Naps To Lovers?

I love the energy of this guy

Did anyone happened to make a list with all the episodes of One Piece in which Buggy appears?

Aftercare (Buggy x GN!Reader)

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, mentions of sex, things get emotional at the end - poor communication, mentions of insecurities and crossed boundaries, crying, but things are alright in the end. Word count: ~1k A/N at the end. 👀

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

When Buggy gets into aftercare, he does it so right. It takes time (a lot of time) and multiple tries for him to understand what aftercare is, why it’s important, and what to even do. And once it clicks, he is all in.

At first, he’d try to clean up using whatever was around. Discarded clothes were the usual, but the scolding he received when he tried to pull off a pillowcase turned things around. A little. After that, he’d send a hand off to grab a towel, if you didn’t grab one beforehand.

Eventually, Buggy realized he could keep towels near the bed. It worked out well, actually. He found space for a few different sizes - small washcloths, hand towels, and full-size towels - so there were always a few options. The washcloths were also helpful whenever he forgot to wipe off his face paint before bed.

If you two banged anywhere other than the bedroom, he’d offer his bandana to clean up. That was acceptable the first few times, but it was still kinda gross. He noticed the grimace you made one time and started carrying alternatives. Spare (unworn) bandanas, which worked as an extra accessory. Or scarves tucked in a sleeve, which could be used as an impromptu magician’s trick.

Want a snack? This was never a problem for Buggy, actually. He had food hidden around the bedroom. Everywhere. Near his bedside, in the closet, and in his desk. If you wanted something in particular, he would scrounge it up and grab food for his own munchies. Oh, thirsty? For something that wasn’t alcohol? He’d get a drink if you asked, or if he went off to find you food. It's easiest to keep the carafe in the room filled.

Ready to cuddle? Hell yes. Buggy is a glutton for attention, so cuddles are no problem. Honestly, he falls asleep most of the time afterwards. You learned to nudge him to clean up and use the bathroom before curling up with each other. He complained far less once you explained that he didn’t need to leave the bed entirely to take care of those things. His legs and a spare hand would get up and go to the bathroom while you snuggled his top half, pressing your chest on his bare back.

And on the flipside, sometimes Buggy would get incredibly sentimental and touchy towards you. Running his fingers through your hair, propping himself up so he could look at your face, wrapping himself around you and hiding his face in your neck. Anything to keep you close.

Talking was the hardest part of aftercare. Buggy liked to talk about what was good. What turned you on, what he enjoyed, what would be fun to try next. But talking about anything harder was…difficult. Things that wouldn’t be fun to do again, comments that hurt feelings, and the periodic uncomfortable emotions after sex - spurred on by self-doubt, body image issues, or outside stress. Buggy would clam up or leave if he thought any of those topics were coming up, which would only add to the problem until it exploded and you two were arguing into the night.

Buggy only realized how important this part was when you started pulling away. You became more closed off, not talking about yourself as much. Sure, you’d tell each other in the moment if you disliked anything, but you stopped checking in again afterwards. You still seemed bubbly and happy, but he could see shadows on your face.

You’d go through the motions after sex - nestling into him to cuddle, telling him what you enjoyed, making sure he was content, but that was it. You stopped pressing, stopped trying to build a new boundary. 

That hurt him. It ate at him every time you avoided the topics he also avoided. Eventually, the pain came out.

Your head was resting on his shoulder and your fingers stroked the cerulean hair on his chest. His hand was on your shoulder as he held you close. You both just finished talking about the session - only the positives - and the room was silent. Buggy felt the quiet suffocating him, especially because he could tell you had moved on. You weren’t waiting to talk about anything else, since you were already resigned to the premature end of the conversation. 

Pressing his lips against your forehead, Buggy blinked back tears you couldn’t see. “Was there anything you didn’t like? How do you feel?” The questions were gravelly and hesitant.

You could hear the beating in his chest get faster. You tried to push yourself up to look him in the face, to see what game he was playing, but he gripped your shoulder tighter and kissed your forehead again.

“Please tell me, I wanna know…” He spoke the words into you.

Hot tears fell on his chest, trapped between your squished cheek and his skin. You wrapped an arm around his torso and squeezed, wanting him as painfully close as possible. And then you shared. You unloaded. There was a lot you held in and once the dam broke, you couldn’t stop. And he didn’t want you to stop. 

