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glorious-spoon · 10 months
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cloudblaze · 2 years
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Where does the idea of StarClan cats appearing as the age they were happiest come from? I don't remember, and the wiki doesn't provide an accurate source.
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catty-words · 2 years
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the bitty spark ‘verse sequel officially broke 20k words 🎉
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soaps-mohawk · 2 months
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood Masterlist
Summary: Task Force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what Price has been saying since its formation. Two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it.
It works for a while, until the Omega Initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. Fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so Price thinks. 
As each member of the team gets closer to you, things begin to come to light, not only about you but about the decision to force you into their lives.
Maybe, just maybe, Price was wrong and the 141 does need an omega after all. 
Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz, Ghost x Soap
Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, NSFW content, explicit smut, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), knotting, biting, claiming, mating cycles, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, age differences, military inaccuracies, canon typical violence, blood, weapons, language, no use of Y/N, brief torture, hurt/comfort, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.
Chapters containing smut are marked with a *
Updates are posted on the weekends, either Saturday or Sunday PST
This fic can also be found on my Ao3 -> HERE
NAVIGATION PAGE Lore and world building masterlist CRCB Barracks Sims 4 Build Masterlist Support me on Patreon for more bonus content
Divider by: samspenandsword
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Part 1 - The Omega
Chapter 1 - The Introduction Chapter 2 - Adjustments Chapter 3 - Speak Their Language Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful Chapter 5 - What I Want *
Part 2 - The Bond
Chapter 6 - One Step Closer * Chapter 7 - Sweet Strawberry Chapter 8 - The Thing About Ghost Chapter 9 - Save Me Chapter 10 - Treat Me Gently*
Part 3 - The First Heat
Chapter 11 - It's Coming Chapter 12 - Fire In My Veins* Chapter 13 - Piece Me Back Together* Chapter 14 - The Aftermath*
Part 4 - The New Normal
Coming soon!!
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akanemnon · 9 months
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TWIN RUNES MASTERPOST
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 -15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 21-1 - 21-2 - 21-3 - 22 - 23 -24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30 - 31 - 32 - 33 - 34 - 35 - 36 - 36-1 - 37 - 38 - 39 - 40 - 41 - 42 - 43 - 44 - 45 - 46 - 47 - 48 - 49 - 50 - 51 - 52
To be continued...
TWIN RUNES MINI COMICS
Glasses - Fallen down - First steps - Press [C] - Frisk Dance - But nobody came - Whatstheirface - An acquired taste - Eye opening
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TWIN RUNES - FAQ
What exactly is this AU about? Twin Runes is essentially a comedic crossover AU between the universes of Deltarune and Undertale. No fancy nicnacs. Just the characters being their chaotic selves. But there might be some darkness lurking up ahead...
When is the next comic? The comic updates most Sundays at 6:30 PM Central European Time.
Why is this AU called Twin Runes? The name is more or less a play on the typical naming format of most AU's by featuring the "Runes" part. There are no literal Twin Runes. The whole name is more of a stand in for Undertale and Deltarune as parallel worlds. Hence the "Twin" part.
When does Twin Runes take place? This AU takes place between a hypothetical Chapter 3 and Chapter 4 of Deltarune. On the Undertale side of things, it takes place post neutral route just as Frisk was about to deliver Undyne's letter to Alphys.
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Is the player a thing in this AU? The player lost control over both human children as soon as Frisk entered the world of Deltarune.
When Chapter 3 and 4 are released, will it affect the story? Any chapters after Chapter 3 won't affect the story in the grand scheme of things. If possible, I might make a reference to Chapter 3, but all in all Twin Runes created a new timeline so to speak.
What's up with Kris' and Frisk's hair? The red bits of their hair is more or less a representation of their souls. That in turn is also why Chara doesn't have that feature. They are soulless. It's a stylistic choice.
What's that thing on Kris' chest? It's a scar they got from tearing out their soul.
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And why do they have weird lines all over their body? Both Kris and Frisk's anatomy resemble that of ball-jointed dolls. They appear just as markings across their bodies. Think of them as elaborate birthmarks. Kris and Frisk are still made of flesh and blood, but are in fact hypermobile. The reason as to why they do is still a little secret :) People here like to refer to these markings as "puppet limbs". You can get a better look at them and the scar in this artwork
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Why does Kris have braces? This is why:
Why is Dark World Frisk green? Frisk changes their main sweater colors with Kris when they enter the Dark World.
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Can other ghosts see Chara? (pre Darkner transformation) No, only Frisk and Kris are able to see Chara.
IS KRIS NOW FRISK'S COUNTERPART OR CHARA'S???? :)
So, was Chara in the locket all along? No, in that moment Chara possessed the locket to become a Darkner.
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Where are Jevil and Spamton? Are they in Castle Town? The Fun Gang have already fought these two in the previous chapters and added them into their inventory. Outside of that little dream sequence, neither will be making an appearance.
Is anyone from Undertale Yellow gonna make an apperance? Outside of a tiny cameo from Clover (that has no greater bearing on the story) no one from Undertale Yellow is going to make an appearance.
Is (insert character here) gonna go to the Dark World/underground? With the way the story is going to play out, only the main group will be heading to this new Dark World. The rest of the story will be taking place there.
Is the Group Project miniseries canon to Twin Runes? It was made before Twin Runes was conceived and before I had any idea I would make a series. It is it's own self-contained story. So it is NOT canon to Twin Runes, but You can read it here: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6
How did you come up with the idea of Twin Runes? Twin Runes is an offshoot of a separate script I wrote. It's a similar concept but turned on its head. The funny moments in that script made me just continue what now is the start of Twin Runes. I pretty much just wanted to see if I am actually capable of drawing a comic to begin with. So... in a way Twin Runes is my first attempt at a comic ever. If I ever finish Twin Runes, then I know I can tackle turning that mammoth project of a script into a comic too. In the grand scheme of things these two projects are sister series. They have A LOT in common and even share similar plot elements. When Twin Runes is over you will automatically also know certain mysteries of The Other Script.
What is The Other Script? As of this moment I call The Other Script: "Lost in the In-Between". At its core it's an inverse of Twin Runes. I.e. Kris falling into the underground and being aided by Frisk on their quest to return home. The story and jokes are a considerably more grounded than in Twin Runes and so are the characters. Though they do have their moments from time to time. The overall mood of that script is a lot darker in nature and it's a 200+ page passion project of mine.
Am I allowed to make fanart? ABSOLUTELY! You are very welcome to make fanart if you feel like it. Please let me know if you do by tagging me, so I can share it with everyone to see so that you get the appreciation you deserve :)
Can I use the funny faces you draw for memes or for private stuff with friends? That's what they're here for :)
Is there x ship in this comic? The focus of the story is not on shipping. If it's in the game it will very likely be mentioned or brought up, but that's about it.
What pronouns do you go with for the human children? I try to stick as close as possible to the games so I use THEY/THEM FOR ALL OF THEM WITHOUT ANY EXCEPTIONS.
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ABOUT ASKS
Asks will open for 24 hours after a new comic has been released. Your questions will then be answered over the course of the week.
Try not to submit multiple asks. If necessary, just keep everything in one post.
Keep in mind that I receive AL LOT of asks, so not every question can be answered...
Questions containing spoilers will not be answered on principle. Wouldn't be as fun if the surprise was ruined, right?
Before leaving an ask (mostly for everyone who's new), please make sure to read the FAQ section above. A lot of times your question might have been answered already :>
I love memes and dumb jokes as much as the next guy, but try not to spam
It probably goes without saying, but please stay civil. I want to give everyone the respect they deserve, and naturally like to be treated the same way.
Please be mindful about drawing requests. It is understandable if you're eager to see a certain character drawn in my style, but I do not like to be bombarded by requests. The more it happens, the less likely I am to do it. Be kind and ask nicely.
Don't use other people's posts that I reblogged to ask me questions! It has happened before and I do not wish to see this!
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REFERENCE SHEETS
The following are ref sheets of characters that don't have established Dark World forms yet (as of writing this comic). The list will be updated as soon as a new character enters the Dark World. Here you will also find references of characters that might appear as surprise cameos, or maybe even completely new faces...
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FULL ART
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thebigbiwolf · 6 months
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Spittle - Part 1/2
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Summary: The chocolate seems innocent enough - if you look past the Infernal writing on the wrapper, and with so few pleasures in the wilderness, you all but jump at the chance to sneak yourself a small treat.
Unbeknownst to you, the bar is infused with succubus spittle. Just one square is rumored to contain enough potency to send a mortal into the throes of ecstasy.
This is what happens when you eat half the bar.
Fic Tags: Sex Pollen (kinda), aphrodisiacs, succubus magic, a bit of dom!Astarion, unprotected piv, overstimulation, he talks you through it (iykyk), more tags will be added later.
Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Dubcon (if you squint), Language, No use of Y/N, magical influence
Read on AO3: Here
A/N: Remember the dead spider? I remember the dead spider. Anyways, the reception I've been getting on Starvin', Darlin' has me wanting to thank everyone with a one-shot. This got away from me so I went ahead and split it into two parts.
I've never written anything like this and it was significantly more difficult than a multi-chapter fic. I hope everything comes across the way its supposed to! And a huge thank you to my beta @imaginarydromedary for...you know... encouraging me to post this, despite everything.
From what you could tell, there wasn’t much to the apothecary. 
As you push open the dilapidated doors, your first thought is to search for supplies - anything that could help if things went south on your way to the goblin camp. 
Dried herbs hang from the rafters beneath a thin veil of cobwebs, filling your lungs with a pungent clash of scents. Empty bottles lined the shelves along the wall, caked in several months worth of dust. Large chunks of the building were missing where stone met splintered wood, some areas almost entirely overtaken by greenery.
You step over broken shards of pottery, scanning over the floor and countertops for something - anything that may be of use, but to your disappointment, it seems like the shop was entirely ransacked long before your arrival.
You sigh deeply, knowing you’ll likely never hear the end of this from your companions. It was your idea to search the village. You were the one who suggested taking out the goblin scouts, exerting everyones’ energy, and now you’re afraid you’ll have very little to show for it.
You catch a glint of gold, an object reflecting the sun's rays beneath a pile of rubble. You kneel down to brush away the surrounding debris, thankful for even the smallest promise of coin before your hands catch on… some sort of serrated edge?
You pull at it, and it easily comes loose. It's a thin, rectangular block, just barely larger than the length of your hand. You wipe away some of the dirt with your sleeve, revealing an intricately designed foil wrapping underneath.
As you speculate what this might be, you hear footsteps approaching from behind, light and familiar. You turn to face the elf with a smirk.
“You’re supposed to be the stealthy one.” You chide at him, playfully, “Or has my blood put a little skip in your step?”
Astarion scoffs. “I’ve been here the entire time, watching you fumble around in the dirt.” 
Crimson eyes study you, then the object you’re holding. He places his hands on his hips, head cocked to the side with a raised brow. “Is that what you’ve dragged us all the way here for?”
“First of all,” you waggle a finger at him, “You’re especially grumpy when you’re tired. I’ll have to make a note to prioritize your beauty rest. Second, I haven’t finished looking around, but check this out.”
You hand the bar to him as you stand. The cool skin of his fingers brush against your own, and you’re irritated with the way your heart skips at the brief contact. Why did the one man you found attractive in your camp have to be such a primadonna? And such a huge pain in the ass? 
Astarion’s eyes scan over the textured paper with suspicion, angling it towards the light to get a better look. The golden wrapping is stamped with an image of red lips On the back, letters twist and curve in a language you don't recognize, following a single circular pattern where they meet in the center. You’ve never seen anything like this, neither in your travels, nor within the city walls of Baldur’s Gate.
“Where did you find this?” 
You shrug, then point to the pile next to you. “It was buried right there.” 
He silently stares at the foil, mouth pursed, until your patience begins to wear thin.
“Well, can you read it or not?”
His nose scrunches. “Of course I can’t read it. It’s written in Infernal.”
That’s… odd. Why would an ordinary apothecary sell goods made by devils? Or, worse, for devils. Unless, of course, it was some sort of marketing trick, perhaps a play on the phrase ‘sinfully sweet’, or some other cringeworthy branding.
You take it back, turning it over in your hands before tearing at the corner of the wrapping. It's sectioned into dark, rich squares, and smells indisputably like chocolate.
“It looks like candy.”
“An excellent observation.” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now, can we go? We’ve spent more than enough time here already.”
You roll your eyes and stuff it into your bag, setting off for camp, vampire in tow.
During dinner, you decide not to tell the others about what you found, knowing Astarion’s likely already forgotten the event. You set down your empty plate, thanking Gale for tonight’s meal. He smiles at you and bids you goodnight as you excuse yourself to your tent. 
You pick up your rucksack, thinking fondly of the dessert that awaits you inside. Having lived at the beck and call of your companions for weeks on end, you can’t help but smile at the idea of selfishly indulging in a small treat like this.
You tear open the rest of the wrapping and snap off one of the squares, immediately popping one into your mouth. It melts - buttery in texture, with a smokey, slightly bitter flavor. You can’t remember the last time you’ve eaten something so rich. Maybe weeks of the same rations have made you easier to impress, but this felt especially notable.
As you break off a second piece, a strange tingling sensation begins to spread across your lips - a pleasant buzzing that starts at your neck and spreads down through your chest. 
