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kaiijo · 4 months ago

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DATES WITH HIM — [WIND BREAKER]

characters: suo hayato, kiryu mitsuki, umemiya hajime, hiragi toma, kaji ren, togame jo content: gn! reader notes: i did not come up with the date idea in suo's! also i recommend reading the mentioned works in suo’s part and listening to the song in kaji’s! obvious togame bias i’m sorry (but i’m also not)

suo hayato ✶ bookstore date

you saw the idea of a bookstore scavenger hunt date and it was too cute to resist. with your list in hand, you and suo make your way to your favorite neighborhood bookstore. the old lady who runs it greets the two of you before attending to other customers. suo leans over your shoulder to look at the first item. “find a joke to make your partner laugh.”

you make your way to the joke book shelf, where suo picks up a paperback titled 100 dad jokes to make anyone bust a side! he flips through it and lands on a page. “which days are the strongest?”

“i don’t know, which ones?”

he stares at you dead in the eye as he answers, “saturday and sunday. the rest are weekdays.”

you can’t help but snort and roll your eyes, and suo says, “we’re counting that!” and you check it off the list because you don’t know if you can take another cheesy dad joke.

you read out the next bullet point: “find a puzzle to conquer together.”

you find and complete a crossword puzzle in a magazine (you kept the magazine with you to buy later). your scavenger hunt list leads you through the travel section to talk about your dream vacation spots; the children’s section where you find your favorite childhood books; and the cookbook aisle where you find a recipe you both want to cook together. finally, the last task challenges you to find a poem that describes your partner.

you and suo split up in the poetry section for that. you thumb through pages and pages but nothing is able to capture just how you feel for suo. you find one finally just as he walks over to you, a poetry anthology in hand. you read to him kevin varrone’s “poem i wrote sitting across the table from you” and he recites joy harjo’s poem “for keeps.”

your heart feels like its about to burst as he finishes and you take his hand in yours, bring it to your lips for a kiss. his gaze is soft as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead.

kiryu mitsuki ✶ arcade date

you pout as you watch the final pac-man score flash on the screen in big, pixelated numbers: 150 to 170. kiryu ruffles your hair affectionately. “we’re all tied up again,” he says. “two to two. what do you want for the tie-breaker?”

you peer around the arcade, glancing at the flashing screens of various games. there’s street fighter, space invaders, and other classics but it’s the air hockey table that catches your eye. you nod at it. “settle the score over good old-fashioned air hockey?”

“sounds good,” he says and you two make your way over to it.

just as you arrive, another couple shows up. “oh, shit,” the other guy says when he and his girlfriend approach at the same time.

“sorry,” you say. “you guys can have it if you want.”

“no, no, you two came first,” the girlfriend says.

“it’s seriously fine!”

“no, really, it’s cool!”

you’re all at a standstill, neither party willing to takeover the table. instead, kiryu pipes up, “there are four pushers, why don’t we play on teams? a friendly competition.”

“i’m down!” the girl smiles and turns to her boyfriend. “what do you think?”

“i say we crush ‘em!”

“ooh, those are fighting words!” you call, looping you arm through kiryu’s. “ready to kick some ass, mitsuki?”

“always.”

the competition is fierce — the other couple is a lot better than you thought and you’re playing best of seven rounds. it’s the tie breaker and you narrowly manage to block a shot from the other guy. the puck bounces off the sides, hurtling across the board towards kiryu, who easily deflects it back. the volley goes back and forth and there are far too many times it almost sinks into their goal.

the other couple just blocks a shot again and the puck is heading for you. you hit it at the right angle and it just ekes past the defense, sliding into the goal to end the game 4 to 3. you congratulate each other on a good game and kiryu sighs, “i guess that settled the score between us too, huh?”

“what do you mean?”

“you made the winning goal.” he holds out the tickets he’s won. “let’s go get you a prize.”

umemiya hajime ✶ farmer’s market date

“whoa! these squash look so good! how did you grow them? did you plant them in may or june?” umemiya’s eyes are wide and bright as he listens intently to the farmer’s answer. you don’t think you’ve seen him this excited before, which is saying a lot given his enthusiasm for almost anything.

she smiles warmly at the two of you, asking, “how many would you like?”

“three,” you reply, reaching for your wallet, but umemiya is holding out the money for her before you can even open your bag.

the farmer shakes her head, gently pushing his hand back. “it’s on the house,” she says, plucking a packet of seeds from a small wooden crate at the edge of the stall. “and i’ll throw these in too, all free of charge!”

“oh, please, we insist,” you begin to protest but she just shakes her head again.

“it’s been a long time since someone has been this curious about my produce,” she chuckles, “and i’m not about to make a lovely young couple pay for this! all i ask is that you two raise the squash lovingly.”

“we will, i promise,” umemiya says, taking the bag of squash from her. as you two continue through the farmer’s market, umemiya interlocks your fingers, using his other hand to motion to the other stalls you pass.

he says, “we have tomatoes and cucumbers already but we need mushrooms! oh, those look good!” he already leading you to another vendor, surveying the cartons of wood-ear mushrooms. you raise a brow in amusement as he buys five cartons, humming a cheery song.

“what’s all this for, again?”

he beams at you. “the summer barbeque!”

“ahh, right!” you smile. “the infamous summer barbeque.” you glance around the market, pointing out a stall selling sausages and other meats. “i think we’ll want to get some protein, then, since your boys eat enough for a hundred men.”

“babe, you’re a genius!”

hiragi toma ✶ cooking date

make dinner at home for date night, they said. it’ll be fun, they said. you think anyone who said this is a fun, stress-free date is a total liar.

“alright,” you sigh as you clean the frying pan of egg residue for the third time. “well, fourth time’s a charm!”

hiragi pops a stomach tablet out of its packaging and chomps down on it. “you said that the last two times.”

“this one’s going to be the one!” you chirp, reaching for the egg carton. “it has to be, since these are our last four eggs.”

hiragi lets out a long, heavy breath before slipping his apron back on. “okay, one more time.”

hiragi throws a large tablespoon of butter down the pan, tilting the pan from side to side as the melting butter coats the surface. you crack the four eggs into the measuring cup and beat them with a whisk, tipping a little drop of it onto the butter. it sizzles promisingly and you and hiragi share a glance and nod, then you pour the eggs in.

you stir the eggs quickly with a pair of chopsticks, stopping as you see the omelet beginning to smooth. hiragi tilts the pan to let the uncooked egg mixture start to cook, doing his best to keep the curds even and level.

the new portion of eggs scramble and you spoon your chicken rice mix into the center of the omlet, roughly shaping it into an football-shape as hiragi kills the heat. “good?” you ask him, motioning with your chopsticks at the pile of rice.

“good.” he lifts the pan. “hot pan, coming through!” he places it on the damp rag on your counter. you slide the omlet to the edge of the pan, carefully wrapping the rice with egg on both sides. hiragi’s already moved to get a plate and you hold your breath as he slides it carefully onto the plate.

success.

you let out collective sighs of relief.

kaji ren ✶ concert date

you had spent hours in an online queue to get kaji tickets to see his favorite band for his birthday. luckily, the venue isn’t too long a train ride from makochi but when you severely undersold how many people can cram themselves into the venue.

kaji’s grip is firm as you weave your way through the crowd, pushing closer to the stage. some guy jostles you, grumbling under his breath, only to apologize when he faced kaji’s cold glare. your boyfriend manages to get the two of you to a decent spot near the front, just off right of the center.

“what song are you most excited for?” you ask him, speaking as close to his ear as possible. the din around you is getting louder and the crowd more electrified, so you know it’s starting soon.

“wasted nights,” he replies easily.

you hum, “that sounds familiar. it’s on the playlist you made for me, right?”

his mouth lifts into a small smile. “yeah, i think it’s number eleven or twelve.” just as he is about to add something, the lights around you begin to flash and pulse as the ambient music dies down. the band comes out to thunderous cheers as they take up their instruments.

even though you don’t know the band well, you can’t help but jump and dance with the crowd, and you sing along to parts you can remember. kaji’s not one for rowdiness himself but he thrives off the energy from it — you can see it in the way he bobs his head in rhythm, the way he seems completely in his element. as the fourth songs in the set transitions into the fifth one, a slower ballad this time, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pecks your cheek. “thank you again,” he says. “i’m glad i’m here with you.”

you burrow further into his side, swaying to the music. “happy birthday, ren.”

togame jo ✶ pottery class date

you tilt your head as the pottery wheel slows to a stop, examining the mug you were instructed to make. the rim is uneven and it’s leaning towards the left. togame’s isn’t any better given that his mug looks shorter and stouter than the rest of the class and the handle is fully too long. when the pottery teacher walks over, she offers a sweet smile. “beautiful work,” she says. “they both have a unique charm to them.”

“thanks, we totally meant to make them this way,” you say and she carefully brings them to the shelf where the other attendees’ mugs sit waiting for the kiln.

oddly enough, seeing your mugs together makes them look somewhat normal, almost like an eclectic set, and when you glance at togame, he meets your eyes and you two try to suppress your laughter, togame’s broad shoulders shaking with effort. as you stand side by side, washing your hands in the classroom’s sink, togame smirks. he reaches over and claps a hand on your shoulder, leaving a large, damp terracotta-colored handprint on your shirt.

you narrow your eyes and do the same, this time on the side of his own t-shirt. his hand touches your back and yours grazes his chest. you could probably do this forever but someone clears their throat behind you and you apologize as you actually finish cleaning up, stepping aside for another couple to wash themselves off.

togame drapes an arm around your shoulder as you leave the building, saying, “i think i won, babe.”

you know he’s talking about the stains all over both of your clothes but all you do is smirk at him. “i think i won, actually, since this is your shirt.”

he shrugs. “i wish i could be mad, but you look too good in my clothes to complain.”

bonus!

you return two weeks later when your “unique” mugs are primed for glazing. you two agreed to keep the final designs on your pottery a surprise so you sit as far away from each other with your backs turned. in the end, you two had similar ideas — he chose your favorite color as a background and painted on a pattern of your favorite flowers while you glazed your mug in orange and black with an attempt at a the lion face on the shishitoren jackets, albeit yours is way less threatening and much cuter.

your mugs sit in each of your cabinets at your homes in all their uniquely beautiful glory, your new favorites — well-used and well-loved. one day, they’ll be together again, side-by-side in a cabinet that you two shared together.

#wind breaker x reader #wbk x reader #suo hayato x reader #suo x reader #kiryu mitsuki x reader #kiryu x reader #umemiya hajime x reader #umemiya x reader #hiragi toma x reader #hiragi x reader #kaji ren x reader #kaji x reader #togame jo x reader #togame x reader #wind breaker imagines #wind breaker scenarios

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ckret2 · 5 months ago

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Chapter 59 of human Bill Cipher possibly not being the Mystery Shack's prisoner because he got executed two chapters ago:

Everything you haven't wondered about how Bill survived his execution.

7:27 a.m.

Mabel didn't know why, but figuring out when to ask Mrs. Grendinator to pull over had felt as stressful as trying to throw a ping pong ball into a passing car's open fuel door to land in the little fuel pipe. All she had to do was ask to pull over after they'd passed everything but the last truck stop, but before it was too late for Mrs. Grendinator to make the turn into the Triple Digit parking lot. That was a large window. It wasn't easy to miss. Somehow Mabel still dreaded that she'd speak up too late and Mrs. Grendinator would say she'd have to wait for the next rest stop—by which point Bill would have splatted like a bug against the weirdness barrier while everyone else passed safely through.

But she'd managed to blurt out "I forgot to use the bathroom at home. Can we pull over?"; they'd stopped at the Triple Digit Truck Stop; and Mabel made it inside before her friends could catch her.

She locked the unisex restroom door, set her backpack on the ground, opened it up, and sighed with relief when she saw Bill sitting on her sweater. She carefully pulled him out, set him on the floor, and pointed the height-altering flashlight at him.

For a moment after returning to his true size, he remained seated on the floor, legs bent, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Worriedly, Mabel asked, "You okay?"

"Think I learned what motion sickness is," Bill groaned. "Just—gimme a sec."

"Aww, I'm sorry." Mabel surreptitiously checked in her backpack to make sure Bill hadn't been sick on her sweater. (It was a cool one. It had kissing parrots.)

After a few deep breaths, Bill lifted his head enough to look at Mabel. The first thing he said was, "'Cool big brother-slash-sister,' huh?" He gave her a queasy, but cheeky, grin.

"Shut uuup you weren't supposed to hear that!" She'd just about died with embarrassment when Candy had repeated that where she knew Bill could hear.

"I'm flattered." Bill uncurled himself from his nauseous half-fetal position; and then, gripping onto the sink for support, got back to his feet. "Being smaller again was nice, but I'm never traveling like that again."

"You're such a whiner."

"Yeah, yeah. I have a lot to whine about. I'm dead and about to be executed. Talk about... lose your cake and... not-eat it, too."

Mabel laughed. Bill mussed her hair, grinning, and said, "Hey, you've got no room to laugh, you're the one with the not-setting-houses-on-fire bit."

"Arrrgh, don't remind me!" She pushed Bill to the side so she could use the mirror to straighten out her hair again.

"You did pretty well, though! I'd say that was some of the best acting I've ever seen out of you."

"You too! They definitely bought it," Mabel said. "Even Grunkle Stan was getting worried."

"Especially back in the kitchen, wow! That was really convincing." He paused. "Really, really convincing."

Something heavy hung in the air. Mabel focused on her hair in the mirror.

Bill said, "That bit in the kitchen about me 'depending' on you." He exaggerated the air quotes around the word, distancing himself from the concept. "It wasn't on our list."

"Yeah. It just kinda... seemed right. Improv." Mabel waved unenthusiastic jazz hands.

"It bothers you."

Mabel winced. "I mean... I'm not actually mad at you. But. I want to help, but I don't know what to do for..." She gestured at Bill. "The whole being dead on an alien planet issue."

"Believe it or not, the hoodie helps," Bill said. "Listening helps." But he couldn't meet her gaze; he was fiddling with his friendship bracelet instead. He had to know how heavy even just listening to him could be.

"I'm glad, but... I just... wish you had more friends you could talk to."

Bill nodded morosely. "So do I." It wasn't like he'd chosen to only have one friend, was it? Prisoners didn't get to make those kinds of decisions.

Mabel asked, "Do you really think I think you're just a summer fix-it project?"

"I... pfff... come on, I watched you spend all last summer handing out makeovers and dating advice. You've already done my makeup, taken me clothes shopping, and tried to pump me for info on what kinds of freaks I'm into."

(Mabel quietly filed away the fact that Bill referred to "freaks" as his preferred romantic targets.)

"That's how your summer was going to end," Bill said. "You tame the monster, go home triumphant, and don't worry about it anymore. Like how you patched up Broken Heart's love life and left him to sort out the consequences."

"No!" Mabel huffed, "I mean—maybe a little at the beginning, but... you're really my friend now, I'd hate it if I never saw you again. I don't give friendship bracelets to just anybody!"

Bill kind of thought she did; but he wasn't about to argue. "Well, I've only given one person a bracelet, and I meant it." (Even more now than when he'd originally made it.) "You're never getting rid of me now, star girl. You're stuck with me forever!"

Coming out of Bill Cipher, the promise should have filled her with dread. A month ago it would have filled her with dread. But Mabel just found it comforting. "Good."

(And Ford hadn't felt any dread when he'd sworn "until the end of time," either.)

Bill took off his backpack and rummaged through it. "Now let me make sure I can keep that promise."

He took out a map of the mountains and forest around Gravity Falls and spread it out on the floor for them to kneel in front of. "You know about the spaceship buried under town? When its ring cut through the mountain, a few chunks of the ship dislodged and were buried in one of the mountains. No human has ever found them before, not even your great uncle. That's where I'll hide."

"Are the chunks big enough to hide in?"

"Sure! There's one that'd serve as a decent studio apartment. Well—the cheapest studio apartment in Manhattan, maybe. But, hey, I don't have much furniture."

On the map, he showed Mabel a route to reach the base of the cliff, tracing it with his finger. She couldn't afford to take a map with the route marked; if the adults discovered Bill's escape and confiscated Mabel's possessions, a marked map would lead them straight to him. She'd just have to do her best to memorize the route he described. "When and if the coast is clear, you can come find me there."

"How do I get up the cliff?"

"Don't worry about that. You make it that far, I'll take care of the rest."

And that was all they could afford to discuss. Mabel couldn't hide in here for long. As Bill refolded the map (and Mabel was awed to learn he was the kind of person who could refold maps correctly on the first try), and he packed the map and the height-altering flashlight in his backpack, they each tried separately to figure out how to get around to saying goodbye.

"I uh... I know you're sticking your neck out for me, kid." (Bill wasn't used to this, wasn't used to people who didn't help him due to fear or duty or lies, wasn't used to people who still wanted to help him after they knew what he was really like.) "So, thanks—"

Mabel flung her arms around him. Her voice thick, she said, "I think your manners are getting better."

"Shut up, I've always known how to say thanks." It was gratitude that was new.

"Be safe out there," Mabel said. "Don't die, or else. Remember to eat. And drink water! And do laundry sometimes."

