Chapter Text
With dinner time rapidly approaching, a slightly irritated and needy Buggy finds himself sitting in bed next to Mihawk. He’s been sitting there pouting, making the smallest sighs every so often in hopes of getting some attention from his boyfriend, but to no avail. Mihawk ignores his presence, opting to read a book that’s literally about growing plants instead.
Ah, the world’s strongest swordsman is a terrifying man indeed.
Buggy sighs again, this time a little louder, hoping that he’ll finally get some much needed attention, and when he fails to earn even the smallest glance from Mihawk, He folds his arms over his chest and frowns. He’s really just going to keep ignoring him, huh? This sucks, Buggy thinks, and afterwards finds himself thinking for the umpteenth time tonight that Mihawk is purposely turning the pages to his book too loudly just so he can piss him off. What's so great about that stupid book anyways? It looks boring.
Mihawk is a boring old man, and Buggy doesn't want to look at him and his boring face anymore, so he decides he’s going to redirect his attention to across the room where Mihawk has his sword leaned up against Crocodile’s desk instead. He swears one of these days he’s going to figure out how to mentally blow that thing to pieces, until then he’ll just have to settle with glaring holes into it.
The door to the captain’s quarters creaks open and in walks another boring old man, "Shit, it's cold out there," Crocodile complains, joining the other two former warlords in their shared sleeping quarters. Should have froze out there, Buggy thinks as the frown on his face grows. If he would have turned into a giant icicle, then Buggy would’ve had one less old man telling him what to do to worry about.
"You still being pissy?" Crocodile asks after lighting up one of his cigars.
Pissy? Who’s being pissy? Buggy’s fine, he’s never been fucking better actually. He shoots a glare at Crocodile, feeling bold and uncaring of any possible repercussions he might face from his actions, "Piss. Off." he replies, punctuating each word in his sentence before quickly looking away from him. He's really pushing his luck at this point, but what is Crocodile going to do? Punish him? He's already doing that, and it's fucking annoying.
Ugh. They’re the absolute worst and Buggy hates them. He hates them, he hates them, he hates them. He’s mad. He’s horny. He’s mad and horny, but are they going to fuck him? Nope. And he isn’t allowed to even touch himself, all because they say he’s been too bratty and impatient as of lately, and now they have to, “teach him a lesson about patience.” How is doing this going to teach him anything?
"Watch it," is all Crocodile says in response to his little comment, “Maybe a good meal will make you feel better. Galdino’s making–”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Whatever,” Crocodile shrugs, walking over to the side of the bed where Mihawk’s sitting to give him a peck against his temple, “What about you, sweetheart? Are you hungry?” Oh, barf, Buggy thinks, cringing slightly.
“I could eat.” Mihawk hums, finally setting his stupid book down and giving Crocodile a gentle smile.
Buggy gags slightly. Oh, look at us, we're so happy and in love. Muah, muah, muah. They’re disgusting, and very heartless because they don’t seem to care in the slightest that Buggy's miserable right now. Good freaking grief, he’s so horny that it’s kind of concerning. What if… What if he actually contacted some rare sex virus that he doesn’t know about, and is going to die if he doesn’t get fucked ASAP? Huh, then what? Can they live with themselves knowing that they’d be responsible for Buggy’s premature death?
Buggy watches, mentally shooting daggers at Mihawk’s back, as he gets out of bed and grabs ahold of Crocodile’s hand, obviously ready to have a stupid romantic dinner without him. That’s okay, he doesn’t want to sit in the stupid kitchen on Crocodile’s stupid ship and eat Galdino’s dinner he made for them anyways. "Are we not going to fuck tonight?" He asks, finally voicing the question that's been on his mind all night and doing so before Crocodile and Mihawk actually have the chance to leave the room and forget about him.
"Not if you continue being insufferable, we aren’t. " Mihawk replies.
