#learned my lesson from trying to learn french

[allinllachuteruteru]

Duolingo is NOT what it used to be.

“Duolingo is ‘sunsetting the development of the Welsh course’ (and many others)”.

I’ve used Duolingo since 2013. It used to be about genuinely learning languages and preserving endangered ones. It used to have a vibrant community and forum where users were listened to. It used to have volunteers that dedicated countless hours and even years to making the best courses they could while also trying to explain extremely nuanced and complex grammar in simple terms.

In the past two years it feels like Von Ahn let the money talk instead of focusing on the original goal.

No one truly had a humongous problem with the subscription tier for SuperDuolingo. We understood it: if you can afford to pay, help keep Duolingo free for those who couldn’t.

It started when the company went public. Volunteers were leaving courses they created because they warned of differing longterm goals compared to Duolingo’s as a company; not long after it was announced that the incubator (how volunteers were able to make courses in the first place) would be shut down. A year goes by and the forums—the voice of the users and the way people were able to share tips and explanations—is discontinued. A year or two later, Duolingo gets a completely new makeover—the Tree is gone and you don’t control what lesson you start with. With the disappearance of the Tree, all grammar notes and explanations for courses not in the Big 8 (consisting of the courses made before the incubator like Spanish/French/German/etc. and of the most popular courses like Japanese/Korean/Chinese/etc.) are removed with it. Were you learning Vietnamese and have no idea how honorifics work without the grammar notes? Shit outta luck bud. Were you learning Polish and have absolutely no clue how one of the declensions newly thrown at you functions? Suck it up. In a Reddit AMA, Von Ahn claims that the new design resulted in more users utilizing the app/site. How he claims that statistic? By counting how many people log into their Duolingo account, as if an entire app renovation wouldn’t cause an uptick in numbers to even see what the fuck just happened to the courses.

Von Ahn announces next in a Reddit AMA that no more language courses will be added from what there already is available. His reasoning? No one uses the unpopular language courses — along with how Duolingo will now be doing upkeep with the courses already in place. And here I am, currently looking on the Duolingo website how there are 1.8 million active learners for Irish, 284 thousand active learners for Navajo, and even 934 thousand active learners for fucking High Valyrian. But yea, no one uses them. Not like the entire Navajo Nation population is 399k members or anything, or like 1.8 million people isn’t 36% of the entire population of Ireland or anything.

And now this. What happened to the upkeep of current courses? Oh, Von Ahn only meant the popular ones that already have infinite resources. Got it. Duolingo used to be a serious foundational resource for languages with little resources while also adding the relief of gamification.

It pisses me off. It really does. This was not what Duolingo started out as. And yea, maybe I shouldn’t get invested in a dingy little app. But as someone who spent most of her adolescence immersed in language learning to the point where it was literally keeping me alive at one point, to the point where languages felt like my only friend as a tween, and to the point where friendships on the Duolingo forums with likeminded individuals my age and other enthusiasts who even sent me books in other languages for free because they wanted people to learn it, the evolution of Duolingo hits a bitter nerve within me.

~End rant.

#duolingo #langblr #huge language rant feel free to skip #evolution of duolingo #luis von ahn #duolingo welsh course #language learning

[queenerdloser]

okay i genuinely love traveling alone bc it means i can do shit like spend my entire vacation eating food i want, meandering into shops and shrines at my leisure, sitting in parks and reading, and doing karaoke every night for an entire week. like. if i was with someone i would feel far more pressure to do a bunch of touristy stuff and “make an experience” or w/e (and tbf i do kind of feel like that for this trip since several people were like “show me pictures when you get back!” not knowing i am The Worst at vacation pictures since i dont do selfies and i take pictures purely to appease Myself) but it’s also like... this is my vacation. i’m here on my own. so yeah, i am going to take a siesta in the middle of the day in my hotel, i am going to do two hours of karaoke, i am going to go visit the shrine i love and just wander around. and bc i’m alone, i dont have to justify that to anyone or accommodate anyone else’s desires and frankly it’s the best feeling in the world. everyone should travel internationally by themselves at least once if they have the money/time bc then maybe less people would double take or act like i murdered a kitten when i tell them i prefer it. 

#liveblogging life #everyone when i told them i was going back to japan: you're traveling BY YOURSELF?????????? #me: yes. i often do. #them: BY YOURSELF????? YOU DONT HAVE FRIENDS THERE?????? WHAT???? #idk why it's so shocking but i usually travel alone & it always shocks people #and then they like... try to talk me out of it??? or get relieved when i tell them i will meet up with people #idk what to tell you but honestly more people could stand to try being alone sometimes #anyway all this 2 say that i booked a reservation to do 2 hours of karaoke tonight and im jazzed #and today i a) ate some great french toast b) wandered around the imperial castle grounds and read my book #c) got rained on lol #d) ran into a high school marching band????? #e) karaoke and f) okonomiyaki for dinner #that's it!!! that's my day!!!! and to be frank it was better than yesterday where i was running around all day #trying to see The Sights and take pictures before i left tokyo for good #i have a blister from it :(((( #learned my lesson i will no longer care about having Good Trip Pictures and will instead focus on wringing enjoyment #from every last second of my time in japan

[landofgay]

I know I should Actually Learn Spanish since I am Going To Mexico.... but gosh it is not a language that I find intuitive

#i know its cause im used to french #and i just dont have a lot of exposure to spanish!! you dont come across it as often in canada #and i never picked up more than the very very basic stuff from american tv when theyd use spanish #so i just. its not clicking for me #but I ACTUALLY NEED TO LEARN IT ITS NOT A HYPOTHETICAL TRIP I AM GOING TO MEXICO SHSJDHDKNF #and i feel very strongly about if youre goung to a country where you dont speak the language u could MAKE AN EFFORT #cause its rude otherwise!!! #but gosh i cant even get past the basic lessons #i guess that's my other problem i gotta get past the first couple Duolingo lessons #and stupid rosetta stone focuses on pronunciation which is probably smart since i need to work on actually speaking the languages #that I'm trying to learn #but also i dont like speaking outloud in my room alone ??? idk HSJDHDJ argh!!!!

[bidisastersanji]

Was thinking about French gendered terms and Zoro trying to suss out if Sanji’s into men and I had some thoughts and oops now i wrote a thing so here you go:

In the early days Zoro drives himself nuts trying to figure out if Sanji bats for his team too or not. He listens in intently whenever the conversation steers the cook towards talk of his past dalliances, but, just his luck, none of the words used indicate their gender. And there ain’t no fucking way in hell he’s asking him or anyone on the crew directly, lest they immediately understand how bad he has it for the stupid cook.

He bides his time, surely someday he’ll slip up and mention something about the people he’s slept with, right? And sure enough one day, at a feast, a drunken Usopp starts asking what people’s types are. His face still schooled into a nonchalant, neutral expression, he does his best to hide how desperately he waits for Sanji to speak up about his type, only to once again be met with more general terms about people- someone with a kind heart, dependable, an equal… he’s so concentrated on trying to pick out any gendered terms he doesn’t notice the weird look Nami throws his way at each new descriptor in Sanji’s list of desirable traits.

He’s always known Sanji speaks French, finding it endearing whenever the cook curses (even at him), whenever he goes into small little rants to himself, or the face he makes when he can only think of a word in French, rapidly snapping his fingers until it comes back to him. But it’s only when they get to a town where Sanji starts speaking to a vendor excitedly about his produce that he realizes just how much this thing, this endearing thing that’s always been there, truly affects him, and his face burns at how different the cook’s voice sounds when he actually speaks it, how enchantingly low and throaty the foreign syllables ring in his ears.

Attached to living another day, he decides that stealing a book from Robin is a bad idea, and resigns himself to ask her directly for a favour. He swallows his pride and asks if she can lend him a French learning book and a dictionary, curious as to whether he can learn it a bit, and understand whatever the hell Sanji keeps cursing and muttering about around him, and what kinds of insults he’s been throwing his way. With her ever mysterious smile plastered on her face, a chain of Robin’s arms retrieve two books from her library and hand them to him. “Do come to me if you have any questions, Mr. Swordsman. My French is pretty good if I do say so myself.”

He’s out of the room, red as a beet, before she even finishes that sentence.

Learning the curse words comes to him unsurprisingly quickly given how often he hears a litany of « putain de merde », « fait chier! » and « enfoiré! » spilling from the blonde’s distracting mouth.

He’s very happily surprised when he learns that French is apparently a heavily gendered language- and that he can glean someone’s gender just from whether the adjectives applied to the subject are masculine or feminine. Now if the stars aligned and the cook would talk about his love life in French…

Zoro starts by going through the basic first chapters, taking great pains to hide and quickly dissimulate it in his haramaki anytime someone walks in on him- especially the witch. It definitely changes his usual routine on his watch in the crows nest, he muses to himself.

Weeks, months pass, and he advances further in the lessons, his vocabulary slowly growing, while he often goes to his dictionary for the more… colorful insults Sanji throws his way. He never says a word of French himself, not knowing how he could even justify knowing any without looking suspicious, and pretty sure his pronunciation would be way off anyways. But he starts to really enjoy it, being able to understand even a tenth of the things Sanji thinks he can say without the crew (save Robin) understanding.

And then Saobaody happens. And now he doesn't have time to think about learning French, not if he wants to get strong enough. Not if he wants to protect his crew.

He's at the table with Mihawk and Perona when his mentor asks for the salt (Passez moi le sel, s'il vous plait), and he executes himself without thinking. A quiet settles over the room and he looks up to see those intense red eyes boring into him, unnerving as ever.

"You speak French?"

"Not really," he grumbles, not wanting more excuses to think of the shitty cook, and his shitty cooking, and his stupid curly brow.

"Then you will. Consider this a natural continuation of my trying to beat some manners into your brutish mind."

Two years later, and he can't wait for dartbrow to show up. His pronunciation may still be shit, but he can't wait to use his newfound skill to his advantage.

With his now solidified grasp of the language, he slowly begins to understand that what he at first though was a mistake on his part- that he must’ve missed a part of a sentence, or mixed up some words- was not an error at all. It turns out, some of the French things that Sanji yells at him aren’t insults at all.

In fact… they’re sometimes downright complimentary.

And that's definitely a problem for Zoro, who now not only needs to keep pretending that he doesn’t know what Sanji is saying, but needs to pretend he doesn’t understand it when Sanji screams at him that he has a “stupidly pretty face” or that his “tits are even bigger than Nami’s and how is that even fair” . He doesn't know what to make of it.

And then one day… the stars align.

It’s another post battle party, and the cook has been drinking a bit more than usual, a tightly gripped glass of wine in his left hand, a cigarette in his right. Zoro is nursing his very own barrel of Ale when he hears the conversation turn to more gossipy topics, as it usually does the further into the night they are.

“Chopper was really into that nurse on Zou, wasn’t he?” Usopp starts to poke fun at the crew’s youngest member, laughing as the reindeer turns all red and tries to deny it.

“I mean it makes sense that she’d be his type! Right Nami?”

Nami nods at him, grinning wickedly. “Yeah, not all of us can be into rich little blonde girls can we?”

“You’re right, some of us are into rich blue-haired princesses,” he shoots back.

"At least I had the balls to do something about it before I left her island-"

Zoro is already tuning them out when Sanji sits down next to Robin just a few feet away, across from him and the campfire, his tongue loosened from a few too many refills and unconsciously reverting to his native tongue.

"Ils ont de la chance, ces deux là." he gestures to Usopp and Nami. (They're lucky, these two.)

Robin smiles at the cook, wordlessly prompting him to continue his thoughts.

"Qu'est ce que je donnerais pour pouvoir avoir quelque chose de plus qu'un coup d'un soir." Sanji sighs wistfully, lighting his cigarette. (What I wouldn't give to have something more than a one night stand.")

Robin chuckles. "Ne sont-ils pas satisfaisants?" (Are they not satisfying?)

At this point Zoro has tuned everything out, intensely focused on hearing what the blonde has to say, and not at all feeling a small churn of jealousy in his stomach for whoever shared Sanji's bed. His heart initially skips a beat at the plural masculine pronoun ('ils') used by Robin before remembering its actual neutrality in this context, as it's referring to the ""one night stands", a masculine word. Damnit. French is so dumb.

"Tu sais bien que je ne dirais jamais de mal à propos des belles demoiselles qui ont bien voulu m'accorder ne serait-ce qu'un baiser ou une étreinte. J'ai de la chance rien que d'avoir pu exister en leur présence."

(You very well know I'd never say a bad word about any of the beautiful ladies who've been kind enough to give me even a kiss or an embrace. I'm lucky just to have existed in their presence.)

Zoro feels his heart drop, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach. He's always known the pervert cook has been into women. Why was this confirmation hitting him the way it was? His eye darts up at his two crewmates, confirming that only Robin has noticed his eavesdropping. She opens her mouth to say something but Sanji continues, the glow of the flames dancing against his flushed skin beautifully.

"Et dans mon état normal tu sais que, par respect pour les sensibilités d'une dame, je ne te divulge pas beaucoup de détails sur ceux qui font l'affaire le temps d'une nuit. "

(And in my normal state you know that, out of respect for a lady's sensibilities, I don't divulge many details about those who do the trick for a night.)

Ceux. That's a masculine word for "those", isn't it? Zoro shakily takes another sip of his drink.

The archeologist's smile widens. "Oh, ne te fait pas de soucis pour mes sensibilités. Je brûle d'envie d'en savoir plus, et ne m'épargne pas les détails..."

(Oh, please don't worry about my sensibilities. I'm burning to know more, and don't spare me the details...)

"Je ne suis que ton humble serviteur...si ça peut te faire plaisir" (I'm but your humble servant…if it pleases you). Sanji's cheeks seem a tad more flushed than before. "En vrai ce n'est pas qu'ils ne sont pas satisfaisants...c'est qu'il ne sont jamais... assez."

(It's not that they're not satisfying…it's that they're never...enough.)

"Ah? Et que recherches tu? Qu'est ce qui serait..."assez"?"

(Ah? And what are you looking for? What would be… "enough"?)

The cook exhales another cloud of smoke, and nervously looks around. His eyes settle on Zoro, and indecision flits across his eyes for a second before continuing. Zoro can feel his gaze, can almost make out the deliciously unfocused expression on the blonde's face in his peripheral vision as he continues speaking French. His heart feels like it might beat out of his ribcage.

"Lui." (Him.)

Zoro forgets how to breathe.

Part 2 up now , and part 3 part 4

#zoro x sanji #zosan #zosan fic #this was SUPPOSED TO BE A LITTLE TEXT POST #and then #AND THEN THIS HAPPENED #should I continue this #let me know in the tags #sanji x zoro #i can say french is dumb because i am #i have so many more thoughts about french speaking sanji #share yours with me pleaaaseee #zoro learns French #zoro learns french fic

[thatsdemko]

drunk on you - l.hamilton

masterlist

requested: y

pairings: lewis Hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol + lewis being a simp + established relationship

a/n: I didn’t touch on all of your request I apologize :/. feedback is appreciated xx my requests are currently open!

you’re one that usually can handle their alcohol. meaning, you know when enough has been enough, but tonight? that’s not the case.

the Australian Grand Prix was a rollercoaster ride. red flags, crashes, and penalties some how all came to an end. Lewis got on the podium at third overall, but George, his teammate, gave you all quite the scare. it’s partially why you’re drinking, the cars go so fast you have no time to tell who’s in there. part of you thought it was lewis, and part of you was just praying whoever was in the car was safe. to your luck, George was safe, but that didn’t stop the alcohol from flowing.

lewis has been with you for many years. he can recall your drunk nights in a hotel room helping you change, making you drink water. he thoughts those days were behind you, and you learned your lessons. tonight’s a whole other story.

he watches you sway to the beat of the music with Carmen, one hand grips her waist and the other is carelessly swinging your fourth drink of the night. lewis has already paid his tab, it’s George’s who keeps the bottle service flowing.

you and Carmen are both stumbling over each other, bodies nearly pressed against each other holding on for dear life. lewis finally gives in, unable to watch you struggle anymore, he taps you on the shoulder. your lazy eyes flash at him, crooked drunk smile, you’re so happy to see him even though he’s been there the whole time.

“lew, baby! you wanna dance?” you remove your hand from Carmen’s waist, stumbling into Lewis. lucky that he’s got a great reaction time, he catches you, hands gripping your waist. you’re peppering his face with kisses, drunk mumbles of incoherent words under the loud music and slurred speech.

“I think we need to go home.” he suggests, hand caressing your cheek. as much as one loves watching their significant other dance freely and make sour faces while taking shots, lewis knows you’re beyond wasted and it’s time to head back. you’ve got an early flight back to London, and he wants to help sober you up for the night.

“boo!” Carmen shouts in Lewis’ face, you nod with her giving the same chant, and he laughs. he’s not sure how he used to do this, he wasn’t sure how he ever persuaded you.

“we can order ice cream? maybe some fast food?” he suggests, it’s not up his alley, but watching your face light up to the idea of ice cream and a treat that’s not vegan makes you nod eagerly.

“is there a McDonald’s?” you ask, drool nearly slipping down your lips at the thought of chicken nuggets and French fries. he chuckles wiping his thumb across your plumped pink lips.

he takes his arm, wrapping it around your waist, and helps you maneuver your way out the club. when you finally step foot into the warm Australian air, there’s a car waiting for you both to take you home. of course, holding his promise he redirects the driver to the nearest McDonald’s.

“I love you.” you rest your head against his shoulder watching him take the greasy brown bag from the driver. he feeds you a couple of fries, you’re practically munching his fingers off you didn’t realize just how hungry you were.

“just two seconds ago you and Carmen were mad at me.” he chuckles, smile appearing on his face you feel your heart nearly trying to throb its way out of your chest. god, that man beside you was like made from heaven.

“when a vegan gets someone McDonald’s you’re bound to love them.” you happily sigh prying your hands into the bag, rustling around to find a loose fry in the bag. he’d do anything for you, if you asked him to eat a hamburger that’s pure beef, he’d probably do it. only for you.

the driver lets you both know you’ve arrived, and Lewis generously tips the man for going out of his way. of course he takes a photo with him before calling it a night, and the two of you are in the hotel elevator while you shovel fries into your face.

when you get in the room Lewis is helping you take off your heels, and when they finally come off you exhale a loud sigh sauntering freely towards the bed where you allow him to help you slip out of your dress— still attempting to eat your McDonald’s in the process.

“will you still kiss me if I eat these?” you hold up the box of six chicken nuggets, he gets a whiff of the smell, nose scrunching but he nods pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“go ahead, eat.” he lays clothes out for you to change into, right now you’re just in a bra and spandex sprawled across the bed eating. he thinks it’s cute and a little bit funny, that when you’re so drunk you’ve lost all manners. you’re truly a whole other person.

he goes in the bathroom and changes, by the time he’s done getting ready for bed, he has a glass of water for you and you’ve already put on one of his shirts and his sweatpants. why did he ever think you’d want to wear your own clothes?

“drink this for me please. you’ll thank me later.” he hands you the glass, your hands wrapping it around it like a little kid, you tilt your head back chugging until it’s empty.

“that wasn’t vodka.” you frown feeling it wash down like normal, no burn or itch against your throat.

“sorry to disappoint.” he laughs watching you curl into the bed, forgetting all other aspects of your nightly routine, the sleepiness was finally taking over you.

“I would’ve preferred it to have been vodka.”

“come on, we still have skincare to do then we can go to bed.”

#lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton drabble #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton #f1 driver x you #mercedes amg f1 #f1 driver x reader #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you

[demetris-cocksleeve]

(A/n: Disclaimer- I don't know French; I took Mandarin in high school instead lmao. I asked my sister who took it (she failed but google wasn't helping😂) and she said to default to the male version of ma chère/mon cher if the gender isn't stated, so blame her if it's wrong lol)

Word Count: 1,724

Summary- Everyone knows that some actions are just objectively more attractive than others. But which of these actions represent the brothers?

Warnings: Allusions to spicy moments in Mammon's, Asmo's and Belphegor's

Age Rating: Pg 13

Obey Me Brothers x Things That Are Attractive

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

Lucifer as- Pulling you in by the waist:

"There you go. Just like that." Lucifer guides.

"I feel ridiculous," you say as you step to the side with your right foot and slide the left back into position.

He had taken it upon himself to teach you how to dance. Which, on the surface isn't bad in itself, but when you dig a little deeper and find the two left feet you were 'blessed' with, it becomes slightly more daunting.

"You don't look it," He assures you as he leads you through an improvised spin.

