#chopped onion (until cooked)

[harlequinfrog]

one of my friends is trying to learn how to cook so i'm teaching him my favorite recipes and today we made sundubu jjigae together. it was a bit of a mess because i hadn't made it in a while but my god!!! stews that could make you forgive your father

[henrysblake]

Made thee most delectable coconut milk tomato dal yesterday. Had some leftovers w rice + scrambled egg tn. delish!!

[littlebirdy0301]

hello & welcome to Your One Unemployed Friend On A Random Weekday of Summer Break. today’s highlights include: cleaning the livingroom coffee table, applying to 1 (one) job, going to the grocery store for just arugula & parsley, almost washing the car, & making a dopeass salad in which I ate an entire cans worth of chickpeas

[notwithstandingclause]

You can make a vegetable ragu whenever you want and the government can't stop you from doing this!

[tooquirkytolose]

Everyone loves my moms mexican rice and proclaim it the best they've ever had and I see a lot of recipes out there that are either too fussy or too bland so I'll just list the things my mom does that she says make it good

-you really truly do not need chicken bouillon/chicken broth. Plain water is fine, my mom started omitting the bouillon when I became vegetarian so I could eat it and literally no one knows the difference its fine

- you don't need cumin or cilantro you just need onion, garlic, salt and tomato sauce (or jarred tomatoes)

-FRY YOUR RICE!!! in oil!!! Fry until golden brown and nutty, DO NOT SKIP THIS STEP it adds flavor and deepens the color of the end product if you don't fry your rice in oil it looks pale and unappetizing

-blend your water, chopped onion, garlic cloves, and tomato sauce (or jarred tomatoes) add this liquid to the fried rice after you've drained the excess oil, cook like regular rice

You will now be the envy of all mexican mothers and taquerias 👍

[angelicgirlmj]

an angels guide: healthy eating at school

hi angels! you voted and this came first so here it is, an angels guide to eating healthily and focusing on your body and health goals at school. healthy eating at school can be tricky. you use up so much enegry and time in class and studying that meals can seem a little less important. you might end up skipping a meal or eating a meal that ends up not fitting your health goals all because you ran out of time. i have created three categories of lunches to help you find meal inspo: cold lunches, hot lunches and make the night before lunches. also a bonus snack section and some general tips! enjoy angels and feel free to comment your go to lunches/snacks.

˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

tips

bring a bottle of cold water with you to school, drinking water regularly helps you look and feel your best.

eat breakfast! even if you don’t get very hungry eating in the morning helps your brain and body function it’s best. try having some fruit or a smoothie if you really struggle to eat in the mornings.

try vitamins/probiotics to help you get all your nutrients and vitamins in.

buy a cute lunch box/food containers to make sure your lunches are adorable.

make a pinterest board of cute healthy lunches to be inspired by!

figure out your health goals and create meal ideas from there. for example: i want to build muscle! that means you need more protein in your diet so plan meals and snacks with lots of protein sources to fit your goal.

˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

a week of cold lunches:

chicken salad: mix chicken, avocado, tomato, cucumber, carrot, corn, salad leaves (lettuce, rocket etc). add mustard and lemon dressing, season well with salt and pepper and fresh dill. dessert: raspberries and blueberries served with peanut butter and greek yogurt.

tuna and avocado pita: mashed avocado and tuna, seasoned with salt and pepper, fill in pita along with rocket and pickle slices. dessert: pineapple and pomegranate fruit salad.

cold rice bowl: mix cooked salmon, rice, cucumbers, cooked broccoli and sliced carrot. sprinkle with sesame seeds and pepper and salt. garnish with a garlic mayo or homemade yogurt garlic sauce. dessert: chopped strawberries dipped in yogurt and coated in dark chocolate and coconut oil left to harden.

feta and turkey wrap: place lettuce, turkey, tomato in a wrap and sprinkle with feta, pepper and salt. dessert: sliced apple (squeeze lemon over to stop apple going brown) with peanut butter, greek yogurt and cinnamon dip.

cold pesto pasta salad: mix cooked penne pasta, homemade pesto, tomato, rocket, avocado, grated parmesan and season with salt and pepper. dessert: tangerine pieces and kiwi.

cold noodles: mix cooked noodles, shredded red cabbage and carrots, green onions, handful of crushed peanuts, chopped cucumber and cover with sesame peanut sauce. dessert: homemade blueberry banana oat muffin.

salmon bagel: add salmon, cream cheese (or cottage cheese), cucumber, rocket, lemon and pepper to a bagel. dessert: blackberries and mango.

˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

a week of hot lunches:

pizza toast: spread homemade tomato sauce on a piece of sourdough bread, cover with mozzarella, add your favourite toppings such as ham, mushroom, olive, pepper etc and bake until cheese melted, serve with rocket. dessert: banana bread and greek yogurt.

stuffed aubergine (or eggplant): sauté aubergine, onion, garlic, pepper, zucchini and olive, add in tomato paste and season. put in aubergine and sprinkle with cheese. bake until cheese melted. dessert: sautéed apples served warm with yogurt and granola.

chicken meatballs: homemade chicken meatballs cooked with a soy based sauce and red peppers. serve with cooked rice. dessert: strawberry oat crumble.

gyozas: heat or make some gyozas and serve with a cucumber and carrot salad with soy sauce to dip. dessert: hot matcha tea with strawberries.

soup: make your favourite soup and serve with some warm sourdough toast. dessert: watermelon slices.

quesadilla style wrap: fill a whole wheat wrap with cheese, turkey, tomatoes and avocado. cook until cheese melted and warm. dessert: green grapes, blueberries and raspberries.

grilled chicken burrito bowl: mix grilled chicken, rice, avocado, black beans, corn, tomatoes, red onions, cilantro and sour cream with cooked rice and squeeze over lime and season as preferred. dessert: rice cakes with greek yogurt strawberries and melted dark chocolate.

˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

snack ideas:

veggie sticks and hummus.

fruit salad.

frozen banana, peanut butter and chocolate slices.

pretzel thins and sliced cheese.

frozen grapes and lime.

salty popcorn.

yogurt parfait.

cucumber and cream cheese rice cakes.

cookie dough protein bites.

banana peanut butter rice cakes.

homemade oatmeal cookies.

smoothie.

chia pudding.

˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

thank you for reading! happy back to school season. remember to nourish and take care of your body - you deserve it! love, m.

[bunjywunjy]

bunjy recipe book- Crustless Quiche of Eternal Dinners

this is a reliable, quick, and infinitely modifiable recipe that uses an entire three eggs plus whatever you have in the fridge to give you and several friends an excellent dinner time! crust is the most labor intensive and also the most boring part of the quiche, so getting rid of it really opens up entire worlds of possibilities for what is basically a very easy modifiable egg pie.

you will need:

a glass or porcelain 9-in pie dish, well greased

3 eggs

1/3 cup milk

1/3 cup heavy cream

salt and pepper to taste

this will give you a basic custard to enclose your fillings! and the fillings are up to you- good basic combinations to add are cheese/vegetables (like leek/gruyere), cheese/starch (like sharp cheddar/potatoes), cheese/vegetable/starch (like smoked cheddar/sweet onions/potatoes), cheese/vegetable/meat (like mozzarella/rehydrated sun-dried tomatoes/italian sausage), and cheese/meat (like cream cheese and lox).

you will need to fully cook your ingredients before you add them to the quiche if they are raw- saute your veggies and meats (DON'T FORGET TO ADD SALT), shred your cheese, and microwave your potatoes before chopping them into chunks. make sure that you remove any liquid or excess oil from your ingredients before you add them, as they can cause bubbles of weird hot liquid or a lot of oil buildup under your quiche. just put them on a paper towel for a little bit before you add them to the dish.

you can also add some spices to your custard when you mix it to complement your ingredients! there should always be salt and black or white pepper in there, but think about what other spices you have lying around that might go with what you're using. if you're doing mozzarella/sun-dried tomatoes/Italian sausage, add a couple shakes of italian seasoning blend, or basil/oregano/terragon! if you're doing cream cheese/lox, throw some dill in there! using a smoked cheese? add smoked paprika! you can add anything from dry spices to a couple shakes of hot sauce, mustard, or even worcestershire sauce if you think it'll work. sky is the limit.

once your ingredients are dry and your custard is assembled, you're ready to build your quiche! take your empty pie pan and grease it up real well with olive oil or butter, and layer in your starch and/or meat if you're using either of those. add your veggies in a thin layer on top of this, and then cover the whole thing in a layer of shredded cheese if you're using it! (cream cheese, ricotta, and cottage cheese should be swirled into the custard instead) lastly, pour in your custard and tease the vegetables and cheese around with a fork until everything is mostly submerged.

bake in a 350° preheated oven for 30 minutes and allow to cool before slicing.

keeps well in the fridge for over a week, some assemblages are good hot or cold! enjoy your infinite dinners.

