Her sassy response caught in her throat. Predicting her combativeness, her lover rolled his hips sharply to brush against that sweet spot within her. “T-thank you!” Pere whined, “fuck, fuck, thank you! You’re so brilliant, I-I love you! I love you, I love you, I love you!” 

Buggy preened under the praise. One of his strong arms held her hips in place as he further catered to her. His thumb found her clit, rubbing sharply against it, while the nonstop progress of his cock shook her frame. The desk creaked and groaned against the ship’s baseboards. 

Many would refer to their habits as mindless, nonsense fucking, but the clown was smarter than the general public gave him credit for. And his girlfriend (a recent upgrade from ‘lover’ in his own mind) specifically got mean when she hadn’t cum recently. No point in being intentionally dense about it. It was a fun problem to have. 

Speaking of cumming, Pere let out a low keening as she reached completion. The spasming and pulsing of her inner walls milked him, prompting him to empty his load into her. The clown nuzzled his nose into her hair, inhaling deeply. The easy affection was comfortable, relaxing. More than most sea fairies could hope for. He’d bask in the peace for a few moments more, enjoying it while it lasted. 

Chapter Text

“You are not to leave this room under any circumstance, got it?” Buggy had his hand around Pere’s throat, resolutely resisting her attempts to make the action horny. 

“Oh my god.” The woman whined. “Is the world going to explode if I step out the cabin doors?” 

“Hey!” The clown shook her slightly, shaking his pointer finger on his other hand at her. “I’m not joking!” 

Pere tried her best to lick his finger. “Or…what?? You’ll punish me? Fingers crossed.” 

Buggy groaned, in an exasperated way, not in a turned on way. “Can you just promise?” 

“I swear.” The woman promised cheekily. “On my honor as a soldier.” 

“Good, good—wait.” Crystal eyes narrowed, glaring at her. “You were never a soldier, you little shit!” 

The exchange stretched on for the better part of an hour. The woman wasn’t sure what was awaiting them in the next leg of their journey, but it certainly had her lover on edge. Prior planning wasn’t exactly his strong suit, and she’d never seen him so nervous about events to come before. Sure, there were monsters on the grand line, but he was a super powered mega villain or whatever, right? What was lurking out there that was so crazy?

Or…who? 

Every time the crew talked about the grand line, they referenced one of what seemed like a dozen organizations Buggy was a member of, or had been at one point. Which was strange, because he didn’t strike her as the most sociable person. He was always writing letters, reports, etc, but where did they go when he finished them? Who was on the other end of all those midnight communicator calls? How much did she not understand about the world of pirates?

Anyways, this was what led to her boredly flipping through stacks of posters and reports while laying in Buggy’s bunk. Ugh. So boring. They had dropped anchor somewhere of the coast of a large gathering on some random islands somewhere, though that was all she could manage to discover through context clues peering out the port hole. The lifeboat had departed the ship with Alvida, Buggy, and a little group of representatives around an hour before. 

Pere sighed, tossing the papers she’d been inspected on the shelf next to the bunk. Being told she couldn’t go somewhere just made her want to go there more. 

A sharp knock on the door was a welcome relief from her restlessness, and she bounced across the room to answer the call. “Hello?” She swung the door open to reveal Mallow standing there. 

Mallow grinned, sultry as she draped herself across the doorframe. “I saw lover boy go to shore, you’re a free agent, huh?” 

“Sort of? I’m confined to the room.” Pere ushered her in, plopping down cross legged on the bunk. 

The stunning pirate climbed in after her; she had a bottle of rum hanging loosely from her fingers and a bowl of fruit. “That’s bullshit. What are you, 12? He’s just nervous of you meeting someone he knows and it knocks him off the pedestal you keep him on.” 

“Who??” The redhead burst out, accepting the orange that was handed to her. “Everyone says I have this skewed opinion of Buggy, but I have yet to see anything that comes close to changing my mind about him.” 

“I don’t really remember names like that. But from what I hear— to lower level pirates, Captain Buggy is like this crazy powerful enigma. But to those on his level?” Mallow tugged at a lock of her own perfectly curled hair. “He’s an overly emotional loser who never lets anything go. But you didn’t hear that last part from me.” 

“So what?” The redhead flopped down into a pile of pillows. “I wish he’d trust me to make my own judgments. But then like…I’m also like my own worst enemy.” 

The other woman was silent for a moment, then looked mischievous. “I mean…only one way to show you won’t fold to peer pressure.”

“Which is…?”

“To show up and prove it.” The suggestion was accompanied by a giggle. 

“I think you’re just trying to cause problems on purpose again.” Pere frowned. 

Okay. 

Okayyyyyy.

Maybe she did it anyways. 

The walk underwater was barely a trek, close enough to land that there weren’t any crazy creatures below to worry about. The breather strips didn’t keep an outfit dry, and Pere had purposely changed into linen and hemp that would dry quickly with a little sun. She pulled her damp hair out of the protective braid she’d thrown it back into as she surfaced from the water. 

The island was bustling with activity, the participants in the event all manner of shapes and sizes. Fishmen mingled openly with sheepmen and humans alike. Many of the faces in the crowds were recognizable from wanted posters in various towns. Pirates really did have a strong sense of style. Birds of paradise seemed to be a very popular theme. 

None of them paid her any mind, high ranking enough to know that just because a woman might seem feeble at first glance didn’t mean she was. The soggy feeling of her shoes was receding quickly in the bright sunlight. At a loss for what else to do, the woman turned towards where she could see buildings in the distance and started to walk. 

Chapter Text

The soft pink of Pere’s dress had returned to its normal hue, perhaps slightly lighter from the salt and the sun. The heat of the sun had promptly her hair to lightly curl up from the slick straightness the water had afforded it. She could easily pass for someone who had come to shore the normal way, though it was hard to identify what crew she belonged to. Circus-core would probably never actually be her thing. 

Boisterous chatter filtered out into the street, signaling that the structure to her right was some sort of pub or restaurant. That was as good a place to start as any. The local drunks could always be counted on to have the best gossip. And it might be worth the inevitable cat calling she would face inside. The mechanic didn’t think she was exactly irresistible— but she had tits and ass and hair long enough to grab and many pirate crews were exclusively male. Being at sea that long without the presence of the opposite sex did something to the brain. 

“Hey lady.” The comment came the moment Pere stepped through the threshold. That had to be an all time record. A tall, olive skinned man swayed slightly as he pushed himself off the wall, drink still in his hand. His grin was charming, friendly. Sandy blonde hair draped low over a headband bearing the letters YASSOP. Was that supposed to be a name? His name? That was so frickin lame. 

The woman ignored him in favor of scanning the bar for any hint of familiar blue hair, or perhaps the sight of Alvida’s shiny black curls. No luck. 

“Hey,” the stranger tried again, staggering over to her. It was clear he was already deep in the drink. “Hey pretty lady. I like you.” 

“Thanks.” The woman humored, offering him a tight smile. “I’m kind of busy.” 

“Noooo.” The man sighed, trying to take her hand with his. “What’s the hurry? The world will wait.” 

Cute. Really cute. 

It didn’t do anything for her though. “No thanks.” 

‘YASSOP’ pouted, clearly not ready to give up quite yet. His crew mates, who had been watching his failure, strolled up in support. 

“Come now, Yassop. The lady clearly has standards that you simply don’t live up to.” The pirate's friend slung an arm around his neck, joking and jostling him at the same time. “Isn’t that right love?”

The new arrival, a naturally flirty and sweet light to his voice, turned his attention to her. He had hair a similar color to hers, though hers was noticeably more copper. Three scars stretched over one of his hazel eyes, skin kissed by the sun. A gentleman, it seemed. 

Curse her instinctual need to be polite. “I have a boyfriend.” She offered, attempting to weave around them to see into the next room. 

The men, five in number now, exchanged a look before dissolving into laughter. “You hear that boys?” A man with gray hair spoke. “She’s got a boyfriend !” 

A dark skinned man with goggles atop his bandana snickered the hardest. “I’m quaking in my boots. The boy’ll have a word with us, lads!” 

“Hey, hey!” The red haired man protested. “Let’s not be disrespectful.” The tanned man released Yassop, sauntering her way. “I hear you…I do. But is your boyfriend a captain?” The challenge was clearly what was enticing this new arrival. 

Pere tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, avoiding his eyes. “Yeah, actually.” 

“Oh?” Something changed in his tone. “Do I know him?” 

“Couldn’t tell you.” The woman stated dismissively. “I don’t know who you are.” 

“Oh.” The red haired man smoothed his shirt down, fixing the collar before extending his hand in an attempt to shake hers. “How rude of me. I’m Sha—“ 

The last syllable was lost as a force clamped around her jaw, a sharp tug dragging her back towards the entrance of the pub. Vaguely, she perceived at least three of the men reacting, attempting to snatch her away from whatever was pulling her, but they were too slow. Besides, Pere had an inkling of what was happening. 

Buggy’s hand reattached to his wrist, still gripping her face tightly between his fingers. “What part of stay on the fucking ship do you not understand?” Her lover hissed, his familiar rage deeper than she’d seen it recently. 

She’d be lying if she said that didn’t send a jolt of pleasure down below. Focus, c’mon, focus. Girl, you’re about to get your ass kicked if you don’t start groveling asap . 

“Hi baby.” Pere murmured, doing her best to look as sweet and innocent as she could. 

“Don’t you ‘hi baby’ me, asshole.” In his ire, the clown seemed to have forgotten all about keeping their relationship discrete. His other arm looped around her waist, trapping her against his chest, helpless to his interrogation. “You really thought I wouldn’t catch you rubbing up on other men, in this slutty little dress?” 