Strange, but not entirely unwelcome. You’ve heard of such inebriating chocolates, ones laced with alcohol or species of flowers that numb one’s senses for a short while. All harmless, of course, and you don’t have watch tonight. You may as well enjoy yourself. If worst comes to worst, Shadowheart is just outside with an assortment of spells and potions. Always better to ask for forgiveness.
It only takes you minutes to finish half the bar. You set the rest next to your bedroll for later and turn to blow out your candles, enjoying the lingering physical effects of the chocolate. Your skin feels flushed and delightfully warm as you settle down for the night.
When sleep finally takes you, it's dreamless, at first. Your consciousness sways, floating in an empty abyss, until colors begin to bleed onto the blank canvas of your mind.
A trickle of red morphs into the shape of familiar eyes, piercing you with their intensity..
Droplets of white spatter over a dark background, diffusing, blending into whisps. They curl and twist before settling into soft, coiffed fibers. 
Hair , you recognize immediately, his hair . His eyes.
Astarion. 
His image fully takes form, as if it had been waiting for you to make the connection before entirely revealing itself. 
He reaches out and seizes you, grabbing painfully at your hips as you crash into his body, hands exploring you - tight, possessive, squeezing at every inch of exposed skin before settling on the curve of your ass. He digs into your flesh with the blunt edge of his nails.
His lips press hot, wet kisses to your throat, mouthing just below the ear, before dragging his tongue along your nape and sucking, hard . You whine at the pressure, eliciting a grin from the elf, so characteristically pleased with the pathetic little noise he’s managed to pull from you.
“You thought sleeping would allow you to escape this - to escape me , unscathed?” He growls against your skin, his voice almost unrecognizable - as if it’s layered beneath a lighter, somehow more arrogant, feminine one.
“No, no, no. Wake up, darling. You’re in for a very long night.”
You startle awake, gasping - loud, labored breaths struggling to make use of the unbearably thin air. The edges of your tent bleed in and out of focus, spinning at a nauseating pace as you attempt to recollect yourself.
You wipe at the sweat collecting on your brow, the muscles of your arm heavy and aching, and find that your skin is absolutely drenched. 
Hot. Why is everything so hot? 
It's as if you're being cooked alive beneath your blankets, strangled beneath the furs. You throw them off; normally soft to the touch, the fibers now only worsen the prickling beneath your skin.
Could this be some sort of illness? A fever? 
No, this doesn’t make sense. Everything feels off. 
Fleeting thoughts of Astarion cross your mind - quick flashes of a sinful smile that was not his own.
It didn’t quite match the one you’d silently come to admire, and now that you think of it, the hunger in his gaze was much too intense for the reserved elf. 
His hands, his mouth, the way he touched you -
Your abdomen cramps, bringing your thoughts to a screeching halt.
A stabbing, visceral pain; a knife plunging into your organs. It overwhelms you, forces your body to curl into itself. You hold your pelvis, grunting, and grasp at your sheets. Tears sting the corner of your eyes.
This is - well, you have no idea what this is. 
You can’t think past the pounding in your head, the throbbing in your midsection. You're compulsively twisting, writhing, begging the gods for some sort of reprieve, but it's then when you make the most mortifying discovery of the night.
You’re soaked .
N ot just your smallclothes, which may have been understandable given your strange dreams, but through your damned pants. Not even the sheets were spared. 
“What  in the hells…?” 
You run your fingers over yourself, only intending to confirm the horrifying reality of your situation - that this is not, in fact, some sick, perverted nightmare, but the lightest touch sets off every nerve. 
You wail at the sensation: one massive wave of bliss giving way to several small jolts of pain. 
Pleasure to the point of agony.
The shock of the sudden orgasm courses from your sex through every limb, clenching and releasing pitiful, warm slick. It leaks freely out of you into your already thoroughly ruined underwear. 
Your heart pounds. You stay like that for what feels like a lifetime, toes curled, limbs twitching, waiting for your body to settle. 
After a minute or so, your breathing evens, and the thick haze surrounding your thoughts begins to lift just slightly, along with the suffocating heat. 
But something within you knows this isn’t the end - knows this isn’t enough . A desperation lurks beneath the surface that you can’t quite name. It screams at you. You need more.
‘Aw…’ A familiar, feminine voice prods at your mind. You quickly recognize her, the woman from your dreams who wore Astarion’s image.  
‘All alone, are we? Empty and needing to be filled? Doesn’t that hurt?’
It does. It aches unlike anything you’ve ever known. The lingering buzz of your orgasm just barely quells the worsening cramps, and they’re beginning to rear their ugly head again not minutes later.
You choke out a sob. “Wh- why are you doing this? What do you want?”
Sharp, wicked laughter fills your head, echoing off the walls of your skull. ‘I’m not doing anything, dear. Just enjoying the show.’ She hisses, ‘I told you, it’s going to be a very long night.’
You must be hallucinating. This fever - whatever this is, is simply cauterizing your senses, or possibly interacting with the tadpole? But the tadpole doesn’t speak, not like this. Never so clearly. Not with words.
Think, please. There has to be a reason this -
“Is everything alright?” Shadowheart raps on the canvas of your tent. “I heard a yelp. Are you hurt?”
Shit.
‘Ooh, this one might do!’  You feel an unwelcome… eagerness flood you.
No. No. Absolutely not.
You try not to panic. 
Under no circumstances should she or anyone else come in here.
The best strategy may be to ignore her - pretend you’re still sleeping. It seems like a good plan, but before you have a chance to follow through with it, another sharp contraction hits. This one is somehow even worse than the ones before. 
You pull your sheets up to your mouth to stifle your whine, but the half elf’s ears are sharper than most. “I’m coming in.”
She opens the flap to your tent and gasps when she sees you there - skin flushed pink, doubled over and covered in sweat. 
“Gods, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” Her hand reaches out towards you. 
Without thinking, you swat it away with your own. Your skin tingles at the contact, and the essence of a smile crosses over the threshold into your mind. The intruder giggles with satisfaction.
“Don’t,” you plead, “Don’t touch me.”
She scans over you, taking in your humiliating state. Her face twists with concern. “I need to know if you’re feverish. Please. You look awful.” 
‘Well, I think you look delectable.’
You groan.
At this point, you know it’s no use fighting this thing on your own. You go back and forth on whether you want to tell her the whole truth, about the voice in your head and its influence on your body, but the idea mortifies you into silence. 
Regardless, a cleric is likely your best chance of fixing this literal mess, so you nod, close your eyes, and brace yourself.
Shadowheart’s palm meets your forehead. It’s somehow worse than you anticipated. Even the simple, chaste touch sends you reeling, as if her soft hands are caressing your entire body. Flashes of heat wash over you, burning your skin, threatening to pull you back under another wave of ecstasy. 
It’s too much. You try your hardest to suppress a moan, but the muffled sound manages to escape from between your tightened lips, pitiful and broken.
The disembodied voice squeals with delight.
She quickly retracts her hand, clearing her throat. “Apologies. I can confirm your temperature is… elevated, but the rest…” She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
You want to scream, cry - anything to release your frustration, but you keep your mouth shut, not wanting to risk making any more unsavory noises.
“I believe I can give you some relief by treating the fever, but I’ll have to consult the others on the rest. This doesn’t look like any ordinary sickness.”
Consult the others? No. Gods, no. Nobody can know about this. Is she mad?
You intend to protest, beg her not to share this with anyone, tell her whatever death awaits you on the other side of this would be preferable, but she’s speaking an incantation before you have the chance.
A bright, green aura envelopes you, cooling your skin and ever so slightly easing the cramps. With the pain dulled, it's as though you can finally think again. 
You want to laugh. This situation is so utterly ridiculous that you’d find it hilarious, were it anyone else, but with the modicum of relief comes exhaustion - eyelids heavy, vision blurring with weariness.
“Get some rest. We’ll figure this out.” 
Her reassuring words are the last thing you hear before you’re overcome by darkness.
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pseudowho · 4 months
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Pseudowho's JJK Masterlist
Scroll through to see...
Nanami Kento
Higuruma Hiromi
Suguru Geto
Choso Kamo
Aoi Todo
JJK multi-character fics
Nanami Kento Masterlist
Updated: 17th March 2024
REQUESTS CLOSED
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🔥 Smut 💔 Angst 💕 Romance
☕ Comfort/Fluff 🤡 Clowning
🐙 Monsterfucking. 📚 Education (*dirty laugh*)
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1st of December 🔥☕💕 -- No-Nut November is over-- but Nanami Kento won't let you get away with it that easily.
7:3 🤡 -- Nanami Kento never thought about his 7:3 pattern...a fourth wall breaking moment.
"Dad Reflexes" Ask and Drabble 🤡💕☕-- Nanami Kento can catch anything.
Daylight Robbery 💕☕🔥-- when Gojo asks Nanami to cuckold him and his fiancée, things don't go the way Gojo planned...
Debellatio 🔥💕-- a Nanami x Reader x Higuruma sex-pollen threesome.
Ditch the Party 🔥💕-- Nanami Kento hates parties. But the drinks? The drinks make him bold.
Domain Expansion theory-- Pseudowho's vision of Nanami Kento's domain expansion.
Edging Nanami Kento 🔥💕-- The reader drives Nanami Kento to the edge and back again.
Fire and Iron 💕☕🔥-- AU!Nanami Kento is the town blacksmith, and the reader is forced to stay the night after tending to his wounds.
Full 🔥☕💕-- Nanami Kento treats his pregnant wife like the goddess she is.
Glory Glory 🔥☕💕-- "Help, I'm stuck!" on a mission with Kento, and he takes full advantage of the compromising position.
Good Boy 🔥💕-- after a bad day, you know exactly what Kento needs to help him relax...
Good Girl 💕🤡 -- a drabble
Grandpapamin ☕💕-- Nanami Kento as a grandfather, Headcanons.
Grey 🔥💔💕-- The reader lives a vigilante life; so does Nanami Kento, a changed man after the events of Shibuya. When she is sent to hunt him down, Nanami Kento has a proposition for her.
Grey! Nanami Headcanons Part One ☕💕💔-- post-Shibuya Nanami Kento x Reader headcanons.
Grey! Nanami Headcanons Part Two ☕💕💔-- post-Shibuya Nanami Kento x Reader headcanons.
Grey! Nanami Christmas ⛄🎄 Headcanons ☕💕💔-- post-Shibuya Nanami Kento x Reader Headcanons.
Hanahaki 💕☕💔-- being in love with you is killing Nanami Kento.
Hide and Seek 🔥-- Game night gets spicy.
"How well can you drive?" 🔥 -- the reader takes matters into her own mouth so Kento can prove his driving skills.
Infiltration (MULTI-CHAPTER) 🔥☕💔💕
(COMPLETE!) --the reader and Nanami Kento must pretend to be married, infiltrating a Curse-user cult to take it down from the inside.
Chapter One: Introduction
Chapter Two: Pillow Talk
Chapter Three: Deadly Games
Chapter Four: The Rumbling Shrine
Chapter Five: Breaking Point
Chapter Six: Exposed
Chapter Seven: The Captive Goddess
Chapter Eight: Unchained
In From the Cold ☕🔥💕-- The reader wanders in the snow, lost and injured after a mission gone wrong; will Nanami Kento save her?
Kento Comes Home Drunk 🔥💕-- and the reader handles his advances like a total champ.
And, its sequel... Reader Comes Home Drunk 🔥 💕-- where Kento manages the reader's advances like an absolute champ.
Knismolagnia 🔥💕-- Kento has a somewhat...erotic response to being tickled.
Last Moments 💔☕-- Nanami Kento remembers a childhood holiday.
Nanami Kento, and the Curses of an Unusual Nature (MULTI-CHAPTER) -- Nanami Kento is deemed the only Sorcerer sensible enough to handle some frankly weird Curses
- Chapter 1: Gone Shopping 🤡 -- locals are going missing at a large shopping centre; Nanami Kento is sent to investigate.
Nanami Kento's Massive Squeezable Man Tiddies 🔥☕-- the reader being casually obsessed with Kento's chest...repost link HERE!
Operation Babymaker (a new series!) 💕💔🔥☕ -- Nanami Kento takes trying for a baby very seriously indeed.
A Trip to the Tailors-- the reader reveals she's been off the pill for months, and Kento cannot contain himself.
Benchpress-- the reader interrupts Kento's workout, and is manhandled into submission.
Ditch the Party...again-- tipsy Kento is back, and deadlier than ever.
Wet Dreams-- Kento gives the reader a free-pass for when he's asleep...and he returns the favour
Raising You ☕💔💕-- When the reader is de-aged by a Curse, Nanami is forced to raise her like a daughter.
Resolute ☕💔💕-- The reader helps Nanami to accept that he has a drinking problem.
Seasons of Grief 🔥💔💕☕ -- The reader supports Nanami Kento through the anniversary of Yuu Haibara's death, and afterwards, when Kento nearly loses the reader
Shirtsleeves 🔥 -- The reader steals Kento's last shirt, and receives her comeuppance.
Still Got It ☕💕-- The Nanami kids' parents are boring...right?
Stoic 💕🔥-- Kento is furious when Gojo assumes that his lack of PDA towards the reader shows a lack of desire.
The Accumulation of Little Despairs ☕💔💕 -- The reader struggles with low-mood; Nanami Kento comes to the rescue
The Chase 🔥💕-- The reader has insisted on No-Nut November; Nanami Kento gets his revenge by hunting her down and taking his reward.