[wileys-russo]

(real)ly invested II a.putellas

"mi amor? estoy en casa!" you heard the footballer call out, letting herself in and leaving her shoes at the door, bag left on the entrance way table as always for her to repack later on.

"kitchen!" you called back, the girl zooming in to steal a kiss before mumbling something about the bathroom and taking off again as you chuckled, cheek tingling where her lips had been.

"oh no, that is not okay. don't let her talk to you like that!" you scoffed with a shake of your head, the pan sizzling as you dropped the onions in, one eye on your phone and the other flickering to the stove as you gently tossed the vegetables through the butter.

"are you talking on the phone?" alexia asked with a confused frown as she returned, a pinch delivered to her hip as she flicked water droplets at you from where she'd washed and clearly not properly dried her hands.

"no, catching up." you nodded down to your phone nestled up against an empty jar of tomato paste, an episode of the real housewives of beverly hils playing as your girlfriend groaned.

"no esto otra vez!" alexia sighed, hissing as you quickly rapped her knuckles with the wooden spoon in your hand where she tried to sneak a piece of the steak which was chopped and resting.

"can you not wait four minutes until its done putellas?" you stared her down as she scowled at you like a grumpy child, mocking you under her breath in spanish and pulling a face.

"out of my kitchen!" you ordered with a pointed finger, the midfielder saluting sarcastically, leaning down to plant a proper kiss on your lips before grabbing a handful of cutlery to set the table.

"mi amor this is a long wait." though she was back before it had even been sixty seconds, chin tucked into your shoulder and strong tanned muscular arms wrapping around your torso.

but preoccupied with your show you only hummed, the feather light kisses on your neck not even enough to pull you away as you gasped under your breath and tutted at yet another argument breaking out.

with an offended scoff that her affections weren't being returned alexia gave up, retreating to the living room like a kicked puppy and busying herself doom scrolling instagram on her phone until you called out it was done.

"no! no phone at the table. your rule, no?" alexia was quick to snatch your own phone out of your hand, tossing it gently onto the sofa behind her though not before turning it off as the argument was cut off mid sentence.

"i do not know how you watch that uh, how you say? white trash?" alexia responded with a confused frown making you laugh. "it is entertaining amor, rich women have stupid problems and get very angry about them." you smiled, both of you falling into conversation about your days as you ate.

"you cook, i clean." alexia gently swatted your hand away where you tried to clear the table, stacking your plates and cutlery and sweetly pecking your lips before carrying them off to the sink.

"empieza el fútbol!" the catalan called out in warning as you sank into the sofa and clicked on the television, groaning loudly making your girlfriend smile with amusement, clicking out of the streaming service you'd intended to continue your reality binge on and onto DAZN instead.

"oye! you do not want to watch with me?" the blonde called after you as you stood and started toward the bedroom, drying her hands on a dish towel and looking genuinely offended as your lips quirked into a smile.

"baby my show-" "you would choose las demás mujeres over spending time with me?"

at the jut of her hips and raised eyebrow daring you to agree your smile grew and you shook your head, turning on heel and heading back to the living room.

"one half, then i want to see if this argument with las demás mujeres ends in a fist fight." you grinned, getting comfortable and opening your arms expectantly as sure enough the taller girl flopped down on top of you.

"ese programa es horrible." alexia muttered, grabbing your hand and moving it toward her hair expectantly as you chuckled. "it is not! less boring than all your documentaries." you mumbled as her head popped up with a frown.

"you said you liked them!" "ale, mi amor i fall asleep every time we watch one." "so you lied?"

"no i did not lie! i like them because they keep you quiet and entertained and i get to take a nap." you smiled cheekily, squealing as your girlfriends fingers dug into your sides and you shoved at her.

"don't! or i will go and watch my show alexia i mean it." you warned, extremely ticklish which the blonde loved to take advantage of but you weren't in the mood and she sensed that, an apology pressed to your lips before her attention focused onto the pregame discussions.

your attention however wandered, one arm free you pulled your phone from your pocket, scrolling through your social medias as alexia yelled and grunted at the tv like the players could hear her which was always amusing.

"qué haces?" alexia asked as you you sharply inhaled, eyes locked onto your phone. "research." you hummed, on a deep dive through a reddit blog about one of the housewives and her husband who was being criminally investigated for embezzling.

"i thought you had finished your paper?" alexia frowned sitting up a little making you snicker. "no baby, research about my show." you explained as alexia exhaled and rolled her eyes, grumbling something and getting comfortable again.

"vale! what are you reading?" alexia huffed as you gasped quietly to yourself for the third time in five minutes, the game going into extra time now.

"i told you! resea-" "sé que. what is it?" "well this woman-" you paused to angle your phone downward. "-her husband owns a restaurant and it is being investigated for fraud and embezzlement!" you began to explain as alexia hummed, her gaze drifting back to the television every now and then.

"but then this woman-" you swiped across to a new photo. "-started a rumour between all of her friends that this other womans husband is actually having an affair with-" you paused to swipe again.

"-this woman, who is actually his business partner and this womans ex! when she dated women for a week and told everyone she was a lesbian and-" you continued on your ramblings, a loud snore snapping you out of them as you fell silent.

"no no cariño lo siento i was teasing!" alexia laughed as you pushed her off of you, yanking her hands off which tried to tug you back down by the hem of your shirt.

"well i said one half. so i am going to watch my boring show and you can watch your stupid football!" you huffed, stomping off to the bedroom and ignoring your girlfriends calls after you.

you'd just gotten settled and comfortable, about ten or so minutes into the episode you'd had to pause over dinner when she appeared in the doorway, leaning against its frame as her hazel eyes roamed over you.

"go away alexia." you warned not even bothering to look at her, crossing your arms and staying fixated on the tv. "tan mala conmigo." the older girl tutted, grinning wolfishly as you shot her a very unimpressed glare at the accusation.

"go watch your stupid ball game tonta." you shooed a hand at her, wiggling your fingers in a goodbye but still she made no move to leave, instead stepping forward into the room.

"alexia!" you sighed impatiently as she lifted the covers and slid into bed beside you, nudging you across as she jostled about to get herself comfortable.

"esta mujer, she sells the furs no?" alexia pointed to one of the blondes on screen as you gave her an odd look but nodded. "buena, and she is always fighting with esa mujer who says she is a vegan, but she still eats the fancy cheeses and salamis, sí?" alexia recounted, one arm moving to slip around your shoulders and draw you closer.

"y esta mujer, she has the kids who nobody likes the ones that cry and scream for la niñera because they like her more than their mami." alexia pointed to another woman as your eyebrows furrowed together in shock.

"how do you know all of this?" you sat up and looked down at her incredulously, her free hand cupping the back of your neck. "you watch this show all the time princesa. you talk to your friends on el teléfono about it, you talk to yourself about it, you are uh, very passionate. i listen." alexia smiled in amusement, leaning up to press her lips sweetly to yours.

"you like the show! you follow all the drama, you always stand behind me and pretend to be doing something on your phone or you complain, but you watch as you tease me. you like it!" you gasped, pushing her down and moving to almost sit on top of her.

"i did not say that!" alexia scoffed though you could see right through it now, your grin consuming your whole face with delight. "you do! say you like it." you egged her on, hands cupping her cheeks as once again her eyes rolled though the very corner of her lips twinged.

"if you love me putellas, admit you like it." you quirked an eyebrow as the footballer let out a deep and dramatic sigh. "it is not terrible." alexia admitted begrudingly as you clapped happily, rolling off of her and back into bed as the midfielder who'd been leaning up for a kiss frowned.

"fantastic! there is still twelve whole seasons we can enjoy baby, together!" "twelve!?"

[daydreamerwonderkid]

At no point ever has Batman shown any sexual desire in a man All of his partners are female Shipping a canonical straight man with another canonical straight man is a disservice to his character and requires Superman a character with a code of honor and upstanding morals to cheat on his canonical wife in order for an extremely out of character relationship to take place

Cozy Soup

Prep Time: 15-20 min

Cook Time: 30-50 min

Serves: 6-8 people

Ingredients

1 lb ground beef or turkey

3/4 cup chopped onion

-Even if you hate onions, I promise they'll taste amazing in this

3/4 cup chopped carrots

1 tsp dried parsley

1 tsp dried basil

4 tbsp butter

3 cups chicken broth

4 cups peeled and diced potatoes

1/4 cup all purpose flour

2 cups Velveta cheese, cubed

-Alternatively, you can do 2 cups of shredded cheddar cheese instead

1 1/2 cups milk

3/4 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

1/4 cup sour cream

Instructions

1. Brown ground meat in a 3-4 qtr saucepan. Once it's fully cooked, drain the meat and set it aside.

2. In the original saucepan, add 1 tbsp butter, chopped onion and carrots, dried basil, and dried parsley. Saute until all are tender.

3. Add broth, potatoes, and meat to saucepan. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat, cover with a lid, and simmer for 10-15 min until everything is tender.

