#or when you get mad at them for not centering their au around the ship you like. all of this includes when you do it behind their back‚ btw

[the-smiling-doodler]

slams my head violently against the wall /neg

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

Didn't know about the Roku novel?. So basically Zutara fans got mad about the fact that the Fine Nation was portrayed as evil and Air Nomads as good?. Man, that was already a sentiment in the fandom, but i guest this is the first time they said it out loud.

Also, as a BBRAE shipper, i feel the cringe with your answer, because it is true lol. I'll say that the main difference with Zutara, is that the girl is the center of the conversation more than the boy, at least in my expirience, that goth girl really marked a generation lol. Still, is amazing how Zutara manage to be worse 😬

Oh unfortunately I know all about their freak out over the bad guys being shown as bad. I wish I could delete that information from my brain. Second-hand embarrassement REALLY gets to me XD

"Goth girl really marked a generation" she sure did, and I've had a type ever since XD

I don't even think shippers focusing on the guy, or just having a clear favorite character between the two they ship, is bad. It isn't. It's just a preference. Hell, it's not even wrong to like a ship with a character you don't think that much about just because they'd look pretty next to their fave. It's all for fun.

But zutarians go on and on and on about their ship being "the feminist ship" and "the female gaze" and "made by women, for women" and calling Kataang fans misogynistic - then turn around and clearly not give a single fuck about Katara as a character, only as a potential pretty trophy for Zuko, and as a bonus reduce Mai to every sexist stereotype imaginable to make her look back.

Again, that's a level of "take the L already" that Beast Boy and Raven fans never got. I've seen a lot of cringy shit, entitlement and straight up delusion, but I've NEVER seen them act like any other ship with Raven is somehow "reducing her character to a mere object to please the male gaze" only to then demonstrate through their own writing that they CLEARLY do not have any interest on her as a character, just as arm-candy for their favorite boy.

Now, onto what actually matters here: Mai and Raven would be great friends if they lived in the same universe. They'd be the cool "aloof" goth girls. Maybe they can even hang out with June when they're older. They could swap Starfire and Ty Lee for a day just to see what happens.

...Actually now that I think about it, Raven would fit just right in the Avatar universe. Instantly iconic? Check. Funny as hell? Check. Cool powers? Check. Meditates a lot? Check. Seemingly doomed yet getting a happy ending anyway? Check. Daddy issues? CHECK!

Okay, someone write a modern AU crossover of ATLA and Teen Titans please, I don't got the time to do it and I need it in my life.

[callsign-rogueone]

Loved your Bodhi x reader x Garrick fic, just amazing.

Kind of a platonic ask; but do you think any of the marked ones, both your au and in canon, ever tried to do something nice for Xaden on his bday? I mean someone had to know to keep chocolate cake around the Riorson house for Violet to grab a slice to give to him.

Any of the girlfriends? (Def seeing Duchess, Darling, or Angel) Maybe even Garrick, Liam, or Bodhi?

thank you 💗 and oh, absolutely.

I feel like Xaden is the kind of guy who doesn't really see a point in celebrating his birthday or care about it at all, so only a few people know when it is.

he’s also impossible to buy presents for, because first of all, he’s loaded and could buy anything he wants, but also, he doesn’t really want anything. he’s a very practical guy, with no real hobbies besides working out and trying to keep all of his friends alive, and he never talks about wanting anything material, either.

in my au, I could definitely see Garrick and Angel (and later on, Bodhi and Liam and the second-year gfs) finding some way to do something special for him each year at Basgiath, but keeping it kinda quiet, because they know he doesn't like to be the center of attention. maybe one single chocolate cupcake appears in his room with new daggers or some other small, practical presents (including a wood carving from Liam, of course.)

he might talk a lot of shit about not caring about the day, but it still means a lot to him to have his friends remember and care. he shows up at breakfast in an uncannily good mood, wearing the new daggers or whatever else they got him, and gives them a quiet thank you. of course, Garrick is going to squeeze the life out of him in a hug and mess up his hair, and there’s that scowl we know and love again — but you all know that he isn’t really mad.

if they're at Riorson house, Duchess is going to make a slightly bigger deal of it bc that's her little bro!! she's doing all the Tyrrish birthday traditions (whatever they are), Darling is baking a cake for him with Angel… X just lets it happen because he knows the women won’t budge. his one concession is that there’s no singing — anything but singing. and there is absolutely no way you're getting him into one of those paper hats, either.

in canon, I think it would be pretty similar (quiet celebration, little gifts for him to find), but Garrick is doing most of the work (and then eventually Bodhi and Liam too as they come to Basgiath). Garrick knows his birthday since they grew up together, same with Bodhi, and Liam would have learned it in their years of being fostered together. 

when Violet figures it out (Liam or Bodhi would tell her, because they're captaining this ship) she’s going to do something special for him too. chocolate cake is definitely happening, and maybe a long heartfelt letter for him to find in his room. and there's going to be a lightning storm around midnight that everyone is going to ignore hehe

I loved this ask, thank you! now I'm wondering when his birthday is. I've seen some people say that it's in March, but idk if that's just a popular headcanon or if it's somewhere in the books and I missed it. hm.

[emberunderscore]

the mutiny fight with rae and icarus. i brainrot so hard I CARE SO MUCH.

If you haven't seen my au yet, Rae = Eurylochus, Icarus = Odysseus, Perimedes = Caspian, Circe = Momboo

------

Rae stares around in horror at the blood and gore covering the ship. He approaches Icarus, who stands at the bow of the ship staring at the open ocean ahead.

“Tell me you did not know that would happen, say you didn’t know how that would end. Look me in the eyes and tell me, Captain, that you did not just SACRIFICE SIX MEN''

Icarus doesn’t turn, their shoulders tense, telling Rae that they heard him.

“Use your wits to try and say I’m crazy and mad. That this is all some trick the gods have sent.” Rae gestures at the blood covered ship behind him “Tell me you did not miss home so painfully bad. That you gave up the lives of six of our friends!”

Rae steps closer to Icarus, they are continuing to ignore him but he can see that they’re reaching the end of their tether. Their hands grip the railing so hard their knuckles are white and their whole body is visibly tensed. Rae is getting angrier each moment he is ignored.

“When we fought the cyclops, you were quick to hatch a plan, and when we fought with Momboo, it was you who left behind no man. But when we saw this monster, we didn’t take a stand. We just ran”

Rae grabs Icarus’ shoulder, pulling them to look at him. “SAY SOMETHING!”

“I CAN’T” They yell and push him away, shoving past him and walking away

“Then you have forced my hand” Icarus turns to see Rae readying his bow

“Lower your weapon” Contrary to their words, Icarus reaches for their sword

“No can do. You miss your love so bad, you’d trade the lives of your own crew” He aims the bow at them, his hands shaking slightly, but his aim will be true.

“Don’t make me fight you, brother, you know you’d have done the same” Icarus’ own sword is fully drawn, they know better than to ready it though, they know Rae won’t come closer, instead they ready their stance so they can dodge his arrow and run towards him.

“If you want all the power you must carry all the blame” 

Rae looses the arrow, but Icarus is prepared and jumps out of the way. They begin their run towards him. He notches another arrow and shoots, Icarus dodges it again. Rae begins to run too, towards Icarus. This catches them off guard and their sword isn’t ready. He’s able to get past them, running towards the center of the ship, putting enough distance between them and ensuring he isn’t cornered when Icarus gets closer. 

Icarus is startled, having to stop and turn, giving Rae enough time to notch and shoot another arrow. They attempt to dodge but are too slow and the arrow hits them in the left shoulder. They let out a cry of pain but luckily for them, they can still fight. 

They continue their run towards Rae, and the two continue their dance of Icarus swinging and Rae continuing to put distance between them.

Rae reaches for another arrow, but finds his quiver empty. In panic he glances at it, giving Icarus enough time to close the gap. They bring their sword down on him and he instinctively uses his bow to block. It snaps in half and Icarus pushes him to the ground. 

They raise their sword, pointing it down at him. He looks up at them, a pleading, begging look in his eye. But there is no mercy in theirs.

“I am not letting you get in my way!”

Icarus feels a sharp pain in their stomach, Rae sees the sword stab straight through them. Rae crawls away, getting up when he’s far enough from them.

When the sword is removed they collapse to the floor, where Rae had been previously. They turn and look up to see Caspian holding his sword coated in their blood. They see the rest of their crew standing behind him, and they see as Rae joins beside Caspian. 

“My brothers, why?” They manage out through the suffocating pain. They grip the wound hard, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

“How are we supposed to trust you now?” Caspian begins “Now your time has come, your luck’s run out. Now, the time has come to shut you down, you relied on wit and then we died on it”

Caspian readies his fist and punches them hard in the head, combined with the blood loss it’s enough for them to pass out.

The crew turns to Rae. He’s second in command to Icarus and the one who’s always stood up for them when they needed it.

“We continue on this path, stop at the first island we see. Caspian, you’re in charge while I tend to their wounds”

“Why not let them die? They were going to kill you”

“I know, but I have to help them. They’re my brother” 

The crew clears off, returning to their positions and continuing on the course they were currently going. 

Rae fetches bandages and carefully wraps them around their stomach. By the time he’s done, Caspian is beside him.

“Sir, we’ve landed at an island, like you ordered”

Rae carefully picks up Icarus and some rope. Taking them onto the island. He sees the fields of cows that greets him, and the large statue in the middle of it all. He ties Icarus to it gently, he just can’t help but care for them. 

Out of habit he reaches for his bow to hunt, but remembers how it broke in his fight with Icarus. He glances down at them bitterly, and sees them begin to stir.

[leffee]

esteban thoughts? especially in regards to his dynamic with vinnie (romantic or otherwise) cause its so funny to me and i love it

Well well well, those two have my heart and mind right now.

Yeah, all thoughts I have about Esteban circulate around Vinnie anyway, so that will sure be the center point of all this.

I just love it because it's the only relationship I can imagine for Vinnie where he does not have his cherishing his partner/friend quality because while he genuinely likes Esteban he's also consistently pissed with him.

You know the stuff with how I think about Esteban: he met the main 7 one day, lied to them about his adventures, Vinnie was the only one who decided to check this "viral" legend only to confirm his suspicions but was unable to tell the rest of them and then at the end of the day Esteban did something brave (but honestly idk what that could be in human au :/) and Vinnie promised not to reveal his secret, so like in the episode. Except that the way I think about it after a while Vinnie was like "You know what? Actually I'm not fine with this, the guy lied about something so big!" but... he has already promised he would not tell. And let me tell you, when Vinnie makes a serious promise he will not break it. So what do we end up with? Vinnie who does like Esteban, yes, but also is upset with him about something he can't tell anyone.

Which results in him acting really tsundere-ish with Esteban. And if we're talking about him getting a crush on Esteban? Oh boy, it'd be even worse! He almost doesn't care if there's a possibility Esteban feels the same, quite frankly he'd rather he didn't so he can hopefully get over this and just forget. And then it turns out Esteban does in fact feel the same and Vinnie reluctantly starts a romantic relationship with him. And God he's not having a good time. But also he does. He's conflicted and he hates it. The way he always was he gets obsessed, if he were to have a boyfriend he wanted to cherish him and love him, breakfast in bed kinda stuff. But with Esteban he just... can't. He wants to, but he is also mad. Some part of him genuinely hates or at least dislikes Esteban for that one thing, he just can't let go of disliking his lying habits (the hypocrite- then again Vinnie does not lie about things like that or for praise).

And let me tell you, everyone else is so confused. Vinnie does not act like that with anyone else, let alone some he calls his friend/boyfriend. Sure, he can be teasy, poking some fun every now and then, but if he likes someone then you can tell for sure he does. And if he hates or dislikes someone else he's open about it too. And here's that contradiction, he says he likes Esteban, but then there's that tsundere-ish attitude and sometimes he really looks like he wants to kill him.

Esteban had no idea at first. As far as he was concerned Vinnie told him they were fine, and looked very genuine while doing so (and yeah, at the time Vinnie really was) and especially at first when Vinnie realized he was still upset he tried to hide it, especially from Esteban. Until he gradually stopped, mostly. Esteban was confused a little but at the same he thought maybe that was just their dynamic so he kinda embraced it, treating it with a laugh and a wink. Honestly maybe that's what Vinnie found so attractive about him. He likes being teased oop. He's still pissed but his love is growing and dang it he needs that man's lips on his-.

One and only kinda enemies to lovers ship I can accept. Except that Vinnie is the only one who sees it this way.

In short: Vinnie: >:( Esteban: :). That's their thing

[seethesunny]

Fic writing meme

Doing this again, this time tagged by the one and only @hypnotisedfireflies, thank you soooo much Chica! 💗

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

45! Forty-five! Mind you, it's been only a year since I came back to the gig lol

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

A very humble 260, 213 amount of words I've offered y'all 🤲🏼

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Again, I have to be in the right mindset (aka brainrot) to write for something, and The Last Of Us already got that space occupied for now 🫡

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

It is late now, I'm a bit tired; the sky is irritated by stars. (And I love you, I love you, I love you.) — first installment in my Jackson series, Tess lives au, and a sick fic all in one, TLOU.

hoax — that one rapple fic about them coming to term with non expressed feelings, EAH.

it is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world — the second installment in my Jackson series, 10k words being a Tess’s character study, TLOU.

I was lost within the darkness (until I found you) — family prompts fic collection, TLOU.

two slow dancers (last ones out) — ficlet collection centered around Joel and Tess with a variety of ratings, genres, and universes; aka my dumping ground, mind the warning. TLOU.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Always do and always will. They’re precious and important 🥹

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Whumptober is the outright answer. However, any of my canon compliant fic (joel misses his apocalypse wife) can fill that spot. Some of the ones in the ficlet collection are pretty tragic and grim, so angst is adjacent to it.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Those would be the ones where I'm delusional correct and Tess is alive and thriving 🫡

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I rarely get the normal type, so no. Luckily, no one is hating on my fics and if they do, I'm not aware 😝

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Uhhhhh yes, actually embarrassing the amount of pwp that has been posted bc I don't have self-control 🧍🏽‍♀️The kind ranges from very sad poetic introspective work to reallyyyy kinky nasty stuff. Idk what that says about me, and neither I care.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don't vibe with them, sorry.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Again, no, as far as I can remember. But that's never cool, so don't even think about it. I vibe with so many things but not that :/

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! I had the idea to translate my own stuff to Spanish, but there wasn't an audience for that.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Tap into tlou time loop madness co-written by @tessaservopoulos and yours truly <3 we have more stuff coming up next, so stay tuned.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Nice try, I don't have favorites

I say, as I shove a picture of Tess and Joel into my front pocket.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Staring at my graveyard of multichapter fics that are on creative hell: for starters-

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm very good at conceptual/poetic stuff. I'm a control freak (complimentary). I would die if I didn't nail characterization. AUs. Uhhhh babyfic. Compelling ambience.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Pursuing multichapter storytelling. I'm a control freak (derogatory). Dialogue. I can get too much inside my head. Not writing in my mother tongue, so not the best vocabulary. Writing when I'm sleepy (a sin).

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

For the love of God, do not use Google translate and take the time to consult the language you're gonna use if it's gonna be a recurring thing 🫶🏼 all my respect and love to writers who get to do their research, y'all are doing amazing sweetie.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I used to (terribly) write anything I could get my hands on, so no idea? Could've been anime to a very niche flash game from the 2010s.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I'm never ever toping this tribute to flutterings. If I ever leave, I hope my legacy is this work, and it continues to haunt readers forever and ever and ever 🫶🏼

Tagging fellow talented peeps: @tessaservopoulos @beerandyarn @wardenannie @vaelyrians @ammotraguslervia @electricbluebutterflies

[sorry-apsalar]

Frender Drabbles: Same as all the Other Meatbags, Right?

Summary: I would like a writing set in a pirate AU. I don't know why I see Bender so fucking good as a pirate, really. The plot, centered on Bender as captain, I would like the Planet Express crew and the main characters of Futurama to participate, occupying the respective roles that would correspond to this AU. At first, he believed that being one of the most famous and feared pirates was what he really wanted, all the treasures he wanted for himself. But, in one of his adventures and battles, he met a mermaid (Fry). And secretly, from that moment on, he never stops thinking about whether he would ever see him again. I would like you to have a memorable encounter in one of his battles, where Bender ended up injured and far from his ship, I leave it to your imagination <3.

Prompt was given to me in Spanish so here is the original before I ran it through google translate in order to understand it. "Quisiera un escrito ambientado en un AU pirata. No sé porque veo a Bender jodidamente bien como pirata, en verdad. La trama, centrada en Bender como capitán, me gustaría que la tripulación de Planet Express y los personajes principales de Futurama fueran partícipes, ocupando los respectivos roles que se les corresponderían a este AU. Él al principio, creía que ser uno de los piratas más famoso y temidos era lo que en verdad deseaba, todos los tesoros que quería para él. Pero, en una de sus aventuras y batallas, conoció a una sirena (Fry). Y en secreto, desde ese momento, no deja de pensar en sí alguna vez lo volvería a ver. Quisiera que hicieras un memorable encuentro en alguna de sus batallas, en donde Bender terminara herido y lejos de su barco, lo dejo a tu imaginación <3."

~

Lucky for Bender, when he’d been washed overboard it had been with a keg of ale. Fuel and something to hold onto to stop himself from sinking into the crushing depths of the ocean. Unlucky for Bender was that the gale had combined with the roar of canon fire had drowned out his calls for help. And now, his ship was well on its way to disappearing over the horizon.

But hey, at least the gale had finally cleared up. Leaving him bobbing up and down on the barrel as he watched his ship, leave. They’d won the battle naturally, the other ship now a floating wreck. So why hadn’t they turned around yet? Surely they’d noticed their captain was missing by now. They owed everything to him! He’d led them to far more success than they ever could’ve hoped for without him. So why wasn’t Leela turning the damn ship back around to come look for him?

He’d had swam towards them but the canon ball that had hit him had taken out one of his legs. A minor injury but how was he supposed to swim with one leg? He wasn’t designed to swim in the first place, very few robots were because the whole, metal sinks thing.

The barrel was already riding higher in the water with how much he’d drank from it. When he ran out of fuel would he be able to attach himself to it to stay afloat? Getting saved from such a state would be a long shot but far better than his chances of surviving the ocean’s depths. … What would it feel like to get crushed like a tin can by metric fuckton of water? His body could endure a lot of damage but probably not that, right? Meaning he was pretty damn screwed if he couldn’t keep hold of the barrel somehow. Which also meant he was pretty damn screwed in general.

“Come back, assholes!” He shouted after the ship, loud as he could. There was no way they heard but it made him feel a bit better anyway. “Turn around or I’m gonna be real mad.”

“I don’t think they can hear from all the way over here.”

Bender barely held back a flinch. Instead he turned to look at where the sudden voice had come from. A red-headed human floating in the water next to him, looking out towards the ship. “Where the heck did you come from?”

The human turned their head to look at him. “I swam up. Are you real robot?”

“What the hell else would I be?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen a real robot before. I thought the water was supposed to be bad for them.”

Bender scoffed. “As if mere water could hurt the likes of me. I’ll have you know that I’m Bender Bending Rodriguez, the world’s most famous and feared pirate captain.” He would be one anyway.

“I’m Philip J. Fry but you can just call me Fry. I’m uh… just a merman, nothing special.”

Ah, that explains where he’d come from then. “A merman, huh? I’ve never met a merman before. Can’t say I’ve ever cared to though. You’re basically the same as all the other meatbags, right? Except you live in the ocean.”

Fry shrugged. “I guess so. Anyway, you need help getting back to your ship? I can push your barrel.”

If most of him weren’t under the water, Bender would’ve looked him up and down, trying to find what he was hiding. Trusting him would be foolish but well, Bender wouldn’t be getting himself back to the ship any time soon and Leela didn’t seem to want to turn it around to come back for him. So he didn’t have many other options here. “What’s the catch?”

“Uh… no catch. I just think robots are cool and have always wanted to meet and talk to one about land and robot stuff.”

“So you wanna help me back to my ship as an excuse to hang out?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Bender wasn’t sure he believed that but who wouldn’t want to hang out with him? And what other choice did he have? “Sure. You may help me get back to my ship. Not that I can’t get back to it myself of course, just I’m too lazy too.”

“Okay.” Fry dove under the water. He came back up a moment later, right next to Bender. Close enough that his arms brushed up against Bender’s as he put his hands on the barrel and started to swim, his powerful tail propelling them forward at a pace that was fairly quick but… even with the ship slowed by the damage it had taken from the battle, it would still be a long while before they reached it. And likely Fry, as was the case with all biological beings would have to stop to rest and eat every so often, making the journey take even longer. But at least Bender was finally properly moving towards his ship. He’d just have to get used to his new companion.

[fandom-smut-shots]

Keith Kogane - I’m Not Going Anywhere

Not Going Anywhere

A/N: Modern life AU.

Also, any genders and pronouns are acceptable to request. If not specified, I default to female, because that’s the majority of reader inserts in my experience.

Summary: You’ve been dating Keith for about six months, but you’ve only recently met his group of friends. He’s worried that they each have more to offer you than he does, and his insecurities eat away at him until you calm him down.

Words: 2,063

           “Your girlfriend is coming to the party, right?”

         Keith froze, glancing up at Shiro where the older man stood beside the stove, preparing a pot of spinach artichoke dip. He was a disaster at cooking actual food, but he’d managed to learn to prepare dips like a boss.

         “Uh…” was all the black-haired boy managed in response, shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

         “Come on, Keith,” Shiro chided gently, employing his best Older Brother voice. “You’ve been seeing this girl for, what, six months now? I think it’s time I met her. And what better time to introduce her to the gang than at your birthday party?”

