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niefics · 5 months ago

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CRAWLING BACK 2 U — P.JS X FEM!READER

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — SYNOPSIS : Reader & jay loose contact after a messy argument about a girl, jay comes crawling back wanting to make her feel good one last time.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — WARNINGS : toxic (?), Fem!reader, cussing, smut with a small plot, pussy eating, dumbification ? NOT PROOF READ!!! Oh and no protection (please wear it), breading kink, slut shaming (?), pet names, slight choking, fingering, cum eating??,, wc ; 2.5k, felt extra nasty ;)))

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — A/N : long time no see LOLLLL, I just ain’t been having inspo lmao .. also why does nb fw jay fics fr </33, reblogs are much preciated. I hope you like this fic!

Sighing harshly you broke the silence that was in jays apartment. "So who is she ?" You asked crossing your arms looking at him. He looked at you, his eyebrows scrunching. "The fuck does it matter, we aren't dating." Your head snapped back at the sudden words. You knew he wasn't yours, you two never put a label on it but it was blatantly obvious what this relationship was. Friends with benefits that was obviously becoming more.

"It fucking matters because you are fucking me, and you always somehow forget to bring condoms so jay it does fucking matter!" You spoke, you've never snapped at jay but at this moment it was serious. Jay sighed, pinching nose bridge as he said your name. "Look, we are only fuck, okay? Only time you're over is to fuck got it ? We were never more." Jay spoke, his tone cold. The fact that he said you two were never more was irritating, assuming the nights you spent with each other just cuddling and acting lovey dovey was nothing more to him was funny, knowing he was the one who started it all. "So those night we laid up under eachother doing nothing but cuddling was nothing more right? Jay I know we aren't a thing I'm not dumb, but it feels like your fucking playing in my face and I don't like that. Do you want her cause she can have you. You were nothing more then dick to me anyways. You could barely hit the spots that made come anyways." You spoke coldly, grabbing your bag and walking to his front door slipping your shoes on and walking out.

One thing you didn't like was being played, especially by someone you know you can do better with. Months went by with no more interaction you didn't care more worried about yourself. There were night where you did miss jay but at that moment you could care less.

As the rain started to get heavy outside your apartment late at night, you were settled into your bed comfortably, half asleep as your tv blasted in the background for extra noise as you slept cuddled up to your pillow. And just as you were about to hit the deepest part of your sleep cycle you heard a continuous knock from your front door sighing, you got up slip on your house shoes and walking to go look through the peephole. You were surprised to see the familiar figure of jay, someone you've cut off long ago. You tiredly unlocked the door to see him drenched. "Listen.." you tiredly rolled your eyes. "What are you here for ?" You questioned tiredly. "You.." he spoke, you laughed softly at his nonsense. "You had me once why would I let you have me again?"

He sighed, saying your name softly. "Cmon, it was a stupid argument." You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "You wouldn't answer the question of the bitch you could've been talking to, jay im not gonna let sleep with just anyone whenever you're sleeping with me! You hardly use condoms so why the fuck would I?" You spoke scrunching you eyebrows. "I dropped contact with her, I don't have her number, she's a nobody to me now .. just please let me, make up to you." He spoke stepping closer to you.

And he you were, on your bed, half necked, your shorts you were sleeping was tossed around your room somewhere while your panties were hanging on to your leg as jay sat head deep into your legs, you legs over his shoulders as his hands kept you legs from closing on his as he sucked your clit, humming as he sucked it, the vibrations causing you to moan as your toes would curl. As little gasps and whines came out your mouth, you forgot how good he felt and why you liked jay so much. No matter how bad he would treat you would stay and when you finally left him alone you really couldn't figure out why and now you do remember, it was how good he'd pleasure you, how good he'd make you come and wouldn't stop till he was done. And when he finished he would cuddle you, cradle you, caress the skin he bruised. That's why you liked him so much, no one has ever made you feel this good.

You whined saying his name with your eyes closed, you grabbed onto your nipples giving yourself extra pleasure as he kept going. He stopped sucking your swollen puffy clit to go lower sticking his tongue out to lick your wet slit, causing to gasp making your legs open wider wanting all of him, you missed how good is tongue felt on you pussy, you missed how filling his fingers alone felt. You couldn't make yourself feel as good as Jay could. No orgasm felt as good as the one Jay gave you and you hated that, now matter if you thought about sleeping with another man, it wouldn't feel ass good as it did with jay. The after care wouldn't feel as good as with jay, it was as of tho jay ruined it all for you abs you hated it.

But here you are, a moaning, whining mess as jay licked up your slick prepping to fuck you senseless, he pulled his face away from you cunt rubbing his middle finger into your slick spitting into it giving more slick to work with as he rubbing his finger into your pussy before shoving his finger causing you to gasp at the feeling of his cold digit being inside you, he wasted no time moving it inside and out of you watching you to see how you were feeling, a shit eating grin never failed to meet your gaze as he moved his finger faster with no warning you eyebrows knitted together you tried to keep eye contact your mouth agape before you head fell back and you finally spoke. "Fuck!" You dragged your word out as you found your hand rubbing your clit trying to clinch on his finger. He chuckled.

"Trying to come already baby? Haven't even put the second one in yet. You've missed my fingers this much ?" He spoke shaking his head taking his eyes off your face to you cunt who was damn sure ready for a second finger, he added it as you quickly shut your legs.. well tried to at least. "F .. uh .. ck!" You spoke trying to let it out in a small cry coming out instead. He chucked diving back into your cunt, going back to kissing and sucking on you clit as he fucked his fingers into you, pumping them hitting that spot that made you feel funny. "Yes, jay please don't stop." You whined putting your hand in his hair pulling it, he groaned causing vibrations making you clinch on his fingers as he kept pressing on your good spot. You already felt like the knot in your stomach was about to pop.

"Shit shit shit, jay! Please .. can I come." He pulled off you letting his finger slip out rubbing you clit as he stood up. He shook his head no, humming in a disapproval. "Not right now." He spoke kissing your lips, your slick on his lips and chin, he hummed into the kiss his pants strangling his hardened dick, it twitching in his sweats. He pulled back as he untied it. "Fuck I don't have a condom." You rolled your eyes. "You never have one." He chuckled pulling his pants down, including his underwear his dick springing out with precum leaking. "I'm starting to think you like the risk of cumming in me." He pulled in to kiss you his hand finding it way on your neck. "And you like it, you clench harder Everytime I think about trying to baby trap you." You both knew it was just the feeling of good sex playing a roll in his "threats." You knew jay had a breading kink, but he never dared to fill you up, even with as much begging as you did it was always no.

"You gonna fill me up tonight, make our last time a good one ? Leave me all messy?" He grabbed you by your neck kissing you harder you knew exactly what to do to turn him on, no matter how long it's been. "Turn around, ass up." He pulled back to watch you do so, you tried to take your oversized shirt on. "No, keep it on, I want to have something to pull on." You pouted. "But you have my hair?" He chuckled shaking his head. "Who said I can't have options?" He spoke watching you turn over ass up he walked closer to the bed pulling you to the edge, he put his fingers back into you as you grabbed his dick at stroking it as he pumped his fingers into you making you moan again. You your hand back towards your face into your mouth, spitting into your hand and pulling it back to his hardened member stroking it making him moan at the feeling of the mixture of spit and precum together. "Enough, move you hand." He spoke as you let go and he positioned himself slowing pushing himself in.

A gasp came out your mouth, you nearly forgot how painfully big his dick was, especially when he decided not go missionary, whining at the pain. "Ahh take it, I know you can ?" He spoke as you ran a little from it pushing your ass back down a little as he went down more and more finally hitting the base he gave you time to breath and get used to it. He was a monster after all.

He pulled back, as he started thrusting into you, your eyebrows knitted together as you let him fuck himself into you you lip bitten as you took it, getting used to his dick again you started to moan more freely, he grabbed your shirt, pulling on it as he started pounding into you as you moaned and whined his name like he liked it. "Wait- fuck! Y/n is this my shirt?" He spoke pounding into you, it was so dumb of him to even try to keep a conversation with you especially in this position, you can never keep up a conversation in the position, he just felt so much deeper when your ass was up like this, you came the most in the position, made you biggest messes in the position. You hummed. "You know I .. fucking hate you not using your words!" He spoke pounding harder. You tried to speak. "Yes! I kept it- fuck! Fells s'good." You moaned. "Your dumb for my dick aren't you? Haven't even been long and here you are all whiny and creamy already on my dick." He groaned.

"And I bet you'd love to feel me feel you up to the brim too." He spoke going faster, your mouth fell agape as you felt so good. "Fuck yes!" You moaned. "So dumb for my cock huh baby? My little cock slut, not even your own fingers can make you feel this good huh?" You clenched on his dick you felt so close yet so far. "Let me here you say it?" He spoke slapping your ass. "Ah! Fuck.. you can only make feel this good jay!" He chuckled pulling on you hair and bring you closer. "Mhm, that's right my dumb slut, nobody can make you feel as good as jay can." His hand snaked around your neck softly squeezing your neck you felt yourself go dumb, you knew you were about to come whining.

"Please please please." You repeated in a whisper. "Please what?" He asked groaning in your ear. "Please let me come." Jay twitched hearing that, kissing your jaw as he felt you clench again. "I'm so, so close please!" He liked when you begged, he liked to see you a mess in general he couldn't help that. "Come baby, make a mess on my dick." He spoke letting you fall back on your knees slapping your ass as he kept going as just like that you whined cleaning on jay so hard he could've popped out. "Fuck." Jay spoke as your orgasm hit you, you started shivering as he kept going, jay kept thrusting, a ring forming around his dick he began to get sloppy, he went down toward you ear once you slightly calmed down from your orgasm. "Gonna let me fill you up? One good time." You nodded frantically, shaking still "god yes!" He chuckled as he kept going as you started moving your hips too.

"Flip over I need to see your face." And you did so, he took your legs and put one over his shoulder as the other was in his hand as he kept going. You rested your body on your elbows as you let him fuck you. You watched him go in and out of you as you met his eyes, your head falling back as you felt like you could come again just by his gaze you never wanted this to end. His thrust for so sloppy it’s was obvious he was about to come, slammed into you a few times as you came again, he did so groaning so loud, going faster. “Fuck yesss” he hummed as a mixture of both of your comes mixed together. “If you were my girlfriend I swear to god I would do this to you every night.” You were to high to even care about the stupid shit he just said. Feeling him pull out.

He fell back to his knees, as he starting to eating you out, pulling you back towards him as you whined as you made you feel good all over again, slurping up at your juices his nose hit your sensitive clit you cried out, you hand found a way to his messy hair again your thighs were definitely full at this point, you knew you were gonna have another orgasm, as he fucked his tongue into you, you cried. You were sure you loved him.

You vision became blurry as you trembled as your last and final orgasm hit. “God!” You moaned, legs shaky and your grasp on his head tighter then ever. He slurped it up one last time getting after and kissing you, you tired body wrapped your arms around him pulling him in as you made out. The taste of both of you in his and your mouth.

He cleaned you two up, as you sat in a cleaned bed, you leg wrapped over his legs as your arm was over his chest as you sat in silence as he caressed your leg. Nights like this is what you cherished, you did want to do it. But you knew it was needed.. this was the last time you saw him for sure. Or at least that’s what you wanted you woke up to him coming back with a plan B and breakfast giving you a soft kiss. And once again you crawled back to him.

#enhypen smut #kpop smut #enhypen x you #jay x reader #jay smut #jayangst #jay x you #jay fanfic #jay enhypen #jay park smut #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen angst #jay ff #jay angst #jay hard hours #enhypen jay #jay park

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soggyriceee · 3 months ago

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pt 1

when your period was supposed to come and it didn’t, you knew it was because you had a married man’s baby growing inside of you. you felt ridiculous. sleeping with a married man is one thing, but allowing him to cum inside you and give you a baby? that was another. and you felt even more stupid for allowing him to do you like your first baby daddy did.

you didn’t bother to take a test. within the following weeks food disgusted you, even your favorites. water was hard to keep down, and your back hurt more and more each time you thought about it. but you kept a strong, brave face for your son. now allowing him to see mommy fall.

“so, i set the appointment for the 10th.” you had said into the phone, walking past your sons room for the final time tonight to make sure he was sound asleep. “i feel so stupid Marie. how can i be so stupid.”

“well, i cant say you aren’t stupid. you thought you were in love. what’s important is your not making the same.. choice, as you did with your first born.” your friend replied over the phone.

you didn’t have Konigs phone number. heck, you didn’t even know his age. he never opened up to you about his life. all you knew was his wife was terrible to him, and he used the club and you as release. as a breathe of fresh air. you hadn’t bothered to go back to the club either. you let your manager know your situation, and he was nothing but understanding and compassionate.

you began to head up towards your room, when you suddenly got a knock on the door. acknowledging the fact it was 11 at night, you slowly walked to the door, making sure your friend was still on the line. the peep hole was blocked, only adding to the suspense. your neighborhood was known for nightly break ins, apart of the reason as you why having another baby right now was no good choice.

but when you got a second knock, following a familiar voice, you couldn’t help but wrap your hand around the knob and pull the door slowly, slightly, enough for your nose to peek out the crack.

“open the door Scarlet..” the voice would say. for a moment, you were filled with happiness. he wasn’t gone he hadn’t ghosted you, he had come back for you. but then, you immediately felt anger. because while he did come back, he still left.

“i’ll call you tomorrow girl.” you said, opening the door wider and pressing the red button on the screen. in front of you, Konig presented himself, eye bags darker than his skin tone, eyes hooded. he smelled of booze and cigarettes, his oversized hoodie covering his eyebrows as small strands of his black hair peeled through. you couldn’t ignore the bags that he held on his hand, some obviously for you, some obviously for your son.

“i hate you.” was all you could mutter.

“i had a feeling that he would enjoy some ninja turtles pajamas.. you had mentioned how it was his latest hyper fixation.” Konig said, watching as your smile not once left your lips. “he’s gonna love it.”

you placed the pajama back in their bag, placing it beside the other bags he had brought in. the 15 minuets of happiness and gift opening was over, and he knew he had some explaining to do.

“i.. i know i disappeared. but it wasn’t because.. because of what we did.” he began, resting back on his arm. “i had to figure some stuff out. home stuff.. life stuff. i missed you every second. you.. you pushed me through these last two weeks Scarlet.”

you almost didn’t wanna hear what he had to say, still traumatized from your first relationship and how that had gone. “and i know that i was fucked up for doing that to you after what you told me..” his hand grabbed yours, forcing your avoidant eyes to now look at him. “what i said that night.. all of it every last word i meant. i.. i’m in love with you. im so in love with you, i’m willing to take you and your son and.. and our baby to a better place than this.”

you flinched at “our baby”, forgetting that you had another human growing inside of you. “i’m getting an abortion.. on the 10th.. it’s already scheduled.” you blurted.

the air quickly became tight, the only noises that could be heard was the crackheads and drunks outside the apartment. and it stayed like this until he sat up. “you were gonna kill.. our baby?” he asked, trying to make sense of the absurdity that came from you.

you cocked your head to the side, a small chuckle coming from you as you straightened your posture. “i’m sorry.. are we forgetting how you ghosted me for two weeks? the last thing you saying to me was your gonna take care of me and then you disappear? we haven’t seen each other since and you really expected me to go through what i went through the first time again?”

you stood from your bed, stepping over the gifts and walking to your bedroom door. as you began to open it, ready to tell him to fuck off, he grabbed your arm, pulling you to the bed. swiftly, you were beneath him, one hand enough to pin both of yours above your head. “get off me you think i’m in the mood right now? you-you left and i didn’t know if i was even gonna hear from you again.”

you weren’t even surprised that you began to cry, all of the emotions, anger hurt sadness from over the last few weeks coming up at once. you continued to curse him out as quiet as you could, reminding yourself you can’t fully freak out for the sake of your son. but you were hurt, so hurt you felt it in your chest.

but Konig didn’t say anything. he simply listened, his still drunken eyes locked onto yours. he was hurt to. he was hurt that he had hurt you. hurt that you were hurting. but he did it for you. for your, -no- both yours and his son …for your new family.

when you had finished cursing him out, tears still streaming down your face, all he did was kiss you. he pressed his lips to yours, sliding his tongue on easily. his other hand, grabbed your hip gently, pulling it up to meet his. and of course, you kissed him back.

as soon as he got your response, he kissed you harder. his grip on your hip tightened, a low growl coming from him. “i.. i hate you.” you said in between kisses, warning a soft chuckle from him.

he slowly pulled away from you, pulling your bottom lip with him. “yea? you hate me?” he asked, taking his hand from your hip, down to your thigh. grasping it, he pushed it into a butterfly pose, releasing your wrists with his other hand and hooking his pointer finger around your panties.

he had pretended to notice the lack of pants you’ve worn the whole night, nothing but a loose long sleeve on your body. he noticed the french tip toenails too, his favorite. if he hadn’t fucked up by, in your words, ghosting you, he would’ve already been working a third orgasm out of you.

his thumb grazed your cunt, before running his thumb through your lips. you let out a soft moan, your hips jerking back slightly as you remembered this was the first time you were gonna cum since he touched you. period. you were so hurt and confused, an orgasm was the last thing you wanted, remembering how much better it felt when it was Konig making you cum.

