#gift basket themes

[kkbardd]

some laminated clear cases & such that ive made so far w/ the addition of the jjk ones i just finished !!

[enchantedmooncandleco]

Get your loved ones a boo basket this year! The most important part? An Enchanted Moon Candle Co candle 🕯✨️

[roomselfcontain2]

Luxury new standard single room visit website Selfcontain house for rent pop standard home available now located at ada George off iwofe road in port Harcourt city rivers state nigeria.

[thepandalion]

Feeling super validated rn

[gourmetbasketsco]

Our Penguin's Holiday Goodness Gift Tower is brimming with holiday goodness! 

Lindt Lindor milk chocolate truffles, dark chocolate covered marshmallows, classic English fudge with sea salt, chocolate filled puff pastry, peppermint candy, Belvaux and Guylian traditional Belgian chocolate truffles, Ghirardelli milk chocolate peppermint bark - a blend of milk chocolate, white chocolate and pepperment packaged for the holidays, Italian milk chocolate pralines, tutti frutti candy, Yves Thuries French dark chocolate truffles and more make this penguin a welcome guest at any party.

[faesdreaming]

Yandere Fae - Temptation

he just wants to know your name, that’s all. he promises.

tw: yandere themes, possessive behaviour, reader is lowkey okay with it, implied murder, unhealthy relationships, stockholm syndrome (?)

“Come now, darling,” he croons, so very sweetly, “it’s just a name. I promise I won’t tell.”

He leans his cheek against your arm, gazing up pleadingly. You sigh as you feel your resolve waver. He— the fae— Lucian, he says his name is but you don’t know if he’s telling the truth.

Fae can’t lie, you’d been told as a child. The people of your town nary spoke of the faekind, save in warning tales. They’d told of weaknesses, of iron and salt. Lies. Falsehoods born from ignorance. Fae could lie, could weave truths of honeyed poison sweeter than any ambrosia. One thing you did know was not to tell one your name. Your grandmother had told you. She was the same woman who warned you of the dangers, who thwarted the ignorant claims of the fellow villagers

“Please.” Lucian all but whines. You can’t help but giggle in amusement. For such a powerful creature, he’s acting as though he were a puppy. “It’s just a name.”

But it’s not just a name. Name’s are powerful. They hold history, stories, one’s very being. So, you’ll refuse him once more. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Lucian tilts his head. The slightest hint of venom tinges his tone. His slit pupils are dilated double their size, like a predator catching sight of its prey. “Tell me your name.”

Lucian’s been persistent in his efforts. Ever since you moved into a cottage deep within the forest. Unable to bear the repetitive, noisy life of your village, you left. He’s been following you ever since you moved in. He’s bound, tethered to the place. To the land. Through magical means you don’t understand. Lucian adores pestering you with questions, and inane conversation, that you’ve grown to enjoy. But above all else, he seems determined to get your name. Not that you plan to give it to him.

He makes a frustrated noise, a pout forming on his lips. “You’re so stubborn.” Lucian complains. “Just tell me. I won’t tell anyone else, I swear.”

Liar, you think fondly, It’s cute, really, the effort he puts in.

Biting your lip, you briefly contemplate your sanity. Should others find themselves in this situation they wouldn’t be as calm. They’d panic. You should panic. You should probably run for the hills. For it’s not his status as a fae that forebodes danger. He’s— Lucian is complex.

The good-natured mask he wears is just that. A mask. One he wears for you. Your relationship with Lucian is multilayered. Surface level, it is a give and take. What he gives and what you take remains unclear. Surface level, you’re companions. But that implies trust. You don’t trust him. You’re smart enough not too.

“I’m heading out to town.” You tell him. “To the market.”

Lucian huffs. He storms off like a petulant child, intelligibly whining and a pout on his face. You roll your eyes. Gathering a basket and pulling on a cloak, you step out of the cottage. The way to town isn’t marked by a path. You memorize trees and large stones. Landmarks. You trek through the woodlands, thoughts of Lucian occupying your mind.

You hold a certain fondness for him. For the little game you two indulge in. It’s an odd affection, a tired, old one. He makes you cook for him, bemoaning your atrocious mortal cuisine as he eats all of it. He follows you around the cottage with seemingly no concept of personal space. He lingers around you, as if he were a ghost and you his haunt. He entertains you. With tall-tales spun from silk. He offers you gifts in the form of odd trinkets, flowers, nuts, sometimes gems.

Lucian perplexes you. Because despite the casualness of your relationship, you’d be a fool to not be aware of the power imbalance in between the two of you. There’s something dark, dangerous. An ancient, primal magic tethering him to the cottage. To you.

You shake off your wonderings as you reach a clearing. Down, to the left is a quaint little town. It’s sparsely populated, everyone knows everyone, at least everyone who inhabits the area. Locals are wary of travellers, yet they are not so foolish to deny potential patrons business. Their market, tavern, and inn are what’s to be expected of a place such as this. It’s sufficient for your needs, though. Far be it for you to complain.

You stop by the market, examining items being sold by the vendors. As you take an apple in hand, trying to determine whether the produce is worth it’s price, a hand reaches by you. Curiously, you sneak a glance to the person it belongs to.

You’re met with the appearance of a rugged, rogue. Weary from his travels, if you’d have to guess. He gives you half-grin half-smirk that makes your insides flutter. Normally, you’d offer him a flirtatious smile. Perhaps he’d ask to take you out for the night, to the tavern. You’d drink sweet mead and suggest stopping at an inn for the night. Spend it together. Alas, the sanctity of your normal ended upon your meeting with Lucian.

“‘Scuse me, love,” he says, voice a rough timbre. It’s so different than Lucian’s smooth, honeyed lilt. You like it. “You ain’t from ‘round here, eh?”

You nimbly step aside, appreciating the view. You should leave, you know the consequences if you stay. “No.” You tell him. “I live a little ways away.”

He smiles at that. A small little grin that’s almost a smirk. What a dangerous thing, he is. He starts chatting you up. You know what he wants from you and you’re quite certain he knows what he wants from you. You should be beyond such inhibitions— but it’s been so very long since you’d indulged in a bit of fun. So you let him take you back to his inn, slip something in his beer so when he’s done and your sated, he’ll slip right off. The moment he does, you slink away, trekking through the woods back home. Most people wouldn’t, scared of the dangers lurking. But the forest knows that the true danger resides within your home, guaranteeing your safety.

