#every time i go to sleep i play this game

[cheyisagirlkisser]

・゜゜Gamer Ellie Headcannons ・．

NSFW CONTENT BELOW, MDNI

✧.* Gamer Ellie wears those plaid boxer-shorts around the house adorned with some random t-shirt she often sleeps in. When she's out and about, she loves her classic flannel or white wife-beaters, sports bra peeking out of the fabric when she moves just ever so slightly. Converse and doc-martins all the way. You'll beg her not to wear it in public, but Ellie's got this one black Call of Duty t-shirt that is she is obsessed with.

✧.* Gamer Ellie ismore introverted than anything. She likes staying inside with you and watching movies with you rather than going on restaurant dates. Speaking of movies, gamer Ellie would be more into comedy and sci-fi than anything. I've mentioned in previous headcannons Ellie would be a huge Jurassic park fan, but some other movie / shows she'd be begging you to watch with her are Airplane, Star Trek, and Pulp Fiction. Anything with action or on her level of dumb humor, and Star Trek for when she's geeking out. It's her guilty pleasure.

✧.* Gamer Ellie's favorite type of physical touch is having your fingers running through her hair. She likes to feels your touch in such a light, vulnerable way. Sometimes when she's playing a game, you'll approach her from behind and massage her scalp with your sweet touch. "Babe, you're distracting me!" She'll complain with a dramatic but playful groan, but her freckled face will melt like ice on a hot day from your touch.

✧.* Gamer Ellie isn't good at multi-tasking. She loves having you all up in her lap while her fingers are punching keys, but she always seems to lose when you're touching her, let alone near her. Why? Her thoughts are filled with the night before when the two of you were about to fall asleep, giggling in bed about some video on your phone, and specifically she's thinking about when you forgot all about sleep and had a late-night make-out session with some 90's movie tuned out on the television. It's so hard to remember to reload her virtual AR when all she's feeling is the way your warm fingers slid down her back and how your breathing turned into soft pants when she got all greedy and latched her filthy mouth onto your neck. Still, she'd never tell you to get off of her lap so she could focus. You were worth every aggravating respawn.

✧.* Gamer Ellie, in bed, isn't some huge dommy-mommy or whatever you're thinking. She's really touchy, sure. But she's honestly just your average lesbian who is absolutely obsessed with her girl, and she blanks at time. You'll be on top of her, and she's got this cave-woman aura going where she's just staring at your pretty face, focused on chasing your lips for a kiss. Her hands are awkwardly perched on her sides because she forgets how to even touch you: you're such a fucking goddess, and she's kind of a loser. You're a savior, though; guiding her hands to your waist with a sweet, patient smile. Ellie will get the cue and her fingers will spread across your waist to the top of your hips, and she remembers how desperate she is. (This one was inspired by me with my gf, you're so real gamer Ellie)

✧.* Gamer Ellie is also a switch! If you want her to be the top, she'll do it, but like I said she's going to be all cute and embarrassed about it. She'll be eating you out and her thoughts will be going at 100 miles per hour: "Am I doing this right?" "She's moaning Ellie, stop overthinking it." And sometimes the only thought she can really be having is "I love pussy." Cute. When she's bottom, which is most of the time, she isn't really all submissive and whiney but more like, defensively flustered like how she got with Dina when Dina threatened to bite her on the couch. Gay panic type of bottom. She does get pretty loud when you use a vibrator on her, though. That's a personal favorite in the bedroom.

✧.* Gamer Ellie did have a Fortnite phase. She hates talking about it but she spent like an ungodly amount on the stupidest skins. She used to make you watch her play at first, and then it was you having to create a whole Epic account so you could be her duo. Ellie's favorite season? Chapter two season seven. Why? Aliens. She got the battle pass and unlocked the alien skins, too. A little after she got super obsessed with it, like yelling at some 12 year old boy telling him his mother wishes she swallowed him, she moved on to a game that wasn't making her yell at at her screen. You were thankful.

✧.* Gamer Ellie is a huge night owl. While your sleep schedule is pretty average, she will blink and it'll be four in the morning. She'll groan and pop her back before stripping down to underwear and a t-shirt and then crash on your shared bed, making you stir from your rest. She sleepily curls her body into yours, peppering the warmest smooches wherever(probably with her eyes closed or half-way, at least) and muttering out apologies for waking you in the most ethereal voice known to woman-kind (it's raspy and the one she uses during sex when she's attempting to be a good top).

A/N: Thank you everyone for over 500 followers! I hope to post some longer fics this week or at least some more arcane fics. I promised some Jinx content, hopefully that'll be soon. Love you all.

[fictionalmenxyn]

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬

Pairing: frat!rafe x sorority!reader

Warnings: SMUT, language, fingering, p in v, no mentions of protection (wrap it!), breeding, self pleasure (Rafe)

꥟꥟꥟

You had come over to hang out with Rafe. You both haven’t seen each other since yesterday since college was busy for you both. Rafe needed his daily dose of you, so he spammed texted you to sleepover.

So here you were, lying in his bed. Wearing just his old football jersey and a pair of Calvin Kline underwear. You laid in his bed watching tv. Rafe was playing cod with the guys. His headset on but one ear off just in case you wanted to chat or needed anything. He sat in his gaming chair at his desk. His eyes glued to the monitor, but occasionally glanced over to you.

You watched the tv on his wall, enjoying the company and finding it funny how the boys talk in chat.

You felt drowsy, your eyelids felt heavier each blink. You moved your head into the pillow more, turning over to lay on your stomach as you went to sleep.

Rafe glanced over to you as he heard you shift around in bed. His eyes raked over you. Seeing the jersey had rode up resting on your kid back. Showing off one of his favourite things about you, your ass. He could stare at it all day if he could. His hands on it most of the time. But it was the fact that you laid in his bed. Tangled up in the covers, wearing his jersey. Looking peaceful and relaxed, that made him hard in his sweatpants.

He groaned as he looked down at his sweats, seeing the newly formed tent. He didn’t bother putting on boxers as he had only just got out of the shower and just wanted to throw something on. Besides he does it most of the time when he lounges around.

He turned his attention back to the game. Trying to calm down the hard on in his sweats. But he can’t help but look over to you every so often. He couldn’t do anything about it yet. You were asleep. And he wasn’t the type to do such things without you knowing. He knew better.

He moved his right hand over his bulge. His controller in his left hand. The guys and himself were in the lobby of the game. Some of the guys either going to the bathroom or getting snacks. He quickly muted himself.

Moving his hand into his boxers, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Stroking the long length of his as he thought about you sat on top of him on his gaming chair. Like you have many times.

He just couldn’t budge it. Not even his hand was helping anymore. He had enough. He was going to climb into bed and sleep it off. He quickly made an excuse for him to end the game with the guys. He logged off and turned his ps5 off.

He climbed into bed beside you. Pulling you close to him. Letting out a long sigh, he closed his eyes and tried to relax.

He soon fell asleep. Then to be only woken up at two in the morning. He groaned to himself when he felt his hips subconsciously grid against your side.

He was tried, so were you. But he had to get rid of it. And he’d know you’d most def would help him.

He brushed a few strands of hair out of your face. Then whispering in his deep husky tired voice “baby… need you to wake up f’me…”

You turned over, rubbing your eye “hm?”

He grinned softly “c’mon… I need some help… you looked so good in my jersey earlier… I couldn’t shift it…” he pressed his hard on against your hip to show you.

You resting your forehead against his lips “but ‘m tired, Rafey…” “I know, I know, could you just stay awake? I’ll do all the work… just relaxed and help me out, yeah?” God his voice did things to you no one could ever explain. His raspy along with the deep mess of the accent and his overall tone. Sent shivers down your spine.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your lips, then your neck. Gently turning you over and lifting your right thigh up more. He moved his hand along your side and down to your entrance.

His palm against you, already feeling your underwear to be damp. He smirked lazily “that’s my girl…” he moved his hand in slow, lazy circles.

You moaned softly, he pulled your underwear to the side. Moving his middle finger inside of you. He lazily pushed it in and out. Curling his finger every other time. You pushed your ass back into his hard on. Causing him to groan and rock his hips into you.

