#bday drabble

[princessphilly]

It’s about to be my birthday in 9! days!!

So, it’s time to celebrate but in a Different way.

I want to give the gifts, 🥳🤣

Pick out of these guys:

Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Robert “Bob” Floyd

Ari Levinson

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Nick Fowler

Lloyd Hansen

Walter Marshall

Thor Odinson

Charles Brandon

Captain Syverson

And pick either

Sweet

Steamy

Angst

And I’ll post a 100-150 word smutty drabble for you!

Inbox is open if you are interested!

Tagging moots: @jostystyles @jobean12-blog @withahappyrefrain @witchywithwhiskey @buckets-and-trees @targaryenvampireslayer @biteofcherry @vonalyn @chara-hugs @angryschnauzer @geralts-yenn @thezombieprostitute @icecoldbloodtype @iguana-braces @hangmanssunnies @evansrogerskitten @cevansbrat0007 @fenixstar @fineanddandy @ramp-it-up

[ok-boomerang]

if those two don't kill each other, Sokka might lend a hand

a zutara drabble

HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO MY DEAREST @hneyteacup. I wrote a birthday drabble inspired by one of your faves, SPUFFY. I however have never seen Buffy and in fact I just found out the fate of Spuffy approximately 30 seconds ago lol, BUT STILL, this drabble is inspired by them, for you 💕 HBD!!!! ILY!

--

The others might buy Zuko’s little transformation, but not Katara.

She knows exactly how sympathetic he can make his sorry life seem, all in the pursuit of Fire Nation supremacy.

So that’s why she’s been interrogating Zuko in his room for the past 15 minutes. She’s made him promise he won’t fire bend at her, and she did not feel a tinge of regret when he frowned and said he would never, sounding almost hurt.

Even so, Katara stands at the ready in front of him, hands sheathed in water just in case Zuko decides to break her rule.

“So you’re telling me you saw the soldiers that were following us back in Fire Fountain City. And yet you can’t describe them?” she asks, voice dripping with disdain.

Zuko groans and rolls his eyes, almost as if this was nothing more than an annoying hassle for him rather than the serious interrogation it was. He waits a beat, staring angrily at the floor, before he lifts his head to meet her eyes.

“Well, they were human,” he says, voice annoyingly sweet. “Two legs. Two arms.”

Katara scowls.

“They were wearing helmets,” Zuko says in exasperation. “Am I supposed to be able to recognize soldiers by the way they walk?”

“Maybe!”

At this point, Sokka enters with a steaming cup of tea. He takes one look between the two—the scowl on the prince’s face and the murderous intent on Katara’s, and mutters, “Not sure you know what you’re doing, sis.”

At this, Katara transfers her glare to her brother, though he only rolls his eyes too.

Katara huffs and takes the tea that Sokka brought, silently dismissing him. Sokka sends what seems to be an apologetic look (traitor!) to Zuko before wordlessly exiting.

“It’s about time,” says Zuko when Katara hands him the mug of tea. “Hope he got it warm enough, since you’re forbidding me from bending.”

Katara ignores him. “How did you even get here?” she snaps, hoping that asking this question for the umpteenth time will expose how he’d been following them for weeks (which was likely!) or how he’d kidnapped some of their friends to get their location (even more likely!).

“I told you; I stole a war balloon and followed you from Caldera.” He takes a sip of his tea and sighs. “I’m done. Let me talk to Aang.”

“Not yet! I’m not done!”

Zuko purses his lips but doesn’t argue any longer.

“How did you break into the North Pole?” Katara finally asks.

Really? Zuko’s expression seems to ask.

For some reason, he smirks at her. “Hmm, I’m not sure.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m trying to remember,” he says, putting down his tea to make a show of tapping his chin. “It was very traumatic.”

“How long are you going to pull this crap?”

“How long are you going to keep me prisoner in my own room?”

Katara sniffs. “I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me something worthwhile.” Until he proves to her that allowing him to stay here will have some sort of benefit.

“Fine,” Zuko says, lying back and stretching out on his bed. One arm holds his head up as he watches Katara over his nose. “We can stay here all day and all night, with you—what did you call it?—interrogating me.” He smirks again, the crooked expression on his face downright infuriating.

Katara abruptly changes tactics, crossing her arms and stepping toward him, the water falling from her hands in large splashes that she ignores. “You know what, I don’t think you want me to leave you alone,” she says slowly, her lip curling in satisfaction. “I’m the only one who will talk to you, anyway.”

Zuko’s smirk falls, and Katara feels a little flame of triumph in her chest roar to life.

“Right, I don’t want you to leave me alone,” he parrots, the bite back in his voice. “I definitely want to be constantly reminded how much you hate me.”

Katara does not feel another twinge of regret. She does not push anything away.

Instead, she falls to her knees with a mocking gasp.

“Does his highness require better accommodations?” she says, her voice warbling. “Better amenities?”

“Katara—” Zuko says, unamused.

“An innocent victim to burn, perhaps?”

“Katara, please—” Zuko says, voice more serious. But she keeps going.

“Do you require a maiden before you cooperate?” she taunts, crawling toward him and exposing her neck. “What about me? Will I do?”

At this point, Zuko is exhaling smoke, but he’s not bending. She wonders how far she can goad him. She crawls closer until she’s at the edge of his bed and mockingly reaching toward him.

“Please, your highness, what must we do to please you?!” she all but shrieks, vaguely feeling like she would make a great actress as Zuko slowly shakes his head, as if to say What did I do to deserve this?

Well, she can think of a lot of things!

Just when she thinks of naming all those things to Zuko, she suddenly hears the swish of a cloak behind her and the sound of wood hitting the ground. Her and Zuko both turn toward the noise, to see Aang, a confused smile on his face, his ears a little pink, and his glider in his hand.