Coming back in, your hands find their place on his shoulders as you waltz around the empty ballroom. He dips you low, arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you upright once more. Though, instead of resuming the steps, Lucifer keeps you in place; his arm tightening around you until what little space between you is gone.

Your hands are pinned against his chest as you look up to him. There's a look in his eyes that you can't quite decipher, and you don't know if you should try to.

"Despite your self-acclaimed 'two left feet', I think it's safe to say you have successfully learned the waltz." You can feel his minty breath fan your face with how close his is.

"What a shame," you tease. "Looks like you won't be needing to teach me anymore."

You earn a soft 'hah' as he leans impossibly closer with a smirk that shouldn't have you feeling the way you do. "On the contrary. You'll be learning the Salsa next."

-

Mammon as- Pinning your hands above your head:

"No!" You yell as you're knocked down.

"Gotcha!" Mammon cheers as he reaches for your phone.

He has you on the bed, legs on either side of you as he attempts to get rid of the picture of him sleeping.

"C'mon! You look so cute in it!" Your attempt to reason falls on deaf ears as he fails to snatch your phone again.

"I'm literally droolin' ya dummy!"

In a last-ditch attempt to preserve the photo, you stretch your arm above your head as his grapples you for it.

The end result is both your wrists in one of Mammon's hands as his other works on deleting the picture. He tosses the phone to the side once he's done.

"You learn your lesson yet? Don't mess with The Great Mammon!" He smirks down at you, chest heaving from exertion.

The sight of you pinned under him, hands held above your head as you look up at him has him gulping. His free hand comes up to grip the side of your jaw, tilting your head up just the slightest.

"I think I should make sure ya learned yer lesson~"

-

Leviathan as- Spinning hugs:

"Yes!" Leviathan cheers from beside you as the monster finally falls after what seems like hours.

He had called you to his room to help with a level of a new game he got. What he didn't tell you was that it was the final boss, and it was only a P1 game.

So, without any introduction or in-depth explanation you were thrust into an insanely difficult level. If you're being honest, you were kind of just spamming the controller and hoping for the best. What you didn't expect was actually making progress and killing the damned thing.

Levi jumps up as he celebrates. You can't help but laugh at his antics as you're pulled to join him. Deciding there's no harm -you're in his room with the door shut, who's gonna see?- you play along. Cheering and jumping alongside him.

You let out a yelp as he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up. Your yelp turns to laughter when he twirls you around before nuzzling into your neck.

"I can't believe you actually did it! I've been trying to beat that thing for days!" He's quick to pull you into a kiss, face bright red when you separate. Your foreheads rest together as any residual laughter fades.

-

Satan as- Lifting you to reach something:

"Satannnnnn!" You whine. "I need helppppp!"

You can hear his unamused sigh from a couple sections down.

"What could you possibly need help with? We're in the library for hell's sake..." His voice gets steadily closer as he makes his way to the bookshelf you're in front of.

He rounds the corner to see you on your tiptoes as you try to reach a book. You look to him for help but only receive a deadpan.

"Really?" He crosses his arms. "There is literally a step ladder 10 feet from you."

"Yeah, but now you're only 4 feet from me."

Satan turns to walk away but you're quick to grab his arm.

"Please? You and I both know that with my luck, I'll probably fall off the thing." You both know the only reason is because you want to annoy him.

"Not my problem." He starts to walk again, only this time you rush in front of him.

"But books read better when they're from you." You got a small huff of amusement so that's something.

"Do they now?" Wow, he's actually playing along.

"Yup," you nod as believable as you can.

There's a second of silence before he breaks. "Fine. Which one do you want?"

Dragging him over, you expect him to reach up and snag the title off of the shelf. What actually happens is that he places both hands on either side of your waist and lifts you until you're eye level with the book.

Shaking off the shock, you quickly grab it before he decides to drop you.

"Thanks," You mutter when he sets you down, face hot both with embarrassment and at the display of strength.

Satan simply hums in acknowledgment as he walks away, leaving you standing clutch your book to your chest.

-

Asmodeus as- Neck/jaw kisses:

"Darling~" Asmo drawls from his bed, head hanging off the side to look at you.

"Yes?" You sigh as he drones for your attention for the nth time.

You need to get this essay done before tomorrow, but the Avatar of lust doesn't want to make it that easy for you. When he had invited you to his room to 'study' you should have seen through the fib but you hadn't. So here you are, stuck trying to get work done with a perpetually horny demon vying for your attention.

"I'm bored, mon cher." He rolls off the bed and hangs himself on you, arms over your shoulders, chest against your back and chin resting on your shoulder.

"And I'm trying to finish this."

"C'mon..." His head lifts from its position to nuzzle into your neck. "You're not the least bit tempted to take even the smallest of breaks?"

His soft lips graze your skin with each syllable. A feather light, kiss presses itself against the column of your neck.

"Asmo, I really need to work on this..." Despite your words, your head still lilts to the side allowing him to trail his kisses up to your jaw.

"You know you want to~" Asmodeus chimes, voice sending vibrations through you. "Take a break." He presses another kiss to your jaw.

"Just for a few minutes..." Another kiss.

"Ugh." You move to save your progress. "Fine. 15 minutes and then I get back to work."

"That's all I need, my dear." You can hear the smirk.

-

Beelzebub as- Licking something off their finger:

"You can't eat that, yet!" You cackle as Beelzebub sticks his finger in the cake batter.

"But it looks good..." He's looking at you, finger still in the mixing bowl. You can't help the face you make when he says that. The sugar hasn't even been added yet, there's no way it would taste good.

You tell him so, only to receive silence as he takes his finger out and slowly moves it to his mouth.

"That's just going to taste like flour and eggs, Beel." You try to reason.

He looks you right in the eye as his lips close around his batter-covered digit. Beelzebub keeps looking at youas he sucks the liquid off his finger. With a *pop*, his finger comes out clean and it's all you can do to not grimace at what the taste must be.

"It's good." He says.

Beel dips his finger in the batter once more, only to hold it out to you. "Taste it."

The corners of your mouth pull down as you lean away. "I think I'm good, actually."

"Humor me?"

He's holding your gaze as he continues to offer the batter to you. Looking between his finger and face, you concede. He'll just keep trying until you taste it, so you say:

"Fine, but I'm not swallowing it."

With that you grab his wrist to stabilize as you tentatively lick at the batter. Surprisingly, it's not bad -Beel must have added the sugar when you weren't looking. Upon seeing your reaction, Beelzebub pushes his finger to your lips.

Deciding it's easier to just play along, you let the digit enter, maintaining eye contact. Your tongue swirls around the digit, getting all of the batter off.

With one final suck, he slides his finger out of your mouth, fingertip resting against your lip before dropping and pulling your bottom lip with it a bit as it goes.

The kitchen is silent as you hold his heavy gaze.

-

Belphegor as- Lazy morning make outs:

Your lips slot together slow and steady in the bath of golden light that is Belphegor's bed.

Both of you had just woken and, in an attempt to neither wake up or slip back into the sweet embrace of sleep (damned RAD classes...), you'd somehow found yourselves lip locked.

Your legs are tangled under the blankets as the two of you move in sync. Nothing else important enough to draw your attention away from the other.

His hand is in your hair, keeping you close as he bites on your bottom lip. The noise you let loose enough for him to make it his mission to drag more sweet sounds from you. Your own hands come up to push on Belphegor's chest to until he's lying on his back with you laying on top of him. His other arm slides up your back, a grunt leaving his lips when you roll your hips down.

"Fuck-"

A knock interrupts your moment.

"Get up. You're not going to be late again." Lucifer's voice is muffled by the door, but it doesn't lessen just how over everything he sounds.

#lucifer x mc #mammon x mc #leviathan x mc #satan x mc #asmodeus x mc #beelzebub x mc #belphegor x mc #obey me x reader

[thespineoftherighteous]

more more more more aftg show bloopers (p 4?? I think?) whoop whoop de fuckin whoop

Neil's actor being a huge Duolingo dork and in the behind the scenes while the other actors are fooling around between takes you can often see him with his head bent and hear the little 'ping!'s coming from his phone

also during late night shoots, as it gets closer to midnight he always has a point where he's like SHIT my Duolingo streak. and then just blocks out everyone while his fingers fly over his screen

(fans make compilations of him proudly showing his Duolingo streak to the camera and the number grows as the seasons progress)

(he definitely is the kinda bitch who cares more about maintaining the streak than actually learning languages)

actually omg while we're on the topic of languages

Kevin's actor tenderly reciting his French lines to Matt's actor and Matt's actor is just smitten. and he goes "say something else, love" and Kevin's actor strokes his cheek while saying another one of his lines and Matt swoons

(then Kevin's actor turns to the camera and goes "I just told him that he's a disappointment and is going to get his ass handed to him by ravens if he doesn't do exactly as I say" and, from the ground, Matt's actor goes "hell yeah you did. talk dirty to me any day of the week you sexy, sexy man")

coach's actor is always swearing to the point where they implement a swear jar...really it's just something for the kids to jokingly rag on him about, but he goes with it, and every so often they'll empty the jar to buy the cast and crew pizza

they're filming outside at night and it's cold and in between takes Matt's Aaron's and Renee's actors are all huddled together for warmth and Matt's actor gets pulled aside to get his makeup touched up and the other two just shriek at the absence of his heat and catch up to him to tuck themselves against him again

Andrew needs to snap his fingers in one scene but everyone finds out that day that his actor doesn't know how to snap so he has a little impromptu snapping lesson and of course it turns into everyone else trying to one-up each other with their snapping abilities

Nicky's actor telling everyone what he's going to steal from set (will literally say"[about Allison's bathrobe] damn that shit soft as hell. Ive been needing a new bathrobe actually. I'm stealing this" or "I'm stealing this lighter/bandana/sunglasses/etc") but because his humor is so dry everyone thinks he's joking. until months later. when the prop department can't find shit

Renee's actress is doing something completely mundane but Neil's and Allison's actors start narrating what she's doing like they're in a nature documentary (always with Australian accents for some reason??)

"and our specimen now reclines herself vertically on a piece of furniture us humans know as 'a desk.' this clearly less-developed creature seems not to understand the purpose of such an object. but given that this is her first time outside her natural habitat (the jungle) her lack of familiarity with modern technology is to be expected"

Renee's actress: *flips them off*

"ah and here we witness one of the most common behaviors of this specimen. specialists have dubbed it 'flipping the bird,' and explain it as a nonverbal expression of affection" "oh fuck off"

photo from another cold night-shoot and it's of Matt's and Dan's actors, she's standing in front of him zipped up in his hoodie, just her head poking out and they're having a conversation with other castmates like it's the most normal thing in the world, looking the very image of the couple they play

so much glorious content from shooting the dorm sleepover scene. the most popular thing to come from it is a picture from after they wrapped where the cast and some members of the crew had moved even closer to each other amid all the blankets and are asleep on top of each other

Andrew's actor will sometimes actually eat the ice cream he's given instead of just pretending to eat it, and halfway through the scene he casually mentions that he's lactose intolerant and sends the crew into a worried frenzy

if you haven't clocked it yet, these bitches are competitive. and one day, one thing led to another, and soon a bunch of the actors are all being filmed having a plank-holding competition. Dan's actress is the first to drop and she gets booed at for it because "you're an ex-stripper where tf is that upper body strength?"

she flips them off and goes to sit on Kevin's actor, hoping to squash his plank, but instead he starts doing push ups with her on his back. she grins

(Rikos actor wins that competition btw. and Neil's actor goes on a rant about "we succumbed to the ENEMY? a RAVEN? your characters would be ashamed of you" (he also lost?))

Allison's actress pretending to do a get-ready-with-me using all the stuff on Allison's vanity

Wymack's actor falling asleep in The Dad Pose™ when they're shooting a scene on the bus. and everybody gathers in to take pictures

when Kevin and Neil get all up in each other's faces their actors will pretend like they're going to kiss each other

not really a blooper but just all the actors for the foxes and the ravens mingling together in between takes and it looks so wrong

give me all the actors constantly taking the piss out of their characters

for ex during a scene where the monsters are in the car on the way to Edens, Nicky's actor looks towards the backseat where everyone is in character and goes wow what a fun crowd we are you'd never believe we're about to hit the club

night shoots are a. struggle. for Dan's actress. and the others love to take videos of her just standing on her mark with the most spaced out expression on her face

Andrew's and Neil's actors are shooting one of their typical intense, deep scenes and after one take, as soon as "cut" is called, Andrew's actor grabs Neil's face and starts serenading him with the song that's been stuck in his head all day

Renee's actress getting scolded for sneaking snacks into her costume

when Nicky's actor messes up a line (and he's the least likely of everyone to do it) he starts spewing Spanish

Andrew's actor constantly teasing his brother and Katelyn's actress whenever they have scenes together

like the two of them will just be talking together in between takes and Andrews actor will be behind the camera recording them and saying shit like "look at that MINYARD RIZZ" (or he'll use their actual last name) "hey btw [Katelyn's actor] I taught him everything he knows"

that scene where the foxes are rushing out of the dorm to check on their destroyed cars and Matt's actor just faceplants (Neil's actor: "wow. the dedication")

in one scene or other Allison's actress is drinking an iced drink and during one take she just keeps calmly shaking the ice around in her cup until one by one everyone cracks

in one scene Allison's actress is wearing sunglasses. and in between takes she lies down and on camera you can see Kevin and Matt's actors whispering trying to figure out whether or not she's sleeping because they can't see her eyes

Aaron's actor always using Neil's actor as a pillow during car scenes because they're always next to each other and they're actually hella tight irl

the kids love to steal any props that coach's actor needs to use (pens clipboards etc) before they start rolling just so they can watch him try to subtly fidget trying to find his prop before they get to the point in the scene where he actually needs it

all the actors just taking pictures together in the most brutal settings on set.

like Neil's makeup has his face all busted and everyone wants a selfie with him. they all have a photoshoot with the trashed cars. they have another one in front of the "happy 19th birthday junior" set. Neil is tied up at The Nest while they change his hair and Jean's and Riko's actors take selfies with him. another photoshoot with Neil handcuffed in the police car. all these settings in terrible scenes and the actors are in front of them with grins and peace signs

they're terrible.

#are y'all bored yet? #aftg #aftgtv #neil josten #kevin day #aaron minyard #matt boyd #andrew minyard #dan wilds #nicky hemmick #allison reynolds #renee walker #david wymack

[vidavalor]

(Non-Frozen) Peas. A Good Omens Sex Meta Thing Side Dish

Shorter little vegetable-themed side dish to Crepes, which you do not have to have read first. All by way of Aziraphale's dirty French in S2 about how he has a craving for Crowley's Eden.

*slips into GO fandom quietly* *whispers*

Do you all realize that another translation of Aziraphale's "Ou est la plume de la jardiniere de ma tante?" is...

"Where is the feathered garden box of my queen?"

I probably don't need to tell you that both 'garden' and 'box' are sexual euphemisms for lady parts and, to make matters funnier, remind you of this scene earlier in the season, in which a literal box became related to... well, it's somewhat open to interpretation so let's just call it a gasp-worthy, part-related situation. :)

"Where is the feathered garden box of my queen?" is Aziraphale saying that it's been a minute since he worshipped Lady Crowley and he misses her.

This would account for Aziraphale's impish "but you understood me" and flirty little smile and wiggles. He's so cute about it that Nina comes out of her coffee shop to try to hear what they're talking about that's made the bookseller look so alive and has Snarky Sunglasses all flustered.

Crowley's "Only because, for two hundred and fifty years, you've been wittering on about the plume of your imaginary 'tante.'" = "Only because, ever since you took French lessons the human way, I've had to listen to you euphemistically referring to my occasional wild flower garden and calling me your queen in two different languages and I love to hate how much I absolutely love it."

We know that Crowley did understand Aziraphale and not just because he also speaks French but because his traditional choices in translating it back to Aziraphale in protest-- "you don't have an aunt, she doesn't have a gardener and he doesn't have a... pen"-- is intentionally a bit incorrect because Aziraphale used the feminine French word for 'gardener'-- la jardiniere-- in his sentence. As a result, Crowley is protesting that "the gardener" is a he right now, Aziraphale, and he doesn't have a-- pause of 'wait, this isn't going to work if I translate 'plume' as 'feathers'-- euphemistic or literal-- as I have both so I'll go with the other thing the word means instead'--... pen.

(Which winds up even funnier since a pen is phallic and euphemistic, in this sense, for currently having a penis, which is actually Crowley's current state of effort in that moment. Hold those thoughts until we get to turnips and inkwells down below lol.)

A 'plume' in French is a pen, a feather, a quill, and a cloud of rising smoke. In Good Omens, it's also used in the smoke-like definition by Michael to describe the pink plume of magical energy that came from the bookshop when Crowley and Aziraphale miracled together. Crowley responded with 'pen'-- which is a riff on the fact that Aziraphale is riffing on "la plume de ma tante", a cliched line said derogatorily to mean 'those sentences that you learn when you learn a new language that you'd never say in real life.' Crowley used 'aunt', 'gardener' and 'pen' as the translation in reference to the cliche Aziraphale was referencing. Aziraphale, though, adjusted the line, as we saw-- adding words to it to make it a stealth, flirty request-- and Crowley did hear the innuendo. Crowley correctly heard Aziraphale using 'plume' in the 'feather' sense (hilariously, considering that they have actual feathers in their angel/demon forms lol), with the 'feather'-context 'plume' being euphemistic for Crowley keeping it real down below.

(It could be worse, Crowley. He could be in a blasphemous mood and referring to it as "The Burning Bush"... which I feel like you'd actually find hilarious but anyway, moving on...)

In English, appropriated from the French, a 'jardiniere' is a flower box/garden planter. 'Tante' is French for 'aunt' but it's also a word meaning both 'queen'/'pansy' in the queer sense of the words (a 'pansy' also being a kind of flower, of course, adding to the Eden motif that "*the* Southern Pansy" Aziraphale has going on for his gardener partner here) but 'tante' is also one of the words that just means 'queen' as well, in the 'regal' sense of the word. It might not be the first word Aziraphale would use if he were, instead, speaking a sentence in French about, say, Queen Camilla-- but it's maybe a more appropriate one for flirting with his gender-everything partner by telling him in French that it's been too long since he spent some quality time with his queen's jardiniere.

'A la jardiniere' is also a French cooking term. It translates as "in the manner of the gardener's wife" (Gabriel: "Whatever that is."). It is obviously an archaic-sounding term when it comes to gender but, for the purposes of metaphor here, it's actually a little useful. The phrase is born out of the idea that the chef would be male, straight and married and that his wife would be keeping their kitchen garden-- which, even though she was probably running it, is credited to him, because the patriarchy-- from which fresh vegetables could easily be picked and used in a dish. As such, it's a lot more fun that Aziraphale is using the French here because the actual gardener doing the garden work in the definition of 'jardiniere' is specifically female by the term's description, so it's another way to reference Crowley's femininity.

There's also, of course, that "in the manner of the gardener's wife" is about as porny a definition for a phrase that can possibly be translated from one language to another lol and so adds to the idea of 'jardiniere' being sexually euphemistic. Atop that, there's the fact that the word itself relates food to romance and sex by referring to the chef and the gardener as married in its definition. The second half of this scene is the Nina & Crowley "partners" conversation. In a season that has Crowley and Aziraphale unable to deal with words like 'couple' and 'partners', if only Maggie and Nina understood that maybe they don't know how to use traditional words but damned if Aziraphale isn't already on covertly calling Crowley his spouse when flirting with him.

While 'a la jardiniere' is a cooking term, 'la jardiniere/jardiniere' is also a French food term. It is a side dish or a garnish of mixed vegetables, usually spring garden vegetables. So, carrots, green beans, potatoes (Crowley: "You say 'potato', I say 'excellent'" lol), turnips (Aziraphale can turn garden variety sex into inkwells!-- haha 'garden' pun, get it? please send help-- and inkwells are the things one dips a quill pen into.... and, now, we're back to the 'pen' translation of 'la plume...').

The most signature vegetables of jardiniere, though, are peas.

As Crowley would tell Shax and anyone who will listen, literal ducks-the-water-fowl need not get their actual jardiniere defrosted.

