#wonder woman cook book

[stars-and-branches]

Im going to be trying to make the Artemis Ginger Cake from then Wonder Woman cookbook wish me luck guys

[rafey-baby]

trinket

prince!rafe thinks his maid is just the sweetest little thing...  

prince!rafe x maid!reader 

18+ mdni!

c/w: rafe being a menace, him flirting (?) w her, some royal cameron family angst?, brief descriptions of him having sex w another woman

wc: 2.3k

also this is by no means historically accurate which is why i’m not gonna name any specific era for this xx

moodboard & introduction

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Every mid-December, the palace comes alive in an entirely novel way with the bustling preparations for the annual winter ball that the king and queen host to celebrate ‘another wonderful year’.

The once quiet and calm castle transforms into something colorful and vivid with the mouthwatering smell of cakes and pastries cooking in the ovens of the royal kitchen, along with maids and other servants whirling around the long hallways as they place intricate decorations and shiny ribbons all over the broad staircases and windows. 

She’s grateful she doesn’t have to partake in the hustle and bustle all that much since her primary duties include taking care of the prince and ensuring he has everything and anything he could possibly need.  

Although right now, she sort of wishes she could be stringing up polished ornaments or garnishing elegant baked goods because apparently, being the prince’s personal maid sometimes means sitting quietly in his bedchambers (as per his request to keep him company while he’s reading) with her own thoughts and the sounds outside the door her only source of entertainment.  

Therefore, she’s elated when he suddenly turns to face her in his armchair— flitting his eyes over to her from the hefty book that seems to have made him exasperated rather than enthralled.  

“Will you join me for a walk? All this noise is makin’ m’head hurt.”

There’s enthusiasm in the nod of her head; a yearning to see the fresh layer of snow covering the trees and painting the entire kingdom with its powdery whiteness— the aftermath of last night’s blizzard. She doesn’t think there’s anything more beautiful than the crystalline snowfall glittering under the touch of the afternoon sun— or maybe a certain pair of aquamarine eyes, but that’s beside the point.  

“That would be my pleasure, Your Highness,” she easily agrees. 

“How many times do I have to tell you how much I despise that name? There’s no need to use it when s’just me,” he scolds her before he’s straightening up and stretching out his arms over his head. 

“My apologies, it’s a habit,” she rises to her feet as well; trying her hardest not to let her eyes linger on the sliver of his stomach peeking out from underneath the silky fabric of his shirt. 

“I don’t want your apologies, want you to use my name,” he says before stepping closer— standing tall before her and forcing her to blink up at him in order to meet his eyes. “Go on, sweetheart, say it,” he practically orders; eager eyes fixed on her face.  

She hesitates under the sudden attention. He’s always seemed so fascinated by her and she doesn’t know why.  

“Um…Rafe.”  

He lets out a hum of approval. “That’s good. You ready to leave?” 

“Y— yes, uh, Rafe.”  

“Good job. Not so difficult, is it?” he coos at her almost mockingly— fingertips grazing the skin of her cheek when he tucks a loose tendril of hair back behind her ear. 

She merely shakes her head— a warmth dusting over the apples of her cheeks when his touch lingers on the side of her face afterwards. And for a moment, she thinks she’s going to drown in the lagoons of his eyes, but then he clears his throat and offers the palm of his hand for her to take.  

And it’s rather unusual for someone of his status to do; a prince who’s bound to wear the crown one day holding his maid’s hand isn’t exactly something that’s written in any book regarding the royal etiquette. However, he’s never been one to allow for dreadful rules and traditions to dictate his behavior, especially not towards her.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -  

“Are you looking forward to the winter ball?” she asks when they stop by the stables to check up on his horse, Jupiter.  

“You know I hate dancin’,” he mutters out as he watches its teeth grind on the carrot he brought with him.  

She smiles because she does know, before letting out a wistful sigh. “I wish I could attend.”

“You do? Why?” he’s perplexed by her enthusiasm towards something he considers as more tedious than anything— having to plaster on a smile for an entire night and socialize with people he doesn’t necessarily care for in order to humor his father never being something he’s particularly taken delight in.  

Especially when Sarah is going to be the one receiving all of their father’s attention anyway. Not that he cares (he does) but he would appreciate it, if for once in his life, his old man would show him even an ounce of the care he seems to so easily shower his sisters in.  

“Well, I’d love to wear a ball gown, but mostly for the food,” her feather-light voice brings him back to the moment.  

“I’ll make sure to bring you a plate ‘n you can eat it in my room then, yeah?” he promises as he runs his fingers through Jupiter’s black main.  

“You would do that?”  

“If you promise not to tell the other maids or they’re gonna accuse you of gettin’ special treatment,” his tone is playful. 

“They already do that,” she points out. “They think we spend too much time together.” 

“And what do you think?” he asks, genuinely curious. 

“I don’t mind. I quite enjoy your company,” she answers truthfully. After all, she has grown quite fond of Rafe throughout the years. Sometimes she just wishes he wasn’t so overwhelming, in every sense of the word. 

“Yeah?” a smirk pulls at the side of his mouth, seemingly pleased with her answer. 

She’s certain he’s well aware of the effect he has on her— the effect he has on everyone. And she thinks that he enjoys it; relishes in toying with her for his own amusement simply because he can. He can practically do anything he wants since his father is oftentimes gone for long periods of time; fulfilling his duties for the kingdom and whatnot.  

And she knows Rafe doesn’t particularly mind the fact that his father is rarely home because he’s always been hard on him, much harder than on his sisters because whether he likes it or not, he’s set off to be the new king one day. And his reputation of having female guests over more often than not whenever his father is away doesn’t necessarily help with gaining his approval.

After all, rumor travels fast around the palace.  

Rafe once admitted to her that he often felt like a disappointment, and that the pressure of everyone’s expectations sometimes made him wish he was nothing more than a stableman. After all, he does get along with horses better than he ever has with his family— it’s not exactly a secret amongst the royal court.  

“Would you wanna go for a ride with me? Think Jupiter’s gettin’ bored,” he suddenly asks.  

“Oh, I would love to but I’ve never, um, ridden a horse before,” she timidly admits. 

“No? You wanna know how it feels? You could jus’ sit behind me, don’t need to do anythin’, yeah?” he coaxes her to say yes with a seemingly sincere smile; already walking Jupiter out of its stable and leaving her no choice but to follow them outside.   

“Really?” the frosty air causes a shiver to crawl up her spine when she eyes him, hesitant.  

“Mhm. Promise nothing’s gonna happen, I’ll take care of you. ‘N I know you’ll like it, s’very freeing,” he assures her as he’s already saddling up the horse, seemingly aware that she could never refuse him of anything.  

“Okay...if you insist,” she tentatively agrees with a nod that he rewards with a beaming grin; the icy snowflakes sticking to his hair making him look like something straight out of a fairy tale.  

Then, he’s lifting her up to straddle the entirely too big of an animal that sort of still scares her— strong hands gripping onto her hips and leaving her momentarily starstruck at how effortlessly he does it; as if she weighs nothing more than the carrot Jupiter was just chewing on.  

He follows soon after, settling down in front of her with ease before looking at her over his shoulder. “Need you to hold onto me unless you wanna fall,” he instructs, seemingly reveling in the fact that he gets to be the one teaching her something new.  

“Oh, yeah, of course,” she says, gingerly setting her hands on his waist, movements uncertain.  

“Gonna need you to hold on tighter, promise I won’t bite,” he huffs out a laugh before he’s grabbing her arms and wrapping them around his middle more firmly— forcing her to fully lean against his back when the sudden clip-clopping of Jupiter’s hooves against the snow-covered cobblestone causes her to let out a surprised shriek.   

“Good?” he asks, seemingly amused at the way she’s practically clutching onto him as the cottony snow prances around them. 

She manages out a hum, wondering if he can hear her poor heart loudly thumping in her ribcage when he decides to pick up the speed some more, as if she wasn’t already terrified.  

“Rafe! Can you slow down?” she squeaks out when Jupiter seems to only accelerate further underneath them.  

“Where’s the fun in that?” he lets out a hearty chuckle in response, apparently finding amusement in her utterly frightened state while she wonders why she let herself think for even one second that he had pure intentions.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“Y/N? Will you go look for my son? I fear he’s once again escaped his responsibilities to God knows where,” the king requests with an exasperated sigh while she’s crouching down and helping a servant clean up the sharp pieces of a shattered wine glass— the sound of laughter and dancing flourishing around them. 

And she could swear she saw Rafe conversing with a guest only a few short moments ago. However, as she looks around in an attempt to locate the missing prince, he’s nowhere to be found.  

“Right away, Your Majesty,” she’s quick to answer with a polite smile.  

“Thank you,” he nods gratefully, seemingly fed up with his son already.  

She ensures that the poor girl who accidentally cut her finger on the broken shards is not going to faint before tiptoeing up the broad flight of stairs in order to reach the higher levels of the palace— the loud music and blooming celebrations echoing around the halls. 

“Your Highness? Are you in there?” she knocks softly on the mahogany door leading to his bedroom.  

However, she isn’t granted a response. 

“Rafe?” she tries once more before pressing her ear against the wood separating her from the muffled sounds she can now hear from the other side— brows furrowing when something akin to a whimper reaches her ears.

It sounds nothing like Rafe; it has a higher pitch, something more feminine than his usual drawl. And as she stands there, contemplating whether something is wrong or if she should just leave, the volume only amplifies.

And in a moment of cloudy judgement, she finds herself pushing down on the handle.

However, she curses her curiosity the moment the door cracks open and she’s faced with the view of some woman’s naked back. Her long, beautiful hair reminds her of lady Lydia (a daughter of one of the dukes invited to the ball) with none other than the prince himself underneath her sweaty form.  

The sheets that she changed this morning are crumpled and creased around them and without the barrier of the door, she can now hear Rafe’s low grunts as well— can see how his big hands guide her movements. And they’re both panting heavily, seemingly lost in some haze— maybe the same one that forces her to stay rooted to her spot in the doorway.  

With her eyes as wide as saucers and mouth parted, she’s not entirely sure how long she stands there for. Until out of the blue, she notices Rafe’s eyes flickering over to her— a smirk tugging at his mouth when he catches her staring. 

She tries to move her legs but they won’t listen; making his lazy grin only grow in tandem with his strained groans that seem to only increase in volume as he locks his eyes with her.  

And she can’t breathe; the air clogging her lungs instead of flowing through as her dazed mind tries to get her to do something, anything to get her to leave the room but his heady gaze seems to have hypnotized her— compelled her to stay right where she is.  

All at once, a gravelly noise rumbles from his chest— his head dropping against the cushion of his fluffy pillows, seemingly reaching some sort of a peak in his search for pleasure as the woman above him begins to slow down her movements. And that’s when she’s finally able to step away; shutting the door behind her before scurrying down the stairs with bated breaths and heart pounding in her ears.

When she reaches the bottom, she accidentally stumbles into someone holding a golden serving tray— causing it to topple over to the floor with a loud clatter. 

“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes before her wobbly legs are scrambling off in an attempt to locate the nearest escape route to the garden.  

And once she’s managed to make it outdoors, she feels like she can finally breathe— the crisp December wind granting her heated skin an opportunity to cool down as she sits down on one of the wooden benches with a sigh.

[garpen]

Pt. 32 Gotham Twitter AU

<<Part 31<< Master List >>Part 33>>

Thank you @yashthebest and @kitteningotham for the asks! (Q&A still open for those who want to trya nd get their questions in)

Recently got reminded of the time when I was 14 for my 10th grade English creative writing assignment I wrote about two women who were happily married to each other, cooking dinner, having a coversation, etc. and the twist near the end was that the meal they were cooking was the decapitated head of one of the woman's ex-husbands. And that SURPRISE they were serial killers.

I really wish I still had that story but unfortunately this was back when essays were still written by hand. So I turned it in and never got it back ❤️ We also later were assigned to pick a book to do a book report on and I picked a book about a serial killer. No wonder my English teacher always looked at me funny....

[yaymiyas]

THE HUSBAND

warning: female reader, saer being….saer, yan!isekai!crown prince

a/n: i was so burnt out so lets see what i come up with ….its short ik and yes im cooking up something w cynthia LET ME COOK 🫡🙄🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯💯

the idea of divorce was swimming in the mist of your mind hours before you regained most of the movement in your body. you knew you had to get out of this situation in a peaceful but quick manner. in your mind, leaving saer should have been easy since he hated edina more than the devil himself. he saw her as a shit stain satan left on earth to torture him for all of his days. so why are tears running down his face…thats odd? from all of the tweets, forums, and blogs saer had close to no emotions for edina. he hated her through and through. in the original story, he would’ve cheered of joy if she simply asked to part ways. so why was he sitting in front of you crying? was the bacon too salty? was he remembering the good ol’ times with his late father? ever since you’ve transmigrated into this story, everything has been so weird. aside from you being close to perfectly fine after being fed poison, saer has became more careful.

in the book, saer was close to a bubbling idiot. every single assassination attempt was stopped by a maid because he was stupid. he always played it as cynthia and amanda favoring edina but that wasnt the full truth. he was just too obvious with everything he was doing. you actually kind of felt back for the dummy, no wonder gracie wants nothing to do with him. regardless of any of that, you actually started to feel a bit bad for him. it was obvious saer didnt know why he was crying or how to stop it by the way his face was balled up in red confusion. maybe it was out of guilt or for the plot, either way you wanted to help him. maybe he wanted to kill you but seeing a grown man cry really did break your heart.

“now, saer..”

gently pushing your hand out to cover his larger ones, you put on a voice of concern. you want to help the poor idiot but you also want to get out of this house alive. maybe playing the sweet docile wife could do you some good, maybe—

“ugh, stupid bitch get off of me.”

slapping your hand off of his, saer attempted to keep a face of pure disgust plastered for you to see. why on earth was he crying, and why on earth are you being so off-putting? at first, your new actions didnt really bother him. were they different? yes, but they weren’t unpleasant. but now...it was as if the poison made you utterly indifferent to his presence, which he told himself he loved, but the lord knows thats a lie. you quietly sitting there, dry-face, with a slight frown and uninterested body language, angered him. saer was crying purely for reactions. he thought that crying would help him close this conversation and make you jump up and beg for his forgiveness, but no. all you did was lift your grimly, beastly fingers to ‘comfort’ him. what a joke of a woman.