“Um—Katara—I think I’ll talk to Zuko now,” says Aang slowly, eying her strangely. She’s about to ask what’s up with him before she realizes her arms are sprawled beseechingly toward Zuko, her body half on his bed and half on the ground.

“Right, yes!” she says, getting up daintily and wiping her tunic with her hands as if what she’d been doing was perfectly normal. “I’ll just be—”

Inexplicably, she looks back to Zuko, who is also watching her, bemused.

“Bye!” she squeaks to the room with a hurried wave.

She’s talking to Aang, of course. Not Zuko.

Definitely not Zuko.

[urfriendlywriter]

birthday prompts for loversss !

(feel free to usee<3 tag mee!! inspired by my b'day haha. plot twist is i am single :))

staying up to wish them at midnight

you bring them a cake, singing hbd, but all their attention is on you.

hugs you, tearing up, breaking down because nobody has done this for them ever

intimate b'day celebrations like it's just you and them and every whisper of hbd and well wishes are so comforting <3

cupcake b'day celebrations!

them hugging u from behind as they watch u make a wish

"what did u wish for?" u ask as a soft murmur and they say, "you. to never let u go."

i celebrated my bestie's b'day and she said to me,

^ "thank u for loving me every year and making me feel like i am being loved by someone,"

^ "knowing that, that someone is you, is what matters." (i won in LIFEE)

"how's my favorite b'day girl/boy doing?" :))

maybe it's their first time having their b'day being celebrated, :(

and all they can do is bury their face into ur neck and cry. the cake abandoned for a moment until they gain composure.

when they write u letters on ur b'day,

or give u thought-out gifts.

wiping cake from the corners of their lips

or alternatively just kissing it away, making them fluster. (uhm.. didn't happen on my bday, who's lyINGG-)

a quiet whisper of happy birthday,

tight hugs and lingering kisses throughout the day, and just feeling loved by the other person. feeling their emotions of gratitude to have u in their life!

telling them or writing to them, "It's your [age] birthday, and so [age] reasons why I love you." (eg: 20th, 19th and so on)

[heich0e]

iwaizumi got a lower back tattoo on his 21st birthday.

if you showed one hundred people in the street a photo of 30-year-old hajime, and then surveyed them as to whether or not they think he has a lower back tattoo, it's unlikely more than one of them would say yes—and even the one who did probably just misheard the question. it's as unbelievable a thought as any, and still somehow it's true.

he was 21, legally drunk for the first time in america, and hanamaki and matsukawa had finally come to california to visit him to mark the occasion. it was kind of a stupid trip, they realized afterwards, because issei and hiro were still only 20 and couldn't even go out to the bars near UC irvine that all of iwa's college friends were inviting him out to for the first time.

but he didn't mind.

he bought them beer and sugary canned cocktails from the convenience store near campus using the birthday money his nanay sent him, silently repenting in his mind as the store clerk in the polyester vest rang the expensive purchase through. then they all got drunk in iwa's tiny student apartment while they played video games, called oikawa, and eventually wandered out into the warm california night in search of food.

the details beyond that are fuzzy, but the lines inked into the little space at the bottom of hajime's spine are not—even after nine whole years.

most people have no idea about the tattoo—and hajime has gone to great lengths to keep it that way. he wears a compression t-shirt at the gym so there's no risk of it riding up and accidentally revealing it. he orders patches to conceal it on the rare occasion he goes to onsens. he never showers with the athletes at work, always either opting to shower at home, shower after the team, or use the staff facilities when available.

but in spite of all of that, he's not embarrassed of it.

he doesn't even really regret it.

it's just not anybody else's business.

the ink on his skin is a secret kept between him, matsukawa, hanamaki, the guy who tattooed him, and oikawa who was screaming on facetime in the background while it happened.

and now you, too.

your hand snakes up the back of hajime's sweatshirt as he stands at the stove preparing breakfast, cool fingertips tracing the curls of ink even without seeing them—having long mapped them to memory. hajime suppresses a shiver, not expecting the contact, as you crowd yourself closer to his back and lean your weight against him.

"i was trying not to wake you," he says quietly, the hand not holding the chopsticks he's flipping his omelette with reaching behind him in search of you.

"you didn't," you murmur into his back, catching his seeking hand in yours and twining your fingers together. "smelled food."

hajime laughs to himself, his eyes crinkling. he squeezes your fingers tightly as his heart thuds in his chest.

underneath his sweatshirt, your nails rake lightly against his skin.

"shouldn't i be making your breakfast?"

hajime transfers his omelette to the plate waiting beside the stove, flicking off the burner and then turning to face you. he wraps his arms around you and holds you properly now, your face burrowing into the collar of his hoodie the way you always do, his nose brushing your temple.

"wanted to let you sleep a bit longer," hajime grunts out, his cheeks burning a bit hot—still shy, sometimes, even after so much time has passed. "thought you might be tired after..."

you snort, your head popping up to look at him. "after you fucked me within an inch of my life into the wee hours of the morning?"

the fire burning under hajime's skin grows even hotter. he splutters a little, and struggles to meet your gaze.

"i'm not tired," you whisper, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. the incorrigible one he fell in love with. "we were celebrating, after all."

hajime's eyes are burning a little bit, to complement the stinging in his cheeks. you lift your hand up to his face so you can feel the heat of his skin, and he rests his own hand—larger, more calloused than your own—to rest overtop of it. he looks at you, and sees happiness reflected back at him in your gaze. so fathomless he thinks he could drown in it.

hajime turns his face into your touch, and his eyes flutter closed as he noses against your palm.

he presses a kiss there. soft. adoring.

then another, just slightly higher, to the ring he put on your finger the night before.

he peeks at you again, that same heat in his cheeks, though not nearly as unbearable.

he's got another secret he doesn't regret now, one just as permanent as the ink in his skin, but this one won't stay hidden long. eventually he'll call his parents, and his nanay will probably get teary. then he'll tell his friends, who will put his mother's tears to shame. he'll leave the tattoo artist out of it this time, though—wherever that guy is now.

