meow

22, she/her, aries

[sexy-people-contests-2026]

I always forget there are maga people on tumblr, this doesn’t feel like a website you’d find them on, so to keep them away:

Reblog if your blog is a maga free zone because if it wasn’t clear enough fuck ice, fuck maga, fuck Trump, Fuck Rowling, and fuck all the other bigots I missed

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

!! TOBY’S SPIN TO WIN !! ^3^

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Meet The Goals To Undress The Participant <3

Please appreciate the details in the jeans they are my fav part :p

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[ripdrhomo]

oops... you shouldn't have hit him

[4theloveoflotus]

omg i’m waiting for that rock lee fic

oh nonnie, i haven't forgotten about you! i didn't know if you wanted him solo or with a reader, so have both. enjoy! ^^

❀ soft pillows and dirty showers ❀

pairing: rock lee x fem!reader

w/c: 4.5k words

content: smut, scent kink, improper use of pillow, shower setting, praise kink, oral (m receiving), reader is a freak, close friendships with blurred lines, lowkey fwb

lee's body was sprawled out across his bed, his skin covered in a thin glaze of sweat caused by his incessant tossing and turning. his blanket was an abandoned afterthought that didn't even cover him anymore. his heart was racing. to fall asleep right now would be an impossible task. it didn't matter how many sheep he counted, nor did it matter how intently he focused on his breathing, and attempting to visualise a calming scene was useless.

because you were the sole figure that fuelled his night fantasy—it was you, existing in his mind that made him a restless mess. the thought of your eyes on his, the tone of your voice, your movements and your habits—it was you who made his dick ache as it pulsed relentlessly against the fabric of his pants.

there was a recurring hope in his mind that he could simply ignore his hard-on, and wake up to the tent in his pants gone, but he knew he'd be lying to himself.

lee was frustrated, but above all, he was clueless. he didn't want to face the coldness of a shower right now, and he didn't want to feel the warmth of his palm jacking himself off either. he wanted you—needed you, but how could he satiate that craving if you were nowhere within his reach?

he sits up on his back, pushing himself up to lean against the headboard of his bed. in doing so, his palm collides into his pillow. he notices the spongy softness of it. the texture of it makes him think of you for a second. when he transfers the silk-lined pillow from behind him to his lap, there's a gentle gust of air that lands on his nostrils. the air still carries your scent from the last time you were here.

the last time, you spent the whole day training with lee until it got dark. it became a routine of yours to go home with lee and sleep over, since his place was closer to the training grounds than yours. by the time you reached his house, you were so exhausted that you could barely help yourself from falling asleep on his bed right there and then, wrapped around his pillow.

lee removed himself from that daydream of a recent memory, and found himself staring at the pillow.

he swallowed.

his desire was persuading his mind to go down a place he didn't want to go, and yet, he still was curious.

lee sighed, his thumbs tentatively slipping underneath the waistband of his boxers. he pulled them down, they pooled at his ankles, and he kicked them off.

he was curious to know what you could feel like.

his dick slapped against his abs, just beneath his bellybutton. he turned over so his stomach could remain parallel to the mattress, the pillow now beneath him, and he bit his lip as he sank his hardened length into the pillow, testing the plushness of it.

he squeezed his eyes shut at how surprisingly pleasant it felt. slowly, he chases the sensation, repeating the pistoning motions of his hips into the pillow.

"y/n..." lee's voice is a shaky whisper in the air. his eyebrows furrow together with each and every stroke he makes. he hears your sweet voice circulating around his head, and a helpless whimper escapes his lips. he wishes it was you beneath him. he could give you so much.

he rutted his hips against the pillow with more ardour. warm heat crept up his body before settling on his cheeks, leaving them pink. droplets of precum leaked from his flushed tip, and left a dark patch on the pillow.

"oh... oh my..." lee huffed, feeling his abs tense at the insurmountable pleasure. he puts a thumb over the base of his cock, applying pressure onto it as he relentlessly thrusted into the pillow. he grinded his teeth, pretending it was your pussy he was pounding into instead. "y/n, y/n, y/n... please..." he moaned out.

he was getting drunk on the feeling, and he couldn't stop his whining to save his life. if fucking his pillow felt this good, he couldn't imagine what being with you would feel like. his thrusts started to become less controlled and more erratic. beads of sweat rolled down his face, and he could sense the familiar feeling of release knocking. he was close, and desperate to let go.

"a-ahh!"

his thighs clenched, his calves locked, his balls spasmed, and his jaw grew slack. total bliss encapsulated his body as spurts of warm cum shot out of his pulsating cock, drenching the pillow.

lee stayed motionless, his head thrown back in a blissful haze, before he ran a hand through his hair and opened his eyes to look at the aftermath of his indulgence. he didn't know he was capable of producing that much cum, and it made his face go red. all because of you in his head.

"goodness..." he removed the wet lining of his pillow. "if y/n knew about this...." he thought to himself, finding a clean pillowcase. "i wouldn't hear the end of it."

the next day, lee would have to see you in the flesh, and fight. not just you during practise spars, but also, fight his emotions. fight with his composure. fight to stay sane around you. but at least he was seeing you instead of imagining you, right?

a week has passed since that night.

that torturous night where lee fucked his pillow, wanting it to be you. the days that followed were relatively ordinary, and to his surprise, he did a good job at maintaining his composure.

there were occasional moments where he was quicker to blush than usual. he'd overthink when you had to spot him during training, and place your hands on his body to correct his form. he'd also overthink whenever you'd laugh at something he said, and let your hands playfully linger over his bicep.

and he'd overthink once more when you were walking home with him again after training.

the walk to lee's place was marked by a comfortable silence and the chatter of cicadas. you were both happy with your efforts today, but the two of you were slightly too drained to communicate that to each other right now. occasionally, your knuckles would brush against his, and in your shared wordlessness, neither of you would address it. but your thumping hearts would fill the silence.

lee opened the front door to his house. you thank him briefly when he lets you in before himself, and you hear the door shut from behind him. it smells like sandalwood and faint incense inside. a sigh escapes you as you remove your sandals and feel the cold wood against your bare feet. lee does the same, turning to face you.

"y/n, i am going to shower!"

"lee, could i use your shower?"

your voices synchronise, eliciting a soft laugh from you, and a dimpled grin from lee.

"y/n, you can go before me. i do not mind at all!"

"yeah, but," your voice floats. "i take a bit longer than you, i don't wanna keep you waiting, y'know?"

"then i will wait! as long as you want me t-"

you can already sense that this back-and-forth will last indefinitely, so without thinking, you just throw whatever words come to mind to end it.

"let's just shower together."

you want to look away, but you don't. lee can feel the back of his neck and his ears getting warm. his eyes slightly widen at you.

"...if you want to?" you rubbed the back of your neck, sheepish in your attempt to put out the flames you created.

a long pause follows. you wonder if that was really the right thing to say, until...

"no, no, y/n, i want to!"

lee nods frantically, wearing a façade of confidence to disguise the trembling of his heart. his fists clench around nothing, overwhelmed by the request. "i can not back out of this. i will shower with you!"

you can't help but laugh over how enthusiastic he is about.. a shower. thankfully, your laughter makes lee's shoulders relax and his fists release.

"but..." his voice is quieter. "only if you are comfortable, y/n."

you tilt your head, lips together retaining a small grin. "well, i can't back down from this either. i'm the one who brought it up."

he walked to the bathroom and you trailed behind him. you both pause once he's at the door.

you take a small step closer to him and nudge him lightly. "you'll keep your word too, won't you?"

he feels his confidence wavering when you touch him. "definitely, y/n. i will prove myself for you."

you giggle, and the bathroom door shuts behind you.

lee's bathroom had enough space to keep all of the personal products you had stashed away at his place whenever you'd come over: your lotions, your body butters, all of your serums and oils, but yet, it still felt small. the wisps of steam obscuring your surroundings in a slight fog made the bathroom feel even smaller. the sound of running water was too loud. and you both felt too conscious.

something as simple as undressing yourself should be straightforward. showering shouldn't ever be such a big deal, but the situation you're in with lee exists in a liminal space between 'normal,' and something else you can't exactly define. he's on the opposite end of the bathroom, a distance that seems too far to just be incidental. you can feel his eyes flickering on you from time to time while he rests against the sink, slowly unravelling the bandages on his wrist.

you couldn't tell if he was buying time for the two of you, trying to gauge your reaction, or both. in response, you hesitantly reach for the hem of your shirt and lift it slowly, revealing your navel.

every motion began to feel like a silent conversation. you pause at your navel, and he pauses at his bandages. lee's round eyes find yours for a moment, and his gaze flickers to the red band on his hip before meeting your eyes again, almost as if he was seeking your permission to remove it. so you remove your headband in affirmation. and so does he.

your shirt comes off. so does the top half of his jumpsuit.

your skirt comes off. so does the remaining bottom half of his jumpsuit.

lee was grateful for the hot steam right now, because it meant he could blame the blush on his face on that, instead of the fact that you, his night fantasy, were in front of him—practically naked, save for your underwear.

"i'm going to turn around..." your voice comes out softer than you want it to.

