˚₊‧꒰ 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆. "i don't look good in this dress..." – all
"you're sleeping on the couch tonight." – all
take my cock, milady ! – all [nsfw]
my online pervert – all [nsfw]
"fanfiction is slop" discourse on my twt tl again...
god i hate pretentious cunts who claim that "some art is better than others" and by "some art" are referring to published literary classics that would've been shat on in equal measure had these same pretentious cunts believed they were posted on ao3.
the funny part is that they critique and scorn popular fanfiction quotes while failing to provide examples of "actually good writing" in fear of them being indistinguishable from the quotes they just scoffed at.
my experience in the lads tumblr community has been nothing short of wonderful. i'll forever cherish the breathtaking™ friends i've made, the hilarious reblogs i've read, the prize-winning fics i've devoured... while writing can be exhausting at times, there's nothing more fulfilling than interacting with other like minds and doing what i love in the form of written prose.
that being said, i've been incredibly lucky—others have not been as fortunate. albeit rare, there are horrible, toxic blogs lurking in this community; the same ones who send anonymous hate messages and shit on women for enjoying themselves in spaces that are supposed to be "safe".
one of my favorite blogs received a hate comment about their latest fic, sent by the same anon who'd rushed them to complete said fic. this happened a month ago, and they haven't updated their blog since. it's heartbreaking.
of course, this has nothing to do with their writing whatsoever. toxic blogs are everywhere, and can pop up in anyone's inbox / dms. hate is never exclusive—some of are just lucky enough to have received less of it, and for the time being.
please send your love and support to those who you know are being / have been harassed by rude blogs. please condemn these blogs for their behavior. and please, please be kind to others. you never know how much weight your words can carry. being part of a community is more than just posting or liking or replying. we have to look out for one another and lift each other up, for at the end of the day, we're all just trying to coexist in a safe space where we're free to do / consume what we love.
You think chef sylus is chef Ramsey mean or more of an Anthony bourdain
bourdain for sure. he’s not very explosive in the sense that he rarely yells like a lunatic—most of his insults are delivered sarcastically and in a deadly controlled fashion 😅 that being said, he gets annoyed almost every second and everyone is so terrified of him you’d get the same reactions out of them as you would ramsey’s chefs 🫠
Hi um a bit of a goofy question but about your hogwarts prompt, who do you think would befriend/gang with the main trio and who would find harry, hermione, and Ron annoying lol
oof good question lemme think about this one 🤔
xavier gets along well with harry, given that they’re both a little reserved, and by association end up hanging out with ron. he finds hermione kind of annoying at first because she’s an outspoken know-it-all, but her arrogance simply mirrors his and he doesn’t like it. he eventually warms up to her, learns to respect her, and eventually befriends her as well.
zayne is equally reserved but finds it harder to make it past the initial getting-to-know-someone stage. he’s not a very judgmental person, so i don’t imagine he has very strong opinions on any of his classmates. he probably knows hermione’s intellect to be on par with his, and they’d surely share some deep, interesting conversations, but i doubt he has much in common with harry and ron.
sylus is a wildcard, because while he doesn’t particularly dislike the main trio, they are definitely annoyed by him—at least to a certain degree. hermione mocks his broody, mysterious public image and harry (who hasn’t met him) doesn’t know how to feel about slytherins in general, especially those who are pure-blooded and come from wealthy wizarding families. ron is slightly terrified of him.
caleb is a friend of theirs, as close to them as neville and seamus are. he joins dumbledore’s army without hesitation and eats with them in the great hall from time to time. he’s closer to harry and ron than he is to hermione—mainly because most of the gryffindor boys have more time to bond in their dorm rooms (they’re up to all sorts of shit before bedtime).
rafayel flirts with hermione, and she hates it. so, naturally, ron hates it as well. not harry tho—he finds it kind of amusing. harry laughs at raf’s random jokes in class and thinks he’s a pretty chill guy, though they’d probably never grow too close given their vastly different personalities. he does join dumbledore’s army, though, which harry is grateful for.
