#how to deliver prep meals

[happymealprep]

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[sincerelybubbles]

"oh i could never date bakugo because he's too mean"

to you? mean? oh, darling, no.

the second bakugo confirms that you're his and his only, it's a one way ticket to being spoiled beyond anything you could imagine. his fight to be the best hero translates line for line into your relationship.

it's "whatever you want" mumbled after every question, it's "the fuck you think you're doing?" when you try to lift a finger toward your wallet, and it's "you drive me insane" with a scowl and smiling eyes, tugging you closer by the hip to soften his words.

trust me, you can't even go a day without him showing up in your relationship in some way. he's working late at his agency, swamped with paperwork? you're greeted in the morning with what seems to be the entire stock of the local flower shop down the street. he's sent away for a week on a mission? when your phone isn't buzzing with texts updating you (nothing too flowery, but it's enough to remind you he's thinking of you), you're eating food he's meal prepped for you or had delivered to your door. it's sunday? he's shoving your drink of choice under your nose and insisting that you spend at least an hour longer in bed.

if you're also a hero, on the streets fighting alongside him, he respects you above any other hero. if you're at home, in college or working in some other career, he's bragging to his sidekicks about how "fucking cool" whatever you're working on currently is.

and then there's the way he would never leave you with any doubts. does he suck at communicating his feelings directly? yes. without hesitation, yes. but he's there and he's blushing and spitting out assurances of his care for you until you're able to soften his jaw with time, he's never shying away from touching you to make up for where his words lack, he's playing your favorite songs in the car without having to be asked and he's always jumping at any opportunity to make your life easier.

(it helps, of course, that you spoil him tenfold by being there for him, holding his hand when nightmares prevent any further touches in the middle of the night and smiling so sweetly at him when he walks through the door to see you. i mean, how could he not adore the only person who sticks around and peeks past the vulgarity of who he is to see the good he fights so hard to maintain? something about you makes him feel human, worth emotion, worth love. he's willing to do whatever it takes to be "the fucking best at this boyfriend shit")

[hiraethwrote]

Been thinking a lot lately about how Satoru doesn’t really cook.

Growing up the way he did, everyone was pulling from every direction, unloading immense responsibility on him because of the Six Eyes. So normalcy wasn’t in the cards for him.

From a young age, his schedule was packed from dusk to dawn with all kinds of tasks embedded on him. And so, dinner was simply a time of day for him more than anything else. He was served a mediocre dish, then he had to return to his responsibilities.

And then he moved to Tokyo, and was finally blessed with some newfound freedom. But he didn’t want to waste this spare time learning how to cook, especially when Jujutsu Tech served him perfectly okay meals three times a day. Who was he to not take advantage of such privilege?

Any interest of developing some culinary skills was also smothered by his insane sweet tooth. Something he’d picked up as a way to help him, quickly evolved into never ending munching — forget proper food.

Sadly for him, the number of responsibilities didn’t decrease as he entered adulthood — rather the opposite. And now, as he was technically a grown up, there was a lot less tolerance for nonsense. People expected things from him now.

Yet again, cooking dinner was deprioritised. He also didn’t see a reason to devote time to cook when it was so much easier to just have it delivered right on his doorstep. He had the means to support such an expensive luxury, so why not?

Sitting down by the dining table after a long day of duties, a warm meal welcoming him with delightful smells never even became something he missed, seeing as he didn’t know what it was he had sacrificed for choosing the easy path.

Then you came creeping into his life.

You in general, had been a surprise to say the least. After everything, pursuing anything romantic wasn’t something that had been on his list of priorities either. But once he met you, he couldn’t not try to make you his.

Everything escalated pretty quickly, and it was fairly early on that you decided you wanted to cook for him for the first time.

“I got some insane pasta cravings. You down for that tonight?” You had your phone resting between your shoulder and your cheek while you scanned the grocery isles for what you needed.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he answered on the other end of the line. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

You couldn’t help but giggle a little at his comment, a tiny bit confused by what he meant. “Well, duh. I’m not making two separate pasta dishes.”

“Oh,” a moment of silence from your boyfriend as the reality set in. “Yeah, no, of course. Just habit I guess,” smearing on with his usual, charismatic voice to play off his little slip.

Because poor Satoru had only assumed you would be ordering in, since it was all he really knew. The concept of prepping and cooking a dish from scratch hadn’t even crossed his mind.

A few hours later, the same usual comfort that came from your company, welcomed him along with an assortment of the most delicious smells once he arrived at your apartment.

“Ah, perfect timing,” you smiled, rushing to give him a small peck on the lips when he joined you in the kitchen before quickly hopping back to putting the finishing touches on dinner.

A small sensation of worry filled you, because this was the first time you had witnessed Satoru completely silent. Taking the time to turn your head over your shoulder to make sure he was alright, you saw his eyes just taking in the scenery of the set table and the somewhat messy kitchen.

“Just take a seat, Satoru,” you chuckled nervously, nodding in the direction of what had become his designated chair. “It’s almost ready.”

You saw a weak nod before he slowly shuffled over to the table and sat down. He swallowed the small lump in his throat when you put the casserole on the table in front of him.

“Dinner is served. But it’s hot, so just, be careful.”

When he didn’t move a muscle, you tried to act as if things were normal and served yourself first, hoping he would eventually tell you whatever it was that had gotten into him.

“Satoru?”

Your soft voice of concern snapped him back to reality, his familiar smile finding its way back to his expression — though he wasn’t truly himself quite yet.

“Looks absolutely delicious!” He gushed and finally filled his plate.

You continued to eye him with some suspicion as he started to dig in. Something you couldn’t put your finger on, washed over him when he took the first bite. Then another, and another, and another — then he was suddenly ogling you with the widest eyes you could remember seeing on him.

“This might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten!”

You pursed your lips to choke back the exaggerated laugh that was about to burst out at his statement, that you were convinced had to be a lie.

“Is that so?” You teased, carefully stepping deeper into the topic to see if he was actually being truthful.

“Babe, this-“ he cut himself off, awe overtaking him. “Where did you learn this?”

You shrugged casually. “I’ve just picked up a few things over the years, I guess.”

“What else can you make?”

“Uhm, I don’t know,” you stuttered, a little taken aback by his surprising enthusiasm to what you considered to just be a simple pasta dish. “Several things.”

“Could you please cook for me tomorrow? And whenever you have the time?”

“Of course,” you smiled, shoulders resting when he now seemed to be totally fine, finishing his first portion only to take yet another huge serving.

Because to Satoru, it was more than just dinner.

Dinner and eating had always just been yet another task he did simply because he knew he had to eat. Never had there been any deeper meaning to it — but you showed him it could definitely be more.

To him, it also became a sign of devotion. You were willing to put in the time and the work to make him something nice, then you would get to enjoy it together. No one had really done that for him before.

Finally it was Satoru's turn to enjoy the domesticity of something as mundane as a home cooked dinner.

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[bangtanmix73]

Being Minsung’s “housewife”

Headcannons + a little drabble

Warnings: all the filth, idol!au (skip the last four • paragraphs if you don’t like that), the slightest bit of fluff, aftercare, a little praise, degradation, mentions of overstimulation, crying, possessive Minsung, double penetration, master kink, breeding, phone sex I think that’s it?

-

Now the normal duties of a housewife includes cleaning the house, preparing dinner for your husband(s) when they get home.

While you do clean and make dinner, Minho’s and Jisung’s version of a housewife is a bit different.

Their version of a housewife is coming home to cute little kitten already prepped and leashed for her masters.

It doesn’t matter to them what you’re doing or what time they come home or what time they’re horny, you’re being woken up or bent over and fuck until they’re satisfied.

Can’t take anymore? Well, you’re going to.

You’re getting fucked until you cry, can’t walk, simply pass out from pleasure only to get woken up by Minho switching places with Jisung, or all of the above.

To them, you’re there to be stuffed full and bred by them. But don’t worry, you’ll be treated like a princess afterwards for being such a good girl.

Besides aftercare, they take you shopping, whether that is to buy clothes, accessories, games, it doesn’t matter, swipe that card, baby.

While they’re mean in bed 90% of the time, they do have moments where one subs with you or both sub for you, or everyone is in the mood for soft, subby sex.

On more extreme nights, at least one of you is pushing through exhaustion to make sure your lovers are satisfied before worrying about yourself.

No matter what sex is like that day, aftercare is always 100%. Depending on the sex, you three would take warm baths together, massages, takeout or a meal prepared for you, simple cuddling or all the above.

God forbid you make them jealous. You’d be bent over the closest surface, if not the floor, no hole would be left unused.

