#like the flame from a lighter or small candle

[alex51324]

If you take the peel and squeeze it into a (small) flame it makes sparks like a tiny firework

so if your brother liked fireworks that might be good

how am i meant to show my love when i peel an orange but need a shovel to give you a slice

[d3arapril]

[reup] birthday girl | p.b

pairing: paige bueckers x f!reader word count: 4.6k warnings/tags: alcohol consumption (they're tipsy), switch!paige, oral (r!receiving), fingering (p&r!receiving), sex toys (p!receiving), spit, language, assplay (r!receiving) ᡣ𐭩 as many of u are aware i accidentally deleted my account - luckily i have managed to recover this gem! if you're thinking hm i swear i used to follow her - YOU DID! please re-join me on this journey and please re-indulge yourselves in this dirtiness for BDB PB's birthday. reblogs are appreciated more than ever given the circumstances lol ! :D love u all x

You sway slightly on your feet, the alcohol making your head feel lighter than it should as you fumble to light the candle on the heart-shaped cake. Your socks shuffle on the cool kitchen tiles, the slight friction grounding you as you flick at the lighter.

"Need help?" Azzi peeks over your shoulder to watch you flick at the lighter. When the small flame finally ignites, you both let out a victorious "Ah!"

"Nope," you pop the p, turning to smile at your friend. "I got it!"

You'd organised a small get together with close friends for Paige's birthday at her request. Not too much, she'd insisted when you'd first asked her what she wanted to do. So, of course, you made a list of those she actually liked and invited them over.

Now, you're standing behind Azzi as she leads you out of the kitchen and shuts off the lights. You hold the cake up with both hands, lips in a tight line as you focus on holding it steady. Admittedly, you'd all had a bit more to drink than originally planned. Tiktok's were filmed, drinking games were played and shots were consumed.

The girls break out into an out of tune rendition of happy birthday as soon as you enter the room, toothy grin plastered across your face when you lock eyes with Paige. She's smiling right back at you and although the room is dark you can just make out the blush on her cheeks.

She blows out the candle and her index finger swipes through the icing decorating the edge of the cake. She sucks it into her mouth, eyes still trained on yours. "Mm," she makes a noise in her throat. "Tastes good."

It's almost like slow motion, the way her mouth closes and her tongue comes out to lick at her lips. It's all you can focus on– her. You shake it off, not letting yourself get lost in the moment in front of all of your friends. You place the cake down onto the table and just like that the party continues, more drinks are poured and the night wears on.

A few hours later, most of the girls have called it a night. Now, it's just you, Paige, Azzi, Kayla and Kk remaining. You're squished between Paige and Kayla on the couch, Paige's right leg slung over yours. You're trying your best to listen to the conversation going on around you, but the mere feeling of Paige's skin on yours makes it harder to concentrate.

"You want another?" Paige’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. She gestures to the red cup loosely clutched in your hand.

You glance down at it and shake your head. "Nah, I’m good. I think I’d actually like to remember tonight," you say with a chuckle.

Paige laughs softly, her hand giving your thigh a playful squeeze. "Smart move." She turns to Kayla, nudging her gently. "What about you? Tapping out?"

Kayla glances at her phone, her eyes widening slightly as she reads the time—1:29 AM. "Wow– I didn't realise it was that late." Kayla yawns as she stands up, ruffling at Paige's hair. "It's not your birthday anymore, Bueckers."

"It's still my day, though." Paige pouts, leaning her head back to look at Kayla. Always such a big baby.

"Yeah, yeah, birthday girl," Kayla laughs, ruffling Paige’s hair before heading to the door. She glances over at Azzi, who’s now half-asleep, sprawled across Kk’s lap. "You guys heading out too?"

Azzi and Kk exchange tired glances before they, too, gather their things. After a round of group hugs, the door finally closes, leaving you and Paige alone in the now-quiet living room. You survey the aftermath; red cups litter the floor, empty bottles are stacked haphazardly on the coffee table.

“Jeez,” you mutter, shaking your head at the mess. “This’ll be fun to clean up tomorrow.”

Paige hums in agreement, her arms suddenly wrapping around your waist from behind you. She pulls you back against her, resting her chin on your shoulder. “I had a good night,” she says softly, her breath tickling your ear. “Thank you.”

"No need to thank me," you smile. "I had fun, too. Did you have a good birthday?"

"The best," her arms squeeze you a little tighter, nose nudging at your cheek. You lean back into her, hands covering her own. "Thank you baby."

"Anything for you," you smile, tilting your neck back to look at her.

"Really?" her head tilts towards you as she presses a kiss to your cheek.

"Always."

She hums, her hands sliding down to your hips, squeezing gently as she leans in closer. "Not to be greedy," there's a pause as she gives you another squeeze, lips ghosting down your neck. "But where's my gift?"

Paige grins against your neck, the curve of her lips brushing your skin. “Maybe,” she murmurs before her teeth lightly nip at the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

"You gonna give me something good?"

Her lips are against your pulse point now, sucking the sensitive skin into her mouth. A sigh escapes your lips and you reach your hands up and back, fingers tangling in her hair. Paige's hands roam your body, trailing up and down your sides before one cups at your breast.

"Paige," you moan softly, her name escaping your lips as her mouth finds yours. The kiss is slow and deep, both of you still tasting faintly of vodka and cherry, the alcohol mixing with the heat between you. Her hand cups your jaw, angling your face just right as the kiss intensifies.

She pulls away first, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips. Her breathing is ragged, voice low as she pants, "Bedroom."

Your fingers interlock with hers, feet padding softly against the floor as she leads you down the hallway. Her thumb rubs soft circles into the back of your hand and it's a subtle reminder of how much she loves you.

Paige stops outside of her bedroom door and pauses. Her eyes are soft and there's a smile gracing her lips. "What?" you smile back, free hand reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Nothing, just." her hand lifts and squeezes your wrist. "I really love you, s'all."

You roll your eyes, playfully. "You're such a sap,"

"You gonna let this sap eat your pussy, orrrr..?" she smirks as she drags out the word, opening the door to her room and pulling you in. She pushes it shut behind you, tipsy fingers fumbling with the lock.

The room is surprisingly bright, the main light still on from when Paige must've last been in there. "You left the light on," you say monotonously which earns you an eye roll from Paige. She doesn't respond, just flicks her head towards the bed as an instruction for you to get over there.

"Someone's eager." you grin, walking backwards until the back of your legs hit her bed.

"Mhm," Paige hums, stepping closer to you. She pauses for a moment, as though she's figuring out her next move. "Turn over."

Your knees are weak as you flip yourself over, resting on your hands and knees. She wastes no time, making quick work of pulling your leggings and panties down your thighs. She lets out a moan at the sight of you, exposed and waiting.

"Damn," she mumbles under her breath, hand running along the curve of your ass cheek, giving it a squeeze. "Now this is a birthday cake."

Your head drops between your shoulders, laughter shaking your frame. "Wow, P. That's corny."

"Shut up," she's giggling, too, but there's a tone of authority in her voice. The sound of her kneeling behind you is audible and the feeling of her presence looming over you is enough to keep you quiet.

Her hands grip at your ass again and squeeze, nails digging into the soft skin. Your fingers curl into the sheets, a gasp leaving your lips. A stray finger traces a pattern across the dimples in your lower back, lower, lower until it brushes over the puckered hole you're both yet to try. Yeah, she's pressed her thumb against it more times than she'd like to admit but she's never 'breached the surface' as she'd say.

"You gonna let me have here?" she leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to the base of your spine. "It is my birthday, after all."

You hesitate, hand letting go of the sheets to reach back for her. "What about you?"

Paige squeezes at your forearm, "I'll get mine, don't worry."

She moves your arm back down beside you, hands coming to rest on either side of your ass. She pulls your cheeks apart, breath warm against you. "Can I?"

You moan out a yes, dropping your forehead against the mattress. Paige wastes no time, head dipping down and licking a fat stripe up your pussy, tongue sliding between your folds. She's sloppy, spit mixing with the slick that now coats her chin. She's moaning into you and you wish you could see how this looked from the outside.

You're shaking in front of her, fingers twisting and tugging at the sheets. She pulls away for a second, gathers the mixture of her spit and your juices in her mouth and spits it back onto you. She rubs it in with her thumb, digit ghosting over the ring of muscle.

"Fuck, Paige," you groan, shaking hand blindly reaching back to pull her closer, push her away- you weren't even sure at this point.

The girl hums, thumb stilling. "You want me to put it in?

You nod, cheek flat against the mattress.

"Speak to me."

"Please, please." you beg.

"Please what?"

"Fuck," you groan, inhibitions leaving your body. "Do anything, please. Eat my pussy–my ass, please, please–" You're so desperate you can barely even recognise your own voice.

"Relax baby," Paige coos, leaning down to press a kiss to your ass cheek. "I got you."

You feel her pull away and you're about to protest, kick your feet out at her and cuss her out until you feel her shuffling around on the bed behind you. You use the little strength you have remaining to push your head off of the bed and you see her lying on her back, half of her body hanging off of the bed. Damp fingers squeeze at your ass, dragging you back just enough so your pussy is directly over her mouth.

She's back at it like she never left, sucking your clit into her mouth and massaging her tongue over it. Her thumb finds home against your ass again, pressing against your hole as her tongue teases over your folds. The pressure is immense, the tip of her thumb slipping past the tight ring of muscle and you choke on air. You're not sure if it's a good or bad thing that you can't breathe, everything in you constricting, heart hammering against your chest.

You press against the mattress and hold yourself up, now fully kneeling over Paige. You brush the blonde strands from her face, your girlfriend's eyes fluttering open to lock onto yours. As soon as you make eye contact you hear feel her moan into your pussy, thumb sliding an inch deeper.

Your hips grind against her at their own accord, fingers now knotted in Paige's hair as you moan out into the cool air of her room. Your stomach tenses, thighs working overtime to hold you up. The chord in your stomach grows tighter and you open your mouth to warn Paige that you're about to cum but your words get lost in the mess of moans and pants and incoherent syllables.

It washes over you like a tidal wave, orgasm rattling your entire body. Paige moans into you the entire time, tongue messily sliding over your pussy as she laps you up. Her thumb leaves your ass with a pop and she presses her head back into the mattress just enough to be able to breathe out a "You good?"

Shaking legs shuffle you down her body until you're sat on her stomach, grimacing at the stickiness between your thighs. Paige can't help the laugh that leaves her, hands rubbing up the fronts of your thighs as she takes you in.

"You look fucked."

"Well," you pinch at her side, "You fucked me good, birthday girl."

She wiggles her eyebrows at that, hands leaving your thighs to grip at your ass cheeks. She squeezes, tongue licking around her lips. Her lids flutter shut as she tastes the remnants of you against her, lashes fluttering against her cheek.

You watch her silently from above, fingers trailing across her chest. Her shirt sticks to her skin slightly, sweat beading across her body. "Want this off?"

She nods, eyes opening. "Please."

You clamber off her and watch as she pulls the shirt over her head, throwing it into a random corner of her room. Her sports bra follows and she mindlessly rubs her hands over her chest, grateful she's no longer constricted by the material.

"So," you start, pushing her back by her shoulder and ghosting your lips across her nipple. She's flat against the bed again and you're perched beside her, ass up and feet kicking out as your tongue peeks out to lick at the sensitive nub. "How do you plan on 'getting yours'?"

You recite the words she'd said to you earlier and she snickers, back arching slightly when you suck her nipple into your mouth. "I got something-" she sucks in a breath when your teeth bite into the swell of her breast, pink mark left in their wake. "Something in the drawer."

Your eyebrows perk up at that, leaving one last kiss against her tit as you climb off the bed and saunter towards her bedside drawer. You pull open the rickety drawer and there's a purple wand staring right back at you.

You turn back to look at her, watching as she shuffles up the bed, head now resting on the pillows. "How long have you had this?"

Paige shrugs, a smug look on her face. "Got it a couple days ago. A gift from me, to me."

You fish it out of the drawer and inspect it, it's fairly heavy- three heart shaped buttons on the purple rubber handle. "Have you used it?"

"Nah," she taps her fingers against her stomach, nonchalant. "Wanted to use it with you."

You let out a hum of approval, turning back to face her. She's propped herself up on her elbows, legs bent at the knee and open. Her thighs are spread wide, fabric of her navy shorts stretching across the expanse of the muscle.

You sit at the end of the bed, turning the toy on and letting it vibrate against the palm of your hand. "It's intense," you muse, not able to mask the smile growing on your features. "Did you deliberately choose this?"

Paige's blush deepens, feet kicking out to hit your thigh. "Shut up, no."

You can't help but laugh at her, crawling forward and leaning down to press a kiss just above her bellybutton. She's watching you carefully, waiting to see what you're going to do.

