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astonmartinii · 6 months

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a spoonful of sugar | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem chef!reader

cheffing it up all over the calendar

MASTERLIST | TIPS

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 124,509 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: WOAH WHAT IT'S OSCAR'S HOME RACE WEEK? that mean's it's time to whack out the aussie cook book mama piastri got me for christmas and man this fish has a cool name. BARRAMUNDI is a fish very commonly used in aussie cuisine (real ones know it from masterchef australia). so here i've pan seared it with some herbs and some lemons and take it from me it SLAPS, but you know what i hope slaps more? oscar this weekend... LET'S GO BABY

[as always this recipe is on my website and will be in my 2024 f1 calendar recipe book coming out soon]

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user1: FAVES OMG PARENTS

user2: my favourite thing is where i read intently all of y/n's recipe and continue to make pot noodles

yourusername: pot noodles are good i can't even be mad

oscarpiastri: can confirm it did in fact SLAP

yourusername: oh wow piastri stamp of approval that's basically a michelin star

oscarpiastri: tbf i would eat a roll of paper towels if it was you who gave it to me

yourusername: okay.... I'LL TAKE IT

user3: can we please study these people cause why is saying you'd eat paper towels is the pinnacle of romance

user4: i NEED the recipe book STAT

landonorris: i was on board with this whole cooking thing but FISH IS WHERE I DRAW THE LINE

yourusername: oh boy we got a BABY ON THE LINE

landonorris: i'm allowed to like what i like my MUM said so

yourusername: bro is an elite athlete and exclusively eats chicken nuggies

landonorris: @oscarpiastri tell your girlfriend to stop bullying me

oscarpiastri: i'm on her side buddy maybe explore the culinary world

landonorris: that's it i'm going to HR

yourusername: try it girly the mclaren HR team LOVE my food

user5: the dynamics since oscar and y/n got comfortable in the sport are my favourite things

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and 793,288 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: first time on the podium at my home race and the feeling is unreal. so thankful to have my family and love of my life around me, lets keep building on this !!

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user7: THANK THE LORD MCLAREN KEPT THEIR SHIT TOGETHER IN 2024 OSCAR FIRST WIN COMING IN FAST

yourusername: I AM TOTALLY FINE ABOUT THIS AND I AM NOT SOBBING UNCONTROLLABLY BECAUSE I AM SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU AT ALL TIMES I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

oscarpiastri: I LOVE YOU TOO SO MUCH AND I LOVE SHARING THIS WITH YOU AND SEEING THE WORLD WITH YOU AND REACHING OUR DREAMS TOGETHER

user8: are they good?

logansargeant: from the man currently waiting for them to go to dinner and can hear them yelling this stuff to each other... no they are not okay and i don't think they ever have been

yourusername: LOGIE BEAR I AM SORRY I CANNOT CONTAIN MY LOVE FOR OSCAR

oscarpiastri: jealous bitches gonna be bitter

logansargeant: ??? excuse me

oscarpiastri: i'm sorry i got excited... love you logan (just not as much as y/n)

user9: this comment section is once again making me want to sneak into an F1 after party :(

user10: they're just going to dinner they've not even started drinking yet 😭

landonorris: i am proud of you mate - why is y/n dancing around in the kitchen in an apron that says "this chef FUCKS"

yourusername: fashion. (it says oscar piastri in small print right under that)

landonorris: i didn't need to know that

oscarpiastri: let her dance it makes the food taste even better

landonorris: there's definitely no fish right?

yourusername: no fish by order of the fussy child

landonorris: bullying online and in person @maxverstappen1 @charles_leclerc @logansargeant STEP IN

maxverstappen1: eh i'm good i'm looking forward to dinner

charles_leclerc: you're on your own with this one lando

logansargeant: i've learnt not to cross y/n

user11: the piastris invited lando, logan and the rest of the podium? i am soft

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 162,994 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: a big post podium celebration dinner at the piastri house to celebrate oscar's home podium. first off, super duper proud. second, since it was a strictly no fish evening, i decided to go for classic aussie meat pies and grilled kangaroo LOL but there was only clean plates at the end so i'll defo consider adding it to the recipe book

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user12: i am getting a sugar rush this is so sweet

logansargeant: thank you for having me, a solid 9/10 - one point docked because kangaroos are cute

yourusername: wait until you run into one on a cold, wet evening

oscarpiastri: they are actually very scary and have a stealing problem

yourusername: tbf i think we all have a stealing problem

oscarpiastri: you definietly do ... cause you stole my heart

logansargeant: EW NOT ON MY COMMENT THREAD

user13: i'm so lonely

maxverstappen1: i definitely did not think i was going to eat kangaroo this week but here we are

yourusername: did you like it?

maxverstappen1: i was shocked at how much i did

oscarpiastri: babe get that on the review cover of the recipe book this guy got three championships that has to mean something

yourusername: good idea i'm on it

maxverstappen1: ???

landonorris: you fed me kanga and roo from winnie the pooh? Y/N YOU FED ME KANGA AND ROO FROM WINNIE THE POOH?

yourusername: you eat chicken all the time and you don't feel sorry for chicken little

oscarpiastri: she ate you up there PUN INTENDED

landonorris: i've learnt my lesson i'm giving up here

charles_leclerc: i for one had a blast and will be asking for y/n to cater my birthday party

oscarpiastri: FOR A PRICE

charles_leclerc: you her guard dog or something?

oscarpiastri: duh? have you seen her?

yourusername: i would love to (idk monagasque cuisine though so give me notice)

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 152,339 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, logansargeant

yourusername: IMOLA, IMOLA MY HEART LIVES IN ITALIA AND MY STOMACH LIVES WITH ITALIAN FOOD. for real. the track is cute and whatnot but the real star is the pasta, the pizza, the gelato but most importantly the PASTA. here is two dishes that'll feature in the imola chapter: a burrata dish and a ragu !! oscar (and lando) certified so you know it's good, oscar even helped so it's defo beginner friendly!!

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user17: is it a collective f1 driver experience to be ass at cooking

danielricciardo: yes

maxverstappen1: yes

oscarpiastri: yes

landonorris: yes

charles_leclerc: YES

oscarpiastri: if i'm slow this weekend it's because i couldn't stop eating the ragu sorry mclaren

yourusername: i made sure no gelato until sunday so please don't take me out back and shoot me over giving him pasta

mclarenf1: bring some pasta for social media admin and no one has to know

yourusername: deal

landonorris: this is a public instagram comment section

charles_leclerc: why is mine always so darn crunchy

yourusername: inpatient, common amongst you drivers. oscar was once so impatient when boiling an egg he got it out and it was just watery egg

oscarpiastri: you said you wouldn't tell anyone :(

yourusername: no babe i'm proud !!! you've come so far

oscarpiastri: it's true i made my own omelette the other day :)

yourusername: and it was yummy

oscarpiastri: and it was yummy :)

user18: the positive affirmations in this relationship really keep me going

yourusername: he IS the MOST beautiful racer in all of the lands

oscarpiastri: she IS the PRETTIEST chef in all of the kitchens

oscarpiastri

liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 775,431 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: not the race we wanted in spain, but we're still in good spirits and in the conversation at the top of the standings! also helps that when you get taken out of the race your girlfriend shovels the BEST paella ever into your mouth until you finally smile

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user19: bro got a girlfriend and personal chef all in one

yourusername: food is my love language and when babe gets twatted into the barriers by SOMEONE i will personally feed him some of his favourite food

user20: she's holding back

yourusername: PR said i couldn't say anything...

oscarpiastri: i love youuuuuuuuu and i love your paella i think it's laced with crack

logansargeant: @fia GET HIS ASS

yourusername: LOGIE BEAR?

logansargeant: i'm sorry, we're pretty desperate for the p7 here at williams

yourusername: i respect that

oscarpiastri: Y/N????

yourusername: MORE PAELLA

carlossainz55: big respect for the paella, definitely looks authentic

yourusername: OBVIOUSLY IT'S AUTHENTIC DO YOU THINK MY QUALIFICATIONS ARE A JOKE

yourusername: lol sorry thank you actually SPANISH F1 DRIVER APPROVED PAELLA

oscarpiastri: @fernandoalo_oficial can we get another good review please and thank you

fernandoalo_oficial: looks good, need a taste to be sure

yourusername: it's coming your way (please return the tupperware tho please)

mclarenf1: you'll come back stronger oscar 💪

oscarpiastri: fuelled by love and paella

yourusername: fuelled by VENOM AND THE WILL TO WIN AND CRUSH THE COMPETITION

oscarpiastri: and that 🫶

note: here's a short and sweet one that MAY return to finish out this fictional season ... i also just love this kind of set up for an imagine. it's a lil short i know but the CHRISTMAS CRAFTS ARE COMING IN FAST AND THE CROSS STITCH CHRISTMAS CARDS ARE SLAYING THE HOUSE DOWN

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #oscar piastri instagram au #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri

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mactavishsgfandwife · 19 days

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Could you write a few headcannons or short fic about overprotective Simon and pregnant reader and simon refuses to let reader even move a muscle as he takes care of them lovingly it’s so cute 🥹

Overprotective Simon "Ghost" Riley x Pregnant Reader

this is so cute thank you!! 🫶🏻 female reader fluff <3

"No."

Your husband is sitting at the other end of your sofa, rubbing your feet as you lay down, holding them in his lap. He’s also refusing to let you make tea.

"Hush, love, I’ve got it," he grins, patting your head as he stands up. Smug bastard.

"You don’t even like the tea that you make!" you protest.

"’ll only make tea for you then."

It’s nice, it’s so sweet that Si cares about you like this, but it does your head in sometimes. He’s more thorough with the cleaning than you (his military history showing through) but the man is a danger to cuisine. When he cooks with your guidance, he’s fine, but when he’s alone he settles for Heinz sausages and beans on toast, and it’s maddening when he won’t let you pack his lunch for work.

"Here," he sits down at your side and pulls you into his lap. Passing you your tea, he leans his head against your shoulder and covers your growing stomach with his broad hands.

"Thanks, Si," you pout, entertained by how long he was in the kitchen. He always puts extra effort into what he makes for you. It’s what you deserve, looking after him and the baby in your stomach.

"Don’t even worry abou’ it," he smirks, kissing your head, "baby acting up?"

"Nah. Think she’s asleep. She’s a good girl today."

"Lucky girl, with’a mummy like you."

i hope this was okay for you!! :))) tysm for thé support my lovely <3

i’m so sorry for my inactivity recently, i’ve read the requests and they’re all amazing and i’m working through them! but i’m gonna be slow because i don’t wanna stress myself out over it lol

masterlist

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nolita-fairytale · 10 months

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burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter one

summary: leaving your old life behind, you move to copenhagen to follow your dream of opening a restaurant. almost a year after opening, luca's quest for inspiration brings him right to your doorstep.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2500

a/n: remember when i said we'd get pastry chef luca fanfic whether we liked it or not? well, it seems i can't be normal about anything bc i have an outline of (potentially) 10 chapters right now based on this headcanon. while i try to keep reader characters pretty neutral so that you can picture yourself, i have this reader creating food from her own life experiences/cultures so do what you will with that. also, i tagged some peeps from my headcanon post, but please let me know if you'd like to be removed.

masterlist | part two

He’s in search of inspiration when he finds the restaurant – your restaurant.

It’s an American stagiaire and a single conversation that makes him realize that he’s missing something – that he’s been in need of something fresh, a new perspective– setting him on his quest.

The best things are inspired.

Luca stares at a blank piece of paper for what feels like hours, writing a few things down, sketching up an idea, before viciously crossing them out, hopelessly stuck on new ideas for the new menu. After a few half-baked ideas that go nowhere, It occurs to him that he may be in need of a little inspiration himself. He can’t think of the last time he’s taken his own advice, mulling over the carefully-chosen words of wisdom imparted to Marcus a couple of weeks ago, and he’s determined to change that.

A review in the paper, an old colleague’s recent trip there, and a glowing recommendation from a close friend are what bring him to the restaurant.

He’s not sure what to expect – having forgone any interest in cuisine described with the words trendy or fusion a long time ago – but Luca reminds himself that it’s the writer’s word choice, not the chef’s, when writing the article.

When Luca steps into the small home-turned-restaurant, he’s immediately inundated with a warmth, a homeyness, that takes him by surprise. From the open kitchen, to the golden lighting, it feels vastly different from the classic Danish-style, fine dining establishments that have swept the country.

But Luca reminds himself that the announcement of noma’s 2024 closure, has shifted the conversation around dining culture in Denmark, and already, he can feel that this is the breath of fresh air that he’s been looking for.

Luca’s seated quickly with care and hospitality by a highly-attentive host, which he only assumes is a symptom of the fact that he read somewhere that you’re an American. While Danish, the host is boisterous, as if he’s known Luca since childhood. Luca smiles politely in response, graciously thanking the man and his chocolate brown curls.

The menu is small, indicating that each dish receives enough care to be excellent and he likes that, despite being described as trendy and fusion-focused, your menu is creative. It’s different. It’s inspired.

He chooses the special of the day: the mapo tofu bolognese – a traditionally Italian concept done from an Asian perspective – and the suggested wine pairing.