Aziraphale-- the more discerning duck-- likes his hot, though.

~~~

If you have not already and would like to read more meta like this:

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens 2 #good omens meta #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #good omens s2 #genderfluid crowley

[humanpurposes]

❤️ Gee-sus Christ Mas request! ❤️

Prompt: From Christmas (but make it sexy), number 9: “Tipsy fondling, softened giggles and muffled noises as they fool around with each other after having a little too much to drink” 🥂

With Billy Washington! And if I may add a kink… 🤭 voyeurism? Or exhibitionism? 😘

A/n: My first time writing Billy W as a prezzie for my lovely Inka ❤️✨

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: 18+, fingering, voyeurism, kinda dub con?

Main Masterlist

You spot him because he’s the tallest person in the room, leaning against the wall by the balcony, taking small sips from a bottle of Heineken. It takes you a minute, but you recognise the messy mop of dirty blond hair, the lowered chin, the cautious way he looks around at his surroundings, like an unsure puppy. Billy Washington has always had a way of pulling at your heartstrings and tonight is no exception. You feel a bit sorry that he’s alone, standing at the edge of the room at a Christmas party.

The host, Laura, is one of your friends from uni. Once you’d found somewhere to put your coat you had gone up to her to say a simple “hi! Haven’t seen you in ages!” before she pulled you into a suffocating hug. It gave you a chance to get a look at him though, peering over her shoulder.

Billy’s already looking at you, slightly bewildered. You wonder if that’s a good sign or a bad one, but surely now you just have to go over to him?

So once Laura lets you go and you grab yourself a drink, you weave your way through the other guests, all the way over to the wall by the balcony and come face to face with Billy. He’s a little undressed, in a black t-shirt and black Adidas joggers. You’re in black too, a long sleeved dress and black tights, but it looks like you’re not even dressed for the same event.

“Hi,” you say, noticing a humiliating tremble in your voice and hands.

Up close, you realise he looks completely different from how you remember. His face is sterner and sharper in the lines of his jaw and cheeks. And he’s tall. Really tall. But then he presses his lips together in a familiar, shy little smile.

He says your name and it almost sends you into a state of shock. “Long time no see.”

Over a decade now, you think. You and Billy had grown up in the same area of Nottingham, gone to school together, until his family moved down to London after you’d finished your GCSEs. You weren’t really friends, but you were familiar, you’d seen his face every day from the age of four to sixteen, that had to count for something. Seeing him now gives you a happy sense of nostalgia, the boy who didn’t need to try hard to make you laugh every French lesson, who sometimes tagged along with you on your walk home and bought you sweets from the corner shop.

He’s a lot more subdued now, only natural with age, but as you start to chat more you realise there’s an innate sort of sadness about him. That, with the intensity of his blue-eyed gaze, makes your heart flutter. You soon learn he’s been working as a marketing assistant for the last year, which is how he knows Laura.

“I thought you were set on the army,” you say, “like Lana, right?” Billy’s older sister. You’d never seen much of her but you knew he idolised her.

His face drops a little and you can only hope you haven’t touched a nerve. “Didn’t work out,” he says, looking down at his beer bottle. “She works with the police now, explosives officer.”

“Sounds dangerous,” you say.

Billy raises his eyebrows. It looks like he’s going to say something else when he brings the bottle to his lips, jutting his chin out slightly as he finishes it off.

You take a long sip of your own drink, finishing it off a lot more quickly than you had intended.

Billy nods at your now empty glass. “Can’t be having that at Christmas,” he says with the slightest hint of a smile

He takes your hand in his and leads you towards the kitchen. The alcohol must be doing a number on you because all you can think about is how large Billy’s hand is compared to yours, how warm he is, how tightly he’s holding onto you. And when he has to duck to fit under the doorframe, you can’t help but bite down on your lower lip at the way your belly flutters. When did he get so fucking fit?

But you tell yourself not to get carried away. It’s just a Christmas party and he’s just an old acquaintance, probably best to take things slow and hold off on the drinks.

So how you and Billy end up sitting on the sofa at midnight, with an empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s between you, is a complete mystery. But to be fair to the two of you, the bottle was nowhere near full when you started drinking it.

The party continues around you, but you and Billy are in a world of your own, chatting about the good old days back in Notts, ending up in fits of laughter over silly stories, like the time he nearly goaded your Year Eight History teacher into a fist fight.

“Oh God, I was awful,” Billy laments, running a hand through his hair to get it out of his face.

You’re staring again, but you’re too tipsy to stop yourself. The room is mostly dark apart from the warm glow of fairy lights on the Christmas tree, and you keep staring as the light hits his hair, the tip of his nose and the curve of his lips. 

You open your mouth to tell him that he’s not awful, but the words dissolve on your tongue as Billy turns his head towards you. 

You can’t explain it but there’s a moment of knowing between you, his blue eyes burning into yours, the little smirk on his lips. Nervousness ripples through your body again but it’s a feeling you find you’re enjoying. You giggle and Billy tries not to, but smiles back.

Then he looks down at his hands, clutching his empty glass between his legs. You feel a flicker of fear in your chest, like he might get up or just leave altogether.

“How are you finding London?” You ask suddenly, shuffling closer into him– much too close, you realise. Your legs are tucked under you, knees pressing against his thigh. 

His eyes move around your face, glancing quickly down, then up again, and his lips are restless. “Fine,” he says, “it can be lonely sometimes.”

“That’s what I think,” you say. “It’s such a big place. Sometimes I think it’s too big.”

“Nah you’re always going to be alright,” he says. “You’ve always been smart, and nice. You’ve got friends, nice job, yeah?”

“Yeah I guess.” 

Billy hums to himself and twists his mouth into a little pout. “What about a boyfriend?”

“Ah,” you say, keeping determined eye contact, “the one thing I don’t have.”

“Good to know.”

“Why would that be good?”

Billy just shrugs, then tries and fails to suppress a pleased grin.

“What about you?” You ask. “Girlfriend? Or Boyfriend?”

“A boyfriend’s not on the cards for me,” he chuckles, “and no girlfriend, not for a while, I’ve been trying to focus on myself.”

“Oh,” you say, trying not to sound too pleased about the lack of a girlfriend, “that’s good.”

“Yeah,” he says, tapping his fingers against the glass– his long, lithe fingers. “I don’t wanna bore you with the details, but I was in a really rough spot last year. Couldn’t get a job, did some stuff I regret, got myself in a really fucking stupid situation, but it was all a wakeup call, you know?”

He looks across at you again, with the sad puppy dog eyes. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath against your skin, your neck and along the neckline of your dress. 

He keeps looking into your eyes, you think it might be a dare or an invitation.

It’s a question you don’t need to answer when he closes the space between you, kissing you gently.

It’s over as quickly as it happens and soon you’re met with the sight of his eyes again.

Your heart is humming in your chest and you can’t quite catch your breath. “What was that for?” you whisper.

Billy’s face falls. “Oh,” he says, “I’m sorry I just thought–”

He starts to pull away and all you can think to do is reach for him, haul yourself onto his lap and weave your fingers through his hair. “No, what I meant was, why did you stop?”

After that he doesn’t waste a single second. He surges up to kiss you again, desperately, harshly, sucking and nipping at your lips while his hands grab at your waist.

Your hips start to move against each other, with his guidance, desperate for friction, to ease the tightening feeling in your stomach but all it seems to do is make you want more, especially when you feel how hard he is underneath his joggers.

He keeps kissing you, keeps grinding you against him, panting and huffing against the back of his throat in the brief moments when your mouths are parted. You can only hope Laura’s too drunk to notice the two of you dry humping each other on her sofa, and giggle against his lips at the absurdity of it, 

It’s too easy to get carried away. One moment you’re just enjoying the feeling of his lips and tongue against your own, the next his hands are moving from your waist, dragging you tights down and rucking up your dress so he can feel his hands over the skin of your bare ass and thighs while he kisses your neck.

Then he runs his fingers over your clothed centre, curls them around your panties and starts pulling them to the side.

“Billy,” you whine, instinctively lifting your hips to escape him but he just pulls you right back to where he wants you.

“No, no, no, you stay right where you are,” he mutters into your neck as he starts to circle over your clit.

The pleasure he brings you is surprisingly overwhelming and goes straight to your head. You can’t tell if you want him to stop or never let you go again.

You hold onto him by his neck, rutting your hips against his hand to his praises of “good girl, just like that, feels good, doesn’t it?”

And just when you start to feel like it’s not enough you feel one of his fingers slip inside your soaked cunt. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, already feeling just how much deeper he can reach than you can on your own.

But it’s wrong, isn’t it, letting him touch you like this with other people in the same fucking room?

“Billy, we shouldn’t do this here–”

“Come on,” he grunts, “fuck yourself on my fingers, I know you want it.”

And you do, you really do.

“What if someone sees?”

He grabs you by your chin and drags you into him until your foreheads are pressed together. “They’re not looking at you,” he says, “so you just keep your focus on me, yeah? Keep looking at me, keep thinking about how it feels to have my fingers deep in that tight little pussy of yours, can you do that for me?”

“Yeah,” you breathe.

He lets out a low hum of content that makes your cunt clench around him.

You start to rock your hips against him. Your mind is hazy but in a way it only makes you feel lighter, more sensitive as his finger nudges against your soft spot, as he circles your clit, kisses your neck and lets his warm breath tease your skin. It’s careless and desperate and you want it, you need it.

You curl over him when your orgasm washes over you, wrapping your arms around him and pressing as much of your body against his as you can manage. You barely stifle a moan by pressing your lips against his temple.

You feel one of Billy’s hands run over the back of your head. “Shh, there you go, that felt nice, didn’t it?”

You feel his finger drag against your walls as he slips out of you, and hear a wet sound as he cleans it between his lips.

You’re content not to move, feeling the heat of his body and the light drumming of his heart beneath you, the apparent hardness he’s trying not to grind against you. You snake a hand between your bodies when he grips at your wrist, and commands your attention to his eyes.

“What about you?” you ask.

“We can go back to mine for that,” he says, “if that’s something you’d be interested in, obviously.”

Only Billy Washington could be this awkward despite having just been inside of you.

You smile, running your fingers over the golden stubble along his jaw. “I’d like that.”

Billy keeps gazing up at you, and takes a breath like he’s just remembered how to. 

You don’t bother checking the time when you eventually go to leave Laura’s flat. You almost forget to say “goodbye,” but the last people standing are all shouting an off key rendition of Fairytale of New York, which you don’t think you want to interrupt.

You and Billy stumble down the street arm in arm, giggling softly when you keep bumping into each other only to pull yourselves back into each other. 

You make it back to his flat in Cranstead Fields, which takes a grand total of three night buses to get to. The moment you’re through the door he’s pinning you between his body and the wall, holding your face between his hands and kissing you with as much enthusiasm as before.

“I’m so glad we ran into each other again,” he whispers with a little grin.

You run your palms over his chest, slip them under the hem of his t-shirt to feel the way his stomach clenches, and snag your fingers on the waistband of his joggers. If the pleading look in his eye when you start to palm over his bulge is anything to go by, you’d guess he’s utterly desperate.

You only intend to kiss him once on the lips, but find yourself coming back again and again because just once isn’t enough. “I’m glad too.”

Tags (comment to be added)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria @lacebvnny

#billy washington #billy washingston smut #billy washington fanfic #billy washington fanfiction #billy washington oneshot #billy washington drabble #billy washington x reader #billy washington x you #billy washingston x y/n #ewan mitchell smut #ewan mitchell fanfiction #my fics

[oceane4loveu]

☾𝕄𝕆𝕆ℕ𝕃𝕀𝔾ℍ𝕋 BEAUTY ☾: 1 week to glow up

I really need a quick and simple glow up because I'm starting my job soon so I created a program to glow up in 1 week and really get to know myself and improve myself physically and mentally. You can do this program in 2 weeks or more if you want.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚day 1: lunar preparation

★shadow work: It’s time to work on yourself, answer their questions to get to know yourself better.

1. What did my childhood need most?

2. What am I avoiding?

3. What am I addicted to?

4. What secrets am I hiding and why?

5. Am I honest with myself and others?

6. What are my biggest misconceptions about myself?

7. What are my biggest fears?

8. What should I give up?

9. Am I a victim of trauma? Have I done enough to heal?

10. What do I need to forgive myself for?

11. What lessons do I still need to learn?

12. What do I want most in this life?

13. What are the first signs you notice and know that your mental health is deteriorating?

14. Do I try to hide parts of myself from others? Why ?

15. What was I like when I was a child?

16. What's the worst way someone could describe you?

★moodboard: makes a Moodboard that reflects your aspirations and your inspirations that you can look at every morning; you can put it as a wallpaper or hang it on the wall.

★ Do a major cleaning: tidy your room, delete numbers, sort through your phone, sort through your series and films, social media and my playlist, cut off toxic people.

★make a list of all your goals, choose 4 big goals in your life and separate them into smaller goals to make them easier to achieve.

★create a morning and night routine: you can copy that of someone who inspires you or simply create your own.

★do 1 hour of sport per day

* ੈ✩‧₊˚day2:inner radiance

★ start Journaling: write down your thoughts, your emotions, your thoughts for the day and also positive affirmations.

★make a list of things you like about yourself

★become softer:

1. When someone calls you, first turn to the person and smile: This helps you to be gentler and more polite towards the person you are talking to and after smiling it gives you the opportunity to speak in a kinder tone.

2. think before you speak: this is very important when learning to speak softer because it gives you time to pay attention to the tone of your voice and also be careful with the things you say.

3. Avoid yelling at others out of frustration: Yelling is the most important thing you should avoid when trying to speak softer. When you're frustrated or going through a tough time, try doing something you enjoy to calm yourself down like music, drawing, etc. instead of taking it out on others. if someone tries to make you angry, politely tell them to stop and don't let your anger control you.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚day3:educational brilliance

-listen to a podcast: I only listen to podcasts in French but if you don't like listening to podcasts you can watch videos from tam kaur, thewizardliz, simonesquared and more

-read a book: I recommend atomic habit, ikigai, the why cafe, the other books that I read are in French.

-learn a new language: on YouTube there are plenty of videos that you can find on the language of your choice.

-learn another skill: I chose to improve my computer skills but you can choose any skill it can be drawing, cooking whatever you want.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚day4:celestial radiance

-work on self-love

-work on self-esteem

* ੈ✩‧₊˚day5:lunar dream

-spa day at home

-meditation

-listen to your favorite music

-watch your favorite series or films

* ੈ✩‧₊˚day6: lunar flight

-find your ikigai: that is to say your reason for being, explore your passions, your values ​​and your talents to really find what motivates you here is an example:

-Black Swan mindset: the Black Swan mindset is about knowing your value and not letting others tell you your value, it is a mindset of trust and knowledge of your value.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚day7:moonlight beauty

become more feminine

1-have good posture: gives you more elegance, you seem taller and more confident.

2-smell good have a characteristic scent: could remind someone of you, smell good shows that you care about your hygiene.

3-Getting Your Nails Done: Getting your nails done could make you look confident and well-groomed.

4-style your hair: hair is a key point of your appearance and a good hairstyle could automatically make you even more beautiful.

5-wear jewelry: simple jewelry can enhance your outfit a lot and bring out your features.

things to do every day

☆ Workout

☆ Learn a new skill

☆ Listen to subliminals

☆ Meditate

☆ Read a book

☆ Do Journaling

☆ Listen to Podcasts

I'm going to start tomorrow and to stay organized and always have an idea of ​​what I have to do I created a simple Notion if you want it's right here જ⁀➴

𝕄𝕆𝕆ℕ𝕃𝕀𝔾ℍ𝕋 BEAUTY

#dream life #dream girl #wonyoungism #high maintenance #it girl #main character #it girl energy #dream girl tips #becoming that girl #clean girl #glow up #glow #glow aesthetic #jennie #thewizardliz #self health #self confidence #self development #self care #self love #self improvement #healthy mindset #healthy mind #healthy lifestyle #that girl #workout

[toppersjeep]

[Chapter 3]- I’ll Take Him(Charles Leclerc X Carlos Sainz X Reader)

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Masterlist || tags @cmleitora @gracielukey @janeholt3 @landologg

Chapter 4

(poorly translated french my apologies in advance still learning french!! - a/n)

Your POV

“So obviously we will start with the simple things then go from there” Charles said. “Sounds good to me char” I said he smiled. After hours of learning french well trying to learn it we decided to make good. Well I made food.

“Can I ask you something” I said. “What’s on your mind” Charles said. “Shouldn’t you be with your new girlfriend” I said. “Ah.. I was waiting for that question” Charles said. “Why sensitive topic” I said cooking the pasta. “It’s not that” Charles said. “So it’s complicated” I said. “Very” Charles said. “I see well pasta is done” I said.

“Looks good” Charles said I handed him a bowl. “I mean I know I cooked it” I said. “I only burnt it once” Charles said grabbing some pasta. “Still I don’t trust you in my kitchen” I said he laughed. “Alright I get it” Charles said sitting down. I sat beside him. I then heard the door open.

It was Carlos.

“What’s this” Carlos said. “Oh Charles was just offering to teach me french” I said. “Really cause it looks like a date or something” Carlos said. “It’s not I literally was teaching her French” Charles said. “Then we got hungry” I said. “Mmmh” Carlos said.

“You know you were supposed to come for breakfast and you didn’t so” I said. “So Charles just comes when he pleases” Carlos said. “He’s my best friend you’ve known that” I said. “Maybe I should go” Charles said. “No you aren’t leaving” I said. “No he should” Carlos said.

“Yeah” Charles said getting up. “You have a girlfriend anyways don’t be taking her” Carlos said. “Whatever mate enjoy the pasta” Charles said handing Carlos his bowl. “Sorry char” I said. “It’s fine he’s fine” Carlos said. “Y/N” Charles said. “What” I said. “Il te trompe” Charles said.

(Il te trompe - he’s cheating on you) (Vous êtes sûr - you are sure) (Je ne te mentirais pas- I wouldn’t lie to you)

“What did you just say” Carlos said. “Looks like someone should pick up on there French” Charles said. I just looked at Charles in disbelief. “Vous êtes sûr” I said. “Je ne te mentirais pas” Charles said softly. “I’m sorry what’s happening” Carlos said.

“Get out” I said. “Excuse me” Carlos said. “Get out of my apartment” I yelled. “Y/N what’s your problem” Carlos said. “Get out now” I said standing up. “What did he say” Carlos said. “Get your shit and leave” I said handing him his jacket.

“What the hell is your problem” Carlos said. “Talk to her like that again and I’ll become your problem” Charles said standing in between us. “Whatever” Carlos said leaving slamming the door shut. “Y/N” Charles said.

“How’d you know” I said. “I … saw him with some girl today” Charles said. “So..” I said teary eyed. “I’m sorry” Charles said. “What an idiot” I said throwing the vase of flowers. “Hey” Charles said as I went to pick up the broken vase. “I’m so stupid” I said. He grabbed my hand. “Stop” Charles said. “I” I said crying he hugged me.

“I’m here” Charles said rubbing my back. “I just” I said. “I know” Charles said. “Who was the girl” I said softly. “The girl I was talking to” Charles said. “Guess we both got played” I said. “Apparently” Charles said. “I should pick that up” I said looking at the vase. “No no I will go eat dinner please” Charles said.

“Okay” I said he helped me up off the floor. “I thought you hated daisy’s” Charles said. “I do” I said. “How does he not know what kinda flowers you love” Charles said sweeping up the glass. “He just doesn’t pay attention” I said.

“Because he’s never deserved you” Charles said. “Maybe” I said. He finished sweeping then came back over to eat with me. “This is actually very good” Charles said. “I’ll teach you to repay you for the french lessons” I said. “I’d be happy to learn” he said with a smile.

“Just don’t burn down my apartment” I said. “Then we go to mine” Charles said. “Fine but you are buying the stuff” I said. “Sounds fair” Charles said. “Actually I’ll go with you because you have no idea” I said he laughed. “Okay” he said.

The next day…

We were at the track again. I was in my office when flowers came in. This time it was a single rose.

“I don’t know someone told me to give you this ” a mechanic said. “Oh” I said taking it. He then left the room.

I read the card attached , “it’s roses anyone with ears knows this - CL”. I smiled to myself and set it on my desk.

“Can we talk” Carlos said in the doorway. “No” I said. “What’s your problem” Carlos said. “Cheaters like you” I said walking out of the room. “How’d you” he began to say. “You should be ashamed of yourself rather than asking how I know” I said looking at him.

“I’m really sorry” Carlos said. “Don’t talk to me anymore unless it’s work related” I said walking away. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back to him. “So what are you saying” Carlos said. “It’s over” I said walking away.

He just stood there as I did. He didn’t even try to fight for me or apologize further. He just stood there silently. I turned back to look at him and he walked in the other direction.

I then went to sit beside Charles.

“How’d that go” Charles said looking at me. “Fine” I said. Carlos then walked into the room grabbing a coffee. “Did it though” Charles asked. “He just didn’t even try to fight for me” I said. Charles looked at Carlos. “That’s his own problem don’t let him get to you” Charles said putting a hand on my back.

Carlos just looked over at both of us pissed off. He then walked over to our table. He sat across from us and didn’t say anything.

“What do you want” Charles said. “What do I want hmm” Carlos said. “You’ve got some nerve” I said. “Me what do you like go from teammate to teammate” Carlos said. “What are you talking about” I said. “This” he said holding up the rose. “It’s just a rose” I said. “Is it Charles” Carlos said looking at him.

“Yes” Charles said. “Sure it is” he said throwing it at Charles. “You need to walk away” Charles said. “Or what” Carlos said. “Don’t ever come near her again” Charles said. “And what will you do” Carlos said with a smirk.

“Why don’t I just tell everyone about how you cheated and ruin your perfect image” I said. Carlos looked at me. “You wouldn’t” Carlos said. “Oh I will so walk away” I said. “You two deserve each other” Carlos said walking away.

“Well” Charles said picking up the rose. “It’s alright” I said. “It was never just a flower” Charles said getting up. “What” I said. “You heard me” he said with a smile. “Oh” I said. “Umm I should get prepared for the race” Charles said. “Yeah you’re right” I said.

As the race went on I couldn’t help but think of Charles and the rose. What did he mean by it’s not just a flower. Then there was Carlos why did he do the things he did.

Charles placed P2. Carlos was a dnf because of engine issues. And Carlos was upset. We all celebrated Charles podium. After he got down he hugged everyone.

“Thank you for making the car perfect” Charles said hugging me. “Thank the mechanics too” I said. “I did but you had a big part in it” Charles said still hugging me. “You’re welcome” I said. “You are a big part of this team” Charles said I smiled. “I’m so proud of you” I whispered in his ear.

“I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know” he whispered. “I hope you know how special you are to me” he added. “Congrats” Carlos said. I stopped hugging Charles. “Thanks” Charles said. “So what was wrong with my car” Carlos said. “Engine problems” I said. “Sure” he said.

“What are you implying” I said. “Crazy how after we fight my car suddenly doesn’t work” Carlos said. “Funny you assume I’d do something when I only work on Charles car” I said. “Wouldn’t be hard for you to do though” he said. “Believe me when I say I’d rather punch you than mess up your car” I said Charles laughed.

“Come on let’s go celebrate this win” Charles said.

#fanfic #love #f1 imagine #x reader #mercedes amg f1 #red bull f1 #charles lecrelc #charles lechair #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #f1 x reader #f1blr #f1 2023 #george russell #love triangle

[bidisastersanji]

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

[momowritings]

A Lesson in French

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Reader x Kento Nanami

Rating: 19+ MDNI

Wd ct: 5k

tags: threesome, married couple plus one, bottom Toji, anal, face riding, blowjobs, anal, lowkey brat taming, come eating, uhhh let me know if I forgot anything

Preview :

Nanami pressed his lips to Toji, letting the wine fall out and into Toji’s mouth. Toji let out a low groan, and you watched as the sticky red substance escaped the corner of their mouths as down their chins. You used your thumb to gather the wine on Toji’s face and licked it clean, then tapped Nanami’s jaw. 

“It means threesome. You got ahead of yourself there, Ken. Try not to swallow my man...."

