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charles-leclerizz · 8 months ago

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🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑blue views

🏁 Pairings : Carlos Sainz X fem! Reader

🏁 Warnings : smut [nothing major, listed at the end of the writing], fluff, stress [which is aliviated by the smut]

🏁 Word Count : 3.6k words (3612 words)

🏁 Summary : It’s time to celebrate! For everyone else that is. You, on the other hand, will be planning your’s and your fiance’s “engagement week” festivities, until you die. That is, until an impromptu intervention is planned.

🏁 translations via radio comm below

🏁 credits : word dividers by @heavenlayt

🏁 Music player : Good to be by Mark Ambor

“Carlos!” You shouted out, leaning back against the heel of your soft wedges as you reached behind you for more cocktail glasses. The sound of your fiancé’s loafers against the terracotta staircase echoed throughout the ground level as he made his way to the kitchen, where you were working alongside half a dozen cooks.

“Si, Mariposa?” He came up behind you, plucking the crystal margarita glass from your fingers and taking a sip of the peachy, carbonated concoction that you had masterfully created. You giggled when he hummed happily and kissed your neck, “It’s delicious.”

“Ay, Ay, Señor. Tienes que esperar a la luna de miel” An elderly voice scolded from your left followed with a hollow bonk. Carlos hissed, rubbing the back of his head where a thick wooden rolling pin had struck him playfully, “You wound me, Maria.”

He followed with a pained “Literally.” When Maria had merely shot him a fond look over her shoulder as she went back to washing the tomatoes in the deep-set ceramic sink.

“You’re absolutely sure that everyone got the invites?” You leaned down to inspect the dozen drinks that you had made, “Because we invited at least 60 people, and if I make 60 drinks and there are not exactly 60 throats present to ingest them. You are going to remain abstinent until we’re married.”

Carlos stared at you open mouthed, a betrayed expression overtook his face, “So you would choose Maria’s wishes over mine? muy cruel.” He then bought his hands up from your waist to brush your hair from your shoulder, dragging his fingers up your arm-he slipped off the thin spaghetti strap of your white, cotton summer dress to press short, sweet kisses on your skin, “I mean can you really resist this?” He reasoned.

“It would be very easy Mi Amour.” You harrumphed, ignoring the tingling shocks that fluttered beneath your skin at the drag of his lips against your shoulder. You jolted forward when you felt his other hand travel from your waist, down to the front of your dress, “Carlos- I have so much to do. I mean I promised Alex and Lily I would make trifle for dessert, but then your parents have this one friend who hates custard! I mean did you hear the story, he literally puked, and I will not have him puke in my engagement party, nope. Not on my watch.”

You wagged your finger in the air before grabbing another five glasses from their upside-down position on the kitchen island where you were working. Taking the washcloth that sat comofortably in the front pocket of your plaid apron, you began wiping away the droplets of water from the crystal before continuing to babble about your long list of duties for the upcoming week of festivities.

“So, I need to also make these cute fruit tarts that I made that one time. But then I realised that Charles and Max hate kiwi, and the whole dessert is basically that, so for them I’m making this great chocolate gateau, the one at the restaurant? Since they really fucking liked that one.”

You grumbled out the last part, crushing up your freshly picked strawberries that had previously been resting in a metal strainer along with a cream, cotton cover up to keep them moist. The marble mortar grinded against the matching pestle as the sweet fruits reduced to a thick paste.

“On top of that the other like, 40 guests have very specific wants, so I have 20 different things to make along with this signature drink that Jenni designed for us! You know her, right? the bar tender at the other restaurant in Monaco, I learnt how to make it, and you said its good. It’s good right?”

You add a few cups of carbonated water to the pinkish paste in front of you, before turning back to Carlos, who had been patiently listening to you rant- mainly due to the fear that if he were to stop, you would give his ear the same treatment as the berries that remain crushed beneath you, “Si, mi mariposa. Very good.”

You sighed before fully spinning around to face him, resting your back on the dark wood counter, looping your hands around his neck, “I’m sorry Carlito.” You brush a singular strand of hair that fell from its carefully crafted style onto his forehead, “This isn’t very fun for you, is it?” You move onto your tiptoes to reach his cheek.

“Nonsense, I have Papa and Guillermo coming to help with the decorations outside, I think Blanca and Mama are also coming- to help.” He chuckles when you groan happily and bring his head down to kiss his lips graciously.

“Thank you, Mi Amour.” You murmur against his mouth, running your fingers through his hair as his arms came to circle your waist, pulling you against his chest. You sigh against him, melting in his embrace as you barely manage to hold yourself up and anchor yourself on his broad shoulders that strain against the baby blue polo top, he chose to wear.

“AY, SEÑOR,�� Maria bumped Carlos slightly as she came rushing through the walkway, trotting determinedly through the low, exposed brick archway and outside to the patio area that was protected from the morning sunrays by the lattice structure that stood tall whilst being overtaken by winding ivy.

Beneath this, Maria sat down at least 3 trays full of freshly sliced vegetables, sun drying them as preparation for the multiple dishes that would be served that evening, “Si no estás aquí para aportar nada útil, sal de la cocina.” She screeched whilst heading to the other side of your estate, towards the large garden that housed many seasoned plants, ready with multiple fruits and vegetables for plucking.

“I think she will cook me next.” He shuddered before laying his forehead on yours, “Do not worry, Mariposa. Everything will turn out fine.”

“Why did I suggest an engagement week.” You pouted, nuzzling your head into his chest, to hide away from all the responsibilities you had brought onto yourself. You shake your head wildly, causing flurries of hair to escape from the bun you had messily done up, “All I know is that it must go well. Maria will for sure have a heart attack if it doesn’t,”

“I still think it’s a good idea” He comforts you, until the melodic sound of the doorbell resounds throughout the house, and he detaches from you, “That must be the back-up.” He winks at you as he jogs off to open the large, rustic door. You watch from the kitchen as Carlos laughs boisterously whilst embracing his family.

His mother and sister quickly wave him off, ushering the men out to the acres of back garden they have yet to decorate to approach you.

Blanca dances up to you, wiggling her arms and hands excitedly as she beams at your exhausted face, “There she is! Beautiful bride-to-be, our mariposa.” The knee length dress she chose skims her legs as the burgundy silk falls from her shoulders delicately, she hugs your neck tightly, swinging you both side to side whilst you flail around.

“Hola, diabla.” You chuckle, catching your mother-in-law’s eyes, you wait until Blanca removes herself from you for Reyes to do the same, but instead of violently rotating you like a ragdoll, she rubs your back and coos sympathetically.

“Ay mi muñeca, you look too tired to be a blushing bride.” She moves her arms from being drawn around your neck to rub your shoulders.

“What can I say? There’s too much to be done for me to be blushing.” You shrug, already going back to pouring out 10 more drinks, adding to the sea of glasses in front of you.

