#what the hell is inflation! idk. i’m holding hands with someone
holding hands with someone is one of the simplest and greatest things on earth. nothing else really matters honestly
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demon’s favor || kim sunwoo
summay: the last place a clueless and pure angel like you could ever see yourself at is in bed with the demon you hate more than any other
requested: “Can you maybe do some demon x angel type of shit with Sunwoo 👉👈”
genre: smut, just a tad of angst
word count: 5.3k
warnings: enemies to lovers... ish, sunwoo has the biggest inflate-my-ego kink, corruption kink, angel reader doesn’t know what the hell is going on, a lot of conversation, microscopical mention of drinking
note: i am pretty damn sure this is like- my first request ever on this blog jhfjfjdk anon i am literally SO sorry. idk if you’re still around or will see this and no i have, yet again, not proof-read for shit but in case you wind up reading it, i hope you like it 👉👈 also incubus!sunwoo is kinda hot i don’t make the rules here
some demons have curved horns, some have sharp fangs, others rock like scales.
the demon you keep crossing path with has a face you’d consider pretty if it hadn’t been for his personality; plump lips blurting out all kinds of unholy words and almond-shaped eyes soft until they shine in a bright crimson red from mischief, evil and excitement. every now and then, you catch yourself glancing at a pair of defined hands worthy of admiring until you look away as soon as you remember what cruelty they might’ve performed in the past. his voice is dark yet smooth, the kind that makes others swoon,
unless they’re an angel who can hear the underlying tone of sins from miles away.
you, as one assigned to carry out duties in the human world, just happen to be one of them,
“you’re literally everywhere I am.”
your sigh of clear dismay is followed by a chuckle from the other side of the bedroom as none other but sunwoo enters the room.
“what’s with that look?” he says, grinning. his hands are dug into the back pockets of his jeans but when he closes the door shut with his foot, you narrow your eyes at him. “that’s not how you greet an old friend now, is it, angel?”
you only answer after making sure he remains where he stands, leaning against the door. “don’t lump me in with you,” you mutter, now bitter unlike any other point of the day. “and while you’re at it, stop following me around.”
“following you around? I’d rather call it fate.” his grin widens when you simply raise an eyebrow at him. “think about it − you and me, assigned duties in the human world at the same time, in the same place − pretty romantic, if you ask me.”
“save your sweet words for someone else,” you snort and lean your back against the wall behind you. with arms crossed over your chest, you cast your gaze to the window next to you, observing cheerful, drunk humans socializing with one another in the garden outside the house, the current party leaving music loudly rumbling from it. even though you’ve stayed in their world for quite a while already, it’s an activity you never can really grasp your finger around, still not sure what it is that makes it as fun as humans make it seem. “I have better things to do than getting involved with an incubus like you.”
before answering, sunwoo tilts his head to the side; the moon stands high in the clear night sky, shining enough through the window to mildy illuminate your features in the dark; you clench your jaw but despite a bad mood being practically written all over your face, he doesn’t fail to notice the delicate hint in your eyes.
the delicate hints of an angel and may god curse him if he said it didn’t stir something up within him.
“are you sure about that?”
the low murmur holds onto an unfamiliar though attention-catching tone and when you hesitantly turn to look back at him again, sunwoo is already padding his way towards you, his thudding, slow steps muffled against the carpeted floor. immediately, your shoulders stiffen, body tenses and arms wrap tighter around your frame, only to make the grin on his lips twitch into a smirk.
“why would I not be?” you ask and despite not pleased about the situation, your voice stays solid and confident even as you go on, “I have only come to this world to guard humans and receive souls at the time of their death.”
“please, I wasn’t born yesterday. there’s more to your power than some guarding bullshit,” sunwoo speaks in what almost sounds like a disappointed sigh. “I know you have more than that, that you can get out from here in the snap of a finger if you want to, or even call for aid from your winged little friends. pretty sure you’ve got enough to put up a bit of a fight against me on your own right here and now too.”
you snort, “oh, trust me, sunwoo. I would fight you if it wasn’t unethical.”
“yeah, because you’re a shining beacon of ethics, right?” he scoffs with clear sarcasm.
you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, though jolt in your spot when he suddenly reaches out to grasp onto your chin. “I’d like to ask you to correct me if I’m wrong but you said it yourself, right? angels aren’t supposed to get involved with demons and yet, I can’t remember you ever even trying to flee whenever we cross paths.” his hold tightens to make you properly face him, thumb slightly tugging your bottom lip as another chuckle slips past his own, “one may almost believe you and I are friends. makes me wonder what your dear lord and saviour would think if you were to be seen like this.”
as soon as he utters the last part, realization hits you, and you know he has a point, a terrifying one on top of that. however, when you hastily make an attempt to swat his arm away, sunwoo swiftly grabs your own, pinning it to the wall next to your head.
“you demon, let me go,” you grumble between gritted teeth. it’s clear how you’re trying to act unfazed but the crack in your voice says otherwise and the weak but first sign of your faltering resolve doesn’t make him smirk any less.
“I’m an angel; I’m not supposed to be with a demon.”
sunwoo finds greater amusement in the way his stare quickly makes you look down at your feet as you answer, “it’s a-against our rules.”
“but rules are meant to be broken, angel,” he coos.
“I have no reason to break any rules−”
“haven’t you noticed?”
though glaring, you hestitantly face him again, “... what?”
your eyes once again fall down when you feel him tap a finger against your slightly shaking hand hanging down your side, shivering when he whispers in your ear, “you’re doing it again. you’re not even fighting back, you could’ve even pushed me away just now but you’re not. you preach angels and rules all the damn time but what about you now? you’re not doing anything about it.”
“I...” you begin, but the words fall stuck in your throat.
“y/n,” sunwoo’s voice drops a bit lower, eyes slightly narrowing and when he proceeds, the words escaping him has your breath hitching,
“can it be that you don’t want to fight back?
your eyes widen, the reaction doing nothing but delight him as his hand shifts to lightly hold your jaw. “is that it?”
“no! of course no−”
he cuts you short once again, “you’re tired of following those rules, aren’t you? and that’s why you’re always all bark, no bite whenever we meet, because the truth is you want to break them.”
“truth is, you don’t want to be the good little angel you’ve always been,” sunwoo hums and when you can’t find it in yourself to answer, he smiles smugly, “am I wrong?”
he’s wrong, you convince yourself. you’re absolutely certain he’s wrong, because never have you ever even thought of disobeying the rules and law, let alone God. you’ve always despised demons, each and every one in any kind of shape and form, and simply imagining yourself standing next to is a sickening image.
sunwoo is dead wrong, so why can’t you deny it?
his thumb tugs on your bottom lip again but when it causes you to meet his gaze, his jaw clenches; the delicacy in your eyes is still there but rather than the acidity you had previously greeted him with, there’s now something else blended with it and for better or for worse, he isn’t stupid; it’s so clear to him what it is, so clear it’s almost childish, the fear mixed with anticipation staining your features and the knowledge that you’re most likely not even aware of it yourself drags the most quiet of a growl out from him.
“what happened? cat got your tongue?” sunwoo says with a small pout faking sympathy. his hand travels further, finding a spot by the side of your neck but much to his surprise, a light whimper escapes you when his thumb strokes the lobe of your ear − the weak order uttered shortly after only comes to him as even more of a shock.
“sunwoo, stop,” you breathe out, “... it feels weird.”
and like that, sunwoo freezes on the spot for a good few seconds. while letting your words sink in, he scrutinizes you, the way you’ve, by now, tightly shut your eyes and sunk your teeth down your bottom lip, how your face is almost burning hot against his wrist and body shaking mere inches away from his.
eventually, it hits him. a part of him think it’s a stupid thought, doubting it’d add up with your current state but at the same time not - he can’t seem to find any other valid explanation to whatever it is that ‘feels weird’ and before he knows it, the question falls off his tongue,
“... y/n, has no one ever touched you before?”
though reluctantly, you open your eyes to silently question, clearly puzzled,
“... aren’t you touching me right now?”
sunwoo’s jaw drops and if you were allowed to, you’d swear you’ve never seen him look so absolutely bewildered before. why, you don’t know but you do know that it makes you nervous, anxious even and you’re starting to wonder if coming to a party just to guard some shit-faced teenagers on the coincidental cost of meeting sunwoo really was worth it.
your body jerks when sunwoo all of a sudden leans closer to you, freezing as his forehead rests against one of your shoulders. his own shoulders shake with an airy chuckle emitting from him, making you gulp at the warm breath fanning your skin,
“bloody hell, you know what an incubus is but you don’t know what it means to touch yourself?”
while you’re not sure what he’s trying to get at, you’re aware it’s something you can’t help feeling embarrassed over. the curiosity though, makes you unable to move and rather ask. “what… does it mean?”
gnawing on his bottom lips, sunwoo contemplates on just how he’s supposed to answer that. in the end, with entertainment written all over his face, he leans back up again,
“want me to show you?”
you hardly notice your breathing accelerating as wide-eyes look at his. part of you feels bad, so incredibly bad and flat out wrong, almost betraying and yet, you still find yourself silently asking, “i-is it bad?”
as sunwoo answers, he tilts head to the side, the tip of his nose grazing your own, “for an angel who wants to break rules, not at all.”
hearing this, you scowl at him, now knowing it can’t possibly mean any good - at least not for you. on the other hand, you can’t help but hate it, hate how his words, stare and demeanors seem to get the absolute best of the absolute worst in you.
the reason to your lack of response doesn’t go unnoticed by him and from the way he actually says your name for once, you understand that he’s being fully serious,
“it’s up to you, y/n. you can be a goody two-shoes and follow your oh so precious rules for all I care,” he murmurs, “but if you’re going to keep forcing yourself to it, I promise you’ll have a much better time letting me help you out.”
“promise? all you demons do is lie and deceive, what makes you think I’d ever trust you to promise something?” you retort, though hardly sound as confident as you like to believe.
“oh, please. I feel so bad for you, I don’t even feel like deceiving,” sunwoo scoffs, “besides, I’ll benefit on this either way and depending on your answer, you will too - it’s a win-win.”
a smile meets your silence, an even bigger one when you take a deep breath, holding it in what you don’t realize and what he guesses is anticipation. humming, he says, “we both already know you want to so you just gotta say the word.”
he lets go of you, though only for his hands to slowly ghost down your sides, your eyes tightly shutting close. as he speaks, the low voice coaxing in your ear has you shakily let out the breath you’ve been holding, “go on, angel. let me hear you say it.”
and like that, the incubus breaks out in a smile as he hears you quietly utter, “show me.”
for a moment, he looks back over his shoulder, one of his hands making a flicking motion to the other side of the room. shortly after, the sound of the door locking resonates, making you furrow your eyebrows in growing concern. “what are you doing?”
it’s only when sunwoo takes your hand in his own that you realize how cold he actually is. what surprises you even more though is that it makes you feel oddly warm. the thought merely lingers in the back of your mind though as you’re still waiting for an answer.
sunwoo takes a quick glance around, finding it convenient how you had opted for a bedroom to be your observation spot when he sees its rightful bed in a corner. leading you towards it with close to no hesitation, he answers in a sigh, “it would kinda ruin the fun if someone walked in while I’m making you feel good.” he perks his head up as if realizing something and though you can’t see it, you hear the light laugh he lets out, “wait, actually, it probably wouldn’t but I’ll spare you that pain this time.”
“what do you mean, this ti-”
you’re interrupted for the nth time that night when he, without any warning whatsoever, hastily pulls you closer and soon, you’re seated by the edge of the bed, him hovering above you. further away from the window, the moonlight just slightly helps you see through the dark but even without it, it’d be impossible to miss his eyes faintly growing red for a split moment.
“sunwoo, what are you… doing…?” your words trail off when he cups your cheek.
“call it testing the waters?” he mumbles. what you don’t know at that moment is that the phrase is wrapped more in his own growing curiosity rather than what normally would’ve been caution. “I mean, someone has to know what gets you going since you obviously don’t yourself.”
before you can question it, you let out another breath as he reaches for the spot behind your ear again, chilly fingertips somehow burning against your skin. his hand slides further down, nails slightly grazing your collarbone, thumb stretching to the other side to take your neck in the lightest of a hold, though enough to feel you gulp against his palm.
never would sunwoo ever have imagined himself appreciating an angel taking the shape of a human but there he is, doing just that as he strokes your skin, your pulse harshly beating against the pad of his thumb only making him even more amused, or perhaps thrilled - probably both.
“for being so pure, these colours sure don’t suit you; reminds me too much of the heavens,” sunwoo sighs as takes a glance at your clothes, frowning at your light blue blouse and white jeans before grinning back at you. “let’s do something about that, hm?”
yet again, you don’t make it to question him; as his hand travels further down your body, his index finger only grazes the fabric of your blouse but it’s somehow enough to smoothly tear it apart in a straight line. just as he’s about to unbutton your jeans, he stops for a moment when both sides of the now ruined blouse slide down only to reveal your chest to be completely bare. he takes a deep breath, the back of his mind thinking about how he had never expected someone, let alone an angel, to cause a ruckus of thrilled feelings within him.
sunwoo is brought out of his thoughts with narrowed eyes when you quickly drape your arms over the exposed skin. one hand reminds fiddling with your button but the other moves up to push them away with a shake of his head, “don’t. can’t help you out if you do that.”
a part of you wants to believe it’s your own reluctance but another part of you knows just fine that his words are what willingly makes you listen to him and let your arms shake and rest by each side of your head.
you soon catch yourself doing the exact same as soon as your jeans and underwear have been discarded and forgotten on the floor; you hardly protest when sunwoo slips his hand between your thighs to slowly push them apart and your breath hitches, even more so as he traces his fingertips up your skin.
you whimper barely audibly as you repeat your question from before, hand moving to grab onto his wrist, “what are you doing?”
much to your shock, his eyes soften, similar to his voice while gently swatting your hand away, “don’t worry about it, angel. you’ll find it out soon.”
slowly, no matter how much you curse yourself for ever doing it, you give in to the demon and soon, the look on his face screams of mischief again.
you’re about to say something, you’re not sure what but at least something. however, the only thing coming out of your mouth is another, louder whimper as sunwoo suddenly presses his middle- and ring finger against your folds.
