#the phone is ringing off the hook

[1loer]

HI HELLO!! How are you doing?

Can you please share some snippets of that fic you mentioned you were writing but abandoned it? (If you want of course no pressure!) I'm so interested :D

well, since u asked so nicely.

((warnings for references to self-harm, homophobia, child neglect, and descriptions of blood and violence))

Its about 12k words in length and very choppy because i just grabbed together whatever pieces were 1) done 2) i felt were needed to get some sort of "story" here.

this is quite old now so its not the best written and im not sure how i feel about it overall but i hope u get something from it anyway :')

Nagito Komaeda wasn’t normal. He knew this much but couldn’t understand why. 

He knew because Komaeda liked to watch people. No one really bothered to talk with him much, so it was all he could do. This was one of the reasons he knew he wasn’t normal. Other people talked to other people, and it didn’t seem like it was a very big deal at all. People didn’t talk to him, and people very much did not smile at him when they talked, and if they did, it would definitely be a very big deal to him. Normal people had people around them. Some had only a few, others had loads. Komaeda had none. 

Not that he minded. It was to be expected. No one wanted to be around someone who wasn’t normal. It wasn’t like it was only these things that made him different. He figured the list of ‘whys’ probably didn’t have an end and grew a little longer every day. 

Plus, he supposed he was lucky in this way. He’d seen what the other option looked like. He’d much rather be ignored completely than gain negative attention. 

He thinks. 

Then again-

The bell rang, and the thought cut off. The others in his class who had been talking with their friends moved back to their seats as his homeroom teacher, Mr. Yoshida, walked to the front. The class representative called for them to bow, they did, then took their seats.

“Before I take attendance, I want to introduce a new student into our class.” 

Komaeda raised his eyebrows. He didn’t think he’d ever been in a class that had had a new student transfer like this before. He sat forward a little in his seat. This was an amazing precedent for hope. His palms sweat a little where they gripped his seat. 

The door to the classroom slid open, and a boy walked in. The first thing Komaeda noticed about him was that he was tall. He figured that was probably what everyone else noticed too. The two girls who sat in front of him shared a look, then stifled their giggles. 

“Introduce yourself to the class.” 

The boy bowed, raised his head and smiled. 

Komaeda’s eyes widened. 

“I’m Hiroto Ishikawa. I hope we can be friends.” 

A rush. Small, but strong enough you couldn’t ignore it, more like a tickle or a shiver, one that started right at the base of your skull and spread down to the tips of your fingers; made you curl your toes. Like that primal instinct humans never managed to extinguish when you know someone is staring at you. You turn your head to stare back before the thought has even processed. 

Hope. Ishikawa was brimming with it. 

This was something else that Komaeda knew made him not normal. 

He wasn’t sure why, but he’d always been able to sense it. Hope and despair. The feelings were different, yet still so powerful, and Komaeda seemed to have senses finely tuned to differentiate between both. Special people, people with talent, they were filled with hope. It seemed so obvious to Komaeda, it made him wonder why no one else could sense it if it was so easy for someone as useless as himself. 

Someone with talent. Someone blessed with hope in its purest form, and they were in his class. Komaeda swallowed thickly and gripped his hands into fists in his lap. What an amazing turn of events. 

How much more amazing then, that Ishikawa was assigned to sit next to him. 

Sometimes Komaeda seriously couldn’t believe his own luck. 

He’d never had much interest in the rest of his classmates. So, them not particularly having an interest in him either didn’t matter to him. They were all the same. All of them were destined for nothing. The best any of them could hope for was to at least become something that could assist Ultimates in their goals and bolster their hope. The difference between him and the rest of his classmates, however, seemed to be that Komaeda was the only one who understood this.  

But Ishikawa was special. Komaeda desperately wanted to get to know him. 

— ((Ishikawa treats Komaeda like he's a normal person, and extends basic human kindess towards him (greeting him every morning, doing small talk). Komaeda's obsession with him only gets worse))

Talking to Ishikawa was easy, because Komaeda didn’t have to do much talking at all. Ishikawa just told him everything about volleyball, explained the rules, talked about the Olympic team’s strategies and his opinions on them. Komaeda didn’t understand any of it. He hadn’t even seen a volleyball game before. 

Komaeda revealed this fact to Ishikawa, only realising how embarrassing it was to admit once it was already out of his mouth. 

But that didn’t stop someone like Ishikawa. 

“Man, you’re missing out! How the hell have you never seen a volleyball game before?! That’s insane.” Before the disappointment could set in Komaeda’s chest, Ishikawa shook his head, “I can’t let you go on like this. You’ll just have to come to the try-outs tomorrow and watch me play.” 

Komaeda’s breath left him. 

“W-What?” 

Ishikawa shrugged, “Well, if it’s going to be your first game, I want to make sure you’re watching someone who actually knows what they’re doing.” He finished with a wink, and a smirk, and Komaeda laughed much too loudly. He smacked a hand over his face and turned away, swallowing down the nervous spit that had gathered in his mouth. 

This was unbelievable. This was- 

Amazing. 

“I’d be more than honoured to see your hope shine at such a pivotal moment! I-I’m so happy you’d even think to invite me-” 

Ishikawa’s face morphed, a quick twitch of his lip, and it shot anxiety through Komaeda that made him cut off his words. 

He swallowed and took a deep breath, corrected his smile, and said, “I’ll definitely be there. I’ll definitely watch you play, Ishikawa.” 

“...Good. I’m glad.” Ishikawa answered with a smile, but somehow it still felt wrong. 

Komaeda did his best to understand the rules of volleyball before the game. The setter, the position Ishikawa played, seemed to be the most pivotal role in the whole system from what Komaeda could understand. They controlled the ball, set it up for the spiker, who scored the points. A role that perfectly suited someone as reliable and strong as Ishikawa. It wasn’t the flashiest, but it was the role that set up the rest of the team for success. It was something that Komaeda could sort of relate to.  

Not that Ishikawa was anything like Komaeda, on any level at all.

…But it was nice to think that maybe, like this, they were similar. All Komaeda wanted was to be useful like that, to be the reason someone else could shine. Maybe Ishikawa also understood that. The thought made him blush. 

He stood quietly in the stalls, watching amongst the girls who had also come to support Ishikawa. Of course, Ishikawa had become very popular ever since he transferred, so his fan club was quite sizable already. Pretty girls with bright eyes watched raptly and squealed and yelled his name when he made a good play, which was pretty often. Komaeda stayed back, not wanting to get in their way. Despite not knowing any of the team members Ishikawa moulded to their needs in record time. Even someone as stupid as Komaeda, who knew nothing about the sport, could understand how well he was doing. 

One of the players, one Komaeda was sure would be selected alongside Ishikawa for the team, delivered another earth-shattering slice that cut through the opposite team’s wall of defences, set up perfectly by Ishikawa. The whistle blew to announce Ishikawa’s team’s victory for game, 25 to 20. 

The girls screamed in joy as the team celebrated, and Komaeda clapped along in the background. He was ecstatic, but it was no surprise. Komaeda was sure that any team Ishikawa was on would win. 

The girl in the centre of all the others, with long legs and even longer hair, leaned against the railing and called for Ishikawa. Komaeda had been watching her more closely lately. She was also in his class. She was smart, her grades beating his easily, but even that was saying something because Komaeda tended to rank pretty highly, all things considered. She was always around Ishikawa. Ishikawa seemed to like the attention she gave him too. Komaeda figured that if Ishikawa was going to choose any of them to go out with, it’d be her. 

Which was fine. 

Ishikawa could totally do better than some hopeless, meaningless civilian like her, but who was Komaeda to judge? He was nothing better. If anything, he may have been worse. He wasn’t even a girl. Ishikawa definitely wouldn’t be so perverted. 

At least she was pretty. Ishikawa probably wanted to date someone pretty and popular like her. 

…What a strange train of thought. Even stranger was the lump that formed from nothing in his throat after it. 

Komaeda waited for him outside the gym after that. Part of him felt silly for it. It’s not like Ishikawa would want to see him, and he certainly hadn’t asked, but still he waited. He just wanted to see Ishikawa. Maybe, if he was really lucky, they’d walk home together again. 

Eventually, Ishikawa emerged. Surrounded by his peers and smiling brightly, the evening sun wrapped around him in golden ribbons, he looked to Komaeda the picture of a hero from a story book. The light his hope produced made even the worthless people leeching on him look picturesque. 

Komaeda watched them from the shadows and wondered what the hell he was even doing.  

But still he didn’t move, enraptured by the hope shining out of Ishikawa without him even trying. What he’d give for one more glance, one more smile thrown his way. It was too much to ask for, but even so he couldn’t help but yearn for it. 

“A-Amazing performance, Ishikawa!” Komaeda choked out as he approached him. The rest of the group stopped and turned to look at him, but Komaeda hardly paid them any mind. 

Ishikawa looked at the rest of the group, and they shared a look that Komaeda didn’t fully understand. But then Ishikawa turned back to him, and the rest of the group dispersed, 

“Did you expect anything less?” Ishikawa replied with a smirk, and Komaeda’s smile stretched wild. 

“Of course not, but even so, seeing it up close and personal was something entirely different!” 

“Psh, of course! I told you as much, didn’t I?” Ishikawa smirked handsomely, and Komaeda found it hard to swallow. With a chaste punch on his shoulder, more a tap than anything else, Ishikawa said, “I’m glad I got to be your first.” 

He didn’t mean it like that. There's no way he meant anything even close to where Komaeda’s brain went but- 

Ishikawa winked, and Komaeda burst into loud embarrassed laughter, his face steaming from the intensity of the blush he was sporting. This was- Oh this was just the worst. This was the absolute worst thing ever he was so stupid- 

The girl, the one with the long hair that liked Ishikawa, was suddenly calling for him from the door to the school. With that, Ishikawa was leaving, waving at Komaeda over his shoulder, and Komaeda was left alone, stiff and warm and waving jankily as he walked away. 

Once he was out of sight, Komaeda ran until he reached the bathrooms, entered a stall, slammed the door, shakily locked it, and collapsed to the floor. 

How humiliating. 

He clawed his hands into his face, scorning the heat that still emitted from it. 

But it wasn’t enough. Even as his nails clawed down his face it didn’t disrupt the events repeating on loop in his head. Komaeda felt himself burn up, Ishikawa’s words and his responses rushing and crawling like fire ants biting through the folds of his brain.

The burning increased as the walls of the cubical closed in on him. He hoped they did. He hoped they crushed him. No, something worse than that- It needed to be bad. A death so horrific that whenever anyone thought of him that’s all they’d remember, so every other torturous moment of his life would be entirely erased in its wake. 

He dug his nails into his flesh, until it hurt, then harder still, until the pain didn’t register anymore, until it was almost soothing. 

“I’m glad I got to be your first.” 

He needed these thoughts to stop. He was being eaten alive. Fire ants in his brain, in his skin, in his lungs, in his throat-

The stall door closed gently behind him. He dusted off his trousers and washed his hands. Only when he was at the sink did it occur to him that there very well could have been someone else in the toilets that heard all that. Looking now, there was no one around. It was after-school hours, but clubs were still running. He was lucky no one had walked in on him. He double checked in the mirror. There was some evidence, but none that couldn’t be shrugged off. He’d probably regret all this later. But that was for later.

He walked home in a haze. He didn’t even remember taking the train.

– ((Komaeda becomes really sick, but manages to make it to the finals of a volleyball tournement match Ishikawa is playing in))

They won, the final scoreboard reading 21-19. 

The entire team was ecstatic. The stadium boomed with an uproarious cheer at their success. Komaeda felt it on his skin like a rash, all goosebumps and raised hairs and static on top of static. It enveloped him, to the point he almost felt like he was floating, like the win was somehow his own. 

Hope. An unprecedented amount. 

Komaeda knew it’d be good. That's why he had to be here; why he dragged himself despite the nausea and the pain and the exhaustion. His head felt full of air, static on static on static like the most all-encompassing pins and needles. Komaeda couldn’t get enough breath in his chest; it all went to his head. He gripped tight at the bar of the rafters, eyes wide as he watched Ishikawa’s team celebrate. But, the other side of the net, the other end of the spectrum. The losing team, their dreams crushed, third years who would never see their team through to nationals before high school, crowded as well, joined not in hope, but despair. Both sides of such a tumultuous spectrum, painted here in front of him in bright and dazzling colours. A clear presentation of how despair must fall for hope to raise those who deserve it up higher. As always, as it always and reliably did, hope conquered despair, and those deserving basked in the glory of the aftermath and it was amazing, spectacular, he absolutely couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. To think he almost missed all of this- 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

His head snapped to the side. 

Ah, had he said all that out loud? 

That girl, the one with the long hair, and her friend, the one who wore too much makeup and too many accessories, were standing next to him giving him strange and mildly frightened looks, 

“Um…Are you, like, okay?” The girl’s friend asked, “You look, like, paler and sweatier than usual.” 

“It’s not anything that should concern someone like you.” Komaeda mumbled, but right now, even that much was a struggle. 

“Oi.” The main girl’s voice went lower, quiet yet threatening, “She was just being kind. Don’t think you can just ignore her so coldly.” 

“I don’t need kindness from the likes of you.” 

“What, you think you’re better than us or somethin’?” The girl’s friend interjected. The girl held out an arm, and Komaeda thought that it was the only thing keeping her from jumping him. 

“Oh, please, don’t be mistaken. You’re absolutely no better or worse than I am.” 

“Hey-” she growled but cut herself off when she was interrupted by Ishikawa calling from below. 

Komaeda turned, he wanted to know what Ishikawa would say, but he might’ve turned a bit too quickly, because his world went fuzzy, stars popping and exploding in his vision, and he had to steady himself once more to stop from almost passing out. 

Or that was the plan. Despite what his intentions were, his hand slipped, missed the barrier, and before he’d even hit the floor, everything went dark. 

-

Rocks under his feet skidded across the concrete. He scrambled, corrected his stance, and continued onwards. The small slip did nothing to slow down his excited pace as he ran up the winding tree lined path of his driveway towards his house. He did have to slow down, though, when he got to the steps of his front porch. The dark wood steps were a bit too tall for his small legs. He put utmost concentration into climbing them, both feet on each solid step before moving to the next. Eventually, he made it. He reached up, opened the door, and pushed into his house. 

“Mum! Mum! I’m home!” 

