#as a tag for that shes now confirmed ace!!!

[pjlotrhhjeml]

So what kind of gay people are in this game?

[hauntingblue]

BACK TO ONE PIECE LETSGOOOOO

[despair-ninja-everything-agency]

Y'know, if you think about it... Justwright, OdoNaru, and NaruOdo can mean two things

It's either shipping Phoenix with Apollo OR shipping Phoenix with Apollo's bio dad Jove

Either way, he's getting that Justice ass regardless with those ship names (Thalassa watching from afar 'boutta kill a man lmao)

[wyvernspirit]

You know what

Considering how badly Bridgerton absolutely fucked it up it is amazing to me that Cressida and Eloise nearly have as many Fics as her book partner

[kyunghwannie]

Entangled In A Dance Of Love (Part-2: Confirmation of Love and Heartbreak) [18+]

Ft. TWICE's Hirai Momo, Minatozaki Sana x M!Reader

Genre: Romance and Love Tension- mostly, Smut-15%? (Only with Momo..yet), Love Triangle

Tags: Anal, Titjob, Breeding, Dom!Momo, Roughness(?), Face-fucking, subtle degradation and praise

Description: Well, Why is Momo so hard on you? Who knows what's gotten into her after Sana joined the game.. But you can't deny that there's going to be some confrontation or confirmation but surely a heart break as well.

(This is my first ever smut I've ever written, iam generally a shy person so i tried my best on the smut. Iam still learning on how to write it with good depiction. So bare with me for now)

Stream MISAMO "Haute Couture" album!

Two Months Later -

Time had slipped through your fingers like sand.

Somewhere between the grueling practices, the unrelenting training schedules, and the ever-present pressure of living up to your title as JYP's ace trainee, the days had blurred into weeks.

And now, two months later, you were here-late 2023, sitting in your dorm room after yet another brutal dance session with Momo.

You barely had the energy to lift your arms, much less process how much had changed in such a short span of time.

Momo's training had been ruthless.

She pushed you to your limits-and then past them.

At first, it had been purely professional, her guidance sharp, her expectations high.

But as the weeks passed... something shifted.

It wasn't just about polishing your dance skills anymore.

There was an undercurrent, a silent tension that neither of you addressed but both of you felt.

The way her gaze would linger a fraction longer than necessary.

The way her voice softened-just slightly-when she corrected you.

The way she seemed... almost possessive when others brought up your name.

And then there was Sana.

You weren't stupid.

You had noticed the way she had inserted herself into your life.

Unlike Momo, Sana didn't push you until you collapsed.

She didn't demand perfection.

Instead, she snuck into your world like a warm breeze-effortless, natural, dangerously comfortable.

She'd drop by unannounced with snacks, casually throwing her arm around your shoulder as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

She'd tease you, flirt just enough to keep you on edge, but never enough to make it clear what she truly wanted.

And the worst part?

You didn't know what to do about it.

Momo was your mentor.

Sana was your sunbae.

And you? You were just a trainee-caught in the crossfire between two of TWICE's most unpredictable women.

Leaning back on your dorm bed, you let out a long sigh, staring up at the ceiling.

This was getting dangerous.

But the question was...

Dangerous for whom?

---

You exhaled, staring at the ceiling, letting your body sink into the mattress. Every muscle in your body protested in soreness, a dull ache settling deep into your bones from the past two months of non-stop training.

And just when you thought you could have at least one evening to breathe...

Your phone vibrated.

You barely had the strength to lift it, but curiosity won over exhaustion-a mistake you instantly regretted.

[JYP Training Schedule]

Dance Training (Mentor: Momo) - Last Session of the Day: 6:30 PM

Your fingers went limp, the phone slipping from your grasp, landing on your stomach with a soft thud.

Y/N: "No... no, please... Not today... Not her... Not again..."

You could feel tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.

The kind born from pure, existential suffering.

It wasn't just dance training.

It was training with Momo.

Two hours-minimum-of relentless footwork, brutal conditioning, and the suffocating feeling of her sharp gaze analyzing every single one of your movements.

You could already hear her voice echoing in your head-

"Again."

"That was sloppy, Y/N."

"Are you giving up already? I thought you were the ace."

Y/N: "I just... I just wanted a moment to exist..."

You turned your head to stare at the clock. 4:12 PM.

Two hours and eighteen minutes until your inevitable demise.

Your stomach twisted, knowing exactly how the evening would go.

Momo wouldn't go easy on you.

Not even a little.

And worse? She'd be in one of her "moods."

Ever since Sana had inserted herself into your life, Momo had been different. She masked it well-still the same strict mentor, the same composed sunbae-but you weren't an idiot.

She was being pushy, more intense than usual, as if trying to stamp out any external influences-especially a certain Minatozaki Sana.

And that meant hell for you.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face.

Maybe if you faked death, you could get out of it.

...No, Momo would probably still drag your lifeless body onto the dance floor.

You stared at the ceiling, lips trembling, tears welling up as a dramatic sense of despair settled deep in your soul.

Y/N: "Why... why must I suffer like this?"

You turned to your side, clutching your pillow like it held the answers to life's greatest mysteries.

Y/N: "I was just an innocent ONCE... a devoted fan... a humble admirer of my sunbaenims..."

A single tear rolled down your cheek as you sniffled dramatically.

Y/N: "I used to be the one watching their performances from behind my laptop screen, replaying their dance practice videos like a student of the arts... And now... now I am the victim of one of them..."

You turned onto your back again, eyes glossed over as you remembered the first time you saw Momo dance. The way she owned the stage, her movements effortless yet deadly, as if she were born to command the rhythm itself.

Y/N: "I admired her... I loved her work... I treated her like a goddess..."

You sat up suddenly, gripping your blanket in sheer betrayal.

Y/N: "So why is she the reason I collapse after every session like a shrimp?!"

You had never doubted your love for TWICE before.

But after two months of merciless training under Hirai Momo...

...you were starting to question if this was what ONCEs were meant to suffer.

Y/N: "I just wanted to support my idols... not be tortured by one..."

The irony wasn't lost on you.

You had spent years as a dedicated fan, hyping them up, watching their performances in awe, admiring their talent.

Now?

Now you were personally experiencing that talent in the most agonizing way possible.

And yet...

Your stomach sank as you realized something even worse.

Even though Momo put you through hell every session...

...you never once considered giving up.

Not because you had to.

But because you still admired her.

Y/N: "Damn it..."

You rolled onto your stomach, burying your face into your pillow with a muffled, frustrated scream.

You sat up instantly, heart pounding in your chest as an existential dread settled in.

Y/N: "No... no, no, no, no, no!"

Your hands clutched your head as your brain spiraled into a worst-case scenario. Momo wouldn't do that to me, right?

She wouldn't... she wouldn't make me do that again.

Not "Set Me Free.".

The hell that was TWICE's powerhouse anthem, a song that burned every fiber of your being every time you danced it.

A song that drained the very soul from your body.

A song that, at this point, you had danced so many times under Momo's supervision that even hearing the intro sent a traumatic jolt down your spine.

And yet... what if she made you do it again?

Your breath hitched.

No. No. NO.

Your hands clawed at your blanket as a flashback hit you like a freight train.

- Two weeks ago. -

Momo stood before you, arms crossed, lips curling into a satisfied smirk as you gasped for air, drenched in sweat, kneeling on the hardwood floor of the practice room.

Momo: "Again."

Your soul left your body.

Y/N: "Sunbaenim... I... I can't..."

Your arms trembled as you barely held yourself up, your body on the verge of collapse after dancing Set Me Free five times in a row without a single long break.

Momo tilted her head, raising a brow.

Momo: "Oh? But weren't you the 'Ace Trainee'? The one who can do everything?"

Y/N: "I can... but I also want to live..."

Momo hummed, crouching before you, her sharp gaze locking onto yours.

Momo: "Then prove it."

She reached for the speaker, finger hovering over the play button, and in that moment, you swore you saw your life flash before your eyes.

- Now. -

You shot up from your bed, panting.

Y/N: "SHE WOULDN'T DARE!"

...

...would she?

You grabbed your phone, scrolling to your messages, desperately searching for something-anything-that would confirm today's training agenda.

Nothing.

Y/N: "No. No, no, no, no, no-"

You shoved your blanket off, scrambling out of bed like your life depended on it.

You had to mentally prepare.

If Momo wasn't planning to make you dance Set Me Free tonight, then fine.

But if she was...

You needed to have your will written.

You stepped into the practice room, shoulders still tense from your earlier panic attack over Set Me Free.

The air was still, the mirrored walls reflecting your nervous figure as you set down your bag.

Your legs still felt wobbly, the trauma from past training sessions etched into your muscles, but you tried to shake it off.

Y/N: "Alright... maybe today won't be that bad..."

A loud thud made you flinch.

The door swung open.

Hirai Momo had entered the chat.

And she looked pissed.

You froze, watching as she walked in, a storm brewing in her dark eyes. Her lips were pressed tight, jaw set, and if looks could kill-

Well, you would have been dead before you could even breathe.

Your soul left your body.

You hadn't even done anything wrong today!

...Had you?

Momo dropped her bag, cracking her neck as she eyed you like a predator sizing up its prey.

Momo: "We're doing variations today."

Her voice was calm. Too calm.

That was not a good sign.

Y/N: "V-Variations?"

Momo: "Mhm."

She stepped closer, rolling her shoulders.

Momo: "I want to see how fast you can adapt to different styles of choreography. So we'll be doing various TWICE songs."

...Huh?

Your stomach sank.

Y/N: "Wait, wait, wait. Why only TWICE songs?"

Momo's sharp gaze flickered toward you.

Momo: "What? You have a problem?"

Y/N: "N-No! But- mean, can't we add some boy group songs too? Maybe something with less-"

Momo: "No."

Your words died in your throat.

Momo crossed her arms, her expression unwavering.

Momo: "You think TWICE choreographies aren't intense enough?"

You went silent.

Y/N: "I... I never said that-"

Momo: "Good. Because I'd shut you up either way."

Your soul fled to another dimension.

Y/N: "...I see."

There was no escape.

---

Your chest heaved, lungs aching as you gasped for breath.

Y/N: "Haaah-haaah-hrrgh-"

Your body shook from the exhaustion, sweat dripping from your chin as you leaned forward, bracing yourself on your thighs.

But even then-it wasn't enough.

Your body was starved of oxygen.

Your mouth parted wide, sucking in deep gulps of air, but it felt like you were drowning on land.

Your vision blurred for a second, and for a terrifying moment, you thought you were going to pass out.

Momo: "...Y/N."

Her voice was calm, but you barely registered it over the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

You slumped forward, catching yourself on your hands, palms pressing against the cold floor.

Oxygen.

You needed more oxygen.

Now.

Your mouth hung open as you desperately sucked in air, but it still felt like you were being strangled.

Momo sighed, stepping closer.

Momo: "You're hyperventilating, idiot."

You barely heard her as your mind frantically tried to regulate itself.

Then-suddenly-

A hand grabbed the back of your shirt, yanking you up.

Before you could react, something cold was pressed against your lips.

Momo: "Drink."

Your fingers trembled as you took the bottle from her hand, water spilling down your chin as you took huge, greedy gulps.

Your breathing finally began to slow, the rush of air into your lungs less suffocating.

Your head tilted back, eyes fluttering closed as the cold liquid cooled your burning throat.

A few more minutes passed before Momo sighed, her arms crossing.

Momo: "Pathetic. I thought you had more stamina than this."

Her words stung-but you were too tired to respond.

Your entire body felt like it was made of lead.

Your arms trembled as you weakly pushed yourself up from the floor, still breathing heavily, your vision slightly swimming from the sheer exhaustion.

Momo had already grabbed her things, a towel draped over her neck, as she headed toward the door.

You didn't even know why-but something inside you twisted painfully.

Even though your body screamed for you to stay still-

Your lips parted, your voice hoarse and breathless.

Y/N: "...Momo-sunbaenim."

She froze mid-step.

You didn't even see her reaction-you were too busy staring at the floor.

Y/N: "...I'm sorry."

Your fingers curled into your sweat-soaked shirt.

Y/N: "I-If I disappointed you today... I-"

You sucked in a shaky breath, still not daring to look at her.