“just look at yourself,” he says in a deep breath, head arching back, though eyes sticking to you, loving how wet you feel against his fingers, “and I’m the first one to see you like this? what an honour.”
you cut yourself short with a sharp breath when he barely pushes his digits inside you and in return, he coos, “will hurt for a second but you can do it, right, angel? I know you can.”
truth be told, sunwoo is surprised by his own actions, almost as surprised as you, if not more; for being an incubus, he can’t recall back to a single time where he has ever been gentle with someone. though, as he thinks about it, perhaps gentle is somewhat the wrong way to put it, seeing how he’s holding back no matter how much the vulnerability in your response to him makes him want to do the total opposite.
yet, here he is, painfully patiently waiting for you to get used to his touch.
all that said, the second sunwoo sees you do just that, his composure starts running this, making him push his fingers deeper into your heat. it drags a moaned outcall of his name out of you and he repeats the action, again and again, the pace of it increasing the slightest bit for each time, encouraged by the noises you gradually can’t help letting out.
his free hand shifting to caress one of your thighs, he leans down to hover above you until the tip of his nose touches yours. “how does it feel? hm?” he softly murmurs, though smirking, already knowing the answer perfectly well from the look on your face.
“f-feels…” you try to speak between heavy, uneven breaths you never knew you’d ever have to drag. the word slips off your tongue again and it’s almost like you can’t find the following one to properly describe the unfamiliar sensation.
sunwoo does it for you though you nod almost immediately, shocked about how he got it spot-on, unaware of how obvious it actually is: “good?”
“good,” you mimic. when his thumb finds its way to rub figures against your clit, you let out a soft cry with hands flying up to grasp onto his upper arms, “so good.”
“oh, yeah? you like it that much?” he chuckles, only growing more and more amused. his arm supporting his weight on the sheets slightly shifts for him to tuck strands of hair behind your ear as he hums mockingly, “but I thought you didn’t want to break the rules?”
the way he slows is oddly frustrating to you, thus causing you to, almost unconsciously, answer in hopes of changing his mind again, “I-I don’t- I don’t care about those- god, please don’t stop.”
sunwoo arches an eyebrow at you, “god? god isn’t the one making you feel this good, though.” you glare at him as much as you can past your hazy eyes, knowing he’s pretty much asking you to feed his ego: “tell me, y/n, who’s making you feel this good?”
you instantly regret refusing to answer when sunwoo stops moving entirely; in another attempt to change his mind, you sob into the crook of his neck, “you, sunwoo, you’re the one making me feel this good-”
“what a good, little angel,” sunwoo responds and complies with your wish, this time even faster while snickering, “the lord must be so disappointed, watching you fall into my hands like this.” he leans down to brush his lips against the shell of your ear and whisper, “wonder what god will think once you’ve let a demon make a mess of you.” he moves back up again to smile at you,
“once you’ve let me turn you into one of us."
his words resonate in your head and even up until this point, you know you’re in the complete wrong for your actions; you’re an angel and yet you’re not only discarding your assigned duties but also doing exactly what he had said.
the worst part of it all is the underlying realization that the delight of it is greater than the regret.
nevertheless, all these thoughts fly straight out the window when an unknown sensation sprouts, grows and crawls through your body and makes you gasp, “su- what’s going on?”
“feels strange, doesn’t it?” sunwoo silently laughs and kisses the corner of your lips, knowing what’s going on.
it does feel strange, indeed, but it’s only when he suddenly pulls his fingers out and it stops, that you realize it had felt good too.
you’re about to complain, disappointed with the turn of events but you stop yourself. instead, your eyes widen and you shift your head to the side when sunwoo sits up to kneel between your thighs and unbuckles his belt. “jesus christ, have some shame!”
“alright, pretty-mouth, I don’t want to hear you talk about shame while you’re in this state,” he snorts but when you only respond with a look of something between hurt and annoyance, he shows you a grin and a wink, “it’s okay. I like you better like this anyway.”
when sunwoo’s left with no answer but you quietly blinking up at him, he curiously tilts his head to the side. “what’s wrong, angel?”
“it feels weird.”
there it is again, your lack of ability to put thoughts into words but this time, something is off, clear in the way he furrows his eyebrows despite softly murmuring, “I’m not doing anything though?”
“I know…” you whisper with a voice slightly cracking. as you go on, you don’t realize how you reach your hands out to feel and travel up his arms, “but it feels weird.”
sunwoo takes a few seconds to stare at you, shortly falling down to you again and for the first time that night, he locks his lips with your own. “I swear, during all these years I’ve spent in this world you’re the worst and most stupid angel I’ve ever met.”
you don’t answer and even if you wanted to, you’d be beat to it as he, not a moment later, shuts the gap once more and before you know it, one kiss turns into an endless amount. something about it leaves you yearning for another unfamiliar feeling and he laughs upon feeling you kiss him back with less hesitation and more hurriedly, more desperately for every second passing.
it truly does boost his ego. sunwoo can’t help it, not when you without your own awareness and knowledge give him further signs of just how bad you need more of what he has already given you; he really can’t help it when you wrap your arms around his neck and he definitely can’t help it when you moan against his lips under his every touch.
something prods against your core and when you let out yet another gasp, he parts and moves your hand to place it on his shoulder, explaining between heavy breaths when you respond with a puzzled look, “I told you it’s going to hurt a bit, right? you’ll have to trust me on this one.”
you find the warning to make complete sense when sunwoo, without any further ones, slides into you. slowly, but the stretch caused by his fingers can’t even begin to be compared with the stretch caused by his member and your hand quickly grasps onto his shoulder harsher, nails digging into his skin.
your arm around him retreats for you to clasp your hand over your mouth. you tightly shut your eyes while his head and lips attach to your neck. the kisses, sucking and biting to your skin serves as some sort of distraction from the warned ache, your own head sinking deeper into the pillows.
it feels too comforting to come from a demon out of all creatures, sunwoo’s hands rubbing your sides but you can’t bring yourself to figure out the reason for it when the pain gradually subsides only to be replaced with a pleasure you’ve never felt before.
the grasp on his shoulder loosens, your hand darts up, your fingers tug on the strands of his hair, he takes it as his invitation to start moving and before long, your hips repeatedly meet in a steady, even pattern.
at some point, sunwoo’s own hands run their way up your waist, caressing every bit of your exposed chest only to leave goosebumps crawling on your body and once again further up. he shifts your arm from your mouth to pin it to the mattress and in the midst of the bliss slowly but surely turning overwhelming, you can just barely make out him saying something along the way of letting him hear your pretty sounds.
“really the worst angel out there,” sunwoo smirks against your collarbones, now tinted red and purple, “so innocent but also so damn greedy, wanting more even if it’s from a demon.” you cry out at a particularly sharp thrust of his hips and it’s accompanied by him adding, “but also being so good for taking what I give you.” there’s another pause in his speech, this one to plant a kiss to your lips, once, twice, “and not even caring about how you’ll turn into a demon after this yourself.”
it’s not long until the sensation from before returns, something similar to a knot building up in the pit of your stomach, leaving the rest of your body trembling; him once again rubbing figures against your clit, back arching in response, chest meeting his.
a smile of satisfaction graces sunwoo’s lips when he feels you clench around him, his pride almost overflowing at the fact that he’s the reason for your every reaction. at the same time though, it also drives him closer to his own limit, neck arching back and eyebrows furrowing.
said knot seemingly loosens when a, to say the least, unexpected sense of bliss crashes over you. you’re not sure just how often his name has escaped your mouth by now only to feed his ego, but nor do you care at this point, too engrossed in the high he has led you to. the longer it goes on, the more your lungs seem to go into overdrive as you can just barely inhale enough air to even function; the more his cock hits the spot triggering it, the more sensitive you grow and you can’t tell if your pleas filling the room are asking him to keep going or to stop. you find some sort of comfort though as he whispers between kisses pressed to your ear, “just a little more.”
despite whimpering at the turmoil going on inside you, you nod into the crook of his neck.
like promised, sunwoo’s thrusts slow down one after another to eventually still fully. it confuses you when he breathes out praises, telling you how well you did, when the entire reason behind what just happened had been him doing you a favor but you don’t question it, not when it sends the nth rush of shivers through your spine.
you quietly groan when he pulls out, the feeling of being empty more uncomfortable than you had expected. sunwoo just laughs though, until it trails off upon seeing his cum dripping out of you, instead making him curse in sheer awe. still, he cleans you free from it with the sheets and watches you close your eyes and chest rapidly move up and down in attempts of catching your breath.
“out of all angels I’ve fucked,” he begins after a short while, “I would never have thought you’d be one of them.”
“out of ‘all angels’?” you mumble and narrow your eyes at him.
sunwoo sits up in the bed but with a hand on it supporting his body, he leans down to hover above you, once again smirking, “why? jealous?”
you snort and look away. “as if. just shows how filthy you incubi are.”
“being filthy is our job,” he laughs before coming even closer until you almost feel his lips brush against your own. “so? did I make you feel good or not?”
hearing this, you gulp, blink a few times, need a moment to figure out an answer. you open your mouth but close it again when he adds, “and don’t think of lying because we both know the answer.”
“why are you asking then?”
“because I want to hear you say it.”
at first, you think it’s one of his many other playful comments but the tone in his voice says otherwise and meeting his eyes, they’re a lot more serious than you’ve ever seen them be. admittedly growing nervous under his piercing gaze, you once again turn away - only until he holds your chin between his fingers to turn you back to him, and you realize he’s not having it any other way.
thus, you nod, slowly and silently speak, “... you did.”
shortly after, you also realize it had just been him asking for another ego-boost when he breaks out in a shit-eating grin.
you’re about to drop some sort of snarky comment but stop yourself in confusion as sunwoo ghosts his other hand over your frame; two taps of his index finger against your chest is all it takes and just as fast as with the door lock a while ago, you’re suddenly dressed in a new set of clothes. the abrupt change of appearance comes to a shock, even more so when you notice that the pieces are the same as the ones from your original attire - just in darker shades.
“suits you better.”
you groan and arch your head back into the pillows, “take them off. it’s hot and I’m sweaty.”
what he says next has you looking back up at him again: “you have a meeting with god now, don’t you? can’t really show up there all naked.”
you freeze but, somewhere to your own surprise, it’s out of dread and exhaust rather than anything close to regret and with your eyes widening, he lets out another entertained laugh.
“have fun getting locked out of heaven,” sunwoo smirks. taking your hand in his, he presses the lightest of a kiss to your knuckles without the pair of red, glowing orbs ever tearing their attention away from you,
“I’ll be awaiting your return, angel.”
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Brainrot Kinktober - 10/1
nice guys finish last
Hate sex: Shigeru Yahaba x Fem!Reader
Warnings: oral sex (f. receiving), sex (protected), kinda unhealthy relationship? Lmfaoooo idk how to tag a hate fuck but that’s what it is... frat boys. frat au- frat boys always come with a warning.
Word Count: 1.7k
Brainrot Kinktober Mlist
Of all the people in your contemporary issues seminar, it was just your luck that you had to be paired with Shigeru Yahaba for your midterm project. He was the arrogant, know-it-all, frat boy type that you loathed. It wasn’t that you knew you’d get a bad grade, actually quite the opposite; you both had some of the highest marks in the class- no, it was the fact that you had to spend time with someone who had such an inflated ego, and made it a point to let everyone know that his dad was on the university board of trustees or that his fraternity won the greek wars the past 2 years in a row- Every. Time. He. Opened. His. mouth. But begrudgingly, you had to do this to pass.
After texting back and forth sporadically for a few days, you had agreed to meet and work on the paper in your dorm, as you told Yahaba there was no way in hell you were stepping foot into his frat’s house. You felt a lot better doing the assignment on your terms this way. He, however, decided to show up almost an hour late to the pre-arranged meeting time, only further fuelling your disdain.
“Sorry,” he said flatly, tossing his backpack down to the floor. “Our pledges had a mission that ran over time and as Pledge Master I-“
“I don’t care,” you cut him off. “Let’s just get this project over with, yeah?”
You both set up your laptops and sat in an uncomfortable silence. Every once in a while, one of you would mention the topic at hand for the project, discussing a detail or commenting on the formatting of the paper you had to co-author. But mostly, the air was riddled with a heaviness, a lingering tension that was as close to breaking as possible. It was about an hour and a half before he opened his mouth to actually make conversation- and of course, he chose to press the issue.
“You know… I never really knew what your whole deal was with me,” he chuckled. “You seem to be the only person on this campus that has it out for me…”
“I don’t have it out for you,” you replied. “I just simply don’t like you.” You went back to work, typing feverishly in an attempt to draw your silence back in.
“But… why?” His tone changed, almost to one of desperation. One that let you know that he wanted you to validate him. But you could never give him that satisfaction.
“Because trustfund boys like you are a waste of time, space, and energy!” You yelled. Yahaba’s eyes widened.
“Well at least I don’t think I’m better than everybody for being a loner without friends!” He yelled back.
“At least I don’t have to fucking pay for friends,” you spat. “I worked for everything I have, I worked hard to get here! You think you should just be able to get by because daddy’s money keeps the school afloat!”
Your faces were lingering mere inches from each other, anger boiling over into a sickening feeling of contempt- but also an overwhelming arousal? The feeling of those sinfully familiar butterflies welled up in your abdomen as you stared into his eyes.
It was in a fluid motion that his lips found yours, teeth feverishly tugging at your bottom lip to allow entrance to your mouth. Your head was spinning as you tried to comprehend your current position- but your senses were overriding thought. You melted into the kiss, allowing your jaw to fall open just enough for Yahaba to swipe his tongue against yours. You paused for a second, stopping to look him in the eyes again, seeing his now hooded with an entirely different story than the hateful narrative you had been writing for them the entire semester.
“If we’re going to do this,” you started, taking the time to take a deep inhale before you finished your sentence:
“If we’re going to do this, you better not fucking tell anyone- or you’re dead.”
“Scouts honor,” Yahaba replied, licking his lips and giving you a shit-eating grin. Even though you were thoroughly convinced he had never been a scout, you couldn’t be bothered to care. He kissed you once more, pushing you into the couch before starting to sloppily trail kisses down your jawline, neck, and collarbones. He placed both hands at your waist, pinning you to the surface below as he used his teeth to pull up your shirt, feathering more kisses down your torso. You watched him wistfully, mindlessly following his lead.
You began to kick off your leggings, wriggling them down your thighs while Yahaba had removed his shirt. He found his way back to your mouth, placing sloppy open-mouthed kisses to it as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your slowly dampening underwear, tossing them to the floor. He ran a finger up your now glistening slit- the sudden sensation of which earned a gasp of surprise from you. Examining his finger, he slowly licked your arousal from it.
“Delicious,” he smirked, positioning his head and body in between your legs, his own feet dangling from the couch. He looked up at you one last time.
“I hope you’re ready for this....” he teased. He wasted no time, flattening his tongue against your core. You inhaled sharply, one hand finding his hair and the other palming one of your now exposed breasts. You rolled your nipple between your fingers as he went to work, lapping at your folds with an almost sinfully slow pace.