4. In a separate skillet, melt remaining butter and add flour. Cook and stir for 3-5 min or until the mixture becomes bubbly. Add to soup and bring it to a boil. Cook and stir again for 2 additional minutes. Reduce heat to low.

5. Stir in the cheese, milk, salt and pepper. Cook and stir until cheese completely melts. Remove from heat and blend in sour cream. Serve.

Optional Garnishes

-Bacon bits

-Feta crumbles

-Shredded cheddar cheese

-Chives

Additional

Highly recommend garlic bread to go alongside this dish. It's pure heaven.

[void-my-warranty]

Sack of Flour (18+)

Service Dog Johnny Part 7 (full part list here)

“Get your monthly while I was gone?”

“Mhmm.” You don’t look up from your hobby things at the table, chewing on your mouth as you try to get it right. 

“How was it?” Simon asks. From across the kitchen comes the soft, slow chopping sounds of someone with mediocre knife skills and an aversion to being cut. 

“Fine,” you reply with a sigh. “We were slow at work, so I took breaks. Wasn’t as bad as last time.”

He gives you an acknowledging grunt, and the chopping pauses for a few seconds before resuming. “Touch yourself while I was gone?”

Craft momentarily forgotten, you twist your head to see him tossing onion skins in the trash, as if that’s just some natural, catching-up sort of question. 

“A little.”

He leans his hands in the counter to look at you, those little lines around his eyes creasing with a smile. “Get that toy out finally?”

You roll your eyes and go back to your project. “Yes, actually.”

“On my bed, was it?” 

You’re determinedly not looking at him now. “Mhmm.”

“I missed you, darling.”

Okay, nevermind. You flash him a happy smile. “Missed you too.”

There’s a stretch of comfortable silence after that, where Simon is busy with the cooking and you’re allowing yourself some mental recuperation before the work week begins. 

He’s been in quite a good mood today. It makes you wish you had pried into his nightmares earlier, wish you had known there was some shameful burden he’s been carrying. It’s so much better, knowing. You can’t work through these parts of him if he never shows them to you. Can’t really know him, unless he allows it.

“Playing with Johnny tonight?”

You exhale when something goes a little bit wrong with your project, and you have to retrace your steps to fix it. “Uh, no, I told him no sex tonight, just come over for food.”

The air shifts. It’s heavier now, in a way that you recognize as Simon gathering his thoughts before he says something. You peer over to try and gauge his expression, figure out what you said wrong.

“When’s the last time you got to cum?” he asks casually, turning his back to get the stove going. 

A timid laugh leaves you, not really sure if he’s joking or not. “Don’t worry about me. I’m okay.”

That’s when you get his full, stupid attention on you, making your knee bounce under the table while you endure his ‘I’m not going to repeat myself’ face.

“Okay,” you relent, scrubbing a hand over your face. “Um…. Four or five days ago, maybe? Actually, no, last weekend. Really, it’s fine. I just… I don’t know. I really don’t want him to feel used.”

“Mhmm.” Simon turns away again, a hand propped on his hip and the other one hovering over the pan to check the temperature. “Me ‘n Johnny have been sitting in dirt and sweat for two weeks. I think you should let him make his own choice.”

Okay, but that would require being both honest and selfish at the same time, and your sexual needs are simply not worth doing that.

You must be taking too long to reply, or maybe staring at the table too intently, because he clears his throat a little and says, “And if I’m honest, I haven’t heard your pretty little noises in two weeks, and I’m a mite hard up for it.”

A tingle of interest sparks between your legs, effectively drowning out your previous embarrassment. Simon’s turned back to toss the onions in the pan, but you know he’s just using it as an excuse to hide for a second. Your eyes float over his broad back, the movements of his arm as he works. You’re thinking about this morning, waking up to him wrapping himself around you and sighing so deliciously into your hair. 

“Simon,” you prompt quietly, waiting for him to turn and meet your eyes. “You know, you’re really easy to love.”

He does that subtle shake of his head. “Don’t be givin—“

“Shut your mouth, or else I’m going to grab that knife and hold it on your neck until you do.” 

Your enormous boyfriend sets down the spatula without a sound, turning fully to face you with his eyes suddenly dark and foreboding.

“Don’t,” you warn, trying to scowl back, even though you’re smiling like an idiot. 

He doesn’t even have to look behind him, just clicks the stove burner off and takes a step toward you.

“Simon Riley, I’m warning you.” You desperately push your craft farther into the table so it will be spared. 

The sizzle of the onions begins to die as he closes the distance, and you shriek as he scoops you up into the air with a, “Where’s your fuckin knife now, you little ankle biter?”

Two days of not shaving unfortunately means he has a weapon, and he doesn’t hesitate to assault you with his prickly chin, weaseling it into your neck while you squeal and wriggle in his arms. 

“You’re gonna— make me— horny—“ you gasp out, fisting his hair in an effort to prevent tickles. 

“Rubbish, and you know it.”

His phone dings in his pocket, but he ignores it.

You finally manage to yank his face away from your neck, but he just nips at your exposed ear, forcing another peal of laughter out of you. “That’s probably Johnny!” you argue breathlessly. 

“Mhmm.”

“You need to check it. He’s lost or something. Broke his other ankle.”

Simon sighs, giving you one last play bite. He slings you straight over his shoulder as if you’re a sack of flour, wrapping his arm around your thighs and digging into his pocket with the other hand. 

“Oh my god,” you huff, unreasonably entertained by the downward view of his ass. 

“Ahh, yeah, Johnny’s here.”

Oh no.

Wait.

“Don’t you fucking dare—“

To your horror he just starts walking with you like that, ignoring your frantic screeches and death threats. You can practically feel the self satisfaction etched into his body as he gets you all the way to the hall, and you’re helpless to do anything but prop your arms on his back, freezing in place and holding your breath when you hear the door open. 

“Hey, Johnny.”

There’s a suspicious silence then, and you can perfectly imagine the look on Johnny's face, confronted with your whole ass stuck next to Simon’s head. You just know your boyfriend has that deadpan expression plastered on, the one he uses whenever he’s fucking with someone. 

“Got some wine,” comes Johnny’s amused voice.

“Cheers, mate.”

You wind back as far as you can, furiously smacking Simon’s ass with one solid hit, and you’re rewarded by his pained grunt and a highly satisfying sting to your palm.

Next Part

Dividers by @the-aesthetics-shop

Chronological Read-Through Path

[moonstruckme]

Thanks for being patient with me! This is edited on about four hours of sleep so apologies for any errors <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

Water sizzles on the stove. You reach over to turn down the heat, your side heating from its proximity to the boiling water, before spinning back around to keep speed-chopping onion. This is a result of poor planning. 

It’s possible that some of your nerves could be reinterpreted as excitement. Giddiness, even. You’re finally—finally—doing something to try and repay all the kindness James shows you. You’ve felt like such a mooch, eating his cooking and stealing his time with his friends, but last week had been too much for you to take. He’d discovered the stomach bug you were weathering, and James had completely devoted the next two days of his life to making sure you were looked after. 

Your fever had gotten so out of hand he’d very nearly followed through on his favorite threat (going into your phone while you’re sleeping and phoning your mum), and though you’d done your best to downplay it at the time there are admittedly gaps in your memory wherein you think you were simply too out of it to know what was going on. It’s not a very comforting thought when you’re harboring a humiliating crush on your roommate; you may well have been just as talkative as James always is, you don’t know. At least he hasn’t said anything. 

He had, thankfully, managed to avoid catching it. You’re not sure how he managed what no one on your shift at work did, but you assume it has something to do with all that kale he eats. Which is why you’re doing your best to make the thank-you meal you’re making him as healthy as might suit his standards. 

You hear his key in the door, and a little frisson goes up your spine. 

“You’re early,” you accuse as he walks in. 

“Since when do you know when my training ends?” James asks. You sound like you’re sniping at one another, but as usual the joviality in his tone is unmissable. 

The sounds of his entrance are familiar, perhaps more ingrained in your mind than they ought to be. Keys jingling as he hangs them on the hook, shoes toed off and left by the mat, heavy footsteps headed for wherever you are in the apartment. 

When he finds you in the kitchen, you both speak at once. 

“What happened to your shoulder?” 

“You know how to cook?” 

“Hurt it at training,” James answers, shrugging with the shoulder that doesn’t have an ice pack held to it. He’s probably too nice for it to occur to him to withhold his answer until you’ve given yours, as had been your first thought. “What are you making?” 

“How did you hurt it?” Worry pries at your tone. Your hands have stilled on the cutting board. 

“We had a scrimmage, and I got shoulder-barged.” He gives you a smile, a shadow of the real thing, but gentler. Reassuring. “It’s not bad.” 

You frown. “I don’t know what that means.” 

“Didn’t expect you to, love.” 

“Why do you need to ice it if it’s not bad?” 

There’s a look in James’ eyes that’s wavering between smugness and softness. You balk at the sight of it. “I need to be a bit careful with it,” he hedges, “but it’ll be good by morning. Now, you’ve distracted me. Do you mean to tell me you’ve known how to cook this entire time?” 

