#and shapes your understanding and take on him

[burrowdarling]

Take It Easy

Summary: With everything that's gone on this season, you decided Joe deserved some much needed time away.

Pairings: Joe Burrow x gf!reader

Warnings: implied smut minors DNI

Note: Hi! I was finally able to get around to the request from this anon. I hope you enjoy it! Some good ole bye-week comfort with some steam.

Word Count: 2k

Check out my Masterlist here!

It had taken quite a fair bit of convincing, but you were all packed up heading a few hours away to a cabin with a couple other guys from the team and their significant others. Joe was beside you in the driver's seat, making you passenger with Sam and Jess passed out in the back. Evan and Gracie were in another car about 15 minutes ahead. Your trunk was filled with all of the supplies you could possibly need for the weekend with a few more hours on the road ahead of you. 

After how you’d seen Joe beat himself up this past week, you knew you had to do something to take his mind off of things. A trip like this has been something you’d wanted to do for a bit, but the bye week felt like the right time to get everyone rest for the remainder of the season. Joe was reluctant at first, still heading to the facility at the start of the bye week, head strong and adamant that he needed to be doing everything he could to get the team in shape. You’d had to talk him through things, getting him to understand that his body needed a break and having a few of the guys could help him to talk to other people who would get it. He’d only agreed to a few days, but you still took that as a win in your book. 

You knew he was trying so hard, carrying so much weight of the team on his shoulders. It was a burden he could only hold alone for so long before it did him in. Joe didn’t relax much during any typical season, but this felt like a special exception to his strict routine. You were trying to drill into him that rest was just as productive and all of the other components he prides himself on.

Joe was lightly drumming along to the beat of the song softly playing from the speakers, your music left on shuffle from earlier in the drive. You were excited to get away with everyone, knowing the guys needed a break during the bye week and what better way to spend it than up in mountains unplugged for a few days. His right hand found its way to your thigh, light stroking you out of your thoughts. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Joe asked, glancing in your direction. He looked so soft like this, wearing a hoodie and sweats with his hair down. His expression was calm, any signs of stress that had been showing on his face weren’t currently evident. You hadn't gotten to see him like this much recently, taking him in while you had the chance. 

“I was just thinking about how nice this trip is going to be. I’m really glad you agreed to go, I wanted to be able to do something nice for you and figured this was a perfect time to go”.

Joe sighed, humming constantly as his hand gently squeezed your thigh three times. It was a signal you both can come up with during your early days of dating, a nonverbal way to say ‘I love you’ and a simple reminder you were there for that person. The gesture brought a small smile to your face.

“I’m glad we invited some of the guys, but I can’t wait until I can get you alone” Joe spoke, keeping his voice low in case anyone had woken up. His voice held a rasp and desire that would cause you to fold right there in any other circumstance.

You felt Joe's hand begin to climb your thigh, sliding closure to the apex of your thighs. You placed your hand on top of his, applying a bit of pressure to halt his movements.  

“Slow your roll cowboy, we're not even there yet” you spoke chuckling.

“Cowboy? I’d gladly save a horse and let you ride me any day” Joe said with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. He looked over at you, tipping his nonexistent hat to really seal the deal. You couldn’t help, but laugh at his antics. Joe

You lightly patted him on the shoulder, rolling your eyes in his direction with a smile on your face “yeah, yeah focus on the road so we get there in one piece”. 

“Yes ma’am” he said with a short nod, turning his attention back to the road ahead.

By the time you had arrived, it had gotten late and you all were ready to get everything in and turn in for the night. You tried to do everything as efficiently as possible, creating a system of the guys bringing everything while you and the girls got it all sorted out inside. Once the last thing was brought in, the guys began to explore the place you had booked. You tried to keep as much of it as a surprise for Joe as you could, keeping the details limited.

The cabin itself was nice, a cozy feel hitting you immediately. There were plenty of bedrooms for everyone, a pool table in the living room, finished with a fireplace. There would be plenty of room in the kitchen to cook for the weekend, opting to stay in as much as possible to really unwind. Downstairs there was a small room that led out to a patio hosting a hot tub, the main thing that had really sold you on this place specifically. You could tell by the vibe it was going to be a nice few days getaway with each other even if you weren’t completely alone. 

You and the girls got to cooking, the guys finding enjoyment out of the pool table. You could feel yourself getting lost in your thoughts again as your eyes fell on Joe, leaning against the table laughing and joking around with his friends. When it was his turn to play, he bent over and steadied the pool stick expertly between his fingers. Joe’s hands were always something that you had found attractive and this instance was no exception. You knew exactly what those hands were capable of, causing a shiver of desire to run down your spine. The look of focus on his face completed the narrative you were writing in your mind, making your thoughts not so innocent. 

You were snapped out of it by a bump to the hip by Gracie, coming back into the moment and food you were preparing in front of you. A knowing look had crossed her face followed by a wink as she went back to what she was doing.

“It’s good to see him with a smile on his face again” Jess said, you nodded in agreement. Joe’s happiness was contagious, leaving you to finish your cooking with a wide smile on your face.

Everyone finished up dinner, deciding to head to bed and be ready for the day ahead. 

“I really wanna go enjoy that hot tub before bed, we had such a long drive and it’d be nice to unwind just the two of us” 

“I’d like that, I also brought that one suit you really like” you said with a mischievous grin plastered across your face and you made your way down the hall to your room.

“The red one?” Joe called after you, sounding eager.

“You’ll just have to wait and see Burrow” you said, tossing his suit out and closing the door behind you.

By the time you made your way down to the hot tub, Joe was already there getting everything set. You stepped out onto the patio, the sounds of the door closing alerting Joe to your presence. Joe let out a low whistle at the sight of you, letting his eyes rake up and down your barely covered body.

“You’re absolutely breathtaking sweetheart” Joe said, extending his hand to help you get into the hot tub. 

“Thank you babe, you know I had to bring your favorite” you told him, stepping into the hot tub and letting out a moan at the sensation of hot water and got comfortable.

Joe got in after, settling on the opposite side of the tub and letting his shoulders drop at the feeling of hot water relaxing the tension in his muscles. He let his eyes close, fully submitting himself to relaxation, a groan escaping his lips. The sounds he was making had you clenching your thighs together, still feeling worked up from earlier. You loved seeing Joe when he got worked up, but you also loved these moments when he was able to be unguarded with you. 

“C’mere, I feel like you’re so far away from me” Joe said, lifting his arms out of the water to gesture you over.

You swam over next to him, gently pushing his shoulders to turn him to the side and settled your hands onto his shoulders. You began massaging his muscles, leaving tender kisses across the top of his back, hearing the soft sigh escape his lips.

“I know I don’t tell you enough, but I appreciate all that you do for me. You're my biggest supporter in my corner and I want you to know how loved you are. I know I don’t always show it ” Joe said quietly.

“Of course Joey, loving you is the easiest thing I have ever done. Watching you get to do what you love for a living every week is one of my favorite things. You go out on that field and put your entire soul into it. I know you’re doing everything you can Joey and I know everything will work out eventually” you said, hoping he would take on some of the confidence in your words.

Joe wordlessly spun you around to face him, lifting you onto his lap. His hands fell to your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze while your arms settled around his neck, your lips connecting in a passionate kiss. 

“I really don’t know what I'd do without you sweetheart. You’re my rock, my safe place, there’s no one else I’d rather come home to every night” Joe said, his lips finding your neck trailing kisses down to your collarbone. 

“I’m right there with you, Joey, you have no idea” your words trailing off as he continued his assault with his mouth, biting and sucking your throat to the possibility of leaving marks.

He used the leverage to ground you into his lap, feeling his growing erection beneath you. A gasp caught in your throat, Joe taking the opportunity to let his tongue find its way into your mouth, fighting for dominance.

“That feel good, baby? I want you to feel just what you do to me "Joe groaned out, eliciting a whimper from you.

This was the sweet friction you’d been craving from him all night, letting your head fall back as pleasure overtook you. This only spurred Joe on more, watching how he was able to make you feel as good as you were. Seeing you fall deeper into your desire only made Joe grind harder against your clothed center. It was getting harder and harder for him to control himself, his patience thinning. You brought your head back up, leaning in letting your lips ghosting over his ear as you spoke.

“I’ve been craving you all night Joey, i want you so badly” you lightly whined, nipping at his lobe.

Joe reacted as quick as he could, scooping you into his arms as he carried you out of the hot tub and into the house. You broke out into a fit of giggles at his movements, careful to keep your volume down for your housemates. The remainder of your night would be spent relaxing in a different way.

[visenyaism]

Tiny if you do a cartwheel you can hear it rattle around your skull like a marble brain: Mance Rayder is literally Rhaegar Targaryen

Functionally literate mind: As a bard in red and black silk who takes a father figure role towards Jon, it’s clear that Mance is a parallel to Rhaegar Targaryen. His story about them being kin through Bael the Bard, a wildling who steals away a Stark daughter with his music and had a secret child with her whose obliviousness about his heritage was his undoing, is obvious foreshadowing.

Cutting-edge knife-shaped smart brain: while Mance does exist to foreshadow Jon being a Targaryen, the real significance of his character as a parallel to Jon is about self-actualization. He turns his cloak by making his own. Jusy like Jon, at the end of the day, despite taking oaths and despite everyone telling him who he is, he cannot be anyone but himself. He must go home. This might foreshadow Jon finding out he is a Targaryen, but also provides some pretty clear evidence that’s not going to be deterministic of who he is. He’s going to forge his own path, likely with the wildlings, likely becoming king beyond the wall, a role he already takes on implicitly in adwd.