“doesn’t feel like you hate me, prinzessin” he would whisper, circling his thumb around your pulsing hole. he would moan softly, a smirk on his lips as he slowly dragged his thumb back up to your clit, massaging small circles against it as a gentle pace. he didn’t want you to cum just yet, but he could tell you wanted to.

your legs, quick to shake, parted more for him, your hips thrusting up. the pit of your stomach turned, your finger nails digging into Konigs poor muscles. but he didn’t care, not one bit. he loved how he’s only just started touching you, and you’re already almost on the edge.

his eyes wandered down to your breasts, noticing how pointy your nipples looked. and, he wanted them.

as his thumb kept massaging your thumping clit, he leaned down to the end of your shirt, gabbing the hem of it and pulling it up with his teeth slowly, taking in every inch of your body up until your breasts. that’s when he locks eyes with you.

“o-oh God..” you whimpered, grinding yourself onto him more, needing more.

he let your shirt go, licking his lips as he looks at your bare breasts. “play with them.. you wanna cum play with those pretty nipples.” he said, moving his thumb away from

almost immediately your hands went from his arms to your nipples, rolling the sensitive buds in your fingers. he moaned softly, placing his thumb right back on your clit. your eyes rolled back, the amount of stimulation your body was getting becoming almost too much.

meanwhile in konigs pants, he was sure he had potentially creamed his pants as soon as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, but he wanted to believe he wasn’t a loser and it was only pre cum. a lot of pre cum.

“open for me baby come here.. open that mouth.” he grabbed your chin with his free hand, hooking his thumb around your bottom row teeth, forcing your mouth open. almost simultaneously, he slid his noticeably empty ring finger inside your cunt, earning a surprised moan from you.

“oh this pussy is so tight baby it’s been waiting for me huh?” he moaned, his eyebrows furrowing as your wetness coated his finger within two pumps. “nobody else has touched it right? you’ve been a good girl and waited for me hm?” he asked, sliding in a second finger as you gave him a loud yes.

your stomach was doing turns, your orgasm coming quickly and you had no intention of loosing it. the way konigs thumb continues to rub on your pulsing clit as his fingers worked their way in and out of you, it was too much truthfully.

konig felt you clenching around him, you whimpers turning into long whines. more “pre cum” filled his boxers, surely leaving a large wet spot right around his red tip.

konigs hand pressed against your mouth, leaning down to your ear. “ cum prinzessin… you deserve it, you deserve it..” he praised, keeping that same pace as you shook beneath him, Konig desperately dry humping be bed between your legs, making himself cum, yes cum, in his pants yet again.

your eyes fluttered shut, konigs hand coming off of your mouth. his head rested in your chest as he kept his fingers inside of you, slowly pumping them as he too shut his eyes closed.

he was drunk. so drunk that he believed that he indeed had the energy to make you both cum again.

he slid his fingers out your still throbbing cunt, smiling at the small whine you make. he pulls himself off the bed, looking down at your lifeless body. it made him hard yet again, the feeling of the cold, sticky substance in his pants making him even more hard.

he pulled his pants down, taking note of the amount of his own cum covering up to the middle of his cock, his tip angry red. tossing them on the ground, he made work of your panties, tossing them somewhere in the same direction oh his.

crawling on top of you, your eyes slowly peeled open, looking down to his horse third leg cock only inches away from your hole, his tip kissing your sticky lips.

“koni i..” you swallowed, your mouth dry, “i cant.” you said, shaking your head. he laughed, grabbing his cock as he dragged his tip in between your lips. “off my fingers alone i’ve fucked you too well? you must’ve really missed me liebling.” he chuckled, pressing his tip to your hole.

it wasn’t at all that you were worn out. or maybe you were, he should give you a break! it’s been so long since you’ve had an orgasm at all. it was the fact you could never take him fully sitting up!

when you and Konig first had sex, you asked him if you could strictly be on top, and he understood 100 percent. “if i ever get you on your back, would you stop me?” he would ask, his hands on your hips as you bounced up and down on him, just enough for him to just barely be hitting your gspot.

you cant remember what you said to that truthfully, both you and konig so drunk, you were surely over your paid time.

slowly, be pushed his tip in, gasping as his tip plugged right into your hole. he pulled his hips back, and then forward again, just enough to be fucking his tip in and out of you alone. the mix of his cum and yours was enough to get an orgasm out of him, but he refused. he wanted to feel what all of you felt like.

he slid back out, repositioning himself as he grabbed the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer. your eyes watched as his cock rested on your lower stomach, his tip reaching the top of your bellybutton. “k-koni please just do it how we usually do.” you asked, pleaded really, taking note of how he was dragging his tongue across his lips, smirking at how far he was gonna fuck into you.

“it’s okay my love… m’gonna train this pussy to take all of me.” he said, taking your hand in his as he smiled down at your panicked face.

with his free hand he grabbed his cock, again pushing himself into you up until his tip. “you’re so wet.. it won’t even hurt.” he said, not even looking at you and instead where your bodies connected.

slowly, inch by inch, he pushed into you, stopping every time you winced out. it was going good until he he began to get greedy. he was impatient and truthfully, just wanted to absolutely use you like a flimsy little pocket pussy he bought off a sketchy website. the liquor in his body also had something to do with it.

his hand pressed your face to the side, his other hand holding your hip to the bed as his hips began moving back and forth, almost with no time to spare. his eyes crossed, feeling your warm, wet gummy walls sucking his cock back in, his tip never leaving your pussy. he was in heaven, his mouth hanging open, tongue slightly hanging out as drool collected at the tip of his tongue, slowly drooling down from him.

you, on the other hand, were fighting for your life. it felt good, way too good. of course, his tip hitting at your cervix felt like hell. but it felt so good at the same time. “k-koni it h..it hurts.” you panted, your hands gripping his wrist to move his hand off your head.

and he did. to instead wrap it right around your throat. he pulled you up by your neck, connecting your lips together. drool sept from both you guys’ lips, the both of you moaning into each others mouths as his cock abused your hole.

“i-i’m all the way inside you.. fuck i’m gonna c-cum so deep… so deep inside this pussy.” he moaned out, his eyes hooded as he kept his grip on your throat.

his other hand remained on your hip, making sure you weren’t moving at all as his hips rutted into you. “i-it hurts.. please slow-“ but konig pressed the hand that was on your throat back onto your mouth, pressing your head into the mattress. “shut the fuck up.” he would mutter, pushing your legs up to your chest.

immediately, his hips would slam onto your ass, his balls making contact with your skin. he was gonna cum without even having time to react, the feeling of your wet, warmth was too much for him. it was something he hadn’t felt in ages.

he had never told you, but him and his wife’s marriage truly was done years ago. but for the sake of kids and work. he stayed. the first time you both had sex, was the first time in 10 years he had sex. his wife didn’t touch him. and slowly over the last two years, stopped sleeping in the same room as him.

“l-liebling… oh i’m gonna cum in you i’m gonna cum.” he whimpered, looking down at your face. your eyes were squeezed shut, your legs shaking violently as your second orgasm made its way through your body. “w-wait for me my love wait for me.” he panted, quickly wrapping your legs around his waist, his hands on your hips.

“i c- i cant.” you cried out, your fingers rushing to your clit. but he slapped your hand away, earning a cry from you. “i know i know i know.. i’m so close my love i’m s-so… oh fuck.”

his body hovered over you, pressing your hips further to the bed as his jaw fell open. “come liebling come right now come… oh-oh yes~” his hips gave you one final thrust, his tip hitting right at your cervix as his come poured deep into you. your legs shook around him, your back arching up and off the bed as you came and pulsed around his own pulsing sex, your fingers digging into his back and dragging down as you both came over the high.

slowly he rocked his hips, giving small whines at his cock kept pulsing more come from him. “o…oh i cant breathe.” he mumbled, collapsing on top of you.

you both stayed like this, the sound of rain slowly starting to come down. you had begun to fall asleep until Konig spoke into your neck. “marry me.” was all he would say.

that’s when you remembered his empty ring finger. “i already have a ring at our new home. we can’t have it yet i’m still.. still in the process of things..but i promise you by the end of this year.. i’ll sign any papers i’ll take your son in as my own i’ll raise him like my own and. and well even have a new baby too.”

he say up, now looking at you. when you open your mouth to respond, all you could do was cry. and he didn’t even need you to say any words for him to know you meant yes.

would you guys believe me is i said i wrote this whole smoking a joint AGAHAHAG

#cod #call of duty fan fiction #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #konig #konig fanfiction #konig smut #konig cod

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mmurderhousewrites · 9 months ago

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Rich Baby Daddy pt. one (sukuna x reader)

Summary: You're invited to a party by a close friend and end up bumping into someone from your past.

Warnings: none.

The mornings used to be your favorite. Waking up next to your hunk of a man. The sun shining through your bedroom windows. Oh how you missed those lovely mornings.

Now however, your mornings consisted of you waking up at the crack of dawn due to your crying 4 year old. bathing and clothing not only yourself but your child as well, making breakfast, and somehow managing to get to work on time.

Now on your days off, if you were lucky, Yuji, your son, would sleep in. And if god was somehow on your side that day, your baby daddy might even come pick up his son for awhile, giving you some free time. But those days were rare considering Sukuna is a business man.

Sukuna is the CEO of jujutsu tech, a huge electronic corporation. you had met him through your close friend getou and hit it off. Eventually you two moved in with each other and not long after that he got you pregnant.

Times have changed though unfortunatley. Sukuna is a very hard working man, so hardworking that he put his job before his own family. About a year after yuji was born you decided to leave after getting into a big argument with sukuna, taking yuji with you.

At first you stayed with your parents for a while before finding yourself a cute apartment in the city, it was a two bedroom 1 and a half bathroom. That's where you and yuji have been ever since.

You and your baby dad have had a neutral relationship ever since, sukuna of course always trying to get you to go back but times have changed and you are a new woman.

As of now it was about 1:00pm. You worked as a journalist in the new station in the city, not to far from your apartment. sitting at your desk, going through old news feed, your phone dings.

Looking over you see youve gotten a message. It was from Getou.

Geto: hey, theres some kind of party later a friend of mine is hosting. Wanted to know if u were interested in being my plus 1 ;p

You giggle to yourself. What a flirt. You could always drop yuji off to your parents for the night, after all they loved your little pink haired baby. And on top of that you could use a night out.

Quickly typing back to geto you respond,

Me: Sounds interesting.. Whats the dresscode?

geto: formal. I figure you might get a good story out of one of these rich folks huh?

Me: hmmm i think im sold suguru.

geto: great! ill pick you up at 8.

"L/N! I'm not paying you to text on your phone! I need a story!" You hear your boss, Mark yell from his office behind you.

You roll your eyes before collecting your things, standing up you head over to marks office. "The Richardsons are hosting a party tonight, i'm gonna see what tea i can find. I know the juliani"s are hiding something." You say leaning against the door frame.

"yeah well the Juliani's have a mind of their own."

"im gonna leave to go get ready." you say turning around, heading to the exit.

"L/N!" Mark calls out to you making you stop and turn to face him. "be careful. I don't need another Journalist coming up missing." You nod your head before leaving the building and heading to the parking lot.

It was true, the last journalist who went to investage the Juliani family, they turned up missing. In fact it was your coworker Nobara Kugisaki. Police reports were made out by her family about a week ago and nothing has come up.

you shivered as you walked to your car, the cold making it so you can see your breathe. Once you reached your car, a small 2020 Honda civic, you opened your door and put your bags in.

"Y/n" you freeze, hearing that oh so sexy voice say your name for the first time in what? months?

Turning around you find yourself face to face with the man you once loved, oh who are you kidding still love. He was wearing a long black coat and black jeans, his pink hair ruffled as usual and his tattoos just added to his handsome features.

"ryo- what are you doing here?" You ask, crossing your arms.

He walks closer to you, making you take a step back, leaning against your cars back door.

"i just wanted to see you." He says quietly, swiping a piece of your hair out of your face and behind your ear. You can't help but blush.

Pushing his hand away, you roll your eyes. "What are you really here for" you werent an idiot. Sukuna is a powerful man and busy one at that, there was no way he got out of work just to come see you.. especially considering he barely seen your son. But you couldn't be mad after all he was sending you checks every few weeks with at least 3,000$ on them.. so he was still providing for you and yuji in a way.

He chuckles, "I heard youre going to that party later with Getou.."

Was he serious right now? "What about it?" You question, eyebrow perking up.

"Don't go." He says darkly.

"Are you kidding me? What are you jealous? I'm a grown woman i deserve a night out once in a while!" You say before turning away and hoping in your car.

Sukuna leans against your window, so you roll it down. "Look kitten, if i were you i'd actually listen to your baby dad for once. It's not gonna be pretty" he smiles before backing away from your car.

You take this opportunity to pull out of the parking lot, making your way to yuji's daycare.

When you arrive at the daycare. You are first greeted by gojo, one of the daycare teachers and also getou's best friend.

"Well hello there Y/N! Here for yuuji?" Gojo asks, leaning towards you. "Its nap time right now so the children are asleep."

"Well unfortunately i'm going to have ti disturb his sleep because we have a pretty busy schedule for tonight" you laugh. "How have you been?" You havent really had a conversation with gojo in a while, you and him werent close, maybe because of how much of an extrovert he is.

"Im alriiight! I got a new apartment on 37th its a real beautyy." He drags on.

"Nice! Thats good to here" gojo pulls out his walky talky and yells loudly, "yuji has an early dismissal!!"

Next thing you know, theres a bunch of crying children in the next room over. What an idiot. You mentally facepalm.

Shoko, another daycare teacher comes out with yuji in her arms. He looks over to you and smiles.

After you get yuji and yourself situated in the car, you guys make your way over to your parents house. You had called them on your way to get yuji and of course they were more then thrilled to take yuji for the night.

Your parents lived anout 25 minutes away from the city so the drive wasnt too bad. Yuji was in his carseat playing on his ipad and minding his business.

"Mommy can i have 100$" your four year old says randomly. You cant help but laugh loudly.

"What do you need $100 for butt?" You ask, looking back at your som through the rear view mirror.

"I want a trampoline" he says, looking at you.

"You already have a trampoline at Nana's house and youre going there right now."

"But thats at nana's i want my own! My friend megumi has one at his house" he says, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah yeah."

After dropping your sin off to your parents, and making your way make home, you look through your closet trying to find a decent formal dress. You did have quit a few dresses considering you and sukuna would attend parties and other get togethers for business reasons.

