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bunnis-monsters · 9 months ago

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Haunted

Male!Yandere Poltergeist x Fem!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober

Oct 13th

Oct 12

Oct 14

summary: when you’re dared to go to a haunted house, you bring something inhuman back with you.

warnings: dubcon, somno, breeding, belly bulge, pregnancy

A/N: this is a 6k word commission!!

When your friends dared you to check out a haunted house, of course you accepted. You were never one to turn down a dare, even if you were afraid.

Tying back your hair, you made sure you packed your flashlight and water before tying your shoes and heading out.

It had been rainy recently. Puddles littered the ground, and the sky was a sad gray. The news reporter mentioned a thunderstorm that night… but you shrugged it off.

‘I’ll be home before then, everything is going to be okay. As long as I make it out before 8 pm, I can be back at my apartment before it’s too stormy to walk home safely.’

In the past few years, you had taken an interest in the paranormal, occasionally visiting haunted hot spots and taking a look. Your friends said they found it creepy and dangerous, but now they were daring you to go check out an abandoned building… maybe they were changing their minds?

You stopped as the sidewalk ended and wild grass began. It seemed no one cleaned and maintained the sidewalk past this point, allowing the grass to become overgrown.

‘That’s inconvenient. Hope I don’t slip…’

Taking careful steps, you wandered further down the road, making sure to be aware of your surroundings. You weren’t exactly in a great part of town, there had even recently been a robbery in a neighborhood nearby.

But from what you heard from your friends, most people steered clear of the haunted house, fearing that they would be cursed if they stepped in.

You, however, were far from afraid. In fact, you were super excited to see if the rumors were true! Of course you were a bit nervous, but it paled in comparison to your excitement.

The abandoned house before you was two stories high, with large windows covered in boards that had been nailed in after a few break-ins.

You could tell the house had been white at some point in time, but now it was almost a grayish yellow, the paint chipping away to reveal the wood underneath.

The porch had a few holes which you attempted to avoid, but yelped when you stepped on a weak floorboard and fell through.

Thankfully you were able to pull your foot out of the toe easily with only a few scratches on your ankle.

As you walked in, the smell of decay and rot hit your nose, making you cover it with your sleeve. The house had been abandoned for years now, and if you hadn’t known, you’d think it had never been lived in at all.

Perhaps items had been stolen, or maybe nothing had ever been there in teb first place, because the house was bare. No furniture or personal items besides a few chairs and tables on the first floor… there aren’t even any appliances in the kitchen.

“I guess even the oven was taken.”

You glanced around the kitchen, noticing a space meant for an oven, but lacking one. “I wonder if it’s different upstairs…”

Climbing up the steps wasn’t easy, and you feared you would fall with each step you climbed. Your foot even fell through one, nearly knocking you off balance!

“Crap! Agh… maybe I shouldn’t go upstairs…”

But… you had to. You weren’t sure why, but something was drawing you upstairs, beckoning you to explore…

When you finally reached the top of the staircase, you sighed in relief. At least the flooding looked stable enough, no holes and the boards weren’t too creaky…

There were three doors to explore, and you decided to look into the closest one first.

The door was plain white, and upon opening it you were met with a pretty basic bedroom. A bed and a dresser, with a broken lamp sitting on a nightstand.

The next room was mostly empty, only a bare bed with a few leaves that flew in from the broken window.

The last room wasn’t easy to get into. You struggled with the doorknob for a moment, then broke it. That allowed you to get in, but you did feel bad breaking something without a good reason.

Walking into the room, the first thing you noticed was how clean it was.

There wasn’t a spec of dust on the bed or nightstand, as if someone had been keeping everything meticulously clean. This was a stark contrast to the other dirty, disheveled rooms covered in dust and debris that was common for a long since abandoned house.

You tread lightly, knowing that upper floors in old houses like these could sometimes be dangerous. The wood could have rotted, or maybe termites chewed through and created thin spots in the floor.

A shimmer out of the corner of your eye made you turn. On the nightstand was a silver locket, shining I’m the evening sun.

“Oh wow, is that real silver?”

You picked it up, turning it in the light to get a good look at it. It seemed to be well taken care of, but it was jammed shut. Despite you trying to open it multiple times, you couldn’t seem to.

Suddenly it felt… strangely warm, and had a slight tremble to it. The locket almost felt like it was.. pulsating…

You felt a strange urge to take it with you…

“Well… no one has lived here for years. It… shouldn’t matter if I take it home.”

After tucking it away in your pocket, you made it downstairs and got ready to leave.

For a moment you considered staying longer and exploring the basement and backyard, but suddenly your thigh felt like it was burning!

You yelped, running outside and reaching into your pocket. The second you were outside of the house, the burning feeling was gone.

Had the locket suddenly become hot or were you just imagining things?

Regardless, you decided that going home was for the best. It was getting late after all, and you weren’t a fan of being outside when it got dark out.

As it started to sprinkle lightly right as you got home, you were grateful you left when you did. You might have been trapped in that old house for the night if you had explored any further.

A strange thought came to your head just then. Did… the locket know it was going to rain?

‘That’s ridiculous…’ you thought to yourself as you changed out of your damp clothes, looking at the locket while you turned on the shower.

‘It’s just a necklace…’

You stepped in, letting the water wash over your body and warm you up. It felt nice, after exploring such an old and dusty house to get all clean and watch the dirt wash away.

You placed a hand over your soft belly, rubbing the soap inyo your skin. “Mmm…”

The shower was relaxing for a bit, but you nearly jumped out of your skin when you caught something in your peripheral vision.

There was a tall, dark figure standing behind the shower curtain, seemingly… facing away from you?

You quickly pulled back the curtain, holding a shampoo bottle as a weapon… but no one was there.

‘… maybe I’ve been watching too many horror movies. Going to that old house has me feeling anxious.”

You wrapped a towel around your body, trying to ignore the horrible feeling in your gut. It was like your body was screaming at you that someone was there and you were being watched.

‘I’ll feel better after I eat something. I’ll watch a comedy movie, that should calm me down at least a little bit.’

Once the TV was on, the towel wrapped around your body dropped to the floor, leaving you completely bare.

Before you could get dressed, you felt like there were eyes on you again. It made you feel self conscious, like you were being stared at without your knowledge.

You hurriedly ran to your closet, throwing on a pair of panties and an oversized shirt to cover yourself.

“H-hello? Is anyone there? I… can feel you staring at me…”

There was no answer, just the sound of thunder outside. You felt stupid, it was probably just the paranoia from being in that stupid abandoned house still making you think someone was watching you!

‘This is stupid…’

You huffed, settling into your bed and watching some TV. There was no one in your home, you were completely safe and that was that!

At least… that’s what you kept telling yourself. Even as you finally relaxed a bit and got ready for bed, you still felt an aching sensation in your gut telling you something was wrong, that you had brought some kind of curse of demon home with you from that abandoned house.

But even so, you were too tired to make a fuss and decided to go to bed. It was late and you needed sleep for the class you had tomorrow! You didn’t want to be late again…

You drifted off, clutching your pillow as the locket on your nightstand shone in the moonlight. It was the last thing you saw before you fell asleep.

When you awoke in the middle of the night, something felt wrong. It was nighttime so it was normal for it to be dark… but usually at least a bit of moonlight shone through your sheer curtains.

But as you glanced around your room with your groggy eyes, you could barely make out your furniture in the overbearing darkness…

You were so confused with how dark it was that you didn’t even notice the figure staring down at you until you laid back down.

“Ah-!”

Your mouth was covered, and you shook in fear as your body was paralyzed with fear. All you could do was tremble and stare up into the… handsome face of a dark haired man.

“Don’t scream. Not here to hurt you…” he murmured, holding a finger to his lips.

He sighed, scratching the back of his head. “I wasn’t expecting you to wake up all of a sudden… it’s dangerous for a girl to be living on her own, you know? But don’t worry…”

He moved his hand from your mouth to your hair, ruffling it. “Your big brother is looking out for you.”

You watched on in shock as he placed the locket in your hand, then slowly faded away. That man… he just disappeared? What!?

It wasn’t easy going back to sleep, but you were beyond exhausted and had a class in the morning. Who was that man… and why had he called himself your big brother?

In the morning, you thought you had left the locket behind in the trash. You threw it away the second you woke up, hoping that would stop whatever was happening.

But alas, as you walked towards your college campus and reached into your pocket to take out your phone, you felt the familiar cool surface of the silver locket.

“Fuck.”

You spotted your friends standing outside of the building, and you jogged over to meet them.

“Hey guys!”

They turned, some frowning while the others put up a half assed smile. “Hey. Did you go to the haunted house last night?”

You nodded, scratching the back of your head. “Yeah… it was pretty scary. I didn’t stay for too long.”

The leader frowned. She tapped against her school binder with her sharp acrylic nails. “Really? You couldn’t even stay the night?”

You shrunk under her judging gaze, your eyes on the floor. “You didn’t say I had to stay the night…”

She scowled. “I shouldn’t have to tell you what’s obvious, dumbass. You want to be a part of our sorority, you have to do the dares just like the other initiates. We let you try, even though you’re…”

The woman looked down at your belly, then back to your face. “Tubby. Just be grateful.”

You nodded, looking away from her. “Alright… I’m sorry.”

As soon as you apologized, the woman smiled. “Oh, don’t worry about it. You didn’t stay the night, but you still went to the house. So…”

She pulled out a card. “Here’s the official invitation to one of our parties. It’s in your honor.”

You beamed, grabbing hold of the letter. “Oh wow, really? I thought I still had more to do…”

“Shh, you’ve done enough. Just be there on time, okay? We have something special planned for you.”

You all got settled in your seats, and you left to use the bathroom. You were so excited, you’d finally get to join the best sorority on campus!

But as soon as you were out of earshot, the group of girls started giggling. “God, she’s so gullible. She really thinks we’d let someone like her into our sorority.”

The leader leaned back in her chair, folding her legs. “As soon as she steps through the door, we’ll all throw food at our little piggy. Hell, maybe she’ll get on the ground and start eating everything we’ve thrown at her.”

They all laughed, other students glancing at them in annoyance and disgust. But they all knew that trying to go against them was a suicide mission. The leader’s father was the sheriff, and she was a daddy’s girl.

The locket pulsed with anger from your backpack, emitting an uncomfortable heat. The entity in your locket had heard every single word…

And he wouldn’t let them do that to you.

As you walked home after class, you yelped when a man materialized next to you. He kept a hand on your waist, guiding you home.

“Y-you’re the man from last night…”

He nodded, keeping you close as he walked. “I am. You have some… interesting friends.”

“…”

You weren’t stupid, you knew they weren’t good friends, but your mother and grandmother had been in that sorority, and you wanted to make them proud.

“… they’re not all that bad. They’re throwing me a party this weekend…”

He didn’t answer, his grip on your waist tightening. “You shouldn’t go.”

You frowned. “I don’t really have a choice. If I don’t go, there’s no way I’m getting into the sorority.”

The ghost sighed, walking into your home with you.

“W-wait!”

You grabbed the locket out of your bag. “Why… aren’t I freaking out? You’re that weird ghost thing! Get out of my house.”

But you didn’t feel scared, there was a strange calmness in your chest that made you feel uneasy.

He approached, and you began to feel almost tired, lethargic.

“It’s because I’m keeping you calm. Last night your heart rate spiked and you were terrified of my very presence, so I’ve been doing my best to eliminate your fears and anxieties.”

He brushed back your hair, his touch cool on your flushed skin. “Easy… it’s strange, I know… but I’m not here to hurt you. I’m keeping you safe, remember?”

That night you stayed up late researching ghosts and other supernatural phenomena. Not much turned up for ghosts being able to control your emotions… just the average poltergeists throwing shit around and scaring the life out of people.

This ghost seemed more like a guardian angel than a poltergeist, but you had no idea why he was protecting you or what from.

You ended up drifting off with your laptop still on. The ghost materialized beside you, his eyes moving over your figure.

Your body was soft and fragile, unlike the younger siblings he had taken care of during his life. He’d been the oldest of seven brothers, and had never gotten the chance to be with a girl, much less watch one sleep.

When you picked up his locket, he felt an instant connection to you. Many people had stolen the silver locket before, but he simply haunted them until they returned it to the haunted house.

His resting place.

With you, though? His heart felt heavy at the very thought of anything hurting you. He wanted to protect you, to watch over you every second of the day and hold you close…

So… he must have loved you like a sibling then, right?

He had never been in love before, the only love he ever experienced was the brotherly love he had for his younger siblings.

He needed to know more about women, what they needed and how they acted. You were almost like a different species to him at this point…

So he glanced at your laptop before slowly sliding it towards him. It took him a few minutes to learn how it worked, but thankfully he had been watching you like a hawk as you typed away earlier and had a basic understanding.

He died nearly a hundred years ago, so without that he would have been clueless! The ghost was smart though, and began searching for answers regarding the female gender.

First, he looked up the definition, nodding along as if it was new information to him. Then, he thought for a moment…

What else did he want to know?

‘Well… if she gets injured, I should know what her anatomy is like so I can help her.’

During his time, many people said women and men were completely different, so he wanted to know. Searching through the internet, he looked up the anatomy of a female body…

Most of it was diagrams of internal organs and bone structure… and then he found something… intriguing.

A picture of a vagina, fingers pulling back the lips to reveal the glistening clit. His body reacted to the picture, and he found himself feeling confused.

His heart raced against his rib cage, his throat dry as his shaky hands typed out the name of the female sex organ.

‘Vagina…’

So many pictures popped up, and his eyes went wide with the variety of different shaped, colored, and sized pussies on screen. He felt his cock twitch in his pants when he stumbled upon a certain gif.

A woman’s wet cunt hovered over a fat cock, slowly lowering herself onto it, letting it stretch her out.

He glanced at you, his eyes moving down your form and to your loose lounge shorts. What did your pussy look like..?

His eyes went wide and he shook his head. ‘No… I… shouldn’t think things like that… I have to protect her.’

But even as those thoughts echoed through his head, he couldn’t help but inch closer, slowly pulling back the loose fabric of your shorts and looking at the soft outline of your pretty cunt.

He let out a shaky breath, slowly pulling back your panties to get a good look at you.

His cock twitched, aching as he stared down at your pussy for the very first time. This… was perplexing. His entire body was telling him to touch and feel you for himself, to spread open your pussy lips and see your cute, perky clit…

He was so confused, his body hot as he struggled to control his urges. What did he feel for you? Why did he want to court you, to kiss your plump lips and slip his fingers inside of you?

Images of you splayed out on the bed, your legs spread wide open to give him a nice view appeared in his wandering mind.

Your fingers moved over your clit, rubbing and circling it, before you moved down to your wet hole, slowly inserting a finger…

He shook his head, looking down to see his cock hard and pressing against his pants, wanting to be let out. He bit his lip, walking over to look at your lovely sleeping face. The ghost hesitantly pulled out his cock, stroking it shyly over your face.

Right before he came he stepped back, cumming all over your blanket. It was sticky and strangely cold, his flushed and body relaxed as he panted softly.

That felt way too good…

Before he knew what he was doing, he curiously leaned forward and licked your cheek. You tasted so lovely, he couldn’t help but move his tongue down your body, to your clothed breast and finally to your soft tummy.

He planted a kiss there, before he slowly but surely slipped off your shorts. You woke up right as he gave your pussy a curious lick, your mouth being covered before you could scream.

Was this it? Was he finally showing his true colors and ready to devour you whole. You squeezed your eyes shut, ready to feel the pain of his teeth on your body, but instead felt soft lips on your clit.

When you peeked at him, he looked up eagerly, as if waiting for you to teach and guide him through this. He wasn’t trying to hurt you… he was just curious.

You whined softly, slowly moving his head and hiding his tongue to your hole, letting out a breathy sigh as he slipped his tongue in. It felt so damn good, you were close to cumming already.

Not understanding that your orgasm was close, he pulled away right before you could cum, his lips glazed over with your juices and his eyes wide with excitement. “D-did I do good?”

You groaned in frustration, grabbing him by the hair and guiding him back, finally riding out your high on his tongue.

He seemed eager to please, and just so curious about your body… after you were done, he sat on your bed and played with your hair, watching over you as you drifted off.

When you woke up, he was gone again. The lovely was sitting on your nightstand, and when you sat up and yawned, he appeared.

He was a bit shy from your encounter last night, holding a few flowers in his hand. After you put them in a vase, you realized that they were stolen from your neighbor’s lawn… but the effort was still cute.

That day, he followed you around while you completed your chores, giving you a dopey smile and causing minor accidents for whatever poor soul dared to approach you.

He was getting more possessive by the day, disliking when any male spoke to you for longer than a few seconds. You were his, didn’t they understand that!?

When someone walked by you, a flower pot would fall into their feet or a rock would move to trip them.

It was confusing, seeing all these people end up hurt or hospitalized all the time. You wondered if you might be cursed…

You were chatting with a handsome barista when the coffee pot next to him suddenly tipped over, spilling boiling coffee all over him.

“A-are you okay!?”

While trying to help him, suddenly he slipped on a puddle of water that hadn’t been there before.

Your ghost friend stayed invisible, pouring a cup of water on the floor just moments before…

After multiple tests, you realized you were the only one that could see the ghost. You weren’t sure if he was brought on by some kind of stress from working so hard or perhaps you really were being haunted. Either way, you could never tell anyone about him. People would think you were crazy, and you didn’t want to get locked away in an asylum forever.

But strangely, your little ghost friend wasn’t that bad of a houseguest. He never made a mess, watched over you while you slept, and even when there were some break ins next door, you were the only one spared.

He really was protecting you.

“I’m… going out today.”

You looked up from your breakfast, watching as your ghost roommate materialized in front of you. Going out? He was always by your side…

“Really? Are you like… moving on to the next plain of existence or something?”

He chuckled, leaning against the wall. “Am I that annoying, hmm? No, I’ve just got some business to attend to.”

He smiled, ruffling your hair affectionately before fading away into nothing, leaving you to wonder what a ghost would do for business.

The ghost stood over another corpse, his body free of blood due to his incorporable form. It was one of the girls who had been planning to humiliate you.

Her jaw was ripped from its socket, tangling from her disfigured face. He glanced down at her phone, picking it up and looking over the contacts.

The leader on his list… and he was saving her for last.

The news of the sorority murders had the entire campus paranoid. Police suspected a serial killer was on the loose and targeting young girls in the sorority, so you found yourself at the station, being questioned during a quiet October day.

“And that was the last time you saw her?” asked the officer, holding up a picture of the latest victim.

You gave him a nod, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Yes… I hope my information can be useful, have you gotten any leads yet?”

“That information is confidential, ma’am, but rest assured we’ll catch the sick son of a bitch responsible for this.”

You were driven home by one of the officers, and walked in feeling exhausted. The entire week was weighing down on you, and you only felt safe when your ghost roommate greeted you.

“Welcome home…” he murmured, reaching forward to gently caress your cheek. “You’ve been crying… did someone hurt you?”

The way he asked sent a shiver down your spine. “No… it’s just…”

You sat down, his fingers rubbing circles into your back as you spoke. “All of my friends have been killed… and I don’t know what to do…”

You couldn’t see the smirk on his face, but you felt the way his grip tightened on your hips, rocking them slightly. “It’s sad, but you have me, love. That’s all you need…”

Before you could speak, he had you laying on your back, his hands pinning down your wrists. “Those friends weren’t good people, love… I can protect you, take care of you. Provide for you…”

His fingers traced down your body, to your belly. The ache in his gut returned, and his mind was filled with images of your belly swelling up, being heavy and full with his baby… would it matter that your friends were dead when you were waddling around, pregnant and happy?

You whimpered softly, feeling his teeth graze your neck as he palmed his erection. “I realized… that I really love you. That day you picked up my locket… was basically our wedding day.”

His lips crashed into yours, teeth and tongues clashing as the kiss became rough and passionate. These last few weeks had been torture, watching you speak to other people, having to be away from you for even a second was the worst.

“M-Mmph!”

You were getting wet from all this attention, your body feeling warm as he stripped you of your clothes. But you felt guilty, here you were making out with a ghost while your friends were dead and/or in danger!

“N-not now-“

You yelped, his fingers pressing against the wet fabric of your panties. Already you were soaking wet, your face heating up in shame.

“Not now? But you’re so wet… you want this, you know you do…”

Your whines and protest went unheard as he slipped his fingers into your cunt, and no matter how much you squirmed he kept you still as he lapped softly at your clit.

“Pretty girl, that feels good, doesn’t it?”

You came on his tongue and fingers several times, your hole clenching around nothing as he sucked on your clit, his hands keeping your thighs spread open.

“You want me to fuck you, hmm? Wanna feel my cum fill you all the way up?”

You let out a pathetic whine as he rubbed his tip against your wet cunt, your eyes full of pleasured tears. The man wasn’t sure he could get you pregnant, he was a ghost after all, but god damn it he was going to try his best!

The feeling of him slowly pushing into your virgin hole was… strange. Painful, a stretch that you had never felt before, yet oddly… a sense of pleasure began to set in as he bottomed out.

He cooed softly, his hand moving over your soft belly, his eyes on your pretty cunt as it took his cock. “That’s my good girl…”

He started slow, not wanting to hurt his darling. Thrusting in and out, almost agonizing in the way his cock moved inside of your gummy walls.

Soon he couldn’t take it, the need to breed his lovely darling taking over. He pushed your legs up, beginning to fuck you in a mating press as his lips met yours.

“F-fuck, that’s it… take it, let me knock you up…”

He was desperate, almost like a wild animal, and determined to get you pregnant. He didn’t care if he was a ghost or not, he was planting his seed in your belly.

A family with you was all he could ever want, getting to see you hold his little one in your arms and waddle around with a cute pregnant belly… just the thought of being the one to knock you up had him spurting out thick, ectoplasm like cum into your womb.

“C-can’t get pregnant!” you whimpered out, wiggling nervously. “Gotta finish college…”

“Quiet, darling…”

He panted softly, looking down at you for a moment as his hips continued to fit into yours. You looked beautiful now, with your face flushed and eyes hazy from pleasure. If he could, he’d take a picture so he could always remember you in this state of utter bliss.

“I’ll take care of everything, don’t worry your pretty little head…”

Even after finishing inside of you again, your ghost lover wasn’t quite done with you. He stood, holding you up in a full Nelson while fucking into you. Your belly was starting to distend, so full of his cum that your pussy drooled.

Your neck was sensitive from all the hickeys he had left, and you could barely think while his cock pushed in as deep as it could go, kissing your cervix. He had you look down and watch as his cock moved in and out of your, your pretty pussy clenching around him in yet another orgasm.

“A-Ah!”

Soft whines and whimpers left your throat. It couldn’t be helped, there was a bulge in your tummy now, his cum had stuffed you full. “C-can’t… take anymore…”

He kissed your neck, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. “Just a little more, darling… shh, just take it…”

He rubbed your clit, cooing at you like you were a toddler throwing a tantrum. Your leg twitched with the sudden stimulation he was giving your clit, and you can again, your body sore from the multiple orgasms you’ve already had.

The love making lasted long into the night, and you found yourself passing out after cumming nearly 10 times…

But your lover’s night was far from over. After cleaning you up a little and placing a blanket over your naked form so you wouldn’t catch a cold, he set out to see to his unfinished business…

The leader was terrified, holed up in her bedroom alone as her father patrolled the house. Everyone else in her friend group was dead, leaving her the final girl on his list.

He watched her from the window, smirking as her father walked around, oblivious to the danger his snot nosed brat was in.

She got up, sighing. “That creep won’t get past dad. I bet that stupid girl has something to do with this. Even if she doesn’t, if I say the word she’ll be sent to prison.”

The ghost sneered at her words. She really planned to send his innocent lover to prison? Any hesitation he may have had was gone instantly.

He followed her to the bathroom, frowning in disgust as she disrobed. She was nowhere near as gorgeous as you were, he simply wasn’t interested in any other woman than you.

“Ahh…”

Once she settled into the bath, he took his chance and started to cause the light to flicker. This caused her to jump, nearly slipping on the slick bottom of the tub.

“H-hello?”

A soft whisper in her ear made her turn, her eyes wide with terror. “I-if there’s anyone here, you better go before my dad sees you! He’s the sheriff and if I scream-“

“He won’t be able to hear you.”

Hands wrapped around her throat, restricting her air flow. Suddenly she was able to see him, his appearance that of what he looked like when he died.

His black hair was stringy, his clothes ripped and torso torn apart to reveal his rotting organs.

“You should have been more careful. You messed with someone I love, and for that, you’ll pay with your life.”

Unable to scream, her vision went black, and her body limp. He let her sink into the tub, a few bubbles escaping before the bubbles stopped.

In a flash, he was back to his handsome self, a smile on his lips. “My darling is free now…”

You woke up to your TV being switched on, the news reporter staring into the camera with a sorrowful gaze. “Another girl from the local sorority has been killed. While police investigated the premises, they found multiple books full of images of other girls forced into humiliation ritual, along with evidence of her father, the sheriff, helping her cover her crimes up. He is on paid le-“

You shut off the TV, feeling both relieved you hadn’t attended that party, and sad that she died. She wasn’t a good person, you knew that, but you were, and it hurt your heart to see someone die so young.

“Hello, my darling…”

You felt a cold hand brush against your belly. There was still a bulge there from all the cum that had been stuffed into you the night before.

“Sleep well, my darling?”

The ghost kissed your temple, nuzzling against you. “I guess… I’m still pretty tired though.”

He moved to gently massage your sore spots, eyes fixed on your tummy. “Sorry, I think I may have gotten… carried away.”

His grip on you tightened, and the air felt a little colder. “You understand that you’re mine, correct? That moment you picked up that locket, we were tied together for eternity. You can’t get rid of me, I’ll always return to you…”

His fingers dug into your flesh. “And if you want your future to be a happy one, you’ll learn to accept things. I don’t want to hurt my precious one, after all… not like those other girls.”

It didn’t look like you had much of a choice in the matter. You could either accept that this was your life now, or end up like the sorority girls. Little did you know he was bluffing a bit. He would never actually harm you, but he wasn’t against scaring you into thinking he would.

As the years passed by, you got used to your life with him. He was much too possessive for you to go out and see people other than your family, meaning you had to give up college or see people get hurt on your behalf.

But lately he’s calmed down a little… since he’s a father now.

He smiled as you walked down the street, holding your 3 year old’s hand. Your little one was a curious thing, loving to go to the park and take walks in the woods near your home.

As you walked down the path, an elderly couple stopped you to coo at your son. You glanced at your now husband to gauge his expression, and he seemed to be okay with it.

“Oh, how cute!”

“Thank you,” you replied with a smile. “He looks just like his father.”

As you walked home, your little one disappeared from the sight of other mortals, hovering in the air with your husband. He was half ghost after all, it made sense he could do things other kids couldn’t.

Your lover smiled softly, his hand moving over your belly as he watched your son chase a butterfly.

“… about time for our second little one, isn’t it?”

Looks like you were in for another passionate night.

————————

YANDERE TAGLIST: @katerinaval @sunset-214 @avalordream @atransmuter @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @sandramalikstyles-blog @anonymouskiwi @pedropascalbabygirl @flamefoxx @swasti8854 @an-ever-angry-bi

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dissolved-g1rl · 1 month ago

Note

What if buck got a bit self conscious about being way older than the reader, like probably in the early stages of their relationship

Bc maybe someone told him or he overheard something at a bar bc they were hanging out there?

I just want to comfort my boy

imagine me & you ♡

He has his arm around your shoulder, gently running cool metal down your arm as you babble on about something about your stubborn professor who isn’t replying to your e-mails. “Mhm” he hums nodding along in agreement with your complaints. You bat your eyelashes at him, pouting, “You’re not even listening!” you grumble, the little furrow appears when you knit your brows. “Yes I am!” Bucky denies, using his thumb to smooth the little wrinkle. “What’d I just say?” You say lulling your head back. He cups the back of your head, pressing a kiss to you lips till that cute pout he loves is smothered away. “That you need another beer.” He says pulling away

He smiles when you push him towards the bar. He pads over, it’s pretty noisy, a big game going on at a local university. Guys and girls gearing more towards your age make the bar lively. He taps his fingers against the bar, ordering two more beers for the two of you. Two girls wearing sparkly shirts, a sorority he guesses, whisper to one another, cupping around their mouths and giggling—“old enough to be her dad.” he catches. He feels hot under the collar with embarrassment. Great, great, great granddad actually, yet he digresses. He thinks for a centurion he looks pretty good. Sure, he won’t always get your references, but he’s only old by logic. He’s got all the bells and whistles, gets it up just fine—maybe too easy. He’s got some stray grays, you and your drooly cunt like ‘em just fine. And sure, he’s put on a little bit of weight over the years, he doesn’t mind. Despite this, that hot feeling of embarrassment still weighs heavily on his heart. You could do better. Better than a man who has to check his sperm count annually, better than a man who still writes everything in cursive, better than a man who has more years behind him than in front. The clink of glass against the bar redirects his attention, right, beer.

He hands you your beer, you still crinkle your nose when you drink—he used to find it cute. He’s starkly reminded of the fact that you are not used to drinking yet. He sighs, smoothing the frizz in your hair. You raise your brow, patting his leg. “Something wrong?” You ask, tracing a heart onto his knee. He smiles, a bit tight lipped. “Nothin’s wrong baby.” Bucky denies pinching your cheek till you bat his hand away. “Yeah right, you big grump!” You say, draping your arm around his shoulders, shifting till you’re settled onto his lap. Your weight on top of him is a welcomed pressure, he wraps his arms around your middle, peppering your nape in kisses. People cheer, touchdown or something. He thinks it’ll be fine —you and him. He doesn’t have that much to teach you, not really, but you sure do teach him a lot of things everyday. He’ll have you for as long as you have him. Bucky hopes for forever. “Love you.” He chimes, just to you, it’s intimate. Secluded by the booth, yet liveliness surrounds you. “I love you too Buck!” You reply easily, you mean it—showing him your pretty smile that makes him almost queasy with how sweet you look. The three words soothe his worries, thats right, you love him, and he loves you.

credit to @cursed-carmine for dividers

a/n: not proof read, sowwy for any mistakes

#bucky barns x fem reader #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barns #anon ask #thanks anon!#.☘︎ ݁˖#anon

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freakmcnastyy · 1 month ago

Text

Try again when you're legal

Geum Seongjae x f!eader (fluff, one-shot)

Summary: First-year Seongjae catches feelings for an upperclassman.

Note: anon request! hope you like itt 🥹

⸻

Seongjae’s name wasn’t just known at your school — it was whispered about in every nearby high school. Everyone talked about him, but no one dared to say his name out loud. They just called him that kid.

Ever since the start of freshman year, rumors said he didn’t give a damn about anyone. If someone looked at him wrong? Hospital. Even the teachers stayed out of his way. The principal? Looked the other way and kept walking. Everyone knew he was in some gang called Union. Some even said he ran the damn thing.

⸻

One day, he saw you.

The bell had just rung, everyone scattering to class, and you were leaning against the wall, face buried in your phone. Your skirt had ridden up a bit, sleeves rolled to your elbows. He looked at you — not in some obvious, horny-ass way — but lowkey. Quiet. Focused.

It was the first time he went silent.

The first time he stared at someone like that.

He didn’t know what it meant.

“Upperclassman, huh? Even better,” he thought.

Because something about your resting bitch face and that bored, smug look in your eyes? Yeah, it fired him up.

But maybe it wasn’t even about you, maybe he just wanted to win. To break whatever wall you built around yourself.

⸻

The cafeteria was loud as hell. Chairs scraping, trays slamming, people yelling.

You were sitting alone in the back, quietly eating with one eye on your study notes. Until someone dropped into the seat across from you.

“Yo, pretty. What’re we eatin’ today? Y/N, right?”

You looked up. Three boys. The one in front — Seongjae. Of course you knew him. Everyone did. But this was the first time you saw him this up close.

You gave him a glare. “What do you want, brat?”

One of his friends laughed. “Damn, noona’s got bite.”

Seongjae didn’t even flinch. If anything, he looked like he was enjoying it. He leaned in, resting his arm on the table.

“You know, girls like you are rare in my year. You’re kinda a gem.”

You put your chopstick down, fully turning to him. “Did you fall on your head as a kid or something?”

The table laughed, but Seongjae went serious for a second, locking eyes with you.

Then came the grin. That stupid cocky grin.

“This is gonna be fun.”

⸻

During cleanup duty, the school split students across the building. You got stuck restocking the chem lab alone. The sun was setting, casting everything in a weird, soft glow.

You stretched up on your toes, trying to reach some heavy-ass chemical box on the top shelf, cursing under your breath.

“Who the hell designs shelves like this—”

Suddenly, someone reached past you. No noise, no warning. Just a calm, smooth hand grabbing the box.

Seongjae.

You turned.

He’d taken off his blazer, shirt slightly undone, hair a little messy.

He handed it over.

“You again?” you muttered.

“Mm-hmm. Miss me?”

“Didn’t even think of you.”

“That’s cold. Thought we had something special after the cafeteria.”

“You annoyed the shit outta me.”

He pouted like a toddler. “When are you gonna start missing me? Just curious.”

“When you disappear. Maybe.”

“Damn. That’s tough. Guess you’ll never get the chance — ‘cause letting you be? Not in my plans.”

You paused.

But only for a second. You bounced back quick.

“Back off. I’m cleaning.”

“I get it. Not easy, adjusting. To me.”

You gave him a look and for the first time, he was talking with no jokes, no bullshit. Just calm. Kinda sincere.

It was weird.

But, of course, he ruined it a second later.

“Though honestly, the way your back arched when you reached up? Jesus.”

“Hey!”

He laughed. Loud. Shameless.

“Okay okay, I’m done.”

You turned back to the shelf, and he headed to the door. But right before leaving, he tossed a line over his shoulder:

“But don't forget. Once I bite, I don't let go.”

And he was gone.

You stayed there, alone with your thoughts, cursing the fact that your heart was actually beating faster.

⸻

Rumors exploded.

At first it was just whispers — girls giggling in the halls. “Did you hear that crazy first-year has a thing for an upperclassman?” “Who?” they’d ask, and when your name dropped, jaws dropped too.

You — the cold, untouchable one. Him — a literal menace. Together? Unreal.

But it wasn’t just talk anymore. Every damn day in the cafeteria, in the halls, people saw it. Saw him trailing you like a puppy. Saw how you didn’t exactly shut him down anymore.

Some said, “It’s cute.”

Some said, “If she falls for him, I’m done respecting her.”

He was obsessed. And everyone knew it.

The kid who beat the shit out of people for looking at him the wrong way… was simping. Hard.

And people started asking:

“Wait… is this serious?”

⸻

One day after school.

Sun low, air cool. You had your earphones in, walking home, zoning out.

Until someone jumped on your back.

“Yo, gorgeous! Gimme a piggyback ride!”

You didn’t even flinch. Just glanced over your shoulder. “Get off, idiot.”

“Nah, I’m comfy.”

He slid down and started walking beside you, hands in his pockets, chill as ever — but still stealing glances at you like you were some rare art piece.

“You look extra sexy today. I’ve said that how many times now? I’ve lost count.”

You smiled. Barely. But he noticed.

“Wait. You smiled. You’re falling for me, aren’t you?”

You turned to him. “Try again when you're legal.”

“Daaamn, was that a wink?”

“My eye twitched from stress, dumbass.”

He laughed that stupid laugh again.