“Y-you—“ her voice fumbled as her lover tugged at the thin straps of her attire, snapping it back against her skin. “You gave me this. And I’m covered!” The linen fell down to her knees, but she knew the clown well enough to know he was imagining how easy it would be to hike up her skirt and take her. “I wasn’t doing anything!” 

“Buggy?” The inquiry was tentative, and though she couldn’t see the movement behind her, she could hear it. The man she’d just been talking to was taking a stab at diffusing the situation. The safety on several pistols clicked off. “Why don’t you unhand the lady and we can talk about all this?”

“Fuck off, Shanks!” There was venom in the clown’s voice unlike she had heard from him before. The closest malice was that he spoke of the stretchy kid with. “Mind your fucking business!” 

“Come now, old friend. You’re better than this.” Listening to that placating statement made Pere’s skin crawl, and she decided in that moment she didn’t like whoever this ‘Shanks’ was. Better than what, exactly? The dynamic between Pere and Buggy was a cycle of command, disobey, punish, repeat, and she would take her licks like a woman (though she was hoping for literal licks rather than say, lashes). 

“For fuck’s sake—“ the clown spun her around, releasing her jaw but keeping her back pressed firmly against his chest. “Pere, this is Shanks. Shanks, Pere, my wife.” 

Excuse me? Did he just refer to her as his wife ? Why the fuck…oh. Oh. She understood. Arch enemy, or rival, or whatever Shanks was in Buggy’s mind, the clown was hanging a big ole ‘off limits’ sign around her neck. 

Confusion, then warmth, and finally excitement flickered across the other captain's scarred face. “You dirty dog…congratulations! I never received any word of a ceremony, I would have made the trip!”

“Yeah, I didn’t invite you because I hate you, Shanks.” The blue haired man deadpanned, smirking. 

Okay, another reason for the ‘wife’ comment. A playground feud between the two men in the style of exclusion and boyhood mockery. 

The red haired man blinked once, then burst into a fit of chuckles. “You’re right, you’re right— I’m a difficult man to send a letter to, I accept that. She called you her boyfriend, though. So the marriage was recent?” 

Ah, yes. There it was. The plausible deniability she needed. Pere snuck an imploring look to Buggy, checking the level of his temper. Oop. It was still high. Very high. He pointedly ignored the other captain, giving a command to one of his own crew members to ready a ferry and an escort. 

“Sweetheart,” she whined, under her breath though she knew he could hear her. “Darling…I want to stay with you. I don’t want to go back to the ship.” 

He ignored her, leveling his glare back at Shanks. “Would you butt out? I did everything I could to avoid seeing you, dickhead. I don’t want to see you, hear you, or be near you.” 

“Oh come on, that’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” The other man argued, offering a benevolent smile. “You’ve never been involved with anyone the entire time I’ve known you. I’d at least like to get to know your new bride a little.” 

“She doesn’t want to know you.” The clown contended, shaking the woman in his arms once sharply. “Right? You want to leave, hmm?” 

“R-right!” Pere gasped, the iron grip of his arm around her waist growing bruising. 

“You’re hurting her.” Shanks’ tone was polite, soft, but clearly worried. 

“She likes it.” Buggy shot back. 

Well, fuck. Yeah, that was kind of fair. 

Chapter Text

The wild and intense jealousy wasn’t exactly surprising to Pere, and Buggy had warned her. Plus, she was sort of into it. Not only had he claimed her publicly, but he was openly manhandling her in front of everyone. Hot. 

That being said, the last time the clown had gotten jealous of a man, he had performatively taken her in front of him. And she wasn’t sure that she wanted his childhood friend’s first impression of her to be the sight of her getting fucked against the bar. It did sound fun though. 

The woman squirmed in the clown’s grip, attempting to get more comfortable. She had no expectation of being released any time soon, but she’d rather not aggravate the hip on her bad leg. 

Shanks was observing them, and Pere was sure the effect of her lover’s proximity was selling her up the river. The pulse in her neck was fluttering faster than normal, and her face felt hot. No doubt her pupils were dilated. They’d had sex that morning. Her insides were literally still sore. There was no reason for her to want Buggy this bad out of the blue. 

It was the wife thing. It was unlocking an entirely new roster of kinds and fantasies she hadn’t thought about at length before. 

“Seems like he’s telling the truth, Captain.” Yassop observed. Well, that’s embarrassing. 

Shanks mulled that over a moment. “Okay, okay. Let’s all just calm down for a moment here.” A faux gesture of surrender. “Have a drink with us, ay? One drink, you and the missus.” 

Buggy narrowed his eyes, suspicious. The red haired man was honorable, for all that he was competitive. He’d never known him to pursue a married woman, though he had far less faith in his supposed wife. 

“Y’a know what, fine.” The clown strolled the bar, evoking a yelp from Pere as she was dragged along. He seated himself at one of the tall chairs, pulling the woman into his lap as he sat. The height difference had her toes hanging haplessly above the floor. “Get me a round of shots.” He ordered the bartender. 

Triumphantly, the red haired man took the seat next to him, grinning. His four crew members filled in the seats at the round table closest to them.  

“Where’s Alvida?” Pere questioned, shifting to sit sideways in Buggy’s lap. No point in resisting. Whatever he needed was whatever he needed. 

Abruptly, he kissed her long and hard. A possessive heat simmered against her senses, “mm,” she groaned. She tried not to be too reactive, knowing that he was simply sating his envy in moment. Despite that narrative, she found herself entranced by him as he pulled away. There was mirth dancing in his eyes, and she realized he’d predicted her slack jawed, gooey reaction. Time to set pride aside, as her boundaries would only lessen as they got to drinking. 

Her lover tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Some lady pirate council. She’s busy until later in the afternoon. 

“Oh.” A helpless acknowledgement, as Pere no longer cared to know the answer. 

“So—“ Shanks cut in, unphased by the other captain’s temperament. “How did you two meet?” 

Mutually trying to sink each other’s ships . The woman was the one to formulate a better answer. “Business.” 

“Oh? What business are you in?” 

“I was training to become a bounty hunter.” 

Surprise flickered across hazel eyes. Humor was there too. “I can’t imagine this rascal talked you out of turning him in.” 

“Just encouraged her to follow her dreams.” Said rascal responded, a filthy smile playing at his lips. He downed his shot as soon as it was set on the bar before him.

“Oh?” Shanks seemed genuinely interested. “What dreams were those?” 

“Her dreams of fucking me.” 

Chapter Text

Ill intentioned barbs transformed into full blown arguments, but the drinks kept flowing and the events slowly began to feel less serious. Buggy kept a careful eye on his lover, who was rapidly becoming drunker and more affectionate. Usually, he’d cut her off and insist she behave herself, but he was getting a sick sense of superiority from the way rum made her forget they weren’t alone. 

At some point, they’d all stumbled out of the bar and ended up on a beach, gathered around a campfire as the sun dipped below the hills. They carried along various bottles of booze between them. 

Shanks’ good guy routine had always gotten on Buggy’s last nerve. It was all benevolence and good samaritan shit until someone held him accountable for something, then it was a string of excuses. There wouldn’t be any question to who would be king of the pirates if Shanks had just accepted the job to begin with. That and blaming him for what the clown had lost to the side effects of the Devil Fruit were the primary sources of Buggy’s hatred for him. 

Then came the anxiety — despite what Pere thought, Buggy had never been that great with the ladies. He’d stood in Shanks and Mihawk’s shadows for the majority of his boyhood, and more important things had occupied his time as an adult. Dating wasn’t even secondary — it had to be fourth or fifth down the line. There had been countless nights out in his apprenticeship where Shanks had romanced some farmers’ daughter and left Buggy alone with his thoughts on the matter. Mihawk had never shown a strong interest in women, but he’d never struggled to keep them hooked when it warranted his time. 

And Buggy…well, at some point he’d grown into his nose, and women had started looking at him differently. But his insecurity and uncertainty usually meant the only interactions he had with the opposite sex were those that they initiated towards him. 

Pere’s obsession with him had been a wild card. She was a beautiful, voluptuous woman with an insatiable sexual appetite that only he could fulfill. Yeah, her tendency to objectify his anger and violence made her hard to control, but at least he had a shot at it. Even if it was only through sexual blackmail most of the time. 

The clown’s lover didn’t hold her liquor all that well, and she spent the majority of the evening attempting to stick her hands either up his vest or down his pants. Sidetracking her from her subconscious mission was easy enough, and eventually she fell fast asleep against his chest in a hammock. 

“Festivities a bit much for her?” Shanks, tipsy and good natured, commented on his approach. 

“Can you not think about her, or look at her? Thanks.” Aggression mixed with just a trace of vulnerability. 

The red haired man sighed. “No one’s trying to take her from you, Buggy. Not sure they could if they tried.” 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” The clown hiccuped, having downed nearly an entire bottle of rum over the course of the evening.

Still asleep, Pere sighed, snuggling closer to his neck. “Circus core,” she murmured before stilling and falling more deeply into slumber. 

Shanks raised a brow. 

So did Buggy. 

The two men exchanged a matching look, then dissolved into parallel fits of chuckles.  

“Ah,” the red haired pirate exhaled, wiping tears of hilarity from his eyes. “It’s nice, to laugh with you again.” 

That comment wiped the smile clean off the clown’s face. “I wasn’t the one who ruined everything, Red Hair.” 

“Plans change.” There was genuine remorse there, but it was outweighed by a haunty self righteousness. “I didn’t realize I didn’t want all that responsibility until it was nearly mine.” 