“im finished with my breakfast”

the scream of the chair was louder than your own thoughts, kicking you out of your own subconscious. what even was that about? you were TRYING to be the version of edina you thought he would like, second from you killing yourself right there and then. so why was he acting like you were trying to jump his bones? he is such a wicked man….such a sad excuse of a person. its such a shame his attitude is so sour, you were going to try to soften his walls to see if he would lighten up on the poisoning situation. how did he get it? who did he get it from?

“madam,”

lightly placing her hand on your shoulder, cynthia appeared. scaring you out of your thoughts, you straightened your back and put on the best fake smile you could. you knew cynthia didnt really care for you, as demonstrated by the bath she gave you earlier, but you thought that maybe you could melt this ice queen. her soft ginger coils shaped her face in all the right places, giving her olive skin the type of glow women in the real world would kill for. she had green eyes to match alone with it, making it easy to find yourself lost in them. cynthia was a beautiful woman; just how did she become a maid for this jackass?

“his royal highness has ordered for you to be sent to your room.”

[sevsdollette]

thinking about ellie when she’s angry. i think I cooked on this one.

contains: mentions of injuries. a little bit of arguing. smut (giving ellie head, fingering (r-recieving), heavy making out, choking, tribbing)

MDNI and men get away!!

it’s been a rough day around jackson. there was a swarm of infected running around in the woods—attacked some people you and ellie knew. they all came back okay, but situations were high-strung. you and ellie had been out the whole day searching, killing, and surviving.

your scout groups were separated. you spent the whole day wondering where your girlfriend was and what was going on with this strange zombie hoard. but, still, you had to stay focused on your own tasks. 

at the end of the day, when the sun was setting over the thick forest, you came back to jackson with your mind set on finding ellie.

her group had returned an hour before and all of them looked a little beat up. 

you walked through the stables, seeing them by the aid station. one of them had a large bandage casted around his leg and was walking on crutches. another was holding a bloody tissue to his face. a couple more had stray bandages wrapped around their limbs. 

you didn’t see ellie at first and your blood froze. your mind told you the worst. ellie was always one to act like a hero. you hated it, but it was who she was.

then she came out from around the corner. from the looks of it, she was fine. but you could tell there was peril behind her eyes. she had this wild, panicked look of a woman still high on adrenaline.

her hair was pulled back and off her neck. her flannel was stained and the sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. one of her leather boots was caked in mud and the other had a tear in the toe, revealing its steel. she had a hard grimmace, eyes scanning over every person from her squad that was sat against the wall.

you rushed over, dropping your pack and wrapping your arms around her neck. 

she stumbled back before embracing you quickly. “hey, babe, you alright?” she asked

“yeah, are you?” you let go and stood back. maybe you had missed where the injury was.

she purses her loops, looking down the hall of the stable in thought. maybe she hadn’t heard you. her brow was furrowed and her jaw clenched tight.

“ellie?”

she blinked rapidly and shook her head. “what, baby?”

your face tensed. “are you okay,” you repeated.

“yeah, yeah.” she brushed you off, stepping back. “i didn’t get hurt. i’m fine.”

“ellie—“

“why don’t you,” she began, taking your wrist as you tried to touch her face. “go home. i’ll see you there in a little bit. i just have to handle taking care of my crew.”

“well, i could help you—“

“go home,” she pleaded. “just go home.”

you shifted back, biting the inside of your cheek. she hadn’t even been looking at you. her ever frantic mind was too occupied to give you the time.

fine, you thought, picking your pack back up and walking out of the stables. 

you went home. where else was these to go? you slammed through the door, tossing your pack wherever it wanted to land, and stormed upstairs.

part of you wanted your anger to be directed at ellie, but really you were just frustrated. you were mad at the situation. why did today have to be so shitty? your scout mission hadn’t even been too stressful. you shot down one stalker and everything was quiet. 

but ellie must’ve been through the ringer. she hadn’t even told you what happened but you could assume bad enough. it wasn’t normal for her to treat you like that.

you took a deep breath as you undressed and got into some clean clothes. the house was too quiet when she wasn’t home. such a secluded town made an eerily silent world when one was alone. it almost made you feel like you were back out in those woods

you went back downstairs and sat in the living room. you wanted something to occupy yourself. maybe read a book or listen to a record, but you couldn’t get your feet to work to bring you to the bookshelf or record player.

just as you were about to retreat to bed, ellie came clamoring through the door. 

her pack was slung over her shoulder, she had her rifle tucked in the crook of her elbow, and her shoe was untied. her eyes stuck to the floor as she tried to walk without tripping.

“hey,” you hurried, walking over to take the pack off her back. she muttered a thank you and went to the counter to put her gun down. you stood in silence as she kicked off her boots and ran a hand through her messy hair.

she bit her lip, peeling away the dry skin. her hands were perched on her hips and she stared at the floor. it took you a second to see that her bottom lip was quivering and her eyes were glassed over.

you pulled her into an embrace and this time she returned it. she took a large breath, hiding her face into your shoulder as her hands on your back pressed you close. a moment later, you could feel her tears staining your skin. she was silent but shaking.

you smoothed your fingers through her hair and took it out of its tie. “what happened?”

she shook her head, hiding her face further. muffled against your collar, you heard her say, “i thought i was gonna lose them all.”

you shushed her as the tears broke her more. “come upstairs,” you wished. “clean yourself up and rest.”

after a minute, she let you go and you led her up. she showered as you tidied the bed and turned off some of the lights. after a while, you realized she was probably just standing in the shower, staring at the tile wall. 

a lot of her hours were spent blankly staring and thinking. for such a young woman she had too much in her mind. everyone did, living in this world. you surely had your share of bad days. but everything seemed to hit ellie harder.

there was no clock in your bedroom, but you assumed she was in there for half an hour. when she came out, she quickly dressed in a hoodie and sweats but didn’t get into bed.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, sitting up.

she shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “i just can’t sleep right now.”

“well, why don’t you lay down and try? you’ve had a long day, i’ll help you relax.”

she continued to shake her head. “no.”

“ellie, i just think you should get some rest. why don’t you tell me what happened—“

“i don’t—“ she snapped. her face soured into anger and she clenched her jaw. “i don’t want to go to sleep or talk about it.”

she didn't take her time leaving. the bedroom door was shut behind her before you could think of something else to say. you could hear her stomping down the stairs. a moment later, she was creeking the floorboards of the back porch.

she was smoking again. you told her a thousand times to stop with the cigarettes. it was a nasty habit that would kill her faster than a bloater. she always turned to it when she was stressed and it was difficult to pry it out of her fingers.

you got out of bed and went downstairs. you had no plan in your head to deal with the situation, but something told you to act on instinct.

she was in fact sitting on the back deck, nursing a hand-rolled cigarette. in the dark backyard you could see the burning embers more than her distressed face. when you opened up the screen door she winced and looked away from you, blowing smoke out into the night air.

“i don’t need you yelling at me right now,” she bit, putting the cigarette back between her chapped lips and taking a long drag. “just go to bed.”

“i’m not here to yell at you.” you walked over slowly and stood beside her. you shifted, leaned down to grab her chin and tilt her head up to look at you.

her wide, pouting eyes were pitiful. she stared up at you like she had nothing else in the world. perhaps a part of her was trying to be upset at you, but more of her needed you.

you sighed and whispered her name, leaning in to kiss her. 

she was needy. with your lips, you nearly pulled her up out of her seat so she could stay close to you. her hands were grasping at your jaw, dragging you back down to her.

you held yourself propped up on the arms of the chair, hanging over her as her desperate kisses broke you. she was practically whining and begging to have more of you. her hands slid over your shoulders and under the collar of your t-shirt.

you led your kisses lower, sliding your teeth over her neck to make her stutter. she gripped your shoulders to steady herself as you sucked a dark mark on the curve of her neck. she sighed and leaned her head back to give all of herself to you.

“you need to relax," you cooed, whispering in her ear. “you’ve had a bad day, baby, i know. just let me help you, okay?”

she pursed her lips and nodded quickly, meeting your eyes. her pupils were blown and she watched in awe as you got on your knees in front of her. you slid your hands up her thighs to tease the edge of her waistband. her cigarette was long forgotten as she stared down at you with wide eyes and parted lips.

you kissed her clothed thigh and smiled. 

she was breathless, staring down at you with her mouth agape. with a nervous, light laugh she looked around the backyard and stuttered. “shit, babe. people—someone could see or hear—“

“then don’t let them.” you snapped. pulling at the tie of her sweatpants. that seemed to shut her up enough. 

your backyard was fenced in and had a border of thick trees. someone could only see the two of you if they were trying to. but surely they could hear ellie if they stepped outside. she had a cute habit of not being able to control herself.

you pulled both her pants and boxers down at the same time. just enough so you could spread her legs and dip your head down into her cunt. she eagerly helped you, fighting the elastic to make sure you had enough access.

this was no night to make her wait. 

you kissed up her slit, letting her get just an idea of how it felt, before sliding your tongue through her folds.

she moaned and let her head fall back. you smiled against her, exhaling to tease. your tongue flicked against her pearl, having her nearly slip off the chair, and you kept going.

you rolled your lips over her sensitive bud, sucking it into your mouth and then kissing her. you were slow and loving, giving attention to every inch of her. your hands massaged circles into her upper thighs, urging them to spread as much as they could. she would've been a fool not to listen.

she had her hand gripping the top of your head and moving it how she wanted. part of her force was trying to push you further down to hide you, but more of it was getting leverage to rock her hips and fuck your face. 

she was stuttering in her act to play it cool. her elbow rested on the arm rest, hands clasped over her mouth as she forced her eyes to keep from rolling back. a heavy blush had spread across her face and her legs were shaking. they squeezed around your head as you sucked her clit into your mouth. 

with the extravagance of her reactions, you knew she needed this. every tense bone and muscle in her body was relaxing. you reached up under her sweatshirt with one hand to massage her tit. you rolled your finger over her nipple, feeling it pebble as you rolled it between your fingers.

she bit her lip and whined, rocking her hips faster as her hand fell from her mouth to grip the chair. she still held your head close and steady, flinching and moaning every time you took her clit in between your lips.

"fuck, baby, don't stop," she cried. she lost her breath. "please, don't stop."

her whiny voice sent pleasure down to your core. you were growing wet in your own underwear, pressing your thighs together as you kept your steady but rougher pace.

your eyes flicked up to look at her blushing, freckled face. she looked down and met your eyes, and that was it for her. she cried out, tugging at your hair and pressing her cunt against your face to ride out her orgasm.

you guided her through her high, smoothing your hands over her hips and thighs to ease her down from her bliss.

her lips and face were rosy. she took a deep breath, sighing contently as you bit her inner thigh and licked over the mark.

you rested your head on her leg as she ran her fingers through your hair. she was staring out at the trees, still recovering while you smiled to yourself and drew small shapes on her skin.

"ellie," you whispered, giggling. "you okay?"

she nodded and brushed the hair off your forehead. she looked down at you. "let's go upstairs."

you jumped up and grabbed her hand to pull her with you. she was already on you, chasing you to the back door. she caught you just before and pushed you against the wall.

her lips were on yours before you could think. she roughly grabbed your hips, slamming them back before pushing hers into you. you moaned against her lips, dizzy and weak.

her hand fumbled beside you, opening the back door. when it swung open, she rushed to push you in. she had to get you inside. it was consuming her. her vision tunneled on your body as she followed you through the living room and up the stairs. you were stumbling over each other and you got into the bedroom.

she swung the door shut behind her and grabbed you again. everything was happening so fast you could hardly remember where you were standing when she kissed you. she was frantic and rough, grabbing your ass to pull you against her and squeezing to get a moan out of you.

it was a blur of her desperation. one second you had your shirt on, the next, you didn't. your bra, pants, and panties were quick to be tossed aside. she was stripping too and soon she was throwing you into bed and crawling on top.

she was panting, staring down at your face laid perfectly on the pillows. you were dazed, looking up at her with waiting eyes. naked together, you always lost all sense and could only focus on her.

her body folded against yours as you made out. her tongue was tasting every part of your mouth as your breasts pressed to hers. she slid her thigh between your legs and moaned into your lips when she felt how wet you were.

she hummed. "ready for me already?"

you moaned in response, cradling her jaw to draw her back to kissing you. she tasted like heaven. she was getting sloppier, kissing you like she'd never have another chance. her teeth slid over you bottom lip and bit down enough for you to flinch.

you dragged your hands down her chest while she led hers lower. she was rocking your hips against her thigh, getting all of your slick across her skin as she just barely stimulated you. she wanted to tease you. watching you whine and beg was what got her off.

she kissed your neck as she humped her leg against you. with every drag of her hips you get closer and closer to screaming at her to touch you. that was what she wanted.

"ellie..." you sighed. she bit on the sensitive spot of your neck and you lost all your words. for now, that seemed to be enough for her to do what you wanted.

she moved her leg and dipped her fingers between your folds. your slick was enough for her digits to slide inside of you with ease. you moaned and pressed your head into the pillows. ellie stared down at you, watching every reaction as her fingers curled into your cunt.

you wrapped your legs around her and she leaned back down to kiss you. it was useless as every other kiss was interrupted with your whines. she nipped at your lips and went back to your neck as she fucked her fingers into you. she was hitting that sweet, spongy spot every time. she had your legs shaking and nearly falling off of her.

she bit at you ear lobe. "you're gonna take everything I give you, yeah?"

you moaned and nodded. her voice could've been enough to make you cum.

"good."

her other hand moved up and wrapped around your neck. she pressed and held you down into the mattress. she used the leverage to put pressure on your neck and lean back, fingering you rougher now.

you gasped and struggled for breath. it was embarrassing how another wave of pleasure surged to your core as you struggled to breathe.