He slipped his ring finger into you next. Prepping you for him. Causing you to tiredly rock your hips against his hand.

He pulled his fingers away and move his hand into his sweats. He then tugged his sweats down just enough to let his cock out. He was hung. No doubt about it. All the girls in college would die to get what you got most nights. But you took it all the way each time. Nothing like the girls he had in the past. Nothing compares to you.

He ran his tip along your slit, gently pushing it inside. Causing you to moan softly. He went in, inch by inch.

He moved his hand to your jaw. Holding it and turn your head enough so he could kiss you. As he would lazily and slowly thrust in and out of you.

You liked this side of him. Most of the time you both were rough or loud. This was quiet and relaxing for a change.

He bit your bottom lip gently as he pulls away a little. He looked into your eyes with pure lust. His lips brushing against yours as he mumbled “so fucking tight f’me… best fucking pussy, all mine, baby, yeah? All mine…love it so much” you moaned softly. Looking into his eyes with tiredness and attraction. God the look you’re giving him right now drove him insane.

He kept moving his large length in you. He moved a little so he was on top of you more. Getting a better angle and also going deeper in you. Causing you to moan a little louder. He moved his left hand next to your head in the bed, stabilising himself. As his right went under the jersey and over your breast. Massaging your breast as he rest his forehead on the side of your head. He breathing heavy and ragged.

He felt you tighten around him, causing him to groan lowly “fuuuccckk…”

He picked up his pace, you were about to moan when he shoved his hand over your mouth gently. He whispered “gotta stay quiet, baby, I don’t want the guys hearing how good I make you feel… don’t wanna wake em up now, yeah?” You nodded.

As you feel your climax approaching, Rafe smirked. Knowing your body inside and out. He knew you were close. He picked up his pace more. The room filled with heavy breathing and cheek smacking.

Your jaw slackens as you tighten around him and finish. He groans “thaaatss it, come all over my cock, yeah? Mhm fuck, so hot…”

He moved his mouth to your ear “want me to come in ya? Want it, baby? I know you do, tell me, do you?” You nodded “yes, Rafey, want you too… so bad, please…” he smirked.

Feeling himself finishing in you was amazing. Knowing it was him that made you feel this good and him being the one to finish in you, was a dream to him.

He stayed there for a moment. Giving you a ‘thank you’ kiss. He mumbled against your cheek “thank you for helping, babe… did so good f’me… I’ll treat you in the morning, you don’t have class till the afternoon… I’ll eat you out all morning, hm? Wanna do it so bad, been craving you…”

You nodded eagerly, one of your favourite things he does was just that.

He gently pulled out, watching his seed go down your thigh. He grabbed some tissues on the side of his bed and wiped it. Knowing you’d probably not want to sleep with it all over you.

Tossing the tissue into the trash can. He laid back beside you. Pulling on his sweats again. And wrapping his arms around your waist. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you fall back asleep.

And best believe he kept his word for the next morning.

꥟꥟꥟

[mbsneur]

Mariona caldentey?

NSFW alphabet

Please x

NSFW ALPHABET 💌

Mariona Caldentey 18+

A = Aftercare (what they‘re like after sex)

mariona will always get you something to eat and run you a warm bath

B= Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner‘s)

mariona's favorite part of her body is her legs she loves how your fingernails dig into them while she fucks you

her favorite body part are your breasts she loves how they move when she presses into you

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

she loves that she can just make you cum with her tongue

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

she fingered you under the table at a team dinner and made you cum several times

E = Experience (how experienced are they, do they know what they‘re doing)

she is very experienced but has tried out and learned a lot of new things with you

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary. like i said she loves how your tits move and how your fingernails press into her thighs

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment)

mariona likes to laugh with you and she makes some silly jokes to tease you but if you disobey her she gets very serious

H = Hair (how well groomed are they?, does the carpet match the drapes etc?)

mariona pays a lot of attention to her hair and during sex she has her hair loose when it's time to get down to business she doesn't have time to tie it up

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

she cares about you and often asks you if you like it and if something hurts you and she tries to cling to every piece of your skin

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

when mariona is not at home she will always call you via facetime to see you cum

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

one of her secret kinks is when you tell her that your body and you belong to her just before you cum

she loves to play with your ass

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

somewhere in your apartment but preferably on the couch when she comes home from training

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

mariona is turned on when you start kissing her neck and slide your hands up and down her sides

N = No (something they wouldn‘t do)

mariona will never share you with others she doesn't want to see how others make you cum

O = Oral (preference is giving or receiving)

mariona is a giver through and through but she doesn't mind if you kneel in front of her

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc..)

always fast and rough but she loves to see you break under her because she is so slow

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies)

most before training or a game or after a game in a storage room in the stadium

R = Risk (are they game to experiment?)

mariona is very risky she will take you anywhere whenever she wants

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for?)

mariona can do a lot of rounds until you can no longer walk at best

T = Toys (do they own toys?)

she has a strap with which she always fucks you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

mariona likes to get down to business quickly especially because you usually have quickies but if you have more time she is a tease

V = Volume (how loud they are)

mariona is not loud just a bit of grunting and humming before she cums

Y = Yearning (how is their sex drive)

very high mariona uses every little minute to fuck you

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

mariona only sleeps when she is sure that you are well

[alcoholfreenayeon]

Hello can I request for more Sana and Tzuyu gf headcanons? I really enjoy your work!

Sana Girlfriend HCs pt.2

SFW HCs

She’s been working on her song writing because she wants to write a song about you.

Sana has been feeling a bit down lately because her schedule has been really busy lately and she hasn’t been able to spend much time with you lately.

She recently decided to get a gaming laptop because she wants to try out gaming especially she’s been spending a lot of time traveling and doesn’t have much else to do.

Even though you warned her, she said she doesn’t mind going for scary games straight away. This is inspite of her being scared easily.

And that’s how you found yourself playing lethal company with Sana, Mina and Dahyun.

However, Sana ended up enjoying it a lot, loving that she could be bonding with her close friends and partner while playing. She did end up screaming a lot though.

When she video calls you before sleeping, it’s quite amusing to see her twist, turn and stretch restlessly every couple of minutes.

She has a small scar on her finger now because she had gone out for dinner with you and ended up getting burnt by the boiling hot bowl.

She was so happy to spot you surprising her during MiSaMo’s comeback that she really jumped into the crowd to go to you.

Sana has tried to make sketches of you but is too embarrassed to show them to you for now.

NSFW HCs

The two of you have been exchanging quite a lot of dirty texts lately.

It’s somewhat new for Sana because you hadn’t been this intense in text before so it gets her heart racing.

The few times you and Sana managed to meet up in this busy period, she wasted no time in letting you know that she needs you in the most primal way.

She likes to suck your finger when you are on top and bite them when she’s on top.

While on her way to practice, you sent her a suggestive message and she smiled excitedly as she whispered it out and giggled.

Only to feel piercing gazes at her and turned to see both Momo and Mina looking at her in disbelief.

She’s loves to leave hickeys all over you.

Jihyo and Jeongyeon caught her daydreaming about you. It was quite easy for them to figure out it’s you given the way Sana was biting her finger and smirking.

You had gotten a sudden load of work dumped on you and had to cancel going on one of the performances. Sana was pretty upset about it.

So she decided to wear exactly the kind of dress that drives you crazy and performed with it. Knowing you are bound to watch the performance later and that you’d be all over her when you see her next.

[bullet-prooflove]

Hi love!❤️ Three things prompt game - Ryan Yellowstone- rain, blanket, bear.

Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @yousigned-upforthis @queenslandlover-93 @ladychaos1525

Companion piece to:

Romantic Shit - Ryan and you talk about Texas.

Texas - Ryan and you see each other for the first time in three months.

Summer (NSFW) - Ryan enjoys a moment with you in the summer sun.

What Comes After The Dog - Ryan and you have a frank discussion about the future.

It’s raining outside, Ryan can hear the pitter patter against the glass as a well loved stuffed bear is thrust into his face by Briscoe the dog. He’s been doing this every morning, just as the light blossoms in the sky outside.