“Well, fuck you. We were all counting on you.” Buggy pressed a kiss to Pete’s forehead, distracting himself from the churning anxiety in his gut. There was some things he didn’t think he’d ever be able to move past, and this was one of them. 

“Do you think we could ever be friends again?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Fair enough. But know I’ll be rooting for you from a distance.” 

Chapter Text

As awareness found her in the morning, Pere realized that the pillow she rested on was suspiciously firm and warm. Stirring, she realized that she must have fallen asleep sprawled out over her lover the night before. He was firmly passed out now, snoring boisterously where he lay.

A quick peck to his lips, then she carefully extracted herself from the hammock to survey the beach. Pirates were sprawled about to and fro, some in hammocks, some on their knapsacks on the ground. 

The fire had since dwindled to nothing. 

A variety of ships were visible hovering against the horizon, and she briefly wondered if Alvida had returned to the ship sometime during the partying. As far as she recalled, she hadn’t seen her since the prior morning. 

“Sleep well?” A cheerful voice called out to her. 

The woman turned to see Shanks crossing the beach, clearly hungover but handling it fairly enough. “My head’s killing me.” She admitted. 

“I’ll drink to that.”

“That’s the opposite of a solution.” The woman deadpanned, only having softened slightly to his constant joking. 

“Does everything exist to be solved?” The Captain shot her a good natured smile. 

“I’m gonna pass.” Dismissive, fleeting. 

“Pass on what?” Shanks inquired. 

“Pass on having the rest of this conversation.” 

The red haired man laughed, reading something into her words that she wasn’t sure was there. “There’s no need to be so hostile.” 

“This isn’t even close to me being hostile.” She bit out, upholding the illusion of politeness. “You don’t have to try to get along with everyone, you know.”

The man shook his head, sighing. “You’re just a more formal version of your husband. Do you resent me because he does?” 

“No, actually.” There was another reason, the same reason she’d resented many others before. “I resent you because it’s like you’re not even trying. You’re just effortlessly in everyone’s good graces. It’s not that easy for the rest of us, you know.” 

“And that makes you angry?” 

“No, it makes me feel sorry for you. Not everyone has to like you. It’s not that important.” Her gaze found where the clown was still sleeping soundly, and she hesitated to say the next part. “And I don’t know the details, but Buggy’s deep seated trauma of wanting everyone to worship him seems like it has something to do with you.” 

Shanks frowned, for once seeming brought down by what was being said. “I’m not sure I can be held responsible for that.” 

“Of course not. But constantly bringing up what great friends you used to be isn’t helping anything.” Locating her shoes in the sand, she sat down to brush the debris off of them. “And appealing to me isn’t helping anything. I’d light your house on fire, if you had one.” 

“Oh.” The red haired man absorbed that for a moment, seeming to say to himself ‘ that checks out ’.

Chapter Text

The next day of meetings was long and grueling, and full of more people Pere got the impression she should know more about. Oh well. Growing up in a town that didn’t live in constant fear of being raided by pirates wasn’t exactly something to write home about. 

The timeline of these meetings was pretty ambiguous, as to be expected when the attendees were pirates and there was no clear agenda. It was a lot of preening and bragging about their own crews before one of them finally caved and started addressing guild business or territories. It had never occurred to her that there was so much structure to the unlawful underground. Some of the big bounty pirates that openly had deals with the Marines were there, even. It seemed that only a handful of the other high ranking pirates held it against them. 

Buggy had awoken, hung over, late in the morning and had to rush to clean himself up and make it to the gatherings. Awoken was a generous word, overly delicate, to describe Alvida kicking the underside of his hammock and sending him sprawling out into the sand. The Latina had sent a disapproving look Pere’s way, as the redhead had spent a solid hour simply staring at the clown rather than making any attempt to wake him. 

So sue her. 

Mallow had been invited to shore at some point, perhaps Buggy’s inadvertent reward for instigating in a way that had somehow turned out well. The melded crew of carnies and brutes that made up the Buggy/Alvida crew was now drawing a large amount of attention. 

Despite her problematic tendencies, Mallow was easily one of the most beautiful women any of them had ever seen. Pere was pretty enough, and Alvida was a Venus Flytrap that most of the attendees had contemplated attempting to proposition at one time or another. Female captains were relatively rare. 

They all sat in what wasn’t quite an auditorium, but rather a laid back meeting room in spirited talks for concrete guidelines for what separates each of the blues. Arlong’s apparent defeat had triggered a fresh vie for power along the border. Without fear of angering the fishmen, several lower bounty captains were casting their hats into the ring for a portion of his territory. 

Buggy and Alvida could care less, having since set their eyes on larger prizes. They mainly were attending the event to discuss what a nuisance the Straw Hat pirates had recently become, and it seemed like that was the only reason the Red Hair pirates were there as well. Shanks and Buggy seemed to have very opposite opinions on culling the apparent threat the overpowered youngsters presented to the delicate order in the outlaw world. 

Speaking of the delicate bond between the two legendary captains, about a half hour into their presence there, Shanks and Beckman had muscled through the crowd to sit on sofas across from them. Even later, the red haired man started waving widely at a new arrival that had walked through the door. The crowd notably parted for him. 

“Hawkeyes!” The cheerful man called, gesturing him over just as Pere turned to see what the fuss was about. 

Holy shit. 

That was a hot, muscular, toxic looking man. 

If amphibians used color to show poison, the opposite logic must apply for pirates. Shanks’ friend(?) was composed of leather and steel, angular features painting together like a work of art. She thought Buggy dressed like a slut but good gods this man’s attire blew that idea out of the water. The exposed stretch of his pale chest went all the way down to the angular V of his hips. The long leather jacket did very little to disguise his physique. 

Any further inspection of his figure was cut short, because the clown noticed her looking .

Shit . 

The familiar feeling of her jaw being clasped in an iron grip wasn’t a surprise after she saw the look in his eye, and she braced herself for the cursing out she had inevitably earned. 

“If you don’t keep your goddamn eyes to yourself—“ he hissed at her, voice low enough it was for her ears only. “—I should have fucked you sore this morning, since you can’t keep your tight little pussy dry for half a day.” 

Well, it actually had been pretty dry prior to him saying that. Window shopping wasn’t the same as the visceral effect Buggy had on her. 

“I wasn’t doing anything.” Pere whined, feeling her nipples pebble against the fabric of her dress in excitement. 

Fuck, she was a glutton for punishment. It was hard to feel like her actions had any lasting consequences when any aggression from her lover worked her up more. He was so jealous, possessive, and petty. It lit her whole body aflame. 

The clown inspected her pupils, the flush of her cheeks, and the pattern of her breathing. “Don’t lie to me.” He whispered. “You’re clearly panting for it.” 

“‘Cause you’re hurting me.” Pere keened, shifting in her seat. It wasn’t a protest, but rather an explanation. She watched his expression as he considered it, the progression of considering evidence internally clear in the set of his jaw. 

“Why is the clown deadlocked in a staring match with a courtesan?” A bored, velvety voice cut through the tension. 

“That’s his wife.” Shanks responded, a stage whisper. “It’s…new. You know how he is.” 

Chapter Text

Unlike Shanks, who was walking on eggshells and being painfully polite around Pere, the new arrival seemed to take great enjoyment in provoking Buggy. Sure, it didn’t show on his face, but he was making far too much eye contact with the woman for it to be accidental. 

Especially since she hadn’t dared to say a word about anything even vaguely associated with him. Nope. No matter how delicious the swordsman looked, she was resolutely pretending he didn’t exist. He knew he was hot, she knew he was hot, and most problematically, Buggy knew he was hot. 

And now, somehow, all three of them knew Pere thought the dark haired man was hot. Buggy was observant because of his possessiveness, but this Hawkeye guy seemed to just have a special talent for reading the room. 

“I never took you for the marriage type, clown.” Mihawk, as it turned out his actual name was, commented at the next interlude in announcements. 

“Yeah? Did you ever take the judgemental pole out of your ass or is it still there?” Buggy snapped back at him. 

“Calmly, now. One might think you’re becoming defensive.” Amber eyes analyzed the scenario. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the swordsman was questioning the information set forth before him. “Forgive me if I find it difficult to believe that this…what do they call you, girl?” 

For fucks sake, she didn’t want those intense eyes anywhere near her. “Pereira.” Was all she dared to say. 

“An elegant name. From the south, perhaps?” Mihawk nearly purred, clearly flirting for his own entertainment. It surely didn’t have anything to do with her, judging by how closely he was tracking Buggy’s reactions. 

“Hawkeyes.” Shanks sighed, verbally stepping in. “You know these events take place on neutral grounds. Fighting is forbidden.” 

“Who spoke of any manner of duel? I am simply taking your constant advice to be more sociable.” One elegant brow arched toward his lush hairline, the closest to an outward show of amusement that he’d shown thus far. 

“Why I oughta—“ Pere made no attempt to stop the clown as he forced her to switch seats with him, cursing the swordsman out the entire time. This wedged his supposed wife shoulder to shoulder between him and Mallow, who giggled at the contact with her friend. 

Maybe because they seemed to be on the topic, Beckman took the opportunity to speak directly to Alvida’s girl, diffusing some of the tension. “So…Mallow, is it? Have you been sailing long?” 

The brunette woman let out a high pitched squeal, causing Pere to flinch. Though she knew it wasn’t her true nature, now, it was hard to look past the overly bubbly, blatantly annoying persona the young pirate elected to perform day in day out. “Only a few years. Alvida’s like, totally my savior.” 

