#★ ; birthdays

[strnilolover]

✰ matt just loves to take care of you, even if it’s little things

your body curled into the corner of the couch, legs pulled up to your chest as your eyes stayed glued to the show you were watching. you were paying attention too well—your mind drifting to how you were starting to get hungry.

your head turns away from the tv, gaze landing on matt who’s on the other end of the couch, phone in one hand while the other fiddled with the end of his shirt. you smiled.

“matt baby?” you said quietly, hoping to catch his attention. his head turned up from his phone, a smile spreading across his face as he met your gaze.

“yeah sweetheart?”

“I’m kind of craving fruit,” you mused, setting your phone down and stretching your arms above your head. “Think you could grab me some? please.” you ask, dragging out the e.

matt smirked, already moving his body to stand from his sitting position. “anything for you, my love.”

you watched as he disappeared into the kitchen, the sound of the fridge opening and the slight clatter of a bowl against the counter making you smile. he always did things like this—taking care of you in ways both big and small, never needing a reason other than the fact that he loved you.

a few minutes later, he returned with a bowl of perfectly sliced strawberries, blueberries, and grapes. but instead of handing it to you, he plopped down beside you.

“what?” You raised a brow as he plucked a strawberry from the bowl and held it up. “open,” he instructed, his voice soft.

you let out a small laugh, leaning forward to take the strawberry from his fingers. he watched you chew with a satisfied expression before grabbing a grape next.

“matt,” you mumbled between bites, trying (and failing) to fight back a grin. “I can feed myself, you know.”

he shrugged, popping a blueberry into your mouth before you could protest. “yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

you rolled your eyes, but your heart melted at the way he looked at you—like there was nowhere else he’d rather be, nothing else he’d rather be doing than taking care of you in the simplest, sweetest ways.

“you’re ridiculous,” you muttered, but you still let him continue. he leaned forward, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face before holding up another bite. “yeah,” he said.

“but you love it. and i love taking care of you, now shush and eat baby.”

a/n : it’s my birthday! this is just a little blurb for now, i’m hoping to put something out later but i just needed a sweet little thing rn

[freshl6ve]

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒.𝐒 | 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑

⭑.ᐟ : 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬’ 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧, and he finds himself tangled in the sheets next to me. The early morning sunlight streams through the curtains, casting a warm glow on my peaceful face. He glances at his phone on the nightstand, checking the time before turning back to me, his lips drawn to the soft curve of my neck.

“Wake up, baby,” he murmurs, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. “Happy birthday.”

I murmured sleepy sounds of protest as Chris starts peppering kisses on my neck, his warm lips trailing along my sensitive skin. I stir awake slightly, “Mmm” and “Hmmm” of pleasure escaping my lips. He smiles against my skin, enjoying the effect he's having on me.

Finally, his kisses find their way to my lips, capturing them in a slow, lazy kiss. “Morning,” he whispers between kisses.

I return the kiss, my lips still sleep-soft against his. “Mmm, good morning,” I mumble, my voice still heavy with sleep. His hands start to wander, drawing lazy patterns on my bare skin, and I can feel the heat building as his touch ignites a familiar need within me.

As our kiss breaks, Chris pulls back slightly, his gaze fixed on me with a tenderness that sends a shiver down my spine. “Did you sleep well, birthday girl?” he whispers against my lips, his voice low and hoarse with desire. His thumb brushes away a strand of hair from my face, caressing my cheek with a gentle touch as he waits for my response.

I smile, feeling a warm flutter in my chest at the nickname. “I slept well,” I reply, my voice still husky with sleep. “But it’s even better now that I’m awake with you.” My hands slide up his bare chest, feeling his warm skin under my fingertips. I press a soft kiss to his chin, my eyes meeting his with a playful glimmer.

Chris grins, his eyes darkening with desire at the feel of my hands on his chest. “You know, I’ve been thinking about your birthday all week,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “And I have something special planned for you.”

My heart quickens at his words, and I let out a soft laugh. “Oh yeah?” I ask, my fingers tracing the muscles of his back. “Care to give me a hint?”

Chris smirks, his lips lingering near my ear as he whispers, “Well, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it?” His breath is warm against my skin, sending tiny shivers down my spine. His hand glides down my side, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” he teases, his fingers tracing along the edge of my sleep shorts.

I let out a soft moan as his fingers tease at the edge of my shorts, my body responding to his touch. “Come on,” I grumble, my voice still raspy with sleep. “Just give me a tiny hint.”

Chris laughs, his hand stilling on my hip. “You’re not going to get me to crack that easily, birthday girl,” he says, his eyes glinting with amusement. He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. “Patience, baby. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Chris lets out a reluctant sigh, his hands pausing in their exploration of my skin. “The dressers will be here soon, though,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with disappointment at the interruption. “We should get up.”

I pout slightly, not quite ready to leave the comfort of his arms. I press my face into his chest, whining softly. “Can’t we just stay in bed a bit longer?”

I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He responds by leaning down, his lips capturing mine in a deep, gentle kiss. My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him in closer as I let myself melt into the kiss. For a few moments, everything else fades away, and it's just the two of us, lost in each other.

Chris breaks the kiss, his lips moving slowly down to my neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin. I tilt my head back, my breath coming in quick gasps as he finds the spot just below my ear that drives me wild. His hands roam over my body, caressing my curves with a possessive touch that makes my head spin.

Chris murmurs against my neck, his breath tickling my skin as he speaks. “It’s so hard to decide if I should give you your surprise now,” he whispers, his hands still roaming over my body, tracing the lines of my curves. “Or later.” He pulls back slightly, his gaze locking with mine, his eyes darkened with desire. “What do you think?”

I try to focus, my mind slightly hazy as his touch sends sparks of pleasure fluttering through me. “I thought you said the dressers were coming,” I manage to choke out, my breath catching in my throat.

Chris laughs softly, his expression filled with a mix of desire and amusement. “They can wait,” he replies, his fingers slowly tracing patterns on my bare skin. “We have time.”

Without warning, he crashes his lips onto mine again, the kiss hard and insistent, full of need and desire. My heart races as I cling to him, my hands tangling in his hair as I kiss him back, desperate for more. His tongue teases at the seam of my lips, seeking entrance, and I moan softly against his mouth as I surrender to him completely.

The kiss deepens, growing more intense as his hands roam over my body, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touch. I arch into him, my body pressing against his as the need for more, for closer, washes over me. As the kiss threatens to consume me, he pulls back, breaking it with a gasp. “God, you drive me crazy,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with desire.

Chris grips my waist, lifting me easily onto his lap, positioning me so I’m straddling him, my knees bracketing his hips. He leans back against the headboard, pulling me closer, his hands resting on the curves of my hips. I can feel the heat of his skin against me through the thin fabric of my shorts, my bare skin pressed against his bare chest. He pulls me closer, his hands sliding up my back as his lips find mine again in a fierce kiss.

The kiss is frenzied, desperate, as if he can't get enough. His tongue dances with mine, his hands pulling my hips down, pressing me against him in a way that makes my mind go blank. I can feel the heat and hardness of him through the thin barrier of our clothes, and my body responds with a need that borders on desperation.

I slowly raise my hands up his chest, feeling the hard muscles and the quickened beat of his heart under my fingertips. They come to rest on either side of his neck, holding him close as I lean down to deepen the kiss. My body molds against his as I slant my lips over his, my tongue delving into his mouth, matching the fierce tenderness of his touch.

Our noses touch as our mouths slant over each other, our kisses growing hungrier with each passing moment. We break apart briefly, our breath mingling, before coming together again, this time peppering soft, gentle kisses on each other's lips. He lets out a low moan, the sound sending a shiver down my spine as his hands tighten on my hips, pulling me closer.

Chris breaks the kiss, his lips moving to my jaw as he slowly trails down my neck, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses in their wake. I arch my neck, giving him better access, a soft moan escaping my lips. His hands glide over my bare skin, igniting little sparks of pleasure wherever he touches.

My hands find their way to his hair, my fingers tangling in the soft, dark strands as I draw him closer, wanting more of his kisses, more of his touch. My heart races, and I shiver as his lips find a particularly sensitive spot just below my ear. I tug at his hair, pulling his head back slightly, desperate for another deep, frantic kiss.

Chris looks up at me, his gaze filled with yearning and hunger. His lips are pink and swollen from our aggressive kisses, and his expression is almost feral, like a man possessed. I meet his gaze, my own eyes dark with desire, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. I feel overwhelmed, yet at the same time, completely consumed by need for him.

I trace my thumb over his lips, and he lets out a small, shuddering breath as he looks at me. His gaze locks onto mine, his eyes a deep, dark blue, filled with a mixture of yearning and desire. “Let me worship you, baby,” he whispers, his voice husky and rough. “It’s your day.”

His hands slide under the hem of my tank top, pushing it up, exposing my stomach to the cool air. He mouths kisses along my neck, his lips moving lower, his touch almost reverent. He slowly rises the fabric higher, his hands guiding it over my head, casting it aside, leaving me in only my shorts.

His lips trail down to my shoulders, gently kissing and biting the sensitive skin there. My head tilts to the side, my eyes closing as I revel in the feel of his touch. He moves on to my collarbone, his tongue tracing the curve before he sucks lightly on the skin, leaving behind a small mark.

A soft moan escapes my lips, his name slipping from my mouth like a whisper. “Chris...” I breathe out, my body arching against his. My hands tangle in his hair, holding him close, desperate for more of his touch.

The friction between us, our bodies separated by only the thin fabric of our lower clothes, sends a wave of heat through me. I shift slightly, adjusting my position on his lap, and a low moan escapes his lips as I press against him, feeling his reaction to me.

Chris's lips trail lower, leaving a scorching path from my collarbone down to the swell of my breasts. He pauses briefly, his breath hot against my sensitive skin, before capturing one of my nipples into his mouth.

He sucks gently at first, his tongue swirling around the hard peak, making me arch my back and let out a soft whimper. As he nurses from my breast, his other hand reaches up to play with the other one, rolling and pinching the sensitive bud.

