#Easy-to-Digest Meals | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ghostwhippet · 5 months ago

Text

From Scratch

Nutrition Info: Johnny/Reader; 4k; a meetcute launched by Reader's inability to cook reasonable portions, and Johnny's... well, just Johnny

No matter how long you live alone, you can’t get the hang of cooking for one person. Even when you try to make a single-serving meal instead of batch cooking, somehow it balloons out of control. Wasting food makes you feel awful, but you can only freeze so much.

One evening, desperate and utterly fed up, you go kick gently at a neighbor’s door, both hands full, trying to mimic a knock with your shoe. Jason, you think his name was? Striking blue eyes, big frame, a cute cropped mohawk, amazing brogue, and he’s always been cordial when you’ve run into him around the building. Friendly, but not too friendly.

He’s understandably confused by your request at first, but seems happy enough for the food, and takes it around your repeated apologies–for bothering him, for existing, for anything you can find, really.

Unfortunately, not even forcing yourself to go and do all of that manages to pierce your shite sense of volume. Your trips to his door do get less awkward over time, though. And Johnny, his name is, always has sparklingly clean dishes and containers to return in exchange for the full ones.

Eventually he just starts showing up at your place instead and eats with you at your bar counter. He didn’t really ask, and you definitely didn’t, but there he is all the same, and… if you're honest? He’s just so easy to be around, it quickly feels natural having him there. He puts you off your guard, puts you at ease and makes you smile, like those are somehow the most natural things in the world.

From that first night, Johnny has insisted on helping with dishes. Starting the second, he’s always got groceries with him. Even manages to talk you out of your discomfort over accepting them, so well that on his fourth night, you’ve got a small shopping list ready. He’s cheeky, you don’t think he’ll mind. And he is right, after all: you're probably feeding him at least three or four nights out of the week, what with all the leftovers.

You start eating better, and trying new things you'd always planned on “getting around to,” now that you've got a reason to cook beyond not starving. Everything comes out fine the first time you make it, when you’re closely following a recipe, and Johnny has no qualms about trying anything you put in front of him. You’ve never met someone so genuinely un-fussy when it comes to food.

A couple months after he’s started eating at your place, he disappears for a while. “Work trip,” is all he'll say, and you don’t pry, even though you really want to.

Once he’s back, he starts coming over weekend afternoons sometimes. You do brunch with beer or fancy drinks in champagne flutes, or occasional breakfast on the roof before other people are awake, him in a big hoodie or jumper, and you wearing a thick blanket like it's trying to digest you, looking like a half-drowned cat because no living being is meant to be awake at such an hour.

You cut fruit into mangled flowers and vague geometric shapes for the brunches, usually while just spending time with him. He tries his hand at it once, with you pulling up videos, laughing the whole time you’re explaining how it’s supposed to work, and the utter bastard is better at it on his first go than you were after weeks. His hands are confoundingly steady, and his hand-eye coordination borders on the unnatural.

That’s probably the official start of his sous chef arc. And that’s what has him spending a night judging your knives and marveling, repeatedly and loudly, that you still have all your fingers.

You might put a piece of eggshell into his omelet that night in retaliation, and he might not even have the decency to react to it.

“...Johnny I can hear it crunching, oh my God would you spit it out!” You manage between laughter that’s got your face hurting.

That happens a lot around him. Smiling so much it hurts.

“Nah, i’s nice texture,” he says around the mouthful, then starts enunciating the longer words. “Very advanced technique. Shows a great awareness of the culinary experience–”

“You’re being such a prat. Why are you being such a prat!”

He talks over you as if he can’t hear you, as if he’s doing some mockingly posh review. “And honestly, the crunching–” he pauses and chomps down on the shell for effect, and how is it still intact, “it really engages the senses. Keeps me immersed in my dining experience.”

You regret loaning him your cooking books. Never again.

After that, though, he steals your knives, takes them home, and they come back so sharp you can cut windowpane slices of potato. He offers to teach you how to do it yourself–after stipulating with heart-clenching eagerness that he’s happy to come over and do it for you any time.

Johnny gets weirdly into shopping farmer’s markets, walking around discovering new produce and varieties of things he’s never seen before. “Fuck would I know tomatoes come in this color? Look at this thing, it’s like a feckin’... it’s a wee lumpy sunset, isn’t it? And this! Like someone took the heart of a dragon,” his voice had gone terribly dramatic, and you definitely hadn’t covered your face, “and stuck it on a bush somewhere.”

“Baby how are you so huge, but so adorable?” You don't know when the pet names started, but you know he started them; sometimes it feels like you two grew up together.

You like the challenge of the new and unexpected ingredients that come from his trips, and by this point, he’s keeping your kitchen pretty stocked with whatever oddball pantry items you ask for, so you're set up to deal with almost anything. But on rare occasions he’ll call you with a question, too. You’ve had each other’s numbers for a while, it just made coordinating easier.

“Oi can you make sommat with uh… fiddlehead ferns?”

You always can, whatever he asks about. It just takes a quick internet search to find out if you can tackle it that same night, or if it needs to wait for another day. Sometimes it ends up disastrous, but like a shot, Johnny has you laughing or throwing something at him (usually-but-not-always also while laughing) before guilt or shame can get a proper foothold.

There was a night when he was too excited about something to wait for you to answer the door when he knocked, and since then, he just sort of comes in on his own after he announces himself—at least when you know to expect him. That feels right, too, just like having him at your counter had.

You’re feeding the both of you almost every night of the week by now, even if you’re still not cooking often. You like being around him so much, you can’t imagine doing it less, not even when cooking is the last thing you want to be doing. It’s like there’s a bubbly little sun in your chest when he’s around.

Johnny makes you so happy, in fact, and you’re so afraid of losing your time with him, it’s nearly six months before the first time you have to tap out of a dinner, too knackered to make yourself even casually presentable, nevermind cook so much as instant noodles.

He reacts like it’s no problem at all, which of course he’d do, because he’s wonderful, but you don’t manage to keep your heart from dropping that he’s not at least a little sad. That he doesn’t, maybe, look forward to the nights like you do. You know your arrangement is practical, and he’s never been over unless there was food involved, but… well… seeing him seems to have become rather… vital to you.

Which means it’s better to put it away, anyhow, right?

So when, an hour after you’d texted him and basically all he’d said was No problem, thinking takeout, any votes?, he’s coming through your front door with delivery bags and talking a mile a minute like it’s just another night, you're left with your mouth open and your hand on the knob, because… because he's here.

You're not cooking, but he's still here.

You just stand there gobsmacked as he sits on the couch, nattering away, half the food out before he even realizes you’re still playing doorstop. He asks if you’re having the time of your life or if you’re going to come sit down, those horrible (wonderful) crinkles at the sides of his eyes, brows pulled up in the middle.

He looks confused when you say you want to freshen up, like he can’t see that your hair might’ve lost a row with a feral rodent, or that you’re wearing clothes that shouldn’t even be outside of a bin, nevermind on a person. He just tells you the food will get cold, and that it’ll be no good that way.

So you run your hands through your hair and sit, subdued and uncertain like you haven’t been around him in ages, as he amiably fills the silence. You know he can tell you’re not right, but he’s just… acting like it’s ok that you aren’t.

Midway through the meal, he reaches forward to grab a container and put it in front of you, and it makes his knee come up against yours.

It doesn’t move away when he sits back.

Then, as the night wears on and the very most jagged edges of your weariness have eased, he makes a joke and you bump your shoulder into him in retaliation. It pushes your legs flush… and neither of you do anything to separate them. He just keeps on being Johnny like nothing is different, like nothing strange is happening, like he can’t see how bloody flushed you must be, like the room hasn't turned to glass and burst, leaving the both of you toppling through the air.

You're not stupid, so you have to tell yourself repeatedly that he’s just trying to comfort you. He’s acting completely normal otherwise—for Johnny—and you look like a person in need of a friend tonight. And same as him, you’re at all your meal nights instead of off with friends or dates. At least for him, it’s because of his career. You haven’t even seen him bringing up a new fling in ages.

…You’re not stupid. Right?