“Go bother your Mama.” Ryan mumbles, pressing his cheek into the pillow and pulling the blanket up a little higher.

The dog responds by using his nose to shove the toy at Ryan again before he sits down and tilts his head waiting expectantly.

Ryan groans, picking up the bear and hurling it across the room. Briscoe lopes after it, retrieving it before he returns to the bed, depositing it back on the bed.

“Briscoe, if you go find Mama and let me sleep in I will feed you as many-” Briscoe’s teeth latch onto the blanket covering Ryan’s nude form, tugging it from the bed. The cold air hits Ryan in a rush as the dog absconds with it, disappearing from the room.

“Looks like he found a way to get you out of bed after all.” You say as you step into the bedroom, closing the door to the ensuite behind you. You’re draped in a plush robe, your hair still damp from the shower.

“You have to teach him some manners.” He grumbles into the mattress.

“We.” You correct as you sort through the closet for your uniform. “This is what you get for being the fun parent. You need to put your foot down with him like I do.”

You aren’t wrong. That dog follows you around, obeying your every command. Ryan understands he does need to be more assertive, the problem is, he kinda likes being the fun one. Getting down on the floor playing with Briscoe, taking him on sniffy walks, playing tug whilst watching TV, it’s good for the both of them because Ryan has the feeling that Briscoe didn’t get much enrichment from his previous handler. He suspects it had been all work, work, work and then retiring to the doggie basket at the end of the night.

“I’ll try.” He promises you, shifting into a sitting position before he gives you his own puppy dog eyes. “Now will you get him to give the blanket back?”

Love Ryan? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[movingmusically]

Caught Feeling: Wild Card - One Shot

Author’s Note:

I know absolutely nothing about baseball so apologies if there are any mistakes.

Word Count: 6,574

Masterlist

The idea started over breakfast, sunlight streaming through the kitchen window and catching the golden strands of Hank’s hair, making them glow faintly. He was sitting across from me, his phone in one hand and a half-eaten piece of toast in the other, his brow furrowed as he scrolled. I sipped my coffee, watching him with quiet amusement. The small frown pulling at the corners of his mouth was the kind of expression I’d come to recognise—he was deep in thought, something occupying his mind enough to distract him from the food on his plate.

“Everything okay?” I asked, setting my mug down on the table.

He looked up at me, his face clearing slightly as he gave a small, distracted smile. “Yeah, it’s just…” He hesitated, glancing back at his phone like he wasn’t sure how much to say. “The Giants are coming in to town. Mets versus Giants, wildcard game. It’s a one-game playoff, winner goes to the postseason.”

His tone was casual, but I caught the quiet yearning beneath the words, a faint wistfulness that tugged at something in me. It wasn’t hard to see how much it meant to him, even if he was trying to downplay it.

“Sounds intense,” I said, leaning back in my chair and studying him. “You thinking about going?”

Hank sighed and set his phone on the table, his fingers drumming lightly against the surface. “I’d love to, but tickets are probably insane.” He paused, glancing up at me again. “And, you know, it’s not really your thing.”

I tilted my head, my eyes narrowing slightly as I studied him. There was a flicker of something in his expression—a mix of longing and resignation that made my chest tighten. “What if I said I wanted to go?”

His eyebrows shot up, surprise flickering across his face. “You want to go? To a baseball game?”

“Why not?” I said with a shrug, trying to keep my tone casual even as his reaction made me smile. “You’ve already taught me the basics, and it’s not every day your team plays a game this important. Besides…” I leaned forward slightly, letting a hint of playfulness slip into my voice. “I kind of like seeing you in your element.”

The grin that spread across his face was so wide and unguarded, it made my heart skip a beat. It was rare to see him light up like that, so purely excited, like a kid on Christmas morning. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” I replied, unable to keep from smiling at his reaction. “Let’s do it.”

For a moment, he just stared at me, as if trying to gauge whether I was really being serious. Then he let out a short laugh, running a hand through his hair again, this time in a gesture of disbelief. “Alright,” he said, the grin still tugging at his lips. “We’ll check for tickets. But don’t say I didn’t warn you about how loud and crazy it’s going to get.”

“I’ll survive,” I teased, reaching for my coffee again. “Besides, I think I can handle a few hours of chaos if it means spending time with you.”

His expression softened, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary before he glanced back at his phone. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving him off with mock indifference. “Now, hurry up and find us some seats before they’re gone.”

The rest of the morning was spent huddled around his laptop, scrolling through ticket options and arguing over which seats to choose. I let him take the lead, secretly loving the way his excitement bubbled over as he explained the layout of the stadium and debated the pros and cons of sitting closer to the field versus higher up. By the time we’d secured our tickets, I could tell he was already counting down the hours until the game.

And, if I was being honest, I was too.

The day of the game arrived, and Hank was practically buzzing with energy from the moment he woke up. By the time I’d shuffled into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from my eyes, he was already making coffee and pacing around in his Giants jersey and cap, the brim slightly worn from years of wear.

“You know,” he started as I poured myself a mug, “the Giants have the edge with Logan Webb starting, but the Mets have a solid lineup. It’s going to come down to how sharp our bullpen is.” He was practically vibrating as he spoke, his voice rising with excitement. “If Crawford’s in good form tonight, it could—”

“Okay, okay,” I interrupted, laughing as I held up a hand to stop him. “I’m awake, but I’m not sure I’m ready for a full game breakdown before breakfast.”

Hank paused mid-pace, his face breaking into a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I just… it’s a big game, you know?”

“I can tell,” I teased, taking a sip of my coffee and watching him over the rim of the mug. His excitement was contagious, and as much as I teased him, I loved seeing him like this—completely in his element, unapologetically passionate.

What he didn’t know, though, was that I’d been keeping a little secret. As soon as we’d decided to go, I’d ordered my own Giants jersey and a matching cap online, timing the delivery so it arrived while he was at work. I’d even gone the extra mile and picked a player’s name that I remembered Hank mentioning during one of his many baseball lessons—Crawford, of course. The shirt and cap were neatly folded in my bag, waiting for the right moment.

By late afternoon, we were finally getting ready to leave. Hank had switched from pacing to glancing at his watch every few minutes, his impatience growing with each passing second. “Come on,” he said, hovering near the door. “If we don’t leave soon, we’re going to miss the warm-ups.”

“I’m almost ready,” I replied from the bedroom, suppressing a grin. My heart raced as I checked myself in the mirror one last time, adjusting the cap on my head and smoothing down the jersey. It was a bold look—bright orange and black weren’t exactly subtle—but the thought of surprising Hank made the nerves worth it.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the bedroom, leaning casually against the doorframe as I called his name. “Hey, Hank?”

He turned at the sound of my voice, his brow furrowing slightly as his eyes swept over me. For a second, he looked confused, like his brain was struggling to catch up with what he was seeing. His gaze landed on the orange jersey, the cap tilted just slightly on my head, and his jaw dropped slightly.

Hank froze, his mouth parting slightly as his eyes widened in surprise. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at me like he was trying to process what he was seeing. “You…” He finally found his voice, shaking his head with a breathless laugh. “You got a jersey?”

“Crawford,” I said, turning slightly to show him the name and number on the back. “I figured if I’m going to do this, I might as well do it right.”

He blinked, his expression softening as a slow, delighted smile spread across his face. “You look…” He trailed off, his gaze sweeping over me again, a mix of awe and affection in his eyes. “You look incredible.”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” I teased, adjusting the brim of the cap. “I clean up pretty well.”

“It’s not that,” he said, stepping closer and running a hand lightly down my arm, his touch warm and grounding. “It’s just… you didn’t have to do this. But you did. For me.”

I shrugged again, though my heart was doing somersaults at the way he was looking at me. “It’s just a shirt and a cap, Hank. Don’t make it a big thing.”

“It’s not just a shirt and a cap,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, more serious. “It’s…” He shook his head again, that boyish grin returning as he reached up to adjust the cap on my head. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t hide the blush creeping up my neck. “Alright, save the sweet talk for the stadium. Didn’t you say you didn’t want to miss the first pitch?”

