Work Summary:
Buggy did not sail with Roger's pirates, but was found by Roger during his last year of life. Buggy didn't have the father that Shanks had.
Aka: Buggy is Ace's mom.
Yes the title comes from the song I Bet on Losing Dogs by Mitski
Initial Notes:
This was an idea I wrote down in a hurry before I ran out of inspiration so it is subject to future corrections and rewrites.
Let me know what you think ;) and Please read the tags carefully.
*English is not my first language.
My Baby
Buggy was 13 years old when he met the King of Pirates.
The man had arrived wandering to his island, without an extravagant crew, nor a legendary ship in sight. He had appeared on the coast one morning simply riding in an unglamorous boat, making a rather poor attempt to go unnoticed that made Buggy wonder if perhaps even the marines of the Grand Line, so seasoned by their notorious fights with the biggest and most dangerous pirates and criminals from the seven seas were actually as idiotic as the poor devils who from time to time came to wander around their island and who had never in their lives known waters other than those of the South Blue.
Although Buggy supposes to their credit that people were actually blind to things they didn't want to see, since he seemed to be the only person on the island who seemed to realize that the newcomer was more than the lost fisherman he claimed to be.
But hey... Buggy always took great pride in his observation abilities after all.
Although…. Maybe spoke way too soon.
Since the mother of all his problems began when he willingly decided to approach the man.
That was exactly what had led him to his current situation.
Gold Roger, or Roy, as he had introduced himself around his small town, had shown himself to be an open, charismatic, hard-working and honest man who had left his island, seeking to expand his horizons but who had recently grown tired of the hustle and bustle of the waters and decided to get back his land legs by settling back on their lisland to start from scratch.
At that time, Buggy had just been left alone in the world after a bad flu had taken away his last remaining family, leaving him nothing more than a small, ramshackle house on the outskirts of town with nothing more than a few pieces of furniture, a couple of small rooms and a lifetime of memories. The other people in the town made sure that he had food (although the saying that a small town, big hell was true, at least everyone knew each other in such a way that they tended to care for and support each other in the face of adversity) but their attention was not far beyond making sure he was still breathing.
Buggy supposes that made him the perfect person to approach.
Although their town was small, they did have a local inn for the rare occasions when visitors arrived, but it was currently under repairs since the last storm had blown the roof off the second floor - where the rooms were - and also, As Roy had taken care to point out, he was not here as a visitor. He was here with the intention of staying and was interested in slightly more permanent accommodation options than a ramshackle room in an inn.
That's why, after a couple of days of carefully hovering around the man while he was drinking at the bar, and He still didn't know how the hell the conversation had taken that turn, but in some way that he still couldn't grasp, he had made it clear to the man that he was welcome to stay in his cabin for as long as he wanted.
And boy did he take the saying 'feel at home' to heart.
During the day, Roy helped the fishermen, making them get better catches than they had had in years, in the afternoons he spent the same time as a quarter of the town drinking at the local inn, and at night he stayed talking with Buggy, telling him the thousand and one stories that he had lived during his time at sea -as payment for letting him stay with him-
Buggy wasn't an idiot, unlike apparently everyone else in town.
He knew the man was sick - that cough was not the kind of cough one would get over time. It was the kind that when it left, it took you with them. He had seen it in the rest of his family. - And knew that he most likely had his days numbered.
He guesses that helped lower his guard.
As much as the man was currently the most wanted criminal in the world, how much damage could a dying man do?...
And that's how things went up a notch.
At first, the man with the jovial attitude and contagious smile respectfully kept his distance, taking him for a young man more amazed by the idea of adventure, but sooner than later, things took an unexpected turn.
Again, Buggy was no fool - although one could reasonably argue otherwise, given his current situation - he knows that the turning point came when after a few weeks together, he and the man finally managed to meet at bath time.
More precisely, when the man saw what he had from the waist down
Or rather, what he did not have.
The change was subtle and otherwise gradual, but Buggy noticed it.
The way his gaze changed, the way in which when they shared space, the man's hands started reaching out to touch him.
And… Buggy could definitely be called an idiot, because even when he noticed the change… even when he sensed the dangerous direction things were taking… he never stopped it.
why he didn't shy away from his touches.
why he didn't avoid his gaze.
why he didn't step back to maintain his space.
And the small, beggar part of him, the part that still cried for his sister and his parents, the part that suffered from loneliness, the part that was so absolutely touch-starved that purred under his touch...
His gaze…
His attention…
Buggy knew he shouldn't.
He was 13 years old. He knew that the man must not have known his exact age since he could easily pass for someone a couple of years older even with his short stature - and everyone was small next to him - He knew he shouldn't be responding like that to the signals of an adult man who was making very clear his intention to do very adult things with him.
But Buggy was an idiot.
His casual touches as they shared the kitchen space during breakfast and dinner turned into large, firm hands that shamelessly stayed glued to his hips for longer than would be acceptable.
Rubs from behind turned into kisses left on the back of his neck.
The rubs on his wrists became invitations to sit on his lap.
