#luca the bear smut

[companionjones]

Copenhagen

Pairing: Luca x Fem!Berzatto!Reader

Fandom: The Bear (Hulu)

Summary: You go to Copenhagen with Marcus, and meet Luca.

Warnings: SMUT, Cursing

*******

    “I don’t know why you’re coming with me,” Marcus stated in the airport. “You know I can do this by myself.”

    “I do know you can do this by yourself,” you agreed, “But I can’t explain it. I have to watch you do this by yourself...and going to Copenhagen is pretty great, too.”

    Marcus smiled. “Yeah, right.” He rolled his eyes.

    You were a Berzatto, Bear and Sugar’s little sister. It was Carmy’s idea to open a new restaurant when you all found Mikey’s money, and you and Nat were just helping out where you could. You threw yourself into this new project, though. A lot of it was to honor your late brother, but there was something else involved. You couldn’t put your finger on it, no matter how hard you tried. For some reason, you were as driven to open up the Bear as Carmy was, and you weren’t even involved in the kitchen.

    Copenhagen was a beautiful city. Honestly, you loved anywhere that wasn’t America, but Chicago was your home.

    “Who are you?” a British voice called out as you entered the pastry section of the kitchen.

    You caught the eye of the man wondering who you were and quickly answered, “My name is Y/n Berzatto, are you Luca?”

    He nodded, “That’s correct. You’re here to ask me questions?”

    “About Marcus and your time together today, yes,” you confirmed.

    Before you could get your first question in, Luca had a query of his own. “Why didn’t you come in with Marcus today?”

    “We’re opening a restaurant back in Chicago. There’s a lot of stuff I have to do,” you smiled.

    Luca smiled as well. “Alright. Fire away.”

    You had a few questions to as Luca regarding Marcus and the craft, and that took you about ten minutes. “Thank you,” you bid genuinely when you were done.

    “No problem,” Luca was still smiling at you. “Can I ask, why did you come all the way to another country when you could have sent those questions in an email?”

    There was that same line of questioning Marcus had been asking you as you got on the plane over there. “Because...I just want everything to go right for this restaurant. I can’t explain it...but...”

    “You care about everything, more than anything,” he finished for you.

    That was the best you had heard your reasoning be explained, and you weren’t even the one that explained it. “Yeah,” you smiled at him in return.

    “Yeah.” Luca went on, “Do you cook?”

    “No, no,” you laughed off. “That’s my brothers’ thing. My-my sister and I stick to the paperwork side of things.”

    “I find that surprising,” Luca revealed, “Carmen is the best chef I’ve ever worked with.”

    You laughed again. “Yeah, I get that all the time.”

    “Do you want to help me out with something?” Luca offered.

    Daring forward, you peaked at his work. “What is it?”

    “It’s called a compote. I could teach you how to make it, if you’d like.”

    “Haven’t you done enough teaching for today?” You referenced Marcus.

    Luca just smiled at you. “I don’t consider this work. Especially involving someone as beautiful as you.”

    You felt your cheeks heat up. “Well, how could I say no to that invitation?”

    Making it was easy enough. It involved boiling mixed berries, sugar, and honey...and that’s about it. You knew he went extra easy on you.

    “Do you make this dessert for all the girls who wander into your kitchen?” you teased as you and Luca shared the compote.

    He was quick to quietly respond. “No. Only you.”

    A chill ran down your spine. You decided to remind him. “I’m only in Copenhagen for a week.”

    “Darling, I’ve been wanting to do this since you walked in here.”

    Without another thought, you leaned in and kissed him.

    Almost everything about him was soft. His hands as they caressed your face, his lips as they danced with yours, everything was soft except for his chest as you racked your hands down it, aiming for his belt. His chest was hard as hell. You could feel his muscles flex as your hands came in contact with him.

    Luca stopped you as you reached his belt. “Not yet,” he told you before standing and lifting you up onto the counter with little effort, “Can I take these pants off, darling?”

    You lifted your hips as he slid the clothing down your legs. He planted a few kisses on them as he rose back up to meet your lips again.

    Luca stood between your legs and slid his fingers up your folds as he kissed you. He held the two fingers up between you. “All this for me?”

    “You weren’t the only one who wanted this to happen as soon as I walked in,” you revealed.

    Luca put his two fingers in his mouth and sucked, all while keeping his eyes on you. “Now this is the best thing I can remember tasting in a long time...you ready?”

    “Please,” you nodded.

    Luca kissed you again before inserting his two fingers inside you.

    You whined against his lips, and grabbed onto his shoulders.

    Slowly, he started pumping them in and out of you with you rocking your hips along with him. Luca made out with you as he did that. You could barely keep up with his tongue. Soon, he brought in three fingers, and suddenly, you couldn’t keep up at all. You decided to wrap your legs around Luca and to just sit there and let it happen to you.

    You felt your orgasm rising in your stomach. You were almost there when Luca pulled his fingers out of you.

    “Fuck, darling. Can’t take it anymore,” was all he could say. He pulled his pants down enough to free his sizeable dick before shoving it inside you.

    You let out a yelp, but Luca cut you off by covering your lips with his again.

    Luca immediately started thrusting in and out of you. “That’s more like it,” he said when he broke away from kissing you. At a certain point, he just held you close as he, almost violently, made love to you.

    “Luc--!” Your voice broke off as you came.

    “That’s it. Squeeze me just like that--Good girl,” Luca emphasized as he came inside you with one final thrust. He brought his forehead back to yours before holding you in another kiss.

    When that kiss broke, you asked Luca, “Can I have my pants back, please?”

    “Of course.” He broke away from you with a laugh as he quickly readjusted his pants and belt and found your clothes lying on the floor.

    You took the last bite of the compote as you waited.

    With everyone’s clothes back on, Luca extended, “You’re more than welcome to come back any time you’d like, and not just for...that. Though, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

    “I wouldn’t be opposed, either,” you returned, mocking his accent.

    Luca cracked a smile as he looked at you. He slowly leaned back in for another kiss.

    When you returned it, Luca leaned you against the counter.

    The kiss eventually ended and you bid, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Luca.”

    “See you tomorrow, Y/n.”

    Two of your hands touched as you walked away, only breaking contact when you were too far to keep it.

    You left Luca alone in his kitchen.

Sequel! Chicago

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, I have more stories over on my page, you should check it out. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you!

[nolita-fairytale]

YO THIS SHIT IS TOO SPICY THAT I HAVE TO SHARE A PREVIEW OF CHAPTER EIGHT OF BURN YOUR LIFE DOWN

ok listen, i'm about to pass out while writing this AND FOR WHAT?! it's too spicy wow. anyways, this is a preview of chapter eight of 'burn your life down' and there is so much smut you're welcome.

this chapter drops TOMORROW, most likely in the evening, so i need everyone to quite literally buckle up. i know i say that all the time but... i mean it.

minors, please, respectfully, do not interact with what is below the cut:

“I already know how you feel about my fingers. Think I should give you my mouth too, hm?” he rasps, his question anything but rhetorical. 

Luca releases your hands that he’s pinned to the mattress, beginning to kiss down your jaw, your neck, your bare torso, pausing to take each of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flickering across them like it’s a goddamn preview. 

“I need to hear you say it,” he commands, his voice quiet yet dominant. Luca pauses, his journey south, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses across your belly as he looks up at you with piercing blue eyes. 

“D’you want my mouth? Will you let me taste you?” 

“Please,” you’re too quick, too eager to respond when you’re looking down at him, looking down at the sight before you. 

[wtfsteveharrington]

something new | luca x reader

i was awoken from a dream last night

contents: requested size kink so luca is hung!! basically pwp, slight somnophilia if you squint, unprotected sex, spanking, lots of pet names from Luca, reader receiving fingering, dirty talk, semi-submissive reader vibes, pulling out for backshots but some cum play still whoops

a/n: used a photo of will bc it fit the vibe so well 🌝 can we, as a fandom, decide a last name for this man!! only semi proof read i fear pls ignore any mistakes. also no pronouns or real reader description used.

contents: 2.7k.

the climax right before morning's first light

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Your body feels heavy as it’s pulled from a deep sleep. 

There’s warm lips on your shoulder placing soft kisses along your skin, a hand kneading at your ass while you wake up. You hum into the quiet room while burying your face into the pillow desperately not ready to wake up. “S’everything okay?” 

Luca’s chuckling against you, sliding his calloused hand up the back of your thigh while you stay lying on your stomach. He looks down at the sight of you illuminated in the moonlight from his apartment window, soaking in every inch. His hand cups under the bottom of your behind, giving it a little jiggle for his own entertainment. 

“All’s fine, my love. Didn’t mean to wake you so early.”

You turn your head towards the nightstand and it takes a few blinks for your eyes to finally focus on the dim clock. 3:30 AM. Early enough for him to get up to shower, make tea, and leave out a small note of affection on the counter for when you wake up at a much more reasonable time. He typically doesn’t wake you, opting to shimmy out of the bed but not this morning. 

There’s lips on your neck now. “Was dreaming about you and had to make sure you were real.” His hand is sliding in between your thighs now, pulling them apart. Inches away from where you’re starting to crave him. You’re whining in the pillow now while arching your hips up towards his touch. He’s grinning against your skin and rocking himself towards your side. Luca’s hard and heavy against you. “Gonna go take care of this in the bathroom. Just needed a little touch of you before I go.” 

You’re shaking your head now, trying to unpin your arm that’s trapped between the two of you so you can find the waistband of his sweats slung low on his waist. “No, no. Don’t go.” The elastic is tight against your fingers as you slip your hand into his pants, fingertips brushing along his growing length which rewards you with a moan from your boyfriend. His hand gently slaps down on the flesh of your ass before he starts to pull away. You murmur out protests as you stretch your arms out straight ahead of you, fingers curling around the edge of the bed. There’s a rush of cold air as he pulls the blanket from your frame and tosses it to the empty side of the bed. 

He’s grabbing a pillow next and tapping his fingers against your side, grinning as you take the hint and lift your hips for him. “Just lay there, Darling. Let me take care of you.” Luca makes sure you’re comfortable. Taking his time to fluff the pillow just right. Running his wide hands down your back while still lazily waking up. The bed creaks under the two of you as he moves to kneel between your spread legs. He admires your stretched out form. The curve of your ass propped up and his for the taking. You’re wearing an oversized cliche t-shirt from the last trip you took together and this old pair of underwear with a half worn off print. Not the sexiest outfit to ever grace this bedroom to say the least and yet Luca doesn’t mind in the slightest. 

His thumbs slide along the seam of your underwear that’s stretched across your cheeks, warm hands sliding up your backside to your lower back to gently work on your relaxed body. He leans forward to reach up towards your shoulders, the length of him sliding against your ass and eliciting a moan from you. Luca’s taking advantage of this position to rut himself against you, the feeling of your soft body under him working him up even more than he thought was possible. 

“Always so good for me, aren’t you?” You’re nodding against the pillow, turning your head to the side to press a kiss against the hands that are now on your shoulders. “Only yours, Luca.” He’s groaning above you and there’s warm, open mouth kisses being pressed along your spine now. 

There’s a shuffling coming from behind you as Luca makes quick work of kicking his sweatpants off. You feel the warmth of his skin directly on the inside of your thighs now as he sits back up. He’s crooking fingers in the waistband of your underwear and finally, finally pulling them down your thighs and leaving you exposed to him. They’re stuck right above your knees - Both Luca kneeling between your legs and how far spread open you are making it impossible for them to go any lower. “Are you passionate about these?”

You barely shake your head no, because again they’re old and worn and you find it endearing he even asked, before the sound of them being ripped off of you fills the room causing you to gasp out. Luca haphazardly tosses them towards the trash can in the corner and gets to work pulling his own boxes down. You’re needy. Wiggling your hips through the air in slow movements to entice him. As if he needed anymore motivation. You follow his guidance and haphazardly make work taking off your shirt, balling it up and throwing it on his now empty side of the bed.

Since Luca’s doing all the work you allow yourself to stay, essentially, half asleep. Your eyes are still heavy and hooded and your body lax against the bed. He’s delivering one more small smack to the roundest part of your ass before his fingers find their way between your thighs. Normally he’d take more time teasing you, building you up. As much as he yearns to spend the whole day tangled in you, he does have to get to work soon. For now he’s going to be quick but he plans on taking his time with you again tonight. 

There’s fingers sliding up either side of your folds, a slow languid motion to get you used to his touch before his middle fingers slips in. You’re slackjaw against the pillow, letting out a stream of breathy whimpers you can’t control. Luca knows you. Knows every inch of you. So he’s using that knowledge to get you ready for him. His pointer finger slides into you while his thumb finds your clit at the same time. You’re wet, the scissoring and dragging motions Luca’s making causing a slick sound to come from between your thighs. 

“Luca, please.” He grins down at your backside, enjoying the view of his fingers working deep inside of you. “Always so greedy, aren’t you?” You respond by rocking your hips back against his hand and clenching down against his fingers which causes him to chuckle. “Alright, alright.” His hand slides out of you and smacks down against the back of your thigh. Your left behind wetness from his fingers attracts the cold air and causes goosebumps to rise. 

You secretly like when Luca spends a little less time stretching you out then he probably should. The way your boyfriend stretches you out as he first pushes in you has become a piece of heaven. There are nights he spends as long as you’ll allow eating you out and fingering you, toying with your pussy for his own enjoyment. Leaving his chin wet with you and a darken spot on the sheets until he fucks through how sloppy he’s turned you. 

Not tonight. You’re wet, yes. But you know there’s going to be a heavenly burning feeling coming your way. The amount of care your boyfriend puts into you making you comfortable enough to open yourself in that way. Knowing he’d stop the second you asked if needed. 

The head of his cock sits heavy against your entrance and you feel yourself desperately clenching around nothing. He’s pulling you from your train of thought and your body is buzzing in anticipation. The slap of the tip of him against your clit causes your body to jerk which prompts Luca to use his free hand to grip your hip, holding you in place. “Be good, yeah? Let me get us off before I gotta go. Can’t have you wet all day waiting for me to come back home to take care of you.” Luca lines himself up with your hole, sliding just the tip of himself in which pulls a moan from both of you. 

“Baby, please.” Pride swells in Luca’s chest as you start to beg. If he hadn’t been gripping your hips then you would have rolled them back to take more of his length in you. Instead he goes slow, allowing you to adjust to his girth inch by inch. Even after dating for this long, you still weren’t used to him yet. 

There’s a bit of drool coming from the corner of your still parted lips as Luca works his length in. Your boyfriend was well endowed to say the least. A good length, something you could still take to the back of your throat but not so long you couldn’t sink all the way down it. But his girth? That was unmatched. Thick, heavy, and all yours. 

“Feel so amazing, Darling. Was dreaming about this pussy spreading around me.” Luca jerks another inch in without warning, a squelching sound coming from you as the movement causes some wetness to drip out. You can’t form a thought when he’s got you like this. Your body is still relaxed against the bed as Luca stretches you out. 

It takes a moment for him to bottom out and all your mind can focus on is just how deep he feels inside of you. The sensation causes your breath to catch, pathetically letting out whatever whimper you can muster and allowing him to use you to his heart’s content. Luca gives your hip a little squeeze as a warning he’s going to start moving, giving you a second to accept what’s to come before the first roll of his hips hits. 

You’re a mess. Groggy still, already becoming cock drunk. It’s easy to do with him. “S’full, Luc. So, so full.” Even with his brows knitted in concentration as he tries not to instantly cum at the sight of your pussy stretched around him, he’s proud to get you this way. 

But God does the sight of you already have him close. 

Stretched out around him, filled to the max you could be. You look so beautiful like that. Luca fucks through all the wetness you give him, hips building a steady rhythm easily. His eyes flash over towards the clock and something about the pressure of a time constraint is making him a bit more feral than he expected. 

His pace quickens and you’re back to being reduced to a drooling mess under him. Moaning out an incoherent string of pleas, praise, and curses. You couldn’t repeat what’s coming from your mouth even if you tried. His heavy balls slap against your clit which each thrust and Luca’s grabbing your hips with both hands now to get a better grip on you. Fingertips digging in enough that bruises will be left as he starts to fuck into with a firm pace. 

“Such a perfect fuckin’ pussy. So wet for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna be sore all day now but you don’t care. Every step’s gonna remind you how good I fuck you.” 

Your head is spinning. 

You allow yourself to be fucked by Luca, hands gripping the edge of the bed as you desperately clutch anything within reach to keep yourself grounded. He’s… Brutal. Fucking you for his own pleasure in a way. He needed to get off and get off quick before work - But arrogantly knew how good you were for him. Knew that him using you like this would get you off too. 

One of his hands gripping your hip loses his grip and there’s another smack being delivered to the fat of your ass. He groans at the sight of you bouncing, the red mark already blooming from his hand. The burning of being stretched out is fading away and being replaced by the pure pleasure of your boyfriend wrecking your body. 

His hand is sliding up from your ass to press down on the small of your back, a comforting touch compared to the brutal pace of his hips. Long forgotten is the sleepy mask of morning, Luca just chasing after pleasure for the both of you now. You purposely flutter yourself around his length, trying to pull him closer as well. 

“Can you come for me, Darling? You can do that, can’t you? Wanna feel this pretty little pussy finish before I do.” You’re squeezing yourself tighter around him now, the soft pillowcase feeling rougher as your face continues to bounce against it. The room is getting hotter by the second around you two. 

Something about the combination of circumstances has you getting close to finishing far faster than normal. You catch yourself biting down on the pillow as Luca drags his nails down the soft skin of your back, his hips not losing pace as the all too familiar sensation starts to coil up deep inside of you. 

You’re crying out at the sensation, pussy tightening around him as your orgasm rocks through your body. Toe curling, back arching, clit throbbing orgasm. You collapse even further into the bed, a mess of breathless whimpers as Luca continues to fuck through your sensitive body. God you sound lewd with how wet you ended up. 

Luca’s quick to follow after watching you come undone around him.  

He’s moaning out your name, giving a few more pumps through your wetness before quickly pulling out. Stroking his soaked length to keep the sensation and then you feel warmth splattering along your ass and back as he cums on you. He’s breathless and whiney, teasing his own overstimulated cock behind you. Thumb swiping along his tip to collect the last droplets before wiping it in-between your folds and pressing it into you. 

As much as he loved cumming in you, he wanted to make sure he had time to get you cleaned up before he had to leave but he still couldn’t leave you without anything left inside of you. 

Luca drags you to the bathroom after he gives you a moment to collect yourself. Normally he’d take his time with aftercare but sadly he’s lacking just that - time. You use the restroom while he draws the two of you a shower and take a good look at yourself in the mirror while he corrects the water temperature. Healing hickies low on your chest, your hair looking crazy from the combination of sleeping and being wrecked. He’s got twenty minutes left before he runs out of time to make his breakfast but he refuses to leave you in a pile in the bed. 

He makes quick work of washing off your over sensitive body, letting you stand there and run your fingers along his chest, his arms, whatever inch of skin you can reach. “You’re so pretty.” 

Now after what just happened in the bedroom? You’d think nothing would phase him. 

But Luca’s cheeks are going bright red at the compliment. He cups your face with his soapy hands, bringing you two together for a kiss as a silent thank you. 

Luca gets you dried off and sends you back to bed with a pat on your ass. He’s rushing to get ready for work while you lay down in a lump on the bed. Towel tight around your body and the covers long forgotten. It takes a few minutes for him to emerge from the bathroom clothed and hair gelled but he can’t help laughing at the sight of you. You feel the towel being tugged away from your body, the previously discarded blanket being tucked around you and a kiss pressed to the top of your head. 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

He leaves everything you need for your morning tea sitting on the counter before running out the door.

[inklore]

just a taste

premise: meeting luca after work doesn't usually end up with the two of you in an intense lip lock, both of you knowing once you start it's hard to stop. but that's what offices are for, right?

pairing: luca x (f)reader

word count: 3.1k

contents: literally barely any plot here, oral (f rec), unprotected p in v, coming inside, established relationship, doing it at the workplace, teasing, dirty talk, pet names.

note: i know the bare minimum about this man because i’ve never seen the bear but those tattoos, the accent, the hair?? fill me like an eclair is all i have to say ok!

The cool breeze of the night air almost makes you regret not just heading straight home and slipping under the steam of a nice long shower and grabbing the first blanket you see on the sofa and planting yourself there for the rest of the night. Await your boyfriend's arrival under the comfort of cotton and cushion that he’ll surely plop down next to you on after he’s kicked off his shoes. His cold fingers finding you under the blanket to pull you close to his side, a string of kisses pressed along the side of your neck before finding your lips. The smell of yeast and sugar—embedded in his skin at this point—making you bury your nose into his collarbone. 

But this was a ritual for the both of you. 

You finishing your studies and then meeting him after work. 

The two of you walking home together, barely making it through the threshold of your place before lips and clothes were being pressed together and thrown to the floor. Luca’s soft laugh at needing to shower. Thus always leading to your face pressed into the wall of the shower and Luca’s fingers digging into your hips as he thrust inside of you. 

So that nibble of regret doesn’t last long when you come to a stop in front of his work. The makings of anticipation pull at the corner of your mouth as you grab your phone from your bag and start to text him to let him know you’re out front. 

A text that’s barely on the last word when the breeze of the door is hitting you and making you look up, “you can go in. He's in the back.” a co-worker you’ve met a dozen times, but his name slips your mind as you give him an appreciative smile and thank him as you slip through the doors as he walks out. 