"All right, all right. You'll find me in better health than you left me. All the sunshine and fresh air this body can take."

"I'll miss you."

Keep it together, Cipher. He swallowed hard. "Have you ever heard the song 'We'll Meet Again'?"

"Uh-uh?"

"Old war song. Look it up once you're in Portland, when you aren't busy having synthesizers pumped in your ears."

"Is it about... how we'll meet again?"

"Yes, smartypants. Look it up anyway," Bill said. "I'll miss you too."

Mabel washed her face, left the restroom, and shut the door behind her; and Bill waited in the dark while everyone left.

####

7:45 a.m.

A woman with two children opened the unisex restroom door, and gasped in shock when she saw a human silhouette lurking in the dark, one eye shining.

"Hey, thanks, lady! Couldn't get the door for some reason." He breezed past her. "Careful, it sticks from the inside."

He grabbed an empty backpack for sale, and loaded it up with supplies, food, and drinks. (The good stuff, not the weak cider he got in the Mystery Shack. He was making margaritas tonight.) He headed up to the cash register... veered to a currently-unmanned register, stole a handful of loose change out of a tip jar, and timed his exit so he walked out just as a man walked in and kindly held the door for him.

####

7:55 a.m.

It was a fair walk from Triple Digit back to the cliffs around Gravity Falls. When Bill was a safe distance into the woods, he unzipped his first backpack, retrieved his flattened top hat, and popped it out; and then continued on, behatted and using his umbrella like a cane.

Even with no sleep, even just a couple of days after the worst hiking trip in history, even tired and sore from an hour of frenzied dancing, even carrying two full backpacks with one strap slung over each shoulder, even with the sky gloomy and overcast—this was the best he'd felt since Weirdmageddon.

His steps were sure, his body was unchained, and the future had opened up for him again.

####

8:00 a.m.

Mabel kept glancing out the window, back in the direction of Gravity Falls, waiting and waiting to see the light of some kind of killer laser cut through the sky.

Maybe the Quantum Destabilizer's beam just wasn't visible from this far. Maybe they'd decided to wait to execute Bill. Maybe they hadn't wasted their shot because they'd already discovered Bill and Mabel's ruse. Maybe the "enchantment" Bill had written hadn't done its job.

But if they had discovered Bill was missing, they would've called Mabel immediately, trying to find out what she'd done and where he'd gone.

Her phone sat hard and heavy and silent in her pocket.

The butterflies in her stomach didn't stop fluttering until long after they reached Portland.

####

10:30 a.m.

Plus or minus a few trees, the rendezvous point at the base of the cliff was just how Bill had remembered last seeing it millennia ago. The Trilazzx Betan proximity sensor that had been embedded in the cliff face since the ship crash was still there and still sensing, even after millions of years and a layer of stone had closed around it. He could see it behind the face of the cliff; and it could see him.

He took out the multi-tool pocket knife Dipper had "donated" to Bill's supplies, flipped out the blade, and carved his face in a tree far enough from the rendezvous point to avoid notice by anyone who found this spot, but near enough it could see anyone who showed up. He made it as accurate as he could—hat, bow, limbs, eyelashes. That would unfortunately make it easier for humans to identify the face if anyone happened to walk by, but his ability to connect to his other eyes was still weak, he needed as much of a boost as he could get. He licked the bark, leaving his saliva to connect the eye on the tree to him.

And then he returned to the rendezvous point at the base of the cliff, and, beneath the watchful eye of the proximity sensor, began digging in the dirt with his hands.

Beneath the soil, fortunately not buried too deep, was a stone shaped like a small tombstone with several symbols carved into its surface that superficially resembled common runes. Bill brushed the dirt off of his leggings and rubbed it out of the carved lines in the stone. It was lucky that today was overcast; it would make this thing a lot easier to control.

Bill took out the flashlight, removed the height-altering crystal, turned it on, and aimed the beam at the topmost rune.

The runes began glowing an eerie green.

The ground shuddered; and then a patch of ground five feet in diameter lifted up into the air, carrying Bill with it, tearing the grass at the edge of the circle, propelled by a long-forgotten enchanted stone platform concealed in the clump of dirt.

He rose to the gouge that the spaceship had carved into the mountain; and then he moved his flashlight's beam to another rune. The platform smoothly shifted to moving sideways, gliding beneath the ancient overhang. When he turned off the flashlight, the stone stopped glowing and gently settled to the ground. Bill stepped off, fished a spare shirt out of his backpack, and pulled it over the rune-covered stone so it couldn't take off if the sun came out. There was a reason this buried stone was the only platform of its kind left in the area outside of the deep mountain caverns: leave one outside on a sunny day where the light can hit its runes, and next thing you know it's zoomed out over the Pacific and is quickly rising toward space.

He surveyed the area. Every once in a while humans climbed up here just for the challenge of it, delightful little explorers they were; but he doubted anyone had been up here in decades. He stood in front of what was, to all appearances, a completely nondescript patch of stony ground; and he said, in heavily accented but intelligible Trilazzx Betan, "Let me in, you hunk of junk. Activate emergency crash protocols."

A fragment of ship deep beneath the ground stirred awake, registered the command, analyzed itself and concluded from the fact that it wasn't in space and was separated from 99% of the rest of itself that it had indeed crashed, and activated emergency crash protocols. In acknowledgment of the dire situation, it deactivated its usual authorized personnel list—there was no sense in waiting for the captain to approve new orders if the captain might be dead—accepted the command given by the unknown being above it, and opened its hatch.

Millions of years of solid stone groaned and buckled in protest at being moved; but Trilazzx Betan engineering was strong enough for the framework of a portal capable of ripping a hole between dimensions without being ripped apart itself. The stone yielded first. A hatch swung up, revealing a tilted chamber descending into the cliff.

Bill strolled confidently down the walkway. "Cancel distress signal. Disable life support's air filtering." The fragment of a ship beeped a warning, and Bill responded, "I'm aware of this planet's high oxygen content. You worry about your health, I'll worry about mine. Disable air filtering." The ship beeped a confirmation. "Reconnect to all external proximity sensors in range and display on screens one, two, and three." This broken part of the ship had once handled communications. It had a whole wall of screens. He wondered whether he could jury rig this thing to pick up human satellite TV. Nah, probably not worth the effort.

He slung off his backpacks and started unpacking.

####

12:04 p.m.

It was time.

Dipper sat on the floor and put his head in his hands. He felt sick.

He was dead. In just a few seconds Ford would discover that Bill was gone—Dipper was sure he was gone, they hadn't heard a peep from the room, Mabel must've snuck him out or left him some escape route—and then Ford would know that someone had warned Bill and Mabel, and then Dipper was dead—

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Dipper waved Ford off. "Just... didn't get much sleep. Little dizzy." Ford would never trust him again. Stan would be furious. They'd both be furious.

"You can go downstairs if you..."

"No no, I'm fine, I..." Dipper took a deep breath and lifted his head. "I'll face it." Better to get it over with now than to hide downstairs and wait for it.

Stan nodded. "Good man." He wouldn't be so proud of Dipper in a moment.

Ford nodded, stood, opened the door—and Dipper buried his face in his hands again.

####

12:06 p.m.

Ford could see Bill up in the loft, hood up and shoulders hunched, back to the room. Ford could shoot Bill in the back without him ever waking up.

He climbed into the loft. Bill lay curled up in a ball, a small as Ford had ever seen him.

But it only took a moment for Ford's eyes to adjust to the dark; and even in the dim light through the stained glass window, he could tell:

The shape in front of him wasn't human. Just lumpy clothes.

Ford whipped around, heart pounding, clutching the Quantum Destabilizer's carrying case against his chest, searching for the real Bill lurking somewhere in the shadows. No sign of him. Ford had already looked on the floor level. Was he gone? How?

He was too dumbfounded to be outraged. He walked up to the dummy to pull it apart—

And saw the paper, folded in quarters, floating in the air above it. Four symbols in a cipher were written atop the paper. Ford recognized them: it was the alien alphabet of an interdimensional pidgin used as a written lingua franca throughout the Nightmare Realm and its bordering regions; it was so widespread that Ford had learned the alphabet before he ever left Earth.

The four letters read, "F O R D".

Ford plucked the paper out of the air and unfolded it.

Stanford–

I'll cut to the chase. I need your help. I don't want to die.

I'm banking on the hope that, in spite of everything you've said and done, part of you also doesn't want me to die.

You have a choice. You can walk out there, tell them I escaped, rally an angry mob, and comb everything under the weirdness barrier for me. This town's not that big and I'll need to eat eventually. We both know I can't hide forever.

Or you can tell them you finished the job. No one looks for me. No one knows but you and me.

I don't have rewards or deals to offer. You already know what I bring to the table. If that hasn't persuaded you to side with me by now, it never will. I'm not bargaining. I'm begging.

I'm asking you, as my friend, to help me survive.

Please.

· –·-– -–

Of course.

How dare he.

Had Bill planned this all along? Was this why he'd insisted he wanted to be Ford's friend? Was this why he'd saved his life? Maybe the entire rescue had been staged—the rescue, the performance of fear over a harmless phenomenon, the mental breakdown, all of it. For all Ford knew, maybe the accursed Axolotl was in on the scheme! How clairvoyant was Bill? Had he seen this moment coming?

But if he'd seen this moment coming, wouldn't it have been easier to just let Ford, his executioner-to-be, die? Ford and Dipper both, so Dipper wouldn't figure out how to synthesize NowUSeeitNowUDontium? If he'd saved them in spite of that, didn't that make it a sincere gesture?

But implication was clear: I've been a friend to you, now be one to me. A life for a life. There was nothing sincere in that. It was pure self interest.

(For just a couple of days, Ford really had thought it was sincere.)

But if the only reason Bill had saved Ford was to save himself—then why had Bill endangered his own life in the process?

With every thought Ford's paranoia pendulumed.

He should get Stan. Call the cops, confess who they'd been harboring for the past month, tell them everything, get a manhunt going before Bill could make it any further away. Even if he couldn't leave the weirdness barrier, there were probably hundreds of hidden hidey-holes Bill could dig himself into that humans had never seen—unexplored hallways in Crash Site Omega, uncharted caverns behind Trembley Falls where Bill didn't even need light to see. They could drag him back into the light, tie him up, aim the Quantum Destabilizer straight at him...

But. In spite of himself, he could still see Mabel's drawing hopefully reassigning Bill the role of a superhero. He could still see the crumpled drawing in his pocket—"I BELIEVE IN YOU. YOU CAN CHANGE!" He could still see Dipper tentatively asking whether they might need Bill someday. He could still see Bill playing teacher in the living room. And for a moment, for just a moment, Bill had been so good. He could be so good.

Why couldn't you have been this person?

Why can't you be this person?

What if he could be better? What if he could be decent? What if he could be a friend?

Ford didn't believe Bill was any better today than he had been the day he died. But—at some point, something had slowly turned over in Ford's mind. He believed that Bill could change. Not would change, not is changing, but could. And if Ford started a manhunt, Bill would never be a threat again—but he'd also never be better.

There was a point where the doubt and hope built up to a critical mass—when they became enough, just enough, to stay the trigger finger. Because once Ford fired on Bill, that was it. All chances were gone forever. It was over. If Bill was alive they could always try again to kill him later; but if Bill was dead, they could never try again to better him.

And for the first time in thirty years, Ford wanted Bill to be better more than he wanted Bill to be dead.

Ford looked at the dummy. Looked at the note.

And then he lay the note on the dummy, knelt by the edge of the loft, opened his case, and removed the Quantum Destabilizer.

####

12:09 p.m.

Ten minutes ago, Bill had been in the process of emptying out his backpacks and finding nooks and cubbies amongst the alien communication workstations where he could tuck his supplies, when he'd glanced out the open hatch and noticed the beforeimage of the shot lighting up the sky.

He'd come out of his shelter to watch the moment approach; but he hadn't quite believed it until it was in the present and actually happening. The blue-white beam of the Quantum Destabilizer—its one and only shot—screamed off into the sky.

"Well, what do you know," he murmured, standing at the edge of the cliff, hands on his hips, staring out in wonder over the town. "I really didn't think you'd do it."

Ford had saved his life.

Bill crossed his arms tight and tried to convince himself he didn't wonder why.

####

12:10 p.m.

Ford heard Dipper and Stan come into the bedroom and climb the ladder. He was seized by an urge to sweep away the ashes and the evidence of his trick before they could realize what he'd done.

"Grunkle Ford...?"

He forced himself to speak. "It's done."

"So... Bill is...?"

Ford suddenly realized: Dipper knew Bill wasn't in here. He must have warned Mabel, and Mabel had arranged for Bill to be alone in their room long enough to escape.

Which meant Dipper knew Bill was alive.

(Bill had written, "No one knows but you and me." Bill was covering for the kids.)

Ford turned to look him in the eyes. "Yes, he's dead."

Which meant Dipper knew what Ford had done—and knew Ford knew what he had done.

Neither one of them needed to say anything else to know what the other was thinking. They just shared a look—the two most miserable co-conspirators in Gravity Falls.

####

12:25 p.m.

Bill sat cross-legged at the edge of the cliff and watched until the afterimage of the Quantum Destabilizer's shot had faded from the sky; and then he went inside his shelter, mixed the world's lamest margarita in a coffee mug, took it outside, sat again, and toasted toward the town and the Mystery Shack.

Here's to survival.

He sat outside until the gash the Quantum Destabilizer had cut in the clouds closed and it began to rain.

####

1:10 p.m.

Stan had come and gone a few minutes ago, and already Ford had forgotten everything he'd said, if he'd even registered it in the first place.

His fingers had itched until he'd finally had a moment to steal down to his study, retrieve Journal 5, and bring it up to the guest room; and now for over half an hour he'd been feverishly writing down every single thing he could remember learning about Bill over the last two days. The drawing of his homeworld. His lecture on biangles and psychic powers. How polygons inherited their sides. (Their royalty sounded nigh on Habsburgian; had their political system ever changed?) What little details Bill had let slip about where Edward Bishop Bishop's book was wrong. (Had he told Mabel more about their relationship? He'd have to ask when she was home.) How Bill signed his letter: "· -·-- --", Morse code for "EYM," was it an acronym, was it a code, what did it mean, why did he write it in two colors? How Bill spelled Mabel's name in alien alphabets: Mabelle, Maybell, the varying extra letters. How Bill danced: how he struggled to cross his ankles, how he turned out his feet, how his spine and shoulders never bent, how the complex ways he tilted his legs and pelvis compensated for his stiff spine.

If Bill was sticking around a while longer, then these details still mattered.

He refused to forget a thing.

####

Sunday, 12:02 a.m.

As "We'll Meet Again" finished playing, Mabel turned off her phone, put it back on her nightstand, and wiped her eyes again. Big stupid dork couldn't even say this himself, he had to hide it behind a song.

Yes. They would meet again. Law of attraction. Believing it was the first step to making it come true.

####

10:20 a.m.

The fearful butterflies in Mabel's stomach had slowly returned during the drive home from Portland. No one had texted her—was that a good sign?—but she was afraid it just meant they'd decided to let her enjoy the rest of her trip before letting her know she was grounded forever for helping Bill escape. When they'd all greeted her at the door, looking so somber, and she was sure she was about to get the bad news, she'd just had to keep acting normal and hope she wasn't gonna get in more trouble for playing dumb.

The last thing she expected Stan to say was, "Weshotim."

"Say wha?"

"We got that—space gun of Ford's working. We shot him. He's... I'm sorry, sweetie."

Mabel stared at Stan. That was impossible—there was no way they'd found Bill. But—if Stan believed he was dead...

She dragged her gaze from his face to Dipper's. Dipper bit his lips, staring at his feet. He wouldn't meet her eyes—too afraid that even looking at her would give something away.

She looked from Dipper to Ford. "Grunkle Ford?" She tried not to hope. "Is it true?"

There was no way he'd believed the dummy was real. The moment she'd read Bill's so-called "enchantment," she'd known making it believable was never the point. Bill's only real plan had always been to get Ford on their side.

For a long moment, Ford said nothing. He dragged his eyes up to meet her stare, took a deep breath, and nodded. "He's dead."

Mabel's eyes widened. Two days ago, Ford had been the one arguing that killing Bill was their only choice. If he'd changed his mind...

If anyone said anything else, she didn't register it in her excitement. She backed out of the doorway, leaped off the porch, and ran around the shack, looking for her bike.

She had to see Bill immediately.

####

10:21 a.m.

Quietly, Dipper asked, "Did we do the right thing?"

Ford didn't know. His stomach had been twisting with guilt and doubt since yesterday. His conscience had kept him up half the night. "I hope so."

He feared they'd have second-guessed themselves no matter what.

####

2:30 p.m.

Bill was asleep. He'd been sleeping off and on for most of the past day. This was the first time since he'd died that he had somewhere safe to sleep—somewhere nobody could touch his vulnerable body, nobody could move him, drown him, kill him.

And this was the first time he hadn't been helpless and sightless.

In his sleep, he saw his own body, curled up on the tilted floor against a wall, on top of the sleeping bag and under the Pony Heist bedsheet, from an eye he'd drawn on the ceiling.

