perona x reader

"Buwaya, it's terrible hospitality if no one checks on them."

"'Hospitality'? They're not guests. Besides, I don't care for Moria."

"Ugh. I'll go. Be right back, promise."

"I'm timing you."

You swept out of your shared tent. Ever since you picked a long, light strand of hair from one of Mihawk's high collared shirts, you kept an eagle eye of your own out for who it could belong to, with no leads until the two Thriller Bark pirates arrived from Hachinosu and Perona's candyfloss curls shone in the sunlight. They made an odd sight in the light of day much like Mihawk did, at first, until you got used to seeing him with a sun hat in the mornings to tend the small garden he'd started by his tent.

Two of Perona's ghosts stood—floated—guard outside the entrance. Divided though the camp was between Cross Guild and the established Buggy's Delivery, Perona's tent was near Alvida's, and the odd thought came that it might have been yours if Crocodile weren't the way he was. The hollows just looked at you curiously when you approached.

"Perona?" you called clearly.

"Oh, good!" You didn't expect that reaction, but the younger woman pulled the curtain back quickly and grabbed your arm.

Her tent was as sparse as yours had been when you arrived, with only a double bed, currently occupied by a patchwork stuffed animal you couldn't confidently identify, a small desk and chair, and her trunk overflowing with clothes and cosmetics and hats.

Perona pushed a furniture catalog into your hands, and you onto her bed. "You're cute enough so I'll ask your opinion," she sniffed as she pulled the bear? rabbit? into her lap, sitting next to you with the ruffles of her skirt squishing against your thigh. You couldn't be offended since you found her almost unbearably cute yourself, and she smelled sweet, like creme brulee. Was that what did it for Mihawk? You had no illusions that what you did together meant a terribly strong attraction on his end, and it was more than a bit arousing how he treated you like a borrowed toy. But what was the swordsman like with someone he felt was his?

"Honored. What are you thinking?"

"I haven't had a bed canopy in two years," Perona mused, "but is that childish? Princess-y?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. "Princess" slipped past Mihawk's lips once, like a habit, and you caught the split second where his golden eyes widened before he corrected to "pet."

"It might help for privacy here. We have extra drapes in ours." To spare, or maybe deprive your neighbors. You and Crocodile didn't know each other's tastes in explicit terms, but he'd grunted in approval at the blue-blacks and deep, green-leaning turquoise you chose, and the dark navy matched the velvet duster he had tailored for you that same week.

Perona pouted, and her lipstick was the prettiest berry you'd ever seen.

"What's your favorite color?" you asked.

"It changes," she mused. "Red. Blue. Gold."

These two, you thought as Mihawk's glare flashed in your mind. "Black?"

"Well, of course," she said, like it was a given. "Like your hair." She plucked one lock off your shoulder with a coffin-shaped nail, and you shivered, not unpleasantly. "It's the first thing I noticed here. True black, night black." Perona laughed her strange little laugh, and it brought a smile to your face. She was so much more forward than most men you'd been with, although they were each masters of repression, weren't they. Virgos.

"I like yours, too," you said shyly. "Pink's actually my favorite, but no one would think it looking at me."

"Screw them," Perona huffed. She swept one side of your hair behind your ear. "Can I?"

You nodded, not sure what she asked exactly, but all became clear when she stuck her knee between yours, half-straddling you as she brushed the other half of your hair back. She studied your face seriously, like an artist, or a scientist. "So pretty without makeup. I'm jealous."

"Well. Foundation."

"Shh."

You were almost the same height, how you were eye level like this—another novelty—and Perona's dark eyes dropped to your lips. You fought the urge to bite down nervously, instead wetting them before you let the furniture catalog fall to floor so you could cup her face and kiss her.

She was just as sweet as you thought, dark fruit like sugared plums, and she licked into your mouth to reciprocate with an impatient little whine, and she ground against you through layers of fabric.

"Oh—Perona—!" you said in surprise.

"Please—"

And she pulled herself up your thigh, hiking up her skirts so they fanned out and covered you both.

"I saw you and Mihawk," she whispered as you splayed your hands on her back, the bare skin of her shoulder blades, the corsetry on her dress.

"How?" When? You hadn't even spoken since they arrived.

"I use my ghosts as scouts. I've had a few here for"—she whimpered at the denim you wore, rough through her thin panties—"days."

Your already flushed neck got hotter. Two nights ago, Crocodile waved the two of you off to start without him, and it ended with Mihawk taking you to the brink of asphyxiation and the two men cooing over you as you came and cried.

"I asked, he never—ever—wanted to do anything like that," she was saying, her lip wobbling before she hid her face in your neck, breathing deep. "What changed? Is it me?"

"I—fuck—" She dug her knee in sharply trying to find purchase, and it was a frustrating tease of simulation that you knew wouldn't get you anywhere. "Ask him—"

"I tried—"

"Perona—I don't want to talk about him right now—" You just held her as she rolled her hips, and raised your knee to give her a harsher angle as she worked her way past her emotional outburst, eventually kissing your jaw and dragging her tongue along your throat. Your giggle at the sensation turned to a moan, and you held her by nape of her neck, threading your fingers into the roots of her hair.

"You taste good," she said, sucking the skin there, and she hissed as you tugged reflexively.

"Sorry—"

"Harder."

As you obliged, your own busy mind conjured its own theories about Perona's sex life, what she wanted and what she was used to, but you set that aside to cradle this woman through her orgasm, which crashed through with a shudder and her panting hotly against your neck. She pulled her other leg over and straddled your hips properly, peppering short kisses all over your face. "You're so nice," Perona cooed. "So cute. What did that big brute do to deserve you?"

You grinned against her mouth. "He's nice in his way. So's Mihawk."

She huffed. "I don't want to talk about him."

"Seems like you care more about him than getting to know me."

"Hah?" It was indignant and darling. "I'm not done with you yet."

"Good." You awkwardly offered your hand in a close quarters handshake. "I'm Cross Guild's navigator."

Perona took it with a pantomimic flare. "Ghost Princess Perona."

"Is that a formal title?"

"Moria-sama's always said it."

You shrugged. "Good enough." He was an interesting man, too.

Perona tossed her mass of hair over her shoulder before she hooked her fingers together behind your neck. "Alvida said you read tarot."

Of all things... You treated it as a party trick, mostly, and somehow that's what the Guild other than your lovers remembered. "I'm mostly an astrologer." And you could tell her all about his chart, but that felt like a violation.

Her eyes lit up. "Really? Oh." She frowned. "I don't know my birth time."

"We can figure it out." You hadn't rectified a horoscope since you ran away to join the near-literal circus, but you were willing to try. For free, at that.

Perona giggled. "Don't you have to get back to Crocodile?"

"He'll live. You know, I'm supposed to see how that captain of yours is settling in, too..."

At that, she paled. "Not looking like this you aren't." And she rubbed at your jaw, showing you her fingertip with a smudge of pink pigment.

You tilted your head as you looked at her face instead. "Your lipliner is fantastic."

She preened for a moment before batting her pretty lashes at you. "Help me unpack?"

And you'd never understood Mihawk more.