You could enter the kitchen a dozen times—a million, a billion—your nose filling with that sweet aroma, Luca bent over a table, a dish, fingers deep in a ball of dough, the monochromatic uniform making his tattoos stand out on his skin like the most beautiful canvas, and you’d never get over the view. 

Over how your insides react when you see him in his element.

See him doing what he loves. 

It’s like the first time every time. 

Just like the first time he dragged you into the kitchen after your tenth date. Showing you his own version of paradise. His love. His joy. The way his face lit up when your eyes brightened when you bit into the scone he had made—saved—for you. The euphoric sweetness a good dessert can do to one's brainstem is still a scientific mystery to you, but you’d gladly leave the research to the experts if you could experience it forever. 

Taste Luca’s creations forever. 

That memory seems like ages ago. Now well into two years of your relationship. 

Nothing seems to fade with Luca. 

Your first times feeling just as tortuous to your fluttering insides as the tenth or twentieth time around. 

It knocks you off kilter in the best way. 

And when you look over at Luca after dropping off your bag and sweater in an open chair, you can not help but laugh when he finally looks up from cleaning off the surfaces of the metal tables and that stone look of him being in chef mode falls from the creases of his face and his features melt into something soft. 

He doesn’t say anything until his arm is around your midsection, drawing you in. “Hi, beautiful.” He smiles as your lips meet in a long kiss. Kissing you as if he hasn’t seen you in days, as if he has spent the entire day waiting for this moment and this moment alone. “How was your day?” 

“Not as good as it is now,” you tease. Hand in the back of his hair, pulling his mouth back to yours. 

The hum that makes your lips buzz and that lands on your tongue as he backs you up so your back is pressed into the doorframe makes anything you could tell him about what happened in your day lackluster. Incomparable. How could you possibly think of anything worthwhile—how could anything be as worthwhile—as his tongue moving along your bottom lip, his hand at the side of your neck, his thumb rubbing a small circle into your skin? 

It couldn’t.

"Let me finish cleaning up," he smirks. Thumb and pointer reaching for your chin, squeezing it, luring you in for one last kiss before returning to cleaning and leaving you dazed in the doorway.  

And if you didn’t know how seriously Luca takes this, from the ritual of making pastries to maintaining a stern, clean kitchen, you would tell him to hurry. Complaining that it is not fair for him to kiss you like that and then make you wait for him to finish, but the payoff was always worth the wait. And you love Luca’s love for his craft. Love him in this element—watching him and seeing him go into that little part of his brain that makes him go into boss mode. 

The stern gentleness of it all. 

It’s breathtaking to watch.

It’s art.

He’s art. 

So that’s what you do. 

You push off the doorframe and enter further into the kitchen just to watch him. 

“How was your day?” You ask while watching him write on the white board in the corner. 

“Good. We got a new guy who came in.” 

“Is he any good?” 

“Better than he thinks he is.” 

“I bet you brought out his best. You always do.” You smile at him when you watch him shrug off the compliment, not missing the twitch of the corner of his mouth. Ever so modest. 

Wordlessly, he puts the cap back on the marker and sets it against the metal of the board, walking over to one of the refrigerators and pulling out a small bowl of something green and white. 

Something that looks too beautifully crafted to eat, let alone eaten by someone who might not fully understand what went into making something so decadent—something that looks like it would be served to someone with a gold card, not someone who eats boxed mac and cheese for dinner twice a week (which Luca always tries to make fancier than Kraft ever could). 

Luca hands you a spoon, “told him the only critic that mattered was sharing a bed with me.” You make a face, the both of you knowing how outlandish that sounds when the food genius himself is standing in front of you. The critic who mattered to a lot of people more than the girl who was sharing his bed. 

But it still brings a smile to your face. 

“Did he think you were utterly insane for such a statement? I think eating greasy takeout two nights in a row is five star dining.”

He chuckles, “you’re the only critic that matters to me.” His palms come down on the edge of the metal table between you as he leans against it. “The only important one at least. Try it.”

The swoop that runs through you from his words, from his eagerness to hear your thoughts on a dessert you do not even know the name of, but know you will appreciate more than anyone else because it came from someone he admires, makes your cheeks heat up. 

And when it touches your tongue, when that euphoric sweetness overcomes your tastebuds, you don’t think the English dictionary could come in handy with describing the taste. The goodness of it. Compliments, which you know Luca and his fellow chefs have heard many times before and then some. But still bring that artist's joy to their chests when your eyes widen and you look at them in something akin to shock. 

The moan you let out makes him grin.

“Good?”

“Is he single?” 

“Oh, that’s how it is, huh?” His arms cross over his chest, a playful brow raised.

You take another bite of the dessert, “I think you might want to start looking for another job.”

“And a girlfriend?”

You nod, “with something that tastes this good, I would give him my social security number easily. Oh my god.” You dramatically moan around the spoon, the action doing little to hide the simpering look on your face.

“Here I thought I was the only one who could make you spill such confidential secrets.” Luca strides across the table, coming to stand at your back. His lips pressing against the back of your neck and the top of your shoulder. 

Finding its home where your collarbone meets the junction of your throat, where he lets his warm breath blow against the known sensitivity there, then presses his lips to it. Making your back push into his front, your body melting against him. 

A soft noise lays dormant at the tail end  of your throat, making a ghost of a smirk etch against your skin from his mouth as he murmurs, “and the only one who can make those noises come out of you.”

Your voice is breathy when you say, “so much for being humble.”

"When it’s the truth, I do not need to be humble." His lips trailing to your ear, fingers running up the back of your exposed thighs, pulling up your skirt until they are at the apex of your hip, skating forward and close to your clothed mound. “Am I wrong? Should we see?” 

The spoon in your hand lucky you don’t have superhuman strength because it would be crushed in your grip right now. 

Luca’s fingers splay themselves across your pelvis, toying with the top of your underwear. “Hmm, awfully quiet now. Where’d my mouthy girl go?” An airy chuckle tickles your ear as he lets it out, “humbled are you?” 

There’s a teasing sneer forming on your mouth before it does a 180 and morphs into an ‘o’ as Luca’s fingers push into your underwear, the pad running through the clear as day arousal that’s been making your thighs clench uncomfortably since your kiss in the doorway. 

When the finger moves against your clit there's no covering up the gasps that fall from your lips. Or the way your ass grinds against the erection that’s pressing up against it. 

“Who’s humble now?” He teases. A cheeky grin on his face when he pulls his hand out from your underwear, bringing his finger to his lips and sucking it into his mouth. Making your cheeks heat even more when you turn to look at him. Your teasing turns needy as you give him that look, the one that always makes him drop whatever he is doing and have his body on yours within seconds. 

You both know that making it home now will feel ten times longer. Ten times more agonizing in the cool air with your warming bodies.

With you soaking your underwear and him hard against his zipper. 

So when he says “office”, all you can do is chew on your bottom lip in eagerness as you make a beeline towards it. Luca closer behind you than you expect when you hear the door shut seconds after you’ve entered and his mouth immediately on yours, your ass hoisted onto the nearest surface. 

Luca’s fingers making quick work to pull down your underwear, your skirt bunched at your hips. You fully expect him to pull himself up from his knees after slipping the lace from your ankle and tossing it to the floor. You expect him to come back up and slide inside of you quick and easy, but instead he’s trailing kisses and bites into your thighs. 

Blue eyes look up into yours, and he must see the need in them—that glint that tells him all you want is for him to be inside of you right now. The heady woes of foreplay just torture at this point. 

His teeth sink harder into your flesh, making you gasp. “I’ve worked hard all day; don’t I deserve a treat? A taste of the best dessert out there.” 

And how could you argue with that?

You can’t.

Not when his tongue runs from the bite mark in your skin to your wetness. Spreading you around him as he licks a stripe up your pussy. Your grip on the metal your ass is under hard and tight enough to leave marks against your palm. 

And as crude as it makes you sound, as obscene and cocky as it comes off your lips, you will never hold back from telling Luca that his talent as a chef will never outweigh how good he is with his mouth and cock. 

He’s multi-talented and it’s a blessing and a curse to your insides. 

“Oh, fuck. Luca,” your head hangs between your shoulders. Your fingers in his hair, the heel of your shoe pressed against his back—his apron long gone, leaving him in that navy blue—his fingers digging into the side of your thighs as he keeps you against his mouth. 

The mouth that’s switching between sucking your clit between his lips and rolling his tongue against it. Eating you like you’re the best dessert his tongue has ever had the pleasure of tasting. 

It never takes him long to get you there. To make your chest heave and your nerve endings light up, as if they are about to make you panic from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure that is completely taking over your body. 

His fingers have created beautiful, mouth watering food, just as they’ve made you completely lose your mind. Your legs shaking around his head. Your back involuntarily bows until it hits the metal surface of the desk you’re perched on. 

It’s when he slips two fingers inside of you that you completely lose it. The sob that pulls itself from your lungs feels red-hot in your throat as your fingers grip the strands of his blonde hair as you come against his mouth. Your hips riding out your high. Rolling against his tongue in a languid way, drawing out the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

Your body still reeling and alight with that desire-train that still has it wanting more. That heavy ache between your legs that wants to be filled. To be fucked by something bigger and thicker than a finger.

Your mouth comes down on the tabasco tattoo below Luca’s wrist in a gentle kiss, one of your favorites of his, when his hand comes to cup the back of your head to pull you up to him. 

His thumb runs from your cheek to your chin, where he pushes it up, so you’re looking up at him and he’s looking down at you as he stands between your legs. Your nails run along the tattoos along his arms, up his bicep, and to the nape of his neck. A fire burning in his eyes when your fingers run between the strands back there. 

“Tell me,” he says close to your lips. He’s checking in. Seeing if you’re too spent for his cock, seeing if there's more you want. If you want to wait until you get home. If you’re ready for him now. 

“It’d be cruel to not fuck me now.” You say it in a half-tease-half-serious tone. 

“Ooh,” he murmurs against your mouth, his tongue clicking against his teeth. “I don’t want to be cruel.” You can feel his other hand move between the two of you, undoing the button of his pants and messing with the zipper until he’s pulling himself out of them, hard and leaking. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t give my girl what she so desperately needs?” 

Luca smirks when you laugh into his mouth, “the worst kind.”

With one last kiss, lick, and nip at your lower lip, he’s rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, making your thighs shake. Nails dig into his skull as he soaks up your oversensitivity to coat himself before going lower and slipping inside of you in one slow, fluid motion. 

Your mouth hung open at the stretch, and your breath caught in your lungs. Your foreheads resting against each other as you let your walls accommodate his girth, both of your breaths heavy. The pounding you can feel between your legs—that you’re not sure is coming from him or you or something more poetic and overwhelming like your conjoined bodies aching as one, like a heartbeat aches for a chest cavity when it’s torn from a body. 

The two of you need this. 

Need each other. 

When Luca starts moving, you know the two of you are both completely fucked. Spent and so full of desire that you know your time in this office is just the start of a long night of tangled limbs and wet mouths. 

The sounds you are making against each other's mouth are breathy and intoxicating. His tongue in your mouth swallows every mewl and moan he coaxes from your body with each stroke of his cock. 

His fingers find the back of your head again, not allowing you to even think about leaving his mouth. 

You think you see stars when his palm finds the back of your thigh and pulls your leg higher on his hips. Think you could let this man completely consume you, and you’d still never be satisfied. Never get over how good it feels to feel his hips drive deeper into you, to feel the head of his cock hit that spot inside of you that makes his name roll off your tongue like a prayer. 

“Who’s pussy is it, baby?” 

"Mm'fuck," you are not sure if he is still playing the game of you leaving him for the new chef or if his filthy mouth is attempting to completely destroy you—which is nothing new when he has you coating and tightening around his cock like this. 

When you say his name, when you whine it into his mouth like a pathetic desperation, the erotic noise that it’s met with makes you cling to him tighter. Makes you press yourself closer to him. The movement makes the outside of his pants grind against your clit. 

“So beautiful,” Luca murmurs. The octave of his voice grows lower and choppy with heavy breaths the closer he gets. Neither of you lasts much longer when his pace picks up. The grip the two of you have on each other is hard and rough, enough to tear and leave marks that you’ll later kiss with gentle lips, unlike the passion that’s coming through with the hard kisses your mouths are giving as you both come. 

“How’d I get so lucky?” He breathes into your mouth, twisting your insides even more. 

[greenorangevioletgrass]

give me a minute (2/2) | chef luca

pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader word count: 6.6k warnings: established former relationship, discussions of separation and divorce, discussions of moving on, luca and reader has a son, brief mention of blood and minor injury, smut 18+ (fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, size kink? idk luca's big, dirty talk, creampie) notes: it's finally here! thank you everyone for your patience, i am a slow writer by nature and life gets in the way, but i finally got around to finish it! happy reading, and do comment, reblog, and send me asks to tell me what you think <;3 ✨follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notifications to get alerted for my latest fics ✨

<<< read part 1 here >>>

06.13 PM

Your apartment has never felt so claustrophobic after that little moment you shared with Luca. You try to stay busy in the next hour —tidying up Alfie’s room even after he made it up, checking your email four times, even doing the laundry, for fuck’s sake— as Luca keeps to himself in the kitchen area. Whether Alfie is obliviously enjoying his screen time or purposely ignoring the weird tension between his parents, you’re not entirely sure. Right now, you’re just grateful that he’s not saying anything at the moment.

The boy simply creeps up to the kitchen counter with a shy eagerness about him. “How long ‘til dinner, Dad?”

“3 more minutes, Chef,” Luca answers, focused on the task at hand, so poker-faced that it makes his son giggle.

“I’m not a chef, you’re a chef!”

“Well, where I work, we call everyone in the kitchen ‘chef.’ Out of respect.”

Alfie climbs onto the dining bench in interest, peering up to watch his father set the dish on the plates meticulously. Luca doesn’t miss how the boy deeply inhales the delicious smell in the air.

“Smells yummy.”

“Thank you,” Luca replies, his excitement seems muted although his heart is soaring. He looks up to find Alfie staring at the plate, chin propped up on his little fist. You’ve always said that he looks just like his dad, but in that moment, Luca only sees you. Alfie has the way your mouth tugs ever so slightly into a smile, the way your eyes shine in childlike wonder. In quiet thoughtfulness.

No Michelin star, earned or retained, would ever amount to this.

“Can you go get your mum and tell her dinner’s ready, please?” He softly asks Alfie, as if not wanting to disrupt this peaceful silence. “Thank you, Chef.”

“Yes, chef.” The six-year-old salutes him and pads over to your home office, which doubles as the guest bedroom. The door is open, and he sees you reorganizing the linen closet with your back to him. He hugs you from behind, startling you.

“Oh!” You put your hand on his head, stroking him lightly. “Hey, bub.”

“Daddy told me to come get you and say dinner’s ready.”

“Gotcha. Thank you.” You half-expect him to run off like he usually does, but he lingers, his arms still wrapped around you. “What’s up, bubbie?”

“Nothing.” He buries his face against your side. “Love you, Mommy.”

“I love you too, bubbie.” This makes you smile, pleasantly surprised at this seemingly random admission.

“Love Daddy too, but don’t tell him that,” he whispers as he looks up at you, putting his forefinger in front of his mouth.

“Why not?”

“Sometimes he gets sad when I say that,” he murmurs. “He doesn’t tell me, but I know it.”

Oh. His playful exterior sometimes makes you forget just how emotionally sensitive he is. And it breaks your heart that he can see through the complicated adult emotions with his childlike eyes. 

“Alfie…” you level with him and pull him closer, “Your dad loves you very very much, and I’m sure he’d be happy to hear you say that. He’s just sad because… he’s been away, and he misses you a lot.”

“He should come home, then.”

It’s so simple, the way Alfie puts it. His Dad comes home and reunites with him and you, and his puzzle would piece together perfectly again. And you all live happily ever after. The end.

The truth, of course, is not so simple. But maybe, just for tonight… Maybe you and Luca can sacrifice a few of your own puzzle pieces. For your baby boy.

So you get back on your feet and guide your son out of the room. “Come on, bub. Let’s see what Daddy cooked for us, hm?”

When you and Alfie turn the corner into the kitchen-living area, Luca is wiping the side of the plate neatly. He smiles at you somewhat nervously, like he’s not sure what to do with himself, so you throw him the figurative olive branch.

“Smells amazing,” you compliment him as you and Alfie take your seats. “What are we having, Chef?”

Luca’s eyes light up and your heart stops. You stopped calling him ‘Chef’ long ago, when the moniker became synonymous with workaholism and neglect. But there’s no venom in the way you say it tonight. Call him sentimental, but it reminds him of the early summer days in the tiny apartment you first shared in Chicago.

Of blueberry pies and barely there bumps.

He has to remind himself that this whole ‘happy family’ shtick is just a charade now, it’s all for Alfie, it doesn’t mean anything for the two of us, but he can’t help but miss this.

And little does he know, so do you.

“Well, buckle up, you guys, because we are having…” He carries the plates over and serves it to you and Alfie with a flourish, “Baked sweet potato wedges with Mediterranean dip, and our pièce-de-résistance… Alfie’s Nuggies.”

It looks nothing short of beautiful, with the wedges fanned out like autumn leaves underneath a colorful burst of cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, and feta cheese. The chicken nuggets are rich golden brown against the brilliant white plate. The splatters of sauce (is that Tahini?) is a hint of thoughtful chaos on the dish.

Your six-year-old let out a little noise of awe and amazement next to you, but no sound escapes you—not for the longest time.

“This is…” you look up at Luca as if he would have the word you’re looking for.

But his blue eyes just look a lot like I love you.

“Thank you,” you ultimately say, with absolutely no pretense whatsoever.

And if he does hear an ‘I love you’ hidden somewhere in there… he hopes he’s not imagining things.

*** 

08:37 PM

If you could travel just a few hours back in time and tell yourself that you would spend the whole day stuck at home in a nasty storm with your son and his father that you’re divorcing—and that you’d be okay with it, you would’ve probably scheduled yourself an MRI scan because clearly something is wrong.

But the night is winding down. Luca is tucking Alfie into bed for the first time in months. You are washing dishes in the quiet accompaniment of steady rain and running water, and everything feels just right.

“He’s out like a light,” Luca informs you quietly as he reemerges from Alfie’s bedroom and stops right by the kitchen counter. “Need a hand?”

“Nah, I’m just about done,” you casually wave him off. “You want anything to drink?”

“Uh… what do you got?”

“Scotch, gin…” you pause, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. The sink tap squeaks a little as you shut it off. “...wine.”

His heart skips. Don’t overthink it, he reminds himself. “Red or white?”

“Take your pick,” you shrug nonchalantly. 

Luca reaches up to see the bottles of wine you have in store, and you try not to pay too much attention as his shirt rides up around the waist—or the sleeve, showing off the remnants of Alfie’s crayon work over his inks… you’re just two co-parents hanging out. It’s normal, right?

“What about the Malbec?” he eventually chooses, taking out the bottle.

He’s always loved Malbec—this particular brand of Malbec you brought him when he first invited you for dinner on your third date.

Don’t overthink it, you remind yourself. “Yeah, sure.”

You pick up two wine glasses and set them down on the dining table, shuffling into the corner bench. Luca settles into the other bench, directly against the kitchen counter, pouring the wine onto both glasses.

“How many bedtime stories did Alfie manage to get out of you?” you pipe up, swirling the purplish liquid around.

“Just one…” he sips on his wine thoughtfully. “Although he made me read it three times.”

You smile, bemused. “Which one was it?”

“‘The Bear Who Did.’”

“Ah, yeah. He’s been into that one lately,” you muse. “But… for what it’s worth, I’m glad he asked you to tuck him in tonight.”

The two of you exchange a soft look. A ceasefire. A truce, at least when it comes to your son. Because you really do want Luca to have a good relationship with Alfie.

“Me too.”

“And I’m sorry you had to… make do with spending the day with Alfie here.”

He shakes his head softly. “Nah, don’t be. I had a good time. It’s nice to just hang out… at home.”

At home, the words echo in your head.

With you, they echo in his, loud and unsaid.

“So, uh… how have you been?”

“Ah, you know how it is. Work is kicking my ass—my current client’s only two blocks away, but the house is a total fixer-upper, and Alfie’s… Alfie.” You don’t want to backtalk your own son, although you both know how trying he can be sometimes. “But it’s all good. My mom helps out with Alfie, and Jess insists that I go out and live a little every now and again.”

“And do you? Live a little?”

“I mean, within reason. I can’t go clubbing ‘til 4am anymore. I think I’m getting old…” you stretch your arms, feeling that soreness just from your daily activities.

Luca grins, raising his glass. “I hear you. I don’t even really go out anymore.”

“Seriously?” 

“Mm-hm.”

You make an incredulous face. It would make sense for you not to go out much, with Alfie and everything. But he was alone, abroad… “Why, though?”

He just shrugs lightly. “I’m working. Whenever I’m off, I mostly just… eat or sleep.”

“I somehow find that hard to believe.” You take a dubious sip. You both know how much Luca enjoys grabbing a cheeky pint. He’s British; it’s in his blood, goddammit.

“Oh come on…”

“You don’t even go out drinking or whatever? Meet people?”

His gaze flashes towards you almost playfully. “Do you?”

Your face falls, not expecting to be caught so off-guard with such an innocent question. And upon seeing that, his face falls. Shit. And with that, the air between you shifts so dramatically.

Stupidly, you still try to save the conversation. “Of course my friends and I go out—”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” His voice darkens, his blue eyes piercing through you. 

This conversation is a long time coming. It’s a natural progression of your relationship—or the lack thereof. You separate, you get divorced, and eventually you move on. Two years is a more than acceptable time to start dating again. And still, you phrase out your next words very carefully.