“Fuck I need- MORE!” You could barely get the last word out when you were jolted by the feeling of suction his mouth had made on your clit. Slowly, Yahaba had slid a finger at your slit, slowly pushing it within your plush walls, several soft moans escaping your lips. He curled his finger inside of you once or twice before lazily slipping another in, making sure to keep the pressure also building around your clit, rapidly darting his tongue against it.
He released you from his mouth with a pop, fingers still pumping away. He was motivated by the moans you were so desperately holding back- he wasn’t supposed to be making you feel this good. You hated him, you hated what he stood for- why give him the satisfaction of having you come undone at his touch?
“Come on, y/n,” he coaxed. “I know you’re a raging fucking bitch- but can you sound real pretty for me? Let me hear how pretty you sound, tell me how good my fingers feel inside your pretty little hole...”
“Hmmmph~ fuck,” you whined. He quickened his pace. “It feels so- mmmm- so good.”
“Good girl.” His mouth found its way to your clit once again as he removed his fingers from your cunt, bringing them to your lips. You quickly opened your mouth for them, tasting your essence and humming as you wrapped your lips around them. Your eyes fluttered closed as you could feel the knot in your abdomen slowly starting to rip.
“I’m going to c-“ you choked out a half sentence, stopping as you felt your climax ripped away from you as Yahaba removed his mouth from the bundle of nerves, leaving your spasming pussy desperate for attention.
“No you’re not,” he growled. He tore his joggers from his body, boxers following immediately after. Spitting into his hand, he stroked his already hardened cock; looking at you lustfully. He used his free hand to reach into the pocket of his joggers, pulling out his wallet, followed by a condom.
“I’m always prepared,” he winked. As much as you wanted to smack the smug look off of his face, you knew that he would be able to scratch the growing itch you had. You just wish he wasn’t able to talk through it.
“Shut up,” you retorted. “Just fuck me before I change my mind.” You swivelled your hips in anticipation, watching him prepare himself. He lined himself up with your core, sliding himself against your opening.
“Shiiiit,” he hissed, slowly sinking into you. Your head flew back as the feeling of fullness overtook your lower half. Yahaba started moving at an even pace, snapping his hips against you with each thrust. You threw your arm around his side, coaxing him to move a little faster.
“For someone who can’t stand me, you sure are needy,” Yahaba laughed, continuing to pull himself in and out of you at a teasingly slow rate.
“I said shut up and fuck me- that’s all you need to be doing,” you commanded.
He bent down even closer to you, bucking himself into you deeply, attaching his tongue to the sweet spot just below your ear and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh. He started pounding away at your pussy, satiated by the stream of curses and needy moans spilling from your lips. Your nails absentmindedly dug into his back, clawing at him to make sure you could feel every inch of him dragging through your soaking wet walls. The familiar knot in the bottom of your stomach was building itself up yet again, only made larger by Yahaba pressing his hand against your abdomen to deliver more quick and hard thrusts, hitting at just the perfect angle to cause you to snap.
“Fuckfuckfuck I’m- oh my god- I’m cumming!” You choked out as your vision went blurred. Yahaba didn’t let up, continuing to thrust as you rode out the high, your walls spasming around him. Once you went limp, he pulled out, hair still perfectly coiffed and sticking to his forehead from the sweat. He began to dress himself again as you lay sprawled on the couch, your body beginning to prickle with sensation again.
“Wait,” you paused. “You didn-”
“Nah,” he threw his shirt back on. He hadn’t finished himself. You were a little hurt- did he think you were trash?
“I wanted to prove to you that even if you hate me, I’m a pretty good guy… a good guy would never let you go unfinished.”
The hurt you had felt turned into the contempt you knew instinctively.
“Fuck you,” you huffed, pulling your t-shirt back over your own head.
“You just did,” he smirked.
Our taglist is closed now, but here are those who are on it! (if your tag is in bold, pls check ur privacy settings to make sure we can tag you!)
@riniwrits @definitelythotful @shrimpypenis @nonexistent-social-life @crushingonsuga @revolutionary-chocolate-cake @right-shoe-jpg @sugawara-sweetheart @nxynxy @aoba-baby @arianna20 @scorpiosanssexy @ceo-of-daichi @dinosaurtsukki @turquoiselace @nonamemaximum @omibaby @chokemelevi @bokuakadaily @haikyuuangst @cutie-aesthetic-palace @whet-ones-write @superdepressedhoe @iwachanswh0re @crushzone @kiseox @mysticalroadnightempath @toobsessedsstuff @trouvelle @kodzu-ken @elianetsantana @sonyaroses-blog @tsukkisbitch
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my supervisor fucked me over with all my other coworkers present. can I request a one shot from you to cheer me up featuring Sammy?
Did I give y’all the fic about the hotpot?
Well if I didn’t, I’m giving it to you now.
Summary: Ganke checks the comments for the Blindspot comic daily and there’s this one asshole anon who keeps talking shit about BT.
The Blindspot comic went live in the fall and Ganke couldn’t stop checking the hit count every five seconds. All night there had only been ten hits.
He told himself not to be disappointed. The only person who really mattered had read and loved the comic.
Miles said that BT had even forced everyone on the team to read an abridged version of Journey to the West, and had gone as far as to make a quiz to determine everyone’s character.
Miles refused to disclose who he’d gotten.
BT had clearly rigged the game to make himself Sun Wukong and Ganke was proud of him.
That kind of enthusiasm was exactly what he’d been hoping for, anything else now was just icing on the cake.
Even though it would be cool if it wasn’t just BT reading his own comics.
That would be pretty cool, right? Like. If people online all started reading BT’s comic. That would be sort of amazing.
Kind of excellent.
Definitely worthy of an A+ and double pats on the back.
The hit counter didn’t think so. But hey, five more people had opened the page since last night. That was something, wasn’t it?
MM: dude why not just ask Sam to tweet out the link?
How dare you, Miles Morales.
How dare you waltz into this place with logical thought.
GL: I can’t do that. That’s like. Idk. Inflating the views.
MM: okay yeah explain to me how appealing to the person in control of the largest part of his own fandom is inflating the views
GL: I see your logic and I’m banishing it
MM: I’m messaging him
MM: too late
MM: he says ‘gimme link’
@blindspot: hi I know y’all can’t get enough of me to the point of asking shockingly invasive questions and for you I say good news! Some amazing folks have gone through the trouble of making a Blindspot comic. it’s good guys check it out [link]
It helped a lot.
People, on the whole, had great things to say. The panels were screenshotted and tagged and sent all over social media and even though Miles was pretending to be chill and aloof about the whole thing, Ganke could imagine him smiling big and bright and white at his phone non-stop.
Mom and Auntie saw a few of the bits on Twitter and tittered over them in the kitchen like pigeons.
The pride rose like a wave. Ganke kept waiting for the crash.
It came two days later in the form of a comment that read ‘Christ, look at all this fuss. BT is fine. I hate his brother.’
It felt like someone punching the wind out of Ganke’s lungs.
He took comfort in the handful of people who leapt in to shout down the commenter. They emphasized that if the anonymous commenter didn’t like the story or the characters, then they didn’t have to read it and they, especially, didn’t have to say anything about it.
Ganke appreciated those guys. He got the feeling that a lot of the people on there knew that the whole thing had been done but a couple of kids.
Not that Anon cared.
Anon replied to all these comments ‘No, I’m gonna keep reading, thanks. Anyways, the brother is lame. The smart part is cool, but why’s it always gotta be a guy?’
The part that haunted Ganke even after he’d shut his laptop and had gone to stick his head out the window for some big breaths of cleansing air was that Anon was kind of right.
GL: should we have made Guotin’s brother a sister?
GL: why not?
MM: cause BT’s always wanted a brother
Okay. Then it was fine?
MM: yeah man ignore them. it’s chill.
GL: k thanks my ego is huge and fragile
MM: trust me I know
Asshole. Fine, moving right along.
It didn’t stop. Anon commented on every page. Every. Single. Page.
Ganke didn’t know what to do or say. On the one hand, clearly this person was dedicated and deeply engaged with the comic, on the other hand, they needed a Rude Alert button. Ganke wondered if Ned could code one for them and them only.
The latest of their fury was directed at the big reveal in the second issue—BT’s face.
Having now met Sam, BT, Blindspot, Ganke’s whole image of him had changed.
He was not conventionally attractive as far as like, K-Pop idols and famous Chinese dudes went. His eyes were puffy and narrow and his face was round everywhere but the jaw. He leaned more towards ‘cute’ than ‘sexy,’ which Ganke sort of loved about him.
He was friendly. Stressed and grumpy and feisty as hell, yeah, but first and foremost friendly.
Miles claimed that he called it his ‘number one asset in employability.’ Which was wild because hello, Blindspot.
Obviously, BT couldn’t help his face. But Miles and Ganke could help Guotin’s.
Ganke had sent Miles about fifteen different images of Chinese celebrities and had told him to do his worst. They’d reviewed the final few drafts and had picked one that was most like a young Chen Kun. His face was more oval-shaped than BT’s. His chin and lips were slimmer but more defined. He was pretty, but not so pretty as to be called ‘feminine,’ which Ganke thought was a solid compromise between ‘handsome as sin’ and ‘looks like he’s got a quirky sense of humor.’
Anon hated him.
Anon thought that he looked like an idol, and they were not here for it.
They told ‘the artist’ to give him a mole or something, anything to make him look ‘less pristine. God, I can smell him from here and he smells like Dior and staph habitat.’
Ganke had to look up what a staph infection was. He regretted it. He asked Miles if they should censor Anon.
Miles said ‘mmmmm, idk it’s not like they aren’t saying anything that isn’t true.’
Ganke resented that. Clearly this was defamation of BT. This person hated him and was taking their feeling out on the comic.
MM: I mean yeah but it’s not like they’re talking about the comic, man. They’re talking about the style and like, thinking about it, a mole or smth to help you tell him apart from other folks would kind of be helpful. Like, especially if we ever put him in a crowd, you know?
Anon could stay. But they were on thin ice.
It was hard not to be bitter about Anon’s comments, especially when they arrived daily, as though Anon knew exactly what they were doing and which page they’d left off at. They couldn’t possibly be reading the comic one page at a time, this was intentional.
Ganke’s jaw hurt from all the tooth grinding he’d endured as of late.
This latest one read ‘yo, has BT ever mentioned fighting with a sword? I don’t recall him mentioning. Someone should take that thing away from him before someone loses an eye—or maybe even two.’
That felt like a pointed jibe.
That turned the churning irritation in Ganke’s gut into something much, much colder.
Did Anon know about BT’s black and blue eyes? How could they know? Was it a coincidence? It seemed to be more than a coincidence.
The pile of critiques was growing bigger and bigger, and now that Ganke thought about it, they all seemed to take issue with things that didn’t match the real Blindspot’s personality.
It was as if they knew him.
GL: miles did you read the new comment from AnonTheAsshole?
MM: lol yeah
GL: tell me if I’m talking out my ass or whatever but like
GL: you don’t think they could be Muse, could they?
MM: oh no
MM: chances are low.
GL: they know so much tho??
MM: might be stalker? Maybe someone who’s over-invested in BT’s social media pages?
MM: hold on let me ask Spidey to screen it
GL: does he know Muse?
MM: no, but he’s paranoid and he’ll get Wade to be paranoid with him, and then they can decide whether its worth giving to DD for verification. He knows Muse.
Ganke’s head was spinning. His fingers shook with guilt and the thought of Muse’s pale body hunched over a secret, cracked cell phone in a high security prison who knew where.
In Ganke’s head, he smiled wider and wider, until the skin on his cheeks cracked. He dug out scraps of paper and redrew Blindspot—Sam—with gaping holes for eyes and a screaming mouth and he drew dismembered corpses in black lakes and he laughed.
He just kept laughing.
MM: hey ganke
MM: it’s going to be okay. It’s just a comic. I’m sure AnonTheAsshole is a stalker. They’re not threatening anyone.
MM: Sam can deal with a stalker. And we can too, okay?
There was a reason that Miles was a hero. Ganke wiped at his eyes and swallowed.
GL: okay. Thanks for doing that.
It took a few hours because Spidey and Deadpool had lives outside of being Spidey and Deadpool, but not so long that Ganke ran out of nails to chew.
Miles messaged him back and said that Spidey had read through everything and ‘escalated it.’ This meant that whatever he’d seen had caused him enough concern to take it to DP.
Miles said that he’d get back to Ganke with DP’s verdict as soon as he had it. In the meantime, he’d run the comments by the other Spideypeople and they thought that it most likely wasn’t malevolent but was maybe something to keep an eye on in the meantime. He tacked onto all, somewhat stiltedly, that he had a weird feeling all of the sudden. The pink Spidey’s tone had changed. She’d shut down and gone cagey, which allegedly wasn’t like her at all. Then she’d told the taller guy to DM her and they’d vanished from the chat. Miles wasn’t sure what was going on there or if maybe they knew something about stuff going on that he didn’t, but he wasn’t super comfortable with it.
GL: crossing my fingers its nothing?
MM: same man, same.
DP escalated it.
Ganke couldn’t stay still in his room. There was no comfortable place to sit or stand or lay. There was nothing to do that would make him stop thinking about everything.
MM: It’s gonna be fine, man, DD always knows what to do.
Miles kept saying that for every step of the way, and yet here they were. Double escalated. Ganke wasn’t so sure he even knew what was happening anymore.
That was scary. Miles was supposed to be part of the in-crowd.
MM: Wade doesn’t think it’s anything that can’t be nipped in the bud.
That was easy for a contract assassin to say, wasn’t it?
MM: he says that you and I are fine. Doesn’t see any links there. Waiting on DD for confirmation of tone.
Hurry up, Daredevil. Your apprentice’s life might be about to take a nosedive into a heap of trash.
Two hours. One text.
Ganke couldn’t contain the bubble of laughter.
GL: good news?
He opened it.
SC: HANNAH YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE. STOP BEING A BITCH ON MAIN
HC: You can’t tell me what to do
SC: I CAN
HC: Mom he’s being MEAN
SC: Mom she’s scaring children online
HC: I scare children everywhere I go why are these ones special???
SC: Because I said so
HC: that doesn’t fucking work Samuel you’re not her
SC: I am your older brother
SC: your ELDEST brother
HC: YOU AINT SHIT
SC: THEY DON’T COUNT
SC: HALFSIES COUNT
MM: she’s not Muse.
MM: Red’s laughing his ass off at all of us for taking this to a level three
GL: wait I don’t understand
MM: Hannah is Sam’s little sister. She’s found a new hobby in our website.
Blindspot’s little sister was reading the comic??? Holy shit.
GL: she hates him?
MM: no I’ve been informed that they would literally commit murder for each other but this is how they express love.
No way. Siblings were wild.
GL: so we’re good?
SC: apologize 🔪
HC: eat my ass
SC: apologize or else
HC: or else what? You gonna come in here and sit on me? Huh? Huh????