Why I love Nanami Kento
Yet Another Sex Pollen Fic, PART ONE 🔥💕
And...PART TWO 🔥💕 -- the reader has a problem... and only Nanami Kento can help her scratch the itch.
Higuruma Hiromi Masterlist
Updated: 6th March 2024
REQUESTS CLOSED
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Calamus et Gladius (the pen and the sword) 🔥💕💔☕-- slow-burn, enemies to lovers Culling Game smut with Higuruma and a foreign reader
Daddy 🔥☕💕-- dating apps are a hazard for men like Higuruma Hiromi...
Debellatio 🔥💕-- a Higuruma x Reader x Nanami sex-pollen threesome
Fellatio 🔥-- the bathtub lawyer receives head in his office.
Fumus et Ignis 🔥💕-- sometimes, Hiromi smokes and ties you up while he makes you ride him.
Glory Glory 🔥☕-- 'Help, I'm Stuck!' with Hiromi, two bottles of wine and a compromising position with his gavel.
Hiromi and Nemo ☕-- tales of Higuruma Hiromi, and his little black cat.
Hiromi Higuruma Relationship Headcanons ☕🔥💕
In Flagrante Delicto 💔☕🔥💕-- Higuruma struggles to adapt to life as a sorcerer, refusing all of your offers to help...until he needs you.
"I've Committed a Crime" Ask and Drabble 🤡💕-- Higuruma is a ruthless tease
Jus in Bello: A Judicious Domain 💔🔥💕-- The reader throws Higuruma out of their home after they struggle to adapt to his new Cursed power...and the reader must then hunt him down in the Culling Game, to bring him home.
Men with Big Noses 🔥💕-- you reveal a kink for Higuruma's nose, and he shows you exactly what he can do with that.
Milk and Honey 💕🔥-- Hiromi is obsessed with your milk, and loves you while you sleep.
Office Besties ☕💕-- Hiromi and you are just friends...right?
Sanguis et Vinum 🔥💕-- period sex with Higuruma
Shower drabble ☕💕-- Higuruma comforts you after a bad day.
The Stairwell 🔥💕-- You've been teasing Higuruma all day at the office; he catches up to you, eventually.
Vinum Rubrum 🔥💕-- wine is better when you share a glass...and your mouths.
The Widow's Keeper ☕💔💕-- The reader and Higuruma traverse the complexities of love and grief, after the death of Nanami Kento, her first husband.
"Your Honour" Ask and Drabble 💕🤡🔥-- Hiromi forgets your name as he cums.
Suguru Geto Masterlist
Updated: 23rd February 2024
REQUESTS OPEN!
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Deadly Nightshade 🐙🔥💕-- a Suguru Geto "sex pollen" fic.
Kamo Choso Masterlist
Updated: 28th December 2023
REQUESTS OPEN!
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Glory Glory 🔥☕-- 'Help, I'm stuck!' on a mission together, and virgin Choso is offered the opportunity of a lifetime.
Snowhere to Go ☕💕-- When your date plans are foiled by the snow, you and Choso make your own fun with a stack of old board games.
Aoi Todo Masterlist
Updated: 27th January 2024
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Act of the Soul 🔥-- Aoi Todo uses his Boogie Boogie on the reader during sex.
JJK's Multi-Character Masterlist
Updated: 20th March 2024
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Being gross in long-term comfortable relationships ☕💕-- with Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Yuuta, Maki, Megumi, Nobara, Yuuji and Ino
"Cumfaces" Ask and Drabble 🤡
Defending Your Honour ☕💕-- the JJK boys are sick of the creeps and perverts who harass our dear reader.
Nanami, Todo and Geto
Higuruma, Ino and Yuuji
Gojo, Megumi and Nobara, Inumaki and Toji
Firemen 💔☕💕-- the JJK Crew rescue the Reader, and fall in love at the same time.
Nanami and Higuruma Aesthetics: ☕ 'Besto Friendos' dichotomies
Neat Suit/Messy Suit
Cold Anger/Hot Anger
"Stay down!" Fighter/"Get Up!" Fighter
City-Skyline Penthouse/Converted-Factory Penthouse aesthetics
IKEA Flat-pack Aesthetics
How They Ejaculate 🔥📚-- a physiological ejaculation study of Gojo, Nanami, Geto, Choso, Toji, Higuruma and TrueForm!Sukuna
Penis Synonym Smutfics 🤡🔥 -- with Nanami Kento, Hiromi Higuruma, Takuma Ino, Gojo Satoru and Inumaki Toge
Penpals (a Panda fic) 🐼☕-- he didn't mean to Catfish you. Honestly.
Shower Mat 🔥💕-- the reader buys an 'old lady shower mat'...that makes shower shenanigans suddenly possible.
Takuma Ino as a Young Dad ☕💕-- when Takuma unexpectedly becomes a father...
The Rebounds 🔥💕-- Yuuta and Maki show you the date of your life, after you're dumped
They Find You Wearing This...Unsexy Monstrosity 🤡 -- with Itadori Yuuji, Satoru Gojo, Higuruma, Sukuna, Toji, Nanami and Suguru
2K notes · View notes
diordeer · 1 month
Text
౨ৎ HOW YOU GET THE GIRL PT.2
“remind me how it used to be, pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks… and say you want me” - taylor swift (smau)
contains: charlie bushnell x fem!reader (part 1 here)
description: i just watched an edward scissorhands ballet and its made me reminiscent of my dance days… why did angsty teen me quit!!
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Liked by iamcharliebushnell, dior.n.goodjohn and others
yn.ln last little photo dump, with taylor stealing my phone and taking a selfie which is something i never thought would happen?!
tagged iamcharliebushnell, taylorswift
View all comments.
user1 charlies been REAL quiet since the comment
↳ user2 I dont think its awkward between them bc otherwise she wouldnt be posting them together
dior.n.goodjohn imagine having THE TAYLOR SWIFT hijack ur phone
↳ yn.ln ikr like i mean she can keep it if she wants idm 🤷‍♀️
user3 me trying to figure out if the post is from the mv or behind the scenes
↳ user4 yeeah like it IS a scene but from a phone camera… and they r pretty close
user13 HE WANTS U FOR WORSE OR FOR BETTER!!!!
user5 well, she isnt fighting the dating allegations is she
↳ user6 why would she have to?
taylorswift 😘😘😘
user7 R THEY TOGETHER??!!
↳ user8 i dont think so, just rly close
user9 why is it the end of the photo dumps 😃
↳ user10 probs bc thats all the photos she has from it 🙄
user11 ok NOW get her cast on percy jackson
user12 they better be dating or im going to kms
Direct Messages:
You: Heyy charlie, what was that comment about that walker sent?
Charlie: Ohh did u see that?
You: Yeah sorryyyy!
Charlie: No dont be sorry, it was just walker yk? he goes on about random stuff to annoy people a bit
Yn: So.. its not true?
Charlie: I think it was just a joke 😄
Yn: Oh okayy! Sorry! Are we still on for the weekend then? Maybe we can chat ab it
Charlie: Of course!!!! … whats there to talk about tho?
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Liked by taylorswift, iamcharliebushnell and others
yn.ln we in fact had A LOT to talk about
tagged iamcharliebushnell
View all comments.
user5 why do i feel like we missed a chapter
dior.n.goodjohn if i had to sit through one more session of you two yearning for eachover i might have gone crazy
↳ user6 why can i envision this perfectly
user1 talk about, or kiss about?
↳ yn.ln WOWOWOW
user2 HE GOT THE GIRL!!
walker.scobell i take full credit for this
↳ user4 everyone say thank u to walker!
↳ user3 thank u walker 🙏
↳ iamcharliebushnell thank you walker
↳ yn.ln aint no way charlie, u were in so much denial about his comment its embarassing
↳ iamcharliebushnell 😣😣😣
leahsavajeffries FINALLY!!!
user7 OMGOMGOMG
taylorswift i feel like im a matchmaker rn
↳ yn.ln you are, and a very good one at that
user8 ON VALENTINES DAY TOO? SOMEONE GRAB ME A GUN RN
user9 jokes aside her hairband is super cute
↳ yn.ln its my prized possession, i will wear it any chance i get
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Liked by taylorswift, dior.n.goodjohn and others
yn.ln omgomg, still in awe that our how you get the girl music video won an AWARD?! It was all u taylor boo 🩷🩷
tagged iamcharliebushnell, taylorswift
View all comments.
user1 THE OUTFITS? THE HAIR? THEY ALL ATE SO HARD THERES NOT EVEN A KITCHEN ANYMORE
taylorswift all ME?! u ARE how u get the girl
↳ yn.ln STOP THIS MADNESS
↳ iamcharliebushnell what about mee?? 😣
↳ yn.ln oh! 😄 well ur a guy so…
↳ user3 me he heee
↳ user4 yns so real
sabrinacarpenter ahh congrats!! So well deserved!! 🎉🎉
user2 i cant believe this is real, yn, taylor, and charlie ?!?!
dior.n.goodjohn I WAS ROOTING FOR U!!
↳ iamcharliebushnell I WOULD HOPE SO?!
user5 charlie got the girl and got the award !
↳ user6 that was so cringey
user7 yn and taylor are my new fav duo
gracieabrams YESS!! WELL DONE 🥳🥳
taglist: @highfidelities @lostinhisworld @lizziesfirstwife @auttumnsayshi @silkenthusiasts @taygrls @kidkrowk @kanojous @niktwazny303 @m00ng4z3r
736 notes · View notes
hoseokieswrld · 5 months
Text
STILL DON'T KNOW MY NAME | JJK (M)
CHAPTER ONE:
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Pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader
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Summary: In which a video game streamer, Jeon Jungkook, finds— and is intrigued by— an account that writes nsfw fanfiction about him and decides to send them a private message. He still doesn’t know your name.
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Genre: smut, pwp, internet strangers to lovers
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Category: three-shot
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Collab with: @dollfaceksj —> her masterlist
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Banner by: @archivedkookie
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WARNINGS: sexting, explicit sexual content, strong language, pornography, cybersex, exchanging in nude photos, hidden identities
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total word count: 4.7k. masterlist next part—>
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“Ah, fuck! He got me where I couldn’t see him!”Jungkook yells into his microphone, frustrated at his followers during his twitch stream. “Damn it, I was so close.” Jungkook puts his face into his palms, looking at his monitor and seeing all the comments being left in the chat.
User386290: Damn jk he got your ass lmao
Jkssideh0e: aww kook dw you're still fine asf
Jungkook ignores the thirst comments. They don’t make him uncomfortable, he’s just used to them. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the thirst comments and they actually give him a little ego boost. Whenever he loses at something, he tends to get very annoyed and end the stream.
“Well, that didn’t go as planned and that honestly killed the mood,” Jungkook weakly laughs. “It's getting late and I’ve already been streaming for two and a half hour anyway, so I think I’m gonna end the stream guys, sorry.” He turns his attention to his camera. There seems to be lots of women in today's stream judging from the comments left in the chat.
Kookswrld: noooo dont go yet bby >:(
Ashln00: im gonna miss ur sexy ass
yrma4l: leaving us already wow whtevr
“Don’t worry, guys. I’ll stream tomorrow night at the same time and I’ll be posting some clips of tonight's stream later on my Twitter and Instagram for you guys to rewatch.” He’s really appreciative of his followers and he enjoys seeing them beg him to stay on stream, even if some of the comments are sometimes a little out of pocket.
“Okay, I’m gonna hop off the stream now. Thanks to everybody who joined and donated on my stream today. I really appreciate you guys, and tomorrow I’ll come back on and play COD with some of you guys too. Goodnight, everyone!” Jungkook waves as the comments bid him goodbye.
Jkssideh0e: bye bby
Cl0v3r2000: see u tmw sexy
Jeoncjungk: byeee!! :)
_elicticmoonl1ght: you did so well today baby ill def tune in tmw ;))
Jungkook smiles at the pet names, not being able to contain his flusteredness from the camera. The compliments he gets from his followers are much flirtier to him.
Jungkook has been streaming for a little over a year now. At first, it started out as a silly little hobby when he had some free time after his friend Taehyung suggested he should start streaming. After a while, more and more people started to join and watch his lives. Not only was Jungkook good at video games but he was also insanely attractive, one of the reasons he has such a large female audience. After gaining more followers by the day, his once-a-week streams became twice a week, which then resulted in five times a week. Jungkook never thought his love for video games would get him this far, it was only a silly hobby of his. A year later, he has 1 million followers that watch and share his streams. He truly loves his followers.
Jungkook finally ends the two and a half hour stream. He gets up, washes up for the night before he gets into bed. He’s had a pretty long day between photography sessions he does on the side and streaming, so he’s glad he has time to lie down in bed and edit videos for the night.
After posting, he decides to scroll through his feed on twitter since he hasn’t all day.
@lili57_: Jungkook on his stream today tho?!! Yall gotta hold me back fr he is TOO fine my god.
@jjkkoooks: jk got another tattoo?? he is wattpad come to life 😛
That’s until he scrolls on his Twitter timeline and notices a familiar username.
_elicticmoonl1ght
Where did he recognize that name from? He thinks long and hard from his stream’s chat today, and finally remembers. This definitely has to be the same user from earlier, so the only logical thing Jungkook thinks to do is press on the account’s page.