“I’ve been on dates here and there…”

Luca sucks in a slow, calculated breath. “Does Alfie know?”

You shake your head. “It’s nothing serious so far.”

He’s not sure what’s worse, the fact that it’s nothing serious, or that you’re holding out for something serious in the future.

“Look, we both know this is happening sooner or later…”

“I know,” he quickly recovers—or as much as he can recover. He just stares down the stem of his glass.  “It just… It’s a lot to take in, that’s all.”

“I understand.” The wine feels like gravel down your throat, and the words coming out of your mouth feel like throwing up a boulder.

“Because I do miss you.”

Your eyes immediately dart over to his, as if you’re not sure you heard it right. “Luca…”

“I miss you everyday. I miss us. I miss everything we used to have.”

Your heart catches—no, stops altogether at his admission. “Luca, we can’t do this anymo—”

He swallows thickly, his jaw setting as he braces himself. “I’ve been thinking about it everyday—the whole time I’m away, and frankly, I’m kicking myself over not telling you this sooner.”

“That’s probably just the homesickness talking.” You turn away. This can’t be possible. This can’t be happening. What the fuck?! “It got you reminiscing about the good old days. Give it time, you’ll come around.” You try to maintain a neutral, distant, cold approach to this, although the crack in your voice betrays you.

“No. That’s not it.”

“Then what the fuck is it?”

Your words cut through the quiet apartment like a flash bang. Luca stops dead in his tracks in his shock, and honestly, so do you. Awful silence hushes over the room, and both of you are almost too afraid to break it. Neither of you even dare to move.

After what seems like forever, Luca moves first. A tear escapes his eye, and he wipes it away with his knuckle hurriedly. “Noma should’ve been a dream. And it is, in a way. I guess.” He stares blankly ahead, his life in Copenhagen replaying in his head like it’s on fast-forward, and the playback seems to just highlight how lonely he is there. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m utterly miserable there. I get up and go to work and I just feel empty. Because what’s the point? You and Alfie are way over here, being a family while I’m… doing what?” He wants to tear his hair out, because this is everything he’s dreamed of, and yet he is living the stuff of nightmares. “It makes no fucking sense.”

It makes even less sense to you. You can’t even begin to process this tangled mess in your head. “Luca… we are almost officially divorced. You’re telling me this now? When everything is—”

“I thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought I should just… let you cut your losses and—”

“The best for me? How the fuck did you think giving up was the best way forward for me?” The thought of it burns your eyes with angry tears. They melt, and you don’t do a thing to stop it from running down your face. “You didn’t think to fight for us while you still could?”

Luca’s heart aches to see that. He is dying to reach out and wipe them away, but he can’t. His voice is quiet and small and almost childlike. “I tried. You were just so… sure about the divorce. You had it all figured out. And I… I thought you had no room for me anymore.”

“I had to keep it together. I had to figure it out—for Alfie’s sake. For mine.” You stare at your little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “I don’t see the point in being vulnerable with you anymore when you’re already set on leaving.”

The words have run out. The whirlwind of emotions has passed. What he feels and what he wants is now very clear.

“I shouldn’t have left.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.” You wished he didn’t. Everyday for the last two years. And everyday you set yourself up for disappointment because, the truth of the matter is, he did leave. So you stop wishing. “Because I don’t know how to come back from this. I really don’t.”

Nothing that comes out of your mouth is unexpected. But it doesn’t hurt any less to hear it from the horse’s mouth. “It’s just… seeing you guys today… We were a family again. And I would do anything for us to be a family again. Please.”

You sigh heavily. “What else is there to do, Luca…?”

“We can, I don’t know, figure something out, go to couples counseling—”

You groan in frustration, Jesus Christ not this again, wanting to tear your hair out when— CRASH! You accidentally knock over your wine glass and it shatters as it hits the floor. “Shit…”

“Mommy?” Alfie calls you from inside his room, sleepy but alert.

The two of you freeze just before you can move out of your seat. Afraid the slightest of noises would rattle your son.

“Yes, bubbie?” you try to sound bright and normal. Maybe if you can convince him that everything’s fine, he won’t come running in panic. 

“What was that?”

“I just knocked over a glass, kiddo, everything’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

You and Luca wait a few seconds with bated breath. One, two, three… ten seconds go by, and there’s no movement in the bedroom.

The coast is clear.

You scramble down to pick up the shards of glass. The spilled wine looks like blood in the dim light of the room. It’s a painful reminder of the broken pieces of your former life, the casualties. He quickly follows suit, as if struggling to put it all back together. The irony is not lost on either of you, you’re sure of that.

“It’s fine, Luca. I got it, I—” a sharp piece of glass accidentally cuts your palm as you pick it up in hurry. “Fuck!”

“You okay?” He takes your hand as quick as lightning, wanting to inspect the wound, but you snatch it away.

“I’m fine.” You get up on your feet, teetering over to the sink, away from the crime scene, careful not to step on any piece of glass.

Yet he still follows you, walking over to where you’re standing now. “Come on. Let me just take a look.” He reaches out to your wrist, running little circles with his thumb to ease your grasp.

“It’s not a big deal…” you let him look anyway, you figure it’s easier to just let him do his thing than to argue your way out of it. 

His calluses are brittle against your palm, but he handles you with the gentlest touch. The wound is not too big or too deep, but the sight of blood marring your palm makes his heart drop. There’s no visible piece stuck to it, that’s a good sign, he thinks. He rips off some paper towel and wets it on the sink, and softly dab at the gash, cleaning the wound and wiping the blood off.

You grit your teeth, not wanting to show any sign of pain although it stings. “It’s just a little cut…” your tone bears less and less conviction, as if you have no energy left to argue with him on such a small matter.

There’s a very particular way his eyebrows arch when he’s deep in thought. The left one always sits slightly higher than the right. Blue eyes fixed on the object of his focus. A minute gesture behind the chaos in his head. “You need a Band-Aid,” he points out. 

“It’s in the—”

Luca is already opening the drawer next to the stove, taking out a packet of a Star Wars-themed Band-Aid. He still remembers where everything is, and you can’t tell whether the ache in your chest is a good or bad thing.

He puts the Band-Aid on your cut, then takes your hand close to kiss it better, like he used to do.

“Um.” You freeze in your tracks, taken aback. And it seems he’s just as equally as taken aback by his own action. He is flushed with embarrassment, and you feel your face growing hot as well.

He’s the first to break the awkward silence, quiet and tentative. “I’ll clean up the mess. You just hang tight.”

It seems so mundane, sweeping broken glass and cleaning the floor. His body registers it as a simple muscle memory—he must’ve cleaned up messes on this very spot a million times. But his heart is heavy with the burden of your history, and all the pain that comes with your separation. He might not be able to put the pieces back together, but maybe he can clean up the mess and make it nice again for you.

And all the while, you’re stuck to the kitchen counter, watching him so effortlessly reacquainted with his former home. It’s as if he never left. For a confusing moment, it feels like home again. How did you manage without this view, this presence for so long?

Luca puts away the debris in the trash, hidden away in another kitchen drawer next to you, and hovers in front of you, as if wanting to reach out and touch you… but too afraid you’ll push him away.

“Does it still hurt?”

You can’t tear your eyes off of his. The little cut on your hand is but a dull ache now, but the insides of your chest feels like it’s been mangled beyond repair. You burst into tears, sobs ripping through the seams.

His arms wrap around you, keeping your tattered pieces together. Your face is buried in his chest, surrounded by soft cotton and earthy perfume, and your first thought is you can’t remember the last time you were in his arms like this. You rake your mind through all the memories, all the times you hugged each other hello and goodbye and all the times in between, and you can’t remember the last time you stopped, why would you stop—

“My love…” Luca’s voice soothes you, so quietly murmured against your forehead with a soft kiss, yet rings so clear in your ears. He cups your face with both hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “It’s okay... I got you.”

The palm of his hand grazes your lips, and you kiss it the way he kisses your Band-Aid earlier. You have no energy left to fight whatever is going on inside you. You don’t understand the nagging urge to be away from him, when being close to him feels this good. You miss his touch and his voice and his face, and you’re so overwhelmed with longing that you close the distance between your lips and his.

Luca gasps when you kiss him—and it feels like the first breath he’s drawn in two years. Your lips are just as he remembers, just as warm and inviting and familiar, and he relishes coming home to them tonight. He didn’t think he would be so lucky ever again, but now you’re here, kissing life back into him again.

Against your better judgment, you stumble into the bedroom, careful to make as little sound as possible as you tread down the hallway. Still tangled in each other. Refusing to let go even for a second. His five o’clock shadow scratches your skin, following the trail of his lips down your neck.

You push him into bed and climb on top of him without a single thought. You need him close, closer than the past two years, closer than now, and your clothes feel like they’re in the way. Of his hands, of his mouth, of his warmth…

You tear your dress off and throw it away, and he stops in his tracks. He has every part of you memorized, every curve and every ridge, every notch of your stretch marks, every inch of your C-section scar from Alfie’s birth… and yet he’s looking at you for the first time all over again.

“Beautiful…” it escapes his mouth just like that, and you kiss him senseless in return. You worry that if you stop, the moment will pass and this whole thing turns out to be just an illusion.

Or worse, a mistake.

You tug his t-shirt over his head, trying not to linger on his broad chest too long. He gets the idea—he is dying to say something, but doesn’t—and just unclasps your bra in response. He keeps his mouth busy by kissing and licking and sucking your newly exposed breasts.

It’s not that you haven’t been touched like this in a while; it’s just that you haven’t been touched by him like this for so long.. “Luca…”

He never thought he’d hear that again. His name in a wanton sigh, uttered by the lost love of his life. He’s not one to waste his chance. “It’s okay. I got you, my love. I got you.”

Because for the first time in a long time, it’s true. He’s got you. He’s got your body underneath him, your nipple in his mouth, your sweet sex in his hand.

God.

You’re so soft, so warm, so wet against his fingers. The little stuttered moan you let out sounds absolutely heavenly. He remembers exactly the last time he was here.

Christmas Eve, two years ago. 

Things had been tense long before that, but Luca was home and able to spend some time with his wife and kid at last. You didn’t seem all that chuffed having him around—whether he was here or not brought out that “neutral look of displeasure” from you these days— but at least you didn’t pull away when he rested his head on your shoulder as the three of you watched Jurassic Park (Alfie’s all-time favorite). Didn’t roll your eyes and turn away when he kissed you and wished you happy Christmas before bed.

And he wanted so desperately for you to openly want him again.

So he tentatively deepened the kiss and reiterated his love for you in every inch of your body that he could get his hands on. Trying to convince you that he was still here. Trying to convince himself that with every orgasm he pried out of you, that you still wanted him there.

But you just… laid there and watched. Hands locked in on the sheets, not even touching him. Motionless as he went through the motions of his thrusts. Numb as he touched and kissed and fucked you the way you used to like. He was fighting a losing battle. He might as well have been making love to a ghost. 

“Luca…” Your breathless voice snaps him out of his own intrusive thoughts, more clear and alive and real than any memory of you posing no desire for him.

“I— yeah, sorry. I just…” he shakes off his own thoughts.

“Hurry up, come on…” you needily thrust yourself into his hand.

“You sure?”

No, and neither does he. But at this point, you’re much too stubborn about your decision in the divorce and much too prideful to admit that you want him back and maybe just a tad too eager to make a mistake with him.

So you nod your head yes, and with a searing kiss, he fingerfucks you the way you needed him to. 

“Oh, God… fuck…” you sigh under the undoing of his fingers. It’s like he never forgot how to work your body. His fingers play a pattern on your clit that makes you sing. And when one slides into you, crooking and curling against your silky heat…

“Luca, I— now.”

He unlatches his mouth from your nipple almost begrudgingly, as if too sweet to part with you. “Not yet, baby. We can’t…”

“What, why?”

“Because…” he nips at the smooth flesh of your chest thoughtfully. How can he explain it to you in a way that makes sense? “I want…” to take as much time with you as possible, he adds another finger inside you deliciously slow. “I need…” to feel you in every way first, he chants in his head as he kisses you through your orgasm.

Your resolve is slipping, but the craving is as ravenous as ever. You try to squirm in protest anyway. “But…”

“Please.” His lips press against your forehead, eyes squeezed shut. “I got you, okay?”

His blue eyes meet yours, as familiar as the sky you’ve walked under your whole life. As sure as day. And before you realize it, you find yourself nodding along.

Watching him slither further down your body. Mouth paving the way between the valleys of your breasts, up the diamond-hard tops of your nipples.

Down your torso.

Between your nether lips.

You don’t remember the last time you did this either. Memories of attempts to rekindle the romance flash before your eyes. The nights that he climbed into bed late at night after work, still smelling like chocolate or mint or whatever ingredient he was working with that day. Waking you up with the parting of your legs and hushed kisses saying, “Missed you so much, baby…”

“Right there. Yes…” you pant as he laps you up where you’re dripping, catching every drop and coaxing more at the same time.

His eyes close, and he swallows back a needy groan. “Come for me, baby.”

The words shoot right into your core, and you’re suddenly overcome with the waves of pleasure running through you, grinding your hips into his mouth shamelessly. Has he always been so greedy in the way he ate you out?

Your head is spinning with need and you hope the broken words you string up are comprehensible enough for him. “Luca, come on, I can’t—”

“No, please—” he seems to understand just fine, but still he shakes his head and buries his face deeper into you.

“Luca…”

“Wait, just let me—”

So insistent. So stubborn. So… needy. You grasp a fistful of hair on the back of his head. Both heaving, you breathe out,

“Please.” 

The word stops him in his tracks. But it’s not so much the word as it is the gravity that comes with it. Whatever the two of you are doing, whatever you’re feeling is beyond words at this point.

It’s just you and him and this need.

And as much as he wants—needs— to satisfy his hunger, there’s just no way of stopping you anymore. Truth be told, he’s not even sure why he’s been stalling you in the first place. Not when you’re so eager to tug his clothes off and touch him absolutely everywhere. To stroke him, and taste him…

“No, baby.” He stops you just before you slither down his body, settling you back on the bed and caging you underneath him.

You throw him a look, indignant. If he’s gonna hold it off some more, you swear to God—

“No, I…” he kisses you hard, hoping you’ll get that he wants you too. More than anything. And that he’ll give you what you want. Hell, he would give you anything if he could come back to this again for the rest of his life. “Just trust me, okay?”

You marvel at the sight before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With dark blond locks tousled in passion and eyes lidded from lust and longing, and it makes your heart stop because… there it is.

Love.

As much as you shut it out and as much as you avoid it, love is permanently etched to his actions. Tattooed onto the smallest of things. In the way he kisses your temple softly, and the way he caresses your skin as he aligns himself against you, and the way he holds you as he pushes in…

“Luca…” you gasp sharply.

He stops halfway into you, his eyes searching your face with compassion. “You okay?”

You’re aching and craving the stretch of him all at once, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, so you ultimately nod your head. I’m okay. 

And he knows that deep down. He feels the same. Soothed and tormented by your very presence, although he can’t help but ask, “Do you want me to stop?” Please don’t ask me to stop…

You shake your head quickly. Neither of you would ever dream of it. You would take everything—the weight and the sting of it all— and he would leave everything behind just to have this again.

Your hips colliding again in a frenzy of a rhythm you haven’t played in so long—still remembering every beat like it’s your own pulse. Your walls gripping him like you wouldn’t let him go.

He shudders a little. “I’m gonna come if you keep doing that…”

“I don’t care,” you murmur into his neck with a kiss, “Come.”

“What…?” He can’t have heard that right… right?

“I want you to.”

“Jesus…” he breathes out. “I wanna make this last, baby—”

You shake your head again and wrap your legs around him almost demandingly. “I want you to come inside me and fill me the fuck up… want you dripping down my legs… please…”

“Fuck!” The images flash before his eyes faster than he can stop his hands from grabbing you by the hips, slamming himself into you. 

Nor can he stop himself from coming deep inside you.

There’s no way to describe the way he feels at that moment. The way tension peaks and snaps into release. How it brings you into your climax as well. Your lips must be swollen from the assault of your own teeth as you hold back the filthy noises coming out of you. You don’t mind the building ache in your thigh muscles, because as soon as that warmth fills you up, your body is overcome by waves of bliss.

“Fuck…” he flops back onto his side of the bed—the right side—and quickly gathers you in his chest. It’s an effortless little maneuver, making sense at last as you lay half on top of him.

Your hand finds his—more puzzle pieces coming together as he fills the spaces between your fingers. You bring it to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Surprised to find the gold wedding band still adorning his ring finger.

***

9:56 PM

“Was that really your first time since we… you know?” Your murmured question rings loud in the absence of the rain. The storm has finally passed, but neither of you move—neither even dare to bring it up— afraid to ruin the moment. 

“It was.”

“Not even in a casual, ‘no strings attached’ kind of situation?”

“No.” He looks almost embarrassed to admit it, but there is no hesitation in his answer.

“Wow…” your heart sinks. Is it possible to feel good and bad at the same time?

Luca pauses for a moment. You can see the conflict brewing in his head. “Did you?”

You don’t have to answer. The sheer silence you take is an answer enough.

The confirmation feels like shit, but he tries to stay neutral. His thumb stills on the back of your hand. “Can I ask how many?”

“Gosh, does that even matter?” You sigh. There’s another argument coming—you can feel it.

“No, I just… I wanna know.”

“You don’t really wanna know.”

“Is it a lot?”

“I mean…”

“How many?” 

You take in a sharp breath. There’s no way out of this now. If the truth is what he wants, then the truth is what he shall get. “Twelve.”

He tenses up next to you. The whole world stops, and you can’t help but think, it’s over. There is no way this marriage is salvageable now. “What…?”

“I know that it’s a big number, and I know you might be upset—”

“That is a big number.” He doesn’t say anything about the latter part of her sentence, but it’s obvious that he’s upset, too. “I just… why?”

“I was trying to get over you.” It’s a pathetic answer, but that’s all it is to it. “I couldn’t sleep in this bed for months. I just couldn’t. Slept on the guest bed instead,” you motion at the next room, “and then one day, I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s like a switch flipped inside my brain, and I needed to—”

“What?”

“I needed to… overwrite the memories of you,” you admit feebly. “On this bed. On my body.”

Knife, meet heart. He’s not sure what answer he was expecting, but whatever it was, this hurts so much more. “And did it work?”

“Up to a point…” you pause, a sad smile in realization. “It’s funny. I keep getting bits and pieces of you somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

You close your eyes, your memories flashing, reminding you that every single time reminds you of Luca one way or another. “It’s… somebody’s perfume, or the timbre of their voice, or the way they hold my hand…”

“And you see me in them?” 

“Every single one.”

“Jesus…” Luca finds himself relieved and choked up at the same time. He doesn’t want you to ever get rid of your memories of him, but at the same time, it’s painful to hear that you tried anyway.

And you tried very hard.

“I’m sorry.”

He hums, and you realize… he hasn’t let go of your hand. Not once. Not even after your little confession. It makes the argument easier, knowing he’s there. It’ll be easier to part with him again after tonight, you hope, knowing you both did your best to understand. Why you needed to be apart. Why you did the things you did.

The armor has been shed, and the two of you are now naked, in every sense of the word.

Luca turns to look at you, studying your profile. He remembers the last time he was here.

He had just told you about Denmark. Stupid of him to feel excited, to tell you he’d just been offered his dream job, to ask you and Alfie to move someplace new with him, because it turned into a fight.

Worse than a fight; it was a death sentence.

You turned away and stared at the ceiling, and told him you couldn’t do this anymore.

And in some fucked up way, Luca feels as if he’d been brought back in time, and this is his one chance to make it right. So he asks you,

“Do you still love me?” 

You breathe out, heart clenching because in spite of yourself, “I do.”

“Do you want us to try again?”

“Luca…” you sigh heavily, “How would that even work? Alfie and I are here, and you have Noma–”

“No more Noma. I’m giving that up.” The answer is straightforward, and he surprises himself over how easily it rolls off of his tongue. How right.

“What? You wouldn’t…” Your face falls as you turn to him.

“I would. And I am,” he says firmly. “Look, I’ve thought about this for months now. I can’t do Noma anymore, I need to be home.” His gaze softens, and you feel the pattern running on the back of your hand again.

Slow and steady and certain.

The tear rolls off the corner of your eye and onto the pillow with the tiniest drop. “I wanted you to come home…”

“Then let me come home. Please?”

“I want to. I just…” you reach out and cup his face tentatively. “I just want to make sure that we’re not doing anything rash.”

His eyes light up. The only thing that matters is that you want him home, too. It takes him everything to let his logical part of the brain take control. “How about this, then?” Luca pauses thoughtfully. “We’ll take a minute. For me to sort out everything at Noma, find a replacement… and for us to figure out if this is really what we wanna do.

“If it starts to feel like a bad idea, maybe we should rethink it. But if it feels good… maybe we can give it another shot.

“And in the meantime, we’ll talk. We’ll FaceTime and… figure out what the hell to say to our lawyers.”

That makes you grimace. You were supposed to have another meeting with your divorce lawyers. Tomorrow is going to be awkward. But awkward beats saying goodbye to the man you’ve always loved, right? It’s a small price to pay.

“What do you say, baby?” He looks at you with all the hope that he has. “Just give me a minute to get everything sorted and then I’ll come home.”

You smile tearfully. “A minute is not enough… how about a month, hm?”

“Yeah, that makes more sense, actually.” He chuckles sheepishly. “A month. I can do that.”