From another eye he'd drawn on the wall, he saw the ship's open hatch, the overhang above, a small sliver of the gray drizzly sky over Gravity Falls.

And from his eye on the tree, blurry and fading as the rain washed away his saliva, he saw a human-shaped mass of raucous colors exploring the pit in the ground left behind by his hovering platform.

A human? He sat up with a gasp and looked at the screen displaying the proximity sensors. Sure enough, the sensor at the base of the cliff was displaying a Mabel-shaped silhouette.

He grabbed his flashlight and climbed out of his shelter.

####

"Kid, what are you doing out out here?!"

Mabel looked up. Bill was some twenty feet above her and quickly descending on what looked like a chunk of flying dirt the same size as the pit in the ground she'd been inspecting. "Bill!" She leaned her bike against the cliff face. Finally—she'd been wandering around in the trees forever trying to figure out where Bill's rendezvous point was hidden.

"It's pouring rain," Bill scolded. "You could lose your immune system or—or slip in the mud or something."

"Wow, nice to see you too, mom." Mabel ran up as Bill landed his floating chunk of ground.

"Hey, I don't want anything happening to my favorite human!" He scooted over to make room for her on the platform. "Just couldn't wait for a sunny day to meet again, huh?"

"Psh, come on! Like you meant that literally." Near Bill, the rain had mysteriously stopped landing on Mabel. She looked up and saw the rain simply parting in the air over Bill's head.

He noticed her glance and said, "Did I ever teach you the spell to repel rain? Remind me to do that before you go." He pointed his flashlight's beam at a rune on a stone rising from the platform, and it lifted off again. "Nice sweater today." He poked one parrot-winged sleeve, its bright colors darkened by the soaking rain. "It probably looked better dry."

Mabel smacked away his hand. "Bill, guess what! Grunkle Ford decided to protect you!"

"I know, I saw the wasted shot from here." He steered the platform onto the cliff. He landed it next to a hatch that opened into a subterranean tunnel. "Of course, I always knew he would. Didn't I say we'd pull this off?"

Sure he'd known. That was why he'd lied about what the "enchanted" paper really was so Mabel wouldn't worry.

Mabel followed him down into the metal tunnel. "Do you know what this means? You can come back to the shack!"

Bill turned to stare at her in bewilderment. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because... it's safe now? They're not gonna kill you?" Mabel squinted. "Why's it so dark in here?"

"Oh, right. You need this." Bill offered the flashlight.

Mabel turned it on. They were in a metal chamber, about half the size of the Mystery Shack's floor room and nowhere near as tall. One end of it had been torn off and dirt and stone served as the new wall. Most of the walls were dominated by heavy metal consoles, curved metal chairs, and screens, a few of which were on but flickered irritatingly. One chair still had a fossilized alien skeleton in it. Bill had put his top hat on it.

His supplies were piled haphazardly on consoles and the floor; all Mabel saw in his food pile was shelf-stable junk food and drinks. The air somehow felt more damp in here than it did outside with the rain. The chairs didn't have cushions, the floor didn't have carpet; everything was hard and cold and dark. She didn't even see a door for a bathroom in here. This was where Bill was staying?

"The Mystery Shack is safe for now," Bill said. "Just wait until Stanley decides to take another swing at me, or Dolores poisons my dinner again—or Ford changes his mind, dunks me in the bathtub, and doesn't let me back out."

"They wouldn't..." Mabel trailed off. She tried to imagine how mad Stan would be when he found out Bill was alive, and had to concede he might.

"Even if it was safe—why would I go back to that sorry makeshift prison?" Bill hopped up into one of the tilted alien chairs. There was a weird extended bit designed for alien anatomy that curved up at the end of the seat and forced Bill to straddle the chair rather than sit in it normally; it didn't look comfortable. "After almost a month and a half, I'm finally free!"

"Free inside a tiny bubble around the town," Mabel protested. "To live in a... weird little metal dirt room."

"Freely moving inside the entire barrier is a lot better than freely moving through half a shack! Surrounded by people who want me dead! I don't even get full privacy when I'm using the toilet—that's the bare minimum humans offer as basic respect! You don't know how many times I've been walked in on!"

"Do you even have a toilet here?"

Bill hesitated. "There's a—there are gas stations within walking distance."

"How are you gonna get into the restroom?"

"Fine, I'll dig a pit or something, all right? The point is, whatever I do, at least I can do it in freedom!"

He hadn't planned this through at all, Mabel realized. He'd only thought as far ahead as finding food and shelter that would last him the next couple of days. "But..." She gestured at the pathetic room around them. "The shack's got a proper roof and a shower and real food—wouldn't that be better than this?"

Bill scoffed "Only humans care about roofs and showers, and the idea of 'real' food is a social construct I reject!"

He'd be miserable here. Mabel couldn't let Bill do this to himself. "Then don't you wanna be in the shack with your only friend on Earth?" She gave him a pleading look. "Would you really rather spend the rest of summer in some dumb old busted alien ship?"

There was a flash of light reflected in the dark as Bill's eyes turned away from Mabel.

"Bill?"

He didn't respond. He trudged past her, halfway up the walkway out of the ship, and stopped there, his back to Mabel, hands on his hips, staring out into the rain. He sighed. "Kid, you're trying to give me Stockholm syndrome."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means I'll think about it," Bill said, voice flat. "Go back to the shack."

Before Mabel could move, Bill said, "Hold on. Let me teach you that umbrella spell first." He turned and descended back into the ship. "And when's the last time you ate? Human bodies act pathetic if they don't get glucose every three hours. Get some lunch, it's a long bike back to the shack." He gestured at his meager food supplies.

She rummaged through the foil bags and colorful boxes and grabbed some Chipackers and sour gummy dolphins.

Bill sat near her, grabbed a bag of jerky for himself, and said, "And tell me about that concert you abandoned me to my doom for."

####

4:00 p.m.

Bill escorted Mabel down off the cliff—and, at her request, let her borrow the flashlight and wiggle the floating platform back and forth a little as they descended. He took back the flashlight when she nearly crashed the platform and killed them both.

"Where'd this come from?" Mabel asked, poking the stone. "Did the aliens make this, too?"

"Nope! This is good old local Earth magic. Ever hear of Caterpillar Man?"

"Is that some kind of superhero?"

"Afraid not. Well—ever hear of Grendel?"

"Uh-uh."

They were nearly at the ground now. "I think I'll tell you next time."

As the platform lifted him back up, Bill watched Mabel wheel her bike through the trees, slowly heading toward the main road back into town.

For a midsummer day, it was chilly in the rain.

####

Monday, 1:03 a.m.

And it was even chillier in the post-midnight dark when he knocked on the Mystery Shack's door.

####

(Eager to hear what y'all think now that you've seen the full story of how Bill survived—last week once Dipper and Mabel's roles were revealed, I think most folks thought that fully explained how Bill faked his death. ;) Next week is probably a double length chapter, because there's no graceful way to break it in half and also it'd be nice to get this plot arc wrapped up before The Book of Bill comes out lmao.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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ham-st4r · 2 years ago

Text

𝑹𝒐𝒂𝒅 𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒑 - 𝑳. 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈

✿Pairing: heeseung + female reader!

✿Warnings: smut, pure filth, car sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, cream pie, cum eating, breeding kink, daddy kink, male masturbation, cursing, implied round 2. (Since the daddy kink won on votes, I added it 🤭)

✿Genre: smut, 18+, read at your own discretion.

✿Summary: in which a road trip leads to you riding your friend in the back seat of a minivan, that’s literally it lol I didn’t add Niki for obvious reasons, and just to save any controversy, the last thing I need is drama in here.

✿Number of words: 3,184k

Pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

Find your way around!

You’re not sure whose idea it was to invite you and your best friend on the road trip or who thought it would be a great idea to travel in a minivan given the fact it only held seven people and there were eight people, including you and you’re also not sure why you agreed, but here you sat on one of your guy friends lap on a whole 4-hour road trip and halfway into the drive it was getting really uncomfortable more than uncomfortable.

Not only that but why the hell did you have to sit on heeseung’s lap? Couldn’t someone else sit there?

You didn’t even ask cause you knew they’d give you a bullshit excuse about you being smaller and weighing less.

You wouldn’t mind sitting on him in any other circumstance cause he was undoubtedly a hottie, but right now, your mind couldn’t even travel there as the pain in your body increased.

And on top of that, Jake and his girlfriend were practically sharing a seat, so why on earth were you crammed in the back with heeseung while Sunghoon told a series of terrible jokes?

You couldn’t believe how Jake and his girlfriend seemed to be having the time of their lives while in the seat in front of you in your same position, except your best friend was only halfway on jakes lap.

You wished you were having that much fun, but your back ached, and there was still a whole hour left. “Umm, can we stop? I have to use the bathroom,” heeseung spoke up. He had been quiet for most of the ride, only laughing awkwardly when you sat on his lap after muttering a small “hey,” which you returned just as awkwardly.

And little did you know heeseung was just as uncomfortable, if not more uncomfortable than you.

“Really, heeseung, can you just hold it? We’re almost there,” Jay piped up from the driver's seat.

No.

In fact, heeseung couldn’t hold it well. There was nothing to really hold other than the erection that was about to become very evident to you if he didn’t get a break real soon. “We’re not even almost there yet!” he shouted to the front seat, nearly blowing out your eardrum in the process.

“Be a man and use a bottle 'cause we’re not stopping,” Jay dismissed, and heeseung only groaned behind you.

Heeseung was doing alright for the next ten minutes, but once Jay ran over a bump and your ass brushed against his bulge, he couldn’t help but whimper. “Fuck” he whispered and clutched tightly onto the leather seats.

You were now fully aware of why heeseung wanted to stop and even more aware of what you were feeling under you, and you didn’t know if you should feel disgusted or flattered.

You supposed you were indifferent to the situation, and you tried shifting so you’d be sitting more on his thigh, but that seemed to make it worse as he squeezed your waist to hold you in place. “Please just stop moving,” he breathed out and rested his forehead on your back. “Shit, y/n, I’m sorry” He lowered his head in embarrassment. “Can we please take a break?” He spoke up, and Jay mumbled out a curse, finally pulling off at a gas station a few minutes out, although it was too late now that heeseung had already humiliated himself in front of you.

Heeseung practically threw you off his lap and hurried off to the restroom.

It was one outside the gas station around the back, and it was more than janky, but it’d have to do.

At first, he tried to make his erection go down by rinsing his face with cold water and taking deep breaths, even going as far to try and flex certain muscles in his body to make the blood go somewhere else, but no matter what, he could not stop imagining you sitting on top of him and it didn’t help that you had to wear shorts he knew it was like ninety degrees outside so he couldn’t blame you but still.

“Fuck” he moaned when he rubbed over the tent in his basketball shorts.

He quickly dropped them and his underwear on the ground fisting his cock at a fast pace. He had to hurry if he didn’t want anyone getting suspicious of him.

He bit his lip as he swirled his palm over his wet tip. “So fucking good, y/n” He closed his eyes, picturing you without those shorts on, wondering how good it’d feel for you to sit on his lap with nothing on. He’d love watching your perfect ass jiggle while you bounce on his big dick.

He had dreamed about it so many times he couldn’t even count. He knew it was wrong to like you cause you were only friends, but you made that extremely difficult for him, especially today.

He tugged at his balls, squeezing his sack softly while stroking his warm length. “Y/n, please don’t fucking stop” He was full-on fantasizing about you jerking his cock instead, wondering how you’d do it. Would you tease him? Would you do it nice and slow or rough and fast? Just the thought was getting him close. “Feels so good, baby,” he whispered.

Frankly, he wouldn’t care how you did it just as long as you were touching him.

“Hurry up, will you! I gotta go next,” he heard jakes voice outside the door and panicked.

“Shit” He knew if the guys knew what he was doing in here, they’d never let him live it down ever.

He quickly pulled up his shorts, tucking his erection in his waistband and hoping for the best.

“Sorry about that, it’s all yours” heeseung smiled awkwardly at Jake, hoping he wouldn’t notice anything, and to heeseung’s luck, he didn’t.

Now you, on the other hand, that’s a different story.

He avoided all eye contact with you and hopped in the back of the van while you left to buy something, he assumed, but just then, he got an idea. “Can I sit up front? I can give directions.”

“No!” They all said in unison, and he couldn’t help but wonder why all the guys were being such ass hats today. Just his luck.

But he did also get them lost when he was in control of the navigation on their road trip last year, so he supposed they had a right to respond that way.

Once you came out of the gas station, you made your way to the back, and heeseung peered out the window as if the scenery was just that beautiful, which it wasn’t. It was literally a dead-end gas station with flickering lights. You figured he must have just been embarrassed, but you understood it wasn’t intentional, and that just happens sometimes, and you didn’t judge him for it.

You sat on his lap once more, and Jay hit the road again. “Would you like some?” You offered him a drink of your ice-cold water, and if he’s being truthful, his body felt like it was on fire right now, partly cause you were sitting on his lap and the burning weather outside, so he accepted your offer.

“Thanks,” he whispers and drinks at least half the bottle in one go.

“I’m not disgusted by you or anything if that makes you feel any better,” you whisper to him, and you feel him tense up.

That definitely made him feel better, but it was still embarrassing for him.

You leaned back slightly, and you’re not sure if he had gotten hard again or he was still hard from earlier. You thought that’s why he went to the restroom to relieve himself. “Are you feeling any better?” you could only hope it didn’t make him more uncomfortable, but you just didn’t want him suffering for the next fifty minutes.

“Do you actually want to know the answer to that?” He whispers close to your ear so no one else would hear as his warm breath fans lightly across your face making you feel a shiver run up your spine.

“Yes,” you reply back in a whisper.

“No,” he replied honestly, and at this point, he’s been so hard for so long that it almost felt painful.

“I can help if you want?” You said boldly and pushed up against him a little, giving him a hint in case he didn’t know what you meant already.

You and heeseung were friends, yes, but that never once stopped you from thinking he was an attractive guy, and who cares? You were all on vacation to act crazy, party, and have fun, so why not start the fun right now?

Heeseung could have sworn he misheard, but he definitely saw the way you backed your ass up and pressed it on his aching length. “N-no, we’re almost there. I can take care of it later,” he politely declines.

You knew he was just being nice, but you really didn’t mind, and you can’t lie feeling his thick cock beneath your ass was turning you on, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t soaking wet right now. “Sure?” You gripped his knee and rotated your hips on his crotch teasingly, and he said fuck it and gave in.

He squeezed your hip with his right hand guiding you back and forth on his lap, groaning softly in your ear when your clothed ass brushed over his tip.

He grabbed your waist with his other hand pushing you down on his cock. You put your hands over his stopping his movement, and he was hesitant to do anything further in case he was making you uncomfortable. “Sorry, did I do something wrong?” You didn’t say anything. You lifted your hips and shimmied out of your shorts and underwear, and he gasped at the sight, watching a thick string of your arousal sticking to your thigh. though the sight was extremely hot to him, he didn’t want his friends to see you naked. “Are you crazy?” He whisper, yelled, and tried to cover your body with his hands. He looked around and thanked the stars that Sunghoon had fallen asleep beside him. Jake, his girlfriend, and Jungwon were too immersed in their game to care, and Jay was focused on driving while Sunoo was in the front seat giving directions which gave you and heeseung the green light.

“Relax,” you giggled and tugged at his shorts.

“Fuck okay,” he breathed out once he deemed it to be safe plus, nightfall had come already, so even if anyone did wake up, he could discreetly cover you and himself before anyone saw anything.

He pulled down his shorts, and you looked behind you while biting on your lip, looking at his huge dick resting on his abdomen.

You sat back down on his lap, dragging your pussy over his cock getting it nice and slippery so he could enter you with ease. “God baby, you’re so wet,” he mumbled in your ear groggily, already in a daze-like state from feeling your warm pussy gliding on his length. Evidently, he wasn’t the only one turned on.

He pushed his cock down at the base, sticking it between your legs, making it easier for you to grind on it. “So fucking big.”

“Yeah? You like that, huh?” He gripped your waist, now controlling the movement of your hips. “You gonna let me stick it in that pussy, baby? Wanna feel this big dick inside you? Hmm?” He kissed your neck sloppily while squeezing your hips.

“Yes, please,” you whined out, nearly moaning when you felt his tip poking at your quivering hole.

“Ooh, so polite” You could tell he was smirking by the tone of his voice. “You know just how to get what you want, huh, baby?” He nibbled your ear and bucked his hips up, pushing his cock past your tight entrance.

You had to cover your mouth to muffle your moan as you felt him stretching out your tight walls. You were thankful that he started out slow and let you adjust first cause he was huge. He slowly thrust in and out inch by inch until you could take all of it. He bit down on your shoulder softly and took a deep breath while he bottomed out. “You feel so good,” he moaned out after finally getting the relief he’s been needing for the past hour.

“You do, too” You swirled your hips while placing your hands on his knees to get a good angle to ride him. “Mmph,” you moaned.

“There you go,” he whispered, mesmerized by how you were swaying your hips in such a small space so effortlessly. “Just like that” He pulled his shirt up so he could watch his cock getting buried in your little cunt each time you moved back and forth on him.