Blanca tuts disapprovingly, “This is not what being engaged is meant to be, it’s meant to be fun! And new! And sexy!” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, ignoring her mother who had picked up your to-do list and hid her face in the paper.

“Blanca, please.” Reyes rolled her eyes, “But she’s not wrong.” She reaches for a spare apron that hung rejected on the back of the pantry door.

“No, mamá please,” You attempt to snatch the apron away from Reyes, who tuts disapprovingly and had already begun to collect multiple utensils from your spacious kitchen whilst talking quickly with the cooks who had been diligently making progress on the rest of the menu, “I can’t possibly allow you to do my work.”

Blanca plucked the neatly tied bow around your waist, undoing the stained, pale blue cotton that protected your dress, “No, your job is to relax, and let my culo brother treat you nicely. Champagne, strawberries, chocolate.” She listed off the aphrodisiacs one by one, pushing you through the living room and up the stairs. You braced yourself on the railing as you let her guide you through the landing.

“I have all of that in the food that I should be making,” You whined, stomping your foot, and swivelling to level her with your eyes, “There is just too much to do before tonight. And the boys don’t even know what to do for decorations.”

Blanca swatted her hand through the air, as if physically plummeting away your doubts, “You’ve had the entire family added on your Pinterest board.” You snorted at that, but pressed your lips together when she shot you a look, “If I can’t whip them into shape, consider me a bad sister from day 1.” She planted her hands on her waist before pointing at your bedroom door, “Now either you can start yourself a bath, or I will.”

You harrumph and dig your feet into their spot on the newly waxed, wooden floors beneath you, “I see how it is.” Blanca squints her eyes at you, “Fine, I see how it is.”

You half expect her to push you into the room, but instead she leans over the banister and shouts, “CARLOS !!”

“Blanca!” You gasp, grabbing her dress and tugging her back from the beam, “W-Why would you?” You splutter.

“AY CARLOS !!” She continues to screech until you slap a palm over her mouth, careful of the nude brown lipstick she had worn.

“Si diabla?” Your fiancé shouts back up, already at the base of the staircase. Blanca licks your hand, causing you to yelp and jump back, giving her the perfect opportunity to answer, “Your fiancé is anxious as fuck.”

“What else is new?” He chuckles, hand braced on the railing as he emerges from the winding staircase. Carlos takes in the new scene, you are tackling Blanca onto the floor, she’s squealing whilst attempting to wrangle free from you, tummy first on the floor, “Mi amour, if you are going to leave me for my sister...” He starts, crossing his arms and tilting his head at you.

“You both are insufferable.” You grit out, twisting the knob to your bedroom, wating for Carlos to step inside. He stops momentarily when Blanca darts an arm out and begins to ramble to him in Spanish, Carlos answers just as quickly before his sister reaches up to smack the underside of his head.

“Blanca!” He shouts out after her, but she ignores him and sprints downstairs to assist with the preparations. Carlos turns back to you, slumping forward to rest his head against the door frame that you were currently leaning on, arms folded amusedly as you looked at him from under your eyelashes. He pivots his neck, gazing fondly into your eyes, “You’re pretty.” He mumbles, bringing a limp hand up to rest on your cheek, thumb moving soothingly against your face. You lean into his touch, “So are you” You breathe out, leaning upwards to ghost your lips over his.

This moment was merely poetic, the two of you, finding respite in the chaos within each other. His soft touch as he leaned forward for more, you grant it, because you craved him as deeply as he did for you. The astringent sweetness of his lips against yours and the heavenly feeling of his fingers cradling your hips made you moan out as he caught you weight when your knees gave out from beneath you.

The door creaked shut behind the two of you, your palms digging into the waistline of his shorts to tug his shirt out, his fingers dance down from your neck to the large cut-out of your dress that showed off the curve of your spine. Carlos broke away from you momentarily, his eyes still shut as he chuckled when you whined, chasing his lips desperately, “Jump,” He murmured, bracing himself by tugging you close and digging his fingers into the back of your thighs.

You complied, hopping into his secure hold before attaching your mouth to his once again, nipping at his full bottom lip. Carlos passed through the bedroom with ease, his muscle memory allowing him to walk underneath the long archway that led to your shared bathroom. He released you gently, his fingers pinching the hem of your dress on your way down, he bunched up the flowy linen, dragging it up to your waist and tugging it over your head- leaving you in just a pair of white, lacy underwear.

You laughed slightly, your hair mussed at taking over half of your face, “Carlos” you huff out. He laughs at your annoyance, gently moving the strands out of your eyes before tracing the dips and curves of your chest and stomach with feather-light touches.

Sighing, you tilt your head back, allowing him to press his lips against the column of your neck. You loop your hands around his neck, stumbling backwards towards the sink whilst bringing him with you. Carlos hoists you up and onto the counter, finally stepping back to gaze at your naked body, his eyes ravish you, the stiff peaks of your breasts and curve of your stomach, you watch him intently when he finally makes his way down to your panties, a damp patch already forming.

Carlos approaches you once again, his breath fresh and minty against your skin, “Tan bonita.” He compliments, trailing warm, open mouth kisses on your collar bone, starting from your shoulder until he reaches your sternum, “Tan deliciosa.” He moves to your breast, decorating it with his own purple-ish love marks, he littered them across until he enveloped your nipple into his mouth, his tongue licking against the pebble until it hardened beneath his attention.

Carlos turned his attention to the other whilst his other hand slipped beneath the elastic of your underwear, his middle finger teasing your wet slit, “all for me?” he moaned against your breast.

“of course.” You bury your hand in his hair, arching into his touch before he lowered to his knees in front of you.

“F-fuck” you whine, biting your lip harshly as he settles between your legs, he shucks you closer, harshly tugging you to the edge of the counter as he inches his mouth closer, hot breathe settling on the front of your underwear. You arch your back at the feeling, fingers teasing your peaked nipple, “please,” you whisper, eyes darting down to where Carlos had begun to lave lazily at your newly soaked panties.

“Please what? Huh?” He whispers, tongue darting out to push further into your throbbing hole. You whine, thighs threatening to clamp shut around his head, your hand inches down to shyly tug at his hair and guide him closer to your leaking cunt, “can’t even talk now? ‘s okay mariposa. I’ll take care of you.” He promises, laying one of your legs over his shoulder.

You breathe hitches slightly when you feel him drag his lips up your hip, only for his teeth to sink into your underwear band, trailing it off you.

You scrunch your eyes with a gasp when his kisses trail up from your ankle, to your calf and towards the inside of your thigh- you growl playfully when you hear him chuckle and coo up at you, “you were just stressed...” he pressed an open mouthed kiss to your skin, “being so diligent..” he continued, tongue ghosting over your leaking folds, “so perfect.”

“Carlos,” You moan, scratching your nails against his scalp, “you’re being mean. Hah. It’s not good to be mean to your future wi-“you cut yourself off with a scream, well, a muffled one, you managed to cover your agape mouth with your hand. He dove into your sex, tongue searing through you as he fucked the muscle steadily into you, curling it to poke gently at the sensitive, spongy part within you.