A breathy moan escapes my lips as Chris’s talented mouth and hands work in tandem to drive me wild with desire. I bury my fingers in his hair, holding him close to my chest as I grind my hips against his, seeking more friction.

Chris looks up at me with heavy-lidded eyes, his pupils dilated with arousal. As he continues to suck and tease my breasts, his free hand slowly slides down my body, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my shorts and slipping beneath the fabric.

He finds my slick heat and groans in approval, his fingers diving right in without hesitation. I gasp as he starts to rub my clit with his thumb, the other fingers curling inside me, stretching and preparing me for what's to come.

Lost in the haze of pleasure, I rock my hips against his hand, chasing the building tension. Chris’s mouth leaves my breast, and he looks up at me with a hungry gaze, his lips shiny with saliva. “Fuck, you’re so wet,”

He growls possessively, his fingers pumping faster inside me. He curls his fingers upwards, hitting that spot that makes my vision blur. “Chris,” I whimper, my nails digging into his scalp.

Chris kisses and nuzzles the sensitive skin under my chin, his lips trailing up to my neck as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of me. “You like that, don’t you, baby?” he murmurs against my skin, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine.

His fingers increase its speed and depth, hitting that magical spot inside me with every thrust. “God, yes,” I moan softly, throwing my head back to give him better access to my neck. His lips find that spot where my neck meets my shoulder, sucking gently.

He sucks and nibbles at my neck, marking me as his own as his fingers work their magic inside me. “Chris, please,” I beg, my body tensing as I get closer to the edge. He can feel it, his fingers curling even more, hitting that spot perfectly.

His fingers go even deeper, hitting that spot that makes my legs shake. I try to grab his wrist, to make him stop the overstimulation. “Shit, Chris,” I curse, trying to buck away from his fingers. But he's having none of that.

My body convulses as I reach my climax, a loud scream escaping my lips. Stars burst behind my eyes, and my inner walls clench tightly around Chris's fingers. He quickly removes his hand, bringing it up to his mouth and licking my juices off his fingers.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers against my lips before claiming my mouth in a passionate kiss. I can taste myself on his tongue, which only serves to turn me on even more. His free hand tangles in my hair, angling my head for a deeper kiss as he continues to praise me.

Chris slowly slides down the headboard until he’s lying completely flat on the bed, with me still straddling him. His hands reach for the waistband of my shorts, tugging gently. “Lift up, baby,” he murmurs, helping me slip them off and tossing them aside.

I reach down and grab the waistband of Chris's sweats, pulling them down his legs and off his feet. He kicks them aside, leaving him completely naked beneath me. I settle my weight back down on him, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine.

Chris sucks in a sharp breath as he feels my slick heat grinding against his now fully erect cock. His hands grab my hips, guiding my movements as I rub myself along his length. “Fuck, that feels incredible,” he groans, tilting his head back against the pillow.

His stomach clench beneath my fingers as I run them down his body, feeling every ridge and muscle. His hips buck up to meet my downward grinding, his length sliding between my slick folds but not quite entering me yet.

I lift myself up slightly, wrapping my hand around his thick length and positioning him at my entrance. I rub the head against my wet folds, making him hiss. “Fuck,” he mutters, watching my body through half-lidded eyes.

“Take me,” he rasps, his voice lower than usual. “I’m your surprise gift.” His body relaxes beneath me, giving himself over completely. He looks almost innocent like this, vulnerable. I love seeing this side of him. I line him up again, slowly lowering myself down.

“It’s all yours,” Chris breathes out, his hands gripping my hips tighter. I smirk at his words, lowering myself even deeper. “Oh yeah?” I teased. Chris lets out a strangled whimper, his head pressing back into the pillow.

“Use me baby,” Chris murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. His body trembles beneath mine as I move my hands up his chiseled chest, up to his neck. He tilts his chin up, his lips parting as I lean down closer, hovering just above his mouth.

I tease him for a moment longer, kissing his lips softly before moving to his jaw and then his neck, sucking on his pulse point. “Please, baby,” Chris begs, his voice desperate. “I can’t take it anymore. Move, please.” I chuckle against his skin, continuing to torment him.

Chris whimpers as I continue teasing him, my lips and tongue tracing patterns on his neck while I refuse to move. “Fuck, you’re killing me,” he groans, his hips twitching beneath me, desperately seeking friction.

I ignore his pleas, kissing and leaving marks on his collarbone instead. “Baby, please,” he begs, his voice cracking. I whisper in his ear, “Make me.” Chris’s patience snaps, and he grabs my hips with a desperate strength, forcefully grinding my hips down onto his.

“Mhmm~” I moan, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Like that?” Chris growls, his fingers tightening possessively on my hips. He knows exactly what he’s doing, hitting that perfect spot inside me. “Yes,” I hiss out, tossing my hair back.

I lift my body up, then drop myself back down on his length. “Holy shit,” Chris hisses, watching my body move. I do it again, bouncing harder this time, taking him deep. His hands fly to my thighs, spreading them wider. “Goddamn, baby,”

I bounce up and down on him harder, my hair flying around my face. Chris’s hands grip my thighs, his fingers digging in as he tries to control my movements. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” he chants, his eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

I reach for his hand, bringing it to my breast. “Fuck, touch me Chris. I need your hands on me,” I whimper, my pace never faltering. Chris eagerly obliges, squeezing and kneading my breast, his thumb flicking over my hardening nipple.

“Your pussy is fucking perfect,” he groans deeply, his other hand sliding between our bodies to find my clit. I cry out as he works me in tandem—thrusting up to meet my movements while rubbing tight circles. “Ride me deeper baby. Harder,”

I arch my back, throwing my head back in ecstasy as I continue to ride him hard. I bring my hands back to his thighs, gripping them tightly as I bounce up and down on his cock. The bed creaks and groans beneath us, the sound mingling with our panting and moans.

“Mhmmm~” I moan loudly, taking him deep. “Fuck yes,” Chris growls. “You take my dick so good baby.” “Mmm~” I arch my back again, bouncing faster. “Right there,”

I lean forward, hands pressing against his chest. Chris’s eyes darken at the sight of me completely taking him. “Look at you,” he grits out, “Taking that cock so fucking perfectly.” Chris hisses, his hands flying to my waist. “Fuck, just like that baby.” He asks, thrusting upward slightly. His voice drops to a sexier tone, “You’re stretched so tight around my cock...”

I start riding him faster, my hips slamming down onto his with each thrust. Chris meets me halfway, lifting his hips off the bed to bury himself deeper inside me. Our skin slaps together loudly, mixing with our ragged breaths and moans. “Oh fuck, Chris! Yes, yes, YES!”

I arch my back sharply, gripping Chris’s chest as I ride him relentlessly. The cool Italian breeze wafts in from the open window beside us, fluttering the sheer white curtains and dancing across our fevered skin. It’s a stark contrast to the intense heat building between our bodies with each thrust.

“You feel so good wrapped around me,” Chris growls, his fingers digging into my waist possessively. He lifts his hips higher to meet mine, filling me to the brim with each thrust. The headboard starts to bang against the wall rhythmically as we lose ourselves in passion.

I turn around abruptly, facing away from Chris and impaling myself back onto him. He wraps his strong arms around my waist, pulling me down onto him harder and faster. The bed creaks and groans beneath us, the headboard slamming into the wall with each thrust.

My ass slapped against his thighs loudly as I bounce up and down on his length. He spreads my cheeks apart slightly, getting an unobstructed view of himself disappearing inside me. His fingers tighten possessively on my hips, guiding my movements.

Chris slaps my ass decisively, the sharp sound ringing out alongside our moans. “Fuck, love the way this ass bounces,” he grunts, delivering another stinging slap. The sting mingles pleasurably with the intense sensations already flooding my body.

Chris palms my ass roughly, kneading them as he pulls me back harder onto his cock. The new angle has him hitting impossibly deep spots inside me, and I cry out sharply. “Oh god Chris, right there!” He obliges, thrusting up powerfully to grind against that perfect spot.

Without warning, my inner muscles clamp down tightly around Chris’s length. He must feel it because he mutters, “Shit,” just as I throw my head back and scream. My orgasm rips through me unexpectedly, my body convulsing and gushing all over his length and the bedsheets beneath us.

Chris quickly pulls out and lifts me up effortlessly. He places me gently on the edge of the bed, spreading my thighs wide apart. He lines up and enters me in one swift thrust, making me yelp. He grabs my legs and throws them over his shoulders, going deeper.

He starts to pound into me mercilessly, the new position allowing him to go even deeper. The head of his cock keeps hitting my cervix, sending delicious shivers down my spine. He leans down to capture my mouth in a searing kiss, our tongues dancing and twirling together.

I moan deeply into Chris's mouth as he kisses me fervently, each thrust pushing the air from my lungs. Our tongues slide together sensually, the kiss turning sloppy and desperate. Wet sounds fill the air—the lewd slipping of skin on skin and our muffled moans melding into one.

Chris breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against mine. Our noses brush, our hot breaths mingling between our slightly parted lips. He gazes into my eyes intensely as he continues to move inside me, the slow burn of pleasure building once more.

For a moment, we both freeze. Chris's eyes widen with a mix of amusement and annoyance. “Fuck,” he breathes out, not stopping his steady pace inside me. The knocking persists, Matt's voice calling out again. “Chris? Dude, you there?”

Chris calls out, “Yeah, Matt! One sec!” He increases his pace slightly, hitting that delicious spot deep inside me. He covers my mouth with one hand to muffle my moans. Matt continues talking outside. “You decent?”

Chris panics, looking down at me urgently. “Shh, baby, stay silent for me, okay?” He whispers quickly, his eyes wide with worry. He removes his hand from my mouth just long enough to call out, “No, um, just got out of the shower.”

“Okay, thanks Matt,” Chris responds, picking up his pace again. He knows his best friend is just outside the door, oblivious to the fact that he's balls deep inside me. Matt continues, “Alright man, see you later. They'll be there soon.”

Chris calls out to Matt through clenched teeth, trying hard to maintain his composure, “Yeah, got it. Thanks, man.” Then he whispers down to me, “Fuck, baby, you're doing so good keeping quiet...” He increases his pace slightly, hitting that sensitive spot inside me.