They’d get possessive. Now, thats expected, but it gets so much worse when they’re jealous.

“You stupid slut, can’t you see you’re ours?”

“You are our whore, our cumdump, our wife”

“What happened to our good girl? The one that obeys her masters, not the one that sluts her pussy out to everything with a pulse.”

You are theirs and theirs alone.

While they love touring, preforming for their fans, they miss you so much. They call everyday, “I love you”’s and “how’d your day go?” is passed around.

Some nights, after performing, the adrenaline still runs high. They call you, forcing you to watch Minho abuse Han’s poor hole while you touch yourself, if you’re allowed to at all. During these nights, you’re always surprised the hotel didn’t kick them out with how loud your quokka-like lover is.

One of their favorite parts of tour ending is coming home to you. They had missed their wife even though you called everyday, at least long enough so say “I love you.”

Another part they love is how tight you had gotten after months of not having their big cocks stretch you out.

Minho tsks as he fingers swipe through your folds, "wet already, what a greedy whore." He delivers a slap to your cunt, making you squeal.

Jisung pushed his tip into you from behind, "fuck and she's still so tight."

Minho lifts you up, your legs wrapping around him, his cock prodding at your entrance.

Minho nods at Jisung. You feel Jisungs tip against your entrance, next to his husbands.

"W-wait, what are you doing?"

"Stretching you out," Minho pushes into you, Jisung following after.



-

Taglist: @binnies-minsung-fanclub @lyramundana

[nanamis-princess]

Wait, since you're on your period.... Might as well write a fic of jjk period comfort fics? Pretty please?

They comfort you while your on your period: jujitsu kaisen edition

Genre: fluff!

Characters: nanami kento, Gojo Satoru, geto suguru, Shoko ieiri x menstruating reader

A/n: thank you so much for the suggestion! Requests are open and im working on them in the order I’ve received! Master list

Nanami Kento

he’s prepared a few days before you get it, restocked your pads/tampons along with panty liners

as many others think he does track your period for you, it started because of a pregnancy scare in the beginning of your relationship

he encourages eating whatever you’d like during that time of the month, you want that cake for breakfast? He’s going to get it for you before his shift or he gets it delivered if he’s working.

^^ although he doesn’t mind cooking for you and waiting for you on hand and foot either.

your laying on the couch with a book as you just took a nice warm shower when your phone dings. A text from kento “hello darling i order you something, it should be there shortly. I promise i will make this up to you, i feel awful for not being there. I love you i will be home as soon as i can” you smile at your phone before going to the door. A candle you told him previously about with your favorite snacks along with a bottle of ibuprofen.

Cringing at the cramps as you take your ibuprofen while the heating pad warms up, kento walks in your shared bedroom with the plate of cake along with the drink of your choice. You look up at him with admiration, his light blue sweater sleeves rolled up just below his elbows revealing the watch you got him for Christmas, his hair still intact from this morning just one small strand leaning to the side complimenting his face. Giving you a soft smile while holding the plate and cup for you as you sit back in bed. “You’re so pretty kento” you say looking up at him, he chuckles with a small smile on his face. “You’re pretty too my love” he hums as he leans into kiss your forehead.

Gojo Satoru

you guys must be synced together because he acts like a diva right along with you.

he is stocked on sweets though, you’ll never catch him lacking with sweets. He’s got strawberry candies in his nightstand, he always has some type of cake or bakery good in the kitchen from a local shop. He has a candy dish by the door.

he does become your little errand boy though, anything you need he’s getting it for you. Honestly you tell him to jump he’ll ask you how high. You have the strongest sorcerer wrapped around your finger

you guys have a self care evenings as many times as you want, he’s sitting at the end of your bed rubbing your feet facing the tv with under eye masks on. “Okay but why would she trust him? He’s obviously been hiding something and he doesn’t seem trustworthy” he shakes his head.

The smell of essential oils fills your nose as you lay on your stomach as you feel cold hands meet your skin “your hands are so cold” you huff looking to your side. He begins in slow motions on your upper back “your nice a warm” he hums rubbing gently. “This ones new, its mint i think it smells nice” Satoru hums continuing to rub along your back. You feel yourself getting a little sleep between then gentle rubbing and the heating pad on your tummy. Satoru has you roll over, he gently rubs the bottom of your belly, slowly working the cramps to simmer away.

Geto suguru

he’s very mindful of things like these, he’s the type of person to walk around his home seeing what is running low and put it on his shopping list. This habit came from taking care of the girls. So you never run out of period products.

will do anything you asks of him really but he makes note of the things that you dont want to ask for, the ones you just want him to know to do.

like gojo he will rub your cramps out and not let you lift a finger.

he got really into meal prepping so everything you eat is home cooked, he makes meals with ingredients that may help ease your cramps.

he brings you ginger tea and dark chocolate as a snack

His hands gently rub small circles on your back as you sit facing him in his lap, your head gently resting on his chest. The rhythm of his heart beat, the scent of his amber cologne and the touch of him rubbing your back could just make you curl up and fall asleep. Not to mention the heating pad between you both being the cherry on top. “You are making me sleepy” you whine looking up at him. “That’s a bad thing?” Suguru questions looking down at you. “Mhm” you just hum and before you knew it you drifted to sleep on him.

Shoko ieiri

you guys are both synced together. Twining fr

she gets hers a day before yours so shes the first to notice if you guys are running low on products

if one of you accidentally stains the sheets you rock paper scissors shoot to see who washes the sheets.

sometimes she gets clingy during the last few days of her cycle and feels bad for being clingy. She just wants to be all up on you. She does like when you lay on top of her, the weight of you soothes her.

prefers getting takeout over cooking, she’ll cook for you if that’s what you’d prefer

has a warm beverage in her hand almost all the time during her cycle. If you have to go to work she gets your lunch delivered

She rolls over to face you, her head gently rests on your chest and rubs the bottom of your tummy. Slowly and gently rubbing out the cramps as you both decide on a place to order dinner from. “I’ll go a get it when it comes but keep an eye on it” she mumbles while continuing to rub out the cramps. Ieiri looks up for a moment but not stopping her movements “I know its like healthy to work out during your period but like all i want to do is lay down” she said recalling that her time of studying. She nuzzles her face into your neck and giving it a quick kiss.

[rikisniffles]

chapter fourteen [西村力] my first love was a boy ✧ NISHIMURA RIKI (NI-KI) X M!READER

SYNOPSIS — l/n y/n is a member of boynextdoor under hybe/koz. being an idol has always been y/n's dream, and ever since it became true he has been more than happy. despite being an idol, he doesn't know many other idols outside his group. when he runs into his seniors, a seemingly never-ending spiral of embarrassing moments occurs.

disclaimer !! : every idol in my stories is a character and does not always reflect the actual person (i do my best but for entertainment purposes, it may be off)

— fic masterlist / info

chapter fourteen - worn out

warning: written part (625 words), slight angst, smallest suggestive joke from taesan at the end (nothing too bad)

Ni-ki lays with his head resting on his pillow. His hair, wet, sprawled across the soft fabric of his pillowcase. His body is heavy. Lack of sleep, a good meal, and a full schedule are catching up to him. His lower limbs ache as he raises his legs, bending to stretch them out. Pops and cracks emerge from his bones.

Closing his eyes, he lies there. Despite the exhaustion, sleep won't come easy to him. His muscles and bones ache with soreness from practice, stages, and whatever else he's had to do this week. He feels weak. He grabs the blanket's fabric under him in his fist, gripping it in frustration.

It's lonely here. Ni-ki enjoyed the silence whenever he had it, but not so much at night. He grew up cuddling his sisters to sleep, which turned to sleeping in a room with his hyungs. Then when they got their own rooms, they were too busy to be there. He was always sharing a hotel room with someone. He was never alone.

For the first time in a while, he's in a room by himself. He knows he should enjoy it but he can't.

And he's too proud to go to his hyungs for comfort.

Ni-ki's eyes shoot open when his phone vibrates under him. He reaches a hand under himself, searching for the small device. The notification was nothing important, but it reminded him of what Sunoo had said to him.

His finger hovers over the contact of his friend. He hasn't talked to Y/n in days, he wants to, but both of them have been too busy.

After a few minutes, he finally clicks the call button. Bringing the phone to his ear, he breathes out a sigh. It keeps ringing as Y/n doesn't pick up. The phone goes silent and embarrassment fills him. He puts the phone down.

Vibrations shake his hand. Y/n was calling him back almost right away. Relief fills him but he still shakes from anxiety.