And this time, as you kept walking, you didn’t look so pissed off.

⸻

The library was dead silent.

You were browsing books, fingers brushing titles — and you heard his footsteps before you saw him.

“Hmm… think they got anything like How to Make Her Fall in Love With You?”

You didn’t even look. “What do you want now, Seongjae?”

“You.”

You grabbed a book off the shelf and turned. “I’m sick of you.”

He leaned against the end of the aisle, tilting his head. “Nah. You’re having fun.”

“When are you gonna stop?”

“When you love me.”

“Never.”

He smirked. “Y/N"

"What?"

"if I started hanging out with some other girl… would you get jealous?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

You turned away, walking. But he followed, same pace, same breath. Like a shadow that refused to leave.

⸻

Another day, after class, you stayed back. A guy from your grade — Jiwon — asked about something. Homework, test stuff. It turned into a light chat. He smiled. You smiled back, politely.

Normal.

But not for the eyes watching from the hallway.

Seongjae was watching. He was standing in the doorway, his fists clenched, his jaw clenched. When Jiwon made you laugh, something snapped.

He left. Without a word.

⸻

Later, Jiwon was in the back garden, smoking.

Seongjae showed up. Quiet as hell. No warning.

Jiwon barely had time to react.

“You saw me in the doorway and still had the courage to keep talking?”

Jiwon shrugged. “We were just talking, bro.”

“You’re not gonna talk to her. Not look at her. Not stand near her.”

Jiwon backed up. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Chill the fuck out.”

Then came the punch.

Hard.

Jiwon hit the ground.

Seongjae stood over him, eyes cold. “That girl’s mine. She just doesn’t know it yet. But she will. Touch her again, and I swear I’ll kill you.”

And he walked away.

⸻

Next day, the whole school was buzzing.

“He beat up Jiwon.”

“For that girl.”

“You know her?”

They did.

Girls whispered in the bathroom.

“He said, ‘Come near her again and I’ll end you.’ Like… full psycho vibes.”

“But like… kinda hot?”

“You think that’s hot?! He’s nuts.”

But in the mirror… you saw something else.

Your own face.

And a smile you didn’t mean to make.

“Did I… actually like that?”

You tried to push it away. That’s toxic. That’s insane. He’s aggressive. Violent. Possessive.

But…

He beat someone just for talking to you.

And it felt…

Kinda good.

“Am I sick in the head?” Yeah. 100%.

And that’s when you knew — somewhere in his obsession, there was something that wrapped around you like armor. Maybe it was messed up.

But it was real.

⸻

Cafeteria.

This time, you made the move. Grabbed your tray, scanned the room, found him. Same as always — chill, laid-back, surrounded by friends. You walked straight up.

His friends froze.

You didn’t.

“I’m sitting here.”

Seongjae grinned. “Welcome.”

You didn’t touch your food. Just stared at him.

“I heard what you did.”

He raised a brow. Not even pretending to be innocent.

“Which part?”

“You punched that guy.”

“He was talking to you.”

“It was about class.”

“I don't care.”

You laughed. Actually laughed. That unhinged grin of his met yours.

“Did it turn you on?”

You stared into his eyes. "That was the hottest thing a guy ever done for me."

He paused.

Then smirked.

You both grinned.

There was no fight, no chaos. Not right then.

But the war between you?

Already raging.

⸻

A week passed. Now you both were sitting together outside in the yard. To anyone watching, it was surreal. You — the quiet, always reserved girl — were sitting next to the most dangerous boy in the first grade. And not intimidated or withdrawn. You were relaxed. Even… Comfortable.

He handed you his juice.

“Mango. Try it. It’s fire.”

“Disgusting.”

“So we don’t share, huh?”

He slung his arm around your shoulders.

You didn’t move. At first. Then shrugged lightly. But didn’t say anything.

“That bothering you?”

“Not sure. Probably not.”

He laughed. Pulled you a little closer.

“Admit it. You’re falling for me.”

You smiled.

Didn’t say no.

#weak hero kdrama #weak hero x reader #geum seong je #geum seong je x reader #lee jun young #weak hero class 1 #geum seongje scenario #weak hero class 2 x reader #weak hero class 2 #wolf keum #whc1 #whc2 x reader #whc2

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jjjjisun · 3 months ago

Text

The Concert

Eunha X Male Reader | 11571 words

TW: Incest

—

"See ya mom!" my little sister Eunha shouted as she headed out the door.

She was going to her friend Umji's for a sleepover or something. If you asked me, the little denim skirt she was wearing under her poor-attempt-to-cover-it jacket said Umji's parents probably weren't home and it probably wasn't going to be just her and the other girls. More likely it would involve as much booze as high school kids could get their hands on and a bunch of horny teenagers leering at my little sister's outfit. I cringed at the thought, but she'd gotten past my parents so... whatever, I wasn't going to cause trouble.

Truthfully, I wasn't being completely honest with my parents either. Then again, they wouldn't get nearly as upset with me if I wasn't telling the truth as Eunha. I was in college and she was in high school. After all the shit I'd pulled in my senior year, my little sis was unlikely to get away with anything. She was lucky to sneak by without them seeing what she was wearing as she walked out the door. Her bare legs weren't exactly easy to miss.

It wasn't the first time either. Only two weeks ago I'd found Eunha passed out on the back stoop to our house. Obviously she knew some of the same tricks as I; if you were just quiet enough when opening the back door you could avoid walking past our parents' room on the way to your own after curfew.

I was on my way in and there was my little sis "sleeping" with her head against the post as if she'd just decided to take a seat on the way in, or so she told me when I shook her awake. But before I did... well I couldn't just un-see what she was wearing; besides, I hadn't the wits to complain. A little skirt that was fanned out where she sat, a snug cotton tank top that's black in color complemented her skin perfectly... she looked cute. I remember thinking then that if she was just another girl at the party I was coming from I probably would have tried to take her home.

That night she had gotten a little too drunk and walked home; she needed every bit of the support I offered as I took her upstairs to bed. Though that night was no different than the two or three times before when I'd found her in a similar state, I hoped she would finally take my advice not to come home so drunk again. Maybe next time I wouldn't be there to sling her over my shoulder on the way up the stairs. And I don't know many guys who would have covered her up so our parents didn't see her clothes all bunched around her chest and waist after I'd dropped her drunken self on the bed.

I think she knew I had done it, because she was especially nice to me that next day. I guess we understood each other better than I thought sometimes. It was probably the same reason that we exchanged that glance of knowing when we heard each other's answers to the question "what are your plans tonight?" from our dad. Sure I had the brotherly instinct to be worried about her in that outfit she couldn't quite hide under her coat. But I wouldn't stand in her way I was sure she'd be smart... enough.

And that was pretty much the last thought I had of her after I walked out the door. I took my truck over to my friend Minho's where we were meeting a few more friends. Minho had gotten us four tickets to an outdoor concert and our other three friends were going to try and sneak in - it wasn't too hard anyway. As soon as we were all loaded in the cab and truck bed both, a couple of cases of beer tucked between legs, we took off to a place a few miles outside the city.

When we got there of course the drinking started. there was more booze than I thought; I knew I'd have to leave my car behind. We all agreed to meet back at Mina's house where apparently nobody was home and then it was off to the front gate. Mina's friend Momo had caught my eye so I made sure to be near her when we went past the gate and inevitably lost a few stragglers. Momo was a tiny brunette with way bigger tits than I would have expected - probably due to a helpful bra. Her cute face didn't hurt but damn... I wondered if she had caught me staring one of the few times I couldn't take my eyes off her chest.

But once I got in... whoa... I didn't worry too much that Momo would be my go-to girl for the night because there were thousands of others. Hundreds...thousands, well I guess I am not great at approximating numbers but the venue was probably bigger than a football field in total. I saw the back fence where my friends would likely try and get in and headed to it.

"You jerk..." I heard from the bushes while standing there flirting with Momo.

It was Mina followed by a smiling Sung, the most drunk of our bunch that night, and I could tell he had just smacked her bare leg and probably a good handful of her ass. I couldn't help but laugh and neither could Momo. She put a hand on my arm and leaned in. I had to admit, she was pretty hot compared to a lot of the girls there; maybe I wouldn't have to even try that hard.

We all got together and stood in-line for a beer while I admired Momo and the other girls walking around in all manner of outfits and some in practically nothing at all. The music we were seeing was heavily electronic so from my little experience I knew this would be nothing short of a rave. I was starting to feel pretty dazed and that's probably why I was getting handsy with Momo.

By the time the music had started I'd lost count of my beer intake. I was holding her and Momo was rubbing against me. There really isn't a better feeling than the rumble of bass deep in your chest and the warm skin of a pretty girl close to you. Especially when she's feeling the same warm tingling that was pulling me closer to her.

At some point, I don't know when, we got separated. Perhaps it was the tan-skinned exotic looking girl who was leaning back with her hand caressing my neck. I looked down and she was wearing a top with fabric that crisscrossed her body so her sides were left bare. Her abdomen was just as tan as the rest of her and from the times she looked back at me I could see her eyes were no less alluring.

I think we made out for some time, but after talking to her for only a moment or so I realized, unfortunately, that she was either too dim-witted or too drunk to pass for more than a good-looking dance partner. The music was phenomenal, I was just the right amount of drunk, and I was flitting around from girl to girl and dancing like a fool. I was having a better time than I could have hoped for and even more so when I finally found my group of friends again. I remember thinking we should go to concerts like that more often when a really popular song came on and we started rough-housing and hollering as it began.

In the middle of the song there was a sudden jolt in the tempo and we were jumping up and down to the beat. I looked back. The crowd was jumping too, waves rippling back over the ocean of fans. Colored lights panned this way and that with the music, the beat of drums being absorbed by a dense blanket of people.

I was jumping and fist-pumping and doing all of the dumb stuff that seemed to be perfectly acceptable in that moment. Once I jumped and caught a glimpse of a guy crowd surfing. Again I jumped and saw the huge cloud of smoke that was hovering over the crowd. Once more and I caught a glimpse of what had to be the least dressed girl at the party. Naturally, I looked for her again.

Her whole back was bare, and it was all I could see of her through the throngs of people between us. I couldn't be sure but naturally I hoped her front was bare as well. She was jumping around wildly like me, and when she somewhat turned my way once or twice I could see she definitely wasn't wearing anything to support her breasts. They weren't huge, but from the side they looked like a nice little handful. It wasn't the first shirtless girl at the concert but usually the topless girls weren't the best to look at. This one had a toned little body and she looked like she knew how to use it.

I wandered forward without saying anything to my friends. A pang of guilt struck me for ditching them after we'd spent half the concert looking for each other, but I had to get closer to this girl. It was denser the closer I got to her. Not only was she farther up but it seemed like many of the guys around had the same idea as me. I pretended like I was pushing through to find my friends; that always seemed to work. All I ever got was the occasional grunt or mutter of frustration. I am a pretty decent sized guy so most people avoid conflict with me, I suppose.

I was about ten feet from her and my heart started to pound. I realized I was nervous. Something about the way this girl wasn't letting any of her leering onlookers near and seemed to be totally in her own world had me breathing fast and wondering what I would say. I watched her bob her head side to side, extend her arms up in the air and sway with the droning music the band was striking up in that moment.

The closer I got the better she looked... or maybe that was just the booze. When she turned to the side I saw a purple butterfly sticker over her nipple. Holy crap was that hot. It was almost as if seeing so much of her and yet being denied her fully naked form made me want her ten times more. The guts on this girl to wear so little to a concert that was sure to be full of young men with low morals... I resolved to take a shot.

I could see she had dirty pink hair now, and the only thing she seemed to have on besides two butterfly stickers was a short denim skirt. It wasn't unlike the one my little sister was hiding on her way out the door. I guess both of these girls knew how to get attention, though I hoped nobody had ever seen my Eunha without a top on, or so my protective instinct cautioned me. I finally made it close enough to make a move on the cutie, but not without a strong shoulder from a guy in a polo slightly larger than me. He yelled something and though I tried to ignore and walk past, I guess he wasn't pleased that I was getting between him and the nearly naked cutie. He grabbed my shoulder...

"Hey asshole!" he shouted and spun me his way.

I looked at him and tensed, wondering if I was going to have to defend myself or throw a punch.

"Relax man," I said, "I'm just looking for somebody."

"Fuck you!" he responded unreasonably, "you're just trying to get to the front!"

Usually, that would be true, but this time I was just trying to get near the most intoxicating girl I'd seen at the show. I readied myself to fight when I heard a voice behind me:

"OPPA!?"

The big guy's eyes darted over my shoulder. My fists were clenched and my already pounding heart had converted my nervous energy to adrenaline... yet the voice caught me off guard. The wide-eyed goon's gaze convinced me it was safe to turn around. And that's when I saw her.

denim skirt, some streaks of body paint across her abdomen and the two butterfly pasties I'd seen before were all there. The phenomenal body, perfect, firm breasts and adorable face I'd seen before too... on my little sister Eunha.

How could I not have seen? How didn't I know from the second I'd seen the familiar skirt? Why had my brain begged me to get closer to her when I must have known, subconsciously even, that this moment would come?

"Oppa!" she shouted again and then ran toward me. Her perfect little breasts jiggled as she pumped her legs and then jumped right at me. I caught her just in time, and it turned me toward the guy who had picked a fight. He glared, but it didn't seem he was going to interrupt us.

I could feel Eunha's tits pressed against my chest, and her toned legs firmly holding her in place. I was confused, a large part of me unwilling to let go of that magnetic pull that had drawn me to her. My little sister was practically naked in my arms and everyone around who had been staring at her for however long was watching us. Nobody could know who she was to me, or so I hoped. My eyes quickly scanned the crowd to see if any of our friends were watching. Her cheer friends were happily distracted near the front of the stage and there was at least a few hundred people between us and my group. I dared take my eyes off the crowd and look Eunha in the eye.

"Hey big bro," she said, still hanging on me like a monkey.

"Hey troublemaker." I said.

She smiled, a big, toothy grin, the way I always loved. Her gaze was a little friendly for a sister, as if the fact that her boobs were squished between us and our hips were locked together wasn't enough. I might have wondered where that was coming from, but I could smell whatever fruity vodka drink she'd had plenty of on her lips.

"YOU LIED!" Eunha pulled back while still seated in my arms and said loudly over the noise. "YOU told mom and dad that you were going to Minho's!"

"Oh yeah?" I asked, "and what about you?"

She scoffed, "what about ME?"

"I thought you were going to Umji's to practice some new cheer and sleep over?"

Eunha snickered guiltily. "Well, maybe I lied a little... you won't tell will you?"

"It depends," I threatened emptily.

Eunha was obviously one of those adorable drunks; I could hear it from the sing-songy inflection in her voice. But if you asked me she should not have been any kind of drunk with the hungry eyes I had seen fixed on her. Once again, maybe it was brotherly instinct or maybe I just knew what those guys were thinking.

I looked again at my little sister in my arms. I didn't know what to think. After all, I had come to her with much different intentions. She was still the same girl who'd just about stopped my heart when I saw her only from the side. Yes, I could see her flexing and moving her hips when I got close enough and her bare back was what had initially caught my eye. Her appearance had captured my attention, but her presence had drawn me in.

I wondered what our parents would think. Set aside Eunha's utter state of undress, and both of our irresponsible intoxication. What would they say if they saw Eunha wrapped around her brother with her teenage chest and tiny hips held tight to me. What would they say if they saw her moving up and down to the beat of the music, causing her to rub up against my already confused manhood... wait...?

She WAS doing it. Whether intentionally or not, that little minx... she was bouncing herself rhythmically and it was simply not the kind of contact a little sister should be making with her brother. She had to know... but as I looked at her again and saw that carefree smile and open mouth yelling out to the band, I knew I couldn't hold it against her.

I also knew I couldn't hold IT against her either. I was reacting to her attentions in a way that made me all the more conflicted. I lifted Eunha from me, quite easily except when she fought to hold on to me. I always loved her playfulness.

When I set her down again I was treated to another uninhibited look at her beautiful body. My little sister's tits or not, my hands struggled to stay at my sides and not reach out and touch the perky mounds that sagged not an inch on her chest. And those stickers, those fucking butterfly stickers... There was something so appealing about them - a childish and playful symbol that decorated my seductive and naughty little sister.

"You don't approve..." she said with a frown. Eunha must have caught me looking her up and down.

I used it as another excuse to gaze. Her tight tummy was streaked with paint like somebody had grabbed for her. I burned inside thinking it might have been some asshole in the crowd.

"What do you want me to say?" She had turned around now and was looking at the band while talking to me over her shoulder. Her cute butt was no less provoking; it sat proudly under a skirt that was too short to wear anywhere in my opinion.

She turned and her fingers grazed my face, just like the girl before had. I shivered at her touch; I wasn't supposed to like her doing that. "I dono..." she replied coyly. "Tell me I'm pretty at least..."

She turned again and bit her lower lip. GOD she was either a brilliant or totally natural seductress. I would tell her anything at that point.

But I still managed to hold back. "Well yea you're pretty..." I told her. I had to blink off the surging/tingling feeling of the alcohol as I tried to finish my thought. "...I just don't like all these guys staring at you."

I looked around. Maybe I was overreacting.

"Well now that my big brother is here, I think you can stop worrying." I felt her butt brush against me while she was dancing. She grabbed my arm and slung it around her. I could feel her naked front warm against my forearm.

"Shouldn't you be with some girl or something, not hanging with your little sister?" Eunha teased.

"Uh uh, now that I've found you, I'm not taking my eyes off you!" I replied quickly.

Eunha smiled and pressed her head against my shoulder, flattered. I hadn't meant it like that...

"That's not what I meant... I'm just saying..."

She turned away, seemingly pleased enough with the compliment I'd unintentionally paid her. I gave up, frustrated with her and simultaneously disarmed by her confidence.

"What about you Ms. butterflies?" She let out an incredulous 'uh!' like I'd somehow offended her by acknowledging it. "I'm surprised you haven't chosen one of your many admirers."

She was quick to respond too, "Well I'm with you aren't I?"

She looked me in the eye for a few seconds, and before I could say anything she turned back around. I would have argued, I should have, but it was true. She couldn't have known how I'd found her but I was guilty nonetheless. Eunha was by far the most interesting girl I'd come across the whole night, among thousands.

I couldn't keep my composure for too long either. I was still plenty drunk and so was she. After a minute or two of inner conflict and debating whether I should take Eunha home, leave her by herself or stay there with my scantily clad little sis, the music chose for me.

I really did love this band, and before I knew it I was dancing around just like before. This time, however, I was finally with a girl I actually wanted to be around. She was holding my arm, spinning around and I was enjoying watching her have a good time. Heck, I was having a great time myself, slowly forgetting to be careful with my hands... and my eyes with my newfound dance-partner.

I got somewhat lost in it all. Eunha was so gorgeous, and the music so entrancing... when I look back I remember my hands on her hips, running daringly up her side. I remember feeling her backside nudging against my front and the swelling it caused in my jeans. People were looking at us now and again, but nobody knew our secret. There was an attraction there that shouldn't have been, but it was ours and ours alone. I could dance with my little sister however I wanted, touch her wherever I wanted, and feel however I wanted. As long as she was by my side at this concert, nothing was forbidden.

Eunha stumbled once. I laughed at her and she feigned that she was upset. She even looked cute doing it. I worried for a moment that she might have been too drunk. Then she went back to dancing with me, leaning more heavily and being a little less inconspicuous about her affections. I felt her hands on mine. They guided me to her belly, where I could feel the feel the ridges of body-paint, the tautness of her skin, and even the dangly piercing that marked her belly-button.

She rolled her head back into me, with eyes mostly closed.

I had to act; I could have let this whole thing run its course and lead me wherever I was headed. But I knew where that would take me, and I was her older brother. I had a responsibility to Eunha and I was going to take care of her.

"It's time to go." I said, taking hold of her shoulders and saying into her ear.

"Mmmmh...okay." She said, standing up straighter and grinding her ass into me. I winced and breathed deeply.

Taking her hand I moved to our left. My car was somewhere parked out in the woods. We'd driven up close enough to hear the opener but off the beaten path to conceal the excessive drinking that usually took place before the concert. My friends wouldn't be coming back to the car, but I needed to take Eunha somewhere, if only to sleep it off.

I was determined as I began to weave through the crowd. I thought Eunha was going to just follow drunkenly along. She started to resist. 'What the heck!' I thought as I had to pull at her arm more firmly. I looked back and saw her brows furrowed and an angry glare.

I realized pretty quickly that my little sister had been acting a bit drunker than she actually was. Maybe she was using it as an excuse to be so carefree when we were dancing earlier. She hadn't resisted when we first left, but maybe she was expecting something else - not her brother chaperoning her to the car.

When we got clear of the densest part of the crowd I stopped and addressed my fuming little sister. What a sight she was: half-naked in denim and black and throwing a mini-tantrum. It was hard for me to stick to my purpose instead of acting on the urges I was feeling toward Eunha. I had to be the responsible one here, I didn't know just how much my little sister had to drink and how she was feeling about the way we were dancing earlier. I suspected she would have let it go further if I hadn't stopped.

"So...what..." Eunha said as she planted her feet and stared me down, "you're just gonna take me home and that's it?"

"No." I responded, "I was going to take you back to the truck and we can listen to the rest of the concert from there."

"Oh...okay." The corners of her mouth showed an embarrassed smile.

She took my hand, put it around her waist and walked, more amicably this time, side by side with me to the truck. It was getting a little colder now and I knew Eunha would be chilly, I could feel goosebumps on her bare skin. I pulled her tightly to me, my fingers pressing in to her warm, soft side.

When we finally got to my truck we were a ways from the crowd. The music still filled the empty woods around us and shafts of light penetrated the canopy of darkened treetops. It was an eerie place, made warm by the presence of Eunha at my side.

I hopped up into the truck bed and bent down to help my little sister up with me. Locking my hands under her arms I swiftly pulled her up and set her down in front of me. I couldn't avoid how close she came as her toes found the metal bed. I think she was impressed by the way I manhandled her, and I by the ease with which I could lift the tiny cutie. I don't care if she was my sister or not; feeling her youthful body slide into place pressed firmly to my front was enough to make my eyes roll back.

We stood there for a silent moment, neither of us knowing what to do next. Usually, with tension so thick I'd want nothing but to feel her lips on mine, but that wasn't an option. She nuzzled me, touching the tip of her nose to mine and breathing deeply. She was awaiting my next move.

After what felt like an eternity I reached down for the blankets in the storage locker, unfurling them and setting a few for us to lay on. I quickly positioned myself in the corner facing the concert to escape from our suggestive pose; Eunha followed and once again nuzzled under my arm.

My head swam with racing questions. Why were we acting like this? Why couldn't I just act the big brother and keep Eunha safe until she was sober enough to bring home? Why did every touch of her skin feel so electric?

It had to be the booze, or at least that's what I told myself despite the fact that it'd been an hour or two since my last drink. As soon as I settled in, threw a blanket over the two of us and felt my little sister snuggled up to me my worries began to melt away. The music, once again, captured me and the safety and warmth of our getaway was just what we both needed. A few people passed the truck but nobody close enough to notice us. It felt private, like we were all alone with nobody to bother us.

"I'm glad you found me," my little sister said, breaking the silence and staring up at me with her chin on my chest.

"I'm glad I found you too," I replied, "I don't know how much longer that pack of circling dogs would have left you alone."

Eunha giggled, "you think they saw something they liked?" She was clearly getting some enjoyment from goading me.

"More like they didn't see something... your clothes!"

Eunha laughed adorably and was clearly unphased this time by me calling out her outfit. In fact, she flipped the blanket off of us and opened up to me, causing her breasts to shake in place and her front to be utterly exposed to my view.

"You mean I'm not wearing enough?" she said, glancing down at herself and inviting me to do the same.

I couldn't NOT look. I set my eyes on her, seeing her perky breasts laying hardly any flatter and her athletic frame leading down to her bunched skirt. I had my eyes fixed upon her, but hers had found something else. She'd revealed her beautiful teenage body to me by flipping the blanket back, but she could see my lower half as well. And I was totally hot for her; there was no hiding the bulge in my shorts.

Eunha was clearly taken aback. As of yet I hadn't given her any direct indication that I was feeling lustful thoughts toward my little sister. And though she'd danced quite suggestively with me, we could still go home without feeling we needed to hide anything.

Yet my hardness had Eunha's mouth agape. Except it was not in disgust but rather something else. She knew what was going on in my head. I needed to be quick to act, to snub out the suggestion that I'd made unintentionally with my erection. But I was not in any position to think or act quickly. I didn't intend to... it was all too much and it was like Eunha was begging me to do something rash.

I planted my hand firmly under her breast, my thumb and forefinger plying the soft padded skin between them. Above sat the thin shroud of her butterfly and higher still a wide eyed and still open mouthed gaze from my little sister. She felt wonderful, and I finally had my hand on her teenage breast as I'd wanted to all night. I moved my fingers around, massaging her daringly.

Eunha's head rolled back a bit and she breathed in apprehensively. When I touched her more firmly next it elicited a soft "uhhh..." from her open mouth.

I kept moving my fingers in circles, handling her wonderful chest and marveling at the firmness of her unhindered breast. She let me continue long enough to build confidence. I took more of her in my hand and she sighed again, I could feel my little sister's hips begin to move involuntarily.

"Mmmmhh...Oppa" she cooed again. "We shouldn't... this is really naughty."

But her hips betrayed her words. They had found my leg and I could feel the heat from between hers as she urged herself against me. I explored her chest with my hand, moving it between her two breasts and up to her neck, then back to her other breast, feeling the butterfly sticker on my palm.

I wanted to feel more, so I pried at the edge of one sticker.

"Uhhhh Oppa... you can't," she protested, while continuing to gyrate on my leg.

I chose to listen to her body instead, and slowly peeled the wing of the butterfly backward. I watched her intently; she made no move to stop me. When I'd peeled enough to see the faintest denim of her small nipple she trembled with sensation. I pulled it off the rest of the way and saw in full what I'd been hoping for all night.

I intended to get to her other sticker but I immediately placed my hand on her breast and tested it gently. Her nipple must have been sensitive because she trembled once again.

I guess the heightened intensity of her further nakedness worked to my advantage because soon after, as my hand was sliding open-palmed over her taut stomach I felt hers moving slowly as well. First I felt it on my hip, then the soft spot of my pelvis, and then... as if it were her first time, her fingers lightly touched the bulge in my shorts.

It was my turn to groan. I had been tortured by Eunha's body all night and now she was finally moving to help relieve me. At first her hand dared not progress, resting enticingly over my hard cock with only layers of clothing between. But as I got more aggressive with my own hands and I helped pressure my knee back toward her grinding hips, my little sister found her confidence.

She wrapped as much of her hand around me as the fabric would allow and I gasped in response.

"Wowww," she whispered. It must have been bigger than she expected.

All the while, as my little sister was gaining the tenacity to take things further, I was already doing so myself. The sight of her exposed breast and my hand descending from it down her flat stomach was amazing enough, but my intentions to go lower had my heart pumping twice as hard.

My fingers reached the elastic waistband atop her denim skirt.

I could feel her breathing in and out, her abs tightening rhythmically.

We were both waiting for what I would do next. After a moment, I had waited long enough; I had to have more of my teenage sister.

I urged my fingertips between, feeling the soft skin and gentle curve of her hipbone as I did so. When I was just short of my target, Eunha's hand quickly found mine. Her palm came to rest atop mine, with the skirt between us.

Eunha's eyes looked up at me, full of desire and apprehension both. She bit at her lower lip before saying, "You should stop... unhhh... don't you think you should stop?"

She was probably right. If I didn't hold back now, things could go a lot further. I didn't know if my little sister was virgin but deep down I longed to find out. I wanted to have her in so many ways, to fuck her like she had been practically begging me all night. If the brother in me didn't intervene I might end up acting out every lust-filled vision I'd dreamt up while at Eunha's side all night, taking her in every position I'd longed to since I first caught glimpse of the beautiful cutie.

The decision was easy then. With Eunha's hand still firmly upon my member, and mine beneath her skirt as my eyes beheld her young, nearly-naked body, I threw caution to the wind. My fingers pressed down upon her mound and I watched as my little sister writhed in pleasure. Whether her protest was empty or not, the second my fingers pressured from outside her panties she was gone.

I rubbed in small circles where I could feel the precipice of her tiny opening. Even through the cloth of her bikini underwear I could feel that my little sis was wet for me. She lifted her hips when I didn't press hard enough. The hand that had been there to stop me now pushed my fingers more firmly against her.

Eunha's other hand fumbled around my shorts as she struggled to multi-task. Hard as it may have been for her to cope with her brother's attention to her aching sex, she eventually worked her hand inside my shorts.

Something clicked in me when she finally grasped me firmly, her hand on my bare cock. I was fully overcome with desire, love and lust for my little Eunha. Her pretty face looked focused upon returning the favor I was working on her pussy. Her eyes flitted to mine occasionally and then back to her hand as it worked up and down within my shorts. When our gazes met, there was no more worry or guilt, only the love and understanding of brother and sister with a clear lust for more.

She must have gotten frustrated by the obstacle of my shorts because moments later she hastily tugged the elastic band over the tent that had been formed there. My sizable penis sprang free to the open air and Eunha's longing eyes. They widened as she revealed what her hand already knew to be more than she had expected.

I took her brazenness as invitation, quickly dragging her skirt and panties both down to her knees. Eunha's face cast a second of shyness as I looked down, making sure the blanket hadn't covered my little sister's lower half as I disrobed her. She was totally bare, and from what I could tell her opening as small as I'd ever seen. If I intended to make love to her that night, she was likely to need a lot of time to adjust to my size.

Eunha continued her ministrations and explored all over me, gently grazing my head with her fingertips and testing the weight of my full balls with her hand. I touched down to my little sister's bare pussy for the first time as well. She quivered as I contacted her warmth. With two fingers I straddled her clit and stroked the full length of her young quim.

"Oooohh...fuuuuuck,.." Eunha mewed, "I can't believe we're doing this... feels so... ughhh... good."

I kept at her, rotating my fingers about her button and watching her squirm when I touched her just right. Seeing her back arch, abs ripple and her pretty breasts shift as I pleasured her, I nearly exploded. Eunha's hair was tussled over one eye; with my arm that was wrapped around her I pushed it back and rolled her toward me.

We kissed for the first time.

She tested my lips, pecking at them. I attempted to meet them more firmly but she teased me. I pulled her more tightly to me, yet still she withheld. I could sense her smile and then the breathy giggle that followed it, her breath tickling my chin.

I leaned in closer and caught her. Our lips touched firmly at last, and we both paused. We had already crossed many lines, but kissing my little sister felt equally as intimate, if not more. I pried my lips open a bit. Eunha did the same, pecking at me again. Then she pressed firmly to me, our noses intertwined and my hand left her wanton opening.

Within seconds our tongues were touching for the first time, lightly at first. But then it was more eagerly. I wanted to feel everything my little sister had to offer. Eunha sat up to get a better angle at which to kiss me but I had a bigger plans. I wanted Eunha atop me, in all her beauty, sitting in my lap and kissing me without inhibition.

I fumbled to remove my shorts the rest of the way and then Eunha's skirt. My efforts elicited a laugh from my little pink sis, but she was silenced as soon as I had my hands on her hips and pulled her atop me.

Her knees rested softly on the blanket beneath us.

Her hips had come to rest so that my erection was securely pinned beneath her bare pussy.

She looked down, with heightened awareness at the new contact we were making. I flexed my cock to make it all the more intense for her, for us both. Looking up, with one breast bare and the other still hidden beneath the remaining butterfly, I reached for it. Pausing a moment, as if I hadn't been fondling her other breast for the last ten minutes, I felt her soft skin and teased it.

Then I peeled the sticker off all in one motion. It didn't seem too painful but Eunha inhaled sharply all the same. Now she was totally naked to me. The reality aroused me: my little sister completely naked with her brother's cock actually touching her teenage pussy, But the sight spurred me to action. I urged my hands up her abdomen, holding her firmly and bringing them to her perfect breasts.

I relished the look on Eunha's face as she felt my hands upon her. I couldn't know exactly what was going on in her head but somehow I knew she was as willing a participant as I.

"God you are so beautiful Eunha," I told her, watching a big smile form on her face. She leaned down and kissed me with gratitude. I bet she looked wonderful from behind in her prone position.

After a few seconds she broke the kiss. "You are a good brother, Oppa. I love you so much."

"Somehow, I don't think Mom and Dad would agree," I said, glancing down between us were my erection was planted firmly between her tiny bare lips.

Eunha responded by thrusting her hips forward and backward along the length of my shaft. We both gasped in unison at the sensation. Our contact was near the real thing and at any moment one of us could have taken control and consummated the incestuous act we were building toward.

"Mom and Dad don't know how you protected me from all those creeps... ugh... " she moved back and forth again, "And they don't know how you tried to be good when I was being so naughty with my dancing. Oh fuck..." My little sister's words had made me involuntarily thrust my hips toward her, increasing the contact with her slit.

I had written off so much of Eunha's behavior tonight as drunkenness and now she was admitting to doing it on purpose. The tricky little tease; maybe all of those times her hand or butt had come in contact with my crotch in front of the stage weren't quite so accidental. I doubted it now.

I had one hand massaging her breasts, and another one forged a path between them and up to her neck. I half-encircled it gently and caressed her sensitive skin there.

"Oh Eunha," I said as she once again rolled her hips along my rod. "I want you so badly sis... you're driving me crazy." She obviously took that as an invitation to tease me more, lifting from my hips and letting my tip prod at her pussy. My baby sis pushed just softly enough that I was forbidden entrance before she lowered herself off again and I was rendered helpless.

"I don't want to take advantage... uhhh... " I said as she lifted up and directed my head to her pussy again. Watching me intently and capturing my gaze, she bore down on my tip enough that I held my breath and wondered what she'd do next. If I lifted my hips even an inch now my little sister would be as skewered on me as she was playing at.

She rolled her hips and my head again missed its mark. She was torturing me once more, and I was near taking control and teaching her a lesson. But Eunha had done it so she could lean in and kiss me. It's not that I didn't enjoy making out with the beautiful goddess, but I had been too close not to go further. As if she could read my mind, she removed her lips and hovered close to mine

"Oppa..." she assured me, "I want this."

With that I watched my teenage sister lift her hips from my lap and reach between us. She took hold of my cock and pointed it directly where we both wanted it. She lowered just enough to hold me in place before fixing her eyes upon mine.

All I could do was marvel, placing my hands on her hips lightly and giving my little sister complete control. I watched her, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, gazing down between us as she applied more weight. I could tell from the way her opening resisted me that she would be far tighter than I could have hoped.

"Ohh fuck bro... you're soo big... I gotta go slow."

I longed to be inside her, but I wanted Eunha to be as comfortable as possible. "It's okay sis, take your time."

She was plenty wet, her sliding back and forth already had my shaft glistening in the moonlight. She was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen. Her dirty pink hair framed her face just so, her eyes were closed for the moment as she concentrated on lowering, torturously slowly. Her toned body held breath as she tried to continue.

I felt my head finally part her little pussy lips and wondered if she could feel me throbbing to be inside her.

And then there was resistance. Eunha's eyes were still closed so I could not search them for answer. I watched her bite her lip as she pushed past what was obviously an uncomfortable obstacle.