"i understand, y/n."

when lee turns around, you do the same to unclasp your bra and slip off your panties. from lee's side of the bathroom, you can hear the sound of his boxers dropping to the floor.

"lee?"

"yes, y/n?"

your feet are facing him. you note how toned his back is, and you bite your lip quickly.

"you can turn around now."

"are you sure?"

"yeah."

lee turns in your direction. you're met with the sight of him: his muscular chest faintly shifting as he breathes in and out. your gaze lingers on his sharp collarbones, and you notice the broadness of his combat-scarred shoulders. they're tense, almost as if he doesn't know what to do with himself. your eyes dip to trace the outline of his abs, and it makes your core pulse.

when you look back up at his face, he's already watching you. you feel exposed, but there's a part of you that enjoys his lingering eyes on your body. he's watching your soft breasts and the way they slope. your tummy and the way it tightens under his watch. he's looking at the birthmarks, stretch marks, and beauty marks that decorate your skin in various places. you're better than any image he could conjure in his mind.

"lee..." you call out through the sound of running water, gesturing your head towards the shower.

his back straightens at the sound of your voice, like he remembers where he is.

"forgive me, y/n. we should not wait any longer." his heart is speeding dangerously. "after you."

warm water sends you both to a realm of relaxation, distant from earlier's harsh training, and far from the recent tension outside of the shower.

you don't feel all that nervous around him right now. the shower's soothing—so soothing, that you forget to create distance between yourself and lee, who seems too intent on giving you space. your shoulder brushes against his skin in the water, and he locks up immediately.

"lee?"

you place a hand on his shoulder, getting him to face you. in doing so, he keeps his gaze averted, treating the ordeal as if it's a training exercise where looking could mean death. it doesn't last long, though. he drops it, and looks at you.

his adam's apple bobs. "yes...?"

"i was a little nervous too."

you reach for the shower gel, making your movements deliberate and careful. the gel trickles onto the washcloth and you lather, the sweet scent of jasmine blossoming as bubbles form.

"letting someone see you completely, with nothing to hide behind..."

you take the soap-covered cloth and make slow circles on your chest in a way that's almost exhibitionistic. the way your skin glistened with each circle was hypnotic to lee. the bubbles demanded him to observe the valley of your breasts and your hardening nipples.

"...it's a lot, isn't it?" you purr.

lee clears his throat. "it can be, y/n. i agree..."

he thought this situation could be worked around—that he would be able to resist his temptation, resist you. but he couldn't help it right now. he couldn't resist the familiar warm feeling that swept across his thighs. the same feeling he felt a week ago, during that night when he thought of you. the same feeling that stirred a pulse in his dick. he could feel himself getting hard, all because of you.

"but i trust you, lee."

you trace the silhouette of your stomach, following the slight hollow of your waist, and the dips of your hips. some of the suds drip slowly onto your thighs, like treacle. your words make him even harder.

"that.. that makes me pleased, y/n." his voice is soft, like misting rain.

you step closer to him and lock eyes. his lips are slightly agape. his wet, dark locks hang over his forehead. you can feel him exhaling on your lips. you're both so close, but yet, apart.

"lee. do you trust me?"

"i do, y/n. i trust you entirely."

at this point, getting clean isn't even at the forefront of your mind, so you forget about the washcloth and drop it. you just want to feel him underneath your fingertips. you gather more gel in the palm of your hands, lather it, and start with his shoulders, tracing his scars gently as you trail down the musculature of his arms.

"you're so strong, aren't you?" you hum. "you always work so hard, lee."

"y-yes... i do..." he responds breathily, feeling flustered by your saccharine words.

your soapy hands continue their ministrations as you leave bubbles on his firm chest. your fingers brush past his nipples briefly, earning a gasp from him.

lee's resolve deteriorates even further when you sink onto your knees and follow it up with your palms going south. they chase along the taut definition of his abs, follow his v-line, and stop there abruptly. he can feel his heart pounding. maybe it's the excitement of his fantasies turning real, or maybe it's the simmering heat he feels when he notices that your hands are dangerously close to his throbbing cock. either way, it makes him call out your name in desperation.

"mmm, i know, i know..." your voice is like butter. "do you want me to touch you?" your eyes shift to his hard dick and back up to his eyes.

he swallows. "i would want nothing more right now, y/n." his breath quakes under your touch. "i do not care. just touch me to your liking. please."

both of you know you've crossed a profound boundary simply by being here. but the minute your soft lips wrap around the flushed tip of his cock, you both know you can't return. his breath hitches as he feels your warm tongue drag against the underside of his length. he can feel you mapping out his veins with your tongue. the obscene breaths he's letting out are like music to your ears

"h-hah..." he looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, and you look up at him through your eyelashes. you think he's so hot when he's helpless against you.

your less dominant hand finds purchase on lee's thigh, while your other hand firmly wraps around the shaft of his dick. your hot mouth takes him in slowly inch by torturous inch, until your nose is flush against the faint dark hairs at his base. you hold for a moment, just long enough to make him whimper, and as you retreat, a "pop!" sound arises from the suction on his tip being released.

you stroke him steadily, compensating for the warmth of your mouth. "did you like that?" your voice gently parts through the sound of running water.

"v-very much," he hisses through clenched teeth. "please... could you allow me to have more of you, y/n?"

that's all you need to hear. his desire is all you need to see. you tease briefly, swirling your tongue around his pink tip and savouring the taste of his flesh as you trail kisses along the sides. you took him back into your mouth and bobbed your head up and down his length with hollowed cheeks as your hands worked to cover what your mouth couldn't reach.

lee bit back a whine as you hummed around him, sending vibrations down his body that made him shudder. the moans started to spill endlessly from his mouth now. he couldn't restrain himself, and you loved it. you loved the power you had over him. you loved that you could make him feel this way, with nothing but your mouth, even if your jaw was beginning to ache with how big he was.

the very sight of him: his head tilted back against the tiles with water cascading down his muscles, his once orderly bowl cut—now dishevelled—his parted lips, and his heaving chest—it turned you on.

your hand replaced your mouth, stroking him faster. "i love how you feel in my mouth, lee." you breathe against his skin.

"y-you do?" he's quick to speak back, but his dick is even quicker to answer when it twitches and leaks precum at the sound of your flattery.

"yeah," you answer breathily. "you taste so good..."

he whines, and you chuckle softly when his dick throbs at your words.

you lick his sweet precum, taking him back into your mouth and repeating your movements with greater fervency. you wanted him to cum. every single moan, every call of your name, and every breath was a sweet melody that you couldn't get enough of. you felt your arousal pooling beneath you as you got lost in the act of pleasuring him.

his moaning grew louder and more frequent. his voice bounced off the bathroom walls and teased your ears. he was going to surrender soon, and you could feel it.

"y/n..." he panted breathlessly "i am- i'm going to... oh- i'm so close... i'm getting so, so close..."

lee's hands were gentle when they found the back of your head, pushing it further onto his dick. he's losing his discipline. he wants to let you do all the work, but you feel too good. you're undoubtedly better than his pillow. you're better than his wet dreams. how could you blame him for thrusting his hips into your mouth?

you suck your cheeks in harder. your tongue swirls firmer circles on his tip. and with a final twist of your hands, you can feel all the muscles in lee's body go taut with his climax. his abs tensed, his thighs trembled, and the final moan escaped him along with a tear from his eye. his dick pumped a flood of warm cum that spilled into your mouth, and you savoured every last droplet. it tasted like water. your lips are glossy when you remove his dick from them. you open your mouth to reveal to lee that you had, in fact, swallowed his essence. the act makes his dick jump, and you both laugh softly over it.

you got off your knees and stood back on your feet, making your eye contact with lee more level now. he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you closer so that your chest is pressed flush against his. your hearts beat in synchrony underneath the warm shower, and the feeling skin-to-skin brings you both back down to earth from the heights of your erotic daze. for a while, everything is still. you brush his bangs upwards to reveal his forehead, and plant a kiss on it that makes him blush faintly.

"y/n?" lee's voice is a near-whisper.

"yeah?"

he peeks at the long-forgotten, and now-remembered washcloth you dropped behind you earlier. "shall we finish our shower?"

the irony of it all makes you laugh. you showered together, and the one thing you both did was get each other dirty.

"yeah." you smile. "let's finish."

bonus:

ambient quietness filled lee's bedroom, and warm air from outside crept in. the lamp on his bedside counter chased the night shadows and cast everything in a soft, orange glow.

he's shirtless and on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling with arms tucked behind his head. the smell of your cocoa butter lingers on his skin, and it makes him feel warm while he stares at the incense smoke making shapes above him.

meanwhile, you're down on the floor, laid on your side with a hand propping your head up. there's a book beneath you that you're not necessarily reading, but the delicate sounds of pages flicking floats in the room regardless, and you feel peace.

"you know..." lee's voice carefully cuts through the comfortable silence.

you pause in the middle of flicking a page and turn your head towards his voice.

"i thought of you being here, y/n... quite recently."

you raise an eyebrow, a light smirk gracing your lips.

"like, me, here in your room?" you placed the book down to cast your full attention on him. "where are you taking this?" you tease.

