#but they make up over cooking a nice meal together

[rositaslabyrinth]

V-day - Beau A

Beau Arlen x fem!reader

Content warnings : smut, fluff, kissing, making out, pet names, any typical stuff you’d find in smut

You and Beau spend valentines together, for the first time <3

Word count ; 1,191

Minors please do not interact!!!

The smell of grilled steak lingers in Beau’s kitchen, mixing with the faint scent of his cologne and the warmth of the fire crackling in the nearby living room. It’s cozy here—comfortable in a way that feels a little too easy, a little too natural. Like you belong.

You’re perched on one of the stools at the counter, watching as Beau dries the last of the dishes, his broad shoulders stretching under the fabric of his henley. He glances over his shoulder at you, smirking when he catches you staring.

“You good over there, darlin’?”

Heat creeps up your neck, but you refuse to look away. “Yeah. Just enjoying the view.”

He huffs out a chuckle, shaking his head, but there’s a hint of pink on his cheeks when he turns back around. You’ve always danced around this thing between you—long looks, teasing words, moments that linger just a second too long. But tonight, something feels different. He’s watching you more closely, like he’s trying to figure something out. Like he’s waiting.

You clear your throat, trying to ease the tension curling in your stomach. “Didn’t think you were the Valentine’s Day type, Sheriff.”

Beau sets the towel down, leaning against the counter with a lopsided grin. “I ain’t. But I figured you deserved somethin’ nice. A home-cooked meal, good company…” His gaze dips, slow and deliberate. “Thought maybe I’d get lucky and keep you here a little longer.”

Your breath catches. It’s not like him to be this direct—not without a joke to cushion it. But there’s no teasing in his expression now, no easy smirk to hide behind. Just Beau, open and waiting.

“I think you already got lucky,” you murmur, heart hammering.

Something shifts in the air between you. The next thing you know, Beau is rounding the counter, standing close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. His fingers brush against your thigh where your dress has ridden up, testing, hesitant.

“Tell me if this ain’t what you want,” he murmurs, voice lower now, rougher.

You swallow hard, shaking your head. “It is.”

That’s all he needs.

His lips crash into yours, warm and demanding, tasting faintly of whiskey and something undeniably him. His hands are careful at first, palms skimming over your sides like he’s memorizing the feel of you. But when you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug, he groans, deep and low, and that’s when the control snaps.

Before you know it, he’s lifting you into his arms, carrying you down the hall with ease. The moment your back hits the mattress, he’s on you again, pressing kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, over every inch of skin he can reach.

“Been wanting you like this for a long time, sweetheart,” he admits, voice thick with need.

Your fingers trace the line of his jaw, anchoring him to you. “Then take me, Beau.”

And he does—slow and thorough, like he’s got all the time in the world to make you his. He pulls the dress up and off of you with ease, “look at you” he murmurs softly, his eyes gliding over the exposed skin. “Look so pretty, baby.”

Those words cause a shiver to go down your spine as he starts to remove his clothes, once everything fell to the floor on a pile Beau moves over you with a reverence that makes your heart stutter, his touch slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every inch of you. His calloused fingers trace a path down your bare skin, sending shivers in their wake, his touch both gentle and possessive. He watches you as he moves, his eyes dark with something deeper than just desire.

His lips brushing against your jaw, your cheek, your lips—anywhere he can reach.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging him closer until there’s barely any space between you.

A soft groan rumbles in his chest as he kisses you again, deeper this time, his tongue sweeping against yours, slow and sensual. His weight presses into you, warm and solid, anchoring you beneath him. He’s not in a hurry—he’s taking his time, dragging this out, making you feel everything.

His hands slide down, gripping your thighs, spreading you open beneath him. “Damn, sweetheart,” he mutters against your skin, his voice thick, almost strained. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

You whimper as his lips follow the path his hands take, exploring every part of you with a tenderness that borders on worship. He makes sure to make eye contact with you as he slides his tongue into the wetness between your thighs. The groan that escapes his lips matches your gasp, his hands digging into your thighs.

You were seeing stars, as he sucked on your wet folds like he was starving, like he didn’t just eat a huge meal he had prepared for you both.

When he pulls away you could feel the cool air hit you causing a whine to escape your lips. “I know, I know honey” Beau soothes you while kissing back up your chest until he’s fully covering you again. You grabbing at his shoulders, arms, back whatever you could reach so that you two could be connected again. “Are you sure?” Beau asks you, staring down at you with those beautiful green eyes. “God yes”, you gasp out, pulling him down to kiss you.

When he finally presses against you, skin to skin, you both let out matching gasps, the sensation overwhelming, electric.

Beau stills for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breath heavy and warm against your lips. “I want this to be good for you. Tell me what you need.”

Your hands roam over his broad back, nails digging in slightly as you whisper, “Just you. All of you.”

And when he finally gives in, when the last bit of distance disappears, it’s more than just physical—it’s raw, consuming, like every unspoken feeling between you has found its place. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, and he responds with soft murmurs of your name, his voice reverent, full of something that feels dangerously close to love.

He moves with deliberate care, like he’s learning you, memorizing the way you fit together. His hands stay on you, gripping, soothing, his lips pressing against your skin between breathless groans. And when you finally reach that peak, unraveling beneath him, he follows, burying his face in your neck, holding you like he never wants to let go.

For a long moment, neither of you move, tangled together in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, your breaths evening out as you come down from the high. Beau finally shifts, brushing damp strands of hair from your face before pressing the softest kiss to your forehead.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice still laced with affection and exhaustion.

You smile, tracing lazy patterns over his bare shoulder. “Best one yet.”

He grins against your skin, pulling you closer. “Hope you’re ready for a whole lot more of ‘em.”

And as you drift off in his arms, you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Okay guys first smut technically hsisndsosjso please be nice😭😭

Tags!! ; @velvetdandeli0n @deansbbyx @star-yawnznn

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Thirty Six)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Thirty Six: Christmas Eve brings a family together - even in the fractured Murphy family, it feels warm if still a little tense. Cillian adjusts to being home and the stresses he's been absorbing since finishing filming, and Y/N tries hard for Cillian and the boys to have a nice time as a family. [Mild angst/Mild anxiety/Family bonding/Tame sexual references]

@meadowshelby @strangeions @borntodiemp3 @lavender-haze-01 @watermeezer @cherry-cilly @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme

----------

“Love, what time are the boys coming- definitely two, yeah?” You call out, crouched in front of the oven as you search for the larger roasting pan. “Cill? What time?” You repeat, when you stand up with the pan in hand and still haven't received his reply. He isn't even far away - sitting behind you at the island with the laptop, replying to a throng of emails. It's Christmas Eve and you're keen to have everything prepared so that dinner can be ready for the boys’ arrival. 

“Hmm?” You finally responds, peering over his glasses at you as you let the pan drop onto the counter by the hob with a clatter. 

“The boys, what time are you coming? It's definitely two?” you raise your eyebrows as he looks through you. 

“Oh…um, yeah. Two…” he says absently, nodding his head, and turns his face back to the screen. 

“What's so important?” You ask, walking slowly towards him. You move up behind him on the stool and wrap your arms around him, wedge under his arms, and settle both of your hands against his belly. “You've been here half an hour and you're getting grumpier by the minute.” You rest your chin against his right shoulder lightly. 

He reaches back his right hand and lightly touches the side of your head, “Ah nothing - just sorting out dates for January. I've to be in Galway, and I've some things to keep up with Steven. Just trying to make sure none of the dates clash over your scan date, or whatever.” He draws back his hand and cups it under his chin, elbow resting on the island counter. 

“Love, it's Christmas Eve, your sons are coming for dinner, and nobody else is working. Close the laptop, help me cook, and please for the love of God, go and pick up the cigarette butts out of that flower pot by the back door.” You turn your face and kiss against his cheek. His plan to stop smoking again had lasted until a day after telling the boys and Yvonne about the baby, and while you weren't going to pester him to stop - knowing he'd do it again in his time - you weren't going to turn your back garden into a pub smoking area. 

“Ah, shit, sorry,” he tuts. “I'll do it in a minute there, let me just get these dates lined up, yeah?” As you stand up and move away, he grabs for your hand and squeezes your fingers gently. “I'll do it.” He promises as you look back at him again, “And then I'll help finish off the dinner, alright?” 

You feel like you've annoyed him, asking for his help, but you don't know why you feel it - or why he sounds annoyed - when this meal is for him to have a Christmas dinner with his kids. You draw your hand out of his. “Okay,” you nod your head, and walk back across the kitchen to the cooker.

It's less than five minutes before he moves, closing the laptop lid as he stands up, and he immediately vanishes out of the back door. He does as you've asked, but of course he does it with a cigarette between his lips. He stands just forward of the double doors that lead out, his left hand pushed into the pocket of his jeans, staring out across the garden. It's cold out there, you know, with a light frost covering the grass, but he's only wearing a jumper and you know he'll be cold and smell of the icy air when he comes back inside. You feel bad for him - you know he's happy the boys are coming for dinner, but you also know he's still nervous about Aran's feelings surrounding the events to come. And you're both feeling the tension over whether or not Aran will give away your past secrets before Cillian has decided if it's something he wants to do or not. But, you also know he wants this afternoon desperately. The boys had chosen to remain with their mum for Christmas day and Cillian had accepted it without issue, but had asked explicitly if they'd come for dinner today. It had seemed the perfect bargain, and Cillian planned on making it a day-early Christmas celebration. 

As you stand at the sink and fill the large steel pot of potatoes with water from the tap, you turn your head to the left as Cillian comes back in from the garden. He does indeed bring the smell of the cold air with him, but he also comes in with a brighter face than the one he'd stepped out with. He meets you at the sink, and gives you the same chest-to-back cuddle you had given him at the island. He places his arms around you and instantly rests both of his hands against your lower stomach, and his head on your left shoulder. “Am I moody?” He asks, swaying slightly despite you being busy. 

You scoff and nod your head, “A bit.” 

“Sorry,” he says gently. “I don't think I've left work behind entirely, and with Aran and…worrying about everything, I think I'm forgetting that it's you and me, here and now, that's important.” You can smell the cigarette smoke, and his light aftershave, and the ‘him’ smell of his skin. His body close behind you is a comfort, and an apology you didn't need nor were expecting, and it all feels good. His hands move gently across your belly and you know he feels like he's close to the baby in the only way he can be. 

“It's alright, Love,” you say, reaching to turn off the tap. “I understand.” You leave the pot and turn in his arms. “But come out of your head and stay here with me, okay?” You push out your chin and lay a soft kiss against his lips. His hands settle against the small of your back. He's stubbly, and it's a sexy, scruffy look you didn't know you wanted to see. “It's Christmas Eve. Family, cheesy music, too much food, fucking…snowballs…” he grimaces and laughs. “Stay here with me,” you tap your hand against his chest, then reach up and touch his right temple, “Not in here.” 

