#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

[theashemarie]

i’m struggling so much with burnout. i’m exhausted all the time and have trouble talking in the evenings and i don’t have energy to write x_x updates will be sparse 🙏🏼 just wanted to check in bc i know i’ve been MIA

[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

[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!!!!

[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.”

[evie-sturns]

21 - Chris Sturniolo

summary: when you recieve a unusual call from chris, you realise he’s got blackout drunk on his 21st birthday. you’re forced to go pick him up and take care of him in his interesting state..

contains: fluff, mentions of alcohol, bestfriend!chris, mentions of throwing up (no detail whatsoever), a lot of chaos

————————————🔸————————————

11:36pm

i yawn as i shuffle around in bed, my warm covers wrapped around me as i scroll through instagram,

suddenly my phone starts to ring,

‘incoming call from ‘chrizzzzyy’

i pick up the phone, pressing it to my ear as chris instantly starts,

“you know you’re so beautiful, like soo gorgeous.” he mumbles into the phone, his words slurred.

there’s faint chatter in the background, along with heavy music.

“chris? you okay?” i ask, my eyebrows knitting together with confusion.

“i need you- like how a baby bird needs its mama” he groans, followed by a loud laugh.

i giggle, “chris what is wrong with you!”

the realisation hits.

chris turned 21 today, i couldn’t make it to his party due to work, but for fucks sake, this kid is drunk.

“oh my god- chris you got drunk? i thought you said you wouldn’t!” i say frantically,

“uh factually i am not drunk- i think you’ll find.” he fumbles over his words,

“can you come.” he follows up.

i scoff, “christopher- it is midnight, where are you?”

he pauses for a moment, before i hear him chatter to someone else,

“yo- where am i, my girl wants to know” he mumbles to a friend i assume,

he shortly gets back to me “i’m at home, but i want to be at your home.”

i nod with a small huff, “god, i’ll come get you now, just wait on the curb and don’t go on the road whatever you do.”

he almost giggles, “you sound like my mommy.”

i groan before hanging up,

i heave myself out of bed, knowing i’m about to have to collect my best friend in his state.

i grab my keys and fix my hair before walking downstairs, creaking open the door.

the cold night hair hits me hard, i shiver as i jog up to my car, swinging open the car door.

i instantly speed off down the street.

-

10 minutes later i arrive at his street, the pebbles crunch under my tires as i slowly drive to his house.

chris shoots up from his sat position on the side walk, giving me a huge grin.

i pull up beside him, reaching over and opening the door.

“hey baby.” he grins, flopping down in the passenger seat,

“chris.” i warn, reaching over and buckling him in.

“how much have you had to drink?” i ask, looking over at him.

he hesitates before shrugging, “shit- ‘prolly like 20 or something.”

i pause, “20 of what.”

he shrugs again, “couldn’t tell ya sweet cheeks.”

i throw my head back, with a small laugh.

“come- come sit on my lap” he grins, his eyes half shut, patting his lap.

“chris! i am not your girlfriend.” i remind him, his face drops

“you’re- you’re breaking up with me!?” he raises his voice

“we were never dating” i point out, his eyes water.

“are you seriously gonna cry?” i laugh,

he nods with a small pout, “my girl, my one and only is dumping me-“

i lean over the centre console and give him a hug,

i hold back laughs as i pull out my phone, putting it on 0.5x and holding it up.

“tell me what’s wrong chris.” i grin,

“you- you’re breaking up with me!” his words are slurred as he throws a mini tantrum.

“you’re my babe, my hot little babe.” he sighs,

“oh my god chris”. i laugh, putting my phone down and starting the car,

i roll down the windows for him as i attempt to explain that fact that i am NOT his girlfriend, and never had been.

he sits up on his knees and attempts to make a break for it out the window, he sticks his arms and head out the window.

i reach over and grab his shirt, pulling him back in before rolling up the window

“chris! no!”

he mumbles something vaguely before looking over at me,

“we hooking up tonight right?” he blurts out so causally.

“shit i bet you could give me the best-“ he starts but i clamp a hand over his mouth.

“chris.. anything you say tonight you will regret.” i warn him with a smile.

“but- but you’re so pretty!” he protests,

i pull into my driveway, hopping out the car before walking over to chris’s side.

i open the door and he jumps out, stumbling over onto the grass.

“oh no chris.” i sigh, grabbing his underarms and picking him up.

he wraps his legs around my lower back and burys his head into my shoulder.

i carry him up the driveway with small huffs,

i fiddle with my keys before unlocking the door, chris is practically a koala bear, clinging to me as i heave us upstairs.

i finally enter my room before dropping him on the bed.

i switch on the light and take a good look at him,

“like what you seee.” he grins with a stupid lip bite,

he looks white as a sheet, my eyes widen as i grab his hand.

i run him into the bathroom.

“i’m gonna throw up.” he mumbles,

“oh god oh god.” i whine, helping him into the shower.

i stand outside the shower as i frantically try to unbutton his shirt, pulling it off of him.

i unbuckle his belt and tug it off, discarding it out the bathroom floor.

i unbutton his shorts for him, guiding them down his legs, leaving him in his boxers.

“look- you get your boxers off and just try not to throw up for another minute.”

he giggles as he tugs his boxers down, i slide the shower curtain across and take a deep breath as i sit on the toilet lid.

he reaches a hand out of the shower curtain, holding his boxers.

“just drop them i’m not touching that.” i groan,

he drops them in the pile of clothes before i hear a small-

“oh shit.”

i reach into the shower and turn it on cold, trying to drown out the sounds of chris..

i hear some deep breaths from behind the curtain,

“y/n!!!! i threw up!!!” he calls out,

“that’s okay! just get clean in the shower for me!” i tell him,

he sounds panicked, “hey, the alcohol is better out then in sweetie.” i tell him,

he laughs in response, “you’re righhhtt!”

i scoff, waiting for him to finish up,

my eyes widen as chris goes silent, “chris! you better not be peeing in my shower i swear to god-“ i start but he cuts me off with a loud giggle.

i throw my head into my hands,

“oopsie daisy’s.” he doesn’t stop laughing.

-

after 45 minutes of chris yapping my ear off, i finally got him changed and in my bed.

“and then guess what he said, he said that he was gonna fight me if i didn’t give him my drink, like just admit you’re a alcoholic!” he rambles on about his night.