After the food is finished, Johnny putters about cleaning up, working his way around your kitchen like he knows it exactly as well as he does. He puts all but one container of leftovers in your fridge.

You hug your knees comfortably, just sort of watching him, too full of static to be paranoid about it, and he either doesn’t realize or isn’t bothered by it. Not being a complete creep, you don’t keep it up for too long, anyhow. You’ve got plenty to occupy your thoughts.

He surprises you on his way out by casually setting a mug in front of you. He’d made you something hot to drink while he was cleaning up, and you were so spaced you hadn’t realized. He just gives you a little smile, a gentle squeeze on the shoulder with a stroke of his thumb, says, “Wednesday, yeah?” (the night of your next normal get-together), and moves on toward the door. All normal. But there’s some metal in your chest painfully bending itself into unaccustomed shapes, jabbing places that aren’t used to the pressure, pushing into your windpipe until it’s hard to breathe, and you can’t stop yourself from telling him that you made up a new seasoning blend for popcorn, if he’d maybe like to watch a movie before he goes.

He stands there by the door looking at you just for a split second too long, opens his mouth, closes it, then settles right back onto the couch up next to you. He reaches out an arm and pulls you gently into his side, moving in a way that makes it an invitation and not a demand, while he’s talking about what to watch.

You fall asleep there. So does he.

Things turn a bit funny after that in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. At the surface, everything is the same. But nothing feels the same. Every time there’s a tease, casual touches, close quarters, you have to chant not stupid not stupid not stupid on repeat in your head. He’s just Johnny, that’s all. The guy you could have grown up with.

You keep up the dinners and the weekends, and eventually, finally realize that with him around to take all your extras, you can bake. It’s something you’ve wanted to try forever, but recipes don’t really make single servings, and you never had anyone to pawn off the other 22 muffins or ¾ of the cake onto, or the sheet of croissants, because you absolutely want to try the most fussy, difficult things. And it turns out, when at last he tells you what he does, that Johnny works at the local military base–which at least explains his size–so if he can’t polish something off, well, he knows some blokes.

You’re so excited after that, things almost seem to return to normal. He even comes over and hangs out while you’re baking sometimes. Just knocking about, licking the beaters and the spoons and the bowls, doing dishes as you go, fidgeting with this or that, all while knowing you’re equally as likely to produce something inedible as you are a treat.

Johnny tells you a little about his career one evening. He says that it means he’s in real danger often, there’s a lot of secrecy with people in his personal life, long absences and surprise ones, shit pay, and likely a brief expiration date. (You don’t really let that last one in). He’s got a bit of a funny look in his eyes when he shares about all of it. Quite focused on you, in a way? It makes your cheeks heat. It isn’t as if it’s on you to approve of his life.

But at least now you understand why he’s on his own. And you suppose you’re a bit small, because while you’re incredibly sad for him, part of you is thrilled that it means he’s not likely to be swept away by someone else too soon.

You just gather yourself up, smile, and tell him that at least he’s spending the time he has as best he can, which is a hell of a lot more than a lot of people do–although you personally hope there’s a lot more of it. And that… at the end, you're glad for all the times you're involved.

Johnny’s leaning against the counter while you fold nuts and rum-soaked fruit into a thick batter, his normally busy hands jammed into his pockets, posture a bit off, and so close you almost keep elbowing him on accident, the two of you just bantering back and forth.

You turn your head toward him to fire back, and–

–his mouth is just there, on yours.

He lingers, but doesn’t move otherwise. It’s… testing, you think. You feel his lips shake against yours, in fact, just once.

Your shock dies fast and your eyes slip closed, and while it’s a brief kiss, when he pulls away, you don’t open them. You can’t. Because if you’re honest, you’ve probably been gone for him since the first time you gave him a friendly hug goodnight, and it’s only ever gotten worse. If you open your eyes, this won’t be real, or it won’t have happened, or it will shatter somehow.

After a pause, he runs the back of a finger down your temple, trailing the side of your face to your jaw. You still won’t open your eyes, so he just toys with your face until you do.

He’s got a soul-crushing smile at the corners of his eyes.

“Been wanting to do that for a long time,” he admits into the quiet.

“...Oh?” Your voice is embarrassingly, unhelpfully breathy. It’d probably be mortifying, if you had the mental capacity to fully register embarrassment at the moment.

He pauses, smile making its way to his lips, and curling them up at the corners, bit by bit. He cants his head, just a little, like he wants to see you from another angle. “Aye. …Might’ve been since the first time I saw you at the mailboxes.”

“Oh?”

That had been one of the first times you remember ever seeing him. He never said a word to you other than, “Mornin’” or “Evenin’,” if he said anything at all.

His smile blooms until you can see his teeth. “You were wearing this little shirt. Green, thin. Bit worn, like it was a favorite. Showed a wee spot of skin at your back.” His fingers brush the spot, soft and testing, near the base of your spine, and it jolts you from scalp to toes. “Might’ve… lost some time, thinking about what it’d feel like if I slid my hand up there.” He toys with the hem of your shirt and steps in, voice going deeper and rougher around the edges. “Might’ve imagined pushing it up, getting a bit closer. Really might’ve imagined putting your back up to the slots, mo–”

You kiss him this time, before he can go on, and it’s anything but testing.

And just like everything else about him, this fits.

His mouth fits against yours. His body fits against yours. And as if some band of control snaps, so abruptly you swear you feel it jolt through his skin, he's got you up on the counter, his thighs between yours, both of you already breathing hard.

His hands on you are perfect, calloused, slipping up under the back of your shirt, smoothing and gripping, making your chest and your thighs feel molten. It's ravenous, like he just has to touch your skin, has to get you closer. You arch toward him, fingers running up through his hair, legs curling around his and pulling him nearer.

His hips are carefully, stubbornly, infuriatingly back from you, but the kiss is so full of need, so close, that some of his breaths sound hollow against your mouth. It's like he can't decide whether inhaling or devouring you is more important, so he just doesn't choose.

When you're at the point of moaning unintentionally, of hungry little sounds forcing their way out of your chest, of your hips moving against the counter in desperation, when you're moments from outright begging, Johnny pulls back, and goes further when you try to chase his mouth.

His lips are red and full, his face dark--much worse when he catches sight of how completely drunk you must look--and he's panting. His fingers dig into your hips like he's trying to keep one or both of you from drowning. He squeezes his eyes shut.

You don't mean to, you really don't, but you look down, and lord help you but–

“That looks painful,” you tell him. Your voice sounds like it's been run over a washboard. He's tented against his denim, and his size is… proportional.

…You can't seem to remember how to make yourself look up.

“Really rather not talk about my cock just now, love,” he gravels, fingers clenching briefly against you. His head tips forward onto your shoulder, breaths panting out against your collar bone, leaving you to pick up every bit of heat he's trying to get out of himself.

You hum, teasing. “Shame, because I can't think of anything I'd rather talk ab—”

His big paw covers your mouth. “For the love of every Saint, I’m beggi—”

You cut him off right back. By licking his palm.

He recoils in horror, but the moment your eyes meet, you both burst into laughter, made worse every time he tries to tell you how disgusting that is, something about his sisters as kids, you don't know what else.

You're the first to sober, breathing almost back to normal, thoughts already whirring on fast-forward. You look down, pulling your knees together, hands gripping the edge of the counter. “Are we…. Will we be ok, after this?”

You peek up to see him looking at you like you're daft.

“‘S been the better part of a year,” he says softly, moving forward and running his thumbs over your knees. Asking your legs to make room again, to let him get close again. “Have you really not figured it out, all this time?”

Your legs open hesitantly, and he steps in and, when you look up at him, kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, slow and warm and so tender it feels like your chest is cracking right down the center.

Eyes closed, brows a little pinched, you murmur, “We can't all be SAS savants, Johnny.” Maybe you know. Maybe. But it has been all this time, so maybe you need to hear it, too.

He's still kissing, pace unhurried and savouring, making his way to your jaw and just beneath it. But it's calming now, somewhere between reverential and still trying to bring the both of you down. Himself especially, you think.

