#so there is a sort of wistful angle of

[gilverrwrites]

Just a little bit bad

Villain!Dick Grayson/Robin!Reader, 1K words Kinktober entry 11: Corruption Warnings: Mild dub-con | Choking Requested by: Anonymous

Nobody knows who Renegade is, not even Batman. Gossip amongst the underground varies wildly, some say that he’s a former cop or secret agent, others that he’s a mafioso, a villain since the day he was born. One story goes that he used to be some sort of acrobat or gymnast and you can believe it. He just loves to put on a show. Even now, he’s balanced on the tip toes of one foot, the other crossed over the back of his leg. His back is perfectly arched as he leans forward, pressing all of his weight onto your burning throat with one hand. The other holds your utility belt just out of reach, turning and twirling it as he examines your tools. Clearly, he finds nothing of interest, as before long he throws it, with significant force. It lands out of sight. Hopefully on an adjacent rooftop, and not an alleyway far below.

You stare with wet, stinging eyes as he re-focuses his attention your shaking form, ignoring the way you claw at his forearm. He angles his body to the side, tilting his head, lips twisting into an amused smirk before he sighs in mock wistfulness and casually asks; “Do you ever get tired of it?”

You've no idea what he's talking about. Couldn't answer him with more than a choked cry if you wanted to, but he knows that, it's part of his game. Ever since your first faced off, Renegade seems to take a particular joy in making you squirm. This isn’t the first time he’s had you cornered, but it’s the first time you’ve been without back-up. You do your best not to tremble at the ominous though that he has you trapped like a mouse, wrapped around his fingers, right where he wants you.

When you fail to reply to his question with more than the narrowing of your eyes he laughs, slapping his head as if to say ‘duh’ before he explains. “I mean do you ever get tired of being the hero?” As though the problem with his question had been the finer details.

The lack of oxygen is quickly making you lightheaded but you've enough whereabouts to shake your pounding head.

“No? Huh.” He finally releases your throat, kicking back onto two legs and playfully scratching his chin in consideration of your answer. Immediately, you launch yourself at him but you're still weak. Sluggish from being suffocated. Renegade easily stops you in your tracks, pinning you back to the wall, this time with his whole body.

One unyielding hand holds your arms above your head, suspending you a few inches above the grounds, and his legs tuck snuggly between your own, his thick, muscular thighs ensuring you're spread around him.

His breath feels unnaturally cold on the heated skin of your face as he nestles against you. Speaking low, almost intimately, he continues to probe; “C’mon Robin, don’t you ever get sick of all that self-righteousness? All that straight-and-narrow bullshit?”

Your body is still reeling, you’re panting for air, your heartbeat rings in your ears; violently pulsing throughout every inch of your body, but you notice when Renegade begins to trail his fingers ever so lightly along your stomach, brushing dangerously close to the junction between your legs, but never crossing the line.

You're two distracted to answer his question, but you feel the smile on his lips as he presses them into your jawline, speaking into the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Is it hard? Pretending you don't want to be bad? Just a little bit?”

“I’m not pretending.” You finally offer him an answer, voice soft, barely a whisper, and you blame it on your strained vocal chords. “I am good.”

“You’re good.” He echoes, tone steeped with mocking. Leaning back, he blatantly examines your hot and swollen face. His stormy eyes watching you as he chews his bottom lip in such a way that you have to admit it’s maddeningly enticing. “Batman must be sooo proud.”

You wouldn't have had a smart quip if he'd allowed you the time, instead you suck in a loud, sharp breath as he takes your mouth with his own. His kiss is harsh and hungry, like he’s trying to consume you, and though it would pain you to confess it aloud, you melt into it quickly, allowing him to have his way with your lips, nipping at them until you open for his tongue to slip between them.  

Your chance to really put a stop to things comes when he releases your bound wrists, but the moment comes and goes, and you do nothing to fight him. In fact, you unabashedly wrap your arms around his shoulders, helping, encouraging him even, when he cups your thighs and lifts you until you're crushed against each other. You feel clumsy, unable to rock your pelvis with the same grace as Renegade, but you do it anyway, rutting yourself against the hardened bulge in his suit.

“Such a good, good birdy.” Though he sounds sweet, you know it’s a taunt; meant to remind you of the claim you’d made only moments ago. Despite his ridicule, you continue to buck your hips, roughly rubbing your clothed and tender core against him because beneath all the pain, and adrenaline, beneath the shame, you like how it feels.

“Look at you.” Renegade knows this too, and he’s fucking smug about it, gripping your chin and forcing you to look down, to watch yourself grinding on him. “What would the people think, if they could see you know, huh? Practically begging for some big bad dick.”

The flush upon your skin is no longer from the asphyxiation. It’s entirely sexual and moral frustration. Luckily, he doesn’t expect an answer to his rhetoric, instead he asks you to confess something much more much challenging. “I think you want to be bad, just for me. Am I right?”

Any words you can conceive catch in your throat. You want nothing more than to continue, but can't bring yourself to agree with him; the enemy, the bad guy. Yet he looks so good under the sombre city lights, and his body feels so sinfully right, pushed up against yours. His voice is so mesmeric as he whispers more words of encouragement. “Come on little bird, wont you sing a sweet song, just for me?”

Please try not to stress over things that are out of your control!

Kinktober Masterlist

[amalainse]

"life spring"

— gojo satoru

tags ට lite somno (consensual), praise kink, pussy job, riding, vanilla and full of so much love its gross, morning sex, lowkey sub satoru, established marriage, fix it fic of sorts

a/n ට i listened to hozier the entire time i wrote this. so thats how you guys know im serious about the vanilla sex.

───⠀౨ৎ this is the married life that gojo deserves and it's his and sometimes he can't believe its all real. (1.4k wc)

the room glows like pure gold, spun from the sun's waves.

its warm and it smells like home and satoru's eyes blink open slowly before shutting again. there are other colors too ; pretty cherry blossom pinks, hazy greens and blue the color of the sea. a gift from the first years — from nobara in particular. it's supposed to mimic stained glass.

satoru wants to cling to his dream for a moment longer. a boat, rocking gently at sea. you and your smile as you took turns pushing each other overboard. but the fuzzy feeling is lifting and faster by the second.

a bird cries and sings its morning song. satoru opens his eyes and grins.

the first thing he always sees when he wakes up is you. whether thats when your curled up under his chin like you want to burrow up under your skin. or if its like now—with your face inches away from his, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, grinding down on his cock.

satoru reaches out to pull you down, and breathes your name against your lips. not quite kissing, just breathing the same air. bucks up once and twice, smiling at your cheeky grin. like you aren't more undone than he is.

"'morning, satoru" you giggle, kissing him finally, sounding breathless.

his fingers find your waist, secretly delighting in your bareness. hums appreciatively as your weeping cunt rocks down against his cock—fully hard now. "its a very good morning"

he has no shame at all in admitting he loves this—loves when you take charge. when you go for what you want. you had spent so long being meek, trying to blend into the background. hoping to fade away. but you've come into your own, and satoru likes to think he's apart of that. how he gives you the stability, the comfort, to chase what you're after.

"did you cum yet?" satoru asks, fingers tracing shapes into your skin.

you shake your head, lip caught between your teeth. but you know to keep your eyes open—focused completely on him.

"that's my good girl" satoru says, proud. you let out a shaky whine, pace faltering. "my pretty wife, so wet for me"

your hands come down to frame his chest, nails pretty against his skin as your hips grind in tight little circles that have him groaning out. and then your hand grabs his dick—holding him right where you want him, oh god—grinding more firmly against your clit.

"that's what you needed baby? needed my dick, didn't you?" satoru asks, like you both don't already know the answer. pleasure zips up his spine as your movements grow faster, sloppier. the pressure's enough to keep him on the edge, enough to make him feel like he could cum, maybe—but doesn't. it's the best. his hand rubs your back, moves your hair out of your eyes. "i don't mind sweetheart, its your dick. my hot, perfect wife"

you sob, muscled thighs trembling as you chase your high. your nails dig into his chest and he knows your searching for it now—the perfect stroke that'll finally make you cum.

"my perfect sorcerer wife is so strong" satoru whispers, gently caressing your stomach. "so beautiful. i'm so lucky. you gonna cum soon aren't you, baby? gonna cum messy too?"

you nod, another broken sob falling from your lips, fractured uh-uh-huhhh, satoru. you change your angle, and suddenly the wet sounds of your pussy sliding against his cock fill the room.

"yeah," he says, nodding, a wistful sigh leaving his lips. "can you hear yourself baby, hear how fucking wet and sloppy you are?"

and that's what does it for you—slumping down into his neck with a wail, as you take his hand and lead it down to your cunt. he knows what you want immediately, rubbing you fast and hard as you cum.

"you did so good," he says, sticking his fingers into his mouth to suck off the taste. your hips shake and quiver with the intensity of your orgasm. you don't answer for a long minute, and he can feel the soft puffs of air against his skin.

"hi" you breathe, finally, smiling at him

"hi" he says back, like a dork. you snuggle in closer, fingers brushing up softly against his cheek. satoru smiles and briefly closes his eyes. he can feel the smile breaking out onto his face, impossible to stop. never did he think he could be here, and have this : softness, laughter and smiles. peace.

"mm, and what are you laughing at?" you ask, leaning up on one elbow.

satoru opens his eyes. grins cheekily. "you. i was thinking your head looked like a raisin"

your mouth opens and closes in disbelief. the hand that been so gently caressing his face moments ago pinches his cheek sharply. and then you get that familiar mischievous look in your eye.

