Smoker X Reader - Blog Posts

HHHHHHHHH damn damn damn

Do you have any drabbles or HC of Crocodile or Smoker being an “ass” kind of guy or loves grabbing ass?

I have a problem. I say "Drabbles" and "HCs", then suddenly it ends up as a full fic. Smoker is an ass man. I don't make the rules, he just is.

It's A Need

Masterlist here

Word Count: 1,400+

Synopsis: you were caught out of wearing your government official uniform, and your superior noticed. He pulls you into his office to give you a formal reprimand.

Themes: Smoker x reader (written with afab! in mind, but no gendered terms), MDNI, 18+, ass grabbing, ass kissing, ass worship, lingerie mentioned (thong), pet names: doll, established relationship. superior x underling, no smut, just suggestive.

Notes: He's just been on my mind lately, and nothing can stop me writing about him at this stage. Do what makes you happy - Smoker certainly is.

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

The initial invitation into his office with a gruff, barked order had you immediately standing to attention. Following behind him with your head affixed to his back with every step, you remained truly unprepared for what was to come. 

“Strip,” he grunted, sitting on his desk chair in a heavy thud. His knees were parted, his boots laying perpendicular to his desk chair legs. He reclined with a soft cough, looking up at you through his eyelashes with his gaze feeling both menacing, punishing and possessive.

“Excuse me, sir?” you responded, your eyes widening in shock. He reached for his cigars, placing two between his teeth and igniting them with his flintlock lighter. 

“You always question your orders from your superiors?” his growl flew from the reserves in his chest, the crackled exhale of smoke clouding the room with wispy vapors. 

“No, sir,” you retorted, immediately reaching for your jacket and uncinching them from their holes. You place your jacket on the chair by the door, noticing he had locked it behind you both once you entered. 

Your boots were next to follow, placing one after the other beside your uniform jacket with your socks hanging limply over the ankle holes of your shoes. Remaining in your undershirt and pants, you lace your hands behind your back and look up at him. 

“Did I tell you to quit strippin’?” he inhaled a mouthful of cigar smoke, holding it for a moment before exhaling, “I said ‘strip’, not ‘stop’.”

Wincing a little at his words, you unbutton your pants and remove your belt before hoisting the cotton shirt over your head and to the side over your jacket. Just as you hooked your shaking hands in the waistline of your pants, he stopped you. 

“Turn and face the wall,” he commanded, leaning back in his chair, “And then keep going.” You swallowed, nodding your head before turning around and meeting your gaze with the plaster wall in front of you. 

Slowly inching your pants over your ass, you heard an audible click in your superior’s tongue and the shuffle of his seat rolling back behind him. Your pants pooled at your ankles, urging you to step out of them and stand to attention with your hands behind your back. 

Standing with legs parted and shoulders arched back, your undergarments left very little to the imagination and barely shrouded your ass as the material collected itself in the center and hoisted sinfully over your hip bones. 

“Just as I suspected,” his voice called from the other side of the room, the sizzle of his cigars slowly being pressed into his copper ashtray had the room begin to smell of stagnant smoke. “You're not fully dressed in your uniform today. None of that is World Government issued.”

“I can explain, sir,” you manage to stutter out, halting as you hear his boots begin to approach you. 

“Explain why you're wearing a thong in lieu of your uniform?” he snickered, finally approaching you and hovering his form behind your back, “Now, this I gotta hear.”

You inhaled a shaky breath, feeling flustered about standing in practically nothing while your superior examines you. His powerful aura intimidated you, especially knowing he was so close to your body and likely to give you a more formal dressing down the moment you attempt to speak. 

“It was laundry day, sir,” you began, prompting a small ‘mmhm,’ from behind you, baiting you into attempting to explain yourself further, “I lumped mine in a shared basket with some of my barracks’ men, and they got lost in the sorting piles.” 

“They got lost, hm?” his rumbled voice growled at you. You felt his hand gently grasp at your hips, hooking the small piece of material within his index finger and flicking it back at you, “And you thought wearing this, instead of wandering into the uniform office on the first floor and gettin' yourself another couple backups, was a viable solution.”

“I didn't want to disappoint you, sir,” you admit with a small squeak at the flickered material, “I know how you despise tardiness more than you conduct uniform checks. I-...” his hand traveled over your ass and gently grasped it within his splayed fingers, “...I wasn't expecting you'd be looking close enough to notice, sir.”

He hummed behind you, gently drawing up his other hand and caressing your flesh within both of his hands. 

“You think I wouldn't notice how fucking good your ass looks in your uniform, that it?” he gave your ass a light slap, soothing over the sting immediately thereafter with a coarse rub, “Think I wouldn't see how it bounces with every step? How it looks grinding against the fabric?” 

Another heavy slap clapped against your skin, prompting you to suck your lips into your mouth and bite down to stifle the whimper from tumbling over your tongue. 

“Nothing to say for yourself?” he whispered, his lips grinding against your shoulder and threatening to kiss it, “After all these months of seeing each other, you thought I'd let it slide? No fuckin’ way.” 

You keep your eyes firmly fixed on the wall in front of you, gently focussing your breathing while your partner, and superior officer, manhandles you in his office. 

“What do you want me to do about it, sir?” you kept your tone steady, unwavering and attempting to remain as unemotional as you could while he rakes and scrunches his broad hands over your ass. You stifle a moan as he slaps the flesh hard, hearing the rumbled groan falling from his lips at the sight of your exposed flesh jiggling in front of him. 