Coming across a long black velvet dress you stop your search. This dress is skin tight and strapless, but has small diamonds adorned around the dress, making it sparkle just right.

Once you got dressed and finished your makeup, you put your hair up into a slick back ponytail, and added a little star charm clip to go with it. You looked absolutely gorgeous. Though your choice in heels would definitely make your feet sore after a night of dancing, looking good is what truly mattered. After all you were really only going to collect some dirt on any of the business men doing work with the Juliani's.

Tonight sure was going to be interesting.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #gojo #yuji #yujiitadori #toji fushiguro #megumi fushiguro #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jjk headcannons

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locomoqo · 2 months ago

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me and my husband

— gitae kim x gn!reader

details: pure fluff, established relationship, gitae is ur hubby!

A/N: im doing fluff bc im still playing around with how to write gitae's character (also it's what the spin the wheel chose🌝)

Gitae isn't a perfect husband, but he tries his best to be a good one. He’ll only ever try for you. Through all the bloodshed he's faced and caused, you're the one good thing in his life—the only thing that keeps him grounded. At first, your affection threw him off, he'd never experienced anything like it. But he got used to it. He learned from you, and he tries to show it back, no matter how awkward it feels sometimes due to his bluntness.

He believes you deserve the best of everything. That’s why, even after he married you, he does his best to shield you from the darker parts of his world—the violence, the drugs, the chaos—even though you’re aware of the life he leads. You're his haven, his one escape from all the madness.

Gitae stood by the window, the faint glow of his cigarette the only light in the dark room. His jaw was tense, his mind racing with the events of the day—from the trades to the insignificants trying to grab his territory. He exhaled slowly, the smoke swirling around him like the shadows he walked in every day.

Then, he heard it, a soft rustling of the sheets behind him.

“Gitae?” your sleepy voice broke the silence, gentle but insistent. “What are you doing up? Come back to bed.”

His hardened expression softened instantly at the sound of your voice. Turning, he saw you curled up under the covers, your hair tousled from sleep. The sight of you made the weight on his shoulders a little lighter.

“Thinking about work again?” you asked when he slid back under the covers and sat beside you, leaning against the headboard.

He only hummed in response, taking another drag from his cigarette before tapping the ash into the tray beside the bed.

“You work too much,” you mumbled, reaching out to lace your fingers with his. Your hand, small and delicate, was a sharp contrast to his rough, calloused one. “You should be resting too.”

It was true. The bags under his eyes seemed to deepen every day, yet somehow, they suited him.

“You worry too much,” he said, leaving the still lit up cigarette in the tray. He glanced down at you, his eyes softer now.

“And you don’t worry enough,” you replied with a small frown, sitting up to look at him properly. “What will it take for you to listen to me?”

He let out a low chuckle, deep and rare, a sound reserved only for you. Leaning down, he kissed the top of your head, your familiar scent calming him more than anything else ever could. You pressed your cheek against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I missed you today,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “You’ve been distant.”

He stilled for a moment, his hand pausing on your back. "Don't mean to be," he said quietly, his voice rough.

You looked up at him, studying his face before offering him that soft, reassuring smile you always gave when he let his guard down.

“I know,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. It was slow, tender, and filled with warmth, spreading through him like a balm.

“I’ll make it up to ya,” he murmured, deepening the kiss as he cupped your cheek, pulling you closer.

You pulled away after a few minutes, just enough to catch your breath, your fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. “I’ll forgive you if you go to sleep before you drive yourself crazy,” you teased, leaning over to put out his cigarette completely so he wouldn’t be tempted to pick it up again.

With a soft sigh, he gave in, letting you guide him down into the bed. You curled up next to him, his arm wrapped around you protectively. In that moment, he displayed a rare show of vulnerability—you're the only one who will ever hold his heart in the palm of your hand.

#gitae kim x reader #gitae kim #lookism gitae #kitae kim #lookism #lookism x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #fluff #lookism imagines

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woahjo · 10 months ago

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The People We Became (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Zombie Apocalypse Au.

The world fell apart almost a year ago and you refused to go with it. Left alone and to your own devices in a world full of monsters, where the dead come back to life, you believe that maybe surviving isn't living.

When Katsuki finds you alone in the woods and on the precipice of collapsing from exhaustion, he decides to bring you back to the house his group calls home. Against your better judgement and hesitancy to become attached, you decide to stay. In this world, everyone has lost someone. No soul is spared the violence, and you start sleeping with Bakugou Katsuki to dull the ache. Somehow, peace finds you anyway, but not without sacrifice.

Chapter Content Warnings: fem!reader, gender neutral pronouns, strangers to lovers, violence typical of zombies, blood, gore, romance, slow-ish burn (for the emotional stuff), angst, kissin', questions of identity, loss, grief, graphic depictions of death and/or violence, mentions and descriptions of starvation/exhaustion typical of an apocalypse setting, very slight implications of possible sexual violence typical of an apocalypse setting, derealization, depersonalization, weapons (guns, blades, and traps), loss of identity

All content warnings can be found on ao3 with the rest of the series.

Word Count: 14.4k — 53k total on ao3

A/N: it's finally done... i'm sweating. i screamed. i cried. i bled. you know the drill. i am posting this a little differently than my other fics and series. only the first chapter will be posted here on tumblr (this post), with the rest of it broken up into chapters and posted on ao3.. purely because it was originally meant as a one shot and i don't like posting chapters on tumblr. it's not built for that and im tired. anyway, im nervous this is my new baby and im pretty sure my soul is somewhere in here. if u read this, pls come tell me what you think.. it fuels me. enjoy, cry, sweat, or whatever else you do when you read. as always, thank you and i love you.

Two hundred and seventy six. It’s been two hundred and seventy six days since the world completely went to shit. You don’t really count the initial outbreak. The initial outbreak was relatively contained once people found out about it. You quarantined. You stayed inside. All it really took were a handful of idiots. Someone selfish. Someone who panicked and ran instead of facing the world honorably, and that was it. It only took days to lose almost every semblance of a normal life and a week to lose everything else.

The light of your fire is dim, embers burning low as you sit in a foldable chair beside it. The chair is from a friend, someone you’re not with anymore and who went somewhere you couldn’t follow, and you've got a metal spatula in your hand. You're not sure why you grabbed it when you fled, but panic does weird things to the mind. You absentmindedly wonder why you’ve brought it along with you all this time. There’s no logical reason for you to tote the thing around. A friend had told you how strange it was that you thought to toss it into your bag and continue carrying it. This, along with a few other oddities, are all you managed to take from your house when the world fell to ruin. Everything else are things scavenged along the way or from people you'd met, joined, and lost.

Maybe it’s because the spatula is somewhat normal, like somehow when you cook the game on your makeshift tin over your shitty fire, you can pretend you’re in your kitchen. A smash burger sounds good right now, with grilled onions on a brioche bun like the ones from the place by your apartment.

The night is near silent and trees creak and crack like the hulls of great ships under heavy pressure, but the birds don't sing and nothing in the crowded wood you're taking shelter in makes a sound. Well, except for you and the gentle crackle of your fire.

It’s easy to miss the noise that used to irritate you when the world goes quiet. You used to hate the sounds and lights of passing trucks when they’d cross on the street below your apartment window. Now, you’d do anything for the familiar comfort. The world is so dark and quiet, like it’s holding its breath and waiting for this to be over. The silence is almost too much, so loud that it hurts your ears. You huddle closer to the fire, craving its quiet sound. Focusing on it lessens the anxiety of the other noises. The ones you don’t want to hear.

Your head is on a swivel. It has been for months. Ever since the outbreak, ever since the dead rose and began consuming and infecting the living, you've kept watch. A paranoid, never ending cycle that you suppose—if left on your own—will burn itself out. You swallow thick and return your attention to the fire, watching the tree line just in front of you for any hint of movement or monsters.

A branch cracks just behind you. A swift sound, followed by rapid footsteps. You stand, quickly turning your head, only to see a figure a few feet away from you. They move quickly and the dancing light of the fire obscures their features from view. Their eyes, most importantly. You can always tell if someone is dead or alive based on their eyes and the sounds that their joints make. In this light, should this stranger have that milky white film over them, you wouldn't be able to tell.

You make a small noise, something between a whimper and a shout, as the person comes to a stop in front of you and holds a flashlight directly into your face. You squint, panic in your veins as your eyes adjust as best they can to the sudden assault. It takes you a moment to realize that there is a gun pointed directly at your forehead. The living. This person is alive. You're not sure yet if encountering one of the dead would have been worse.

"Shut up and drop your weapon," he says in a hurried voice. It's aggressive and threatening. It comes from deep in his chest, like somehow fear has gripped and mutilated it into something violent.

You raise your shaky hands to your head quickly at the order, screwing your eyes shut in the beam of the flashlight.

"It's not a weapon!" you shout, voice cracking. "It's a spatula. It's a spatula."

The words are rushed and heavy, fear seizing your chest as you look down the barrel of the gun. The flashlight turns off, sending you back into the dark. Your eyes fight to adjust, catching the firelight that glints off of the barrel, and you begin to makeout the man’s features. He's big, blonde under the grime, you think. A man, not the best thing to encounter alone at night in times like these.

You see him hesitate for a moment, eyes darting between you and the silver kitchen item in your hand. You drop it quickly, hoping to appeal to his humanity.

"Do you have a weapon on you?" he questions, voice a little less urgent.

You shake your head in response and then shakily look beside the chair, choking out the word “ground”. There's a knife there and a pistol with no bullets. You're a poor shot and you had run out of ammo the previous week. He glances at it, the gun still raised at you, and sidesteps to grab the two items. When he does, he cautiously lowers the weapon and you start to lower your trembling hands.

Then, as if struck by some realization, the man stomps towards the fire and you jump as he does.

"The fuck are you doing lighting a fire this late?" he says angrily, opening the clip of your pistol. "And with no fucking bullets. Those things may be dead, but they can still fuckin' see. That's a good way to get yourself killed."

He stomps out the fire as he talks, urgently stamping out what's left of the low-burning logs.

"I didn't think there were many in the area," you justify, furrowing your eyebrows as you step away from him.

"And that's a risk you want to take?" he says indignantly. You wonder briefly what business he has worrying about you.

"What do you want?" you snap, "My food? Weapons? Life? What is it?"

The man scoffs, "Jesus, none of that. I don’t want your shit."

You narrow your eyes and take a step back. One thing this world has done is remove trust from every chance encounter, and that was already hard enough when the place was sane.

"Not all people who camp out in the woods are good," he says. "But I sure as shit didn't expect to find someone like you alone lighting a damn fire. Stupid."

"There were others," you say indignantly, like somehow that makes it better. "Force of habit, I guess."

The man pauses for a moment as understanding passes between the two of you. It's a relatable feeling. Everyone has lost someone now.

"Got a name?" he asks.

You hesitate in giving it to him and the pause causes him to roll his eyes. “You want me to call you Idiot-with-no-bullets instead?”

You give him your name and the man nods as if he likes the sound of it, turning it over in his head before inhaling.

"I'm Katsuki," he furrows his eyebrows. "You're alone?"

You nod, swallowing down the grief that pushes at your throat.

"Wasn't always," you respond, "but yeah. Now, I am."

He nods his understanding.

"Come with me."

"Where?" you say instinctively, a defensive edge to your voice. Katsuki looks at you as if you’re stupid, or maybe it's pity, like you're a wounded animal. Probably both.

"Where the fuck do you think?" he retorts. "We've got a camp a little ways from here. I saw your fire from the watch post we have stationed."

You look at him like he's a little crazy for even thinking to bring you. Kindness, especially the selfless type, is so rare now and you find it difficult to believe that he’s willing to take you there at no cost.

He scoffs and rolls his head over his shoulder. "Look, we've got men and women," then he pauses. "Used to have children. We're not gonna hurt you. World's gone to shit, do you really wanna keep at it alone?"

He's probably right. You've been alone for weeks now, exhausted for longer, and though your common sense tells you not to go off with a strange man in this kind of world, the promise of rest is far too tempting. You nod and glance back to your camp. A measly collection of supplies haphazardly put together. You suppose that it doesn’t look so promising.

"We'll come back for it when it's light," he says. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not spend longer in these dark ass woods than I have to."

"Okay," you say. The presence of another person both sets you on edge and makes you feel the press of fatigue even more. A gun's barrel on your nose followed by the promise of safety and you're going with him? You must be stupider than a horror movie protagonist. "Do you take in a lot of strays?"

Katsuki looks over his shoulder and you think you see him smile a little at the phrase.

"If that's what you want to call it," he says begrudgingly. Then, with a softer tone of voice, barely noticeable with the quiet whisper you both have been speaking at. "I'm sure the others won't mind one more."

You nod a little and follow him through the wood, stepping over obstacles. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark, but you feel unsteady on your feet. Everything you’ve ever learned about this world tells you that maybe you shouldn’t go with him. What if they’re dangerous? It’s easy to lie about women and children, about a community that doesn’t exist. Or worse, it’s easy to fool yourself that where you are is good, but you don’t know yet if he’s the type to delude himself. He doesn’t seem it.

The two of you walk for what feels like forever, even if it is only a little over half a mile. Your feet have been aching for days and every step you take feels like a blade into the heel. Katsuki seems steady, his gun secured at his hip and a large knife in his dominant hand. He doesn’t have the flashlight out, but he seems sure-footed and takes every step in stride, as if he’s too heavy to be swayed by any missed step.

As you move, you can barely make out his back in the white tank top he wears. You use it as a landmark, following the glowing white as it catches the light from the moon. Like chasing a ghost through the trees.

Then, the wood eases up. The trees grow sparse and the suffocating humidity of the forest eases into a more breathable, open-air breeze. Katsuki steps out into a clearing. It’s relatively small, for how large the world is, but it’s some of the most open space you’ve seen in a while. The feeling of stepping out into the tall grass, where you’re both visible to any wandering thing, sends a rush of fear through you.

By the edge of the clearing, there’s a small house with a short steeple. It almost looks like a Christian church, but you get the sense that it’s likely a barn. That must be the watchtower and you wonder just how good the view of the forest is from up there if Katsuki managed to see the light of your fire. How many other people had seen your fires over the weeks and not made it out to confront you? How close had you come before to safety or annihilation?

"Hey!" a girl's voice calls. "He's back!"

In the near distance, you can see a large and dimly lit house. It looks a little worn down, but soft and hardly noticeable light emanates from it in a way that makes it seem inviting.You can’t make out its exact silhouette and night blurs just how broken-down it is, but you can tell that people live there in the same way you can tell when someone has just left a room.

Someone runs across the field to you both. It looks like a man and a woman, maybe around Katsuki's age. They move quickly through the tall grass and for a moment, the urgency that they move with frightens you. You worry that your presence will ignite some protective sort of panic. You linger back, letting Katsuki grow a little farther from you as they call out to him.

“Yeah, yeah," he half-shouts, no longer seeming to care about keeping quiet. Guess that's what happens when there's a group. "I found the fire I mentioned."

The two come to a stop in front of him, resting their hands on their hips as they catch the breath they lost.

"We started to get a little worried," says the girl. She's pretty, with big eyes and curly hair that looks like it probably used to be dyed. "You've been gone for a while."

"Well, I'm back," he says.

"And you brought a friend," the other man says, sounding shocked. His tone is noticeably kind. The boisterous type of kind and when he smiles, you can see that he has sharp canines. His hair is straight, sticking out in different directions, and tinged with red in this light.

"More like an acquaintance," Katsuki says. “I found them in the woods with a fire and an empty clip. Felt like their blood would be on my hands if I didn’t bring them back.” The red-haired man gives him a telling look and Katsuki scoffs in response and turns to the girl. "Get them settled, Mina, will you?" The girl called Mina nods and Katsuki takes off toward the house without another word.

"You're lucky," she says, pausing when you flinch as she steps closer. "You're gettin' the last solo room in the place. Kirishima, is it set up?"