Y/N: "I really... tried my best."

A long silence filled the room.

Momo stood motionless, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag.

Then-without a single word-

She turned and walked away.

The door shut behind her, the sound echoing through the empty practice room.

You barely had the energy to react.

You just slumped back down on the floor, your head resting against the cold wall.

Her grip on her bag tightened, her jaw clenching as a sharp wave of guilt slammed into her chest.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Why did she push you so hard?

And why-when she heard you apologize so sincerely, with so much raw emotion in your exhausted voice-

Did she feel like the worst person alive?

Momo: "...I'm such an idiot."

Her eyes shut tight, frustration bubbling inside her.

Momo: "Why am I being so immature?"

This wasn't what she wanted.

She had plans. She had reasons.

But today, she let her emotions take control.

And now, you-had apologized to her, even when she was the one being irrational.

She exhaled harshly, gripping the strap of her bag before walking away-

But the guilt lingered, crawling under her skin like a heavy weight that she couldn't shake off.

A Month Later - Under Her Control

The past month had been... strange.

At first, Momo was just your strict but talented mentor-pushing you past your limits, making sure your dance flowed, your rhythm synchronized, your every step sharp yet fluid.

But somewhere along the way-she started worming her way into your daily life.

At first, it was small things.

Like handing you a water bottle before you could reach for one yourself. Or grabbing a towel and tossing it at you before you even realized you were sweating buckets.

Then it escalated.

Momo: "Y/N, you're eating way too much junk. I'm sending you a proper meal plan."

And the next day-boom.

Your phone buzzed, a detailed meal plan from her sitting in your messages.

And because you were a good student, you followed it.

Then it became clothes.

Momo: "Y/N, are you seriously wearing that?"

You looked down at your black hoodie and sweats. What was wrong with it?

Momo: "You look like a sleepy high schooler. Hold on."

The next thing you knew, she dragged you to a department store, making you try on outfits that-frankly-you never would've picked yourself.

And because you were too tired to argue, you let her pick.

Soon-she wasn't just your mentor.

She was your meal planner.

Your stylist.

Your supervisor.

And somehow-you let it happen.

Not because she forced you.

But because... you were getting used to it.

Hell-was she even controlling you?

Or were you just stupidly obedient?

You had no clue.

But right now-you sat in the practice room, sipping on the protein shake that Momo had forced upon you, staring at yourself in the mirror.

Y/N: "...What the hell happened to me?"

Your hair was neatly styled. Your outfit? Approved by Momo.

Your meals? Decided by Momo.

Your training schedule? Dictated by Momo.

Y/N: "...Am I even my own person anymore?"

The door suddenly swung open, and you didn't even need to turn around to know who it was.

Momo: "Alright, dummy. Time to start."

You sighed, finishing off your drink.

This was your life now.

And you let it happen.

At first, it was just a mentor-student relationship.

Momo was my dance coach. A sunbaenim I admired. A K-pop legend whose movements were so sharp yet fluid that even idols envied her.

But now?

She had become something far more than that.

Something deeper.

Something I couldn't even describe.

I didn't even realize how much she had wormed her way into my life until I looked back and saw just how deeply entangled I was in her presence.

At first, she was just strict and demanding.

But then she started staying back after practice, watching over me as I cooled down, asking if I was eating well, correcting my posture even outside dance.

Then she started sending me good morning texts.

Then reminders to eat on time.

Then checking in on me whenever I got too silent.

Then one day-when I was just sitting in the practice room, drained and lost in my own thoughts-she just sat down next to me and sighed.

Not as Momo the Mentor.

But as Momo the Person.

Momo: "Y/N... you okay?"

I didn't even know how to answer that.

Because truthfully?

I didn't know how I was feeling anymore.

My whole life had been practice, training, expectations, and the relentless pursuit of being good enough.

And somehow, Momo became the only person I could talk to about it.

She didn't push. She didn't force words out of me.

She just sat there-waiting.

And before I even realized, I was confiding in her more than I had ever confided in anyone.

I told her about the pressure, about the expectations, about the nights where I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering if I would ever be enough.

And she just listened.

Really listened.

And when I was done, she just patted my head and said-

Momo: "You're too hard on yourself."

It was such a simple statement.

But for some reason, it almost made me tear up.

Because for the first time in my entire career-someone wasn't demanding more from me.

She just... saw me.

And that was when I realized-

Momo wasn't just gaining control over my training.

She was gaining control over me.

My habits. My daily routine. My emotions.

And I-being the obedient fool that I was-just let it happen.

Months of Momo slowly taking control of my life.

Months of her presence growing larger, more influential-until she wasn't just my mentor anymore. She was my constant.

She picked my meals.

She picked my clothes.

She picked when I rested-because without her, I wouldn't.

And yet, I never once complained.

Because despite how strict she was, despite how much control she had over me... I trusted her.

She took care of me. She understood me. She was the only person I could confide in.

And that's why-when Sana started spending more time around me-I didn't think much of it.

She was a sunbae too.

She was warm, kind, playful.

She made the long, tiring training days feel lighter.

But what I didn't realize... was that Momo noticed.

And she did not like it.

---

It happened late at night.

I was still in the practice room, running through choreography alone. Sweat dripped from my temple as I exhaled sharply, trying to keep my stance firm despite my exhausted legs.

Then-the door swung open.

And there she was.

Hirai Momo.

Her expression was unreadable.

Her gaze was piercing.

Her stance-too relaxed, too controlled-like a beast preparing to pounce.

Y/N: "Momo...?"

She didn't answer.

She just closed the door behind her and walked forward-slow, deliberate, almost predatory.

I instinctively stepped back.

Why... did she look so intense?

Why did she look like she was about to do something irreversible?

Then, her voice cut through the thick air.

Momo: "You've been spending a lot of time with Sana lately."

I blinked.

That's what this was about?

Y/N: "Oh... yeah. She just-"

Momo: "Why?"

Her voice was sharp.

It wasn't curious.

It was demanding.

I swallowed, suddenly feeling like a cornered prey.

Y/N: "She... checks in on me sometimes. We talk. She's nice-"

Momo: "And I'm not?"

That made me freeze.

Y/N: "What? No, I didn't mean-"

Momo: "Then why do you need her?"

She took another step forward.

I stepped back.

But my back hit the mirror.

Now I had nowhere to go.

I had never seen Momo like this before.

Her eyes weren't just sharp.

They were burning.

Not with anger.

Not with irritation.

But with something deeper.

Something that made my breath hitch.

And before I could even process it-

She placed her hands on either side of my head, caging me in.

I inhaled sharply.

Y/N: "Momo, wh-"

Momo: "Look at me."

I did.

And in that moment-I understood.

This wasn't about Sana.

This wasn't about me spending time with another sunbae.

This was about her.

Her claim.

Her possession.

Her dominance.

And I-the fool who had let her take control of my life-hadn't even realized what was happening until now.

Then she leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Momo: "You're mine, Y/N."

My breath hitched.

Her hand brushed against my jaw-light, teasing, but enough to send a shiver down my spine.

She was close.

Too close.

Her scent surrounded me-vanilla, sweat, and something uniquely Momo.

My heartbeat was erratic.

My knees felt weak.

I was trapped.

Not just by her presence, but by her aura.

By the sheer power she exuded.

Then-her fingers ghosted over my collarbone.

Slow.

Deliberate.

I just stood there-helpless beneath her gaze.

And she smirked.

A small, knowing, dangerous smirk.

Momo: "You're such a good boy, Y/N."

Her voice was low, sultry, laced with amusement.

She was toying with me.

And she knew I wouldn't stop her.

Then she tilted her head, brushing her lips dangerously close to my ear.

Momo: "I won't let you go."

I could feel the heat radiating from her-too close, too overwhelming.

Her fingers traced the collar of my shirt, barely touching my skin but leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

I swallowed hard.

Y/N: "Momo..."

My voice came out weaker than I intended.

She smirked.

Her hand moved lower, teasing the fabric near my chest, barely grazing my collarbone.

I felt my breathing hitch.

This wasn't playful Momo.

This wasn't strict mentor Momo.

This was something else entirely.

She loved that.

Her lips brushed against my ear, her breath sending shivers down my spine.

Momo: "What is it, Y/N?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, my fists clenching at my sides.

I needed to get a grip.

But then-she tilted my chin up.

Forcing me to meet her eyes.

Dark. Intense. Possessive.

My breath caught in my throat.

I could see it.

Desire.

Not just lust.

Something deeper.

Something that had been building for months.

Then-her lips curled into a smirk as her thumb brushed against my bottom lip.

Momo: "You let me control everything, Y/N."

I needed to breathe.

I shuddered.

Momo: "Your food."

Her other hand trailed down my side-slow, teasing.

Momo: "Your clothes."

My pulse spiked.

Momo: "Your training."

Then she leaned in, her lips barely an inch from mine.

Momo: "So why not this too?"

My mind went blank.

I felt her fingers slide under the hem of my shirt-just barely, just enough to test me.

To see if I would stop her.

But I didn't.

I couldn't.

Because the truth was...

I didn't want to.

And she knew it.

Her smirk deepened.

Her nails lightly dragged against my stomach, making me tense.

Then-she finally closed the gap.

Not a kiss.

But a whisper.

Right against my lips.

Momo: "Tell me to stop."

I couldn't.

I didn't.

Because at that moment...

I wasn't sure if I even wanted her to.

---

(A/N: Bare with my smut scene. Iam still learning to write beautifully and shy shy shy person hehe)

The dance studio is quiet now, the mirrors fogged with the ghost of your sweat-drenched rehearsals, the floor still vibrating with the memory of Momo’s sharp critiques. She leans against the wall, arms crossed, her gray tank top clinging to the curves of her perky breasts, damp from hours of drilling you. Her eyes—normally playful, even when she’s yelling—glow with something darker, hungrier. You’ve seen her like this before, but not like this. Not with her teeth digging into her full lower lip, not with her legs shifting restlessly under those high-waisted leggings that cup her plump ass like a second skin.

Momo: voice low, her Japanese accent thickening with tension “You… and Sana. You laugh with her. Let her touch you. Fix your hair. Her hands clench into fists at her sides. Why do you let her get so close, Y/N? Hmm?” 

Your throat goes dry. You’ve spent months memorizing the way Momo’s hips pop during choreography, how her toned stomach flexes when she demonstrates a move, how her perfect, pillowy lips purse when you’re not giving 200%. But this? This is new. Her jealousy coils in the air like smoke, mingling with the musk of your exhaustion.

Y/N: “Momo…Sana-sunbaenim and i aren’t close in that way...

Her pupils blow wide. In one fluid motion, she’s on you—hands fisting your shirt, slamming you against the mirror. The glass chills your back as her nails scrape down your chest, her knee wedging between your thighs, pressing greedily against your hardening bulge. Her breath hitches, warm and sweet against your neck.

Momo: growling, lips brushing your earlobe “Prove it.” 

Her tongue is in your mouth before you can blink—hungry, demanding, tasting like coconut water and mint. You groan, hands sliding down to knead the supple swell of her ass, squeezing until she whimpers. She breaks the kiss, panting, and yanks her tank top over her head, revealing pert, pink-tipped tits that bounce lightly as she shoves you to the floor. You land with a grunt, staring up as she peels her leggings down mile-long legs, leaving her in nothing but a lace thong soaked through at the center

Momo climbs over you, her pussy hovering inches from your face

Momo: “You want to worship me, Y/N? Start here.” 

You don’t hesitate. Gripping her hips, you drag her down onto your tongue, lapping at her slick folds. She moars—a high, broken sound—as you suck her clit, your nose buried in her pelvic bone. Her thighs tremble, her hands fisting your hair as she grinds against your mouth, juices dripping down your chin.

Momo: voice shaking “F-fuck, just like that! God, your tongue—ahn!—should’ve shoved my panties in your mouth weeks ago…” 

You flip her suddenly, pinning her beneath you. Her tits jiggle as her back hits the floor, nipples pebbled and begging for your mouth. You oblige, sucking one while your hand snakes between her legs, two fingers plunging into her sopping cunt.

Y/N: muffled against her breast “You’re the only one I want, Momo. Only you.” 