Brain so huge your thematic understanding literally eclipses your ability to accurately and rationally predict the plot: Jon Snow being a Targaryen is a Bael the Bard reference and not the other way around.

[figurantedefilme]

— boyfriend!sam winchester headcanons.

pairing: sam winchester x gn!reader

summary: how sam would act if he were your boyfriend.

cw: friends to lovers, some details of romantic relationships, brief mentions of fighting, but lots of cuteness. poorly edited.

a/n: hiiii, so, these are some of my hcs of how sam would be dating his best friend ;)) these headcanons were very inspired by some of my favorite writers!! english isn't my first language. enjoy it ♡

— send me a request!! <3

▪︎ before you started dating, you were best friends, you did everything together. you were always in love with each other, you just hadn't realized it yet.

▪︎ dean always teased you about it, especially sam, saying he was too slow to not realize the obvious, you, of course, ignored it completely, thinking that the other didn't feel the same way or that you would never have the chance.

▪︎ after, this became difficult, hiding the heart-shaped looks whenever the other looked away, always trying to disguise it but failing miserably.

▪︎ sometimes you shared a bed and by some chance you woke up hugging or with your legs intertwined and this resulted in almost an entire day of tension, you barely talking to each other or making eye contact until you intended that nothing happened and continued to be the same as always. but then, unable to bear having to hide all this "unrequited" love any longer, one of you tries to distance yourself, thinking that these feelings could ruin your friendship and you don't want to lose each other's affection.

▪︎ this ends up leaving the other confused, thinking that they did something wrong, and doing everything to understand what is happening. after all this confusion, you understand each other, talk and finally confess your feelings to each other.

"i thought you hated me."

"i could never hate you, sammh. it's just that my love for you is so great that i couldn't stand being around you anymore."

"i ove you too, i'm so relieved about that, but promise me that you'll never hide anything again, no matter what it is."

"i promise."

▪︎ ever since you started dating, he always needs to touch you in some way, whether it's intimately or just holding your hand on a cold night. with that, know that he will never be able to sleep well again if he is not hugging you or at least with an arm around you.

▪︎ over time, he began to show his clingy side, sometimes needy just for your touch, your hands in his, or his somewhere on you, usually an arm on your shoulders or a hand on your hips.

▪︎ he also likes to always tell you how beautiful you are, that he loves you and how much you matter to him. even if he doesn't say it directly, he always tries to show it by doing something for you, even if it's small things like picking up your change of clothes when you take a shower, or when you're sick, he's by your side, available for whatever you need, buying you a drink that you like at the coffee shop, buying you a book that he knows you would like to read or simply paying attention when you talk, and making mental notes about little things that you do or like.

▪︎ he definitely loves it when you reciprocate or do similar things, in your way of showing your love for him.

▪︎ he won't admit it, but he feels so good when he sees you wearing his shirt, and how big it looks on you. he thinks the height difference between you is cute and sometimes he gets annoying.

▪︎ he's become more overprotective, but he tries not to suffocate you. this has also made him more worried about you during hunts, and the same goes for you.

▪︎ sometimes you fight because of his overprotectiveness, sometimes he doesn't want to let you go on a hunt because he thinks it's too dangerous and you get upset. dean tries to give sam advice about how he should stop trying to exclude you because you're too strong and can handle yourself, so he apologizes later and you're still a little upset, but then everything works out and everything's fine.

▪︎ dating sam can be complicated sometimes, especially as hunters, but you always support each other and know that everything will work out.

[bratbarzal]

On My Side (NH13)

Pairing: Nico "I think the hockey gods were on my side" Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy

WC: 6k

part of the On Your Side universe

*This is a bonus chapter set after the ending of the overall fic, and can be read as a standalone if you haven't read the fic, but if you want to understand their dynamic and Poppy's personality a little more, you should!!!

Description: 18+ MDNI, Nico comes home to Poppy after scoring his first ever career hat-trick for the Devils. Way more fluff than smut but Nico is down bad as always.

A/N: You're all a bunch of enablers and that's all I have to say on the matter!!! Hope this fills the void while I continue to struggle with chapter ten lmao there is mention of Baby Cheeto in here but no spoilers for her name. Nico calls her Bug as a nickname, like _____-Bug, Chäferli (little bug) or just Bug for short, but it isn't her actual name. I can't use Cheeto forever lmao. I was literally trying to think of a title and remembered he said the words "on my side" WHAT IF I TOLD YOU HE'S A MASTERMIND he's an oys!truther if I ever saw one! Painfully obsessed with Poppy if you ask me. Also the way Cheeto would rock the heck out of this it's so cute I had to share

Nico Hischier likes to think he’s a patient man.

Finally scoring his first career hat-trick after 8 years in the NHL, after 476 games played with the Devils, would be the ultimate testament to that.

Doing so in the first ever game with his daughter in attendance - on home turf, his mother and Poppy holding her up in the family suite during warm-ups in her little Devils teddy sleeper that he can only just make out from down on the ice, but has his rampant heart beating out of his chest all the same - has him thinking that maybe, after all those years, after all those games, the stars had been aligning for him the whole time. 

And it was that sort of patience he had tried to tune into since the end of the second period, when he knew Poppy had left early to try skip traffic and get their little girl home safe for bed.

It’s what he tries to channel in the aftermath of the game, swarmed by reporters in the locker room, trying to remain polite and professional, not rushing them through their questions or giving half-assed answers - knowing he owes a lot more than that to the organisation that has allowed him to get this far. Trying to save just a speck of energy to give when he finally gets home, collapsing into the warm embrace of the girls he knows are waiting patiently for him.

It’s what he holds onto when he has to take a detour on his way home, dropping his mom off at her hotel and trying not to visibly squirm in his seat as she regales him with stories of how his daughter had captured the hearts of everyone she encountered, swallowing down the slight jealousy that he hadn’t been there to see it and clinging to the fact that he had his own success elsewhere in the night - success that played second fiddle in his own mother’s eyes to the experience of sharing her granddaughter’s first ever game with her, an experience he had to endure twice as she called his father from his car, deep chuckles ringing through the speakers as he tried to get a word in edge ways beyond her excitement.

It’s what has him shaking with anticipation as he almost skips down the hall to their apartment, mustering up the rest of his energy to walk into their home without the weight of the world on his shoulders, leaving any doubt, any insecurity, any lingering self-deprecation at the door so he can bask in this moment with the two hearts that are shaped entirely to fit him into them.

And it’s what has him shaking off whatever disappointment tries to creep in when he sees his little girl asleep in Poppy’s arms, knowing whatever tiny part of her he will ever get will always be enough - even if her big, glassy eyes aren’t looking up at him, even if he doesn’t come home to one of those heart-stopping beaming smiles she has started to give to him whenever he enters the room - her being here, sleeping safely in the arms of her beautiful mother, and him getting to come home to whatever version of them he can, is more than he could ever ask for.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the hat-trick hero.” Poppy’s soft voice carries to him as he makes his way over, dropping his bag on the floor and keys on the counter, heading straight to where she is now standing and pressing a kiss to her waiting lips. “Hi, handsome.”

“She didn’t wanna say goodnight to her daddy, huh?” He tries not to sound too dejected - he’s supposed to be on a high, after all - but after half an hour of his mother unintentionally bragging about all the attention she had been giving to her Gromi all night, he can’t help the slight sag of his shoulders - especially knowing that she’s going to be spending the morning with his mom tomorrow, too.

“Sorry, baby, we watched a little of you on the TV and then she got hangry,” Nico finds himself hypnotised by her still figure, enamoured with the way she exudes sheer calmness. The smile that creeps up on his lips seems to do so by muscle memory - a dopey kind of smile he’s probably had plastered on his face since she came into the world kicking and screaming 2 months ago, a smile permanently etched into his features from probably even before that. “I promise I tried to keep her up, she literally fell asleep on my boob.” Poppy whispers, watching with warm, glittery eyes as Nico takes in the sight of his two favourite people in front of him - Poppy already changed into one of his shirts, settled for the night, and his baby girl all cosy in her little teddy bear onesie, pacifier bobbing between her plush little lips.

“Look at her hat,” he pouts, running a finger along the folded seam of the way-too-big beanie Poppy has perched on top of her head, the knit fabric falling just short of her closed eyes. “That’s adorable.”

“Your mom put it on her before we left,” Poppy chuckles lightly, “Wanted to keep it on until you got home, we had to celebrate the hatty properly.” Her brows raise as if gesturing to the bill of the cap on her own head, one of his, he’s sure - no doubt stolen from their closet as soon as she got home.

“My little good luck charm,” he leans down to press a kiss to her cheek before he lifts himself back up and bends toward Poppy, “Gonna have to start coming to all the games.”

“I’ll let you break the news to her when she wakes up,” she hums as he presses his lips to hers, “She has a very low tolerance for everybody telling her to smile and getting all up in her space, been grouchy all night.”

“Just like Mami, huh, bug?”

“Oh, you think you’ve got jokes now?” Poppy scoffs as she steps back, ready to take their daughter to bed.  “Score your first hatty and you think you’re funny?”