"happy birthday, hajime," you whisper to him with a smile he can't help but return.

he might keep this secret between the two of you today, though. just for a little while longer.

it'll be his gift to himself.

[nevvn]

Solomon bday countdown day 1: coffee

[nariism]

ೃ⁀➷ MY LOVE, MINE ALL MINE ★

a/n: fluff!! neuvillette being a touch starved loser (affectionate) + lots of terms of endearment. happy belated neuvillette day! may all neuvillette wanters be neuvillette havers ≧◡≦

Neuvillette can't stand coming home if not into your arms.

The deafening silence of a sleeping home drives him mad. It used to be welcomed after his terribly loud days. Now only serves to remind him of the millennium he spent alone, of the heartbreak he had to endure with no one to hold him, and of the growing emptiness within his heart long before he knew you.

It's unlike him to come home so late, but duty calls and as the Iudex of Fontaine he must go wherever summoned.

For days he has come home well into the latest hours of the night, sliding off his shoes in the darkness of the hall and allowing the silence to swallow him up whole. Five unbearably long days of missing your smile greeting him at the door, hands all over his face and squeezing his cheeks until he nudges them away in lieu of kissing you hello.

He expects tonight to be the same. It's so late that there was not a single soul wandering the streets of the city, no one awake to witness the very tired, very cranky Chief Justice.

You always find a way to defy his expectations.

The hall is quiet when he cracks open the front door. Crushing loneliness swells in his chest and sinks into the pit of his stomach when he realizes that you must have gone to bed long ago, as anyone sane would do. But then there's a click, followed by a small flame dancing in the dark.

You ignite an array of candles one by one, each additional glow illuminating your beautiful face in warm light. Neuvillette can't stop the hitching of his breath, nor the confusion knitted through his brows.

"What are you doing awake?"

You know he doesn't mean to scold you. Soft laughter fills his ears as you saunter over to him slowly. Realization crashes down on him as you approach, allowing him to see closer what has kept you up.

"Happy birthday, my love."

It's so late that midnight passed hours ago. He hadn't even realized amongst all the chaos of his work that the 17th had come and gone, making way for his birthday.

Only you would remember. It was a talent you had, memorizing every detail about him that sometimes even he lost track of.

("Neuvillette, dear, I picked up some dark roast on the way home today." He didn't even realize he had run out.

"Welcome home, I made ragout!" He wasn't aware he was craving it until you brought it up.

"Do you want this?" It's the last cookie in the bag, saved especially for him because you know it's from his favourite bakery in town.)

He leans in and blows out his candles, eyes never leaving yours as he blinks at you slowly. You look so beautiful even now, in the dimly moonlit hall. Darkness envelops your bodies again and yet he never tears his gaze away. Not even for a moment.

"Now put the cake down, please."

"Hm?" Your head tilts, clearly confused by his request.

"So I can hold you," he quickly explains, fingers itching at his sides because of how much he aches to hug you.

You gently set the cake down on the entrance table before you get scooped into a warm embrace, pressed snuggly to his chest as he memorizes the outline of your body against his once more.

"I've missed you, my dear," he says, face burrowed into the crook of your neck.

"It's only been a couple days," you laugh, and then remind him: "I see you every day at lunch."

"No, this is different." He pulls away slightly, forehead pressed against yours as he looks into your eyes. There's something in there— vulnerability and love all mixed into a beautiful purple harmony. "I miss coming home into your arms after long days," he admits.

"Oh, love," you breathe, reaching up to cup his face the way he's so used to. "Things will settle down again soon."

His eyes close as he savours your presence, soaking up all the affection you're giving him in his moment of weakness. You've always spoiled him.

"I suppose so," he agrees, a smile finally settling on his lips. Your thumb runs along it, tracing the curve of his happiness. There's a beat of silence before you open your mouth again.

"What did you wish for?" You ask curiously, voice growing quieter as you lean in to kiss him. And the answer he gives comes naturally.

Neuvillette has always wished for things he read about in novels; imaginary promises of treasure and desire and fame, sealed with the wispy smoke of blown out birthday candles. He isn't even sure if he has ever actually wanted any of those. But as he looks at you, with the slow beating of his heart and the brushing of your lips against him, he can't think of a single thing he could want more than this.

"I did not wish for anything," he tells you honestly, giving your waist a squeeze. "I already have everything I could ever want."

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[deansbeer]

★ SUNSETS, SOMBREROS, & SURPRISES // birthday boy edition.

SYNOPSIS. you surprise dean with a getaway to mexico for his birthday, complete with heartfelt gifts, a sunset stroll, and life-changing news.

WARNING(S). birthday fluff | f!reader | implied sex | post-sex cuddles | alcohol consumption | heartfelt declarations of love I mild strong language I dean's fear of flying (related to S1 EP4 of supernatural).

-> if i missed a warning, please do let me know !