“lay down for me.” i tell him as he sits on my matress.

he flops down on my mattress, his head hitting the pillow.

i lean over the bed and tug up the covers over him.

i move his hair off his forehead with my hand then place a kiss to his forehead.

he yawns loudly before whining,

“where are you going!”

i scoff, “i’m gonna sleep on the couch chris.”

he huffs, “but we sleep together all the time!”

i roll my eyes, “that’s when there’s no risk of you throwing up on me”

he kicks his legs, “i promise i won’t!”

i hesitate before giving in, jumping into bed beside him.

he smiles stupidly before wrapping his arms around me, tugging me into his side.

i usually wouldn’t let him cuddling me slide, but i guess he’s not gonna remember it tomorrow.

-

10:23am

i stir awake, chris’s arms still wrapped right around my waist.

he groans, waking up aswell.

“why am i cuddling you” he laughs tiredly,

“do you remember anything that happened last night?” i ask, sitting up in bed.

“not really.” he smiles, rubbing his eyes.

i reach over him and grab my phone, opening up the camera roll.

“you had a long love confession to me.” i giggle, his face drops.

“what?” he asks panicked, i give him my phone

he presses play, letting the video play outloud.

“you’re breaking up with me!? you’re my babe, my hot little babe”

-

@jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover r @nathando-64 esgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 9 9 @sturnthepot t t @zayyluvz z z @realuvrrr r r @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs s @riowritesitall l @raysmayhem-72 @sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver r @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney y @lovingchrissposts @333michelle e @h3arts4harry y @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees enxtrees @certifiednatelover r r @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast t t @yomamaslays4lyfe e @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 9 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc c c @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz z 0 @ratatioulle @sturnsforlife v @mattsonly @justalittle47 7 @sunsetsturniolos

[hoshifighting]

I can do it for you

— Synopsis: After years dealing with everything alone, you stumble upon an old wishbook from your past. And you jokingly writes down your ideal boyfriend, Mingyu. To your surprise, Mingyu magically appears in your couch. — WC: 8k — WARNINGS: Smut, fantasy, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, oral (f.receiving), g'spot stimulation, overstimulation, oversensitivity, sex fluids and... HOUSEWIFE MINGYU?!

You've always been one of those independent souls since you were knee-high to a grasshopper. Nobody had to tell you how to tie your shoes or pour your own cereal; you were on it like a hawk on a mouse. That's just how you rolled.

Every morning, without fail, the alarm clock would screech you awake. You'd drag yourself out of bed, bleary-eyed and half-asleep, but ready to tackle whatever the day threw at you. Bleary-eyed, you'd stumble out of bed, wishing for just a few more minutes of shut-eye.

Then it was off into the madhouse of morning traffic. Cars honking, people yelling—it was like a scene straight out of a circus. One hand massaging your temple, while the other holds the wheel, again, what would be the excuse about being late for your supervisee?

Once you strutted into the office, it was game time. Arms loaded up with documents, and the sound of your heels echoing through the corridors until you plopped down at your desk. Your boss, with his constant nitpicking, was like a pesky mosquito buzzing around your head, while you practically sizzled your fingertips on the keyboard.

As the end of the month drew near, it was like a race against the clock in the department. Everyone was scrambling to wrap up their projects, racing against time like sprinters gunning for the finish line. The hours seemed to slip through their fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass.

Phones were ringing off the hook, papers were flying left and right, and the clickety-clack of keyboards filled the air like a drumbeat. It was a whirlwind of activity, with no time to spare for even a quick breather.

As you finally left the building, the thought of tackling the grocery store was the furthest thing from your mind. Rush hour was in full swing, and the last thing you wanted was to spend a few more hours stuck in traffic. 

With a sigh of exhaustion, you let your purse plop onto the couch, and you dashed towards the bathroom, craving the comfort of a hot shower to wash away the day's stress. But as soon as you twisted the knob to turn on the water, you were met with a disappointing blast of icy coldness. Great, just what you needed—a malfunctioning shower.

You knew the drill all too well. The resistance had probably burned out again, leaving you with no choice but to endure a bone-chilling cold shower. Normally, you'd roll up your sleeves and tackle the problem head-on, but right now, the thought of dealing with it was more than you could bear.

So, with a resigned shrug, you decided to tough it out. A cold shower was better than no shower at all, and besides, you were too tired to bother with fixing it tonight. As you stepped under the frigid stream of water, you couldn't help but curse your luck.

With some unexpected free time on your hands, you found yourself rummaging through the forgotten stuff tucked away in the drawer beneath the TV. Dust bunnies greeted you as you pulled out various items—a picture frame with a photo of your graduation, a stack of letters from high school friends, old books with worn covers, and... 

You blinked in surprise as you pulled out what appeared to be a wishbook. Memories flooded back to you as you flipped through its pages, the corners dog-eared and the edges frayed from years of neglect. You vaguely remembered creating this in middle school, jotting down your hopes and dreams for your adult life.

You couldn't help but be taken aback as you glanced through the pages of the wishbook, tracing your finger over each childhood dream that had somehow become a reality.

"When I grow up, I want to drive a red car." You chuckled to yourself as you remembered the day you drove off the lot in that sleek red beauty, feeling like the queen of the road.

"When I grow up, I want to work at my dream job." It hadn't been an easy journey, filled with ups and downs and more than a few setbacks along the way. But through sheer grit and determination, you had landed your dream job, doing what you loved day in and day out.

"When I grow up, I want to have my own apartment." Well, here you were, sitting in your very own slice of paradise. Sure, it might not be the biggest or the fanciest place in town, but it was yours. And that was all that mattered.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of curiosity as you gazed at the blank pages at the end of the wishbook. What if you wrote something new? Something unexpected, something you hadn't even considered before?

With a sudden impulse, you grabbed your phone and dialed up your friend. After a few rings, she answered, her voice laced with amusement.

"Hey there, what's up?" she chirped.

"Hey," you replied, a hint of uncertainty in your tone. "I was just thinking... what do you think I've been needing in my life?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line before your friend burst into laughter. "Oh, that's easy," she said between giggles. "You need a boyfriend!"

You couldn't help but frown at her response. "Really? Out of all the things in the world, a boyfriend?"

She chuckled, sensing your skepticism. "Okay Y/N, maybe not a boyfriend exactly," she conceded, "but someone to take care of you. You're always the one taking care of everything that falls into your hands. Have you ever thought about taking a break? Having someone to do it for you for once?"