“Always been funny, babe,” he smirks, flicking at the cap sat on her head before he takes it off, flipping it to place on top of his own and following her down the hall. “I’ll prove it to you when I get her first laugh.”

“She’ll be laughing at you, not with you.”

“Better than nothing.”

Nico sits on the edge of their bed as Poppy reaches into the crib to retrieve the sleeping bag in there before she lays it down beside him. He does the work unzipping and readying it for her to place their daughter inside while she rocks her still-sleeping body, and the two of them work in tandem to get her inside before zipping her back up, with Nico softly pulling the beanie from her head and watching her fluffy hair fan out in its absence. 

He runs a gentle hand over her head to smooth it down as Poppy lifts her, and leans into where she offers her up for a kiss before she puts her in the crib. Nico watches with a soft smile etched into his features, the familiarity of it all spreading warmth throughout his chest, his favourite part of every day being this - sharing a goodnight routine in the comfortable quiet, the two loves of his life safe and happy within arms reach.

None of it feels new or daunting anymore, just easy - and despite the constant warnings of it not always being this way, Nico just wants to feel it to its fullest extent; sheer happiness and serenity. 

Poppy returns to the front of him, and he instinctively spreads his legs to accommodate her, palms laying flat against his chest and his hands falling to her hips. She just looks at him for a good few seconds, eyes shimmering with admiration, lips tugged between teeth and a head tilted as her expression flickers into something more intense. 

Her hands travel down his arms, wordlessly, until she grasps at his wrists and pulls him to stand, leaning up to press a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth. “C’mon,” she whispers while her lips are still against his skin, “Wanna celebrate you.”

As if getting to come home to her isn’t celebration enough.

He follows her back through the hall with their hands clasped together, arms stretched between them so he can watch the hem of his shirt ride up against the backs of her soft thighs, and he starts to feel his throat go dry.

He thinks of all those mornings they would spend in the kitchen together in the summer, his shirts a little tighter around her pregnant belly, riding up against her curves and leaving very little to the imagination when she’d wear just his t-shirt and nothing else.

She’s wearing panties now, he can tell, could see the bottom of them peaking out when she’d leaned over to put their daughter in her crib. But he doesn’t mind inching them off, quite likes the slow pace of unwrapping her like a gift - a well-deserved present for all his hard efforts on the ice.

It’s where his fingers find themselves almost immediately when she stops just short of the couch, spinning and practically launching herself into his waiting arms. He can’t help but chuckle as they collide, large arms wrapping around her frame as she melts into him, hands gripping either side of his jaw to pull him down in a clash of teeth and tongues. He palms at her ass as she presses her hips forward, fingers slipping under the hem of her panties and wriggling under them until his knuckles are covered by the fabric, squeezing at the flesh until she groans into his open mouth. 

He feels deft fingers working between them to rid him of his own clothes, clumsily popping open the buttons of his jacket before working their way up his chest, slipping into the arms and helping him shrug it off. The weight of it drops to the floor with a heavy thud, and when her hands return to his chest for the next item of clothing to be removed, she pushes him back with an exaggerated huff.

“Baby, how many layers do you need?”

“You in some kind of rush, or something?” He chuckles, chasing her lips with a crane of his neck, getting a quick kiss in before she pushes him back again with palms laid flat on his broad chest.

“Your daughter has some sort of radar for when we’re within 2 inches of each other,” she says as her hands slide down, the feel of them through the extra layers he has on still present as she travels past the hard ridges of his abdomen. She grasps tight at the bottom of his hoody, and he lends a hand to tugging it up and over his head, throwing that to the floor, too. “We gotta get a move on before she wakes up,”

“My daughter?” He scoffs, removing his undershirt while she’s distracted, relishing the feeling of a heavy gaze on his chest once it’s fully revealed to her hungry eyes. “She’s really given you such a hard time that you’re disowning her?”

“She isn’t letting me have a hard time at all, that’s the problem.” Her hands reach back out seemingly of their own volition, fingers fanning out across his skin as her stare glides down, the weight of it sliding down his skin to the point he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. 

“That was weak for you.” He teases.

“I’m out of practice,” she pouts, closing the distance once more and pressing her lips to the slightly stubbled skin of his jaw, nipping at the flesh as her ministrations travel across his features, his jaw, his neck, the spot just below his ear, where she mutters, “Wanna show you how proud I am of you,”

“Oh yeah?” He asks as she works at the button of his pants, pushing until they pool at his feet and he can kick them off.

“Mmhm,” she moves her kisses back to his waiting lips, “Been waiting to get my hands on you all night.”

“Been waiting to get my hands on you all day,” he mutters back, bending to lift her with hands gripping her ass, “Been thinking about you teasing me in the kitchen this morning,” he starts heading for the couch, mind spinning as she continues kissing him - thinking of all the plans she had been making for the two of them while his mom takes Little Bug out in the morning, finally giving them some much needed, uninterrupted time to themselves. Plans of wasting the morning away between the sheets, sharing showers, having no responsibilities other than paying attention to one another. “Thinking about having you all to myself tomorrow."

“You gonna let me give you a preview?” 

He chuckles as he falls back onto the couch, all grace thrown out the window as they sink into the cushions, her still holding onto him and now straddling his lap, lips stretched into a blissful smile as he looks up at her.

She presses them straight to his, and he can’t bring himself to mind the way their teeth clash at her eagerness, hips grinding down onto his as she settles onto her knees.

He could spend forever kissing her like this, sensual and sloppy, the slight scratch of her nails against the sides of his neck and his grip on her thighs guiding her movements straight onto the aching growth between his legs.

He bucks up to meet her, and their lips part with a wet smack as she groans. 

"Bet you can’t wait for me to shave, eh?” he smiles as he swipes a thumb across the space between her nose and lip, the skin red raw from the scratch of his moustache.

“You know damn well I’d ban you from ever touching a razor again if I could.” She says, breathlessly, slowly thrusting down onto him.

“Tell that to your little red muzzy, you’re giving Luke a run for his money,”

“Hey,” she swats at his chest in feigned outrage, “The kid tried his best!” 

“No more talk about Hughes when you’re sat on my lap,”

“You brought him up!”

“Thought I was getting a preview,” he groans as he shuffles, reaching between them to slip a hand between her legs, tucking his fingers beneath her panties and swiping against her heat. “Jesus, Poppy.”

“Told you I’ve been thinking about you all night,” she pecks at his lips again, raising her hips a little to give him further access to slide his fingers through the almost excessive wetness that’s near enough soaked through her panties. 

He prods at her entrance, two fingers slipping straight in until she’s gasping against his cheek in sheer bliss. His digits move with ease, working his way up to his knuckles as he drinks up her pleasured moans, his chin tilting until their open mouths just press together without kissing, panting against one another as he works her up. 

He pushes the fabric of his shirt up her thighs with his other hand, exposing his handiwork to hungry eyes so he can see the way she glistens between her legs - can see the way his fingers slide in an out of her.

She takes his shirt off, throwing it beside them on the couch so she can see too, looking down for only a moment before she’s throwing her head back.

He’s so hard just watching her that it’s almost painful - straining against the seams of his briefs until they’re tenting beneath her. And she must notice, nimble fingers working him out until he’s thick and hot and heavy in her palm, gripping around him in with her thumb swiping at his tip, hips shuffling until his fingers slip out of her heat and she can move on her knees to hover above his waiting cock. 

He takes a hold of himself while her hands raise to steady herself on his shoulders, and he waits with bated breath as she lowers herself, sinking past her entrance until he’s sheathed entirely, tight, wet walls wrapped around him in a long-awaited embrace.

Their moans fall out in sync, both of them stilling, the only movements between them being the soft rise and fall of panting chests. 

It’s a minute before she starts to rock her hips, leaning back down to distract herself from whatever unease needs to fade away with the press of her lips to his - tongue swiping at his, sucking and nipping at the muscle as she works herself to the point where she can lift herself up a little.

“Fuck me,” he whines out in an elongated groan as she sinks down on him again, tight and slick and warm, and he feels tension in every cell in his body, strung taut to the point where he feels like he could snap entirely in any given moment.

“I’m working on it,” she pouts, “Think I overestimated my talents here,”

“Think you’re very talented,” he hums, pressing a kiss to her jaw as he lays large hands on the dip of her waist, fingers tickling into the arch of her back so her movements are a little smoother, a little more fluid. “So good to me, yeah? Just need a hand.”

He guides her hips into a steady rhythm - up, down, forward, back - until she’s rocking onto him in a mind numbing pace. 

God, he thinks, this is heaven.

It’s been so long since he’s had her like this. Probably all the way back in Switzerland in the summer, and he thinks a lot about this situation mirrors that - trying to stay quiet, trying to feel as much of each other as they possibly can without drawing attention from sleeping parties one room over. 

He remembers thinking, all those months ago, that it wouldn’t be possible to love Poppy any more than he did, then - that he couldn’t possibly feel more for her than he did when he shared that part of his world, and she had embraced it with open arms. She had blended straight into his family, had adapted herself to his routine, had brought new life and colour to what he had always considered vibrant, anyway, but she had changed the meaning of it all.

But she had done the same to life in Jersey. 

Long gone were any feelings of homesickness he used to get - especially around this time of the year. Fully immersed now into his season, summer seeming too far from his reach that he started to forget what home felt like. But not anymore.

