#but also should i bother with that right now since i am going to be travelling in less than 2 wks?

[zepskies]

Wowowow!! 😍 First of all, thanks so much. You really spoiled me with this review and it totally made my day!

I find it really interesting that this fic is the first one you've read from me, since it's such a "niche" pairing. But I love that you loved it (and my writing 🥰)!! Christmas is my favorite holiday too -- in no small part because of the food! lol I had fun incorporating my family's traditions into this one, and of course, feeding Dean. 😆

Diving into the rest of your amazing (and hilarious) comments below!

(you should know as I'm typing this I am daydreaming about the flan, you should just straight up know that LOL)

Giiiirl, get you some flan! My mom makes it so good. I can't wait for the holidays. 😮‍💨

I am happily being led while pushing Dean out of the way to get to it first. Lovingly of course lol.

lolll I'm dead! I can picture Dean's (playful) outrage. 😂

Not going to lie, I'd be giving Sam a little bit of the stink eye myself. What is so wrong with Dean enjoying himself a little? Besides...give me ALL the flan!!! Sam doesn't know what he's missing.

Right? Don't bother the man on Christmas lmao. Sam ate plenty on this round too, he has no room to judge! 😆

This right here is perfection. It made my heart break for Dean as well as Sam for their childhood, what Dean had to sacrifice at times to take care of Sam, how Sam never realized it before...just so perfectly written and so on point.

Aww thank you. It was an HC of mine that stemmed from bits we got of their childhood, and that one ep where someone was like, "You ever been hungry? Like haven't eaten in days, hungry?" And Dean was like, "Yeah..." 😭😭

I feel like from Sam's POV, he would never have known hunger with Dean around, even when things were tight and they were waiting on John.

Moments like this are worth melting for. 😉 (seriously though, I'm pretty sure I have to call someone to get the wetvac to get me up off of the floor)

LOLL honestly same! Oh for Dean to gather me to his chest in a warm snuggle. 🫠🫠

The whole ending scene just makes my heart glad, especially with her offering to go for a walk with Dean, most likely keeping in mind what Sam said (while Sam is keeping what she said in mind - like I said, perfection!) , but I especially loved the ending sequence right here:

Ahhh you caught what I was laying down there! She cares about Dean's health, but she also cares about his happiness. While Sam's now going to be taking what she said into account and try to have a convo with his brother about it in the future.

Ahaha and he so DOES wear shorts when the need arises! 😏

This was just beyond sweet and it was something I very much needed back when I read through it the first time. (I'm sorry I didn't leave feedback until now! I'm trying to be better about that these days) I love the way you write the Winchesters and this one shot cemented you as one of my favorite writers I've come across in this fandom (as well as a few others 😉).

Aww I'm so glad this little fic could give you some much needed escapism. (It's ok, friend. I'm just grateful that you did!) And that's an amazing compliment, thank you!! I'm honored to be counted as one of your favorites! 😭💜

I definitely cannot wait to dive into the Midnight Espresso verse and get more of these two. You did a beautiful job here, lovely!!! Well done!!! 😊💖💖

I would absolutely love it if you delved deeper into the Midnight Espresso verse!! It's a passion series of mine, so it really means that much more to me that you enjoyed it, as well as left such a heartfelt review. 💕

Get Stuffed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader

Summary: Dean enjoys the way you cook Christmas dinner with a Latin flair, even if Sam likes to tease him about his insatiable appetite. You remind Sam about the true reason behind one of Dean’s biggest quirks.

AN: This was requested by my lovely friend @iprobablyshipit91: Sam making the usual digs at Dean about his diet, and how much he eats, and the reader pulling him aside and telling him to back off as he doesn’t realize how much Dean went hungry as a kid to make sure Sam was fed.

Word Count: 1,800 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, innuendo, tinge of angst

**This story can be read as stand-alone, but you can also check out the full masterlist of one-shots below. ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

“Aw, hell yeah,” Dean mutters. He rubs his hands together and surveys the immovable feast that’s about to get shoveled into his mouth.

This Christmas marks roughly your first year living with the brothers Winchester in the bunker, and a few months after your first anniversary with Dean.

He’s made it very clear that he enjoys your cooking, especially of Cuban food. So you’ve gone all out for Christmas: white rice and your grandmother’s recipe for black beans, boiled yuca with plenty of garlic, bread drizzled with more garlic and olive oil, and Dean’s favorite…

“What’s this part of the pig called again?” he asks. And he uses a large fork to spear into the mountain of roasted meat that you’ve already cut and piled onto a platter.

You come in from the kitchen with the bread in hand, placing it on the dinner table. You sidle up behind him, where he's seated.

“The shoulder,” you say, squeezing both of Dean’s. He hums in interest as you press a kiss to the side of his head. “It’s called pernil. Marinated with garlic, mojo, bunch of good stuff.”

He predictably steals a juicy piece of meat, plopping it into his mouth. He grins while he chews and makes a happy sound.

“Ohoho, yeah.”

You share an amused look with Sam, who sits beside his brother. By the time you’ve found your seat on Dean’s other side, he’s already serving you and Sam the same hefty portions he serves himself.

You know for a fact you’re only going to eat about half of your plate. Sam manages to polish his off. Dean does as well…and serves himself twice more before you break out the dessert.

“Please tell me that’s a flan,” Dean says, drumming his fingers on the table.

“How the hell are you still hungry?” Sam asks.

The look on his face says he’s half entertained, half disgusted. Dean is still sucking on the crispy skin on a piece of pork. He licks the juices off his fingers.

“Have I taught you nothing?” he says. “There’s always room for dessert.”

He tosses you a wink, followed closely by a suggestive smirk. You glance at him with a smile as you set down the metal pan.

“It is a flan,” you affirm. “I tried my hand at coconut this time.”

“Ooh, tropical,” Dean says, waggling greasy fingers. He wipes them on a napkin before he reaches for the pie cutter, which is usually reserved for his favorite dessert. Although, flan is rapidly becoming his second go-to. The rich custardy goodness is calling to him like a siren song.

“How can I get you to make this more often?” Dean mutters while carving out a generous slice.

Your lips curve. You rest your chin on your hand and lean towards him, earning his gaze. “If I made it all the time, you wouldn’t savor it, now would you?”

Dean smirks. His gaze lowers to your lips, like he’s contemplating some persuasive maneuvers.

“You’d also be 300 pounds,” Sam remarks, taking a sip of his beer.

You eye Sam with a frown. But Dean just laughs it off and cuts his little brother a slice.

By the end of the meal, all three of you are stuffed. Dean groans and leans back in his seat. A gurgle mounts audibly from his stomach.

“Jesus. Are you erupting?” Sam says.

Dean holds up a finger. “Wait for it.”

You give your boyfriend a bemused look. You know exactly what’s about to happen. As does Sam, who’s grimacing.

A few seconds later, Dean does erupt, with a truly legendary belch.

“Nice,” you say wryly. Dean squeezes your soft, thick thigh and backs his chair away from the table.

“Well, since I roasted the pig and you did the rest, I’d say it’s Sammy’s turn on cleaning duty,” he says.

“Thanks,” Sam says, with a wan smile. Yours is more jovial, even as Dean’s hand toys with a curl of your hair after he stands.

“I’m gonna shower off the meat sweats,” he says.

You giggle, but you nod. “You do that. I’ll help Sam a bit, put away the food at least.”

Your smile becomes more genuine when Dean drops a kiss on your forehead from above.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says. His voice is a quiet, deep rumble washing over you. You know what he’s thanking you for: good food, and a small, but warm Christmas.

You reach up and give his cheek a tender touch, before he withdraws and makes his way to the bedroom he shares with you. It leaves you and Sam to collect what’s on the table and bring it all into the kitchen. While Sam does the dishes, you start to put away the leftovers.

Something has been nagging at you all night, though you’ve tried to stamp it down time and time again. You don’t know if it's your place to say something. Especially if Dean doesn’t seem bothered…but it bothers you. And you’ve never been one to hold your tongue.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” you begin, even as a small bit of trepidation niggles inside you.

Sam looks over at you. He’s quick to catch the serious note in your demeanor.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he replies. You okay? his eyes also ask.

“Why do you get on Dean so much for enjoying his food?” you ask.

Sam blinks. Then he scoffs a little. “There’s enjoying, and then there’s gluttony.”

“He’s not that bad,” you argue.

“He ate half his weight in pig,” Sam says. You can’t exactly deny that, but you cross your arms and turn to him, leaning your hip against the counter.

“So? It’s Christmas. Let him be happy,” you retort.

Sam levels you with pinched brows. “He’s not in his 20s anymore. All that crap he eats is going to catch up to him someday.”

“What, you expect him to down some kale smoothies?” you reply, giving a pointed brow raise and a teasing smile. “Get up at the crack of dawn for a bare-chested run?”