It doesn’t take long for him to receive his glass of wine, or his food, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how efficient service seems. Stealing glances through the open kitchen, he watches as you and your sous lead dinner service with a kind of compassionate leadership and playfulness that warms him from the inside out.

“We recommend mixing the whipped tofu into the dish for a creamier sauce. Skal,” his waitress greets, with a warm smile on her face as she sets down the bowl of noodles.

“Cheers,” Luca replies, his eyes savoring every single detail of the dish.

It’s somehow elevated, thoughtful, and elegant, yet comforting all at once.

Luca picks up his fork, using it to collect a little bit of everything – a perfect noodle twirl with just enough sauce, and ground pork before running his fork the whipped topping – raising the fork to his lips for his first bite.

As the flavors hit his tongue, he closes his eyes, and it’s as if time has stopped, just for a moment.

The wheat noodles are perfectly al dente while the whipped tofu is almost ricotta-like, transforming into a silky smooth addition to the dish, cutting the tingle and heat of the Sichuan chili peppercorn-based sauce.

The corners of his lips turn up as he takes a breath, opening his eyes as he savors the delicate layers of flavors. With a crooked smile on his face, he decides that he’ll most certainly be back next week.

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

You make peace with the fact that tonight is one of those nights – a slow night – as you finish washing your hands. It being a slow night, you’d encouraged your staff to up the hospitality at the pre-shift meeting. Treating guests with the utmost personal touches in an effort to build genuine connections would be the focus of tonight’s slow service. In fact, you and Mathilde, your sous chef, had been running dishes out this evening – something you rarely had the luxury to do.

“You should go say hello,” your sous encourages, nodding towards the dining room through the expansive window of the open kitchen.

“Thought it was your turn,” you reply in a casual tone, paying no attention to who she’s referencing.

“No, I think you should take this one,” Mathilde nudges you, causing you to look up. You shoot her a funny look, your eyes flickering over the mischievous expression she has on her face, to where she’s gestured towards.

“To-?” you begin to ask, before seeing exactly who she’s talking about.

“Ehm. Tall, blonde, and tatted!” she emphasizes in a whisper yell.

You don’t really need the description as you glance over at the dining room, easily spotting the man seated at a two-seater near the front window.

“You’re right. He’s become a bit of a regular,” you agree with a curt nod that means all business, no pleasure, as you move a few things as you walk and talk around the kitchen, tidying up.

“That’s not what I meant,” she scoffs with a playful eye roll.

“You know, Jesper thought he was Swedish because… look at him… but he’s apparently a Brit,” she gossips with you, her eyes stealing a glance his way. “We’re slow tonight. He’s here every week. Sure he’d appreciate a direct thank you from the chef!”

“I-,” you hesitate, wondering why she’s so damn insistent on this. “... yeah, alright. I’ll go.”

“That’s my girl!” Mathilde cheers, in a sing-song voice, she hands you the beautifully plated bowl of pasta to take out to the dining room.

As you walk over towards his table, you make a note that it seems as if the mystery man has made this a bit of a routine. He shows every Saturday at exactly 7 pm, week after week, for the past month or so, as if it’s a standing date he has with himself. After his first visit, you half-expected him to bring a date when he returned, or bring a group of friends, or for something different to happen.

But it hadn’t and you’ve watched him come in, week after week, with a different book each time. He always orders the special of the day and whatever suggested wine pairing Jesper’s recommended that week.

Most Saturday nights you're busy leading a kitchen or cooking on the line – having little to no time to fixate or wonder curiously over your weekly diner – but tonight’s pace affords you the luxury to spend more time at the front of house. Truthfully, you know it’s the thing that sets you apart. Sure, the hospitality here in Copenhagen is excellent, but you bring an American hospitality-style to this restaurant – and above and beyond mentality – that feels welcoming, personal, even, as if your restaurant itself is just an extension of your home.

You’ve heard your staff – front of house and back of house – whispering about him, all seemingly enamored and enchanted by the charming Brit. All any of you knew about him was that his name was Luca and that he’s always more than kind to your front of house staff.

He doesn’t say much when he comes in, you’ve noticed, but every Saturday at 7 pm, he’s pushing his way through the front door with punctuality and a gentle ease.

The whisperings from your staff had all revolved around who your mysterious regular must be: whether he was Danish or Swedish, that someone that good looking must already have a partner, that he doesn’t wear a ring.

You hadn’t paid much attention to the gossip (or at least that’s what you’ve told yourself) more focused on running dinner service then trying to piece together the story of your handsome, mysterious regular.

“Hello,” you greet him warmly. “I just wanted to come introduce myself and say thank you for becoming one of our regulars. Your support means a lot to all of us.”

“Hi, I’m Luca.”

You share your name with a smile as he shakes your hand.

Luca turns his attention down to the bowl you’ve put in front of him, his eyes taking in the beautiful presentation hungrily.

“Wow, this looks… incredible,” he marvels, returning his gaze back to you.

“Thank you. I’m sure my front of house already walked you through this but if you’d like for me to-,” you begin.

“Yes, that’d be great, thanks,” he interjects, a crooked smile on his face that makes your heart skip a beat.

You have to pull your attention away from him, hoping he doesn’t notice that you’re quite possibly gawking at him.

He’s kind, charming, and he’s easy on the eyes (easy on the eyes, really being an understatement here).

“Today’s special was inspired by a childhood favorite of mine,” you begin, walking him through each component of the dish.

Crispy Rice. Caramelized marinated trumpet mushrooms and charred broccolini. Your mom’s sauce approached with classic French techniques, courtesy of your sous, Mathilde, a classically French-trained chef.

It’s a marriage of your story. Of the people around you. It’s your heart and theirs, put into a dish.

“You’re the chef?” he asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

“Yes,” you answer, trying your best to get a read on him.

He balks, and you’re unsure of how you’re supposed to respond. Was he surprised that you’re a woman? That he’s been eating your food the whole time and expected a male chef? Before you can overthink it, Luca clarifies with:

“I’m sorry. It’s just-, I can't think of the last time I saw a head chef work front of house, let alone with this much care.”

Oh.

You let down your guard, wondering why you’d assumed the worst when the man’s been nothing but kind to you and your staff so far.

"We're a little short staffed tonight. And I love getting to talk to diners… especially on nights like this,” you explain, trying your best to sound like you hadn’t just assumed that he was a sexist asshole.

He shakes his head in disbelief, looking down at the picturesque bowl, then back to you.

Luca is impressed, and he has no intention of hiding it.

He picks up his wine glass by the stem, raising it to you.

"Cheers,” he says. “And thank you. This is a really beautiful dish.”

“Of course. Enjoy,” you reply, giving him a polite smile, before heading back into the kitchen.

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

“Good service tonight, everybody!” Jesper, your front of house manager, announces while clapping a few times to signal to staff that it’s time for a post shift meeting.

As you all gather in the pristine front of house space. Some of your cooks have taken their aprons off, others haven’t had a moment to unwind from the shift yet – business picking up in the last hour or so of service.

Jesper goes through his nightly wrap-up notes, celebrating the wins of tonight, and making sure to celebrate how everyone rallied to pick up pace when business spiked. He’s gregarious, larger-than-life, the kind of person who can talk to anyone about anything, making him an excellent front of house manager, and even better sommelier. You really lucked out with the twins, you think to yourself – with Jesper and Mathilde – when they were more than eager to work with you on opening this restaurant.

“Oh, and before we go, a client left a gift… table number four,” Jesper says, in reference to Luca’s table. He pulls a tan-colored pastry box from another table, setting it down on a table where everyone can take a look.

“As a thank you. He requested for me to share. So have it and let’s make a note next time he’s in to really treat him like a VIP.”

One of your most-talented servers opens the box, eliciting a chorus of gasps, giggles, and excited whispers as soon as the assortment of croissants and pastries are revealed.

You and Mathilde exchange a look as everyone else busy themselves with unpacking the pastry box. Mathilde raises an eyebrow and you’re not sure what to say. Witnessing your silent exchange, Jesper makes his way over to the both of you, before extending his arm to reveal the card he’s holding.

“And this, my dear…” he begins, exchanging a look with his sister. “...is for you.”

“What do you-, just me?” you ask as you take it, hesitantly.

“I think so, yeah,” he nods, confidently.

To the Chef, the front of the card reads.

“Jesper, let’s check out some of these pastries, yeah?” Mathilde suggests, not so subtly hinting towards her brother.

He nods, giving you a little space so that you can read the card Luca’s left for you.

As your staff divvy up the box of laminated pastries, sighing with joy as they taste the decadent, hand-crafted sweets, you take a few steps away to open the note. His handwriting is pristine – perfectly neat in every way, like he’s written over carefully measured invisible lines.

Chef,

Thank you for all of the great meals. I'd like to return the favor, that is, if you're open to it.

Tomorrow. 5 pm. Dronningens Tværgade 2, 1302

While Luca’s gift has been more-than-generous, you find yourself overwhelmed by questions. Was he a chef too? And why had he not said anything? And what was this gesture all about anyways?

You read the card a few more times, turning the words over in your head as you try to make sense of it.

Mathilde can see your overwhelm, your eyebrows knitted into one confused expression as she saunters back over to you.

“What does it say?” she asks, curiously. “A love confession perhaps?”

“Mathilde, you really have to stop reading all of those French romance novels!” you tease her. “It’s giving you too many ideas.”

“It’s the only way I keep up with my French!” she defends herself with a lackadaisical shrug, earning a laugh from you.

“Uh no… it’s actually a thank you card… only I think he… wants to feed me,” you share with her, holding the card out so that she can take a look.

“He’s a chef too?” she asks, taking the card from your hands.

“I think so, yeah,” you reply, letting out an exasperated laugh.

“Oh shit!” Mathilde exclaims, as soon as she sees the address that Luca’s written down.

“What?” you ask her, wondering if there’s something you missed.

“The address… that’s AOC. I think he’s a chef at AOC, babe,” she gasps, shaking her head as she hands the card back to you, sending a ‘you lucky, bitch’ look your way.

Oh shit, is right.

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

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samkerrworshipper · 5 months

Text

long distance | mapi leon x reader x ingrid engen

inspired by a prompt i got a while ago asking for a touch starved and anxious reader who’s been away from mapi and ingrid for a while and needs a reminder just how much the love her

no warnings just fluff n angst

There were a lot of pros of being a professional athlete. There were also a lot of negatives. Travelling fits into both categories, a lot of people would argue that travelling as a part of your job is awesome, especially when you're getting paid to. You agreed, travelling across the world to play soccer was pretty fucking awesome, getting to experience new cultures and different cuisine was one of your favourite parts of your job.

But being in a different country to your girlfriend for half of the year was pretty hard. Especially when you were a whole ocean away from each other.

Normally, you managed just fine, sure it messed with you a little bit but you managed, normally you’d get to see them every month or so with international breaks and weekends off, but it had been two months since you’d seen your other halves, and it had been starting to get to you.

A month was typically your threshold, so a two month stretch was a lot for you, especially with the busy Arsenal schedule that had you playing sometimes two games a week and training every other day you were being laid out thin, and it was starting to get to you. You started to get needy in the absence of Mapi and Ingrid, a weird mixture of distanced but also uncharacteristically clingy. You were grumpy, your typically never ending patience finding the end of its fuse.

Specifically you wouldn’t let Kim or Katie out of your sight, constantly attached at the hip to your teammates. You were aware it was annoying, and particularly problematic when you were a mixture of tired, hungry and touch deprived, that was when you were at your crabbiest.

You suspected someone had told on you, considering the rather lengthy text messages you’d been receiving from both Ingrid and Mapi expressing their worries about you, and letting you know that it was okay to feel a bit alone and that if you ever needed anything they were there. Not to say that you didn’t already know that, you trusted your girlfriends more than anybody, but it seemed that the longer you were away from them the more you seemed to feel like you were a burden to your girlfriends.

It was really fucking hard being the one who was always away, because you felt like you were always compensating for lost time. Mapi and Ingrid were always together, whereas you didn’t have that, you didn’t have the connection that they had on a daily basis, so every time you returned home to Barca, you felt like you had to strengthen that bond, that you had to work harder to make up for the lost time.

When the time finally did come around where there was an International break period you were a mixture of ecstatic and anxious. The final week in England had been a major struggle for you, to the point where Katie had to stay the week at your apartment because everyone was worried about you. You weren’t sleeping, or really taking care of yourself, too consumed by the ticking down days that were slowly getting you closer to the day of seeing your significant others.

You’d been dodging their calls as much as you could, you weren’t quite sure why but everything seemed harder when you were away from them, and seeing their faces was just the cherry on top.

It’s like when you get in the shower and you think the water is too hot but for some reason you don’t feel it. You just see the steam rising from your red skin and subconsciously you realise that it’s hurting you more to look at, so you take your eyes away and focus on the steam on the window and just go about your shower like nothings wrong.

Or at least that was what it felt like for you, like the more you saw and thought about Ingrid being together the more it actually hurt you, so you pushed it away for as long as your body could manage it.