Her words struck a chord with you, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of recognition. She was right—you were constantly taking care of everyone and everything around you, but who was taking care of you?

You chuckled to yourself as you scribbled down the traits you wanted in a potential boyfriend, feeling a bit silly but also oddly excited at the prospect. As the hours ticked by, you found yourself lost in thought, lost in the whimsical world of daydreams and possibilities.

"A guy who is proactive, kind, maybe a little bit clingy?" you mused aloud, tapping the pen against your chin. "Someone who knows their way around the kitchen... As you continued to brainstorm, you found yourself getting a bit carried away. "Good-looking and tall, with long hair and puppy-dog eyes"

The more you wrote, the more absurdly perfect your imaginary boyfriend became. It was almost like describing a prince straight out of a fairy tale, complete with all the clichéd traits and characteristics.

As you looked over the words you had written in the wishbook, a wave of doubt washed over you. You couldn't help but cringe at the seemingly unrealistic expectations you had set for yourself. Closing the wishbook with a sigh, you tossed it onto the center table, feeling a pang of disappointment.

"It was just a coincidence," you muttered to yourself, trying to rationalize away the strange alignment of your childhood dreams with your current reality. It seemed too far-fetched to believe that your wishes had somehow come true.

With a heavy heart, you made your way to the bedroom, longing for the solace of sleep to sweep you away from the uncertainty of the day. Maybe it was time to let go of the notion that wishes could come true and focus on the here and now.

And there it was, like a cruel joke, that goddamn alarm blaring in your ear, dragging you kicking and screaming out of the sweet embrace of sleep. With a groan of frustration, you stumbled out of bed and trudged to the bathroom, bracing yourself for another shitty, cold-ass shower.

The water hit you like a slap in the face as you hurriedly scrubbed away the remnants of sleep. No time for luxuriating in a warm bath, oh no, not in your world.

After hastily toweling off, you raced around the house like a madman, searching for that elusive perfect piece to complete your look. But in the end, it was all just chaos, a jumbled mess of clothes and accessories that left you feeling more frazzled than ever.

As you stormed out the door and into the chaos of the morning rush hour, you couldn't help but curse under your breath at the sea of cars stretched out before you. It was like a never-ending nightmare, a never-ending parade of honking horns and exhaust fumes.

And then there was your boss, with his never-ending stream of shit, nitpicking every little thing you did like a goddamn broken record. You plastered on a fake smile and nodded along, all the while seething with rage on the inside.

You trudged wearily from the elevator, each step sending shooting pains through your feet courtesy of those godforsaken heels. The keys jangled in your hand as you finally reached your apartment door, the promise of relief beckoning you inside.

With a sigh of relief, you swung open the door and kicked off your heels, reveling in the cool touch of the floor against your bare feet. But as you stepped further into the apartment, something felt off.

The air was thick with the scent of food, and a faint hum drifted through the air. Panic surged through you as you realized that someone had invaded your sanctuary.

Heart pounding, you tiptoed through the apartment, checking every nook and cranny for signs of an intruder. But each room you entered was empty, the only sound the echo of your own footsteps.

Finally, you reached the kitchen, and there he was—a tall figure standing at the stove, his back to you as he hummed a tune under his breath. It took a moment for the shock to register, but when it did, you felt a rush of conflicting emotions flood through you.

"Who the hell are you?" you demanded, your voice sharp with disbelief and anger as you confronted the intruder. The guy nearly jumped out of his skin, and you flinched together.

"What are you doing here? Leave!" you insisted, your heart pounding in your chest as you pointed the kitchen utensil in his direction.

The intruder hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice trembling slightly. "I-I'm Mingyu," he stammered, his eyes wide with fear.

You scoffed, the name sounding vaguely familiar but not enough to ease your suspicion. "Mingyu? Who the fuck is Mingyu?" you snapped, your anger boiling over.

But then it hit you like a ton of bricks. Mingyu... the random name you had created for the boyfriend in your wishbook, the one you had jokingly listed out the qualities you wanted in a partner.

Your laughter was hollow and bitter as you realized the absurdity of the situation. "Are you kidding me?" you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief. "I'm calling the police."

But before you could reach for the phone, the intruder lunged forward, grabbing the wishbook from the center table. "No, no, no!" he exclaimed, desperation creeping into his voice.

You watched in confusion as he flipped through the pages, his eyes widening in shock as he read the list of qualities you had written down. 

You eyed the wishbook with a mixture of disbelief and apprehension as the intruder waved it in front of you, his excitement palpable. Every detail you had written down seemed to describe him perfectly—tall, with puppy-dog eyes, and even the long hair. It was uncanny.

But despite the strange coincidence, you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. Keeping your distance, you raised the pan threateningly, the question burning on your lips. "How did you get into my house?" you demanded, your voice sharp with suspicion.

The intruder's eyes widened in alarm, his hands held up in a gesture of surrender. "I-I don't know," he stammered, his voice trembling. "I just woke up on the couch, I swear."

Your heart raced as you processed his words. He didn't seem to be lying, but the situation was just too bizarre to comprehend. How could someone just magically appear in your home, especially someone who seemed to fit the description of your fictional boyfriend?

With a wary glance, you slowly lowered the pan, the tension in the air dissipating slightly. "Well, you better start explaining," you muttered, your mind racing with a million different possibilities.

You paced back and forth in front of the couch, your mind spinning with disbelief as you tried to make sense of the surreal situation unfolding before you. "So you're telling me that I manifested you by my wishbook?" you repeated incredulously, your voice tinged with disbelief.

The intruder nodded solemnly, reaching for the wishbook and flipping it over to reveal a small gold star etched into the back cover. "See this?" he said, pointing to the star. "This is a manifestation charm. It's what brought me here."

Your frown deepened as you studied the tiny symbol, your mind struggling to comprehend the bizarre turn of events. "But... how?" you muttered, your thoughts racing a mile a minute.

The intruder's eyes widened with curiosity as he looked up at you. "Where did you get this book?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency.

You racked your brain, trying to recall where you had acquired the wishbook all those years ago. And then it hit you like a bolt of lightning. "A mystique store," you blurted out, the memories flooding back in a rush. "I bought it from a mystique store years ago."

