#Home cooking with Chefs Plate

[alexlikeart]

Late night dinner. Who said that fancy has to be expensive and-only when you go out.

[bunny-jpeg]

well behaved

capt. john price

tags: smut/pwp, married life, wife!reader, husband!price, (house) wife kink, dresses, missionary position & mating press, misogyny, darker themes

price ran his team tightly. he had to. it was life or death, and the manner in which he ran his team, he saw great success. so it was only natural for price to run his home the same way. while it wasn't like a military task force, it was still ran with set roles and tasks for all members. he was the husband and you the wife.

and being the wife of john price meant tasks steeped in tradition. price wanted a proper woman to be his wife and expected only the best from you.

"don't touch those, john." you smacked price's hand away lightly, "they're for dinner, silly." then leaned over to kiss him on the lips.

"ah, sorry, lovie. couldn't help myself." he replied, "you know how much i love watchin' ya cook dinner. even the carrots." he leaned over and pinched your behind as he watched you continue to cook for a moment longer. his gaze lingered for a moment before he went back to the living room to watch the same.

that was your task, to take care of the home. you cooked price's meals and served it to him. he loved your cooking, to him you cooked like a proper chef and you were all his!

you got the roast out of the oven and asked in your sweet tone, "honey, do you want to eat at the table or in front of the television?"

"table's good, petal." he replied before he got up with a slight huff from the couch and with his beer headed to the table. he watched you serve dinner and when you finally sat down, you had your own plate of dinner. the missus gotta eat too!

price eyes the roast,but then eyed you across the table. in the dress you wore. you often wore dresses and fine jewellery. you had to look like a respectable wife after all! not the slags who called themselves 'barrack bunnies' that mactavish brought him. you were price's good girl.

before you could start your meal, price gestured for you to come to him for a moment. you obeyed and price pulled you onto his lap. he kept a strong arm around you. "my missus made this all for me, huh?" he pulled you a little closer. he got some of the mashed potatoes on the fork and fed it to you.

you replied, "no, you eat!"

"oh, don't worry. if i'm still hungry. i'll just have you." he said as his thick fingers touched your inner thigh. "pretty thing." he cooed as he played with your soft skin as he ate. in the process he fed you parts of his dinner.

price's task of the unit was to work and take care of you. you took care of the home and he made sure you wanted for nothing. if the rock on your finger was anything to go by, you were well taken care of.

"mmm, john. honey."

he chuckled beofre he kissed your cheek, "gotta take care of the wife. can't have an unhappy home." he continued to eat, only pulling his hand away from you when he had to cut the meat with a steak knife.

but even your amazing roast was nothing compared to your sweet cunt. that of course meant that you couldn't even finish cleaning up the dishes before your husband had you hoisted into his arms and headed to the bedroom.

price loved to keep you up. only right for a husband to feel up his wife. he loved his big, calloused hands on your round behind or your soft hips. he groped you as he unzipped your dress once he finally put you down on the bed. he then got you out of your string of pearls. you really did live a fairly charmed life.

your husband continued to strip you free of your clothes and he licked his lips at the sight of you when you were in only your push-up bra. he then got you out of it then felt up your bare breasts. he toyed with your nipples using his thumbs.

"my woman." he said, "nabbed yourself an older man who loved to make a mess of your pretty pussy. your love men who are bigger, hairier and who can fold you in half to ruin your cunt." he eyed you up and down, "i bet she misses me, huh?"

you blushed even more and you ended up splayed out in bed under your husband. he rubbed your hefty cock up against you. you swallowed when you felt the blunt head right up against you.

"my beautiful wife. so perfect for me. from the meals you cook to the cunt that keeps my boys safe. no need to masturbate when i got myself a wife to fuck every night. making me food, keepin' my house clean. you have no need to think too hard when you have a husband to do it for you." he sank into you and he watched your back arch. your cunt tight around him as he started to fuck you.

mrs. price's cunt was heaven on earth.

"mmm, john!" you whined loudly. the blunt head of your husband's cock hit deep inside of you. it felt like he was past your cervix and you knew very well that john price was a womb bruiser.

he continued to move against you, he eyed you as he thrusts. he admired your soft breasts. they moved as price rocked into you. it left him hypnotized. price kept his weight onto you, he kept you pinned to the bed. you were his wife and you'd take every inch he gave you. you whined under him and he admired you. every curve you held. the softness of your body. you were a heavenly, beautiful goddess. price's loving wife.

he bullied his cock inside of you. your burly, string husband who could melt you with the warmth of his love. while your marriage was a little more traditional and a little unconventional but, you felt more loved and adored than with any other man you could ever love. your older, strong husband would always love you. he'd die for you. so it was only fair you kept him satisfied

and that wasn't hard given how obsessed he was with your pretty little cunt. no other way to die than between the legs of his missus. "you're beautiful under me, lovie. you look like heaven under me. takin' me like no one else." he chuckled, "that's my petal, takin' your husband beautifully."

you moaned a little louder as he continued to fuck your soaked cunt. this was everything. price didn't need a woman with a forty hour work week. no, he needed a wife to care for the home. to care for him. you spoiled him with love and he spoiled you with whatever you desired. whatever you craved.

that was what a proper man did for his wife, he made sure you were taken care of. he loved the sight of you as he fucked you. your knees were hiked up and his cock pushed into your further given the new angle. price knew he was a bruiser and he loved it when his pretty little wife's pussy took him. the sweet thing he got to make a mess of every night.

he moved further and laid heavy kisses on you. he couldn't get enough of you. you drove him mad. no wonder he did everything to make sure you were taken care of.

he was addicted to his wife, his little housewife.

"ah, honey." you moaned a little louder, the pleasure was realy working through you. right up to your core. price's heavy thrusts sent shocks through your blood and your achy core yearned for him. he was a good husband. a traditional one, but he loved you and you loved him. you tensed up at the hot feeling in your gut. everything felt alive in your body was you needed him. you relied on your husband, even for things like orgasms.

"ah, please!" you whined loudly. you sounded almost desperate as price fucked you faster. you felt the fire in your belly as he nudged his cock up against you.

price's pace lost focus and the man was relying on instinct to get you both to climax. you felt the immense heat take you over as the older man roughly fucked you. your sweet moans sounded whorish as he made you finish.

"beautiful petal. you know how to drive me crazy." he laugh, a little out of breath as he worked your achy pussy through climax. the stimulation made your mind go blank for a moment. he loved you, he loved your cunt. loved it so much that he didn't last much longer. it was like you had him under a spell. anything you want, you got.

price fucked you through his climax and made sure every drop of him was safe in your gummy soft pussy. he pressed his forehead against yours when he slowed to a stop. he kissed you lazily with a lot of tongue as he pressed his softening cock as deep as i would go. you made the ideal wife for him.

and in return price did anything for his missus <3

[seat-safety-switch]

I don't know if you've ever been to Paris before, but I recommend going. Normally, I would not have gone, but I made a really rich enemy on IRC and he spent a lot of money to have me kidnapped and brought to his home country. While I was there, I got to try a bunch of restaurants (they're hostage-takers, not barbarians) and came away impressed. Something was missing, though, and herein is my genius idea.

In Paris you can get any kind of food. Chinese, Vietnamese, Japanese, Thai: and it's all good. All of it. You literally can't find a bad restaurant. At one point, I walked into a convenience store and got a plate of one-Euro nachos that made me cry at the beauty of the arrangement.

Everyone around me was taking this for granted. Having lived there for years, their quality threshold had crept invisibly upwards until nothing could impress again. They needed something to re-calibrate their sense of truly bad food. That's where I came in. After I got kicked out of the country, I decided to come back with some investor support. I can burn cereal, usually by roasting it gently with a blowtorch on the top of an old gas can. Investors were easy to find.

Our first week of opening was tremendous. Hardened Parisians were discovering their first taste of truly incompetent food. The novelty of it all had captured them. There's just one problem, though: after making an entire lunch rush's feast of poorly-cut toast in reheated canned soup, my cooking skills began to improve from sheer experience. The complaints began to change tone. You got too good, they cried, you're not the same bad chef we once loved. Again, I was deported.

I looked out the window of the plane as it left De Gaulle, staring down onto the beautiful streets of Paris. Down there, I imagined, real gourmets were now eating food out of trash cans out of desperation to recapture what they had experienced with me. If there is one nice thing to be said, I now have two Michelin Stars here in my homeland of Canada, where my consommé-and-grilled-cheese recipe is now so much better than most of our restaurants that it made the Prime Minister Herself come and spit in my face for ruining the economy, before awarding me an Order of Canada. It's not the same.

[lufyuu]

Dragon's Offsprings

Tw/s: voyeurism, double penetrating, rough Zihao, breeding, inserting eggs(?)

Description: a drabble of the freaky Zihao

Pitter patter

The rain seems to never stop. It has been raining for almost 3 days straight. Despite the heavy rain, Liu Zihao would always travel the long way to the courthouse to work. The rain doesn't stop criminals from commiting crimes, it encourages them in a way. Though that doesn't include you who have been in the manor for a long month. You got used to this lifestyle a long time ago. Waking up whenever you want, going to bed whenever you want, having whatever food you wanted. The only restriction is that you are not allowed outside without Zihao being there by your side. It's not too bad, better than being chased all the time anyways.

Today's not too bad, at least so far. You're home alone, the chefs and maids having left as per your request. Despite being home alone, you can't escape, you've tried before and it's really no worth all that work just to be tracked down again in just a mere minute. Liu Zihao always knows where you are. You look at the clock which points at a quarter to 6pm. Usually Zihao's home for dinner around this time. Whatever, probably had more work to do today. You'll just eat dinner by yourself.

The aroma of delicious food floods your nose. Your eyes are drawn to the two plates placed on the table. You take one plate and start munching on food while sitting down. Even if it's a large yet quiet and empty house, you pay no mind to that as you've lived alone for a while before all this luxury. The steal is cooked just to your liking, it's juicy and delicious with the right amount of spices added to make sure it's not too salty yet not bland at all. After chewing on the steak, you take the fork and grab some pasta plates next to the steak. Twisting it and lifting the fork to your lips. It's creamy and flavourful, the saltiness and creamy flavour compliments each other very well. You enjoy the meal to the fullest in silence, enjoying every second.

You throw the empty and dirty plate in the sink, not bothering to wash it. Zihao will deal with it like he always does. No reason to waste your time with that. 'Now what do I do?' , you wonder to yourself while walking up the flight of stairs, heading to your bedroom. Oftentimes, your bed is also Zihao's bed. He loves cuddling up with you and just making sure you're within his grasp. "Agh", you plop face first onto the soft bed. For some reason, the atmosphere is off without Zihao. Usually by this time, he'd already be fucking you dumb until you pass out or get too tired to continue. You wouldnt ever admit it but it became a routine. Your body's gotten used to it and so have you. Because of this, you feel like you need to do something about this itching feeling you have.

"Ah...ngh", you moan, face flushed with a vibrating dildo deep in your hole. Your teeth's biting onto your lifted shirt, your dominant hand pushing and pulling the dildo in and out. "Z-Zihao..mm..!", you unconsciously moan out his name, your other hand now on your dick going up and down to stimulate yourself even more. No matter how much you stimulate yourself, you can't seem to cum. You need something bigger to please you. Usually you'd be ashamed to even think about Zihao let alone his two cocks but right now, as you're trying to chase your climax, it doesn't matter. "More...aagghh", you moan out even louder than before, not noticing the piercing purple eyes staring at your sweaty and horny figure from the top of the stairs.

You close your eyes, imagining it was Zihao inside you right now and not a silicone wannabe. "F-fuckk..!", you almost yell out, getting so close to cumming. When you hear footsteps close to where you are, you immediately freeze and look at who it is. Your ego instantly crushed, the embarrassment getting to you, hard. You reach over for the fluffy blanket only for it to be thrown at the wall and fall onto the floor by a mere gesture of Zihao's fingers. With another snap of his fingers, a comfortable chair appears infront of the bed. He sits with his legs crossed, head leaning on his hand which is cushioned on the chair. "Do continue", his expression remains unchanged, it's a plain expression, neither a smile nor frown, his eyes are relaxed but at the same time, they're demanding you to continue on your little action. Despite this, you remain frozen long enough for him to demand once more, "was I not clear? Continue your little activity, now.", it sends shivers down your spine, as if he's a predator and you're his prey.

Without a way out of this, you spread your legs and continue letting the dildo go in and out of you, each time faster and faster than before. Now with a pair of eyes watching you do this to yourself, it's embarrassing, you feel like crying due to how bad of a fall your ego took. Never in your life did you think you'd be putting on a show for anyone. "Ngh...", you try to cover your own voice, biting your lip to prevent your moans from getting too loud. This doesn't amuse Zihao at all. "Stop biting your lip", his voice alone makes your body shiver in fear. Reluctantly, you stop biting your lip, "a-ahh...aggh..", the pleasure overtaking your thoughts, in the heat of the moment, you blurt out: "Z-Zihao.."

Just one word. One singular word. That was enough for Zihao to widen his eyes and instantly get up, "that's enough.", he looks down on your figure which is laying on the bed, all prepped and ready to take his cocks and maybe something more.

In a blink of an eye, he pushes you to the bedframe as you are now sitting up, your back laying against the bedframe. He takes off his coat and throws it aside, not caring if it got dirty or wrinkled. "My mate can't even stand a few hours without me, how cute", he smiles a bit, blushing while you're up against the bedframe, horny and wanting him to be deep inside you already without so much yapping.