The Latina rolled her eyes, neglecting to comment on the happenings from her seat at the far edge of the group. 

“Oh?” Beckman was openly sweating, his usual confidence absent. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.” 

“Awww, thanks so much.” Mallow cooed, her real emotions indiscernible. Pere tried her hardest not to laugh. 

“Are you…particularly attached to anyone you sail with?” The gray haired man was clearly asking if she was single. 

“Well…” the brunette twirled her hair around her finger, glancing towards where her friend was sitting next to her. “I like someone…but they like someone else.” In the many months since Mallow had aided and abetted the red haired woman fleeing the ship, her claim that she had a crush on the other woman hadn’t faded. 

Again, Pere was sure she was just causing issues for fun. 

Beckman’s brows shot up to his hairline. “The clown’s wife?” 

For whatever reason, Mallow’s antics failed to irritate Buggy at the moment. Perhaps he wanted a united front with his crew mates, perhaps he was generally overwhelmed. 

“Wow, I’ve never been this popular in my life.” Pere commented sarcastically, attempting to burrow into the couch behind her and disappear. 

“Mallow.” Alvida’s stern tone was heard for the first time since the conversation began. “Behave. Your enrollment is still probationary.” 

“Probationary?” Shanks grinned, detecting a story. 

“This asshole tried to homewreck over a year ago now. Pere beat her into the deck.” This brightened the clown’s mood; a self satisfied smile settled across his lips. 

All eyes turned towards the red haired woman, whose face was rapidly attempting to match the color of her hair. She felt shy. These were the legends of the sea, what did they care that she got in a fist fight over a guy?

Mallow sighed in admiration. “It was totally hot. I love mean women.” The retired maneater rested her head lovingly on Pere’s shoulder. 

When the fuck did she become the main character in a romance novel? This current fixation had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with her fundamental connection to Buggy. “I’m…contemplating becoming a nun.” 

The clown Captain laughed outright. “Sweetheart, nuns don’t get to choose who’s altar they worship at.” 

A stretch of silence between all of them. The slightest twitch of Mihawk’s brow told them he was perplexed by the entire interaction. 

“She’s mentally ill.” Beckman explained, jerking his thumb at Pere.

“WOW, okay, I’m leaving!” The mechanic shot up, storming away from her group that was dissolved into roaring laughter once more. 

Chapter Text

Anxiety clawed against Pere’s skin as she paced the shore, the walk to the beach doing little to calm her discomfort. Maybe it was a mistake coming to land after all. Evening was approaching quickly, and the torches in town didn’t quite illuminate out to the water like they could. The sun had already dipped below the hills. 

She kept up an even stride, reciting comebacks in her head that she wished she had spit out to preserve some of her dignity. Fuck, she was so whipped. The steady tune of sexual gratification 2-3 times a day led to her being very cranky at the moment. Between the physical and emotional tension Buggy had led her through, and the thick sexual tension Mihawk had meaningfully danced in front of her face, she was well and truly worked up. Was everything a game to these men? They were clearly childhood friends, contending with each other in ways only young boys had practice in. 

Finally, Pere paused at the water’s edge. There was something so peaceful about the sea. Despite the secrets that were concealed beneath the depths, the way that the pools ebbed and flowed soothed her. Consumed by her thoughts, she almost missed the cheerful beckonings that tugged at her hearing. 

“Hey, lady!” A sweet voiced bubbled, calling to her. How had she missed the fact that she was coming up on a bend? The beach steepened and rounded, the water flowing into a clearing like a bathing pool. Her legs seemed to lead her there against her will. The tide lapped against her ankles. 

Beautiful, floating orbs decorated the area, a steep earthen staircase winding down into the pool where lovely beings were flocking. After meeting events? Pirates did love to relax and party after any measure of exertion. 

A trio of women danced in a circle, across a bed of dalias. They were barefoot and stunning, they’re bronzed skin seeming to glow from within. Their bright countenances each bore stunning and welcoming smiles. “Hey, lady.” One of them repeated, sultry. Pere wasn’t into girls, and she was attached, but the thickness of the tone still sent a pulse down between her legs. 

“Hi.” The redhead greeted weakly, feeling plain and out of place. Another of the women reached out to take her hand, and the glow danced across Pere’s hands and sunk into her. It almost burned, but the joy of celebration overpowered the tingling in her hands. The third of the dancers offered a crown of flowers to set atop copper lockes, and all three giggled as the new arrival sneezed from the pollen sprinkling down and tickling her nose. 

The smell and sounds relaxed her guard, drawing her into an easy bliss. Each of the women kissed her cheek, and she was slow to push the first away when the woman trailed a tongue down her neck. The lewdness of the gesture could be chalked up to an orgasmic haze, but it didn’t really seem like a sex party. No, all of the other participants were keep their distance from each other, watching Pere with keen eyes. 

The woman’s tongue felt rough, almost sharp. The redhead craned her chin back, catching sight of welts forming across the damp skin of her collarbone. Why did that hurt? The dancer’s lips looked soft, pilant, and inviting. It wasn’t quite enough to draw the mechanic in. But she could see how that might tempt someone else. 

The linen of her dress clung damply to her frame, which was odd because the waves only appeared to touch the tops of her feet whenever they came in. The wetness of the fabric kept rising, threatening to overtake her waist. Her movements felt buoyant, though slowed. 

The woman who had spoken to her snuggled into her side, tugging on her arm to invite her closer to the bathing pool. Pere obliged, curious who all the singing and laughing voices belonged to. Descending the staircase a few steps, an elegant gentleman swam up to her from below. The stairs led deep into the water, allowing one to remain mostly submerged whilst communicating with those on land. The man, eyes too sharp and neck too stately, offered her a hand. Sitting on the edge of the step, the redhead extended her arm to take his. 

The moment those long fingers touched her skin, she knew they had no intention of releasing her again. 

The ruse wasn’t up, and through her fogged mind, she brainstormed how to run back to the beach without alerting them to her intentions. She opened her mouth to speak, only for water to come rushing in. How had the tide risen so fast? Why was she drifting into the depths below whilst her sight only caught sky and greenery? 

The glow swelled within her, threatening to burst her lungs. It was no longer a beautiful warmth. It transformed into a punishing pressure, robbing her of oxygen and strength. 

Where has she put her backup breather strips? Could she get to them with the scalding grip bow chaining both her hands? Would they do anything for water she may only be imagining? Perhaps she has fainted, an anxiety attack getting the best of her. Those felt like drowning in their own way. 

Help me . She wanted to scream. Please, help me . Her efforts only pushed more water into her lungs, and she could feel the edges of her vision starting to blacken. She was dying. It was over. 

Just as the darkness threatened to take her, the water shifted beneath her hands. Something scraped across the surface, catching the otherworldly man across the face and knocking him back. It looked like a bat, maybe? Something long and steel. 

Pulling from what little remained of her strength, Pere kicked her legs, propelling herself back, treading water she had no vision of. The illusion faltered, the man before her warping into a creature barely humanoid. Half fish, half corpse, the being screamed against the water, lunging for her. The weapon struck him again, smashing his mostly ruined face further in, giving the redhead a better look at what it was. 

It was a mace. An iron mace. 

Chapter Text

Freed from the hands of the monster, Pere strained for where she may find air. Even without the tangible grip, something was continuing to tow her downwards again and again. Adrenaline flowed through her veins, undoubtedly the only thing keeping her conscious in what could be her final moments. 

Feeling dark tendrils tuck against her ankles and pull at the soles of her shoes, she attempted to kick out of the footwear. Her heart sank when she saw how quickly they were snatched away. Something was lurking in the depth, something beyond the creature that was being beaten down in the distance. 

From above, the feeling of slender fingers tugged at her waist and back. A tiny trickle of air met her senses, and she realized one of the dancing women was in the pool with her, pressing their lips to hers. The flesh felt different this time, softer, and through her groggy gaze she saw the image shift into Mallow and back again. 

What was real and what was superimposed over the top? 

The half dancer/half Mallow figure made another attempt to pull her upwards as she fed her oxygen. The faint outline of a breather strip was visible on the woman’s nose. The darkness shifted and warped as Pere felt a pressure on her own nose bridge. 

Context clues told her Mallow was realizing she didn’t have the strength to break the grasp of the darkness, and was attempting to buy her friend time. Unfortunately, the strip failed to stick when already soaked with water. 

The redhead went limp, caving to the forces pulling her into the darkness. 

It couldn’t be said how long she was unconscious for, but when Pere awoke, her first question was if she had left her ability to see color underwater. Her lungs burned; her vision spiraled. Salt lodged in her throat as water cleared, spilling from her lips onto the ground. A wide hand smacked her none too gently on the back, forcing the obstruction to clear her lungs faster. 

Her misconception made more sense as her vision cleared. Mihawk became recognizable, the pallor of his skin translucent in the dimness of the late hour. His hat was missing; his hair was wet. Had he pulled her from the water when Mallow had failed to? And at whose request? The stoic man didn’t come off as someone who dolled out favors that easily. Those pale, regal lips were moving, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying over the sharp ringing in her ears. 

Eventually, the syllables started to make sense. “Breathe.” The swordsman intoned. “I’d so hate for all my efforts to be for naught.” So the speaking in prose thing was inherent, rather than it being a conscious choice to seem more sophisticated in big gatherings. 

Tears flowed freely down Pete’s cheeks. She felt horrible . Her entire body hurt. Even laying flat on the ground, she could feel a sharp ache in her bad leg, bruises forming on her wrists. “W-where’s Buggy?” 