"nowhere!" he says that a little too quickly, and a little bit too loud for his own good.

"well, i must be honest... i think about you often, y/n. but this time, it was different."

"how so?" you play with the hem of your shorts, with eyes that blink slowly at him.

he swallows, and he's staring holes into the ceiling, like he wants it to give him answers.

"come onnnn, lee," your voice playfully drags, "you literally came in my mouth," you sit up. he shuts his eyes. "we showered together," you crawl towards his bed. "lee, i rubbed my lotion all over your sk-"

"-and i touched myself thinking about you." he muttered.

"what?"

silence applied pressure on both of you for a few seconds.

his voice is louder than before, but it's still tinged with a hushed hesitancy. "the pillow smelled like you, and... it.. it just happened..."

a quiet laugh falls out of your lips. it makes his face simmer with bashful heat, and his eyes shut even tighter. you crawled to the edge of his bed to rest your arms on the mattress, leaving your face a few inches away from his.

"for real?" your genuine curiosity somehow makes this worse than you mocking him.

"extremely, y/n."

you got up and settled your knees on the mattress, placing your thighs on either side of lee's hips before lowering your backside down onto his lap.

"so, what exactly made you cum? was it my face?my voice? my a-"

"y/n!" his voice bursts out of embarrassment, triggering a fit of laughter from you.

"sorry, sorry!" you raise your hands.

"those questions are beyond reason right now..."

he opens his eyes to look at you through those thick, dark eyelashes before averting his gaze.

"...it was your voice. and your smell... and everything. it was everything... please forgive me, y/n." he admits quietly.

"aw, there's nothing to forgive, lee." you frown sympathetically and give his cheek a light pinch. "just don't fuck your pillow..." the sound of your chuckling rings in his ear. it's tender and free from any mockery.

it makes him relax a little. his eyes meet yours again, and his large hands settle on your hips.

"lee, if there's something you want, you can tell me. i think about you too sometimes... we can help each other..." your thumbs stroke against the back of his hands.

"you would do that?"

"yeah, of course i would."

"you do not have to." he says, slightly more firm in tone. i did not confess to acts with my pillow so i could earn your body, y/n..."

"lee, i know," you groan. "you're not the kind of person who would do something like that. you told me because you felt comfortable enough to. i feel comfortable too, so i want to keep doing this with you."

he can feel his face getting warm.

"it's the same way we were both comfortable enough to shower together, the same way you were comfortable enough to let me suck your d-"

"y/n!!!" he interrupts your profanity.

"fine, fine." you tease, ruffling his bowl cut.

it comforted lee to know that you trusted him so much, that you would offer your body to him. it was also a relief for him to find that you didn't meet his confession with disgust or harsh judgment either. instead, you'd allow him to show you the most intimate and vulnerable parts of himself. you wanted to continue being around him. it made him smile.

"alright, let's go to sleep now, 'kay? it's a long day tomorrow."

"certainly."

you lean forwards, now laid on top of lee with your head resting on his chest. his arm reaches for the lamp on the bedside counter to turn it off, before it finds your waist and cradles it. he could stay like this forever with your full weight on him.

"sleep well, y/n." he kisses the top of your head.

you hum. "good night, lee."

a/n: currently balancing fanfic with finals but this is rlly fun for me! please keep giving me requests guys, and If you have, i haven't forgotten! if you want to be tagged when i drop, lmk

tl: @starzzzloversjournal @thvie-e @sophieswish

[philcollinsenjoyer]

about 90% of fanfiction takes place in a utopia where men are thoughtful and unsure of their place in the world

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

Computer airstrike Klay Thompsons house.

Im irritated as FUCKKKKKKKK.

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

!! MORE LIGHTING PRACTICE !!

I realized I’ve never rendered Brian’s full face so I wanted to scribble him! This is what his scar looks like when I describe it :pp

I tried giving him a grown out buzz cut so I hope it’s noticeable T3T

[dollyb3an]

Want to go to the river and I’ll find you pretty rocks? (Flirting)

[unseaworthy]

Extremely self-indulgent ugly!f!Reader x König Medieval AU. Rated E for one saucy bit. Part 1 of 2.

Big thank you to @konigswaifu for inspiring me to post. Please check out her amazing Knight König series!!

Through merit and noble birth, you rose through the ranks to become an indispensable member of the monarchy’s inner circle. Your sharp mind helped secure your kingdom’s borders and ensure prosperity for those who live within them. Life in the castle was never dull, even when you weren’t working - entertaining foreign diplomats, attending events like jousts and feasts, or listening in on lectures in the conservatory made for a full schedule.

You also occasionally took part in the more salacious activities that keep the royals from getting bored. The Queen held decadent private parties where the most attractive commoners offered themselves up in hopes of stealing the heart of someone high-born. It was quite common for nobles to have human pets that tagged along for their activities throughout the castle: a pretty lady to sit on their laps during meetings, or a handsome man to rub their shoulders while they ate dinner. The public would likely make more of a fuss about the practice if the kingdom was not currently enjoying a golden age.

You’d never had a pet. Not because you couldn’t get one, but because you thought it would be cruel to force someone to dote on you. Plenty of people in the castle deserved that level of devotion for their beauty, and it was even clear that many of the pets enjoyed their positions. They lived in luxury alongside their masters and mistresses, even if they were occasionally traded like commodities. It was better than toiling in the fields all day or selling goods for pittance in the market. Besides, who wouldn’t wish to bring pleasure to someone as gorgeous as the princess, or as strapping as the knight-commander? 

You simply… weren’t those things. Gorgeous, strapping. The kindest word that could be said about your face was “plain,” and the proportions of your body were undesirable by any standard you could imagine. People were kind to you, but no one had ever expressed interest. The few trysts you’d had were clearly attempts by social-climbers to ingratiate themselves with the inner circle.

Then one day, at the close of a grueling but ultimately successful trade negotiation with a neighboring kingdom, one of the diplomats approached you. A provision you fought for in the agreement greatly benefited his family, he explained, and he wanted to show his gratitude in the form of a gift. You had only advocated for what you thought was the best outcome, but you were flattered nonetheless. He assured you that the gift would arrive at the castle in a few days.

You did not think much of it until you were summoned from your chambers to the portion of the stables where deliveries were usually received. Two knights stood on either side of a towering man, his hooded head bowed in submission and his hands tied before him. He wore simple, black garments that did little to hide his muscular build. 

It did not occur to you that the man might be your ‘gift’ until one of the knights introduced himself as an emissary from the kingdom you’d negotiated with. He explained that this man was a foreign warrior captured during a recent conflict who was spared due to his exceptional martial prowess. He had evidently spent several weeks in a cell as they tried to figure out if he could be trusted to fight alongside the very knights that had captured him. It was decided that gifting him to an ally was the safest option, especially when the grateful diplomat from the negotiations noticed that you didn’t have a pet of your own.

At first you were so shocked you didn’t know what to think. Never, not in a million years, would a man with such a formidable appearance look twice at someone as homely as you. The most you’d ever received from men this attractive was a polite nod in the corridor. Your old conviction that taking a pet would be cruel crept into your mind.

But looking at the most perfect human being you’d ever seen, even with a mask obscuring his face, desire overcame you. You accepted the gift and were handed the ropes attached to his wrists.

In your chambers, you undid his bindings and went to remove his facial covering. He tugged it back down and shook his head in a panicked no. “Don’t worry,” you told him gently, holding up your hands and backing away. “You can keep it. I just want you to be comfortable, here.”

You learned a lot about your new pet over the next few days. The first was that he did not speak your language, though you suspected that even if he did, he wouldn’t be the talkative type. He seemed to understand you well enough when you showed him around the castle and gave simple instructions, but offered little in the way of reactions. Still, his soulful blue eyes spoke volumes to you. You could tell he was intelligent, observing and absorbing everything around him, even if he declined your many invitations to share his thoughts. It took less than 24 hours for you to become completely besotted with him.

On the second day, he asked you brokenly if you were the Queen. You laughed, finding his ignorance of the hierarchy adorable, and explained that you were only a noble. “But if I were the queen,” you told him sweetly, taking his hand in yours, “I would make you my king.” You weren’t sure if he understood you, but the pink blush that swept beneath his blue eyes made your heart swell.

You were desperate to learn more about your darling pet. He wouldn’t tell you his name, but you did succeed in figuring out that the language he spoke was German. With a little help from the court interpreters, you learned a few phrases so you could communicate with him and resolved to continue your study of the language. He was shocked when you casually tossed him a “Guten Tag,” and then nearly fainted when you began referring to him as “mein König.” Eventually, you dropped the article and he simply became König.

Your favorite pastime quickly became pampering and doting on your precious pet. Everything about his shy demeanor delighted you. He did not seem to mind that you babbled at him incessantly, explaining different aspects of your job as you went about the day. He let you hold his hand when you walked him from place to place, and though you desperately wanted to perch yourself in his lap, you only allowed yourself to sit thigh-to-thigh with one arm curled around his bicep.