"Uhhhh...owwww..." she howled in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

Eunha didn't open her eyes again until she had come to rest. My staff was fully immersed in my little sister and she was panting despite being completely still.

"Oh Eunha," I said, finding her eyes desperately upon mine. "Are you a virgin baby sis?"

She grinned, though her furrowed brow revealed she was still adjusting to having her big brother filling her so completely.

"Not anymore.." she quipped. Eunha was always clever; even, it seemed, when impaled on her brother's cock.

"I didn't... ughhh..." I could feel her pulsing from all the sensation being so full was causing her, "I didn't know Eunha..."

She moved to bring our faces together again. Even the slightest movement seemed to bring her more sensation to cope with and deep breaths by which to do so.

"It's okay Oppa..." she took another breath, "I wanted it to be you..."

I was enamored. My gorgeous sister had given me the most treasured gift she had to offer. Her wonderful personality, her perfect teenage body, and now her eighteen-year virginity was mine. My hands gripped her hips more tightly. We kissed, and simultaneously I helped Eunha lift her tiny pelvis up along the path my erection allowed.

She hummed against my lips. I could feel her tense as my head brushed over her broken hymen. When her entrance finally gave way to the ridges of my tip we broke our kiss. She let the head linger at her opening, threatening entrance at any second.

"Are you ready Eunha?" I asked her.

"Uh huh," she complied.

We both assisted in lowering her down, feeling me slide into my little sister and fill her so perfectly it was like I was meant to be there.

Eunha howled, "Oooooouuuww... fuck Oppa...slower..."

We both watched as inch after inch disappeared into her. I might have urged her faster if not for the marks her nails were leaving in my arms as she held on and took me deeper. Instead I just held her and savored every second that my little sister allowed me to be inside of her. As I watched her naked little body sink lower I remained amazed that I was truly making love to the younger sister I'd known and loved all my life.

Eunha had always been adorable. She'd been the youngest cheerleader when she started high school, she loved to drive boys crazy with whatever outfits our parents would let her get away with, and she had come into her pretty teenage body early on.

Her breasts had been the same size for years, often tucked visibly into the tight-fit clothing she wore. She always had the dimples and cute cheeks, though her blue eyes were equally distracting. Years of being active had sculpted her frame. As I looked at her now I saw that the little sister I'd watched grow up for years had a body to marvel at: thin at the waist with the hint of hipbones, a slender abdomen and the bulge of her ribcage before those mouth-watering teen breasts.

I reached around to grab Eunha's butt. It was firm like the rest of her but definitely something to hold on to. I did so as she continued her up and down movements on my cock.

"Fuckk... Oh God Oppa..." she called out,

"Eunha... ughh... you're so tight sis..." I didn't know how long I could last with my baby sis controlling the tempo and squeezing my shaft so securely.

"Ohmyyygod... I can't believe we're... mmmmhhhh..." she was upping the pace at which she lifted her hips and brought them down to meet mine. I could feel my tip prodding her deep inside, the very end of her tight channel soft against my tip. "I can't believe I'm fucking my brotherrrr...uhhhh"

My hands moved about. One gripped her hip tightly and started to urge her more roughly up and down. The other gripped her side and breast alternately, I wanted to feel as much of her tiny body as I could.

The music still droned in the background. Both of us had ceased hearing it long ago, listening only to each other's breathing and sounds of ecstasy. The lights flickered between the trees and the moon shone down on us from above. Not far off were thousands of people fixated on the loud music and dancing. I thought nothing of it, instead ensnared by my nude baby sister humping herself atop me.

I shifted, sitting upright with my back against the window to the cab. Eunha didn't miss a beat, pressing her breasts firmly against me and rocking her hips in our new position. She lowered herself fully onto me, with her clit pressed against my base. My little sister may have been a virgin, but she was quickly discovering all the ways sex could make her feel.

She rolled her hips around. Locked together my tip sought new ground inside of her and she writhed as it prodded her deep within.

She gasped aloud, "ohhhHHH... Fuuuck bro... It's so far in me..."

"I know Eunha, you feel amazing," I told her, "I don't know how much more I can take."

It was like that only encouraged her. "You can't come yet Oppa... uhhh..." she grabbed on to my neck and shoulder and started rocking her hips in a way no girl I'd been with before had ever done.

"I'm not wearing a c...shit Eunha slow down...I'm not wearing a condom!"

The feeling of my little sister urging my cock in and out of her was racing me toward release faster than I could control...

"Don't cum yet... just wait..." she pleaded.

She didn't slow down, I was afraid of what might happen if she kept it up. The little teenage troublemaker confirmed my fears.

"I'm not...ohhh..." she could feel my hands trying to slow her down, she pushed them from her... "I'm not on birth control ... you can't yet I'm really ... fuuuucking close."

My head was dazed, my hands didn't know what to do and my mind was torn trying to stop me cumming in my little sis and wondering what would happen if I did. It was then that Eunha nuzzled her head to mine and locked her hips again. She gasped in my ear and then called my name.

I was going to be able to hold out. Getting my little sister pregnant was less a concern now as was watching her have her first orgasm with a man, let alone me: her brother.

"Ooooooouuuhhhhh... Daaaaaaan..." she howled, shaking so much I had to hold her to make sure she wouldn't fall from my lap.

I withdrew from her what little distance I could with the quaking little girl in my arms and pushed back inside, thinking I would only add to her orgasm. It was a grievous mistake. My little sister cumming in my lap and the one last, pivotal thrust had built me too far.

When I felt her mound connect with me, I couldn't withhold the first jet of sperm that I sent as deep into my little sister's pussy as was possible. Nor could I stop the second, or the third. Eunha was so firmly planted with me inside and her body trembling from her electric climax that I couldn't have dreamed of removing her.

Nor did I want to. In a few fateful seconds I flooded my little Eunha with cum. She pushed at my chest early enough to lean back and look deep into my eyes while my tip was spurting its final, purposeful rope of semen into my little sister's fertile womb. If the time was right, there was no question that I'd filled Eunha with enough of her brother's cum to assure that we were both in a bit of trouble.

We looked down. The juncture between us was slick with our combined fluids. I could see the denim gleam of my cum attempting to work its way out. It had reached as deep within her as it could go and now sought another way out.

The evidence of our incest was unmistakable, and the look that we shared after we both saw it was fraught with wonder. What was Eunha thinking? She had to know what her brother had just done and what it meant; was she upset with me?

She answered with a kiss.

She leaned in and hugged me close. It felt reassuring having her pressed against me. It was even more comforting the passion with which we entwined our tongues and made out until Eunha backed off to speak.

"Sooo... you came inside me..." Her voice held no disappointment whatsoever.

"Yeah... I'm so sorry... I couldn't stop it, when you..." but she stilled my voice with a finger upon my lips.

"Uh uh," she denied me, "don't be sorry. I knew you might unless I stopped... but I didn't want to." She smiled mischievously. Her look was incredibly naughty, notwithstanding the fact that her tiny pussy was still dripping with her brother's cum and his cock still hard and lodged inside of her.

I was once again overcome with love for my little sister. She wasn't just the perky teen that I used to babysit. She was that, but she was now a hot little high schooler that had just given her virginity to her brother and done a fantastic job for her first time. It made her unspeakably naughty and desirable. She was my own personal eighteen year old sex-symbol, and I couldn't wait to see what trouble she would drum up next.

"It's just that I'm at... like... the best time to get pregnant right now, or at least that's what my schedule from SexEd says" she told me, biting her pointer finger like she had for years when she did something naughty.

"Oh..." was all I could say.

I was still so hard in Eunha's slick tunnel; the danger we were in did nothing to quell that. I'm quite certain that it only made matters worse, because I was already having thoughts that I wasn't done with my little sister for the night.

She looked down, "Oh my God, you came so much! I can feel it in me! It's really warm," her face showed an obviously faked look of concern, "what if you put a baby in your own baby sister?"

"What should we do?" I asked her, incredulous.

She looked deep in thought for a moment and then said, "I think you should fuck me again, just to be sure."

I must have heard her wrong. She must not have meant she wanted us to have unprotected sex again, right there in the truck bed. When she slowly pulled herself off of me I was certain that I'd just heard what I wanted to.

She got on all fours in front of me. There was cum trailing from her bald teen pussy, I ached to feel it wrapped around me again.

"Will you fuck me like this?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at me. "Doggy right?" she looked excited to know the position.

I was paralyzed. The reality of everything... the fact that I had my little sister naked in the bed of my truck, that I'd just pumped her fertile pussy full of my sperm without birth control, and now... she wanted me to do it again?

"Come on brother! You already fucked me once, and you filled me up with all that sticky cum." She shook her behind at me, taunting me. "Don't you want to fuck me again Oppa?"

I cautiously moved forward, my erection wagged in front of me, revealing my mind to her.

"Pleaaase...?" she said with a whine.

Her whine turned to a whimper when I touched my tip to her entrance once more. I slid it up from a few inches below, bringing with it the spunk that had escaped. Looking my little sister in the eye and seeing her bite her lip in anticipation, I pushed my tip between her pussy lips and in one long stroke I sank back into her, aided by our own fluids.

Though she'd already taken my size minutes before, it was obvious that she still had to adjust to each stroke.

"Ouwww... fuck it's big... ouuuhhh... be gentle with me... ugh... Oppa," she said after I'd started to thrust into her rhythmically.

I slowed down, but as my hips met her butt I pushed hard and prodded the soft spot at her cervix. We both drew inward a deep breath when I did, and then Eunha whimpered again as I withdrew.

I grasped her as I thrusted, my thumbs each pushing into her cheeks and fingers wrapped firmly around her hips. My little sister was small enough that my hands almost entirely encircled her hips. The slick sound of me penetrating my sister was audible on the night air, and I realized that the music had finally stopped. The cries of my little sister were adorable yet I hoped they didn't draw too much attention.

"Fuck me Oppa... fuck your little sister!" She encouraged me. I'd hardly ever heard her swear. Though, with my hard cock buried inside Eunha, I knew I was learning a lot about the tiny pink-haired cutie tonight.

"Oh Eunha..." I called to her, "I love you little sis, unhhh... you feel so good... I'm so glad I found you tonight."

She reached back and grabbed my hand, then got up on her knees. I held her with my hand across her chest, palming her breast as she turned. "I love you too Oppa...ughh ... oh Fuck..." she yelped, our upright position had brought a new angle at which I was penetrating her. "I'm so happy you found me too..." she turned to kiss me. I kept urging my cock into her deeply "Jesus...fuck...I've wanted you to fuck me...uhhh for a long time," she whispered.

I was surprised. I'd thought of my little sister many times before, even imagined her when I was with other girls. She was so adorable and her tight little body had been torturing me for many years, but I wrote it off as me being a typical horny young guy. I didn't think Eunha had similar feelings.

She seemed to read the surprise on my face. "Uh huh," she affirmed, "yeah I've thought about you a lot... mmmnhh uhhhh..." she tried hard to push her ass back toward me was I met it with the slapping sound of my own thrusts.

"Remember when we went camping...ughhhh owww... with Mom and Dad?" She was having trouble talking through panting fits, but she seemed to be aroused telling me, "You kept waking up spooning me?" she asked.

"Uuuuhhh keep fucking me," she demanded as I paused, remembering the weekend.

"You had a stiffy the whole time..." I remembered, those two nights were torture and I felt so guilty wondering if my little sis had felt my hardness against her each time.

"I remember Eunha..." I put my hand around her neck, holding it daringly but gently there.

"I did that on purpose...ooohh oooh fuck..." she gasped as I impaled her harder. "I kept hoping you'd just give in and fuck me... just like you are... uhh... right... now."

My head was spinning. My little sister was blowing my mind and taking every inch of my cock at the same time. I was like an animal as I pulled out from her and quickly turned her to sit on the tool chest. She was so light and our lovemaking so aligned that we barely missed a beat.

Looking at her, seated atop the metal box and with her arms and legs around me, I pointed my cock without touching it and entered her again. I was watching her face intently. Her mouth opened. She cooed as I shoved into her again. She spasmed as I bottomed out.

"Fuuuck Oppa..." she complained, "it feels bigger like this."

I didn't stop. I withdrew and then sank home again. Eunha jerked forward as I prodded her deeply. I could have slowed down but I was so mad with lust that I didn't desire to in the slightest. I just kept pulling out of my little sister and driving into her, taking her completely.

"Oppa... uhhh I can't take it... wait... ohhh God..."

She was too weak to hold me off and I knew that if I kept fucking her I'd send her into another orgasm. I thrust again and again. Eunha's abdomen flexed. The soft flesh between her hips mounded to accept my cock into her. I grasped my little sister's hips and held her tight as I impaled her and made her mine.

When it had built enough, Eunha's climax seemed to deny her the ability to control her movements. Her hands fumbled at my chest and hips. Her legs tightly clutched around at my backside and her head rolled to the side. I felt her quim grip me and then she was cumming hard. Fluid coated our union and my little sister screamed out.

Some hundred feet away a group of concert goers must have heard her. They were walking back to their car like me and could probably see the two of us making love in the bed of my truck. My little sister was trying to contain herself but when I didn't stop pushing inside of her over and over she could do little to quiet her moaning.

The spectators would see the tiny pink-haired girl writhing and calling out through a voracious orgasm. They'd see a man, quite a bit larger than her, obviously driving her to such action with strong thrusts. Only we would know the truth, and having onlookers didn't stand a chance of stopping me from finishing off my little sis.

I did slow down so she could catch her breath. She looked at me, almost frustrated. "Oh my God..." she said, still trying to inhale and exhale deeply. She watched me, and quickly sensed by the very slow in and out movement of my hips that I wasn't finished.

"Aww, do you wanna cum Oppa?" she said, sounding like she was taunting me. "Do you wanna cum inside your little sister again?"

I did, desperately. I resumed my urgency.

"But you could get me pregnant Oppa..." she warned. "Are you gonna shoot your sticky cum inside your naughty little sister again...uhhh...even thou...oh fuck... even though I'm not on birth control?"

Her legs were pulling at me. One of her hands had my neck and the other found my balls, gently massaging them.

"But Oppa...oooOOO" she whined, "I'm only eighteen!...Ohfuckyourbig..." she cried as I buried my cock into her tight pussy roughly. "You shouldn't fill up your little sister...uhhh...with your... hot...sticky... cum "

I was close, and Eunha's words had brought me there. I'd never heard her swear before, let alone talk dirty with her brother's cock disappearing in and out of her as she practically begged for it.

"I'm gonna...ohhh... Eunha..."

I held onto her and let my lust do the rest. Her tiny frame writhed and accepted me, her teenage breasts shaking with each thrust.

"It's okay baby..." she told me, "cum for me big brother...ohhhh... cum in my little pussy... cum inside your little sister... get me ...FUCKKK... get me pregnant... I want it."

That was it, Eunha's tiny body, her hand massaging my balls, and her teasing words had brought me to my knees. I erupted into her.

It didn't seem possible, but nonetheless it felt like more than the first time. As I released rope after rope of forbidden semen into my little sister, I buried myself as deeply into her as I could. It jetted perfectly at the entrance to her womb. I coated her insides for the second time that night. And when I had all but filled my baby sis with everything I had, she trembled into a short but rewarding orgasm of her own. I could only move an inch or so within her without stimulating my own hypersensitive tip, but when I did I could feel a few last pumps of my cum added into little Eunha as she quivered through her own climax.

I held her close to me until I felt her pleasure subside. I picked her up and lay us down in the corner of the truck bed with the blankets around us. We were too hot to lay beneath one just yet but I made sure to keep Eunha warm as we lay there together.

Eunha spoke first.

"That was..." she seemed short of words, "the best thing that's ever happened to me."

I smiled at her affection. She snuggled close.

"You were perfect little sis. You ARE perfect."

She had the biggest grin on her face from my compliment. I loved seeing her so satisfied.

My hard member had not yet left her. If I wasn't so exhausted from, first the concert, and then the most amorous and sapping lovemaking I'd probably ever experience, I would have fucked my little sister again. I think she felt the same. She was totally limp in my arms, but we were both content to remain locked together at the hips with brother's cock within his own little sister.

"Now you came inside me twice!" she stated, "I can't believe how it feels, there's so much in me!"

She was right. Both times I had unloaded more into my little sister than I thought possible. I made a motion to slide my cock, finally, from inside of my teenage sister. Eunha stopped me.

"No...mnnnhhh... I want to keep it in me, just stay there a while." she instructed.

I obeyed, wincing as I returned the inch I'd pulled out of her tunnel. Both Eunha and I felt certain that she would be pregnant; there was no harm in letting my spunk warm her a while longer.

We simply remained there, quiet but for the sound of crickets and the distant voices of men disassembling the stage. Somewhere my friends were probably wondering where I was. The guys I had arrived with were probably still trying to get with one of the girls they'd brought or met at the concert. None of them would know, and I could never tell what had happened after I'd taken off toward the girl with butterfly.

I looked down at her, remembering how badly I'd wanted exactly this as I saw her across the crowd. But it was better than I had ever imagined. I had just made love to the most beautiful girl at the concert, and the most wonderful girl I'd always known.

"I love you bro," she said to me after a few moments.

"I love you too sis."

"You were better than I ever dreamed." she insisted, "I hope you aren't done with me now?" Her face had that puppy-dog look she always used on my dad. I loved it, but it wasn't necessary.

"No way Eunha," I promised, "I'm your brother, and I'll never be 'done' with you."

"Good," replied my little sister, "because I want you to fuck me and fill me up like you did everywhere we go... "

"Sure little sis," I laughed.

"In your truck...on my bed... at my school... in mom and dad's bed..." she prattled on. I caressed her abs and breasts lovingly as she spoke. When she mentioned our parents we both paused.

"What'll we tell Mom and Dad?" she asked.

"Nothing, obviously!" I responded without hesitation.

"No, silly, what will we tell them when I'm pregnant with my big brother's baby?" as if it was assured.

"We don't know that yet Eunha."

"Well if you didn't just get me pregnant, Oppa, you will soon," she said, matter-of-factly. Somehow, I loved the thought. My baby sister Eunha, walking around in public with the bump of her big brother's child...

I made love to my little sister again that night, hours later after we'd snuggled up in the cab of the truck and fallen asleep. I awoke to her spooning with me like she had that night long ago when we were camping. This time, my cock found the right place: inside my cute, eighteen-year-old, unprotected and willing little sister Eunha. It found there over and over again until I came inside her without a care in the world but to have Eunha in my arms.

Months later, the story could change if we kept up the way we were. But for now, both my little sister and I were glad that we'd gone to the same concert.

#gfriend smut #viviz smut #eunha smut #gg smut #kpop smut #male reader smut #gfriend #viviz #eunha #smut #kpop #viviz eunha #gfriend eunha

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kilojulietsierra · 22 days ago

Text

Baby, It's Alright - Chapter Three (Dr Robby x FemNurse!Reader)

Ok y'all the storms were messing with my internet last night so sorry for the delay, but here it is!

TW: All my content is considered 18+ so proceed accordingly, fluff, a little smut, early days of dating miscommunication, Robby is a bad influence but also wants to spoil her so bad, mentions of therapy, language, Sam makes another cameo, grammar and spelling cuz I don't edit this shit lol

Need to catch up? Chapter One Chapter Two

~~~~~~

Chapter Three

Michael had let you pick the restaraunt, which you appreciated. You'd picked a small place a few blocks from your apartment. A hole in the wall tavern with an eclectic drink menu and a margherita flatbread you could live on if you allowed yourself. The litghting was dim, the interior was all brick and reclaimed wood, the music was soft and jazzy, you loved this place. You also loved the way Michael looked as he glanced over the menu with his glasses on.

"Friendly reminder, I'm old." He deadpanned from beside you at the bar.

"Not even close to what I was thinking." You can't quite look at him when you say it so you pretend to read the menu.

His knee bumps yours to pull your attention back, "And what exactly were you thinking then?" He settles his eyes on you, the glasses just low enough on the bridge of his nose that he can study you over the top of them.

You wish you had a drink already because your mouth goes a little dry, "Definitly not that you're old." You avoid the question and your cheeks warm at the way he smirks.

He let's it go, though he continues to look skeptical, maybe a little mischievous. "Jack gives me hell, says I should just get lasik. Says it's life changing."

"I like the glasses." You can't bring yourself to look at him when you say it, except out the corner of your eye. Enough that you catch the way his smile ticked up to one side.

"Good to know." Michael nodded and went back to the menu, "Very good to know."

~~~~~

Michael walked you home after dinner and it was chilly enough in the evenings now that you felt justified in sticking close to him. You thought your heart was going to stop when he reached over to grab your hand and pulled it, guided it easily so that he could link your arm through his.

It felt good, it felt easy and right and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep what would surely be the most ridiculous smile off your face.

He opened the door to your building for you, and when his hand settled in the middle of your back to guide you through you were nearly certain you would spontaneously combust.

Michael though, Michael seemed so calm and quiet, kept the same easy smile on his face like it was completely normal. When he helped you out of your coat, finally inside your apartment, you entertained the thought. How nice would it be for this to be your normal?

"You want something to drink?"

You grin, "He asks me in my own apartment."

Michael grinned back at you and leaned against the counter in your tiny kitchen, "Well?"

You chew your lip and concedes, "There's a bottle of wine in the fridge, nothing fancy." You try not to feel silly. Your mind automatically jumped to Jack and Sam's house with it's wine cooler and collection of whiskey and bourban. "Sorry, I don't have any bourban or anything like that."

He had already opened and closed the door to your fridge and begun the search through your cabinets for glasses. "Don't need anything fancy." He said it offhand, but then Michael must have seen the look on your face, "Hey, what's wrong?"

You hesitated, "Honestly, just feeling kind of silly I guess." T

he cupboard door thunked and he crossed the small kitchen, his eyes scanned your face and then before you could explain yourself futher Michael was kissing you.

Dr.Michael Robinavitch, was standing in the tiny kitchen, of your tiny apartment, towering over you, one warm hand on your cheek... and kissing you. It was soft and slow and over too soon. "Better?" His smile was soft, his eyes warm and searching as he tried to read your expression.

Your breathing still hadn't regulated, your mind still racing, but you couldn't keep the smile off your face. "Maybe, a little."

When his smile widened and he leaned in to kiss you again, it felt like your heart was going to break free from your chest. His hand didn't move, he didn't move, he only kissed you. Smoothed his lips overs yours in long, steady passes.

When he pulled back he tugged your bottom lip with him and he must of liked the way it made you giggle because he dropped one more kiss to your lips. His thumb stroked over the place where he had treated the airbag burn on your cheeks the couple weeks before. Like an afterthought he tipped his head and dropped a kiss there too, lips just brushing the apple of your cheek. "How about now?" His voice was low and warm and close enough to your ear to send shivers down your spine.

"Feel like I could use that drink now." You couldn't help the near giggle that escaped, but you also couldn't help but notice the way Michaels gaze darted lower, his cheeks a little pink, when you bit your lip to stifle it.

He gave you a smirk and a half chuckle, "I can make that happen." HIs thumb stroked over your cheekbone one more time and then he was back on his search for wine glasses. "Go sit, I'll bring it over."

You did as he said and watched him from your little loveseat as he moved through your kitchen and poured the wine. As he approached you felt simultaneously embarassed by the tiny couch in your tiny apartment, and beyond grateful for it because it left little room to sit anywhere except right up against him.

When he brought you the wine he handed you a glass and then dropped himself into the empty corner of the sofa. He turned to face you, right arm drapped over the back, one leg folded up on the seat cushiion. WIth his other hand he raised his glass, "To finally getting that second date." He clinked his glass to yours, "Worth the wait."

The only answer you could form was an embarrasingly giddy smile that you immediately tried to hide in your wine.

Michael grinned wider and took a sip for himself. "If I can ask, why did you say you felt silly?"

You took another hurried sip of wine and then shook your head, "Nothing really."

He looked at you in a way he hadn't since that first night at Jack and Sam's. Like he was trying to figure something out. "I'd like it if you'd tell me." His expression was so soft, curious, eyes so sincere.

"Well," You start, "Maybe it's stupid, probably is, but I guess it's just that... I really like you and spending time with you and it's just sort of, jarring maybe," You twisted up your face trying hard to put your feelings into a coherent sentence. "Now that i'm saying this out loud I'm actively realizing it's stupid." You busted out into a laugh and finally just spit it out, "My apartment is tiny and embarrassing, and I only have these two wine glasses, like maybe four forks, the bedding on my bed right now is from Walmart and it's like four years old. Feel like I'm playing out of my league I guess."

If the embarrassment didn't kill you after spitting all that out, the look on Michaels face might.

Michael simply shook his head, his grin still present but softer, "You understand that none of that,"

"I know." You interrupt him, shake your head at yourself and lean your head against your hand, mirroring Michaels position opposite you. "I... I do know. Think you just..." the words trailed off as you really studied the way the man across from you was looking at you. The effect it had on you, "You have me all flustered."

His grin turned into a smile, a chuckle even, and he turned his head to one side as he stretched his arm towards you over the back of the couch. Warm, gentle fingers tugged at your wrist until your arm was laid over the back of the couch like his. Michaels fingers traced over the inside of your wrist. He locked eyes with you and kept his voice low, "You think I'm not?"

~~~~~~

You and Robby were dating.

You were dating Dr. Michael Robinavitch.

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch sent you cute text messages, called you on the mornings or evenings your schedules didn't line up, he even occasionally sent you Doordash while you were on shift.

Like tonight, for example, when you walked past Sam where she sat behind the nurses station at her computer. Her eyes locked on yours with a very satisfied smirk on her face.

"What?" You attempted to play it off as you settled into an empty chair behind the station.

Sam just shook her head, "Didn't say anthing."

"You're thinking something, I can tell." You rolled your eyes as you dug into the bag from your favorite Italian place.

The charge nurse grinned and spun her chair to face you, "You guys are just cute, that's all." Her grin doubled when you pretended to be overly invested in your late night lunch. Sam spun back to her computer, "Wish I had someone to send me lunch from my favorite place in the middle of a long shift."

You scoffed, "Oh please." You stopped with the plastic fork halfway to your mouth. "I wIsh I had a shiny new $90,000 SUV."

Sam laughed as she picked up her water bottle and spun back around to face you, "Just have to ask really nice." She threw you a wink before she took a long drink of water.

"I don't know about that," You paused again to look at your forkfull of food, "Feels weird when he spends money on me, even stuff like this." You took the bite of pasta finally. Savored it for a moment. "Feels like mooching or something."

WIth a scoff Sam spun a circle in her chair, "Honey, not to be that person, but do you know what your new boyfriend makes a year?" Her eyes were wide when she hunted for your gaze, "He has the money to spend, and I know Robby well enough to know that shit like that," She points to the lunch he'd sent you, "That's like a love language for him. He likes taking care of people, especially his people."

The radio on the desk by Sam's computer crackled and squelched before you could respond, or even think through how you would respond. Ambulance service was en route.

You shoved a few more bites of the pasta in your mouth as fast as you could without choking and tried not to get hung up on the fact that Sam had used the word boyfriend. You and Robby were dating, but the words boyfriend or girlfriend hadn't been used, and as silly as it may have been that suddenly made you a little less confident in your new relationship status. '

~~~~~

Want to get dinner tonight? Promise I'll try and get out on time.'

You had stared at that text message longer than you'd care to admit. Wasn't like it was a booty call, it was dinner. Michael had a long weekend and you had the night off. It would make sense to go out, but you had got into your head again.

He sent you the sweet texts, he called you, he took you out, sent you lunch at work, kissed you. In fact, he kissed you like no man had ever kissed you before, but you hadn't yet talked about where this would end up. Did you want the same thing?

When the phone in your hand vibrated you nearly dropped it. Michael Robinavitch.

"Hey."

"Hey, didn't know if you saw my text, want to grab dinner?"

"Michael, am I your girlfriend?" The words were out of your mouth before you could even think twice. Your stomach dropped as you heard yourself speak them outloud.

For a moment the line was quiet. "Yes... at least... I've been working under that assumption." Another long pause. "Is that okay?"

"I'm sorry I," "

Hey, no, Don't apologize. Just..." The deep inhale was audible through the phone, "Can I come pick you up?"

Twelve minutes later there was a knock at your door. You'd spent most of that time panic cleaning and trying not to feel like you were going to be sick. Like you hadn't just messed this up. When you opened the door you stood up straight and prepared for... you didn't know what.

Michael was standing there in his scrubs and a wellworn Carhartt coat with snow still melting on the shoulders. He looked tired, but he still smiled when he saw you.

"Hey." Your voice barely registered to your own ears.

He just tilted his head to the side a bit and his smile grew a little, "Want to tell me what's wrong?"

You took a shaky breath and fidgeted in place, "Nerves I guess. We haven't really... labeled this and I think I just got into my own head."

Michael nodded, "Ok." He shoved his hands deeper into the coat pockets, "Well, I had a long fucking day and I'm starving. So, now I would like to spend the evening with my girlfriend. So, why don't you, said girlfriend, go grab your stuff? We'll swing by the house so I can shower and change quick, then you can tell your boyfriend," He smirks a little at the way you're making a face at him, "Which is me, by the way," He points to himself, "Where you want to go for dinner. Sound good?"

Your cheeks are warm and you can't decide whether to roll your eyes or smile like an idiot. So, you do both. "Yeah, that sounds good."

You furrowed your brow as you stared out the passenger window of Robby's truck. It never really occurred to you, not that you'd been dating for that long, but you didn't know where he lived. Now, as you drove down another tree lined street with little shops and the old, colonial style townhomes you realized you maybe should have asked. "You live in Shadyside?"

"Mhmm. Bought a place over here few years ago. Got it quote unquote cheap because it needed some work." He glanced over at you as he hit the blinker and turned a corner, "Not what you were expecting?"

"I didn't say that." You gave him another eyeroll and watched him grin, "Not sure what I was expecting I guess."

He slowed down and hit a button above the rearview mirror, "Well," He turned into the short drive and pulled the pickup into the ground level garage, "I dumped about half of what I paid for it into renovating it, so hopefully you approve, because I'm stuck with it for awhile."

When he let you into the house you stuttered to a stop just inside. Your heart dropped at the fact that you had ever let Michael see the inside of your tiny apartment, let alone made him sit on the floor with you and eat. You didn't move until you heard the thud of Michaels backpack and felt two hands settle on your shoulders, "I'm going to go wash the hospital off me quick." He kissed the back of your head, "Make yourself at home, snoop around, help yourself to… whatever." He dropped another kiss to the back of your head and then headed upstairs.

In your mind you had imagined Michael in something like Jack and Sam had. A nice house in the suburbs, lots of room, neat and tidy, maybe a pool. You were wrong, because this house, this house fit Michael Robinavitch in a way a house in the suburbs never could. It was warm, lived in but not quite a mess, not roomy, but comfortable. You felt like you could easily make yourself at home in the space, but you weren't sure if that was because of the house, or because it belonged to Michael.

~~~~~

Robby had showered quickly and tried not spend too much time thinking about the fact that he finally had you in his house. He had just stepped back into the bedroom to change when he paused. He heard something, More than just you moving around the house, so he pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt and headed back downstairs.

If he'd been nervous those feelings disappeared instantly as he came back downstairs and paused around the corner. Robby smirked to himself as he watched you move through his kitchen. Took the moment to stand back, quiet his breathing and watch until you caught him.

You paused, eyes wide and one hand on the refrigerator door, "How long have you been standing there?"

Robby chuckled, "Long enough." He stepped the rest of the way into his kitchen, "What're you looking for?"

"Oh," You looked around, "I thought maybe instead of going out to eat we could make something here."

He took a couple steps closer, smiled and nodded, "I'm guessing you've figured out that I need to get groceries?"

You laughed and Robby couldn't help but smile wider to see it. "Yeah, you really do."

"Okay with takeout? At least for one more night."

"That depends." You bit your lip.

WIth another chuckle Robby shook his head, "You really want Gio's again?" The way your smile doubled told him everything he needed to know. "Ok, pick out a bottle, I gotta go grab my phone and my wallet." He gestured to a built in wine cooler and disappeared back upstairs.

By the time he made it back downstairs, rattling the last few digits of his card off, you had picked out a bottle of wine and apparently found the bottle opener and two glasses. He hadn't needed to ask what to order for you, you always got the same thing, which he found adorable. "Said should be fifteen to twenty."

You met him in the middle of the kitchen with a glass for him, "What do you want to do while we wait?"

Robby grinned, shook his head a little at the glint in your eyes, "How about," He took the glass and set it down before guiding you around to one of the stools tucked under the kitchen island, "We talk about what you said earlier." He held your gaze as he leaned against the opposite side of the island from you, "Because apparently there's been some... miscommunication there. Which is mostly my fault. So, you were worried that this wasn't...?" He let the question trail off in the hopes you would fill in the blank for him.

After a long sip of wine you laid your hands flat on the marble counter top and nodded, "So, Sam said something at work."

Robby let his head bob, snorted because of course it was Sam. Sam always had something to say

"She called you my boyfriend, and it just made me realize we haven't really... put a name or a label on any of this and..." You took a deep breath, flicked your eyes back up to his. "That makes me nervous."

At first he just nodded, tried to hear what you were saying and really understand where you were coming from. "Because that made you think maybe this wasn't as serious as you wanted it to be?" He took an educated guess. When you nodded and looked back to the countertop, Robby nodded along. "I meant what I said when I picked you up tonight. You are my girlfriend. At least that's how I think of you" He scratched at the back of his neck, hearing how silly it sounded, and ducked his head to try and get you to look at him again, "This is real for me, I'm sorry I didn't make that clear." You finally looked up at him, eyes a little glassy, and he gave you a wink, "I'm just a little rusty is all."

You took another sip of your wine and smiled, "Sorry, i've been kind of weird."

Robby brought his wine glass with him as he circled back around the island to come closer to you, "Look at us." He hooked a finger under your chin and tipped your face towards his so he could kiss you briefly, "Communicating." He kissed you again, just a little longer that time.

"Therapist would be so proud." You smiled up at him, chuckled at him when he scrunched his face up and looked away.

"Shouldn't make fun of me." He dropped his hand from your chin to lean on it, fingers splayed wide over the marble counter. "I'm not." You chuckled as you looked up at him. His heart misfired when you raised both hands to rest over his chest.

"I think it's sexy you go to therapy."

"Jesus Christ." He murmered and chuckled at himself, his brain short circuited as he watched your smaller hands smooth over the front of his shirt. It made you laugh, which made him happy. "Anything else would you like to communicate about?" Robby liked the way you rolled your eyes at him. It made him want to do and say whatever it took so you'd keep doing it. He also liked the way you always had to bite back a smile while you did it. "Anything at all?"

You looked up at him from your seat on the stool, grin on your face, and seemed to think for a moment, "We could talk about why you've been slumming it, coming over to my itty bitty, sad little apartment instead of asking me to come over here."

"You assume I've never lived in a cheap apartment?" He grinned and studied your face, got the feeling you were only half teasing. "I wanted to spend time with you, doesn't matter to me where that is." He nodded to himself briefly and then gave you a smile. "This is still new, we're still figuring it all out." He took an extra step closer, dropped a hand to your knee to turn you towards him so he could kiss you again. "Now you know that you are definitley my girlfriend," He gave you an encouraging smile and another kiss, "You also know you can spend as much time here as you want." He spoke the words a breath away from your lips, close enough that he could feel you smile, "Preferably a lot of time."

~~~~~~

You were making out with Michael.

You were sitting on the couch, making out with your boyfriend, Dr. Michael Robinavitch, when you were supposed to be doing homework.