The moment you make it back, Lucian appears, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Entertaining night?”

His tone is frigid and cold, almost the same as his usual indifference. But you know him better than that. “Very.” You hum. “And yet, I’m here with you.”

“Yet you’re here with me.” He parrots. The shift in his demeanour is almost imperceptible, a change so subtle it appears meaningless. You watch as he slinks away, the satisfaction of his tone lingering throughout your mind. The affirmation, to both him and you, that you were here. That you came crawling back to him. That the pull, the tether he held on your being remained tight as ever.

That you were—

Not his. You were still your own being. You let out a shaky sigh and head up to bed. You’ve had too much to drink, you tell yourself. The next morn, when you awaken, groggily blinking, something immediately feels off. After living like this— after living with him— for so long, you’ve come to understand to trust your intuition while ignoring the warning bells ringing in your head.

You head down the stairs. Your body is heavy from your hang over. It dulls your senses. You know you need to be on guard, lest Lucian have his way. Speak of the devil, you muse, as he leans on the kitchen island smugly. “Rough night?”

“Don’t.” You warn, grabbing a pot and filling it with water to boil. Lician laughs. His laughter sharp and smooth. “Forgive me, lovely.” He croons. “I do not intend to rouse that temper of yours.”

You eye him suspiciously. Of course, you’re always suspicious in regards to him, but this behaviour is odd. Odder than usual. He usually demands you cook for him, asks for your name, then huffs when you rebuff him. It’s routine and Lucian isn’t one for breaking routine. You rake over his handsome, pointed features. He sports an usual grin. Self-satisfied and almost victorious. Then, you spot a crimson splatter along the underside of his throat.

“Is there something wrong, lovely?” He inquires, tilting his head almost as if to show you the blood stained on his neck.

Don’t give in. Don’t pay attention to it. You learned early on giving in only worsens his behaviour. “No.” You answer firmly. You avoid his question, evasive and ignorant. Your ignorance serves as a shield. “I ought to make something, barely ate yesterday.”

Lucian’s eyes flicker with both annoyance and pleasure. “Make me some too.” He orders, before sauntering off.

It sends a shiver down your spine, your compliance. Barely able to deny him, yet unable to give into him. It irks him. It also pleases him. It’s a game between the two of you. One neither of you can quit. You tow the line each time, out of selfishness. The desire to be free. To be as it was. It ends in his possessive fits, with blood shed, staining your hands crimson. Yet you continue. His attention is intoxicating. As addicting as mead. It drives you mad, tantalizes you, taunts you. But you don’t give in fully. Can’t. At least, not yet.

“Come now, lovely. I know you wish to fall into temptation with me.”

[productivefairy]

50 cute gift ideas

scented candles

heart shaped glasses

heart shaped picnic basket

quirky quote tee

aesthetic tea pot

vintage barbie

customized phone case

cute self defense tools

clueless pen

shell necklace

diy necklace

audrey hepburn sleep mask

water bottle

pink hairbrush

decorative pillows

flower vase

cherry earrings

vintage camera

silk/satin pjs

initial necklace

necklace with their bo

cool hairclips

gingham print anything

cute umbrella

custom tote

lana del rey lighter

lana del rey coke necklace

cute journal

quirky clocks

fancy choclates

coquette notecards

cute themed tarot cards

white and pink chessboard

books

a playlist dedicated to them

polaroid

home baked goods

diy night lights

soft toy

fluffy blanket

perfume

thrifted shoes that you dyed by yourself

bouquet of their fav flower

handwritten note

quirky socks

lip balm

strawberry printed bedsheet

Ghibli stickers

luxe nailpaint

custom bookmark

[rebelbrat]

Happy Hanukkah!

[piratefishmama]

Every year, for every random holiday, Eddie winds up with a present in his locker. He has no idea where these come from.

They're not random "this could be for ANYONE" gifts either. They're themed, so it's not like someone's just mistakenly put them into his locker.

Valentines day usually gets him a little bag of homemade chocolates shaped like dice and a random mini fig theme painted for the day, meaning he has a good few random minis painted in reds and pinks with funny heart motifs, he has a human archer painted like cupid!!

Easter gets him another basket full of homemade chocolatey goodies, one time he got a half a chocolate egg filled with a delightful creamy substance that hid more dice chocolates and reeces pieces within it, but packaged in a little homemade treasure chest nestled atop a little red cushion and Eddie maybe swooned a little that time.

His birthday always got him the good shit. A new monster manual one year, a fancy dice bag another, a cool chalice thing he'd definitely be using to drink Mt Dew out of that he later found out to be actual silver

Christmas, however, the presents didn't turn up at his locker. School was out! They turned up on his porch. Like some Santa Clause bullshit. He got paints, he got sketch books, and he got more homemade goodies like chocolates, brownies, alcohol infused homemade fudge, and cupcakes!

This goes on for years, Eddie is unable to find out who keeps doing it, who keeps leaving these presents for him, and when after surviving hell, he finally graduates without an answer he figures with a deep sadness that he'll probably never know. Until his brand new gaggle of trauma bonded friends drag him to a gods' honest sleepover at Steve’s house. Until he sneakily steals one of the tasty looking chocolates from Steve's fridge and promptly freezes as it melts on his tongue because he KNOWS that taste, he knows it by heart.

Until he corners Steve to find out where he got those chocolates only to find out from a surprisingly bright red Steve that he made them himself.

And oh. Oh.

Oh.

[00-jammy-00]

🫧 anon.

what about like. a baker yandere who owns the shop beside florist shop owner reader, yknow? like baker brings pastries to florist and he tries to be casual about it, but he gets sooo flustered because reader is just so sweet and nice and beautiful and wowowowwwww.

and they give him flowers for his shop, to be nice, but to him it’s essentially a marriage proposal……

Yan!Baker HC’s

Yan!Baker x GN! Florist! Reader

Content warning - Yandere themes, obsession, implied murder, nsfw mentions, masochist yan, possessiveness, HE MAKES YOU EAT CUM BREAD, stalking, horny yan, kind of dumb yan

A/N - I realised that I haven’t been doing enough masochist yanderes (in my opinion because I’m not insane.) so I decided to make this reader rude and cold but still somewhat friendly. If you want an alt version where the reader is kind, I will gladly write it if you send a request xoxo

——————————————————————————————————

Yan!Baker who knew it was love at first sight when he saw you angrily slam open the door to the dusty shop next door to his. That place had been empty for years so it was shocking to see someone finally buy it out.