The inner circle got used to seeing König with you everywhere - at meetings, during each meal, and accompanying you on your evening promenades in the garden. Most were happy that you’d finally found a pet for yourself; a few balked at the absurdity of you allowing the man to continue to wear his mask, or that you were the one feeding him grapes rather than the other way around. Their opinions did not concern you. In a matter of weeks, König had become your entire world. Every day you grew more and more devoted to him.

For his part, König remained largely a mystery, as your efforts to chip away at his shell were slow to bear fruit. You were so pleased the first time you heard him chuckle at one of your wry comments, and occasionally he would oblige your requests to teach you words in his language. Your original assumption that he was the quiet sort proved valid, but you were learning that he didn’t always need words to communicate.

The relationship between nobles and their pets tended to have a sexual component, although not always. Some were very blatant about it, bringing pets on leashes to the Queen’s parties or fondling each other in the courtyard. Although you felt supremely comfortable with König in all other regards, this was the one aspect that gave you pause. 

You desired him immensely. It was well within your rights as his mistress to demand favors of him, but it was impossible for you to discard from your mind the chasm of difference between your appearances. He was a mighty warrior with striking blue eyes and a body that was aesthetic as it was adept. Back in his kingdom - Osterreich, he’d told you - before his capture, surely he bedded many beautiful women, or perhaps even had his own pets. And who greeted you each morning in your looking glass? A munter with an unprepossessing face, blotchy complexion, and pudginess under her chin and arms rather than hips and breasts. Any sexual encounter between the two of you would deeply disappoint and perhaps even disgust him.

Yet as the days wore on, your resolve began to crumble. König slept in a pile of furs in front of your fireplace, which he insisted was all he wanted, and you weren’t sure if that was because he was repulsed by the idea of sleeping beside you or because his large frame would not fit comfortably on the mattress. You began to invite him to your bed each night, only to have him politely decline. It became a ritual as you continued to ask, even knowing what his answer would be. He did start sleeping without his mask, though, which you took as a sign of trust. You were unsurprised to find he had a rugged appeal, with thick brows and defined cheekbones.

One night, when it was dreadfully cold outside, you convinced him that you needed his body heat. It was under this pretense that he finally joined you in bed, his enormous body crammed as far away from you as possible at the edge of the mattress. You boldly slung an arm over his side and rested your hand on his stomach, assuming the position of the littlest big-spoon in the castle. König stiffened, but did not push you away.

By degrees, you moved your hand down his body and began to plant little kisses on the back of his neck. He did not react at all, which you considered much better than outright rejection. When your fingers finally brushed his cock, you released a sigh you had been holding practically since you met and told him how beautiful he was. You stroked him over his trousers and eventually reached beneath them to pump him properly. All the while you whispered sweet things in his ear. “You are like a rare gem,” you said as you pressed your chest against his back. “Since I met you, I’m happier than I’ve ever been,” you confessed as you sucked on the freckled skin between his neck and his shoulder. “Hung like a king, too, huh?” you teased as you swiped your thumb over his cockhead.

He came with a whimper that wedged itself firmly between your legs.

“Stay here,” you commanded, retrieving a cloth from your washbasin. He had not moved an inch when you returned, his eyes squeezed shut, taking in shuddering breaths. You gingerly cleaned him off and discarded the rag, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Sleep for me, now, alright?” You settled back to your side of the bed and, though you were pulsing with lust, managed to calm yourself enough to drift off.

Things were normal between you the next day, to your immense relief. Thrilled at the progress you’d made, you decided not to push your luck until another cold front swept through and provided you with an excuse. But that night, you noticed König lingering by his furs as you brushed your hair. On a whim, you asked if he wanted to join you in bed and he nodded with no complaint. You repeated an exact performance of last night, relishing the feel of his warm, heavy member in your hand, and cleaned him up just as before. Night after night this continued, until you were brave enough to grind yourself against his body to achieve orgasm yourself. Neither of you ever spoke openly about the arrangement, or made any effort to move these encounters into daylight hours.

But as the winter finally melted into spring, something began to change. König, of course, remained loyal and steadfast, following you everywhere and acquiescing to any request or suggestion you put forth. No, it was you who changed. As your obsession with him grew into something you might call love, you could no longer ignore the guilt weighing down your heart. König was too magnificent to be forced to spend his days with someone so ugly that you could not even face him as you came together. Melancholy began to overtake you as you gradually distanced yourself from your pet. König seemed to notice, but never asked you about it directly.

As flowers began to bloom on the trees in the courtyard, you contrived a plan that would put the power in König’s hands for the first time since he arrived half a year ago.

When your pet returned from his trip to the baths that evening, he found you sitting in your chamber with one of the court interpreters at your side and a mahogany box in your lap. You gestured for him to sit on the bed, which he did cautiously. You had not wished to invite a third party, but it was necessary to prevent miscommunication.

“König. You have truly become the sun around which my world revolves,” you told him, the interpreter translating your words quietly. “I have grown to love you so much that it pains me to keep you bound here as a pet, when you deserve to be treated as a king. I want to give you a choice about your future.”

You handed over the box and gestured that he should open it. Inside were three silk cloths: one red, one white, and one golden.

“I can offer you three paths. The first is a complete separation from my life and this castle. I will renounce my ownership of you, give you as much coin as possible without alerting our chamberlain, and secure a horse. You can start a new life for yourself, in Osterreich or elsewhere, without fear that I will pursue you.

“The second path is to remain as we are, mistress and pet, living here in the castle.

“The third path is an offer of marriage. I cannot make you a king, but I can elevate your status to that of a noble and provide a good life for you here in the castle. We will live as equals in luxury for the rest of our days. All I would ask in return is fidelity.”

König remained stoic throughout your speech, his eyes trained intently on you as the interpreter shared your words. His mask, as usual, hid any indication of what he was thinking.

“Tonight, I have made alternative sleeping arrangements for myself so you may have these chambers. When I return in the morning, I will look on my pillow to see which cloth you have left to signal your choice. The red cloth means you want to sever ties with me. White means you wish to remain as we are. With the golden cloth, you accept my marriage proposal.”

He furrowed his brow, beginning to speak to the interpreter, but you held up a hand. “Please take the night to consider,” you insisted. “I will honor whatever you choose. Do you understand?”

König looked at you for a long time, glancing just once down to the box in his hands. Finally, he nodded his head.

“Good.” You got to your feet as did the interpreter. You’d paid him handsomely for his silence on this very personal matter. “I wish you a peaceful night, König. I look forward to your answer tomorrow.”

Sleep evaded you as you agonized over what the sunrise would bring. On the balcony in one of the guest wings, you stared at the starry sky until your eyes blurred with tears.

When the church bells finally signaled morning’s arrival, you walked down the corridor to your room and opened the door.

There on your pillow lay a red, silk cloth.

===

Click here for Part 2.

Thank you for reading! You can read my other much longer Konig x Reader fic here. 💘

[clarekitty]

this was beautiful!!

[unseaworthy]

Ugly!f!Reader x König, Medieval AU. Part 2.

Catch up with Part 1 here. Inspired by @konigswaifu and her Knight König series.

Two years had passed since you’d facilitated König’s departure.

Although he was but a distant memory to the rest of the inner circle, not a day went by that you didn’t think of him. In the weeks after he left, you were terribly distraught. The others encouraged you to get another pet, even offering to hold a party where you could choose whomever you liked. The thought was repulsive to you. No one could ever fill that role but him.

The drudgery of court life dragged you through the days. You continued working on behalf of the royal family's interests, eventually finding joy in the job once again, but you no longer looked forward to free time. Most of it was spent sleeping, reading, or weaving at the loom. Any solitary activity would do. After the first year, you started attending the Queen’s parties to distract yourself with sex, even though you knew your partners were interested in nothing more than currying favor with royalty. Those few encounters only served to make you feel emptier.

You had no idea what became of König, and tracking him down was impossible because you’d never learned his real name. No one reported seeing him within the Kingdom. You assumed he rode the horse you gave him as far as possible and started a new life.

Streaks of gray appeared in your hair and the bags beneath your eyes grew a bit more prominent: just a few more features to add to the long list of those that made you undesirable. Still, they say that time heals all wounds, and a part of you did indeed begin to settle into the life you knew before König. Though your mind still dwelled on him each day, your smiles began to feel less forced.

You were working with a scribe on a report one afternoon when a breathless page burst into your office. He informed you that the King and Queen had requested your audience in the throne room. Wondering what could be so urgent, you hurried down the spiral staircase and entered the grandest room in the castle.

The King and Queen each sat on the dais, wearing crowns and robes that indicated they would be receiving someone on official business. The Queen called you up to the dais and had you stand beside her throne.

“Why have I been summoned?” you asked.

The Queen frowned. “We are about to find out.” She signaled to the guards stationed at the far end of the hall. “Please bring forth our guest.”

You waited nervously as they opened the doors. Flanked by two guards on each side was the largest knight you’d ever seen. His silver armor was resplendent and oddly bore no insignia indicating which kingdom he represented. They must have stripped him of his weapons, as no sword hung at his side, though that did little to diminish his titanic presence.

His size instantly reminded you of König. Your heart leapt in your chest as you watched the man’s approach.

He took a knee at the foot of the dais, head bowed reverently. You wondered if he planned to lift his visor or keep the helmet in place.