Carlos let his eyes flutter shut, the sweet taste of you staining itself onto his tongue, how he could stay like this forever, fuck the dinner, he only ever wanted to taste you. Only you.

“taste so good,” he panted against you, his tongue nudging your clit, in an oh-so delicious way that made you bite down on your fingers to stop your needy moans leaking down from the open, semi-circle window towards your in-laws, who were dedicatedly preparing your back garden to host a multitude of people.

“uh uh mariposa, quiero oír tu voz.” He reached up with one hand, tugging your palm away from your still open mouth.

“I-“you gulp heavily, trying to unscramble your mind from its mush state, “I- wan’ want more, need you to- do something please.” You bring your other leg to his shoulder, locking him between your limbs.

Carlos huffs out a laugh, biting playfully at your tender skin, he brings up one hand laying his fingers gently against your pussy lips, creating a ‘V’ to spread them wide, exposing the sensitive area to the midday warmth. And then, he spat, a fat string slowly drips from his mouth to land directly on your hole, he gawks at it with interest, his large puppy-dog eyes shining with lust.

You blush and cover your face, “come on- please? I’ve been soo good, did ever’thin you wanted.” You babbled, gyrating your hips against his face, baiting him into pleasuring you again until the delicious wave reached the crown of your skull until the tips of your toes.

“have you? You been my good girl? Hm?” He arches a brow at you, but stops you from answering when he lays his tongue flat against your clit, gently shaking his head side to side until you begin to shake and whine, “yeah, I know mi amor, se siente bien, ¿sí?” he whispers, prodding you cunt with his index finger, “you want it, don’t you?”

You hummed, eyes widening as though he had proposed all over again, “yeah, come on, please, pretty please with a- ahh,” once again, he wouldn’t let you finish your pleading, instead, he answered you with your prize, him pushing his fingers into you, your wetness dripping down into his palm and along his wrist.

Obscene squelches echoed through the bathroom, along with explicit sounds of his knuckles slapping against your skin and your high-pitched moans.

“yes- oh, don’t stop.” You sobbed, tears pricking at your eyes when he thrusted in a second finger, stretching you out whilst he crooked his digits to continue stimulating your g-spot mercilessly.

“don’t plan on it,” he promised, delving back in for another sacred taste, he tongue worked wonders against you, drinking in your nectar as though from the gods- letting in slip down his throat graciously. You groaned and bit your lip harshly, arching your back at angles that chiropractors would wince at until you could feel that euphoric feeling begin to bloom within your stomach.

Your walls fluttered around Carlos’ fingers, making him smirk against you and continue his movements, hungrily licking and slurping at you until your toes curled and eyes crossed over, “fuck,” you grit out, gasping laboriously as the tight knot finally snapped and torrential pleasure rained over you.

“te entendí my love,” He crawled over you, bracing himself above with his hands planted on the thick, white marble countertop you were currently blissed out on.

You brought your shaky hands up to his face, kissing him gently, “what about-hah, what about you,” you panted, wrapping your arms around him, continuing to softly brush your lips against his face. His temple, stubbled cheek, and muscled neck.

“We still have-“ He looked down at the heavy, silver Rolex on his wrist, “40 minutes, until Blanca comes hunting for us.” Carlos looked over to the floating bath that sat in front of the Juliet balcony, “and we have a bath.”

“That is just by a huge ass window,” You reminded him, glancing over to the open doors, revealing the intricate black grill of the balcony along with the pristine view of your tall trees that lined the well-kept entertaining space of your garden.

“Well, I doubt they don’t know what’s going on, I mean, my sister probably told them to leave a box of condoms outside.” He shrugged.

“In that case,” You started, your low whisper a mere breath of warm air between the two of you. Marinating hard and heady eye contact with him, you reached down to take his hand in yours, then slipped the two fingers that still dripped with your wetness, into your mouth.

Carlos stared at the sight, a short, strangled noise leaving him when you popped out his digits with an all too innocent noise, “Better make the most of it,” You leaned back against the mirror, hand open for him to carry you.

He groaned, shaking his head slightly before hoisting you in his arms, “best 40 minutes of my life.”

[Smut warnings : alot of kissing, fingering, sucking, love-bites, fem! oral recieving, fem! fingering recieving.]

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion available...over

📻 Kchh...Spnish..to engli..sh....over

Ay, Ay, Señor. Tienes que esperar a la luna de miel - Oh, Oh, Lord. You have to wait for the honeymoon

muy cruel - very cruel

AY, SEÑOR - OH, SIR

Si no estás aquí para aportar nada útil, sal de la cocina - If you're not here to contribute anything useful, get out of the kitchen.

mariposa - butterfly

Hola, diabla - Hello, devil

Ay mi muñeca - Oh, my doll

Si, diabla? - Yes, devil?

Mi amour - My love

Tan deliciosa - So delicious

Tan bonita - So beautifull

quiero oír tu voz - I want to hear your voice

te entendí, mi amor, se siente bien, ¿sí? - I understood you, my love, it feels good, yeah

📻 Kchhhhh.loosing sign....al.....kcchh....over and out...

435 notes · View notes

m0chaminx · 9 months ago

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Kung Lao | Shirt Thief

*•.¸♡Request: no, but inspired by @heavenlyvision fic Matters (go read all her work if you haven't already it's so good)

*•.¸♡Prompts: none

*•.¸♡Warnings: Smut MDNI, Raiden being a ladies man, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), a little bit a plot, no use of y/n, Kung Lao is taller than reader, the knee thing, praise, big dick Kung Lao, begging if you squint, marking, pet names (angel, baby), oral Fem!receiving, hair pulling, Kung Lao being desperate for praise, kinda rough smut, Raiden walking in (At the end), fluffy ending, this is my first smut in a while (go easy on me), I wrote this while high

*•.¸♡Paring: Kung Lao x F!reader

*•.¸♡Summary: You had never looked so good, why did you have to wear his clothes? Why did you have to be so annoying?

Your mission to annoy Kung Lao takes a different turn after you steal his clothes and his bed

*•.¸♡Words: 3.6k

You hadn’t exactly planned to spend your night like this. You sat on the couch in the living room, flipping mindlessly through the pages of a book. After a lovely dinner at Madame Bo’s, but honestly, they were all lovely, just before you could order dessert for the two boys a girl had swept Raiden off his feet, suggesting she’d pay for his dessert if she could spend the rest of the night with him, and, as Kung Lao put it left you both for dead. The walk back to your small home was gruelling, Kung Lao complaining the whole time about he was the one that was meant to be swept off his feet.

You closed the book and tossed it on the small table, huffing as you threw your head back to stare at the ceiling. Once you got home Kung Lao had locked himself in his room, still sulking. You turned your head to stare at his door, spend the night bored on the couch or annoy Kung Lao for your own entertainment. The answer was clear, and you kicked yourself off the couch, walking to his door.