She arches, crying out as your thumb circles her clit. Her hips buck, fucking herself on your fingers, those dancer’s legs hooking around your waist to pull you closer. 

Momo: “I need your cock. Now. Don’t care if it’s my pussy or my ass—just fuck me!” 

You flip her onto her stomach, spanking her round ass hard enough to leave a red handprint. She gasps, spreading her legs shamelessly, her tight little asshole winking at you. You spit into your palm, slicking your dick—throbbing, leaking pre-cum—before pressing the fat head against her puckered entrance.

Y/N:  “This what you want, Momo? You want me to ruin this perfect ass?” 

Momo: face mashed into the floor, voice garbled but fierce “Fucking break me, Y/N—nngh!” 

You slam home in one brutal thrust. She screams, her walls clenching like a vise around you, but you don’t stop. Can’t stop. Her ass swallows you whole, every snap of your hips earning a ragged moan as her tits sway beneath her, nipples scraping the floor. She reaches back, clawing at your thigh.

Momo: sobbing “D-don’t you dare hold back! I’ll fucking kill you if you—AHHH!” 

You lean over her, one hand fisting her hair, the other groping her tit as you piston into her. The slap of skin echoes off the mirrors, her creamy cheeks reddening with every impact. She’s babbling now, a mix of Korean and Japanese curses and pleads for more, her asshole milking you relentlessly

Y/N: “Momoring-! Hnngg, iam close.."

Her body seizes, her scream ricocheting off the walls as her pussy cums, her ass squeezing you like she’s trying to drain your soul. You follow, burying yourself to the hilt as hot ropes of cum flood her depths. She collapses, trembling, as you pull out, your baby batter dribbling from her gaping hole.

---

Later, as you both lie tangled on the floor, her head on your chest, Momo traces the bite marks she left on your collarbone. Her voice is soft now, almost shy.

Momo: “Sana… she doesn’t make you cum like that, does she?” 

You sigh, tugging her closer.

Y/N: “No has Only you, Momoring.” 

Momo: “Oh? Iam Good. Now… let’s see how many times you can make me scream before the cleaners show up.” 

Dragging you up, Momo’s painted nails dig into your shoulders as she pushes you onto the studio’s leather couch, her eyes glinting with predatory intent. Her tits—full, peach-perfect, still glistening with sweat from your earlier pounding—brush against your chest as she straddles your lap, her core grinding against your already hardening cock. She grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head, her voice a velvet command.

Momo: “You don’t get to move. Not until I say so.” 

You nod, breath catching as her thumbs flick over your nipples, her lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. She smirks at your shiver, then rises to her knees, dragging her tits along your shaft, the soft weight of them making your hips jerk instinctively.

Momo: slapping your thigh “I said still, Y/N. Or do I need to tie you to this couch?” 

Her breasts engulf your cock, the slick heat of her cleavage squeezing you like a vice. She rolls her hips, making her tits bounce rhythmically, the pink peaks brushing your tip with every sway. Pre-cum beads at your slit, smearing across her skin as she leans forward, her breath hot in your ear.

Momo: “This what you wanted? To watch Twice’s main dancer turn herself into your personal fucktoy? She licks a stripe up your cock-slit. Bet Sana’s tits couldn’t even wrap around half of this monster…” 

You groan, fists clenching as she works you faster, her japanese tits jiggling obscenely, the wet sounds of flesh on flesh filling the room. Her dominance is intoxicating—every command, every touch, a reminder that she owns this moment… owns you.

Y/N: “Momo, I’m close—fuck—!” 

Momo:slowing her pace, smirk venomous “Uh-uh. You cum when I tell you to cum.” 

---

She releases your wrists abruptly, slithering off the couch to kneel between your legs. Her hands grip the base of your cock, stroking roughly as she tilts her head up, lips parted. The sight of her—makeup smudged, hair messy, those doe eyes locked on yours—sends a vicious throb through your dick.

Momo: “Cover my face. Now.” 

You don’t hesitate. Pushing her aback to pump your cock in her cleavage once more before pulling out, aiming for her smug, pretty face. Thick ropes of cum stripe her cheeks, her eyelids, her tongue as she sticks it out greedily. She moans, lapping at the tip, swallowing every drop that lands in her mouth. 

Momo:  “Look at me. Perfect, right? Bet you wanna take a photo for Sana… show her who you really belong to.” 

You’re still panting when she stands, marching you toward the floor-to-ceiling mirrors. She spins you around, your back pressing against the cold glass as she drops to her knees again, her cum-streaked face staring up at you devilishly. 

Momo: “You’re gonna fuck me in front of this mirror. And you’re gonna watch.” 

---

Giving you a few minute of dirty talk, She stroked your bulbuos cock, already hardening again. Rising fluidly, she hikes one leg around your hip, guiding your tip to her soaked entrance. The mirror fogs where your palms press against it, Momo’s reflection a blur of golden skin and messy blonde hair as she sinks onto you with a cry

Momo: clawing at your shoulders “F-faster! Don’t just stare—fuck me like you mean it!” 

You obey, driving into her with deep, punishing strokes, your eyes locked on the mirror. Her tits bounce wildly, her ass clapping against your thighs as she throws her head back, swearing in a mix of Korean and Japanese yet again. Her hands fly to her nipples, pinching them hard as she rides you, her cunt fluttering around your cock.

Momo: “See that? She grips your chin, forcing you to look at your reflection—your cock disappearing into her glistening pussy. That’s where you live now. In. Me.” 

You spiral closer to the edge, but she senses it, suddenly pulling off and spinning around. Her back presses to your chest, her hand snaking behind to grip your shaft, guiding it back into her ass without warning. You shout, the dual sensation of her tight heat and the lewd mirror image overwhelming.

Momo: panting “Don’t you dare cum yet. I want your dick down my throat first.” 

---

She drags you to the floor, lying back with her head hanging off. You loom over her, cock glistening with her juices, and she opens her mouth like a starved thing, tongue out, eyes blazing.

Momo: “Facefuck me. And if you make me gag, I’ll bite.” 

You hold her hair rather gently, sliding into her throat with a groan. She takes you greedily, gagging slightly but never breaking eye contact, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes as you thrust deeper. Her tits heave with every ragged breath, her hands squeezing her own nipples roughly, and you can feel her vibrating around you—a submissive paradox, still utterly in control

Y/N: “Momo—I can’t hold back—” 

Momo said glaring up at you, lips stretched obscenely

Momo: “Do. It.” 

You explode down her throat, her neck working to swallow every drop. When you finally pull out, she coughs, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, then licks it clean, smugness radiating off her like heat

Momo: “Now… clean me up. My pussy is dripping again with your generous work.” She spreads her legs, fingers parting her swollen lips. “Use. Your. Tongue.” 

---

Momo’s fingers are knotted in your hair, yanking your face upward until your eyes water. She’s perched on the edge of the studio’s grand piano now, legs spread wide, her puffy, glistening cunt inches from your mouth. The scent of her arousal—musky, addictive—hits you like a drug, your cock twitching helplessly in your pants. She smirks, grinding her hips forward, her swollen clit brushing your lips.

Momo: voice sharp, commanding “Lick. And if you stop before I say, I’ll make you choke on my strap-on for a week.” 

You dive in, tongue slashing up her slit, lapping at her juices like a man starved. She hisses, thighs clamping around your head, cutting off your air as you suck her clit into your mouth. Your nose buries into her soaking folds, her taste flooding your senses. She rocks against your face viciously, grinding her pussy into you, her moans sharp and needy. 

Momo: panting “Fuck—yes! Harder! Bite it, you coward—ahn!” 

You nip her clit gently, and she shrieks, slamming your face deeper into her cunt. Your jaw aches, but you don’t stop, tongue flicking her entrance before plunging inside. She gyrates, fucking herself on your mouth, her hands raking through your hair hard enough to tear strands out.

Momo: “That’s it—! Make me cum so hard I forget my fucking name!” 

Her thighs quake, her orgasm hitting like a freight train as she jerks your head side to side, milking her pleasure from your tongue. You lap at her greedily, swallowing every drop, until she shoves you back, gasping. 

---

Before you can breathe, she’s on her knees, not letting your cock rest as she started slapping against her already cum-streaked face. Her eyes blaze as she grips your shaft, slapping it against her cheeks, smearing your pre-cum with her saliva. 

Momo: “You wanna fuck this throat? Prove you deserve it.” 

You nod frantically, and she snarls, slamming her mouth onto your dick. Her throat opens, taking you to the hilt in one brutal thrust. You gag, reflexively bucking upward, but she pins your hips, nose buried in your pelvis as she gags, tears streaming down her face. She pulls off just to gasp, “Harder!" 

You fist her hair, fucking her throat like a toy, her mascara running, lips bruised and shiny. She gags, spit dripping down her chin, but never breaks rhythm, her nails digging into your thighs. The wet, obscene sounds of her throat stretching around you echo off the piano’s polished surface.

Momo: between heaving breaths “Cum—ghck!—cum down this throat or I’ll never let you touch me again!” 

You explode, hips stuttering as you pump her mouth full. She swallows every drop, coughing violently when you finally pull out, her voice hoarse but triumphant. 

Momo: “Good boy. Now… breed me.” 

---

She climbs onto the piano bench, ass in the air, her pussy glistening, still twitching from your tongue. You grab her hips, lining up, but she stops you. 

Momo: glaring over her shoulder “Ask.” 

Y/N: voice wrecked “Please, Momo… let me fill you up. Please.” 

She smirks, reaching back to spread her drooling cunt..“Beg harder.”

Y/N: “I need to cum inside you—please—I can’t think about anything but your fucking pussy—” 

Momo: cutting you off “Then take it. Breed me like the slut I own you to be.” 

You slam into her, her walls clenching like a fist as you fuck her with desperate, jackhammer thrusts. The piano keys jangle discordantly beneath her trembling hands, her tits swaying wildly, nipples scraping the wood. She screams your name, her cunt gripping you like she’s trying to suck your soul out through your dick.

Momo: “G-gonna put a baby in me? Huh? Do it—fill me till I’m dripping!” 

You grunt, knotting inside her as you cum, pumping her full even as she climaxes again, her juices mixing with your spend. She collapses onto the piano, gasping, your cum already leaking down her thighs. 

Momo turns to kiss you, ferocious and sweet

Momo: "I fucking love you so much.."

---

The room was silent except for the sound of our heavy breathing.

Bodies tangled.

Skin damp with sweat.

My chest rose and fell erratically as I lay sprawled on the cool floor, my limbs utterly spent.

And on top of me—Momo.

Equally breathless.

Equally wrecked.

Her face was buried in my neck, her hair sticking to my skin.

She didn’t move.

Neither did I.

For a while, we just existed.

In the aftermath.

In the silence filled with unspoken emotions.

Then—her arms tightened around me.

Momo: "You okay?"

Her voice was hoarse. Soft, but laced with exhaustion.

I swallowed thickly, my throat dry from everything that just happened.

Y/N: "I… yeah."

It came out more like a breath than a word.

Momo finally lifted her head, her deep brown eyes meeting mine.

Something flickered there.

Something gentle.

Something warm.

A complete contrast to the way she had just ruined me.

Her fingers brushed across my cheek, her touch softer now.

Momo: "You're shaking."

I blinked.

But now that she pointed it out—yeah.

I was trembling like a damn leaf.

She frowned.

Then, before I could react, she shifted, pulling me into her arms as she flipped onto her back, bringing me on top of her.

My head landed against her bare chest, her heartbeat steady and calm against my ear.

I sighed.

Letting my body relax into hers.

Y/N: "…You’re warm."

Momo chuckled.

Momo: "So are you."

I felt her hand rub soothing circles against my back, her fingers tracing lazy patterns.

It was comforting.

So much that I nearly melted into her touch.

A deep yawn escaped me, exhaustion creeping in fast.

Momo hummed, her lips pressing lightly against my forehead.

Momo: "You did good."

A warm feeling spread through my chest at her praise.

Y/N: "You too…"

Momo chuckled again, the sound vibrating against my cheek.

Then—she pulled the blanket over us.

When did she even grab it?

I didn’t know.

Because I was already drifting.

Momo exhaled softly, shifting slightly before whispering—

Momo: "Sleep, Y/N."

I wanted to say something.