“Yes,” you concede with a laugh. “I’ve always said I cook for myself when you’re not around.” 

“And here you are, doing it right before my eyes.” James leans on the counter with his good arm. He looks immensely entertained. “I’m honored.” 

“This isn’t just for me,” you say, looking down to resume chopping onion as your face warms slightly. “It’s for—” Another remonstrative hiss from the stove, and you whip around, moving the pot off the hot part entirely. You’re a bit relieved for the excuse to face away from him. “It’s for both of us. Also, I just want to provide a disclaimer right now that I never said I was good at cooking, only that I knew how.” 

James’ laugh rumbles behind you, just as you knew it would. He’s too easy. You can practically feel the force of his smile hitting your back, like the sunshine brought inside. 

“Here,” he says, taking a couple of steps toward you, “let me help.” 

“No!” You whirl again, stopping him before he can actually enter the kitchen. “No way. James, I’m trying to do something nice.” 

“And it is very nice,” he says, earnest. “It just seems like you could use a hand.” 

“I’ve got it,” you insist. Your hands are up to ward him off, but you put them at your sides when you realize how close they’re hovering to his chest. “It doesn't count as doing something for you if you do it yourself. Anyway, you’re incapacitated.” 

“I’m…” James looks confused, but then he glances down to his icing shoulder. “Oh, come on. I’m hardly immobilized.” 

“For all intents and purposes, you are.” You do your best to infuse your voice with conviction. You’ve found that’s usually the way with James. If you show any hesitation, he’ll turn on the charm and have you eating out of his hand before you know what’s happened. You herd him away from the kitchen. “Go sit down. Dinner will be ready soon.” 

You can’t help but be aware of him as you finish up, knowing he has to hear the sizzling when you accidentally spill things onto the stove or the one mumbled curse you’re not quick enough to bite back. All evidence that you’re not nearly as practiced a cook as James. You can practically feel his grin from a room over. Still, when it's done you’re fairly proud of yourself. 

James is beaming as he accepts his bowl. He hikes his knees up so you can pass between the couch and the coffee table, making a show of sniffing the steam rising from the food. 

“Is this risotto?” he asks, waiting for your little nod before his mouth drops open in astonishment. “You are so sneaky! I didn’t know you could cook at all, let alone fancy shit like this.” 

“It’s not that hard to make.” You look down at your fork as you raise it to your lips, blowing. 

“Sure it is! Loads of people have a hard time with it.” 

“Do you?” 

James grins, caught. You feel your own smile tugging at your lips as you take a bite.

He follows suit, forking a bit of the risotto and blowing to cool it before taking it in his mouth. His eyes dip closed, head lolling back, and he moans. 

“Oh my god, this is good. I’m never cooking again, now that I know you can do this.” 

You take another bite to avoid a response. You’re fairly sure the heat from your face could power the apartment for a month. 

James makes a few more over-the-top compliments of your culinary skills, which you deflect as best you can. As always, you eat mostly silently while he chatters, but when you look over your attention gets snagged on his shoulder. 

He’s only using the one hand to eat, bowl resting in his lap while you hold yours up closer to your face. His ice pack sits beside him now that he can’t hold it on anymore. You catch yourself gnawing on the inside of your lip. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask. 

James looks over, following your gaze. “Yeah,” he admits. “Nothing I’m not used to, though.” 

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “You get hurt often?” 

He smiles bemusedly. “It’s rugby, love. Getting a bit roughed up is part of the deal.” 

This doesn’t sit right with you. Though you hadn’t pondered it much before, you realize you’ve sort of been thinking of James, with his muscles and constant smiles and easygoing manner, as somewhat invincible. He seems like such a source of light in the world, it hadn’t occurred to you that anything bad could happen to him. You don’t like the idea of him being hurt. In any capacity. 

You realize this is likely playing out on your face when you notice James watching you. His eyes are soft. “As much as I would love to milk this for attention and maybe a sponge bath,” he says, setting his fork in his bowl, “it’s really not that bad. See?” 

He pulls down the sleeve of his shirt, and the effort to placate you is wasted. You take in a quiet, horrified gasp at the deeply colored bruise on James’ shoulder. One of your hands raises as if to touch it. It hovers in the space between you. 

“That’s not that bad?” you look at James in alarm. “It looks broken.” 

“It’s not,” he laughs. It’s a bit awkward, as close to self-conscious as you’ve ever seen him. “Trust me, I’ve had a couple broken bones in my time. It’s only bruised, and the muscle’s a bit strained.” 

The muscle, you’re noticing now, is quite substantial. Your focus is on the bruise, but the shoulder beneath it is eye-catching as well, hefty and taut-looking, presumably from the strain. That, or James is flexing. 

You raise your gaze quickly to his. Brown eyes tinged with smugness. 

“You’re worried about me.” His lips stretch into a grin. Not your favorite one in his arsenal. “Aw, sweetheart, I love you too.” 

You direct your attention back to your food, face hotter than hot. “I have justification for worry,” you say, the teasing tone you were going for undercut by the unintentional softness of your voice. “You’re voluntarily participating in a sport that seems like it’s trying to kill you.” 

James takes a self-satisfied bite of his risotto. “I don’t know, I was pretty worried when you fainted in my arms last week.” 

You side-eye him suspiciously. “I didn’t actually do that.” 

“Guess you’ll never know.” 

[amourrs]

sub!abby fucking you from behind, hands wrapping almost desperately around the flesh of your hips as she tugs your ass towards her again until it meets the hard plane of her pelvis. the sight unleashes a heady moan from her throat, heart rate thumping as you press your backside towards her again and your cunt squeezes down over the end of the double sided dildo that’s firmly inside you. “fuck, baby, not gonna last if you keep that up— oh, shit,” she whines, fingers digging tiny crescent shaped welts into the previously smooth, unmarred surface of your skin. the resultant pain makes you wince but also has the effect of bringing you back to yourself, brain clearing slightly from the pleasured haze it had drifted so quickly into. “y’like that, huh? like knowing how good you’re making me feel?” abby’s high pitched whine is all the confirmation you need to continue your teasing. “fuck, baby, so good to me. any better and you’ll probably just about manage to knock me up.” your words are only meant jokingly- taunting your girlfriend being one of your favorite pastimes- but her reaction is beyond anything you truly expected, her hips suddenly slamming into the fat of your ass as she picks up the pace, tears of pure bliss leaking from her eyes as she moans and pants above you. “fuck, you liked that? wanna get me pregnant? wanna make me a mommy?” the question breaks her- sudddenly the dirty blonde is done for, mutters of fuck yeah, wanna do it so bad, please, please, making their way out through the incoherent babbles that spill from her lips. abby’s straight up rutting against you now, all pretense of rhythm or regular motion abandoned in favour of her arousal. it’s a matter of minutes before you both cum, her before you, sweat slicking your temples and beading against the top of your lover’s lip. “didn’t know you’d like that so much,” you admit, head burrowing into the downy softness of your pillow as abby tries to regain her breath beside you, legs still trembling from her orgasm. “had you moaning and writhing and shit like a little bitch-” a fraction of a second goes by before a pillow connects firmly with your face. “shut up about it or i’m gonna cry and then i won’t cook later,” abby complains, “and i know you want my world famous pasta so don’t test me-” your lips instantly connect with hers to shut her up, teeth gently nibbling at your girlfriend’s lower lip as she whines into your mouth, pulling away to mutter about how unfair it is that you get to kiss her and win the argument. “shut up and get your ass downstairs, anderson. i’ll even chop the onion this time.”

[deerlysacred]

🍲 yellow fever & pinkie pie { dean winchester x witch fem!reader }

𐂂 𝄢 { you're taking care of dean, he's been scared of tiniest things because of a ghost sickness, while sam and bobby works to kill that ghost, they have to kill it as soon as possible since this sickness is known to lead to a heart attack that would kill dean.}

𖣂 𝄢 established relationship & fluff {s4 e6}

‼️ 𝄢 i do not own supernatural or any of its characters; all rights belong to their respective creators. this is purely a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only, with no intention of profit.

You arrived back at the motel, leaving Sam and Bobby to deal with this ghost Luther problem, because let's face it, someone needed to babysit Dean before he jumped out of a window over a dust bunny because of this ghost sickness.

The second you stepped inside, you heard a high-pitched yelp and saw Dean standing on the bed, brandishing a motel lamp like it was excalibur. His wide, panic-stricken emerald eyes found you, and he exhaled like he just saw an angel descend from the heavens.

Not Castiel, though. Castiel makes him uncomfortable for… reasons.

"Y/N!" he sighed, dropping the lamp. "Thank God. You're back. I was just—uh—checking for… uh, ghosts and stuff…"

You glanced at the floor. A sock. He screamed at a sock.

In his defense, it was a very threatening sock. Looked like it hadn't been washed since '98. But still.