He shrugged off his backpack, almost falling backwards with the weight of it. He pushed the heavy door shut behind him, before gently placing the paper in his hands on the floor and taking off his shoes. His tongue peaked out a little as he struggled out of them, a task made harder as he didn’t take the time to undo them properly. He picked up the paper, and started running again-

Only he forgot how slippery his floors were, and his socks made his feet fly from under him and he crashed into the floor headfirst. 

He flopped onto his side groaning, his hands pushing into his head as tears pricked the corner of his eyes. That really hurt, and the stars in his eyes were scary and the feeling was scary too. He sniffled, corrected the black cap on his head, and stood up shakily. Despite his fall, he hadn’t dropped the paper in his hands and, luckily, it hadn’t ripped either. Komaeda shook away the tears and continued on his quest. 

“Mum?” 

His call echoed across the wide, white, empty halls of his big, big house. He peeked his head into the kitchen. Nothing. Living room provided the same, as did the guest room. He pushed open the heavy doors of their library but stopped short. No music. If mum was in the library, she’d be playing violin, or she’d be listening to her records. She wasn’t in here either. Weird. 

He let the door swing closed behind him and ran back down the hallway to continue his search upstairs, careful this time not to slip on the shiny tiles on the floor. He flinched a little at the sound of the library door slamming shut. He always got told off for doing that. It wasn’t his fault the doors were so heavy. Who cared about a little loud noise anyway? It was so stupid. 

But no one was around to tell him off this time. So, he forgot about it quickly. 

He traversed up the stairs, one hand gripping his paper, the other holding onto the railings curving up their side, switching between each curling black iron bar the higher he climbed.

He reached the landing and instantly made his way down the long corridor to his parent’s room, the taps of his feet rendered silent as their sounds were swallowed by the thick carpet stretched across the floor. He hesitated in the doorway for a little. He wasn’t really allowed in here, but this was really important. He knew it’d make his mum happy, his teachers had even said so. He needed to show her right now. 

It was only when he walked into the room and saw the heavy curtains drawn and the lights off that he realised how quiet the house was. He slowed to a stop at the end of his parent’s massive bed, his feet sinking into the plush rug on the floor. 

A weird feeling dropped in his tummy. His shoulders and back felt shivery. This was…not good. It was never good when mum was in bed like this. He definitely shouldn’t be in here. He was definitely being naughty right now. But he really needed to show this to mum. He’d told his teachers he would. He was so excited to show her. 

They’d had an art class today, and they’d been told to draw a picture of their best day ever. Komaeda hadn’t been able to think of things as exciting as his classmates did, so he just drew what was truthful. A picture of him, his mum, and dad, all together at the park. They hadn’t done that in ages. Komaeda really wished they could, though. His teacher had been really happy with it, and she showed it to the rest of the class and everything. So, he needed to show his mum, because his teacher said it’d make her happy. Mum wasn’t happy often. Komaeda wanted really badly to be the reason she was happy today. 

But now, Komaeda wasn’t so sure of himself. 

Maybe, if he showed her, it’d make her feel better, and she’d get out of bed and open the curtains, and then he could read to her too. Maybe this time, it’d be different. 

“Mum?” he whispered. He was too scared to be louder than that. Mum didn’t like it when he was loud, especially when she was like this.

There was no response from the lump on the bed. Komaeda’s hands gripped tighter onto the paper in his hands. He crept closer, 

“Mum?” 

“What?” 

He was startled a little at the sudden, sharp response. Even though this was what he’d wanted, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was doing something wrong. 

“I got something to show you.” he mumbled, and did his best to ignore the squirming, bad feeling in his stomach. 

For a long time, she was quiet. The longer she was quiet, the tighter his chest felt. Though it probably didn’t help that he was hardly breathing. He didn’t want to make more sound than really necessary in case it made mum shout. Right before Komaeda tried again, he heard her mumble something. He took a step forwards, 

“What?” She didn’t respond. He leaned onto the bed, “What did you say-” 

“This is all your fault.” Komaeda froze, fear shooting through him, icy and sharp right down his spine, freezing him in place. The less movement he made, the less noticeable he was, maybe then he’d be safe. 

It was for nothing. She turned around, sat up in bed, glaring down at him. He’d never seen mum look like that before. He wished he never had, “If you hadn’t ripped out my soul when you were born- Now they’re after me.” She gripped her hands into her flaxen hair, usually soft and tidy, now it was rough and messy, her fingers pulling through it messing it up further. Komaeda felt his bottom lip quiver, “They’re going to kill me and it’s all your fault.” 

He trembled, wanting desperately to leave, hating the way his chest rose as he breathed because he never wanted to make another movement ever again in his life, “I-I’m sorry-” 

“Nagito! What are you doing in here?!” 

His dad’s voice was so loud, it shot a new spear of fear through him, he trembled, despite how bad he just wanted to freeze just stay still just don’t move- 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry-” 

Dad was picking him up, and he was rushed out of the room and dropped again in the hallway. He tasted salt. He hadn’t even realised he’d been crying. Now he had realised, he couldn’t get himself to stop. 

“Damn it kid!” His dad ran a frustrated hand through his dark hair, then was bending down to his level. He gripped him by the shoulders, “No, look- shh! No, it’s okay, don’t cry-” Komaeda sobbed and hiccupped. He couldn’t breathe properly. He was crying so hard his chest hurt. His dad shook him a little, voice panicked and that just made him even more scared. “Come on kid. Stop it. Stop it!” Komaeda wanted to listen, he wanted to stop, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know why he couldn’t stop. It made him cry harder. He wanted his mum- his mum was scary; he didn’t want to be with her- he wanted a hug- he wanted to be as far away from everything as possible- he wanted someone to take him away- he wanted to never be seen again- “I don’t need this right now.” 

Komaeda’s stomach went funny, and his chest went tighter. His dad was angry now too. All because of him.

“I-I didn’t want to k-kill mum-” Komaeda managed between sobs. 

“What? No one’s killing your mum.” 

“I don’t want mum to die-” 

“What are you talking about?! Look- Fuck! Just stop crying!” His dad’s voice was so loud, it shocked the tears out of him. He hiccuped another breath, eyes wide, still spilling tears. As soon as he stopped, his dad smiled at him, that jokey tone in his voice that usually made Komaeda laugh. He didn’t feel like laughing right now though. “Come on, where’s that smile? You know I love that smile. Show me!” 

Komaeda didn’t want to smile, but maybe if he did, his dad wouldn’t be so angry anymore, and maybe this could all stop and they could go back to normal again. He wiped his eyes, and rubbed the wet backs of his hands on his stiff uniform shirt then shakily forced himself to smile. Then, his dad smiled back, and it felt a little bit worth it. At least he wasn’t bothering him as well now. 

“Atta boy. Just keep smiling, kid. A strapping young man like you can’t cry like a little baby.”

He sniffed and wiped his eyes again, “Okay…” 

But he didn’t feel okay at all. How could he feel okay when his mum was going to die because of him? 

But, if dad was smilling, did that mean everything was okay? Komaeda wasn’t sure. It just made him feel even more scared. At least he was here. His dad could keep him safe at least-

“Brilliant. Now, go with Nanny Kaneko.” 

Dad was gone, and Komaeda felt all the tears he’d just wiped into his school shirt rush back. 

“Come on Nagito.” Nanny Kaneko grabbed his arm and dragged him away, down the hall, away from mum, away from dad. A stern look creased her tired face, “You know you aren’t allowed in your parents room. That was so silly of you!”

He tripped over his feet as he tried to keep up. His heart pounded, “Nanny, mum said she’s going to die because of me.” 

Nanny slowed down, and the look she gave him made him think he shouldn’t have said anything at all. He gripped a hand into his uniform and sniffed to hold back the tears. He was a big boy now. If he cried anymore dad would just get more upset. 

Nanny squeezed his hand, and when he looked at her, she looked very upset. He didn’t even know what he’d done this time to make that happen. She was probably sad as well that mum was going to die because of him. 

She squeezed his hand a little tighter, the thin, dry skin of her hands shifting under his fingers. It didn’t help. 

“...Your mother isn’t well, Nagito. But she’ll be okay.” Her voice sounded funny as she said it. Komaeda didn’t really understand what she meant. Maybe Nanny didn’t either, and that’s why she sounded so weird. The sicky feeling in his stomach got worse. “She’s not going to die. The doctor is coming. That’s why you need to be good.” 

Be good. 

Being good meant not crying and staying quiet. 

Maybe if he did that, mum wouldn’t die and dad wouldn’t be mad.  

Nanny took him to his room. He turned around and looked up at her, and when he did, she looked even sadder. She took off his school cap and ran a gentle hand through his hair. It was nice. Maybe now he wasn’t crying and was being quiet Nanny might stay and she could read to him- 

“Now stay here, like a good boy. Don’t bother your parents again.” 

Nanny shut the door behind her, and Komaeda listened to her footsteps get quieter as they walked down the hall. 

Komaeda sniffled and rubbed at his nose. In his other hand, he still held his drawing. He’d almost completely forgotten about it. He looked at it, and the glow-y nice way that he’d felt before when he looked at it was gone. Now, he just felt hot. Hot with a weird, harsh feeling that made him want to scream and punch something. Anything. Maybe himself. But he couldn’t. He had to be good. 

He pinched his mouth tightly closed and breathed harshly. He wished he’d never drawn the stupid thing in the first place. It was a stupid, dumb idea. Only good boys got to go to the park. If he was a good boy, he wouldn’t have killed his mum. 

He threw it away, across the room, and the hot, nasty feeling only got worse when it didn’t fly as far away as he wanted and instead fluttered down to the floor lamely. 

Be good. Don’t yell. Don’t cry. 

He wiped away tears that wouldn’t stop and muttered it to himself. The feeling didn’t go away, it only grew. It grew too big, bigger than he knew how to deal with and he just couldn’t stop crying no matter how hard he tried - 

The bang of the front door closing startled him, and the feeling disappeared to make room for fear instead. There was yelling, and talking, one of the voices was his dads but he didn’t know the others. He quickly crawled to his bed and pulled his knees up to his chest. Outside his room, he listened intently to the muffled sounds of people walking around his house. He tried to hear what they were saying, but it was too quiet. 

Komaeda buried his head into his knees, and as his mother screamed, he only cried harder. Big boys don’t cry, and he was a big, strong boy. But maybe, if he was quiet, no one would find out he had been, and then no one would be upset with him, and maybe then, it didn’t really count anyway. 

When he realised that everything had gone quiet, he lifted his head again. Somehow, even though he’d only been sitting there a few seconds, hours had passed. He didn’t have proof of this. It was more a feeling he had. When he looked out the window, and saw it was nighttime, it only made the feeling deepen. 

He got off his bed, and his feet hit the floor a lot quicker than he expected, and when he stood up, he was older. Older than made sense. He didn’t question it.

He left his room, as quiet as possible. Something felt strange, like he was trespassing somehow, even though this was his house. Downstairs, he heard the sound of music, the sound of chatter. He searched for it. Every light was off in the house. A cool, uncomforting dark soaking everything, pulling fears into dark, uncertain corners and dangers into every loud creak his feet made against the floor. 

Golden light silhouetted the door to the library, and when he pushed it open, it spilled over him. 

A party. 

The library was full of people, people he didn’t know, people much older and wiser looking than he was. People who oozed professionalism and wealth and poise. Piano song danced through the room, its notes swaying through the small gaps between the crowd of people, and his father’s warm laughter squeezing in alongside it. Komaeda stepped into the room, and shut the door behind him. 

Why hadn’t they warned him they were having a party? He couldn’t remember them telling him. They usually didn’t shut up about them before they happened. Komaeda looked down at himself, and embarrassment coated him; slick and uncomfortable. He was completely under-dressed. Wearing only a sleep shirt and his boxers and nothing more. He tugged his shirt down further and just prayed that somehow no one would notice. It was too late to go and change now. 

He found his spot, the spot he always sat during these things, quietly out of the way, but prettily in view of anyone who cared. Not that anyone did. Here, on this sofa, his designated safe zone in the middle of a battle ground, he felt at least a little less like an obvious and embarrassing eyesore. 

His comfortable solitude didn’t last long. His father found him, a rowdy yell of excitement burst out of him, 

“There he is! My miracle boy!” 

He rose to his feet obediently, clenching his jaw, praying that no one would notice his ruffeld and unkempt state. Somehow, no one did. His father continued to sing his praises, a solid, warm hand gripping into his shoulder and jostling him, 

“Just you wait, one day my boy’s going to turn out to be an outstandingly talented, I just know it!” His dad shook him a little more roughly, and Komaeda had to work to keep standing, “Why, his teachers already say he’s showing massive potential!” 

Despite it all, the praise filled him, warm and squirming yet embarrassing, but still good. It made him bite back a smile. 

As usual, the feeling didn’t last long, 

“Potential for what?” Someone said with a snort, “Ultimate Catastrophe, maybe?” The crowd snickered, and Komaeda’s chest went cold as the feeling drained, “Though then again, I think it does take talent to be that incompetent!”

Laughter burst from the people in front of him, loud and uproarious and never-ending. Komaeda looked at his bare feet and pulled at the bottom of his t-shirt. His father’s hand squeezed into his shoulder harshly, and when he looked at him, he was still smiling, and he was laughing along with them. A stiff laugh, but a laugh all the same. Komaeda swallowed harshly, and laughed along as well, before excusing himself, turning away, and dropping the smile from his face. 

He found a new, unpopulated corner, further away from the piano, further away from the jeering crowd, and he clenched his jaw against the shame. Whatever. He hated these stupid parties. One day, he’d show them. 

He pulled a book off the shelf, and hoped that if he looked busy enough, he’d be left alone.  

No such luck. Though, this intruder was a lot more welcome than the last. 

“What are you reading, darling?” 

His mother sat primly beside him, glass of wine in her hand cupped professionally. Her smile was soft, her green eyes even softer, even if there was a certain, hazy look to them. There always was, nowadays. She brushed a thin hand through his hair, and it warmed him tip to toe. He told her the title, and her smile only turned warmer, 

“Like mother like son.” She murmured, her hand still brushing lines through his hair. Komaeda’s heart kicked into gear, pounding as his cheeks warmed with a blush.

He couldn’t help it. Something about the touch pulled something out of him. Jittery and wild in its naivete; a puppy let off its leash. The babbling began. He explained the book, the plot, the characters, what he liked, what he was excited about-

He looked up and his mother was gone, already up and talking to someone he didn’t recognise. 

Cold seeped back into him, replacing the temporary warmth her attention had given him. Oh well. He didn’t know what he’d expected. 