As if reading your mind, he grants you your wish and shoves his two hard cocks in your hole almost immediately after you thought about them. He guides your hands to wrap around his neck. Then, he holds the sides of your hips and begins to pound in and out of you, you cursing everytime it goes in. Thankfully, your hole is already lubricated, giving the cocks an easier time in fucking your hole. You feel so full but usually it takes Zihao a long long time to decide it's finally time to stop. His thrusts are rough, not in the slightest bit gentle. The bulge on your stomach is very much visible, it moves up and down your lower stomach in a fast pace. "Agh..m", he grunts and moans, feeling the tightness of your hole as you clench down, feeling close to cumming. Your moans get progressively louder by the second. Zihao makes sure it does by pounding even harder.

"Cu-cumming..! Aggghh", you moan loudly while cumming, the cum splurting all over your own body while Zihao is still pounding you. He's chasing his own climax. You feel overstimulated as he's pounding so roughly. It's a lot rougher than usual but you barely notice due to your brain being so foggy by this point. "You're ready to take my children, aren't you my dear mate?", he asks but it's more of a rhetorical question. Before you can answer his absurd question, you feel something being pushed into you, something big. Multiple of them. "Z-Zihao..ah, what's tha—aghh", you feel him cumming inside, his cum thicker and much more than usual. You don't notice it but the mark on your lower stomach started glowing for a mere 3 seconds before returning back to its solid purple color.

Zihao pulls out both his cocks yet despite that, your stomach still has a visible bulge. You feel so so full and not just because of his cum. "Zihao, what's inside me..?", you ask him, confused on what he put inside to make you look bloated. "Oh my dear, those are my eggs", your eyes widen immediately and you try to jump up or out the bed but he stops you, "we can't afford you getting hurt when you're carrying our children", he frowns and looks at you as if this is common knowledge. He's ready to take the role of the father of his kids and your one and only husband, but are you?

══════════════════════════════

There you have it freakies, you're now gon' lay eggs/hj

[gghostwriter]

Can i have a fluffy spencer x reader piece. Just something cozy where they are all at rossis maybe after a case for some team bonding and chill time. And like he is offering everyone wine and reader goes along like "i can't" bcs she pregnant? Fluff fluff super fluff pls

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Fluff! Just fluff! wc: 0.6k A/N: Reader is not part of the BAU, hope that's alright. I had fun writing this, hope you enjoy! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗 Main masterlist

Special Diet. // Spencer Reid

Your fiancee and his team had been out on the field for three consecutive cases all over the country. Just through Spencer’s nightly ritual calls alone, you could tell how tired and stressed he was and by extension the other members. Which was why, during their second night back in home ground, you volunteered to cook them a small feast—as long as Rossi hosted it in his place, which he readily agreed to as he was never one to say ‘no’ when a culinary chef such as yourself volunteers to cook up a meal.

“So what did our local chef cook up for the night?” Morgan asked as the team sat around the laid out table by the backyard.

You smiled, placing the finishing touches on the table. “I wanted to give the Italian cuisine a break so I present to you, French delicacies. For the starters, we have here salade lyonnaise with slices of baguette—” gesturing to the mid-size plate to their upper left. “—our mains, steak frites, and yes, I remembered to make yours rare, Morgan—” a few chuckles escaped from the team members as the called out profiler sheepishly placed his hand down “—and profiteroles for dessert.”

Rossi then started going around the table with his choice of wine to match the lavish dinner you’ve prepared.

“If you weren’t engaged to Reid, I’d marry you,” Penelope gushed as she took a bite of her meal.

Emily chuckled. “Get in line, Penelope. I get to marry her first if she changes her mind.”

“You never fail to impress me, Bambina. Now can I interest you for a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon?” Rossi asked as he reached your seat between Spencer and Emily.

“Actually, no thank you,” your answer eliciting an echo of utensils being dropped on the table. “I’m trying to cut back.”

JJ leaned forward. “Our very own wine connoisseur is saying no to Rossi’s aged wine?”

“I’m trying this special diet,” you shrugged, subtly studying if any of the best profilers the FBI has to offer understood the real reason why. Based on Hotch’s small smile behind his glass wine, the unit chief had caught on quite quickly.

“You don’t need to diet. You’re petite and fit, right kid?” Morgan clarified.

The corners of Spencer’s lips pulled slightly up as he squeezed your hand in his. “Actually, she does need to stick to the diet.”

Penelope gasped, clearly appalled at the stance your fiancee had taken. “Take that back! No way you said that, Reid!”

You giggled at the affronted reactions of the team—minus Hotch and Rossi as the two older profilers clinked their glasses together at the side. “It’s fine, Penny. It’s the truth anyway.”

Emily sent a dirty look to Spencer before asking on. “What else does this special diet entail?”

“Unpasteurized dairy, cold cuts, liver, game meat, and raw sushi to name a few,” Spencer listed out loud and with each, the smile on his face grew bigger and bigger.

“Wait, isn’t that—” JJ mumbled before promptly standing up from her seat and rushing to give you a hug.

Morgan tilted his head to the side. “What? What did I miss?”

Spencer chuckled before revealing the most obvious clue. “She has to follow the strict diet for 36 more weeks.”

There was a beat of silence before shouts and squeals emitted from all ends of the table.

“You’re pregnant?” Penelope gasped.

Emily added on. “With boy genius?”

You both nodded, bringing out a printed sonogram safely tucked in Spencer’s jacket that was draped around your shoulders. It had been a surprise when you went in for your yearly check-up but it was the type of news that Spencer quickly became happy with. His own family was expanding and he couldn’t have chosen a better partner than you.

“We present to you, baby Reid!”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[hoshifighting]

Can you pleaseeee also write staff mingyu x idol reader🥹🥹

staff!mingyu

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, jealousy, suggestive. may be triggering because of; extreme diets, blackout, getting scolded by the choreographer, fingering, a bit of possessive talk, hair pulling, cock riding, devoted mingyu too.

staff!mingyu who you're in one of those tiny-ass dressing rooms with, the ones where you can barely move without smacking into a light fixture or tripping over cables, andhe's , towering over you, big frame almost making the room look even smaller. he’s your stylist-slash-PA-slash-damage-control-for-whatever-stupid-thing-you-say-in-interviews guy, which means he’s there to check every last detail on you, no matter how close he’s gotta get.

it’s day four of this overseas tour—barely halfway in, and you’re already feeling like you’re running on fumes. you’re dodging local food left and right, not ’cause it doesn’t look good, but ‘cause it’s either not on this wild diet they’ve shoved you on or it just doesn’t sit right with your stomach. for real, you didn’t think there’d be a point in your career where you'd be skipping meals, just ‘cause the food doesn’t fit some "ideal look" they cooked up for you.

and staff!mingyu... always there, at the exact moment when your stomach’s about to start an opera of complaints, hands full of grocery bags and this half-smile on his face, like he’s in on some inside joke only the two of you share.

“alright, sit down,” he says, like you’re gonna argue, and starts unloading enough ingredients to feed a small village. he moves around the hotel kitchenette—pots, pans, seasonings, a whole rotation of stuff he’s pulled outta his endless stash. he even managed to drag around a few of those little plastic spice bottles from home, ‘cause apparently, foreign supermarkets don’t stock paprika exactly how he wants it.

“didn’t know your resume included chef duties,” you joke, propping your chin on your hand as you watch him chop veggies with the same focus you’ve seen when he’s backstage, touching up your makeup or fixing your outfits.

he laughs easy. “oh, it doesn’t,” he says, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. “but you looked like you were about to faint this morning, so i figured i’d make an exception.”

“what, you gonna make a whole buffet?” you tease, but the moment he sets that first plate down, you’re quiet. it’s nothing fancy, but it smells like heaven—garlic, spices, veggies mixed with something hearty, real food for the first time in days.

“look, you eat this, or i swear i’m shoving it down your throat myself,” he says, crossing his arms, and even though he’s joking, there’s this serious fringe in his eyes. like, he won’t let you get away with just picking at the food.

“alright, alright.” you dig in, taking that first bite, and it’s somehow exactly what you needed—warm, filling, like someone wrapped you in a blanket from the inside out. you’re not even halfway done, and he’s already cleaning up, telling you about how he once had to do this for himself, back when he was training and could barely afford takeout, let alone proper meals.

“so, yeah, i’ve been cooking for years,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. and it hits you then, this guy, who’s supposed to be here to make sure your eyeliner doesn’t smudge, is actually going out of his way to make sure you’re not just a shell of yourself on stage.

“you know, if this whole career thing falls through, you’d make a damn good chef,” you say, and he just shakes his head, laughing.

“nah,” he says, “i think i like this job better. get to keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t faint halfway through a song.”

staff!mingyu who notices everything, who noticed how you walked into the practice room that day looking like... hell, honestly. there were bags under your eyes so dark they could’ve been bruises, and your skin was that shade of pale that came from days of no sleep, maybe a crazy diet, who knows what else. mingyu was hanging out with a bunch of the other staff in the corner, narrowly paying attention at first, but then he caught sight of you—really looked at you—and yeah, it wasn’t just fatigue. he knew what he was seeing; it was that same look he’d seen too many times in trainees and idols back in the day. the look that meant you’d been pushing way too far for way too long.

by the time you got through the first set of counts, your choreographer was already on your case, his tone sharp as knives. “again,” he snapped, crossing his arms, and you could practically hear his frustration from across the room. “you’re not even hitting the moves properly. what is this?” he scoffed, giving you that disappointed stare that always made you feel about two inches tall. “do you even want to be here right now?”

mingyu’s fists clenched a little. he’d seen you pull off that choreography a hundred times before, and he knew damn well it wasn’t that you didn’t care. it was that you literally didn’t have anything left in the tank, and this guy was still going in on you like you were some slacker.

but you didn’t argue back, didn’t defend yourself, nothing. just bowed your head, muttering, “i’m sorry,” in this tiny, defeated voice. mingyu could see the exhaustion written all over you, the way your shoulders slumped, how you couldn’t even lift your head all the way back up after bowing. you just stayed there, bent over in that apologetic pose, like maybe that was the last bit of strength you could pull together.

but then, as he watched, you didn’t straighten up at all. in fact, you didn’t move for a solid couple of seconds. and then, like you were a puppet whose strings had just been cut, you dropped. one second, you were still standing, and the next, your knees buckled, and you collapsed right there on the damn floor.

for a split second, no one reacted; it was like the room had frozen.

but then mingyu snapped out of it, his heart racing as he lunged forward. the rest of the staff started moving too, voices rising in panic, but mingyu was already at your side, leaning down and calling your name, voice barely hiding the worry.

“hey! hey, can you hear me?” he said, reaching out to gently shake your shoulder. you were breathing, but it was shallow, and your face had gone even paler than before, if that was possible. mingyu felt this pang in his chest seeing you like that. you’d been pushing so hard that your own body just gave up on you.

someone behind him was calling for water, another person was getting the choreographer to back the hell off.

jobs in general weren’t easy, he knew that. but for mingyu, there was nothing worse than watching idols, the people he was supposed to support and protect, get wrecked like this—shoving themselves into diets, swallowing the criticism like it was part of the gig, sacrificing sleep and health just to fit into a pair of jeans or to mold into some industry standard that kept shifting.

he’d been in this job for years, and he’d seen it all before. too many nights spent watching trainees lose more weight than was healthy, idols pushing themselves until they’d practically faded away. sometimes, in the back of his mind, he wondered if it’d be worth leaving, finding a path where he didn’t have to witness it all so up close. he’d think about it on those long nights when he was running on four hours of sleep and too much coffee, wondering what the hell he was doing here when he could be somewhere else, not dealing with the cycle of pushing and breaking and then pushing even harder.

but then there was you. you, with your stubborn smile and that relentless drive he couldn’t help but admire. maybe it was that same drive that had you here, running yourself down like you’d forgotten how to stop. but mingyu had felt that pang deep in his chest at the thought of not being around you—of not being there to see you through the highs and lows, to make sure you had someone who cared about more than just your stage presence.

it was that thought, that tiny, persistent ache, that kept him rooted here every damn day. even if he had to watch you crash sometimes, even if it drained him dry just trying to keep up, he’d stay. he���d be right there, whether you knew it or not, making sure that someone in your corner would be looking out for you, whether you wanted it or needed it, or not.

staff!mingyu who’d quietly made it his side mission to keep you fed, like he’d added it to his job description without anyone even asking. it started small, maybe just a little sandwich he’d stash in his bag for you after seeing you collapse that one time. but then it became routine, almost sacred, the way he’d show up like clockwork with that lunch pack in hand, looking half like your bodyguard in his all-black staff gear, half like your own personal chef with a menu that he swore changed every time he showed up.

“mingyu, what’d you make me today?” you’d ask, bouncing into the dressing room after each performance, all amped up and practically beaming because, let’s face it, you’d come to love his little surprise meals more than you’d admit.

and mingyu, with that smug but bashful little smile, would act all nonchalant. “oh, nothing much… just a little chicken and veggie stir-fry,” he’d say, but it was always something next level—some five-star recipe he’d learned just for you. and the best part? he’d make it seem like it was nothing, just a side gig he’d taken up on the fly, when really he’d been researching recipes, planning, and even practicing to make sure it came out perfect.

he’d hand you the lunch pack like he was passing off something top secret, keeping a close eye as you took that first bite, watching for any sign you didn’t like it. but, of course, you always loved it. because mingyu wasn’t just making food—he was making damn art. you’d take a bite, eyes lighting up as you hummed in appreciation, and he’d try to hold back that grin but always failed, shoulders relaxing like he’d just won something.