“You graced us with a handsome sum to secure this audience today,” the King announced. “We would have been suspicious had you not agreed to come alone and unarmed. As such, we’ve honored your request and brought the one you seek.” He gestured towards you. “Now, rise and speak.”

The knight got to his feet and clasped his hands together in front of him. The metal of his gloves clinked together as you realized that he was trembling.

“Your Royal Majesties, I thank you for receiving me. I arrive here at the end of a long journey.”

It was him. Tears filled your eyes as you stared at the knight you now knew to be your former pet. Although you had never heard him speak a full sentence in your language, his voice was unmistakable. 

“Some years ago, I belonged to the woman who now stands before me,” he explained. “I was gifted to her after having been captured by enemy soldiers, when I believed that my future only held execution or forced labor. I did not speak your language and knew very little of your customs when I was brought here. I was confused and overwhelmed.”

Tears spilled freely down your cheeks as you listened to the music of his voice once more. 

“In the weeks that followed, my mistress introduced me to this unfamiliar world with patience, compassion, and joy. I was greeted with nothing but smiles and tender touches. She spoke with me as though I were an old friend, and plied me with luxuries that I had never beheld in my life. I kept thinking that I must be missing something, because how could this be the life afforded to a prisoner of war? To spend each day as the object of a caring woman’s affection? I do not trust easily, but she utterly disarmed me with her unwavering kindness.”

The King listened intently, while the Queen hid a little grin behind her hand.

“In the months that I was under her care, my mistress ensured I wanted for nothing. She provided me with every conceivable pleasure–” he paused meaningfully before saying in a low voice, “-even ones I had never thought to experience again.” Your face grew heated as you looked away. “I never quite knew how to respond, as it all felt so strange to me, thus I kept to myself and enjoyed my good fortune while it lasted. And then one day, my mistress offered me a choice. I could leave, I could stay, or I could marry her.”

Finally, König turned away from the monarchs to face you directly. You could just barely see the sky blue of his eyes through his visor.

“I longed to marry you.” You tensed at the words, bringing a hand to your heart in shock. “However, as I considered the paths you put before me that night, I realized how deeply unworthy I was. What husband would I make when I had nothing to my name but the clothes on my back? I could not even communicate with you properly, to tell you how I felt. I was deeply ashamed of what I was.”

Before you could protest, he went on, “But, I knew I could earn the right to be by your side. Back in Osterreich, I was a respected warrior who fought my way to notoriety. So, I started from scratch and did it again. I used the money you gave me to buy armor and weapons, and joined up with a mercenary company. I took every job they offered me. Once I had enough coin, I hired a tutor to teach me your language, so that I could do this.” He gestured in front of him to indicate his speech. “It took me longer than I would have liked, but I finally have a life to offer you if we marry.”

König took a step forward and held out a hand to you. Carefully, your vision blurry from crying, you descended the steps and put your hand in his. His giant frame dwarfed yours. He was all shining metal and smooth plains, while you were nothing but lumpy flesh and a face not worth looking twice at.

“I know that I have been gone for a long time,” he said, lowering his voice so that he was now speaking only to you. “I do not expect that your affections have remained with me all this while. So now, I offer you three paths.”

He paused to take a breath. “I can leave this place and never darken your door again. I can pledge myself as a knight to this kingdom, and remain devoted to you without expecting anything in return. Or, I can–”

“Marry me,” you finished, cutting him off. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, please König - do not make me wait a moment longer.”

In response he reached beneath his pauldron and withdrew a piece of fabric. It took you a moment to recognize it for what it was: the golden silk you’d presented to him on that fateful night.

Placing it in your hand, he said warmly, “You are, and always have been, the path I choose.”

====

Just a cute little something I had in my drafts. Thank you for reading! My masterlist is here. :)

@bingbongsupremacy @shroompette @pickles-the-jackalope @molds-page @nino-98 @baskingsharkz @wholelottanope503 @joufrance @moonystiramisu @joufrance @tessakate @mafeincel @shmeepshmorpspants

[cryingintheclubdhmu]

!! HABIT DOODLES !! Ი𐑼

Maneki Neko’s design on tt was so yummy I wanted to do him in my style :pp

Separates + alts below the cut <3 ^3^

[starkourtmall]

Hide and... sike?

navigation ☆★

pairing: Sanji x reader

summary: You picked the wrong hiding spot and he followed you. Now the game is over — but neither of you wants to leave.

WARNINGS: a liiiitle bit of smut

Luffy is standing on the figurehead, arms wide, screaming into the wind like a man who has never had a single anxious thought in his entire life.

"WE'RE PLAYING HIDE AND SIKE!"

Nami, curled up with a book, doesn't look up. "That's not a real thing, Luffy."

"It is now." Luffy jumps down, landing in a crouch. His grin is too big for his face. "I close my eyes. I count to a hundred and you hide. When I find you, I sike you out. If you flinch or scream, you lose."

"And if we don't?" Usopp asks from the rigging. He's trying to look brave, but looks like he's about to cry.

"You get double dinner today."

A beat. Then Zoro, who was sharpening his sword in the corner, stands up. "I'm not playing."

"No one asked you, mosshead." Sanji flicks ash off his cigarette. He's leaning against the mast, arms crossed, one ankle hooked over the other. The white button-up, the black slacks, the hair falling over his right eye; all that combine makes him looks like he walked out of a noir film.

Luffy claps his hands. "EVERYONE PLAYING. READY. SET."

He slams his hands over his eyes.

"ONE… TWO… THREE…"

The crew scatters.

You run.

"Where do I go," You ask yourself "My room? No, that's too obvious. The hold, maybe?" You sigh "Come on, ____, think" Then an idea crosses your mind. "The galley!"

You slip through the door, pull it shut behind you, and freeze.

Sanji is already there.

He's standing at the counter, calmly chopping carrots. The knife moves in a steady, rhythmic thunk thunk thunk. He doesn't look up.

"Wrong hiding spot, love," he says. "Luffy checks here first. Every time."

"I panicked," you whisper.

"Clearly."

You hear Luffy's voice from the deck: "…TWENTY-FIVE… TWENTY-SIX…"

Sanji sighs. Sets down the knife. Wipes his hands on a towel. Then he looks at you.

"Pantry," he says. "Now."

He grabs your wrist—firm, warm, purposeful—and pulls you toward the narrow door at the back of the galley. It's not a walk-in. It's a closet. Shelves of spices, sacks of flour, jars of pickled vegetables.

"In there?" you hiss.

"Unless you'd rather lose."

He opens the door, nudges you inside, and follows you in.

Darkness. Tight. Hot. Your back hits a shelf and a bag of rice digs into your spine. Sanji is in front of you—too close, his chest an inch from yours, his shoulder brushing the doorframe.

He pulls the door shut.

The latch clicks.

And then—nothing.

Total darkness. You can't see your own hand. You can't see anything except the tiny glow of light coming from under the door.

He's standing sideways now, trying to give you space. But there is no space. His hip presses against your thigh. His breath is warm on your forehead.

"Breathe," he says quietly.

"I am breathing."

"Breathe slower. You're going to hyperventilate."

You try. You really try. But his cologne is everywhere—smoke and sandalwood and something clean like soap—and his hand is still on your wrist, and you can feel his pulse under his thumb.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Steady. Calm. Like he does this every day.

"…FIFTY… FIFTY-ONE…" Luffy's voice, muffled through the hull.

"How are you so calm?" you whisper.

Sanji doesn't answer. You can barely see the corner of his lips lifting into a side smile.

Outside, Luffy hits one hundred.

Silence.

Then—a scream. Usopp. High and terrified and absolutely pathetic.

"SIKE!" Luffy's laugh echoes across the deck. "GOT YOU, USOPP!"

"I WASN'T EVEN—" A pause. "Okay, I was hiding. But that was mean."

You almost laugh. Sanji's thumb presses into your wrist. A warning: quiet.

Footsteps on the deck, then the galley door creaks open and you stop breathing.

Luffy's voice, sing-song: "Sanjiiii… I know you're in here. I can smell the carrots."

He doesn't answer. His hand tightens around yours and his body shifts to angle himself between you and the door. His shoulder presses into your collarbone, his hip digs into your thigh, his face is inches from yours.

Sanji doesn't move. Doesn't flinch. He just looks at you. Even in the dark, you can feel his gaze. Heavy. Focused.

He presses his palm flat against the shelf next to your head. Caging you in. His forehead drops to yours.

He smiles. Just a little. Just enough for you to see it in the dark.

Don't. Move.

Luffy's footsteps get closer. The pantry door is right there. A thin piece of wood between you and being found.

The handle jiggles and then stops.

Luffy sniffs loudly. "Hmm. Not in here."

His footsteps retreat. The galley door creaks shut.

Silence.

Neither of you breathes.

Sanji doesn't pull back. His forehead is still pressed to yours. His breath is hot and shaky. His chest rises and falls against yours — fast, despite how calm he looked outside.

"He didn't open it," you whisper.

"No," he agrees. His voice is lower than you've ever heard it. "He didn't."

A beat.

"You're shaking," you say.

"I know."