A drop onto his bare leg. 

He looked down. Red. Crimson, wet and sticky. 

He rubbed his mouth and when he pulled back his hand, it was smeared with it too. 

His throat clogged, and he choked, and when he managed to cough, hands firmly covering his mouth, he felt a splatter against his palms. 

Red. Crimson, warm and shining. 

A strange sensation, one other than the dread and confusion slowly engulfing him, made him look down at his stomach. His t-shirt, once only wrinkled with sleep, was stained with it, and it spread, soaking in, getting deeper, and deeper. Thicker. Stickier.

Blood on his hands, blood in his mouth, on his shirt, staining his clothes and his skin and his teeth- viscous and smothering him with the smell of death and taste of iron. He called for help, but the party continued. He grabbed onto someone, and they walked away as if he wasn’t even there. 

It was only getting worse. He didn’t know what to do. 

He felt it seeping out of him, felt it filling his throat once more. Exhaustion set in as the blood rushed out of him, but fear kept him moving despite it. He begged at someone, and they pushed him away. Even though it was light, his head was lighter, his body even more so with the lack of blood, it was enough to send him to the floor. He skidded across it, a smeer of blood ruining the dark hardwood floor his parents adored, before he landed at two pairs of feet. He looked up as his parents looked down at him. Affectless. Bored.   

He gripped weakly at the leg of his dad’s suit trousers, 

“Please-” he choked out. Blood splattered against his polished, brown leather shoes. 

His mother’s mouth lifted in a sneer. 

“Mum, dad-” 

They turned away.

He sobbed- or tried to. His throat was too blocked up with blood. Surely this was too much. How could there be this much blood? How could he be bleeding this much? He choked on it, tried to swallow it down, but the acidic, metal taste just made his stomach flip, and he hacked it back up, wet and thick slopping onto the floor, the sound gruesome and echoing in the empty library. 

He looked up. Empty. Empty even of light and warmth. Everyone had gone. Nothing but empty blackness pressing harsh against the tall windows of the library. Alone, completely, once again. Not just in this house. He didn’t know how, but he knew, easy to know as breathing, as his heartbeat. He was the only one on the entire planet. An entire, empty existence, of only him. The last, pathetic human on earth, left lying, bleeding his life out onto a cold, uncaring wood floor. 

His crying echoed, and despite it all, the sound of it bouncing back at him embarrassed him, and he tried to do it quieter, but it was hard. He collapsed onto his side, pulling his knees up to his stomach in response to some primal need to protect what was most delicate about him. Like it would do him any good. He couldn’t protect from what was inside of him. 

He hugged himself closer and watched the blood creep across the floor away from him, and closed his eyes, too scared to die. As he lay, he wished for someone to hold him. Even if it was pointless. Even if it was only until he died. It was too cold. He wished there was someone here. But there wasn’t, and there never was. Now, there never would be.  

–

Another day off for rest, and then he was back to school. Such an event wouldn’t usually put a skip in his step, but this was different. Now, school meant seeing Ishikawa. There was no way Komaeda couldn’t be excited for something like that. 

By a brilliant stroke of luck, he managed to catch Ishikawa just as he was parking his bike on the racks outside the school. 

He found himself calling out before he’d even realised it. 

“Ishikawa!”

Ishikawa stopped and turned, removing an earphone and searching for who called him. His eyes caught Komaeda, and he smiled. 

“Oh, hey Komaeda.” 

Komaeda felt more alive than he had in days. 

“Congratulations on your win the other day.” Komaeda praised, squeezing tighter than necessary onto the handle of his bag. Ishikawa laughed through a thanks and continued locking up his bike and removing his helmet. Komaeda kicked at the ground and watched a small stone jump away from him, “I’m sorry I caused such an issue for you. On such an important day too. I can never forgive myself…”

“Psh, it’s whatever.” Ishikawa shook out his hair, and ran a hand through it to fix it, “Glad you’re feeling better though.” 

Komaeda swallowed hard. Ishikawa’s words pinballing off the corners of his mindso hard he felt his head spin along with it. 

“Still I-” 

“Ishi!” 

Then, Ishikawa’s eyes were off him, and a rough arm looped around his neck. One of the boys from his class, one of Ishikawa’s friends, was dragging him away rowdily. 

Komaeda sighed. He supposed manners like that were to be expected of someone so hopeless. If only everyone else could understand how important Ishikawa was, then maybe they’d treat him with the respect he deserved. He was sure it must drive Ishikawa to madness to be treated in such a way. But Ishikawa didn’t voice his distaste. He laughed along with them, bantered back. 

Komaeda couldn’t stop watching them as he walked behind them to their classroom. Their playful bickering, the familiar tone they talked to each other with, the ease at which it all played out between the two of them, all of it carved a hole into Komaeda. It felt like hunger. And while he was only a few paces back from the two of them, he couldn’t have felt further out of reach. Ishikawa’s friend told a joke, and Ishikawa laughed and ruffled a hand through his friend’s buzzcut. The hunger panged. 

Komaeda gripped his bag a little tighter as his hands shook, swallowing down the spit that had gathered in his mouth. This dreadful feeling of despair he was consumed by surely only spoke to the marvellous hope their relationship possessed, and that could be due to no one other than Ishikawa. His kindness knew no bounds. To have such a close and personal relationship with someone so beneath him, that was a truly powerful hope. His nails cut crescents into the palms of his hands. 

Komaeda watched them and thought about killing himself.

His mind spun the idea in his head, a ceaseless repetition of moments Ishikawa had shown kindness and closeness with others as the despair in his chest grew and grew. It was worse than normal today. Ishikawa seemed to be particularly magnetic, for some reason. People crowded him, praised him. Komaeda couldn’t make out the details, no one was being specific enough, but Ishikawa basked in it. As he should. Ishikawa deserved every second of the praise they drowned him in. It wasn’t any of Komaeda’s business why everyone was particularly excited about him today. Even if they were being particularly annoying, taking up so much of his space so early in the morning. He also didn’t see why he was the only one who didn’t get to know. He deserved the opportunity to praise Ishikawa as much as any of the other meaningless spawn that filled his classroom. 

The bell rang, and Mr. Yoshida stood up from his desk. He called for them to settle, and everyone scarpered to their seats. 

“Seems the news has spread, Ishikawa.” 

Ishikawa smirked, and the guy that sat on the other side of him roughly pushed his hand into his hair. 

Even the teacher knew, huh? He really was the only one out of the loop. He didn’t think he’d been out of school that long. He glanced at Ishikawa, and he seemed to just sparkle.

“Though with your performance at the tournament last week, it’s of no surprise.” Mr. Yoshida adjusted his glasses, “I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say we’re immensely proud to be sharing a class with a future student of Hope’s Peak Academy-”

The words were like a cold-water dive. 

The sound of Komaeda’s chair screeching against his classroom’s wood floor sliced through the cheers and applause of his classmates. It didn’t matter to him. He was deaf to all of it. All he could hear was his heartbeat in his head. He stared at Ishikawa, and Ishikawa stared back. 

“Y-Yo-” 

“Komaeda, sit down-” 

“Ishikawa, is that true?” His voice was a whisper, shaking, almost indecipherable. He swallowed heavily, and his voice returned to him, “Ishikawa- Ishikawa you really got into Hope’s Peak Academy? You’re going to Hope’s Peak?! They asked for you there?!” 

Ishikawa looked away, then back again, shrinking away slightly in his seat, “Y-Yeah. Uh, a talent scout saw me play at that volleyball game-” 

Komaeda’s hands slammed onto Ishikawa’s desk. Ishikawa almost fell out of his chair in his attempts to get away, 

“I-It’s for your volleyball?!” Komaeda couldn’t control his breathing, “Y-You’re ultimate- You- You’re an- You’re an Ultimate! Ishikawa! Is this true?!”

Ishikawa held up a hand, “D-Dude, calm down-” 

“What’s your Ultimate?! What did they say!?” 

Ishikawa moved further away, “Komaeda, you’re freaking me out man, back off-” 

“I knew it.” He laughed, quiet and breathless for the lack of air he was managing to keep in his lungs. His head spun, his fingers tingled, he felt like he was on the verge of explosion, he gripped himself, as if it could keep him together, help keep in all the emotion crashing and rushing through him threatening to tear him apart completely, “I-I knew it! I knew it! Yo-You’re amazing Ishikawa! I always knew you were special. I could tell from the moment I met you. I knew you were someone amazing-” 

A hand smacked across his cheek, flinging his head to the side, and scattering all of his thoughts and words to the floor beneath him. 

“Komaeda, you will be silent in my classroom when I demand it!” 

Komaeda brought a hand up to his cheek, eyes wide and wet as he stared at his teacher, 

“Do you think any of this is appropriate? Do you think what you have to say is worth more than my teaching?” 

Komaeda stared at Mr. Yoshida, “No.” 

“Then I suggest-” 

“Only what Ishikawa has to say matters anymore-” 

The teacher’s hand slammed down onto the top of his desk. A girl across the room yelped, others flinched in their seats. Komaeda stared down his teacher without blinking. 

“Get out of my classroom. I will not allow you to waste any more of your classmate’s time with this! Stand outside in the hallway until I call you back.”

Komaeda thought about retaliating. Who the hell was some nobody teacher to tell him what to do when an Ultimate was right there? 

But his cheek still stung, and when he looked again at Ishikawa, he didn’t say anything, just stared at him. Komaeda’s stomach turned cold. He lowered his head, and left the classroom without a word, hand still nursing the burn from the slap. Murmurs flitted through the class as he left. He caught a few choice words in between the stifled giggles; ‘freak’, ‘weirdo’, ‘faggot’. 

He didn’t see how the last one was relevant. 

The way Ishikawa had looked at him haunted him as he stood outside his classroom, obedient and stiff. He’d stared at him like he was a stranger. He looked terrified. He stared at Komaeda like he was some kind of monster. 

Komaeda blinked away the stinging in his eyes. 

He didn’t care about the rest. About his teacher, about the things those people said. He didn’t care if people knew he was weird and off-putting. But Ishikawa was different. He was the one person he hoped would never look at him like that. 

He’d only been happy for him. Everyone else had spent all morning praising him for it. Why was it so different when he did it? Was he truly so hated? Even by Ishikawa? No one else understood him like Komaeda did. No one else understood the magnitude of the power he held, of just how important he was. So why was he the one shamed?

If he wasn’t going to have a talent, then why couldn’t he at least just be normal through and through? What was he doing wrong?

Komaeda’s legs ached. His feet felt hard and hot. He shifted, foot to foot, to try and relieve it. It didn’t do much to help. Teachers came and went between classes, but other than asking why he was standing outside, none of them told him to move. 

After too long, way, way too long, the lunch bell rang, and Mr. Yoshida finally re-appeared. The frown lines had only gotten deeper over the year. Komaeda had watched it happen. The same with the grey in his hair. It had been minimal at first. Now, he was more grey than black. He pushed his glasses up his flat nose bridge, and they instantly began slipping back down his face. 

“Faculty office. Now.” 

Always straight to the point. Unlike his appearance, that didn’t change. 

He stood silently next to his teacher’s cubical. Mr. Yoshida took his sweet time dealing with him, brewing himself a cup of coffee, and filling a Cup Noodle pot with boiling water from the office’s dispenser. He wrapped it in napkins and carried it over to his seat. Komaeda watched him take out a pair of wooden chopsticks from his plastic combini bag. He snapped them and they broke unevenly, splintering at the top. He clicked his tongue, then sighed, setting them on top of the pot, and pulling out a file from his drawer. 

“Komaeda Nagito.” He said, with the same tone someone announces they have to get out of bed early on a cold winter’s morning, or how they forgot milk after travelling all the way to the shop and back. He rubbed his face roughly, his loose skin pulling and shifting under his rugged hands, paying no mind to how the movement almost hit his glasses off his face. He just corrected them, and sighed heavily once more, before glancing over the files in his hands once more. 

“Underweight, little to no athletic ability, no history of participation in club activities, little to no participation in classroom activities, no relationship with your peers, a consistent string of absences due to sickness or otherwise, and despite your stellar academic abilities, no prospects and zero ambition.” 

He glanced up at him over his glasses. Komaeda stared back. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that. 

“What am I supposed to do with this, Komaeda?” 

Komaeda smiled sweetly and chirped, “Nothing, I suppose.” 

Komaeda watched his teacher’s jaw tighten. The file hit the desk with a slap. 

Ah, the wrong answer. Oops. 

“I try to be sympathetic to your…” His hand stopped rubbing his eyes, only to spin in the air as he drew out the word, “situation.” 

The word weighed heavy in his stomach like a lump of burning rock. He looked out the window instead. It was raining. The weather channel had said it was going to be sunny all week. How convenient, that someone had mistaken him this morning for someone else and insisted a lost umbrella upon him. He would’ve been stuck otherwise. 

“But there’s only so much I can do.” He continued, “Have you been meeting with your social worker?” 

“Of course.” Komaeda assured him truthfully. The consistency of the meetings and whether they were actually of any use was another thing entirely.

“Of course.” Mr. Yoshida repeated, defeated. A timer went off on his phone, and he stopped it’s beeping with a heavy hand. He sighed, once more, a third time just since he’d sat down then stared at Komaeda. 

Just as Komaeda wondered if maybe he was supposed to leave now, Mr. Yoshida asked, 

“What do you want to do, Komaeda?” 

He scrunched his smile in something apologetic, “Ah, pardon?” 

“How do you envision your future? What’s the end goal here?” 

Komaeda blinked. For a second, his smile faltered. 

“End goal?” The phrase felt strange on his tongue. He turned to look out the window once more.

Future? A future, for someone like him? What a ridiculous concept. How was someone as useless to society as him even supposed to consider a future? What was the point in someone like him having aspirations and goals? Such a thing, it’d only be insulting. 

“I suppose…I haven’t really considered it.” He replied, quiet, his mind still buried under the strange and confusing question. 

“Do you even know what you’re going to do after middle school?” Mr. Yoshida asked, exasperated, tapping a pen mindlessly on his desk. 

His only goal in life was to do whatever was needed to ensure that those with talent could thrive as beautifully as possible, so they could produce as much hope as possible. To lay the groundwork, and hope it was his back their feet pushed off of as they elevated everyone else into a better, brighter future. One better than the misery he existed in now. Anything else was just a waste. 

Though he supposed ‘Human Springboard’ wouldn’t be an acceptable answer. 