Yan!Baker who hypes himself up in the mirror on his desk before finally marching over to give you a basket of fresh baked goods, all made by his own hand. He stumbles into the door after he decided to try and push the door that was clearly labelled “pull” before sheepishly stepping into your shop.

Yan!Baker whose heart swooned when you glared at him with those terrifying eyes. It made the hairs on his neck stand and his cock throb. You were so hot! He introduced himself shakily and gave you the basket before running off with a hard on.

Yan!Baker who made it a habit to drop by your shop every single day to deliver new pastries. He claimed to have added a special ingredient, yeah, the ingredient was pretty fucking special. It had him sitting alone upstairs jerking himself off into a bowl just to see your face scrunch up as you begrudgingly complimented the taste of the new bread he’d made.

Yan!Baker who, when he wasn’t delivering you homemade baskets, was watching you from his upstairs bedroom with a pair of binoculars held in one hand while the other was used to fist his dick. God you looked so good when you were tending to those flowers.

Yan!Baker who tripped on his own feet and slammed into his counter when you had given him a tiny pot plant for decoration. You are giving this to him? Willingly? Is this love? Do you love him? You want him, don’t you?

Yan!Baker who becomes so much more obsessive, any person who dares flirt with you is gifted to you as fertiliser asap. You’re his, you gave him that little plant to show your growing love. You knew everything, didn’t you? You knew he watched you in the shower, didn’t you? That’s why you ran your hands down your body like that. You’re so sly!

Yan!Baker who will do anything for you. He would sell his whole family business if you some much as asked. Glare at him, you look better that way. Roll your eyes and degrade him, only makes him love you more. You call him creepy? Nonsense baby, you must be thinking of someone else! He’s looking out for you. And looking at you. Always looking at you. Only you.

——————————————————————————————————

Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, requests are open <3

please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.

[bluesidez]

The Love Lab presents:

[Is It Warm?]

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!Reader

summary: A stressed-out man deserves a stress-free encounter.

content warning: another PWP but it actually has plot...I should stop calling these PWPs, an uncomfortable scene at the beginning that involves a form of harassment, 18+ so MDNI, body worship (m receiving), thorough body massages, freeform? pegging, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), cum as lube, creampie

word count: 4.6k, halfway proofread

a/n: This is partially a birthday gift to myself and partially a part of the array of fics I wanted to get out before October was over for like...an all-month birthday celebration? School is getting in my way and October is over today, so.....that plan is soiled. But still! Enjoy this!

Here’s the Part 1 of this story! It’s not necessary to read, but it’ll add a bit of context.

“Did you find it yet?”

“No, it’s still the same thing.”

You pout as Miguel digs further into bottom shelf, baskets rattling against him.

One of the stores you frequented was selling a new round of character-themed merchandise and, of course, they were quick to sell out.

This time around, Nueva York’s one and only Spider-Man’s suit would be worn by the different characters adorning the jars, cups, and blankets.

Nueva York’s one and only Spider-Man was also on all fours searching for the basket that your friend hid those multiple things in.

You had work in the morning, so you couldn’t camp outside and grab it as soon as the doors opened. You didn’t want to bother Miguel with something so small either.

However, he picked you up from work as a surprise with a bouquet of roses in one hand which led to the current predicament.

He saw how low the shelf was and didn’t want anyone to look under your skirt, so now you’re stuck staring at his ass filling out his jeans.

“Any warmer?” you ask.

“Maybe?” he mumbled, arch in his back deepening.

You fought the urge to rub your leg along the curve lest he bang his head and knock the entire shelf down. Instead, you folded your arms under your chest and shifted in your heels.

Since you ever so delicately brought him to new horizons, he’s been extra sensitive about your hands fondling that entire zone. He hasn’t really asked you to do it again.

It’s ok. He’s an extremely busy man and the last time, he was conked out and in a daze for a while.

Still, you were obsessed with how he looked from behind.

He starts to back up, pulling a woven basket out from behind the others. He places it on the ground. Once it’s opened, it’s as if the colorful world of cute, lovingly drawn characters was brought to you.

You clap your hands in excitement as Miguel stands up and places the basket in the small cart you’ve been pushing.

“The things I do for my girlfriend,” Miguel sighs as he dusts off his knees.

You wait until he stands straight and pull your arms around his neck to plead for a kiss. He pecks them twice and rubs your waist.

“Thank you, boyfriend,” you whisper with a smile.

Miguel purses his lips and nods, bashful.

You turn and drag the cart down the aisle, Miguel following behind with his warm hand nearly folded over your hips. You hum and comment about the things that you see, turning to look at him with big eyes when you really wanted something.

He’d give the occasional “You don’t need that,” but then there were the silent head-tilts when you described the use of a product so energetically.

“But baby, we could cuddle under this when we watch our shows! And these,” you pointed to some snail mucin you found, “we have to have this for our spa days.”

“That’s,” Miguel folded his arms, “correct. We need to keep our skin clear. And we need to keep warm.”

Errand days always turned to you to Miguel pulling items down and convincing you to get things that you didn’t need but absolutely wanted.

“What about this?” Miguel takes a bra from the rack, head turned toward the piece but eyes looking over at you.

“It’s cute, but I think I could find a cuter one somewhere else.”

“You’re right. I’ll just rip it off.”

“On second thought, add it to the cart.”

It’s about an hour before you both make it to the line for the register.

You’re trying not to add to the “annoying couple” demographic, but Miguel’s arms are holding onto the cart, enveloping you against his chest. You turn and look up at him and smile, giddy that he joined you on this errand run.

He kisses your head and hums along to the song playing through the store speakers. You lay on his chest and read along the products on the shelves next to you.

A man peeks at you over the shelf, eyes cutting into you before he smirks and walks away.

You shudder like you’re cold and make a disgusted sound before you turn your head.

“What’s wrong?” Miguel asks, guiding you and the cart further in line.

“Creepy guy,” you mumble into his chest.

Miguel frowns and turns, squinting around the store. He was definitely hiding now.

“I’ll handle it,” Miguel grunts.

You stay silent, knowing that once he’s set to do something, he won’t change his mind.

One day he quietly asked you “What use would having a boyfriend with superhuman powers be if I don’t use them to protect you?”

You’ve long stopped telling him to ignore things like this.