“you don’t get it, mingyu,” you’d say, mouth full but smiling like a kid on christmas. “i think you’re the reason my performance’s getting better. you’re, like, my actual secret weapon.”

and he’d laugh, pretending to brush it off, but inside? he was proud. because knowing you were hitting the stage with a full belly, with energy to burn and that spark back in your eyes—that meant everything. it was his way of giving back to you, even if you never asked for it, even if you didn’t realize how much he cared.

staff!mingyu who somehow became the world’s best photographer without ever meaning to, taking these casual, almost-too-good photos of you that drove your fans insane. you’d be walking through some cobblestone street in italy or leaning out of a coffee shop in tokyo, and he’d be there, catching that perfect shot with his phone. no fancy equipment, no staged poses—just mingyu, with his natural eye for what made you shine, snapping photos that were somehow intimate and made you look like everyone’s dream. fans called them “girlfriend pics,” and if only they knew the man behind the lens.

you had to admit it—he was stealing your heart a little more with every click. at first, you brushed it off as some harmless crush, a side effect of him being so damn good at his job. but then he’d do something small, like bring you soup when you were sick, or drape his coat over your shoulders when you got cold during a late-night rehearsal, and it’d hit you all over again. mingyu, with that goofy smile, the biggest heart, and hands that somehow felt gentle and grounding as he adjusted your hair or let you lean on him during those endless backstage waiting times.

it was easy to fall for him. too easy, really. and the way he cared? the way he was there for you, always? how could you not? he had this way of making you feel seen, like no matter how chaotic things got, he was your solid ground, always steady, always there to keep you safe and keep you going.

but, of course, staff!mingyu was a catch to more than just you. you’d see the way the other staff members watched him, the way some of them giggled and whispered, eyes lingering a little too long. and mingyu, ever the nice guy, didn’t even seem to notice—or maybe he did, but he didn’t really care. he’d give his number when they asked, smile back when they flirted, just being his usual, friendly self. you’d tell yourself it didn’t bother you, but the truth was, it was like a little ache in your chest every time.

after a show one night, you and the whole team went out to celebrate, and mingyu was right there, laughing, clinking glasses with everyone, in his element. when it got late, exhaustion finally started to settle in, and you decided to call it a night. you told everyone you were heading back to the hotel, hoping he’d maybe do the same.

but mingyu didn’t. he stayed behind, still chatting and laughing with a few of the girls from the staff, and you could feel it—that twinge of jealousy, the frustration, knowing they’d probably spend the rest of the night with him, hanging on his every word, maybe more.

as you looked back one last time, watching him, it hit you like a punch in the gut. maybe to him, all this was just work—a job. you were part of that, someone he cared about, but just someone in his care. and the pang of that realization stung. maybe you weren’t so special after all.

what you were about to do wasn’t right. hell, it felt downright selfish. you sat in the bathtub, hot water swirling around you, trying to drown out the nagging voice in your head that told you to just let it go, that this was a bad idea. but you couldn’t shake it off—every thought twisted into a knot in your stomach. you felt almost sick, like you had this strange, heavy weight pressing down on your chest, something that felt more like heartbreak than anything else.

“god, what am i doing?” you muttered to yourself, scrubbing at your skin like it might wash away the confusion. you knew mingyu was just doing his job, that he was sweet and caring and everything you admired. but watching him flirt with those girls, knowing they’d likely take him away for the night, made you feel like you were going to hurl.

“ugh, this is so dumb,” you groaned, splashing water around, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. “why can’t i just be normal about this? it’s not like i’m his girlfriend or anything.”

but then the truth hit you again, a sharp stab of clarity amidst the chaos. you wanted to be.

after a few more minutes of spiraling, you said “fuck it,” feeling a rush of determination surge through you. you fished your phone out of your towel, thumb hovering over his name. your heart raced as you typed out the message.

“hey, mingyu. i know you’re probably busy, but i just wanted to say... i’m not feeling great. kind of sick, actually. do you think you could come by?”

you hit send, the knot in your stomach twisting tighter as you leaned back against the tub. was this too much? but then again, maybe it was time to stop hiding how you felt, to admit you needed him without a million excuses holding you back. it was either that or let him slip away for good, and you weren’t ready for that.

mingyu came in a rush, as if he’d been waiting for your text the entire time. you barely had time to wrap yourself in a towel before he was at your door, knocking frantically. “y/n! are you okay? open up!”

you opened the door, and the sight of him—hair a little messy, eyes wide with worry—made your heart race. “yeah, um, just feeling a bit under the weather,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, but it wavered slightly. you didn’t want to come off as dramatic or needy.

he touched your forehead and you leaned into his touch without even realizing it, closing your eyes for a brief second “you don’t have a fever at all,” he said, confsed.

you pulled back abruptly, the warmth fading as reality crashed back in. clutching your towel tight around your body, you walked over to the window, pretending to be fascinated by the view outside. the city lights twinkled in the distance.

“y/n?” mingyu called, confusion clear in his voice. “what’s going on?”

you couldn’t believe you took one of his rare moments of lounge because of being selfish. mingyu leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his brow furrowed in confusion. “y/n, you were perfectly fine just a few hours ago. what’s really going on?” he asked, the suspicion creeping into his voice.

“i told you, it’s just a little... off,” you replied, avoiding his gaze. the guilt gnawed at your insides, knowing you were lying, but the way he was looking at you made it hard to come clean.

“off?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow. “that’s the best you can come up with? you don’t just go from fine to ‘i need my staff member to check on me’ for no reason.” he took a step closer, eyes narrowing. “you’re not actually sick, are you? what’s up?”

you shifted uncomfortably, the towel clinging to you. “seriously, mingyu, it’s nothing. maybe just a little headache or something,” you said, hoping the casual tone would brush off his concern.

he let out a huff of disbelief. “a headache? so bad that you needed me to rush in here? that doesn’t add up.” he studied you, like he was piecing together a puzzle. “just tell me the truth. are you really feeling sick, or is there something else bothering you?”

“i just thought maybe you could... keep me um... company, you know? just for a bit.”

“keep you company?” he repeated, tone incredulous. “so you fake being sick just to get me in here? you could’ve just asked! you know i’m always down to hang out.”

“mingyu—” you started.

but he cut you off, his voice firm, the playful light fading from his eyes.

“why would you do that? this isn’t some joke, y/n. my job isn’t a game. it’s serious.”

you pressed your lips together at his louder tone, the shock of it stinging more than you expected. you hadn’t meant for things to escalate this badly, and as you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, it hit you like a ton of bricks: you never thought mingyu would raise his voice at you. it felt so out of place, so foreign, and your heart sank.

“hey, hey, i’m sorry,” he said, the anger melting away as he noticed your expression. he stepped closer, the care flooding back into his eyes.

you quickly wiped your eyes before the tears could fall, you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “you know what? i hate it,! you blurted out, unable to hold back any longer. “i hate when they’re all over you, mingyu! it makes me sick to my stomach!”

his brows furrowed, clearly caught off guard. “wait, what? you hate it when who’s all over me?”

“those girls! the staff!” you said, your voice rising with every word. “the way they throw themselves at you like you’re some kind of trophy. and you smile back at them, like it’s all just a joke or something. it drives me insane!”

mingyu looked stunned, blinking at you as if he were trying to process what you were saying. “y/n, are you—are you... jealous?”

“i — well— hell yeah, i’m jealous!” you shot back, frustration spilling over. “you’re so kind and caring, and they see that. they want you, and it feels like they think they can just waltz in and take you away from me. it’s infuriating!”

“but it’s just… it’s just me being friendly,” he stammered, “i’m not trying to lead anyone on. you know that, right?”

“i know, but it doesn’t change how it makes me feel,” you replied. “it’s like you’re this perfect guy, and they all want a piece of you. and here i am, just trying to keep my head above water, feeling like i have to compete for your attention.”

mingyu shook his head, a soft smile creeping onto his face despite the tension. “you don’t have to compete for anything. you’re… you’re the one who has my heart. all those girls? they’re just… coworkers.”

you pause, processing his words, and mingyu scoffs lightly, a teasing grin on his face.

“oh please, it’s true. you think i’m not bothered when i see those idols shoving their numbers on your sandwiches?”

you blink at him, completely taken aback. “wait, sandwiches? what are you talking about? i only eat the ones that you make for me.”

he interrupts you with that signature smile of his, one that always makes your heart race a little faster. “yeah, exactly. that’s ‘cause i always give those sandwiches to someone else.”

“mingyu, what the hell?”

“y/n, what the hell?” mingyu mocks, raising an eyebrow at you, a playful smirk creeping onto his face. “you seriously thought you could pull this off? lying about being sick? that’s low, even for you.”

you roll your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of defiance. “i wasn’t lying, i just—”

“sure, sure,” he cuts you off. “and is wearing just a towel part of your grand scheme too? because if it is, you’re gonna need to step it up a bit.”

“and what if i just want you to come over… in a towel?”

“then i’ll take that as a personal invite,” he grins, his gaze flickering to your towel before meeting your eyes again. “just know, if you’re gonna pull this kind of stunt, you better be prepared for me to take advantage of the situation.”

staff!mingyu who wastes no time, pressing forward until you’re caught between his solid frame and the cold glass, as his body pins you in place.

“you really went all out for this hm?” his fingers trailing down to the knot of your towel.

staff!mingyu who tugs the fabric free, letting it drop to the floor, leaving you fully naked. his hands spreading wide over your back, fingers firm as he turns you around to face the glass. your chest presses against the cool surface making you gasp as mingyu’s hand trails up your spine, steadying you.

staff!mingyu who grips your hips, pressing you forward, and then trails his hands up over your sides, his fingers brushing along your curves until he reaches your shoulders, leaving no part of you untouched, as though he’s marking every inch of your skin as his.

staff!mingyu who leans down, one hand sneaking around to splay across your stomach, pulling you closer to him, making you feel his hard erection on you.

staff!mingyu who lets his hand slip lower, teasing over the sensitive skin of your thigh before slipping higher, his fingers skillfully finding your pussy as he watches you through the reflection, face contorting in pleasure, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“don’t look away.” he instructs, his tone a command softened by that grin of his.

staff!mingyu who keeps one hand firm on your hip, controlling your every move as he slips his fingers inside you, “all this just because you couldn’t stand seeing me with someone else, huh?” he curls the fingers, trying to pull a response form you. “admit it,” he coaxes as he presses you harder against the glass, his fingers never relenting. “tell me you wanted this—wanted me.”

staff!mingyu who doesn’t stop until he feels you melt against him, a soft, teasing chuckle escaping as he takes in your breathless state. “next time,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, “just say the word. i’ll come running.”

staff!mingyu who yanks your hair, tipping your head back to meet his lips as you twist in his grip. it’s a little clumsy, the angle throwing you off, but he holds you steady, his mouth hot and insistent on yours. you’re all melting into him, trusting the way his hands keep you secure, letting him take control as his grip on you tightens.

staff!mingyu who, somehow, maneuvers you both towards the bedd, he scoops you up with ease, laying you back as he hovers over you, he presses his hands into the mattress on either side of your head, caging you in as he dips down, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your collarbone, down to your shoulder, and back up to your jaw.

staff!mingyu who takes his time, exploring every part of you with slow touches, like he’s determined to map out every reaction, to memorize every place that makes you moan.

staff!mingyu who, even in bed, is all about making sure you’re comfortable, arranging the pillows just so, adjusting the blankets if they’re too rough, whispering “is this okay?” and “tell me what you need” like he’s got all the time in the world. his hands are warm, grounding you, and he never rushes, taking the time to check in, to make sure you’re exactly where you want to be, that he’s giving you what you want, down to the smallest detail.

staff!mingyu who lets you wrap yourself around him however you want, all limbs and tangled sheets, whispering soft reassurances in your ear as his hands trace your back, making sure you feel safe. he’s patient, careful, coaxing you with soft, murmured words, taking his time until you’re both lost in it, every sensation heightened.

staff!mingyu who surprises you by pulling back, catching his breath, and suddenly flipping the roles—guiding your hands to explore him, encouraging you to take control. “i’m yours too, you know,” he murmurs, watching you with that familiar smile, the one that’s equal parts playful and sincere, as he lets you explore, giving you the chance to take the lead.

staff!mingyu who’s all breathless and desperate under you from the moment you take the lead FORREAL and ride him, his hands gripping your hips, trying to guide you even when he’s struggling to keep up. soft, wet sounds filling the room as you roll your hips in slow circles, making him whine. his head tips back, eyes fluttering shut, but you bring a hand to his cheek, making him look up at you.

“tell me,” you murmur, lips brushing just against his ear, “tell me you’re mine, mingyu. that none of these hoes matter.” he looks up, his eyes hazy but still so focused on you, like he’s trying to pour everything into that gaze.

“i’m yours—yours, only yours,” he chokes out, his voice rough and pleading, like he needs you to believe it. he’s babbling now, his grip tightening on you, thumbs pressing into your skin, anchoring himself as you move, each drag pulling another whimper from his lips. “none of them—none of them mean anything,” he gasps, desperate, brows knitted together. “just you. only want you.”

staff!mingyu who’s practically begging at this point, his hands sliding up to your waist, trying to pull you down, closer, as if he could somehow get more of you. “please.” he whispers, his eyes filled with so much want it makes your heart pound.

“you’re mine, mingyu. no one else. got it?” and the way he shudders, that choked, relieved sound he lets out, is everything. he nods frantically, hands gripping you tighter as he starts to lose control, bucking up into you.

staff!mingyu who’s wholly ruined beneath you, lost in every kiss, every whispered word, clutching onto you as if he’s scared you might sneak off, even when you’re right there, telling him over and over again—“all mine.”