"today was really fucking shitty, baby, but you're making it all so much better." she tightened her grip and you dizzied. your fingers felt fuzzy and your eyes prickled with tears. "I really, really love watching you like this. you're so pretty when you're gasping, princess."

she was taking her anger out on you. everything she wanted to do to those infected she was doing to you. hell, she could've killed you now if she wanted to. she had you at her mercy, your cunt squeezing around her fingers and your hands gripping her wrist.

any attempt at speaking was lost in your lungs. her fingers curved and fucked you at just the right spot to get you close to your orgasm. she could tell just by the squeezing of you legs around her hips.

she brought her thumb up to rub circles over your clit. "come on. cum for me, sweetheart."

you choked out a moan, eyes rolling back as your orgasm washed over you in waves of pleasure. she kept her fingers hitting that same perfect spot as you saw stars and clawing at her arm. it all lasted enough to make your vision spotty and your cunt clench around her digits.

she released you gently and rubbed the sore skin where she had held you. you took that long breath you had been needing and blinked the tears out of your eyes. she hummed and kissed you cheek, rubbing your thigh. "you alright, baby?"

you took another long breath and nodded. she smirked and kissed the corner of your mouth, adjusting your legs.

before you'd fully recovered, she was hooking one of your legs around her and moving one of hers over your other. she dipped close and rested her core just above yours.

she slid her folds over yours, finding the right spot to have her clit rubbing against yours. you cried from the overstimulation, gripping her shoulders and digging your nails into her back.

she stared down at the joining of your bodies, rolling her hips over and over again to feel your bud hit hers.

she had one hand holding your thigh and the other arm propped on her elbow beside your head. her face was hot and blushed, lips parted as she moaned softly and breathed heavily.

your eyes pinched shut as the pleasure turned from too much to just what you needed.

she was focusing on her needs. she was using you as a fuck toy to get herself off. that should not have made you as wet as it did. but you pushed your hips up to meet hers, matching her rhythm. you had her biting her lip and sinking her head to your collar.

both of you were overstimulated and close. her legs were shaking, trying to hold her up as she drew herself closer to orgasm. she upped her pace, harshly fucking her cunt against yours. you could hear her whispering vague words but they were lost in your skin. she was unreachable, chasing her high as she led you to yours as well.

"cum with me, baby," she muttered, "please, I need it." her words cut off into a moan as you led your hand down to squeeze her ass. with your hand encouraging her hips, she screamed and came. in her frantic search for pleasure, she brought you to finish and you came with her.

you both were a heaving, blissful mess of easing down from your climaxes. ellie collapsed on top of you, resting her head on your shoulder and rubbing your waist.

your hands found her hair and you ran your fingers through it. your chest heaved and fell with every recovering breath. you stared at the ceiling, unsure of how the night turned around so quickly.

what was once a lust-filled room was now one of comfort and silence. you lay together for eternity, you stroking her hair and her leaving light kisses on your collarbone.

eventually, she climbed off of you to clean up, coming back to wipe you off. when she was done, she got back into bed with you and you held her. her body curved into yours and you could tell she had shut her eyes.

"i love you," you muttered, kissing the back of her neck.

she sighed. "i love you too. and I'm sorry."

you shushed her. "everything's okay, baby. just go to sleep now."

she nodded, burying her face into her pillow.

note: sorry for not posting, i was on vacation and we had no wifi :( anyway, i love love love ellie. and to my friend who was on vacation with me and watched me write this, you slay hope you liked it. i also hope your phone is fixed.

tag list:

@archangeldyke-all, @cacston, @sevsarm, @sevsbaby @maneskinwh0re

@orangepeelz1324

[revasserium]

Okay okay hear me out Rain: reader watching Sanji cook, just sitting, waiting, maybe reading a book but catching glances at him every so often and he knows they're looking at him and just smiles....sorry I love that man

accidentally in love

opla!sanji; 2,569 words; fluff, banter so much banter, flirting, flustered!sanji, whipped!sanji, no "y/n", confessions, "sweetheart", fem!reader, straw hat"!reader

summary: in which sanji is trying to cook dinner but you're very, very distracting. or, sanji finally meets his match.

a/n: i know i said i might not write for anyone other than zoro but i lied. i guess i'm a sanji bitch now too. fuck.

Sanji’s always liked to say that he can cook anywhere, anytime, given that he’s got something that resembles heat and a smattering of ingredients — like any great artist, he knows how to make do. But, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy this — the quiet of a ship’s kitchen, the gentle sway of the ocean, the simmer and pop of fat on a pan, the soft bubbling of boiling water — and you.

You, perched on the counter with your legs hanging off the side, hair piled up and pinned with a chopstick, a book in your hands or on your lap, the early afternoon sun spilling in to caress your skin like so many loving fingers. Sometimes, he’ll glance over while chopping onions or mincing garlic to catch a glimpse of you, and he’d find himself stilling, his fingers slowing, his breath suspended in his chest, caught like an insect in amber: held weightless and perfect.

“You’re staring,” you say, flipping a page without looking up, a smile twitching at your lips.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve found that admiring beautiful things helps me in my creative process,” he says, his grin going lopsided as he lowers his eyes to the ingredients on the cutting board — tiny, plump cherry tomatoes ripe to bursting. He resumes slicing each in half with swift, decisive cuts and relishes in the sound of your laughter.

“Careful with that mouth of yours — someone might accidentally fall in love with you,” you flip another page.

Sanji slides the cut tomatoes into a bowl and wipes a hand on the towel slung over his shoulder.

“Accidentally? C’mon, you gotta gimme some more credit. But if anyone’s fallin’ in love, it’s gonna be with you.”

Another page. Sanji plucks a few zucchini from a large bag and starts to julienne them into thin strips.

“What are you making?” you ask, finally setting the book down in favor of peering at all the ingredients he’s got laid out. He quirks an eyebrow, glancing up.

“What, finished with that book already?”

“Nope — just found something more interesting to look at, that’s all.”

Sanji blushes.

Let it never be said that Vinsmoke Sanji can’t take as good as he gives but by all the gods and monsters and sea kings — you’re a damn good flirt. Almost as good as he is, he used to think. Now, as he covers up his rapidly darkening cheeks with a chuckle, turning away to grab a potato for skinning, he wonders if you might just be better.

“You never answered my question, y’know.”

He looks up again, his tongue feeling strangely swollen and uncoordinated in his mouth. You’re grinning at him, your legs still swinging, but in the few seconds he’d looked away, you’ve inched closer, your outer thigh now almost pressing against the edge of his cutting board.

The first time he’d found you perched up on his long work table with a book in your lap, he’d blinked, crossed his arms, and debated on asking what on earth you thought you were doing. Chefs generally do not take kindly to their prep spaces being treated like free real estate for sitting, but he’d never been able to say no to a beautiful woman, now has he? And least of all you.

“Thought you could use the company,” was your answer to his then-unasked question. He’d laughed, nodded, and gotten on with his breakfast prep. But that was months ago and since then, it’s become something of a habit; a ritual, almost.

“What question was that? I was —” he asks, clearing his throat, his fingers almost slipping on the freshly peeled potato, “distracted by your —”

“What are you making?”

“Oh —” Sanji returns his gaze to the cutting board, now acutely aware of the smell of your skin, creamy and warm. He swallows, trying to focus on slicing the potato.

“Just a cherry tomato and zucchini noodle pasta — not often that we get such fresh produce. But Luffy’d asked if I can make chips from scratch the other day so that’s what this bad boy’s for,” he says, holding up half the potato.

“You sure one potato’s gonna be enough?” you shift your leg to cross one above the other, and Sanji has to swallow passed the thickness building up in the back of his throat at the sight of your soft, smooth thighs.

“Good point,” he says, laughing as he bends down to grab a few more.

You fall into a companionable silence, the quiet only punctuated by the tack-tack-tack of his knife on the cutting board and the occasionally shunk-thump of ingredients being swept into a metal prep bowl.

“You’re staring,” he says. And this time, it’s Sanji who grins, keeping his eyes fixed on the remainder of the herb mix he’s chopping up.

“Yeah, I know. I’m making a habit of admiring beautiful things. I’ve heard that it’s good for me.”

Heat bursts in Sanji’s chest as if he’d swallowed a shot of whiskey or gin or perhaps something even more potent. His head spins, but he steadies himself before letting out a soft, low whistle. He fights the urge to look up just to check if you’re as affected as he is.

“Keep talkin’ like that and falling in love with you’s not gonna be an accident.”

When he finally looks up to shoot you a flirty smile, he finds himself faltering as he meets your eyes.

“Who said I wanted it to be an accident?”

The knife in Sanji’s hand slips and he swears as it knicks the skin of his forefinger.

“Ah, shit —”

“Oops.” You have the decency to look sheepish as he shoots you a mildly reproachful look. But you shift your legs and tug open a drawer that had been tucked beneath where your knee had been, pulling out a small bandage.

“Come here,” you offer, reaching out as he stares at you for a second before moving forward to give you his hand. You gently wipe away the blood before pressing the bandage to the small cut, running a thumb over the edges to make sure it’s sealed.

The air hangs between you like dust motes trapped in sunlight, like first snow caught in the silvery breaths of awestruck children.

“There,” you say, the word no more than a whisper. Your hands linger over his, his skin burning where you’d touched him. Shivers skitter down the length of his spine as he gulps in a breath of air that tastes faintly of fairytale endings and happily-ever-afters.

“Thanks.”

He doesn't pull away. Neither do you.

Like this, he can count every single lash that frames your doe-wide eyes. Like this, he can feel the static thrum of electricity threatening to jump from his body to yours, and all at once, he understands why lightning always tries to reach for the closest thing to its storm-ridden skies.

Perhaps it, too, yearns for closeness — for that infinitesimal moment of connection.

He wants to reach for you.

Your lips hover a kiss’s-breadth away.

An alarm goes off.

“Oh fuck —”

He jerks away from you, the world clanging rudely back into focus as he reaches for the lid of a large pot, his heart hammering something fierce inside his ribcage. He nearly burns himself on the thick fog of steam rising from inside the pot to reveal six flat-face crabs, freshly caught that morning.

Behind him, he hears the distinct sounds of you slipping from the long work table.

“Leaving already?” he asks as he turns back around with a stab at his usual light-hearted cheek.

You lick your lips, grinning, “I feel like I’ve caused enough damage for one dinner service. If I keep hanging around, you might lose a finger next.”

“Small price to pay for the company of a beautiful woman,” but there’s a gravel and grit to his voice that wasn’t there before, and he looks away first when this time your eyes catch. He tries to busy himself with prepping the pan sauce for the crabs.

“I’ll let Nami know that the next time she wants to peek in on you cooking.”

“Hey —”

You pause at the sound of his voice just as you reach the door. You turn.

Sanji’s expression flickers between caution and anticipation as he opens his mouth, his eyes somehow sharper and darker than they usually are.

“We’re not done talking about this.”

You cock your head, “About what?”

But there’s a smile teasing at the corner of your lips and Sanji lets out a good-humored sigh.

“Alright, go. Or else I might lose more than a finger.”

Like a heart, he thinks as you close the door behind you with a soft click.

Dinner is an appetizer of cold zucchini pasta followed by a warm, tangy tomato veloute. Then come the crabs — freshly steamed over a bed of risotto and served with a lemon and rosemary pan sauce so delicious it has even Zoro sighing with satisfaction.

“Wow, special occasion?” Nami asks, looking up as Sanji comes around with a tray full of cocktails, complete with blood orange slices garnishing the lip of each glass.

“Ain’t every day a special one with this crew?” he asks, winking at Nami as she takes her drink.

Everyone laughs, but as he sets down your drink, you notice a tiny note tucked beneath the base of your glass.

You take a sip of your drink, glancing down at the note. It has three simple words written in Sanji’s unmistakable, slanted handwriting:

Kitchen — after dinner.

You tuck the note away in your pocket with a secret grin, taking another long sip of the cold, refreshing drink.

The final course is a heaping pile of home-made potato chips with garlic and cheese dip, and Luffy wastes no time in shoveling half the batch into his mouth, crunching loudly over a series of vague, animalistic hums and grunts that all seem to denote happiness.

You finish your drink and slip away under the guise of going for another.

When you get to the kitchen, it's to find Sanji already cleaning up.

“Need a hand?” you ask, setting your empty glass on the counter before lightly hoisting yourself up onto it.

Sanji shakes his head, turning off the water and wiping down his hands. He pours you another drink from a large pitcher before setting it down and pursing his lips.

“This afternoon —”

“I meant what I said —” you say, cutting him off as you look away, eyes fixed on your knees as you swing your feet away from the table’s edge, “if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sanji clears his throat, reaching into his pocket to grab a cigarette and a lighter, if only to keep his hands busy. The thing in his chest that he’d been so convinced was his heart for most of his life now feels very much like a ticking time bomb. Or perhaps a hand grenade, with the pin held precariously between your teeth.

One word from you and —

“So? What about you?” you ask.

Sanji sucks in a long breath of smoke, holding it in his lungs before letting it out. The familiar sting grounds him as he looks at you and wonders if you know all the things he’d do for you. All the things he’s already done.

“Me?” he asks.

“Yeah — did you mean it?” And for the first time since he’s known you, you sound uncertain, “All… all those things you said? All the things you’ve been saying?”

He takes a few steps forward, finally allowing himself to breach the delicate circle of your personal space, his free hand coming to rest on the counter next to your thigh, his palm pressing flat to keep himself from going too far, too fast.

“Three guesses,” he says, letting his eyes flicker down to your lips and linger there, “You guess right… and there might be a prize involved, hm?”

A small, knowing grin spreads across your lips even as you quirk an eyebrow.

“Three guesses to a yes or no question? C’mon, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re losing your touch.”

Sanji leans in and you can almost taste the smoke on your tongue.

“But you do know better, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You suck in a breath, reaching up to tug the cigarette from his lips.

“Yes.”

You catch a flash of his smile a second before his lips find yours. He tastes of salt and tobacco and lemon-rosemary sauce.

“That’s one,” he says as the pair of you break apart. The cigarette lies forgotten on the counter.

Somehow, his hands have found their way to the bend of your waist, settling there as naturally as the tide might settle against its favorite stretch of forgotten beach.

You smile as you reach up to tug him closer, “Yes.”

Another kiss.

Sanji notes with a satisfied grin that your cheeks are just as flushed as his feels when he pulls away this time. He nods, trailing long fingers up your side, one hand reaching up to cup your cheek, the other pressing at the small of your back.

“That’s two.”

You nudge his nose with yours and he feels his hand-grenade heart leap into his throat.

“And…” you hum, letting your head lilt to one side as you ghost your lips over his, “Hm, lemme think about this one…”

Sanji rolls his eyes, tugging you forward by the back of your neck, crushing your mouth to his. It’s more insistent this time — the kiss, the breath, his fingers, your hands — more desperate and fumbling, fueled by the ever-growing heat bubbling at the base of his spine.

“Yes —” you hiss, panting as the pair of you pull apart, your pupils blown wide and dark in the dim kitchen light.

“And that’s all three,” he says, his smile going wide with warmth, “See? You’ve got it. Knew you’d get there.”