“I haven’t thought that far ahead, doll,” he whispered beneath his breath, “Legs a little wider for me.” You obeyed, inching your heel and toes to the side and bending a little at the knees, and arching your back. The huffed whisper of, "Fuck, just like that," fell from his lips as he tapped and wiggled your flesh in his hands, prompting you to draw a soft smile up your cheeks. 

“I'm not going to get any work done dressed down like this, sir,” you warn him, still ensuring you use his appropriate title in his office.

“You're not gonna get work done, period,” he growled, the scrape of a chair moving behind you had your smile draw up further as you fought the urge to shake your head. 

He sat on the seat behind you, gently kneading and tugging at the flesh of your ass, his voice growling with soft huffed moans each time he witnessed the flesh jiggle. 

“It’d be easier on the both of us if you just move in with me already,” he growled, reaching down with his face and pressing it to the middle of your lower back. He circled his arm around your thigh, reaching to cup and cradle your body against his face while his other hand groped and cupped your ass cheek.

“While it would make our little trysts more convenient, it would make it harder to accept away missions from headquarters, sir,” you affirmed sternly, prompting him to growl against your skin before pressing a trail of firm kisses down your coccyx and pulling you closer. He took the material of your thong in his teeth, tugging it outwards and watching it snap back against your flesh.

“It would ensure your uniform remains undisturbed and unscattered,” he hummed against your skin, moving his other hand to join the other snaked around your thigh, “And it would also mean I’d get to see your ass as soon as I need to.” 

“As soon as you need to, sir?” you hum back your tease, feeling the way his teeth and lips began to enjoy your ass.

“It’s not a want anymore, doll,” he whispered against your skin, a soft groan in his chest, “It’s a need. Move in with me and let me worship you. I’ll treat you right, just-...” he kissed just above the material of your thong before tugging you down to sit on his lap, “Just move in with me already, or I’ll have no choice but to take you into my office and spank you whenever my craving for you gets too damn much.” 

He pressed his lips against your neck while he dug his hands into your thighs, motioning you to grind your ass against his already swelling cock beneath his uniform pants. 

“Alright, fine,” you whine, already feeling worked up by the way he manhandled you earlier, “I’ll move in with you.” 

“Knew you’d see it my way,” he muffled into your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your neck while grinding his clothed cock between your ass cheeks, “Now let me have you once before you get back to work, alright?” You lulled your head back into his chest, managing to whisper through your desires.

“Aye, sir.”

I am a selfish woman but it’s so worth it this is adorable 💕 thanks a bunch

Smoker for Kissing Booth please? 💕🌻

The Kissing Booth: Smoker for Sunflowersatori

Word Count: 850+

Notes: I hope you enjoy some dad-jokes. Ever since I saw the pants and the ice-cream, I couldn't stop slipping some cringe humor into his kisses. I hope you enjoy your kisses from the vice-admiral, sunflowersatori!

The corner of your lips upturned as you heard a small child cry out in glee at winning a prize. Humming briefly, you shake your head and deeply inhale through your nose to take in more of the surroundings. 

Caramelizing sugars in the heated cylindrical dome rose towards you, as did several meats and vegetables smoking over an open fire. As you continued your analysis, you could almost smell your next guest before you heard him approach the table. The sour scent of cigars caused you to recoil slightly, shaking off the heady scent of tobacco-laden nicotine. 

Several leaves were placed beside you in the glass container, a gruff cough grunting out as you heard a larger body sit themselves down on the wooden stool in front of you. Alongside the cigar scent, the lingering woody scent of pine and oakmoss aftershave caused your brows to furrow inquisitively. 

“M’sorry to do this to you,” the rumbled baritone called in front of you, the stool scuffing the floor as he inched closer to you. “My-... uh-... underlings decided to force me to come to your booth. Not somethin’ I’d ever seek out for myself.” You sink back in your seat, pursing your lips and folding your arms together in disapproval.

“No, no, no. Not that I don’t think you’re-...” he trailed off, attempting to back track his words while growling under his breath, “...I’m just gonna dig myself a hole no matter what I say now, aren’t I?” 

“Seems that way, yes,” you admit with a small scoff. You heard him chuckle in response to your retort, his body beginning to descend closer towards you. He placed his hand over yours, drawing your digits up to his face and permitting you to dance your digits over his cheeks to map his face before your kiss.

“Just so you know who your kissin’,” he whispered, his face near inches away from yours as you rolled your thumbs over his face. His heady aftershave swirled your mind as you flicked over the coarse skin on his cheeks and chin. 

“Thank you,” you whispered in response, gently lacing your fingers over his cheek to card through the cropped hair at the nape of his neck, “Very considerate of a man who was priorly digging himself such a deep hole.” 

“What can I say?” he whispered, his breath tingling your lips due to his close proximity, “I’m a kind and considerate excavator.” You fling a carefree giggle in the air before finally pressing your lips to his.

His lips felt chapped, subtle creases in his upper lip that indicated the puckering grimace of a nicotine addict. He drew his broad hand down to cup your thigh as he dominated your lips with his almost immediately.

Circling his chin and changing angles of his kiss, he hungrily sought out more of your lips and mouthed at you to open yourself up to him. His tongue darted out to dance with your own, the slow grind atop your own tongue holding a lingering taste of sour smoke. 