He pushes his hands down, resting his palms and fingers around the curves of your arse, and pulls you towards him. “I'm here, I promise.” He says, close to your face. “I'm here.” he moves his face forwards and places a gentle kiss on the end of your nose. “And,” he says, glancing over to his right at the clock on the wall. “It's only twelve,” he looks back at you, raising his eyebrows. “Sure we could spare a half hour…”

You smile immediately, and you're sure you're blushing as your face feels instantly hot. “We have dinner to make.” 

He kneads his hands and pulls you in more, drawing your pelvis closer to his. “Plenty of time.” He insists, and there's already a thickening to his voice, even if you're not yet feeling any stirrings through his jeans. It's coming, you're well aware. 

“You weren't interested when I wanted to this morning,” you pull a face and he smirks. 

“I was sleeping.” He grins, and his hands move once again, squeezing your backside, and pulling you closer still. 

“Well, now we're cooking. You left me frustrated, now it's payback time.” You reach up both hands and cup his face. “But I swear to God, if you don't take me tonight, after the boys go home, I'm buying a vibrator.” You watch as his pupils slowly expand and his mouth curls into a smile. “We cook, we have Christmas with your boys, and then you need to be inside me for at least an hour. Okay?” 

He laughs a little, shaking his head even with your hands around his face, “An hour?” 

“Get creative.” You grin. You tap your hands against his cheeks then release him and extract yourself from his vice-like grip. “C’mon…” you jerk your head towards the pot still at the sink. “Do your big strong expectant daddy duties and carry that over to the cooker.” 

“That's really cool, thanks guys,” Malachy smiles, folding the shirt in his hands as he sets it down on the sofa beside him. 

“Ah, you're welcome,” Cillian smiles. He keeps his hand on your thigh as you sit close on the sofa. Malachy is at the further end whilst Aran is on the floor, back resting against the sofa and legs stretched out before him. 

So far, it's been a lovely afternoon. The boys are cheerful and Aran has clearly either processed some of his feelings or is compartmentalising for later as he chats and interacts brightly. The room is lit only by the tree lights and the log burner, and it's cosy and inviting. You feel settled for the first time in a while around the boys and you're not sure if that's just a pretense for Christmas, or if it's all smoother sailing from here on out. Cillian's carefully curated Christmas playlist melodically tinkers through the speakers and you feel happy - genuinely, all-encompassing happiness. 

“Hey, Y/N, what was in that pie thing?” Aran asks, looking up from his phone. “I'm just texting Mum about it.” 

You smile, “Oh, eh…it was gammon and chicken, with mustard and crème fraiche.” You reel off. “You liked it so much you need her to know how to make it?” You ask, grinning. 

“Yeah!” Aran nods, “So good.” He looks back down at his phone and you turn your head to Cillian, unable to hold your smile back. He smiles back at you, sharing in the appreciation of the gentle family time, and moves his hand gently against your thigh. 

“So what is the plan for you guys tomorrow, eh?” Cillian asks, and takes a sip from his beer bottle. “Adam coming for dinner?” 

Malachy nods as he sits back on the sofa comfortably. “Yeah, he's there today, and tomorrow.” He says, “He’s there all the time, really. Been living at ours for the last couple of months. And, uh, I think he said he's taking Mum away for New Year.” 

Cillian raises his eyebrows, “Oh yeah? Lucky her then, so.” He smiles. “Not the two of ye?” 

“Nah, I wouldn't want to go anyway.” Aran pipes up but he doesn't look up from his phone. “Paris, isn't it?” Aran tips his head back to look at his brother. 

Malachy nods, “Think so.” 

“Well you're welcome here if you don't want to stay home alone. And come here, your mum, she knows about the trip or it's a surprise?” Cillian asks, and you find a slight tension in his voice. 

“Surprise - if he tells her it gives everything away, doesn't it?” Aran laughs, his eyes still on his phone. 

Cillian looks at you for a moment, then back at Malachy. “Is he… is he planning on proposing on this trip?” Malachy takes a deep breath in and you know what's coming. 

“Yeah,” he mutters. 

Cillian's hand, that had been moving in gentle strokes on your thigh, stills. “Well, good for them.” He says. You wonder what it means when he nods slowly for a long time. Is he affected here? In what way? You'd expect a little shock and surprise, of course - they were married many years - but you find yourself wondering if he has any right to a deeper reaction considering what you guys shared last week. 

“Don't be weird, Dad.” Aran looks up, “You two practically sat us down to tell us you have sex.” He sighs. “Can you really complain?”

“I'm not complaining, Aran. I said, it's good for them. I'm-I’m happy for her. It's great. And, sure you guys all get on well. It's great. I'm delighted for her.” Cillian rambles. 

“Any other way you want to try and word the same sentiment?” Malachy smirks, and Cillian laughs despite himself. “It's weird, Dad. For us, and you. Same as you two and that little…sex demon.” He laughs. “But this is the family we have now, and it's okay.” 

You raise your eyebrows, ever surprised by Malachy's nonchalance and maturity. “Well said, Mal.” You smile. “Although less of the ‘sex demon”...” You laugh. You place your hand over Cillian's where it rests still on your leg and squeeze gently. He looks at you briefly, and swallows down what remains in his beer bottle. 

“Cum withdrawal?” Malachy supplies and you scoff a laugh loudly. 

“Ah, stop,” Cillian grimaces. 

“Spunk prize?” Malachy continues, delighting very obviously in the cringes and sheer embarrassment he draws from his father. “Crotch goblin? Sperm specimen…?” 

“Ah, Malachy, c’mon! Stop it, will ya?!” Cillian finally groans loudly enough to first draw hysterical laughter from his sons, and then to end the slagging and descension into total filth. He is laughing, though, but you know he feels a little embarrassed. 

“Anyway, Dad,” Aran says as he pushes himself up off the floor. “You two will get married eventually too, won't you?” He flops down onto the sofa beside his brother. 

Cillian sighs quietly, “It's not something we're looking immediately into, no.” He says. “And kids are a big commitment, too. And we're happy.” You smile as he looks at you, and try not to worry about what your true feelings around marriage might be. He's right. Kids are a big commitment, and you are happy. Does a ring really matter now? “And if we did decide to get married, you two would be the first to know about it.” 

“And the baby,” Aran says quietly. “It'll be…Murphy, not Y/N’s surname?” You frown, realising that Aran seems to have voiced an anxiety he holds in a very calm and open way, but you can see his face is pinched a little. Does he really not want a sibling this much?

“Of course it'll be Murphy,” Cillian says quickly but calmly. “And you'll be fucking siblings too, all of you. And I know it'll be weird, Aran, but you will have a wee sibling here in the summer. You're allowed to feel freaked out by that, man, but you've to accept it too.” 

“I have,” Aran says, but he's a little snippy in his tone. “My Dad's nearly fifty and he's having a new baby. I'll get you a t-shirt with that on for your birthday.” 

Cillian raises an eyebrow but he doesn't pick a battle. Instead, he lets it fly entirely. “That'd be brilliant, thanks Aran.” He sniffs. 

“Okay, if we're all done talking about your virility, Dad, I think we're gonna head home.” Malachy says sitting forwards. As he announces, you reach for your phone to check the time - it's almost seven pm. 

Cillian taps his hand against your legs before he gets to his feet as his sons begin packing up their gifts and replacing their shoes. “It's been really good having you boys, you know that.” He smiles watching them. He opens his arms out to Malachy as his son approaches him in the same stance. You watch them wrap each other up and you smile as Malachy winks at you as he places his head on his Dad's shoulder. Cillian gives Aran the same loving hug before he follows both boys towards the front door. You ease up from the sofa and join them in the hallway to say goodbye. “Drive safe now, Mal, yeah? And eh, merry Christmas. But sure I'll ring youse tomorrow.” 

“Merry Christmas, boys,” you smile softly, and suddenly find yourself feeling rather emotional. You move up beside Cillian and cuddle yourself against him as he opens the front door. The boys file out and Cillian wraps his arm around your shoulders tightly, holding you against his side. It's cold out on the driveway and it's dark and starry above. The boys wave as they bundle themselves into Malachy's car, and you stand - freezing - on the doorstep with Cillian to wave them away. Only when the lights of the car have vanished does Cillian encourage you to step back inside. 

He licks the door and turns to you with a shrug. “She's gonna be getting married.” 

You nod your head slowly, “Yes, and we're having a baby.” 

He smiles softly, cheeks pushing up beneath his eyes. “Yes we are.” He walks towards you and wraps his arms around your back, pulling you straight up against his body by the cheeks of your arse. “How would you like another one put in there?” 

“You can put you up there…” you say, close to his face, and steal yourself the deep kiss you've been longing for since morning. You'd not dared even instigate a string of smaller kisses at any other point for fear you'd drive yourself insane with sexual tension until you were able to get what you truly wanted. “Take me to bed, or lose me forever!” you say against his mouth, laughing when he pulls you in further and unbalances you both. If he was bothered by Yvonne's potential impending engagement, you know it's pushed far away now. He's hard, he's kneading, and he's needy - and that's what you've longed for for the whole day. 

[crossdressingdeath]

I've been fiddling with a thing about Viago and de Riva scheming together to make Viago the Fifth Talon (because I find the idea of de Riva being involved in that and that being partially why they're so close to Viago very fun). I haven't figured out exactly what I'm doing with it, but the scheming itself is going great.

“I swear, he’s always staring at me,” Percy grumbled. “The ceiling could fall on him and I bet he wouldn’t even notice.”

“Hm.”

“And he treats me like a servant!” When Viago held out a hand, Percy dropped the vial into it. “I mean, I know I’m just a fledgling, but I’m still a mage! You’d think he could find some use for me, instead of just making me do busywork for him.”

“You’d think.”

“You’re not even listening! You’ve seen what I can do, but he keeps making me do chores for him instead of practicing my magic. He’s got me cleaning his room, running messages for him…” Percy glanced at Viago pointedly. “Fetching his meals…”

Three drops of venom fell to the table before Viago righted the vial. “Does he now?”

“Mhm.” There was a familiar gleam of mischief in Percy’s eyes as he hopped up to sit on the table. “It’s nice to be trusted, though. He doesn’t even test the meals I bring him for poison anymore.”

“What, never?” Viago sealed the vial and set it down on the table before he could spill any more of its contents. “That seems�� unwise, for a Talon.”