It had started innocently enough. You had the night off and a paper due. Michael had told you to come over and work on it at his place. Which is how you ended up on the couch, your back to his chest while you typed away and he read through case notes on his tablet.

You couldn't remember for sure when his free hand had moved to your arm and his fingers had started to stroke absentlmindedly over your skin. At one point he had startled you, his voice low and so close to your ear as you typed, "That study came out in twenty two not twenty three."

"Are you reading over my shoulder?" You teased even as you pulled up another tab to verify the dates.

Michael just chuckled and kissed the back of your head, kept his lips there, "Sounds good so far." He pressed another kiss behind your ear. "Almost done?"

"Almost." You corrected the date you'd cited for the study. Michael had been correct. You bit back a grin, "It'd go faster if you quit doing that."

"Doing what?" He chuckled even as he kissed the spot again.

"Distracting me." You let yourself smile, but continued typing. Or rather tried to.

"When's it due again?"

You heard the thunk of the tablet as he set it down on the end table and then the lighter sound that must have been his glasses as he set them down on top of it. Then both his hands were on you. "Uh," You had to think for a minute, "Not until tomorrow night. Midnight."

"Hmm." Robby wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tighter to him, "Plenty of time."

"You're supposed to be an educator, should be a better influence than this." You griped, but you still hit save and closed your laptop.

"Oops." He chuckled as you settled back into him and let him take your laptop to move it aside.

You never turned around to face him, just let him hold you like he had been and tip your face towards his. HIs hands on you, but never inappapropriat, never pushing too far. Or maybe not pushing far enough, you couldn't decide. Eventually you started to fidget, "Michael…"

"Hmm?' Was his only response, other than a large hand settling on your hip to keep you still.

After another long, mind numbing kiss, you chuckled, "I don't even know."

Michael grinned, snuck a thumb under the hem of your shirt and stroked it over the warm, soft skin underneath, "Why don't you stay here tonight?"

You froze. That was new. Very new. Coming over and spending time with him, in his home, had become a common occurrence, but you'd never stayed the night.

"You sure?" Your voice was soft when you turned more to look him in the eye.

HIs thumb continued to stroke back and forth over your hip, "Up to you, sweetheart." His eyes locked on yours and held, face soft, hint of a grin fighting at the corner of his lips.

For a long moment you were torn. The idea of spending the night with Michael was terrifying and exhilerating. You two had been going slow, taking your time, this would be… new.

"Hey," Michaels voice was soft and his breath warm against your ear, "Not asking for anything, just…don't want you to leave just yet."

You chewed on your lip for a beat, "Work tomorrow?" When Robby shook his head his grin grew another fraction. "Trying to mess up my sleep schedule more than it already is?"

Robby chuckled, "Can stay up as late as you want." He pulled you back in to another, slower, softer kiss. "Maybe even sleep in."

Barely a whisper you added, "I didn't bring anything to sleep in."

HIs face split into the smile he'd been fighting back, "Even better." He laughed when you elbowed him, hard.

"You really are a terrible influence." You scowl at him over your shoulder, but you couldn't hold it long.

"Don't tell anyone." Michael tossed you a wink and reached to pull you back to him, his eyes locked on yours. HIs Adams apple bobbed as you leaned back into him and he settled his hands on your hips. Not guiding, not pulling, only holding. "Hey," He paused, like he hunted for the words, "It's alright," He paused to inhale deeply as you leaned into him, "Baby, it's alright if…"

You stopped him with a kiss, reached behind you with one hand to pull him to you, "It's alright if I want to stay?"

He smiled, smoothed his hands up your sides. "I'd like it if you did."

"If I stay will you let me finish my paper?" You looked back at him, eyebrow raised.

Michael seemed to consider, "Eventually." He kissed you again, and then let you get comfortable, sink back into him. His hands didn't stop though. His breath warm against your ear, his hands smoothed over your hips and your sides. "Maybe tomorrow."

Your brain had already checked out of any further, meaningful conversation. The only thing on your mind was that you were cuddling on the couch with Michael, making out with Michael, his hands on you, his beard brushing against the smooth skin of your neck. For the rest of the night you could stay like that, there on the couch in his arms if you wanted. Once again his thumb slipped under your shirt, smooth, repetitive strokes.

You could've stayed there as long as you wished, but you wanted more.

A little shocked by your own boldness you dropped your head back against his shoulder, eyes closed, as you smoothed a hand down his forearm. You settled your own hand over his and coaxed it further under your shirt. The satisfied hum, nearly a moan, slipped out as his heavy, warm hand spread wide over your stomach. His touch smoothed up and over your ribcage, his thumb within centimeters of your bra. The next sound you made was much closer to a proper moan and you could feel the way Michaels chest rumbled with a chuckle. "That feels good." You whispered as you felt his lips ghost across your neck.

"Yeah?" His tone matched yours as his left hand joined the other under your shirt. He pressed short kisses over the length of your neck. When you nodded, the kisses grew longer, wetter. "Good. I want you to feel good."

All you could do was nod.

"Want me to stop?" He slowed his movements.

"God no." Your eyes snapped open only to be met with his. Dark and shining with something, a grin on his face.

He brushed his nose a long your jaw before coming back for a kiss, "So, I can keep going then?"

You nodded and he slid his hands higher, the overwhelming heat of it forcing your eyes closed again.

"You want me to make you feel good?"

"Please."

His grip on you tightened with a tremor, his arms locked around you as his fingers dug in and Michael murmured out a strangled, breathless, "Fuck." Into your hair. He let out a long, unsteady breath and moved with a lazy purpose. One hand up and up, over a breast to slip easily into the cup of your bra to squeeze you. His thumb rolled over your nipple like he knew exactly where it would be, how much pressure to apply.

It makes your body react without your permission as you arch up into his touch. "Robby…God."

"Michael." He corrects you, words hot against your ear as his lips close over your earlobe and his grip on your breast tightens.

You whimper, your body rolls again and your own hands grab at his jean covered thighs on either side of you, "Fuck, sorry, Michael. Feels good."

"Good girl." The fingers of his other hand dipped, just barely, past the waistband of your own jeans, "Can I?"

There was no need to ask what it was he wanted, you had a pretty good idea, and besides that you would let Michael do just about anything he wanted to you at that moment. "Yes," Your hips pushed up into his touch, "Please."

His hold on you tightened, pushed you back so you were pressed against him completely again and Michael half chuckled half growled in your ear as he did it. "So sweet." His hand on your hip moved, joined the other, his fingers working together to undo the button and the zipper.

You couldn't help but watch, breath caught in your throat, as he slid his hand further. As it crept closer and closer to where you wanted it. No sound escaped you when his first finger found you so wet and warm, only a long studdering exhale as you let your eyes fall closed again.

Michael also kept silent, his attention focused entirely on where his hand disappeared into your pants. That same, singular finger stroked over you, the tip just barely dipping into your warmth with each stroke. Just when you thought you would have to say something, to ask for more, he gave you more. Like he had read your mind he dipped his middle finger in, one steady move, to the knuckle. His lips pressed to your temple and stayed there as he continued.

Before long he had established a pattern. His finger would sink in deep and then withdraw to circle around your clit. Once, twice and then back to tease you from the inside out. Over and over he did this, like nothing else existed in his world, until your hips had picked up the rhythym. WIth each sweep of his finger you couldn't help but lift your hips up to chase the sensation, then almost immediately grind back against him.

When the silence was finally broken it was with a rumbling chuckle, mostly a groan, Michaels breath hot against your ear, "Going to make me embarrass myself." His other hand settled heavy and firm on your hip, dragging your ass back against his erection and then trapping you there. He held you there with one hand while the other picked up the pace, the same pattern, the same motion, only quicker.

The sound his wrods and actions drug from you would be embarrassing if it hadn't made his own hips shift against yours. "Michael…"

"God," It game out as a whisper, but he sped up his hand, no longer teasing. Now he was chasing after something, "Never going to get tired of that." Then there was two fingers, faster, rougher, "Say it again, baby."

You did as he asked, whined out his name as he stoked the fire inside you.

"Say it again." He repeated himself.

"Michael, please." Like every strong, independent, feminist part of you lept out the window the only thing you wanted in that moment was for this man to make you cum. Now.

His hand moved faster,so borderline rough that you didn't have to move your hips. He was moving them for you. His touch shifting your hips under his fingertips as he focused all his attention on the swollen little bundle of nerves and ground his erection against you from behind, "Fuck baby, it's alright. It's alright, go ahead and let it go for me. Give it to me." Michael spoke, moaned, every word into your ear as his lips and teeth and tongue sucked and carresed and nipped at the sensivtive skin until your body seized up in his arms.

No more cute, needy little whines. You let out one, single, strangled gasp of his name as you came. Your head spinning and your entire body alight, like every nerve ending lit up at once.

Michael groaned, deep and louder than anything he'd let slip before. His arms bulged as they locked around you.

It took a moment, your brain barely functioning, for you to realize that Michael had cum with you.

"I'm sorry," He brushed his nose over the shell of your ear, chuckled at himself as he kissed over your neck.

WIth one limp arm you reached behind you to grab Michael by the back of his head and pull him to kiss you properly. "Oh baby, it's alright." You smiled into the kiss, a happy, satisfied little giggle escaping against his lips.

His fingers slipped back inside you and he cracked a scandalous smile when you trembled at the sensation. "We should go to bed."

When you whined, he chuckled again. Sleep was the last thing on your mind.