You knocked twice before opening it. Kung Lao sat on the bed, weaving the loose bit of straw back into his hat. “Are you done being a baby?” Your voice was teasing as you leant against the wall.

His hands stopped and he scoffed. “I’m not being a baby,” Kung Lao huffed, staring up at you.

“Sure you aren't,” You rolled your eyes and closed the door behind you as you walked to his set of draws.

“And what are you doing?”

You trifled through the draws for a few moments before pulling one of Kung Lao’s long grey shirts. You turned back to him and shrugged. “My bed’s crap and you know it.”

“So? Go sleep in Raiden’s.”

You laughed silently and turned away, pulling off the shirt you had worn to work earlier that day. Kung Lao’s eyes widened as you so shamelessly stripped in front of him, the bare skin of your back so clearly on display. You shook your head and laughed at Kung Lao’s suggestion, “So Raiden can come back with his lady friend and I give him a heart attack? No thank you.”

You pulled Kung Lao’s shirt over your head and turned back to face him, who still stared so shamelessly. “Move over.”

“You just stole my shirt!” Kung Lao complained, his eyes lifting to meet yours. You placed a hand on your hip and raised an eyebrow.

Kung Lao sighed. He hung his hat on the bed frame and shuffled closer to the edge of the bed, making room for you. You pulled the blanket back and slipped in beside him. You rested your head against his shoulder, your hands moving with the end of the blanket. You nudged Kung Lao’s side, waiting for him to wrap his arm around you, as he had done before when you would disturb his daytime naps.

You nudged him again, this time digging your elbow into his side. “Hey! What was that for?”

“What’s up with you?” Kung Lao hummed in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing. “You’re never this upset, it’s not even upset, you're just acting weird.”

Kung Lao scoffed, trying to hide it with a chuckle. “I’m not being weird.”

“Yes you are.” You prodded his side again, getting an annoyed sound out of Kung Lao. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” Another poke.

“Hey-” Another poke.

“I mean it.” Another poke.

“Seriously, cut it out.”

You moved to poke him again, but he seized your wrists, his hands fitting around them perfectly as he pushed you back against the bed. He climbed on top of you, his thighs pinning your legs against the bed. “I said cut it out,” His voice dropped slightly and your heart hammered against your chest.

You tried to pull your hands from his grip, but his hands only tightened. “Get off me,” You huffed, your head dropping back against the pillows.

“Nope, this suits me quite nicely.” Kung Lao shook his head, a teasing smile taking over his face. You tried to wiggle out of his hold, your hips trying to shuffle back and your legs rubbed against him. One of Kung Lao’s hands shot down to grip your side, pushing you back against the bed and holding you still. “Don’t move like that.” His voice was breathy as his head dropped. You couldn't see his eyes, but by the way his eyebrows pinched you could tell they were screwed shut.

“What’s up with you?”

“Me?” Kung Lao laughed softly. “You just stripped in front of me, climbed into my bed and then grinded against me.” Your eyes winded and a soft breath passed your lips. “Not to mention you're wearing my shirt and it looks too goddamn good on you.”

Your cheeks burned in realisation. “Oh.”

You tried to slide back but his grip on your side tightened and you were thankful he wasn't looking anymore otherwise he would have seen your teeth sink into your lip to keep quiet. His hand loosened and he took a soft breath. “Just don’t move.”

“Why?”

Kung Lao dipped his head closer to yours, eyes dancing across your face but kept moving back to your lips. “Cause if you move I’m gonna kiss you and I’m not gonna stop.”

“Kiss me then.”

Kung Lao shook his head, his eyes moving from your face and this time you stared at him. The dip of his nose, his soft lips and his tongue that shot out to swipe across his pink lips. His eyes moved back to yours and your gaze fixed on his dark coffee eyes. “I’m not messing around,” He said, his voice dropping again.

You shook your head and your eyes drifted back to his lips. “Neither am I.” His grip loosened enough and you slipped one of your hands from his and traced the line of his cheekbone. You pulled him closer, and you raised your head off the bed, your nose crushing ever so slightly against his. “Kiss me Kung Lao.”

His eyes scanned over your face once more before dipped his head down to yours, connecting your lips and kissing you feverishly. His hand glided up your side, raising goosebumps across your skin as his fingers found your jaw, tipping your head up, his lips pressing harder against yours. Your teeth nipped his bottom lip, pulling a soft gasp from him. You slipped your tongue through his lips and he tried to pull you impossibly closer.

He shifted his hips, his thigh moving between yours to press his knee against you. A whine tore itself from your throat and your head fell back against the bed. You moved your hips against his knee and Kung Lao made a sound of approval as his lips trailed down your jaw and across your throat. His name fell from your lips in a soft moan and his knee worked harder against you.

“You sound so fucking pretty,” his words vibrated against your throat.

You hand tugged at the collar of his shirt and he lifted his head. “Take your clothes off, please.” Kung Lao complied, sitting back on his knees and pulling his shirt off. You pushed yourself up, your nails running across his abs as your lips attached to his throat, biting and sucking dark marks into his soft skin.

He pulled back for a moment to slip out of his pants and while you pulled your shirt over your head. He stood over you, his hands moving to hold your face as he kissed you softly. “You wanna stop, just tell me okay?”

“Don’t want you to stop,” You mumbled against his lips.

“Fucking hell angel.” He knelt by the bed, his large hand wrapping around your thighs and pulled you closer. He pressed small kisses to your thighs, nipping at your skin and leaving marks behind.

His hands trailed up your inner thighs, slipping under your shots and brushing against the soft fabric of your panties. “You don’t have to,” Your words trembled as his hands continued to tease too close to where you needed him.

“I want to, have to.” He pulled back to pull your shorts and underwear off at once. “I’m the best you’re gonna have, gotta prove it.” His hand trailed up your legs again, one hand moving to swipe through your folds. Your wetness clung to his fingers and he hummed, a cocky smile spreading across his cheeks. “Didn’t know I got you so worked up.”

“Don’t be a bitch, Kung Lao.”

He laughed and pressed a kiss to your navel, his lips dragging against your skin as his kisses grew lower. His name fell from your lips and his grip tightened, pulling you suddenly against his mouth. Your head fell back against the bed with a loud moan as his tongue began to lap at your pussy. He pulled your legs onto his shoulders, your hips angling so every time he moved his head his nose pressed against your clit.

Your hips moved to grind against his face but he held you tightly, stopping your squirming. Kung Lao chuckled against your clit, the vibrations running through you. Your hands shot down to his head, weaving your fingers through his hair to pull him closer against you. He finally released your hips to squeeze your thighs that had locked against his face.

His strong tongue pressed against you, slipping over your entrance. The movements made you squirm and tremble as his name lipped from your lips, melding into your pleas and moans. You rolled your hips against his mouth, searching for more as your clit rolled against his tongue.

Kung Lao’s hands dragged up your side, raising goosebumps at the slow touch. The soft whine that left your lips made his stomach tighten and made his cock twitch. He pressed his face further into your wet cunt, taking everything you gave him.