“I’m very trustworthy.” Percy offered his most guileless smile, the one Viago only ever saw when he was up to something. “And I’ve never done a thing to hurt him! The most I ever do is add little things to his meals. Like seasoning. If I ever did more than that he’d probably kill me, never mind letting me near his food again.”

“It’s lucky you’ve never done more than that, then,” Viago said.

“Lucky? Come on, what do you take me for? I’m not stupid.” Percy picked up the vial of venom and held it up, twisting it back and forth to admire the way the light shone through it. “I’m not much of a cook, though. If you have any suggestions on how I can improve his meals, I’d love to hear them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Viago grabbed Percy’s arm as the fledgling bounced off the table and began to stroll away. “Why?”

Percy smiled again, less guileless and more genuine. “I told you, didn’t I?” He set a hand on Viago's shoulder and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “I’m not the Fifth Talon’s Crow. I’m yours.”

“Some might call that treachery.”

“Not for much longer, I don't think.” Percy set the vial in Viago's hand. “Let me know when you're free for that cooking lesson, would you?” he called over his shoulder as he left. “I can make time whenever you like.”

WIP WEDNESDAY THURSDAY! 💘

Hello, it’s WIP Wednesday Thursday, again! The confusingly named game where you:

Reblog this post with a snippet of whatever you’re working on (art, writing, music, crafts, whatever!) and I encourage you and comment briefly !

It doesn’t need to be Dragon Age! You can do whatever !

Because it is weekly, I won’t really be reblogging after Thursday is over, but you can still add stuff, if you want!

If you are looking for comments on/promotion of work that is currently being published, I do that on Bio(ware)feedback days! The next one is 2/22/2025!

Thanks for sharing your work, and have a great day!

[jinnyart06]

Almost done with a part two to my haikaveh fic!!! I just have three more unplanned scenes to write i hope i get it done before other haikaveh ideas flood my brain hhhh

[walking-loather]

When it comes to hygiene tasks and self care with disability and chronic illness, its pretty much a constant case of: don't let perfect be the enemy of the good.

Basically: it's better to do something, than to do nothing at all.

TLDR: Just because you can't do something "properly" doesn't mean you shouldn't do it at all. Do it half-way. Do it shitty. Do it barely. Do it on a technicality. But do what you can. Just try, because doing something will help you.

If you don't have the energy to scrub your body with a sponge, just rub soap over your skin with your hands.

If you don't have the energy to wash your whole body with soap, just hit the places where sweat accumulates, or where you're smelliest.

If you don't have the energy to wash with soap AT ALL, just sitting in water is better than nothing. It will wash away dirt and oils.

If you can't bathe or shower at all, a warm wash cloth is your new best friend. If that's too much, then try bath wipes. They're a bit bigger than regular wet wipes, and a bit more heavy duty. They're designed to help keep bed ridden patients clean in hospitals.

If you don't have the energy to dry yourself after a bath or a shower, just put on a bathrobe and get into bed. If you don't have the energy to get dressed afterwards, just don't. It can wait until you can.

If you don't have energy to brush your teeth for two minutes, honestly, just a cursory scrub is better than not doing anything.

If you can't brush your teeth twice a day, brush in the evenings. It will help take away the build up of food from the day.

If you don't have the energy to brush AT ALL, honestly, just take a cloth and wipe the plaque off your teeth. Rinse with mouth wash after if you'd like. Something is always better than nothing.

If you can't floss twice a day. Try once. If that's too much, try a few times a week. If that's too much, try setting aside a day once a week as a goal. If you can't keep a schedule, do it when you're able to. Hell, I keep some floss next to my bed so that if I forget and don't have the energy to go get it, I can just reach over.

If you can't iron your clothes, don't bother. Wrinkles are fine. Wear jumpers over wrinkly t-shirts. No one will know, and honestly, most people won't even care. If it's really wrinkly and it's A Big Deal And It Needs To Be Ironed, here's my life hack. Step 1: take a spray bottle, and spritz the item of clothing (while you're wearing it is easiest) until it's lightly damp. Step 2: use a hair-dryer on the clothes until they're dry. It gets rid of creases like nobody's business, it's easier than lugging out the iron and ironing board, and you get to have nice toasty warm clothes afterwards.

If you can't fold your clothes, try just hanging them up. It's less commitment. It's quicker to do. Granted, you need to have the space in order to do this, but it is also good at helping you downsize, and lets you visualise exactly what you have.

If you can't put your clothes away, invest in a couple of laundry baskets, and then just keep your clean clothes in the baskets. You can then separate washed clothes into underwear, pants, and shirts baskets. You can just leave them like that. I'm giving you permission to never fold your laundry again if you can't. Just leave it unfolded. Who's going to care? Something is better than nothing. If you can, try to put those baskets into your closet so that you can keep the clutter out of sight, and give yourself a more restful environment.

If you can't separate your clothing out into different categories and wash them "properly" (whites, warm tones, cool tones, darks, delicates / switching between hot & cold washes / paying attention to laundry instructions on the label) then just don't worry about it. If you cold wash your clothes, colours won't bleed. Maybe gradually over the course of dozens of washes there'll be some changes in hue, but it's really not as high stakes as the One Red Sock In The Whites Turns Them Pink trope makes it out to be.

I've pretty much come to the point in my life where if a piece of clothing can't survive the washer and dryer, then it's just not meant to be. I colour separate my clothes, and if I have the energy/remember I'll take my bras and jumpers out of the washing machine to drip dry. But otherwise, I leave it to the universe.

If you can't separate out your recycling, then don't. If you have a large amount of rubbish you need to get rid of but the idea of separating it out properly is stopping you from doing so, then just don't worry about it. I know it's not ideal, but if you have garbage in your room/house and you need to get rid of it, please just get rid of it. Don't let the problem get bigger and harder to deal with. Don't let "doing something properly" get in the way of keeping your living spaces clean. Please. Give yourself understanding.

If you can't wash your dishes, get paper plates. Obviously, it's not ideal, but it is better that you eat food than skipping meals. It is better that you have a clean kitchen, rather than having dishes piling up and making it harder to look after yourself.

If you can't prepare meals for yourself keep making the tasks easier and easier. If you can't do recipes, then simplify. Use pasta sauce from the jar instead of making it. Eat canned soup. Buy food you can just stick in the oven. If you eat fish fingers and microwave veggies every night, it's better than not eating anything at all. It's better than having to fork out money on take-out. If you need ready-made meals, then get them. If you're literally just eating a raw cauliflower for dinner; 1) I see you, 2) me too, sis, 3) something is better than nothing.

These are the basic things you need to do every day to function as a person. They are your activities of daily living. Brushing your teeth. Bathing or showering. Using the bathroom. Getting dressed. Eating. Drinking. Sleeping. Keeping your environment clean. You don't need to do these things perfectly, but they need to happen in order for you to have a decent quality of life.

And it breaks my heart, because I know that so many disabled people can't do these things every day. I'm not saying this to guilt or judge, I'm saying that these are basic needs; you deserve these things. These things bring dignity. If a disabled person is unable to do these things, it diminishes their quality of life. It robs them of dignity.

If you need help to do these things, Its okay to ask for help. It's okay to need help. But if you can't get that help and you have to do these things by yourself -- or you just plain want to be independent and do it without help-- then don't hold yourself to standards you can't meet.

Don't let perfect be the enemy of the good. Doing something is always better than doing nothing. Even if it's not perfect. Even if it's not done well. Do what you can.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Mobster

Chicago - 1931 The Height of Prohibition The mafia is earning top dollar smuggling alcohol into the country. And one mobster has his eye on you.

Yandere! Mobster who's a made man, who drives a nice car even after the stock market crash forced most people to sell theirs.

Yandere! Mobster who wears a tailored suit and fedora, his black hair swept back. Who everyone in the neighbourhood says is a good guy, a decent man, even if he does work for the don.

Yandere! Mobster who pulls up next to you when you're walking home from work. It's late and clouds are scudding across the moon.

Yandere! Mobster who leans out his window and offers to drive you home. Who says these streets ain't safe for a pretty girl like you.

Yandere! Mobster who's known you since you were children. Two kids from immigrant families, playing together in the tiny bits of open space your apartments could offer.

Yandere! Mobster who keeps looking at you and marvelling at how grown up you both are. Where did that scruffy little girl go? And when did you get so pretty?

Yandere! Mobster who spends the whole drive chatting about old times. Who makes you laugh at his stories about running from the landlady and stashing his school books behind the canteen.

Yandere! Mobster who leans over you and pulls the door closed when you move to get out. Who looks you dead in the eye when he asks if you're having trouble with your rent.

The mob is a big part of the community afterall, and he knows just about everything.

You drop your eyes, embarrassed. Your brothers have their own families to care for, you say. Things are hard but if you pick up a few more shifts at the factory, you might manage it.

Yandere! Mobster who sighs and digs in his suit pocket. Who pulls out a stack of cash and counts it right in front you.

Yandere! Mobster who offers you enough for two months of rent. A small fortune to someone from your part of town.

You shake your head, horrified. You can't afford the interest, you tell him.

Yandere! Mobster who scoffs and asks if you really think he's offering a loan when you've known each other for years? It's a gift, to keep your mama out of the cold.

Yandere! Mobster who smiles at the hesitant way you accept the money. You're too proud to ever ask for help and he knows it. Just like when you were kids.

Yandere! Mobster who gets out and opens the car door for you like a gentleman, even if he knows the whole apartment building will talk about it.

Yandere! Mobster who grins that charming, good guy smile even though he has a gun holstered under his jacket and a shovel in the trunk. Who says he'll consider things even if you cook him dinner some time.

Yandere! Mobster who visits your ma while you're at work. Who tells her he's interested in you and wants her blessing. And your ma is all too happy to give it. He's such a good boy, she says, and she knows he's always had a soft spot for you.

Yandere! Mobster who insists on driving you home after work everyday. Even when you blush and complain that he's going out of his way.

Yandere! Mobster who gratefully accepts the gifts you offer him. Fresh baked bread, jars of your mama's famous marinara sauce, homecooked meals... Who eats so much better when you take care of him.

Yandere! Mobster who eventually runs out of luck and straight into trouble. What was supposed to be a routine whiskey delivery turns out to be a sting operation.

Yandere! Mobster who sees his partner get a hole blasted right through him and almost die. Who fires at the cops until his tommy gun is red hot and smoking. Who ends up with so much blood on his hands he ain't sure it will ever wash off.

Yandere! Mobster who finds himself at your door afterwards, his coat drenched by the rain.

Yandere! Mobster who doesn't resist when you pull him inside and strip away his jacket and shirt. There's blood on your hands after you hang up his coat, and you pretend not to notice it.