         “Do I have to introduce her to everyone?” Keith whined, glaring down at his breakfast. “Can’t she just meet you and be done with it?”

         Shiro sighed, turning to argue when he caught sight of his brother’s expression. Keith wasn’t one for expressing his emotions, so Shiro had learned early on how to read the arch of his brow and the shine of his eyes. Keith currently looked crestfallen, which given the circumstances meant that insecurities were buzzing around inside his head.

         “It’s going to be fine, Keith,” the older boy commented, taking a seat across from Keith at the table. “Everyone is going to love her, and she’s going to love your friends.”

         “That’s what I’m worried about,” was all Keith murmured before he stood, setting his cereal bowl in the sink before turning to skulk down the hallway towards his room.

           “I’d love to go to his birthday party!” you squealed into the phone, balancing it between your ear and your shoulder so you had free use of your hands. “I’m almost done decorating his cake. I could bring it with me!”

         “He’d love that,” Shiro chuckled on the other end. “We’re not a baking-inclined family, so it’s always store-bought cakes for us.”

         “He told me he just wanted to do something simple to celebrate with me,” you returned, swirling icing atop the cake to add calligraphic decoration to Keith’s name. “I wonder why he didn’t tell me you were throwing him a party.”

         “He doesn’t like being the center of attention,” Shiro reasoned.

         You hummed in agreement. “That’s true.” Setting the piping bag on the counter, you paused, a frown forming on your lips. “It’s not… He wants me to come, right? He won’t be mad that you invited me?”

         Shiro sighed into the receiver, and you bit your lip nervously. “He’ll be upset that I went behind his back, but I know him very well, and I think he’d enjoy the party a lot more if you were there. He’s just nervous about you meeting his friends. They can be a handful.”

         “If you’re sure,” you replied. The last thing you wanted to do was upset your boyfriend while trying to celebrate his birthday. “I’ll be there. With a cake.”

         “Perfect,” the man on the phone replied. “I’ll see you tonight. It’ll be great, I promise.”

         You hung up the phone and set it on the counter, admiring your handiwork on your boyfriend’s cake. Exhaling softly, you tried to believe Shiro’s words. Everything would be fine.

           Your heart hammered in your chest as you approached the front door of Shiro and Keith’s shared house. Carefully balancing the cake with one hand, you raised the other to knock on the door, waiting patiently but anxiously for someone to answer. The door opened to reveal Shiro, smiling widely upon seeing you on the other side.

         “(y/n)! It’s so great to meet you!” he greeted enthusiastically. “I’m Shiro, Keith’s older brother. I apologize if I startled you with that phone call earlier – I wasn’t sure Keith would actually follow through and invite you.”

         “He didn’t,” you giggled. “I don’t mind at all. I’ve been wanting to meet you for months.”

         “Let me take that for you,” he offered, easing the cake out of your hold. He headed inside, nodding for you to follow him. You closed the door behind you, following the tall man- like seriously, how was he that tall?-  into the kitchen. There stood a thicker boy, nearly as tall as Shiro, stirring and chopping like a professional chef.

         “That cheese sauce smells amazing, Hunk,” Shiro complimented the cook, placing the cake on the counter.

         “It’s almost done- ooh, where’d the cake come from?” the cook inquired.

         “Keith’s girlfriend.”

         The spoon being used to stir the cheese sauce fell to the floor with a clink, gooey cheese splashing all over the tile.

         “Keith’s what?!”

         The tall, tanned cook spun on his heel, a grin splitting his lips as he caught sight of you. “She’s real!”

         Shiro laughed softly, stepping closer to you. “Hunk, this is (y/n). (y/n), this is Hunk, our resident chef. He shares a few classes with Keith.”

         “I’m an engineering major,” Hunk explained, offering his hand. You placed your comparably tiny hand in his, giggling softly.

         “It’s nice to meet you. Keith has mentioned your cooking.”

         Hunk’s eyes sparkled at the confirmation that the emotionally constipated raven appreciated his food before he turned back to the stove.

         “Hey, Shiro, what-“ Keith stopped in his tracks as he entered the kitchen, his eyes widening as he stared at you. “(y/n)? What are you doing here?”

         “I invited her because I knew you wouldn’t,” Shiro explained.

         “It’s okay that I’m here, right, babe?” you questioned, brows furrowing with worry as you took Keith’s hands in yours.

         “Babe?” teased an unfamiliar voice. “Keith lets someone call him babe?” A tall, thin brunet sauntered into view, resting his elbow on your boyfriend’s shoulder. “Hey, who’s the hottie? She’s- ow!”

         Keith’s elbow collided with the brunet’s rib, and he stepped away.

         “Yeah, it’s okay,” Keith murmured, lacing his fingers with yours, but you could hear the uncertainty in his voice. You stood up on your toes, pressing your lips to his, and he melted into the gesture despite having an audience. The brunet from before whistled at the sight, and Keith pulled back with a glare in his eyes and a blush on his cheeks.

         “I’m (y/n,” you introduced, offering your hand.

         “The name’s Lance,” the tan brunet grinned, taking your hand in his and lightly kissing your knuckles. You simply raised a brow in response, unsurprised when Keith ripped Lance’s hand away from yours.

         “She’s taken,” he growled, wrapping an arm around your waist. You giggled softly, resting your head on Keith’s shoulder.

         “Is that everyone?” you inquired, looking towards Shiro.

         “Hunk!” another voice called from the hallway. “Are the nachos done? I’m starving- oh, hey.”

         Finally, someone not insanely tall.

         “I’m Pidge,” they offered, lifting their hand to their head in a salute. “You must be Keith’s girlfriend.”

         “(y/n),” you countered. “Are you another friend of his?”

         Pidge stole a chip from the bowl on the table, popping it into their mouth. “If that’s what we’re calling it. I’m friends with Lance and Hunk, and they kinda forced Keith to join the group.”

         “I encouraged it,” Shiro replied. “My brother needs social skills.”

         “I have plenty of social skills,” Keith grumbled in response.

         Lance snickered loudly, Pidge choked on a ship, and Hunk chuckled from his place at the stove.

         “I got myself a girlfriend without your interference, didn’t I?” your boyfriend defended, his grip around your wait tightening.

         “How did you two meet, anyway?” Pidge questioned.

         “I’m an art major,” you replied. “We met in Interpretive Painting.”

         “Keith takes art classes?” Lance gasped, his voice raising several octaves.

         “Makes sense,” Pidge shrugged.

         “Interpretive Painting?” Hunk repeated. “That sounds like fun.”

         “Ah, someone who will encourage my brother to keep working on his art,” Shiro smiled. “I already love her.”

         Keith used his hand on your waist to guide you away from the others, leading you to the living room. He sat on the couch, pulling you onto his lap, securing his arms around you. Your own arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers toying with his thick raven hair. His nose nuzzled into your neck as he inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of your body wash.

         “Why didn’t you want me to meet them?” you inquired softly. “They seem nice.”

         “Too nice,” he murmured against your skin. “They’ll take you away from me.”

         You pulled away from Keith just enough to lift his head, caressing his jaw with your hand, gazing softly into his violet eyes. “You don’t really think that, do you?”

         His gaze dropped somewhere behind you – a tell that the current situation made him vulnerable and insecure.

         “You heard them in there. I’m not social. How many times have you told me I suck at texting back? If you hadn’t been so friendly, I wouldn’t have even been able to ask you out.”

         “So?” you questioned, brushing your thumb across is cheekbone. “I’m dating you, aren’t I? If you being anti-social was an issue, I wouldn’t have said yes.”

         He sighed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “Lance is better at romance and dating. Pidge is smart, and you like a lot of the same games. Hunk can cook actual meals. They have more to offer you.”

         Your heart broke at his honesty. You knew how hard it was for Keith to be so open, even with you. He must have been dreading the day you met his friends if he was this concerned about it.

         Taking his face in your hands, you lifted his head until you can access his mouth. You gently pressed your lips to his, pouring your emotions into the kiss. He sighed softly against your lips, his arms tightening around your waist. You let one hand slide back to tangle in his hair, gently tugging on the strands.

         “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised between kisses. “I love you, Keith. Befriending your friends means I get to spend more time with you and learn more about you. They’re not going to take me from you, I promise.”

         “Dinner is done!” Hunk’s voice called from the kitchen.

         You slid off of Keith’s lap, much to his dismay, and offered him a hand. “Come on, babe. Let’s go eat.”

         He took your hand, lacing your fingers and squeezing softly as he followed you into the kitchen. Chips, cheese, meat, and vegetables decorated the table as a homemade nacho bar for everyone to dig into. Keith’s amethyst eyes danced around the kitchen, landing on an unfamiliar container on the counter.

         “What’s that?” he inquired, turning his gaze to Hunk.

         Hunk grinned. “(y/n) brought it.”

         “It’s your cake,” you replied, shoving a fully-coated nacho into your mouth.

         “You made me a cake?” Keith questioned, his eyes softening as he looked at you.

         “The plan was for us to have a private party after you were done here,” you shrugged. “When Shiro invited me, I figured I might as well bring the cake.”

         Keith dipped his head, pressing a loving kiss to your lips. Lance and Pidge cat-called from somewhere behind you, but Keith didn’t seem to mind. Shiro smiled from behind Keith, shaking his head softly.

           After dinner and cake were thoroughly enjoyed, you followed Keith and his friends to the living room to watch movies. He sat on the couch and you reclaimed your place on his lap, snuggling into his chest. His hands intertwined with yours, his fingertips brushing your knuckles, and you peppered soft kisses to his jaw, reminding him that you were his.

         While everyone was enthralled in the movie, you turned to face your boyfriend. You untangled a hand from his in order to lift it to his face, cupping his cheek. He turned his gaze from the movie to look at you, a soft expression in his eyes that only you were allowed to see. You shifted in his lap, pulling his lips down to yours. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, gently nipping at your lower lip with his teeth. You were tempted to give in until you recalled your company, reluctantly breaking the kiss and settling back against his chest.

         “I’m not going anywhere,” you murmured softly, squeezing his hand as you watched the movie. The kiss he pressed to the side of your head told you that he understood, and while you knew his insecurities wouldn’t be magically washed away, you also knew that he was trying and that was more than enough for you.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

the house, m | ot7 | phase one

full title: the hell house

pairing(s): ot7 x reader

phase one (hyung line) >> phase two (maknae line)

summary: Welcome to the Hell House. Some call it resident evil. Some call it a haunted house. Some call it a waste of space (rude). Enter if you dare – the Doctor will ensure that you never come out the same. What's that? Why are you going with your seven fuckbuddies? You wouldn't... fuck in there, right? (Yes, you would.)

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, MAD HORNY CHAOTIC ENERGY; unprotected supernatural monster sex (you will never be in these situations... at least, I hope not o_o); crack; fluff amidst the wild fucking; hyung line smut (fem reader, slight D/s dynamics in some scenes, multiple orgasms, nipple play, handjob, m and f-receiving oral, penetrative sex, ass eating, creampie, edging, cowgirl; this sounds normal but it is not, I am just avoiding spoilers except: futanari warning); non-idol!AU - ot7 x sex friend!reader; each member has their own scene in their POV

appearances based on PTD On Stage + the Doctor 'journey' au, although can be read alone when I said this is a harem hentai featuring you and BTS, I meant it it is 25k+ words, so it had to be split into two parts, sigh

--

"I'm going to die. Tonight, right here. It's gonna happen. I can feel it. I'm too handsome to die. I'm the main character. The main character can't die."

"Is Seokjin-hyung okay?"

"He seems fine to me," replied a deep, bored voice.

"Ican'tdothisohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodwhyamIherewhatislifewhydoweexist?"

"And Hoseokie-hyung?"

"Here, Hoseok, have some tea," Min Yoongi said calmly, putting his arm around Jung Hoseok, who was wearing all white, relaxed sweater layered over a large dress shirt, track pants with a neon rainbow stripe, complexion included. Hoseok stared up at the looming large house with the black metal gates. He took the silver thermos from Yoongi with shaking hands and took a sip, his large brown eyes darting from side to side, taking in the moonlight reflecting off the cracked windows, the missing or broken black shutters, the exposed, weathered brick, and the sign at the front held up by a plastic skeleton.

WELCOME TO THE HELL HOUSE! KINDLY AWAIT YOUR TURN TO DIE. THANK YOU.

Hoseok sputtered and jerked his head to Yoongi. "Ack, is that ginger?!"

Yoongi shrugged, black leather jacket creaking. "Good for the indigestion you're inevitably having right now." His dark silver-gray hair caught the moonlight, lighting up his amused expression as Hoseok fanned his tongue and complained, forgetting about the terrifying haunted house in front of them.

"Where's the troublemaker that suggested this?" Kim Taehyung muttered, hands on his hips.

"With the other troublemaker that's not going to get scared at all and laugh at us," Park Jimin muttered, popping up next to him wearing the same pumpkin sweater Taehyung was wearing.

"Why are you guys matching?" Kim Namjoon wondered out loud, scratching his head. His hair was still short and dark, more black than brown.

"Because I accidentally ordered two," Jimin sighed.

"Wasn't an accident. You wanted free shipping."

"I meant to get a different design, but I had waited too long and the other designs were sold out."

"The things we do for free shipping," Namjoon mused sagely.

“Hey guys! Heeeeeeey!”

“Ah, the troublemaker.”

“Both of them.”

“You’re dressed up,” Yoongi mused, tilting his head as you ran up to the group.

“Of course, I am! It’s Halloween!” you exclaimed, waving your giant fake syringe around. Short, tight white minidress with red piping, white thigh-thighs attached to a red garter belt, white loafers. Long sleeves, because you weren’t about to freeze, prop syringe, tiny white hat with a big red plus sign at the center. Oh, and a white face mask. Safety first. “I’m a nurse.”

“Did you nurse Jungkookie back to health?” Yoongi snickered, cocking an eyebrow at the mint-haired man behind you, stumbling to a stop, panting hard. He was wearing a white shirt and a black fleece jacket, along with pumpkin sunglasses. His hair was a cool mint, silver right eyebrow piercing glinting above the smiling pumpkin lens, silver lip ring gleaming on the right side of his lips.

You placed you hands on your hips, beaming proudly. “I did!”

“You railed him.”

Jeon Jungkook choked. “What, no, I obviously–”

“Hell yeah, I railed him!”

Jimin and Taehyung burst out laughing as Jungkook tried to refute you. Namjoon, Seokjin, and Yoongi smiled knowingly. Hoseok was as white as a sheet, even whiter now that his hair was black.

“G-Guys, did you hear that…?”

A crow cawed loudly, silencing everyone.

Seokjin clutched Namjoon like a rosary, jerking him from side to side. “H-H-Hear what, what am I supposed to be hearing, Hoseok?” he yelped shrilly as Namjoon sputtered dizzily, putting up his fists even though he had no idea what he was supposed to be fighting.

Everyone crowded around Hoseok in a semicircle, looking towards the empty street, suddenly aware that no one was around, suddenly realizing that the street was deserted and it was a bit foggy, and suddenly that was much weirder than the haunted house behind you because where had all the people gone?

You brandished the giant fake syringe like a sword, looking out to the vacant street and flickering streetlights.

“Nice butt,” Yoongi commented behind you.

“Hyung, this isn’t the time to – oh wow, nice butt,” Jimin said distractedly. “There’s even a little red bow in the back. Cute.”

“There is? Oh, that is cute,” added a deep baritone voice. You suddenly felt Taehyung’s hand on your butt. “Ah, always so fun to squeeze. Your legs look great too. Jungkook, get your hand off her other butt cheek, you selfish little shit–” Oh, that was the owner of the other hand. You turned to your right to look at the black blob that was probably Jungkook, about to chastise him for being greedy, and Jungkook was not the one standing there.

There was a big white beak in your face.

“Welcome to the Hell House,” the beak said in a resonating, surreal voice.

“Gah!”

Everyone jumped back, staring at the tall black form with a white plague doctor mask. The mask covered the entire face. It had round, black-tinted lenses where the eyes would be. The rest of the body was covered in black – large wide-brimmed black hat, long coat with ruffled brocade lapels, robes that touched the floor and covered any indication of shoes or pants, and a covering over the neck and head that concealed the hair and skin color.

The white beak tilted, almost playful.

“You may call me the Doctor. I take care of the Hell House that you have so graciously booked an appointment with.”

It was hard to tell if it was a male or female voice. Well, it was hard to tell if it was a human voice. Whoever it was must be using a voice changer. The white beak tilted the other way, leaning down, and you realized this Doctor… person was rather tall. Obscenely tall. Maybe on stilts or platform shoes or something. The body shape was completely concealed under the layers and layers of black.

“Was it you who booked the appointment?”

The voice changer made the chuckle almost sinister. Almost.

Cool!

You nodded eagerly. “Yeah! I heard a lot about this place. Everyone goes in and no one comes out the same,” you explained, wiggling your arms spookily, recalling the reviews. “They were all really vague about what actually happens though. They said you have to sign a waiver.” You frowned. “This isn’t like a SAW movie, is it?”

The white beak tipped up and bounced heartily, a crackly laugh piercing the air. You noticed there was a think black leather choker around the neck with a dangling silver crescent moon. Ah, probably to hide the voice changer. “No, I will not be putting your lives on the line. Not this time.”

“Not this time?” Hoseok squeaked behind you.

“Oh, but everyone said there has to be a sacrifice,” you remembered. “What do they mean by that?”

The white beak lowered; the eyeless black lenses pointed in your direction.

“There must be a destination, of course. Someone to save to encourage the players pass their test and reach the end goal,” the Doctor explained.

“But that means one person won’t walk through the house. They won’t get the full experience,” you complained, waving the syringe at the beak.

“On the contrary.”

And then all of a sudden, the beak was in your face, brim of the hat touching your forehead. Holy shit! How did they get so close so fast? Holy shit! How cool! You felt a shiver of excitement shoot up your spine.

“The sacrifice will be tested more than all the rest. It is, perhaps, the most dangerous position of all.”

“Then Jungkook should do it.”

The beak retreated as you snapped your head around to the immediate suggestion. Jungkook whipped his head to the voice – his hand was still on your ass all this time, along with Taehyung’s – glaring at Seokjin. The eldest clutched the back of Namjoon’s navy denim jacket and peered over the broad shoulder with a not-so-innocent innocent expression. “What? He should! He’s the bravest!”

“That’s why he should be with us!” Jimin protested, yanking on Jungkook’s free arm. “We’re gonna die without him!”

“I’m gonna die without him,” Hoseok wheezed, looking like he was about to faint. Yoongi held him up by the collar, looking indifferent.

“I’m too handsome to die,” Seokjin wailed.

“No one is gonna die,” Taehyung coughed. He jerked his head to the Doctor. “No one is gonna die, right?”

“None of you will become Mr. Skelly over there, no.”

A black-gloved hand appeared out of the coat and pointed to the plastic skeleton holding the sign that said, WELCOME TO THE HELL HOUSE! KINDLY AWAIT YOUR TURN TO DIE. THANK YOU.

“It says we’re going to die.”

“That’s just for dramatic effect,” the Doctor chuckled. “Everyone will need to live so you can write raving reviews and I can get more visitors to make some money. Sigh. Rent isn’t cheap these days.”

“That it isn’t,” Namjoon nodded sagely.

“I’ll do it.”

Everyone turned to stare at you.

You bounced over to the Doctor and waved your giant fake syringe with a big grin. “Doctor and nurse, right? It’s perfect!”

“Er, not the right kind of doctor…”

“Also, you look more like a slutty porn nurse than an actual nurse…”

“That’s Miss Slutty Porn Nurse to you,” you warned, jabbing the air with the syringe. “And I’m going to leave with the Doctor, hmph!” You stopped in the middle of your stomping away, realizing you had no idea where to go or what to do. You looked up at the white plague doctor mask, asking, “Are you alone, Doctor? Do you have helpers?”

A low, crackling laugh bubbled from the mask, sinister and demonic.

“Ohohoho...”

The beak turned, slowly, slowly, pointed down, eyeless lenses on you.

“I have more than enough help… now.”

-

“Bro, we just signed papers and had to give a fingerprint. I couldn’t even read the waivers because it’s so dark in here.”

“We’re going to die.”

“What do you think they meant by being tested? Something on the waiver said we had to pass a test.”

“Oh, fuck, we’re going to have to use our education? I’m doomed.”

“We’re going to die.”

“Stop saying that. The Doctor said we weren’t going to be Mr. Skelly.”

“Do you even trust that guy?”

“Do we even know if it’s a guy?!”

“Well, they’re not a bird, we know that.”

“You think you’re so funny. I hope you get eaten.”

“Ow, Jimin, you stepped on my foot.”

“Taehyung, I’m on your left side.”

There was a startled yelp and panicked gasping as bodies tumbled into each other. The candles at the top of the foyer flickered, some of them going out. Seven pairs of eyes looked up, seeing the tall skylight. The moon shone above them, gleaming with tendrils of red.

Something large crawled over the cracked glass, something with too many legs.

“Oh my God.”

“Hoseok! Hoseok, don’t faint, get it together!”

“Hyung, here, have some water!”

“Ack! That’s disgusting!”

“That’s Yoongi-hyung’s ginger tea, oops…”

“The Doctor said we should go through these doors, right?”

The seven pairs of eyes stared at the large, intricately carved French doors made of thick, heavy wood.

“I mean… should we just go?”

“You want to leave our nurse behind?”

Silence.

“I’m gonna miss that pussy, but I am too handsome to die.”

“Hyung, get back here.”

Two hands pressed against the thick wooden doors. One bare, one tattooed. They pushed the doors open without fear, revealing the pitch-black darkness within.

“Don’t worry hyungs. We got this! I’ll protect you guys.”

Seven men stepped inside, and all seven men suddenly found themselves alone.