You could feel your end nearing, writhing against Kung Lao’s tongue as pressed harder against you. Then one his hands slid away and his fingers were at your entrance, gathering your slick on his fingers before gently prodding at your hole. A needy whine pours from your lips and Kung Lao chuckles, the vibrations running through you. His fingers slid inside you, your walls clenching around his as his fingers pressed against parts of yourself you could never reach.

“Kung Lao,” Your voice was shallow and shaky as you called for him, trying to hold onto whatever control you had over yourselves. “Please, need more.”

“Not yet.” His reply was quick and muffled, still focused on the way your pussy pulsed around his fingers. “Need you to cum, need you to make a mess.”

His fingers curled inside you and your grip on his hair tightened, your breathing quicking as you tiptoed around the edge. His fingers sped up, becking you closer to the edge but it was the light graze of his teeth against your clit that had you cumming, your cunt clenching on his fingers like a vice.

His hand still, gently grinding his fingers against your clit as he brought his head up, his own breath doubled as he panted softly. Your hands slid from his hair, falling to your sides as you tried to catch your breath, the shocks from your orgasm still burning with hot pleasure. Carefully Kung Lao removed his hand and stood, leaning over you, one hand pressed into the mattress.

“You still with me?” Kung Lao teased, his forehead pressing against yours. You hummed lazily and grabbed his jaw, pulling him into a slow kiss. You only broke away when your hand grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand still coated in your juices towards your mouth. His eyes singled on your mouth as your lips wrapped around his fingers sucking him clean. He cursed, his dick jumping at the sight.

You gently pushed him back and stood on uneasy legs. He looked down at you, towering over you as your fingers traced his skin. You spun the both of you around and pushed him onto the bed. He landed on his back and quickly pushed himself onto his elbows. “What’re you doing baby?” You crawled back onto the bed, your leg swinging over his, your bare pussy landing on his still covered cock. His head dropped back slightly, the thin material doing little to hide how wet you were. “Fuck… you’re so warm.”

Your hips ground hard against his, his cock twitching and his elbows gave out. His head fell back groaning at the feeling but it turned into a soft whine as you slid back, pulling his underwear down. You tossed them aside and crawled back up his body, pulling him into a quick kiss before trailing kissed down his throat.

You reached for his heavy cock, pumping slowly. His breath hitched as your hand worked his long, thick cock, your hand so small against him. You sat straight, lining his cock at your entrance, your walls sucking in the tip so quickly it made Kung Lao let a breath moan. A soft whine of your name passed his lip as his hands came to your hips to pull you down but you slapped his hand softly. “Ah, what was that for?” He tried to sound menacing but his voice was so shaky.

You fared no better. The tip of his dick stretched you so well, pleasure and pain mixing in a seering burn that you couldn't help but love. Your hips lowered ever so slightly, your head rolling back as you gripped his wrist for support. “You’re so big, need to go slow,” Your voice was hushed, trying to hide the whines on the tip of your tongue.

Kung Lao chuckled softly, “You flatter me angel.” One of his hands left your hip to race light circles on your clit, trying to relax you to let him slip deeper. You leaned forward, taking a few more inches as you kissed him again. It barely counted as a kiss, messy and disorganised as you tried to distract yourself from the burn in your thighs. “You’re so fucking tight,” Kung Lao whispered, his lips moving to nip at your jaw. “Your tight, wet pussy stretching around me. Feels so good. I’m not even fully in you yet.”

Your eyes fluttered as his cock slipped deeper, your pelvis finally meeting his. He held your hips tight against his, pushing you back and forth slightly to grind you against his cock. The feeling of his cock pressing against your gummy walls had your eyes rolling back, needy whines escaping you as each roll of your hips. His cock knocked something so deep inside you, a long moan filling the room, “Fuck… can feel you- so good.” He didn’t know if it was the whines in your voice or the praise that spurred him on but his hips bucked up, trying to chase you. Another moaned sentence of how good you felt, how good he was fucking you fell from your lips, almost incoherent but the way your head dropped against his neck and hips stutted- Fuck!

Kung Lao grabbed your hips, rolling you underneath him. He pulled your highs up onto his hips, the angle of his cock shifting to press against your most sensitive spot. You clenched around him as he started to rock his hips deep inside you. “Fuck, so good.” His hand ran up your arm and to your hand to lace his fingers through yours, feeling you grip his hands so slightly.

His grip on your hip tightened as his thrusts sped up, his pelvis hitting your clit as his cock reached so deep inside you. Your free hand held onto his back, your nails nipping his skin as his cock snapped harder against you, drilling into you like he was made for it. His cock dragged along your walls, cum creaming at the base of his dick as he fucked into you, lost in the promise of his own orgasm.

Your walls pulsed around him feeling so full as his cock rammed harder against you. Your nails ran down his back, leaving marks in his skin as you tried to ground yourself but your second orgasm was quickly approaching. “Lao-” Your voice cut short as Kung Lao pulled your hip higher onto his, your knee bending slightly.

“Gonna make me cum if you keep sayin’ my name like that baby,” Kung Lao whined against your neck. You turned your head to attach your lips to his, pulling him closer as you lost yourself in the pleasure, your pussy fluttering around him. He chuckled softly against your lips, his grip on your hand tightening, “You gon’ cum for me angel? Can feel you squeezing me tight.”

“Please,” You squeaked, your voice cracking, “Please.” His hand slipped from your leg to rub harsh and fast circles into your clit, needing to pull another orgasm from you before he would let himself go. You tried to warn him that your high was here but you couldn't form a sentence, babbling nonsense as he drew you closer to the edge.

Kung Lao pressed a final, heavy, hot kiss to your lips, “Cum for me, make a mess baby.” The pressure inside you snapped, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. Your nails dug into his skin and your thighs squeezed his hips, trying to hold him close against you but his thrusts continued, fucking you through the plesure.

He cursed, his grip hard enough that it would leave bruises. The squeeze of your tight walls against his sensitive cock made his head spin and his abs tighten, his own high clawing up his spine. He continued his thrusts but they grew sloppy, his hips instinctively bucking inside you.

He tried to pull away but legs pulled him back in. You could barely form a sentence, your voice drowned in whines and moans, your mind lost to the blinding pleasure pulsing through you, “Pl- please! Need to feel you, need all- all of you!”

His head dropped to your shoulder, moaning softly as the tight feeling in his stomach let go, a pleasure that made his eyes screw shut taking over his body. He stilled against you, grinding his hips into yours to draw out both your orgasms.

Kung Lao stopped his movements but was reluctant to move away from you, wanting to stay as close as possible. He pressed a few sweet kisses to your shoulder before he pushed his head from your shoulder, looking down at you. “You still mad I stole your shirt?” You teased, a soft chuckled playing at your lips.

Kung Lao shook his head, “Keep stealing my shirts and you’ll end up like this every night.”