Sam shoots you a dry look.  

“My point is, I’m not gonna survive hundreds of monster attacks just to get taken down by cholesterol,” he says.

You sigh a raise a placating hand. “All right. I get what you’re saying. I’m just saying…have you ever thought about why he loves food so much? Why he overindulges sometimes?”

Sam's brow quirks. It’s a question you know you need to tread lightly in order to answer. You uncross your arms to lay a hand on Sam’s wrist. He stops washing dishes and turns off the sink to give you his full attention, sensing your shift.

You look up at him, and you steel yourself.

“He might’ve mentioned once…that you two sometimes had a hard time growing up. With John taking you guys from motel to motel while he was working a job, and every now and then, leaving you guys alone longer than he meant to.”

Dean had been more than a bit drunk when you’d gotten this out of him. Hearing about that aspect of his upbringing had upset you, not just as someone who cared about him, but the caretaker in you smarted.

“Even though you guys didn’t have enough money at times, your brother always made sure you were fed,” you explain. You meet Sam’s gaze, squeezing his arm. “Sometimes he went without.”

Sam’s expression slowly slackens, contemplative and dismayed at what you’re implying. He dries his hands on a kitchen towel and rubs at his mouth, like he’s reeling back the years of evidence in his mind and trying to confirm if you were right.

“You don’t remember?” you gently ask.

Sam shakes his head. “I mean, I knew things were tight. I remember him taking care of me, obviously. But…”

He doesn’t remember his brother going hungry.

It carves a hole of remorse in his chest.

This isn’t the first time he’s had to reexamine Dean’s role in his life, and not the first time he’s felt this flavor of guilt. But he sighs and really doesn’t know what to say.

You seem to realize that, and you squeeze his arm one last time.

“Just keep that in mind,” you implore.

You soon leave him to venture upstairs, but there in the kitchen, Sam makes a resolution before the new year. One that includes having a conversation with his brother.

You find Dean in your bedroom. Now in his most threadbare sweatpants and an old black shirt, he lays over the covers on the bed. His eyes are closed and his arms are folded behind his head, but he hears you when you come in.

You slide into bed next to him and lay your head on his chest. He groans deep and slowly lowers his arms. One of them wraps around your frame.

“Think I overdid it a bit,” he admits, cracking his eyes open. You smile and gently pat his stomach. 

“Wanna go for a walk tomorrow?” you ask. “We can go down to the park.”

Dean raises a brow at you. “You hate walking.”

“Not true,” you shake your head, before you rest more comfortably against him. He tucks you in beside him and begins to run his fingers down your arm. It’s a bit distracting.

“Could be nice, with the right view,” you add, though you shiver a little at his touch.

Dean makes a sound of mild interest in the idea. “I guess, if you like stringy trees and frozen lakes.”

It’s winter in Lebanon. Not much to look at.

You smirk and press a kiss to his chest. “I mean, that, and you in some little Richard Simmons shorts.”

Dean gives you a look, and you giggle so hard it shakes your whole body against him.

“Honestly, I think that’ll really do it for me,” you tease. You walk two fingers across his thigh, where a cute pair of ‘80s-style exercise shorts would cut off.

Dean grabs your hand and rolls you over, pinning you underneath him on the bed. His thigh slips between both of yours, causing friction against your jeans. And he smirks down at you.

“Sweetheart, I don’t do shorts.”

AN: 😂 A little callback to S1 at the end there. I hope you guys liked this! Just in time to prepare for my Christmas cooking! ❤️💚

Keep Reading:

Next up in this series is "A Wish to Build a Dream On":

Summary: Dean has been harboring the archangel Michael in his mind for weeks now, putting a strain on your relationship as you struggle to help him. When Dean makes a wish that accidentally brings his father back from the dead, you get to meet the (in)famous John Winchester. But as always with magic, your boyfriend’s wish has unintended consequences.

▶️ Next Story: A Wish to Build a Dream On

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictear @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[derpinette]

whenever a guy approaches me i start wishing i had a giant forehead tattoo that reads "I AM NOT & WILL NEVER EVER BE INTERESTED LEAVE ME ALONE PERMANENTLY" so i could flash it at them

[pallases]

submitted my first app 😖

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[chekovsphaser]

Man I have had an emotional rollercoaster of a day today.

[ariaste]

listen ok so i made some good jokes yesterday about Lestat having an onlyfans but i am back today with a new essay and this one is entitled

Why The Invention Of Social Media Is Going to Permanently Save Loustat's Fucking Marriage

come on this journey with me.

ok so on one hand we have Louis, who does not like to leave the house except when he absolutely fucking has to and even then he resents it. my man wants to be at home with a book 100% of the time and he's so fucking valid for that. When he leaves the house, bad things happen to him. He has learned this and honestly i can't fault his evidence. it sucks out there. it truly incredibly sucks out there.

the problem is that sometimes he is married to lestat, who starts clawing at the walls if people aren't paying attention to him for 12 consecutive seconds, and being Out Of The House is the best place for him to go foraging for People To Pay Attention To Him. my man once had a rock star career the way that some people get addicted to meth brewed in a trashcan in someone's garage. Louis, through no fault of his own, is simply not capable of filling this psychological need no matter how hard he tries, except he should not even HAVE to try like that, because no one can do it, because Lestat is fucked up and like wasn't hugged enough as a child or something

this imbalance in their relationship is the core source of all their marital problems since day 1: THIS man's idea of a good time is chilling on the sofa in silence and maybe staring contemplatively at the wall for a while, and THIS man starts self-destructing at a truly astonishing rate if no one is making eye contact with him. If you make Louis go outside and socialize with people, he's miserable and sulking and whining about "are we done can we go home". If you make Lestat sit in silence in a chair for five minutes he starts crying and claiming that No One Has Ever Loved Him, Ever, Ever, And No One Understands Him, And He Hates Everyone In This House and He Is Being Actively Neglected And Cruelly Mistreated Right Now And No One Even Bothers To Feel Sorry For Him, This Is BASICALLY Domestic Violence Against Him Personally, If Only Anyone Knew About The Quiet Hidden Tragedies Of An Unhappy Marriage, and then he breaks some furniture and a window and isn't seen again for six weeks and comes back like "you will not believe what just happened, i [checks notes] met Merlin and also a dragon who gave me three wishes, brb i'm going to write another book about it :))))"

all you fucking have to do to fix their problems is to hand Lestat a cellphone and say the words "do you know about social media? you can say whatever shit you want and there's always someone awake in some time zone to talk to you." Suddenly Lestat is now very interested in sitting quietly on the couch, Lounging Alluringly and posting thirst traps on instagram and finally getting emotional fulfillment from all the likes and comments of "omg???? omg this is the hottest man alive". he does not have to leave the house anymore to get his attention meth. His yawning abyss of neediness is being fulfilled by having parasocial relationships with millions of strangers online who all think he's sexy and don't have to experience how fucking awful he is up close. he can flirt pointlessly with 200 people at once which is FINALLY ENOUGH FLIRTATIONS FOR HIM TO SATISFACTORILY JUGGLE

Meanwhile Louis is 3 feet away, vaguely reflecting to himself that HE is feeling all emotionally fulfilled because they're spending this great Quality Time together in perfect silence while he reads his book and Lestat plays on his cellular telephone and only OCCASIONALLY giggles to himself or says "louis which of these photos do you think is sexier, the one with four buttons undone or the one with five buttons undone" Louis is feeling like his Opinion is being Valued, Louis feels like he is being Consulted on Matters that are Important To Lestat. He has opinions about the photographs. It is not that much trouble to be interrupted from staring philosophically at the wall to spend five seconds looking at a photograph and then saying "that one". Finally he is experiencing Cozy Domesticity. he is so horny about it. lestat is surprised and bewildered about the sudden sharp increase in the amount of sex he is now getting but before he can make any vaguely mean comments about it (bc he's confused and vaguely defensive and worried that it's going to stop out of nowhere and he doesn't know any other interpersonal skills for expressing a thought) his phone pings about how he's just broken 5 million followers on instagram and he totally forgets to even mention the sex thing, which means that he continues getting the sex instead of inciting an argument about the sex and going through his 800th divorce from Louis

all their friends are extremely confused when a whole month, and then six months, and then a year goes by without another Loud Divorce happening and no one crashing through their front door like "I HAVE TO SLEEP IN YOUR GUEST COFFIN FOR THE NEXT MONTH, HE IS INTOLERABLE". They are worried. they are concerned. what is going on over there. are they both dead. no, they can't both be dead, Lestat just posted another tiktok of him sucking on his own fingers, which he would not be doing if Louis were dead. there is an ecosystem collapse happening in the groupchat and it's because the main Drama Vectors have been neutralized

[swampdrive]

Specific gripe but hwrow capitalism really crushes art

[intoxicated-chan]

angsty fight between miguel and wife!reader

and then they make up yayayayay

Give Me Reasons We Should Be Complete

✿ฺ Paring ➳��� Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

���ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel has been pushing you away for some time now. After a talk with a friend, you and Miguel try to sort things out.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “DANCING IN THE DARK” by Joji. Writing this made me think back on past crushes/lovers. But thank you for your request! I am also holding back on writing smut because it keeps getting labeled and it takes me longer to write.

