French Are Cooks (FrancexReader Oneshot)

You watched with bright eyes as the spontaneous, romantic, Frenchman in front of your cut up a strawberry with ease. You watched the flow of his hand and how easily it seemed he was doing such a thing. For you, it was the complete opposite. You were so messy when chopping up anything; it was purely pitiful compared to Francis' cooking style.

But, then the unexpected happened. With a missconcepted move, Francis' pricked his finger with the sharp object used for cutting. "Merde [1]…" He grumbled as he brought the finger to his lips. As if he were doing it to tantalize you, his lips wrapped around his finger in one of the sultriest ways.

Licking off the blood that had managed to come out of his long finger, he looked to you with a smile, some of his hair coming out of the little pony tail at the base of his neck. "I can't possibly finish this while bleeding. Ma chere [2], why don't you finish?"

You looked at him with wide eyes. "I c-couldn't possibly do that Francis."

"Why not, chere?" He replied, while holding up the knife for you to take.

You grumbled something incoherent before swiftly reaching up and grabbing the knife. Looking at the silvery object, you turned around to face the kitchen counter. Francis watched with a sparked interest as you took a strawberry into your fingers, sat it down gently, before cutting up the sensual red fruit. Red juice spilled out of the fruit, landing tauntingly on your hand.

How beautiful. Francis thought as he smiled dirty before leaving your presence.

You looked up and let a large breath leave your lips. Glad that the cook was no longer by your side, you looked around the kitchen. Eyes landing on the box of strawberries, you swiftly picked one of them up and pressed it to your lips. Taking in a nibble of the fruit, an arm was suddenly engulfing your waist. You stuttered before looking back with wide eyes.

"You aren't supposed to eat what you're going to use for the dessert ma chere." A French accent pierced your ears and made the situation much more erotic than it needed to be. His face was suddenly next to yours, his arm around yours as he suddenly turned you around. You looked at him with widened eyes as he leaned down and licked juice from your chin to your lips.

You had failed to notice that there was even juice there. How embarrassing, you thought as the Frenchman pressed your closer to him, his tongue still playing with your lips. It was then that he took utter action and pressed his lips to yours.  The feeling of his stubbles on his chin made you giggle a bit, but you quickly got over it as he pressed on harder, and angled so he could get the kiss to be much deeper.

Dug between the kitchen counter and the body in front of you, you saw no other action than pushing yourself up so you could sit your little bum upon the counter. Already, Francis' hands were running under your shirt so he could touch the smooth, creamy flesh of your navel and torso. He pulled away with a heated huff of breath as he looked down at you with thick blond eye lashes.

He smiled softly as he noticed the small blush that had made itself known on your face. You were too adorable, he thought as he quickly put his lips back to yours for a brief moment.  He pulled away before you could settle into the kiss. You complained with a whimper but it only made he smile even more.

"Ma chere…" He whispered heatedly as he began nibbling down your neck. His hot hands had your shirt half way off by the time he managed to tell you in a sultry, accented voice, "Je veux manger votre pour le dessert.[3]"



1-Damn it.
2-My dear.
3-I want to eat you for dessert.