Komaeda’s smile turned sharp, before he softened it to something playful, 

“Maybe I’ll apply to Hope’s Peak Academy. I hear they have a reserve course now!” He laughed, bubbly and light, but it slowly died as his teacher’s expression only turned stonier. He swallowed, then smiled nervously, “Sorry, that was a joke.”

“This is a joke to you, then. Is that it?” The low tone he spoke with made Komaeda swallow hard. Mr. Yoshida’s gaze drilled into him harshly.  Then, he sucked his teeth, and flippently threw the pen he was fussing with onto his desk, “What a childish way of conducting yourself.” He shook his head. His hand made a fist on the desk; Komaeda tensed, “Your classmates are working hard to build a future for themselves, and you’re standing here, getting grades some of these kids would die for without even trying, and it’s all one big joke to you. How do you think that makes them feel? To have their efforts disrespected like that, by someone who's supposed to be working with them to lift them up?

“Do you think because your parents died you can get away with acting so selfishly? Then you wonder why they’re so hesitant towards you. I think you need to take a good, long look at yourself, and wonder if this is really how you want to conduct yourself. Because one day, you’ll be looking back with regret over all the opportunities you let pass you by because you were too busy laughing at your own, childish joke, and there will be no one around to blame for it but yourself.” He picked up Komaeda’s file, tapped it roughly on the desk to straighten out its contents, before dropping it back into his drawer and slamming it shut. He leaned his head on his hand, his elbow creasing a loose pile of papers on his desk, “Get out of my sight.” 

 Komaeda breathed. In, then out. He smiled, and bowed, low and polite, 

“Thank you, sir. Sorry for disrupting your class, and now your lunch too.” 

Mr. Yoshida didn’t respond. Just hooked some noodles onto his chopsticks and slurped them up, eyes already on his computer. 

Komaeda bowed once more in the entryway of the office and softly apologised again for his intrusion in the office, then closed the door behind him. 

After that, he breathed. He stood in front of the doorway and just breathed. 

Then, the moment was gone. He lifted his head, his hands relaxed from their fists, and he smiled serenely. 

He should go and buy Ishikawa lunch to celebrate, and to apologise. He was sure he’d appreciate that. 

-

Komaeda bought Ishikawa lunch every day from that point on. It was only right. Someone destined to be an Ultimate deserved to eat as well as possible to ensure he had the energy to perform at the top of his game. If Komaeda had the ability to assist him in that way, it was his place to do so. 

Ishikawa never asked, but Komaeda started helping him in any way he could. Ishikawa had been spending more time with other people in his class recently, but still, he sat next to Komaeda, and still they greeted each other every morning.  

During their chemistry class, Komaeda noticed Ishikawa struggling with the questions next to him. Komaeda spent the next few days neatly copying his notes into fresh notebooks, adding in extra information not included in classes that could help, and his own explanations for more complicated subjects. 

When Ishikawa walked into the homeroom to see the books waiting for him on his desk, he’d at first refused them. When Komaeda insisted, he tentatively glanced through one of the books. Komaeda’s hands hugged each other tightly on his lap, shoulders stiffly neutral, and smile detached but polite. Ishikawa’s jaw slowly dropped as he flicked through the book. Komaeda hoped that his explanations were at least a tiny bit understandable. He was sure it was probably pointless, that he’d probably end up confusing Ishikawa more than helping him, but before he could change his mind, Ishikawa accepted the notes gratefully. Komaeda played it off, but he was sure he was moments away from passing out yet again. 

When Komaeda caught him at lunchtime showing the notes to the others he hung around with, he suppressed the annoyance that struck through him. 

But he supposed it was just further examples of Ishikawa’s boundless hope, that he’d waste his precious time trying to help people so below him to improve themselves. Ultimates were truly amazing. 

So, when Ishikawa came to him and asked him for notes like that on other subjects, how was Komaeda supposed to refuse? It was everything he’d ever wanted. Komaeda was ecstatic, holding the conversation close to his chest through the rest of the day. He was so distracted by his joy; he failed to pay attention in class. 

It took him all week, but he did it. He handed them all to Ishikawa, colour coded and labelled.

“Woah, this is crazy dude! You’re so good at this stuff.” He skimmed through the books, and Komaeda breathed through the earth-shaking joy that threatened to tear him apart completely. 

Then, Ishikawa smiled, reached over, and ruffled a hand through Komaeda’s hair. 

There and gone. A warm hand tangled in his hair, jerking his head side to side, shivers tumbled down his back, down his arms, tickled his neck. Goosebumps consumed him as the shivers repeated, flowing back up, rebounding on themselves. Komaeda’s brain went numb as his cheeks flooded with heat, but Ishikawa didn’t seem to notice. 

“You’ve totally saved my ass, bro!” He praised, then looked at the books and sighed, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

Komaeda almost didn’t hear him. He was still reeling in the aftermath of his touch. 

When his words finally processed, tensed his jaw to keep the giggling laughter that threatened to burst free contained. He breathily replied that it was no problem, no issue, but even that sounded too happy. 

He could still feel his hand in his hair. Even as he lay in bed that night, staring blankly at the ceiling, the feeling of his fingers ghosted through his hair. Tentatively, Komaeda touched the area, as if it’d feel different. His hand mimicking Ishikawa’s only made the feeling worse. Komaeda covered his face and giggled. 

–

((Ishikawa asks Komaeda to take the bins out for him, Komaeda says yes, and returns to the classroom))

“I don’t get why you hang around him so much.” 

Komaeda recognised that voice. It was Ishikawa’s girlfriend’s friend. The fashionable one. She’d been there, that day that he’d collapsed. He’d recognise her whiny tone anywhere. 

“Are you really that desperate?” 

Ishikawa’s closest friend, that guy with the close-cut hair. Komaeda could imagine the annoying smile he sported as he spoke. 

“Shut up.” Ishikawa mumbled. A chair moved, and there were footsteps. 

“Well, what then?” The girl asked around the gum she was smacking in her mouth. She sounded annoyed, “You keep ditching us to hang out with him instead. You’re, like, the only person in the whole of the school who’s ever done that.” 

Ah, he was right. They were talking about him.

“He so has a crush on you too.” Ishikawa’s girlfriend drawled.

Komaeda’s eyes widened.

No, he didn’t he- He would never-

But that didn’t matter, Ishikawa would think so now regardless. 

“Oh, come on.” Ishikawa scoffed, 

The boy snickered louder. There was a sound of a gum bubble popping, and outside the door, Komaeda’s heart got heavier until it sank to the deepest part of his chest. 

…Did he have a crush on Ishikawa? Was someone like him even allowed to feel like that? 

“No like actually though.” Ishikawa’s girlfriend continued, “He’s so obvious about it.” Snickers sounded amongst them all. Ishikawa stayed silent, “It’d almost be cute, if it wasn’t so gross.” 

No, of course not. Especially not for someone like Ishikawa. 

“Oh, is that why you keep leaving us, huh?” Ishikawa’s friend’s chimed, voice smarmy and greasy with double meaning, “Doing a little more than talking in the back of the class is it-” 

Komaeda blushed as his stomach dropped. His hand gripped his uniform more firmly. He felt sick. 

“Hey, fuck you man!” Ishikawa exclaimed. There was a sound, like commotion. Ishikawa’s friend and that fashionable girl laughed and yelled. Then, the commotion settled, “Augh, why would you even make me think of something like that.” 

He spat it, like the words tasted sour on his tongue. 

Ishikawa would be disgusted at even the thought of something like that. Anyone would. He knew this.  So why did it feel like a knife in his back?

“Well, at least you’re still batting for the right team. Or…Serving? Is that a volleyball thing?” The girlfriend’s friend added stupidly. 

“You should see him when he watches you play.” Ishikawa’s girlfriend. Her voice was low and smooth, before turning a little wistful, “It’s like there’s no one else in the room.” It snapped, turning sharp, as she ground through her teeth, “It really pisses me off.” 

Komaeda collapsed into the wall behind him. This was…This was humiliating. 

His mind flashed back to every game he’d attended to watch Ishikawa. Had everyone there known? They were probably all laughing at him, just to deal with the disgust they felt. 

He hadn’t done it on purpose. He didn’t even know. He hadn’t meant to- He didn’t mean to- 

But none of them would know that. Everyone must have thought he was so audacious and stupid. He must’ve looked so starry-eyed and pitiful.

Komaeda knew his place. He knew. He knew. 

“Didn’t you have a crush on him before?” Her friend dropped, and the words caused an explosion within the classroom. Loud, uproarious laughter, the sound of chairs and tables scraping, rushed footsteps and yelling all collapsing on top of each other. 

A crush on who? 

Him? HER? 

That…Had to be a joke. A mean, callous joke but a joke all the same.

“Oh, shut up, you did too! Everyone did!” The girlfriend’s voice was rushed, obviously embarrassed as she tried to defend herself. Even still, her friend’s and Ishikawa’s friend’s snickers continued to sound, “Then he went and opened his mouth and ruined it.” There was a sigh, and the laughter settled. Ishikawa’s girlfriend still continued to fight, “Plus he’s like, totally creepy. Not just his personality like, his whole vibe. It's like a bad smell. You can’t get over it!” 

“I’ve heard he’s cursed.” The fashionable girl mused, “If you touch him, you get like, 7 years bad luck.” 

“That’s breaking a mirror, moron.” Ishikawa’s girlfriend replied.

“Whatever.” 

“I bet he’s into some freaky shit.” Ishikawa’s friend pondered, then, more excitedly, “You could probably make him your slave, Ishi. Is that it? He’s already your little errand boy.”  

“More than errands-” The girlfriend’s friend murmured,

Komaeda snatched his hands away from his neck and hugged them across his chest, tucking his fists under his arms. He felt caged. Trapped with his feet glued to the floor. He felt the walls closing in around him. 

But then, 

“That’s not it!” Ishikawa yelled. His voice was strong and righteous, splitting through Komaeda’s spiralling turmoil like a soft beacon of light. “I can’t- Ugh you’re so gross!” 

He held his breath tight in his chest.

“Look, I just felt bad for him, okay? He’s always on his own-”

A hush fell over him. He strained, attempting to hear through the door more clearly. But it was no misunderstanding. Komaeda couldn’t hear anything else but anger at his friends, for his sake. 

A lump formed in his throat. A cool, hopeful feeling washed over him; his heartbeat rushed. 

“Yeah, because he’s weird.” Ishikawa’s girlfriend insisted. 

Komaeda huddled closer to the edge of the door. His hand gripped into his chest, creasing his uniform. 

“Well-” Ishikawa started. Komaeda held his breath. 

Ishikawa sighed, heavy and long. Komaeda didn’t even blink. 

“Yeah,” Ishikawa sighed. A beat of silence, then, quietly, “He really freaks me out most of the time…”

Komaeda’s heart stopped. 

“You think I haven’t noticed how he looks at me?” Ishikawa continued, voice picking up confidence the more he spoke. Disgust bleeding further into his tone with every word, “It makes me feel so…Ugh. And the shit he says, you wouldn’t believe half of it. He’s like, really messed up in the head. Nothing he says makes any sense. He keeps going on about like, hope and despair or some shit. I don’t even know. It’s so weird and boring, I don’t get it at all. The constant praise too- even I’ve started finding it annoying.” 

“That’s when you know it’s bad.” Ishikawa’s friend.

“But like, it’s the nice thing to do, right?” Ishikawa continued, “I can put up with it. Everyone needs someone.” 

“Awww, you’re so charitable.” His girlfriend sang teasingly, 

“Oh, so it’s all to get in the good books with the ladies, eh? Like helping a crying puppy. You look better the uglier the puppy is.” Ishikawa’s friend joked. It was a hit. They all laughed along with him. 

“Whatever.” Ishikawa replied, his voice strained from laughter, “When he finally loses it and blows up the school, don’t come crying to me when I’m the only one he spares.” 

“Oh my god Ishikawa!-” 

The door slammed as it hit the end of its track, bouncing back closed slightly before rolling open once more. It commanded silence across the room. Four heads shot to the door and stared, wide eyed.

“Oh, hello there.” Komaeda said pleasantly, tilting his head with his smile. 

Guilty silence choked them. Komaeda paid it no mind, walking past them and towards his desk. They looked between each other. Komaeda played along, and pretended he couldn’t hear them mouthing comments between them. 

The three side characters left. Komaeda glanced up as he gathered his things. Ishikawa’s girlfriend met his gaze and held it. Komaeda stared back, until she turned away, nose high as she left, her friends chittering behind her. The fashionable girl coo-ed at Ishikawa, then continued to laugh as she closed the classroom door behind her. 

Komaeda stared at the door, but it stayed closed. He closed his bag, locked the latch. He meant to pick it up and leave. But when he grabbed it, he stalled. He gripped it tighter.

“...Uh…” Ishikawa voiced. He’d approached him, standing a table away, his hand nervously picking at a dent in its wood. 

Komaeda didn’t respond. He just stared at him. The evening sun was dark. Its light was a warm, deep orange cast over the classroom. It was cloudy outside. Slowly, a cloud covered the sun, and the colour faded. 

Ishikawa cleared his throat, then smiled weakly, “H-how was bin duty, bud?” 

Komaeda smiled, his eyes squinting closed softly, “You don’t need to do this, you know.” 

“I-” 

“It’s fine. I completely get it.” Komaeda shook his head, his smile persisting. He turned his gaze back down to his bag. “You’re right. It’s not like I ever really thought someone as amazing as you would ever think positively of someone like me.” 

“...I-It’s not like that-” 

“I really appreciate the effort though. They’re right. They’re completely right.” His hand gripped into his bag once more, the bones in the back of his hand pushed against the thin skin covering them, “You’ve done more, so much more than I ever deserved.” His voice shook, but still he smiled, even wider, and said softly, genuinely, “Thank you.”

Ishikawa paled. He looked away, his hands in fists, “...D-Don’t thank me…” 

Komaeda blinked, eyes wide, “Why not?” Ishikawa didn’t give him an answer, “She was right. It was a charity. You’ve done so much for someone as needy as me, you deserve all the thanks I could provide.” He stepped forwards, tilting his head further into Ishikawa’s view. Ishikawa avoided his stare. “Is a servant what you want?”  That made him look at him. A hot flush replacing the blood that had previously left his cheeks. “I could carry your books for you-”

“D-Dude-” 

Komaeda stepped further forwards. Ishikawa stepped back, “I could clean your shoes,” His breathing picked up, but his voice didn’t waver. He held his stare on Ishikawa, “I could even use my tongue, anything you want-”

“Hey-”

He stepped forwards again. Ishikawa tried to step back but had to catch himself on a table as he stumbled. Komaeda’s stare bore into him, wide and unblinking. His breathing shook, but despite how much he took in, he didn’t feel any of the benefit from it. His head felt light. His fingers tingled. A static filled his brain and shut out his thoughts. 