“That’s not as threatening as you think it is.” Kung Lao laughed, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before he pulled out, the both of you hissing at the feeling. Kung Lao helped you sit before cleaning you off, pressing soft kisses to the marks he left.

Kung Lao tossed you your clothes before pulling on his own pants. You reached for the grey shirt making Kung Lao laugh, “If you wanted round two you could have asked.” Kung Lao leaned over you, his hands pressing to either side of your body.

“Maybe I’m saving it for another time,” You teased, a smug smile pulling at your lips.

A knock at Kung Lao’s door made you both jump and you scrambled to pull on the shirt as Kung Lao called out a soft yes. Raiden opened the door, looking in but he kept a hand over his eyes as he stepped in. “Are you both done? I could hear you the second I walked in the front door.” Your cheeks burned in embarrassment and Kung Lao chuckled softly.

Raiden carefully took his hand away to look at you both, “Have some humility Lao,” Raiden chastised. “Put a shirt on, I brought dessert.” Raiden turned to close the door but stopped and turned back to Kung Lao, “And is this gonna be a proper thing? Because I think I’d much prefer to hear Kung Lao’s pinning then… that.”

Raiden closed the door without another word and you turned to Kung Lao, a small smile on your lips. “What’s he mean?”

Kung Lao sighed and dropped back against the bed, one hand moving to rest behind his head. “I don’t-” He cut himself off, closing his eyes. You laid next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing.”

“You know, I never expected to find someone like you,” you confessed, your fingers twirling his hair that had fallen from his bun.

Kung Lao's eyes crinkled with a hint of amusement, but his nervous tone was still present, "And what kind of someone did you expect?"

You chuckled, "Definitely not someone as incredible as you. I mean, you not only have these killer martial arts moves but also a heart that's surprisingly sweet."

Kung Lao's lips curved into a playful grin, "Well, don't let the hat fool you. It's not just for show."

You swung your leg over his hips, resting on his stomach. His hands immediately went to your hips, just resting there like they belonged. “We can go out tomorrow, talk about… this properly, but Raiden does have desert and that sounds pretty good right now.”

Kung Lao smiled and used one hand to push himself up, the other wrapping around you to keep you planted in his lap. His eyes wandered over your face, pausing on your bruised lips. “And if it wasn’t obvious,” You said softly, your lips drawing closer to his, “I really really like you Kung Lao. Ego and all.”

“Well, that's good, you can keep stealing my shirts then.”

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#m0chaminx #mk1 kung lao #mk1 raiden #mk1 2023 #mk1 #mk1 smut #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #kung lao #kung lao smut

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niftyrecipe · 11 months ago

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Easy lemon trifle dessert

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inoreuct · 11 months ago

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drink from me

a sherry-laced conversation about thirst and running away. zosan | 2k | hurt/comfort

Being a coward isn’t as easy as one might think.

It’s juxtaposition in its own right; cowardice is, as defined, a lack of bravery— And yet Sanji supposes it takes bravery to be able to ditch everything you stand for. To turn tail and run. Bravery to bear upon your shoulders the disappointment of everybody who had ever believed in you.

He sighs deeply, tilting the bottle in his hand so that the dregs of liquor slosh within. This is why he doesn’t drink.

It’s relatively easy most days. To lock his past behind a set of double doors, bar the handles with a padlock and chain so he can pretend that everything he’s running from isn’t just three paces behind, snapping at his heels, starved and ready to eat him up whole. Alcohol slots the key back into place and twists it without his permission. Twists his heart until it aches.

He doesn’t know why he’d started. The bottle of sherry had sat, nondescript and guileless and half-full on the galley table after the night’s dessert, and Sanji had paused before he’d slowly wrapped his fingers around the neck of it and let his nails scrape against the dark glass.

The cork had popped almost too easily and here he is now, taffrail digging into his forearms as he takes a long drag from his cigarette and lets bitter smoke fill his lungs full to bursting. Blood orange coats the back of his tongue, cloyingly sweet, thick on the roof of his mouth— He’d made a layered trifle with cacao nibs and caramelised cream that had been slathered between slabs of boozy vanilla sponge, and the aftertaste clings to his teeth. Sanji peers down as what’s left of the sherry glimmers vaguely inside the bottle and fights the urge to chug the rest.

He could, if he really wanted to. He hardly drinks but it certainly doesn’t mean he can’t.

A soft scrape against wood catches his attention, barely perceptible. He fights to keep his spine from stiffening, fights to maintain his loose-limbed, easy demeanor; the liquid warmth in his veins helps some but not enough, and he’s halfway through another drag when near-silent footsteps stop just behind him.

Zoro’s haori shifts in the wind, palm loosely wrapped around the end of Wado’s hilt where she’s strapped alone to his hip. “Was wondering where you went,” he says easily, looking out over the ocean.

Sanji scoffs. It burns his throat more than the sherry did. “For someone built like that, you’re surprisingly quiet, marimo.”

The immediate urge to kick himself is something new. He rarely feels it— It appears often, don’t get him wrong, he just. Ignores it. It’s a little more difficult tonight. Built like that. The noise that escapes him is mirthless. What’s that even supposed to mean, huh? Alcohol’s always made him snappy and he does feel bad for once — But he’s tired, and the chores won’t do themselves.

“Make it quick, would you?” he mutters when Zoro still hasn’t replied, low and quiet in the still evening air as he curves down to dig the heel of his palm into his temple. “My spice jars are still all over the counter, and I have to mop the floor before I wash the dishes—”

“It’s done.”

Sanji blinks, before his eyes narrow and he turns his head to look at Zoro properly. “The dishes?”

“Everything.” The swordsman huffs when Sanji gives him a dubious look, gaze flicking over and away again as he rolls his eye. “Luffy asked me to clean up the galley. Said you needed a break.”

Well. The cook exhales, measured, and buries his face into the crook of his elbow. Taps his cig so that ash doesn’t fall into his hair where he’s holding it aloft above his head. “Tell him thanks, but I don’t.”

He clocks it out of his peripheral vision when Zoro smirks and waves a hand to gesture to his cigarette and his slouch and the glass bottle dangling against wood. “What’s this, then?”

I don’t know. Shop’s closed, please fuck off and come back tomorrow morning.

The other words that sit at the tip of Sanji’s tongue are far more scathing. He feels them, bites them back viciously before he can burn anyone other than himself. “If there’s a single thing out of place in there I’m gonna—”

“Kick my ass, I know, I know.” Zoro chuckles under his breath. “Don’t you get tired of saying the same things over and over again?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t constantly choose to be selectively deaf, moss-for-brains.”

The swordsman huffs another soft laugh, and conversation peters out after that. Sanji feels an itch building at the base of his skull, flickering just under his skin; it’s making him restless. He taps the bottle against the rail just to fill the silence. Zoro reaches a hand out and Sanji gives it to him easily, unthinkingly, watching and pretending he isn’t as the swordsman thumbs over the faded paper label that’s peeling at the corner.