-

“A blindfold? Kinky.”

“Precautions are incredibly kinky, Miss Slutty Porn Nurse.”

You pouted as the Doctor fitting the silk black blindfold over your eyes. “But I wanna see.”

“You will see.”

The voice neared and suddenly it didn’t seem to resonate anymore, suddenly it sounded human, suddenly it sounded real, like a voice you’ve heard before, but you still couldn’t tell if it was male or female, couldn’t place the age or accent, seeming more like an omnipresent god that was by your side than a human being.

“You will see everyone and everything.”

The ground beneath you moved and you stumbled, startled at the rising floor, falling back into a mountain of fabric, strong hands on your shoulders, clutching your prop, the giant fake syringe, and then it was gone, where did it go, what was going on, why did you lift your head even though you couldn’t see anything, why did it feel like the layers of clothing were surrounding you, warm with a faint smokey and sweet scent, gloved hands sliding down and ghosting your body, closing in.

You racked your brain to remember if the waiver had some clause where you agreed to star in a spooky porno. Not that you wouldn’t, because you would if you were getting some percentage of the profits and if your co-stars were your seven favorite dicks who, hey, just so happened to be in the same house, maybe it was a spooky porno, well then, hell yeah!

You were probably too comfortable with this.

“You are too comfortable with this.”

You jumped, realizing you were now sitting in a quilted velvet chair, your syringe in your lap.

“You can read minds?” you called to the darkness, still wearing the blindfold.

“I can do a lot of things. If there’s one thing I’m not, it’s predictable.”

Uh. Okay.

“Um… w-what happens now…?”

“What do you think?”

You sat there, confused.

“Don’t pretend you weren’t thinking what you were thinking seconds ago. There’s no money involved though. I won’t be selling this.”

Lightbulb. “Porn?” you echoed.

A low chuckle.

“It’s what you think it is, but also not.”

Where have you heard that before?

The tie of the blindfold loosened and suddenly you saw Kim Namjoon in front of you.

But also not.

You blinked slowly. You were looking at him waist height. Wow, he was tall. And sexy. And confused. He even looked sexy when confused. He was frowning. You realized none of the other guys were standing around him. He was in a giant library, staring at the massive bookshelves that were wall-to-wall. You could see him. He was right there. You opened your mouth to call to him.

You couldn’t.

And then you realized the body you were in was not your body, because the head was not attached to the neck.

The Doctor spoke behind you, orchestrating everything.

“And so, the experience begins … in proper order, of course.”

-

kim namjoon.

He was in a library.

“Guys?”

Kim Namjoon turned around and tried the door again. Ugh. Nothing. He squinted at the old knob, rubbing the door plate. There didn’t seem to be a place to put a key. He checked the tarnished brass knob once more. Smacked it with his palm, making the door rattle. Did it again, harder. Nothing. Damn. What was the point of being the God of Destruction if the things he wanted to break didn’t break?! Normally he wasn’t overly fond of the nickname, but right now it would be pretty damn useful.

“You can’t break the door.”

He spun around, looking around quickly. “W-Who’s there?”

The room was quite large. Every wall was filled with books. Smelled like it too, like old pages and leather. Across from the room was a large fireplace. There were a few tall windows with faint rays of silver moonlight streaming through. The colors were desaturated because of the lack of light, but Namjoon could make out the dark green of the armchairs and matching sofa facing towards the fireplace.

Uh oh.

Someone…. Something was sitting in one of the chairs.

The fireplace abruptly roared to life, blasting the dark room with orange flames.

Namjoon yelped, recoiling at the sudden influx of light, his eyes having already adjusted to the darkness. It took him a moment to blink rapidly, squinting, trying to make out the form by the fireplace.

Wait.

He knew that face.

He called your name, hesitantly.

“Hey, Namjoon.”

He frowned. You hadn’t been wearing that floaty high-necked cream nightgown though. It didn’t really suit you, a bit too Victorian and outdated with the ruffles and the big billowy skirt with no waistline. It looked fake, like a costume. He frowned, walking towards you. It must be you right? That was your face and your smile. Namjoon always thought you had a nice smile. Your smile could be cute or it could be mischievous, but it always made his heart flutter seeing it. It made him want to do things to keep that smile on your face.

Whatever you wanted, even if it was a little naughty.

Especially if it was a little naughty.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be at the end,” Namjoon questioned, scratching his head. “Did I somehow stumble my way to the end? I walked into the black hall with the others, but we all got separated and then I accidentally locked myself in this room… oops…”

His eye caught the shine of a small, clouded, gold-framed mirror propped against a dark green book on the mantle of the fireplace. The hardcover looked very old, with peeling linen edges. The title was in English, gold glided letters faded, barely legible.

The Headless Horseman by Thomas Mayne Reid.

“Namjoon, can I kiss you?” you asked, smiling at him.

He smiled back, holding up his hand, beckoning you to him. “Yeah. Of course. Come here.”

You stood up and there was something strange about it. Sometimes you would playfully cock you head or tick your chin to tease him, but your head was very straight. Still, the playful smirk was familiar, and so was the position of your hands, toying with the front buttons of the nightgown. There were buttons all the way down – easy access, perfect – and suddenly Namjoon forgot he was standing in a haunted house when his lips touched your lips, a soft, delicate kiss that took his breath away, immediately deepening, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and your hands taking his free one, guiding him to the opening at the front of your dress, now unbuttoned, and he gasped, fingertips grazing bare skin, your nipples already hard from the coolness of the room, your scent in his nose. He loved that scent, sometimes bringing his clothes to his nose after you left him, enjoying the familiarity. This was familiar too, doing things that he wasn’t supposed to be doing, with you, squeezing your breasts and playing with your nipples, pinching them, cupping your cheek as you whined into his mouth, your hands wandering down, stroking his growing erection through his tan trousers. He tilted his head, kissing you deeper, sliding his tongue into your mouth, fucking it, savoring your moan and your whimper for more.

Namjoon opened his eyes, sensing something was off.

And then he screamed.

“What the fuck?!”

Your head was in his hand and your body wasn’t attached to your head.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

What…

WHAT’S WRONG?!

Namjoon sputtered, holding you head, gawking at your headless body – oh, well, at least there wasn’t a huge, gaping wound of blood and guts, just a weird smooth skin-like surface poking out of the ruffled neckline, wait, was that better or worse? Namjoon couldn’t decide – struggling to choose whether to drop your head or not, because chucking your head away from him would be very rude, but you were headless, not nearly headless, actually headless, what the fuck???

“Oh… You’re not going to pass your test?”

Namjoon jerked his head towards your, er, disembodied head in his hand. “Wha… What?”

“Your test.”

He blinked slowly. “… My test?”

And suddenly Namjoon found he was very, incredibly, disturbingly horny.

You smiled at him in his hand and he was finding it less and less weird by the second.

“The sacrifice doesn’t actually sacrifice anything,” you explained to him. “Only the players sacrifice something.”

Um, your body was moving and it was taking off his denim jacket. Well, it was quite hot with the fire on and his surging arousal. He had to switch hands so you – your body? good gracious, how was he supposed to differentiate – could remove it, tossing it to the armchair, your hands sliding up his shirt, shivering slightly at the coolness of your touch on his skin.

“Sacrifice w-what?” he gasped, trying to figure out why he was so horny. He did not have a Headless Horseman kink.

Wait.

Namjoon looked up to the mantle of the fireplace, seeing the old book.

The Headless Horseman by Thomas Mayne Reid.

His pants were being removed.

He looked at your head. “The Doctor. What do they want?”

You smiled, the fire casting shadows over your face, making you more mischievous.

“Orgasms.”

Oh, right.

Right, yeah, that totally makes NO FUCKING SENSE.

Namjoon rational brain was trying to figure out what the fuck was going on, but his lizard brain was telling him to put your head onto his raging, now exposed hard-on that was currently being touched and jacked by your hands. He sucked in a breath, looking down, still very confused, but now preoccupied with your breasts pressed up to his naked ass and your arms winding around his hips, rubbing the pre-cum all over his stiff length, your hard nipples rubbing against the back of his thighs.

It was very disorienting.

He was very horny.

“You’re, um, not really dead or anything, right? Please tell me you’re not.”

You laughed brightly. “Nah. It’s part of the experience.” Right. Experience. This was either very good CGI or some unexplainable hocus pocus and Namjoon was beginning to think it was the latter. “Remember what I said? Everyone goes in and no one comes out the same.” No wonder the reviews were vague. How was he supposed to explain this? My fuckbuddy materialized as a headless being and I had an immense, uncontrollable urge to fuck her. And am probably going to. Right now. Yeah, no. He was going to keep this to himself.

Yeah, maybe Namjoon was about to develop a Headless Horseman kink.

“So… this isn’t real?”

You popped out of his hand, floating.

Uh…!

You tilted your head, grinning. “You tell me if this feels real or not.”

“What – oh, fuck!”

Your head swooped down, your hair flaring out and then your tongue was on him, wrapping around the swollen head of his cock, dripping saliva everywhere and, despite the literal millions of questions his very wrinkly brain had for trying to rationalize what the fuck was going on, Namjoon’s horny brain was now on full-blast, squashing all the questions and cramming them into the part of the brain labelled, Random Things to Remember at Inopportune Times Such as Existential Crisis Moments Right Before Bed.

Yes, at this moment, Namjoon decided he did not care about anything but getting his dick sucked.

It might not have been the most lucid choice, but he wasn’t even sure if this was real life and, anyway, Namjoon never turned down a sex dream no matter how weird it was. It certainly didn’t feel like a dream. He was looking down and it felt very real, watching your head under his length and he felt the warmth of your wet pink tongue flick upwards and curl around his girth, felt your spit-covered hands coating him all over, a tight, unhindered grip. It was an unbelievable angle, but your head wasn’t attached to your body, remember – oh, that was a weird thing to remember – but how else would he be able to feel your hard nipples rubbing all over his ass while you were stroking his cock and have you lick his balls with minimal effort, able to get lower and suck them both in your mouth, ho-o-oly shit, tongue circling the sensitive skin and the red head of his cock rubbing against your forehead, in complete ecstasy but also vaguely wondering how you hands knew what to do.

Stop wondering Namjoon, it’s magic, who the fuck cares?

Well, okay, he accepted that answer for now.

“Just, fuck, put it in your mouth!”

He grabbed your head and pressed the tip into your lips, forcing his way into your mouth. Your hands let him go, sliding down, cupping his wet balls with wet hands, and he moaned, forcing his way down your throat, ugh, you always took him so well, always with those pretty eyes looking up at him, throat tight and willing, a tiny bit of defiance but succumbing to his thrusts the rougher they were, knowing exactly what he liked, massaging his balls with perfect precision, something you couldn’t do when being face-fucked – there were bodily limits after all, you always had to hold onto his thighs to keep your head still – but not now, not now because your head was still in his hands, sorcery or whatever, who the fuck cared, deeper, rough, strong, everything you liked, moaning in your throat, vibrating him, your nails raking the underside of his wet balls, oh, fuuuck, that’s so good, oh shit, circling the sensitive skin, tingles up his spine that melded with the constant pleasure of your tight, wet throat and, well.

You could probably…

Fuck it.

Namjoon let go of your head.

Yup, your head kept moving.

This was all very surreal but he tried not to think about it too much.

“Come here,” he growled.

He gripped your shoulder and dragged you around, pulling off the unbuttoned nightgown and revealing your naked body – mmm, headless or not, still sexy, bruh, this was weird – stepping back and pushing your body into the armchair. He was careful not to hit your head… still sucking to his dick, oh, f-fuck, that thing you did with your tongue running up from base to the head felt amazing, and grabbed your ass, pulling you up, your hands gripping the armrests of the chair, arms trembling as he planted his face into your wet pussy.

The traditional sixty-nine was great, but not exactly the most optimal to get the most pleasurable position of eating out and sucking dick. You could get the best positions in a threesome, but Namjoon didn’t want a threesome. He wanted your mouth and your pussy. That wasn’t possible, under normal circumstances.

Unless…?

Unless your head was detached from your body, eh?

Oh dear, maybe he did have a Headless Horseman kink.

The time to be worried about the weirdness of his kinks was not now, because, as usual, you tasted like delectable sin itself, thick and sweet and viscous, sticking to his cheeks and mouth, making him moan and thrust into your mouth, so tight and soft, fuck, he loved your tight mouth and soft lips. He shoved his tongue inside you, oh, yes, so delicious, your moan stimulating his entire length and your pussy leaking into his mouth, his tongue circling your entrance, flicking that hard nub that made you whimper and plead for him, bucking his hips into your face to shut you up, rough but he knew you could take it, especially because your approval gushed into his mouth. He had so much control like this, fuck, it was addicting, closing his lips around your sensitive clit, sucking hard, feeling it throb under his tongue and get bigger, lapping at it rapidly, precision and power, thrusting his hips in time with his tongue, your taste in his throat and feeding his pleasure, your hips shaking in his hands.

He was so close so fast.

It took no time at all.

Your mouth at the perfect position, your pussy perfectly in his face, swollen clit at the mercy of his tongue, sucking hard, his twitching cock buried into your constricting throat, wet balls smacking your chin, your tongue sliding up and rubbing against the slit before going back down and choking yourself with his thick girth.

Namjoon groaned into your pussy, sucking hard.

You whined and he shot into your throat, forcing you to swallow or choke, and you chose to swallow of course, flooding his chin and cheeks with a splatter of your juices, sticky and delicious, forcing him to lick it off or breathe and he chose to lick it off, moaning, feeling your tongue circle around him, drinking his cum in loud gulps, yelping as he lowered your hips and attached his mouth to your nipples, licking them all over, pinching the other, squeezing the hard nub.

Your mouth detached from him, head floating back up.

“H-Hey…! My head might be detached, but I can still f-feel everything!”

“Yeah?” Namjoon chuckled, realizing his voice was now gravelly and excessively deep, but he remembered you liked that. “You can feel this?”

He gripped both of your hard nipples and tugged up, clamping them between his fingertips.

“A-Ah, y-yes, I caaaaaaan…”

He cocked an eyebrow. A thought crossed his mind. “Do I need a condom?”

Your face was twisted in pleasure, but you gave him an incredulous look regardless. “Namjoon, my head isn’t attached to my fucking body. I’m pretty sure pregnancy is out of the question.”

Oh, right.

He plunged his still-hard cock between your spread-open legs.

“Gah!”

He let go of your nipples and grabbed your head, kissing you, tasting himself in your lips, slapping his hips into you. Oh, fuck, he always dreamed about this, maybe (intact) you would let him at some point, but for the moment he was going to savor your delicious, raw pussy sucking him in, every ridge and pulse pleasuring him from head to base, his entire length in pure ecstasy, pulling you away from his face, grinning, crazy ideas flying through his head.

“Suck my balls.”

You gawked at him. “How the fuck–?”

Even you seemed to forget your head was detached.

Namjoon arced his arm around and shaved your face into his ass, slapping his hips down into yours. He grabbed your hands and pushed them to your tits, your body getting the hint, kneading your breasts and pinching your nipples, your moans vibrating his nuts as your tongue flew over them sloppily, licking yourself and him, saliva everywhere, messy, dirty, and Namjoon realized that there was a big downside to all this despite the vast amount of pleasure he was getting from your lips wrapping around one of his balls as he steadily and powerfully pounded your pussy.

He missed seeing your face.

Weird skin-covered neck stump was not doing it for him.

Er.

Thus, he chose to stare at your tits, his hands on the armrests of your chair, much better, your pretty hands on your pretty breasts playing with your nipples, focusing on the way you clenched around him and your agile tongue flickering over his balls and grazing his asshole, do it, lick me all over dirty girl, this was a fantasy anyway, right, and you did, warm wet tongue circling the tight ring of muscle, holy shit, sucking on his balls and his ass, reaching back with one hand and spreading himself out to give you more access, hitting that depth and your walls choking him, and he was there, there, orgasm so fast and so hard. He bellowed your name so loudly that it filled up the entire library, the coil inside him snapping, his cock jerking inside you, fierce pumps filling you deep inside, hearing the lewd squelch of punching his own cum deeper into you with every continued thrust, your walls shuddering and throbbing around him, spilling your release onto his crotch and down his balls for your waiting mouth to lick up.

Wow.

Future Namjoon would be very jealous of past Namjoon as he continued to slowly thrust into you, getting himself hard again, because why the fuck not creampie you?

“Er, can your head come back up here? I miss your face…”

“Oh, yeah, sure, but that’s a bit normal, isn’t it? We should try all the weird stuff when I’m like this, no?”

“One normal orgasm and then we’ll go back to experimenting, okay?”

“Oookay…”

Before your head returned, Namjoon spotted a crystal sitting on the mantle, sitting beside the worn-out book. He must have missed it earlier. It was greenish-blue with tinges of pink in the firelight, glimmering like the aurora borealis in the darkness.

Your face came into view and he looked away, capturing you in a kiss.

-

kim seokjin.

“Okay, Seokjin, you can do this. You can. There’s light there. It’s fine. It’s fine.”

Kim Seokjin peered down the dark stone hallway and heard the sound of dripping water.

“Yeah, FUCK NO, LET ME OUT!”

He spun around and came face-to-face with the stone wall, about to beat his fists against it, but then he would injure his beautiful hands and fighting rock wasn’t exactly his forte, so he resorted to yelling at it.

“Yah! I know you have cameras here!” His eyes darted to the corners of the hall, peering at the crevices of stone, searching for the glare of a lens. “Where is camera? Eh? I know there has to be one!” There had to be, otherwise how would they guarantee the safety of this billion-won face?! Not that Seokjin had a billion won – yet – but it wasn’t out of the realm of question!

“H-Hey! This isn’t funny! Well, they didn’t say it was going to be funny, they said it was going to be scary… hey! I don’t like scary! Then why did you come, Seokjin? I don’t know, she was acting really cute and everyone else was coming with me, so I figured it would be okay, but now I’m separated and I don’t know how I got here…”

This was a very impressive monologue. Someone better be filming this so he could submit it as an audition tape later.

Focus, Seokjin!

“Um…”

He edged down the hallway, back to the stone. He wiggled forward slightly, getting closer and closer to the corner.

“Hello?”

There was light past the corner. He could see it, silvery moonlight that pooling out. He could only see part of it. He would have to look around the corner to see more.

“H-Hello?”

It echoed a little. The sound of dripping water was faint, probably at the far, far side of the room.

“If you’re a spooky person, I’ll fight you! I’m not the bravest but I’m too handsome to die and the main character can’t die!”

Right?

Seokjin looked up at the ceiling and mouthed, you better not let me die, not at least without eating a delicious meal beforehand, I want medium rare steak, a huge piece, I’m talking ginormous–

His talk with the higher beings was interrupted by the sound of your name.

Seokjin shrieked and jumped his length in height.

“AAAAAAA!”

Wait.

“Namjoon?!”

He recognized that strong, deep voice. Oh, sweet alpacas with red scarves, he was saved!

“Namjoon! Namjoon-ah, hyung is coming! Please save me!”

Okay, he sounded braver until the last declaration, but that didn’t matter because Seokjin was running, his black cardigan flapping over his thick white sweater, it was kind of cold here, yeesh, skidding on his sneakers as he rounded the corner, hoping to fall into Kim Namjoon’s massive chest and biceps, but he did not.

Instead, he encountered a huge, ginormous cavern.

“W-Whoa!”

Was he underground? Holy shit, this thing was HUGE, bigger than his admiration for his own face (impressive). Seokjin took a few steps inward, jaw dropped, looking at the walls that shimmered with greens and blues. The grey stone here seemed to have crystals embedded in it. He ran his fingers over it, entranced by the unique color, and looked up to see the domed cavern, the geodes connecting to create a vein-like pattern that circled around the top opening way, way up there, exposing the night sky of stars and a full moon covered in tendrils of red.

Well.

Seokjin could not do one pull-up, let alone rock climb his ass up there.

Shit.

The blue-green crystals shimmered and seemed to pulse with glimmers of pink, similar to an aurora borealis.

“How did that house hide this huge room?” he wondered out loud, shuffling his way downward. The floor sloped down but he was too busy staring up to search for an exit – or a camera. Any evidence at all that someone was watching.

Please, someone be watching and ensure my safety.

“Namjoon?” Seokjin called again, remembering that he somehow heard his friend’s voice, finally lowering his head to look in front of him. He was at the center of the massive rock cavern now.

He did not see Namjoon.

Seokjin saw himself.

“Gah!”

He jumped back and the other person jumped back. Whoa! Wait. He frowned and the other person frowned. Hold up. He scooted a little closer and stuck his tongue out and waved his hands. The other person did the same.

Oh. It was his reflection.

Seokjin checked his hair, arranging the black strands and exposing a little of his forehead. Nice. “Wow, friend, you look great today! Very handsome!” Yes, maybe he was going to die, but he was not going to die without a compliment, even if he was complimenting himself. There was no one else he could coerce, ahem, gently remind to provide him with words of affirmation, so Seokjin was simply going to have to do it himself.

“What a weird place to put a mirror though,” he mumbled, gazing at the thick, intricate gold frame. “At least it’s being put to good use though, haha! After all, I am here to check and see if it still works, right? Someone has to do it, ehe!”

Yes, Seokjin was talking to himself to ease his compounding nervousness, please send help, he was about to have a mental breakdown in two seconds. He tried to focus on something else, like the details in front of him. The mirror was very large and stood alone in the center of the cavern. It towered above him, hand-carved floral pattern all over, arched frame with extended posts at the top corners. The center tapered to a point, grooved spokes framing a grape-shaped decorative wooden onlay.

He paused, seeing writing at the top of the mirror. Seokjin squinted. It appeared to be some sort of notice. A sign, perhaps. He placed his hands on his hips and frowned at it.