“Did you ever doubt?”

Sanji shrugs, taking half a step back to admire the sight of you, with kiss-swollen lips and heat-flushed skin. Perfect might not be strong enough a word.

“There was a moment here or there,” he says, to which you respond with a light shove to his shoulder as you hop off the table.

“Oh, I meant to ask you — what’s for dessert?”

Sanji laughs, “What? Did my garlic-cheddar chips not satisfy?”

“Really? Chips for dessert? And here I was hoping for something sweet.”

You make to leave the kitchen but Sanji reaches forward, pulling you back all too easily, spinning you around and pinning you against the door. His eyes are soft with mirth but as he leans down, you can’t help but shiver at the promise of something more lingering beneath the smoke of his breath.

“Well then, sweetheart, I think I’ve got my dessert picked out already now, don’t I?”

recs r technically closed, but... if you have an opla!sanji one... send it here.

[cow-smells]

Worth your While | Opla! Sanji x reader

Request: I've read that you are in the need for some Sanji request or ideas so here's one for a fic :D

The crew gets into a fight ( it can be the Navy or anither pirate crew) and the reader gets badly hit and Sanji just loses his shit seeing the person that he cared for the most getting knocked out?? I just genuinely wanna see Sanji just go ape shit on people because of it XD and maybe hiw the others in the clue will react to seeing Sanji like that? @smolracoon25

Summary: You and Sanji have been playing the flirting game for way too long. When you get injured, Sanji shows a side of himself you had yet to see.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: none

A/n: I'm going purely off the live-action so pls have that in mind, also I'm just getting back in to the rhythm of writing after such a long time so sorry if this is poop/ooc/both, love ya :)

Read on AO3

“Don't you ever take a break?”

Zoro's voice coming from behind startled you, forcing you to break your longing gaze at Sanji who was fishing at the bow of the ship. “Huh?” came your wise response.

Zoro looked from you to Sanji. “You've been making moon eyes at him for months now. Don't you get tired? Or are you waiting for him to take his shift staring at you so that you can clock off?”

You felt heat rising to your cheeks. This was far from the first time crew members commented about you and Sanji's – whatever was going on between you two – but this was the first time Zoro called you out so blatantly.

When you didn't respond, Zoro went on. “I just came to tell you we should be docking soon. I'll leave you the pleasure of telling the cook.” with that, he left.

You closed the book on your lap. You really did have the intention of reading when you first head out to the deck, having some time to kill, but then... you noticed Sanji. At first you thought you'd go sit with him for a while, flirt and banter a little as you always do, but you found yourself absorbed in taking him in instead. He was different when he was alone. The way he looked so focused, so deep in thought when it was just him and the sea. Maybe even a little sad. So different from his usual sunny exterior that he put on when he was with people. Falling in to deep thoughts wondering what he might be thinking about – maybe about you? - you sat and stared, not reading as much as a word.

The book discarded, you felt a spring in your step as you made your way to the ship's chef.

The creaking floorboards alerted your arrival. Sanji turned to see who was creeping up on him, and when he saw you, he set his fishing rod aside as a wide smile grew on his lips, his dimples deepening and making your heart miss a beat. “There's my favourite girl. Come here, let me hear all about your day.” Sanji held his arms open, beckoning you to come sit on his lap.

The flirting was nothing new. When you first joined the Strawhats, Sanji was as flirty to you as he was to any other woman; he did not expect to meet his match in you. You were quick to play along, always one-upping him, dancing along the line that separated playfulness and seriousness, never quite picking a side.

The problem was, in reality, you had chosen a side long ago.

You would flirt and giggle and make him blush but never actually act upon anything. Neither would Sanji. He, however, took your playing along as though it was a battle to be won. Sanji would flirt, you'd reply with something raunchy, he would surprise you with something heartfelt. It was as though he knew exactly where to hit in order to get you a little closer to buckling, every time. As time went on he had become so devoted to your back and forth that you noticed he had gradually abandoned all other efforts flirting with other women, to focus entirely on you.

You had to remind yourself that this was a game to him. An instinct, almost. It hurt to think of your relationship that way, but you had to keep that thought at the forefront of your mind if you didn't want to fall even harder for him.

So you would continue to play along, even if that's all that you could have with him.

You chose not to indulge him completely – that was too dangerous for you – and so you opted to bend a knee over the armrest of his chair. Close, but no contact. “Come on, Sanji,” you bent your head in what felt like a bashful manner and said, “you know I spent all day thinking of you.”

You weren't sure if he was blushing or if that was just your wishful thinking. Composing himself, Sanji wrapped an arm around you to hold your waist, lightly tracing circles on your hip. “I beg of you, darling – next time, come find me instead of just thinking of me. I'll make it worth your while.”

You wanted to ask, how will you make it worth my while? Just to hear Sanji go in to detail of what you've been fantasizing about for months. But instead, you opted for a tamer response. “I came to tell you we're docking soon. Maybe I'll find you then and you could make it worth my while with a drink.”

Without missing a beat, Sanji took hold of your hand, bringing it to his lips. “There's nothing I'd enjoy more.” With that, he kissed your hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

Docking started out normal. Everyone knew what their usual chores were when you reached a town, restocking and fixing so that the ship would be in top condition for its next leg of the journey in your search for the One Piece. So while Sanji went in to town to restock on groceries (you didn't pay much attention to the others), you, Nami and Usopp stayed around the ship to fix up some of the damage it took when you last encountered a rival pirate ship. That also happened to be the reason it was just you three when the same rival pirates noticed your ship docked, ready to take their revenge.

The three of you had your individual talents, but you just weren't enough to hold up against an entire rival crew. They had attacked so suddenly and so fiercely – it didn't take long before you were on the sand, fighting to stay conscious. You lost that fight as you watched Usopp try his best to fight off three attackers at once.

You really thought that would be the end for you. You should have known better; it was Sanji's voice you heard as you regained consciousness, motivating you to open your eyes despite the pain that flooded your body.

The beach area all around you was covered with pirates who were taken down, just like you – only that they were your enemies. You first noticed Nami's orange hair – she seemed to be taking care of a bleeding Usopp, his condition worse than yours. Following Sanji's voice, you found him holding the last one of the rival crew by his shirt, throwing punches like you've never seen him before. It took you aback – thinking about it, you had never seen Sanji use his hands in combat. Too precious – need them for cooking, he'd once told you before adding, the only thing more precious to me is you. It had made you blush at the time before you had laughed him off. Now, you were questioning if it was a joke at all.

The man Sanji was holding wasn't putting up a fight – he was far too battered for that, but Sanji didn't stop. He was too far away for you to understand what he was saying to the guy, but focusing hard, you could just about make out half sentences – "to hit a woman" – "don't deserve to breath" – "finish you" – you searched for the strength to get up and stop him. You had never seen Sanji – your happy, cheerful Sanji – so angry, feral even. It scared you a little; but mostly, you knew Sanji would regret it if he were to kill a man who no longer posed a threat. So you grasped at the sand, forcing your aching bones to pick yourself up. But as you were regaining your balance, Sanji finally threw the man to the sand, a look of disgust painting his handsome features. "Finally made a date with her and you ruined it... You hurt her. You're lucky I don't kill you." The man groaned in pain.

In a sharp change, his features went from anger to concern as he finally left the man and turned to where he last saw you laying. His eyes were full of honest pain, until he saw you on your feet – then they read of hope. "Y/n!" Sanji called, rushing to you as he could see your struggle to stand upright. "You- I-" he scanned your body as he reached you, taking in all visible injuries. "Are you – are you okay? Can I help you?" he reached an arm around your waist, waiting for your approval before he held on to help you stay up, so afraid he might hurt you.

"Thanks." his arm around you really helped you to stay up. It was a practical measure, sure, any one of your crew mates would do the same – but when you look up and meet Sanji's eyes, you know that the tense feeling between you two wouldn't have been replicated with anyone else. "I mean it. You saved us. We'd... I'd be lost without you." at that, Sanji smiled that deep-dimpled smile of his at you, the playfulness not reaching his still-concerned eyes.

"Y/n," he started. "are you really flirting with me, at a time like this?"

It was strange how despite all your injuries, you felt less and less of the pain the longer you leaned in to Sanji, close enough to smell his fragrance. A half-smile reached your lips. You couldn't play this game any longer. "Did you really beat that guy up that bad because he ruined what should have been our... date?"

Sanji tensed, obviously not ready to have this conversation now. His gaze dropped momentarily before he wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you tightly to him. "I had a hundred reasons to kill him," Sanji said, and you felt disappointment bubbling through you until he continued, "but the most pressing reason is that he ruined our date."

Sanji took the opportunity to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear and you couldn't help but smile so big you were embarrassed by it. "I really wanted that drink with you, away from the ship and everyone else. Just us."

You recomposed yourself. You needed clarity. "I'm not playing anymore, Sanji."

Sanji chuckled. "Fancy that. I was never playing at all."

You must have forgotten how to breath at all when he leaned down, his hand finding a rest on your neck as his thumb caressed your cheek. Nearly a whisper, he asked – "Can I kiss you?"

You leaning in served as the consent he searched for. After months of pining over each other, wondering what it would be like – his lips met yours, in a mixture of softness and passion like you'd never felt before. Forgetting you were injured at all you sneaked your arms around his neck, pulling him in, almost afraid of letting this anticipated moment of passion go. Sanji was more than happy to pull closer, a hand on your lower back holding you impossibly close to him.

The moment did, however, find its end as you heard your Captain whoop and holler from afar. "Yeah! Way to go, Sanji! About damn time!"

Breaking the kiss, Sanji nodded at Luffy, his smile lines prominent as he looked the proudest you'd ever seen him.

The crew was more than happy to make a quick exit that night, preferring to not stay around until the rival crew regained their strength. You were helping Nami untie the ropes anchoring the ship to the dock when she said, "I really thought he was going to kill him earlier." you didn't know how to respond. "I've never seen Sanji like that." Nami managed to untie a knot, and Zoro began pulling the rope up on to the ship. "He's really got it bad for you."

Despite that questionable context, you couldn't help but smile. In a burst of honesty you confessed; "I hope so, because I've got it real bad for him, too."

On cue, the ship's chef leaned over the ships railing, looking down to you. "Y/n, my love!" he called, as though the rest of the crew wasn't surrounding the both of you. "I hope you're finished down there, because I've got a candlelit dinner waiting for you up here. And drinks. You know, to make it worth your while," he finished with a wink.

From behind Sanji you could hear Luffy ask, "What about our dinner? Just because you're lovers now doesn't mean we don't need to eat..."

Sanji sighed and turned away from you, probably to go protect your dinner before Luffy demolished it.

"Right then, let's go," Nami said as you finished untying the last rope. "While there's still food to eat."

And for the first time, you boarded your ship not to find the One Piece or the All Blue – you were just happy to be there, with the man you loved.

[buck-star]

Dinner with the mobster | Bucky Barnes

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> Mob!Single!Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> Your boss - who is also the most feared man in town - asks you to go out for dinner with him. When he suggests taking his daughter with him, you agree to go out with them.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 2.295

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> (G) none, just fluff

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 -> Hi I absolutely love your work. I was wondering if you could write a mob boss! Single dad!Bucky Barnes x reader. Feel free to ignore if it makes you uncomfortable. Thank you 🤎🤎

𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you so much for your nice words, they really mean a lot and thank you for the sweet request. I wanted to write more for Mob!Bucky and your request was the perfect opportunity to do so. I hope you like what I made with it.🩷🩷 Divider made by @firefly-graphics.

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 -> AFG Fluff Bingo | Row Two-One | First Date | @anyfandomfluffbingo

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

James Buchanan Barnes, the most popular mobster in town, has at least one hundred men who are protecting him and another one hundred men as well as women who clean his house, cook for him, or do other chores. His house - his villa - near the forest is almost not even in town anymore. The man could have every woman, and almost every woman admires him. He has long brown hair, mostly tied into a bun; his beard is trimmed; he has ocean blue eyes; and he has a smile that could light up the darkest night. James has a muscular body, is tall, and is just the dream of every woman. But even though he could have it all, he lives with his daughter alone. But he has an eye on someone, someone who doesn’t look really interested in him, which slightly confuses him but makes her more interesting for the mobster.

“Daddy, look what I found,” his princess says with a proud smile, holding up a book in her hands.

He furrows his eyebrows, his legs spread, while he sits on his couch and waits for the woman he asked to come into his office. In his hand, he holds a glass of his favorite Bourbon while he looks at his daughter. She walks closer to him, pushing herself up to sit on his lap before she holds the book closer to his face. James reads the title on it and smirks.

“That’s the book your friends - my employees - wrote into, isn’t it?” he asks with a smirk.

He told all his closest employees to write into the book after his princess was sad about having just four people - next to her - written into it. Those people were James, Sam, Steve, and Natasha. And then she asked her daddy if he knew if some more who wanted to write into it. Of course she also has friends, but the little girl prefers the big men around her, commanding them around like her daddy does, and he enjoys seeing his well-working education.

“Do you wanna see it?” she asks, kissing her daddy’s cheek softly.

The small girl looks like James - just the smaller, female version - but she has the same brown hair, ocean blue eyes, and the same smirk and pout on her lips as her daddy.

“But just until Y/N is here,” James says, and he turns his daughter around.

With his hands wrapped around her tummy, he looks over her shoulder. Her small back is pressed against his broad chest. Then she opens the book and waits for her daddy to start reading. James does, and his princess is always telling him something about the pictures before he can turn to the next side.

After a few minutes, it knocks at the door, and he looks up to see you standing there, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. You play with your fingers, looking down, while you just stand there and wait for James to give you instructions.

“I- I can- I’m sorry for distracting you,” you mumble when your nervousness grows.

“No, it’s fine. I asked you to come here, so please come in,” he says with his rough voice, and you shiver slightly.

When you met him for the first time, he was scary, and being so close to such a dangerous man can still be scary, but he is all soft and sweet around you and makes you feel like you are special to him. Little do you know you’re special to him, and he would buy the whole town, the moon, or the whole universe for you just to see your smile and hear you laughing while he is the reason for it.

James leans closer to his daughter, kissing her cheek before he lifts her off his lap and places her in front of him.

“Tell Uncle Stevie he has to give you some cookies,” James says, laughing when he sees his daughter jumping around with a giggle before she runs out of the room.