The fingers inside you swirled, curled, scissored as it to stretch you out and Michael whispered to you again, "Baby, I'm old, but I'm not that old." He nipped at your earlobe. "Nowhere near done with you yet."

~~~~~~

Chapter Four Coming Soon!

If you enjoyed this and haven't already checked out the rest of the connected stories you can find them here! -> Save Me From Myself

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfic #the pitt fanfiction #dr robby #dr robby fanfiction #dr robby x reader #dr robby smut #dr robinavitch #dr michael robinavitch x reader #dr michael robby robinavitch x reader #dr michael robinavitch #michael robinavitch #Michael Robinavitch x reader #dr robby x you #noah wyle #the pitt smut #the pitt x reader

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miniaturesuitgladiator · 5 months ago

Text

Batfam x Neglected Mortal

Kombat Reader

Notes: this is part 8 to lucid dreams.

Warnings ⚠️: child neglect. Running away. And I called reader dumb...

'May the twenty second, 3 years ago....' You repeat in your head.

May 22nd three years ago, was when you had realized that you didn't mean anything anymore to your mother...

May the 22nd was when you guessed she stopped loving you.. or atleast that's when you figured out she did.

It was your last year of middle school and it was your graduation...

You had worked so hard to get good grades you took extra classes did everything you could to be the top student of your school... and you had gotten valedictorian of your middle school.....but you didn't care for the praise or the small medal they gave you.

No, all you wanted was for your mother to watch you walk up the stage and take your gradation paper and give your small speech that you had prepared so much for.

But she didn't show up..... no one did. So there you were in your small cap and gown giving thanks to people who weren't even there.....

You had taken pictures with your friends parents because you didn't have anyone else to take a picture with.

You didn't cry....maybe something had happened? You would be selfish to have gotten your feelings hurt over something as small as graduation if something bad had happened.

But as your friends parents drove you home you tried to think of everything bad that could've happened. Your mother surely wouldn't have forgotten...right?

You had reminded her so many times...she wouldn't have forgotten she never forgot anything that was about dick or Tim...so this had to be something traumatic..

Finally arriving into the manor you quickly thank your friends parents for the ride and hop out the car.

Finally in the house your eyes search everywhere for them...or more important your mother.

Finding her in the kitchen calmly drinking tea with a Tim, you breath a sigh of relief... she was okay..everything was okay.

Your relief doesn't last for long when you realize...everything's okay....why didn't she show up then?

You hesitatently walk up to her angry but trying not to show it.

"Mother....? Is everything okay?" Your voice is quiet almost a whisper you don't want Tim to hear you.

"Everything's fine." Your mother quickly brushes you off not even sparing you a glance.

She doesn't even notice your still in your cap and gown. No, Tim's the one that has to point it out.

"You graduated?" Tim asks in a stoic voice you can tell he doesn't even care.

You nod and look at your mother wanting to see her reaction... but she doesn't even have one.

"You were validatictorian?" Tim asks agian seeing the small medal wrapped around your neck .

You nod agian and look back at your mother but she continues sipping her tea looking at him. As if your not fucking there.

"That's cool.... it's pretty easy to get that though. I've already skipped a couple of grades. My teachers says that I'll definitely get validatictorian." Tim says and looks at your mother watching for a reaction just like you did.

But the difference? Is that she actually payed attention to him. She smiled a he spoke and looked at him with pride.

You wanted to smack Tim.

Of course he didn't have to stay up late studying like you did. He didn't have to ask for extra credits... like you did.

And of course he didn't have to work for your mother's attention like you did.

Because unlike for you..she actually cared for time.

She loved him...but not you.

Atleast not anymore.

Ignoring both of them you walk your preteen, heartbroken self up the stairs and into your room.

You wish you could tell that small girl to give up.

She'd never win her mother's love. You wish you could tell her that nomatter how long you study or act nice or train harder that her mother will never love her...

No, you wish you could her that her mother died the night she met Bruce Wayne...

But even if you did.. your preteen self would never believe you.

Your lay on the same small twin size mattress now. Three years later and yet you still feel the same.

But that would changed..it had to change.

And your not dumb. Atleast you don't consider yourself dumb. You know they're probably expecting you to leave.

You know they probably have all the cameras facing you window. And you know you can't just walk out the front door.

So you'll wait. You'll wait until the last minute when the sun is just barely above the horizon. And you'll go through the small vent in the laundry room. That only you know about....

You know kion said he'll wait for you until sunrise..but surely he'll wait a little longer..

Your bags under your bed it's already packed. There's not much that you packed anyway. You only packed the necessaries.

Clothes didn't really matter since your sure your father would make you burn them anyway. And you wouldn't need your phone or laptop. No, they'd be unused there.

So all you really have is your favorite stuffed animals and some pictures of your friends and jason.... and some of the books you and jason used to read.

You've already wrote letters to everyone saying your goodbyes. Some letters more detailed then others. Some with love and some with absolutely no emotion at all.

You watch as the clock hits 5am and you stand up setting the letter on your desk and grabbing your bag from under your bed.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder and quietly opening your door. You make your way down tha hall..

You walk passed Jason's room and everything in you is begging you to walk in and give him one last hug. To tell him that you love him one last time... but you can't.

You know you can't. Because your heart won't allow you to see him without not letting go.

So you continue your stride down the dark hall and down the stairs right into the laundry room...

Setting your bag down you carefully take off the small vent that you'll escape this prison from.

"No goodbye...?" A voice says.

You know that voice you know exactly who's voice that is. He's the only one that's went through this vent with you.

Of course he'd know you'd escape this way. Maybe you were dumb.....

And if his voice wasn't enough for you to recognize him the squeak from his cruches are as he inches closer. Because the joker fucking broke his legs...

His words are meant to be playful. To lighten the mood. But you catch the way his voice breaks slightly as he talks.

You freeze for a moment before you snap back to reality. You have to do this. You have to escape. You remind yourself.

So you continue removing the screws in the vent not daring to look at him.

"You should be asleep." You say and you know you shouldn't be so harsh with your words. These are your last moments with him....

"I'm not an idiot...I can't just let you leave." His voice is firm but it hard to take him seriously when his voice is so quiet.

You know he's looking at you and he wants you to look at him. So you stand from your squatting position.

Looking at him you don't remember him looking this small...maybe it's because of the crushes under his arms or his slightly bruised eyes...but it hurts to look at him.

"You promised you'd never leave me... you pinky promised." He says. His voice is so small and you can tell his voice still has that hint of baby tone despite him trying to hide it.

This was definitely going to hurt....

"Things are different now jaybird.... you gotta understand. "You say as you step closer. You want to hug him to tell him to go to bed and you'd be there later ,like you always do... but you can't.

Because for once you can't keep your pinky promise.....

"I ain't gotta understand nothing! You pinky swore.. You never break pinky promise...you taught me that...remember?" His voice is so hoarse like it almost pains him to talk.. and you feel the same way you did when kion was crying... useless.

"I remember jaybird....of course I remember.. but I gotta do this....for me..." Your words are true and......new?

You've never done anything for you.

Always for someone else. Always trying to please someone else...but now? You had to do this.. you had to put yourself first.

And looking into Jason's blue eyes you can tell he understands..like he always does.

And it makes your heart hurt more..

"Then take me with you."

You'd rather die then do that. Then take him away from somewhere safe..and take him somewhere you can't promise to keep him safe.

But you don't say that. So you settle for....

"Where I'm going...is only for me...it's not right for you..."

He looks down and you can see his small hands clenching into fist.

"One last hug?" He asks and you can tell he's given up. So you of course just like always fulfill his wishes.

Hugging him is different then hugging Kion... it's nice and comfortable... it's familiar.

Reluctantly you pull away... you don't have time to talk.. you have to get going.

He quickly wipes his eyes... and looks at you.

"If... if you go..I'll...I'll scream. Then everyone will wake up..."He says and is an empty threat. He probably wouldn't that.

"I'll be gone before they even get out the bed." You say and it's true. Your fast. Way faster then they are...especially in their sleepy state.

He sighs and you can tell..he knows this is it.

"Gotta go.." You say as you bend down and quickly kiss the top of his head like you've always done...he nods reluctantly and he doesn't even spare you a glance as you bend down to crawl your way through the vent.

"Sis....?" He says just before your about to go through the vent. And you turn back to look at him.

And you can tell the heartbroken look on his face will hauntyou forever.

"Yeah?" You say your voice just barely above a whisper.

"I love you. " such simple words..such normal words and yet they sting your heart.

"And I'll always love you. " That's it. Those are your final words before you crawl your way through the vent and out the other side.

You don't dare look back. There's nothing for you back there.

Atleast Not anymore.

Finally through the other side of the tunnel. Your quickly make your way out of the manor yard. Knowing all the blond spots of their camera system.

You make it to the town square fairley quickly and you reach the top of the tower where the Kion is waiting.

He smiles as he sees you. And you can tell he feels he's reliefed..

"I almost thought you wouldn't show.."

"Well,. I'm here..now..let's go." You say and he smile and a blue portal appears right infront of you two.

And it's the same portal that had brought you to gotham in the first place...

He reaches out silently asking for your hand. And you take his hand in yours and sigh. Your really doing this...

You look back and from here you can see the whole city..and the sun is coming over the horizon.

And for once... you finally see the beauty of Gotham......

But Kions voice brings you out of thoughts.

"Thank you sister...for choosing me." He says and he looks up at you with the same love that jason did...and for a moment it's like you see jason.

"Always..." Is your response and you don't know if thats entirely true...but you can't focus on what you said right now...

No, now all your focus is on the blue portal that Kion pulls you through.

...........Back at the manor.... the batfamily members came out of there hiding spots as soon as you left.

"You did it right todd?" Damians voice rings out. And jason flinches but nods.

"Yeah....I put it in her pocket when we hugged.." Jason's says quietly.

"You did good jason.." Bruce says as he puts his hand on jason shoulder in a 'im proud of you' way.

Jason nods still feeling sad that you had left, and your mother sees that..

"Don't worry jason...well find her..the tracking device Tim made will track her nomatter where she goes..." She says trying to offer comfort but jason doesn't budge.

"Yeah...Tim's tracking device better work though." Dick says almost glaring at Tim.

"It will...we had clark test it before. It works even in space." Tim says defensively.

"How long until the portal device can be used?" Your grandfather asks Bruce firmly wanting answers.

"We should have it ready by tomorrow." Bruce says just as firmly. Bruce can tell your grandfather blames this on him. And he can't deny that this is mostly on him.

"Good the sooner the better...." Your mother says trying to ease the tension between the two stubborn men....

And maybe you should've felt jason put the tracking device in your pocket...but I guess your just..... dumb?

Thanks for reading!! And I am not calling anyone dumb! So sorry if I offended anyone! 😔 😔 it's just for the fic.

Taglist: @dhanyasri , @kore-of-the-underworld , @i-adorehannah , @plsfckmedxddy , @phoenixgurl030 @bunbunboysworld @bat1212 @skepvids @sirenetheblogger @Nervousalpacalady @118gremlin @darktrashpoetry @bitternsweet @kksmush @awawage @coffeemin @feral-childs-word @cens0r3d @sweetprincesscomputer @exactlynumberonekryptonite @rosy-myhouse34 @hebaoffside @sheep-from-rad @time-shardz @vanessa-boo @jellyedkazoo @chinxinsomnia @sillysealsies @nervousalpacalady @gwyneveire @simpingpandas @butratherbutrather @urminebutidontwantyou

#batfamily x reader #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batsis reader #mk x dc #batfamily x batsis reader #mortal combat reader #yandere batfam x reader #neglected reader

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satorusugurugurl · 1 year ago

Text

Spot the Difference

Summary: You claim that you can tell whose who between your boyfriends. They decide to put you to the test.

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, AFAB!Reader

Warnings: smut, bondage, restraints, blindfold, oral sex (male receiving), pinv, unprotected sex, language

Word Count: 3,868

A/N: just a drabble! 💚

Several benefits come along with dating your best friends. Conversations were easy to have. Things were barely weird or awkward, and you knew each other like the back of your hand, from how you liked your coffee to your favorite snacks and meals. You knew your boyfriend so well, it was easy for you to tell them apart, even when you weren’t looking at them. That’s how close the three of you were.

“There’s no way you can tell them apart without seeing them,” Shoko called out as the four of you sat around the apartment.

“Yes, I can.”

“Both of them are muscular and over 6 feet tall. You think I believe you?”

“I’ll show you!” You grab one of Gojo’s blindfolds off the coffee table with your back turned to the group. “You two go to the kitchen and come back one at a time, and I’ll tell you who is who.”

Your partners were intrigued to see if you could tell them apart without looking at them. So they played along. Satoru was the first to come up behind. He rested his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist, gently squeezing you as he pulled you closer into his chest. While Suguru trailed his hands over your shoulders before gently running up and down your arms before they slid down to interlace with your fingers. The entire time he caressed you, his lips pressed gently against your temple. Once they each had a turn, they were back in their respective seats. You pulled the blindfold, tossing it onto the coffee table, and triumph

“Toru was the first, and Suguru was the second.”

Everyone stared at you long before Shoko scoffed, “I bet you could smell their cologne!” Both Satoru and Suguru exchanged looks with each other. Neither of them was wearing anything remotely close to that.

“Say what you want, but I know my boyfriends.”

Did you really know them? After that night, the duo made it their goal to see if you knew who was who and when your back was turned.

Geto snuck into the shower with you as you washed your face. His hands wrapped around you like Satoru had done the night before. With a grin, you lean back into his chest as you rinse the suds off your face. “Hi, Sugu.” While Satoru crawled into bed with you while you were napping, purposely laying on Suguru’s side, he pulled you close, careful not to say anything as you hummed, rubbing your hand over his arm wrapped around your waist. “Welcome home, Toru.”

They kept their antics up for over a week. Gently touching you from behind, snuggling, calling texting hell, they even switch their body wash and colognes around, and every time you knew who was who without hesitation, it was almost flattering to know you knew both of them so well. Still, it also made them curious to see to what extent you knew them.

Which was how you ended up, blindfolded, hands tied behind your back as you lay on the bed. Your arms were tied to each bed while you spread your legs as wide as possible. Your boyfriend stood at the head of the bed, taking your naked body sprawled out before them.

“Is there an early Christmas present in June?” You squirmed in anticipation, pressing your thighs together as you felt the bed dip as they both crawled near you. “Lucky me!”

“Nah, this is more of an experiment.”

“Oooh, kinky!”

Suguru scoffed, ruffling the top of your head. “Not like that; we wanted to play a guessing game saying that you know us so well.” You cooed, squirming a bit more.

“Still kinky.”

“We’re going to take turns fucking you, and you can guess who’s who by how we feel inside of you,” Satoru whispered in your ear.

“Pfft, easy money. What do I get if I win?”

“Uh, you get to cum.”

“Nah, fuck that, I know you guys have been testing me all week. I think I deserve more than an orgasm as a prize.”

Your partners hum, thinking for a moment before Suguru pulls his hand away from the top of your head. “How about we take you on a trip to Okinawa? I’ll book us at that resort we stayed in before.” Both you and Satoru nodded with excitement.

“Now that’s a reward!”

“A reward you’ll get if you can tell us apart.”

Satoru is the first to move, positioning himself between your legs as he slides the tip of his cock inside. You whine, arching your back as he continues pushing inside of you until he bottoms out. Suguru’s eyes are dark between both his partners, his cock throbbing as he wraps his hand around it, gently stroking it. The white-haired man is breathing, trying to make a sound so you don’t know that it’s him on top of you. But you seem so out of it, the loss of your side to enhancing the pleasure of gently into your cunt. His thrusts are sharp and deep, making sure to hit your g-spot with each drag of his velvety smooth shaft.

You moan lips, parting in a string of whispers as Toru grips your hips and one hand while the other covers his mouth as he fucks into you faster. You’re the only one moaning out as partners try to make it impossible for you to tell who is who. And listening to your moans and your moans alone makes the room hotter.

Your white-haired boyfriend is pulling all the way out before his hips forward. The wet squelching sounds of your pussy, join the sweet whines of your pleasure, making the erotic moment even sexier. While you lose yourself in the sensation of one of your boyfriends fucking into you, you never seem to notice them subtly changing position. Satoru is off to the side, groaning into his hand as Suguru picks up where his boyfriend left off.

The rough change of pace has your mouth falling. Your fingers try to grip the sheets underneath you, but you can’t reach them, so you dig your heels into the mattress, your toes curling. Seeing you lose control over yourself has Suguru covering his mouth with his elbow as his hand gropes your right breast, needing the soft flesh while his thumb rubs circles over your nipple.

“Nnngh!” You whimper, lifting your head, licking your side, searching for someone in the darkness. “Come back, I need you.” You beg into the room at Satoru, who is furiously jerking off at the sight of Suguru slamming his cock so deep into your tight cunt. “Oooh f—god! Fuck me, come back please!”

Satoru moves quietly, putting his cock next to your mouth. You jump at first, shocked by the warmth of the dribbling wet tip, probing at your lips. But you eagerly open your mouth, allowing it to slide in. Subaru dark brows knit together as he groans loudly into his elbow at the sight of Satoru biting down on his hand to prevent himself from moaning.

Both men aren’t sure how much longer they can hold out. The pleasure and eroticism of the whole situation are making their cocks throb as you gag and cry out around both of them as they fuck your pussy and your mouth as hard as they can. Both were chasing their orgasms while dragging you to the edge of your own with them.

Neither of them wants to stop, but they do. You gently tap his leg with your foot. He stops grabbing Satoru by his shoulder, pulling him back enough for his cock to pop out of your mouth. Both pant as you lick your lips, your chest heaving as you giggle breathlessly.

“As fun as this is, I want to hear your voices. So Satoru fuck my throat some more, and Suguru, go faster and harder.” As fast as they stopped, they picked up the pace even faster. They went back to filling both of your pretty wet holes.

Satoru is a whining mess. His cock is shoved down your throat while Sugueu is grabbing your hips fucking into your cervix as hard as he can. God, you were so good to them; you honestly did know them, and if that in itself wasn’t fucking hot, your crying out was even hotter!

“Haaah shit, fuck, you take it so good look how hot you are, sweetheart, choking on my cock. You’re gonna be a good girl. You’re gonna swallow every drop?”

“God, you’re so fucking hot, and you’re so fucking tight. My cock feels so good.” Hissing through his teeth, he brushes with his index finger. “Y-You’re convulsing, gripping my cock so tight, come on baby, you’re so close, cum for us!”

Between the friction and their nasty words, you cum, moaning around Satoru’s cock as you clench and twitch around Suguru’s. Your moans and trembling body have both your boyfriends cumming with you. Statoru’s cock is buried down your throat as his cum slides down it, causing tears to prick your eyes. While Suguru's hips buck faster and harder, ropes of his cum fill to the brim. But he doesn’t stop until his cock is over-sensitive, and he’s spent collapsing on top of you as Satoru pulls out, allowing you to breathe freely.

Swallow the cum; you pull away, gasping down air like it was water. You sigh in relief as Satoru unclasps the restraints around your wrists. The second you’re free, you yank Satoru down to snuggle with you and the still-recovering Suguru. Your hands gently play with both their heads. Fingers twirling around strands of white and black, winning groans of pleasure from both men. Only when Suguru feels like his soul has safely returned to his body does he lift his head to stare into your sleepy, spent eyes.

“How the hell were you able to tell who was who?”

“I just know my boys!” You giggle as he rolls his eyes, resting his head back on your bare breasts. “So, about that resort trip!”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3

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frownyalfred · 5 months ago

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"ok ok I'll shut up now" NOOOOO😭😭 you can't paint this image and then stop, please keep talking about Lois and Selina

"Looks like it's just me today," Selina said, giving Lois a wave as she descended the lobby steps. "Bruce got held up on some business. Sorry."

Lois raised an eyebrow. "Business, or business?"

"Business," Selina said, sounding amused. She was dressed down in a slip of a dress and large cat-eye sunglasses. Lois envied how easy she made it look; her own outfit was a hastily-tied oversized linen shirt and a pair of jeans she was already regretting.

"Funny," Lois said, "Clark also got called in a little while ago. More business."

"I figured," Selina said, eyeing her over her sunglasses. There was an awkward beat of silence. "So."

"So," Lois repeated.

"I don't usually like it when the men assume their girlfriends just magically get along," Selina said. She shrugged one thin shoulder. "But I have a feeling we will anyway."

Lois was secretly a little touched by that. And a little wary. There was still a part of her that couldn't believe Catwoman herself was grinning at her. And she regularly had drinks with Batman.

"So you're saying we should ditch the tour," Lois said, hoisting her tote bag up.

"I could be convinced," Selina replied, voice pitched a little lower. "You know, I heard this place has a nice spa."

"Oh," Lois said, "While I love leaning into the girlfriends-on-vacation stereotype, I don't think--"

"Don't think." Selina held up a slim black card to the light. "I snagged this from Bruce. It's on me. Or, more specifically, him."

Lois eyed the card in disbelief. "Really?"

"Really."

"Great," Lois said, making up her mind. "Let's go reinforce some stereotypes."

(line break)

Selina held out the champagne bottle, readjusting the napkin around the label. "Want some more?"

"If I have any more, I'm not getting off this chaise lounge," Lois said. When Selina's lips pursed, she held out her glass anyway. "Fine. It's not surprising, but -- you're a bit of a bad influence."

"Only with friends," Selina said, grinning. She topped off her own glass, sliding back onto the lounger next to Lois. "I'm guessing that means you don't want to go swimming?"

Lois glanced down at her swimsuit. They were dressed for it, after all. "I mean. Maybe after lunch?"

"Yeah," Selina said. She closed her eyes, stretching back on the lounger. Just like a -- "I'm a little sore. Maybe we'll give it a few hours."

Lois stared despite herself, noting the bruises across Selina's hips. "I like your bikini."

"Thanks," Selina said, eyes snapping open. "Bruce picked it out."

"Bruce's contributions are pretty obvious," Lois said, her tongue getting away from her. It was the three glasses of champagne.

"Heh," Selina said, catching her meaning immediately. Her fingers skimmed the strings of her bikini. "So that's not your thing?"

Lois flushed a little. "It's not. Not our thing."

"Is it your thing?" Selina asked, lips quirking.

"Clark is a gentleman," Lois defended, praying her husband was currently too busy with some galactic event to overhear. "And he's...very concerned about his strength."

"Mhm," Selina said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "I can see how that would be something you'd have to work around."

"What about you?" Lois deflected.

"What about what?" Selina asked, batting her eyelashes. Lois rolled her eyes, taking another sip from her glass.

"Is strength a concern?"

"Only in a good way," Selina purred. She downed her glass, waving at Lois as she swallowed. "But I get what you mean. Obviously scaled down a little. Bruce could snap me like a twig if he really wanted."

"Yeah," Lois said, trying not to imagine that in too much detail. "That's generally what Clark's worried about."

"But there's benefits," Selina said, clearly fishing. Lois flushed again, but held her gaze.

"Sure."

"Like...?"

Lois raised a brow. She could see how that expression would work on most people. Most, being the keyword. "I don't give up my sources that easily."

"What about a trade?" Selina asked.

#ok ok sorry i have to go to a meeting #micro fic #mini fic #selina kyle #catwoman #lois lane #clois #clark kent #batman #bruce wayne #dc #asks #myfic #anon #theresurrectionist #superman #batcat #whoops forgot to tag that

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rafessecret · 3 months ago

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I need a step!sister and rafe where rafe tells her to come onto toppers boat to hang out with him and his friends and while they are sitting on the boat step!sister is sitting or tanning on top of rafe and all rafes friends thinks it weird or something like that. Sort of a part 2 to the rafe friends fanfic

⋆˚࿔ step¡sister reader && rafe cameron

okay so I already posted a part two because I wrote it then seen this so sorry bit I guess this is kinda part three. ( pt.1 here and pt.2 here )

SUNKISSED SINS.

The sun beats down, the sky stretching endlessly above you, a deep, brilliant blue that mirrors the rolling waves. The gentle sway of Topper’s boat rocks beneath you, the scent of salt and sunscreen thick in the warm air. Rafe had been annoyingly persistent, insisting you come hang out today, and now you know why.

He’s smug beneath you, sprawled lazily against the boat’s cushioned seat, his arms draped along the back like he owns the entire ocean. And in a way, he does—owns this, owns you, at least in the way he watches you, in the way he orchestrates moments like these.

You shift slightly, adjusting your position in his lap, your thighs soft against the hard muscle of his. Your tiny bikini does little to cover you, leaving sun-warmed skin pressed to his bare chest, and you swear you feel his breath hitch against your back when you lean forward to grab your drink.

It’s not subtle. None of this is.

Kelce snorts from where he sits across from you, his sunglasses hiding his expression, but you can hear the disbelief in his voice. ❝Bro… What the actual fuck? Topper’s head tilts, a slow grin creeping onto his face as he glances between you and Rafe, his amusement laced with something sharper. ❝Are you two always this cosy?❞

Rafe just hums, completely at ease. His fingers skim the bare skin of your waist, barely-there touches that send a shiver down your spine, and he grins when he feels it. You don’t respond—just sip your drink, pretending you don’t hear the weight behind their words.

Topper scoffs, shaking his head as he leans back. ❝I mean, hey. If you want to get a little too close to your own stepsister, that’s your business. ❞

The air thickens, charged with something heady, something dangerous. Rafe exhales through his nose, his fingers twitching against you, but his voice remains smooth when he finally speaks. ❝Don’t be fucking weird, man.❞ Kelce lets out a low whistle, nudging Topper’s arm with a smirk. ❝Right. Because sitting on your lap in a fucking string bikini is totally normal. ❞

Your cheeks burn, embarrassment licking up your spine, but Rafe? Rafe just laughs, low and deep in your ear. He tilts his head slightly, his lips brushing your shoulder, a calculated move meant to be both protective and possessive all at once. ❝She’s comfortable with me,❞ he murmurs, voice like silk, but there’s an edge to it—a warning. ❝Not my fault you’re all obsessed.❞

Topper rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath, but he doesn’t push further. Kelce, though, watches with something unreadable behind his sunglasses, like he’s seeing straight through the act.

But no one says too much—not anymore. Not after last time, when Rafe had snapped, his temper fraying until it exploded in a way that left a bruise of silence over the group. No one wanted a repeat of that, the way he’d stood, the sharp, clipped way he’d spoken, voice laced with barely restrained fury. The way he’d reminded them all, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn’t to be questioned.

It doesn’t matter. Not when Rafe’s grip tightens ever so slightly on your waist, grounding you, making sure you don’t squirm away from him. Not when he’s radiating satisfaction, like he’s won some silent battle.

Like he always does. The conversation moves on, the tension dissipating into something more bearable, and eventually, the boys turn their attention elsewhere. Topper pulls out a speaker, cranking up the music, and Kelce starts passing out drinks, slipping back into the easy, careless vibe of a summer afternoon.

But Rafe? Rafe stays focused. You feel it in the way his fingers trace absentminded patterns against your skin, in the way he lets his thumb skim the curve of your hip as if he has every right to touch you like that. The worst part? You don’t stop him.

You don’t want to.

❝You look good like this, baby,❞ he murmurs, so low only you can hear. His voice is thick with something filthy, something indulgent. ❝Like you belong right here.❞ Your stomach clenches, a slow, unbearable warmth pooling between your thighs at the casual intimacy of it, at the way his breath feels against your neck. You don’t reply; just press your lips together, heart hammering against your ribs.

He notices.

Of course, he does.

Rafe chuckles, the sound rich and knowing, his hand sliding a little lower, pressing into the dip of your waist. ❝Relax,❞ he soothes, his tone dripping with amusement. ❝You’re so tense, pretty girl. They’re not saying shit anymore, are they? ❞ No. They aren’t. Not because they believe him, but because they know better.

And because Rafe made sure of it. The sun is starting to dip lower, the sky softening into a golden haze, casting warm light across the water. The ocean sparkles, and everything feels hazy, dreamlike, the summer heat pressing against your skin, making your limbs heavy and pliant.

You don’t resist when Rafe’s arm tightens around your waist, pulling you further into him, closer, until there’s nothing between you but the thin scraps of your swimsuit and the tension simmering beneath the surface.

He presses a lazy kiss against your shoulder, his lips curling against your skin. ❝That’s my girl.❞ And you can feel it—the way he smirks against you, the way he’s already thinking about the next time he’ll get to push that line even further.

Because Rafe always wins.

And you always let him.

── ⋆ 𝐲𝐚𝐩 : none of it matters when Rafe has her exactly where he wants. Possessive, smug, and just a little too comfortable with what they both pretend isn’t happening. His friends know better than to push too far after last time, but the weight of their stares is heavy, almost intoxicating. And Rafe? He loves it. Loves making sure she knows she’s his, loves how easily she melts into him, even when she shouldn't.

── ⋆ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : @scne-vampire

©RAFESSECRET ⋆˚࿔ est. 2025

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damneddamsy · 15 days ago

Text

falling | joel miller x fem!oc

E P I L O G U E

word count: 11,000 + warnings: literally all fluff. like painful, smothering fluff. Choking, blubbering, fitful angst. Sorry, not sorry. See you on the other side, everyone, hope you enjoyed 'Falling'!

The following is a series of artefacts belonging to JACKSON RESIDENTS recovered from their homes.

J. MILLER LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT - JACKSON, WY

If you’re reading this, or find this, I’m probably dead.

I’m okay with that. Would’ve preferred to go out old—grey-bearded, asleep on my porch swing in the summer, maybe a hundred and twenty with bad knees. Quietly. Got my fingers crossed, hoping that I do.

Because that ain’t how men like me go. I’ve lived hard. Killed more than I ever want to count. Broke things I couldn’t fix. And loved people I didn’t deserve. That’s the whole truth of it.

And now, sitting here writing this, I keep thinking about what the hell I’m really leaving behind. What is my legacy, anyway? Some folks leave behind land. Leela is going to leave behind her math and her inventions. Y’all’s names are clean enough to go on school buildings.

I live in a house that isn’t mine. My money’s long gone. And my name is a goddamn graveyard. So why am I doing this?

Look... I need you someone to know I tried.

I tried to be better. To build instead of destroy. To try love without losing control. I used to think all I was good for was surviving. Guarding. Holding the line until it all gave out. And yeah, maybe that was true once for a long time.

But then came my Ellie. Then came my Leela and my Maya.

I raised two three girls. THREE goddamn girls. More beautiful than me (thank god for that), more hardass-er than me, more stubborn than me, and that’s saying something. Ellie is the fire. Sarah was the storm, and Maya is the spring that comes after. I didn’t make them—but I kept them alive. Loved them the best way I knew how. Think I did a pretty good job.

That’s my legacy.

You can burn the rest of it. The guns, the patrol records, the guilt. Let it rot. The only thing worth anything now is what I loved.

Tommy. Maria. Brother, we never did things the easy way, did we? We fought like hell, and still came back. I know you two gave me a hard time some days, but you were the people I always knew had my six—whether I deserved it or not. Guess that's what siblings do. So don’t go getting all soft now. Just keep doing what you do best: being affectionate assholes and occasionally dumb as a pile of rocks. (Kidding. Mostly.)

Leela… darling, you had loved saved me. Over and over. By staying, letting me in, looking at me like I wasn’t the monster I saw in the mirror. You are my quiet, my reason, my damn backbone some days. I didn’t know it could be like that with someone. I didn’t ask you to forgive me, but you did it anyway, every time I came home to you a little more broken. I’m sorry for the parts of me I couldn’t fix. I know I said that too much—or not enough. Also—and I mean this with all the love in my tired bones—take your time, but don’t forget I’m waiting on those insane koftas over here. So when you finally get your fine ass to me… bring me some baharat (and those strappy little tops of yours because they really drive me wild.)

Ellie (hoping the above didn't throw you off, sorry). Here it is. I saved my world that day in the hospital. Yours. You. I’m not gonna pretend it was easy or righteous. It wasn’t. But I did it so you’d have more time with me—more chances to grow with me, laugh with me, hate me. I wanted that for you more than I ever wanted it for myself. I am sor I'd do it all over again. You might never have needed a father, but you got one anyway. You got me. And I’m proud of you, kiddo. Proud as one of your own. I LOVE YOU. There. I said it. I love you, Ellie.

And. Maya. Baby girl. If you’re reading this someday—well, shit, first off: did you get glasses? How else are you reading this with all that squinting? Eyes open, sweetheart. Ha, got you.

I want you to know it plain and simple: you are my everything. My girl. I loved you the moment you opened your eyes to me that night. You’re mine in every way that counts. Grow slow. There’s no prize for getting older, other than back pain. Be good—but not too good. Break some rules. No one likes a smartass. Don’t run too fast. Tie your shoes. Wear your damn socks, I MEAN IT. Don’t be scared of the world, even when it earns it. And take care of everyone, even when it hurts. And when you miss me (if you do), go sit with my guitar (be nice and share with Ellie). Sing to me. Hum. Cry. Talk out loud like I’m listening, because I swear I am.

I never had much. Still don’t. Got a couple of guitars, ammo, boots, a few busted knuckles, and a face that looks worse every year.

What I do have—what’s worth a damn—is all of you.

I was always the buffer. I thought that was the job. Keep everyone breathing, keep the world out. I don’t regret that. But it took me a long damn time to learn why I was doing it. It was never for survival.

It was for you. Always for you.

Signed, Joel Miller.

L. MILLER MAYA DEVELOPMENT LOG – VIDEO FILE #1 TIMESTAMP: 19:48 | Reed Residence, Living room SUBJECT: Maya Miller, aged 2 years, 5 months CAMERA: Tripod, static, handheld. Low lighting. Floor lamp turned on. NOTES: Observational recording for cognitive development + emotional awareness + language formulation.

[CAMERA CLICKS ON. The video begins with a slightly tilted angle. The couch sits behind them, a soft quilt thrown over the edge. A toy horse lies abandoned on the floor. The room is warmly lit. LEELA adjusts the lens, sitting cross-legged, her voice focused but affectionate. JOEL is off-screen, behind the camera. Both their voices carry the sleepiness of a late evening.]

LEELA (softly, almost to herself): Okay... steady. This is important. (adjusts the lens) This is the first video entry in Maya’s development log—

JOEL (from off-screen, dry): Which is entirely unnecessary, 'cause she’s got a brain like a bear trap.

LEELA (half smiling): This is to test her cognitive flexibility, emotional regulation, and social interaction—

JOEL: C’mon, sweetheart. Listen to yourself. She’s fine.

LEELA: (glances at him behind the camera) I need to know she’s normal, Joel. Not just sweet or clever. Normal brain functioning.

JOEL (pauses, then gentler): She’s a goddamn miracle, Leela. Beat me at cards yesterday. Straight face the whole time. You think I let her win? (mimics a girlish voice) “Go fish, Daddy.” She’s hustlin’ me already.

[LEELA exhales, lips twitching, and nods. She angles the camera a little to the left. The frame shifts. MAYA is now sitting on the rug beside her mother, wearing denim dungarees over a cotton shirt with a stitched grasshopper. She waves at the camera like she’s greeting a friend.]

MAYA: (sends a flying kiss.) Hi.

JOEL (laughs): Hi, baby.

LEELA (gently): Alright, there we go. Baby, what's your name?

MAYA: (pointing) Daddy, video.

LEELA: Yeah, he is. Can you say your name for the video?

MAYA (taps her chest): Maya. Maya, Maa-yaa.

LEELA (laughs): Okay. Hi, Maya. And what’s your full name?

MAYA (mumbles): Maya… Miller.

LEELA: That’s right. Good girl. Now—can you please look at Mama for a second while we talk?

[MAYA is fully occupied with the brass buckle on her dungaree strap. She keeps flipping it open, then closing it, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.]

MAYA (without looking up): I fix this first.

LEELA (gently redirecting): Hmm. But if Mama wants to talk to you first, what would the polite thing be?

MAYA (quietly): …Wude.

[She lets go of the buckle and looks up, her knees drawn close.]

MAYA: Okay. I listen now.

LEELA: Thank you, baby. Ready?

MAYA: Yup.

LEELA: How old are you, Maya?

[MAYA holds up two fingers. Then she thinks, frowns, and adds a third finger halfway. Then reconsiders and puts it down.]

LEELA: That’s right. Two, almost three. And what’s Daddy’s name?

MAYA (giggles): Ha-wd-ass.

LEELA (gasps): No!

JOEL: Gonna kill that little shit Tommy.

MAYA (with her fist in her mouth, grinning): Joel.

LEELA: Joel, right. Maya… can you tell me: have you ever been angry at Daddy before?

MAYA (quickly): No.

LEELA (tilts her head): Never ever?

MAYA (frowning): ...mm, he took me home from park. He—he said... no. (points to the door) We go home now.

JOEL (off-screen, defensive): Hey now—it was a hundred degrees. I didn’t want you melting out there.

LEELA (clears her throat): Alright. And what did you say when he said that we have to go home?

MAYA (matter-of-fact): I said “NO! Not going home.” Then Daddy pick me up. We go home.

LEELA: And then?

MAYA: Then I... cried.

JOEL (mutters): Meltdown.

LEELA (to Maya): And when you get upset like that... what helps you feel better, Maya? Do you want to run away, or—do you need to yell? Maybe throw something?

JOEL (warning tone): Leela.

LEELA (ignoring him, soft but intent): Or maybe… do you just need a hug? Do you want someone to hold you?

[MAYA pauses. Her fingers fidget. Her chin tucks slightly, and her voice is very small.]

MAYA: I need hugs.

[LEELA looks up at the camera now. Her expression is softer, more tired. Her hand rests on Maya’s back.]

LEELA (to camera): So—we’re observing that when Maya experiences emotional dysregulation, she doesn’t act out violently or retreat, but reaches for physical reassurance. (pause, voice softening) Which is… significantly better than what I feared.

[MAYA turns and throws herself into Leela’s lap.]

MAYA: I love hugging Daddy.

JOEL (gravel-voiced, warm): Right back at ya, baby girl.

[MAYA now leans sideways into Leela’s lap, visibly drowsier but still engaged. A thread from Leela’s jeans has caught her attention, and she tugs it gently. LEELA hums quietly, drawing her back into the moment.]

LEELA (sing-song): Maya… now, were you really angry at Daddy that time?

MAYA (shakes her head, thumb brushing her lip): No. I just… don’t wanna go home.

LEELA (empathetic): Oh, well, I understand that. If I were having fun and someone told me it was time to go? I’d be mad too.

MAYA (nodding): Yeah. I wanna play more.

LEELA: So, do you have a lot of friends? Is that why you don't like leaving?

[MAYA looks up for a second, big, brown eyes shining, then shakes her head.]

MAYA: No.

LEELA (gently): Then why do you want playtime?

MAYA: I like big sandbox. Ellie helps me on the slide.

LEELA: What about the other kids?

MAYA: Only me, mama.

[LEELA hums again, stroking her hair slowly. The thread is forgotten now. MAYA leans closer.]

JOEL: Now, she ain’t alone. Ellie’s there, I’m there. The other kids... they're just older. And there are no other kids like her in town.

LEELA (shoots him a look): Joel—you're confusing her.

JOEL (scoffs): Fine. Shuttin’ up.

LEELA (focuses on Maya again): And how does it make you feel, baby girl? When you're alone? Are you scared? Or angry?

[MAYA’s brows furrow. She picks at her sock this time, quieter.]

MAYA: Sad.

LEELA (slight shift in posture, softer): You feel sad? Do you feel sad a lot?

MAYA (tiny nod, small voice): Yeah. I cry.

LEELA (quietly, not alarmed, just listening): You cry a lot when you're sad? When Mama isn’t around?

MAYA (sniffles): Mhm. I don’t like alone.

LEELA: Oh, my love.

[MAYA's face twists, and she rubs at her eye. A pause. JOEL’s voice is low and irritated from behind the camera at the sight of her hurting.]

JOEL: Okay, stop. You’re upsettin’ her.

LEELA (shaking her head, gently): No, we’re understanding. (She turns back to Maya, her hand brushing through tangled curls.) She’s not upset. She’s being brave. Aren’t you, baby?

[MAYA’s eyes flick to LEELA’s. She nods faintly.]

MAYA: I wanna be brave. Like Daddy.

LEELA: And you are. Angry and sad make you brave and real. Real people feel things. And they cry. Even big people. Even Daddy... (stage-whispers) in the shower.

[MAYA lets out a little giggle through her tears.]

LEELA (tucking a strand of hair behind Maya’s ear): Baby, you know… if you ever feel like it got dark around you, you can tell us. If you’re mad, you can stomp your feet. If you’re sad, you can cry in my lap. You don’t have to hide it or hold it in your belly, okay?

[MAYA shakes her head firmly this time, her lip wobbling just slightly.]

MAYA: I don’t wanna be mad, Mama. Don’t like it.

LEELA: No, honey. It’s okay to be mad. I get mad. Daddy gets mad all the time.

[A brief, audible scoff from JOEL.]

JOEL: Yeah, alright.

LEELA (grinning): All the time. And when he does, what do we do?

MAYA (perking up): Time-out!

LEELA: Right. And do we yell at him?

MAYA (giggling): You hug him.

JOEL (mock indignation): It's brutal.

[LEELA laughs softly, then leans forward again, face almost fully in frame now. Her voice drops to that warm, instructional tone again.]

LEELA: So next time, baby, when you feel mad or sad... what do you do?

[MAYA’s brow knits as she thinks. Then her eyes brighten.]

MAYA (low to loud): I say, 'Mama, I'm sad.'

LEELA (laughing): Very good. And then what happens?

MAYA (repeating back): You hug me.

JOEL (quietly): Every single time.

[There’s a long, peaceful pause now. MAYA rests fully in Leela’s lap, three fingers in her mouth, eyelids fluttering closed. JOEL finally appears in frame again, crouching beside them. He presses a hand gently to Maya’s back and gives Leela a tired, fond look.]

JOEL (murmuring): We should probably stop here. She’s running on fumes.

LEELA (sighs): Yeah, okay. That concludes entry one—emotional processing and response. Maya is responsive to guided questioning, able to self-identify emotions, strong associative memory.

JOEL (grins at Maya): Translation: she’s a little miracle.

LEELA: She’s Maya.

[JOEL leans in, kisses the top of Leela’s head.]

JOEL: You’re doin’ real good, mama.

[LEELA swallows and nods, visibly emotional. She lifts her hand to turn off the camera.]

[CAMERA CLICKS OFF]

E. WILLIAMS TRAVEL LOG #2

(The camera jolts to life with a brief blur of sunlight. A rhythmic thud-thud-thud of hooves on dry dirt is heard beneath the image. The view steadies to show Ellie, sweat glinting on her brow, holding the camera at arm’s length. She squints at the screen, then grins.)

(Ellie, to camera) “Okay, we’re rolling. This is Travel Log number two—because apparently Leela thinks we’re NatGeo now.”

(She wipes sweat off her nose with the back of her arm, then flips the camera around. It bounces before settling on the riders behind her.)

(Ellie, off-screen) “Maya, say hi!”

(The camera catches a horse trotting beside Dina’s. Joel rides a little behind, Maya seated snugly in front of him on the saddle. Maya is grinning so wide it looks like her face might split open.)

“Hai!”

(Ellie laughing) “And how the hell are you outside of Jackson, missy?”

“’Cause Daddy let me. And now we’re gonna catch fish!”

“Oh yeah? Wanna tell everybody how old you are?”

(Maya proudly holds up three chubby fingers, but two of them are smushed together.) “I’m th-wee.”

(The camera pans shakily to Dina, who rides up alongside, squinting against the light. Her hair is pulled back to that familiar topknot, sweat matting her face.)

“And there’s my gorgeous girlfriend. Babe, say hi.”

(Dina groans, ducking her head.) “I look like shit.”

“Yeah, but like—hot shit.”

(Dina flips her off. Ellie cackles. The camera swerves toward Joel, who is too focused on keeping Maya safe and the horse steady.)

(Ellie snorts.) “Could be worse. Look at this dumbass.”

(Joel, gruffly) “You better get that thing outta my face.”

“No can do. I’m under strict orders. Your wife told me to document everything. I’m just being a good citizen.”

“Christ. Just watch your step, kiddo.”

(Ellie, to camera now) “So, for the record: We’re taking baby girl on a late fishing trip for her birthday, which was all the way back on Christmas. And—this is the troop.”

(The camera zooms in briefly on Maya, who is now humming some nonsense song and patting the saddle horn. Joel looks down at her, and for a second, the camera catches him smiling.)

(Ellie, softer) “Not bad, right?”

(Static crackle as the image shakes again. Ellie flips the camera back to herself.)

“Alright, let’s go catch some fuckin' fish.”

—

(The footage stutters into motion with a high-pitched whine of static. The screen shakes wildly for a moment—just flashes of sky, pine, and boot—and then jolts into focus. A rough hand fumbles across the lens. Joel grumbles.)

“How the hell do you—? Goddamnit.”

(He shifts the camera. The image stabilises. Now it’s looking out over a sunlit rocky ledge above a wide, glittering creek. Ellie, Dina, and Maya are perched in a row on the flat of a sun-warmed boulder. Three rods poke into the air, lines drifting lazily into the current. The only sound is birdsong, water, and distant giggling.)

“Ellie, keep your arms around her. She’s jumpy as a damn frog.”

(Ellie snickers.) “Relax, old man. I’ve got her.“ (Then to Maya:) “You’re good, gremlin. Just hold it still and wait.”

(Maya squeals, standing up.) “I saw a fish! I saw one!”

(Dina teases.) “You’ve said that like ten times.”

“This time it smiled at me!”

“Liar!”

(The camera zooms slightly. Joel’s breathing is close in the mic, still focused on the trio. Maya suddenly gasps and yanks her tiny rod.)

“Mine's moving! DINA, I GOT ONE! I—!”

(Her footing slips. She screams with a quick splash—then chaos.)

“Maya, no!”

(The camera jerks wildly—Joel’s dropped it. It lands half-sideways in the dirt, still rolling. We catch fractured glimpses: Dina throwing off her jacket, Ellie lunging forward, Joel already in motion, boots thundering past the lens.)

(Ellie hisses.) “Shit—Maya!”

(A splash. Then another. Then silence but for the rush of water and muffled voices underwater, distant and panicked. Joel's frantic voice is the loudest.)

“Maya! Maya, can you hear me?”

(No answer. Just the hiss of the creek and thrashing limbs. The lens catches the churn of boots and panicked motion, but no child. Ellie surfaces empty-handed, wiping water from her face. Dina calls out, chest-deep and scanning rocks.)

“Anything?”

“Nothing—babe, she was right here, she was right here—”

(The lens catches motion as Joel barrels downstream. The camera misses his face, but his actions are sharp, driven. He throws himself into the current, shoving aside reeds, slipping on wet stone. He shouts again.)

“Maya, just come up, baby! Listen to my voice!”

(Nothing. Just the creek roaring louder. Ellie glances toward the far bank, silent now. Dina exhales hard, treading water. It’s been a full minute now. Then two. And—Joel stops.)

(He buckles—doubles over with both hands on his knees, soaked to the chest, breathing too fast. For a second, he’s motionless, like this short-circuited inside him. He grips his thigh, grounding himself. Then, barely audible—)

“God, please… please.”

(Dina turns toward him, voice gentler now but firm, trying to cut through the spiral.)

“Hey—hey, Joel. Listen to me. It’s gonna be okay. We’ll split up. I’ll head up the rocks, Ellie’ll sweep back toward the reeds. You keep to the bend. Okay? We’ll find her.”

(Joel doesn’t respond. His hands twitch at his sides, clenched and unclenched. He’s not hearing her. Or he is, but it’s bouncing off armour.)

“I should’ve—fuck, I should’ve—I looked away, just, just one second—”

(Ellie moving closer.) “Joel. Joel. Look at me. It's fine.”

(She’s within arm’s reach now. His jaw is set, neck tight, eyes scanning but not seeing. Ellie softens.)

“She can't have gotten far. We find her. You with me?”

(He blinks hard—once, twice. His hand comes to his mouth like he’s trying to hold something in. Then hoarsely—)

“Not again. Not her. Not…”

(He trails off. He doesn’t finish the sentence. Ellie’s eyes flicker, understanding more than he says. Behind them, Dina is waist-deep and staring at the far downstream bend. Her hand goes up slowly, pointing.)

“Wait. Wait—do you—?”

(A faint, distant voice echoes from downstream—bright and bubbly.)

“Daddy, Dina! I got it! I got the fish!”

(Joel doesn’t move at first. His head lifts slowly, like he’s afraid to believe it. Then Ellie breaks into motion and he follows—trudging through water, stumbling once but not stopping. The camera is still skewed, but it catches a tiny shape emerging from the trees further downstream, waterlogged and barefoot, holding something overhead in both hands.)

“It was hiding! I chase it!”

(Joel’s breath catches. His arms drop slack, then he’s moving faster, boots pounding the muddy bank, sloshing up toward her.)

“Maya. C'mere, baby.”

(He drops to his knees in front of her, grabbing her by the shoulders and then crushes her into a hug, flapping fish and all. Maya giggles, not understanding the terror that had settled in his chest just moments ago.)

“You scared the hell outta me. Thought I lost you.”

“But I got it!”

(Joel clutches her closer, water dripping down his face—unclear if it’s from the river or his eyes. His voice is barely a breath now.)

“Don’t ever do that again. You hear me? Don’t ever…”

(He cuts himself off. Kisses the top of her head, pushing the wet hair off her cheeks and neck. Behind him, Dina rubs her face and exhales, laughing through leftover adrenaline. Ellie just drops backwards into the creek with a splash, limbs splayed like a starfish.)

(Ellie sighs and looks up to the sky.) “I'm never fuckin' babysitting this little demon again. Not without a goddamn leash.”

(Maya beams.) “I was tracking! It went under the rocks, so I had to go up the side like Dina said!”

(Joel shakes his head.) “Not without tellin’ me, you don’t.”

(Ellie picks up the camera—mud-smeared and dripping, but still running. She holds it at a crooked angle as the group sloshes back to shore, all soaked, all laughing in that shaky, post-crisis way. Joel’s doesn’t come yet—but he’s still holding Maya.)

“Update: Joel has aged twenty years. Maya met a fish. And none of us are allowed to breathe ever again.”

(Maya, off-camera, all chipper.) “I wanna swim!”

(All three, in perfect unison—)

“Nope.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Never happening.”

(The camera catches one last frame of Maya proudly cradling the flopping fish, her curls plastered to her forehead, Joel’s arm around her protectively. Ellie’s laughter trails off as the screen fades into soft static. Cut to black.)

J. MILLER HOME VIDEO #3

(Video begins mid-jostle. The camera is unsteady, jiggling as Joel tries to lift it above the crowd. Boots thump on the wooden floors, fiddle music screeches with jubilance. String lights swing in the rafters, and there’s distant whooping over the band’s tempo.)