He reached around you slipping his hands underneath your shirt to massage your tits, cupping them in his large warm hands and squeezing on them occasionally, not too rough but just right.

“Fuck heeseung,” he chuckled lowly in your ear.

“Like that? Having your tight little pussy filled with daddy’s dick?” Heeseung definitely made his dirty jokes here and there, but this was a whole new side of him you had never seen before. The filthy words coming from his mouth just made you wetter by the second.

“Mmh yes, Daddy,” he snuck a hand inside your bra, rolling your hard nipple between his fingers while he kissed on your neck.

“Shit, baby, you’re taking my dick so well” His comment made you clench down on his dick, squeezing your walls involuntarily. “Bounce on it,” he commands in a hushed voice, and you immediately obey, bouncing up and down on his cock just the way he ordered you to.

He breathily moaned in your ear, making you tighten your walls around him yet again. “S-so full” You could literally feel his dick everywhere inside you. The thickness brushing against your wet aching walls was absolute heaven.

“All for daddy’s girl” He dropped his right hand from your chest, cupping your mound with his palm before using his two fingers to massage your little swollen clit.

You threw your head back on his shoulder as he tugged at your sensitive nub.

“Gonna be good and let daddy breed his girl? Come on, baby, let Daddy fill you up. I know your little pussy wants it” He matched your pace when he felt your legs giving out, and he started bucking his hips into you, helping you ride him.

Luckily Jay had the radio on, and the quiet sounds of your guys' sweaty skin clapping against each other were drowned out.

“Yes, Daddy cum in me, please” You chewed on your lip, quieting your moans in the stifling van.

“Cum with Daddy, okay?” He said hurriedly, feeling high coming up on him.

“Hee- heeseung, I’m coming,” you breathed out.

“Oh god,” he grunted out. “Me too, y/n me t-too,” He spoke softly in your ear, and you felt his cock stiffen even more while he fucked into you and eventually spilled his seed inside you.

“Shit,” your squeak of a moan fell from your lips as he rubbed your clit in fast circles tipping you over the edge at the same time as him while his cock continued to ruin your spent pussy.

“Fuckkkkkkkk,” heeseung panted heavily in your ear as you felt his cock throbbing inside you and his warm ropes of cum staining your walls.

He didn’t think it was possible for an orgasm to feel so good, and to make it even better, your pussy just kept clenching on him nonstop, milking his dick for everything he had to give, which was a lot given the fact he hadn’t came in awhile.

“Fuck your cum into me, Daddy. Please, I’ve been a good girl for you,” you begged. Even though you were sensitive, you still needed to feel more of him.

“Fuck my girl is so dirty, such a naughty baby” He fulfilled your downright filthy wish, bucking his hip and fucking his cum back inside your used hole. He swiped his fingers over his length, collecting his release before holding it up to your mouth for you to suck on as he created a creamy mess between your sweaty bodies. “Does Daddy taste good?” You hummed around his fingers, and the lewd sticky sounds in the quietness of the van just made it ten times hotter you felt so dirty but so good at the same time.

Heeseung dared to look down and saw your pussy was nothing but a mess of his and your cum the creamy white ring around his base made him groan in pleasure as your pussy lips stretched around his length, taking everything he was giving to you.

After a few minutes, his cock had begun to soften, and he pulled out of you. You could feel his cum drip from your hole, and you put your hand under the small stream catching it in your palm once it leaked out of you.

You held your hand up to your mouth, licking it clean, refusing to let even a drop of him go to waste. “Such a good fucking girl for Daddy,” he breathed in your ear.

You looked back, smirking at him and showing him the creamy white on your tongue. “Let Daddy have a taste. Wanna have you on my tongue, baby” He gripped your jaw lightly, turning your face to the side so he could kiss you. You both kissed messily, playing with the liquid and passing it back and forth on each other’s tongues until it got lost in your guys' saliva and trickled down your throats. You both gulped each other's fluids down, humming in satisfaction before eventually pulling away.

You both pulled up your shorts and underwear once the post-orgasm clarity had kicked in, and the air was now quiet and peaceful heeseung’s hands fell on your waist. He then offered you some water, and you quietly accepted, swallowing the now room-temperature water.

He traced his hands over your belly, lifting up your crop top just a little to feel more of your skin on his fingertips as he kissed your neck occasionally.

You reached your hand back, tugging him forward by his neck, allowing him to press more wet kisses all over your exposed skin.

You’re not sure who rolled the windows down, but you were both so thankful when the cool breeze hit your warm skin. Both of you released a breath from the relaxing feeling of the chilly night air.

You cupped your other hand over his and ran your fingers through his dusty blonde hair. “We should do this again when we get to the hotel,” he hums against your neck. “Want to?”

“I’d love to,” you whisper, and you can feel him smiling on your skin.

So maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, after all, to accompany the boys on their road trip.

FIN.

Thank you for reading. Please reblog and leave feedback! - 🐹

#lee heeseung smut #heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen lee heeseung smut #heeseung scenarios #smut #heeseung #enhypen heeseung #enhypen #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #fanfic #heeseung enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen fluff

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scoobysnakz · 10 months ago

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ok but imagine loser!Miguel finding out that the reader has been seeing someone (casually, nothing physical… yet) and he has to try to put a stop to it while also having to listen to her swoon over said man RAAAAHHHH

AHHH OMG YESSS!!! LOVE THIS IDEA SMMM OMG

loser miguel who can’t help but get frustrated about the way you ramble on about him with that dopey smile on your face. normally, he’d be over the moon to see you so happy but the fact that it’s because of someone else…

it’s bad enough he can’t bend you over the break room table and pound your sweet cunt with his nose buried in your hair, now he has to contain his jealousy as well.

loser miguel who realises he can’t take this anymore and decides to end whatever silly ‘situationship’ you have going on.

loser miguel who starts pointing out all of the flaws he has, whether or not they’re real aren’t important.

“when was the last time he texted you?” he pipes in one day, forcing himself into the conversation, not that you care, you’re just happy good friend miguel is finally interested in your love life.

“i’m not sure.” you shrug, finger idly tapping the side of your mug half full with the coffee miguel made you. “sometime yesterday, i think.”

he just raises his brow with a sharp breath before walking off, praying that you start to overthink this minor flaw. but he knows you, and he knows you’ll get dragged down an endless rabbit hole of doubt.

loser miguel who inserts himself into your life, hoping that you’ll realize how much more useful he is than him. he starts making you coffee in the morning and bringing in croissants from the café over the road.

he loves the little thank you’s that you coo with a kiss to his cheek when he slides on your coat on your way out and the pretty smile that graces your face when he ‘coincidentally’ bumps into you by your house.

loser miguel who wants to know what’s going on when the two of you have to stay behind to work on something. he slides over to your side of your desk, his hand moving over the top of yours to stop your endless scribbling.

you look up at him through heavy eyes, the lack of sleep obviously getting to you. he can tell you haven’t had a good nights rest in a while and he’ll be damned if it’s not because your staying up all night texting your special someone.

“hmm?”

that soft, quiet hum resonates throughout miguel, travelling up his arms and legs and settling in the pit of his stomach. the feebleness of it makes him want to melt right then and there, pull you into a tight embrace until you fall asleep in his arms because the mere sight of you too tired to even ask a proper question is more than enough to make his heart ache.

“your eyes are all scrunched up, mami,” he sighs, a calloused hand coming up to push some of your hair out of your face. “when was the last time you got a good eight hours?”

you shrug, not even bothering to lie to him like the last few times he’s asked. “dunno.”

the next thing you know, miguel has his big strong arms wrapped you as you bawl your eyes out about how sucky this guy is. he’s not as understanding and kind and other guys you’ve been with, he doesn’t soften from your love and he doesn’t stare at you with those lovestruck eyes.

and while you feel so vain and self absorbed for expecting this from some random guy, miguel is practically dancing with glee. he knows why you expect all this, why you crave the gentleness and love of this man. he’s put these standards in your head, he’s the one who has been treating you this way because he’s who’s best for you.

you just need to realize it.

loser miguel who has to leave you alone to finish of the assignment for the evening, as much as he hates leaving you on your own, but the fear of you feeling his hardened cock digging into your thigh is much stronger.

he spends the rest of the evening relentlessly fucking his fist, imagining that it’s your tight pussy that squeezing his cock and not his thick fingers.

loser miguel who comes into work sorely disappointed to see you with eye bags big enough to hold two baby elephants and a makeup less face, not like he’s bothered but he knows how you like to doll yourself up for work.

he thought he told you to get a good nights rest !! why on earth are you so tired ??

“did you get any sleep at all?” he scolds, thick arms crossed his chest.

you look up at him, blinking slowly as you try and process his words. “‘course, migs,” you mumble while waving a dismissive hand at him.

“por dios,” he chides.

sliding an arm around your waist, miguel slots himself into the chair next to yours. you let yourself relax against him, your head nuzzling into the warmth of his chest and eyes flickering shut.

“couldn’t sleep.”

how badly he wants to pull you into his lap and let you curl up like a little kitten as you fall asleep clinging onto him like your life depends on it.

he lifts a large hand to smooth the crinkles in your shirt, smiling smugly as you let out a content sigh. “was thinking ‘bout what you’d been saying, how he isn’t good enough because he isn’t nice and stuff,” you admit scornfully, “and started thinking ‘bout things i shouldn’t.”

miguel nods, trying to pay attention to what you’re saying while also attempting to suppress his erection. “mami, you shouldn’t have been thinking about silly things so late, you need your sleep.”

loser miguel who loves the way you cling to him, sleepy mumbling an abundance of apologies as you nuzzle your head into his chest and stare up at him with those fatigued doe eyes.

he’s so grateful that it’s too early for anyone else to be in the lab otherwise he’s be too nervous to be holding you so close. he’s still trying to handle the glares he gets when he holds the door open for you.

loser miguel who whispers sweet words of reassurance as you start to bawl your eyes out all over again. you’re a blabbering mess with reddened eyes and puffy lips that he just can’t resist.

he leans down, face inches away from yours, and breathes in the comfortingly sweet scent of your perfume that he’s grown so accustomed to.

“why won’t he do all the things you say he should? how am i so clueless that i didn’t even realise he should?” you sob helplessly, “you’re always so sweet to me, why can’t he?”

“awww, poor chica,” he coos huskily. the warmth of his voice soothes you slightly, it’s like warm honey trickling past his perfect lips and dripping into your ears until all you can hear is the low rumble of his accent.

loser miguel whose heart nearly stops when you kiss him. never in a million years did he expect you to make the first move. every time he’s fantasised about it, he’d always been the one to pull you in, press you against the wall, whatever it is he’s the bold one.

but now your soft lips are pressed against his and all he can think about is how sickly sweet they taste.

his hand cups the back of your head, feeling the shape of your scalp and the softness of your hair. greedily, he deepens the kiss, cock straining against the seam of his pants. his tongue pushes itself into your mouth, hastily taking in the flavour of you as his desire for you deepens.

loser miguel who is panting and bewildered when you pull away, fingers curling up into the muscle of his chest.

“i was trying to kiss your cheek.”

loser miguel master list

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where-dreams-dwell · 10 months ago

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*spoilers for One Day*

For people saying ‘it’s tragic, Dex and Em only got 3 years together’ no. They got 15 years together.

Glossing over the span of their life together to sum it up as ‘only 3 years together’ misses all the love and time they had together that wasn’t solely romantic.

Why is their relationship only ‘important’ or ‘counts’ when it’s a romantic one? Maybe there was always romantic love buried in there or growing steadily but there was a whole lot of platonic love there too.

For 15 years they were the most important person in the world to one another, they described each other as their ‘best friend’ and the person they reached out to at every high and low moment. And for the last 3 of those years they were also a couple.

There are loads of examples of Dex reaching out to Em when he’s at his lowest: the last birthday with his mum, then he’s reeling from his divorce, when he’s scared people will hate him on TV. And you *could* read that as pathetic and Em being his emotional crutch, with Dex latching into her. But you could *also* see that as when you’re struggling and low, you just want your best friend. Because they *get* you. And part of being a best friend is being there in those low moments.

And Em has done the same with Dex, just in different ways. That first year out of uni Em had no idea what she was doing; in a job she couldn’t wait to leave, a relationship that didn’t make her happy, not sure where she was going in life or what she was doing. Em writes to Dex often, and doesn’t need him to reply to her, just to read her letters and be *her* emotional crutch and person to vent to.

Even at that breakup-dinner, Em has things she ‘needs to talk about’ and she’s reached out to Dex to do it. We don’t see her discussing it with Tilly, we see her trying to talk about it with Dex. She’s at arguably her lowest moment (hates her job, hates her partner, hates her home) and she wants her best friend to listen to her. Just like he did when she was 24 and thinking about giving up and leaving London, and Dex convinced her to stay and keep going.

So they are emotional crutches *to one another*. That’s also part of being someone’s best friend.

And for all the low moments Dex also wanted to share his best moments with her too: when he’s excited about the TV pilot he calls Em to say ‘the only person I want to share this with is you’, and begs Em to find a way to be there. Yes this is also him dismissing and ignoring her achievements, yes this is self absorbed and rude and at the height of his egomania, but in that moment of triumph he only wants his best friend there with him.

When they see one another again at Tilly’s wedding Em is brave and self assured when she reveals she’s ‘thought of you every day, missed you every day’, and that even though they are friends again now the fact that Dex will have a wife and child ‘feels a bit like loosing you all over again. Because people with families have different priorities…’ That’s how close they were before.

The sentiment that ‘we grew up together’ is really true, for the both of them. They were very different people throughout their lives, and if they had tried to be a romantic couple earlier there is no guarantee that version of them would have lasted the course.

Would Emma have stayed with a peak-of-his-tv-fame Dex, partying and living life ‘to the full’? Or would they have explosively ended and decided they were too different for one another for it to ever work?

Would Dex have even tried for a career in TV or a full year of travelling if he’d become a couple with Emma after Uni? Or would he have done something else but grown resentful of what-could-have-been?

If they had sorted out their issues and apologised after their fight and Em had left Ian, would Em have found the strength to turn rock bottom into a spring board and finally write her book? Would she have even hit that bottom at all? Or would the hook have remained a pipe dream while she continued as a teacher, happy with Dex but professionally unfulfilled?

We will never know what could have been, and that doesn’t necessarily make those alternatives the ‘better’ option that they ‘missed out on’.

Maybe they would only ever have had 3 years together as a couple and getting it in their mid 30’s the way they did was their most mature and peaceful version.

So yes at times their relationship feels like it’s moving toward the inevitable conclusion of a romantic partnership. But the time before they get there wasn’t wasted or unimportant or unnecessary. And they were always together.

#one day netflix #one day #emma morley #dexter mayhew #friendship #platonic love #romantic love #star crossed lovers #I just get frustrated when people boil ‘they always loved one another’ down to ‘oh so it was romantic from the start and never changed’#like bitch the power of friendship??#the bonds of brother/sisterhood and all that jazz #to say nothing of platonic soulmates #or love that changes and grows #spoilers

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mellowsadistic · 1 month ago

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Costume Changes - Part 1

Three college girls perform a childish prank on a woman’s house on Halloween, not realising the occupant is an actual witch. The girls are helpless to resist when she instructs them to come inside, and to their horror they find themselves being permanently altered by her magic.

***

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” said Amber, glancing nervously at the front door of the house.

“Oh lighten up,” said Lucy, handing her a roll of toilet paper. “it’s just a bit of fun.”

“Yeah, don’t be such a downer,” said Candace, pausing her examination of her nails to accept a roll of toilet paper from Lucy herself. “TP’ing someone’s house is a Halloween staple.”

“But what if that woman comes out and catches us?” Amer asked anxiously, adjusting her glasses and glancing again at the front porch of the house. Fake cobwebs stretched between the wooden pillars, plastic bats hung down on strings, and numerous pumpkins were sat around on the ground, leering at them.

“We’ll be long gone before she realises what’s happened,” said Lucy, rolling her eyes impatiently. “Besides, what’s she gonna do? Chase after us? It’s her own fault for not giving us any candy. We did things properly, didn’t we? We said trick or treat, and if she won’t give us a treat, she gets a trick. That’s how it works.”

“Aren’t you three a little old for trick or treating?” Candace mocked, echoing what the woman in the witch’s outfit had told them when they’d knocked on her door. “I’d rather save these sweets for the kiddies. What a bitch!”

Lucy put her hands on her hips. She wore a devil costume with a red vinyl bodysuit, matching boots, and a horned hairband. “And now it’s time for a little Halloween justice,” she said, tossing back her sleek brown hair and smirking.

Amber fussed with the sensible cardigan and knee-length skirt of her librarian costume. “Alright,” she conceded. “I’m in.”

“Well now that Amber’s given us permission,” Candace said scornfully, “I guess we can start.” She was dressed in a flowing blue gown with a loose, revealing bodice. A very realistic crown sat in her golden hair.

“I was just saying-”

“Ugh, stop bickering!” Lucy snapped. “Let’s get on with this! When we’re done, we’ll head to the bar, okay? I could do with a drink, and warming up a little.” She shivered in the cool Autumn air. Her costume left her shoulders, arms, and most of her legs bare.