“Good.” You sidle up to him and kiss him where his heart is. You’re willing to settle for having him just for the night, but you can’t wait until he comes home to you for good.

You hope he will.

[pantherxrogers]

Anything you want - Luca x Reader One-Shot (18+ ONLY)

Content warnings: SMUT (18+ only), fingering, explicit language, dirty talk, slight choking (but not really)

Synopsis: Relationships are all about balance right? Luca lends the reader a hand after a rough day at work.

A/N: I can't stay away from my favorite baker for long 🤪 This was super fun for me to write, so I hope y'all enjoy it! My requests are wide open <3

WHY IS IT SO HARD TO FIND LUCA GIFS 🤒

"That poor pasta," Luca teases, watching the way you roughly knead the dough. It's his attempt at easing the tension in your shoulders, but he's met with a half-hearted sigh.

Normally, when you guys cook dinner together, the conversation flows and a warm energy fills the air. Tonight, he's lucky if he gets two words out of you.

"Sorry, it's almost ready for resting," you murmur, not catching onto his attempted joke.

He shifts around the large, marble island in your shared kitchen to stand beside you. Shoulder to shoulder, he watches the way your hands angrily work the dough, like a punishment. Reaching down to the lower cabinets, he grabs a large bowl, easing the dough out of your hands.

"Well, we should give it a half hour before you give it another beating," he jokes, wanting to see the light in your eyes again. He knows you had a rough work day, but you brush him off when he asks for details.

He figured your favorite meal might ease your stress, but he has another trick up his sleeve anyway. He goes to place the pasta in the fridge, your eyes following his path.

The worn, blue t-shirt, stretches across his muscular frame, a welcome contrast to his tanned skin. His loose pajama bottoms hang low on his hips, giving you a glimpse of his defined v-line as he turns to make his way towards you.

When you're in arm's reach, he loops an arm around your waist pulling you in close. His blue eyes drop to the dip in your tank top, briefly distracted by the way your chest presses against his own.

Before he can speak, you hungrily press your lips against his own, wanting to get lost in his affection. The surprise catches him off guard for a moment, before he's matching your actions. Your tongue brushes against his own, as your hands rake through his golden hair. Your nipples poke against his chest, causing the blood to rush towards his cock, but he can't ignore the elephant in the room.

"Woah, woah, woah," he gasps, pulling away to read your expression. Your full lips are parted when you stare back with wide eyes.

You attempt to pull away, suddenly feeling vulnerable, not used to your boyfriend denying you. "S-sorry", you stutter, feeling embarrassed by your actions.

"It's okay, babe, really," he asserts, reassuring you in the way pulls you back into him. "I just want to know what's bothering you. I hate to see you upset," he confesses, stroking your lower back beneath your tank.

The frustration builds again, and you know you shouldn't take it out on your boyfriend, but he's only making you feel worse.

"I don't want to talk about it right now, okay?" you snap back at him, pulling out of his embrace. You all but stomp away, finding a nonexistent flaw in the counter tops to pick at.

Suddenly, you're enveloped by warmth as Luca hugs you from behind, pinning you between his firm body and the oversized island. It's meant to be a comforting embrace, and it is, but you're slightly distracted by his hardness pressing against you.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, chin resting atop your head, "I don't mean to push you to talk when you aren't ready," he soothes, gently swaying your bodies side to side.

"It's okay. I'm sorry I snapped at you like that," you respond. He dips his head to press apologetic kisses into your neck. The sensation causes a tingle in your lower tummy and goosebumps spread along your skin.

"It's just stupid work stuff. I'd rather focus on something else," you sigh as his hands ghost over your hips. You gently push back against him, nuzzling into his strong chest.

You're met with the subtle grind of his hips against your backside. Both of your pajama bottoms suddenly feel like a barrier between the two of you. You're feeling warm all over, needing more of whatever your lover has to offer.

"Anything you want," he places a kiss behind your ear, "it's yours". You attempt to turn around in his arms, but a gentle squeeze of your hips keeps you trapped in place. His movements are more intentional now, his slow grind making your panties dampen.

"Anything?" you huff out, pushing back to meet the growing bulge that's pressing against your ass. He murmurs a confirmation, sliding his hands up to your breasts, toying with your nipples through your thin top.

"Do you want my hands here?" his voice rumbles in your ear, rough hands massaging your boobs. He cradles the flesh, before using his thumbs to bring both nipples to a peak.

A soft moan eases out of your lips as he moves to tease you under your shirt, drawing circles around your senstive nipples. He dips his head down to suck on the side of your neck, causing that warm shiver to roll down your spine. Your body further relaxes against his own, lulling your head back.

"Answer me, sweet girl," he chides, the commanding tone in his voice making you even wetter.

"N-no, not there," you gasp out, just as he softly tugs at your nipples.

"No?" he playfully mocks, making his way towards the band of your pants. Goosebumps follow the path of his hands, anticipation building in your stomach. You can't help the moan that slips out when he dips his hand into your pants, stroking you over your panties.

"Oh, maybe you wanted me here," he chuckles, using his middle and index fingers to tease the outside of your pussy.

"S-shit, yes," you huff, hips messily grind upwards, needing more friction. You reach out to grab the island, steadying yourself.

He pulls you back towards him, needing to feel your body against his own. He uses one hand to toy with your nipple again, while the other finally dips into your panties.

"Fuck, I should've known my sweet girl needed me to rub her little pussy, hmm?" he coos, dipping into the wetness at your entrance. He drags his fingers upwards to toy with your nub.

You're hot all over, unable to focus on anything that isn't Luca. The hard length of him pressing into your ass, like he can't wait to get inside of you. The way his rough hand pinches and massages your breast, adding to your pleasure. The borderline overwhelming feeling of his fingers drawing slow circles on your clit, making your eyes roll back.

"M-more, Luca please," you beg, grinding your clit against his calloused fingers. He presses a hot, opened-mouth kiss to your neck that makes you whine out.

"I know, baby, I'm going to give it to you," he soothes.

His fingers are firm against your clit now, the pressure building in the pit of your tummy. He uses one hand to lift your top over your boobs, the cold air making your nipples tighten, as you clench around nothing.

"Fuck, look at those pretty tits," he groans out, earning a louder moan from you, as he sucks on the sensitive area of your neck. You can feel the way his eyes are locked on your boobs, like he's in a trance, and it makes you feel even sexier.

He strokes you up and down, messily spreading your wetness around, toying with your entrance. He chuckles when you whine, unable to take any more teasing.

"Ugh, shit," you sigh, finally feeling the stretch of his finger inside you. He's using a thumb on your clit now, slowly stretching you open with his pointer finger.

"Do you like that, darling?" His deep voice voice goes straight to your core, his accent thickened by arousal.

"Y-yes, I love it." Your high pitched whine makes him even harder, bucking his hips into the plush of your ass.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans, the huffs you're letting out making it harder for him to focus. You cry out, his filthy words pushing you towards the edge.

Both of you are panting now, but Luca's determined to keep his attention focused on you. He eases another finger into your entrance, just as your walls flutter around the first.

"You like that? Like the way I'm stretching you out?" You cave at his words, leaking wetness into his wide palm. Your walls start to clench around him, a telltale sign of your incoming orgasm.

"Yes, shit, I'm getting close," you slur, only able to focus on the smooth glide of Luca's fingers and the steady pressure against your aching clit.

"Come whenever you want to, baby, you deserve it." The unexpected softness in his voice makes you clench around his fingers, the waves of your orgasm coming in.

Luca speeds up, drawing tight circles on your bud, making it hard to hold off your orgasm. As you turn your head to the side, you're met with a heated kiss. His tongue snakes into your mouth, stroking against your own. He uses his other hand to cradle your neck, applying a gentle pressure there, knowing it'll send you over the edge.

You're dizzy with lust when the cord snaps, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. Luca swallows your moans, like he can't get enough, his mouth delving into yours. Both of you messily work your tongue against the others. Your soft whimpers are making him feel lightheaded.

Your orgasm feels like it's lasting forever, Luca slowly fucking you with his fingers to maximize your pleasure. He eases off of your clit, not wanting to overstimulate you.

By the time you've come down from your high your head rests against his chest, panting from your orgasm.

"Well, fuck," you giggle out, feeling lighter than you have all day. The rumble of Luca's chest behind you only making you laugh harder. He feels the relief all over his body, finally seeing that smile back on your face. Well, maybe not all over.

You're spinning around in his grip, reaching for his waistband before his mind can catch up.

"Maybe we'll just order in tonight," is the last thing he hears before he's closing his eyes, relishing in the feeling of your hand stroking his length.

..................................................................

Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added/removed):

@nolita-fairytale @wakandamama @wakandama2 @blowmymbackout @douceurrrr @mercang @eddiemunsonreader @cryobabyy @superhoeva @kdoxkeic @notmocca @live-love-be-unique

[superhoeva]

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

❧ 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ⇁ 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍 “𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐘” 𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐙𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎 𝐱 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐱 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐒

❛ Copenhagen, Denmark. The home of a young Carmen, Luca, and Reader as they help each other navigate through a young adulthood of preservation, unresolved trauma, and unexpected love. ❜

❧ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 ⇁ 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎 "𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐄" 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐱 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

❛ Sexologist Francisco Morales has been given the green light to lead a scientific, seven-week study of the female orgasm and its effect on the body. You have agreed to be his test subject. ❜

❧ 𝐀𝐔: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐑 ⇁ 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍 "𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐘" 𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐙𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎 𝐗 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊!𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

❛ The life of Bunny and her boyfriend Bear. ❜

⋆ hair - carmen helps bunny with her hair.

⋆ couch - carmen comes home to find bunny on his couch.

⋆ gentleman - carmen shows off his manners.

𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬/𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐈: 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 ⇁ crying | first kiss | ladder | nickname | first sight

𝐈𝐈: 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 ⇁ hot girl bunny | how long have they been together? | hand creams | carmen's hot gf | nervous!carmen | bunny and richie | carmen's tattoos | bunny's favorite spot | bunny's tattoos | birthaversary | favorite things | grizzly bear | why the tears? | nurse!carmen | come home pt. 1 | sick!bunny | easter eggs | sidewalk rule | punch | pretty boy | sleepy!bunny | tickets | smoking | hobbyist!bunny | 5 in 1 | short circuit

𝐈𝐈𝐈: 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ⇁ coming soon!

𝐈𝐕: 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐄 ⇁ coming soon!

𝐕: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 ⇁ coming soon!

⋆ 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐧 "𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲" 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨

deep (+18) - carmen going down on you.

v-lines (+18) - you show carmen a little appreciation.

dance (+18) - you and carmen try and few new things.

no work, all play (+18) - carmen distracts you from work.

roomate!carmen (pt. 1) - life with carmen berzatto as your roomate.

after work (+18) - you help carmen after hard day at the bear

phone one in (+18) - carmen calls you with a throbbing dilemma.

frankenstein's bride - carmen loves your halloween costume.

⋆ 𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 "𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞" 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭

on his six (+18) - logan can't get enough of the xavier's school for gifted youngsters' newest hire–you.

fridays (+18) - your fuck buddy makes his weekly visit.

busy signal (+18) - a phone call interrupts a relaxing logan.

rooftops - logan can't live without you.

⋆ 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐟!𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭

older bf!logan sees how many times he can make you come

older bf!logan finds your vibrator

older bf!logan manhandling you

going down on (mean) older bf!logan

older bf!logan squeezing your soft parts

older bf!logan letting you take the lead

wearing a sundress around older bf!logan

older bf!logan being rough with you

older bf!logan helping you de-stress

older bf!logan walks in on you touching yourself

prone bone with older bf!logan

older bf!logan saying "fuck, i missed you"

older bf!logan being handsy

oiled massages with older bf!logan

older bf!logan fucking you right after a mission

you and older bf!logan welcome a new family member

you and older bf!logan have diner with your parents

⋆ 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫!𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭

you make a deal with bouncer!logan

you bring bouncer!logan dinner at work

⋆ 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 "𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧" 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞

sleep tight, love (+18) - john helps you fall asleep.

⋆ 𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐞 "𝐠𝐚𝐳" 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤

suck (+18) - kyle asks a favor.

⋆ 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 "𝐬𝐨𝐚𝐩" 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐡

making out (+18; feat. simon "ghost" riley)

moping (+18); feat. the 141)

⋆ 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 "𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭" 𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲

pillow (+18) - simon catches you in the act.

making out (+18; feat. johnny "soap" mactavish) - johnny likes to hog.

movie star (2) (3) - you're simon's movie star.

⋆ 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟒𝟏 (𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐮)

causal dominance - the gang tries to figure out dinner.

nails - the gang gets their nails done.

more coming soon! <3

[fastboatsmojito]

Bed Chem - Chef Luca x reader

| A/N; Apologies for taking longer than usual - the end of August got a little weird but we move !Apparently not a fan of writing long date scenes LMAO so this is mostly smut . With a dash of plot xoxo dry humping WILL save the world btw

| WC; 1k ish

| CW; 18+ smut BTC !!! Dry humping, nasty desperate freaks in general, I think that’s really all there is to it . No use of y/n and mostly non physically descript reader as per usual, enjoy <3

From this Req <33

——

Your date was incredible. The food was amazing, you both talked about your passions, where you grew up, everything you care about, it was perfect. After, he drove you back home and walked you up to your apartment.

“That was really nice, Luca. Thank you.”

“I think I should be the one thanking you. That was easily the most fun I’ve had since I got here and I love Chicago.”

Your face was warm as you took your key out of your bag, trying to ignore how nervous you felt under his gaze.

“Do you um,” You started, fumbling hands unlocking the door “wanna come in?”

You both paused for a second as the doorknob clicked open, eyes running over his expression as you anxiously awaited his response. “I’d like that.”

———

“So you already saw it a bit earlier but now you get the official tour.” He laughed softly at you throwing your arms out as you spoke.

“Honored.”

Once he had been introduced to all of your favorite plants and trinkets, sparing no detail, you were back in the living room. Half-full glasses of wine you ended up with before the tour was fully over in your hands as you sat together on the couch.

“You’ve really made this place your own.” He said, moving one of his arms to rest on the couch behind you.

“You basically just got an inside look at my brain, I hope you enjoyed.” You laughed softly before your eyes started drifting to the sight you’ve been avoiding all night - the glass that looked oh so small in his hand, getting lost in thoughts about what they might feel like on your neck, on your back, on your thighs, on your -

“You okay?” He questioned, your thought cut short as his voice floated through your brain, his head resting in his palm as he smiled at you.

You nodded, shifting in your seat. “Yeah I’m okay it’s just, it’s getting late so-“

He sat up and put his glass down, “Should I leave?”

Your hand moved to his wrist absentmindedly to keep him from standing, quickly taking it away when he turned to look at you.

“No, no. It’s actually supposed to rain soon, I think it’d be better if you just stayed. You can sleep on the couch or- wherever you want.”

You scrambled through the words, talking as fast as the thought came before taking a sip from your glass to ease your obvious nerves.

His breath hitched at the sudden touch, “Are you sure? I can just-“

You interrupted him, getting up to take your glasses to the sink and smiling at his considerate words.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wanted you to leave, Luca. I’ll grab you some pillows and a blanket.”

You were gone before he could protest, quickly changing into your comfiest nightgown and grabbing some extra bedding from the closet. You walked back into the living room and let him get comfortable on the couch as you got him some water.

“I’ll just be in the other room if you need anything.” You muttered before moving to walk back to your room, pausing when you felt his hand on your arm followed by your name. You turned around to him standing behind you, close enough to surprise you.

“Thank you, by the way. I’ve had a really nice night as well. You’re really.. genuine. I appreciate that.”

You weren’t sure who started it, it didn’t matter, really. Your lips were suddenly on his own and his hands were moving to your waist to drag you to the couch with him.

Soft and slow, his hands stayed gripping your waist as you sat on his lap, bodies and mouths blurring into each other.

Your silky nightgown had ridden up just under your hips, bare thighs soft against the rough fabric of his pants. Your hands were all over him as you tried to pull yourself into him further. Your warm, cotton-cloth covered heat drifting just over the seam of his pants, causing a soft sigh to fall from both of your mouths into the others.

You were mindlessly dragging your hips over him as his hands moved down your thighs, the silk of your nightgown following his hands as he slowly brought them up, up, up just over your belly button before dragging them back down, down, down to your thighs. Over and over again, pulling away from your lips just before his hands moved back down again to look at you, foreheads pressed together.

“You’re incredible.” For a second you thought you’d imagined it, the soft whisper into your mouth before it was replaced with the slow caress of his tongue over yours.

The feeling of his hands was maddening.

A velvety moan fell from your mouth when he spread his legs and sat you right over his thigh. He kept the silky fabric at your waist with his hands as you tried to stay still, biting your lip while you moved your head to rest on his shoulder.

“Luca,” It was more of a whine than you meant it to be, uncomfortably wet underwear that he could probably feel through his jeans making you dizzy as his grip on your waist tightened.

One of his hands moved to the back of your head, turning his head so he could kiss your neck. “What do you want, hm?” You were squeezing his thigh roughly between your own, desperate for any form of friction. A soft moan was dragged out of you when he nipped at your pulse point.

“Tell me.”

Your brain felt like a cotton ball just trying to remember your own name was torturous, taking a moment to catch your breath before responding.

“I want- I need you, Luca.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, hand moving to caress your cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah?” You nodded into his hand as the one on your waist moved to your back, pressing into you. “You got me.”

He flexed his thigh just as you as you gave up and started grinding into him, hands grasping at his arms and shoulders to steady yourself on top of him. His hands were back on your waist, helping you keep a steady pace as he watched you intently.

“God I knew- I knew you’d be good.” Your voice was breathy, closing your eyes halfway through your words.

He was attentive, listening to the sweet sounds you made when his hands moved to all your favorite places, mapping out what you find most pleasurable.

“You think about it a lot?”

You hummed in response, smile creeping onto your face as you thought about your date. “At dinner earlier, you fixed my dress- when we were walking in. You were just being sweet but, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I really haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met.”

He groaned into the side of your neck at your confession, hands eagerly pulling you into him faster. It’s absolutely filthy how desperately you’re moving over him, humping his leg like a dog in heat. It’d be embarrassing if he wasn’t just as bad, open mouth practically drooling over your neck as your nails dug into his shoulders.

“Fuck- you’re killing me. Let me help you, you want to cum on my thigh, baby? Come here.” You were just about to protest that you were as close as you could get when he moved his hands to the waistband of the soaked fabric separating you.

——

god . I really don’t know why this took me so long to write I was just trying to make it more drawn out but I actually like it a lot better like this 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[veryberryjelly]

worlds best sous

pairing : chef luca x reader

prompt : gingerbread houses

𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲

when you asked your pastry chef boyfriend to make gingerbread houses with you, you should have expected that he would find some way to make it fancy.

the two of you went to the grocery store to buy some supplied, but where you went to the pre-packaged baked goods, luca went straight for the ingredients.

you should've known.

but you were not at all complaining as you walked down the aisles with luca's hand in yours and the basket in the other so he could pick the things he wanted off the shelf.

you ended up walking home with a grocery bag full of ingredients ready to make your own gingerbread for gingerbread houses.

when you arrived back home, you went to the bedroom to change into something cozy while luca unpacked the groceries, and the two of you switched roles when he went to change and you made tea for both of you to set the mood a little bit.

when he emerged clad in grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt you sat yourself at the kitchen counter to assist in whatever way he needed.

whenever the two of you baked together, you would sit opposite him at the counter and he would talk you through the entire process while giving you tasks to do that weren't detrimental to the bake.

today he gave you the scales and the ingredients to measure them out before he mixed them and then he pulled you around to his side to cut out the shapes you both needed for the structure of the gingerbread house.

this was where you shone.

you cut out equal squares for the base with small indents to slot the pieces together easily and support the structure.

once the dough was cut, you assisted luca in setting them onto the baking trays and sliding them into the oven.

while the biscuits baked, you began mixing icing and opening up packs of sweets and chocolates to decorate.

while you were mixing the icing, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and felt a kiss pressed onto your neck.

instead of saying anything, you put down what you were doing and wrapped your arms around his, turning your head to look up at him so you were able to press a kiss onto his temple.

" you are the best sous chef i've ever had " he said quietly, causing a smile to spread out across your lips.

" very high praise. i'm honoured " you replied with a soft laugh, capturing his lips in a kiss before the oven timer broke you both out of it.

----------

@mmoodd-jobutupaki

[thecapricunt1616]

Sunday - (Chef Luca One-Shot)

𝒮𝓃𝒾𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓉 (𝑀𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝐵𝒯𝒞!): Sunday. The one day a week that Noma is closed. The one day a week that your sweet, sunshiney boy got to stay home with you and ‘rot away in bed together all day’ as you called it which always gave him a good chuckle. But he loved these days, the relaxation and peace of waking up with you and having nothing on his plate felt like a taste of heaven every single week. This Sunday was no different. It was nearing 7 now, so you knew Luca would be up soon. Being the sweetheart you always were to him (since he of course deserved it) you padded quietly into the small kitchen of your shared house boat and clicked on the electric kettle.

♡ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It is you & Lucas favorite day of the week, Sunday, Noma is closed and you get to rot all day long in bed together <3 ♡ 𝐖/𝐂: 2.6K+ ♡ 𝐀/𝐍: Helloooooo!!! I am sorry to all those rotting away in my inbox Luca in S3 gave me insatiable brain worms im still working through forgive me!! I hope this Luca yumminess keeps you satiated while I continue working on requests! This man is a sweet fluffy golden retriever in my mind so thats how he's written! Hope you enjoy :D ♡ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐓𝐂: Fluff, Smut, Unprotected PV sex, Reader has a vagina & is referred to as 'sweet girl', No use of y/n, Size kink (Luca HAS to be hung. like theres no way he isnt.)