He still doesn't move. His body is a wall of heat pinning you to the shelves, not leaving you other thing in sight but him.

"We should probably go out there," you say.

"We should."

Neither of you moves.

His nose brushes yours. Once. Twice. Testing.

"Sanji."

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs.

You don't.

His thumb starts tracing a slow circle on your hip — bare skin, just under the hem of your shirt.

"Sanji," you whisper.

His name sounds different in the dark. Thicker. He notices. His breath catches.

"Say that again," he murmurs.

"Sanji."

He kisses you.

Full and firm and deliberate. His lips slant over yours like he's been waiting for permission his whole life, his hand leaves your hip and cups your face — thumb on your cheek, fingers buried in your hair — tilting your head exactly where he wants you.

You make a sound. Small. Embarrassing. He swallows it.

When he pulls back, you're both breathing too fast.

"Oh, cherié."

He kisses you again. Slower this time. His tongue traces your lower lip. Asks. You open for him and he makes a quiet noise — almost a groan — and his hips press into yours involuntarily. The shelf creaks behind you.

He pulls back again. His forehead drops to your shoulder.

"Sorry," he breathes. "Sorry. I shouldn't— we're in a pantry. Anyone could—"

"No one's coming."

"You don't know that."

"You're the one who hasn't moved."

He laughs. Quiet. Broken. His lips press against the collar of your shirt.

"I know," he says. "I know."

His hands are shaking now. You feel it — his fingers trembling against your face, your hip, wherever they're touching.

"Look at me," you say.

He does. Even in the dark, you can see the conflict in his eyes. Want and restraint fighting in real time.

"I'm not telling you to stop," you say.

His jaw tightens.

"You should."

"But I'm not."

He stares at you for a long, agonizing second. Then something in him breaks — or maybe snaps into place.

His mouth crashes into yours again. Hungrier. Less careful. His hand slides from your face down your side, over your ribs, your waist, gripping your thigh and hooking it around his hip. The new angle pulls you flush against him — every inch of him pressed into every inch of you.

You gasp into his mouth. He swallows that too.

His hips roll into yours once — slow, deliberate, questioning. You answer by pulling him closer. His groan vibrates against your lips.

"Tell me," he pants, pulling back just enough to speak. "Tell me you want this."

"I want this."

"Tell me it's not just the dark. Not just the game. Not just—"

You kiss him quiet.

"It's not," you say against his lips. "It's you."

His breath shudders out of him. His whole body relaxes — just for a second — before he kisses you again. Harder this time.

His hand slides from your thigh down to the back of your knee, hiking your leg higher. Your skirt rides up. His bare fingers press into the back of your thigh.

"Fuck," he whispers — and you've never heard him swear like that. Breathless. Desperate.

His mouth finds your neck. Not gentle this time. He sucks hard just below your jaw — enough to leave a mark. His tongue soothes it immediately after.

"Sanji — someone's going to see—"

"Good," he says against your skin.

His teeth graze your collarbone. His hand slides higher — from your thigh to your waist to the curve of your ribs. His thumb brushes the underside of your breast. He pauses.

Looks up at you.

"Okay?" he asks.

You nod. Barely.

His thumb brushes again — higher this time. Your back arches off the shelf. His hand covers you fully, palm warm and rough through the thin fabric of your shirt.

He makes a sound. Low. Hungry.

"You have no idea," he murmurs, "how long I've wanted—"

The ship creaks. Footsteps above.

Both of you freeze.

Luffy's voice, distant: "WHERE IS EVERYONE? THIS GAME IS BORING NOW."

Sanji's forehead drops to yours. His chest is heaving. His hand is still on you. He doesn't move it.

"We should stop," he whispers.

"We should."

But neither of you moves.

His thumb flicks over you once — slow, deliberate — through your shirt. Your breath hitches.

"We're going to get caught," he says.

"Probably."

His mouth finds yours again. Softer this time. Almost sweet.

"One more minute," he breathes.

You pull him closer.

"Make it ten."

He laughs quietly against your mouth — a broken, desperate sound — and then his lips are on yours again. His hand slides back up to your face, cradling your jaw like you're something precious. But his hips don't stop moving. Slow. Rolling into yours in the dark. The shelf creaks with every shift of his weight.

Your fingers find the collar of his shirt. The white button-up. You fist the fabric and pull him closer — impossibly closer.

His hand leaves your face. Slides down your stomach. His fingers hook under the waistband of your pants — just a finger's width. Testing. Asking.

"Sanji—"

"I know," he whispers. "I know."

He doesn't go further, but he doesn't pull away either. His thumb presses into the soft skin just above your hip bone. His forehead stays pressed to yours.

"After this," he says, voice raw, "when we're not hiding in a closet like idiots — I'm going to take my time with you."

Your breath catches.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He kisses the corner of your mouth. "Properly. Somewhere with a bed. And a lock. And no rubber pirates trying to scare us."

You laugh. Quiet. He smiles against your cheek.

His hand slides out of your waistband. His thigh pulls back from between your legs. He doesn't go far, just enough to let you both breathe.

"We should actually go now," he says.

"I know."

"Luffy's going to come looking again."

"I know."

Sanji doesn't move. His hands are on your waist now. Thumbs tracing slow circles. His eyes are still dark, still hungry, but there's something softer underneath.

"You first," he says.

"Together."

He hesitates. Then nods.

He reaches behind him — careful, not letting go of you — and finds the door latch. His fingers curl around it.

"Ready?" he whispers.

"No."

He smiles. Real. Warm. Even in the dark.

"Me neither."

He opens the door.

Light floods in. You both squint. The galley is empty. The carrots are still on the cutting board. The knife is still there. Everything looks exactly the same.

Nothing has changed. Except everything has.

Sanji steps out first. Offers you his hand. You take it.

He doesn't let go when you're both standing in the galley. He doesn't let go when you hear Luffy scream "THERE YOU ARE" from the deck.

He just looks at you — flushed, lips swollen, hair a mess — and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You look like you've been hiding in a pantry," he says.

"So do you."

He grins. Lifts your hand to his mouth. Presses a kiss to your knuckles.

"Worth it."

You walk out to the deck.

Sanji follows a few seconds later, lighting a fresh cigarette. His hair is still slightly disheveled — one strand falling over his eye that he doesn't bother fixing, his shirt has wrinkles across the chest from where you grabbed him. He doesn't seem to care.

Luffy is sitting on the mast, pouting. "You guys are no fun, I couldn't find you."

Zoro is back to sharpening his sword. He glances up, looks at you, looks at Sanji and rolls his eyes so hard it's almost theatrical.

"Took you long enough."

Sanji doesn't rise to it the way he usually does. No immediate kick. No shouting match. He just flicks ash in Zoro's general direction.

"Shut up, mosshead."

But his voice is lighter. Distracted. His eyes keep drifting back to you.

You sit down on the deck, legs crossed, trying to act normal. Trying to ignore the phantom feeling of his hands on your waist, his mouth on your neck.

Sanji sits next to you. Closer than he needs to. His shoulder presses against yours his thigh lines up with yours. Anyone paying attention would notice. He doesn't seem to care about that either.

Nami catches your eye from across the deck. She raises one eyebrow. Smirks.

You look away, face hot.

"You have something," Nami says sweetly, tapping her own jaw, "right about here."

Your hand flies to your neck. You feel it — the spot Sanji marked. Still slightly tender.

Your face goes nuclear.

Sanji, without missing a beat, takes a slow drag of his cigarette and exhales toward the sky. "Bug," he says flatly. "Big one. Had to get it off her neck."

Nami's smirk deepens. "Must have been a very aggressive bug."

"Very," Sanji agrees. His knee bumps yours. Deliberate.

Zoro snorts but doesn't look up.

You want to die. You also want to kiss Sanji again. It's a confusing feeling.

He offers you his cigarette. "Want a drag?"

"I don't smoke."

"You could start."

You take the cigarette. Your fingers brush. You bring it to your lips, inhale, and immediately cough.

Sanji grins.

"Atta girl," he says.

And when he takes the cigarette back, his fingers linger on yours. Not accidentally. Not briefly. He holds on for a full second longer than necessary.

Nami pretends to be very interested in her book.

Luffy, oblivious, swings down from the mast. "I'm hungry. Sanji, make meat."

Sanji doesn't move. His shoulder is still pressed against yours. His pinky hooks around yours on the deck between you — hidden from everyone except the two of you.

"Yeah," he says, not looking away from your face. "In a minute."

[rae-writes]

sharing is. . .

nsfw; fem!reader, cuckholding || 1.k || what gets your bf to share you with his friends??

Bf!Sanji + Zoro — sharing is not caring: it’s pure spite on your boyfriend's part, honestly. He takes a lot of pride in having you as his and he is completely shameless when it comes to how you make him feel, in and out of the bedroom. So when the swordsman makes a snide remark about overhearing Sanji’s not-so-subtle whining/begging, well…he just challenges him to ‘fuck around and find out’.

“H-hah…fuuuuck.” Zoro’s head was thrown back onto the pillow, fists tight around the sheets since Sanji forbade him from actually touching you. 

Sanji himself was seated across the room, lounged back with an infuriatingly (to Zoro) smug smirk on his face. “Lean back a little, baby, tilt those hips up…yeahh, like that.” 