"You're so fuckin–"
"Say it. "
The glare that Mihawk sends his way is enough to make any complaints Buggy has die on the spot. He hastily breaks eye contact with him, pouting slightly as he mutters a quick, "Nevermind." This sucks. They suck. When exactly is this little lesson of theirs going to be over? "I… I'm going to sleep." He announces quietly a moment later, though he's not actually tired.
For the record: It’s been seven days, six hours, and fifty six minutes since the last time Buggy’s had a dick in him, and if you ask him that seems a little criminal. And also, for the record, he hasn't been, "Absolutely horrible," or, “A fucking brat." During this boring ass trip Crocodile and Mihawk, but more specifically Crocodile, forced him and everyone else on the crew to go on. If anything, he’s been on his best behavior. Not once has he begged either of them to drop what they’re doing and give him even a second of their attention during this, “Important business trip.” or whatever the hell it is. Not once!
Okay, he did it one time.
Okay, okay, he did it a couple of times! But he only did it when he really needed some affection. He’s been dying for some more hugs or kisses, or like, a quickie, but Mihawk and Crocodile have constantly been busy and have barely given him any attention. But that’s fine! It’s not like he pouts and complains if he doesn’t get his way because he’s so used to being spoiled that now when they don’t give him what he wants his natural reaction is to throw a tantr–
Okay, maybe he threw a couple of tantrums and tried provoking them a few times, fucking sue him! He’s naturally needy, and it’s just… Just, what they’ve been giving him isn’t enough for some reason. He needs more affection, even if it’s the smallest little thing like stroking his hair or giving him a nice, long hug. Or even railing him over the kitchen table
You know, the smaller things.
The frustrating thing is there hasn’t been much time for anything these last few days and it seems like they’ve been stuck in a loop: They get up, have breakfast, go over what everyone’s going to be doing for the day, do their own respective duties, come back to Crocodile’s ship if they ever even left it, have dinner, go to sleep, and then repeat the whole process the next day. It’s been like this for a whole week. Seven whole days, and Buggy swears that he’s barely gotten any attention from his two partners since they’ve set sail.
It’s always, “I have something very important i have to take care of right now,” or, “Don’t give me that look. You know I have to go meet up with someone in five minutes.” and sometimes even, “I’ll give you all the attention in the world once I come back to the ship tonight.”
He’s tried to be reasonable, but all he’s been receiving is constant excuses and empty promises that neither Crocodile nor Mihawk can keep at the end of a long, grueling day because most of the time they don’t have enough energy to drink a glass of water, much less give Buggy all the attention he needs. This trip has been horrible, and he doesn’t know how much longer Crocodile is going to insist they be docked at this stupid island so he can recruit more stupid members of Cross Guild, and meet with stupid bounty hunters to pay them off for hunting down stupid marines, or do whatever else he’s been planning on doing. All Buggy knows is he wants to go home.
(Also, he really wants to have sex, or maybe just the privilege to be able to jerk off without having to worry about the masturbation police getting mad at him and punishing him. Well, punishing him more than they already are.)
Before those two horrible old men leave the room, Mihawk turns and squints at Buggy, “That’s fine. But remember: if you touch yourself without mine or Crocodile’s permission, you’ll regret it.” This guy’s like a broken record! Buggy bites back the urge to frown or say another comment that might possibly get him in even more trouble, and instead, he glances over at Crocodile with his best puppy dog eyes, “Croc-”
“You heard him.”
Buggy parts his lips, fully prepared to start complaining, but he never gets the opportunity to. The conversation is done and over with, and after giving Buggy that friendly reminder, Crocodile and Mihawk both leave the room. You know what? Buggy’s done. No, he’s more than done.. He’s agitated and he needed to get fucked senseless, like, six days ago. Which is why he decides that today he’s going to throw caution to the wind. With a huff, he stands up and walks over to their bedroom door, locking it and afterwards returning to the large bed in the center of the room.
“If you touch yourself without permission, you’ll regret it.” Buggy repeats Mihawk's words, rolling his eyes as he mocks him. Oooh, he’s so scared. What’s the guy who was just reading about daisies going to do to him? Beat him to death with a bouquet of flowers?