“Hmph. Well, that sign can’t stop me because I can’t read!”

He looked down and Korean splashed across the mirror.

“Oi!”

Apparently, the mirror came with subtitles.

The Mirror of Erised erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Okay, never mind.

“What kind of shitty Korean translation is this? Yah, did you use Google Translate? At least use Papago!”

The text disappeared as Seokjin waved his fist and yelled at the clouds in the sky above him.

“Sheesh…”

He sighed and lowered his gaze again, looking back at the mirror.

It was not him in the mirror.

Well… it was. And it wasn’t. Because that was his face… but softer, more feminine features. And that was his hair, but longer, framing the symmetrical face, large brown eyes, long lashes, full lips. And the body… was not his body. The body was wearing a long, black silk robe that clung to all the curves. Seokjin recognized that body, because it was his favorite – other than his own – his favorite that belonged to a great laugh, one that he treasured very much. A bright laugh that accompanied his shitty dad jokes when no one else would.

Maybe to boost his pride, but Seokjin didn’t care, because you were doing it for him.

It was his favorite body and just looking at it made his heart race and heat pool downward.

He reached up and touched his fingertips to the reflective glass, calling your name softly.

“Hey, Seokjin.”

That was definitely your voice.

You raised your left hand touched the glass too, and he could almost feel the heat of your fingertips.

“Wha… What are you doing in there?” he asked, concerned, placing his other hand on the glass. “And why do you have my face? What’s going on?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing in here?” You frowned, confused. “This is your test.”

Test? Oh, right. He was in the haunted house with that weird beaky Doctor… person. The waiver said something about a test. Wait. Was he still even in the haunted house? How did a house have such a big cave? Was he in an alternate dimension? Ugh. This was too much. Seokjin liked simple thoughts. Too much thinking was Namjoon’s job, not his job. His job was to stand there and look pretty and occasionally cook a delicious feast.

“Guh?”

Great response, Seokjin. If acting school taught you anything it was to speak from the heart and, by golly, what a heart you got there with your ever expressive ‘guh,’ your professor would have a hissy fit and make you redo the scene.

“This is a mirror that shows your greatest desire,” you explained.

His eyes widened. “R-Really?”

You furrowed your – his? – eyebrows.

“What do you mean, why do I have you face?”

Seokjin backed up a little. “Er…”

Your eyes widened, pointing at him. “Your greatest desire is to fuck a female version of yourself with my body?!”

Bullseye, right to the heart, panic, panic, panic, deny, deny, deny!

“What, n-no, whatever gave you t-that idea, I – why are you in there anyway, shouldn’t I be trying to get you out, ahahahahahahaha–”

“Seokjin!”

“It might be nice?!” he yelped shrilly, immediately giving up, waving his arms. “I mean, it’s not gonna happen or anything, so pfft, who cares, it’s just a very ridiculous, absurd fantasy–”

Your arm plunged forward, through the glass of the mirror, and grabbed his arm, yanking him into the mirror.

You pulled him…

INTO THE MIRROR.

“What the fuh–!”

A weird tingly sensation exploded through him and suddenly he was in a completely different room with a huge white bed, naked, and overwhelmingly horny. He coughed, incredibly confused, highly, extremely, exceedingly aware that his dick was smashed into your silk-covered hip, his brain trying to catch up with whatever the fuck was happening. So many questions. How did he walk through the magic mirror? Did he have magical powers? Was he actually Harry Potter – no, he would look better in the glasses for sure – then, why was he suddenly naked? Did phasing through mirror remove all clothing and could he get them back at some point, because quite frankly he was not ready to bare it all to the public, only figuratively via his acting, not actually, oh and why did you having his face result in him thinking that was incredibly sexy, did that make him a narcissist or simply just validate the idea that if you had his babies, they would come out good-looking?

Wait.

What?

Seokjin was not ready to have babies yet, he was still a child himself in some ways, or at least he thought so.

But.

You looked good?!

Seokjin clutched your arms very tightly and planted you in front of him. “U-Um… w-w-why are we naked?”

“I think we’re supposed to fuck,” was your nonchalant reply to his chest.

Oh, well, naturally, wait, what?!

“Ack, what, is this Doctor person some kind of pervert or–” Seokjin sputtered.

You looked up at him. “I mean, you’re a pervert.”

Seokjin felt his cheeks burn hot. “W-Well, you’re naked!” Oh, dear, he was liking his female face on your body too much, tooooooo much, thank God none of the guys were around to witness this, good thing it was alone…

“I think the Doctor is watching?” You pouted confusedly and Seokjin felt his insides melt. Not that your regular pout wasn’t cute as fuck, but combined with his extra plump lips was creating the perfect picture. “They said they wanted us to be safe and enjoy our time here.”

Seokjin felt his hard dick slide from your covered thigh, right up between your legs.

!!!

“Ahem, um, sorry, it’s, just, you’re wearing this very nice silk robe that’s clinging to your very nice tits and very nice ass and did I mention you have a very nice face, well, I guess it’s my face, erm, your regular face is very beautiful too, I mean, I like looking at it, yah, this is getting weird, I, uh…”

You blinked at him with his eyeballs and eyelashes.

This was very weird, yes.

“I think we’re supposed to fuck.”

Yes, moving on.

“At least, that’s what I did with Namjoon.”

“Oh! You’ve seen Namjoon! How is he? Is he okay? What happened to him?”

You opened your – his? okay, he was going to stop thinking that now – mouth and closed it again abruptly. “I can’t say.”

He frowned. “Why?”

You pointed up. “The waiver. The contract. You can’t say what happened to you in here.”

Seokjin was about to protest and then stopped. Well. He was not about to tell anyone that one of his greatest desires was to fuck a female version of himself that had the hottest body he knew, which happened to be the same fuckbuddy of his six other friends.

No, Seokjin was probably going to keep that information to himself.

“I’m allowed to say we fuck though,” you added brightly. “The Doctor said I could say that. Everybody fucks.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Everybody?”

You screwed up your face in a cute expression of concentration. “Maybe just us. The Doctor said it depends on the spiritual energy of the group. Apparently, we radiate…” You raised your hands to provide air quotes. “Mad horny chaotic energy. Can you believe that? The nerve. That’s not us at all, right Seokjin?”

He found himself humping the space between your thighs, gasping as your juices leaked down onto his length.

“No, that’s absurd. We would never.”

You nodded childishly. “Yeah! Hard agree. By the way, there’s no condoms because there’s some kind of enchanted protection from pregnancy or something. It’s pretty neat.”

A thought crossed his mind. “Well… are you even real? I mean, I don’t want you to get plastic surgery to match my face, that’s super creepy…” He trailed off, trying not to think about it and therefore thinking about it. Yikes.

You shrugged. “Maybe it’s magic? Maybe it’s Maybelline?”

Seokjin blinked rapidly.

“Okay, I just don’t want you to think I don’t like your regular face, because I do, I kind of miss it right now even, however we’re in these circumstances so we might as well–”

You held up a hand. “I gotchu.”

Aha. Ahahaha. He wasn’t about to? No. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. He was dreaming. This was all a very weird, very horny, very – oh, fuck! – real-feeling tongue wrapping itself around his leaking cock and Seokjin jerked his head down to see you sliding down to your knees, adjusting happily before winding your wet, slick, pink tongue – his tongue? no, stop that! oh, sweet alpacas with red scarves, him, Kim Seokjin, Worldwide Handsome himself, was not going to make it – gasping at the ferocious rush of pleasure, so strong it felt as if all of his veins were saturated and bursting with lust.

Did he eat something weird before this? A fucking aphrodisiac? Holy shit!

He did have a sip of Yoongi’s weird ginger tea. If anyone was going to poison him, it would definitely be Yoongi. What? What was he even thinking? Nope, goodbye thoughts, hello thrusting his entire hard dick down your throat and your tongue snaking out to lap at his balls, scooping them to your chin with your hands, watching your eyes roll back a little and stuffing as much of his balls and cock into your mouth and slipping your tongue all over them.

“Oooh, fuck, I, er, you, er, we…? Look really hot sucking dick...?” he sputtered, suddenly dizzy with all the thinking.

It was not that Seokjin didn’t have complex thoughts.

He just didn’t want to have an existential crisis while having sex, okay?

Thankfully, you didn’t react to his weirdness, and soothed all his feelings by letting go of his balls, grabbing his ass, and ramming his dick into your throat at the deepest possible angle. Yes, after that, Seokjin decided to daintily set the existential crisis aside for later and grip your hair and thrust his hips into your face repeatedly, freely moaning and giving up control – not that he had any, he was just trying to be somewhat responsible as the eldest in the group, but the group wasn’t here and he was face-fucking his fantasy, so all responsibility was out the window.

He savored the tightness, the wetness, the way your wet muscles closed in and squeezed the head, the way your flexible tongue followed a different pace and teased the slit every time he pulled back and flicked down the entirety of his length, ah, yes, such soft lips, such an excellent tongue, such delightful whimpering moans that made his core tingle with excitement hearing them. Your fingernails dug into his ass, trying to hold on and he pushed you to the limit, tensing all his muscles tighter and tighter, holding back, closer, longer, deeper, harder thrusts and your palms pressed into his thighs, encouraging him to use your throat, almost, almost, tangling his fingers in your hair, pulling firmly, your whine of pain mixing with his lustful groan, pushing you all the way down and feeling his cock twitch and spill thick streams into your swallowing throat, the motion constricting around the sensitive tip, gasping your name, running his fingers through your hair, his eyes closed, cherishing every single sound you made.

“Seokjin…”

Pulling you up, dirty kisses, tumbling to the mysterious bed, laughing – “Hey, I’m a good kisser, aren’t I?” “Yes, Seokjin, you are an excellent kisser, are you satisfied now that you know?” “Greatly.” – lips on lips again, plush and soft with the familiar pressure and eagerness of your touch and he knew it was you, well, it was hard for it to be not you, especially when he entered you and nearly passed out from the pure ecstasy that was your pussy, and it was his features but your expression, your scent, your moan, your arms hooking around his neck, pushing your hips up to meet him, falling into rhythm, hips smacking into hips, sinking into your hot tightness.

It was a very lewd sound, but Seokjin liked it.

Harder, faster, pounding you into the bed, his eyes but your lust, his name in your voice, the sweetest sound along with your laugh and the way you gripped his hair and gasped, clenching around him and the sweet smell became stronger, slicker, hot pulses that sent him into gasping shudders, slamming his hips down and moaning in your face, his hair all over his eyes, dropping down, capturing your lips, blissful kiss, his hips flinching and squirming as he came inside you, your walls squeezing it out of him, making him dizzy, your tongue dancing across his lips and him forcefully sucking on it, needy whines quivering in your throat.

Now Seokjin concluded several things about himself.

Good kisser? Confirmed. Great expressions when being fucked? Confirmed. Looked great from orgasming? Confirmed – he always worried he might look a bit dumb, but you looked beautiful, so Seokjin was sure he looked handsome.

He picked up your legs and grinned. You blinked at him.

“How much time do we have?”

You shrugged, his cock still inside you. “Until everyone is done, I guess?”

“Oh, awesome, that means we have tons of time!”

-

min yoongi.

Ah. So, this was how it went.

He tried the door beside him. Locked, of course. Hm. He placed his hand against it and pushed. Heavy wood, not just some cheap particle board. Stained this dark cherry color, not painted. Interesting. He turned around, holding his metal thermos loosely in his hand. The extra-strong ginger tea he made wasn’t for him. It was for whenever any of his friends asked for a drink so he could watch them recoil in disgust and cough. Sadistic? No. Prankster? Maybe. Hotel?

Not Trivago by the looks of this run-down room.

Min Yoongi took in his surroundings carefully. Shelves upon shelves of strange little knickknacks. Crystals. Tarot cards. Strange coins he had never seen before, old books with worn-out bindings, the shed skin of a rattlesnake. He squinted at it, seeing the diamond pattern. Hm. There were lit pillar candles in pewter candleholders everywhere, their flames flickering when he moved past them. A fire hazard for sure with all this wood around them. Tsk, tsk. Yoongi noticed the shelf brackets were intricately carved wood.

Leaf designs with clusters of grapes.

He turned to the center of the room. There was a table with a black tablecloth on it. Nothing else. Two chairs, study wood with black leather cushioning.

It must have something to do with his test.

Yoongi wasn’t a purveyor of the spooky, but he was fine with it. It did not scare him, although it did sometimes surprise him. He mostly came because you asked. Anything you asked and wasn’t completely ridiculous, he would do.

That was what Yoongi decided he would do and so he followed though.

This wasn’t what he expected for a haunted house, but that made it more interesting. He didn’t really like jump scares anyway. Being separated from everyone wasn’t ideal, but it did make sense. It made everyone’s experience unique and there was fear in being alone. Yoongi could see that.

Something shiny caught his eye.

He walked over to it, to the other side of the room. It was a sheriff’s badge, or what appeared to be a badge. He placed his thermos down on the shelf and picked up the heavy tarnished silver. It was in the shape of a sun with a weird-looking smiley face. He turned it around in his hand and saw something written on the back.

Do you need permission?

Yoongi frowned. “Permission to do what?” he mumbled, putting it back down. He heard a sound behind him and whipped his head around.

There was a black hooded figure sitting at the table now.

Instinct told him to raise his fists immediately.

Then Yoongi thought about it and lowered his fists. He signed some weird paper earlier. Punching an actor would not be advisable. He didn’t have the money for that lawsuit. He wasn’t strong enough to knock anybody out anyway. Yet. He was working on that. Working out with Jungkook, Jimin, and Namjoon was helpful, but he had only recently gotten into it. Also, the hooded figure hadn’t done anything.

Yet.

“Who are you?” Yoongi asked, keeping his eyes on the darkness of the opening.

No answer.

He didn’t really expect one but he figured he’d ask anyway.

Well, might as well get this over with. Yoongi took each step carefully, one by one, circling the table to the other chair, not turning his back on the figure. It reminded motionless, the heavyweight black cloak covering everything. It seemed pretty clear what he was supposed to do.

Yoongi sat down at the table, straightening his leather jacket with a loud jingle of zippers.

Underneath, a black sweater with holes in it and black jeans with a chain. Thick-soled black boots with silver hardware. Fashion, or something like that. Yoongi liked to look nice. It made him feel calmer when he felt more like himself. You always complimented him on his style, so he tried not to look sloppy.

“Sssssss.”

Uh.

Somehow, his brain auto-translated the hissing sound as if he was watching Netflix.

Show me your hand, palm up.

Uhhh. Hm. Maybe he misheard? Yoongi narrowed his eyes, tilting his head and trying to look under the black hood. It was no use. The candles were not enough light and there were no windows in this room. Alright. It was getting a little weird, but that was the whole schtick, right? If he knew what the sound meant, then he had to choose to do what it said or not.

Yoongi placed his hand on the table, palm up.

The shoulders raised as if the figure was inhaling, and the sides rose, large sleeves lifting. A pair of hands emerged from the openings and Yoongi almost drew back his hand seeing the long, pointed nails that seemed to be covered in crystals. The fingers spread out, reaching towards him, and he stopped, the nail crystals shimmering in the candlelight. Green, blue and even pink, like the light of an aurora borealis.

He knew those hands.

Yoongi looked up to the hood and furrowed his brow as your hands cupped his hand, pulling it across the table. He could be wrong. How could you get a manicure so fast? This wasn’t that kind of establishment, although perhaps at this point that would be the least weird thing about this place.

Also.

You were hissing at him and that was weird.

What was even weirder was that he was understanding you.

“The lines of your palm reveal your true self.”

He looked at it. “Which line says I want to go home and go to bed?”

“This one.”

He raised his eyebrows. “There’s an actual line?”

The finger turned around and Yoongi laughed out loud.

You were flipping him off.

The other hand quickly reached up and pulled back the hood, revealing your face. Yoongi heard the sounds, a wispy sort of laugh that mirrored yours, and his own laugh, a little raspy and wry, only for his laugh to die in his throat as he stared at your face that was not quite your face.

Your eyes slid down to look at him, unlinking, bright yellow with slitted pupils.

Uh.

Your hair was pushed back, sleek, slicked against your head as if wet, and your face had a faint pattern around your temples. Like scales.

Snakeskin scales.

You smiled at him, pink tongue flickering.

Oookay, either this place had some insane special effects makeup or he was on acid right now. Not that Yoongi had ever taken acid or could even guess what that felt like, but there must be a hallucinogen in the air because you had fangs and an extra-long tongue and Yoongi would call himself a kinky freak, sure, but…

Well.

He did always say he loved your tongue.

“Hey, Yoongi.”

He said your name very slowly and very deliberately, not quite believing it was you, but he had a strong, strong feeling it was, and Yoongi’s dick was telling him it was you, and he trusted him since his dick didn’t wake up for much. Just like him.

What?

He had high standards and didn’t waste his time with the talentless.

“Should I ask what happened to your face or is it a result of this place?” he asked, tilting his head.

You seemed to sigh with relief. “Oh, great, I don’t have to explain everything again. You always catch on fast, Yoongi.”

“I am a genius.”

You smiled playfully. He liked your smile. He wasn’t going to tell you that, of course. That would be embarrassing. And Yoongi wasn’t embarrassing. Yeah. Anyway. Moving on. Yes, distract from awkward thoughts with the purpose at hand. Yup.

“Is this my test?”

You snapped your fingers, hissing pleasingly. “Ah, yes. Your test, your experience, your…” You trailed off.

Yoongi cocked an eyebrow.

You pointed to him. “You’re not allowed to tell anyone about what’s going to happen.”

He tucked his tongue in his cheek. “Why not?”

“You signed the waiver.”

He hummed. “Mmm, what Is the Doctor going to do? Send a legal team after me?”

“Yoongi…”

He grinned, highly amused. “Come on, no one is gonna believe me that my favorite plaything grew snake-like facial features. It’s not going to matter if I say anything or not.”

You pouted at him. “I’m not a plaything.”

Yoongi softened his grin to a gentle smile.

“I know. I will always want you in my life no matter what.”

Your lips parted, staring wide-eyed at him.

He smirked, beckoning you with the fingers of his right hand on the table. “Come here. Let me show you.”

Then you did something really weird, even for Yoongi.

You unclasped the cloak, revealing your naked breasts underneath, and crawled onto the table, the lower half of your body slithering towards him.

His eyes shot wide open, seeing the skin between your belly button meld into scales – snake scales, glittering dark teal-green, so dark it was almost black, flexible body sliding from side to side, closer and closer, heavy thud and curl of your snake tail flicking the air, your human legs gone.

Gone.

Yoongi held up his hand very quickly, signaling the time-out.

“Explain.”

You looked down. “Ah. Oh. I’m a snake.”

His eyes darted to your face, disbelieving. “Hah. That doesn’t explain shit.”

You placed a hand on your, er, snake tail and shrugged. “Er… would you believe me if I said I wasn’t surprised by now?”

Yoongi felt his eyebrows shoot up into his hair.

“I can’t elaborate about it,” you grumbled. “Contracts and red tape and stuff.” You pointed up to the ceiling. “The Doctor says I’m not allowed to say.” He gave you a look that indicated he did not give two shits about the Doctor and the shady papers. “Come on, Yoongi, you signed the paper too.”

He thinned his eyes and mouth into lines.

Then, lightbulb.

“The Doctor picked you on purpose.”

You blinked confusedly. “What do you mean? I offered myself as tribute.”

Yoongi looked at you and then he looked at the wooden ceiling above him. There was nothing to see, not even a camera lens or a carved peephole, but you were somehow a half-snake lady sitting on a table so Yoongi figured rational rules of physics did not apply.

“You knew, huh? How did you know?” he asked the ceiling. The ceiling did not answer.

“Yoongi, what are you talking about?”

He lowered his head and locked eyes with you, feeling that he was right even though he didn’t have the real answer.

“Come on. Your tits are right in front of my face, and I’m already harder than fucking diamond in my pants. I’m horny for you in general, but this is different, like I’m being lured to fuck you, injected with so much lust that I somehow forget you’re a half-snake lady and bang you anyway – which I will, don’t get me wrong,” he added, then tilting his head up, squinting at the ceiling. “But they must have known somehow, because I would not want to fuck half-snake Jungkook if he somehow ended up being the sacrifice instead.”

“Really?”

He snapped his head down and glared at you.

“Okay, I was just asking… He’s cute and stuff…”

“Virgins aren’t my thing. That’s your thing,” he remarked, deadpan.

“I don’t have a virgin kink! And Jungkook wasn’t even a virgin the first time! Stop spreading misinformation!”

Yoongi caught your chin and pulled you down to his face, licking his teeth. “Yeah, but he pretends to act all innocent until he doesn’t and you like that.”

“No, I–”

But he didn’t let you finish, leaning forward and giving in, lips touching lips, and the reaction was instant, an electric kiss that soared through his entire body, lighting every nerve with vibrating want, even more so than usual, with the softness of your kiss turning rougher and more needy, to the way your hands came up and grabbed his head, long nails combing through his hair, and he was in your hold now, your grip, your constriction.

Yoongi trusted it, because it was you.

Your deft tongue flickered by his lips and he opened his mouth, gasping a little as it slid inside, his own tongue grazing the points of your fangs, and there was something else, something dripping from your saliva, a strange taste, seeping into his throat. Sweet but fiery. And now his clothes were too tight, too hot, too much, throwing his leather jacket off, the feeling spreading from his mouth and traveling downwards, similar to a numbing sensation, but this was something that increased the sensations, made them more intense, almost unbearable.

He broke the kiss, panting hard.

“You… Poison? But it’s more like an aphrodisiac…?”

He couldn’t even think straight.

You pulled your head back, pink tongue sliding out and Yoongi realized it was, indeed, extra-long and shiny, dripping saliva, and he wanted it on his dick.