Lucy threw the first roll of toilet paper, looping it high over the squat tree in the woman’s front garden. Amber and Candace followed suit, covering the hedges and flowerbeds with toilet paper, some of which began to melt immediately on the damp leaves. They moved on to the house itself next, arming themselves from the plastic bag of toilet rolls they’d brought with them, and tossing them over the porch and up onto the tiled roof, leaving trails of increasingly soggy paper everywhere. Soon the three college students were giggling like schoolgirls. At least until the front door opened and light spilled out onto the lawn.

“Well, well, well, looks like I was wrong,” said the woman in the witch costume. “Maybe the three of you are just kiddies after all.”

“Run!” Lucy gasped. She could feel a giddy excitement bubbling up within her, and she let out a laugh. But it died in her throat almost instantly. Something was wrong. She’d tried to sprint away towards the street, but it was as if her legs were frozen in place. She couldn’t move! She looked around wildly and saw Amber and Candace in the same situation, both gawking at their feet in confusion.

“I don’t think so,” said the witch woman lightly. She let out a sweet, tinkling laugh that sent a shiver down Lucy’s spine. “My, my, look what a mess you’ve made!” Her eyes travelled over the garden, coming to rest on the place where Candace had stuffed a roll of toilet paper into a drain pipe. “What silly, messy girls you are!”

“What have you done to us?!” Lucy demanded. She tried her best to sound confident and calm, and not scared out of her wits, but her voice shook nonetheless. There was something freaky going on here. “Why can’t we move?!”

“Just a little freezing spell,” said the woman, gently. “I can’t have you running off, can I? Now let’s see, what do we have here…” She walked up to Lucy, whose heart was thumping rapidly in her chest. “A naughty little devil!” She examined the other girls. “A snobbish queen too. And a fussy librarian!” She laughed again, shaking her head. “No, no, no, I don’t think that’s right at all! Come inside, little ones. I have some costumes that will suit you much better.”

The witch woman turned around and walked back inside the house, and to her horror, Lucy found herself following after her. It was as though her body was on auto-pilot, acting totally without her permission. Amber and Candace followed too, and Lucy could see the expression of fear on Candace’s face, and the look of shock and disbelief on Amber’s.

“This isn’t possible,” Amber was whispering to herself. “This can’t be happening. She can’t be an actual witch…”

They crossed the threshold into the house, and the woman closed the door behind them. “Follow me, girls,” said happily, leading them on into the living room. Even on the inside, the house was covered in Halloween decorations, but otherwise it looked normal. Regular chairs and regular tables and regular wallpaper. No giant cauldrons or bloodstained pentagrams, no place they might be sacrificed or eaten alive. Still, just being out of control of her body was enough to frighten Lucy to her core.

“Halloween is my favourite night of the year,” said the witch, walking over to a large wooden chest that sat against the wall and kneeling down in front of it. She lifted the top, and a gold light emanated from within. Lucy, Amber, and Candace stood in a row watching her, glued to the spot. “It’s always fun seeing what people choose to dress as. I think it reflects something about our inner selves.” The girls exchanged frightened glances as the woman rooted around inside the chest. “But some people need a little help understanding who they really are.” The witch stood up and turned around, holding a bundle of clothes. “And that’s certainly true of you three.” She handed a sparkly pink mass to Candace. “That’s for you, sweetie. You’re not a queen, I’m afraid. Just an overgrown little princess.” She moved on to Amber, pushing something white and tartan into her arms. “And you might think you’re a big, smart librarian, young lady, but I know better. You might be in your twenties, but you’re not ready to be out of school just yet.” Then she reached Lucy, and she handed over something soft and silky and pure white. Lucy’s hands reached out to take it without her say-so. “A devil is completely the wrong costume for you, little one,” the witch said sweetly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think you’re just an innocent little angel, aren’t you?”

Lucy looked down at the bundle she was holding. It was a wispy white dress, a pair of strap-on angel wings, and a fluffy halo attached to a hairband by a piece of wire. There was something else sitting on top, but for a moment she couldn’t comprehend what it was. Then the realisation came to her, and she felt her heart drop down into her stomach. Pull-ups. Soft and crinkly, with little flower designs for wetness indicators. A pair of Huggies pull-ups, just her size.

“For just-in-case,” said the witch, winking at her.

Lucy felt sick.

“But there’s nothing just-in-case about yours, is there, sweetie?” the witch cooed, looking over at Candace. Lucy followed the woman’s gaze and saw Candace looking stricken as she extracted something from the mass of pink frills she was holding. She unfurled it slowly and stared at it, horror-struck. “It’s only fitting for someone who clearly doesn’t know what toilet paper is for, don’t you think?” said the witch. “That will handle all your wees and poos.”

Candace blanched. She seemed unable to tear her eyes away from the enormous disposable diaper in her hands.

Lucy glanced at what Amber was holding. Resting on top of the tartan whatever-it-was was a pair of white panties with a My Little Pony design on the front. Amber was staring down at them intensely.

“Well come on, girls!” said the witch brightly, clapping her hands together twice. “Chop, chop! It’s time to change into your new outfits! Then we’ll see about some trick or treat candy!”

#mellowsadistic

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feralrabidcrow · 2 months ago

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I remade the silly TF2 base that lives inside my head in The Sims 4 for the 3rd time

And this time I'm actually happy with it!

Behold, the base that I use for a reference for when I write fanfiction! Photo spam incoming under the cut as well as me yapping.......

Some basic exterior shots, in short this is the main home base that the mercenaries all live in when they aren't currently deployed at a battlefield, ex. 2Fort or Badwater. Those battlefields all have much smaller bases attached or nearby for the mercenaries to temporarily reside in while they're in between trying to kill BLU.

This is the floorplan of the basement, with its primary features being the medbay, the workshop, the laundry room, and two sleeping quarters, which belong to Medic and Heavy.

The hallway outside of the medbay has a waiting area set up. There is an elevator that travels between the medbay and the garage for convenience.

It's worth noting that I am working here within the confines of The Sims 4, and can only do so much to achieve my actual visions of this base. Where the skeleton is, would be a scale of the type you would usually see in a doctor's office (Medic prefers to keep his skeletons in the closet, you see.) And the weird set-up of counters in the middle of the room would be a proper operating table, with his Medigun attached to the ceiling above it, among other strange contraptions.

The medbay has this little side room, that Medic mainly uses for storage. Though it works well as a quarantine room, if the need arises.

Closet Skeleton™!!!

Here we have Engie's workshop, which looks as you would probably expect.

Here we have some utility areas in the basement, consisting of the laundry room, a basement-y maintenance furnace type room, and a washroom.

I would rather keep all the mercenaries' bedrooms together, so I'm gonna skip Heavy and Medic's sleeping quarters for now and head up to the next floor!

This is the main floor of the base, where most of the action happens. It features the garage, meeting room, training gym, showers, a large washroom with multiple toilet stalls, a kitchen and dining area, a small living room, and four sleeping quarters, belonging to Demoman, Soldier, Engineer, and Pyro.

The garage is a bit of a mess, and its most noteworthy feature is the armory, where the mercenaries keep most of their gear during time off. Though clearly not all of them care about the danger of tripping hazards.

There's not much to say about the gym and meeting room, at least in this physical version. Once again, I am held back by the game I built this in. In reality, the meeting room would have a large round table, more centered in the room, and the gym would just generally have more going on for it, but I tried my best to capture what purpose they served.

You'll really have to use your imagination on this one and believe those weird pipes are showers, because I don't own any packs with standalone showers. Anyways, these are the communal showers, where you get to experience the joy of pretending you're in prison and staring at your coworker's butts!

I have a feeling Tumblr won't let me share all the bedrooms in this already ridiculously long post, so I'll probably have to attach them in a reblog. If Tumblr doesn't let me do even that, I guess I'll die? I sure hope it does! I do not know how Tumblr works.

But here's a little peek at some of the sleeping quarters......as well as the floorplan for the top floor even though it's basically all personal quarters. Sniper's, Spy's, and Scout's, to be exact.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #team fortress #tf2 fanart #tf2 fanfiction #scout tf2 #soldier tf2 #pyro tf2 #demoman tf2 #heavy tf2 #engineer tf2 #medic tf2 #sniper tf2 #spy tf2 #referenceforcrow

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shares-a-vest · 4 months ago

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Prompt: Only One Bed (Discord Drabble)

"This cannot be right."

"Yeah, uh... I think it is."

Eddie looks down at the motel room key, its puke-green keychain shimmering as the fluorescent lighting above bounces off it.

Steve bristles beside him and Vickie paces about, looking like a lost little sheepie as she examines the room for any other possible sleeping quarters that might be hidden around the place.

"Go back to the front desk," Steve commands, folding his arms now.

"What's the point?" Robin pipes up. She gestures to the cramped room with enough force that she bounces on the double bed. A small double bed. The only bed. "The place is booked out because of this stupid concert."

"Hey!" Eddie and Vickie defend in unison.

Robin jumps up and snatches away the motel key.

"Remind me to never leave you with the travel itinerary again."

Eddie bites his bottom lip as he readies himself for either a quip about his new (well, 'new' to him) van or his driving skills. But Steve steps forward and places his hands on his hips, assessing the bedding.

"Okay, how about me and Rob in the middle? Eddie on my other side, Vickie on Robin's?"

3am.

"Eddie! Will you stop squirming!"

"Robin, be quiet."

"I will when Munson stops jostling the entire bed like he's some possessed child."

"Robin, I'm cold!" Eddie whines, "You're wrapped around Steve like an octopus. He's my boyfriend y'know!"

Vickie pops up from behind Robin.

"I'm cold too," her wide eyes glisten in the darkness as she steadies herself, clearly teetering on the edge of the bed.

"Y'know we wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't –"

"Everyone, shut up," Steve grumbles, snuggling in closer to his best friend.

He burrows his way under the stiff pillows that Robin had somehow managed to commandeer for herself in the night.

"Steve!" Eddie grits his teeth, "Hold me!"

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #rockie #robin buckley #vickie stranger things #rockie 🎺#lilys drabbles

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romanoffsbish · 1 year ago

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Stripped Bare

Actress!Natasha Romanoff x Stripper!F!R

Warnings: Faulty Contraceptive, Unplanned Pregnancy, Abandonment, Sex Work, Troubled Birth/C-Section, Insecure R, Slightly Toxic Nat (Redeemable 🥵)

18+ | Minors DNI

"There you go pretty girl." Natasha's voice was as smooth as velvet as she egged you on, her fingers trailed up your spine, trying to distract you from the burn as you sunk onto her cock.

You mewled at the feeling of her bareness against your walls for the first time, and felt as she twitched uncontrollably at the sound. Her face burrowed into your neck momentarily as she too got used to the feeling of your molten heat wrapping around her in a delectable way.

It was as if you were perfectly made for her.

——

"You always take daddy's cock so well," she hummed her lewd words against your throat, her teeth grazed over your skin, leaving behind marks she was never meant to. Being that you were contractually obligated not to let the customers touch, marks were a hard fast no, but she was always an exception to the rule.

A well known actress, philanthropist, and even a business owner, well on her way to becoming a billionaire within another decade's times; Natasha rarely heard the word no anymore.

Your boss never much minded your sessions running over, or your disheveled state once she had a wad of 100's in her hand to compensate.

You were her best dancer, and therefore you were the only one Natasha ever accepted.

She refused to admit it went deeper than your talent status at first, it was only carnal even if she was drawn to you from the minute she stepped into the club. It was purely physical.

Until one day it wasn't.

What used to be quick fucks turned into full blown nights of passion that ended with soft moments of aftercare. Her touches said she loved you, even if her pragmatic words didn't.

It was after her last visit that she realized she'd fallen for you, or moreover when she finally admitted it, but frustratingly she had too much going on personally to say that to you just yet.

So instead of being upfront, she just bought out every slot you had this week, and filled you to the brim every night with her cock. This night not an exception, but more so an overzealous attempt to fuck you into being hers fully.

Had she just spoken to you she would've known you already were. No one else even interested you anymore after you two had started fooling around nearly two years ago.

Natasha felt the same, she'd usually have a new girl every week as she traveled the world, but now she hadn't gone more than a month without seeing you since. Tonight though, she had to tell you that changed. She pushed off the films she'd already signed on for long enough.

"Oh detka," she moaned as you picked up a steady rhythm riding her, you looked so pretty with your head thrown back like this, and with every intentional clench of your walls she was losing control, her hips jerked and she began to pound upwards which derailed your bouncing.

"I'm going to cum," Natasha shrieked, your eyes flew open, but your stammering was quickly disregarded by the lust drunk woman. “Don't worry detka, I'll buy you a plan B."

You nearly laughed in her face, of course the woman knows about plan B. Plan A should simply be her not saying she'd pull out then unilaterally deciding against it in the heat of the moment. Birth control be damned, she was just too cocky with her decision making for your liking, as if she owned you or something.

You wish she did honestly, but that's a pipe dream. This was always something you wanted, you craved it honestly, usually you'd beg her to breed you, but that came with the knowledge that she never would. She had a not so private career, and she was at her peak so she'd told you once in an exhaustion led conversation that settling down wasn't an option at the time.

Then she continued to show up and fuck you senseless, she'd behave like a jealous lover when you held a session with her after another, but she never verbalized it. She simply let her resentment show through her harsh thrusts, and you reminded her with your screams of praise that only she got to have you like this.

"Gonna fill you up detka, you want that?" You nodded, far too gone in the pleasure to speak, and the woman found herself delighted by her ability to fuck you so dumb. "Oh you're going to look so pretty carrying my baby one day."

Her load shot out of her along with a groan. Her fingers dug into your hips, teeth scraping over your pulse point harshly, you shuddered.

Natasha's orgasm directly caused yours, your head flew back, back arching your chest into hers, and the redhead quickly tightened her arms around your waist to keep you upright.

"Fuck," she panted hoarsely, "You're milking me for all I'm worth, gonna be full of my seed."

"Wanna have your baby so bad Natty," you admitted your far off fantasy, causing her to groan, her cock twitching against your walls, releasing even more of her cum inside of you.

"You'd be so pretty," Natasha whispered, her lips moving up the side of your neck as she continued to thrust shallowly. "A total vision."

She pulled back, leaning into her chair so she could admire your blissed out face. Trying to commit your features to her memory since it would be a long while before she saw you. The more she thought it over, it honestly pained her that you didn't have any photos together.

"Detka," she whispered softly, your glossy eyes fluttered open and she melted at the sight. "Can I take a photo, please?" You were really supposed to say no, to deny her the privilege as was a rule of the Red Room, but you didn't.

Natasha smirked as you nodded. She reached for her phone in a frenzy, picking you up and dropping you back down on her cock to truly get you picture ready. You instantly screamed out in pleasure, your mind far too hazy to hear the consecutive click of the actresses camera.

She never spoke in plurality, but her gallery was filling fast. She just couldn't stop herself as you made so many different expressions, all of them hot as hell as she filled you to the brim.

Natasha sloppily linked her lips with yours, you heard the click this time and smiled goofily. The redheads heart swelled, hope filling her as you wore a genuine expression. She was gutted seconds later as her phone alarm went off. Her Hollywood soft hands stilled your continuous bouncing, because if she didn't stop you now she'd miss her three am flight to London.

It was already passed midnight, her bags were packed and in her trunk. All there was left to do was break the news to you, and hope you accepted her proposal. She's sure you will.

"I have to go," she whispered, her tone somber.

You frowned, looking at your watch to see it was only 12:15. Fear flooded your heart at the idea that maybe she was growing tired of you, she never leaves before the club closes. You realized that maybe this was it, she was done.

Natasha felt the way you tensed, her hands moved to cup your cheeks, bringing your avoidant gaze back down to meet hers.

"Hey," she coo'd, "I have a flight to catch is all."

You nodded, trying to reel your emotions back in. You felt so pathetic, this was only business after all. She's not responsible for your feelings.

With a rushed response you clambered off her, holding back a whimper as you hollowed. The sensation a perfect mirroring of your heart.

Natasha hated how you looked to be in pain. All because she's behaving like a coward. It's not like she couldn't just be with you, it would have to be long distance, but it could work.

But she wants this to start when she's free, and able to devote all of her attention to you. So for now this will have to be enough for you both.

"I need you to do me a big favor," she finally cut through the tense silence, as both of you stood fully redressed. Her body molded against yours naturally, pushing you against the wall.

"What is it Nat?"

"Stop dancing," she commanded breathlessly, "I have to go, and it will be a year until I can return to you." You could almost hear a subtle nervousness that she'd never exuded before.

You wanted to give in to her right away, but you couldn't, it wasn't fair of her to ask this.

"Nat, I need this income for my bills, and I don't even understand why I would stop. You're only one of my many clients."

The one you'd fallen in love with... But she didn't need to know that, it was embarrassing.

"Because this pussy is mine Y/N," she growled. "I will properly compensate you—say yes."

Natasha didn't mean to be so gruff with you, but hearing you speak of this as if it was only ever a business arrangement pissed her off.

You guys spent many nights wrapped up in each other. She knew your hopes and dreams. You knew hers. This wasn't just sex anymore.

"I'm serious detka," Natasha's tone was free of lust now, it was authoritative, but soft and that only served to give you a false sense of hope.