You raised an eyebrow, but decided to let it go. "Okay, Dean. Sure." You walked past him towards the tiny motel kitchen to put the grocery bags on the counter.

You looked at Dean again, who was back to surfing through the channels. He was gripping the blankets up to his chest, eyes darting around like the walls were gonna close in on him.

Poor thing.

"You hanging in there?" you asked, soft but teasing.

Dean scoffed. "Oh yeah, just peachy, Y/N. Love having my whole nervous system on fire." He scratched his arm for the hundredth time. "You sure Sam and Bobby got this?"

"Positive." You placed a bag from the diner on the table. "Got you something, by the way."

Dean's head snapped to attention like a dog hearing the word 'treat'. "Is that—?"

"Pie."

His eyes misted over like he was a kid and you just told him he was finally getting a game console for Christmas.

"Not yet, though. You can eat it after you eat your soup. No sweets before feeding you properly. I thought soup would be the safest choice since Sam said the healthier you eat, the better in this process. Just bear with me until you get free from this sickness — even if it means eating veggies. Which— I know! is a torture for you."

You smiled to yourself when you heard him complain but still accept it, and turned back to focus on making the soup, fingers grazing the crinkling plastic before pulling out the ingredients one by one. A can of chicken broth, a bundle of fresh parsley, carrots, onion and garlic. You rolled up your sleeves, pushing your hair behind your ears as you reached for the knife.

The first cut into the onion sent an immediate sting through your eyes, the smell crisp and sharp. As you worked, slicing through the layers with careful precision, Dean groaned dramatically from the bed.

"You know," he said, voice hoarse from too much panicked yelling earlier, "this whole nurturing thing you do? It's unnatural."

You didn't look up, chopping the onion into uniform little squares. "Feeding my sick boyfriend is unnatural?"

The knife in your hand hesitated over the onion, its papery skin crackling under your grip. You weren't stalling —well, maybe a little— but something about cooking for Dean in this moment felt oddly… adult. Which was ridiculous, because you were an adult. Technically. Legally. And yet, standing here in this dingy motel kitchen, dicing vegetables like someone who had their life together, felt… weirdly comforting, yet different.

"Yeah, 'cause I'm the one who's supposed to be taking care of you." His voice was muffled, probably because he had pulled the blanket halfway over his face in some half-hearted attempt to hide from reality, embarrassed. "Instead, I'm over here in full damsel mode, while you make me soup like a… like a wholesome 1950s housewife."

You scoffed, swiping the onions and garlic pieces into the pan, to the melted butter. "I'd be a pretty awful housewife. Witches don't exactly thrive in suburbia."

Dean grumbled something under his breath, then turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling. A beat passed. Then—

"…So, you don't think you'd be good at it?"

"Good at what?" You tossed in the carrots, their color bright against the golden broth.

"You know. The whole—" He made a vague circling gesture. "Domestic thing. Housewife-y stuff."

Oh.

Your hands hesitated, fingers tightening around the wooden spoon. The question felt heavier than it should have, like an old doubt creeping back.

"I don't know… I don't think I could handle it."

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and suddenly, the air felt a little heavier. You focused on the simmering broth, stirring absently. Dean propped himself up on one elbow, giving you a skeptical look. "Why not?"

You hesitated. "Because… I don't know." You stirred the soup, watching the vegetables bob in the broth. "I love taking care of people. And I like doing this. But I dont think I'd be the perfect wife type. I'd get distracted with my own things and forget to clean. I'd forget which bills are due… Like… I don't even feel like an adult at most days. I just feel like an overgrown child in adult clothes, trying to mimic other people who seem to have it all together. I struggle with the easiest and most ridiculous things on a regular basis. I forget what day it is all the time. I still have to remind myself to drink water some days. I can't even commit to a consistent sleep schedule." You sighed, setting the knife down for a moment. "I can make soup, sure, but can I handle, like… taxes? Mortgage payments? Children? That's a whole other level of responsibility, and I still feel like I'm barely holding my own life together. The idea of people depending on me all the time kinda freaks me out."

Dean tilted his head. "I depend on you all the time."

You froze for half a second before keep stirring the soup, trying not to let that sink in too deep. You poured a splash of heavy cream into the pot, watching it swirl into the broth like a tiny storm. "Yeah, but that's different. That's us."

"Uh-huh." He shifted, wincing. "And what exactly do you think a housewife does?"

"Be perfect?" you guessed. "Know all the right things? Handle everything without panicking?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, so like Bobby."

"Shut up! You'll make me burn the soup. Just… don't distract me with these topics." You laughed, shaking your head as you decreased the heat. You reached for the celery, chopping it into small pieces before tossing it into the pot with a satisfying plop, finally with a flick of your wrist, you sprinkled in a generous pinch of salt and pepper, giving the pot a quick stir. Then you wiped your hands on a paper towel, surveying your handiwork. The soup was coming along, a slow-simmering concoction of broth, vegetables, and herbs. A warm, homey scent curled through the air. You put the pan lid on, accidentally dropping the lid on the pan loudly before you fixed it.

Dean flinched against the unexpected loud noise that was heard.

You turned to him. "Did you just—?"

"I didn't flinch." he said quickly, hugging the pillow.

You raised an eyebrow. "Dean, it's just a sound."

"Yeah, well, it was loud."

You hid your grin and started to tidy the dishes, letting him keep his dignity, or what was left of it at least. It was quiet for a moment, just the sound of bubbling broth and whatever dumb reality show Dean had landed on. You figured he'd be fine for at least thirty seconds.

And then—

"GAH!"

You whirled around to find Dean half-off the bed, eyes huge, you nearly dropped the spoon you were about to wash. "Dean?!"

"What? What is it?" you asked, heart pounding.

Dean lifted a shaking hand and pointed at the TV. "Oh my God. Y/N. That was—" He swallowed thickly, visibly trembling. "That was so messed up."

You squinted at the screen.

It was My Little Pony.

…You've gotta be kidding me.

"…Dean."

"They stared at me, Y/N," he whispered. "With those big, dead eyes."

You blinked. "The… ponies?"

"Yes, the ponies!" His voice was an octave higher than normal. "That pink one was too happy, like… Like, she seemed… nuts—happy. That was scary…"

You pressed your lips together, exhaling through your nose. "Dean. It's a children's cartoon."

"I don't care if it is a cartoon at the first glance, that is a psychological horror show!" He rubbed his arms like he was cold. "No way kids watch that and come out normal."

Ouch. Rude much? Patience, Y/N. Not a great time to argue about one of your favorite childhood cartoons.

You sighed and turned back to your tidying. "Just… pick something else."

A few moments of silence.

Then:

"OH, HELL NO!"

Your head snapped up just in time to see Dean fling the remote across the room. It bounced off the wall and landed with a thud on the carpet.

You gaped at him. "Dean! What now?"

He was breathing hard, practically pressed against the headboard. "A COMMERCIAL CAME ON."

You waited… He didn't elaborate?

"…A commercial for what, exactly?"

Dean shook his head, traumatized. "Headache pills.”

You stared. "You're scared of pills now?"

"They were listing side effects, Y/N." His voice was hushed like he was revealing a terrible secret. "Side effects."

You bit your bottom lip to not laugh and leaned against the counter. "Dean, side effects are on, like, every medication—"

"ONE OF THEM WAS DEATH, Y/N! AND I TOOK ONE EARLIER!"

You sighed, rubbing your temple. "Dean, I promise you are not going to die from headache pills."

"YOU CAN'T PROVE THAT."

And that was it. You couldn't hold it in anymore. You burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the motel room like it had no business being that loud. Dean just stared at you, wide-eyed and offended.

"You think this is funny?" he hissed, like you just personally betrayed him. "This is life or death, Y/N!"

You snorted, trying to reign it in, but the sheer absurdity of the situation had a chokehold on you. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry,it's just… Dean, you're literally the guy who laughs in the face of actual death. Ghosts, demons, werewolves— you name it. But today, a sock, a cartoon pony, and a bottle of pills are your mortal enemies."

Dean glared, but it was hard to take seriously when his hair was sticking up like he just wrestled with the blanket and lost. "Hey, those ponies were unnatural. And don't even get me started on side effects. Internal bleeding, Y/N. Internal. Bleeding."

You chuckled, grabbing a bowl from the counter and ladling some of the soup into it. "Here. Eat this before you spiral into thinking the spoon's out to get you too."

He eyed the bowl like it might explode but took it anyway. You plopped down on the edge of the bed, watching him blow on the soup carefully.

"See? Not so bad, right?" you teased, nudging his leg with your foot.

Dean took a cautious sip, then sighed like you just handed him the elixir of life. "Okay, I'll admit… This is freakin' good." He shot you a sideways glance. "Suspiciously good. You sure you didn't put anything weird in it?"

You placed a hand over your heart and spoke with a fake offended voice. "Wow. Accusing your loving girlfriend of poisoning you. That's rich."

Dean pointed his spoon at you. "Hey, I've seen Hansel and Gretel, okay? Witches making suspiciously good food? Classic setup."