Yandere! Mobster who can see your curiosity fighting against your sense. In the end, you don't ask him a single question about it.

Yandere! Mobster who sinks gratefully into the bath you draw for him. And who falls asleep the second his head hits your pillow.

Yandere! Mobster who's gone by morning. His bloodstained coat gone with him.

Yandere! Mobster who asks around about you and finds out you've got a whole score of fellas vying for your hand.

Yandere! Mobster who let's it be known that he's interested in you and watches with satisfaction as all your potential suitors drop away.

Except for one. He just spits and says you're a grown woman and can choose your own man.

Yandere! Mobster and his buddies pick the guy up after a late shift. Tie his hands behind his back and gag him before they toss him in the trunk.

Yandere! Mobster who beats the shit out of him. Who breaks his nose with a knuckle duster and his ribs with a crowbar. Who grabs his hair with bloody fingers and hisses that you're off limits.

Yandere! Mobster whose buddies lounge against the warehouse wall and smoke, never bothering to question what a simple dock worker did to deserve such a brutal beating.

Yandere! Mobster who sniffs your hair when you hug him. He's like a dog - always making sure other men haven't left their scent on you.

Yandere! Mobster who let's his hands wander when he takes you out dancing. Who kisses you goodnight and let's his lips brush your neck before he pulls away.

Yandere! Mobster who goes home and jerks off to you, his teeth bared and head bent forward. Who snarls at you to take it, take it like a good girl.

Yandere! Mobster who tells his don about you - how pretty you are, how clever, how discreet. The man leans back in his chair and pulls on his cigar.

She'll never make a liar of you. You should marry her just for that.

Yandere! Mobster who shows up at your door a week later, an engagement ring burning a hole in his pocket.

Be my girl. And I promise I'll take care of you.

You think about the night he came to you covered in blood and not speaking a word. You think about your friend from the docks and the way he dissappeared. You think about the way people look away when you're with him in public.

You say yes, as though you have a choice.

[auclairedetoru]

Namami has only been seeing y/n for a month but he's already so smitten.

The way she walks, the way she talks, the way she carries herself, her confidence, the way she applies her makeup, the colours she gets on her nails, the pretty outfits she wears, her facial expressions, everything. He's obsessed with her.

He met her at a little bookstore. He mostly goes there to browse and relax after long and tiring shifts. He enjoys the smell of the books and the overall atmosphere, sometimes he ends up picking something that pricks his interest.

Y/n was there doing the same thing when she saw him holding one of her favourite books. She couldn't help but comment on his amazing choice. He thanked her and asked her if she liked it. She let him know that it's a top pick for her but not number one. He proceeded to ask which book she liked the most. One thing led to another and he ended up leaving the store with her number saved on his phone.

After he noticed that not only has he been talking to her for a week straight, but he also always looked forward to reading her texts, answering her calls and talking on the phone, he decided to ask her on a date.

Namami did not go on many dates before. But when he did, he'd always asked his coworker Gojo to call him at a specific time, if he was enjoying the date he would tell the person he's with that it's just work related and not to worry about it, but if he wasn't he would tell them that he's needed for an emergency and he would pay for their cab and make sure they make it home safe before letting them down gently the next time he talks to them. Thankfully he only did the latter once when the person was being borderline creepy and he felt unsafe.

The date with y/n was a first for him. After she agreed, he told her about the time and location, planning on taking her to a nice restaurant, a classic. He was surprised when she disagreed and asked if he'd be comfortable with coming over to her house. She told him that she loved cooking but never got the chance to make big meals. Namami agreed, and it made his heart swell with happiness when she told him she was excited for their date.

The date was nothing less than perfect. He immediately felt at home the moment he stepped foot in her apartment, he particularly loved that she uses small lights instead of overhead ones, something he does at his apartment as well. She set the table beautifully, with candles and some of the most unique tableware. The food was a whole different story. He could not believe he was eating all that for free. He has been to many fancy restaurants, but none of them compared to her cooking.

When Namami asked if it was okay for him to ask her a couple of questions to see if they were on the same page when it comes to the future if they're planning on sharing one, he was surprised again when she said she was glad he brought up that topic because she had her own questions as well. Namami immediately knew that this would turn out for the best because his past dates always either tried to dodge this discussion or told him he was rushing things.

He first asked her about marriage. She told him that she wants to get married and that it's definitely something she hopes would happen in the future when she's ready, he agreed. He asked her if she'd want them to live together with a partner, she said yes but not immediately, maybe one and half to two years into the relationship, he agreed. She asked him about kids and if he sees himself being a father in the future, he said yes but he wants kids not immediately after marriage but to wait a year or two before trying, she agreed. She asked him about how he would handle disagreements and arguments, he told her that he was a very calm person and enjoys the peace communication brings, so he'd sit with his partner and figure out the problem and how to resolve it, she agrees.

Namami started to feel giddy when he realised they have both agreed to many of each other's answers and even shared similar opinions. Would she be the one he spends forever with? The thought didn't seem so bad at the moment, he hoped to get his answer quickly.

But he wasn't expecting it to happen within a month.

They discovered they shared the same route on their way to work and began walking it together. Nanami started to look forward to seeing her. Every morning, she greets him with a smile and "hi, Ken!" which he started responding to with "hi, Barbie" after watching the Barbie movie, she always giggles and throws her arms around his neck in a hug. He buys her her favourite boba and she drinks it while they walk and talk about whatever comes to mind. He drops her off at work since it's closer than his, but not before pressing a kiss to her forehead that she started calling her "good luck kiss". They even spend their lunch breaks together by talking through facetime. He was the type to skip that free time to get more work done, but he stopped doing that in favour of talking to his favourite girl.

He started looking forward to seeing her and talking to her. Weekends have become boring, sure they text, but it's not like hearing her voice, even through the phone speaker. She consumed his brain, she became his first thought in the morning and his last before bed. Thankfully, Nanami isn't dumb, and he realised he is in fact falling in love.

He didn't want to play around, after all, they're both serious about this relationship. He plans on confessing, letting her know his true feelings. It's a scary thought, something he has never done before, and he hopes she wouldn't reject him given that he fell for her fast when they both agreed this would be a "getting to know each other" phase. But he can't control how he feels about her, she makes him look forward to the future, as long as she is a part of it.

It's the weekend, Nanami invited her over in the afternoon to watch movies and hang out at his apartment, but despite what the weather forecast said, the somewhat sunny morning quickly developed into a stormy evening, one that was strong enough for him to turn the hang out into a sleepover. He gave her a pair of his pajama pants and a shirt to get comfortable and put the frozen pizza he has for emergencies in the oven.

They're sitting on the couch, a movie long forgotten on TV as y/n tells him a very interesting work story. He's trying to focus, he really is, but the way she's so close to him, her folded legs almost on top of his, her hair wrapped around his fingers as he plays with the strands, the way her face lights up when she remembers a detail, it's all so precious.

“and then she got mad and-”

“I love you.”

Y/n stops talking and he's instantly regretting his words. They literally slipped out of his mouth, he had no control over them. It's like she pressed a botton and they came out. He starts fearing the worst and his brain starts telling him that he made things awkward and uncomfortable for her and she can't even escape because there's a storm outside. Fuck... Why did he need to rush? Everything has been going perfectly, and now he ruined it. He's gonna have to find a way to make up for this. He'll apologize a billion times if needed, but he can't afford to lose her.

“Ken, I love you too, so much, but I need to finish the story.”

Huh-

“Right. Sorry, darling. Please continue, I'm all ears.”

He isn't all ears, he can't be all ears, because he can hear how fast his heart is beating and he can feel the blood rushing to his face. She said it back, she loves him, so much too! Is he dreaming, is it still the night before and he hasn't called her yet to invite her over? No. It can't be. He wants this to be real... and it is, everything is real. The way she's holding on to his fingers is real, the way she's excitedly telling him the rest of her story is real, the way he's holding back from smiling so hard is real, the way the pizza smell is filling the room is real.

“oh shit, the pizza.”

Nanami bolts to the kitchen, quickly grabbing the oven mitts and pulling the pizza out just in time. When he quickly glaces towards the living room, he can see y/n hunched over and squealing into the pillow, her feet kicking slightly. He chuckles. She really tried to play it like his words did not affect her the way they affected him, but it seems like their feelings are mutual in every way possible.

Nanami is somehow even more excited for forever with her now.

[bi-writes]

Would you ever do like mob and Simon’s first date night together or something like that ( love your writing )

mail-order bride (18+)

the wine sits idle in the middle of the table. simon leans back against his chair, sighing deeply as he runs a big palm over his lower stomach, all pudgy and full from the meal you had placed on the table.

you had surprised him. candles on the table, his favorite red wine decanted into a crisp glass, beef short ribs falling apart over a plate of mashed potatoes. he had no time to scold you for cooking because you had been finished by the time he stepped through the door.

immaculate, sweet girl. the first bite of the food had him sucking on his teeth, biting back a moan. such a good meal, perfection in a pot, with creamy potatoes that had him licking the prongs of the fork as he watched you from across the table, eyes glazed over with love for feeding him better than he ever had been in his whole life. he had seconds, thirds, pawing at your skirt when you asked if he wanted more, his tongue sliding over the knife that he didn't even need to get any piece of sauce off the plate.

and then dessert. perfect little chocolate cakes in pretty little tins, with a cracked top. and when he broke the surface with his spoon, it was flooded with hot ganache, a gooey molten lava cake that he gave you heart eyes for as he ate it up with dramatic slurps.

fuck, he cannot stop looking at you. maybe you put poison in the food because you've never looked more beautiful than you do right now. you're sitting there, hair off your face, spoon in your mouth as you lick off the warm chocolate from it. that pretty pink tongue sliding over the edge of it, gathering that sweet center and swallowing, the bob of your throat making his breath catch as he follows it all the way to the low neckline of your dress. that sweetheart neckline makes your tits look so perky, so bouncy, and he can tell you aren't wearing a bra because he can see your nipples between the polka dot pattern.

"come 'ere," simon says lowly, dropping the spoon with a defiant clatter onto his plate. you smile, standing from your seat, and you bounce over to where he's sitting. simon sits you down on the table in front of him, shoving his plate far back to give you room. he picks up his glass of wine and chugs it practically, licking the last drop before setting down the glass and flipping you over with practiced ease.

you gasp as your hips hit the wood. you bend, barely having enough time to catch yourself with your hands before you hear his chair scrape against the floor. you can feel his size as he stands up and towers over you, and your toes curl when you hear the buckle of his belt.