Buggy’s not afraid of those two geezers.
He lies on his back, allowing a shaky hand to hook into the waistband of his pants, then pauses for a brief moment. He certainly isn’t hesitating and making sure that the other two are actually gone before slipping his pants and underwear off. No, because that would imply that Buggy is actually afraid of how they might react if they find out that he’s going to jerk off.
And he certainly doesn’t care what those two think. He tugs down his pants and underwear in one smooth motion and then afterwards takes his shirt off, finding every piece of clothing he’s wearing to be just a little too constricting or hot at the moment. He pauses again, hearing footsteps outside the captain’s quarters, but quickly dismisses the sounds as one or maybe several of the other members of the crew probably heading to the kitchen to get dinner. He reaches over to the nightstand at the side of the bed, digging inside until he manages to pull out an almost empty bottle of lube. He can hear Mihawk’s voice at the back of his head, warning him that if he really goes through with this and touches himself without permission, then he’ll get punished.
Pft, he’s already being punished though, so what are they going to do to him?
Buggy knows the answer to that question actually, and a very familiar scene plays out in his head; one where Crocodile has him thrown over his lap, and there are tears forming in his eyes as the other man brings his hand down to strike the already red flesh of his ass, over and over again. Perhaps it’s a flashback or maybe even a vision of what’s to come, either way, it makes a sense of dread wash over him. They won't find out, it’ll be fine. He tells himself. Besides, even if they did find out, whose fault is it that Buggy got so frustrated and decided that he was going to touch himself? Theirs because they’re the ones who haven’t been giving him enough affection.
Buggy finds a comfortable spot on the bed, ignoring that something in his gut keeps telling him that he shouldn’t be doing this, and pours lube into the palm of one of his hands. He’s already hard, and he made that fact blatantly obvious to Mihawk earlier, which is probably one of the reasons why he doubled down on his whole, “Blah, blah, blah, you’re not allowed to touch yourself, brat.” bullshit.
Who even needs those two anyways? Buggy thinks, clicking his tongue before he reaches between his long legs and wraps his hand around the base of his already painfully hard erection, grip nice and loose as he gives himself a couple of slow pumps. In reality, he should probably make this quick, or at least that’s what the rational part of his brain keeps trying to tell him. The very prideful, irrational part of his brain, however, says that he can jerk off all night if he wants to, and there’s nothing anyone will be able to do to stop him.
Seriously, what does Buggy have to be afraid of? He’s the one who’s supposed to be in charge here. He’s the one who’s supposed to scare and threaten people with the thoughts of punishment. Plus, Buggy has the prestigious title of being one of the four emperors, and the government wouldn’t just hand that title to just anybody. Obviously, he got his position by being one of the roughest, toughest pirates out on the sea, one that can strike fear into people just from looking in their general direction!
So, he definitely isn’t afraid of his two lackeys and wouldn’t let them humiliate him, or allow them to boss him around, or listen to them if they told him to get on his hands and knees and raise his hips high in the air so that they can spank his ass until it’s red.
….
But if he did allow such a ridiculous thing to happen to him then he can handle a few swats to the ass. He says bring it on! Ten spanks, twenty spanks, even thirty spa– Well, maybe even the great and mighty Buggy The Clown can't handle thirty spanks to the ass, especially if the one spanking him is Sir Crocodile or Dracule Mihawk.
Whatever. Buggy doesn’t want to focus on the possibility of actually getting punished. So instead he takes a shaky breath and closes his eyes, letting the courageous, yet admittedly a little irrational, side of his brain win as he continues to glide his hand up and down his aching cock with lazy, unhurried strokes.
His cheeks begin to flush as memories from about a little over a week ago flood into his brain. He’s ashamed to admit this, but the things that he let Crocodile, his supposed lackey say to him… were… Oh, god. He let that man take him in the bathroom of all places, fuck him against the sink and all while he was doing it, he would whisper in a breathless voice some of the most degrading things anyone’s ever said to Buggy.