(Joel’s voice mutters, amused.) “Can’t see nothin’ in this damn barn…”

(Camera finds its focus, finally sweeping over the packed dance floor, shakily pushing through arms, backs, and half-finished pints. Then the camera locks in on Maya, spinning into dizziness in the middle of the floor. She’s in denim overalls, her sleeves rolled, curly hair bouncing, boots two sizes too big. People are giving her space, clapping in rhythm.)

(Tommy, off-camera, hoots.) “Look at her go!”

(Maria coos, off to the side.) “Shit, I wanna bite her little face off.”

(Camera zooms and shakes slightly. Joel laughs.)

“Go on, baby girl!”

(Maya notices the camera. She gasps, hands on her cheeks like a cartoon character. Then waves with both hands.)

“Haiiii!”

(She dashes forward, expertly weaving between dancers, laughing the whole time. Camera wobbles as she leaps at Joel, arms flung wide.)

“Let me hold it! I wanna be the camera girl!”

“You got butterfingers. This thing’s older than Ellie.”

(Maya whines, bouncing in protest. Joel tips the camera up and away as she tries to jump for it. A waitress sidesteps her, chuckling. Joel lowers the lens, steadies it again.)

“C’mon, help me find your mama. She better not be—”

(Sudden distant yell.)

“WOOOOOO!”

(Camera swings wildly again—searching. Finally, it lands: Leela, up near the band. Her cowboy hat's tipped too far back, one boot missing, one boot on. She’s shimmying with total abandon to the beat, singing along loud and off-key to a song she clearly doesn’t know.)

(Tommy cackles.) “'S happened again.”

(Joel groans. The camera jolts down, then upward—now Tommy is holding it, laughing breathlessly.)

“Grab it. I gotta go fix this.”

(Tommy lifts the camera to zoom in as Joel pushes through the crowd. Ellie briefly appears beside Tommy, leaning in to whisper.)

“Is that one boot on, one boot off? Iconic.”

(Maria snorts.) “She drinking out of her boot?”

(Camera zooms in—Leela indeed holds a boot like a goblet, sloshing something suspiciously dark and fizzy inside. She twirls—and nearly slips.)

(Joel reaches her just in time. He grabs her arm with both hands. Leela gasps, delighted.)

“There he is! Husbaaaaand.”

(Joel is clearly trying not to laugh.) “You stink.”

(Leela puts on a fake cowboy accent.) “That’s called love, darlin’.”

(Her arms loop around his neck, hat slipping to one side, planting a kiss on his mouth. Joel—half laughing, half exasperated—obliges, but only briefly before pulling back.)

“You’re gonna break your neck out here.”

(She sways her hips in an invitation.) “Dance with me, Daddy.”

(Ellie groans from off-camera.) “Ew, what the fuck?”

(Joel groans, pinches the bridge of his nose. Crowd laughter builds in the background.)

“Jesus, don’t call me that in public. You’re gonna confuse the hell outta people.”

(She uses a finger to beckon him.) “C’mon.”

(He plants both hands gently on her waist to steady her.) “You gotta sober up, sweetheart. You already lost a boot.”

(She pouts. He sighs. Then offers his hand.)

“Just one.”

(The music softens into a slower tune—harmonica over strings. Leela leans into Joel, wrapping her arms around his neck like a sleepy kid. They sway awkwardly. One-booted. Out of time. Joel mutters something we can’t hear. Leela giggles like it’s the funniest thing in the world.)

(Camera pans down: her bare foot rests on his boot. He just lets her lean.)

(Ellie whispers nearby.) “Stop filming. They’re so gross.”

(Tommy snickers.) “They’re happy.”

(In the far right of the frame, Maya appears again, now holding Ellie’s hand and tugging hard.)

“Dance with me, Ellie, c'mon!”

(Leela turns mid-dance and waves dramatically at Maya, then does a very poor spin that nearly sends her into a table. Joel catches her mid-fall and dips her, exaggerated, one arm around her waist. She shrieks with laughter.)

(Camera pulls back. The saloon lights flicker overhead. Everyone around them is dancing, drunk, or both. It’s messy and warm and joyful—a pause in the noise of survival.)

(Frame lingers on Joel and Leela, pressed close. He murmurs something into her hair. She closes her eyes. The song fades to the final note—violin and steel guitar.)

TELEPHONE RECORDING #1 DATE: SEP. 26TH | TIME: 04:03 A.M. LINE: INTERNAL, JACKSON, WY PARTICIPANTS: J. MILLER, L. MILLER, M. MILLER

[Distant, metallic click. Faint static hum. A long pause. Then—a shrill ring, not the synthetic tone of modern cellphones, but an old, analogue bell. Faint rustling. Something thuds lightly against wood—maybe a hand fumbling in the dark.]

J.M. (groggy, disoriented): …the hell…?

[Rustling sheets. A creak of the bedframe. He fumbles for something in the dark.]

J.M: …No way.

[Another ring. Then a hesitant click as he answers. Silence.]

L.M. (warm, amused): Hi, can I speak with the birthday boy, please?

[Long silence. A faint creak.]

J.M. (cautious, stunned): Leela?

L.M. (giggles): Joel. Can you hear me?

J.M: I’m not dead, am I? It’s four in the damn morning… and the phone that’s sounds like a death knell just rang.

L.M. (sing-song): Surprise!

[A beat. Then, Joel exhales a sharp, stunned laugh. Fabric shifts as he sits up.]

J.M: Holy shit. Leela. Darlin’… Holy shit. This is real.

L.M. (whispers): Happy birthday.

J.M (laughs again): I—I can’t even wrap my head around this. You’re on the phone. Like actual… static and everything. How the hell’d you pull this off?

L.M: Well... I rewired the internal comms grid. Boosted a small solar cell relay through the southern outpost lines. Then I cross-fed it into the restored switchboard. Et voila, eight months later, it works just in time.

J.M: …Y'know, I only caught about two words of that, right?

L.M. (smiling through): I said I missed your voice.

J.M: Goddamn. All that for a call to me?

L.M. (gently teasing): You’re not that hard to miss. But yeah… first working phone in Jackson. Figured it should go to the man who hates birthdays and attention. Two birds.

J.M. (grinning now): You gonna make the whole town use this thing?

L.M: Eventually. For now, I serve as both operator and technician. Thought I’d test the system on someone who doesn’t mind me, er.... rambling.

J.M: That right? Hell, I’d listen to you read out the damn dictionary, baby. You always made even the hard shit sound soft.

L.M.: Don’t go sweet-talking me now. It’s your birthday. I should be the one getting all the mushy.

J.M. (lower, softer): You already gave me everything I wanted.

[A faint click in the background—a loose wire, or a shift in signal. Then Joel clears his throat, as if trying to recover.]

J.M: So tell me—now that I’ve got you on the line… You reckon this thing could handle what the kids used to call phone sex?

L.M. (incredulous laugh): Joel!

J.M.: Come on, darlin’. I’m just sayin’—voice like yours in my ear? Might short out the tower.

L.M.: Stop. I’m recording this call for research.

J.M.: Whatever. I’m the birthday boy. I get one pass.

[They both laugh. Then, a faint stirring. A tiny yawn. The faintest whimper.]

M.M. (sleepy): Daddy…?

J.M.: Hold on. Trouble’s wakin’ up.

[He shifts. The mattress creaks. A soft scritch of his beard brushing her cheek. A kiss to her forehead.]

J.M. (instantly gentle): Hi, baby girl. You’re okay. It’s just the phone.

M.M.: Phone?

[Joel adjusts—the rustle of movement, soft fabric, a creaking mattress. Then, the faint sound of a small body being shifted, carefully.]

J.M.: Here. I want you to listen to someone special.

[Receiver shifts slightly. Then—]

M.M. (suspiciously): Mama?

L.M. (audible intake of breath, voice trembling slightly): Hi, baby girl. Hello.

M.M. (in awe): Are you inside the... box?

L.M. (chuckling): Sort of. The box can carry voices through the wires and air.

M.M. (gasps): It’s a magic box!

J.M.: Damn right it is. First call of the new world, and it went to you.

M.M.: Mama… where are you?

L.M.: Still right here, baby. Just downstairs, in the hall. But this box lets me kiss you goodnight without moving.

M.M. (soft giggle): It is magic.

[A tiny yawn. Then the gentle shuffling of her curling into Joel’s chest. The receiver shifts again.]

J.M. (hushed): She’s driftin’. You still there?

L.M. (sniffles): Always. Did you like your surprise?

J.M. (low chuckle): No phone sex? Hardly a surprise.

L.M.: Your daughter is literally five inches from your face.

J.M. (snickers): And you’re missin’ five inches in yours.

L.M. (shocked gasp): Joel, what is wrong with—

J.M. (grinning): You made it too easy. Alright, I love you. Now hang up… and come over here.

L.M. (quiet smile in her voice): You hang up.

J.M.: Mm-mm. Not playin’ this game, darlin’. Been dead for twenty years, I intend to keep it that way.

[Silence lingers. Then—]

L.M. (whispered): Good night, birthday boy. See you in a minute.

J.M. (just above a murmur): Night, baby.

[Click. The line goes dead. Faint hum fades out.]

E. WILLIAMS HOME VIDEO #16

(The footage opens with a bit of bounce—someone's adjusting the handheld camera. There is a gentle sound of cards shuffling. Ellie is clearly behind the camera. Her steps are slow as she moves into view of the dining table, where Tommy sits across from Maya, elbows on the table, scattered with half-finished custard, eyes narrowed in concentration.)

(Ellie, off-camera, voice playful) “Alright, it’s dead silent in here. What’s goin’ on? Poker night?”

(Tommy, gruffly, not looking up) “It’s war.”

“With a three-year-old?”

“She’s up four hands and counting. I ain’t here to play. I’m here to win back my dignity.”

(The camera pans to Maya, sitting squarely in Leela’s lap, her tiny brows furrowed, lips pursed. The cards look enormous in her little hands, but she’s manoeuvring them with sharp, deliberate movements. Leela’s not helping—just holding her arms up as Maya goes through them.)

(Maya, serious, without looking up) “Your turn, Uncle Tommy.”

“I know, kid. I know. Just thinkin’.”

“Don’t think too long. That’s how Daddy lost.”

(A beat. Then a snort of laughter from Ellie.) “Oh my god. Joel lost to Maya. Comedy gold.”

(The camera zooms in a little as Tommy lays down his card—then, slowly, Maya lays hers. A moment passes. Tommy exhales through his nose.)

“Son of a—”

(Maya squeals, grinning wide.) “Yay! Mine’s bigger!”

(Tommy grumbles.) “Damn right it is.”

(Leela gently warns) “Maya…”

(Maya is still triumphant.) “I said bigger. Not a bad word, mama.”

(Ellie, laughing) “I dunno, Tommy. You sure you’re not lettin’ her win?”

(Tommy holds up both hands.) “You see me foldin’? Hell no. She’s counting cards. I ain’t got a chance.”

(Maya, too gleeful) “That’s ‘cause I remeh-mber them.”

(The camera wobbles as Ellie doubles over laughing. Tommy just leans back in his chair, pretending to wipe sweat from his brow.)

“Leela, honey, what are you feedin’ your child? We all get the same goddamn rations.”

(Leela with a small smile) “Books. Puzzles. Joel.”

(Ellie heaves a breath.) “Well, that explains the poker face.”

(The camera zooms once more on Maya, who now holds up her cards dramatically toward the lens, fanned out—wrong side forward.)

(She stage-whispers to the camera.) “No one can sh-top me.”

(Tommy shakes his head.) “I gotta start cheating.”

“That’s against the ruuuuules.”

(Leela giggles.) “Tommy, she will never let you live it down.”

(The camera lingers on Maya’s proud little face, cheeks puffed out as she shuffles her cards again—badly, sloppily, adorably. Leela helps guide her fingers, whispering numbers, which Maya repeats under her breath. Across the table, Tommy looks both defeated and weirdly proud.)

(A beat. Then, off-camera, Joel’s voice cuts in—gentle, curious.)

“You wanna be like your mama when you grow up, baby?”

(Maya pauses mid-shuffle. The cards slip out of her hands and scatter. Her eyes go wide—and then she lets out a shy giggle, immediately burying her face in Leela’s chest.)

“Mmm…”

(Leela laughs softly and brushes back Maya’s curls.) “What? What is it?”

(She kisses the top of Maya’s head. Just then—sharp, tinny brrrring! cuts through the moment—the patched-up rotary phone on the wall rings. Everyone in the room glances over, startled.)

(Maya gasps, squealing) “Aaaah! I got it! I got it, I got it!”

(She scrambles to her feet, almost tripping on her feet, and makes a beeline for the phone. Joel chuckles and reaches out instinctively to steady her as she races past.)

“Easy, trouble.”

(She hops up on the table by the wall, lifting the receiver with both hands like it’s treasure. Maya speaks in a serious tone, copying someone she has seen.)

“Jackson outpost. Maya speakin’.”

(Leela hides a laugh behind her hand. Ellie is already zooming the camera in as Tommy leans forward, amused.)

“Aw hell—she’s got a job now?”

(Maya, now pressing the receiver to her ear, trying to sound official) “Okay. Uh-huh. You got it. I tell Uncle Tommy. Stand by!”

(She covers the receiver with her hand and turns to Tommy with wide eyes.)

“Uncle Tommy, they sayin' the lookout spotted smoke near the ridge. You check it now.”

(Tommy is laughing but impressed.) “Well damn. Alright, little ranger. I’ll suit up. Thanks for the heads up.”

(Maya beams proudly and puts the phone down, then turns back to the group, chest puffed a little.)

(Ellie, mock-serious) “That’s it. She’s taking my side gig. I’m retiring.”

(Joel grins at Ellie behind the camera.) “Gotta get her her own call sign. Radio girl’s gonna run Jackson by ten.”

(Leela pulls Maya back into her lap.) “Where’d you learn to talk like that, huh?”

“I listen when you think I’m sleepin’.”

(Joel snorts.) “'Course she does.”

(Tommy raises his glass.) “To the youngest scout we got.”

“Maya Miller: card shark, signal scout, future queen of the airwaves.”

(Laughter ripples through the room. The camera catches Maya grinning bashfully, resettled between Leela’s arms, stacking her scattered cards again. A brief static flickers as the camera feed fades to black.)

M. MILLER RADIO RECORDING #48

[The broadcast crackles in—a gentle hum of wind in the background, maybe the faint clatter of boots on wood outside. Maya, aged TEN, runs the radio station in the mornings. A little jingle—probably something she made herself with Ellie’s help—plays, made up of a few clunky guitar notes and a whistle.]

M.M. (bright, chipper): “Goooood morning, Jackson! It's 7 a.m., the sun is shining, the wind is definitely tryna blow the roof off the stables, and you're tuned in to our very own radio station with your friendly neighbourhood deejay, Maya Miller, keeping you company as we ride out another day in paradise.”

[Short laugh—a little dry, but charming.]

M.M: “Okay, okay—maybe not paradise. But hey, it’s home. And here in Jackson, we’ve got chickens that lay, fences that hold, and people that don't give two shits about my radio station. That’s more than most.”

[A page rustles. She taps her book—maybe a list.]

M.M: “We’re keepin’ it light today, folks. A couple of songs, a couple of stories, maybe one or two terrible jokes if you're lucky, thanks to Ellie. And if you're tuning in from the outer fields, the boiler room, or the patrol tower—this one's for you.”

[Pause—her tone quiets, like remembering a note.]

M.M: “Oh! Big shout-out to Kenan at the forge. They just finished another batch of those wicked-sharp hatchets. If you scored one before the morning shift, buy 'em a cider at the Tipsy Bison. Or—I mean, at least carry their woodpile for a week.”

[She laughs, a little sheepish now.]

M.M: “And... yeah, I know it’s been a little rough out there lately. More sightings than usual. One of the patrols spotted a runner near the Gulch—again. But look—we’re still here. Still standing. Still singin’.”

[A breath, then her voice perks back up.]

MAYA: “Alright, alright, no more of that serious stuff. That’s not what you tuned in for. Let’s play something for Bill, who requested ‘Mr. Sandman’—says it reminds him of ‘before.’ I don’t know if that’s sweet or depressing, but I’m rollin’ with it.”

[‘Mr. Sandman’ begins to play softly underneath.]

MAYA: “This one’s for you, Bill. And for anyone else out there, remembering a time when the world made a little more sense. You’re not alone. And hey, if anybody wants to drop in and say 'hi', I'm right by the main hall, and it's a pretty sweet setup. I don't bite. Anymore. I promise.”

[Music fades back, plays for a few moments, then cuts softly as the mic picks up again.]

MAYA (a little mischievous): “Alright, folks, you’re in for a treat. We’ve got a very special guest in the booth today. Resident genius and best mom in the world. Wanna say hi?”

LEELA (off-mic at first, reluctant): “Uh. I’m Leela. Her—your mother. Hi.”

MAYA: “Hi, Mama.”

LEELA (dryly): “You forgot your lunch bag. Again.”

MAYA: “I was... on the air. Y’know. Broadcasting to the entire colony. Essential work.”

LEELA: “Mhm. Well, now your sandwich is cold. Again. Good luck with that.”

MAYA (laughing): “Wait! Wait. Sit down. Just one question. It’s a good one.”

LEELA (sighs): “Maya, I’ve got to look at the turbines at the dam today—”

MAYA: “Please. Please-please-please! C’mon. For the people.”

LEELA (defeated): “Fine.”

MAYA (suddenly mock-serious): “Okay, Jackson, here’s today’s philosophical corner: If you could say one thing to someone or something you’ve lost—what would it be?”

[Silence for a second. Then, deadpan:]

MAYA (hisses): “Mama, you have to answer.”

LEELA (after a pause, dryly): “To someone I’ve lost? …I’d probably have a word or two with my patience. Wherever it went. Please come back.”

[MAYA snorts with laughter.]

LEELA (murmuring): “And now I really do have to go.”

MAYA: “You’re the worst.”

[A kiss lands audibly—Leela kisses the top of Maya’s head, just off-mic.]

LEELA (softly, already stepping away): “Have a great day. I love you, baby.”

[The door clicks. Faint sounds of her leaving — boots on wood, the wind again. Then silence. Maya exhales like she’s trying not to smile.]

MAYA (quietly, into the mic): “She says that every time, like she doesn’t mean it. But she does. Every single word.”

[She clears her throat.]

MAYA: “Okay, back to the music before I start cryin' on air. This next one’s for y'all weirdos with too many feelings. Stay safe, stay sharp, and stay with me.”

[The song fades in.]

L. MILLER MAYA DEVELOPMENT LOG – AUDIO FILE #12 TIMESTAMP: 11:03 | Reed Residence, Dining room SUBJECT: Maya Miller, aged 3 years, 8 months NOTES: Observational recording for emotional awareness _ identity formation.

(Soft rustle. The recorder clicks on. Leela's voice enters soft, tired, but affectionate, as though she’s easing into the moment.)

“Development log twelve. Maya, aged three years and nine months. Today I want to check in on Maya’s social-emotional patterns—how she plays, how she relates to other kids. Observation notes: Today, she built a “rocket ship fort” with our laundry basket. Declared herself commander. Declared Ellie the alien. She delegated roles. Pretty assertively.”

(There’s a quiet chuckle from Leela, followed by a long exhale.)

“It’s been... remarkable, watching her become her own person. She’s started giving things names. Stories. Feelings. People. I just want to see where her head’s at.”

(She sets something down, the soft clatter of a ceramic mug. Then gently—)

“Hey, baby girl. You wanna come sit with Mama for a second?”

(There’s the sound of soft running feet on hardwood, followed by a tiny huff of breath as Maya sits down. Fabric rustles. Maya’s voice is sweet and happy.)

“I was building a big zoo for you, mama.”

“A zoo? Wow. What animals did you put in it?”

“Three horses, one tiger, two bunnies, and a T-Rex.”

(Leela laughs.) “Now that’s a very inclusive zoo.”

(A pause. Then, casually but purposeful—) “Maya, can you tell me about your friends? Who do you play with the most?”

(Maya, without missing a beat) “Carter.”

“Oh, he's a nice boy. Remind me, who's Carter?”

“Silly.” (She hums.) “He lives next door!”

“Mhm. And what’s Carter like?”

“He’s funny. He let me use his green crayon even though it's his favourite. And he pushed me on the swing so high I almost touched the sun!”

(Leela, gently teasing) “You have a lot of fun together?”

(Maya giggles.) “He’s my boyfwen.”

(There’s a beat of silence. A soft click as Leela sets down her pen.)

(Leela sounds more careful than amused.) “He's your boyfriend?”

“Uh-huh. He shared. And I kissed him on the cheek. So now we’re... boyfwen and girlfwen.”

(Leela’s quiet laugh slips out—surprised, warm.) “And how did he feel about that?”

(Maya, cheerfully) “He said I smelled like apples.”

“That’s a pretty sweet thing to say.”

(Then her tone shifts—slower now. She softens it without losing the thread, like a hand on Maya’s back.)

“Baby, can we talk about something important?”

“'Kay.”

“You know how hugs and kisses and holding hands can feel really nice, right?”

“Yeah. I go like this—mwah!”

(There's a small pause.) “But you always get to choose. Nobody gets to touch you unless you want them to.”

“Mhm.”

“And if someone ever tries, and it makes your tummy feel funny, like a scared feeling, or like you want to get away—you tell Mama. Or Daddy. Or anyone in your family.”

(Maya, quietly) “Even if they’re nice?”

“Even if they’re really nice. If you don’t feel good about it, that’s enough. Your body is yours.”

(There’s a pause, like Maya is working it out in her head. Something taps gently—Maya’s fingers on the table, maybe. Then her voice returns, brighter again.)

“But I wanted to give him kiss, mama.”

“That’s okay. It’s good when you want to. That’s how we know something feels right. But you should know it’s always okay to say no, too. Even to kisses. Even to Carter.”

(Maya hums, a beat later) “What if I change my mind?”

“Exactly. Then you say, “No, thank you.” And he has to listen. And if he doesn’t, you come straight to me, alright?”

“I think he listens.”

“Then he’s being a good friend. That’s what matters most. Being safe and kind.”

(Silence. Then—)

“Mama?”

“Yeah, baby.”

(Her voice is shy.) “Can I kiss you?”

(Leela laughs, breath catching a little—caught off guard.) “Of course you can. Gimme a big one.”

(A pause. A kiss lands—a loud little mwah. Then giggles.)

“You smell like Daddy.”

“And you smell like apples. Go on now, go build your big zoo.”

(Tiny footsteps patter away. The door creaks faintly. The room settles. The faint hiss of the windchime and the occasional tick of the cooling kettle fill the space. Then—soft, almost absent-minded—Leela begins speaking again.)

“Um, well... Maya shows increasing um, verbal complexity in social interactions. She uses ownership language—“my boyfriend,” “my zoo”—which aligns with expected identity formation at her... stage. Shows initiative in emotional reciprocity—physical affection, shared play, verbal acknowledgement of care...”

(She takes a quiet breath, then shifts.)

“Omigod... what happens when those interactions aren’t safe? When someone nice isn’t good?”

(Another breath. This one is shakier.)

“I don’t know how to teach my daughter the difference between fear and instinct without giving her...” (A soft gulp.) “...my history. I don’t want her carrying mine. I want her to know the world. But how do you prepare someone for what you survived, without letting that become the shadow they grow up under?

(A long pause.)

“My baby, she’s so soft. And that’s a miracle. I didn’t know softness could survive me. I didn’t know I could still hold it, let alone raise it.”

(Her voice lowers again, almost as if she’s talking only to herself.)

“I watch her love so freely, and it's starting to terrify me again. Because there’s always this part of me that thinks: someone's going to take it. But another part, the one that clings to Joel, assures me that she's safe. Maya knows how her father is and how a person should be.”

(Silence. Then, quietly, with that same gentle steadiness she gives to Maya—)

“She knows she can say no, and that she can run home to me. That’s… a start.”

(Click.)

M. MILLER RADIO RECORDING #49

[Mid-broadcast—music fades out. The soft hum of the station returns.]

MAYA (into the mic, mock-serious): “And that was Fleetwood Mac for the third time this week because apparently we are a town of heartbreakers. Thanks for the request, Esteban—erm, next time, maybe something that doesn’t make me want to bash my head against the wall for two hours.”

[She shuffles a cassette case, clicks it shut.]

[The studio door creaks open. Footsteps, then a long, familiar sigh as someone flops down onto a chair.]

ELLIE (off-mic, relaxed): “Damn, it’s cosy up in here. Look at this! Did you get new pillows? Wait, that one's mine.”

MAYA (groans): “Oh no. No, no, no. Ellie—you’re not cleared for entrance. You gotta go.”

ELLIE (snorts): “Relax. I’m just hangin’ out. You got snacks? You always got snacks. Leela's fuckin' sinful pretzels.”

MAYA: “This is a professional environment. You can’t just—”

ELLIE (into the mic, sing-song): “Psh, you're like ten. Did your professional environment know you’ve got a boyfriend who—”

MAYA (shrieks, cuts her off): “NOPE. Nope. Don’t you dare! You always do this! Get out!”

ELLIE (cackling): “What! I didn’t even say—Carter!—Come and—ow, hey!”

MAYA (wrestling for the mic): “Get! Out!”

[There’s a scuffle, laughter, the sound of a chair scraping back. Ellie’s voice is fading as she’s being half-dragged.]

ELLIE (calling out): “He sees her through his window, Joel’s gonna—!”

MAYA: “OH MY GOD!”

[Just as Ellie is shoved out the door—]

MARIA (stern, from the hall): “Girls. Too loud.”

[Silence. The studio door eases shut.]

MAYA (breathing hard, mutters): “…Gonna kill her.”

[She takes a second. Then clears her throat and speaks calmly into the mic again, regaining her radio persona like nothing happened.]

MAYA: “Apologies for the brief turbulence. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programme. Here’s one for anyone with nosy sisters and no locks on their doors. This is ‘Don’t Stand So Close to Me.’”

[Music kicks in—The Police.]

MILLER HOME VIDEO #16

(The footage starts mid-motion—jostled slightly as someone fumbles with the handstraps. A soft clatter in the background, tools on wood. The screen settles, coming into focus on Joel at his workbench, his head bowed, the muscles in his forearm taut as he files the edge of a half-finished guitar body. Sunlight spills across his shoulders. There’s a quiet hum in the room: dust in the air, the faint buzz of wind outside, the rasp of wood shaving down.)

(Leela, off-camera, dryly amused) “You done pretending I’m not here?”

(Joel doesn’t look up. His voice is slow, roughened with focus.) “If you’re filmin’ me again, I’m chargin’ a fee.”

“Mm. That so? Well, I've got money to spare.” (A pause as she zooms slightly, catching the flex of his hand as he turns the wood. She goes into a deep voice.) “Joel Miller. Documented in the wild. In his natural habitat. Look at the precision. The grace. The muscle.”

(Joel snorts. Still doesn’t look up.) “For real?”

(She laughs quietly behind the camera.) “I wish I were more artistic.”

(He finally lifts his gaze, catches her through the lens, then returns to his work with a little shake of his head.)

“You are. You just get mad when it ain’t perfect.” (A beat. Then he sets the file down, reaching up to flick the collar of his flannel toward the camera.) “Like this. Tell me this ain’t art.”

(The camera zooms in. There, stitched along the collar’s edge in slightly uneven thread, is a pair of deer antlers—wobbly, charming, clearly handmade.)

(Leela laughs.) “That was not for public display!”

“Too late. It’s on record now.” (He grins, clearly enjoying himself, and lifts his palm next—dark ink visible along the base of his thumb.) “And this?”

(Camera focuses on his outstretched palm. A swirl of dark brown ink stains the skin—rust-colored henna, slightly cracked with drying. The design isn’t excellent, but in the centre are the small, careful initials: L & J. The camera dips just as quick.)

“Ugh, you're proving my point. It looks terrible.”

(Joel studies it for a moment.) “Looks perfect to me. Show me yours.”

(The shot wobbles as Joel takes the camera gently. A moment of black, then the image refocuses—now it’s Leela in frame, sitting cross-legged on the floor, light pooling behind her in the corner of the woodshop. She gives a reluctant grin, her hands resting in her lap, then slowly lifts them.)

“Happy?”

“Look at that. Real pretty. Like you.”

(Camera zooms. Her palms are detailed with dark henna—delicate vines, tiny dots like stars, and soft spirals, uneven in some places but clearly done with care. Her ring sits amid it, gleaming bright against her skin.)

(Joel’s voice is soft behind the lens.) “What’s this called again?”

“Henna.”

“Right, henna. And you did this because...?”

(She gives him a pointed look.) “Because I got married.”

“That you did.” (A pause, then:) “Poor bastard.”

(Leela laughs and throws a scrap of fabric at the camera.)

(Joel lowers the camera a bit, just enough to see more of her—not posing, just being.) “And in two days. I get to see all this goodness in a pretty white dress.”

“If you shave a little.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“And wear a tux.”

“Now that’s pushin’ it.”

(She tilts her head, lips pushed to a frown.)

(Joel clucks his tongue.) “We’re not even having a real ceremony, baby. Just some pictures. No one’s wearin’ a damn tux.”

(She narrows her eyes playfully.) “Then why should I wear a dress?”

(Joel pauses.) “Don’t, then. Even better.”

(Leela looks away, but her mouth curves.) “Put the camera away, Joel.”

(A beat. Joel mumbles something inaudible to catch.)

(She gasps.) “Turn it off! You can't just say that while—”

(She exhales a quiet laugh, then reaches toward the lens—fingers outstretched. The footage shudders as the camera is lowered, turned. Just before the image cuts out, there’s a blurred shot of Joel’s boots stepping toward her.)

—

(The footage flickers back on. The camera shifts wildly at first—then it steadies, slightly tilted, capturing a low, intimate view of the workshop floor. The frame settles on Leela.)

(She’s sitting with her back against the wood-panelled wall, knees drawn up, a guitar resting haphazardly in her lap. Her hair is tousled, her nightdress clinging loosely with two buttons undone and one sleeve halfway off her shoulder. There’s a lazy satisfaction in her posture, it's obvious—she is freshly fucked. She’s grinning, biting her kiss-bitten bottom lip as she awkwardly tries to strum.)

(She nods to the camera.) “Nice, you turned it on. Say it again for me.”

(Joel, off-camera, voice sheepish) “You wish. I turned it on because future historians are gonna know what beautiful means.”

“Uh-uh. You have to say it. For the record.”

“There ain’t gonna be a record. This thing’ll get eaten by squirrels or somethin’.”

“You just said—”

“Changed my mind.”

(She laughs, eyes flicking up toward the lens, fingers still plucking uncertainly at the strings.)

“So, Joel said—and I quote—‘If I die, you have my blessing to move on, but not to someone with bad grammar or a weak chin.’”

“I was jokin’.”

“No, no. This is legal documentation now. You’re on record.”

“Fine. You got it on tape. But it’s a one-way deal. No replacements. I die, you mourn forever. Become a ghost widow or some shit.”

(Leela snorts. She strums a wrong chord and winces.) “You really think I’d let you die?”

“You plan on goin’ first?”

“Someone’s got to make you dinner in the afterlife.”

(Joel sighs.) “Hate it when you talk like that.”

(She softens then, gaze dropping back to the strings. Her voice stays light, but there's something underneath it—like the edge of a sigh.)

“You’re not gonna die anytime soon, Joel. Remember your guarantee?”

(He grumbles.) “Hundred-and-twenty years. No refunds.”

“Precisely. You’re only halfway through.”

“Still got time to pick up bad habits.”

(Leela flashes him a smile.) “You already did. Me.”

(There’s a beat of silence. You can hear Joel shift off-camera, maybe leaning closer. When he speaks, it’s warm, almost shy.)

“At least I get a cute girl outta the deal. And then some.”

“And I haven’t even started greying yet.”

“You won’t. Not for another decade. Still a damn teenybopper.”

“Right, right. I’m seventeen, Maya doesn’t exist, and I met you at my high school prom.”

“That’d explain the dress this weekend.”

“It has stars on it. Maya drew it.”

“Look, I’m livin�� long enough to see that girl bring home some cocky little bastard, and when they knock on our door, I’m gonna be sittin’ there with this guitar, cleanin’ it like it’s a shotgun.”

(Leela breaks into quiet, delighted laughter, leaning her head back against the wall. Her fingers fall still on the strings. She looks up at the camera and lifts one brow.)

“Will you at least put on your shirt first?”

“Hell no. Ruins my intimidation tactic.”

(She groans, mock-horrified. The camera tilts just slightly as Joel chuckles, and the screen catches a blurry glimpse of his knee before the feed goes shaky.)

“Alright, movie star. Gimme that thing before I start filming your bald spot.”

“Such a little—”

(A blurry shot of her smirk as he dodges a playful swipe. Then—black.)

M. MILLER RADIO RECORDING #50

[The last notes of a mellow track fade out—Simon & Garfunkel’s 'The Only Living Boy in New York.' The needle lifts. A breath of quiet static. Then, Maya’s voice, soft and clear through the mic.]

MAYA (into the mic, thoughtful): “Going along with our question for the day... I always wonder what the old world felt like. It's something I lost. Y’know, the one before the fences and the patrol schedules and the rules about not going past the orchard without a grown-up.”

“My dad and mom—they tell me stories. Sometimes funny ones. Like the time Daddy got stuck in this thing called an elevator and thought he was gonna spend the rest of his life in there.” [laughs quietly]

“And sometimes they tell me the coolest stuff. Like—did you know Leela Miller was supposed to inherit a jet? One of those fast-flying things that important people used to ride in. A private jet, she said. With soft chairs and teeny-tiny pretzels. You should’ve seen Daddy’s face when she told me. He just went real quiet and blinked a bunch.”

[Her voice quietens.] “Sometimes the stories are sad, though. Ellie told me once about the stars and how people used to ride rockets into space. She said if she had the chance, she’d go straight to the moon and never look back. I didn’t even know the moon was close enough to touch.”

[A soft pause. You can hear her thumb tap the desk, just once.]

“And every Thursday, I help my ma make dinner. It’s, like, our thing. She says people used to do that—pass down recipes and stories while peeling potatoes or whatever. Last week, we made these round stuffed cookie sandwiches called Oreos. Black and white. Sounded fancy. Tasted like… chalk? Ugh.” (giggles) “I don’t know why people were obsessed with them. Daddy ate five just to prove he liked them. Then he made this face like he’d swallowed his boot.”

“And then there were the M&Ms. Uncle Tommy found this old sealed jar when he was out on patrol. Tiny little colours, all shiny like beads. I thought they’d taste like cardboard. But… they didn’t. They melted in my mouth. Like, hmm… I don’t know. Crunchy happiness? I didn’t even care if they were a hundred years old. I wanted three more jars.”

[Her voice quiets. More space between words now.]

“Sometimes… I think I’m never gonna know what that world felt like. The one with school buses, and oh! These ice cream trucks that played music? With movie theatres and cereal aisles that go on forever. Where you could drive a car just because you felt like it. And move to a whole continent in a few hours.”

“I live in a world of rationed rice. And fences. And watchtowers. A world where you grow what you eat. And you don’t go out unless you have to...”

“But it’s not all bad.”

[She inhales, like she’s grounding herself in the now.]

“It’s actually kinda nice here. I wake up and check the berry bushes with Mama. I get to see the horses every day with Ellie. I help Daddy in the shop—he lets me sand the soft wood and shows me how to oil the hinges so they don’t squeak. When we walk through town, people wave. They know my name. The Miller kid.”

[A beat. Then she smiles, almost audibly.]

“Maybe the old world’s gone. But this one’s still growing, right?”

[She hesitates. Then leans a little closer to the mic. Her voice goes small—sincere.]

“If I ever had to pick between all the shiny stuff, the Oreos and M&Ms, the old world… or having this, my family, the lake, and my town?”

“I’d pick this. Every time.”

[There’s a quiet moment—just the hum of the equipment and a flick of a switch.]

MAYA (soft): “This next one goes out to anyone who's building something new in a world that’s still figuring itself out. Hang in there. Here’s “Here Comes the Sun” by The Beatles. Stay warm, Jackson.”

[Music begins.]

T. MILLER HOME VIDEO #3

(The frame opens with a slow zoom onto Joel, standing in front of a small bedroom mirror, trying—and failing—to get his cufflinks to sit right. The golden sun highlights the pressed lines of Joel's jacket. Tommy's teasing voice comes from behind the camera.)

“Look at that. Goddamn. Joel Miller in a tux. I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

(Joel doesn’t look up. Just mutters a curse under his breath and keeps wrestling with the cuff.) “Terrible timing.”

“Oh, c’mon. Give us a spin, would ya?”

(Joel doesn't even glance over.) “Fuck off.”

(Tommy chuckles behind the camera. The lens zooms in—just slightly too close—as Joel adjusts his tie. The suit fits better than expected: crisp, black with a subtle grey lining. He looks good, clean, handsome, and uncomfortable. Someone has ironed the outlaw right off him. He finally gets the tie straight, eyes narrowing at his own reflection like it just insulted him.)

(Tommy, drawling, mock-formal) “Big brother’s gettin’ married today. Real event of the year.”

(Joel continued centring his tie.) “It ain’t a wedding. It’s pictures.”

(Tommy ignores him.) “There’s a bride. There’s a groom. She’s in white. You’re in a tux. There are rings involved.”

(Joel snorts. He fiddles with the small boutonniere Maria had pinned to the lapel earlier. It’s a single thistle and a white wildflower. Subtle.)

“Ain’t about the pictures or the suit. I… wanted a day that Maya could remember. So that’s what we’re doin’.”

“That’s a wedding, dumbass.”

(Joel gives him a look. The kind that would’ve stopped most people from speaking again. Tommy is not most people.)

“If you fuck this up for me, I am puttin’ your head through a goddamn wall.”

(The camera pans awkwardly to the bed, where Maya, three years old, is sitting cross-legged in a blue dress with a sash, hugging her stuffed bear. Her hair is braided in two neat ropes on her shoulders. She’s watching Joel with the kind of reverence only little kids have for their dads.)

“Hey, squirt. You seen your mama?”

(Maya beams at the camera.) “Yeah, she looks like a pin-cess. She got tattoo on her hands, and flowers in her hair...”

(She falls back onto the bed, kicking her feet in glee. Joel turns at the sound, a smile creeping over his face.)

“Well, now I gotta see her.”

(From off-frame, a calm voice answers, warm and amused—)

“Look no further.”

(The camera swings again, a little too fast, before it steadies—catching Leela standing in the doorway. She’s radiant in a simple flared white dress, tea-length with delicate lace sleeves. Her long braid is swept over one shoulder, tucked with tiny wildflowers. A string of pearls graces her neck, and white heels click softly on the floorboards as she steps in. She’s not done up like a fairy tale—she’s real, alive, smiling, glowing like one.)

(She smooths a hand down her stomach.) “Is it fine?”

(Joel doesn’t say anything at first. He just stares. His brow softens. One hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, the way he does when words fail him.)

“You look...” (He exhales a short breath through his nose, still watching her like she’s walked out of a dream.) “Yeah, darlin'. Yeah, you look... more than fine.”

(Then he snaps his fingers at Tommy without breaking eye contact.)

“Out. Take baby girl with you.”

(Tommy groans.) “Aw, c’mon, Joel. Get a grip.”

“Get. Out.”

(Maya squeals as Tommy dutifully scoops her up. The camera jostles a little. A final glimpse of Joel reaching for Leela’s hand before the door begins to close.)

(Maya, off-camera, giggling) “Bye, Mama! Bye, Daddy!”

(Just before the recording cuts, there’s a quiet moment—Leela stepping close, Joel’s hand brushing along her waist, his head dipping against hers, and the soft click of the door behind them.)

M. MILLER RADIO RECORDING #51

[The tape clicks on—there's a fuzzy hum of silence, then the creak of a stool. Maya exhales. She’s clearly resting her chin in her hand, voice small and low.]

M.M (quietly): ...you're tuned in with me, Maya, where the stars are out and everyone else is asleep. Except me. And maybe that one rooster that doesn’t understand how time works.

[A pause. The chair creaks again. She exhales, this time longer. Her voice grows softer—almost like she’s talking to herself now.]

M.M: No one came down here tonight. Not even... Carter. And he said he would. Boys are so dumb. (Then quickly:) Also, he's not my boyfriend! I hate his stupid guts!

[A long silence. Just the faint sound of a wire humming. Then, her voice, low and a little sad—]

I guess... if anyone’s still listening… thank you. [Her voice tightens. She’s holding something back. Then—] Okay. That’s enough sadness. Up next is the sound of me flipping through my songbook until I find something good.

[Just as she starts to rustle the pages, there’s a knock. Soft, deliberate. Her head lifts slightly. Another knock. Then Joel’s voice—]

J.M. (off-mic, gentle): Hey.

M.M (muffled, burying her face in her arms): Hi.

J.M.: How'd it go today?

M.M: Super. No one came. Or called.

J.M.: I came.

MAYA: You don’t count.

[A beat. The floor creaks as he steps inside, sits beside her. A long silence between them—companionable. Then—]

J.M: Well. You sure do like talkin’, huh?

[Maya mock gasps—like he’s insulted her most grievously.]

MAYA: Dad. Talking is important.

J.M. (teasing): Didn’t say it wasn’t. Just wonderin’... you ever run outta words?

MAYA (proudly): Nope. Never. Not even once.

[Joel lets out a low chuckle.]

J.M: Alright. But why the radio? What is it, your diary?

[Pause. Her tone pivots—still Maya, still full of sunshine, but now there’s a thoughtfulness underneath. Like she’s been waiting for someone to ask.]

MAYA: No. Because it’s... magic. You talk... and the words go somewhere. You don’t know where or who’s listenin’. But it’s out there.

[Beat. The chair creaks as she swings her feet.]

Mama said sound keeps goin’ even after we stop hearin’ it. Maybe it bounces off the sky or floats forever in space.

[She lowers her voice now—a hush, like telling a secret.]

So what if someone’s out there in our town, and what if they’re sad and alone... and then poof, they hear my voice. They know I’m real.

[Joel doesn’t answer for a second. You can hear the emotion get caught somewhere between silence and breath.]

J.M. (soft): That’s a mighty big heart you got.

MAYA (shrugs): It’s just talking.

J.M: Nah... ’S more than that.

[A rustle—Joel moves closer, maybe rests a hand on her head. His voice lowers.]

J.M.: Why don’t I answer your question tonight?

[A soft shuffle—maybe she’s lifting her head just slightly.]

MAYA: You will?

J.M: Shoot.

MAYA (a little more awake): Um... today it was: if you could say one thing to someone or something you lost… what would you say?

[Joel doesn’t answer right away. The mic hums gently. When he speaks, it’s soft—like he’s not sure she should hear it, but says it anyway.]

J.M: I’d say… I’m still here. Still tryin’. Doin’ better. And I’d say I love you very much. Took me a while to come back. (A pause.) That’s all.

MAYA (humming): Was it… a person? Or your guitar?

J.M (snorts softly): Ain’t the guitar.

MAYA (after a beat): Then I think I know who she is.

[He doesn’t deny it.]

J.M.: You got a song picked out?

MAYA: Not really.

J.M. (with a little smile): Well, you know mine.

MAYA (grinning): Future Days?

J.M: Mind if I play it?

MAYA: Well, no one's listening to put up with your singing anyway. Go ahead.

J.M: Smartass.

[He reaches for the old guitar case he brought with him—the latch clicks faintly. The strings hum as he tunes without thinking, hands practised, voice low.]

J.M. (gravel-voiced, playful): “This next one’s for the late-night crew. All one and a half of you.”

MAYA (giggles): Hey!

[He starts to play. A few soft, familiar chords. The mic catches it, carries it. Maya leans into his side. You can hear the soft brush of her hair against his jacket. Her voice, sleepy now.]

MAYA: Thanks for coming down here, Daddy.

J.M (quietly): Always will, darlin’.

[The song fades in.]

PHOTO LOG — SPRING | “Unwedding” Filed: L. MILLER, personal archive Roll #03, camera serial A-081 [TRIPOD RECORDING – VIDEO & STILL INTERVAL] CAMERA: ACTIVE

Frame 001

JOEL & LEELA, centre frame. They’re standing side by side in front of the big white house. Leela holds a handful of clipped sunflowers from her garden, stems wet and crooked. She’s smiling widely, the grin still growing. Joel gives the camera a suspicious look, then manages a half-smile, awkward, slightly off-centre.

ELLIE (offscreen, yelling): Joel, your face looks like you just stepped on a nail. Try smiling like you love her!

JOEL (grumbling): I do love her.

ELLIE: Then tell your dumb mouth.

Frame 002

JOEL & LEELA, closer. Joel’s arm slips around her waist, tugging her toward him. She stumbles into him, laughing, and the sunflowers drag a streak of yellow pollen down the front of his jacket. He scowls. She looks up at him, still laughing.

LEELA (cowboy accent): Guess I done marked you there, partner.

JOEL: Been doin’ that since day one.

Frame 003

JOEL, LEELA, & ELLIE. Ellie jumps into the frame, arms around their shoulders. She’s in a wrinkled black suit with a bright red tie, hair slicked back in a ponytail. Leela clutches Ellie’s hand with a smile that softens her whole face. Joel’s attention has shifted—he’s not looking at the camera anymore, just at Ellie, and there's something proud and bone-deep in the way he’s smiling down at her.

Frame 004

JOEL, TOMMY, LEELA, & MARIA. They’re bunched close, like they’re about to break into a group prayer or a brawl. Maria has her arm around Leela’s waist. Joel stands slightly behind, one hand on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy’s got his eyes closed like he’s already regretting whatever Joel’s about to say.

JOEL (murmured): Don’t you dare put your scaly ass lips near my wife again.

TOMMY (winking at Leela): I got one more kiss left in me.

LEELA (laughs): Me, too.

JOEL: Don't encourage him, honey.

MARIA: Shut the fuck up and smile.

Frame 005

MAYA. She stands in the front lawn by her swingset, a sunflower tucked behind her ear, grinning so wide her cheeks nearly touch her eyes. She frames her chin with her little hands, posing like someone’s taught her pageantry. Her gaze is angled up—someone tall, probably Joel, is just off-frame.

Frame 006

JOEL & TOMMY. They're in a mild standoff, both half-turned toward each other and toward the camera, bickering with their eyebrows.

TOMMY: You go left. I go right.

JOEL: You ain’t ever been right.

Frame 007

MARIA & TOMMY. Maria’s head is thrown back in a real laugh, eyes crinkling. Tommy’s kissed her cheek mid-frame, smug. His tie’s crooked. Her blouse is wrinkled. They look like the only people who didn’t try and still somehow got it right.

Frame 008

TOMMY & MAYA. He crouches beside her, both of them duck-pouting for the camera. Maya quickly throws up bunny ears behind his head just as the shutter clicks.

TOMMY (growls): Little nightmare. C'mere, I'll yank your nose out. Can't have one good photo.

[MAYA squeals, running off.]

Frame 009

ELLIE & MAYA. Ellie lifts Maya up at the waist, both laughing like they’ve just shared a secret. Maya’s braid is lopsided now. Ellie's hair is blown upward by the wind. They don’t care; they erupt into laughter.

Frame 010

JOEL, LEELA, & MAYA. The final frame lingers. Joel holds Maya in his arms, her small hands looped loosely around his neck, her cheek tucked against his shoulder. His other arm is around Leela, drawing her in without hesitation. She leans into him, one hand resting gently over his heart, holding it there, the wood-and-gold ring twinkling in the sun. Joel doesn’t smile often, but he does here. It’s lopsided and big. It took a long road to arrive at this moment.

L. MILLER MAYA DEVELOPMENT LOG – AUDIO FILE #117 October 3rd, 10:12 P.M.

(Soft click. A breath. Fabric rustles. Distant sound of wind chimes, maybe a creaky chair.)

“Okay. Six years, four months.”

“Maya asked me today if the sky always looked this old. And I didn’t know what to tell her.” (She laughs.) “I am still thinking about it. She is absolutely incredible. Now I know how my parents felt.”

“She’s... sharp lately. Surpasses me in all ways. Picks up on patterns faster than I can redirect her. Her brain is restless—it wants to devour everything. Maps. Fire. Roots. Words she’s not ready for. Words I wasn’t ready to hear her say.”

“Transcend. Refract. Exquisite. And, ugh, gross. Which she gets from Ellie.”

“She is Joel’s mirror. Her eye-roll, the little tilt of her head, the way she leans. She wears his old shirts, tucked into her jeans, sleeves all rolled up. She still bolts out the front door at exactly four every afternoon, barefoot if I don’t catch her, just to meet him halfway, and grabs his bag like it’s hers to carry. She sings with him now, plays guitar with him, little fingers on the frets. She even talks with that same Texas drawl of his.”

“She’s started naming weather. Not just clouds, but moods—“grump-storm,” “whisper rain,” “sun that’s pretending.” I think it’s how she handles the chaos. Which makes sense. It’s how I handled mine.”

(A beat passes.)

“I have decided that this is the last one. The last log. Not because she’s finished—well, she’s just getting started—but because I think she’s moving beyond me. And that’s the point, isn’t it?”

“My brilliant baby girl doesn’t need me to define her anymore. She’s learning what kind of person she wants to be. All I ever wanted was to get her this far. Alive. Unbroken. Curious. Aspiring. And so damn beautiful.”

“I think… I think I did that.”

(A brief rustling, a soft clink of glass—maybe a whiskey. Quite out of character for Leela.)

“As for me...” (She clears her throat. A chair creaks as she leans back.)

“I’m still working. I finished my notes on the zeta convergence problem last week—well, finished for now. There’s a ceiling I keep hitting, but I’m trying to trick myself into thinking it’s just another kind of symmetry.”

“I never thought I’d leave anything behind of mine own that mattered. But lately, I’ve been helping Jackson map our winter grid—energy storage with the lightning battery, food supply routes, even water rationing patterns. We’re building a resilience plan that doesn’t rely on luck anymore. A bunch of futurists here.”

(She exhales.) “I drew up the town’s first curriculum guidelines last month—basic logic, analytic equations, geometry... Maria says we’re going to turn the old sawmill into a school next year. Joel says if I make him teach fractions, he’ll fake his own death.”

(A small laugh. She lets it fade.)

“But I think he’s proud. Quietly. Of me.”

(And here—she gets a little softer, thoughtful, speaking more to herself now.)

“I don’t know if any of this will last. The world still breaks more than it builds. But maybe we leave behind, um... enough blueprints. Enough questions. Enough people who believe something good is possible.”

(Silence, just the faint hum of wind outside. Then—)

“I keep the hard math separate from the home stuff. Thanks to my handy chore chart. Usually. But sometimes—like today—I sit at the window with my pen, and I think about proof, and beauty, and entropy, and how somehow we still made this little family work. Even after everything.”

(Beat. She takes a sip. The glass touches the table again.)

“I mean, I still get the nightmares. Can't stop it. Not every night, but some. Sometimes I wake up with the scream still stuck in my chest. Sometimes I can’t get near my daughter's room without remembering what was done to me. What I survived.”

“But I’m doing better than I ever was. I don’t flinch as often when Joel touches me. I like taking walks around Jackson with Maria. I like to listen to people talk. Sometimes I visit Joel at the contracting yard, just to wake him up a little. I still freeze when I smell bleach, but I tell myself I’m safe, Maya is safe, and sometimes it even works. And when it doesn’t... he holds me through it. No questions or pushing. Just waits for me to fall asleep, and is awake before I am to reassure me that I didn't disappear.”

(Her voice softens here—full, held together like something precious she doesn't want to break just by saying it aloud.)

“Being with Joel is... loving a faultline. It is too silent, too deep, and it waits there. Ancient. Worn. Presence over promise. There’s something in him that bends toward my grief without being afraid of it. He just knows it’s there.”

(A soft breath, like she’s amazed by her own truth.)

“I think I love him more now because I know he’s seen the worst of me. And somehow he still leaves coffee by my nightstand every morning and kisses me like I’m his gift.”

(A faint, amused exhale—almost a laugh. She sniffles.)

“God, I sound so corny. He’d tease the hell out of me for this.”

“I never thought I’d have this. But then Joel knocked on my door one night, and everything began again. I’m... still learning how to let myself have that. Which is the hardest goddamn part. Belonging.”

(She sighs.) “Anyway... that’s the... my everything for now.”

“Joel’s downstairs—hinge number six. Maya’s his shadow, as always. I’ll go to them in a minute.”

“If I never say anything else—let this be the one that stays. I'm still here. I’ll hold onto this as long as the world lets me.”

[Click.]

I think it took me a really long time to post this because I had to say goodbye. To everyone who made it this far, thank you. What a wild journey this has been! Round two starts here -> FALLING masterlist Or if you're interested in something else, it's here -> DAMS main masterlist

{taglist (my literal family) 🫶: @darknight3904 , @guiltyasdave , @letsgobarbs , @helskemes , @jodiswiftle , @tinawantstobeadoll , @bergamote-catsandbooks , @cheekychaos28 , @randofantfic , @justagalwhowrites , @emerald-evans , @amyispxnk , @corazondebeskar-reads , @wildemaven , @tuquoquebrute , @elli3williams , @bluemusickid , @bumblepony , @legoemma , @chantelle-mh , @heartlessvirgo , @possiblyafangirl , @pedropascalsbbg , @oolongreads -> @kaseynsfws , @prose-before-hoes , @kateg88 , @laliceee , @escaping-reality8 , @mystickittytaco , @penvisions , @elliaze , @eviispunk , @lola-lola-lola , @peepawispunk , @sarahhxx03 , @julielightwood , @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi , @arten1234 , @jhiddles03 , @everinlove , @nobodycanknoww , @ashleyfilm , @rainbowcosmicchaos , @i-howl-like-a-wolf-at-the-moon , @orcasoul , @nunya7394 , @noisynightmarepoetry , @picketniffler , @ameagrice , @mojaveghst , @dinomecanico , @guelyury , @staytrueblue , @queenb-42069 , @suzysface , @btskzfav , @ali-in-w0nderland , @ashhlsstuff , @devotedlypaleluminary , @sagexsenorita , @serenadingtigers , @yourgirlcin , @henrywintersgun , @jadagirl15 , @misshoneypaper , @lunnaisjustvibing , @enchantingchildkitten , @senhoritamayblog , @isla-finke-blog , @millercontracting , @tinawantstobeadoll , @funerals-with-cake , @txlady37 , @inasunlitroom , @clya4 , @callmebyyournick-name , @axshadows , @littlemissoblivious } - thank you!! awwwww we're like a little family <3

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novvabee · 7 months ago

Text

"Honey, I Cut My Hair."

so this is totally not inspired by what i did a couple nights ago.... anyways.

poly!marauders x reader where she cuts her hair impulsively

cw: razor and scissors, nerves and anxiety?, suggestive at the end i guess, dont do this.

word count: 1K its really short... like my hair now

Watching the locks of hair fall into the sink. The quiet shhkk sshhhhk the scissors make when you slide them through your hair. The way the razor pulls down, gliding along smoothly.

It had all become too much. The semester was wrapping up, you had to study for your NEWTS, had three papers to write for history of magic, a potions project, and to top it all off, you had the stress of the upcoming holidays. You were relieved that school would be out for the semester, but you were still anxious about the break.

Your parents were going away for the holidays, meaning you were left to stay at Hogwarts for the break. Well, that’s what you were planning, but the second that James heard you would be staying at school, alone for the holidays, he insisted that you come and stay at his parents place along with Sirius and Remus. You told him that you didn’t want to burden his parents by opening their home up to yet another misfit kid, but James wasn’t having it. He said that his mother wanted to meet you anyway, so it was perfect.