“Then let me spell it out for you. Gladly.” He noses up against the bottom of your ear and roughs, “You are fucking stuck with me. Glued. Bloody welded.” He huffs a laugh and leans back upright—but not all the way, not too far back. “This isnae a new thing for me. You know that, right? I just….” He shakes his head and abandons the thought, “Hell, my mates have already been asking when they can come over for dinner, the dobbers.”

Your brows shoot up. “You've talked about me at work?”

He looks down, and while his face is in half a scowl, you'd swear he does it to hide a slight flush, too. “Haven't shut up about you, more like. Should hear what my Lieutenant– Ach, nevermind that.”

You hurry to say that they're welcome any time, but it makes him scowl fully.

“Not exactly keen on the idea just yet.” He puts his arms around you, buries his face in your neck, and just stands there, breathing you in. He mutters into the crook of your shoulder, “Mind if I stay like this for a bit? Just while I, uh… calm down.”

His hips are still well back from you. You’re not sure you’ve ever adored and hated him so much at once.

“I’d really like that,” you tell him softly, arms going around his ribs, hands on his shoulders, chest to chest.

It's warm and resounding like this, so after a spell, without thinking, you bite his shoulder. Just sink your teeth in and leave them there. It’s not even entirely conscious, it's just so comfortable and comforting.

“All good, there, wee piranha?” he eventually asks, a smile in his voice.

You detach instantly. “Ah, sorry! I, uh, might have a tiny bit of an oral fixation.”

He groans. “Are ye trying to do me in?”

“I’m not the one who said we had to stop, Mr. Military Discipline.”

His eyes darken in a flash, but he tamps down on it just as quickly and gets that godawful cocky look on his face, instead. “Pardon me for not wanting to rush something that really matters.” His tone goes so soft at the end that you can’t even be mad at him--exactly as you know he intended, the great bastard.

“How did I not know what a sadist you are?”

And that look means he’s about to make you eat your words.

“Johnny I will happily kill you in your sleep.”

“I could handle that. Means you'd be in my bed, aye?”

He pulls your hands up from the death grip they've found on the edge of the counter and laces your fingers together. “I dinnae….” He clears his throat, frowns. “Just being away on deployment is shite now, and I love what I do. But I miss you while I'm gone, think about you back here all the bloody time, and we havnae even….”

When he doesn’t finish, you whisper, heart clenching with the realization, “You really don't want to rush this.”

He laughs quietly like he wants to argue. But what he says is, “No. I don't. But while that's true….” He steps in, chin ducking, eyes darkening even as they shine, voice lowering. “What do you say we turn the oven off? I've a funny feeling you willnae be getting around to that bake today.”

Masterlist

#johnny soap mactavish #cod soap #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #johnny mactavish #slow burn #friends to lovers #060 #meet cute #comfort fic #demisexual #fluff #johnny x reader #cod

1K notes · View notes

northbirdblog · 2 years ago

Text

Sourdough Panzerotti (Pizza Pockets)

A fun twist from our friday pizza night! Easy and ohh so yummy homemade pizza pockets!

View On WordPress

0 notes

katsbakugou · 1 month ago

Text

𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆

— 𝑨𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂 𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒊'𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌, 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒀/𝒏 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒎, 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒙 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚.

⋆☆　 husband!katsuki bakugo x wife!reader

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆　warning : swearing , p in v , pussy eating , blow job , fluff , comfort , MDNI ! , ( let me know if I missed anything ! )

•❣•୨୧　wc : 2.6k

-ˋˏ authors note : I have no words. Just enjoy! 😭

Katsuki had started working later hours, which meant he was coming home much later than usual. It didn’t worry Y/n too much—she knew their schedules rarely aligned. Still, Katsuki always did his best to make time for her, no matter how tough things got.

It was one of those nights—Katsuki was working late again, another shift that wouldn’t see him home until 2 a.m. His sleep schedule was wrecked, and his body screamed with fatigue, every muscle tight and worn down. Y/n could see the toll it was taking on him. Even with her own packed schedule, she gave everything she could to support him. She did whatever was in her power to ease his burden, to bring him even a small moment of peace. Katsuki stumbled through the door at 3:30 a.m., exhaustion etched into every line of his face, and his body weighed down by stress and fatigue. Y/n was still awake—she had made sure to cook something so he wouldn’t go to bed on an empty stomach. In his worn-down state, Katsuki called out, “I’m home, sweetie,” his voice heavy with pure exhaustion. “Welcome home, baby,” Y/n said softly, her voice tinged with concern. “Come eat—I made something light, easy for you to chew and digest.” With that, she turned and headed into the kitchen, the apron Katsuki had brought her from overseas. "Thank you," he says with a sigh, though his voice carries a hint of affection. "Of course, baby," Y/n replies with a warm smile as she walks over, offering him a steaming bowl of udon and a plate of onigiri. Katsuki accepts the food with a grateful nod, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Thanks for the food," he murmurs before digging in, quickly stuffing his face.

As Katsuki ate, Y/n watched him for a moment before turning to tidy up the kitchen. She glanced back occasionally, noting how his body seemed to relax with each bite of the warm udon. A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she caught sight of him, completely immersed in his meal. Katsuki looked up, brows slightly furrowed in confusion. "What?" he asked, his usual stern expression in place. "Nothing," Y/n giggled, eyes lingering on the tiny bit of food clinging to the corner of his mouth. Katsuki scowled lightly, still unsure why she was laughing. "What, woman?" he asked again, voice firm but curious. "You're that hungry? What happened to the bento I made you this afternoon?" Y/n asked, stepping closer with a teasing smile. She grabbed a napkin and gently wiped the corner of his mouth. Katsuki froze, eyes locked on her as she moved. His cheeks flushed, a soft pink creeping up to the tips of his ears as he stood there, quietly flustered. "I shared some with Deku," he mumbled, glancing away. "Ahh, that explains it, hubby," Y/n chuckled. "You had a tiny piece of cilantro on the corner of your mouth, silly." She turned away, slipping off her apron with a satisfied grin. "Could’ve said something," Katsuki muttered, his tone low but clearly flustered. "And I did," she teased, tossing him a wink. "Tomorrow’s your day off, right?" Y/n asked casually as she dried the plates and set them in the dish rack.

"Yeah, but I’ve still got a ton of damn reports to finish," Katsuki grunted. "Is that so?" Y/n replied, eyeing him curiously as she noticed his body tense again. Without another word, Katsuki walked over to the sink, washing his dishes and helping her tidy up the kitchen. "Echo dropped off stacks of paperwork from today’s mission," he started, his voice low and irritated. "There was a damn terror attack later in the day. Deku, Shoto, and I had to clean up the mess. We ended up catching those idiot villains, but it was a pain in the ass." He rambled on while Y/n sat nearby, listening with a soft smile as he vented. "I’m glad my strong husband saved the day with his two best friends," she said sweetly. Katsuki let out a grunt at her words. "They're not my friends—icyhot and the damn nerd," he muttered. Y/n gave his arm a quick smack. "Hey! Speak nicely, damn it!" she scolded, hands on her hips as she gave him a pointed look. “Damn, woman—that actually hurt,” Katsuki winced, rubbing the spot on his arm where she’d smacked him, still eyeing her with a slight glare. “Deal with it, big guy,” Y/n replied with a dramatic eye roll, drying off the last dish before heading upstairs. Katsuki trailed after her, still grumbling under his breath. As she opened the door to their shared bedroom, Y/n glanced back. “How about we stay in tomorrow? Just relax and catch up with each other?” “Sounds good to me,” Katsuki replied, stepping inside. “I’ll knock out those damn reports in the morning—just need to get the stupid things signed.”

Katsuki settled onto the bed, and his eyes followed her as she began slipping out of her clothes. "I'll be right back," Y/n said as she made her way into the bathroom. A few minutes later, Katsuki followed in, grunting as he peeled off his clothes and stepped into the shower beside her. Y/n looked up, surprised by his sudden appearance. "Got lonely," he muttered, barely meeting her eyes as he reached for the soap and began helping her wash up. After the shower, Katsuki and Y/n began settling in for the night. "Hey, Katsu," Y/n said softly, pulling one of his shirts over her small frame, "do you ever think about having kids someday?" Katsuki slid into bed beside her after setting his alarm for 9 a.m., the soft glow of the screen fading out. "I do," he answered honestly. "But now’s probably not the right time… not with how crazy our schedules are lately." Y/n gave a small nod, understanding, as she nestled in beside him. Katsuki leaned in, pressing a soft, warm kiss to her lips, full of quiet tenderness. Y/n returned it gently.