Another inch further in line and it’s almost time to pay. The guy lingers again by the entrance of the store. You lean your weight on Miguel, feet tired of your heels and anxious of how the next few minutes could play out.

Trying to understand his motive was nearly impossible: you were clearly with someone else with a large physique, clinging to him like a lifeline. That should have been a huge hint.

When it’s time to place your items on the counter, Miguel shifts his body so you don’t see the stranger. The two of you work chat to the cashier, joking about the many things you’ve bought.

With swift movements, Miguel pays for your items and carries your bag before you can even think to pay. He turns and waits for you to lock your arms through his, a habit grown from his need to be near you.

The entrance was empty, other people scattered throughout the store.

Maybe it was just a strange incident.

“Excuse me, miss. Would you mind helping me with something?” the guy asks behind you just when you think you’re in the clear.

“She’s good,” Miguel tells him, face stern.

“What, so she can’t answer for herself?”

You ball a fist up around the back of Miguel’s shirt, steadying yourself, “I can answer for myself, but we’re in a bit of a hurry. So, if you don’t mind, we’ll be out of-“

“I-It’s just that my daughter’s birthday is coming up,” the man holds his hands up frantically. “I have no clue what 10-year-olds like nowadays. I was wondering if you could help me choose something.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. This guy could be lying completely, but the thought of a little girl out there smiling as she ripped the paper off a present tugged at you.

Looking at Miguel, you could tell he was on the same wavelength.

“There is one thing that’s all the craze,” you say.

Back in the store, you were sifting through the aisles again with your attentive boyfriend not too far behind. He was carrying all of your bags in his hands and on his shoulders so you could really make an honest effort to help.

Ten was that turning point where you either really loved imaginary toys or wanted nothing to do with then, perhaps a mix of both.

“She used to love these when she was younger,” the man pulls out a baby doll from the lower shelf.

There’s been about five things he’s mentioned all of which were geared towards a younger audience. He was so insistent that it made you wonder of he’s even talked with his daughter in the past five years.

“I’m not sure she would like this one. What about that?” you point to a popular plushie. It’s not the baby doll, but you’re sure his daughter would love it.

“Oh I don’t know…”

This back-and-forth continues for longer than you want it to. You could have been wrapped around your boyfriend like a koala while he talked about his day and instead you were stuck here.

“Sir, we really have to go,” Miguel intervenes, “I’m sure whatever you get your daughter, she’ll love it.”

The older man sneers, “You wouldn’t know a thing about that.”

“Excuse me?” your face changes, disturbed.

“Such a beautiful thing on his arm and no ring, no child. He’s slacking up,” he slides a hand down your arm. “My daughter could use someone like you-“

Miguel snatches his hand up from your arm, eyes almost glowing under the bright lights of the store.

“Are you insane?”

“Let go of me!”

The man tries to fight against Miguel but falls short as he keeps his cool. He’s only released when his body flashes in an array of blue and pink squares, knees hitting the ground.

Faster than you can comprehend what’s going on, Miguel drags him out of the door. You follow afterwards, apologetic to the confused employees.

“Do you just like to touch women for fun or is it exclusive to people that try to help you?” you can hear Miguel bark at him.

“I’ll have you reported to the authorities!”

“Yeah, yeah. Try and call the rent-a-cops,” Miguel’s lip never unfurled. He whipped out a phone. “Lyla?”

In a series of events, you watched the man go from Miguel’s grip to the stringy webs of Spider Scarlet.

“I see that this fellow is giving you trouble and sorrow,” Ben’s stunted tone crowded the stranger’s cries. “I’ll remove him quickly, no, swiftly. So that you both can have a wonderful night. Together.”

You can almost see the tension build in Miguel’s temple.

“Thank you. It’s much appreciated,” Miguel grunts. “I would like to move on with my night, please.”

“Of course, Bo- I mean hard-working citizen.”

He grabs the glitching stranger to swing back to HQ, a quiet wave to you before he left.

You laugh, feeling Miguel’s shoulders fall a bit.

“You ok, baby?” he takes your hands in his, bags lining his arms,

You nod your head, “I’ve had worst things happen. Could use some comfort, though.”

He gives a sympathetic smile and rubs a thumb across your cheek.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Small, pesky incidents like this kept popping up.

An occurrence of a clown that stood in the gray parks holding a single balloon but doing nothing else, women with pixie cuts complaining about the prices of clothes, balding men with beer bellies and baseball caps: all of these people from different eras were spread across Nueva York.

While you’ve been going into work, keeping your schedule relatively normal, Miguel has been in and out.

It wasn’t a rare sight to come home to his empty penthouse, only the city lights and a talkative Lyla to keep you company.

Sometimes, you were woken up by his arms sliding around your middle and a kiss to the back of your neck, but by the time you woke up, he was gone again.

The life of a superhero’s girlfriend was a bit isolating, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Especially not the shocked look on Miguel’s face as he enters the living room one evening.

“What’s all this?” he asks, looking at the dimly lit lights and taking in the smell of something sweet in the air.

Music is playing from the speakers and Miguel is noticing how smooth the skin of your legs look from in between your silk gown. Taking advantage of his focus, you bend and remove the cloth from the table behind you.

“Ta-da!”

You stand there with your hands out, shaking them. It takes a lot to not jump like a star in excitement.

Miguel looks from you to the table.

“What is it?”

“What does it look like?”

“I meant, what is it for, honey.”

You lean on the massage table with your hip and hold your fingers up to count off, “Well, it’s for you. To relax. To unwind. To let me try out the skills I learned from that class my coworker gifted to me.”

Within the pause, you twirl four fingers in the air.

Miguel sits near the back on the couch with an exhausted look on his face, “Baby, thank you for the gesture, but I don’t know if-”

“Please! I think you’ll really, really love it. I can massage you right now while you’re not super busy,” you say as Miguel stands again. You bounce over in front of him, puppy-dog eyes on full display. “I only rented it for a few days!”

He looked to the ceiling and sighed, weak to the look on your face.

“Fine.”

“Where is your robe at?” a freshly showered Miguel asks with an eyebrow raised. He still pans up and down your body, like he hasn’t explored it a million times over.

A few steps forward and his gaze is stuck on the way your sheer and short gown molds around your body.

There’s nothing underneath but your perfumed skin.

“That’s the perk of having your girlfriend give you a massage,” you say watching him stare at your chest. You take his chin in your hand and guide his face back to your eyes. “Right?”