Chris leans down and kisses me deeply, his lips moving urgently against mine. He tries to distract me from the conversation outside and the impending arrival of the dressers. His tongue sweeps inside my mouth, tasting me greedily.

I reach up and grab onto Chris's biceps tightly, my nails digging into his skin. I pull away from the kiss, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. “I can’t take it anymore,” I whimper softly, my eyes pleading with him for release.

“You can take it,” Chris growls softly, his hips snapping forward. He grips my thighs tightly, pulling me down onto his length harder and faster. He swallows my soft moans with his mouth, kissing me hungrily.

I throw my head back, moaning loudly as Chris slams into me. I can feel the pleasure building inside me, my body tensing up. Chris whispers against my lips, “Atta girl, take it like the good girl you are.” His words send me over the edge.

I tangled my fingers into Chris's messy hair, pulling him down for a sloppy, messy kiss. Our bodies are pressed tightly together, his chest against my heaving breasts. Chris grips the sheets tightly, his arms shaking with the effort of holding back his own release as I come undone beneath him.

“Fuck, Chris,” I whimper against his lips, my voice trembling with need. I can feel another climax building fast, my inner walls clenching around him tightly. Chris groans into the kiss, his hips stuttering as he feels my body tensing up again.

Chris pounds into me relentlessly, his cock hammering against that sweet spot deep inside. He presses firmly on my stomach, angling his hips to hit just the right angle with every powerful thrust. “Shit, I can feel myself in you,” he grunts, his voice husky with lust.

Chris's lips find their way to my neck again, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin. I wrap my arms tightly around his back, holding on for dear life as he fucks me brutally. My moans become louder, more urgent, “Chris... oh god, Chris!”

“Cum for me, baby...” Chris moans against my neck, his hips moving at a punishing pace. Every thrust press my body deeper into the sheets, causing friction against my sensitive clit. My fingernails dig into his back as he hits the perfect spot inside me, making me see stars.

“FUCK” I moan loudly, throwing my head back. He takes advantage of my exposed neck, sucking hard on the pulse point. He knows it drives me crazy. His hips snap forward harder, deeper. He hits my womb, sending waves of pleasure mixed with slight pain. “God... your big...” I moan softly, my legs wrapping tightly around his waist. He growls, “Too deep?”

“God no,” I gasp out, “Feels... so good... So deep... Like you're touching my womb.” Chris swallows hard, his hips moving like a jackhammer.

“You like this?” Chris growls, his hands sliding under my back to lift my hips higher, allowing him to slam into me even deeper. “You like being filled up like this?” He asks through gritted teeth, his hips stuttering as he feels my inner walls convulse around him.

“Yes! fuck yes!” I scream out, my back arching off the bed. Chris groans deep in his throat, “You're such a fucking dream. Taking my cock so well...” He grips my hips harder, “Cum with me baby... fuck!”

Chris thrusts deep and hits my cervix, making me scream loudly. “CHRIS!” My inner walls spasm around him tightly, milking his length. He swells inside me, his body stiffening. He lets out a deep growl, “Shit baby...” he throws his head back, his mouth wide open as he finally releases inside of me. My inner walls milk him for every last drop, my body convulsing uncontrollably.

As we come down from our high, I can feel the liquid pouring out of me, soaking the bedsheets beneath us. Chris tries to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he looks down at me, his body still hovering above mine, his arms shaking slightly. “Damn...”

Our bodies are slick with sweat, both of us breathing heavily. The cool breeze from the open window does little to relieve the heat between us—instead, it just creates goosebumps on our exposed skin. Chris stays positioned between my legs, not wanting to pull out just yet.

Chris looks down at me, his blue eyes hazy with post-orgasmic bliss. His messy hair sticks to his forehead, a few strands falling into his eyes. He licks his swollen lips, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he tries to catch his breath.

“Fuck, you look so good,” I whisper, my gaze drinking in the sight of him. I reach up to tangle my fingers in his messy hair. My other hand slowly running down his arm, feeling the bracelet he would always wear. God that bracelet. I always felt a certain way when I saw it. It makes me go feral every time he would wear it. I came to realize that I’m so horny for him that even what he wears makes me go crazy.

Chris chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leans closer, “How about a round four?” He murmurs teasingly. I let out an incredulous laugh, pushing weakly at his chest.

“Boy bye, you’re crazy,” I reply with a breathless giggle, my body still trembling slightly from our intense lovemaking session. “I can barely move, let alone go another round.” Despite my words, I can't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the thought.

Chris chuckles softly, his warm breath fanning over my face before he leans down to press a soft and passionate kiss to my lips. The kiss is slow and gentle, a stark contrast to the rough and intense way he just fucked me. His tongue slowly slides against mine, tasting me deeply.

“Mmm...” he breaks the kiss slowly, whispering against my lips in that irresistible southern drawl of his, “Happy birthday, baby...” he ran his fingers through my hair. “Even though I just fucked you senseless, wanted to make sure I said it once more.” his lips placing soft kisses along my jawline.

He continues to pepper kisses along my jawline, his warm breath tickling my ear as he whispers, “Hope you love your surprise...don’t worry this isn’t all you’re getting.” His voice is low and conspiratorial, making me curious about what else he has planned for my birthday besides the intense physical activity we just engaged in.

A/N: BIRTHDAY POST!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME 🥳

TAGS: @st6rify ✮⋆˙ @jetaimevous ✮⋆˙ @certifiedstarrr ✮⋆˙ @slvtf0rchr1s ✮⋆˙ @l3sbiancvnt ✮⋆˙ @wh0remikasas ✮⋆˙ @r0s3luvr ✮⋆˙ @emely9274 ✮⋆˙ @mimiluvzpicklez ✮⋆˙ @courta13

── .✦ MASTER—LIST ⭑𓂃

[zu-is-here]

☀︎ + ☾ Happy birthday, @sacchar1111ne <3

Dream & Nightmare by jokublog

[daylighted]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤBETTER BIRTHDAYS — vampire!dean

slowly, dean is learning to love his birthdays again, after going for decades without letting himself.

not what i intended to write, and not as good as i wish it was, but to be fair to myself i have sickness. and i'm NOT missing out on my beloved baby's birthday! if logistics don't make sense, i don't care. that's fiction baby! vampire!dean is just rent free so it was inevitable.

it wasn’t supposed to be possible.

it was one of those things that dean came to terms with when he’d been turned so long ago — a family? was not something that was personally in dean’s cards. he’d have an infinite life, yes, but any family he wanted would have to be made or created, and not in the way that he’d ever get a chance to hold something so small that was part him.

dean forgot often that the impossible seemed to happen a lot around him.

there was a moment when he thought that being with you was a fate destined for doom. but every step of the way, you’d helped convince him that decades of isolation did not equate to deserving said isolation, and slowly, he’d let you make a home in his heart.

you accepted him for what he was. you trusted him with all you had; let him into your heart, your house, and every room that was deigned yours. no secrets, you’d promised.

it was a promise you held true to, because on a day he’d always remember, june 27th, you’d sat him down and told him that you were pregnant. and, on top of that initial shock, you were three months along.

he’d used the word impossible over and over throughout your pregnancy. this was not something for dean to pour his hope into and get attached to. it had to be a mistake; it had to be a misunderstanding — something.

but on dean’s birthday, a day he refused to celebrate anymore because of how many he’d had, a day that you took into your own hands and made him celebrate anyway—

a little boy was born.

a son with his hair, his face, and your eyes. so human and so real that it stole his breath away, unable to breathe at all even if he wanted to try again.

and it only got more chaotic from there. the little boy was an absolute devil; just as dean had been before sam was born, and before his father sank into a depression that drowned both of them. cassius winchester was a little force with sharp teeth and an affinity for crawling after him everywhere that dean went.

everything about cassius was impossible. that was why he’d been given the name, after all; helmeted warrior, it meant, so nothing could take him, so nothing would try to. now that dean had him, it was not going to be so easy to pry him away.

it was cassius’s third birthday, which meant it was dean’s… he’d lost count, really. either way, it was an incredibly special day for you. your two boys, one grown and one anew, and while you didn’t fit the mold when it came to the family dynamic that your boys painted, you certainly made up for it with your enthusiasm.

“blood in the icing?” you’d asked dean the moment he stepped downstairs, cassius balanced on his hip. “would that make it any more edible for you? for cassy?”

dean, taken aback for a moment, raises his eyebrows. “what would you eat, then?”

“i’m sure a little iron in my diet won’t hurt me.”

his scoff is an amused one, his eyebrows furrowing when he feels a sharp nip on his fingertip. in cassius’s mouth is dean’s finger, gnawing on it like it were nothing more than a teething toy.

his lips quirk up. he hasn’t genuinely grinned in so long that it feels almost foreign all of the time to do it now, since he met you, and even more since cassius. “on second thought, it might not be a bad idea.”

you stop the stand mixer to glance up at them, your eyes glimmering with that look that dean always refused to address. so much love for one person always made him feel on edge, like one day it would all fall away, like everyone else he’d loved prior. his fears had never once deterred you. perhaps it was why he, too, loved you so fiercely.

“he finally learned how to use those little teeth?” you ask, circling around the kitchen island to stand in front of dean and cassius, your expression alight. “what a milestone, my love. and on your third ever birthday.”

it certainly was a milestone. cassius had not let up his biting, little pinches that were certainly going to leave his finger raw for a few hours while it tried to heal. already, dean was planning on tossing all of the teething toys in the house away; he did not care for them like he cared for dean’s pointer finger.

you press a kiss to dean’s cheek, cassius’s forehead, before turning back to the slightly/less-dusty kitchen again. it’d been practically gray before you, but you had to eat, didn’t you? the scattered leftovers of human and forest creature in the boxed refrigerator did nothing for you. but you stop quickly, your eyes widened when you spin back around.