When the day ticked over for Kim to take you to Heathrow you were at the end of your manageable threshold. You were tired and so deprived of everything that your whole life felt like an anxiously numb cloud that you were slowly drifting away on. Kim tried to talk to you, she even walked through the security with you and took you all the way to the gate like a six year old, you didn’t have to in you to protest and you got the vibe that if you did you would just end up with a really long and intricate lecture from Kim, which you couldn’t be bothered with, you were tired enough as it was.

You were just glad that the flights to Barcelona weren’t too long, so you could put on whatever shitty movie that had just come out and sit back and relax and ignore the fact that you were three hours away from being face to face with your girlfriends.

All you wanted to do was get there and makeup for lost time, go out to dinner, or do something that was the norm. You needed something normal, something just to make you feel like you weren’t a burden or a problem for your lovers.

When the plane did touch down you felt a surge of anxiety course through your veins, your body was too tired to even really feel it though, you could feel yourself forcing your body through the motions, picking up your bag from the luggage claim and the walking out into the Barca sun, trying to find a cab to take you to Ingrid and Mapi’s apartment.

You knew you could have asked them to pick you up from the airport, but you felt so wrong in doing so, like it was even more trouble to ask them to go out of their way to come and collect you. So you sat in the back of an uber, your knee anxiously jumping up and down as the car slowly winded through the different Barcelona streets, with every single kilometre driven slowly reeling you in closer to your final destination.

You’d never missed anybody more in your life than you had them. When you were away, there was an empty, Mapi and Ingrid shaped hole in your heart. Nothing or nobody would ever come close to filling it, and when you were away you were certain that it might never feel whole again. You felt like you were going to be sick, like everything was riding on you being okay and this interaction being okay. What if they thought you’d changed? Two months was a long time, and sure, the three of you had been dating for nearly two years, but that didn’t make it any easier. Your hands were absentmindedly toying with the rings on your fingers, silently twisting them as you pondered what your next interaction was doing to look like.

You were so busy thinking and playing with your rings that you didn’t even realise the car had pulled up to the front of the complex, until the uber driver was turning back to look at you and signalling for you to leave his car, so you did, you picked up your bag and your stomach, which you felt was about to fall out of your mouth and walked forwards into the lobby of the apartments and straight towards the elevator. You were genuinely worried about throwing up your stomach, it felt like all of your internal organs were crammed in your throat and it was seriously affecting your brain's ability to think and your ability to breathe.

You managed to make your way to the doorstep of the apartment, and managed to raise your fist high enough to knock on the door. You had a key, but you didn’t want to break in, not without warning.

You waited a few seconds, before you were rewarded with the sight of Mapi opening the door, her eyebrows shooting up as soon as she realised that you were standing in front of her.

“Princesse, come in!”

Mapi’s face lit up immediately, and it did wonders in easing your stomach and easing up the deep frown that had become so familiar to your face recently.

You allowed Mapi to usher you into the apartment, into the kitchen where Ingrid was sitting, her eyes lighting up similarly to Mapi’s when she noticed who had entered the apartment.

“Elskling! You’re here?”

You’d thought that you’d texted one of the women to let them know about your flights, but you weren’t sure, in hindsight you probably should have looked into that.

“Yeah I’m here, sorry if I’m disturbing anything, I thought I texted one of you.”

Ingrid stood up from her spot sitting at the island bench, a bright smile on her face as she got closer to you.

“Not at all, we were just about to head out and get lunch and maybe go to the beach for some recovery, but spending the rest of the day with you sounds like a pretty good plan to me, Maria min?”

You felt your throat close up, you were stepping on their plans, something that you most definitely didn’t want to do.

“If you had plans then we can do them, I’ve had a coffee so I’m feeling great and i don’t want to ruin your plans.”

Ingrid just shook her head at you.

“Nonsense, we’ll stay in for the day.”

It sat wrong with you, knowing that you were potentially wrecking their planned day.

“No, I seriously don’t want to wreck any plans, I feel up to it.”

Ingrid’s big smile turned into a little frown, as she finally broke the barrier between the three of you, her hand reaching out to your flustered face and brushing a piece of hair out of your eyes.

“Elskling, in the nicest way possible, you look wrecked, how about we get into some pjs and hop into bed? You look like you're due to catch up on some sleep.”

There was little fight left in your body to disagree with Ingrid, the Norwegians' deep frown of concern working wonders at bringing down your barriers.

“Ingrid I feel fine, I seriously don’t want to ruin your guys’ plans or be a burden, let’s just do whatever y’all had planned, I feel fine.”

Ingrid let go of a deep exhale, her lungs deflating as she looked you up and down, Mapi mirroring her concerned look from behind you.

“Bebita, Kim told us that you haven’t been sleeping, that you’ve been struggling, let’s just go to bed, yeah?”

You noticed the way that Ingrid’s hand snaked it’s way down from your face to your waist, pulling your body closer to her own, craving the contact that she was providing, and the skin on skin slowly pulling the refusal out from your body. You felt yourself flinch away from Ingrid’s touch slightly, your body so shocked by the unfamiliar contact.

“Baby?”

You could hear the hesitance in Ingrid’s voice.

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’m so sorry, I’m just not used to this, it’s been a long time, I forgot what it felt like to be in your arms.”

As soon as the words were leaving your mouth Ingrid’s arms secured around you tightly, like she was never going to let go. You could feel tears pooling in your eyes, the strength that you’d been holding up for so long just by the feeling of Ingrid’s thumb massaging against your hip bone.

“Never apologise Elskling, let’s get you to bed, hm?”

You didn’t even try to protest as Ingrid led you towards the bedroom, Mapi already in the bed waiting for you. Ingrid helped you onto the bed, before handing you over into Mapi’s arms, your body falling limp against hers as it absorbed the touch it had been desperate for.

“Hiya hermosa, it’s okay, we’ve got you, you're safe here.”

You felt the pooled up tears start to fall down your face, the warm water leaking down your face like a dripping faucet, steadily creating a little reservoir of water at the base of your chin.

“Oh bebita, it’s okay, I’ve got you, I’m here, what’s wrong?”

For you it felt like the whole world was wrong, like it was upside down and topsy turvy.

“You guys just love me too much, I’m so much trouble and you never get to see me and every time I am here I’m tired and a burden.”

Your speech was like word vomit, all of your insecurities just coming out in one go.

“Oh elskling, you’re not trouble at all. There is nothing Ingrid and I would rather do than sit around and look after you. God knows you need it after being in London for so long, you should have told us you were struggling, we would have come and visited you, even if it was just for a day. It’s human for you to need this, to need us. We love you whether you're tired or not, we couldn’t care less if our time together is spent going out or sitting in bed all day, as long as it’s with you elskling then that’s what matters the most.”

Mapi’s words only spurred your tears on, sending them ricocheting down your face.

“Oh bebita, it’s okay, Ingrid and I are here now, you're back where you should be.”

Mapi’s arms tightened around your body, bringing your head into her chest. Ingrid slid into the bed beside the two of you, a drink bottle and some paracetamol.

“Hey bebita, can you just drink some of this for me before you rest please, we don’t want you getting dehydrated.”

You didn’t want to, but you also didn’t have the energy to push it, so you took the bottle from Ingrid and took a tentative sip.

“More please elskling, at least a few more sips.”

You pulled your head from Mapi’s head, taking the offered pain relief and downing it with the sips that you took from the bottle. After downing a decent amount of the fluids you handed the bottle back to Ingrid, who placed it down on the bedside table before wrapping her own arms around you and embracing both Mapi and yourself.

You felt so safe with them, so secure, like every single insecurity or problem that you’d been dealing with in the last two months didn’t matter now, because you were in their arms, you were with them.

As you slowly drifted off to sleep you felt more at peace then you ever had, or more at peace then you’d ever felt in London, for whatever reason, when you were with the Spaniard and Norwegian every single external noise just went quiet, the world was peaceful, and they were the reason why.

Your happiness, your positive feelings all revolved around them, they were the sun and you were earth, just orbiting them and bathing in whatever sunlight that you could find.

#woso #woso community #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #mapi león #ingrid engen #mapi leon x ingrid engen #barca femeni #barca #mapi leon x reader x ingrid engen #little bit of fluff #love angst

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bidisastersanji · 6 months

Text

Thanks to everyone who screamed in the tags and asked for a part two of the Roronoa “I learned French just to overhear if my crush likes men” Zoro” story. 🤡 Part one here. And a million thanks to @inoreuct for the help 🙏 You can also read it on AO3 here if you prefer. Edit: Part three here, part four here

---

"WHY ARE SWORDS WOMEN!???"

"Calm down, Roronoa. They’re not women, they’re just a feminine word."

Zoro digs the palm of his hands into his eyes, hunching over the big dinner table in this godforsaken mansion on this godforsaken island. How had it come to this? He was supposed to be training to become the world’s greatest swordsman … and here he was. Stuck learning inanimate objects’ stupid imaginary gender and whatever the hell kind of tense “ plus-que-parfait ” (more-than-perfect) is.

Scattered around him are French grammar, spelling and exercise books, loose papers and empty glasses of wine. Sadly, not his own. His stupid dad mentor had decided that he was banned from drinking from his private cellars until daily lessons had ended.

Dracule Mihawk. Hawkeye. Renowned monster powerhouse, the world’s greatest swordsman, a feared warlord…is sat in reading glasses, correcting his pronunciation and teaching him the most vexing language on the planet: French.

“Are you quite finished making a scene? I’ve stopped talking exclusively French to you for many months now. Be grateful.”

Zoro presses his lips together tightly to keep himself from saying something he’ll regret. It wouldn’t do him or his crew any good to lose this opportunity to learn from the best. After the salt-shaker incident, Mihawk, quickly followed by Perona-who only wishes misery upon him- only responded to him if he spoke his broken French to them and would only speak to him in that tongue in return. His already impossibly difficult swords lessons… challenges? Whatever one would call the hellish training regimens the warlord put him through became even more impossible now that he couldn’t even understand the instructions. After a few too many close calls and instances of French being shouted at him louder and louder (saying it louder won’t make him magically understand), Mihawk changed tactics and decided to teach him the academic way instead, in the evenings after supper. Suppers which definitely didn’t leave him longing for someone else’s cooking.

Supposedly surprised at his silence (with this man, there’s no way to really tell for sure what could be going through his mind), Mihawk lowers his glasses and takes a long look at him. “And how is your reading coming along?”

Seated across from him and eating her dessert, Perona gives a loud snort, choking a bit on her strawberry shortcake. Her ever-present floating ghosts laugh a little louder, covering her badly stifled laughter as she purses her lips.

Zoro glares daggers at her, neck and ears flushing intensely. “It’s going… fine .”

In reality, his reading isn’t going “fine”. The Manor’s entire west wing is filled to the brim with the most boring, coma-inducing, self-aggrandising books on philosophy, French cuisine, land management, architecture and theology, all written in chicken scratch, old timey French. Zoro had tried his hand at reading one that seemed perhaps less bad than the others, but on his tenth try at staying awake on reading the third page describing the gothic stone arches of a church- he gave up. It felt more painstaking to spend one more second looking at another page of that book than getting sliced open by Mihawk so many months ago.

In the pits of his désespoir, his guard was down, and his alarm bells didn’t ring when Perona innocently approached him and handed him a book that looked markedly different from the rest of Mihawk’s collection. At a second glance, he realized that he’d seen that book on Sanji’s hammock-side barrel before, recognizing the distinctive lettering of “Harlequin editions” on the spine.

“Here. I’m taking pity on you. Mihawk has a secret stash of these in his personal library. They’re easier to read and will get the job done. You need to meet a quota of one a week, right?”

Out of options, Zoro silently accepted the book and retreated to his quarters. If it was good enough for the cook (and Perona?), it would be good enough for him.

His suspicions should have risen from the moment he recognised it was a work of fiction- unlike every single book he’d come across here. But no , studious mindset activated and with a dictionary on hand for any word he might not know, it took him longer than he’d care to admit to realise this was a romance book. And not just any romance book- a ludicrously explicit book detailing many, many scandalous trysts between a dark, mysterious, broody vampire and his parade of beautiful, lithe and oh-so-flirtatious nobles of all genders. He had to stop and put the book down several times, too flustered from explicit descriptions of passionately taking people against cold stone walls, bending them over various pieces of antique furniture and even tying them to extravagant four poster beds. It was too much for the poor swordsman to handle.

It was mainly the thought of the pervy cook reading this… it stirred something low within him, his thoughts running wild at the natural implication that the scenarios held within the worn pages- the rough, possessive, teasing, kinky and playful sexual acts- were all things that Sanji had read. And enjoyed. Multiple times if his memory served him right. Sanji owned this book, which meant that this was something that… aroused him. Face like a furnace and heart beating wildly, Zoro tugged at his hair, unable to cope with this new information nor the inappropriate thoughts and images his mind was conjuring involving a certain sharp-tongued blonde, his powerful thighs and unfairly biteable neck. He could almost see his fiery blue eye boring adversarially into his own, a cheeky smirk that was just begging to be kissed off-

Zoro snapped the book shut.

Fuck .

After an uncomfortably sweaty night and a glacial shower, it was only at breakfast that further implications finally clicked for the rattled swordsman. The lewd book had come, as Perona had put it, from Mihawk’s secret stash .

One: the book was Mihawk’s. That dawning realisation alone froze Zoro mid-chew, and he decided then and there that he would never be able to look the older man in the eye ever again. At least not in the same way.