“Holy shit,” are the first words that come out of his mouth as his eyes practically bulge out of his skull.
“NSFW 18+ ONLY ACCOUNT DEDICATED TO JEON JUNGKOOK” were the first words in your bio…and then the multiple threads of sexual content you write about Jungkook.
A whole nsfw account dedicated to me? I didn’t think people would go out of their day to write explcit stories about me. Jungkook’s thoughts are clouding his mind. He knows he has very loyal followers who watch and share all his streams, but this? Jungkook would have never thought in a million years that people would make porn accounts about him. He’s just a regular dude in his 20s who likes to play video games.
Jungkook decides to go through your page, each post making him more flustered the more he scrolls down. Fuck, do you know how to write, he thinks to himself, truly amazed at how you write each scenario to every last detail, making it sound realistic. That is until he almost cums on the spot, heart racing faster than ever when he comes across one of your most updated posts:
"Mmh, fuck, Kook. Right there, please, don't stop," I whine into the comforter of the mattress while my boyfriend pounds into my soaked pussy from behind, knocking the breath out of my lungs.
"Yeah, baby, like that? I'm gonna make this pussy squirt for me," Jungkook groans out, going harder and faster on me, constantly spanking my ass to make sure he leaves his mark.
Jungkook is starting to get way too hard for his liking. He is so incredibly turned on by your writing, he has never expected to grow an erection from reading fictional porn about him. He mentally debates with himself whether jerking off to this is weird or not, but then realizes he hasn’t gotten himself off in days.
Porn isn’t doing it for him anymore, so he hasn’t watched it in weeks. He feels like the porn now isn’t real or natural. A girl screaming her head off like she was getting murdered was not even remotely hot to him, so he hasn’t had the desire to watch anything of the sort. Jungkook also had a few sneaky links here and there, but hasn’t hooked up with any in months. Unfortunately, he felt like they got too clingy and they even started to expect more from him. So now that he’s by himself, jerking off to this doesn’t seem like a bad idea, especially if it’s about him.
Oh, fuck it, Jungkook surrenders to himself and pulls down his sweatpants just past his balls, cock springing to life and hitting his stomach. Jungkook quickly scrambles to open his bedside table to pull out his lotion he uses for times like these. Impatiently, he squirts a good amount of the lotion into his palm and wraps his large tattooed hand around his throbbing cock.
Jungkook’s body jerks from the sensation of his lotioned hand stroking his sensitive cock, slightly squeezing the tip. His veiny cock twitches, begging for a release of some sort. His chest slightly heaves, forgetting how pleasing himself every once in a while can feel so good. “Mhm- Fuck,” he sighs quietly, picking up his phone to continue reading your post.
“Gonna cum, Kook, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” I mewl out from the immense amount of pleasure my boyfriend is giving me with his huge girthy cock, constantly rubbing against my g-spot. He shuts me up with a rough steamy kiss, never slowing down the pace of his hard thrusts. My back slightly starts hurting from being so deeply arched for him, but I can’t say I don’t like it.
He pulls away from the kiss, a long string of saliva connecting the both of our lips still. “Yeah, you're gonna cum for me? All talk until I give your bratty ass attention.” Jungkook says through gritted teeth, wrapping a hand in my hair and pulling it backwards to expose my beautiful, untouched neck to him. He leans in, harshly nibbling and sucking on my skin, leaving it bruised and bitten. I can’t help but admit defeat and whimper under his touch.
“I’m still being a cunt, right? Isn’t that what you said earlier? Huh, baby? Answer me.” Jungkook pulls on my hair again, waiting for my reply. He can’t help but go harder from my desperation, tears building up in the corners of my eyes from how hard he’s gripping my hair.
Jungkook can’t stop reading, finding your bratty attitude so fucking hot, imagining himself fucking into your tight, warm pussy faster. He gets more comfortable in bed, laying down as he squeezes the tip of his cock with every stroke of his large hand, more and more precum spilling out fromhis tip. His lips become red and swollen from biting down on them in a lousy attempt to contain his little whines and groans.
What makes this even hotter is him not knowing what you look like, sending him into a horny headspace. Still fisting his hard, lengthy cock, he gathers spit in his mouth, letting it dribble from his lips onto the head of his swollen dick, a little saliva getting caught in his dark pubes. He whines as he feels some of his saliva dripping down to his balls, the sound of fapping noises filling the room.
“N-no, Kook, you’re not. M’sorry, please- fuck,” I plead my boyfriend as he palms my tits under my tank top, letting the straps fall off my shoulders. He continues to feel me up, occasionally twisting and pinching my sensitive nipples.
Your words and writing make him imagine you, a mystery girl, begging him to fuck you. This is exactly what he likes. His cock only oozes more precum and begs for release. Jungkook takes off his shirt and the rest of his sweats, fully naked in the darkness of his bedroom. He wipes the layer of sweat off of his forehead and massages his balls a bit more, the sensation too good to stop.
“Gonna give what you want baby, yeah?” He finally lets me cum after teasing and torturing me for far too long.
This is the part Jungkook’s been waiting for. The tension building up was enough to get him excited, but this is the part he’s been looking forward to the most. This is what has him thrilled, reading about him finally letting you cum. He can’t describe how badly he wants your tight, velvety walls wrapping around his thick cock. Jungkook recreates the feeling of it by squeezing his hard member with his large palm, moaning a little louder than before.
“Fuck- I’m cumming,” I whine, wrapping my legs around his waist forcing him closer to me.
Is this girl keeping tabs on him? Jungkook can’t tell if he finds it weird or hot that this is exactly how he likes it in real life. He loves how his hands grip your thighs and his fingers sink into the supple flesh. For him, it's the best position. Hitting it from behind. Reading about it makes this ten times better. The way he has a close look at a girl's pussy and ass, her back arched so deeply into the mattress; it only shows how much more power he has over her in bed. He simply loves it. Jungkook can already feel himself getting closer, but wants to finish reading before he cums.
Jungkook keeps a hard steady pace, never losing track of his harsh pace. I can feel his cock throb inside of me, knowing that he’s close to cumming.
“Oh- fuck,” Jungkook groans, imagining him doing this in real life. The way you describe yourself for him is a major turn on, wishing you weren’t just a fake scenario but in his room instead. Fuck, he never knew he could be so envious of his ownself. His cock spurts even more precum than before, the darkness of his bedroom full of skin slapping sounds from the way he jerks himself off so fast. He can only imagine his lotioned hand being your tight soaked cunt.
I finally cum, legs shaking from how powerful my orgasm is. I dig my nails into Jungkook’s big arms when he doesn’t stop fucking into me. Being so fucked out like this drives himcloser to his high, his body collapsing on top of mine as he thrusts into me a few more times as I clench and tear up from the overstimulation.
“Fuck, baby, gonna cum inside you. That okay with you?” Jungkook desperately speaks out into my ear, waiting for my permission.
“Yeah, cum inside me, want your cum in me so bad, Kook.”
Your begging is enough to send Jungkook over the edge. He whines loudly, arm on fire from how hard he jerks himself off, chest heaving. He bites his lip harder, sticking his tongue out to play with his piercings, abs clenching as he’s only a few seconds away from cumming.
Jungkook finally cums inside of me with his final thrust, making my cunt feel so full.
“Fuckkk,” Jungkook groans out as he finally releases all over his stomach and hand, palm never slowing down while stroking his throbbing cock. It drips down in thick layers over his tattooed fingers, falling onto his dark pubic hair. Jungkook swears he’s never cum that hard from masturbating in his life.
He takes a second to recollect himself, still slightly in a daze. Jungkook points his attention downward to his stomach, heaving up and down with every breath. He notices the way his cum sticks to his big fingers. He slightly rubs his cock a little more, the feeling too good to stop, the loose skin going up and down with every stroke.
He stops after a few seconds, being slightly overstimulated. He reaches over to his bedside table, grabbing a few tissues and wiping off the cum from his stomach and lotion from his hand. Jungkook can’t lie, he really enjoyed reading and getting off to that, and wouldn’t be opposed to doing it again. He could scroll all night reading all of your horny thoughts and posts, you are really good at it.
That's when he gets an idea. He obviously can’t keep stalking and liking your posts from his professional streaming account, that would just blow his cover.
He quickly logs out of his personal account and creates a new burner account with the username ian_97. Jungkook quickly sets up his account making it look less like a fake bot account which results in him putting a picture of his dog, Bam, as the profile picture. He quickly edits his bio which consists of his real age and where he's from. There’s no way you’d think it's actually Jungkook who's following and liking all your posts. Would you even notice his account? You already have 3,000 followers who like and interact with all your posts, mostly being fanpages of him, so there isn’t much to worry about.
Jungkook follows your account, liking a bunch of your posts. He hates himself for getting a little hard, but nothing he can't sleep off. He wonders how you even found him and got interested enough to make an entire nsfw account about him. He’s not complaining though, he finds it hot as fuck.
Jungkook checks the time. ‘It's 12:30 am already? That means I've been reading through her account for like an hour, holy shit.’ Jungkook blinks at how long he’s been caught up in your page. He sighs, plugging his phone into the charger, deciding it's time to get some sleep. Jungkook remembers the long list of errands he has to carry out tomorrow morning which partially makes him annoyed but not much since he needs to get out of the house. He soon falls asleep peacefully, with you on his mind.
——————————————————————————-
A week and a half has passed since Jungkook’s little smut reading session and finding your page. Since then, he’s gotten so busy with life, doing the photography sessions he does on the side, home chores, and taking care of Bam which is a huge chore in itself. For some reason, he’s had a huge rush in which people want to book with him. Jungkook is glad people enjoy his work, don't get him wrong, but it's more complicated than it seems.
Jungkook spends hours if not days editing all the pictures he’s taken, and him being a perfectionist does not make it a quick task. Getting caught up with all of this ends in him not streaming in over a week, knowing his followers have been begging him to go live. He misses his followers a bunch, and needs to take his mind off things, so after he finishes editing all his pictures and sending them to his clients, he decides to go live.
“Hey everyone, miss me? Sorry I’ve been gone for a while, I got caught up in a lot with some personal matters. And yes, I’ve seen all your tweets begging me to go live and play COD. Well, your wish has been granted!” Jungkook enthusiastically states while reading the comments.
jjkgf613: finally we missed u!!
hoe4.jk: HES BACKKKKK!!!
kookiejjar: heyy hope you're alright :(
“Thanks guys, I missed y’all too, and don’t worry! I’m okay, just been putting a lot of stuff off that needed to be done. Other than that, it's all good! I’m back to streaming for you guys.” Jungkook is glad he has so many people that care for him, he couldn’t ask for better, more supportive followers.
kookswrld: yayyy we got our jungkook back :0
Jungkook chuckles and smiles, but it quickly drops from his face as his eyes drop to the comment right under it.
_elictmoonl1ght: missed u !
Jungkook’s cock twitches in his sweats, memories flooding back in from almost 2 weeks ago when he got off your posts. Fuck, how could I forget? He mentally argues with himself on how that totally slipped his mind. He wonders if you noticed his burner account following you or if you wrote more posts on your page about him. Jungkook quickly snaps out of it, clearing his throat, remembering he’s live streaming with 300k people watching.
“A-ahem, sorry guys, I thought I heard Bam or something. Uhm, let's just get back to the stream.” Jungkook clears his throat, trying to play off the long awkward pause in his stream, cheeks heating when he realizes how deep he was in his thoughts about you. Fuck, he needs to get a grip.
Fortunately, Jungkook is well distracted in his game and interacting with his followers for the past 2 hours, making up for his almost 2 weeks absence. He yawns as he glances at the clock above his screen which reads 10:39 pm. It's late and his eyes are starting to burn from staring at the screen for too long, deciding it's time to end the stream.
“Okay guys, it's getting late so I think I’m going to end the stream. Thank you guys for playing with me, I had a lot of fun reconnecting with y'all. I’ll definitely be going live again soon this week. Don’t forget to check out Instagram and Twitter for more updates. Love you guys, goodnight! ” Jungkook waves at his camera above his monitor, giving his fans a genuine sweet smile. The comments bid him goodbye.
Kookiejjar: gn <33
User386290: seen u soon
Jkssideh0e: gn bf :)))
Jungkook ends the stream, exhausted but happy he got to go live. Streaming is his main source of income, but he does it because he enjoys it, not because it makes him the most money. Also, he makes money off of his sponsorships and photography sessions. Jungkook is pretty financially stable for a 27 year old, it's just him and Bam.
Jungkook cooks himself a small late night meal after his stream, remembering he didn’t get the chance to eat dinner. He makes his favorite go-to meal: spicy buldak ramen. Even though he might regret it later, he doesn’t care, eager to finally eat something after a few hours.
Jungkook finishes his meal and washes all the dishes he used, then puts Bam back into his play pen. He feels sweaty and dirty after his long day, deciding to take a nice hot shower before bed. He relaxes under the shower faucet, not realizing how tense he is. Fuck, loosen up man, he mentally puts himself in check. Jungkook has piled up a lot of stress this past week and a half. Embarrassingly, he hasn’t gotten himself off or had sex in even longer. Jungkook freezes as he remembers earlier events from his day.
“_elictmoonl1ght: missed u!”
Jungkook quickly finishes his shower, turning off the faucet, drying himself off at the speed of light, not even bothering to put on any clothes. He sprints to his bed, rips his phone off its charger and clicks on Twitter.