“wait!” you say on a gasp, grabbing something from underneath the countertop. two somethings. very shiny somethings. you jog back up to dean, looping the string of one underneath his chin and planting the birthday hat securely on his head, and doing the same for cassius, albeit with a smaller one. “happy birthday, my boys.”

dean tries to not let it affect him so deeply. how long had it been since his birthday felt like something to be celebrated and not a burden? there were so many years of those feelings that he did not understand yet how to react in instances like this, in the sheer warmth that you and cassius’s joy brought to him.

you were well aware of dean’s affinity for privacy. he was reserved, had made a home in the reservation, and would not leave it, not when he was so comfortable. so you did not call upon his sired to come celebrate — especially not them, when he was only beginning to heal the self-deprecation that came from their being there.

you did, though, dust away his hallway of their paintings, and uncover his painting supplies again. it was special to him, after all, and a hobby he’d locked away for too long after realizing the solace he found in keeping memories forever was embedding him into the past.

the paints and the blank canvasses were neatly wrapped in your room, along with a smaller box — dean’s present pile. there were more toys wrapped in a pile next to it, toys that cassius was far too spoiled already to need, but deserved anyways.

dean is not amused by the blindfold you put over his eyes as you led him to your shared room. or really, he was incredibly amused, but not so much to find out that all it served for was a dramatic way to lead him to his gifts while cassius napped downstairs.

“there are much more fun things that we could do with this blindfold,” he grumbles from in front of you, “there are much more fun things that we have done with it.”

“it is okay to be selfish and accept gifts sometimes, dean,” you say back, lightly kicking open the door with your foot to guide him inside.

dean is at his most shy and timid, somehow, on his birthday. as if he could make himself invisible and shrunken enough to be forgotten about, as if this day was not as equally about dean as it was cassius. “you are well aware of how little birthday gifts i’ve gotten over these years, aren’t you?”

“that is why i’ve got you three today.”

he can’t see, but he can hear the rustling of wrapping paper. shifting around, moving him as you so please, until he’s sat on the edge of the bed, and you are sitting at his feet in front of him, can feel the warmth of your humanity seeping into his legs.

something heavy lands in his lap.

“you may take it off,” you hum, and dean is not surprised to see that when he does, you are wearing a smug grin that makes you all the more beautiful. “go on. open it. that’s why gifts exist; to be opened.”

“i have not gotten a birthday gift in a while,” dean says with a huff, lifting his eyes as he tears into the wrapping paper to meet yours, “but that does not mean i need the process explained—”

his words die in his throat.

his paints. the ones that created life out of people he’d long killed. his heart falters. his mind blanks.

“this—” you pat the biggest gift behind you; flat and hollow when your hand touches it, “is some of the canvases i found too. i was just thinking— well, about how you paint everything you love in case it leaves.”

dean can’t even find the words to respond. his eyes stay locked on yours with a vulnerability you rarely see. “but i’m not leaving. and cassius is not leaving. and i think a family portrait for the front entrance would look lovely, don’t you?”

his swallow is thick and unnecessary, but he feels the lump in his throat and simply can’t help it.

instead of addressing your words, or the paints in his lap, or anything, he looks at the third present sat in your lap. his voice is raw when it comes out. “what is that one?”

dean’s paintbrushes, he assumes. fits the theme, would complete the puzzle.

your lips curl in a little grin. “those are cassius’s building blocks and perhaps a toy train. i can’t spoil everything.”

the attempt at lightening the mood works. he sets the paints aside and leans forward, lifting your chin with one finger and reaching into your lap with the other of his hands. “i meant this, little devil.”

there is no explanation or comments from you this time, as he opens it. it was hasty, the way he tore in, feeling light and airy like he did as a child on christmas. it’d been a long time since dean had felt so free.

it was not paintbrushes as he assumed, though. for the second time in one evening, you’d shocked the words out of him.

impossible, his mind begins to repeat again, but it’s quieter. less insistent. the voice of his subconscious had already been proven wrong once before.

a pregnancy test with two lines sits in the little jewelry box you’d tucked it away in.

the lump in his throat is tight, heavier. his mouth opens, closes, opens again, and no words come out. dean is left holding a pregnancy test between his fingers like it might break, left staring at the one person who heard his cries for company and answered with a family.

a family. how long had it been since he let himself dream? of this, of you, of anything?

“i know it is yours and cassius’s day, but i figured…” you don’t even need to finish the sentence for dean to get it. this was something that he’d wanted desperately, a secret he shared only with you. his childhood was bleak and unforgiving. all dean wanted was a chance to start anew and make it better.

here it was, in the form of a stick and a woman and a toddler.

he is more ginger with the pregnancy test than he was with the paints. as much as he appreciated the sentiments being brought back up, painting sam and judas had pulled all of the fun and the peace out of the hobby. he had no intention of digging back into the part of himself that loved the art of creation, in any way.

but now, in his head, there’s the grant entrance of his manor. and above the fireplace is you next to him in acrylic, a little cassius painted onto his hip, and a little baby in your arms. it would be updated every time his children grew. it would be updated every year, maybe even, so he could have multiples of you in the dresses he loved so dearly, and to see the progression of his kids. his family.

the hand on your chin moves to the back of your neck, tugging you up and into his arms. his eyes close, breathing you in slowly. he’s always loved the warmth of your livelihood, and it felt that much more intense, knowing that there was another life now, too.

“you have a talent for making a man forget he doesn’t deserve this,” he whispers into your throat.

you grasp at the sleeves of his coat, the grin on your face evident even as its buried into his chest. he can feel it, the pull of your lips, your smiling mouth in his shirt. “i hope to foster that talent, then. to become an expert in bringing you a lifetime’s worth of better birthdays.”

dean doesn’t know how to tell you that these years with you have done plenty. this was all he needed — you and the family you brought to him — to have better days and better birthdays.

so he stays silent and holds you to him, letting himself slip away into this life that felt more and more like a wish come true with every passing day.

and it is only when the sounds of little footsteps start stomping up the stairs toward your room, toward his presents, that dean’s eyes lift up to meet the sleep mussed little boy babbling to himself — and the big brother t-shirt you’d had him in, only now noticed.

notes. i literally woke up just to write this quick asf & post it PLS. if it sucks my bad. i'm just a girl. happy bday my pookie beloved baby waby!!!

tags. @titsout4jackles @moonstruksandco @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @itzavahere @sagegreen17 @bruceewayne @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @deansbeer @blushpinkdoll @warpedless @sabrinasopposite @k-slla @deansbite @foolinthera1n @honeyryewhiskey @angelblqde @whyyouegg @bluemerakis @fallbhind @florchids @figthoughts @beausling @chevroletdean @mccartneyqp @bluestrd @sthefferrete @rubyvhs @tortureddarkstar @aileenunfiltered @frosttbitessam @theosaurous

[twstrenders]

IDIA SHROUD - Birthday Jacket SSR Renders!

requested by anon. | badges + alt. ver.:

+ bonus sparkle version:

[horangdie]

hijo del corazón

[mylovesstuffs]

FRI(END)S - Kim Taehyung

Genre: Non-idol au, bestfriends to lovers and romance

Pairing: Taehyung × fem!reader

Content: Love, comfort, slightest bit of angst, mutual pining, best friends in love, confession scene, domestic setting, fluff , bestfriend!taehyung, kiss and sweet physical intimacy (non-explicit)

Content Warning: Emotional vulnerability (e.g., fear of rejection, discussing insecurities), mild angst (e.g., tension in the confession scene, fear of losing the friendship), other than these there's no explicit content or heavy themes requiring further warnings

Word count: 2.04k+

A/N: Happiest birthday to our winter bear 🐻 we love you so much! I hope he's doing well in the military. I wonder if Jin and J-Hope will visit Tannies today. Also, I've made Joshua's oneshot for his birthday too so check that out as well.

And you were there on my lonely nights keeping me together, so wouldn't it make sense if I was yours and you could call me your baby? But we say we're just friends...just for now

You were no stranger to this room—the familiar scent of sandalwood mixed with hints of citrus lingered in the air. Taehyung had a thing for candles, and his apartment reflected that in abundance. Still, you hadn’t expected to find yourself here again, tucked under his favorite beige blanket while he strummed absentmindedly humming a tune that had yet to find its lyrics.

Your weekend plans were supposed to include lounging in your sweats, binge-watching some show you’d forgotten the name of. But one text—

“Come over, love.”

—and you were already slipping on your shoes and heading to his place.

It had always been like this with Taehyung. He was your best friend, your partner-in-crime, your favorite constant since 2009, when you first met in your awkward teenage glory. But somewhere along the way, lines had blurred, and your heart had started to ache in ways that best friends’ hearts shouldn’t.

-

“Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, realizing your eyes had been fixed on the curve of his lips as he sang softly. He stopped playing and tilted his head, those dark brown eyes searching yours.

“I wasn’t staring,” you said defensively,“Your voice was just…nice.”

His brows raised, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Nice? That’s all I get? Should I be offended?”

“Fine,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “Your voice is stupidly amazing. Happy now?”

He chuckled, a sound that wrapped around you like a warm hug. “Much better.”

The evening rolled on like it always did between you two. Comfortable. Easy. He made you tea while you ranted about your coworkers, calling one of them a "walking HR violation," which made him nearly choke on his laughter. It was moments like these—normal, mundane moments—that always made you question how this wasn’t something more.

When he returned with your tea, he sat beside you, closer than necessary but not close enough to feel like too much. His knee bumped yours, and neither of you moved away. He sipped his tea quietly, but his eyes lingered on you as you spoke. You always had his full attention.

“You know,” he began after a moment, his voice soft yet tinged with something you couldn’t quite place, “you really should stop wasting your energy on them. They don’t deserve you.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s true,” he countered, leaning back against the couch but never breaking his gaze. “You’re too good for people like that. Too good for a lot of things, actually.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips twitching in amusement. “Careful, Tae. People might think you actually like me or something.”

He didn’t laugh. Instead, his expression softened, his smile faltering just so slightly, and the air between you shifted. “What if I do?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the weight in his tone and not processing what he had just said. “Huh?”

“What if I do?” he repeated, his voice steadier this time but still so tender, “Like you. What if I’ve liked you all along?”

You stared at him, the tea in your hands growing colder by the second as you tried to process his words. “Tae…”

“Why do you always show up when I call?” he followed up to maybe urge you to think, there's no teasing edge to his voice.