Something witty.

Something snarky.

But all I managed was—

Y/N: "Mmm…"

Momo smiled.

I felt it against my skin.

Then—she held me closer.

The silence between us stretched for what felt like forever.

Momo’s grip on me never loosened, her arms still locked securely around my waist. Her fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns along my bare skin, as if grounding herself.

I wasn’t sure what she was thinking.

But I could feel the weight of it.

Something heavy. Something serious.

And then—I asked it.

A question that had been lingering in the back of my mind since the haze of exhaustion had started to clear.

Y/N: “…What will we do now?”

Momo stilled.

Her fingers stopped moving.

She didn’t answer immediately, her breath warm against my temple as she mulled over her response.

And then, after what felt like a small eternity, she finally spoke.

Momo: "I’ll handle it."

There was an edge to her voice.

Something firm. Unwavering.

Like she had already decided.

Like she had already claimed me.

The air shifted.

Her hold on me tightened, her presence demanding in a way I had never felt before.

I swallowed, suddenly aware of just how intense this moment was becoming.

Then—her next words came.

Words that felt like a command.

Momo: "Focus on loving me."

My heart skipped.

My eyes widened slightly.

She pulled back just enough to look at me, her dark brown eyes searching mine.

Something about her stare made me feel bare.

Momo: "Do you love me?"

Her voice was low.

Not a whisper.

Not loud.

But it held weight.

A question that left no room for games.

I sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly feeling like the air in the room had gotten too thick.

Love?

I hadn’t even had time to process what we had just done, and now this?

I felt her fingers press against my jaw, tilting my face toward hers as she waited.

She was serious.

And yet, despite the suddenness, despite the intensity—

Maybe I was.

Maybe I did feel something.

Something undeniable.

Something that had been building from the very first moment she stepped into my life.

So, I gave her the only answer I could.

Y/N: "Maybe… I’m reciprocal."

It was soft. Uncertain yet honest. And that seemed to be enough.

Because Momo’s lips curled into something dangerous.

Something possessive.

And then—she leaned in.

Her breath fanned against my lips, her fingers tightening around my jaw just enough to make me shudder.

Terms of Loving Momo

Momo lay beside me, her body still warm, pressed close as if she had no intention of letting me go anytime soon. Her fingers, slow and deliberate, traced the ridges of my collarbone, down to my chest, before stopping just over my heartbeat.

Her breathing had calmed, but her grip on me remained possessive.

She was thinking.

And then, she spoke.

Momo: "If you’re going to love me, you need to know what that means."

Her voice was firm but not cruel.

It wasn’t a demand, but a declaration.

She didn’t want a half-hearted answer.

She didn’t want uncertainty.

She wanted assurance.

Her eyes locked onto mine, waiting to see if I understood.

I swallowed, feeling my throat dry, but nodded anyway. "Tell me."

A slow, almost dangerous smile played on her lips as she adjusted herself, shifting so that she was hovering slightly over me, her arms caging me in.

Momo: "Good."

Then—the rules came.

1. No Lies, No Secrets

Momo: "If you love me, you don’t get to lie to me. Not about the small things. Not about the big things."

Her fingers slid down to my wrist, where my pulse was still racing.

Momo: "I want to know everything. What you’re thinking. What you’re feeling. What you want."

Her eyes darkened, her expression serious.

Momo: "If something’s wrong, you tell me. If you’re upset, you tell me. If I do something that hurts you, you tell me."

Her voice softened just slightly, but her fingers tightened.

Momo: "I won’t play guessing games, Y/N."

A lump formed in my throat.

She meant it.

This wasn’t just about trust.

It was about respect.

I nodded. "I understand."

She studied me for a second before continuing.

2. I Am a Priority—Not an Option

Her fingers trailed back up, resting against the side of my neck.

Momo: "I’m not saying you can’t have your own life."

Her thumb stroked over my skin slowly.

Momo: "But if you love me, you don’t put me second. You don’t make me an option while you figure things out."

Her expression hardened slightly.

Momo: "I refuse to be a second thought."

There was a vulnerability behind those words.

A truth she wasn’t saying outright.

She had probably been made to feel like an option before.

She wasn’t going to let that happen again.

I inhaled, pushing myself up slightly so that I was no longer lying down. "I wouldn’t do that to you."

Her eyes softened—just barely.

Momo: "Good."

Then, her lips curled into something more playful.

3. You Don’t Get to Look at Anyone Else

She tilted my chin up, forcing me to look at her fully.

Momo: "This one is obvious."

Her voice dropped, turning dangerously sweet.

Momo: "Your eyes? They’re mine."

She leaned in, her lips brushing against my jaw.

Momo: "Your hands? Mine."

Another brush of her lips—this time against my throat.

Momo: "Your thoughts? Your body? Your time?"

Her breath was warm against my skin.

Momo: "Mine."

My breath hitched.

She meant every word.

4. I Set the Pace

She pulled back just enough to look at me again, her gaze locked onto mine.

Momo: "I don’t like rushing things."

She studied my expression, as if making sure I was really listening.

Momo: "That means I decide how fast or slow this goes. If I want to take my time? You let me. If I want to keep you waiting? You wait."

I blinked. "Even if I’m dying?"

A small smirk.

Momo: "Especially if you’re dying."

I groaned. "That’s cruel."

She only grinned.

Momo: "I like watching you squirm."

I swallowed hard.

I didn’t doubt that.

Not even a little.

5. You Don’t Break My Heart

And then—her expression shifted.

Her teasing faded.

Her grip loosened slightly, but her voice turned more serious than ever.

Momo: "This is the most important one."

She leaned in closer, pressing her forehead lightly against mine.

Momo: "I don’t care how strong I am. I don’t care if people think I can handle anything."

Her fingers curled into my shirt, gripping it tightly.

Momo: "If you ever break my heart, I will never forgive you."

A lump formed in my throat.

I wanted to say, “I would never.”

But something told me she had probably heard those words before.

And that they had probably meant nothing.

So instead—I said something else.

Something I knew I could promise.

Y/N: "I’ll be careful with it."

Her breath hitched—just slightly.

And then—she sighed.

Momo: "You better be."

Conflicted Thoughts: The Minatozaki Sana Problem

Momo was asleep, curled up against me, her breathing soft and even. The warmth of her body and the weight of her arm draped over my chest should have lulled me into a peaceful rest. But my mind wouldn’t stop running.

I stared at the ceiling, heart still trying to process the whirlwind of everything.

And then—Sana came to mind.

Y/N (in mind): "Shit."

I had been so wrapped up in Momo’s storm, in the way she took control of me, of us—that I hadn’t stopped to think about the chaos I was walking into.

Sana… She wasn’t dumb.

She was playful, teasing, and at times, chaotic. But she wasn’t dumb.

She had been watching me.

I had seen it—felt it.

The way her eyes lingered, the way her jokes sometimes carried a hint of something deeper.

The way she stuck around a little longer than necessary whenever we talked.

The way she reacted to Momo's presence around me.

And now that I thought about it—Momo had noticed too.

That was why she had been so aggressive.

That was why she had pinned me down with her emotions, her control.

She wasn’t just trying to claim me.

She was trying to beat Sana to it.

I let out a slow exhale, gripping the sheets.

Y/N (in mind): "Sana-sunbae… I wasn’t too dumb to notice that you… might have a thing for me."

The problem was—Sana wasn't someone who took defeat well.

She wasn’t the type to back down when she wanted something.

Sana was competitive.

She was possessive.

And yet—she was sensitive.

For all her flirting and confident demeanor, she was the kind of person who, once she realized something she wanted was out of her reach, would break down.

Y/N (in mind): "And if Momo’s revelation hits her… it won’t just be jealousy. It’ll be heartbreak."

I turned my head slightly, watching Momo’s sleeping face.

She looked peaceful.

Composed.

But earlier—she had been terrified.

For all her dominance and control, there had been something fragile in her voice when she had told me her rules.

She was afraid of losing me.

And now, I feared the same for Sana.

Would she fight for me?

Or would she cry herself to sleep the moment she realized she had already lost?

I bit my lip, torn.

Y/N (in mind): "Shit."

This wasn’t just a love story anymore.

This was a battlefield.

The Moment Everything Changed

The air in the room was warm, thick with the remnants of what had just happened. Momo’s body was still tangled with mine, her breath slow and even against my skin.

I hadn’t moved much, still too caught up in my own whirlwind of thoughts about Sana.

And then—the door clicked open.

Sana: “Y/N-ah! I brought—”

Her voice was cheerful. Giddy, even. The kind of excitement that was infectious, like she had been looking forward to seeing me after practice.

But the moment her eyes landed on us—her whole body froze.

Her smile faltered.

Just slightly. But I saw it.

The way the corners of her lips twitched.

The way her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before something—something else—crossed over her expression.

I didn’t move.

Momo didn’t either.

She was still draped over me, her bare shoulder peeking out from under the sheets, her legs tangled with mine.

There was no way Sana could misinterpret this.

There was no way she could pretend she didn’t see it.

And yet—for a second, she tried.

Sana: “Oh…”

She let out a soft laugh—forced, nervous.

Sana: “I, uh… I thought you’d still be practicing.”

Her eyes flickered between us, searching.

For an excuse.

For an explanation.

For something that would make this make sense.

But there was nothing I could say.

Nothing that would soften the reality that she was standing in front of.

Momo shifted slightly, lifting her head.

Her eyes locked onto Sana’s, and for the first time in a long time—there was no teasing.

No playfulness.

Only silent acknowledgment.

And Sana understood.

The realization hit her like a bullet.

Her fingers trembled around the snack bag.

Her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something—but she didn’t.

Because what could she say?

That she had been too late?

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice.

Y/N: “Noona, I—”

(A/N: The OC is a 97 liner. Thats why Momo and Sana or older to him)

Sana smiled.

It wasn’t her usual bright, dazzling grin.

It wasn’t the kind of smile that made people feel warm inside.

It was the kind of smile that people used when they were trying not to cry.

Sana: “It’s okay.”

She took a step back.

And then another.

Sana: “I should go.”

Her voice was quiet, too quiet.

The way her eyes glistened under the soft lighting of the room made something in my chest tighten painfully.

She turned toward the door.

And then she was gone.

Just like that.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed in the silence.

Momo let out a small breath, but she didn’t move.

Neither did I.

Because this wasn’t over.

This was just the beginning.

To Be Continued....

[hardlyinteresting]

On The Beach

Jake Seresin x Reader

 “Jake Seresin! You better not be doing what I think you’re doing!” Shirtless he backs towards the ocean continuing to remove his shoes, socks and pants, “And what do you think I’m doing, Sugar?”

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, with no physical description, nudity, idiots in love, (please let me know if you'd like me to tag anything please),I grew up in an Army household so some of my Navy knowledge may be slightly off base (no pun intended)

This one-shot will exist in the same universe as other one-shots I have planned. But, they can all be read entirely independently.

Word count: 2K Masterlist | talk to me about Jake and Tyler

July had been unforgiving with heat; sweltering days, broken up by occasional rains that cooled the air but left behind intolerable humidity. August was built up as a promise of relief but instead, she steamrolled the record-setting temperatures of July with her own. 

95°F felt like some kind of cruel trick already, but the air conditioning at The Hard Deck cutting out halfway through a shift was a new kind of torture entirely. 

She’d been quick to help Penny to open up all the doors and windows to all the mild relief of the ocean breeze blowing through, bringing in a flood of daylight so uncommonly seen inside the cozy bar. 

The ice machine set to work overtime, fresh kegs of beer ready to pour by the time the usual crowd of regulars began to pile in. Stripped down to a tank top and shorts she ties her hair up to keep it off the back of her neck, desperate to get through this shift in one piece. With just the two of them behind the bar, she does her best to keep up with the seemingly endless pile of orders, reminding the pilots and veterans to take a glass of ice water as well. 

“Hey Sugar,” Hangman flirts leaning against the counter. It’s not fair that he looks so cool and collected, his khaki uniform still perfectly pressed, his hair neatly styled while she thinks she might be melting with the feeling of sweat on her back. She’s sure she looks a mess, but Hangman doesn’t take his eyes off of her as he waits for her to take his order. 