Kirishima shrugs his shoulders. "You'd have to ask Izuku. He'd know all about that, but I can go check."

Mina shakes her head and turns her attention to you, giving you a quick once over with her eyebrows pulled together.

"You must be tired.”

When you nod, she gives you an empathetic smile and motions for you to come with her. "We'll fix that. You hungry?"

"What do you think?" you manage, saliva pooling in your mouth. "Do you have food?"

"Plenty," she smiles. "not quite enough for leftovers just yet though, don’t tell anyone."

You smile awkwardly. Who on earth would you tell?

"Sounds like a good deal," you say.

You follow Mina up to the house. Around it, there are a few parked cars. They look like they could pull out at any moment, and through the dust covered windows, you can just make out supplies in the back seats as you pass. In the distance, you can see the fuzzy silhouette of the barn you’d assumed was a watchtower in the dark of the field and you figure that maybe it used to be a place to keep livestock.

Mina doesn't say much to you as you pass through the field, and when you walk into the door, the first thing you notice is a large group of people seated at a dining table. They all look up at you when you enter and it's with a bit of shock that you register their faces as healthy. Well, healthier. These people live well. Something stirs in your chest, both anxiety and excitement at the thought of possibly having found somewhere safe. They blink at you for a moment, exchanging looks that all end up landing on Katsuki.

"This is the group. Well, most of us," Mina says pleasantly and with a light huff. "That's Izuku, Denki, Ochako, Sero, and you already know the handsome guy on the end there. Kiri's probably checking to see if the room is half decent.." They all greet you with a glad murmur. "Group, this is..."

She looks at you expectantly. When you tell them your name, you can't help but look at Katsuki who already knows it. He raises his eyebrows unconsciously and turns his attention to the glass in front of him.

There’s an awkward pause as you stand in the doorway, suddenly conscious of just how dirty you must look. Remnants of an older world, you suppose. No one really worries about things like that anymore.

“Uhm…” you search for something to say, but your people skills seem to have left you.

“You’re okay,” Mina says lightly. “Plenty of time to get to know you when you’ve rested and had something to eat.”

Mina sits you down at a chair that she pulls in from the other room. It doesn't match the other ones in the dining room, but you suppose no one is really thinking of the decor in their house anymore. It's only now that you realize the house has electricity.

"You have power?" you say incredulously, looking at the center light in the dining room on its low setting.

"Mhm," Mina hums as she sits down next to you and spoons a helping of vegetables onto your plate. "It's got a generator. We got lucky finding this place. I don't think many of us would be alive if we hadn't."

Those listening in the group nod their affirmation.

"It draws from well water too," she adds. "With the right care, the place practically runs on its own. Hard work but what isn't nowadays?"

“Like you do any of the heavy lifting," Sero scoffs across from her.

"That's not fair," Katsuki adds with a slick smirk, "you know damn well none of our vegetables would be so well socialized if she didn't use them like a damn diary all day."

The group laughs a little and Mina rolls her eyes and sits back in the chair. You avoid looking at anyone, shoveling the food into your mouth. You’re salivating an almost embarrassing amount, struggling to eat at a normal pace. There’s something about food cooked inside, about the way food tastes when you can smell it wafting in from the kitchen.

"Don't worry," she turns to you, as if you’re at all concerned with the implication that she doesn’t do much work, "they know we’d hardly have vegetables at all if it weren't my job to tend them. I used to garden quite a bit before all of this."

Sero tosses her a sideways glance and you get the sense that maybe it isn’t just her doing it.

"Mina does a lot of the garden stuff," Ochako pitches in, her voice hesitant. "We all sort of just do what we can."

You can’t really keep up with the conversation and instead just blink at her for a moment before turning back to your food. Maybe that’s rude, but you don’t have the energy to consider it. There’s food in front of you. Food that doesn’t taste like it’s been poorly slaughtered or rotting in a cabinet for months.

The group at the table with you shifts back into what you feel is their normal conversation and you watch them through your peripheral. You can’t relax yet, maybe you never will. Always on watch with your guard up.

They pass the dishes around the table, plates going from hand to hand over mismatched sets of silverware. The action feels strange to you. Your chest squeezes at the thought. Just a few weeks ago, you’d done this around a fire with the people you loved. You’d passed a too-hot-to-touch pot around a circle of friends, laughing quietly at the little moments of joy you could find. It feels far away now and jealousy rouses beside hope as you sit.

“So, where did you come from?” Izuku at the end of the table asks.

It takes you a moment to realize that he’s talking to you and there’s an edge to his voice that has everyone at the table sitting up with curiosity. You stare at him for a moment, exhausted and defeated and unable to muster the words.

“Leave them be,” Katsuki says, looking up from his plate. “They just got here. They’re probably freaked out.”

The table goes a little quiet, a hush falling over it. You look around as glances are exchanged before Mina stands up quickly and quietly claps her hands together.

“I think,” she says with an awkward laugh, “it may be time for bed.”

Mina turns to you. “I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

You nod, standing up and turning to the group with furrowed eyebrows. You want to thank them, to tell them that you’re grateful for the meal and their kindness, but the words don’t come. Instead, you meet Katsuki’s gaze, grateful for the intervention, but suspicious at such forthcoming kindness. He scoffs a little and turns away.

—

“It’s just up here,” Mina says as she guides you through the house.

You pass rooms with their doors ajar. They are lived in, with unmade beds and glasses of clean water on nightstands. It’s like something out of a life gone by, with a few less amenities. You can imagine a family moving through this house. Girls in school uniforms calling through the halls about a stolen hair clip. Now, you picture these people doing that. Living and not just surviving.

“The bathroom is across the hall,” she says. “You can take a shower if you want. I’ll leave a towel and some clothes in there just in case.”

You nod.

“No worries if you don’t,” Mina adds in a whisper. “When I first met everyone, I didn’t undress to bathe for days so… take your time. We won’t be offended.”

She shuts the door behind her when she leaves and you stumble back onto the bed, shocked by just how soft it feels after spending weeks on the floor. It’s not much, but it’s nicer than anything you’ve experienced in the last nine months, and there's a working shower. You haven’t had a shower since everything fell apart and the layer of grime on your skin is so thick that you can feel it. You haven’t felt safe enough to properly wash since you’d lost the rest of your group, only stopping to rinse your body in streams you pass if the thought occurred to you. The idea of running water and a shower is near euphoric.

You probably shouldn’t. It may not be wise to shower tonight. You still don’t know these people or what they’re capable of, but the temptation of being clean is too great and as soon as you hear Mina close the bathroom door and walk away, you hurry across the hall on the balls of your feet.

The bathroom looks old and the sink is white porcelain, eggshell now with a lack of care. The shower has a bathtub in it and though it’s cloudy, there’s a mirror over the sink where you catch the first clear glimpse you’ve had of yourself in weeks.

You don’t know who you’re looking at. The person in the mirror is nearly unrecognizable. Their eyes are wide and frightened, wild like an animal’s, and their face is covered in a layer of grime that looks like it can never be washed out. Their hair is unruly, sticking out in some areas and matted down with blood in others. This is a person you’ve never seen or met before. Someone you would have avoided only a year ago if you’d ever encountered them.

You reach up to touch your face, running your hand over the dried blood that has made a home on the underside of your jaw. How long has it been there? Have you always looked so unwell? So sick in mind and body? The promise of a shower grows unbearably pleasant.

The knob squeaks when you turn it, screeching as the pipes hum and clang to life. Water spits out in a few bursts before raining down from the faucet and hitting the back of the tub in a steady thrum. It sounds a little bit like music to you, constant and heavy, and it gives the impression of normalcy as you begin undressing.

The fabric of your clothes sticks to your skin, peeling from your body in an unbearable and disgusting way. You don’t look at your body in the mirror. In fact, you avoid it entirely. Not recognizing your face was enough, but your body—a part of yourself you never really recognized—would drive you over the edge.

Then, you pull the shower curtain back and stick your hand under the water, stepping into it fully with a deep sigh. The water is lukewarm. They probably turned off the heater to conserve power and allow the main generator to function for longer. That’s fine. Beggars can’t be choosers and everyone is a beggar nowadays. Besides, it’s warm enough outside that the water isn’t too cold as it is. In the winter, you probably wouldn’t be able to shower and the pipes might freeze entirely until the following spring.

There’s a normalcy that you settle into as you wash your body. You return to muscle memory, running your hands over your skin and scrubbing the grime out. It’s simultaneously like the first shower of your life and as if you’ve been doing it every day. You return to a state of pleasant, familiar humanity as you wash away dirt that has built up for weeks. You feel as it pours off of you, see it run down your body onto the porcelain of the tub and swirl down the drain. It’s dirt and dried blood that has been caked onto your skin. You worry that even after washing, it will leave a permanent mark.

The person in the mirror when you get out of the shower is in stark contrast to the person who went into it. They’re someone that you recognize. You could almost convince yourself that nothing ever changed. Your water-soaked skin is so familiar to you, that you could be getting out of the shower and dressing to go to work. If it weren’t for the look in your eyes, you could have fooled yourself. Something undefinable has changed in you, something that you will carry with you forever. You glance at yourself in the foggy mirror and think that there is no going back.

The house is quiet when you dry yourself and open the bathroom door. You step across the hall on the balls of your feet, careful not to make any noise, and when you push the bedroom door open, you do a visual sweep to make sure that it’s safe out of habit.

Your body is exhausted. You are so thoroughly tired that you think you could collapse at any moment, but when you sit down on the bed in your fresh clothes, you find yourself restless. This place is new to you and you’re unsure if the safe feeling is your mind playing desperate tricks on you or the real thing. The lamp by your bed is on, casting a yellow glow across the bedsheets and the dark wood furniture. Come to think of it, you didn’t get a good look at the house when you came in and the thought starts to bother you as you stare at the closed door to the hallway.

Someone could be behind it. They could be waiting for you to lay down, to sleep, before doing something awful. You almost feel guilty for thinking this way about them. They’ve fed you, given you a shower, given you fresh clothes. Luxuries you weren’t sure even existed anymore, yet you’re sitting here doubting them, wishing you had your pistol or knife.

The bedroom door creaks as you open it. You wince, nervous that you’ve disturbed the quiet peace of the house and that everything will come crashing down as quickly as it seemed to come together. The hallway is dark, save for some light coming from under two doors at the end of the hall. One of them turns out as you creep past it to the stairs, and you hear the distinct sound of box springs squeaking as someone crawls into bed. You let go of the breath you’d been holding, straightening up as you relax into the late-night environment.

The house looks old even from the inside. It gives the impression of having once been dirty and in near disrepair. There are dust stains and dull spots that no amount of scrubbing could get out. You can almost picture how this place may have looked when they found it and it’s entirely possible that it had been abandoned before the actual outbreak. Someone run out of their home for lack of money. What a trivial thing now.

The stairs are sturdy, probably held together so well by the foundation of the house, and they’re made of dark wood. They’re steep too, the kind that a baby or old person might trip over, and you hold the railing to calm the shaking of your legs as you slowly feel your way down. You can see the light on in the kitchen from around the corner, spreading out onto the floor of the old fashioned drawing room. Dishes clink in the kitchen, like someone is washing them, and you jump a little at the noise as you creep around the corner.

Kirishima is standing at the sink with his back to you, whispering something to someone beside him. The expanse of his back is broad, moving every time he goes to run his hand over the dish in front of him. Then, he turns to look at you and you see Mina pop her head around the corner.

“Oh,” Kiri says, “did you need something?”

You shake your head. “Not really, I just couldn’t sleep.”

Kiri nods sympathetically as if he knows the feeling. “Well, you look like you feel a little better at least.”

You pad over to where he’s doing the dishes and Mina offers you a soft smile and a knowing look. It all seems so normal. Doing the dishes, whispering quietly as they do. Something about it screams a kind of humanity you haven’t experienced in a long while, even with your last group.

“Are you sure we can’t get you something?” Mina says, furrowing her brows.

“Why are you all being so nice to me?” You ask. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“Is there some reason why we shouldn’t be nice to you?” Kiri says over his shoulder.

“No,” you shake your head. “I just think it’s reckless, that’s all. I could have been anyone.”

Kirishima and Mina exchange a look. They glance at each other, like they’re debating on saying something, and then Kiri turns and rests his palms on the back of the sink. He looks at Mina.

“We don’t usually decide to do this so quickly,” she admits. “We’re friendly, but nobody’s that friendly anymore.”

Kiri nods his agreement and you listen quietly, trying to determine if they plan to toss you back out into the woods in the morning.

“But, Katsuki doesn’t usually bring people in,” she continues.

“He’s a little more closed off than the rest of us,” Kirishima adds. “He’s a good guy, just takes a while to warm up, is all.”

“Mhm,” Mina says.

“What does that have to do with me?” you ask. “This is nice and all, but I’m sure you get why I’m wary.”

“He’s a good judge of character,” Kiri adds earnestly. “He doesn’t bring people in often, but when he does, he’s usually right.”

You nod, not quite understanding. Sure, you don’t plan to do anything terrible. In fact, you’re content to accept their kindness and stay, if they’d let you. Anything is better than being alone, but their blind trust in one man’s judgment of character makes you uneasy.

“He was alone for a really long time,” Mina adds. “A lot of us were. I got lucky meeting Kirishima early on, but Katsuki’s luck was a little less fortuitous.”

“So you all just… happened upon each other by chance?” You ask.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Mina says. “It was me and Kiri for a long time. Just the two of us. We’d found Izuku and Katsuki together a while later, but they didn’t seem to like each other all that much. We still haven’t really figured that out, especially because they’re so close now. Ochako and Sero ended up cornered together by accident. We found them just before we found this place, and Denki just sort of showed up here one day and promised to fix the generator in exchange for safety. That was months ago. We’ve been like this since.”

“So you’re all strays,” you say and Mina laughs a little and looks at Kiri.

“Sure,” she says. “We’re all strays. There were others too. Shoji. Jirou. She was Denki’s girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry,” you say with a frown. It feels pointless to apologize for the dead, if you get caught up in it, you’d be apologizing forever.

“Don’t be,” Kiri adds. “But best not to bring her up. It was pretty recent and Denki’s only just started to get over it.”

You swallow thick and nod a little.

“Anyway,” Mina says, “we can’t really explain it. We just trust him. We trust Katsuki. That’s all.”

“Hm,” you hum, understanding that to a degree.

You trusted the people in your group. If they believed in someone, you were willing to as well, so you suppose you can understand a little where they’re coming from.

“What are you talking about,” Katsuki rounds the corner, walking into the kitchen and putting his water bottle under the sink.

“Nothing really,” Mina says.

Katsuki furrows his eyebrows and then looks at you. He gives you a once over, taking in your new clothing before scoffing lightly.

“Don’t you look cozy,” he says. “You get settled?”

“When can I go get my stuff?” You ask.

“Someone’s eager,” he says through lightly gritted teeth. “Didn’t I tell ya we could go in the morning? Besides, what’s there really to miss in that lot of junk?”

“Katsuki!” Mina quietly chides.

“I have things I care about there,” you say. “Things I’m not ready to lose.”

Katsuki blinks at you for a second before swearing under his breath. “We’ll leave when you get up in the morning.”

“You don’t have to come with me,” you say, frowning a bit at his sour attitude.

“Like hell,” he scoffs. “What if the dead are waiting back there for you?”

“I made it this far on my own,” you respond.

Katsuki nods for a second. “I’m going. Come find me in the morning.”

He walks off and around the corner. You hear him go up the stairs, followed by the distinct click of a bedroom door shutting.

“Don’t pay too much attention to that,” Mina says. “It’s past his bedtime.”

“You’ll get used to him,” Kiri adds.

“Right,” you say, swallowing down your frustration in favor of trying to be appreciative of the help. You sway on your feet a little and then steady yourself. “I’m going to go to sleep. Thank you for the meal and the bed.”