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.4k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, angst-to-fluff, swearing, Miguel is kinda a dick head, mentions of sleep deprivation…

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

You stood in his cold and dark office. The best source of light was his laptop but his huge frame blocked most of the light. You managed around the crumbled paper and thrown desk objects with a plate in hand.

“Miguel?” You peer over his shoulder, “I made you dinner.”

He nods.

“You know you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

He nods again.

“And you know that you’ve been here for a long time. I think it’s best for you to-”

“Take a break?” Miguel interrupts you, “I don’t have time for that.”

“Miguel, I’m sure whatever it is, it can wait a few minutes. All I’m asking is for you to eat something.” You try to set the plate down.

“I thought I made it clear that I do not want to be bothered. You’re distracting me. Leave.”

He didn’t mean it like that… He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that…

“But Mig-”

“I said go.” He growls, his eyes turning its blood red from anger, “You’re becoming a nuisance.”

He didn’t mean it like that.

“Okay.” You tried not to let the crack in your voice show. You didn’t even bother to leave the plate behind because you knew it was going to be wasted.

“And don’t bother me again.” You heard him say as you left his office.

You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down before you burst into tears. But your hands shook, nearly dropping the plate.

You choked down your sobs and let your tears fall, the plate was left in the fridge, and you pushed yourself to your bedroom. It was basically yours now since Miguel was sleeping in his office.

The sheets no longer lingered on his cologne and any sign of his presence was gone, other than his clothing and a few photos. The room has become a mess of discarded clothing, old plates and cups, and candy wrappers.

How long has it been since Miguel showed affection? Or even looked at you?

This was normal behavior for Miguel, right? You should know, you’re married to him. You’re his wife. But he experienced loss, unlike you. You didn’t want to judge him for how he deals with his emotions, he’s emotionally distant. You knew that from the start.

And because of this, you felt like he deserved more than what you could give him. It’s what kept you going through the many times Miguel tore your heart, how it squeezed in pain at his actions and words. How you look the other way and ignore his hurtful words.

You couldn’t sleep. You left the still cold bed and dressed in something warm and headed up to the roof.

You sat on the edge, looking at Nueva York. How beautiful it looked during the night, which is one of the reasons why you liked sitting up here.

“Sitting all by yourself?” You tense up only to relax when you know that voice, “At this time? All alone?” Peter B. lands next to you, his daughter in his arms.

“I would ask my husband to join me but he’s too busy.” You respond truthfully.

“Again? He’s been at this all week.” He sits next to you.

“Yeah.” You huff.

“And… how are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.” He offers Mayday who reaches out to you.

You take her and set her down on your lap, “I just don’t know what to do, everything I do seems to bother Miguel. Checking up on him, bringing him food. It feels like he’s doing this on purpose.”

“Miguel’s always been difficult and from the time I spent with him… He’s different, not like the rest of us. He’s accepted his fate as Spider-Man and believes he’s destined for bad things 24/7. But good things do come along, like you. I think… I think he’s trying to come to terms that he can get it because he deserves it.”

Mayday coos, pulling at your hair, “And I think Miguel is scared. He puts on his tough act because he has to, yet he’s afraid to admit he’s scared. Normally, people would’ve given up on him. Why haven’t you?

“Till death do us part. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t give up on him because when you love someone, you love them every single day as who they are.”

“Talk about romantic.”

“Oh please.” You look down at Mayday, “Plus I think-”

“There you are.” You jump and this time, you remain tense, “I was looking for you.”

“Now you’re looking for me?” You respond, refusing to turn your head.

“It’s late, (Y/n). It’s dangerous.”

“I’m here, she’s alright.” Mayday jumps into her father’s arms.

“I’ve already had enough of you. Please, (Y/n).”

“It’s fine.” You tell him, following Miguel inside.

You head to the bedroom, “Where are you going?”

“Bed.”

“(Y/n)-”

“I’m tired and I do not want to be bothered. That includes you too, Miguel.”

“Excuse me?” He follows you into the bedroom.

“You heard me.”

“Please, (Y/n), talk to me.” Miguel begs.

“I’m sorry, did you just say talk? Like I have been trying to do for the past week?”

“(Y/n)-”

“You know what? No, no. You do not get to try to get me to talk after all of this. I have been trying, I have been all in. All I asked of you was to look after yourself.”

“I know.”

“You know? You KNOW?” You scoff rather loudly, “Did you know that Lyla has even talked to me about your behavior? I’m worried about you Miguel. All the damn time, even more when I see you not eating and staying up all night. All I ask is one minute, one bite of the damn food.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Is sorry all you have to say? Not even a half assed excuse?” You see Miguel trying to form a sentence but nothing leaves his left and his head hangs low, “I need to be alone.”

You walk past him but he grabs your arm, “Please don’t leave.” He says, “Please don’t walk out that door.”

“I’m sleeping on the couch, you could have the bed.” You look up at him.

“I love you, (Y/n). I know I don’t say it as much but I fucking love you. He’s right, you know. I am scared. Scared of everything. Because at first, I didn’t think I could have that, have you. You let me hurt you and that is unforgivable.”

He’s crying. Looking right at you, letting himself be bare right in front of you. His grip on your arm loosens and his hands come up to your face, cupping your cheeks. You could hear his staggered breathing, trying to keep himself composed.

“But I wasn’t lying when I said I love you, I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted a family, and I wasn’t lying when I said that you make me believe in love.”

“I’m always here for you, Miguel. You don’t have to go through things alone, but when you want to, I’m here.” You take one of his hands into yours, pulling it away from your face but keeping a tight hold on it.

“It’s not that easy. I hurt you, I understand why you don’t want to.”

“I love you, Miguel. We’ll work on this. I promise you.” After a moment, Miguel practically tackles you, nearly falling to the ground. The hug is tight and warm, and you could feel your shirt become wet with Miguel’s tears.

“You’re okay, right?” His voice cracks as he speaks through his sobs, “Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I promise you, I am okay.” You whisper.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“You can start by getting some rest. But you’ve got a lot of apologies O’Hara.”

You don’t know how long you and Miguel stayed like this, nor did you care. All you cared about was Miguel and he felt complete at last.

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform with permission.

[tender-rosiey]

hiii 😭 I REALLY LOVE UR GOJO X YN SO MUCHHH 😔😔 I was also wondering like maybe what if y/n has a wound, like any where 🥲 it could be either on her back, arms, legs but she doesn't wanna tell gojo abt it and she hides it, then he will find out about it either she winces when gojo hugs her, starts wearing long sleeved clothes or her shirt lifts up while sleeping 🤧 TYSMM❤❤

strain — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I am honored that you like my works, love! hope you enjoy this as well 🫶💕🫶 also happy birthday to the man, the myth, the legend: gojo satoru!! (it’s still his birthday in my country so hush I am not late)

you are more than a capable sorcerer. in fact, you are one of the strongest in the field.

however, like anyone else, there are some moments where things get a little out of hand, and you come back bearing a rather long slash on your left arm.

but since it’s pretty late, you decided you will bother shoko about it in the morning. that is how you’re finally in your home, with satoru nowhere to be found.

you frown lightly at the fact that he is still out there fighting curses, but a part of you feels relieved that you don’t have to explain your situation right now.

the night should pass by smoothly, and you will go to shoko tomorrow: a fool-proof plan!

so you do what you can to sanitize the wound, and cover it until you can get it treated properly. you also take the chance to indulge in your favorite snack as a good job treat.

after finishing your food and tidying up for the day, you’re finally in bed, all-cozied up and avoiding anything touching your wound as much as possible.

a deep breathe in, a deep breathe out, and you slowly drift to sleep.

not much time passes before satoru’s familiar footsteps echo throughout the house.

your husband has an abundance of energy.

but it seemed like today’s missions have drained him a bit more than normal, so he skips eating anything and heads straight to your shared bedroom.

his heart softens, and his muscles relax upon the sight of you tucked in bed. he walks to press a small kiss on your forehead, quickly changing into his pajamas and settling right by your side.

he stretches a bit and turns to spoon you as per usual, eyes closing in contentment.

but you wince, even if adeptly, and it sends alarms ringing through his head.