"no wait—" he protests, far too late. you descend upon him, jabbing your fingers into his sides, and his stomach and the side of his neck—where he is most ticklish. satoru writhes on the bed, loud peals of laughter bursting from him as he tries every yielding term in the book.

"oh yeah not so funny now is it?" you goad, although the sound of his laughter drowns you out.

"okay, okay, okay—"

a loud thud, and satoru falls of the bed and crashes to the floor in a heap of too-long limbs.

"oh shit" you mutter, and he doesn't need six eyes to tell him that you're covering your mouth with your hand to hide your laughter. you lean over the edge of the bed, eyes crinkling in the corner. age has done well by you. "baby, are you okay?"

"i think i broke my back" satoru groans, and massages his lower back to nail the point in further. "i'm getting so old"

"oh please" you snort, rolling your eyes, "you're only 39"

"that means i already have one foot in the grave!"

you roll your eyes again, pulling him up on the bed. "yes, you old old man. practically dead already"

"its been a good run" satoru says dramatically, tossing his head back onto the pillow. "i'm going to die happy now. 10 long years married to the love of my life"

"mmm" you hum, noncommittally, reaching over to feel up on his cock. his back straightens and he gets hard again embarrassingly fast. "do you think you have enough life left to handle me riding you?"

satoru pretends to think about it, massaging your right tit, slightly smaller than the left—fitting so perfectly into his hand. "try not to squeeze my soul out of my body and we're good"

"good," you say, settling on top of him again "i want you in me"

"fuck—baby, you can't just—" satoru gasps, as you breach yourself with his cock in one hard thrust. all coherent thought tumbles from his mind, gone with the wind, when he feels your warm cunt flutter around him and then squeeze. "you're doing that on purpose"

"am i?" you ask cheekily, smirking, riding him hard and fast. your ass smacks down against his thighs loudly, and when he dares to look at the place where the two of you are connected—he sees the ring of white around the base and has to screw his eyes shut to stop himself from cumming. he groans, tossing his head back, arm shielding his face from view.

ten years, and he still has to fight from busting his load the minute you get your cunt around him. ten years and he still keens, still mumbles shaky gasps and praises into the air. hands squeezing delicately around your hips, occasionally going to cup your ass—to help you along.

not that you need it. you grind down, hand massaging and squeezing at his pecs, as your go in tight circles around his dick. then you rise back up, letting him slip all the way out before slamming back down again.

you lean down next to his ear, taking his lobe between your teeth and biting gently. "baby?"

"y-yeah?" satoru asks, voice high, thrusting up into your tight heat in short aborted pumps of his hips. "you need something from me?"

"mmm" you moan in affirmation and he can feel you smiling against his cheek. "i want you to cum in me now"

satoru's grip on your hips turns bruising. he holds you still and shoves his dick into you over and over again, loud in the silent room. so good he can't think, broken praises and curses spilling from his lips. he brings you down and slams up into you one last time before doing exactly what you ask of him.

[corruptedcaps]

The Goddess Complex

The Goddess Complex was originally an early 3 part story I wrote but Tumblr banned part 2 some time ago. I was going to re-release part 2 with SFW images but I thought, screw it I'll rewrite them all into one post. Enjoy!

---

Lisa kicked and struggled as two large men strapped her to a stone table in darkened room. She had been taken from her bed in the middle of the night, blindfolded and taken to this place, wherever it was.

As one of the men pulled off her blindfold she finally could see where she was. As far as she could tell she was in some sort of theater. Balconies wrapped around the center of the room, where she was currently tied. Each seat in the theater was occupied by a cloaked figure

"What do you want from me? I didn't do anything wrong! I'm not a bad person!" Lisa screamed but no one answered. No one made a sound. The silence however did not last long and was soon punctuated with the clicking of heels walking into the room.

The cloaked figures seemed to lower their heads in reverence to the person walking in. Lisa strained to see who it was but couldn't get the right angle. The voice she heard next sent a chill down her spine.

"You didn't do anything wrong my dear, you're not a bad person. But don't worry, I'll fix that." Said the cold seductive purr of a woman. Her voice echoing around the walls of the theater.

The woman strolled onto the stage and stood over Lisa allowing her to finally see her. It was the most beautiful woman Lisa had ever seen. She had platinum blonde hair and wore tight black latex. Her face was cold and domineering. Lisa wanted to look away but she was almost hypnotic. Her tits were so large the piece of clothing holding them in was creaking with each movement.

"W-who are you? W-what do you want from me?" Lisa said barely above a whisper.

"My name is Lilith and I am a Goddess. A Goddess of power, of beauty, of darkness. You have been chosen to receive a very special gift. A gift everyone in this room would die for. Many have." Lilith said her voice carrying immense weight.

"Gift? What kind of gift?" Lisa asked, a little intrigued.

"The most sacred of all gifts, my soul. I have had this body for 200 years and grow tired of it. I have had my fun with it, pushed it to sexual, mental and physical extremes and it has served me well but I crave a new body. Your body to be exact." Lilith said with a wicked smile.

"But what happens to me? My mind? My soul?!" Lisa shouted.

"They will cease to be. There will only be me, Goddess Lilith. Your pathetic farm girl body will be transformed into a vessel fit for me and my power. This body I inhabit was once like yours is now. Underdeveloped. Unremarkable. Unfuckable. But when I take control, all that will change." Lilith said almost salivating at the thought.

"Why my body? Take one of your cultists here!" Lisa said suddenly realising the gravity of her situation.

"For the successful transfer to occur, the body needs to be pure, untouched, virginal. All my followers have been spoilt by me." Lilith said almost wistful.

"What? No you can't do this! I'm not even a v-" screamed Lisa as she renewed her struggling.

"I grow weary of this." Lilith said cutting Lisa off as she placed a single finger on Lisas forehead. Instantly Lisa stopped, paralysed unable to do or say anything, her mouth still wide open. The only thing she could move were here eyes.

She watched as Lilith clicked her fingers and a second stone table rose from the floor. She lay down upon it as her followers began to chant in a language Lisa had never heard.

The lights in the room began to flickered and the walls started to shake. Lilith lifted a blade high above her own stomach and with one final incantation word from her mouth she drove the dagger into her chest.

A bright blinding light began to escape from the newly formed hole. The light filled the room making it hard to see. Lilith's arms went limp as the light escaped her body, swirling around the room like a snake. Spotting Lisa's open mouth it dove towards it. Lisa felt a hot sensation as it slid down her throat, slowly diminishing the light in the room until it was all gone.

Lisa blinked, not believing what had just happened. She also wondered why she could still feel her body, why she could now move her fingers again. Why her mind was still intact and not taken over by some crazy evil Goddess. That's when she realised that Lilith and her followers had messed up.

Lisa was by no means sexually active but she also wasn't a virgin. She theorized that they had grabbed her by mistake. There was a pious girl in her town also called Lisa who everyone knew was saving herself for marriage. Could this have been the girl they meant to take?

All Lisa knew was that she had to get out of there before they found out their plan didn't work. Before she could put any plan into action there was movement in the room.

The figures in the room slowly stood up and Lisa closed her eyes pretending to be unconscious. She heard the heavy steps of the disciples surround her.

"Goddess? Was the transfer a success?" She heard one ask.

"Jokes on you, you guys messed up." She thought but then an idea struck her. Maybe she could use this to her advantage to escape. She had to act fast, emphasis on the word act.

Lisa shot her eyes open and looked at the disciple with disdain.

"Of course it worked you fool, how dare you question your Goddess. Now untie these binds." Lisa snarled. For a moment she was worried it had not worked, the man looked confused. However another man quickly pushed him out of the way and began to undo her restraints.

"Forgive him my Goddess, he is a newer recruit to our church. He was merely worried for your well being." The man said as Lisa sat up. She just needed to get out of this room and away from so many of these people, thankfully they seemed to respond to her act so far.

"Worried?" Lisa let out a sarcastic laugh as she turned to the younger member. "I have performed this ritual countless times. Never doubt my power worm." She raised her hand towards him, as if she were to shoot lighting from it.

She didn't even know if Lilith had such powers but as the crowd of people parted in fear as if she were wielding a weapon she thought to herself, "I am nailing this." She would get herself out of there in no time.

"I need to retire to my quarters to recover my strength. You two!" She growled pointing at two disciples who had strapped her down. Despite their hulking appearance they seemed just as worried of her wrath as the the others. It gave Lisa a weird thrill.

"Escort me at once." She said getting off the stone table. The guards bowed and turned, walking towards a door. Lisa followed behind while the rest of the cultists remained in the theater. As they walked through the door Lisa breathed a silent sigh of relief. As well as her act was going she knew she wasn't out of the woods yet.

As they walked down the long corridor, Lisa was finding herself constantly retightening her pyjama pants, she didn't remember them being so loose on her waist. Conversely her sleep shirt was feeling unusually tight around her chest. Not enough to cause any breathing problems but enough to be irritating.

"Before I make my escaped maybe I should change into something a little more comfortable, I'm sure the Goddess won't mind." Lisa thought to herself with a chuckle.

Unbeknownst to her, her body had began to subtly transform. Her boobs were a size bigger, her stomach was more toned and she had instantly dropped ten pounds. These changes seemed to radiate to even the way she walked, each stride more confident than the last, her head held higher with an almost royal like air.

She was about to realise that they weren't the only changes taking place....

PART 2

Lisa was led down many corridors and through several halls until her and her escorts arrived at their apparent final destination.

"This place is a maze. How will I know where to get out?" Lisa thought to herself as they stood before two giant and grand doors. The two burly men each pushed open one of the doors, revealing a room of darkness. Not wanting to appear weak, Lisa strode in confidently. Instead of following the men closed the doors behind her and she was plunged into darkness.