“Anything you want.” Komaeda’s voice trembled, he swallowed back the spit that had gathered in his mouth from breathing so hard, “Anything you wanted from me I’d do it for you.” Ishikawa stumbled further backwards, hand up, as if to ward him off,

“Dude-” 

But Komaeda just advanced on him. The tremor in his voice taking over his body as the static increased, swallowing him, until he couldn’t feel anything but the tingling stinging sensation- pins and needles fuzzing his fingers plucking against his nerves. His speech rushed, his words tripping as he slurred out, “I’d do anything you ask of me, no matter how shameful. I’d even let you kill me if it meant it’d make you happy-” 

The fist hit him square in the cheek and sent him flying. He crashed into the tables beside them, their hard edges smacking into his side, catching his ribcage. He caught himself on a chair, but it did nothing but smack pain into his elbow as he smashed into the floor, chair and table legs scraping harshly across the wood floor and clattering together in the collision. 

He stared up at the ceiling tiles of his classroom, dazed. 

“Shit-” Ishikawa gasped; his own breathing now laboured. He stumbled back a step, falling into a table and scrambling upright again as it screeched across the floor. “Shit I-I didn’t-” He panted, swallowed hard, “You’re just really fucking freaking me out dude!” 

A strange feeling bubbled up inside him. It pushed behind his eyes, clogged his throat, constricted his chest, and continued to bubble and bubble. Komaeda opened his mouth, and the bubbles rushed out as laughter. 

It started slow, but snowballed, rolling quickly out of his control, louder and louder. He pushed himself onto his elbows, dropped his head forwards, and his laughter shook him. He brought a hand up to his mouth, touched it lightly, then winced. When he pulled back, he saw red. 

His laughter halted; he turned to look up at Ishikawa. The boy stared down at him, eyes wide and shaking, face pale. Komaeda slowly held up his hand and showed him the blood. He smiled, and it pulled the cut further. Blood tickled as it dripped down his chin, his stomach flipped, and he gagged against the taste of it filling his mouth. 

Ishikawa ran away. 

His breathing stuttered, then was snatched away once more by a loud, screeching laughter as blood seeped out of his cracked lip. Komaeda couldn’t even feel it. The blood dripped onto his uniform and Komaeda sat on his classroom floor and laughed. He laughed until it made him gag, then he laughed some more. His laughter bounced off the walls and echoed back at him. The classroom, laughing at him as well. He stopped only to spit more blood, and the sight of it splattering against a floor his classmates had just put so much effort into cleaning made him laugh harder. 

The cloud that had moved over the sun passed by, and the sunlight shone down into the classroom uninterrupted once more. 

[hellscupboards]

wdym geralt isn't a pest control professional in every universe including canon

[knickknacksandallthat]

I feel like the way kerejean would announce their relationship to the world would be jean finding some random tweet thirsting over kevin on twitter

and the tweet would be something like "man i wonder how it would feel to fuck kevin day"

and fucking jean replies with "10/10, will be trying again"

(technically jake could reply too, but he wont cause he knows jean would actually kill him)

haha omg anon! It's so funny b/c I haven't really decided whether in this au they'll go public yet...but either way this is hilarious 🤣🤣

100% stan Jean Moreau having the confidence to be like "Yes, I get to have this. Yes, this is mine. Yes, it's goddamn delicious. And no, no one else will fucking touch it."

There's a slight hc I have in this scenario of Jake not replying but simply liking the tweet, and Jeremy literally having to talk Jean off the ledge for days because of it:

JEAN: *throwing clothes into a suitcase as he stalks around the bedroom* the arrogance of that asshole!

JEREMY: *following behind him taking the clothes right back out again* love, all he technically did is like it. He's agreeing with you.

JEAN: Exactly! How dare he!

KEVIN: So are we going to talk about the fact that you just outed us to the public, or...?

[cantankerouscatfish]

never wanna see another flower again in my LIFE

[bocceclub]

I'm happy for the couple but I really want this wedding to be over with because I'm sick of my free time being monopolized by Family Activities. literally every day I've requested off this summer has been for family stuff (sick days and days I was too depressed/tired to go to work don't count). I'm trying to job hunt and apartment hunt and work and have my own social life but it's kind of hard when every weekend is an activity I'll get intensely guilt tripped over if I try to bow out of it – and when I do have a day off I can't just say I want a day to myself, I have to say I have plans or plans will be made for me. I'm so sick of feeling like my time doesn't belong to me

[blueskrugs]

why are there SO MANY trades being made today

[rat-kingster]

how to turn off tumblr notifications

[cat-gwyn-gunn]

I’m about to tell my job to get in the water if you know what I mean

[amaranthinespirit]

husband!simon riley follows you around like a lost dog 24/7.

whether it be in the comfort of your own home, or out in public, the man is basically your shadow. like a moth to a flame, he is the moth and you're his flame.

it doesn't matter where you saunter off to, chances are, he's stomping right after you. Around your house, he's following you to every room.

need the bathroom? keep the door open, he'll lean against it with his arms crossed over his chest, either watching you silently or tapping away on his phone.

cooking in the kitchen? he's hovering over your shoulder. you can't count the amount of times on one hand you bumped into his broad, brutish chest, stepped on his foot, or, definitely not on purpose, whacked his groin with a small pan. still, he never learns.

watching TV in the living room? you best bet he's going to sit his big ass right next to you. even if you're on the single person armchair, he'll squish you into the armrest if it meant being next to you.

showering? not without him because he'll join you, and find a way to release pent-up need at the same time, that is if you aren't already stressed that day, then he'll just wash your hair and run a relaxing bath for you to soak in peace afterwards.

In public, people give him weird side glances, numerous occasions where you've had concerned folks tap you on your shoulder and give a small point over your shoulder, to which you reply sweetly with the biggest smile on your face, "oh, that's just my husband!"

he keeps a thick finger hooked into the waistband of your pants, or shorts, or looped in one of your belt loops to keep you near him. since you're much smaller than him, it can be easy for you to get lost in big crowds, and this just assures simon that you're never out of reach.

it's a funny thing to watch for the guys to watch, observing their lieutenant follow you around aimlessly like a big puppy, eyes soft as he gazes down at you, sharpening when another person approaches or observing.

you think it comes from never being able to control his surroundings, his obsessive need to keep you safe, more so now that you have a wedding ring on your finger, forever tying you to him. not physically, but he wouldn't hesitate to if it meant keeping you safe.

[zorilleerrant]

oh WOW the ship poll blog just dropped the biggest NoTP of every NoTP I have!!!! hate that guy!!!! want him dead again!!!!

[earlgreylatte]

Variant Madness

You thought he was your Mark.

Omni Mark and Shiesty Mark 2V1 you.

Breathing in, you savour the fresh air of the mountain trail you find yourself on. You had visited years ago, but you decided to come again to enjoy the scenery. Maybe you could find a cool rock for Mark and Oliver, too.

You hope things are peaceful for them too, but even if there is another threat that needs to be taken care of, you’re sure Mark would be able to come find you easily enough.

You feel a bit pathetic that you already miss him, even though you’re going to see him in a couple of hours. You suddenly find yourself understanding Debbie’s usual amusement when she watched you two. You really acted like a lovesick puppy, sometimes.

Feeling your phone buzz from your pocket, you fumble for a second as you’re broken from your thoughts, rooting through your jacket to find it. Just as your fingers begin to pull it out a sudden rush of air hits you from behind, your jacket’s hood suddenly pushed over your head as you drop your phone onto the soil as dirt is kicked up into the air.

You whip around, to find…Mark? He was still wearing his black and blue suit, but his entire head was now covered, making him look a little intimidating, with his mouth and hair covered.

He stares at you wordlessly.

“Were you in that much of a rush to show me your new costume? I mean, you just got a new one from Art just a couple of months ago,” you speak up, rubbing the dirt out of your eyes, “Honestly, you could have caused a dirt storm or something…”

He breathes out your name.

You tilt your head, “Is something wrong? Did something happen? Are Debbie and Oliver okay—!?”

Your worrying is cut off when within an instant he has you crushed to his chest, arms locked around you as he buried his head against your neck.

“I just really missed you,” he whispers.

Looks like he’s a lovesick puppy, too.

You can’t hold back a dopey smile, “I missed you too.”

You jolt in his arms when you realize your phone is still vibrating; a redial, so possibly urgent.

“Mark, my phone—“

You’re interrupted again when he pivots you so your back hits a nearby tree, his mask rolled up enough to reveal his mouth which soon presses against yours.

Anything you wanted to say is forgotten as you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. He groans into your mouth as his hands plant themselves to your waist as he places a knee in between your legs.

He moves from your lips to your neck, pressing adoring kisses against your pulse point before helping you shrug off your jacket, letting it to the ground as his hands slide under your shirt, gloved fingers brushing against your ribcage.

“Mark,” you breathe, heart swelling at the sweet intimacy he was more than willing to give you.

Your attention is broken again when you notice your phone is still ringing, your gaze sliding from the man nestled against you to the forest floor where your phone laid.

Your body stiffens.

The caller ID illuminating your phone was one you could recognize even from afar just from the amount of heart emojis you set for…your boyfriend.

The boyfriend that was currently with you.

Whose grip on you begins to tighten as your heart starts to hammer in your chest.

You shakily bring up your hands to hook your fingers beneath his mask, slowly pulling it up as he remains as still as a statue. The face is familiar, if not a little more worn, but the brown eyes you held so dear were now filled with a sadness deep enough to drown you.

This wasn’t your Mark.

Mark was definitely lucky he was attractive, you decide.

If he wasn’t, you definitely wouldn’t have tolerated the sheer annoyance his two variants were causing you.

“Were you a virgin or something until now? Because you fuck like a noob,” A Mark with a wild rag mask laughed as the one that was dressed like Omni Man 2.0 pounded into you, your back pressed against an alleyway wall, the area long deserted from the destruction the two men unleashed on the city.

“I doubt you even know what you’re talking about, with how you talk like a preteen boy,” The red and white Mark huffs, tone passive enough that you’d think he didn’t care about his copy’s words if not for his pace speeding up and his thrusts going deeper and deeper until your voice reaches a new octave.

The other Mark scoffs, “Well, not that she minds, already looks cockdrunk off your tiny dick. Hey, sweetheart, bet I can take you to heaven and back with one stroke.”

“I will kill you.” The Mark fucking into you, tightens his grip, turning to death stare the now laughing Invincible.

“Aww, is daddy mad? Scared she’s going to want to run away with me once I slip my dick in her?”

You can’t believe you have to orgasm while listening to their dumbass argument…

“Hey, if you’re going to hog her pussy, at least move her so I can put that mouth to use—“

Annoying people really shouldn’t be so hot.

The invincible tag is so good rn, I’m actually in tears…

Decided to do a 2in1 special because people really want me to make a part two of that other variant post…it will come…

Masterlist

[lindseytaftmusic]

Tswift clowning is the only thing getting me through the absolute trenches of this week.

[kurooh]

I’MA MAKE U SCREAM ★ S. GOJO & S. GETO

⊹₊˚. a series of unrelenting, mysterious phone calls late at night leads to you being sandwiched between two hot ghostface slashers who’ve got you fucking for your life.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, ghostface! gojo & geto, threesome, knife play, landline phones, mentions of death, oral (f receiving), double penetration, anal/fingering, tongue piercings, pussy slapping, biting. 5.2K words whew (pls read anyway 🧎‍♀️)

xoxo, juno. happy halloween!! thank you to my dearest wolfy anon for beta reading <33 comment & rb if you enjoyed!!! 🎃

“hello?”

“why don’t you wanna talk with me?”

“who is this?” you roll your eyes, unimpressed by the cheery voice coming through the phone. “it’s like eleven at night, what do you want?”

“ya tell me your name, and i’ll tell ya mine,” that voice lilts into a teasing tone, words dripping with persuasive sweetness.

“nah, i’m heading to bed. nice talk.”

“aw, bedtime already? you’re not even gonna watch a movie before you sleep?” the question has your brows furrowing in aggravation, but you sigh, choosing to answer anyway.

“i didn’t have anything in mind,” the caller lets out a laugh, straight into your ear. “what, you’ve got a suggestion?”

“do you like scary movies?” and you can hear the smile in the caller’s voice; he’s amused, probably laughing with his friends over the prank call in the moments of muffled silence.

“i suppose so.”

“don���t you have a favorite? why not watch it?”

“well, i won’t be able to sleep,” you reply simply, twirling the phone cord between your fingers. “but the longer we talk, the more sleep i lose out on. so, have a good night!”

“wait!” the caller snaps, demanding as ever. the sudden outburst sends chills straight down your spine. “don’t hang up on me.”

“and why shouldn’t i?” the blatant defiance has the caller letting out a laugh that sounds rather menacing . . he clears his throat, seemingly returning to his more even tempered tone.

“we’re not done talking,” he says simply, sounding a little crackly through the phone. “so don’t hang up, you’ll—”

a rational person with an interest in talking would certainly call during the day, and only once or twice before quitting altogether to wait for a call back. an irrational person would have your house phones ringing off the hooks while you were in the shower, calling nonstop and then getting far too arrogant once you finally picked up. just as you slam the phone back down, it starts to ring again.

you decide to leave the room, figuring that the caller will tire himself out quickly, but he doesn’t. in the time that you left the phone to go to another room, there wasn’t a single beat of silence. furious, you race toward the phone, fingers sliding on the kitchen counter as you snatch it up.

“fuck you! listen to me, you’d better stop—”

“no, you listen to me,” the caller snarls, and the harshness of his voice has your heart kicking hard against your rib cage. something in your gut tells you that this isn’t just a talkative caller. “don’t fucking hang up on me again, got that?”

you recover some of your composure, goosebumps rising on your skin. the cool breeze blowing through a nearby window adds to the chilling feeling that’s washed over you in only a matter of seconds. “w-well, what do you want, then?”

“i wanna see your insides, dummy,” is the crazed response, and you can’t stop the way your face immediately twists in horror. a clicking sound is heard as the second phone in your house—the one upstairs—is picked up, and another person hops onto the call.

“now, now,” this new voice is smooth, immediately drawing your attention as you listen attentively through the phone. “that’s no way to talk, you’ll scare her silly.”