You went to rebut her request, painfully so, but she simply shook her head, effectively shushing you. "You'll be okay, no need to worry about anything but your studies now moya lyubov'"

Natasha never told you what her words meant, you'd always just assumed them to be baseless words of endearment, but in this one moment you allowed yourself to believe it was more.

Natasha wished you knew it was, it would be so much easier if you only knew she loved you.

You nodded, heart skipping as her expression blossomed into something truly comforting.

Then your phone dinged, Natasha slipped it into your hands and watched with a smug grin as you gasped. Immediately you shook your head, half a million dollars being deposited into your account giving you a rush of panic.

"Natasha, i-it's too much." The redhead simply shook her head, negating your weak protests. "It's enough to get you by and then some until I'm back from my year away. You deserve it."

"I can't accept this Nat," you tried to deny her, but you both knew you could, and with the stern look she gave you knew you would.

"You can," she bluntly replied, her attempt of leaving no room for argument, but then she softened, kissing your lips as she mumbled, "and you should, take the break moya lyubov'."

You sighed against her lips, your subtle way of conceding to her request. Natasha deepened the kiss then, your arms lazily wrapped around her neck, and she happily made out with you. Then the redheads phone went off, she groaned but looked down to see her driver was calling her, again, so she pulled away with a sad smile.

"Take care of yourself Y/N/N," she pecked your lips again, then her warmth left yours. Both of you had tears brimming in your eyes as she walked away, neither of you would let them fall though until you were safely concealed away from prying eyes. And away from one another.

"Have fun Natty, don't forget about me." Her hand hesitated on the knob now because you sounded serious. As if you believed she could.

Natasha could never forget you; her angel.

You'd never known it, but you saved her soul.

With that precious heart, and gorgeous smile.

Those eyes of yours that said you cared.

Natasha knew she was doomed to fall for you on that first night, it's why she kept returning.

Natasha cleared her throat, doing her best to remain chill. She soon turned to you with a wry smile. "I just had my fun detka," she winked "and I never would dream of forgetting you.

——~~~~~——~~~~~~~~——~~~~~——

A year flew by in no time, and now here you stood. With a baby on your hip, and a mind lost in a fantasy. You wished life wasn't so cruel.

The sound of the kettle whistling brought you out of your steamy daydream of a night past.

That was the last time you saw the woman, besides for on your TV. She'd unfairly asked you to wait for her to return, but never once did she give you a concrete reason to believe this was anything more than just business.

The PR surrounding her and her female costar didn't help to quell your fears of inadequacy.

They only made you realize this was a fantasy.

Natasha actually loving you was a sweet delusion you let yourself cling to for too long, now you had to move on for your sons sake.

Natasha's son... He looks so much like her. You sometimes wonder if things would be different if she knew. Would she actually step up?

You're not sure if you'll ever know. Your loyalty to her comes to an end tonight, you're certain she won't take that well, but that's tough shit.

The bucket loads of money she gave you ran out just last month, and so you hadn't much of a choice anymore. You had to return to work if you were going to support your family unit. She didn't own you, and so she would have to face the consequences of her every previous action.

She knocked you up, then skipped town by the next day without even leaving you her number. She couldn't exactly hold this against you.

After delivering the mug of tea to your ailing mother you passed your son to your brother, leaving a kiss on his chubby cheek before looking to your sibling with a stern glare.

"He's safe," he grumbled, "Now go be a hoe."

You rolled your eyes, flipping your brother off as you slipped out of the door with your bag.

A tear slid down your cheek, but you moved passed the anxiety, and drove off to the club.

—

News travels fast, you were always the clubs best girl so they announced your return days in advance, and of course as Nat landed back in LA she saw the news in an email from the club.

Her phone screen audibly cracked as she slammed it into the counter, and after a hot shower the redhead was on her private jet en route to New York, where you currently were in the back of the club trying on your best set.

You frowned when the lacy one piece struggled to get over your newly protruding hips. Every day you are reminded of your new body, and the miracle it pulled off creating your son, but it feels more burdensome in times like this.

Then you look down at the time, see your son's perfect face, and remember that though your circumstances aren't ideal, you wouldn't trade him for the world. So, with a brave face, and makeup over your newfound beauty marks you anxiously made your way out to the floor.

As soon as you stepped out the spotlight fell to you and the crowd roared with excitement. You were beyond overwhelmed as your eyes trailed over the crowd, many of your regulars from the years past were here to welcome you back. It was nice, but when you didn't find the pair of green you were hoping to your mood dropped.

The show must go on though, and when your boss called for you to greet Mrs. Lawrence, you waltzed right on over with a bright smile.

"Y/N, dear, it's been too long," the much older woman lifted your hand to her lips for a kiss that made you internally cringe. Another one of your rule breakers, with loads of her husbands money to cover up her perceived deviancies.

Her lips were dry, cracked with lines that held stories you didn't ever intend to learn. The only lines that mattered to you, that were engrained in the deepest crevices of your soul, were the ones that belonged to Natasha Romanoff.

A thin layer of wetness coated your lower lashes at the thought, but you held back the tears, and even more so on the need to retch.

You had bills to pay.

"Mrs. Lawrence," you greeted in a sultry tone, eyes batting up at her as she towered over you. "It's been quite some time since we've last been acquainted. Please tell me you rented a room."

You felt sick to your stomach...

"Oh, why of course I did sweetie..."

Natasha entered the club, determined in her stride as she let the anger in her soul win out. Her eyes only took seconds to zero in on you, and once they saw the elder woman escorting you to a room they narrowed in raw anger.

Fortunately your boss caught wind of the redheads arrival, she interrupted your current rendezvous and promised Mrs. Lawrence that she'd have her chance with you. Before you could ask your boss why you had your answer.

A strong hand wrapped around your bicep, dragging you down the dark hallways to the back of the line of rooms, and tossed you beyond the door, your body hitting the floor.

"I-um, shit, are you okay?" Natasha scrambled forward and pulled you up, her fast hands assessing you for injury. She didn't mean for you to get hurt, the angry adrenaline had just taken over. You nodded, "I'm okay Natty..."

She scoffed, how could you use such a sweet name when you clearly didn't love her the way that she loved you. God, did she love you.

"What part of stop dancing didn't you get?"

"Nat," your lip trembled as you stared back at her scared. She was furious, and that upset you terribly. "I'm broke... I had no other choice."

"I paid you more than enough, stop lying."

"I-I had to spend the bulk of the money Nat."

"I gave you half a million dollars Y/N!" She exasperated, "Fuck, you're such a whore!"

"My mom's sick!" You spat back now, "Her medical bills alone took a fourth of it," you reluctantly admitted, "Then another chunk went to paying off my schooling and for basic necessities. Not to mention I had to get us a house to stay in, one with a comfortable space for my mom, and with enough rooms for all of us," you continued, but Natasha just couldn't move passed the way you said all of us...

Did you have a partner she wasn't aware of?

Was she really that fucking clueless, and you that much of a conniving, filthy whore?

"Who the hell is 'us'?" She suddenly shouts, causing you to flinch fearfully and step even further away from her. "Y/N, I'm not going to ask again," she growls, then if things weren't bad enough your phone began to ring, and before you could send your mom to voicemail Natasha snatched the phone from your hands, and you tried to stop her but it was too late.

The natural redhead turned away to see the culprit, but she nearly dropped the phone when the call ended and she saw your lock screen.

There before her very eyes was a sweet little baby boy, he couldn't have been more than a month old in the photo. He'd been yawning, but one of his eyes was still slightly open and the murky shade of green was unmistakable.

"I wanted to tell you, but you never left me with any way to contact you, and it would've been too risky for you if I tried to find you. Plus, you didn't even want him, the pill that failed told me that much," you spoke up from behind her, the subtle disdain was clear in your tone, but Natasha couldn't be bothered to care about it.

She'd come back here tonight to remind you that you were hers, to put an end to the unspoken of tension, and give you the label you'd both been painstakingly yearning for.

But now, she's leaving this nightclub a mother.

That was never on the agenda, but the longer she stares at the photo of your baby, the more her heart seems to settle into the role, her mind runs wild with all the possibilities of a life she'd always wanted but never slowed down to have.

"Get dressed," she instructs with a level tone, smirking teasingly when you scoff. "Natasha, I have a job to do, and your tips are unwanted!"

Natasha frowns as you continue. "They come with unfair requirements, and I can no longer live on your timeline, I have four mouths to feed, and a mountain of medical bills stacking up." Her heart cracks as your pained words fly at her, but she's quick to straighten herself out.

"Y/N, you have to know that I am not going anywhere, right?" It was your turn to frown now as you took in the nervous way her hands fidgeted. "It hurts to see you think so little of me, but I guess that's really my own fault."

"Natasha, I." Before you could piggyback to make her feel better she shushed you, her hand waving in the air. "You don't need to do that. I'm here to fix this baby, I am here to stay, it's the whole reason why I came here tonight."

Natasha sat down in the chair she's been in many times before, but tonight was different from the rest, it came with soft confessions, "Come, sit on my lap darling, let me explain."

You cautiously took her extended hand to allow her to pull you into her lap, and you bit your lip instinctually upon feeling her large bulge.

"I flew in this morning, after all my many projects were finally completed, and before I could seek you out I was notified of your reappearing debut at the club tonight," she tiredly explains, "I was furious—as you could see, but that's all because of," she pauses, her heart stuttering in her chest, and beating so loud she could hear it, only you had this affect on her, it was like you were a drug cruising through her veins and lighting her nerves.

"I—Fuck, this is harder than I expected it to be," she chuckled humorlessly, you felt the way her body tensed up, so you took a bit of a risk; you intertwined your hand with hers, and used your other to cup her cheek with a tenderness.

It seemed to be a good call since Natasha's body immediately melted into the chair at the sign of affection, while her lips softly pressed to your palm, "I'm in love with you Y/N." You gasped softly, never expecting to hear those words from her, but they were the ones that had always lived in your dreams. "It wasn't my intention to fall, but after our first encounter I knew I was stepping off the ledge if I returned."

The woman could see the gears turning in your mind, it was clear you were trying to get how she could have been so pragmatic at the end of each session, but had also been falling in love.

"Which is why I kept coming back, and booking your slots full when I couldn't be here. It was a tactic to keep you untouched by others; you're mine. It was also to take care of you as best I could," she took your smirk as a good sign, and so she went on, shooting her shot in totality.

"That's all I want to do Y/N, to take care of you, I'm here to offer me completely, my heart is irrevocably yours, as is my body and soul."

You pouted inquisitively, the distrust obvious, and that spurred her on to fight harder for you.

"Please, let me love you like I always should've, to make up for the time lost, and to make this unexpected, but wanted family whole," the words left her with such conviction you weren't able to perceive them as anything less than true, so you answered her with a needy kiss.

Then you cupped her bulge through her pants, the woman groaned hotly against your lips, it took everything in her not to take you then.

"Detka, we don't have to." Natasha gripped your shoulders, using what little restraint she had she pushed you back. Worry ebbed its way into her heart, she feared you thought she expected sex from you in the moment, and as much as she wanted it, she didn't want to rush.

"I know," you whispered, "I want you, please."

"You have me detka. Daddy's got you."

Natasha stood up, your legs wrapped around her waist instantaneously, and she continued to kiss you rather sloppily while her free hand meticulously removed her belt causing her slacks to hit the floor. Her cock sprung free from its confines, slapping into your wet slit, and effectively pulling a soft moan from you.

"You always make such pretty noises," she purred against the skin of your neck as she teasingly rubbed her shaft against you, intent as an abundance of your slick transferred and eventually it trickled down both of your thighs.

Clearly foreplay was unnecessary, but that didn't matter to her. Natasha swiftly set you down, removing your lingerie in a flash. Her hands groped you over the cups on your breasts before she expertly removed them. Her hands continued to knead the sore flesh before you could warn her, though it didn't matter much because you breathily moaned in relief and she salivated at the white pebbling.

Natasha was desperate, "I need to taste you!" Her plump lips brushed over your collarbones, she stuck her tongue out, licking the salty skin as she inched closer to where you needed relief. She was panting just the same as you, this need to taste your breastmilk something new to her.

Her body was warmed by the palpable desire.

You whimpered embarrassingly as her tongue swirled around your nipple before settling beneath as her lips enclosed around the bud. Pre-cum spurted from the tip of Natasha's cock at your noises, and the overwhelming sweet taste that flooded her mouth after a soft suck.

"Fuck," she groaned against your sensitive areola, precious drops of white dripped from her lips and she cursed herself for losing any of it. "It's so sweet, detka, you're just so perfect!"

The smell of your arousal soon flooded the steamy room, pulling your lover from your breasts. She'd cleared your supply out anyway, so it was not shocking that she was kissing down your body now. There was insecurity in the way you moved earlier, when she removed your lingerie, and that made her heart hurt.

Change is inevitable when you carry life, bodies change in permanent ways as skin stretches. It is a miracle, one you've lived through as you carried her son. These dark stripes that now adorned your breasts, stomach and hips were only a beautiful reminder of that miracle. Natasha thought you were beautiful regardless of what you believed, the truth was obvious.

"God Y/N," she groaned, her lips softly pressed into the skin of your hips. It melted you to feel her smile against the new divots in your skin. "My gorgeous girl, look at you carrying around these beautiful marks in memory of our love."

An unexpected sob bubbled up from your chest as your heart melted at her subtle mention of your son, and the genuine lilt to her tone as she praised you for him had you swooning harder.

Natasha went slow as she loosely gripped at your lusher hips, her chapped lips from the constant atmospheric changes scraped over your pregnancy pouch. Kisses being left behind with a whispered praise to follow each one.

"You're the most beautiful girl here Y/N," she sighed as her soft fingertips trailed over the stretch marks while her lips pressed a kiss to the pudgy skin, she smiled against you making you feel her sincerity as she spoke on, "In that room full of people trying to get my attention I only ever saw you—my beautiful, sweet girl"

Her confession made you cry happy tears, she gripped your hand instantly, stroking it in a comforting way as she continued to kiss all over your body. Her lips paused over the scar on your lower belly, you felt her copycat tears, and placed a comforting hand on the back of her head. She chuckled emotionally, pulling back to gaze right into your eyes. Hers were apologetic, remorseful, and sickeningly loving.

“It’s okay Natty,” you reassured, hand slipping to cup her cheek instead. “We’re all okay now.”

Now… Insinuating back to a time when you weren’t, and when she wasn’t there for you.

Natasha pulled her emotions back in for the sake of you. She took her time moving down your body, even slower now, she ignored the ache in her thighs as she stayed crouched. It was important for her to cherish you, she was building your confidence back up as she loved your every mark and curve without hesitation.

When she finally finished dropping to her knees you were dripping for her. She licked her lips seductively, inhaling a long breath as she admired your cunt, the intoxicating smell of your intimacy was enough to drive her feral.

Natasha smiled up at you deviously, "I can't wait to taste you detka." She pressed a kiss to your inner thigh as she breathed, "It's been too damn long." She was letting you know she was preparing to bury her tongue inside of you.

You sent her down a nervous smile, arousing her even further when you looked scared like this. Like you were just a helpless fly caught in her trap, ready to be devoured whole by her venomous lips that spun a sweet web of lust.

Natasha gently lifted your left leg up, settling the crook of your knee onto her outer shoulder, leaving your thighs spread wide open for her. She kissed your skin and whispered, "I love you so much Y/N." You smiled at her words, then her lips latched onto your clit within seconds and you felt it. There was nothing but truth to them, she loved you beyond reason, which is exactly why she's on a prolonged acting hiatus.

You winced as she slipped her tongue inside of your tight hole, the subtle stretch stung. It'd been so long since you felt like this, you'd obviously been untouched since she left; you'd fallen pregnant, and were irrevocably hers.

There was just never going to be a person who knew your body as well. After a few gentle swirls around your clit you settled into the feel of the intrusion, and soon enough you were screaming out in pleasure. Natasha already had you teetering and it'd been under two minutes.

"Need to cum daddy," you panted, "Can I?"

Natasha hummed as she contemplated letting you, her choice made your body freeze, the sensation of the vibration was dizzying. Your clit then reacted as it pulsed beneath her lips.

"Please daddy," you begged, knowing that she loved it whenever you were desperate for her, but you didn't exactly wait for a response as you ground your clit down. Nat harshly gripped your quivering thighs when you tried to resolve your lack of friction problem by riding her perfectly sculpted nose instead of allowing her to remain in charge of your building pleasure.

You whined pitifully as Natasha pulled away with a fixed glare. She shook her head, and softly tutted, "Have some patience detka." Her tongue teasingly swirled around your sensitive bud in the following breath, and you moaned hoarsely. "Let us have our overdue reunion."

Natasha returned to her ministrations with a mumble of permission. You refocused on the pleasure, and felt it increase as you locked eyes. Those green eyes of hers that once presented as a mystery to you now gazed up at you with so much love that you couldn't help but to break.

"Oh daddy, fuck, you're making me cum!!"