“Shit, now what?” She said to herself.

As if hearing her frustration, all of a sudden candles in the room began lighting themselves around her, illuminating the opulent bedroom. It's decor and design was far more rich and luxurious than the halls she had walked through. It was a bedroom truly fit for a Goddess. At the center of the room was the biggest bed Lisa had ever seen.

"Big enough for an orgy." Lisa thought to herself with a smirk before quickly shaking her head to rid her of the out of character thought.

At the back were two identical doors spaced apart. Pushing open one she found it to be an equally sumptuous bathroom. The floor and walls were lined with marble and at the back of the room was a large and spacious bathtub.

Lisa bit her lip. She knew she needed to get out of there as soon as possible but the bathtub looked so inviting.

“I could use a wash, those brutes weren’t gentle or clean when they took me.” Lisa said to convince herself as she drew the bath.

“It couldn’t hurt to have a little me time.” She mused while taking off her dirty and torn clothing.

She stood before the floor to ceiling mirror fully naked. She put her hands on her hips and posed identically to how she had seen Lilith pose earlier. She didn’t notice her bigger boobs or her tighter waist.

“After all, I am the Goddess.” She said in her best dominant voice as she stared cold eyed at her reflection before breaking and laughing at herself. “Yeah right, me a Goddess?!” She laughed again as she slipped into a black silk night gown that was hanging up as she waited for the tub to fill.

"Those guards might have pulled something, my boobs feel tender and look swollen." She said as she rubbed them. Almost instantly her nipples stood on end.

"Ohhh and they're so sensitive too." She moaned lightly as her fingers made circles instinctively around her rock hard nipples. She was so lost in the sensation that she didn't notice her nails were long and manicured now.

“I wonder if Lilith played with herself like this while bathing. No I bet she would of had people to do it for her. I can see it now ‘you slave caress my nipples… not with your fingers… with your tongue’, yeah I bet she took a lot of pleasure in doing that." Lisa said to herself as a sly grin crossed over her face. She closed her eyes and let the wicked images play out in her mind.

She could see it now, the blonde Goddess beckoning to a waiting well hung man to come over to the bathtub.

“Mmmmm you want to please your Goddess don’t you slave.” Lilith asked to the man who nodded obediently.

"Then prove it." Lisa said herself in a whisper, captivated by the scene before her.

"Then prove it. Show me how much you are devoted to me." Lilith said to the slave echoing Lisa's words. The man walked over to the tub and got in, it's large size proving more than spacious. He stuck his tongue out and traced mini circles around Lilith's nipples.

Both Lisa and Lilith moaned in unison. Lisa was mimicking the action of the slave with her fingers, or perhaps it was her imagination that was following the actions of her fingers? Whatever the case Lisa was finding herself in bliss. Strangely she also found herself closer to the bathtub now too.

"Gooooood. Now lower." Lisa said, her voice now tinged with a level of coldness she had previously lacked. Lilith did not repeat her words this time, choosing to simply point instead.

The man ran his tongue down her body, getting to her clit. He waited however, not wanting to proceed before his mistress allowed it. But he did not look to Lilith, instead he looked at Lisa. Opening her eyes for a second she suddenly found herself in the tub.

Not wanting her fantasy to end she closed her eyes and imagined the man opposite her in the tub, she was now polity in her fantasy. The slave still looked at her, awaiting approval. She was fully in control and it was making her unbelievably wet.

"Do it!" Lisa said in a commanding voice. With a deft move the man's tongue slid into her slit and Lisa moaned once again, her voice deeper and stronger. In her head she could hear Lilith moan in snyc with her as well, if a little quieter than before.

Her hand was clinging on tight to the slaves head directing his tongue around her perfect pussy. “Oh thats it’s make your Goddess cum, you will be rewarded for doing so.” Back in reality she was plunging her fingers deep inside herself, exploring parts of her body she had been too shy to have before. She was verging on having the best orgasm of her life.

“Yessss oh fuck yes. Make me feel your complete devotion to your Goddess. Please your Goddess. I deserve all of this power and worship, I am beautiful, I am powerful….. Ohhhhhhhhhh… I am.... GODDESS LILITH!”. A huge cascade of pleasure engulfed Lisa as she screamed out the name in the echoing bathroom. She held her head and let out soft moans as she experienced the after shock orgasms in waves.

“Ohhhhhhh fuck I can't believe how hard I just came. I haven't done that since…. I don't think I’ve ever came like that.” Lisa said slowly regaining her composure. She spent a few more minutes actually washing herself, all the while resisting the urge to pleasure herself again.

Stepping out of the bathtub grabbed a towel to dry off and found herself staring at her reflection, captivated by the sight. She didn't notice that her boobs had once again grow, now two sizes bigger. Her skin had take on a light tan and her hair, despite just being in the water, looked perfectly sleek and shiny. All she could see was how hot she was.

“Mmmmm maybe it wasn't so crazy to think I could pass as 'The Goddess'. I am obviously sexy enough.” She purred as she took in her reflection vainly for a couple more minutes. She admired her every curve, soon convincing herself that she was in fact Goddess material, if not better. Just as she was contemplating playing with herself some more she realised her clothes were missing.

"Who would dare steal my clothes!?" She said in a booming voice that demanded answers. Stomping out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom she was about to reign down hell on the two guards when her eye caught the other door in the room.

“If that door led to the bathroom then this door must lead to the-" She said throwing open the other door. Her eyes lit up as she saw the inside, and a fiendish smile crept across her face “-the closet.”

Part 3

Lisa stood before racks and racks of clothing. There was everything from elegant ballgowns to skimpy lingerie. High heeled shoes to designer bags. Latex whips to steel chains. She ran her fingers across it all feeling each item slowly. She picked up a whip and ran it sensually across her naked body.

"Mmmm I wonder what naughty things Lilith has gotten up to in here?" She said with a smirk to herself but then quickly shaking it off.

"Ok enough playing around I need to find something that won't have anyone questioning my orders so I can walk right out of here. Not that they should question their Goddess!" She said suddenly snapping into character before shaking it off again.

"I need something dominating, authoritative, powerful." She said to herself while absent-mindedly playing with her tits.

"There are just too many options that look so fucking good and nasty! Hang on what am I saying?!” She thought to herself, these were garments for an evil bitch Goddess. They weren't her style, she just needed to pick something. Grabbing an item at random, she started to put it on.

"No I'm a good kind girl not some crazy cult queen." She said pulling on the knee high latex boots.

"Don't get me wrong though what girl wouldn't want to be worshipped as a goddess?" She said slipping into the tight black latex pants.

"But it's not right to have that kind of power over people... Even if the people are are pathetic helpless worms." She said with a sting of venom behind the last part as she put on the tight latex top, it's material managing to contain the massive tits she now had.

"They would be lost without me really. The Goddess that is. Like ants without a queen. With Lilith gone, they'll be impotent after I escape." She said putting on expensive gold jewelry. Her look complete she turned and faced the mirror.

At first her expression was that of surprise. Her body was pure beauty now. She looked like she had been poured into her outfit, an outfit that screamed power. Her body had morphed over the course of an hour into a perfect female form.

Her new bigger tits were nearly spilling out of her top. Her waist was crunched in so impossibly that it was a miracle she could breathe. Dark mascara had somehow appeared on the eyelashes and lipstick covered her now supple lips.

Her surprise soon warped into a look of contempt. Not for herself but for how she remembered all the disciples in the theater. Seeing her undeniable beauty filled her with disdain for anyone lesser than her which in her eyes was everyone. A cold pleasurable shiver ran over her body.

"Those useless mortals need a Goddess to lead them. They need me. They want me. Of course they do, look at me. I am perfection." She said staring into her own eyes, almost hypnotising herself with every word. She picked up a nearby whip and let it crack, loving the sound it made.

"They need my cruel uncaring hand to guide them, to whip them into shape. Yesssss I was made to be Goddess. Only I am worthy. Others live only to serve my desires." She said in a deeper sexier tone than she was used to.

Suddenly there was a sound from the main bedroom breaking her from her trance. Shaking her head she felt as though she was waking from a dream.

"No! What am I saying? Something is happening to me. Look at my body! I'm all tits and darkness. That bitch infected me with her evil. I need to get out of here away from any remnants of her." She said walking away from the mirror and into the bedroom to investigate the sound, where she found she wasn't alone.

Standing clad in a sleek leotard wielding two daggers as a beautiful blonde with a stern look on her face.

"Ah Lilith I see you've taken a new host. Trying to out fox me no doubt but your reign of evil ends tonight." The blonde assassin said lunging at Lisa who dodged out of the way with superhuman speed, surprising even herself.

"No wait I'm not Lilith. My name is Lisa! Her ritual thing didn't work. I'm just trying to get out of here. Please stop!" Lisa pleaded but the assassin continued her attack.

"Your tricks won't fool me witch!" The assassin said with anger and fury. Again Lisa dodged and countered with ease. Lisa could feel Lilith's power begin to coarse through her body with each dodge, as if being activated by some sort of sense of survival. The more power she gained the more she could feel the dark personality creep back in.

"Please this is just making things worse.... ugh.... for you!" Lisa said holding back the darkness and assassin at the same time.

"Dominate her! Make her kneel before you!" Her conscious was demanding, it's corruption hard to halt.

"No I won't! This is wrong!" Lisa said, pleading with her own thoughts.

"The only thing wrong is not bending her to your will! She should be serving you in the bathtub as you imagined!" Her dark consciousness said causing Lisa to reimagine the bathroom fantasy earlier with the blonde assassin in place of the male slave. She wanted to fight against the feelings but they were making her feel stronger, powerful and horny. It was intoxicating.