Rather than giving her a verbal answer, Mihawk placed a hand on her back and pushed her into a sitting position. They were near the back of the beach, nearly to the edge of the makeshift town. This reaffirmed her belief that the swordsman had saved her from drowning — Mallow wouldn’t have been able to carry her this far on her own.  

A massive brawl was taking place on the water’s edge. A sea beast unlike one she had ever seen was darkening the shore, fended off by a hodge podge group of overpowered pirates. Unable to spot Buggy at first, Pere squinted, only then becoming aware of the collection of parts that were independently contending with a collection of tentacles. 

The clown’s disembodied head and torso hovered above the fray. His arms and legs were off in four different directions, stomping and slamming the creature's limbs back towards the water as it tried to crawl into shore. The creature seemed to be much like a Kraken, save for the ghostly outline of energy that hung in the air around it. 

With Buggy keeping the monster at bay, Shanks was weaving under the wild appendages and severing them from below. Alvida batted them into the sea as they fell. Beckman, Roo, and Yassop were making major headway by quite literally shooting the monster repeatedly in the face. It snapped deformed teeth in their direction, but each of them proved too fast for its clutches. 

Mallow, who Pere had never seen in a pirate style brawl, had somehow figured out that their opponent rose with the moon. She had recruited a band of acrobats to hold the line with torches, further forcing the common enemy off the land. The darkness seemed to wither when it came too close to the flame.

Speaking of light…the glow the redhead believed to be part of the illusion had yet to subside. It was an afterthought, coming to her only when she spotted her toes contrasting against the dark sand. Frantically, she hiked her skirt up around her knees and observed the light branching up through her veins, shifting around her ankles and up her calves. 

It wasn’t the confusion. It wasn’t sensory overload. It was the fact that as the phenomenon progressed, the inherent need to no longer live within her own skin grew. The reaction burned horrifically. Pere clawed at her own skin, a hapless effort to rip the light out before it could progress. 

The stoic swordsman captured her hands, ignoring her upset as he inspected what was frightening her for himself. One of his wide hands closed around her knee, somehow providing a modicum of relief. They both watched in confusion as he smoothed his palm downwards across her skin. The burning light subsided in the opposite direction, as though being chased away by his touch. 

Problem solved, except that wasn’t the only source. The glow was now spreading up through her hands, worming its way down from her temples, and altogether working outwards towards her stomach. “I-it hurts—“ she gasped. 

Cogs were turning behind amber eyes. “‘Hurts’ is far too vague. Focus. What feeling is predominant? Where does it stem from?” The man’s smooth voice left no room to argue. 

“Uh, uh-“ what was it seeking within her? What was the most familiar thing she could compare it to? Honestly, it felt closest to tension. A familiar tension that drove most of her most intimate impulses. Sexual was the wrong word. 

Primal. 

It was primal. 

Despite the direness of the scenario, she felt her cheeks color. She cursed the devil fruit that had deprived Buggy his ability to swim. The urges possessing her didn’t shame her when she phrased them to him. If only it were his hands on her instead of this strangers. Her body knew what she needed, but she wouldn’t ask for it from anyone else. 

“I can’t tell you.” Pere whispered, humiliated and in pain. 

Mihawk refused to allow her to curl in on herself, and he declined to release his hold on her leg. He sighed, sounding well and truly put out. “All this fuss, over a girl with such little will to live.” 

“T-that’s,” the redhead began to protest, halted as the dark haired man swept his mouth down to capture hers. What the fuck ? Was he kissing her? Her nails tensed against his skin. She had no energy to fight it. She didn’t even understand his motivations. This wasn’t exactly a candle lit dinner they were sharing an embrace over. 

Despite her reservations, her discomfort eased under his attention. The heat within her subsided. Thankful for his grip, the tension draining from her frame left her limp and aimless. Not reciprocating in any way, she allowed his tongue to trace her lips. 

When Mihawk pulled away, he was much the picture of a scientist who had just proved his own hypothesis. “You’ve been poisoned. I know not why, yet this much is obvious. A substance from the wild lands flows in your veins.” 

What poison? Like a fatal aphrodisiac? Her memory provided her a recent image. Fuck. Was he telling her she’d been exposed to sex pollen ?

That was some cliche bullshit. 

“I shall fetch the clown. This is as far as my benevolence stretches.” 

Chapter Text

There was a resounding boom as Mihawk joined the battle, the first stroke of the swordsman’s blade cleaving a hole in the beast’s side. The creature was nearly defeated, anyway. Who dealt the final blows hardly mattered. 

Pace a leisurely stroll, the warlord came to stand under where Buggy’s sight was suspended midair. “Clown.” He drawled, his voice carrying without him having to raise it. “Pull yourself together. Your woman requires your…services.” Why did that sound painful for his long-time acquaintance to admit to him? 

“Huh?” Buggy squawked, skeptical even as he reassembled himself to drop heavy onto the sand. It was a superhero landing if the world had ever seen one, just to be ironic, he guessed. A distance behind them, he could see his lover crouched on her knees, clutching her chest. She was worse for wear, but she was breathing. 

Alvida had a sixth sense for when everything was about to go completely to shit, and she’d stood abruptly before the end of the proceedings saying she was going to check the line of the horizon. Mallow followed, that was a given. After some time passed and the women didn’t return, the men collectively realized something was horribly, horribly wrong. 

Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk, and stragglers from the first two’s crews had tracked a path down to the beach. They had arrived just in time to see Alvida chest deep in water, balancing on the edge of a steep drop as she contended with something beneath the depths. 

Mallow had broken the surface of the water moments later, crying for help. Her call of “she’s drowning!” had sent ice through Buggy’s veins. He’d just barely established the image of stability in his relationship and his stupid, cursed inability to swim was going to force him to let her die. 

Maybe it was the poorly hidden desperation in his eyes that had Shanks drawing his sword. And maybe it was Shanks’ commitment to old times sake that had Mihawk shrugging out of his coat and hat and diving beneath the waves. Whatever happened out of sight had drawn the massive sea creature out of hiding. 

That led up to the present. 

“Whatsamatter?” was the unceremonious greeting the clown offered Pere as he reached her. She was rocking herself back and forth on her knees, a faint glow emanating from her torso. He dropped down next to her, allowing her to meet his eye. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“I-I’m sick.” Gray eyes fixed on the ground, a strange self consciousness affixed to her features. 

“The sea nearly took y’a. Y’a gonna feel like shit.” He wasn’t minimizing anything, but he wasn’t playing into any undue anxiety either. 

“No, I’m cliche, storybook, stupid sick.” The redhead closed her eyes in an attempt to steady herself, gritting her teeth against some unseen torture. 

“Huh?” Hidden meanings weren’t exactly his strong suit. 

“If you don’t fuck me right now, I literally think I’m going to die.” She spelled out for him. 

“HUH?” His lover was the type to pull any trick to get laid, but she seemed genuinely rattled about this. Die? That was the crisis they’d just adverted. “What y’a talking about? Y’a fine. Y’a whole.” 

And shiny. Sparkly? Glowy. Buggy grasped her shoulders to steady her, and it was the sounding of a gun when his torn gloves met skin on skin beside the straps of her dress. 

Pere lunged at him, like an animal, or something possessed. She pressed as much skin as she could to his, rubbing her cheek against his as a cat might. It scarcely soothed her agony. Toppling back into the sand with him, she swung one leg over his lap and her hips began to move seemingly of their own volition. Snapping her pelvis against his, she rolled desperately, attempting to gain some manner of friction. 

In any other scenario, the clown may have found this amusing. Endearing, even, as there was typically no end to her antics. Yet, the way her eyes were blackened with lust and fear was a red flag in more ways than one. 

“I need you—“ she gasped. “IneedyouIneedyouIneedyou.” Her words meshed into one another, coherency long gone. 

“FUCK, doll, calm down! I’m not saying no, shit! You’re just scaring the hell out of me!” The pirate raised his voice above the agony of hers, ripping his gloves off and discarding them to give her more accessible skin. While he wasn’t the all time smartest on the sea, he pieced context clues together quickly. 

Tears started running down her cheek, the kind a migraine or fractured bone might bring on. They were wild, lost tears. Her fate rested entirely in the hands of those around her. “I need to fuck, I need to cum!” Burst from her vocals, clawing at the fabric of his attire aimlessly. 

“Shhh—shh—shh—“ he soothed her, verbally attempting to diffuse her. “That sounds good, okay baby? Yeah? Let go of my shirt, okay? Hold onto my shoulders—“ his coaching gave her something to focus on. 

Unseeing, eyelids squeezed shut, she followed his directions. The sight of him only grew the fire more, and the sight of her made him afraid and frantic. But he looked on, searching for an answer. 

“You’ll be mad, later, if I fuck y’a out here.” A near howl of protest escaped her frame at his reasoning. “But—but, let’s make y’a cum, okay? Spread your skirt out.” 

Haphazardly, Pere fluttered the fabric over both their laps. No longer having to keep her hands from gouging at her own skin, Buggy detached his hands and sent them skittering under her dress. 

“Kiss me, okay? Kiss me, bite me, lick me, but don’t get in my way, okay?” He waited for her nod.”I know your body. I know what it needs.” 

The redhead wasted no time sealing her lips over the clowns’. She inhaled him—his scent, his taste—like one would receive water after a long stretch in the desert. His hands were already at work, concealing her modesty whilst touching her where she needed the most. 