Zoro’s hands are scarred, he notes. He knows this, of course, but he never gets tired of letting his gaze drift over tan skin and old scars, thin slivers of pearly tissue painted silver in the moonlight. A breeze ruffles his hair as Zoro finally drinks, and he’s distantly surprised to see that it’s a measured sip and not a swig like what it usually would have been.

Fucking hell. Sanji’s inhale shudders when he pushes himself up and stands straight, now-free hand wrapping around lacquered wood as he finishes his cigarette and tosses the butt over the side. He needs to stop thinking. He’s paying too much attention. There’s a pressure building behind his forehead and Zoro is an overwhelming presence beside him, unavoidable, stoic and staunch as ever, perfect posture, perfect honour, a sentinel with a pure white sword like some sort of— of hero from a storybook. Perfect perfect perfect.

It’s all building like a scream behind his lips, a river at a bottleneck, and he clenches his jaw to keep it in. Grits his teeth until he hears them creak because what would happen if he opened his mouth? Nothing good, he’s sure. Nothing anyone needs.

Sanji nearly startles when the bottle taps against his elbow. “Talk to me.”

“Nothing to say,” he replies immediately, taking a careless gulp and holding in a cough.

Zoro’s slow exhale feels like it shifts the wind itself. Their ship creaks gently. “You always have something to say, curls.”

“Look, you—” He cuts himself off, tempering his breath. “I’m tired, alright? So can you just get to the point?” Fuck, he needs another cigarette.

Maybe that’s the problem. He knows he’s the problem, sure, but Sanji suspects that he’s been running for so long that he’s forgotten how to walk. It’s grown into him like weeds wound through his ribs, the way he sees poison in water that’s perfectly clean, the way peace makes him more anxious than chaos does. He needs to stop running. He doesn’t know how.

Zoro pries the sherry from his fingers and it’s only then that he relaxes the death grip he’d unintentionally had, a shudder slipping over his shoulders. Zoro holds the bottle loosely between his scarred fingers and doesn’t drink.

The silence thickens. Static crackles within his bones.

Sanji doesn’t know why he starts talking. Doesn’t know why it feels like a dam breaking in his chest, but his mouth is open, and the words are emptying out. “I’m tired of looking over my shoulder for something that isn’t there. Luffy gave me something to run towards, for once, but—”

He doesn’t know how to say it’s not enough without sounding ungrateful, without being greedy. “Sometimes I think I could… consume every one of the Blues, and still want more,” he allows. “Need more.” His fingers lace together, and Sanji dips his head with a wry smile even as he looks at the endless expanse of sky in front of them. “I’m afraid I’ll drink the world and still come up dry.”

There is a thirst in him. Something different than what had wracked him for a month on that barren rock. Hunger he can handle; he eats just enough to stave it off and goes about his day. This, though— Sanji can’t help the way it buzzes in the back of his head and keeps him wound up like a coil of electrical wire. He kneads dough and whisks egg whites just to have something to do with his hands. He defaults to his usual barbs when he’s feeling ungrounded so he can kid himself into thinking he possesses some semblance of normality. His shoulders ache as he stares out over the sea and wonders what it’s like to hold so much and still, still, be so achingly empty.

The winds change, carding cool fingers through his hair.

“Drink from me,” Zoro says, and Sanji’s breath catches between his teeth.

His head snaps up to find Zoro already looking at him, face unreadable, elbows on the taffrail and bottle cupped in his hands. The swordsman looks serene, Sanji thinks. Gaze trained straight ahead, ever clear of his objectives as Wado gleams at his side, starlight in an ivory sheath.

“Drink from me,” he repeats. The words are solemn as they always are in moments like these, the liminal space just after dusk but before true night, as his eyes shift over to Sanji and lock in place. “I won’t let you go thirsty again.”

Sanji’s mouth dries. It’s hard not to feel pinned as Zoro looks at him; the weight of his gaze is almost physically tangible, like a familiar green coat settling over his shoulders. That’s the thing about Zoro— For all Sanji jokes about him having plant life in his skull, the swordsman has a penchant for dropping absolutely earth-shaking statements without even seeming to think about them at all. The cook swallows once, twice, tries to find his words as his lips part and loses them as soon as he takes his next breath.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever stop feeling like a ticking time bomb. But as Zoro’s lashes flutter and he looks away, Sanji feels something in him settle. The relentless buzz that always seems to sit just beneath his skin soothes out into a quiet hum.

Maybe part of it’s how Zoro’s scarred and still perfect. Untouchable. Sanji couldn’t hurt him even if he tried, even if he blows apart.

His fingers wrap, unthinking, around the neck of the bottle as it’s pushed back into his hand, the pressure of Zoro’s touch lingering until he’s sure that Sanji has a good grip. The swordsman’s boots brush softly across the planks as he turns to leave and he’s halfway to the stairs before Sanji speaks.

“Marimo.”

He knows Zoro turns without even looking. “Hm?”

“Did Luffy really ask you to clean up the galley?”

A pause, before Zoro starts walking again. “Get some sleep, cook. I’ll take the rest of your watch.”

The silence he leaves in his wake is honey-thick. First watch is Sanji’s shift, it always is— He cleans up the galley and stays awake until Zoro comes to take over.

(The galley is clean. His watch is covered. His mind is quiet.

For once, he can’t find himself another reason to stay.)

The sherry holds no evidence of them ever having shared it. Sanji lifts the tinted glass and there’s no trace of Zoro, no proof that his mouth had ever been where Sanji’s is— None of the candied orange and rosemary from the duck they’d had for dinner, gamey and blood-sweet.

I won’t let you go thirsty again.

Sanji tastes it still, gentle in the back of his throat as he drains the bottle.

#wrote this all listening to hozier #not a necessary accompaniment but cherry wine fits the mood perfectly even though the lyrics don’t 😌#zosan #one piece #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #sanji #one piece zosan #one piece sanji #zoro #zoro x sanji #one piece zoro #when will i ever stop angsting sanji you ask? NEVER #cuffs him over the head because he doesn’t know how to accept affection LOOK AT HOW MUCH ANGST I CAN FIT IN THIS BAD BOY #ino writes #will i ever stop using fruit and food and liquor as symbolism? also never

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foodshowxyz · 3 months ago

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Craving something decadent? 🍫🥥

Try this easy Chocolate Coconut Trifle! Layers of moist chocolate cake, creamy coconut, and rich frosting come together in a dessert that's as impressive as it is delicious. Perfect for any occasion—no fancy ingredients required!

Recipe:

Bake a chocolate cake and let it cool.

Mix sweetened condensed milk with coconut cream.

Poke holes in the cake and pour the coconut mixture over it.

Cut the cake into cubes and layer with shredded coconut and chocolate frosting.