Finally the assassin made a last ditch lunge at Lisa who instinctively side knelt out of the way and managed to strike her with the whip. It coiled around the assassin's waist and Lisa pulled it hard, propelling the assassin to her outstretched free hand.

Lisa grabbed the assassin around the neck, lifting her with ease off of the ground. All at once Lisa felt a flood of power invade her senses. She was suddenly consuming the would-be assassins soul and she couldn't get enough. Her body orgasmed again and again as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

"Nooooooo I have to stop before it’s too laaaaaaaahhhhhhhh.” She screamed throwing her head back. She could feel all of the assassin's memories, emotions, and desires. Her name was Rita, she was part of a group hell bent on destroying Lilith. She had trained her whole life to kill the Goddess but now Lisa was turning her into a loyal follower. She loved every second of it.

“Yessssss this is my destiny." She screamed in ecstasy. "All will kneel before my beauty and tremble. Your soul is just want I needed to complete my evil transformation." Lisa laughed.

The two guards came in from outside after hearing the screaming. They stood in awe of their new Goddess. She let go of her grip on the blonde causing the assassin to drop to her knees. The blonde drained of any resistance, looked up at Lisa.

"How may I serve you Goddess." She said in a zombie like state.

"You fought well Rita and made your way pass these idiotic guards. They are of no use to me now. End them,” Lisa said with a smirk and watched as Rita dispatched the men easily within seconds. Lisa walked over to her new bodyguard with glee, taking her face in her hands.

“Having absorbed your memories I know you're a virgin Rita so I am at a bit of a crossroads. Do I save you and keep you pure so that one day you might be a suitable host for me. Or do I soil your soul and fuck you like the little slut puppet I desire? Decisions, decisions." Lisa said checking out Rita's tight and supple body.

"Mmmm it would be a shame to not taste a treat as sweet as you. Come along." Lisa said walking over towards the bathroom.

“Yes Goddess Lisa.” Rita replied causing Lisa to stop.

"Lilith is such a wonderfully wicked name, it would be a shame to not use it, wouldn't you say?" Lisa said rhetorically.

"Of course, Goddess Lilith." Rita answered back causing a pleasurable chill to run through Lisa's body.

"The Goddess is dead, long live the Goddess." She said with an evil purr and continued into the bathroom.

[galaxysupreme17]

Candlelit Blanket Fort Night

y/n = your name

AgathaRio x daughter!reader

Rain tapped against the windows, steady and soothing, as Y/n smiled to herself. She sprinted toward the linen closet, gathering blankets and a few spare pillows, her arms full as she stumbled back into the living room. This was going to be perfect.

Just as she was setting up, Rio wandered in, eyebrows raised at the blankets and chairs forming a small fortress. "What are you up to?" she asked, watching with amusement as Y/n carefully draped one blanket over the arm of a chair.

Y/n's grin widened. "Building a blanket fort! Mama and I used to do this whenever it stormed," she explained. "I was terrified of thunder, so she'd help me set up these little forts, and we'd read stories or watch movies until I fell asleep."

Rio's face softened at the thought, her usual composure giving way to something warmer, almost wistful. "I think I missed out on something truly special. Want to show me how it's done?"

Y/n nodded enthusiastically, and together. They set to work, Y/n eagerly explaining her process. "So, the trick is making sure everything's secure. We don't want it collapsing in the middle of the night," she said, adjusting a blanket corner over a chair. She pulled in another chair, angling it carefully to support the fort's shape, while Rio held down one edge to ensure it stayed put.

"Good thinking," Rio murmured, a small smile playing on her lips as she held the blankets in place. "It's like you've done this a thousand times."

"I kinda have," Y/n chuckled. "Mama was the expert, though. She always knew just how to make it feel cozy. Oh! We need the lights." She grabbed a string of fairy lights from a drawer, winding them carefully through the edges of the blanket fort, the tiny bulbs casting a soft glow over the makeshift space.

Rio examined their handiwork with approval. "It's... magical," she said, sounding almost surprised. She ducked into the fort and settled onto a pile of pillows, patting the space beside her. Y/n followed, curling beside her mom as they basked in the gentle light.

As the rain pattered against the roof, Y/n shifted, glancing at Rio. "Did you and Mama ever do this sort of thing?"

Rio looked thoughtful, the faintest hint of nostalgia crossing her face. "Well... in a way," she admitted. "Back in Salem, we didn't have fairy lights or movies. But we'd gather candles and tuck ourselves into a corner of our cabin. The fort was more like a lean-to—just old quilts and worn blankets. But it felt like our little world, where we could escape from everything."

Y/n's eyes widened, picturing the scene. "You and Mama in the middle of Salem, hiding away with candles. That's amazing." She leaned her head against Rio's shoulder, letting out a contented sigh. "I wish I could've seen it."

Rio wrapped an arm around her daughter, holding her close. "In a way, you're seeing it now. It's different, but that same kind of magic is here—with you."

They sat in companionable silence, the sounds of rain and their gentle breathing filling the fort. They shared stories, laughed, and eventually just lay back, basking in the warmth and peace. After a while, Y/n's eyes began to grow heavy, and she shifted, nestling into Rio's shoulder. Rio brushed a hand over Y/n's hair, her gaze softening as she took in her daughter's peaceful expression. Y/n was fast asleep in a few minutes, the rain acting as her lullaby.

Hours later, Agatha stepped quietly into the house, soaked from her magic retreat and still carrying the crispness of the night air with her. She noticed the dim glow from the living room, curiosity drawing her closer. What she saw stopped her in her tracks: the blanket fort, softly lit by fairy lights, and inside, Rio and Y/n curled up together, fast asleep.

Agatha stood there for a moment, drinking in the scene, her heart swelling. She had shared countless blanket fort nights with Y/n, but to see Rio here now, sharing this tradition filled her with a joy she hadn't expected. It felt like her past and present had finally come together, forming something whole.

She stepped closer, carefully tucking a stray blanket corner around them to keep them warm. She noticed how Y/n's hand rested on Rio's arm as if seeking comfort even in her sleep, and Agatha's chest tightened with love. She gently brushed a few strands of hair away from Y/n's face, her fingers lingering momentarily, tracing the familiar contours of her daughter's peaceful expression.

Rio stirred slightly, her eyes opening briefly. She met Agatha's gaze, her expression soft and warm. They exchanged a silent smile, sharing a moment of understanding. Rio's hand gently closed over Y/n's, and she settled back down, her eyes fluttering shut again.

Agatha straightened, feeling her heart nearly burst with gratitude. She quietly stepped back, leaving them as they were, cocooned in their own world. She slipped down the hall, her footsteps light as she retreated to her room. She couldn't wait to hear every detail of their night together and share in the happiness they had found.

In her bed, Agatha lay awake a while longer, a smile still lingering on her lips. The rain continued to fall, and the house felt warmer, filled with the love of the family they had worked so hard to rebuild.

[ghcstao3]

marine biologist au :)

-

Soap almost misses the call from Price one unsuspecting three AM, but he wakes up in the nick of time.

He barely has his eyes open to press answer, squinting into darkness as he mumbles out some greeting before waiting to learn why in the world Price is calling him at this time.

“They’ve finally hatched,” Price tells him. And before the cogs in Soap’s head can start turning, Price clarifies, “The turtles, Soap. They’re finally out. Get your arse out here.”

It’s such an announcement that kicks Soap’s brain into a hard reboot, and suddenly he’s flying out of bed and running for his car keys, barely caring that he’s still in his pyjamas as he speeds down the road at this godawful hour. He doesn’t remember when Price or he had hung up, just knows he needs to get to the beach, and now.

The team had had their eyes on a particular bale of sea turtles since they’d laid their eggs, and had waited for so long for the hatching with continuous efforts to make sure all would go perfectly undisturbed. He couldn’t afford to miss this.

And it seems, arriving to the spot, that other scientists had a similar idea. That, or Price had called them, too.

Soap finds the man with just a bit of difficulty between the silhouettes of the small group standing a ways from little black specks crawling through the sand. He claps Price on the shoulder, whispering his excitement as his eyes adjust to the bright moonlight.

“Incredible,” Soap murmurs. He hasn’t felt wonder like this in ages, even if this isn’t the first time he’s witnessed such an event.

There’s just something so special about it.

“I’ll say,” Price whispers back, that same wistfulness.

Except… it’s not Price. Still tall and wide shoulders and rough voice, but… decidedly not Price.

Soap nearly jumps back, recoiling when he realizes he’s been hanging off a stranger’s shoulder in lieu of an old colleague’s. The stranger seems to realize the mistake without ever taking his eyes off the baby turtles, laughing quietly under his breath.

“I’m so sorry,” Soap says. “I thought—“

“Thought I was someone else?” The stranger replies, not unkindly. He angles his head just enough for Soap to catch the outline of his face in the silver glow of moonlight. “I think I can forgive you. We’re all half-asleep, anyway.”

Soap can feel a blush raging across his face, thankful for the cover of night to hide its tint. Even so, he ducks his head as the stranger goes back to watching the hatchlings. Soap takes the opportunity to do the same, though putting some distance between himself and the man, this time.

Eventually, though, their shared silence feels like too much with the hushed chattering of others surrounding them. Soap taps the man lightly on the shoulder and says, “My name’s John.”

“Simon,” Soap is told.

The quiet feels more comfortable, after that. And as time goes on and more and turtles make it out to sea, the other voices seem to die down as well.