You continued to press lengthy movements of your lips on his, slowly dragging your hands at the base of his neck and raking your digits down towards his chest. He hummed into the kiss, his nose brushing against yours as he switched angles once more before ending the engagement. 

Pulling away from your lips, he softly rumbles a soft chuckle. Reaching his hand up from your thigh, he slowly thumbs over your bottom lip and caresses your cheek gently. 

“I’ll, uh…” he sheepishly chuckled with a breathy sigh, “I’ll be back to plow you some more later.” You immediately furrow your brows and downturn your prior smile and clench your teeth. 

“Excuse me?” you recoil away from his grip, sitting back against the barstool. He immediately staggered over his words, coughing before reaching into his jacket pocket and rustling his hand around.

“I just meant, from our earlier hole digging-...” he trailed off, prompting you to shake your head and huff out a small laugh. He joined your laughter with a chuckle of his own, flicking back the metal flint to spark the heat of a small flame. He rose to his feet, sliding back the barstool and sighing deeply. 

“Enjoy taking your quarry somewhere else for a couple hours,” you giggle at him, your tight-lipped smile withholding your more unbridled laughter, “I don’t mean to bore you, but I’ll be planted here for a little while longer.” 

“Oh, you’ll be mine soon enough,” he chuckled in response, reaching down and grasping your hand, raising it to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. He turned away from you, walking back over towards his subordinates and verbally chastising himself. 

“I’m a kind and considerate excavator?” he growled, sucking in a heavy lungful of his twin cigars, “What even is that?” Shaking his head, he spared you one last glance over his shoulder, noticing your kiss-bruised lips and subtle fluster on your cheeks. He can’t wait to see you again, if that’s at all something you would want from him.

All the child fics I see have the child as a little ray of sunshine that’s loved to pieces by everyone, but I think it would be a little funny if they found a kid that was rather awkward instead. If you have any suggestions on other awkward kid reader like scenarios or other characters go ahead and request.

Shanks, Buggy, and Smoker with an Awkward!Child Reader.

Shanks

“Oh! Hey, there’s some kids here.” Shanks crouches down and speaks to you, but you quickly shake your head. “Listen, I know you aren’t the best at socializing but just try it out. Just for a bit?” He’s a bit worried, you don’t get to be with other kids much being on the Red Force. Looking into his eyes you start to feel a bit guilty, eventually nodding your head. Shanks smiles brightly “Great! C’mon, I’ll make sure you’re safe, okay?” He picks you up and goes over to the kids playing. Once you’re both close enough he sets you down, but you just stand there. He gives you a little push and you stiffly walk to the kids. They spot you and you freeze.

“Huh? Who are you?” They walk over to you and you go as still as possible. “Hello?” One of the kids waves a hand in front of your face but you just stand there like a statue. Shanks looks on, worried that you’ll get bullied. He shakes his head.

‘No, I should have faith in them as their father.’ He thinks to himself as the kids gather around the new strange child. They just kind of stare at you. One of the kids pokes you and you flinch.

“They move! How do you get all frozen like that, are you made of stone?” Your eyes slowly trail to your dad, nervous. He just gives you a thumbs up. Shanks gets approached by someone.

“Chief? Oh it’s you!” Shoot, he’s starting to get recognized, this damn hair. He has to entertain them a bit before they finally go away. Shanks quickly looks back to you, worried. The kids have.. started stacking things on you.

“Woahh…”The kids marvel at you. You have multiple blocks on your head, your stillness keeping them from falling. That’s… one way to socialize I guess. Your record is 10 blocks.

Mihawk

Mihawk holds you in his arms, he had taken you in a few months ago even before Cross Guild. To be honest, he was hesitant to bring you with him, but it was already known he had a child by this point. It’s safer to keep you where he can be with you, it’s one of the reasons he joined. Having a stable place to stay is best for you. Another worry he had is that the clown and Crocodile would be a bad influence on you, that you would turn into some sort of delinquent. Children can be unpredictable, and easily manipulated. However, that ended up not being the case. In fact, they seemed to be a good influence. Not because they were passing on good features, no, it was simply because you disliked them enough that you marked them as “bad examples”, he couldn’t be more relieved. It’s unfortunate you don’t make friends but this is better than becoming anything like Buggy or Crocodile. They had even attempted to appeal to you, trying to befriend you to have some sort of connection to Mihawk. Buggy so that Mihawk would be softer on him, Crocodile so that Mihawk would have incentive to be loyal. It didn’t work out. Crocodile realized very fast you were terrified of him, he isn’t the best with children either; and there’s too much risk trying to get close to you when your father hates when you’re scared. Buggy however…

“Hey, kid, here.” Buggy offers you candy, you stare at it then slowly back away, clearly uncomfortable. “Ah, uhhh.. What about this?” He starts to juggle, but you also look nervous, looking away. ‘This damn brat, aren’t kids supposed to like clowns?’ He curses in his head, but keeps a smile on his face. Finally, in one last effort, he pulls off his head and starts to do tricks with his limbs. “See? Cool isn’t i-” When he looks at the spot you were in you’re gone, like a mouse that skittered away. “God dammit, fucking kid.” Right as he says that he feels an intimidating presence behind him, hawk eyes digging into his back. He might be fucked.