[jinwoosbabyboo]

𝙷𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚠/ 𝙷𝚒𝚖

Your first year living with your favorite lads man and you get to spend the holidays together. How I imagine they act during this holiday season. [Requested by: 🌻 Anon]

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕤𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘

He’s the boyfriend who stands behind you and guides your hands in whatever food you’re prepping

Still a workaholic up until Thanksgiving day, but will find time to help you cook

Suggests to make more desserts because he can’t control his sweet tooth

makes your plate for you “Eat well my love”

tries to start his meal with a slice of pie ; you have to take it and make him eat some actual food first “Desserts are for after the meal” “Desserts can be a meal” “No”

tidying up behind you so much that you don’t even get the chance to help clean up

would definitely do a video call with you to his parents to wish them happy holidays

if you take him home to your family your parents would fall in love with him immediately

ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤

wants all the holiday sweets and treats

the type of boyfriend who wants to take you to every bakery so you can eat their limited time only holiday sweets

he brings you hot chocolate with marshmallows and a splash of peppermint while you decorate the house

stands by holding the decorations for you

he would definitely still be working during this time but, he would spend every moment he could with you when he’s home

watches Christmas movies with you until you fall asleep and he carries you to bed

hides your gifts in his office at the hospital if you start getting nosy

all over you when you’re baking Christmas cookies, showering you in kisses, arms constantly wrapped around you and sneaking a cookie here and there when you’re not looking

Cozy morning w/ Christmas breakfast before you exchange gifts

ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕂𝕚𝕤𝕤

Wants to give you that New Years kiss you’ve been talking about

takes you to a secluded rooftop patio where you can see the fireworks and share a kiss “Now we’ll last forever” “There was never a doubt in my mind”

if he’s working he rushes home just to give you that kiss at midnight

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕤𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘

100% a backseat chef while you’re cooking “You should probably turn the heat down” “Can you go paint or something?”

clingy af he would be all in your face while you’re trying to cook “Are you going to help or are you just gonna hang on me like a koala” “I am helping im here for moral support”

gets extremely competitive when your family pulls out any game “Im about to flip the table” “Please don’t”

Eats so elegantly your parents are wondering if you’re dating royalty (which you are)

ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤

Bought the biggest tree he can find “This is going to take weeks to decorate” “You should just stay here for the rest of the month then”

arts and crafts everything for decorations, he’s painting ornaments with you, anything you can find that you want as a decoration believe he will be making it for you/with you

complains about the cold like he hasn't experienced it before as you drag him to go ice skating or sledding “It’s too cold why is the sun out and i'm still freezing” “Maybe because thats how winter works Raf” “I hate it here”

wakes you up early as hell to open gifts, loves literally anything you buy him

Christmas movie nights w/ face masks, popcorn snacks, and matching pajamas

heavy on the matching pajamas, bought 12 pairs for 12 days of Christmas

ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕂𝕚𝕤𝕤

watches the fireworks with you through the studio floor to ceiling windows wrapped in a blanket

doesn’t understand why you want a new years kiss so bad, but he’ll gladly do it of course

sips his champagne and pushes the cold liquid into your mouth as he kisses you now you shared a kiss and a drink right at midnight "I call that a two for one deal" "Stop talking"

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕤𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘

Fighting tooth and nail to keep his ass out the kitchen “Xavier I got it don’t worry” “I can just stir the yams” “No really it’s fine just go relax you had a long day”

You end up letting him slice the turkey and he ends up slicing through the whole damn pan “Why don’t you just set the table….” “Yes ma’am”

not a single leftover because this man ate everything

if you took him home to your family for Thanksgiving your parents are questioning if you starve him “He has a bottomless pit in his stomach” “No I don’t” “Lie again”

ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤

Cold snowy days you two aren’t leaving the bed, he’s curling around you and snoring softly into your boobs

helps you decorate the tree, but asks endless questions “Where do you want this one?” “Just put it anywhere Xav” “Is right here fine?” “Yes right there is fine” “What about this one?” he’s not trying to annoy you he just wants Christmas with you to be perfect

Cookie decorating together, no cooking so it should be safe

late nights ordering in and watching Christmas movies or reading some books that fit the Christmas aesthetic

ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕂𝕚𝕤𝕤

watches fireworks with you from the balcony with warm eggnog topped with cinnamon

be prepared to stay up late after that midnight kiss because he’s not stopping, both sets of lips will get kissed

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕤𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘

Spending thanksgiving with him and the boy was like a mini family of it’s own

Luke and Kieran helped you prep and you made Sylus help as well “I need to slow cook these greens overnight so start removing the leaf from the stem please” “Are you telling me what to do?” “Yes …. I am …. is there a problem?”

Sylus constantly sends the twins and Mephisto back to the store so he has a reason to be alone with you while you’re cooking

constantly brings up how the chef should be doing this, but you insist that the whole point is to cook together "You know you can just send a menu to the chef" "No it's more home-y this way"

ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤

hands you his black card and takes you store to store telling you to have fun "I can buy anything I want?" "Anything"

takes you to a privately owned resort (He owns it) for a holiday Christmas trip, bringing Luke and Kieran along begrudgingly because you ‘didn’t want to leave your boys behind’

all those pictures and videos you sent him of fun stuff to do around the holidays he makes it happen

you wanna go snowboarding? he’s on it. Skiing? done. glass blowing Christmas ornaments? done.

Watches with the softest smile on his face as you and the twins decorate the big ass tree you picked out “Sylus I need you” “What is it Princess?” “Let me sit on your shoulders so I can get these ornaments on top of the tree” rolls his eyes, but puts you on his shoulders anyway

wraps you up in his arms and a blanket while you four have a Christmas movie night; carries you to bed when you fall asleep

watches Christmas musicals with you as well

living room is overflowing with gifts for you because this man bought you everything you’ve mentioned that you wanted for the past 3 months

his face may look annoyed when you drag him around from store to store and activity to activity, but he’s more than happy to do it as long as he’s with you

ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕂𝕚𝕤𝕤

Argues with you until 11:59pm just to piss you off “How does good luck factor into this?” “Im not about to argue with you about this” “Too late sweetie you’ve been arguing with me for the last fifteen minutes” “Because you’re being so difficult do you not want-” he’d shut you up with a kiss right at midnight. “I guess this means we’ll last forever now huh?”

[lethalchiralium]

simon cooks a lot.

only when he’s home with you and the girls, no one else. he’s not a five star chef by any means, but when the food is served, everyone’s bellies are full and warm of food that tastes like home.

he’s happy with his beef stir fry, his mac and cheese (a recipe he only learned to charm you), and his lemon butter chicken and rice. winnie always asks for seconds, mellie doesn’t throw it on the floor for the cat, you always wipe your plate clean.

he doesn’t like how his chicken pot pie comes out, or the shepherd’s pie, or any of the fruit pies he has tried to make for you. you three still demolish them anyway. anything he thinks doesn’t look good or won’t be good in general, his family is still happy to eat because he made it.

he’s proud of providing for his family with more than just money. he’s proud to provide love, security, and bellies full of a home cooked meal. he’s proud of himself for being the husband and father he wanted to be, the man who gives his family his all.

he would never trade his girls’ happiness for anything in the world. maybe for a better chicken pot pie recipe.

[paradiseshop]

ARE WOODEN BOWLS DISHWASHER SAFE?

Most wooden bowls are not dishwasher safe, as the high heat and harsh detergents used in dishwashers can damage the wood and remove its natural oils, causing it to dry out and become brittle. Additionally, wooden bowls are porous and can absorb water, which can cause them to warp or crack over time if they're repeatedly exposed to moisture.

If you do choose to put wooden bowls in the dishwasher, it's important to use a gentle, low-temperature cycle and avoid using harsh detergents or bleach. You should also make sure to thoroughly dry the bowls after washing, as any moisture left behind can promote the growth of bacteria and mold.

However, to extend the lifespan of your wooden bowls, it's usually best to hand-wash them using a mild soap and warm water, and to dry them immediately with a soft cloth or paper towel. This will help to keep them looking their best and prevent any damage caused by the heat and detergents used in dishwashers.

you can visit this website to see several models of very interesting kitchen plates in olive wood: www.sokrashop.com

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[avianyuh]

Kim Mingyu as a boyfriend...

I feel like people naturally gravitate towards Mingyu

And that's for many different reasons

He's always given off the impression that he's a kind person

The way he treats his members (basically his brothers at this point)

The way other people act around him

Idk I've just always gotten the impression that what you see on camera is most likely what Mingyu is like off camera

He's just a real dude living that "idol" life

So anyways...

What would it be like to date Mingyu?

Well first off all, I think he'd make you laugh

A. Lot.

A literal ray of sunshine

Mingyu is an extrovert

Extroverts get a lot of their energy from being around other people

I'd see him acting all happy, trying to wake you up in the morning

Kissing your face all over, whispering, "Wake up."

Of course with that infamous smile on his face

Or picture going out to eat with him.

Sitting at the table, picking food off of each other's plates, just talking about your day

Or going to different things together, like parties

And he's navigating through the crowd, holding your hand tightly in his own, never letting go of it

Oh, imagine the hugs he'd give?

He's so tall so it'd feel like you're being enveloped into his warm, *muscular*, embrace.

You'd probably meet Wonwoo first considering the fact that they live together

I see Mingyu as the type to really help you out when it comes to social situations

If you were a little shy around his members when you first met them, he would always be by your side, making jokes and trying to get you to feel comfortable and fit in

Because he cares about you, and he wants you to become as close with his members as he is

Another trait of Mingyu's is that he gets flustered when he gets complimented

He appears to be a really confident person, but I do think that deep down, praise is something he might not necessarily e used to hearing

Like don't get me wrong, I'm sure that he's aware of the fact that he's a hot man...

But even the hotties have their days where they need some encouragement

So when you compliment his hair, or his outfit

You can see how his cheeks turn red and he starts to nervously laugh

"What? Mingyu I think you should wear that color more often!" you'd laugh as you watched Mingyu cover his face, peeping in the mirror in front of him to see if you were telling the truth.

As with most of my BF headcanon posts, I'm sure Mingyu would be counting down the days until he felt like the relationship was serious enough to introduce you to his family

And he'd really try to make sure you meshed well with them too, just like with the members

Anyways, back to more of his litlte habits

Mingyu would be the type of boyfriend that would do something stupid just to make you smile or, even better, laugh if you were having a bad day

It legitimately breaks his heart to see you upset

Would have beef with anyone who hurt you

You got in a fight with your friend, but you resolved it? Mingyu tolerates her, but deep down, he hates her now

But he'd never tell you that because he doesn't want to overstep

But if you and that friend ever got in another fight, the minute you'd try to vent to Mingyu he'd blurt out;

"I KNEW THERE WAS A REASON WHY I NEVER LIKED HER!"

And you'd be like: 👀

But speaking of friends...

I think he'd constantly be talking about you

In his friend group

With the other members

He'd become that guy where someone would ask him what he did over the weekend or on his day off and he'd turn the conversation into a 30 minute conversation of why you'd be the best perosn to travel with or something

Remember how I said Mingyu is always there beside you to back you up?

Well, even if you aren't with him, he's always going to hype you up if he mentions you

Another trait of his that comes to mind is his cooking skill

Word on the street is that Mingyu can chef it up

So let's say you don't feel like going out that night

No problem, Mingyu's gonna make you some good home cooking

And he's say something stupid like how the food is "infused with his love."

*Ahem*

If you're a frequent reader, you know what time it is...

Shexy Shtuffffff

GURL

Have you seen those arms?

Yes? Well I'm gonna show you a pic anyways

Just so we have a visual element involved

What's that doja cat song? Where she talks about that wrestling position lmao

omg let me shut up

Okay, for him I see a lot of physical affection

A lot of making out

Kisses would be his version of eye contact

A lot of caressing your face

He's pretty athletic, so I could see him having high stamina

Like, I don't see you being able to retire for the night after one round with him unless he's really tired from work

Would probably be loud in bed

But I don't see him as a risk taker when it comes to stuff like location

So you'd be getting freaky ONLY in the sheets

Or maybe the shower

Here's my thought process:

Maybe if he knows no one's around he'd do you on the couch if you were watching something and he was getting turned on

But I mainly see him as the type to do the foreplay on the couch or in the kitchen

Or maybe if you guys are out somewhere and he's starting to get a little frisky

He'd be he type to rush home just so you could have sex

Um, and if you've seen that man, enjoy and congratulations

_

TAGS: @minvxq *I remembered!*

_

{A/N: Hiiiii. I know it's been a month but the winter season has me DEPRESSED. I had a pretty hectic end to my semester. A lot of work all at once but I'm officially on my winter break now and my brain can finally feel like it has a break ,which means I had the mental clarity to write again. I thought a head canon would be a good way to ease back into writing, so I hope you guys like it. This one was requested so as always, I love you and have a good day/night, mwahhhhh💋}

[thesunloveschips]

Obsessed - Part 3 (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Nesta is even more delusional than Y/n. Azriel finally knows his woman is attracted to him.

Warnings: smutty fantasies, delusional bestie Nesta, Azriel right after a shower, Azriel in ONLY a towel, Azriel's tattoos, delusional Azriel.

Click here for Obsessed (Masterlist)

****

Azriel had no idea what he was thinking when he let Y/n in his apartment. The same place he’d overanalysed to see where all he could fuck her. 

That’s right. 

He wasn’t thinking at all. 

Because he opened the door, saw her, and voila~ she was inside. 

She moved towards the kitchen and began hunting for plates. Azriel simply watched her as she made herself at home and owned the kitchen. 

Yes.

She did. 