he jerks up, and his hand is instantly placed on your arm again, softly. there is an ever so faint change in your expression as your eyebrows furrow, and he has never pulled his hand away so fast.

he keeps debating in his head whether to wake you up or not, but he swiftly settles for the former.

he needs to know what happened. so he, regrettably, nudges your sleepy form, “y/n?”

you groan, but, nonetheless, you reply, “…what?”

while satoru often likes to base theatrics around his every move and phrase, but he also knows when to get straight to the point, “did you get hurt on today’s mission?”

you’re no longer half-asleep, and you quickly sit up, eyeing your husband. knowing there is no escape nor denial, you fidget with your fingers and nod slowly.

then you hurriedly utter, “but I was going to see shoko first thing in the morning; I promise!”

he nods slowly, holding your hands in his own. you’re left to look him in the eyes. satoru’s eyes being exposed makes him feel so vulnerable, or at least that’s how he is with you.

you can see every wrinkle, and every crease; you can see what he is thinking about in real time. he has long given up hiding anything from you, and, besides, it feels fresh to just let go.

but right now, as you look into his eyes, you see them swarming with confliction, pain, and worry.

he doesn’t scold you about not going right now because he knows that you will tell him that you either thought it wasn’t a big deal or that you didn’t want to bother shoko with it.

instead, he settles on a hushed whisper of “can I see it?”

you throw him a confused look, “why? I am getting it treated tomorrow anyway,” then you smile, “it’s not going to permanent if that’s what you’re worried about.”

he shakes his head, “it’s not that; I just—“ he takes a deep breath then looks at you pleadingly, “just let me see it.”

perhaps it’s to silence his thoughts and to show him that you’re truly okay, as okay as you can be.

you’re still alive, and that’s what matters, he thinks. nevertheless, he feels the need to see just how serious is the wound anyway.

reluctantly, you slowly take off your jacket to reveal the poorly bandaged gash on your arm.

he looks up at you, asking for permission because even if he needs to see it for his own selfish reasons, he has to put you above anything and everything else.

you nod, giving the free reign to slowly take off the bandages. you can barely hold back any pained noises, but you can’t help the wincing of your body.

satoru’s frown deepens, and with every move, your husband’s heart aches. it goes like that until the wound is finally unveiled.

you feel satoru observing the cut so intently that you look away. satoru curses everything that he can think of, and never has we wanted the ability to heal others more than right now.

he straightens his back, ���that’s a deep cut, y’know.”

“I know…”

“you also realize that the wound could’ve hit your chest and inevitably heart, right?”

you huff, “listen, if you’re going to give me a lecture or keep making me feel bad about it then I will have you know—“

“you could’ve died.”

you notice the strain in his voice, so you turn to finally look eyes with him. he looks pained, so hurt, maybe even terrified at the fact that there was a chance that he could’ve lost you.

your expression immediately becomes that of sympathy, “but I didn’t, and dwelling on the fact that I might’ve died will only bother you for no reason,” you hold his hand, “I am here and alive, aren’t I?”

your husband sighs, resting his head on your right shoulder, “you’re hurting my poor little heart whenever you put yourself in danger like that.”

a giggle escapes your lips, and your hands naturally find their way in his hair, fingers gently carding through, “whatever shall we do.”

“if things went my way then you would just stay home looking all pretty like you always do,” he states, and you roll your eyes.

“well, they’re going my way tonight, so—“ the clock strikes twelve, “happy birthday, silly boy.”

his eyes widen and he pulls away to look you in the face. he blinks dumbly then looks at what’s in your hands: a cupcake with a candle.

a wide grin of unbridled joy appears on your husband’s face. his eyes shimmer in the moonlight as he laughs, “I really didn’t expect it this time!”

“you outdid yourself, pretty girl,” he hums, hand caressing your cheek.

“I still have a lot more things for you,” you beam with pride. satoru can’t contain himself anymore, and he pulls you into a loving embrace.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs beside your ear, pressing a light kiss to the side of your neck.

you pat his back, “I love you too, ‘toru,” you laugh, “but you’re pressing on my wound, and I think I am just going to cry and not because of overwhelming love.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[fum1ku]

LOVE TROPES - HQ BOYS

ft. osamu miya, daichi sawamura, kei tsukishima, keishin ukai, atsumu miya

should i be working on the highly requested pt. 2 to my recent works that’s currently sitting in my drafts? yes. should i also probably be working on the few requests i’ve got in my inbox? also yes. am i still over here writing whatever this is instead of doing those things? absolutely. at least i’m writing something!

OSAMU: friends to lovers.

you had been friends with the miya twins since high school. you had always butt heads with atsumu; bickering back and forth about anything and everything. but it was different with osamu. it felt like you both understood each other, in a way. plus the mutual dislike you both had for atsumu definitely helped. and now, nearly 8 years later, your friendship was still going strong.

well past 8pm, you stood over the front counter at onigiri miya with samu cleaning behind the counter for closing, and atsumu sitting at a stool next to you.

“i don’t know what his problem is! we go out for drinks one night, wind up at his place, and then the next day he can’t even be bothered to send me a single fucking text. seriously. i’m done!” you were going on about your.. most recent boyfriend.

“why don’tcha just dump him then?” atsumu offered, his mouth full of the onigiri osamu had made for him.

“atsumu, you’re disgusting! and i can’t because we aren’t even a thing! which is good—i don’t want us to be.”

osamu laughed at you two from behind the counter.

“okay well then what’s the problem! i don’t understand you women,” atsumu exclaimed, licking off the last bits of onigiri form his fingertips and shoving his plate behind the counter. “i’ve got practice tomorrow. so i’m gone. some of us actually have real problems that aren’t centered around one night stands with guys!”

“oh right, atsumu, like your sex life is any better,” you muttered. the door slammed shut behind him as the bell above the door exhibierst through the building.

you sighed, sinking further into your chair.

“here,” osamu slid a plate towards you. “might make ‘ya feel better. plus i need feedback to see if it’s worth addin’ to the menu.”

you smiled. “thanks, osamu. and yeah, i’ll give good feedback, promise!”

osamu smiled to himself as he wiped down the back counter. yeah, sure, after 8 years of pining he was no closer to asking you out. but, no matter what, he’d always be here to make you food whenever another boy made you cry.

DAICHI: love at first sight.

it had been a long practice and daichi had decided to treat everyone to a snack down at sakanoshita. daichi stood with suga and asahi waiting for the 1st and 2nd years to finish grabbing their fill. tanaka and noya had seen daichi paying as an opportunity to grab whatever they wanted.

“c’mon you guys!” suga yelled from across the store. “we don’t have all day!”

it has been a long day of classes for you, so it wasn’t even an option in your mind whether you should stop at the convenience store or not. only now you had found yourself in your own little debate.

“milk tea.. or coffee?” you mumbled to yourself. you were bent down over the drinks section taking your sweet time.

daichi turned around to see you and knew he was gone right then and there.

suga scoffed at the two 2nd years taking their time, only to turn back and find daichi’s gaze focused on you.

“hey, daichi, maybe we should—” he started, but stopped as soon as he noticed daichi staring. he whispered to asahi and they both began berating their poor captain.

“c’mon, dude! why don’t you just go talk to them? we obviously have the time!” suga nudged at his arm.

daichi denied anything. “hey, i don’t even now what you’re talking about, suga! we’re here for snack for the team, just go focus on that.”

“hey, don’t we go to school with them? y/n l/n. class 2, i think,” asahi piped up. he couldn’t remember where exactly he knew you from, though.

daichi was sure if he had gone to school with you, he’d remember.

“they’re in photography club! that’s how i know them! they asked me to join after i dropped out of volleyball,” asahi recalled, loud enough to grab your attention.

you looked up to find the set of 3rd years staring in your direction. your drink in hand, you made your way up to them.

“azumane, right? nice to see you again!” you beamed.

“y-yeah, right! good to see you too, l/n,” he smiled, nervously.

“are you guys in line?” you questioned.

“no—no we’re not! sorry about that!” daichi apologized, moving to the side to allow you to get to the register.

you placed your drink on the counter, making small talk with the guy at the front register.

“c’mon, daichi! if you don’t ask them before they leave you might not get to again!” suga whispered.

“suga, let it go. it’s too strange—they don’t even know me.”

suga shoved daichi forward just as you turned around to make your way towards the door.

“oh! hi!” you mused.

“s-sorry. hi.. again.”

“sawamura, right? you’re the captains of the volleyball team!” you smiled.

“yeah, i am. and you’re l/n, right? asahi was telling me about you. you’re in photography.

“i am, actually! and please, just call me y/n!”

“then just call me daichi!”

first name basis after 10 minutes? way to go daichi!

“actually..” you started. “i was wondering if it’d be possible for me to take some action shots of the volleyball team? i was going to use them for an upcoming project of mine. of course if not, that’s okay too! you probably need to talk it over with the team.”