“You’re fucking pathetic.” He told him.
And, boy, was it hot.
It shouldn’t have been hot though, that comment alone should have made his blood boil and he should have thrown a look over his shoulder and told Crocodile to fuck off, or punched him in the face, or something… But Buggy couldn’t even find the insult offensive, his brain was fuzzy and his attitude and all the fight he had in him had been fucked out of him. So, yeah maybe it was a little pathetic.
“What would your crew think of you if they heard you right now?” He distinctly remembers Crocodile asking him, then afterwards began to ridicule even his littlest mewls.
“Ah, Crocodile, Crocodile.” He’d sneer, obviously taunting him while he fucked him, but in a weird way turning him on even more. What a fucking asshole. It was hot. Crocodile’s so hot. But the thing is, Buggy didn’t fully comprehend that he was chanting things like, “Oh, god. Please, don’t stop.” or, “Fuck. Right there. Right there!” until Crocodile repeated his words back to him.
Buggy’s one of the four emperors for crying out loud and he cannot stress this enough but: people should fear and respect him. But Crocodile doesn’t give two flying fucks about anyone’s status in this world, and that’s why he had no problem teasing him and had even less of a problem grabbing him by the hair and forcing him to look into the bathroom mirror as he slammed into him relentlessly all while he continued to belittle him.
“Fucking look at you.”
For the record, though it might be sexy in hindsight, at the time being forced to look at his reflection while Crocodile fucked him was enough to make him want to shrivel up and die. It was embarrassing: his flushed cheeks, his lustful unfocused gaze, the way his mouth would drop open and an obscene moan would fall out of it every time Crocodile would hit his prostate. It was too much to look at, but Crocodile made him do it and would stop moving his hips any time he tried to close his eyes or look at something else in the room.
“You’re supposed to be one of the four emperors, but you look more like a filthy slut to me.”
Oh, being called a slut definitely shouldn’t have turned him on back then, and the memory of being called one shouldn’t add fuel to his current arousal right now either. But as the scene plays back in his head, Buggy gasps, his hand gaining just a little bit more speed and momentum as the thoughts of all the horrible things Crocodile called him the last time he fucked him flood into his head.
However, calling him a filthy slut and mimicking his every little moan was only the beginning of things because the next thing Buggy knew…
Oh, god.
Crocodile… he had the arrogance, no, the audacity to ask, “Are you a fucking slut, Captain Buggy?”
And Buggy recalls trying to shake his head to the best of his ability because a tiny bit of his pride came back to life at that moment and wanted him to say: “ No. No, I'm not a slut.” Though, he never actually vocally denied anything, just continued to moan. And of course, his moans earned him another condescending laugh, “Fucking liar.” Crocodile sneered, then gave him a slap to the ass that made him jolt forward and let out another needy moan, and at that point, he was really starting to feel like he was going to come.
And he vividly remembers telling Crocodile that he was going to come too, and that he clicked his tongue in response and said, “Don’t you fucking dare.” And Buggy’s poor brain was so confused and desperately searching for reasons as to why he wouldn’t be allowed to come. His first thought was: Did I do something wrong? And he even considered apologizing, though he wasn’t quite sure what he would be apologizing for.
His legs were shaking though and he was gripping onto the edge of the sink for dear life, begging and pleading for Crocodile to let him come all whilst things like, “I’ll be good.” and, “Please, Please, Please.” left his mouth in broken, breathless sentences. His begging only got him more taunts though and another cruel cackle from Crocodile.
“Are you sure you aren’t a slut?”
And that’s when Buggy finally pieced together all the pieces of the puzzle and realized what Crocodile wanted from him. He’s awful. He’s vile. He’s cruel and corrupt, and Buggy’s never meant anyone he’s hated as much as he hates Crocodile when he’s on one of his power trips. He bit his bottom lip and then afterwards put aside what little bit of pride hadn’t been fucked out of him and muttered quietly, “I’m a slut.” It's another thing that, in hindsight, shouldn’t have been as erotic as it actually was at the moment, but, god, did saying those words make him, along with Crocodile’s victorious laughter afterwards, feel like he was going to come on the spot.