It’s not until everyone is certain all of the hatchlings have made it that the group of scientists begin talking again, still quiet, but now above a whisper. Simon finally fully turns to face Soap, who thinks he may be experiencing his second bought of wonder that night, seeing Simon’s face in the dim light.

“It was nice meeting you.” Soap smiles softly up at Simon. “Do you think we’ll see each other again?”

Simon nods, shoving his hands in his pockets. Once glance tells Soap that he’d been rudely awakened as well, and somehow he finds comfort in it.

“I’m sure we will,” Simon says. “Especially since Price is in both our circles. You should probably go find him, by the way. Since—“

Soap groans, burying his face in his hands. “Please don’t remind me. I’m sorry again.”

Soap peeks through his fingers just as Simon grins at him, something almost bashful. “Don’t be. I liked your company. Have a good night, Johnny.”

Johnny.

Soap’s ears burn as Simon walks away. He sort of wishes a crater would open up in the sand and swallow him whole.

He should go find Price.

But… in a moment. Soap can reminisce on his brief encounter with Simon for just a few seconds longer.

[paragonrobits]

in terms of calvin and hobbes' characterization, there's a LOT to unpack and to explore; how Calvin's musings have an entertaining friction with Hobbes' much more down to earth mentality, the way their respective characters conflict and yet vibe so well together as contrasts and foils, Hobbes getting out of the way as Calvin literally runs into his own philosphical consequences, but while Hobbes is my favorite of the two, I think the most revealing and my personal favorite Calvin moment is the Dead Bird Strip:

Calvin is generally characterized as a mischevious young boy; a kid of his age during the time this was written would USUALLY be written as being sort of casually cruel in an innocent way. not meaning to be cruel, but not yet really getting the impact of his own actions. We might expect him to go 'ew, gross! that's COOL!' or poke at it

but no. his immediate reaction to seeing a dead animal is to mourn it.

His first thought afterwards is to realize how beautiful it is, how delicate... and how tragic the inevitability of death is.

that we kind of CAN'T think about the inevitable. How fragile everything is, that the world itself is cruel and unforgiving, and there's not really anything you can do about it. The mind can't deal with it.

So people become cruel, or at least thoughtless.

It leaves off on Calvin musing that it will make sense when they grow up, which I feel is something that's meant to punch adult readers in the face. More so, if you're like me and were a young child reading this.

It didn't make sense then. It probably doesn't now. It's just something you must live with.

And the strip ends as they silently look up and observe the flight of unfallen birds.

There's a strong melancholy element to Calvin And Hobbes' more somber moments; a wistful awareness of the fragility of life. It's there in moments like them unable to do anything about suburban homes destroying the woods near their home, or Calvin struggling to come to terms with the sudden and unavoidable death of a baby raccoon he tried to help.

It's one reason the strip has survived so long in the hearts and minds of people. nearly 20 years after the final strip was published, it still feels so earnest, real and genuine. It's moments like this; there's no relief gag, no hidden humor, nothing to defuse the tension of this sort of moment. They just have to live with what they can't ignore.

And I think, from a characterization angle, the fact that Calvin's immediate response to finding a dead animal was to mourn the cruelty of an indifferent universe and the beautiful fragility of life, is quite possibly his most fundamental characteristic.

[zmwrites]

WIP: Open Seas

Pairing: Tess x Dorian

Words: 744

Not canon bc these two don’t get their shit together until the absolute last possible moment BUT they do end up this situation at one point.

Tess rearranged the blankets that had been stashed in the rowboat so they covered Dorian more completely. She could handle a cold; he was already fighting a gunshot wound and the associated blood loss.

“Don’t have to do that,” Dorian said. He still sounded weak, but better than he had when the mermaids had first dragged him from the water. His limbs splayed awkwardly across the bottom boards as he tried to leave her space and be comfortable at the same time.

“Of course I do,” she replied. “What kind of friend would I be if I fished you out of the ocean only to let you freeze to death because I didn’t want to share the blankets? Idalah would kill me.”

He huffed a laugh and they lapsed into silence again. They sat shoulder to shoulder with their backs against one of the benches, sharing body heat to keep from freezing in their damp clothes. Above them, thousands of stars stretched from one horizon to the other, and the twin moons shone brightly over the calm ocean.

It was a strange comfort, having Dorian with her. If she’d been alone with nothing to fret over but her own fate, she surely would’ve been lost to hysteria. He and his gunshot wound gave her something else to worry about, something to keep her focused, a task—keeping him alive—that no one else could accomplish given their situation.

“Do you think we would’ve been friends if we’d met under different circumstances?” he asked.

“Depends on the circumstances,” Tess replied lightly. “If Captain Dorian Hale the fearsome pirate had kidnapped me off a ship and held me for ransom, I doubt we would’ve been friends.”

“And if Tess Bowen, heiress and socialite, had stumbled upon a petty criminal in the streets of Ayrith? You wouldn’t have given me a second glance out of your carriage window.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “It’s a good thing we met how we did, then, as I’ve rather enjoyed our time together.”

“Me too.” His words were quiet, but there was something… sad, almost, in his tone. Wistful.

She took his hand under the blankets and scooted closer. “Even if it did end up here: floating in the middle of the ocean with no food, no drinking water, and no oars.”

“Maybe the mermaids will bring us some fish,” Dorian said dryly.

She stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge if he was being serious, then gave in to the urge to laugh. What else was there to do—nothing in her life had prepared her for a moment like this. If the version of her who had arrived at Ayrith for the start of the social season could see her now, she would’ve been horrified by the impropriety of it all.

“Tess?”

“Mm?”

“Would you be upset if I kissed you?”

She tilted her head thoughtfully. “You’re injured, you’ve lost a lot of blood, and there’s a real possibility that we die of exposure before we reach any sort of help. I don’t think anyone would begrudge you a rash decision.”

“That was a lot of words and none of them were yes or no.”

“No, I wouldn’t be upset,” she said with a smile. None of her suitors back home would have bothered asking.

He leaned towards her and pressed his forehead to hers. His warm breath whispered across her skin but he didn’t draw any closer. His brow furrowed, and she could feel him shaking his head almost imperceptibly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“It would ruin you.”

She wanted to laugh again. The social rules of reputation and respectability seemed absurd after dodging cannonfire and befriending mermaids. “Is that all?”

Dorian managed to look affronted for half a second before she raised her free hand to his jaw and pressed her lips to his. He was deliciously warm, if salty from his time in the ocean, and she angled her body so she could get closer without putting pressure on his injury.

Their boat jolted into motion, startling them apart. Tess pushed herself up so she could see the water around them—the mermaid pod had returned, and were pushing their boat at a far faster speed than they would’ve been able to achieve themselves.

She settled back in next to her pirate and curled into his side. “Always someone to interrupt, even when we’re the only humans for miles.”

He snorted, then wove their fingers together.

[ilikereadingactually]

Dry Land

Dry Land by B. Pladek

i'm writing this review on a rainy day, looking out the window at trees that are just starting to bud, which feels like the right mood to invoke while thinking about this book. it has a wistful and melancholy sort of quality that is catnip to me!

this is a quiet book, i think, which is quite a feat for a story set during WWI, and it's combining elements in ways that are interesting to me! there's the history piece, which we're seeing from the perspective of Rand, working in the Forest Service and then drafted into the war. there's his ability to make plants grow, which feels magical but is studied and understood (by Rand and by others) through a science lens. there's his relationships--with his younger sister Greta, with his former-crush-now-best-friend Jonna, with his lover Gabriel--and the ways in which all of those relationships are strained and stretched by Rand's single-mindedness and tendency toward self-sacrifice.

and there's nature. wilderness, or less-than-wilderness; dreamy narratives of plants and trees and the creatures living among them; Rand's intense focus on ecology and understanding his power through it, using his power to restore and improve it. this book poses interesting questions about what the ideal state of nature actually is, how wild it should be, and how to understand the complicated web that makes up an ecosystem. not just the living things, but time, and change, and human interference. it actually reminded me a little bit of The Mushroom at the End of the World by Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing, which i reviewed briefly at the start of this blog.

all in all, the story of someone who's a little too inside himself and his own perspective, who places too little value on his own life and has to learn better, really resonated for me. and listen, i have a real weakness for lists of plants with beautiful names, okay?

the deets

how i read it: a physical copy for once! it's a really nice cover, and it was lovely to sit in bed and have the book in my hands to read.

try this if you: have feelings about ecology and conservation, dig a book with just one speculative element, love watching a character hit bottom and climb back out, or find a sideways/distant angle on WWI appealing

maybe not for you if: you need to avoid suicide and suicidal ideation. it's not graphic, but it is a major plot point and happens on the page.

some bits i really liked: so much beautiful prose!

"For the flies," he said. Better wards existed, but Rand had not been able to bring himself to snap the few white pine saplings he'd seen for their juice. All new growth seemed more sacred now, since his secret. "Thanks," said Gabriel, nose wrinkling as Rand held out the cup of fat. More fastidious than the rest of the team, he always rubbed it in like aftershave, almost too thorough to be effective. One night, flushed and stupid, Rand had joked he liked him smelling of bacon. Gabriel had barked with laughter.

---

As he watched, at the tips of his fingers two green nubs pushed up. Their buds opened like white stars. Trembling, Rand shifted his hands to the bole's far side. Touching the soil again, he drew up another trillium, then another, pausing between each to touch their leaves, stems, sepals.

---

Shaking, he dipped his gift like a pen into his thudding heartbeat. He drew, filling it. Then he reached back deep into the marsh.