“what the fuck?” you ask aloud, although you hadn’t meant to. all you can think about is the fact that two weirdos have you almost . . cornered on the phone.

the crazy voice scoffs, ignoring your mumbling. “well, you heard her! trying to hang up and shit,” he clicks his tongue in disapproval before sighing. “anyway, where were we?”

you don’t even say anything, and the other voice exhales into the phone. “see, look at what you’ve gone and done now. our girl’s too scared to talk to us, isn’t she?”

“look, i-i’m just gonna go to bed. goodnight.”

“you’re not going anywhere, honey,” the calmer one of the two says, but this time his voice is much clearer, almost as if he’s standing beside you. you take a step backward, trying to shake off the weird feelings and relentless goosebumps spreading across your skin.

you might as well be wearing nothing.

the satin slip dress you were planning to sleep in is as thin as plastic wrap; you’ve backed up into someone’s strong chest and thanks to the thinness of your pajamas, you can feel each sharp ridge of muscle. the pecs are strong, firm to the touch, and the abs are hard enough to cut diamonds. fear races through your body, so overwhelming that your lips part to let out a scream—but the noise is muffled by a large palm that pulls you back, flush against the muscles. separated only by a few layers of clothing, you can feel the warmth of their body and the casual rise of their chest as they breathe. if you weren’t being silenced, this would be comforting, in a way.

“promise you won’t scream, baby?” that calm voice has a dangerous edge; you nod immediately, frantically, desperately — as you feel a few tears gather in your eyes. this . . does not look, feel, or sound good in any way imaginable. who even are these people? and why you? a seemingly normal thursday evening had gone entirely downhill, and you didn’t even know why.

“good girl,” the person hums, dropping their hand from the lower half of your face and instead replacing it with the sharp edge of a knife. “let’s head upstairs, shall we?” as you ascend the steps, the blade drops lower, until it hovers over the tender skin of your throat. you can’t even turn around and see who the person is, for fear of getting cut over the simple action.

“could i at least turn around?”

“what for?” he asks, nudging the bedroom door open. you’re met with the frightening sight of a person in robes lounging on your bed, against your pillows. they have a spooky, ghostly mask, but you know who it is the second their mouth opens.

“you took the knives out that quickly?” the figure clicks his tongue, raising a hand to his face to pull off the ghostface mask. so this is what this is—some kind of ridiculous scream roleplay . . but the feel of the knife and the way it gleams is too real. “what happened to playing around, suguru?”

“it’s—it’s you! from the phone.” you say, straining against the man behind you, who pulls the knife a few inches away from your throat.

“careful now, doll. you’ll hurt yourself.”

“if you let me go, maybe i’d—” the man on the bed sits up then, pulling off his mask. you can’t see who he is just yet, the shadow from his hood obscuring his face. in a moment, he grabs hold of your face with a gloved hand, fingers squeezing cruelly at your cheeks.

it’s utterly nasty, the way feelings of attraction twist in your stomach. heat rises to your cheeks and you swallow, looking into diamond blue eyes that have your heart fluttering despicably. how is it possible to even be focused on your grim reaper’s looks, almost entirely forgetting their intentions as you lose yourself in those eyes?

“cat got your tongue? i said i wanna see your insides and you didn’t even look fazed.”

beneath the robe, you can see the tips of snowy hair, along with a face that’s far too handsome to belong to some kind of murderer. you shake your head in disbelief, sucking in a breath. “uh . . huh? sorry, i didn’t hear you.”

he drops your face with an annoyed scoff, stepping back to plop down on your bed before fully pulling off his hood. “y’know what—suguru, you deal with her.”

the man behind you pushes you forward, and you awkwardly take a seat beside the sighing killer. suguru tugs off his mask and inspects the knife closely, running a gloved finger over the edge before nodding. “might as well use the knives on you. maybe you’ll hear us then?”

“what’re you—why’re you doing all this?” you ask, the words sputtering out of your mouth nervously. “is there any way i can convince you not to cut me open?”

suguru looks at his literal partner in crime, pushing his black bangs away from his eyes as he speaks. “oh? trying to cheat death, sweet thing?”

you shrug, casually flopping onto your back. the satiny fabric of your dress flips up, and you unintentionally give both of them a great view of your panties. now that they’re deliberating how to move forward with you, the fear of the situation has dissipated greatly. “i just wanna go to bed and live to see another day tomorrow. name the price for my life and i’ll pay it.”

“those are fighting words,” suguru remarks, “don’t you agree, satoru?”

satoru nods, eyes glued to the thin fabric covering what’s between your legs. his mind runs wild as he imagines what he and suguru could impose on you. they’re practically in sync—suguru looks over just as satoru looks up, the two of them sharing a knowing look.

“hmph. sit up and listen.” satoru nudges your thigh, and you do as he says, looking bored. the whole night has done one too many 180s, giving you the most severe case of whiplash in your life. you’d initially been annoyed, terrified, then mildly attracted, and now . . almost indifferent.

“you’ve got my full attention.”

“we’ll let you live, on one condition,” satoru raises a finger before you can object, while suguru’s eyes covertly sweep over your body. “think you could handle us at the same time?”

a proposition for a threesome is something you certainly did not see coming! you bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to maintain composure. suguru spices it up with a smirk, dragging that sharp knife of his along the edge of your jaw.

“you’ll have to fuck like your life depends on it.”

it does. tension weighs the air down, filling the room with a thickness even suguru’s knife couldn’t cut through. sweat beads along the skin of your spine and you exhale in defeat. being between these two would be hard—in all ways possible; but one mistake and they’d probably end up slitting your throat.

truthfully, you’re willing to risk it. most girls don’t usually cross paths with two men that are each extremely attractive and willing to share you between one another. you squeeze your thighs together, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

“y-yeah, okay. i’ll do it.”

“atta girl,” satoru praises, the corners of his eyes crinkling. a wicked smile finds its way onto his rosy lips, but you don’t back down, instead spreading your legs. you look between them, a silent invitation extended in one glance.

“lie back for us.”

“you were the one who told me to sit up—” perhaps the unnecessary snark isn’t a good idea, not with the way suguru eyes you warily.

satoru leans in hastily, connecting his lips with yours to effectively shut you up. his body barrels into yours, pushing you into suguru, who catches you and cages you against his strong chest. the knife is abandoned as he strokes his fingertips along the tender skin of your neck, sighing into your ear while satoru occupies your lips.

“so pretty. heh, you’re pretty every night.”

suguru’s touch has you letting out a moan that satoru eagerly swallows, his gloved hands roaming your body. however, he seems to remember he’s got gloves on; without pulling away, he snatches them off.

“her tits, suguru—play with her tits.”

the mumbled words are audible only to suguru, who complies with a chuckle. unlike satoru, he makes no move to do away with his gloves. you moan, his hands squeezing at your tits while his fingertips stroke over your nipples until they grow hard.

“s-suguru,” you mewl, pulling away for a moment to suck a breath into your deprived lungs, “keep touching me there—just like that.”

satoru’s palm comes down hard against the side of your thigh, and he grips your face, forcing you to look at him. “focus on me, got that? wouldn’t want him to stop, would you?”

you shake your head, and in a split second, satoru’s got your upper lip between his teeth. he bites down playfully; the impact makes you gasp, and he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. arousal pools in your panties, and you fidget in your spot between them, hoping that you’ll finally get the attention you’ve been craving sooner rather than later. suguru’s tongue drags against your neck while he takes in the scent of your body wash from earlier’s shower. there’s a cool sensation coming from the center of his tongue—you can feel a firm ball of some kind.

it’s a little shameful, getting this hot and heavy from a simple kiss. only, his tongue rolls against yours, and any semblance of embarrassment melts away. suguru’s fingers pinch both of your nipples at the same time, sending shockwaves right to your pussy.

“fuck,” you sob into satoru’s mouth, practically lightheaded from how overwhelming it already is, as well as the lack of air. “i-i need more.”

suguru hums, continuing to toy with your hardened nipples. “already slutting yourself out for us, sweetheart? that was fast, wasn’t it?”

satoru finally draws back, a glossy string of spit connecting your lips to his. he doesn’t move just yet, savoring the moment like a piece of special candy—you’ve practically got hearts in your eyes, all hot and bothered because of him. well, suguru is a factor, but he didn’t put in nearly as much work as satoru.

“lie back for us, babe.” this time you don’t fight them on it, scooting off suguru so you can comfortably prop yourself up on the mountain of pillows.

“tsk. this dress ought to go.” suguru brandishes his knife, and cuts through the satin material of the slip as easily as a stick of butter.

“hey!” you snap, the remains of your dress sliding off to the sides of the bed like rags. “what about you two!? you can’t just cut up my clothes like that when neither of you are naked!”

satoru rolls his eyes, tossing your legs apart. meanwhile, suguru clearly isn’t done with that knife; he trails it along the slopes of your naked body, the edge of the blade sharpened in a way that has you gasping. he applies a little bit of pressure, and your skin splits like it would after a paper cut.

“a-are you cutting my skin open?” you ask incredulously. you know the answer, but for whatever reason, you don’t pull away from him.

“maybe,” he replies breezily. “‘s nothing deep. you can handle it, can’t you, honey?”

“would you look at that?” satoru wolf whistles, and heat rises to your cheeks as he gathers your legs together, tugging them up. the knife pauses at your collarbone as suguru leans backwards to take a look, and his eyebrows raise immediately.

“she’s fucking soaked.”

“put the knife down ‘n come give it a taste.”

satoru’s request is breathless, but effective. the knife falls onto the blankets, and for a moment you use your head to consider what might happen in the future—someone could sit on that thing, lie down on it. satoru’s tongue rips the thought out of your head and replaces the words that were on the tip of your tongue with a sweet moan of bliss. your clit throbs at the prospect of more, and their balmy puffs of breath fanning over you only arouse you further.

their faces press together, side by side as they start to eat your pussy in a way that immediately has your back arching and hips bucking. satoru focuses all his attention on your clit, flicking the tip of his tongue over it while suguru slurps up all of your slick. there it is again, that cool sensation—he’s got a tongue piercing. the moonlight shines through the flowy curtains, illuminating the killers in an almost angelic glow . . maybe they’re actually pussy killers.

“‘s like fucking candy,” satoru moans, tongue dipping down to gather up your slick. it bumps into suguru’s, and he only lets out a laugh that sends vibrations through your entire core. “sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted, shit.”

the room fills with the lewd, nasty sounds of their slurping and licking as they devour your pussy together. you slip a finger between your teeth and bite down once one too many noises threaten to escape you, and suguru pulls back to land a smarting slap on your pussy.

“ah ah. do not try to go quiet on us.”

“sorry, ‘m sorry,” you stutter dumbly, mind and body reeling from the delicious sting of the slap.

“we want you screaming,” he emphasizes, spitting onto your cunt and watching as it flutters, the glob slipping down more rapidly due to the movement. “and you will be, by the end of all this. understand, doll?”

you nod hastily, and his eyes flick upwards to your face, the hardness in them a simple warning. “yeah, i understand.”

satoru’s drawing hearts and letters on your clit, each one making you shudder more than the last. each drag of his tongue makes him moan as he takes in more of your taste. beside him, suguru’s dips his tongue between your folds, the sensation nothing more than a tease. they plan to split you open on their cocks, and getting you desperate for it is only the first step of their plan.

“ngh, t-that’s so fucking good,” you cry, thighs quaking on either side of their heads. “please, i’m gonna cum.”

“give it to us,” satoru is the first to speak, his voice clear as it cuts through the lewd sounds in the air. he’s got one hand on the side of your thigh, holding you open just for them. “on our tongues, like a good girl.”

satoru’s ministrations on your clit grow more insistent; he’s working to pull your orgasm from you, while suguru continues to slurp at your messy pussy, his eyes falling shut. a familiar and overwhelming sensation coils in your tummy; it’s one that has your hands flying to both suguru and satoru’s heads, fingers finding purchase in their hair.

“i—i think ‘m gonna cum,” you cry, back arching off the bed while your hips jolt forward into their faces. after hearing the first word of your delirious warning, satoru replaced his tongue with his finger and moved beside suguru, the two of them slurping all your cunt has to offer. to them, it’s like drinking ambrosia.

you’re pulling hard at their hair, only encouraging them to groan against you. suguru speaks, eyes rolling back from just a little hair pulling. but it makes sense, with hair like that. of course his scalp is very sensitive.

“cover us in your cum, baby.”

obedient and right on time, your pussy gushes, hole fluttering around nothing while your clit throbs beneath satoru’s finger. the intense orgasm has left you twitching from the aftershocks, gasping for breath, and overly sensitive. of course, satoru and suguru take advantage of the aforementioned sensitivity with smirks on their faces.

“no, wait, i-i just came,” is all you can sob, your hands smacked away once you try to tug them off your aching cunt. “satoruuu, suguruuu.”

suguru only laughs, mimicking your tone with a roll of his eyes. “aw, babyyy. that’s too bad, isn’t it?”

with how sensitive you are, it’s not hard for them to drag a second orgasm out of you. this time, a few tears cascade down your cheeks as you fall over the edge with a pitched cry. satoru spanks your still twitching cunt and laughs at the way you gasp and recoil, legs still trembling.

“suguru, whatcha think? you wanna take her mouth ‘n i’ll fuck her pussy?”

“that’s far too considerate, satoru.” he shakes his head, talking about you as if you’re not in front of them. “c’mon,” suguru purrs, gesturing for you to get up as he slips off his robe and boxers. “lie on top of me.”

you can’t help but ogle, a little starstruck by his body and the thrill of everything. he sticks out his tongue playfully when he notices you staring, the metal ball in his tongue gleaming. his abs flex and his cock bobs as he lays down on your bed, beckoning you over with a gloved finger. satoru gulps, panting softly at the sight. following his best friend’s lead, he slips off his matching clothing and mounts the bed, which sinks under his weight with a creak. part of you wonders if the bed frame will give out by the end of this.

“hand me the lube,” suguru grunts, catching the small bottle in his larger hand. the liquid is cool, even through the leather of his gloves. he rubs his fingers together to warm it up a little for you. his fingertips prod at the tight ring of your asshole, and you let out a squeak of surprise.