I know what you are

It wasn’t difficult to make the connection between the book’s owner, a pale, recluse, wine drinking man in a manor and the book’s main vampire. Two: this was from a stash . Meaning there would be many, many more of these books in the manor. Three, because of the nature of his mentor’s “official” library (unreadable), he will de facto have to keep reading bodice-rippers for well over a year and inevitably assimilate the raunchiest, most useless lexicon known to man, in what some people call the language of love. Wonderful. Despite himself, Zoro knew he’d already memorized at least three different ways to refer to male genitalia, and that was just from reading one of those little fuckers.

Weeks, months pass, and boy had Zoro been right. And annoyingly, so had Mihawk, on how reading would drastically improve his French. (If Robin could see him now…) The smutty books came and went, courtesy of Perona, and his reliance on his dictionary diminished. As the books’ premises plunged deeper and deeper into unspeakable domains, Zoro made the firm decision to stop asking questions. For the sake of his sanity. He never again wanted Perona to share her thoughts on the "thematic beauty of the monster fucker genre". He would never fully recover from the hour-long exposé she made him on ABO dynamics. Nor could he ever recover from the knowledge that all these novels came from Dracule Mihawk’s private library .

He now knew way too much about Mihawk's kinks and sexual tastes in men, and he wished to believe in a god so he could pray to never have to address this with the man within his life. Ever.

Which is why he's currently sweating bullets at Mihawk's inquiry into his latest reads, and why Perona is looking at him like the cat that ate the canary.

Eyes darting between his two guests, the warlord's lips tug at their corners in something resembling a smile.

"I take it you haven't found the sword fighting books yet then?"

The what.

Zoro promptly chokes on his saliva, coughing aggressively into his fist, his remaining eye bulging in surprise.

"Yes, did Perona not tell you? All the baking books in the French cuisine section actually hold sword forms and techniques. My boy, what have you been reading?"

—/

Sanji had maybe had just a few too many drinks tonight. His face feels warm, his limbs are nice and relaxed- if still a bit sore from the battle- and his tongue is a little loose. He knows it's one too many when it takes him a couple of sentences to realise he and Robin are speaking French together, and he's grateful for the unconscious switch when he faintly registers that Zoro is sat not very far, by himself, just across the campfire.

That was a close one.

Robin prods him for more information on his one-night stands, and who is he to deny a lady, really? He feels the words spill from his mouth like boiling water overflowing from a pot. He hears his voice confess a truth he's not let himself face for years and blames the wine.

"En vrai ce n'est pas qu'ils ne sont pas satisfaisants... c'est qu'ils ne sont jamais...assez. "

The cook swims in half-forgotten memories of one night stands he sought out on lonely evenings at random ports. Of fumbling hands and desperate kisses, of leaving before the sun has even risen, of cold sheets and empty beds in the morning... Sanji doesn't like the bitter taste his admittance leaves in his mouth, nor the way his chest feels just a little tighter. He knows what his love-starved self really wants, what he craves most of all... is the stupidly perfect man sitting across the fire. Like a moth to a flame, he yearns to know what it would feel like. To matter . To be seen in all his flawed, weak existence, and not be thrown aside like the mistake he is. To be loved , cared for, cherished tenderly by someone as earnest and devoted as he knows the swordsman to be. It's with a bleeding heart that he finally voices his love, answering Robin on what would be enough.

"Lui. "

His finger taps the ash off his cigarette before taking another long, long drag. Forlorn, he tears his gaze away from Zoro and nearly startles at the sincere warmth he sees dancing in the archeologist's eyes.

"Tu devrais lui dire ."

(You should tell him.)

Sanji laughs at that. "Mais bien sûr. J'vais me lever, me planter devant lui et tout lui avouer. "

(But of course. I'll get up, walk right up to him and confess everything.)

A beat. Robin impassively stares back at him. Sanji knows being a devil fruit eater isn't the only similarity between her and their captain. Their stubbornness is something he knows not to underestimate. He sighs and gulps the rest of his drink down. He must be out of his goddamn mind. And maybe a little drunker than he thought he was.

"Je ne sais pas te dire non, ma chère Robin." She smiles. "Mais saches que tu n'as pas précisé dans quelle langue je devais lui parler. "

(I don't know how to say no to you, my dear Robin. But please note that you didn't specify the language I should speak to him in.)

Before she can charm him into switching to a language the Marimo understands, the cook is already skirting around the fire with slightly wobbly steps. If he can just keep his tone right, tinged with a bit of anger, then he can probably pull this off, he thinks.

“You.” He points at Zoro accusingly.

The mosshead turns to face him, an unreadable expression on his face. “Me?”

Sanji doesn’t linger on it, all his mental capacity concentrating on making sure he uses French at the right moments.

“Yes, you fucking ange tombé du ciel , I have some words for you. Some mots doux if you will, so just sit tight and listen. You owe me after I saved your ass earlier.”

(Angel fallen from heaven; sweet words)

Surprised that Zoro doesn’t contradict him on the “saving his ass” part, he doesn’t stop to think and squashes the little voice inside him that questions why he’s going through with this.

Sanji fully planned on a heartfelt rant about all the idiot swordsman’s qualities- how unfair it is that he has it all. He really did. but he also feels a sudden shyness overtake him now that he’s standing in front of the idiot in question. To look Zoro in the eyes while saying such embarrassing, emotional shit won't do, and Sanji’s eyes make the mistake of looking down- only to be met with the tantalising sight of a broad, scarred chest and crossed arms that do nothing to hide the strong, corded muscle underneath. Oh, f uck me. His fake annoyance becomes partially real.

"Enfoiré! comment jsuis supposé te résister, hein? " He indignantly waves his cigarette around.

(You bastard! How am I supposed to resist you, huh?)

"Non mais vraiment- est ce que t’as la moindre idée de l’effet que t’as quand tu te balades torse nu sur le pont, tout dégoulinant de sueur? Ou de l’effet que les bruits que tu fait durant tes entraînements ont sur moi? J’ai qu’à fermer mes yeux et c’est- je…” he can feel his ears burning. Fuck it. Why not let it all out, he’ll feel better afterwards.

( No, but really- do you have any idea of the effect you have when you walk shirtless on deck, dripping with sweat? Or how the noises you make during your workouts affect me? All I have to do is close my eyes and it's- I...)

“Tu me rends fou. Après nos combats c’est si facile d’imaginer tes mains calleuses m’aggrippant possessivement, ta peau salée sur ma langue, ton torse haletant d’effort, ton regard enflammé -”

( You drive me crazy. After our fights it's so easy to imagine your calloused hands gripping me possessively, your salty skin on my tongue, your torso panting with effort, your fiery gaze -)

Still sat in front of Sanji, Zoro’s face is turning red and he’s shooting Sanji a heated look, no doubt irritated about being ranted at in French. Tough shit. Sanji wasn’t done.

“T’es si favorisé par les dieux, je suis même sûr que ta bite est énorme. Et puis si tu savais ce que je te laisserais me faire- ” he rolls his eyes and snorts, hoping the exasperation part of his rant is convincingly coming through.

(You're so favoured by the gods, I'm pretty sure you even have a huge dick. And if you knew what I'd let you do to me-)

Zoro’s mouth parts in shock, and a small anxious thought crosses Sanji’s mind- but there’s absolutely no way in hell the shitty mosshead knows French. He would sooner know his left from his right.

“Dis moi.” (Tell me.)

“Tell you what, stupid marimo-” it takes a couple of seconds for the cook to comprehend what just happened, and a strangled noise crawls its way out of his throat. Everything comes to a halt, his world crumbles down. Oh no. Oh no .

Zoro rises to his feet and steps into his space, a dangerously sinful grin across his face. At this point Sanji’s brain has fully stopped working, and it’s all he can do to gape stupidly back at him, face redder than it’s ever been.

“Dis moi. ” he repeats, voice low and so foreign sounding as it tries to replicate the right intonation of Sanji’s mother tongue. “Ou si tu préfères je peux te dire ce que je voudrais bien te faire, moi.”

( Tell me. Or if you prefer, I can tell you what I'd like to do to you.)

Warm blood bursts forth from Sanji’s nose, and his world turns black.

#zosan fic #zoro x sanji #zoro learns french story #zoro learns french #sanji x zoro #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #writing the mihawk part was just so fun #as requested Zoro speaks french to sanji and oh boi #one piece zosan #please let me know if you liked it! im so self conscious of my french haha

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xo2dee · 4 months

Text

𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬

𝐣𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

❦ Pairing: Nanami Kento x (Fem)Reader

❦ Warnings: MDNI/18+ only. oral sex (fem receiving), vaginal fingering, edging (fem receiving), dirty talk, vaginal sex, rough sex, orgasm delay/denial, light bondage, unprotected sex, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, creampie

❦ Word Count: 6051

❦ Summary: Jingle all the way.

❦ A/N: i wrote this two years ago around christmas time and have revised it like twice, so it's only fair i share this one here first given how it's still in season

❦ twitter - ao3

In retrospect, you hadn’t thought you would gander the attention you had gotten from him. At least, not so soon.

(But it wasn't like you didn't always have his attention anyway.)

Nanami Kento was an exceedingly busy man, and returning to his job as a Jujutsu Sorcerer was almost just as busy as his time spent as a salaryman; albeit he did admit to you that perhaps it was less stressful, but he still had his headaches whenever Gojo Satoru decided to pester him with annoying antics to tell him about an investigation rather than just telling him straight up (he had been subjected to more than enough crude drawings of the male and female reproductive anatomy to speak for that accusation). And because of that, it was increasingly hard for you and him to ever spend time together since he always seemed to work well into overtime no matter how times he grouched about how much he hated it.

Dates were often hard to come by with him, but alas, it was like they said it being a ‘Christmas Miracle’ whenever a seemingly extremely happy and yearned for event happened in the month of December that Kento found some time off for the holidays even if it wasn’t necessarily celebrated as much. Because of that, you were able to enjoy more time with him and take time decorating for the corresponding holiday later in the month as well as plan a nice dinner night with him since you two really hadn’t sat down and enjoyed each other’s company like that in a long while.

You two also hadn’t had sex in a while. And perhaps that was why when Kento had asked you if you were going out to buy stockings to hang above the fireplace, you bought another more suggestive type of stockings as well.

Maybe it was the pent-up sexual frustration from that feeling of not touching each other like that in so long that got him so riled up, but fuck, from the way he eyed you as you stepped out in it for what was supposed to be a somewhat formal dinner between you two in your shared apartment…

You patted yourself on the back for buying the number because as much as you liked it, so did he.

Dinner with Kento at a restaurant or not was always a gracious occasion, he was composed and polite in matters of enjoying a fine cuisine with you and treasured that time he got with you. You liked the domesticity of it as you two chatted over glasses of burgundy wine, watching the glinting of your silverware in the light as you bit into your meal, and overall, just enjoyed his presence because it was hard to come by to get him like that.

You often told him you preferred his cooking over going out to eat, knowing from experience that he personally made the food just right whenever you were eating it. He had been taking his time in baking as well, the cake of your favorite flavor with strawberries on top he had made sitting on the counter in your kitchen for the romantic occasion something you had been looking forward to trying as well when you told him you were ready for dessert.

Honestly you had meant the cake as a dessert, but Kento was dead set on indulging himself in another type of dessert beforehand. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint where and when he finally snapped, you knew he was already teetering on a fine line to keep a strong hold onto his will whenever you first walked out in the little Christmas Elf ensemble.

The outfit itself was probably enough to nearly make him combust; the Christmas green, velvet, negligee combined with a jagged, jingle-bell trim that barely covered your ass and the plunging neckline that had your breasts pushed up and ready to pop out of the top of it had his dark eyes homing in on the parts of your flesh exposed. Your hat was something you hadn’t thought to really keep on since it was already in the floor next to dinner table, but you were beginning to think that perhaps his favorite part of the outfit was the thigh-high stockings lining up your legs and your red thong that matched the color of his tie for the night.

(Of course, he had matching ties for the holidays, it was just so him.)

The stocking themselves were green and white-striped topped off with their own little jingle-bell positioned neatly into the middle of your thighs, that which with every moment you made, they jingled. You had noticed his eyes mainly gravitate down towards there, mouth thinning and a vein throbbing in his temple with each step you made in them walking towards him in those damn fuzzy little kitten heels he had bought you that one time. Kento wasn’t so discreet in pulling his collar away from his neck and tugging at his tie as you both sat down to eat in an action of frustration and probable horniness, and he wasn’t so discreet with the rough tone his voice held every time he tried to engage in any conversation with you.

You knew that you would get fucked after dinner anyway considering the dilated, alluring gaze he was throwing at you from underneath his eyelashes that you normally got whenever he was in the mood, but you being you wanted to indulge in your own fun to see how far you could push him.

After all, it had been so long since you two touched each other so intimately.

Like you had been thinking beforehand, you weren’t too sure where and when Kento decided to say fuck it and bend you over the table, but you had some possible guesses. Perhaps when you licked a slow stripe on your fork with a sighing moan talking about how good it tasted. Or maybe when you purposefully kept pushing your arms together to let your tits strain against the bra that your nipples were about to spill out of for his view, talking about how tight the outfit was. Though if you really had to pick one of the guesses, it was when both of you had finished the actual dinner and then you sighed about how you wanted to be stuffed full right as you ate that dessert.