"This is new," you say, watching the way her breathing changes with every gentle touch. "I usually have to work to get you like this, but you're so–" you bite down on her skin, letting her feel the dull ache before sucking at the mark. "Are you becoming needier in your old age?"

"Fuck you," she spits, but there's no real venom in her words. Her abs are drawn tight and she's got her hands fisted by her sides; she's clearly desperate. "It's my birthday, be nice."

"Need I remind you," you flick the waistband of her shorts and boxers against her skin, pulling at them slightly to hint at her to lift her hips. She does as you wish and you slide them off of her, abandoning them at the end of the bed. "It's not your birthday anymore."

Paige makes a sound in the back of her throat, hips raising as she tries to get you to touch her. She's been on the edge since she saw you walking towards her with that cake in your hands, the amount of love you have for her so evident in your expression that it drove her fucking insane. She feels her entire body burning up, thighs shaking as her hands clutch at the sheets.

You settle comfortably between her legs, head dipping down to press a kiss to the inside of her thigh.

"What do you want me to do? I'll let you pick, my treat."

She rolls her eyes at that, breath shaky as she answers. "Use the thing."

You lean forward, lips ghosting over hip bone. You breathe out a laugh, tongue licking against the skin. "The thing? Like the movie?"

You feel Paige tug at your hair, an annoyed whine leaving her throat. "Stop fucking with me, please."

That's enough to satisfy you, dipping down lower to place a chaste kiss against her clit. She sucks in a sharp breath at the feeling, hips canting up to catch your mouth. Your tongue peeks out to lay flat against it, slowly moving your head up and down to provide just enough friction to make Paige's toes curl.

"Fuck," she breathes out, head tilted back against the pillow. "Need more."

Your right hand blindly fumbles around the bed for the wand, left hand now busy rubbing slow circles into her clit with your thumb. Her abs ripple, chest heaving from the feeling of it all. It's so much, yet nowhere near enough at the same time.

As soon as you press the on button the toy springs to life again, loud vibrations humming out into the air of the room. It almost makes your entire arm shake from how intense it is but you prevail, sitting up slightly to trail it between the valley of her breasts.

"What're you-" Paige cuts herself off, the both of you not able to contain your laughter because she sounds like some sort of fucked up robot when she speaks, the vibrations distorting her voice.

"Just," you lift the toy away from her chest to press a kiss to her lips, both of you smiling against each other. "Relax, enjoy it babe."

You trail the wand further down her body, letting it rest just above her clit. Her hips tilt up again, head lolling forward so she can watch. Your free hand presses against her stomach, keeping her flat to the bed.

"I said, relax."

"I am relaxed."

You scoff, not giving in to her attitude. You keep the wand where it is, just out of reach from where she needs it most. You move the hand from her stomach and let your fingers tickle against her inner thigh, inching closer and closer to her pussy. Your fingertip trails against her folds and, as you expected, she's soaked. It wasn't too often you'd swap roles like this, let her fully relax whilst you took control of the reigns but you knew she enjoyed this. Loves letting you do whatever you want to her.

You let a single finger dip between her folds, sliding up, down and then sinking inside of her. It's not much of a stretch from how wet she is, slides in easily. You pump the singular finger in and out slowly, eyes trained on Paige's face.

She's got her eyes screwed shut, head still lolled on her shoulder. Her eyebrows are furrowed, lips in a slight pout. You hover the vibrator just above her clit and when you press it down against her, her eyes shoot open and eyebrows raise in shock.

"Holy shit," she gasps, one hand wrapping around your wrist whilst the other shoots up to grab at the pillow beside her. "That's– fucking hell."

Her mouth is wide open, tongue hanging out just the tiniest bit in a daze. The room is filled with the sounds of the toy and her moans, her hips lifting off of the bed to chase the sensation. You press the wand down harder, letting it buzz against her clit. You can feel it vibrating through your arm and the vibrations are strong, making you wonder just how powerful it is. You make a note to get her to use it on you, next time.

You move the toy against her in slow circles, slipping another finger into her pussy and curling them up. "Good?"

Paige's chest is flushed, heaving with each deep breath she takes. It's almost like she doesn't know what to do with herself, head tipping back to the pillow and then tossing to the side. "Yeah," she breathes out, voice hoarse. "Good."

Your thumb reaches up to press at one of the buttons to increase the intensity, vibrations now pulsing against her. She whines, high pitched and strained as it all becomes too much. Your fingers curl faster inside of her, the squelching from her pussy just audible over the vibrations from the wand.

Her hips tilt up faster, feet slipping against the mattress as she chases the feeling. If she could see herself she'd be embarrassed by how easily she's succumbed to the pleasure, scrambling against the bed pathetically. She can't think straight, only able to focus on the feeling of her orgasm approaching.

"It's-" she can barely get her words out, sweat making her body glisten. You watch her with a smirk on your face, satisfied. "I think-"

"What's wrong, babe?"

Paige's eyes are rolled back in her head, head tipped back and neck on show. There's a blue vein stretching across the length of her neck and you find yourself leaning over her and dragging your tongue against it. Paige jumps at the feeling, broken moan leaving her chest. The hand that was wrapped around your wrist moves to your shoulder, blunt nails biting against your skin.

You're still moving the toy in slow circles, rubbing it against her clit. Paige is moaning, groaning- gravelly noises leaving her throat as the hand on your shoulder moves to your hair. She moves her head to face you, watery eyes boring into your own.

"Gonna cum," she whispers against your lips, barely audible over the noise from the toy. "Fucking–feel it in my chest."

You bite at her bottom lip, teeth pulling at her pout. Your nose presses against hers as you watch her unravel, watch a tear spill from her eye and drip down her cheek. "Yeah, birthday girl?"

Your fingers speed up, curling so quickly you fear they might end up cramping. Your wrist begins to ache from holding the toy, too but you keep going because it's all worth seeing your girlfriend like this.

The blonde lets out a combination between a cry and a moan, thighs squeezing around you and keeping you trapped as she cums. The vibrator slips a little from how wet she's become but you're quick to put it back in place.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she's chanting out to nobody in particular, thighs tightening and feet kicking against your back. You let her do it, let it happen as she goes silent. You feel it before you hear it, her hips rolling up and thighs shaking against you as she floods your fingers, and then- "I'm fucking-fucking cumming, oh shittttt."

The words leave her through gritted teeth, fingers finding their way under your shirt to scratch against your skin. You lean back to watch her in all her glory; head craned back against the pillow, nipples hard and hair matted against her forehead.

Your fingers slip out of her first and you sit them on your tongue, licking around them and moaning from the taste. You turn the vibrator off and chuck it beside Paige who is breathing so heavily you think she might pass out, eyes closed and lips dry.

You rub a comforting hand against her thigh, a soft touch to keep her grounded. You cast a glance down to her pussy and you can see the wet patch underneath her on the bed, dark and soaking into the cotton sheets.

"Wow," is all she says, body relaxing against the bed. Her eyes open and she softly smiles as soon as she sees you, shaking hand resting atop of your own. "Happy birthday to me."

You opt to lay beside her, leg kicked over her thighs with your head resting on her shoulder. "Feeling okay?"

"Honestly," she tucks her chin in to look down at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Best birthday gift ever."

"Doesn't count if you brought it for yourself, though." you counter, tilting up to look at her. You catch her rolling her eyes at you, the hand she'd settled around your waist digging in below your ribs.

"'Kay, where's my gift from you then?"

"Don't be greedy, Bueckers." you tease sliding out from beside her and walking towards where your bag was abandoned several hours ago. Paige lets out a whistle as she watches your ass as you walk away from her, rolling onto her side.

"Where you goin'?"

You ignore her, rummaging through your back to look for the jewellery box you'd so carefully wrapped last weekend. Much to relief you find it still intact and spin around, holding it behind your back as you saunter back towards Paige. You make sure to grab her clothes on the way, throwing them in her direction.

She raises an eyebrow at you, pulling just her boxers back up over her legs and an oversized t-shirt over her head. You do the same, keeping the box in your hand as you put her shorts on.

"A gift for little old me?"

You have to resist rolling your eyes at her, crouching down so you're at the same height. You hold the small box between you both and hold your gaze with Paige, watching as her eyes light up in anticipation.

"I remember looking at them a while ago," you start, thumb stroking against the patterned paper. "So I got 'em."

Paige frowns, unsure of what you're talking about. She takes the box from you, unsteady fingers pulling at the wrapping paper. She discards the paper beside her on the bed and opens up the box slowly, eyes widening when she sees what's inside.

"You didn't-"

"Don't say a word." you cut her off, knowing she was about to go on a spiel about how she didn't deserve this, how you shouldn't have spent the money, blah blah blah.

"How did you remember?" there's a hint of shock in her voice, as though she couldn't believe you'd remember something that she thought was so insignificant.

You smile at her, taking the box from her and pulling out one of the rings. They're just two simple silver bands with a small heart etched on the inside; nothing too flashy but you vividly remember Paige fawning over them in the store. "We should get matching," she'd suggested to you, nothing but a passing comment.

The ring slides onto her finger with ease and you thank the Gods above that you'd picked the right size. "Feels like we're gettin' married," she snickers, holding her hand up to admire the ring. "Lemme put it on you."

"Nuh-uh!" you whip your hand away from her, wiggling your fingers in the air. "I need to wash my hands after your little performance."

Paige laughs, shoving at your shoulder with no malice. She stands up from the bed, groaning from the ache in her legs. She wraps hand around your arm and pulls you up and into a hug.

"I love you," she mumbles against your shoulder, squeezing you tight. "Thank you, for everything."

You pull back slightly, scratching at the nape of her neck.

"I love you too," you lean in, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Happy birthday, baby."

[6ronze]

𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘

love & deep space w ZAYNE format. fic. warnings. fluff + nsfw. mdni. fem!reader. soft vanilla love making. praise. endearments(darling, princess, etc). strawberry cake mention cs its my fav. summary. he’s more focused on you rather than the occasion which was his birthday.

author’s note. hppy belated birthday to my fav boy!!

“So you made these for me, hm?” The dark haired man beside you asked, his gaze attentive and tone almost accusing—something you were awfully used to by now. “Are you sure you didn’t buy them, darling? I won’t be mad if you did,” he added, pushing himself off the kitchen counter he was recently leaning his hips against.

“I made, Zayne. I’ve told you this time and time again—I’ve been practicing, okay?” you countered, your brows furrowing and your lips forming a small pout of annoyance at how your lover kept on questioning the source of his birthday cake for this year. Unbeknownst to you, while you were busy pouting and setting up the candles on the cake, Zayne had his eyes fixated on your face, the corner of his lips curling to faint smile as he spectated your change of expressions from your side profile.

“I never said I didn’t believe you, my love,” the tall man uttered in a soft scoff. He watched attentively as you finally held the lighter to light up the candles, the small flames making an intimate atmosphere in your purposely dimly lit home. Even with the skilfully made strawberry cake you decorated for him, the only thing he had given his attention to was you, and it seemed like it would be that way for the entire night.

”There. Make a wish and blow them out for me,” you urged, putting the lighter away and turning to him with a fond, excited smile. It was like you were more enthusiastic about his birthday than himself—and the way you caught him looking at you the moment you shifted your gaze to him proved that point more. It was his birthday—so why was he staring at you?

Your smile faltered nervously, feeling a bit self-conscious with how intense his dark hazel green eyes gazed at you, fingers twitching and all.

“Something wrong?” was all you could muster to say at the moment, cursing yourself for letting him affecting you so despite your years of being together. He still managed to make you flustered, shy.

“I made my wish.”

You raised a brow at him, blinking at him curiously with the candles on cake flickering softly, the flames illuminating the room just enough for you to see each other. The second you opted to part your lips to ask him what his wish was exactly, he stole your breath away, halting your actions by leaning down to you, letting his lips meet your soft ones. Your breath hitched once you registered his actions, not letting him wait and giving him access to your mouth.

“Zayne,” you huffed between your kisses, his hand moving up to circle your neck, his thumb gently caressing your jawline.

“You are what I wished for,” was all he whispered in return before sliding his tongue against yours, taking you in and leaving you to nibble on your wet lower lip. “I can’t possibly wish for anything more—,” he added with a soft groan, his free hand reaching up to grip your hip, fingers massaging your flesh there before pushing back up against the marble kitchen counter. “—other than for you to stay by my side.”

At this point, you were near breathless, soft mewls of his name leaving your lips at the feeling of his cold fingers skimming under your shirt and over your tummy. You had your hands hold onto his arms, nails gently digging him and earning yourself a hum of delight from him.