KARI'S NOTES. happy bday to baby boy <3 he deserves everything in the entire world, and i believe (in my head) he is very much alive + living his best life after giving up hunting because S15 never happened. anyway! i hope u enjoy this, which was just sitting there in my notes all day <333

DEAN WINCHESTER'S birthday had always been a quiet affair—if it was celebrated at all. most years, it was just a beer, maybe a piece of pie if he was lucky, and maybe sam would remember to say something. it wasn't that he didn't appreciate the effort when it happened; it just wasn't something he was used to. birthdays were just days, right? another year older, another year spent fighting the good fight.

but this year, you weren't having it.

you'd been planning this trip for weeks, keeping everything under wraps as best as you could. it wasn't easy; dean had a way of sniffing out surprises, especially when it came to you. but somehow, you managed to keep him in the dark.

so when you told him—casually, over breakfast—that you had booked a trip for the two of you, his fork froze halfway to his mouth.

"a trip?" he repeated, brows furrowing.

you smiled, taking a sip of your coffee. "yep. two weeks, just you and me. no cases, no monsters, no bunker. just… us."

he gave you a suspicious look. "where?"

"mexico," you said, watching his reaction carefully.

dean blinked. "mexico?"

"mexico," you confirmed, grinning.

he set his fork down, leaning back in his chair. "and how exactly are we getting there? because i know baby's not built for that kinda trip."

you tried not to laugh. "we're flying."

his face immediately twisted into a grimace. "oh, hell no."

"dean—"

"nope. not happening. i'm not getting on a plane."

you sighed, reaching across the table to take his hand. "you survived it once, didn't you? besides, this isn't a hunt. it's a vacation. you have me with you the whole time, and i promise, nothing's gonna happen."

he stared at you, his jaw clenching like he was trying to come up with another excuse. but you gave him that look—the one that always made him cave—and he finally sighed, muttering, "fine. but if i die, i'm haunting your ass."

you laughed, squeezing his hand. "deal."

the flight itself was… tense. dean was on edge the entire time, gripping the armrests like the plane was about to fall out of the sky. you spent most of the flight holding his hand, rubbing soothing circles into his palm, and distracting him with small talk. by the time you landed, he seemed a little less tense, but he still muttered something about never doing this again as you grabbed your bags.

but once you stepped outside and felt the warm sun on your face, all of his complaints seemed to melt away. the two of you made your way to the hotel, checked in, and by the time you reached your room, dean was actually beaming.

the room was beautiful—large windows overlooking the ocean, a king-sized bed, and a balcony where you could hear the waves crashing in the distance. it was perfect.

"damn, sweetheart," dean said, dropping his bag and whistling low. "you really went all out, huh?"

"only the best for you, birthday boy," you teased, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

he turned in your arms, pulling you close. "you didn't have to do all this."

"i wanted to," you said simply, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him.

the rest of the evening you both spent it enjoying each other. after some steamy sex that left both of you tangled in the sheets, you laid together, the warm breeze from the open balcony door cooling your skin. dean had an arm draped over you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your shoulder as you rested your head on his chest.

"this is nice," he murmured, his voice low and content.

"yeah," you agreed, your fingers brushing over the ridges of his abs.

you had two surprises planned for him, but you decided to start with the one you knew he'd love.

the next evening, after a lazy morning spent in bed and a quick swim in the hotel pool, you and dean got ready to head out to a restaurant you'd researched weeks ago.

dean had noticed you staying up late in the bunker, your laptop open and your brow furrowed in concentration. he'd assumed it was for a hunt, maybe some research sam had roped you into. but now, he realized it had all been for this.

as you stepped into the restaurant, dean was immediately greeted by a group of staff who placed a large, brightly decorated sombrero on his head. you'd called ahead, asking if they could do something special for his birthday, and they'd certainly delivered.

he looked ridiculous, but the grin on his face was worth it.

"you planned this too?" he asked, glancing at you as he adjusted the sombrero.

"of course," you said, smiling. "it's your birthday, baby. i wanted it to be special."

the two of you spent the evening laughing, eating some of the best food dean had ever tasted, and him having a few drinks. you even ordered for him in spanish, your fluency leaving him both impressed and—if the look in his eyes was anything to go by—more than a little turned on.

"damn," he said after you helped him pronounce something on the menu. "never thought i'd find spanish sexy, but here we are."

you laughed, shaking your head. "glad i could surprise you."

later, as the two of you walked along the beach, the sun dipping below the horizon in a blaze of orange and pink, dean seemed more relaxed than you'd seen him in years. he was barefoot, his flip-flops dangling from his fingers, and his other hand was firmly clasped in yours.

you wore a long white summer dress, the fabric fluttering in the breeze, and dean couldn't stop stealing glances at you.

"you look beautiful, darlin'," he said softly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

you smiled, your cheeks warming. "you don't look so bad yourself, my love."

when you reached a pair of deck chairs, you both sat down, dean immediately pulling his closer to yours. his hands rested on your thighs, his touch warm and grounding as he stared out at the ocean.

you took the opportunity to pull out the first gift—a small envelope with his name written on the front in your neat cursive.

"what's this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as you handed it to him.

"open it and find out," you said, grinning.

he carefully tore it open, pulling out the letter and saw tickets inside. his eyes widened as he read the letter, and by the time he got to the tickets, his jaw had dropped.

"no fucking way," he breathed, staring at the words 'Metallica VIP' printed on the tickets.

"yes way," you said, laughing.

"you're serious?" he asked, looking at you like he couldn't believe it.

"dead serious. we're going as soon as we get back."

he was quiet for a moment, his eyes misting over as he looked back at the tickets. then he set them down and pulled you into his arms, kissing you all over your face.

"you're amazing, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

you laughed, brushing a tear from his cheek. "you deserve it, dean. you deserve everything."

he shook his head, his smile soft. "i don't know what i did to deserve you."

you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "you're you. that's enough."

after a moment, you pulled back, reaching behind you for the second gift.

"there's one more thing," you said, your voice growing a little shaky.

dean frowned slightly, his brows furrowing. "what more could you possibly—"

you held out the pregnancy test, your hands trembling slightly.