Home is Poppy. Home is their baby girl sleeping soundly in the next room. It’s playing one of the greatest games of his career so far, meeting milestones he had been reaching for for so long, standing in the centre of the arena he has built his career in, hearing the rapturous cheers of fans chanting his name, and driving back knowing the love garnered there could never possibly compare to the love waiting for him in his apartment.

He brings her face down with a palm splayed gently across her jaw, fingers reaching back to tickle at the nape of her neck and thumb swiping tenderly at her soft cheekbone, until their mouths collide. He shifts his hips to meet her ministrations, finding a rhythm that has her gasping into his mouth, enough that his tongue can slip past the seam of her lips and press against hers - hot and fervid and eager.

He wonders as the pressure builds if this passion will ever wither. If this need to profess his love for her will ever wain away, if he’ll ever be casual about the way in which she has become the entire centre of his universe.

He hopes not. 

He hopes when he’s 80, he looks over at her and his heart still hammers in his chest. He hopes his mouth struggles to make sense of all the ways in which his brain tries to convey what she means to him - hopes he still stutters around his sentences and feels weak to the very base of his spine at the mere thought of her. 

In fact, he doesn’t hope at all.

He knows he will.

“You feel so good,” Poppy mutters into his mouth, panting against his swollen lips, “I’ve missed this so much.”

“Yeah?” He thrusts up, “You missed being full of me?”

He’s missed this far out look in her eyes, glassed over and almost gone as she nods in response - they haven’t really been able to get to this stage with their quick fumbles and rushed hookups in the last 2 weeks since she got the all clear from her doctor for them to start being intimate again. Sure, they had developed other methods over those first 6 weeks, making good use of hands and mouths in whatever limited time they could find together, but nothing compares to this.

To being attached at every point like they are one.

“You gonna come for me?”

He still remembers her tells, fluttering lashes, trembling thighs, stuttered breaths all combined with the spine tingling way in which she tightens around him, and he manages to time it so they come together, one final burst of energy used to lift his hips just as she sinks down, body slumping into tremors that wrack through the both of them.

He holds her in place for a second, large hands pushing his shirt up her back as he starts to rub circles into her flesh, soothing her back into a softened consciousness - hazy and frazzled but still in tune with every movement he makes. 

Her nose presses into the expanse of his neck, lips pecking at all the sensitive spots she can seek out as they both try to catch their breaths - and he realises she was probably right before, they haven’t had time like this for a while now. 

Still, he’ll take what he can get.

She lifts her hips just enough for him to slip out, and reaches to the small table at the side of the couch where she has miraculously stashed a pack of baby wipes. She takes two out, using one to clean the both of them before she bundles it into the clean one and discards of it back onto the table to be disposed when she eventually gets the feeling back in her legs.

And it’s as soon as Poppy’s legs give way and she collapses into him that they both hear it - a soft wail carrying through the monitor behind the couch. Cries filling the space around them and bursting their bubble with an almighty pop!

“Told you,” Poppy mumbles into his neck, skin sticky with a soft sheen of sweat. “Won’t even let me get a hatty of my own,”

Nico scoffs, snorting out a loud chuckle that shakes where she rests on his chest, and despite her feigned irritation, she feels her cheeks puff out into a soft, unbreakable grin. “Like you’d have lasted 3 rounds.”

“What happened to me being very talented?” She pouts, mustering whatever strength she has left to push herself up, swinging a leg back over and moving to stand, only for him to grasp back at her, pulling her until her back falls into the plush of the couch.

“Talented, Poppy, not super human,” he chuckles, standing from the cushions and tucking himself back into his briefs. “I’ve got her.”

“It’s probably wind, I changed and fed her before she went down.”

He presses one last kiss to Poppy’s head before heavy feet carry him down the hall toward their bedroom, where their daughter’s crib is temporarily positioned until she starts to sleep a little further through the night. He doesn’t bother flicking the light on as he enters, able to follow his muscle memory straight over to where she is without tripping over his own feet, and he lifts her as soon as he can, cooing at her as she cries into his chest.

“I’ve got you, Chäferli,” he mutters as he rocks her gently, large hand completely encompassing where he can feel her back through her sleeping bag. “Daddy’s here,”

He reaches over to shut off the monitor before he ambles over to his and Poppy’s bed, sitting with his daughter still clutched to his chest, little hiccups coming out as his hand tries to work up her wind. 

“Got yourself all worked up, huh?” He asks, so deep into his routine of talking to her about anything and everything that he no longer second guesses it. “My little bug, you’re okay.”

It takes a good few minutes to calm her down, to the point that Nico thinks she might even be hungry and he’ll have to call Poppy in, wiggling a finger between her lips to see if she latches on, but he continues to pat and rub at her back until she burps, and her cries turn into little coos, that turn into soft pants with wide, sparkling eyes staring up at him in wonder. 

He looks down at her in the same way, dark eyes flitting across her every feature. Across the soft but thick head of hair, the crazy long eyelashes, the puffy lips and the little button nose. 

She looks so much like Poppy that he feels his chest ache every time he looks at her - but it’s a good kind of ache, a longing and content kind of ache, that only aches to remind him of everything he stands to lose if he doesn’t work hard enough to keep it.

“Gromi told me you were charming everybody at daddy’s work,” he tells her with a soft smile, the pad of his finger pressing at the tip of her nose. “Says she’s gonna have to show you off around the city on her own tomorrow.”

Tiny fingers reach up to clasp around his, holding on and clutching with a grip he’s sure wasn’t so firm that morning when he had said his goodbyes. 

“Careful, bug,” he tells her, “You hold Papi’s hand too long and he won’t let you go.”

Wide eyes gleam back at him, and he watches in awe as they start to crinkle in the corners. 

He becomes all too aware of the hammering of his heart, and lays her beside him on the bed in fears that the echoing thud of it beating against his chest might disturb her. He curls up beside her, making sure she’s flat as he gets himself comfortable, and just lays there for a good few minutes, watching her as she watches him.

There isn’t a feeling in the world that compares to this, he thinks. He could score a hundred hat-tricks, have a million people chanting his name, and it won’t come close to how adored he feels in this moment, how proud he feels to have played any part in making a little human so perfect and beautiful.

He leans forward, kissing softly at her puffy cheek, careful not to press too hard that she feels the scratch of his moustache, and he relishes the little squeal of what he hopes is delight she gives in return. 

Poppy gives it 20 minutes before she decides to venture through to their bedroom, having cleaned up and busied herself sterilising bottles so they’re ready for Katja to come pick up in the morning. It’s been a rare occurrence lately that Nico has had his one-on-one time with their daughter, him being so busy with training and their trip to Florida - and he wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t fess up to the ways in which it gets him down, but she knows he feels like he’s missing a lot. 

She changes so much day to day - discovers so much about the world around her - and as much as Poppy tries to save things for him to see on his own, tries to find the balance between sharing the little moments she gets with him and letting him experience them for himself, she knows there’s nothing she can do to keep that nagging voice at bay.

He’s always been that way, unable to completely silence the thoughts that tell him no matter what he does, it isn’t enough. 

He’d even done it tonight - his first career hat-trick, him being the first Swiss-born player to score a natural hat-trick, a stadium filled with fans chanting his name, dominating a team the Devils hadn’t beat at home in close to 10 years - and it hadn’t been his best performance. 

She would gladly spend the rest of her life convincing him he’s good enough, she thinks. 

Her and their little Bug being the ones who get to welcome him home after a night like tonight? She doesn’t know what she did in a past life to get the Gods on her side like this, but she’d do it again a thousand times over.

As her feet pad softly down the hall toward their room, she listens out for the soft voice she usually has the pleasure of eavesdropping on when she thinks he doesn’t know she’s hovering on the other side of the door. A soft voice that tells their little girl exaggerated stories from his day about her uncles, about his games, about whatever he got up to while he was away and what he brought back for her from his travels. But this time, it’s quiet - the peaceful kind of quiet that wraps around her like a blanket, tranquil and warming as she pushes the door open and steps into the room.

Nico is curled up on his side of the bed, on top of the covers, and his arm is draped gently over their daughter’s sleeping bag, their faces inches apart as soft snores fall from their parted lips. She inches closer as quiet as she can manage, leaning over them and taking in their similar profiles - the gentle slope of their mirrored noses, dark lashes framing closed eyes that are turning darker to match her daddy’s day by day.

If anyone had told the Poppy of last November that this is where she would be now - that this is where she’d be with Nico - she never in a million years would have believed it. 

He has transformed her life in such little time that she can barely remember the before. Can barely remember a night she fell asleep in any other bed, by any other side, or woke up to anyone else. Can barely remember feeling anything close to this kind of happiness, this kind of content.

It’s like he’s introduced her to a whole new level of feelings. Ones she struggles to describe, like there’s no word in the English language that could possibly convey what he means to her.

Maybe his language has a word for it. Something that she’s never heard before, but just sounds right. Like she knew it somewhere much deeper than her brain allowed her access. She’ll have to ask him, tomorrow - when they finally have a morning to themselves and she can work up the energy to crawl out from under the sheets with him.

A part of her wishes she could take a snapshot of this moment - could send it back in time to the Poppy who never thought this kind of life would ever find her. The Poppy who was drifting, coasting, floating, afraid of landing on her own two feet and having to drag them for the rest of time through unfamiliar territories. The Poppy who pushed down her ever expanding adoration for the man currently cuddled up to their entire life in the bed they share, who convinced herself he could never possibly feel the same way, and wasted years of her life when she could have had this.