Jake is certain that despite the shower he took on base, he still smells like jet fuel. The hottest day of the year might not have been so bad under the shade of a big tree back home, a soft breeeze blowing through the branches of sweet-olive trees. He'd spent enough summers in Texas to know how to muck through the dog days. But on base, the heat radiates up from the black top tarmac, threatening to melt the soles of their issued boots. Up in the air, the glass canopy of the cockpit feels like a magnifying glass; doubling both the discomfort of intense flight training, and the intensity of the sun's contributions to the torrid day. 

Stripping off his flight suit and stepping into a cold shower had been a relief, matched only by the promise of a beer at The Hard Deck to end the week. 

The doors and windows were open when he arrived, a wall of humid and stagnant heat rolling from inside the establishment nearly had him turning around to head home before he spotted her. Sugar, with her hair pulled back, sweat gathering across her collarbone and chest, white tank top clinging to her in ways he previously could only imagine. She's a sight for sore eyes, and now leaning against the bar he has no intention of going anywhere else tonight. 

“Beer?” she asks him. 

He nods his confirmation, “bottle please,” he adds. “It’s hot in here today”. 

“AC broke,” she sighs, “Mav is up on the roof trying to fix it now”. 

“I’m not sure there’s much he can’t do,” he shrugs, “Drink some water. I can’t have you passing out, Sugar”. 

She does her best to ignore the flirtatious wink he throws her way. She knows he's a relentless philanderer, she's seen how quickly he can manage to find a date for the night. He's handsome beyond a doubt, and by far one of the kindest patrons she has, but she's not looking to be heartbroken. And friendship has suited the two of them just fine for the last few months, no reason to mess with a good thing. 

After two weeks of working at The Hard Deck, she'd finally given in to The Dagger Squad’s insistence that she join them at the pool table after her shift. Hangman had been a surprisingly gracious loser when she ran him out of 50 bucks. A few weeks later Jake and Bradley had thrown a drunk guy out of the bar when he'd given her a hard time and refused to pay his own tab let alone the rounds ordered at the sound of the bell. 

She had tried to thank him but he'd only given her a curt nod, “Nothing to thank me for, Sugar”. 

So she smiles back at his teasing grins, laughs at his jokes, and blows kisses and he playfully pretends they knock him over. It’s easy, it’s fun. “I know you’re just trying to keep your heart in one piece,” Penny tells her, “but don’t break his either”. 

No one sticks around too long, too tired, and far too warm to take up their usual challenges at the pool table. The sun has gone down by the time Mav comes in to let Penny know he had no luck fixing the AC unit before stopping by the table Bob, Coyote, and Hangman have settled at. Hangman has stripped down to his white undershirt, the T-shirt clinging to his chest and back, the sleeves drawing her attention to his arms that she's caught herself staring at too often to count. 

“Heading out?” She asks when Hangman comes up to the bar, getting ready to close out his tab, “You only had one beer tonight”. 

He nods, “Well, it'd be irresponsible for me to have more. I'm giving you a drive home”. 

She grins, slipping the bill across the counter, “I don't remember you asking me”. 

“Mav’s orders,” he answers easily, with a seriousness that makes her think he really isn't just joking with her. 

“Penny's actually, I was just the messenger,” Maverick holds up his hands in innocence. 

Penny calls last call early, before dismissing her for the night, “cool off. Go home,” she instructs leaving no room for argument. 

The night air feels lighter, though not as refreshing as expected, the breeze cooling the tack of sweat against her balmy skin. The sound of the ocean meeting the beachside echoes in the uncharacteristic quiet. She breathes out a sigh her head tilted back and arms out trying to make the best of the gust of wind blowing by. 

“C’mon,” Jake laughs, “I'll crank the AC for you”. 

She pouts a little in return. The glow from the fluorescent light inside the bar floods out across the deck patio, casting shadows out in front of them. He’s standing a good five feet behind her, but his bedimmed counterpart stretches out next to her own, overlapping as he steps closer. The moonlight shines brightly over the white sand below and it strikes her that despite working beachside all summer, she’s yet to step foot on the beach. Jake smirks, his head tilted towards the beach that's captured her attention. “Let’s go cool off,” his words a playful mimicry of Penny’s instructions.

Without protest, she follows him. His grin grows impossibly bigger, clearly pleased with himself as he watches her shuffle out of her socks and shoes, her footsteps so much smaller than his own, she struggles to keep up, but he never lets her fall too far behind. He moves quickly in the dark, the sand still warm underfoot. Nearing the water's edge he slows his pace. She’s gorgeous in the moonlight. She’s always pretty. His usual coquetry shrinks on the tip of his tongue; lost to thoughts and curiosities about her favourite bands, and what might make her laugh. He’s found himself growing somewhat softer as he thinks back to the night he met her, watching her glide through the room oblivious to the attention she’d managed to capture. Her smile lit up the room as she danced with her friends. Her laughter was loud and uproarious, very near infectious. 

His white shirt hits the sand in an unceremonious pile by her feet. 

“Jake Seresin! You better not be doing what I think you’re doing!”

Shirtless he backs towards the ocean continuing to remove his shoes, socks and pants, “And what do you think I’m doing, Sugar?” “I think you're trying to get me to go skinny dipping with you!” He laughs, “I ain't trying. I'm succeeding”. 

There's not an ounce of shame, nor an ounce of clothing on him as he wades into the water, not turning around to look at her again until his in up past his waist. “C’mon,” he calls to her, “the waters lovely!” 

She's always considered herself to be pretty easy going. But the idea of stripping naked to join Hangman on this oceanic side quest leaves her stomach tied in knots. She's seen enough of him playing football with the squad that she's not shocked by his broad shoulders, nor the expanse of his chest. She knows that standing on the beach, in a tank top a shorts that cling to her the way they do, she has little to hide her own form. But joining Jake in the water will surely only add to the tension they've allowed to build between them. How different is the ocean from an expanse of bedsheets when you're standing naked with Jake Seresin? 

“You have to promise you won't look!” She calls to him, pulling her top up over her head. 

“I promise,” he says, “scouts honour !” 

“Boy scouts? I'm sure you sold a lot of cookies with all that charm of yours”.

She shimmies out of her shorts, hesitating in her bra and underwear. Jake stands with his back to her holding up his end of the deal. 

“Cookies are the Girl Scouts, Sugar,” he corrects, but she can practically hear him grinning, “but I did earn my fundraising activity badge selling tins of popcorn”. 

Bare, she makes a mad dash into the water, splashing as she works to cover as much of herself as possible. 

“So,” she smiles, “you come here often?”

Her voice is quiet as she hopes that the joke lands, her knees bent to keep her top half under the cover of the unlit water. She tries to play cool. Jake, to his credit, plays along without missing a beat. “I can't say I do, Sugar. The dress code is too loose for my taste”.

“Ah, yes, of course. I forgot you're known for being a prude, Hangman”.

A gentle, yet unexpected wave pushes into the shoreline, knocking her sideways. Jake is quick to wrap his hand around her upper arm, not letting her get too far. This close, it’s impossible to hide from the gaze of his warm green eyes. He smells like cedar and amber. Warm and clean. Beneath it, the smell of jet fuel lingers. She knows how hard he must try to scrub it from himself at the end of each day, and she wonders if it might just be in his blood at this point. Another wave pushes them closer together once more. 

He clears his throat, trying hard not to think about how close circumstance has brought them; he weighs the validity of fate but pushes it down deep inside certain that one day these unlabelled feelings might just explode in his chest. For now, he startles when a sudden splash of water is directed towards his face. Sugar feigns innocence, but starts to paddle away from him as he blinks away the water from his eyes. 

“Sugar,” he warns, “don’t start something you don’t want to finish”. His own hands, larger than hers cup more of the ocean's surface propelling it in her direction with a great slosh, the sound echoing on the empty beach.

Up on the deck, Penny and Maverick watch the two distant figures throwing water, their laughter audible even when their words aren’t.

“Do you think they know there are sharks in that water?” 

Penny shrugs, “Do you think they know they’re half in love with each other yet?”

[kaleldobrev]

Comfortable?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Falling asleep in Dean's lap while he's driving

Word Count: 516

Warnings: None, honestly just pure fluff

Authors Note: Takes place pre-season one | Would anyone be up for a pre-season series with reader and Dean? Been really in the mood to write a little something | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

You didn't know what it was about Baby that had made you feel so safe and secure, but each and every time you stepped foot inside of her, all anxiety and fear that you once had would quickly wash away. She wasn't a quiet vehicle by any means. The engine roared, and sometimes she would bump a little more prominently on certain roads, the sound of legos would rattle when the AC or heat would be turned on, and Dean would always have some type of cassette playing even if you were attempting to get even a wink of sleep.

The more you thought about it, maybe it wasn't Baby who had made you feel safe and secure, but it was the man that drove her.

As Dean drove along the highway, there were no cars in sight. The only kind of light for miles were the headlights of Baby; not even streetlamps. Metallica was playing softly on the radio, as Dean lowered the volume so the two of you could talk without yelling over the music. But the conversation didn't last long as you felt your eyes starting to grow heavy.

You wanted to try and stay up so you could continue talking to Dean, but the tiredness that you were feeling was starting to take over more and more. Letting out a small yawn, you pressed your back to the passenger side door and crossed your arms, trying to get into a comfortable position. "Gonna sleep on me?" Dean asked, briefly looking at you before looking back at the road again.

"Unfortunately, yes," you confirmed. "I just feel exhausted all of a sudden," you said.

"Want your blanket? It's still laid out from earlier," Dean said winking. You looked at him, not responding to his comment as you were too tired. Usually, you'd give him some kind of sassy remark, or tease him, but instead, you simply just leaned into the back seat, grabbing the blanket Dean had placed neatly before the two of you had sex a few hours prior.

Taking the blanket you wrapped it around yourself, and tried your best to get comfortable, but you found yourself shifting way too much. "Come here," Dean said, gesturing for you to lay down.

"You sure? Won't be distracting?" You asked.

He shook his head. "Not at all," he reassured. "Now come here. I want you to be comfortable. We got a long drive."

"Okay," you said, before shifting positions. You placed your head in Dean's lap, while the soles of your boots pressed up against the passenger side door. When you looked up briefly, your boyfriend was slightly grinning. "Comfortable?" You asked.

"I should be the one asking you that," he said, letting out a small chuckle. "But yes, I am comfortable. Are you?"

"Yeah," you replied. "Wake me up if we stop okay?"

"Sure thing Sweetheart," he said, his free hand that was currently not on the wheel started stroking your hair gently; your eyes starting to flutter closed. "Goodnight Sweetheart."

"Goodnight Dean," you smiled before feeling yourself drifting off to sleep.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 @mrsjenniferwinchester @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @octoberclidan If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

[yuri-is-online]

Out of the Bag (Jamil, Ace, and Idia x Yuu)

"Oh can I help you? You seem to be lost." You attempt to cheerfully ask the vaguely familiar looking person in front of you. As if he is deliberately trying to rub salt in your wounds, Crowley ignored your request to leave campus for NRC parents day and is instead making you and Grim run errands. The person in front of you, blissfully ignorant to your inner turmoil perks up at your attention.

"Forgive me for asking, but are you the magicless prefect?" You and Grim exchange a confused glance. "You've got to be right?" They're practically glowing with how happy they are to see you. " Oh I'm sorry, I've just heard so much about you!" Wait, what?

notes: (so uhhhh Jamil and Ace were supposed to be a part of the original post but I cut them out because I had to go to bed but forgot to remove the tags, sorry </3) they/them pronouns used for Yuu, sibling snark (Jamil and Ace) vs light angst (the Shroud parents), light reference to certain events in Ch. 6, but nothing specific. If you liked this please check out the first version on my masterlist.

Jamil

"Oh yeah, you're Najma, right?" The younger girl looks pleasantly surprised you have remembered her from your visit to the Scalding Sands.

"Well that makes this a lot easier, do you know where Jamil is?" You internally cheer at how polite she is, some of the other families you have been dealing with today have really been testing your patience. "I've been looking everywhere for him, but couldn't seem to find a good opportunity to sneak up on him." Or maybe not, that doesn't sound like she hasn't seen him at all, why is she asking you?