Y/n owned the kitchen, the apartment, and she owned him. 

Azriel appreciated the domesticity for a moment before walking towards her to help. He picked out a bottle of wine and the glasses. 

When they finally sat down, a silence washed over. Azriel was getting the feeling that this was not a comfortable silence. “What happened?” 

“I should’ve at least texted you.” So that’s why she was gloomy. 

“Your classes begin tomorrow. You need to study.” He remembered that Y/n took academics seriously. 

“But I kept on remembering you and I promised myself I’d text or call after finishing one topic and then I read more papers and got carried away and now, it’s been three days.” She slowly quietened and started playing with her fork. 

“We’re going to dine and chat.” He deftly served the lasagna for both of them. “There’s nothing wrong here. Nothing weird or awkward. Nothing to worry about.” 

Azriel watched her nod at him hesitantly. She was still worried. 

“How can I convince you that everything is all right between us?” He asked, folding his arms and letting them rest on the table as he leaned forward to look at her closely. 

This woman, this wonderful woman, fretting because she didn’t contact him. She didn’t need to know that he already knew what was going on. That she was so immersed in studying that she did not have any proper meals. 

He also knew that she had rushed off to the supermarket earlier this evening and spent a lot of time in the kitchen. 

What he didn’t know was that all of it was for him. 

That information warmed him in an unexpected manner. 

“Hey.” He rose and reached her. Azriel turned her chair and kneeled before her. “It’s all right.” 

“It’s just, you’re so good to me and. . . I didn’t even call or text and now, you’re still. . . you’re still so good to me.”

Good? 

That wouldn’t do.

He was supposed to be the best for her. 

Good sounded like mediocrity in his own head but the word sounded like an achievement when she said it. 

Was this what she thought about him?

“It’s all right. We’re fine. You’re here. I’m here. We’re okay.” He patted her head gently. 

Azriel stood up, pulled another chair next to her, and readied a bite for her but Y/n shook her head. “I made it for you. You should eat first.”

Something in his head had just short circuited. 

He had just been hit with the realisation that she had cooked for him but to hear her say it was euphoric. 

“You’ll eat after I take a bite?” She nodded instantly so he took a bite. 

It wasn’t made by a chef who considered cooking to be an art for the world to enjoy. 

It was made by someone who wanted to cook only for him and not for the world. 

A taste prepared to be enjoyed within the privacy and security of the people that would comprise his home. 

“Thank you.” His voice was raw and tinged with much more emotion than he’d expected. 

This moment with her, her cooking, and him was simply so overwhelming. 

“You’ve done so well.” Y/n smiled brightly and a part of Azriel felt like he had truly achieved something in life. To make this woman happy and safe. 

This woman, warm as a blanket in early winter mornings, beautiful in the face of her entire life—he wanted his opportunity to cherish her. And he’d take it. He could be patient. 

Azriel did not ever remember doing anything good enough to deserve this woman’s presence in his life. But she was here and he’d keep her by his side. 

They dined sitting next to each other. And Azriel was acutely aware of everything she did. Every time those breasts heaved as she breathed. Those lips with a bit of cheese at the corner. 

He turned to his own plate, nearly scarfing down the meal lest he have another inappropriate thought. But the sight of his own fork reminded him of her mouth around her own fork. 

Y/n would look lovely on her knees and even lovelier with his cock inside that mouth. He’d wrap her perfect hair around his fist and thrust inside her mouth. And then he’d-

“Azriel.” She was sitting right next to him, and the height difference was enough for him to think about leaning in. 

That stupid bit of cheese was still by the corner of her lip and Azriel could nearly see how she’d look after he’d come in her mouth. 

“Are you all right?”

No, he wasn’t. 

He wanted that mouth. 

On his lips, on his chest, on his cock. 

“Yes.” A fucking lie. He was not okay knowing that the woman he was fantasising about was right next to him, eating a meal, thinking that this was just a neighbourly interaction. 

Azriel definitely didn’t have any neighbourly intentions towards Y/n unless you could count wanting to fuck her against her front door as one of those. 

Conversation continued as she told him about her classes, her education so far, and more things he’d already read in her report but with an addition of her own feelings towards them. 

She was not eager to indulge in her private life but she was very proud to talk about Nesta, her best friend since childhood. He heard a few funny moments from her past and bits and pieces about her family. 

At some point, he’d begun speaking. It was not just about being comfortable with her but also about wanting to tell her, and knowing that she would now know something about him. So he told her about his friends, his education, and a few things about his everyday life. 

When it was nearly eleven, he reminded her that she had classes from tomorrow. Azriel could swear he saw disappointment in her eyes as Y/n made a move to leave. 

He really wanted to kiss her. Tell her that she’d cooked really well. That he was thankful for her efforts. 

And instead of escorting her to the door, he wanted to take her to the bedroom where he’d undress her and kiss every inch of her. 

He couldn’t kiss her but there was something else he could do. 

And that’s how Azriel found himself watching baking videos as he retired to bed instead of taking a while to masturbate to his fantasies of Y/n.

****

Y/n was in a good mood after last night’s dinner but she felt guilty for not contacting Azriel. Her neighbour was so nice, so kind. He’d helped her far more than neighbours ever did and she’d just . . . forgotten him while she studied. 

She was well-prepared for her classes, met a few new people, toured the campus library, and returned to her apartment. 

She immediately FaceTimed Nesta. 

“Wait, let me just set this.” Nesta moved to the kitchen in her own shared apartment and placed the phone so that she could cook while they talked. Y/n had already done the same. “Now, before you spill, I have some news. Remember your ex?”

“Very difficult to forget his impact in my life.”

“Lots of trauma and insecurity, I know.” Nesta knew how condescending that creature had been to Y/n, always belittling her whenever she did something or was about to do something herself. And then he’d be a little hypocrite by saying that he’d support her choices while also routinely telling her to stop using her brain. “He got roped into a case of tax fraud and he got fired but he’s still a party to the case.”

Y/n remained silent but her wide eyes were enough for Nesta to understand that she’d been shocked. Nesta waited in front of the screen patiently. “Well. . . fuck him.”

“That’s my girl!” Nesta cheered. “Also, there’s a rumour floating among the alumni that he made some powerful enemies so he’s laying low or he’s underground or on the run or whatever terminology they use for people like that but since this guy is the worthless lowlife that hurt you, I’d prefer to say he’s in the sewer.”

“Hopefully, he’ll drown in the sewage.”

“Moving on, quite literally, to better things in life. Exhibit A: your hot neighbour. Have you fucked?”

“No. And I don’t think we will.” She had a good talk with him last night, absorbing his every word like a sponge but she couldn’t help but feel that he was not attracted to her in the way she was towards him. 

“Why not? He’s hot. You’re hot. It only makes sense that you two fuck.” 

Y/n looked at the screen, unimpressed. “I think he sees me as a sister.”

“Then go! Do incest! What are you waiting for?” Nesta waved her hands.

“We’re not related.” 

“Then do the step-sibling incest thing. We’ve already watched My Fault. It’s bound to be hot.” Nesta deadpanned. 

My Fault was a hot, forbidden romance. Now, that was another fantasy. 

“Wait. Why do you think he sees you as a sister?” Nesta came to the screen and started eating an apple. 

“Because he patted my head last night.” Y/n sighed. “It felt very sibling-like.” She began peeling the onions. 

“What happened last night?” Nesta was now curious. 

“I forgot to contact him for three days so I made lasagna as an apology.”

“Wait a fucking second.” Here we go. “You have that hot furnace as your neighbour and you forgot him?” Nesta sounded very much offended on Azriel’s behalf. “Are you drugged or something?” She opened a container and closed it. She kept it back and took out another container.

“We enjoyed dinner and dessert and conversations but I almost cried before we started.”

“Darling, men have to be dealt with very tactfully.” Nesta placed a bowl in front of her phone and began peeling potatoes. “If they see your emotional baggage, it’ll only be a big turn-off even when you only want a fling. For example, in my gym, there’s a trainor-”

“You joined a gym?” Y/n interrupted. “Why am I hearing about this now?”

“I have too much free time now that you’re not here so I joined a gym.” Nesta glared at Y/n and the latter kept quiet. “There’s a hot trainor and I know he wants to fuck me. But what am I doing? I’m doing what every reasonable, prudent woman would do. I’m ignoring him.”

“That’s probably not how you get laid.”

“I’m not trying to get laid. I’m trying to get railed. Understand the difference.” Nesta pointed her knife at the screen. 

“Laid is a romantic thing. Laid is when you lose your virginity. Laid is for sweet love making.” Nesta sounded a little disgusted while explaining ‘laid’ before her tone changed and she began her passionate explanation about what ‘railed’ meant. 

“Railed is for fucking against any surface because you can’t wait. It’s for throwing away your clothes and letting all the lust take over. Touching is for laid, groping is for railed. Do you understand?” Nesta waved her knife and Y/m dutifully nodded. 

“Maintain enough distance to let the sexual tension brew like a stew. But not too much distance to make him uninterested. And then soon, Cassian will fuck me like his life depends on it.” Nesta sounded gleeful as she revealed her plan. 

Y/n knew that Nesta was only going to fuck this trainor because she never did serious relationships. Y/n had been in one serious relationship which blew up on her face. And since then, it was unbearable to think of going for romance. “Cassian is your trainor’s name?”

“Nice name to moan, don’t you think?”

“Does he know you think that?” She began cutting the onions. Y/n thought that name sounded familiar. 

“Absolutely not. It’s only been two days. I’ll take some time. He’s already looking when I’m stretching and so now, I’ll do some specific warm ups that’ll make him realise that I’m a very, very flexible woman.”

“You bitch.” Y/n laughed as she stirred the vegetables. 

“I’m going to make him beg.” Nesta grinned evilly. “Enough about him. How do we get you to commit incest?”

“Did I tell you he’s older?”

“How old?”

“He’ll turn twenty nine in a few days.”

“You just turned twenty four. Oh, he’ll love it when you call him daddy.” Nesta smirked.

“I think I want to call him sir.” Y/n laughed. 

“Wait. That’s a good idea.”

“What?”

“Grocery shopping. All right? Show some cleavage. Stand next to him. Look up at him with the most innocent look. Okay? So innocent and holy that he should think you’re on the list of innocent people right after Jesus. And then say, ‘yes, sir’. Imagine the sex. He won’t even wait to take you to the bedroom.”

“I’m not really sure.” Y/n was hesitant. What if she ruined whatever friendship she had with him? 

The doorbell rang once. “Wait a sec. Nes, I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Y/n washed her hands quickly, wiped them on a towel, and went to answer the door. 

Azriel stood there, looking mindnumbingly sexy in a shirt with the first couple of buttons not. . . his chest. . .  tattoos and. .  . Y/n took a step back and nearly fell. 

Azriel’s arm snaked around her waist as he easily caught her and helped her stand up. 

“I received your parcel by mistake.” He whispered near her ear. 

“Thank you.” She probably squeaked. His hand was still on her waist and her eyes were shut tightly. 

“Y/n?” His voice was too deep, too dark, too bedroom-like. “Why are you hot?” 

“What?” Her voice was a mere whisper. 

“Open your eyes, Y/n.” Why was this man saying her name so much? “You feel feverish.” At some point, the back of his hand was pressed against her forehead. 

“I’m not. I’m fine.” She hurriedly explained. “Thank you for the parcel.” 

Azriel smiled beautifully at her. “I’ll see you around.” 

His hands left her waist and he reached his own door. Y/n watched as he entered his apartment, waved at her before closing the door. 

She closed her own door and ran to the kitchen to tell Nesta all about it.

**** 

When Y/n had been exploring during her first day of classes, Azriel easily infiltrated her house (he had a spare key, what do you think he bought the building for?) and set a few bugs to help him eavesdrop. 

Was it a coincidence that he made his appearance while Y/n was on a video call with her best friend, discussing and debating about fucking him?  

Absolutely not. 

He knew that Y/n didn’t like wearing her airpods unless it was necessary so her video calls were always  on speaker phone. He’d heard every bit of what both women said. 

The only thing that was a coincidence was that he was just about to ring the doorbell when the delivery man had appeared. He signed her parcel, claiming to be her boyfriend (which he would be) and when the delivery boy had left, he finally proceeded. 

Now that he knew for a fact that she was sexually attracted to him, he had to only seduce her. To coax her desires before revealing that he was always ready to fuck her. 

As for how he’d marry her, that was a little further away but he was confident now. 

If she ever called him sir, he knew he’d crack and explode. Y/n wouldn’t even have to do much and he’d fuck her ever so thoroughly. 

So he waited. 

He got his work done. A few meetings. Calls. Learned how to bake. 

He did get his chance to talk to her or go grocery shopping with her but she did not call him sir. 

The electricity was beginning to crackle between them when he spotted her looking at his forearms often. He’d wear henleys, roll up his sleeves, and watch as she drooled over while pretending he didn’t realise. 

How adorable was she as she checked him out not so discreetly. 

And how adorable would she be, begging and crying for him to stop. 

****

Azriel had finally perfected baking a cheesecake and it was kept for cooling. A few more hours and he could bring it over to Y/n. 

The doorbell rang and Azriel cursed. If there was someone other than Y/n on the other side, he’d throw them down the stairs. 

This was a bit inconvenient since he’d just finished showering. He draped a towel around his hips and took another one to begin with his hair as he headed for the door.

It seemed that there would be no deaths since Y/n was waiting for him. But the moment she saw him, her eyes widened and she looked like she’d seen a ghost. 

Why?

She looked damn good in that grey sweater and black jeans. Winter fashion suited Y/n. Sweaters were gentle on her curves, her legs were. . . 