His ocean blue eyes then meet you again, and he gets off the couch as well. James walks closer to the door, gripping the doorknob while he waits for you to walk into the room to close the door behind you. It makes you a bit uncomfortable to be all alone with him in a room, but you know you’re safe.

“Wanna drink something, Bourbon? It’s a good one, my favorite bourbon.”

“N-no, thank you. I- Uhm- I’m fine, really,” you mumble.

You could face palm yourself when you realize what you just said. He didn’t want to know more, just if you wanted to have a drink. You inhale deeply while he leads you to the couch. When the two of you are taking a seat, he smiles and turns his head toward you.

“Do you have any plans for tonight?”

“N-no. I can take care of your daughter when you have plans for tonight.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” he laughs softly and takes a sip of his bourbon. “More like, do you have time to go out with me?”

Your mouth drops open, and you swallow hard, rubbing your palms over your pants to dry the sweat.

“I- You’re my boss, James,” you say quietly, turning your head away.

He chuckles softly and slides his hand to your back, stroking it softly while he takes another sip of his bourbon. The shiver along your spine makes him grin even more, and the way your body reacts to his touch lets him admire you even more.

“I’m not asking you, actually. Babydoll, let me take you out, please.”

“I-I don’t want to overstep boundaries. I- James, I should go back to my room,” you mumble.

Bucky chuckles; the way his body vibrates against yours sent another shiver along your spine. His thumb moves closer to your lips before he slides it over them, making you gasp. Your boss is so close, you can feel his hot breath on your skin; his touches are like electricity, causing more goosebumps all over your skin. Bucky leans closer, his lips almost touching your ear, inhaling your scent before he kisses your earlobe.

“How about we take Mia with us? You love her, and she loves you.”

None of the two of you mentioned that there are feelings between you and Bucky. You nod softly, but he sees it and smiles, kissing your earlobe again. Then he pulls away.

“I will pick you up in an hour,” he says, getting up, and you follow.

The two of you walk to the door. He opens it and runs his fingers over your back before you walk out of the room and to yours to change into something better to go out with your boss.

Like he told you, he is knocking at your door an hour later, wearing a suit - like always - his cologne all around you, and you smile softly when you look into his beautiful face. His brown hair is tied back, and he holds the tiny hand of his daughter. She is smiling at you as well as her daddy, both admiring you in your dress. Bucky in another way as the girl, but they both can’t get their eyes off of you. Bucky clears his throat and takes a step to the side, letting you walk out of the room.

“You look beautiful, doll.”

You blush, scratching the back of your neck.

“Daddy said we gonna go to my favorite restaurant,” she tells you with a proud smile.

You’re still not pretty sure what to say or how to act since your boss has invited you to go out with him. So you smile nicely and walk with him and Mia to the cars in the garage.

Bucky is a gentleman, opening the door for you, making sure you’re comfortable, but always taking care of his daughter too.

When you arrive at the restaurant, he takes your hand in his, stroking his thumb over the back of your hand. He makes sure you’re comfortable; otherwise, he would immediately let go of your hand. But there is not even a hint of discomfort on your face, just a small smile on your lips. Together with you and Mia, he walks to the entrance, letting the two of you walk into it before he follows you.

“Good evening,” the waiter says, his muscles tensing when he sees Bucky.

“Good evening, a table for three by the name of Barnes.”

The man in front of Bucky nods and shows you the table. You’re helping Mia out of her jacket and talking to her while you walk through the restaurant. The eyes of the people widen when they see James walking with his daughter and a woman through the room. He smirks when he offers you a seat, takes your and Mia���s jackets out of your hands, and sits across from you, smiling widely with his steel blue eyes piercing into yours. His tattoo-covered arms rest with the sleeves slightly up and his arms on the table, and he just admires you while you look between Mia and him with a small smile.

“Good evening. Have you already decided what you like to eat?” a woman asks, her smile shy, and her eyes dart from Bucky to you and back to the muscular man.

“As always, for my daughter and for me,” he says, then turns his face to you and smiles softly. “And you, doll?”

A shiver rushes through your body, and butterflies go crazy in your belly when he calls you by that nickname in front of other people. Then you look at the waitress and order your food as well. She just nods, takes the menus, and walks back to the kitchen.

“Y/N?” Mia asks, her hand touching yours.

“Yes?”

“Do you like daddy?”

You almost choke on your own saliva when she asks that. Of course you do; who doesn’t? He is a gentle and soft man; he is beautiful, muscular, and makes you laugh. You feel safe with him, not just because there are always some of his men around, but just because of him. On the other hand, he doesn’t act in a soft way with others like you always thought, which makes the feelings you have for him stronger. Bucky doesn’t say anything to the question; he just smirks and waits for you to answer, wanting to know what you think about him.

“I-I- He is nice, but he is my boss,” you mumble.

“But you like him?”

“Yes, but I like you too, Mia.”

“So do you want to be my new mommy?”

This question caught you off guard, and your jaw drops immediately. Bucky chuckles are low and rough, causing your skin to tingle. He makes you feel things you never thought you would feel, especially not for him. The most fearful man in town, a mobster. But also your boss, a wonderful and sweet man and daddy of a beautiful and cute daughter.

“Say yes, and I’m gonna make you mine tonight,” he says.

Your breath hitches, your body shakes softly in anticipation, and you nod. Do you want it? Want to be his? Of course, you definitely want to be his.

“Y-yes.”

Mia smirks, ready to throw herself around your neck, but the food arrives at your table and she learned manners from her daddy, so she just squirms a bit in her seat but starts eating and smirks the whole time at you. Your cheeks are red, and you fix the plate with food in front of you instead of facing Bucky. What if he just wanted to know what you feel for him, but he just wants to play with you? But he is just so soft with you and not with any other woman around him.

“Doll?” his rough voice interrupts your thoughts, and you look at him. “Please let me make you mine. I know the way you look at me, and you’re the only woman I want to have. I have loved you since we first met.”

“O-Oke. B-But I can’t work for you then. H-How can I pay for my things?”

“You don’t have to pay anything. Don’t forget who you’re talking to; you will get everything you need, and you just need to ask me,” he tells you with the softest smile you have ever seen.

When you nod again, his eyes light up, and he can’t help but get up to walk around the table. He gets on his knees next to you, capturing your cheeks with his big hands before he leans closer and presses his soft, plumb lips on yours. Kissing you in a way no one has ever kissed you before, so filled with love and passion. When you kiss him back, he smirks, pulling you even closer, and your hands grip his shoulder, your fingers sliding along his neck. Mia cheers quietly, giggling and looking at the two of you in awe while he bits into her nugget. You blush when Bucky leans back, his thumb stroking your lips, and his blue eyes say more than words could ever say.

“I love you, doll. My precious doll.”

“I-I love you, too.”

“Andddddd I love you. And my nuggies,” Mia says, holding her nugget up to show it.

“Yeah. We love you too, little girl,” Bucky laughs and kisses you again, then he gets up and takes his seat again to finish eating.

Your cheeks are still red, especially when you recognize that everyone in the restaurant was looking at the two of you. But when you look at Bucky, every fear fades away, and you feel just loved by him.

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨

𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬

┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛

Taglist: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @lives-in-midgard @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry

[swivi]

Kinich with a pregnant s/o

After hearing the news he as quite shocked yet happy at the same time..to put it simple. He was feeling alot of mix emotions but still went along to support his girlfriend in the best way possible.

● For the first few weeks he kind of over prepared. Needed a drink? He got it for you in less than a second. A hug? He's right here. Commissions? What's that?

● Tried his best to come home early so he could take care of his S/O and spend time with her.

● Was confused about the moodswings at times but soon learnt about it and didn't mind much.

● The type to read books and research on how to take care of a pregnant woman, make them happy..etc

● Wouldn't care much about the gender and would still treat them with love and affection.

● Ajaw was not happy about this and went on a 10 hour rant about it just to get put in time out in less than 5 minutes.

● Would make sure to be there with you through every step of the pregnancy.

●Would try and cook all your pregnancy cravings and even try them with you if needed.

● Might stress about your diet a little and try to make you eat healthy as much as a he can.

You had started to feel sick over the past weeks, first you thought you may have caught a cold, but as the symptoms became more clearer. You started connecting the dots and was starting to become slightly worried. After being in denial for almost a week, you finally decided to take an pregnancy test and..as you feared. It turned out positive. You were scared and nervous to stay the least. Panicking and one second away from a mental break down until you heard the front door open.

Kinich had just gotten home from a commission and was now looking for you in slight worry. You hadn't come and welcome him back as usual which was confusing to him. Ajaw as usual took it as a chance to mock him as his voice filled the living room.

"Hah...maybe they finally got tired of you and ran away..no wonder.," Ajaw mocked him. His pixilated form flying around Kinich tauntingly as Kinich scoffed. Swatting at Ajaw as he ignored him, focusing on trying to find you. After a few minutes of searching. He finally stopped infront of the bathroom. Seeing it was locked, he gave a few knocks it and heard shuffling. After a few minutes, the door unlocked with you exiting. He could clearly see how nervous you looked and your eyes seemed to be quite puffy too. Were you crying? He couldn't help but be worried. As he went to ask, Ajaw of course say the pregnancy test in the bathroom and didn't even bother hiding his annoyance.

"Are you kidding me right now? Why are they multiplying now!? The almighty k'uhul Ajaw will not stand for this!" Ajaw yelled, only to get ignored as Kinich glanced over seeing the test behind you on the bathroom counter. The room went silent for a few seconds before he sighed and you couldn't help but feel nervous. "Is this yours?" Ajaw but in again refusing to be ignored as he voiced hsi frustration. "You have the nerve to ignore me you pests!? Look at me this instant. I will not st-" and just like that when was now in time out. After a few minutes of awkward silence. Kinich couldn't help but sigh, quietly pulling you into a hug as he rubbed small circles into your back. His voice calm as usual yet holding a slight edge to it. "I'm not angry..just surprised. Let's get you to sit down okay? You look pale."

After a few minutes of exchanging words, you had now finally calmed down and Kinich had made sure to reassure you the entire time. His voice calm yet holding a comforting tone to it.

Extra~

A few months had passed and you were now 4 months pregnant. Your close friends, family and the tribe had given you their support which calmed your nerves, but there had been something bothering you for sometime. You had a weird craving for Mint meat pie. It was weird but you just wanted to try it.

After finally having the kitchen to yourself, you got to work almost instantly. Making the dish you and your unborn child had been wanting, and it tasted quite nice. As you were in the middle of enjoying your meal, the front door open. Signally your boyfriend was now home, you could hear Ajaws voice fill the house thay was once quiet a few seconds smago as they headed your way.

As the two entered, Kinich seemed to notice the Plate of food in your hand and he didn't know if he should be intrigued, confused or disgusted in a way..but he didn't judge you. Ajaw tho, his body practically turned blue and green as he yelled. "What the flying hell is that!? I think I'm gonna be sick..The almighty k'uhul Ajaw commands that you remove it at once. REMOVE I-" He was now in time out again, as kincih walked over with a small sigh.

"Ignore him..is that a new dish you've been craving? I wouldn't mind trying it if you allow me to?"

And just like that, the house was now filled with the voices of the two couples talking about their day as Kinich tried the dish...it wasn't bad he had told you. But anyone would be able to see the way, he forcefully swallowed the spoonful of jelly like meat..anything to make you happy I guess..

[skipper19]

Imagine this...

Satoru has seen the stories you read, the smut you hum about. The fantasies that make your thighs clench and the fluffy words that make you squeal and kick your feet. He reads it with you sometimes, actually. He enjoys learning of your interests. At times, however, he finds himself judging these stories and small drabbles people have written.

And how in the world do you read some of this stuff?

Why is this guy stalking this girl? Why does she like it? Or.. this guy has animal tendencies? Uh.. what? He growls and stuff. Does that mean he poops outside and has a dog bed? Why is that attractive?

Satoru judges these things, but he would never tell you. He doesn't want to offend you or make you insecure about your interests around him. If you like reading about stalkers and borderline creeps, then go ahead! But the one thing Satoru has noticed with these writings is the descriptions used to describe the females.

The male is always dark and broody, cocky and flirtatious. Becoming protective in the most unrealistic (in Satorus opinion) ways. The female protagonist is always skinny with "curves in all the right places." With her "thick hair" and "manicured nails" that any male would swoon over. But.. Satoru hates it.

He hates that you read these types of stories.

He wonders if you ever imagine yourself in those women's shoes, all dolled up and spotless. Not a hair out of place. But Satoru loves the disheveled hair in the morning. He loves to see the eye bags beneath your eyes that take a few minutes of waking up to get rid of. He loves the domestic life he's found with you.

You aren't a sorcerer like him, but you can see curses. You just never enjoyed the thrill of death every day, which Satoru can almost understand. If he didn't have so many responsibilities laid on his shoulders, he may enjoy his job more.

But standing in the face of death every day definitely didn't take the weight of responsibility off of his shoulders.

He loved coming home to you, though. You weren't the best cook. Your mother never took the time to teach you. But you try to cook every now and then. On the days that you do try, Satoru loves coming home to an unorganized house with the smell of food wafting in the kitchen. You don't greet him with a kiss at the door or a hug. You glance at him over your shoulder before smirking. "What pit of hell did you crawl out of?" You would say with a sly smile. Or something snarky as such.

This is the you he fell in love with. Why the hell would he want some young, petite, naive girl with long hair to her ass and nails that could cut a tree in half? This isn't saying you aren't allowed to have these qualities, but Satoru just doesn't have a specific taste for the description of little girls. He loves the woman he's fallen in love with, and he wouldn't want anyone else.

Do you want your nails done? Or do you want a new outfit from the mall? That's fine! Indulge yourself, Satoru's money is your money, and he does love when you're happy. There's just one thing he can't get out of his head.

Do you really see yourself in these women?

Satoru knows you better than anyone! He can read you like a book. Whether this is because of his six eyes or just because he knows you, it doesn't matter. He prides himself on it. Your favorite food, your favorite color, your icks and ticks, he knows it all! That applies to these books and stories you read. He knows the traits and things you would and wouldn't like.

Recently, you haven't been feeling too confident in yourself and your weight, which he's been supporting you through. So he knows you would hate sex in a mirror. He knows you wouldn't want the lights on as he hits it from the back. He knows you would hate wall sex or full Nelson. Satoru understands because he's had his own days when he's just not feeling himself. And you have been there for him as well, just like he's there for you.