Hank laughed, stepping back to grab his wallet and keys. “Alright, alright. Let’s go, Crawford.”

The nickname made me laugh, and I followed him out the door, feeling lighter than I had in days. If this was how much fun we were having before the game even started, I couldn’t wait to see what the rest of the night had in store.

The atmosphere at Citi Field was electric, a buzzing hum of energy that hit me the moment we stepped through the gates. The smell of hot dogs and popcorn filled the air, mixing with the faint tang of beer and the sweetness of cotton candy. Everywhere I looked, Mets fans were decked out in blue and orange, waving foam fingers and sporting oversized jerseys with their favourite players’ names on the back. But scattered among the sea of home-team pride were splashes of black and orange—Giants fans holding their own, waving flags, and shouting chants that echoed through the concourse.

Hank walked beside me, his hand resting lightly on my lower back as he navigated us through the crowd with practiced ease. He was in his element, his excitement bubbling over in small bursts as he pointed out details I’d have never noticed on my own. “This place is great,” he said, his voice tinged with awe even though it was clear he’d been here before. “It’s not Oracle Park, but it’s still got charm.”

“Oracle Park?” I asked, glancing up at him.

“Giants’ home stadium,” he said with a grin. “Right on the water. You’d love it. Fans bring kayaks to McCovey Cove just to catch balls that land in the bay. One day, I’ll take you there.”

The promise in his tone made my chest tighten, but I pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the energy of the moment. The closer we got to our seats, the louder the noise became—chants, cheers, and the occasional heckle blending into a chaotic symphony that seemed to shake the very ground beneath us. Vendors shouted above the din, hawking everything from peanuts to beer, and I caught sight of kids clutching oversized souvenir cups and foam baseballs. The excitement was contagious, crackling in the air like static electricity.

Our seats were incredible—close enough to the action that I could see the sweat glistening on the players’ foreheads, but far enough back that we didn’t have to worry about dodging any errant foul balls. Hank led the way down the aisle, glancing back every few seconds to make sure I was keeping up, his grin widening with each step.

“Here we go,” he said, gesturing to our row. “Perfect spot. You can see the whole field from here.”

Settling into my seat, I took a moment to take it all in. The perfectly manicured grass, the crisp white lines of the diamond, the players warming up near the dugouts—it all felt larger than life. The scoreboard loomed above us, flashing stats and player profiles in bold colours, while the speakers blasted music that barely cut through the roar of the crowd.

It was overwhelming in the best way, and I couldn’t help but glance at Hank as he took it all in, his expression a mixture of awe and boyish excitement.

He looked incredible in his Giants jersey and cap, his enthusiasm radiating off him like a force of nature. And from the way he kept sneaking glances at me—his smile impossibly wide—I could tell he hadn’t fully gotten over seeing me in my matching gear.

“You’re really pulling it off, you know,” he said, leaning closer so I could hear him over the noise. His eyes scanned over me, his grin nothing short of delighted. “Like, really pulling it off.”

“Good thing,” I teased. “I’d hate to be out here embarrassing you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he adjusted the cap on his head. “Embarrassing me? Nah. You’re making me look good.” He bumped my shoulder lightly with his, his grin softening into something warmer. “Thanks again for doing this. It means a lot.”

“You’ve already said that,” I pointed out with a laugh, nudging him back. “And you’re welcome. But if you keep getting mushy, I might have to start rooting for the Mets just to throw you off.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, mock horror flashing across his face.

“Try me,” I teased, raising an eyebrow. But as I looked around the stadium, taking in the energy and the excitement, I couldn’t help but add, “Honestly, though, this is amazing. I can see why you love it.”

The corners of his mouth twitched into another smile, but this one was softer, more introspective. He reached for my hand, his fingers tangling with mine as he gave it a light squeeze. “I love it even more with you here.”

Before I could respond, a loud cheer erupted from the crowd as the players took the field. Hank’s attention immediately shifted, his grip on my hand tightening slightly as he started pointing out players. “See number 35 over there?” he said, nodding toward a pitcher stretching near the dugout. “That’s Logan Webb. He’s been lights out this season. If he’s locked in tonight, we’ve got a real shot.”

I followed his gaze, spotting the pitcher he’d been talking about earlier. The precision in his movements was impressive, even to someone like me who didn’t fully understand the intricacies of the sport. Hank’s enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself getting caught up in the moment, clapping along with the other Giants fans as they cheered their team onto the field.

Hank leaned in close again, his voice low in my ear as he started pointing out more players and strategies, his excitement bubbling over in a way that made my chest ache in the best way. He was so alive, so completely in his element, and I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my face as I listened to him.

It didn’t matter that most of the details went over my head—I wasn’t here for the stats. I was here for him, for the way his face lit up as he spoke, his words spilling out in a rush of enthusiasm that made my heart swell. Seeing him like this, so happy and so alive, was more than worth the price of admission.

“Alright,” he said after a moment, straightening up and adjusting his cap. “Let’s do this. Ready to watch the Giants crush it?”

I nodded, my grin matching his. “Let’s do it.” The game hadn’t even started yet, and I already knew this was going to be one of my favourite memories.

The game started with a bang, the first pitch slicing through the air to the roar of the crowd. Citi Field was alive with energy, every seat filled with fans on the edge of their seats. The Giants fans scattered throughout the sea of Mets blue and orange were loud and proud, matching the energy of the home crowd with chants and cheers. I could feel the vibration of it all in my chest—the sound, the excitement, the anticipation.

Hank was in his element. From the moment the game started, he’d been explaining plays and pointing out nuances I’d never have noticed on my own. “Watch this guy,” he said, nodding toward the batter stepping into the box. “Conforto. He’s got a mean swing, but if Webb keeps it low and away, he’s toast.”

Sure enough, the next pitch was a perfect sinker, and the batter swung so hard he almost spun himself around. Hank let out a whoop, clapping as I joined in, not entirely sure what had just happened but loving how excited he was.

By the third inning, I was fully invested. I’d been watching the game intently, picking up on more than I thought I would thanks to Hank’s running commentary. When the Giants turned a double play, the crack of the ball meeting the glove like thunder, I shot out of my seat, clapping wildly. “Yes!” I shouted, my voice blending with the other cheers around us.

Hank looked over at me, a mix of amusement and pride lighting up his face. “Look at you,” he said, his arm slinging comfortably around the back of my seat. “You’re into it. I think you might actually be more invested than I am.”

“Don’t get cocky,” I teased, shooting him a smirk. “I’m just trying to balance out all the Mets fans around us.”

He laughed, his hand briefly squeezing my shoulder before leaning in to press a kiss to my temple. “You’re the best.”

I felt a flicker of warmth at his words, but before I could respond, the crowd erupted in boos. The umpire had called a strike that, according to Hank, wasn’t anywhere near the plate. “What?” I shouted, standing up in protest along with the other Giants fans in our section. “Are you blind?”

Hank’s laughter was loud and sudden, his hand wrapping lightly around my wrist to pull me back into my seat. “Alright, calm down there, coach,” he teased, his grin wide. “You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

“Hey, I’m just sticking up for your boys,” I shot back, crossing my arms but unable to hide my grin.

His gaze softened, his fingers brushing against mine as they rested on the armrest between us. “I think I love you a little more right now.”

The comment was casual, playful, but there was something sincere in the way he said it, his eyes lingering on mine for just a beat longer than necessary. My chest tightened at the warmth in his voice, and I squeezed his hand lightly in return. “Good,” I said, my tone equally light. “Because I’m not done yet.”

As the next batter stepped up, the chants and cheers ramped up again, and I leaned in close to Hank. “Alright, what’s the strategy here?”

He grinned, his eyes flicking between me and the field. “Stay tuned. I’ll make a fan out of you yet.”

I rolled my eyes, but as the next pitch sailed across the plate and the batter connected with a solid crack, I knew he already had.

Between innings, Hank stretched in his seat and turned to me, his grin full of mischief. “Alright, rookie,” he said, nudging my knee with his. “Time for the next part of the baseball experience: snacks. What’s your poison? Hot dog? Nachos? Or are you one of those people who just wants a pretzel?”