"Hey!" Y/n greets with enthusiasm as Ni-ki picks up, "Sorry, I meant to pick up but I didn't get to my phone in time-"

"Hey, who is that?!" A younger voice yells from across the room. Shuffling comes from the other end as the voice gets closer. "Hiiiii Ni-ki~" Woonhak teases, his voice suddenly louder as he speaks into the mic.

"Shut the fuck up, Woonhak." Y/n drops the phone on the bed while attempting to push Woonhak away from the phone. "Get away!" Y/n sighs as his groupmate laughs to himself.

"You still there?" Ni-ki asks, chuckling.

"Yes! I'm sorry..." Y/n's voice muffles as he whines into a pillow, embarrassed because of his friend. "So, what's up?"

"Oh," Oh yeah, he has to say something... "Just..." He thought about lying, "I missed you." He couldn't lie.

He smacks himself internally as Y/n goes quiet. The phone mic doesn't pick it up, but Woonhak is covering his mouth as giggles threaten to escape. Y/n takes the phone off of speaker mode...

"R- Right..." Y/n's voice shakes, "Yeah, we haven't talked in a while."

Ni-ki hums, "How's your comeback prep going?"

"Good..." Y/n bites his thumbnail, "Hopefully. I just got back from practice... This is hypocritical of me, but shouldn't you be asleep? It's really late."

"Yeah..." Ni-ki subconsciously yawns, "Shouldn't you?"

"My hyung was getting food delivered."

"Ah..." Ni-ki nods, "I was going to ask if you wanted to come over since we are both up but you're right it's late and-"

"I'll be over." Y/n answers quickly, shocking Ni-ki with his urgency.

"Don't you have to eat?"

"Don't worry about that, leave your door unlocked. I'll sneak my way in."

Ni-ki doesn't bother to fight back his smile, "Okay. See you soon."

"See ya!" The phone hangs up.

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— koki's note ★ ; GUESS WHOS BACK!!! and I'm back for real this time lolol, ill be posting regularly again 😚😚 hope yall missed me, might post another one today as an apology... i just started college and I'm ngl I'm kinda stressed... but I'm back on schedule so I should be able to post more regularly now :) have a fantastic one!

[fbfh]

Hi! Would you be able to write a Logan Huntzberger blurb, one where his SO has a hard time with her mental health?

YOOOOOOOOOO I fucking can't /pos.

No bc Logan is so fucking affectionate. Logan is a PROVIDER. the moment he sets his sights on you, your needs = met. always. so no matter what your symptoms are, Logan will find any and every possible way to accomidate them. deadass. Like once you bring it up ALLLLLL of his protective instincts kick into overdrive. he's like okay. first of all are you alright? are you okay?? you are (for the most part) so Logan absolutely insists you infodump all your symptoms (that you're comfy sharing ofc) and listens so intently and non judgementally. he pays such rapt attention and you can see the gears turning in his head as he strategizes how to make your life as stable and easy for you as possible. Logan is a man of action. by the time you're done, he takes you by the shoulders and looks down at you reassuringly as he guides you to your couch or bed or somewhere comfy and starts covering you in snuggly blankets and making sure you're all cozy.

"Alright, ace. you're gonna stay here, you gonna watch some movies, those musicals you like. I'll have some food delivered, and I want you to relax. Okay? No more stress or worries going through your pretty head. I'll take care of all that."

he kisses you in that way that makes you dizzy and turns on your comfort movie. he says he just has a few calls to make then he'll be right with you all night. during that short period of time where he's making calls and all sorts of arrangements, he pulls every motherfucking string he can to make your life easier. if you weren't in therapy before, congrats, you now have regular appointments with the best therapist in your city. if you struggle with chores and care tasks, you don't anymore. he has cleaning services and meal prep chefs and personal assisants at your ready so you barely have to lift a finger. if you're on meds or need to be, he'll make sure it's all managed for you so you don't need to worry about that. any coping strategies you need like a rage room or a sensory deprivaion tank or a fuckin greenhouse or therapy animals or LITERALLY anything that wil make you feel better?? boom. it's been installed in your place by the end of the week. this motherfucker will make sure your needs are met. nothing can or will stand in the way of him suplexing your fucking problems through the floor to ensure that you are as happy and stable and supported as possible at all times.

[ddarker-dreams]

Entropy.

Yan Cyno x Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships and unbalanced power dynamics. Word count: 2.6k.

You used to never hear his footsteps coming.

This is a detail you once pointed out to him — more in jest than anything — which earned you an unexpectedly pensive look. No matter how light you intended your words to be, he weighed them as if each syllable were law. It had always been that way, for as long as you could remember. Back in your Akademiya days, if you made a little suggestion to Cyno’s work, he’d rewrite the entire paper to accommodate your idea better. If you wondered about a strategy’s viability in Genius Invokation TCG, he’d stay up for nights on end to test and record the data for later presentation. He was always so eager to please you. What he struggled to express in words, he’d make up for in his actions; accommodating and bending to your will if it meant you might look his way.

A few days after you joked about how quiet he moves around, he solemnly promised ‘to remedy the issue’. And sure enough, he did. He started to announce when he arrived home or would make some other noise so that he didn’t sneak up on you. You didn’t give it much thought then. Certainly, it was nice that you no longer got startled or had to worry he’d been silently watching you do something embarrassing, but it didn’t particularly stand out more than that.

Until now, that is.

You’d been alternating between chopping vegetables and plopping them into boiling water, humming to yourself while you did so. The scent of spices and herbs picked fresh from the market hours prior permeated the evening air. As always, the table was set for two. You always ensure to have a hot dinner waiting for him whenever he returns home.

Nothing seemed particularly out of place. There was no sudden draft, no creak from the front door whose hinges desperately needed oiling. You carried out your meal prep routine in the same humdrum manner as always.

Then there were arms ensnaring you.

You almost jump out of your skin at the abrupt sensation. In an instant, your body prepares itself to fight back before your mind can intervene. You twist your torso around, leading with the knife still in your hand, adrenaline shooting through your veins like a geyser. The blade never connects with its intended target, for a singular hand holds it unwaveringly still midair, overpowering you easily. It’s then that you finally register just who the unknown assailant is.

“Archons above, Cyno,” you lace your tone with exasperation, “You almost gave me a heart attack. What if I had…”

You shake your head, not wanting to consider it for even a moment.

He calmly plucks the knife from your grasp and sets it aside, taking the time to straighten it while you steady your breathing. He never liked anything to be crooked, utensils weren’t an exception. What immediately strikes you is how void of expression he seems. Some may claim that the General Mahamatra is incapable of emoting, but after knowing him for so long, you had caught onto his many tells. He stands up perfectly straight when he’s looking for an opportunity to insert his joke into a conversation. He sighs quietly to himself when he’s content. The skin beneath his eyes crinkles whenever he sees you.

These various nuances you’ve spent years accumulating suddenly feel useless, like a once bountiful fruit tree that has dried and withered away.

You almost doubt if the man staring back at you is Cyno.

“I found your brother.”

There are no inquiries about your day, rushing over to lend assistance with the meal, or kisses stolen whenever he sees an opening. He delivers the grim news without tact or any other reassurance such a statement necessitates. You swallow thickly, shrinking yourself into the counter behind you. He’s scrutinizing you just as much as you are him. Your homeostasis is thrown off, somehow causing you to both shiver and sweat. The blood-orange eyes that stare back at you are reminiscent of the scalding sun in the desert. Unrelenting, pouring down heat without favor toward anyone or anything.

“... I see,” is your careful response. You grip the counter for leverage until your knuckles ache. “Does that mean the investigation into him is concluded?”

“Far from it.”

You think you can afford to look downcast upon receiving heavy news like this, so you do. That begs the question of what intonation to use next. He’s obviously waiting for you to speak up and say something more on the topic — hence his silence — yet having the spotlight thrust on you so abruptly leaves you feeling unprepared. Do you sound remorseful? Apologize for your brother’s grievances? Or do you sound satisfied, content that the arduous search has come to an end?

You decide to try a combination of both.

“I appreciate all your hard work in tracking him down,” the melancholy in your smile is genuine. You transition to something more sheepish, avoiding his burning gaze by looking to the side. “I know it hasn’t been easy. I suppose he’ll be brought to justice.”

“Everyone always is,” Cyno confirms. The corners of your mouth twitch. “He inquired after you.”

“Oh?”

“Normally, I don’t make a habit of talking to fugitives, since they’re always trying to worm their way out of due punishment. I made an exception in his case. I told him that I’ve been taking care of you in his stead; that you don’t want for anything. He seemed relieved. He must’ve assumed his assets would be seized once his academic infringements came to light… and still, knowing this, he chose to put your livelihood at risk.”