And one day, between drinks and a beer that Buggy was definitely too young to be drinking, the man dragged him by the wrist to his lap, but instead of sitting him on his thighs, he made him spread his own thighs and let them both sides of his hips as he enveloped his mouth fiercely.
Buggy had never kissed before, and the kiss tasted so much like alcohol that Buggy almost felt like the liquor was going to his head just from continuing it. He didn't know how to return the kiss but he did what he could to imitate the man. The kissing session went on for what seemed like hours before the man inadvertently began to move his hips to rub against his, but when Buggy imitated the movement, the man suddenly separated them and ended it right there the evening, getting up to lock himself in his room with a grunt goodnight.
That had been the first time, but it definitely hadn't been the last that they shared kisses.
Buggy realized that that day they crossed a limit, and perhaps that should have been a first warning, but by then his teenage brain was completely drowned by hormones and absolutely determined to exploit this new experience for however long it lasted.
And slowly... the charming stories about adventure, began to become almost delirious whispers about destiny.
Buggy knew it. The supervening mortality of his flesh with the advance of his illness, after having been mounted on top of the world, had made him greedy.
Roger wanted a child.
He didn't need a successor. He already had a son, with a hair red as the blood, brought to him by the sea and fate, who he knew would follow in his footsteps to find Laughtale on his own when the time came.
No.
He was a pirate and had never claimed to be anything other than selfish.
The man wanted to father a child from his own flesh and blood.
And Buggy, who hadn't even been clear with Roy about his age, was still definitely way too young to even think about having one. His blood moons had started arriving 2 years ago. He knew that technically speaking he was already in a position to carry a child. And as much as the old pirate's tales could easily be mistaken for the ravings of a dying man, Buggy would be lying to himself if he didn't recognize that the words about fate and greatness and the haze of hormones generated by the adrenaline of this new experience were not beginning to cloud his better judgment.
And years later, Buggy refused to think that he was in his best sense when he let the man take a place in his bed.
.
The first time he and Roy shared intimacy was equally improvised, but much less rushed. The size difference represented a very clear challenge for things to progress further and Buggy was afraid.
It was ridiculous, He knew it. By then he had more than enough trust with Roy to have formed in him the conviction that the man would never hurt him on purpose...
But Buggy had already been given the talk about flowers and bees a long time ago. He had an idea what was going to happen and didn't know if the big boy could take it without hurting him, but his worries proved to be slightly unfounded.
He and Roy were in the middle of their kissing sessions when the man grabbed him by the hips to lift him up and make him wrap his legs around him to head towards the bedroom without bothering to stop kissing him, when the man placed him on the bed, Buggy realized the man's intentions and his heart began to beat with anxiety and expectation, but when the older man looked at him asking for permission to take his clothes of, he did not stoped him.
Neither did he when the black-haired man started touching his intimacy with the expertise of a very experienced man.
Nor when Roy ate it within an inch of its life for what seemed like ages until he was more than sure it was completely soaked.
Lax and relaxed under his touch. Putty between his fingers. So ready to take him.
Roy entered him very slowly.
Even with the lubrication and previous preparation, the stretch burned.
Inch by inch Buggy felt that he would not be able to take any more and that he would be torn apart.
The muscles at his entrance pulsed and contracted in protest at the thick intrusion as Roy whispered adoring praise in his ear and stroked him gently while telling him to relax and let him enter. Slowly but steadily Roy managed to get another and another inch inside him, while he could do nothing but moan plaintively until the other man managed to get the last inch inside him, pausing to allow him to get used to the intrusion while still whispering in his heard, leaving Buggy completely boneless, panting heavily with unfocused eyes and almost drooling with his face tilted to one side.
Roy waited until Buggy finally swallowed and turned to look at him, limply wrapping his arms around him to signal to the man that he could move.
Buggy could almost feel how the thrusts, although extremely soft, slow and gentle, were practically reorganizing his intestines. Every time Roy stepped back he felt like he would take his insides with him.
When he finally dared to look down, Buggy let out a meow as he saw the union between their bodies. His little slit was completely distended, swollen, red and battered around Roy's cock. His vulva completely deformed to allow him entry, forced to adapt to the man's circumference while he could feel the black-haired man reaching the deepest part of him and the bulge that was forming in his belly did little to hide it.
Even with the copious amounts of lube glistening between them, Buggy didn't know how he hadn't torn apart yet. He deeply appreciated the gentleness with which Roy was taking it because he was sure that if the man were a little rougher he would have ripped him open.
The gentle thrusts continued, with Roy barely daring to pick up speed to pursue his own release, inside him, grinding into his cervix. The last thing Buggy could feel before fainting was how the thick veins of his member were throbbing as he pumped load after load directly into her uterus with every intention of breeding it.
.
Buggy learned the hard way that, once let loose, Roy was worse than a dog in heat.
The man insisted on getting between his thighs whenever he could.