“I’m offended you think I wouldn’t go for a hot dog,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “But nachos sound pretty great too.”

“Why not both?” Hank suggested, already rising to his feet.

I smirked, shaking my head. “Big spender. Fine, let’s do it. But don’t forget the beers.”

“Like I’d ever forget the beers,” he called over his shoulder as he headed toward the concession stand.

When he returned a few minutes later, balancing two fully loaded hot dogs, a tray of nachos, and two frosty beers, I couldn’t help but laugh. “You realise we’re only here for a few hours, right? Not a whole weekend?”

“Trust me,” he said, settling back into his seat and handing me one of the beers. “We’ll need the fuel. Baseball games aren’t sprints; they’re marathons.”

I took a sip of the beer, the cold, slightly bitter taste refreshing against the salty, cheesy goodness of the nachos I dug into next. As the game resumed, we alternated between shouting at the field and making jokes about who would drop something first. Unsurprisingly, Hank managed to get mustard on his jersey.

“Careful, Thompson,” I teased, handing him a napkin. “You’re supposed to eat the snacks, not wear them.”

He shot me a mock glare but took the napkin, muttering something about “rookies” under his breath. Still, the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement.

With the snacks loaded and drinks in hand, we settled back into the rhythm of the game, letting the crowd’s energy and the crisp bite of the beer carry us through the next inning.

In the fifth inning, as the energy in the stadium buzzed like electricity, the familiar jingle of the kiss cam echoed across the field. I glanced up at the giant screen, watching with amusement as the camera zoomed in on couples scattered throughout the stands. Some were shy, barely brushing their lips together, while others went over the top, dipping their partners back dramatically to the roaring approval of the crowd.

I chuckled, nudging Hank as one particularly enthusiastic couple earned a wave of applause. “Think they rehearsed that?” I joked.

He smirked, his attention half on the screen and half on the next batter warming up. “If they didn’t, they’ve got natural talent.”

I didn’t think much of it when the camera moved again, zooming in on another section of the crowd—until I realised it had stopped right on us. Our faces filled the screen, framed by a giant pink heart, and the crowd around us erupted into cheers and whistles.

“Oh my God,” I muttered, my eyes widening as the realisation hit.

Hank froze for a moment, glancing up at the screen and then back at me. His lips twitched into a grin, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well, looks like we’re up,” he said, leaning closer. “Can’t disappoint an entire stadium, can we?”

I laughed, my cheeks already warm from the attention. “Just don’t make it weird, okay?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, his tone mock-serious, though the playful glint in his eye told me otherwise.

Before I could respond, his hand came up to cup my face, his palm warm against my cheek. His thumb brushed lightly along my jawline, the gesture surprisingly tender for a moment so public. Then, with deliberate slowness, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.

The kiss was soft at first, almost teasing, but it deepened just enough to make my stomach flip. It wasn’t over-the-top or exaggerated—just sweet and genuine, with a touch of heat that left my cheeks burning for an entirely different reason. The crowd around us cheered louder, a few people hooting and whistling as Hank pulled back, his grin entirely unrepentant.

“You’re ridiculous,” I said, trying to sound stern, but the laugh bubbling in my throat ruined the effect.

“And you love it,” he replied, his tone smug as he settled back into his seat, one arm casually draped over the back of mine.

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t hide my smile. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he said, chuckling as he turned his attention back to the field. But his hand found mine, lacing our fingers together as the next pitch was thrown, and I couldn’t help but squeeze his hand lightly in return, the warmth of his touch grounding me amidst the chaos of the game.

By the time the sixth inning rolled around, the pace of the game had slowed slightly, giving the crowd a chance to catch their breath. Hank glanced over at me, then down at the nearly empty beer cup in my hand.

“Need a refill?” he asked, nodding toward the vendors weaving through the crowd.

“Definitely,” I said, tilting my cup toward him for emphasis.

He flagged down one of the vendors, passing me another cold beer before grabbing one for himself. “Gotta keep the good vibes going,” he said, holding his cup up in a quick toast.

“To good vibes,” I agreed, clinking my cup lightly against his.

As the inning resumed, I noticed Hank stealing glances at me every so often, his smile soft and full of something I couldn’t quite place.

“What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Just… I’ve been to a lot of games, but this one? It’s something else.”

I grinned, nudging him playfully. “You mean because of the nachos, right?”

“Obviously,” he teased, his grin widening. But the way his hand found mine a moment later, lacing our fingers together, made it clear what he really meant.

In the seventh inning, the atmosphere in the stadium had shifted. The Mets fans were louder now, buoyed by their team’s narrow lead, while the Giants fans were clinging to hope for a late rally. Hank had been animated through most of the game, cheering and analysing plays, but as the innings wore on, I noticed a subtle change. He grew quieter, his easy grin fading into a contemplative expression.

His knee started bouncing, a restless rhythm that seemed to echo his unease. His gaze was fixed on the field, but there was a distance to it, as though his thoughts were somewhere far beyond Citi Field. The tension in his posture was palpable, his shoulders stiff, his jaw set. I watched him for a moment, my chest tightening as I recognised the flicker of something deeper—something that went beyond the game itself.

“Hank?” I said softly, reaching over to place a hand on his knee. The movement stilled under my touch, and he glanced at me, his blue eyes clouded with a mix of emotions I couldn’t quite read. “You okay?”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering back to the field before returning to me. For a moment, I thought he might brush it off, but then he exhaled slowly, lifting his hat and running a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he said, though his voice was quieter than usual. “It’s just… watching them out there, it gets to me sometimes. Seeing them playing at this level, the energy, the stakes. It reminds me of… well, everything I thought I was going to do with my life.”

The rawness in his tone hit me like a punch to the gut. He rarely opened up about his past as a baseball player, the dreams that had been cut short by his injury, but in this moment, it was written all over him. The longing, the ache of what could have been, the quiet grief for a life that had taken a turn he hadn’t expected.

My heart ached for him, not just for the loss of his dream but for the way it still lingered in the shadows, waiting to catch him off guard. I wanted to say the perfect thing, to somehow take that pain away, but I knew it wasn’t about fixing it. It was about being here, showing him he didn’t have to face it alone.

I shifted closer, sliding my hand up to lace my fingers with his. His hand was warm and solid, but there was a slight tremor to his grip that made my heart ache. “You’re allowed to feel that,” I said gently, holding his gaze. “It’s okay to miss it, to wish things had been different. But don’t forget—you’ve done so much, Hank. You’ve built a life that’s yours. And that’s pretty incredible.”

He blinked, his expression softening as my words sank in. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, and the corners of his mouth lifted into a small, grateful smile. “You always know what to say,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of my hand. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Always,” I replied, squeezing his hand gently.

He leaned over, pressing a kiss to my temple, the gesture warm and grounding. I rested my head against his shoulder, my free hand coming up to trace idle patterns on his forearm. The roar of the crowd faded into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of his breathing and the soft thud of my heart.

We sat like that for a few moments, the game continuing around us, the energy in the stadium undiminished. But for us, the world seemed to slow, the connection between us taking precedence over everything else. It wasn’t about fixing anything or making the ache go away—it was about being there, side by side, facing it together.

Eventually, Hank straightened, his grip on my hand tightening slightly before he let it go. “Alright,” he said, his voice a little steadier now. “Let’s see if the Giants can pull this off.”

“They’ve got this,” I said with a confident nod, nudging him playfully. “And so do you.”

His grin returned, softer but no less genuine, and he reached up to adjust the brim of my cap. “You really are my good luck charm, you know that?”

“Damn right I am,” I said with a smirk, leaning back in my seat as the next batter stepped up to the plate. The game was far from over, and neither were we.

As the eighth inning stretched on, the tension in the stadium was almost unbearable. The Giants were still down by a run, and every pitch seemed to drag out longer than the last.

“I need something to do with my hands,” Hank muttered, his knee bouncing again as he leaned forward.

“Like what?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Peanuts,” he declared, already scanning the crowd for another vendor. “You can’t watch baseball without peanuts.”

I laughed, flagging down a nearby vendor and grabbing a bag for him. As I handed it over, I couldn’t resist teasing, “Anything else, your highness? Maybe a crown?”