~~~

“Je’n connais pas,” you mumbled into the phone. Toji had a growing frown behind you but your back was turned to him. 

“Vin rouge ou blanc?” You asked into your phone again.

Toji grumbled under his breath. “You could ask me something.” 

Your eyes darted over to him, a smile creeping on your face. You went over to his side giving him a peck on the cheek. “Mon cœur, arrête de froncer les sourcils.”

He gave you a hard stare yet you blinked so sweetly at him he couldn’t really be mad at you. “I don’t know if you know, but I still can’t understand you.” 

“I already have wine, but if you insist on bringing it, get something red. It will pair well with what I have in mind,” Nanami spoke up louder from your phone. Toji’s scowl deepened from the sound of his voice, making you place your finger down the center of his brows to flatten the wrinkles. You held the phone closer to your mouth, still massaging Toji’s face before giving him a peck on the cheek.

“And what may that be?” 

“One of your favorites. À plus tard,” he said curtly then hung up. You stuffed your phone back into your purse and held up two different wines to Toji.

“You said you wanted me to ask you, right?” 

He pointed to the one in your left hand, which you nodded to contently. He doesn’t know shit about wine so he chose the fancier looking one. He saw that it was yet another French brand too late and almost asked you to put it back until he saw you nodded contently. You held it in your arms, strolling down the aisle while Toji tried to talk you out of your plans.

“Do we have to have dinner with him? We can just stay in tonight.” 

“You’re starting to sound like me,” you smirked. “We always stay in.”

“Where’s my baby that has her nightly routine done by 9pm, rubbing her feet under the covers to sleep?”

“Getting excited to eat at our very lovely friend’s house for dinner with, ma cherie. We already agreed to it,” you reminded him. 

Toji ignored the way that he actually liked the French pet names for him. The stupid, lopsided grin he felt growing on his face would have to be stifled for the sake of the argument. 

“Say I got sick.”

“You’re as healthy as a horse.” 

“ You got sick.”

“I was just on the phone with him, he’s not gonna believe that.”

Toji let out an annoyed huff of air. It’s not that Toji didn’t like Nanami. He got along with him just fine… for your sake. Sure, he got a little lost when he was around Nanami and you at the same time because your conversations would move a thousand miles per minute, jumping from topics that required years of context. You told him that you and Nanami had known each other since college, finding yourself in the same classes multiple times over that you two decided to be study buddies until you realized that you liked each other’s company outside of class too. With Nanami you were able to sharpen your language skills, bouncing from Japanese, English,  French, Latin and most recently Arabic. He had the uncanny ability to learn a language as quickly as you could, and it just became your “thing” together even after college, even after you got married to Toji. Once Toji saw that Nanami was going to be around much more than he liked, he tried to keep the snarky remarks to himself. 

Still, there was only so much he could take. 

He just never seemed to meet eye to eye with the blond man, and Nanami has always been territorial over his friends. He didn’t give everyone that title without great care, and when you started dating Toji, Nanami was not too keen on him. He didn’t know how Toji managed to catch your attention but you were genuinely happier around him, so Nanami didn’t make a fuss about it. However, it didn’t mean he had to be friends with the dark haired man. Toji could see the stiff politeness whenever he met Nanami. Toji’s hand gripped the steering wheel tighter when you left the store to go to his house. 

When you both arrived at Nanami’s place you were welcomed to low jazz music floating from his hidden speakers. You were greeted with a warm smile and a short hug, but for Toji who stood behind you Nanami gave him a curt nod. You both followed Nanami inside to his kitchen where he was preparing his meal already. You liked to show up a little earlier just to help him out, so the only thing chopped were a few herbs like garlic and rosemary, and it gave you plenty of time to catch up with each other. 

 “This week was unbelievable. I was telling Toji on our way here that I am very close to quitting my job,” you complained. 

“Do it,” Nanami shrugged. He opened his cabinets for wine glasses, grabbing three and setting them on the counter. Then he remembered you mentioning that Toji never imbibed, so he placed one glass back. 

He did the same last year, quit his job, you were the first person he told about his decision. You remember the day fondly. He has been happier since then, and he has shown no interest in rejoining the corporate world. 

“I told her the same shit but she’s afraid of ‘getting bored’,” Toji sighed. Finally, something Nanami and him could agree on. 

“It’s a really big thing to do! I don’t know how Kenny handled it.” 

“I knew the burnout from continuing would have been worse,” he said softly, and poured the wine glasses halfway. He handed you a glass first, then raised his glass up to you. “I wouldn’t want the same thing to happen to you. So listen to us for once,” he reasoned. Your fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass and you tapped your glass with his. 

You looked at Toji nodding his head. “Oh what the hell. To quitting!”

Nanami laughed at your new enthusiasm. “To quitting,” he echoed. He waited for you to taste first before taking a sip of his own. You let the drink settle fully on your tongue and look down into your cup. 

“C’est doux,” you hummed. 

Nanami grinned and swirled his own glass. He knew you would like it. Your sweet tooth was more manageable than a certain white haired menace he knew, matching his own preferences. He could handle sweetness in doses and this was the perfect amount. “It is, isn’t it?” 

Toji let out a deep sigh and Nanami raised his brow. His presence was brought back to Nanami’s attention and the annoyance settled in. Toji could at least keep the noises to himself.

“Would it kill you to try to learn a few phrases?”

“What good will French do for me?” Toji challenged. 

“It won’t make you lose anything,” he shrugged. 

“So it’s useless.” 

You didn’t know why Toji and Nanami always acted like this when they were around each other. They could be such great friends, you could feel it. You just had to find a way to get them there. 

“Look honey, just say sweet. Doux. ”

You and Nanami waited patiently for Toji to repeat it. He crossed his arms over his chest with a disapproving frown. 

“No.”

“Pourquoi agit-il comme un enfant?” Nanami whispered it not-so-quietly into your ear. He didn’t need to whisper it at all as there was no way that Toji could understand what he said. It just made watching Toji’s jaw tick more amusing. 

You shoved Nanami’s shoulder then swirled the glass in your hand. 

“Wanna taste?” 

Toji doesn’t drink. He’d rather keep a clear mind at all times for whatever might happen, but he would never say no to a drink from your lips. It was the only way he’d drink anything alcoholic. 

You took another sip and curled your finger to him to get close, then pushed your lips on his. Toji crouched down to be slightly lower than your eye level, letting gravity do all the work while the wine seeped into his mouth. He moaned at the taste, or maybe at you, and his arms tightened around your waist. Once your mouth was empty you gave him one last kiss, your tongue running over the seam of his lips to catch any remnants.  

“Well. What do you rate it?”

His eyes fluttered open. “It is sweet. Not bad.” 

“ Doux ,” you said. You pouted that big eyed pout that broke Toji down no matter how silly the request was. It wasn’t fair to use your brown eyes like that against him and you knew it.

“Doux,” he sighed, and you rewarded him with another wine drunk kiss. He licked his lips after you pulled away, then went back in for another taste. You pushed him away when you remembered that Nanami was standing right next to you. He pretended like he couldn’t see your sickeningly sweet display of affection to each other. 

“It must suck to not have somebody to do this with,” Toji said, unprovoked. You jabbed him with his elbow, taken completely by surprise by the remark, while apologizing for him to Nanami. Toji did not take back what he said, and Nanami shot daggers with him that were aiming to kill. 

“I won’t be able to eat dinner like this,” you muttered. You dragged the arms of both men into Nanami’s living room. You plopped them both down on the couch, then sat on the table in front of them. 

“I need you two to loosen up already. I mean, it’s been a few years already. Neither one of you is going to leave my life so we need to get rid of this attitude now .”

Nanami crossed his legs, stretching his arm over the top of the couch. Toji scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I don’t have an attitude,” Nanami said coolly. 

“That’s bullshit,” you and Toji said at the same time, and it was Kento’s turn to roll his eyes. You were becoming so much like Toji. He was so sure that his dearest friend that he’s known for all these years would suddenly morph into the man sitting next to him and he would have two Toji’s to deal with. Nanami’s frown deepened at the thought. 

“And you, baby. Why can’t you hang around Nanamin without looking like I’m forcing you to?”

Toji ran a weary hand down his face. “You’re not forcing me to do anything, I promise,” he sighed. “If I didn’t want to be here with you I wouldn’t be. I just think Nanami has a giant silver stick up his ass.”

“A stick up my ass,” Nanami repeated icily. “I welcome you into my home, try to feed you, and this is how you thank me?”

You tried to intervene before they got too heated. You saw Nanami put his leg back on the ground, turning his body to face your husband. “Okay, Toji that was a little–”

“I wasn’t thanking you.” 

“I don’t know what she sees in you,” Nanami exasperated.

“ Kento .” 

“What? He’s the complete opposite of you in every way.”

“And I love that about him. We’ve been together for too long for you to still be wishing for our downfall.” 

“I’m not and will never wish for your unhappiness. Him on the other hand–”

“I’m not going any-fucking-where,” Toji stated. Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose while you let out a breathy, humourless laugh. It would be funny if Toji and Kento were doing a bit, but they were like this at any given chance. It was like dealing with children that you didn’t have the time nor want for. You sighed, patted your knees, then got up and held your hand out to Toji. 

“Let’s just eat then leave. I won’t make you guys uncomfortable anymore.” 

Both men protested but you gave them a silencing glare. Toji’s mouth snapped shut and Nanami mumbled something that sounded like an apology. They both looked like kicked puppies back in the kitchen, but finally they were quiet. Nanami couldn’t even coax you to speak to him in their mother language, as anything you asked him you answered in English. 

Toji felt the worst of the group. After all, you were pretty excited to have dinner with him here and he felt like he had ruined the night for you. You wouldn’t look him in the eye and get everything you needed yourself, not asking him for help on anything. Toji looked at you so miserably that even Nanami felt bad. 

Toji swallowed his pride, something he only did for you, and engaged in a conversation with Nanami. 

“Have you ever been to France before?” He nudged Nanami as he stood over the stove, turning the sauce so the bottom wouldn’t burn. Nanami looked at you from the corner of his eyes. You feigned deep concentration at the chopping board, oblivious to their conversation. 

“Yes, a few times. For work however, not pleasure.”

“I’ve never been. That’s why I don’t really see the point of learning a language I’m not going to use often. It’s more of a skill you and her have,” Toji said honestly. 

“That makes sense. If there’s no motivation it would be hard to learn. You’ve been to France before, right?” Nanami turned to ask you and you shrugged. 

“Yes. Twice.” 

Nanami pursed his lips together. They were going to have to work a little harder but at least you were talking. 

“That’s right. You took a trip right after graduation and then attended a wedding there, correct?”

You made a sound of agreement. Toji scratched the back of his head hopelessly. 

“I will say Toji, French is pervasive. There’s French influence everywhere so you probably know a lot more of it than you think.” 

Nanami started listing out phrases and Toji was following along, telling him if he heard them before or not. They were doing this together, still preparing the dinner, making your heart thaw in the process. They were really getting along for your sake and it was all you ever wanted. 

“A popular term is ménage à trois,” Nanami murmured. He didn’t know why he brought it up all of a sudden, but it was true nonetheless. 

Immediately Toji’s eyes lit up. A wolfish grin was plastered on his face. “I know that one.”

Nanami rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Of course you do.”

“Remind me what it means again, blondie.” 

You decided that now you wanted to join in on the conversation. A slow smile stretched across your face. You set the knife down on the table, carefully wiping your hands clean with a towel as you answered. “Literally? A household of three.” 

Your eyes shined with a mischievous light and Toji knew that there was more to it. 

“Colloquially?” Nanami brushed Toji’s hand off his face. He took a sip from his glass, maintaining eye contact with Toji and gripped his waist. Toji lurched forward, surprised by the action but he was more concerned with how close Nanami’s face was to his. Nanami gave you a look at the corner of his eyes, asking for permission, looking for rejection. You didn’t look at him yet, instead gazing at Toji who was trying to gauge your reaction. You gave him a nod, and then a look to Nanami that said he’s all yours.

Nanami pressed his lips to Toji, letting the wine fall out and into Toji’s mouth. Toji let out a low groan, and you watched as the sticky red substance escaped the corner of their mouths as down their chins. You used your thumb to gather the wine on Toji’s face and licked it clean, then tapped Nanami’s jaw. 

“It means threesome. You got ahead of yourself there, Ken. Try not to swallow my man.”

“He was going to swallow me,” he retorted. Nanami released Toji and brushed his fingers over his lip. They had only kissed for a few seconds but they were tingling. He eyed Toji, who wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your head, seemingly unfazed. Toji’s ears told a different story. His face was as collected as ever yet they were flaming red, like they could burst to flames. Nanami wondered if he was pushed up against you to hide an erection, because Nanami was doing the same by standing so close to the counter to finish slicing his portion of vegetables. 

“Toji you’re slowing me down,” you complained to the man who was still holding onto you like a koala. His arms around you shortened your range of movement, so he raised them up so they wouldn’t be blocking your elbows. You shook your head yet a smile danced on your lips. No matter how Nanami felt, Toji always brought you joy, and he was glad to see your bright smile again. Toji could be standing, doing absolutely nothing but scowling at people, and you would still gaze dreamily upon him. It was ridiculous to watch from Nanami’s point of view, yet he couldn’t stay mad at it. You were smitten with Toji and he had to accept that.

“I’m not blind, you know. It’s hard to ignore you two fucking each other with your eyes,” you commented, shocking both men. “I don’t think I want to sit through that at the table, so let’s deal with this now.” 

You gazed at Nanami who doubled and tripled checked your expression to make sure he was not reading you wrong. 

“You want to…?”

“If Toji wants to,” you agreed. All eyes were on Toji. 

“Lead the way, cheekbones. I’ll do whatever she says.” 

With that Nanami washes his hands and leads you two to his bedroom. You were right, he couldn’t imagine sitting at the dining table with the way his heart was racing in his chest and his pants getting incredibly tight. It was better to deal with this now. Get it out of his system once and for all. Whatever this was. 

“Your room is exactly how I’d imagine it to be. Cold, ” Toji said pointedly once inside. Everything was neatly folded and tucked away. Dark bedding a few decorative pillows laid on the bed, and you sat down on the edge of it, already making yourself comfortable.

“You were having wet dreams about my bedroom?” Nanami raised a brow, causing the other man to scowl. You pulled Toji down to the bed next to you. Your lips tickled the outer shell of his ear when you spoke, yet your voice had a sharp edge to it that sent chills down your husband’s spine. 

“You’re such a little shit tonight. What is your problem?” 

Your fingernails scraped Toji’s nape and his jaw tightened. While it wasn’t intentional tonight, he liked the way you got rough with him when he was getting on your nerves. 

Nanami cleared his voice. “How are we going to do this?” You and Toji’s attention snapped at him. There was a beat of silence before Toji answered. 

“You’re already in front of me. How ‘bout you get on your knees?” Toji offered with a wicked smile. He had every right to decline, yet with one look at you and your bitten bottom lip Nanami felt compelled to do so. Never in a million years would Nanami think that he would be on his knees in front of Toji this way. He didn’t expect to get hard from it either. 

You rubbed Toji’s shoulders as you moved to sit behind him, cheering Nanami on while he kneeled in front of the other man. 

“Doesn’t Nanamin have the prettiest eyes, Toji? They’re absolutely gorgeous,” you cooed. Kento tugged at the belt holding Toji’s pants together, trying to ignore your compliments that made his ears flame. “I know how much you love brown eyes.” 

He was sure that one was meant just for Toji to hear since you dropped your voice down so low, but he heard it all the same. Nanami zeroed in on the hardening length in Toji’s pants, straining to be released and took his time unzipping his pants. You whispered more obscenities in Toji’s ears while Nanami gently pulled him out of his pants. He was already leaking with precum, making the blonde man smirk. 

“Something funny?” Toji asked gruffly. It’s been so long since anybody else’s hands but yours have been on Toji’s body, and the new feeling was exhilarating. Nanami dragged his tongue from the base to the tip before answering. 

“Nothing in particular. Do you want me to continue?”

“Keep focus on the tip,” you mention, still behind Toji. “He’s incredibly sensitive.”

Nanami kept that in mind as he swallowed Toji’s cock. You both watched him in awe as it seemed like he had no gag reflex. Spit rolled down Toji’s length and he let out a low hiss. By habit he placed his large hand on top of Nanami’s head, barely guiding him because Toji was too worried about busting quick. The sound of Toji’s cock head hitting the back of Nanami’s throat made you want to join in on the fun. 

“That’s enough, Kenny. I don’t want him to come just yet,” you purred. He didn’t hear you, his eyes were closed and he was moaning over Toji’s cock so you slipped onto the floor next to him, one hand running up his thigh to rub his erection through the fabric of his pants and the other one combed through his undercut until you got to the thick of his hair. Toji removed his hand off of his cheek so you could talk to him. You gently tugged his hair until he released Toji’s cock with a soft pop . “Enjoying yourself?”

Nanami looked at you from the corner of his eyes, breathing heavily. Your fingers on his erection made him painfully hard, his hand coming to rest on top of yours. Cum mixed with spit dripped down his chin and you collelected it with your thumb, pushing it up back into his mouth until he sucked on your digit, then you stared straight at Toji. Kento’s eyes were low and heady, making Toji ache even more. He had such long lashes and blinked slowly at him, daring him to say something. You grabbed Nanami by the chin and gave him a kiss, breaking the trance both men were in. 