Burning the crème brûlée for the nth time on purpose so head chef sylus can quickly approach me and whisper my dismissal in my ear while a growl slips through his gritted teeth and
I came across your work (the sex pollen one) and I really loved how you wrote the five LIs 🥹 I was happy to see that you're open to requests 🫶
Can I request for drabbles on how you think the guys would tell you to take a break from working / studying too much? 🤲 (currently in thesis hell and I've been looking for comfort fics 😮💨)
thank u for the food you've been cooking and currently cooking 💐
take a break with me ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: sylus, zayne, rafayel, xavier, caleb x fem!reader
— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: fluff, some innuendo, flirtatious / suggestive touching, reader is BURNT OUT and exhausted, fortunately for you he can be very persuasive
— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: busy woman – sabrina carpenter
✧ a/n: thank u sm for the req pookie!! i hope this brings u some comfort amidst this very busy time for u... all the best with ur thesis—and please remember to drink water and sleep well okay! <3
So it turns out you’ve bitten off more than you can chew—nothing new there. God, this thesis is taking forever. You’ve been working your ass off this past month, multitasking and side-questing and taking care of things your peers somehow find themselves unable to.
You long to be able to relax again, but it doesn’t look like you’ll be taking some time off anytime soon. You don’t believe in doing things halfway, and when it comes to your craft, every little bit of effort counts—at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself to keep your engine running. You’re basically a machine at this point, running on autopilot and dreading the moment your body finally gives out for good…
“What are you working on, sweetie?” Sylus’ deep, gravelly voice slithers into the living room where you’re hunched over the dining table, your head drooping against a laptop.
You’re startled awake, but shake it off quickly. “Oh—hey. No rest for the wicked, am I right?” you smile wryly, suppressing a yawn.
He walks up to you and places a hand on your shoulder, massaging it gently. Squinting at the screen, he frowns. “There are five other people working on this document with you. Strange how none of them seem to be online…” A dark expression crosses his features as he takes in the equally dark circles under your eyes. “Doing the dirty work, love?”
The edge in his voice is unmistakable. Others would be intimidated, but your heart only warms at his concern.
“It’s fine, Sy. I stand to benefit, after all. Besides, hard work pays off—we both know that.”
His piercing gaze roves over your limp, exhausted state, and he raises a challenging eyebrow. Sardonically, he states, “It doesn’t look like you’re benefiting right now.” He brings his other hand to the back of your neck and rubs harder, smoothing out your tensed muscles with impressive skill.
Instantly, endorphins flood your brain, and you relax into his touch. “That feels good, Sy…”
He leans in close and whispers in your ear, “Take a break with me, won’t you, Kitten? I can put that pretty ass to work in far more…productive ways…”
A shiver runs down your spine, and you feel your resolve slipping. “...Fine. But only for a little while,” you huff, fighting a smile.
“Don’t eat your words, sweetie.” The devastating smirk that twists his lips makes your knees weak. “Now, come with me. We’re going to get some ice cream.”
He really does take you to an ice cream parlor, and it’s the best ice cream you’ve ever had. (***interpret this how you will)
“You’re up late.” The front door swings open as Zayne enters the living room, back from a gruelling twelve-hour shift at the hospital. He’s still in his lab coat as he kicks his shoes off and places his briefcase on the hall table.
“Oh, you know—the usual. Thesis needs to be fed.” You stretch your arms and yawn, blinking back the dryness in your eyes.
He takes the seat next to yours and leans over to examine the mess of words on your screen, sighing sympathetically at the workload you’ve been dealing with. “You did all this in one day?”
You nod, feeling proud despite every inch of your body screaming at you to take a nap.
“You’re overexerting yourself,” he says softly as his fingers play with a strand of your unruly hair. “Come to bed with me, will you?”
It’s inexplicable—the way he’s able to put you at ease without even trying. His mere presence brings you solace. His touch turns your brain to mush.
You scoff at him playfully. “You’re one to talk. If anything, I got these workaholic tendencies from you. You're a bad influence, babe.”
He feigns offence at your statement, which makes you laugh, but it quickly melts into genuine worry. “I’m concerned about you. I need to know you’re eating well—sleeping well, or I’ll go insane.”
You gaze into those earnest green eyes of his and know you’ve already lost. How could you resist his pleas when he’s looking at you like that? Reluctantly, you give in, closing your laptop and tidying the heap of papers and books away.
“Good girl. See? Was that so hard?” He places a tender kiss on your temple before heading for the shower. He calls over his shoulder, “Join me if you’d like.”
You’ve never sprinted faster in your life.