Her lover had experienced her dripping, clenching, bursting, but none of that prepared him for the feel of her puffy, exhausted heat. The flesh was almost scalding to the touch, coated in so much liquid it felt sticky, dehydrated. Whatever was pumping all this need to her cunt was sapping it from her body’s other organs. The moment he got her stabilized, she’d need food and water. 

But would this do it? Would her notion and her body’s matching reactions lead him to the solution so easily? It would have to hold her over for now. 

As soon as the pads of his fingers found within her, Pere let out a blissed sigh. The spreading glow under her skin seemed to pause, hovering in place as he explored her folds. Muscle memory instructed him on where to touch, twist, and worship. He’d never see her so reverent for his attention, and she’d get on her knees before him every night if he allowed it. 

Giving her hope against her illness, the clown finger fucked her relentlessly. It seemed to smooth a majority of her woes. His lover sank deeply into the kisses, accepting the sweet oblivion of laying her life in his hands.

Speaking of hands, the unattended second one went to work on her clit. It was overly sensitive to the point he nearly felt bad fiddling with it — but it was this or forfeit the power struggle all too easily. 

The world rocked as Pere’s first orgasm of the evening swelled up from her lower core, soaking the clown’s lap and the ground below. And the world rocking wasn’t just an expression — the monster behind them fell backwards into the sea, momentarily stunned. It was odd— the clown hasn’t seen any major hits get dealt off. Maybe it was the build up of brute force it had been dealt. 

No matter. Fuck the battle. He needed to get his girlfriend inside, fed, and bedded at least half a dozen times, judging by the steady glow still stretching up her elbows. 

Chapter Text

Hello! This story isn’t abandoned — none of my stories are.

I’m so grateful for the outpouring of support I’m reading through in my inbox at the moment, and I didn’t mean to ghost any of you.

Let me explain — no, wait. There is too much.
Let me sum up.

I was exposed to an allergen at the end of September. It began as a minor inconvenience. A brand I’d used for 5 years solid reformulated and introduced a topical I was extremely allergic to without disclosing or updating the packaging. After much backlash and testimonials of reactions, they disclosed this change on their website.

I felt terrible. But I went to my day job as normal. My symptoms got worse, and I ended up the ER. They treated me for a few days, let me go.

About a week later, the symptoms returned. Same process.

A couple weeks go by and I collapse at work after calling up husband and offering a two word consensus, “something’s wrong”.

The topical I was allergic to had essentially caused my body to become allergic to itself. I was bedridden and unconscious for the majority of two months.

I began to recover right as the strike ended and I started working 80-100 hours every week. I’m still sleeping every spare moment that I have. I’m hoping to return to writing in the next couple weeks, as I started reading again last week and feel my ability to be creative creeping back in.

Chapter Text

The next several hours, and eventually days, went by at the pace of someone coping with their patient having the flu. One bowl of chicken noodle soup was never enough, and all the broth in the world couldn’t cure the system without the body’s help. And Pere’s body wasn’t healing.

The summit had ended, and only a handful of crews remained behind on the island. Some of them were there to help clean up the debris, while the rest were evaluating the fall out from the contact of the mysterious creatures beneath the water. 

It was determined only Pere, Mallow, and Alvida had come in direct contact with the spektors. Mallow complained of heat flashes, and Alvida was cranker than normal, but that resolved itself fairly quickly after she locked herself in her quarters with a cabin boy for the better part of the afternoon. Those who thought to comment on that latter event were threatened at gunpoint. 

Pere…well, Pere kept getting worse. Three doctors from three different crews had evaluated her, and none of them had seen anything like it before. Mihawk seemed to have some knowledge on the substance overpowering the woman’s system, but he had disappeared into his research at Shank’s behest and had yet to emerge. 

And Buggy was overwhelmed. Even more so than usual. 

“…hurts.” Pere murmured, attempting to lift her head from where she was sprawled, nude, against Buggy’s similarity bare chest. 

The clown stirred, blinking sleep out of his eyes. “Hnnh. Wha…” almost subconsciously, he palmed her ass, drawing her hips back to his. Barely conscious, he willed his dick to life. 

Chapter Text

A kaleidoscope of color meshed itself amongst the morning light. After many days of chaotic yearning, Pere had fallen into a deep sleep that little seemed to disturb. Eight hours blended into ten, then twelve, stretching on into eighteen. All was quiet when the auburn haired woman awoke, and she was alone. The burning in her mind and body had subsided, and for a moment she allowed herself to breathe. To feel. 

Was this the way she always functioned? Was the fervent longing of the prior events so all consuming? 

If you’ve ever experienced a particularly bad headache, you know the feeling of the clouds clearing overhead upon relief. That being said, this sensation was different. The body has a way of determining what’s crucial and what’s secondary. Clearly, keeping the lights on was the number one priority. Although…being healthy, wealthy, and well fed wasn’t terribly secondary. Happiness is fuel just as much as food was. 

But happiness wasn’t the emotion Pere was experiencing. 

In fact, she wasn’t experiencing any emotion at all. 

Since she was a small child, the grey-eyed woman knew herself to be…a lot. To handle, to hold, to reason with. As a teenager, she had figured that being a handful was the reason her parents hadn’t bothered with her. As an adult, she realized her parents not bothering with her was why she was a handful. 

Shy of a lobotomy, the general public didn’t have many solutions for women who simply couldn’t hang. Yet, Pere having a personality disorder was like Pere having a middle name — not many knew what it was, but they assumed it was there. 

The mattress she rested upon was central to a large room that looked half inn and half guest room. The personal touches strewn about the space could be justified as momentary adjustments. To note, the large window along one wall had been covered with a circus themed tarp. The fabric was so thick that it could be any time of day, but the level of silence suggested it was just after sunrise.

The thick rug was soft and thick beneath her feet as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Bruises bloomed along her hips in the shapes of fingertips. Cuts and scrapes littered otherwise smooth skin, reflecting the aftermath of the combat at the water. 

Opposite the window was a set of drawers, atop which piles of clothes were set. They weren’t as flamboyant as Pere would expect from her lover, but the fit hugged the right places while remaining soothing to the frame. 

A little warning bell chimed in some distant part of her mind, activating a pathway of cognitive muscle memory that led…nowhere? 

This was considerate. Outside of Buggy’s normal self centered nature. The Captain thinking about her needs and comfort should be endearing, internal fireworks digging up need that demanding to be quenched. Yet…that pathway that lit up was a dead end. A stretch of nothingness further than the eye could see. A magic bullet for an unstable and impulsive nature. 

It was probably nothing, right? 

It was probably completely normal, a sure fire after effect that everyone had experienced sometime or another. 

After clothing herself in a sky blue tunic with darker balloon pants, the makeshift pirate-ess located some soft leather slip on soles and padded to the door. No duties awaited her, but endless nothingness should have made her restless. The handle of the oak door turned easy, a testament to the prior severity of her condition that it remained unlocked. 

It was all peace and normal and natural. Nothing was amiss in any way. 

Yet, should she have taken a moment to inspect herself further in the tarnished frame of the mirror above the drawers, Pere may have caught a glimpse of the glow that had seemingly vanished. 

The glow that had darkened, deepening into a simmering copper, mostly hidden by her loose hair, right over the base of her brain stem. 

Chapter Text

A deep, bored baritone stretched leisurely down the hall. ”The substance requires something to run course, though there is little evidence to show what those intentions may be.” That kind of devil-may-care intonation couldn’t be replicated — Mihawk had emerged from his diabolical laboratory or wherever too smart for their own good Samurai’s hide away. 

The rebounding comment amidst the musings was chipper, but concern still readily apparent in the tone. “What are we drawing that from?” Shanks, clearly. 

”Behavioral changes, mood swings, over sensitivity, poor heat processing, the catalog continues to stretch.” The monotone continued. 

A telltale snort spoke to a third participant in the conversation. “Trust me, not muchha change. This ain’t the first time I’m wanting to slap my dick over ice trying to live up to her libido.” This man spoke with a loose tongue and few niceties — unmistakably Buggy.

Shanks let out a noise half-way between a laugh and a sigh. “Now, friend, you might consider speaking more delicately of the lady. The faults you perceive in her most likely account for why her nature is so forgiving.” 

Boots hit hard wood in a shuffling, signifying the clown had sprung to his feet in annoyance. “Fuck you, gimpy!! I ain’t say shit was wrong with her!!” 

The tussle they were gearing up to have was no doubt how they missed the soft padding of feet approaching. Pere leaned slightly against the wall as the three came into sight: Buggy holding Shanks by the scruff of his shirt and the red haired man waving his hands palms out in surrender. The third man remained seated in the center of the common area, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. 

“Phenomenal. Now that you’ve exchanged proverbial blows, may we return to the matter at hand?” The renowned swordsman swept a hand in the direction of the hall, alerting the other two men to the presence he had detected the moment it stirred from it’s delayed slumber. 

Matching looks of confusion cast over the brawling duo’s faces, Buggy releasing his grip on Shank’s collar in favor of following the direction of the gesture. 

“Baby!” The clown blurted upon catching sight of her, abandoning everything in favor of rushing over to greet her. “Shit, y’a pissed? Y’a need sumthin’? I was comin‘ back, I swear.” 

White gloves hands instinctively cupped Pere’s face, inspecting her for injury. An invasive thought couched her to pull away. Something like repulsion swelled up in her psyche. She resisted the urge to brush his touch away. “I’m fine, thanks for taking care of me. I feel better now.”