In a matter of seconds he had your shirt lifted up over chest, one hand helping you held it up while the other slid up your rib cage to cup your breast that was encased in your bra. All the while his fingers tugged on the fabric of your bra, he had his lips glued to your neck, tongue peeking out to leave warm licks along your skin whenever he felt your pulse. With a mere hook of his fingers on your bra, he had your tits spilled out for him, his mouth migrating downward to your sweetly bared nipples, taking one of them around his lips.

“Baby, the candles—they’ll melt,” you breathed out between pants and whimpers, shivers running down your spine with every tug he made on your hardened bud, the swirl of his tongue around your areola making you mumble pathetic, empty pleas for him.

“Then we’ll make love in the dark. I know every part—every crevice of your body by heart,” he replied calmly, not bothered by the thought of the candles suddenly going during their intimate moment—he was too into it to care.

How could he stop now? When he finally his hand hovering above your wet cunt, fingers teasingly hooking under your waistband of your pants but not pulling it down until he felt you were desperate enough. And that didn’t take long. ‘Cause he had your pants pooled around your ankles in seconds, hands impatiently lifting you up onto the cold counter where your pretty cunt was finally equally level with his hips.

“Let me unwrap my gift, darling,” his smooth voice whispered into your ear, his hot breath kissing your skin and heating up your face when he laid your lower half bare to him. You had your hands gripping onto his upper arms, then his shoulders, eyes glazed over and watching closely as he undid his the zipper of his pants, his slender finger sliding his boxers down a bit to pull his cock out easier. You gulped in both nervousness and eagerness at the sight of his thick length standing at attention with a slight curve, beads of precum forming at the tip of it.

“You’re drooling,” he murmured teasingly to catch your attention, exhaling a soft sigh and smiling at the sight of the adorable face you made when you left your trance of need whenever you admired him, any part of him. “I’ll give it to you, love, don’t worry,” he assured you, hand moving to part your thighs further, pulling you further to the edge of the counter and finally aligning his cock along your pussy, nudging your slick folds apart with the fat tip.

“Fuck,” you heard him growl softly, the mere contact of his tip with the outer layer of your sweetness affecting him more than he’d like. With a look of determination, he pushed his hips forward slowly, easing himself into your slit while keeping a good hold on your hip.

You couldn’t help the whimpers and moans that he coaxed out of you, your entire being melting at the fullness you felt when he was fully inside you, his balls pressed against your ass.

Zayne winced and grunted with every spasm you made around his cock, loving how his sweet yet filthy praises affected you so with only a few thrusts he made into you. And he didn’t hesitate to surge forward more, pounding into you with unbecoming moans and squelches made from your sex filling your home.

You held onto his shoulders tightly, your grip shifting with every thrust his hips made, making you wrap your arms around him and pulling him closer to you. Your thighs quivered around his hips, high-pitched moans forced out of you from how tightly the knot in your lower belly tied, the tip of Zayne’s dick hitting you in the right spot every time. Perhaps it was uncoincidental that your lover felt the same, the warmth and intensity of love that was shared between you amplifying the pleasure ten fold.

“Princess, ‘m gonna cum for you—inside you,” he murmured, his words jumbled and almost incoherent. It was clear his mind was as hazy as yours at that moment, his hips pounding into you with need. His movements turned jerky when he finally neared that climax along with you, your tightening cunt giving him the final push from the edge, his aching cock twitching and pulsing inside your depths as he finally spilled thick ropes of his cum, painting your velvety walls an innocent white. Your own orgasm followed suit, mixing with his own to form a potent mixture of sensual adoration.

With ragged breaths, he slumped against you, his knees bucking slightly as he basked in the afterglow with you. He didn’t shy away from your embrace, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling the scent of your sweat and shampoo, calming him from his exertion.

“I don’t mind spending my birthday like this again next year, my dear. Maybe I’ll help you shop for a cake too,” he muttered against your neck, his voice hoarse yet playful. You groaned in response, hitting his arm lightly for acting suspicious about the cake you proclaimed to have baked yourself. “I didn’t buy the cake,” you grumbled against his shoulder, resting your head against him, to which he only chuckled at. “Sure, you didn’t,” Zayne murmured, smiling contently above your shoulder.

[ode2cheol]

ᝰ.ᐟ CHERRY CUPCAKE

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEUNGCHEOL after the last year esp he deserves the most happiness today ☹️☹️☹️

fluff, gn!reader

“flights are all delayed and all the hotels are completely booked, looks like we’ll have to spend the next couple hours here” seungcheol sighs sitting next to you on the bench in the airport cafe.

what was supposed to be a fun birthday trip you planned for him quickly turning into a disaster. it started with kkuma’s travel bag being ruined, meaning it took twenty minutes more than needed to drop her off to mingyu’s house. then it was the car breaking down on the way to the airport, another fifteen minutes lost and now, every flight to the vacation spot being delayed meaning you won’t get there until after seungcheol’s birthday.

usually you wouldn’t mind but you’d planned for all your gifts and surprises for him be sent to your room at the resort.

now you both were sitting on a sticky, cracking airport bench, only a few minutes left until it was officially seungcheol’s birthday and nowhere to stay for the night.

“i’m sorry cheol,” you started, voice laced with guilt “i just wanted to make sure you had an amazing birthday. you deserved it after the year you had”

you leaned forward, swallowing the lump in your throat and willing back the tears of frustration stinging in your eyes.

seungcheol noticed your distress and chucked lightly before wrapping his arm around you and making you lean on him. “you’re so silly baby, not everything has to be perfect, you know that right? it sounds cheesy but as long as i’m with you i really am happy”

you shot him a timid smile before something caught your attention. the array of sweet treats at the cafe counter, the red icing cupcake in particular drawing your attention.

before you knew it you were standing up and getting to the counter on instinct to buy the cupcake, smiling faintly at the red icing and small cherry sprinkles.

you walked to the airport store, buying the first candle you saw and placing it neatly on the cupcake before bringing it back to seungcheol.

your boyfriend smiled fondly, realising what you were trying to do and grabbed the lighter from your bag for you. you took it happily from his hands and brought it to the candle, the flame catching onto the small candle weakly.

“i know it isn’t the pretty cake i wanted for you to have but” you said sheepishly, looking at the airport clock and counting down the last few seconds before it was officially seungcheol’s birthday, “happy birthday cheol”

seungcheol smiled happily, his dimples on full display before blowing out the candles and leaning over to kiss you softly. “it’s perfect, thank you baby”

[readwritealldayallnight]

Wish

Captain John Price x Reader

wc: 1k words

warnings/tags: fluff

To say that it had been a long day, would be putting it lightly.

He’d promised you he’d be home over 5 hours ago now. He tries not to make promises to you about that sort of thing, knowing he can’t ever truly guarantee anything in his line of work, especially not what time he’ll be home for supper. But you had pleaded with him so sweetly this time.

“It’s your birthday John,” your lips had half whined, half laughed from where they were squished between John’s loving fingers, his amused expression smiling down at you. “I’ve never had you home on your birthday. I want to celebrate you.”

He had told you he would try his absolute best to make it home for 5, 6pm at the latest, knowing you had plans of cooking him his favourite dinner, probably a cheeky sweet for desert as well. Glancing at his watch as he walks through the halls of the now desolate barracks, he sighs, seeing that it’s approaching midnight.

He hoped you’d gone to bed hours ago, and weren’t staying up waiting for him. He hadn’t even had a single second to send you a half assed text message, the prick. He hoped you would be mad at him upon his return, rather than disappointed. His heart couldn’t take seeing you sad, knowing he’d ruined the work you likely put into the evening.

He approached his office, ready to dump his gear, grab his keys and leave this base in his rear view mirror, paperwork be damned. His steps halted momentarily however, when he spotted the light emanating from beneath his door. Someone was inside.

Cautiously but confidently swinging the door open in a single movement, Price stepped inside, eyes scanning the room, letting out a breath when his eyes land on the figure sitting atop his desk.

“Love what in the bloody fuckin’- do I want to know how you managed to weasel your way in here?”

“Probably not.” You admit casually, swinging your legs over the edge of his desk, sending him a pleased smirk. Your husband plants one hand on his hip, the other running through his beard as he exhales deeply out of his nose, a deep sound of consideration rumbling from his chest. Slowly, his head begins to shake in disbelief, eyes rolling as he reaches behind him to shut the door, unable to hide his own amusement at your antics.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he begins, approaching you where you sit. “Things got away from us, but I should’ve at least called-”

You press a single finger to his lips, cutting him off as you shush him.

“You can grovel tomorrow,” you say, removing your digit from his mouth, winking at his bemused expression. “You still have a few minutes left to your birthday John Price.” You shift on the desk, one hand reach back to open his desk drawer, knowing exactly what you’re searching for. You pull out his lighter, the silver metal catching the light of the lamp as you flick it open, sparking the flame to life. You gently bring the lighter to each candle adorned atop of the small, lovingly decorated, homemade cake you’ve brought.

John rolls his eyes as he counts the candles, noticing you’ve pulled out one for each year, but the love sick grin stretched across his face gives away the love and affection he holds for you. You, who’s been sat in his office for who knows how long, waiting for your husband, all in a last ditch effort to catch even just a few minutes of this day with him. A day he considers as ordinary as any other day, apart from the voicemail his mum leaves him, because he’s never able to catch her call in time. Even after all this time together, he can’t believe you still go through all this effort to make him feel special.

With all the candles now lit, you bring the lighter to your lips, pretending to blow it out before snapping the case shut. You put the lighter back in his drawer exactly where you found, before picking up the cake with both hands, bringing it between your two bodies, where John stands in front of you, hands stroking your knees.

“Happy birthday John,” you whisper to him, eyes sparkling with the reflection of the tiny flames, in addition to the love you hold for the man before you. “Make a wish.”

John’s own eyes are shiny with emotion as both his hands come to cover yours, helping you carry the cake.

“My wish came true a while ago sweetheart.” He never looks away from your eyes as he blows out the candles, his real wish come true.

“Oh! I forgot!” You announce suddenly, shifting the cake back onto the desk next to you, reaching for something apparently hidden from view on John’s desk chair. “You have to open this too.”

“Love, you shouldn’t have gotten-”

“Ah ah ah! It’s still today, don’t ruin your birthday for me anymore than you already have.” You interrupt him, lips forming a small giggle at the end of your own joke. You shove the small, terribly wrapped gift into his grasp as he chuckles. Pretending as though it’s a chore, he half heartedly tears away the wrapping paper, revealing baseball cap with his favourite football team on it. “You said you liked Gaz’s cap a while back, and I thought maybe we could, I don’t know, diversify your hats a little bit.”

“I really like this, love. Thank you.” He tells you, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead.

“Put it on, I want to see.” You order your husband, secretly really excited to see what your man looks like in something other than his usual boonie hat. John lifts the hat from his head, running a hand through his hair quickly before donning the cap, bill facing forward.

“How’s that, then?” He asks, doing a mock spin for you in good humour.

“I like it, but maybe like this,” you say, coming up off the desk to approach him, resting one hand on his shoulder as both of his come to naturally wrap around your waist. Your other hand sneaks upwards, twisting the cap around until it’s backwards on him.

“What?” He asks seriously, seeing the way your expression falls completely, staring up at him with eyes wide, a little slack jawed, and your cheeks have gone cheery red.

“Uh,” you mutter stupidly, completely entranced by how unreasonably attractive John is in the backwards hat. “Nothing. Maybe we’ll only wear it that way at home, okay?” You mumble, twisting the cap back so it’s forward facing again, still feeling dumbly flustered by the man who sleeps next to you every night.

A knock comes from the door before it’s flung open a half second later.

“Ach, sorry to interrupt you two love birds,” A Scottish accent rings out. “But we heard there might be cake.”

[milkzoro]

fuck around & find out

summary: y/n is curious to how aces devil fruit powers work

a/n: i wanted to do ace cuz first, uhmm that’s my man. and second!!! the vibes are sooo fall rn & i love the cold weather,,,, so enjoy <3

warnings: MDNI, pussy eating, backshots, cowgirl, soft!ace (i luv him)

☆彡

~

it’s the cold months on the ship that have you cravinggggg some warmth, whether that be from your heated blankets, your warm coffee in the mornings, or late night fires with the crew… you just loved the warmth, especially this time of year. the ocean was getting colder the more up north we sailed causing freezing mists to come up and hit the deck. you’ve been hanging around ace more often too, attracting to him like a moth to a lamp. while he was back on board, you took advantage of your friendly little flame~

you are laying together with ace all cuddled up and cozy in his bed, he has a campfire scented candle burning brightly in the corner of his room. admiring the man before you makes your tummy feel warm and nostalgic.

he has you so close, arms pressed side to side as you’re both laid against the pillows resting on the back of his headboard. one of his hands start to peak out of the blankets, he stretches his fingers before hyping you up, getting you ready for his next move. “mkay i call this,,,, wizard fingers.” you can never take him seriously, your cheeks are so sore from all the smiles he’s stolen from you. wizard fingers??? this can’t be real.

ace wiggles his fingers before you as you see each one of them ignite with small little flame. you giggle. “shouldn’t they be called lighter fingers? you literally look like you’re about to go burn a candle.” he groans next to you. “oh my god y/n. you didn’t let me finish!” you stare at his hands as he starts to manipulate each of the flames from his fingers.

he pulls four of them back into his fist leaving just his index finger ignited. the flame starts to form little letters. each flash was a letter from your name. flash. flash. flash. you smile even more, he’s such a dork.