That really was the last thing you had really said to each other, the only thing coming out his mouth after had been a curse and some concealed grunts while you on the other hand were alternating with filthy praises and moans mixed with whines while Kento had his own dessert.

At that moment in time, you were bent over the dining table, hands clutching onto the tablecloth in tight fists and your chest squished into the hard surface with one leg Kento had hoisted up onto the table in a harsh grip on your thigh. Your other leg was balancing up on your tiptoes while your lover had fallen onto his knees after all but tearing your thong off and throwing it onto the table just above your head and used his other hand to spread the ass cheek of your leg that wasn’t on the table to bury his face nose-deep into your pussy.

You had already been getting wet with your own teasing, but Kento’s tongue was fast to let you start nearly dripping onto the floor and the tablecloth while delivering slow, fat licks with the base of his tongue up the entirety of your wet folds. His fingers dug into your ass of what he could with a squeeze, his hot breath and grunts vibrating through the opening of your cunt whenever you wiggled from a particular stimulated swipe of his tongue and moaned into the tablecloth.

Trying to sit up on your elbows to look back at him he was quick to force you back down with a hand placed onto your lower back, a slap to your ass afterwards for trying to move your pussy away for his ‘meal’. You whined and scratched at tablecloth that was nearly falling off the dinner table in a fashion Kento would’ve normally sighed at and pinched the bridge of his nose for, wriggling your hips harder against his nose for him to stop with the torturous licking and to just really devour your cunt like a man starved.

“Kento, please, go faster,” you huffed against the cloth, cheeks as hot as the temperature of the room. The fireplace in the living room had been lit to help set the romantic mood and to help fight the cold weather freezing the windows, and above the fireplace was the two cute stockings you had bought for the both of you. You watched the fire flicker in a drunk-like state, almost reminiscent of the hot sensation behind your naval growing every time your lover let the tip of his tongue jab at your clit. Everything was so hot, and you felt so warm.

Kento delivered another smack to your ass cheek, no doubt the skin beginning to redden from the repeated hits he had been giving you since he bent you over the damn table and started eating your pussy like it was his last meal. You moaned again as the sting morphed and grew alongside of your heightened pleasure, but you knew the slap was his own way of saying he wanted to hear something better than that.

You arched your back to deliberately rock your hips back into his face, his tongue sliding faster up your slit as he turned to slurping and sucking around the area with a groan from your eagerness, “Just… I wanna feel it, I wanna cum on your tongue and your face, please.”

That rewarded you a louder groan that vibrated your pussy again, his hand on your thigh holding you up moving to grasp your hip as the other grabbed the thigh of your leg desperately trying to remain on the ground to spread it wider for his liking. Once you were situated like he wanted, he changed his course of action: that hand holding your thigh disappeared to let two fingers begin a slow, rotating rub onto your clit, and his face delved deeper into your cunt with the tip of his tongue wiggling around until he had your lips spread open far enough to push the organ inside of you some. All the while the hand on your hip coasted you back and forth, encouraging you to rock back and grind against his face as he continued eating you out.

Your reaction was instantaneous; a keening, louder moan past through your lips as your eyes slightly rolled whenever his tongue made quick work to map out the inside of your dripping cunt. You eagerly followed his instruction of rolling your hips every time he swiped up the inside of you, coating your insides with his own saliva and at the same time greedily letting your fluids soak up into his taste buds.

God, Kento was one of the best pussy eaters you had ever had the pleasure coming of across, and it really doubled down onto that fact since he always wanted to indulge in it every time you two had sex.

“God, Kento, your mouth…” you broke off into whimper whenever he picked up the speed of rubbing your clit, switching from the circles to a steady back and forth, pressing down every time he repeated the process. You pressed your forehead into the table below you, almost wanting to just shred the white cloth from how fucking good it felt each time you rolled back onto his tongue and whenever he curled the tip of his tongue to lick up a side of you while pressing harder onto your clit, and ohfuckinghell –

Kento groaned again and his fingers flexed harder on your hip whenever you started to clench and unclench around his slick, hot tongue, his lips pressing over the lower parts of your pussy in a kiss to lap up any escaping fluids that his tongue wasn’t able to catch. The appendage felt insane, and you didn’t know how he managed to do it, but every time you two got to fucking he made it better each time around.

“S-Shit, just like that, please. Fuck, I’m so close,” you whimpered again as you dug your face harder into the tablecloth to fight back a horribly loud, pornographic moan. He answered back by smacking off your cunt and sliding his tongue out of you to give you another slow, almost lazy lick on the outer parts of you, deliberately teasing at your clit in a quick jab before he was diving back in with a hot exhale to put his tongue back in your warm pussy.

You bit into the cloth at that, eyes shutting in a squeeze as the coil behind lathering up in your lower abdomen pushed harder against you. Your brain had blocked out everything that wasn’t him, just giving all focus of letting your hips swing back and forth from his face and letting your cunt constrict and press around his tongue to get a feel of the greedy organ swirling around inside of you to feel every curl and swipe it made against your insides. Your back arched further inwards and your toes curled as well; the all-telling sign you were so fucking close to cumming.

God, you wanted it so bad.

The leg on the ground started to shake as Kento picked up his darts and jabs against your soft cunt and his fingers started move more rapidly on your clit. You were getting desperate then after that, his tongue-fucking making you rock back eagerly like you were fucking back on his dick those so many times he had you face down into your mattress. His fingers digging into your hip only added to the intensity behind abdomen and growing in your pussy that was rapidly approaching each time he groaned sending a vibration up all the towards your clit and cervix alike, your pleas getting jumbled together in praises and just broken whines of his name.

“Please, fuck –” you squealed when he hummed and pinched your clit – “Kento, it feels so good, I’m gonna cum, keep going…” your back arched hard whenever he slapped your ass again, nails really starting to rip into the tablecloth when his tongue slithered up out of you and he decided to let the slick organ join the movement on your clit.

However when he closed his lips around your swollen clit and sucked, you jerked hard with your cunt beginning to spasm as you were on the cusp of finally cumming all over his fucking face and he just needed to keep sucking and groaning while he did it as you continued to fuck back into his face and you were so close, just right there, right there, right there, fuck –

When the all-telling loud whine of his name finally left your lips that he fucking knew meant you were about to cum, he abruptly backed off of you, taking his tongue, his mouth and his fingers altogether and leaving you edged up and your cunt leaking from all the fluids of his saliva and yours combined. A groan left you and you banged your forehead onto the table whenever you felt his presence leave your entire body for a few moments, leaving your pussy gaping open and your hips still desperately rocking for any type of friction to let you cum.

He was in that mood.

Well… it was too be expected when you had really set him over the edge that time.

“Kento –” you started off, but quickly his name trailed off into a squeal whenever he gripped both your hips and flipped you back over upwards to face him, letting you get the full, hazy sight of him already jerking his tie out of its knot rather aggressively and throwing it onto the table next to you. He didn’t waste any time after doing that, the clanking of his belt coming undone as he only undid his pants far enough to pull his hard cock out and let it sit snugly on your clit as he slowly began to rock onto it.

Your toes curled again as he pulled you down lower onto the table, hooking your legs over his hips as you watched his flushed face follow the movements of his dick rubbing up on your clit until you started squirming and bucking up towards him in a wordless beg to just fuck you. Your orgasm was well gone by then, the throbbing of your clit and his grinding slowly picking it back up until he decided he had enough of your little wriggling around and just wanted to be inside of you once and for all.

Kento surprisingly didn’t take it slow then, his cockhead lining up with your opening for a few seconds until he was pushing his hips forward into one good thrust and bottoming out inside of you. You always gasped every time he got inside of you, the girth of him enough to knock the breath out of you and make you grip onto his forearms. He did the same too, a long shuddering exhale leaving his glistening lips covered in your fluids as his hands moved to grip onto the tablecloth beside of your head and he started to shallowly thrust into you.

“I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you,” he grunted out, sounding just as out of breathe as you felt, “You’re always so wet, so easy for me to just slip in… It’s been so long, I almost want to just take this slow and savor every way you moan and the way you feel right now gripping me,” his hips started to move faster, your body beginning bounce each time he slid out far enough and pushed back in.

His talking and voice alone had you clenching around him, ready to just fucking gush on his cock if he so much as asked. However, your interest was piqued by his explanation of ‘almost wanting to go slow’, eagerly looking up at him through your lidded eyes with your sighing lips as your hands left his arms to tug at the buttons of his shirt.

Once you got his shirt done and the view of his muscled body in sight, he spoke again with a rougher, sharp edge in his tone, “You remember what you said earlier?”

“Mmm." He was picking up his pace, the bells on your negligee and your stockings beginning to jingle each time your body slid up and back down on the dinner table, “What’d I say?” you breathily asked, hands hungrily running down the planes of his sculpted abdomen.

“You said you wanted to be ‘stuffed full’ of the dessert I made,” he groaned out whenever you pinched a nipple, one of his hands curling long fingers around your wrists as the other made way for his tie next you. He made quick work wrapping the fabric of it around your wrists, not tight enough to cut your circulation off, but tight enough to keep your hands secured, and topped it off with its own little bow as he pushed your tied-up hands in-between your cleavage.

Almost like you were his present.

“Behave,” he warned when you snickered, and afterwards letting his fingers tugging the straps of your negligee down onto your upper arms before returning his hands to fist at the tablecloth next to your ribs. “As I was saying, you said you wanted to be stuffed full,” his hips were picking speed up again, the sound of your clothing jingling louder and the cold steel of his belt clanking and pressing against your skin adding to the noise in the room. “Tell me, did you mean you wanted to be stuffed full of my cock or stuffed full of my cum?”

The words sent a frenzy into your brain that shot down your spine and tingled into your clit, your thighs squeezing around his hips in tune to how your pussy squeezed over his dick each time it rolled back inside of you. Your fingers curled and your joints popped as you craved to grab onto something, pants slipping out of your mouth as you tried to answer him, “I – mmm, I want, fuck –”

A slap landed onto the side of your thigh, “Tell me… I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

God, every time he talked to you like that your pussy was already drenching and ready to just beg him for whatever. The words alone had you moaning again as you heard the table below you two start to creak and the wine glasses beginning to shake in tune with his thrusting. Your head rolled back as you shut your eyes, the building pressure in your abdomen already weighing you back down as the babbling was already falling off your lips for affirmation to get him to actually finally fuck you.

“Both! Please just fuck me until I’m full of cum. IwantitsobadpleaseKentoplease!”

You got what you wanted at least.

At first, he groaned at your whines with his fingers ripping the tablecloth at how you sounded, your moans for him the sweetest and the most tempting sounds in the world to him as they sent chills through his body just from how he and he alone was blessed to hear them. After that, he very nearly lethargically pulled his cock out until his swollen and reddened cockhead skimmed your folds in a kiss, and then it was whole other side of him you were so goddamn happy to see when he snapped back into your cunt and set himself off with a devastating pace.

Your back instantly arched once you were thrown into the haven of ecstasy that was him ferociously fucking you, a choked out moan from his tenaciousness as your body really began to bounce and slide onto the dinner table.

Fuck, you loved pushing his buttons.

The table then was really creaking, the glasses above you two tipping back and forth with each jab of his cock he sent pressed into the deepest part of your pussy and the wine bottle almost rolling off into the floor if his fast reflexes hadn’t caught it and placed it into the chair behind him. The other noises you were able to hear were your own moans and pants all jumbled sorts of his name, and his own grunting and groaning low in his chest combined with the obscene sound of your pussy getting smacked into every time he pulled out far enough and dove back in with hard snaps.

But there was another noise that you would’ve laughed at if you weren’t currently getting the shit fucked out of you by your lover, who had not once felt the touch of your pussy in what seemed to be months.

The little bells on your stockings and at the bottom of your negligee that had been pushed up past your hips were tinkling so loud and so in a tune, it nearly sounded like it was being played by an orchestra entirely made up of sleigh bells. You had half a mind to think it nearly could be paired with the knocking of the table to add in the effect of hooves signaling the sign of reindeer arriving, but you were so caught up with focusing on how fucking good Kento felt you only thought about it for brief moments.

His cock deep diving into your cunt was gut-curling and left you gasping out each time he found home inside of you so bad that it started to line up with how your words came out of you. You were mesmerized by his face as always; red and his forehead sweaty enough to let tendrils of his blonde locks curl onto the surface of while his dark brows were scrunched into a furrow and at times, he bit his lip to keep himself from moaning louder than you. At other times you knew he liked to watch your face; his brown eyes heavily dilated and boring into your own to watch every expression you made to commit it to his memory, however then…

His eyes were acutely focused on watching his cock leave you as your cunt twitched and gaped open awaiting his return, and watching it so easily enter you again and how your pussy would stretch to accommodate his size and it was a perfect fit –

Kento’s nostrils flared as another harsh exhale left him, his strokes picking up a fraction letting you know that he was getting close rather quickly. You couldn’t blame him, it had been so long and you were ready to cum all over him as well.