"i'm pregnant, baby," you said softly, your eyes searching his face.

for a moment, he just stared at you, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to find the right words. then a slow smile spread across his face, and he let out a choked laugh.

"you're serious?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

you nodded, tears streaming down your face. "yeah. i'm serious."

he let out a shaky breath, pulling you into his arms and spinning you around. you squealed, clinging to him as he laughed, his joy infectious.

when he finally set you down, he cupped your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your nose, and finally your lips.

"thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "thank you for… everything."

you smiled, resting your forehead against his. "happy birthday, my love."

that night, you celebrated with champagne — he drank one for you and himself — laughter, and the quiet promise of a future filled with love.

SPECIAL TAGS. @figthoughts @titsout4jackles @floralscented @aileenunfiltered @deanswidow @lacydollette @fallbhind @beausling @frosttbitessam @bluestrd @florchids @honeyryewhiskey @bluemerakis @deansbite @rafespreciosa @voidsuites . . . ☆

[berrryparfait]

sylus' birthdays are dedicated to you ✧˖°.

— ༉‧₊ᐟ a/n: you're wishing him a happy birthday. he's thanking you for saving his life <3 happy birthday to our fave white-haired dragon xx

god, he can't even remember what life was like before he met you—well, he does recall the shadows, the pain, the nights of endless torture; a part of him will never forget those horrible, wretched years. they'd stolen pieces of his life and left them to rot in a ditch, mangled and ruined beyond repair—but those memories are beginning to fade. it's gradual, a test of time, but he finds himself waking from those terrible nightmares by your side, where he's knows he's safe and free from judgement.

it's funny, really, how he feels the most secure around the only person who understands all of his weaknesses and vulnerabilities. at any point in time, you have the power to use those sore spots against him. he's been trained to assume the worst of humans—to shun them, to fear them. but he feels certain he has nothing to fear in your presence. why? why does she calm me so?

so each time you wish him a happy birthday, he simply stares at you and wonders how on earth such an impossible wish came true. he'd been reborn the day he met you—his real birthday.

what once was an endless, selfish black hole is now a tunnel—not void of darkness, but with light visible at its end. your touch guides him towards that light, flickering and unsure, yet unsnuffable all the same. who knows where that tunnel leads? he doesn’t know. but he’d keep running through its endless miles for even the mere chance that it’ll lead him into your arms.

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[323cutie]

9:21 pm. | jeong yunho

fluff. 500 words.

a/n the unofficial title of this drabble is "how could you be no one (when you're everything to me)" but thats too long and also this is a timestamp . But just know in ur heart thats the name of the fic

Yunho’s in your kitchen when you get home, standing behind a single cupcake with one candle stuck in the middle of the frosting on the counter. You catch him in the middle of lighting it, and once the candle officially lights he looks at you.

“Surprise,” is what he says after a small pause, voice tinged with his growing smile. Aside from a single lamp on in your living room, the candle is the only source of light, and it paints Yunho warm, orange. You don’t know why he’s here, not that you don’t want him; but didn’t he have –

“Practice?” You ask, confused. He’d said he would (regrettably) be stuck at tour rehearsals for your birthday, and it had been fine – just because you weren’t celebrating on your actual birthday didn’t make it any less special. But now he’s here and smiling and sweet.

“Ended way earlier than we thought,” Yunho answers, then with a teasing lilt, “disappointed?”

Normally you’d play along, respond with a witty remark, but despite all you’ve been gifted throughout the day Yunho and his one cupcake is hitting you the hardest. “Never,” you say, coming around the counter to stand next to him. One of your arms holds around his waist while his fingers immediately clear your hair out of your face. “Always wanna see you.”

He hums, and you see the flash of pink on the tips of his ears. “Your cupcake is gonna be covered in wax. Make a wish.”

It comes easy, and fast. Natural. You blow out your candle and pay the treat no mind, turning to face Yunho fully. It’s a little darker, but the light from your living room still casts him in an intimate glow. “That was fast,” he murmurs, letting both of his hands rest on your waist while yours rub up and down his arms. “What’d you wish for?”

You smile, lean closer. “Can’t tell you. It won’t come true.”

He reads your mind, pulls you in. “I think it might come true anyways.”

It’s a gentle, loving press of your lips to his, a moment belonging to nothing else except the feeling of each other. Work has been hard on both of you recently, and it gets harder and harder to see each other when Yunho’s preparing for another tour and you’re getting more assignments at work. Unfair, you think now. Unfair to keep us apart like this. Unfair when you fit perfectly together.

Yunho feels like coming home. Like something you know, like something you’ve always known. A tender tug at your heart whenever he’s around. A string wrapped around your finger, connected to him, inevitable.

When he breaks away from the kiss he presses his lips to the side of your head, holding you close. You cupcake is covered in wax, but you don’t mind. “Gonna tell me that wish?”

You hum, giggle, shake your head against his chest. “Nah,” you answer. “But you probably already know what it is.”

You look up at him, and he’s already looking at you. There’s a sparkle, a glow, a flash of something you’ve never experienced but know already. Hydrangeas and ocean waves and a soft weight on your ring finger.

“Yeah,” Yunho says, nodding fondly. “I think I do.”

[gojo-mochi]

Thinking about a sleepy fic while I’m tired like

You and your fav just had sex and it a few hours after and you’re both laying in bed, all cleaned up, just wearing a shirt and your fav is only in new boxers. When you start to feel heat pool between your legs again but you don’t wanna wake up your fav so you think you could get away with some rubbing your legs together. But it not enough you need something more so you poke awake your fave and start to ask.

“Honey… I’m sorry but I-I um I need..”

He shushes you with a kiss and let’s hand slip between your thighs to your aching core. Easily slipping in some fingers and reaching straight to the place that hits you the most.