“it’s pretty cool, i know.” he smirks “wasn’t like i was even practicing or anything.” you think he’s so full of himself but you can’t help but admire, he warms your heart. your cold hands are on his body as he still has you close. his powers are so interesting. all of this came from just eating a fruit? you can’t contain your thoughts as you think of all the possibilities, he’s so warm.

maybe it was the skin on skin that were feeding your delusions but you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking of what he feels like.

he tucks his hands back away under the covers moving to hold your hands in his. you still haven’t answered him, your mind was still deep in the clouds. “okay maybe i was practicing,, getting it legible was kinda hard.” he laughed and you felt his chest move against your arm. “hmm?” you recollect your thoughts. ace looks at you. “were you for real not listening, y/n. that was cool! right!?” he looks at you to make sure you are finding this entertaining. “ahh sorry just not thinking right haha-” you mumbled and he looked puzzled, he shifted under the blankets to wrap his arms around you and pull you in a hug. his chin rested on the top of your head. “what do you mean.” his body burned hotter trying to warm you up.

“jus thinking about you- err well your devil fruit powers.” you curse yourself. but glad that you’re faced with his chest instead so that he couldn’t see the embarrassment on your face right now. he laughed at you again. “what’s so special y/n. i just get warm. ‘m happy you like it though.” his arms tighten around you, squeezing you softly. your tummy was doing flips again, the way he had a grip on you sent shivers to your core. the feeling of his firm, scorching arms had you craving more from him. you knew he was teasing you though. he always would, he knew how much you loved his fiery touch and playful behaviors.

you’re face to face with him again, seeing red flames in his eyes. heat spreads to your face as his eyes lock on yours, waiting for any reaction from you. you’re lips hesitate to speak. “you- you get warm… everywhere?” your eyes avoid his. his hand gripped your thighs right below your ass, softly tugging on you to get your leg wrapped around his torso. you feel his hot fingers brushing away the stray hairs that were messily covering your face. it burned hot. his face proved that he found your embarrassment amusing.

“wanna find out?”

~

ace kisses you softly. his hot hand reaching up the softness of your shirt and leading themselves to your perked nipple. his hands are so rough, much different than the way his lips feel. he kisses the side of your mouth and whispers softly to you, “you’re still so cold?” he giggles as he watches you squirm at his touch.

“ace, your portholes are open. it’s fucking cold in here.” you whine trying to keep his heated fingers on you. his amused grin has you needy and irritated. you reach for his hands again. “just a second babe, let’s get ya shirt off.” ace helps to fully undress you with sturdy hands. a shiver leaves your body, covering you in goose bumps as the cool sea breeze hits your skin. “i’ll getcha all warmed up baby.”

he takes his hands and starts massaging the creases of your hips. kneading and pulling on your plush skin, slowly working his tepid hands all the way up your torso. the heaviness in his touch relieved so much within you, moaning at his warmth and his strength. he is manhandling you with you such softness and love.

hot palms come up to cup under your breasts tenderly, dipping his head down and sucking against your pretty nubs. his tongue swirls around each one leaving a string of warm saliva connecting from your buds to his lips. “are we gettin there, pretty? how do you feel?” wanting more, you pull him so that his chest meets yours. he buries his face into your neck and softly suckles. his breaths are hot there. “m still cold ace, wanna feel you” you whine for him.

his lips curl into a smile against your skin, he knew exactly what you craved. “how do you want it angel?” his clothed thigh pushes against your needy cunt, collecting many fifty whines from you. his fire ignited something warm inside of you, you need it to burn brighter.

his body shuffles down the bed, inching his face to be face to face with your sleep shorts. ace wants your juices dripping down his face, seeing you twitch for him has him starving. impatiently, he removes your shorts and panties, tossing them to the floor. he takes your hands with his own while he plays with you devilishly with his tongue, squeezing your palms slightly when he feels you try to move away.

his tongue attached to you like a magnet, chasing every move, he wouldn’t let you get away. he squeezes your hands again, “that’s it baby, such a good girl.” his tongue drawing little clouds on your swollen clit. “doin so good, can’t get enough of ya y/n~” he gulps all of your juices, sucking you clean. “haah- fuck acee. mm so close.” the tip of his nose brushed against the point of your clit as he slid his lips to your weeping hole, drinking even more of you.

he flicks back and forth from your hole to your clit with his tongue. removing one of his hands from yours, he reaches for the plump of your thigh. he squeezed harshly, assuring you to cum for him. his tongue moved swiftly with your slick allowing you to reach your orgasm. “ace! ‘m cuh- cumming!! shiiit right there haa-“ the sight of his glistening face sent an aftershock to your cunt, his smirk was so sexy while he was covered with your juices.

ace’s cock ached in his boxers, there were little dark spots littered across the fabric from his precum. “can ya do one more for me baby doll?” whimpers leave your lips while your head slightly nodded for him. “you did so good fa me y/a~ now you ready to feel this dick cupcake?”

~

your pussy was already sopping for him but still there was a little resistance when he slid into you. ace moaned breathily at the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him. “fuuu- shit y/n- feel so fuckin good mmmf~” his hot hands pushed down on your low back as your pussy was busy sucking around his cock.

your eyes watered at the shear width of him, he was spreading your sore cunt so deliciously. you felt your second orgasm start to form within your overstimulated core. he reached your cervix with one final slow push. once fully fitted around his length, you fucked back on him, slowly grinding your ass against his hard thighs.

ace tried to muffle his moans with his hand but you stripped them from him, he couldn’t be quiet. his deep moans echoed in his small cabin, ricocheting deep in your pulsating cunt. you throbbed for him, he curved upwards directly hitting your sensitive spot. ace gripped both sides of your ass to speed up his pace. pulling you hard against his reckless thrusts. he was getting sloppy. each thrust was met with the clapping of your cheeks on him, he groaned with each contact hit.

“wanna look atcha-“ he flipped you around to face him. you whined at the sudden emptiness but sighed as he soon filled you back up again. “don’t worry mama, wasn’t gonna take it from you.”

his voice was going blurry in your ears, dick so good you’re hearing auditory hallucinations. he took hold of your hips again while you sat on top of him, he rocks against you slowly.

you miss his mouth, his warmth~ wanna taste him again. your arms detach from his shoulders to hang loose around his neck, forehead rested against his while he fucks up into you. you’re ready, you wanna cum around him. pussy numb from feeling his tip abuse your cervix. “mm so close ace, please fuck me-” nonsense spilling from your lips, he is fucking you dumb.

your eyes are heavy as you try to line your lips up with his, drool sliding around both of your faces. he connects with you and sucks feverishly on your swollen lips. ace begins to pull you up and down on his veiny cock, bouncing you sporadically. the tightness in your eyes not helping you postpone your orgasm. “mmm ahh huhh- f-fuckk gonna- agh i’m cumming baby!!!!” the pleasure washes over you like a tsunami, it’s almost too much. your legs start to tremble as you effortlessly squeeze and clench around his width. “fuck cum in me ace- warm me up~” your wall’s are contracting around his poor, twitching cock while you milk him~ his breaths were shaky and irregular as he chased his own release.

“y/nnn-“ his husky voice filled your ears as you saw him cum inside of you. hips shuttering as his orgasm strikes him. pretty black hair sticking to the beads of sweat stuck to his forehead, his eyes tightened as he grunted out your name a few more times. glistening before you, he looked so ethereal..

~

* we are cuddling and warm and soo in luv !!! *

[kyahcomic]

[6okuto]

MAKE A WISH!

gn!reader | vry short but Happy Birthday Iwaizumi Hajime (30) Athletic Trainer 😭😭🩷🩷🩷

“get ready to make a wish,” you quietly sing-song as you attempt to use the wand lighter in your hand.

hajime takes a deep breath, twisting the bracelet around his wrist as he walks around the counter to reach you. “don’t think i have one.”

“oh, come on, you have to want something. actually i know you want something- i saw you eyeing that hoodie a while ago.”

“can i wish for that now that you know?”

“i don’t know, though. just don’t tell me when you actually blow out the candles.”

the wicks’ flames flicker to life, small lights on a similarly small cake you bought at the grocery store on your way home. there'd be a bigger one later, you're sure—his friends and teammates wouldn't let his birthday pass without celebration. but everyone's schedules lined up best on the weekend, so today, june 10th, was yours alone to share.

you're making sure the candles aren’t slanted when an arm wraps around your waist. a chaste kiss is planted on your cheek, pulling your attention from the cake to the sickeningly handsome face and soft smile beside you.

you press a kiss of your own to hajime’s lips and smile back. “hello there.”

“hey.” he looks at the hastily written “hajime day! <3” on top of the cake. “hajime day?”

“mhm, it’s your day, so sit.”

snaking out of his hold, you pull the closest chair and gently push him into it. your boyfriend softly chuckles, but lets you maneuver him in front of the cake.

your own chair scrapes against the kitchen tile as you sit next to him. “’kay, ready?”

hajime raises a brow. “for what—”

you clap your hands. “happy birthday to you—”

“oh, babe—”

“happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear hajime,” you drag out the last vowel and lean in close, grabbing his hand in yours. “happy birthday to you.”

red tints the birthday boy’s ears and cheeks, and his lips wobble between a smile and fake grimace as you grin. “wish time!"

you squeeze his hand and tease, “i won't be offended if you wish for the hoodie and not eternal happiness with me, just so you know.”

he snorts. “thanks for your kindness.”

a comfortable quiet fills your home as hajime looks down at the cake—the slightly bigger eye of the smiley face, and wobbly ‘3’ of the text heart—then the rest of the kitchen where your matching mugs hang, and the calendar has today circled and starred in bright red.

and then he looks at you, still smiling as you wait for him to think of something he could possibly want more than coming home to you,

and there isn't anything, really.

(at least not until saturday when he's sure his team will tell him to wish for win after win this season.)

so he blows out the candles, and rubs the back of your hand still holding onto his, and even if he doesn't tell you what he wished for, he thinks you both know it anyway.

“okay, i know you probably wished for eternal happiness with me or whatever, but just in case you wished for the hoodie—” you stand up and speed walk to the couch.

hajime blinks. “are you serious?”

he hears the sound of a gift bag before he sees it.

“it was supposed to be like, ‘ooh, look, the magic of a birthday wish!’”

“babe.”

“did you wish for the hoodie, and be honest because i can still do the joke—”

[gotham-daydreams]

Birthday

[Yandere Batfam × Gender Neutral! Reader]

[Warnings: Implied-ish Kidnapping, Reader is Restrained, Yandere Implications (?)]

(Happy birthday to me, and whoever reads this too if it's your birthday :]. Something short and sweet for your troubles! Not proofread or really edited.)

------------------------

When you finally came to, you couldn't see anything at first. You tried to move, but only found yourself bound to something you couldn’t see. All you could tell was that you were sitting, and that your wrists, along with your ankles, were tied down.

Maybe you’d say something, or even call out to see if anyone was around or could help you, but you didn't. Despite the deafening silence and complete darkness, you could've sworn that there are others in the room with you… wherever you are. Even if you couldn't see them or hear them, and honestly you didn't know if that made things better or worse.

You couldn't say how many of them there are, but it was enough for them to surround you - or maybe it was only one or two people whose presence was enough to make you feel surrounded and suffocating. Though, no matter which turned out to be true, that didn't change the reality of the situation.

You were trapped in a dark room with someone, bound to what felt like a chair, and had no means of escape.

Have you been kidnapped? Or were you still in your apartment, just tied to one of your chairs?

… Again, you didn't know what was worse.

The ropes that held your wrists and ankles burned and dug into your skin when you moved even the slightest bit.

However, you didn't have much of a chance to move anymore before you felt someone place their hands on your shoulders, and slowly pulled you to sit back, as if trying to get you comfortable. Yet it only made you tense and straighten your back, but you didn't dare resist nor look back. Their touch was cold, so much so that you could feel it from under your sweater, but you still tried to not make a peep. 

It was only now did you feel your heart begin to pound against your chest, with sweat beginning to form and slowly roll down from your skull. You could feel what felt like countless eyes on you, and though you couldn't help but shrink under their invisible gaze, you didn't dare move, or even make a sound. You don't think you could bear being the first, especially not with someone's hands still on you.