This is a safe conversation topic for you to lean into. Cyno always contended himself on the fact he solely provides for you.

“We’ve both caused you a lot of trouble.”

Normally, when you say something in this vein, Cyno rushes to reassure you that you’re no trouble at all. That he would give you the clothes off his back if you requested it. Presently, he does no such thing. You finally pick up on a telltale sign woven into his otherwise unreadable body language — how he’s struggling not to clench his jaw. Subdued frustration. While you’re used to playing an actor who must improvise their lines, Cyno must still be adjusting to the role. How unfortunate that you know he’s a fast learner.

You focus on the sound of boiling water threatening to overflow by your side. Neither of you moves to adjust the heat so that it won’t, too absorbed in what the other will or won’t do next.

“You said that it’s been hard work for me to track him down,” Cyno starts, reaching his thumb and pointer finger out to tilt your chin upward. You fight back the urge to flinch. “I agree, although, it shouldn’t have been. Not if he didn’t have help.”

He knows.

“... Not if he didn’t have you.”

The world is falling apart and you don’t know if anything can force the jagged pieces back together.

When it came to interrogation, few were better than Cyno. He understood it on an intrinsic level. When to apply pressure, when to offer a false sense of security, what words and actions it takes to utterly break a person. You thought knowing this in advance might offer you some sort of advantage. Never have you had an assumption proven so painfully wrong.

“What?” You demand, your eyebrows furrowing together. You are a virtuoso at playing the tune of ignorance. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

It’s a solid performance. Most innocent parties are rightfully outraged when faced with serious accusations they had nothing to do with. Their righteous anger is different from the guilt-ridden outbursts of their guilty counterparts, Cyno would tell you. In the same way an expert artist could differentiate between two shades that appear alike to any other unskilled eye, Cyno noticed all the minute details. This was what he did best. This was his life’s calling.

He runs the coarse pad of his thumb over your trembling lower lip, his eyes lidded. Then, he whispers, “You are a good liar, aren’t you?”

“I—”

Cyno shushes you and you’re compelled to listen.

“I’ve tracked down individuals with networks spanning across all of Teyvat in less time than it took for me to find your brother, who has no resources,” Cyno’s words are accompanied by electricity thrumming in the air — a warning that the time to be judged is nigh. “I couldn’t understand. It was as if he knew my movements in advance and planned accordingly.”

His grip on you tightens. “I lost sight of my objectivity. You… make me lose sight of objectivity. Still, that didn’t explain how exactly you were getting the information. I ruminated on this for some time. After all, what would my suspicions matter if I didn’t have anything definitive to work with? Then you asked me that favorite question of yours. ‘What time can I expect to have you home for dinner’, was it?”

You had been playing with something infinitely more dangerous than fire.

“You have enough knowledge of Sumeru’s geography to guess where I’d be going with the tiniest information,” Cyno narrows his eyes, “Isn’t that right, [First]?”

His exposed chest heaves, each breath coming out heavier than the last. The feverish skin that touches yours tingles in rhythm with the thrumming of his Vision. You wonder if any god would take pity and bestow their favor upon you. It’s a silly thought to entertain, for you know that even if they did, his strength far surpasses yours. There’s always the option of arguing your case. Combing through his words for inconsistencies you’d never find, prolonging an admission of guilt to the charges being presented. That would only add fuel to the raging hot fire.

“They were going to lock him up for life, Cyno,” your throat is tight and it all feels like too much. “I-I know that what he did was wrong, and— there are no good excuses to justify it. He told me as much before he fled. He said… he said that they’d been denying him funds for years. His research had been his dream since he was a kid. When I heard that, I just… I wanted to protect him.”

From you.

Tears gather upon your bottom eyelashes like dew on blades of grass at daybreak.

“The scales that your justice relies upon, how can you know they aren’t imbalanced? What good will throwing someone into a prison cell until they rot do? That’s no recompense for a crime committed, it’s punishment for punishment’s sake!”

Cyno allows you to finish your rambling without interruption. From what you understood, when the General Mahamatra found one that ‘must be brought to justice’, they’d immediately be whisked away. He never extended the process more than necessary and was almost considered fair for this facet of his. As a man so entirely defined by his ideals, you assume you’ll receive no different treatment. Obstructing an ongoing investigation and aiding a known fugitive were both sentences that’d be wrapped around your neck like a noose.

You decided that if the day ever came when he discovered your damning secret, you’d go down with some dignity intact. This was something you made peace with when you struggled to sleep beside someone you were actively deceiving. So you brace yourself for the absolute worst. You squeeze your eyes shut, preparing for whatever he might say while he arrests you, the inevitable tug on your wrist that’d come as he drags you off to whatever clammy holding cell awaits.

“Did you ever truly love me, or was it all a ploy?”

His voice is so quiet, you almost thought you imagined it.

This was the last thing you expected to be confronted with following such a severe revelation. The ache in his usually self-assured voice, the utter rawness that threatens to rip your soul asunder; accumulates and weighs you down. You force yourself to reopen your eyes. To own up to your mistakes, no matter how little it’d do to mend the gaping chasm that’s formed between you.

The scathing intensity in his eyes has long cooled off. What it leaves behind is far more delicate than glass.

“I’ve always loved you dearly, nothing changes that,” you reply in truth. As a friend and someone you could always rely on. You hope to leave this part unspoken, but by how close he is, you doubt he’ll leave it at that.

“Romantically?” He probes further.

You inhale sharply through your nose. “Cyno—”

“If you’re going to lie or avoid the question, do us both a favor and remain silent.”

At this, you obediently purse your lips.  

He relaxes his grip on you, his arms falling to his side, though you know better than to think that means you can walk away. Anxiety swarms inside your gut and clouds your other senses. The fear of what comes next always triumphs over the fear of the present. It’s this thought that urges you to risk speaking up again, though your better judgment advises against it.

“Are you going to arrest me?”

The question seemingly pains him almost as it does you. He’s normally so certain of himself, ready to respond at a moment’s notice. His convictions were a firm foundation that he built himself up from. It never mattered to him who one was, or their reasons for doing what they did, so long as they breached the Akademiya’s rules, they would be hunted down by him without reprieve.

That’s why you can hardly believe what he says next.

“No.”

“Then what,” you lick your lips, almost not wanting to finish the dreadful question, “Are you going to do with me?”

“That has yet to be determined.”

You gape at him, incredulous. His usual calm and calculating ways have returned. He’s regained control over his voice and body, betraying nothing that you can work with. Cyno finally breaks his attention away from you, taking the overflowing pot of water off the heat source, then grabbing the knife from earlier to finish chopping the vegetables. Your heart beats faster with each thump of the knife against the cutting board. His side profile is decidedly neutral, his eyes barely flickering to you like this was just any other regular evening. The hairs on the back of your neck stand and the more primal part of your brain urges you to do something, anything. 

Subconsciously, you take a step toward the door, holding your breath while you do so.

“Don’t bother,” Cyno’s tone is flat and unimpressed. “No matter where you hide, or how far you run, if you take one step out of this house, I will track you down.”

You thought your resolve was firm — that you’d be prepared for anything, if it meant helping your family — but this is something you never dreamed of.

“There’s no need to look at me like that. I won’t hurt you or let any harm befall you. After all, you said it yourself. If it’s no good to ‘throw someone in a cell until they rot’, then surely, there must be a better alternative. I’m interested in seeing this novelty myself. So, [First], what recompense do you suggest for a broken heart? In my opinion, there is only one fair trade that exists for such a steep debt.”

He tilts his head, daring you to challenge him in any way. When you don’t, he continues, and oh, how you wish he didn’t.

“And that is for you to finally give me yours.”

[mariiimagines]

DachaBo x preggo S/o headcanons

Warnings: pregnancy, talk of pups/litters, possessiveness, talks of oral $ex, alphas

Notes: Bo would be a amazing father like think about this..

(He's out of the Tamagotchi ofc)

When s/o is pregnant with his pups he literally treats them like royalty. Even before they get a baby bump he doesn't want them lifting anything heavy or doing any housework he just wants his puppy to relax and let their body create their Precious pups!

Have morning sickness? Bo will be by your side when you're throwing up, going to make sure you're well hydrated and have ginger or mint tea to help with your stomach.

Strange craving for food? He will make sure to have the fridge stocked up with all types of food and snacks for you. Want take out that's no problem puppy eat as much as you want! He wants his pup to grow big and strong after all.

When you have the energy he's making sure to go on walks with you. When you're out together he's always holding your hand or he has you walk in front of him and you never leave his eyesight, you thought he was protective before?? It's nothing compared to how he is now. He feels like everything around could be potential danger and he has to protect you and the growing pup inside you.