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

Sunday. The one day a week that Noma is closed. The one day a week that your sweet, sunshiney boy got to stay home with you and ‘rot away in bed together all day’ as you called it which always gave him a good chuckle. But he loved these days, the relaxation and peace of waking up with you and having nothing on his plate felt like a taste of heaven every single week. This Sunday was no different. It was nearing 7 now, so you knew Luca would be up soon. Being the sweetheart you always were to him (since he of course deserved it) you padded quietly into the small kitchen of your shared house boat and clicked on the electric kettle. 

You plunked a chai bag in for yourself and an English breakfast tea bag into his mug and grabbed out the cream and honey. That was something he had started ever since you’d been dating. He thought it was strange at first, since his family always put little sugar cubes in his tea but he found it gave it a much more natural tasting sweetness when you added the honey for him. You were sure to get the kettle just before it screeched and heard the sounds of Luca turning over in bed, likely in search of you from where you left him on his side all curled into himself how you often found him after he’d fallen asleep holding you. 

“Darling?” His husky voice called. 

“Coming doll, just putting things away” you explained, putting the cream back in the fridge and cinnamon and honey back in the cupboard before grabbing both steaming mugs and heading back to bed. “Morning handsome” you said and he smiled a bit. 

“Morning love, what do I do to deserve you, hm?” He took his cup, placing it on the nightstand. “I would love to extend my gratitude in a kiss, do you accept?” He asked in that silly way he always knew would make you giggle, and of course you did. 

“I love you, c’mere dork” you set your tea down on your own bedside table and he swiftly pulls you into his lap, kissing all over your face and neck in sweet short pecks. “Oh my gosh! That tickles, Luc!” You laughed, shoulders curling up to save you from his tickle attack. 

“You said you accepted so accept!” He teased, wrapping his strong arms around your middle and kissed your jaw with one dramatic final peck and a mmmuah! Before resting his forehead on your temple and giving you a sweet kunik kiss “love you” he said softly and you felt your cheeks heating, turning and resting your forehead on his. 

“I love you, I think our tea should be drinkable now” you said and he gave you one more gentle peck before leaning against the headboard. 

“Look at that, cinnamon and everything” he said and took a sip from the steaming cup, humming in satisfaction. “Thank you darling” he rested his head back and shut his eyes, and it was your turn now to shower his pretty face in gentle affection, kissing each and every little freckle of his, being sure to kiss along the trail of stubble that had grown since he’d not shaved since yesterday morning. 

“Of course. Have I told you how gorgeous you are in the morning, Chef?” You mused, gently smoothing down his wild locks from the pillows during the night and sometimes nuzzled into your chest, since he was convinced that was the best pillow in the house. 

“You’ve said so before I believe” he joked, peeking an eye open at you adorably as you gently stroked his cheeks with cupped hands. “If you keep stroking me like a pet I’m going to fall back asleep, angel” he took another sip of his tea and this time when he rested his head back you left supple kisses on his closed lids, causing him to smile and blush a bit at the tickle feeling. 

“You deserve some more sleep sweets, nearly 14 hour days this week. My poor love, 80 hours is a killer workweek” you cooed, kissing his temple when he rested his face in the crook of your shoulder nuzzling you adorably and relishing in his well earned and much deserved attention. 

“Thought about you multiple times an hour every one of the 80” he said sweetly, planting a kiss on your collarbone. “And just how bad I missed you” he kissed your neck “in more ways than one” he nibbled just below your pulse point, resting his tea back on the nightstand and soothing over the bite with his tongue, the sting and warmth causing you to let out a small gasp. You couldn’t help the smirk forming on your lips, hand trailing back and finding his hair as you leaned into him. 

“Yeah? You wanna show how much you missed me baby?” You gently tug on his frizzy strands from the night and his warm hand trails over your abdomen, rucking up one of his t-shirts you’d stolen for bed and rubbing his flat warm hand over your belly. 

���I do, may I take these off love?” He thumbs at the waistband of your panties and you smile slightly at his constant need to not waste any time. 

“You can, baby” you lay back on your side of the bed and he swiftly tugs them off before laying between your plush thighs and ravaging them with kisses. You gently scratch his hair and his eyes fall shut as he nuzzled his face into your soft flesh, enjoying the warmth and comfort you offered after such a brutal week in the kitchen. 

“Love you” he mumbled again, before kissing your thigh down, down, down to where you were aching for him most. “Love you more then anything, princess.” He kissed over your nether lips with a gentle movement, easing his tongue on the outside of your folds and smirking into you as he felt you shiver beneath him. 

“Please” you breathe, tugging his hair. 

“I’m gonna take care of you, love. I always do” he spread you out with one of his large tattooed hands, admiring the look of your cunt which always brought heat to your cheeks. “So pretty” he muttered before licking a gentle, flat stripe up your hole that was already dripping wet, over your folds that he flicked with his tongue, up to your clit where he attached his pretty lips and sucked in a way that made your hips twitch and back arch. 

You let out a whiny moan, looking down at him to see his piercing blue eyes melting into yours, cheeks flush with lust as he gauged your every reaction. “Feels -ah- so- so good, Lu- I missed you so much this week fuck” your head dropped back to the pillow in bliss, eyes fluttering shut. He trailed his tongue down, lapping at your cunt while his adorable nose rubbed at your clit like a man starved. “Fuck I’m gonna cum” you gasped, tugging on his hair tighter “please- please fuck me, Lu. Wanna feel you I miss you” 

“Can I make you finish on my mouth, then I’ll fuck you?” He asked in that sweet, innocent way. Like he wasn’t asking about fucking you raw on a Sunday morning and instead was telling someone how many grams of sugar they need in their frosting. A genuine question,with his nose wet from your arousal like a puppy, if you said no he would get right to work. That was something about Luca, he knew his job was overly demanding - so the fact that you wait at home for him to only get a few short hours together before bed every night and this one precious day a week together - he wanted to be sure to give you whatever you wanted. 

“Please” you beg, pushing his face back where it was and moaning out when he continued tonguing your pussy as he rubbed your clit expertly with the bridge of his nose. “So perfect- god you’re so perfect Lu - so so strong, and- and smart- just like that baby” you gasped. He hummed at the praise and you knew his cheeks were gonna be bright pink by the time he finished with all this praise he was getting. “An- so pretty” you spread your thighs further “no one can get me off like you do, baby. I love you” you said and he gave you a wet kiss on your inner thigh in response and thanks for your praise before continuing. 

It wasn’t long until you were whining his name and clenching around his fingers he used to get you ready for him, since neither of you wanted to take things slow this morning and with Luca unless you were going very slow you had to prepare or things could end badly. Safe to say your boyfriend was blessed in his pants many times over, but after 9 months of being together you thankfully had gotten used to the large stretch it gives. “That’s it. What a good girl, sound so pretty when you cum, you know that angel? So beautiful” he cooed in your ear as his fingers worked you through your high, jaw lacks in a silent scream and brows furrowed at the intense pleasure. 

He kissed over your jaw and cheeks, stopping as soon as you whined it was too much. “What do you want darling” he cradled you, kissing your now sweaty forehead as you rested over him in post orgasmic bliss. 

“Want another just- just give me a second” you kiss his jaw lazily and rest your face on his shoulder. Legs and core still twitching every so often from your comedown “felt so good Lu, so good” you mumble, kissing his warm skin. 

“Yeah? I’m glad baby that’s what I’m here for” he rubbed your side lovingly and kissed the top of your warm head. “I’m ready for you whenever you are love, however you want mm?” He squeezed your hips gently. 

“Wanna ride you, you look so pretty under me” you said, eyes still closed and nuzzled in his neck so you couldn’t see the way his cock twitched - more like jumped - in his boxerbriefs - or how his blush extended all the way down to his toned chest. 

“Okay baby. But remember it’s ok if you can’t take it all, yeah?” He kissed your head gently and you look up at him through your lashes, nodding obediently. 

“But I still wanna try” you said softly. He cupped your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your jaw 

“You’re always so good to me, Angel” he gave your nose a gentle kiss and you giggled shyly, taking his hand and kissing his palm. 

“No that’s you. Cmon lay down pretty boy, it’s my turn to take over” you joked and sat up on your knees while he shuffled down getting comfortable on his back with a smile. 

“There’s lubricant in the side draw” he told you, resting his hands behind his head comfortably and you laughed, shaking your head and he looks at you. 

“What? What’s funny?” He asked and you giggle more.

“Lubricant. Its lube you British weirdo” you teased and he rolled his eyes with an amused smile, shaking his head 

“If I made fun of your accent nearly as much as you made fun of mine I don’t think you’d be very happy” he joked and you pulled open his bedside table, taking out said lube and setting it on the tabletop. 

“Cause I don’t have an accent. You're the one with an accent” you kissed his neck, gently nipping over bites that had healed from last Sunday as you trailed one of your hands into his boxers and tugged out his length, not caring to take them off since you were already straddling him. 

“Actually you would be the only one I know here that has an accent darling - strangely we don’t get many tourists around Noma” he teased as you squirted some lube into your palm before stroking him in your hand and he grunted softly “shit” he muttered and you smiled teasingly 

“From what I’ve been told, by you is that you love my accent and you think it’s sexy” you smiled, lining him up and sinking down just about half way, using his chest as leverage. “Fuckin hell Lu-“ you hissed at the stretch, and he grabbed one of your hands, bringing it to his lips. 

“You don’t have to go all the way-“ he reminded you and you shook your head 

“I can fucking take it” you breathed, giving yourself a moment before sinking down another inch and he let out a moan 

“Ok- fuck- just- just don’t hurt yourself babe” he said, his breath coming out as warm comforting puffs over your intertwined fingers. 

“Feels so good- I just- let me move a little” you said and squeezed his hand as you slowly and gently move up and down over what you already had inside and you both moan in tandem, heads falling back and your thighs shaking at the overwhelming pleasure. “So fucking big” you gasp as you sat on him fully, pelvis’ flush together and he looks down, the sight alone causing his cock to twitch inside of you. 

“Jesus fuckin Christ” he looks up at you “how’s it feel?” He asked. You could barely even speak through the mind numbing pleasure that came with taking all of Luca. So instead you just take his palm and press it against your lower belly, beginning to ride him slow and careful and his mouth drops as he feels himself rutting in and out of you beneath his hand. 

“See how big you are, Lu? I can feel you in my stomach” you said hotly in his ear and he groans, grabbing the flesh of your ass and helping you move 

“I’m gonna cum- fuck you’re so warm darling I can’t-“ he moaned out and you giggled, kissing his jaw gently 

“So let go baby” you move yourself a bit quicker and harder with his help, squeaking when you felt the tip of his cock kiss your cervix lightly, jolting at the sharp sensation and clenching around him 

“Did I hurt you?” He asked quickly, slowing his movements and you shook your head bracing yourself on his shoulders and throwing your ass back on him harder - being sure to angle him up more so that wouldn’t happen 

“No- just happens sometimes when you’re big” you assured him and rolled your hips in a way that made his stomach clench and hand tighten around your wrist 

“Wow” he said, eyes nearly rolling back. You smiled at your newfound move and continued the action, alternating between quick and slow circles and he was sounding so pretty beneath you, whimpering “I’m- I’m gonna cum- fuck - Angel- can’t- i can’t” his breath becoming more ragged and tense. 

“Yeah? You wanna cum inside me. You gonna fill me up sweet boy?” You coo, kissing his neck and nipping gently. With a hot moan and a snap of his hips he was spilling inside of you, whispering the dirtiest filth in your ear of how no other girl has been able to take him how you do, and how your body was made for him and him only. Which of course brought you to the crux of your next orgasm and he just had to lightly play with your clit for a moment before you were crying out for him once again. 

Safe to say this activity was quickly added to the weekly Sunday roster.

[badwritinghabit]

Hello and Goodbye (part 2) | Chef Luca x fem!Reader

Previous Chapter

Warnings: Explicit smut (mdni!). Specifically oral (reader receiving) and vaginal sex, along with some minor pinning down/controlling vibes but still very sweet with lots of checking in.

Word Count: 2,835

Summary: You and Luca go on a date and reflect on the past. Then you take him home with you.

Author's Note: I was torn in a few different directions so I just wrote what felt right-- some fluffy nonsense and then smut. I am tempted to go back and write a one or two chapter prequel with some cheesy romance between younger Luca and reader from what I hinted at in the start of this chapter. Let me know if you'd be interested! Probably wouldn't be smut, just a fluff/idiots in love type story.

Months. Luca was going to stay in Chicago for months. The words hadn’t left your head since Luca had said them. You’d left the party with him, feeling floaty and light. The street lights, the far off sound of music pouring through an open window, Luca’s fingers threaded through yours.  Chicago didn’t usually feel romantic. It felt like work and school and trudging through the snow on January mornings. But that night, Chicago felt like the warm and fuzzy moment in a romantic comedy. When the main characters had reached the end of the story and had fallen in love, for real this time. And the feeling followed you home as Luca walked you to your apartment. When you unlocked the front door, he stopped you with a gentle tug on your wrist. You’d wanted to invite him up but he had leaned forward, pressed a kiss to your lips, and said he wanted to take you on a date. 

He was being sweet.

Now you’re sitting in a bar. It is next to the apartment you lived in years ago, when you and Luca had worked together. The bar had changed ownership at least once but Luca had insisted that you go check it out, for old times sake.

Luca reaches a hand over the table and grabs yours. He trails his thumb lightly across your palm, again and again. Calming and sweet. He doesn’t even seem to be thinking about it particularly, his other hand setting his pint glass down on the table after taking a drink.

“I don’t know if I like it as much anymore,” you say, as you look around the bar again, voice quiet so as to not be heard by any of the bartenders. 

Luca smiles and raises his eyebrows questioningly. “It’s cleaner.” 

You laugh. “It is cleaner. But it doesn’t feel the same anymore. I don’t think they’d let us stay until 3 am playing cards like the old days.”

“Probably not,” he agrees, his thumb still tracing your hand. “I was surprised they let us do that in the first place. I think they only let us because of you.” 

“Me?”

“You underestimate yourself. You had everyone wrapped around your finger back then,” he says. His tone is light but your heart speeds up at his heated eye contact. 

“I think you might be misremembering things,” you demur, flipping your hands on the table so that yours is on top and curling your fingers into his so that you are holding hands. 

He hums and shakes his head. “Remember when you stopped us from betting money on cards? You had us flicking each other’s foreheads when we lost.” He was smirking.

“Everyone loved that! It was fun. And we weren’t wasting money,” you defend yourself, face heating as he chuckles at your insistence. 

“Part of the fun is wasting money, love.” 

You feel your chest tighten at his use of love. “I was just being the responsible one. Someone needed to be!” 

He laughs again and squeezes your hand. “I liked it.”

You squint at him suspiciously and he just chuckles. 

“I did. Everyone did. You had us all charmed. I’m just saying, you could have convinced us lads to do anything.” 

You roll your eyes, unsure how to respond. It was a good group, you’d connected quickly and had spent an awful lot of time together outside of work. You had been too focused on him back then to really pay attention to how the other’s treated you. You don’t dwell on it, instead you brush your thumb against Luca’s and challenge him to a thumb war. He grins and immediately accepts. Unfortunately, his hand is much larger and you are quickly overpowered.

“You cheated,” you grumble. 

“How did I cheat?” 

“Your hands are too big. You have a longer thumb-span.” He laughs at that and goes back to tracing his thumb over the soft skin on your palm. “And you said I had you charmed. You didn’t even let me win.” 

He leans forward over the small table and your eyes briefly dip down as his elbow comes to rest on the table. The dark button up shirt he is wearing looks smooth in the dimmed light of the bar. His sleeves are rolled up from earlier in the evening and your eyes are drawn to his arms. His movement causes the warm, slightly woody smell of his cologne to wash over you. You meet his eyes again and he’s smirking at you, as if he could read your mind. 

“Did you want me to let you win?” his voice is low and you glance at his lips before you can stop yourself. 

“No,” you blurt quickly. “I take thumb wars seriously.” 

“I admire your competitive spirit.”

You blink at him as he grips your hand again, preparing for another thumb war. His eyes are still locked on yours. You couldn’t help but think he had become too good at flirting since you’d last seen him.

The bartender brings you another drink, and before long you realize it has gotten later than you realized. Luca walks you home, giving you his jacket when he catches you shivering after a gust of wind. 

You hesitate at the door. You stick your keys in the lock, faltering slightly but opening it. “Are you going to come up this time?” you ask, shifting nervously as you stand on your doorstep and turn to look at him.

“I’d like to. If you’ll have me.” 

You smile and grab his wrist to pull him in after you. You unlock the door to your apartment and swing it open, sliding off your shoes as you walk in. You take off the coat he gave you and put it on the hook near your door. Luca follows, looking around your apartment after setting his shoes next to your own. 

“I like the painting,” he starts, “where did you–”. Before he can finish, you’re leaning up and pressing your lips against his. 

When he hesitates, you pull back. “Sorry, I thought–”

And then he is cutting you off, hands on your cheeks as he pulls your mouth back to his. He’s soft and so painfully sweet, your heart skips a beat. His hand slides down, fingers warm against the back of your neck as his thumb presses against your chin. 

You reach up and pull lightly on his collar, urging him closer to you, inviting him to kiss you harder. You open your mouth and his tongue meets yours. Still soft and sweet. After a breath you nip gently at his lower lip and he groans, making you smile.

One of his hands drops and finds your hip, pulling you closer and then sliding up, playing with the hem of your sweater. You undo the top button of his shirt and then the second. You pull back for a breath and his hands are careful, as they slide under your shirt. His eyes never stray from yours, making sure you are okay with him taking the next step. 

“Let’s go to my room,” you breathe. And he follows you down the hall. You pull your sweater off over your head. Before you can unzip your skirt he stops you. 

“Let me take my time,” he says, voice low in your ear. He’s standing behind you. You feel small under him as his hands slide from your hips, upward. You arch back the slightest bit, pressing your ass against him. You hear him exhale harshly and his hand cups your breasts over your bra. He slowly unzips your skirt with his other hand and you stop yourself from whining as you want him to go faster. He seems to notice your impatience. 

“I’ve thought about all of the things I would do if I got another chance with you.” He pinches your nipple between his fingers and you arch again. He keeps talking, his voice and the exquisitely dirty things he says, making you more and more needy. He groans your name.

“Luca. I need-” you say, somewhere between a gasp and a whine. 

“I know.” His voice is low, almost a growl. Him taking control is making your knees quiver. His hand trails down from your chest to your panties, middle finger sliding gently over your center. He presses just the tiniest bit, a teasing pressure against your clit making you grip his wrist. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, staying his hand but not moving away. 

You nod quickly and then say aloud, “yes”. 

“Let me know if you want me to stop, yeah?” 

“I won’t want to stop,” you say immediately. He grins and you feel it as he presses his lips to the column of your throat and nips gently at the sensitive skin. His hand slips inside your underwear, running his finger through your folds. You jolt a little at the sensation and he pulls away gently, pausing to slide your underwear down your legs. 

“You’re still dressed,” you say, suddenly self conscious. He finishes unbuttoning his shirt and your eyes drop and trace the smooth, chiseled lines of his chest. Your eyes trail along his tattoos and you reach out to the touch one on his shoulder. 

He presses you forward and you lay back onto your bed. He unbuckles his belt and slides his pants to the floor. He is left in his underwear as he leans over you. He presses his lips to your neck and then chest, mouth going lower and lower.  

He kisses the curve of your stomach, pressing his lips gently across your hip. He bites the soft skin at the point your thigh meets your hip and your leg flexes involuntarily. 

He’s teasing you. Your breath exhales in a whine as he moves across to your other hip, not paying any attention where you need him most. 

“Luca,” you say as his teeth gently mark your skin. You twitch, moving your hips closer to his face. 

“What is it?” he asks, still not giving you what you want. 

“Please,” you gasp. And then his fingers are spreading your folds and his tongue is gentle against your clit. You nearly sob, a choked breath exhaling at the relief. He slides a finger inside, and adds another, you breathe in, not even realizing how empty you felt until he was there. His tongue keeps a steady pressure with his soft licks as he starts pumping his fingers in and out. 

You’re trying not to buck too hard into his mouth. He presses an arm against your thigh to keep you open for him and something about his casual control makes your heart pound harder. 

He doesn’t stop the perfect drag of his tongue on your clit, even as you plummet over the edge, gasping his name. His fingers glide against your sensitive walls until you buck away, overstimulated from his ministrations.

He slides his fingers from inside of you and crawls up to lay beside you. You blink up into his eyes, catching your breath as you watch him. His hand is gently stroking up and down your side, as if helping calm your body after your orgasm. You lean forward and pull his face to yours, kissing him hard. 

“I have condoms,” you say as you pull back to catch your breath. He sits up and grabs his own from a wallet beside his bed. 

You watch as he slides his boxers over his hips and he catches your eyes, grinning at you teasingly for having caught you checking him out. He’s already slid the condom on and before he can say something to tease you, you climb into his lap. His eyes widen in surprise but he grips your hips and helps you stabilize yourself on top of him.

You kiss him as your hand slides down his chest, fingers trailing across the firm heat of his chest, downwards. You feel him twitch in your hand as you grasp his cock and press yourself down onto him, slowly. You groan at the feel of him, leaning forward and pressing your forehead against his.