It was only a moment after, did something break the deafening silence. It sounded like clicking, or a flick of some kind before a small little flame spawn from the darkness, coming from what seemed to be the tip of a long lighter, even if you could barely make it out. 

You watched as the little flame moved, before stopping over what seemed to be the tip of a candle, and stayed there before it lit. Not once did you look away as the little flame jumped from candle to candle, before it was suddenly put out once all the candles were lit. It was only now that you could see that the candles were on top of a cake, one you recognized too well and made your heart drop.

“Happy birthday to you~.” A voice began to sing as the cake was lifted, revealing a sort of blue ‘V’, with the ends almost acting as wings for whatever creature it tried to represent.

The figure began to move, the little flames on the candles revealing more of what laid in the darkness, more things that made the dread inside your chest grow.

“Happy birthday to you~.” The person approached you from the right, revealing four more people as they slowly drew close with each little word and step. Your heart began to race, and your dread only continued to grow. 

The first they passed was someone in a black suit that seemed to hold some kind of silver tray by their side. The only thing you noticed about the second was a brown jacket, and the faintest bit of a red symbol, with the third also wearing a red suit with a cape and black straps along the chest, with some kind of gold symbol with bird where the straps intersected right at the center.

The fourth also had a cape with some red on their own suit, but there was some yellow on the inside of the cape, and you could've sworn you could make out the faintest traces of an ‘R’ patch on the uppermost left area of the chest.

The hands on your shoulders felt heavier somehow as you felt another slow, cold bead of sweat roll down from your head, and trail down to your neck.

“Happy birthday~,” The person holding the cake stepped closer, and you could practically feel them beside you as they placed the cake down right in front of you, their arm nearly brushing against your own.

“Dear~,” Suddenly, a sparkler lit at the end of the table, and it came from the left side this time. Whoever was holding it walked down from the left, and very briefly and faintly could you make out three more people. 

The one holding the sparkler had an outline of a bat along their chest in yellow, with the majority of their suit being covered in black. They passed by someone whose suit was prominently purple, with their cloak covering most of their outfit, and showing they were wearing a hood as well. The last was mostly in yellow, and they seemed to be wearing something more akin to armor, with a reflective bat insignia on their chest as well.

Just how many people were there?

“Y/n~.” The person finally finished, saying your name right in your ear as the sparkler was placed on the cake. The words ‘Happy Birthday, Y/n! Lot's of love, Your Family ♡’ were written in icing on top of the cake, with a bit of smudged icing on top of the words ‘Your Family’, signifying that they had replaced the name that was originally there, and written over it, with little effort put into them even hiding that fact.

“Happy birthday to you~.” They hummed out with a little chuckle, tone happy-go-lucky and much too light for your liking. Especially when you were in a dark room with several people, tied to a chair with your wrists and ankles tightly bound.

Then, you felt someone's breath against your other ear, and when they spoke, their voice was much deeper and gruffer than the person who sung before.

“Go on, make a wish.” 

Chills shot down your spine, and it was only now did you notice the small little blinking red light on the right side of the table, around where the person in the suit stood.

You glanced at the faint lens you could barely make out in the dark, and back at the cake, silently swallowing before you took in a breath, and blew out the candles.

With that, your fate was sealed, and the cake was cut.

Of course, it was your favorite flavor, and made just how you liked it. 

Just like how she always made it.

— 

Bonus:

One of the candles is a trick candle, and as it relights it sets off a bomb and the room explodes, the end! :]

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

I know that Halloween is over but I still gotta talk about this Hocus Pocus au I thought up

(Human) Adam just moved to Salem, the witch capital of the U.S and the whole town is telling ghost stories of Lucifer Morningstar, the famous male witch who swore he’d be back to take revenge on the townspeople before he was hung by the neck until dead.

Adam thinks this is a crock of shit, so he and his new friend Lute and his sister Emily sneak into Lucifer’s house (which has since been turned into a small museum) legend tells that Lucifer can only return if a virgin lights the black flame candle and Adam is being less than honest about his sexual exploits to his new friend.

As a joke to freak them both out he lights the candle. Unfortunately for him, it works and the witch appears in a violent gust of wind

That’s all I got but I just like the idea of Adam trying to escape from witch Lucifer

MY DUDE I LOVE THIS!!! @fanofstuff01 @beef-brisket

And I'm going to have him and Lute be like freshmen in college so Adams like 19-20 and Emily is like say a senior in high school her and Adam are a year apart.

And yes they had Emily out trick or treating because she's short en to get away with it and said "teenagers are allowed candy too".

-

Lute: Adam come on this isn't funny, the curse is real.

Adam: It's not real because witches and magic aren't real. The trails were just so they could hang a bunch of people who didn't agree with their beliefs.

They looked around the museum house and at night it's creepy especially being in the woods. Emily turned on a light so they could see.

Emily: Can we go?

Adam: No look at all this cool stuff! And that book? Says it's bound in real human flesh...... Gross.

Lute watched as Adam went over to the black candle.

Lute: Don't light that! If a virgin lights the candle it's said that Lucifer Morningstar will come back from the dead.

Adam burst out laughing: Good thing I'm not a virgin then.

Emily raised a brow: You only dated Eve for like a week.

Adam: You can have sex in a week!

The truth was they only made out a little bit and then her folks didn't want her having a boyfriend until after she graduated from high school.

So yes, Adam is a virgin. But his fucking sister doesn't need to know that!

He pulled out his lighter and smirked, curses and magic what a load of shit.

Lute: Adam no!

Adam lit the candle: See, nothing to-.....

The house started to violently shake, the floorboards glowed underneath and a laughter could be heard.

Lute: The fuck!?

Emily glared at Adam: A virgin lit the candle.

Adam: W-what!? It's okay! I'll just blow it out!

He blew out the candle but the flame came back.

Lute and Emily's eyes went wide when they saw a man that matches Lucifer's picture come out from the back room.

Lucifer: And who do I owe the pleasure to? Hmm? Oh, you.~

Adam turned around and jumped, what the fuck!?

Lute: We should go.

Adam: Good idea.

They all turn to run out the door, Emily and Lute make it out but the door slams in Adams face locking him in.

Adam: Fuck!

Emily bangs on the door: Adam!!

Adam tried pulling on the door but it was no use. Chills crept up his spine when a low laugh echoed in the room. He turned to see Lucifer standing there with his book now in hand.

Lucifer: Oh, you weren't leaving already were you?~

[bigtreefest]

A Celebration Just For Us

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You want to celebrate Steve’s actual birthday, none of that 4th of July bs

Word count: 920

Content/warnings: essentially straight-up fluff, kissing, lotsa happy smiles, friend Bucky, time switching between past and present

A/N: This is thanks to the discussion of Steve’s actual birthday from @thezombieprostitute and @peyton-warren. I just love the thought of him having to keep it a secret because of a contract he signed a lifetime ago, only letting his closest family and friends in on it.

I’d love to hear what you think. More than happy to gush with you in response to comments, reblogs, or asks💗 thank you for reading

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist

The lights were off and there were guards around the perimeter, ready to relocate any possible onlookers or overly curious paparazzi. Surely the abundance of cars parked outside the complex could’ve drawn attention, but no more than any other gathering, you were hoping. The curtains were drawn shut, tight as can be so no light could make it through, although there wasn’t much besides the flickering flames that lit up your face.

You were crouched over in the corner of the kitchen counter in your small apartment, further cozied by the dozen or so people who crammed into the small space, all here to celebrate your wonderful boyfriend, Steve Rogers as you used your lighter in a frenzy so the first candle wouldn’t melt before you finally reached the last one.

Once you first found out about it, you couldn’t help but bust out into laughter. Steve did his best to keep a straight face, telling you the story as you were leaning against him on the small couch in your apartment a few months after the two of you started dating.

“Steve, why? Just…why? Why did you agree, why did they make you do it in the first place?”

Steve let out a chuckle and threw his hands up in a shrug as he continued his explanation.

“It was in the contract! I just wanted to serve my country. I guess they thought it would drum up more patriotism? I had no problem faking it until the war was over, but I had no idea I’d be around this long. There’s no end to it. I’ve just gotta hide my real birthday from the public forever, however long that ends up being.”

You snuggled into his chest and giggled.

“Yeah, you have been around for awhile. But I’m so happy it led you here. Now you just get to have two celebrations. One that’s small and special, private, shared with friends, and the other that you share with the people.”

Steve smiled as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head and squeezed around your waist, pulling you closer as you shuffled back into him.

“I’m gonna try and let it slide that you called me old because I love you, and I love the idea of my day being just for us.”

Bucky had come over earlier in the day to help you set up for the small party you were surprising Steve with. Tony and Nat had taken him out for a day in the city doing who knows what, but it gave the two of you plenty of time to decorate and prepare.

Just before guests started arriving, you were putting candles on the cake, only up to seventy-five.

“Buck, how the heck am I supposed to fit any more candles on this cake? I’m not even three-quarters of the way finished and I’m running out of room!”

Bucky looked over at you from his spot on the ladder where he was hanging streamers and smiled when he saw the cake. He was happy his friend had found someone amazing. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t get along with you almost as well as Steve. He’d become a good friend over the year or so you’d been dating.

“Um…put the candles closer together? It’s definitely gonna mess up that frosting you worked so hard on, but I guess that’s the cost of celebrating old men like us.”

You smiled and shrugged as you continued on. “Yeah, that’s what it’s looking like it’s gonna be. You think he’ll be okay with that?”

Bucky nodded. “More than okay. He’ll love it.”

The combined flame from the hundred or so candles smushed side-by-side was hot on your smiling cheeks as you walked towards the grin being mirrored on Steve. Everyone around you was singing as you set the cake down in front of him on the counter, watching him finally take a deep breath and blow out the mound of wax that sat atop a cake specially baked in his favorite flavor. There was no red, white, and blue. No patriotism in sight. Just the pure celebration of a man who affected all of you as a person. An individual with an amazing, beautiful, selfless personality, separate from what everyone else in the world saw him as.

Steve wrapped an arm around your hip as smoke faintly rose from the extinguished candle lump and pulled you tight to his side. Your hand went to his hair, idly stroking through it as the friends surrounding you cheered.

“Wish for anything good, Stevie?”

He titled his head up to look at you, beaming with love and satisfaction.

“I know I’ll get made fun of for saying I have everything I could ever want right here, so yes. But I will also say, it’s not that far off.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him. He always knew just what to say. You leaned down to give him a peck before you heard a groan from behind you. It was Tony.

“Okay, love birds. We get it. Happy secret birthday, Rogers. Now hurry up and get your thousand candles outta here. It’s time for cake!”

You helped Steve to pull the candles off the cake, holding one out here and there for him to lick the frosting off. He hummed at the flavor, happy you knew him so well and that he knew there were many more special celebrations, just like this, to come.

Bonus A/N: hehehe, happy birthday Steve. Let the man be happy in the modern day. Cake actually sounds so good rn

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @mercurial-chuckles

[ronearoundblindly]

Hideout (Interlude)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!reader (see series)

Written for @whiskeytangofoxtrot555's birthday from her premise ask 💜 but also serves as a wee prezzie for @blogbog710, @targaryenvampireslayer, @navybrat817, and (belatedly) the lovely @ellethespaceunicorn! (What the heck is in the water?? So many bdays I didn't know about!)

Summary: Your birthday ritual is interrupted.

*You do not need to know anything about this series to enjoy this blurb.* Warnings for suggestive eating, a sweet kiss (literally), cuddling in minimal clothing, but otherwise, just fluff and feels! WC 1.2k

Of course, you don’t always do this. Sometimes you’re out with friends. Sometimes your parents make a huge deal out of late dinner. Sometimes you draw the short straw and have to work the front desk, but not tonight.

The searing red of the digital clock counts down for you (or up depending on how you look at it). Soon—very soon—it will be midnight, and you can wish yourself the first ‘happy birthday.’ To some that might seem sad, but it’s become a ritual of you putting yourself first. Birthday parties may be for children but celebrating YOU should never go out of style.

The red flickers. New numbers. New you. Older, wiser, and alive. It’s a beautiful thing.

Your eyelids fall heavy after your long soak in the tub, the lingering scent of the bubblebath still warm on your skin. You’re content and tired. You hum as a smile tugs the corners of your mouth.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Why you aren’t startled is a hope you don't admit aloud, a greedy, gluttonous vice that piles on to a reality you cannot share with a single living soul except…

Steve Rogers, the fugitive Captain America, crouches outside your window, nimble and stealthy, having climbed to the slant of roof without you noticing.

But you wished for him. You always wish for him to come back.