"According to my schedule he's probably in the gym for the club activities program." You confirm with your clipboard and Najma sighs.

"Lame, he's gonna be all sweaty and gross." She checks her phone as you sneak a glance at Grim trying to figure out how much longer you have before you need to find something shiny to distract him. "Actually maybe I can just ask you." You turn your attention back to Najma who seems to be tapping her cheek with her phone and sizing you up. "Is there anywhere to get snacks on campus?"

"Now you're talkin!" Cheers Grim, bringing a really bright smile to Najma's face and a tentative one to yours. "Mr. S's Mystery Shop's got all the tuna you can ask for!"

"And other things to." You helpfully add and Najma happily begins to follow.

"So what do you like to do?" she asks almost ten seconds into your walk. "Like what fun stuff is there to do around campus?"

"Shouldn't you be asking your brother?" You ask, thankful Grim is too caught up in his tuna thoughts to make any snarky comments.

"About you?" Najma laughs and you feel a bit silly. "Nah he hates being honest about things like that."

"Well I don't have much free time..." but you manage to list off some things that you like as Najma nods, still tapping her phone on her chin for some reason.

"What about food?" she stops fiddling with her phone and just goes straight to texting on it as the Mystery Shop comes into view. "I know Jamil's food looks boring but it tastes super good."

"It sure does." Grim says, well more like whines. "He only ever gives it to Yuu and gets mad when I eat it though."

"That's because he asked for my opinion, not yours." It's a petty thing to say, but hey Jamil's a good cook. Najma seems to agree, giggling before you both jump ten feet backwards as a strangely shaped blur nearly knocks you over.

"NAJMA!" Jamil is indeed, sweaty and gross looking, his basketball jersey is practically drenched through, almost like he ran the entire way to here from the gymnasium. He's doubled over, hands on his knees as you fumble around looking for the water bottle Crewel made you bring with you earlier which he gratefully takes.

"Oh hey what are you doing here Jamil?" You don't know Najma super well, but she almost sounds disappointed to see her brother. "Prefect said you were at the gym."

"Don't start." Jamil passes you back the empty water bottle, hesitating just a bit before he lets you take it. "She didn't do anything weird, right? Hasn't said anything strange?" You blink in confusion.

"No? She's just been asking a bunch of questions about stuff. Jamil relaxes, letting you take the bottle with a genuine smile-

And gets cut off by a shutter sound effect making you both turn towards Najma, who doesn't bother looking up from her phone camera.

"Whoops thought I turned that off."

Ace

"Well, well, well, just what should I do with you?"  The ginger stranger is stroking his chin with an all too familiar look that puts you on edge, not because you think he is going to try anything illegal (yet) but because you can practically see the collar on this guy already.  There really is no beating around the bush about who this guy is, even if you really wished you had some plausible deniability.   "I could tell you about that time I told him if he kissed a frog it would turn into royalty and he actually did it-"  Too much information he technically just did.  "Or what about that time he only wanted to eat carrots so I freaked him out by saying he was turning into one because his hair was orange-"  So is yours big brother Trappola!  And where the hell is Grim he is supposed to be suffering through this with you.  "Nah those are too boring- oh I got it!"  Before you can break out in a dash for the mirror chamber, big brother Trappola claps an unintentionally (you hope) firm hand on your shoulder.  "Listen to this- wait I didn't introduce myself I-"

"Ace's brother."  He seems genuinely taken aback.  "He talks about you all the time." 

"Oh does he?"  Maybe you shouldn't have mentioned that, little Trappola's ego was insufferable already, older Trappola's has got to be worse right.  It's so obvious you can't even bring yourself to put the question mark on it.

"Funny you mention that, from my end it seems like all he ever talks about is Yuu."  He makes a big show of looking you over.  "Always talking about what a pain it is to look after you, but he never does stop."  He maneuvers himself to look directly into your eyes.  “You must be pretty special then, right?”

“Didn’t you used to go here?”  You ask, crossing your arms and fixing your best “not today Trappola” look onto your face.

“Sure did!  Also got put into Heartslabyul, must run in the family, we’re all a bit mad.”  Older Trappola breaks eye contact for just a second, something dancing on the tip of his tongue you have no desire to entertain at all.  You just want to ditch this overgrown root veg on his brother and then take a nap.

“So then, just to be clear, you don’t need me to show you around.”  You fumble around your clipboard looking for a map anyway.

“Oh no I absolutely need you to do that.”  You like it when Ace plays dumb better, at least it’s cute.  “Would be a really bad thing if you just left me all alone and I went somewhere I wasn’t supposed to.”  He stands up straight, looking off into the distance behind you with a dramatic sigh.  “Somewhere like Ramshackle Dorm maybe?  I hear that’s one of Ace’s-”

 A surprisingly strong pair of arms wraps you into an embrace from behind.

“Back off.” snaps Ace, a lot harsher than either of you have heard before “This one’s mine.”

Idia

"Dear! Dear! Come look it's the prefect!" A very excited very pink woman in a sundress and comically oversized sunglasses beckons to a very tall, very out place looking man who is... also wearing comically oversized sunglasses.

"The who?" he sheepishly walks over to his wife and gives you a little wave, clearly out of place but trying his best.

"The prefect! Ortho and Idia's friend." The realization seems to hit both you and Mr. Shroud at the same time, causing you both to retreat just a bit. You because you feel desperately dumb for not noticing the flaming hair and him because-

Well you hope it's because of the whole house thing but who knows.

"Oh sorry. Um we're Mr. and Mrs. Shroud but you probably already guessed that it's really nice to meet you." You awkwardly shake hands while Grim hides behind your legs.

"Do you have any plans for today?" Asks Mrs. Shroud. "I'd hate to interrupt things too much."

"Oh no that's not really an issue for me." You look down at Grim for half a second before adding. "For us."

"I'm sorry to hear that." whispers Mr. Shroud, gently taking his wife's hand and you stand around in silence for a little bit, trying to figure out how to walk the conversation from the ledge it's found itself on.

"Um if there isn't anything you need help with-"

"Idia speaks really highly of you." Mrs. Shroud says gently, and you have to keep yourself from fainting from shock. Idia speaking highly of- no forget that. Idia talks to his parents? And you were the conversation topic? If she had said it was Ortho that would make sense but Idia? "I know he can be a bit blunt, but he treasures your friendship. And as his mother, I am very grateful he has someone as kind as you in his life."