Jungkook’s stomach bubbles in excitement wondering how much he’s missed your account. He switches from his personal streaming account to his burner, immediately pressing onto your profile. The first thing he sees is an off guard picture of his side profile with the tip of his pink tongue playing with his lips rings from today's stream. He looks so focused and sexy, yet his cock twitches when he reads the caption:
@_elictmoonl1ght: the nose, the piercings, the jaw line, his lips THE TONGUE??!!! needa to ride his face until he begs me to stop. Fuck, i swear he gets more fine everytime he streams :P
Jungkook throws his phone to the side, stripping from his clothings. He throws his shirt and boxers somewhere on the floor of his room, lying down on his bed. Impatiently, he spits into the palm of his hand, too eager to get up and grab his lotion, and places his hand on his cock, stroking until it's firm.
His long and large fingers wrap around his veiny dick, sticky and wet from his saliva. He lets out a small whimper, cock a little sensitive from not being able to get off for almost two weeks. His cock is red, spurting a bit of precum just from imagining how horny you must’ve been when you wrote about him. Jungkook wishes you were with him right now, stroking his hard cock for him, begging him to cum for you.
He continues to scroll down your page, exclusively looking for explicit posts you’ve written about him. A few swipes later, he finds a new and different story you’ve posted. Jungkook presses on the thread and begins reading, smiling from excitement.
Jungkook roughly pushes me onto the bed, stripping me of my clothes.
“Wet as fuck, baby. All for me, right?” Jungkook eyes down my figure, pulling me to the edge of the bed as he takes off my shorts, leaving me in only my underwear.
“Yeah, Kook, just for you, please don’t tease,.” I beg Jungkook as he traces my slit through my panties, sticking them more to my core than before.
Jungkook quickens the pace he strokes his cock at, imagining you, the mystery writer, laying spread out in front of him in your little panties, giving him a full view of your ass and pussy. If you were here, he’d toy with your pussy outside of your underwear, tracing his finger over your lower lips, making sure to press down on your tight, soaked hole, smacking your ass after watching it jiggle. His pace never stops, nipples becoming hard from the cold air in his room, yet every other part of his body is on fire.
“Gonna give you what you want,” Jungkook begins as he pulls down my panties and throws them onto the floor. He lowers himself in front of me, eyeing my soaked cunt, clit begging for some sort of stimulation. He begins by kissing my inner thighs a few times, occasionally biting on them, causing me to whimper in pain.
After a minute of teasing, he finally brings his lips to my cunt, giving it a long, slow lick from my hole to my clit.
“Shit,” Jungkook groans, eating pussy is one of his favorite things to do. It’s crazy how you’ve been writing about all the things he likes. His cock twitches at the thought of having his head between your thighs, imagining your pussy to be plump and soaked for him, clit throbbing whenever his nose bumps into it. He groans out, never stopping the pace he strokes his veiny cock at, wishing he could have the taste of you in his mouth.
“L-like that, Kook,.” I beg him as he devours me like I’m his last meal. He doesn’t take a moment to breathe, but instead constantly sucks on my clit, occasionally moving down to lick at my quivering hole. However, he stops and removes his face from my pussy. His face is covered in my wetness, some of it on the tip of his nose to his chin.
“Sit up,” he demands me while he lays down on his back. That's it? He’s not going to finish the job?
I sit up and stare at him in confusion when the next few words he says makes my pussy clench in desire.
“Ride my face. C’mon, babe.” Jungkook urges me to straddle his face. I’ve never sat on his face, but I’m not opposed to it.
I straddle him, his eyes staring straight into mine as he grabs the back of my thighs, wasting no time in urging me to sit on his face. When I finally lower myself onto him, I jolt from the pleasure. His nose begins to hit directly onto my clit, wet tongue proding at my hole.
“Fuck, feels so good, Kook, d-dont stop,” I plead him, my legs shaking on each side of his head. His tongue and nose constantly working on my pussy has me lightheaded, my words becoming squeals and whines. I decide to be bold, slightly rocking my hips back and forth across his face, lifting myself up every few seconds to let him breathe.
Jungkook fists his cock at a fast, rough pace. Your words were perfect and made it so realistic to imagine. Jungkook pants, “Fuckkk mh- yeah, like that, baby,” as he imagines you humping his face. His balls tighten, thinking about how tight and wet your pussy probably is. He dreams of your plump pussy constantly rubbing onto his nose and lips, maybe even feeling some of your shortly trimmed pubes brush against his skin.
Jungkook is so fucking close, losing it at the thought of your wetness still connecting your pussy to his mouth. His stomach clenches, eyes squeezing shut, feeling a dribble of sweat running down his defined abs. His cock is harder than ever in these past two weeks. His cock is begging to release all the cum he’s been holding in, balls tensing at the thought of cumming everywhere.
Jungkook can tell I’m close by the way I have a tight grip on his hair, and my constant begs to cum. He eventually complies and gives a final kiss to my pussy.
“Want you to come now. That good with you, baby?” He says as he shoves his mouth onto my poor swollen pussy, not even giving me the chance to answer him.
Jungkook doesn’t stop with his rough sucking and licks, determined to make me cum all over his face. My moans and begs are louder than before, my hands gripping his long, luscious hair. He brings all his attention to my clit, sucking on it harshly. My stomach snaps from all the pressure.
“Mh- cumming, Kook. C-cumming,” I cry out as I ride out my high on his tongue and lips, not stopping until I soak his entire face.
Jungkook finally reaches his breaking point, hot white cum coating the back of his hand and stomach, a little seeping onto his belly button. He continues to milk his cock dry until he whimpers from the overstimulation. He just can’t stop. Not knowing who you are or how you look makes the situation even hotter. You don’t have to show him how you look, your words are just enough to make him cum.
Jungkook finally stops stroking his cock, but leaves his tattooed hand there. It might’ve been the little bit of horniness left in him, but he decides to be a little bold. He clicks on your account, scrolls to the top of your page and presses the little message button in the top right corner, and at that he sends you the message.
“hey, your writing is amazing and i cant lie turns me on a lot. Wanna see if u can put those words to good use bby:)”
——————————————————————————
a/n: hi guys! i really hope you enjoyed part 1 of sdkmn! this is my very first fic ever and im glad to share it yall finally!! i have no idea when part 2 will be sooo pls dont ask LOL but i hope yall enjoyed it and are ready for the next part! pls don’t be shy to share or reblog they are very much appreciated! id also like to thank @dollfaceksj and @peachypinkygloss for helping me so much through the writing process and making this story 10x better!! my asks are always open and i hope yall stay tuned for part 2! thank youuu🫶🏻🥹💞 -eli
taglist:
@dollfaceksj @nini_07777 @ahgasegotarmy116 @jm1003myg @gxtwllsn @babycandy111
@kelly-fushiguro345 @jksjx @earth2fae @kissyfacekoo @s3l3n0phil3 @llallaaa @kingofbodyrolls @jkslaugh97 @diorh0seokie e @rooonilwaazlib @Rosymermaidsinthesand @taebae19 @honeeybunneey @lesoleile @kookssecret @butterymin @ohsweetmimosa
@i-like-puppy-mg @screamertannie
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woahjo · 25 days
Text
The People We Became (Bakugou x Reader)
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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.
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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.”
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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!
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javierpena-inatacvest · 9 months
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It's Never Too Late Masterlist
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Summary: You are an elementary school teacher who just moved to Texas for a fresh start when you meet a very handsome man from the Laredo Sheriff's Department coming to give your class a presentation.
After your co-workers pull some strings for you to meet again, you and Javier Peña find yourselves falling head over heels for each other.
Story takes place post Narcos Season 3 in Laredo, Texas, starting May 1997.
Paring: Javier Peña x OFC (Reader is an elementary school teacher whose nickname is Osita, no use of y/n)
Warnings: SMUT (18+ chapters containing marked with * and each chapter will also have its own warnings), language, fluff, romantic comedy, reader has physical descriptions, Javi being so soft and getting all the love and affection he deserves, you two being the biggest weirdos so in love
Status: Ongoing
Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list for new chapters as they come out! :)
Main Story:
Chapter 1: I D.A.R.E. You
Chapter 2: What's Cookin', Good Lookin'?
Chapter 3: I Wanna Be With You Everywhere*
Chapter 4: Add You To My List*
Chapter 5: You're The One That I Want*
Chapter 6: Dinosaurs, Dates and Diners, Oh My!*
Chapter 7: School's Out for Summer*
Chapter 8: My Favorite Cowboy*
Chapter 8.5: 007- Peña, Agent Peña*
Chapter 9: I Promise*
Chapter 10: Happy Birthday, Javi*
Pt. 1*
Pt. 2*
Chapter 11: Abe Froman, Sausage King of Chicago *
Chapter 12: I Love You. I Know. *
Chapter 13: There's No Place Like Home*
Chapter 14: Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas*
Chapter 15: She Shoots, She Scores*
Chapter 16: The Lone Star State*
Chapter 17: No Ifs, Ands, Or Butts*
Chapter 18: Hole in None*
Chapter 19: Good Luck, and Goodnight*
Chapter 20: I Do
Pt. 1*
Spin-Off Series:
Forever and Always*: Slices of life following the Peña family after their first child
One Shots (In chronological order of the main storyline):
Movie Night*
Dirty Laundry*
Again*
You're My Home*
Not Yet*
Happy Valentine's Day, Javier Peña*
The Mouse and the Motorcycle
You Make Life Worth It
Take Me Home
Plaid Pajama Morning
Agent Peña*
Every Inch*
Soup for Breakfast
Whatever My Wife Wants*
Oh, Baby
Peanut Butter and Pickles
Asks/Headcannons:
Javi and Osita before work
Javi's DEA Jacket
Javi's Tac Vest
Javi and Osita when they argue
Javi being distractingly cute
Javi when he's sick
Osita when she's pregnant
Osita after a bad day at work
Javi coming home after work to his kids
Extras:
NSFW Alphabet- Javi and Osita
1K Followers Celebration Asks and Answers
Never Too Late Playlist
Mood board
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j-0ne25 · 13 days
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GIVE ME YOUR TMI — [18+!]
AN INTERACTIVE STORY
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“Well,” he starts again, “in case you ever need someone to take care of you, you know that my room is upstairs, baby.”
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🌷 Caught up in lots of uni stress, you help your friend Minho with studying for the upcoming exam at his place. The tension between the two of you has been growing for some time now and you are just waiting for him to make a move on you. But then there’s also your other friend—Minho’s roommate Jisung—who is desperately looking for your attention. Soon, it gets pretty obvious that the two of them just want to find out who will be your choice, secretly hoping you will spend the night with both of them. However, that’s entirely up to you!
❕ [READ CAREFULLY] You, Y/N, are the main character in this interactive story, falling for both your friends Minho and Jisung. In order to choose whoever you want to end up with, simply select an option after reading this chapter [options will be highlighted and have a link attached to them] and follow the path!
📖 CONTENT INFO: minho x reader, jisung x reader, college au, minho and jisung are roommates and rich boys, smut with plot and a bit of fluff but also the tiiiiiniest sprinkle of angst, friends to lovers, a pretty lighthearted story after all the drama i have written in the past months lmao [warnings under cut]
🖊️ WORD COUNT: ~9.0K [or 13.9K in total if you read all options]
🩷 AUTHOR’S NOTE: Your queen and pioneer of interactive stories [24 to 25 in 2022 and Red Lights in 2023] is back! I am suuuper excited to share another one that I have been working on for some time :) I hope you like this simpler oneshot with only two of the members [my ult bias and my wrecker] too! If that’s the case I would be very grateful if you shared your thoughts with me by reblogging, commenting, sending an ask etc.! Thank you for always being here and being so supportive, it’s insane. Have a wonderful day and enjoy reading this little story. 🫶🏻 — Yours, Tan 🍓
⛓️ CONTENT WARNING: [not too specific to prevent spoilers], explicit sexual content [includes dom/sub dynamics, oral f + m receiving, semi-protected sex, semi-public sex, marking m receiving, edging, reader gets blindfolded and has to guess who kisses, touches, etc. her (I’m so sorry, this story suddenly became wilder than planned), use of names like princess, baby, good girl, angel, slut, whore], slight jealousy but not much
The characters do not portray any of the skz members in real life, the names are just used for fiction. Minors do not interact, this post contains mature topics. By reading you consent to nsfw content and agree that you have read all the warnings above carefully.
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“I’ll make it up to you, I swear. But I’m running late,” you shout through the speakers of your phone. 
The subway is cramped, severely cramped and it takes every strength within you—mentally and physically—not to spill the two paper cups’ liquids all over an innocent passenger sticking to your body. The fact the coffee is so hot that you’re burning your fingertips by solely holding the items makes everything harder. Especially, since you’re simultaneously trying to balance your posture—cursing internally every time the wagon rushes around a sharp corner—and the device that’s caged between your ear and shoulder.
The other people are already looking at you, possibly you’re once again speaking way too loud. But it isn’t easy, drowning out the obnoxious voice of your friend who is on the other side of the phone call. It makes sense that he invites you to his place—his apartment is way more spacious and closer to campus, just in case you need to borrow some books for your assigned study session today.