When you start going through mood swings I feel like he's very understanding. Feeling clingy and wanting attention, no problem, come here puppy! He will give you lots of cuddles and kisses. When you're Feeling sad or crying it hurts his heart he'll give you a shoulder to cry on even if it's the tiniest thing.

Bo rushes to the kitchen after hearing you sobbing from the room over.

"Puppy!! What's wrong?! Why are you crying?" You look at him with tears streaming down your face "Bo… i-I dropped the bag of chips on the floor.."

He walks over to you and gently wraps his arm around you bringing you into a hug "oh puppy…it's going to be okay I'll clean it up for you alright..?" He then would prep your face with soft kisses and licks if you let him.

If your mood swings make you feel angry at him it does hurt him but he will give you your space if you want it, he will stay out of the room but just know he isn't too far and he's always listening for you.

Once your belly starts growing nice and big he's practically swooning. He couldn't have picked a better mate!! You look so beautiful puppy. I feel Bo gets increasingly horny when you're in this state but he knows he's too rough when it comes to "meal time" so he makes sure to take care of himself, If your limbo is high while pregnant he would use his tongue and hands to please you so he doesn't hurt you or the pup.

When you're having a hard time sleeping due to pain he stays up with you and gives you back rubs and makes sure you sleep comfortably on your side as he big spoons.

When the pups are due he’s right by your side in the hospital, holding your hand giving you praise and support.

Once the pups are delivered his heart is warmed

The pups have your eyes!

He couldn't be any happier.

Bo was able to pick up the whole litter of pups and show you all of them one by one. If you want some bonding time with them he'll lay all of them down on you for they can smell and see you and know that you're there mama ♡

If you don't want them on you right now or you feel too exhausted Bo's got this! He holds them all watching the pups and you all sleep

He feels like he's the luckiest alpha in the world ♡♡

[iwannasuckyourmonstercock]

Seonghwa eating you out

You love teasing your boyfriend but this time you pushed your luck a bit too hard.

“I- I already told you ‘m sorry, Hwa!” You sobbed, slurring on your words already.

He didn’t even lift his head, just pushing your thighs further apart with his hands. His tongue was already deep inside of you which probably explained his lack of response. Trying to talk to him didn’t work and you had already tried pushing your thighs together but it was to no avail, he didn’t even falter for a second.

A soft cry left your lips as you felt another orgasm approaching.

It was meant to just be a stupid joke. Wooyoung was running his mouth like always and in the middle of it all you joked back how Seonghwa couldn’t eat you out properly.

Honestly you don’t even know in what kind of context that came out. And it was only because you knew that he was really good at it. Otherwise you would have never joked about it.

And conveniently your boyfriend came in right as you made the joke. He wasn’t pleased at all and now here he was, between your legs and making your whole world shake.

And on top of that everybody else could hear it too.

A harsh slap was delivered on your sensitive thigh as another loud cry left your lips.

“Don’t you fucking interrupt my meal.” He hissed at you, before wrapping his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Than he started sucking harshly in your clit, rubbing two finger against your drooling cunt before slowly pushing them inside.

He was sure that by now he could even easily fuck you stupid with his cock without prep but this wasn’t what he wanted right now. All he wanted was to prove to every unfortunate soul that was in the dorms right now that he could fuck his girlfriend stupid without even using his cock.

“H-wa! Hwa, I’m gonna-“ you moaned out loud before releasing all over his fingers.

But your boyfriend only let out a dark chuckle, pushing a third finger into you. He made sure to slid them right against that sensitive spot that had you whimpering and trembling every time. And your release only made him speed his pace up.

Your legs were shaking against him and got tears were running down your cheeks by now. It felt way too good and your fingers found his hair, trying to push his head away.

To your surprise he complied, as he looked up to stare into your eyes. A devilish smirk was on his handsome face and he licked his lips.

“Cry as much as you want, baby. I will make you cum so many times that you won’t be able to count it with your fingers anymore. This is what what happens when you run your stupid mouth, slut.”

Another soft cry left your lips as he pushed one of your knees against your chest, pushing his fingers even further into you.

“Naww~ You should see your face right now.” He cooed at you, kissing your tears away now. “Maybe I should show Wooyoung just how bad I am at eating you out.”

[da-shrimping-station]

Cooking for the House of Lamentation

Let me start this post by saying that over the years I've had plenty of experience cooking for a lot of people. I'm no expert cook whatsoever, just a helping hand in the kitchen during festivals and occasions (which happens multiple times in a year). If you have more experience and insights, please feel free to share!

Let’s start this off by having some sort of baseline so we’re all on the same page.

MC /OC/you/us/we (and what have you) can:

follow a recipe well enough

be in the kitchen and not have it burn down

cook an edible meal at the end of it all

A fairly average cook if you will.

Now, time for chaos.

Cooking for a lot of people is…a lot. A feast for upwards of 10 people can take the whole day. Not to mention buying ingredients beforehand. How many dishes are you gonna cook? Do they go well/compliment each other? What’s the serving size? Are you gonna have desserts too? Do you have the right equipment? Are the ingredients available/accessible? Is there anyone who has a food-specific condition to look out for and make alternatives for? Are there ingredients that need to be marinated/prepped in advanced? Is everything within budget? (These are some questions at the top of my head)

Now the main concern here is volume/quantity. Beelzebub. Need I say more?

Actually, YES. It’s a house full of men. Men eat a lot. Oh, and they’re also demons. So let’s assume they eat/consume significantly more than humans. (You can pitch in your HCs for each brother regarding how much they eat) But let’s say the food has to be for 10-15 people at the very least.

GROCERY RUN!

There’s a whole ass booklet for the groceries, with each brother having their own page/section. Let’s assume there’s no budget constraints (Lucifer can bitch about the cost and budgeting but his brothers need to be fed). Groceries are bought in bulk. Multiple times a week. Emergency trips in the middle of the night or else they starve for breakfast. 

At some point they get their groceries delivered every 3 days or so. The runs are now for necessity/emergency.

But if a brother requests a certain dish, then it’s time to go to the market. Prepare your haggling skills.

THE BATTLEFIELD

Based off of the game (and referencing the floor plan from Wanderer’s Whereabouts), the kitchen is actually pretty spacious. Good. We need all the space we can get for this. I’d like to think Barbatos personally made sure the kitchen is fully kitted out with all the equipment and utensils one needs. (Thanks, Barbs. You’re the best!) No worries on that end.

I headcanon that the kitchen is split into 2 parts: the side where the stoves and appliances are and the side where the dirty kitchen is. That way you have access to stoves/ovens and the fancy appliances as well as being able to cook with coal or in a spit. Increases the capacity for cooking multiple dishes at once. (Please share your HCs for the kitchen!)

PREP TIME

Prepare your hands and arms. Washing, peeling, chopping, dicing, slicing, marinating. Any and every sort of ingredient prep. How many ingredients does this dish have? Are you gonna prep one dish only? Are you gonna prep for two in advance? Mis en place (or whatever the term is im no culinary shrimp)

Also think about the sheer amount of ingredients.

Say, according to the cookbook, this dish serves 5 people and it needs 1 whole onion. Pretty straight forward right? But you’re cooking for 7 demon brothers and one being the Avatar of Gluttony. Let’s go back to the 10-15 people approximation. That means you have to increase the amount (in this case that’ll be 2 or 3 whole onions). That goes for every fucking dish. 3 onions for dish #1. What about dish #2 and #3 and so on? (Honestly, your hands must be well marinated by the time you’re done with all the prep)

Measuring the ingredients too. 1 cup of this, a tablespoon of that, a pinch of this. Please please please let there be enough soy sauce for tonight’s cooking.

Another thing: you’re probably dealing with local Devildom ingredients (which you did not even know existed until then)

Veggies? Sliced

Meats? Washed and cut.

Condiments and seasonings? All measured.

Are we ready to cook? NO.

Please clean up the peels, excesses, undesirables, and packaging.

GET THE FIRE GOING

Finally! The actual cooking part! Take a deep breath and put that pot on the stove. Good luck cuz you’re gonna be juggling between multiple dishes just to be able to get ready for dinnertime.

One dish is boiling so the meat softens? Time to fry. Oh and have you checked the one you were marinating? Please add that to the veggies in dish #2. Don’t overcook the pasta for dish #1! Please adjust the heat, that pot is boiling over. Taste test for dish #3. Hhm needs more salt. Is the meat soft enough? Good, let's season it. Please mind the fire! You’re gonna char the one you’re frying. This one has marinated long enough, we can add it to dish #2. Take dish #1 off the heat. I think it’s done. Do you think this is fried well enough?