You sank onto the couch beside him, the weight of the revelation settling over you like a heavy blanket. It was hard to wrap your head around the idea that a simple book could hold such mysterious powers.

You turned to the intruder, your curiosity piqued as you sought answers to the questions burning in your mind. "Where did you come from?" you asked, your voice laced with both apprehension and fascination.

The intruder hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering away as if he were wrestling with his response. "I... I don't know," he admitted finally, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "It's all a bit... fuzzy."

You furrowed your brow in confusion, wondering how someone could not know their own age or origins. "What do you mean, fuzzy?" you pressed, your curiosity growing by the second.

The intruder sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I woke up on your couch with no memory of how I got here or where I came from," he explained, his expression troubled. "All I know is that I felt drawn to you somehow, like I was meant to find you."

"You didn't have a life before?" you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief as you looked at the intruder sitting beside you.

He nodded solemnly, his expression tinged with sadness. "Yes, I did. But it's all... blurry, like a dream that I can't quite remember."

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "Where did you live before?" you pressed, your curiosity getting the better of you.

The intruder's gaze drifted towards the window, his hands gesturing vaguely in front of him. "Somewhere like this," he murmured, his voice distant. 

You followed his gaze, staring out at the endless expanse of buildings and lights stretching out before you. It was a sight you had grown accustomed to over the years, but seeing it through the eyes of someone who had never experienced it before brought a strange sense of wonder.

"And now?" you prompted, turning back to the intruder beside you.

He shrugged, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Now, I'm here," he replied simply, his eyes meeting yours with hope.

You blinked in surprise as the intruder broke the silence, his words cutting through the air like a knife. "I fixed the shower," he announced, a hint of pride in his voice.

You widened your eyebrows, your mind struggling to process his words. "You... fixed the shower?" you repeated, your voice tinged with disbelief.

The intruder nodded eagerly, a pleased smile spreading across his face. "Yeah, it was just a small problem with the resistance. I managed to sort it out," he explained, his tone casual as if he hadn't just performed a miracle.

You couldn't help but stare at him in astonishment, your mind racing with a million questions. How had he known there was a problem with the shower? And more importantly, how had he fixed it so quickly?

But before you could voice your thoughts, he continued, "Oh, and I went to the supermarket and washed your clothes too."

Your jaw practically hit the floor as his words sank in. "You... went to the supermarket?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

The intruder nodded, his smile widening at your stunned expression. "Yep, got everything on your list. And the laundry was piling up, so I took care of that too," he said nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You were at a loss for words, your mind reeling with the sheer absurdity of the situation. This man, this stranger who had magically appeared in your living room, had taken it upon himself to fix your shower, do your grocery shopping, and even wash your clothes—all without being asked.

"But... why?" you finally managed to sputter out, your voice tinged with confusion.

The intruder shrugged, a playful twinkle in his eyes. "Why not?" he replied simply, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

"Come here," he beckoned, motioning for you to follow him into the kitchen. With a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, you trailed after him, unsure of what to expect.

As he lifted the lid of the pan on the stove, a delicious aroma wafted up, making your mouth water. "Wow," you murmured, impressed by the sight of the freshly cooked food before you. "You cooked all of this?"

He nodded proudly, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yep, thought I'd whip up a little something for us to eat," he replied, gesturing towards the table where two plates were already set.

You couldn't help but smile at his thoughtfulness, grateful for the unexpected gesture. But then your eyes drifted to the clothesline in the corner of the room, where an array of freshly washed clothing hung neatly.

"Oh my god," you gasped, your hand flying to cover your face in embarrassment. "You washed everything?"

The intruder followed your gaze, his eyes landing on the recently laundered garments with a hint of amusement. "Yep, everything," he confirmed, his tone light and playful.

Your cheeks flushed crimson as you realized just how intimate some of the items hanging on the line were. "I... uh..." you stammered, at a loss for words.

He grinned mischievously, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Hey, I gotta say, those puppy-stamped underwear of yours are pretty cute," he teased, a playful glint in his eye.

You buried your face in your hands, the heat of embarrassment spreading across your cheeks. "Oh my god, stop," you groaned, mortified by the unexpected turn of events.

[...]

As you emerged from the warmth of the bath, wrapped snugly in your pajamas, you found Mingyu already fast asleep on the couch, curled up into a small ball. Despite the strangeness of the situation, a pang of sympathy tugged at your heartstrings as you watched him sleep.

You couldn't deny that he looked rather adorable, all shrunken and peaceful in his slumber. If you had asked for a short man in your wishbook, he certainly fit the couch.

But as you glanced at your bed, you knew that letting him sleep there was out of the question. He may have magically appeared in your life, but he was still a stranger, and you weren't about to let your guard down just yet.

Sure, you could kick him out onto the cold streets, but the thought left a bitter taste in your mouth. You weren't heartless, after all, and it was clear that he didn't have a place to go. He hadn't asked to be here, and the circumstances of his arrival were still shrouded in mystery.

But as you glanced at him sleeping peacefully, his features softened in the glow of the moonlight, you couldn't help but feel a strange sense of responsibility towards him. After all, he was just as much a victim of whatever strange forces had brought him here as you were.

With a sigh, you resigned yourself to the fact that he would have to stay—for now, at least. You could figure out the details in the morning, once the shock of the day had worn off and your mind was clearer.

As you stirred awake to the aroma of freshly brewed coffeee, you nearly jumped out of your skin before remembering that Mingyu was there. With a mixture of relief and gratitude, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and rubbed the sleep from your eyes.

As you got ready for work, the thought of facing another chaotic day loomed over you like a dark cloud. But as you emerged into the living room, the sight of a steaming mug of coffee waiting for you on the table brought a small smile to your face.

You took a tentative sip, and It was so good that you couldn't help but shake off the idea of going to the coffee shop today.

"Mingyu, I'm leaving," you announced, grabbing your bag and heading towards the door. "I'll be back at 7pm. Do you need anything?"

Just as you were about to step out, Mingyu appeared in the living room, a packed lunch in his hands. "Here," he said, offering you the lunchbox. "Eat well, and I'll be waiting for you."

You couldn't help but smile at his thoughtfulness, but as your eyes fell on him, clad in one of your shirts from a rock band, you couldn't suppress a laugh. The shirt was stretched to its limits, barely covering his tummy while his biceps threatened to tear through the fabric.