"w-what--"

"'m not gonna fuck ya, baby," simon sighs, smoothing his hands up the back of your thighs before flipping your skirt up. he snorts when he sees you're wearing polka dot panties to match your little dress, and you squeak when he grips the flimsy fabric with one big hand and shreds it with ease, tossing it aside. "first time 's gonna be so nice, i promise..." he clicks his tongue, "but fuck, ya gotta let me, luvvie..."

"please," you gasp, sliding back a little, pressing your ass against the front of his jeans. you can feel the open zipper scratch against your cunt, and he sighs shakily. you hear the rustle of fabric, and you sob with relief when you feel the warmth of his cock slap against your ass. "oh, god--simon!"

"i know, luv," he groans, "i know...not ready for it, not yet..." he licks his lips, sliding your dress up further, exposing your lower back and the sweat that's gathered there. he grips himself at the base, swiping over his wet tip before using it to give himself a languid stroke. at the first sound of a squelch, you whine, and he squeezes your hip gently. "agggh--fuck--"

your back bows when he slides his cock between your thighs. he's so big. thick and wide, not as lengthy as you might have expected but god, he's got the girth of your fucking arm. he keeps your back arched as he grips your wrists and tugs, drawing you up until your neck leans back against his chest. he gives you a slow thrust, the tip of his cock catching on your clit as he rolls his hips just right.

"oh--simon--"

"can't wait," he mumbles, sliding a thick palm over your throat, mouthing against your ear. "fuck, i can't wait to 'ave ya...can't wait to devour this fuckin' pussy--"

"simon--" you cry, reaching up and gripping his hand around your throat, and you sob again when you feel the cold band of his wedding ring. mine, mine, mine, mine--

"wot's y'r fuckin' name, baby?" simon asks, rocking his hips. you shake every time he hits your clit, and with his tight grip, all you can do is stand there and take it as he fucks your thighs. his cock is moving so nice between your folds, stimulating every little part of you, and you aren't coherent enough to be ashamed of how wet you are, starting to soak his cock and contribute to the intense wet shlick that sounds from between your legs. "huh? tell me--"

"'m mrs. riley," you babble, sucking his fingers into your mouth as they move up your throat. your eyes flutter shut, your entire body going slack as he lets go of your wrist with his free hand and pulls your hips back against his.

"tha's right," simon grunts, "my pretty girl. my perfect little wife, cookin' so fucking good for me, takin' such good care o' me, fuck--" simon groans, "rock fuckin' hard ever since i walked through tha' fuckin' door, baby."

"mmm--!" you squeal, bracing yourself against the edge of the table as he cups your pussy with one hand and cums between your folds the next. with just a few warm strokes, you're spilling into his palm, jelly in his arms as he collapses into the seat behind him and cradles you in his lap. "mrs...mrs. riley..." you're babbling again, giggling all warm and lucid, and simon chuckles as he cups the back of your head, feeding you his wet fingers and cursing under his breath as he watches you lick the slick off his hand.

you pay special attention to his ring finger, tongue swirling around the gold band. when you let his finger go with a pop, your eyes flutter open, and they meet his.

yeah, he thinks. she's ready.

[whateveriwant]

might I request how tf 141 tries to turn you on maybe? Sorry kind of a weird request you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to ;-;

Not a weird request at all, anon! Hope you enjoy! 18+ only, GN!Reader

Price

Three words: full body massage

That man loves to get his hands on you, and it doesn’t even have to be sexual in nature, honestly. Any opportunity to touch you, to caress you, to help ease the tension from your body, he’ll gladly take it (and if afterwards you’ll let him ease himself into you, well, that’s just an added bonus 😉)

He might use special rollers or electric massagers sometimes, but mostly he just sticks to those big, strong hands of his

He'll start by slicking up his palms with some oil, warming it up before he applies it to your skin

Beginning with your shoulders, he’ll slowly work his way down your body, paying special attention to the areas you need most targeted

Aside from those tender spots, he’ll also be sure to focus on a few of your more erogenous zones, namely your thighs and your ass (he's an ass man for sure)

By the time he's finished, you're all supple and pliant before him, but there’s something else too – a sort of warm, fluttery feeling in your gut

Luckily, he knows just the remedy for that sensation. And oh! Would you look at that? You're already in his favorite position: prone

Ghost

We all know he tends to be a man of few words, and this applies to every environment he finds himself in

…At least, every environment outside the bedroom, that is

Because when he's in the mood, you best hold on tight to your pants if you don't want them flying off from how he talks to you (but, I guess, your pants coming off is his end goal anyway)

You'll just be going about your day, minding your business, when you'll get a call from him while he’s “busy” at work

He'll start off casual at first, inquiring about your day, your plans for the night, etc., but it won't take long for the conversation to steer to the real reason for his call: to describe the way he's going to fuck you when he gets home

He'll go into excruciating, toe curling detail about all the things he's going to do to you; just how good he’s going to fuck you until you forget your own name

I hope you're not in public when you take his call, otherwise you better have the poker face of a lifetime if you don't want to make a scene in front of several dozens of witnesses

Gaz

He's a big romantic at heart, so rather than just going straight for the bedroom, he'll slowly work his way up to it over the course of the evening

First, he'll treat you to a nice dinner – either by cooking it himself or by taking you to that fancy restaurant you love but think is much too expensive for every day dining

Beneath dimmed, romantic lighting, together you'll share a delicious meal, a glass or two of wine, and of course a tasty dessert to cap it all off

The conversation will be light and pleasant (nothing unbecoming whatsoever), but while he might not outright voice the plans he has for you later in the night, that look he keeps giving you from across the table speaks volumes

When you’ve finished your meal and gradually made your way back home/to the bedroom, even then he still isn't done buttering you up just yet

He'll put on some slow music, maybe light a couple candles to really set the mood, even draw you both a bath if you're feeling up to it

Once he does finally take you to bed, it'll be a seamless transition from an evening overflowing with desire and passion

Soap

‘Subtlety’ is not really a word in his vocabulary, so most of the time when he's horny, he's just turning to you and asking if you want to fuck

However, sometimes when you need a little more build up than that, he has a few tried and true methods he knows will work you up

He'll change so that he’s walking around your flat wearing a pair of gray sweatpants. Wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants, mind you

Whilst wearing said sweatpants, he'll proceed to stretch and flex around you, showing off all those muscles he knows you love, as well as highlighting a few other assets he knows drives you crazy (i.e. bulge printtttt 😍)

He'll then get really touchy with you, starting innocent at first – brushing an eyelash from your cheek, straightening the neck of your shirt – before he gets more and more brazen with his petting

And when he's real close like that, leaning right into your ear, he’ll mutter soft praises to you: telling you how beautiful you look, how good you smell, how soft your skin is where he’s touching just there

By the time he finally goes to ask if you want to have sex, he doesn't even get the words out before you're jumping him like a wild animal. All according to plan…

[navybrat817]

Cooking Together

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky asks you to cook a meal with him.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Fluff, longing, pining, canon divergent neighbor AU, flirting of sorts, mention of HYDRA, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Short and sweet for @stellar-solar-flare’s Starry Winter Sky Event! I went with cooking together and Neighbor AU as a small expansion of this nonsense. February has had some lingering January energy, and I hope you enjoy what I was able to write! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

If you asked Bucky if he thought he was a good cook, he’d say he was decent. He retained some of what his mom taught him many years ago and he carefully followed recipes once he was completely free of HYDRA. It was admittedly a bit of a rough go at first. Being able to choose what he could eat was a foreign concept after he didn't have the choice for so long. It got better each day. Every single meal he got to reclaim a piece of himself by making the choice of what he did and didn’t want.

Until today, he always cooked alone.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” you smiled, graciously accepting the apron he handed you.

Bucky had moved into the building a few months ago and you lived across the hall. As far as neighbors went, you were the best. Since day one, you always greeted him with a smile and a kind word. You never played your music too loud or disturbed anyone. Alpine adored you, which told him everything he needed to know since she was the best judge of character. And you never once objected to looking out for her when he had to leave for a mission.

Out of paranoia, he left harmless little “traps” to see if you'd snoop through anything the very first time you went over. Nothing that would hurt you or draw your attention, of course, but something that would let him know if anyone tampered with anything. You didn't. You were a genuinely good and respectful person, and that made him trust you more.

“Thanks for accepting the invitation. And allow me,” he offered, stepping behind you to help you tie it. His fingers lingered on the fabric and he took the moment to inhale your sweet scent before he stepped away. He didn't want to be a creep. “And it’s the least I could do since you offered to watch Alpine. Again.”

“I love watching her. She’s wonderful.”

The photos you sent were something he always looked forward to when he was away. Some of the captions you added made him laugh and smile. His favorite was a selfie you took with Alpine’s cheek against yours. He saved it as “my girls”, which you weren’t aware of.

Because you technically weren’t his girl.

“Well, she adores you,” Bucky smiled. He adored you, too. It stunned him when he found out you were single, and he was selfishly thankful for that. 

“I’ll have to get her another toy,” you said, your lips curling in a small smile. “If that’s okay with you.”

He laughed, a warm and easy sound. “Between the two of us, she’s spoiled rotten and she wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He never expected to be a cat dad, but life surprised him. In fact, it also surprised him that Alpine wasn’t camping out nearby or brushing against one of your legs. She was a smart cat and likely somehow sensed that he wanted alone time with you.

“Well, she deserves it,” you winked before things went quiet.

One of the nice things about hanging out with you was that he didn't mind any bouts of silence. They didn’t feel awkward or tense. In those quiet moments and stolen glances he felt like he had the best conversations with you. He was happy and felt safe being in the same space as you.

“You know,” Bucky began as he set the ingredients on the counter. He lucked out by having a decent sized kitchen since he took up a lot of space. “If I was a better neighbor, I would've just cooked a meal for you while you relaxed.”

It felt romantic for the two of you to cook together, but you weren't together and now he felt like an idiot. A gentleman would've made you a meal and pampered you. Or take you out for a nice meal. He hadn’t dressed up, opting for his jeans and a trademark Henley while you wore a sundress that had his mind racing with both sweet and filthy images. He didn't have flowers for you either.

His “game”, as Sam would say, was rusty.

“You're a great neighbor, Bucky. The best neighbor I’ve had,” you defended. He tried to be a good neighbor and person. A minor way to make up for some of his forced wrongdoings. “And cooking something together is fun! We could even try something at my place next week if you'd like.”

Bucky almost knocked the salt over, his eyes wide. “Really?” You were inviting him over to do this again?

“Yeah, really,” you replied, taking a moment to scan the simple recipe in the cookbook. You always had the cutest expression when you concentrated on something, and he didn’t want to choose something too difficult for the first meal. “We can take turns picking things out to try and trade off cooking at your place and mine. You can even bring Alpine over if you want.”