SC: I know your email password. All 3 you cycle through. What was his name? Uuuuuuuuuh Jing?
HC: you fucking bastard
SC: Hi Jing, it’s me, Hannah. I’ve been in mad crush with you since sophomore year. Please notice me senpai 😖
SC: kill me
HC: I will.
The giggles that came this time were a mix of relief and genuine intrigue. This lady read the comic every day. She took the time to scroll through pictures of her brother being an absolute lunatic and fighting with a huge monkey. Then she hopped into that comment box and took him—not Miles, not Ganke, specifically Blindspot--down a peg.
She must miss him a lot. Ganke wondered if this was her way of keeping him in her thoughts.
MM: I don’t think we’re getting a sorry, man. DD says Sam’s been at this all morning and has been tricked into apologizing himself twice
GL: so you’re saying that she’s an evil genius
MM: idk but she’s def Sam’s main nemesis. I always thought that older siblings got like, rights or something over younger ones, but idk anymore. Angel says this is normal.
GL: do you think she misses him?
Miles took a long time to respond.
Yeah, Ganke thought so, too.
GL: should we change Guo tin’s brother’s name to ‘hamish?’
MM: one moment.
MM: sam says yes. Hannah says that she thinks our comic is shit and we need to draw everything uglier
GL: she’s kind of funny
MM: 👀perhaps she would like to be a consultant?
MM: brb asking
MM: sam says no. Hannah says she’s got better things to do than proofread comics on the internet. She’s also not sorry. She wants that to be clear. DD says that the conversation has moved from English to Chinese and to maybe duck and cover for now. He says all is good tho. Thanks for checking in.
MM: Muse doesn’t use punctuation and talks in riddles, so if we get any of that, we’re supposed to send it to DP right away.
Oh, nice. That was a relief.
MM: sam wants to put us in a chat. Can I give him your number?
Uh, only if he wanted Ganke to hyperventilate.
[GL has been added to a Secure Chat]
It was a page of characters and emojis that were somehow more menacing than Ganke had ever seen them before. Miles popped a little waving hand into the fray, as though testing the waters, but the characters just carried on scrawling around it.
Ganke wasn’t quite sure what to do.
GL: hi? Are y’all okay?
There was finally a pause. Then a few shorter lines of characters. And then finally, Blindspot switched from Chinese to English.
SC: yes we’re FINE. We’re GREAT. Aren’t we, sibling from hell?
HC: who’re you? Why are you in our family chat? This is a family only zone, can’t you read?
SC: God Hannah he’s Korean don’t be a dick
HC: I can’t not be I learned it from you
SC: fair but pretend in the face of company
HC: okay fine. Hello losers.
SC: go on
HC: I didn’t mean to shit talk your creation. Only my brother.
SC: also a sin, we’ll get to that later
HC: no one cares about you Samuel, stop spreading lies
SC: you first. We both know this is no lie, my white dad cares about me a whole lot
HC: well we can’t all have white dads now can we
SC: don’t be jealous
MM: lol you really call Matt your white dad??
HC: who is this person and how do they know our mutual parent’s name?
SC: this is not a mutual parent situation how many times have we been through this. He’s mine. Get your own.
MM: hi! 👋🏾I’m Bitsy! Spidey no. 4
GL: I’m his friend. He draws the comic. I write it.
HC: oh. nerd children x2
HC: anyways yeah Matt is our dad
MM: he’s sort of dadly ig.
HC: ?? oho
SC: mind your face. Think about your face. Think about how much you like your face.
HC: little spider, did you not hear?
SC: kay everyone out. We’re done here
MM: hear what?
HC: lol Sammy you didn’t tell them about how Matthew Mcconaughey adopted you in all ways but paperwork?
Ganke held his phone away from his face as far as it would go.
MM: …wait are you for real?
SC: no. okay out.
HC: awwww Sammy so shy now. What are you embarrassed about? It’s cute.
SC: Hannah literally shut up I’m not playing
HC: damn okay sorry
MM: can I be honest?
MM: I’m going to be anyways: I think we all sorta knew.
SC: what does that even mean?
MM: idk, it just felt right, you know? You two are always fussing at each other and red lost his shit that time you got shot. He doesn’t treat you the way he treats the rest of us and we’re his teammates. He doesn’t even treat spidey like he treats you. So like, yeah. It fits.
MM: I’m really happy for you guys.
MM: is there a reason it’s a secret?
Ganke eased himself back down onto the mattress. This was real. This was like, actual, real information. Something that he and like, four other people in the world now knew.
He kind of wanted to forget it. It didn’t feel right to know.
SC: I dunno.
HC: if sam has an honest emotion towards anything he has to calculate its weight so he can make space for it in his collection of satellites.
SC: you’re so not funny.
HC: it’s called emotional repression, darling. It’s all the rage in this family.
MM: so that’s why you and Red get on so well
SC: okay but listen his is different, I’ve only seen him cry at his wedding. I cry at least 4 times a week. Obviously under the bed, but that can’t be emotional repression. That’s expression. That’s clearly expression
HC: I can make the old man cry watch me
SC: please don’t I’ll die
SC: shut up it doesn’t even matter.
SC: LEAVE ALREADY
MM: no I like it here. I want to hear you talk about how much you love your white dad
SC: I don’t. He loves me. I’m fine with this because it results in food, shelter, and continued employment.
HC: uh huh
SC: I’m using him
HC: yeah because you’re like the most manipulative person I know.
SC: thank you
SC: I know I ignored it.
MM: so wait why do you actually pretend like you hate him tho?
SC: what the fuck am I supposed to do? Just go on up for a cuddle? Have you met Matt? The second someone starts crying, he finds trash to take out to the bins. Hell no. Life is easier for everyone if I stab him with a stick and he kicks my ass in training. It’s fine.
HC: Sam is learning how to be a Manly Man. This is step one.
SC: I’m plenty manly
HC: you’re what mom imagined as manly
SC: which is perfect. That’s all I need.
HC: mama’s boy
SC: must suck to suck, no one’s kid.
Wow. Ganke had never been more glad that he didn’t have a sister.
GL: That’s kind of cool, though.
GL: that you and DD are close like that I mean.
GL: Its different from all the other mentor/mentee superheroes we see who like, sort of hate each other.
SC: OH. you mean Peter and Kate. Peter doesn’t actually hate Stark, fyi. And Kate calls Hawkeye the Old bi-weekly to make sure he’s still breathing. It’s actually pretty normal.
MM: he doesn’t mean like that Sam. I mean, like those guys don’t associate with their Olds now that they’re grown up and stuff, but you and DD stick together. It’s like you’re family.
MM: and that’s super cool. Idk if Spidey would ever consider me family. I don’t think he wants that for us.
SC: oh shit
HC: CLARITY ON THIS FINE DAY. What was your name again, tiny spider?
HC: PRAISE BE TO MILES
HC: AN EMOTION WAS HAD
SC: get fucked
HC: An epiphany was obtained!
SC: would you shut up
HC: Something has finally permeated that non-porous, two-inch thick skull of my esteemed eldest brother
SC: I’m your only brother
HC: you’re not
SC: they don’t fucking count
HC: now will you FINALLY invite our mutual dad to hotpot?
SC: Hannah he doesn’t want to come to hot pot we’ve talked about this. it’s too spicy for him.
HC: I’ll make it 1/3 less spicy
SC: that’s still too spicy
HC: I’ll make it 2/5 less spicy
HC: I have all this fucking equipment that SOMEONE left here callously
MM: what’s hotpot?
SC: well fuck
GL: have we never taken you with us for hotpot???
MM: no?? is this the sticks?
HC: can be. Where do you live?
SC: Hannah no
HC: Hannah yes. We’ll make one here. You’ll make one there.
SC: do you know how much shit I’ll have to buy? Where are we gonna put it?
HC: this wouldn’t be a problem if you’d taken your goddamn inheritance with you to SF
MM: you guys are actually being serious?
HC: I am. I am here all on my lonesome. Abandoned by my only kin. I require enrichment.
SC: try doing your fucking homework
HC: did anyone hear something?
MM: lololololol I like you
SC: oh no. No no no.
SC: you two don’t get to be friends
HC: come here bb pspspspspspsps
MM: I’m here
HC: got ‘im. Let’s have hotpot. Sammy send me resippy. We’ll do it together over video so I don’t fuck it up.
SC: I’ve got to go. This has been traumatizing.
HC: is he gone? Hell yeah, he’s gone.
HC: hey thanks for making that comic thing. It’s hella rad. He loves it. Mom used to call him Monkey when he was little.
GL: omg aw
HC: ikr? P cute. He misses her a lot so I think it brought back good memories. Anyways, I’m actually going to make hotpot. Come over and have some with me, it’s more fun with more people.
MM: you’re not joking
HC: nope, it’s been ages since your whole team has gotten together, right? Ask them to do it. I’m a shit cook, but Sam’ll show us how not to screw it up. And he’s playin’, he’s totally down to hang out with us. We never had more than three people. It’ll be new. Exciting. Enriching even.
MM: are you secretly a nice person, Hannah?
HC: the fuck do you mean ‘secret’??? I’m a delight.
MM: Okay I’ll ask the team and my mom
Sounded kind of nice?
GL: I’ll ask my mom.
HC: nice. You can tell them that it’s a friends dinner or whatever. Idc. I promise I’m not going to kidnap and murder you. I’ve got like, class and work and shit. I don’t have time for that.
HC: great here I’ll message you my number. This is legit our sibs chat so Sam’ll freak if you’re still here when he gets back.
MM: thank you! And sorry for thinking you were muse!!
GL: yeah that too
HC: lol np ttyl
That…had really just happened, hadn’t it?
Ganke needed to sit down even though he was already sitting down.
GL: they’re so nice???
GL: are you actually going to ask your mom?
MM: Im gonna ask BT if its cool first. Then yeah. Why not? Our team really hasn’t gotten together in a minute. Everyone’s been super busy. It would be a nice change of pace, and if everyone brings smth then Hannah doesn’t have to pay for anything.
MM: ah, Sam says it’s okay. He says sorry his sister is weird and that he’ll make sure she doesn’t poison us.
GL: I kind of love her
MM: okay will check in with the others. Talk to you later.
GL: yeah see you later
Damn, at this rate, Ganke’s family was going to triple in size, and all thanks to a comic.
Before he left for downstairs, he made a note to make Guo tin’s brother snarkier.
91 notes · View notes
obey me! hc heights / how the boys would react to you being shorter + taller than them
i recognize that the council has made a decision, but given that it’s a stupid decision, i’ve elected to ignore it
okay peeps so here’s the thing, i am a tall. because i am a tall, i also wish for the boys to be t a l l. because i am incredibly biased. i will only give the weak excuse that it’s because they’re demons and i can do what i want, and what i want is for them to be t a l l .
annnNNYways theyre under the cut from tallest to shortest
i don’t think anyone’s surprised here
probably about 6’6 or 6’7 (198-201cm)
b i g b o i
credits it completely to the amount of nutrients he consumes on such a regular basis
he doesn’t care really care about your height too much in comparison to him, he loves u with the entirety of his heart either way
if you’re smaller than him (which u most likely are, this boy is a tree), he will no doubt find you just. the cutest. he loves leaning down to kiss the top of your head or to hug you. will definitely pick you up any chance he gets just to carry you.
he loves being able to use himself as a shield and just. hide you completely behind him, especially if your scared or nervous or anxious because of someone/something
if you’re his height or taller, he just. absolutely loves to cuddle with you. he will tangle his legs with yours and just. pretzel around you. your limbs are so long and he’s finally smaller than someone so he will revel in it as much as possible. he llloovveesss your arms and legs.
also not a huge surprise
like?? 6’5 (196cm)
he is tall. and graceful. and beautiful. and elegant.
if you’re shorter than him, he will definitely use your head or shoulder as an arm rest. even if you’re the exact same height as him, he’ll insist your shorter and use you as an arm rest. you can’t stop him.
if your taller than him, this boy will
w o r s h i p
any intimate moment you have
he loves your thighs especially
your legs are just so long and attractive oh geEZ
other than that, he doesn’t act much differently based on your height
this clingy little shit likes you for you, simple as that
like 6’4 (193cm)
he a tall boy like his twin (but not as tall. doesn’t get as much nutrients bc he sleep)
i don’t have much of a reason for this other than the fact that like,,,
if you’re shorter than him, he’d be trying to get comfy with you in your bed before eventually giving up because yOUR BED IS SO SMALL WHY CANT HE FIT—
picks you up and brings you to his room, where his bed is huge and he can stretch out all he wants with you
you could be the same height as beel, but belphie refuses to be little spoon. you could be ten feet tall and he’d still big spoon. he likes feeling like he’s protecting you when you sleep
also because he’s so used to cuddling with his pillows when he sleeps it just feels natural
around 6’3.5 (192cm)
i also don’t have much reason for this other than the fact that he’s a gangly nerd
he isn’t actually a gangly nerd (but he is)
awkward with his body sometimes, like his limbs are too long for him on occasion
loves height differences
probably due to anime because one character is always shorter than the other
he will feel like a protagonist whenever he’s next to you if he’s taller than you
will lose his mind if you raise yourself onto your toes/pull him down in order to kiss him
if you’re his height or taller, honestly at first he’s gonna be a bit :/ about it bc what about his aniME HEIGHT DIFFERENCE—
but when he realizes he has feelings for you, that stops mattering
absolutely loves resting his head on your shoulder when the two of you are playing games (but he can’t do it that often, he gets too flustered and can’t think)
if you wanna win a game of smash, put your arm around him and pull him close. he will ERROR 404
for no other reason than i’m biased as hell
also he’s a model so i guess i can use that as an excuse—
even though he’s relatively short compared to the rest of his brothers (like beel holy shit—) he’s still really tall.
his ego will inflate tenfold if he is taller than you
even if you’re the same height, he’ll still insist you’re shorter
“here puny human, let THE great mammon reach this thing on the top shelf for you!”