"Okay, I'm definitely going to buy you some clothes," you chuckled, shaking your head in amusement.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Can't I walk without them?" he teased, his eyes dancing with mischief.

You widened your eyes in mock horror. "Of course not!" you exclaimed, feigning shock. "You can't just walk naked on the street!"

Mingyu tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Can't I?" he countered, a playful grin spreading across his face.

You couldn't help but laugh at his antics, shaking your head in disbelief. "No, you definitely can't," you replied with a chuckle. "Now, behave yourself while I'm gone, okay?"

Mingyu nodded solemnly, his smile widening. "I promise," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

As you sat down to eat your lunch at work, you couldn't help but notice the curious glances from your coworkers. They watched you with envious eyes as you savored each bite of the delicious meal that Mingyu had prepared for you.

Suppressing a smile, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards Mingyu for his thoughtfulness. Despite the strange circumstances of his arrival, he had gone out of his way to make sure you were well-fed and taken care of.

As you enjoyed the flavors of the homemade meal, you couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through you. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes about Mingyu's character and the bond that was beginning to form between the two of you.

As the evening rolled around and you left work, you were determined to fulfill your promise to yourself and Mingyu. You headed to the shopping district, the image of Mingyu looking like a doll lingering in your mind.

You browsed through the racks of clothing, selecting pieces that you thought would suit him perfectly. It was a strange feeling, shopping for someone else with such care and attention, but with each item you picked out, you couldn't help but imagine how handsome Mingyu would look in them.

You found yourself spending more on clothing for Mingyu than you did for yourself, but you didn't mind in the slightest. After all, he was the one who needed them the most, and you were determined to make sure he looked his best.

With each new outfit you selected, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement bubbling up inside you. This was your chance to dress Mingyu exactly how you had imagined your dream boyfriend to be, and you were going to make sure he looked absolutely perfect.

You arrived home to find Mingyu sitting on the couch, your wishbook in his hands. As you entered, he quickly put the book aside and rose to help you with the heavy bags of clothing.

"You didn't need to buy all of these," he said, his expression turning slightly sullen as he glanced at the bags.

You brushed off his concern with a wave of your hand, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "It's fine, Mingyu," you reassured him. "I have a good salary now, and it's nice to be able to buy things for someone else, not just for myself."

As you settled onto the couch, Mingyu's gaze lingered on the bags of clothing beside you. There was a hint of curiosity in his eyes, as if he were eager to see what you had bought.

Mingyu removed his shirt as you sat on the couch, unpacking the bags of clothing around you. You couldn't help but steal a glance at his form, admiring the way the fabric of his jeans clung to his legs and the muscles rippled beneath his skin.

Noticing your gaze, Mingyu chuckled softly. "Like what you see?" he teased, a playful twinkle in his eyes.

You blushed slightly, feeling caught off guard by his remark. "Um, I was just admiring the clothes," you replied, trying to hide your embarrassment.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Well, how about I model them for you?" he suggested, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You couldn't help but laugh at his suggestion, the tension melting away as you relaxed into the playful banter. "Like a parade?" you asked, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

Mingyu nodded eagerly, already reaching for one of the bags. "Exactly!" he exclaimed, his excitement contagious.

As he began to try on the new clothes, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation. It was like watching a fashion show, with Mingyu as the star of the runway.

With each new outfit he tried on, you couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he pulled off each look. From casual jeans and a t-shirt to a sleek button-down shirt, he looked absolutely stunning in everything he wore.

s you walked towards him with the silver chain in hand, Mingyu watched you with a curious expression, his eyes following your every move. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you as you approached, a strange tension building between the two of you.

With a slight frown of concentration, you struggled to fasten the chain around his neck, your fingers fumbling with the clasp as you tried to maneuver it into place. Mingyu stood patiently, his eyes fixed on you as you teetered on the tips of your toes, trying to reach him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you managed to secure the chain around his neck, the silver gleaming against his dark shirt. As you took a step back, you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through you. It was the closest you had ever been to Mingyu since he appeared in your life.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you met Mingyu's gaze with a shy smile. "There you go," 

Mingyu glanced at himself in the mirror, adjusting the silver chain around his neck before walking over to you with a grateful smile.

"Thank you," he said softly, his eyes meeting yours with warmth and sincerity. "You didn't have to do all this for me."

You returned his smile, shaking your head. "It's the least I could do," you replied, your tone light. "After all, you didn't exactly ask to be summoned," you added, making air quotes with your fingers for emphasis.

Mingyu chuckled, the sound warm and melodious. "I suppose you have a point there," he conceded, a playful glint in his eyes. "But I'm certainly not complaining about it."

"Hmm, Mingyu, do you want to hang out?" you asked, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

Mingyu frowned slightly, looking at you with curiosity. "Where?" he inquired, his tone tinged with uncertainty.

You grinned, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of showing Mingyu a good time. "Just wait here, I'll get ready," you replied, hurrying off to your room to change.

It was Friday night, and you were used to spending it with your friends, going out and having a good time. And what better way to show Mingyu a bit of the city than to take him out with you?

You turned around to find Mingyu standing in your bedroom, his eyes lingering on your black dress and the silver chain adorning your neck. His gaze was filled with curiosity as he took in your appearance.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you met his eyes. "Well, what do you think?" you asked, a hint of playfulness in your voice.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. "Are we matching tonight?" he teased, gesturing to his own black shirt and jeans.

You chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his playful banter. "I guess we are," you replied, a smile dancing in your eyes. 

Mingyu's eyes softened, a genuine smile lighting up his face. "You look beautiful," he said softly, his words filled with sincerity.

A blush crept up your cheeks at his compliment, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness at his words. "Thank you," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

As you entered the bustling club with Mingyu by your side, the loud music and flashing lights engulfed you both. Mingyu seemed to take it all in stride, moving through the crowd with an ease that suggested he was no stranger to such environments.

You couldn't help but notice the curious glances directed at him as you made your way to the bar. Tall, charismatic, and undeniably handsome, Mingyu certainly attracted attention wherever he went. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride knowing that you had such a captivating companion by your side.

Taking a seat at the bar, you turned to Mingyu with a smile. "What'll it be?" you asked, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the music.

Mingyu glanced at you, a playful glint in his eyes. "Surprise me," he replied, his voice tinged with excitement.

You grinned, turning to the bartender to place your order, as you waited for your drinks to arrive.