But another part of her thinks, what’s the point?

She has him, now. 

She’ll have him forever.

She allows herself to watch for a minute as they take deep breaths in sync, all the post-game tension in Nico’s body long melted away, before she quietly shuffles over to the bathroom to get herself ready for bed. 

She manages to make her way back over in the dark without stumbling, by some miracle, and reaches over to pick her baby girl up without interrupting her sleep, standing beside her crib and rocking her a little just to make sure she’s still fully drifted off - relishing the feeling of soft puffs of air falling into her neck as she cradles her.

Nico must wake at the loss of contact, instincts kicking in immediately when he can no longer feel the little body that had been resting under his protective arm, and when Poppy looks back over, she can see the reflective glint in his eyes as he watches her - soft and adoring and tooth-achingly sweet. 

Instead of putting her down, she bounces gently on her feet back over to Nico’s side of the bed, sitting beside him as he shuffles up, and the two of them just watch their daughter as she sleeps. 

For all the times they have been warned that this bliss is temporary, that it’s just a phase, Poppy can’t see it ending for as long as Nico looks at her like this. Like he has the entire world sat in front of him. 

“She was smiling at me before,” he whispers as he repositions himself, legs spread so that Poppy can sit between them. “Was trying to get her to calm down, and she was just looking straight at me with those big sparkly eyes and she smiled right at me.”

“She was doing it a little when we got home, earlier.” Poppy whispers back, hoping he doesn’t mind her raining on his parade a little to tell this story, “We just caught your interview on TV after the game, and there was this close up of you, and she smiled so big, Nico. She never smiles like that for anybody.”

“That’s ‘cause you snitch on her and tell everyone it’s gas.”

“I don’t want anyone else thinking they’re special.”

“But I am?” He asks, reaching to swipe the back of his finger softly against her cheek, the soft moonlight sifting into the room reflecting off of the ring on his finger, the quick glimmer enough to catch Poppy’s eye, to distract her so much that she can only hum in response, lips curving into a tender smile. 

“Yeah,” she breathes, the tranquility of the room a stark contrast to the way her heart erupts into thunderous applause for him - akin to that of the stadium full of fans earlier that night. Thousands of voices chanting his name, singing his praises, cheering him on for all the glory he brought to their night. He brings that to Poppy, tenfold, every day. “You’re really special.”

He leans over their sleeping daughter to press a loving kiss to Poppy’s lips, careful not to disturb the little angel between them, and Poppy kisses him straight back, fervent but fleeting.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” she mutters into his mouth, careful not to invest too much of herself into another moment they’ll swiftly get interrupted from. 

“You gonna show me in the morning?” He mumbles back, their lips still touching, noses pressed together, his hand still cradling her face. She nods, and he feels her cheeks round into his palm. “Gonna give me that hatty you promised?”

“Gonna give you whatever you want.”

“Another baby, Frau?”

She scoffs, swallowing down the fizzing feeling at the back of her throat the nickname. 

“Ask me again after your next hat-trick.” 

[rakhalofthestars]

Each Flaw On Your Body Shall Become A Favourite of Mine

Synopsis: Boothill is absolutely lovesick and shows you how beautiful you are through his actions

Tags: Boothill x gn reader, body worship, non-sexual nudity, non-sexual intimacy, fluff, established relationship

Warnings: Small mentions of sex (nothing happens), small mentions of negative body image

wc: 770

Lying on your bed with Boothill hovering on top of you with hearts in his eyes because you're absolutely beautiful. He's drinking in the sight of your body bare just for him as if it's his favorite malt juice but he'll swear up and down that no malt juice or fine wine could ever even hope to compare to your body.

No, darlin’, your body is so much more, he'll purr in your ear while peppering kisses down your jaw, burning his love onto your skin because words just cannot do you justice. 

Boothill will trace your facial features with his cold fingers and wish desperately to be able to feel and comprehend the softness in the way that only we humans can. The curve of your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, the plushness of your lips where he'll swoop in to steal a kiss or two or dozen because he craves for the shape of your lips and their taste to be imprinted on his until the end of time.

You'll blush and mumble something about how he should stop being so silly as he continues to shower you in compliments and love but just this once, please believe him because every word he utters is the truth. For once, he's not pulling your leg or teasing you. 

When Boothill says that you're pretty, you're handsome, you're gorgeous, you're beautiful, just know that he means it with every fibre of his being, with every drop of blue blood in his “veins” and with all of his poor ol’ heart. 

Your body is proof of your humanity and only someone like him, who has stripped himself of the one physical thing that makes him human, will know just how precious it is. He won't ever let you take it for granted. It's true that he chose to get rid of his body so he could become a ruthless killing machine. But that doesn't mean he doesn't miss the mortality of a human body.

His kisses trail down from your jaw to your neck where he'll gently graze his teeth, just enough for goosebumps to rise and he'll suckle on the skin to leave light marks, not too dark or visible because he doesn't wish to taint it in any way with his inhumane nature of someone who's spilled more than his fair share of blood and of someone who quite literally eats bullets like they're popping candy.

If you point out anything on your body that you deem to be a flaw, Boothill will be quick to correct you. He’ll shush you with a tender kiss, swallowing up your words. There’ll be no more of that on his watch. 

With reverent touches that seem unbefitting of one like him, he’ll trace your insecurities. If you won’t listen to his words, then please, listen to his actions for sometimes they speak louder than words will ever do. Watch how he’ll praise your insecurities for adding something to you that makes you so special. Watch how he’ll kiss you all over the area until you’re soft and pliable like putty and you have no choice but to listen and understand that you are gorgeous and never once in your life have you ever been anything but.

Boothill will savor you like he's a man who's on death row and you're his last meal. He’ll kiss up and down your arm before planting soft pecks on each individual fingertip and maybe even giving them a little lick because you’re fingerlickin’ good (wink wink). His lips will trace a path across your chest and down your torso. Down and down, his lips will travel, with the occasional suck here and a little nip there, just to see your reaction.

Despite your nudity and despite how close his lips may wander to any particular area, Boothill’s actions are not done with the intent of having sex. Unless you ask him, his only focus will be on making you understand how beautiful you are. 

Just sit back and watch as he gets drunk off your body. Watch how he’ll stare back at you with miniscule hearts in his pretty black eyes while kissing your skin. Watch how he worships you with more devotion than any pathstrider could ever have for an Aeon. Watch how his eyes soften and listen to how his voice will crack and how he’ll hiccup because he’s on the verge of breaking down due to how his heart aches over being so in love with you.

To be human is to love and by God does Boothill know how to love.

[kutputli]

It kills me how those stans and even "normal" iwtv fans are like "stop being mean to SR!!!!" and we're over here talking about racism 😭 He is sitting pretty with his golden globe fyc whilst iwtv stans plug their eyes and ears to the racism behind it. I haven't seen even a fraction of the concern for Assad who has to go to set every day knowing his employer places his white costars above him no matter how outstanding he is. And I'm sure they will be completely normal if/when SR doesn't get nominated. Lots of "see, you guys were acting up and being meanies to our beloved prince for nothing!" coming our way when him not being nominated won't change anything because it's always first and foremost been about AMC's racism for us

So confession: me and the mutuals have a community where we often enjoy being mean about SR.

You know why that's perfectly fine?

Because we have no structural power over him! We don't take it to any of his socials, we don't even intrude into any fannish tags!

AMC is not a fan! AMC is a for-profit corporation with immense structural power over Assad Zaman - a young South Asian actor who has just got his first possible breakout role!

AMC being racist to Assad cannot compare in any shape or form to fans 'being mean' to Sam. Even if it was fans rolling up in his socials (which DO NOT DO OBVS) to tell him he wasn't all that, it would still not compare with your workplace supervisors telling you that your white colleague who did much less work than you deserved an award and you didn't.

People really need to understand that acting is a profession and media making is an industry and the same standards of equitable treatment that apply to any workforce apply to shows they love.

[mehiwilldoitlater]

"Ready... to give up?!" His panting voice cracked his confident Facade.

You didn't need to answer, only cleaning your cheeks from the dust, Take your training rod and rise up again. You preferred to be beaten than admit defeat.

Yuán Fèn's younger siblings couldn't decide if they felt excitement about the match or guilty about making you both fight... Well, it wasn't like you two were really fighting, but now neither of the two of you wanted to back down...

Everything started so many hours ago...

When the two of you weren't training, Yuán Fèn's duty around the Mountain was quite simple: training the youngest monkey. You had the chance to observe him, and what you learned was that he was quite good at it! He was patient and understanding with those who found some difficulty in mastering a few techniques, yet severe and authoritarian with the ones that crossed the line far too much.

That day, on the other hand, was quite an event for his young disciples! It was the day of your first fighting lesson!

You, on your side, were nervous. For them The first time, you would have held a staff and learned the basics of Yuán Fèn fighting skills, a way to finally be more helpful in your mission, but the idea of not being even able to hold a simple wooden rod scared you. You gulped when a strong pat was given on your back; a chuckle escaped from him while you tried to fix your bandages on your hands.

"Nervous?"

"Yeah... a little..."

"You'll be great! I bet you'll be amazing!"

You smiled a little, yet still a little worried.