“Woah, you’re up early.” Rafayel’s fluffy bedroom slippers pad across the living room floor as he hums the melody of a Sabrina Carpenter song, beelining straight for the fridge.
“Good morning, Raf…” Your voice is strained, your throat dry as a desert.
He frowns at you, milk carton in hand. “Wait, did you pull an all-nighter? Without me?” He looks almost insulted, as if you spent the night partying instead of citing sources and correcting typos.
You stick your tongue out at him, but your movements are weak, half-hearted. He makes two bowls of cereal before walking over to you, his silky cream pajamas glistening in the sunlight.
“You should probably get some rest, you know… I don’t think it’s healthy for you to be staying up like this.”
You shrug. “It has to be done. When you’re a one-man show, the world needs you.”
The air of lightheartedness he usually carries is gone, replaced by unease and doubt. “Not that I think you’re incapable or anything, but… You need to relax a little, babe. You’re gonna pass out if you keep this up. And there are much better activities to be passing out from.”
His sneaky suggestion doesn’t escape you. “If other offers are on the table… Perhaps I could be convinced.” You lick your cereal spoon clean, slow and deliberate.
The fresh glint in his eye doesn’t escape you either, and in a single breath, he’s scooped you into his arms and carried you away from your dreaded laptop.
“Oh, you’re gonna be working real hard, alright.”
“You’ve been occupying my spot for hours.” It’s rare for Xavier to jab at you like that, so when he does, you make sure to match his energy in full force.
“What can I say? I just love this seat. Makes me feel like I’m sitting on you…”
He turns pink immediately, falling dead silent. So easy. Mirth bubbles up inside you, though you’re quickly reminded of the tasks at hand. Time is of the essence, and you can’t afford to waste even a second.
“…You’ve been busy lately,” he says after a moment. It comes out as a whisper—hesitant, yet curious. You briefly wonder if you haven’t been spending enough time with him. Guilt pangs in your chest.
“Yeah. I’ve been working on this thesis lately, and it’s…wow.”
He comes up behind you and, in a rush of warmth and cotton fuzz, wraps his arms around your shoulders. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck and sighs, and you melt into his embrace.
“I miss you. Please take a break for me.”
How could you say no? “…Sure, baby. But only for a couple of hours, okay?”
He nods, slipping his fingertips beneath the neckline of your shirt. “Only?”
You shudder, anticipation coiling deep in your stomach. It feels like you’re on the cusp of receiving a well-deserved academic award.
“Someone’s greedy today…”
His hands begin to explore, and suddenly none of the words on your screen make any sense. “You like it.”
“Whatcha’ doin’, Pips?” Caleb bounds into the living room, energized and uncharacteristically free. He must be taking a break from Flight Simulator.
“Writing my thesis. It’s…taking a while, to say the least.” You yawn like a cow and drop your head into your elbow, fighting the urge to doze off on the spot.
A cheeky grin pulls at his lips. “Wanna write your thesis in the bedroom?”
Although tempting, you push the thought back. Priorities, you remind yourself. “…I can’t. There’s a lot of work to be done, and—“
He sits down next to you and places a hand on your thigh, a hint of concern on his face. “Listen, honey, I know you’re a workaholic and want to push your mind and body to the limit and all—but this is unsustainable. You’ve gotta take breaks sometimes, and this is coming from a fighter pilot.”
You chuckle, warmth spreading in your chest. He always knows just what to say to calm you down, and you’re incredibly grateful for it. Who knew being acquainted with someone whose personality oscillates between annoying and mature could be so comforting?
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll take a sip of water or something.” You get up to pour yourself a glass of water, but he grabs you by the arm and effortlessly spins you around like a ballroom dancer, the placement of his hand on your waist making you giddy.
“Or, you could take a sip of water in the bedroom…” he nips at your earlobe, and you giggle.
“Stop that, Caleb— It’s ticklish—!”
He picks you up like you’re a teddy bear and whisks you away, the pile of books on the table long forgotten.
— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: you are the sheltered daughter of a powerful clan leader in edo period japan. beneath the boughs of the cherry blossom trees lurks a mysterious shadow who keeps you safe... 「as long as you remain where i can see you, that is all i care about. ∼ tomoe, kamisama kiss」
— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: love upon wings in your heart – hoyo-mix
✧ a/n: this was inspired by the otome game nightshade (2016), which i really enjoyed. i've always loved the setting of historical japan, so here's an imagining of our LIs as badass, mysterious samurai TT
RAFAYEL, the sneaky and playful samurai... He’s agile and swift as a breeze, always on the lookout for trouble. You spend half the day listening to your father berate him for toppling yet another basket of peaches, but he never stays angry for long. No one could—Rafayel’s tendency for mischief was annoyingly endearing. He was beloved by the whole clan, including you. You tease each other like crazy, which brings you an embarrassing amount of joy. Thanks to him, days spent locked up in the estate are less lonely. However, even good days come to an end. An assassin from an enemy clan escaped the notice of the guards one night, and you were snatched from your home like a bar of gold. Just when you were about to lose all hope of rescue, Rafayel burst through the doors and eliminated the whole squad of assassins, the look on his face one you had never seen before. “Anyone who touches you will have to face my wrath. There is nothing dearer to me in this world.”
CALEB, the protective and dedicated samurai... Being a few years older, he's always been like a big brother to you. He trains with the other young men, always cracking jokes and flashing that bright smile of his. But don't be fooled—this man possesses an unparalleled work ethic and commitment to his path. If anyone was destined to be a samurai, it's Caleb. He simply knows how to enjoy himself when he's off duty. If anyone were to ask him what he thought of you, he'd laugh and say you were like a little sister to him. You know better. Once, he caught you by the lake with one of his friends. He scolded you for being alone with a man who wasn’t him and frightened his friend so badly that he never spoke to you again. Sometimes he takes it too far, you think to yourself. But you don't know what you'd do without him. "You don't understand the dangers you'll be getting into if you leave. Trust me, I know better." When will he stop coddling me? "I can take care of myself." He sighs and pats you on the head. "And cherry blossoms are blue."
ZAYNE, the dutiful and reserved samurai... You see him from time to time, always in some kind of rush. He works for your father and spends most of his time dealing with the clan’s adversaries. He’s good at his job, and you understand that without him, your family would never be truly safe. You’ve tried to speak to him, to ask him what his favorite season is and how long he’s been working for your father, but he’s as serious and detached as a cold winter’s night. He merely stares at you as if deeming you unworthy of his time. This morning, you woke up at the break of dawn to catch the sunrise by the cherry blossom trees. How you long for some company—a friend or two. That’s when you see it in the corner of your eye, there one second and gone the next: the glint of a sword disappearing behind the nearest building. You don’t question who it was. “It was you, wasn’t it? Earlier this morning, by the trees?” He merely glances away, feigning disinterest. A blush creeps onto his face “If you’ll excuse me, I have important matters to attend to. Good day, my lady.”
XAVIER, the observant and efficient samurai... You’ve watched him train for years, the soft-spoken and no-nonsense mentor with a reputation for possessing the most impressive combat and stealth skills the clan has ever seen. He's usually sent on missions not to kill, but to spy—making him a silent but deadly threat to enemy clans and your father's most prized subordinate. As for you, you don't think very highly of him. Sure, he's an excellent fighter who also happens to be incredibly handsome and charming and cool, but what else does he have to offer? His answers are clipped, his tone condescending. He sure as hell doesn't care about you. He probably sees you as the troublesome, pampered daughter of his boss; just another disturbance he's forced to take care of. But why is it that you occasionally trade glances with him in crowded rooms, and wonder about how he's doing in the late hours of the night? "Oh. It's you," he remarks, unbothered by your appearance in his doorway. "If you're going to interrupt my sleep, the least you could do is come in."
SYLUS, the dangerous and elusive samurai... You’ve only ever seen him in the dark; an intimidating, ominous presence watching over you in the quiet hours of the night. You want so badly to get to know him, to understand him—you’ve called out for him to tell you his name a million times, but he refuses to share anything personal. You know he’s a menace, slinking in and out of the estate whenever he pleases to conduct his business, and you almost feel bad for the fools who stand in his way. One night, you sneak out into the forest to find him, yearning to escape from your life of boredom and solitude and become a samurai yourself. But first you’ll need to be trained. “Has the princess finally decided to come out of her castle?” You glare at him. “I hate it when you talk down to me like that.” He chuckles, then places a single cherry blossom in your hair. “Meet me here tomorrow night.”
to everyone who’s sent in a request that i haven’t fulfilled yet, i’m so sorry!!! i’m trying to respond to each and every one of them as fast as i can 😖😖😖
i love the ideas you guys have whipped up so far — i assure you none of them have been ignored!! 🩷
♥︎ featuring: head chef! sylus x pâtissier! fem!reader
— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: a record of the highs and lows of your time as a fresh-faced pâtissier under the renowned chef sylus—two unforgettable years marked by burnt sugar, stolen glances, and the kind of lessons that shape both your craft and your heart.