As Mingyu glanced around the crowded club, his eyes filled with curiosity, he turned to you with a thoughtful expression.

"Hey, do boyfriend and girlfriend usually come to places like this?" he asked, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the music.

You paused for a moment, considering his question carefully. Did Mingyu see the two of you as boyfriend and girlfriend? The thought sent a flutter of excitement through you, but you didn't want to jump to conclusions.

"Well, sometimes," you replied, choosing your words carefully. "Couples come here to have fun and let loose together."

Mingyu nodded thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on yours. "So, are we... like that?" he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his question, the possibility of being more than just friends with Mingyu sending a thrill through you. But you didn't want to assume anything without knowing how he felt.

"I'm not sure," you admitted honestly, meeting his gaze with sincerity. "What do you think?"

"Well, you wrote in your wishbook that you wanted a boyfriend," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Your eyes widened in surprise, realization dawning on you. "Oh, right," you said, a hint of embarrassment creeping into your voice. "I guess I did, didn't I?"

Mingyu shrugged, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I guess I just wanted to understand," he admitted. "To see if... if maybe I could be that person for you."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his playful tone. "I suppose you are," you admitted, feeling a warmth spread through you at the thought.

After a moment of silence, you couldn't help but ask the question that had been nagging at the back of your mind. "Am I even your type?" you blurted out, unable to contain your curiosity any longer.

Mingyu's eyes traveled over you, his gaze intense as he took in your appearance. He seemed to be studying you, his expression unreadable.

You held your breath, waiting for his response, unsure of what to expect. The tension between you was palpable, as you waited for Mingyu's answer.

He bit his lip, a gesture that sent a wave of heat coursing through you. "You're exactly my type…" he replied, his voice husky.

"Is that so?" you teased, raising an eyebrow in mock skepticism. "Well, you'll have to work harder than that to win me over."

Mingyu chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, I plan to," he replied, his voice dripping with confidence. "After all, I'm everything you wanted, right?"

You couldn't help but shake your head at his boldness, feeling a rush of excitement coursing through you at the prospect of what the night might hold.

"Maybe," you replied with a grin, unable to resist the playful banter. "But I'll believe it when I see it."

Mingyu leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered softly, sending shivers down your spine. "I read the last pages of your wishbook," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "And let me tell you, I can definitely make all your wildest dreams come true."

And in minutes, everything happened. 

You found yourself naked on your couch, your body laid bare before Mingyu, who gazed at you with desire in his eyes. Your legs were spread wide, draped over his shoulders as he knelt before you, his hands trailing over your skin with a gentle touch.

As you held your wish book in your hand, Mingyu's voice broke through the silence, his tone teasing yet filled with curiosity. "So, what's your first wish?" he asked, his eyes locked on yours.

You felt your cheeks flush with heat, embarrassment flooding through you at the thought of revealing your innermost desires. But with Mingyu's gaze burning into you, you couldn't hold back.

"I... I wished for a guy who could make me cum on his tongue," you stuttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mingyu's eyes darkened with desire at your words, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. 

As Mingyu's tongue licked a slow, deliberate stripe along your folds, a shiver of pleasure shot through your body, leaving you trembling. You gripped the wish book tightly in one hand, your nails digging into the pages as Mingyu's mouth worked its magic on you. "Oh fuck, Mingyu!" 

With each flick of his tongue against your clit, you felt yourself unraveling. His arms wrapped around you, holding you steady as you writhed and moaned, unable to control the flood of pleasure coursing through you.

Your other hand tangled in Mingyu's locks, pulling him closer as he continued to devour your pussy. His tongue swirled around your bud, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you in relentless waves.

You moaned his name over and over, the sound filling the air as Mingyu's tongue drove you closer and closer to the edge. You felt yourself dripping with arousal, the combination of Mingyu's saliva and your own juices coating the couch beneath you.

As Mingyu's tongue penetrated slightly into your pussy, a gasp escaped your lips, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body. You looked at him with wide eyes, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggled to form coherent words.

"What... what are you doing?" you managed to gasp out, your voice laced with desire and anticipation.

But before you could even finish your question, Mingyu's tongue penetrated you again, sending a shock shooting through your body. Your legs shook on his arms, your whole body trembling with need.

"Oh Mingyu, that feels so good" you moaned, your voice filled with a mixture of pleasure and desperation.

Mingyu's lips curled into a wicked grin as he continued to pleasure you with his tongue, his movements becoming faster. He sucked on your clit, flicking it with his tongue before diving deep inside you once again, driving you to the brink of orgasm with each tantalizing stroke.

As you held onto Mingyu's locks tighter, he moaned in response, the vibrations sending a surge of pleasure on your pussy. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of your orgasm, your body trembling pathetically.

"I'm... I'm cumming," you gasped, your voice strained with the effort of holding back your release.

Mingyu looked up at you, his eyes dark as he asked, "Are you going to cum on my tongue, just like you wished for?"

You nodded desperately, your whole body tensing with anticipation as you felt the waves of pleasure building inside you. The wishbook slipped from your grasp, completely forgotten as Mingyu's tongue continued to lap your clit.

"Yes," you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, just like that."

And with a final flick of his tongue against your clit, Mingyu pushed you over the edge, making you come undone, riding his face to ride your orgasm, your mind clouded with the intensity of your orgasm.

As Mingyu got up, holding the forgotten wishbook in his hands, he turned to you with a curious expression. "Let's see what your next wish is," he said, his voice tinged with excitement.

Your hands, still trembling from the recent orgasm, reached out to take the wishbook from him. You flipped through the pages until you found the next wish, your heart racing.

And as you read the words on the page, your cheeks flushed with heat at the explicit nature of the wish. It was about a guy who didn't go easy on you, who took control and pushed you to your limits.

You looked up at Mingyu, your eyes filled with apprehension. "Is... is this something you can do?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mingyu's lips curled into a wicked grin as he met your gaze. "I can do whatever you want," he replied.

As Mingyu lowered his pants, revealing his big, throbbing cock, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. It was something you had written in your wishbook — a cock that fulfills you — but you hadn't expected it to be quite so... big.

His cock laid heavy in his hand as he stroked himself, the slick sound of precum making itself known with each movement. You felt your cheeks flush red as you watched.

"It... it won't fit," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper as you met Mingyu's gaze.

Mingyu chuckled softly, "Don't worry," he reassured you. "I'll make it fit."