Mina and Kiri nod, but you don’t stick around to hear a response. Fatigue creeps up on you. It ambushes your senses and you go from feeling dream-like to delusional in a matter of moments. You make your way up the stairs, your body feeling heavy as lead, and wobble your way into the bedroom they’re letting you stay in.

When your head hits the pillow, you’re out. The world around you fades to dark and just before you sleep, you swear that you can hear the sounds of cars passing on the highway. A busy night, Saturday maybe, and people go about their daily lives outside of the window the way that they always have. They live, never the wiser to just how quickly things fall apart and how little it takes for our humanity to leave us.

—

Mornings in this place are boisterous. The sun coming through the lone window in your room wakes you up and you can hear the calls of busy people getting to work outside. There are voices from the porch out front that your window looks over and though you can’t see them, you get the sense that they’re having a pleasant conversation.

As you rouse, you come to the realization of just how exhausted you’d really been. They probably saved your life by bringing you to this place, feeding you, and offering you a bed. In hindsight, it’s easy to see just how little you had left in you. You get the sense now that you’d been running on an empty tank for days, slowly coming to an inglorious, gruesome, sputtering stop.

Things seem a little clearer, like the sunlight is somehow less bleak than it had been the days previous and you feel a little bit like you have a new lease on life. There are no big emotions, no swells of hope or humanity just yet, and you dread the moment you are rested enough to let grief consume you. Right now, you can’t feel it, but there is a fear in you that as you get to know these people who live relatively beautifully in an ugly world, it will weigh you down so much that you’ll never be able to outrun it.

You wonder if they’ll let you stay. They very well may not, even with the way they were talking last night. Strangers are more dangerous than they’ve ever been and if they ask you whether or not you’ve killed someone, you refuse to lie to them. Sitting up on the bed, you mull over the very real possibility that you could be back out there on your own again in a matter of days and you don’t even have that many good acts under your belt to plead your case. You’re just a person and you’ve done what you needed to in order to survive. Now, you’re not sure if that’s enough.

You swallow thick, wandering over to the mirror on the dresser. It’s fogged, though less than the bathroom mirror, and you can make out your features a little better than you could last night. You feel a bit more sane, though you still don’t recognize the frightful and distrustful look in your eyes. Like a wounded animal. Inside your head, you acknowledge that you are completely different from the person you were two hundred and seventy seven days ago.

The voices grow louder as you climb down the stairs, more secure on your feet than you felt last night. You can hear them talking about the generator, as well as a name you don’t recognize.

“He should be back by now,” a woman says. “Shoto’s never gone longer than a day or two, max.”

“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” another woman says with a worried bite in her voice. Mina, maybe? “We’re only a few hours into the day. He probably got holed up somewhere.”

“Someone needs to go look for him,” a man says.

“And what? Risk getting yourself killed?” the first woman says. “No, it doesn’t make sense. We need you here.”

“You’d rather we leave him to die on his own?”

“No one’s fuckin’ dying.”

You recognize Katsuki’s voice.

“He’s perfectly capable of going on a gasoline run,” he continues. “He’s done it before.”

“I should have gone with him,” says the same woman.

“On that leg? You wouldn’t have made it halfway to town, let alone there and back,” his voice raises a little. “Don’t be stupid. He’ll be back.”

You clear your throat and step around the corner. The group turns to face you quickly at the sound, their eyes wide for a moment before relaxing. You can’t sneak up on anyone nowadays.

“Sorry,” you say, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Is everything okay?”

It’s not your business, but you ask anyway, wondering for yourself about the safety of Shoto.

“Fine,” Izuku says, shaking his head. You recognize him to be the one who'd vouched for going after their friend. Katsuki takes a step away from the broad man as he says this. “Nothing for you to worry about. Did you rest?”

Izuku smiles gently at you, his chest inflating a little at the question. The movement broadens his shoulders and you realize that he stands almost a head taller than Katsuki. You look briefly between the two of them before nodding.

“I did,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Nothing wrong with a little hospitality now and then,” he smiles and you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows at the distinct hesitance in his voice.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the woman standing across from Izuku says. “I’m Momo. Sorry I wasn’t there to meet you last night. I’ve been a little under the weather.”

You introduce yourself to her and glance down at her leg. Her ankle is swollen and wrapped in a bandage. Her sneaker laces are untied at the top to make room for the swelling and you can see that she’s guarding that side of her leg.

“Is it…?” you grimace, taking an instinctive step away from her. You almost feel bad for it, but sometimes good people make bad decisions when loved ones get bit.

“No,” she says quickly, “no, it isn’t. Caught an edge in an old chain link fence on the property a couple days back.”

Momo smiles slightly at you as if to reassure you. She’s really beautiful, with thick dark hair pulled back into a somewhat messy ponytail. Her eyes are bright, like she’s engaged in lively conversation, and you find yourself feeling a little sad for her. She’ll need medicine soon, if they can get it. Infections set in easily these days and you get the sense that even she knows that she may not have long without it. Maybe that’s something else their friend Shoto set out to find.

“I assume you’ll be wanting to go get your supplies?” Katsuki says, cutting the conversation short. Maybe he could sense the sour turn of thoughts.

“Ready when you are,” you respond with a nod.

Katsuki glances at Izuku, who gives him a slightly disapproving look.

“Someone get them something to eat,” Katsuki says. “...I’ll get my shit ready.”

“Fig jam…” Mina mumbles as she motions for you to follow her to the kitchen.

You oblige her, not exactly jumping to turn down a meal. She walks you into the kitchen and opens up a cabinet, where she pulls out a jar filled with a dark and seed filled paste. It’s a jam, sealed in a jar that looks older than what’s inside of it. The seal breaks open with a pleasant pop.

“This stuff is so good,” she says to you over her shoulder, pulling out a package of crackers that have likely gone stale. “You won’t believe it.”

She spreads the jam on a few crackers and sets it in front of you on a plate, pushing it across the counter towards you.

“It’s fig jam,” she says with a smile. “Homemade.”

You look down at the plate, your mouth watering at the prospect of something sweet like this. It’s been so long since you've had fresh jam. It could be as long as 10 years. You don’t think you’ve had it since you were a kid, when jam came easily and you preferred the processed brands at the supermarket to the ones your mom used to make sometimes.

You raise the cracker to your mouth and stuff it in with little grace. The sweetness spreads across your tongue as soon as you bite into the stale cracker. It fizzes and pops almost, the sugar melting across your tongue as the seeds crack softly between your teeth. The smile that hits your face is completely involuntary and though you know that nine months ago, this jam wouldn’t have been much, today it is something extraordinary.

Mina nods a kind of girlish agreement, like the way people used to when they had their friend try something at their favorite restaurant.

“We got here in the fall. I want to say late October or early November?” she offers. “We were starving and there wasn’t enough food to feed all of us. By that time there were like… nine of us.”

You listen as you eat your crackers.

“This place was in such an awful state,” she laughs. “I mean, really terrible. But, it was big and there was a fig tree in the back. A little thing, probably only a few years old and it had fruit on it. We ate so many of them that if the world were normal, we’d have sworn off of them forever. When we realized that the house actually had some old food in it,” she interrupts herself “-nothing good, canned stuff mostly- we decided to jar up the rest of the figs so that they didn’t rot.”

She smiles at you like it’s a pleasant memory, but you can only think about how hungry they must have been. Your stomach growls as you eat.

“I know it doesn’t sound like much,” she says, “but for some reason it’s a really nice memory. Honestly, we’re lucky we didn’t die.”

Mina laughs a little.

“I mean,” she continues, “we didn’t even clear the area before we started pulling at the figs and throwing them into our mouths.”

You tilt your head at her and furrow your eyebrows with a small smile.

“You’re really forthcoming with information.”

“You just seem a little hesitant, is all,” she answers.

“Can you blame me?”

Mina shrugs her shoulders but doesn’t really offer an answer. You assume it’s because she can’t, because Mina has the same doubts everyone carries with them in this world. All of the what ifs people would think about before they slept have become more prevalent than anyone would have ever liked.

“The jam is good,” you say, trying to be friendly in the same way she is. “Even if it is months old.”

“Things keep well in jars,” Mina defends softly, smiling a little as she gets another out of you.

This place feels like a little slice of paradise. A blessing from whoever lived here before and kept a garden stocked with vegetables. From someone who lived in an old house with stables and well-water, who kept canned food past its expiration date. It feels almost too good to be true, like these people live in a bubble bound to pop.

“You ready?” Katsuki thuds into the kitchen with an empty backpack slung over his shoulder.

You turn, startled by his sudden appearance and nod as you quickly finish chewing the last cracker. Katsuki furrows his eyebrows as he watches the way you scarf it down.

When you stand from the table, Katsuki turns on his heel to make for the front door and you follow with a light step. Mina says something about staying safe, but you don’t respond, glancing once over your shoulder at the girl.

It’s strange, the world has made you wishy-washy and uncommitted. You never used to be like that, never so distrusting as to second guess someone’s kindness the moment your back is turned to them, and you’re certainly not the type to be friendly one moment and closed off the next. Now though, you find that doubt creeps in easily through cracks and any foundation that didn’t exist before, seems to be swallowed before you can finish building it.

Katsuki leads you back across the small clearing you’d come through the night before. It looks different in the day, almost romantic, and it lacks any of the ominous feeling it had the previous evening. He steps over mounds in the dirt from moles and gophers that have made lawns their new home and you try to mimic his steps, sinking occasionally into a particularly soft patch of dirt. Every now and then, Katsuki glances behind him to check that you’re still there and you offer him a forced smile that he never returns.

You catch up to him when you hit the trees, sticking close at his side like something will come and take you away if you’re not. It’s unintentional, but you don’t have a weapon on you. Your knife is back at your makeshift camp, along with the unloaded pistol and your trusty spatula.

“How do you know where we’re going?” You ask in a whisper.

Katsuki tosses a look at you over his shoulder. “I’m good with directions.”

His tone is clipped, like he’s pissed about something, and your expression sours at it. Sure, you get it but it irritates you to some small degree. You hadn’t asked him to come along. In fact, you’d have been fine getting back here to collect your stuff on your own. You’d have asked for a knife and set out without a second thought, if only because being alone in the woods with some guy was less preferable than doing it by yourself. Of course, some guy also probably saved your life, but you’re not quite ready to relinquish your trust completely.

“Thanks for coming,” you decide. A peace offering.

Katsuki doesn’t answer and you furrow your brows a little bit. You wonder if he’s always been like this or if the end of the world brought on the loss of his manners.

Then, he stops, taking you by the arm and pulling you down beside a bush. You gasp and he puts his hand over your mouth to silence you. There’s the urge to bite him, to catch the fleshy bit connecting his thumb and pointer finger between your teeth and bite down till he bleeds, but you stop when you catch what he’s looking at.

Two of the living dead crouch by a tree, clicking their tongues as they eat something just out of sight. You furrow your eyebrows, eyes widening at the horror of it. For some reason, seeing them always brings about a round of momentary shock. You’ve yet to let go of the hounding thought that they used to be people and sometimes have to reorient yourself to the world you’re in now.

You catch Katsuki’s eye behind you, his calloused hand still clasped over your mouth, and nod your head. It’s a silent communication that you’ve seen what he has and he removes his palm from your face to grab a knife tucked into his belt, passing it to you quickly.

The two infected haven’t noticed the two of you yet, but they will soon, if only by the smell of your flesh which has yet to rot. You hear Katsuki let out a breath, as if to calm his heart, and do the same. There’s time to look at them like this and you’re struck by how human you can pretend they are in your head. Well, you suppose they were human once, now they’re a disease using someone’s skin as a mask.

Infected people aren’t quick, that’s one thing to be grateful for. Back when the outbreak first started, the CDC had released information on what to look out for in those who might have contracted the virus. The first was obviously a bite wound from another infected person, but you can tell from other symptoms. Early symptoms are average. Body aches, fever, lethargy, and delirium. All things you might see with a nasty flu. Then, infection of the wound site, twitching, foggy eyes—like low-grade cataracts—that develop within a matter of hours or days, severe disorientation, aversion to food, insomnia, with the final symptom being a coma that no one ever wakes up as themselves from.

These are the symptoms that people are conscious for. The ones they feel. The sickness that people tried to nurse others back from. There is no coming back though, not alive at the very least. The virus attacks the nerves throughout the brain and body, that’s what causes the twitching and convulsions. It’s what ultimately kills us, and it's what they think causes the bodies to come back.

Most infected will crack when they move. It’s the cartilage breaking down as the bones grind together and crack as they’re weakened from the marrow out. They twitch like rabid animals, unable to keep masterful control of their bodies because they are run like puppets from the brain stem. You don’t know if they think. If somehow the people they used to be are still in there, unable to stop themselves from consuming and spreading the virus to others. All you really know is that they twitch and click, functions of the brain that still remain. Tiny impulses sent through the synapses. You imagine it to be like the way you twitch when you sleep, an arm here or a leg there, the way someone might call out with their voice to a room with no one in it.

Maybe the infected think they’re dreaming. A nightmare that they never wake up from, like those of us who have to put them down. You could see it as a mercy from that perspective. You have an easier time rationalizing putting a knife in someone’s skull if you convince yourself that they’re silently begging for it.

Katsuki shifts his weight and looks at you. He mouths the words no guns and you nod, briefly wondering where the fuck he thinks you could have gotten a gun from.

Then, you kick off and run with Katsuki towards the infected. They don’t really have time to begin moving towards you both. You’re faster than them, but you hear the crack of their legs as they stand from their crouched positions, pulled in at the idea of their next meal.

Katsuki takes the farther one, sinking the knife into the soft spot of its temple with relative ease. You switch yourself off and take the one closest only a few moments later, sending your blade through the top of its skull. That happens to you when you have to do this. You turn yourself off for a bit, just so that you don’t have to remember the way it feels to hit the soft part of someone’s brain. You didn’t used to do that, only starting when you realized that there’s no going through this world anymore without it.

Katsuki wipes the blood on his pants. It’s brown, no longer oxygenated, and the area around you begins to reek. You notice, but for some reason the smell of decomposition doesn’t register in your brain and you continue on behind him.

There are a few beats of silence, save for twigs breaking under your feet, before Katsuki speaks up.

“You okay?” It’s barely above a whisper and you wouldn’t have caught it were you not listening for the distinctive crack of human bones.

“Yeah,” you say, continuing forward.

The campsite rounds into view and in this light, with your full night’s sleep under your belt, you can see just how pitiful it looks. A tent that you’d hastily put up before nightfall, the remains of your stamped out fire, the folding chair which has since been knocked over, and your weapons on the floor covered by a few leaves disturbed by the wind.

You snatch them up and move to grab your backpack out of the tent. The inside is shitty too and your torn sleeping bag hadn’t even been rolled out yet. You pick up the bag, returning to the folding chair as Katsuki begins to take down the tent. The polyester and nylon blend zips together as he makes quick work of folding it. Then, he kicks some dry brush over the remains of the fire, like he’s covering your tracks.

“The next person that comes through here might not be alone,” he says plainly. “And they may have more bullets than you did.”

“Right,” you respond. Your voice sounds a little far off and you settle your backpack on your shoulder in one quick motion.

“Got everything?”

You nod, following him as he heads out in the direction you both came from. The two of you pass the bodies of the infected you’d killed. The smell has permeated the air, lingering like how it does in cities, only less pungent. Their fogged eyes stare blankly at nothing, expressions plain and unreadable. You pass and try not to think much about it.

Katsuki is a few feet ahead of you and he doesn’t glance back to make sure you’re following. You could leave now and never get attached to these people. You could head off in another direction and never have to think twice about it. No more worrying about who you could lose, about who’s next to become one of the sick masses. Just you by yourself. Then, when you finally kick the can, someone else can put you down the way you did to those strangers.