You rolled your eyes, scooting back against the headboard. "Right, because if I wanted to fatten you up and eat you, I totally would've waited two years into our relationship to do it."

Dean took another sip, visibly relaxing with every bite. "Could be a long con."

You smirked. "If I wanted to kill you, Dean, trust me, I wouldn't use soup."

Dean paused, spoon hovering in mid-air, before he slowly turned his head to squint at you. "…That was an unsettling thing to say."

You batted your eyelashes innocently. "Was it?"

Dean huffed, and scooped up another spoonful, chewing.

He talked after seemingly getting lost in thoughts for a while. "Y'know… If you really don't think you'd be good at the whole domestic thing, you should know— being perfect at it ain't the point."

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone and topic. "What do you mean?"

Dean shrugged, keeping his eyes on the soup. "I mean, you don't have to be some apron-wearing, 'dinner's ready when you walk through the door, honey' type for that whole 'apple pie life' to work. You already take care of people, Y/N. Not just with food, but… with the way you are." He gestured vaguely, wiping his lips with a napkin. "You make things feel… safe."

Your chest tightened at that.

Dean cleared his throat. "And, I mean, hell, if we're talking responsibilities? You think I keep track of bills? Babe, that's Sam. If it were up to me, we'd be in jail for tax fraud or something."

That earned a laugh from you. "Yeah, I believe that. And thanks for saying those, but still…"

"But nothing," he cut in. "You care, Y/N. You give a damn. And you fight for it. That's what matters. The rest? That's just details."

You gulped and looked at him as your heart did a ridiculous little flip. "You make it sound so simple."

Dean shrugged. "'Cause it is. You and me? We've handled worse than taxes."

You snorted, finally looking up at him. "That is… an accurate point."

"Damn right it is." His smirk softened, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against your hip. "So stop freaking out. You're doin' just fine." He pulled you to his side and kissed your forehead. Your brain short-circuited for a second at the casual intimacy of it all. But as you stared at him—his usual confidence, the way he looked at you like he knew you better than you knew yourself— you felt some of the weight on your shoulders lift, you hummed and nodded. Wanting to believe him.

Dean finished the last of his soup with a satisfied hum, setting the empty bowl on the nightstand. He still looked like hell —fidgety, tired eyes darting toward every shadow like they held inevitable traps— but hey, at least he wasn't actively jumping stupid things. That was something.

You reached over and tugged the blankets up around him. "See? A full stomach makes everything better."

Dean exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. "Yeah, well… I'm still dying, so."

You gave him a flat look. "You're not dying."

"You don't know that." he muttered, shifting under the covers, eyes flicking towards the TV away from you.

You sighed, setting the remote out of his reach. "Sam and Bobby are handling it. They're gonna find the ghost, and you'll be fine."

Dean didn’t respond right away. His fingers curled into the fabric of the blanket, his jaw tight. You knew this kind of quiet. It wasn't just the sickness messing with him— it was the vulnerability. The kind he hated. The kind that made him feel small. And maybe even the memories that haunted him from back in Hell. Yeah. Dean was stubborn, insisting that he doesn't remember anything from Hell but you had your doubts rightfully — because of the regular nightmares he woke up from in the middle of the night and the unexplainable, gloomy look of him in general. But you didn't push him to admit it, not yet. And you weren't going to do it now, absolutely. Not when he was a heart attack away from the tiniest death.

Without thinking much, you scooted closer, wrapping an arm around him. His body tensed for half a second before he melted against you, burying his face into your chest with a heavy sigh.

"Everything's gonna be okay…" you murmured, resting your chin on top of his head.

Dean huffed a quiet breath, his eyes slipping shut. "Hope so. Kinda tired of being a little bitch."

You smirked, curling into him. "Kinda? Babe, I love you, but today was tragic."

Dean let out a low groan, burying his face in your chest. "Ugh. Never living this down, am I?"

"Not a chance." You grinned, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Sam's gonna be the easy part. Beware of your girl. I'm never gonna let go of your Pinkie-Pie-Phobia."

Dean stiffened in your arms, pulling back just enough to squint at you. "The hell is a Pinkie Pie?"

You grinned. "The pink pony you were terrified of."

Dean blinked, then recoiled like you just slapped him with the word. "You're tellin' me that thing— that creepy, serial-killer-smiling thing— has a name?"

"Oh, they all have names."

"Jesus Christ." He rubbed a hand down his face, looking like he aged ten more years. "Of course, they do."

You bit back another laugh, deciding to push your luck. "Pinkie Pie's actually really sweet. She's good to her friends, throws a lot of parties—"

"I don't care! What if she's got hobbies? That doesn't make her less terrifying." he said, voice hoarse but full of indignation, "also that little demon horse does not deserve the 'Pie' title."

You blinked at him, then let out a wheezy laugh. "Wait— what?"

"You heard me! Pie is warm. Pie is good. That thing? That thing is a menace. She ain't worthy of the name."

You clamped a hand over your mouth to keep from wheezing. "Dean, oh my God."

"I’m serious, Y/N!" He huffed and clung to you tighter. "That thing looks like it was made in a lab specifically to drive people insane. Don't trust her. Nobody's that happy all the time without something sinister going on."

You were crying now. Actually crying. "Dean Winchester, you absolute menace. You're literally beefing with a cartoon pony."

Dean scoffed. "Damn right I am. And I'm winning."

Before you could inform him that no, he was absolutely not winning against a fictional pink horse, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

You unlocked the screen and, and behold, Sam's name lit up in a new text.

Sammy : Ghost's toast. You're good, stop being a wuss now 👍🏻

Sammy : Bobby says you owe him beer

Sammy : Y/N, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid while readjusting to normal life

You smirked, nudging Dean. "You're free. No more ghost sickness. Your dignity, however, is long gone."

Dean perked up immediately. "Wait— seriously?!" He snatched the phone, scanning the message like he expected you to be lying. His whole body sagged in relief. "Oh, thank God."

"See? Told you everything would be okay." You leaned back against the pillows, stretching with a satisfied sigh.

Dean pushed himself up and —before you could react— hooked his arms under your legs and back, effortlessly scooping you up into his arms bridal style.

"DEAN!" you squeaked, instinctively grabbing onto his shoulders. "What are you—"

"Getting you off your feet," he said simply, carrying you towards the kitchen with steady strides. "You've been fussin' over me all day, and it's my turn to take care of you now."

You blinked up at him, momentarily surprised by the sheer effortlessness of it all. "But I—"

"Nope," he interrupted, giving you a playful squeeze. "You became the mother-hen enough. Now it's time to sit your pretty ass down and enjoy some pie."

Before you could argue, he set you down onto the kitchen counter gently, his hands lingering on your waist. His fingers drummed playfully against your sides. "There. Now, stay."

You squinted at him. "Did you just command me like a dog?"

"Yup." He turned toward the pie, grabbing two forks.

He handed you a fork and plucked a generous bite of pie for himself, moaning dramatically the second it hit his tongue.

"Oh, baby, that's the good stuff." he groaned, swaying slightly like he'd just been spiritually enlightened. "You're an angel, y'know that?"

…

Your fingers stilled on his arm.

"Did you just… Did you just call me an angel?"

Dean squinted. "Yeah? And?"

Your smirk grew. "You hate angels."

Dean groaned, throwing his head back. "Aw, c'mon, Y/N, don't start—"

"You literally go on rants about how much you can't stand them," you continued, grinning now. "You've called them dicks in trench coats, winged bastards, self-righteous flying monkeys— need I go on?"

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face, his fingers dragging down to his jaw like he could physically pull the embarrassment off his skin. "Okay," he grumbled, "that was a figure of speech."

You leaned in, resting your chin on your hand, all faux innocence. "So what you're saying is… I'm a figure of speech angel?"

Dean's eyes narrowed, but the twitch of his lips betrayed him. "You know what, smartass?" He reached over to the nightstand and snatched the half-eaten slice of pie, wielding it like a weapon. "You're gonna eat this and shut it."

Your eyes widened. "Dean—"

But it was too late. He was already shoving a forkful of pie, and before you could dodge, it was in your mouth, sweet and warm and way too good to argue against.

You glared at him, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk, and he laughed heartly.

"Mmph!" you tried to protest, but your mouth was too full of pie.

Dean grinned all dimples. "What's that, sweetheart? Can't hear you over the sound of deliciousness."

You chewed quickly, swallowing the absurdly large bite with a dramatic gulp. "You're the worst."

"Yeah?" Dean's eyes gleamed mischievously, and before you could blink, he leaned in, lips crashing against yours in a very messy, very pie-flavored kiss. His lips were warm and soft, but the kiss was anything but gentle— sticky and sweet from the pie. You could taste the sugary filling on his tongue, the buttery crust lingering between you as he deepened the kiss, tilting his head to slot his mouth perfectly against yours. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left to breathe, not that you needed air when he was kissing you like that. You tangled your fingers in his hair, nails grazing his scalp enough to make him groan, the sound making your heart stutter. When he finally pulled back, both of you breathless and grinning like idiots, his thumb brushed a stray smear of saliva and filling from the corner of your mouth, and without breaking eye contact, he licked it off his thumb with a wink that made your knees weak.