Natasha was in awe seeing you coming undone, her cock throbbed as she saw your eyes become hazier. Your tang traversed over her tastebuds. She soon became drunk on your familiar essence as she worked tirelessly to clean you up. There was no turning back, she couldn't stop lapping at you, her shockingly strong arms wrapped around your quivering thighs from below as she hoisted you up, and gently shifted your body to the couch all the while never retreating from her spot between your thighs.

Her strength was borderline ungodly.

The woman had lost her mind as she continued to eat you out, she gleefully ignored her lungs need for air. It was almost like she was stealing yours so perfectly that she became immune to the need to obtain her own oxygen. It was only when her cock throbbed against her leg as you pushed her away with force that she stopped.

"No more," you whimpered, "It's too much."

It wasn't a lie, you were grossly overstimulated, but you were also somewhat bluffing. If you were truly done you'd have whispered your safe word, Red, but you didn't which really only meant you needed a minute. So, for the now, Natasha took to catching her breath while her hands softly caressed your hips. Then slowly but surely she kissed her way back up your body until her smirking face hovered yours.

"Are you ready for daddy's cock yet detka?" She kissed you, her tongue down your throat before you could even respond, you moaned around the muscle as the many tastes caught up to you. There was a bitterness reminiscent of coffee, it was easily drowned out by a sweetness that you knew had come from your breast milk, but that was also rather faint in comparison to your heady arousal that sheened over her face.

"Come on detka," she husked breathlessly, you felt the way her shaft pulsed against your skin as she laid atop of you. "Let me fill you up, I know you must've missed daddy's cock."

"I did," you genuinely cried, sparkling eyes boring into hers as your nails dug into her shoulders in emphasis. Natasha smirked, and gave your honest words a reward as she lined up her fat tip with your entrance and pushed.

"Oh fuck daddy, missed you so much" you squealed as she slowly but surely filled you.

Natasha chuckled softly, "It so good to be home detka." Her lips instantly latched onto the soft skin of your neck as she continued to thrust her cock forward. "Fuck," she panted harshly as her hips stuttered. Sharp teeth suddenly bit into the skin around your pulse point, and you clenched hard, "You're hugging me just right detka, feels like this pussy was made for me."

You lowly moaned your shared sentiments, words long since lost in the fog of your mind as you continued to flutter around her. Raspy, overwhelmed moans followed, up against the skin of your bruising throat as she felt your slicked walls slowly spreading apart for her.

The stretch had your eyes crossed, your hole was so damn tight, and Natasha felt that with every inch she sunk inside, it was heavenly. The way your walls clung to her shaft had her dizzy from the momentary lack of circulation. Then after a moment of complete stillness, where she'd buried her head in the crook of your neck so you both could adjust to the sensation, she slowly began to rock her hips.

The pace remained slow for awhile, the woman remembered just how much your pussy loved tender strokes. Steadily she built you up, the pit of arousal in your lower belly was reaching unbearable. Natasha waited until your first whine of identifiable pain to still herself, her lips kissed up your neck until she was by your ear, "Tell daddy what you need detka. Go on."

"I-I," you swallowed thickly as her eyes were incredibly intense as they peered into yours. "I'm so close daddy, just need you to play." You waved your hands a bit but she played dumb.

"How ever do you mean detka?" Natasha flashed you a teasing grin and you groaned, hands flying up to block your face but she stopped them. "Tell daddy, or you get nothing."

"No. No, please," you cried. "I'm sorry daddy. I just need you to play with my clit please."

"Whatever you need detka." Natasha increased her pace as well, her lips met yours for a sloppy kiss full of tongue and your heavy panting as you struggled to keep up with her pace with her thumb pressing calculated circles into your clit.

A loud snort came from your lips as you fell head first into your orgasm. It was intense, your body shook on top of the bed and your pussy held onto your lovers dick for dear life. Natasha felt like she was going to pass out if she didn't get a second to breathe freely.

After you came around her dick Natasha knew she was close. Bringing you over the edge of no return had always kept her on the edge of her own bliss without much need for friction. It's happened many times actually, where she blew a load without warning onto the furniture just because of how you tasted on her tongue, or for whenever you'd desperately moaned for more.

Natasha was a full time simp for you, nothing turned her on more than your pleasure, so as she continued to bury her throbbing cock into your soaked cunt she knew it wouldn't be long.

The lust of the situation almost made her keep going, but she was feeling nostalgic, so she decided to slow her thrusts. Wordlessly she moved your connected bodies again until she was sat in the chair that started it all. Your lip trembled as you fully sunk onto her, and the deja vu of the moment had tears welling up.

"Shh, don't cry detka," she coo'd, her thumb gently wiped the tears from your cheek, you leaned into the touch which made her smile. Seeing you find comfort in her was out of this world, it felt like her heart was mending. She'd been broken for so long, but you fixed her.

Natasha looked into your glossy eyes with a smile that was riddled with mischief. Nostalgia aside, she had a plan, and you knew her well enough to know it. Without any instructions you began to bounce, she groaned as you had started with a rushed pace. A sign of just how desperate you also were for her to release.

But she needed to be sure first.

Natasha stilled your movements with hands on your cheeks, your eyes spun beneath your lids as your g-spot met her tip with dizzying force. "Want daddy to fill you up detka? Please say you want it too!" Your eyes lazily blinked open, you blearily saw that her lip was caught between her teeth and her eyes were pleading.

"Daddy please breed me!" Natasha grunted, "Are you sure?" You nodded, then squeaked out an adorable yes when she slapped your ass. She chuckled lowly, "Of course you are."

Natasha teasingly thrusted, but gave you nothing else. So you whined, shaking your shoulders in an attempt to get your mobility back but Natasha only gripped you tighter and slammed her lips into yours with brute force.

“Please,” your whisper was pathetically quiet, but Natasha heard you without a problem. The way she slowly picked up a pace while her soft hands roamed your perfect body a clear sign that your desperation affected her. Her words confirmed it: “I'll get you pregnant again detka, after I make you my wife, you'll be my perfect little breeding bitch." Natasha stilled. “Fuck!”

The entirety of your body warmed in tingles, her cum spurting into your walls was euphoric. Natasha’s chest heaved as you greedily kept bouncing, every single lift you’d clench, and she’d continue to feel her releasing into you. Milking her dry as she fought so hard for her even a semblance of cognition. “Detka please.”

You slowed your hips, Natasha’s heart began to follow suit. When you fully stopped, sat on her lap as your mixed releases pooled between your bodies, she leaned her head into your chest. Her nose nuzzled affectionately against the valley of your breasts. Her face decidedly settled there, shaky breaths flowing over your skin eventually faded into soft, steady ones.

While coming down from your own high your fingers mindlessly played with the extensions in her hair, tired eyes admiring the bleached shade, but also feeling ecstatic at the sight of the red roots reemerging. You yawned, the gesture muffling your words as you'd already began speaking, "I love the blonde Natty." She smiled against you tenderly, pulling back she leaned up to peck your lips, then she wrapped her arms around your neck, leaned back once more and nodded with a smile to urge you on.

"You look hot, really, but I prefer the red."

Natasha chuckled, her amusement obvious.

"Thank you detka." Natasha leaned down to kiss your cheek softly. "You ready to go now?"

You nodded and she grinned before reaching into her tote bag to grab a thin robe. Your brows lifted in amusement, her face lifted into a knowing smirk. "I must shield what's mine."

You giggled, "My clothes are down the hall."

The woman shrugged, "But this gives me easy access to you." You gulped and she smirked, her nail scraped over the exposed swell of your breasts as her tone remained teasing, "It's a long drive detka. What else will I do at stop lights if I can't reach over and fuck you dumb?"

"Focus on the road?" You suggested to which she sighed an exaggerated, "Booooring."

Natasha abruptly tied the robe shut, then lifted the both of you off the chair effortlessly. "Say goodbye to the red room detka." The both of you looked back briefly in a moment of appreciation for what it gave to you. "We'll never be back in here again, this chapter in our story is effectively closed moya lyubov'."

"What's that mean Natty?" Natasha blushed as she realized you'll finally get to see just how long you've been hers. "My love." The way your eyes filled with tears brought her close to a breakdown as well but she shushed you softly, "I told you detka, you've always been mine."

Natasha paid no mind to the stares of the patrons as she carried you out of the back room, your bag now slung over her shoulder. Your boss scowled, she didn't need the clientele getting the wrong idea about her business, but once again she was soothed by the cash your lover gave to her in thanks. "Y/N quits."

You giggled into her shirt as you heard your boss's breath catch, she furiously shouted after you both, vague threats to ruin the starlets life but she didn't care much. The world could hear about your story from the owner, or her, they can cast their judgement all they want, but at the end of the day she was happy with her life.

Natasha was happy with having you.

Natasha handed your car keys to her assistant, then she settled you into the back of her SUV before sliding in right beside you with a cheeky grin as you questioned the change in plans.

"I wanted to cuddle," she defended, you raised an untrusting brow, but then you gave her what she wanted by closely snuggling into her side.

Her arm draped over you as you made a call, and she decidedly texted her team about you. Shutting her phone off right as soon as a call began to ring in. They could figure it all out, that's what she pays them the big bucks for.

After you finished checking on your mom and son you turned to see the blonde staring longingly at your lock screen, so you handed her the phone with it open on his photo album.

Her heart fluttered painfully at the first image. It was a side to side comparison of when you were at the end of your pregnancy, bare belly protruding out far, and low. Pasted next to your post pregnancy body, with your newborn in front of your deflated belly, peacefully sleeping. His little face smushed into your arm.

Natasha cleared her throat, doing her best to lessen the emotion in her tone as she spoke. "What's his name?" you smiled fondly at the woman from your seat in the limo, "Apollo."

You were falling even harder, watching as she mindlessly scrolled through your phone with a wide smile as she looked at your shared son.

The natural redhead quirked her brow at you, her silent question rather obvious. "His birth certificate isn't signed yet, I couldn't finish it until I knew where you stood." She beamed at the exciting news, "Well, I say it's about time we get you both on the Romanoff train then."

"It'll take a bit more than some promise of forever and mind blowing sex to win my hand in marriage Nat." She smirked, humming thoughtfully as she leaned over to hover her lips over yours, "Prey tell, how do I do it?"

You pecked her lips. "Stay the night tonight."

"Oh sweetheart, I am not leaving your side," she kissed you deeply to quell your expected rebuttal to her words that almost seemed too good to be true, "This was my last movie for a very long time detka. Consider it like a sort of retirement for at least the next five years."

"Really?" You literally couldn't stop from dancing excitedly in your seat at her words. "Yes," she chuckled at your childlike glee.

"What's the plan exactly?" You pursed your lips up into a subtle pout, "Don't you live in LA?"

"I do," she sighed, "But we don't need to worry about that, I have multiple properties here, but none are close to home without you in them.

"Are you expecting to stay with us then?"

"We'll move on your timeline here, we don't have to move in together if you're not ready. Please just know that I am whenever you are, I'm aware I've had the upper hand in knowing what I wanted here, so I'll be there everyday for whatever you and Apollo need, but don't worry, not in a way that could be seen as overbearing."

"You know, I kinda like the idea of you in my bed every morning," you admitted, "So if it's all the same to you you can move in with us, or we can all follow you out to the golden state."

"I'm good with staying here," she decided, "Apollo's life is here, as is yours, we can decide where to go later, but for now home to me is wherever you are, and here is perfectly fine."

Instead of answering you leaned into her side, she kissed your forehead, and turned your phone so that you could look through them with her. You told her stories, of a wonderful three months spent with him up until you fell asleep, and she listened with a heavy heart.

Natasha carried you into your home, she set you on the couch then began to traipse around the place. She stumbled upon your mother, she was fast asleep with the bassinet beside her bed. Natasha peered into the bed to find a tiny set of green eyes curiously looking up at her.

"Hello there," she greeted in a whisper, he smiled widely, gums on full display as he happily kicked his feet, his natural trust in her clear. "I'm Natasha; you can call me mama."

Natasha didn't want to disturb your mother, it appeared she had just finished up a round of medicine based on the IV drip attached to her. So she lifted your son into her embrace, and reemerged in the living room moments later.

Apollo allowed her the chance to hold him in her lap without any fuss. She settled his butt on her knees, and laid him back on her forearms so she could really look him over. He wore a beige onesie she recognized, she nearly cried at your show of acknowledgment, it was a direct connection to her, a character she had voiced.

"You are so pretty," she admired his perfect blending of features. He was similar in skin tone to you, slightly lighter but not by much, and he currently had a head full of dark red locks that sold him as hers within an instant. His eyes were your shape, but unmistakably her gorgeous shade of green won out. He had a button nose, and his lips resembled yours.

Apollo observed his mother much the same, he couldn't exactly grasp much about her tie to him at only three months old, but his body knew she was a safe person. He'd been hesitant with most people, he took over a month to warm up to your nanny—your brother, who was currently making pasta for dinner and was none the wiser to your son's new whereabouts.

His tiny legs suddenly kicked her stomach as if he discovered something exciting and had to tell her, and surprisingly she understood the baby's little gesture. "What is it buddy?"

You smirked from behind her, "Mommy's boy."

You rounded the couch, and went to sit beside your girlfriend but she yanked you into her lap instead. She cradled the baby to her chest, and after you settled down with your back against the armrest, and with your legs on the couch she returned Apollo to lay on her arms that were now resting on your lap. "Moya sem'ya."

(My family)

Natasha kissed both of your cheeks, and you watched as tears befell hers. "Are you okay?"

She wiped her tears on the back of her hand as she nodded. "Honestly?" A wide grin suddenly took over her face. "I've never been better."

"Oh my gosh," you giggled wildly, "Is it true, that Hollywood's very own brooding lesbian with a train of fan girls is a total romantic?"

Natasha's jaw briefly clenched, you could cut through the thick tension with the sharp bones.

"They don't matter," she whispered, lower lip now wobbling. "Only you, and our son matter. Your family too. Fuck the fans and Fuck the media." She needed you to know, that without a doubt, she's exactly where she wants to be.

"Natasha, hey it's okay, I know," you spoke softly, thumb caressing her cheek as you slowly ran it down to the taut skin of her jaw, she miraculously responded and unclenched.

Then you tilted her face up with your fingers beneath her chin. "I was only playing your silly title up, I know what I have with you is sacred."

"Because it is," she chokes out, her voice raspy as she's overcome with emotion, "I love you. More than I've ever loved anyone before. I adore the way you tell me about your studies while I mindlessly play with the short hairs on the nape your neck. The way you always took care of me after a session, I'd clean your body, but you'd mend my heart with just a smile."

"Fuck Natasha, I thought I was done crying over you," your tone was humorous as you slapped her shoulder lightly. Natasha chuckled, not at your loaded words, but at the way your son went from lazily smiling to glaring up at her in wonder. You laughed too once you caught on. "Don't worry bubby, Mama's just making Mommy happy, it's a-okay malysh."

Natasha smiled at you, leaning in swiftly she stole an appreciative kiss. "You're learning Russian for our son?" You smiled softly and she couldn't fight the blush running up her neck. "God Y/N, you're the ideal partner."

Apollo huffed when you leaned in to kiss Natasha again, for a few beats longer than the last time. You smirked when Natasha pulled away from you all concerned. Her eyes surveyed the infant with precision, and once she concluded he wasn't hurt she locked her gaze on his face. His chubby, adorable face glistening in his drool. She sighed in relief as Apollo returned to his calmed demeanor. He grinned up at her over his fingers and blew.

"Oh look," you jested, pointing a thumb at him, he looks up at you in pre offense. "He's gotten his jealousy from you, it must be hereditary."

"It's definitely a biological response," she jests back with that notorious wink smirk combo of hers that initially drew you to her, and sends a shiver running up and down your spine.

"You're insatiable dorogoy," you call her out, meanwhile your slyly shifting your legs around in an attempt to get relief. Natasha notices.

"I adore your Russian accent baby," she giggles, a rare melodic sound that humanizes your actress of a lover. "It's uniquely you."

Natasha throws her head back as she cackles. The glare you'd sent her was priceless. You slapped her arm once again and your son laughed. The both of you stilled. Shocked to hear that precious sound from your tiny guy.

Your brother came running into the living room, a bandana on his head pushing his hair back, wearing a pink "Kiss the Chef" apron with white frills on the bottom with a sizzling pan in hand. He shrieks as soon as he sees the starlet beneath you. He lifts the spatula up to shield his face, but it hides nothing, the shame is evident. He leaves just as fast as he came.

The room is silent for a moment, your son looks as if he's deep in thought. His tiny brows manage to furrow, clearly he is processing. You witness Natasha smirking out of the corner of your eye, then you looked down to see your baby boys goofy, gummy grin. His squeaky laughter follows, and you cry as you feel his joy.

It's euphoric, as if you too were experiencing a laugh for the first time again. A pure feeling.

Meanwhile Natasha is doing all she can to keep his amusement going long enough for her to capture this precious moment on her phone. Shifting him to one arm, using her lap more, and pulling faces at him as she unlocks it. The woman presses record, capturing the beautiful sound, but unfortunately the camera is on her face instead of the infants. However, in a turn of events you kept your cool a bit better, and caught your sons boisterous laughter as well as his precious, deep dimpled smile. And at the angle you were, you caught your baby mama's face full of adoration along with your sons.