He suddenly had the image of you in his arms, dancing around the kitchen as you both waited for a meal in the oven to cook. Soft music, low lighting, his hands on your hips, and a tender smile on your face. Stealing a gentle kiss and keeping his eyes open only for a moment so he could see for himself that it wasn't a dream.

“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling his hair back in a ponytail and washing his hands to distract himself from his thoughts. “I’d really like that.”

“Great,” you exhaled. His heart beat faster when he caught you staring. He liked to pretend the look in your eyes was longing. “Sorry. You just…” you cleared your throat and gestured to his head. “You have really nice hair.”

The compliment had his heart racing even faster. “I have nice hair?” he asked. Your fingers would feel amazing in his hair.

You ducked your head for a moment before you met his gaze with a soft smile. “Yeah, you do.”

“Thanks,” he smiled back, his shoulder brushing yours when he stood beside you. Electricity lightly cracked between you. Did you feel it, too? “Um, I peeled the carrots before you got here. Would you like to cut them?”

“Oh, I think you’re better with a knife than I am,” you giggled.

He puffed his chest out and twirled the knife he selected in his hand without thinking about it. Part of him was showing off because, well, he wanted you to stare again. “How about I help you?”

“Help me? How?” you asked.

“Here.” He placed the knife in your hand and stood behind you once he had the carrots on the cutting board. “I’m going to preface this by saying I’m far from an expert, but I usually cut them into decent sized pieces before I dice them.”

“I trust your judgement,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. Your faces were close enough that he could kiss you if he leaned in a fraction. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t take what you didn’t offer.

Carefully placing his hands over yours once you faced forward, he felt that electricity crackle again as he helped guide you. He angled his hips so he didn’t press against you, but still stayed close. “See? You’re a natural,” he whispered against your ear when you made the first cut through the vegetable.

He heard the hitch in your breath and how your blood rushed faster in your veins. He felt your skin warm under his touch as you cut the next piece. He also caught the slight tremble that went through your frame when his grip tightened, but he didn’t sense any fear. He hadn't detected any sort of fear or disgust since he came into your life.

But what he sensed in this very moment was excitement.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you whispered back. The way you spoke his name was breathy, beautiful, and he longed to hear that again. “You’re a great teacher.”

“I’m not,” he said, thankful your back was to him so you wouldn’t see the pink that tinted his cheeks. “But I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, you are,” you stated, tempting him to turn your head toward him to kiss you. If he did that and you stabbed him, he wouldn’t blame you or hold it against you. “And Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“I really am glad you invited me over,” you said.

He stopped himself from putting his face in the crook of your neck. “I am, too,” he said, smiling to himself as he helped you finish up. “And now that you’ve mastered the carrots, we can chop the onions.”

“Onions? Oh, no,” you groaned playfully.

As the sound of both of you laughing a second later filled the room, Bucky was glad he went with his gut and asked for you two to cook together.

And maybe before the night was over, he’d ask you out on a date and prove to himself that his game wasn't completely hopeless.

I wonder just how he'll ask you out! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[woso-dreamzzz]

Head In The Clouds: Christmas

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: Christmas with Mcdreamy

"No! Don't touch!"

Irene yelps as a wooden spatula slams onto her knuckles.

"I just-"

"No!" You insist, waving the spatula around again in warning. "This is my kitchen! Don't touch!"

"I can help!"

"No! Go!"

Irene looks like she wants to argue more but you raise the spatula again and she puts her hands up in a placating manner as she backs away onto the sofa.

Marta holds out a tray of tiny sausages to her. "You got kicked out of the kitchen too?"

"I was just trying to help."

Marta shrugs. "You know what she's like. Nothing comes between her and cooking."

"I swear she's been cooking for ages," Irene complains," She was up early too, I just know it."

"You can't prove it though," Patri says smugly, snatching some food for herself and munching away," Plausible deniability and all that."

"She needs a break."

"Don't bring that up with her," Frido says as she takes a seat on the arm of the sofa," You know she'd spend hours in that kitchen if she could. That's what we get for agreeing to dinner with a kid who's parents are chefs."

"No touching!" You yell from the kitchen and the little group cranes their hands to see your waving that spatula around in Alexia's face.

"I was just-"

"No! You're ruining! You're not allowed to touch! It's against the rules!"

"What rules?"

"My rules! The rules of my kitchen! That you are standing in!"

"Come on, just let me-"

"No!"

Irene smothers a laugh as you stamp your foot.

"You can fill up drinks or you can go away."

Keira laughs from the cosy armchair. "I'd listen to her, Ale! You're not going to get the best food if you distract her."

Alexia grumpily wedges herself onto the already over-full sofa. "I'm just trying to help. She's making this dinner for the whole team. I don't want her to get overwhelmed."

Keira rolls her eyes. "Her parents literally have Michelin stars. She grew up in the kitchen of world famous restaurants. I doubt doing a bit of cooking at home is going to overwhelm her."

Just as she finishes speaking, ten different timers ring out through the air, one after another, and Keira winces.

"I'm sure that's on purpose," She says as Alexia levels her a pointed look.

To be fair to you, you're not overwhelmed in the slightest and Alexia can see the moment the instinct takes over you like it does on the pitch, when everything around you completely disappears apart from what is directly in front of you.

Most of the time, it ends with a goal.

But here and now, it ends with the biggest spread of food she's ever seen cooked by one person before.

It's truly impressive what you've managed to produce for everyone, a buffet style meal that the whole team can pick and choose what they want from and still come back for seconds.

"You shouldn't eat too much," You say as you settle into your seat between Irene and Ingrid," Because I've got dessert as well. It's my Nana's recipe and I'd like you all to try it."

"We'll make sure to save room," Mapi promises as she reaches over the table to wrestle the stuffing away from Patri's clingy hands.

You beam at her. It's a wide smile, the same smile you get when you score a goal out of nowhere - making triumph out of nothing as you so often do after a pass that no one expects you to turn into an assist.

A big meal like this isn't a strange thing in your family back home. Your brothers are very busy people and your parents spend most of their time prepping for the dinner service of their restaurant every night.

But Christmas meant the whole family got together again. With your brothers mainly based in the Netherlands, you didn't see them as often until you and your parents were at arrivals at Heathrow Airport and the three of them came in after baggage claim.

With the family together again, it meant making a feast of a meal for Christmas with everyone in the kitchen, working around each other fluidly like your parents had taught you when you were little.

It felt nice to share this kind of meal with your teammates even after you came to the conclusion that none of them worked particularly fluidly in your kitchen and then had to get banned for your own peace of mind.

It filled you with pride to have your teammates eating and enjoying your food to such a degree that even the older, more responsible players like Marta and Alexia and Irene asked if you could box up some of the meal so they could eat some for leftovers the next day.

"You know," Alexia says when you finally allow her into your kitchen, if only to help you wash up," If you want to stay in Spain for Christmas, I can take you home with me. My family would love the food you cook."

"Don't joke around with stuff like that," Irene teases, dragging the drying up cloth over the plate that Mapi had just finished cleaning," Because if she's coming home with anyone for Christmas, it'll be me."

"I can't," You say simply as you put the lid on another portion of leftovers, this time for Salma," Because I've got to go home. My parents are closing the restaurant a couple of days early so we can pick up my brothers from the airport and I can't miss that."

"Well-"

"And I have to be home so my girlfriend can call and read me poetry on Christmas Eve. It's tradition."

"That's..." Irene clears her throat. "That's really sweet."

"And she always reads to me in French because she knows I'm trying to learn for her. So, I can't stay here because then I won't see my brothers and before my girlfriend reads me poetry, she likes seeing my pets at home and I can't show her my pets if I'm here."

Alexia laughs and you furrow your brows in confusion.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Alexia says, throwing an arm around your shoulder and squeezing you like she does when you score a goal," You're such a sweetheart, y/n. Don't ever change."

[bunny-jpeg]

mrs. colapinto

franco colapinto

tags: smut/pwp, established relationship, loving!franco, curvy!reader, marriage, honeymoon, cowgirl position, clit teasing

no one knew who franco's sweetheart was. the argentinian driver had captured the world's heart, but who captured his heart? and oh, did you capture it. you were the air he breathed, the sun in the sky, a bright light in his soul. but, franco was protective of you. he didn't want to the world to poke and prod at you and your life. your education, your personality, your body.

france know that each inch was beautiful, every centimeter had been explored by his lips over the years. you were perfect, beyond perfect. he probably had your curves memorized like lines on a track. he could trace them with ease. so, he didn't need the input of fans or the press to determine if you were worth loving. franco knew that you were worth loving.

it was better that you could attend university in peace, that didn't mean that franco ignored you. he was texting you the second he could get his hands on his phone, you two were doing virtual dates when you were apart, and at the very least he could get you on facetime while you were snuggled in bed, on campus, or preparing (a late) dinner. it felt like the only time he could relax, while he was happy to have a shot at formula one. he missed the comfort of your small apartment, the home-cooked meals, how you'd ramble to him about your recent essay topic. to hear your voice. it was his personal heaven. every chance he could, he'd take photos of the cities he was in. he sent flowers every so often, and even got his hands on small souvenirs to send back home to you. you were on his mind during this sudden propelling into racing success.

if you couldn't go with him. then he'd simply bring the locations to you. as he once said to you, "anything for you, mrs. colapinto." then winked at you when your face went hot. he the laughed when you smacked him in the arms. it only made you face hot when franco mentioned marriage so casually. off handed comments to make you his bride. you knew you wanted to marry him, but everything felt too busy at the moment to take that next step. you didn't need him to feel the pressure of marriage on top of f1.

so it was a total shock when he proposed over a home-made dinner during a small break in the season. while you were about to enjoy the meal you made together, you caught sight of the small diamond in the ring. the way it caught the yellowing light of the dining area. you choked on your meal when he asked, "my love, will you marry me?" he put the velvet box down to hand you his water glass to help you swallow down the food, "i'm so sorry! i should've waited till after you ate!!" then when you stopped choking, you smiled between heavy breaths and he smiled too.

"franco." you said, you did get a little misty eyed when he rounded the table to put the ring on you. you kissed him deeply.

you two had your wedding during the off-season. it was a spur of a moment with few witnesses with dinner after. but word of the marriage wasn't kept quiet for long. people caught sight of you leaving the courthouse in white with franco in a suit. so you were franco's sweetheart, now his wife. everyone wanted to know who franco's little secret was. just a regular university student with no much of a social media presence. except for maybe a semi-active tubmlr, where many found out that you were a lewis hamilton fan. but other than that there was no personal information. but while you were on your honeymoon for the rest of the break, the press couldn't wait to get more information about you, and franco was more comfortable to formally introduce you. they juat had to be nice about it. you spent the break overseas and he happily kissed you in front of the cameras.

when you asked him what changed, he said, "you're my wife now! i want to show you off because if they are cruel, i can better stand up for you. protect you!" and then gave you what felt like a dozen kisses.

much of the honeymoon was spend in bed however, curled up in the rented apartment. the bed was soft and of course franco wanted to make you feel loved. to make love to his wife. hours spent against you. he loved when you rode him, the jolt of your body as you rolled your hips against him.

the heat got caught in your throat as you oved against him. you felt amazing as you made love- in all fairness, you sexual activity went from tender to rough fairly quickly.