But you’re a natural when it comes to running late. Even if you get ready earlier, you always manage to leave the house past the time you have meticulously scribbled down in your phone’s notes app. It’s what you have to do—taking notes and planning every detail of your daily life. No matter if writing down when and what kind of meals to have, when the next deadline will be occurring, what’s on sale at the supermarket this week or when to take a break, allowing your exhausted lungs to take a deep deep breath of oxygen.
Easier said than done, especially in a big city like the one you’re living in—you’ve said goodbye to healthy and regular meals due to lack of time caused by your studies. 
So, that’s why you’re very much grateful to have a friend like Minho. You help him with studying for your shared finance and macro economic classes, whereas he always invites you for food and drinks. He can be glad to be born in a richer family, allowing him to not think twice about every won he spends. But he doesn’t necessarily show it, he doesn’t brag about his money nor status.
“Y/N, it’s okay,” Minho says. You’re almost at your destination by now and the subway is getting more and more crowded, barely fitting any new people. “Just be careful and ring the bell when you’re here, yeah?”
That’s what you do once you’re standing in front of the modern apartment building. The sun is still setting early—after all it’s just the beginning of the year and the semester. It explains a lot about your current lack of motivation, but hopefully both Minho and the two cups of coffee that you’re balancing between three fingers will soothe your mood.
“You’re finally here,” your friend announces once you flaunt into his spacious place. You’re greeted with the huge living room, the scent of lavender lingering in the air. 
“Sorry it took me so long, Min.”
You take a seat at the long dining table right next to him. He’s already got everything prepared—the study supplies including several electronic devices, sheets of paper, highlighters and pens, snacks such as a tray filled with fresh fruits, detox water and juice, as well as the infamous smirk on his face.
“Don’t worry, Y/N. We’ve got enough time, yeah? This just means you have to tutor me faster.”
You chuckle, taking a sip from the water. “Or you have to understand the theories quicker.”
Minho flicks the page, getting back to the exercise you last worked on. He can already feel his brain go all foggy at the sight of all the numbers on the paper, threatening to cause him a headache.
“I’ll try my best. I want to impress my talented tutor, you know?”
Especially since it's not the first time he’s throwing in some words that can be taken as a clue for flirting, it is almost embarrassing that you already feel the pace of your heart increasing at his sentence once again. That’s just how Minho is, how he speaks, how he behaves. He’s constantly searching for an excuse to get your attention, subtly adding a few teasing words in between the lines he drops—constantly making you wonder if there’s more than just this bond of friendship between you.
“Don’t worry about me, Min.”
Whereas Minho is embarrassed about the fact his palms always become sweaty whenever you use that specific nickname for him. It makes you seem even cuter, even more innocent. These days, the boy’s dreams are filled with none other than that – corrupting you, shaping you, making you feel good, using you to make himself feel good, worshiping your pretty body.
“Do you get it?”
Eyes wide open. Escaping the zoned out state. Fuck. You probably have noticed.
“Can you explain one more time?” He asks. His voice is quiet but you mistake it for lack of focus. You haven’t noticed.
“Of course. How about a break after that? I really need it.”
Ever since he met you last semester, Minho has been having some type of crush on you which he just can’t seem to get rid off. He almost feels embarrassed about it, but that’s just how it is now. The tutoring lessons both make it better and worse, this way he can spend some time with you but also feel himself getting more and more insane because of it.
“Sure,” he says, bringing his focus back to the current exercise.
🌷
Indian takeout is your choice of today’s study lesson’s retreat—Minho made you decide and, of course, invited you. The vegetable curry you’ve ordered smells delicious, letting your taste buds float on cloud nine. The both of you very much deserve it after such a long time of eating up all that finance and historical literature, your vision blurry from focusing on black letters swimming on cream white paper sheets.
“Do you like it?” Minho asks, handing you some more of the naan bread—the one with the cheese filling. You haven’t tried it before, but your liking for it is increasing.
“Yes! A lot. Thank you again. Next time I am–“
“No, no, no. You’re not. Y/N, you’re such a big help for me. That’s the least I can do.”
You nod, continuing with the bite you’ve carefully laid on your spoon. The cold breath from your mouth sinks the temperature of the meal, making it easier to swallow the spice. 
“Yo, did you order some for me too, Minho?”
There’s that certain obnoxious voice that fills the room again, the one that’s the reason why Minho has to scream on the phone with you all time to drown him out. He’s loud, he’s quiet, he’s vivacious, he’s introverted, he’s lazy, he’s hard working. But all in all—he’s his roommate, Han Jisung.
He’s your friend, too, but you’re closer with Minho. The three of you often hang out whenever you’re done studying. You’d like to get to know the younger one more, as you seem to share some interests and general habits, but perhaps both of you are too introverted or shy to propose that idea. Still, whenever Minho is around, his roommate turns into a confidence filled goofball that loves nothing more than talking and teasing—especially your study partner and sometimes you.
“It’s too much, you can have some,” Minho tells him without meeting his eyes.
Jisung scoffs. You still haven’t looked at him or rather he hasn’t replied to your glances, pretending you’re not in the same room as him. He sometimes does that. In the back of your mind you are wondering if that’s to make you crave his attention but then you remember it’s time to take your anti-delululu pills and stop believing he’s got a crush on you.
“Do you think I’m a pig who wants to eat your leftovers?”
Minho shakes his head and you witness his eyes rolling to the back of it. “Whatever. Take it or leave it.”
Jisung decides against the latter option. He sits down at the table, choosing the chair directly between his roommate and you.
“Hey, Y/N, how’s it going?” Jisung asks you, speaking to you for the first time that evening. He’s got his hair grown out, the black waves dangling down almost to his shoulders and the sweatpants and shirt indicating he’s just gotten back from another producing session. Yes, your friend has a little music group—or whatever the hell you wanna call it—named 3RACHA, that is pretty famous on campus.
“I’m fine, how’re you?”
He nods and takes a bite from the naan bread, dipping it in the chutney before and once the taste spreads over his tongue he hums a sweet melody.
“Did you choose the food? And Minho paid?”
You’re caught off guard. Now you really feel like a burden. Even though Minho has explicitly invited you, coming off as a gold digger is the last thing you want to be perceived as. But this might be the case here. Jisung has often caught you eating food after study lessons with his roommate so perhaps that’s what he perceives.
“No, it’s just– that’s his tactic with every person he wants to fuck,” Jisung smirks.
What?
You poke a bit around in your food, taking your anxiety out on the cauliflower, unsure what to respond. But you’re sure about this. Minho isn’t just inviting you to get his hands under your skirt. You wouldn’t decline an offer though. But he isn’t interested in you that way. He definitely isn’t. Earth to brain, shut the fuck–
“Don’t listen to him, Y/N. Jisung is just teasing you at my cost.”
But Minho is not sure about this. He does want to fuck you, yes. Sensually. Rough. Passionately. Deep. Hard. But that’s not the reason he’s paying for your food. He’s just being a gentleman and would do it nonetheless. He’s highly grateful for your help, seriously.
“Well,” Jisung starts again, “in case you ever need someone to take care of you, you know that my room is upstairs, baby.”
You want to roll your eyes and scold him but instead a scratching feeling erupts inside your throat once your body mistakes your lungs for your esophagus, making you choke on that stupid piece of cauliflower. Blood rushes up to your head, tears are pricking on your lower lash line. But Minho is fast to hand you a napkin and your glass of water.
He gives a small smack on your back, hoping to help you with the ongoing fight with your body. But said body and mind are entering another quest right now – the idea of how his hands would feel colliding somewhere else with your very much naked skin. A spank on your thigh, on your ass, on your pussy–
“Are you good again?”
Fucking embarrassing. Especially when you witness Jisung’s mischievous smirk on his face.
“Yeah, thank you.”
🌷
You find yourself in Minho’s bedroom upstairs now. For another quick study session though. It’s the first time you’re in his private space here, since the two of you usually study either in the living room or meet up in the library right after your classes. There’s no particular reason for him not bringing you here earlier—despite the fact it’s easier to focus and study when sitting on a big dining table with a somewhat okay posture. Your body now located on his bed, your spine rather equals the shape of a shrimp.
There’s a particular reason for him to bring you upstairs especially now, though. Jisung has invited some friends spontaneously, occupying the living space with both a group of people and his obnoxiously loud voice—you are so gonna bring a sound-level measuring device with you next time.
Although, if you are completely honest—you don’t own such an instrument and there’s got to be another way to find out who is—
Oh. No, no, no. Brain, please don’t go there. Barricade the impulsive thoughts now. Build a wall, a really thick wall. Shut the fuck up. You know exactly where these spirals of ideas guide you to—it’s nothing new after all. You’ve been having alarmingly risky fantasies these past weeks and you blame it on the upcoming finals season that they at some point developed into actual dreams. Unfortunately, the evolutionary step of them turning into reality has been failing to materialise so far.
“Why do they make us learn some physics formulas?” Minho sighs out of the blue.
Well, it’s not entirely out of the blue. You simply haven’t been paying attention to any sounds coming out of his mouth since your mind is focused on the way his lips are moving and you feel awful for it. Say thank you to the stress and the lack of intimacy in your life lately.
“The professor has a PhD in physics,” you explain, rolling your eyes. Bring back your fucking focus to the present, Y/N. It’s getting embarrassing. But are you really here to be blamed when Minho looks this good? You’re convinced he’s the reincarnation of some Greek God, just put here on earth to mess with your head while you should be paying attention to some calculations you will never need in life again after you—hopefully—passed this stupid exam.
Minho lets out a piled up lump of air, as his head falls back in exhaustion. “Surprising. Not.” He closes his eyes and with the position he’s in, you can see his Adam's apple, the light from his nightstand table falling right onto it. Life is so unfair.
“You okay, Y/N?”
Your breath hitches.
Has he noticed you ogling him? He probably has. But who the fuck looks so perfect while doing exactly nothing? You can’t be blamed here, right? You solely have eyes and Minho got into the view of them.
“I-I’m fine, sure,” you say with a suppressed giggle that emphasises your embarrassment.
“You’re sitting there like a shrimp, by the way.” He suddenly stands up from his seat, taking long strides towards his bed where you are sitting, crawled under a blanket he gave you some minutes ago. “No offence though. It’s just not good for your back.”
The worst thing is. He’s right. You’re still simping for him in your head while Minho points out how bad your posture is. You entered a new level of awkwardness now. Great.
“Oh, that’s where the pain is coming from,” you shyly reply with a chuckle, quickly sitting upright but this doesn’t lessen the discomfort in your upper body.
Your friend sits down and scoots closer, before he tilts his head, “You’re in pain and not realising it’s from your awful posture?” A laugh spills from his lips. 
“Hey, don’t bully my posture, Lee,” you reply, scrunching your eyebrows together while a faux pout appears on your face. You cross your arms in front of your chest, pretending to be offended.
“I am just speaking the truth, it’s not my problem you can’t handle criticism, princess,” he teases you further, clicking his tongue.
Princess. Oh, god. This is getting out of control quickly. At lightning speed, to be precise. You’re aware he doesn’t mean it in a flirty way—for what you know, he may just call you a diva instead. 
“Want me to do something about it? I can massage you, if you like–“
Your eyes are widening and your mouth immediately falls agape.
“Sorry, that was a bit straightforward, I know how you are with physical touch and all and I’m–“
“That would be great. My body is really sore just from sitting all the time,” you explain.
There’s nothing wrong about it, right?
You’re just two stressed friends that are caught up in a busy exam season trying to get through all this. Minho has offered it after all. There’s nothing more behind it. He just likes you platonically. Unfortunately. But that you are sure of. Otherwise, he would have already made a move.
“Then, turn around. Or—wait—maybe lay down on your stomach? Is that alright with you?”
You’re gonna go insane at any second. “Sure.”
You do as you’re told, shifting in your position before you roll over and lie flat on your belly. Minho hopes you don’t notice the fact that he’s staring at your ass for a bit too long but fortunately you’re already turned around and therefore can’t see him. Your face is tilted to the side, as your head is attached to your hands that are crossed and laying flat against the bed underneath you. You hope you don’t fall asleep in this very comfortable position until the weight of the mattress shifts and you feel two legs dip into it right next to you.
Your friend is sitting on top of you, his crotch almost pressed against your ass and he’s praying to all the Gods he can think of so that you don’t notice the hard on he’s starting to sport inside his pants. Minho is quite sure now that this wasn’t the smartest idea he’s had in a while but he’s thinking a bit too much with his dick whenever you are near.
He gets into a comfortable position, right before his hands land on the middle of your back.
“Are you ready, Y/N?”
You nod, “Y-Yeah. Just start whenever you feel like it.”
He begins with slow movements, trying to get to know your body as much as it’s appropriate. It’s a shame you’re still wearing clothes but he gets that you wouldn’t just go naked for him to get massaged. At least not yet. You’re not at that stage of your friendship and whatever it evolves too. But for now, Minho will take everything he can get and won’t complain in the slightest. This is heaven on earth. The outlines of your curves, the soft flesh that his fingertips are touching—separated by a few layers of fabric but who cares.
It feels so damn good to have Minho’s hands roaming all over you. It does help you a lot with your back pain but unfortunately—and you hope it won’t be noticeable anytime soon—your panties are going damp from all the arousal that is gushing into them. The way Minho leans forwards, rubbing over your ass with—what you expected to be—his growing erection makes you feel all dizzy.