All those thoughts were put aside when you and Yuán Fèn faced each other while he showed you how a few stances needed to be done properly. Maybe, you thought, the standing in the actual scene helped you against your anxiety, and, all things considered, you weren't that bad at all! Even Yuán Fèn needed to admit you were a natural!

"This is a defensive stance. In case of danger, it will help you."

"Like this?" You mimicked his same pose. He loves a little of your arms, but besides that, he hasn't touched you at all.

"Good.... Good, very good! Let's try it. A few more stances, okay?"

You really were a natural one there. You were sucking in learning writings and reading the scrolls, always asking their meaning and all, but maybe your talent was fighting! The thought still made the monkey a little uneasy, but if it gave you confidence, then why stop you?

And you were getting confident!

"Come on, give me something REALLY hard!"

Ok, maybe too much. He did take your challenge to heart and decided to take the thing to another level...a small fighting session.

"Come on," he said, taking his position. "I thought you wanted something harder..."

"...ah!" You followed him, taking yours.

More than once, his staff hit your hand with the only intent of disarming you, and every time you had to message your hands and take back your weapon fast, even when he was clearly waiting for you to take it back.

More than once you were able to hit him at least once, but he was able to strike at least three more times. And every time he looked at you, waiting for you to give up.

He had cornered you many times, even when he was clearly telling you to take a look at your surroundings, only for you to hit your back against the wooden wall.

You were good, but he was better, and that...frustrated you.

Now there you were, your hands trembling from the many strikes, hickeys ready to form all over your body and your breath heavy. He was painting, but it was clear that he wasn't in as bad a shape as you.

"I... I won't... stand down..."

"You really should... with those hands too..."

You only grasped harder your hands on the rod, attacking again. Both of your staff crashed together, with his feet trying to not let him lose his balance.

You tried to put more force into it, using your body as a weight, but he quickly chose to move away and broke the stall. You tumbled around, falling badly on the dust, coughing and trying to get up as quickly as possible, only to find his staff again pointed at you.

"Okay...you've got some good moves, Y/n...but I'm still stronger here!"

You held your breath...then suddenly kicked his leg with your foot. The sudden attack made him tumble down, with you stopping him by climbing on him, sitting on his waist. Your rod is pointing at him, a satisfied grin on your face, feeling a small victory on you.

"And I'm smarter!"

You waited for another retort, only to meet a shocked face, with a small tint of red on his ears. Only then did you realize in what kind of position you were, especially when you felt his hands on your hips ...

A few seconds of silence, of pure nothing between the two of you... then he raised his hands like he had touched iron hot, and you jumped away, feeling your face melting by your heating.

"NICE FIGHT! GREAT LESSON! GOTTA GO!" You screamed while practically running away from the scene, while your poor monkey was there, on the ground, trying to make sense of everything.

He did the only thing he could do, putting himself in fetal position with his face in his hands, his tails frantically moving around. His siblings, slowly approaching him, decided to climb on him, chirping around and laughing a little.

"What a show, Brother! Such a show!"

[vegan-peppermint]

SFW and NSFW what dating Jeff would be like <3

Dating Jeff the Killer would include

Both SFW and NSFW

You can find the rest of the creeps here

Nsfw CW: P in V, unprotected- slight breeding kink?

SFW

Jeff's been stalking you for quite some time before introducing himself

Watching over you as you walk to school

Peaking from the window as you were fighting with your parents

Every now and then, he would find himself coming back to your neighborhood, your street, your house, you.

How many times were you looking aimlessly out the window, having no idea your eyes met his

Until he finally decided to introduce himself to you, on a random Tuesday months ago

Your usual night routine was interrupted by a soft repeating tapping sound coming from the window

Your dates only happen at night

He either helps you out the bedroom window, inviting you to roam the streets in the dark

The two of you are hanging out in empty playgrounds, every so often some other creeps joining you

But most of the time, it was just you two fooling around

Jeff running wide circles around the Merry-go-round, pushing it faster and faster as you grip the bars tightly

You partially screaming at him through uncontrollable laughter as the carousel spins so quick the world dissolves into a whirl of colors and shapes

Jeff spray painting you on random building

Its just a stick man with boobs

Being chased by the police, he runs faster than you

"I don't have to outrun them, I just have to outrun you!" He'd laugh.

You tripped him

Eating junk food in random parking lots

Talking about anything and everything for hours

You never met someone who understands you the way he does

He understands how everything that's happened affects you

He knows how you reacted before you even finish the story

You realise he has been through similar things before

Never getting to have a serious, emotional moment because he starts acting like a clown

When the nights grew colder you would invite him in your room

Cuddling in your bed as you watched movies

Falling asleep in his arms only to be awaken in the middle of the night by his snores

Trying to squeeze out of his arms to get out of bed

Only for his arms to wrap around you to drag you back in

His hands pulling you closer with your back against his chest

He squeezes you tighter murmuring sweet things in your ear

On mornings like this, you take full advantage

NSFW

Swaying your hips as you protest against his grip

Your ass brushing against his morning boner

Him groaning in your ear

"Come on, Jeff~ let me get up" you'd moan pushing your ass against his erection

Jeff getting excited, removing the layers between your soft skin and his eager hands

You act all innocent and clueless as he rubs his bare cock against your ass

One hand getting under your shirt squeezing your breast and tugging at your hardened nipples

You squirm against his cold touch

"Mhm- Stop moving so much!"

You barely register the words as you feel the fat, angry tip pushing past your wet fold

He's too big.

"It h-hurts!" you cry

"Why you moaning so fucking much then?"

He feels better than anything you've ever felt before, your walls stretching to accommodate his size

With a hard thrust he pushed himself inside you completely

He loves it when you scream, the sudden shock of him overwhelming you

"F-fuck, you're so wet, baby,"

He exhales heavily, cock twitching inside you

"No matter how many times I break this pussy, it's so tight every time,"

The moment of stillness passes and he starts pounding into you- slick, wet sounds fill the room

He pants against your ear, his hand creeping between your legs

He slaps your clit sending shivers through your whole body

"Such a pretty fucking cunt,"

His hips press in faster and his cock reaches deeper

You couldn't do anything but grab at the sheets beneath you

You're stuffed to capacity, a sobbing and blabbering mess

"Taking me so well, baby," he grunts. "You were made for me. For my cock."

You reach back to grab a fistful of his hair pulling him into a messy kiss, moaning into his open mouth

He loves feeling the way your gummy walls stretch every time his thick cock enters you

His grip on you tightens, his strong arms caging you

His thrusts get sloppy and needy, his teeth biting your lips

Your eyes roll in the back of your head, toes to curled as your slit tried to squeeze every last drop of cum

He pumps you full, his thrusts not stopping yet

"It's t-too much, ba~Fuck!" You cry as your own orgasm washes over you, but Jeff's not stopping fucking his cum into you

"Deeper," he murmurs like a prayer. "Just take me deeper..."

[thatlotuscookie]

Odd request but... can I please ask for a comfort letter from Tadashi Yamaguchi where y/n is stressed out and starting to develop symptoms of anxiety, and Tadashi comforts them? Thanks!

✧･ﾟ: a/n: : Tadashi is such a sweetheart, and I wanted to capture that gentle, attentive side of him. Not a weird request at all, thank you for sending it out. This is for all of you who struggle with the same thing. I love you all<33 (Sorry for the late posting guys, i got very very sick but omw to recovery)

✧ Title: ✧ A Heartfelt Delivery ✧ ✧ Characters: Yamaguchi Tadashi x Reader (Gender Neutral) ✧ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Romance ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: When a surprise package from Tadashi arrives, it’s filled with items so thoughtful and kind that it feels like he knew exactly how to ease the weight on your shoulders. ✧ Content/Tags: Comfort Items, Thoughtful Gestures, Emotional Support, Established Relationship, Reader in Stressful Situations, Tadashi Being an Angel :3 ✧ WC: 925 words // 5.1k chars

The world felt impossibly heavy as you sat on the edge of your bed, your hands gripping the small box and envelope that had just arrived. Tadashi Yamaguchi’s name on the return address immediately set your heart fluttering. He hadn’t mentioned sending anything, and the sight of his familiar handwriting on the accompanying letter made your chest ache with both longing and curiosity.

Peeling the tape off the box, you found it was filled with thoughtful, heartfelt items. A small bag of your favorite chocolates, a plushie of a character you’d casually mentioned liking, a lavender-scented candle, and even a stress ball shaped like a cute little animal. It was so… him. Quietly thoughtful, attentive to details, and infused with care.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you picked up the letter. Carefully unfolding it, you began to read, and it was as though his voice was there in the room with you, filling the air with warmth.

Dear Y/N, Hey, it’s me. I noticed lately that things seem to be weighing you down more than usual, and I just wanted to let you know—you don’t have to carry all of that by yourself. I know how strong you are, and sometimes I think you forget it’s okay to lean on someone else. It’s okay to not be okay all the time. I thought maybe some little things might help lighten the load. I picked the chocolates because they’re your favorite, and the plushie? I remembered you said it was cute once, so now it’s yours. I also found the candle—it’s supposed to be calming, and lavender’s nice, right? Oh, and the stress ball was just too adorable not to get. I hope it helps a little.

You laughed softly through the tears welling in your eyes. He really had thought of everything. The next lines made you pause, your breath hitching.