Chill for 2 hours, garnish, and enjoy! Who’s ready to dig in? 😋

#food #food blogs #delicious #recipe #food pics #homemade #foodshow #food photography #dessert #cake #dessert goals #desserts #chocolate lovers #easy recipes #daily recipes

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mariacallous · 2 months ago

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Apple Sharlotka is a popular Russian and Polish apple cake that is easy to prepare and requires only a handful of ingredients. This dessert is dense with apples, but the cake surrounding the fruit is light and airy.

Sharlotka comes from a style of cake or trifle called “Charlotte Cakes,” which are typically made with ladyfingers or sponge cake. The first apple Sharlotka is credited to a French chef, who prepared it in honor of the wife of Tsar Alexander I of Russia. While early versions of Sharlotka were decadent and complicated, over time the cake has evolved into a simple treat that can be easily baked at home. My own Ukrainian grandmother made apple Sharlotka more than any other cake, likely due to the fact that it is as easy to make as it is comforting and delicious. Along with a few apples, the batter is made all in one bowl with eggs, sugar, flour and vanilla.

Apple Sharlotka is best made with sweet and tart Granny Smith apples, or an heirloom apple, like Winesap. When the cake comes out of the oven it will have a crisp and crackly crust on top that softens the longer it sits. Just before serving, shower the cake with powdered sugar for added sweetness on top.

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recipeshub24 · 14 days ago

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Cooking Homemade meal using this perfect Recipe- YOU WILL LOVE IT😍😍

Strawberry Cheesecake Trifle Strawberry Cheesecake Trifle Introduction If you’re looking for an eye-catching dessert that tastes even better than it looks, you’re in the right place! The Strawberry Cheesecake Trifle is a delicious and easy-to-make dessert full of creamy cheesecake, sweet strawberry sauce, and cake. It’s p... 🍕🍟🥪 ✅ Don’t miss out, Get The full Recipe Here 🥙🥡🍖

#cakerecipes #RecipeIndex #delicious #food #Cake #cheese #Cheesecake #Easy #Fruit #recipe

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thequeenofthewinter · 8 months ago

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Dahlia and Sophrine's Excellent Kitchen Adventure

A pleasant afternoon/evening to all. I was deeply inspired by @sylvienerevarine's lovely OC Soph. By the way you should check out her work. It's absolutely fantastic and an assured good time. (You can find it here.) ...so, have a little one shot I have written where Dahlia and Soph's worlds meet.

Link to AO3

“…and can you believe that they thought they were going to use kwarma eggs in a traditional Summerset soufflé? Pah,” Sophrine scoffs as she stirs the custard in her pot. “Of course, something like that would never work. The proteins are too dense to inflate anything other than the Gourmet’s misplaced ego.”

Dahlia leans against a wall as she listens attentively to the pretty Breton woman talk about the tales of her most recent cooking adventures—even if she has no idea what she is talking about.

Over the last few months, a rumor has been spreading of a new chef in Kynesgrove with skills which could rival even those of the Gourmet himself. Naturally, the High Queen was curious, and thus, extended an invitation for her to come and cook in the kitchen at the Palace of the King’s.

Luckily for her, Sophrine and her husband Roggi had nothing else better to do on a Sunday afternoon other than to accept her invitation, and so here they are: Dahlia with Sophrine helping—or at least trying to provide what limited help she can to the great chef as they mix together a trifle for their dessert, and Ulfric with Roggi sitting out in the Great Hall doing—well, whatever it is that men do when their spouses have left them to their own devices.

“Is it terribly hard to bake?” Dahlia asks as she moves forward to pick up one of the chef’s knives to chop some of the fruit on the counter.

Sophrine turns her head towards her, all the while stirring vigorously at the thickening vanilla concoction in the steel pot before her. “Oh no, I mean—well, it does take some practice, and you can’t say have a parade of mammoths stomping by as you make it; but, other than that, it’s easy. I could even show you before I leave.”

“I’d love that. That’s very kind of you. I’ll have to make sure to send down for some of Ilse’s danishes before you go, and—”

“Everything okay in here?” Ulfric’s voice sounds from the doorway, and when Dahlia turns, she can see that once again, he has poked his head around the corner to see what they are doing.

She bites her lip as she tosses a knowing glance over to Sophrine. He has been doing this all afternoon. Who knew her husband could be so nosy?

“We’re just the same as we were 10 minutes ago when you came to check on us, my heart.” She sighs. While she knows that he means well, he is starting to grate on her nerves. “Why don’t you go back out to Roggi? It’s like you’re afraid of socializing and making friends which I know you are not.”

“Yes, well—”

Dahlia stops chopping more ingredients, and turns around completely to face her husband, hands on her hips. “If you tell me that you’re afraid of someone with a knot in his beard, I am going to tell Galmar, and he’ll hit you with the broadside of his battle axe until he knocks some sense back into you.”

“You wouldn’t.” He challenges as he raises a brow.

Sophrine tries—and fails—to hold back a chuckle at the two of them as she begins to pour her custard into its glass presenting dish. “She would.” She shrugs as she begins to layer the fruit Dahlia had cut on top. “Perhaps I have not known her for more than a few hours, but she seems the type not to be,“ she nods down at the dessert in front of her, “trifled with.”

“I just thought that I could help you or maybe start taking the dishes out to the—”

Dahlia abruptly snatches one of the many wooden spoons hanging on the wall beside her and throws it towards Ulfric, nearly missing his head. Intentionally, of course. “If you do not leave here this instant, the next one will not miss.”

While the High King may be a formidable and rather stubborn man, he knows better than to try his wife again. He quickly turns tail, walking back to the Great Hall to see Roggi sitting politely on the bench just where he had left him.

Ulfric sighs as he sits back down across from the man. “I tried to go in there again, and my wife threw a spoon at me. Clearly, I should be looking for threats closer to home rather than—”

“I can still hear you, you know.” Dahlia’s voice carries from the kitchen, echoing through the hall. “And I did not even throw it at you just in your general direction. If I had wanted to hit you, I would have.”

Ulfric turns, shouting back to her, “In High Rock that would be considered an assassination attempt.”

He receives no further reply. Apparently his wife thinks she has tortured him enough in front of their company, and he turns back to Roggi who is still patiently sitting in front of him. “I need a glass of mead.”

At that, Roggi perks up, a true smile on his face for the first time in this entire encounter. “You like mead? Sometimes Soph and I brew our own from the honey in our apiary.”

“You know, I have always wanted to try that myself, but I never have the damn time.”

“I can imagine that you don’t. Not with how much of a spitfire your wife seems to be. Is she always that? My wife can be—”

Before he can finish his sentence, Sophrine’s voice can be heard from the kitchen. “Remember I can hear you too, and I am the one who makes your dinners.”

At that Ulfric begins to get up from his seat, gesturing for Roggi to do the same “Actually, I have quite the collection of mead in the cellars if you’d like to see it? …and I am certain our wives will not be able to hear us there.”

“That sounds absolutely delightful, and I would love to take you up on that offer immediately.”

#skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #dahlia wintersnow #sophrine Aulette #ulfric stormcloak #roggi knot-beard #winter writes

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