Your smile grows as you slide off the edge of your bed and press your hand to the pane of glass. He mirrors the gesture, unhurried, soft. It’s just a moment more before you lift the latches and invite him in.

Whispers of ‘hey’ are exchanged while Steve crawls through, but he only answers your surprised “what are you doing here?” with a kiss to your forehead and a long hug.

You taught him how to hug like that. He's taken it to another level as anxiety melts out of you faster than it did in the bath.

His warm skin smells of pine and leather, likely from wearing his decrepit Cap suit to sneak around the woods behind your house. It fits his mountain-man vibe these days--full beard, hair curling beneath his ears, desperate loneliness he uses you to brighten.

You're not sure Steve comprehends how much light he brings to your life in return, but you soak up what you can.

He stands tall, still grinning, and drops a small, structured backpack to the floor. From it he pulls a pastry box, a little pack of candles, and a lighter. He goes through the entire process of preparing your cupcake in his palm before stretching out his hand.

The tiny, flickering flame shimmers in his twilight eyes.

“Happy birthday, Tops.”

As you gently take your treat, it occurs to you that you’ve never told Steve Rogers your birthday. 

“How did you know?”

Technically, the question is casual, but you’re still curious.

His eyebrows shoot up, dramatic and comical shadows cast across his handsome features.

“Well, see, in my…position—” Wax drips onto the towering icing while Steve rubs his neck, guilty and avoiding your eyes. “I have to take certain…precautions, and I was just—” 

“Did you look me up? Online? Do some research, huh? Check up on me?” 

You’re teasing him, but it is fun to see the huge man kneeling at your bedside squirm. His blush is crimson in the candlelight.

You poke his burly shoulder. “You were checkin’ me out…”

“It’s not like that,” he whispers. “Anyway, make a wish, birthday girl.” Steve pushes the cupcake higher in your hold, encouraging you with a wry smile.

Your breath is swift and precise, your desire so clear at the forefront of your mind that picking a wish—another wish, since he’s already here—takes no time at all.

Steve maneuvers himself to sit up on your bed, pulling you to into his lap.

“Good surprise?”

“The best,” you whisper.

You remove the candle and hold the bottom to Steve’s lips. “Lick.”

He sucks off the icing slowly, keeping his eyes locked with yours.

You playfully run your finger through the frosting and taste it, too. If you ever told him your favorite cake flavor, you can’t remember that either, but he clearly knows.

“Tasty?” he asks, a swipe of his tongue wetting his lips.

“Uh-huh.”

You take another dollop and offer your finger to him.

He chuckles. “It’s all yours. I’m not fond of super-sweet things.”

“Oh?” You let the whipped, buttery sugar dissolve in your mouth, thinking. “You’re fond of me, so…are you saying I’m not sweet?”

Your concern is overly dramatic, but Steve stares, biting his bottom lip. “No.”

“Then what do I add to the flavor?” You pull down a corner of crimped paper to try the cake itself. He’s still pondering when you clean lingering stickiness off your thumb.

“Clarity,” Steve finally says. “You offer clarity in a very blurry life.”

His hand on your back shifts to cradle your head, bringing you closer until you’re captured in an intense but chaste kiss. He cups your cheek in his other palm and licks across your sweet lips until you open for him. Steve devours you like you are the real treat, uncaring if his offering splats on the floor. It’s not on fire anymore, so who cares?

Something else occurs to you, jolting you to break away.

“How long can you stay?”

Steve pets down his beard, restarting his brain. “Till morning, I guess, but then I should go. I don’t want to ruin any of your other plans.”

Unbidden, you inhale swiftly and are overtaken by a yawn.

He’s wildly amused by that. “Tired, Tops?”

“No,” you lie, feeling another one coming on. “If I eat the rest of this, I’ll have energy.”

“Or—“ Steve plucks the confection away before you can slam it in two bites flat “—you can finish this for breakfast and get some sleep.”

You whine in protest because every minute you sleep is a minute with him wasted. He senses exactly that.

“I promise to stay right here all night. Come on. Get comfy.”

He repackages your cupcake to keep it fresh while you crawl into bed. You’ve never seen Steve have to remove his suit, and to watch, it looks tedious and involved.

“Took a second to master, I tell ya,” he mutters once the top is off.

Another minute and he’s shuffling under the covers beside you, aligning his body to snuggle yours, keeping you facing him.

Again his hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing across your skin gently. He’s purposefully lulling you, placing the most delicate kisses over your forehead, his beard tickling your nose and making it scrunch up.

“Sorry,” he breathes.

You tilt upwards to steal the apology right from his lips. Usually, your time together is dictated by his needs, even if he doesn’t ask for the attention. It’s uplifting to have no worry of caring for him explicitly. This is just you with him, zero pressure, tons of love, nothing between.

“Hey, Steve?”

You wait for the deep rumble of a hum from his chest

“Thank you. I don’t think I ever said that.”

He smiles against your mouth, breaking away with a swift double peck.

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” He pulls you flush to his chest, sighing happily when you toss your leg over his hip. “Happy birthday,” Steve whispers into your hair. “Thank you for letting me in.”

You fall asleep with him everywhere, in your arms, in your lungs, and in your heart. Your wish is that he never leaves, and for tonight, he’s doing the best he can to make your every wish come true.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries 

@rogersbarber @blogbog710 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

@mrsevans90 @lemonadygirl @umadirectioner @mrschandlerbing @as-white-as-snow-love

[fruity-mega-coconut69]

Thunderstorm

[Pairings]: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

[Summary]: There is a power outage due to a thunderstorm and you and Tara enjoy the quiet hours together.

[warnings]: little blood, cursing. kissing, my writing, not proof read

A/N: Oh my god, guys. i'm so sorry for not posting, but I'll try to post more!

-----------------------------------------------------------

“Damn it!” 

You curse quietly to yourself when the knife you’ve been cutting some vegetables with caught your finger, making blood drip from it slightly. The lights had gone out and your vision was clouded by the dark.

“Baby? Are you okay?” Tara’s worried voice can be heard from the living room. Soon, you hear footsteps and your small kitchen is lightened up by Tara’s flashlight on her phone as she slowly approaches. 

“Yeah, uhm, can you pass me a band aid from that cupboard?” You point at said cupboard.

“Of course” She puts her phone down and reaches up to open the cupboard. After a little struggle, she opens it and takes a band aid out. Tara turns around to face you and steps closer. She takes your ‘injured’ finger in one of her hands after she unwrapped the band aid and puts it on the cut gently. Tara leans down and puts her lips on the band aid-covered cut softly, pulling away after a moment. “There. All better.” She smiles and takes a step back.

“Thanks.” You smile and cup her face with your hands to bring her into a sweet kiss. After she pulls away, she sighs and glances at the half-cut vegetables on the kitchen counter.

“I think dinner will have to wait.”  

You roll your eyes. “I know. But I’m hungry” She chuckles then looks out the window, seeing rain practically pouring from the sky. 

“Come on. Let’s go to the living room” She takes her phone off the counter then takes your hand in her, starting to head towards your living room. 

“Wait. I’ll get candles.” You grumple out, letting go of her hand and going into the storage room. A minute or two later, you walk out with a couple of candles in your hands and Tara laughs. “What?” You furrow your eyebrows in genuine confusion as she continues giggling. 

“Nothing. Nothing. You just look adorable. Come on, let me help you.” You scoff and walk past her. 

“I’m fully capable of carrying candles. They’re just slippery.” You huff, but soon regret going ahead of Tara when you are, once again, engulfed by darkness. You stop in your tracks and turn around to look at Tara, standing in the hallway with her arms crossed and her phone in her hand, flashlight still on. 

She immediately loses her serious demeanor and her arms fall to her sides as she smirks. “What? Are you scared of the dark?” She asks, walking over to you while chuckling. 

You roll your eyes. “No. But I’d like to make it to the living room without breaking my fucking leg, Tara.” You mumble as the two of you start walking towards the living room.

You arrive in the living room and you put the candles on the couch while you take your lighter out of your pocket. Tara puts her phone down and picks up a candle, holding it out to you. You light it and she puts it on the coffee table. You light the rest, too, and soon the dimmed flames of the candles light up the living room.

After you’re done, you plop down onto the couch with a sigh, Tara following after you.As Tara scoots closer to you, you take your phone out and unlock it, only to see that there is no wifi. 

“Oh, come on!” 

Tara takes the phone out of your hands and moves closer, your knees and shoulders touching.  “You know, this is kinda romantic. Don't you think so?” 

You furrow your eyebrows and slowly turn your head to face her. “Wh-how is this romantic? We literally have nothing to eat.” 

Tara rolls her eyes and looks at you. “Are you serious? You can only think about food? “

“I love to eat, T. I can’t help it—-” 

Tara shuts you up as she presses her lips to yours. You let out a surprised gasp but kiss back nonetheless. Her hands gently cup your face and she slowly moves to straddle your legs. Your hands rest on her lower back as the two of you keep kissing. A minute later, she pulls back.

“But, I mean I could eat you.”

Tara groans and slaps your shoulder-which causes you to frown and rub the spot she had slapped. “You–I…you’re unbelievable.” She is about to get off of your legs when you stop her by placing your hands firmly on her waist.

“Wait.” You mumble, pulling her closer, your noses touching. “I’m sorry.”You look into her eyes and she smirks, her hands go back up to cup your face and she kisses you again. As the two of you continue kissing, the heavy rain falling outside and the occasional rumble of the thunder makes the moment a hundred times better. 

“Apology accepted.” Tara mumbles against your lips before pressing hers to them firmly once again.

A/N: I know, It's short. I'm sorry

[yellowharrington]

jaded -- chapter 1, carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen "carmy" berzatto x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), the bear fx

warnings: sexual content, mention of unprotected piv sex, swearing, workplace relationship. minors dni with this story please.

word count: 1.4k+

a/n: guess who's back... back again... natty's back... tell a friend.... hey besties lol ik its been a year but i've been obsessed with the bear so i decided to write this. it will be a multichaptered fic and i will update it as soon as i've finished writing the chapters lmao. inspired by the song "jaded" by miley cyrus. pls pls pls enjoy

summary: fresh off of his breakup with claire, carmy needs a rebound. he just doesn't expect it to be his pastry chef.

masterlist | chapter 2

It starts with a ride home after service.

The sun had fallen down over the horizon, painting Chicago black with night. It’s chilly, middle of February, and you and Carmy are the only ones left at the restaurant. You’re both at the lockers, grabbing the last of your things and turning off the last few lights, leaving it behind you as you step out into the darkness of the street. Only amber lights are above you, illuminating Carmy’s face, along with the glow of his lighter around his cigarette. “How are you getting home?” He asks, looking down the alleyway. “Just the train,” you reply, gesturing towards the station a few blocks down the road. “Let me drive you,” he smushes the cigarette underneath the toe of his shoe, looking up at you, rather softly. “Oh, it’s not far,” you try to step the other way, before he grabs your shoulder lightly. “It’s cold, and fuckin’ dark, and there’s murderers. Just let me drive you home.” He was nothing if not protective. 

It really had been a short drive, slow tunes coming from his old car’s radio, drowned out by the sounds of the city around you. It was generally silent, Carmy’s hand on the gear shift. “It’s just up here,” you gesture to the building up the street. “Just take a right.” He does, obeying your action, pulling up in front of a 3-floored walk-up. “Thanks,” you grab your backpack by your feet, opening the door and giving him a small look before stepping out. “Hey, listen,” you start. His eyes are dark, sunken, tired. He’s wearing his usual wool jacket around a cozy navy blue sweater. “I was working on something before work this morning. A… a dish. Can I show you really quick? And you can tell me what you think?” He looked at the time on his phone, and then up at you. Baby blue eyes, peering from under thick lashes. “Sure, chef,” he says quietly as he puts his car in park and unbuckles the seatbelt. 

When you walk him up to your apartment, he’s endeared. You let him in, and your place smells of vanilla candles and laundry, from the load you’d done before work earlier that day. “Sorry about the mess,” you gestured to small pile of plates and spoons in the sink, and the aforementioned unfolded laundry on the couch. “You’d lose your mind if you saw my place if you think this is mess,” he laughed, pushing a hand through his soft golden hair. Your own coat comes off as you make your way into the kitchen, and he has to stop himself from staring. Your tight jeans fit your body perfectly, white t-shirt coming up over your hips only enough for him to see a dark tattoo on the back of your hip. You poured him a cup of cold water and put it in front of him, before firing up the burner on your stove and putting a stainless steel pan on the orange-blue flame. “Make yourself at home.”