“yeah—absolutely! i’ll have to talk it over with everyone, but i don’t see it being a problem at all,” he said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “what class are you in? i can talk to you some time next week to figure out what day would work best.”

“here,” you said, turning around to the man behind the counter. “excuse me, do you have a pen i could borrow?”

the man tossed you a pen, not giving a second look to you from behind his magazine. you pulled out daichi’s arm and started scribbling down numbers.

your.. phone number?

“now you can call me, that’ll be easier!” you smiled. “anyways, i gotta run. see you later, daichi. tell azumane i said bye too!”

he was speechless. did he really manage to get your number without even trying?

suga ran up behind him. “dude! how? you hardly said anything to them!”

“wow, daichi’s got skills with the ladies!” tanaka mused, noya trailing behind them. their arms were stacked full with all kinds of snacks.

he was definitely not paying for all of those.

KEI: academic rivals to lovers.

you worked at the library at the university you attended. tsukishima had seen you around campus a few times. yamaguchi would go as far as to describe you as tsukishima’s “campus crush”—which tsukki of course denied. he hardly even knew you.

but, this semester is when things finally got interesting. you had wound up taking the course tsukishima was the TA for.

you were currently bent down behind a bookshelf in the campus library, organizing the books that needed to be put away. you noticed a hand grab a book off your cart.

you stood up. “anything you need help finding?”

“no,” the man stated, blankly.

you examined the book in his hand. “wait. are you in psych 301? haven’t seen you in there before.”

“kei tsukishima. i’m the assistant in that class this semester.”

“oh! i’m y/n l/n. are you reading that book for fun then, or?”

“i know. i graded your last essay. something about the human consciousness or whatever,” he stated, pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose.

your face went hot. “oh? so you were the one that gave me a B- on that. that was the best paper i’ve written all semester!”

“yeah, only because you can’t write any better ones. and maybe actually read the syllabus before you join the class,” he deadpanned.

“okay, mr. know-it-all. and for what it’s worth, i did in fact read the syllabus.”

“well if you actually paid attention, then you’d know this book was meant to be read alongside the other materials.”

wait. what?

before you could say another word, he placed the book back down in the cart. “my email is on the syllabus if you’d actually care to read it. good luck actually passing the class.”

you were so going to find that syllabus. and you were definitely doing to pass that class.

KEISHIN: second chance.

stepping foot into sakanoshita after years felt like a dream. but seeing keishin, your high school boyfriend, sitting there behind the counter, was what really sent you back.

“keishin?”

ukai actually took the time to look up form his magazine, and he was glad he did. “y/n?”

“keishin!” you smiled. “i didn’t realize you family still owned the place!”

he stood up form his seat behind the counter. “yeah! work here part-time, coach volleyball the other half.

“you coach volleyball? does the old ukai not coach anyone then?”

“nah, old man retired last year. still coaches a few younger kids on the side. but, hey, how have you been? it’s been years since i last saw you in miyagi. 4? 5, maybe?”

“yeah,” you sighed. “it’s definitely been awhile. but life has been great in tokyo. my internship finally ended and so i’m back here for the next month or two!”

“really? you got to let me take you out sometime—drinks, to celebrate.”

you felt the slight rush of heat to your cheeks. “r-right! of course!”

“hey, if you wanted, we close in less than an hour. you could wait here till then, catch up, then let me take you out for drinks.”

“alright,” you smiled, taking a seat behind the counter next to ukai. “tell me about your team then. where do you coach? karasuno?”

you felt like you were 16 all over again. just him and you.

ATSUMU: opposites attract.

you were the promotional manager for the msby black jackals. everyone on the team loved you—yes, even sakusa. though he wouldn’t admit it. but, atsumu being the sly guy he is, took every opportunity to flirt with you. of course, keeping things professional, you shut him down every chance you got. plus, it would never work. ever. you knew that.

he was childish, you were mature—top of your office only a few months in. he was selfish half the time, and he’d always describe you as one of the most thoughtful people he’s ever met. he was confident and bold. you were quiet and reserved, at least time him. so when you find yourself alone with him at the gym one night late after practice, going through your binder of advertising ideas, you didn’t know what to make of it. the way you could feel he eyes focused on you and only you drove you insane.

you finally took a break form your rant about new promotional ideas for the team, leaving a heavy silence between the two of you.

“y/n?” he finally said, breaking for silence.

“yeah, atsumu?” you respond, not looking up form your binder.

“you should let me take ‘ya out. i mean it.”

you quietly gasped to yourself.

sure, atsumu had made pass after pass at you every day for the last few months since you started working with the team. but, this time, he sounded so.. genuine.

what’s even worse is you couldn’t help yourself from the words the escape your lips in the last moment.

“okay.”

© fum1ku 2024.

⁂ taglist: @chloiyoomi @eashn + let me know if you want to be added! 💌

[alisonwritesimagines]

Wayne Family Garden ~Batmom Imagine~

Summary: Your plan on growing a garden. However, you don’t have a green thumb. Luckily, you know someone who does.

Author’s Note: I'm obessed with the Wayne Family Adventures on WebToons. Like you don't know how obsessed I am with them.

BatFamily Masterlist

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: fluff, Poison Ivy and Harley know the Batfam's identies (its canon)

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

"What do you think Alfred?"

"I think having a lemon tree could really benefit the garden and our groceries," Alfred tells you.

"Maybe we can have an apple tree too?" You said.

"Sounds delightful. And Master Bruce agreed to your garden?"

"Yup. Said we can have it on the side in the backyard. And we can grow whatever we want," you smiled.

"We should start off small then," Alfred said.

"Right. So then a lemon tree, an apple tree, and carrots?" You asked.

"Sounds good to me," Alfred smiled.

You had been growing more bored around your home now that most of your kids were adults and had moved out of the mansion. So after seeing a good amount of gardening TikToks, you wanted to start your own little garden. But there was one slight problem, you didn't know how to garden.

So there was one person you could think of who could help you start off. You didn't want to bother Alfred more than what he has to deal with so you used your husband's technology to find a certain someone.

The apartment complex looked a little run down but yet again, you knew this was where they would be laying low. You knocked on the front door, only to see Harley Quinn opening it up.

"Mrs. Wayne? Whatcha doin here?" Harley asked you.

"Hiya, Harley. I'm looking for Ivy. Is she around?" You asked.

"Yeah. What's going on?" Harley asked.

"Harley. Who is it?" You heard Ivy ask.

"It's Y/n Wayne! Batman's wife!" Harley said excitedly.

"Hi, Ivy. I came here to ask for a favor," you tell her.

"Uh sure. What's up?" Ivy asked.

"I am currently planting a garden at my home but the problem is, I don't know how to garden. I was wondering if you can help me out," you asked her.

"Don't you have a butler who also knows how to garden?" Ivy asked.

"Yes but I don't want to bother him more than my family already has. And besides, I need more females around the house," you mentioned.

"What are you trying to grow?" Harley asked.

"I would like to start off with a lemon tree, an orange tree, and an apple tree. But I know those take a couple years to grow but I would like to begin growing carrots, tomatoes, and green beans as well," you tell her.

"Those are good to start off with," Ivy mentioned.

"Thanks. So will you come by my house with me and help me get started? I have the tools and everything to start off," you asked her.

"Yeah. My schedule is clear for today," Ivy shrugged.

"Thank you! Harley! You can come over too," you invited.

"Oh sweet!"

Whenever it was a light night, meaning that there was barely crime for once in Gotham, the whole family would get together for dinner. However, they were surprised to see two new comers joining you all in dinner.

"I expect you all to behave yourselves for the night. Ivy and Harley are my guests as they helped me with my garden today," you tell your family.

"Yes mom."

"And no hero or villain talk in the table. I would like a dinner where we can just eat like normal people for once," you say as you prepped the table.

During dinner, everyone ate peacefully but kept a close eye on Harley and Ivy. It was mainly you talking about the garden and your plans for it.

"What are you planning on growing in the garden ummi?" Damien asked you.

"I would like a lemon, orange, and an apple tree but I know those take a while to grow. But I'm also planning on growing some carrots, green beans, and tomatoes to start off," you say excitedly.

"Just make sure to follow the instructions I gave you," Ivy said.

"Of course. And I'll call you in case anything happens," you smiled at her.

The next few weeks, you were proud of your work. The trees were starting to form slowly but surely. You kept notes to check your progress as well as making sure everything was going smoothly. So it wasn't a surprise for the batfamily to see Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy come to their house every week to help check on your garden.

"They're growing good," Ivy tells you,

"Thank you!"

"If you want, I can help you speed up the process for the trees."

"I know I should wait but I do want to try baking an apple pie and make my own orange juice."