[carewyncromwell]

25. Feeding each other food for Ru and Estrid 😊

25. Feeding each other food (Rustrid)

featuring Estrid Soelberg @thatravenpuffwitch, Galen Stagg @cursebreakerfarrier and Siobhan Llewelyn @kc-and-co💛

If one were to ask a magizoologist what best to feed a kelpie, most would answer that they're omnivores that will eat just about anything, but are very fond of fish, which is one of the two main things they hunt (the other being humans, which obviously is not a good idea to feed any kelpie you plan on domesticating).

If you were to have consulted Galen Stagg in the later years of his life, however, he would probably have smiled fully and immediately suggest apples. And the reason for the wistful, amused grin on his face would be the memory of his good friend Ru stealing apple pie right off of Estrid's fork one day at dinner one night.

"Ru!" Estrid said, startled. "That's mine."

Ru smirked.

"Didn't see your name on it," they said through the big mouthful of food.

"It was bound to happen, with you leaving it out there on your fork like that, Estrid," Siobhan said amusedly.

Galen gave a quiet laugh despite himself. "Hungry animals always pilfer food, when you get distracted."

"I was trying to listen to what you were saying," Estrid huffed.

She tried to scowl, but it was a bit hard, given how big her smile was. Ru was grinning more fully than ever as they lounged across the bench next to Estrid, their arm flopping down on the table as they propped their head up on their hand. They smacked their lips in a rather loud, uncouth kind of way.

"Mm...this is good," Ru said with interest. "Is that apple?"

"Yes," said Estrid.

"Have you never had apple pie before, Ru?" said Siobhan, surprised.

Ru's electric blue eyes flitted up to Siobhan quickly. Estrid could practically feel the pause they took before responding.

"...Well, the folks don't exactly bake a lot," they said gruffly. "Don't really spoil us much either, aside from stuffy dress robes and uncomfortable shoes."

Estrid knew this was a lie of sorts, given the real reason Ru had never had apple pie would've been because apple pie isn't something you can hunt inside or around the Black Lake...but, at the same time, it probably wasn't a complete lie, all the same. The Ollivanders had always been a rather distant and formal to the point of neglect sort of family, and they'd never really paid their youngest child much mind, either before or after Ru took the real Rudolph's place.

Galen smiled. "Well, this pie is a very good one. The elves really have outdone themselves with it."

Ru eyed the remainder of the piece of pie on Estrid's plate with interest. "Hm, yeah..."

Within a moment, they'd reached into their robes and pulled their box camera out of the inside pocket. They then immediately brought up in front of their right eye, peeking through it at Estrid's plate with single-minded focus.

"Ru," Estrid couldn't help but sigh even as her smile grew wider still, "are you seriously taking a picture of my pie?"

"It's a pie worth remembering," Ru said haughtily.

They frowned deeply as they set about trying to find the right angle, craning their neck and moving from the bench to down to the floor and back.

"Bloody lighting," they muttered more irritably. "If only the ceiling wasn't overcast -- some sun would do these shadows some good..."

They were so focused on what they were doing that they didn't even notice the fork right beside their mouth until Estrid lightly tapped their cheek with it. Ru opened their left eye and was startled to see another piece of apple pie skewered on the end of it and Estrid smiling fully.

"Galen thinks you should be eating dinner, not playing with it," she said airily.

She glanced significantly at Galen, who blushed a rosy pink as he brought his hand away from the apple pie tin that he'd slid across the table to sit in front of Ru. Siobhan was laughing.

Ru cocked their eyebrows very coolly at Estrid. Then, very slowly and pointedly, and while keeping eye contact with her the entire time, the kelpie leaned in and brought the fork into their mouth, sliding the pie off the prongs into their mouth and eating it. Once they'd swallowed the pie, they smacked their lips, smirking fully.

"...I can multitask," Ru said just as coolly in return.

Finally, breaking eye contact with Estrid at last, they then whipped back around to look through their camera at her pie. Estrid bowed her head, unable to bite back a laugh herself.

"So am I just not going to get my pie back?" she asked amusedly.

"Not until I'm happy with the shot," Ru shot back mischievously. After a moment, they added, "I'll, uh...take another piece, though -- if you and Galen are really so determined to make me eat while I work."

Estrid shook her head, but she smiled all the same as she cut Ru another piece of pie, skewered it with her fork, and offered it to them. Only once Ru had found a good resting position for their camera so that it wouldn't move when they looked up did they shift over enough to once again nip it off Estrid's fork and eat it, licking and smacking their lips happily, before looking back through the viewfinder.

"You do realize everyone's going to think you two are going steady all the more, after this," Siobhan teased them.

"Shut it," both Ru and Estrid said dully.

Relationship Prompts!

[semixfenz]

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[ultraericthered]

Anime Update V3 15

From Me To You - Now everyone in school believes that Sawako's smile is a blessing of good fortune, sort of like Taiga that one time in Toradora. Sawako is now close enough to her new friends to call them all by their first names, except she's unable to do the same for Kazehaya. Pin forces Kazehaya to be a committee member for the upcoming sports festival, and we're more properly introduced to Ume Kurumizawa, his territorial and possessive middle school friend we'd been seeing for the past few episodes. Shit's about to go down.

Hunter x Hunter - Shoot and Knuckle are still fighting Youppi.

SHUFFLE! - That's what that was all about? Sia has Dissociative Identity Disorder and could take on the personality of her stillborn twin sister, Kikyou? This certainly added a whole new layer to what I'd been seeing and made the fallout of Sia and Rin's deranged date all the more interesting, but if I had a complaint it'd be that it seems just a little redundant of what we just did with Nerine and Lycoris. The whole "absorbing her memories and essence" (while in the womb) angle was unnecessary - I'd much rather it be left ambiguous if the Kikyou persona really WAS her or just another personality of Sia she formed based on the idea of what her sister would've been like.

The Case Files of Lord El-Melloi II - Waver actually got to meet with his old abusive mentor Kayneth in a dream, but it seemed good for finally getting him back up. Hephaestion and Gray took shelter from the raging snowstorm together and seemed to make a closer connection before Hephaestion parted ways with Gray. Adashino then gathereds all of the guests and accuses Karabo of being the one who murdered Trisha. Waver intervened and contested her theory, but Rail Zeppelin comes out in support of her and forcibly removes Karabo's Mystic Eyes for the auction per their agreement.

KonoSuba - Of course Vanir is immediately revealed to be alive due to one of his extra lives, now disbarred from the Devil King's army and working with Wiz at her store. He sells Kazuma a kotatsu that he refuses to come out from and harasses Darkness and Megumin when they try to get him out, but then like a Family Guy episode this stops being the focus and it instead becomes about the party fighting a bunch of lizard monsters and Kazuma dying and meeting with Eris once again as he begins to grow feelings for the friendly goddess.

K-On! - Yui got so busy practicing on her new guitar that she ended up not studying for her midterms exam and flunked it big time. So she must pass the makeup exam or else she will be barred from club activies, including being part of the Light Music Club band. All the ways her friends had to help her keep focus on her studies were amusing to watch, as is their continued interplay with each other and the comedic antics and reactions of Ritsu in particular. We also got to meet Ui, Yui's younger sister who's actually more mature and put together than her big sister is. In the end Yui just barely managed to ace the makeup exam, so the band doesn't have to have a break up!

Eureka Seven - Eureka finally told the whole story of her time with Adroc Thurston and how he gave up his life to protect her and the Scub Coral, to keep in-tact the planet that Dewey now seeks to eviscerate for the sake of reshaping the world of humans in his totalitarian image. And speaking of, he pulls a coup on the Council of Sages, with the councilwoman surrendering control to him after he's killed the other two, meaning Dewey is now the ruler of the world!

Air - Kano is revealed to possess strange magic powers, which briefly changed the surroundings of Yukito and Misuzu. Yukito later listens in on a really strange, uncomfortable conversation that Kano's older sister is having, but not much is made of it. Then at one point, Potato goes missing and has to be searched for by Yukito, Miszusu, and Kano all together. We get more cuteness and innocent wistfulness from Miszusu, and of course we had to get at least one scene with Michiru in there (though I really think that if this show had been dubbed later, they'd totally have cast David Matranga and Hilary Haag as Yukito and Michiru rather than Vic Mignogna and Serena Varghese - they just have THAT sort of dynamic going on.) Then we end on yet another, stranger and more disturbing Kano moment! Yikes! What the actual fuck is going on with this girl?

[pall0r-mortis]

The world was too big to Sid, and some part of him did find that embarrassing in a way; it shouldn't have been because he was the sort of person that shouldn't have had limits. Wasn't that the biggest appeal to the coven? When a person had a community that allowed those that excelled to go as far as they wanted it should have meant there wasn't anything stopping a person. But there are a lot of things stopping Sid, and the most resounding one he didn't want to admit had absolutely nothing to do with magic and everything to do with a wistful sort of feeling that he refused to acknowledge that had mostly grown stale and stopped feeling real a long time ago.

There was a nostalgia to thinking about home; the tarnish on the memories was his family but the place itself? Sid loved the Isles, but it always been where he thought he would never leave.

"I mean you don't even have a proper market here, and people probably would argue that Bonesborough looks like some Gothic medieval town but have you seen this place," Sid offered a vague gesture around to the neighborhood itself, "other than a few houses that actually have some personality it's bland. Doesn't that feel suffocating?" A surprisingly honest question rather than an accusation, because that was one thing that he could not understand; why would people want to live surrounded by so much stark conformity in the copy and paste versions of manicure yards and houses.

Maybe it was a different sort of comfort in the normality that did not seem normal to him and it was puzzling, that much managed to slip into his tone.