“A-ah!”

You instantly grabbed on to his shoulders, nails digging in as your mouth open in moans and pants.

“It’s alright baby, my girl’s still needy aren’t cha?”

You nods, not trusting your voice right now.

“Mm… I’ll take care for you don’t worry, my good girl deserves a reward after tonight.”

He takes his fingers out, dripping with your slick and shoved them into your mouth when you started to whine from the lack of touch.

“Shh… I’ll give you something better soon, just wait baby.”

He pulls down his boxer just enough so his hard cock springs out and rubs against your thighs, he grabs you and turns you around so your back is against his chest and he placed his cock right under your core.

The tip of his thick head sliding open your folds and caressing your clit with each thrusts he makes behind you.

One of his hand grabs your face to meet his for open mouth kisses and the other thumbs over your aching clits.

“Please.. I mmph- I need mor-more..”

You tried to convey while his tongue was working it’s in way into your throat.

“You need my cock that badly again? I guess I didn’t fuck you hard enough earlier huh? I’ll fix that now..”

Without warning he thrusts his whole length into your cunt.

“Aa-Ah!”

“You can take that right, baby? Your pussy stills stretched out from before anyway.”

He groaned as your walls clamped down him.

“But still so fucking tight, fuck, that’s my baby right here..”

His thumb never leaves your clit, giving it slow and torturous circle rubs, while his cock is the complete opposite.

Slamming into you again and again without a moment break.

It made your mind spin a lot. Your chest heaving and your thighs shaking from the force.

“Ah! I-Imma c-cum!”

“Do it baby, let’s cum together..”

He picks up the pace with both his thumb and his cock.

Practically forcing you to cum while his whole cock was still inside you.

His hot seed fills you up instantly. But he doesn’t pull out, just snuggled closer and places soft kisses on your shoulder.

“Since you were the one who woke me up… you wouldn’t mind if we stayed like this the whole night right? Just as payment for the fucking you know.”

[jollyhunter]

♡Dean Birthday Prompt-Game♡

Before we dive into the prompt game... Please, take a short 20 minutes break and just sit down in the backseat of Baby. Imagine, it. It's Dean's birthday and it's just you, Dean and Sam. On the road. You sleeping in the backseats, the rain's soothing pitter-patter, Dean's music playing in the background, Baby purring under your feet.

Put those headphones in, close your eyes and just... feel it. ♡

... And when Dean wakes you to sing, I want you to sing. (I'm serious)

. . .

Now that you are settled in, here's the prompt along the video:

It's just the same damn day like any other, right?

Today Dean turns 31. Finally a good reason to celebrate.

Or so you had it planned out in your head. But, of course you three just had to take up a 2 weeks hunt at the arse-end of the world. And now you're stuck on a 3-days drive back home, doomed to yet again spend this special day, like any other.

On the road. With the sky pissing down on you with no end in sight (Dean's words). Folded into the backseat between instant coffee and greasy takeaway burgers (Sam's words). Cooped up in some weird banana themed motel room with little to no privacy (...your words). Not that any of this would have bothered you any other day. But for you, today wasn't any other day. And for once - just for once - you actually hoped you'd get something... different. Something special.

It was Dean's birthday after all. And that by itself was a miracle, seeing as he'd been in Hell not too long ago.

And although he was physically back, you could sense that parts of him were still downstairs. Still trapped in a never ending nightmare you knew nothing about, because he just. won't. talk.

You just wanted to see Dean smile again. Feel his hearty laughter fill your chest like a hot cocoa that makes your heart flutter and your cheeks burn up. Watch those green pools twinkle with genuine joy as they get nudged up by that Cheshire smile.

But as of right now, things looked anything but.

Worst of all? Dean didn't even seem to mind. It's like he didn't even acknowledge the fact that he was turning a year older today.

The lights of an occasional passer-by vehicle flashes by your shut eyes and then fades back into the darkness. The interior of Baby is dimly lit and only the soft glow of the street lights from passing towns and the dashboard illumination light the silhouette of the two brothers in the front seats.

Dean's sipping lazily from his coffee mug while driving, his fingers on the steering wheel idly tapping along the beats of the song of Zep's Ramble On that's competing against the rhythmic drumming of the droplets on the roof. Meanwhile the sound of rustling newspapers comes from the passenger seat.

Sam sighs, occasionally adding to the oddly comfortable atmosphere with his pen jotting down notes and shuffling through papers.

When Dean spots a motel sign, he quickly pulls the car over and parks it right in front of the main entrance. Green eyes dart up at the rear view mirror, checking on your sleeping form in the backseat before he turns to head out, his voice a low mutter to not wake you. „I‘ll check it out.“

Minutes later, the door opens and Dean climbs back in, letting out a deep sigh before quickly shutting it closed again behind him and shaking off some of the wetness from his jacket and hair. Sam's still engrossed in his research, barely looking up when his brother starts up the car again and grunts, “The place is full.”

“Damn it.” Sam mutters, putting down the notebook he was writing in, “Not even a single other motel for miles. Guess that means we’re stuck in the car for the night.”

"All three of us? That's gonna be cramped as hell." Dean mutters in annoyance while the wheels screech in protest from being manoeuvred back to the road.

Dean briefly turns back to face you still being fast asleep in the backseat and his face instantly softens. His lips curl into a soft smile when he reaches over the bench's backrest to pat your knee, "Hey, sleepyhead, wake up. Looks like we need to huddle up for the night."

HERE'S THE IDEA: Continue the story yourself; how would you try to save Dean's birthday? How would you make the best of it? What's your theme? Mostly fluff? Spontaneous birthday-hunt? Or will you dive into the angst? Or get Sam somehow out of the car so you can get a little frisky with Dean? You get the point. Go crazy.