Your back knocking into the table had your tits bouncing out of your built-in bra, the gasping sounds of your words bringing his eyes back to your own as you spoke with each harsh thrust, “You haven’t – been – like this – in a while – God – last time – you were like – this – it was the – first – time I let you – cum inside of me – oh fuck.”

Kento eyes narrowed into your own before they briefly dropped to watch your breasts bounce with each thrust, your hardened nipples catching his attention as he reached up and tweaked one. You squealed and wiggled your hips, but he didn’t let up as he leant down closer and the upwards angle of his cock inside of you had your eyes crossing while his mouth found your ear. His gravelly voice sent a new wave shivers down your spine, “Need I remind you that you begged for it? You whined and cried about how much you wanted me to finally ‘fuck you’ and let you feel me cum in you. How shameful you are begging to be filled like that, but I can’t say I’m surprised since you beg me for it every time.”

At the angle he was at practically lying on top of you it allowed you to scratch at his chest, another round of fiery words coming out in response to his hypocriticalness that he was the one telling you that he’d cum inside of you so much that it was incredible you hadn’t gotten pregnant, “You love it – you love – fucking me full – don’t you? You love – the idea of me – being at risk – and you do it – mmm – every single time.”

That got you a hoarse groan, Kento leaning back far away from you with a grunt and aggressively tearing off his blazer to throw into the floor where you little hat laid as well. Something about his eyes changed, his shoulders hunching forward as his hands slid down past your hips and over your thighs until he was twirling three fingers around the top of your stockings. His strokes had stopped and you had a moment of clarity not having the breath fucked out of you until he started back up again. Though that time –

Shitshitshitshitshit.

Kento had taken upon himself to use the leverage he had on your stockings to pull your body to fuck into him. The pace wasn’t as fast and desperate beforehand, but it was deep and with the hard meaning behind it thick with ferocity of what he wanted to do to you.

But really it was what you both wanted.

“Ohhhholyshit, fuck I’m gonna cum,” you wailed out throwing your head back again with a gaping mouth, legs tightening of what they could as they began to shake around his hips. There had been few times you genuinely felt like Kento was guts-deep into you, aside from always being balls deep in your pussy, and that moment as you bounced and nearly hiccupped with every tug at your thighs to let your sopping insides completely engulf his cock, you truly felt like he was in your stomach. Your cunt then was pulsing, clenching and unclenching as best as it could to all but engrave each vein and groove on his cock to the walls of you, the new pace and angle crossing and rolling your eyes back as you started to slip back down into your orgasm once more.

However, he wasn’t about to let you off for your little backtalk.

“Don’t be so coy, you like it as much as I do whenever you feel me cum inside of you,” his hold tightened as you heard parts of your stockings rip from his behavior and he began to slowly fuck back into you, meeting you thrust for thrust, “You – want – to tell me – what it is? What is it you want done to you so badly?”

Your head rolled, your pussy growing wetter and impossibly tighter at each word he groaned at you. The coil behind your naval was too hard to ignore, your mind desperately clawing to reach for it, to finally feel that sweet sense of relief, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to have it unless you told him what you wanted. He knew you were about cum, he could feel it with each stroke that you constricted around and each pant that grew louder and louder when you bucked your hips up to meet him.

You indulged him. “I want you to cum inside of me –”

Your stockings ripped more, a bell on one flying off to jingle as it rolled onto the floor. “That’s not what I want to hear.”

Everything was hot; him, his cock, you. “Fuck, just… stuff me full of your cum like I said wanted you to!”

“Tempting,” he grunted out and you watched him flick the one little bell on your stocking still, the others still jingling as the table slid in tune with his pulling, “but you can do better than that.”

You were getting frustrated; you had been denied cumming once, and with the throbbing of your clit and the ‘itch you couldn’t scratch’ feeling, you were very nearly ready to fuck into him and cum before you told him anything. However, it was the pulsing of his hot cock inside of you with each dive back into you and the edge his octave took when he spoke to you that stopped from doing so; he was close. He was close and wanted to hear what you were going to say to let himself get off and you knew he knew that him alone cumming was enough make you cum too. The feeling of his warm cum spurting out along your walls and keeping it inside of you feeling so good it made you insatiable, and you wanted so much more.

Kento’s tip was brushing against that one sensitive spot again, the area not unknown to him since he loved to fuck up into you there to have you crying and babbling for him. Your eyes rolled back a fraction and your toes curled while your nerves lit up as you grew so fucking close, the muscles in your body tensing and the awareness in your brain turning foggy while the pressure in your cunt grew tenfold and you started squeezing desperately around him. With his heavy breaths and harsh groans, you knew was getting at his limit; he was getting closer.

But you wanted it, you wanted it so damn bad that you regained a bit of clarity for a brief moment to really push at his resolve. You blinked and rolled your eyes back to him, finding his own dark eyes already watching you, then narrowing inwards as you let a lewd grin light up your face.

“It’s called breeding.”

His grip tightened.

“You have a breeding kink.”

His pace quickened; harder and faster, and you locked your ankles at his back.

“I want you to breed me, Kento.”

His nostrils flared and a hissing exhale left him, hands slamming down onto the table in favor of just fucking hard into you instead.

“C’mon, breed me.”

A long, winding groan left him as his fingers found your clit again with a deliberate rub, the rest of your plea coming off in a high-pitched whine as you starting cumming the moment you said it.

“Fuck a baby into me, Kento!”

You got the satisfaction for a brief second to watch his eyes roll back at the last words before your head lulled back from the harsh release of your orgasm. You shut your eyes as your vision had busted into shades of all colors and strong release of endorphins flooded both sides of your brain, your hips sporadically trying to grind and buck to keep up with his still thrusting body as he fucked you through and you tried to ride through it. It was useless though, the lock you had around his back breaking with your shaking legs and your trembling cunt squeezing around him to desperately keep him inside of you. Your chest heaved with the harsh breaths as you began to jerk and try to find your way back to lucidity, but you weren’t so lucky whenever you moaned aloud again when you felt him cum.

His last thrust was a harsh jab he combined with a thigh-clenching groan that slid the table and you up inches before you sighed longingly as you felt the familiar warmth of his cum spurting out inside of you. You got your wish of getting stuffed full as well, his cum almost seemingly never-ending as each sudden stab of his hips in you had another stream of it filling up your pussy. The new heat in you had you sighing once more in contentment as you felt it slowly slide down through you and pass into your womb, not doubt him fulfilling that possible useless wish of wanting him to fuck a baby into you. Kento’s thrusts finally came to still as he sat inside of you to keep any of his cum from leaking out your still convulsing cunt, only leaving you as both of your breaths finally settled into a steadier rate.

You could feel it slowly begin to slide out of your gaping hole after he carefully pulled out, almost literally feeling your body deflate and trying to push itself back into place as his cock left you in the process. But ever the man not to want to make a ‘mess’, Kento brushed the tip of himself alongside your folds to catch the cum that oozed out of you. You whimpered and gasped whenever you felt him push what had escaped you back into your sensitive pussy, a slow roll of his hips fucking his cum back into you to make sure it stayed there.

“I’m only keeping my word,” he huffed out, keeping himself busy for the moment with slow, mouthwatering rocks of his own sensitive body part to make sure you were stuffed full of his cum like you and he both wanted.

It was only a few moments of that before he stopped his rocking and he was freeing your hands of the bondage he placed on you, lifting your wrists to deliver two kisses to them until you lazily slid an arm around his neck and locked your ankles around his back again keep him snugly inside of you and to pull him on top of you again for a slow kiss.

It was a lot more sensual and chaste compared to your previous activities, all sighs and mingling breath tasting of sweet wine before you broke off and kissed at his cheek, “Thanks for the dessert.”

Kento snorted at your choice of words, wrapping his arms around your back and burying his face into your shoulder, “…We made a mess.”

“You’re telling me.”

“And I have to buy a new tablecloth.”

“And new stockings, you ripped both of them.”

“I’ll buy you the same pair –”

His hand slid down to flick at the one bell still attached to you and you giggled at his corniness whenever he whispered his next words into your ear.

"– because I like the way they jingled when I fucked you.”

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x y/n #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kasien #nanami kento x you #source: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

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ambeauty · 4 months

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Ok ok since these two cuties won’t leave me alone with their friendship 🤭 fic preview under the cut👩🏾‍🍳🧑🏼‍🍳

“Chef de Cuisine, Sydney Adamu of The Bear, has been nominated for the James Beard Award for Best New Chef, Casual Fine Dining, Midwest. As well as Executive Chef, Carmen Berzatto. Okay, it doesn’t read like that exactly, but you fucking get it.” Richie reads over the expo so the whole crew is in on what just happened.

Sydney just stands in place and Carmy wraps his arm across her shoulder for stability. Afraid she may crack into pieces or drop in shock. “You deserve it Chef,” Carmy beamed next to her.

“I couldn’t have done it without-“

“No no we are not starting that shit again. We are proud of you Syd!” He lets go so the others can give their congratulations properly.

She lifts her hands up to hide her face.

“We are mami! Bravo!” Tina reaches up for another hug and Syd tries her best not to breakdown again in her sous chef’s arms this time, but hugging Tina almost feels like hugging her mother and if she thinks to hard about it she might lose it again.

“I gotta hand it to you kid. I always knew you had it in you to get this shithole together.” Richie punches her shoulder lightly before she rolls her eyes back at him and accepts his pat on the back.

“Shit Syd, I always knew you had it in you!” Marcus daps her up then shakes her shoulder encouragingly. She can’t but share a big smile with him.

“You next Marcus! For real.” She looks up at him with assurance.

“Man that’s you and Carm all pressed for the awards and shit. As long as y’all keep letting me make whatever I want. And Carmy stops being a little bitch. We good.”

“I wish y’all would let that shit go already.” Carmy shakes his head.

“So when’s the big day?” Marcus asks them both.

“In a month.” Sydney responds rubbing her hands on her apron, ready to get back to her prep. She was not built to receive this much praise at once. Like yeah, she wanted a star and she wanted the awards, but that almost meant that she would have to be perceived more and praised more and the only person’s attention she craved she finally has… for the most part.

“We gotta get you right Syd! But we got plenty of time. Can not represent the bear in your baggy sweaters and overalls.” Marcus ribs her in a playful way.

“Dude shut up! Let’s get back to work Chefs!” Sydney calls out to the kitchen so they can get the dinner prep done before their booked night.

Yes Chef!

Carmy taps his spoon against the back of his hand as his mind starts flooding with ideas, but instead of meat, sauce, and herbs, it’s fabrics, patterns, and stitch variations. It’s long limbs but tailored to perfection around soft curves. It’s bright colors that compliment deep brown skintones.

“Carm, hey.” Sydney snaps at his face quickly. “Where’d you go? Can you pass me the strainer?”

“Yeah, sorry chef. Um just thinking.”

#sydcarmy #I’ve been working on this for a couple weeks now #how convenient is that #platonic and messy #charged and sexy #now that we’re all completely dead from the golden globes win #I figured we deserved a little treat #don’t know when this is coming out lol #sydney x carmy #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto

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writefandoms · 1 year

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Boo Boo

Adrian Tepes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: After a small fight, you two make up in the oddest of ways.

Sculpted by the gods. That’s the best way to describe the dhampir, Adrian Tepes.

He always scoffs when you say stuff like that. But the pink that dusts his pale cheeks is enough to keep the compliments flowing.

Love is a powerful word to describe your feelings for one another. Too powerful- it makes you a bit clammy thinking about it. Four letters but enough to break a person's entire being.

Adrian isn’t as in tune with his emotions as he may like to appear. Either pushing them away, or letting them devour him completely. No in between. Not the healthiest individual, but neither were you.

That’s what makes this all the more terrifying. Working to better yourselves, for each other. Wanting to be a healthier, more open minded person. Together- for each other.

It’s kind of romantic, wanting to change for the better.

Baby steps at first, beginning with drinking more water and eating healthier. Adrian constantly nags you for all the junk you eat, so you allow him to cook whatever he deems “proper cuisine”.

For Adrian, he’s working on relaxing. As bizarre as that sounds, trying to wrestle the man down for an afternoon nap is almost impossible. Now for a half hour a day, he has to either meditate or nap. No reading, or eating, or whatever mindless hobby he’s picked up. Just sitting there, alone with his thoughts.

This little self help duo you formed has been going well for the most part. Up until he showed up.

It wasn’t a big surprise when newcomers came to the little village Adrian founded. Most of them are stragglers, wandering from town to town then leaving after a few nights. And sometimes, rarely, they even come to have dinner in the castle.

He said his name was ‘Owen’, but after the stunt he pulled you’re not even sure that was his real name.

It was your idea to invite him over for dinner, after he told you a sob story about his awful travels and the loss of his parents. Pity invite, but an invite nonetheless.

“Lovely home you got.” His eyes roamed the beautiful interior.

“Thanks but it’s not mine. Adrian’s father passed it down to him.”

“You don’t say.” Even then you should have noticed his wandering eyes.

Dinner went well, he talked about his parents and seemed like a genuinely decent guy. Someone who’s had shit luck and needed to see that there was still goodness in the world.