It wasn’t your first time kissing Nanami. It was New Years during undergrad, and you were happy and drunk and willing to kiss anybody who was within arm’s reach. Nanami just happened to be the closest. It was a drunk and clumsy kiss that led to laughter and shouting “Happy New Year” right in his ear. You only vaguely remembered it the next day, apologizing profusely to your friend who said it wasn’t a big deal. 

However, this kiss was nothing like the one you two had shared those many nights ago. It was downright filthy, full of tongue and teeth, push and pull. The kiss was going to be burned in your mind forever. The fact that Toji was watching you made you put on a show, and Nanami felt the same heated eyes sweep over him. You made quick work with the buttons on Nanami’s shirt, almost popping them in your haste. Kento’s hand slipped past your waistband, gathering the arousal from your sex and fucking you leisurely with his middle finger in contrast to how ravenous he was with his mouth. Toji started to stroke himself from the scene in front of him, and immediately your eyes opened and wandered over to him. Your lips were still moving against Nanami’s, but you took Toji’s length in your free hand and he let go of himself. He watched your hand wrap around him, hissing when you thumbed his slit and you finally broke your kiss with Nanami. 

Nanami’s lips went down to your neck when he no longer had access to your mouth. Your perfume was the same type of subtle sweetness of the wine he drank, intoxicating him further. He managed to remove some of your clothes in his frenzy, and he was finally able to see the delicate lace bra you were wearing that was purple. Your nipples were visible through the berry fabric and peeking over the top of the cup, your breasts threatening to spill over completely. You tilted your head down to Nanami as he left a mark on your chest. 

“Help me out, Kento.” You gestured to Toji’s cock still hard in your hand. You kissed the bottom of his shaft, expecting Nanami to take care of the head. 

“ Fuck .” Toji had two mouths and two different hands on his cock, all moving at different speeds but had the same goal in mind. He had no idea how he was able to hold back from cumming for so long while looking at the both of you on your knees. Sometimes you’d switch off, Nanami flattening his tongue on the underside to feel the large vein hidden there while you swirl your tongue on the head, focusing solely on his tip. Your nose would bump Nanami’s moving around, and when it happened you would share a sloppy kiss before returning to the task at hand. Toji’s balls tightened, and he gave a warning through clenched teeth. 

“I’m going to cum.” 

Once again Nanami was at the top, his lips sealed tight around Toji. You backed off, opting to gently stroke the base of his cock as they had their moment.

“Do not get it in my eye,” Nanami warned. His voice was husky from using his throat but you weren’t sure that Toji could actually hear him. Their stare was electric, and Nanami openly gazed at Toji when he stuck out his tongue, waiting for him to cum. You stroked Toji harder while he cursed and shouted, painting Kento’s accepting mouth and face. The ribbons of cum slowed and some spurted on Nanami’s chest. Nanami looked down on the mess made on his chest, and before he could say anything you licked it off of his body. You didn’t want any of it to go to waste and Nanami wiped the ones off of his face by scooping it off of his finger and salaciously cleaned it off. 

“Take off your clothes,” you ordered when you looked back at your husband. He snapped out of his post-orgasm daze to shrug off his pants and shirt, tossing them to some corner of the room. 

“We were going to have some fun when we got back home,” you shrugged when Nanami wordlessly raised his brow at the blue plug seated in Toji’s ass. He grabbed the base and turned it slowly inside of Toji, who stifled a groan deep in his chest. 

“Is that why you always act like that? You need to have your attitude fucked out of you to behave?”

“Watch it, Nanamin. I could say the same about you,” you quipped. As far as you were concerned, you were the only one who could call out Toji for his brattiness. 

“I’m not the one prepped and ready to go.”

“Not everybody is as vanilla as you, blondie,” Toji smirked. “You should try it someday. It would help that stick in your ass that I was talking about.” 

“All you have to do is ask, Kenny,” you whispered in his ear. Your hand ran down his back, feeling the small of his waist and then cupped his ass. “Either one of us can make you feel good, I promise.” 

The offer was tempting, especially coming from your lips. Your fingers made mindless shapes on his skin, making his heart race. 

“I believe you,” he breathed.

A small smile formed on your lips. “Good. Next time, alright? Let’s not keep my baby waiting.” You kneeled beside Toji on the bed, taking his mouth to tongue him down, leaving Nanami to his devices. 

He watched the scene in front of him, you stroking Toji and your mouth melded in his. Nanami’s fingers grazed over his lips, remembering how yours felt while he grabbed a condom. He pulled the plug out of Toji, taking a moment to view how ready he was, and more blood went straight to Nanami’s cock. He slowly eased himself in Toji’s entrance, pulling back when only the tip entered just to annoy the other man. Toji’s eyes opened to glare at Nanami, then he hooked his leg around his waist, dragging him down and closer. Kento’s hands braced themselves on both sides of Toji’s body, his length going deeper inside of him as he tried to hold himself up. 

“So fucking impatient,” Nanami growled. He pushed the rest of his cock in Toji who moaned loudly in your lips. His teeth dug into your lips, and your free hand found its way to the apex of your thighs, circling your own bud from heated desire. Nanami held nothing back from Toji, fucking him with all the roughness your husband craved. Toji’s eyes rolled to the back of his head when Nanami put his leg over his shoulder to reach the end of him. 

“F-fuck, Kento,” he bit out. Nanami was fucking him like he had something to prove, and Toji was feeling it in his guts. Your hand on his cock only heightened his sensitivity. Then, in his brief moment of clarity, Toji coaxed you to sit on his face. There was no reason for you to get yourself off when his mouth was free, and it would help him to stop drooling over Nanami’s mind breaking strokes. 

You straddled yourself over Toji’s face and he wrapped his arms around your thighs to hold you closer. His nose teasingly nudged your clit, causing you to double over. You splayed your hands over his stomach and gyrated your hips on his tongue. 

Your hands roamed your own body until reaching your chest. Surprisingly your bra was still on, but the cups were pulled down under your bust and you tweaked your own nipple. You were too caught up in the feeling of Toji’s tongue fucking you to take it off completely. Toji who knew exactly what you needed stretched his arm to twist your other nipple.Your moans were not the only ones that could be heard in the room. Nanami gave soft grunts as he fucked Toji, and all of Toji’s noises were muffled by your sex. You grabbed Toji’s wrist and urged him to grab your whole breast tightly. With your head thrown back you wished he could put his hands around your neck instead. You were grazing your throat when your eyes fluttered open, staring up at the ceiling before jerking from Toji’s hands. He rubbed fast circles on your clit that choked you up. You drew ragged breaths that made Nanami swing his hips faster, matching the cadence of your moans. The legs around Toji’s head queened tighter as you rapidly approached your climax, but he chased that high as if it was his own. His tongue skillfully chipped away at your sanity.

“Ke-Kento,” you whined, begging him for help. Not that he’d want to in this situation. His body drifted towards your voice, and you stretched across to meet his mouth again. Your hands balanced yourself on Toji’s stomach again, grabbing his cock to stroke him quickly. You and Nanami shared breaths, your mouth grazing over each other’s before kissing again. Toji’s moans prompted yours, leading to Nanami biting your bottom lip. Every emotion was felt between all three of you, currents of energy jumping from one person to the next. Nanami wasn’t fucking you, but he might as well have been from all the noise you were making. 

You snapped first. You broke the connection of your lips from Nanami’s, throwing your head back to ride out your high on Toji’s tongue. Kento watched you unravel with hearts in his eyes. Your fingers left angry red marks on Toji’s wrists, as you tried to hold his hands while you spiraled down. Toji tightened dangerously around Kento, and despite his will not to Kento came the same time he did. Nanami filled the condom, and Toji painted his own stomach and chest with come for the second time of the night. Muffled curse words shuddered through clenched teeth left everyone’s mouth. You fell to your side in a heap, your head resting next to Toji’s knee as you tried to catch your breath. Nanami had just enough strength to pull out and take off his condom before collapsing on top of Toji. He’d worry about the sticky mess he’s lying on top of later. When your eyes fluttered open to see Toji’s arm thrown over Nanami’s back you let out a breathy giggle. 

Toji spoke first. “Is dinner still going to happen or…” 

Nanami scowled, pinching his thigh and your giggles turned into full on laughter. 

“All you do is take,” Kento grumbled. Toji gave his ass a playful slap in response.

“I guess you two can never really change, but this was a much needed first step,” you snorted. “But seriously, when are we going to eat, Kenny?” 

One would think you meant food. That’s what came out of your mouth, but your eyes hungrily swept over Nanami. 

“Vacuums. You both are vacuums.” 

#minimoe #momowritings #black fem reader #x black reader #jjk #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk nanami

[fayes-fics]

Lessons Applied

Lessons Series Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome)

Summary: it’s time the Viscount learned a lesson…

Warnings: 18+smut, minors DNI, threesome, d/s relationships - sub!Anthony dom!Benedict switch!reader, dirty talk, light bondage, pussy spanking, hair pulling, handjobs, edging, nipple clamps, fingering. cockwarming, anal sex, vaginal sex, double penetration. Watch out, there are also some emotions in this one.

Word count: 10.0k (I'm so sorry...)

Author's Note: Please read the warnings, and if you are looking for something romantic and vanilla, please look elsewhere. If you don’t mind DP filth, step up. Thank you to @colettebronte for her invaluable advice when knocking this into shape. I'm still not sure I like this, but I can't mess with it forever. So my apologies go to @iboopedyournose, who gave me a brief for this installment where Anthony has the tables turned on him and is submissive. Enjoy <3

You are on the balcony observing Anthony Bridgerton as he effortlessly makes his social rounds at the latest soirée. Your bottom is still smarting a little from the riding crop he used on you last night.

There is movement behind you, and you know who it is by cologne alone. You can’t school the smile tugging at your lips.

“Can’t sit down yet?” 

“Not comfortably. He was particularly harsh,” you reply dryly.

“Mmm, yes, I thought it a little excessive,” Benedict opines softly, drawing up next to you. “You should turn the tables; give him a taste of his own medicine,” he chuckles.

“Hah!” you laugh, glancing sideways to catch his handsome profile as he scans the crowd. “You are very droll.”

“I mean it. For the right person, he would be willing to cede control,” Benedict says quietly, not wanting your inappropriately intimate conversation to be heard by others milling in the vicinity.

“Really?” you feel sceptical about it. In all of your time with Anthony, he has been a classic dominant even before Benedict became part of your dynamic. But Benedict knows his brother much better than you.

Below, the master of ceremonies announces for everyone to gather in the gardens, and the balcony starts to thin out as people move towards the staircases. 

“He’d only do it for someone he truly trusts. And I think that might be you,” Benedict’s tone is affectionate as you both track Anthony’s movements out of sight.

“Hmm, I’ll try it, on one condition,” your mouth ticks into an amused pout as you twist to face him.

He turns to face you as well, smirking in a bemused fashion. “Name it.”

“You help me,” you cross your arms and raise an eyebrow in challenge.

It is just the two of you left now on the balcony as the crowd files out of the French doors beneath.

He chuckles and then leans close, his lips near your cheekbone, and his hands settle on your waist. “Do I have to submit to you too?” His voice is a teasing murmur.

“Do you want to?” you whisper back, touching his forearms.

“Hmm, maybe someday,” he offers thoughtfully, his fingers squeezing you gently. “But I think I’d prefer the privilege he had that first time we met. He got to do whatever he wanted to you, but I had rules. I want him to be the one under rules, and I get to do whatever I want.” He runs a thumb slowly down the front of your dress. “And I want him to watch as I destroy you, darling girl.”

You are panting at the thought of Anthony under your control as Benedict unleashes his full potential.

“God, yes,” you breathe, swaying close to his face, hungry to kiss him.

“Mmmm, not here, not now,” he intuits your desire, his breath hot on your face. “Save it for our session. Anticipation makes it so much sweeter, I find,” his voice almost an octave lower, his hand hovering over the junction of your thighs through your dress. “But if you need a little something to tide you over…” he adds, eyes glittering with menace. 

You nod enthusiastically.

Double-checking that the entire room is empty now, he yanks your dress up and sneaks a hand under the hem. Somehow he expertly locates your clit and pinches it between his thumb and pointer finger. Hard. Almost painfully. You gasp and stutter.

“This is mine, do you hear me?” his tone utterly authoritative.

“Yes, sir,” you quiver.

“You do not have permission to touch it until our next session, understood?” he intones.

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good girl,” he rumbles, and the fingers are gone before you can even register your thoughts.

He sucks them into his mouth, staring you down, watching your pupils dilate and your mouth open a fraction—he loves to tease you.

“I will know,” he warns, “just one look at you, and I will know if you disobeyed me.”

“What will you do if I disobey?” you whisper fervently.

“I would probably tie you down, worse than you will to Anthony, tease you until you screamed the damn walls down. Just keep taking you so close to the edge of bliss but not letting you over,” his deep voice a warning bell to behave.

“And If I’m a good, obedient girl?” you query, already breathless.

“I will make you come so many times you pass out,” his devastating crooked grin in full effect.

“Sir, you are dangerous,” you smile in response.

“Says the woman willing to punish my brother,” he lobbies back playfully.

“Only if you help me,” you remind.

“Nothing will give me greater pleasure, my girl,” he assures lightheartedly, offering his arm to walk you outside to the festivities.

—

“My lord,” you bow and signal Anthony to sit in the wingback chair in Benedict’s bachelor lodgings. 

At the end of the soirée, Benedict had suggested you all go back to his for a nightcap; as he did so, he had sent you a conspiratorial wink.

Anthony frowns, bemused by your theatrics, but takes the proffered seat.

“How is your bottom, darling girl?” he smirks, pulling you down to straddle his lap, pushing your dress above your knees so you can do so.

“Not great,” you pout, placing your hands on his shoulders as he huffs a laugh.

“Then do not be such a naughty one,” he replies, hands running heavily over your body. 

“Well, that is just the thing. I do not think I was that naughty,” you counter, heart fluttering a little as you unbutton Anthony’s waistcoat; Benedict moves to stand behind the chair, catching your eye with a quick smile.

“Is that so?” Anthony's smirk grows bigger, his eyes sparkling, loving when you are a little mischievous and wilful with him.

“No, in fact,” you roughly tug the waistcoat down his arms so they are trapped in place, “I do not think you were fair at all,” your voice lively but with a hard edge. 

“Does my girl have a problem with her lord?” his ask laced with intrigue, chasing your lips with his own.

“Maybe your girl wants her lord to behave himself for once,” you whisper as seductively as you can, teasing with your lips but never letting him meet them.

“Oh, does she?” his tone is low and mirth-filled. “What does she want him to do, hmm? Submit to her will?” He doesn’t seem to be objecting; in fact, he seems rather engaged with the tease of it all.

“Yes,” you say boldly, holding his arms firmly trapped, finally allowing his lips to land on yours. You kiss him deeply, setting the rhythm, and a thrill runs through you when he lets you, your lips and tongue chasing him for a change.

“Maybe he just might,” is his quiet whisper, and the euphoric buzz in your veins is electric. 

Benedict was right. You don’t look at him, but you allow one hand to slide out of Anthony’s hair and reach for him over the back of the chair as you move to kiss Anthony deeply again. Instead of just perhaps holding it as you might expect, Benedict takes your hand up to his mouth and sucks your fingers obscenely, lathing his warm tongue over and between them. It makes you push deeper into Anthony’s lap as you kiss, plundering his mouth and rocking your core over his growing bulge, loving the power you have over him pinned under you.

“Oh darling girl,” Anthony sighs, sounding under a spell as you release his lips, and Benedict lets go of your hand, “you are doing so very well at this,” he flatters. “What are you planning to do?”

“Well, my lord,” you manoeuvre him out of the waistcoat, toss it aside, then grab his braces and twine them around your fingers. “Maybe I tie you down a little? Maybe I punish you just a little.” As you whisper, you watch his pupils rapidly dilate and feel his breath go ragged, his chest heaving slightly under you.

“My wonderful filthy girl,” he pants, “I have taught you so well.”

“Mmmm, I am a keen observer, and tonight you do not call me girl,” you trace a thumb over his lips, “you call me lady.”

“Yes, certainly, my lady,” he answers with a smile.

“Oh yes, that’s it,” you gasp and delve in for another bruising kiss, pushing down his braces around his hips, basking in how compliant he has become under your touch. You grasp his hair near the scalp, and he hisses onto your lips. “Now I have rules for you tonight, my handsome boy.”

His eyes flash at the new title you have bestowed on him. “I’m all ears, my lady,” Anthony says sotto voce, complying as you pull up and remove his shirt.

“You don’t get to touch me unless I say you can. You don’t get to touch yourself unless I say you can. But I can touch you whenever and wherever I want. Understood?” you bark as your eyes roam his toned torso.

“Understood, my lady,” he confirms with an almost blissful smile. “What about my brother? Is he to submit to you too?” 

Benedict rounds the chair swiftly and grabs your hair, pulling your head backwards, so you look up at the sharp underside of his jawline.

“Oh no, brother,” Benedict responds with a bemused lilt, “she’s mine. You get to watch.”

Anthony groans, “I love watching you be fucked hard, my gi… my lady,” he amends quickly. 

You smile at his correction and recall how Anthony’s eyes had burned into you, stroking his cock fervently as his brother fucked you for the first time a few weeks ago at Aubrey Hall. 

Benedict releases his grip as you stand up from Anthony’s lap and place your left foot lightly on his knee. 

“Remove my shoe,” you order softly. 

He smiles at you and delicately grabs your ankle. His hand is warm through your stocking as he pulls the shoe off your heel, then slides it off your toes, placing it gently on the floor. 

“Well done, my darling boy,” you smirk and watch him take a hitching breath as you push your dress up slightly and grab the ribbon holding your stocking above your knee, unfurling it slowly. 

You know from where he sits that he can see up your chemise to your bare cunt. You watch his eyes track up your inner thigh. 

“Do you like what you see?” you tease lightly as the ribbon falls away, and you push the stocking slowly down your leg until it pools on his thigh. 

“Yes, my lady,” he answers keenly, licking his lip.

You see a wash of disappointment on his face as you lower your leg, but it’s only temporary, as you kneel and wind your stocking around his wrist and the arm of the chair—tying it in a neat bow after a few loops. The look on his face is now priceless, and Benedict chuckles from where he is leaning a few feet away. 

You put your right leg up on Anthony’s other knee expectantly, and he knows instantly to remove the shoe, which proves a little trickier now one-handed. As it clatters to the floor from his hand, you inhale sharply as Benedict suddenly crowds into your back as you undo the ribbon on your stocking.

“Did you touch yourself since I warned you not to, my girl?” his tone sinful, a large hand wrapped loosely around your throat, his lips trace the shell of your ear, and you freeze your motions. 

This is all for show. Benedict only warned you three hours ago; you’ve had no time alone since then to touch yourself, and he knows it. You push your body into his solid frame, clit throbbing as you feel his rigid cock slide across your tailbone.

“No, I promise, sir, I’ve been good,” you murmur.

His free hand tugs at your dress, pulling your hem all the way up around your hips, so your lack of underwear is apparent. Anthony is already breathing unsteadily; his trousers painfully tented. The hand at your throat releases and smears down your breastbone, the fingers spidering inside your dress and pinching your nipple, Benedict’s teeth grazing the cord of your neck.

“Undo my ribbon,” you call to Anthony, and his free hand shoots forward to unfurl the ribbon on your thigh.

Anthony’s fingers trace seductively down your leg, taking your stocking with him as Benedict teases your breast, flexing his fingers expertly, making you squirm into him. You know he is enjoying the liberty to play with your body as his brother watches on, powerless to participate.

“I love how you writhe when I squeeze your nipples,” Benedict drawls right in your ear, “I could do this for hours, just tease you, but I suppose I should let you tie him down properly,” withdrawing his hand from inside your neckline and giving you an insouciant bite on the neck. 

You bend over provocatively, pushing your bottom right into Benedict’s crotch as you take the other stocking from Anthony and secure his right hand onto the chair. He is now tied down at your mercy, and the sight causes a hot wave of want to gallop through your chest. He could fight out of the stockings easily, it's a symbolic hold as much as anything, but he doesn't. He sits there docile, looking up at you through heavy lashes and a soft pout, cock straining against his trousers, the chest hair across his pectoral muscles rising and falling with his rapid breaths. You want to climb on and ride him so hard he cries your name.