Reblog and add yours, or post your own and tag me! There’s no deadline for this!

The prompt is set right after the end of the video. But you may of course jump into the story wherever you want. Have fun sweethearts!

A/N: Not to sound dramatic but creating this ambience / intro sound video, or whatever I shall call it, cost me an arm and a leg. And at some point I had to sell my soul to Crowley to get it done. Additionally, I wanted fitting dividers as well so I did those too, lol I went full in for our boy's birthday. And I wanted to do something fun for everyone!

So please, consider commenting and reblogging if you liked it ♡

Dean Tags:

@aylacavebear @jc-winchester

[2018-01-20]

hiii i heard you wanted some requests 👀 and I'm super glad you're back !! I missed you a lot lot <3

My head has been so full of post-dinner date Gojo ideas. The domesticity of getting unready with him and cuddling in bed right afterward. It's just so simple but so cute. oh oh and doing nighttime skincare with him :( having him sit down and rubbing in the different creams into his skin and the way he would lead into your hands. ahhh he has me so weak (_ _)

Feel free to use any of these ideas to write or take inspo from if you want! Gojo is such a cutie :3

Anyways, have a lovely day, and remember to take care of yourself!!

pairing. gojo satoru × gn!reader

content. bunch of fluff + comfort, reader has smaller hands than gojo (in case that bothers anyone!!) & sits on his lap, sappy reader + gojo!! read slowly for maximum enjoyment <3

sticky-note. nonnie u are so goated for this idea, i think this might be my fav gojo fic so far 😭 I MISSED U MORE!! hope u have a wonderful day and thank u for sending this in 🫶

satoru thinks your hands are pretty.

they’re smaller than his—of course they are. he can’t think of a single person who has bigger hands than him. he enjoys it, though. your touch is stimulating in a way; fingertips completely gentle as you rub the latest lotion that you bought onto his face.

“can’t keep your hands off of me, huh?” he leans back and grins, but you can’t even be annoyed by his teasing. there's a shine in his eyes that you haven’t seen a very long time—and you are more than happy to see it now.

“mhm,” you hum, softly kneading his cheeks like you would with a baby. his blindfold is off and his demeanor seems so relaxed, his face basking into your soothing touch. it’s hard to hold back your own smile. “you just have that type of charming effect, y’know?”

“you’re being awfully nice today,” he remarks suspiciously, peeking an eye open to look closely at you. you pinch his cheek in return. “what’s the occasion baby?”

you roll your eyes, pulling back your hand for a moment to scoop up a bit more lotion. you swipe it lightly onto his forehead. “what? i can’t give you attention? can’t i spoil my boyfriend for once?”

the tips of his ears redden at your words, making you giggle at the rare but pleasant sight. “....i mean, you can, but—”

“shh,” you shush him. he closes his mouth instantly. “no more talking! this is the most important part because i have to smooth out all the wrinkles in your forehead.”

he lets out a big gasp, being playfully offended—narrowing his eyes with an indignant look. the smile you didn't even know you were sporting grows wider at how cute he is. you wouldn't say it that out loud though, of course.

it is so beautifully quiet and peaceful. you can’t think of the last time you spent time with satoru like this: seated on the living room floor of his apartment as you slap your whole skincare routine onto his face. his back is against the couch with his legs sprawled out, but not too sprawled out so you are more than comfortable on his lap. it’s nighttime so the curtains are draped over the window, but you love the warm, dim lighting of his living room. gojo satoru is gorgeous, but is especially pretty in this lighting; with his head comfortably tilted back and eyes closed, but not forcefully or harshly shut as if he’s in pain.

for the longest time, you've been used to seeing satoru in pain. not in a physical way—but in an emotional and mental way that tugs at your heart strings just seeing him in that state. you know the burden that comes with being the strongest: there will always be a significant power divide between you and the people you love, which will never not be difficult for the other party to ignore. it also doesn’t help that he is so happy-go-lucky all the time, despite the jujutsu sorcerer duties that keeps piling rocks onto his shoulders.

but now in this moment, he is all yours. he isn’t the strongest, nor is he Gojo Satoru. he is just yours—just the lover boy who melts into your open arms whenever given the chance. just a boy who had to give up being a boy so he could be a man for others to look up to him. just someone you would want to depend on you, the same way you lovingly depend on him.

“i love you,” you suddenly whisper, in the midst of just simply applying lotion onto his skin. your slow, comforting movements make him want to fall asleep, but your words make him wide awake.

“out of the blue?” his head shoots up, eyes wide and visible despite being behind his messy bangs. he sits up and stares at you, the same glimmer back in his eyes. “i mean, i’m not complaining—”

you interrupt with a huff, “i say it everyday, jerk.” you place your hands on his chest to wipe away any of the lotion moisture left on your palms. he doesn’t bat a single eye. “what do you mean ‘out of the blue’?”

“i know, but...”

your jaw drops a bit. you actually cannot believe your eyes as satoru tilts his head a bit to the side, shyly averting his eyes as you see a tint of scarlet on his cheeks. “it just feels so intimate right now, so...”

good lord. you want to baby him so bad. you want to shrink him and keep him in your pocket and always protect him wherever you go.

“you’re too cute for my well-being,” you breathe, going back on your earlier words. “you know i always mean it when i say i love you, ‘toru.”