Is he really getting turned on by this? Because you are, too, and if he’d slip his hands under your shirt, rip down the rest of your clothes and ask you all nicely, you’d allow him to bury his cock deep inside your hole. That you are sure of. That’s also not a new fantasy of yours, after all.
Fuck. Bring back your focus to the present. Minho is just a man and this doesn’t mean he wants you too. It’s just his body reacting to something very natural, right?
“God, I’m really stiff, huh?” you ask, laughing a little about yourself. 
Yeah and I’ll get a bit too stiff down there too if you don’t stop moaning like that, Minho thinks, rolling his eyes to the back of his head. But he keeps going. Those soothing motions continue, making you relax under his gentle touch.
“Fuck—so sorry for the sounds I make,” you grunt, a sweet little chuckle slipping right between those animalistic noises, “but it feels too damn good. You should do this professionally, Min.”
“No, I’d rather keep my skills reserved for you only,” he says, clicking his tongue.
You gulp but then his thumbs dig into the soft flesh again and you’re hit with another one of those crazy sensations that makes it impossible to focus on anything else. Another moan spills from your lips and you hear the alarm bells ringing, telling you to rather stop this.
But you do want Minho. In any way possible. However, you still have an appointment with your roommate and friend Chaeryeong which you suddenly remember, that you really shouldn’t miss.
Okay, and perhaps you’re a little bit of a coward. Although you don’t know why. Minho would make you feel so good, that you are sure of. But perhaps you aren’t ready yet to face the big question of what happens after this considering your great friendship. You know that there’s more than this coming from your side but then again you also catch yourself thinking about his roommate in the same way on a daily basis and you feel awful for playing with their emotions like this in your mind.
“Shit, okay… I feel a lot better already. Thank you so much for this,” you suddenly say and Minho’s motions come to a halt.
He can tell that you got cold feet but he won’t question it. Your friend gets up again and gives you enough space to stand back on your feet, too.
“No need to thank me, princess. Anything for you, yeah?” he says with another one of those winks because he just can’t hold back.
You get all shy, grabbing your stuff and heading towards the door. He follows you to the exit of his bedroom, before you say, “I think… I should go. I am meeting up with Chaeryeong at home in half an hour .”
“Of course. I can bring you home,” Minho says.
“It’s okay, Min. No worries,” you reply.
He gets a bit closer but your distracted brain soon grasps that he only wants to properly say goodbye to you. Minho pulls you into a hug then—a bit longer than usual which is very unusual for someone like him—while he whispers into your ear, “Text me when you’re back home and all. Thank you again for today.”
“I will. Promise. And no worries.”
You let go again and give him a last shy smile, praying he doesn’t notice how startled you are and how much heat has risen up to your head but you are sure you’re doing the worst job at hiding it.
Walking down the stairs, you almost trip all over your own feet until you make it to the entrance door of the ridiculously huge apartment.
“Y/N, you’re already going home?” Jisung says, when you walk right into his vision.
You’ve managed to get to the door, your hand almost seizing the knob but the other one of the two roommates decides to mess with your head by talking to you now too. Yes, it’s just talking. But you’re still so startled from what happened just minutes ago and the fact that Jisung changed into some tank top, showing off his muscly shoulders and arms doesn’t make it any easier for you.
“Yeah,” you tell him, giving him a small smile.
“And my roommate isn’t bringing you home?” he asks, eyebrow raised up and his head tilted.
You shake your head, “He offered it. But I have another study session with Chaeryeong, my roommate. It’s alright and not dark outside yet.”
“Okay. I wanted to ask you something if you still got a minute,” he adds.
“Sure.”
Jisung reaches inside his pants pockets with his hands, getting a bit shy now for whatever reason.
“You’re tutoring Minho in economics, right?”
“Yeah, I do,” you reply, getting a bit confused. Jisung knows exactly what his roommate and you are studying, why is he asking that now?
“Great,” he speaks again. “For whatever dumb reason I chose an economics class this semester and I am struggling. Would it be too much to ask for help from you? I think one or two hours for reminiscing will be enough but I also get if you got too much going on–“
“Oh, no. It’s fine!”
“Ah, you’re an angel. My guardian angel, if you will. I can text you later and we can discuss the details,” he proposes.
“Yeah, of course,” you say with a bright smile.
God, how he adores those. Jisung could straight away melt and turn into a puddle. That’s the issue. His teasing and talking and bad excuse of flirting sometimes isn’t just because he’d love to have you on top of him, bouncing on his dick while your nails are gripping into the flesh on his back and you’re dearly struggling not to cum for yet another time—no, it’s more than that. He absolutely adores you and likes having you in his life, although he’s not as close with you as Minho is. But he can change that and this is the first step.
“Perfect. Can I pay you somehow?”
You look at him confused, once again, “No, it’s fine! No worries about that. You’re my friend. I won’t take any money from you.”
“No, I’m gonna repay you. I promise. Get back home safe,” he tells you and you decide against arguing with him at least for now.
“Have a nice evening, Jisung.”
🌷
When you arrive at your student apartment, your roommate isn’t there yet. So, you drop down your bag and freshen up a little in the bathroom before you prepare everything for Chaeryeong and you.
Sitting down on the dining table in the little kitchen living room thingy you share, you grab out your phone and notice a message sent to you by your roommate.
[Chaereyong, 19:55]: I’ll be there in a few minutes! I’m bringing iced coffee and cake with me so please forgive me my dear!! 🫶🏻
You chuckle to yourself and quickly text her back, before you open the chat with your other study partner and newly found massage expert.
[You, 20:02]: Made it home :) Thanks for the food again!!
Is this message too much? Too little? You are still so absolutely confused and startled about what happened back then. You were dangerously close to having your good friend take the stress off your body in very different, pretty much forbidden ways. Well, don’t make it sound as if you are caught in a bad remake of Romeo and Juliet. The forbidden part is solely your inability to face your own feelings that you have for your good friend.
A reply from him awakens you from your spiral of thoughts.
[Minho, 20:05]: Thank you for helping me with studying, Y/N. Have a nice evening 🩷
You quickly answer.
[You, 20:07]: You too Min 🩷
You are fast to place your device away until you receive another message.
[Jisung, 20:08]: hey, my guardian angel 👼 do you have some time tomorrow afternoon? my exam is already next week and it’s killing me 😩
You laugh a little, both about him calling you his guardian angel and the difference in the way he texts compared to Minho.
[You, 20:09]: yeah, sure!! At 15:00?
You watch the screen until you receive two texts within a few seconds.
[Jisung, 20:10]: it’s a date then ;) looking forward to it thank you again 
[Jisung, 20:10]: *study date xd 
Well played, Jisung. Not obvious at all.
[You, 20:11]: see you tomorrow :)
The door opens and Chaeryeong enters right before you get the last message.
[Jisung, 20:11]: see u tomorrow , Y/N 😌
🌷
“So, should we just start with the basic concepts?”
You find yourself inside Jisung’s bedroom upstairs, currently helping him with the issues that are occupying his head when someone mentions the word ‘economics’. There’s a huge amount of food and snacks here, as well as your favourite drink from your favourite cafe near their apartment building—a small thank you because you are tutoring Jisung.
He’s leaning against the chair, you’re sitting right beside him but something tells you that he is focusing on anything but the studying happening in front of him.
“Yeah, sure,” he says, wrinkling his nose when he sees the numbers and letters that are becoming a total blur in front of his eyes. No, this whole study date wasn’t just some cheap ploy to get your attention but it’s a welcomed side effect. However, it’s also a great way to lose attention about what’s really important over and over again.
But there’s just something about you that makes his heart race as if he’s an astronaut, as stupid as it sounds. Whenever you look at him, talk back at one of those silly things he says, his pulse quickens up to a ridiculous speed. Jisung is caught in a dilemma whenever he comes home and finds you studying in the living room with Minho.
On one hand, each day that he gets to see you automatically turns into his favourite day of the week. But on the other hand, the fact that you spend so much time with his roommate makes him jealous.
He knows he isn’t in a position to feel that way, you’re just friends after all and you’re kinda closer to Minho as well, given that you are the same age and happen to major in the same subject. Still, he can’t fight those dumb little feelings that take over him whenever you are near.
Studying with Jisung has two perks for you. First—very simple—it helps you revise the material for your own exam, given the fact that your friend’s test paper will be about the basic stuff to which you are taking an advanced course this semester. Second—rather complicated—you can spend some time with him. In his room. Being close to him. Having an excuse to stare at him for a little too long while studying and just blame it on the fact that you want to make sure he’s understood everything based on his mimics.
Oh, Y/N, what the fuck have you gotten yourself into here?
Who on earth likes two of their friends that also happen to be roommates at the same time? It couldn’t get any more heart wrenching, could it?
Well, there is no drama yet and you won’t create any of it. Although this means you have to hold back and won’t engage with any of them despite what you really want. It was already unbearable to refrain from taking another step when Minho massaged you yesterday. You’re unsure if you will be able to withstand any of your inner desires when being in a room with Jisung for too long.
However, tutoring goes fine and your friend seems to understand what you’re trying to explain to him. You get a lot of exercises done, repeating all the terminology he needs to know and after two hours, he tells you that this will be enough for today and you agree.
“Do you have any more questions?” you ask, bringing your eyes back to one of the papers in front of you.
“Hmm, are you and Minho dating?”
Okay, screw that. You’re seriously not sure how your heart is gonna survive this. Is he perhaps jealous? Nah, you doubt that. This is just typical Jisung behaviour, searching for anything to tease you.
“I was referring to the topics of your exam…” you say, hastily blinking, and trying to not entirely lose your mind. He’s just messing with you. That’s all.
“And I was referring to my roommate and you. I heard cute little moans coming from his room the other day when you were over,” Jisung adds, clicking his tongue.
That–
Okay, calm down, Y/N. Calm down.
“That was… we didn’t–“
“Yeah, I’m sure you didn’t,” he says with a wink. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m fine with sharing, you know?”
You look at him dumbfounded. Are you still so sure he’s just teasing you?
“Sharing?”
“You know what I’m talking about. Don’t make me beg you to give me your TMI, Y/N,” Jisung whispers with a pout.
The room suddenly feels one hundred degrees hotter and tinier, as if supernatural forces are pushing you closer to him but in reality neither Jisung nor you have moved even a centimetre.
But you can’t go down that road. Although you want to. You want both of them and you know this isn’t gonna be easy. Which is why you need to stop all this before it even starts.
Right.
“I… yeah, I know what you mean… but we can’t. We’re friends, Jisung. I value that a lot.”
Or perhaps you’re just a coward. And a lot scared to mess things up because you might lose both of them. God, why do you always need to overthink everything to this extent?
“Yeah, me too. But this doesn’t have to hold us back from following what we both truly crave,” Jisung says, his voice dropping lower by an octave.
You gulp, “What do we crave?”
You know exactly what he means. You’re just playing dumb now to give your head, heart and that arousal erupting in your lower stomach some break. Focus, Y/N. Focus.
“Well, I can only speak for myself but I love the way you look at me whenever I tease you. Or whenever my hand subtly grazes over your body like this,” Jisung brings his fingertips to your thigh, wandering over your pants but stopping right before something happens that you both might regret—despite the animalistic urge inside you, “I dream a bit too often about what it would be like to have you in my lap, you staring right down at me, grinding over me and—fuck, since when am I so confident talking about this?”
Jisung suddenly pulls his hand away when he remembers where he is and with who and what he just spoke out loud. You’re gonna think he’s a total perv now.
But all you do is chuckle and say, “I don’t know, I’m surprised too. But I like it, Ji.”
You like it.
You like it.
Then where’s the issue?
“So, what’s holding you back?”
“It's… well…” you can’t really find the words.
“Everything’s okay. I’m not making you choose. There’s no pressure ever, yeah? If this makes you uncomfortable, just forget that this conversation has ever happened.”
He slows down a bit. Stressing you out is the last thing he wants. You’re friends after all and your well being is what comes first here.
“Okay… I feel so bad about it but…”
He sighs, “It’s about Minho, isn’t it?”
“Y-Yeah.”
Surprise.
Of course his older friend and roommate is what’s letting those second guesses appear in your head. He should have known and secretly he has.
“It’s fine, I get it,” Jisung says, nodding.
“I just need some time to think,” you admit.
“It’s alright, really,” he repeats.
You give him a smile and stand up, taking a quick glimpse at your phone and the clock on the screen that reads five in the afternoon. Fuck. You almost forgot that you still have to pick up a package from the post office. Caught in your exam stress, you spend a little too much money on useless stuff the other night when you were shopping online out of frustration. But it’s okay. You can always send it back.
“Thank you again for everything, Y/N. I’ll see you again tomorrow?”
Right. Tomorrow. Same place. Same time. And after that another study session with Minho.
“Of course! See you tomorrow,” you say, as Jisung pulls you into a quick hug that lasts a little longer than usual before you leave his room and walk down the stairs.
You’ve managed to get to the door, your hand almost seizing the knob but the other one of the two roommates decides to mess with your head by intercepting you. Minho is suddenly standing there, looking at you with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He’s wearing a tank top just like Jisung did yesterday and for a second you wonder if they planned this.
“Oh, hey, Min! I didn’t know you were here,” you shyly greet him as you awkwardly wave.
“Ditto. Have I missed something?”
His head is tilted, as he looks right at you.
You shake your head no, “Oh, no. I just helped Jisung a little with his upcoming exam, that’s all.”
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow evening for another study session?”