It’s hectic. It’s a mess and a half. You make sure nothing is overcooked or undercooked. Taste test to make sure everything tastes fine. (are the dishes safe for human consumption tho)

ALL DONE!(?)

You wish! Now you have to deal with the clean up!

Wash everything you used for cooking. Pots, pans, knives, measuring cups and spoons, plates and bowls you put the ingredients in, the tasting spoons you used, the ladles and spatulas, etc

Please clean the stoves, sinks, countertops/tabletops too.

Oh yea, put away the excess ingredients and return the condiments and seasonings.

You still there? Still got energy to study and do homework later?

Personally, i clean as i go whenever i have the time in between tending to the dishes. I hate hate hate a messy/dirty kitchen while i cook it makes me wanna rage

DINNERTIME

These fuckers better sit down and eat what you cooked. No. Who the fuck cares if someone is being rowdy or moody or being dramatic. NO ONE wastes your efforts in preparing the food. Sit down and EAT.

I mean alright, maybe you can tag team dinner prep but it’s still a lot in terms of quantity and sheer volume. Will that brother be of actual help in the kitchen?

To sum it all up,

May the Universe have mercy on MC when they’re on cooking duty.

[jessamine-rose]

˚˖ ࣪ ⊹.°˖˚ A Candlelit Dinner ˚˖°.⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˚

Aka “Jessamine makes her cannibalism debut ft. La Signora after sharing too many crack ideas with @beloved-blaiddyd” (*-`ω´- )ﻭ✧

Tw:: yandere, cannibalism, Stockholm Syndrome, offscreen death, 2.1 spoilers

♡ 1.1k words under the cut ♡

You aren’t allowed to attend your wife’s funeral.

Truthfully, it doesn’t surprise you. The world broke Rosalyne’s heart when it took the life of her previous lover, and so she refused to take a gamble with you. Anything to guarantee your safety, to ensure that you’d always be there to welcome her home.

It’s strange. The manor has always been peaceful during her missions, but the silence is stifling in La Signora’s eternal absence. The servants are gloomy; your hobbies feel tedious; and time freezes to an endless monotony of lamentation.

You don’t know what to do with your freedom. How long ago did you cease your prayers and find comfort in Rosalyne’s love? When did you start calling your prison a home?

A few weeks after the funeral, your handmaiden suggests a trip to the city for a change of pace. Such an invitation is unheard of, but the rules mean nothing without the looming threat of the Fair Lady’s rage. She likely pities you.

Instead, you take a short walk around the manor. The Snezhnayan winter is colder this year, or perhaps you’ve grown too accustomed to Rosalyne’s warmth.

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

The kitchen was where you fell in love with Rosalyne.

Cooking was your favorite way to spend time together. It required patience, harmony, a mutual trust with knives and fire.

In those moments of domesticity, she was neither the Fair Lady nor the Crimson Witch of Flame. She was just Rosalyne, your self-proclaimed wife who sang while she worked and adjusted recipes to your personal tastes. She was in charge of the seasonings, courtesy of her time in Sumeru which provided an informal education in sugar and spices.

Once the meal was ready, the two of you would proceed to the dining table. She’d sit across from you and light the candelabra with a graceful flick of her fingers, flames blooming atop of pure white wax. Only then could you admire her fire without a modicum of fear.

During her missions, Rosalyne would purchase gifts for you. Most of the time, she came home with special ingredients to use in your cooking dates. Seafood from Morepesok, wine from Mondstadt, Jueyun chilis from Liyue, and so on.

You haven’t set foot in the kitchen since Rosalyne’s death. Neither do you eat at the dining table; you tell the servants to bring your meals to your room.

You can only manage a few bites before you grow sick of the dull taste in your mouth.

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

Rosalyne’s final gift is a spice blend from Inazuma.

It is delivered a month after her funeral, a fancy box filled with little porcelain jars. Each jar is beautifully crafted, painted with crimson roses and butterflies.

Your wife’s subordinates won’t look you in the eye. In a rehearsed tone, they inform you that prior to her death, La Signora had made a bulk purchase of shichimi togarashi. The containers were custom-made, hence the delay in their arrival.

“The Fair Lady was adamant that you receive this gift, no matter the circumstances. We ask that you honor her final wish and enjoy this spice blend in your future meals.”

How did you respond? Was it a halfhearted nod or a few words of gratitude? All you remember is your walk from the foyer to the kitchen, shelves and countertops cleared, the porcelain chill of each jar as you pick them up and display them on every flat surface.

You once told Rosalyne that your kitchen could use more color. It appears that she took your request to heart.

The sun sets as you finish the task. At this hour, Rosalyne would be home and the two of you would begin the kitchen prep. What was your first meal together?

It was steak served with potato roses. Back then, you suggested potato roses out of a fearful desire to please her.

The meal takes longer to prepare. The chef offers their assistance but you refuse, taking out ingredients and cutting them with your familiar knife. The potatoes only need butter and a few seasonings, but the steak…you think you’ll try the shichimi.

You open a jar and scoop out a small portion of shichimi. It is a fiery shade of orange, likely from the chili pepper. The powdered spices are mixed with aonori, peppercorns, sesame seeds—what are those coarse, gray particles?

Maybe it is an ingredient native to Inazuma.

The steak is marinated. Your attention shifts back to the potatoes, the slices arranged in a rosette pattern. It takes a while; Rosalyne was always better at this.

After the potato roses are baked, the steak is seared. You almost overcook it—you always cooked Rosalyne’s first, and the two of you preferred different levels of doneness—but it’s salvaged at the last second. Then you arrange the food on your plate, recalling Rosalyne’s plating techniques. She knew how to make a meal look so pretty, so appetizing…

You bring your plate to the dining table. The chair in front of you is empty, and the candelabra is unlit. A servant lights the candles in Rosalyne’s place, but his flames are dimmer and he doesn’t pay attention to your reaction.

You pick up your knife and cut into the steak.

It looks normal, with a bloody center. You cut a small piece, stab it with your fork, and bring it to your mouth.

It tastes…unique.

There is the spiciness of the chili pepper, the sweetness of the citrus peel, umami from the other spices. But there are other flavors—bitter, metallic, smoky. You’re not quite sure if you like it.

Yet you can’t help but take another bite. And another. Another one, with the potato roses. Before you know it, your mouth is trembling and your vision is blurring. Through a veil of tears, you notice that your plate is already half-empty.

You stand up and return to the kitchen, ignoring the servants’ questions. Instead, you come back with the crimson-painted jar and add another spoonful of shichimi to your steak.

Now there’s too much seasoning. But you don’t mind; you mix it into the potato roses and continue eating, savoring the complex flavors.

How was Rosalyne in her final days? You can imagine her in an Inazuman market, looking for the perfect gift for her spouse. The smile on her face as she approved the shichimi and spoke with an esteemed craftsman. The moment of her death—How much pain was she in? Did her flames leave a mark on the Tenshukaku? Did she think of you?

It’s just like her to ensure that you’ll never despair over a bland meal, even in her death.

It almost feels as though she is still with you.

♡

…….Don’t ask me how a few DMs turned into 1.1k words bc idk either. And cheers to my Google history going from “spice blends” to “togarashi steak recipe” to “cremated ashes texture” to “what do ashes taste like” ^^;

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed my tribute to La Signora!! Thanks again to Brynlee for this tasty idea, and may Hoyoverse not kill off the other Fatui Harbingers ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

[mytimesandrocking]

Owen Reverse Confession

Who knew when it came around to. . . this.

It wasn’t intentional, Owen knew that much. It was little things, each a drop of rain or a rolling piece of sand that slowly wore away at what little guard he had around his heart. Owen wasn’t trying to keep anyone out, not when he had dreams of his own, but it was a little frightening how easily you slipped in and through the cracks and crevices of his heart, settling there like gold in chipped crockery.

Who knew when your visits became the best part of his day. Dropping in for relief from the sun, for the tail ends of stories or to meet someone for commissions, the reason didn’t matter, especially when you never failed to cut out a slice of your valuable time just to sit and chat with him. Your stories rivaled his own, and your laugh could heal the desert.

Your first rain in Sandrock, stood drenched and grinning ear to ear, was one of his favorite memories. He told you he wanted to tell stories of the rain, but now he wanted to write them about you, splashing in puddles with hair clinging to your cheeks, bright and beautiful and alive.

Owen had heard fairytales, told them too, and you were cut right from the cloth. But maybe he was the damsel you came to rescue, even if he was the bigger one. It certainly felt like you saved him, with how wonderful Sandrock had become since your arrival (and Mi-an’s too, of course, but he was being sentimental).