Well that genuine nature turned out to be a load of horseshit. He wandered off to “take a leak” and you both found him in the attic, trying to swipe some magic weapons. He panicked and grabbed a nearby dagger, swinging it at you. It only nicked you but Adrian beat him to a pulp. You don’t know if the man would be alive if you weren’t there.

After kicking him out and threatening him never to return, it’s been tense between you both. He’s clearly upset but refuses to say anything. Adrian’s always been a bit cautious about inviting guests into the castle, for good reason- Dracula’s castle is known by many.

Laying back to back in the darkness of your shared bedroom is not how you wanted to spend the night. He never lays on his side, claiming it’s better for blood circulation to lay flat on your back- so you know for sure he’s angry. Plus the small dramatic sighs he keeps letting out.

“Are you gonna talk about it or keep sighing all night?” The silent treatment was not part of your self improvement journeys.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Good night.” It's curt and full of attitude.

Sitting up quickly, you look at him. He feels you shifting but makes no move to face you.

“Adrian.”

Nothing.

“Adrian, talk to me.”

Still nothing.

“Fine.”

The feeling of weight lifting off the bed has his attention, as he peeks over his shoulder to watch you grabbing your pillows.

“Where are you going?” He’s sitting up now, watching you clutch your pillow on a journey to the door.

“Sleeping in the guest room.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Adrian you’ve been an ass to me all day. You’re acting like you’re the one who got attacked!”

He looks at your wrapped forearm, sighing and laying back down.

“If you had listened to me in the first place, none of this would have happened.”

“Oh, so now you want to say shit.” Throwing the pillows at the foot of the bed, and crossing your arms. “As if you haven’t invited plenty of people over to the castle.”

“I have not.” The accusation has him sitting up on his elbows, furrowed brow.

“That couple from Lupu?”

“His wife was pregnant.”

“Those kids from Salo?”

“They were too young to be adventuring into the woods at night.”

“That cute guy from Hanna?”

“He was… very hungry.” Fumbling and struggling to keep eye contact.

“And cute.”

Adrian huffs in anger, the pout on his face would be upsetting if it weren’t so adorable.

“And now one bad apple comes through, after a couple dozen good ones.”

Crawling up the bed on all fours has him shifting up a bit. Almost like prey under a predator.

Finally stopping once you’re fully straddling his thighs, knees slightly bent making a perfect seat for your ass.

“You’re being a real arse to me, when I got a boo boo.” You hold up your arm like a wounded animal, giving a small pout.

He takes the bait and gently grasps your wrist, bringing the bandage to his lips. Ever so careful, his lips put barely any pressure on your wound.

“Perhaps…” Adrian pulls his lips away, “I have been a bit of a ‘jerk’.”

“Mmhmm.”

“How can I make it up to you?”

It’s a sweet request, pure even. He’s giving you a look filled with adoration and love. Mouth slightly agape revealing his pearly whites, two fangs one display. Cupping his cheek makes him gulp, the look in your eye making him equal parts nervous and excited.

“I can think of a few things.”

Leaning down, planting a kiss on his jawline, then along his neck, reaching his shoulder. No time to process what’s happening, you dig your teeth into the skin showing from his nightgown.

“Ah!” That cry wasn’t one of surprise, but pleasure.

“There, now we both have boo boos.” The joke doesn’t process with him, too busy panting - eyes not focused on anything.

“You okay?” His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against him. Based on the hardness pressed against your panties, he’s more than okay.

“You liked that?” He only nods, words failing.

He’s too much, and not enough. The pink flush across his cheeks, twitching between his thighs, and soft pants- wetness already damping your underwear.

Hand creeps up his back, landing snuggly in his hair at the base of his head. One small tug and he folds, granting access to the expanse of his neck. Wasting no time, you sink your teeth into the unmarked skin. Not enough to bruise, but it leaves a ring of small crescents. But that's not enough, for either of you.

One bite turns into two, then three, soon his neck is almost as pink as his cheeks. The last bit is the hardest, even when he cries out in pleasure, you don't pull away. Instead giving a small suck to the abused skin.

“Oh- ahh…” He falls back, your weight on top of him. Back of his hand flies up to his mouth, trying to silence some of the cries leaving him.

“When we agreed to try new things, I never had this in mind.”

“Quiet.” He tries to be intimidating, but fails completely.

“Seems like you’re the one making all the noise.” All it takes is small thrusts against his dick to get him squirming again.

Reaching down to rub him through the nightgown, his cock leaving a small wet patch on the fabric.

“P-please…” he whimpers, and just the desperation alone has you throbbing. “Touch me.”

“I am, pretty boy.”

“Don’t be annoying.” he glares, at least tries to. The rubbing becomes full on jerking, making his leg kick a bit. Like he’s full of energy that needs to be released somehow.

Shifting off him, and laying beside him. Pulling the gown up to reveal his muscular thighs and dripping cock. Small veins travel up the shaft, leaking pink tip revealed, twitching and begging for stimulation.

“Wanna come?” These two words have him nodding eagerly, shame is the last thing on his mind right now.

Starting to jerk him off again, and his reaction is immediate. Nothing but a jumble of ‘yes’ and ‘more’.

But once your hand slows to a complete halt, his eyes snap open, irritated.

“I was close.”

“I know.”

Moving down the bed until your mouth is by his crotch, planting a kiss on his weeping tip.

“But I wanted you to finish in my mouth…” his dick twitches, but you still ask, “Is that alright?”

To which he nods so fast he might have pulled something.

Smirking as you bring your lips back to his cock, giving the shaft a few kitten licks, gouging his reaction.

“You wanna come for me, Adrian?” Sucking on his tip, saltiness filling your mouth.

“F-fuck! Yes!” His head tosses side to side, blonde hair splayed against the pillow. Such a lovely sight.

“Good boy.”

#x reader #alucard #castlevania #alucard x reader #adrian tepes x reader #adrian x reader #adrian x female reader #female reader #castlevania smut #smut #commission

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tomorrcwz · 3 months

Text

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒, 𝐀𝐀𝟐𝟑 + 𝐆𝐑𝟔𝟑

part two

revenge always tastes better when celebrated with your right hand and his lover

warnings: mafia topics such as planned murder, coarse language, cheating on reader, unnamed fiance because I couldn't think of a fitting name, sex mentioned, sexual acts (fingering)

a whimper climbed up your throat, treating to surface into the cold air of the storage hall lined with supercars, pricey motorcycles and vintage cars, and bitter tears welled in your half closed eyes but you did remember your promise to your little self years ago that no man was granted to see them spill over, not even the man who had claimed to love you for a lifetime. alas his understanding of love was different to yours, sickly twisted — if he held the love he repeatedly said to have, why did he cozy up to a woman who wasn't you?

he knew you were a busy woman and he enjoyed the perks of your success even though he didn't exactly know what you worked as nor how much you made in a year; since the beginning of your relationship you both shared an unsaid understanding that he hadn't to task and he was absolutely fine with it. the beautiful man was more or less an armcandy, or as your right hand alex used to say your sugar babe; eventually your partner proposed which wasn't as romantic as you had hoped for but it was your fault, you could've shared that side of yourself to him.

you had been in a negotiation with leclerc, head of the monegasque mafia, aswell as verstappen and hamilton, respective heads of the dutch and british mafia when clement, your man responsible to observe certain people and media outlets, signalled you with a touch to his watch that something was up. the french leaned against the wall next to armstrong, a guy of hamilton. the pair of them were kind of friends in that sense of joining each other on social gathering, they might have fucked too because the air between them screamed like sexual tension.

as the negotiation came to an end and the tension left the room, small talkes between various people raised — only hamilton stood up, stretched his hand to each of the heads still sitting at the large wooden table, claiming he was awaited home for dinner.

after walking him out yourself and returning to you other guests you noticed the closeness between charles and max. they had a lot of history, fighting when they were under training as young boys which then blossomed into a friendship, or more. you wouldn't ask, observe their actions whilst minding your business.

you didn't sit down, letting arthur, charles' younger brother take your seat because your mind was focused on clem's new information. slowly you made your way across the room to him, coming to an halt with a raised eyebrow at the kiwi standing next to him. he nodded at you and made space so you could exchange a private moment.

"what is it, novalak?", you mumbled, eyes roaming the room.

he wordlessly gave you his phone, one you had given him specifically to research. opened was a chat between himself and one of his team, plainly showing off a series of pictues where your fiance sat with a woman on his lap in a fancy club where you once partied together. no guilt showed on his face causing your cheeks to heat up.

"that bastard."

alex, ever present, meet your eyes. the thai clearly read your expression, the embarrassment and fury printed on your face — not that anyone else could observe that as you had only pinched your eyebrows together but he knew you for a decade. there wasn't an emotion and situation he couldn't read.

clem put his phone away without commenting on the situation; he knew his place and he also knew that only alex and george were allowed to joke with you.

the rest of the day you entertained your guest, presenting them traditional cuisine and showing the eager arthur your car park. in the morning all traces of guests were gone, leaving you with your problem at hand.

tuesday arrived, the date you and your partner had set last week went painfully long and you had only one thing on your mind: murder.

"want to come over at my place?", you sweetly asked, making doe eyes at him. his once stunning blue icy eyes looked awfully disgusting, the hair too long and the beard unkempt. you didn't know what you saw in him and why you thought he'd be the right man on your side.

a cooky smirk etched on his lips as he leaned forward. "sure whenever. want daddy to fuck you good?", he whispered, trying to look seductive but failing miserably.

you stood up, hand sloting in his sweaty one, lulling him to your cherry red ferrari charles had gifted you on your birthday, claiming that it was a missing piece in your collection which in fact was true and you had happily accepted the gift.

the drive was smooth, your passenger way to concentrated on his phone to notice the new route; if you were to throw away trash than it had to happen somewhere you wouldn't have to clean up much. ideal for your plans was your car park as the ground was easy to clean; you pitied the man a bit for the trust he held in a jug to notice that his secret wasn't one anymore.

he looked up, taking in the trees aligning the narrow bumby road. "Where are we going?"

keeping the eyes on the road, your left hand touched his thigh. "Oh babe, you see I purchased a new house and I thought we could christening it", you purred. you felt his cook grow under your fingertips and smiled; he made it so easy for you, you could watch a series after the finished job.

arriving at the gates, one of your men behind the counter of the small cabin that where to your right, let you easily drive through and you ran up the car to the storage hall, parking it in its designated spot.

as soon as the motor's smooth purrs stopped, your partner opened his door, leaving you alone as he walked up to a rolls royce silver shadow. he touched the car without a thought in the word, to absorbed in a fantasy to even notice two man walking in, one opening the door of the ferrari you sat in, giving a hand to pull you out of it while the other pulled out a gun, resting it against his side.

george waited for the man to move back in the aisle; no one wanted to clean the cars and the liar wasnt worthy to leave a nasty damage in one of your cars — dennis, young mechanic and passionate car lover, would surely have your head if there was only a hair on the hood of one of them. you wouldn't want to see the norwegian truly angry, he was more on the softer side, a reason why you took him in and kept him away from the dirty business.

"why don't we fuck in one of these cars, maybe the aston, before taking it to the bedroom, sugar?", your fiance asked, turning around to walk in the middle of the aisle where you wanted him to be, gaze fixed on another supercar.

the brunette brit raised his gun, pointing it to the other man's head, blue eyes flitting to you, waiting for his timing.

you sent him a smile, relaxing the shoulders. simultaneously alex stepped up to you, one hand resting comfortably against the small of your back, resulting in you grabbing his hand and placing it lower to lay against your rear.

his eyes widened at your bold gesture; back when you were teenagers you used to fuck around but then you were appointed head of the family and the sex stopped. he pinched your ass through the silky blush coloured dress you wore before gliding down to cup your pussy which was already wet, getting a silent moan out of you.

it wasn't a normal day; you were about to see george murder your scumbag of a partner in a fitted dress pants which graced you with the delicious sight of his well trained thighs and the dark half opened shirt clung to the muscles of his back. and then there was alex, dressed the same, hair fluffy and lips slightly swollen, indicating that george must have kissed him stupid prior. you also hadn't had sex for weeks and the self love only could do so much.

all things combined you were desperate and you were ready to move onto the next man or in this case men.

"sorry mate, we already fucked in the aston", alex spoke into the silence, frightening the man. the thai pushed a finger between your plush lips, gathering the wetness on the tip to tap it against your mouth, intensly watching as you sucked his finger. your head fell onto his shoulder, eyes interlocked with his; you hallowed your cheeks and ran your tongue up and down his finger, letting him decide the pace.

"You're such a pretty little slut, y/n", he groaned.

your fiancé let out an angry scream, ready to throw his fist but he didn't get a chance to take a step. george already pulled the trigger, shoting right in the forehead.

"what an idiot", the brunette muttered. you giggled at his words, pulling alex' hand away. someone else would clean up the mess in the morning.

"you both joining me in the bedroom tonight? wanna celebrate a new chapter. "

#aa23 #gr63 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smut #alex albon x reader #george russell x reader #alex albon imagine #george russell imagine

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marvelobsessed134 · 6 months

Note

Smut of current Nikki sixx

The reader is his wife they are at dinner with Tommy Vince and their wives

Nikki can't keep his hands to himself pleasuring reader under the table with his fingers

As everyone is in conversation with each other Nikki and reader sneak off to the bathroom Nikki works his magic with his tongue and and bends reader over 🍆

Then walk of shame from the bathroom as Tommy and Vince start laughing and say you guys couldn't wait jump each others bones 🧡

Kinktober day 11: public sex

A/n: fuckin love Nikki it’s been awhile since I’ve written for him.