That was the final layer of stress, meeting one of your boyfriend’s parents, great. You were panicking now, having to get all three of them a present, and now James’s mom and dad too…

You were stressing a lot. And that is when you felt your hair tickle your neck, touching you in just the wrong way and you kind of just… snapped.

You grabbed some scissors from your desk in your room and a razor from your bathroom and decided it was time to get to it. You mostly just wanted to feel in control for a second, and this was your means of doing that, a small win. You didn’t take off a lot, just enough to make you feel a bit better, a bit lighter.

That's when you heard the door to your room open and a small “Hello, love!” from James. You forgot that you told them they could come and hang out in your room after they were done studying in the library. You heard all three of them file into your room, dropping their bags and kicking off their shoes.

“Bathroom!” you called out, letting them know where you were. The door to the bathroom was still open, so James made his way over to see what you were up to.

“We were thinking that we could hang out for a little then head down and meet- Oh Merlin.” he cut himself off, entering the bathroom and seeing what you were doing. You snipped at another section, not sensing his concern. “Love, what are you doing?” he asked, exasperated.

You didn’t have time to answer before Sirius was popping his head in. He let out a gasp, but you caught the amused smile in the mirror. He covered the lower half of his face with both hands, seeing the mess of the discarded hair all along the counter, sink, and floor.

“I uh, got upset.” you explained, not halting your actions for a second. You were raking the razor through segments of your locks, creating layers and volume. For never doing this before, you seemed to know what you were doing. If you would have known it was this easy, you would have done it all the time, not bothering with overpriced hair salons.

It was Remus’s turn to appear in the doorway. He didn’t say a word, just made eye contact with you in the mirror before walking up behind you and gently taking the razor from your hand, setting it on the hair covered counter. He hugged your middle and kissed the top of your head. “Why are you doing this, dove?” he asked softly.

“I just got so… upset. I have so much homework and studying. And I'm nervous about meeting James's parents, and I have yet to get you any presents.” you said rushed, avoiding Remus’s gaze in the mirror.

“That doesn’t explain why we found you chopping your hair off.” he mused.

“Oh well, it brushed me the wrong way.” you explained.

Remus chuckled at that and kissed the top of your head again. “So you had to show it who’s boss?”

You laughed along with him. Admittedly it was a dumb thing to do, a very abrupt and emotion led decision. “Does it look bad?” you asked.

Remus’s brows rose. “Not at all actually, you did a pretty good job. You didn’t take off that much anyway.” He said, running his fingers through your now cut locks.

You smiled and felt yourself melt into his embrace. “I shouldn’t have done it, it was a dumb thing to do. Especially right before I’m supposed to meet my boyfriend’s parents.” you started to stress yourself out again, what if they didn’t like you, why would you cut your hair right before meeting them, what if it looks bad and they think…

All three boys could see the thoughts running behind your eyes. James spoke from where he was leaning on the door frame, “Love, we don’t need presents, you know that. We will be happy just to spend the whole break with you” he said, calming you down.

You nodded, acknowledging what he was saying, but you were definitely going to get them something. Maybe you could rope Mary or Lily into last minute gift shopping with you.

“Maybe next time we feel like this, we channel our emotions into something else?” he suggested. You nodded and he unraveled his arms from around you, making his way back into your bedroom.

“Wait!” you called after your boys. They halted and turned their attention back to you. “Is the back even?” you asked.

James and Remus chuckled, rolling their eyes and kept walking. Sirius turned back and told you to turn around so he could have a look. He took your hair in his hand and used his grip to pull you back into his chest. You giggled and caught that smile yet again in the mirror.

“It looks great baby.” he said, kissing your cheek. “Next time, invite me to hair salon day.”

“Only if I get you to do your hair and makeup too.” you joked

“I’ll think about it…” he said, kissing the top of your head once more before returning to your boyfriends in your room, leaving you to add the finishing touches to your hair, and to clean everything up yourself.

✂️please don't use this as a sign to cut your own hair i am stupid and impulsive. also why can i write so many fics but nothing for school? beats me thats why my hair is gone :)

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ultimate-shipper-blog · 6 months ago

Text

‘Wrapped’ Around My Finger

“Good evening everyone! I’m your host Ann Romano joined tonight by two of the biggest names in music….please give it up for Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson and Grammy winner Steve Harrington!”

The crowd goes wild.

This is a big deal, two of the biggest names in history with a giant rivalry.

Everyone knew the story. They grew up in a small town together and were on different levels of popularity ultimately ruining what could’ve been a fantastic friendship. Even now ten years since high school they can’t get over it. They hate each other always trying to one up each other.

Eddie trying to make a point that even the freaks can become famous. Stating, “I didn’t need money like Steve Harrington to win a Grammy I have my talent to thank for that.”

The two walk out onto the stage and sit on the couch making sure to leave some distance between them.

“Thank you both for coming out tonight! I know it’s a big trip from LA to New York. It probably helps that you live here huh Steve?”

“Actually I moved to LA.”

Eddie turns to look at him shocked.

“You moved? When did you move? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would it have mattered? It’s not like we see each other anyway. You can barely look at me and you’re sitting two inches from me.”

Eddie huffs in his seat and turns towards Ann, trying to remember what little of his media training he had.

“I only care because I’m a good neighborly fellow of course.”

Ann laughs flicks her hand at him.

“Oh you guys are just too funny. I knew you secretly cared for each other which brings me to my next segment, a game I like to call, “Wrapped Up!” You see gentleman, both of your agents gave me access to your Spotify wrapped and now we’re gonna let the audience in as well!”

The two turn white.

“Is that necessary?” Eddie asks through gritted teeth.

“Why not?” Steve adds in. “I have nothing to hide.” He narrows his eyes at Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes at him.

Ann laughs nervously. “Fantastic! Let’s jump to it!”

She gestures behind her where a giant screen shows Steve’s wrapped.

“Alight fellas, Eddie gets three points for every artist he guesses on the first try. He gets three tries, one point if he gets the artist by the third try.”

“Easy.” Eddie smirks.

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You always were easy.”

“Alright guys let’s focus on the game here!” Ann jumps in.

“Alright number 5….Wham.”

*a bell rings*

“Fantastic start Eddie!”

“What’d I say, easy,” he smirks.

“4. Tears for Fears.”

“3. ABBA.”

“2. Queen.”

“1. Toto.”

*incorrect buzzer sound*

“Ok…Madonna.”

*incorrect*

“Alright Eddie this is your last chance. You’ve done fantastic so far so I think you’re going to win no matter what. Sorry Steve.” Ann says.

“Hey none taken. I definitely didn’t even think he’d do this well.” Steve smirks at him.

“Alright big boy hold onto your pants. I got this.”

Eddie takes a deep inhale.

“Brittney Spears!”

*louder more incorrect buzzer*

“Ugh!”

“Sorry Eddie! But I don’t think even you could’ve guessed this one. Are you ready folks let’s see what it is-”

The crowd goes wild.

Steve’s smirks goes crazy.

Eddie is pale.

Up on the screen in big obnoxious letters is “CORRODED COFFIN”

“That’s right folks! Since Eddie did so well let’s let him play a similar game for Steve’s top songs. Are you ready Eddie!”

Eddie is not breathing.

“Um-”

“Great let’s start!”

“5….Girls just wanna have fun?”

*DING*

“4.Dancing Queen”

*incorrect buzzer*

“Material Girl”

*incorrect buzzer*

Eddie sighs.

“Crown of Thorns.”

*DING*

“That’s right Eddie! Your very own song Crown of Thorns was his number 4? Wanna take a guess at the rest?”

Eddie grits his teeth. “I’m not sure I have a choice.”

“Haha of course you don’t! Now! Number three!”

“3. Heavy is the Head.”

“2. Reign.”

“1….”

He looks nervous.

“Kneel Before the King.”

*DING*

“You got them! Fantastic work Eddie! Were you surprised that four of his five were songs written by you? How could you possibly guess them?”

“At first I was surprised…you know we have this rivalry thing going on but…I’ve been watching Steve since I was fourteen. I know him well. As soon as I saw his top artist I knew his top songs would be the ones I wrote about him.”

The crowd gasps.

“Don’t get me wrong I wrote a lot more about him but these in particular…”

“They’re about forbidden love.” Steve chimes in. His eyes are watering.

“Yeah.”

“That’s why they were my favorite.”

Eddie gives him a sad smile.

“You wrote them about me?”

Eddies smile turns into a frown. “About you, for you, it was always for you, all of them.”

“All of them?”

“Everything. My entire discography. Every performance. Every press tour. Every photo shoot. You just had to worm your way into my life Harrington…my heart.” He whispers that last part but they’re so close together Steve can hear it.

Well barely hear it…his heartbeat is so loud in his ears.

“Anyways Ann what’s next.”

Ann is staring at him in open mouthed shock.

“Wow. This so perfect.” She turns to Steve. “Ready for your turn?”

“Nah.” Eddie says. “Skip to my number one artist.”

Behind them a video starts playing on the screen.

“Hey it’s Steve! Thanks so much for being my number one fan! I mean top .01 percent is a tough spot to get! It means so much to me that I’m your number one artist-”

Steve can’t take his eyes off of Eddie, when could he ever?

“I’m your number one artist?” he asks so softly Eddie can barely hear it.

“Of course…I like the sound of your voice.” He shrugs his shoulder like it’s no big deal.

“Can we talk? I mean after the show?”

Eddie smiles at him.

“Of course Stevie, I’d like that.”

“I would also like to know!” Ann cuts in.

They forgot this was being streamed to millions of people and filmed in front of a live studio audience.

—————

Later Backstage:

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE MY NEW NEIGHBOR HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS!!!????”

“Honestly Eddie I don’t know. For someone who claims to be obsessed with me-”

“I didn’t-“”

“Obsessed.” Steve puts a finger to Eddie’s lips to shut him up. “You didn’t notice I’d moved in next door.”

“Hell just move in with me.”

“…alright.”

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cxvii666 · 2 months ago

Text

“nokia”

college au! denki kaminari + hanta sero x reader

“where's the function?" “—where the fuck the function?” “send the addy—” “where the fuck the function???”

wc: 3.7k

part of the hoe cakes - EP

...starting track

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

.....

"guess who just got that big cashmoneyyyyy!!!"

denki kaminari, to much surprise of those who don't know him so well, is an early riser.

that's not to say that the blonde's sleep schedule isn't completely out of wack, because it is. late nights that could barely be counted as nights, more like extremely early mornings, are not infrequent to him. most days he's up till 2am on his playstation, or playing minecraft on his laptop, or rewatching the same three movies.

but he's always up before 7am.

fuelled by nictotine, caffeine, (sometimes ketamine), and sheer willpower.

he enjoys getting up with the sun, the quiet of the house at dawn.

it's peaceful in a way nothing else is. he gets to attempt at quieting his mind. sometimes he's downstairs before bakugou goes on his morning run, so he makes the guy his favourite disgustingly green multivitamin shakes, and in return receives quiet instruction, general life advice, and insightful words of wisdom from the other blonde. because they are both calm in a way they're normally not.

hanta sero, on the other hand, is a master of the lay in. you won't see him before 2pm on a regular day, he'll be upstairs in his room, snoozing, snoring, drooling into his pillow, until either his stomach wakes him up and he leaves his dungeon of his own accord, in search of food or an energy drink, or, someone gets sent up to check on him, to make sure he's not dead or something like that.

on this particular morning, hanta had stumbled downstairs just after midday, slightly buzzing because he had finally bought the pair of sneakers he'd been eyeing up for the last week.

he flops onto the couch, a gangly pile of long limbs and messy brown hair, knocking denki on the leg accidentally-on-purpose. denki looks up briefly, over the top of his book, from where he's resting in the corner of the couch and acknowledges his friend with a nod.

"'bit early for you, ain't it," the blonde mumbles, the frame of his reading glasses slipping slightly as he turns the page.

"shaddup." is all he receives from hanta in return, who then takes a swig of his redbull like he's tryna give himself wings.

"dude, did you hear what i just said?" hanta yawns out, lazily kicking his feet up to rest on the blonde's shin, "the bag just got dropped in my bank account."

"what, you finally got that uber eats refund?" denki snorts, eyes still focused on the printed words on the page, he has to finish this chapter now, else he won't pick the book back up for another two weeks.

"don't be funny," hanta laments, thinking of the food that never got delivered, the money that was never returned, "and fuck uber, fuck the government." denki rolls his eyes at the rant he's already heard, "what do they get out of torturing underpaid students, huh? no loyalty in this game."

"what game?" denki replies, nearly at the end of the page.

"the game of life," he drawls back dryly. "you finish that chapter yet? i wanna go for a smoke."

"almost, the mc is pissing me off though, i don't know if i can finish this."

"what's the book?"

"pride and prejudice."

hanta whistles low and long, head tilted as he picks his phone back up to open depop. "damn," he mutters, thumb pausing over a blurry jpeg of a hoodie that definitely doesn’t justify the £85 price tag, "sorry, mister classic literature."

denki doesn't even glance up. he just hums, flipping another page with the careful indifference of someone pretending they’re not rereading the same paragraph for the third time.

they fall into silence — not heavy, just easy — filled only by the soft tap-tap-tap of hanta’s screen and the occasional creak of the old couch when one of them shifts. sunlight slants through the living room blinds, catching on dust motes and the curl of denki’s blonde hair as he leans deeper into the cushions, glasses slipping slightly down his nose.

hanta’s sprawled out beside him, legs stretched halfway off the couch, socked feet resting dangerously close to denki’s side. he’s locked in, zoned out, scrolling through overpriced streetwear resellers hawking one-of-one drops and faded zip-ups from some underground german brand he can’t even pronounce.

the quiet’s broken by the sharp snap of a book closing.

“you got funds for said smoke?” denki asks, voice dry, already reaching for his phone.

“i haven’t picked up yet,” hanta replies without looking up.

“that’s not what i asked.”

“you’re so annoying.”

“i was gonna text shinsou. he came back yesterday, i’m sure he’s got at least an eighth on him.”

hanta stretches, joints popping. “then yeah. tell him i’ll bank transfer.”

denki raises an eyebrow. “so you do have smoke money.”

hanta tosses his phone up, catches it against his chest. “what did i say earlier? the bag got dropped.”

a beat.

denki glances at his phone, brows lifting. “oh shit. it’s the 30th.”

“there he is,” hanta grins, already anticipating it. “and you know what that means—”

“we got paiddddd” denki sing-songs, jumping up just enough to do a half-assed shoulder shimmy.

hanta kills the moment immediately, as he always does, with a well-timed scoff and a raised brow. “we? bro, who’s this we you speak of?”

denki freezes mid-dance, blinking. “we… like, you and me?” he gestures between them helplessly. “that’s, like, basic grammar, i fear.”

“i mean,” hanta says, voice climbing mock-dramatically, “there is no ‘we’, okay? you don’t have to spend all your free time in that stupid stockroom. ‘sero can you come in today?’ ‘sero we need a full size range of xyz’ ‘sero can you take the bins out?’ ‘sero can you close the store tonight and then open the next morning’—NO. fuck that.”

denki snorts, trying and failing to hide the smirk pulling at his mouth.

hanta sees it and narrows his eyes. “unemployed bastard. shut the fuck up.”

“okay, okay, relax, bruh,” denki says, holding up both hands. “you know what?”

“…what?”

“we should go out tonight.”

“are you kidding? i thought we were locking in. don’t you have, like, five assignments due next—”

“no thoughts. only vibes.”

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

by 9pm they’re crammed around a too-small, sticky round table in a bar that smells like old wood and spilled citrus. the lighting’s low and uneven, all weird amber glows and exposed wires, and the music is some indie playlist that’s trying a little too hard to be ironic. something with a harmonica plays over the speakers, no one knows the words, but everyone knows the vibe: overpriced, under-cleaned, maybe cool in a way that’s embarrassing if you think about it too long.

denki’s halfway into his second tequila soda, slouched back against the booth with his knees knocking into hanta’s. his eyes are glassy, hair a little damp at the temples, grinning like someone just told him the funniest joke in the world and he’s still recovering.

hanta’s beside him, obviously crossfaded. talking too loud, gesturing too big with a joint in his hand, cheeks flushed pink from a cocktail that had way more liquor than mixer. he’s half on the seat and half off, manspreading shamelessly and knocking into denki every time he tries to make a point.

kiri’s on denki’s other side, balanced on a chair that definitely wasn’t made for his size, nursing a beer that’s already gone warm, launching into some dramatic story about how he “definitely tore something” at the gym last week.

“nah dude, i swear, i was just squatting and something snapped—”

“your common sense,” bakugou mutters from across the table, not looking up from the glass of whiskey he’s been babysitting for the past twenty minutes.

“fuck off, man,” kirishima laughs, clapping him hard on the shoulder, “just ‘cause i’m built different—”

“built stupid,” bakugou corrects, finally glancing up, eyes narrowed like he’s considering whether the redhead needs to be thrown out the window or just insulted more thoroughly.

shinsou’s wedged between bakugou and the wall, hoodie hood up, sipping something dark and bitter with the look of a man who’s about to start dissociating. he hasn't said much since they sat down, just making faces into his glass every time someone raises their voice — which is often.

denki points across the table suddenly, finger wobbling as he focuses on bakugou. “i’m just saying,” he slurs, “you’re, like, objectively the hottest out of all of us, and that’s so unfair because you’re also mean and rich.”

bakugou doesn’t even blink. just flips him off slowly, deliberately, like he’s done it so many times it’s lost all meaning.

“i think i’m the hottest,” hanta says, almost spilling his drink on his lap. “in a, like, mysterious way. like… the kinda hot that sneaks up on you.”

“you’re hot in a raccoon-at-3am kinda way,” shinsou mutters into his drink without missing a beat.

hanta pauses. considers. “thank you?”

kiri claps him on the back like he just won a prize. “you’ve got that haunted twink energy. it works for you.”

hanta makes a face like he’s been personally victimised. “okay wow, homophobic and accurate. you guys are on thin fuckin ice.”

they all laugh — loud and messy — drawing a few annoyed looks from the couple at the next table over. denki knocks his knee against hanta’s and hiccups once, eyes fluttering closed like the room’s starting to spin just slightly.

then he suddenly lurches forward, forehead thunking onto the sticky wood of the table as he groans, “can we go somewhere else? shinsou, your internship aged you like milk. i feel like we’re thirty-five. i wanna move. i wanna dance. i want fun.”

“then go,” shinsou says, without even lifting his head.

denki doesn’t even hesitate. he’s already got his phone out, dialing with shaking hands and tequila optimism. he holds the phone to his ear like it owes him money.

“this is gonna end badly,” hanta whispers to kirishima, grinning wide.

“denki, babe, what’s up?” mina answers on the second ring, her voice loud with bass and laughter and probably a little champagne.

“where are you? save me. i’m surrounded by clinically depressed men and i need a serotonin shot.”

“club downtown with the girls. music’s fire. drinks are pink. get your ass here.”

“we’re on our way.”

he hangs up like he just solved a crime and slaps his palm down on the table. “mina’s at the club. we’re going. sero, get up.”

“say less,” hanta says, already trying to climb over the bench with the grace of a baby giraffe.

“absolutely not,” bakugou growls, right as kiri fist-pumps with a too-loud, “hell yeah!”

shinsou sighs like he’s dying, then tips the rest of his drink back like it might bring him peace.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

they leave the bar like a storm — noisy, uncoordinated, half-drunk and dramatic. denki’s leading the charge, coat flapping behind him like a cape as he marches toward the curb, phone in hand and eyes bright with mission.

“someone call a ride,” shinsou mutters, already regretting this.

“on it,” hanta announces, immediately opening instagram instead of uber. “wait, no, shit.”

“i’ll do it,” bakugou growls, snatching the phone out of hanta’s hand. “you idiots’ll end up the other side of the fuckin' country.”

“wow,” hanta says, mock-offended, “it’s giving control issues.”

“it’s giving i don’t want to die in a ditch tonight,” bakugou snaps.

kiri’s standing too close to the street, waving his arms. “is this legal if i flag one down like a taxi—”

“it’s a rideshare, bro!” denki yells, exasperated. “you don’t just... wave at random cars!”

“what if it’s the vibe though?”

the car arrives miraculously only five minutes later, a silver prius that has seen better days. they pile in like a jenga tower mid-collapse — kirishima practically sitting on shinsou, hanta in the middle seat with both elbows out like he owns the place, denki leaning his whole body across the row to yell something incoherent out the window. bakugou slams the door shut with unnecessary force and glares at the driver like sorry in advance.

the entire ride is chaos.

denki insists on playing music and ends up blasting a playlist called “feral thot energy.” hanta starts freestyle rapping over it, badly. kiri tries to harmonize. shinsou has his head against the window with the thousand-yard stare of a man who has made several mistakes in life.

“this is the kind of night where legends are born,” denki declares, arm draped around hanta’s shoulder like a drunk prom date.

“it’s the kind of night where someone gets kicked out of a club,” shinsou mutters.

“same difference.”

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

the club hits them like a wave — sound and sweat and heat and light. music thrums through the floor, vibrating up through their shoes, a pulsing beat that makes your ribs buzz. everything’s cast in blue and purple and gold strobe. bodies packed tight, the air thick with perfume, alcohol, and cheap fog machine mist.

mina spots them first — she’s glowing, standing on the low couch in a VIP booth like it’s a stage, waving her drink and grinning like she owns the place. she yells something they can’t hear and beckons them over.

they shove their way through the crowd, hands on shoulders, stumbling into strangers. hanta gets distracted by a girl in platform boots and nearly crashes into a server. kiri’s already hyping himself up, bouncing to the beat, dragging bakugou by the wrist with zero shame.

shinsou disappears into the dark like a shadow, muttering something about getting a drink and being “less near all of you.”

denki’s still laughing when he sees you.

his brain short-circuits. just flatlines for a second.

you’re across the room, leaning against the bar with a drink in hand, face lit up in electric violet from the LED strip beneath the counter. you’re laughing — at what, he doesn’t know — and you look good. criminally good. all done up and shining like you were dipped in starlight and eyeliner.

denki halts mid-step, grabbing hanta’s arm like it’s the only thing anchoring him to earth.

"holy shit."

hanta blinks, following his gaze. he spots you instantly. his entire vibe shifts in half a second.

denki’s shoulders stiffen. hanta’s grin tilts, almost smug.

they don’t say a word — but the battle lines are drawn.

denki smooths his shirt down and straightens up, already plotting, because tonight just got way more interesting.

"bro," the brown eyed boy drawls, his normally nonchalant tone cracking, "you’re joking."

"i’m not. she’s here. she’s right fucking there."

they both just stand there for a beat, frozen in place like idiots in a teen movie.

"we knew this might happen," hanta says, knocking back a too-big sip of his drink like it’ll help. "she’s friends with mina. and mina lives here. and we are, unfortunately, also here."

denki groans, scrubbing a hand down his face. "okay but what do we do?"

"we don’t panic," hanta says, clearly starting to panic. "you like her. i like her. classic romcom setup. we wingman each other. bros helping bros."

"that never works."

"you’re right. but i’m already a teensy bit faded, so my judgment is impaired. let’s do it anyway."

they fist bump like absolute morons. it’s unspoken, the truce. the agreement. the absolute guaranteed disaster they’re about to unleash on themselves.

“denki,” hanta hisses suddenly as they're making their way over to the bar, grabbing his friend by the shoulder like he’s about to keep him from walking into traffic. “don’t do the eyebrow thing. it makes you look insane.”

denki freezes mid-step, brow raised just slightly, lips twitching in what was clearly meant to be a smolder but lands somewhere between drunken anime villain and confused raccoon. his bleached hair is slightly damp from the humidity of the club, strands clinging to his forehead, cheeks already pink with tequila and ego.

“what eyebrow thing?” he says innocently, blinking way too much.

“that thing where you raise one and try to smolder. you look like a drunk ferret.”

denki looks genuinely offended. “you’re so full of shit.”

“don’t fight me on this right now,” hanta says, standing tall, long limbs graceful in that lazy way only he can pull off — baggy jeans slung low, silver chain flashing under the neon. “focus. you’re acting like this is a final boss level. relax.”

before denki can retaliate, you spot them.

your grin is immediate — wide, familiar, a little sharp at the edges like you already know something they don’t. you’re leaning against the bar like you own the place, glass in hand, lips glossy, eyes flicking between the two of them like you’re trying to decide who to bully first.

“well, well, well,” you say, raising your drink. “look who crawled out of the sad boy table.”

“we got tired of being emotionally repressed,” denki replies with a grin, already sliding closer. his chain catches the light, and there’s a faint glitter on his cheek like he walked through a cloud of mina’s body spray.

“also the drinks here are pink. i couldn’t resist.”

“pink drinks do hit different,” you concede, tipping your glass to him.

hanta leans in on the other side of you, effortlessly cool, one elbow braced on the bar like he’s done this a hundred times before — because he has. he flashes a lazy smile. “so who’s your friend?”

you glance sideways, and the guy you’d been chatting with is already edging away like a guy smart enough to take a hint. “just someone mina introduced. he’s chill. not as entertaining as you two, apparently.”

they both beam at that — practically glowing.

and for a while, it’s good.

you talk, or more accurately, yell over the pounding bass. denki shoves a round of lemon drop shots into everyone’s hands like he’s on a mission from god. hanta makes a joke about astrology that makes you snort vodka soda through your nose. denki doubles over laughing and nearly chokes on a lime wedge.

you steal one of his fries when a plate of mystery bar food appears out of nowhere, and he acts like you’ve committed a felony. hanta dramatically narrates a fake backstory for the guy passed out in the booth across the room. it’s chaotic and stupid and loud and fun.

until it stops being that.

it’s little things, at first. denki cuts hanta off halfway through a story, correcting him on some inconsequential detail. hanta retaliates by one-upping him on a joke you weren’t really listening to. denki starts leaning a little too close to you. hanta starts rolling his eyes a little too obviously.

you feel it shift — the air getting tighter.

“you always do this,” hanta mutters later, after denki slides into the booth beside you uninvited, legs brushing yours casually like it’s nothing. “you get weird.”

“i’m not weird,” denki snaps, voice rising just enough to make it obvious that he is.

“you’re doing the thing.”

“what thing?”

“the thing where you pretend to wingman but then you cockblock.”

“you literally just told her i cried during Up.”

“because you did!” hanta says, throwing his arms up. “and it was sweet!”

“it was manipulative.”

“you need therapy.”

you stare at both of them, blinking in mild alarm. “are you guys okay?”

“we’re fine,” they say in unison. then glare at each other.

a beat passes. the silence is immediate and awkward.

“i’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you announce, already sliding out of the booth. it’s the emotional equivalent of pulling the fire alarm.

as soon as you’re gone, the mood collapses in on itself like a dying star.

“we’re idiots,” hanta says, rubbing his hand over his face.

“massive idiots,” denki agrees, eyes on the condensation sliding down his glass.

“she probably thinks we’re in love with each other.”

“we are. just not the sexy kind.”

they sit with that. the weight of it. the creeping shame of being two grown men emotionally combusting over a single girl in a bar with glittery walls and a sticky floor.

“you wanna go home?”

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

they stumble into hanta’s room just past midnight, extremely early by their standards, shoes half-kicked off in the doorway, smelling like tequila, sweat, weed, and mutual defeat. the walls glow dimly with the soft wash of purple LEDs, casting shadows over the usual mess — a hoodie draped on the desk chair, empty cans on the windowsill, a pair of skate shoes abandoned under the bed.

denki drops face-first onto the mattress with a dramatic groan. “we blew it.”

“royally,” hanta agrees, toeing off his sneakers and collapsing beside him. “like, worse than the Up thing.”

“i’m never gonna hear the end of the Up thing.”

“you cried so hard," hanta giggles out into the silence.

“don’t start again,” denki mumbles into the blanket. “we’re mourning.”

“mourning what? the shreds of our dignity?”

“that. and the fact that we probably scared her off forever.”

hanta snorts softly. “you think she’ll still come over saturday?”

“she said she would.” denki flips onto his back and stares at the ceiling like it has answers. “you invited her, remember? you were all—come hang, it’ll be chill, we’ll do frozen margaritas, good weed and bad movies.”

“yeah, and you added i’ll make nachos and accidentally seduce you with my helpless little golden retriever charm.”

“it’s not a bit. it’s my burden.”

they lapse into silence again, heads lolling toward each other on the bed, limbs splayed out like they’ve just returned from war.

“you think she’s into you?” hanta asks eventually, voice low, a little too casual to be real.

denki’s quiet for a beat. “i dunno. maybe?”

another pause.

“you?”

hanta lets out a long breath. “maybe.”

they don’t look at each other. they don’t need to. it’s not the first time they’ve liked the same person — just the first time it might actually matter.

“we suck,” denki says again, softer this time.

“at least we suck together.”

"that's so gay."

they fall asleep like that — fully clothed, limbs tangled, laughter still clinging to their skin like the glitter they’ll find in the morning.

...end of playback

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

prev track ▷ 93 'til infinity

next track ▷ black beatles

#sero hanta x black reader #denki kaminari x reader #sero hanta x reader #my hero academia #sero nation #mha #sero hanta #bnha #denki kaminari #denki kaminari x black reader #denki x reader #hanta sero x reader #bnha x black!reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia

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bandgie · 1 year ago

Text

In Pixie Dust We Trust

synopsis: You're content with being Chris's best friend for all eternity. It doesn't matter how big your heart is, you're small where it matters most. That's what you think at least.

warnings: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, microphilia (reader is 7-10in/17-25cm), pussy eating, boobie sucking, reader used as a fleshlight (non-penetrative), cum eating (m!), jerking off, little bit of jealously in the beginning, does this count as monsterfucking? idk

notes: man, I did like 3 different rough drafts on this and said fuck it. ALSO?? I guess grammarly has limited help options now? fucking assholes

3.5k words

It would be impossible for Chris to hear you cheering for him amongst the dozens of shouting people, but you scream anyway.

“Go Chris!” You cup your hands around your mouth for extra volume, “Go, go, go!”

Mythics alike cheer for their representative species. Sirens, vampryes, lycans, and many more creatures roar for a winner. Despite the overwhelming number of Mythics, humans fill up a good portion of the audience to spur on Chris. He’s the only mortal in the swim meet, one of the rare humans to be able to compete against creatures like yourself.

Truthfully, you’re not too aware of the rules when it comes to swimming. Something about a certain amount of meters, certain strokes, and when you’re supposed to come up for air. The explanations went right over your head when Chris told them to you, but that doesn’t stop you from screaming your little lungs out.

“Jeez,” Felix rubs his ear. “Who would’ve thought a little pixie like you could scream so loud.”

You give him an apologetic smile. “Sorry!” You decide it’s better to find a better sitting spot. Felix’s shoulder is always your go-to seat, but you don’t want to burst his eardrums from your screams. Your wings flutter rapidly, raising you high until you plop on his blonde hair.

At least you didn’t have to pay for a seat. Being the mere size of a hand, you can easily sit on someone instead.

You lean to one side of Felix’s head, “This better?” He nods, making your grip on his hair so you don’t slip off. “Yeah. You can cheer for your human boyfriend all you want now.” Felix’s head lightly shakes as he laughs. A sheep shade of crimson creeps up your neck and you yank on his hair. “Shut up! He’s not my boyfriend!”

You only feel a little bad when Felix whines. He reaches his hand to fight you with the wiggle of his fingers that you slap away while giggling. “Ouch! That hurt.”

“Whatever,” you slap the final finger away. “You deserved it.” Felix scoffs, rolling his eyes though you can’t see. “For what? Saying the truth? I’m a nymph, baby. You can’t hide those feelings from me.”

Now it’s you who rolls their eyes. As much as you would want to argue with Felix, he’s right. You may have the best friend title when it comes to Chris, but you want Chris in a way you know you shouldn't. You want to feel him hold you, have his lips pepper kisses all over your magical body until you can’t breathe. He doesn’t know how much you yearn for him when you sit on his shoulder, your wings bashfully fluttering when he talks low just for you to hear.

It doesn’t do any good for you to think like that. It’s better to blink those thoughts away and keep cheering, pretending you’re perfectly fine with being Chris’s tiny best friend.

But pretending is never easy for a pixie. Having such a small body does nothing to lessen the emotions you feel. Felix is doing everything he can to keep you from flying away and sobbing your heart out. When you two went looking for Chris to congratulate him on placing in the top three, neither of you expected the many female Mythics and humans to praise him.

“Hey! He’s just feeling excited from the race, he’s just super hyped right now.” Felix laughs nervously. “It’s no biggie. They’re just all congratulating him.”

You wish that were true or that you believed it. Instead, you’re frozen at the sight of Chris smiling from whatever they’resaying. One of them goes as far as to whisper in his ear, earning a deep blush from his wet face. Felix panics more. “She just- She said- oh damn.”

It shouldn’t bother you. If anything, you should be happy that Chris is finally getting the attention he deserves. He deserves people supporting him. Someone who can give him a happy, normal-sized relationship even if they aren’thuman. Not a pixie who is barely bigger than the size of his hand.

You blink your tears away, ignoring the ugly lump in your throat as you dejectedly fly next to Felix’s face. “It’s fine. Let’sjust go.” Felix whips his head to you, eyes wide with sincerity. “No! Pixie, we came out here for him. We can at least say hi then leave right after.”

There’s a twinge of hope in his eyes. Felix has been rooting for you since you told him about your unrequited love. Although you would roll your eyes at his support most of the time, it did boost some confidence in you. Now you realize it was all foolish. A stupid dream you should have kept sleeping.

You shake your head, “I can’t face him, Lix. Not when every girl in this damn city is trying to make him their mate. It’snot like he’d notice me leaving anyway.”

“You’re leaving?” Chris’s voice makes you and Felix jump. His hair is flat against his head from the diving cap he was wearing. It drips with water, leaking down his beautiful face to his naked torso. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

It’s only for a brief moment that you’re stunned. You weren’t prepared to see him so quickly. “Y-”

“No,” Felix quickly interrupts you. “She meant when is everyone else gonna leave. It’s so stuffed in here.” Felix looks at you wide-eyed as if to say don’t say anything before looking at Chris. “But dude! Congratulations!”

Chris’s signature dimple appears on his face. He wraps an arm around the nymph’s shoulder and brings him in for a hug.“I totally thought I was gonna get last. Those sirens are fucking fast.”

The embrace doesn’t last too long, not when Chris is eager to hear you praise him.

“Yeah,” you nod. “It was really impressive. I’m so proud of you!” It’s hard for you to do your normal joyful screaming, not when the bashful look he gave the mythic girl still lingers in your mind. You try to wipe the memory from your mind to focus on the mortal winner standing before you. The half-naked mortal winner that is.

“Yeah?” Chris lightens up at your words. His shining eyes warm your heart and your jealousy suddenly feels silly. “Fuck yeah! I knew you were gonna at least place in the top 5. But top 3? That’s Olympic shit right there.”

The flush on Chris’s face says it all. He rubs the back of his neck and giggles, a small squeak emitting from the back of his throat. “I would say thaaat.”

Felix laughs at the two of you, patting Chris on the shoulder. “I saw this Korean restaurant nearby - it looks super good. Minho told me that the chefs are all human. We should go before it gets packed!” The three of you look amongst each other and nod, humming about how hungry Chris must be.

“You can save a spot for us, Felix,” Chris smiles at him. “We’ll be there soon.”

You and Chris wave Felix goodbye. You wait until he’s out of earshot before you ask Chris, “Are we gonna meet up with him later?”

Chris smiles ear to ear. “We are. I was really hoping you’d come back to my place for a surprise.” Excited is the best word to describe him right now. His eyes shine with what you think is mischievousness. You can’t help the butterflies in your stomach. You smile at him back, “Now? Dressed like that?”

“Oh shit.” Chris suddenly becomes aware of his nude attire, save for the tight speedo. “Let me change first, then we’ll to mine.”

The naughty look on his face wasn’t for nothing. Chris didn’t necessarily plan to have you like this; nude and whimpering, but he isn’t complaining either. His intentions were pure, really. He had set up his apartment all sweet, miniature roses that could easily fit in your palms as he asked you to be his lover.

You thought of everything wrong at first. How strange it might look for your dainty self to be involved with a human. For him to practically live in the waters while you stay in the sky. Different, too different to work you said. You couldn’t help but think of all the other Mythics flocking to him; ones that he could benefit from and most importantly, ones that he can properly love.

Yet, all your worries were washed away in his eyes, full of love and compassion. He would love you because you’re you, no matter what size.

Now you’re thinking there won’t be enough time to meet Felix at that restaurant he’s been revving about when Chris’stongue ravages your body. Kissing him felt weird enough, your lips barely able to lock with his bottom one. But having him lick and suck on every part of your body easily took the cake.

Chris is holding you gently in his palm, your wings tightly tucked into your back so he doesn’t accidentally get them wet. The tip of his tongue dips down into your cunt before it swipes up to your breasts. You can tell he’s trying to be romantic about it, but there’s nothing soft in the way he suckles on your tits, how his saliva drips down the curve of your mounds onto his palm.

“Shit,” you moan when Chris finds your sweet, tiny pussy again. “You’re getting me so wet.” In response, Chris pulls away. You whine at the loss of contact. Your body shivers in his hold from the lack of his hot mouth.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” But he doesn't look apologetic at all. Not when he’s looking at you as if he might take a bite. Not when he licks his lips at the sight of your body spread out in his palm, twitching and soaking.

You reach a small hand up and grab the tip of his nose, earning a giggle from his pretty lips. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” you push yourself up with an elbow to nuzzle against his face. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” the tips of his ears burn redder. “I like it too.”

The two of you share a laugh before you sprawl yourself back in his hold, opening your legs so his large tongue touches you where you need him most. Chris obediently nuzzles his tongue onto your cunt, flicking it upwards. Your hips chase the feeling, arching and twisting until he has to restrain you.

“Nooo,” you gently whine when he uses his fingers to pin your hands above your head. “Wanna feel it.”

Chris smiles, directing you to flatten your feet, spread your thighs, and arch until your back is completely lifted from his palm. It’s a weird position, but you wiggle in excitement when he leans his head down. “You will, baby,” he reassures.“Just gotta listen to me for a little, okay?”

You nod, forcing yourself still when you feel the familiar muscle on your core. It’s nearly similar to when you had the freedom to move, but there’s an extra layer of pleasure from being held back. For his tongue lick up and down, reaching up high to your stomach down to your ass. Chris doesn’t have to add much pressure, not when his tongue is half the size of your entire self.

The first taste of your orgasm builds when he swipes his tongue side to side. It moves your vulva perfectly, not focusing so much on your sensitive nub. Your hands grip his fingertips and you moan. “Channie…i’mma cum.”

He hums against your body, acknowledging your impending orgasm. Chris is too busy trying to get you on his taste buds. It’s more of a hint than a flavor of your pussy. If only Chris could drown in it. To feel these small thighs wrap around his head and yank him closer until all he can sense is you. But having your boobs and pussy in his mouth nearly at the same time is a huge win for him regardless.

Your walls clench, a clear sign that you only have mere seconds before you cum. Maybe you could ask Chris to put justthe tip of his pinky finger in. It would stretch you so much, so good. If you can’t take his cock, you’ll take the next best thing.

“In,” you mewl. “Want it in me.”

Chris raises an eyebrow at you, clearly confused by what you mean. He can’t put anything in you, he doesn’t even want to think about it. He shakes his head with your pussy in his mouth, back to focusing on the task at hand.

“Channie!” You nearly scream his name. “Please! I’ve been good. I’ve been so good! Just the tip of your finger and-”

He sucks hard, making your entire body move from the suction. You wail, digging the back of your head further into his palm. He sucks and licks, obviously trying to get your mind off of being filled and instead finishing on his tongue. It works because all you can think about is flooding Chris’s mouth with your juices. You think about how good it’s going to feel to have his big tongue on you, licking you up.

You dig your nails into his fingers and tense. Chris places the tip of his tongue perfectly on your clit and you finally cum.

He holds you while you shake. Chris can feel the trembling of your body, he can taste the essence of your orgasm, and he can hear your pretty little moans as you tip over. He can’t help but giggle at how your little hips roughly rock against his tongue. Deciding to give you a different sensation, Chris puts his tongue back in his mouth and puckers his lips instead. The plushness is the best way to ride out your high, gentle and soft.

You collapse in his hands when you come down. You can only whimper when he carefully nuzzles your body against his face affectionately. Chris peppers kisses on your body, from the top of your head to the soaked place between your thighs. It helps get you refocused by grounding yourself from his touch. You return his kisses, placing your hands on either side of his cheek and feeling his mouth against yours.

It feels like he’s trying to swallow you or maybe not trying to. You can’t really tell, but you don’t really mind. All you care about is how he whimpers against your lips, making you concerned about his state.

You pull from his lips and adjust in his hands until you’re sitting. “It hurts. Doesn't it, Channie?” You don’t need to specify what you’re talking about. Not when you can see the need in his eyes, the pout in his lips. Chris nods, almost ashamed.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says. “I dunno what to do about it.”

He looks so dejected, so lost. Your wings untuck from your back and flutter until you’re lifted in the air. Chris’s eyes drop to your breasts as if he wasn’t just drooling on them minutes ago. You snap your fingers until he looks into your eyes. “I know what to do. Why don’t you sit down for me and let me take care of you now.”

You can tell he’s hesitant. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t know how he wants to. Chris easilylistens to your instructions; how you want him stripped from the lower half, sitting on the couch with his legs sprawled open so his hard, leaky cock is pretty on display.

Chris looks nervous, you can tell by how he grabs a nearby pillow and hugs it to his chest. “Are you sure, baby? I don’twant you to hurt yourself.”

How endearing your lover is. Willing to sacrifice his pleasure for your comfort.

You fly to his lap and rest on a meaty thigh. “You don’t gotta worry your pretty little head about nothing, Channie.” You reach out a hand to rub it against his cock. “I can handle it.”

Before he can say anything else, you quickly find your place on his shaft with your back facing him. You gasp at the warmth, the thickness of his cock between your legs. Your body is already wet from your orgasm, so it’s easy to gently slide against him. The veins from his cock seem huge this closeup and you can’t help the shiver that runs through your body when your clit goes over one.

“You’re so big Channie,” you hum, looking back. “Almost as big as me.”

Chris giggles shyly, adjusting in his seat so he slightly slouches against the cushions. You turn back to face his tip and place your little hands on his dick to balance yourself. A whine leaves Chris’s throat when you grind against him higher. Your hands reach out to play with his tip, swirling around the sensitive flesh and having your fingers rub against his slit.

His hips thrust up and you let out a surprised squeal.

“S-shit, sorry,” he moans. “I didn’t mean to.” Chris is being so careful not to have you slip off, but it’s nearly impossible for him to keep still. Not when he can see your entire body jerking him off, your little ass humping his cock so nicely. He especially loves the wet trail that you leave behind with every grind.

You laugh, “It’s okay. Just means you’re feeling good.”

Since you’re just slightly bigger than his length, you decide it would be better to lay completely flat on his cock and slide yourself that way. It’s silly though, humping his dick in a way that reminds you of the nights you spent on your tiny bed touching yourself at the thought of Chris. Now, you’re able to put all that practice to good use.

With your legs wrapped around the base, you find it much easier to slide yourself. To go at a speed that has Chris moaning and fisting his hands into the sofa. Your tongue lolls from your mouth as you moan with him, effectively adding moisture that makes everything wetter.

“Baby! Baby, baby, you’re gonna make me cum just like that.” Chris pants. One of his hands shoots down below his cock, tugging his balls to help get him closer. You tilt your head to look down at the sight, whimpering at how he holds and rubs his sack.

It makes you go faster. You practically squeeze his cock with your limbs almost painfully. Chris only finds pleasure in your hold though. Without thinking, Chris wraps his other hand around his cock and you. Your wings immediately find cover behind your back so they don’t get damaged. The hand around you tightens slightly.

“You want me to use you, hm?” Chris carefully drags you up and down his length. “Be my little cocksleeve, is that it?” You can’t even be a fleshlight to him, but you can be useful. it’s near impossible to nod with how he’s holding you, but you let out a breathy yes. Your arms are locked at your sides from his grip, legs open and limp so he has more access to use you how he wants.

You underestimated how slippery you would get. How his precum would leak onto your hair and face. A part of you thought it would be uncomfortable being pressed up against his cock like this, but all you can feel is how warm he is. It feels good to have him use your body like this, having your clit brush against his girth.

Chris isn’t as careful this time, not that you mind anyway. He grunts with every drag, squeezing your body tighter until you whimper. You feel his cock twitch under you and your cunt clenches in response.

“Fuckin’ shit,” he grunts. “Wrapped around my cock so tight.”

You whimper. There isn’t a chance that you would be able to cum again. Your cunt is roughly pressed against his dick to get any real friction, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling any pleasure. “You’re using me so good, Channie. You gonna cum on me too?”

There isn’t a need for Chris’s confirmation. Not when the hot spurt of his release spews from his cock. You can’t see how far it shoots up, how it lands up to his thighs and leaks onto his hand. The only ounce of cum you get is on the top of your hair, a sticky, warm glob of white.

Chris releases you quickly, letting you get the proper chance to breathe and rest on his pulsing cock.

It doesn’t last long, not when two hands carefully lift you and bring you close to Chris’s face. His neck is a deep shade of red. The blood rushes to his face to give off a pink hue. Even the tips of his ears burn with the same color. As fucked out as he looks, he still has the energy to give you an endearing smile.

Your lips twist shyly, “Why are you looking at me like that? You know I’m completely covered in your cum, right?” But Chris only leans in and uses his nose to nuzzle against your face.

“Mhm. My very own pixie dust.”

#smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #skz #skz hard hours #skz hard thoughts #skz bangchan #skz bang chan #bangchan fic #christopher bang #bang chan smut #chris skz #chan smut #skz chan smut #bang chan

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fangirlingalittletoohard · 3 months ago

Text

Just ask me

Inspired by this wonderful prompt I received from @mercuryinvenus!

3,276 words

Haymitch Abernathy x Reader

No use of y/n, but second person perspective

Warnings: mentions of forced prostitution, occasional swearing, oral (f receiving), protected p in v, very fluffy smut with a little bit of angst at the beginning

This was supposed to be a short one-shot but I got carried away...

Masterlist

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Things between you and Haymitch were complicated. You liked him, you really did, but every time you made a move, he became awkward. The irritating thing was that you knew that he cared for you too. On more than a few occasions, you had fallen asleep with your limbs entwined, trying to keep one another’s demons at bay. You gravitated towards each other at social occasions and found yourselves calling each other from your respective districts just to hear the other talk. A few times, you had kissed him, but he always pulled away too soon and had this sort of guilty look in his eyes which made you uncomfortable.

You and Haymitch were sat on the damp grass as far away from the raucous of yet another Capitol party as you could. Your client had only paid until midnight, and now it was one in the morning, and you were free to mingle as you pleased. “How long do you think these stars have been up there for?” You asked, nudging his foot with yours. “I don’t know.” he replied. “A few thousand years? I’ve heard that they’re so far away that by the time their light reaches us, they’ve already died.” “That’s some sort of poetic metaphor just waiting to be overused.” You replied, crossing your legs and turning to face him. “Yeah, I guess so.” Haymitch mused, turning to face you, too. He looked at you properly for the first time all evening. The part of you that liked him would have felt self-conscious in another life, but you had got so used to people admiring your body that it didn’t phase you. “You want my jacket?” He asked, somewhat out of the blue. You frowned a little. He had done this once before when you had met him after seeing a client. It wasn’t cold, and you couldn’t work out whether it was supposed to be some sort of romantic gesture or whether he felt uncomfortable that you wore such a revealing outfit. Nevertheless, you nodded, fearing that he would feel hurt if the former was true.

Haymitch removed his jacket and leant over to you, draping it around your shoulders and buttoning it over your chest. He just looked too perfect under the soft light of the full moon, and you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning in and kissing him. It was a soft, tentative kiss. His lips were warm and a little chapped. You forced yourself to savour the few seconds of contact before he pulled away, as usual, avoiding eye contact with you. “Is everything okay?” You asked. “Yeah,” he replied, still avoiding eye contact with you, “it’s just getting late. Maybe we should head home.” “Oh,” you replied, a little hurt. “Yeah, I guess so.”