A wrinkle furrows Buggy’s brow momentarily, then vanishes back into the chaos of the rest of his features. “Great…great great great great. Snazzy. Fantastic. Love to hear it.” He murmurs, steering her to sit on a teal loveseat away from the other two pirates. The layout of the lobby was meant for socializing, with a slight spice of extra privacy. They sat near the center of the room where a rectangle of seating was set up — two long couches, two love seats, all facing inwards. 

Shanks and Mihawk settled themselves on opposite sides of the shape, one to each couch. There was an intentional silence. Despite the tense discussion she overheard, it was clear all three men were drawing their own conclusions based on her reappearance. 

The clown captain had his lover seated flush against his side, half habit and half possession. Pere typically insisted on as much physical contact as possible and Buggy took it in stride. Again, this should be endearing but it just…wasn’t. 

“My friend…” Shanks begins, addressing Mihawk while simultaneously gifting the woman in their presence a winning smile, “you needed more information to continue your studies, as they were?” 

The leathered pirate sighs, pinching his temple. Despite his obvious deep fascination with the subject, his perpetual disinterested ruse always won out. “Yes, indeed, we may as well proceed and put this behind us.” 

Several pairs of eyes, including the telltale yellow of a hawk, fixed upon the woman in question. Nearly against her will, an expression to disgust curled upon her lips. 

This did not escape Mihawk’s notice, and there was a barely perceptible tilt of his head as he rose to fetch two wooden chairs to place between the couches. The layout positioned the seats so occupants would be nearly knee to knee. The samurai gestured lazily to the opposite chair as he settled himself in the one closest to his previous seating position. “Come, girl.” 

Pere huffed, rolling her eyes. “I’m not a dog.” 

Buggy guffawed, both perplexed and gratified by her behavior. The white fabric of his glove coasted across his lover’s back, another double edged sword of placating and rewarding. “C’mon babe, I ain’t letting him try nothin’ funny.” 

The mechanic glared at him out of the corner of her eye. “I’m. Fine.” She grit out. 

The shifting of crystal blue eyes accompanied the turning of the fantastical pirate’s head. He had donned his bandana, vest, pants, and signature boots, but his hat was missing. The absence allowed him to lean closer, observing her. “…somethin’s different.” 

Pere could have slapped him. Maybe she still would. “Oh, I don’t know—maybe yet another near death experience?!? Maybe that’s different?!?” 

Buggy flinched, the screech directly into his ear. Shanks reacted with a winch of his own, while Mihawk continued to observe cryptically. 

For a moment, silence reigned. 

True to form, Shanks rises, offering the woman his hand. “Now…we’re all friends here—“ 

“I’m not your fucking friend!” Was the instant response, Pere bolting upright and recoiling, both her expression and tone full of poison. “This is stupid—“

“Enough.” The strength of Mihawk’s fingers clasping around her arm was unyielding. Ignoring her yowling and spitting like a cat, the towering man dragged her over to the second chair. “Sit.” 

“Ugh, fine! Get off of me!” She jerked away, leaning as far back in the chair as she could. 

A firm grip captured Pere’s jaw, the bare skin of the swordsman’s hands settling across either side of her face as he checked her pupil reactivity and the other basics. It was as though bracing for impact, but the telltale wanting that skin to skin had invoked in her before never came. 

The solitary pirate was so close to her that she could feel his hot breath wisping across her lips, and a prior version of her may have sought to capture it. The features were the same, conventionally attractive layout that she remembered. Mihawk’s wide lips and dark brows were more promise than threat, his scent masculine and dangerous. It should be doing something to her, but it simply wasn’t. 

A thought that seemed to occur to the subject of thought simultaneously. 

Yellow eyes scanned a disponent face, nearly a mirror of his own. On the opposite side of the other two men, Mihawk allowed his thumb to slowly stroke the side of her face, tracing across the soft skin of her neck. Intentioned intimacy born from curiosity. Smoldering, seductive, addictive.

A greater woman would have caved to his charms. 

A lesser woman too. 

Maybe any woman. And maybe some men. 

The impulsive idiot that lived in the back of the mechanic’s head told her to close the distance between them, to hike the tension to a 10, to give herself over, and the rest be damned. 

And for perhaps the first time in her life, the needy dumbass that ruled her hormones…lost. 

“Are you done?” Pere broke the silence. “This is like…super awkward. My head hurts and I think I should probably eat and drink something.” 

The slightest furrow embedded itself upon an otherwise perfect brow. “Clown.” 

“Whaddy’a want?” Was the annoyed response, the impatient and irritated bounce of his boot against the wooden floor revealing how he felt about the whole ideal well before his tone. 

“Entice her.” 

Shank’s brows shot into his hairline. Pere nearly growled as she inquired, “Excuse me?” 

Mihawk released her jaw. “I will not repeat myself.” He rose from the chair, settling himself nearby to observe. 

A cocky, cheesy smile was already in place across Buggy’s face as his lover’s head whipped around to look at him. “Relax, babe. Easy enough, right?” Replacing where his warlord counterpart had sat prior, the blue haired man perched on the edge of the chair with great intention. His knees meshed themselves on the outside of hers, the heat of his body apparent even through the thick leather of his pants. 

Another textbook analysis took place, a testing tool to her apparent inability to feel attraction at the moment. He looked good. He always looked so damn good. Regardless of whether it was sexual or not, by the seas, Buggy was a feast for the eyes. 

The vest the clown captain fashioned upon himself revealed the shape of his muscular arms in the most delicious way. His notorious face paint was absent, some vanity forgotten as grease paint wasn’t exactly compatible with spending days on end between light colored sheets. 

Pere’s grey gaze drifted further south, appreciating the tapering of his abdominals down to a slim waist and well shaped, powerful legs. Circus smoke and sugar were permanently embedded in his scent, though they did little to disguise the pheromones that were oh so compatible with her own. 

It was scary. It was strange. Usually this proximity would send a throbbing and dripping between her legs, which on top of being bizarre in it’s absence, triggered her fight or flight in knowing that the attraction she was feeling was purely emotional. Davy Jones and all his bastard kin bear witness, she wanted to eat this man alive. 

Maybe that reeling train of thought is what caused her to miss the clown removing his gloves, wanting to recreate the gesture Mihawk had demonstrated. The same experiment that had left her bored and disinterested. A smooth gesture swept up to cradle her face. 

Skin on skin on skin on skin on skin. 

Her pulse races, her pupils blow wide, and the heat returns like a wave slamming into shore. 

All cannons a go. 

Chapter Text

Any creeping anxiety dissolved into maniacal giddiness as Buggy’s lover all but threw herself at him. 

Wait. 

No, there was definitely throwing involved. 

The wooden chair he’d seated himself upon rocked backwards, and he made no attempt to halt it’s progress. The crash of the furniture against the hard floor was gratifying and dramatic. Ever the flare for theatrics. 

The impact barely registered. The clown captain absorbed it all, shifting to allowing them to fall out of the path the seat took. He landed back flat on the floor, his woman clinging to his chest and attempting to weave herself closer and closer. 

“There she is-“ Buggy cackled, blatantly enjoying the substance induced desperation his lover was experiencing. The most secret, deepest fear he contained was the lack of being wanted. The polar opposite was bliss. He shamelessly took pleasure in Pere biting and licking his neck, audience be damned. “—there’s my sweet, little psycho.” 

Over the top of her head, the blue haired man could easily view Shanks' startled and aghast expression. Hell, even Mihawk seemed taken aback, the proceedings not as predictable as he previously deemed. 

Pere, on the other hand, was wholly unaware of anything outside of him. She fisted his hair roughly, clanking teeth with him as she viciously stole a kiss. When he parted his lips to huff out a lewd joke, she forced her tongue into his mouth. 

The clown took the abuse with ease, sitting up with her still very much attached to him. Exhibitionism was nothing to him, and a kink he knew she deeply enjoyed, but his two childhood friends were too formidable to kill easily. And he’d be thrice damned if he allowed another man to live after seeing his lover laid bare. 

Which was on the table, absolutely, judging by how her hands were already drifting down to his waistband. “Hold your trick ponies, toots, we have company.” 

The mechanic jolted, glancing back behind them, though clearly unwilling to release the grip she had on the tanned captain. With a visible, almighty effort, the woman sneered in the visitors direction. “Get out!” was all she spared them before appealing back to the matter at hand, “fuck me, cum in me, get me fucking pregnant!” 

All three men paused at that, whether in shock, or simply because it seemed…uncharacteristic? They’d each heard their fair share of crude language at sea, but there was something about the way the demand was phrased that was incompatible with the rage her tone contained. 

Pere kissed Buggy again, absorbed in the matter at hand. He took the opportunity to make eye contact with Shanks and Mihawk to gauge if they shared his confusion. Blame it on old times sake, as an entire silent conversation took place. 

The red haired man nodded curtly, clasping his hand over his dark clothed companion’s shoulder and gesturing them both out. A graceful brow stretching towards his hairline, Mihawk obliged. Words could be exchanged further at a later date. The duo exited, the main door closing quietly behind them. 

“Fill me—“ Pere persisted, demanding rather than begging. There were no tears this time, only impatient fury. “—come onnnn!” 

A chuckle, half— no, 25% shock, 75% amusement. “Bossy, bossy.” Buggy chided. The dynamic of need was hardly as pressing as before. A sobbing, pathetic mess who couldn’t help herself wasn’t nearly as fun as this new development. His lover seemed steadfast and entitled to his body, and damned if it wasn’t going straight to his head. Both of ‘em. 

Pere had a different personality every single day lately, but who was he to complain? He wasn’t the most shining example of sanity on the island. 