Pairings: Current!Nikki Sixx x Fem!Reader

Warnings: age gap, public sexual acts obvi, daddy kink because yes, Nikki is so damn horny for reader lol, dom!nikki, sub!reader, the other guys and wives poke fun at y’all, Tommy being Tommy and cheesy puns lol.

I’ve given up on summaries lol

You were sat at the dinner table after one of Mötleys shows for the world tour. Right now you’re in Mexico City, enjoying some good Mexican cuisine.

You felt Nikki’s hand trail up your leg towards your pussy and you froze for a minute, making sure everyone was distracted before you hissed, “What the hell are you doing?”

Your husband just laughed quietly and put a finger over his lips, silently telling you to be quiet. “Be a good girl for daddy ok?” He whispered in your ear causing you to shiver and goosebumps arise.

“O-ok.” You responded, and then Rain started talking to you. While yes, you are the youngest of the wives, you still get along great with them. So you tried your best to pay attention to your friends words when you felt the bassist move your panties out of the way and stick a finger into your tight hole.

“Mhmmm….yeah.” You said absentmindedly. Brittany chimed in, “Y/n? Girl, you ok?”

Your eyes widened when he rubbed his finger over your clit. That evil bastard he knows you can barely function when he does that.

“Oh-“ you cleared your throat, “I mean yeah I’m fine. I just don’t know if I’m gonna be able to eat anything my stomachs been upset.”

“Aw honey, do you feel like you’re gonna throw up?” Nikki asked with a facial expression telling you to say yes.

“Yeah. I think I should go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” You replied quickly and felt the older man’s finger slide out of you. You quickly got up and sped walked to the bathroom.

“Im gonna go check on her. Make sure she’s ok.” Your husband said before too got up and headed towards the bathroom.

“Dude…Nikki’s gonna get some!” Tommy cheered loudly and people looked at him with furrowed brows. Brittany smacked him on the arm, “No shit, don’t need to say it to the world. But yes they’re totally fucking.”

Nikki backed you up against the locked door of the singular restroom and unzipped your dress before tugging it down. Your breasts flopping out of the satin material.

“Fuck, I’m so lucky.” The bassist muttered before attaching his mouth to one of your nipples. You moaned and gasped as he nipped and bit the sensitive skin.

“Mmm, love these tits.” He muttered against you, switching sides to give the other side attention.

You threaded your fingers through his hair as you it relished in the feeling. “Fuck, daddy.”

His hand trailed back down to your clothed covered pussy and tugged your underwear down. His fingers inserted into you and you moaned. “Oh daddy, please!” You weren’t sure what you were begging for. “Yeah baby?” He teased, whispering right in your ear before nipping at your earlobe.

You sighed contently at that, “I want- I want your cock.”

“Oh yeah? You want daddys cock? I’ll give you my cock.” Nikki pulled his pants down enough so that his cock sprang out. He picked you up and you spread your legs instinctively. The raven haired man teased your entrance with his tip before inserting into you, feeling your walls clench around him.

“Holy fuck.” He breathed.

“Nikki- please move. Fuck me please.”

“Don’t worry sweetheart I will.” And he started bucking his hips into you. You moaned as he constantly hit your spot.

You clutched on his shoulders harder, nails digging into the material of his shirt. “Mmm…daddy oh my god.” You cried out as he went harder and faster.

“Quiet, we don’t want anyone out there knowing you’re being fucked like a slut now do we?” He covered your mouth as he said this and you nodded, eyes wide and watering.

Finally, you felt yourself get closer and closer to the edge before clenching around his cock your vision going white for a second as that beautifully overwhelming feeling shot through your whole body.

“Mmm- mph-“ your moans and cries were muffled by his hand, and soon enough you felt him shoot his load deep inside of you.

“Oh!” You breathed in relief.

Nikki planted a sweet kiss to your lips, “So good for me.”

The two of you got cleaned up and walked back to the table like nothing happened.

Of course, Tommy couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Y/n, are you feeling better?”

Your face went red for a bit before saying, “Yeah. It was just a little stomach bug.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it hit you hard.”

Oh god, Tommy knew. And if Tommy knew, everyone knew.

“Yeah, and Nikki came right after you.” Vince chimed in and Rain kicked him under the table. “Vinnie, not appropriate. She’s clearly embarrassed that we all know they had sex in the bathroom.”

“Oh god.” You said as you buried your face in your hands. The bassist rubbed your back soothingly, “Alright we get it. Everyone knows we fucked. Now let’s eat and forget this never happened. Tommy, say something again and I will kick your ass.”

“Yes sir.” The drummer responded with a mocking salute making everyone laugh.

#motley crue #motley crue x reader #nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mick mars #fanfic #smut #dom nikki #current nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx smut #nikki sixx x reader #motley crue smut

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sashi-ya · 4 months

Text

𝑵𝑶𝑩𝑳𝑬 𝑪𝑯𝑹𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑴𝑨𝑺 𝑫𝑰𝑵𝑵𝑬𝑹 𝐊𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐢 𝐁𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐱 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞! 𝐟! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⤹˚ synopsis. a noble woman like you have been invited to the anual christmas dinner, this time organized by the Kuchiki clan... But you aren't new to those lands, and Byakuya is a little bit weak when it comes to you ~

tw: mndi. smut. penetration. masturbation. semi public. cream pie. wc: 1,5k

Noble, refined, rich. Status. All of the things you didn’t need. Because you already have them. As equally as Mr. Kuchiki.

Your red dress, sexier than any of the rest, but still elegant caught the attention of everyone in the room. But you could only care for one just pair of dark blue eyes; Kuchiki Byakuya’s eyes.

Soft hand placed on his, sliding in glamourous style and still so full of lust.

“Welcome Miss (Name)” Byakuya salutes you, taking the back of your hand to his lips. Such action, causes little gasps around. Byakuya Kuchiki kissing a woman’s hand? What is this?

But not even him, a self-control freak, could resist the enchantment of you.

“Thank you, Kuchiki-san. I am glad this year it was you who were in charge of organizing the Christmas Noble Night” you whisper, coming closer to his face… oh so dangerously close, with bold bloody lips tinted in carmine hues.

Byakuya swallows. His motions seem to become slow, slower. Nothing but your seductiveness occupies his mind, fogging his judgement, making him extremely sensitive.

“It’s a pleasure to have you here” “The pleasure is mine…”

You walk past him, letting your hair play like a hypnotizing pendulum barely covering your exposed back. Byakuya’s eyes fix on the small of it, already imagining a thousand ways of kissing your skin.

After you have successfully asserted dominance over every little noble, it’s time to sit down at a fine, and full of food, table.

You sit in your spot, especially chosen to be right in front of the host and wait for Byakuya to arrive at the dining room.

Every low-grade noble woman awaits for his presence with great enthusiasm, even if they know he is a man of a single woman. However, every rule has always a certain exception…

As he enters everybody shuts up. His formal attire, a dark green kimono with gold details, flashes before the eyes of hungry singles. His hair, as always so silky and beautiful, flows with every step he takes, properly fixed into his Kenseikan. And his eyes, as always looking like a dark spring night, scan quickly the room before falling upon your imagery.

“Thank you all for coming tonight, I hope you enjoy” he announces, as always short and to the point. Byakuya will never rumble, Byakuya will never speak a single word more than what it should be pronounced.

He sits down and as he does, you cross your legs in such way that the high cut of your dress slides enough to let him see everything he was hoping for you to show.

Byakuya’s gaze changes from a severe to a troubled one; his gloved hands slide down his lap… there is probably something he needs to make sure it isn’t showing.

However, the seductive dance of courtship isn’t over. In fact, it is barely starting.

The first plate is served, on extremely fine tableware on top of silver plates. A assorted pieces of Sashimi await to be devoured. Like you wait to devour him, soon. Quick… faster.

You notice the noble man constantly -and rather notoriously- peaking at you, trying to know of every single thing you do. And as the long tradition in Japanese cuisine marks, you use your own hands to eat the pieces of Sushi. The juiciest one, sexily kisses your lips with salty taste. A little drop of sauce pulling on the middle of your lower lip, inviting a voyeuristic Byakuya to fix his gaze in them.

Ginrei-sama, Byakuya’s grand father and ex head clan, notices how lost in lust his grandson looks and decides it’s time to wake him up.

“Byakuya, pay a visit to the rest room. You are making a bad impression. You are visibly flustered, kid” Ginrei whispers, breaking Byakuya’s fantasy.

He immediately widens his eyes; now the embarrassment is too high for him. He debates himself whether to deny the allegations; to assert his dominance by mentioning he is the head of the clan now… but he choses to stay silent; his grandfather is right.

You notice, smirking ever so softly. There is something so beautiful about a needy man unable to control his own desires…

He excuses himself and stands up. Visibly annoyed, but still acting to supress any type of emotions he turns around and disappears into an endless hall of the Kuchiki manor.

Of course, it wouldn’t be proper to stand up and go behind him immediately… even if you would love to show the rest who has more rights over him than anyone else in there.

By the time the dessert is served and finished, Byakuya hasn’t came back. And that could only mean two things; either he is not willing to get tempted in public again, or he is waiting for you. In any case, both only lead to one single solution…

When everybody is a little bit dizzy from alcohol and good food, you quickly escape the place. You don’t need nobody telling you how to find him, you know the place very well.

And right where you knew he would be, you find him. Byakuya’s nose points to a snowy moon, with his body bent over the railing of his room’s balcony. You can’t see him, as he is facing the vast gardens of now wintery dried cherry blossoms and endless pristine snow.

You walk slowly towards him, taking your heels out before stepping into the deck of his balcony. You can subtly hear soft pants coming from his beautiful lips.

“Just as I thought, you can’t resist yourself no more… right, Bya-kun?” you ask, whispering and surrounding his body from behind towards his waist.

In between his delicate hands, his hard sex. Dripping precum, desperate to be touched, to be relieved. Warm skin you reach that contrasts with the cold breeze of a silent night.

He can’t speak. In his eyes, aside from lust is relief… you have arrived, his helper, the woman that brought back his masculinity is there for him.

You kiss his shoulder, surrounding his shaft with delicacy and yet very firmly.

“Were you waiting for me, Bya-kun?” you ask, sliding your free hand up his cold belly. “For how long have you been this hard?”

“Si-since you arrived… no, even before” he stutters; how strange it is to see this facet of such a serious man. So needy…

You begin to pump his dick, jacking off to drain every drop of seed out of his impassioned body. His legs quiver just a little, one of his hands grab the one you have on his lower belly, and his lips separate enough to let low grunts escape.

“You are so hard already, how would you like to cum… Bya-kun?” you ask, biting the lobe of his ear.

He shivers, letting his body succumb to blinding passion for just a little bit before ripping the kenseikan holding his hair up… Byakuya has lost control, and he is allowed now to do so.

The metallic piece falls into the deck, with such strength that reverberates and creates echoes on the now -hopefully- empty garden underneath.

He turns around, dominantly stopping your masturbating hands.

“Inside. Of. You.” He assures, lifting you by your legs and sitting you over the railing of his balcony.

You let a soft gasp out; even now, when you think you have control… you were so absolutely wrong.

His lips crash against yours, kissing you so concupiscently. Giving you the right to shut up and get violated by a tongue desperate to taste yours.

Byakuya rips the red fabrics of your dress; the sound of the sewing stretching gets covered by panting and whining. Long slender fingers, as soft as silk, discover with great surprise there are no panties covering your wet sex.

“Always so slutty, aren’t you? Always ready for me to fuck you” he murmurs, muzzled by your desirable trembling lips.

“Always, Bya-kun… ngh…” you whine, as he doesn’t wait much time and you immediately get impaled by his hardness.

Pulling from his lower lip, you let him destroy you with heavy thrusts and unmatched technique.

An exquisite increasing rhythm, and your legs snaked around his waist. Pants, whines, and grunts devoured by each other’s mouths. Curled toes, hair flowing on the edge of glory, mounting such a spectacle that can be seen by anyone who decides to pay a visit to the Kuchiki gardens…

The icy cold of Christmas does nothing to your body, the warm embrace of the captain of the sixth division keeps you hot enough. His teeth that sometimes travel to your hard nipples, biting on them, sucking on them.

Your head thrown back, your hands caressing and sometimes pulling form his beautiful onyx hair. To see his eyes fixing in yours while he pounds you, while he pull from your nipples… what a Christmas miracle, what a good present to receive on such a holly night.

Byakuya’s hand reach for the small of your back, once and for all. Pressing against his crotch, he has you trapped. With your back a little bent towards the abbys, and his mouth on your neck, you can feel against your walls the throbbing sensation of his sex. Your spasming walls, milking it harder, reaching climax, aching to be bathed by the Kuchiki descendance.

“Here, now… here is where I wanna cum… Inside you… now, and fo-forever” Byakuya growls. “Forever, you say? Please, do… Bya-kun. Merry Christmas, sweetheart~”

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