Yes. 

Those were the legs he wanted around his waist. Minus the jeans, of course. 

She looked so fucking good but there was only one problem when she went out with him.

He couldn’t show her off as his wife.

As stated in the previous chapter, a lot of things would be sorted if he married Y/n. 

Azriel was ready to brood now that the reality of not being married to her slapped him. 

But then why was she so shocked when she was the one who looked like she was out to seduce him by existing? 

Oh.

He was in a towel.

And with his chest on display. 

He remembered that tattoos were an attraction for women and he had loads of them. On his fingers, hands, arms and chest. 

Was she attracted?

“Y/n?” He let the towel for his hair hang around his neck. 

“Huh?” She then looked at his face because she’d been staring at his chest for so long. 

How cute. 

She was attracted.

Did she know that all this was hers? 

This chest. These hands. These legs. And this cock. 

Everything was hers. 

Honestly speaking, he’d fuck her if she asked. 

“Come in.” He opened the door wider.

“You have tattoos.” She still seemed to be in a daze. 

He really had to put in effort to not smirk at her flustered state. 

Would she like the tattoos under the towel?

“Yes, I have tattoos. Come inside, Y/n.” He gently ushered her in before realising that he just brought in his woman inside the apartment. His woman who was definitely attracted to him and even more so, more that she’d seen him half naked. 

“Yeah. Um. . I was going to buy vegetables. Just wanted to see if you’d like to come with me or if you wanted me to get something.” She was looking at the wall now. 

What was this woman even thinking? 

That he’d ever refuse her? 

Hah! What nonsense.

Why was he even here in this country, in this apartment, if not for her?

Azriel walked over, tilted her chin with a hand, and met her gaze looking as oblivious as he could. “Is there a reason why you’re not looking at me?” 

Fuck it. He wanted her to look at her. What did he even look this good for if she was not looking at him?

“I thought. . Maybe you’d be uncomfortable if I looked at you. Some people don’t. . they don’t like that and I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable because of me.” 

“You have my permission to look.” To touch. To kiss. To suck. To fuck. She had all permissions since day one. 

“Vegetables?” She averted her gaze. 

Azriel restrained the urge to smirk. 

“Give me ten minutes.” He returned to his room, dried himself, dressed up, and returned to Y/n.

“Ready?” He asked as he wrote his watch. 

“You haven’t dried your hair.” 

“I used the towel.”

“It’s evening, Az. You’ll catch a cold. Where’s your hair dryer?” There it was. There was the confident Y/n.

“Don’t have one.” He lied so easily. He wanted to see what she’d do. 

She marched over to the door and opened it. “Well. Come on. Lock up. You’re using my hair dryer. Only then will you come with me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned. Azriel loved it when she bossed him around. This side of her rarely revealed itself. 

Y/n froze and then turned away to unlock her door. And Azriel did as he’d been told.

****

Has anyone seen Azriel half naked? Ever? 

In a towel? Bare chested? 

Droplets on that golden skin? 

Tattoos? Fucking tattoos? 

Wet hair? 

The wet dream? 

How in fuck had she not fainted? 

And why did she think she was being sensible by inviting him to her apartment? 

To dry his hair?

Well, he did need his hair to be dried to avoid a cold. 

She could keep telling herself that. 

And what the fuck was that chin raising movement he did? 

In that instant, she could think of nothing but his she wanted to be laid down on the wooden coffee table and fucked like they were all that mattered. 

A towel. 

A towel. 

A towel with a tattoo that it partially concealed. 

He had a tattoo there. 

She wanted to see that tattoo. 

And his cock. 

She wanted to kneel before him.

Did anybody in the entire godsfucking universe bothered to take pity on her sanity and tell her that this man was not just sexy but fictional sexy? 

No. 

Her sanity had evaporated at some point.

Because her knees were already weakening as soon as she laid eyes on him. 

And he’d raised her chin looking like a sex god from a dark romance novel. 

Y/n needed to kneel and bend and spread for him all at once. 

Y/n: Save me. 

Nesta: What happened?

Y/n: I saw him shirtless. In a towel. Only a towel. My sanity is deceased. And I’m so fucking horny. 

Nesta: Send pics ;)

Y/n: He has tattoos all over. I saw one of them which was partially covered by that  towel. It’s down there.  

Nesta: Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Y/n: He has a back.

Nesta: Everyone has a back.

Y/n: Wide shouldered, golden, tattooed back, with droplets. 

Nesta: Oh. Ohhhhhh. Ohhooohhoooooooo. You lucky bitch, you’re going to get railed. Scratch that back. Mark him well.

Y/n pocketed her phone before she got too delusional and brought the hairdryer. Azriel was sitting on her bed as instructed. She connected the appliance to the plug and gave it to him. 

He looked at her coyly with a stupid smirk before she sighed. “Fine.” 

Y/n switched on the dryer and dried his hair. She combed through with her fingers and Azriel looked more than happy to simply sit there. 

“You should do this if you’re going to wash your hair after lunchtime.” She wanted to sound stern but Y/n was busy thinking about grabbing his hair in other situations. 

“Uh huh.” He grinned at her like a cat. Y/n set the dryer down and fluffed down his hair herself. 

“All done.” 

He stood up and checked himself in the mirror. “Thank you, sweetheart. Now shall we get some vegetables?”

Y/n would have a heart attack at any time soon. She quickly texted Nesta, followed after him, locked the door and they left for shopping. 

Instead of heading towards the sidewalk, Azriel headed towards the line of cars parked on the side of the road. 

“Where are you going?” Y/n followed. She did not like how this man with his height and long legs just took two steps while she had to take four. She’d never really noticed before since he adjusted his pace to walk by her side. 

“My car is here. I had it sent over.” He then looked at her just before he opened the door to the driver’s seat. “Do you drive?”

“Yes?” 

“Do you want to drive?”

“It’s your car. I’m sure you don’t want a scratch.”

“I trust you.” He walked over and handed the keys to her. “You have a valid licence, right?”

“Azriel, you have to ask about the licence before you give someone your car keys.”

“But you said you drive.” This man had the audacity to look like a scolded child when, not more than twenty minutes ago, he looked like he could throw her around and fuck her all day, every day. 

At this point, Y/n needed an exorcism to help with her uncontrollable number of fantasies. 

The car was also huge enough to be fucked against. And she could bend over against the bonnet while he took her from behind but it was too cold at night for pants to be removed. 

“Y/n?” Azriel appeared in front of her like his existence hadn’t resulted in an unexpected number of filthy delusions that made her panic in his presence. “Ready to leave?”

“All right.”

And they entered the car. When they were settled and she started, Azriel began. “And if you want to go somewhere far just for the quiet, we can go now that we have a car.” 

“You love this car, don’t you?”

And Azriel went on a rant about how he’d purchased this one because of all that he fell in love with in this particular model. By the time he finished, they were already parked near the supermarket. 

Y/n removed her seatbelt and tapped his arm. “We’ve reached.” She smiled at him.

It was nice and fluffy to simply go on a drive and listen to him. 

****

It was so nice to just sit in the car. Azriel loved driving but he recently discovered he also loved sitting. And now that he was following Y/n with the shopping trolley, he felt even better. 

And all Azriel wanted to do was to embrace her from behind, kiss her cheek, and laugh with her at something stupid. 

It was simple and pleasant. To follow her with a trolley, to watch her frown at two containers of mayonnaise, to listen to her complain about how they should have separate section for panty liners and pads instead of putting them with baby diapers. 

She was a bossy woman, a side that revealed itself when they went grocery shopping. 

Gods, he wanted her to order him. To ride him and take charge. 

His grip on the trolley tightened. 

And just when he was beginning to control his thoughts, he saw the fire exit. The washrooms were built there. Nobody would see but he could simply hoist her away and fuck her there. 

The thrill of being in a public place did something else to him. 

He looked at Y/n and saw her waving at him with a container of something in her hand. He walked over to her and gave his suggestion on the chocolate spread. 

The only thing he hated in this routine of grocery shopping was when it ended and they went their separate ways. She’d go to her apartment and he’d go to his. And he hated that. He hated returning to a place where she wasn’t.

And for the first time, Azriel was not alone. He was lonely in the silence. 

****

Y/n knew she’d begun caring for her neighbour despite her attraction to him. That she’d started getting used to his presence in her life. 

It was only supposed to be sexual attraction but as hot as he was, he was also good to her. He cared for her and his every action proved it. 

She liked him.

She liked him. 

Oh god. 

She actually liked Azriel. 

Which sane woman wouldn’t? 

She didn’t care about other women. Other women could go drown in the sewer. 

What about her? 

This man was only supposed to be a one-time encounter from that club they went to for Feyre’s birthday party. 

And then he was at the airport. 

In the flight. In the same building. 

And now he was a part of her life.

And during that dinner when she'd brought him lasagna, when he asked her that question so seriously. “How can I convince you that everything is all right between us?”

Y/n had melted.

She looked at the apartment. This was just for a semester but Y/n loved this space solely because Azriel was next door. 

And at some point, she’d begun wishing he was here. 

She called Nesta and when her friend picked up the phone, she began crying. “I like him.” 

****

Taglist:

@fantanbietsson @angstylittleb1tch @fhgsvbnh @olive-main @cherryjain17 @halo-mystic @starofanotherworld @latinxbipride @viatorem-maris @acotarbestie @sevikas-whore @anthonys-viscountess @randomgurl2326 @thelov3lybookworm @cat-or-kitten

[diejager]

if you’re still writing for the monster 141, what about a bay hybrid reader, who is just on the edges on going into hibernation because the base is in a colder area/remote snowy location

I’m gonna assume you mean bear?

Cw: bear hybrid!readr, hibernation, binge eating, hoarding, tell me if I missed any.

Winter was creeping closer and closer by each day, your instinctual need to sleep away the cold calling to you louder than the prior days. There was a bone-deep exhaustion that clung to you, the heaviness that cold weather brought to you was a constant and nagging feeling that urged you deeper in the nest you’d built yourself in your dark room. Your curtains drawn, lights often closed and locks installed, you’d spent the weeks preparing, hoarding soft pillows, thick blankets and clothes from people you were familiar with. 

They were surprised when you brought it up, blinking tiredly and occasionally yawning in the afternoon, stumbling between everyone’s rooms with a small plea on the tip of your tongue. You took whatever they were willing to give you: a blanket from Price and Rudolfo, a shirt from König and Gaz, a jacket from Ghost and Horangi, and a pillow from Soap and Alejandro. As long as it smelled like them, a lingering reminder that you weren’t alone in your humid room, their musk grounding and safety. You wouldn’t be alone.

Price had known you were - like most bears - prone to hibernation, taking between one to three month of your year sleeping away the cold, sinking into your mountain of fabric and sleeping off the coldest months. Your time depended on the year, the warmer it was, the less you slept, and the colder it was, the longer you slept. It might’ve been a bother in people’s eyes - humans - but it was instinctual, a primal part of your brain that still clung to your ancestors who strayed from the path of being normal bears. You couldn’t ignore the pull, the call to sleep, it wasn’t possible for a bear like you, and you were fortunate to have such accommodating teammates.

You grew hungrier, your stomach becoming an endless pit, an abyss that kept taking dish after dish, stocking up in fat and calories that you’d burn during your sleep, keeping you sustained and alive without having to wake up. You ate whatever you that was within your reach, the cold bread, the warm milk, the leftover of two days ago or Soap’s surprisingly good cooking, nothing was safe when you were a big and grumpy and hungry bear near hibernation. Ever supportive and helpful, Soap and Alejandro would jump in to cook for you, hooking Gaz and Rudolfo into being their sous-chef whenever they were free. It was the delicious scent of home cooked and warm meals that brought you to the kitchen, if it wasn’t a call for fixing up someone, it was the smell of good food. 

You were ravenous, gulping down the many, many plates the duo - occasionally quartet - placed on the table, their chests puffed up pridefully at your quick eating, you were practically breathing them in. Your constant eating helped you pack some weight, your skin stretched to accommodate your growing amount of fat that would ultimately burn over the months. And when the day came, you were low on energy, grumpy and easy to anger, your patience running paper thin, bidding your goodbyes and see you soon, wrapping your arms around them and teasing them about missing you during your lockdown. 

You’d sleep through the cold winter months and wake up to a warmer and busier time, to a welcoming and excited team that had spent the better half of winter waiting impatiently for the TF’s medic to wake up.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[ozzgin]

Ozz, it’s like 3am for me and I’m sick, but I was reading through the restaurant things and i was like hmm restaurants have chefs, and they have yanderes, so there are yandere chefs, but what if they only wanted to cook for their darling. and I had a further thought see I’m a picky eater, so like.. what if their darling what was a picky eater? Fancy executive chef yandere x “onions are gross and disgusting and deserve the pits of hell” darling? Idk I’m tired

I approve of your idea 1000%

Yan!Chef who is known for his exquisite dishes and downright vile attitude. He owns a chain of Michelin star restaurants which are famous for their bold, experimental and ever-changing menus.

Not many dare to work under his disciplined gaze and swift, ruthless critique.

“Get this vile concoction out of my sight”, he’ll say with a disgusted grimace, flipping over the plate.

Large porcelain shards reach the feet of a young woman, quietly sobbing and gripping onto her apron.

“My apologies, I thought-”

“You don’t come here to think, you come here to cook. And you’ve just proven you can’t do either.”

He stands up with a huff and marches out, as the other employees scramble to the floor to deal with the mess.

Yan!Chef who arrives home and greets you with a smile, announcing that he’s brought you your favorite dinner: frozen dino nuggets.