“Very funny,” he said, cracking open the bag and tossing a peanut shell at me. “Keep it up, and I might not share.”

“Like I want your peanuts,” I shot back, though I couldn’t help stealing a handful when he wasn’t looking.

He caught me, of course, rolling his eyes fondly as he held the bag out for me to take more. “You’re lucky I like you,” he said, shaking his head with mock exasperation.

“Lucky me,” I replied with a grin, settling back into my seat. The tension of the game was still there, but the warmth between us made it easier to bear.

The ninth inning was pure chaos, a crescendo of tension that seemed to vibrate through every corner of the stadium. The Giants were down by one with two outs, and the bases were loaded. Every pitch carried the weight of the season, every swing a potential make-or-break moment. Around us, the Mets fans were on their feet, a wall of blue and orange chanting in unison for their closer to finish the job. The energy was electric, a mix of hope and dread that buzzed in the cool night air.

Hank was on edge, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his fingers laced tightly as though he were physically willing his team to pull through. I could feel the nervous energy radiating off him, and I found myself holding my breath alongside him.

The Giants’ batter stepped into the box, his stance steady, his eyes locked on the mound. The first pitch came in fast, and the batter swung hard. The crack of the bat meeting the ball echoed like a gunshot, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

The ball soared high into the night sky, a perfect arc carrying it deep into the outfield. The crowd collectively held their breath, heads tilting back as they followed its trajectory. It kept going and going, clearing the fence by a mile.

A grand slam.

For a split second, there was silence—disbelief hanging in the air like a fragile thread. Then the stadium exploded into chaos. Mets fans groaned in disappointment, their chants dissolving into a cacophony of frustration, while the pockets of Giants fans erupted in pure, unbridled joy. Black and orange flags waved frantically, and the cheers were deafening.

Hank shot to his feet, his arms flying up in a triumphant victory pose as he shouted, “Yes! That’s what I’m talking about!” His voice was raw, brimming with exhilaration, his entire body alive with the energy of the moment.

I jumped up beside him, clapping wildly and laughing at his sheer enthusiasm. Before I could say a word, he turned to me, his face alight with joy, his blue eyes sparkling like I’d never seen before. Without a second’s hesitation, he pulled me into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around me as he lifted me clean off the ground.

“You did it!” I shouted, laughing as he spun me around, his grip strong and steady despite his excitement.

“We did it,” he corrected, his voice ringing with triumph as he set me down. His hands stayed firm on my waist, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. The pure elation in his expression made my heart swell.

Before I could respond, he leaned in, kissing me with all the exhilaration of the moment. It was unrestrained and full of life, a kiss that carried the weight of celebration and connection, of everything we’d shared that night. The noise of the stadium melted away for a moment, leaving just us, tangled in the thrill of victory.

When he pulled back, his grin was wide and infectious. “This is the best game ever,” he said, his voice full of wonder.

“It really is,” I agreed, laughing as I brushed a strand of hair out of my face. “I think I’m officially a Giants fan now.”

Hank’s grin turned playful as he tugged me close again. “You already were. Tonight just made it official.”

The energy around us was still buzzing, fans shouting and clapping as the Giants rounded the bases, the scoreboard lighting up with their triumph. But in that moment, all I could focus on was Hank—the joy radiating from him, the warmth of his hands on my waist, and the way his eyes held mine like I was the only thing that mattered.

As we left the stadium hand-in-hand, the hum of the city mingling with the fading cheers from the stands, Hank couldn’t stop smiling. His grin was impossibly wide, the kind of joy that seemed to light him up from the inside out. “That was perfect,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ll never forget it. Seriously, best game of my life.”

The way he looked at me in that moment, his face glowing with a kind of happiness that seemed almost childlike, made me want to freeze time. There was something so pure about his joy, so unfiltered, that it felt like a privilege just to witness it. And the way he kept sneaking glances at me, like I was somehow a part of it all, made my chest tighten in the best way.

“Me neither,” I replied, leaning into him as we walked down the bustling street. The air was cool against my flushed skin, but his warmth at my side was more than enough to keep the chill at bay. “But I think my favourite part wasn’t even the game.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh yeah? What was it then?”

“Watching you,” I said simply, the words falling easily from my lips. “Seeing how much this means to you… the way you lit up with every play, every moment. It made it even better for me.”

Hank stopped walking, pulling me gently to a halt on the edge of the crowded sidewalk. The buzz of the city swirled around us—taxi horns blaring, vendors shouting, and fans streaming by in their respective team colours—but in that moment, none of it mattered. He turned to face me fully, his expression so soft and open it made my chest tighten.

“You’re something else, you know that?” he said, his voice low, full of quiet wonder.

I smiled, trying to tame a strand of blonde hair that had escaped his cap. “Guess you bring out the best in me.”

His hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over my skin. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he reached up and took off his Giants cap, turning it backwards before placing it back on his head. The playful tilt of the brim framed his face perfectly, and I felt my heart skip a beat at how effortlessly handsome he looked.

“Better?” he asked, his lips curled into that familiar, lopsided smile, the one that always managed to make my heart skip.

“Much better,” I murmured, my voice catching slightly.

Hank leaned in then, his other hand sliding to rest on the small of my back as he kissed me. His kiss was slow, deliberate, like he was laying everything bare without saying a word. It wasn’t just the kiss of a man celebrating a win; it was something deeper, something that made my heart ache and soar at the same time.

The world around us seemed to fade, the noise of the city blurring into the background as his lips moved against mine. His touch was steady, grounding, his fingers splayed gently against my back as though he were anchoring me to him. My hands slid up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palms.

When he finally pulled back, his lips lingered near mine, his eyes searching my face as though he couldn’t get enough of the moment. His thumb brushed along my jaw, and his hand settled lightly at the small of my back, keeping me close. The city buzzed around us, but it felt like we were the only two people in the world.

“I mean it,” he murmured. “Best night of my life. And it’s not just because of the game.”

My chest tightened, a wave of affection swelling in me so strongly it almost overwhelmed me. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know,” I teased softly, though my voice betrayed the emotion behind the words.

He chuckled, his fingers gently tucking a loose strand of my hair back into place, his touch lingering for just a moment. “I try,” he said lightly, but there was a seriousness beneath his tone that made my stomach flip.

We stood there for a moment longer, caught in the glow of the streetlights and the lingering energy of the night. Then he slid his hand into mine again, his fingers lacing with mine as he gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

“Come on,” he said, his grin returning as he started walking again. “We’ve got to celebrate this win properly. I think I know a place that serves the best post-game beer in the city.”

“Lead the way,” I said, falling into step beside him, my heart still racing from the kiss. As we disappeared into the New York night, my heart felt impossibly full. This wasn’t just about baseball, or even Hank’s team winning—it was about the way he made everything feel brighter, bigger, and somehow better. And I knew I’d never forget this night—because of him.

[stupidvillainousposts]

Ahh, more Werewolf Gene AU stuff

Stan would be terrible at teaching the pups how to be werewolves, I just know it

Stan: And then, once you've dropped the box in the hole, you turn around and bury it! Like you're playing a game of... uh... I dunno, would "Hide the Money" be considered a game?

Dipper: Grunkle Stan? Do we have to bury this money?

Stan: Kiddo, sometimes you have to bury an insane amount of money in the middle of the woods to make it in this crazy world.

Mabel, wagging her tail: Yeah, Dipper! We gotta beat the bank to the punch!

Dipper: The punch of what, though?

Stan: *Puts His Hands on the Kids' Shoulders* All the steaks and bones in the world.

Dipper and Mabel: Woooooow.

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

Dipper: Grunkle Stan? Grunkle Fidds?

Stan: Whaddup?

Fidds: Is somethin' wrong, honey?

Dipper: I mean... I wouldn't really say wrong, so much as... horribly terribly awful?

Stan, going tense: Dipper, what does that mean?

Dipper: Well... I may or may not have dared Mabel to blend a bunch of random food and toothpaste together and eat it all.

Fidds, completely exasperated: And why, pray tell, would ya do somethin' like that?