"Mmm," Katsuki hummed, letting out a low groan as his hand squeezed her side. Y/n deepened the kiss slowly, drawn in by lust. Katsuki’s hands slowly trailed up her body, cupping her chest with a firm squeeze that drew a quiet moan from her lips. "Katsu," Y/n breathed out between moans, her voice melting into the heat of their deepening kiss. The moment grew more intense, rougher, until she found herself lying on her back beneath him. Katsuki’s lips left hers, trailing down her skin until he reached her chest. Her head tilted back, soft moans slipping past her lips as her fingers tangled in his messy ash-blonde hair. He smirked against her skin, taking in the sight of her. Katsuki’s lips trailed lower, pressing soft, lingering kisses along her stomach before moving down to her thighs. He nipped at the sensitive skin playfully, then soothed each spot with gentle kisses, working his way toward the inside of her thigh. Y/n gasped at the sensation, biting back a moan as heat rushed through her. Her breath hitched when his lips brushed more intimately against her center, sending shivers up her spine. A soft whimper escaped her when she felt his fingers slip beneath the fabric of her now-soaked panties. "Katsu…" she whispered, voice trembling with anticipation. He let out a low chuckle, rich and teasing, before pushing the fabric aside with slow intent.

Katsuki slid his middle finger between her folds, drawing out a sharp gasp from Y/n as pleasure pulsed through her. “Katsu, please…” she whimpered, voice trembling with need. He glanced up at her, a smug smirk tugging at his lips. “Please what?” he asked, eyes drinking in the sight of her unraveling. “Please touch me,” she breathed, desperate. “Mmm, I don’t know,” he teased, fingers still lazily brushing her heat. “Has my princess been good enough to deserve it?” Her hips shifted, a soft, needy cry slipping out. “Please, Katsu… I need you.” Chuckling low in his throat, Katsuki gave in. “So damn needy for me.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her soft, aching pussy, letting his mouth work its magic. Each slow lick, every teasing suck on her clit sent her spiraling, her mind slipping into bliss as his tongue pushed her closer to the edge. “Oh fuck—Katsuki,” Y/n gasped, her back arching as pleasure surged through her. Katsuki’s mouth stayed busy, lips and tongue working her over with relentless attention. A sharp moan escaped her as he slid two fingers—his middle and ring—deep inside, thrusting with an urgent rhythm that sent her senses spiraling. “Ahhh, Katsuki!” she cried out, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging gently. He let out a low groan in response, the sound vibrating against her, only driving her further toward the edge. “I’m—ahhh—coming!” Y/n screamed, the tension in her body snapping as waves of pleasure overwhelmed her. Her legs trembled, her entire body shaking with the intensity. Gasping for air, she barely noticed Katsuki rise above her, his lips finding hers, letting her taste the remnants of herself on his mouth.

"Mmmm, you taste good," Katsuki whispered, his voice low, sending shivers down her spine. His fingers brushed against her sore clit, and she winced, a mix of pleasure and pain coursing through her. It was a sensation she had come to crave. Y/n sat up, her eyes locked onto Katsuki's. She pushed him down onto the bed, the soft fabric cradling him as she lowered herself to get a better view. His grey sweats clung to him, outlining the impressive bulge that was straining against the fabric. A wicked smile spread across her face as she pulled down his sweats and boxers, revealing his cock, which sprang free, eager and ready. Y/n licked her lips, her mouth watering at the sight. She gripped onto him, her fingers wrapping around his shaft, feeling the warmth and weight of him in her hand. She leaned in, planting soft kisses along the length of his cock, teasing him with her lips. Katsuki groaned, the sound deep and primal, echoing in the quiet room. "Princess..." he breathed, his voice thick with desire. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You like that, don’t you?" Katsuki grunts, trying to figure a way to respond. His breath hitched as she continued teasing his friend. She took her time, taking every part of him as every sound that escaped his lips run LG like a choir into her ears. Katsuki's body responded to her touch. The way his hip slightly thrust upward as his tip hit the back of her throat. As she continued to suck, she could feel the twitch within him. Y/n pulled back slightly, not letting him come to finish. "Tell me what you want, Katsuki," she teased, her voice a sultry whisper.

He groaned again, his hands gripping the sheets as he fought to maintain control. "I want you to take me, princess. I want to fucking feel you." Her heart raced at his words. She positioned herself above him, her body hovering closely. With a slow, steady motion, she lowered herself onto him, feeling him fill her completely. A gasp escaped her lips as she sank down, his huge cock taking up every gap, every spot in her. Leaving no room for air. Katsuki's hands found her hips, guiding her as she began to move, and their bodies began to rock. "Fuck yes, just like that, oh shit" Katsuki grunted loudly as Y/n picked up the pace. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through her, and she could feel the way his tip was touching her uterus on repeat. Katsuki's groans filled the air, causing him to grip harder onto her sides more tightly, helping her keep in motion. "Fuck woman! You feel so good. So tight, this pussy is mines- ughhh" he gasped, his eyes rolled away. She could feel her own release approaching, the heat pooling in her core as she rode him harder, faster. "Katsuki... I’m so close," she moaned, her voice barely above a whisper. "Shit, me to princess. Just a little more, too tight," he urged, his grip on her tightening as he flipped over to be on top, taking in possession. His hips snapped into her, causing her to scream in pleasure. The two continued, Katsukithrust soon became sloppy as Y/n felt the way he was twitching inside of her. "Fuck- cum with me." Katsuki moans as ge picks up his speed. With one final thrust, they both tumbled over the edge.

"Katsuki!!" Y/n cried out, the sensation washing over her like a tidal wave, and she could feel Katsuki's release milking her insides. With every drop deepening into her core, there was nothing to be left out. Katsuki heaves as his sweaty palms let go of Y/n, pulling out of her core only for her to whine softly from the lost. As they both came down from their high, Katsuki fell down beside her as him and Y/n gaps for air. “You were a bit tight,” Katsuki teased. “Oh, shut the fuck up,” Y/n rolled her eyes, her tone playful. Katsuki chuckled softly. “I’m just messing with you,” he said, scooping her into his arms. “Maybe we should think about starting our family now. “Yeah, maybe we should,” Y/n smiled, resting her head against his bare chest. “I love you, princess,” his voice was gentle, almost vulnerable. “I love you too, Katsu,” Y/n replied with a smile. As the night settled in, the two of them drifted off to sleep, nestled in each other’s arms. Just before Katsuki succumbed to slumber, his mind wandered back to their memories. How had he gotten so lucky to have her as his wife.

#anime #anime fluff #anime smut #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo mha #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo fluff #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #my hero academia #my hero academia smut #katsuki bakugo x female reader

475 notes · View notes

fuckingrecipes · 8 months ago

Note

Cooking question I'm too embarrassed to ask someone IRL: how easy or hard is it to accidentally poison yourself?

I know not to eat things that are too old (past the best-by date, changed color etc), I know not to eat things that were burned. I know to be careful about handling raw meat. I know how to store leftovers. I know to pay attention to instructions on the package and to check if the package is damaged etc.

But at the same time... well, a lot of cooking advice I've seen over the years includes some variation of "try things out, see what you like!" and I'd kind of like to do that. But if the results turn out inedible, I'd like them to be "inedible" as in "tastes very bad" and not "inedible" as in "going to upset your stomach" or "send you to the hospital"

If I try to cook/bake/roast/fry/whatever a food that can be eaten raw, like fruit, what are the odds that the result will be safe to eat?

What about lettuce? I'm aware it would probably taste bad, but would it be safe to try?

If I mix random liquid-y things from my pantry to make a sauce for whatever vegetables&meat I'm frying, what are the odds the result would be safe to eat? (Assuming all the components are edible by themself, I'm NOT talking about cleaning solutions or dish soap or whatever)

What might be some questions I don't even know I should check?