“Now, what kind of question is that? You’re my best friend, Tae...Of course, I’m going to show up.”

He set his mug down with a sigh. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his sweater—a tell you’d learned meant he was nervous and slightly frustrated. “That’s the thing,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. “You’re always here. And I’m always calling you because I—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair as if searching for the right words, “I don’t think I want to just be your best friend anymore.”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d heard him right again—questioning your hearing ability, “What?”

“You don’t have to say anything,” his hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. The touch was light, fleeting, but it sent a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the tea. “I just… I need you to know. You’ve always been there for me, even when no one else was. And I can’t keep pretending that this—us—feels like just friendship.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in. You wanted to say something, to tell him you felt the same, but the lump in your throat wouldn’t let you.

“I know it’s scary,” he continued, his hand lingering near your face before he pulled it back, resting it on his knee. “And I know it could change everything. But doesn’t it make sense? After all these years, after everything… doesn’t it make sense for us to be more?”

You want to tell him that it does make sense, it always has but nothing comes out of your mouth.

After you don't say anything at all, he let out a nervous laugh, shaking his head. “Forget I said anything—”

“No,” this time you voiced out interrupting him, now placing your mug down too and leaning closer. “Say it again.”

Shocked, his eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of fear and hope. “I don’t want to be just friends anymore. I don’t think I’ve wanted that for a long time.”

Then the room fell silent, the weight of his final confession settling like a soft, undeniable truth in the air. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing in the quiet room. His words replayed in your mind, intertwining with memories of the past—every stolen glance, every touch that seemed to hold a deeper meaning, every late-night conversation that left you wondering what if. You thought of those moments when the lines between friendship and something more blurred so effortlessly, leaving you breathless and confused. Now, with his words hanging between you, it all made sense—every laugh, every comfort he offered on your loneliest days, every unspoken feeling tucked into the corners of your shared history. And suddenly, the weight of it wasn’t heavy at all. It felt like coming home.

“Tae,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes.

“Why are you crying?” he asked softly, concern etched across his face.

“Because I’m an idiot,” you said, letting out a watery laugh. “I’ve felt the same way, but I was too scared to say anything.”

He stared at you, his lips parting slightly as if trying to process your words. Then, in one swift movement, he closed the distance between you, pulling you into a hug so tight it felt like he was trying to hold you together from breaking.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he murmured against your hair, his voice breaking slightly.

“Because I was afraid that my feelings won't be reciprocated, you'll drift away,” you admitted, your hands clutching the back of his sweater. “I didn't want to lose you.”

“You could never lose me,” he said firmly, pulling back just enough to cup your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears streaming down your cheeks. “Not in this lifetime, love.”

Love.

His gaze flicked to your lips, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. Then, with a soft, “Can I?” he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was everything you hadn’t known you’d been waiting for.

It was warm and gentle, like a promise whispered in the quiet of dawn—a promise that neither of you had spoken aloud, but both had been carrying in your hearts for years. His hands cradled your cheeks with a tenderness that made your chest ache, the pads of his thumbs brushing against your skin to reassure himself that this moment was real. He held you close, but not too tight, as if giving you room to pull away if you wanted. You didn’t pull away. You couldn’t. Instead, you leaned into him, your heart racing yet somehow feeling entirely at peace. Your fingers found their way to his hair, threading through the soft, messy strands. The texture of it under your fingertips, the subtle way he shivered at your touch, sent warmth coursing through you.

You tugged him closer, closing the last fragile inches between you until there was no space left, no room for doubt or hesitation. His lips moved against yours slowly, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to memorize the shape of you. Every touch felt deliberate, every movement careful, pouring years of unspoken feelings into this one kiss.

It was vulnerable not desperate. His breath mingled with yours, shaky and uneven, but it made you feel grounded, like you belonged right there in his arms. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the quiet hum of his presence, the soft brush of his lips, and the steady thrum of your heartbeat that seemed to echo his own.

When he finally pulled back, just an inch, his forehead rested against yours. His breathing was ragged, his gaze still heavy-lidded and vulnerable. But the way he looked at you—made you feel like the most loved person in the world.

“So,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips, “does this mean we’re putting the end in friends?”

You laughed, swatting his arm lightly. “That was terrible.”

“Yeah, but it made you laugh,” he said, grinning.

-

Later that night, after he’d handed you a bouquet of flowers he’d somehow hidden in his kitchen, because of course, the hopeless romantic that he was—you found yourself back on his couch. His arm was draped lazily over your shoulders, pulling you just close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body pressing into yours.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single lamp casting golden hues across his sharp features. His thumb traced absentminded circles over your shoulder, sending gentle sparks up your spine. You tilted your head to glance at him, and the smile on his lips was crooked, almost shy and then his boxy smile, but his eyes told a different story, a gaze so deep and intent that it left you breathless.

“You’re staring,” you teased softly, though your own eyes lingered far longer than than him.

“Can you blame me?” he murmured, his voice low and warm, tinged with that deep timbre that always seemed to melt you.

You felt your cheeks heat under the weight of his gaze, and before you could respond, he leaned in, his nose brushing against yours in a touch so soft it almost wasn’t there. His free hand moved to your knee, his fingers resting lightly but firmly, like he was testing the waters.

“Taehyung,” you whispered, his name falling from your lips like a secret you weren’t sure you were supposed to say.

He chuckled quietly, the sound rumbling against your skin as he shifted just a little closer. “Hmm?”

“I can hear your heart racing,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, it’s racing,” he admitted, his smile widening just enough to make your stomach flutter. “But so is yours.”

His words hung in the air, a quiet challenge wrapped in sweetness, and without thinking, you leaned into him, resting your head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, grounding, and as you closed your eyes, his lips pressed a feather-light kiss to your hairline.

“You know,” he began softly, his voice dripping with a teasing undertone, “I think I’m going to keep hiding flowers around the house. Just so I have an excuse to see that look on your face again.”

You laughed, your voice muffled against his shirt, and he tightened his hold on you, “that's ridiculous.”

“Is it? I think you'll love it every time,” he countered, grinning as his hand slid to gently tilt your chin up, his eyes locked on yours. You didn’t deny it. How could you, when being there, wrapped in his arms, felt like the most natural thing in the world?

Friends don't say words that make friends feel like more than just friends, just for now...now I'm over pretending, so let's put the end in friends ~ FRI(END)S

[allieslittlewritings]

happy natasha romanoff day to all those who celebrate <\3

[stargirlygirl]

birthday gift

bakugou katsuki x fem!reader ⋆｡°✩ — no quirk college!au, bit of angst, mostly fluff, 2.9k words, this is for you sanrio girlies!

Bakugou, like every other guy outside of the Sanrio-sphere, thought you were a little bit crazy when he saw your My Melody keychains dangling from your denim shoulder bag. When you two were on your first date and you got super excited over the café you went to doing Hello Kitty and Friends latte art, he grumbled and made a mental note that you were definitely crazy. And after you two started dating, and he saw your Sanrio plushie collection and themed slippers, he knew for sure you were insane. But even then, he couldn’t stop hanging around you.

There was something so attractive about you, magnetic. Maybe it was how you giggled so cutely and femininely whenever you teased him, or how beautiful and big your eyes looked when they stared up, into his own sharper and fierce ones. He was drunk on the way your hips swayed ever-so-slightly when you walked, and the way you sucked your lower lip between your teeth when concentrating hard. Even in the exam hall, he found himself stealing glances at you. You who was fiercely scribbling away on your own exam paper, alternating between biting and licking your lip. And of course, who, other than Bakugou, would kiss you better after such a taxing exam?

The point being, he couldn’t get enough of his crazy lil’ girl. You had been on his mind impossibly more since your birthday was coming up this Friday. He was contemplating whether to take you back to the Hello Kitty latte art café or to get you something Kuromi themed. He was overthinking like crazy, blond brows furrowed, mouth twisted into a scowl as he death-stared his notebook during his 11am lecture. What gift would be good enough for his perfect princess?

Bakugou’s frustration radiated off him, rippling in waves that had Denki, who was sitting next to him, leaning away and over to Kirishima. He whispered, “Did I do something or?” The red-haired boy shook his head, stealing a long glance at his clearly annoyed best friend. Denki sat on the edge of his seat, leg bobbing up and down as he and Kirishima exchanged glances. “Stop that.” Bakugou turned to look at the both of them, the command ripping out of his throat like a snarl. Denki squeaked a little in response, his leg stilling. He leaned even closer to Kirishima, whispering in his ear, “It was me! What did I do that was so wrong? Why does Bak—”

“Shut up!” Bakugou almost yelled. Students around the trio were beginning to look over at them, curious as to what had set the ash-blond off this time. Denki seemed to be the culprit in their eyes. Kirishima pushed Denki by the shoulder away, now leaning over him to tell Bakugou to keep his cool because he was making a scene. Bakugou scoffed in response, turning away from the pair and folding his arms across his chest.

For the remainder of the lecture, Bakugou couldn’t focus — not that he was focusing in the first place. Once it hit 1pm, he got up and stalked out of the hall, not waiting for his companions. He fell into into his usual walk, shoulders hunched, books under his arm, hands in his pocket. From behind him, he could hear his friends calling after him, but he ignored them as he usually does and made his way to the soccer field.

Allow me to clarify, Bakugou doesn’t play soccer, and while his friends do, their practice is usually later in the afternoons. Furthermore, you don’t play soccer. But your friend, — and unfortunately, Bakugou’s ol’ high school gossiper — Mina, is the captain of the cheerleading team who are practising on the soccer field for next week’s game. With B1 and B2 running after him, Bakugou comes to the field, spotting the pink-haired girl with her back to him, standing in front of her team. She doesn’t notice him until he draws closer, oblivious to his presence as she gives feedback on the performance run they just finished. “Ochaco, I need a little more enthusiasm from you—”

“OI! PINKY!” Mina turns around, seeing Bakugou stomping his way over to her and Kirishima and Denki puffing hard a few metres behind him. She turns back around, telling her team to take five. The team dissipates quickly, like a school of fish scurrying away from a shark. She sighs, turning around and placing her hands on her hips. “What do you want, grumpy?” She narrows her eyes at the boy as he stops a few feet away. He rolls his eyes, already regretting his decision to ask for her help in picking out a birthday gift for you.