In the mornings, Buggy would wake up lying on top of the man, brought to wakefulness by the gentle movement of the man's hips with his flaccid member inside him, searching between soft and lazy thrusts for the first orgasm of the morning to start the day off right. Sometimes the man would wake up already hard and he would simply grab Buggy's thighs with those big, rough hands that could almost surround them completely, and proceed to wake up Buggy with quick and brutal lunges while Buggy could do nothing but meow desperately, doing whatever he could to steady himself on his chest, using it as a cock sleeve to masturbate his morning wood.
At night the man always managed to coax his way between his thighs. Sometimes the man would convince him to go around the house, only with a shirt that was too big for his frame and lift him onto his lap, so that he could ride him right then and there, on the dining room chair. Sometimes during dinner preparation, the man would rub his crotch against his butt to show his interest, and if Buggy was in the mood too, he'd fuck him right there within an inch of his life from behind on the kitchen counter.
But there were also times when they managed to get to the bedroom. When Roy rode him on the bed, slow, but strong and deep, Buggy's shy 5 feet tall barely allowed him to see the wall of muscles in constant, undulating movements that were the man's abs, his hips relentlessly pushing him against the bed. and forcing him to open his thighs as much as he could to give him the space he demanded while the man clung to the sheets with straight and tense arms far above his head so as not to crush him under his weight and maintain a minimum of self-control so as not to hurt him.
Buggy had never felt so small as when Roy's 7 feet of pure muscle were riding him in the privacy of their room.
.
The days passed slowly but immutably. The weeks turned into months and a tiny lump began to appear in the lower part of Buggy's sunken belly. Roy smiled like a madman the first time he noticed it, his big rough hands constantly looking for it and covering it. His cough was getting worse and worse and they both knew that their time together was ending. Roger had already confessed his plans to go big and Buggy couldn't say he was surprised. Soon it would be time for Roger to leave.
With his last wish fulfilled, there was no longer any need to keep the world waiting.
.
Buggy was 13 years old, and for the first time in months, he was back again completely sunk in loneliness. Roger was gone and Buggy was not sleeping better trying to convince himself that he had not left this world and that any day he would reappear on the horizon in his ridiculous fisherman costume.
But he wasn't completely alone... and he never would be again.
A little baby grew curled up under his heart.
His small, fragile, and most beloved secret.
Rumors had arrived about the search for a possible baby, heir to the cursed blood, and the authentic witch hunt that was being carried out in search of it.
Luckily for him, Buggy had an advantage on his side: Everyone was looking for a woman carrying a baby.
Buggy was not a woman, and no one would take the growing bloat in his belly as anything other than some intestinal problem or fat.
No one could know about the secret fruit that grew inside his womb, not even his neighbors. He knew they weren't bad people, but he couldn't risk the most valuable thing he had ever had in his life. No one had known what had happened between Roger and him behind closed doors, it had been their secret, only their to know and enjoy, but if they knew that this child had come from his own flesh, due to the time that had passed it would only be a matter of Add two and two to know that who the other parent had been him.
.
Buggy is 14 years old and doesn't know if the man had told the truth about destiny whispering in his ear through visions, or if the man had simply been desperate and he was the first thing he found, using sweet and reverent words about visions and destiny simply as an excuse to get into his pants.
In retrospect, Buggy became more and more convinced that it was the latter.
But right now that was no longer important.
Not with the sweet little boy just a few hours old in his arms whom he had been fiercely hiding from the neighbors and who was currently happily suckling at his breast with all the carelessness in the world and about to fall asleep, completely unaware of his position in this world.
And Buggy has just realized that Roger did not leave him as empty-handed as he originally thought after all.
Buggy could be a starving orphan, with no special talents or abilities that would make him anything special in this world.
But his son...
Oh, his sweet baby boy was the fucking Prince of Pirates.
The blood that ran through his veins was the blood of the Great Ones. The same blood that ran through the veins of the man who had been at the top of the world.
H is little baby was carved out of the same wood that those who rule over the seas.
Those men and women that, in the little forgotten corner of the world that was that damn island, sounded more like myths and legends than actual flesh and blood. Their lives mere fairytales brought by the newspaper.
Yes, Buggy could be a poor soul who would never amount to anything in life, a footnote in the book of history, a coward who had nothing to offer to the world.
Deep down... Buggy always knew that he would leave this world in the same way he came to it; Being a nobody between these four ramshackle walls.
But his baby...
His boy would do extraordinary things.
Right now he was nothing more than a tiny little newborn who lived happily clinging to his breast, drinking every drop of milk he could produce with the little food he ate.
But one day when he's big and strong... the world will be his.
As it had been to his father before him.
And that was much more than Buggy would have ever dared to aspire to.
He would never be anyone, but his son would not share his fate. The blood in his veins would twist the very threads of destiny and ensure otherwise.
Thanks to Roger, the boy who had grown up nestled under his heart would not have that same fate and that was the best gift that a person like Buggy could ever dream of.
And when a few weeks later an old Marine came looking for his baby on behalf of a dead man, he blatantly lied to him, telling him that he was his dead sister's son- even when he was still bleeding after giving birth - and that he would have to kill him to separate them, forcing the old man to take him too.