“Mm hm.”

You snort and tell him to lay down

“Take your towel off, silly.”

Miguel obeys, white fabric pulled from under him with a blink of an eye. He lays it just above his behind.

“This is going to feel so good. I just know it,” you say, giving his back a light rub.

“Thank you in advance,” Miguel replies. He’s lying with his head on his arms, stress from work evident.

You’re really glad he’s letting you help him indulge in this break.

Grabbing the oil from the end table you pulled over, you pour some right on his back, fingers spreading along the pivots of his neck. You. stand in front of the head of the table and press your thumbs into his nape, earning a stunted noise from him.

A smile grows on your face, “I haven’t even really started, Miguel.” Your thumbs start to circle and he turns his face into the open hole.

“Stiff there. Too many screens to watch,” he says. “It smells good.”

“Give those pretty eyes a rest then,” you tut, adding your other fingers to the ones along his neck in an upwards motion.

Shea butter never fails you.

His neck slowly heats up and you giggle to yourself. One compliment and he turned into mush.

“What about here, hm?” shifting down to the tops of his shoulders. The muscles there pulled as tight as a rope. Adding pressure to them makes Miguel groan.

“’S good.”

“I bet,” you work into a knot, warm hands pushing into his skin. “There’s no telling how long this has been here.”

Miguel silently notes that maybe he should wind himself up more if he could end up like this again: pampered by his pretty girlfriend.

As quiet as he kept his running thoughts, his throat involuntary gave you real-time reviews.

Every slide of your knuckles nearly had him purring and your fingertips warmed him through to his bones.

His shoulders feel like air once you’re moving down his spine.

“I’m going to do something different,” your voice is lower so as to not disturb the atmosphere.

You hike one of your knees up on the edge of the table and climb over him, hovering as you asses his back.

Two hands cover his waist with thumbs almost touching each other on his spine. You let go of some of your weight and press your thumbs up his back.

Miguel’s voice vibrates through the room, an arch in his spine forming.

You repeat the action, earning an even louder response.

Moving to stroking in outwards motions from his spine to the sides, you wanted to pat yourself on the back. Miguel was so relaxed under you.

Though, you wanted to smack yourself for getting excited so early, the effect of his sounds making itself evident with how cold the air felt on your exposed lower half.

Switching to move your hands down his arms to hefty muscle of his shoulder blades, you hoped to distract yourself.

“Se siente tan bien,” Miguel sighed, airy and relieved. “I’ve been climbing a lot more this past week.” (That feels so good.)

The praise went straight to your clit.

“I’m glad, Miggy. I’ll work out some more tightness in your back and move down to your legs. Sound good?” you were trying your best to control your tone.

Miguel starts to answer but a stunted sound comes from his lips instead as you start to knead his back in small places.

Back and forth, you move across his skin, heart thumping in your chest.

By the time you got to his lower back, you awkwardly sat on the towel separating the two of you. You were sure it was dampening, but you hoped Miguel was too far gone to notice.

Your thumbs circle in the dips of his skin, his hips lifting up, making you brace yourself.

“Babe, you’re going to push me off,” you say as Miguel tries to glue his waist to your fingers.

“S-sorry,” hips stutter against the table before he lays down completely.

You pat his side as a form of forgiveness and inch off of the table. The towel over his ass was wrinkled, brown skin peeking from under it.

You grab more oil to start on the back of his thighs, a place that you know could carry his tension. With both of your hands focusing on his right thigh, you add pressure to your palms.

Miguel immediately jerked, grunting through his teeth.

“Woah, there,” you rub his leg softly. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“What’s wrong?”

He’s softly pushing out air as you continue back.

“It’s embarrassing. And rude,” he mumbles after a while.

You move down to his calf, his voice rising as you envelop his skin.

“What is?”

He huffs, turning his head, “I’m hard.”

Switching legs, you try not to show your giddiness.

“Nothing wrong with that. I think it’s a normal reaction.”

“Is it?” he shifts again when you massage the inside of his thigh, so close to the problem area. “The last time I got massaged was before…everything. It was never like this.”

You try to envision a younger, scrawny Miguel laid out on the table before you and giggle.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not,” you say in between a quiet grin.

Miguel lifts his head a bit, “I can hear you smiling, amor.”

“Ok, how about this,” you remove the towel and softly cover his behind with your hands. “Can I massage here?”

Miguel looks back at you, eyes darker under these lights.

“Isn’t this a full-body massage?”

You bite your cheek to try and stop your face from lighting up, but it fails.

“Then, continue to relax, Mr. Spider-Man.”

“I prefer Mr. Boyfriend, actually.”

Humming, you push into the plushest parts of him, repeating the motion circle after circle.

You try to ignore his hole peering out every time you knead.

Miguel is breathing deeply, back rising and falling.

Looking down, you can tell that his earlier words were true. Poor thing was barely rutting against the table.

You slide a thumb on his taint, marveling at how he lets out a sharp gasp. The feeling makes him grind harder into the soft material.

“Please,” he whispers.

“Please, what, Mr. Boyfriend? Anything I can do to make your experience better?”

“I want,” you brush your finger over his hole and he groans. “Want more.”

You stop and grab the lone tile, wiping the oil from your hands.

Walking near his face, you lean down and kiss his ear, the skin heated, “This requires more facilities. One momento!”

Luckily for him, the dildo from the last time was already clean.

Coincidentally.

You grab it and some lube from the bedroom and rush back to Miguel who is sprawled out on the table.

“Sorry for the wait,” you say. “Let’s start back.”

With lube on your fingers, you rub a thumb over his hole, pressing until you breach past.

Miguel sighs, “Shock. I missed this.”

That surprises you, “Really?”

“Yes,” he moaned as you reach in further. “You make me feel good. I just didn’t have the time to enjoy it.”

Your heart soars, switching from your thumb to two fingers. The way his hips rise shows a beautiful line in his silhouette. When tell him such, he shudders.

“You always compliment me on the things I couldn’t care less for.”

“There’s beauty in all of you though, Miguel,” your words contrast how you’re digging into him, adding another finger and brushing past the ball of fire.

Miguel tightens his fists, pushing back against your hand, “Put it in me.”

“Do you like it when I praise you?” you ask, ignoring his request.

“You already know the answer. Por favor, bebé.”

He was getting whiny and you remembered that this whole endeavor was supposed to be for him, about him.