"As long as you keep maintaining it you should be fine."

"Mmm. Okay. Let's do it!"

Cassandra and Stephanie quickly rushed over to Harley's and Ivy's place with the bag from their mom. It had been a couple weeks since Ivy and Harley last visited you and your garden. Cassandra knocked on the door, waiting for one of them to answer.

"What do you kids want?" Ivy asked as she opened the door.

"wanted us to drop this off to you," Stephanie said as she handed her the bag. Ivy looked into it before smiling. A fresh apple pie along with a pitcher of orange juice and lemonade were placed in the bag.

"Tell her we said thank you."

"We will!"

"Let her know that if she wants to start something new, have her call me," Ivy tells the girls.

"We will!"

[fluffylino]

minho is felix's bestfriend and also happens to be your sworn enemy. he comes over one evening.

whats the worst that could happen...

-contains mature themes

frustration.

pure frustration was what you were feeling. was it really this difficult to operate a toy?!

a damn vibrator that too. a simple little vibrator. internally embarassed by your lack of 'skills' in using it.

maybe you were pressing down on the wrong setting. cause everytime it reached the highest vibrations, it would go back to the lowest setting, a few seconds after.

you didn't even feel like continuing because of how pissed of you were. what a bad way to ruin your fun.

it had been month since you last felt like you should treat yourself. get yourself off to be very specific.

and when you decide to finally try out your very first vibrator, the universe decides its not your day.

stepping out of the bathroom, still uncomfortable with the sensitivity between your legs. unintentionally edging yourself and eventually giving up entirely on trying to make yourself cum.

you blamed it on the vibrator. that darned cursed object.

flinging it on the bed in annoyance.

a small little sticky note is placed on the lamp on your bedside table. its from felix.

he had yelled goodbye while you were still showering (more like struggling). and you had yelled back, acknowledging him.

i'll be going out with chris for an hour or so. minho-hyung will be coming to our room in 20 minutes. im sowwy but he really needed a place to chill at...seungmin is studying and needs no disturbances....so i told minho he could stay in our room for a couple hours.

don't worry, bubssss i'll be back soon so things don't get awkward between yall!!!

MAYBE TRY AND GET ALONG?!

- lixie ☆

now this pisses you off even more. why the hell was everything going exactly the opposite of what you wanted.

lee minho was the last person you'd want in your shared dorm room. minho was literally gonna be coming here.

it had been almost 15 minutes since felix left. that means he'd be here anytime soon. before you even get the chance to hang your towel on the back of your chair, someone knocks on the door.

"fuckin minho of all people"

its real frustration at this point. nevertheless you open the door for him. taken aback by the attire he's in.

it was the very first time you'd ever seen him so...put together? dressed up?

what you meant was he was in semi formal attire ; a mixture of badboy or rather biker boy vibes.

"whats up with the outfit" you say, gesturing to him entirely. pointing out the leather jacket he had thrown on. it fitted him well. a bit too well.

the ripped jeans hugged his thighs. thick and muscular. a reminder that he works out and is a dancer.

"do i need a reason to wear what i feel like wearing?"

his cockiness has your fists itching to punch him straight in the nose. he huffs out a deep breath, walking right into the room. as if he owned the place. he had been here a number of times with felix. but it still pissed you off.

"fuck off" you mutter under your breath. closing the door and walking back to your bed.

that is until you see him plopping himself down on your bed. YOUR BED.

"what'd you say?" minho repeats. he has a few raspberries in his hand.

did he carry them all across campus..to eat them here ? you sometimes question his questionable habits and ways of thinking.

"don't feel like telling you" you cock back. placing your hands on your face and sighing.

were you that needy that for some reason his cologne made your breath fasten-

"what's gotten you so..." his voice trails off, beginning to question why you were so irritable. "...hot and bothered."

"i am not hot and bothered so kindly shut up"

you blurt out, blinking at him and thats when you realise.

where had you thrown the vibrator? did you put it back in your hiding spot or was it still in the bathroom...

"this says otherwise." and to your worst nightmare, minho is holding up the toy.

its like your blood runs cold. theres nothing you can say. or do. except go speechless and motionless.

"pretty cheap, don't you think?" observing it so casually. you feel yourself get wetter. his fingers catching it mindlessly.

"s-stop playing around with it" you stutter, suddenly feeling shyer than ever.

minho smirks and you unconciously press your thighs together.

"it doesn't work properly, does it."

switching it on. it buzzes loudly in the silence of the room. its vibrations are hardly anything.

you've had enough and you grab his wrist. pausing in shock when the buzzing becomes louder. you can feel it vibrating.

he presses down on it harder and it nearly vibrates out of his grip.

how had he managed to get it to its highest setting-

"did you cum? or are you just staining your panties right now as we speak." he snorts out, manspreading.

"cause this wasn't even switched on properly"

☆

you find yourself laying on your back. his hand slithered past the waistband of your pants. pressing it right over your cunt. teasingly moving the rounded tip up and down.

"needy pussy"

he's on top of you. smirking and observing every single change in your expressions.

"min-hho-" squirming under him. your hands flying down to weakly tug on his wrist. eyes struggling to stay focused.

"i must admit. hearing you say my name like that makes me want to see how you'll be if I fuck you"

sadistically keeping his pressure firm. nudging it under your panties.

"you're so much better like this, baby"

minho smirks. chuckling at the way you push yourself deeper into the bed. hips bucking upwards to escape his teasing. its cold when it comes in contact with your clit. the tips of his fingers rubbing into your folds everytime he played around with the toy.

"lee.minho a-ah" you writhe out, voice turning whiny. the familiar sensation builds up. except its more intense than ever.

he purposely turns the setting lower and you whimper in disappointment.

"maybe if i rub this..." pushing the vibrator all over your folds. a breathy gasp escaping his lips at how slicked up your cunt was.

"...or maybe if i touch this soaked cunt" dropping the vibrator and slipping his index finger through your slippery swollen lips.

"shit baby, did i get you this wet." and you know he's going to tease you for days if not months.

"you hate me, d-don't you" you whisper,shooting him a glare when he traces a digit over your clit.

eyes widening and breath quickening with how he maintains eye contact with you. bringing his head down to grunt in your ear. his fingers slapping your pussy meanly.

you whine, gripping his biceps. the leather jacket thrown on the edge of your bed.

"i hate you alright." he whispers, rubbing into your wetness slowly. minho chuckles. "filthy girl. you're throbbing on my fingers"

"i hate you so much that i jerk off to your pictures or that tone you use when you're pissed at me...i hate you to the point I cum so hard just picturing you taking my dick"

you can't control the fluttering feeling. coating his fingers even more so.

"i h-hate you more"

theres no heat in your words. gasping and legs quivering against his thicker thighs. keeping you open, unable to close your legs around his hand.

"hm, you do? tell me how much you hate me, kitten"

"i d-do...f-fuck" eyes rolling back in pleasure. desperately trying to chase your orgasm but he doesn't let you.

"yeah? you hate me so much that you're letting me touch you." minho says, voice going deeper. his ears are a shade of red and his lips parted.

"you're wet and begging for more under me. is that cause you hate me, sweetheart. or is that just you being you"

he quickens his pace. circling hard over your swollen and aching clit.

till you're throwing your hands around his neck. pulling him onto you entirely while you cum. its the hardest you've ever orgasmed.

maybe it was cause it had been so long...or you were sure it was because of him.

"there we go, good kitty" riding your high.

taking you by surprise when he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. so you push a few strands of hair out of his face. not letting go of him just yet.

"don't call me that" you whisper, struggling to hold in your smile. his lips curve upwards into a subtle smirk. kissing your neck slowly..

"but now that I know you're so pliant, i claim you as one of my cats"

your legs giving in when he gets up. wiping his coated fingers on his jeans. it leaves a wet stain.

"again as I said." you lift your head up, confused.

"this thing is useless!" grabbing the vibrator like he had personal beef with it. flinging it casually somewhere behind you.

"choose me. customize, personal talk, boyfriend material, protection...all in one package, baby"

pointing to himself.

he reaches over to the abandoned raspberries on the counter. walking back to stuff one small red berry in your mouth. smiling when you savour it.

"good kitty"

.

.

"is that minho hyung's jacket you're wearing?" felix' eyes widen. wondering why you were wearing the leather jacket.

"yeah and he told me i could wear it when i meet him for dinner tonight" you reply, lacing your boots up.

"YOU'RE HAVING DINNER WITH HIM?!"

.

.

.

.

.

.

I wanna be his dinner- GOD HE'S SO ARGHSBSJAKJW HAHAHAHIWHEHSHS

[frecht]

my friend is always like ugh i hate having no work to do i love cramming and then she doesn't do her work when she has only one class on wednesdays and only one class on fridays and none on mondays and then she cancels plans for having too much work. this happens repeatedly. >:( it is really getting on my nerves.

