today is 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔’s day off and — as expected of your stubbornly hardworking husband — he’s busy in the kitchen, trying out new onigiri flavors instead of resting.
you, on the other hand, are sitting at the dining table, painting the watercolor coloring book you bought on the market a few weeks ago. your eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as you paint some hibiscus flowers in bright orange and hot pink colors.
unfortunately, after only half an hour of painting, you grown bored, pushing the watercolor set and coloring book away. you look up, glancing at the silhouette of your husband, cooking in the kitchen, which makes a subtle pout appear on your plump lips.
you had been excited all week for this day, hoping to spend even more time with osamu — even if it meant spending the whole day in bed, relaxing in each other’s embrace. but no, the brown-haired man just decided to spend the whole day trying new onigiri flavors with raw salmon, much to your dismay.
you were always so eager to try osamu’s new recipes only now you can’t eat those while being four months pregnant and your husband knows that, which is why he banned you from the kitchen.
you stand up from your chair, balancing yourself with a hand on the dining table before making your way over to the kitchen.
when you step in your apartment’s kitchen, the first thing you notice is the familiar smell of the koshihikari, the rice osamu uses for his onigiris.
osamu is standing there, dressed in a large, black shirt along with a pair of grey sweatpants. the shirt draped around his body is an old one, the color is fading away and the fabric extends under the brown-haired man’s collarbone, flashing you a great view of his upper-chest.
he doesn’t notice you entering the kitchen until he feels a hand wrap around the biceps of his left hand. he doesn’t even turn his head towards you, busy finishing the last touches on his new onigiri, a small smile on his face.
“‘n. . . done !” he announces, dragging the ‘and’ a bit longer than necessary.
he finally turns to you, opening one of his arms to you. you immediately snuggle to his side, both arms wrapping around his torso, your head resting on his upper-chest while one of his arms wraps around your waist.
“looks good, heh ?” your husband asks you, looking down at you, a proud expression on his face. softly, he lifts his hand, pushing a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, one that got out of your low ponytail, before pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead.
“you’re mean.” you complain, letting out a humf as you pout your plump lips, glaring at him. “you know i can’t eat those and you’re nagging me !”
osamu laughs at your accusation, shaking his head from side to side before holding his free hand up in surrender. “yeah i know, ‘m sorry.”
he places a chaste kiss on your lips as an apology, to which you immediately kiss him back, the frown on your face disappears, replaced by a soft smile.
osamu is the first to part away from the kiss, pressing his lips against your temple before turning to the plate of onigiri in front of him.
much to your dismay, he moves his body away from yours, grabbing the small plate and putting it in the fridge.
while your husband cleans up the space he used on the countertop, your eyes find a small bowl of leftover koshihikari rice.
“you’re not gonna use it, are you ?” you ask the brown-haired man as you point to the small bowl in front of you.
osamu looks away from what he’s doing, noticing the rice bowl you’re pointing at. “nah.” he shrugs his shoulders.
as if on cue, an idea comes to your mind, a new pregnancy craving, a very strange pregnancy craving.
you turn on your heels, making your way towards the fridge as you hum a soft tune. you open the fridge’s door, bending over, your eyes searching for something as you rest a hand on your pregnant belly.
your eyes shine as you finally find what you were looking for. you close the fridge’s door behind you, holding a pot of yogurt in one hand.
osamu watches with furrowed eyebrows as you make your way back to your original spot, watching as you peel the yogurt’s lid open. “the hell are ya doin’ ?” he asks, genuinely confused.
“creamy rice.” you happily answer him, grabbing a large spoon in one of the kitchen’s drawers.
“‘n what is that ?” osamu asks you again, even more confused than before, visibly not trusting you with whatever you plan on doing.
“it’s a craving i just came up with !” you announce as you pour a bit of the liquid-ish yogurt in the rice with the spoon. “rice, yogurt, peanut butter, jam and granola !”
as soon as you present the ingredients to him, osamu makes the most disgusted face you’ve ever seen.
“that’s not a craving, ts’ a crime.” he declares, which makes you roll your eyes. “so y’er tellin’ me that y’er gonna eat that ?”
“that’s what your son wants.” you tell him as you roll your eyes. “you don’t have a say in that.”
“don’t ya dare tell me y’er stomach hurt after that.” osamu warns you, still not quite trusting you.
you shoot him a glare, making him raise his hands, before turning back to your concoction. you mix both the rice and the plain yogurt together, creating a creamy, chewy texture by doing so.
osamu moves closer to you, just in case you need his help, leaning against the kitchen island, watching with furrowed brows as you cook your craving.
he watches as you grab the pot of peanut butter on one of the kitchen’s upper shelves, getting on tip toes to reach it, determined not to ask for your husband’s help. unfortunately, you try to twist the pot’s lid open, only for it to stay closed, making you groan in annoyance.
osamu moves beside you, taking the peanut butter pot with one of his hands, it you’re still holding it firmly in both your hands.
“i can do it myself.” you affirm, looking up at your husband than at his hand, silently telling him to let you handle it.
“i know, but lemme do it for ya.” osamu insists, taking the peanut butter away from you while your grip on it loosens.
he effortlessly snaps the lid open, a cocky grin on his face as he shoots you a glance. he grabs the large spoon sitting in the kitchen countertop, taking a spoonful of the peanut butter before pouring it into the small bowl.
your husband then grabs the raspberry jam pot, opening it with one hand before pouring a good amount in the bowl. he does the same with the granola, spreading it a bit everywhere on top of your concoction.
“there ya go.” osamu hands you the bowl and spoon, still not convinced by your strange craving.
you thank him, planting a sweet peck on his cheek before turning to the bowl in front of you. you dig your spoon inside of the mixture, taking a spoonful of everything and shoving the spoon into your mouth.
a pleased sigh escaped your lips as you munch on your craving, closing your eyes and savoring the different flavors of the concoction.
“better than i imagined.” you admit as you point the spoon towards osamu who looks at you with a dumbfounded expression.
“yeah nah, i can’t do this.” he says, scratching the back of his neck as he watches you enjoy your meal.
osamu steps out of the kitchen, shaking his head from side to side, still surprised by the way you actually liked it, which makes you laugh.
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