Is there really a point to it anymore? To community or living in general. No one is as they once were. Does that make it fantasy to live in their beautiful bubble? Could you even find it in yourself to pretend again, to make nice and play house in that place? They saved your life, sure. They fed you, clothed you, bathed you, but for what point? Tomorrow, you could end up back in the woods, lighting fires with twigs you found in the brush, paranoid that someone would find you or the fire would spread.

You watch Katsuki’s back as he moves, shoulders shifting with each step. His shirt is stained, white turned eggshell from the wear and tear of time. It seems so off to you that he looks relatively clean, like he lives well.

Fear strikes you as you realize that your rambling thoughts have merit. Anything you fear now has become real and loss is so tangible to you that you can squeeze it in your hand. They could turn you out. Tomorrow night you could begin the starve and step all over again, moving from place to place, talking to yourself, filling your hours with paranoid thoughts like these that plague you when you’re alone. Is that worse than loss? If you’re alone long enough, you’d probably forget what you’re missing. Losing anyone else could make the wound fresh. For now, the hunger wins out.

Katsuki jogs ahead of you to get to the house. Momo is on the porch waving him in and he hurries up the steps and bursts through the front door. As you approach, you can hear voices, some of which are relieved, others hurried. When you enter the room, you find a man standing there whom you’ve never seen before, Shoto maybe.

“A plus one,” the man looks up, tilting his head at you in an odd way.

“Katsuki’s,” Kiri says with a low smirk.

Shoto’s eyes widen as he peers at his friend, clutching what looks like an injured shoulder. Katsuki just huffs his irritation.

“Well, that’s rare,” Shoto says.

“What’s rare?” Katsuki spits. “They were in the woods with a fire. What was I supposed to do? Let ‘em die?”

“Maybe,” Shoto says, a light smile creeping onto his features. Then, he turns to you. “What’s your name?”

You give it to him and he nods his head, tilting it at you again.

“How long are you staying?”

You’re not sure how to answer that question. In fact, no one is, and it feels like more of a test than it does a genuine inquiry. Kiri and Mina exchange a glance and Katsuki tosses a somewhat dirty look towards Shoto. Ochako gives Shoto a knowing glance and Sero and Denki shift uncomfortably on their feet. Then, Momo clears her throat, spurring Izuku to say something.

“Shoto,” he says. “You’re probably hungry, you should eat something and lay down. Ochako? Could you take a look at his shoulder?”

“Sure,” the girl says softly, giving a closed mouth smile to Shoto as she takes him by the arm.

She glances at you as she passes, almost like she’s too embarrassed to look at you fully in the face. You suppose this is what happens when people are forced to think about whether or not they will potentially leave someone else to die. It’s like the trolley cart question and though in this case there is always the possibility of a better outcome, it’s not likely in this world.

“Just until I’m rested,” you add with a small tilt of your head. “A few days.”

Shoto looks at you over his shoulder and gives you a small smile. It’s funny, you can see kindness there. His actions aren’t kind, but you can feel that he has kindness in him, though his rudeness stems from something different than Katsuki’s, you think. Like he’s strange in some way.

“I’ll start on dinner,” Sero says. “Kiri, give me a hand.”

The group disperses and you head upstairs without speaking to anyone else. A few days to rest and then cut the first people you’ve spoken to in weeks loose. What sort of idiot gives up something like this to avoid a little awkwardness? Not that you necessarily had your mind made up. You wonder briefly if you’ve just sealed your own tomb.

—

After dinner, you go upstairs to sleep after eating as much as they would offer you. Your stomach has ceased its constant growling and the shakiness that comes with hunger has receded almost entirely into the background. The bed is soft, with a slight dent in it from whoever slept in here before. The thought unsettles you that they’re probably dead now, but you try to push it from your mind as you steel yourself for what comes within the next few days.

You had volunteered yourself to leave. To what? Save yourself the embarrassment of pleading? Did you even want to plead? Why are you regretting not asking to stay? These people don’t know you, what trust can you have built with them in only a few days? Your skin crawls at the expanse of possibilities in front of you after so many weeks without any.

You think that if you let yourself walk away, you’ll probably die. You’re out of bullets and don’t know where to find any food except by luck. You can try to catch prey, but prey hides whenever infected are around, and they’re everywhere nowadays. It’s spring, water wouldn’t be a problem, but running water has its clear comforts. Then, there’s the possibility of loss. You’d come to care for these people if you stayed, you know it.

You furrow your eyebrows and look at the ceiling. There’s really no choice to be made. You’ll let them make it for you, even if you don’t know them. It’s their house and you won’t walk in uninvited or try to take it. You’re not about to become a monster just because the world is full of them now.

The darkness grows and your eyes drift to the dim light wandering in under the crack of the door. Hushed voices whisper in the living room, you can hear them. It’s a heated discussion, lively, but deliberately quiet. It’s been hours since everyone went to bed, yet you get the impression that many people are chiming in. You’re too nosey to leave it be.

You open the bedroom door silently, turning the cool knob with a wince as it clicks out of place. When you peer into the hallway, every upstairs bedroom door is open with the room empty. The light is coming from down stairs and around the corner, and you can see shadows move as you inch closer to the source.

You pause at the top of the stairs, knowing that they creak, and crouch by the bannister to listen. You’re out of sight. The only way they’d know you’re listening is if you made a sound, but you won’t. You’re good at being quiet.

“We don’t even know them,” someone says in a rushed whisper. “We don’t know what they’ve done before.”

“Everyone’s done things they’re not proud of now, Shoto,” a woman adds. It’s Mina. She’s spoken enough to you that you recognize her voice.

“I agree with Shoto,” says another woman, her voice higher pitched. She sounds guilty and her voice is tight as she speaks “We have no clue who they are. They could be dangerous.”

“You mean like me, Ochako?” A man adds. “I could have been dangerous.”

The group grows quiet for a moment.

“No,” Momo says. You recognize the cadence of her voice. “Shoto might be right, Denki. It’s been nearly six months since you got here and the world has changed a lot. We don’t- we can’t know for sure.”

“Can we really know anything for sure?” Another man adds, Kiri.

“What about you guys?” Shoto says, presumably to the rest of the group.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m hesitant, but I don’t know either.”

“Jesus,” another man with a baritone voice, harsher than the rest. That’s Katsuki, the first voice you’d heard of the group. “You guys make me a little sick.”

“That’s not fair,” Ochako says.

“No,” he interrupts. “It is fair. You guys want to… what? Send them back out there to die?”

“It’s not like that,” Shoto says.

“It is like that,” he says, raising his voice and then lowering it back to a whisper. “You didn’t see them when they got here, Shoto. They- they didn’t look… shit. The rest of you, you saw them. You really want to send them back out there to fuckin’ waste away? I don’t know about you all, but I won’t do that to a person.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Katsuki’s right,” Izuku says with a bit of conviction, like he’s finally made up his mind. “Sending someone out there alone is a death sentence. How does doing that make us any better than the people we’re trying to protect ourselves from?”

“What if there are more of them?” Ochako says quietly. “What if they’re not alone?”

“Trust me,” Katsuki says, “They were alone.”

“But what if they’re not?” She insists at a whisper, a bit of shame creeping into her voice. “What if people come for us?”

“See?” Shoto says gently. “There are so many what-ifs.”

“That works the other way too,” Mina adds.

You don’t listen to hear the rest of their conversation. They’re going to run themselves in circles debating about you. They’ll go around and around and land on whichever argument ends with the most votes. They’ll convince each other of one thing and it will happen totally out of your control.

The bedroom door shuts with a low click that makes you wince again. You think about the people who went to bat for you and the people who didn’t. You don’t blame those who opposed. You’d have probably reacted similarly if your old group were still alive and you understand very clearly why they do it. One person’s stupid reaction can be catastrophic and they don’t know enough about you to be certain that you’re not one of those stupid people. It’s how the world went to shit in the first place and though nine months ago you’d have surely condemned someone for making the same decision, you know that fear has warped humanity beyond comprehension. You didn’t get it until you lived it.

Still, Katsuki’s humanity feels intact somehow, more so than yours at least. His response is something you probably never would have said under the same conditions and you can’t help but feel some sort of fondness bloom in you for him. Call it connection, gratefulness for his willingness to stick his neck out for you, a trauma response. You still feel it. Mina and Kiri had said that Katsuki was a good judge of character and that’s why they were willing to back him. You wonder briefly if maybe Katsuki sees something in you that you don’t recognize in yourself anymore, or maybe something you don’t expect other people to recognize. What is it that he wants so badly to protect?

Someone stomps down the hallway, heavy boots against the old creaky floors. You hear the steps recede down the hallway, maybe a door or two down, before it shuts quickly. The sound makes you wince and you listen as the house grows quiet and then hums quietly with the sound of others coming upstairs a few moments later. Someone pads to the end of the hall, pushing the door open.

You hear a woman’s voice, so muffled that you can’t make out what she’s saying. Then, you hear the sound of a man’s affirmation before the bedroom door shuts and the visitor moves back down the hall to a separate bedroom. Information passing through the house.

Someone is moving around in a room below you and you figure that there are probably bedrooms downstairs as well. From the outside, you’d never guess that the place could house ten people. Inside though, the bedrooms are small. That’s probably why so many can fit. You’d guess that the place used to have multiple generations living in it, or maybe even rented out rooms to people for a few months. It sort of has a boarding house feel to it, like many people have come and gone even before people stopped staying in one place.

That’s a good thing to call it, the boarding house. It certainly has that sort of feel to it, many of its spaces undeniably communal.

You turn over in the bed, facing the bedroom door. The lights have gone out completely now and the house is quiet save for the occasional creak or thud from someone preparing to sleep. It’s been a long while since the sounds of living have been so prevalent near you. You’re eased by the sounds of the house settling, a familiar reminder of what living used to be. Your group had been on the road long before you lost them and the comforts of an interior are almost overwhelmingly nostalgic. You’re better rested to notice it now and shutting your eyes, you savor the feeling.

—

“Need some help?” You say.

Denki turns around, grease smeared across his nose where he likely wiped it with his dirty hands. He’s holding a wrench in a glove so tattered that it hardly counts as a glove anymore. He looks startled, amber eyes widening before he uses his forearm to brush stray hairs out of his face. The rest of it is pulled up into a messy ponytail, revealing the moist back of his neck.

“Oh, sure,” he says, a bit surprised. “Do you know how generators work?”

He crouches back over the machine and you step up behind him.

The machine is rusted near the bottom and between the exposed winding pipes. Its paint has chipped away, leaving the weather-damaged metal open for you to see. On the side, a fan-like piece spins slowly in circles and the machine whirs and sputters softly as it… generates power, probably.

“Not quite, but an extra pair of hands is always helpful,” you say softly, passing him a tool he’d been reaching for. “Did it break?”

“No,” Denki says, “but it’s probably on its last legs. The thing’s almost as old as we are, probably older, so it’s good to tune it up a bunch.”

You hum your agreement, tilting your head as you stand and watch him work.

You’re not necessarily comfortable with Denki, but he feels like a safe person for some reason. Maybe it’s because he’s got a sort of ditzy, non-threatening vibe to him. You can almost distinctly picture him tripping over his own feet and something about that makes you feel considerably safer than someone who wouldn’t. That and he was the first person you’ve come across this morning who you don’t think distrusts you too badly.

“Are you dodging something?” Denki smirks up at you from his crouch.

“Who on earth would I be dodging?” you snort a bit defensively.

“Shoto,” he says with a light smile. “He put you in a tight spot the other day.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, glancing over your shoulder. “It wasn’t anything he didn’t have a right to ask.”

“Right, but it sure was rude, huh?”

Denki laughs to himself a little and you’re surprised by how easygoing he is. You subconsciously begin to categorize him with Mina and Kiri. The dichotomy of this group baffles you a bit, but you can certainly see all nine of them as a collective. Tightly knit and well acquainted with the habits of others.

“Oh!” He exclaims, “I have something you can do for me.”

You tilt your head.

“There’s a bucket over there,” he says, pointing absentmindedly to a shitty plastic bucket against the side of the house. “We use the water from the creek as coolant. It’s not factory grade, but it does the trick. You wanna go fill it up and bring it back for when I’m done tuning this thing up?”

You furrow your eyebrows, not sure where the creek he’s talking about is.

“The creek is just over there,” he points behind the house to the edge of the treeline. “I know you can’t see it from here, but if you walk in a straight line, you’ll hit it. Katsuki should be down there too, so you can use him as a landmark.”

When you don’t immediately answer, Denki whines a little.

“I mean,” he says, “I’d go myself, but-”

“I’ll do it,” you laugh a little and Denki seems surprised that you do.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I’d like to pull some weight at least while I’m here. Plus, I offered.”

Denki mumbles his pleasure and you walk to the bucket without another word and set off in the direction Denki pointed. You’re much more willing to go out to the treeline now that you have a knife back at your side.

The walk to the trees is longer than it looks, like how sometimes the horizon looks like something you could reach out and climb up onto. The walk stretches with each step you take and you become a little more understanding of why Denki didn’t want to do it himself. But the walk is actually pleasant, the warmth of mid May collecting evenly on your skin as the humidity grows more intense with the sun.

You wonder what Katsuki would be doing by the creek. Maybe he’s fishing, or crouched over himself sharpening an arsenal of knives that you think he might keep in a roll attached to his belt sometimes. You’re not sure why, but Katsuki sort of has that expression to him. He’s handsome, but the scowl projects something hostile that makes him seem unapproachable.

As you cross through the middle of the clearing, you could almost imagine that this is a normal day. Humidity collects on your skin, making you sweat a little as you dodge gopher holes and soft spots of dirt. It almost feels like summer camp, if it weren’t for the looming idea that you’re contributing to something you may not be a part of. Denki’s attitude though, has you hoping for a more favorable outcome, if you want to call it that.

You’re only a few steps into the line of trees when the earth dips into a sand-lined ravine. The trees leave room for the sun to beat down on warmed rocks, making the area seem brighter with their subtle reflection of the light. The noise of the creek drowns out the sound of your footsteps and you shuffle toward where the earth flattens just before the water starts. A little ways to your right, you can see Katsuki sitting on a rock in the sun, his hands dipped into a large bucket. You narrow your eyes as he pulls what looks like a cloth out of the water, rubbing the fabric together before dipping it in the cool water of the creek.

As you approach, you realize what it is that he’s doing. It’s laundry. On the other side of him, you can see a bin of what look like dirty clothes and water-soaked clean ones. Talk about misjudged character.

“Katsuki,” you say as you approach him, the bucket still empty in your hand.

He squints up at you, shifting his face so that it's in your shadow.

“You’re still here,” he says plainly, returning to his task.

“Clearly,” you respond, watching as he runs his fingers over the next piece of clothing in the bucket.

“Why are you down here? Did Denki pawn the generator water onto you?” He says, like he’s somewhat frustrated. “He does that shit to anyone he can.”

You shrug your shoulders and continue to stare at him.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” He huffs out.

“You’re doing laundry.”

“Yeah?” he furrows his eyebrows and looks at you. “So?”

“Nothing,” you say. “I just didn’t expect that.”

“Yeah well,” he stops for a moment like he’s struggling to find the words. “It needed to be done. Figured I might as well.”

“How progressive of you,” you joke with a straight face.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes and sighs, not justifying your comment with a response. You find yourself smiling a little bit.

“If you’re going to linger, sit down and do it,” he says. “You’re creeping me out.”

You oblige him and sit down on a rock next to him, far enough that you’re not touching, but near enough to hear him if you speak in a low voice. For some reason, you feel a sort of kinship with Katsuki. You’d thought longer than you’d like to admit about his willingness to vouch for you and find that you want to live up to his expectation of your goodness, even if it’s not what you believe yourself to be anymore. Maybe it’s because you’ve slept well the past few nights and feel more like yourself, but there’s a certain casualness to conversing with him that you enjoy. He’s not looking at what you could be, but rather what you’re showing him that you are. His lack of doubt in that is something you find relatively attractive.