Damn him.

[beautyandlifestyleblog86]

Healthy Metabolism-Boosting Salmon and Veggie Bowl

Ingredients:

- 1 lb salmon fillet

- 1 tbsp olive oil

- 1/2 tsp dried oregano

- 1/4 tsp salt

- 1/4 tsp black pepper

- 1 cup broccoli florets

- 1 cup Brussels sprouts, trimmed and halved

- 1/2 cup chopped red onion

- 1 cup cooked brown rice

- 1 tbsp lemon juice

- 1 tbsp chopped fresh parsley (optional)

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 400°F (200°C).

2. In a small bowl, mix together olive oil, oregano, salt, and pepper.

3. Place salmon in a baking dish and brush with the marinade.

4. Toss broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and red onion with the remaining marinade.

5. Spread the vegetables around the salmon in the baking dish.

6. Bake for 20-25 minutes until salmon is cooked through and vegetables are tender-crisp.

7. Serve salmon and vegetables over cooked brown rice.

8. Drizzle with lemon juice and garnish with parsley (optional).

This recipe is full of nutrients to support a healthy metabolism, including protein from salmon, healthy fats from omega-3s, B vitamins from brown rice, fiber from vegetables, and essential micronutrients. Enjoy this delicious and nutritious meal!

[chongoblog]

Not to be the idiot who only comes into your askbox for recipes, but can you share the beef stroganoff recipe

No problem! I got it from my mother, who got it from her mother who passed shortly after I was born, so I got her blessing to share it. I'll be going closely to the original wording of the recipe with a few asides in parentheses for how I learned it/some of my own personal touches.

First you get your steak (specifically stew meat) and cut them into thin strips. Dust them with flour and a pepper (my personal strat is to put the meat in a zipped up gallon bag with roughly a third-cup of flour and some pepper and SHAKE THAT BAD BOY).

Melt a 1/4 cup of margarine into a skillet (Important step. I forgot the fully melt it last time I did this which caused the meat to stick to the skillet and burn). Once it's melted, put the meat into the skillet and brown it. Mix in a chopped onion (and mushrooms yeeeeeeeaaaaah mushrooms baby!!) and a chopped clove of garlic (I also personally advocate for adding garlic salt but that's just because I love garlic salt)

Once it's all mixed up, stir in a can of beef broth (about 2 cups). Cover it and let it simmer for an hour until tender.

Then you stir in a cup of sour cream and let it cook for 5 minutes. Then serve that over egg noodles. Boom. Beef stroganoff.

I've got some cooking right now, so I'll post pictures when it's done!

[sincerestlove]

Kitchen Cravings

i couldn't get this out of my head so i had to write it. please let me know what you think - i’d love to start writing more frequently for emily and jj - if anyone is interested, please let me know.

i hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Reader

Warnings: SMUT 18+ - MEN & MINORS DNI.

~

Moonlight filtered through the curtains, washing the bedroom in a faint glow. You and Emily had just finished round four? Five? You lost count after 2, barely able to think nor speak coherently. You were now cuddled up together, Emily brushing her warm fingertips gently up and down your spine as you drew lazy shapes into the soft skin of her chest.

"Hey, baby, are you hungry yet?"

Emily hums at your question, and she takes a moment to consider. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until now, but after you mention it, she can feel her stomach rumbling. "Yeah, I am, actually. Why, you thinking about food?"

"Mhm, since we haven't eaten anything since breakfast."

"Yeah, I guess we have been pretty busy..." The brunette smiles slyly and leans in to whisper in your ear. "You know what I'm craving right now, love?"

"Hm?"

Emily's voice is low and sultry as she speaks, her lips brushing against your ear. "You." She grins and nibbles playfully at your earlobe, her hand moving down to rest on your hip.

You groan dramatically, nudging her legs with your foot. "Back, you sex heathen. You wore me out."

Your wife grins at your words, feeling a sense of satisfaction at being able to exhaust you so thoroughly. She runs her fingers along your side, enjoying the feeling of the soft skin under her hands. "I did, huh? Well, I suppose I should make sure you get something to eat.”

"Yes, please. Your wife is hungry."

Emily laughs, feeling a surge of affection for you. She plants a quick kiss on your forehead, then pushes back the covers and climbs out of bed. You can’t help but drag your eyes along her naked form, muscles straining as she stretches her arms over her head. Her dark hair was mused and slightly tangled from all of the tugging you were doing on it, lips a pretty pink and swollen. She tugs a loose, large t-shirt over her head, the hem falling just above her knees. “Okay, love. I'll head down to the kitchen and whip something up for you. Any special requests?"

You shrug nonchalantly. “I’ll come with you. I like watching you cook." You yawn, before standing up and putting on your silky black lounge robe, tying it loosely in the front. Slivers of your skin were exposed, Emily’s eyes greedily taking in every inch. “And I’m fine with anything, baby."

She takes your hand, leading you both out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen. "Perfect. I love when you keep me company in the kitchen."

Once you enter, Emily leaves you at the counter and starts opening the cabinets and fridge, taking stock of the food you both have on hand. She turns, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Hmm, let's see... Do you feel like something light, or something more substantial? How hungry are you?"

"Well, you made me come like five times, so, yeah, I could eat something substantial.”

Emily laughs loudly. "I can work with that. How does pasta sound? I've got a recipe for a spicy tomato sauce that I've been wanting to try out."

"Sounds perfect."

Emily nods, feeling pleased that her idea has been approved by her hungry wife. She starts rummaging through the kitchen, gathering the ingredients she needs. "Okay, pasta it is. Be a good girl for me, yeah? Sit there and look pretty while I cook."

You grin. "I think I can do that."

Emily laughs, loving the way you respond to her teasing. She sets up a pot of water to boil, then starts chopping up onions and garlic to sauté in a pan. You watch as she moves effortlessly around the kitchen, chopping the vegetables with skill and ease. "Of course you can. You're very good at looking pretty, love." She says, shooting you a wink over her shoulder.

"Yeah? You think I'm pretty?"

Emily turns to face you, her gaze roaming over your face and figure. Her expression is tender and affectionate, almost reverent, a small smile on her lips. "Absolutely. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

You coo at her sweet words, her smile turning a little more intense, eyes lingering on your form. The way you look wrapped up in that loose robe, bare legs exposed, is very distracting. Emily feels the stirring of desire flare up in her stomach, but she does her best to push it down and focus on the task at hand.

She turns back to the stove, where the onions and garlic are sizzling away in the pan. She takes a deep breath, trying to focus her mind completely on cooking and ignore the distraction of her very attractive and very accessible wife sitting just a few feet away in a very thin robe.

She starts adding tomatoes, marinara and spices to the pan, stirring and mixing them in. She can feel your eyes on her back, and it's getting increasingly difficult for her to maintain her focus instead of turning around and pushing you against the counter.

"The, um, the water should be boiling soon. I'll add the pasta in and then the food will be ready." Emily stumbles slightly over her words, glancing over her shoulder to see you already staring, grinning at her like a cheshire cat. Your head rests casually on your hand, eyes dragging slowly down Emily’s form. There’s a twinkle in your eyes, one that she knows too well.

The pot of water starts boiling, and Emily takes it as an opportunity to turn away from you and pour the pasta into the colander, successfully draining the water, before adding it to the saucepan. She stirs, making sure that the noodles are coated evenly in sauce. She can still feel your eyes on her, and her skin prickles with anticipation.

"You almost done over there, baby?"

Your question snaps Emily out of her thoughts, and she looks over at you with a mix of frustration and hunger in her gaze. "Almost. Just, um, just another minute or two."

After a few more minutes, the food is ready, but Emily is so distracted that she continues to mindlessly stir the sauce. You smirk at the sight.

"Done?"

Emily nods jerkily. She reaches out to turn off the heat on the stove, her hands shaking. "Oh. Yeah, I'm done."

You push away from the counter, sauntering toward the fridge. You intentionally squeeze past the tight space between the counter and your wife, brushing your body against her back, hands teasingly skimming the exposed skin.

Without even realizing it, one of Emily's hands reaches out, her fingers lightly tracing along your hip. She can feel your warmth through the flimsy fabric.

She steps closer, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind and pulling herself flush against her body. She nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of your skin, every inch of contact sending jolt after jolt of desire right through her.

Y/N smirks, craning her neck to nuzzle her nose into Emily’s skin, taking in the faint scent of her sweet perfume. "Let's go eat, love. Don't want the food to get cold, right?"

Emily groans, her hands clenching slightly on your hips as she forces herself to hold back. She wants to press you up against the kitchen counter and take you right there, but she knows she needs to wait. "Tease."