"I'm not actually trying to be an asshole here, not about this specific topic anyway," Sid clarified, "I just don't get it; I don't understand how people don't feel buried under that false sense of normality. But I'm probably overthinking, probably just-" he trailed off, then shook his head. He didn't like to talk to people too much because then he would actually start talking to them. And some very ugly place in the back of his mind reminded him that James saw him just as much as the weird neighbor as everyone else in that place did. "Anyway, the Boiling Isles it's hard to describe, that was my point," he shrugged, even though for a moment James' interest had snared him and Sid had almost let himself talk about home like he knew it.

Sid uttered a curse under his breath, because that was an unexpected lapse he hadn't intended. He was saying something stupid, that's how it always seemed to go. Those pinprick sensations of irritation crept back up his spine but he didn't really know what angle to take to start an argument that time to divert his thoughts because James was asking questions that tripped him up.

"Well, life does tend to be the one thing that nobody survives, despite their intentions otherwise," Sid mumbled, tasting the bitterness in his own words, because he didn't want to answer the question. He also did want to though. Sometimes the pressure behind his eyes and his chest that built from that thought felt like it was going to crack through his skull, his ribs, felt like that was what was going to undo him faster than anything else.

But he didn't, he tossed some non-answer James' direction and tried to steer aside the conversation instead, squaring his shoulders again.

"That is a delightfully morbid topic for a date there, Princess; I do realize I brought it up but you latched onto that one pretty quick." It was just a little trouble, sure, but there was an underlying curiosity there as well.

@captainjamesjoneshook

@pall0r-mortis

James snorted upon hearing giant corpse. He knew, from reading about the place and seeing things online, that Sid wasn't just saying that as some weird metaphor (like one might for Paris) but that he was being literal. It was just that things like that never could get old to him.

He who had lived in Swynlake all his life, who had only ever gone on the occasional trip outside of the country for school or when his dads thought a holiday in order, enjoyed the novelty of the unknown. The world was so big and vast and filled to the brim with things he could hardly dream of, since even Swynlake was better at that than him. He had managed to get a taste of the freedom he had so been looking forward to aboard the Jolly Roger, before it all turned to shit.

So he absorbed the new information about the Boiling Isles almost greedily. He hadn't gone on that Spring Break trip, seeing as his father wouldn't have allowed it. Sending his kid off to a magic hot spot in the world? Pah! Absurd! And he also just happened to be taking in information about Sid, too, since he was describing it through his own experiences.

Which made, and I'm still on this side of living feel like a rock had been thrown into the side of his head, making a ping! ricochet around his skull.

Not exactly something one should say to a Medium, seeing as even if he weren't and decided to stay top side, James would be able to still get that tour anyway.

"What? You planning on dying sometime soon, then?" he couldn't help but to ask. Because maybe he was sticking his foot in his mouth here and Sid would reveal that he had some sort of disease or curse that had a timer ticking down on him.

[snack-o-ween]

[This is being scheduled in January 2023.]

Title: Beyond The Veil

Co-Author: Adreamermusing. Transformative Works Policy: Not known as of this posting.

Co-Author: ashesashesshackles. Transformative Works Policy: Not known as of this posting.

Complete or In Progress: This fic is a work in progress. Dated: This started to post in May of 2021, and the current chapter [as of scheduling this post] was posted in December 2022.

Chapters: Currently 17. Word Count: Currently 76,748.

This currently comes across as much more of a Second War AU from the divergence point of Sirius not going to the Ministry at the end of Book 5 than what I'd consider a relationship focused fic. There's plenty of scenes in other characters' points of view, there's some in-scene death and murder, and Sirius/Severus just doesn't feel like the only thing happening. I don't say this as a drawback or anything, and I'd actually say that's part of why I'm recommending it. Example from Chapter 16, in a Draco point of view scene:

You’d think that a school that focuses so much on Defence Against Dark Arts as a subject would have books on how to get rid of Accidentally Acquired evil objects.

When it comes to the Sirius/Severus ship, there's pretty standard hate that gets some Unresolved Tension, and then, there's sort of a realisation that this is sexual tension. Sexual intimacy leads to a degree of panic, in part, because Severus still associates Sirius' touch with danger or a fight. It may not sound very compelling here, but I like that the hate's still there and Severus nips this in the bud before he has to kill Albus.

Excerpt from Severus making up his mind to end things, at the end of Ch 11:

But he had undergone worse losses than this for the cause, and he was sure Black would happily be relieved that he hadn’t done anything more than he had with disgusting old Snivellus. It was for the best, he decided, firmly ignoring the pit of dread in his stomach.

“Sirius,” he whispered to himself, committing to memory the way his name felt on his tongue, like the incantation of a forbidden spell. It was alright here, in the shabbiness of his Muggle house, far away from where anybody could see, to say the name for the last time.

Severus decides to tell Sirius about his end of the First War switch and how he had more of a role in Lily's death than most Order members know, and while some of his confidence that Sirius won't want anything to do with him is self-loathing and not thinking he'll survive long enough for this to matter, Sirius does back off and outright says that he doesn't want to pursue or act on his feelings at least once. I know it's not permanent, but there's still something very satisfying about this. Just having feelings or attraction doesn't magically fix things, you know?

To me, the progression of their relationship lies more in the working together portion to look into horcruxes where Sirius and Severus build a certain amount of trust than any sort of culturally-Romantic gestures. (While I don't mind Hate to Love arcs that feature hate sex, this doesn't fall under the 'x number of sex scenes until we caught feelings' angle I've seen in some other fics.) I wouldn't say that the two hurt/comfort scenes are the big, definitive moments of realisation for Sirius and Severus, but they're not exactly nothing.

Excerpt from the first hurt/comfort scene, in Ch 11:

Snape pointed his wand at Sirius and began the incantation. It was a song, Sirius realised, astonished. It sounded like a lullaby, soothing and wistful and pure, but with the heaviness of a prayer. Sirius watched as the spell spooled out of Snape’s wand--golden, gossamer strings of magic dancing in the air, spinning and weaving a mesmerising tapestry of pure healing.

Sirius immediately felt a childlike sense of sleepiness overcome him, and he resisted the urge to close his eyes. The wound on his shoulder was knitting together and closing. The shining, golden strings were swaying in the air to Snape’s lilting voice, reminding Sirius of an old wizarding tale of fairies dancing their way down to the Earth on a moonbeam in the night.

(It's also a nice touch of world building for Severus creating things.)

The authors have indicated in the end notes that there's three chapters left, so it is possible that some of these impressions of when things shift for Sirius and Severus aren't set in stone. In hindsight, these hurt/comfort scenes might carry more importance, or there might be post-Second War scenes that sort of undo the resistance to admitting anything internally, for example. I suppose it'll depend on exactly how canon divergent the ending of the war will be.

[The only thing that's a bit :|  is that I was skimming through the comments and saw someone post that this is the only good Sirius/Severus fic they'd ever read. ...Really? It seems like such a back-handed compliment, and I definitely find those kinds of comments irritating. (Like, I understand that there are people who won't be interested in any of my Sirius/Severus content at all, but also... That's the main ship. How did that commenter even find this then?)]

[sunboki]

one of my blurbs going out to han and his masterpieces.

*if you don’t notice, I have each of his songs from SKZ-REPLAY mentioned here. They’re italicized.

Han blankly stares outside the window of the train, hills rolling into an endless abyss of shadows. Meanwhile, you’re comfortably snuggled against his hoodied-shoulder—the cozy yellow fabric he’d borrowed from Changbin’s closet enough to lull you to a peaceful slumber. Plus, Jisung’s scent had now replaced the once Changbin inhabited smell. Dreamland was nice this way.

Peering curiously over his shoulder, you manage to block out enough writing to realize he’s indeed jotting down lyrics. Very Han-like.

“You’re writing a song?” Your voice sounds sleepy, sleepier than you anticipated but evidence of your napping session. Thankfully the run of the train’s wheels numb the strange sensation.

“Mhm. I got it, an inspiration. I like this moment, ‘wanted to write about it.” Jisung gazes down at you, round and emotion filled brown eyes gentle. He’s having a moment again. Where he drinks in everything he gets to experience with you, drinking the sweet taste of the candied fruit to its fullest.

“Don’t look at me like that, it makes me feel like I’m dying.” You complain, although it’s more of a plea. Hoping to erase the wistful expression off his face. Looking at you like you’re the only person in the world.

He only smiles, dipping down to capture your lips together kindly. Endlessly close. There’s a sort of lilt to this kiss, nearly desperate but not voicing it.

The pen inked on a page of that lined leather notebook he carries along with him display all the thoughts coddled in those big brown eyes. And sometimes, you wish he wouldn’t reveal them to you.

It’s almost too much, too much words with too little time. You want to be with Jisung forever and he does as well, but as you whined before; it makes you feel like you’re dying.

“I love all of you y’know. Han Jisung.” The quokka groans at this, bashful to be called his full name. He then gathers your dazed form in his arms, head now propped on the top of yours—allowing you to watch him compose whilst snuggled against him.

There’s a silence filling your section of the train. Comfortable. A sharp wisp of his hand alerts you, brows knitting. The dot he places at the last word tells you he’s finished, glancing up to meet his eyes once more.

Oh, how pretty Han Jisung is. Mochi cheeks and honeyed orbs that seem to glow at the right angle. Not to mention his lips, undeniably kissable. Han is surely alluring.

“This is dedicated to you. So I won’t have to wish you back. Keep your love in my lyrics. I get why I’m here on this earth. Meant to find you, meant to love you. All of you, just like you love all of me.”

You remember that. That time Han became scared of losing you, scared of losing his purpose. Hidden in the lyrics of one of his pieces, HaPpY. Although now, things are different. He knows.