He wandered around your apartment a bit, peering into your bedroom. Soft white bed, soft sheets, big fluffed pillows. An open window, letting a chilly breeze in, curtains slightly swaying with the night air. It reminds him of her, her soft sheets, big eyes, the nights he slept next to Claire and kissed her supple cheeks and pink lips. She was like this too; eager, clean, happy, simple. Easy to be with, and easy to like. You’d given off a similar energy the same day you walked into the restaurant on your first day, and you had reminded him of her. Kind eyes, warm presence, but with a different demeanour that chefs almost always had. A jaggedness, he thought. 

The sound of the plates being put on your small kitchen table snapped him out of his daydreams, as you held out a fork for him. “It’s a, uh, mango custard, bit of toasted cardamom and coconut cream in there, and, um, a coconut macaroon with a homemade chutney.” He raises his eyebrows at the dish before him, plated beautifully, and takes a small bite of each component. You seem to wait for hours as he takes his time, feeling every ingredient on his tongue before setting down his fork on the small white plate. “It’s tremendous, chef,” he says quietly, wiping the corner of his mouth. “Almost perfect. Could use maybe an acid, it’s a little sweet, but, wow,” he looks up at you to see your wide eyes, excited at his answer. This was, essentially, the highest praise from Carmy you could get. “Thank you,” you say quietly, watching as he takes another forkful of the dessert. 

“What’s the tattoo on your hip?” he asks, pointing at the right side of your body, where your shirt had ridden up before. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since he caught a glimpse. “Oh, um,” your cheeks turned a soft shade of red, standing up to lift up your shirt and show him. “It’s, uh, a snake. It goes down my leg too,” you pull down the waistband of your jeans just enough to show him a bit more of the ink, further exposing the thin strap of the black thong you had on. “Got it a long time ago, in school. Just wanted to feel cool I guess.” He stands up, slowly, coming to lightly pin you against the counter. It’s safe, it’s easy, and suddenly it feels so fucking right to have him here under the dim kitchen light. “Can I see the rest of it?”

All bets are off, then. Your jeans are pooled around your ankles in a second as he’s feverishly kissing your lips, hands everywhere, his calloused palms against your soft ass. His sweater is off, along with his signature white tee, showing off the glistening gold chain against his bare chest. You’ve managed to push his jeans down just enough to slide a hand into his waist band, eliciting a soft, breathy moan from him into your mouth.

When you stumble back into your bedroom, it’s all a blur. It’s hot skin against hot skin, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along your neck as his hands work their way in between your wet folds. They’re so gentle, yet he knows what he’s doing, so the slow circles on your clit as he lets himself rut against you are making you unbelievably wet for him. “I want you so fucking badly,” he pants into your ear, letting a finger easily plunge into you as you open your legs wider for him. “Is this a good idea, Carmy?” you let your fingers thread through his hair, allowing him to look up at you. His usual baby blues were dark again, lustful and wanton. “No,” he says matter-of-factly, but the smirk on his lips is so unbelievable, a cruel man above you. “Should we do it anyways?” You ask, your own smile playing on the corners of your mouth, allowing your hips to rut against his fingers, fucking yourself to feel more of him. He takes a large hand to your breast, letting it slide up, thumb slipping onto your lower lip and into your mouth. “Yeah… yeah, of course we fucking should.”

It’s so easy with him, which is what makes it so hard. He knows right where to kiss, where to touch, where to love on your body. He knows to take his hands to your sides, pushing you into the mattress as he laps at your clit and kisses your inner thighs, looking up and watching you take your own tits in your hands, squeezing them together, looking down at him with such need. He knows to slide up between your legs, and to cradle your neck in his hand, his thick cock plunging into you and making you weak, making his thumb wet with his own spit and bringing you to your orgasm, spasming around him, moaning his name into his mouth like a prayer. It doesn’t take much longer after that for him to spill inside of you, warm and deep, lips locked around his as you helped him ride his orgasm out. And it feels right, and real, when he lays next to you and kisses your chest and arms before falling into a deep sleep, your soft comforter over his chest. It all feels so fucking right, that first time.

But the next morning, all you have is an empty bed. And it doesn’t feel right anymore.

[mythicalmisery]

Pyrophilia AU: GhostxSoap

AO3

The bar was a warm refuge from the damp chill of the night, a place where the team could forget the aftermath of the mission for a few hours. Ghost stood beside Soap at the bar, nursing his drink while they waited on the rest of their order. The low light washed over the balaclava he had pulled up over his nose so he could take an occasional sip. Soap was next to him, the upbeat chatter of the bar mixing with the soft clink of glasses and the hum of conversation. 

The mission had gone well- no casualties and the base they’d targeted was nothing but smoldering rubble now. 

But Goat’s mind lingered on something. Soap had gone dark during the extraction, his comms dead until they’d regrouped at the exfil point. He let the silence stretch between them for a moment longer, watching the sergeant from the corner of his eye before speaking. 

“What happened on the mission?”

Soap, already a couple of drinks in, gave him a puzzled look. “What do ye mean?”

“Ya went dark after ya set the charges. Comms were off ’til ya got to exfil.” Ghost’s tone was calm, but there was a weight behind it that had Soap on edge now.

Soap blinked, clearly caught off guard. He opened his mouth before closing it once again as his scotch-soaked brain tried to find the words. Running his hand through his mohawk, he turned back to him with a shrug. “Must’ve been an equipment malfunction. I’ll take my radio to tech in the mornin’, get it checked out.”

Ghost narrowed his eyes, though his expression remained hidden. He didn’t believe him, not fully at least. Soap’s tone was too casual, too rehearsed, but Ghost knew better than to push. If Soap was lying, he’d figure it out eventually. Backing the man in a corner was just gonna have him lashing out and turning on the defensive. 

“Right,” was all he said, letting the matter drop for now. But his mind wouldn’t stop running over it. Soap didn’t lie to him. Not his sergeant. 

Their drinks finally came, and both men headed back to the corner booth where Price and Gaz were already seated. The minutes passed, the men taking turns to take the piss out of each other and finally relax after a grueling two weeks of recon. Ghost stayed mostly quiet, content to observe. But his focus kept drifting back to Soap, to that nagging feeling something wasn’t right. 

As the laughter filled the booth, Ghost absently reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his old zippo lighter. The cool metal had become a comfort of late, something to ground him when his thoughts spiraled. He flipped it open, the quiet click soothing, his thumb flicking the wheel to produce a small, steady flame. He didn’t smoke as much as he used to, one every now and then after a particularly stressful mission, but the ritual had become second nature, a habit more than anything else. 

He wasn’t the only one watching the flame. 

Across the table, Soap’s gaze had zeroed in on his lighter, eyes fixated in a way Ghost hadn’t seen before. At least now that he was actively looking for something. It was like the man’s breath hitched every time the flame flickered to life, his focus unnaturally sharp on the glowing ember. Gaz said something to Soap, drawing him away, but Ghost noticed the slight shift in his body language, the way his fingers twitched around his glass as if resisting the urge to reach out. 

Ghost’s brow furrowed beneath his mask, and a slow realization crept up on him. He flicked the zippo shut, a quiet clink, and slid it back into his pocket, mind already working overtime. Soap hadn’t taken his eyes off that lighter the entire time. The sudden bang of the alley door slamming open as the bartender returned from his break had his thoughts returning to reality. The action sending a gust of cool Autumn air through the bar, snuffing out the hollowed candle on the table. 

Call it divine intervention, but it gave Ghost the perfect chance to test his theory. With a quiet metallic clink, he flicked his zippo open again, and Soap’s attention snapped back to him like a well-trained dog. Ghost lit the candle in silence, his eyes sharp as he observed every twitch in Soap’s expression.

The man didn’t even blink, his gaze locked on the small flame as if mesmerized, a faint tremor running through him. When Ghost leaned back in his seat, still watching him, he noticed the subtle shift in Soap’s posture— the tension in his frame, the way he readjusted himself.

It hit Ghost like a freight train.

Fucking pyrophiliac. 

He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, but then his thoughts snapped back to the mission and everything he knew about the man. The pieces clicked into place, and his blood ran hot with anger. Soap had turned off his comms not because of an equipment malfunction or to take a piss or any other sorry excuse, but because he’d detonated the charges, and…

The fucker got off on it. 

Ghost’s grip tightened around the lighter, his jaw clenching beneath the mask. How the fuck had he not figured it out sooner? He remembered desperately shouting Soap’s name over the comms, only to be met with silence— his mind spiraling into the worst possibilities. The fear had consumed him until he spotted that familiar mop of hair leaning against the wall at exfil, and finally, he could breathe again. And all of that because the so-called demolitions expert was getting his rocks off?

Soap flinched when Ghost snapped the zippo shut a little too harshly, the sound sharp and deliberate. Ghost pocketed the lighter and slid out of the booth, the leather cushion creaking under his weight. His movements were calm and measured as his eyes remained locked on Soap. He pinned the man where he sat like a helpless insect, watching every nervous shift, every flicker of unease that crossed his face. He knew Ghost was angry, but not what for. 

“I’m goin’ for a smoke,” Ghost said flatly, the words heavy with something unsaid, a warning hidden beneath the surface laid there for only Soap to pick up on. 

Price looked up from his drink, grumbling about the mountain of paperwork still waiting for him back at base. “Aye, best be heading back soon before it starts raining,” he muttered, gathering his things. Gaz downed the last of his pint, shaking his head as he mentioned early morning drills.

Soap slid out of the booth after them, clearly rattled but keeping quiet as Price and Gaz said their goodbyes. He lingered, letting the others leave as if waiting for some kind of cue. Ghost didn’t give him one—he just stood there, silent and still, his presence as oppressive as the storm rolling in outside.

When the others were finally out of earshot, Ghost turned to Soap, his voice cutting through the space between them like a knife. “Ya care to join me, Johnny?”

Soap hesitated only for a second, knowing full well it wasn’t a question. He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor before giving a reluctant nod. “Aye,” he muttered, his voice stripped of its usual cocky edge, though he made one last desperate attempt to play it cool. His posture had gone rigid like he was walking into something he wasn’t prepared for, but without a word of protest, he followed Ghost out the back door.

The alleyway was damp and shadowed, the smell of rain lingering in the air. Ghost lit his cigarette, the flicker of his zippo casting long shadows on the brick walls where it illuminated his mask. Still silent, he exhaled a plume of smoke into the air, his eyes trained on his sergeant. 

Soap shifted uncomfortably, glancing around like he was trying to find something, anything, to break the silence. But Ghost could feel the weight of his nerves, the way he kept stealing glances at the lighter still in Ghost’s hand.

After a moment, Ghost finally spoke, his voice low and edged with cold amusement. “So… ya wanna tell me what really happened back there?”

Soap froze, caught like a deer in the headlights, and for the first time in a long while, Ghost saw him stripped of his bravado. 

Soap leaned against the cold brick wall, his hands stuffed in his pockets, trying to appear casual as he spoke. “I already told ye, I dunno what happened to my comms,” he muttered, keeping his tone as neutral as possible. 

Ghost took a slow drag from his cigarette, as he looked up at the sky. He nodded slightly, but there was something cold, calculating in his gaze when he turned back toward his sergeant. In the blink of an eye, the space between them vanished. Ghost had Soap pinned against the brick wall, his forearm pressed hard against Soap’s throat. 

“Fuck—” Soap barely had time to react, the force of the shove knocking the breath out of him. Anger flared instantly, his voice rising in protest. “What the fuck are ye doin’?” His hands instinctively gripped Ghost’s arm, trying to push him off, his fiery temper returning in full force. This wasn’t the hesitant, unsure man from earlier. This was his sergeant— his Johnny — coming back with a bite. 

But Ghost wasn’t fazed. He stared down at Soap, his eyes dark, the harsh grip tightening. With his free hand, he pulled out the zippo and flicked it open, the flame crackling to life mere inches from Soap’s face. The heat licked at his skin, the flames dancing dangerously close. Ghost cocked his head to the side, a cruel smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“No?” Ghost’s voice was low, taunting. “It didn’t have anything to do with your little secret?” His tone dripped with amusement, each word pressing heavier than the arm keeping Soap pinned in place.

Soap’s eyes were drawn to the flame, his breath quickening despite himself. It took every ounce of willpower to tear his gaze away from the fire threatening to singe his eyelashes. He locked eyes with Ghost, his expression hardening as anger flashed beneath the surface. “I don’t know what the fuck yer talkin’ about,” he bit out, his voice sharp with defiance.

Ghost chuckled darkly, the sound a sharp contrast to the tension in the air. It wasn’t just a laugh—it was a taunt, a challenge. “Don’t play dumb with me, Johnny.” Boldened by Soap’s stubbornness and his own growing irritation, Ghost decided to escalate the situation. He took a long drag from his cigarette, then leaned closer, blowing the smoke directly into Soap’s face, his breath hot against the sergeant’s skin.

As the smoke swirled between them, Ghost’s voice dropped to a whisper that sent a chill down Soap’s spine. “I think ya know exactly what I’m talkin’ about, Johnny.” His free hand drifted down, brushing over the front of Soap’s jeans. 