“Of course!”
And faster than he’s able to add anything, you’re already rushing out that front door.
🌷
Only when you make it back home, your heart drops down its pace enough for you to take in your surroundings and all the noises a student apartment building offers.
What the hell was that?
Oh, right. Your stupid heart. Making everything worse than it already is.
You’re caught in a real dilemma although you are sure by now that you’re the one who is complicating things by a thousand levels. Unfortunately, not one of the character traits you are proud of.
Chaeryeong isn’t back yet, probably still at work but you know that you can’t just sit here now after that steamy study flirting session with Jisung and running right into Minho on your way out after that massage yesterday. You’re wondering if they are aware of the fact you find them both attractive. Hell, they probably know. You don’t quite do a good job at hiding it and everything makes you feel as if they might reciprocate those complicated feelings you have for them.
Fuck. What should you do?
One thing is sure—you can’t stay here and wait for your roommate. Of course, Chaeryeong is the best friend you can have but on top of all the stress she’s going through right now you don’t want to add on to this. Some introverted time will do. Get out. Do something to distract you. Right.
You change into different clothes and grab a thicker jacket, before you reach for your bag again, leave the apartment and lock the door.
In order to deal with this situation you are left with a few options that feel right to you.
First, you could go to the library, perhaps wait a few hours there for Chaeryeong and get more studying done or simply read a book or watch Netflix. This has always helped to distract you.
Another idea would be to take a walk in the park since it’s still sunny and warm outside and perhaps get some drink like a coffee or a matcha latte on your way, just letting your thoughts free and coming up with a solution.
However, you could also head back to Minho’s and Jisung’s apartment now instead of tomorrow and discuss things. But then again, you’re not quite sure if you’re bold enough for that and if it’ll lead you anywhere.
Fuck, this is more complicated than it should be. But it’s time to make a decision. Will you go to the library to distract yourself, take a walk in the park or visit Minho’s and Jisung’s apartment?
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© j-One25 2024 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited
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bogleech · 3 months
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Mortasheen: The Tabletop RPG slowly releasing as of right now
If you backed the Mortasheen kickstarter 3 years ago, check your emails, because I just put up version 0.1 of the first initial digital-only edition; it contains the entire gameplay system by Morgan Mullins, pages and pages of monster abilities, dozens of setting locations including NPC characters and even some non-monster (but still not normal) wildlife, plus over 100 monsters with playable stats. If you aren't a kickstarter backer you'll have to wait until later this year for the general public release. First there will be a free update of this digital version adding several more monsters, one additional chapter of various other tweaks, then work can begin on the final public version for both digital and physical.
I spent about 15 years of my life waiting to be able to put this out. It outlasted my 20's and now outlasted my 30's. For 99% of that development I was left out of the loop on what was even happening with it while I hoped it would come out any year now to maybe possibly make me a little bit of money while being poor the entire time. I almost feel like it kind of took half my life away?
In the time this RPG has been in development, the entire "Adventure Time" franchise debuted as a Nickelodeon short, got picked up as a Cartoon Network series, redefined the animation industry, revealed several plot points coincidentally almost identical to many major reveals of the Mortasheen setting, ended, and has now returned as a spinoff.
I can't wait til I can show it to everybody else but for now it's for all those backers who waited two years longer than the time frame I expected. Here's some of my more recent artwork for it without any context:
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I wish I was making this post on some kind of actually special day or something and not just a random friday in january but I basically uploaded a passable book the very moment I had a passable book.
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starrysimsie · 3 months
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Hey everyone! Unfortunately 2023 had to get in one last kick by making me unwell right at the end. But I'm starting to feel better and so today I'm bringing you the other post as well as this one!
This pack is for two sims and is a remake of Chapter 75 of "My Reason To Die" which is a webtoon series! It contains 7 poses for each sim.
For this pack you will need the hair dryer from this post.
I also recommend the rest of the objects from Platinum Sims 3d's collection to make your scene look more realistic - it can all be found here.
Some clipping will occur.
I hope you enjoy!  
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You will need:
Pose Mod & Teleporter X
Hair Dryer X
TOU:
Do not reupload my content.
You may modify these poses.  
Do not claim my content as your own.
Do not upload to S!msdom/S!msfinds
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Download here (Patreon, 01/19)
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To the people who look up at the stars and wish.
@maxismatchccworld  @softpinefinds @ts4-poses
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rynwritesreid · 4 months
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Mind Games~masterlist
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Introduction/Synopsis
request~ “A series where reader works at bau and she's as smart if not smarter then Reid and somehow you pick they end up in a relationship with dom Spencer”
This series will start in January (2024)
I will post every other week
It’s going to be a mini series, with no more than 8 chapters
Within the confines of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, where brilliance was the norm, a new force emerged. Reader, a prodigious mind, outshone even the revered Dr. Spencer Reid.
Spencer, accustomed to being the epitome of genius, felt an unfamiliar sting as Reader effortlessly surpassed his intellectual prowess. Resentment festered, fuelled by an unspoken challenge.
Yet, beneath the surface, an undeniable attraction simmered, a paradox of disdain and desire.
As cases unfolded, the lines between competition and connection blurred. Spencer found himself drawn to Reader, his resentment morphing into a complex dance of intrigue. In the enigmatic realm of profiling, where emotions were dissected as ruthlessly as evidence, a silent understanding blossomed.
Chapter one~Genius 2.O
Chapter two- Could have been me
Chapter three- Nothing's new 30/01/24
Chapter four- Yes, I'm changing 13/02/24
Chapter five- Loverboy 27/02/24
Chapter six- Just like heaven 12/03/24
Chapter seven- To the end 26/03/24
~this will contain angst, fluff and smut~
Join mind games taglist
Main masterlist
Main taglist
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catpriciousmarjara · 5 months
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Okay so there's this dp x dc tumblr post about the JL finding the Ghost King's family tree or something and lots of misunderstandings happening but I can't find it anymore and would be grateful if someone would send it to me... Anyhow I was inspired by it and this is the result!
Also on ao3 if you wanna check it out there!
The Family Tree
"So you're telling me this is just a family tree?", Green Lantern asked with a frown on his face.
Bruce could see Constantine's eyes twitching at that question. As always, leave it to Hal Jordan to annoy people.
"This isn't just anything", the sorcerer said with narrowed eyes. "It's a Class-X magical artifact. If this thing is used as a focus for a ritual, the magnitude of magical energy would rise by at least 80 factors. For those of you non-magical or unfamiliar with magic, that's fucking huge."
Beside him Zatanna nodded, her gaze still fixed on the ancient manuscript. She hadn't taken her eyes off the scroll for more than a minute since she got to the Watch Tower and first saw it spread out on the containment room table. Constantine was the same. Captain Marvel was not present, working along with Superman, Hawkgirl, and Aquaman on a case, but his reactions have always been dissimilar from his magical colleagues, so his case might be anywhere between staying the hell away from it to trying to inhale it.
It was clear to Bruce that Zatanna coveted it, but was sensible and cautious enough to stay away from it. Constantine had no sense so he was a tossup. From where he was standing between Wonder Woman and Martian Manhunter, the Gotham vigilante resolved to keep an eye on the two magicians. They most likely won't try to steal the artifact, considering the heavy dose of 'not messing with that thing' overshadowing the desire to possess it, but the scroll itself might be enchanted to encourage covetous feelings on those nearby. It wouldn't be the first time. Better safe than sorry.
It was Diana that stepped up towards the two JL Dark members to seek more clarification. As both a Demigod and as someone familiar with magic, she was usually the one taking point on such issues.
She gestured to the scroll innocently sitting inside the runic circle the two mages had constructed around it. "You have told us that the artifact is not destructive, that it is merely a record, and that the information it contains is not a spell, or a runic arrangement, or a magic circle. You have also told us that the strange energy readings coming from it are mostly due to the material it's made out of than any catastrophic sorcery enchanted into it. You have at last decoded it as a record of a family tree. Yet it is dangerous, a Class-X relic as you've said. Given all this information, I suppose the correct question to ask here is this: why is a family tree capable of raising magical energy output by 80 factors?"
The two magicians looked at each other. Zatanna finally pried her eyes away from the scroll and faced the room.
"Magic is a force that simultaneously has laws but at the same time adheres to none. It's confusing to explain but for the time being just keep that in mind."
She walked to the center of the room, followed by Constantine, visibly trying to collect her words. Bruce prepared himself for a complicated explanation and activated another one of the batsuit's recorders. He felt the urge to sigh, for a supposed unchained force, Magic was needlessly complex at times, and practically incomprehensible to non-magicals.
At the front, Zatanna took a deep breath and began.
"As you know there are multiple dimensions. But magical dimensions come under a different category. Depending on the overall magical potential of a particular magical dimension, we call it the World State Stable Thaumaturgical Output Capacity, we can classify these dimensions in grades and levels, as either higher or lower, with relation to each other. These levels are dependent on a multitude of variables like space, time, gravity, Events, Proximity, etc and as such are non-linear, and unfixed. That's the first thing."
Bruce could practically see the capitals on the last two. Looks like they would need to hold another meeting to clarify a lot of these concepts. Seeing the dawning of lost expressions on some of the members however, Bruce mentally amended that to many future meetings.
Zatanna continued. "Magical objects from higher dimensions become stronger in lower ones. The inverse is also true. This is all in relation to the Overture and the same polarity orientation of course but we don't need to get into that now-"
On the contrary Bruce thought they really needed more explanation on all of that.
"-In simple terms, a child's toy from a higher dimension could become the focus for an apocalyptic ritual in a much lower dimension, while an apocalyptic artifact from a lower dimension might as well be paperweight in a sufficiently higher one. There are ways around it, but if those methods are not implemented, then this is how it generally goes. The larger the level difference, the higher the power."
Now that wasn't concerning at all. Bruce really needed to update his contingency plans regarding magic.
Constantine continued from where Zatanna left off, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here.
"The second thing is that when it comes to magic, things that are indefinable or unquantifiable become definable and quantifiable. Stuff like love, hate, happiness, despair, fate, necessity, authority? All measurable. Not always needed of course, But definitely possible and frequently used in a variety of magical fields."
The sorcerer leaned against a nearby chair. "One such thing is Significance. The magic contained in true names for instance is mostly based on significance. A true name is significant to you, its a doorway to your soul, and therefore it holds power. Significance is also what we call a positive, additive factor in magic. In the absence of interfering variables, significance as a quantity is directly proportional to magical output. In other words-"
"-the more significant an object or an event, the higher the magical energy output, and consequently higher the magical power", J'onn finished. He looked towards the scroll. "The information recorded on it, the family tree as you've said, valuable in significance, most likely in terms of whose family it's a record of. In addition, the artifact is from a higher dimension with relation to ours, and that has a cumulative effect."
"Yeah exactly", said Constantine with a raised eyebrow. "Which means that if that hypothetical toy Zatanna mentioned? If that happened to be important enough, like a first toy, or a cherished gift or something like that, its significance increases, its potential increases, and in the right hands, or in the wrong hands really, that potential could be harnessed at a lower level."
There was a bout of thoughtful silence as they absorbed all of the information.
But Bruce felt as if he had been quiet enough and took the chance to ask a question of his own. "You mentioned something called the Overture, and polarity orientation. What do they mean?"
Constantine just sighed. "For fuck's sake Batsy those things aren't really important to the discussion..."
Bruce just stared.
..."Fine", the mage said in defeat. "There are many names for it, the Overture, Exordium, Legerdomain, Nascence...but the most accepted two are the Beforebirth, and the Womb. It's not a something as much as it's a someplace, but then again it's not really a place either. Simply put it's the birthplace of Magic, where it all began and all that. It can't be accessed without the Key and that's been lost for a long time. It's actually a mission for many magicals to find it you know? A holy quest for a lot of them. Some of them are straight up crazy though."
Bruce field that information safely away. Figure out a plan to combat fanatic magicians trying to find the birthplace of magic for sinister reasons. "And polarity?"
"Well", Zatanna began, "its how magic is classified according to the nature of...magic? Or rather the essence? It's hard to put in mundane terms...Anyhow broadly speaking there are two main polarities, the Obverse, and the Reverse."
For a moment, she struggled with the explanation before brightening, seemingly having found an idea.
"Picture a number line, but like on the y-axis! Zero is the Overture, Obverse dimensions are the positive number side, and Reverse dimensions are the negative numbers! The higher up the obverse dimension, the larger its magical output! Similarly, the lower down the reverse dimension, the higher its magical output."
Bruce had hardly parsed through that when their resident speedster spoke up.
"Guys", the red clad hero said, "I feel like we missed the obvious follow up question after Ollie over here...like I feel like this is important, but where exactly is the scroll from?"
As one everyone turned towards the artifact.
Constantine grimaced and Zatanna winced. They looked at each other as if asking who wanted to bite the bullet. Finally it looked as if Constantine lost. The sorcerer cursed under his breath.
"Well which dimension is the scroll from?", asked Wonder Woman.
Constantine took what looked like a fortifying breath.
"It's from the Infinite Realms."
Silence.
"What?", the Green Lantern asked intelligently.
"It's from the Infinite Realms. As in Infinite. As in end of the figurative fucking line, number line whatever!"
Everyone stared at the magicians as understanding slowly dawned.
There was what was essentially a magical nuke in the Watch Tower.
"Now", began Martian Manhunter, "this is unfortunate".
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