Dipper: She bit my ear too hard while we were playing...

Stan, relaxing slightly: Okay, so where exactly does the "horribly terribly awful" part come in?

Dipper: I think Mabel has food poisoning... werewolves don't have advanced immune systems, do we?

Stan: Not when we're eating things that would make Gordon Ramsay die on sight, we don't.

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

Mabel: Grunkle Stan? Why does Grunkle Fidds get so mad when me and Dipper accidentally pop his blood bags?

Stan: Well, those bags are the only thing keeping your Grunkle Fidds from going crazy and killing people, Pumpkin. He's gotta drink blood to survive, just like we've gotta eat meat.

Mabel: Okay, okay. Where does he get the blood from?

Stan: I think it's time we stopped talking for now.

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

Fidds, tucking Dipper into bed: G'night, Mason. Y'all have a good sleep.

Dipper: I'll sleep well when I figure out how to sleep without crushing my tail every time I sleep the wrong way.

Fidds: Aw, I'm sorry, hon. Would ya like me t' try and make ya somethin' t' sleep better?

Dipper: Nah, I'll just train my body to stay still like a log when I sleep. Then I'll be pain free!

Fidds: *Chuckles* Alright, Mason. Do what ya gotta do.

Stan, dragging Mabel into the room by her left leg: Comin' through with a stray! *Drops Mabel Onto Her Bed*

Mabel: *Squeals with Glee*

Stan, smirking: Alright, you. Sleep. Now.

Mabel: But Grunkle Stan! I'm not tired! *Passes Out Literally One Second Later*

Stan, to Dipper: Night, kid.

Dipper, trying not to laugh: Goodnight Grunkle Stan.

[monayen]

awawawa tysm! (*/∀＼*) then i'll req smth for 17 yo randal w a fem reader! like he's been ignoring reader because he's too busy playing lol or being an asshole on reddit so reader tries to get his attention in other ways--- ( ￣▽￣)

x_thedarkprince_x | Randal Ivory (17ndal)

➷ Paring - Randal Ivory (17ndal) x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - oral (m. receiving) / blowjobs, pet play, he stink *_*

a/n - i forgot how much i love this freak... i was gonna write him stinkier but im sick with an eye infection and im 90% sure me writing him infected me somehow. also i have never played league but i do watch arcane and play val so i think that's good enough. 'pologies if i got anything wrong in that aspect (not really) also header is @/tapi_taro_ on twt !!

A rhythmic clicking echoed against the dark walls of Randal’s room. It was late — far too late for him to be hunched over his computer, his eyes fixed on the flickering characters on the screen.

He knew it too. Luther had made it clear he wasn’t supposed to be playing this late, even threatening to confiscate his expensive setup if he caught him awake again. Yet here he was, ignoring every warning.

Your legs dangled off the side of the coffin he should've been in hours ago with you, tired eyes flickering at the blue light of the screen. Or more importantly, Randal. 

His long orange hair was disheveled, sticking up in all directions, unbrushed and greasy.  A string of drool hung from the corner of his mouth as he muttered curses under his breath, his razor-sharp teeth glinting in the glow of the monitor. Far too engrossed to even blink.

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. It had been days since Randal had given you more than a passing glance. A new season of LoL had started, and you were pretty sure his ass was permanently welded to his chair. The only times he left it were to use the bathroom or grab more soda. Has he even eaten?

Sleep was impossible with the constant noise. The rapid clack of his fingers on the keys, the drag of his mouse across the desk — it all kept you on edge. Even when you managed to drift off, there was always a sharp bang against the side of the table or a shout of some obscene curse, loud enough to snap you awake. And then, you’d have to fight to fall asleep all over again.

You huff in frustration, sitting up from where you’ve been laying against the coffin. “Randal?”

He doesn’t even flinch, his eyes fixed on the screen. For a moment, you wonder if he’s deliberately ignoring you, but the garbled voices from the game blasting through his headset make it clear that he just can't hear. 

You repeat yourself louder, and only then does he push one of his headphones aside, “What?” 

You make a face at his almost exasperated tone, his eyes still not moving towards you, “It's really late.”

He shrugs, lips pressing into a thin line as he shakes his head, barely glancing your way. “Yeah, well, I can’t pause. I’ll be there in a bit, sweetieee.” He drags out the last word with a teasing giggle before adjusting his headphones and continuing playing.

You stand up from the coffin, stretching your arms above your head. Your joints pop and crack, and you wince at the sudden movement. It's been a long day, and you're exhausted. But sleep isn’t going to happen unless he gets off the game.

You take a step towards him, your bare feet padding softly on the carpet. He's so focused on the game that he doesn't even notice you approaching. You lean over his shoulder, peering at the screen. 

He's losing, the game isn't even close. The string of chat logs of him and his teammates arguing in the corner catch your eye. You watch as Randal scowls, quickly typing something in chat. An IP address, but you’re pretty sure it's actually just a random string of numbers. 

Tilting your head, you ask, “Won't you get banned for that?”

Randal doesn't respond, too focused in the game to acknowledge you. You sigh again, a reaction would at least be nice. You're tired of being ignored, desperately wanting some type of attention, affection, anything to make you feel wanted. You're also just tired in general…

You place your hands on his shoulders, kneading the tense muscles. He tenses slightly at your touch, but doesn't pull away. You start to massage his shoulders, working out the knots that have formed from his terrible posture.

"Randal," you say softly, leaning down to whisper against his neck, even though he can't hear you, "You can play with something else…”

He shivers at your breath on his skin, but still doesn't turn to you. You huff, frustrated. 

You drop to your knees, crawling under the desk. You can see his feet, clad in mismatched socks, tapping impatiently on the floor. You reach up, running your hands up his calves, his thighs, until you reach his crotch. 

Taking a deep breath, you began to graze his crotch, him immediately shaking above you, "What are you – hey!" Randal finally noticed your actions, but he made no move to stop you as you continued to rub the fabric of his sweatpants. 

He lowers his headset, leaving them around his neck as he hunches over. “Bad girl! I’m literally about to derank!” 

You feel him stiffen under your touch. "Randal," you murmur again, your hand stroking him slowly. "I want to make you feel good."

Randal let out a shaky breath, his hips twitching forward. "I'm busy," he grumbled, but there was a note of desire behind his pitchy voice.

He makes a strangled noise when you squeeze, finally tearing his eyes away from the screen. He looks down at you, his black eyes lidded. “Fuck… my elo." he breathes, his hips bucking into your palm.

You smile, satisfied that you finally have some of his attention. You tug down his bottoms, freeing his cock. It's hard and hot in your hand, pulsing with need. You swiftly wrap your lips around the head, sucking gently.

Randal groans, his fingers tightening on the mouse. He's still playing, well… attempting to at least. His eyes keep darting back down to you, hands shaking against his keyboard and mouse. 

His thighs tremble more once you begin sucking on the sensitive tip harder, his focus faltering to groan, “C’mon – you can go deeper than that pet,” One of his hands leaves the desk, moving to grip the back of your head.

He groans, hips bucking into your mouth as he pushes your head down, "You're gonna make me lose." It's almost a whine, like it's a genuine bother for you to be down on your knees for him. But he doesn't stop you. If anything, he's pushing you down further, encouraging you with soft, desperate sounds. You take him deeper, tongue swirling around the length of his cock.

You moan around him, sending vibrations through his shaft. He gasps, fingers tangling in your hair.

"Shit, shit, fuck," he chants, voice rising in pitch. His thighs tremble, muscles tensing under your hands.

His free hand still clicks around on the keyboard, your eyes narrowing at the not-surprising ridiculousness of Randal still trying to play the game despite his dick being down your throat. 

You pull off his length with a pop, tilting your head sweetly, "Come on, Randal," you tease, stroking him slowly. "Is the game really that important?"

Randal whines, head thudding back against the chair. With a giggle, he nudges your head back down onto his erection, "I just told these virgins I’m getting my dick sucked, kekeke.”

You bob your head, taking him deep, swallowing around him. His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling sharply. “Hah, keep going pet.” he groans rocking his hips, fucking your face with shallow, needy thrusts. You double your efforts, sucking harder and taking him deeper in your mouth. 