Saccharine sweet.

“‘Not an alien?”

He laughs.

“Not an alien.”

[jacqui-velazquez]

Jacqui's head bobbed into a nod at Parker's uttered refusal, a hint of relief washing over them, eyes closing briefly as the redhead kept her back to them. It was relief, the reaction to her not pushing or trying to dig. Relief that she didn't have to betray someone's confidence, even if it was someone who deserved it. Though there, deep, only visible if Jacqui really peered inside, was a wistful desire to have someone to talk to about it. The intimacy of knowing someone and being known, of some sort of connection to someone who cared what those secrets were doing to her.

But that was shoved away, because it was bitter and unfair and Jacqui knew if they let it all out, it would only hurt Parker and Jesse, and the last thing they wanted was to be the cause of that. Their face had smoothed over, eyes watching Parker carefully as the older girl turned back around, the annoyance in the offered words belying the sincerity she attempted to put into her gaze. Dark eyes stayed on Parker, Jacqui's expression inscrutable as they debated while Parker approached, before belatedly - reluctantly - shaking their head.

"It's nothing," Jacqui said, hand pressing against her diaphragm, fingers toying with the cutouts of the mesh outfit she had on, offering Parker a small smile. "I honestly don't even know what they were trying to get me to say," they continued, the lie easily slipping off their tongue, though their eyes swept downwards towards their feet as Jacqui dragged an inhale in. It wasn't completely false - they weren't sure what G had wanted them to spill to Parker.

Unfortunately, there were several possibilities.

The next question seemed so out of left field that Jacqui's eyes shot back up towards Parker immediately, her head angling towards one of her shoulders, a furrow appearing between slanted brows before they gave one short shake of their head, their loose waves brushing against the small of their back with the abruptness of it. "No." The denial only registered as potentially rude a moment later, Jacqui unsure of what Parker's intention was with asking, though they had of course noticed her with an armful of roses at that party. More than anyone else. It made sense that someone popular on that level could assume that most had sent them a rose. "Sorry. I, like, only sent out a handful," they said, lying for the second time in as many minutes. It's not that it was unusual for them to not be honest, but Jacqui was a master of bending the truth to work how they needed it to. To lie so outright wasn't their norm.

the fact that jacqui didn't, too, pull up her texts from g nor tell parker what they said wasn't lost on her. neither did the way that their eyes couldn't quite meet hers for some long, long seconds. what'd settled in her stomach hours earlier as agitation and anger at being toyed with now began to switch out for confusion and self-consciousness... and, still, some lingering agitation. though, it hadn't shifted from g to jacqui, despite their decision to, apparently, keep their cards close to their chest. it wasn't jacqui's fault they were in this position. it wasn't jacqui's fault she shared a secret—secrets—with jesse that, evidently, he hadn't opened up to her about.

unless— well, unless there was more to that night he hadn't come home, back to their dorm, than he'd divulged. that involved jacqui in a deeper way. unless, they'd met up and they—

parker blinked the thought away, gaze shifting to the aquatic center's slick ground in one small, swift tilt of her chin. her mind ping-ponged between her initial instinct, which was no, of course not, and the purely human tendency to fear for the worst. it wasn't any one individual's fault when their thoughts inevitably ebbed toward dark, murky waters. it was self-preservation. natural. when you went swimming in the ocean, you knew that there was a practically nonexistent chance of getting gnawed by a shark, but for a brief moment you still worried. wondered.

jacqui—cool, effortless, magnetic, talented, seemingly fearless, mermaid hair and piercing, but not insulting gaze; so many things she'd never be, let alone near—spoke and parker did her best to listen, to attune to the frequency she was coming from, but her mind couldn't escape a layer of static. a high pitched dog whistle.

when their interpretation of the texts—those said and not said—landed, she turned over her shoulder and took a few steps back. it wasn't a question of whether or not she wanted to know. of course, she did. but, both hands rising to push her hair away from her face, she had to debate whether it was right. if she deserved secondhand revelations, if jacqui deserved to be put in a position where they had to give them.

"no." parker shook her head a couple times, one hand resting at the top of her forehead in minor exasperation. she stayed there, back facing the other, for a couple more seconds before turning back around. her arm met her side with a small thud. "i mean—" she briefly squeezed her eyes shut. when they opened, parker was sure. on edge, generally annoyed, but sure. "if there's anything you want to tell me," she began, offering jacqui eyes full of sincerity and assurance, "for whatever reason—to maybe prevent g's wrath or because you just think i should know, then i'll listen." she gently approached again, though sure to leave a couple feet's distance between them. the pool area already felt so stifling. had it always made her feel so claustrophobic? "but if you don't, then don't. you shouldn't have to."

maybe this was g's plan, after all. perhaps she didn't expect jacqui to reveal anything, banking on parker just knowing they shared secrets she wasn't privy to being a knife enough. for a moment she considered waiting for their response—then, for a moment, she did wait. but in that still slice of time something else occurred to her. something that, the moment it arose in her thoughts, she couldn't prevent from leaving her mouth.

"did you send me a rose on valentine's day?"

[seokth]

mother knows best | 3

— drabble 3 ; of hair styles and scissors —

pairing | ot7 x female reader (platonic), ot7 moms & female reader

summary | being the only woman in a friend group with seven men automatically makes you the love interest in seven mothers’ wistful romantic stories. though your relationship with the guys remains completely platonic, the marriage fantasy their moms frequently project onto you and their sons has them coming up with all sorts of shenanigans to make you their daughter-in-law. mother knows best, you suppose.

warnings | overbearing moms, attempts at humor, platonic, slice of life au

series index | general masterlist

Something’s wrong.

Jungkook knows every nook and corner of this house, knows how it’s organized, knows every single crack, knows the exact location of where everything is.

So why can’t he find the damn scissors?

“Eomma!” He calls out as he scurries around the kitchen scavenging for a pair of scissors. He tries the drawers, the cupboards, even the refrigerator, but no criss-crossed cutter comes to sight. Not a single pair.

He could’ve sworn he used one just a few days ago. Weird.

“Eomma!” He tries again as he moves his scavenger hunting to the living room. He’s in the midst of turning over the couch cushions when he hears his mother’s laugh ringing through the stairs.

“Yes, dear, and make sure to get the measurements right, okay?” Mrs. Jeon says excitedly to her phone as she enters the living room area. Jungkook halts his scissor hunting for a split second to look up and spot your pixelated face on his mom’s phone screen. “And add only a bit of salt. It balances out the sweetness.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Jeon,” he hears you reply appreciatively through the video call.

Mrs. Jeon scoffs and waves her free hand dismissively as she draws nearer to her son’s spot by the couch. “What do I keep telling you, dear? Mrs. Jeon is my mother-in-law. Call me Eomma.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. After all, his mother never beats around the bush.

Sure, it may seem like a harmless comment coming from a close friend’s mom. But he knows his mother, knows that she’s as competitive as he is if not more, knows she’s already fantasizing about his own marriage, knows she has her eyes set on you as the bride.

(Actually, you have seven pairs of eyes trained on you as a bride.)

“That’s funny.” You giggle. “Mrs. Park told me to call her that, too. What a coincidence!”

Jungkook tenses. After all, he did say his mother was competitive.

“Well, that old lady didn’t just give you her signature homemade cookie recipe now, did she?” Mrs. Jeon says, eyes twitching. She needs to have a word or two with good ol’ Mrs. Park.

“Nope,” you reply, completely oblivious to the competitive fire in Mrs. Jeon’s eyes. “Thanks again, Mrs. Jeo— I mean, Eomma,” you backtrack with a giggle. “You’re a lifesaver!”

“Oh, hush,” she waves you off with a dazzling smile. “My cookies are to die for.” She then angles the phone to show Jungkook, who’s still busy feeling around the couch for the goddamn scissors. “Speaking of cookies, sweetie, here’s my best one yet.”

“Oh,” you exclaim, “hey, Kookie!”

She winks at her son while hidden from the camera, but he only gags at her in response before replying to you with a distracted, “hey.”

“Woah,” you say and he sees the worry etched on your pixelated face. “You okay? You gonna puke or something?”

“Nah, I’m just looking for some damn scissors.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause my hair’s getting too long.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” You pout. “I think you look good with long hair…”

He scoffs at your dreamy sigh. Of course, you would think that. After all, you cried for a full week when you first watched Harry Styles chop off his curly locks in a documentary.

“Anyways,” you say after a moment, “good luck with that. I gotta go, bye!”

“Bye,” he mumbles, still preoccupied with his missing treasure as his mom says her own goodbyes to you before hanging up.

He tries asking again after he finally has her attention. “Eomma, have you seen where the scissors are?”

Silence.

He looks up. “Eomma?”

“You don’t need them,” she blurts out, scratching the back of her head, feigning nonchalance.

He blinks.

“Who needs scissors, anyway? Useless inventions, scissors…” she continues, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Jungkook sighs. “Alright, what did you do?”

“Nothing!” Mrs. Jeon holds her hands up defensively.

“Eomma.”

“Nothing, really! It’s just that… I just hid them all in a drawer and—”

“Why would you do that?” Her son asks as he pinches the bridge of his nose, already having an inkling of where this is going, while she just whistles in faux innocence.

“I just thought… Well, you heard Y/N, didn’t you? Oh, Kookie, you look so dashing with long hair! Trust me, this is the best way to win her over.”

She wrings her hands when he says nothing in response, opting instead to give her a meaningful look, hoping she’ll get the point..

“Kookie,” His mom pleads. “You don’t want Y/N to be upset, do you?”

It’s Jungkook who ends up upset, flopping face-first on the couch in defeat.