❝ i can name three things that are sweet: honey, sugar, and you! ❞
— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: restaurant au, fluff and mild angst, sylus is kind of a prick at first, kitchen is a battlefield, enemies-to-lovers, airport trope
— ༉‧₊ᐟ word count: 1.4k
— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: 好きな人がいること – jy
✧ a/n: inspired by my all-time favorite j-drama, a girl and three sweethearts (suki na hito ga iru koto), which ignited my love for bossy, sulky, tsundere men <3
HEAD CHEF! SYLUS did not welcome you warmly. He scowled at your “incompetence” despite not having tried your signature dessert—a lemon meringue tart with a cinnamon-powdered twist—and deemed you unworthy of his mentorship right off the bat. He’s the most powerful person in the kitchen and is set on making sure everyone remembers it, rarely pausing to say “please” and “thank you” and glaring daggers at anyone who makes so much as a minor mistake. It’s stressful, working under a man like him—as if a bomb defusal is in progress and one wrong snip could be life-threatening.
HEAD CHEF! SYLUS is a bossy, domineering man. His arrogance truly knows no bounds. All the best ingredients, all the best plate arrangements—everything is “his territory”. He’s got the most experience, after all. Why question him? Besides, he’s physically intimidating, too, towering over you at 6’ 2” and watching your every move with those piercing, ruby eyes. He makes you sweat, that’s for sure. “Coffee bavarois,” he stated plainly when asked about this week’s dessert, no room for debate. You tried to tell him it clashes with the main dish, but he refused to give you the time of day. “You’re new here,” he warned, a sinister edge to his deep voice. “So you do as I say.”
HEAD CHEF! SYLUS is always the last person to leave the restaurant. He stays behind to experiment with new flavors and figure out creative ways to improve the menu, sketching and making notes like his life depends on it. One night, just as you’re about to call it a day, you catch him standing by the counter, a quizzical expression on his face. You hide around the corner and watch him in silence as he frowns at the serving of coffee bavarois before him, doubt—for the very first time since you’ve known him—passing like a shadow over his sharp features. He pulls out a slice of your lemon meringue tart from the fridge (your coworkers ask you to bake one every week), and, gingerly, takes a small bite. His face lights up in sweet surprise, but he quickly schools his expression, as if wary of watchful eyes. “God damn it…” he curses under his breath before scribbling something in his book.
HEAD CHEF! SYLUS isn’t used to admitting he was in the wrong. He struggles to hold your gaze as he “suggests” a change in the dessert menu, his perfervid desire for culinary perfection winning out over his pride. You, on the other hand, are trying your hardest to suppress a smug grin of utter satisfaction, the glorious tides of victory flooding your veins. “Yes, chef,” you reply, beaming. Your coworkers watch on nervously as he squints at your tone, the spark of a challenge passing unspoken between the two of you. Just when you think he’s about to lash out, he simply says, brusque as always, “Preheat the oven. Doors are almost open.”
HEAD CHEF! SYLUS has finally begun to acknowledge your level of skill, begrudgingly taking your lead at times and heeding your advice. He rarely questions your decisions anymore; at least when it comes to the dessert menu. Once in a while, though exceedingly rare, you even catch the occasional muttered compliment falling from his lips, and it makes you happier than it should. Part of you wonders if he’s begun to seek your approval just as much as you seek his. Petty competition aside, work has felt a lot lighter, lately. For what might be the first time in an eternity, working in the kitchen feels like working as a team. “That was…not a bad idea,” he says lowly, masking his words with nonchalance. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you— ” you tease, incredibly pleased with yourself.
HEAD CHEF! SYLUS gets surprisingly twitchy when met with skin-to-skin contact. He’d been watching you prepare a tray of macarons the other day when you asked if he wanted to try piping the vanilla buttercream filling. Unexpectedly, he turned out to be a novice—fumbling with the bag and making a small mess on the baking tray. You sighed at his meagre attempts and reached out to guide him, your soft palm gentle yet firm on his knuckles as you filled the remaining macarons together. It worked well at first—both of you focused and in sync—but his grip eventually faltered. After a pause, he quietly shook your hand loose and returned to his own preparations, seemingly a little…flustered?