You told him about your insecurities. About things that you already said you didn’t like, but more. Why you felt the way you did. Why sometimes it was okay and sometimes it wasn’t. On bad days, you don’t really want to be called certain names. When you don’t feel good about yourself, there are things he does that make it better and things that make it worse. 

Buggy nodded as you spoke, his face still pressed against the top of your head. His sniffles matched yours. He asked questions. He cared. And when you were done, it was his turn.

The conversation went long into the night. At the end, you were both drained. You felt a headache coming on from all the crying. Buggy’s eyes stung from the tears and remnants of face paint. You two looked awful, honestly. One look at each other and you both broke into tears that walked hand in hand with laughter. How could you let it get this bad? That was terrible! And yet, you did it. You both made it through and things were okay.

Once you both ran out of steam, it was time for food, some water, and a shower. Then sleep, full of sweet, sweet dreams.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

A/N: Wanna know what you did that Buggy didn’t like? It was when you said, “I’m going to screw you until your fucking nose rolls off.”

He was very upset about that. Very. Upset. Which is understandable, really. You’ve both moved past it now and every once in a blue moon he’ll joke about it - if you’re getting on his nerves, Buggy will tell you that you’re going to make his nose roll off.

Late night dose of existential crissis and smut

Bitches be like ‘I’m so tired and sleepy’ and then stay up doing hyperfixtation shit for the next 5 hours

I'm actually crying

Reblog if you understand and have felt the pain of your glasses never being clean no matter how many times you wipe them

Konig despises eggplant. He won't go near the stuff. No matter how you cook it, he'll shiver and grimace every time you offer him a bite.

He goes with you everywhere - and I mean everywhere. Sits at the empty table next to you while you get your nails done. Walks down the path from your front door to the mailbox at the crack of dawn, his hands shoved in his pajama pants. Clingy, though he'll never admit it.

Loves a bar of 70% cocoa as a snack. Doesn't need water or milk to wash it down, but he won't turn down a glass of cold, whole milk if it's offered to him (it never is. He grabs it himself).

He'll yell at you to turn the water temperature down when you shower together. Corners himself as far away from the stream as he can, acting like you're threatening him with a scalding fire poke.

When he comes home after missions, he doesn't always drag you to the bedroom to do the devil's tango. Sometimes, he hugs you tightly and begs you to make an actual meal, something to replenish him after weeks of boiled chicken and canned beans from wherever he was shipped off to. He wants you to sit at the table with him and just talk, please just distract him from his own thoughts.

If you hand him something, he'll hold it. He won't even pause what he's doing, whether that's talking about Spartan phalanx formations, or listening to you babble about your day. And he won't let whatever it is go until you tell him what to do with it. You'll turn around, seeing him holding the half stick of butter you handed him well over five minutes ago. "König, baby, you can put that back in the fridge."

He holds your breasts in his sleep in a non-sexual way - but damn, his grip can be fucking tight sometimes. He's got his head resting on your soft stomach, snoring against your skin as his fingers dig and squeeze at your tits. It takes a few minutes of your whining and shoving at his head before he finally relents, wrapping his arms around your waist instead.

He's happy to go to Home Goods with you and spend an hour just sniffing the different candles. He tends to lean towards the apple, cinnamon, pumpkin, or any warm, holiday scents. He can't stand the ones like "tropical waves", or "fresh linen".

He has eaten an entire wheel of brie cheese in one sitting. Multiple times. With nothing else to compliment it. And he will do it again. You can't stop him.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley who's just, so fucking happy to hear you complain.

like the tap is dripping? yes ma'am he'll fix that straight away, because a tap that drips long enough to annoy you means he's got a home.

the grocery store has changed the layout? that means you've been there long enough to notice.

there's construction for an ugly building down the street? you're clearly planning to stay.

he left the toilet seat up? he'll kiss your face all over until you giggle, promising he won't do it again, he might, just to hear you complain about it.

he's just so giddy when you complain about mundane things, he's so happy you don't have to worry about blood and war and death, you get to live in peace. even if that peace is disrupted by a stupid toilet seat.