Who knew when the plan got cooked up. Grace had mentioned how much you seemed to love his sandfish with secret sauce. You always ordered it when you sat down for a meal, and the way your face relaxed at that first bite. . . Owen wondered if learning to paint was hard, or maybe he could commission a camera. Nothing was better than you enjoying his cooking; it was the highest praise he could receive.

So he figured, why not work with that? Crucian carps were rare but not unattainable, especially for you. All his commissions for fish, you did the same day, always presenting them so proudly. If he asked for two, and for you to deliver them on the day the Blue Moon was closed, you wouldn’t suspect anything.

That meant Owen had plenty of time to prep too. He readied ingredients, cleared the kitchen, fitted it with candles and chairs at the island. And in you came, pleased as punch with your catch.

“I’m going to cook these now.” Owen told you, gesturing to the cluttered counter. “Wanna stay for dinner? I’m making your favorite.”

Oh, how your eyes had narrowed. “Oh? Are you buttering me up for something?” Still, you slid easily into the stool opposite of him. Owen grinned, not helping how suspicious he looked. “Did Grace destroy another oven? Want me to clean it? Or make you a new one?”

“No!” Owen protested, but any scolding tone was marred by his laughter. “No, she didn’t. She’s doing a good job! Way better than when she started.”

You just hummed an agreement, arm on the island and head propped on your hand, watching him ready.

And suddenly Owen got nervous. This was it. Time for the show to start. You were everything he wanted and more, so he had to impress you. Show you how good of a cook he was. How good of a partner he’d be. How worth he was, a good business owner, a good cook, a good man. The perfect one for you.

This had to be perfect.

Owen turned towards the stove, hands shaking a bit as he flipped on the nearest burner. The sauce was easy enough to put together, and luckily Owen was broad enough to hide the secret recipe from you. You complained, of course, but didn't get up.

“The only way you’re getting my recipe is if you become family.” Owen teased, face hot from the stove.

“I’ll buy a ring the next time the Mysterious Man comes to town.” You responded easily.

Owen had to turn back to his meal so you didn’t see his goofy grin. He was veering into dangerous territory, thinking of you in a wedding, where you’d marry him. And then you’d move in and maybe even have kids-

Bad! Owen shook his head. Those were thoughts to have later, in private. For now, he was searing the fish, and he had the perfect move to show you.

“And now!” Owen announced, showing you the fish in his pan. You preemptively began to applaud. “Behold!”

Owen flipped the fish into the air. Both sailed up, perfectly seated on one side. But on their downward arc, they parted ways. Owen lunged to catch both in his pan, back slamming into the counter. The cupboards flew open as the earth shook with Owen’s contact with the floor.

“Owen!” You yelped. The thunderous clanging of falling pots and pans drowned you out.

Oh. . . That hurt. A lot.

Owen groaned. A larger copper pot covered his head, casting him into darkness, and for it he was thankful. That was. . . not impressive at all. Not even a little bit. That was sad, actually. Not something an experienced chef would ever do.

And you saw all of it.

So this was a bust. Owen mourns any chance of impressing you, of swooping in with a heart knot after you swoon over his cooking skills. Owen would have to retreat, restrategize, and hopefully lick his own wounds in privacy. He didn't want to avoid you, but after all this, he doubt he could face you again without cringing into a ball of shame.

You had other plans, however, pushing up the pot on his head. The worry in your eyes cut him like knives. “Owen? Are you okay?”

“Heh!” He forced a sheepish smile, face so hot. “Well, uh. . . a little embarrassed, but I’m alright.”

Your lips pursed into a sympathetic pout. Owen had to drag his eyes up from them when you leaned closer, eyeing the bruises that no doubt are blooming across his head.

“Does anything hurt?” You asked.

Owen flapped his hands around. “Oh! You know, just some bruises. I think I smacked my hand on the way down.”

You captured his hand in your own, studying his fingers. Yours bent his, careful and calculating, making sure each worked as they should. He winced when you got to his thumb, and at the confirmation of pain, you swooped in.

A kiss. You kissed his aching thumb, slow and firm, before pulling back with sparkling eyes and a small smile. “Does. . . anything else hurt?”

Owen blinked. What else hurt? He gestured vaguely to his forehead, where a goose egg was forming. “Er, um, my head. . .”

Your hands came up, calloused and warm, cupping his cheeks. Your fingers stroked his beard as your lips ghosted his injury. It took a hesitant moment, but you sunk into the kiss, healing all the pain away.

“Anywhere else?” You whispered, barely pulling away from his face.

Owen immediately jabbed his finger to his lips, chest tight. “Um! Um, my lip’s busted-!”

Owen snatched your face in his hands as you cut him off. It was exhilarating, an explosion of feelings and sparks that lit fires all around. Everything was too warm, too close, too far, too short. By the time you pulled back, thumb stroking his very much not busted lips, Owen thought he could die, and die happy.

“Hm,” you hummed, “looks like I didn’t get it all.”

Owen laughed into your kiss. Was it perfect? No. But it was you. And he liked you way more than perfect.

[because-of-a-friend]

Band-Aid

MASTERLIST

Hi guys, I’m back! Sorry I was gone for so long, I got so busy this past year, I thought I might have to retire this blog for good. But I’m going to try and make time for it, let’s hope it works out this time!

Disclaimer: It has been a LONG time since I’ve written ~anything~ so I am plenty rusty lol.

Thanks for the request anon! This is such a cute prompt! Hope I delivered! After this I’ll have four drafts left and then I can answer the requests in my inbox!

Warnings: Mentions injuries/illnesses, blood, let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 1k

Remember that gifs aren’t mine! If you like them, pls click through to show their OPs some love!

You have to laugh as Seungcheol loudly announces to Jeonghan that his head is hurting

You two have been going through this cycle since you were first hired a few months ago

At the beginning, Coups had an excuse to talk to you all the time

Since you were new to the team, he took point on explaining important info to you

What allergies the boys had

Previous injuries you needed to be aware of

Where they generally kept their first-aid supplies

But once you had it all down, there was no reason for him to talk to you on a daily basis

But by this point, Cheol had realized that he very much liked speaking to you

He felt that you two had connected well and wanted to get to know you more

But since you were on the med team, you were often quite busy seeing as there were thirteen members that were in constant need of check-ups, aid with different levels of injuries, and general everyday care to combat the strain they put on their bodies

You hardly ever had time to just speak to him

The only time you really could 

Was when you were treating him

So Seungcheol had started to come up with any excuse under the sun to come and talk to you

First he was constantly complaining that he must have sprained his wrist, or twisted his ankle or pulled a muscle

Then he was constantly getting stomache aches

After that he was getting rashes or little scratches

Now he was in a phase of faking headaches to come and talk to you about it

You knew all of his injuries were fake from the very beginning

He stopped cradling his first “sprained wrist” to tell Seungkwan off for being too loud

He ate full meals that the other boys ordered even when he had his “stomach aches”

You had started carrying around makeup wipes to clean off his supposed “scratches and rashes”

Someone complaining of a headache was a little harder to disprove though

But you were sure you’d catch him somehow

You had begun to enjoy playing this little game with him

As well as the time you got to spend with him because of it

“Well you don’t have a fever,” you tucked your thermometer back into your medical bag

Seungcheol sat in front of you with a pout on his face

“Are there any other symptoms?” you ask

Seungcheol dutifully shakes his head

“Well do you want a pain reliever? Or maybe I should tell them to send you home and rest?” you feel his forehead once more for good measure

“Oh...” he hesitates, “I don’t think it’s serious enough for either of those...”

You smile to yourself

It was quite cute to watch him fumble with trying to feign sickness without  exposing himself

“Well should we schedule an appointment with a neurologist to make sure this isn’t a problem?” you push him further

“No, you take care of me well enough” Seungcheol beams

“Well we have to find a solution eventually,” you sigh. “How’s your water intake? Or did you add anything new to your diet? Increase your screentime?”

“No, they just started out of nowhere,” Seungcheol shrugs innocently

“Well I suppose I can let you go for today but, if it happens again, I’m sending you to the doctor”

“[Y/N]!” one of the managers calls for you. “We need your help prepping supplies for the next concert.”

You give Cheol a bit of a smug look, knowing you’ve backed him into a corner with his latest fake sickness and then

You rush off to help

Seungcheol sighs as he watches you leave

He just lost another excuse to spend time with you

Later that evening Joshua watches with pure amusement as Seungcheol paces back and forth in the dorm 

“Should I say I think I have a sinus infection? Or maybe I could claim of frequent muscle spasms... I feel like constipation has to be my last move.”