“Kiss me right now, my lovely boy,” you command.

He smiles so happily and leans forward joyfully, meeting your lips again as Benedict surges his cock onto your bottom and maps your body with his hands. He starts to pluck open the buttons at your shoulder blades, each relenting with a small rock into Anthony's kiss. His hands round your shoulders, roughly tug your dress, and chemise down together, sliding until they hit the floor. You are naked now except for your stays, which feel too hot and tight over your breasts as you inhale deep at the sensation of Anthony's tongue and Benedict's greedy hands.

“Darling girl, you still have marks,” Benedict says quietly, his touch a gentle glide over the globes of your bottom.

Anthony breaks the kiss, his face contrite. “I am so sorry, my lady,” he whispers, ashamed.

“It is all right, my boy,” you assure, running your knuckles along his jawline. “But you will learn not to be so harsh again.” Your tone takes on an undercurrent of steely determination that makes his face morph into one of both admiration and trepidation.

“As much as I wish to spank this beautiful bottom, I think it needs a little longer to recover,” Benedict sighs and leans down to kiss your back, making your breath catch with the tender action. That he can make you feel so cared for causes a slight bloom in your chest, which feels too dangerously close to devotion. All you want is for the sentimental ache to be replaced with an erotic zing, a thrill of some kind that feels less emotionally vulnerable. You twist to look at him over your shoulder challengingly.

“Then fuck me right now instead,” you goad, knowing that being wilful with him always brings out his need to dominate.

He snarls and pulls you upright, backwards a few steps from Anthony, then spins you around, trapping you with his body, a hand snaking between your legs.

“I will,” his voice dripping with menace, a finger teasing your clit. The power dynamics at play are so beguiling as you switch between the domination of Anthony and submission to Benedict. You want to shock them both. Say or do something that makes them both crazed, feral—poking the proverbial bears under your thrall.

“Call me something derogatory,” you plead, almost ashamed of your request. 

Benedict’s middle finger presses higher, pushing your clit against your public bone. You inhale sharply, and when he doesn’t move, you hold his gaze and slowly rock on his finger, loving the sensation of your clit being so trapped. 

“You wanton little whore,” he growls.

That word on his sinful tongue causes a shiver down your spine and makes you flood over his hand.

“Only for you, sir,” you whisper back, sliding back and forth a little more, so you rub yourself from his fingertip to the base where his finger meets his hand, undulating your hips. “And for him,” you add, looking over your shoulder at Anthony, who is watching you with hooded eyes, longing to palm his obvious erection. The fact that he is so turned on watching you makes you moan, and your cunt clenches around nothing.

“I felt that,” Benedict purrs, surging his cock forcibly into your hip, moving his fingers back and sliding two easily along your slit. “Only we can touch you here,” he warns, and you are staring into his hazy blue eyes as two fingers suddenly spank your folds, making you squeal in surprise.

He spins you around to face Anthony, and you see his almost crazed wild look just as Benedict’s fingers spank you again. This is practically theatrical; he is putting on a show, aroused by the power dynamics and finally having free reign over you. Anthony’s gaze is licentious at the apex of your thighs. He watches you honeying over his brother’s questing hand as you gasp loudly, another spank there, wrapping both of your hands around Benedict's forearm. 

“Please, sir,” you appeal for clemency.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t loving this,” he blazes, “you are drenching my hand.”  

The sound of the wetness pooling there seems to echo around the room as he slides his fingers through your folds, teasing your clit with each pass. Anthony's responding moan is savage, gaze locked on you as you writhe hard. Benedict's eyes cut over to his brother.

“Isn’t she just beautiful like this, brother?” he taunts, “You should feel this; it’s exquisite.” Suddenly his hand is gone from between your legs, and he is sucking the fingers into his mouth with an appreciative noise. “And the taste is so delicious,” he adds.

Benedict’s large hand lands on your shoulder, and you feel the dampness of your arousal paint your skin as he presses down there until you kneel, still facing away from him. His other hand slides into your hair and pulls roughly. 

“You always look so fucking good on your knees,” Benedict's voice is gravelly. “I have half a mind to use your mouth right now. Doesn't she look amazing, brother?”

“You are a goddess, my lady,” Anthony asserts, eyes glittering as his hands flex in their bindings, almost as if they want to dive forward and drag you to him.

“And don't you forget it,” you murmur, even as Benedict pulls your hair as if you were his puppet, forcing you to look up and back at him.

“Tease him, my girl,” Benedict recommends as he gazes down at you imperiously, “do what he made you do to me in my library.” The memories come flooding back—Anthony ordering you to fondle Benedict's cock repeatedly but never allowing him to release until he came down your throat, shaking with need. “You remember, don't you?” Benedict continues, “make him desperate and writhing, feeling the exquisite pain of being so close to ecstasy but denied it. Over and over again, until it bleeds into something so heady, your whole body wants to burst.” 

The words fall out of him from experience, This feels like payback, and you look up to see the disquiet in Anthony's eyes—the karmic moment of realising that harsh lessons have a way of coming back to haunt one. And you want to do it. Edge Anthony until he is craving and needy, a panting wanton mess just for you. You remember the teeming desperation of Benedict’s kiss as you denied him over and over as Anthony ordered you to keep going. This will be the exact reverse.

Benedict releases your hair, and you fall forward onto your hands. Your gaze holds Anthony’s as you slowly place one hand before the other, prowling cat-like over the hard polished wood floors towards him. You watch his whole frame move with each inhale and exhale, like the act of breathing is laborious but also somehow pleasurable. You run your hands over his legs, loving the feel of his muscles tensing as he squirms, tied down in the chair.

“Hello, my pretty boy,” you tease with a smirk, “do you know what I'm going to do?”

“Yes,“ his whisper is ardent, and you can't help but hold his fiery gaze, surging up to capture his lips in a searing kiss.

“Please, my lady,” he pleads as your hand falls to his crotch, the heat seeping through the material as his cock strains against it. 

He makes a noise that is all animal as you squeeze him and start to pull open the buttons at his hip roughly. As you suspected, he's not wearing underwear, and his familiar cock springs out, already leaking so very eagerly. You take him in hand, and he growls. The chair squeaks under his thrust into your loose grip.

“Nuh uh uh,” you tut, the pointer fingernail of your other hand catching deliciously on his pursed lip. “You sit still like a good boy, and maybe I’ll take you in my mouth too.”

“Please…” his broken groan is lewd; you can see him fighting every cell in his body to stay still for you.

You begin a languid rhythm with your fist, and he closes his eyes, bites his lip and whimpers just a touch. His cock is so red and leaking so profusely that you genuinely wonder how long he will last. With your other hand, you tug his trousers further, and he pushes up his hips to allow you to slide them under his bum, and you have to temporarily release his cock to pull them down his legs and off. Now he is fully naked and looks glorious. He whines loudly as you re-grasp his shaft and start to pump again. 

“You look so stunning naked, my darling boy,” you murmur, your other hand swirling a pattern in the hair on his chest, and his whole being seems to swell with pride.

“Thank you, my lady,” he responds humbly, and something about him being so meek makes you want him so much you just want to fuck him right now, ride him regardless of the consequences.

You keep hold of his cock and push up to kneeling. Anthony senses you want to talk to him and moves forward in the chair as much as possible while tied down.

“I want to ride you right now,” you whisper hotly but so quiet; it’s just for his ears.

The hitch in his breath is like poetry. “I want that more than air, my lady,” his voice a broken breeze over your face.

“I’ve never seen your cock so red and wanting; it looks delicious, my wonderful boy,” you flatter.

“Please, please take me into your beautiful mouth,” he is wrecked. So desperate for you; you can feel it in your bones. His body is calling to you, his lips pleading. 

“Remove your hand,” the commanding voice from a few paces away interrupts your thoughts, and you obey without question, so conditioned to be the perfect submissive yourself. Anthony whines loudly at the loss of contact. “Sit back on your haunches and stop whispering to him,” Benedict orders, and you can hear the jealousy woven into words. He doesn't like that you are sharing an emotional moment with Anthony, and it makes you want to laugh at the irony—that is precisely what you shared with him when he was in Anthony’s shoes. He probably doesn't even see his own hypocrisy and certainly wouldn't appreciate you pointing it out. 

Benedict moves behind you, long fingers plucking at the strings of your stays, loosening the criss-cross laces holding your last piece of clothing. It's somehow fitting that you and Anthony are both going to be naked before Benedict has so much as removed a stitch of clothing save his jacket. And again, a mirror image of that moment in Benedict's library, just next door, all those weeks ago, when you and he were naked as Anthony barely removed a stitch to fuck you. Suddenly you realise why he wanted to return here tonight, to redress the balance in the same building. 

“You may touch him again,” Benedict chimes and instantly, your hand is back on Anthony, who whimpers with relief, leaking over your knuckle, his wrists flexing under their bindings.

Once again, you feel the weight of Anthony’s stare, and your eyes cut away from his cock to meet his—a ring of burnt umber iris around his dilated pupils. He seems to be silently begging you to let him release, but you both know it won't happen. There is something so beguiling about his desperation, though.

“Do not let him come,” Benedict warns cooly, and you slow your hand. 

Your stays loosen to the point they fall down your arms, and Benedict stops your ministrations to pull your hands off his brother entirely and remove your last scrap of material.

“Look how sensitive her nipples can be, brother,” he riles his sibling as he snags them both almost painfully between the tips of his pointer and thumb. You inhale tremulously and grip Anthony’s knees hard, instinctively leaning back into Benedict, even as your eyes still hold his brother’s. His chin rests on your shoulder as he keeps teasing you until they are stiff peaks, you writhing slightly under his touch as the buzz of pleasure-pain grows. He is not gentle, and it's precisely what you need. 

“I may have been in France lately,” he adds conversationally, addressing you both. “Tell me, my girl, have you read Justine?”

Your breath catches in your throat. The scandalous book by the Marquis de Sade was your sexual awakening.

“Yes, sir.”

“Mmm, good,” he rumbles as he continues to pull on your nipples to the point you gasp. “Grab him again. I shall be back.”

Even though Benedict leaves the room and is out of sight, you grab Anthony's cock as you were told and stroke him again.

“My lady, please let me come,” his eyes so large, his long lashes blinking so appealingly as his toned chest heaves. 

“No,” you retort quietly as your nipples throb and miss Benedict's fingers, “I have more plans for you.”

“What plans?” he almost stutters, ragged.

“I cannot go tonight without this sublime cock being inside me,” you admit as Benedict reenters the room with a little box, a small bowl of water and a bottle of clove oil. You recognise the product - it is used to make anal penetration comfortable, and your heart leaps into your throat. You have not crossed that line with either of them yet.

“Release him,” he commands, and you do so. 

Anthony almost howls, a vein in his temple throbbing, all the tendons in his neck tensing. Part of your heart goes out to him; part of you wants to keep him like this all day. Teeming with need and so wildly ravishing when so on edge. 

“Turn to face me. Stay on your knees.” You do as bidden; Benedict feels so tall as you kneel submissively before him, keeping your head bowed. “Look at me,” and you lift your sights to him, not missing the straining bulge at your natural eye line. 

He snaps open what looks like a jewellery box and holds out a small metal item, almost resembling an earring but with a small round loop and a teardrop blue jewel hanging from two prongs.

“Do you know what this is?” he asks, holding it closer to your face.

“No sir,” you admit honestly.

“I remembered how much you enjoyed it when I slipped your hairpins over your nipples some weeks ago,” he smiles, and you blush at the memory. “So I purchased you a special gift in Paris recently. It is designed to clamp onto your delightful nipples,” he explains as you feel your body tingle at the idea. “They can be adjusted to make your pleasure more… acute,” he smirks.

“Oh, thank you so much, sir. They are splendid. Please put them on me,” you beseech, and a tart-tasting thumb hooks into the corner of your mouth.

“You are such a good obedient little thing, aren’t you?” his tone impressed, and you blossom under his praise. 

You would do anything to please him. You shuffle forward on your knees and nuzzle your face onto his straining cock, as it almost threatens to tear the seams of the wool.

“Not yet,” he clucks, “you get your treat later,” he proclaims, pulling you away as you attempt to suckle him through the material. “Shoulders back,” he taps your skin, and you do so, presenting your breasts to him. “Good girl.”

Those two words are always catnip to you; you want to do everything he says when they roll decadently over his tongue. He could parade you naked in public on all fours, like a little pet, and you would do it. 

“What delightful thoughts are running through that sharp mind of yours,” he asks with a knowing smile, stroking your cheek fondly.

“Just how much I enjoy pleasing you, sir,” you reply truthfully without giving specifics.

Suddenly he grabs a nipple and slips the clamp over it. The pinch and pressure he selects takes you by surprise. 

“You’ll have to give me more detail than that, or I slide this tighter,” he cautions.

“How I would do anything for you, sir,” you amend, your voice going a little reedy as your nipple starts to tingle and throb lightly with your pulse.

Before you know it, the other nipple is trapped with the same force. You gasp as both start pulsing. It makes your clit throb, too, in sympathy almost.

“How I would let you parade me naked in public,” rushes out of your lips with a hiss before you can stop it.

“My darling girl,” his voice suddenly rough. “I want that; everyone should know you belong to me.” Behind you, Anthony growls. “To us,” Benedict amends quickly with a nod.

That Anthony thinks he has a right to claim you when he is tied up submissively makes you want to laugh. 

“Sir, may I have your permission to deal with my defiant boy?” you request drolly.

Benedict barks a laugh. “Granted, my love.” It’s the first time he’s used such a term of endearment, and your eyes dart to his. You see a sliver of panic slicing the usual calm of his demeanour, the dominant mask he wears slipping a fraction. You don’t want to say anything to jeopardise the moment, but something feels tender and taut like an invisible cord could snap if you react wrong, unravelling the wonderful scene you have built together. You opt to ignore or treat it as if it means nothing.

“Thank you, sir,” you respond brightly, and he seems to exhale a relieved breath.

Your nipple throb as you swing around on your knees and address Anthony.

“What makes you think you may lay claim to me, pretty boy?” your voice steely. “I think you may be forgetting who is in charge of you here tonight,” your eyebrow almost at your hairline, so excited to see how he will react.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” he bows his head. “I am so used to thinking of you as mine. I am, of course, yours,” he assures, not daring to meet your gaze.

His long-abandoned cock throbs in his lap. He has sat patiently without reward as Benedict clamped your nipples. But you want to punish him some more before you reward him with your body.

“Sir, do you have any clean paintbrushes?” you ask over your shoulder to a bemused Benedict.

“Of course,” and he walks to his easel returning with a medium bristle brush, handing it to you.

“Thank you, sir” you smile up at him, and he pets your hair affectionately.

“More importantly, what are you planning to do with it?” his tone amused.

“I’m going to make my boy here a moaning ticklish mess,” you reply with a wicked grin.

Anthony groans as you immediately run the bristles lightly up his inner thigh, the muscle quivering. 

“Maybe this gentle torture will teach him that sometimes the harshest punishments of them all are the softest,” you say pointedly to no one in particular. Still, the ironic laugh from Benedict suggests he appreciates it. You swirl the brush over the head of Anthony’s cock, and he groans gutturally, heavy puffs out of his nose. “And you don’t need to leave heavy marks on someone to teach them a lesson.”

“Oh dear brother, there are most definitely some lessons being applied here,” Benedict says with a wry smirk, perhaps a touch uncharitably, revelling in his freedom as his brother is teased so thoroughly.

Anthony leaks again over the bristles of the brush, and you paint his precum down his shaft as he pants and squirms harder.

“Please, my lady,” he implores on a jagged exhale, “please do not tease me more. I promise I have learned my lesson not to treat your body so harshly.”

“And do you promise that if you ever leave such harsh marks on my body again, I have every right to do the same to you?” It's a daring proposition you make, knowing he’s hardly in a position to negotiate as you slowly drag the bristles over his balls.

He snuffles, and you can see him warring with the idea, his eyes a maelstrom. “Yes, my lady,” he agrees through clenched teeth.

“Good boy,” you compliment and push up to kiss him hotly, invading his mouth with a predatory kiss. 

“Well, I think he has earned a show,” Benedict opines rhetorically, “And it’s high time this lovely girl had an orgasm,” he adds, taking the brush from your fingers.

He walks away and drags another wingback chair right in front of the one Anthony is tied to. Then he sits in it while you are still kneeling between them.

“Climb into my lap, darling girl,” he coos invitingly, and you obey instantly, curling into his lap almost catlike. He kisses you hard and heavy, a hand holding your jaw. “Face him,” Benedict nudges your nose as your part. You twist and face Anthony as you perch in his lap. “Now open those legs wide and show him your pretty cunt, do it,” the words are murmured warmly in your ear, and you obey. Bringing your feet onto Benedict's knees and splaying your thighs out wide. “Good girl,” he flatters, and you moan as his fingers slide over your pubic hair and into your folds.

You know this is to rile Anthony even more. He cannot even touch himself as you are being pleasured. 

“Be nice and vocal now; show him how good this is,” Benedict lectures, his fingers instantly making you flex your toes around his kneecaps, and you savour the heat of his cock branding your lower back as he circles your clit with just the perfect amount of pressure.

‘It feels so good, sir,” you raise your arms and wrap your hands back around his neck without prompting, which he greatly approves of, the jewels of your clamps catching the light and sparkling brilliantly as you flex with each touch. 

“Good girl, cling to me; look how pretty your nipples look. All swollen and sparkling with my jewels,” he compliments, staring down the plain of your body. “Now tell me what you want.”

“I want your fingers inside me, sir,”  you respond, ensuring you hold Anthony’s gaze, jealousy and covetousness written all over his features.

Benedict does as you ask, sliding two long elegant fingers down your labia, hooking them into your pussy. His thumb pushes gently on your clit, moving his whole arm as he teases you with expert strokes. He knows exactly what you need and wastes no time taking you right where you want to go.

“Is that what you need?” his voice like rich honey.

“Oh god, yes, sir,” you nod and bite your lip for Anthony’s benefit, playing up just for your captive audience.

“Talk to me, pretty boy,” you call to Anthony.

“You look angelic, my lady,” he responds instantly.

“Tell me what you would do to me if you were free,” you goad, wanting him to talk explicit detail as Benedict expertly plays your body like an instrument.

“I would like to be on my knees between your legs, my lady. I want to bury my face into your beautiful flower, enrapture myself in your aroma, drink your nectar, caress your petals with my tongue,” he offers, his voice low and gravelly.

“Yesss,” you hiss, your mind conjuring the image of him knelt before you deferentially, his wrists bound together behind his back with your silks as his mouth brings you untold pleasures. You move one hand from around Benedict’s neck down and push it between your bodies, grabbing his rigid cock through the wool of his trousers, needing to feel steely power under your fingers. As you do so, you stare at Anthony’s cock, almost pulsing in time with your moans.

Benedict growls as you palm him, and his hand inside you speeds up. The room fills with the sound of his movement in your wet channel and the scent of your arousal. Your moans getting louder and more urgent. Anthony’s knuckles turn white where he grips the arms of his chair, his eyes trained between your legs.

“I bet your boy wishes this was him,” Benedict baits, “his fingers inside your gorgeous cunt, you grabbing his cock….” 

You giggle and blow Anthony a kiss, knowing the jibes are winding him up even further.

“So close, are you not?” Benedict mutters richly in your ear, somewhat superfluous; he knows your body so well now that he can sense all the signs of your impending orgasm.

You nod, panting loudly, climbing that invisible ladder where your skin feels flushed and your lips tingle. Benedict's other hand suddenly spans across your chest, and he is able to flick both clamped throbbing nipples at once. The jolt is like fire—the catalyst that hurtles you breakneck fast, screaming almost instantly. 

“Make a good show for him.” 

It’s the last thing you hear before the rush of blood in your ears, and you convulse hard, throwing your head back and shuddering full-bodied on his lap. You writhe, trying to evade the intensity, but he holds you open with his body strength, drawing it out into something that makes you scream again, leaking onto his fingers as he spouts encouragements. 

Spent, you slump back onto his chest, gulping deep breaths and pleading for him to stop. He stills his motions and withdraws his fingers, taking them to his mouth and licking them clean obscenely, staring down his brother, who is breathing raggedly. After a few moments, when you return to normal, Benedict senses your need for something else.

“What is it, my girl? What do you want?”

“I want to fuck my pretty boy,” you stumble as he caresses your face, your speech still drowsy from your orgasm.

Both men make a noise that exhilarates every ounce of your being.