You watch his arms out of the corner of your eye in between gazing at the treeline and the sky. Your field of vision catches on them, his sleeves cut short to expose his biceps, a bit muddied near the elbows where the mud has begun to stick.

Katsuki doesn’t seem all that bothered by your presence, but now and then you’ll catch the sideways glance he gives you, almost like he’s trying to figure out exactly why you’re lingering.

“How long have you been with them?” You ask, more as a way to fill the silence.

Katsuki’s hands pause as he thinks about answering, then, they continue their steady pace.

“A decent amount of time,” he says. “I met Izuku first, probably in November just before Mina and Kiri. The rest came later.”

You furrow your eyebrows.

“No offense,” you start, “but you don’t really seem like the group type.”

“And you don’t seem like the type who’d be alone,” he retorts, like your statement was stupid.

You press your lips into a tight line, not really knowing how to respond.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head a little.

“Were you?”

“What? Was I sorry?” He furrows his eyebrows at you.

“No,” you shake your head. “Were you alone? Before Izuku.”

He goes silent. You’ll take that as a yes, but you regret asking a little. It had just slipped out. If someone were to ask you something like that, you’d probably react the same way. That’s just as well, you don’t really need to know him like that anyway.

You wonder briefly if anyone does. He seems closed off, but Mina and Kiri spoke about him a few days prior like they knew him well. Well enough at least to allude to a history you’ll likely never be privy to. Then there’s Momo, who whispers little things to him that he answers in kind. Curiosity gets the better of you, if only to tease.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you ask and Katsuki’s response is to rest his elbows on his knees and let out a dry laugh.

He turns his head and looks at you from the side. “And what the fuck are you asking me that for?”

“Just curious,” you say. “Is it Momo?”

“Momo?” He makes a sour face at you. “Yeah, right.”

“She’s pretty,” you say.

“Sure is,” he responds dryly. “If you’re into the mom type.”

“What? You’re not into moms?” You grin a little and Katsuki furrows his eyebrows at you.

“So you do have a personality,” he scoffs a little.

There’s a pause. You haven’t felt this in a while. The feeling of bonding with someone new, compatibility on the human level that feels nearly instant.

“I’m kinda serious though,” you say, tilting your head down to catch his eye. “Do you?”

You’re leaning a little closer to him now.

“You seen any nice restaurants to take a person out to these days?” he questions, clearly a little frustrated with you in the way someone gets when they’re a bit amused.

“You don’t have to take someone out to a restaurant to fuck them, you know?” You laugh a little.

Katsuki’s lips part and he swallows like his mouth has gone dry.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, looking away from you. “I’m a romantic. Sue me.”

He’s just full of surprises, isn’t he? You find that you’re captivated by this feeling, this humanity, that exists in him. It’s something alive between you both, something left behind from the old world, and you crave it the same way you crave food.

Katsuki continues scrubbing the clothes, rubbing the fabric together and then dunking it in the bucket before plunging it into the freshwater creek. You’re not sure why you do it, but the next time he looks at you, you kiss him.

It’s not as if you like him, but it’s something to feel. Some remnant of the butterflies you used to feel on dates and the kiss makes you feel like you could be close to human again. You pull away almost as soon as you put his lips to yours and you can tell that the expression on your face is one of surprise.

Katsuki blinks for a second, looking at you with his brows knitted together. The expression doesn’t leave him as he places a wet hand on the side of your face to kiss you again. It’s an anxious kiss, confused and slow but—like someone riding a bike for the first time in years—it quickly becomes something familiar. Muscle memory that you both let yourselves sink into.

You can feel his expression as he kisses you, something between confusion and desire, like his own actions are perplexing. You feel the same way, hesitant, but reaching in the dark for the promise of some sort of normalcy. You want to feel like a person again. You haven’t felt it in so long and you push yourself against him as the ache swells in you.

The two of you continue like this for a moment, Katsuki’s fingers pressing lightly into the skin of your neck. You moan softly as his tongue slips into your mouth, taking a sharp inhale at the sensation of skin on skin. The sound of the creek drowns out the clicking of your mouths, but you can feel the way he hums into your mouth. They’re little sounds, involuntary ones driven by the nervous, desirous feelings inside of you both.

Then, Katsuki pulls away, swallowing thick as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. You appreciate the way they look. They’re swollen, anxious to continue and keep forgetting where you really are. He drops his hand from your face with a sigh and almost seems like he comes back to himself. You do the same, moving back into an upright position.

“Denki will want that water soon,” he clears his throat and motions to the empty bucket by your feet.

“Oh,” you say, laughing a little. “Right.”

You stand, dusting off the back of your pants and dunking the bucket into the water. It sloshes, the liquid hitting the back of the plastic with a satisfying elastic sound. You begin to walk away without another word, heading down the way you came to climb up the gentler part of the slope.

“Hey,” Katsuki calls softly. “You should stay. We talked it over last night. You can if you want to.”

The last part, he says facing the wash, his hands moving as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You don’t respond, knowing that the obvious answer is already yes.

Dread settles in your stomach. It’s an icky, swirling feeling that threatens to make you double over. You climb up the bank, the water in the bucket sloshing as you move through the trees and enter the clearing. The feeling doesn’t dissipate, growing as you leave the cover of the trees. You probably wouldn’t have kissed him if he’d asked you that earlier.

The boarding house comes into view and you can see Denki sitting beside the generator, conversing with who appears to be Shoto. They turn and Denki waves you down, Shoto turning away and starting around for the front of the house.

Denki jogs to meet you, taking the bucket from your hand. You flex your fingers as the weight is removed, wincing a little at how stiff they feel.

“Jeez, what took you so long?” Denki laughs and with your new information, you understand his willingness to be friendly with you a little better.

“I asked Katsuki for his life story,” you respond dryly, following him back to the generator.

Denki looks over his shoulder and laughs at you. “Did he tell you?”

You pause for a moment, watching as Denki unscrews something and pours the water in.

“Nope,” you say. “Not a thing.”

Click Here to go to the second chapter and find the rest of the series on ao3. The remainder will not be posted on tumlbr, but please feel free to reblog!

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader smut #mha smut #bakugou fanfiction #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #apocalypse au #tw.violence #tw.blood #tw.loss of identity #tw.derealization #tw.depersonalization #tw.exhaustion #cal.writing #char.bakugou

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bonesandchalamet · 1 year ago

Text

one room, one us - k.connor

masterlist

requested: y- “I almost immediately want to put forward the “only one hotel room left and it’s only got one bed” trope for a Kit Connor request 🫢 friends to lovers of course 🫡”

pairing: kit connor x reader — please message me if I used any pronouns of she/her this is supposed to be gender neutral!

warnings: one room trope + mentions of making out (purely innocent kissing)

a/n: loved this request hope I did it justice xx

“I could’ve sworn it had two beds.” he stammers over his words, a light nervous chuckle falls off his lips. as you turn to face him, you see he’s as red as a lobster, embarrassed for his mistake on the booking error, “I swear. y/n, im sorry.”

“kit,” you warn him giving a pointed look that he knows too well. he shouldn’t be apologizing considering you’re long time friends, but he is. sharing a bed was like crossing a line in his book, and he wasn’t quite sure your friendship was at that level of mattress sharing and blanket tugging.

“don’t apologize, I’m sure I can find another room—“

“you can’t. the place is sold out, and I’d offer my bed, but I promised tobbie he could share with me.” joe peaks his head in from the conjoining room, tobbie’s head appears atop of his with a simple frown for your sorrows, but truth be told, you couldn’t be too mad about sharing a bed with kit. he’s a dear friend for Christ sakes not a stranger with a filthy disease.

“honestly, it’s okay. we can make due right? just build a wall of pillows! it’ll be all good.” you offer your best smile to three boys who nod in agreement with your words. it’ll all be fine. except will it? you’ve never passed sharing a blanket or a bag of chips on the sofa, this could really change things— or maybe you’re just classically overthinking that this could ruin or change the course of your friendship.

—

“so I like to sleep on that side.” kit nudges his head to the right. the side that’s closest to the clock and the charging outlets, it’s also currently the place you’re snuggled under the sheets in.

“well I got here first.” you poke at your tongue, but gladly move along per his request and allow your phone to stay on the nightstand leaving you two with nothing but a conversation.

“even joe knows I like this side.”

“well excuse me for missing this course in friendship, but you’ve never told me you’ve had a preference to sides.” you pull the comforter up close to your chin and settle in against the mattress once again, finding comfort after a long day.

travel and tourism of a new place had taken it out on you, kit, joe and tobbie so much so that your evening plans of late dinner and drinks had turned into laying in bed to order room service. exhaustion was just only an understatement of what you felt.

“you tired?” he whispers, the words hang in the air almost he didn’t say them. it takes you a whole minute to register he’s waiting for a response, and by the time you open one eye, he’s found himself cuddled up with one of the pillows that’s being used as a barrier.

“hey,” you flip over onto your side, his thick light blond eyelashes flicker up, his beautiful eyes staring into yours. you can feel your heart stop, your breath goes right in your throat as you try to remember the words you were going to say.

“do you think you can turn off the lights?” he mutters mimicking your position as well, comforter pulled up to under his chin with pleading puppy dog eyes, “I can’t reach it.”

you let out a breathy chuckle watching his eyes close again, “it’s on your preferred side.” you say poking his side earning a grimace from him.

he juts out his lower lip, opening his eyes again, he gives you his best sad puppy dog look that’s so convincing you reach over his body and flip off the light, “there you go your highness.”

“hey!” he gasps, sitting upright. you can’t see his eyes, but you’re sure they are about a centimeter away from popping out of their sockets. you can only make out so much of him, but what you do notice is he’s completely shirtless. an image your brain clearly must’ve ignored in the first place, but now can’t seem to erase it.

“I’m nothing but high maintenance.”

an innocent unconscious laughter escapes your lips as you can recall the times when kit might of been a bit more on the needier side of things, but you cover your lips with an invisible zipper making his playful anger grow.

“no! tell me this instant!” he gently presses a slight shove against your arms and discards one of the pillows used as a barrier. he moves closer to you resting his head against your shoulder, “if you don’t tell me I’ll just fall asleep right here.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” the words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them, saliva fills your throat as you become to realize what you’ve just put in the air for him to settle with. maybe it was stupid, maybe it was wrong, but your feelings for kit were nothing but pure and right.

you could always feel his attraction towards you, and tonight, with only one bed and one hotel room left, it felt like someone was pulling you two together. someone or something was trying to push you two off the edge and into something more.

“what if I did this,” he sits up, index finger gently grazes your chin as he pulls your face towards him. time feels slow in this moment, his face inching closer your heart begging to jump out of your throat, its not until his lips are on yours when time seems to finally catch up.

his lips were like heaven. soft enough to melt you into his arms, and warm enough to send a heat wave through your body as you slide your tongue into his mouth.

he pulls away, a small gasp exiting his lips catching his breath, “so you don’t mind that?” he asks, a growing concern reaches his face that you can’t see, but your lips on his sends him the right message.

“look who’s high maintenance now,” he says in between kisses, a chuckle escapes his lips as you grab a fist full of his hair and pull his lips back onto yours.

“I’m only high maintenance with and for you, connor. it took you too long to kiss me.”

he throws his head back laughing as he collapses against the mattress, “just kiss me again, y/n.”

#kit connor x reader #kit connor imagine #kit connor #kit connor x y/n #kit connor x oc #kit connor fic #kit connor fanfic #heartstopper #heartstopper x reader #heartstopper fanfic #heartstopper x y/n #heartstopper fic #heartstopper imagine #nick nelson

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ahhnini · 2 months ago

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oh im obsessed w frat rafe tarot reader i need more

omg tysm!! <3 this was sent a while ago, but I appreciate the kind words still!! here’s more about tarot!reader!reader (still don’t know what to call her😔) this was also supposed to be just headcanons but I got carried away. hope you enjoy!! <3

the world - frat!rafe cameron x tarot card!reader! reader

warnings - cw slight verbal harassment from frat boys, suggestive at the end

texts between rafe and reader / the star

ೃ༄ her dorm room is definitely filled with her little trinkets! from crystals, calico critters, to pieces of lace, she’s got it! she’s definitely the type of person to just pull out anything from her bag if anyone needs it.

ೃ༄ don’t forget her collection of her favorite tarot decks on her bookshelf! they’re her favorite because she loves the art, but also because some have been gifted to her from her friends from home! (they miss her dearly)

ೃ༄ adding onto that, she prefers pulling her daily card from one of these decks versus digitally, as it tends to resonate more (she only looks digitally if she doesn’t want to get out of bed)

ೃ༄ her nails are always painted. she figured if she was going to be doing readings for people, she couldn’t let them look at her bare nails. however, no acrylics, she’s tried them before, but unfortunately it became difficult to pull cards out with them :(

ೃ༄ despite what people think, she’s very intelligent! she’s a business major at her school, and she’s (almost) the top of her class.

ೃ༄ her outfits alwaysss give, and she always wears her signature red platform loafers. just one class for her? she’s putting them on. running errands? strutting in them.

ೃ༄ her niche is baking, she hasn’t baked for anyone at school, except rafe! he said to start up a bake sale at their college, but she said that she only bakes for her friends. that made rafe feel fuzzy inside.

ೃ༄ however, during her third year of college, things got rough :( the school had only let freshmen and sophomores live in the dorms, and reader hadn’t been able to make any friends except rafe. rent was dangerously high around town, so she spent most of her nights in her own shop, curled up on one of her beanbags.

ೃ༄ when rafe saw you, sleeping an inch of the floor through one of the windows of the building, he immediately rushed to you, entering the security code for the door and waking you up. it startled you, of course, you had thought someone was breaking in.

ೃ༄ once rafe reassured you, he ran to the cafe across the street for some bagels and coffee, and sat you up on your beanbag. from there forward, you’d told him everything, and he listened. you’d always be there to give him advice, so he felt a little guilty about not knowing your current situation.

ೃ༄ little did you know this conversation would take a turn of events you’d never expect.

ೃ༄ he smiles brightly as you both stand in front of his frat house, a small “ta-da” coming from his mouth. the hand around your suitcase clutched tighter as you try and stop yourself from nervously chuckling. he grabs your free hand, dragging you up the steps of the manor. he knocks on the front door, and you look at the ground, the clacking of your loafers becoming echoed.

ೃ༄ you put up a small smile when the frat president opens the door, he nods and introduces himself as jay before welcoming you and rafe in.

ೃ༄ it had been cleaner than you’d expected, minus some empty water bottles strewn across the floor. you didn’t know why, but from all the rumors you’ve heard, you were expecting something a bit more…grotesque.

ೃ༄ you make your way up the grand stairs, rafe carrying your suitcase, mumbling about how you have more trinkets in there than clothes. he shows you his room, and it was the complete opposite of your previous dorm. it was minimalist, barely any decor, and filled with monochrome black and white. bleh. the only pop of color that he had were the crystals he’d bought from you, which shine on his windowsill. “how do you live like this?” you ask, dropping to your knees and opening up your suitcase. he shrugs, “just like it like this,” you dramatically shiver your shoulders and he scoffs.

ೃ༄ your nerves didn’t calm down at all when rafe showed you around the house, and it had to be the time when most of the boys got back from their classes. although jay stated that rafe’s friend was going to be staying, he failed to mention said friend was a lady. especially the one whos reputation was said to be very antisocial around campus.

ೃ༄ some ogled, it was a given, some already gave you their numbers, adding a note to “call them if you get stuck in the washing machine” (ew) (and you swore you could’ve seen them with their girlfriends around town). nevertheless, rafe shut them all down, wrapping a protective arm around you.

ೃ༄ once dinner came around, you were amazed at the en suite buffet the house offered, sitting across rafe with your hefty plate of food.

ೃ༄ once night rolled around, you quickly realized that you and rafe had to sleep in the same bed, as there were no spares. you’d been fine with it, and rafe said he was fine with it, but you doubted that claim when he kept moving around throughout the night.