Smoker

“Sea prism works on devil fruit users like Captain Smoker and this person. That’s why you don’t have to be scared, they can’t do anything to you.” Tashigi explains to you, holding the sea prism cuffs. She’s babysitting you for a bit while Smoker is taking care of business since you can’t exactly be left alone at your age. You had gotten startled by a prisoner being led to jail earlier, so she was explaining how they’re harmless with the cuffs on; even showing them to you. “You want to hold them?” You slowly nod and hold them in your little hands, they’re kind of heavy. While you’re looking at them Tashigi looks to the door, Smoker is back. “Ah Captain Smoker you’re ba-”

Click

…Oops. You put them on by accident. Immediately you start to panic, trying to get them off your wrist. “Ah, wait, I can just take them off for you. Stand still!” You’re panicking too much though, waving your arm around while Smoker sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Before she can grab you though, you end up flinging the cuff off of your wrist. It was too big to fit you anyway, the key wasn’t needed. Unfortunately, you end up flinging them directly at your dad, hitting him on the head. He flinches and falls back, the sea prism making him weak. “Captain Smoker!” He falls to the ground and you freak out like a startled cat, running around the office while knocking things over. Tashigi, flustered, doesn’t know what to do first. The cuffs slide off of his body and he moves again, grabbing you by the back of your shirt like a kitten. “I’m so sorry, sir I didn’t think-” He raises a hand to stop her.

Your father looks at you, your face guilty, and sighs. “It’s fine.” The office is a mess now, it’s actually a bit impressive. At least he doesn’t have to worry about people catching you. “No more cuffs.” He’ll worry about the office later, you’re more important.

Captain for a Day

When Smoker lends you his giant Marine coat to keep warm, you accidentally become G-5's newest "Vice Admiral" for the day — much to his horror (and secret amusement).

smoker x gn! reader | ONE SHOT Tags: fluff, sfw, G-5 chaos a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc word count: 938

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

You should have known better than to complain about being cold on a Marine base, of all places.

Especially near a certain grumpy, cigar-smoking, Vice Admiral.

It was a chilly morning on G-5 base, and you were standing awkwardly near the training yard, your arms wrapped around yourself. You hadn’t realized just how thin your jacket was until the cold ocean wind decided to slap you right in the soul.

"Cold?" Smoker's gruff voice rumbled from behind you.

You turned to find him standing there, arms crossed, two cigars burning away like little smoke chimneys.

"I'm fine," you said, teeth chattering audibly.

Smoker narrowed his eyes at you for exactly 0.2 seconds before shrugging off the massive white Marine coat draped over his shoulders — you know, the one with the fuzzy collar, the gold epaulets, the one that absolutely screamed Important Marine Guy.

Before you could protest, he was tossing it over your head like a blanket.

"Don't argue," he muttered, already turning away like it was no big deal.

You froze under the weight of the coat. It was huge. It practically swallowed you alive. The hem almost touched the ground. You could barely peek out from under the fluffy collar.

You stared after Smoker’s retreating back, then tugged the coat tighter around yourself.

Warm. Very warm.

You weren’t going to complain.

The first salute happened thirty seconds later.

You were shuffling across the training yard, trying not to trip over the coat, when a young Marine spotted you.

"VICE ADMIRAL, SIR!" he barked, snapping to a crisp salute so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.

You blinked at him. "Uh… what?"

The Marine’s face turned beet red when he got a closer look at your very not-Smoker face, but he'd already committed. He stayed frozen in salute until you awkwardly shuffled away, half-waving.

Maybe that was just one guy, you thought, chuckling to yourself. No big deal.

It was not one guy.

Within an hour, you had been saluted by no less than twenty Marines.

Two mistook you for some "new Vice Admiral from Headquarters" and started escorting you around the base like bodyguards.

One extremely nervous ensign offered you his lunch.

Another, somehow, asked if you needed a "cannon fired in your honor."

You tried to explain that you were just borrowing the coat.

You really tried.

But the moment you said "I'm just—", some recruit would shout "SIR, YES SIR!" and start sprinting laps around the yard to "impress" you.

At one point, you caught a glimpse of yourself reflected in a window.

The Marine coat — slightly too big, regal-looking, with the Justice kanji on the back — Your slightly confused but determined expression — The way you nodded politely whenever someone yelled "Vice Admiral!" —

You looked like a tiny, lost, but somehow commanding officer.

You laughed until you almost collapsed.

The situation escalated — fast.

At lunchtime, Marines cleared an entire table for you at the mess hall.

They nervously placed a "Reserved for Vice Admiral" sign (hastily made with a napkin and a fork) in front of you.

You tried to slip away quietly, but every step you took, another Marine would open a door, bow, or panic because "the Vice Admiral needs more soup!"

By the time you escaped to the courtyard, you were slightly dizzy from all the awkward attention.

This is getting ridiculous… you thought.

You needed to find Smoker and give his damn coat back before this turned into a full-blown military parade.

You found Smoker near the docks, yelling at Tashigi.

He noticed you instantly — hard not to, considering you were basically wearing his entire upper wardrobe — and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"You," he growled, stalking over.

You gulped. "Smoker, I can explain—"

Before you could say more, two Marines sprinted past, saluting so hard their hats flew off.

"VICE ADMIRAL! BASE SECURITY IS DOUBLE-TIGHTENED AS REQUESTED, SIR!" one of them screamed.

"I… didn't request that?" you said weakly.