Now.

“I like you, Yoongi,” you hissed defiantly, lowering yourself as he yanked his sweater over his head, throwing it onto the chair, breathing hard as he fought his jeans. He very nearly forgot he had been teasing you earlier. It was just something he did. He liked to see you squirm and argue and push back against him so he could fuck out your irritation and switch to desperately holding onto him, wanting him more than anyone else in that moment. He knew you liked him. You wouldn’t come back if you didn’t.

Yoongi simply wanted to hear you say that you liked him.

Strangely, this table was slightly lower than hip length. How convenient. Or maybe he had very long legs. He did have very long legs. Yoongi pushed down his jeans and boxer briefs, all the way down to his knees and ticked his head, smirking as your eyes drifted downward.

“Oh? You wanna show me how much you like me?”

You grinned, serpentine.

A small part of him thought he should be worried about the fangs and whatnot, but then again this was leaning much closer to ‘really fucking weird internet porno written fanatically at one in the morning’ rather than ‘possible violent mutilation’. Not sure why he was getting those vibes, maybe it was something in the air or the way you dipped down and slithered towards him, tongue extending and then wrapping around the entire length of his dick.

Realistic? No.

Hot as fuck? Yes, feeling his eyes widening, staring down as you wriggled closer, pink tongue wound around his dick in a spiral, bobbing your head back and forth. Powerful, tight, very precise control. This Doctor person was taking some serious creative liberties, but Yoongi was grateful for it. Snake lady sex? Not a kink he considered, no. Snake lady sex with his favorite fuckbuddy and who he would also consider a close friend (but possibly avoid telling you that to your face at all costs) with her excellent tits hanging off the edge of the table and his cock being choked by an unreasonably long tongue with some kind of aphrodisiac saliva that sent him into an almost dreamlike state of euphoria?

Okay. Yoongi could get on board with that.

Probably not something he was going to talk about with anyone later, no.

Damn.

Alright, Doc. You got me.

Before Yoongi could pursue his mental appreciation for the brilliance of the clever beaky mastermind, you swallowed his dick.

“Oh, fuck!”

Your hands came up to cup his ass and push him forward, sliding him down your throat, and Yoongi could get pretty damn far thanks to your skill with angles but something was happening. He heard a light pop sound and he jerked forward, so deep in your throat that he surely must have hit your gag reflex. He grasped your shoulders, stabilizing himself.

Holy fucking shit.

You just unhinged your jaw.

You. Just. UNHINGED. Your. Jaw?!

Wait.

You were part-snake. Did snakes gag? They swallowed their prey whole, sometimes prey much, much larger than them. Unlikely they gagged in the human sense, anyway. Oh. O-o-oh. Yoongi looked up at the ceiling.

Thanks, you weird beaky omnipresent sex god.

You moaned and swirled your tongue around his balls, sucking one into your lips to join his cock. Yoongi jerked his head down, gasping for breath, fixated on the bulge in your cheeks and his cock encased in your throat. He was not a biologist, nor did he give a rat’s ass about biology right now, too busy trying to comprehend how your tongue was circling his other nut and squeezing it as you began to forcefully suck and ram his cock down your neck with one of his nuts in your mouth in the process.

To say this was completely unexpected was an understatement.

“Oh, shit, harder, mmm, fuck, just like that, fuck!”

He was usually very calm and collected but, given the situation, that was an abandoned endeavor, too lost in the repeated wave after wave of immense, spine-tingling pleasure, so much slippery saliva, so much control, so tight but soft, and the end was coming so fast, so fast, trying to hold out, gripping your head, throwing his head back, desperate groans falling from his lips, expletives, your name, praises, all of it, ugh, he liked you so much, so fucking much, no matter what kind of new outlandish-sounding sex technique – or straight-up new body – you were trying, you always did everything so well and with such confidence that it blew him away, it really did, no matter if afterward you admitted you were apprehensive at the start. He admired that trait, he admired you, and you were really so fucking good at sucking dick.

Too fucking good.

“F-Fuck!”

Yoongi gasped and thrust his hips into your face, all the way down, and moaned loudly as he came down your throat, shuddering, borderline whine as you swallowed around him, muscles easing in a slow wave all over his jerking length, pulsing massage to milk it out of him, your tongue wiggling around his balls, lapping at them in a figure-eight that sent him into chain moans of blinding pleasure, legs shaking, flinching as he felt something slide behind him, touching his hot skin, cool scales to lean against, curling around him to hold him up.

Human flexibility was trash, Yoongi decided.

You slowly released him, licking up his torso, soft kisses, slithering up his chest, rising to his face, lips to lips, tasting himself with a satisfied hiss, hands on your face and your tail wrapping around him, pulling him close.

“Hey, uh…”

“Hm?” he hummed, savoring the moment.

“I don’t, uh… have a human pussy. Or asshole.”

Yoongi blinked. “How do snakes excrete waste then?”

You stuck out your hands and made a pained face. “I don’t think I’m in this form long enough to have to figure out how to go to the bathroom. But!” You brightened, pushing your breasts together and sticking your tongue out. Saliva dripped off the tip, falling into the crevice of your cleavage, the strong wet muscle quivering. “Eh? You down?”

Yoongi cocked his head, grinning. “Heck yeah, I’m down.”

Yes, a tit-fuck with the head of his cock wrapped in that tongue sounded fucking fantastic.

-

jung hoseok.

“Ugh, nooo, where is everyone, Smile Hoya is going to become Frown Hoya at this rate, waaah…”

Jung Hoseok was in prison.

Okay, he wasn’t in actual prison, but he was in a weird place with metal barred-off sections and stone walls. If that didn’t scream prison, what the fuck did?! He did not want to walk in here, but he had lost all his friends and it was either turn into a ghost while standing there petrified or turn into a ghost looking for his friends. What if his friends needed him? He didn’t think he was much help, but the thought of the younger ones freaking out all on their own was very worrisome so Hoseok sucked it up and slunk to the floor, crawling his way throughout the halls, calling their names in a despairing wail.

Yes, Hoseok could admit it. He was a scaredy-cat.

He did not like bugs, he did not like jump scares, he did not like this at all, but Namjoon and Jungkook had promised to protect him and now they were gone. Gone! At this point, he would have settled for Seokjin-hyung or Jimin to simply grab and cry with.

Ugh, Hoseok needed people. He did not like being alone at all.

He heard a quiet sniffle.

“A-Ah! Who’s t-t-there…?”

Wait. Why was he scared? Someone was crying. He edged towards the sound, still wary, but mildly worried, crouching and tiptoeing forward. It was going from the very end of the hall. This was very realistic. Too realistic. At least there was light in every cell, a window with iron bars that allowed large patches of moonlight to cascade over the floor. There were small puddles here and there, reflections of water that shimmered greenish-blue and, if he tilted his head, sometimes even pink, glimmering like the rays of an aurora borealis.

He heard water dripping nearby.

Drip.

“H-Hello?” he whimpered, scared for an answer.

Drop.

“H-Hoseok?”

That voice! He knew that voice! But hadn’t you gone with that Doctor person to the end of the haunted house? Did that mean he was at the end already? Oh, whew, it was over! He had only been alone for a short time and it was already over! Hoseok sprang up and ran to your voice, calling you name, skidding to a stop at the end. This cell was even open! Wow, how lucky! He clambered inside to the crouched form in the corner of the cell, sitting on the mattress wrapped in a thick black blanket.

“Hey, why are you on the floor–?”

You lifted your head and Hoseok fell over.

“W-Whoa!”

On top of your head, sticking out of your hair, was a pair of furry, rounded dog ears. Light brown, with black spots. They flicked back and forth, flattening at his reaction.

“Do I look scary…?” you whimpered, eyes shimmering. Puppy eyes.

“N-No, I just… didn’t expect the dog ears!” He reached up, almost scared to touch them. They popped back up, startling him a little. They looked so soft though. His fingers creeped forward and touched one, surprised at the heated velvetiness. “Wow, what a cool costume…” He followed the curve, down to your scalp, expecting to feel a headband or hair clip.

His fingertip hit your skin.

“… Eh?”

The ear was attached to your head.

“AAAAAAA!”

You yelped, cramming your hand over your ears, retreating further into the corner. “Don’t yell, please! My hearing is really good now!”

“T-They’re attached to your head! W-W-What, h-h-how?!”

You sat back up, still holding your ears against your head. Something was clinking around your neck. A heavy chain collar. Hoseok squinted at it. The tag was in the shape of a sun with a weird-looking smiley face. Strange. It jingled every time you moved.

You shrugged, lips twisting in a triangle pout. “I don’t know. I guess that’s part of the experience?”

Hoseok blinked rapidly. He was about to ask more questions, but then he heard a soft thump-thump, looking down to nearly faint again as he saw the long, sweeping black and tan tail sticking out from under the blanket.

“But I’m so glad to see you, Hoseok! I feel like I’ve been sitting here forever…”

Oh. Was that because he was blubbering and whimpering all his way down here? Oops… “Where are the others? Have you seen anyone else?”

You opened your mouth. Then you closed it, looking up at the sky. Hoseok looked up too, confused, seeing only the stone ceiling. He looked back down and you were thinning your eyes and mouth into lines, grumbling.

“I’ve seen Namjoon, Seokjin, and Yoongi,” you said. "But I can’t explain, because it’s part of the contract and wavier we signed.”

He felt the blood drain out of his face. “Are they dead?!”

You waved a hand, laughing a little. “No, no! They’re totally alive.” You gave him this look. “Very alive.” Wiggled your eyebrows. “Living their best lives.”

Question marks popped over his head. “Eh?”

“Never mind,” you corrected hastily. “Anyway, they all passed their tests but, um, I don’t know how you’re going to pass yours.”

“T-T-Test?” Hoseok had completely forgotten about the mention of any sort of test. “Like an escape room? Oh, shit, I’m terrible at those… I don’t even know what clues to look for, should I have been looking for clues…?”

“Er, no, you would be good at this test, I think…”

“Dance? Do I have permission to dance my way out of this?!”

“Ah, physical, yes, but not dancing…”

Big question mark now. “Huh?”

“Sex, Hoseok. You’re good at sex.”

Exclamation points. “I am? I am! Oh, wow, really? You think so? I think you’re better actually, my favorite thing about you is your eyes, they’re so pretty and expressive.”

Your cheeks flushed pink. “R… Really?” You tucked a spare strand of hair behind your ear shyly. “T-Thanks… I never thought about my eyes m-much…”

He thought about them. He thought about them a lot, actually. They were greatly expressive eyes that hid no emotion, let it be happiness, annoyance, sadness, anything. Maybe it was because you were around them, because you were definitely more guarded when you were around strangers. You used to chase all sorts of guys – well, usually guys who wore glasses and were studying big scary-sounding degrees – but not anymore. Now you only hung around them and you seemed much brighter and more content. Sometimes you suggested such crazy stuff – such as a haunted house, yeah, Hoseok found that crazy – but he found himself going along with it because you just seemed so happy.

He always wanted you to be happy.

“Ah, but… we have a problem.”

Hoseok tilted his head. “What’s the problem?”

You lowered the blanket to your bare shoulders to point to your ears. He felt his heart race a little seeing your exposed collarbones and shoulders. The collar was kind of cute too…

“Um…” You pointed to the sky. “The Doctor says I’m not a dog.”

Back to the question marks popping up in his brain. “But, the tail? The ears?”

You winced. “The Doctor said I’m a spotted hyena.”

And then Hoseok noticed your sharper teeth, your slightly pointed fingernails, and the darkness of your irises. “O… Oh?” He scratched his head. “Okay. That’s still a dog, no?”

You pointed to the sky. “Apparently, they’re more like cats than dogs, according to the Doctor.”

“Whoa, how knowledgeable. Are they a biologist?”

You were about to answer but instead you made a very strange noise. “A-Ah…”

“Is something wrong?” he asked worriedly, hurrying by your side. “Do you hurt somewhere? Show Hoseokie, I’ll take care of you.”

“Ack, um… Hoseok, I have a dick,” you blurted.

Somewhere, far off into the distance, there was the Windows ’98 sound of a PC shutting down.

…

You grimaced and yanked the blanket off your lap.

!!!!!!!

Hoseok felt his eye muscles expand so far that he was sure his eyes were going to fall out of his head at the sudden appearance of your naked body, shivering at the sudden exposure, and a very large, erm, appendage? Engorged… tissue… that was the equivalent of your clit?

No matter how he looked at it, it very much looked like a penis.

Well, there was no excuse now saying he couldn’t find it, right?

“O… Oh!”

You gripped the blanket underneath you, panting slightly, leaning back and opening your legs. Your pussy was still there, slick and wet already, with your, er, penis looking almost purple-red with strain, sticking straight up out of your body.

“It feels weird,” you gasped. “Ack, wait, s-stop looking at it, I don’t know about this…”

He stopped you from closing your legs. “Wait. You said this is my test.”

You stuck your hand over your, uh, dick and gawked at him. “Y-Yeah, but this is going too far, isn’t it? Maybe I can ask for a redo or something, you’re not going to want to–”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Hoseok, I have a dick, you don’t think that’s weird?”

He shrugged. “You are still you, right? Well, not exactly, you look different, but that’s fine, you are still you in here.” He reached forward and tapped your chest, smiling. You looked up at him, eyes full of wonder. “No matter how much you change on the outside, I will always want to be with you, if you let me. If this is who you are, then that’s fine with me.”

“O-Oh… well… I’m still a woman.”

He blinked at you. “Eh.”

You pointed to the ceiling. “The Doctor says all spotted hyenas have dicks, regardless of gender.”

“W-What? Really?” He blinked rapidly, astounded. Nature sure was something.

“Er… Hoseok…?”

He looked down and you were gazing back at him, breathing shallow.

“Can we do something about my massive erection?”

He jerked his head to it. A strange feeling overcame him, starting from his lower stomach to up his torso and down his legs, his arms, up to his head, strange and familiar, the same feeling he usually got when he was with you, except this time it was disturbingly strong, an impulse that refused to be ignored, something in the air or something about your face, he wasn’t sure, but instead of responding, Hoseok reached out and closed his hand around your length.

That was a thought he never thought he would have in his life, but here he was.

“A-Ah, whoa, that’s, oh, f-fuck…”

The great thing about sex with you was that he was not expected to act any particular way. He could let his instincts take over and not uphold some sort of image other people expected of him, because you did not expect him to be anything but himself and so he leaned forward, slowly stroking you the way he would himself, opening his mouth and spitting down the head.

“Oh, fuck!”

He grinned. “Having fun?”

You didn’t have much of a response except for a low moan and clutching the blanket below you, your tail curling around you and ears standing straight up, watching him leisurely pump you and spread his spit all over. He felt the skin pulse against his palm, twitching and hard, and he reached up with his free hand ad cupping your chin, pulling you into a kiss, keeping it sweet as he gripped a little tighter, causing you to gasp and moan into his mouth, feeling the desperation and need in your kiss, whining to his lips, faster, please, your eyes glazed over with lust.

“P-Please, Hoseok…”

His smirked, ticked his head. “Spit on your dick.”

You whimpered, hesitant.

“If you want me to go faster, you’re going to need it to be more slippery, otherwise it will hurt.”

Maybe if you were used to it, he could be rougher, but clearly you were not by you sensitive you were acting, and you looked down, watching his hand, closing your mouth, breathing hard, him waiting, waiting, wondering if you would.

You spat downward onto his hand and your cock.

“Good girl.”

And he sped up, faster, slicker, ah, fuck, the quality of your saliva reminded him how good it was, and you were so hard, throbbing, so close, humping his hand now, lifting your hips and following his hold, gasping his name, your sound leading him to your eyes, furry ears flickered forward, listening to him, leaking everywhere.

“H-Hoseok… s-stop…”

He stopped his hand immediately.

“F-Fuck!” you howled, throwing your head back, low growl in your throat, nails digging into the blanket your you, ripping it, feral and primal, powerful chest muscles and shoulders tensing. “Fucking shit, ugh, that’s good, hah…”

“You wanted me to edge you?” he chuckled, realizing what had happened.

“Y-Yeah, just wanted to feel what it was like, hah, come here, let me try something…”

Trying something meant yanking off his pants and shirt, getting on the mattress with you, and you licking your hand to cover it with a thick gloss of saliva before grabbing his dick. He grinned and you grinned too, devious and dirty, facing each other, hands around each other’s hard lengths, slowly, up and down, savoring the way you held him and how he held you, closer, breathing in each other’s breath, and he just loved the way you touched him, loved the way you knew how much pressure and power to put in your grip.

“Does it feel as good for you as it does for me?” he gasped, pressing his forehead against yours, shuddering.

“Probably?” you breathed. “I don’t know, this is my first time and it feels… fucking amazing…”

“Ah, yeah, mmm, it always feels better when you do it…”

Faster, tighter, looking into each other’s eyes, and he could feel it, closer and closer, such satisfying, even pressure and the intensity of your gaze, direct lust and uninhibited gratification, no questions needed, a wordless decision to hit the high together, tilting his head, deep kiss, his deep groan to your needy whimper, feeling the pleasure and giving the pleasure, more, more, more, his tongue in your mouth claiming control, your whine in his throat, please, please, please, so close, Hoseok, please, the tag on your collar clinking wildly at the furious pace, his smirk on your pleading lips, held breath.

Nothing but the sound of hand on skin, slap of two tight holds on throbbing hardness.

“Mmm, fuck!”

He sucked in a breath, shooting thick white streams over your hand at the same time he felt the gush of wetness cover his, slick and viscous, sticking to his hand, his thigh, his crotch while painting your hand, your thigh, your crotch, a beautiful mess, feeling the simultaneous pulse of your length against his palm and his cock against yours, mind in a drunk haze of orgasm.

He just… jacked your dick… in a prison cell… of a weird house… and you being a hyena was the least weird thing about it.

The place was called the Hell House, but it was definitely not that, unless Hoseok was in that circle of Hell where everybody felt compelled to mindlessly fuck.

That would not be the worst, to be honest.

He yelped as you grabbed him by the shoulders and sank your soaking wet pussy onto his still-hard dick.

“W-Wait, the c-condom?!”

“Hoseok,” you gasped. “I am a hyena.”

“W… Well, yeah, I don’t know how that biology would work…”

“I don’t think it does and I can’t take it anymore, o-o-oh, yeeeeeees…”

He choked and arched his back, thrusting his hips up instinctively, feeling your slippery, cum-covered cock slide over his stomach, a very bizarre sensation he was sure he was never going to feel again, grabbing your hips. You placed a hand on the mattress and gasped, reaching down with your other hand and pressing the head of your cock against his skin.

“Oh, God, your abs…”

“I d-don’t really have abs, oooh, fuck, that feels good though,” he panted, thrusting up again, hard but slow, hitting your deep and with power, your moans ringing in his ears, fucking you from below as you rubbed yourself against him, yes, you have abs and, fuck, your skin feels so nice, ah, I’m gonna cum again, leaning forward so he could hit you even deeper, watching your breasts bounce and your body shiver with pleasure, feeling it himself, the way your muscles wrapped around him and squeezed him, the wetness that smacked loud and clear between your joined hips, your moans pitching, hiking louder, more ecstasy, it must feel so fucking good, so good he was almost a little jealous because he could see it in your eyes and in the way they rolled back, wanton wail as you spilled onto him again, all over his stomach and crotch, squirts of your cum that covered him with your scent, so fiercely arousing that he moaned with you, slamming his hips up with a loud squelch and shooting his cum into you, his cock jerking and trembling with every pump into your tight, wet hole, astonished there was so much still, the fire spreading all over his skin and into his head, pleasure so immense that he was soaring.

Your name on his lips, a sweet sigh.

“Hoseok…”

He felt your hands on his cheeks, a little sticky with your cum, pulling his face to you and kissing him fervently, his laugh in your mouth, petting your ears gently. Your tail thumped excitedly against his thigh, soft and lovely.

Hyena you was pretty fun.

“Are you going to be like this forever?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I don’t think so. Just for now.”

“Ah.”

You both jumped as you heard a clatter beside you.

There was a pair of silver handcuffs and a key on the floor right next to you and Hoseok. They were not there before. It was as if someone had thrown them from up above.

You both stared at the ceiling.

“Is… Is that a sign?” he wondered out loud.

“It’s a very weird sign.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Say…”

You gave him the side-eye, slow smirk forming. “Say what?”

He picked up the handcuffs.

“You’ll be like, ‘Oh my God.’”

-

phase two (maknae line)

--

masterpost

[dimdiamond]

Bagginshield fic list

Yeah, I decided to make one too because there are enough to cause me headaches and I'd like to have them somewhere organized. Please look at the tags before reading them!

Fix-it fics

Desperate magic by BeautifulFiction: Bilbo is left to tend Thorin as he hovers on the brink of death after the Battle of the Five Armies. Is love enough to save Erebor's king, or is this the last farewell?

Lay your troubles down by Avelera: An extended version of "the acorn scene." Bilbo sees his chance to snap Thorin out of his madness, and takes it.

The Riven Crown by BeautifulFiction: The aftermath of war is no laughing matter. Those who died must be honoured, those who are wounded must be healed, and those who remain need food and clothing, peace and sanctuary. With Thorin's life hanging in the balance, it is up to Bilbo and the rest of the Company to rule the rag-tag remnants of Erebor in his place. Then there is the matter of the gold... Can Bilbo save both king and kingdom, or is Erebor destined to fall deeper into ruin?

The Color of Possibility by lindoreda: When Bilbo puts himself between Thorin and Azog's blade, his mithril shirt protecting them both, it isn't long before some dwarves whisper that 'Oakenshield' might not be the best epithet for their king anymore. But for Bilbo, barred from Thorin's sight since the battle, this new epithet only adds to the sting. Spending his days caring for the recovering princes, Bilbo wonders how much more of this he can take, not suspecting his place at the center of a silent divide in the company.