Bakugou scoffs before starting quietly, “I need your help—” “You WHAT?” Mina has her hand behind her ear, half cupping it as if such a gesture would channel the sound of what she thinks the most stubborn grump said into her ear. Bakugou grits his teeth in response, Kirishima and Denki coming right up behind him. “I need your help, alright?! I don’t know what to get [y/n] for her birthday.” It was as if just saying those words released some of the tension in the ash-blond’s shoulders (because it did). A look of relief washed over Denki, “Oh, so that’s what you’re so cranky about. I thought it was because of m—”

“Shut up, nerd.” Bakugou spared the babbling boy a glare that cut through the air like a knife. He turned back to ‘pinky’ in front of him, hands becoming clammy in his pockets. “So?” Mina looked at him, holding back her laughter until she couldn’t any longer. Bakugou scowled as she laughed at him, clearly amused by the entire situation. “How-how do you-how do you not know what to get your girlfriend for her birthday?” By the time she was finished cackling, she was wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, saying “That was the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

“You done now?” Bakugou’s hands had left his pockets so that his arms could cross over his chest once more. His foot tapped against the fresh-cut grass. “Yes, okay okay,” Mina giggled as she regained most of her composure. “Why don’t you just get her something that she told you she wants? Like, didn’t she mention anything that she’s had her eye on?” Bakugou sighed. His voice dripped with sarcasm, “Wow, you’re genius. I hadn’t tried that one.” At this, Mina’s brows furrowed and she pouted, “Well, I’m not the one who can’t think of a gift idea for their girlfriend.”

Bakugou felt that this conversation was taking years off of his life. “Are you gonna help me or not?!” He was leaning forward now, eyes staring holes into the girl in front of him. Kirishima’s hand flew instinctively to his friend’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright bro. Just relax. This isn’t very manly of you.” Bakugou shrugged the red-head’s hand off of him. Mina gave Kirishima a grateful look. Even though the two weren’t dating yet, she was glad to know that he would always have her back. At least, when it came to Bakugou’s temperament.

Mina raised her hands in defence, “Okay okay, I’ll help you. What about getting her something Sanrio-themed? Like a purse or something.” Bakugou sighed again. He was becoming a man of sighs and frustration-wrinkles over this situation. Why was it so hard to just get his girlfriend a gift? He’s gotten you a few before and you had loved them all. Why would this time be any different?

At his quietness, Mina gave Kirishima a look of “Omg is he okay?” To which he shrugged. “Hey, Baku-bro, you right?” Bakugou blinked rapidly, coming back from the depths of his thoughts. He nodded, his voice raspy as he said, “I was gonna but I don’t know, I already got her a Hello Kitty jersey for Christmas.” Mina smiled, remembering how you had texted the group chat that night ecstatic about it. It was only after a month that you had calmed down and started wearing other tops.

“Trust me, she’s gonna love whatever you think of.”

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

Today was your birthday and you were so so excited! You can’t remember ever having been this excited about a birthday before. It was going to be your first ever birthday spent with Bakugou as you two met shortly after your one last year.

You had just woken up. Checking your notifications quickly after turning off your alarm, you notice a text message from your beloved wishing you a happy birthday. You instantly smiled, clicking on the notification to open up your message app and respond with your thanks. You put your phone down, getting out of bed to make it and drink some water. You settle into your morning routine, going about your morning as you always do. The only thing different was that you kept humming and doing little dances, goofing around. You lived in a college dorm alone while your boyfriend lived with his friends in an apartment close to campus. You were excited for the date that he had planned for tonight.

After making yourself some blueberry pancakes with cookies and cream ice cream (fire combo pls try omg you won’t regret it) and devouring them, you hear your phone buzz. Placing the plate and cutlery by the sink, you grab your phone from the bench, the screen lighting up with text messages from ‘Baby Suki’. You giggle to yourself, reading and replying to them. He’s being so kind and caring to you this morning… Just kidding, he’s being his usual self, brash and direct with a dash of sweetness sprinkles.

You notice some other birthday text messages from your friends and peers. You take your time responding to them, your body leaning against the dining table.

Later in the morning, Mina and Ochaco stop by, giving you the most beautiful bouquet of your favourite flowers. It has you in tears, and you all hug as you cry from joy and they tell you not to cry. They stay over at your dorm for a while. You talk about so many things, from the latest episodes of the show you were watching to your assignments.

Around noon, you hear a knock on your door. You told the girls to stay where they were, Mina protesting about how the birthday girl shouldn’t be working on her birthday, but you paid it no mind. You opened the door, Midoriya standing there holding a homemade charcuterie board.

You squealed in excitement, inviting him inside and leading him to the couches. Once he placed the board on the coffee table, you gave him a big hug. Midoriya returned it with warmth and you told him to stay while you all snacked on his delicious girl dinner.

The three of them stayed with you until it 4pm. You had been so lost in conversation that you hadn’t noticed it had gotten so late. You had stood up frantically, telling them about your date with Bakugou tonight. They looked at you with knowing eyes and left peacefully. Well, everyone but Mina who wiggled her eyebrows at you. But, you would interpret that later.

Now, you had to focus on getting ready for your date. You showered, lathered yourself up in oils and moisturiser, and wrapped yourself in a thick bath robe. You then curled your hair, clipping rollers in so they would set. Next, you worked on your makeup.

Tonight, you were going for a glowy, blush-centric look. The result? It was giving!! You then carefully slipped your dress on. It was a cute maxi dress in your favourite colour that highlighted your waist and décolletage. You had bought this one specifically for your date and you were very excited to wear it out. You finished off by taking out your rollers out and fluffing your hair, spritzing on your favourite perfume, and adding your favourite pieces of jewellery. The clock struck 7pm and your phone buzzed. You ran over to it, reading Bakugou’s message that he was at your door. Weirdo, he usually knocks and then barges in.

You smiled wide, maybe he was just nervous. You strapped on your heels, grabbed your favourite purse with your My Mel keychains attached, and then you were walking to the door. You opened it, Bakugou in a pair of jeans, button-up shirt, and matching denim jacket greeting you. You giggled, immediately crashing into his arms to give him a big bear hug. He chuckled at your affection, one hand around your upper back and the other patting your head. You were in heaven just by being in his arms, inhaling his smoky-sweet scent, and this was just the beginning of the night.

“I missed you.” “I can tell,” he looked down at you, grinning wide. “Wanna get going?” You nodded in response. He had his arm wrapped around you as he whisked you away. Where he was taking you though was a surprise.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

He parked the car on one of the busy main roads, coming over to the passenger side to offer you a hand out of the car. You smiled, enjoying his act of gentlemanliness. He took your hand and let you down the strip, keeping you closest to the shops and him to the road. You walked for a couple of minutes before Bakugou stopped. You stopped too, arm pulled back by his. You looked up at him and watched as he nodded to something behind you. You turned around, hand still holding his. You saw where he had brought you and squealed in delight. You were so happy and excited that you started jumping up and down and gave him a big cuddle. He laughed, teasingly asking you, “Oh, you like?” You nodded and grabbed his hand tight, practically dragging Bakugou into the newly opened Sanrio Miniso.

You two worked your way around the store, Bakugou holding a basket which you filled with careful deliberation. Cinnamoroll perfume, Kuromi flask and matching bento set, blind box, new My Melody slippers. You were ecstatic as Bakugou paid for your birthday haul and carried the bag. Even so, as you two left the store and walked further down the crowded street. You were in a frenzied dopamine daze. You couldn’t stop smiling and giggling and thanking your boyfriend for being so thoughtful and paying for your new Sanrio goodies.

The night was still young. He took you for dinner and ice cream afterwards. All the while, holding your hand or the small of your back and teasing you sweetly. The night ended with him dropping you back to your dorm, walking you to your front door of course. You drew him into a passionate kiss, hands grasping his button-up shirt as his jacket was around your shoulders. He smiled into your lips, hands on the back of your neck and waist. You could taste the caramel ice cream he had eaten only half an hour earlier. It’s sweetness made you melt into his arms, knees weakening as he drew your bottom lip between his teeth to nip at it.

At last, you two pulled away from each other, foreheads pressed together as you both caught your breath. You breathed out, “Thank you for the best birthday ever.” He chuckled, moving back so he could cup your face in his large hands. He shook his head at you, still laughing a little. “What?” “Nothing,” he smiled. He let go of you, handing you your miniso bag. “I’ll see you later. Don’t stay up too late.” He stepped back. “If I do it’s your fault,” you joked. You turned around, fishing your dorm key out of your bag. Luckily, you found it quickly and unlocked your door. You pushed it open and half-stepped inside before turning to look back at him. He was standing there with his hands in his jean pockets.

“Let me put this down and I’ll give you back your jac—” “Keep it.” And with that, Bakugou walked away. You watched as he stopped at the elevator down the hall and pushed the button.

You dropped your bags inside your door and started running after him. “Bakugou! Wait!” He turned around, eyebrows raised at your enthusiasm and sudden outburst of exercise. You were huffing by the time you reached him. The elevator dinged. You threw your arms around him, your heart beating erratically against his slightly elevated one. The elevator doors opened and closed as you held him and he held you. “What is it?” You looked up at him. “Thanks,” you smiled.

He scoffed and ruffled your hair. “Weirdo,” he said as he pulled away from you. He pressed the elevator down button again and the doors opened. “Go back to your dorm already.” He eyed you as he stepped into the elevator. You giggled and you saluted him. “Yes sir.” The elevator doors shut, taking your boyfriend away from you for the night. You couldn’t stop smiling and excitedly whispering to yourself as you made your way back to your dorm and took your makeup and dress off. Even once you had put your silk pjs on and brushed your teeth, you were still so excited and happy. That night, it took a while for you to get to sleep, but you had the sweetest dreams.