He hates when you read these stories that are just so.. unnecessary. So inhuman. Satoru has his own fantasies that he would like to live out with you, but none of them involve crazy things. Like roleplay or mirror sex? He would rather just make love to you in a comfortable position after a long day of work.

Ugh.. the mirror sex.

It's been bothering him for days, he cant get it out of his head. He may have accidentally caught a glance at a small story you were reading through. Something about the male character having sex with the female character after she revealed she was insecure over her chubby tummy. Satoru can't get it out of his head. Wouldn't that just make you more insecure?

He knows you! He knows that you would hate it. It would be uncomfortable and unfamiliar. In those sorts of scenarios, you would want comfort and reassurance. Not rough sex in front of your bedroom mirror.

With these thoughts plaguing his mind, Satoru had no other option but to go to you about it. And no, he wasn't going to just ask you what you preferred because that's idiotic. Obviously. He set up a strategy instead.

On Monday, after a long day at work, you came home to a dim house. You set down your stuff on the counter as you entered the abode. You stopped yourself from calling out Satorus name, just in case. You quietly approach your bedroom (the only room with lights on) and open the bedroom door.

Your eyes widen in shock at the sight of candles on the nightstand, and rose pedals scattered across your bedroom floor. The lights weren't dim, per se, but your eyes definitely did have to adjust, and it didn't take long before you noticed Satorus snow white hair in the corner of the room. You gasped when you put your full attention on him. Giggles escaped your lips as you took in the robe and slippers he was wearing.

Luckily, he had his blindfold off, so you could see the amusement in his eyes. The crinkles in the corner of his eyes when he smiled always made you smile in return. His pearly whites were contagious, to say the least. In this moment, your own laugh echoed in the bedroom as you took in the unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, sight before you.

Satoru stood from the armchair in the corner of the room and strode up to your position at the doorway. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against his chest. Ah, he was only wearing the robe.

"I feel like I should feel insulted that you're laughing at my hard work." He says in a questioning tone, but of course, with the smile on his lips, you knew he was joking. You shook your head and put your hands on his shoulders so you can lean back and take a proper look at his face. "I don't mean to laugh, I just.. well, this is new?" You say, voice filled with humor, your eyes glancing at the romantic set up in front of you. "I wanted to try something new. Is that a crime?" He mumbled softly, leaning down to kiss your temple.

A hum escaped your lips as your eyes fluttered closed. "No, definitely not a crime, just unexpected. I never took you as the.. cliché type." You poked fun. Your teasing words didn't go far. You were keening into Satorus chest as he pressed soft kisses down the side of your face. It only took seconds for him to have you melting into his arms. It's always been a talent of his, to make you relax and forget about everything but him. And damn did you love it every time.

Satoru pressed a wet kiss to the junction of your throat and collarbone, smirking when a chill runs up your spine. Your hands find purchase in his hair, keeping him pressed up against you. But it wasn't enough. His lips explored the exposed skin of your neck, and his hands made quick work of pulling your shirt over your head.

You forgot if you were wearing any jewelry to take off in the moment, but it didn't even matter. Satoru had your back against the soft bedsheets mere seconds before attacking your skin with his plush lips. It's a crime how sensitive you already were, and he hadn't even started yet. Satorus large hands gently caress up your sides before sliding his fingertips under the straps of your bra and pulling. He was hoping it would just snap off. Make it easy.

Of course, it wasn't cooperating at the moment.

Satoru held back a groan as he pulled away from your soft skin so he could properly manage to unhook your bra. You couldn't help the soft laugh that left your mouth as you eyed his pout. It was so childish, so human, so Satoru. "You are so dramatic, honey." Your sugary voice spoke up. He could listen to that soft voice, call him any name or every name, and he would never get tired of hearing it.

Especially when you let out a sound like that.. Satoru forgets how sensitive your nipples are every time. The bra makes a soft noise when it falls to the ground off to the side, but your brain is too preoccupied by the way Satorus tongue circles your hardened bud. It was bittersweet how fast your brain grew fuzzy.

Your hands found perch in Satorus hair, raking through the soft locks. No doubt he still uses your shampoo, even after you told him off. You subtly comb your nails through his undercut, the sensation causing Satoru to bite a little harder into your plump flesh.

You spread your legs a little wider as he settles between your thighs. There was a glint in Satorus crystal blue eyes as he looked up at you. "I don't think I can take it slow tonight, pretty." There was an undercurrent of something in his voice, almost a warning. You could only wonder what he had planned. Obviously, there had to be something. He went through all of this trouble to make the bedroom romantic, and he never did such a thing unless there's a special occasion going on that day. You could only wonder.

-------------------------------------------------♤

You didn't have to wonder for long, however. Soon enough, Satoru had you bouncing on his cock in front of your bedroom mirror. The embarrassment you felt in this moment overrides the pleasure surging in your gut. All you could think about was the fat on your tummy and the way you actually jiggled when you bounced. You couldn't tell if the blush in your face was from embarrassment or pleasure anymore.

Satoru, despite himself, found extreme pleasure in this. He enjoyed this more than he thought he would. But this wasn't for him. This was simply to test if he was right.

"Toru, ugh~" Your soft voice whined, reaching back to grip his pale thighs. Satoru breathlessley chuckled as he nodded, nuzzling his face into your sweat covered neck. "I know, baby, too much, hm?" He mumbled. The way your eyes cast to the side, the way your stomach clenched and you leaned into his back, it was all he needed to see.

Satoru was right.

In a matter of seconds, the white headed male had your back pressed against the bedsheets. Your head comfortably laid on his pillow. The scent of his cologne and natural body odor wafted your senses, and your eyes heavily blinked, lidding as you looked up at him. His cock was still pressed deeply into your womb, tickling your g-spot, but he was unmoving. Your nails dug into his shoulders as a tearful pout made way onto your face.

Satoru rubbed his hand down the side of your head and rested it on your jaw. He tilted your chin up so he could lay soft pecks on your kiss bitten lips. "You don't like seeing me fuck you in the mirror?" He questioned, already knowing the answer. You shyly shook your head, and your lower lip trembled. Satoru knew you wouldn't. He just knew you too damn well. Fuck those books and the stupid stories on the internet.

"You're my girl. You're mine. I know your body, I know your mind -" a choked moan interrupted his speech as he began to move his hips again. Slow thrusts. "You're not like the girls in those stories you read about. God- hah," His forehead pressed into yours. "Fuck no you're not. You're you, you like what you like. And I know what you like, I know exactly how to make my baby feel good."

His words didn't help the slick from pooling beneath your ass onto the sheets. You grinded your hips up to meet his thrusts. Your hazy mind didn't register exactly what he was talking about anymore, his rambling going on as his pace picked up rigorously. "Damn, fuuck, it's so frustrating that you don't see how perfect you are. How beautiful you are." Wet slaps of skin filled the room, moans only background noise.

Satorus hand cupped your face, squishing your cheeks to make your lips pucker. He couldn't stop himself from snickering, heavily panting as he nipped and kissed on your pouted features. "Shi-it," He panted, a whiny laugh drawing out his words.

"Baby, don't you know how soft my dick would be for other women? God, just the thought of you makes me feral." Satoru was always one for dirty talk, but this was some next level stuff. He was mumbling incoherently at this point. But his pace never once faltered, no, not until he nearly reached his peak. But Satoru couldn't let himself cum before you.

Rapid fingers circled your clit, pinching and pulling on the sensitive bundle of nerves as well. Your back arched into his panting chest, and you finally came. Your moans drowned out his thoughts, and he kept himself as quiet as he could so he would be able to hear every little whine or moan that left you. Your thighs trembled, your nails dug deep into the expance of Satorus shoulders, and your hips bucked against his from being overstimulated.

And your own high is all Satoru needed to reach his.

Creamy ropes of cum shot into your womb, and it seemed endless. Ragged breaths left your mouth as you clung to Satoru in the moment. Eventually, his hips stilled and his cock simply stay nestled deep inside of you. You were sure that if Satoru pulled out right now, his seed would flow out of you like a river.

Satoru smirked as he leaned back slightly, ignoring the way your sweaty chests stick together uncomfortably. "Yeah.. that's right. I know you.. I know exactly who you are and how to take care of you." He mumbled, gently guiding his fingers through your tangled hair.

His free hand traveled to your tummy, and the tips of his fingers traced your stretch marks gently. An embarrassed whine left your exhausted being, and Satoru smiled as you hid your face into his neck. "I know, sweet thing, I know."

Satoru was right. You didn't need fancy sex in a mirror to feel better. You just needed his comfort and touch.

You just needed your Satoru.

[sodaabaa]

powdered sugar kisses 

anthony bridgerton x wife!reader anthony searches aubrey hall for his wife, only to find her where he least expected a viscountess to be.

tw: slightly nsfw, mostly fluff.

“Excuse me, would you happen to know where my wife might be?” Anthony asked a nearby maid. He’d searched nearly the entire house – quite a feat given the sheer size of his family’s estate – and he was beginning to worry when his wife was nowhere to be found. Most often when Anthony came home from whatever viscount duties required his attention that day, his wife could be found perched on a window sill with her nose in a book or tending to the garden. Today, she was not found reading nor gardening – and she wasn’t in their bedroom or any of the living areas either. The maid looked at Anthony, hesitant to answer his question. He raised an expectant brow, waiting for an answer.

“She’s in the kitchen, my lord,” she confessed.

The kitchen? What on earth could she be doing in the kitchen?

Anthony made his way downstairs to the kitchen, wondering what she could possibly be doing. He was met with the sight of his beloved wife wearing a flour-coated apron, bent over a tray of cookies. Her hair was tied up to keep it out of her face but despite the hastily done updo, stray hairs framed her face. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she held a bag of icing, piping intricate designs onto the cookies – or at least attempting to. “Was the cook indisposed?” He finally said, breaking the silence.

His wife jumped, startled at his sudden appearance.

“Anthony! When did you arrive?” She asked, a smile forming on her face. He looked her up and down, denoting his surprise at finding her in such an unusual position. 

"Just a moment ago -- what are you doing?" He asked.

“Oh! I felt rather restless this afternoon without you, so I thought perhaps I try my hand at baking. I made biscuits!” She explained, dusting her hands on her apron before removing it. She picked up one of the sweets, excitedly bringing it over to show Anthony. He watched her dazedly as she walked over, mesmerized by her beauty, even in her current state of disarray. 

"Yes, I gathered as much, you are aware you are a viscountess, correct?"

She rolled her eyes, brushing off his question.

“I’m not quite good at designing them just yet – but they taste fantastic!” She said, taking a bite out of the sugary biscuit and then offering it to Anthony. He took a bite as she held it up for him. “They taste lovely, much like the chef,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.

Nothing could taste sweeter than the woman before him. Though, perhaps that was the light dusting of powdered sugar on her lips from the cookie. He brought his lips to her sugared ones, letting the sweet dust melt away between them. She giggled into the kiss and Anthony had to restrain himself from taking her right here and now. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer to him to deepen the kiss.

“Anthony!” She squealed.

He pulled away, “Why would one ever need such confections with a wife such as you?” He smiled at her fondly, he hated being away from her for long stretches of the day.

She blushed, narrowing her eyes at him 

��Feeling bashful, are we?” He peppered kisses along her cheek, making a path towards her ear. She tried to swat him away but he only held her closer, pressing her chest to his. His breath tickled her ear, eliciting another giggle to Anthony’s pleasure. 

“What if someone comes in, Anthony!” She said in a hushed voice, trying to keep her composure. 

“Let them,” he found her lips again. She moaned into the kiss, breaking all of Anthony’s last remaining bits of resolve. 

He hoisted her up on the kitchen counter, breaking their kiss to remove the rather inconvenient layers of clothing he wore. His wife looked up at him in shock though her chest rose and fell rapidly in anticipation. His hands found his wife’s waist once more, pulling her close and returning his lips to hers. Her hands came up to his chest, untying the laces at the front of his shirt, just as eager as he was to rid themselves of the pesky boundary. His lips trailed down her neck, hands reaching up to pull her neckline down. He made a path from her neck down to her chest and then her stomach, lifting her skirt as he made his way down. He kneeled before her, looking up at her as he found her inner thigh. She gasped, causing Anthony to smirk at her sensitivity. She was supple and soft and sweet as he placed rough kisses on her thighs, leaving a burning path behind as he inched closer to what he truly wanted to taste. 

“Anthony, please,” she begged. 

“Patience, dear wife,” he whispered. She groaned, her hands snaking up his neck, running through his hair. She tried to push him closer, but before she could, he grabbed each of her hands in his and held them against the counter. She whined and wiggled, upset at his restraint. He only laughed at her impatience, the sudden vibrations causing her to shudder. He would satisfy her eventually but Anthony had always been one to savor his desserts rather than indulge himself all at once.

[petermorwood]

Is "Uh, nope" a frequent US response to lamb?

Or is US lamb somehow different?

This is just a vaguely mystified response to some comments here.

I'm guessing the "G-word" is gamey. I've smelt gamey meat, I don't like it, and Irish lamb definitely isn't that. Also, most people I know don't need to screw up their courage before cooking or eating it.

Mutton, mature sheep-meat, has - or so I've been told, because I've never found it in any local butcher - a much fuller flavour, still not gamey, but more ... robust, pronounced, emphatic, choose your descriptor. It is, after all, a more mature meat.

For terminology reference (though this may not be current any more), "lamb" is up to one year old, "hogget" - remember the farmer's name in "Babe"? - is up to two years old, and "mutton" is over two years.

*****

As I said, I haven't seen mutton anywhere, and haven't HEARD of hogget.

This might be, as I hinted, because terminology has been simplified and all meat from sheep is now "lamb" - and that may answer my own question. Sometimes US lamb has a fuller flavour than, say, Wicklow lamb in Ireland, because sometimes US lamb is hogget or mutton instead.

If so, it restores a possible original meaning to "mutton dressed as lamb". That's now best known as "an older woman dressed inappropriately young", and though the meaning has been around for a long time (this Rowlandson print is dated 1810)...

..."dressing" is also the term for preparing meat for sale.

And THAT makes me wonder if the critical phrase goes beyond fashion into the fine old tradition of adulterating food, and wily butchers transforming elderly sheep into the semblance of younger lamb then charging undiscerning customers accordingly.

I don't know how they might have done it, but if they could then they would. The ways in which 18th-19th century foods were fiddled with is amazing, and more than a bit Yuck.

Or in this case, Ew.

Comments, corrections, criticisms and all the rest are cordially invited.