You climbed back over him, a palm pressed into his back, “I know, I know. I got you.”

“So needy,” you say as you lube up the pink plastic.

Miguel gears up to respond but you shush him when you glide the tip in.

Your name is on his lips, singing along with the melody of the instrumental playing in the background.

You pull your gown up a little, fur on the trim riding up your skin. You moan with him as you let the dildo go deeper.

From here, you can see the glow of his back, glistening under the candlelight from the oil that drives him crazy on you. The nape of his neck is starting to shine with sweat and his fingers are pressing into his palm so as to not puncture the table.

Continuing your movement, you move your wrist continuously, pushing into him and cupping your breasts to stop them from moving.

You’re drenched and when you slide your heat over his cheeks, the end of the dildo feels amazing against your clit. You hold the end of it close and move your hips along every thrust.

“Keep going,” Miguel says, reveling in the way you were getting off on top of him. “Don’t stop.”

Your hips move faster, hand on your chest moving to his back, nails digging into his skin. Your body leans over him, skin-to-skin separated by your thin gown.

No words can be formed as you listen to Miguel let out satisfied grunts, the sound of him covering and uncovering the dildo aligning with him.

You angle it so that it can slide along your folds before it enters him, keening into his skin every time.

“I love you so much, Miggy,” your nails scratch against him, your body tensing like he was the one pinning you into the table.

Miguel jerks, panting out, “Love you, too. Te amo mucho, ángel.”

You continue, Miguel’s words blending from begs for more to confessions of love.

When he reveals that he’s close, arching into you, you suck a kiss into his back, working your dildo past his prostate.

He groans, cum spreading under him. You pepper kisses across his back.

“Hm,” you got up and switch the dildo for a plug, squeezing a cheek for good luck. “I didn’t finish the massage.”

Miguel turns his body around, careful not to knock you off.

“You’re always up to something.”

He smiled, looking at your ruined gown, oil making it cling to you. He’s still hard, cum smeared across his lower abdomen.

You bring your face to his, kissing his lips while his hands slide up your hips.

“I’m just a little crazy when it comes to you,” you reply, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

Miguel moves his chin up, a hand coming to cover your neck.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You smiled into his lips, rubbing your nose against his. He laughed at the gesture and rubbed down your back.

“Shall I continue, Mr. Boyfriend?”

“I’m at your command, Ms. Girlfriend.”

You lean up and slowly pull your gown off of you. Miguel watches you, not missing a single moment.

“While I did have ideas of exactly how this massage was going to go,” you reach back and scoop up the milky liquid on his stomach. You take him in your hand and pump once, twice. “I think I’ll end it with a bang.”

When his tip goes past your entrance, his eyes roll back and his hands grab your hips instinctively.

Your head dips past your shoulders as you sit further, the feeling of him familiar but still overwhelming.

Your hips stutter as you try not to let the greedy feeling of chasing your orgasm come back so quickly. To fight it, you place your hands on his pecs.

“Usually, the chest massage is done in the opposite direction,” Miguel hikes his hips up as you try to get back into masseur mode, earning a high moan from you. “B-but you get special privileges today.”

You focus on applying pressure to his collar bones, working over a fading love mark.

Miguel isn’t having it as he holds your hips and snaps up.

“I think I have a more severe problem area,” he says as you push the skin of his chest towards his armpits. He wasn’t even tense there.

“And I’ll get to it-“

“You don’t understand,” Miguel says, locking his arms around you. “It’s serious.”

He thrusts up, delving into you like he was always meant to do so. You grip his shoulders and hold on, mind hazy at the shift.

“The prettiest masseuse in the world,” he breathes out. His eyebrows are scrunching up, ever so expressive. “My private one.”

“Yes,” you sigh, close from before. You’re turning into putty in his arms.

Arousal builds as he continues to work into you. Your mouth parts, unsure as to what was coming from your mouth.

“C’mon, baby. I know you’re there,” Miguel moves one hand to grip your shoulder. “‘M ready to pay you.”

You convulse around him, core swimming with his words.

He follows right after, hips attaching to you as he fills you up. The table creaks as he pumps a few more times into your lifted body.

When you both come down, your muscles feel like they’ve been reconstructed. Miguel lifts you off of his length, keeping you in the air for a bit just to watch him drip out of you.

“That’s a pretty steep payment,” you say once you’re lying on his chest.

Miguel snickers, “I’ll help you manage it later.”

“But before that,” you wave a hand in the air making a holographic screen with blue squares appear before you both. “Leave a tip?”

Miguel wipes it away as you cackle.

“You’ve ruined me for all future massages in a normal setting and you want a tip?”

“I’m just kidding,” you kiss his pout away.

“Besides,” you reach down and graze your fingers over him. “This tip is pretty good.”

“Only ‘pretty good’? Do you need another one?”

You put your eyes to the sky, thinking, “Let’s eat dinner and get away from the nearly ruined, rented table first.”

Miguel smiles softly, “Good idea.”

dividers by: @/adornedwithlight @/inklore

a/n: I think I would like to consider this story, Is It Tight?, and Wash Day all in the same universe.

Sorry to the people in my taglist who don’t really rock with pegging. It probably won’t happen again. 😭

taglist: @questionable-behaviour @babygotl01292003 @slushycoookie @calig0sto @ghost-lantern

@tatatida @haveclayeveryday @corpsenightmarebride @samjinxx @earth2fae

@maiyart @feegrh32 @darkstalight82 @ladysimp @vmpz8sauceee

@leonsbimbogf @unwrittenletter @madeofstar-dust @leoeloo @just-simpins-blog

@poisamm @thequeenreaders @tinybirdhideout @aly29a2001 @mimi-sanisanidiot

@tojishugetiddies @pigeonmama @av3da @prettygirleli @koikohib

@jaykookies @snails-doodles22 @xo-zeze @plantxella @thedevax

@f1-hoff @stressed-cherry @mozzella @appledressing @abbbbbysvt-17

@woahhajime @vicravluv @xodeity @somniasworld @obsessgurlll

@starboygf @undf-stuff @bmoplanet @alexxavicry @ladysimp

[hannieehaee]

How would loser jk react to the oc giving him a boo/spooky basket? (A gift basket given in fall/halloween time with whatever the person likes with just more fall/halloween themed items if you didnt know!) This thought wouldn’t leave my head for some reason while i was reading the latest loser jk 😭

content: loser!jk, halloween stuff, some insecurities from jk, pure fluff, mentions of making out etc.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, (extra)

wc: 600

a/n: this was just a short little halloween themed drabble for my loser!jk couple. thank u for requesting and i hope u enjoyed!!

masterlist

"this is for me?"

your nod was far too giddy and excited. the poor boy was already in shock at your sudden gift, staring at you with those gigantic eyes as he looked at the basket you'd laid on his lap.

a shy smile took over his lips, bunny teeth biting onto the plush of his bottom lip to conceal a smile.