ೃ༄ eventually, he’d found a comfortable spot, spooning you, and you tried your best to not be bothered by his hardness pressing up against you as you drifted to sleep.

taglist - @nemesyaaa @julie123456897 @mfdoomdickrider @grxnde-dwt @littlelamy @rafeeekam @xcinnamonmalfoyx

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kombuuuu · 2 years ago

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would u write angst with 1610 miles? Like they’re best friends and both like each other but miles is distant bc of spider-man stuff. Maybe reader tries to distract herself by going on a date but it goes bad and miles comforts her and reveals he’s spider-man and confesses to her that he likes her:,)

“Im Spiderman!”

Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

“What the hell.”

“Mi vida, listen.”

“What the actual hell.”

Of course sugar, this silly little angst WILL BE SOOOOO DELICIOUS

warnings: hurt/comfort, attempted sexual assault (not by Miles)

Miles had been distant.

He kept brushing you off, planning times to meet up and missing them. Calling you in no hurry then all of a sudden there’s a family emergency and he hangs up.

Now you would understand if it was just a few times, hell, even more than a few times you’d just convince yourself you were paranoid. But every time for the past two months?

You’d right about had enough.

If Miles doesn’t want to commit to your.. not relationship..

Then you won’t either.

—

Miles had been busy. Life had gotten ahead of him when he’d least expected it. After a year of Spider-ing (?), he’d finally settled into a nice pattern of, wake up, do things, call you, see you, call you again to make sure you got home safe, protect the innocent civilians of Brooklyn, also do illegal graffiti, then go home. And maybe text you. All of that had been snatched from under him like a shaggy rug. Tripping over his own feet and struggling to right himself.

He had some fued going on with a villain he’d heavily underestimated. Their likeness not only in fighting, but also preying. Miles had started home from his patrols more than once to find a chip attached to his shoe. Beeping only audible from his advanced hearing.

It had stumped him into a nervous stupor. Constantly worried that someone bad is going to waltz through his front door.

He was worried they would catch wind of you, and although that had always lingered at the back of his mind. Losing you had been put on the forefront the moment you came to school injured one time, saying some guy just wanted drug money, and was pretty easy to scare away. Doesn’t mean he didn’t nick you in the cheek real good. Blade running quick against your cheek, and lord were you grateful it was light.

Miles had pulled you out of class, ignoring the behest of his professor and dragged you to his secret stash of first aid supplies, locked away in an empty and unused science room.

“So why’s it here?” He glanced up at you, confused.

“Huh? What’s here?”

His puzzled expression pulled at your heartstrings, giving you some sweet butterflies. “The first aid kit, dummy.”

“Oh.. Oh! Yeah-“ he threw his hand behind his neck, blazer sleeve crawling up his arm. “Uh- For ‘mergencies..” He quickly went back to cleaning your cut, finding your gaze too strong on him, but unable to avoid it.

“This is an emergency?”

He grabbed your chin between his forefinger and thumb, tilting it slightly up and to the side, then continuing with his right hand at dabbing your cheek with antiseptic.

“It will be if you keep moving.”

You prayed he didn’t notice how hot your cheeks felt.

Once Miles finished, he caressed your face softly for a moment, relishing in the contact before he quickly packed his stuff away and rushed out of the room in an excuse of “late for class”. You stayed sitting at the table for a further two minutes before getting up gently, grabbing your bag, and leaving the ‘abandoned’ classroom.

—

You were sitting on the curb of your apartment. Wishing you could just go back inside and sleep. Miles hadn’t spoken to you for a week. You didn’t want to seem like a clingy girlfriend, but god you felt like one. You were waiting patiently on for the bud to arrive, far too early in the morning. Sat in the spot Miles would usually meet you at, you sighed down at your feet. Had you done something wrong? Your relationship had been blossoming the past few months into something you’re sure was reciprocated. There was no way that the endless supply of intimate moments between the two of you was a coincidence.

The way your whole face would light up at the mere sight of him had to be clear as day.

You swore up at the sky, watching your breath fog up in the winter air, the slow screech of your bus coming around a corner brung you back down to earth. Day dreams about a boy who you probably don’t even cross the mind of cut short.

You stood up and groaned, stretching your arms and leaned against the bus pole. Except it didn’t stop. It didn’t even slow down, and when you’d realised the driver wasn’t pulling into the parking bay, you were already too late.

“Oh- C’mon, really!” You kicked your foot against the scuffed ground, pouting at no one and complaining to no one too.

“Miss the bus?”

A man who looked to be around 17 approached you. You stepped back from him, him getting the hint and not getting any closer.

“Oh- Uh.. Didn’t mean to seem like a creep or anything,” he laughed lightly, dimples showing at the action. “I just, also missed the bus.” He gestured down to himself, disheveled clothes and messy hair.

Disheveled clothes didn’t look as good on him as it did Miles, but you smiled and hugged a laugh anyways.

This could be your chance, get out of your rut. Back into the dating scene and away from Miles.

Yet it seems you couldn’t go two minutes without him on your mind.

“Hence why I look like this.”

His eyes flickered back to yours, taking in tour appearance as well.

“Guess we’ll have to walk,”

He laughed, “Guess so.”

“Not like our clothes can get much more creased.”

That brought a genuine chuckle out of the man, eyes squinting at the sarcastic tone you held.

“Well, I know a couple ways.”

He winked at you and you huffed, following behind him as you began the treck to your school.

—

The man you met had been named Arthur. He was understanding of your humour, and pretty well in his own. He seemed king of untrustworthy, though. You just didn’t understand why, something about him made your stomach churn. Maybe it was butterflies?

You had been talking for a week before he asked you out.

The fact surprising you. Never in your life had you met someone and them be wanting to date you within the same month, let alone fortnight.

“Yeah- yeah, okay.”

Miles’ face crossed your mind in a fleeting thought, sending goosebumps along your skin and a buzz through your bloodstream.

You’d just gotten asked out by someone attractive, said yes, and weren’t told it was some joke. And yet, the mere thought of Miles brought a quake to your knees? Good god.

Cross your fingers this date gets him off your mind and his image peeled from the backs of your eyelids.

“Cool, see you Friday?” Arthur stood from his chair, walking backwards towards the door.

“Yeah, Eight good?”

“Absolutely.”

—

Arthur had met you at ten, not eight. So you had spent the better of two hours thinking you got stood up by *someone you didn’t even know.

The moment he’d stepped in front of you, the nice outfit you were wearing felt overdressed and unfitting, he was wearing the same day-to-day clothes. It felt almost embarrassing.

“You clean up nice, babe.”

The name had you near gagging.

“Oh! Uh Thanks!” You grimaced as he winked.

The restaurant you’d arrived at was fairly busy, a quaint place with hung string lights and vines crawling along the ceiling. It led out into a cute garden, where it looked to be their own food growing.

At least he knows how to pick a place.

—

Fifteen minutes into the date, you had just gotten your food. And Arthur wouldn’t, for the life of him, talk.

It was so unnatural, so absolutely awkward you had just picked at your nails until your food arrived.

He had chatted with the waiter more than you.

“So uhm.. Arthur!”

He grunted an acknowledgment and glacéd you at you before returning to his food.

“What do you do study?”

“Anthropology.”

“Cool, I’ve always liked stuff like that.”

“Uhuh.”

You were going to shoot yourself if this man gives you anymore one word answers.

After a few more busted attempts, you had given up on trying. Just focusing on finishing your food faster so you could get the hell out of here.

A man you didn’t know came over to greet Arthur, said man responding enthusiastically. Peeking up and talking with “David” about who-knows-what.

“And who’s this lovely lady?”

“Oh hello, I’m—“

“—She’s my girlfriend David, so don’t try. Maybe after a while i’ll convince her to let me share ‘er with you.”

Girlfriend? Share?? What the fuck.

David laughed whilst he eyed you, his body leaning scarily close to you. You chuckled politely, what the hell.

“Well, let’s hope she agrees, huh?” David’s sly voice sent a shiver us disgust down your spine, seeping into your bones like marrow.

“She will.” Arthur assured him. You felt sick, violated. You need to leave, you need to get to Miles.

—

Another ten minutes passed before you’d both finally left the restaurant, the air getting stuffy with so many people around, and no one to see your fear.

Arthur had insisted walking you home. Which you vehemently refuse, you don’t want him knowing where you live.

Arthur had gone quiet after that, a look of almost anger on his face.

You had stayed quiet too, not wanting to poke the bear. And after a second, he was pulling you towards him and leading you to his car.

You panicked, struggling against his grip on your forearm. “Get in the fucking car, [Name].” He’d almost growled the words, “You fucking wanted this.”

“Let go of me!”

“You accepted in the first place, now you’re not going to give me what you owe?”

“I don’t owe you anything, let go!” You cried out, his grip was painful now and he was trying to shove your body into his car by force.

You were tearing up, your breath catching in panic, you were getting weaker and he was still shoving.

Suddenly, all the weight had been thrown off of you. Your wrist now free, and the presence of Arthur gone out of thin air.

“Your parents ever teach you not to lay a hand on a woman?”

You spun around to be greeted with sight of Spiderman wrapping Arthur in webs.

He docked him in the jaw as he tried to talk back. Arthur groaning heavily.

“Oh, guess not.”

“Fuck you, man. The girl wanted it.”

“Didn’t look that way to me, homeboy.”

Arthur glared up at him then turned to you, “You wanted it. Didn’t you?” It was phrased more as a threat than a statement.

“I—“

“Whoopsie.”

A web shot out and covered Arthur’s mouth, his eyes widening in panic as he tried to scream through it.

“Slip of the finger.”

He picked Arthur up and threw him to a wall, shooting a web at him as he went to stick him to it. The impact on his head swiftly knocking him unconscious, probably concussed.

You stood in shock, not really able to process the sight in front of you when Spiderman turned back, suddenly a lot less collected and a lot more worried.

He moved quickly over to you, raising on hand to caress your injured arm and one to your cheeks, the eyes of his mask downturning in fear.

“Hey-. Hey, hey look at me.”

You did, the tears in your eyes finally falling as the situation truly dawned on you. Your lip trembled. “Oh, [Name], you’re okay, i’ve got you.”

“Spidey—“ You shivered a little in his hold. His arm snaking down from yours to holding you close to him. The other continued to rub circles into your tear-stained cheeks. “—Come here, Chiquita.”

You hadn’t even noticed the names, your name, falling from his lips. You had only registered the immediate feeling of comfort around him. Unlike the feeling of fear, primality, around Arthur. Spidey had felt more like safety, like someone you could call a lifelong friend.

He grabbed you by your waist, talking you through it the whole time.

“I’m gonna touch your waist now, that okay?” “Mhmm..” “Okay, wrap your legs around me when I pick you up, yeah?”

Humming your affirmation, you wrapped your legs around his waist while he carried the whole weight of you in one hand, spread out on the low of your back. The touch sending the first pleasant tingle of your whole night through the tips of his gloved fingers.

“Let me take you home, querida.”

Miles’s eyes squinted in the pitiful sight of you, this was his doing. If he had been there for you, this never would have happened. His paranoia for something bigger had outweighed his realistic worries. If he’s not in your life, who’s going to protect you?

The names of sweet kept tumbling out of him, making up for the weeks he’d been missing. God, even now, holding you to his chest while he swung you home. Your eyes closed and buried into his neck, ignoring the world around the both of you and finding safety in him. Even now, he’s felt better than he had in the last months.

His feet landed softly on your fire escape, the soft thud of the metal a welcomed thought. Or, maybe it was being home again, either one.

Spiderman’s right hand slid under your bedroom window, opening it slow enough as to not wake your parents.

“We’re home, [Name].”

He climbed through the indie with you in tow, leaving it open slightly as you began to undress. He turned around quickly while you put on a large shirt and sleep shorts. Trying graciously to avoid watching you through the reflection of the window.

Once you were finished, he turned around and went to grab the makeup wipes from your dresser. You giving him a quizzical look he ignored.

You sat down on the bed with your legs crossed and he followed, your knees brushing one another.

“Close your eyes.”

You did, letting him softly wipe away any makeup you had put on for the night. You sighed in content, and absurdity. What was the likely hood of your date going so horribly wrong, then being saved and comforted by Brooklyns best vigilante. Then having that very same vigilante sit in your bed and wipe the tear streaked makeup from your cheeks.

“There you go.”

You opened your eyes again, seeing his hooded face so close to yours it made your heart beat.

“Thank you.”

He leaned back, suddenly seeming nervous.

“Hey, I—,“ He stopped and breathed in deep, “,—I need to tell you something.” He sounded conflicted, scared.

Why would a crime-fighting spider be scared of you?

“Yeah, of course. Anything.”

He sucked in another breath, quicker this time. And reached up to the bottom of his mask so fast you almost missed it. He pulled it off quickly, panicky. Leaving you to stare at the soft, plush lips and Hazel eyes that could only ever replicate the fall of an autumn leaf. Or the cinnamon dusted on the baking you would do with your mother.

Miles Morales stared back at you.

“I’m spiderman!” He laughed nervously. Picking at the fabric of his hood.

He looked back up at you and sighed, a smile playing on his lips at your dumbfounded expression.

“What the hell.”

“Mi vida, listen.”

“What the actual hell.”

He dropped his mask and gathered your hands in his. Holding them against one another.

“[Name].”

“You’re Spiderman.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

You looked up at his, he was closed again. Glancing at your lips every now and again. “Miles..” You pouted at him, almost crying his name. His chest aches for you. A thick guilt rendered his voice useless, a longing for you mixing into it.

“Is this why-“ You broke eye contact. “—Is this why you’ve been ignoring me?” You whispered it, like you didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

His fingers twitched against yours, squeezing your palm and rubbing his thumbpad over the juncture between your thumb and forefinger.

“Oh, cielo.” He let out a shaky breath. Saying the term in a quaking sigh.

He watched you watch him, your glassy eyes telling him all the hurt you’ve been through.

“Baby I didn’t mean—“ He shook his head, “I didn’t mean to ignore you. I was worried that some bad people would find out I—“ He stuttered, focusing on your intwined hands once again. “I cared for you, and they would use that, use you against me.”

“I never wanted you hurt, I just wanted you safe.”

You let another set of tears fall, the relief soothing the ache of stress in your shoulders, you were still mad at him, sure. And not only for ignoring you. But for keeping such a big secret to himself. But god, you were so happy he was back.

“It wasn’t because of you, cielo. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me.”

“I’m dangerous, [Name].”

He looked back up to you in earnest, desperation and fear clouding his eyes foggy.

“You’re worth the risk.”

“God,” his breathing was heavy, deep. “,You’re making this real hard for me, baby.”

“Good.”

“Jesus christ.”

He surged forwards, using your joined hands as leverage as he pulled you closer into him.

He stopped just short of your lips, breath escaping you at the sight of him, looking as gorgeous as ever. Even with his hair in a mess and smelling like baby powder. “Please let me kiss you.” The man was near begging, desperation of a different kind now.

“Okay.”

He closed the distance, letting your eyes fall shut at the feeling. You never had felt more perfectly at peace than you had right now.

His hands let go of yours, moving up your body and landing on your hips. He shifted his weight onto his knees, leaning over you as you lowered back. You broke apart, panting heavy and laboured, “I’m still mad at you.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” He peppered you with short kissed. You’re back hitting the bed and him crowding over you, trailing kisses from your lips, to cheeks, to just below your jawline. You giggled lightly, his kisses tickling.

“‘M gonna hold you to that.”

He grinned up at you, slotting himself neatly between your legs. His right hand propping himself up beside you head, and left finding any bit of you he could hold.

“I don’t doubt it.”

He kissed you again.

—

okay maybe i lied this is also kind of long

BUT AWE 🫶🫶🫶

#miles morales x reader #miles x reader #miles morales x you #spiderverse x reader #miles morales #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman #across the spiderverse

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