“I will allow it,” Benedict concedes, “with one condition…. I get to fuck you too.”

Your brow knits. “Of course, you will, sir,” your voice portrays how facile you think his request is.

Benedict grabs your jaw to the side to ensure you look at him, into his eyes. “Oh no, you don’t understand,” he chuckles darkly. “At the same time,” he specifies, and your stomach feels as if it has taken flight.

“Sir…?” your disbelief a broken whisper, staring at him, mouth agape.

“You heard me. You will take both of us at once. And I get to choose which place I want.”

“But sir….” You begin to protest, nerves flaring.

“Give me your colour,” he demands, cutting right to the point.

“Green,” you mumble your truth. 

“Yes, that’s exactly what I thought,” he smirks.

You climb off Benedict’s lap and go to Anthony’s, like a safe harbour in a storm. Even though his hands are tied down, he strains his fingers to touch you, and you lace them with yours, taking comfort in him.

“I am nervous,” you confess quietly, sitting on his knees.

“Do not be my lady,” his tone pitched to reassure. “You know your sir would never hurt you,” he reminds.

“I know that; it's the intensity,” you answer. “You are both blessed with, how should I say, a familial trait of impressive size. I fear my body may be unable to accommodate you both at once.”

Benedict is suddenly close behind you. “Is your word closer to yellow or even red, my girl?” his commanding voice replaced with a gentler tone of concern.

“No sir,” you state clearly, “I just…. I have never experienced penetration into my other place beyond fingers.”

Benedict looks at his brother. “You have never…?” he asks quietly.

Anthony shakes his head.

“My apologies, darling girl,” Benedict mutters, “I made an error in my assumption. We do not need to do this…” he places a tender kiss on your shoulder.

“NO!!” you exclaim rather more forcefully than planned, taking them both by surprise. “I want to do this,” you clarify, “more than anything. I will just need for it to be slow.”

The brothers share a look you have long since realised is their silent communication. Somehow they know how to care for you without breaking the scene. It is why you cannot resist playing with them—the wonderful way they can both intuit your needs and work together to take you places you have never dreamed of. It's why you are so desperate to take them both at once; you trust them implicitly to make it unforgettable for you.

“You are a wonder, my lady,” Anthony murmurs, his eyes shining with reverence, squeezing his fingers around yours.

“Truly special, my girl,” Benedict adds, rubbing a soothing pattern over your spine. “I have a suggestion for how we can do this.”

“Tell us, brother,” Anthony breathes, his status as the elder statesman of the family somehow seeping out into the way he says it. 

You realise it must be a strange dynamic that, as firstborn, he is willing to submit to the will of his younger brother for you through you. Your admiration of him ratchets higher as your gaze falls again to his hands and how he has continued to respect the hold you have placed him in; a few easy moves, and he could be free. 

Unsure how to process the feeling, you surge forward and capture Antony’s lips in a searing kiss that takes him by surprise, as he does not respond for a split second. Then he is opening under your assault, and its fire in your lungs, burning bright. With the hand not holding Anthony’s, you reach blindly back for Benedict, and sweetly he brings your hand to his jaw and holds it there, leaning his face into your touch. Your tongue spars with Anthony’s, and it takes every fibre not to climb onto his cock, but you want to hear what Benedict has to say about how this can be done. Breaking your kiss with Anthony but keeping your hand tight in his, you whip around and pull Benedict down into a similarly passionate kiss, your nipple clamps dragging delightfully through the ruffles of his shirt as you press your body into him, moulding around him, his hands hot on your skin.

“What do you suggest, sir?” you pant over his mouth, squeezing Anthony’s fingers.

Benedict's lips run over your cheek and land hot on the column of your neck. “My brother should be the one you explore new territory with; I think you should take him inside your bottom while I fuck you, darling girl.”

You love the idea. And so does Anthony, based on the noise he makes. You twist slightly to meet his gaze.

“My lady, I want that. So very, very much. Please.” He whispers, his eyes imploring.

“I want that too,” you concur as Benedict’s lips run down to your shoulder.

“I believe you may find this easier laying down,” Benedict counsels, “my chaise over there may be best,” signalling a piece of furniture reminiscent of the one you all used in his art studio at Aubrey Hall. “But you could not tie him to it, alas.” he ends drily.

“I believe he may have learned his lesson well enough to be untied now,” you state, moving to unwrap the silk stockings over Anthony’s wrists.

Anthony looks overjoyed as his hands are finally freed, and without asking your permission, he bands his arms tight around you and stands, wrapping your legs and arms around him like a vine.

“My darling lady,” he dotes as he walks you over to the chaise, nuzzling your face.

“My beautiful boy,” you smile, running your fingers over the contours of his face, something so profound at that moment. 

This night seems so emotionally charged compared to others. As if this final hurdle of intimacy between the three of you represents a new chapter. You know these men will be so physically close doing this, with just you between them, that must represent a new level of understanding between them. 

“I need you both so much,” you admit honestly as Anthony sits down on the chaise with you in his lap.

“We need you too,” Anthony responds, his voice a little tight, and his lips find yours again in a sweet kiss as if sealing a pact as he shuffles to lay down with you on top of him.

“We really do,” Benedict concurs as he draws up behind you. “Let me prep you, my wonderful girl,” Benedict says gently with a quick kiss on the slope of your shoulder. 

You whisper your consent and widen your stance on top of Anthony. Benedict pulls your cheeks apart, and you jump slightly at the sensation of oil being poured there. You release a calming breath as Anthony whispers reassurances, your fingers entwined with his, your lips tracing his cheekbone, feeling a slight rasp of stubble there.

You groan as the sensation you have felt only once before, a swirling around your tight ring of muscle, then gradually fingertips applying pressure there that your body doesn't want to yield to.

“Relax, my girl,” Benedict’s voice is a soft tutor, “take a breath, let me in.” You do as asked and moan as a finger breeches inside you, fighting your body’s urge to push him out. “That's it,” he adds, and you relax into the invasive feeling, his finger moving deeper as another joins it.

You hum and close your eyes, rocking slightly back onto his hand, starting to enjoy the unusual sensation, the drag of his knuckles against your passage.

“Yes, darling girl, take me all in,” he says velvet dark, “you are doing so well.” 

Anthony strokes your hair and peppers light kisses on your face as you gaze at him with no doubt blown pupils and wide eyes, getting used to being filled somewhere new. Benedict adds a third finger and starts to make a scissoring action inside, and you can’t help but groan at the stretch as he pours more oil around and into your body.

“Anthony…,” you murmur his name, not your titles, on reflex, feeling susceptible, and he smiles reassuringly. 

“You do this so well; I cannot wait to try this new experience with you,” he offers honestly and kisses your lips delicately.

“I think you are ready, my girl,” Benedict states quietly, his fingers deep in you, spreading your muscles and coating you with more oil. “Rub some of this on his cock,” he coaches, placing the bottle in your hand and gradually withdrawing his fingers.

Anthony whimpers lightly as you lubricate his cock, ensuring it is glistening and shiny, looking somehow more appetising now than ever. Benedict cleanses his hands in the small bowl of water, then sweetly helps you to your feet to lay down backwards on top of Anthony. All you feel under your spine is the tickle of his chest hair and the play of muscles across his toned chest as you settle over him, glancing at the ceiling as if in a short prayer.

“Whenever you are ready,” Benedict whispers, “take him into your body, my darling.” Once again, it's a term of endearment without the girl moniker that you try to ignore. 

You shuffle on top of Anthony, who just holds your waist loosely. Taking a deep breath, you line him up. They are quiet as you do, giving you the space and time to do this at your own pace. You place your other hand over Anthony’s as you feel an entirely new sensation of his cock sliding bluntly between your cheeks.

“You are doing wonderful, my girl,” he reassures, grasping your fingers between his, and you give a brief nod in acknowledgement. 

You groan as he breaches your body and puff out air. It’s all heat and pressure. It feels so different, not unpleasant, just… odd. Anthony groans, too; his forehead rests on your shoulder as he seems to babble nonsense words. It must be intense for him too. So slowly, you sink down, taking time and deep relaxing breaths. Inch by inch, you sink lower, cataloguing each reaction your body has. After what seems like ages, you reach his root and let out a long low whimper—feeling so invaded and stretched.

‘Well done, darling girl. Benedict touches your face dotingly, and you beam up at him, the praise doing wonders for you. “Brother, you should hold her open,” Benedict advises, and Anthony moves his hands down to either side of your legs.

“I hope you like my hand imprints on your thighs, my lady,” he says softly into your neck. You don't have a chance to ask what he means before Benedict is giving orders again. 

“Hook your legs up his onto his arms. My brother will hold you,” Benedict lectures, and you slowly move into position, moaning as you feel Anthony flex inside your bottom as you do so.

Anthony’s strong fingers wrap around your inner thigh, and then you gasp as he pulls his arms upwards and outwards. You feel a slight burn in the tendons of your pelvis, legs forced so obscenely wide open and exposed.

“Perfect,” Benedict opines and stares at you. “I wish I could paint this moment. Look at you, all open and leaking, desperate for another cock.”

You can't stop the noise you emit; it's apprehension, want and nerves all wrapped in one. He starts to strip, enjoying his captured audience of you staring at him, almost open-mouthed. Your mind is still turning over the idea of taking both of them at once. As he roughly unbuttons his trousers, you find your voice.

“Sir, I'm not sure I can do this,” you pant, nerves flaring as his sizeable cock stares you right in the face. You feel so very full, impaled as you are on Anthony.

“Yes, you can,” he answers gruffly. “You know your safety word,” he warns. 

You clamp your lip between your teeth—that is the last thing you want to say. It’s like he senses you need a slight roughness of tone in this moment, a balance to the unspoken emotions bubbling away this evening.

“You know you can do it, my lady,” Anthony’s soft voice rings in your ear. “I’m right here, with you, inside you; you feel so wondrous.”

“You feel so good, too,” you whisper, surprised that is the case. The more you adjust to the feeling, the more you enjoy it. 

Then Benedict is climbing over you, all warm skin and lithe muscles. He is careful not to put too much weight on your body, his lips finding yours in a kiss as you feel his cock nestled hot on the apex of your thighs.

“Alright, sir, I'm ready,” you murmur as your lips part, and he cups your jaw, the blueish ring of his eyes flaring as his pupils dilate.

“I will go slow, I promise,” he rumbles, his thumb swiping tenderly over your cheek, and you feel his speech vibrating your ribcage.

Your body feels so hot pressed between them, Anthony's chest hair tickling your back as Benedict's warm skin covers yours, dragging your jewelled clamps, your nipples still throbbing insistently. And then you feel him reaching down to guide himself into your body.

You groan loudly as his tip nudges into your cunt. You have never felt so stretched in that region before. A curse falls from your lips, and Benedict pauses, allowing you to get used to this small amount.

“Are you alright?” he checks, his voice filled with affectionate concern.

“Yes sir, it's just…. it's so much,” you reply truthfully.

Anthony’s hands holding your thighs up and open, caress your skin in a soothing pattern as Benedict starts to move again, sliding deeper inside you. You have no words to describe the feeling except utterly full. Anthony is making small panting sounds under you, and you know they must be able to feel each other; you can feel them pressing against each other through the wall of your body. You make a long, continuous whining noise as he pushes further until finally, Benedict rests entirely inside you. 

“Well done, my wonderful girl,” Benedict gusts, sounding a little breathless already, “you feel so exquisitely tight.”

They both make sounds of pleasure as you move to kiss them both, swivelling to capture Anthony’s lips and then Benedict’s. You have never kissed them as much while you play as you do tonight. Something indeed so profound is happening between you.

“Im going to move now, slowly,” Benedict advises.

You find yourself incapable of words, so you just nod, one hand covering one of Anthony’s on your leg and the other resting on Benedict's shoulder.

You feel him withdraw slightly, then surge back in; your mouth falls slack, and your eyes roll back. Nothing could have prepared you for this. How it feels, how the motion and fullness pulls all your skin taut, your clit being pulled down towards his shaft so strong that you may not even need anyone to touch it to come.

You whine a curse as he repeats the motion, and you just know you won't last long like this, your body already so overwhelmed. Anthony behind you is already moaning gently too.

“Go faster, sir,” you goad, greedily chasing what you feel is headed for you.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes,” you answer with clenched teeth, “give it to me, sir, to us,” knowing the friction and tightness will probably be enough for Anthony without moving.

And that is the permission he needs.

Benedict starts to fuck you properly as he always does, and you cling on for dear life as he wrenches the most debauched noises and the most extreme sensations from your body. Every ounce of your being feels on fire, and you are hyper-aware of everything, the puff of their breaths on your damp skin, the noises each of them make, the pressure and intense pleasure you feel as Benedict ploughs into your cunt repeatedly while Anthony holds your ass open. And then Anthony begins to ripple under you, fractional surges into your body, and you lose all sense. You go limp and slackjawed, just letting them both take you somewhere that is so far away and yet so rooted in your body.

You know you are moaning and babbling nonsense, and you know they are wrenching the most filthy noises from your body, and you just don't care. All you want is for them never to stop. No words are spoken; in fact, you have temporarily lost the power of speech, so engrossed in just chasing all the feelings in your body, getting lost in the fog of both men moving inside and around you. All three of you are panting and moaning in unison as the rhythm you hit together adds another layer to the explosive dynamic. Over and over and over, you move as if one, some carnal dance that is astonishing and almost mystical. This is something so other, so uniquely shared and incredibly intimate, that you know things could never be the same between you again.

“Please…” you gasp, broken and panting, and they intuit precisely what you need. Benedict kisses you hard, all tongue and biting intensity, as one of Anthony’s hands snakes to your breast and pulls off one of your clamps.

The rush of blood to your nipple as it is released makes you yell out and convulse around them, and they both groan so deeply your whole body vibrates. 

“Holy f….” Anthony’s curse is broken and wrecked. “Do that again, just please, please do that again.”

“Take off the other one,” you implore desperately, and Benedict's fingers find the other clamp and yank it off roughly, and you scream. The throbbing in your clit is almost painful and in sync with your nipples.

“Oh my god,” Benedict groans, his hand roughly cups your breast, his mouth falls to your nipple, he sucks hard and then bites down, as Anthony snakes a hand between bodies, and as soon as his thumb brushes your clit, that is it, you are gone.

The intensity of your orgasm is almost frightening. Your whole pelvis convulses, contracting and rippling around both of them to the point they howl more like beasts than men. Every cell in your body feels changed, altered, broken and rearranged in a new pattern, your skin hums like static after a storm, and your heart feels ready to burst out of your chest. All you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears. You know the boys are calling out, but they have stopped moving, the crush of you tightening like a vice around them, faltering their movements. Vaguely, you feel something warm bloom in your bottom, and Benedict withdraws from your body suddenly.

When you return to presence, they are both breathing so hard your body is being pushed with their chests heaving, and you feel sticky wetness all around your thighs as Anthony slips from inside your body, and you groan at the change of sensation there.

“I… I don’t have the words for that,” Benedict admits, his head slumped onto your breastbone, sounding so overwhelmed.

“Same brother, same,” Anthony chimes in over your shoulder, his voice so rough that he clears his throat.

You cannot even speak, rendered dumbfounded, earth-shaken, mind-altered. They seem to accept your muteness, and their soothing hands skim your body silently as you all absorb the intensity of the experience you just shared. Your insides ache, but in a way that you are desperate to feel again. Part of you wants to pipe up your usual witty remark about ‘same time again tomorrow, boys’, but another part of you stops short. The atmosphere feels too precious to be glib, too tender and profound to dismiss with humour. 

And as they help you to your feet, they are extra loving, with lots of kisses and tender touches. Anthony goes to sanitise and relieve himself, and while he is gone, Benedict sees you stifle a yawn and convinces you to do something you never have before. To rest in his bedroom, Anthony joining you. 

You argue that it will just be for an hour, and then you will leave, but you fall asleep almost instantly. Sometime later, you awaken in the middle of the night and are sandwiched between their warm bodies. Both look so angelic as they sleep soundly, their limbs wrapped around yours. And for the first time ever, you choose to stay—to spend the night. As you drift back to sleep, your only thought is how a large part of you wants this, just this, always.  

Anthony & Benedict taglists: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @queenofmean14

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[thot-of-khonshu]

French Lessons

Pairing: Steven Grant X f! reader

Summary: You had been in desperate want to learn French, but the absolute droll of learning through a boring app was no fun. Coincidentally, you meet a brilliant gift shop clerk at the museum who can teach you French while you can teach him a thing or two about love.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (By proceeding to read beyond this warning, you agree that you are 18 years or older)

Word Count: 5K

Content: Explicit Smut, pining, masturbation references, dry humping, fingering, handjob, fluff, romance, French, Steven Grant, slight reference to Marc Spector

Notes: My Steven fic has finally arrived!! I'm hoping to turn this into a series because I have quite a few other ideas and I don't want to leave you hanging with just a taste of the two of them. But I hope you like it and share/reblog! Love y'all!

Updated Note: Wow!! Thank you so much for all of your kind words and notes. Part 2 is currently in the works and coming soon.

Part 2

Bonjour! Je m'appelle Vivienne Rousseau et bienvenue à votre premier cours de français’! 

Hello! My name is Vivienne Rousseau and welcome to your first French lesson! Did you understand my first sentence? If not, not to worry! I will teach you how to learn and with the right dedication you’ll be speaking fluently in the next 6 months! Today’s lesson is all about beginnings…

You whine as you raise your volume on your phone to stay focused. However, the tall statues and figurines in front of you were not helping like you thought it would. You had come to the National Museum to gain some peace and clarity while starting this new venture. French was always a language you had dreamed of learning, so why not start now? Sure, the grating voice of Vivienne Rousseau would drag you along through it, but this was a new adventure. The start of something interesting…

As long as you could pay attention. It wasn’t your fault Vivienne’s voice sounded like a high-pitched foghorn. But the reviews for her app were rave and they wouldn’t take your credit card information for another week, so if it became a bigger drag than it already was, you could cancel your free trial. 

You walked throughout the museum trying to focus on your lesson, but rewound the same phrases over and over. 

Je m’apelle Vivienne. Je suis ravi de vous rencontrer. 

You were thinking it wasn’t the pyramids and statues that weren’t helping you focus, but you figured it was time for you to leave the museum, regardless. Before the trip home, you stopped at the gift shop for a bottle of water. You walked over to the gift shop counter t o grab the attention of a man entirely more focused on his Egyptian mythology book than having to sell stuffed scarabs. He looked slightly disheveled, with black curly tendrils falling all over his head. When you made eye contact with him, he had dark crescents under his eyes and a timid smile. He looked so nervous to a complete stranger, you couldn’t imagine how he was towards his coworkers. 

Reaching for your water, the cord of your earbuds snapped and broke free from your phone. If you hadn’t noticed by the snapping of the cord, you would’ve noticed from Vivienne’s grating voice booming throughout your speaker: 

Bonjour! Comment ça vas?

“Bien, merci. Et vous-même?” You look up and the tired, timid man has spoken, meeting your eyes with a softer smile. 

You smile back and laugh. “Sorry about that. This is what happens when I don’t get earbuds from the last five years.” 

“Well, it’s not about the earbuds, innit? It’s what’s in them that matters. Learning French?” He asks. 

“If you could even call it that. I thought coming to the museum would help me focus up, but this woman I’m listening to sounds well braindead.”

“Je suis désolé. D'après ce que j'ai entendu, elle ressemblait à un bouton absolu.” The crinkles in the corner of his eyes became more prominent and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I’m sorry. From what I heard, she sounded like an absolute knob.” He translated. He introduced himself. Steven. With a V. You asked Steven with a V if he’d like to make some extra money on the side and before you knew it, you were meeting at the bistro every Wednesday for an hour of French lessons with Steven with a V.

Steven was not as drab and droning as Vivienne Rousseau, quite the opposite. Before and after your hour was up, you found yourselves talking more and more about your days; him describing the gift shop and his aspirations to be a tour guide despite his awful boss Donna. You couldn’t understand how he wasn’t. It seemed like everything he talked about could circle back to his love for Egyptology and the wonder of the gods and goddesses. How does someone like that know so much about it but he’s stuck behind a desk selling crisps and plushies? 

After your 3rd meeting, you’d plucked up the courage to ask him. The first thing he did was look at you after those compliments with such earnest gratitude you felt your insides melt. The second thing he told you was that he had a sleeping disorder that kept him further back in life than he’d wanted. He aspired to have adventure, and life and zest as much as he could, but for right now… the gift shop was just enough.