"We both are." whispers Mr. Shroud. "If you need help while you are here please don't hesitate to ask us." And with that they leave you and Grim

~~~

[Fullmetal] hey ortho said u ran into our parents irl

[Fullmetal] srry that had to be awkward

[yuu] it's cool

[yuu] I mean they spooked Grim but they were nice lol

[Fullmetal] UNACCEPTABLE

[Fullmetal] ...so do you think that he'd be cool to come over so I can like

[Fullmetal] apologize

[Fullmetal] u know for the stress

[yuu] and not for talking about me behind my back (￣ε￣)

[read at 6:57 pm]

[Fullmetal is typing... ... ...] [... ... ...] [... ... ...]

"I don't need to apologize if I said nice things... right?"

[sanjisboyfie]

one piece smau: dating sabo edition

liked by sabosbf, kokoala, and 10k others

[name]sblondie: this is exactly why im always late to work

tagged: sabosbf and d.dragon

sabosbf: DONT TAG YOUR BOSS????? HES GONNA FUCKING KILL ME??????

-> kokoala: LMFAOAOOA

-> sabosbf: i'm fuckin scared what is going on koala

d.dragon: This is hardly an acceptable reason to be late to work, Sabo.

-> [name]sblondie: boohoo just say youre sad and single

-> divaiva: SABO you're so dead.

freeluffy: cuddling is worth it

[liked by d.dragon, kokoala, and 200 others]

-> kokoeala: just heard dragon-san gasp in his office hold on u might be saved

-> [name]sblondie: thankgodthankgodthankgod

-> freeluffy: huh?

liked by [name]sblondie, divaiva, and 18k others

sabosbf: he's urethral guys idk

tagged: [name]sblondie

[name]sblondie: i think you're urethral too baby

-> sabosbf: i love u i knew u would get my humor

-> [name]sblondie: of course i would my love <333

portgasace: no fucking way u two are real

dni_nami: something is telling me theres something wrong with the caption, but lemme not

-> sabosbf: what's wrong with it :0?

-> dni_nami: ....

divaiva: u two are the cutest (please change that caption, i'm telling you this out of the kindess of my heart)

[liked by kokoala, portgasace, and 140 others]

-> [name]sblondie: my boyfriends caption is perfectly fine

liked by [name]sblondie, sabosbf, and 19k others

portgasace: barfed in my mouth i hate them

tagged: [name]sblondie and sabosbf

[name]sblondie: be nice to ur brother in law damn

-> freeluffy: [NAME] IS OUR BROTHER IN LAW NOW !?!?!?!?

-> [name]sblondie: future* brother in law my bad

-> freeluffy: booooo :(

sabosbf: yeah i hate u too ace, the only rzn u ever go out w us is so u can leech off our wallets

-> portgasace: thats a fuckign lie asshole

-> sabosbf: BROKE ASS

[liked by [name]sblondie, freeluffy, and 100 others]

boahancock: luffy's brother and luffy's brothers boyfriend are so cute <3

-> [name]sblondie: damn she don't even know our names

-> portgasace: professional luffy dickrider (for some rzn)

kokoala: my favorite gays <3333

-> [name]sblondie: ?????

-> sabosbf: thank u koala ;)

-> [name]sblondie: ???????

liked by sabosbf, portgasace, and 20k others

[name]sblondie: guys do u think he loves spiderman more than me

tagged: sabosbf

sabosbf: if peter parker hit my line, im sorry

-> [name]sblondie: ????????

sabosbf: his theme song is my ringtone for u so i guess it connects?

-> [name]sblondie: YOU GUESS???

-> sabosbf: that just means ur my spiderman baby >///<

-> [name]sblondie: DONT TRY TWISTING THIS IN A COMPLIMENTARY WAY U JUS CONFIRMED THAT IM UR SECOND CHOICE

kokoala: spiderman >>>> any other man

-> sabosbf: u get me koala ughhh

portgasace: good taste [name], gooooddd tasteee

-> sabosbf: hehe

-> [name]sblondie: WHAT THE FUCK????????? STOP FLIRTING WITH OTHER MEN RIGHT NOW???

liked by [name]sblondie, divaiva, and 16k others

sabosbf: got jumpscared by this pic in my cameraroll pls someone buy this guy brown contacts

tagged: [name]sblondie

[name]sblondie: me looking at u when u wake up 🧿🧿

-> sabosbf: its ok babe jus please maybe think about blinking a little bit longer

kokoala: cannot hold a conversation with him without feeling like hes thinking about murdering me

-> portgasace: what i said

divaiva: nooo you'd ruin his natural beauty :<

-> [name]sblondie: thank u iva <3

-> [name]sblondie: YOU JUST VENMOED ME 40 BUCKS WITH THE MSG "listen to [name]" ???

-> sabosbf: LMFOAOA babe don't actually buy contacts i love ur eyes theyre pretty :3

d.dragon: They are quite terrifying.

[liked by kokoala, divaiva, and 90 others]

liked by sabosbf, kokoala, and 19k others

[name]sblondie: boyfriend appreciation post because even though hes got a weird sense of humor, hes still mine (...i guess)

tagged: sabosbf

sabosbf: HEHEHE he loves meeeeee

sabosbf: ok why that ugly ass photo of me as the second one what the hell is wrong w u u just hate me

sabosbf: I LOVE U SABO, LOVE UUU

-> [name]sblondie: love u too handosme (...i guess)

-> sabosbf: STOP WITH THE I GUESS i'd choose u over peter parker anyday baby pleaseee

portgasace: not [name] picking up on me and luffy's appetite too

[liked by kokoala, [name]sblondie, and 100 others]

-> freeluffy: bigger appetite is the best appetite !

sabosbf's story

RESTRAIN ME??? MY SEXY BOYFRIEDN IN MENSWEAR HOLY SHIT IM CREAMINNNNGGGG

[name]sblondie replied to your story: u shouldve told me sooner, i'll wear them more often now just for u babe ;)

[demialwrites]

Former AVALANCHE/Turk Reader x ff7

HCs for when they find out you used to be the enemy.

Barret - Turk Reader

Pre AC (Advent Children)

You might think it's automatic breakup, but it depends on how long you've been together

It's especially favorable for you if you've been along for the hunt for Sephiroth for a while without betraying the group to Shinra

You and Vincent make a good team when it comes to espionage against the Turks and Shinra, especially since you'll have more up-to-date info than Vincent. It gives Barret great satisfaction to stick it to 'em

Sometimes he has doubts about you but he feels guilty and will probably admit to it and apologize during a moment of rest

If you helped drop the plate, it's over. Let the man cry. He's gonna carry on with the adventure

Post AC

Again, it depends on how long you've been together

Huge, huge bonus points if Marlene has taken to you. Because then it's a break from her, as well. He really wants stability for her

He'll have a really hard time justifying continuing the relationship if you were involved in dropping the plate, especially since that means you were hiding it until now

If he breaks up with you, his heart is just as broken as yours

Rufus Shinra - AVALANCHE Reader

Pre AC

It's likely that he'll break up with you unless you can prove you've got something useful for him

If you can help track AVALANCHE, minor brownie points

He's very slow to trust a romantic partner so dropping this truth on him will probably put him in a sour mood and he may lash out a bit. Or he may just go cold and shut you out

His presidency has not gone well and he doesn't want more stress and uncertainty

If he hasn't done that, and you have some of the necessary skills, perhaps he'll have you join the Turks. He can keep an eye on you better. You can slowly earn his trust back. If you get hurt this way, he'll get angry at himself

Post AC

It doesn't matter as much what you did before

It matters more that you're committed to helping him with his current projects

You should make an effort to get along with his Turks, though

Major bonus points if you were around while he was sick with geostigma

If he has any lingering doubts, be patient and he may eventually try to talk it out with you

Tseng - AVALANCHE Reader

Pre AC

When you tell him, it's clear he's feeling some kind of way: angry, sad, or conflicted. Maybe all three? But the silence stretches so long that it's uncomfortable and you wish you were arguing loudly instead

It's not that he wants to breakup with you but he doesn't feel like his life is his, so he leaves without confirming either way

It's a dick move and he knows it. However, he can't leave well enough alone. He keeps tabs on you from afar, hoping something changes and he can try to come back

Post AC

He is surprised you want to stay with him. After Shinra collapsed, there's much less for him to offer you (he definitely took a pay cut). And most of his time is spent helping Rufus

Give it time and these boys (and Elena) will probably realize there's more to life than living how things were before Meteorfall

If someone who used to be a part of an organization that opposed Shinra wants to be with him, perhaps it'll give him the courage to open up about why he's repressed most of his feelings for so long

There's clearly sadness and shame inside and if you're lucky, you can help him through it

Tifa - Turk Reader

Pre AC

She's more lenient than Barret but she also can't abandon her found family if they reject you, saying they don't trust you

She can recall all the good memories you've had together, squeeze your hands, and ask you to wait for her

It's a tearful farewell, with you wishing you could come along and help, even if just to support her. She's strong but she's also got a weak side that you want to protect

If you can convince them to let you tag along, she will eventually convince them to be friendly. After saving the world, they'll become your found family, too

Post AC

She may be distant for a while, busying herself with her bar

If her long-time friend, Cloud, refuses to have anything to do with you, she's torn but

She'll come around eventually if you prove that you don't have any bad intentions and intend to stick by her

If you want the same things as her in a relationship, you've found your best girl for life. Work with her at the bar until you retire

Reno - AVALANCHE Reader

Pre AC

Reno's response is most likely to continue the relationship mostly because "why the fuck not?" ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ He's already this deep

If he gets caught, he'll get in trouble, so he's extra careful when meeting up with you. He was already being discreet so he gets extra sneaky

He does tell Rude, reluctantly. Since Rude was taken advantage of by an active AVALANCHE member in Before Crisis, he's very skeptical that this is a good idea

Step a toe out of line, however, and it's over. Reno isn't going to go against his boss and his best friend

Fights extra recklessly for a while because the man is upset

Post AC

Honestly, who gives a fuck? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I think the most he'll feel is a little guilty. He knows what he's done over his lifetime

He'll be curious how you can reconcile having been part of AVALANCHE and then switch to dating a Turk

When you explain that AVALANCHE could sometimes be just as violent as the Turks, it eases his conscious but only a little

[1-800-fantasy]

While i am not assuming if emily engstler has or has not signed with an israeli team, looking further it does seem as if this could be true.

g’mrice davis is an au pros basketball player who also signed with hapoel. in her instagram bio she has the israel flag next to a phrase “professional athlete”.

other players that signed with hapoel are real accounts that are tagged that are followed by other basketball players. one player alyssa baron is followed by emma cannon who is former #32 on the las vegas aces.

Sadly the official Israel Women’s Basketball Team, who is followed by the Official Indiana Fever and the Official Connecticut Sun, has posted the post of Emily Engslter and her signing with them. UPDATE: I did a quick follow on the Hapoel account and they do in fact follow Emily. I then unfollowed them.

With what i’ve found it does seem as if emily has signed with an israel team. I am for now waiting for her to either confirm or deny these posts.

[metropolitanmutantofark]

things that will make me delete your mobile game (tag the game that checks all these boxes for you):

- 6+ ads after login (ads for the in game shop count)

- daily login bonus that resets to a pittance if you miss one day

- daily login bonus that ticks over at precisely 6:42 in the evening every day

- the game yells at you or tells you “the fictional entities miss you! ;(“ if my phone has been broken for two weeks so I can’t log in

- seasonal content that never comes back except in the “Premium (extremely expensive)” shop section

- pay money to buy coins to buy gems to buy things

- ONLY lets you buy things with money

- game runs so inefficiently that your iphone 14 burns your hand

- 40 game mechanics/tutorials for an app you will ONLY be opening during a car ride or waiting for class to start or what have you

- Snorpi Gritta, the Plunquette™ on the app icon, isn’t who you play as, but rather someone you COULD play as if you had $6000 to roll the gacha

- game walks you through how to play the game and use every single sub-menu even if you have 15 other apps of the same genre installed

- “this game wants to know your location, track data across other apps, serve you personalized ads, know your star sign, access your bank account, edit your last will and testament, name your firstborn, succeed your place as King of Flartania, be betrayed by the evil wizard Karklon, send you notifications…”

- the gacha/lootbox system is rigged so that you literally cannot get what you want too many times in a row

- having a gacha system in lieu of a shop you can spend those fictional coins you’ve been earning

- having a gacha system after I paid to download the app in the first place

- being genshin impact

- ads for your mobile game popping up in other apps when I already downloaded the thing (maybe the most minor complaint on this list but it bugs me)

- game sends me a notification to not miss out on a daily login streak

- you have to sign up with your phone number as if Snorpi Gritta herself is going to call you personally and tell you what a good boy you are for downloading her game or something

- every single character is extremely sexy (insert your favorite gacha game here)

- every single character is extremely un-sexy but always seem to be pulling a facial expression like they think they’re extremely sexy (subway surfers)

- game constantly updating for the most minor patches imaginable

- overly excessive customization with characters’ upgrades and gear to the point where there’s a separate wiki for the game’s lore and for the game’s meta

- “link a friend” or “join a team” systems as if I’ll ever tell anyone what games are on my phone

- your game is a pared-down version of a game I could be playing on the Switch, 3DS or Steam Deck right now

- your game is a pared-down version of a game I could be playing on the Switch, 3DS or Steam Deck right now and it serves 50 ads a minute when the original doesn’t

- charge mechanics that limit how much you can actually play, as if the game thinks “it’s not healthy to be on phone games all day!! :)” when I’m just really good at the game and am waiting for someone in the doctor’s office

- ^that but you can also PAY to keep playing the free mobile game and it’s prohibitively expensive

- Snorpi Gritta gets replaced on the app icon and now I have to look at Narmu Spartea who (despite her HUGE rack) I absolutely hate as a character since she’s taken over the meta

- your mobile game is just another match-3 or endless runner

- your mobile game is just another gacha game

- your mobile game is just another shooter with terrible controls

- the characters in your gacha have seasonal alts which I can’t purchase with in game currency and they won’t return until the “throwback gacha!!” which will only come around in 6 months when I will have forgotten all about the game

- you as the developer confirm that Snorpi Gritta is aro-ace which means that I, personally, have absolutely no chance with her, the fictional Plunquette on my iphone

- game asks your age before you start the game, which means you bet your bottom Gem they’ll be maliciously advertising things to you

- your mobile game is just Club Penguin with extra steps

- your game’s title is extremely unwieldy to say, only tangentially relates to the gameplay and/or has no discernible way to be shortened if someone asks what I’m playing (the “rooty tooty fresh and fruity” conundrum, EVERY gacha game falls under this without exception)

- online multiplayer that you have to engage with despite not playing the meta (Narmu Spertea can kiss my Assassin-Reverend Jennathy Larginhoffer I’m not putting that wretched busty harlot on my squad)

- your mobile game has spoilers so if I follow the “#⭐️Magic!!⭐️ Plunquettes™ of Harmenheim” tag on tumblr I’ll see EVERYTHING that happens in the final chapter as well as the ending of every seasonal side-story

- your game has crossover content with your other mobile game that literally no one ever is going to download (but you have to download it to access the best stuff in the game)

- your mobile game is a classic board game that I’ve already downloaded in the form of a classic board game collection

- your mobile game erases my account after 2 weeks without logging in like it’s a website from 2004

- I download the better version of the game on PC (rarely though Balatro comes around and does the opposite where I played the mobile game more, so kudos if your game does that)

- your game deletes my cloud save and all of my 140+ hours of progress if I change phones (Balatro… ;( )