Smoker stared at the chaotic scene unfolding around you. Marines were tripping over themselves trying to impress you. Someone started unfurling a "WELCOME, HERO OF THE SEAS" banner.

Another Marine dropped a crate of cannonballs at your feet, panting, "For your personal arsenal, sir!"

"… What the hell," Smoker muttered under his breath, smoke billowing furiously.

You gave him a sheepish little smile from under the fluffy collar.

"Maybe your coat's a little…too recognizable," you offered.

Smoker dragged a hand down his face, groaning.

Tashigi tried very hard not to laugh — she failed.

"You’re returning the coat," Smoker grunted five minutes later, practically yanking it off you himself. (Gently though. Very gently.)

"Aw, but it’s so warm," you teased, shivering dramatically once it was gone.

He huffed and — to your complete surprise — slung an arm around your shoulders to pull you close to his side, sharing body heat like it was no big deal.

"If you keep causing scenes like that, I'll have to promote you," he muttered gruffly.

You choked on your own breath. "Promote?"

Smoker shrugged, totally deadpan. "Captain, minimum. Maybe Commodore. Depends how many idiots you can wrangle."

You grinned up at him. "Does being Vice Admiral's favorite qualify me?"

His lips twitched, just slightly.

"Maybe."

.

.

Rumor traveled so fast through G-5 that by sunset, the base was convinced that Smoker was secretly training you to be his "successor."

You and Smoker both refused to confirm or deny it.

(Privately, Smoker started carrying a second coat around. "In case you get cold again," he said. Totally deadpan. Totally not flustered.)

(You kept stealing it anyway.)

Smoke Break

A collection of fiery, smoky encounters where passion burns as hot as the cigars and blunts exchanged between you and some of the world’s most dangerous daddies i mean men — every kiss laced with smoke, heat, and unspoken desire.

Benn beckman x reader x sanji x smoker x crocodile | ONE SHOT

Tags: fluff, flirty, smok!ng, w3ed mentions, blvnt smok!ng, cigarette smok!n, mouth-to-mouth sm0ke sharing, minor spit description, light nsfw tension

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc

word count: 3.3k

MINORS DNI!!

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

Is it hot in here or is it just me?

I'm so high in here, been smokin' on this weed

Only drug a bitch is on is the tree

But I lasted ten rounds like a freak

Like a G

Benn Beckman

The deck still stank of gunpowder and sea salt by the time you slumped onto the steps leading up to the helm, boots heavy with exhaustion. Your knuckles throbbed from the earlier brawl with some no-name pirate crew dumb enough to pick a fight with the Red Hair Pirates. You won, obviously—but victory didn’t erase the tight coil of stress still buzzing under your skin.

You dragged your hood up over your head, shielding your face from the low sun. Hands steady, you pulled out a battered little tin from your pocket, the familiar ritual already soothing your frayed nerves. You broke down the nug slowly, fingers working with careful, practiced motions. You barely even registered the distant sound of boots approaching.

Benn Beckman stopped a few feet away, cigarette halfway to his lips, brows lifting slightly at the sight of you hunched over the tray.

He leaned against the rail, arms crossed.

"Rough day?" he drawled.

You didn’t look up right away, just finished rolling your blunt with a lazy flick of your thumb. When you finally glanced his way, your gaze was cool, detached—like you were sizing him up and decided he wasn’t worth worrying about.

"Nothing a smoke can't fix," you muttered, voice low and even.

Benn whistled low under his breath, impressed.

"Didn't think you were the type to roll your own medicine."

You snorted, lighting the blunt with a snap of your lighter.

"Cigs are for rookies," you said, plucking the cigarette from his fingers without asking. You tucked the blunt between his lips instead, your touch casual, intimate.

Benn played along, inhaling deep. His eyes hooded slightly as the taste hit him—stronger, sweeter than he expected.

"Holy shit," he coughed out, laughing.

You took the blunt back from him with two fingers, tapping it lightly against the railing.

"Too much for you, old man?" you teased, the faintest smirk curling at the edges of your mouth.

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that vibrated in his chest.

"Old enough to know better. Dumb enough not to care."

You offered the blunt again—not by hand this time, but by leaning in, smoke trailing from your lips in a lazy, tantalizing swirl. Benn caught on quick, closing the small distance between you. His mouth brushed yours just enough to catch the exhale directly, smoke passing from your tongue to his.

The heat flared instantly.

Before you could pull back, he tilted his head slightly, deepening it into a kiss—slow, languid, tasting of smoke and adrenaline. His hand found your jaw, rough thumb grazing your cheekbone with a kind of reverence that didn’t match how fucking cocky he was about it.

When you finally parted, a thin, silver thread of spit clung stubbornly between your tongues until it snapped, leaving a hot smear of want in its wake.

You sat back, lazily dragging the blunt between your lips again. Your expression barely shifted—still that same unreadable cool—but your hooded eyes glittered with something dangerous, something alive.

Benn wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, grinning like he just won the biggest prize in the world.

"You always this generous after a fight?" he asked, voice low and rough.

You exhaled slow, letting the smoke roll between you both like a secret.

"Depends who's asking."

Benn’s grin widened, cigarette long forgotten at his side.

"Good," he said, leaning in close enough that you could smell the faint whiskey on his breath.

"'Cause I’m not planning on being just a one-time habit."