"that's it, my love, my wife. you feel amazing, i am addicted to you." nothing else mattered in the bedroom except for your hips pressed against him and your hands on his chest. the feeling of you moving up and down on his cock with a needy want. his praise for you was heavy as you clenched around his cock, "beyond beautiful, my love. stunning. i knew i wanted to be with you the moment i met you. i love you, i love you."

"fuck, franco." you painted nails dug into his shoulders as you moved with all the force in your body.

his cock twitched inside of you, his words got filthier as the heat coursed through him quicker, "all mind, but you knew that. i'm so in love with you, there are zero words for it. never want or need anyone else. no, no, not when i have you. you're all mine just as i am yours." and met your pace. a sweet moan left his lips. you shifted against him and he only held onto you tighter. the headboard rocked against the wall a little. he wanted you all, and now as your husband, he could have it.

you didn't last much longer. you came first, then he did. and then, like a little devil, he teased your clit until you came once more. which made you tense up and kiss him deeply on the lips. you hissed, "fuck, honey."

"i know my love, you feel beautiful under my touch. as you should be." his voice laced with want and love, you were his and his only. you soon laid out with him in bed as the afternoon light shined through. he held you in his arms and you laid a hand on his chest. the diamond glimmered in the light as you laid curled up with your franco, your husband.

you stayed close to him, feeling his love as the two of you continued to enjoy your honeymoon together, some years in the making.

franco made a post the day after your honeymoon ended. with various photos throughout your relationship. you did however blush when you saw one of the photos, when you two were still teenagers, when right before when he moved to italy. there was you in his old racing helmet, you at his birthday party doing drunk karaoke together, and a finally a photo when you went to an art gallery together. an additional photo was posted of you on the bus with him to the williams headquarters. the caption read, "you have brought life into my world, let's always grow and love alongside each other. my beautiful, mrs. colapinto." <3

[free-slutt]

𝘿𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙉𝙄𝘾𝙃𝙊𝙇𝘼𝙎 𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙓𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙕 𝙒𝙊𝙐𝙇𝘿 𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙇𝙐𝘿𝙀…

lots and lots of cuddles

after a long and exhausting day on set, he would eagerly come home, looking forward to seeing you, embracing you, and making you feel safe and comfortable with his affectionate kisses and warm embraces.

face time calls

through out his day he would call up just to check in on you and fill you in about how his day was going and making sure you're okay especially when he's not in town

movie marathons

it's so heartwarming to see how much nicholas enjoys watching movies and finding inspiration from them, especially those featuring his favorite actors. it's lovely that he makes time to relax and enjoy some quality time with you, even if it's just a quiet evening in, ordering food and watching a movie together.

“baby look at this part you can’t miss it it’s so good”

pet names

he is an incredibly loving and caring boyfriend. the way he uses endearing names for you makes you feel so loved and gives you butterflies every time. It's heartwarming for him to see how much these little gestures mean to you, especially with the variety of names he uses throughout the week. It's clear to him that those moments are truly special to you some of his favorites are

doll

baby

lover

sweetie

darling

pda (public display of affection)

nicholas shows everyone how much he cares about you by sharing photos of your time together on Instagram, holding your hand in public, and being affectionate with you. he likes to show the world that you are together by giving you random kisses and standing behind you like your personal bodyguard

trips

you both have a shared passion for exploring the world, which is one of his favorite things to do when he has some time off from his hectic schedule. despite being booked and busy, he enjoys taking you out of the country to discover new places. seeing your smile and experiencing new cultures together warms his heart, knowing that he's bringing you joy and creating lasting memories together.

cooking together

even when you enjoy being the chef of the house and in the relationship, nicholas will always be there by your side, assisting you with chopping vegetables or handing you the seasonings. sometimes, when the weather is nice, he takes charge of the grill while you prepare the side dishes in the kitchen. afterwards, you both share some drinks and enjoy the meal that you created together.

spoiling you

nicholas enjoys taking you shopping or picking up things for you and bringing them home, which was initially a pleasant surprise. however, as it has become a daily occurrence, you've grown accustomed to it. he brings you various items, such as jewelry, roses, or your favorite snacks. uou've mentioned to him that it's not necessary for the gifts to be expensive, as it's the thought behind them that truly matters.

sex sex sex

oh boy, every morning, every day, every night when he’s not in town it’s over the phone. pictures here and there teasing him while he’s at work to the point where he has to excuse himself from whatever he’s doing to head to the car or the bathroom to get himself off. anywhere in the house the bathroom, the shower, the living room, the kitchen, the dining room table, the floor, the bed, outside, the patio area, or in the car no matter where you two are when he craves you he wants you right there and of course, you say yes as you love to please him. you two are in love there’s definitely no denying that.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

hi!! i hope you like this little fic i wrote i will be writing a longer one soon don’t worry xx

remember feel free to ask or submit any requests

[cherryredcheol]

barbeque, baby

tldr: just go to barbeque? tf? a/n: could be read as part three (?) to this and this but not necessary

“coups, i was thinking for the monthly meeting we go super classic: barbeque and soju. let’s head to our favorite restaurant and have meat and liquor, together.” 

seokmin looked hopefully at his leader, hoping to have enticed him to foot the bill for the next meeting. it was seungcheol’s turn to ‘host’ and it had been a while since they’d shared a meal altogether…but– “no.” he replied flatly. his mind made up before seokmin even finished the question. 

minghao chimed in, “hyung, come on. it’s been so long. it would be nice to sit down somewhere together and just enjoy each other’s company.”

seungcheol took a deep breath, “i don’t feel like eating barbeque. we go all the time and i’m sick of it right now. i’ll figure something else out for us to do. it’ll be fun but it won’t involve me slaving over a hot grill in the middle of the summer.” 

you hummed happily around a mouthful of perfectly cooked pork belly, “cheollie?” 

he looked up from the grill in the middle of the table, meticulously flipping over the pieces of beef and pork, making sure each was cooked exactly the way you liked it, “yes, baby?” 

“thank you for taking me out to barbeque after you got home from practice today. i know you’re tired.” 

he put the tongs down, giving you his full attention, “i am never too tired for you, baby. besides, i was just telling the members that i was craving barbeque so this was perfect timing.” he picked the tongs back up, grabbed the juiciest piece of beef on the grill, and placed it on your plate. 

you let out a happy little squeal, content with this little date the two of you were on. 

following your lead, seungcheol finally ate his first piece of meat, setting the tongs down for the chopsticks next to his bowl of rice. 

you were so happy to be on this date. seungcheol had been so busy lately and you were so happy he made the effort to take time with you, especially after a long dya of practice. but then again, he always makes you feel special. 

noticing a piece of pork that needed flipping, you reached across the table, grabbing for the tongs. 

seungcheol grabbed your hand right as your fingers wrapped around the tongs, “no, baby. i’ll cook all the meat. you sit back and eat.” 

you beamed at him, “thank you cheollie. you really don’t have to do that for me.”

he smiled back at you, “i’ll do anything for you, baby.”

[lvrsfilm]

Johnny and Simon aren't used to domesticity beyond what they can give each other in the quiet of the barracks. They haven't been together quite long enough to share a leave the way they'd like to. But when you came along, and chirped about on one of your weekly calls to them about how they should both just stay at your flat in London when they come back, so the three of you aren't all separated, they couldn't say no.

They didn't know what to expect, duffel bags in hand and covered in grime, sticking out like weeds on the cleanliness of your doorstep. "Door's unlocked" you had told them over the phone when they said they were on their way. Simon does Johnny the favor of opening the door first, stepping inside to cover him as if they're still on the field. But they're not met with gunfire or yelling, not even empty silence. The television is on low, playing a random football (because it is football, birdie) match and the house smells of cinnamon and something hearty bubbling on the stove.

They aren't used to the excited call of your voice from the kitchen, the sound of soft, socked feet padding on the floor towards them. You in a large shirt (one of Johnny's,) and a pair of leggings. They're almost frozen when you take their bags, dropping them to the floor and pulling them both towards you for a hug while you murmur about how you missed them.

But they like it. It's not much different than a shared tray of food in the barracks, followed by a fitful rest on a too hard mattress pad and scratchy sheets. Except it is. It's a shared meal, home cooked, the best thing they think they've ever tasted. It's you checking them over for injury not so subtly as they scarf down their plates, daring to ask for seconds to indulge both themselves and you. A shower, for both of them while you clean up, hot water and soap that smells like you.

They whisper conversation in the shower, about how different and nice it is. Johnny does more of the talking than Simon, who scrubs Johnny's back the way he likes while he listens to Johnny ramble quietly about their lass. About when did she learn to cook like that? About how he never wants to go back to his place, how he could stay here and let her feed him his weight in roast until it was time to leave again. Simon who indulges him with nods and grunts, but who's really thinking about a neat glass of bourbon and having you two draped over his lap where he can bask in your shared warmth because in his mind he's already used to this. He already knows he wants more.

It's Johnny passing out on your couch, drooling onto the armrest, a leg thrown over Simon's lap and a full belly. You coming into the living room with a mug of hot tea for the man left awake. Sitting down next to him and leaning against his side, asking him questions about where work took them and if he needs anything while you comb your fingers through his damp hair, occasionally stopping to catch a stray drop of water with your fingers. Once the cup has gone cold and theres no liquid left, you let him sit in silence as well, not speaking, only lightly pressing your lips to the stubble of his jaw and whispering that you have a surprise for him. Leaving the living room and coming back with a bottle of his favorite. Whispering about how you asked Johnny to make sure this was the right one as you burrowed your way back under his arm. And as he presses a kiss to your forehead, traces circles along your shoulder with his fingers while the other holds the bottle of bourbon on his lap, he thinks Johnny was right.

[oracle-of-dream]

Just Listen

Minors DNI & Not Proofread

Summary: Sunghoon's been having a tough time at work. And now with you... If only he could get you to listen to him.

Warnings: Male Reader, Dom! Sunghoon, Creampie, No-prep, Obedience Kink

Sunghoon sighed as he looked at the sign on the elevator.