“stop,” he whines. he raises an arm to cover his face, eyes still unable to look at yours. “don’t compliment me. i don’t think i’ll be able to handle it right now.”

you can’t help but laugh, squeaking in surprise when satoru pokes at your sides with a little pout. you want to tease him, you think. you might as well with a smile permanently on your face now.

these are the type of moments you crave: moments when satoru tears down his walls and lets himself act like he’s a little boy all over again in front of you. it’s not like he necessarily had walls up with you in the first place, but being a jujutsu sorcerer has always meant protecting and guarding yourself at all times no matter the cost.

but now, you have him. and he has you in his arms, the one that sneak around your waist and warmly wrap around you to keep you close to his chest. it's cuddly but protective, both of your laughs drowning out any other background sounds.

and you are more than willing to protect him yourself.

[hotchfiles]

NOVEMBER 2ND, 1965 ー AARON HOTCHNER IS BORN.

I love you for all that you are, for all that you aren't and for all that you've brought me. Thanks for being the best fictional love of my life. (〝⌒∇⌒〝)

[fbfh]

Imagine topping Leo in a chair?

LITERALLY love you for this. riding Leo in a chair is in like your top 5 favorite ways to ride Leo. your faces are so close together and he can feel every intimate rockwing bouncing squeeze of your tight juicy little hole gripping his throbbing cock like a vise. his eyes are so wide and his grip on your soft hips is nearly enough to leave pretty little fingertip bruises polkadotting your thighs (which he's obsessed with) and your hips (which he's also obsessed with) and your ass (are you sensing a pattern here????) and god everything you do drives him crazy but CHRIST the way you hold his face so sweetly in your pretty hands, so innocent and tender while simultaneously milking his cock for all he's got. and he'll give it to you. Leo will let you ride him in that chair that he can't look at after that without going half mast. he'll let you ride him until he's shooting blanks, until both of your cum drips on the floor, mixing in messy creamy beautiful puddles. Leo will throw his head back in pleasure, panting, chest heaving and giving you the best view of his perfect neck that's just begging to be covered in hickeys and bites. Leo will let you ride him in a chair until he passes out. can't walk. pounding down gatorade and liquid iv to try and rehydrate. and he'll thank you for it.

[xxlady-lunaxx]

ik i was gonna write the shinazugawa’s realizing the other actually cares but. what about their first meeting after their mother dies?

by now, both of them are demon slayers. sanemi’s a hashira, his mood a constant low. he gets a mission of sorts, just to save a bunch of mizunotos who’ve gotten themselves in trouble with a lowermoon. he arrives and, per usual, tracks down the demon immediately. it’s a relatively weak one, being lower four, and he’s quick to kill it. he does a surveillance around the place, checking to make sure there aren’t any other demons before beginning to make his leave. the kakushi would be dealing with the injured and the dead.

as he starts to make his way out, ending up having to cut through a group of younger slayers, his gaze catches onto a familiar face. most of the mizunotos are cowering, a bit afraid of him, but his attention is on a boy in the back who hasn’t yet noticed his presence. genya.

almost like the name had been spoken, genya’s head lifts. sanemi freezes, his mind short circuiting before he can formulate the thought that he should leave. but it’s too late by the time he’s registered his own panic because genya has recognized him, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly agape. noticing the silent interaction, some of the other slayers look from genya to sanemi in confusion. one of them, who was in the process of handing genya a roll of bandages, pauses and glances at sanemi.

“do you know him?” he asks. it’s his question that brings them both from their stupor.

genya’s mid-nod before sanemi interjects, his voice harsh and loud, cutting straight through the white-noise bustling around them. he’s overdone it with his volume, but he doesn’t care, even as eyes begin to watch.

“i don’t. i’d mistaken him for someone else, i don’t know him,” he says firmly. it’s a bit too forced to seem true, but nobody pushes it.

except genya, who flinches at his words, looking like a wounded puppy. he pushes through the group of slayers as sanemi hurries to leave. he’s too slow, unable to catch up with sanemi’s suddenly quick pace. but he makes do with his voice, shouting, “aniki, wait-!”

without thinking, sanemi snaps back, “you’re not my brother! i don’t fucking know you!”

though he doesn’t turn around, he can tell genya’s stopped chasing after him. there’s a sort of quiet around them, although it’s not truly silent. as if every sound was dimmed. sanemi doesn’t know why he said that. but he’s already gone by the time his own words catch up to him. he hadn’t meant them. yes, he refused to let genya talk to him, even now, but… that? he hadn’t meant it.

before he knew it, he was back at home. despite having just returned from a mission, he’s quick to get to the training room, grabbing what he needs and starting without warming up. he’s angry at himself, it seems. for running away like a coward. but also, genya had been in uniform. the demon slayer uniform, to be exact. this isn’t how it was supposed to go. it infuriates him that he let it happen. that he didn’t find out until now, didn’t find out until genya had already passed final selection and gone and gotten his own katana and uniform. and then—even once he’d found own, he’d done absolutely nothing. what the fuck.

[pipppinn]

tag: 18+, sub!sae x dom!reader.

It was adorable.

The way Sae laid down under you, his fingers clenching around the pillowcase with tears welling up in his eyes. It was really cute to see the Sae who usually bit into your shoulder so roughly being reduced into a breathy mess just by two fingers inside him. Red and pretty contrasting how the back of his hand whitened while his toes curled into the mattress.

“Oh, Sae,” you felt your smile growing, feeling his inside tightening around you the moment you uttered his name lovingly, “I love you.”

Sae opened his mouth slightly, trying to reply to your words. But, upon seeing his heaving chest exposed, you couldn't hold yourself to press a kiss into his reddened nipples.

Your name was choked out of Sae’s throat, “—wait, you—ngh!”

As your teeth teased his skin even more, you smiled sweetly towards your beloved. You lift your hand to his dick as you let a hand lift your skirt up. Without leaving his eyes, you finally pressed your rear down to his, “It’s okay. I will spoil you this time, Sae.”

could be read as an accompaniment to this.