The feeling of him inside you is divine– hot and hard and the perfect stretch. You breathe shallowly as you lower yourself fully onto him. 

He gives you a moment, not moving as he feels you squeeze around him torturously. He presses kisses to your neck, soft and sweet. After a few breaths, he reaches up and runs his hand through your hair before gently grabbing it at the base of your neck in his fist and tugging lightly. Your thighs clench reflexively and you meet his eyes. 

“Are you still feeling good, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Sorry, just adjusting.”

“No apologizing,” he admonishes gently, cupping your cheek. “You feel so good,” he says, “better than I remembered.” He says your name in a sigh as you clench around him, his other hand gripping your hip a little more tightly. “I’ve thought about you a lot,” he continues, voice low. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” 

You press your lips to his for a quick kiss then move your hips up. The feeling of him moving inside of you forces you to take a breath and you pull back, mouth open. 

“So pretty,” he says, watching you arch on top of him, his hand moving from your hips to your ass, squeezing before pulling you to him a little as he lifts his hips under you. You gasp as he presses even deeper inside you. You speed up your movement on top of him as he starts to meet your hips. 

He feels your legs shake after he thrusts again and he wraps an arm around your waist and rolls you over, his other arm propping himself up over you. He thrusts slowly at first but increases the pace until you are gripping his shoulders, legs locked around him, heels pressed into the heated skin of his lower back.

You reach a hand up to hold onto his wrist resting near your head. He immediately grips your hand, entwining your fingers with his and pressing your hand to the bed. You arch up and he shifts and grabs your other hand as well, pushing it up by the other and pinning both to the bed. He meets your eyes to make sure you’re okay and you immediately nod, gasping out his name and pressing your hips up to meet his again.

You exhale as he presses his hips all the way against yours in one smooth motion. Then he is pounding into you, little exhaled sighs leave your lips with each thrust. You’re stretched full and the force has you just on the edge of pain. Every stroke your clit rubs against his pelvis and you feel yourself get close again. 

He’s coaxing you to another orgasm, his thrusts hard and deep and hitting all of the right places.

You only catch a few of the things he says to you as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge-- 

“Fuck, can you hear how wet you are?”

“So good for me.”

“I want you to let go. Come on, pretty girl.”  

“Luca,” you say his name, eyes locked on his for a second before they slam shut as you tumble over the edge of your second orgasm. You arch up, twisting lightly in his hold and he continues to press into you, holding your wrists down as he fucks you through the waves of pleasure. After a few more thrusts his hips stutter and he presses inside of you and groans as he reaches his own peak. 

You’re breathing heavily as he slides out of you. He disposes of the condom and lays next to you again. You’re still breathing heavily and he is holding you, warm and stable next to you. 

You know you need to get up and clean yourself off. Instead, you reach up and pull his hair, now slightly damp with sweat, bringing him in for another soft kiss. 

“Have you really been thinking of me all of this time?” you ask, breathless as you pull away. 

“Every day,” he confesses readily, pressing another kiss to your lips. 

Your heart races at his admission. His easy affection. 

“I’ve thought about you a lot too.” You meet his eyes and see only the softest adoration so you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed when you say it. Or when you lean into him again, hugging him tightly to you. He hugs you tighter and you giggle as he nuzzles his nose into your shoulder, his hair tickling your neck. 

“Let’s take a shower, yeah?” 

You agree and stand up, stretching your arms over your head. You catch him looking at your chest and he grins at you, raising an eyebrow suggestively. “Round two in the shower?” 

You laugh, cheeks warming.

“We have to make up for lost time, love.”

[wtfsteveharrington]

"an exploratory kiss, testing the waters between them" with Luca please!

a/n: i love luca so so bad i fear s3 has giving me horrific brain rot for him baby boy i’m knocking on ur door and getting on one knee

contents: kissing, some pda, cluelessness, all my faves

"I mean... I think we're just friends, right?"

Luca takes a long swig from his cold beer pint. Using the drink as an excuse to buy himself time to think. It was some draft IPA that was just the perfect level of pretentious where he didn’t look like a dick but separated himself from some domestic bottle. Something that would matter to no one except a man with his level of perception anxiety. Condensation dripping down his wrist which your eyes follow, trailing the drops as they roll down his forearm.

"Right. And would it be worth risking things between us to test out... Something more? Because I don't want to lose you just to find out we’re being a touch crazy.”

"I don't want to lose you either." You rush out after his sentence, shaking your head while resting your hands on your knees. The rough material of your jeans against your palms helping to keep you grounded.

It had been a half an hour since you and Luca passed some wonderful older woman on the street who needed directions. Luca was able to relay them by heart, though it didn’t stop you from double checking on your phone to ensure you didn’t send her off on a misguided path. She beamed at the two of you once she knew her way, patting Luca’s arm and asking the question that has broken the two of you ever since. “How long have you two been married?”

To which the two of you sputtered out a mess of words, none of which made any sense, and the older woman gave a tsk tsk tsk. “You better propose before it’s too late. Shouldn’t let such a catch get away.” The takes off on her journey. Both of you stood their with your jaws dropped before you finally started continuing on your path to the bar and trying to laugh it off.

But neither of you could let it go.

“We could-…“ You take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders back and strengthening your resolve, “We could kiss? That way we can feel there’s nothing there and get it out of minds.”

Luca stares down at his beer, eyeing the way the foam is slowly dissipating and contemplating his options. “Just one kiss?”

You nod, “Just one. Lips only, no tongue, nothing crazy.”

His body’s turning to you, eyes filled with apprehension. Searching your face for any sign of doubt, which he doesn’t find, before nodding back to you. “Just one. We’re realize how silly this is and put it behind us.”

Luca’s hand comes to rest on top of yours, the bar suddenly feeling so much warmer and intimate than before. Thankfully no one was paying attention to your little table tucked away in the back corner. He’s watching your breathing, watching your expression. Catches your tongue dart out to moisten your lips and he does the same.

He’s close enough now where you can feel the warmth rolling off his body, you can hear each steady breath he takes. “Just… Stop me if this is weird, yeah?”

You nod, leaning in as well until your noses brush against each other and your eyes fall closed before your lips connect against his. They’re slightly cold from his drink, hints of beer still on his lips. You stay connected for just a moment before you pull away, eyeing him apprehensively.

“How was that?”

He sucks in some air, staying close to you still. “It was, uhm, chaste. To say the least.”

There’s a flush on your cheeks at that.

“Well… I mean, We can do a real kiss if you want.”

Luca’s eyes are on yours, his hand moving to slide up your thigh and grabs ahold of it. “We should just make sure, y’know? Because that told me nothing.”

It’s a flawed plan but you’re not thinking as clearly with him this close.

Your arms wrap around his neck and you bring the two of you closer once again. Your lips finding his and you let out a soft moan as you feel his part under yours. He takes the chance to let his tongue slide against your bottom lip before slipping between your lips and into your mouth. You lace one of your hands in his hair while his free arm wraps around your waist now.

It’s his turn to groan into the kiss. The sound causes you to press your thighs together while your tongue moves along his. Your breathing is picking up and you’re convinced he can hear just how hard your heart is beating.

He tastes sweet. The IPA mixed with vanilla from the custard he kept having to taste during service. It was addicting to say the least.

Minutes, hours, days pass by as you lose yourself in him. Eventually you hear him groan, pulling back slightly to press another kiss to your bottom lip before leaning back in his chair. Beaming at your shocked expression.

Your hand comes up, fingers resting against your lips as you chase the feeling of the kiss. Oh.

Luca has to adjust himself on the seat, chuckling at the sight of you as he tries to relax his breathing. “She, uh, she might have known what she was talking about.”

Luca looks smug, even with his blushing cheeks, as he takes another drink of his beer. His hand never leaving your thigh.

[inklore]

— luca (the bear) x f!reader. luca has a thing about fucking you in the kitchen. contents: p in v, cunnilingus, dirty talk, fingering | wc: 783+

It is almost a problem how much Luca enjoys fucking you against the counter in your shared kitchen. 

A problem when you have a knife in your hand trying to cut the veggies for your dinner, his chest pressing against your back as he comes and stands behind you. His palm running down your arm, to your wrist, slotting over your hand—a fake show of him teaching you a lesson you already know. 

How to cut right so you don’t slip and get your finger. The perfect positioning, glide, and control of the knife that only a seasoned chef would know how to do. 

“You’re a faster learner.” He’ll say teasingly in your ear. His smile against your neck as his face leans into your space, the tip of his nose running along the quickening pulse in your neck. 

You want to roll your eyes and tell him that you’re not learning much of anything right now that you don’t already know—that he isn’t distracting from as you feel his cock hardening against your ass. 

His other hand travels up the side of your thigh, making you shiver, a slow destination to the bottom of your worn sleep shorts. His fingers pushing past the fabric, pressing against your clothed clit. 

“Luca,” it’s a warning, a moan. Your head turning to look at him, stopping by his cheek when he pushes it forward with his nose. 

“Pay attention to what you’re doing, baby.” His fingers run along your slit. Wetness quickly gathers between your legs and slicks the fabric of your underwear, giving his fingers a better slide and push against your clothed pussy. “Don’t want you to cut yourself.” His teeth nip at your jaw. 

And you try to focus. Try to glide the knife through the vegetables, try not to push back against him, and run your ass against his dick, but fail. His low groan against your ear makes your eyes flutter. 

A string of moans pulled from your heaving chest when his fingers pull at your underwear enough to allow his fingers to move inside and press flush against your throbbing clit. 

“Careful.” His accent is deeper when he’s amped up like this. When he’s teasing you. When he’s making you feel so good and craving to feel just as good for himself. “I don’t think you’re paying attention.” 

“I-ahh, Luca.” 

“Baby.” He says mockingly. 

You know it’s him that’s stopping you from cutting yourself. His hand doing all the guiding, both with the knife and your body, as his fingers press into you and fuck you until your legs are shaking and you can’t keep your eyes open. 

The knife in your hands limp and forgotten, the vegetables pushed to the floor as Luca presses a palm to the middle of your back to bend you over. Pulling your shorts down and wasting no time to push inside of you. Both of you moaning in relief. You can feel his cock throbbing against your fluttering walls. 

The pace of his hips snapping hard against your ass makes your body jolt against the counter. Making anything around you not already on the floor find its way there. 

Safety forgotten. The only thing that matters is how good his cock feels inside of you, how pretty you sound in the one place of the house he’s an expert in. The one person he’s an expert at pulling incoherent moans and pleads from. 

His hand wraps around the base of your throat to pull you back against his chest, his fingers gripping your jaw when he turns your head towards his mouth so he can press a needy wet kiss on it. 

“Whose is it, baby? Who’s pretty lil’pussy is it?” He asks breathless against your mouth, panting as he stares into your eyes. His own blown out. The heat in them makes your belly burn. 

“Yours, only yours.” You whine into his mouth. Taste the sauce you made him try earlier; that is surely burning on the stove by now. 

When you’re about to come, he pulls out and turns you around, drops to his knees, his hand gripping the back of your calf as he puts your leg over his shoulder. Spreading your legs and putting his mouth on your pussy. Lips wrapping around your clit until your fingers are gripped in his hair and your hips are canting up against his face. Fucking yourself against his tongue and mouth until you’re coming, screaming his name. 

“Best fuckin’ meal I’ve ever had,” he says against your thigh. Placing a wet kiss against your thigh before he’s standing up, pulling your leg over his hip, and slipping back inside of you.  

[greenorangevioletgrass]

give me a minute (1/2) | chef luca

pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader word count: 4.7k warnings: established former relationship, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, discussions of separation and divorce, luca and reader has a son, unresolved sexual tension 👀 notes: this fic has been the bane of my existence for the last couple of months or so. it all started as a simple thought of "ooh it would be fun to have a steamy smut with ex!luca" and then it turns into a whole thing with like proper angst and stuff lol. this will be split into two parts, and i think i need encouragement to finish the second part. so please enjoy this first part and tell me what you think! ✨follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notifications to get alerted of my latest fics! ✨

03:49 PM

Everything is fine, you keep telling yourself.

Your soon-to-be ex-husband is flying in from Denmark to finalize the divorce—and even after two years of exhaustive paperwork and mediations and court proceedings, you still don’t know how to feel about this. His visit to New York is meant to be a consolation prize for your six-year-old son Alfie, whose only facetime with his dad lately is through… well, FaceTime. But, given how extraordinarily difficult he’s being—fussing over his breakfast, stalling shower time by a record of 48 minutes, refusing to wear anything you picked out for him… you have an inkling that he might be a little nervous to see his father.

And to make matters worse, it’s raining cats and dogs outside, which delays Luca by two hours now and actively threatens the zoo outing he has planned out for him and Alfie.

So… despite the shitstorm that is happening in your apartment and out, you keep telling yourself that everything is fine.

Because it is. Your home is tidy enough, with all the toys and the mess tucked away in their little cubbies. Your son is dressed up enough; he’s finally put on his pants and shirt, although you missed a button and he won’t let you fix it. The storm is outside, and you’re safely sheltered in. And your relationship with your ex is civil enough, so you feel…

Fine enough.

But the doorman buzzes in, and you can definitely tell the awkwardness in his voice. “Afternoon, Ma’am. I have your husband— I mean, Chef Luca— I mean Mr. Bailey—”

You sigh, not having the energy to let this go on. “Yeah, yeah. Send him up.”

Alfie looks up from his coloring book and practically jumps out of the couch. “My tummy hurts, I’m gonna make a doodie!”

“No running!” You remind him just a second too late, watching him dash over to the bathroom and slamming the door closed. He has a nervous stomach just like you, and as you feel the icky twist in your gut… you can’t help but empathize with his antics today. You would be fucking shit up too, if you only could.

There’s a knock at the door, and you brace yourself as if you’re about to let the storm itself in (although, quite frankly, you probably are). Your hand feels clammy, and you have to wipe it off on your dress before you unlock the door and turn the knob.

“Hey.”

If the storm was a person, you wouldn’t have associated it with the man standing before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With boyish features and dark blond locks like gentle daylight. It feels like a reach to imagine the seven years of your relationship with him was, indeed, an epic fucking hurricane.

Still. 

You can’t help that you miss him.

“Come on in.” You step aside, not really meeting his gaze.

He murmurs a small thanks and apology, a staple combination in Luca’s British vernacular, as he squeezes in through the door with his duffel bag and suitcase.

“I thought you’d dropped these off at your hotel before you came here.”

“I know. I was going to, but…” he puts down his bags close to the jacket closet, like he always does, “But I got held up for ages and traffic was awful and I didn’t want Alfie to wait even longer, so…”

“Right.” You nod absently. “Well. He’s in the bathroom, should be out in a second, so… have a seat. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Um, water’s fine.” He takes his seat on the dining table.

You’re not sure which one is more jarring; the sheer familiarity of this, or the fact that it isn’t anymore. The two of you just hovering in the home you used to share, courteous but distant.

Luca looks around the place, and notices all the differences right away. You kept the glass dining table and two of the chairs, but changed the corner seating into a plush dining bench against the kitchen island. He recognizes Alfie’s favorite stuffed bunny on the couch, although the throw pillows were new. But he takes one look at the wall… and his heart drops.

Gone are any traces of him in the snapshots of your life. The pictures are all of you and Alfie—eating ice cream in the park, grinning and showing his first lost tooth, dressed up on Halloween… He really shouldn’t be surprised or disappointed to find the wedding portrait gone, or the vacation selfie in Italy four years ago. But it hurts quite a bit to find a generic flower portrait replacing the picture of him kissing you on the forehead while Alfie, laying on your chest, merely hours after his birth.

“Yeah, I…” you clear your throat as you hand him the glass of water, “…did some redecorating.”

“It looks good.” He manages a stiff nod, taking a hesitant swig of water.

“You look…” good, you want to say. Because he is. He’s got that tan and the haircut that reminds you of when you first met him years ago. But you can’t say that. So you settle with, “You look well.”

He meets your eyes, really meets your eyes for the first time, and you try to convince yourself the little flutter you feel inside is just your nervous stomach. But he smiles, soft and earnest. “So do you.”

You turn back and open the fridge, welcoming the cold air and how it cools down the burning warmth on your cheeks. Trying not to freak out and decide what you’re getting, so you don’t look like an idiot. Your hand grabs a can of ginger ale, and you sigh in relief.

“How’s Alfie doing in school?”

“He’s doing alright. He’s enjoying his art classes. Math is still a struggle, but Ms. Rashad says his reading is quite advanced for his age.” You relax a little bit into the conversation. The topic of your son resets you a little bit into a somewhat common ground as co-parents. Plain and simple.

“Definitely takes after you. My dyslexic ass could never.”

You smile at that. Small jokes are still there, always a good sign.

“And the, uh…” he lowers his voice, “the anxiety?”

“Comes and goes. He’s been complaining about a stomach ache all day.” You glance towards the bathroom.

He frowns in concern. “Should we go check on him?”

“Sure…” You walk together with Luca following suit, tentatively knocking at the door. “Alfie? Hey bub, how’s your doodie?” It sounds silly, but you find it helps to ask open questions instead of showing your worries outright.

A flush from inside. “There’s no doodie,” he hollers. His voice is murmured from the barrier, and then the running tap water.

You catch the unease in Luca’s features, and you feel a little bad for him. It wouldn’t feel great that your own son is nervous to see you after many months apart. “You wanna come out, then? Your dad’s here.” You try to sound cheerful and upbeat, hoping it’ll hype them both up.

The two-second gap never felt so long. But the door opens, and there he is, standing meekly against the frame. Staring up at you and then at Luca.

Luca’s heart nearly stops as those big doe eyes stare up at him, a spitting image of you. The same softness. The same spark of stubbornness.

The same vulnerable look.

“Hey, bub.”

“Hi.”

“Can I get a hug?”

There’s a brief pause, before he steps forward and throws his arms around his father’s middle. Luca grunts softly, a little surprised by the sheer force Alfie is hugging him, his heart swelling three times over.

“Oh my God, look at you!” He ruffles the boy’s dark hair and kneels down to level with him. His cherubic face is small cupped in his large hand, but not as small as Luca remembered it. “You’re so tall now!”

“Of course. I’m 3 feet and 8 inches tall now. Right, Mommy?” He proudly announces, getting the exact height completely memorized.

“That’s right,” you confirm with a grin. 

Luca gasps, a smile blooming on his face. “What?”

Alfie nods. “I’m gonna be as tall as you.”

“No! Don’t grow up so fast!” He playfully cries out.

“Why?”

“Because I won’t get to do this anymore!” Luca seizes his boy into his arms and sweeps him off of his bunny-socked feet, sending Alfie into a fit of hysterical giggles.

The sight makes you chuckle, but the feeling could bring Luca to happy tears. He’s been gone for so long, he’s afraid he’d forget how it feels to hold his son in his arms again. Or worse, that his son would find his presence alien.

But he’s here now. With you and the son you share. Attacking Alfie in tickles and noisy kisses, and letting the boy climb him like monkey bars. And it calms his anxious heart a bit as he reminds himself, everything’s fine. 

And as things fall back into place, thunder crashes outside, as if sobering all of you back into reality. Alfie shirks into himself, climbing off of his father’s back. You want to reach out for him so badly, but at the same time, not wanting to interrupt his bonding time with his dad.

“It’s okay, bub. It’s just thunderclap,” Luca soothes emphatically over the sudden silence, bringing Alfie back down to his feet. He smooths his son’s hair gently, comfortingly. “I got you, I got you…”

“Do animals even come out in the rain?” Alfie is back to his withdrawn self, mumbling his words and avoiding Luca’s gaze.

“Some animals actually love playing in the rain,” you chime in helpfully.

Luca keeps his tone cheerful and bright. “Yeah, and you can wear your raincoat and your wellies and I’ll even let you jump in puddles—”

“I don’t wanna do that! I wanna stay home!” He whines, voice raising a little.

“It’s your dad’s time—”

“No!”

“Alfie.” Your tone is firmer now, as he struggles out of his father’s arms and runs to his favorite corner of the couch in the living room, holding his stuffed bunny tight. 

But Alfie’s got a point. This is not the kind of rain where you can take a leisurely stroll in. No, this is the kind where you stay huddled inside and hope it doesn’t flood the streets. Luca takes a thoughtful look at Alfie who is sulking and shrinking from the sound of thunder, at the window completely obscured from rain, and then at you… offering an apologetic smile.

So much for quality time with his son. 

Luca’s heart sinks a little. He sighs in defeat. “Maybe we should just wait it out…”

“Are you sure? I mean, you flew 9 hours to see him—“

“And I don’t want him to be pissed at me the whole time we’re hanging out,” he reasons. “Besides, I don’t think any Uber would take our order at this time.”

It makes sense, you think. As much as you want this awkward little broken family dance to end, you know that staying in and waiting it out is the best option. Alfie would feel much more comfortable at home than in whatever hotel Luca is staying in. And maybe it’s your protective side talking, but if he ever gets fussy, you’d prefer to be around to deal with it.

“Alright, fine.”

“Yeah? Is that okay with you?”

You shrug. The truth is a little more complicated, but ultimately you settle with a simple, “yes.”

Alfie takes a quick glance at you and Luca emerging from the hallway (you have your mother’s side eye, Luca always said), before returning to fiddling his stuffed bunny’s ears (your father’s neutral look of disapproval, you would say). Like clockwork, Luca takes the seat next to Alfie, while you take the puffy stool in front of him.

“That wasn’t very nice of you to raise your voice at me and your dad like that. I get that you’re nervous about the weather—a bit startled, too— but still. We don’t raise our voices in this household.”