“This is some good stuff”, you mumble with a full mouth. “But it’s missing something…”

He chuckles at your stuffed cheeks and opens the fridge.

“Could it be this, dearest (Y/N)?” he remarks theatrically, placing a bottle of ketchup before you.

“Yes! I knew you’d get it.”

“Why, naturally. What’s the point of being the world’s greatest chef if I can’t even guess your taste?”

[ennabear]

ENNABEARRR! DROP ANOTHER MEAN!ABBY DRABBLE AND MY LIFE IS YOURS! (pretty please i luv your writing 🤍)

ʕง•ᴥ•ʔง HEHEHEHE HAIII SWEET NONNIE!!!!! cmere lemme smooch you real sloppy MMWWWAAAHHH. love love love u, here’s mean!abby when you’re on your period…

it would start with her in the middle of her workout at the gym. she feels her phone buzz in her pocket so she pulls it out to glance at it, seeing a message notification from you but deciding she’s too busy read it. so she shoves it back into her pocket and ignores it.

you stare at your phone screen frustratedly, hormones running wild, the dull cramps in your stomach only adding to your dismay. every text you sent was met with a small gray delivered under it. why the hell is she ignoring you?

after a few minutes of groaning into your pillow and squeezing your teddy bear in agony, you decide to fuck it all and call her, something that was reserved only for the most extreme emergencies. as expected, she picks up on the fourth ring with an annoyed “is it an emergency?”

“YES, abby!! why haven’t you answered my texts?” you yell. your hips feel like they’re being viciously yanked apart, tits so sore you yelp at the feeling of your t-shirt brushing against them, and you’re almost certain there’s a giant bloodstain under you.

“what’s wrong?” she asks, panicking and throwing all of her gym equipment into her bag. “do you need me to come home?” and she doesn’t wait for a response to this, she’s already throwing her gym bag into her car and speeding off.

“everything hurts.” you moan, voice cracking as tears start to spill involuntarily from your eyes. “my back and my stomach and my hips and my tits and—” you get cut off by your own sobbing, feeling completely paralyzed as you lay alone and cold. abby is a fucking savior right now, assuring you she’s on her way and she’ll do anything in her power to make sure you’re comfortable once she gets home.

it takes a surprisingly short time for her to get back to your apartment, being greeted by two hungry kittens meowing up at her with their huge eyes. she almost steps right on them as they trail right in front of her feet, perking their tails up and nuzzling against her legs.

finally, she stumbles into the bedroom, finding you curled up under a few different blankets with your head stuffed in her pillow. “baby?” she asks, her voice soothing you momentarily but unfortunately not enough to stop the assault on your emotions right now.

you attempt to turn over and face her, but a sharp pain causes you squirm and roll back into your comfortable nest. two strong arms wrap themselves around you, scooping you up and hauling you to the bathroom. “the sheets, abby.” you moan. she ignores this, peeling off your clothes while she waits for the shower to heat up.

“i’ll be right back,” she whispers. “holler if you need anything.” and you’re left alone to shower by yourself, the hot, steaming water relaxing your muscles and providing the sweetest relief. abby gathers she sheets, scrubbing the small stain with cold water and throwing them into the wash with a douse of stain remover.

abby isn’t a great chef, but she’ll do anything for her baby while she’s in pain. after dumping a few scoops of kibble into each of the girls’ bowls, she grabs a box of pancake mix and gets to work. it takes a few tries for her to make one that’s actually presentable, hands shaking as she tries to maneuver the half cooked batter onto the spatula, but she eventually gets the hang of it. she slides the ugly, torn up pancakes onto her own plate, saving the pretty ones for you, of course.

you tug on one of abby’s torn up t-shirts and a pair of soft sweatpants, tiptoeing out of the bedroom and slumping down on the couch. abby approaches you with a plate full of golden pancakes drowning in syrup, and you notice for the first time how hungry you are. “here, you can pop some pills after you eat.”

“i didn’t know you were a chef.” you giggle, placing a weak kiss on her cheek as a thank you. she rolls her eyes, “yeah, yeah. don’t flatter me.” the two of you eat in almost silence. abby turned on some stupid docuseries she’s been watching. in your opinion, it’s boring as hell, but you’ll watch it as long as she’s happy.

both of the cats curl up on her lap once you’re done. of course she’s their favorite, you curse mentally. abby pulls you closer, wrapping a warm blanket around you and drooping her head on top of yours. “sorry i wasn’t there this morning.” she whispers. “you should’ve called me sooner, though.”

you laugh drowsily, ready to get some quality sleep now that you’re finally comfortable. “you’re a dick sometimes, i love you.”

[oracle-of-dream]

Frame by Frame

Minors DNI

Summary: Your brother Jay invited his friend Sunghoon over to spend the night at the house. The three of you had mostly grown up together, so you knew him pretty well. Something's off with him... he keeps looking at you.

Warnings: Male Reader, Muscle Kink, Rough Sex, Brother's Best friend, Breeding, Spit play, Pet names (Baby), Soft Dom Sunghoon, Sunghoon has a big dick, Aftercare, Jaywon (briefly)

Wordcount: 3.5k

You woke up from a midday nap to the smell of food being cooked downstairs. The Sun was still shining into your window, but you could tell it was the afternoon by its dark orange color.

Climbing out of bed, you remembered your parents said they'd be out of town for the week. Probably because it was spring break for you, and they didn't want to be around when both their kids would be home again. They were way too happy to send you and your brother off to college...

You put on some sort of t-shirt before leaving your room to investigate the kitchen. There were two voices; one was Jay, your brother. The other was Sunghoon, his best friend since you were five years old. Sunghoon and Jay went everywhere together. To the movies, the gym, cafes, and even the same college too. It really felt like they were dating each other with how much Sunghoon was around, even if your parents treated him like another kid.

Stepping into the kitchen, you saw Sunghoon in a sleeveless red shirt with gray sweatpants. Jay was wearing something similar in green and black. They probably just came back from the gym. Jay had shouted something about it before you'd fallen asleep.

"It smells good. What's on the menu today, chef?" You smiled at your brother the way you did when you needed something from him.

"If you do the dishes after dinner, then it's a tomato bruschetta with salmon," Jay replied without looking up at you.

"What!? Why do I have to do the dishes?"

"You want to eat the food I'm working hard to make, then you have to contribute."

You rolled your eyes. "You hate the way I wash the dishes, you always say it's not done right and end up doing them anyway–and what about Sunghoon? He's eating too, so he has to do the dishes!"

Sunghoon was about to protest but Jay beat him to it. "Fine. Both of you start washing these dishes. If it's not clean by the time I'm done, then the dog is eating really well tonight."

Sunghoon didn't bother arguing. "I wash, you dry?" He asked while handing you a clean rag.

Your stomach was too empty to think of a good argument about why Sunghoon was the person who should do everything. "Fine," You snatched the rag from him and lifted yourself onto the counter to sit. For the next ten minutes, you dried the dishes as he handed them to you. Your mind wandered, thinking about how hungry you were. You looked over at Sunghoon washing the dishes, his huge biceps flexing as he worked over every dish. He'd been going to the gym as much as Jay, but he always had a better shape than him. His arms were incredible, his shoulders also pretty broad, and his side profile wasn't half bad either... He definitely wasn't the kid you'd grown up with anymore.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Sunghoon's eyes looking over at you, catching you staring at him.

"Y/n, you alright?"

"Y–Yeah, just still a little drowsy..."

Jay finished making the food and started planting the table. "Did you really sleep all day, y/n?"

"How'd you guess?"

"Those are the same pajamas you've been wearing for the past two days..." He dryly replied.

"Well–What did you do today, Jay?"

"I cleaned the house, got groceries, picked up Sunghoon, and then we went to the gym. Then we came back here and I cooked for the entire house."

"Three people, but okay... that's supposed to be a break and you're working like a house husband!"

Jay picked up the plate sitting at your place at the table. "So, that's a no to the food?"

"Okay–Let's not get out of hand. You started it."

"That's what I thought," Jay set your plate down and returned to his seat. He waited for you and Sunghoon to finish the dishes and join him. Dinner was pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausages, with a bowl of fruit. Jay knew you loved breakfast for dinner, and it was all prepared and set to perfection.

You all eat together, not talking very much as you focus on the food. Sunghoon was wolfing the food down like usual, making a mess.

"Hey, you're going to get food on the floor!" You pushed him slightly, "I'm not cleaning the floor if you make a mess."

He replied with a mouth full of food, "Relax, Mom!" Sunghoon has egg on his face and crumbs on his shirt.

You pinched the egg off his face and tossed it to the dog to eat. But when you looked back at Sunghoon, he was staring at you.

"What? Were you gonna eat that?" You asked.

He shook his head, "No, it's nothing."

The air hung heavy between you. Sunghoon has been acting like that sometimes around you, creating some sort of tension between you. But you couldn't think of what you could've done to make him bothered by you. He was fine earlier...

Jay cut through the silence. "Well. Sunghoon, are you still staying the night?"

Sunghoon nodded. More invested in the food now, even though his plate was almost empty.

Jay turned to you, "Y/n, you doing anything tonight? We can all hang out if you want."

You shrugged. "I don't think I've got anything for me. So I'll be around."

The three of you continued dinner without much extra conversation. You went back to your room, Jay started washing the dishes from dinner, and Sunghoon stayed in the kitchen to talk to Jay.

You watched some TikToks in your room until you got a text from Sunghoon.

SH: Hey...

You sat up in bed so you could give it more attention. Why would he put the ... in there?

YN: What's up?

SH: I hope I didn't make you upset earlier. About the dishes. You were kinda giving me daggers, so I just wanted to make sure we're cool.

YN: Of course! I didn't mean to look upset, I was just thinking.

SH: What, about?

YN: Random stuff, I can't even really remember it now...

You knew you couldn't just say, "Oh I was thinking about how good you've been looking these days. Great gains, bro!" You needed to play it cool.

SH: Oh, okay. Can I get your thoughts on something?

Your heart raced, just for a moment.

YN: What is it?

SH: What do you think about this, hot or not? Jay says not.

You stared at the picture of Sunghoon in the gym's locker room. You tried not to laugh at his expression.

YN: I think you could work on your expression. Try smiling or something. Most guys just focus on showing their body rather than their face at the gym anyway.

There was a pause in the messages. Sunghoon didn't reply for a full five minutes...

SH: What about these?

YN: Sunghoon, why do you need me to tell you if you look good? You've always been the most handsome out of you, me, and Jay.

SH: Well, Jay won't even look at them. But it's good to know you think I'm good-looking.

You blushed and scoffed at your phone... You couldn't tell if he knew what he was doing to you. Your body was going crazy.

YN: Well, whatever. I think the photos are all fine.

SH: Last one.

You braced yourself for another sleeveless selfie, but what you got was way better.

You almost dropped your phone when you saw him shirtless. He was absolutely doing it on purpose. Making sure not to actually show you anything, just some collarbone.

SH: Thoughts?

YN: Yep, still looks good.

SH: Well, you can send me photos too. Let me rate you.

You caught a look of yourself in the reflection of your phone. You looked more than a little rough.

YN: Um, I don't really have photos...

SH: Then should we fix that? I can take some photos for you.

YN: Why do I need pictures?

SH: ...I dunno. It just felt fair, since I forced you to look at me. I should look at you too.

You thought about sending Sunghoon photos of yourself. What kind of photos would he even want?

YN: What kinda photos are we talking about?

SH: Anything, I'm just here to help. Just like you did for me.

You spent almost twenty minutes trying to find a photo that seemed decent enough to send. Changing your outfit, messing with your hair, cleaning your room a little bit. You settled on a candid photo of you reading a book in some loose-fitting clothes. Your shirt was almost falling off your shoulders, and your shorts barely peeked out to show you were wearing any. You sent it to Sunghoon and waited anxiously for his response.

SH: Looks good.

You frowned at his response. You really look all the time just to get that kind of response from him... You tossed your phone away from you and went to the living room to find Jay and Sunghoon. Both were sitting on the couch, using their phones. But as soon as you walked in, Sunghoon tucked his phone.

"I'm gonna hit the bathroom really quick." He said as he brushed past you.

Jay didn't acknowledge it, but you sure did. Sunghoon was acting weird again.

"Jay, have you noticed anything about Sunghoon lately?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Same old Sunghoon."

You scoffed at your brother. "Since when have you been so uncaring?"

"And since when did you care so much?" Jay raised an eyebrow as he looked up from his phone.

"Never!" You turned and stormed off from Jay. Clearly, he wasn't going to be helpful, so you needed to get to the bottom of things yourself. As soon as you got into the hallway of the bathroom, you could see the light was on, but the door was barely open. The bathroom door got messed up when Jay closed the door too hard, making it difficult to keep the door shut. A small push could open it. But Sunghoon didn't know that. You moved forward to pull it closed, but then heard Sunghoon breathing heavily.

You leaned closer to the door to listen.

"...Jeez. You're so beautiful. Y/n, holy fuck." Sunghoon softly moaned.

You moved to peek through the crack. Sunghoon was jerking himself to something on his phone, moaning your name. You didn't realize you were holding your breath watching him. His hand stroked quickly, his hair bounced lightly, and his mouth hung open with his eyes squeezed shut. His thick arms pulsed, and his veins popped. His legs shook and shifted in pleasure. You inched closer to get a better look at Sunghoon's phone, but accidentally touched the door which creaked slightly and scared Sunghoon.

"Y–Y/N! I–" Sunghoon scrambled to cover himself but he dropped his phone while doing it. His phone landed face up, showing what he was masturbating to; the photo of yourself you'd sent earlier...