Eagerly following your boyfriend’s orders, the position made Zoro’s cock slide even deeper, causing the green-haired male to gasp. 

“Just like that, c’mon, faster—“ he grunted, bucking his hips up. From his seat, Sanji scoffed, almost genuinely offended. 

“Women shouldn’t be ordered around, especially not ma cherie. Beg her, stupid mosshead.”

Zoro would’ve refused. He did not beg— but you felt like fucking heaven and his orgasm was building in a way like nothing he’d ever felt before. 

So you had Roronoa Zoro begging you to keep fucking him.

“Fuck, y/n, don’t stop— please, keep ridin’ me just like that, a little faster, please, please!” He was grunting, moaning, whimpering, and whining. He understood how you had Sanji acting like a depraved mess for you: you were a goddamn Angel or something. 

“Lemme touch, ff—god, fuck, please let me touch, s’fucking close, g’na cum.” He didn’t exactly wait for permission, especially not Sanji’s; he couldn’t help it, he was still Zoro after all. His hands gripped your hips tightly and pulled you flush against him, raising you off the bed slightly as he came inside.

Sanji wasn’t thrilled at that, but he decided to overlook it. He’d just have Zoro clean it all up with his tongue…after begging for it, of course. 

Bf!Luffy + Law — sharing is caring and Luffy cares a whole bunch! Your cheery boyfriend is laid back and rather emotionally perceptive. It doesn’t take a genius to realize Trafalgar Law’s habit of not taking care of himself when he allies with the crew. And Luffy thinks that’s no good! He knows you always make him feel good, so he’s presenting you to his friend with a wide smile.

“I-I’m still not really sure about-“ Law’s attempt at keeping composure breaks with a little groan, body tensing then melting within seconds. 

He’d never been intimate with anyone, but even if he had, he’s sure no other person would be as attentive and caring as you. 

You were bobbing your head along his cock at a steady pace, mouth gentle and not overwhelming, eager eyes locked on his every facial change. 

“Y’really pretty.” You mumbled when you came up to tease the tip, much to the horror of his now flamingly-flustered self. 

Luffy laughed and kicked his feet joyfully, watching with focused eyes. “Traffy’s still a little tense…make him cum, already!” 

Law wasn’t ready for you to swallow him all down so suddenly, making a choked shout leave him as his hips bucked uncontrollably. He felt so dizzy with pleasure, fucking your mouth shallowly as Luffy himself guided your head. 

“Feeling relaxed? Mouth’s s’warm and good, knew she’d make you feel like that. Y’look like you're close..can see you trembling, Traffy. Do that thing with y’r tongue, baby, make him finish.”

Your mouth paired with Luffy’s casual commentary made Law’s core tighten and burn— and before he could even choke out a warning, he was cumming harder than he ever had with his hand. 

You swallowed it all down, sticking your tongue out to show him (to which he gave a strangled, cute, noise). Both of you let your chests heave for air until your breathing steadied, but by then, Luffy had another idea. 

“Her cunt is pretty great, too. Let’s do that next.”

Bf!Shanks + Buggy — sharing is caring but only with certain people, you know? When Shanks ran into the clown, he was thrilled, much to Buggy’s dismay (and secret enjoyment). And what better way to tell your old best friend ‘it’s really good to see you’ than letting your girlfriend take his virginity?? Flashily. 

Spread out on your boyfriend’s lap, back flush to his chest, was a position you were very familiar with. But this time, Buggy— who you’d just met a few hours ago— was directly in front of you, squirming- red faced- and panting. 

And his disembodied cock was inside of you. 

Buggy had been flabbergasted when Shanks casually suggested it, I mean, who thinks to use their powers that way?! That red haired pervert! But it was oddly appealing and Buggy was hot and bothered at the idea, so…here he is. 

He couldn’t hide how good it felt. Buggy had always been a loud mouthed man and god was he loud. “Uhnnghh, fuck, s’tight ‘n warm, feels good, n-need t’go faster, harder—“ 

You thought Buggy was adorable. Encouraged by the low chuckles Shanks was breathing against your ear, you reached down and gripped the base of Buggy's lone cock, using it much like a dildo. Faster. Harder. Just like he’d wanted. 

Shanks barked out a hearty laugh when Buggy cried out and bucked his hips against nothing at the sensation, lazily playing with your tits. “Amazing, innit she? My girl.” 

“Ffu-uck you-“ Buggy gritted before whimpering, hands detaching and flying over to replace yours, fucking you himself again. “O-oh..she’s perfect..hnnng..”

With his body left just lying there thanks to his limbs doing their own thing, you leaned forward out of Shanks’ lap and pressed your mouth to Buggy’s sloppily, stroking his blue hair that had been broken free of its ponytail. 

“Y’feel s’good, Buggy.” your whisper was a little whiny to match his own voice, free hand cupping his jaw. “‘N y’r s’pretty, too..sound so cute..” 

He was on cloud fucking nine and absolutely ruined. 

“Lemme cum inside, please, ‘m s’close, need it inside, don’t make me stop!” He gasped, eyes rolling back when you clenched around him tighter than before. He shifted his cock to keep pounding at that one spot inside of you. 

Both of you were moaning and whimpering messes by then, your frame slumped over Buggy’s with only your hips raised, thanks to your boyfriend’s grip, to leave Buggy room to fuck into you at the frantic pace he was using. 

“Don’t gotta ask for permission! Can’t you see how much she wants it?” Shanks laughed again, smacking your ass. He watched with a sly grin as you both hit your highs, latched onto each other like glue. 

When Buggy came down, feeling his cum dripping out of your cunt and splattering his abdomen, he practically had stars for eyes. 

You grinned. “Shanks, can we keep him?” 

[hey-august]

Word count: Just under 1k Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, no use of Y/N, mentions of masturbation, sex, and oral.

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

Buggy who is surprisingly good at drawing.

Buggy who doodles all the time. Ugly little caricatures of people who piss him off. Goofy scribbles of bits that make him laugh. Potential skits. 

Buggy who scrawls on the margins of paper, the corner of napkins, anywhere he can relieve the itch in his hands.

Buggy who designs costumes for his crew. Colored pencils and oil pastels bring the flashy couture to life.

Buggy who carries a small sketchbook in his coat. Deckle edged paper wrapped in leather, perfect for practicing pencil sketches and graphite drawings as he observes the crew.

Buggy who doesn’t share the drawings in his sketchbook, though. Some had to learn the hard way not to look over his shoulder.

Buggy who realizes too late that you are overtaking his personal pages. What started as small forms to study pose and movement grew larger, capturing more of your essence.

Buggy who becomes obsessed with capturing the small details. How your nose crinkles when you laugh. The sneer in your lips when you’re pissed. The way you rake your fingers through your hair when you try to calm yourself.

Buggy who gets curious late one night. Curious and desperate.

Buggy who draws you from memory and fueled by his filthy imagination. The soft sound of pencil scraping along the paper is comforting.

Buggy who fills a page with you in compromising positions. The lewd expressions you might wear. What he thinks you’d look like split on his cock. Or mouth open, begging to have your face fucked. His hands gripping your plush thighs.

Buggy who fucks himself to the hand-drawn porn and cums all over the page.

Buggy who feels guilty and burns the soggy drawings, as best he can. It takes a few frustrating tries and he panics, even though no one is around.

Buggy who tries to ignore those feelings. Trying to draw anything except you. But everything looks like shit now. Proportions are off. He presses too hard when sketching, unable to erase the stark lines. Even his doodles lack life.

Buggy who gives in and scribbles you in the corner of his sketchbook before moving on to something else. And it works. His movements flow better. A weight is lifted off his chest.

Buggy who eventually caves to the nighttime muse once more. Filling another perverted page with the obscene images flooding his mind. This time, he doesn’t ruin the drawings with jizz or fire.

Buggy who revisits that page frequently. Adds to that page. Convinces himself that it’s okay, it’s not hurting anyone. In fact, it helps him by taking away other urges.

Buggy who eventually manages to misplace his sketchbook. He fucking lost it.

Buggy who doesn’t want to bring attention to his lost treasure. If he says it’s missing, some freaks might find it and look through the pages. They’ll realize what a pathetic loser he is.

Buggy who frantically retraces his footsteps, barking orders to keep everyone away from him. 

Buggy who finally finds it in the hallway just outside his room. The book must have fallen out of his pocket and laid mostly out of sight with the brown leather blending into the wooden floor.

Buggy who is relieved. It doesn’t look like the book had been touched or moved. Even the leather string is still wound around the sketchbook tightly.

Buggy who needs to get back to other duties after sloughing them off most of the day. He’s still on edge, reading into everyone’s interactions. No one acts differently, adding to the relief that no one knows about his perversions.

Buggy who doesn’t open the sketchbook until the end of a very long day. Who waits until he’s alone and in his room.

Buggy whose stomach lurches at the note peeking out of one of the pages. A page devoted to your smile. A note with your handwriting. “This is so impressive! I look so happy”

Buggy who slams the sketchbook shut and starts to pace around the room. Fuck. Did you find it first? Did you look through it? Why? What else did you see? What else did you see?