Sanji

The galley was quiet at night, all the chaos of the day gone still. It was your favorite time—when the ship seemed to breathe slow and easy, and nobody was around to bother you.

You sat perched on the counter, blunt half-rolled between your fingers, working fast but precise. You glanced around — no way in hell you could borrow a lighter from anyone without exposing your little habit.

Of course you didn’t bring yours. Of course.

You sighed through your nose and hopped down from the counter, moving toward the stovetop. You twisted the burner’s dial, letting a tall flame lick up from the gas, the soft click click whoosh breaking the silence.

You leaned into the flame, lighting the tip of your blunt directly against it, shielding it with one hand like an old habit.

That’s when you heard a low whistle behind you.

"You know," Sanji’s voice drawled from the doorway, lazy and amused, "most people come to the kitchen for food. Not... that."

You turned slightly, the blunt between your lips, glowing softly as you took your first pull. You held his gaze through the smoke, your expression unreadable, unbothered.

"Guess I’m not most people," you said coolly, exhaling a slow, thick ribbon of smoke into the low light.

Sanji didn’t flinch. Didn't fawn.

Instead, he grinned, a slow, dangerous curve of his mouth as he stepped into the kitchen, cigarette tucked behind his ear, hands sliding easily into his pockets.

"You could've just asked for a light," he teased, voice like silk and heat. "I would've given it to you. Anything you want."

You shrugged one shoulder, casual.

"Not exactly advertising my hobbies."

Sanji stopped a few feet away, head tilting just slightly, studying you. You could feel the weight of his gaze — not heavy, not invasive — just... there, like a hand trailing just over your skin without touching.

"You're full of surprises," he murmured, voice dipping lower.

You took another hit, slow and deliberate, letting the thick taste settle on your tongue. As you exhaled, Sanji moved closer, crossing into your space so naturally it felt like gravity.

"Mind if I...?" he asked, eyes dropping to the blunt between your fingers.

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer with words. Instead, you leaned forward slightly, parting your lips just enough to offer the smoke right to him.

Sanji caught the game instantly.

He plucked the cigarette from behind his ear and set it on the counter. Then he leaned in, mouth brushing dangerously close to yours—not kissing, not yet—and drew the smoke straight from your mouth with a slow, deep inhale.

His hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing the warm skin behind your ear.

When he exhaled, it was right against your lips, warm and intoxicating.

The space between you crackled.

You barely had time to process before he closed the gap completely, his mouth pressing to yours in a kiss that was all slow burn, all slow claiming. His grip tightened just a little, guiding you against the counter behind you without force—just the kind of confident pressure that made your stomach flip.

You kissed him back, matching his heat with your own, the taste of smoke and fire mixing between your tongues. When you finally parted, a thin, sticky thread of spit clung between you, snapping when you tilted your head back, breathless but still wearing that same cool smirk.

Sanji stayed close, his forehead brushing against yours, his fingers still tangled loosely in your hair.

"You," he said, voice low and warm, "are way too dangerous to be left alone in my kitchen."

You chuckled, flicking ash into the sink.

"Then don’t leave," you said, voice lazy, teasing.

Sanji smiled against your cheek, teeth just grazing your skin as he whispered,

"Wasn't planning to."

And from the way his hand slid down to your hip, you knew he meant it.

Smoker

The port was busy, noisy, and reeking of salt and sweat.

Perfect place to disappear for a while.

You slipped between two battered brick buildings, finding a patch of shade away from the main street. No patrols, no Marines. Just the low hum of the sea and the sharp scratch of your lighter as you tried, once, twice — and cursed under your breath.

Dead. Perfect.

You rolled the unlit blunt between your fingers, considering your options. Borrowing a lighter wasn’t on the table — too many judging eyes. Especially for someone like you, already treading too close to the Navy's leash.

"Problem?"

The deep, rough voice made you freeze. A shadow stretched into the alley. You didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

Vice-Admiral Smoker stepped into view, coat draped over his broad shoulders, two cigars clamped between his teeth, smoke curling around his head like a storm cloud.

You gave him a flat look, the blunt dangling lazily from your lips.

"No lighter," you said simply.

Smoker snorted, amused in that dry, almost imperceptible way of his. He pulled one cigar free and tucked it into his coat, flicking his silver lighter open with a smooth motion.

He lit his remaining cigar, took a deep drag — and then, without saying a word, held the lighter out to you.

You raised an eyebrow but leaned forward, cupping a hand around the flame as you lit the blunt, your face close enough to his chest that you could smell the faint scent of smoke, leather, and something warmer underneath.

You inhaled slow, savoring the first pull, then leaned back against the rough brick wall with a sigh.

"Didn't peg you for the sharing type," you said, smoke curling from your mouth.

Smoker grunted, replacing the cigar between his lips.

"Don't make me regret it," he said, but there was no real bite in his voice.

For a moment, you just stood there, passing slow, lazy pulls between you. The world outside the alley blurred into meaningless noise.

Then, bold from the buzz creeping in your veins, you leaned forward again—holding the blunt between your fingers—and offered the smoke directly to him, a silent challenge.

Smoker’s gaze sharpened slightly, amused. He plucked the cigar from his mouth and stepped into your space, his broad chest almost brushing yours.

Without hesitation, he caught the smoke straight from your lips, leaning in so close you could feel the heat of him — and then, instead of pulling back, he kissed you.