"i- what's the occasion?"

"it's halloween, bunny! it's a boo basket for my boyfriend!", you said happily, pressing a quick peck to his cheek.

he could no longer conceal his smile, you knew this. it was the word boyfriend. he always had a viscerally adorable reaction when you called him the b word.

and he looked specially adorable in his vampire costume.

well, maybe adorable wasn't the right word. but your nerdy little boyfriend looking hot was not a can of worms you wanted to open — because if you found him hot, that meant other girls would too, and that was a huge no-no (though maybe you should get that possessiveness checked).

for now, you appreciated the pretty boy sitting in front of you as he looked through the basket, eyes lighting up like a kid on christmas morning. his little 'oooh's and 'ah's as he went through the assortment of halloween themed gifts made your heart warm.

then suddenly he halted.

"what's wrong, baby?"

"i- i didnt get you anything," he pouted up at you, genuine worry in his eyes.

"that's okay, bunny-"

"no, god, i'm such a bad boyfriend. you're so nice to me and i- fuck, i'm sorry. i didn't realize halloween was a couples' holiday. ive never had a girlfriend before. i had no idea," he rambled on, looking genuinely remorseful at his lack of gift.

you couldn't help but pout at the poor boy. he worried too easily. it was adorable, but it also made your heart hurt a bit. the poor thing felt like he had to apologize over such a needless issue.

your only solution was to shut him up by sitting on his lap, moving the basket to the side before gifting him all your attention.

"c'mon, baby, you know i don't care about that. plus, i made this basket for the two of us. we have a cute lil matching costume," you gestured to your matching vampire outfits, "and now we have spooky snacks and fuzzy pumpkin socks so we can watch scary movies together. see? no harm, no foul," you traced at his cheek, biting your lip at the way in which he continued to get flustered at the attention despite it not being new in your relationship.

"okay," he sighed, "thank you for the gift," he repeated before giving you an innocent peck on your lips.

god. he was the cutest thing.

you got up from his lap then, taking note of the tiny frown on his face upon the newfound distance between you. extending your hand, you got him to stand up beside you. your hands went to pat at any wrinkles you'd left on his outfit by sitting on him, unable to help yourself in casual touches.

"now, come on. we have a halloween party to hit and some trick or treating to do. we can come back home and make out after that. i wanna smudge that lipstick," you grinned at him, booping at his nose as you eyed what would soon be a mess of red on his lips.

he nodded happily as he took your hand and allowed you to lead him out of the apartment, spooky basket in his other hand.

[rinkkuma]

୨୧ VALENTINE'S DAY WITH BLUE LOCK BOYS

ft. isagi yoichi, reo mikage, rin itoshi, nagi seishiro, & chigiri hyoma

tags. highschool au, established relationships, gn!reader, a bit of cussing, all fluff ! / author's note. just some cheesy highschool romance! sorry they're a little short, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless ^_^

ISAGI plans a date after school, and he cannot stop thinking about it throughout the whole school day. from when school starts to the final release bell. jumping for joy when it finally rings. he immediately sprints to your class to come pick you up, and the two of you begin walking to your destination. he takes you on a date to a nearby café that had a valentine's event going on. the café is decked out in an obscene amount of pink and red decorations that would've made your head hurt if there were more. of course, he lets you order whatever you like and pays for it. (he also feeds you whatever you ordered with a big grin on his face) afterwards, he surprises you with a flower bouquet and whatever you've been ranting about wanting for the past few months. an absolute sweetheart!

REO puts his gift into a large box. why? it's too large to the point where you can't fit it into your locker, so it forces you to carry it around all day so that everyone will know you're his. writes “from: reo” in big letters on all sides of the box so people can see from every angle. yeah, reo has been planning this for the past few months. honestly, the box is so big to the point that it's a little embarrassing to bring it into your classes, and some of your teachers question you. he makes it up to you because of how amazing his gift was. a bouquet with your favorite flowers, a stuffed animal, a gorgeous and one-of-a kind necklace, and a photo book with memories from the very beginning of your relationship. spoils you with lots of kisses all over your face as well.

RIN shyly buys one of those valentine's day candy grams that a club is selling. and no, it is absolutely not because he's scared to give it to you directly. just kidding, he is. this was the first time he was actually giving something to someone for valentine's day and he did not want to mess it up, so to be safe he decided to buy one and have the club deliver it. after you receive it though, he immediately runs to your class, asking if you liked it. he mumbles an apology for not giving it to you face to face, but you pull him into a kiss to reassure him that it was more than okay.

NAGI conveniently has first period with you, so he takes this to his full advantage. arrives to school earlier than you and puts his plan into action. bangs politely knocks on the classroom door before the teacher hesitantly lets him in 2 minutes later, and puts a shit ton of things on your desk. places a stuffed animal on your seat, a basket with your favorite snacks (with the addition of a few valentine's themed candies), and a heartfelt (and surprisingly neat) letter. nagi patiently waits for you to walk in. staring at the door and being disappointed when someone walks in and it's not you. when you finally arrive though, he is holding back a smile and looks away nonchalantly, acting like you had not walked into class. you make your way to your desk, already seeing the various gifts on your desk before placing your gift for nagi on his desk. he finally lets the breath out that he didn't know he was holding, and gives you a bear hug. (you almost sit on the plushie on your seat because of how small it was)

CHIGIRI dramatically sighs when you greet him in the morning with a smile on your face and a gift bag in your hand. why did he sigh dramatically, you ask? in your mind, you thought it was obvious that you two would be each other's valentine since you are dating, so you never formally asked him. yes, chigiri could've easily taken things into his own hands and asked you, but he chickened out every time he was going to ask you. yes, he could've just texted you, but he believed that was the wimpy way out. you give him a puzzled look as you hand him your gift, asking him what was up. he looks down as he mumbles, “youdidn'taskmetobeyourvalentine..” as he rubs the back of his neck. you laugh before you give him a smile and say, “chigiri, we've been together for a while. i thought it was a given that we were each other's valentine.”

inspired by this prompt list <3

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

A Basket Full of Fall

Word count: 1.2k

Pairing: Toto Wolff x wife!reader, ft. jack

Summary: Toto and Jack surprise Y/n with an extravagant boo basket filled with autumnal treats and heartfelt touches

______________________________________________________________

Y/n sat comfortably on the couch, a throw blanket draped over her legs as the soft light of the autumn sun filtered through the windows. Her tea was still warm in her hands, and she was scrolling absentmindedly through her phone, reminiscing about the boo baskets she had fallen in love with last year. It had become something of a joke between her and Toto—how she had shown him TikTok after TikTok of couples exchanging adorable, cozy, fall-themed gift baskets.