I know how overwhelming stress can get. The way it creeps into your mind, making even the smallest tasks feel impossible. And when anxiety starts to take over, it feels like you’re trapped in this constant spiral of “what-ifs.” It’s exhausting, isn’t it? I want you to know I see how hard you’re trying, even if it feels like you’re barely keeping it together. His understanding words felt like a balm on your frayed nerves. You hugged the plushie to your chest as you continued reading, tears slipping down your cheeks. I’m here, Y/N. No matter what. If you need someone to talk to, I’ll listen—no judgment, no interruptions, just me and you. If you don’t feel like talking, that’s okay too. I’ll sit with you quietly, just to remind you you’re not alone. Take a deep breath with me right now. Seriously, let’s do it together. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Feel that? That’s the world slowing down for just a moment. You deserve those little moments of calm, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you find more of them.

Without realizing it, you followed his advice, taking a deep, shaky breath and exhaling slowly. The lump in your throat lessened, and for the first time in days, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter.

You’re not failing, even if your mind is telling you otherwise. You’re allowed to feel this way, but I need you to know this: you’re so much more than your worries or fears. You’re kind, brave, and capable, and you’ve already overcome so much. I see the way you keep pushing forward, even when it feels impossible, and I’m so proud of you for that. If things feel like they’re piling up, let’s tackle them together. One step at a time, okay? You don’t have to do it all at once. And if there are days where you can’t bring yourself to do anything, that’s okay too. Rest is just as important as anything else. Remember, Y/N, I believe in you. On the days you can’t find the strength to believe in yourself, I’ll do it for you. You’re not alone in this—ever. Take care of yourself, and let me take care of you a little too. I’m always here. With all my heart, Tadashi

You set the letter down carefully, clutching it and the plushie to your chest. The care package, the letter—everything—made you feel so seen, so valued, in a way you hadn’t been able to see yourself lately.

The next day at school, you spotted Tadashi near the gym, his usual kind smile lighting up his face as he spoke with one of his teammates. He caught sight of you, his expression softening into something even gentler.

“Hey, Y/N,” he called, walking over.

You didn’t wait for pleasantries, rushing forward and throwing your arms around him. Tadashi stiffened for a moment in surprise before wrapping his arms around you, his touch radiating reassurance.

“You okay?” he asked softly, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” you murmured, clutching the back of his jacket. “Thank you. For everything.”

His cheeks flushed, but his smile grew. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you’re feeling a little better.”

For the rest of the day, you noticed how he kept glancing your way, as if checking in silently. And every time your eyes met, he’d give you a little nod or an encouraging smile.

Tadashi Yamaguchi wasn’t just your rock—he was your safe place, and in moments like these, you knew you’d never have to face the weight of the world alone.

[rampagingfanfictioner14]

relativity falls, but... (Part 2.5)

I realize that I've kinda been straying from the original relativity falls au with a random Bill, lol. I think my idea for him is really going into an AU, so I'll make it separate from this post. @canadianno-gravityfalls mentioned that some people swap gideon and bill as the main antagonist, but honestly I'm not sure I could give the idea justice! I've never been good at writing gideon. The concept definitely has some merit, though. For the sake of this post I've decided to just stick Bill as Bill, but that's subject to change.

Anywho, I've got a dozen brainworms squirming around inside my head and they want out. Continuing on from the last post:

In his sleep, Mason encounters a strange triangle-shaped creature. Bill Cipher, it introduces, with a voice that seems both eerie and cool at the same time. He does overreact a teensy bit at the thing's appearance, but once the screaming wears off, he settles somewhat. Initially, he actually wonders aloud if he was just dreaming this interaction up to make up for the failed summoning attempt.

Bill's quick to assure him that no, he's definitely real, and that Mason's in luck! Bill's here to tell him the secrets of Gravity Falls... and quite possibly the universe too, if he wants.

"So, whaddya say, kid? Wanna shake on it?"

A hand lights up with blue fire, thrust forward as an offering.

Mason frowns at it.

"It's a simple agreement," Bill entices, waving it closer. "A mutual understanding, if you will! Think of all the mysteries you could uncover! Wouldn't that be nice?"

Something about the almost unnoticeable urgency in the triangle's voice sets off alarm bells in Mason's mind. The scientist raises an eyebrow, not buying a word of what the demon says. "...Sure," he drags out, pointedly keeping his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. "I bet you say that to all the smart people you meet. What's your deal, man?"

Bill's eye narrows. He doesn't appreciate Mason's open scepticism. Still, he's not one to give up so easily. He sighs dramatically and proclaims that he's the one who's inspired every major human pioneer; talking about his status as a "muse" and the whole shtick; probably saying something like: "just take a look at your dollar bill if you don't believe me, smart guy! I've been rubbing elbows with presidents before you were even a twinkle in your father's eye!"

Realization strikes. Mason frowns and holds up his hands in the universal gesture of wait. "Woah, hey, hang on. Let me get this straight. You say you're a muse, and you pick one great mind a century to inspire, right?"

Bill points a finger at him and mimics shooting a gun. "Got it in one!" He praises, inwardly bemoaning the fact that by Axo, he'd picked a slow one. Didn't he just say that?

Mason smiles, as if the demon had just confirmed something for him. "So you must've met Einstein! People don't get much smarter than that guy." He slaps his hand to his forehead as if just realizing something. "Oh, and Pavlov! Did you meet him, too?"

Ah, Bill thinks gleefully, gotcha.

"Sure I did, kid! What's your point?"

"My point is that they're both from the same century," Mason deadpans, his smile falling off his face. He crosses his arms over his chest. "So either one of them is secretly a time traveller, or you're feeding me a bunch of malarkey. Time to own up, you tricky little isoceles. What do you want with me?"

It's probably at this point that Bill realizes that the whole "inspirational muse from higher plane" thing isn't going to work with the cynical lil shit that is Mason Pines.

So he switches gears.

"I thought you might catch on to that!" He cackles. He mimics swiping sweat off his brow in relief and circles Mason, glowing a bright yellow. "Sorry, sorry, I just had to check, y'know? Can't tolerate those gullible types."

Mason raises an eyebrow.

Bill continues, unbothered. He subtly shifts through a couple of Mason's memories, picking through his deepest insecurities, his fears, his losses. He wants to know what makes this smartass tick.

And aha! There he had it.

A twin sister. The fallen star to Mason's constellation.

At first he doesn't let his true knowledge show. He knows that Mason would instantly get suspicious and shut him out entirely if he suspects that Bill has an ulterior motive. Instead, he starts up a casual conversation about anomalies, showing the man a few of the things he'd seen over the course of his long life. He tries to keep the more mind-melty stuff off limits, because dang these humans were weak when it came to that sort of thing.

(Their silly concepts of morality and ethics were amusing to toy with, though).

Mason's still sceptical, but he's also a nerd. Especially about anomalies. He's initially hesitant to talk, but Bill has a way of coaxing people to do what he wants. And once Mason starts rambling, Bill sits back and enjoys the show.

Bingo.

Despite whatever Bill says, he does have an interest in what Mason's studying. Weirdness was his specialty, after all. And Gravity Falls was one of the weirdest places on Earth he'd seen.

They fall into a sort of routine. They see each other every time Mason falls asleep, they greet each other, and Bill bears witness to Mason's ramblings. It's somewhat amusing, listening to this brilliant foolish human go from talking about how the digestive system of a stomach-faced duck may function to something as mundane as his non-existent love life.

Bill listens to what the man has to say, and Mason realizes the demon's actually a pretty nice companion, who offers pretty sound advice, despite his concerning occasional homicidal tendencies.

Mason also realizes that dang, his social life must be absolute trash if his only friend was a literal geometric shape from some distant unknown dimension. Still, he's too much of an anxiety-ridden mess to keep contact with anybody from the town (except for very occasional calls with Soos and Candy), and even if he did, it's not like anyone would ever want to be near him.

How could they, when even his own twin sister had thrown him away?

So Mason does nothing to stop the blossoming friendship between man and triangle. After getting over his initial wariness with the guy, he enjoys it, even, having someone to banter with. Whenever he's with Bill, Mason feels calm. Happy, even. He feels that, just for a few precious, wonderful moments, he could forget about Mabel and ignore the crippling depression that dragged him down every day.

(It helps that Bill's just generally making himself as unthreatening as possible).

"After all, I'm just a triangle," Bill reasons. "What am I gonna do? I can't even leave your dreams."

He has a point, of course. Mason believes him.

The routine continues without a hitch. Mason thinks he might as well have known this guy for most of his life, with all the time they spent together. How long had it been since he read that spell? A few months? A year? It seemed like forever ago.

"Say," Bill says one day, "it's seems almost like destiny that a guy like you is studying this town."

Mason pauses from his most recent rant about the Hawktopus, a fickle creature that irritated him simply by existing. A bunch of gold-blue journals floated in the starry space that was his mindscape (as Bill had explained previously), the backdrop of the Big Dipper illuminating their surroundings. "...Huh?"

Bill floats closer, his hands locked behind his back. "I mean, you've got an anomaly of astronomical odds right there on your forehead, and you never once thought about what it means?"

The scientist rubs the back of his neck somewhat sheepishly. "No, I... It's just a birthmark," he tries to explain. "Nothing much to study. Just a big coincidence. A really, really big coincidence."

Bill bursts out laughing. "Haha! You don't really believe that, do you, Dipper?"

Mason stiffens at the nickname, just like he'd known he would. Bill thinks he needs to tread carefully from now on.