It was rough at first, full of the same heat and tension that always seemed to spark between you. His hand came up to cradle your jaw, fingers pressing firmly as he tilted your head back just slightly.

You opened for him without thinking, the kiss deepening into something slower, hotter — tongues brushing, breath hitching between you. His mouth tasted of smoke and salt and something that was just him.

The world outside the alley dissolved entirely.

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t messy — just breathless, lingering. His forehead rested against yours, both of you catching your breath in the haze of smoke curling between you.

"You," he muttered, voice low and thick, "are nothing but bad news."

You smirked against his lips, your hands still fisted loosely in the fabric of his coat.

"Good thing you’re terrible at saying no," you murmured.

Smoker let out a rough, half-laugh, half-growl, and kissed you again—deeper, slower, like he had no plans to stop this time.

And honestly, neither did you.

You barely had time to settle into the heat of Smoker’s mouth again, the slow grind of his body pressing yours back against the brick wall, when—

"S-smoker-san?!"

The sharp voice cracked through the alley like a gunshot.

Both of you froze.

Smoker broke the kiss with a low, almost feral growl under his breath, his hand still curled possessively around your waist.

You cracked one eye open lazily, barely lifting your head from Smoker’s shoulder to glance toward the entrance of the alley.

Tashigi stood there, sword awkwardly bumping against her hip, her entire face rapidly turning the color of a boiled lobster.

"I— I— I was looking for you to discuss patrol routes— but I can—! I can come back later!" she sputtered, already halfway turning on her heel, practically tripping over herself to get away.

Smoker let out a long, slow exhale through his nose, the kind of breath that usually meant someone was about to get absolutely wrecked—but he didn’t move away from you. His hand stayed right where it was, fingers still flexing slightly against your hip.

"You’d better," he said, loud enough for Tashigi to hear as she fled back into the chaos of the port.

You couldn't help it—you laughed. A low, smoky sound that vibrated against his chest.

"Think we traumatized her," you said, voice rough with amusement.

Smoker shot you a sideways glare, but there was no real fire behind it. If anything, he looked... pleased. Dangerous. Like a man who didn’t give a damn who saw what he wanted.

"Serves her right for barging in without knocking," he muttered, gruff.

You arched a brow, grinning lazily up at him.

"Maybe you should install a door in your alleys."

Smoker huffed a laugh — a real one, low and brief — and bent to kiss you again, less careful this time. Hotter, a little messier. His free hand finally dropped the half-burned cigar, grinding it under his boot as he pressed you back into the wall, fully claiming your mouth again like he had all the time in the world.

And honestly, for once, you hoped he did.

Crocodile

The lounge was dim, soaked in the kind of golden light that made everything seem a little more expensive than it probably was.

Low jazz music played from hidden speakers, and the soft clink of chips and whiskey glasses filled the background.

You slouched lazily in a velvet armchair near the back, rolling the blunt between your fingers, cool and unbothered. No one really noticed you here — not with the heavyweights and high-rollers stealing the spotlight.

But, of course, he noticed.

You felt it before you saw him — a shift in the room’s atmosphere, a change in the way conversations dropped to murmurs.

Crocodile’s presence was like a thundercloud creeping over sunny skies.

You kept your expression blank, indifferent, even as you realized your lighter was nowhere to be found.

Perfect.

Exactly what you needed.

You sighed, the blunt sitting unlit between your lips, considering your next move.

A shadow fell across your table. You didn’t bother looking up.

"Need something?" Crocodile’s voice rumbled, amused.

You tilted your head slightly, fixing him with a bored stare, the blunt still balanced at the corner of your mouth.

"Seems I’m short a flame," you said, voice dry.

Crocodile’s lips curled around his cigar, eyes gleaming with something sharp and entertained.

He didn’t say a word.

Instead, he bent slightly at the waist — slow, deliberate — bringing the burning tip of his cigar close to the end of your blunt.

Too close.

He stopped just shy, forcing you to lean in to meet him.

You exhaled through your nose, slow and steady, and leaned forward, lips brushing barely near his cigar, lighting your own off the glowing ember. The flame caught with a faint crackle, a tiny hiss.

The whole time, Crocodile didn’t move an inch.

The smell of smoke, expensive leather, and something faintly spiced wrapped around you like a second skin.

You leaned back into your chair, taking a long, slow pull from the newly lit blunt. The first hit bloomed warm in your lungs. You exhaled lazily toward the ceiling, your eyes half-lidded.

"You're welcome," Crocodile said, voice dripping with dry amusement, straightening to his full height.

You tapped ash into a crystal ashtray nearby without even glancing at him.

"Didn’t say thank you," you replied coolly.

He chuckled — a low, dangerous sound that vibrated in the base of his chest.

"Didn't expect you to."

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The tension crackled softly between you, thick and slow, like molasses dripping from a knife.

Crocodile shifted, the gold of his rings catching the low light as he pulled a chair up to yours — close enough that his knee brushed yours under the table.

Deliberate.

Territorial.

"You planning to cause trouble tonight?" he asked, cigar smoke curling lazily around his words.

You blew out another cloud of smoke, just as lazy, just as unbothered.

"Depends," you murmured, voice low. "You planning to stop me?"

Crocodile smirked around his cigar, eyes gleaming with something dark and hungry.

"Not tonight."

He sat back, perfectly relaxed, the image of a king amused by the antics of his favorite piece.