“Ah, what the fuck— ya shit, did ya just bite me?!?” His skin couldn’t be cut, but that didn’t mean the bruising impact didn’t still hurt like a bitch. The clown pulled his bicep out of reach as she attempted to clamp down again. “The fuck is yah problem??”

If he didn’t know better, he’d say her irises were glowing just slightly red. “Sorry—“ she breathed, slightly repentant. “—you smell so good…”

“I’ll be honest, babe, ya freaking me out, but I’m kinda into it.” The rambling road that his thoughts usually took had warning signs going up all along the journey. 

Something was terribly terribly out of whack…

Oh, look, the auburn haired woman was untying her tunic and shucking her pants. Big fan. Big fan of whatever the fuck what happening. 

Laid completely bare, his lover was making every attempt to lead him back to be. And shit, he was never the most responsible pirate. One more romp session before a proper investigation couldn’t hurt, right? 

…right? 

And that’s how he ended up right back in that inn room, being nearly forcibly stripped of his attire and properly molested. 

Every inch of his skin screamed ‘danger danger! Abandon ship!’ as crystal blues witnessed the positively animalistic way Pere was acting. But shit. He’d said it once, he’d say it again. Mark him down as scared AND horny. 

 Another wild development was how actively motivated his lover seemed to seduce him. Neither of them could pinpoint exactly what she wanted, but some unseen force was convinced that she had to pry it out of him. Which again, kind of scary, but very fun. 

Buggy allowed himself to be thrown back against the sheets, his feral girlfriend climbing on top of him. There was no point in denying her having her way with him; they could both see he was double bricked up on a Tuesday afternoon. 

The soft heat of her cunt settled directly over his cock, his shaft gliding easily against her with the help of her ample wetness. A shudder wracked her frame at the contact, immediately overtaken with bliss. At least that was familiar. 

“Buggy,” Pere groaned, “I want you so bad.” 

A wide grin spread over the clown’s face, the transparency as odd as it was gratifying. He folded his arms behind his head, lacing his fingers together. “Yeah? I ain’t stoppin’ ya.”

That same expression overtook the woman’s features. Feral, angry, hungry. 

Oh boy. 

Chapter Text

The glasses were rose, red, and bloody all at once. The impossible haze that clouded her vision threatened to grow into a nuclear mist that obscured Pere's judgement entirely. No amount of rum, smoke, or adrenaline could match the high speed thrumming of the chemicals racing through her veins.

A deeply buried memory was blurring the surface, racing along the rafters of reason. Something ancestral, undocumented, and unrealized was a butterfly kiss upon her cheeks. The visceral layer of emotional depravity serving as the final soldier against diving deep back into the still water of familial trauma clenched around her heart. 

An important rock of salted earth breaking away shuddered through her consciousness in the form of a waking dream sequence. 

“I don't want to be cold, anymore, flutter fairy.” Cracked lips pressed against soft cheeks, a juxtaposition of the feeling of being held by someone only slightly larger than herself. “You’re growing like the wheatgrass, but you're barely heavier. The ladies in town say I look sweeter lately, but your auntie’s arms are getting weak, baby.”

Why was this conversation so melancholy? The voice in her memory was lady-like and gentle, yet there was something unsaid there. It was a performance, a ruse, a hail Mary in a haunted house. 

“Aa-unne,” sounded in her own voice, a slur of an endearment spoken often, though it wasn't a child’s failure to pronounce. Too old to be held like this. “Will Anthony love me like uncle loves you?” 

It wasn't a scent, or a sound, but fear was there. In the room with them. Hanging above their heads, source unknown. “...times one million, if I have a say with the stars about it. 

A little huff escaped the chest she was pressed against, and the other woman shuffled them across the room to sit down with a younger Pere in her lap. “Aa-unne, were you scared to marry Uncle?” The second relation in that sentence was spoken with a posh undertone that implied a much less intimate familial relationship. 

Pere’s father had a brother, sure, but he was a widowed. His wife had been much younger than him, overly excited about marrying him amongst rumors around town that her own family despised her. Amoreen. Brunette hair streaked with crystalline silver strands that had no business framing a 20-something girl's hair, despite her being the aunt of a teenager. 

“Sure, baby. Auntie’s always been a real scaredy cat.” Why was that voice so tired?

Pere’s own words caught her off guard once again. “Is that why you don't go to the festivals anymore?” 

The memories weren't old enough to be as without context as they were presenting themselves to be. Study and service far more distant than that were far clearer. 

“The trees have always whispered. Our people have always heard them. The orchards and farmland here are richer than anywhere in the world.” A sigh. Amoreen rested her cheek on Pere’s slicked straight styled hair. “I can't speak for the trees, but they're starting to speak for me. And I'm terrified.” 

The dreamy revival ended like the slamming of a coffin lid, taking its uneasy undertones with it. 

Amoreen was dead. Pere was alive. Alive, alive, alive. 

She was so intensely, purely happy, and sharp around the edges to hold onto that emotion. 

Still seated atop her flamboyant lover, she leaned, no, more like rolled, her torso forward to press more skin to his. The smell, sight, and sound of him were kind to her senses. A satisfied groan escaped her throat as she sealed her lips over his again. 

Every sensation was brand new, exciting, and more potent than she remembered. Her nails ranked through his hair in her attempt to grip it, snatching the bandana off and casting it aside. Buggy might have yelped at that, but the redhead paid it absolutely no mind.

All at once, she reached her opposite hand between them and aligned his tip with her opening and sunk down. 

Oh, he for sure yelped that time. 

Control be damned, this was on the level of possession. Every synapse and nerve told her to imprison his breath and body wholly. Sexy? Sure. Concerning? Absolutely. 

It was a crying shame rope wouldn't hold him…

…What the fuck was she thinking about? That was so far out of left field that it was like another voice was speaking above her thoughts. 

Giving into one last impulse, she fisted his hair viciously and bit his lips hard enough to make a normal man bleed. 

Why? So that he'd stop her. 

“Ow! Babe, what the hell?” The clown captain treated her to instant karma, yanking her away by the hair. Well, her head at least. He was still very much balls deep throughout the whole ordeal. 

Attempting to collect her thoughts, Pere grounded herself with the sensation of rolling her hips against his. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she perceived his eyes flicking between the moisture next to her irises and where his fingers were buried in her hair. 

Something wavered in him, as it always did on the rare occasions she cried. 

Should she sink into the emotion, make herself pathetic on purpose, the claws she was digging into his boundaries would sink deeper. It was vicious, dishonest, and oh so tempting. 

“I want—please, please, please…” Pere whispered, feeling the grip on her hair loosen slightly. She was the one that wanted him to stop her, but her insides were fluttering violently around his cock. The fragile self control that she had attempted to piece together paled in comparison to her intense need to be fucked violent. To fuck, violently. 

“Fuckity fuck fuck–” Buggy contended with himself, blessing her with three deep, intentional thrusts of his hips. The sloshing of her too excited flesh further pecked at his resistance of simply allowing her whatever she liked. 

A conversation was taking place through body language alone. 

Experimentally, the clown captain released her hair, though keeping a close eye on her teeth and he resumed the pacing of his hips. The sounds slipping from between the woman's lips were blissful and unholy. 

“Take me, take me, take me, take me–” She gasped out, leveraging her hands against her lover’s chest and meeting him in time with such a passion that her inner thighs would be bruised in the morning. 

Sexy in theory, concerning in the moment. 

Buggy wasn’t exactly the premo role model for keeping his shit together, nor was he able to toe the line between impulse and caution with ant accuracy. Heavy puffs of air escaped his lips as he attempted to drag his psyche back into evaluation mode. “Hold on, y’a getting y'aself worked up, ah–” 

Pere’s nails dug into the softness of his pecs, tears free-flowing in unchained need. Her pussy fluttered around the thick rod stretching her open. “More, please, more more moremoremore–”

“By the–” The dam broke, the powerful man rolling them and flipping their positions. He drove into her mercilessly, cuffing both her hands over her head with one detached limb. The hand of the arm still connected at the join wrapped around her throat, amping up the sensation of being penetrated tenfold. “Whass y'a problem, huh? Greedy little shit.”

Little noises of blissed out approval filled the air. The borderline violence was nearly enough. 

Nearly. 

“I want–” the red haired woman gasped, mouthing syllables around the chokehold on her collar, “I want to hurt y-you!”

The raise of a brow. The tilt of a neon blue head. Buggy chuckled darkly, truly amused. “Well, doll,” he slowed his pace, grinding into the walls of her core full pressure, “we both know y'a can't? That code or sumthin’? Y’a cashing in on when I said I'd do that fucked up shit y'a like?” 

His opposite arm reattached with a pop, immediately going to work torturing her clit. She screamed and squirmed, the pleasure momentarily holding the bloodlust at bay. “I–force me?”

The sigh that escaped the man was long suffering. “Not sure I can force y'a into somethin’ y’a cried and begged for, babe.” Regardless, he switched her into her hands and knees with a bruising grip on her hips. Once there, he resumed his handful of her hair, craning her neck back in such a way that the front half of her body was hovering. Each push and pull verged on pitching her face first into the mattress. “I'm getting annoyed y’a ain't cum at least once–” 

The shudder of a cannon firing too close by sent the couple in the opposite direction, Buggy reacting just quickly enough to shield Pere’s neck from snapping away from her spine from the force of the impact. They crumpled to the floor as the metal ball in theory clawed away the side of the dwelling. The clown took the force on his back, then rolled them to where he was shielding her in the cage of his locked elbows. 

Neither one of them noticed the bed side table tipping until it caught the edge of the auburn woman's head in the chaos. 

All was quiet, and Pere was dreaming again.