Homesick by Margo_Kim: Five years after they've reclaimed Erebor, Thorin is sick of home, Bilbo is just sick, and neither is handling the situation ideally.

The Road Delivered Us Home by keelywolfe: In the years since Bilbo left Erebor, he has lost his respectability, gained a nephew, and gotten on with life at Bag End. He'd left aside adventure for the comforts and peace of his little Hobbit hole, and for the love of a child who needed him. Though perhaps, adventures can yet find him.

Notices in the Paper by YamBits: Bilbo returns to the Shire after his adventure, newly married, and newly homeless, after his two year absence allowed the Sackville-Bagginses to obtain Bag End. Bilbo and Thorin go to the Tooks for help, and find newly orphaned Frodo Baggins, also looking for a home.

A Royal Guardianship by ladyoakenshields: When Bilbo and Thorin return to the Shire for a sabbatical during Yuletide, they find a reason to retire the throne in Erebor sooner than expected.

The Shire's gems by awkwarng3: Thorin, Bilbo, and Frodo move to the Shire after raising Frodo in Erebor, and Frodo makes a friend.

Time travel fix-it fics

An expected journey by MarieJacquelyn: For years Bilbo has written about his adventures and told stories about his dealings with dwarves and dragons. To most it seemed like fanciful nonsense but to Bilbo it was all very real. A weight followed him home from his travels, one called regret. Now in his final moments Bilbo has a choice to make – go quietly into death’s embrace or go back again and face all the fear and pain for the chance to make things right? Of course, change is a fickle thing and not everything can be done again as Bilbo is about to find out. In the end, it may not only be salvation that he’s fighting for.

Bilbo Baggins, warrior of the Valar by Pallalalo: Bilbo raised his eyebrows. “And you’ve come to the Shire to look for this someone? My, Gandalf, I wonder if you know Hobbits at all. They would tell you that adventures are nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. That they would make you late for dinner.” Bilbo recalled his own words perfectly. It had been something he and Gandalf had looked back on with bittersweet laughter. This Gandalf however noticed his exact words. “Would they now? And what about you, mhm? What would you tell me about adventures?” #The Valar send Bilbo back in time, to the day where Gandalf asks him to join in an adventure. After living a lifetime of regret and suffering, he vows to change things for the better. For Thorin. For Frodo. But will he succeed?

I'll die to care for you by thehufflepuffhobbit: His gaze landed on Mahal's eyes once more. "You did your best, Thorin." It was tempting to look away; he wanted to deny that with everything he had. It certainly didn't feel as though falling into Gold Sickness and then dying was doing his best. Mahal smirked, as though he knew Thorin's desire to contradict him, and pinched his cheek before walking over to a table. "Aye, I didn't think you would believe me. I'm not lying, it certainly could have gone better. More according to my plan, but I know you really did try." "Your plan?" He didn't know if he should ask, really. Knowing that his Maker had set a course for him, he didn't want to think about the ways he had done everything wrong. There were too many examples of mistakes in his long life, too many opportunities that he had missed that had probably been planned for him from the beginning. Or:Mahal feels like Thorin fucked up his legacy and gives him a do over.

Darker times ahead by Reach4theSky: Bilbo is sailing to the Undying Lands but wary of letting go of the guilt that has been with him for many decade. His most sincerest wish is to go back and change what was done. Before reaching the lands of peace and healing, he dies aboard the ship and finds that his wish is being granted, not because he is the one to wish it but because this is the dwarves last chance to escape a fate of eternal waiting. He finds that not only is he going to be sent back to his younger body, but so is the entire Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Time is a fickle thing and not all the members have their memories returned to them at the same time. The journey on becomes interesting as the dwarves slowly remember and fight for themselves and their kin, yet new hurdles are thrown at them when they realize that more people remember than expected...

Of an arcane binding by Salvia_G: An inexplicable magic ties Bilbo Baggins, hobbit of the Shire, to Thorin, dwarven prince of Erebor.

Legends by DomesticGoddess: The fellowship has set out on its noble quest to destroy the ring and put an end to the threat that is Sauron! Just set out really, barely left the gates of Imladris, but things are going smoothly enough so far. That is until the two most unlikely party crashers fall upon their little fellowship. Uncle Bilbo and the Legendary Thorin Oakenshield?! Frodo just wants to know what's going on but the two of them won't stop hollering at each other long enough for anyone to get a word in edgewise. Suddenly, their little group is joined by Frodo's two biggest heroes and he discovers there was a lot more to Uncle Bilbo's stories than he realized.

Beside myself by bliboboggins: "What are you doing? Just who do you think you are?" Startled, Bilbo turned around slowly. And there, in a familiar patchwork dressing gown, brandishing a fire poker wildly about, was... Bilbo.

Erebor never fell au fics

The hearth doesn't make the home by Moonrose91: For things Bilbo could not change, he was condemned to a life of isolation, with the belief that none could love him. And then a Dwarf came to Hobbiton.

Clarity of vision by Mithen: In a Middle-Earth where Erebor never fell, a shadow remains in the heart of the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo Baggins finds himself drawn reluctantly into a quest that will lead him across the continent--from Bree to Lake Evendim to the icy North and beyond--with a party of five dwarves searching for an artifact that will cure the ailing King Thrór.

Ghivashel by mdseiran: The last thing Bilbo expects when he stays up late one night is company. The strange dwarf and his companion crash into his life and prove unexpected saviours. But the dwarf seems to think he will be joining them on their travels, and Bilbo has no such intentions.

The Song of My Heart by DomesticGoddess: After a failed attempt of trying to carve out a new home in the Blue Mountains for his people, Thorin finds himself beseeching the Hobbit Thain and his council for a place for his people in their bountiful land. An agreement is struck and plans in the works for integrating his people into their land. The only condition being an arranged marriage between himself and one of their family heads. A small price to pay to see his people safe and well fed. Unfortunately, he’s to marry the most disagreeable hobbit in all the Shire who also seems to hold a personal grudge against him. If only he could figure out why his new betrothed hates him so much.

Oak and Mistletoe by HildyJ: After a life dominated by a strange form of sickness, Thorin is sent to the Shire to seek a cure only Bilbo Baggins can offer.

Karkûn shukula - A Cinderella AU by harrypanther: When the Prince of the Shire visits the Kingdom of Erebor, there is great excitement. There are hopes he will choose to marry one of the Royal Family, cementing an alliance that would secure food supplies for the dwarven Kingdom and gain new allies. All eligible dwarves are expected to attend a series of Balls. Unknown to the guests, there is a third royal child, manoeuvred out by his ambitious stepmother, for whom this may be his last chance of restoring his fortunes and escaping his fate…

Alone this Yuletide by Emsiecat: 'Alone this Yuletide? Irritated with prying and nosey family members? I am an out of work blacksmith currently trying to make my way by any means necessary that does not involve my resorting to thievery (prisons are most uncomfortable, I've unfortunate first hand experience). However, if you would like me to be your strictly platonic companion for any social function, but have me pretend that we are in a serious courtship, so as to torment your family and ward off unwanted suitors then I am more than obliging...' After becoming increasingly irritated by overtures of romance from various Shire residents following the death of his mother four years ago, Bilbo is more than ready to resort to desperate measures. That is, up to and including pretending to be in a serious relationship with a certain surly blacksmith currently inhabiting the Bindbale Woods. It's a good idea after all; all they have to do is pretend to be in love over the Yuletide period and Bilbo's family and suitors will surely leave him alone after that. It's perfect! And nothing can possibly go wrong, right? Certainly nothing as preposterous as falling for one another for real...

Modern au fics

Nothing gold can stay by perkynurples: Bilbo Baggins led a rather peaceful life, thank you very much, until an old acquaintance decided to turn it upside down, and he found himself agreeing to take a job that’s… let’s say not exactly up his alley, and might eventually cost him a little more than his treasured cozy lifestyle. Who would have thought tutoring a slightly menacing monarch’s more than slightly overbearing nephew could prove to be such an adventure?

Love-In-Idleness by perkynurples: Taking Bilbo Baggins, a successful movie actor who is only just getting used to the perks and intricacies of becoming A Face People Want To See, and putting him together with Thorin Oakenshield, with his very traditional (read: slightly backwards) ideas about what constitutes Real Art and Real Talent, might very well be viewed as just some clothead’s idea of a joke. But there are jokes, and then there are carefully calculated risks the size of controversial reproductions of classic Shakespearean plays - for Bilbo, it is the chance of a lifetime to prove himself to all those who have ever deemed him too one-dimensional to even attempt stage, while Thorin has the opportunity to get out of the rut that’s been hindering his career for so long now, and shine in a role worthy of his talent once again. That is if the two learn how to share the same space for more than ten minutes without wanting to tear each other’s hair out. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all…

Candid by northerntrash: Thorin wasn't entirely sure why there was a six-foot candid photograph of him hanging in this exhibition, but he was going to wring the neck of whoever had put it there. In which Bilbo is a photographer, Thorin an accidental model, and Gandalf just likes to make trouble for everyone.

How the west was won and where it got us by stickman: Bilbo is a harried 1st year British literature Ph.D. (early 20th century fiction) who happens to have an interest in spatial narrative structures, a lack of time-management skills, and a tiny apartment with a lot of books and very little furniture. He’s stressed, always, and doesn't quite know where he belongs. He tells himself that really, this is, in fact, what he wants to be doing. But sometimes, as much as he loves books, he gets an urge to do something with his hands. Thorin is a disgruntled M.Arch. 1 in his last year who can’t be arsed to shave and frightens his students, and, frankly, his profs, but his work is top-notch so no one can really say much. They can, however, bully him into running a hands-on design workshop on Saturday mornings, which is complete crap, because he’s used to drinking his Friday nights into oblivion so showing up at Milstein at 7:45 the next morning and trying to teach in a room of wall-to-wall windows as the sun rises is not at the top of his list. Besides, no one ever shows up. Except one morning, someone does. [graduate school AU]

Butterfly effect by eyra: Yoga wasn’t for him. Yoga was for interesting people. Luminous people; people who took gap years and spoke a foreign language. People who ate lentils and burned incense and had fantastic, colourful friends with fantastic, colourful lives full of travel and silent retreats and those baggy trousers with elephants on them. Yoga was decidedly not for people like Bilbo, who wore cardigans and ate beans on toast and whose linguistic capabilities stretched only as far as a rusty Spanish A-Level. Just your regular story of boy meets yoga instructor.

Remover of the obstacles by MistakenMagic: "Dis often chided her older brother for being a misanthropist. She did it so often it had become a term of endearment. It was true that Thorin struggled with people; he struggled to form and maintain relationships. Dr. Grey had diagnosed him with this and Thorin hadn’t the heart to tell him this wasn’t a symptom of his PTSD, it was a symptom of his personality. He exercised a sense of apathy with almost everyone he met… But Bilbo was different. Thorin actually found himself wanting to know more about him."

Color outside the lines by andquitefrankly: Kindergarten has just gotten significantly better. Just ask Thorin, who's got the biggest crush on the new kid in class, Bilbo Baggins. With the help of his friends, Thorin knows that he can take back the swings from the 1st graders, show up the K-1 class in the school pageant, and win the heart of one curly haired boy. Yup. Kindergarten is going to be a year to remember.

Bran' New Suit by pibroch (littleblackdog): Andrew's description had been sufficient to recognize him— a riot of honey brown curls, short in stature, a well-favoured face with expressive features— but it hadn't quite been enough to prepare Tom for the sharp, almost painful tug in his gut at the sight of the man. They had never met before, to the best of Tom's recollection, but there was something eerily and inexplicably familiar about him all the same.

Different species au fics

I've grown a hedge around my heart by pibroch (littleblackdog): "Thorin was the essence of so many Buckland oddities, distilled into one misfortunate young hobbit, much to his infinite embarrassment. Built like a stork, his father had said once, in an example of Thrain Brandybuck’s usual tactless humour. All beak and legs." Thorin Brandybuck, just recently come of age, still lives in his family’s smial in Buckland, with his parents and two younger siblings. Thorin is an odd duck amongst his relations and neighbours-- unsociable, grumpy, shy, and awkward. And beyond that, he looks rather strange even for a Bucklander, strongly favouring the thick, dark haired build of his Stoorish blood. It defies all sense and reason why Bilbo Baggins, an exemplar of all the respectable traits Thorin lacked, would ever desire a friendship with him. Bilbo, as Thorin discovers, is not always as sensible as he appears.

In which the dwarves are satyrs for reasons by HiddenKitty What the title says basically.

Bride of the demon king by DomesticGoddess: Thorin is King of the demons, a beast-like race feared by humans. Ever since the demons and humans formed a truce years ago, the humans have sent a young human every year as a tribute to the King of demons. Thorin is tired of having to deal with the tribute that has long since lost its meaning. The only tribute he'd be interested in is the boy he met fifteen years ago on the border of the demon and human realms. Despite his fantasies, Thorin knows the chances of ever seeing the boy again are slim to none, until they're not.

Lost He Wandered Under Leaves by serenbach: Thorin son of Thrain is a struggling blacksmith descended from a fallen line of kings. In an attempt to provide for his family over the winter, he reluctantly accepts an impossible sounding task - to hunt down an enchanted deer that lives in the Old Forest that borders the Shire, and make armour and weapons from its hide and antlers. He never expected to succeed. And he certainly never expected what he found to change his life so completely.

A Dryad's Tale by Bilbo Baggins by Moongazer12: Bilbo is a dryad (think little sibling to ents). Long ago a curse was placed upon him from destroying one of the rings of power. Whenever he touches someone with his bare skin he will make them insane. But despite this, he and Gandalf have gone on many adventures to help protect Middle Earth (What was the point to destroying the ring if something else destroyed it instead?) Gandalf has called on him once again to help on a quest, Bilbo just hopes that they read his amendments to the contract.

The quest but with a twist au fics

King, come at the red morning by Tawabids: Bilbo has heard fairytales of the lost prince of the dwarves, Thorin son of Thrain, who disappeared the day Smaug attacked the Lonely Mountain. But he does not believe in fairytales until he comes across the dwarf sleeping in the depths of Erebor, and kisses him back to life. Now Thorin - a hundred and fifty years out of his time - has to confront a world in which his city is empty, his people scattered, his baby brother Frerin is king, two nephews he's never met are missing in action, and a war is brewing right on his doorstep. And as if that wasn't complicated enough he's trapped in the body of an old man and falling stupidly in love with a gossipy, grudging little hobbit.

When the sun rises by Harry1981: Bilbo Baggins of Bag End was not a very respectable Hobbit. No respectable Hobbit had a sword and crossbow hanging in their home, nor did they have Dwarves as family. But Bilbo Baggins did, and all of Shire knew of his husband, blacksmith Thorin Oakenshield. When Bilbo comes home to find his Husband earlier than expected, he learns of a quest to reclaim Erebor. It is a death mission. Bilbo knows that Dwarves are stubborn creatures, and none more than Thorin himself. But nobody said that Bilbo himself was any less stubborn. So he will follow his dearest husband across all of Middle Earth, through plains and mountains and forests, all while hiding the true nature of their relationship (Dwarven politics never helped anyone), brushing off some old wounds (and getting new ones) and finding out new things about the dwarf Bilbo calls husband (and his extended family). Nobody ever said love was easy, after all.

Small, but fierce by DomesticGoddess: As a result of a magical mishap during the trip to the lonely mountain, Bilbo is reverted to a wee little hobbitling. Only in body, of course. His adult mind is still very aware of the indignity of it all (seriously! He doesn't need to be coddled, carried, and fed like a child). It turns out, dwarves love children and there is nothing cuter than Hobbit children. Bilbo soon realizes that he can get away with just about anything in his babyish form and starts taking full advantage of it. Even the grumpy brooding king can't deny the angelic little creature anything he desires (and Bilbo's going to milk that for all it's worth).

Your song like a home in my heart by Nennvial: In Middle Earth, all creatures have a soulmate. Not all have some, but if they do, it is a bond nothing can break, not even death. The more famous story of such a bound was the story of Bren and Luthien, who even defied detath. The way someone can find out that the other is one’s soulmate is through song: when they meet and hear the voice of the other, a song sings in their heart, which feels like home and makes them complete. They may refuse it if they wish to do so, but they hence risk a life of bitter looniness. Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins are soulmates, but they must admit it to themselves throughout their journey to Erebor.

To Dungeons Deep (And Caverns Old) by KingUndertheMountain: Bilbo Baggins was not your average hobbit. Of course, he had the wonderfully groomed and well-taken-care-of hairy feet like every other one of his race, yes, but he was not like other hobbits. He was cursed. Or, as the witch who gave him the enchantment put it, was “gifted”. She had given him the “gift” of obedience – whenever there was a direct command given to him, for example “cook a large meal” or “take a walk”, he could not disobey. Not without a lot of pain and eventual submission.

Chocolate candy one-shots

The world is sleeping (my world is you) by katheneverwrites (mandolinearts): I asked Persephone, “How could you grow to love him? He took you from flowers to a kingdom where not a single living thing can grow.” Persephone smiled, “My darling, every flower on your earth withers. What Hades gave me was a crown made for the immortal flowers in my bones.” - Nikita Gill ---“What do you mean, my friend?” There is a line of thought that surfaces in Gandalf’s mind, but he drowns it before it can take root. Surely not. But Bilbo’s chuckle sets him on edge. The small, gentle god of harvest, nature, and flowers sits up straighter, and in his crown of flowers there is a wire of strong metal, his cloak is suddenly not colorful anymore but the deepest black and he is terrifying, horrific, powerful - “I married Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the World.”

Of seasons by northerntrash: As far as he could tell, he had been kidnapped, which in itself made this week more than a little unusual. In which Bilbo steals away the Lord of Death, and Thorin can't quite bring himself to stay angry about it.

Warm up by paranoid_fridge: On one of their walks, Bilbo tumbles into a stream. They make it back to Bag End and Bilbo demands Thorin warm him up.

Royal Blue And Crimson Red by Mistofstars: Here's what happened before and after Bilbo accidentally eavesdrops on Gandalf and Elrond at night in Rivendell, as they discuss Thorin's quest and his family's history. Oh, and Thorin and Bilbo share a room, of course ;)

I was young when I left home by Margo_Kim: There was a pity clapper somewhere in the third row. Thorin finished his fourth song to polite applause from the people who noticed that the song was finished, but within the smattering of claps was someone beating his hands together like he was trying to rhythmically kill a fly. There was usually one of those, the kind who notices that no one else is paying attention and so is determined to compensate for that regardless of how they feel about the actual music. Thorin ignored him. It was easy to do so—he'd always hated looking at the audience when the singing was done.

A matter of buttons by StupidFatPenguin: “Your shirt,” says Thorin, quite out of the blue, and Bilbo looks down his front to see if there is a spot of tea or jam or anything equally embarrassing spilled on it. He is relieved to find nothing of the sort and looks up at the dwarf with an eyebrow raised in question. Thorin sits mute, his still-smoking pipe forgotten in his hand. He looks on for long moments still, seems almost lost to a thought before he shifts and lifts his gaze to meet Bilbo’s inquiring face. “It is familiar to me. Did you not wear this on the eve we met?” In which Bilbo and Thorin re-enact the evening they met.

The ladder by Milliethekitty27: Inspired from a post made by wheeloffortune-design on tumblr. Tired of his lonely kitchen in Yavanna's Garden, Bilbo Baggins wonders if the dwarven love of being underground is true in death. If so, maybe his dwarves are living (ha ha) under the very land Bilbo is weeding. With that thought, Bilbo goes and asks Hamfast for a shovel.

Love hobbit by HybridOwl: Bilbo Baggins considers himself a bit of a cock up, all things considered. He never made it out of his small highway adjacent town, can't seem to stop chain-smoking, and overall has more to talk about with the plants in his shop than 90% of all the rest of Middle Earth. So when he's reading the morning paper and a love note that can't be for anyone but him pops up, he's pretty sure - almost positive, really - that he's being made fun of. "TO the chain-smoking little stud who collects two metros from Gamgee's Goods every morning, will you be my love hobbit? - Bearded Biker." (heavily inspired by tumblr posts)

Fusion with other fandoms au fics

The Second Time by authoressjean; Sebastian Moran can't pull the trigger on John Watson to save his own hide, and what the hell is it with the doctor, anyway? Then Gandalf shows up, meddlesome wizard, and reminds him none too gently of his past life: as Thorin Oakenshield, leader of a company that had once included a small hobbit named Bilbo Baggins. One that looked decidedly like John Watson. And this would be the perfect chance to make things right with Bilbo the way he really hadn't been able to before he died, and that's when Gandalf tells him John doesn't remember being Bilbo, and to leave him alone. Right. Like that's going to happen.

And sow a star divided in us by MistakenMagic: Short summary: Gays in space! Longer summary: After his first successful solo mission, Jedi Knight Bilbo Baggins, trained by High Council member and full-time nuisance, Master Gandalf, returns to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. During an excursion to the sparring arena, he meets a group of Dwarven Jedi from Ered Luin, a mountainous planet located in the Outer Rim. Young padawans, Fili and Kili, are full of curiosity at this strange, barefoot Jedi, but Master Thorin, who appears to have the personality of a rancor and mental shields like blast doors, is less than impressed.

Comics you should definitely check

Every work by rutobuka, seriously they're criminally cute and they're not still favored by everyone without reason.

Retelling the Hobbit by Mellow_Comics: Bilbo has never been good at telling the "true" story of what happened on his journey to the Lonely Mountain. Now he's trying to turn the tale of his quest into a lighthearted children's book-- a bedtime story for his young nephew Frodo. But what really happened on his journey? And how did it actually affect him? This is a comic adaptation/retelling of the Hobbit! It's framed as a bedtime story that Bilbo is telling a younger Frodo.