If I try to cook/bake/roast/fry/whatever a food that can be eaten raw, like fruit, what are the odds that the result will be safe to eat? If I mix random liquid-y things from my pantry to make a sauce for whatever vegetables&meat I'm frying, what are the odds the result would be safe to eat?

100% safe. There is a ZERO (0%) percent chance of accidentally creating a poison when cooking a safe-to-eat-raw food item.

You're not going to accidentally create a poison when you mix spices, sauces, or various edible ingredients together.

It's just not how chemistry works. With no exception I can think of, you can't take one safe-to-eat plant or animal and cook it or mix it with another in a way that will create a toxic substance.

Cooking lettuce to eat is safe. Cooking whole fruit is safe. Mixing a hundred sauces together is safe. Go for it.

I could take a sample of every single individually edible item in my fridge, pantry, and spice cabinet, blend it all into a big slurry, cook it & eat a portion of that concoction with confidence that I won't die from it. While it may be gross and taste bad, it won't actually harm me. It won't be a poison, no matter how many different types of food ingredients are tossed into the pot.

I cannot guarantee that you will never upset your stomach, because you could be sensitive to or allergic to an ingredient that I don't know about. It's not a poison to all humans, but it'd be uncomfortable to you. You can only learn about that through experience.

What CAN be dangerous:

Improper sterilization and improper technique can accidentally leave poison-producing bacteria or mold to breed when canning or fermenting foods.

Eating large amounts of a couple specific foods can be risky. There's not a lot of these, so here's a list of the big names to keep an eye on:

Cassia (common) cinnamon has a chemical that is toxic in larger quantities, but harmless in small quantities. If you eat 2 teaspoons a day, every day, you'll run into trouble. If you use Ceylon cinnamon instead, you can eat pretty much as much as you want.

Don't eat a whole nutmeg. It's wonderful when used sparingly, but can be poisonous in large amounts. Same rule as Cassia cinnamon: 2 teaspoons a day, every day, will get you into trouble. Eat less or less often.

Eating too much Liver (the organ) can cause copper toxicity and Vitamin A toxicity. It's great for you when added to a meal once a week, or a couple times a month, but shouldn't be eaten daily or in huge amounts.

Don't swallow cherry pits. They're generally harmless when swallowed whole, because they pass through digestion unscathed, but if they're crushed or cracked open first they release a compound that turns into cyanide when digested. Our body handles cyanide pretty well, but 4-5 cracked pits can become harmful. So: Don't chew them, and don't swallow them on purpose.

There are some foods which need special preparation to be made safe. They're safe COOKED, but not RAW.

Cooked beans & legumes are safe to eat. But if you're starting from a totally DRY bean or lentil (canned are pre-cooked) make sure to soak them in water for several hours and boil until they're FULLY COOKED before you eat. (Fully cooked is when you can crush them easily with a fork, with no gritty or hard center) Undercooked or uncooked beans & legumes can fuck up your guts real good. Very painful, horribly unpleasant, but probably won't kill you.

Cassava (the root vegetable that tapioca is made from) MUST be thoroughly cooked before eating. Raw cassava can be toxic. It's another cyanide bro.

Don't eat raw potatoes - always cook them. If your potatoes have sprouted, don't eat the sprouts & peel any green skin off. Tbh tho, an adult would need to eat at least a pound of green potatoes to get sick. Be reasonably cautious about it. Don't feed green potatoes to small children.

Note: This advice is intended for someone who shops at a grocery for their food, not someone who is foraging for ingredients or is growing their own. There's a lot more opportunities to poison yourself when working with whole plants in the wild, and not the prepared-for-sale ones at a store.

#food safety #cooking #kitchen tips #fuckingrecipes

690 notes · View notes

hungwy · 1 year ago

Text

The Frenchman wore an ugly button up shirt with a cheeseburger pattern battering every inch of fabric. "The cheeseburger is the food of Americans", he explained, "and Americans are vain." The associations between Americans and vanity and Americans and cheeseburgers were so strong he could not help but circuitously assume cheeseburgers were also some product of extravagant New World psychological masturbation, rather than a meal of somewhat pitiful necessity, or worse, a product as European in origins as he was, and even here he could not escape the disinterested rabble of the burgs and becs at home. Here the Frenchman was a strange, grumbling, conceited man rummaging through a cold pile of hash browns in a rickety diner in a forgotten plain of middle America, once again among the poor and old and settled. Meanwhile the burger had spread from far more innovative immigrants than he to all corners of the lands through its satisfaction of need and easy digestion. It was pitiful that such a soul, in trying to keep inflated that buoyant pride which gave him life in this sea of corn and depression, unable to avoid his failure in the arts overseas, felt the need to invent and then attack strange symbols and ideologies through highly unusual means, such as ironically wearing a cheeseburger shirt. In a way, he had brought a sort of avant-garde to the old town, just as misunderstood here as it would've been anywhere else, for not only was it baseless and stupid, but seemingly mad. He would pretend to be obsessed with burgers--in a way he was--in order to more fully accentuate his hatred for them.

#i nearly fell asleep and began rambling on in my head this passage from the early chapters of a book that doesnt exist

2K notes · View notes

fatkish · 2 months ago

Text

How the different Avengers take care of a sick Omega Reader

The Alphas:

Bucky-

it depends on when you get sick.

If he’s still on the run then he rarely ever leaves the your side. The only time he does is to get food. He’d buy fruits, white bread, white rice, and other easy to digest foods. He’d probably skin and boiled some apples before mashing them up to make applesauce

He definitely doesn’t trust anyone to help his omega. Would definitely feed you by hand and be waiting on you constantly. Barely ever lets you leave your nest

If you’re feeling weak then he’ll help you get around and help you bathe. He’ll cuddle with you and make sure you’re drinking water. He’ll always have a large bowl or bucket nearby in case you puke

If it’s after he reunites with Steve and spends time in Wakanda

He��ll immediately alert whoever, either Friday or someone in Wakanda depending on where you guys are

He’ll allow Bruce or whoever to look you over and give you medicine but he will be hovering around watching

Treats whatever the doctors say as gospel and makes sure to follow it. If you want a food that the doctors didn’t specify say was okay then you’re not getting it

Might let Steve look after you if needed

Loki-

How he goes about caring for his omega depends on whether he’s on earth or Asgard

King. Of. Comfort. Is your nest too small? Don’t worry you can have the entire floor if necessary. Blankets not soft enough? He’s getting you the most luxurious and soft blankets ever. Lights too bright? He’s about to fight the fucking sun. There is nothing this man won’t do for his omega

Would personally oversee the chefs who make your meals by using a clone if you’re on Asgard. If you’re on earth then he’s constantly backseat driving while either Bruce, Wanda or Pepper cook for you. They’re the only people he trusts to not poison you accidentally

He would cook your food himself but he wants the best for you and his cooking isn’t. Also, he doesn’t want to leave your side while you’re not feeling well

If you have to take medicine that you don’t like then he’s going to find a way to get it in you. Doesn’t matter the method, if you need this medicine you’re getting this medicine even if he has to trick you or seduce you

If you’re sore or tired and need a bath then he’s more than happy to help. He’ll carefully wash your hair and skin, making sure not to get soap in your eyes. He’s careful not to jostle you too much in case you’re feeling queasy

If you’re having trouble keeping things down then he’ll hold your hair back and sit with you by the toilet. If you’re crying from the constant vomiting then he’ll rub your back and softly sing to you to comfort you

If your nest doesn’t feel right then he’ll gladly be your proxy and build your nest for you as you tell him where to put things. It doesn’t matter how many times he has to repeat the process, as long as you’re comfortable

If you’re just an overall emotional mess then he’ll be more than happy to comfort you in your time of need. If you’re just so sick of feeling sick he might put a sleep spell on you so you don’t have to suffer, he’ll watch over you and make sure you come out feeling better

Thor-

Giant. Puppy. Energy. He will cuddle with you, bring you food, watch tv with you. Whatever makes you feel better, he’s down for it