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to walk here..." You said as you turned around and shut the door.

There was shuffling, and then the door opened. Sunghoon's face was wracked with guilt. "Y/n, I'm sorry. I..." His voice trailed off, not knowing what to say.

You turned to him. "Be honest."

He gulped before opening his mouth to answer. "I–I'm really into you, y/n. I've been like this for a while... And, I get it if you're not interested in me."

You stepped forward and kissed his cheek, leaving him dumbfounded. "Come to my room tonight. Wait till Jay's asleep." You walked off toward your room without waiting for his response. You couldn't look him in the face after what you'd seen. All you could think about was his dick and the expression he was making, replaying again and again in your mind. You stayed in your room for the rest of the night, and when Jay knocked on your door to check on you, you told Jay that you didn't want to hang out anymore.

Around midnight, the house had fallen asleep except for you. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest when you heard a soft knock at the door.

"Y/n? It's me." Sunghoon whispered through the door.

You opened the door and let Sung Hoon in. You sat down on your bed, and he sat down on the far end of it, awkwardly looking at you in the low light of the moon that dripped in from your window.

"I've already seen it, so you can't be awkward with me now." You stated, trying to start the conversation.

"I know... I just didn't want you to find out like that. It's embarrassing." He scratched his head. "You just looked so good in that picture. The moment I saw it, it was hard. And then I saw you in person. I needed to deal with it."

You shifted a little closer to him. "Well, you were sending those pictures first. I was just following your lead."

"I wasn't trying to be sexy in the pictures..."

"Well, you're bad at not being sexy. And, why would you send that shirtless one if you weren't making a pass at me."

Sunghoon's ears went pink. "Well–Maybe I was fishing a little. But I didn't think you'd send anything back to me."

"So it's my fault?"

He turned to you. "No! I didn't mean it like that. I meant–" Sunghoon couldn't finish his sentence as he watched you unbutton your shirt.

"What? Aren't you going to get undressed?"

Sunghoon looked away from you. "Wait, what's actually happening right now?"

You shyly started putting your shirt back on. "I thought you came so we could... have sex. Or something. That was dumb, I'm sorry–"

Sunghoon knelt down in front of you and stopped your hands. "No, it's not dumb. I liked it. I was just thrown for a second. We can do that if you want. But I want to take it off you if you'll let me."

You let your hands rest, Sunghoon slowly stripped off your shirt, touching you gently, caressing your skin, and breathing in your scent deeply as he did. Once your shirt was off, he tossed his aside roughly, revealing his muscular torso to you. You automatically looked away, but he sweetly pulled your chin to face him.

"You can touch me, y/n." He spoke with softness in his voice and looked up at you with warm eyes.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. It was stiff and strong. You traced his muscles down his arm until your hands met his and locked into his fingers.

"We'll go however far you want, y/n. Whatever you want, I'm all yours." He kissed your hand.

"Can you call me baby?"

He chuckled. "Baby."

Your heart fluttered at his deep voice calling out to you.

"Baby, can I touch you?"

You nod.

Sunghoon uses his other hand to wrap around your waist and lift you off the bed, moving you so he'd sit on the bed and you on his lap. "Is this okay?" He slightly leaned in for a kiss, pausing for your consent.

You nod again. Leaning in to meet him.

Sunghoon's hands traced your chest before landing on your hips. Your hands traveled up his waist and stopped at his neck as the two of you made out. Every time you moaned Sunghoon would pull you closer to him, squeezing you slightly. You could feel him slowly grinding into you, his hips lurching upward for just a moment of sensation. You arch your back, laying your ass down to meet him, earning a groan from him.

"Keep doing that, baby." He moaned into the kiss.

You pulled away from the kiss. "We can keep moving forward."

Sunghoon lets you climb off of him. The both of you face away from one another as you toss aside your pants and underwear, leaving you both naked.

You felt a little too exposed. "Actually, can I have my shirt back?

Sunghoon handed it to you, and you took it without looking back at him. You slipped it on but left it unbuttoned and open. Slowly, you turned around to let him see you.

"You look amazing with it on. Good call." He complimented.

You blushed at his compliment and lay on the bed. "Are you coming?"

Sunghoon crawled onto the bed, positioning himself over you. "Are you prepared, or do you need me to do it?"

You covered your face. "Don't ask embarrassing questions. Just check if it's enough for you."

Sunghoon smiled. "Will you lick my fingers?"

You moved your hands just enough to show your mouth and let it open. He delicately placed his fingers on your tongue and let you work them over, tossing and turning them. You got them so wet that they were dripping as he took them out.

"Jesus, that's hot." Sunghoon put them in his mouth.

"Hoon–" He then slipped two fingers into you, making you cover your mouth so you didn't slip out any loud noises.

Sunghoon pushed and pulled softly, searching around and bending his fingers. When he found your spot, he felt you suddenly squeeze his fingers. "There it is. Now, I know where to aim."

You were starting to drool with all the foreplay. Or maybe it was an overexcited thing. Either way, Sunghoon noticed and licked your cheek, drinking your spit.

"We're going to start now. Anything you need to do?" He asked one more time for your consent.

"I've been waiting for you to get to it..." You muttered.

"Oh, baby, are you getting impatient?" He teased me.

You didn't answer and Sunghoon lined himself with your hole before slowly sliding his length inside you. You held the sheets of the bed, trying to control your noises as he filled you. He was so big, and every vein and twitch felt like an explosion inside of you. You struggled to stay still while you got used to him.

"You can do it, baby."

You moaned. "Seven inches is more than I've had before..."

"Did you count my inches with your hole? How lewd." Sunghoon chuckled. "And, we're not done yet."

Your mouth twitched a smile. "Just put it all in then."

Sunghoon put his hands on either side of your hips and pulled up into him, putting the last two inches into you.

"Nine!?" You almost screamed.

"Maybe it's 9.5, but who's counting? Now, stay quiet, or Jay will wake up." He leaned down to you, sliding his hand under your head. "Bite me if you need to."

You thought you didn't need to until you felt his hips move, and then your mouth instantly fixed itself to Sunghoon's collar. He groaned as he started moving slowly but picked up the pace when you moaned. Your thighs were raised, and your legs were around his waist, shaking as Sunghoon pulled you into him to meet his thrusts. You could feel Sunghoon's muscles moving and tensing as he controlled your body. He leaned back to see his work on you and caught you staring at his chest. His pecs were so big and bounced with every thrust.

"Oh? Does Baby like my chest? Wanna touch it?"

You nodded breathlessly.

Sunghoon leaned back down for you to touch them comfortably.

You squeeze them, pinching on his nipples. You were mesmerized by them.

"Since you like them so much, I'll keep them nice and big for you, okay?" Sunghood cool to you.

"O–Okay." You moaned as you held his pecs in your hands, kneading them roughly. The sensations were so intense you didn't even notice you'd already finished once, cum painting your stomach.

Sunghoon's thrusts got sloppier, losing their rhythm as his moans got shakier.

"I'm almost there, baby, hold on a little longer." He growled, hitting a few more times before his cum spilled into you. Which makes you cum again, painting yourself with more ropes of white. Sunghoon rode out his high, thrusting a few more times before pulling out. Cum spilling out of you, onto the bed.

Your body shook and convulsed every few seconds from the rush. You were a sticky mess, and Sunghoon took care of everything. He went into the bathroom and got you hot towels to clean you. And then he carried you to your bathroom so you could do your business. While you took care of yourself on the toilet, Sunghoon changed the sheets and waited for you to come out of the bathroom with new pajamas ready.

Sunghoon tucked you under the covers. "Goodnight, baby, I'll see you in the morning." He got under the covers with you to cuddle you.

You grabbed his arm. "You're not leaving? What about Jay?"

Sunghoon laughed. "He knows. I talked to him. He should be at Jungwon's house right now doing the same as us."

"Why would you tell him–Jungwon!? They're a thing!?"

"Since forever. And Jay's known for ages that I've liked you. After I talked to him about what happened, he chewed me out for being a pervert and jerking off in the house, but he gave me his blessing. So we don't need to worry about him~"

The two of you cuddled together for the night. You drifted to sleep to the sound of Sunghoon's heartbeat, plotting about your next morning...

[syoddeye]

cooking with gaz. inspired by this ask. abrupt ending.

From the first day, you know he's going to be a problem.

When you ask the group to introduce themselves and explain why they've enrolled, Kyle answers with a wide grin, tying a needlessly elaborate knot with the ribbons of his apron.

"Gotta fuel this body right," he winks, "and I heard women like men who cook."

Half the class dissolves into nervous giggles, and you know he's already won them over. Too charming for his own good.

So, a small, mean part of you takes satisfaction in watching someone that handsome struggle at something as basic as cooking.

Except for the part where it's literally your job to help him. Easier said than done.

He turns pasta into sludge, lets a soufflé erupt in the oven, and scorches a chopping board by setting it too close to an open flame. His risotto comes out as an overly salty, crunchy rice soup. Bakes cookies so bitter and dense they could double as hockey pucks, claiming afterward he didn't know you could add too much baking soda. By the end of each class, his station looks like a war zone.

It's infuriating—his inability to follow instructions, his overconfidence. The mix of dread and something far less professional you feel whenever he walks into the room. You try to pay equal attention to your other students, but you can't stray far from his station.

You're stuck hovering, correcting him, guiding him, putting out metaphorical—and sometimes literal—fires. Your consolation is that the rest of the class at least finds him amusing. You would too, if you weren't the one scraping another charred disaster into the bin.

One evening, as the rest of the class packs up, he apologizes. Says he knows you must be frustrated by him.

"Guess I need to practice more at home," he rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his stupid, pretty face. "Think I could send you some photos for feedback?"

You hesitate, because it's absolutely crossing a line, but the image of him with an open flame alone in his flat is enough to make you fold. You have a responsibility to some degree.

"Fine." You reluctantly scribble your number on a napkin. "Don't hurt yourself."

"Yes, chef." Ugh.

The next evening, your phone buzzes as you're fixing your own dinner. A picture. Chicken parm. It's plated messily, with a little too much sauce, but it's…edible-looking. No visible inferno, either. Except your eyes don't linger on the food. They snag on his arm, front and center, forearm muscles tensed as he holds the tray.

Before you can recover, a second photo arrives. This time, a selfie. Kyle grinning ear to ear with a forkful, the very picture of someone far too pleased with himself. You want so badly to find it insufferable. Instead, it's cute. Mouth-watering in a completely different way.

>> What do you think, chef? Want a bite?

Yeah, you think, gaze lingering on the curve of his bicep. Yeah, I really do.

You hold it together long enough to respond.

> Looks good.

You leave it at that, returning to your meal with a different kind of hunger pang.

The next class, Kyle smirks across the kitchen the entire time you discuss the week's dishes. You expect some kind of sneaky comment, another disaster, but to your surprise, nothing major happens. His dishes come out fine. Not spectacular, but decent. A noticeable improvement, even if he's still a little too generous with his measurements.

You watch him, waiting for something to go wrong, but it never does. It's almost unsettling.

The texts continue between classes. To his credit, he sticks to pictures of his meals—slightly overcooked chicken, messy pasta, a cheesy-looking omelet—but there's a shift. The photos become less about the food and more about him. You nearly drop your phone in a stockpot when he sends a selfie in a tank top, holding a plate of something you don't even register because you're too busy staring.

You respond with another Looks good, silence your phone, and reconsider your life choices.

Then pozole night happens.

Kyle's actually done really well this time. You're a little shocked, looking at the pot of simmering soup that smells, against all odds, delicious.

"Want a taste?"

Before you can answer, he dips the spoon and holds it out, one hand cupped beneath to catch any drips. You lean in automatically, not even thinking about it until you feel his fingertips graze the underside of your chin. You freeze, meeting his gaze as the spoon reaches your mouth. He doesn't look away, and when you part your lips, your cheeks warm for reasons that have nothing to do with soup.

When you swallow, his eyes dart from your throat to your mouth. His lips curl into a small, knowing smile. Your knees feel embarrassingly weak. What the hell is wrong with you.

Kyle's voice dips low, fingers hovering near your chin. "You like that?"

Your breath catches. "Great job." you manage stiffly, then swiftly move on to the next student.

You feel him staring for the rest of class. You avoid looking his way, but every time you do, he's already watching you, that same maddening expression on his face.

It's not surprising when Kyle lingers after dismissal, taking too long to pack up. As the last student leaves, he corners you by the sink while you wash up.

"So," he starts, stepping closer, "are we done with the back and forth now? Or should I send a shirtless one next?"

You blink, caught between disbelief and irritation, feeling the knot of your apron loosen. Swiveling, you grab a towel off the counter and glare up at him. "What are you talking about?"

He tilts his head. Then, without breaking eye contact, he plants his hands on the counter, boxing you in. Your stomach flips. 

"C'mon, chef," Kyle says quieter, but no less confident. "I'm saying, if you want, you don't have to settle for just photos anymore. What do you say? Grab dinner with me."

It's galling, him standing there all smug like he already knows the answer. The audacity. It's absurd. Bold. But the worst part is, you don't know if you're annoyed or intrigued. You've spent weeks trying to convince yourself he's nothing more than an unfortunately hot, underwhelming cook with nice arms and a better smile. 

But at this moment, there's no point pretending anymore. You are, against your better judgment, interested.

You sigh, loud enough to make a show of it, like you really don't want to go on a date with him, and furiously dry your hands.

"Fine. But you're not cooking—we're eating out."

His grin deepens, hands finding the back of your apron's neck strap to gently tug it over your head.

"Yeah, babe," he teases. "I plan to."