As Mingyu laid you down comfortably, spreading you wider, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed. His cock slid against your pussy, teasing but not yet penetrating, and you squirmed beneath him, feeling yourself growing wetter.

You almost covered your face in shame, feeling exposed and vulnerable under his intense gaze. But Mingyu's teasing words only served to fuel the fire burning within you.

"That's all you wanted, isn't it?" he teased, his voice laced with desire as he looked into your eyes. "A guy with a big cock to fuck your brains out? Well, lucky for you, I'm here, hm?"

His words sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you, and you couldn't help but arch your hips, silently urging him to take you.

You wanted nothing more than to feel him deep inside you, filling you completely and making you cum. 

As Mingyu continued to tease you, he remarked on your hectic work schedule. "You work so hard," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "You need someone to take all that stress out of you."

His words hit home, resonating with the part of you that longed for release, both physically and emotionally.

You couldn't deny the truth in his words; after all, you had spent so long shouldering the weight of your responsibilities alone.

As Mingyu's cock teased against your clit, the friction making you roll your eyes, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Every movement, every touch drove you closer and closer to the brink, your senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it all.

And just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, when you felt yourself on the verge of exploding with pleasure, Mingyu slammed his hard cock inside of your cunt with a force that took your breath away. Your pussy stretched around him, so tight and so full, that you could barely contain the overwhelming sensation.

As you arched your back in pleasure, the sensation of Mingyu's cock buried deep inside you driving you to new heights of ecstasy, he teased you mercilessly.

"I'm still," he murmured between moans "You're almost cumming."

Your pussy clenched around him with each tantalizing movement. Mingyu's cock felt impossibly hard and thick inside you, stretching you to your limits as he held himself still, savoring the exquisite torture of denying you release.

He put your knees on your chest and started pounding inside of you, hitting that spongy spot dead-on with the first thrust. You screamed in your living room, rolling your eyes back as you tremble.

No mercy, just like you wanted.

Mingyu looked at your pleasured face, making sure he was hitting all the right spots to drive you wild. And judging by the way you were moaning and writhing beneath him, he was definitely doing something right.

"You're so wet for me," his voice dripped with lust. "You can't get enough of my cock, can you? You want me to fuck you harder, hm?"

You nodded eagerly, unable to form words.

As Mingyu pounded into you harder, your body tensed, your abdomen trembling as you felt the orgasm approaching. He bit his lip, holding back his moans as your walls spasmed around him, indicating your impending climax.

You gripped the couch tightly, your nails digging into the fabric as pleasure washed over you. But no matter how hard you tried, nothing seemed to relieve the overwhelming sensation building inside you.

And then it hit you, you came, hard and fast, your orgasm ripping through you as you spasmed uncontrollably beneath Mingyu.

You came on him, on the couch, on his cock, unable to contain the pleasure coursing through you. And as Mingyu watched you cumming in a matter of minutes, a proud moan escaped his lips, his eyes filled with satisfaction at having brought you so much pleasure.

As Mingyu held your legs to the sides, spreading you open and angling his cock in a way that his pelvis rubbed against your clit, you squirmed helplessly beneath him. Every movement sent jolts of oversensitivity coursing through your body, and you cried out in pleasure and desperation.

But Mingyu held firm, his gaze locked with yours as he reminded you of your wish for him not to take it easy on you. "You wanted this," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "You wanted me to push you to your limits."

You whimpered in response, the sensation of his cock rubbing against your clit driving you to the brink of insanity. "I can't take it," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can't take it anymore."

But Mingyu only moaned in response, his hips moving in a relentless rhythm as he continued to tease and torment you. "You'll need to take it," he whispered, and you moan satisfied that he didn't stopped.

"Just a little more," he urged, his voice filled with desperation. "You're almost there, baby. Just hold on..."

As you held Mingyu's neck, drawing him closer to you for another kiss, you found yourself lost in the intoxicating sensation of his lips against yours. But with each moan that escaped your lips, it became increasingly difficult to maintain the kiss, the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body making it impossible to focus on anything else.

Mingyu noticed your struggle, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watched you writhe beneath him. His face contorted in pleasure, mirroring the ecstasy written all over yours, as your walls pulsed and contracted around him with each thrust.

As you trembled beneath Mingyu, tears slipping from your eyes, he kissed your face gently, his lips tracing a path of comfort and reassurance.

"I'm cumming for you," he murmured, his voice soothing and gentle as he tried to calm your racing heart.

But your chest rose and fell in erratic waves, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you closed your eyes tightly, desperate to hold on just a little longer. And then it happened, a silent moan escaping your lips as your body tensed and your pleasure blinded all of your senses.

You came again, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that left you gasping for air, your entire body trembling with the intensity of it all. And as Mingyu watched in awe, unable to hold back his own release any longer, he let out a surprised moan of pleasure, his own orgasm crashing over him.

As Mingyu's warm cum filled your cunt, mingling with your own juices, you let out a contented sigh, feeling completely spent and satisfied.

Feeling utterly relaxed, you laid your head back on the couch, letting out a deep breath as you allowed yourself to bask in the afterglow of your orgasm. The tension in your neck melted away as you finally allowed yourself to relax.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern as he looked down at you.

You nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, I'm good," you replied, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.

Mingyu leaned in closer, his eyes searching yours as he spoke. "That was... so good," he said, his voice filled with awe. "I've never felt anything like that before."

You chuckled softly, feeling a sense of pride swell within you. "Yeah, me neither," you admitted, feeling a warm glow of satisfaction spread through your body.

You chuckled softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. "Who knew that silly wishbook would actually work?" you remarked, shaking your head in disbelief.