HEAD CHEF! SYLUS celebrates in silence. You’ve just won your first ever major haute cuisine competition as a chef-pâtissier duo, and rather than celebrating with the rest of the restaurant staff, he grabs a beer from the fridge and retreats to the balcony. You join him after a while, believing he deserves to feel proud too. The cool night air hits your face as you walk up to him—he’s hunched over the railing with a pensive, far-off look on his face. “Not having fun?” he asks sardonically. You rally the question back to him, to which he simply says he prefers celebrating in private. Yet…he doesn’t reject your company. In fact, he seems to find a sort of delicate solace in it. He opens up to you for the first time that night, telling you about the pressure he’s dealt with his entire life to live up to his legendary father's legacy. You tell him he’s enough and place your hand on his. Bright color warms his cheeks.
HEAD CHEF! SYLUS is patient with you; supportive of you. He’s still as broody and reserved as always, yet you find the other chefs smiling more. They laugh freely during work hours and, as a result, customers seem more satisfied, too. You’ve found a home here, and you’re happy. Imagine everyone’s surprise when you’re notified of a French celebrity chef’s interest in your dessert-making—his offer highly generous. He isn’t exactly more renowned than Sylus, but it would still be an excellent opportunity for you to progress in the culinary scene. It’s not something you can simply…pass up.
HEAD CHEF! SYLUS has been distant lately. His mood is easily soured, and he’s regained some of that signature bite when speaking to you. You know he’s just scared. Scared you’ll leave him, scared you’ll forget all about him when you move to Paris, your time together in the kitchen miles away. But he hasn’t discouraged you from going. “Award-winning pâtissiers would kill for an opportunity like this. Take it and go.” he says bluntly, and you’d be lying if you disagreed. So why does the thought of leaving this place behind hurt you so? And why is he acting like this if you’re already on borrowed time?
HEAD CHEF! SYLUS doesn’t bother seeing you off at the airport. You take in a shaky breath as you pull your luggage towards the immigration kiosks, devastated and confused. Did the past two years really mean nothing to him? Just as you step in line, heavy footsteps echo through the departure hall. You turn to see a very breathless, very desperate Sylus—still in his once-pristine chef’s uniform—staring right at you. He ran all the way here to stop you. To get something off his chest… “I’m not here to keep you from leaving,” he breathes, nothing but sincerity in those intense, crimson eyes. “That’d be selfish of me. I’m here to say goodbye. And…” Your heart squeezes as he cups the side of your face and leans in, planting a tender kiss on your lips. Hot tears threaten to spill down your cheeks as you tell him you love him, that you’ll never forget him, and that you’ll be back after chasing your dreams.
HEAD CHEF! SYLUS visits you every month, his warm embrace and playful kisses a welcome remedy for the cold, Parisian weather. You’ve barely been in France a year, and you already wish you could go back. Maybe next year, once you’ve finished perfecting this year’s dessert menu. You’ve always believed in expanding your horizons and chasing your dreams, but though they’re always evolving, always growing, in many ways…you already have. Because sometimes, a dream isn’t some far-off future—it’s the life you’re living. And for you, Sylus waits at the end of every chapter.
I'm speechless after reading your showerhead stories..... Like it was transformative on a soul-deep level 😭💖 Thank you omg!!? I hope you're doing well♥️
help this made me smile in a i'm-so-touched way and giggle in a those-are-such-elegant-words-to-describe-a-smutty-fic way 😭😭😭
i am so glad u liked it. this message made my day !! (´꒳`)♡
I wanted to make a request that would you be up to making a dish where the MCs is a bit sad and demotivated for studies and is overwhelmed by the stress caused by it and the LIs help and comfort her ?
I am thankful for your efforts and I hope this idea goes into consideration.
Be happy and satisfied in life.
Take care
hi lovely!! thank you so much for the kind words, and this request!
i recently served a dish quite similar to the prompt you gave me, so maybe it fulfils your vision 💭💭 if not, feel free to send me another request with what you have in mind!
you can find the fic here 💕
have a great day sweetie—if you're caught up with work right now, remember to take a break!!