You want to snuggle and have skin to skin contact? Move over, he’s already lost his clothes and doesn’t mind snuggling. You’re self conscious because you’re sweaty, your hair is a mess, you look like shit? He only sees the most beautiful omega ever and he’s more than happy to prove it to you

Whatever food you need he’s gonna get. If he has to fly across the world just to get these one chips you like only to return and you throw up after eating them, he doesn’t care. As long as it’s to help you, he’ll do whatever he needs to

You want to steal his cape and use it in your nest? He already put it there. The world needs saving, eh, there’s always tomorrow, right now his omega needs him

If you’re fussy and a pain when your sick, he doesn’t mind, you don’t feel well so he’s happy to let you do whatever you need to make you feel better

He’ll tell you stories about his childhood and his adventures as you lay your head on his chest and try to rest

He’ll bring you the fluffiest blankets for your nest and help you build it too, all he wants is for his omega to get better

Steve Rodgers-

Having spent over a decade being sick in the past, he’s no stranger to being ill. He might not be an omega anymore but he knows and remembers what helped him

He’ll make old family recipes just for you, he’ll use everything he remembers from being sick. Cold damp towel on your forehead to help ease the fever, warm blankets and easy to digest meals

He’s more than happy to feed you if you need it. If you can’t keep things down then he’s already got the puke bucket ready for you by your side

If nothing works then he’s happy to do some research even if he struggles with it

Will gladly let Bruce look you over and give you a checkup. If you need medicine and you hate the way it tastes he’ll use every trick in the book to get you to take the medicine. Afterwards he’ll give you praise and lots of snuggles

He’ll help you bathe but he’ll definitely be shy about it. He has to clean your crotch and chest? His face is red as he looks away but he’s gentle and thorough making sure you get clean

If you have an accident like throwing up on yourself because you couldn’t reach the bucket or the toilet fast enough and your embarrassed, he’ll smile softly and reassure you that whatever you did, he’s probably done at least twice. He’ll even tell you embarrassing stories about himself and have Bucky join in if it makes you feel better

Bruce/Hulk-

There’s only one thing these two can agree on and it’s that they love/care about you

The moment Bruce realizes you’re sick, he goes full mother hen mode. Partially because he himself is an omega, but also because it’s the doctor in him. He brings you to his lab or he brings his equipment to you and does whatever tests he needs

Hulk will be yelling at him in his head the entire time to let him out so he can take care of you while Bruce does his check up on you

Bruce somehow manages to convince Hulk to let him run the tests so he can make sure your condition is nothing serious. Once they both know that it’s just the flu and you won’t die or need some exotic/fancy treatment then Bruce relents and allows Hulk to care for you

Hulk is definitely a cuddler, he climbs into your nest and lets you use him as a bed. He’s got his arms around you and holds you keeping you warm. C’mon, the guys practically a giant gamma powered heater

Hulk will wrap you up in a blanket burrito and purr to you, Hulk can be surprisingly soothing and he holds nothing back, he knows he can’t smash the germs making you sick, so he provides moral support while your body fights

Hulk listens to Bruce’s instructions on how to care for you and make you food. If his form is too inconvenient then he’ll let Bruce handle the intricate things like cooking or getting your medicine

Bruce has a Hulk sized tub so Hulk can bathe, Hulk helps you and is gentle with you as he washes your hair and body. Makes sure you’re nice and dry using his big towel

Hulk gently rubs your back as you puke and holds your hair back. He doesn’t like seeing you so miserable

If you want to watch movies then Hulk will cuddle with you even if you fall asleep and he hates the movie, anything for his omega

The Betas:

Scott Lang-

This sweet baby is immediately on his feet and worried for you

He might not be an alpha but that has nothing to do with how much he loves/cares for you

This lovable goofball is running around like a chicken with his head cut off at the first sign of the sniffles

Will definitely get the ants to help clean the house and make sure to sanitize everything so that the germs are gone

If you’re puking then he’ll braid your hair and put it in a bun so it’s out of the way, he has a daughter so his papa instincts are in full swing

He helps you get in and out of your nest, bringing you whatever you need and making sure you’re warm and cozy

If you’re feeling down or tired of being sick then he’s more than happy to cheer you up. Cue the magic tricks and playing rockband with the ants

He’s more than happy to cuddle with you if it makes you feel better, anything for you

He doesn’t mind if your nose is stuffed or runny, he’s got plenty of tissues and even makes a game of seeing how many he can throw in the trash from afar

Tony Stark-

Now he knows he’s not the best with caring for sick people but as the team’s omega, which he personally recruited, he takes his job seriously

He’ll have Bruce look you over and make sure it’s just the flu before making sure that you have everything you need

If you specifically want him to snuggle with you then move over, he’s snuggling but your watching a movie too

He’ll have either Jarvis or Friday monitor you so he can ensure that you’re eating and staying hydrated. If you’re puking they’ll alert him so he can make sure you get easy to digest meals

He’ll watch bad movies with you so the both of you can roast the movie. For example: an old sci/fi with terrible visual effects that he’ll keep commenting on. That or you’ll watch YouTube videos of people failing and doing stupid stuff

He’ll gladly order whatever you need no matter how ridiculous, if a dozen dancing cacti make you feel better, you’re going to get double

You’re not allowed to move from your nest unless it’s to use the bathroom. He’s very controlling but in a loving sense. You don’t move to get anything, that’s why he’s here, he’ll get what you need so don’t move

He almost becomes like a worried parent, constantly hovering over the line of ‘its just a bruise’ and ‘everyone panic! It’s the return of the plague’. He’s constantly a mix between relaxed and incredibly worried

#tony stark x y/n #Tony stark x omega reader #mcu omegaverse #tony stark x reader #steve rodgers x reader #alpha steve rogers #steve rogers #x omega reader #thor x reader #alpha Thor #loki x reader #alpha Loki #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #alpha bucky barnes #scott lang x reader #mcu avengers x reader #bruce banner x reader #hulk x reader

162 notes · View notes

strwberri-milk · 2 months ago

Note

hiii

idk if you’ve done this yet

but can you do the Lnds boys taking care of a sick reader? I got the flu and it’s not fun 😭

ty ily -😼

Zayne/Sylus/Caleb? Amazing to have by your side when you're sick. You just give a general description of your symptoms and he's off to the store, buying you medicine and getting you some treats for when you're no longer sick. Yep - he doesn't indulge you when you're feeling well, focusing on making you foods that are both good for you and easy for you to digest.

He also condemns you to bedrest and tells you to focus on sleeping. Your well being is his priority and unfortunately that means you're stuck eating boring food, doing boring things, and sleep in your boring bed because he's too busy to stay with you. He tried - he definitely tried - but the only one who's successful at getting out of work is Zayne because he's an actual liability to his patients. Your lover is far too important at work for Sylus and Caleb to be able to stay at home but he will manage to swing it somehow, convincing people to just hold off on the in person stuff he has to do for now and just call him when they need things.

He is careful not to get sick as well, not wanting to get ill then be unable to take care of you. Even if he did manage to get sick he'd just end up ignoring himself and focus all his attention on you, making sure that you feel better before he even thinks about it.

Xavier sucks at cooking so trying to get homemade meals that focus on making you feel better would not work super well. They also don't taste great but thankfully, you really can't tell because of how sick you are. He can at least keep the home clean and take care of himself. He also knows enough to pick out the best medicine and stuff for you so you can get well soon.

His immune system is strong so he isn't too worried about getting sick after spending time with you. He won't really get sick as long as it's not like some wild super bug so he's able to spend a lot of time with you as you rest and relax without worrying. You're glad you don't need to think about that either, able to just spend time with him.

Rafayel whines at first when he thinks you've just got a tickle but when he realise you're actually sick he'll confine you to bed in an overly protective manner. He doesn't want you getting sicker and also just wants to make sure you're comfortable in your time of need. He'll cook for you and spoil you with attention, refusing to leave you alone despite the fact that he's very much so going to get sick from it.

The two of you end up in bed miserable together, but at least you're together. You just kinda relax and take things slow, ordering a bunch of takeout and trying to remember what medicine to take and when. Tons of joined naps - but they're gonna be kinda gross and sweaty if you've both got fevers and stuff.