Mingyu leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips. "Well, I'm here now, and I don't plan on going anywhere," he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

[red5tars]

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cw brief mentions of pregnancy

hook-up culture was one of the only ways you could get your fix without commitment. it’s hard to maintain any real relationships now, especially as a full time student (and slut). but you’d always been careful, having taken contraceptives, keeping condoms on you, etc etc.

though, none of them are 100% full proof.

you stare at the pregnancy test, wide-eyed. someone bangs on the bathroom door of the gas station, urging you to hurry up. but you can’t, the implications of those two little lines keeping you stuck to the seat.

when you ask your friends, they dismiss you, saying “you’re a smart girl, you’ll figure it out.” and when you call your parents..

you block out the interaction from your memory.

with no financial or emotional support, you are forced to scour the internet for a solution. an abortion is too expensive, and you can’t raise this thing when you’re about to enter your junior year of college.

all hope seems lost, till you find the shadiest ad on craigslist;

Looking for Baby to adopt. Surrogate or already pregnant. Will provide care for entire pregnancy.

it seems like a scam, even more so as you open it and skim through the benefits (a roof over your head, food and water, nearly $25k to start). everything about this seems too good to be true. after all, can you really trust something you saw on craigslist?

still, your eyes find a phone number and email address at the bottom of the ad, belonging to some guy named johnny mactavish. the foreign name throws you off even more, surely a name like that isn’t located in the united states of fuck all. though, it seems like you have no other solutions.

hesitantly, your mouse hovers over the ‘reply’ button, the clicking sound ringing in your ears, settling your fate.

——

johnny knew it was futile to post an ad looking for a surrogate on craigslist, but he didn’t see any other options (or rather, he ignores them). simon and him have been retired for some time now, settling in some small state. the woods offer some sort of privacy, a silence that comforts them rather than makes them shake in their sleep.

it seemed natural that having children would be the next step after living here for so long. johnny thanks tommy for finding a pretty bird and producing a nephew since it would’ve been harder to convince simon otherwise. the riley’s don’t seem like family men, yet simon is carving a little bear to send back to manchester, congratulating tommy on the announcement of his baby girl.

it makes johnny warm, but he can’t help but feel jealous. sure, simon is everything to him, his whole world, but it’s hard to procreate when all you got is a prick and shitter.

so he set up his little offer, though he might as well be suppressed with how nearly no one has reached out to him.

johnny’s about to take down the ad, ready to talk to simon about doing things a different way, when he suddenly gets a reply.

> this isn’t a joke, right?

johnny raises a brow at this, swiveling back to the computer and typing up his response.

< would nevr joke bout smth srs

and when five minutes passed, he presumed that would be the end of this little interaction, fueling johnny’s desire to take down the post.

that is, till he gets another response.

> well, is the position still open then?

he feels his heart stop, eyes widening as he reads the phrase over and over. a certain excitement wells in his chest, and he gets back on the keyboard before he can run out the room and tell simon the good news.

——

his last reply consists of a time, date, and address.

[eph3merall]

dealer!chris x innocent!bff!reader <3

—

"yeah, s'okay mum," your voice is soft in the quiet of chris' room, lounging on his bed with your legs tucked to the side of you. a blanket lays over your legs, nodding your head softly when your mom says something back.

chris is pretending to not care. he's pretending to not listen in to your quiet voice, thumb mindlessly scrolling through his instagram. posts from his best friends, from his brothers, some posts from the chick he hooked up with a week ago. with a double tap on the post, he left her a like and commented a few heart eye emojis.

"no, 'm at a friends house," a pleasant call from your mom had you smiling—eyes crinkling at the corners and lips curling up. she's asked about school and how you've been in general, if you're up to anything. the topic of your living space came up and she questioned if you've been socializing more lately.

"no not maya's— i'm not even friends with her any– no it isn't lilah either.. mom," you're sighing as the sound of your mother's exasperated voice fills your ear. she keeps on listing off names, multiple of which you've forgotten or haven't spoken to in years.

you sit up a little, shoulders slumping gently as you flick your eyes towards chris. the back of his chair is facing you so you can't see what he's doing—but you hear the subtle click of a lighter and soon smoke is drifting up into the air.

"his name is chris. y'know. the guy i told you about? his brother nick introduced us—yes.. nick has brothers," you keep talking. chris listens. he doesn't catch every word though, having ended up zoning out for a second or getting caught up in his texts or something on his phone.

his chair creaks as he gets up from it, blunt in hand as he eyes you on his bed. you two lock eye contact before you just sigh at the sound of your mother rambling. "no, no he's a good guy. we're friends, mum, stop. yeah, no—okay, i gotta go. i'll call you soon."

you're blinking rapidly and sighing once you hang up, relaxing back against chris' headboard. he couldn't help but snort at your words, 'a good guy.' yeah, alright. he brings the blunt back up to his lips as he stalks towards you, taking a seat on the edge of his bed and reaching for a pair of shoes.

smoke filters out of his lips as he glances back to you and gives you a knowing look. "what's up w'you? lookin' all.. upset or somethin'. were y'not happy to talk to your mom or..?" his brows furrow slightly and he just blinks at you as you shrug a shoulder.

"she just kept questioning me about you. like, she kept asking me if we were dating. and like, it's annoying you know?" chris just snorts and turns his head back, sliding his shoes on and lacing them up. he was gonna head out to meet up with matt and nate, go to a party to make some money or something.

"didn't tell your mum i was a drug dealer, huh? big bad chris isn't a good influence on sweet lil—" you're shoving his shoulder playfully and shaking your head as a grunt sounds from him. settling back onto his bed, the image of him finally catches up to you as you see him in a pair of blazers and a hat fixed on top of his head.

"where are you going? thought we were gonna watch a movie or something," your brows furrow in confusion, staring up at him through your lashes. chris glanced back at you for one second before looking away quickly, letting the blunt hang out of his mouth in between his lips. fuck you for being so cute.

"yeah, i know. sorry baby, matt n' nate invited me to go to some house party," your cheeks involuntarily heat up at the pet name, even if you know he just lets it slip sometimes and it isn't anything special. rings of smoke waft up into the air as chris speaks, your nose scrunching at the smell as you frown in disappointment.

"oh," was all you managed for a second. you were kind of looking forward to finally getting to hang out with your best friend. alone. only for him to blow you off and say he's going somewhere. chris is at house parties almost every day every single week, why can't he just spare one extra day for his best friend?

at least, you hope he sees you as his best friend.

"well, can i go w'you?" the words are out of your mouth before you register what you said. horrible idea, actually. you hate parties. the loud music and sweaty bodies were always too much, and your parents always told you to stay away from people who did drugs or got wasted every day. and people at parties did that, a lot.

chris just blinks at you slowly, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. until he just nods and shrugs a shoulder, hand reaching up to grasp the blunt to take another huff.

"if y'wanna.. sure. hurry up n' put your shoes on, don't got all day kid."

—

@ferdzom @st7rnioioss @sturniolosarethebest

©eph3merall 2024