Alfie looks at you and Luca. “I’m sorry.”

Luca nods in acknowledgement. “I’m sorry for being late, buddy.” He gingerly reaches out to touch the boy’s hand. “You’re right, though. It might be best to stay in for a bit.” He motions at the rain hammering down on the window outside.

“I told you. I wanna stay at home.”

“I know. And we are for now. We can…” Luca scans around for something to do. His eyes fall on the coloring book and the open box of color pencils next to it. Bingo! “We can… color some drawings in that book?”

He pouts, not entirely sold on the idea but not outright refusing it either. 

“Or, hey, I got some new drawings on me. You can color them, too.” Luca takes off his hoodie and shows off the tattoos on his arms.

God, you forgot about the plethora of trashy tattoos adorning his skin. Even worse, you forgot how it highlights the defined curves of his biceps. Focus, for fuck’s sake! You avert your gaze towards the flower portrait on the wall. 

Alfie perks up a little. “This is my old drawing.” His tiny finger pokes at his forearm, on a tattoo of a stick figure climbing up the stairs. “You still have it?”

“Of course. It’s there forever. I’ll always have it.” Luca finds himself choking up at that simple admission. A little token of childhood of his ever-growing love. “Go on, get your crayons.”

Alfie looks at you as if seeking permission, and it makes you want to laugh that he shares the same animated eyebrows as his father. 

“Go ahead, bub,” you usher him off lightly, and as soon as he’s out of sight, nods at your ex. “Good save.”

Luca half-smiles. “Thanks. You should chill out. Read a book, take a nap or something. I got him.”

“What, are you trying to kick me out?”

“No, I just—”

Your smile breaks out. “I’m kidding! Go hang out with Alf. I got a Zoom meeting in a few minutes anyway.”

He sighs in relief, chuckling lightly. “You almost got me there…”

You briefly pat his shoulder and for an even briefer moment, his hand is atop yours. The big ‘A’ tattoo on the back of his hand—your son’s initial in a bold Gothic letter— serves as a reminder of what’s past; a whirlwind romance, the wild days of being a family of a merry band of misfits…

Misfits. That’s the biggest takeaway here, you suppose. Your pieces don’t quite fit right. Not without little Alfie gluing you together. 

With a final squeeze on Luca’s shoulder, you make your way to your bedroom, making space for Luca’s puzzle pieces to fit with Alfie’s because they don’t fit yours anymore.

***

05:04 PM

By the time your Zoom meeting ends, the pelting rain outside is louder and the chatter inside is nearly inaudible. It feels nice for about ten seconds… until you remember that you have a six-year-old at home and long bouts of silence can be quite… well, suspicious. You pad out into the hallway to check on him.

“Let’s see. You wanna do the sunflower next? What do you think, my love?”

Oh right. For a moment, you forgot that the thirty-year-old other parent is here with him.

Luca has his t-shirt sleeves hiked all the way up, biceps in full display as Alfie colors in a tattoo on the back part of his upper arm. The boy’s tongue sticks out and his eyebrows furrow in focus. It seems like a delicate operation between them, so you linger out of sight for just a while longer.

“Why do you like sunflowers, Dad?”

The two of you have always supported his inquisitive mind, and he missed these kinds of questions most of all. Even if the answers can be a little complicated. “Because of your mum, actually.”

“You like it because Mommy likes it?” Alfie’s little nose crinkles.

Luca chuckles in amusement, sensing the judgment in his son’s tone. Damn you guys for teaching Alfie not to get carried away by trends. “Well… when your mum and I first met, it was winter in Chicago and it’s pretty bleak and gloomy and freezing. But, your mum had a little sunflower by the window—just like that one.” He glances at the little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “She said it’s a reminder to let the sun shine in. I thought it was adorable. We started doing that everywhere we lived and… I don’t know, it reminds me of home.”

“Do you have a sunflower by your window, Dad?”

His heart catches as he realizes the answer. “No, I don’t…”

“Why? You don’t miss home?”

There’s a sharp pang of hurt in hearing that innocent query. The apartment in Copenhagen, as nice as it is, has never been much of a home for Luca. He would get up before the sun is up and return from work late at night—lather, rinse and repeat. On his days off, he would either go on a morning run and spend much of his time outside, or sleep til noon and live on instant ramen and takeout. There’s no time for a sunflower by the window. No room. He made sure of that.

He doesn’t deserve one after leaving his wife and son for fucking Noma. 

Luca swallows back the lump in his throat, although the slight waver in his voice gives him away. “I got my sunflower right here, bub. My little piece of home.” He taps on his arm softly as his son finishes up. 

Alfie hums, pleased with how the tattoo looks, now filled in with yellow and black and brown crayons. “I think this is my favorite one.”

“Yeah? Not the tabasco?” Luca grins, looking down at his forearm—specifically at the mostly accurate red and green of the hot sauce bottle.

“No…” Alfie taps his chin with his finger thoughtfully. “This one is prettier.”

Luca maneuvers around to look at the sunflower tattoo a little better. “You’re right, it is much prettier. Maybe I should get the colors in permanently, huh?”

The boy’s face lights up. “Can you?”

“Yeah. I think I will. Nice job, my little tattoo artist.” Luca pulls him into a bear hug and kisses the top of Alfie’s head. 

You can’t help but chuckle, glad to see them bonding again, lost in your thoughts for a moment.

“Mommy! Dad says I can be a tattoo artist!” Alfie snaps you out of your reverie.

“Is that right?” Your eyebrows shoot up, struggling to maintain a neutral expression while staring at Luca like with all due respect, what the fuck?

He raises his hands in surrender. “I just said he’s my little tattoo artist, that’s all.”

“I colored in all of Dad’s tattoos! Look!” Alfie tugs at his dad’s arm, beaming as he shows off his work.

You step forward, studying the results of the tattoo makeover. Every single tattoo is colored in; some accurately, like the sunflower and tabasco, while others (like the purple fish and chips and blue scotch bonnet)… not so much. You don’t know which one’s more amusing; your son’s artistic style, or your ex’s bashful look as he models the art works on his arms. 

“Looks great, bub. Well done!” You ruffle Alfie’s hair, enjoying his improved mood.

“Can I watch Bluey now?”

You purse your lips comically. “I don’t know, bub. Why don’t you look at your checklist on the fridge and see if you can?”

Alfie bounds past you, towards the fridge, and reads the checklist out loud to himself. “Have you… brushed your teeth? Yes. Brushed your hair? Yes…” He flattens his wavy locks with the palm of his hand, continues reading with a lower murmur. “Mommy, I did everything except tidy up my room and play outside for 30 minutes!”

“Okay. Obviously we can’t play outside, so… why don’t you just go clean your room and I’ll let you watch Bluey for a bit?”

Alfie gamely nods and goes into his bedroom, his bunny socks muting his footsteps against the hardwood floor.

Meanwhile, it takes you an extra beat to realize how close you’re standing with Luca without your child between you. He rolls down the sleeves of his black t-shirt sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Your meeting went okay?”

“It’s alright.” You look at literally anything but the man in front of you, ultimately stopping at your potted sunflower by the windowsill. “That storm out there, on the other hand…”

“Yeah…”

You take an inconspicuous look at the hallway, making sure your son is out of earshot. “Weather reports say it might last a few more hours.”

Luca huffs, trying not to stress out about the possibility of street floods. Of all the things he missed, New York thunderstorms are not one of them. Still, this shitty weather has granted him some time with his son, at his former home… with his former spouse. And God, does he miss this more than he dreads the weather…

“Want me to make you guys dinner?” He offers earnestly.

You pull back, returning to your normal volume. “Oh. No, you don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind. Really. Might as well, right?”

You hear heavy footsteps from the bedroom and Alfie hollers from the hallway. “I’m all done!”

“Don’t forget your crayons!”

Alfie promptly makes a beeline towards his leftover mess. “Heard, Mommy.” He hurriedly puts his crayons back in the box and rushes into his room to put it away. Returning mere moments later with a newfound spring in his steps. “I’m done for real! Now can I please watch Bluey now?”

“I can cook while he gets his screen time.”

The two boys look at you with their best puppy eyes, and it’s the most disarming thing you’ve seen in a while—and the resemblance between them only makes things worse. You playfully roll your eyes in relent. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. Watch your TV and make your dinner.”

There’s a quiet little yesss from Alfie as Luca low-fives him before they scatter, one to the living room and the other to the kitchen. For a moment, you feel like you were transported back in time. For the first time in over two years, you’re caught between cartoon sounds from the TV and the kitchen alive again. All was well in the household. 

“Is he still a picky eater?” Luca mouths the last two words inaudibly.

You raise your eyebrows in confirmation. “All he wants to eat is chicken nuggies.”

“I can do chicken nuggies,” he shrugs easily, rummaging through the freezer and takes out a pack of chicken breasts. “Or some version of that.”

Upon overhearing the key word, Alfie’s head all but whips toward Luca. “We’re having chicken nuggies for dinner?”

“Er, kind of.”

“Can I help?” He perks up from the back of the couch, excitement bubbling over.

Luca smiles apologetically. “Maybe later, my love. Daddy’s gonna be using a big knife…” he says as he checks the blade closely, swiping it with his thumb. “…which is dull, by the way. When was the last time you sharpened this?”

“I… have no idea.” You frown. You don’t even remember sharpening any knives… ever. Meanwhile, Luca simply rummages through the kitchen drawer, which makes you ask, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sharpening it,” he states matter-of-factly, already setting up a makeshift sharpening station which… what?

“Didn’t even know we had that,” you murmur plainly as you watch him work. Taking out a block of whetstone from the drawer (where did that even come from?) and running it under the sink. Laying out a kitchen rag and the stone on top of it.

He chuckles a little, scraping the blade against the stone at an angle, firmly but carefully. “Can’t leave you good Santoku knives without the proper sharpening tools, right?”

“You never taught me how to do it, though.”

“Yes, I have.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“What are you talking about? Back in Chicago, I—”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that was one time forever ago! And you never let me sharpen the knives. You literally always do it.”

He pauses, grinning bashfully. “Fair…”

For the umpteenth time that day, Luca’s heart catches—this time from hearing you laugh. Your warm voice rings so pleasantly in his ears, and the way your face lights up… he almost forgets there’s a storm outside, because he’s got a lovely summer day right here in front of him.

And honestly, what is beautiful sunny Copenhagen compared to this warmth of the two people he loves the most?

“Alright, alright. You want a refresher? Come here.”

You gingerly take the place next to him, arms crossed so as to not invade his space. Neither of you say anything when your shoulders brush against each other. It’s brief, painstakingly so, but eerily familiar. You wouldn’t admit that you want to stay pressed against him a little longer, but… you do.

“Okay, so. You see this bit right here?” His finger runs up the line where the blade flattens into the edge. “Rest the knife on the stone on this angle, start from the heel—near the handle— and just… bring it in,” he demonstrates the inward sliding motion—short and precise and repetitive, “and work your way up to the tip.”

You silently watch him work for a moment, handling the knife. Firm and steady, but not harsh. On the contrary, it’s almost… delicate. You’ve seen many chefs work in your lifetime, but no one is as composed or stoic (or handsome, but that is beside the point) as Luca. It’s quite fascinating. 

“And you do this on both sides, right?” You vaguely recall.

“Good memory.” He nods appreciatively. “Some people like to do each side one at a time, back and forth, but I like to do one side, get that burr forming…”

“What’s a burr, sir?”

Luca chuckles at your little Hamilton reference. “So when you work on this side, you’ll feel a nice little rough bit forming on the other side like this.” He slides his thumb from the knife’s spine to the edge and carefully guides your hand through the motion. “Feel that?“

Yes. That should be an easy enough answer, because yes, you do feel the rough edge of the excess metal on the blade. But it’s a bit hard to focus on that when you’re more fixated on the rough calluses of his fingertips instead…

In theory, playing a knife with your almost ex-husband is as bad as a bad idea can get. In practice, though… Having your hand in his again, feeling him so close to you, smelling his perfume…

“That’s the burr. Once you get it on one side, you can switch over to the other side and balance it out.” His voice is lower now. Softer. “And you just… do it over and over again until you’ve worked off the burr and have a smooth and sharp blade.”

Luca switches the knife to your other hand and stands behind you, hoping to God you can’t feel his pounding heart as his chest presses against your back. Gently guiding you through the sharpening motion—the firm, steady, angled scraping of the blade towards you. You swear to God, every pull brings him just a tad closer.

“So you basically have to break the knife a little to fix it?” 

“That’s basically it, yeah.”

The storm feels miles away. His hands are still curled against yours. His chest flush against your back. His body heat emanates from within him and shrouds you like your favorite cardigan.

“Listen, I—”

“Thanks… for the refresher.” And with that, you put the knife down on the kitchen rag and pull away.

It takes him an extra second to snap out of it and step back to make way for you as you retreat back into your bedroom. “Yeah, yeah. No problem.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck your fucking life to hell.

***

if you've reached the end of this page, thank you so much for reading! do tell me what you think, reblog, send me asks, thoughts, ANYTHING. i would LOVE to hear your opinion!!!

[pantherxrogers]

You’re #1 to Me - Luca x Reader One-Shot (18+ ONLY)

Content warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY, explicit language, and sexual content

Summary: The reader and Luca are in an established relationship. Luca comes home after finding out he isn’t the actually best chef (based on the conversation in episode 4 w/ Marcus). The reader is determined to lend him a HAND 🤗

A/N: Did I just write smut about a character with less than 10 minutes of screentime?! MAYBE YES!! 😛 I’ve been extremely down bad for Will Poulter recently 😭 also,,, @wakandamama ‘s Sydney x Carmy fics are inspiring me to write more! Here’s a one-shot for my favorite baker! <3

“Babe, he’s like....really good,” Luca murmurs into the quiet air of your shared apartment.

“Yeah, but so are you.” Your confidence in him is slowly soothing the ache in his chest. 

“It’s just…he’s like..” He can feel the words slipping from his brain, the steady feeling of your fingers against his scalp lulling him into a relaxed state.

The pair of you are tangled together on the couch, you’re halfway on his lap while he rests his head against the back cushion. The smooth column of his necks calls out to you, tempting and waiting. His eyelids flutter involuntarily, when he feels the soft kiss you place there.

“He’s like…what?” You breath against his neck, pulling him away from the noise in his head. The silence stretches between the two of you, Luca’s uncertainty stirring up inside of him.

“Because, I say,” you whisper into his ear, “you’re still number one to me.”

Your arm drapes loosely around his shoulder now, nestling further into his side. His strong arm acts as a cradle, pulling you in, before he meets your eyes.

The sadness in his eyes has given way to something else, and it causes a warm tingle to flood your body. The tension has shifted now, and it’s much more welcome this time.

“Come here,” his voice is firm, but gentle when he turns to give you his full attention. Leaning in, his lips are tentative against your own. This kiss is soft and light, but it still makes your tummy flutter. The insecurity that he’s been feeling at work weighs him down. Luckily, you know what he needs in this moment.

The intensity of your lips against his own brings him back into the moment. While he might not feel like the best chef in the world, he’ll be damned if he can’t help you feel as good as possible.

Deepening the kiss, he eases his hands onto your hips, bringing you to his lap in one fluid motion. The sudden change of pace leaves you breathless, giggling into the kiss when your lips meet again.

He breaks the kiss, only to softly nip at your neck, teasing you until he gets to the spot that makes you let out a soft moan.

Your hips softly rock against his own, the thin pajamas pants making it much easier for you to feel the growing tent in his pants. Wandering hands knead against the plush of your ass, his hips lazily grinding upwards.

When you bury your face in his neck, you’re met with the lingering smell of sugar that clings to him. The scent overwhelms you, driving your need to be even closer. All you can focus on is making him forget about his stress.

Your hands trail down, slowly lifting his shirt over his head, revealing the tanned skin beneath it. You can’t help but trail your hands over the defined muscle, his eyes following your motion.

“Luca,” your soft voice grabs his attention. He’s in a trance, the soft lighting of your shared apartment makes your beauty feel unbearable.  It’s only when you softly smirk at him that he’s prompted to respond.

“Yes, love?” The raspiness of his voice makes you tug on your lip, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by your lover. His hands have slipped into your bottoms, toying with the string of your thong.

“I want to make you feel good, is that okay?” His answering groan makes your heart race, “You know you don’t have to ask me that,” he grunts, tugging you back in for a kiss.

His lips are urgent against your own, the smooth glide of his tongue causing a stir in your belly. You blindly reach down to loosen his belt buckle. The kiss breaks, only for a moment, so you can look down to lower the band of his sweats.

His lips frantically reconnect with yours, eager to be close to you. Each swipe of your tongue against his own is making him harder, the thin boxers doing little to conceal him. He jumps a little when you reach your hand down to stroke him through the fabric.

“Hmm, fuck,” he sighs, the gentle touch of your hand causes his hips to stutter. You ease off of his lap, sitting on your knees next to him, needing more space for what you’re about to do.

In a swift motion, you’re rolling down his boxers, causing him to hiss as the cool air meets his hard cock. He glances over as you reach up to wet the palm of your hand, the lewd act making him twitch.

When your soft hand wraps around his base, Luca swears he might pass out. You stroke him from the base to the tip, causing precum to leak onto your hand. He lets out a loud moan when when find a steady rhythm. He’s thick and warm in your hand, turning you on even more.

“Does that feel good baby, hmm?” You tease him, his hips bucking up to chase the relief.

“Yes, fuck, f-feels good,” he moans out, his hand reaching around to grip your lower back, grounding himself. You’re leaning into him, pressing kisses against his neck, then softly sucking on the skin. Your hand slows against him, toying with his tip.

“I can tell, baby, you’re making a mess all over my hand,” you breathe out, loving the way his cock twitches as you tease him.

“C-can’t help it, you feel so good,” he whines out, trying to keep his hips still. Your other hand comes up to softly tug at his balls, making him lose his composure.

He lets out a curse as he throws his head against the back of the couch, his hips bucking against your hand.

“It’s okay, baby, you can come for me,” the warmth in your voice engulfs him, causing him to release all over your hand.

His chest slows as he comes down from his high, muscles slowly relaxing further into the couch. You retract your hand, reaching for his shirt to clean him off before gently tucking him back into his boxers.

The soft presses of your lips against his cheeks bring him back down to Earth, his eyes finding yours without fail.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Both of you feel shy, the redness in his cheeks makes your heart swell.

His blonde hair is messy now, adding to the boyish look on his face. His eyelids droop now, the knowledge that you’ve fully relaxed him causing a genuine smile to spread across your face.

The rest of the night is spent in both of your favorite ways, tangled together, listening to the lull of the other’s heartbeat.

................................................................................................................................

Tagging my fellow The Bear enthusiasts 🥳 (let me know if you want to be added/removed):

@wakandama2​ @blowmymbackout​ ​ @kdoxkeic 

[clemanime]

Sweets

MINORS DNI

A/N: I know its been.. an unspecified amount of time but I can explain! (I can't actually) Have this and an apology (It's gonna happen again) See you next time. Muchos besos!

Description: Unnamed Fem!Reader and Luca have history. One-sided but still history.

Warning: Smut, Fluff, Confession, Vaginal penetration (ooh spoicy), breeding (unintentionally), Vaginal fingering, Wirty dords and phrases, and this man Luca himself (he is a little too fine in this one, makes me feral)

“You guys are going to Copenhagen.” Sydney said as she looked at the both of them while leaning against the counter that was just put into the kitchen. There was chaos around them, walls being put up and others being knocked down. The Bear was set to open and it seemed like one thing right after the other decided to go wrong.

“What’s in Copenhagen?” She stepped forward, standing next to Marcus. Her braids pulled back out of her face as she put her hands in her jacket pocket.

“Uh… I don’t know. An old friend of Carmy.” Her heart raced as she thought of the only other person that he would consider a friend that also lived in a different country.

“Can I decline?” She asked quickly, both Sydney and Marcus looking at her.

“What?”

“Why?” Marcus and Sydney spoke in unison.

“I just… don’t think I should go.” She looked between them.

“Why? What do you have going on that you can’t go?”

“My cat…”

“I’ll take care of him.” Sydney said quickly, dispelling the only excuse she had.

“You don’t have a reason not to go.” Marcus said as he crossed his arms. It was true, there really wasn’t a reason not to go. Aside from being in the same kitchen as Luca. She looked at the both of them before letting out a heavy sigh.

“You can stay at my apartment to take care of him.”

“You’re going?” Sydney questioned excitedly.

“Yeah.”

Upon their arrival in Copenhagen, they took in as much of the city as they could. The both of them, making sure to take a bunch of pictures and stopping at different bakeries to look at their displays on the way to their new temporary home. It was a first for both of them when they got onto the boat, her room towards the front while Marcus got to sleep in the level above the kitchen area. “We’ve gotta leave water out.” He said from his spot in front of the table. Marcus silently reread the note in his hand as she approached him to look over at the paper.

“For who?”

“A cat or something.” He shrugged, the pair looking back at the empty water bowl on the floor.

“Okay.” She patted his shoulder. “You got it.” The pair laughed before separating to get settled for the night.

The next day they woke up before daybreak, both alarms blaring and making sure they actually got up. She found herself already distracted while getting ready for their first day. She wondered what he looked like now. Whether he looked any different. “Of course he probably does.” She grumbled to herself with a mouth full of toothpaste. She was broken from her thoughts when there was a rapid knock on the bathroom door. “Hey, we’re gonna be late if you take long.”

“My bad!” She finished up quickly then finished getting dressed.