"...Dipper?" The scientist repeats, his voice going flat. "Why'd you call me that?" He's knows that the triangle's fond of random nicknames (to the point where he actually suspects he's forgotten his name), so doesn't instantly get suspicious, but his walls slowly start coming up anyway.

(Never let it be said that this man is not paranoid).

"Eh, it's not like it's a hard name to come up with," Bill dismisses. "You've got the Big Dipper practically seared into your skin, kid!" His eye widens comically. "What, don't you like it? I thought you humans were fond of that sort of thing."

He floats closer, almost pressing against the man. His eye scrutinizes the man with a gaze that feels entirely too sharp. "You look upset. What's the problem, Mason?" He pointedly doesn't use the nickname again, his eye blinking slowly, as if confused.

It makes something uncomfortable tighten in Mason's chest.

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts and answer the question.

"Uh, nothing."

It's just a stupid name, Mason grumbles to himself. Why was he being weird about it? Bill's right. He's just being petty. There's no way that someone else wouldn't be able to connect the dots (literally) and give him the same nickname as... y'know.

But Mabel had come up with it first. It didn't feel right.

Mason shrugs and avoids Bill's gaze, picking absently at his shirt. "I just didn't expect it, I suppose. I stopped going by that name a pretty long time ago."

If Bill had a mouth, it would be stretched wide into a self-satisfied grin. "Why?" He inquires innocently.

...And everything spirals from that moment onwards.

Bill takes advantage of Mason's emotional vulnerability whenever he talked about his lost twin sister. He knows that he needs to deal with this gently: one wrong move, and he could lose this potential pawn forever. He offers reassurances and calms the man's anxious mind down; a steadying presence in the wake of a crushing disaster.

And Mason laps it up.

Much like how the teens manipulated Mabel, Bill manipulates Mason. He's not above prying into the man's deepest fears and making them a "reality" in the form of nightmares, appearing only at the end as the only comforting presence, forcing Mason to rely on him for emotional support. He needs Bill to calm his mind down, to stop the spiralling thoughts in his head from getting any louder.

Bill finds that Mason's surprisingly easy to manipulate once his twin was brought into the equation. The shooting star seemed to influence her constellation's actions even after she'd burned away.

And Bill finds it pathetic. A scientist as smart as Mason, still longing after a bootleg, girl version of him who'd flounced out of his life a long time ago.

Yeesh. Talk about emotional issues.

Mason doesn't make the connection between his nightmares and Bill. He assumes the recent surge in terrors is due to him finally opening about Mabel after years of keeping it shut tightly in a box at the back of his mind. So he welcomes Bill's comfort when the terrors finally fade, and only falls deeper into the trap laid by the crafty lil triangle.

Unlike Ford and Bill, who had this whole "god-like" relationship between each other, Mason and Bill's is... well, far more personal, for lack of a better word. Bill's the closest thing that Mason has to a true friend. And to Bill, well... he's Bill. He's never not going to see Mason as a means to get what he wants, but perhaps there's some misplaced sense of affection in there as well. Something like what a human might feel when they look at a small, defenceless furry animal.

Cute, sure. Maybe even lovable. It helps that the guy's as weird as they come.

But not smarter. Not better.

Nothing but a pet.

There's no talk about "muses from a higher plane" or "a scientist who's going to change the world", though Bill does try to goad Mason into thinking that his birthmark is destiny calling him to Gravity Falls, for a higher purpose.

Mason's nonexistent sense of self esteem kinda goes against that, though. The guy's initially very hesitant to believe he's something special, brushing off Bill's offhanded comments at underhanded attempts at praise.

But... after a bit, he actually does fall for it. Not immediately, no: maybe after a year or so.

(Dipper as a character isn't incorrigible. If Bill gives him no reason to doubt his intentions, then why would he? He's not paranoid enough to listen to some random thousand-year-old warnings when the "demon" was being so nice to him. Not without the journals or the mantra of "trust no one" to influence his thoughts, which is where most of canon-Dipper's wariness stemmed from. Imagine having no-one to properly talk to for years, and this one guy shows up and listens to you. He doesn't judge, he doesn't complain. He's the only rock in your constantly changing world, the only thing left to rely on when you spiral, the only friend you have. Who wouldn't fall for his tricks?)

Remember, Mason's not as detached from his twin as Ford is. He misses Mabel, misses her so much that it physically hurts him to think about her for too long. If there's anything that could distract him from the gaping hole in his heart, of course he's going to chase after it.

Nobody likes feeling all terrible and depressed all the time. No one likes remembering their losses, especially with no closure to what had happened.

So, in the end, despite having a different relationship to Bill and Ford in canon, ultimately the results are the same.

Mason builds a portal for Bill. Why wouldn't he? The triangle's assured him that they could make it stable, and Mason's nothing but too curious for his own good. Plus, maybe he'll actually have a physical form of Bill to interact with for once. Soos and Candy were great, but Mason's never truly gotten along with either of them much.

Sure, Soos was a great guy. He was smart and funny and always looked out for Mason when it became clear he was burning out. And Candy... well, she was a genius. Great with engineering, great with children, but not so much other adults. At least they shared that one thing in common.

But Mason knows he can't call on them to help with the portal he was making. They'd drifted apart after all those years, to the point where he wasn't even aware of where they lived. Plus, it had become clear throughout their years of university that Soos was far too accident-prone for all his skills, and last he heard, Candy had a family to tend to --- not to mention that asking for her help would involve an actual conversation, and he's really unsure if he could talk normally without Bill to calm him down.

(...The guy's really gotten far too dependent on that triangle. Yeah, that's gonna end well, huh? >:))

So, the problem arises: how can Mason build a fully functioning interdimensional portal if he has neither the skill nor the muscles necessary?

Bill offers up a solution: "Wouldn't everything be so much easier if I talked to them instead?"

Mason waves a hand dismissively, still pacing in his mindscape, the light from the Big Dipper's stars casting a soft glow on his face. He doesn't even cast the triangle a glance as he ponders over his latest problem. "You know you can't, Bill. You're stuck in my mind, remember?"

Bill hums, his eye widening in amusement. "Sure, but I've got powers like nothing you've ever seen, slick! Howsabout we make a deal, eh, Dipper?" In an eerie parallel to when they'd first met, he thrusts forward a flaming blue hand, waggling his eyebrow enticingly. "I could take over your body for you, and we could be done with all those silly human talks before you could say 'Bill Cipher!' All you gotta do is shake my hand."

Mason hesitates, his hand reaching for the triangle's almost instinctively, before he draws it back. "You... You won't throw me off a cliff or something, right?" He asks apprehensively.

Bill laughs out loud, but it's in somewhat genuine tone that he replies, "Not even if I wanted to." He still needs a pawn, after all. It helps that Mason's rather adorable. Like a puppy.

Mason smiles in relief, and reaches forward, sealing his fate.

---

Not my au, not my characters, just my take on both! :)

[sadisthetic]

this isnt a question about which you think is better btw. simply pure opinion

[naggingatlas]

'thats not his role in the story!' hm i wonder what the point of it is then. hm i wonder what the dead pixel scene means. hm i wonder what wrong organ are trying to say with the context of 'awesome male friendship' and 'corporate hell where the only woman onboard is constantly under ridicule, abused or forcibly forgotten yet is the catalyst' if not this. hm i wonder how curly's physical agony being a direct parallel to anya's mental agony, stripped of voice, agency, just like her, and being forced to watch what happens while not doing jack shit, just like he used to, plays a part in this. i wonder what the moral of him being the final girl says about living with the consequences of your inaction, because of sentimentality, because of status, career and social. hm i wonder whatever the fuck this game was trying to say. hm i wonder what else is on this person's blog Oh Lord there's yaoi penice.

[uncanny-tranny]

Hi, I have a question I hope it's okay to ask here. I'm a ciswoman dating a transgender man. I know that there are a few things that he finds still difficult about being trans (but I don't know everything yet as we've only been dating for a few months). Lately I've noticed him saying some things that make me wonder whether maybe he wants some confirmation that I really see him as a man. Of course I want to do this for him, but I'm not entirely sure how. Do you have any tips?

I think so much of it boils down to being compassionate and direct. There's so much pressure on people in relationships to just "know" through divine interpretation of how to best love their partner, and there is almost no thought given about the idea of offering love being a continuous conversation.

I'm not sure what will "work" best for your partner to show that you see him and not a warped perception, so I really think asking questions about where he is at might be more beneficial, since you'll be hearing direct feedback. I know it can be hard to navigate through something you're unfamiliar with right now, so that makes it even more important that you navigate through it with the person in question.

Trans manhood looks different for... literally all of us, which is why I don't have a direct answer for how you can help your partner feel loved and seen as a man. Since it looks different for each of us, the things that affirm us and help us will all look different, as well as the things that make us feel less understood and hurt.

[abyssalpriest]

Damnit lev lmfao. I was thinking about Shiva wearing corpse ash being resonant for other reasons, something about his relationship with the Bright Skinned Ones and death and whatever. No, no. More fucking importantly: Oh I wonder why Shiva is known for. you know. wearing bodies. his appearance is a mass of bodies joined together. yeah

[doodle-dog-diary]

@rt-nique

@rt-nique

Ran into an "everything was better in my day" old guy today who was genuinely shocked to learn that he was in his teen years before his mother was allowed a bank account without a man's permission

[randomaj]

..