“mammon i can literally reach it myself, i don’t need—“
lowkey loves it if you pull him down by his tie to kiss him
although he will be flustered for a good amount of time afterwards unless he’s in a Specific Mood
if you’re taller than him, he will very much be blushing mess
easily flustered, loves looking up at you, somehow clingier than usual
will try to do the pull-you-down-by-the-collab thing, but accidentally slam his head into your nose and never attempt it ever again
somewhere around 5’11 or 6’0 (180-183cm)
he insists that he’s “the perfect height for any lover ;)”
he’d say that no matter what height he is though
honestly could not give less of a damn about how tall you are compared to him
he treats you the exact same
because he loves you, and that’s the only thing that matters to him, really
you could be purple and it wouldn’t change how he feels about you
you can pry (relatively) short satan from my cold, dead hands
he’s not even too short, but he gets the shit taken out of him by his brothers all the time for being the shortest out of them
has a height complex
if you’re shorter than him he will absolutely 100% be smug about it
he is a little shit
will constantly note how tiny you are compared to him, will kiss the top of your head any chance he gets while the two of you are alone together
it’s a huge ego thing for him
if you’re taller than him, honestly he’s gonna he kinda put-off at first
not to any fault of your own, it’s because of his insecurity
kind of a “goddamnit i thought humans were supposed to be small, this is bullshit, i thought i’d finALLY BE TALLER THAN SOMEONE—“
so please don’t mention his height when the two of you hang out he gets very upset and pouty
for the first little bit at least
he warms up to you the more he gets to know you however, and his height complex really stops mattering when it comes to you
still likes to feel taller than you though
will stand above you when you’re sitting
or fix his posture when you enter the room
he’ll kiss your forehead and rest your head on his chest when the two of you are in bed
and if he’s really shaken by something, one of the only things that efficiently calms him down is you holding him
maybe having a partner that’s taller than him isn’t that bad
diavolo - 6’6 (198cm)
simeon - 6’2 (188cm)
barbatos and solomon - 5’10 (178cm)
luke - idk how kids are supposed to be like 4’9 (145cm) ??????
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meeting sirius black / asking you out would include...
a/n: idk why i’m having so much trouble writing lmao oopsies it’s been a hot minute. i’ve had 0 motivation for 0 reason anyway here u go request something pls :)
- he had his eye on you since the sorting hat ceremony
- he thought you were. so cute. and you being placed in the same house was him was just all the better
- while he had had interest, he didn't see you much after that first day and forgot about you
- until fifth year
- you were in the same potions class
- of course, it had been a while
- it wasn't until the middle of first term when he recognized you
- after dicking around with remus in the back of the class, the two of them were separated
- and your usual partner, severus, had gotten replaced
- you didn’t really know severus, besides the snide comments you’d received from him on more than one occasion
- but you weren’t too ecstatic about sirius either
- you prepared yourself for the most excruciating annoyance for a lifetime
- but it wasn’t that bad ??? surprise surprise
- it took a moment for him to piece together where he knew you from
- but when he placed it, he smirked to himself, although you didn’t seem too keen on talking to him with your head in a textbook
- he found it uncomfortably silent
- “i’m sirius, love.”
- “y/n.” you didn’t look up
- “love sounds better.”
- you hated that you blushed, but you did
- you told yourself it was just some pickup line
- but he had genuine interest in you
- it showed every day
- he’d keep talking to you
- and you started to warm up to him more and more
- not only metaphorically, but physically
- his constant compliments made your stomach do jumping jacks
- remus sat behind you during all that time
- and was getting increasingly annoyed at the slow burn
- “you going to ask her out, mate, or are you sitting around waiting for someone else to?”
- “oh, piss off, moony”
- that made him nervous though
- and he started to notice the lingering gazes from some ravenclaw fellow in your class
- when he watched him graze your hand to reach a jar of dried bat wings, he was fed up he got jealous a little too easily
- when you came back with the jars of ingredients, he spoke immediately
- “what do you think about going out with me?”
- “pardon me?”
- “what would you think of you and me getting together?”
- “i think it would be nice”
- “so are you asking me or not, wanker?”
- “well, yeah. i thought that was clear enough.”
- you knew who sirius was
- of course you knew who sirius was
- the blood trailer your house mates had shit talked into oblivion
- and while you weren't a believer that he was a blood traitor, you did believe he was complete and utter arse
- you'd been witness of him every day leaning against one of the doors to the great hall, with a different girl
- when quidditch season started up, you had joined the team
- and after an interaction on a training field, you had learned he was on his team as well
- it was a screaming match between your team captain and his
- you had to diffuse the situation
- “michael, come on, we still have time later. we don’t have a match for a few weeks. let it go.”
- you quite literally had to pull him away
- you made eye contact with sirius and james as you turned him away, and did your best to ignore the arrogant smirks that blanketed their thankfulness
- you saw him up close again at the match against gryffindor, standing across from each other and not breaking eye contact as the ref read out the rules
- once in the air, the game had been going swimmingly
- gryffindor - 7, slytherin - 10
- the game had traveled up farther in the sky with each point gained, the crowd could barely see you anymore with the amount of clouds
- it was a struggle in getting the quaffle
- “woah! guys, look out!” someone screamed
- you stopped your broom in its place and looked to see that everyone else had done the same, and you wondered what was going on
- you looked up, and saw somebody falling
- “holy shit, that’s sirius!” it was another gryffindor you couldn’t place
- no one was making any moves to save him, some continuing on with the game and snatching quaffles again— he kept falling
- “ah, bloody hell”
- you dropped the quaffle that had been tucked under your arm and quickened your broom’s pace as you dove down to catch him
- he was just beneath your grasp, your fingers barely touching his uniform
- when you finally got ahold of the fabric, he almost pulled you down with him
- you moved your grip to his forearm instead, and stopped your broom from diving down any further, or in just a few seconds you’d end up hitting the ground
- you were sure he’d be passed out
- but apparently not
- he brushed his hair out of his face with his free hand, then held onto the broom as he looked up
- “seems ive fallen for you, y/n.”
- “that is,,, absurdly lame, sirius.”
- it was through detention, of course
- you’d never noticed him because you’d been sleeping
- but he knew you
- or at least, he knew of you
- he thought you were so beautiful and he truly wondered how you kept getting into detention like this
- but he wasn’t complaining
- he rarely saw you outside of whatever classroom confined the two of you, so he knew what you were doing wasn’t as much of a spectacle as his pranks were
- could’ve been cheating, he considered
- but you were a ravenclaw, he figured it was doubtful
- sirius has never spoken a word to you, by the time he had reached detention each day you were already asleep. when it was time to leave, you were one of the first to escape
- until detention was held by professor binns
- he took wands, homework, any sources of happiness or busy work for the students to do
- including sleeping
- he wanted you to suffer in boring, magic-less silence with nothing to do but stare at the walls
- sirius was not having it
- when he got bored, he got really annoying
- he just kept asking questions
- “what’s the capital of the moon?”
- “do you reckon dumbledore keeps quills in his beard? as well as all the crumbs, of course.”
- it went on
- the continuous detentions was worth seeing you smile, even if it was beneath your hand
- you wondered if this was what you were missing out on all the times you slept
- when sirius wasn’t looking at you, you were looking at him, taking in his features
- he had almost caught you
- james definitely caught you
- but didn’t say anything, just winked in your direction to let you know he knew
- when james didn’t show up one day, sirius was alone
- or would have been, if he hadn’t sat down next to you
- “so, what’re you in for?”
- “would you believe me if i told you filch doesn’t like it when his office is broken into for fireworks?”
- he leaned back in his chair, almost impressed “hm. impressive............... but-“
- there was a long pause, and he pulled himself up again and rested his elbow on the table as he looked at you
- “i know a place you can get them for free. hogsmeade with me this weekend?”
- mcgonagall’s shushing broke the conversation
- silence again, just for a moment before she looked down at her desk
- “i’d love to.”
- he had run into you on the courtyard
- or rather, spotted you
- yelling unintelligibly at someone
- which is not what he expected from a hufflepuff
- a crowd was formed around you, occasional flinches as your wand waved around
- he weaseled his way through the crowd with his mates with a smile on his face, ready to spot some action
- he spotted the back of your head, arms flailing wildly as you yelled at an annoyed, but taken aback, severus snape over his continuous racist and arrogant comments about everyone and everything in the world
- which just made it even better
- sirius was losing his mind
- he had to hold onto james and remus as he laughed
- with an off insult saying "your nose is more inflated than your ego" and the accidental wave of your wand, a white spark had come out of it
- the rooting and howls of laugher had stopped all around the formed circle
- james, peter, remus and sirius has stopped as well and froze where they stood
- severus looked beyond your shoulder in shock and a smile crawled up his face
- you turned around quickly, mouth drawn open when you realized you had cast something
- a boy with dark hair was behind you, hands over his face
- when he pulled them away, his eyes were crossed in awe as he looked down at his nose
- it was twisting and turning, as it grew bigger and bigger and took up more of his face
- severus was laughing now
- “shut it” you said quickly, a short wave of your arm his lips were gone and replaced with nothing but skin
- his shouts were muffled and ignored
- “oh, my merlin. i am so, so sorry-“
- he started to laugh
- so hard he had to close his eyes
- his friends laughed with him
- “you’re laughing? you alright? that spell didn’t get to your head, did it?”
- he looked at your face for the first time
- oh, merlin, he didn’t expect you to be so pretty
- he was not ready
- this beautiful girl so worried and pampering him
- “is that your nose or are you just happy to see her, mate?” peter whispered, trying to hold back his laughter
- james was quick to speak when sirius couldn’t find his voice
- “oi! i think he deserves an escort to madame pomfrey, yeah?”
- “yeah, he’s not looking too well!” remus chimed in
- you began to walk him to the nurse, trying your hardest not to stare down the elephant on his face in the room
- “i’m y/n.”
- “i’m sirius.”
- his voice was more nasal than usual
- madame pomfrey was annoyed more than anything, but the trip lasted no more than a few minutes before his nose was back to normal
- you looked at him
- he was cuter without an absurdly large nose
- it was easier to see how the light caught in his eyes now
- “i’m so sorry-“
- “don’t worry about it, love. make it up to me with a trip to hogsmeade?”
- you were caught incredibly off guard
- “yes, i mean, yes. of course.”
136 notes · View notes
A Game for Those Who Seek to Find a Way to Leave Their World Behind
Summary: In which Dan finds a strange board game and ends up playing it (and releasing its horrors) with his best friend Carrie and arch enemy, Phil.
Word Count: 6.9k
TW: uhh there’s just some kind of horrifying things in there so idk good luck
Genre: angst? i guess? but it’s a happy end it’s like good angst
this is a thing now because i rewatched jumanji today and felt inspired (if you haven’t watched the movie it’s literally amazing you can find it online..... completely..... not illegal... ahem)(you can still read this even if you haven’t watched the movie but it’ll be better if you have probably)
Dan huffed angrily and slammed the door behind him, sadistically entertained when it resounded with a thud and his father’s angry voice followed behind him: “And don’t slam the doors!” He was glad to be out of his house, which felt stuffy and overcrowded despite the fact that it was only him and his parents living in it. He was convinced that they were taking up too much room, what with their egos so inflated.
Heart pounding with anger, Dan stomped into the woods to sulk, kicking stray branches and rocks as if they were the ones that’d offended him. He was getting into fights with his parents all the time, though he was sure that it was their fault rather than his. They didn’t understand him and didn’t bother to try to either, instead writing all his problems off as him being a dumb teenager whose problems weren’t serious enough to actually consider. It was because of this that he didn’t ever plan on telling them he was gay—he could imagine it now, how they would tell him it was just a phase or some bullshit like that. He was sixteen and hadn’t had a speck of interest in girls in his entire life, he was pretty sure he could tell his sexuality for himself, thanks.
Seated on a rock, Dan threw pebbles into the creek before him. It didn’t do much to alleviate his anger—he’d much rather chop down a tree or something drastic like that—but it was good enough to pass the time. He didn’t want to have to go back into his house any time soon.
It was just as he’d scooped up a fresh pile of pebbles that he heard it and paused in confusion. Straining his ears, Dan sat quite still and listened.
It was quiet, and kind of far off but… it was unmistakable. He was hearing drums.
Dan’s curiosity got the best of him and, without anything better to do, he climbed to his feet and set off down the river, looking around curiously as the drums grew louder the further he walked. They got louder and louder, so loud they were almost deafening, and still Dan didn’t see the source of the noise. Unease gripped him, so strong that he almost wondered if leaving his backyard had been a mistake, when he suddenly tripped on a rock and went flying forward, only to land roughly on the ground.
Groaning, Dan began to sit up, before realizing that he was face to face with a strange box, hidden half in the water and overlapped by rocks. The second he laid eyes on it, the drumming stopped.
Filled with apprehension, though curiosity as well, he reached out and grabbed the box, pulling it free of the surrounding rocks. It was worn and brown, and when he turned it over he saw a title written across the front: Jumanji.
Dan flipped open the sides of the lid, realizing at once that the thing he was looking at was a board game. And written on the side: Jumanji: A game for those who seek to find a way to leave their world behind. You roll the dice to move your token—doubles gets another turn; the first player to reach the end wins.
This sounded like exactly the game for Dan. He’d love to leave his world—and parents—behind for a little while, and feeling excited, he jumped to his feet and closed the game, crossing over the river and heading in the direction of Carrie’s house. Carrie was his best friend, and she’d do anything for Dan if he begged her enough.
Dan knocked on her front door mere minutes later, unsurprised to see that there weren’t any cars in the driveway. Her parents were rarely home—something Dan was immensely jealous of. The door swung open to reveal Carrie.
“Carrie!” Dan said excitedly, already inviting himself inside. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“What’s going on?”
“Well, I was upset because of a fight with my parents—”
“But I found this cool game in the river. Look.”
Carrie frowned, peering down at the box in his hands. “Listen, Dan,” she said. “I don’t know if now’s the best time…”
Ignoring her, Dan strutted into the living room, stopping immediately when he spotted Phil Lester.
“What’s he doing here?” Dan sneered. He knew that Carrie was friends with Phil, which was her only bad quality, honestly. He loved everything about her, other than the fact that she’d somehow come to be acquaintances with Phil Lester. He was a right arse, and he raised an eyebrow at Dan now, completely ignoring the venomous looks Dan was sending his way.
“Come on guys,” Carrie pleaded. “You know this stupid rivalry between you two is getting old.”
“Oh, well in that case, it’s about time we became friends!” Dan said sarcastically. Phil rolled his eyes.
“I apologize, Carrie,” Phil said, and Dan imitated him behind Carrie’s back. I apologize, Carrie. “I just don’t think I can get along with your… simpler… friends.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Dan scoffed, and Carrie groaned. This was why she never let the two of them near each other, if she could help it.
“Why don’t we all play the board game together?” Carrie suggested, gesturing to the game still held at Dan’s side. Dan wrinkled his nose.
“I don’t play board games with Phil Lester,” he said immediately.
“Scared I’ll win?” Phil rebutted.
With an angry huff, Dan slammed the game onto the table in front of Phil, letting the lids flap open. Phil didn’t deserve to play a board game as cool as this one looked, but he wasn’t going to take any shit from the other boy. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t really have anywhere else to go, and this might be better—or at least more entertaining—than going back to his house. And hopefully this way he could wipe the board with Phil’s smarmy arse and rub it in his face for the next weeks to come.