Emily reluctantly moves to the cabinet and pulls down two plates. She can still feel the ghost of your body against hers, the way your bodies were pressed flush together. The sensation is burned into her skin, her mind swimming with the memory of that heat and that desire. She carefully scoops a serving of pasta onto your plate, trying to keep her hands steady as she does.

You smile as you take the plate, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to your wife’s lips. "Thanks, baby."

"You're welcome," Emily murmurs, her voice a little huskier than usual. She watches as you take the plate to the table, her eyes tracking your movement.

As you sit down, you slide Emily a drink from across the table, her favorite seltzer, before scooping a hefty spoonful of parmesan cheese onto your pasta.

Emily picks up her own fork and tries to focus on her food, but it's hard to concentrate on anything other than the sight of you sitting across from her. She can feel the heat pooling in her stomach, her body practically aching to touch you, to feel your skin against hers again.

You watch Emily intently as she eats, smirking at the way she struggles to restrain herself. You let your robe slip a bit more down your shoulders, exposing the top of your breasts to Emily’s darkened, blown out eyes.

You can hear how her breath hitches in her throat as you make that small movement, revealing more of your bare skin. Emily's eyes rake over the newly exposed flesh, her mouth going dry at the sight. It's almost too much to bear, the sight of her wife's body nearly bared to her. She grips the edge of the table tightly, her knuckles going white with the effort it takes to hold herself back.

You grin over the top of your drink. "You okay over there?"

Emily takes a deep and shaky breath, her eyes still locked on your body. She's breathing heavily, practically shaking with desire and need. "I'm fine," She says, her voice ragged and hoarse. "I just... I need you. Like, right now. And that robe is not helping things at all."

"What? This thing?" You intentionally slip it further down, fully exposing your breasts and hardened nipples to your wife.

Emily can't tear her gaze away from the sight of you lounging before her, exposed and provocative. Her eyes rake over every inch of your body like she’s starved, taking in the curves and the dips, the planes and the lines. It's like pouring gasoline on the flames of her desire, the primal need inside her growing hotter and fiercer with every passing second.

"Are you going to just sit there, or you going to come over here and do something about all that pent up tension you’re feeling?"

Without another word, Emily lets her fork clatter onto her plate and pushes herself up from the table, stalking around it with a predatory grace, her eyes fixed on you the whole time. She's like a panther closing in on its prey, her movements slow and purposeful. She stands over you, looking down, drinking in the sight of your bare skin up close. Her eyes rake over your body hungrily, heart pounding in her chest.

You smiles up at her teasingly, allowing the robe to fall open fully.

Emily’s eyes feast on the sight, taking in every inch of your newly exposed skin, every contour and curve. Her body is thrumming with desire, the need to touch and taste you driving her mad. She steps even closer, her hands itching to reach out and touch you, to stroke your soft skin.

"Are you just going to stare, honey?"

At your challenge, Emily's last shred of self-control snaps. Without warning, she moves forward, pulling you out of your chair and pinning you up against the closest wall, her body pressing flush against yours. Her hands roam greedily over your bare skin, taking ownership of your body, hot and smooth under her touch. Emily's mouth captures yours in a fierce, hungry kiss, their tongues tangling in a possessive, dominating gesture.

You laugh breathily as your mouths separate, grabbing Emily’s hands and placing them on your bare hips. Her blunt nails dig into your skin, the light sting of her grip leaving small crescents in their wake. “There she is."

Emily grunts in response, trailing hungry kisses down your neck, nipping and biting at the sensitive skin.

"Finally snapped, huh? What did it for you, baby? Was it the robe?"

Emily's lips move up to your ear, her tongue tracing the outer shell. Her breath is hot against your skin as she speaks, her voice low and rough with desire and need. “I asked you to sit there and look pretty, not tease me in this fuckin’ robe." She groans again, biting gently on your earlobe. “Couldn’t help but make you mine.”

You grin, moaning as she feels Emily’s lips and tongue on her skin. "You know I’m already yours, Em."

"I know, but sometimes I can't help myself. I just need to remind you."

You slink your arms over Emily’s strong shoulders, leaning close to whisper in her ear. "Remind me then."

Emily's hands begin to wander, roaming over your body once again with a desperate, hungry need. She tangles her fingers in your hair, pulling your head back sharply so she can attack your neck again, biting and sucking, leaving dark purple marks as she goes, eventually moving down and landing on your hardened buds. She takes one into her warm mouth, sucking harshly, her slender fingers tugging on the other.

You groan in desperation, grabbing Emily’s hand and shoving it between your legs, as you hold her head to her chest. Emily laughs teasingly at your movements, deciding to have mercy and run her fingers through your pussy.

Her hand is immediately drenched, the feel of your wetness driving her nearly insane. She moans against your chest as her fingers run through your folds, touch hungry and urgent. “Someone’s excited.”

Her mouth trails kisses across your chest, fingers pressing and rubbing teasingly against your sensitive flesh.

You moan breathily, throwing your head back against the wall as you grinds down on your wife’s hand, chasing your pleasure.

“Look at you, sweet thing. Flushed, desperate, needy. All that teasing for what? If you wanted to be fucked, you could’ve just asked.” Emily grins cockily at you, stuffing two fingers inside of your dripping hole.

She revels in the feeling of you grinding against her hand, the sounds of your moans and sighs. Her hand begins to move faster. She knows exactly how to drive you wild, exactly how to elicit these sounds and reactions from her wife. She's single-minded in her pursuit of your pleasure, her own need and desire feeding into the primal drive to make you fall apart in her hands. She feels almost drunk on you - your scent, your skin, your sounds - it’s all encompassing.

You moan loudly, almost pornographically, at the pleasure roaring through your veins. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, biting down harshly on your lip, feeling your orgasm quickly approaching as Emily’s thumb finds your clit, pressing down and circling harshly. She pushes her fingers even further inside you, nudging that sweet, spongy spot.

She grins against your shoulder, her fingers continuing their relentless onslaught. She can feel the tension building, the way your body is shaking and trembling against hers. She knows you’re close, she can feel it in the way your body is responding to her touch, the way your moans and gasps are becoming more desperate and ragged, chest heaving.

"Fuck, I’m close, baby, please-" Your voice breaks off at the end, squeezing your eyes shut and gripping onto her shoulders tightly, the taut muscles flexing under your hands.

Emily smirks. "You're begging so prettily, baby. You wanna come?" You nod desperately. "Yeah?"Her fingers move even faster still, her touch rougher. Her mouth moves to your ear, voice a low, husky whisper. "Come on, pretty girl. Come for me. Make a mess on my hand.”

With a final, sharp twist of her fingers, you finally cry out, your body shuddering against Emily's as ecstasy washes over you. She continues to caress and stroke you, helping you ride out the wave of your orgasm, her touch gentler now, as you squeeze her fingers inside you.

Emily keeps you pressed against the wall as you come down from your high, her hand still between your legs, gently stroking the sensitive flesh. She watches with satisfaction as you pant and whimper, body still twitching and shaking with the lingering pleasure of your orgasm. You swear you could see stars in your eyes.

After a few moments, Emily slowly withdraws her hand, bringing it up to her mouth and deliberately licking her fingers clean. The sight makes you shiver, another wave of arousal bubbling deep in your belly.

Emily kisses you deeply, tugging on your bottom lip as she pulls back slightly. "I'm not done with you yet, love."

You bark out a laugh, gently nudging your wife by her shoulders. "Jesus Christ woman, give me a break - I nearly passed out just now."

Emily laughs, nuzzling her nose into your hair and pressing a kiss there. After closing your robe, she takes you into her arms gently, ushering you to sit on the couch. “Sit down, love. Let me get your dinner so you can finish it.”

You sigh deeply as you plop yourself down on the couch, legs spread lazily, resting your head over the back cushion. Boneless and spent, you allow your eyes to slip shut momentarily as Emily gathers your plate and fork, bringing it back to you.

“Here you go, babe.” As you open your eyes and lift your head, the brunette places your bowl and fork in your hand, smiling sweetly at you.

“Where’s your food?”

“I put it in the fridge, I’ll eat it later." Emily lowers herself to her knees in front of you, never breaking eye contact. "Right now, I’m hungry for something else.” She brushes her hair out of her face before she places her warm hands on your already spread thighs, squeezing lightly.

You mouth falls open at the erotic sight, feeling your skin tingle. You were at an utter loss for words, watching as she grabbed underneath your knees, pulling you closer to her mouth.

“You are going to eat your food, and I’m going to eat you. If you don’t finish first, I’m going to edge you all night. I won’t be nice either, and you won’t get to come. Got me?”

Oh.

She looks at you, brow raised, waiting for an answer. “I…okay. Yeah.” You manage to breathe out, picking up your fork and hurriedly finishing your plate.

Emily grins, as she brings her mouth to you, warm and wet.

“Good girl.”

~

i will be opening my requests again soon - as always, please let me know who it's for and be as detailed as possible. thank you and i hope you liked this one! :)