“c’mon. relax for me, doll.”

you take a breath, body sweltering with arousal. this is certainly new for you, but you don’t complain—and anyway, the slight coolness of the lube feels good against your hot skin. satoru bites down on his lower lip as he watches his best friend prep you to take both of their cocks at the same time. something wicked has the corners of his lips curling up into a smile as he pictures you screaming for them.

likely picturing the same thing, suguru tongues at your jaw, kissing the tender skin wetly before nipping hard. you can only cry out, his lips serving as a simple distraction while his fingers push inside and stretch you out.

you gasp, and he feels you squeeze down hard on his fingers, hips jerking away. “come now, don’t run from it,” suguru coos, twisting his body beneath you to angle you the right way again. he ignores your whining, and satoru silently strokes his cock to the sight. “i know, i know. just breathe for me, ‘kay?”

slowly, your body accommodates the new stretch without any more sting or discomfort. in fact, your hips begin to rock into his fingers, chasing them when he starts to pull out.

“i-i think she’s ready, suguru,” satoru finally speaks up, clearing his throat. his voice is a little choked, and you can clearly see the flush on his cheeks even in the dark. “for both of us.”

“you hear that, honey?” his warm breath fans over the shell of your ear, making you shudder against him. “let’s see who can make you scream the loudest—me or satoru.”

“as if,” the man in question huffs, pushing your thigh to the side and looking over your dripping pussy with an obvious hunger. “fuck, baby. i’m gonna ruin you.”

with that, satoru grasps his cock and guides it inside your needy cunt. suguru does the same, pushing his length into your ass. the three of you moan collectively, a harmony if ever there was one. you sob, tears burning at the corners of your eyes from the intensity of the stretch.

satoru grits his teeth and grips your hips for support, then pushes all the way inside you. he bottoms out easily, his cock sliding against suguru’s, separated only by a thin layer of tissue. so thin that they can feel the shape of one another’s cocks through you.

“fuckin’—shittt, oh my god,” satoru’s easily overwhelmed, heart pounding in his ears while sweat covers his entire body in a sticky sheen.

suguru bites your neck hard, but the pain registers as pleasure despite the fact that he tastes a few irony drops of blood on his tongue.

“do either of you plan to move?” you complain, lips parting in an ‘o’ shape around a whiny moan. “or are we just gonna sit here—”

“shut the fuck up,” suguru groans, clapping a dry and gloved hand over your tits before squeezing them. “we’ll move when we fucking feel like it.”

waves of almost euphoria wash over your entire body, leaving you breathless and panting. when you’d first met these two, you’d been sharp and aware of your surroundings, but now everything is hazy and your body burns as though you have a fever.

the bed creaks dangerously as satoru jumps into action, slowly rocking his hips into yours with a few choked, wanton moans. before long, he’s more confident, fucking into you with a tight grip on your skin and at an invigorated pace. you’re so hot and oh so tight—satoru fucking loves it—you feel perfect. he loves the way you squirm on top of his best friend, hips canting forward eagerly to meet his. the evidence of how good he’s making you feel is painted all over your face, apparent in the wobble of your lower lip and the tears in your eyes.

you hear a sigh from behind you. “can’t lose the bet,” suguru’s voice is laced with faux sympathy. it takes him a few seconds, but he finally starts moving, groaning in approval at the shake of your body and gasping, ragged breaths.

above you, sweat rolls down satoru’s face, the snowy tips of his hair sticking to his forehead while others fall in front of his eyes. “y-you like it like this, baby?” the question is rhetorical, but your whimpering tells him everything he needs to know. the corners of his lips curl into a smile that’s soon wiped away by overwhelming pleasure. “you’re taking us so fuckin’ well, sweetheart . . driving me insane, goddamn.”

“i second that,” the metal ball of suguru’s piercing clicks as he sweeps his tongue over his teeth, panting hard into your ear. “really, baby . . feel like the luckiest fuckin’ guy in the world right now, heh.”

as if you’re not the luckiest girl—being sandwiched between these two is a dream you didn’t even know you had. inside you, their cocks throb against one another, dragging in and out of your holes ruthlessly. the tempo only speeds up, becoming too much too quickly.

you nudge a weak, clammy hand against satoru’s waist, arching your back on top of suguru and nearly nailing him in the face with a reverse headbutt. before the latter can say anything, satoru snatches your hand and intertwines your fingers with his, then pins it down to the bed. he advances forward, his chest now against yours to keep you still.

“ah ah,” he tuts, his nipples hard as they press against yours, “move your damn hand, baby. this is what you wanted, remember?”

“i certainly do,” suguru titters, nipping at your earlobe. “don’t be like that. you can take it, can’t you?”

his words are convincing; he’s got you nodding in acceptance. he’s right, of course. this is what you wanted earlier—you’ve been taking both of their cocks so fucking well. just as you tell yourself you’ll make it through this, satoru’s fingers ghost along the soft skin of your stomach. despite the exhaustion that’s setting into his body, his hips don’t even stutter as he focuses on your swollen clit.

“oh . . oh my god,” the words are torn from your throat, which only grows more sore with all the noise you can’t seem to stop making. a familiar shakiness settles in your voice, and you’re fighting to keep the breath in your lungs, but it escapes you far too easily. “i’m-‘m gonna cum for you, ‘m—”

as you hurtle closer to all encompassing euphoria, the sounds of skin slapping against skin fade out and grow foggy. yet, you manage to hear their voices eagerly spurring you on, the two of them in the same boat as you.

“yeah, ‘s right. fuckin’ cum for us, baby.” satoru’s own orgasm creeps up on him, his head tipping back as your pussy starts to flutter around his cock. of course, suguru can feel the throbbing of his best friend’s cock and the quavering of your needy pussy. he releases your tits, seeing the bruising he’s left before squeezing his eyes shut in concentration.

“ya heard him, honey,” he utters after a long groan, his voice low and husky. “take all of our fucking cum.” you gasp out, nodding your head frantically as you teeter over the edge.

everything happens fast, and all at the same time. satoru cums inside you, his broad shoulders shaking as he rides it out while your pussy practically milks him for more. your cunt spasms, hips jerking upwards from the intensity of it. the movement pushes out suguru, his cum leaking out of your bruised ass and spilling in white puddles on his pelvis.

satoru looks down, biting down on his lower lip as he pulls his cock from you. this is quite the reward, seeing cum pour from both of your spent and twitching holes. your shuddering, sweltering body finally begins to cool after what feels like hours. suguru’s exhausted, but he kindly lifts you and lays you down on the bed beside him. satoru flops down beside you with a heaving sigh, only to lay on the knife from earlier.

“ow, fuck!” he jolts, sitting up and tugging the sharp blade from where it’s tangled in the sheets. he unceremoniously hurls it to the floor, laying back down with a vengeful huff.

you’re too tired to laugh, but a small smile plays on your lips. “do you still wanna kill me?”

“not right now,” suguru throws an arm over his face, gesturing in the direction of the floor. “the knife’s down there, anyway.”

you sit up, craning your neck to take a look. from what you can see, the floor is littered with their dark costumes and two masks, the knife completely out of sight. “i don’t see it.”

“hm, remember we talked about making you scream for us?” satoru speaks up, and in your dizzy haze, you don’t notice that glint in his eyes.

“uh, yeah, i think so? i thought you already did.”

“don’t you watch scary movies?” suguru scoffs, looking at you from beneath his forearm. “you should know what happens next.”

you laugh, rolling your eyes. “yeah, whatever. what happens next, you kill me? very funny. let me convince you again,” and you clear your throat. “no, please don’t kill me, mr. ghostface! i wanna be in the sequel!”

satoru simply shakes his head, and the knife plunges into your back. with a gasp, you sputter out a few garbled words, blood pouring down your bare back as you fall backwards onto the bed. you writhe on the mussed sheets, blood spilling from your lips and trickling down your chin in vermillion rivulets. beside you, the blood covered suguru and satoru let you struggle aimlessly until your body stills; then they slip their masks on again . .

“andddd cut!” the director jumps from his seat with proud claps, and the production assistants rush in from every direction to help clean up the mess.

“satoru, fuck! that knife was so sharp,” you sit up, sending a glare his way as you wipe the fake blood off your skin. despite being a fake knife, the shiny plastic point was rather jagged.

“excellent performances, the three of you! our halloween special is sure to be a hit!” the director is gushing as he praises the three of you.

“yeah, yeah,” suguru says, his cheeks flushed a rosy pink. “i’ve gotta take a shower. seriously, the corn syrup is so fucking sticky.”

[devotedsweetheart]

・❥ CALEB'S FAVORITE TOYS !

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ rundown :: the top 3 toys i think caleb would use on himself / reader! (based on this ask)

a/n :: tysm for the wonderful individual for putting this idea in my headdd!!! mwamwa

1. FLESHLIGHT :: just like anon said, he is most DEFINITELY using a fleshlight and pretending it's us instead. he typically doesn't like to masturbate without you so usually he'll only do it if you ask him to during mutual masturbation, but some nights, he's just so desperate for something - anything - to touch his disgustingly needy dick that he can't help it. don't fret, though, cause he will always ask you if he can touch himself if you're not there. sending you voice notes of himself begging, videos of his cock twitching into his hand, pics of tears rolling down his face... he'll put a whole show on for you just to get your approval to do so little as go near the toy. and while he really does feel bad for doing something so naughty without you in his presence, once that fleshlight is in his hands... hes not stopping. his eyes are shut tight, head pushed deep into the pillows, back arched, hips stuttering, knuckles turning white from the force of his grip on the sheets.. it just feels so damn good! unapologetic whimpers and moans come in between his cries of your name, his last bit of strength practically disintegrated. when he's about to cum, he'll either spam your phone with tons of facetime calls or messily set up is phone to record, feeling obligated to show you how good he makes himself feel thinking about you.

2. COCKRINGS :: okay, hear me out. he absolutely despises cockrings with a passion.. but only because you bring it out when he needs to be punished. he actually quite likes the concerning amount of pleasure that they bring him, he just hates that every time he uses one is when hes being edged or overstimulated. there are rare occasions that you allow him to use it during his personal time, but theres a very big emphasis on rare. you have only one ring for him that vibrates, while all the others are just there to stop him from cumming whenever he feels like he might. it's pathetic how desperate he gets when he's begging for you to take it off. big crocodile tears stream down his face as his stupid little cock twitches and thrashes against your hand, brain turned to mush. literally all he could think about is good it'd feel to cum, how sexy you are when you deny him... it's so bad to the point where quite literally nothing could stop him from cumming. he didnt even ask for fucks sake!! he doesn't realize how much more trouble he just got in for orgasming when he was explicitly told not to.. :(

3. VIBRATORS :: caleb is for sure a sucker for a good vibrator. he doesnt just use it on himself (..his tip) , no, hes not that selfish. he adores keeping it on your clit while he pounds into you in missionary, or even letting you sit in between his legs, your back to his chest, torturing your bud of nerves with that delicious sensation. he'd have you in a headlock, not allowing you to shy away from the toy if it becomes too much; his legs hooking around your calves to get your legs to stay open. he cannot have you be anything but spread open, that just isn't allowed!! on another note, he would without a doubt buy a bunch of those little tiny vibrators that fit perfectly onto your clit & into your panties that are controlled by an app on his phone. he loves taking you to a restaurant just to play with you, watching you fall apart in front of everyone knowing he'll be punished heavily for it. he doesn't care about the consequences.... in the moment. once you two are finally home it's then that he begins to really care. it was all fun and games until you have him tied up, sprawled out in a star position on the bed, fighting against the restraints as you abuse his most sensitive parts with your own vibrator. your panties would be shoved into his mouth, drool dripping from the corner of his lips down his face. he's literally on the verge of passing out because of how many times he's came, his eyes basically permanently crossed and eyebrows furrowed tight. you don't stop until the toy dies... and caleb does too.

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - bad intentions

warnings ; nsfw (18+!!!!!!), unprotected sex

prompt ; in which a TikTok edit sparks a desire to get absolutely destroyed by your boyfriend.

note ; hey… heyyyy *opens door* um idk what this is but I’m back with a new fandom and this random piece of writing. this is my formal request to join the bts fandom pls xoxo i promise im fun and can write hellish smut

It’s cruel that you live with someone as attractive as your boyfriend.

It’s even more evil that the world posts TikTok edits of your boyfriend to seductive songs that make your underwear soak through with arousal.

All that to say, you’re not really making your life any easier by watching every single one that stumbles across your For You Page.

You have been better. It was a slow Sunday: one where your boyfriend sits perched on your shared living room couch, mindlessly playing with his lip ring as he watches some Netflix show. It’s nice having him like this, all for you, in a space you two built for yourselves. But you, you’re in the bedroom, aimlessly scrolling through an app that has taken up more than enough of your time and perfectly curated content about your boyfriend and this silly little band he’s in.

But it’s when, and only when, you stumble across an edit of your boyfriend to a The Weeknd song, that you shoot up in your bed, blink rapidly, inhale a sharp breath. Your heart catches in your throat, does that stupid little flutter thing. And then.. the clench that follows down below. You replay it once, twice… a third time.

Don’t be weird. Do not be thirsty.

But, he is yours. That much, you do know.

You close the app, delete the page off your phone. It’s not like you two have a boring sex life, he takes care of you and you never feel dissatisfied. In fact it’s rather the opposite. This one time being two nights ago when he had your legs up on… never mind. You look at your black phone screen in disgust. Do not be a horny little freak.

Well, one last look at the edit won’t hurt.

You go back to the fan edit. Glance at it, slap your hand over your face, peek through your middle and ring finger. Fuck.

The arousal that had pooled before in your underwear was now a full-on ocean. Really, you should have more decorum than this. You don’t really want to bother Jungkook, he’s had a busy week with the boys… but it also has been two days since you two have had sex.

Fuck it.

You swing your legs off the bed, shuffle down the hallway of your apartment. You spot your boyfriend lounging on the couch, his back to you. Even from where you stand, you can see his build, his biceps.. Gosh. You sound like a hormonal teenage girl.

You creep up behind him, wrap your arms around his neck and press a few sloppy kisses down it. His hand flies up to caress your arm that’s hung around his neck, a little laugh leaving his mouth, “Well, hello to you too.”

You decide then and there in that moment: You’re going to die if you don’t have him. Maybe that’s a little dramatic, but you’ve lost all strength.

“Hi,” your voice is frail, weak even, as you kiss along his jaw. He sucks in a deep breaths, fingers drawing circles on your arm. His eyes are glued to the television screen like if he looks anywhere else, he might combust.

You detach your arms from around him, moving to the front, blocking his perfect view of the screen. He looks up at you with those doe eyes you love so damn much. One look at you and he gathers quickly there will be no more watching of television.