#love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #l&ds x reader #zayne x reader #lads zayne x reader #l&ds zayne x reader #xavier x reader #l&ds xavier x reader #lads xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #l&ds rafayel x reader #lads rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #lads sylus x reader #l&ds sylus x reader #caleb x reader #l&ds caleb x reader #lads caleb x reader

157 notes · View notes

honeytonedhottie · 1 year ago

Text

simple ways to improve ur diet⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍈

the saying "you are what u eat" is TRUE. a quote that rly resonated with me and inspired this post was : you are what u eat, so dont be fast, cheap, easy, fake and not enough.

drink water - buy urself a cute water bottle and DRINK WATER. water is literally life. literally just drink water, its so worth it, for ur skin, hair, nails, immune system etc

TAKE UR VITAMINS

start drinking teas - i started drinking peppermint tea before bed every single day and its so PLEASANT and it literally improves ur health on multiple different levels. drink herbal teas, find one that u rly like and indulge in it. one that i rly loved was peach and strawberry oolong tea. one that i also rly recommend is green tea

peppermint tea : its so refreshing and easy to drink if ur someone who dislikes tea. it improves digestion, reduces pain, eliminates inflammation, relaxes ur body + mind, and boosts ur immune system

green tea : great for ur metabolism, rich in antioxidants etc

start eating fruit - FRUIT IS BETTER THAN CANDY and i'll stand on this till i die. especially if ur someone who has a massive sweet tooth (like me) stock up on fruits and enjoy them. i like to eat my fruits frozen (like green grapes or watermelon)

eat ur vegetables - it doesn't even have to be drastic but you need to be incorporating vegetables into ur diet every single day. i usually like to eat a small serving with every meal, or i'll have one meal a day where its purely veggies (like a salad). snack on vegetables, vegetables r so delicious and so good for u.

u can get vegetables into ur diet without having to eat them by themselves, you can eat them in pastas, put them in smoothies, turn them into sauces, dip them in sauces etc, just EAT THEM

cut out soda - if u can't cut out soda entirely pls minimize it because its so bad for u + it throws off ur pH balance

treat urself - always remember that ur diet should be like : 20% what u crave and 80% whats good for u. dont deny urself the foods that u wanna eat. eating healthy doesn't have to be boring and eating healthy doesn't mean that u can't enjoy the foods that u love. literally let urself live.

meal prep - if ur someone that often forgets to eat or u just dont have time to make a meal, try meal prepping. make urself snack boxes so that then u can stay eating consistently and if u haven't eaten yet, go eat something 💗

3K notes · View notes

teal-fiend · 3 months ago

Text

misbehaving

Summary: a pred is annoyed at their observer, so they take matters into their own hands

Content: vore, ambiguous ending, digestion mention, hunger, foodplay, pred pov

the predator sprawled on the couch.

"Ughhh," they groan, pressing both hands to their stomach like a wounded soldier. "I'm starving." A dramatic sigh.

their stomach visibly concaving as they suck in a breath, only to release it with a miserable huff.

"How could you just sit there while I waste away like this?"

You ate yesterday," the observer points out.

The predator whines, stretching out a foot to nudge their shin.

"And? That was so long ago. Do you have any idea how fast my body works through prey? I'm practically hollow inside."

"You're fine."

The predator tips their head back, groaning again, like some forlorn beast on the edge of death.

"Noooo, I’m not fine. My stomach’s literally caving in on itself. You’re so cruel for letting me suffer."

The observer watches, unimpressed.

"If you’re really that hungry, go get your own meal."

The predator pouts, curling in on themselves like a cat.

"I hate hunting. It’s so much effort. Why can’t they just come to me?" Their voice drops into a sulky grumble.

"What do you want from me?"

The predator's eyes gleam "A meal. Obviously."

"No."

The predator groans, flopping back down onto the couch like they’ve been shot.

"You’re the worst. you know that."

"Yeah, yeah." The observer crosses their arms, watching the predator curl around themselves, sulking. "You’ll live."

The predator watches the observer for a moment, an idea forming in their hungry brain

---

"-urp"

they moan, stretching out on the couch, their now-distended belly rising and falling with deep, contented breaths. They press a hand to their gut, giving it a slow, indulgent rub.

"That’s so much better."

"You ate me."

"Uh-huh." The predator’s voice is syrupy with satisfaction.

"You ate me," they repeat, more accusatory this time, pressing a hand to the fleshy walls around them.

The predator burps loudly in response, barely bothering to stifle it.

"Oops."

"Oops?" The observer shoves against the stomach lining, feeling it squish under their palms.

"Told you I was starving." They give their belly a pleased little pat, which jostles the observer inside, making them grunt.

The observer scowls, bracing themselves as the stomach lazily moves around them.

"Spit me out."

The predator just burps again, then smacks their lips.

"Nah."

"You’re the worst."

The predator just smirks, rubbing lazy circles over their gut, listening to the sounds of their stomach working.

"Well," they murmur, sinking deeper into the couch, "guess you'll live."

Frustrated, the observer kicks the preds gut, and tries in vain to wriggle their way out.

"You’re so squirmy," they remark, voice syrupy with amusement. They give their gut a little shake, making the observer jolt as the stomach sloshes around them. "Mmm, I like it. Feels nice."

"And you're so cozy in there. Bet you'd digest real easy."

The observer stiffens, pressing back against the stomach walls.

"You wouldn't."

The predator moans dramatically, shifting their belly so the observer is jostled again.

"But I might," they tease, their voice tinged with playfulness. Their stomach lets out another slow, heavy gurgle, and they press their fingers into a particularly loud spot, rubbing deep.

"Mmm, you hear that? My stomach’s already thinking about it…"

The observer struggles, but the pred simply rises to their feet, their gait lanky as they slink over towards the bedroom mirror, full gut in tow.

They lean close to the mirror, tilting their head, running their hands over the round curve of their belly. Their reflection grins back, sharp teeth flashing, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Wow," the predator purrs, pressing their hands into their gut, feeling the way it squishes under their touch.

"You look good on me."

The observer growls from inside, their muffled voice vibrating through the predator’s stomach.

"You’re insufferable."

The predator laughs, giving their belly a little bounce, watching the motion ripple in the mirror.

"And you’re in my stomach. Funny how that works, huh?"

Their fingers trail down their middle, tracing slow, teasing circles.

"I mean, usually you’re the one bossing me around, but now..." They sway their gut from left to right, making the observer slosh back and forth.

"Now you’re just a nice, heavy little lump, right here."

"You’re so much easier to deal with like this. No barking orders, no nagging—just all warm, tucked away where you belong."

"I don’t—" The observer kicks, but the stomach glorps in response, shifting around them, gripping tight.

"Oof." The predator grins, rubbing the spot where they felt the kick. "Feisty, huh?"

The predator is having too much fun. They take out their phone from their pocket.

They adjust the phone, tilting it slightly to capture the best angle in the mirror.

Their stomach juts out in a smooth, round curve, shifting subtly as the observer squirms inside.

The pred lets their fingers glide over the swell of their gut, smirking.

"Ohhh, these are coming out great," they purr.

"What are you doing?" The observer's voice is muffled, edged with suspicion.

The predator hums innocently, snapping another shot.

"Oh, nothing, just documenting."

They flick through the photos, grinning. "Wow, you make such a cute stomach bulge."

The observer squirms in protest.

The pred laughs, "Ohhh, I should post these on my story." They shift their weight, pushing out their stomach, exaggerating the curve of their belly. "'Hey oomfies, look at who I just had for dinner!' Yeah? Should I tag you?"

"You better not-"

The pred chuckles as the observer thrashes.

Grglll…

Their stomach lets out a slow, deep gurgle. The observer stiffens inside.

The predator blinks, rubbing at their gut as warmth starts to pool in their middle.

"Ooh…"

They press their fingers in slightly, feeling the way their stomach tightens—a slow, creeping heat building inside them.

Their body, always so eager to take what it's given, is starting to digest.

"Hey—" the observer snaps. "What was that?"