“Adventurers beware?” Phil read, reading the side flap. Dan looked up in confusion, before realizing that there was writing on both of the inside covers of the lid, and he’d only read the one. “Do not begin unless you intend to finish,” Phil continued. “The exciting consequences of the game will vanish only when a player has reached Jumanji and called out its name.”
“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Carrie muttered.
“It’s probably just the instructions,” Dan shrugged. “Supposed to sound creepy and intense. So? Are you playing or not?”
“I guess,” Phil sighed, sounding put-upon, but he dragged himself off the couch and sat on his knees in front of the coffee table regardless. Dan opened a compartment in the lid, pulling out three game pieces: an elephant, a rhinoceros, and a monkey. Dan set them down on the board, and flinched as they suddenly flew to its edges, stuck to their starting squares.
“What the fuck?” Phil breathed, and Carrie reached towards one of the pieces, trying to pull it off the board.
“It’s stuck,” she relayed, and Dan swallowed sort of uncomfortably. What were they getting themselves into? One look at Phil, however, had Dan sure that he wouldn’t back down, and so he cleared his throat.
“There’s probably some sort of magnet in them, or something,” he said unconvincingly. “Who wants to go first?”
“I will,” Phil said, holding out his hand for the dice. Dan rolled his eyes, finding this typical. Of course Phil would want to go first, thinking he’d probably get a good roll and get a good head start. He shook his hand before releasing the dice on the board. Immediately, his rhino piece began sliding the appropriate number of spaces forward, making them all flinch backwards in surprise, and the black sphere in the center started to shimmer before green letters appeared.
Before you can reach the end of this
A lover’s lips you’ll have to kiss
Phil raised an eyebrow at the board, before directing his stare at Dan. “Where’d you get his game again?”
“Found it in the creek,” Dan said, before reaching for the dice himself. Phil sighed in annoyance.
“It doesn’t even seem very fun. What did those words mean, anyway?” They’d faded by now, but all three of them had leaned forward to read them, surprised at their appearance in the first place. Dan’s guess was that it worked sort of like a magic eight ball, different responses coming up at random.
“I don’t know,” Dan admitted. “Maybe it’s kind of like a truth or dare game tied in. If you reach the end before Carrie or me, you’ll have to go kiss someone to truly win.”
Phil scoffed. “This game is stupid,” he muttered, and Dan just shook his head in annoyance. Phil was probably only good for complaining anyway. He rolled the dice.
If you find the dice reads eight
Your legs won’t work, to no abate
If you find the dice reads five
From your mouth words won’t arrive
“That’s strange,” Dan muttered, blinking as the words began to fade away. “What, if one of you rolls an eight, my piece can’t move anymore? That’s not fair.”
“I hope I roll a five,” Phil laughed. “Then I won’t have to listen to you talk.” Carrie gave him a reprimanding look for this, before reaching for the dice herself and tossing them onto the board.
Beware the pictures on the walls
They’re not as still as you recall
Dan read the words with a confused tilt of his head, wondering what sort of challenge that was supposed to be. Suddenly, however, Phil let out a gasp and shot to his feet. “Behind you!”
Dan whipped his head around, only to watch in horror as fingers gripped the edges of a painting on the wall, pulling behind it the rest of a person’s body. It was like watching the girl from the ring emerging from the tv, only this was real, and Dan was experiencing it. The girl looked up at them, looking exactly like the one in the painting that’d adorned Carrie’s living room wall for as long as Dan could remember, except her eyes were all black.
Her lips pulled up into an eery grin, more reptilian than human, and her teeth were razor sharp. With that, she let out a hiss, and bounded forward towards Dan.
“Run!” Dan shrieked, and he jumped to his feet, stumbling out of the way just as the girl charged past him. Phil snatched the game from the table and sprinted out of the room, Dan and Carrie hot on his tail.
“What the fuck is happening?” Carrie gasped, as they charged into the kitchen and slammed the door behind them. Phil flung the game onto the counter, as if it’d burned him.
“I am not playing that,” he spat, and Dan looked between him and the board game desperately.
“You have to!” Dan burst suddenly, realizing, horrified, what the instructions actually meant.
“Are you out of your mind?” Phil demanded. “You’d have to be mad to expect me to play after that… that thing crawled out of the painting!”
“But if you don’t play, it won’t go away,” Dan pointed out. “Do not begin unless you intend to finish—we have to beat the game if we want it to return to its painting.”
“Or we could just kill it,” Phil suggested, although now he was sounding uncertain. Just then, a rhythmic banging began on the kitchen door.
“It followed us,” Carrie moaned. And then, banging—but now from the wall on the opposite side of the room.
“Carrie…” Dan whispered. “Just how many paintings do you have in your house?” As he spoke—more banging. Now from the ceiling above them; and more, from another wall, and another! Phil paled, realizing that they had no clue what the painting-monsters were capable of, and finally suspecting that they wouldn’t be able to kill them all.
“A million!” Carrie despaired. “My parents—they love art!” The banging resounded all around them, and scratching as well, as if they were all dragging their nails over the surfaces between them again and again, hoping to dig through the walls.
“We have to get out of here,” Dan said suddenly, taking charge. “Let’s get somewhere safe and beat the game.”
Looking like they wanted to protest, though without any better ideas, Phil and Carrie followed Dan to the kitchen window, which he threw open before climbing out of. They followed after him and hurried away from the house, hoping none of the painting creatures could follow. They found themselves running instead into the woods, where they set the game onto a large rock and settled around it.
“Ready?” Dan asked, words that were clearly dreaded by both Carrie and Phil. Neither of them wanted to continue the game, but it wasn’t like they could just leave those probably deadly creatures in Carrie’s house, and so Phil ended up reaching out a hand for the dice.
“Ready,” he said solemnly. They all watched anxiously, their differences forgotten, as Phil rolled the dice and got a six, each die presenting a three. Dan felt like his stomach was in knots as his piece eerily moved by itself, before they all crowded over the top of the board, watching as the letters shimmered into place.
They come in packs
And bring bad omens
Beware of Death
When seen roaming
They all whipped their heads around frantically, looking for whatever nightmarish creature was going to appear next. Nothing appeared, however, not even when they waited for five minutes, even choosing to get to their feet in preparation to run.
“Maybe it’s not going to come right away,” Carrie suggested, sounding hopeful. “It said to beware of death when we see them roaming, but it didn’t say when that’d be.”
“Hopefully we can beat the game before we see them then,” Phil muttered, and silently held out the dice toward Dan.
“No,” Dan said firmly. “You rolled doubles—you go again.”
Phil looked shocked for a moment, and a bit frightened, but he visibly steadied himself. “Oh yeah. Forgot.”
With bated breath, they all watched as Phil rolled the dice. His rhino game piece slid forward on its own, and feeling like he might throw up, Dan leaned over Carrie to watch as the words appeared.
In the dark, you must stay
Until the game has finished play
“In the dark—” Carrie began to read aloud, but was immediately cut off by Phil crying out. His eyes were wide and frantic, and they darted about every which way.
“What’s wrong?” Dan demanded, and Phil flinched at the sound of his voice.
“I—I can’t see!” he gasped, and Carrie let out a horrified squeal. Dan stared down at the letters once more, sickened, but they’d already begun to fade away.
“It’s okay,” Dan comforted, though really he felt like he might be sick. Phil was blind right now—Dan couldn’t imagine being in that situation. And from the sound of it, he would be blind until the game was over, however long that took them. What if something happened to the board and they couldn’t complete it? Would Phil be blind forever? “We’re right here with you, we won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Oh yeah right, like I can trust you,” Phil spat. He flinched as Carrie reached over and touched his arm, but accepted it when she ended up gripping his hand instead. He continued to clutch it, looking feverish, as though it was his only tether to the world.
“We just have to keep playing,” Dan pointed out. “Once we finish, you’ll be able to see again—it says so in the instructions.”
“Fine!” Phil yelled, but Dan noticed that he looked distinctly more fearful than he did angry. “Roll, then.”
Dan had momentarily forgotten that it was his turn, and he reached out shakily for the dice. He was reminded anew of what horrors might be waiting for them, though he reasoned, silently, that he wasn’t likely to go blind as well, seeing as Phil already had. He rolled a two, each die landing on one. Dan cursed his luck at getting doubles as well.
Through your eyes, it can thrive
So close them if you wish to hide
“What…” Dan whispered. What could possibly…
“What?” Phil demanded. What does it say?
“It says to close our eyes,” Carrie relayed. “That it can see through them.”
“Good thing I’m already blind, then,” Phil pointed out bitterly, and Dan looked up at him, only to keep staring in shock. Behind Phil stood a figure, looking more ghost than man. It was like seeing a shadow, but instead of being flat on the ground, it stood tall—and where its eyes should be were only white. As Dan noticed this detail, an unmistakable grin unleashed itself across the creature’s face.
“Fuck!” Dan yelled, and he hurriedly squeezed his eyes shut. “Phil run! It’s behind you!”
Blinded by his own eyelids, Dan listened to the frantic scramble as Phil charged forwards, the unmistakable sound of leaves and branches cracking under his feet as he plowed towards—
“Oof!” Dan cried, suddenly knocked onto the ground, and instinctively, he opened his eyes. Immediately the figure—which had been standing where Phil had previously occupied—turned to face them, its sickening smile back on its face.
With a curse, Dan shoved Phil off him and jumped to his feet. “Get the game, Carrie!” he commanded, gasping as something clutched his leg. It was only Phil, however, who was actually blind, and Dan grabbed his hand instinctively as he started charging through the woods, one hand held out in front of them in hopes of not running head-first into a tree.
Their footsteps were loud as they crashed through the leaves and underbrush of the forest, though, from what Dan could tell, the creature didn’t seem to be gaining on them. Perhaps it couldn’t hear—the game had said that it saw through their eyes, not that it heard through their ears.
“Where are we going?” Carrie panted sometime later. Phil’s hand was sweaty in Dan’s grip, though he wasn’t sure if it was his sweat or Phil’s. Either way, Phil wasn’t complaining about it, and so Dan was grateful.
“No idea,” Dan readily admitted. After all, he could see no more than Carrie could. “Should we look around? See if it’s still following us?”
Instead of answering his question, Carrie said: “I don’t see anything.” Tentatively, Dan peeked through squinted eyes, scanning the surrounding forest carefully, prepared to shut them the moment he saw a creepy figure. Instead, he saw nothing but forest all around them, and he let out a sigh of relief.
“I think we lost it.” Phil leaned heavily against him for a moment, at that, and Dan tolerated it for a few seconds before shoving him off.
Carrie propped open the dreaded game at this news, and Dan glared at it, not excited to see its return. He dreaded what horrors would escape from it next, and he reluctantly sat down before it, realizing belatedly that it was, once again, his turn.
The dice felt malevolent in his palm, and Dan threw them, hoping for the highest number. He just wanted to reach the center of the board already, wanted to reach Jumanji. The dice landed—three. He groaned inwardly, though it quickly became clear that his low roll was the least of his problems.
Soon you shall see
Through your teeth’s clench
That though you’re hungry
Food cannot quench
“The hell?” Dan muttered, after reading the words allowed for Phil’s benefit. “What, I’m gonna be hungry forever or something?” Moments after he said this, however, he buckled over, clutching his stomach. It hurt.
“Dan?” Carrie called desperately, and he felt her hand on his shoulder. “Dan? What’s wrong?”
Dan groaned in response. Hungry, he thought. He opened his mouth to convey this, but his mouth was hurting too, aching horribly. He raised a hand to his mouth and had just barely opened it, prepared to allow his own finger inside, when a sharp sting exploded on his lip. With a hiss, Dan wiped the blood from his mouth. He’d cut his lip? With his teeth?
Dan tried not to move his mouth again, instead breathing deeply through his nose, except that he could smell something delicious nearby. It was mouthwatering, and Dan wanted nothing more than to find it, whatever it was.
Suddenly ravenous, Dan stood up straight, looking around wildly for the source of the smell.
“Dan?” Carrie said tentatively, and Dan spun to face her. He felt drunk the next moment, when he inhaled and smelt something so strong, so wonderful. Unable to help himself, he pounced, knocking her firmly to the ground and shoving her face into the dirt, bearing her neck to him.
Blood—yes, he needed blood! God—good, hot, delicious blood—he needed it thick and warm in his mouth, needed it in his stomach, all of it. Needed to not be hungry, to be full of delicious, wonderful, blood.
Carrie was screaming, which was God damn, annoying—his ears seemed more sensitive than normal. Dan planned to shut her up immediately. He bent over her, teeth pressed against her neck, when suddenly he was hauled backwards, his hands pinned to his sides.
“Let me go!” he roared.
“No!” Phil shouted back, and Dan struggled twice as hard. God, he hated that stupid, smarmy git! He would suck all the blood from his body! He would rip his throat from his neck! He’d eat his face, God! He didn’t even know how Phil had gotten to him, being blind and all, although maybe he’d heard Dan desperately panting over Carrie’s neck.
“I’m going to fucking eat you, Lester!” Dan cried, kicking his feet into the air.
“Dan, no!” Carrie cried, and suddenly she was pinning him down too, and Phil was sliding out from underneath him, until they were both holding him tightly in place and Dan was whipping his head from side to side, breathing in so harshly as if he could suck them closer to him, just for one bite, one sip!
“You can’t!” Carrie insisted, and suddenly she smacked him, hard, right across the face. “Fucking concentrate Dan. You don’t want to eat Phil. You want to beat the game and be human again.”
Dan struggled to concentrate on her words, but they rang true in his ears, and slowly, he nodded.
“Can we let you go?” she asked. Dan thought about it. He was hungry, yes, but a quiet part in the back of his head was steadily insisting that it didn’t want to consume his best friend. Or his… friend’s friend. Bad choice of friend. Phil probably tasted disgusting anyway.
Finally, Dan nodded. When both her and Phil let go of him, they backed away just in case, and Dan did the same before sitting down and hugging his knees to his chest. He tried to push his hunger out of his mind, tried to concentrate on what they needed to get done.
“Your go, Carrie,” he said through gritted (sharp) teeth. After rolling her dice (ten) she read aloud:
It destroys much in its path
And leaves a wretched aftermath
It’s cold and quick and fast and strong
It’d be wrong to stay—it won’t be long
“Jesus, we’re gonna have to run again?” Carrie demanded.
“I’m starting to wish I’d joined the track team,” Dan conveyed, and was surprised when Phil actually laughed. His laughter ceased quickly though, as the temperature around them rapidly dropped, and the wind picked up with a sudden ferocity.
“It couldn’t be…” he said tentatively, his unseeing eyes staring slightly to the left of Dan. “It couldn’t be a tornado, could it?”