Soap cursed under his breath at the sudden touch, his body betraying him with a shudder of heat and adrenaline. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, fury warring with the embarrassment that was already flooding his face. His voice was tight, the words forced through gritted teeth. “Ghost, what the fuck—“

But there was no denying what Ghost felt beneath his hand, and Soap’s body betrayed his mind. The tension in the air crackled as Ghost leaned in closer, his lips brushing Soap’s ear, his words mocking and satisfied. 

“Always knew ya were a firebug, MacTavish.”

Ghost didn’t give Soap much time to react. He watched the man weakly stammer a defense, “I… I didn’t—”

But before Soap could finish, Ghost’s hand closed, grabbing him harshly by the front of his jeans. The pressure made Soap’s breath catch, the words dying in his throat. Ghost’s voice was low, laced with cold disdain. “I think I’m done listenin’ to your lies, Sergeant.”

Soap’s resolve crumbled as the truth bore down on him. “I’m sorry…” he muttered, his voice barely audible under the strain of Ghost’s grip.

Ghost clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Twelve minutes, Johnny. Twelve fuckin’ minutes I didn’t know if ya were alive because you’re so pathetic ya couldn’t keep it in your pants till we got back to base.”

Without warning, Ghost yanked open the button on Soap’s jeans, the metallic sound of the zipper being dragged down echoing in the tight alleyway. Soap’s hands reflexively clawed at Ghost’s forearm, trying to find purchase, but there was no real resistance. If he wanted, he could’ve fought back, but the lack of effort only stoked the fire in Ghost’s eyes egging him on. 

Ghost spat out the remnants of his cigarette onto the dirty ground, grinding the embers beneath his boot. His hand paused at the waistband of Soap’s boxers, his voice quiet but commanding. “Grab my pack from my pocket.”

Soap blinked, caught off guard. “What?” His confusion was met with a sudden, painful yank on his mohawk, slamming him back against the wall.

“Grab me a cigarette, and light it, Johnny,” Ghost growled.

Soap hesitated, a mix of fear and anticipation flickering in his eyes before he shakily reached into Ghost’s jacket pocket. His fingers fumbled as they retrieved the small white box. He shook one free and held it up to Ghost’s mouth, his hand slightly trembling as Ghost’s lips closed around it.

“Light it,” Ghost ordered, his voice muffled by the cigarette between his teeth. 

Soap reached into his other pocket, pulling out the familiar zippo. His hands were a bit more steady as he brought the lighter up, the flame flickering to life, illuminating Ghost’s face in the dim alley. At that exact moment, Ghost slipped his hand under Soap’s boxers, gripping him firmly. The touch burned like an iron brand against Soap’s skin in the cold night air.

Soap tried to steady his breathing, his body betraying him once again as a puff of smoke from Ghost’s cigarette had him blinking through watering eyes. Ghost exhaled slowly, his gaze predatory. “Twelve minutes ‘til this cigarette goes out. Twelve minutes ya gotta last.”

Soap’s eyes widened in horror. “Ye can’t be serious, Lt. I’ll barely last three.”

Ghost’s hand tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, their faces only inches apart. “Ya need some fuckin’ endurance trainin’, MacTavish. Now start countin’. Miss a minute, and I’ve got a whole pack left.”

Soap groaned a pitiful sound that only made Ghost’s smirk grow. The groan turned into a whimper as Ghost’s hand began moving in slow, deliberate strokes. Soap tried to focus, forcing himself to count the seconds, but it was torture—the unforgiving touch, the sting of smoke in his throat, the weight of his lieutenant’s gaze.

It became a battle, Soap struggling to school his reactions while Ghost taunted him between each minute mark. “Seventh minute,” Soap gasped out, his voice strained. His eyes flicked downward as Ghost casually flipped the zippo open again, the small flame dancing between them, a constant reminder of what had Soap unraveling.

“Is this what does it for ya, Johnny?” Ghost’s voice was low and mocking. Soap could only nod, his teeth sinking into his lip to keep from moaning, every stroke of Ghost’s hand driving him closer to the edge. It wasn’t lost on him that they were technically in public, anyone strolling by could see them and it only made him harder.

Ghost’s cruelty knew no bounds, working Soap up only to pull back at the last second, teasing him until he was nothing more than a shaking mess. Something about seeing one of the strongest soldiers he knew falling about from merely his hand had his own pants turning uncomfortably tight. “You’ve always been this fucked in the head, Sergeant?” Ghost murmured, a wicked twist of his wrist making Soap choke on the air fighting its way into his lungs.

“A-aye…” Soap breathed, barely able to get the word out before he remembered to call out the eighth minute.

The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity. Soap’s body trembled, overwhelmed by the relentless torment Ghost was putting him through. “Fuck… you,” he managed to grind out between gasps, his voice hoarse and desperate.

Ghost’s grip on him tightened sharply, eliciting another whimper from Soap. His tone was cutting, full of amusement. “Now I’m pretty sure the only one who’s justified in being pissed off here is me, Johnny. You’re the one who couldn’t contain himself, and now you’re complainin’ when I take care of ya? Ungrateful slag.”

Soap bit down hard on his lip till it broke skin, his mind spinning, barely able to keep track of the countdown. Ghost’s hand never let up, and Soap’s body was betraying him in every way possible, completely under his lieutenant’s control. The flame flickered dangerously close between them, both their breaths threatening to snuff it out, but neither daring to move away.

The eleventh-minute left Soap barely holding on, his body trembling, a trail of sweat running down his neck as he struggled to breathe. His lips parted, eyes locked on Ghost’s, and the words spilled out, raw and desperate. “Burn me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but the conviction behind it unmistakable. Ghost’s eyes bore into him, unreadable. Soap’s heart pounded in his chest, but he couldn’t stop. “Please… burn me,” he begged, sounding so desperate it made his stomach twist with both need and shame.

Ghost’s hand paused, the zippo still burning brightly between them. His eyes narrowed, studying Soap as if deciding whether to indulge him. Then, in a swift motion, he closed the lighter with a soft click and slipped it back into his pocket.

Soap whined at the sudden absence, his frustration palpable, but Ghost’s lips curled in a quiet, taunting hush. “Not yet,” Ghost said, his tone dripping with cold authority he reserved for in the field. “Not until you’re completely mine.”

Soap swallowed down the disappointment, forcing himself to call out the final countdown, his voice shaking. “Twelve…”

Ghost didn’t hesitate. His hand sped up, the relentless strokes drawing Soap to the edge of madness, leaving him hanging in a torturous limbo of pleasure and pain. Soap’s mouth fell open, ready to moan or cuss the man out, but Ghost surged forward, capturing his lips in a brutal, possessive kiss. The world narrowed to nothing but the taste of smoke, heat, and the burning press of Ghost’s mouth on his.

Ghost pushed his dying cigarette between Soap’s lips with his tongue, the glowing bud scorching Soap’s tongue, a small, searing pain that had him flinching. Soap whimpered into the kiss, moans swallowed by Ghost as his body finally surrendered, shaking as he came apart in Ghost’s hand, unable to hold back any longer.

Ghost didn’t let up. His strokes continued, tipping Soap into overstimulation, the pleasure too much, edging on painful as the man’s body twitched helplessly in Ghost’s grip. It wasn’t until Soap spat the cigarette stump out onto the ground that Ghost finally pulled away, leaving Soap trembling and half-broken, gasping for air.

Ghost’s fingers gripped Soap’s jaw roughly, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Show me,” he demanded.

Soap’s eyes, glassy and tear-filled, met Ghost’s as he obediently stuck out his tongue. Ghost’s gaze dropped to the blistering burn left by the cigarette bud, the skin red and angry. It would be a bitch to deal with for two weeks but it wouldn’t leave any permanent scarring. His thumb brushed over the spot, pressing down deliberately. Soap flinched, hissing in pain as he tried to pull back, but Ghost held him in place, a satisfied, dark gleam in his eyes.

Ghost’s voice was a low, dangerous growl. “Next time ya do somethin’ that reckless,” he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against Soap’s ear, “I’ll drag ya into the captain’s office and dole out your punishment while he watches just how much of a fuckin’ whore his Sergeant really is.”

Soap shuddered, the threat sinking into his bones as Ghost pulled away, his eyes raking over him one last time, taking in the disheveled, debauched state he’d left him in—pants undone, the aftermath of their encounter staining his shirt.

Ghost swung the back door open, the sounds of the bar spilling out into the quiet alleyway. “Clean yourself up and get back before curfew.”

Without another word, Ghost turned and left him standing there, half-leaning against the brick wall, body aching, and head spinning. Soap’s breath hitched, his mind reeling from everything that had just happened. He tilted his head back against the cold wall, eyes closed, a whispered “fuck me” escaping his lips as the night closed in, leaving him utterly alone.

[hwasdvlly]

Happy Hollow-ween | c.san

↠ summary: a classic yet fun activity for the season is to carve a pumpkin.

↠ pairing: san x fem!reader

↠ genres: family, fluff, and slice of life

↠ word count: 0.6k words

↠ warnings/tags: none. established relationship, idol!san, non-idol!reader, married couple, sannie is husband/father material

↠ a/n: yesss!! another of the choi family which is personally one of my fav writings

“Appa! I want this one!”

“Isn’t that a bit huge? It’s bigger than your head, Mimi.”

The beloved Choi Family are at the pumpkin patch, where they’ll find the perfect ones to carve. It’s the autumn season, too. The weather has cooled down, and everyone dressed in cozy outfits. 

San picks up a pumpkin that his baby is pointing at. He grunts and uses his strength from those gym workouts because it is heavy. “Y/N! What do you think?!” He calls over his wife, who is busy taking pictures of the lovely area. You turn your attention to your husband and see him struggling with the object. You let a giggle, “It’s almost the same size as The Great Pumpkin from Charlie Brown.” You walk up to the love of your life and your little angel. You assumed it was Sangmi’s choice. 

“Okay, I guess we’re taking it.” San tries to look strong, but, for real, his arms are about to break. You know your hubby by heart that he’ll act differently to impress you and Sangmi. 

“Do you need help, Sannie?” You snickered. San didn’t hesitate to deny it. “Nope! Nope! I got this!” The man waddles his way to the parking lot. Sangmi holds your hand. “Appa looks funny.” She laughs at her penguin dad. “You know how appa is, aegi (baby).” You tell your little girl. San will do anything for his angel. 

Once they arrived home, the Choi Family layered old newspapers on the balcony. San and Sangmi are wearing matching Halloween shirts and plaid sweats. You came out of the kitchen after unboxing the utensils to check on your family. 

“Gotta scrape all of the guts out. Like how you pick your nose.” San makes an absurd comparison. 

“Ew! Appa! I don’t pick my nose.” Sangmi rebutted and giggled heartily. 

The man smirks, “Oh, you don’t? Then what’s this?” He reaches over to tap Sangmi’s button nose. She continues to laugh her head off. You melted by the sound of her angelic voice. Maybe she will become a singer like her dad. You joined the duo by helping them scrape the pumpkin guys. 

San sighed tiredly, “Why did she choose this one? It’s going to take ages to carve.” He spoke in a low voice to prevent Sangmi from hearing his complaint. You replied, “Well, you did make a promise to her the moment she was born.” You looked at him with a knowing look. “Promises can’t be broken, I guess.” San meets your gaze, and he shows his cute pout. 

No matter what age or how long you’ve known this man, he is forever a sulky child. 

“Alright! We are done!” San cheers because it did take ages. 

You went to sit with Sangmi and wipe her messy hands clean. “How do you want to carve the pumpkin, Mimi?” You asked. 

“Can we do Kuromi?” She looks at her parents with the prettiest cat-like eyes. How can anyone say no to that? 

San nods his head with a wide smile. “Yes! I like that idea.” He agrees with his daughter. 

When it comes to arts & crafts, San will do it as if it’s a major task. Even though Sangmi wouldn’t mind if it came out ugly, her appa doesn’t accept imperfections. 

The hours went by, and the day was now night. 

You grabbed a small candle to light up. “Here, sweetheart. Our masterpiece won’t be complete without this.” You handed it to Sangmi. She holds the candle and uses her tiny arms to reach inside the top of the carved pumpkin. She places it in the middle before San grabs the lighter.

“Watch baby. This is a magical moment.” He turns it on, and the flame burns the wick. 

Sangmi’s face brightens like the Kuromi pumpkin. “It’s pretty!” She claps her hands. 

San shifts his body to the masterpiece in front of him. “Appa did good, right?” He gives you and Sangmi a smug expression.

You rolled your eyes yet smiled at your self-righteous husband. Sangmi just happily nodded to indicate that her appa did a beautiful job.