The predator swallows, their smug grin faltering slightly as another glorp echoes from within. Their belly tightens around the observer, the heat thickening under their skin.

"Uh… nothing," they lie, rubbing at the side of their stomach, trying to soothe it. Hoping it'll calm down.

"That was your stomach," the observer accuses.

"That was your stomach deciding I look like food."

"noooo," the predator says, even as a slow warmth spreads deeper through their gut. "I mean, kinda? But like— casually."

They shuffle, trying to ignore the slow, syrupy way their belly is kneading around its meal. The observer feels like a thick ball of honey inside them. Their predator brain wants to turn them soft, squishy.

The observer pushes against the walls.

"You better not digest me."

The predator lets out a slow, contented breath, rubbing lazy circles into their belly. "Mmm…"

"HEY."

"If I do digest you, I’m totally posting a before-and-after." They grin, tapping their stomach. "You might just be a flat tummy by morning."

The observer kicks. Hard.

"Ow—okay, okay," the predator laughs, pressing their fingers into their gut to calm the movement. "Geez, relax, you know you'll only make it worse doing that."

Of course the observer knows that. They still immediately.

The predator swallows, a shiver running down their spine that has nothing to do with digestion. Oh, they are so dead when they let the observer out.

The thought sends a flutter through their chest, excitement mingling with dread.

They drag their hands over the swell of their gut, smoothing over the tight curve of their skin, feeling the subtle shifts as the observer squirms. "Mmm, better enjoy this while I can..."

the pred had another idea. They went to the kitchen, and grabbed a soda bottle

The predator gulps down a mouthful, feeling the cool carbonated liquid rush down their throat before splashing into their already-packed stomach.

The pred burped, carbonation getting to them, and giggled.

"That'll..... uurp~ that will help stop digestion...haha"

Glorp. Blorrrp.

The observer kicks inside.

"Help?! You’re drowning me in here!"

"dramatic much?" The predator leans against the counter, swirling their belly like a big, living water balloon, listening to the sloshing sounds.

"Ooooh, listen to that."

They squeeze their gut gently, making the liquid slosh inside. "You hear that? It’s like an ocean in there."

"LET ME OUT."

The pred just laughs, rubbing their gut in lazy circles. "Ohhh, but I’m not done yet."

They turn toward the fridge, eyes scanning for something to really distract their stomach. Something to keep their gut busy so it doesn’t focus on, well… turning the observer into dinner.

Left over pizza. Perfect

"Mmmf, you don’t mind, right? Just a little snack. Gotta make sure my stomach stays distracted."

Food lands on the observer's head. The pred smirks as they feel them stir

They give their gut another slow slosh, feeling the mixture of water, food, and their very angry occupant shift inside them. Their stomach lets out a long, drawn-out glorp.

They decide to top it off with the rest of the soda. They guzzle it down, feeling the fizz in their throat, stomach

And then—

"UrrRRRAAAP!"

The predator lurches forward, gripping their belly as a massive burp forces its way out.

They exhale heavily, blinking in surprise before breaking into laughter. "Oh my god—"

Inside, the observer is seething. "I SWEAR TO GOD—"

"Hoooh," the pred groans, pressing a hand to their overfilled belly. "Okay, now I’m just waiting for all this to settle."

They stagger over to the couch, flopping down dramatically, their stomach bouncing slightly with the motion. Another deep gurgle rolls through them, and they sigh.

They feel their observer churning, angrily fighting with their stomach, and the food they are sharing the space with

They smirk, giving their belly a teasing shake.

"I like carrying you around. You make a great food baby."

A kick presses back against their hand, and they snicker.

"Aww, someone’s feisty," they coo, "Too bad there’s nothing you can do about it~"

Another slow, bubbly belch rolls out of them, and they sigh, stretching back against the cushions.

The predator lazily pulls out their phone, flipping it to video mode as they settle deeper into the couch.

Their belly is loud—constant, bubbling gurgles, wet glorps, and the occasional thump from inside as the observer squirms in frustration.

They smirk, angling the camera down.

A long, drawn-out groan rolls through their gut, thick and heavy, like the churning of a washing machine.

The pred grins wider, rubbing slow circles over the dome of their stomach, pushing down just enough to make the liquid inside slosh audibly.

They let out a slow, bubbling burp, their stomach sloshing in response.

They couldnt wait to show this to the observer later.

#v.ore #tw vore #soft vore #v/ore #vore fic #vore writing #Safe vore #vore digestion #Voreblr #Non fatal vore #implied digestion

261 notes · View notes

paddlescuddlesbubblesgurgles · 1 year ago

Text

A Series Of Firsts

I remember the first time my scale read ‘error’. It ticked up to 408lbs and then the dreaded letters appeared.

I remember the first time I ate enough for more than 3 people. Just 3 is somewhat common for me.

I remember the first time my knees hurt just from trying to stand up. I’m really heavy. That was 40lbs ago.

I remember the first time I became so full my overhang was lifted slightly off my fatpad. So full I was distended to absurdity.

I remember the first time I learned if I lifted up my gut with my arms, it relieved my lower back pain.

I remember the first time a chair broke beneath my weight, I would also end up breaking a couch, and a bed. Then a toilet cracked beneath my weight.

I remember the first time a car noticeably sunk and the metal squealed when I sat inside it, and then the reverse when I got out.

I remember the first time my belly popped a button off a shirt, then it would rip one. Same for my waist breaking buttons off pants, and my thighs ripped holes in the legs. I have also destroyed a few pairs of underwear when I’ve sat down.

I remember the first time I realized my chest is bigger than many others’ chests. Usually mine are bigger.

I remember the first time my side profile in the mirror shocked me. Can I be this wide? That is constant now.

I remember the first time I became winded just bending over it squatting down for longer than a minute or two.

I remember the first time someone implied I need an extended mechanical grabber to pick things up because I’m so fat that my belly prevents me.

I remember the first time I realized I’m getting too fat for easy penetration.

I remember the first time I needed to lift up my belly and get my arm underneath it to pleasure myself.

I remember the first time I was so stuffed full I couldn’t reach. My belly was stopping my completely no matter the position.

I remember the first time I realized nothing in most clothing stores fits me. I cannot shop in person usually.

I remember the first time I outgrew my favorite shirt. This happens constantly now.

I remember the first time I was out of breath from simply standing up after stuffing myself. This would create an inescapable pattern.

I remember the first time I ate an entire cake at once. I actually bought 2, couldn’t finish the second.

I remember the first time I ate so much I fell asleep trying to digest it. An extra large pizza from a local place that I ate 90% of.

I remember the first time I cured my insomnia by eating so much I couldn’t stay awake.

I remember the first time I learned my body was desirable, that there are people who love pigs. They love gigantic, overfed bellies.

I remember the first time I started trying to belch to make more room inside my gut. Pretty much every meal now.

I remember the first time I realized a single thigh of mine is bigger than most people’s entire torsos. My belly can threaten someone’s entire body in size.

I remember the first time I ate 15 cookies in a row. Regular habit now.

I remember the first time someone told me to count calories and start overeating every meal. I had 7-10k every single day for 12 days straight.

I remember the first time I ate enough for 8 people. An entire pizza, and 3 entrees completely inside my belly, with a 2 liter Diet Coke.

I remember the first time I ate so much I couldn’t swallow anymore, and my jaw hurt, and I was actively fighting to keep it down. More common now.

I remember the first time I ate an entire tailgater tray from a fast food restaurant.

I remember the first time I ate 8 combos worth of food. Almost the entire menu.

I remember the first time I smothered someone with just my belly. Completely enveloped their head in my overhang.

I remember the first time someone made fun of me and called me fat in public. Unprompted stranger. That hurt.

I remember the first time I wanted my belly to hang to my knees, and become so much bigger than it is now. That was 30lbs ago or so.

I remember the first time I considered myself too fat, too heavy for myself.

I remember the first time I strongly considered going much further past my max weight, just because someone asked me to.

I remember the first time I outgrew a measuring tape. Those 60”s just aren’t enough for my body now.

I remember the first time I realized I am living to eat.

479 notes · View notes