The game, as if having a laugh, decided to prove that it could. The wind began howling in their ears, tearing at their clothes and ripping at their hair. Dan darted forward and grabbed Phil’s hand once more, his hunger momentarily forgotten as he began to lead them away from the wind. A glance behind them showed that there was a tornado not far off, and as Dan watched, a tree was ripped right out of the ground and sucked into it.
It quickly became apparent that they weren’t going to be able to outrun this thing (despite the fact that Dan felt strangely not tired), and so they exercised their next best option. They took shelter underneath a large boulder with a low overhang which the three of them shoved themselves under. It was crowded and definitely not as safe as Dan would’ve liked, but he accepted it for what it was. Carrie still had the game in her arms, which she was clinging to tightly as if the tornado might drag it away. Dan was pressed up completely against her side, and Phil was clinging to him from the other side, both of his hand buried in Dan’s shirt. Despite the terror from the tornado, he was starting to feel hungry again. He could feel them both pressed against him, warm with blood pounding freshly through their veins. Dan shook his head.
The roaring of the tornado grew steadily louder, and Dan wondered just what the hell would happen if they all died in it. Would the game reset automatically? Or would it and all its horrors stick around and continue to haunt their neighborhood?
“You should roll!” Dan shouted, over the sound of the tornado. A loud groan filled the air, quickly followed by crashes and harsh, sharp snaps. If Dan had to guess, he’d say that another tree had just been sucked into the tornado. He clenched his eyes shut as his stomach rolled, Carrie having turned her head to look at him and sent her scent wafting over him.
“What, and have a tornado and something else? What if fucking sharks start raining from the sky?”
“Sharks?” Dan said incredulously.
“I don’t know! Bears! Something!”
“Maybe the tornado will stop though,” Phil suggested hopefully. He gasped against Dan’s ear as another earsplitting crack echoed through the air. Dan didn’t say anything as he pressed even closer, his fingers digging knots into Dan’s shirt. Dan was going to eat him. He was going to have to eat him, he smelled so—fuck!
“Fine!” Carrie spat, and she unfolded the game in what little space they had and retrieved the dice. The second they hit the board the colossal roar around them quieted, and all that could be heard was their harsh breathing for a few moments. “Eight,” she said aloud. The board read:
Now you’ll find it can get quite cold
despite it breaking the season’s mold
“God dammit,” Carrie whispered.
“We’ll have to go inside,” Phil said, and they both began climbing out from under the rock.
“Wait!” Dan cried, trying to struggle forward to no avail.
“I can’t—I can’t feel my legs,” Dan said, using his hands to drag himself out from under the boulder.
“Fuck!” Phil suddenly cried. And then he repeated Dan’s first roll: “If you find the dice reads eight, your legs won’t work, to no abate.”
“I forgot about that,” Dan whispered, and then Carrie and Phil were grabbing his arms and hauling him out from under the rock. He was soon situated on Phil’s back, his arms around Phil’s shoulders, his legs dangling uselessly around Phil’s waist. The smell of Phil’s blood was overwhelming when he was this close, his neck offered to Dan practically on a silver platter.
“We have to go,” Carrie was saying, and her hand was intertwined with Phil’s, leading him forward, but Dan couldn’t concentrate. He pressed him nose against Phil’s neck, inhaling deeply.
“Uh… Dan…” Phil began, but Dan ignored them. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about them or this stupid game or anything. Dan clenched Phil’s shoulders powerfully with a sudden, renewed vigor, and he sunk his teeth into Phil’s neck, moaning as the first drops of blood graced his tongue. He sucked, drawing gulping mouthfuls of warm blood into his mouth and swallowing greedily, moaning at the wonderful, marvelous taste.
Vaguely, he could hear a girl screaming and yelling, but that was irrelevant when he was experiencing the pleasure of this. Suddenly, a blow landed to his head, and Dan was flung from Phil’s body before slamming into the ground, unable to move again. Phil was glaring in his general direction, once hand clutching his neck, fingers red, and Carrie looked absolutely furious.
Suddenly, Dan remembered just what the fuck was going on, and he stopped being angry and indignant and starting being apologetic. “Oh shit!” he cried. “I’m so sorry! Phil I’m so sorry!”
“You’re a piece of shit,” Phil stated, and Dan nodded. He wasn’t wrong, after all.
“I couldn’t help it…”
Giant clumps of snow started raining from the sky then, and they all stared up at in in horror (Phil sightlessly). After all, it was the middle of the summer. Still, they should stop being so surprised by out-of-the-ordinary things—it wasn’t like the game wasn’t warning them first.
“We have to go,” Carrie said briskly. “I don’t doubt that this will turn into a blizzard in no time—we have to get indoors.”
“Look!” Dan gasped.
“Look,” Phil imitated in falsetto, obviously still peeved. But Carrie gave the appropriate response, gasping when she laid eyes on the figures in the distance. They were huge, prowling dogs, much larger than any dog Dan had ever seen.
“Giant dogs…” Dan muttered.
“No,” Carrie said. “Hellhounds. Omens of death.”
“Now?” Phil moaned. “So we’re gonna die?”
“Maybe they’re gonna chase us,” Carrie suggested.
“They’d better not. I can’t run,” Dan pointed out.
“We have to get out of here,” Phil said. The snow was building up quickly on the ground, which he could no doubt feel, even if he couldn’t see it. Dan readily agreed.
“I won’t suck your blood this time, I promise,” Dan said, and Phil kicked snow in his general direction.
“If you do, I won’t pick you up again,” Phil muttered, and then Dan was being, once more, lifted onto Phil’s back. He was good this time, just clinging on and not drinking Phil’s blood. He felt much less ravenous now that he’d had some, and he didn’t feel so out of control that he’d end up drinking anyone else’s blood any time soon.
He kept a sharp eye on the hellhounds, expecting them to come charging at any minute, but they didn’t. They just sat and stared creepily from the distance, their eyes dark, dark, dark.
“We can go to my house,” Dan suggested. “It’s closest.”
When they arrived, the wind was howling and the snow was falling fast and fierce. Already it was more than a foot high, and Phil and Carrie had had to work hard to get through it. Once inside Dan’s house, they breathed a sigh of relief, knowing they weren’t going to die of the cold.
“Maybe we shouldn’t play for a while,” Carrie suggested. “I mean, we’re safe for now—we could just take a break.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Dan said, and Phil helped him sit on the counter. Phil then felt his way over to one of the kitchen chairs, which he immediately sunk into. “The snow might not stop until we roll again.”
“And Dan might lose control and kill one of us,” Phil pointed out. Dan huffed.
“I won’t,” he protested, but his friends ignored him.
“We have to be smart, though,” Carrie pointed out. “If something like those paintings coming to life happens again, we’ll have nowhere to run—we’re snowed in.” She was right. Even during the few minutes they’d been inside, the snow seemed to have doubled.
“We should prepare ourselves then,” Dan said. “You know, get weapons and things.”
“You start getting knives; I’ll go upstairs and grab blankets and things, just in case the heating breaks.”
With that, Carrie was leaving the kitchen and Dan was riffling through the drawers, sliding along the counter to get to them and searching for anything and everything they could use. Phil was silent where he was sitting.
“What do you think happens if one of us dies?” Phil asked, staring blindly at the counter top. Dan swallowed thickly. He’d thought the very same question many times himself.
“Well, I don’t know if I’m right but I’d imagine we’d be able to continue the game without the missing person,” Dan said slowly. “And then when we won, they’d be brought back to life.”
Phil shuffled uncomfortably. “It’s okay to be afraid,” Dan said softly.
“I’m not,” Phil snapped, and he crossed his arms over the countertop and put his head on them.
Dan turned away from the other boy, shaking his head with something like exasperation, and pulled open yet another drawer. He was just reaching for a wooden spatula, wondering if they could perhaps use it as a projectile, when a piercing sheik came from upstairs. Phil sat up immediately, and Dan spun around on the counter, his blood thrumming (eerily, Dan realized that his heart wasn’t pounding. And when had that stopped, exactly?)
“Carrie?” Dan yelled. “Phil, carry me!” he insisted, and then they were running to the stairs, Dan directing Phil hurriedly. “Carrie what’s wrong?”
Carrie appeared at the top of the stairs, pale and panting. “Don’t come up here,” she said quickly.
“What? What’s going on?” Dan demanded. Carrie bit her lip and looked behind herself cautiously, before turning back to Dan.
“Dan,” she said. “Your parents… your parents are dead.”
Seated around the table, Dan stared at the board game numbly. It was dark—mainly because the snow was half way up the windows and the cloudy cover had taken most of the sun’s rays with it. It’s just a game, he reminded himself. This’ll all be over when we beat the game.
“Are you okay?” Carrie asked softly. It took Dan a few moments to realize she was talking to him.
“What? Yeah. Of course,” he said stiffly. “Whose turn is it again?”
“Mine,” Phil said quietly. Dan pressed the dice into his hands, shivering when their fingers brushed each other.
“If you get a twelve, you win,” Dan said quietly. Phil nodded curtly. Getting a six on both dice was a minuscule possibility, and they all knew it.
Holding their breath, they watched as Phil rolled the dice. Dan ground his teeth together angrily as they both landed on three.
“Doubles,” Carrie said quickly, for Phil’s benefit. Dan read aloud:
They’ll come in dozens
Quick and sprite
The Raven’s cousin
Fast as light
Bang. Carrie shrieked, and they all spun to look out the window, where the sound had originated from (Phil instinctually, seeing as he couldn’t actually see what it was).
“What is it?” Phil demanded.
Bang. Thud. Bang. Thudbangthudthudbangthud.
Like rain, birds were flying into the window at top speed, red splotches of blood appearing where they hit. Uncaring for their survival one bit, they poured into the glass and sides of the house (from the sound of it), cracks spiderwebbing along the windows from the sheer force of their impact.
“Birds,” Dan quickly relayed. Phil looked shocked and horrified.
“I—I think they’re Stymphalian birds,” Carrie whispered. “From Greek mythology.”
“Who the fuck knows Greek mythology?” Phil demanded.
“What do they do?” Dan also demanded, his question more important.
“Well they’re—they’re flesh eating birds,” Carrie answered.
“Fucking perfect!” Dan yelled. With that, there was a crash somewhere upstairs, and Dan groaned. “Roll again Phil! Get a six and you win!”
The dice were shoved back into Phil’s hands, which he shook sporadically before throwing in the board’s general direction. One landed in the game, and the other hit the edge and when flying.
“One!” Dan called, looking at the die that had landed in the game. Carrie cursed and jumped to her feet, sprinted after the other one, still rolling, rolling, rolling. Dan could hear thudding from upstairs, birds colliding with walls and ceilings, their shrieks loud and maddening. The die rolled to a stop, and Carrie collapsed to his knees beside it.
“Six!” she called out, and flung herself back to the table to watch Phil’s piece. It slid all the way to the space before the black sphere, and then it stopped. Words appeared.
Before you can reach the end of this
A lover’s lips you’ll have to kiss
“Fuck!” Dan exclaimed. “You never kissed anyone.”
“Before you can reach the end of this, a lover’s lips you’ll have to kiss,” Dan shouted. Somewhere close by, glass shattered. “Kiss him Carrie,” Dan commanded, throwing his arm out at her. She sent a worried look to Phil, who obviously didn’t see it.
“I don’t know if that’ll work…” Carrie said hesitantly.
“We’re about to get eaten alive by birds, fucking kiss him!” Dan yelled, and Carrie, possibly frightened by his shouting, leaned forward and pecked Phil on the lips. Dan watched the board eagerly, waiting for Phil’s piece to move into the center, but it stayed put. Dan let out a cry of despair.
“Why isn’t it working?”
“Because she’s not my lover,” Phil piped up. Dan growled.
“Well sooo-rry, but we don’t exactly have time to go traipsing around town to find whichever bint—”
Suddenly, Phil was stumbling in Dan’s direction—he can’t punch me blind, Dan randomly thought, half prepared to dodge—before he found himself with a lap full of Phil Lester, and then a mouth full of him. Phil kissed him fiercely, his teeth nipping at Dan’s lip, and Dan found himself clinging to Phil’s shoulders, half wondering why? and half not having a care in the world.
He felt supremely dizzy, almost as if the entire world were spinning around him, but that might’ve just been because of Phil’s tongue, which had swiped its way into Dan’s mouth. Dan enjoyed this for approximately two seconds before he panicked, thinking he was going to rip Phil’s tongue off with his fangs—which… weren’t there. Dan was suddenly completely aware of the fact that his mouth was back to normal, and he wrenched himself away from Phil when he heard someone clear their throat.
“So, the whole hating each other thing was just pent up sexual frustration?” Carrie pondered aloud.
“I—what?” Dan spluttered, stumbling away from Phil. Then he realized that they were in Carrie’s living room, not his, and he spun around wildly, looking wide-eyed at the painting behind him. It was very much occupied, the occupant quite still, and Dan breathed a sigh of relief. “I think you’re gonna have to get rid of that painting. And all of them.”
“I can see!” Phil suddenly shouted, realizing with a sudden clarity what all of this meant. Dan realized that he was standing as well, his legs in working order again.
“I can’t believe we’re alive,” Carrie whispered, and Dan sent a fearful look at the game. Jumanji.
“We have to get rid of that,” Dan said venomously, and together they stuffed the game into a bag, and then another bag, and another bag. Finally they sprawled ‘do not open’ across the outside and carried the bag with them. They went to the furthest reaches of town (via Phil’s car) and dumped it into the river, having shoved an abundance of rocks inside it as an incentive for it to sink. Faintly, Dan could hear drums, and he felt sick.
“Do you hear that?” Phil whispered.
“Ignore it,” Dan replied, goosebumps having risen all along his body.
After that, they dropped Carrie back at her house, where she claimed she was going to sleep for seven years after all the trauma (and exercise) she’d been through, before going to Dan’s. He was quite relieved to see his parents alive and breathing, though he wasn’t relieved when he remembered the argument they’d been having before he’d left.
Dan ended up taking Phil to his room, where they collapsed on his bed and cuddled, trying to keep their minds off the horrors they’d experienced that day. And once Dan got his strength back he planned to tell his parents that he was gay—after all, he didn’t really know what they’d say until he told them.
And while it was easy to say whole-heartedly that Jumanji sucked—Dan thought as Phil ran his hand through his hair—he couldn’t argue the fact that without it, he and Phil wouldn’t have… well, this.
“Hey Dan,” Phil said some time later, and Dan hummed inquisitively into his chest. “I knew I was going to win,” he laughed, and Dan pinched him. Phil might’ve won Jumanji, but Dan had won the real prize.
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They Always Listen to The Sheriff
Fic Request: Anything with future Stydia where Stiles as a cop who is married to Lydia and they have a kid(s) and idk they’re just like a really cute little family.
Genre: Fluff, Slice of life, Established Relationship
“Sheriff Stilinski!” A deputy calls from the main office area of Beacon Hills Police Department.