She had teased Toto at the time, jokingly asking, "So, where’s my boo basket, hmm?" He had just smirked, pulling her close, and promised that maybe one day she’d get a surprise. But Y/n knew her husband wasn’t the type to jump on trendy gift ideas, so she hadn’t pushed it further. Little did she know, Toto had remembered every detail she mentioned.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Toto and Jack were busy at work, their task much bigger than the average boo basket. What started as a simple idea had spiraled into something much grander. The giant basket they’d chosen was practically overflowing, and Jack was already planning what to tell Y/n once she saw it.

“Papa, what about these fluffy socks? Should we put them in the front?” Jack asked, holding up a pair of soft orange socks with little pumpkin faces embroidered on them.

Toto crouched down, examining the basket. “I think that’s a good idea, Jack. She’ll see them right away.”

Carefully, Jack placed the socks right on top, making sure they peeked out over the rest of the items. The basket was already brimming with a mix of cozy fall essentials and thoughtful gifts. There was a cinnamon-scented candle in a beautiful glass jar, a soft knitted blanket in a warm rust color, and a variety of pumpkin spice-flavored snacks—everything from chocolates to cookies.

Toto had also picked up some more personal items for Y/n. He knew how much she loved curling up with a good book on chilly afternoons, so he added a new novel from one of her favorite authors. There was also a set of bath bombs scented with lavender and chamomile, perfect for the relaxing baths he knew she adored after long days.

“Do you think we have enough chocolate in here, Jack?” Toto asked, eyeing the assortment of treats.

Jack giggled. “There’s never enough chocolate, Papa.”

Toto smiled and shook his head, placing another small box of chocolates into the basket. He then reached for the special pumpkin centerpiece they had bought—an intricately carved ceramic pumpkin that glowed when you placed a small candle inside. It would be the perfect touch for their living room, adding to the cozy atmosphere Y/n loved so much during the fall.

Jack tugged at his father’s sleeve. “Don’t forget the card, Papa!”

Toto smiled softly. “Of course, how could I forget?”

He pulled out a small, carefully folded card from his pocket, the cover decorated with autumn leaves and pumpkins. Inside, he had written a heartfelt note:

To my love, Y/n. Last year, you showed me all those TikToks, and I pretended not to understand why they were important. But I knew how much these little things make you happy. So this is for you—your very own boo basket, from Jack and me, to the best mama and wife we could ever ask for. I love you.

Satisfied with the card, he slipped it into the basket, tucking it beside the candle.

"All done, Jack," Toto said, standing back to admire their handiwork. The basket looked massive, filled with all the warm, comforting items that made fall so special. He was sure Y/n would be surprised—maybe even speechless.

Jack was practically vibrating with excitement. "Can we show her now, Papa?"

Toto chuckled, ruffling his son’s hair. "Yes, let’s surprise her."

Together, they carefully lifted the basket, with Toto handling most of the weight while Jack guided them through the house. As they approached the living room, Jack darted ahead, his excitement barely contained.

“Mama! Close your eyes!” Jack called out, bounding toward Y/n, who looked up from her phone with a puzzled smile.

“What are you up to?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just close them!” Jack insisted, and Y/n couldn’t help but laugh as she set her tea aside and covered her eyes with her hands.

“Alright, eyes closed!” she said, indulging him.

Toto followed quietly behind, the basket in his arms, his heart racing with anticipation. He knew Y/n would love it, but seeing her reaction was what he was most excited about.

He set the basket down in front of her and glanced at Jack. "Okay, Jack. Tell her she can open them."

Jack practically jumped. “Mama, open your eyes!”

Y/n slowly uncovered her eyes, and the moment she saw what was in front of her, she froze. Her mouth fell open in shock. There, sitting before her, was the most extravagant, oversized boo basket she had ever seen. It was almost comically large, brimming with every fall-themed item she could have imagined—and more. The beautiful autumn colors of the blankets and candles, the smell of cinnamon, and the sight of the chocolate treats filled her senses all at once.

"Toto… Jack… what is all this?" she asked, her voice soft, her hands going to her mouth in disbelief.

Jack, beaming with pride, clapped his hands. "It’s a boo basket! For you!"

Toto stood behind Jack, his eyes soft with love and a small, proud smile on his lips. "You kept showing me those TikToks last year, and I figured it was time to make one for you—our way."

Y/n's heart swelled as she took in every detail. The thoughtful gifts, the little touches that she knew had Toto’s and Jack’s fingerprints all over them. She reached for the card and read Toto's note, her eyes misting as she smiled.

“You two…” she whispered, overcome with emotion. “This is… this is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Jack jumped into her arms. "Do you like it, Mama?"

“I love it,” Y/n said, pulling Jack into a tight hug before reaching out for Toto’s hand, pulling him close as well. She wrapped her arms around both of them, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the basket itself. It was the love and care behind it—the way Toto remembered every little thing, the way Jack had helped with so much excitement.

Toto kissed her forehead softly, his hand resting on her back. "You deserve it, my love. Every bit of it."

Y/n, smiling through happy tears, looked back at the basket. “Well, I guess this officially makes you the king of boo baskets,” she teased, playfully nudging Toto.

He chuckled. “I’ll take that title.”

As they settled back onto the couch, Y/n surrounded by her new autumn treasures, Jack crawled into her lap, holding one of the stuffed pumpkins.

“I can’t believe you remembered all those TikToks,” she said, leaning against Toto as he wrapped his arm around her.

Toto smirked, his voice low and teasing. “How could I forget? You showed me at least fifty of them.”

Y/n laughed, resting her head on his shoulder. “Well, it was worth it. This is perfect.”