Out of Order in old red letters. He turned to start walking up the stairs. It was a long day at the law firm–especially training some new prosecutors. They were just so rebellious... If they'd listened to Sunghoon's instructions the first time, life wouldn't be nearly as difficult.

Finally, he reached the top of the stairs. He could see the door to his apartment slightly ajar down the hall. "I swear to god... I ask for the simplest things," he groaned as he pulled it open. As he stepped inside, trying but failing to suppress an icy demeanor. He saw you sprawled on the couch.

His tone was flat, and his eyebrows laid straight. "Y/n, you left the door unlocked and open. Again." Sunghoon pulled the door behind him, removed his suit jacket, and placed it neatly in the closet.

"Oh, well, I knew you'd be home soon..." You said, mumbling as you tried not to hold his glare.

"Did you?" His eyes drifted over your form, taking in the way your shirt rode up slightly, exposing a strip of smooth skin. "And me being near home convinced you to leave the door open, inviting strangers in?"

"I didn't invite anyone–"

"You know what I mean."

You looked over to the kitchen. "I-I just finished making dinner."

Sunghoon's head didn't turn away, but his eyes glanced over to the dish on the stove. "Oh, you cooked... So did you smoke up the place and need to air it out?"

"N-No!"

Sunghoon looked around, noticing the smoke alarm had its battery removed. "Next time, just open a fucking window."

You stood with a huff. "Hey, no cursing. I just wanted to welcome you home with something nice after a long day..." You walked to him, scooping his hand and playing with his fingers. "I thought we could relax together tonight."

Sunghoon stared at your hand as it laced with his. "So did you throw away your mess in the house or outside?"

"Outside."

"And the dish is from the restaurant down the street?"

"Actually it's two streets over."

Sunghoon couldn't help but crack a smile. "Well, fine. I'll let you off this time since you got us a meal... That I paid for." He knew he'd get a charge for tonight's dinner on this month's statement, but he left a second card to his account with you so he could spoil you even when he wasn't present. "Do you need help cleaning?"

You shook your head. "Don't worry about it! I'll take care of it, just relax."

Sunghoon nodded. "I'll let you handle it then. Let's watch a movie while we eat. I know there's a new sci-fi one you mentioned."

"I don't know... Last time we watched a movie I wanted, you couldn't even wait 5 minutes."

"I accidentally sat on the remote a few times."

"And then proceeded to make out with me?"

Your boyfriend's eyebrows wiggled slightly. "It's just to give you those special attention-grabbing moments. But don't worry. tonight, I promise–no interruptions, no distractions. Just us, the movie, and food." He flashed a smirk. "Unless, of course, you get a little bored during the movie."

"I won't get bored. I wanna watch it, so keep your hands to yourself."

"We can't cuddle?" Sunghoon's eyes peeked past his glasses, with a slight beg.

You ignored his request, sitting on the couch. He joined you, adjusting some pillows and piling some food onto a plate.

The movie started, and Sunghoon behaved as promised. You were a little sad he wasn't getting a little touchy... You leaned against him, and he shifted a bit.

"Come on," He patted his chest. "Lay here, I'll hold you. Just holding." You laid on his chest, his warmth pressing against yours. Your back against his chest as his hands wrapped around your waist in a gentle embrace. Sunghoon started watching you more than the movie. He loved your face when you focused. It was so fucking cute...

The movie reached the end. Sunghoon waited as he could see your brain digesting it.

"I can't believe she lived at the end... I thought she'd die."

Sunghoon nodded, encouraging you to share your theories. As you ran through the whole film, one part of your rant caught Sunghoon's attention.

"...And the male lead? The romantic interest, he was so handsome! How could they kill him? I was hoping he'd end up surviving with the woman."

Your boyfriend frowned at you calling another man handsome.

"B-But not as handsome as you!"

You tried to recover, but it was already done. Sunghoon always got dramatic when you complimented other men.

"Oh, I didn't realize that kind of guy was your type."

"Hoon, don't start–"

"Don't start? I'm not starting anything. I just thought I should try and look up that guy's phone number so I can connect you guys."

You squirmed out of his arms. "You're being so..."

"So, what?" Your boyfriend raised his eyebrows, taunting you.

Smirking, you stopped yourself from speaking. You stood and drifted away from the couch, making Sunghoon follow you.

"So, what!?" Sunghoon's voice raised a bit, his ears got warm, and could feel his heartbeat spike.

Your smirk faded and your head cocked to the side. "Sunghoon... Why are you so angry suddenly?"

He folded his arms. "I'm not angry."

"You're shouting."

"I'm just speaking loudly."

"That's shouting!"

"Well, don't talk about other guys in front of me!"

You blinked absent-mindedly. "It's a movie! He's an actor, I was just making a fucking comment."

Sunghoon surged toward you, with his index finger out. "Do not curse at me."

"I wasn't cursing AT you."

"Don't get technical with me either, y/n!" Sunghoon's hand rushed through his hair, pushing it back. "Why can't you just listen to me?"

"How am I not listening?"

Your partner held you by your shoulders. You felt small under his grasp as he loomed over you. He took a breath. "I–just mean... I want to be the only guy you think is handsome. Even if you have to let me be delusional a bit." He held you to his chest. "I can't stand the thought of you liking someone more than me."

"I never said I liked him more than you..."

"I know... I just get a bit... jealous."

You press yourself against his chest, listening to his racing heart. "You know you're the only one for me, Hoonie."

Sunghoon lifted your chin. "Just listen to me on this, okay?"

You nodded, earning a smile from him as he leaned in to pair your lips with his. Your hands cupped his face, pulling him deeper. Sunghoon's hands found your waist, and he pulled you together as the kiss got more intense. You pulled away for a breath. "I promise I'll listen a bit more... I'll follow whatever directions you give me."

You giggled as you let your hand slide down his body. When you find what you were looking for, you give it a soft squeeze. Sunghoon groaned in response, and his head threw back as he bucked his hips.

"Mmm, fuck yes... just like that," He groans again, his voice scratchy and desperate. "I need your hands around it."

You could feel his cock getting harder. Sunghoon's cock was big, which shocked you when you saw it the first time. Your favorite thing to do was to feel it get hard. Starting small and growing to almost ten inches... Just thinking about it would make your eyes roll.

Sunghoon guided your hand to palm the zipper, letting you feel the outline of it.

His head fell down to your shoulder as he whispered in your ear, "Y/n, I need it."

The way Sunghoon's voice peaked when he begged for your touch. It made a rush run up your spine. He made quick work of his clothes, shrugging out of his shirt and shoving his pants down enough to free his aching erection.

"Remember, our walls aren't too thick. Don't wake the neighbors."

Sunghoon didn't bother trying to take you to the bedroom. He dragged you to the couch and threw you on your back.

"Fuck, stay here," Sunghoon commanded as he rushed off, leaving you alone. "Get those pants off!" He shouts from the bedroom. You giggled as you started sliding your pants off. It wasn't often that Sunghoon was more dominant with you, he was usually more patient.

You could hear the sound of Sunghoon returning to the room, the wet sound of slicking himself up getting louder as he approached. He entered into the room, some lube dripping off his dick.

"Now, let's get you ready." Sunghoon lifted your legs onto his shoulders as he spread your cheeks gently. A finger teased your hole, pressing slightly. "Beg, baby. Let me hear you."

You held in a groan as he smiled at you. "Sunghoon, please. I need it, so bad. Just skip the fingers..."

"Skip the fingers? Are you sure?" Sunghoon's voice teased.

You nodded furiously. "Please, just the tip. Anything!"

"Jeez, you are cock hungry." He listened to the strangled gasp that slipped from your lips as the head of his cock breached your tight entrance. His hands held your hips, pressing into you. You could tell it was going to bruise, and Sunghoon was resisting the urge to split you open and thrust in. "F-Fuck, y/n!" He hissed, voice strained with effort. "You're tighter than I thought."

You struggled to reply as your eyes bulged from the rush. Your eyes bulged and rolled back as your mouth hung open. "If you want to stop, then pull out–"

Your sentence was cut off as Sunghoon pushed deeper. "Don't test me. I'm trying to be nice."

Sunghoon waited to feel you relax before moving in, inch by inch. He made it halfway before you flinched, making him stop.

"Sung, wait– It's too much. I can't..."

Sunghoon opened his eyes to look at you. Your back was arched and your body twitched, which only made you more sensitive. Your eyes were wet and looking into his.

"Can't?" He cocked his head to the side. "Too bad, you'll manage."

"I can't! It won't fit..."

"I'll make it fit." Sunghoon leaned over you, pressing your mouth to his collarbone. "Bite me if it's too tough." Even when he was being dominant, Sunghoon was taking care of you...

His eyes closed with focus. Took a deep breath. And slammed his hips into you as he hilts himself fully inside you, stretching you wide around him, he releases a low groan as he leans over you. Your teeth sank into Sunghoon's collarbone.

He stroked your head. "That's it... Take it all. Such a good slut," he growled. "You feel incredible... tight, hot, and wet. I can feel you twitching around me, begging me to fuck you."

You moaned into his neck as Sunghon started a deep, steady rhythm. Slowly pulling out and snapping back into you. Before long, your boyfriend was losing himself in it as he drove his cock into you. The sound of the couch creaked louder with each powerful thrust, slightly pounding the wall.

"Shhh, you can do it," he pants against your ear, and his hot breath sends shivers down your spine. "I don't want to let anyone else hear you being needy for me."

Sunghoon angled his hips, and he found your spot. A scream ripped out of your chest as you detach from his collar.

"Oh, fuck! Sunghoon, I can't breathe! You're so big, so deep!"

Sunghoon hits your prostate exactly with strength.

"I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" You almost shout at him.

He smirked. "Untouched? You're so perfect. I'm close too, I swear, it'll be over soon."

Your body tensed and convulsed around him. Sunghoon felt your walls clamp down on his cock like a vice. The sensation was too insane to ignore. With a loud, guttural moan, he buried himself within you as he finished.

"Take it, every drop! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!!" He grunted, hips jerking as he emptied himself within you. Thick, hot streams of cum filled you. Some even leaked out as Sunghoon pumped in you through his orgasm.

Sunghoon lets out a weak sigh as he collapses against you, his weight pressing you into the couch.

You twitched and shook as your boyfriend's weight pressed on you. "Holy fuck..."

"You took it so well, baby. I'm so proud." He kissed your nose. "Such a good boy. You took it so good." Sunghoon cooed praises as you drifted into unconsciousness.

When you woke up from your fucked-out nap, Sunghoon had put you in a warm bath. He called in from work to care for you. Servicing you as much as you want...

He kissed your neck as he washed you. "By the way... Today's Friday. The office is closed on the weekend. So we'll have plenty of time to test how obedient you are."