With little words, you straddle him, knees on either side of his thighs. Jungkook feels up your thighs, smirks a little, “What did I do to earn this right now?”

You are well aware of how needy and desperate you look right now, but that doesn’t matter. You let out a little sigh, pushing your lips onto his. For some reason, you feel like some little fangirl who is hooking up with her celebrity crush. The cold metal from his lip ring is a welcomed feeling, and you place your hands on his neck, feeling the structure and heat of his skin. God, you are going to cum just from this kiss if you keep it up.

Pulling away a little, you look into his eyes, “Nothing specifically… I just…”

You sigh, go back in to kissing him again. Those plump pink lips of his work against yours, shivers running down your spine as he runs his hands up and down your bare thighs. “Just what, baby?” He speaks in a low tone in between the incessant kissing.

“I’m so fucking horny,” You admit.

Upon the minute those words leave his mouth, you feel his cock begin to press against your inner thigh. You’ve got him right where you want him. And it’s not that this isn’t normal; it is. But you’ve essentially offered yourself up to him on a silver platter and the act of desperation you got going on right now is really doing it for him.

“Hmm?” He hums against your lips, his hands roaming underneath your shirt to trace your spine. And you could marry him right now for being so quick to go along with it. For not pushing you, for letting you set the pace.

You start to grind yourself down on him, the wetness soaking through your pajama shorts you have on. It is criminal how much you need this man inside of you, now. “What do you need from me, baby?” He starts to kiss down your neck as light whimpers exit your throat from the friction of your shorts on his grey sweatpants.

“N-nothing,” You exhale out. “Let me ride you.”

“Fuck.” He groans out.

“You need me that bad?” He brushes a strand of hair off your shoulder, kisses down your supple skin.

“Yes, please,” Your voice cracks. You can’t take it anymore; you think you might combust into a million little pieces.

“Well, go on, my love,” He removes his lips from your skin, smirks, sits back against the couch. “Have me.”

He does not need to tell you twice. There’s no time for pleasantries.

You move your legs off his, lower down his sweatpants enough for you to be able to access his boxers. Your shorts get abandoned next, leaving the underwear on; there’s not a single shred of a fuck left in you.

Jungkook is sat there, an amused look plastered on his face, mixed with a level of adoration you are not sure you have seen before. His arms have moved, now splayed out across the top of the couch, his biceps flexing. You straddle him again, remove his throbbing cock from the confines of his boxers.

Fuck, if you weren’t so ready for him, you would’ve taken him into your mouth.. but your brain decides pretty quickly there’s no time to waste.

You push your panties to the side, rub your juices over his length. He lets out a little moan at that, watches you eagerly get ready to take him whole.

With a gasp, you align him to your entrance in search of relief. You engulf him, take him in inch by inch until you bottom out. Honestly, you could unravel just from that. “Holy fuck, baby,” His head falls back, eyes still glued to the sight of you fully taking him to the brim.

You never really do get used to how big he is; when you two first started dating, he stretched you out so wide you were certain you would never recover. Your bottom lip is sucked in between your top teeth, rushed exhales leaving your body as you slowly begin to move, begin to gyrate your hips and lift yourself up and down on his pulsing cock. “Oh my god,” You breathe out, hands moving to his broad chest, gripping onto him to steady yourself

He’s not doing much, besides just watching you in complete and utter awe, and yet that still takes your breath away.

“You look so unbelievably sexy right now,” He says, barely even realizing the words leave his mouth, since they were mostly meant for his inner thoughts. His hands come around to land on your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing into the bone. There will definitely be a bruise there tomorrow.

You lull your head back, close your eyes tight. It’s all you can do to try and keep yourself together. You’re an absolute mess right now; pussy squelching with each stroke, his cock a mix of yours and his arousal. The only sounds that can be heard in the apartment are the slapping of skin and the moans that continually leave both of your mouths. “[Y/N]…” He moans out. You look at him, deep in those eyes that you love so much.

And there’s such… desire on his face, his pupils blown wide, his jaw slack.

He’s so undeniably hungry for you, and it’s going to kill you.

You speed up your bounces, losing a little more control with each and every passing moment. Your arms snake around his neck, pull him even closer to you. “Fuck, I am so close,” You whisper out, mostly to calm yourself down.

“Yeah?” Is the only word he can muster right now. “Need you to cum for me. Want to make sure you’re taken care of.”

It is all so filthy — the sounds, the look he’s giving you, the way your nails are digging into the flesh of his neck and leaving marks. Your half-lidded eyes meet his, gaze dropping down to his lips. You press a few sloppy kisses on them.

“You like this, hmm?” he asks, fingers digging even deeper into your hip bones that you’re certain he is leaving an imprint on your skull. “Having me like this ready for you? Does that get you off?”

His words elicit a clench around his cock, your walls tightening around him. He is absolutely correct. He knows he’s hit the mark. “Talk to me.” His tone is soft but threatening.

“Y-yes, it does. Oh my god, Kook..” you can barely think, any singular thought beside how incredible his cock feels inside you, how you can feel him penetrate your stomach with his entire length. “I’m gonna cum.”

It’s so close, it’s teetering on the edge. Every nerve ending in your body craves him to a point where you wonder if you need to be institutionalized. All you can see is that stupid edit made by that fan flash across your head, your brain unable to comprehend that that is the man you currently have inside of you. “Cum for me, darling..” He coos.

It nearly wrecks you, this orgasm. It washes over your entire being and you’re so loud you’re certain your neighbors will come knocking down your door. Your bounces go from focused to frantic, hips gyrating wildly, and he wraps an arm around your entire waist, picking you up lightly. He begins thrusting into you at a shallow, quick pace, chasing after his own release. Jungkook lets out a few grunts, eyes trained on the sight in front of him; and then he shudders, his cock throbs inside of you, head falling onto your shoulder as he feels himself empty out inside of you. You’re struggling to catch your breath, gripping onto the hair at the nape of his neck.

“My god..” You breathe out. You’re still sitting on him, cock warm inside you as he lifts his head from your shoulder, meets your fucked-out face.

“Baby, that was so incredibly hot, you have no idea,” His face is flushed, hand reaching up to caress your cheek. You entwine your arms and legs around him, holding him close, drawing him deeper into you. You stay there, hearts pounding in unison, as if they're each trying to break free from your chests, desperate to draw nearer. And still, even in this perfect closeness, you long to feel him even closer.

“Mhmm,” You hum out, quite content with yourself. You press a soft kiss to his lips.

“So… care to share what made you jump my bones?” He teases, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Oh, nothing…” You act coy, but the heat creeps onto your face regardless. He pokes your side, eliciting a giggle from you that has you folding like origami.

“Maybe… just saw a little something on TikTok..” You trace circles on his collarbone, avoiding his gaze.

“Continue.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Some girl made an edit of you..” It’s low when it leaves your mouth, he can barely hear it. “Just wanted to remind myself I can have you.. whenever I like.”

You bury your face into his neck in sheer embarrassment, feeling warmth and the vibration as he chuckles. “You can have me whenever. I’m yours, baby.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

[scorpiosbite]

when actress!reader and drew made it official

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── after casually seeing each other for a few months after that first hook up after the club and then going on that first date, you and drew finally make it official.

𝜗𝜚 pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey

author’s note: this takes place in october 2024, at this point actress!reader and drew have been seeing each other casually for a few months, after their hook up and subsequent date in LA. actress!reader is currently in the midst of filming Anora.

you were holed up in your LA home that you were renting while living LA for the filming of your new movie Anora. it was your day off and you were going to spend it rotting at home and swimming in your pool. you’re a big homebody, although people assumed that you were someone who was always going out, you weren’t, going out for non-work related reasons was a rare occurrence. it’s not like you don’t enjoy going out, you do. but going to clubs and parties was something that you enjoyed once in a while, for special occasions and with the right people. and if you were being honest it got repetitive. going to parties, getting drunk, surrounded by people you don’t know or care about. you would much rather spend your time at home and be able to truly be yourself. you were sinking further and further into the plush couch in your living room, your book propped on your knees. when your phone rang.

drew calling…. accept?

you smiled lightly at the sight of his name lighting up your screen, you let it ring for a beat before you answered, wanting to torture him for a bit. “hey.” the greeting came out like a sigh, almost as if the thought of him relaxes your mind and body. “hey, baby.” you grinned and your cheeks flushed at the low tone of his voice, god everything about him was sexy, and you could see the smirk dancing on his lips through the phone, like he could feel the effect he has on you. “what are you doing today, pretty girl?” you hummed glancing at the time on the clock, ten am. “nothing ‘m just gonna chill at home, maybe go swimming, weather’s nice in LA.” drew chuckled, a low rumble, that sent shivers up your spine. “not like london, huh?” you giggled lightly, “yea, not like london.” drew made a noise of agreement. “you mind if i come over?” your fingers played with the band of your shorts. “what if i say, yes, i do mind?” drew snorted, you could hear him shuffling in his seat. “i’m just gonna come over anyway.” you rolled your eyes, playfully. “creep.” you retort, and he laughed, a sound that came from his chest and made your heart jump. “i’ll be there in ten, baby.” you bit your bottom lip in anticipation. “mhmm hmm.”

you were still laid up on the couch, reading your book when your doorbell rang, you smiled before making your way to the door, pulling it open. drew stood in the frame, dressed in a plain white t-shirt and baggy black cargo pants, his buzzed hair now grown out in a baby mullet, fuck he looked good. his hands were locked behind his back and he gave you a crooked smile, his tongue pushing into his cheek, and his cheeks turning a light shade of pink as he gave you a once over. suddenly you were reminded of your lack of clothing and you felt you face heat up in turn. drew’s eyes raked over you, running over your tight black boy shorts with a cute little bow on the front and then your black bandeau top with the little matching bow on the middle of the upper hem. after what felt like eternity, you cleared your throat. “you wanna keep looking at me, or come in?” drew smirked, unashamed of being caught staring, well it wasn’t like he was trying to be subtle. “hello, to you too, y/n.” he teased in a slightly sarcastic tone. you rolled your eyes at him, but couldn’t fight the smile that creeped onto your face. you led him to your living room, his eyes unabashedly staring at your ass while you walked, and you may have purposely swung your hips a little more than usual for him.

now, you and drew were laid up on your couch together, he sat with his legs spread, his arms resting on the top of the couch, you were laying against his side, you head rest on his shoulder, and your knees bent, toes brushing against the side of his thigh. drew’s hand came down to play with your hair and you snuggled your face closer into him. “how was filming yesterday?” you sighed “long, i had a lot of pole dancing scenes to film.” drew leaned his head back, letting out a groan. “why would you tell me that?” you chuckled, you had noticed this effect you had on him, and adored using it to your advantage. deciding to make it way worse you turned your head, so that you could whisper directly into his ear. “they had me dressed in barely anything, drew.” you whined, he shot up, picking you up with ease and throwing you over his shoulder. “that’s it. we’re going swimming.” you giggled loudly, punching his back, and kicking your feet as he walked to your room.

spending time with drew felt effortless, everything about him set your mind to ease and your heart ablaze. just like now, when he lounged on your bed in a pair of swim trunks you had found, while you changed into your bikini in the walk-in closet. drew’s eyes widened as you came into view, the white bikini leaving basically nothing to imagination. not that it mattered, drew had seen everything anyway. he sat up spreading his legs apart, and you stepped into the space. drew’s hands came up to your bare legs, caressing the flesh. your hands came up to his hair. stroking the strands, pushing them back from his face. drew hummed “i can’t believe you’re real.” you smiled at him. “thanks, pretty.” drew made a face, tugging you onto his lap so that you sat sideways across his thigh. “shouldn’t i be calling you pretty?” he stroked your thighs with his large hand. “ok, what should i say? yea, you’re well fit, lad.” you exaggerated your accent. he laughed “yea, alright, let’s just get in the pool?”

you were sat on the edge, your legs submerged in the cool water. the heavy LA sun was beating down on your back. but the heat wasn’t bothering you like it usually would, not when the shirtless man wading through your pool is the sexiest man you’ve ever seen. you laughed loudly as drew splashed and you aggressively kicked your legs in attempt to splash him back. drew grabbed you by the waist and lifted you from where you were sat. you wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. marvin gaye’s distant lover blaring loudly from the speakers. the two of you didn’t feel the need to speak to each other. simply enjoying each other’s presence in the cool water. drew’s hands stroking your back in comforting circles. you couldn’t help yourself from placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. he smiled at the gesture. a heartbreaking smile that only confirmed your growing feelings for him. he returned the gesture with a soft peck to your chin.

now the two of you sat on the couch in your patio. sunglasses perched on your noses, sharing a marlboro red. drew was quiet, deep in thought with serious look on his face, but you didn’t bother him, knowing that he would bring it up to you himself. the smoke wafted into the air as you handed him the cigarette for one last drag before he put it out on the ashtray that sat next to him on the couch. you sighed leaning your head onto his shoulder, his hand tangled in your wet hair. your legs bent up on the couch, his spread. “i wanna say something.” you turned your head so that you look up at him without lifting from your place on his shoulder. he really is so pretty. “i know it’s still early, and that you’re going back to london once you’re done filming, but this—today—actually, any time i spend with you is the happiest i’ve felt in my life. and i want to be able to be how we were today everyday, in front of everyone. i don’t want to hide what i feel for you. and if you don’t feel the same that’s ok, i just want you to know that i’ve never felt like this before, these past few months have shown me how good we are together.”

you smiled he was so sweet and so nervous and you thought it wouldn’t be long before you would fall in love with him, or maybe you already have, “i want that too, drew.” his cheeks were pink and he stared down at you with those cerulean eyes, filled with hope and adoration and your heart stirred. “yea?” his voice was low and shaky, like you held his heart in your hands, bared and beating, just for you. “yea.” you brought your hand to his face, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. he nodded as his eyes rushed between your eyes and lips before he crashed his lips with yours. the kiss was messy like he was conveying every emotion he had kept pent up, in fear that you wouldn’t feel the same. but now that he knew you did, there was no need to hide anymore.

TAGLIST: @sunnybunnyy2 @percysley @wearemadeofstardust0 @idgasb @pinkpantheris @emmaaas-posts @grace-sully @chimmysoftpaws @angvl3tears @josephandrewstarkey

i’m back!!!! i’ve been overseas and literally got back today and wanted to get back to it so here’s this one for you guys. also i’m in the midst of updating my tag list so bare with me, and as always hope you enjoyed!! xx