[auroreliis]

Hi! If you're comfortable with it, could I request batfams reactions to a reader who's suddenly clingy on their period or something similar? Normally I like my personal space but I am desperate for some type of warmth because cramps are actually killing me 💔

Bruce would still keep his distance, as he knows you don’t like physical touch. However, he would still be around you more, always asking if you need something. Anything sweet? Any pads? Any source of warmth? He will provide it immediately and be very understanding to you lashing out (don’t worry, he knows you can’t control it).

"What is it? You need pain killers?" He rumages in the bag he brought with him and hands you some pain killers.

"Hm? Chocolate? Yes, right awa-...what? Oh, oreo chocolate...? Mh. Fine, I'll go get some."

Dick would be very cuddly, almost as though HE’S on the period. He would hug you and sometimes even carry you around, despite your complaints…

“PUT ME DOWN YOU OVERSIZED CIRCUS CLOWN”

“:(”

Would he put you down? Well, yes. However, only at the destination. Then, after putting you down, he would take a step back and remain at that distance for about 5 minutes. After that, he would hug you again. And so the cycle repeats.

It does annoy you a lot, however, he is COMPLETELY unbothered by your shouting and your complaining. Like, dude. Take a fucking hint, will you? Obviously, since he’s already there, he also provides you with whatever you need. This means: If you want him to leave while also making him think that he’s doing you a favour, go send him to do something like getting you food or spare clothes. He will happily skip off, thinking he’s gaining your favour.

Jason would be playing with fire, always bothering you with stupid requests.

“So, wanna come to the library with me? I wanna go read something, but I also want you to be there”

You grumble, clearly declining his request.

“Well? Yes or no?” He is not taking the hint.

“No.” You mutter.

“What? A little louder, please”, he leans in closer.

“I SAID NO. Leave me the fuck alone. I want nothing to do with you. Haven’t I made that clear? Are you too stupid to notice? Do I need to be more direct?”

“:d”

At that point, he gives up for his own safety.

Tim, the leech, uses this opportunity, almost viewing it as a blessing.

“Heyyyyy, I have a heating pouch and all your favourite snacks and drinks and your favourite show prepared. If you come over to my room, I’ll make sure that nobody enters beside you and me AND I’ll let you take up the whole bed while I sit on a chair. What do you say? Wanna come to my room? :)”

If you foolishly decide to reject his offer, he will work hard to come up with something more alluring. Tim doesn’t give up easily.

Damian remains professional. He would probably create a presentation highlighting why you should ask him for help during hard times and not his brothers.

“Sibling. I am able to provide you with anything you require. As you know, whatever I provide is better than what anyone else in this manor could provide, hence why you should only ask me for help. Additionally, I am not as pushy as the other rejects, so taking up my offers is most ideal for you too. My goal is to help you, while their goal is to be in your proximity. Compare our values and see which you are most satisfied with.”

Stephanie and Cassandra completely understand. Despite how hard the others try, the girls would naturally be of most help. They’ve been there, they just get it. They also don’t annoy you, so you spend most of your period by their side. They just aren’t as loud and pushy as the others.

Secret bonding moment unlocked.

With special permission from Bruce (which they got with a lot of yapping and convincing), they get a hotel room and stay there with you until your period is over. This is very refreshing, as you don’t have to deal with the boys anymore and finally have some peace.

Honestly, the manor is always full at all times, but now it’s just the 3 of you. You all bond and have fun while the rest misses you. No, seriously, prepare for lots of cuddles to make up for your lacking presence </3

[tame-the-lion-writes]

FLUFF TIME!! (While I’m in class don’t mind me) Reader and her boys surrounding her, everytime she heads to bed the boys follow, and when she has to get up, they whine (Soap). Why is she leaving? Isn’t it cuddle/eepy time?? Whenever she has delivery and has to receive it at the door (and has to leave in bed) they whine but follow anyways.

9/10 chance one of them tugs her clothe towards the bedroom because they are eepy and want to sleeb and that means it’s also her sleeb time.

Imagine she to take work home and is in bed typing in her laptop at 1 AM (while the sound of the keyboard is luring them to sleep, the light is a bother). One of them just pushes the laptop close and softly borks (it is past eepy time)

(I, too, am currently in class as I write this, and should probably pay more attention because we're covering Fourth Amendment rights BUT ANYWAY—also combining this with another Anon’s ask bc they were talking about their German Shepherd getting them to bed on time lol)

The boys may be strange and chaotic, but they're always hell bent on taking care of you. And that often means forcing you to take care of yourself.

Before them, you were just barely clinging to life. Now that you were out of university, there was no rigid routine to keep you in line, so you kinda just... fell apart. An inconsistent sleep schedule with 2-3 hour naps in the afternoon, only to stay up 'til 4 AM. Skipping breakfast because some days, you'd wake up at 11. And on days when you did have breakfast, it would just be a leftover slice of cake or pie, because you didn't wanna cook.

Things have gotten much better since you adopted these weird floofsters, seen as you've finally set an alarm so you can walk them in the morning, and are forced to buy groceries on a regular basis. Still, that doesn't mean there aren't tougher days when you fall back into old habits. That's when the boys come to the rescue.

Nobody eats until you eat. It's like a pact between them—even Soap refuses, and he's the most voracious eater. Price also insists that you eat properly—even when you're picky, he'll refuse to budge unless you grab some fruits and veggies from the supermarket. And Gaz straight up sneaks snacks into your cart when you're not looking, so you only notice when you're already in the check-out line, and it would be rude to go back. They also tug on your clothes or nip you to get you to bed on time.

You’re allowed no less than seven hours of sleep minimum—and bed is, at latest, midnight. Whereas the other boys are more occupied with taking care of your daytime activities, Ghost, true to his breed’s instincts, herds you at night; he’s the first to follow you out of bed if you try and sneak away, and he WILL stare creepily at you while blocking the doorway if you attempt to leave the room. The intimidation is extra effective in the dark and you see those reflective eyes peering out from the shadows. At first, you panicked and threw a blanket at him so he'd stop with his cryptid-ness. Nowadays, you throw the blanket over yourself, knowing he’s not gonna let you crawl back to your laptop.

You've tried to control his herding instincts by following tips on YouTube and Reddit, but it's like bargaining with a brick wall. Sleep—or else.

[for-a-longlongtime]

Guilty Pleasure (1/7) - dbf!Joel x reader

You're home from college for the summer, staying with your parents in Austin, TX. So is your dad's best friend, Joel Miller. Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 42), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy', outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 2.3K A/N: If you know/follow me, you're probably just as shocked as I am to see a dbf!Joel fic by my hand. Totally get it if it's not your thing, please feel free to move on and skip this one. However - if you've read and enjoyed other fics by me, you may wanna give it a try! Submitting this also to @hellishjoel who is organizing the #hotdilfsummerchallenge (go check out all the other fics on her page!) 💜

series masterlist | main masterlist next chapter >

You don’t hate him. Not exactly. 

But he doesn’t need to know that. 

“I’m just so damn sick of him, you know? He thinks he’s so important and hot shit. People are fawning about him all the damn time, but he’s just my dad and an asshole,” you sigh to your best friend on the other end of the Facetime call. You’re in an Uber headed to your parents’ house, desperate for time away from school and your cheating ex. Your mom had been excited that you would be spending the summer break with them in Austin, and assured you that your father would be too. As IF. 

“I thought that maybe I could just relax, but no. Everything is about my dad again. He started this big... I don’t even know what. Project. Venture. Mission. Did you see it on tv? He’s on the news all the damn time.” Just the thought alone already makes you cringe, and you’re glad to see your friend nod at you, requiring no further explanation - she knows all about your father. “So I figured he won’t be in my way when I’m home. But now his friend Joel is staying at the house, too. The entire fucking summer. Who even does that?”

Your father and Joel had been friends for a long time, even before you were born, but you struggled to remember anything about him. He was a contractor, running his own company for quite a while now, and he had a brother named Tommy. “They’re working on renovating his house, so he needed a place to stay. It’s not like he’ll be in your way, sweetheart. Most of the time he’s out working for clients,” your mom had assured you, reminding you there were more than just a few spare bedrooms at the house. But to you, it didn’t matter; he would be in the way. You just knew it. Ruining your summer. The last thing you needed was a constant reminder of your dad shaped as Joel, hanging around the house.

“No, I don’t know much about him - it’s been years since I saw him.” You wince as you see your parents’ house down the street, and for a moment you’re tempted to ask the Uber driver to circle around the block one more time. “Look, I’m here - I have to go. Wish me luck, call me later,” you plead with your friend as the car pulls up to the oversized driveway. It takes a moment to get all your suitcases out of the car, since the driver merely watches you with an impatient frown on his face, but then you’re finally stumbling towards the front door. 