[jaskersneakthief]

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

ONAF DIVIDERS AND STAMPS!!! (part 1, if I ever want to make more,..,:3)

This is my first time making these thingies and it's sm fun aAUUGH!!

here,.,. A gift for all flumpers....

Use them if u want!!!!—⁠☆★

[soporificangel]

[strnilolover]

✰ Baker!Matt and Reader surprising their daughter with a birthday cake for her 3rd birthday!

requested : yes by this anon!

Matt had been planning your daughter’s birthday cake for weeks now. Wanting to make sure he got your now three year old daughter’s vision right, with bright pastel colors and little unicorns.

To say he was a perfectionist was an understatement — he was always making sure his cakes and pastries and anything he made was perfect. He just wanted it to be so special for his little princess — your little bun.

But, when you offered to help, he couldn’t say no. “You sure?” he teased as you pulled on an apron, turning yourself around so he could tie it behind your back. “You remember what happened last time you tried to make something?” he said, a fat grin plastered across his face as his fingers gently tied the strings into a little bow.

You shot him a glare over your shoulder, quickly turning yourself around. “That was one time! and it’s not my fault i forgot about the cookies in the oven.” You quipped back as you pushed he shoulder a little.

He held his hands up in surrender, that same stupid grin on his lips. “I’m just sayin’ baby. Luckily i’ll be here this time.” He said, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek and you rolled your eyes playfully. It was hard to stay annoyed at him.

You both eventually got to work, Matt occasionally guiding your hands when you needed help. “Easy, like this.” he murmured, as he helped you fold in the ingredients. You smiled — appreciating his help.

Somehow the kitchen ended up in a mess. Flour dusting both your aprons and the counter — as well as the floor a little — but it was fun nonetheless. Here and there you’d make a playful remark, resulting in Matt throwing some food item at you. But you’d throw one right back at him in return.

When it was time to decorate, the two of you covered the cake in pastel swirls and added the glittery sprinkles and tiny fondant flowers. Now for the unicorns, Matt took care of those. He had carefully sculpted the flowers and unicorns and rainbows from fondant — making sure it was absolutely perfect.

When it came time to bring the cake out, you both brought it into the living room where your daughter sat on the floor, surrounded by her new toys. Matt carefully carried the cake while you walked beside him. “Ready?” you whispered, squeezing his arm slightly. He nodded, both of your footsteps careful and calculated.

Together, you both sang “Happy birthday to you..” as you walked more into the living room. Your daughter’s eyes lighting up at the sight of the cake. She gasped, her tiny hands moving herself off the floor.

“Cake!” she squealed, clapping her hands excitedly. “Is for me?” she asked quietly — her eyes wild and wide as she stared the cake down.

Matt set the cake down on the table and knelt down to her level. “Yep, all for you birthday girl.” he said, smiling as he ruffled her hair slightly.

She toddled over, peeking at the cake with her wide eyes. “So pretty.” she whispered, reaching out with hesitant fingers before looking up at you both. “Thank you mommy! Thank you daddy!” Her voice filled with awe, and she giggled, jumping up and down.

You couldn’t help but smile, watching Matt’s face soften and he leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Happy birthday, bun.” you both said as she admired the special cake you made just for her.

[snaillock]

all patched up

becoming infatuated with the infirmary nurse after getting socked in the face by your own teammate. just a regular ol' day in blue lock. wc: 0.8k

rin stepped into the infirmary with blood-stained tissues held up to his aching nose. he heard the sound of anri closing the door behind him as he looked up to see you sitting on a desk, writing something down.

both of you guys were very surprised to see each other, though for very different reasons. rin’s mind flooded with different questions. who is this? why is there someone about his age in the infirmary? is this the person who’s supposed to fix his nose? there’s no way.

you immediately stood up from your chair and walked up to him, staring at his nose.

“oh god, what happened to you?”

“i don’t wanna talk about it,” he grumbled. getting kneed in the nose by shidou was already humiliating enough. how was he supposed to share it with his supposed doctor who looked young enough to be his classmate.

“that’s perfectly okay. we don’t have to discuss it right now. just sit down over there.”

he sat down on the paper-covered infirmary bed you gestured to and eyed you suspiciously as you took some gloves out and put them on.

“you seem way too young to be doing this,” he said almost accusatorially.

“oh me? i’m just a part of a program my school is doing for colleges. i joined since i plan to study sports medicine,” you said as you moved your chair over and sat in front of him to feel the bridge of his nose, making rin flinch from the unexpected touch and slight pain.

“they really hired a teenager for this?” rin questioned, shifting his eyes away from your focused look on his nose. he tried to keep his focus off the unfamiliar feeling of a hand on his face as he felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him from letting another person around his age do this. still, he complied, not wanting to inconvenience you or him

“hey! i’m very experienced in this, alright? besides, the person supervising me isn’t here right now,” you then leaned in closer to whisper, “and between you and me, this whole establishment here seems mad shady. however, it was one of the few places that were willing to pay me for this so i won’t be complaining.” you shrugged as you finished checking his nose, mentally noting his sudden quietness.

“ok so luckily, it’s only a minor fracture -i’m assuming from blunt trauma- so you’ll need to wear a splint for about a week, then you should be good to go.”

he simply nodded, staying silent as you rolled your chair to the desk to get some things out of the drawers. you then scooted back in front of him.

“ok rin, can you tilt your head back for me?”

he did as you said, feeling his palms getting clammy for reasons unknown to him. he instinctively squeezed his eyes shut in, anticipating any pain, when you pinched his nose's bridge to ensure it was aligned beforehand. the feeling of your fingers gently but firmly moving his chin back into place whenever he slightly moved was fleeting yet brought him an unfamiliar and uneasy sensation to his stomach.

halfway through, he opened his eyes to see your focused face working. he felt way too awkward to close them again so he was stuck staring right at you, unintentionally gazing at all your features. his overwhelming nervousness practically overtook the pain of the splint being applied and inserted into his nose.

“alright, there! you’re all done now and you’re free to leave,” you declared. rin unconsciously let out a huge sigh of relief before you stopped him from getting up.

“wait hold on.” you took off your gloves and pressed the back of your hand on his forehead, feeling an unusual amount of heat. “are you feeling feverish in any way?”

“no, i’m not,” he answered a lot more shakily and less audible than he wished. god, he really wanted to crawl into a hole right now.

“hmm okay,” you hummed to yourself while observing the flush on his face that he seemingly wasn’t aware of. you then took another glance at him and all the suspicion and concern instantly left your eyes, replaced with something else. a slight smile creeping on your lips. “oh i see… well rin, you can go back now.”

the sudden switch in your tone surprised him but he nodded and got up quickly to head to the door, wanting to leave before his mind could process all these feelings.

when he was already out in the hallway, you rushed to the door and called out for him. “wait, one last thing rin!” your voice made him immediately stop in his tracks to turn and look at you.

“next time, try to avoid picking fights with your own teammates,” you said with a knowing grin, watching the flush on his face deepen, “yeah, i saw the footage. good luck out there and stay safe, number 1.”

you went back inside the infirmary, shutting the door behind you, leaving him out and alone in the hallway. rin sighed and turned around, wondering how he was supposed to return with his face looking like this.

taglist(sign up): @userwithlotsoftime @lucas2060 @kiiyoooo

happy birthdayyy to my beloved edgy bastard!!!! to celebrate, i decided to dig up this lil old prompt i randomly came up with about a month ago or so and finally use it.

[zu-is-here]

not feeling like a muse on his belated birthday

[1/27] Underlust by nsfwshamecave

[daylighted]

ㅤㅤ ㅤa birthday like this ─ dean winchester.

baby sister!winchester oc & dean winchester, called bug. or, the only one to remember her big brother's birthday.

not a series! exists purely for writing ideas i get that cannot fit an x reader plotline. dean is 22, bug is 6. bug will gradually age in each possible coming part.

warnings. pure fluff! dean's birthday has the baby fever so high. there's, like, background angst, but it's nothing too bad<3

───────────────────────────────────

dean winchester decided that morning that he was not celebrating his birthday today. it'd been an idea long in the inner workings of his brain, mostly because there was no reason to celebrate it, on his end.

sam was away on a high school trip. john wouldn't be home for weeks, dean figured, so he signed the return slip in his place to at least grant his little brother that simple sense of normalcy. and bug was only starting to figure out that she was a person, let alone know what days were important compared to other days.

john was notorious for forgetting birthdays. he'd had a little girl when dean was sixteen and brought her home and seemed to forget that she even existed, most of the time.

the idea was cemented the morning of january 24th, when he woke up to his cellphone ringing on the bedside table next to him. for a moment, he really thought that his dad was calling to tell him happy birthday. for a moment, he was almost struck speechless.

but all john said on the other side of the line was a location, and a general debriefing of a case, before not-so-politely telling him to get on it.

dean was not disappointed, because he hadn't been expecting anything. but he was irritated. it was a prime example of the fact that he was only at home right now because someone needed to watch over bug, and it certainly wasn't going to be her father, who slipped away at the first chance he got. conveniently, dean was not told what to do with bug, so long as he took his father's orders and got shit done.

he slipped out of bed, a hand ruffling through his sleep mussed mop. through his gapped door, he could already hear bug singing to herself, and the sound of something getting scribbled on. of course he was set to have to clean crayon off of the walls on his birthday.

he changes out of his pajamas quickly and into a variation of his everyday wardrobe, and sighs heavily as he pushes open his bedroom door, bracing himself for the worst.

to dean's surprise, there was no mess. just a little girl sitting at the small kitchen table, hair more mussed than his was, still wearing the cowboy hat pajamas she loved so dearly. a piece of paper was in front of her, one that was being utterly decimated by the scribbles of a red crayon.

"hey, baby bug," dean sighs, his lips pulling into a tight smile, "hate to interrupt your riveting morning, but dad's got us goin' on the road tonight."