:->

*****

Side-note; in keeping with the way nicknames get attached to surnames - "Chalky" White, "Dusty" Miller etc. - anyone called Curry usually ended up as "Mutton".

Two brothers at my school had this happen; Tom Curry, the older one, had been "Mutton" for a couple of years, and when his kid brother Will started school he became, of course, "Lamb".

Oh, how we laffed...

*****

ETA: @bellyoftheblast just messaged me this:

It turns out, and I only learned this very recently (I think it's in Hannah Glasse) that "dressed" used to mean "cooked" rather than "prepared for sale". Which would mean "mutton dressed as lamb" would be fast-cooked and thus greasy, unpleasantly tough and decidedly stringy. (Meanwhile I'll never waste good lamb on stew again now that I have a source for mutton -- MUCH better flavour for slow cooking).

Thanks for this snippet! We've got the Prospect Books facsimile of Hannah Glasse 1st ed, so I pulled it down, blew off the dust - it's been a while - and yes indeed, I found the following recipes in just four successive pages:

"To dreſs a Leg of Mutton à la Royale",

"To dreſs a Leg of Mutton to eat like Veniſon",

"To dreſs Mutton the Turkiſh Way"

"To dreſs Veal à la Bourgoiſe"

Mutton dressed (or dreſsed) as Lamb doesn't get mentioned, probably because Mistress Glasse knew better, though that business of Mutton to eat (taste) like Venison is interesting.

It involves cutting the leg of mutton "in the shape of a Haunch of Veniſon" then steeping it in the sheep's blood "for five or six Hours" before wrapping it in layers of buttered paper and roasting it, basted frequently with butter or beef dripping.

Not quite mutton as lamb, but still mutton disguised as something more expensive...

[babystarbun]

Older stepbro Jungkook that makes a move on you because he sees his little bro Heeseung eyeing you

warnings. stepcest, heeseung(enhypen) mentioned, under the table fondling, blood mentioned

————

Jungkook has to laugh.

His little brother can’t be serious. It’s only been a month since you moved in and he’s already making moves on you? He really learned from the best.

Rubbing over his lip piercing, he hides a smile behind his hands. His father’s been bugging him for weeks now to come over for dinner and formally meet his new wife. They only spoke shortly once before, small introductions after they eloped and honeymooned. Which obviously left his horn dog little brother with enough time to persuade you. How your mother has completely ignored the mischievous stares between you two and the way Heeseung’s arm has been stretched out under the table all of dinner has Jungkook gritting his teeth. Wondering if you’re equally as stupid as her. He purposely drops his fork to give himself an excuse to crouch down and peak under the table.

It’s a little dark and hard to see, but the shine from Heeseung’s bracelet hanging on his wrist is enough to confirm his suspicions. Nestled between your soft parted thighs is his little brother’s hand, jerking up and down with his fingers lodged deep inside of your cunt. Jungkook has to cough to hide his laugh, sitting back up and raising the fork up victoriously. He rubs his stomach and lets out a pleased sound. “I should have come over for dinner sooner. This mac n cheese, so thick and creamy.”

“Oh, your step-sister made that.” His father informs, motioning your direction across the dinner table.

Jungkook’s eyes light up, eyebrows raised as he finds your wide stare. Noting the sweat forming above your eyebrow and your overall flushed appearance. “No wonder.” Taking another bite, he slowly drags the fork between his lips. Letting out a soft moan and winking at you. “You’ll have to let me know the recipe. I love cooking.”

“Pft.” Heeseung grumbles. Followed by a wet sound of skin meeting skin and you jumping in your seat. Eyes fluttering shut as you try to control your breathing. “Shouldn’t you head home soon? Don’t want to hit traffic. I know that drive to the other side of town can be a lot.” He says snarkily, glaring at his sibling.

“Aww, has my little brother finally learned empathy? You never cared when dad forced me to drive you to that gaming center over an hour away.” Jungkook sneers right back at him. The two still for a moment to dissect each other.

Heeseung’s what? 23 years old now? Feels like just yesterday Jungkook was moving out at 21 to pursue boxing, despite his father’s resentment toward his decision. His little brother hadn’t even finished high school yet, still baby faced and lacking confidence.

Now look at him. He’s grown so much, pierced up both of his ears and eyebrow. The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree, next thing you know this little shits gonna book a tattoo appointment.

“Don’t be ridiculous son, your brother’s spending the night.” Their father interjects, firmly clasping Jungkook’s shoulder. “You know your old bedroom is the guest room now. Your mom spent all of yesterday cleaning and doing laundry to tidy it up for you.”

Jungkook’s mouth twitches, tucking his lips in to stop the grimace that threatens to show. Sliding his father’s hand off, he nods. “Thank you, you really didn’t have to.” Mom. Sick. As if he’d ever call some woman he’s met less than a handful of times his mother.

Heeseung continues to whisper under his breath, folding his arms over his chest clearly annoyed. 

“Son,” motioning to Heeseung to sit up and stop slouching, he snaps his fingers. “I need your help to get Jungkook’s old tv out of the storage closet and take it upstairs.”

“What?! Why can’t he do that??” 

“He’s a guest, and you still live under my roof free of charge.” He says with another snap of his fingers. “Now get your ass up.”

Heeseung’s chair scrapes against the floor, pushing himself back with extra force to make his annoyance known. He shoots his older brother another dirty look and follows after their father to head outside. 

“Don’t worry mom, I’ll clean up everything.” Your sweet soft spoken voice tickles Jungkook's ear. Raising his pierced eyebrow to look at you, he grabs your wrist before you can pick up his plate. 

“Let me help you.”

“Oh,” you stutter, biting back a smile. “It’s okay really, I can handle a few dishes.”

“Sweetie, let your brother help.” Your mom says chipperly, sighing and smiling. “It’s so nice to have siblings finally, right? My poor babies been an only child for so long. Had to learn to be independent at such a young age.”

Firmly nodding your head at her, you stack together a few more plates and turn around heading to the kitchen. Jungkook follows after you, taking his sweet time with each step to really admire what his brother’s been playing with. 

Each stride fans your skirt away from the backs of your upper thigh, drawing his eyes lower, tracing down to your calves and ankles. They look great and would look even better wrapped around his head while you writhe and whimper. “So, how are you liking it here?” He decides to ease your anxiety. Scooting into place next to you by the sink. “Heard you had to make a bit of a move, switch schools.”

“Uhm, it’s..” keeping your chin tucked, you nod and begin to clean off the leftover food. “It’s been okay, Heeseung’s been really helping me to accommodate.” Without looking at him, you hold out a hand for the next plate.

“Oh, I’ll bet.” He quietly laughs, pressing his side against yours. “I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for him either.”

“Mm..” you hum. Keeping yourself distracted with the remaining dishes. 

“You’re so his type.” Jungkook whispers, leaning in closer to your ear. “I’m sure it’s driving him crazy to keep his hands off of you.”

The plate in your hold slips, startling both of you. Immediately apologizing, you attempt to move away and dry off. Stopped by a large tattooed hand gripping onto your arm, he tugs you back to his firm broad chest. Circling his free arm around your waist to lift your hands up. “You cut yourself.” He sighs, breath brushing against your ear. “Poor thing, you’re so jittery around me. Am I making you nervous?”

“N-no..”

After all, how could you be nervous? Not after so shamelessly getting fingered during dinner by your step-brother. “Good, because,” clutching your waist, he moves you around and lifts you up to sit onto the kitchen counter. Biceps flexing and hoisting you up with ease, not even making a sound of exertion. “I’m your big brother now, and I want to take care of you.” He smirks, flicking your chin. “Starting with this boo boo.” 

Calloused palms press against your knees, gently prying your thighs open to make space for himself. He slowly tickles over the tops of your legs to the hem of your skirt, leaving one hand on your hip as he grabs onto your wrist and lifts your cut finger to his mouth. “Looks painful.”

“N-nothing I can’t handle..”

Jungkook’s eyes flicker back to yours, tilting his head as he lifts your finger to his lips. “Is that a threat?”

“I—uh, what?”

Pressing your finger to his bottom lip, he drags the cut across his pink pout. Coating his mouth with metallic tasting red. “You might be able to handle my little brother,” sucking your digit between his lips, he laps at your wound. Dragging the pad of your finger against the middle of his tongue with his big doe eyes focused on your shocked gaze. “But that’s nothing.”

“H-how? How did you—“

“Doesn’t matter.” He shushes you, pressing your cleaned off finger to your mouth. Sliding his palm to cup your ass cheek, he drags you closer. Setting your inner thighs against his hips. “Think that you could handle more?”

————

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Better Man

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: fluff, minor angst

Summary: You're a single mom who hates bringing men into your life only to have them leave. Your daughter deserves better than that. You're currently dating Spencer, and you're wondering if it's the right time to bring him into her life. Will it be worth it?

Square Filled: “you want? you want? you want? what about what I want?” for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

I can do this. I’m more than capable of getting breakfast ready for both me and my daughter. Even if she is screaming her head off. Oh, please be quiet. Please make it stop.

“Gemma, please stop crying. I am getting your food.” She continues to cry. “Baby, please. I’m working as hard as I can right now.”

If anyone were to look in your kitchen window, they would see a woman who is just trying to feed her child while looking like a raccoon with messy bedhead hair. The bags under your eyes don’t help your case, either, but you haven’t gotten much sleep this past week. Gemma has been sick and has been keeping you up at all hours of the night.

Sometimes you feel like a shitty mom because it seems like whatever you do isn’t enough. Being a single mom is hard. No one told you how to do this. No one gave you a rule book and said, “Here you go! Study for the final exam!” where the final exam is actually having a kid. You’re doing the best you can do even if it doesn’t feel like it.

Before you can start crying because Gemma is crying, you plate some bananas, cereal, and small strawberries on a plate for her. She immediately stops crying when the food is in front of her, and she digs in. You chuckle tiredly and kiss the top of her head. She is getting so old. It seems like yesterday you birthed her when really, it’s been eight months.

Your phone rings and you light up at seeing Spencer’s name.

“Hey,” you answer.

“Hey. I’m off this weekend if you want to hang out.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to get a sitter,” you sigh. “I’m pretty low on money right now.”

“That’s fine. I don’t mind if you bring her along. I understand if you don’t want to, but I’m really great with kids. I’d love it if she came along.”

You and Spencer have been seeing each other for a few months but he hasn’t met your daughter yet. You don’t want to introduce her to someone new if they’re not going to be in your life for very long. You really like Spencer and you hope he’s going to be in your life for a long time. He’s been very patient when it comes to your daughter, and maybe it’s time they meet.

“Why don’t you come over? I’d feel more comfortable having a date here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I think it’s time you meet Gemma.”

“Okay, yeah! I’ll bring some food over and we can cook together.”

“That’d be amazing,” you smile.

“I gotta go. I’ll see you Friday.”

“Okay. Bye.” You hang up with a huge smile on your face. “You hear that, Gemma? You get to meet Spencer. He’s a sweetheart. You’ll love him.”

She squeals in response but it’s mostly because she wants more bananas. You’re not worried that she will love him, it’s if Spencer will love her. You can’t think about that. You have work to get to. The call center you work at has a daycare attached to it for parents who can’t get someone to watch their kids, so every day is Bring Your Daughter To Work Day.

The weekend comes faster than you expected but that means Spencer gets to come over. He might even spend the night if all goes well. When Spencer comes over, he is nothing but sweet towards Gemma. She is playing in her playpen but as soon as Spencer walks in, she squeals and crawls over to him.

“Spencer, this is Gemma. Baby, this is Spencer.” Spencer grins and picks her up once she gets to him. “I’ve been trying to get her to walk lately. She turns eight months next week.”

“Hi, Gemma. Do you want to walk for Mama? Yeah, I can see it. You’ll get there,” he chuckles.

Spencer brings in the groceries he bought so you two can cook lunch while Gemma plays and watches Spongebob. While you don’t know how to be a single mom, and learning every day to be better, you’d rather do this than be with the ex who knocked you up. He left you when you were pregnant so it’s just been you and Gemma for a long time now. It’s hard to let men in your life, especially with a kid so young, but Spencer has been nothing but a complete gentleman to you. He takes things at your pace, never does anything to make you uncomfortable, and always puts you and Gemma first.

Dinner is spent talking about your week and the plans you have this weekend and afterward, Spencer goes to the living room to play with Gemma some more. He’s really warming up to her. Maybe this is going to be a good thing. Your phone rings and your blood runs cold when you see who is calling you. You excuse yourself and step off to the side while Spencer tosses Gemma in the air a few inches only to catch her. Her laughter makes this night all the better.

“What do you want?” you ask when you answer the phone.

“Hey, you got any money to spot me? I’m in a bit of a pickle,” your ex asks.

“Are you kidding me right now? You call me up after how many months only to ask for money?”

“Can you do it or not?”

“Fuck no,” you hiss on the phone. “This might be in your grand plan, but I want you to actually start acting like a dad and be there for Gemma. You know, the daughter you have?”

“You want? You want? You want? What about what I want?”

“You’re a piece of shit.”

“Fuck this. I can’t believe calling you was ever a good idea.”

He hangs up after those harsh words, and you try your hardest not to cry. He’s fucking lucky you’re not going after him for child support, but maybe you should.

“Y/N! Look!” You look at Spencer and Gemma to see her walking toward him on wobbly legs. “She’s walking!”

“Gemma!” you gasp and rush over. “You’re walking, baby!”

Before she can fall to the ground, Spencer scoops her in his arms and kisses her cheeks. She has no idea what is going on but she loves the attention. Spencer looks like he doesn’t want to be anywhere but here. Seeing him with Gemma today has only made you realize that he’s the only man you ever want in Gemma’s life.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[bonbonly]

Collage au Carlos definitely the type to go after the quiet art student. Doesn’t care how cliche it is, doesn’t care about his football mates teasing him. Doesn’t even care about the hottest girls over at the the social studies building that quite literally spell their interest out for him.

His scholarship already gets him through comfortably, AND he gets to spend his time doing what he loves the most already, playing football. But oh, how can he resist that primal urge of curiosity after he has a taste of the little artist? Not that he goes out of his way to search for her in the campus, but he does seek her presence in the room wherever he goes. He has no business being in the arts building, so he keeps his eyes open everywhere else to get a glimpse of her.