To be absolutely humiliated shouldn’t have turned him on like that, but he’d be a liar if he said it didn’t.
And the funny thing is… Well, not funny in a ha-ha way, it was more like funny in a, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” way actually… Anyways, the funny thing is: Mihawk opened the door to the bathroom while Buggy was in the middle of not only getting fucked, but saying the most humiliating thing he’s ever said in his life. And Mr. Cold and emotionless himself actually found the scene in front of him to be rather amusing.
It was awful and he just wanted to run away and hide somewhere, but things got worse. Somehow they always get worse for Buggy, because the next thing he knew Crocodile was ordering him to repeat what he just said. And, oh, god, Buggy shook his head at that and thought there was no way he could let himself say something like that again even if he needed to come so bad that he was on the verge of tears. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t. He told himself he’d rather not come at all if he had to say something like that again.
Crocodile would never let his defiance spoil the mood for him though, no, never. Instead, he rolled his eyes at him, “Cat got your tongue?” he asked, scoffing afterwards, “Fine, suit yourself.” he muttered before he began slamming into him harder, thrusts becoming rough and sloppy and without any rhythm. And Buggy pleaded with him to let him come, especially once his thrusts started knocking the air out of him and he started to lose his grip on the sink and had to pretty much be held up by Crocodile with one arm.
He begged and pleaded, and cried, saying he would behave and that he would listen to him and do whatever he told him to do if he just let him have his release, but Crocodile ignored him. His goal was obviously to humiliate him more and he wasn’t going to let him have even an inch of satisfaction until he finally gave up and threw away his ego and feelings once and for all.
Buggy caved.
Crocodile won, again. And Buggy’s entire face was set ablaze as he practically screamed out, “I’m a slut,” Once, twice, maybe even thrice. He doesn’t remember, all he remembers is desperation taking over him and feeling like he was literally about to spill all over the floor because Crocodile was fucking him a little too good.
Remembering that very moment in time, makes his face feel hot and he finds himself suddenly wishing he had Crocodile’s thick cock inside him again. But Crocodile’s not here, and even if he were, he probably wouldn’t put his dick inside him anyways, so Buggy’s fingers will have to do. Even though he’s completely alone in the captain’s quarters, he feels a little shy as he rolls over onto his stomach and then raises his hips in the air. As he coats his fingers with lube, inside his head he hears a cocky voice ask him a very familiar question:
“Are you a fucking slut, Captain Buggy?”
Crocodile is really fucking awful. Buggy quickly shakes the thoughts from his head, ashamed that the memory even popped up in his mind again as he reaches behind him and eases a finger into himself.
As soon as he manages to work a second finger in along the first and find just the perfect rhythm, Buggy closes his eyes again, thinking about how that night Mihawk just stood against the doorway, watching them with an interested look on his face and how that certainly didn’t make things any easier for him. Buggy might have a thing for people watching him get fucked, but he can’t confirm nor deny it at this moment of time.
Anyways, once Buggy embarrassed himself again, Crocodile chuckled, then proceeded to glance over at Mihawk, “What do you say, Hawkeye?” Crocodile asked, grunting in between each brutal thrust, “Should I let our little clown come?”
He hates them both actually, not just Crocodile. And he hates how Mihawk really took his time considering whether or not Crocodile should let Buggy come. But in the end, he sighed, he actually fucking sighed, like letting Buggy come was an inconvenience, “I suppose that would be okay.”
And, boy, does Crocodile laugh at that response, loud and annoyingly because he thought it was all a game. They both did actually. “Did you hear him, clown?” He jeered, “He said you can come.” He slapped his ass again, then angled his hips just right so he’d hit his prostate every time he slammed into him and told, no, ordered him to come at the same time he did. Arrogant prick, is all Buggy could think as their pants and moans started blending in with each other.