"Fuck, fuck, swallow it–" he cuts off with a strangled cry, hips stuttering. You can feel him throbbing in your mouth, his body tensing. A quick pulse follows before he's flooding your throat. Quickly, you gulp, swallowing his cum down and not letting it leak out your mouth. 

He pants, a lazy grin spreading across his face. He looks down at you, his eyes half-lidded and hazy, slumping down slightly on the chair. 

Randal moves his hand from the back of your head to cup your cheek, his sharp teeth biting his lip, “Goooood pet.” 

Blushing at the praise, you finally crawl up when he moves his chair back, giving you space to get out from under the desk. “Are you sleepy now?” You ask, a cheeky smile on your face as you lean in closer to him. 

Randal lets out another strange giggle before leaning in to plant a quick, wet kiss on your lips.

“Gah, I can taste myself,” he grimaces, pulling back slightly. “Did I burn a hole in your stomach?”

You stifle a laugh and shake your head. “Randal.”

He catches the hint in your voice, finally giving in. With a dramatic sigh, he tucks his soft dick in and pushes up from his chair. “Turn off the monitor then, pretty please?”

You nod, watching as he scratches his ass before collapsing onto his coffin, immediately drifting off to sleep.

Turning to the monitor, you notice a bright red DEFEAT screen glaring back at you. Glancing at the chat, you see the last message a teammate sent before the game ended —

‘GGS report x_thedarkprince_x for throwing’

[alitlantern]

#𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍 ━━━━━━━━━ ⚖️ ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴛ / ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ / ꜱᴇʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴄᴀʀʀᴅ , ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ , ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ , ᴛᴀɢꜱ

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ��ᴜꜱᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜰɪᴛ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴛʜɪᴍʙʟᴇ.

𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━⚡ an unfriendly aesop: when a moral lesson conflicts with our understanding of "good."

― Melody, 29, they/she

― Account is 18+, NSFW is for 23+

― Disabled, chronically online, horrendous sleep schedule

― Right off the bat, I am sex positive, kink friendly, and a taboo safe haven. I don’t believe in “pro shipping” or anything of that ilk. As long as you’re an adult and not hurting anyone IRL, I beg you to write what you want. With me, even! I’ll write fucked up shit with you gleefully! Censoring will only aid the corrupt.

― Anti call out culture

― Haven’t been on Tumblr in probably 5 years, but I was here in the advent of RP and have a long, sordid history with it

― Iconless bc I’m not trying to screenshot games like that. It’s fine if you use them though!

― Don’t worry about matching my format, of course! I’m very lazy with it as it is

― Have played all the DA games + DLCs, working through the books now

― Constructive criticism about lore is always accepted!

― Brevity is the soul of art or whatever but I suck at it. Sorry :D

― Plotting >>>>

― I can usually bounce off of anything someone sends me, if plotting isn’t your jam, but I am here for the girls, the gays, and the theys that both want a 12 hour long yap session about every intricate detail and also write it all

― Explicit NSFW can be written on the dash if both parties are chill with it. If you wanna write it but don’t want it on the dash, I will be more than happy to move to Discord or Google docs! Also, I’m obviously just as happy to fade to black if need be.

― Favorite genres: Angst, hurt/comfort NSFW/erotica, fluff. I can roll with anything though

― Dark/Mature/Taboo themes will be mentioned; Anders is canonically a victim in many ways and I do not shy away from representing the fact.

― Please move ask responses to separate threads, linking to the original. Also, it doesn’t matter how much time has passed since I answered the ask; always feel free to turn anything into a thread!

― This is controversial but my biggest pet peeve is dropped threads. I’m disabled and have a very limited attention span, but I will still always go out of my way to not drop threads. It may take me weeks to reply, but no thread is ever dropped unless we’ve talked about it. I really hope for the same level of committment to this hobby from those I share it with

― Another controversial take; I don’t always follow with the intent to write. Yes, of course, I would love to write with absolutely everyone and will make that happen as much as I can, but I don’t think it’s a requirement to stay mutuals, or to even be friends! Sometimes I follow people just because I like the way they write, or I want to read their headcanons, or I mean to write with them in the future. I’m not in a rush here to figure out what to do with every last mutual. If that bothers you, please hard block me. No hard feelings!

― Dupes are welcome! We don’t have to write anything but I would love to be friends with people who love Anders as much as I do!

[bebiggerontheinside]

[puppyeared]

u know when youre bored of everything and it feels like theres a hole that youre trying to close but it just keeps sucking everything up

[kheprriverse]

Y’all thinking about an older Ares has RUINED me

[serenedash]

leans into microphone.

I don't listen to people that haven't played a new Kingdom Hearts game since 2006. Yes yes kh2 we all love it yes kh2fm is amazing yeah yeah we've all see kh2. Play more kh games, that is literally game number 3 in a series that's like 15 games ongoing. "It's confusing" it's just long as fuck so its a lot of information to take in and that's okay. People literally take so much time and care to explain the series and lore to people who are lost. Like just say you enjoy kh2's gameplay and move on, if you really cared about the series AS A SERIES you'd be paying attention to it as a whole. "Dream drop distance what a stupid title!!!" that is the LEAST stupid thing that has happened in this series. "It's on too many consoles" watch a cutscene movie. Read a wiki page! I own a Playstation TWO!!!!!!!!!! like I have nothing more recent other than my switch. Do you think I've played every game lmao??

Anyway stan kh mobile games I don't care if you don't like them its not a hot take by any stretch of the imagination to not like them. You should read my khux/dr plot summary actually <3

[triglycercule]

it must get boring as hell doing continuous repetitive genos like dust does. he probably constantly questions how his human can keep on going and like not get bored (me too tho ngl because what type of person is out there that's trying to minmax every single undertale geno route interaction???) so i say he changes things up during his own process for a variety of reasons

sometimes when he's feeling REALLY apathetic he might just view everyone as stats and precoded scripts and lines and he just goes about the geno as if he was a player playing a video game (this is incredibly hypocritical because he's acting like the player but also this is dust sans we're talking about. pinnacle of hypocrisy. he'd deny any sort of human like actions because he's not the human and what he's doing is for the greater good). also its kinda fucked because it just means that there's been so many resets that he doesn't view his friends and family as simply people that he's taking the lives of but more as just npcs and numbers. but yk of course he moves on from that episode (and refuses to acknowledge the fact that he was acting very much so like the human. nope nope nope)

or maybe whenever he feels really really really shitty about himself he just lets the human kill him sometimes. he purposely interacts with other monsters before he kills them so he has to hear them beg for mercy. he just lets himself wallow in as much guilt and pain and misery as possible because its really really addicting to be sad and upset and feel bad. and dust is never like "hey i should stop doing this because its getting in the way of be killing the human" because he knows damn well it ISNT. he's still gonna be on that him vs. human grind no matter what even if he spends a few resets fucking around and being miserable and the humans always gonna reset anyways. ALWAYS

even if he's not at lvl 20 or something but still above the human in lv then maybe he'd kill them. but then that also means that there'd still be some monsters left because he nor the human maxed out their stats. so then that's just more suffering for dust (because i really think he'd like to make himself suffer because he feels so much guilt for what he did. his suffering is self inflicted and he knows that and still does it. good for him) because he has to walk around the underground knowing that there are some people hiding in corner or something watching him and scared that he's gonna kill them because thats what he did to everyone else. some nicer monsters might go up to him and try to talk to him but dust doesn't have the chill welcoming friendly vibe sans does anymore so it's just creepy and awkward. angrier monsters might try and yell or fight him and dust just sits there and takes it because theyr totally right. to them it might just look like he killed monsters just for shits and giggles one day and theres no way for him to explain the resets without people just forgetting it in the first place so theres not much he can do except accept the suffering. what in the mental masochism

[napping-sapphic]

To be honest with you guys one of the things that makes me feel the MOST gay for no apparent reason is still every time i play an animal crossing game like i turn on my little consoles and boot up those little animals and it’s just like yeah as a gay person this makes complete sense

[crest-of-gautier]

oh that's a lot of gigabytes.