“Sheriff Stilinski’s my father. Call me…” Stiles’ eyebrows pull together when he tries to think of an alternative, but he comes up with nothing. “I guess I have to stop saying that.”
“Right…” The deputy stares but then looks down at a stack of papers. “Uh we’re getting calls from the middle school. Bunch of kids keep spray painting penises on the parking signs. Looks like a bunch of the lockers were filled with scrambled eggs, too. Who the hell thinks of this crap?” Stiles sighs, knowing exactly who the mastermind behind the pranks was.
“I’ll take care of it, they always listen to the Sheriff.” Stiles adjusts his belt and reaches for the cell phone in his pocket. “Hey Lyds,” he says when the other line picks up. “We got an incoming in about an hour. Be ready and have your game face on.” His voice mocks the tone of Dispatch.
“Stiles, I told you I’m not into the whole roleplaying thing. I tried it for you but that was the last time.” Stiles blushes, remembering Lydia in a slinky police uniform.
“No no no, not that. Situation at the middle school. Penises and eggs. I think you know who.” Lydia let out a groan that Stiles coined “boiling acid in the pits of hell.”
“I told him if he’s not at Max’s house like he says he is one more time he’s grounded and-!” Stiles holds the phone away from his head to protect his eardrums. He was still too young to need hearing aids. When he brings it back he’s driving away from the station with sirens on.
“I can’t hear you, Lyds! Sirens!” He calls into the speaker. “Save it for him!” Stiles and Lydia Stilinski had figured out that scare tactics were the only ones for their children. Aside from Ally, who’d decided to behave since leaving the womb. Stiles was sure she had a shrine to the devil in her closet though. The siren would make Noah wet his pants, Stiles worried. But that was part of the “this will work” plan. His dad had done it to him and by golly did it put him in line. At least until Mischief Night in high school became a thing that he had to do. Innocently enough to not need bailed out of jail, but bad enough to be fun. “Dad’s not gonna write off on it this time?!” Stiles had panicked as an eighth grader, the night he’d cut the word “fart” into the front lawn of the middle school.
Stiles mussed his hair, greying at the edges, and shielded his eyes with sunglasses when he approached the driveway of the school. The sirens had been a good warning, but he knew Noah would use his old hiding places. Stiles was disguised enough with the darkness outside but he decided to deepen his voice for effect. Not without a bad southern accent. “Alright you little…pieces of…kids!” He annoyed even himself, rolling his eyes as far as he could take it.
“Crap, that’s not your dad is it?!” Someone whispers sharply from behind the giant Beacon Hills Middle School sign.
“Come on, get out here. I know you’re back there.” Stiles balances himself on the wet and grassy hill.
“These are not the droids you are looking for?” An unsure voice lightens the mood.
“Noah.” Stiles shines a small flashlight and catches a scuffed sneaker and ankle sticking out from behind the sign.
Noah sighs, popping his ice cream scoop hair up into sight and then emerges completely. “You were supposed to say, ‘I am your father’.” Stiles points at him, trying to force the grin from his face, slightly proud. “Even Scott would have gotten that one and he hasn’t even seen Star Wars.”
“Git!” Stiles calls to Noah’s friend, using the fake southern drawl. A blonde streak is made across the yard when he bolts in the direction of town. “You. Here.” He points to the ground beside him and Noah sulks along. Stiles grabs his ear and pulls him to the car. “You get to sit in the back!”
“You have to admit it was a good one.” Noah chews his lip in the backseat, Stiles chews his in the front. Noah’s strawberry hair caught Stiles’ eye from the rearview mirror. He couldn’t believe how similar his face looked to Lydia’s, save for the constellation of moles. He directed his fascination away when he was veering off the road, stupid-happy over the life he’d built with Lydia.
“I mean, scrambled eggs?” Stiles asked and looked over his shoulder. “Pathetic.” Noah’s shoulders dropped. “For all the work you put in, you should have used over-easy.” Noah’s frame inflated again, lips curving up. “Or at least poached. Maybe throw some hollandaise sauce in there. With scrambled there’s not even much mess.” Stiles winks in the mirror. “Your mother is pissed though.”
“Dammit.” Stiles feels Noah’s forehead hit the back of his seat.
“Puppy-dog face it up, man. It always works. She’s a big ole’ softy.” Noah taps his fingers on the door in a nervous rhythm. When they make it to the door, Lydia swings it wide open.
“You have five seconds to get to your room or I start screaming.” She points to the stairs, her ponytail flinging around, hair falling to her face. “Five.” Lydia begins counting with a stern voice.
Noah looks to Stiles with relief and retreats to his bedroom. “I’m still taking your phone!” Lydia calls to which Noah lays it on the top step.
“Sorry, mom,” he says sincerely. They all knew he was just having fun, just trying to make some friends. But it was how often he misbehaved that drove Lydia off the edge. It amazed Noah, how just making his mother’s stress levels go up riddled him with guilt. She loved him for it though, how much he reminded her of Stiles when they’d just became friends.
Lydia exhales and closes her eyes. She leans back onto Stiles’ chest when he comes up behind her to kneed her tight shoulders. “Ally’s asleep on the couch. She said she has a vocabulary test tomorrow and needs to get her beauty rest.” Stiles chuckles and rolls his eyes.
“Sleep sounds nice, huh? Long day?” He plants a kiss from behind to her hairline.
“I subbed for two physics periods and my own classes.” Lydia had left the big leagues after college and decided to stay local, teaching at Beacon Hills High. Something she couldn’t identify had pulled her back. It was then, when she’d called the police to report missing chemistry equipment, that an old flame pulled up looking ridiculous, sirens blaring. The hug they shared that day made up for a lifetime.
“Go on up, get comfortable. I’m gonna tell Ally goodnight.” Lydia turns in Stiles’ arms. He melts against her when their lips touch. They anchored each other in the moment. Stiles watches Lydia make her way up the tall staircase. Her leggings were tighter in certain places now. Her hips were plump where they weren’t in high school, thighs strong and muscular on the tops. Lydia’s arms, too, had built up strength from picking two close in age children up until they were three. The evolution of her was Stiles’ favorite thing in the world. He longs to look more after she disappears at the top of the stairs.
Stiles rounds the corner into their expansive living room. On the recliner was a small dark-haired girl. Her legs sprawled out over the arm rest and a book lays open across her face. Stiles plucks it off of her gently and dog-ears her page. Irish Mythology. So that was why the lock on the closet had been picked, he thought to himself. Ally’s choice of accessories were a dead giveaway as well. Her grandpa’s old Sheriff’s badge was pinned to her shirt pocket. It used to collect dust in a box marked “Dad’s House.” A necklace her uncle Scott had given her was twisted in her hair, not safe to be sleeping in. “An Allison Original for an Allison 2.0,” Scott had called it and presented the crest-shaped necklace to her on her seventh birthday. Stiles carefully removes it from her neck, her mouth wide open. Snores assaulted his face. “C’mon, kiddo. You’ll get a crook in your neck sleeping on this thing.”
“Book. Reading,” Ally mumbles but stays limp when Stiles scoops her up.
“You can finish reading tomorrow after school.” He moves smoothly up the stairs, careful not to hit her feet against the railing. Flicking the lamp on in her room, he lays her down on purple blankets, covering her up with one and tucking it around her small form.
“Promise?’ She asks, voice sleepy.
“Promise what?” He brushes her messy blunt bangs from her forehead and kisses it lightly.
“Promise you’ll let me keep it?” Stiles gives a breathy laugh.
“I promise. There are a bunch more like that locked up in the safe in the basement.” He offers, willing to find the old keys and have them in her room for her by tomorrow night.
“I’ll figure it out.” A sly smile breaks across her face and she turns over. Her turn-up nose makes an elf like shadow on the wall.
“Goodnight.” He turns the light off. Some nights she tells him, “sleep with one eye open,” or just, “goodnight, daddy.” But tonight she was too sleepy for either. He closes her door slowly, quietly. Entering the long hallway, he sees Lydia and Noah at the end of it.
One of her hands pets the back of his head, him standing taller than her five foot, three inch height. Stiles stands at the side and keeps back to not interrupt them. “I love you, mom.” Noah tightens his hug on her.
“I love you too.” Lydia reaches up and ruffles his hair. “Get to sleep. No video games please.” She pulls his phone out of her pocket and hands it to him. “Not even games on your phone.” Lydia winks and sends him into his room, the screen lighting up his face.
Lydia spins on her feet and gestures to the other side of the house with her head. Stiles grins and meets her halfway. “Hello, sweatpants. I’ve missed you.” Stiles hugs his comfortable clothes against his face before stripping to put them on. Lydia had already cuddled herself under the pillows and blankets strewn out across the bed. “Is it warm under there?” He begs.
“Sent from the gods.” Lydia’s arm pops out to turn on the bedside lamp and claps off the ceiling light. It was something she’d demanded be installed after Stiles had come to bed silly and drunk after poker night with the boys, leaving all of the lights on in the house after she’d already gotten cozy. “Come hither,” Lydia beckons. She holds up one end of the heavy comforter for Stiles to crawl under.
Their noses touch as they lay side by side. “Noah said you used a southern accent this time.” She giggles to which Stiles responds, “why in tarnation would he say that?” The twang is undeniable.
Stiles tips an invisible hat towards her. “Howdy, m’lady.” Lydia laughs and takes his face in her hands.
“Howdy, cowboy.” She pulls his face even closer to hers, catching his mouth with her lips. He breathes out, relaxing into the bed, pulling her to lay gently on top of him.
“I love my life.” He sighs, putting his forehead to Lydia’s.
“I was thinking the same thing.” Lydia’s eyes crinkle at the sides in a smile and when he looks up at her, his do too. Stiles pushes her hair behind her ear and kisses her cheek softly. Lydia eventually lets her weight press down on him, his arms wrapping her up under a light sheet. A bit of energy still flowing through him, he moves one hand down to lightly pat her bottom. “Stiles!” She scorns when the lights flip on from the clap sound, but snuggles against him, content.
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090318 & 100318
Yesterday was... amazing. Picked up the Japanese students at school from their company visit to Daikin earlier in the morning. We marched (not literally) to FOX Networks Group (located at Fusionopolis) for another company visit. Before that, we made a short stopover at a bakery, but I went over to the mama shop and bought a curry puff. A handful of the staff gave us a tour around the premises -- a couple of studios, transmission room, and what not. Afterwards was a presentation about how FOX Sports’ advertisements and programme strategies are utilised to reach the market. It’s an eye-opening experience to know the BTS of a broadcast sports TV network, and we had fun fooling around in front of cameras and screens. We had refreshments and I watched my friends play table tennis at the pantry (yes, there’s a fking table tennis table in the office). I received a FOX Sports goodie bag as a souvenir -- a blue drawstring bag with FOX notebook and pen, FOX Sports pen, FOX Sports pin, and USB portable fan. I also seized a couple of FOX+ candies and FOX bottled water because I know they’re gonna come in handy HAHA.
We brought them to Haw Par Villa. The last (and first) time I’ve been there was 2 years ago. It’s a place filled with hundreds of vibrant (& absurd) statues depicting various Chinese legends to teach people about (Buddhist) morals and values. I believe the showcase of the 10 Courts Of Hell (a cave-like place consisting of statues of people being tortured in Hell for committing crimes) is intended to scare people into doing the right deeds. I hope they enjoyed themselves under the scorching hot weather HAHA.
Next stop was Sentosa. We stopped over at a supermarket in VivoCity, whereby I experienced episodes of “loss of awareness”. I’ve had this problem since Primary 6, whereby I could not shake off this weird sensation of feeling unsteady & shrunk consciousness. Idk what exactly this “condition” is called, but it’s annoying and it occurs in crowded places or large, open areas. My method of coping is to just try not to think about it, and I progressively felt better.
THERE WERE WE BARE BEARS INFLATABLES EVERYWHERE IN SENTOSA BEACH. 😍 We took the monorail to Palawan beach and crossed the bridge to the “Southernmost point”. Chilled and took pics, but was chased out due to a private event being held in the evening. We stayed on the sand and watched the sun set across the horizon; the sky splashed with bold orange and pink. Truly a magnificent sight -- coming from someone who’s been to Sentosa numerous times. We waved bye to the sun. “See you tomorrow!” 🤣🤣
We bought takeaway food and ate in Vivo rooftop. We formed a circle and played “Never Have I Ever/I Have Ever”. The first few people to lose their 5 lives have to do a forfeit (which in most cases is an embarrassing Dare). Lol it was fking stupid to throw our faces away, but at least we had a good laugh and that’s all that matters really -- to make our Japanese visitors smile.
Otw back to their dorms, I found out that Atsuya used to play Vainglory, so I showed him my Vainglory account and he noted that his favourite characters include Blackfeather, Gwen & Taka. He watched me play a Blitz match and it was horrible because of the poor connection in the underground train. 🙃 Once we dropped them off & were about to walk out of the gates, they waved “bye” at us from the corridor of their apartments. 😂😂 Ah istg these bunch of Japanese students are the cutest. I’m gonna miss them oh so much.
I didn’t sleep until 4AM; I believe it’s the ‘can’t sleep love’. Finally created a LINE account so I could stay connected with the Japanese students. Sigh, I genuinely treasure the hilarious moments we shared; how I wish I could be permanent friends with them despite our language barrier. I feel like I’m very in tune with my love-related emotions today -- makes me wonder if I’m emotionally attracted to anyone from yesterday. Some of them have been updating their social media, so I have an inkling of what they’re up to. I’m worried for Kaito; that quiet boy actually went ahead with his crazy plan to visit Malaysia by himself. 😵
I went to the temple in Bugis and prayed for myself, my family, and my Japanese friends. Manae was in Bugis too (and later on, Atsuya & Toshi were there as well), but we didn’t cross paths. Had curry rice for dinner. Oishii. 🍛
I felt the “dizzy” spells again, so I didn’t want to stay for long. As I was walking towards the MRT station to go home, I saw what seemed to be a lesbian couple. Being the internalised homophobic I am, I lowkey judged them for shamelessly holding hands in public. To my utter amusement, one of the girls was my choir mate. 😲
“OH HEY” *brofist*
“Who’s that, your gf?”
“Yeah, she’s my gf,” *turns to look back* “Oh wait, where did she go? Byee.”
“I like your long hair!”
(btw it’s a joke; they’re just friends)
I love it when people compliment my hair; sometimes I felt that growing it out was a bit of a mistake because the helmet bob was my trademark. When I alighted the train to switch lines, I saw my classmate and we both gasped at each other in surprise HAHAHA. We chatted about what are/were our plans for the semester break until she had to alight at her destination. Always lovely to commute with a friend to make a long trip less dreadful. 🤗