~~~

Three weeks had passed since the last time you had seen Haymitch. He knew you were coming to District 12. You hadn’t explicitly told him why, but it was easy enough for him to guess. It had been a horrendous few days. You had been sent on loan as a gift to the District’s Head Peacekeeper for whatever reason, and he had allowed you to be shared amongst his highest-ranking officers. The only silver lining was that your request to remain for a few days in District 12 to recover had been approved.

You knocked on Haymitch’s door, suitcase in hand, feeling physically and emotionally drained. Before you had even finished knocking, the door swung open and Haymitch pulled you into a tight embrace. His sweater was soft against your cheek, and he smelled comforting. He held you for a while, his chin resting on top of your head. You breathed deeply, the tension seeping out of your body the longer his arms were around you.

“I drew you a bath.” He stated, breaking the silence. You leant back, but he kept his arms around your waist. “Thought it might help you relax.” He continued, failing to conceal his concerned expression. “Thank you.” You replied. You felt touched that he seemed to know exactly what you would need.

Haymitch took your suitcase and led you to an upstairs bedroom with an adjoining bathroom. He brought your case inside, then left swiftly, muttering, “let me know if you need anything,” before quickly shutting the door behind himself and leaving you alone. You thought his behaviour was a little strange but brushed it off - Haymitch was always a little strange with you.

Making your way into the bathroom, you couldn’t suppress the smile which had plastered itself across your face. The room was warm, steam dancing in tendrils above the water. Lavender bubbles, the kind you could usually only find in luxurious hotels in the Capitol, floated on the surface of the water, the room was dimly lit by dozens of candles, and a tall glass of a deep purple liquid perched on the edge of the tub.

You quickly stripped yourself of your clothes and sunk into the warm water, feeling your muscles immediately begin to relax. You reclined backwards and took the glass from the edge of the tub, taking a sip and smiling again. The only other time you had visited District 12 was on your victory tour. You had told Haymitch years ago that the best thing you consumed on that tour was the juice he had made you from wild blackberries which grew on an unkempt bush in his garden. Now, four years later, he had remembered your compliment and made you the same juice.

You spent a long time in the bath, and by the time you had drained the tub, re-dressed in pyjamas and braided your wet hair down your back, you felt relaxed for the first time in days. You made your way downstairs and found Haymitch on his sofa, pulled close to the fire in his hearth. He noticed you and opened his arms. You gladly accepted his invitation and curled up on his lap, your head on his shoulder. “Thank you for that,” you began once you had settled, “it was exactly what I needed.” “It was nothing, really.” Haymitch insisted. You knew it wasn’t nothing. You knew that he had cleaned and tidied his house for you, which was a big deal because he barely looked after himself when you weren’t around. He had gone to a lot of effort to make you feel comfortable.

After a few moments, you noticed that there wasn’t an alcoholic drink in sight. Come to think of it, his breath didn’t smell of alcohol either. It occurred to you that, for the first time since you had met him, he was actually sober. You couldn’t articulate the feeling that bloomed inside you as you realised this. It was warm, but also something like giddiness. Haymitch had gone to all this effort for you.

Without thinking, you shifted in Haymitch’s lap and pressed your lips against his. At first, he kissed you back, but after a few seconds, he pulled away. He slipped his arm beneath your legs and lifted you off his lap, depositing you a few inches away from him on the sofa. “Why do you always pull away?” You asked before you could stop yourself, your hurt getting the better of you. Haymitch seemed taken aback. “What do you mean?” He asked, avoiding eye contact with you. You swivelled to face him, deciding that now was as good a time as any to have this conversation. He was sober, after all. “I mean, every time I kiss you, you pull away and act all guilty. I’m getting mixed signals because it feels like you like me, but you won’t let me kiss you.”

There, it was all out in the open. A pained expression passed over Haymitch’s features. He was quiet for a moment, before murmuring, “I don’t want to be as bad as the men who use you.” You frowned for a second, digesting his confession. “Why would kissing me put you on the same level as my clients?” Haymitch winced as you called them your clients. “I guess I don’t think you’d want anything physical after… you know.” He replied quietly. Your expression softened. “Haymitch,” you sighed, smiling, “you’re not like them at all. I’m not with you because I’m forced to. I want to be here. And if we do anything physical, I’d hope it’s because we both want to.” Again, Haymitch was quiet for a few seconds. “I just don’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable, or make you think about times where you’re forced to do things you don’t want to do.” You smiled even wider and climbed back into his lap, this time straddling his hips and cupping his face in your hands. “Haymitch Abernathy, I like you, and I would like to engage in all manner of physical intimacies with you, if you would also like that.” Haymitch smiled a little, then frowned again. “How do I know if you want something, or if you’re just too scared to tell me that you don’t want something?” You smiled even harder. God, he was perfect. “Just ask me.” You replied. Haymitch took a moment to think, then his expression softened. “Can I kiss you?” He asked. “You can.” You replied, leaning into him. For the first time, Haymitch initiated a kiss, and didn’t pull away. It was soft, but you could also feel his desperation as the kiss became sloppier the longer it lasted. You realised that he must have been holding himself back for a long time.

Eventually, Haymitch broke the kiss. His cheeks were flushed, his lips a little puffier than usual, and his pupils blown wide. “Can I take you upstairs?” He asked, his breath warm against your lips. You nodded your consent, and he slipped his hands underneath you, lifting you off the sofa as he stood up. You wrapped your legs around his middle, and Haymitch resumed kissing you, stumbling up the stairs and down the corridor into his bedroom. He sat you on the edge of his bed, and knelt between your legs, his lips still attached to yours. You needed more. You pulled at the hem of his shirt until he realised what you wanted and reached over his head, removing the garment in one swift movement. As he did so, you removed your own shirt, leaving you completely naked from the waist up. Haymitch sat on his heels and you both eyed each other. He was beautiful. Broad shoulders, strong arms, a soft stomach, a light dusting of hair over his chest and down his stomach to the waistband of his trousers. He was staring at your bare chest, and for the first time since you had won your Games, the sight didn’t turn your stomach. In fact, you felt your underwear becoming damp with your arousal. He wasn’t looking at you like you were something to own or conquer, he was looking at you with love.

You reached out and grabbed Haymitch, pulling him close to you again. He let you take his hands and place them on your breasts but removed one hand once his mouth met yours again and instead snaked it around your back, pulling you as close as possible to him. You were growing impatient and broke the kiss to stand up in front of him and remove your pyjama shorts and underwear. You ran your hands through his hair as he looked up at you, eyes full of adoration. You could sense that he was holding back. “What is it?” You asked, gently. Haymitch was breathing heavily. “I want to taste you.” He stated, voice low. A bolt of arousal shot straight to your core. In your four years of being pimped out, for lack of appropriate euphemism, you had never slept with a man who was interested in pleasuring you. Evidently, Haymitch misinterpreted your silence for discomfort as he quickly added, “only if you want me to, though.” “Yes!” You managed to blurt out, leaning down to kiss him again. You felt Haymitch’s lips twist into a smile against yours. Gently, he gripped your hips and guided you to sit back on the edge of his bed. He slowly pushed your thighs open and began to pepper little kisses from your knee all the way up the inside of your thigh. He paused when he reached your core, and you heard the quietest of moans escape his lips as he sat back and looked at how wet you were. He locked eyes with you, and with a flat tongue, licked a thick stripe from your hole to your clit. Immediately, you let out a loud moan and one of your hands flew to his hair, gripping it tightly. It was unlike anything you had felt before. He repeated the motion a few times before focusing in on your clit. At first, he licked at it slowly, letting you get used to the feeling and watching your face contort in pleasure. After a while, he wrapped his lips around it and sucked, which earned him even louder moans and a grip on his hair so tight you weren’t sure how he wasn’t in pain. Briefly, he detached his lips from you to ask, “this okay?” You nodded in response, your eyes screwed shut. “Need to hear you say it.” He pressed. You forced yourself to open your eyes and the sight of him kneeling between your parted thighs, the lower half of his face glistening with your arousal, almost made you come. “Yes!” You breathed, “please keep going.” You tugged at his hair, shoving his face back between your thighs. Haymitch complied, sucking a little harder this time and beginning to flick his tongue over your clit inside his mouth. It was bliss. It took barely a few seconds of this new sensation before you were coming on his tongue. Haymitch lapped up your arousal, and you groaned. You had never been this aroused in your entire life.

Once he had finished cleaning you up with his tongue, Haymitch knelt up again, bringing his face back up to yours and kissing you softly. “Was that okay?” He asked.

“It was more than okay.” You replied, smiling so hard your cheeks were beginning to hurt. “Do you want to go any further?” He pressed. Again, this was a first. Even though you could tell from a brief look at his crotch that he definitely wanted to go further, there was no implication in his tone that he did. That brief look was enough to make you want all of him. “I do.” You replied, fingers raking through his hair. He was so goddamned pretty. “How can I make sure you’re comfortable?” He asked. You pondered this for a moment. You had never really considered what it would take for you to actually feel comfortable having sex. “Keep talking to me.” You decided. Haymitch nodded. “And make sure I can see you. People usually want me bent over or with my face in a pillow or whatever, so I think I’d like to be able to see you the whole time.” “I’m sure that can be arranged.” Haymitch replied, making you laugh a little.

Haymitch kissed you again, softly and sweetly. You felt as if your heart might actually explode. He was so careful with you - so loving and gentle and so different from anyone you had been with before. He pulled away and stood up, motioning for you to shuffle back on the bed. You did so, and lay down with your head resting on soft pillows. “Want me to take my pants off now?” He asked. “Please.” You replied, mouth watering as you imagined what rested beneath the fabric. Haymitch complied, unbuttoning, unzipping, and finally dropping his pants to the floor and stepping out of them. He was big. Not so big that it would hurt, but big enough that it had you clenching around nothing, desperate for it inside you. Haymitch chuckled a little when he noticed you staring. He crawled on top of you and placed a kiss on the tip of your nose. He kissed you again and slowly began to rub his cock against your arousal. “This okay?” He asked. “Yes!” You replied quickly, making him chuckle again. Your hips bucked upwards involuntarily as the tip of his cock poked your clit. Haymitch leant down, bringing his lips close to your ear. “Do you want me inside you?” He whispered. You shuddered. “Please.” You replied. You seemed only to be able to reply with one-word answers, but in your current situation who could blame you?

With your consent, Haymitch reached over to his nightstand, grabbed a condom and rolled it on, then slowly pressed himself into you. His face was barely inches above yours, and he made sure to hold eye contact with you as he did so. It was quite possibly one of the hottest things you had ever experienced. The two of you groaned in unison as your tight walls swallowed him up. “Fuck, you feel so good.” He murmured, his words making you clench around him. “Want me to start moving?” He asked as your hips began to buck again. “Yeah.” You whined, struggling to wait any longer. Haymitch complied and began to slowly thrust in and out of you. He rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around your waist and your legs around his middle, pulling you impossible close to him. As he began to speed up his movements, he pressed his forehead to yours. You had had a lot of sex, but this was something else entirely. This was intimate. It wasn’t just sex, Haymitch was making love to you, as you had heard one of your friends refer to it as once. You hadn’t understood then, but you did now.

Haymitch shifted a little, and his cock pressed into a spot you had only ever found by yourself. You moaned particularly loudly. “That spot feel good?” He asked. You nodded. “Want me to keep hitting it?” You nodded more vigorously, moaning loudly again when he began to repeatedly hit that same spot inside you. The more he hit it, the closer you came to coming again. You were almost there, when Haymitch groaned. “I’m gonna come soon,” he began, “do you want me to?” He asked. “Yes,” you replied, breathily, “just don’t stop, please.” Haymitch moaned at your words and his movements became more frantic. You felt your walls begin to spasm around him, and you felt Haymitch twitch inside you. As your orgasm began to wash over you, Haymitch groaned and came inside the condom. He continued to thrust into you, helping you to ride out your orgasm. When your walls had finally stopped contracting around him, he stilled. “I’m gonna pull out now, okay?” He warned. You nodded, letting him pull out of you. Haymitch lay down beside you and pulled you into him, kissing you softly. “Was that okay?” He asked. “More than okay.” You replied, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.

You lay like that for a while. At some point, Haymitch got up to discard of the condom and bring you a glass of water as you pulled on his shirt and made yourself comfy under his duvet, and you ended the evening falling asleep curled up together in his bed. You had known that you wanted a physical relationship with Haymitch, but what you hadn’t realised was that he would show you that sex could actually be something enjoyable and safe.

#haymitch abernathy smut #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch smut #the hunger games #thg #thg series #thg x reader #haymitch x reader smut #Haymitch Abernathy x reader smut #sunrise on the reaping #sunrise on the reaping smut #sotr #thg sotr #sotr smut

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