You could feel his eyes on you as you smoked, weighing every slow drag, every lazy exhale.

Watching.

Waiting.

The house always won in places like this.

And tonight, it was clear you weren’t going anywhere.

The minutes slipped by in a slow, heavy haze.

The blunt burned low between your fingers, each drag slower than the last. Across the small table, Crocodile watched you like a predator sizing up easy prey — not rushing, not moving, just waiting for the exact right moment.

You met his gaze through the rising smoke, your face blank, but your heart starting to thrum a little harder behind your ribs.

He shifted finally, leaning forward slightly, elbows braced on his knees. The gold of his rings caught the light again, flashing like a warning.

"Come here," he said lowly, almost conversational, like you were a thing he fully expected to obey.

You didn't move immediately. You took another lazy pull from your blunt instead, blowing the smoke off to the side with a small smirk. Testing him. Pushing.

Crocodile huffed a small laugh under his breath, all amusement gone razor sharp.

Without warning, he reached across the table, hand catching you by the wrist — not rough, but firm, dragging you forward until you were pulled out of your chair and into his space.

The blunt dangled forgotten from your fingers as he leaned in — close enough that you could see the faint scar cutting across his face, the glint of amusement and warning in his heavy-lidded eyes.

He reached up with two fingers, plucking the blunt casually from your grip and setting it in the ashtray with a careless flick.

"You’re slow," he murmured, voice like warm gravel. "Let me show you how it's done."

You barely had time to process it before Crocodile’s lips crashed into yours.

It was rough — like he was making a point. His mouth devoured yours with an intensity that was unexpected, yet exactly what you needed. His cigar still burned between his fingers, and before you even had the chance to think about it, he tilted the cigar toward your lips, offering the smoke as you kissed.

The warm, glowing tip of the cigar hovered near your mouth, and you instinctively opened up, taking in the deep, spicy taste as you inhaled. The heat of it filled your lungs, mixing with the taste of Crocodile’s kiss — rich, dangerous, intoxicating.

You pulled back just a bit, lips brushing against his, then exhaled slowly, the smoke curling out from your mouth and into his.

Without breaking eye contact, Crocodile inhaled the smoke you gave him, his gaze darkening as he held it in for a beat, then exhaled it slowly, sending it back toward you.

The air was thick now, saturated with smoke and the lingering taste of him. Every breath felt like it stretched the moment, making it last forever, and yet, you knew it was only a brief exchange.

When he pulled away, his lips were curved into that same smug, dangerous smirk.

"Better," he muttered, voice rough with satisfaction. "Now you’re getting it."

You smirked back, though your chest felt a little tighter than it had before.

"You’re insufferable," you said, the words coming out softer than you intended, but your heart was still racing in your chest.

Crocodile chuckled low, the sound like a dangerous promise.

"Only when it suits me," he said, leaning back in his chair and taking another slow drag from his cigar. He didn’t look at you directly but you could feel the weight of his gaze on your lips. "You’ll learn, eventually. That’s how the game is played."

You stayed there, breathless and still, as the tension simmered between you.

The house always won.

And tonight, you were playing Crocodile's game

Smoker x afab reader

Small drabble

Warnings- bit of an age gap, NSFW, cigarettes (ofc)

Read under cut!!!

“Smoker… please…”

“Please what?” He grins into your folds and continues to drag his wet muscle against your clit.

“Fuck… mmm~ ahhh~ please smoker! Please fuck me!”

“Patience. We have to losen you up. You know I’m too big for you.” He brings his cigarette to his mouth and inhales deeply before blowing the smoke on your needy pussy. He laughs. “Can’t have you crying like last time.”

“I promise I won’t cry! Please fuck me!” You were too needy and you needed to feel him more. You felt weak under his touch. You felt hot all over. He’s the first man that’s ever done something like this with you as you are much younger but he was too experienced which made you insecure. Yet no matter what he did or said you were on your hands and knees for the older man 24/7 ready to give your self all to him.

“Sweetheart… you are crying right now.” He takes another deep inhale of his cigarette this time blowing the smoke in your face before biting your bottom lip and then kissing it. He latches his lips onto yours. His mouth tasted weird because of the smoke and cigarette but you didn’t care. The kiss was hungry. It was all teeth and tongue.

You moaned louder into the kiss as his thick fingers pound into you. His palm slapping your clit with each trust. You break from the kiss as you throw your head back onto the pillows in bliss.

“You sound so sweet for me darling. Go on, moan louder so everyone can hear how good I’m treating you. How I’ve managed to get a pretty thing like you wrapped around my finger.”

“Yes yes yes yes! Fuckkk~ smoker!” You felt the knot in your stomach about to burst. Your breaths getting shorter and shorter.

“That’s it. Cum for me and then maybe I’ll finally fuck you till you can’t cum anymore.” He slams his fingers harder and harder against your core.

As you release onto his hand, you arched your back and twitched, each time cumming more and more onto his hand. Your moans almost like screams.

“Smoker…” his hand now wet from all your juices. With the same hand he removes the cigarette from his mouth and hands it to you.

“Hold onto to this for me baby. I’m going to fuck you so hard till the only thing you see is stars. You are going to wish you haven’t begged me to fuck you and I’m not going to stop even if you cry.”

You smirk taking the cigarette into your mouth inhaling. “I’d like to see you try old man.” You exhale in his face.

“I’m going to make you regret that.”