As soon as he got permission to come though, he started stroking his cock, fast and sloppy and desperate to finally obtain the prize that he worked for, hoping that nobody was around to hear all the unfiltered whines coming from his mouth as he chased after his orgasm because honestly he didn’t want to know the answer to the question Crocodile asked earlier that night.
“What would your crew think if they heard you moaning like that?”
God, he still doesn’t want to know the answer to that.
If memory serves him right, then he’s pretty sure Crocodile actually came a few seconds before he did, but as soon as he slammed his hips into Buggy’s prostate and grunted loudly into his ear, Buggy lost it, coming hard and spilling into his hand as his orgasm finally hit him. Fuck, it felt too good, too fucking good for a fuck session that involved Crocodile degrading him ninety-nine percent of the time.
He also remembers his entire body instantly turned into jello the moment he came and he would have collapsed if Crocodile weren’t holding onto him so tightly. There was a full minute of blissful silence as they both tried to catch their breaths, but Crocodile had to go and ruin it. Of course, he did. “Good job, Champ,” He muttered softly to him as soon as he was able to form a sentence again, and Buggy swears he wanted to punch him in the face because he’s such an idiot.
Whatever.
He was pretty confident that his night of fun was over with and was ready to yell at Crocodile to let go of him and get ready for bed, until Mihawk chimed in all of a sudden, and uttered one sentence that to this very moment gives Buggy goosebumps and fills his gut with arousal every time he thinks about it.
“Let me eat you out, Buggy.”
He. He. Oh, god, he really said.
“Let me eat you out, Buggy.”
A sudden bang jolts him out of his memories before he has the chance to relive the rest of them, particularly the part where Mihawk, that’s the same pure, almost crude swordsman that half the time cringes when too much spit gets involved with sex, said quite clearly that he wanted to eat Buggy out, then proceeded to do so even though Buggy literally had Crocodile’s come in his ass. But that’s neither here nor there.
Buggy freezes, heart pounding in his chest as he’s prematurely snapped out of his lust-filled memories. He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping, praying even, that the person at the door is a lower ranking member of the crew or even someone like Alvida or Galdino, but as soon as the person on the other side of the door speaks up, it’s painfully obvious that he’s in deep shit.
“The fuck did you lock the door for?” Crocodile calls out, voice gruff and sounding slightly irritated. Why did he lock the door? Oh, well, obviously he locked the door so he could masturbate but he can’t just say that, can he? So, instead Buggy says the first thing that comes to his mind, “Uh…” He trails off, hoping that Crocodile won’t be able to tell that he’s out of breath, “i’m changing.”
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
When has Buggy ever locked any door to change? He doesn’t have to lock doors, nobody would dare barge into a room that Crocodile, Mihawk, and he are sharing, that would be just asking to be killed, and Buggy’s stupid ass knows that. He’s screwed, he’s so screwed.
“Whatever. Just let me in.”
“Um… Um,” Buggy hesitates, both brain and body struggling to process the situation. “Can you, um, give me a few minutes, baby?”
“I just want my–”
“Just five minutes!”
There’s a brief pause that makes Buggy almost want to throw up, but eventually, Crocodile replies, “Fine, Fine. Just come get me when you’re done.” Did it work? He waits a moment, trying to listen for any kind of sign that Crocodile might actually still be outside the door and he’s just pretending that he left.
The problem is he just can’t tell, and he wants to do the smart thing for once. His fingers feel so good inside him, but he needs to make this quick. He needs to get out of this compromising position and just hurry the fuck up and…
And, before he can even finish his thought, he hears the door unlock and it suddenly pushes open. He doesn’t know how to salvage the situation fast enough, “Fucking hell.” Buggy yelps, face heating up as he becomes painfully aware that he’s just been caught fingering himself. He instinctively pulls his hand back and hides underneath his blankets, hoping that Crocodile, (He knows it has to be him.) didn’t get a good view of him.