For now these are some of my personal favourites! However, I'm sure my list will grow since my reading list has some gems still waiting for me to read, so be certain that there will be a part 2 of this list!

[ohworm-writes]

hi luvieeee. can you write a modern au for sniper mask x reader. the group + rika play spin the bottle. the rest is up your interpretation ! have a good day !

main masterlist •• •• •• tenkuu shinpan masterlist

▬▬ Spin the Bottle with Sniper Mask ▬▬

in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying and resurrected.

When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life, in each place and forever

Bob Hicok, Plus Shipping; “Other Lives and Dimensions and Finally a Love Poem”

Pairing - Modern!Sniper Mask x gn!Reader

Warnings - cursing , kissing , a bit of jealousy

Note - gods this prompt was adorable. i adore writing for Yuka, so thank you dear for giving me something! i hope you enjoy!

Word Count - 0.9k

prompt -  check the ask!

content below the cut!

it’s interesting to play such a game with this select group of people

on one hand, you have people like Kuon, who are more reserved and less versed in these types of games

or, you have people like Yuri, who are all for such games, with one specific person in their mind

with everyone free on a Friday night, no jobs or classes in sight, it seemed like the perfect opportunity for such a game

your crush on Yuka wasn’t much of a secret

from lingering stares to playful teasing, your relationship was quite an odd one

not exactly friends, and not exactly lovers

the gray area in between, if you will

A heavy knock at your apartment door was the telltale sign that everyone who had been invited had finally arrived. Rushing to it and swinging it open, you find yourself face to face with the one and only Yuka ‘Sniper Mask’ Makoto. The nickname was given to him by yourself from a costume party you all had gone to a few years back, an interesting smiling mask adorned on his face. He had a prop rifle slung over his shoulder, and a wide smile could be seen on him if you were to move the mask to the side. 

Stepping to the side to let him in, you and everyone else inhabiting your home welcomed him. Some simply waved from their spots on your living room floor, while others rushed over to greet him properly. You give him a side-hug of your own, the minimal contact allowing for heat to spread through your body like wildfire. He looks down at you, giving a sly grin that makes your heart do leaps in your chest, before making his way over to your couch.

Stuck in place for a moment, you shake off the previous feelings, shoving them down and closing the door. When you turn back to everyone, they’re already well into a conversation about something or other. Yuka’s smile reaches his eyes as he laughs at something particularly funny that Rika had said, grinning like a mad man. You clap your hands together, successfully collecting everyone’s attention with a smile. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

Rika, genius as ever, came up with the idea to play Spin the Bottle

while you were more than happy playing Monopoly, counting the bills you had received one by one, the others seemed keener on playing something more… thrilling?

you couldn’t deny the nervous feeling in your stomach as they all gathered in a circle, one spot next to Yuka saved for you

how lucky

only when you sat down next to him did you realize the severity of the situation

you had the chance of kissing the guy you’d had a crush on for years

once the game started, there was no backing out

it started off simple

Yuri spun the bottle first, letting it twirl in the center before landing on her girlfriend, Mayuko

the moment they shared was sweet, cute even, before the bottle was spun around by the blonde

this time it landed on Kuon, who sat on your other side

the white-haired girl blushed profusely as Mayuko gave her a peck on the lips, nothing like the moment shared with her girlfriend

even if it was brief, it didn’t stop Kuon from becoming a blushing and blubbering mess as she spun the bottle

the next person it landed on was… oh

Yuka

the feeling of jealousy rose within you, something you saw as childish, petty even

why should you care when she kissed him with such emotion, such adoration, such-

fuck, yeah you were definitely jealous

thankfully for you, Yuka didn’t seem to return as much compassion as Kuon did, breaking away from her quickly

Yuka’s hand grips the bottle, giving a good twist of his wrist, letting the bottle spin around in the center of the room. Beside you, Kuon touches her lips softly, a grin spread out across her face. The small action of hers makes you want to roll your eyes. It was stupid, this was stupid. You glare at the bottle, eyes narrowed as you watch it spin around and around, slowing with every complete circle. Time seems to slow as the bottle makes its final turn. It passes each person one by one: You, Yuka, Rika, Yuri, Mayuko, Kuon-

You.

Oh, fuck. The bottle comes to a stop, the tip of it staring right back at you. Panic floods your body in an instant as you realize that you, the person who’s had a crush on Yuka since you had first met him, would be kissing him. Your head turns to the side, looking at the man in question. His cheeks are flushed slightly, a coy grin playing on his lips.

the scenario itself was awkward

you didn’t even know if he’d be comfortable kissing you, much less something like having a crush you

however, he wipes all of your anxieties away by simply cradling your face in his hands and pressing his lips to your own

he’s cheeky, pulling away a lot sooner than you’d like

so, you pull him back in for another, drowning out the cheers of the others in the room ( especially Kuon, who knew she was pressing your buttons before )

his lips are rough, and slightly chapped, but you can’t bring yourself to care

you can smell his aftershave too, the woody scent filling your nose, making you let out a content sigh

when you do actually pull apart, he places a peck on your nose, giving you a grin that you can’t help but reciprocate

it’s safe to say that the gave of Spin the Bottle came to a close afterward, since some people had ‘conversations’ they had to finish

[that-yandere-life]

A concept that always interested me is undercover in mafia au. Since you have done mafia Tony and Peter in the past, then maybe the reaction of Tony and Peter when they find out their obsession is actually an undercover agent? Thanks.

[Warnings: Yandere Themes (Obviously), Bodily Harm/Torture, Mentions of Blood, Dark Themes.]

Tony-

Tony initially didn’t believe Steve when he informed him that you weren’t who you said you were but actually an undercover operative.

Then he confronted you and the sheepish look on your face told him everything he needed to know.

Anger filled his entire being as he wanted nothing more than to strangle you in that moment for betraying him like that.

Of course you try to tell him that you didn’t plan on falling in love with him when you took the job.

Part of him wanted to believe you, it wanted so badly to believe you but the majority of him just couldn’t.

How could you not be honest with him when he was honest with you from the start about who he was and what he did?

Grabbing you by the back of the neck he will start to lead you to his private room, one where few people ever returned.

While you were a trained agent you of all people knew how brutal Tony could be when he was mad, and you had made him beyond mad.

So you couldn’t help but have a pit in your stomach as he sat you down in the chair sitting in the center of the room.

Using the leather straps to secure you to it, making sure it was tight enough that you couldn’t get out.

While he had no intention of killing you, there was still a bunch of information he needed from you.

What had you been telling the agency in your reports, how much did they know about his business dealings, the murders, the torture, etc?

Slapping you in the face to start off with, gripping your chin roughly in his hand as he looked into your eyes.

Tears threatened to form at the sting of the slap but you resisted the best you could, willing them to not fall.

Not sure what he wanted to do with you, he waited for you to tell him what you had done against him.

While you hadn’t reported everything there was still a great deal of illegal activity you provided them with.

Now he was going to have to clean up the mess you made, thankfully money talks loudest and he had plenty.

Going towards the door an intercom was fixed to the wall, one you hadn’t noticed before he used it to tell Steve to work out a deal with the agency, using their usual contact.

Why hadn’t you thought of that before? Of course there were higher ups that could be easily corrupted.

You never should have taken this assignment to begin with, but now you were trapped like a rat on a sinking ship.

Tony had no intentions on letting you go, because now he had an excuse to make you his forever.

No one was ever going to come looking for you after he pays them off to forget about you entirely.

However you still needed to be punished for what you did, and he knew the exact solution.

Grabbing a pair of forceps he saunters towards you holding your nose until you open your mouth to take a breath.

Gripping your tongue in the forceps he reaches over with his free hand picking up a scalpel that looks razor sharp.

Panic was setting in and you were attempting fruitlessly to get out of his grasp, the hold he had on you growing more painful by the second.

The pain of the clamp was nothing compared to the feeling of a huge majority of your tongue being sliced off in a single motion.

Blood filling your mouth, dripping down the sides of your face into your lap, a small pool forming.

All you could do was scream and writhe around, the binding still holding you in place against your struggle.

“Now you can never squeal on me again, my love. I’m sorry it had to come to this but you left me with no choice.”

Peter-

Peter was head over heels in love with you, no… obsessed with you from the moment he met you.

So when finds out that you have been his enemy all along, trying to slither your way into his ranks he is devastated.

Like his heart has just been obliterated into a thousand pieces, and he didn’t want to believe it but the proof was in front of him.

Knowing that he had to confront you but terrified at what you were going to say to him, was everything a lie?

Did you actually care about him or was it all a ruse to learn things about him to report back to your superiors.

While he could have easily taken it out on you, you simply just didn’t understand that what you were doing was wrong.

There was still time to fix things but he would have to do it without your knowledge just to see the realization in your expression.

Making a few phone calls, paying a few people off just to get you fired from your position.

Now all you had was him and his organization, where else would you go without a job, unable to get another in the same field.

Something he also took care to make sure of, contacting all his sources to ensure no agency would ever take you.

The next day you come to him crying, laying your head on his chest before everything comes out as there was no reason to hide it anymore.

At this point you accepted your fate, understanding that he might straight up kill you for your actions, but you hoped his feelings would spare you.

Thankfully you were right, and he was not going to kill you but that also didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to punish you.

Asking you if it was real the whole time or if your feelings to him were a falsity created to gain more information.

To be honest you had felt love growing for him for some time now but you had to push down your increasing attachment to do your job.

A job that had tossed you aside like you were a bag of trash when a little money was thrown into the mix.

Was it all worth it? You couldn’t say that it was in the end, because now you were sentenced to a different kind of life sentence.

One where you were now forever at Peter’s mercy, there was no getting out of the family once you were brought in… unless it was in a body bag.

While he could see true remorse and love in your eyes as he couldn’t take his own eyes off of you, he couldn’t just let it slide.

If he did then you would get it in your mind that you could get away with it again, or with something far worse and he was not about to give you that impression.

Carefully he led you to the place you dreaded the most, which was his punishment room that he used mostly for business.

Fear filled you as he sat you down in the chair, positioned in the center of the room, blood staining the seat from previous occupants.

“I’m really sorry it has come to this Sweetheart but you really haven’t given me a choice. I have to make sure you can’t leave me anymore.”

Unsure of what he means your expression shifts to one of utter confusion, that is until your eyes widened at the sight of a heavy sledgehammer.

Begging him to let you go, apologizing over and over again trying to explain that you were just doing your job.

Chuckling and shaking his head he replies that he is just doing the same, and that you brought this on yourself.

Closing your eyes as you saw him start to rear back, slamming the head of the hammer directly into your right kneecap.

Shattering the bones instantly upon impact, the left one following right after, leaving it too in a thousand pieces.

Screaming in agony he will stroke your hair and shush you, telling you how good you were for taking your punishment so well.

Gently lifting you out of the chair, carrying you in a way that wouldn’t further injure you he brought you to his bedroom.

Laying you down on the comfortable bed that you had slept in quite a few times since you had been here, but never like this.

You belonged to Peter now, perhaps you had from the beginning you just couldn’t see the big picture until now.

It was becoming all too clear, too real.

[Thank you so much for the AU idea, I hope that it was what you were looking for! It was a lot of fun to imagine! <3]

[pekejscatbed]

Man, you are Beautiful | Clyde x Stan (main), Craig x Tweek, Kyle x Kenny

Info/Warning(s):

High school AU, drinking, brief mention of weed, implied sexual content, implied cheating, ftm! Stan & Wendyl (he/him), mtf! Marjorine (she/her)x agender! Kyle (they/them), genderfluid! Kenny (he/she)

Side Ships:

Kyle x Kenny, Craig x Tweek, Kyle x Kenny x Craig x Tweek, Wendyl x Tolkien, Nichole x Tolkien, Bebe x Marjorine, (past) Stan x Wendyl

south park masterlist

———

It's a late Friday night and Roger Donovan is away for the weekend on another business trip, leaving his son Clyde home alone. Well, he would be alone, if it weren't for the whole of South Park High being inside the Donovan household; just another one of Clyde's famous parties (there's not as many people as you'd think, as South Park has always been a rather small town, though it is still a wonder that so many young adults can fit into one house).

Stan Marsh happens to be one of these party goers and, in true Stan fashion, said teen is drunk off his ass (then again, so is every other teen at this party- or high) and yelling as his super-best friend, Kyle Broflovski.

"Fuck You, Kyle, you're a piece of shit!" With a defeated sigh, Kyle begins to walk away, only to turn around when Stan speaks again. "...Kyle, I love you."

"You're a piece of shit though, fuck you!"

Kyle once again walks away, though this time they don't turn back. Instead, they make their way over to Kenny, Tweek, and Craig (Kyle's pretty sure their girlfriend is trying to get into the couple's pants again), who had been watching the whole ordeal go down, knowing Kyle has never been able to stand an intoxicated Stan.

("He yell at ya again, babe?" Kenny speaks loud enough for Kyle to hear her over the excessive music and throws an arm over his shoulder; Kyle nods.

"Same thing as always." Kyle leans into the dirty blond only to realize a second too late- "Dude! Get your hand off my ass!"

"Heh. Sorry, Ky." Kyle knows by Kenny's tone that she isn't sorry, that and the smug grin on his face that shows off his tooth gap. Perv.)

Stan watches as Kyle walks away, then makes his way to the kitchen muttering to himself. "Fuck this, I need a drink. Fuckin' dick."

As the raven-haired male opens another can of beer, he sees Wendyl kissing Tolkien and scoffs.

"Daaamn, that's gotta hurt, dude." A voice speaks from right next to Stan and he jumps, accidently splashing his beer on himself. "Oh shit!"

"Jesus-fucking-Christ!" Turning to the side, Stan sees Clyde standing there with a sheepish grin and has to hold back the urge to punch the brunet. "The fuck, dude? Warn a guy."

Clyde lets out a little laugh- holy shiiit, he's cute! "Sorry, bro. You can borrow one of my shirts, come on."

Ignoring his thoughts and blaming the alcohol, Stan follows Clyde out of the kitchen and up the stairs, only needing to push through a handful of drunken teens sucking face (Stan thinks one of the couples are Bebe and Marjorine). The two make it up the stairs with no problem, though Clyde did almost step on someone who looks oddly like Cartman in a dress passed out on the top few steps.

"Sorry about Wendyl, dude." Clyde leads the other to his bedroom. "Nichole is gonna be so mad when she finds out."

"Whatever. I though Tolkien was straight though?" Stan tries not to sound pissed off; the grimace on Clyde's face lets him know he failed.

"He is."

The two males don't say anything else to each other as Clyde rummages through his closet before finally pulling out a blank white shirt that looks a size or two too big for Stan (Clyde is 200 pounds of center, after all), though the raven-haired boy doesn't comment on it, happy enough to just change out of his beer-soaked t-shirt.

"Thanks, man." Stan peels off his old shirt and drops it to the ground, reaching out a hand for Clyde to hand him the other shirt, only to notice the other staring at him. Crossing his arms over his chest in a sudden self-consciousness of the scars there, Stan raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"I think I drank too much. Or you're just like, really hot, bro." Clyde is looking Stan up and down with wide eyes, running his tongue over his bottom lip. "Fuck, I might be gay."

Oh fuck.

Before Stan realizes what he's doing, the male is already Infront of Clyde, leaning down and gently grabbing his face between his slender hands to press his chapped lips against the others soft, plump ones. He feels the shirt in Clyde's hands fall and then the other is leaning up to kiss him back, his full hands settling on Stan's thin, yet built, waist and gripping at his hips.

———

A few hours later, deep blue eyes open to a poorly lit room and blaring pop music that only makes the growing feeling of needles piercing through Stan's skull worse. With a groan the male slowly sits up- not slow enough, he finds as he clutches at his head with a pain hiss and shuts his eyes. After a minute or two, the pain fades enough so that Stan can open his eyes without wanting to shoot his brains out and the teen takes in his surroundings.

Medium blue walls adorned with various movie and playboy posters; a long, white desk with a thin, open laptop atop it on the opposite wall of the bed Stan woke up in, and an old blue and green toy chest with the word "football" poorly written on the front sitting to the pristine desk. Next to the bed, on Stans left, is a wooden dresser that also acts as a nightstand, as shown by the half-empty water bottle laying on its side that sits on top of said dresser; in the corner of the room, right next to the dresser/nightstand, is a huge full-length mirror outlined in a yellow gold. There's one window in the room and its closed, though the blinds are open, letting moonlight seep into the room.

As for the bed Stan currently resides in, the sheets are a dark red wine color and there's a lumpy Red Racer blanket on Stans right- suddenly the blanket shifts, revealing chestnut brown hair and a chubby face.

"Clyde?" The blue-eyed boy whispers with confusion, though the male in question doesn't stir. What the fuck...? Why am I at Clyde's- oh. Oh- "shit!"

Putting the pieces together, Stan is quick to stumble out of the bed and grab his shoes (which are conveniently placed next the bed). Next, he searches for his jeans and shirt (he almost trips over the latter, though catches himself in time (Clyde must be a heavy sleeper)). Stan quickly notices how his shirt is damp and grimaces, deciding he could go shirtless for the time being and then exits the room and rushes down the stairs (is that Cartman? and is he wearing a dress?), careful not to trip over any passed-out teens or half-crushed cans of beer.

———

When Clyde wakes up a few hours later, his head is pounding, and he internally curses the sun for existing. Too damn bright.

The brunet slowly stumbles out of bed and closes the blinds, briefly relishing in the newfound dimness of his room before throwing on the first clothes he pulls out of his dresser drawers. Clyde then heads downstairs to rummage through the pantry, taking notice that everyone who attended the party last night must've gone home.

Hmm, gummy snacks? Nah. A muffin? No, those are dads. Pop-Tarts? Score! Clyde grabs a package of cinnamon and brown sugar Pop-Tarts.

"Hey, Clyde!" The male in questions shrieks throwing his breakfast in the direction of the voice. "Ow! Oh- sweet, Pop-Tarts!"

"The fuck, dude?!" Looking at the "intruder", Clyde realizes it a parka-less Kenny, who is now eating what was supposed to be the brunets breakfast. Grumbling to himself, Clyde turns around to grab another Pop-Tart. "What're you still doing here?"

"Got lucky last night." Kenny speaks through a mouthful of his- Clyde's- food. "Ya might wanna clean your dads' sheets, bro."

Clyde takes a moment to process what the dirty blond says, a bit confused. Clean dads' sheets? Why would I- "Sick, dude!"

Kenny only laughs as Clyde glares at him and gags.

"You got lucky too, yeah? Who was it?"

"Huh?" The brunet squints his eyes, having no clue what Kenny's going on about. "Man, I can't remember shit from last night."

Kenny raises an eyebrow. "Dude, whoever it was must've been good, you were so loud I could hear ya over Craig. And he's the loudest dude I've ever been with- hell, he's louder than any girl I've been with."

Clyde tunes out the other, not wanting to hear about how loud his best friend is in bed and tries to remember last night. Short, black hair, tiny tits and scars, tall- "You were with Craig last night?"

"Uh, yeah?" Kenny is the confused one now. "Kyle and Tweek, too. Why?"

"Because whoever I was with looked like Craig, but like, if he was a girl with the smallest tits I've ever seen. And scars."

"Scars?"

"Yeah, she had scars on her chest, like right under her tits." Clyde goes quiet as the realization sits in and Kenny looks ready to tell him off. "Oh fuck. I hooked up with a trans guy, didn't I?"

"Probably, dude." Kenny doesn't look as mad now, though her voice holds an ounce of annoyance and cautiousness.

"That means I fucked a dude... I had sex with a- but I- I'm not..." Clyde is pacing now, walking circles in his kitchen as he begins to panic. "I'm not gay, Kenny."

"Never said ya were, Clyde." Kenny sounds concerned, feeling like he's just gone through the stages of grief with how fast his emotions have changed throughout this conversation. "Y'know, ya could be bi."

The brunet stops his pacing and stares right at the blond, who seems to be typing something on her old phone. Clyde blinks. "What?"

Right as the word leaves Clyde's mouth, a shirtless (covered in hickeys) Craig walks into the kitchen.

"Craig! Thank God you're here!"

Craig immediately turns around.

———

did u hookup w clyde last nite ?

Seen

[chibisidesm8]

I think the only pirates AU's I have seen are centered around the twins, but I just imagine how nice would it be if Janus' scales were because being half merman! Or some other sea creature! A sea sneak?

True. Still interesting pirate AU ideas tho

I've been thinking about one too and idk if I should ramble about it here but I will anyway just cause I can.

Here's a ramble about a roceit+analogical Pirate AU:

So imagine a pirate AU with Janus being raised in a fishing town

He doesn't know anything about his origin other than his "aunt/uncle" adopted him and treated him like a son alongside their child Logan, so the two are like siblings to each other

Logan tells Janus all sorts of stories and legends of creatures of the sea

So they decide to study those together

Janus is always curious about where he's from and why he's half-reptile. His relatives don't know the answer

So fast forward, Logan and Janus are all grown up and are able to operate their family fishing ship

Janus is captain as he seems to have an affinity for the sea. Logan is his first mate

During a sail, Janus spots something on a rock, and secretly took a rowboat to get a closer look

He gets close and realizes it's another sailor who seems to have been lost at sea and was clinging to the rock

Janus rescues the sailor and takes him back on to their ship

Logan is all "Where have you been?! Who is this???"