"on the road?" she asks, her head tilting to the side. still, her eyes don't leave the paper, her eyebrows furrowed as she focuses so heavily on the scribblings.

dean huffs out a laugh. "tell me about it."

bug is quiet for a second, the only sound in the room being the rough etches of her crayon against the paper. he realizes very quickly that if he wants to be in the car and to georgia before sundown, he's going to have to take matters into his own hands and get his baby sister moving.

his footsteps echo on the hardwood of the apartment's floor as he approaches, clapping his hands together a couple of times to gather bug's attention. his arms slip under hers as he yanks her out of the dinning chair. bug's fist crumples her paper to grab it as she's yanked, already stringing out unintelligible noises that he assumes are little kid curses.

"i know, i know," he says, tucking her to his chest with one arm as he carries her into what was once her and sam's shared room, but has now become hers alone. "but i wanna beat the sunset, and we can't do that if we're coloring all day."

bug's head tilts again. she looks so much like dean, sometimes. she's only his sister half-biologically, but there's so much of him and sam in her that he forgets it often. sam's little smile when she's amused, dean's nose scrunch when she's pissy. her nose is extremely scrunched up right now.

"can i bring my picture?" she asks as he rifles through the mess that was her room. at one point, a low point, he got tired of being her primary caregiver and let it get to this point. toys everywhere, sam's clothes littering the floor, her clothes in his dressers, her favorite dresses in her toy box...

he'd clean it up eventually, he promises himself every day. but rarely did he get time for himself or time at all to try, and most nights anyways, he had bug in his bed, an arm secured around her. there was no way he was going to run the risk of nearly losing her like he had with sam so long ago, when she was too little to know that possibility even existed.

dean helps her get properly dressed, running a brush through the tangly knots of her hair, before he answers. "promise not to color all over baby?"

the smile in the mirror's reflection was often the one thing that kept him from losing his mind. no, bug was not something he asked for, especially not to play father over her, but he could never be mad at her for that. "i promise."

"then sure," he says with a little shrug, grabbing a little sparkly ponytail from the top of the dresser and looping it through her hair, "only bring like, six colors, though. so we know if you lost 'em."

"my favorite ones?"

dean shrugs again, giving her ponytail a little tug before leaning down to scoop her up again. "you bring your favorite ones, i'll make sure we don't leave 'em anywhere, yeah? extra special crayon patrol duty."

packing for these on-the-spot trips had become routine at this point. bug had gotten used to it, too, by now, even unceremoniously declaring herself on snack duty, which meant dean was eating strawberry banana puffs and sipping apple juice for the duration of the drive. he handled the scarier stuff; the weapons, the toiletries, and diapers, before she'd grown up and no longer needed them.

it gives him pause for a second, when he's loading her into her carseat in the back, at how big she's gotten. does their dad even know that bug is nearly at his waist now? that she can argue dean in circles?

he doubts it. their dad didn't even remember his oldest's birthday, after all.

dean studies the map and the route while bug scribbles more in the background, still humming to herself. he's certain it's a baby medley of metallica songs, as certain as he is that this trip is going to take past sunset, regardless.

he scrubs a hand over his face and tries, really tries, to keep the irritation at a minimum. it was never bug's fault, but he wished sometimes that he didn't have to drag her into all of this, and so young, too.

the drive is strenuous; back roads melting into back roads, driving through small towns of people who also don't know it's his birthday. at least they have an excuse.

"dean!" bug screeches over the rock music, and when he glances in the rearview mirror, he meets her bright-eyed expression. "blue or purple?"

dean's mouth scrunches up as he thinks, an expression that bug mimics in the reflection back at him. his heart warms. "both."

"i can't do that!"

dean scoffs. "baby bug, you can do anything. you could make the freakin' sky green, if y'wanted."

he's guessing at this point, unsure of what she was even coloring back there. he hadn't gotten a glance at it back in the apartment, and definitely couldn't see anything but a mass of blurry colors from the rearview mirror.

"there is no sky." said as if dean was supposed to know the inner workings of his baby sister's brain. "it is a flower."

"blue petals, purple petals. easy."

one more glance in the mirror, and he watches as bug's expression shifts in realization. catches the start of an approving nod. of course he knew what he was talking about; who did anyone think taught her how to color within the lines?

it's always peaceful, somehow, on these long drives. bug keeps him company, which he actually appreciates. the silence might have ruined him if he kept subjecting himself to it. he remembers a time when she used to wake up from every car nap wailing, and he'd have to pull over and soothe her to sleep or handfeed her strawberry banana puffs. now, she was pretty much a little human, and he still couldn't believe it.

not his daughter, but he loved her like one, he thought. dean only wished that their father did, too.

the diner he pulls into is a little rundown, but he knows from experience that these are the best ones. hole in the walls of small towns that don't get the luxury of keeping them secret. he finds them all.

it's not even ten seconds after they're seated that bug cuts in, interrupting the waitress's rehearsed lines. "it's his birthday."

dean actually falters, stuttering over the stern words about politeness and whatever else you're supposed to teach to kids to not let them turn into his father.

the waitress's eyebrows raise, a little smile curling on her mouth. "that so?" she taps her pen on the pad of paper in her fingers before she looks over at dean. he doesn't like this. there was some sort of communication in that look on her face and on bug's that he was not getting. "want a milkshake?"

"no," dean starts, his lips pulled tight, his throat tight, everything a bit more intense now, for some reason, couldn't understand why.

at the same time, bug says, "yes."

the waitress winks and stalks off before he can do a thing about it. "baby bug." his voice is stern, but not as stern as he wants it to be.

bug sits up straighter in her seat, tilting her chin up in a way that indicated he was about to have his ass handed to him. "why don't you want a milkshake?"

the truth was that he didn't want a birthday, but he couldn't explain his pessimism to a toddler, so he says, "because big kids want something stronger than milkshakes."

"two milkshakes?"

his eyes close for a second. alcohol is probably not a good thing to teach toddlers about, either. "i didn't even think you knew today was my birthday," he says instead, nudging her little hand over the tabletop.

a look of pure befuddlement crosses over bug's expression. "i know birthdays."

the picture that she'd been working on all day makes an appearance on the table. he knew she'd been clutching something in her hand when he carried her into the diner, but hadn't been very focused on what she was doing. it'd been a long day, long drive. it was probably a crayon she'd lose and they'd have to come back in for before they continued driving. extra special crayon patrol duty and all.

it's edges are crumpled from her little fist gripping it so tightly, and the fold of it is jagged, but there in front of him is a card. the front of it is entirely made up of red hearts, only little bits of white paper peeking between them.

dean's eyes flick between her and the card a couple of times, his jaw loosing and closing and opening again. "you've been making this for me? all day?"

"it is very special." bug adjusts on her side of the booth, balanced on her knees as she leans across to the center of the table to open it. "look."

on one side is a giant purple and blue flower. purple petals scattered between blue petals, and a clear mix of blue and purple for the stem, layered atop each other. on the other side, in big letters, some backwards, some uppercase and some lowercase, is happy birthday dean!!!!!

dean feels a little like a baby himself, with the way his breath hitches. he can't cry over a birthday card. how pathetic would that make him?

"the back is not done." she slides the card closer to dean, urging him to take it, nose scrunching up in that familiar contempt. "you said we have to come n' eat."

dean takes it from her, flipping it over to see what had her so twisted up. his eyes actually do well up, then, at the sight of a big stick figure drawn in blue and purple, and a littler one next to it, holding its hand, in blue, purple, and pink. the dress on the littler one, as she said, was not done. neither was the green sky.

"thank you," he says, his voice a little more breathless than he wanted it to be, a lot more choked up than he expected. "m'gonna keep this forever, y'know."

bug doesn't even look fazed at the fact that he was damn near crying over a handmade birthday card. in fact, she looks downright smug, wearing sam's dimpled smile. "y'better. i worked really hard."

"yeah, baby bug. it shows."

the waitress slides a milkshake in front of dean, and a littler one in front of bug. then she turns without another word to go to the back of house again. dean's a little too raw to care that they hadn't even ordered yet, plucking the cherry off the top of the whipped cream and chewing on it to keep from thinking too hard.

bug's chugged half of her milkshake by the time the waitress comes back, a slice of pie on a little plate with a lit candle in its center. "it's not much, but..." she trails off, glancing between bug and dean with a little smile, "i figured this was a very big deal."

bug nods furiously, still not having stopped drinking her pink milkshake. the sugar rush was going to be impossible when they reached the hotel, but with how light dean was feeling, he might end up jumping on the bed with her.

"make a wish!" bug huffs, her little leg kicking out at dean's knee beneath the table.

dean stares down at the cherry pie, the whipped cream hiding the candle's base in it's foam. what did you wish for when things never tended to go right?

in his pocket, dean's phone buzzes. he blinks once, blinks twice, before answering. "sam?"

"hey!" sam's voice is like a soothing distraction to the ache in his chest. he figured the field trip would take up most of sam's attention, hadn't been expecting any sort of phone call or word from him until he came home. he'd had a lifetime of doubts that kept him from believing that anyone could consider him. "happy birthday, dean."

his heart falters in his chest again. dean smiles before he can stop himself. "thanks, sammy," he says, his voice still rough on the edges, "wanna talk to bug?"

bug's already reaching across the table to steal the phone, and as she does, dean considers the candlelit pie again. he listens to sam's muffled voice from the other side of the booth, and bug's excited recounting of her birthday card making, and he knows what to wish for.

another birthday like this, dean thinks, as the flame dissipates into smoke.

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notes, cried writing this thank u for asking. this was one of those shower ideas that wouldn't go away, so... wrote it! anything for my birthday baby.

tags. @titsout4jackles @moonstruksandco @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @itzavahere @sagegreen17 @bruceewayne @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @deansbeer @blushpinkdoll @warpedless @sabrinasopposite @k-slla @deansbite @foolinthera1n @honeyryewhiskey @angelblqde @whyyouegg @bluemerakis @fallbhind @florchids @figthoughts @beausling @chevroletdean @mccartneyqp @bluestrd @sthefferrete @rubyvhs @tortureddarkstar @aileenunfiltered @frosttbitessam @theosaurous

[caseythebunnyboy]

bunny boy in a bubble bath!! 🐇💜

(he/him, gay man. read my dni. dont call my chest "tits, boytits, boobs, boyboobs, breasts" or anything like that. only call it a chest, nothing else)