And whenever he does see her, she does everything in her power to avert her eyes and sneak out of the room as soon as possible. However, it PROBABLY doesn’t help that his dearest mother buys the one piece she painted for the annual gallery night hosted by the university. And it probably doesn’t help that his mother likes her in very much, so much so that the poor little artist can’t bring herself to escape the room this time when Carlos rounds the corner to get to his mom with a huge grin on his face.

And just when he thinks it can’t get any better, his mom has invited her over for the holidays when she heard that this poor girl can’t be with her family since they’re going on a trip of their own. “I understand if you want to spend it alone, but if not, I insist!” she says with that glint of hope in her eyes, and how can she resist such a heartfelt offer even though she knows for a fact Carlos will be there also? Well, Sainz mansion is a big one after all, sure she can try to avoid him, but how long can she keep it up?

ANON YOU ATE, YOU COOKED SO HARD WITH THIS if we know anything about artstudent!reader it's that she minds her business. she's there to earn good grades, open art galleries and fulfill all her dreams. she doesn't have time to get a boyfriend or get laid - oh wait. she still thinks about carlos and her in the art closet, and every time she goes there to grab some supplies, her eyes always fixate on the one spot on the shelf where he had her pinned. she'll blush and grab the paintbrushes, scurrying out of the room as fast as she can.

and it doesn't make it any better when some of her friends tell her that carlos is frequenting the art building a lot more. one of her friends wonders what he's doing, and if he switched majors. artstudent!reader gulps, shrugging her shoulders and trying so hard to make it seem like she doesn't care. she may feel a bit excited that someone like him is looking for her, but at the same time she knows its a mess she doesn't want to get into. she makes that known every time she crosses the football field to get back to her dorm. he's staring at her with a wide grin on his face, hands on his hips and sweat covering his body with one foot on the ball. she almost turns to send him a quick glance just to see what his reaction would be but she knows better than to indulge him like that and keeps her head held high, marching off to her dorm. he likes her stubbornness, but he hates seeing her be quiet. he wants her to yell and scream at him, in more ways than one.

oh and can you imagine the art gallery??? spending weeks painting large canvases, sleepless nights and sore arms from just trying to reach the top part of the canvas. and the fact that someone offered to buy the canvas? she's beaming, she's envisioning her future as a world renowned artist, in front of rich galas and having her name be in future history books about the art she contributed to the world. and then her dreams vanish into thin air when she realizes that it's carlos's mother standing in front of her having bought her painting. she's so in shock that she hardly recognizes carlos behind the older woman, and when artstudent!reader finally glances over the woman's shoulder, she wants to scratch his eyes out at the way he's grinning, his eyes twinkling at the sight of her.

"mama, she's very good, you know?" carlos comments, and artstudent!reader forces a smile, awkwardly looking between the two. "i can tell, mi hijo, that's why i bought her painting! it'll be nice in our living room, no? with the colors?" mrs. sainz exclaims, unaware of the storm brewing in the poor artist's guts.

"she has many talents, mama, many," carlos smirks, sending reader a wink that nearly has her pass out in front of everyone.

and forget about trying to avoid him in his mansion! seriously, forget about it! carlos follows artstudent!reader around like a lost puppy, convincing his parents that he needed to guide her around the house or else she'll lose her way. no matter how many times she insists she won't get lost, and that she doesn't need a guide, carlos always finds his hand resting on her waist, pushing her to the rest of the house. before dinner even begins, artstudent!reader probably excuses herself to use the bathroom but someone was in the nearest one. which meant she had to go through the other side of the house! how perfect!

and carlos follows her like he always will, quietly pulling her into his large study room which has her painting on the wall. he pushes her onto a lavish couch, spreading her legs wide as he pulls her panties down with his teeth, "lo siento princesa, i guess i'm just too hungry"

his voice is a bit mocking, and as she opens her mouth to argue that this could all go wrong, that his mother might walk in and see the obscenity, his lips are around her cunt and he's feasting like a starved man. juices dribbling down his chin, he shakes his head as he sucks her clit, causing her to fall back into the couch, legs wrapping around his head on instinct. she tugs at his curls, chasing her own orgasm

and her eyes fall onto her painting placed between some family portraits and photos. a symbol of her permanent fate in the sainz family.

[yayakoishii]

Hunger | Sanji x Reader

Sanji x Reader; Fluff...?

No pronouns used but written with a fem reader in mind. Reader is referred to as a woman or lady at times, but nothing else so you can ignore it if you want!

wc: 2.2k

a/n: super super self indulgent, I wrote this in an hour because I was possessed by this sudden overwhelming love for Sanji. honestly, this fic started with a different goal that where it ended but oh well. maybe I'll write another one to fully convey what I started here. this is my first time writing for OP and Sanji so forgive any mistakes and oocness! enjoyyy!!

also available on ao3!

Sanji didn't know what to think of you.

At first, he had treated you like the other ladies on board and expected you to treat him the same way they did. Except you were different. In your actions, in your words, in your whole being– there was a different kind of softness, warmth and intensity.

It started with you just giving him warm smiles and soft thank yous whenever he brought out a new drink or dish for them to enjoy. The way you always maintained eye contact while doing it left him feeling a little stunned for some reason, and it almost always ended up with him fainting from the loss of blood. And then the way you would be worried over it, even though everyone else just ignored it once he was under Chopper's hands.

You stayed there until he was okay enough to go back to the kitchen. It was just a little thing, but it seemed to squeeze his heart in a painful way.

It was fine with just that, until you started tip-toeing around his territory – the kitchen. He could see you peeking through the door at times, wondering if you wanted something to eat or drink but feeling shy when it came to actually calling you out for it. It was weird– he was being weird around you, but it wasn't his fault. There was something about your ease and quiet around him that made his heart jackhammer in his chest like it was trying to beat his entire life's worth.

So he stayed quiet, pretending not to notice, until you stepped in.

And then he couldn't ignore it anymore.

You sat at the table, just giving him a small smile and nothing else. You didn't say a single word and he couldn't stop himself anymore.

"Did you want something, (y/n)-chan?" He asked gently, just in case you were feeling shy to ask for whatever it was you wanted to eat. But you just shook your head at his words, resting your chin on the backrest of the chair.

"Not really, Sanji-kun," you replied, eyes fixated on his hands, now that he finally realised it. You were looking at the food he was cooking. "I just wanted to watch you cook. Is that okay?"

The blonde chef stood there for a few seconds, stunned silent. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't that. Why would you want to watch him cook? That would be a waste of your time! But before he could say as such to you, he was stopped by the earnest look in your eyes.

"I promise I won't disturb you!" You said quietly, eyes gleaming with your eagerness. He couldn't say no after that.

"Of course not, sweetheart," he finally replied, flicking his eyes downward so he doesn't keep staring at you. The face you had on was too innocent and bright, and his heart was doing that painful squeeze thingy again. "You could never disturb me."

Wrong. Your presence was very disturbing. In a good way, of course. In a way that made his insides feel like they are convoluting and rearranging themselves. In a way that made his chest feel tight and warm.

Perhaps he should have regretted saying that to you. Because you took it as a blanket permission to watch him cook everyday. You would walk in at random times after breakfast, sometimes with a book where you wrote while he cooked or empty handed like always.

And then you started talking to him.

Asking him curious little questions about the food he was cooking at first. And he would answer them as simply as he could, not wanting to confuse you. Sometimes, he saw you noting things down and wondered if you're learning to cook. But it didn't seem like that, just you and your weird fascination with watching him cook. That was fine. (That was not fine. It made him self-conscious because suddenly, he was wondering if he looked like a mess when he was cooking, something he had never doubted before.)

Then your questions turned to just telling him about random things that happened outside while he worked, or something you read in a book, or a story from your past. You talked to him like you would to any other person, but somehow, in the confines of the kitchen where he usually worked by his lonesome, it all felt doubly intimate and personal. Like you were whispering secrets straight into his ear, seeping into the crevices of his heart one drop at a time.

Somewhere along the line, he realised that he didn't feel that heart pounding feeling around any of the other women. He calmed down around them a little, and was gifted with Nami's concerned yet puzzled looks and Robin's analytical one. He played it off by avoiding the topic smoothly whenever they asked, but even they weren't blind to when this change had started to happen.

You, on the other hand, were oblivious to it. Like always, you stepped into the kitchen with more questions, this time about him, about his interests, and anything he wanted to talk about.

"...if I could go there," he paused when he realised that he had been going on and on about the All Blue for the past ten minutes while he was fluttering around the kitchen, without even seeing if you were listening. His head whipped up, cheeks red with embarrassment, only to find you looking at him intently with wide interested eyes.

And somehow, the usual squeezing feeling in his heart reversed. Now it felt like someone had cut his chest open and left its contents exposed for you to gently pick up and caress in your soft hands.

"Sorry, I rambled there for a bit," his mouth felt dry suddenly. He paused in his cooking to grab himself a glass of water.

"Why are you apologising?" You said cheerfully, scribbling something into your book as usual. "I asked you about it, Sanji-kun!"

"Still," he laughed nervously, wondering if you secretly thought he talked too much. Women liked it better when the man listened to them, right? "You probably didn't want to hear all of… that."

Your brows furrowed and you looked at him with a frown. "Why not?"

Sanji drew the glass away from his lips at your question, feeling a little lost. Did that mean you wanted to listen to him…?

"Isn't it boring for you?" He tried, readying himself to hear you affirm his statement.

"It's not boring at all," you said, shaking your pen in his direction. "You are obviously interested in it. You're passionate about it, like you're about your food, and I think that's wonderful. Hearing someone talk passionately about what they love can never be boring for me. It's like an open window into their hearts."

Sanji's heart jumped in its place at that line, wondering when was the last time someone had tried to look into his heart. He was always the one chasing after the ladies, ready to give his heart but never finding anyone who wanted it. And now you were here, wanting to know what was in his heart, wanting to know him. But what if he wasn't the only one? What if he was deluding himself into thinking that he was special to you?

"Did you ask the others about their dreams too?" He asked, hoping it came off as casually as he had wanted it to. You leaned back in the chair, nodding with a huge smile, not realising the way his heart sank at that.

"Of course I did," you said proudly, holding the book close to your chest. "Luffy gave me a place on this ship even though I had nothing to offer to the crew, just because I had nowhere else and no one else to go to. So I wanted to do something for him, and for you guys. Sanji-kun, can you keep a secret?"

"Anything for you, my love," he said without missing a beat, willing his feelings to stay beneath the surface as always. He didn't notice the way your cheeks pinked at the term, too distracted by his own thoughts.

"I'm trying to write down and compile all of your adventures till now," you stage whispered. That surprised him, and he looked at you, noticing the ink smudges on your fingers that curled around the book you had in your hands. He had noticed the smudges and marks increase over time, but he hadn't known what you were doing until now. "When Luffy becomes the King of Pirates, I want to share these adventures with the world. I want them to know the real people behind it all, not some made-up tyrannical version the Marines paint you as. I know firsthand just how kind and thoughtful every person on this ship is, and I am trying to record it in my own way."

"That's…" Sanji was speechless again. Somehow, you always managed to reduce him to that state. An unpleasant smell invaded his nostrils and he looked down, noticing that he had taken his eyes off the food for too long.

"The food!" You exclaimed, standing up from the chair and hurrying over, your book forgotten behind.

"Stay back, (y/n)-chan!" Sanji warned, not wanting you to accidentally get hurt from the hot pot. You hovered at a distance, clearly wanting to help but also not wanting to create more trouble by mistake. With deft hands, he cleared up everything, transferring the food to a different pot and taking care of the burnt one. "There we go. No need to worry, sweetheart, go sit down."

"I'm sorry," you mumbled. Sanji looked up, confused at the apology.

"What are you apologising for, (y/n)-chan?" He asked kindly, walking over to you. He stood a foot away, hesitant to touch but wanting to comfort you. How would you take it if he touched you? Would you be uncomfortable and push him away? He didn't want that. He never wanted you to feel uncomfortable or sad. Or like you had done anything wrong, when you clearly hadn't.

"I distracted you," you said guiltily, looking up at him with glossy eyes. "I promised I wouldn't."

"Don't be silly, sweetheart," he couldn't hold himself back. His left hand cupped your cheek, right one bringing his handkerchief out with a flourish to wipe away the tears welling up in your eyes. "It's not your fault. I was thinking too much, and I made a mistake."

You continued to stare up at him as he wiped the last of the tears and let go of your cheeks, hoping he hadn't crossed any boundaries.

"Sanji-kun…" Your voice was broken and he looked at you in concern. Had he done something wrong? Said something wrong? "It's unfair. It's so unfair!"

"What is, my love?" He asked, trying to figure out what you were talking about as your lips quivered. You were glaring down at the floor, clearly upset about something.

"You," you whispered. "You're unfair. Your existence is unfair. How can someone this perfect exist?"

And now, the usual hammering of his chest was replaced by his heart going stockstill, as if it was holding a breath too, at your simple words.

"The more I get to know you, the more I understand what a kind, loving and warm person you are," you rambled on, like a dam that's finally burst open. "I wanted to get to know you, more than anyone else onboard. So I lingered around, encouraged myself to talk to you. And then, every moment I spent with you just made me fall more and more in love with you. The way you fold your shirt up to your elbows, the look of concentration on your face when you're cooking, that soft look in your eyes when you're talking about food, the sheer strength in your legs when you're fighting, the immense love and respect you have for food. Every little thing about you just made me fall in love with you and I told myself to stay away, but you make it so hard to not keep coming back. I keep wanting to know more and more about you; it's like a hunger that is never satisfied no matter how much I feed it."

There was pindrop silence in the kitchen when you paused, realised what you had said and froze. Sanji's unlit cigarette fell from his lips as he stared at you, wondering if this was a wild self-torturous dream his brain had thought up to torment him with; except his brain could never imagine the way you were now flushed from head to toe, hiding your face behind widely spaced fingers. Your wide eyes peeked through the gaps, the look of utter mortification on your face visible to him even with the obstacles.

"I'm so sorr–"

He didn't let you finish. Sanji pulled you into a tight embrace, his long fingers finding purchase in the nape of your neck where your hair was. You gasped at the sudden action, heart hammering in tandem with his, suddenly realising in the close proximity that you were not the only one whose heart rate had spiked.

"I could ask you the same question, sweetheart," he wrenched himself away to stare you straight in the eyes. His hand reached back and up to hold your face again. You didn't miss the broken and vulnerable look in his eyes as he whispered the next few words, in a way like it was meant to be heard only by you.

"How can someone so perfect exist?"