That was the first night you had gone to bed thinking of how kind his smile was, chasing the warmth throughout your body it had given you as if you’d just taken a shot. You’d found yourself eager for the next lesson, to hear about his new studies, to watch his hands as he notated on your writing. 

You’d gotten to the bistro thirty minutes early, in your same corner table at the patio, waiting for Steven.

You waited. 

And you waited. 

And you waited. 

Two hours later, he never showed. 

You felt your insides deflate as you traveled home. You’d checked your text messages every ten minutes hoping to see a sign that he was okay or if he was busy or if he just didn’t want to come. Maybe he’d seen the way you looked at him in your last lesson and found it inappropriate? 

You wished Steven standing you up would’ve completely turned you off to him, but unfortunately, it just had him occupying your mind more and more until the sounds of his voice describing tales of the green jewel lulled you to sleep. 

You woke up the next morning to your phone going off, although it wasn’t your alarm. Steven was in the middle of writing you a flurry of text messages with apologies about how he wasn’t able to make it last night and how his sleeping had completely mucked his week up. He asked if you were free that night for your lesson and a free meal to make it up. While you agreed to see him, your worry and apprehension weren’t immediately gone. You weren’t sure if this was just his common excuse he had given women, but, it was worth it to hear him out. 

You had gotten to the restaurant and there at your familiar corner table was Steven Grant, looking like the saddest dog you had ever seen. As soon as you were in eye view, he walked up to you, moving to place his hand on your shoulder but hesitating. He moved it back to clasp his other palm, whispering your name.

“I am so deeply, deeply sorry. I go to bed on Saturday and then I woke up, and it’s Thursday and I feel like I got hit by a double-decker bus and— “

“Je te pardonne. Mangeons.” You had said. I forgive you. Let’s Eat. And he flashed you that damn smile again, and you felt your insides crack like an egg to the stove. 

There wasn’t as much lesson as there was dinner this night as you and Steven had discussed every topic you could. Work, music, books, television. No topic was left off the table as you waited for your food. The server brought out the very vegan Steven’s steaming lentil soup and what was supposed to be your salmon was replaced with a large burger. 

“I’m so sorry miss, it’s a bit of a mess in the kitchen back there tonight. I’ll get this sorted out straight away.” The server said to you. You saw the steam coming out of Steven’s soup and instead of digging in, his hands were placed politely on his lap. 

When the server came back out, he had brought trout, which you were unfortunately allergic to or else you would’ve scarfed it down by then. More than a half hour had gone by and you were still waiting for your dinner. And there was Steven, hands no longer in his lap but marking your French in his thick glasses. You took a mental note of how good he looked in them while cursing yourself for doing so. 

“Steven, if you want to eat, I completely understand. Your food must already be freezing.” You said, eying the way his hands held his pen. 

“Not to worry.” He said cheerfully. “The great thing about lentils is that you can eat them hot or cold and I want to make sure you’re taken care of. Laisse moi prendre soin de toi.” You immediately felt your face redden and were so glad that your food had come back correctly this time so you could bury your head in your salmon and vegetables. 

When you went home that night, you thought of his thick fingers, his kind eyes and the repeat of him saying “Laisse moi prendre soin de toi” in your head as you slowly slipped your fingers under the covers, dreaming of how your French tutor would say that to the heat between your legs. 

Laisse moi prendre soin de toi. Let me take care of you. 

He wasn’t late for the next lesson. He was there when you had arrived, 15 minutes before, to counter the overeager 30 minutes versus strolling in right on time. You wanted him to know you care about these lessons, but maybe not too much. 

When you had walked over to the table, Steven had another downtrodden look on his face. His lips were turned down, and he was looking down at the ground. When he heard your footsteps, his face immediately brightened and damn, this was not helping your crush. 

“Bad day at the museum?” You greet him as he sullenly nodded. 

“Donna started taking the piss at me as soon as I got into work. A child — a child!! — came up to me and asked me where the bloody bathroom was and all I hear after I show her where it is—‘Stevie, you’re not a tour guide. It’ll never happen, so stop trying.’” He mocked Donna with a nasally grating voice. 

“I’m sorry. It’s like she doesn’t even give you a chance to prove yourself.” 

“Exactly!!” Steven excitedly exclaims as a few people from other tables looked around. He muttered apologies. “I’m just so tired of her thinking I’m some bumbling git. It’s not like she knows where the Hathor temple is and she could answer someone if they asked her. She wouldn’t even know Hathor if she bit her in the arse.” 

You giggled as he went on. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling. Let’s get on with our lesson soon, but do you mind if I eat here again tonight? She wouldn’t even let me take a lunch today!” 

“Well, since you had an absolutely shit day, I think it’s my turn to get dinner. And I’ll do one extra.” The server came around to your table as Steven looked at you, puzzled. 

“Excuse me, sir, but can you recommend your finest French wine?” 

A couple of hours later and two bottles of wine down, dinner was finished but there yet again wasn’t much of a French lesson. Giddy and bubbly from wine, you and Steven continued your endless back and forth and it felt like you could talk to him about just about anything. You saw him look at his phone screen to look at the time and you felt your heart sink a bit. 

“Oh bugger, it’s already 9 PM.” Steven frowned. “I don’t want to keep you too long. I’m sure you have plenty to do.” 

“No! Wednesdays are always our nights.” You saw his smile widen when you said that, the crinkles in his eyes deepening. “Besides, I wouldn’t just consider tonight a French lesson but me trying to cheer up a friend who seems to have had a bad day.” 

“Not so bad now, innit?” He grinned. You looked into his eyes with no reluctance, the alcohol warming your body giving you courage to keep contact. He had beautiful, dark eyes and his nose was so strong and defined. You knew better than to even look at his lips, though, because once you did, you would stare too long and then goodbye to your friend and French tutor. 

You heard a slight rumble and felt droplets hit your shoulders. First quietly and then pounding as the rain came through like a. Luckily you had already paid for yours and Steven’s food so you ran under the patio’s awning, Steven’s arm was halfway out of his jacket when he ran over to you and then flipped the jacket over your head. 

“What do we do now? I know we’re having a great time, but you’re also not exactly paying me to gossip during a rainstorm.” Steven shouted over the loud rain. 

Liquid courage be damned. You thought of an offer that you didn’t want to come off the wrong way, but it was raining and you did pay him for a lesson you hadn’t exactly completed. You bit your lip in contemplation and you could’ve sworn in the corner of your eye you saw Steven eyeing your swollen bottom lip. 

“My flat isn’t too far, if you don’t mind it.” Steven looked at you for what felt like a long moment and you held your breath. He nodded and kept his jacket above your head the entire way. 

As soon as you had gotten to your flat, you thought the alcohol would wear off, but the last bottle you two had shared was just kicking in. The two of you ran and giggled back to your apartment like a couple of schoolchildren, and you felt so refreshed. You loved that you could be silly with him. 

“This is it! Sorry I haven’t fixed it up much.” You said, tossing your shoes on the floor and your keys on your counter. 

“It’s much better than my place.” Steven looked around. “You wouldn’t be surprised though, loads of books, loads of paperwork, a goldfish named Gus.” 

You snorted. “Come on, my books and my desk are in the bedroom.” 

He followed you into your bedroom as you turned on the desk light, lit enough to illuminate the space needed but not too bright to cause a headache. You fell onto your bed, back first, with your arms stretched out to the back of your head. It felt so good to close your eyes. It felt so good being tipsy. It felt so good being with Steven. Where is Steven? When you opened your eyes, there he was at your desk, eyeing your stack of French books. 

“I have to say this is quite the collection, miss.” He took his glasses out of his shirt pocket and slipped them on and you had to shut your eyes quickly before the heat between your legs grew to an uncomfortable amount. “Baudelaire, Marceline Desbordes-Valmore and you have my favorite, Victor Hugo.” 

“No way, Victor Hugo is my favorite as well!” You shot up excitedly. He had Hugo’s book in his hand as he skimmed through. 

“Le Roi S’amuse, I love absolutely love this play.” 

“Can I tell you something?” You swung your feet off of your bed to distract your bubbling nerves. “I’ve really wanted to pick up French just so I can read more French literature I can fall in love with. See more plays, get more cultured.” 

“That’s what I like about you.” Steven said, bringing the book with him as moved next to you on the bed. “We haven’t exactly gone over this term yet, but when I think about you, I think of your joie de vivre. Your lust for life. You see things and opportunities and you take them.” 

You feel yourself redden. “What exactly do you mean by that?” 

“I just mean, if it was the other way around, I could’ve never walked up to an attractive stranger and asked them to teach me French.” He looks down nervously for a brief moment and then steadies himself, giving you deep eye contact. You’re almost rendered speechless. 

“Are you telling me you find yourself attractive, Steven Grant?” You whisper. Your eyes are locked on each other. You’ve never seen someone with such dark, kind eyes. 

“Can I tell you which verse is my favorite?” You break the silence. “It would probably do me good to have you hear some of my French tonight.” You giggle. Steven doesn’t giggle. He slowly nods as your liquid courage takes over. Your hands are shaking, but you feel the electricity. 

You slip your hands onto his and help guide him to your favorite passage. His eyes don’t leave your face. It’s as if he’s studying you like a new art installation. 

“La vie est une fleur, l’amour en est le miel.” You recite. 

“Life is a flower, love is its honey.” Steven translates. His hands are so, so warm on yours. 

  “C’est la colombe unie à l’aigle dans le ciel,” you continue, briefly daring to look up at his eyes, which are now on your hands. He looks absolutely dazed, as if he can’t believe this is real. 

“It’s the dove united with the eagle in the sky,” You notice Steven's hands are shaking too. 

“C’est la grâce tremblante à la force appuyée,” Do you dare to move your hands? 

“It’s the trembling grace to the leaning force,” He’s looking directly at you again. No wine, no French, no lentil soup could save you now. 

“C’est ta main dans ma main doucement oubliée…” You rub your hands on top of his and his fingers feel exactly how you thought they would, and more. 

“It’s your hand in my gently forgotten hand…” He moves one hand to your shoulder. Your heart feels as if it’s in your throat. 

“Aimons-nous! aimons-nous!” There are exclamation points in the text, but all that comes out of your mouth is a faint whisper. 

“Let’s love each other. Let’s love each other.” Somehow, your faint whisper is louder than Steven’s. 

And then silence. You feel yourself gravitate towards him, the heat of your lips meeting as they finally collide and give you the sweetest satisfaction. 

Steven Grant’s lips are softer than you could have ever fantasized. He’s gentle, slow and leaves you lingering for more. One hand is still on your Victor Hugo book, rubbing the palm of your hand as your fingers are laced together. 

You break apart briefly and lean your foreheads on each other, grinning as he rubbed your shoulder. 

“I feel like I’ve been wanting to do that since I first met you.” Steven confesses. You take your other hand and run it through his tussled black curls as you continue to kiss him. He follows your lead, matching the pace of your kisses and, albeit awkwardly initially, slipped his tongue into your mouth, letting you taste him. 

As the kiss deepened, you heard the book slam onto the ground with a large thud as you lifted yourself onto his lap. You heard Steven gasp, and you broke the kiss. 

“Is everything alright?” You scan his eyes for any discomfort. 

“I’m alright, love.” His hands continue gripping your shoulders tightly. You place your hands on them, moving them slowly from your shoulders to the curve of your hips. 

“You don’t have to worry.” You whisper into his lips. “You can touch me however you want.” He exhaled and gripped your hip with more confidence. His other hand moved to the back of your neck as your lips crashed together, moving at a faster pace. You moan as he slips his tongue into your mouth, which causes him to moan. You pushed against him, slowly rocking on him, your skirt slipping up by the friction. 

He groans before breaking the kiss. “I should let you know something. I’m not like other men.” 

“That’s precisely what I like about you, Steven.” You move your lips to the warmth of his neck, sucking on him as he groans again, shaking his head as if he needs to get out of his trance. 

“No, I’m serious. I’ve told you about my sleeping disorder… how it causes me to miss certain days and how I feel so knackered afterwards. It’s… caused me to miss quite a bit out of life.”

“And I can help you make it up.” You nibble on his ear. 

“I’m a virgin.” He blurts out so fast you almost miss it. 

You take a moment to settle into his lap, hands still firmly smoothing out his soft curls. He looks down with a tinge of shame and embarrassment that you’re puzzled by, so you reassure him by lifting his chin up and giving him a soft kiss. 

“Hey, come on now. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It just hasn’t happened yet.” 

“Yeah, at least not with the right person.” He takes his slightly shaky hand to hold the side of your face as you kiss his palm. 

“Well, we can go at whatever pace you like tonight.” 

"I just want to make you feel good.” Steven whispers. “Show me how to do that and I’ll be satisfied enough tonight.” 

“But I want you to be satisfied too, Steven. And I think I know of a way to do that.” 

You press your lips against his, but this time hungrier, needier. You wanted to show him how much you had been pining for him all of these weeks. Steven could steadily match with your pace, boldly biting your lower lip and smiling as he heard a moan exit your mouth. 

You move his hand from your face, slowly sliding it down your neck, to the curve of your breast. Steven let out a whimper as you guided his hand to knead your breast. He stared at your hands together, mouth agape, eyes hooded, in a trance. 

You moved his hand from your breast to your stomach, to your thighs as you guided his hand up your dress. You planted soft kisses on him while you guided him, but when you stop at the heat between your legs, he’s absolutely speechless. You remove your hand from his, letting him decide his next step. 

He rubs the outline of the wetness of your underwear as you sigh in pleasure. 

“Steven…” You whisper. 

“I could never get tired of hearing my name said like that.” He sighed, still looking at you in absolute unabashed awe. You removed the straps from your sundress, exposing your naked breasts, and instead of the trembling nerves Steven had shown you, he was massaging and rubbing at one nipple while still rubbing the outline of your underwear. 

“That feel good?” Steven murmured. 

“So good Steven.” Your nipples had started to harden under his touch. Steven removed his hand from your crotch so he could steady himself and focus on putting his breasts in your mouth. He took ample time with both of them, switching back and forth and sucking on them with such passion that his eyes were shut and he was moaning, silently praising your chest. 

After a few moments of bliss, you stopped him, lifting his head up as he could watch you get off of his lap and onto your knees. Just the simple action of you kneeling between his raging erection caused him to start quietly panting, not wanting any sudden movements to ruin this moment. 

You unfastened his belt, eyes still met with his as you saw the bulge from his boxers. There was a slight wet spot of pre-cum on the fabric and you felt your mouth water with anticipation. You pulled his boxers down so his cock could spring free and you weren’t only surprised but very pleased. 

Steven’s cock was so thick you could barely touch your thumb when wrapping your hand around him. He was already so firm and hard for you, veins slightly protruding out and more liquid glistening at the top of his tip. 

“Oh my God.” Steven chanted as you rubbed him up and down. “Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God, I can’t believe this is happening.” 

“I can’t believe you’re so big.” You say, a bit hypnotized yourself. You had fantasized about this moment but couldn’t believe it was actually happening and better than you had ever expected. 

“I’m not gonna lie to you,” Steven strained out. “As much as I would love for you to put your mouth… all… over me… I think our fun would end rather quickly, and that leaves us with a bit of a problem.” 

You slightly turn your mouth, upset you can’t have your mouth take the challenge of swallowing his cock just yet, but then you come up with an even better idea, giving Steven a devilish grin.

You slip his boxers back on, his bulge even more prominent than before, and Steven looks up at you with a puzzled look. You wrapped your legs around his hips and sunk your clothed crotch into his. 

“Oh, fuck.” Steven moaned, calling out your name. “Fuck, that feels amazing.” He fastened his hands on your hips as you slowly rocked into him. You put your forehead onto his, breathing in each other’s air as Steven quickened the pace, the pressure of his thickness tightening your bundle of nerves. You started to grind onto him, hard and fast, as he held himself steady with the softness of your ass. 

The warm pressure of his cock was about to make you come undone. His head was buried in between your breasts, not sucking at them but just breathing you in, just to make sure you were real. That this was real. 

Steven pushed his crotch up against you at a pace that you knew would unravel you. Your moans together became more rhythmic. 

“Steven, I’m so close, please don’t stop.” You whined. You brought your hand not tangled in his curls to your clit as you began to rub it, this just quickened Steven’s pace as you bounced on his crotch, his hands gripped on your ass so tightly you knew you’d have bruises later. 

As your moans got louder, you felt yourself release, your orgasm throbbing throughout your entire body. Steven came quickly after, abruptly stopping as he released his warmth into his boxers. The two of you panted together, heads still connected through your foreheads. Closer than ever. 

“Wow.” Steven meekly whispered. “That was better than I ever imagined it would be. Tu es exquis."

”Tu es incroyable.” You whispered back, looking at him as he smiled warmly at you. “See, I’ve been paying attention.” 

The two of you laid there for a few moments until Steven went into your bathroom to clean up. You had slowly stripped away your dress and your bra, nestling under your duvet, leaving some space behind you for the wonderful man you were waiting for. 

A few moments passed, and you felt his warm body surrounding you, arms around your waist as he lay there naked, reciting Victor Hugo’s romantic poetry into your ear. 

“I reckon if I can’t give you a full French lesson, this was the best substitute.” Steven’s hands were circling lazily around your arms and you briefly reminisced about the time when he didn’t even know if a hug was appropriate. And now here he is in your bed, wearing no clothes and reciting poetry into your ear. 

Sometimes real life really eclipses fantasy. 

“I’d say this absolutely makes up for it, and then some. But… I think we’re going to have to go into double time next lesson to make up for it.” You grinned. 

“You’re right, maybe an oral exam will have to do.” Steven awkwardly quipped and you both laughed at his awkwardly adorable attempt at double entendre. 

You turned around and opened your arms up towards him. He moved his head towards your chest, arms gripping your waist tightly with the same fervor as earlier, as if you would float away and this was all a dream.

You buried your fingers in his curls, gripping your free hand to the back of his head until you drifted asleep. 

Steven Grant, the shy gift shop clerk that had offered you French lessons. 

Steven Grant, the brilliant, burgeoning Egyptologist that brightened your life with his stories and his warmth. 

Steven Grant. The start of something new. 

#steven grant #steven grant smut #steven grant x you #steven grant fluff #steven grant x reader #steven grant fanfiction #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #moon knight smut #oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac x y/n #steven grant x y/n #marvel #mcu #mcu smut #marvel smut

[writingbyshiloh]

En Français S.V.P.

AN: I’m Canadian so forgive me if this is more Quebec French than European French. My French isn’t that great (B level) so if something is wrong pls forgive me.

WC: 0.4k

You fiddle with the clasp of your necklace behind your back. The restaurant is new to you, but Vincent insisted that you would like it, due to the daring food pairings. 

But you were excited for a different reason. Slowly, you were learning French, wanting to communicate with your boyfriend in his mother tongue, but also the city around you. You just didn't tell the Marquis, wanting to keep it a surprise. If he knew what you were learning he would get you the best tutors, but also make your studies his newest obsession, guiding you on how he thinks you should learn, not how you best do. 

“Mon amour? Are you ready?” his voice became clearer as he pushed open the heavy door.

Mon amour was an easy one to translate, meaning my love. 

“Non. J’ai besoin du cinq minute additional." (No. I need five more minutes) your voice was clear, but some of the pronunciations were clunky in your mouth, home accent coming through, all while you tried to suppress a smile. 

Your suspicion was right. He pulled you from your chair into his arms, delighted with your surprise. At least that's what you assume he's saying but his French was too fast for you to understand except for the fondness seeping into his tone. 

“How long have you been studying?” He says. You envy how eloquently he can switch from one language to another. 

You shrug your shoulders, leaning into his arm wrapped around your waist. 

“I only know a bit. I can order in French though.” 

“What else can you say?” 

You pause for a second to construct a sentence in your head. It's not one of the ones you practiced but hopefully, it works. 

“Je suis excité, euh, pour le dîner ce soir.” (I’m excited, uh, for dinner tonight) you offer up.

His lips twitch slightly as if trying to tone down his smile.

“Le dîner? (the dinner)” he clarifies. 

“Oui?” you frown, trying to figure out if you used the wrong word for dinner. 

“Ou après?” (or after). 

You quietly repeat the words after him. His hand slowly dips below the small of your waist. 

“Je suis excité is I am excited.” he informs you. 

“I know.”

“Sexually excited.” His gaze is intense, almost predatory as he watches you understand your grammar mistake. 

That’s one French lesson you won’t forget soon. 

#okay anon it is done #marquis de gramont x reader #vincent de gramont x reader #marquis vincent de gramont x reader