Then your brother returned, he slicked his hair back with a hand that he then extended to your girlfriend, and stammered, "Hi, um, I'm Cole."

"Hello Cole, I'm Natasha," she greeted him, but her gaze never met his. It was probably rude, but she dealt with enough young men to know it's best to let them down with disinterest. Also, she just couldn't look away from Apollo's face.

You'd never told your brother who the other parent was, mostly because he wouldn't ever believe you. But now, as he looked over to find you smirking he began to understand. The way she looked up at you, flashing you a grin while her green eyes sparkled was his final clue in.

Not the fact that you were in her lap…

"Oh my gosh," he shrieked. "Y/N, how the hell did you manage to pull Natasha Romanoff?"

"For one, I didn't stutter over my words," you teased, and your girlfriend laughed shortly, she hadn't meant to let it escape, but it did, and in all honesty he deserved it. "Y/N is the one who pulled me actually," she cuts you off, her free hands slipping into yours. "She's perfect."

"Where have you been then?" You sent your brother a glare as you saw the way Natasha froze up once more, but he paid it no mind.

She handed your son over, and stood to be eye level with your younger brother. It was tense for a second before she dropped her defensive stance. "I was a bit reckless, and I did a lot of things wrong, but I can assure you that I'm here now, and that's all you need to know."

Cole pursed his lips, and gave her an assessing stare before nodding slowly. "Be good to her."

He left promptly after, calling out that dinner was going to be ready in ten. After the lot of you shared a much calmer meal you stopped by to nervously introduced her to your mom. They shared in a sweet conversation, Nat promised your mom she'd be here from this point on. It wasn't hard for them to take to each other, and your heart melted into a puddle when she had helped your mom through a harsh coughing fit.

Natasha followed you obediently as you guided her to your room, you settled onto the bed, and fed your son as she looked around the space.

"You guys share a room?" You hummed a yes while moving Apollo to your shoulder so that you could burp him, and she looked at you. "Would you wanna move to my Manhattan loft? Your brother can stay here with your mom, and I can get her a live in nurse."

It was a no brainer honestly. Living with your mother while sharing a bed with your lover, and a space with your son wasn't ideal at all.

“I don’t want to rush things,” you start, feeling horrible as her face fell. “I want this, but it’s new, and I don’t want us to rush and break it.”

Natasha nodded, humming thoughtfully. “I’m not going anywhere Y/N. I’ve already sent my team a statement to release. I’m done acting, not forever, but for a very long time. My life is always go-go-go, but I’m done. I finally found something worth sticking around for.”

You smiled, Apollo looked up at Natasha and mirrored your expression. She sobbed happily.

“Okay.” You gave in easily. “We’ll follow you.”

Natasha settled down beside you in the bed, she kissed your lips softly, then she did the same to your son’s forehead, then she took him and began to burp him like a natural. The rest of the night went just a seamlessly, where you bathed him, then got him down and into bed.

Then if she couldn’t be anymore perfect she guided you into a warm bath, taking care of your every need with tender care. I love you felt with every swipe of her hands over your body. Natasha got you dressed in a nursing bra and panties, then she slipped into a pair of your sleep shorts and a cotton sports bra.

“I’ll be right behind you detka,” Natasha kissed your cheek, then ushered your protesting form out of the bathroom so she could clean up.

You slipped into bed gratefully, leaving your arms open wide to seem inviting. Natasha fell into your embrace with a pleasured sigh a few minutes later. Neither of you spoke, and it was like that for a long while, the only reason you knew the other was awake is because you're lazily carding your fingers through Natasha's hair, and she was mindlessly tickling your side.

"I'm learning Russian for you moya lyubov'," you hummed against her temple, repeating the words back to her that she'd taught you earlier while leaving a wet kiss against her hairline.

Natasha lifts her body up so that she can hover over you while leaning on her elbows. She sighs dreamily, "Vykhodi za menya?" Natasha took a leap of faith, hoping you'd gotten this far in a lesson. Interpersonal relationships are usually within the first few lessons of any language.

(Marry Me)

"What's the rush?" You teased, but then her face fell and you softened. "I will answer you when you ask me again. I don't need anything fancy, but I can assure you I do need a ring."

Natasha leaned down to kiss your lips softly. Then she buried her face against your chest so that she could release her excitement without waking the sleeping baby in the bassinet. You giggled quietly, and ran a hand down her back, that slowly inched back up as she shimmied until her lower body was slotted between your legs, with her chin pressed into your tummy.

"I'll make it special anyways," she mumbled into the soft skin of your stomach, her lips left a lazy kiss before her cheek nuzzled into your warmth. The redhead found laying atop of you like this comforting, she knew it was a fleeting moment since you preferred to sleep covered. Natasha wouldn't mind the blanket, but you wouldn't let her sleep under it completely.

“I believe you,” you breathed tiredly. Natasha shimmied back up, and brought you into albeit too brief, a heartwarmingly tender make out.

“Goodnight Natty.” You snuggled into her arms this time, and pecked her shoulder. Natasha sighed contently, “Goodnight moya lyubovs’.”

——

10,312 Words

I’m like actually really happy with this one. 🥹

Part 2

❤️ Kaitlyn 🥰

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff smut #gxg #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader

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wintaerbaer · 11 months ago

Text

ringing in the year (jjk)

summary: Your six-year relationship with Jungkook certainly hasn't been devoid of the occasional mishap. But when Seokjin accidentally winds up with a gift meant for you, Jungkook's proposal may wind up being the biggest blunder of all.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: generally sfw, sans a handful of swear words

genre: established relationship au, pure fluff, bit of a crack fic

word count: 2.2k

a/n: this was so fun to write, and a bunch of the details were inspired by real life events! thanks to @animeniacss for brainstorming this one with me and sprinting me through it. wishing everyone a happy and healthy new year! <3

MASTERLIST

Jungkook knows he’s messed up several times over the course of your six-year relationship.

There was the time in college when he wanted to cook you dinner and, upon realizing that he didn’t have a corkscrew to open the bottle of wine, tried to pry it open with a screwdriver and sprayed most of it all over the kitchen and himself.

There was the time when he ate suspiciously old-looking dumplings out of the fridge for lunch in spite of Hoseok’s warnings and spent your anniversary date that night going in and out of the bathroom.

And of course, there was the time when he'd insisted that it was fine for you to get frisky in the living room because Jimin wouldn't be back until tomorrow. Only to realize, oh wait, it's Saturday, the second the man himself walked in the door with both Yoongi and Taehyung in tow, all three getting quite the view of you and Jungkook on the area rug.

But this right here, he thinks, has got to be his biggest fuck-up of all, watching Seokjin peel back the wrapping paper on his white elephant gift to reveal a white mug that says, in large black lettering, “WORLD’S BEST WIFE.”

“Awww, Jungkookie,” he coos, raising the mug up above his head to show it off. “You’re proposing?”

He is, in fact, trying to propose, but certainly not to Seokjin. Every New Year’s Eve since sophomore year of college, your friend group has gotten together to party and do a holiday gift exchange that consists of a white elephant round and a general present swap.

Jungkook, wanting to propose amongst your friends and on what you’ve always said is your favorite day each year, had intended to give you the mug and propose later in the night. But, it would seem, he must’ve mixed up the two presents, putting your mug into the white elephant pile instead of the travel mug he had meant to contribute.

“Ah, Y/N,” Seokjin is now sighing, “I’m so sorry you had to find out this way.”

You're giggling, wrapped in a burrito blanket that was courtesy of Hoseok. “It's okay. I understand that your love can't be denied.”

“Actually, hyung,” Jungkook finally gets the courage to pipe up. Is it hot in here? It feels hot in here. He might be sweating. “Can I talk to you in the kitchen for a second?”

“You need to talk now?” Hobi asks, wearing a t-shirt that also happens to be a collage of Seokjin's face–his white elephant offering. “It’s Yoongi’s turn. Let’s finish the white elephant, and then you can talk.”

“But–”

“I want Namjoon’s,” Yoongi says, snatching up the gift and tearing away the paper to unfurl a large black Snuggie. “Oh, fuck yeah.”

“You got a Snuggie?” Jimin jeers in Namjoon’s direction. “Lame.”

“Lame? It’s funny,” Namjoon argues.

“Yeah, if it was 2008.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining.” Yoongi slides his arms into the sleeves, settling into the couch and eyeing the rest of the group warily.

Jimin rolls his eyes at him. “No one is going to steal it, hyung.”

“Nobody better fucking steal it.”

The game actually finishes with no steals. Namjoon opens up your gift (a KFC-scented fire log) and Jimin and Taehyung choose each other’s only to find out that they both bought Bob Ross Chia Pets. With the game over, your group devolves back into party mingling–Yoongi dozing off on the couch in his new Snuggie, Jimin and Taehyung heading immediately to the dining room to get started on their chia projects, and the rest of you trying to decide which party games you’re going to play as the night goes on.

But when Seokjin stands up, declaring that he’s heading to the kitchen to get a drink for his “fun new mug,” Jungkook jumps to follow him, bringing along the slab of granite with twenty dollars taped to it that he’d opened (“I’m renovating my countertops,” Yoongi had explained).

“Hyung,” Jungkook hisses as Seokjin reaches into the fridge for a beer. “I need that mug.”

Seokjin turns, sizing him up in the glow of the refrigerator. “Then you probably should’ve picked it.”

Jungkook huffs in exasperation before stepping in closer, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “Listen, I am trying to propose to Y/N tonight.”

“With a white elephant gift that anyone could’ve gotten?” He clicks his tongue, scolding. “That’s just terrible planning, Jungkookie. And proposing with a mug? A little boring.”

Color rises to Jungkook’s face, giving his cheeks a natural blush. “We were watching reruns of The Office when I kissed her for the first time. And it wasn’t supposed to be a white elephant–you know what? It doesn’t matter at this point. I just need the mug back.”

He reaches for the counter, intending to steal the mug away, but Seokjin gets there first, cradling it to his chest with a pout. “No, it’s mine. I opened it, and I’ve already imprinted–”

“We never should’ve let Y/N show you Twilight. Here, look.” He raises the granite sample and money in his hands, offering it up. “I’ll give you Yoongi’s gift and the gift I was supposed to be giving for the game. You’ll get two.”

Seokjin narrows his eyes in suspicion. “What was your original gift?”

“A travel mug that says, ‘Weird to be the same age as old people.’”

He gets a wrinkled nose in response. “Well I like this one better. The other one calls me old. This one says I’m the best wife ever.”

“Oh my God, hyung. You’re not a wife!”

“I’m not old either!”

Jungkook throws his arms up in frustration, practically launching his hunk of stone across the room. “Then what am I supposed to do? You’re really going to ruin my entire proposal?”

“Hmm.” Seokjin lifts a hand to his chin, the other still clutching the mug to his body. “Thirty-two-race drunk Mario Kart?”

“Hyung.”

“What? You want the mug–this is how you can get it.”

Jungkook scrubs a hand over his face, accepts the inevitable. “Okay, fine. I’ll do it.”

“Hooray!” A clap of his hands as Seokjin practically skips from the kitchen. “I’ll get us set up!”

By the time Jungkook drags his feet into the living room, Seokjin has already gathered a crowd, your friends piling onto the couches and armchairs to watch the upcoming event. Surely they’re expecting a slaughter; Seokjin is notoriously a Mario Kart ace.

“You looking to get drunk, babe?” you ask, settling into the spot next to him on the couch. “There are easier, less humiliating ways, you know.”

He pouts, eyebrows squishing together. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he grumbles, immediately forgiving you when you press your lips to his.

“For luck,” you say, giving him one more peck before sitting back to watch Seokjin hand him a controller, shot glass, and bottle of soju.

“Pick your character.” He plops onto Jungkook’s other side, selecting his own racer on the screen.

“Peach? Really?” Namjoon teases.

Seokjin shoots him a look. “I don’t wanna hear that from a basic-ass Mario main.”

Jungkook, meanwhile, chooses Donkey Kong, and loads up the first map, Peach and Donkey Kong lining up in their pink and yellow go-karts at the starting line.

“May the best me win,” Seokjin says, a split second before the light goes green.

He does win the race. And the next one and the next one. And Jungkook is three shots in before he even knows what hit him, fingers wrapped tightly around the controller.

“Not too late to back out, Jungkookie,” Seokjin jests, nudging him in the ribs. “At least leave with your pride intact.”

But before Jungkook can even respond, mouth already half-open in indignation, you wrap a soothing hand around his knee, massaging lightly.

“You've got this, Kook. You can do it.”

The sound of your voice puts him at ease almost instantly, and he ignores Seokjin, loading up the next track. This time, he does his best to relax, letting the feel of your palm siphon away his anxiety.

This is for you. He can do this for you.

The race is close, their cartoon avatars neck-and-neck until Jungkook manages to gain an edge at the very last second and blow through the finish line first.

“Holy shit!” Taehyung exclaims. “The Kart King lost?!”

“Calm down, it's one race,” Seokjin says. But he shifts forward on the couch as he takes his shot of soju, clearly miffed. “We have twenty-eight more to go. I like my odds.”

Seokjin wins the next one again, celebrating with a whoop, but Jungkook goes on a run after that, winning three in a row so they're tied. And once the thirty-second race has been driven, Seokjin has won sixteen, Jungkook has won sixteen, and they've each drunk two bottles of soju apiece.

“TIEBREAKER RACE,” Seokjin slurs, swaying on his feet. He's played the last dozen games standing up, claiming it “helps with the turns,” whatever that means.

“I think you two have had enough,” you say, patting Jungkook lovingly on the arm. “Just call it a tie and leave it there.”

He jerks away, stretching his arm out like he thinks you're going to try and take the controller from him. “No, Y/N! I need that mug!”

Your lips pull down into a frown. “What mug?”

“I think Y/N is right, you guys,” Namjoon chimes in. “You both need some water.”

“Everyone shut the fuck up. I'm trying to sleep,” grumbles the Snuggie blob.

“ONE MORE RACE!” Seokjin yells, insistent. “FOR IT ALL! FOR THE MUG!”

“Again, what mug?”

But you don't get an answer. Instead, Jungkook shouts, “FINE! RAINBOW ROAD, ASSHOLE!” and everyone's eyes fixate on the screen, eager to find out who will emerge victorious.

Both characters rip off the starting line, Seokjin quickly obtaining a mushroom power-up that gives him a speed boost and comfortable lead. But after Jungkook lucks out on a green shell throw, causing Seokjin to spin out of control, he takes the lead as the first lap ends.

“C’mon, babe!” you cheer, Jimin and Taehyung joining in in their desire to see the Kart King tumbled from his throne.

Jungkook holds his lead for most of the lap, but Seokjin takes it back after a couple more mushroom boosts and a red shell. The final lap is tight, the lead going back and forth and back and forth until all hope seems lost as Seokjin begins to pull away on the last leg…

Only for him to cut the final turn too closely, allowing Jungkook to bump him right over the side of the track and into space before blasting across the finish line.

The room erupts in cheers, Jungkook leaping to his feet with a shout even as Seokjin falls to the floor with a scream of anguish. You stand as well, trying to give your boyfriend a hug, but you’re shocked when he moves away from you instead, preoccupied with something on the dining table.

He crosses the room–dodging Jimin and Taehyung, who are now flossing over Seokjin’s prone body–to grab the “WORLD’S BEST WIFE” mug and triumphantly raise it in the air before stumbling back to where you stand both perplexed and amused by the scene before you.

“This,” he says, clumsily pressing the mug into your hands, “was supposed to be for you.”

“World’s Best Wife?” you ask, heart hiccuping as you begin to have a suspicion. “Like Michael Scott’s mug?”

“Yes!” The word feels heavy moving off of his tongue, and he suddenly regrets not being sober for this. “Because uhhhh…I have this for you, too. Shit, wait.”

He fumbles around his pockets, panicking until he finds the ring, slips it out of his pants, and drops to his knee with a graceless thud.

“Ow, crap. Y/N.” He takes your hand, and in spite of the absurdity of it all, in spite of the fact that part of the room is now fawning over you while the other part is either sleeping or on the floor, you feel tears pricking your eyes.

Really, you couldn’t think of a more perfect scene.

“Y/N,” he begins again–slowly, like his words need to be corralled, “I love you. So much. And I know I may sometimes be forgetful or foolish or careless–sometimes I might accidentally spray wine all over the kitchen or ruin a proposal because I gave Seokjin the wrong present by mistake–but I just…love you.” He blinks, thoughts drifting away from him as the soju continues to take its toll. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what I’m saying is even making sense, but…I find I don’t mind having those moments as long as you’re there with me. I’m fine making a fool out of myself if it’ll make you smile or laugh so…” He hoists the ring up just a little higher, eyes hopeful. “Marry me?”

A leaping sensation takes off behind your ribs as you gasp, “Yes, Jungkook. Of course, yes.”

For someone who’s drunk, he surges back up with incredible speed to capture your mouth in a kiss, dragging your body to his and swaying you side-to-side.

“Congratulations, you two,” Yoongi says through the applause of your friends–even Seokjin managing to clap his hands like a seal from the floor. “Now can I please get some fucking sleep?”

a/n: please consider liking, reblogging, or commenting if you enjoyed :)

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