It’s good to be in Austin again, but you haven’t missed the Texas heat - and humidity - for one bit. All you want right now is a pizza and a very, very strong drink to forget about the shitty trip you just had. But it seems not even that is in the cards for you right now, as nobody bothers to come to the door after you’ve loudly rang the doorbell. Not even on the third try. Just when you’re about to start screaming in frustration, you finally hear footsteps rushing down the hallway. 

“Mom, why did you not–,” you start when the door swings open, but the words immediately stick in your throat as you stare at the man in front of you. Tall, strong, and handsome, looking much better than he had any right to while being dressed in old jeans and a t-shirt - courtesy of those arms in particular, and a mouth that immediately gave you ideas about where he should put it. Jesus Christ. 

“Joel…?”, you finally manage when your brain seems to catch up with the low throb you’re feeling in your pussy. You do not remember your dad’s best friend looking this hot, or smelling so good - the sandalwood in his cologne reminds you of more than just a couple of debauched nights on campus that you’d had in the past year. But this was clearly not one of the frat boys that surrounded you during your classes or evenings out. This was a whole ass DILF, somewhere in his early forties like your parents, and it takes you effort to not whimper as you take him in.

Your core aches just from looking at him, a painful reminder of how many weeks it has been since you’d last had an orgasm that didn’t come from your own hand or a toy. Finding out that your piece of shit ex-boyfriend had been running around with several other girls had been a harsh way to end the semester, but at least it made you decide to spend the summer here in Texas. And that decision suddenly seems like a very, very good idea in retrospect.

It’s only when Joel says your name, an amused smirk playing over his face, that you realize you’ve definitely been staring at him. “Hey, kiddo. Been a while. D’you need a hand with that?”, he asks, and as you hear his drawl, you’re pretty damn sure that you’ve never heard that man sound anything like this. Goddamn. Hot in every way, it seems, it seems - you may have never before appreciated a Texas accent as much as you like his.

He doesn’t wait for your response, but simply takes over two of your suitcases and a duffle bag like they weigh nothing. “Nicole- I mean, your mom asked me to help you get you settled, she’s gonna be back in a few hours,” he says, keeping the front door open with one strong shoulder so you can get into the house. 

“Thanks, that’s so nice of you,” you manage to say as you follow him through the house, to your bedroom on the second floor. Walking behind him is the perfect excuse to take in his physique, and you freely let your eyes roam over his strong shoulders and broad back, and you can tell you’re getting wet just by looking at him. God, he’s fit. Especially for a guy who is probably twenty years older than you are. Those arms… Was he single? And - did that even matter, really? 

You realize that you must’ve zoned out and missed something he’s said to you, because he gives you a questioning look when you’re both standing in your childhood bedroom. The decoration, colors and posters are still familiar to you, but in a detached way, like you’re looking at them in a photo album of someone you used to be, in sharp contrast to who you are now and the man in front of you.

“I said that I hope I won’t be in your way this summer. Your parents are happy you’re staying here with them,” he says, then surprises you by giving you a friendly, brief hug. “It’s good to see you again, kid.” You gladly accept the hug, and you can’t help but bury your face against his shoulder for just a moment, inhaling his cologne and the underlying subtle tone of his natural scent. That’s when you internally make up your mind, right there on the spot.

You want him.

Now, and for the rest of the summer. 

And if that pissed off your father? All the better.

Once you’re sure he’s left the hallway outside of your room, you grab your phone and immediately google his name, checking through his online profiles. No mention of any wife or girlfriend. Perfect. When you find his Instagram, your jaw drops at the photos you see of Joel clearly working hard and dripping sweat. Almost pornographic, really.

With a few taps you send the pictures to your best friend, quickly adding the caption ‘sooo i decided I’m gonna be his inappropriately young gf for the summer’. Her response pings almost instantly, as you expected, a barrage of emojis and ‘OMG GIRL YESSSS GET THAT DILF’. You can’t help but chuckle as you send a quick message back to her, ‘more later xxx’, then turn off the sound on your phone.

For a moment you consider unpacking all of your luggage, which would definitely be the more practical thing to do. On the other hand, your parents are not gonna be home in the next few hours, and since Joel’s room didn’t seem too close to yours to overhear anything…

You sigh in relief when you find the silky bag in your luggage that stores your sex toys, and pull out your favorite clit sucker without a moment of hesitation. Quick and dirty, that’s what you need right now, you decide as you get onto the bed. After a moment of hesitation, you re-open Instagram and scroll back to Joel’s page, while you reach for your AirPods in the hidden pocket of your dress. 

His profile is clearly promotional for his company - Miller & Co -, and you vaguely recognize his brother Tommy in some shots, but fortunately the focus is mostly on him. When you click on Reels and see several videos of him at work, your heart starts racing, your mouth going dry while you feel the exact opposite happening in your panties. Fuck, he is so hot. If you thought the view you had while walking behind him was good, it sure is nothing compared to seeing him work on construction projects that show him flexing those muscles, jeans clinging desperately onto his thighs the way you would like your hands to do.

You’re stroking yourself already after the second video, and by the time you’re treated to the sight and sound of him lifting lumber with a grunt, you’ve got two fingers deep inside of your pussy. You whimper as you imagine he’s in your room watching you with those dark eyes. Your breathing grows heavy as you picture him getting on the bed, giving you that sexy smirk as he puts his head between your thighs so he can lick at your wetness. His bottom lip had tempted you from the start, and you just know it would feel so good as he’d circle your clit with his tongue. 

You can barely suppress a moan as your hips buck up hard, and you press the toy closer against yourself, thrusting your slick fingers faster as you chase the release that’s close - so so very close already. What if he buried that stubble against your thighs, urging your fingers out of yourself so he could lick them clean, his lips closing around your digits as he’d suck on you. Brown eyes filled with desire, reflecting how much you want him too, and then the push of his tongue inside your cunt as he starts to eat you out. 

You whisper his name quietly as your body starts to shake, hearing him moan contently as he works you up some more, then comes up for air, slipping two - no, three of his thick fingers roughly inside of you, just as demanding as his mouth is. “Good girl. Now come f’me.”

You gasp as the orgasm ripples through you, much faster than you expected, and you bury your face into your pillow so you won’t cry his name out loud. Before the waves of your orgasm have subsided, you flip yourself to your stomach as you keep the buzzing toy in place, grinding down harder on your fingers as you shudder from the overstimulation. Still you keep going, because it’s what Joel would do - you know it’s what he would want, tease you and push you to make you come again and again. 

He’d make you cry his name out loudly, until you’re writhing against him like a feral cat in heat, desperate as you’re begging him for his cock so he can fuck you into the mattress, claiming you and demanding to own every part of you. His sweaty heavy body covering yours, lips and teeth drawing more gasps from you, until your head becomes completely devoid of any thoughts, only able to focus on how good he’s making you feel - how his thickness is throbbing inside of you, going deeper than anyone has been before, and you know that he’s about to ruin you for any other men, because it’s never going to be better than it is with him.

As your body convulses and you’re about to come again, you suddenly hear your name being called loudly from downstairs - not by Joel, but the shriller sound of your mom’s voice as she’s looking for you. It takes everything you have to restrain yourself from yelling angrily at the interruption, your mind and body at war with each other for a second, and you bite your lip hard as you mentally grab onto the fantasy of Joel, unwilling to let go of it - of him. 

“Coming!,” you snap loudly, hoping that she won’t be able to hear the panting in your voice, or the buzzing toy in your hand. “Be right there!”

‘Good fucking girl. Such a dirty little slut for me,’ imaginary-Joel whispers at you, pounding into you, and you know he’s about to come too. “Give it to me again. Wanna feel you soak my cock,” the whisper changing into a low hiss that sends shivers down your spine. You bury your face even further into the pillow as you whine his name, begging him for more, to pump his seed into you and fill you up. He laughs, the sound hoarse and taunting, and then his hand grabs a hold of your hair and tugs your head back up. “No hiding. You scream my name when I make you come, you hear me?”, he grunts at you - and you bite your lip as you come hard again, soaking your fingers for a second time as the orgasm rocks you so much harder than the first one did.

Fuck. FUCK. You need him, every part of him, so goddamn bad. 

next: part 2 >

🚨 Follow @longlongtime-updates for updates when new chapters drop!

A/N II: Thank you @magpiepills @legendary-pink-dot @lotusbxtch @sin-djarin @mountainsandmayhem

@qveerthe0ry @perotovar for encouraging me to write a wild idea that suddenly came to mind. This came together shockingly fast with ideas and feedback from all of them, so thank you babes for supporting and enabling me! Fic title is obviously snagged from Chappell Roan's 'Guilty Pleasure'!