Buggy who freezes at the thought. Who stares at the awful book, as if it would pipe up and tell him in a fluttery voice.

Buggy who grabs the book and roughly throws it into a drawer, ready to lock up his feelings. Ready to deal with his unhealthy actions with more unhealthy actions.

Buggy who tries to go to bed but can’t sleep. He lays in bed surrounded by a carousel of thoughts. Of fear. And anxiety.

Buggy who sends over a hand to retrieve the damn book. He has to know. He’ll die if he doesn’t find out.

Buggy who can feel his hands shake with each heartbeat as he thumbs through the book, looking for more notes.

Buggy who feels both calmed and excited as he finds your commentary on a few more innocuous pages. Praises for his skill and appreciation for scenes he captured.

Buggy who finally flips to the page. That one.

Buggy who’s afraid to read the note you left there. But he does. “Want to collaborate one day?”

Buggy whose stomach and heart are in knots. 

Buggy who keeps reading. “I’d like to see what you look like too.”

Buggy who shows up at your door, panting and red faced. Sketchbook in hand.

Buggy who trails his fingers along your face as he fucks into you, commiting each detail to memory. The shape of your mouth with each moan. Your lust-filled eyes. The little teeth marks left after you bite your lips.

Buggy who can’t help but stare at your sex-tired body. Chest heaving. Glistening.

Buggy who still wants to taste you. To taste himself on you. Who uses his mouth and tongue to memorize more of your body.

Buggy who is surprisingly good at drawing and collaborating.

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

A/N: Just want to highlight this line bc I love it "This time, he doesn’t ruin the drawings with jizz or fire."

[stvrlighttgabss]

tutoring luffy.

— pairings: luffy x fem!reader (modern, college au)

— art by @hunnismokah

It’s been about two months since you started tutoring Luffy.

And in that time, you’ve learned a couple of things.

A: He can’t focus properly unless he’s eaten at least three plates of food (first, during, and after).

And B: He has absolutely no sense of personal space.

This whole thing had started when your Calculus 1 professor approached you at the end of class, visibly concerned about one of his students’ grades. Offering extra credit, he’d asked you to tutor him—though the way he sighed beforehand probably should’ve been a warning.

In all honesty, you’d expected someone quiet. Maybe a little embarrassed about needing help.

Instead, you got Luffy.

The boy is easily distracted, often asking random questions and switching topics mid-sentence. He can be loud, but not in a way that’s annoying. Just constant.

He’s not very academically focused, but he’s not dumb. Luffy is very present with people he likes—you’ve learned that much.

But he always listens to you.

Unsurprisingly, he always brings some type of snack to one of your sessions. Sometimes, he offers you some while you’re explaining.

It’s something you’ve been thinking about more and more lately. More than you’d like to admit, you’ve grown comfortable with him. 

The smile on his face when he correctly solves a problem somehow always makes its way onto yours, and you can’t quite figure out why.

The campus is oddly quiet at this hour, most students in their dorms or off doing something else. You’re currently in Luffy’s dorm, writing down another formula on one of the many sheets of notebook paper you’ve gone through since you got here.

Both his and your textbooks are open in front of you, crumpled papers scattered across the desk.

He drums his fingers against the desk, eyes flicking between the paper and you.

You point at the new sheet with your pencil, glancing over at Luffy. “You’re just finding how fast it’s changing. That’s all a derivative is.”

There’s a shift beside you—and then he’s leaning over your shoulder, his chin just barely brushing against the fabric of your shirt.

The warmth of his cheek almost meets yours, and for a moment, you can’t tell if it’s the heat that rises to your face—or just him.

“So…”

He adjusts slightly, not moving away—just settling closer, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He frowns slightly, eyes still on the page. “You bring the exponent down… then subtract one, right?”

You swallow quietly, sliding the notebook a bit closer to him. “…Yeah.”

A beat passes.

“Why do you subtract one?” Luffy tilts his head, eyes moving back to you. The edges of his inky hair graze yours a bit.

“Um,” You blink down at the paper slowly, and then back at him. Something in you wants to answer him honestly. “I think it’s just what the formula says.”

His expression shifts—just slightly. “Oh.”

You watch as he continues studying the formula, eyes moving back and forth over your tired handwriting. “Ohhh.” A grin spreads across his face like he’s just figured out a difficult puzzle.

The scar under his eye stretches slightly as the smile widens, highlighted by the soft glow of the desk lamp on the table. Luffy looks over at you, his eyes bright as they take you in—like he’s seeing something new. Only, it doesn’t have to do with math.

“This is more fun with you.” He says after a few seconds, voice relatively quiet but sure. The boy’s face is inches from yours, and you nearly have to lean back to avoid bumping noses. 

But would you?

His comment sits deep for a moment, settling into the quiet space between you. Just as you’d said, your lips are twitching into a smile, one you always seem to get around him. 

Just as you’re about to attempt to respond, Luffy glances over at the clock. “Wait.”

He suddenly straightens, like he’s remembered something important. Reaching for his phone a few inches away, you notice him turn off 'do not disturb'.

Huh.

“There’s a place near here—if we leave now, we can still make it.”

You blink, confused. “Make what?”

“Food,” he says simply, already standing. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Before you can fully process it, he’s reaching for your wrist—light, but insistent.

“C'mon.”

And for some reason, as he pulls you forward, towards the door, you don’t resist.

You don’t want to.

a/n: this idea was actually given to me by @luffystoefungus, so thanks to her for the inspo !! i'm not really sure how i feel about this one, like i wish the characterization was better 😭😭. but anyways, thank you so much for reading !!

[hey-august]

WC: ~270 Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, sub!buggy, teasing, begging

featherlight kisses on his pelvis were the start of his downfall. not kisses with a promise at the end, but to tease. 

buggy's cock twitches, pressing up against your tongue before falling back with a wet slap. you start over, dragging your tongue along the underside of his aching need. every twitch, every throb, every jerk, you start over. 

fat tears gather in the corner of buggy’s eyes, as fat drops of precum leak from his slit and gather on his stomach. he paws at the bedsheets, fingers stretching and bending without thought. just want.

“please…need you,” he whimpers in a voice that shakes like his hands. “i’ll be good, i p-promise”

you look up. strands of hair stick to his forehead. his face is as red as his nose. his bottom lip is swollen from being pinched between his teeth for too long. his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and tries again.

“please” a few tears fall. “s’too much, w-want more, please” another sticky slap from his bobbing cock. you’re not even touching him. “please, i can be good”

“do you deserve more?” the question squeezes buggy. squeezes the words in his throat. the air from his chest. and more precum from his leaky dick.

his eyebrows furrow. he shakes his head back and forth. he licks his lips. 

“please,” he repeats, spraying spit as he begs. 

you sigh and lean up to kiss his flushed cheek. chaste affection that has him groaning so sinfully.

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” he murmurs. 

hands now grab at you, instead of the bedsheets, desperately seeking the pleasure you’ll spoil him with.

[hey-august]

Word count: ~430 Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x afab!reader, no use of Y/N, vaginal masturbation, little bit of mutual masturbation. All parties are consenting adults.

your back is pressed against his chest. it’s warm. his voice is in your ear, telling you what to do. what to touch. looking ahead in the mirror, his eyes are transfixed on the hand between your legs. you spread wider, giving buggy a better view.

“see how you’re so fucking wet already? you’re practically dripping all over the floor”

you nod. it’s embarrassing to hear but you like it.

“start with just one finger” his voice is breathy. “get it wet before putting it in, ‘kay?”

your finger slides down slowly before slipping inside. you let out a cross between a whimper and a moan at the sensation, pulling an intoxicated huff from buggy.

“tell me how it feels” he begs.

“s’warm…hot. and tight. s-soft, really soft”

buggy presses his face against your neck. your words are too much for him. he feels your shoulders rise and fall with quick breaths.

“mmhmm, see why i like fucking you? you feel so good.”

you tilt your head against his and nod. digging your finger deeper, you look for that spot that buggy knows so well. he watches you move in and out of your wet pussy, searching for a feeling.

“c-curl your finger and press a little harder”

when your body tenses for a brief second, he knows you found it. and when you slip in a second finger, he knows you like it.

you rub your fingertips against the ridged spot, feeling the pleasure radiate through your body. you fight against your wet heat as it tightens around your fingers. buggy feels the little tremors in your body as you chase the high.

“you close? want help?” he watches your face. flushed and focused. and there’s the smallest of nods.

buggy slips his hand down to your clit and massages the slick nub. he keeps a steady pace and follows your cues. 

you’re almost there. you’re so close. you’re hardly breathing. and then it hits - the wall breaks and everything comes crashing down. your pussy clenches so tight you can hardly keep moving your fingers. as much as you try to keep your legs spread, you squeeze them shut, adding to the pressure exploding inside.

buggy pulls his arm away, leaving his hand stuck between your legs, and wraps your trembling body in a tight embrace. he mutters praise and sweet nothings that you can hardly hear.

a deep breath later and you’re able to relax. you release both hands from their moist prisons and lean back against buggy. glancing in the mirror, you can see the smitten expression on his face as he looks down at you.