“I feel like constipation is a never move,” Joshua interrupted. “Just tell [Y/N] that you like them.”

“I can’t do that, what if they don’t even like me?” Seungcheol complains

“Well then you have an answer and you can stop wasting both of your time,” Josh shrugs

“Wasting time,” Seungcheol repeats. “What if they really don’t like me and I’ve just been annoying [Y/N] this whole time?” 

He hates the feeling settling in the pit of his stomach

He begins to remember all the times you would shut him down as quick as possible 

Or when you would rush off to help someone else as soon as you were done exposing a fake injury of his

How you would sigh and roll your eyes before walking away

Apparently he failed to notice the playful look on your face as you did so

“What? I don’t think [Y/N] would put up with it if you were truly wasting their time,” Joshua protests

“No, I really should stop. It’s [Y/N]’s job and I should leave them alone to do it. Let’s just start getting ready for the concert tomorrow”

Seungcheol’s mood is noticably down for rehearsals the next day

The other boys are off because of it and they’re trying all they can to cheer him up

You notice as well and begin to wonder if Seungcheol is genuinely sick for once 

And then you feel really worried because he usually would use any excuse to come speak to you but he’s not even trying to mention what’s obviously bothering him

“Are you feeling alright?” you corner him, once again pressing a hand to his forehead

“I am, just worried about this performance,” Cheol reaches up to grab your hand, his thumb pressing into your palm as he pulls it away from his head

Then he just walks off

You feel really uneasy about the concert

Everyone else does too

Seungcheol may not be exhibiting any symptoms of sickness but it’s obvious he’s distracted and not ready to perform

Anxieties rise throughout the day but quickly stave off as the concert begins

As usual, Seventeen pulls through and the concert goes well

Even with Cheol somewhat distracted 

But the good feelings end as quickly as they begin

When Cheol falls during a song 

At first it looks like just a simple stumble

But as your watching the big screen, you see the horrified expression form on Seungkwan’s face as he looks down at his leader

You rush to the side of the stage as the other members help him off

They set him down on a chair in front of you and run back off to do crowd control

You quickly see why Seungkwan had seemed so disturbed

When Cheol had tripped, he had fallen against one of the stage props and scraped up his shin

The wound didn’t seem deep but it was large and producing plenty of blood

Coups feels terrible

Not even 24 hours after he decided to leave you alone

And here is a situation where you have to be with him

He can’t even think of his injury

He can only think of how he’s going to apologize and get out of your hair

He’s tested ten different apologies in his head before he actually looks at you

Your hands are gentle as you clean the blood and sanitize the wound

Cheol notices how you hesitate everytime you rub the disinfectant over his leg, seeing if it’ll cause him pain or not 

There is a time where it does sting and he sucks in his breath

You look up at him and Cheol’s heart clenches

You look so worried

Your eyebrows are furrowed and there’s sweat on your forehead 

“Does it hurt a lot? I promise I’m almost done” you say 

Your voice is so genuine and kind

Cheol has to stop himself from grinning at how sweet and caring you’re being

“I’m ok, do what you need to do”

You wrap the bandages carefully once the wound is clean, even going back over where you feel you didn’t do a good enough job

“Does that feel ok?” you stand and put a hand on his shoulder, indicating with your other hand that he should move his leg and test the wrappings

He nods, “Thank you”

Then he gets up and heads towards the stage

“Woah,” you stop him with a hand on his chest, “where are you going?”

 He grabs your hand the same way, a thumb pressed to your palm, but he doesn’t move it away from him this time

“Back out,” he gives you the smile he uses when he wants something

“You can’t go back out there,” you insist, hoping he can’t feel how warm you’re getting while he holds your hand

“It would be best for the fans to see that I’m ok,” Cheol says more seriously this time

You think it over

“...You’ll have to sit in a chair for the rest of the performance,” you insist

“I’ll accept that with my own condition,” Cheol is beaming at you again

“And what would that be?” you laugh

“I take you to dinner after”

Before you can respond, he pulls you towards him, kisses your cheek, and runs off onto the stage with a chair

And your hand flies to your own forehead to check your tempertature

[jiminrings]

nesting period drabble where 478jk just has the urge to buy every. single. floor couch. and it’s oc who has to hold him back 😭😭😭😭

478: drabble

alternatively, jungkook’s a little skittish :O

[ 478 masterlist ]

Jungkook’s a sight to behold when you’re on your third trimester.

Your husband’s a force to be reckoned with when he signs up the two of you to parenting classes that are more in number than the workshops you’ve ever attended in your life. You get so much emails to the point they’re automatically redirected to your spam folder, only being aware of said classes when you wake up to Jungkook hovering above you with his watch on your face.

He’s something else when his couvade syndrome’s resumed and it’s much, much more raging than the first time around. You’re not imagining it when you look at him walking the same way that you do, highlighted by the little grunts every now and then.

Jungkook has taken up every useful hobby and planned every tiny detail for him to be as involved as he could, your usual delivery guy also being the judge of it by the way he’s just delivered a top-of-the-line sewing machine just because Jungkook wanted to know how to sew onesies for your baby girl — last week, half of his truck was occupied just by your husband’s parcels alone.

He’s predictable for the most part and although you encounter instances every now and then where Jungkook exceeds your expectations, he’s off the roof this time with the way he just won’t stop fussing.

“Ah, ah! Sit down, baby,” he tuts for the hundredth time, nudging you back to bed as he fluffs up the pillows surrounding you, again. He’s fulfilled the doctor’s reminders and more, even going so far as to give you some of his own. 

Jungkook won’t stop magnifying every single thing you do that requires for you to lift even your pinky finger because at the very first sight of it, he scrambles to do it for you. He’s already at your beck and call even if you don’t do the latter, his eagerness to aid you someway and somehow reigning.

“Jungkook, for the last time, we don’t have to meal prep as early as now,” you groan, seeing his nose buried on his phone with yet another twinkle in his eyes that you can’t misplace. It’s the same twinkle he has when he sees a free crochet pattern online; the same luster when he sees a discount code to your favorite takeout place.

“Not meal prepping yet. I’m just-…” he mumbles distractedly beside you, the tip of his nose almost touching his phone screen as he zooms in. He’s not even wearing his glasses yet with the way his brightness is set up to the maximum and how he’s so close, you could see the reflection on his eyes.

The furniture tab is open again.

“Baby,” you sigh, a breathless laugh leaving you quite literally because just the thought of it makes you short of inhales. “We don’t need another floor couch.”

“But it’s baby pink,” Jungkook frowns, looking up at you briefly. He’s unconsciously pouting and it’s the same look he gave you when he started fixing up and rearranging the furniture in the house and you were (initially) against it, the whine that’s bubbling up in his throat already starting to pour. 

“We already have a huge baby blue one in the living room and we have the lavender one for our bedroom coming in, remember?” you remind, trying to coax out the phone from his hands little by little but he doesn’t relent.

“But the lavender’s tiny compared to the one in the living room!” he groans, unwilling to give you his phone as he keeps it out of reach. “And our house is huge. We don’t just have one living room.”

“We already have existing couches!”

“They’re not the floor ones! They have these stupid, angular legs on them. They’re so practical and easy to clean. I don’t want that,” Jungkook goes on a tangent, tossing his phone to the end of the bed in frustration before curling up to shove his face to the crook of your neck.

“Shh. You’re just nesting, Jungkook. It’s gonna pass,” you run your hand through his hair, tearing out another frustrated whine from him.

“But it’s not going to! Y/N, baby, it’s baby pink. It’s been sold-out forever and what are the chances that it’s back in stock right when we’re nesting?” he convinces you with wide eyes, his enthusiasm rubbing off on you until he brings up a point you’ve been dying to make since you saw his sent folder.

“You sent some very insistent and desperate emails to the company and you kept mentioning that I was your very famous, very pregnant wife.”

He deadpans, his eyes narrowed at the way you just can’t contain yourself from giggling to his face. He accepts the entertainment on your part because quite frankly, he’s not ashamed about what he did at all.

Jungkook settles to the crook of your neck deeper until he’s fully enveloped by your scent, muttering the key to which the two of you go soft at immediately.

“Imagine it in her room, come on. When you’re feeding her, you can sit on it. When we’re paranoid and the baby monitor won’t do, we can nap on it. When she can support her head, she’ll be all up on the couch,” he convinces you, pouting with a pitch you find yourself fawning over. “Please? For Hwayoung?” 

You don’t need to be begged twice, surrendering with a sigh.

“Get me my wallet.”