They take the sailor back to their home to recover

Upon waking up, the sailor introduces himself as Roman. He doesn't recall much of where he came from but he knows he needs to go somewhere far across the horizon

Janus is theorizes that the place Roman is thinking about is a place where he may also find answers about himself as well

So that night, he asks Logan to go with him. Logan says if they do, they may as well be pirates

Janus is willing to take the risk. Their relatives don't stop them but instead wish them a safe journey in finding what they're looking for

So with their loyal crew, Logan, Janus, and Roman set sail

Roman is their navigator

During their voyage, Janus and Roman take a particular liking to one another as they're both trying to find answers about themselves

They have a few misadventures on other islands to resupply and all that

A crewmember is like "so are the Captain and Navigator dating?"

To which Logan responds with "the only people who don't know they're dating are Janus and Roman themselves"

Back to the action:

They suddenly encounter another ship containing more experienced pirates

They try to navigate to avoid each other

They manage to escape the first time but they take notice the ship now seems to be hunting them down

So soon, they're caught during one of their resupply stops:

Roman and a few crewmembers were out while Logan and Janus were thinking about what they've accomplished in their journey so far as they still haven't found any answers

The two get into an argument as Logan is getting frustrated by how they don't know where Roman is bringing them

"So what now? Are you going to make me choose between you two," asks Janus. Logan is silent but responds "No, I won't. But I just want you to rethink this voyage. Ask the question of where we're going and what are we really looking for? What are these answers you want?"

Janus enters deep thought but is interrupted when a crewmember bursts into the room, saying the ship was being overtaken by the pirates

Before the crewmember could return, they are interrupted by a pirate entering

This one had a purple motif, telling the siblings to surrender as their captain is waiting for them on the deck

Janus and Logan knew they were surrounded so they do

They're brought to the deck and a greenclad pirate greets them. They're shocked at his resemblance to Roman

He introduces himself as Captain Remus, and Bosun Virgil

Remus explains how frustrating it was the first time they got away that he just had to catch them for fun

Logan murmurs to Janus about how much Remus looked like Roman

Virgil, hearing the name, repeats the name. This catches Remus's attention, and his demeanor seemingly shifts from chill to hostile

With that reaction, Janus infers that Remus knows something about Roman and so in a voice of faux confidence goes "So you know Roman, too?"

"I did, once" Remus says as his glance briefly turns sullen, like he had a sort of regret, before going back to being serious. "I was going to let you live but...."

Janus starts panicking but that's when Roman and their remaining crew made themselves noticed that they were back

Remus is shocked, but moves to embrace Roman. He is apologizing a lot, holding him tight

Everyone else is stood around them. Virgil has a soft smile on his face

"What's going on? Who are you? Why are my friends tied up????" Roman asks.

Remus allows Janus, Logan, and their crew to be released and then explains to them that Roman and Remus are twins

Remus was Roman's first mate but during a battle against some mythical creature, Roman was thrown overboard and they couldn't find him, so Remus became captain

Remus explains they were heading to an island told in legends to be home to a sort of mystical siren who had answers to the deepest mysteries their heart wishes to know or could even grant a wish if one desperately wanted it

So they come to an agreement to journey together. Remus hopes the siren could restore Roman's memories, while Janus wanted answers to his origin

Janus convinces Logan that it would be worth it so now the ships set sail

Virgil and Logan come to find each other's thoughts to be relatable to their own (worries about their captains, the long aimless journeys, other pirate encounters, etc.), and some feelings may be developing between them

So through a long tough journey across the sea, they finally find the mystical island

So Janus, Logan, Roman, and Remus enter the caves while Virgil stands guard

They meet the siren named Patton, who seems to be very warm in welcoming them

He invites them to have a seat in his chamber. Logan is hesitant but Janus and Remus seem adamant about being friendly to keep the siren appeased, so they all do

When Patton asks what they came seeking for, Remus goes first and explains his regrets after Roman fell overboard and how happy he was when he found his brother again, and he wanted his brother back. Roman adds on with his side of feeling lost, not knowing where he was, and wanting to know who he once was again

Patton senses the truth in their wish and so he grants Roman his memories back

Next, Janus explains how he's been trying to find himself all his life: how much he wanted to know who he was and why he was the way he was

Patton is silent but explains they already used their wish and would have to find him again if they wanted another wish. Patton parts with the final question "Is that what your heart truly wants?"

The cave glow vanishes, leaving the group in the cave with their torchlight

Janus is angry but they don't have much time for that as they sense the island shaking

They all rush back to their ships. They make it back on time and the island vanishes

The group are left to discuss everything that happened

Janus is understandably upset. Roman apologizes to him like "I'm sorry, the wish should have been yours"

Janus looks at him, softly caressing Roman's face. He brings their heads closer, foreheads pressing. He couldn't bring himself to be mad at Roman

"I know I've been searching for it my whole life, but I can live with it. I know who I am now, I'm captain Janus [surname]. I braved the seas with you, my brother, and our crew by my side. And I am yours. I wouldn't want to change that." Janus declares, pressing his lips on Roman's

Bonus dialogue (marked with **):

**"Wait, they were dating????" Remus interrupts.

**"Well now there's three oblivious idiots," Logan replies, getting a chuckle from Virgil

**”I didn’t get to give him the ‘dont hurt my brother’ talk,” Remus pouted

So anyways, they set sail again. They already found answers, now they search for a new adventure

[huebris808]

Dr. Hofnarr’s Horrible, No-Good, Very Weird 15 Years Of Being Dead.

a tribute to fanon interpretations/character study(?) that was going to be a bonus chapter in a post-canon/au comedy fic im working on! might come back to expand on this when i do start posting it (or if mpn gives him more background story lore that i’ll have to work with aoAHGHOAUGH)

happy madness day! :o)

“Where should I begin… Perhaps at the very beginning? OH! Christoff and I first met years before our Nexus days! Back in our freshman years of college, to be precise! You know, I was actually a theater major before switching to- ... A-Aah, too far back. Much too far... Let’s start from the point where the notes I supplied to you ended then, shall we? After our dissension...”

.. “Good luck, old friend...” ..

The first years on the run from Nexus was stressful to say the least. Hofnarr and Christoff had split up to better their chances of survival. He knew the process would be grueling, having talked to Christoff almost every night about it to calm his nerves. While he played calm for the cameras, Hofnarr truly wished he could have held him close one last time. No communications. No physical contact. Day after day, month after month, nothing. He would be separated from his husband for a very long time…

It wasn’t all bad after a while. He had a comfortable new apartment, went under a new alias, and his questionable new job paid him enough to buy food. His apartment even had cable! He could watch marathons of Slaughter Time whenever he got home! In hindsight, he wondered if that had an effect on his mental state at the time...

Hofnarr had taken the last of his S3LF regulator with him, having shipped them out to an undisclosed location prior to dissension. Dissonance exposure did a number on him and his research team, leaving them to track their “normality” through daily blood tests and injections. While they met their fates early on, Hofnarr had gotten lucky. That is, until the doses began to run out.

Stressful as it was, he knew what he had to do. Hofnarr rushed back to what remained of the labs, knowing it had been abandoned by now. It was ironic, he and Christoff’s work, the work that was turned against them, was the one thing keeping him alive. For days, he worked to make more doses from the materials he brought with him. But there was only so much he could do with limited supplies… Hofnarr made many attempts to prolong the inevitable, lowering his dosage amount, injecting it weekly rather than daily, but he eventually ran dry. 

Refusing to turn to darker alternatives, he felt the only thing he could do at this point is record his final findings through video logs.

“It was… interesting revisiting the footage, to put it nicely. Christoff had actually kept the video files on a drive after he originally found all my things in the lab! I barely remembered what happened back then, so I rewatched them out of curiosity.”

On the first night, Hofnarr recorded a message for Christoff. One filled with sorrow, but also with gratitude. For the time that they spent together. How special he made him feel. All the memories they made together...

On the next, he recorded a log detailing his findings during Project Nexus. The effects of dissonance, the Other Place, what it did to him and his colleagues, everything and anything he could.

The next, he reported on the progression of his symptoms. Fever, brain fog, insomnia, joint pain. He felt like his organs were melting, his skin bursting at the seams.

The next night he saw something and remembered. Scars. The scars on his head. That week he was in the staff hospital. He thought it was a dream but the scars were there. Phobos. Director Phobos brought him somewhere that week. He knew he felt off when he woke up in the office that night. He knew something was off when Christoff asked him where he was. He thought he passed out from over-working. That bastard Phobos. Nausea was replaced with rage as he began to scream, his throat becoming raw. What did he put in him? What the hell did he put inside him!?

On the last recorded log, he was face-down on the ground. Groaning as his body occasionally convulsed. Until the video feed eventually cut off.

His body would lay there dormant, dead, for fifteen years. 

But to Hofnarr, he felt like he was dreaming.

.. “LET’S GIVE IT UP FOR OUR NEXT CONTESTANT!” ..

“Huh?” The doctor sat up and looked around, the area around him pitch black. Wasn’t he sleeping just a moment ago? He got up and took a step forward in the seemingly endless void. “H-Hello? Who’s out there?”

“AWW, DON’T BE SHY NOW! ESTEEMED AUDIENCE, A BIG ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR OUR GUEST; THE UNFORTUNATE DOCTOR HOFNARR!”

A light shined down on him from above. A crowd seemingly began to cheer all around him. He was in the center of what looked like a talk show set. Hofnarr awkwardly scratched the corner of his face. “‘Unfortunate’? W-What do you mean? W-Who are you?”

“FIGHT FIRST, ASK QUESTIONS LATER!” The voice above him called out again. “AFTER ALL, IT’S…!” Hofnarr drowned out the noise while trying to think. It sounded familiar. Like it came from…

Hofnarr’s thoughts were cut short. He looked down at his torso. Terror set in as he recognized an entire stop sign had been lodged through his chest.

“DON’T GET COLD FEET NOW! THE SHOW’S ONLY JUST BEGUN!” 

The words echoed in Hofnarr’s mind as he frantically tried to pull it out, his vision growing muddled, his hands slipping with blood until…

He blinked.

No stage. No sound. No pain.

Nothing around except for a single white door in front of him.

He stood up again, cautiously reaching for the doorknob.

When he entered he seemed to be in a vintage styled home. It was a kitchen with checkerboard flooring, a table with two chairs, and cheerful music playing through a small radio. It smelled of pastry and medical equipment. Suddenly, there was a knock coming from the door. A familiar voice called from behind it.

“I’m home, dear.” “J-Jeb?!”

Hofnarr rushed towards the front door. Christoff wasn’t trapped here too, was he? “Jeb! W-where are we!? What is this place? What happened to-”

As he opened the door, the clapping returned.

His husband was there, briefcase in hand, his face replaced with a black hole dripping with an unknown inky substance.

He slowly began to back away as “Jeb” moved closer.

The applause, the laughter, was deafening.

Before he could question or run away, Hofnarr was hit by something. His vision blurred, but refocused to be face-to-face with something. It seemed to be a shadow of himself. He tried to run again, but was pinned down by his doppelganger. The clone raised a clawed hand above him and then...

Like waking from a nightmare, Hofnarr quickly sat up once again. He gasped for air, dripping with cold sweat.

Was this really happening? Was it finally over? Was he free?

And then the spotlight focused on him again.

“It… got very surreal. Despite fight after fight, death after painful death... I would suddenly be somewhere else! There was a gameshow, our old apartment, a cat cafe, a... strip club of sorts, a tea room filled with these small armless doodles I used to draw on my research notes trying to offer me snacks… One time there was a sort of singing contest, but I won’t bore you with the details of that one. But when I wasn’t in those places, I felt like I was fighting for my life. It felt like an eternity! And the strangest part of it all? It… it became addicting.”

At first, he felt as if Hofnarr used all of his energy, physical and emotional, to fight back. It reminded him too much of his escape from Nexus. But as time went on, he focused less on escaping and more on surviving. The more he fought, the more he began to lose himself. He was anticipating what sudden whiplash of combat would be thrown at him next. He chuckled at the thought of what excitement would be heading his way. He wanted more. The fights became too slow. Too predictable. Too boring. He began toying with whatever was thrown at him. Turning his shadowy hunters into the hunted. Why let his audience watch the same old fights all the time?

Suddenly, the fighting stopped.

Why? 

He was having fun, wasn’t he? He grew impatient.

“WHAT’S THE HOLD UP!” He yelled into the void, seething with anger. “AREN’T WE SUPPOSED TO BE FIGHTING? ISN’T THAT WHAT I’M HERE FOR?!”

He stomped his foot down, lodging something out of the ground.

The stop sign.

He looked over it curiously. How familiar…

Grabbing hold of it, quick flashes of memories appeared to him.

Nexus, the Science Tower, Phobos, the Other Place… 

A man with long hair standing next to...

Hofnarr… 

Who was that? Was that him?

No…

Only Tricky remained.

Footsteps echoed throughout the halls of the abandoned lab. Heels quickly clicking, cautiously stopping every so often. A lone Nexus Core agent entered through one of the doors.

Perfect timing.

“HAY! YOU THERE!!” A voice stuttered and glitched out, reverberating through the emptiness of the lab. The quickly soldier whipped their head around. “YEAH! YOU, STUPID. PLAY WITH ME!!”

“Who’s there?” The agent pointed their magnum towards the noise. “Show yourself!”

Gladly. The cackling figure emerged from the shadows, posing with a peace-sign, causing the agent to recoil. He grinned, slowly moving towards the cowering goon on the ground. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Who are you!?”

They couldn’t kill him.

“FIGHT FIRST. ASK QUESTIONS LATER! AFTER ALL…” 

CAN’T KILL CLOWN.

“IT’S MURDER TIME!”

..

“My body had been there, regenerating and repeating the enmeshment process for years. And by the time I woke up, I was a completely different person. I became a creature of unfiltered impulse… A personification of chaos itself.”

The room grew silent before Hofnarr spoke up again.

“I-Is it horrible to say it was… kind of cool?” He said with a nervous chuckle, twiddling his fingers.

2BDamned was quiet for a moment. They recalled the many times they had to stitch their comrades back together due to Clown Moments. They placed their head in their palms and let out a sigh.

“... You have the right to your own opinion.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BONUS: songs i was listening to on loop while working on this instead of doing my damned writing assignment. Enjoy

lady gaga ft. dorian electra - replay

vestik - tricky's vengeance ft. monocronic

[aliensunflower-fics]

In Defense of Salt AND Sugar: Aka ML Fandom pls chill out.

So I don’t talk much as those who follow me will say I tend to just stick to myself and my own things. HOWEVER, Ive gotten a lot of asks about why I write both Salt and Sugar for Miraculous Ladybug.

The short answer: Both salt and sugar are valid, fun, intriguing things to read and write and the point of writing is to entertain and be entertained.

The long answer: Salt isn’t inherently someone hating on your fav show and sugar isn't someone necessarily giving it a free pass either. Ya’ll are just dramatic as hell.

The LONGER answer:

I write salt because I LIKE Miraculous Ladybug, BUT the show has not lived up to its potential AT ALL. The show could be so much better and the characters are so flawed or full of holes that occasionally I feel FRUSTRATED and mad!

I hate that Alya a character who I was so excited about, gets shafted ignored, sidelined, or written like a jerk! She could have been this great detective working alongside her friend to unmask the villain, but instead she often comes across as pushy, obsessed with Ladynoir or Adrinette, and so damn easily tricked. Not to mention how when shes not gushing over her ‘ships’ shes pushed to the side and ignored. [or you know... LILA]

I hate that Marinette’s crush makes her do things that are so cringy and awkward i feel ill I hate that she’s constantly the only one making mistakes and ‘learning lessons’ when the show has all these other great characters that could use the spotlight and be the ones learning lessons. I hate that she’s so jealous and that she cant ever seem to catch a break as if the show is punishing her constantly.

I HATE that Adrien is a mary sue, how the writers say hes perfect and treat him as such, I hate that he gets to guilt Marinette into fixing everything and dealing with bullies, I wanted a funny, Ron Stoppable, naive boy who learns about real friendships and grows into a great partner. Instead he gets to be pushy and downright a jerk as Chat Noir ignoring his responsibilities, guilting Ladybug with his feelings, never taking no as an answer. He’s not a good role model for kids.

I hate that Chloe got built up to have a redemption arc several times only for the writers to decide that Chloe a teenage girl who needs some serious therapy [and actual reasonable punishment for her actions] is worse than Gabriel child abuse Agreste. She could have been a great lesson on compassion and growth and dealing with your own pain without hurting others. Instead the writers wrote her off completely.

And dont get me started on how the show treats Nino, Kagami, Luka and the rest of the cast. They may as well be a backdrop for the forced love square that we NEVER get a break from. Seriously I’m a sucker for romance but does it need to be EVERY damn episode?! Can’t we just get some wholesome friendship between everyone including Adrien and Marinette at this point like COME ON.

And i’m not even touching on the white washing, awful lessons on responsibility and forgiveness, awful lessons on well so much other stuff really, the guilt trips, the teacher, the fact that she show could be used to teach kids how to better handle negative emotions and the importance of open communication and not keeping quiet about injustice and/or your feelings but instead decided that the main priority should be a love square that gets force fed to us EVERY SINGLE EPISODE.

My point is the show has FLAWS. That doesn’t mean its the worse show ever and it doesn’t mean its not fun, and has a great premise and characters, and so when I write Salt I write it because i’m frustrated! Im frustrated with the show, with the characters, with the writing and so I vent that out with salt I write those characters as their worst selves because I cant stand how the show has decided to treat them and Im ANGRY and disappointed.

It feels good to write salt and to read it. It’s nice to see characters get called out for bad behavior, its nice to read about Adrien not getting the girl. Its nice to occasionally indulge in salt because it validates that the show is flawed and lets you get out that frustration.

BUT ON THE FLIP SIDE

Miraculous Ladybug is a lovely show. It’s a show that decided to give little girls a FEMALE HERO. And not just as a side kick or background character! No they made her the protagonist! Its so important to me that little girls see good well rounded female characters in media.

And even if the show is clumsy about it they are TRYING to build an expansive lore that tickles the theorist brain. And gets people invested in the world.

The show also made Marinette shy, and awkward, and clumsy something a lot of girls deal with during puberty as growing up can literally make you clumsier as your body adjusts. Having a character who tries to be positive and tries to find solutions who solves things with creativity instead of pure violence. Thats LOVELY for young girls to see.

Growing up I loved and admired Kim Possible, and probably would have loved Marinette, even if the shows not perfect I can admit its trying and I can see why people love it as much as they do! And why they write these fluffy sugary fics its the reason I WRITE fluffy sugary things.

Because even though I am frustrated and angry and disappointed with the show, I still see Alya’s potential and how great she is as representation to little girls who want a black female superhero so I write fluff where Alya’s loyalty, compassion, cleverness and her pursuit of justice are center stage.

I see how Adrien could be better and I want him to be better and I WANT him to be the naive funny comic relief the Ron Stoppable to Marinette’s Kim Possible. I want Adrien to grow and learn and spit in his dad’s face I want him to overcome the abuse and be happy. To show people that neglect and abuse doesn’t mean you will get stuck like that forever, that you can overcome that and be a better kinder person.

I want Nino and Kagami, and Luka and Chloe and the class to grow and get attention and have funny moments I want to laugh and make other people laugh! So I write prompts focused around comedy and shenanigans and where the characters get to be fun and silly and make decisions for themselves!

SO IN CONCLUSION:

I write salt AND sugar. I see the value and merit in both sides of the coin, and I respect how other people see the show. I know its easy to get angry with other people in the fandom who see the show differently then you do but please can we put down the weapons and just BREATHE.

Someone who writes salt might LOVE the same show as you, and they might in fact love it so much that they vent their frustrations in angst and salt and cracky fics. Let them vent about how they wish the show was better, leave their tags alone or block them if you cant stand to see it. But dont attack salt writers for ‘hating on your show’ when they might love it just as much as you do but want a way to vent out their feelings.

On the flip someone who writes sugar might NOT be forgiving the show for its flaws, they might see all the same flaws as you but decide to take that frustration and write fluff and fix it fics and sugar because they want to indulge in a version of their favorite show where everything is just... OK. Where everyone is well written and happy and the character development sticks. Stay out of their tags let them have their sugar, they aren't writing it to hurt you just like you don't write salt to hurt them.

So ENOUGH. Enough hunting each other down, enough sending each other hate, enough filling each others tags. Let people write SALT if they feel angry and vengeful and disappointment, let them have their tags, let them explore the dark side of the characters, let them rant and rave and be HURT when the characters they love upset them with their actions. Its not your place to tell them to stop, to tell them their feelings are invalid, to tell them that ‘adrien is sweet sunshine boy how dare you’ or ‘alya would never’ or ‘i hate your marinette leaves dupont au’. Just leave it be, heed the tags, and let it go.

AND ENOUGH. Enough hunting each other down, enough sending each other hate, enough filling each other tags. Let people write SUGAR if they just want something to feel happy about. Let them makes coffee shop au’s, let them make fix it fics where everything is just happy without needing 8 pages of backstory for why everything is just happy. Let them squeal and gush and talk about the ship they like and the fluff they see. Its not your place to argue with them that the show is flawed, its not cool to ruin their fun by accusing them of not understanding the flaws, to tell them ‘umm actual this character shouldn’t get to be happy’ or ‘wow this is so shallow’. Just leave it be, heed the tags, and let it go.

PS: Now with that said and done. I do have one final message for everyone - If you write/enjoy pedophilia, if you sexualize KIDS. Then get the fuck out of fandom spaces, stop fucking following me, and do everyone salt and sugar a favor by LEAVING. Your pedophilia and child sexualization aint wanted, aint ok, and I will fight you.

PSS: IF YOU HATE WHAT IVE SAID ABOUT SUGAR AND SALT FINE OK I RESPECT YOU REGARDLESS. ENJOY THE SHOW, STAY CLASSY, DONT HURT PEOPLE BECAUSE THEY HAVE A DIFFERENT OPINION.