The pair set off to the restaurant, walking in silence for a moment before Marcus spoke up. “Man..” He began. “I’m excited.” He looked ahead, his hands in the pockets of his parka. “Did you ever think that you’d be here?”

“Not really.” She responded, her hands in her pockets as well. “I thought I’d be in my own bakery by now to be fair.”

“Yeah?” He smiled. “Maybe once Carmy gets his shit together, you can get started.”

“If Carmy got his shit together.” The pair laughed.

The walk was filled with conversation and laughter but at the back of her mind, she was still wondering about Luca. The closer they got the more her heart pounded, her hands becoming a little clammy. She stopped walking when they came to the employee entrance of the Restaurant, her eyes on the door handle. Marcus stopped next to her, looking between her and the door. “Everything good?”

“Yeah.. um.. you head in first, I’m gonna call Sydney to check on Butters.” She mumbled out a lie as she pulled her phone out.

“You’re a bad liar.. but okay.” He nodded before entering first.

She needed to compose herself. It had been a long time and she had thoroughly convinced herself she was fine. That she was over it. “He might not be in today.. he might not even remember you and it’ll be fine.” She began to pace to help with calming her nerves but it didn’t work. Talking to herself didn’t work. “It’s been years. You’re not a child.” She sighed and looked at the door handle again, still unable to bring herself to enter.

“If you’re not goin’ in, mind if I get by?” She froze, looking back at him as if she had been caught stealing. “Oh..” His shocked expression told him that Carmy didn’t tell him about her arrival. And that he recognized her. “Are you here to learn?”

“Yeah.. I came with Marcus.” She cleared her throat. “Well not with Marcus but I traveled here with him.” She stepped away from the door so he could go in.

“It’s good to see you.” He pulled the door open for her, grinning at her. “Comin’ in?” She nodded before she stepped inside first, mumbling a thank you before heading straight to the back to get changed.

Once she finished, she went to join them, standing in the background and keeping her head down as she listened to Luca’s instructions. He had her working on whipping cream. A feat that she had tried to concur years ago but gave up on. She had deemed her arch-nemesis. Luca placed a chilled bowl, a carton of heavy whipping cream, sugar, and a whisk at her station. He stood beside her as he began to explain what she needed to do as if she didn’t already know. She mumbled a ‘Yes Chef’ to him before she began.

She began slowly, her eyes on the liquid in the bowl she had begun to whisk together. She remembered the first time she worked with Luca. His attitude towards his craft and others was a stark difference in comparison to each other. He had been arrogant and cocky when they worked together but no matter how rude he’d gotten, she continued to be nice. She wasn’t sure when the feelings for him started.

“Hey. What are you doing?” Luca questioned as he looked at her while she stood at his station.

“Chopping.” She responded in her usual happy tone. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Do I look like I need your help?” He stepped forward, his face turning red with annoyance and frustration. “Put the knife down and go away.”

“You don’t have to be mean about it.” She furrowed her brows.

“Whateva’.” He rolled his eyes. “Just find something else to do.”

“Fine.” She scoffed. She began to work on her own tasks, humming softly. She winced in pain and dropped her knife on the floor, tears welling up in her eyes at the sting from her finger. “Shit..” She walked towards the back, Luca watching her carefully before he went to follow her.

“Nearly chopped your finger off?”

“Yeah.” She answered honestly. “I got distracted…” She bit the back of her other hand as she ran water over it. “It’s so stupid.”

“Here.” He reached for her injured hand and looked at the cut. “No stitches. Which is good. Let me grab the first aid kit.” He walked away, leaving her to her thoughts. Once he came back, he had the red box in his hand and began to clean her cut properly before gently placing a bandage and a cover over it. “Be careful next time. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She looked at him and smiled, Luca staring at her for a moment before letting her hand go and returning to what he was previously doing.

In the time following that, she found herself trying to talk to him more. She would continue to smile at him and greet him, secretly doing prep for him after she finished her so that he would have somewhat of an easy day. At first, Luca wasn’t receptive to her enthusiasm but slowly warmed up to her. Her random questions or statements added to her charm. The way she would continuously hum throughout the day or scurry off the few times he caught her doing his prep. She grew on him and when he had to leave, it was like he was losing the best friend he cherished with his entire being.

“You overdid it.” Luca pointed out as he looked over her shoulder and yanked her from her thoughts. “Try again.”

Her apron was stained and the cream had become lumpy. She stared at it, her hands on her hips as her frustrations grew. “Can I just fix this batch?” She looked at him. “Or turn it into butter?”

“You could... but this is the third time you’ve tried to fix it.” His voice was stern but she knew he wasn’t upset. She hadn’t even realized what she was doing, her thoughts seemingly consuming her. “You’re out of heavy cream and you’ve made way more than we need.”

“What?” She looked down at the bowl. “Shit.”

“Do you know where you went wrong?” He questioned, seemingly knowing what was going on with her.

“I got distracted..” She sighed.

“Start over.” He made a move to walk away but her words made him pause.

“Can I move on to something else?” She asked before he could fully walk off. “You know my hatred for whipped cream.”

“No.” He crossed his tattooed arms, his biceps more defined as he did. “There’s more cream in the walk in.” He turned and walked away from her, leaving her to her own thoughts. She let her head hang before going towards the walk in.

She walked into the walk-in freezer, chewing on her bottom lip as she looked for all the items she needed. The door opened and Luca walked in, easily grabbing everything he needed and pausing when he realized how confused she looked. “What do you need?”

“Cream.” She looked around again before whipping around to face him and nearly colliding with his chest. She swallowed hard before pursing her lips and looking up at him as he reached to grab the cream from the top shelf. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” He responded. “Cleaning the walk-in always seems to confuse someone around here. It’s about time it was you.” He smirked before walking out. She shivered, the chill combating against her heating body.

“Get it together…” She exhaled and walked out.

The day had gone by a little too quickly and she was still standing at her station trying to get the whipped cream right. “Hey, do you want me to wait for you?” Marcus asked, his bag on his back as he walked towards her.

“No. It’s fine. I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t get this.” She smiled gently. “You go ahead and get some rest.”

“Alright. If you’re sure.” He held his fist up, the duo fist bumping to confirm that it was fine for him to head out on his own.

She focused on whipping the cream, her eyes down and her head seemingly trying her hardest to empty as her hands moved more delicately once it was at the consistency she wanted. She stepped back and sighed, putting her hands on her hips and taking in the mess she now needed to clean up. “Lucky for you, we had back up to go through.” Luca said, seemingly just appearing behind her again. She jumped, quickly turning to face him.

“Sorry.” She looked down.

“No one’s gonna take your head off.” He walked towards her, looking over the mess. “You’ve got it and that’s all that counts.” He crossed his arms, an action that began to find enticing to look at. The muscles of his biceps and forearms were more prominent, his tattoos grabbing her attention as well as the veins that seemed to pop out. Her eyes followed them before she forced herself to look into his eyes. She swallowed the lump that had decided to settle in her throat as she wondered if he caught her staring so openly. “How’ve things been?” It was an out of the blue question. But he was genuinely curious. He hadn’t seen nor spoke to her in years, same with Carmy.

She turned back around, beginning to clean up. “Oh.. you know.. it’s the usual with Carmy. He’s being a bit ambitious as always.”

“I don’t mean with Carmy.” He spoke low, almost upset that that was what she assumed he meant. She turned around with some of the now empty dirty bowls. “I meant with you.” He clarified as they stared at each other in silence before she spoke again.

“Uh.. well nothing really changed since last we saw each other.” She responded. “I’ve got a cat now. He’s pretty sweet and super cuddly.”

“Hm.” He nodded, leaning against the counter across from her. “So.. no bakery then?” She smiled and shook her head, putting the bowl down.

“The bakery wasn’t in my plans for a long time now.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t really think it was worth it anymore.”

“It would have been.” He reassured her. “Your whipped cream would have been for shit either way but you can work around that.” They both laughed in unison, standing in a comfortable silence afterwards. “But I’m sure with you running it, Sweets Bakery would have been the talk of the year.”

“I can’t believe you remember the name.”

“How could I forget?” He questioned her.

“It’s such a stupid name.” She mumbled.

“I would say that. I think the name made sense.”

“Really?”

“Yeah..  from what I remember, you were always sweet.” Luca rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at her.

“What?” She looked at him in confusion, her brows furrowing. His chuckle sounded like a low rumble as he shook his head.

“You were always sweet.” He repeated in the same octave. “Making sure everything was at my station, double cleaning duty, taking the blame for everything even if you didn’t do it.” He let out a sigh. “I thought you were stupid for it but honestly I grew fond of it. It was cute seein’ your face light up when I finished somethin’ even though you’ve seen it a million times.” He crossed his arms as he looked at her, his head leaning to side slightly as if reliving a memory he had. “I’m sorry I left like that. I know things were a lot easier because of the flow. But when I got the offer, I had to take it.”

“I wasn’t upset because of the offer you got.” She sighed, her eyes down. “And you don’t have to apologize for that. You don’t owe me anything.” She finally looked at him, smiling gently but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It was stupid. I- you..” She found it difficult forming a sentence. “God it’s so stupid.” She stood up straight as she shook her head. The feelings she had before hadn’t died fully it seems. Seeing him again had started a metaphorical fire that made her feel like she was stepping back into the pass. “I.. enjoyed working with you.” She began, taking him by surprise. “But it was difficult and I couldn’t focus because of you. Most of my major fuck ups was because I was too busy thinking about you. I couldn’t think around you and all I could smell was your stupid cologne and see your hands?” She sighed, wanting to scream in frustration. His eyes stared at her with an undetermined intent. She felt as if she were going to lose her mind the longer she was around him. Those feelings she had fought so hard to forget building more and more the longer she was alone with him. “I hate you.” She sighed. “No. That’s a lie. I’m crazy about you. It’s frustrating. It’s…” She watched as he stood, closing the short distance between them. “Reject me.” She stepped back, bumping into the metal table she had yet to clean. “Reject me so I can take my heart ache and leave.”

Luca’s calloused hand moved to cup the side of her head, its warmth radiating against the area behind her ear. “Reject me Luca.” She took in a breath and she held up, looking up at him through her lashes. “Please Luca…”

“I can’t reject you.” He mumbled as he leaned in, swallowing thickly. “I’d be a fuckin’ idiot if I did.” As if a net keeping all of her ability to resist was cut open, she melted against him. One of her hands rested against his toned bicep as the other held the wrist of the hand that was holding her head. He pulled her flush against him, making her head swim. Their kiss grew heavier, their lips dancing against one another but he ultimately had taken the lead.

She looked down as she tried to catch her breath, Luca’s breath fanning forehead as his thumb gently rubbed against the skin behind her ear. She finally looked up at him, hoping that he couldn’t hear the way her heart thundered against her ribs. “I’ve dreamt of doing that for a while.” She mumbled, a smile forming on both of their lips.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one.” He huffed, leaning in to feel her plump lips against his again. “So soft..” He kissed her again. “So sweet.” His large hand moved towards her lower back, causing her to shiver against his touch. She pressed her face into his chest as she involuntarily arched against him. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“No.” She responds, looking at him. “Don’t stop.”

“Fuck..” He sighed. “And you say I’m the frustrating one?”

“Luca?”

“Hm?”

“Can we go.. back to your place? I have to share a boat with Marcus and it would be really awkward if you walked in with me.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, his breaths growing heavier. “Because if you come back to my place, I won’t wanna leave in the mornin’.” She nodded a little too quickly, a smile forming on his lips. “Alright.”

Luca’s apartment wasn’t too far from the Restaurant. It was larger than she expected, the decor minimalistic and neutral. Though the sun had already set, the view outside had still been beautiful. He tossed his keys on the island as they passed the kitchen, his eyes still on her as she admired his home. She looked back at him, noticing the darkening look in his eyes as he slowly stalked towards her. She turned to face him fully as she stepped back with a smirk forming on his lips. “Are you still sure about this?” He asked as he pulled his hoodie off.

“Yes.” She said softly as she returned his smile.

“One more step and you’ll be in the bedroom.” He pointed out as he stopped walking.

“Oh..” She looked back before meeting his gaze again. “I knew that.” She kept her smile as she took another step back, fully entering the bedroom. Luca felt himself slowly losing his will power as he stared at her. “What’s that look for?” She asked almost innocently.

As if a switch was flipped, Luca pulled his hoodie off with his shirt following suit. His shoes had already been off and at the door with hers. He easily scooped her up and walked her over to the bed. “Maybe you’re not all that sweet.” He grumbled as he looked up at her. He placed her on his bed and sat back on his feet to admire the woman on his bed. “Definitely not all sweet.” He moved to hover over her with a small smile forming on his face.

“What?” She asks curiously.

“You’re breathtakin’.” He leaned forward, kissing her softly. He moved his hands to hold her face, the gentleness slowly intensifying.

When he wasn’t kissing her, he watched her every move. The way her hands slowly removed her shirt and revealed more of her skin to him. She looked embarrassed. Adorable. He thought to himself as he moved in to leave open mouthed kisses on the exposed parts of her body. They were hot but the chill of the air that followed left goosebumps all over.

Her hands found their way into his golden strands when his intense kisses led to where she had created the most heat. She still had her underwear on but the dampened material didn’t leave much to the imagination. “Luca..” She breathed. It came out as a small whine as if pleading for him to do more.

“Yes, sweetness?” He questioned as his breath gently cooled her underwear with each word.

“Don’t.. tease.” She pushed her hips upwards, watching as his eyes darkened. “Please..”

“Say it.” He demanded softly. “What do you want?”

“You. I want you.” She pouted.

“You want me?” He asked as he pressed more open mouth kisses against her heat. “What do you want me to do to you?” His eyes were locked with hers, relishing in her reaction.

“Take them off..” She furrowed her brows in anticipation as his hands moved towards the band of her underwear, the pads of his fingers ghosting over the barrier keeping him from touching her fully as he continued giving her needy cunt sloppy kisses. His tongue licked a strip against her with enough pressure that it sent a jolt through her entire being.

“I don’t think I want to take them off just yet.” He grumbled. One of his hands moved to rest on her pubis and his thumb rubbing lazy circles around her clit while the fingers on his other hand continued to tease her waistband. “Wanna savor the moment.” He mumbled before leaning in to kiss and lick her against her.

Her frustrated moans and whimpers filled the room as he continued to tease and pleasure her through her underwear. Her hand gripped and tugged at his hair, her mind emptying with every minute that passed and her need for physical contact growing at a steady rapid pace.

He enjoyed watching her squirm and writhe though he hadn’t touched her directly. Her underwear, now soaked in her essence and his saliva had become a hindrance to his enjoyment. And when he began to pull the ruined material down, she was all too eager to lift her hips. “Eager bunny.” He chuckled, before returning between her legs. He didn’t waste time tasting her, finally coming to the end of his torture. He let out a low growl as he lapped up her juices greedily. His eyes had been closed, giving her the chance to try and ground herself but when she lifted her head to watch him those captivating eyes had ensnared her again. He moved his hand up her body, slow and with purpose. Her breathing grew heavier as she couldn’t help but watch as his tattooed arms and hands moved. His hands carefully squeezing and kneading her breasts as if she were the mound of dough he had been touching earlier in the day. He pulled her bra down and toyed with them, pinching and tugging on her nipples before rolling them between his fingers. Luca groaned as he enjoyed the way she grew wetter. He had thought about what she would be like in bed. About whether she tasted as good as she looked and he was happy he got the chance. He came to the conclusion that if she’d allowed it, he’d eat her out from sunrise to sunset. But in this very moment, he needed to feel her around his cock more than ever.

Luca pushed himself up, licking his lips as he looked down at the mess he had created between her legs. He pressed the pad of his fingers against her dripping slit, he gathered saliva in his mouth before spitting it out on his index and middle digits. It wasn’t as if she needed it, but fuck was it a sight when he did it. He pressed his fingers deeper and smirked as her walls fluttered around him before fully clenching. “You like the way that feels?”

“Y-yes..” She stopped herself from grabbing his wrist, from touching him in any way even though he hadn’t told her she wasn’t allowed to. He watched the way her thighs shook as she brought her legs up to try and close. “L-Luca.. ah..” He moved closer, gently pushing one of her legs so she could open up for him. She had already been lost in pleasure before and now she found herself slipping back into it. She opened her legs wider as she felt her orgasm slowly building, wanting to chase that high. “I’m gonna..”

“Go ahead, sweetness.” He moved his free hand between her legs, rubbing her clit as he helped her along.

“I-I’m about to..” Her body tensed as the coil tightened in the pit of her stomach. She looked at him as if she were pleading for him to allow her to climax even though he already gave her the go ahead.

“Atta girl.” He leaned towards her, kissing her and swallowing her moans as she gushed around his thick digits. “Cum for me.” Luca hummed as she tightened and fluttered. He positioned himself between her legs, wiping the cum on his fingers against the tip of his cock. “Can I?” He asked, the head of his thick cock resting against her entrance. She leaned up on her elbows the best she could, nodding. “Say it for me.” He held the back of her head as he looked into her eyes again. He could get lost in them so easily, would do anything she requested if she looked him in the eyes. He moved closer.

“Please put it in.” She said softly. “I want to feel you inside.” She gasped when he pushed into her, the initial stretch incomparable to his fingers.

He was gentle with her, working his way inside before he bottomed out. He pulled himself out and silently shook his head before pushing back in. “Fuck~” Luca bit his bottom lip as he pushed deeper before pulling out again. “Why do you feel this good?” His question was rhetorical but she still shrugged in response and earned a chuckle. “And you’re cute.” Luca set a steady deep pace as he tried to keep himself from getting lost in her. His head spun as his need grew, making it a difficult feat. She moaned beneath him, her hands gripping the duvet. He grabbed the backs of her knees and closed her legs, sighing at the change in feeling. He placed her ankles on his shoulder, kissing the side of her calf as his pace changed. He bit his bottom lip as he watched the way her tits bounced with each of his thrusts. He cupped her cheek then pressed his thumb against her soft lips. She sucked on it, gently biting it as she stared up at him. Fuck.. He felt as if he could cum if he continued to stare at the beautiful woman beneath him. Her walls fluttered around him when he changed his angle. “Luca..” She drew out a needy whine. “There..” She gasped when he hit the same spot again. “R-Right there.”

“There?” He questioned with a smirk. “What’ll happen right there baby?” He asked, quickening his pace.

“L-Luca I’m…” Her orgasm rippled through her when he rubbed her clit again, tight circles with pressure that drove her crazy. She arched and writhed beneath him as the extra stimulation made it too much for her. She grabbed his wrist as she tried to push him away, whimpering weakly.

“Not yet.” He grabbed her wrist and pinned it against her underbelly as he continued to fuck her. She continued to try and push his hand away as tears began to well up in her eyes. “Just a little longer.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers as he kept his pace. “Where can I-” She wrapped herself around him without thinking, biting his shoulder when he let out a low bellow that vibrated from his chest to hers. His hips snapping forward as his hot cum shot inside her. Luca plops down on top of her, his face against her chest as they both catch their breaths.

They laid there in silence, Luca’s eyes closed as she stared up at the ceiling in silence. His thumb gently rubbed against her waistline. He slowly pushed up to get off of her but she wrapped her arms around him to stop him. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, looking at her with slight worry in his eyes.

“I don’t want to let go yet.” She mumbled, her eyes still on the ceiling. She mentally cursed herself for how clingy she became. But she worried that if she did let him go, she’d be back at square one.

“How about..” He moved to sit up, able to get out of her hold. “We shower and then get some sleep?” He easily moved off the bed, holding his hand out for her to take. They smiled at each other when she took it. He easily picked her up and walked into the bathroom.

She walked into the restaurant first, thanking Luca as he held the door open for her. She went straight to the back to get changed before heading to her station. “Hey, good morning Chef.” Marcus said as he moved a bag of flour to a different table.

“Good morning Chef.” She cleared her throat, tying her apron around her waist.

“Hey.. I don’t wanna be weird or anything but you didn’t come back to the boat last night.” He spoke low, leaning forward a little.

“Yeah.” She nodded, smiling to herself as she tried to keep her eyes on the task in front of her rather than giving in to the urge to watch Luca.

“Are you okay?” He questioned, still curious.

“Yeah. Just needed to take care of some things.” She smiled at him, her eyes locking with Luca as he easily picked up a heavy bag of flour and placed it on the counter. He looked over at her, a small smirk forming on his lips before he focused on what he had been doing.

“Aah.. take care of some things. Okay.” He repeated, laughing to himself. She shoved him away as she tried to hide the embarrassment that tried to settle.

“I’m not about to play with you.” She laughed to herself before going back to prepping her station.

“Think you can handle the cream for today too, Chef?” Luca asked as he placed heavy whipping cream next to her along with a chilled metal bowl.

“Yes, Chef.” She nodded as she tried to keep herself composed when his hand gently brushed against hers.

“When you’re finished, help Marcus with the dough.”

“You got it, Chef.” She poured the cream into the chilled bowl and began to work.

“What are you doin’ tonight?” He asked softly, crossing his arms. She looked at him, unable to hide the excitement in her eyes.

“Probably catching up on sleep.” He grinned and crossed his arms.

“How do you feel about me making you dinner tonight?”

“Sure.” She tried to sound nonchalant but couldn’t help herself. “I’ll have to tell Marcus I’m not going to the boat tonight.”

“You’re staying on a boat?” He questioned, his eyebrow peaked in curiosity.

“Yeah.”

Luca watched as she turned her attention back to the whipping cream, his eyes lingering on the hickey peeking out from under her collar. Maybe instead of actual food, she’d allow him to have his fill off of her.