- your game always logs me into Apple Game Center (the worst game service known to man) so someone at Apple ALWAYS knows that I play Plunquettes of Harmenheim

- your game sends me notifications because someone else is calling for aid in an Ultra Battle even though they are WELL AWARE I won’t be running Narmu and I still have Ningland van Grotteschuler on my team as a joke

- ^bonus points if that notification comes at 3AM (yes I’m awake but no I didn’t want the notification)

- my blorbo gets nerfed into the ground so the auto-optimizer never picks them for my squad, so I have to manually do it every time

- my mom starts playing the game (this isn’t your fault as a dev but our fault as a society)

- my favorite vtuber starts playing the game (this isn’t your fault as a game developer)

- my favorite vtuber starts playing the game badly and forces me to crash out in her chat (this isn’t your fault as a game developer)

- my favorite vtuber starts playing the game and puts that hag Narmu Spertea on her squad and forces me to yeet bees at her (this is your fault as a game developer)

- your game is an AI art visual novel

- your game is a brand-affiliated mobile game that makes the thing I like feel less like a thing I like and more like a brand

- your game preys upon FOMO even on a day-by-day basis with “flash sales”

- one of my tumblr mutuals doesn’t like the game and mentions any of the points on this list

- <insert infamous person on the internet> LOVES the game and makes me delete it out of fear of association in any capacity

- i downloaded your game 5 years ago and quickly deleted it, and when i install it today those memories come flooding back to me like it’s the Vietnam War

- you as a developer express an opinion I don’t like

- you removed a mechanic or a mini game that turned out to be the one thing keeping me playing

- your game is just Vampire Survivors

- your game is just Vampire Survivors, but it isn’t HoloCure

- the text in your really well polished mobile game has translation errors and/or typos, which renders certain scenes incomprehensible (but if those errors make it VERY unintentionally-funny, that won’t make me delete it)

- your game was big in 2011 because of the mobile game boom but is actually just a one-button game or playing with rocks

- your game is sex-bait but nobody has written fanfiction about the characters on ao3

- your game is sex-bait but the gameplay is subway surfers

- your game is sex-bait but the player character is the ugliest mf this side of Cleveland, Missouri

- your game is sex-bait and I get an advertisement for it on the mobile app for tumblr dot com

- your game is sex-bait and you introduce the “really 700 years old” trope

- your game is sex-bait and you introduce the inverse of the “really 700 years old” trope

- you buffed Narmu Spertea and left my darling Jennathy. To rot. In the dungeon for a thousand years

- your game is a free beta that has been a beta for 15 years

- your game has dating sim mechanics, but Assassin-Reverend Jennathy Larginhoffer simply WILL NOT date me because of her religious tenets and because it would put me at risk of being killed to get to her

- your game has dating sim mechanics, encourages polygamy, and the game judges you for it (even if you only try to woo Ms. Rev. Larginhoffer and your heart belongs to no one else)

- the dating sim mechanics in your game buff the characters, so you MUST engage with everyone on your team romantically in order to buff them, even if Ningland is the single least attractive unit in the game

- I find out your game has a huge memory leak

- I start playing the game, spend 4 minutes waiting for the game to load, and the battery goes from 76% to 14% in that time

- vanilla extract

[themagicalkidproject]

These Magical Kids were requested by absolutely nobody! As usual, @nerdiwolverine is responsible for the alt text- give them a round of applause, this was a tall order!

Asexuality is generally defined as the lack of sexual attraction, while Pansexuality is attraction regardless of gender!

The Asexual Magical Kid has a Clown/Star Theme, while the Pansexual Kid has a Mime theme (though they definitely have Jester elements). The Ace Kid uses He/It/They/She Pronouns and Eni/Enis/Eniself, Un/Uns/Unself, and Honk/Honks/Honkself Neoprounds while the Pan Kid uses She/It Pronouns!

To the left we’ve got Molly, named after the Amazon Molly, a kind of fish that reproduces Asexually! Molly can summon balloons, which are nigh impenetrable- unless it’d be funny. Honks one weakness is the bit, to which honk is bound. If it’d be funny for the balloon to pop, it will pop. They can also do balloon art at impossible speeds, making them useful for spontaneous supply creation!

To the right we have Kinomoto, named after Cardcaptor Sakura, a notable character who has been confirmed Pan by her creator! Kinomoto plays by the rule of slapstick- once the bit is over, she gets healed. This means that instead of taking actual injuries, Kinomoto takes humorous ones. If its opponent laughed, Kinomoto gets fully healed.

Molly’s Weapon is, what else, a giant goddamn hammer. It squeaks on impact. Using this in combination with Kinomoto’s powers, a quick bonk on the head that results in a laugh will heal Molly’s partner right up!

Kinomoto’s Weapon is three juggling balls. Because of the slapstick, Kinomoto is prone to falling whenever she juggles. When the balls form a triangle on the ground, they capture whatever is inside- This triangle can be any size. It’s very useful against spiders. Additionally, Kinomoto can will them into being smoke bombs- each ball will regenerate over time afterwards.

A useless fact about Molly is that he’s very attached to his mug collection, which is very expansive. He’s not allowed to buy any more mugs- he just doesn’t have room for them anymore. A useless fact about Kinomoto is that its very tired all the time, but actively stops itself from taking naps. After all, naps will just ruin her actual sleep!

Also these two are a pair because haha do you get it it’s like All or Nothing

The Magical Kid Project is a project wherein I steadily turn Pride Flags into Magical Kids! Requests are closed for now! Commission info is under the #commissions tag, I have a deal on Magical Kid Portraits!

(AN: Hi guys!! Happy Pride Month!! I’m sorry this took forever and it’s not even one that anyone requested, but I’m trying to get back into the swing of things!)

[mai-is-gai]

Hello, #maigai (or #mygirls even, or my #nichijou posts ig) peruser

ive been a nichijou fan and maikko shipper for 7 years now (apparently the 7th anniversary of the first time i watched it will be on the 28th of march yippee!!!! 🎉🎉). i was 17 at the time, and as such not all of the opinions i expressed in my old posts still reflect my current views

um basically so i have grown up and my eyes have opened and now i know mio is bi, and in a committed queerplatonic relationship with yukko, mai and nano (mai and yukko are still wives though obviously) i would like to formally apologize to all the mio x yukko shippers idk how openly i expressed it but i used to really hate that ship and ive never fully known why. i was probably projecting stuff i was dealing with irl. i still dont ship it but be yourselves babes 💋 if you cant forgive me for calling mio str8 that one time i understand, i cant either tbh

also on the topic of headcanons:

nano is still aroace

mai and yukko are both nb ace lesbians (this hasnt changed in a while but what has changed is i recently started identifying as ace and lesbian again <3 recently as in like in the past week lol)

yukko is transfem + left-handed + shorter than nano + adhd and maybe autistic as well (but ik people wont fight me about that last one, same with mai definitely being autistic)

idk what everyone else is but no one in all of tokisadame is fucking neurotypical have you seen them

about mai and yukkos cats: i have thoughts about them but the short version is theyre siblings, and they adopted them together after they started dating. (is yukkos cat's name confirmed to be Chissan?? bc while it's really funny to think mai not only picked a very similar name for hers but on top of that nicknamed her the name of the other one, its confusing for writing lol and on that note, suggests names i would love that!!)

and, okay. the ship is not literally canon. it's dubiously canon at best, but like there's a lot of fuel and it's real in my heart </3 (all those posts and tags about it being canon were 100% genuine though)

PLEASE DONT SAY ANYTHING ABOUT CITY I HAVENT READ IT

but anyway more importantly, like i said in a recent post the maikko hyperfixation is back in full force and im reviving the idea of making a big long video infodumping about why, bc it's something ive genuinely wanted to do for years but also GOD the original post about noticing mai is on yukko's bed in that one "subliminal" panel (which i made on the same year i first watched the show and read the manga) HAUNTS me i hate the way it's written. again reiterating another recent-ish post im happy people are still finding it and giving it notes bc of the message (obviously the thing its about but lowkey also me flexing that i knew the episodes rly well lol) but the words ew i hate it

if youre new here, hi, yeah im talking about this:

i have no recollection of when i first read volume 10 but i know i didnt immediately notice it. i just screamed like "omg what is happening why is she like that???? :0" but then one day it hit me- that is not her bed. this is:

i also liked joking about the big panel of that same page

"there's a high likelyhood that those are mai's legs- ohohohho so that's why she's so happy 😳😳😳" (notice how ive realized im ace since making that old post. i hate it 😭) but i mention it bc it definitely fueled my reaction

anyway yeah that was indeed yukko's bed

that's it. i noticed that mai is blushing on yukkos bed and it blew my mind. i mean it is huge like WHAT DOES IT MEAN IF NOT GAY, my point is i hate that original post if it wasnt clear lmao

anyway like i said it's still real in my heart and i intend to talk your ears off about why so stay tuned <3

[ace-does-stuff]

we might just bite underneath the moonlight

Summary: Chilchuck can't help himself from helping Marcille on the rebound of Falin's death, even if he knows that's all he'll ever be to her, the rebound

Tags: heavily suggestive themes, wound cleaning, the hot springs itself isnt sexual but the making out is, complicated relationships, check Ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: "Ace write a normal fic for dunmeshi please" fuck ya life, femme4butch lesbian marchil with a brief meijack cameo at the start. in all seriousness the marchil fanart is fucking fire and i had to write *something* for ya'll, it ended up much longer than it was meant to be. hope ya'll enjoy and if ya do consider dropping a reblog or checking the Ao3 port, it really means a lot

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56221963

"Being butch is being chivalrous," Chilchuck explained when his first daughter was old enough to ask why he never dressed like a gal and always wore tape around town.

"Right..." Meijack said, only a hint of confusion on her voice.

"It's like an honour code," Chilchuck said, a bit firmer this time, "A way to confirm that you'll always be the fists they need in a fight, or the one to foot the bill on a date- you're too young to get it."

"Dad, I asked a question, now answer it." It's almost a demand, proof that she is old enough to get it. Proof that she could leave any day now if he wanted it or not, which he really doesn't.

Chilchuck sighed, "It's not something I can teach, it's something that you fall into if you're meant for it."

-/-/-/-

Taking the hit is a reflexive thing, he still hates himself for it. Throwing himself in harms way for the femmes and letting the men take it head on is how he is whether he means it or not.

Blood bursts from the wound along his shoulder but he tries to strafe back into the dodging regime before anyone can register he took a hit for Marcille. He wipes down the wound and oh, yep, that's an arrow lodging itself in his spine. It has enough force to make him stumble and trip and fall, banged against a column and ears ringing.

Death by living armour.

This one is new.

He can hear it clunk as it steps ever closer and closer, fun. He sacrificed himself for Marcille, the girl who wouldn't even spare a second glance at the butch who won't see sixty. Humorous. Ironic. Tragic...?

No, no, not tragic, not tragic for Marcille. She couldn't care less about him, she couldn't care less about men. And to her, he's part of men. He's something so well disguised he'd never be clocked as anything but another dumb guy.

And he can live with that, that might just be the pre-death clarity talking-

A scream is ripped from his throat with the sword plunging deep into his flesh. As mortality is ripped from his body his hands fly to the blade and then he's gone.

-/-/-/-

The bandages wrapped tight around his chest are stiff now, he supposes that they've been down for long enough without a window to change them that they would get nasty. He's pretty sure it's giving his clothing the funk what with the sweat and blood seeping into it that he can't wash out while still wearing it.

He hitches his backpack a little higher up as they reach floor four. Cool air washes over him comfortably as the slow and lazy flow of the water bounces back and forth. It's comforting, he never thought he'd yearn for floor four. Full of sirens and kelpies and deception galore, seemingly calm but full of danger.

Senshi's laying down a pot already and Laois is probably drooling over whatever it is that their latest companion is cooking. And Marcille is brushing her hair, undoing the braids slowly and letting it fall down over her shoulders and Chilchuck isn't allowed to stare.

He wouldn't dare stare, not without her permission at least. That's sacred to her, her hair, her magic, it all ties into one thing that's the core of her existence. It'd be kind of obscene to catch a glimpse of that without her permission, even if Chilchuck is a rogue, a thief, and a cheat he has standards.

"I'm gonna wash off!" Before he gets a response he's trudging over to a sharp corner to slip behind.

The ledge sort of crumbles off the further he strays from the initial landing of the floor. Turquoise glow casting up from the water below, it's scary to expose himself in a false isolation. No one is watching, it's fine, no one is going to walk on over. Well, maybe Laois, but Laois is a dumbass who absolutely would.

First the scarf comes off and his breath hitches as it rises over his head. He should've changed his wraps before coming down to the dungeon, he should've known better. He's been doing this adventuring shit since he was a kid how did he not figure something so simple by now.

He kicks off his socks and shoes next, lining them up next to his bag. In an effort to avoid the inevitable, he retrieves his towel and fresh bandages. They're dropped near the edge as he proceeds to disrobe.

The leather armour slides off much easier then the scarf did, so much easier. With the first step taken, everything afterwards becomes so much easier and he supposes it's that way with everything. Even so he's hesitant to slide off his gloves and reveal scarred flesh to no one but himself and the gentle glow of the lake.

He'll never be able to tell what's harder to take off be it the pants or the shirts, but he still shucks off his pants first. He's starting to feel the nausea, the insecurity, the fear. Of what? He's not quite sure but he swears he's breaking a code of conduct of some sort by stripping down and washing off to save himself from potential infections.

Chilchuck steps down from the ledge onto a raft before taking off his shirt, only then does he dare even think about the bindings wrapped so tight around his chest. He doesn't even have anything to bind, god, why does he even bother. His ex-wife was the only one who could see through the facade and want for what he is anyways, not like he'll luck out with some bi chick again.

Slowly he sinks into the light blue waters, arms rested on the planks of the raft as the stiff gauze soaks. He's slow to unravel the binding and he can only give a stiff exhale because wow, he forgot what it's like to have chest weight. Familiar but foreign, something he barred because he was sure he didn't get as many jobs looking like a girl.

A cigarette would go great with having a soak and relaxing a bit despite all the stress. He doesn't have any of those so instead he dunks his head and washes off, same refreshing feeling. It's nice to get off a couple days of grime, just relaxing enough that he zones out to the point he doesn't register the outside world until Marcille drops her staff.

Oh, fuck.

"Marcille," Chilchuck begins, back still turned to her.

"Y-Yeah?" Marcille asked, trying desperately to beat down the red up to the tips of her ears.

"How much did you see?" Chilchuck asked.

Marcille doesn't answer.

"How. Much."

"Enough." Marcille choked out.

"Look, just toss my down my clothes to the raft and I'll get dressed. Let's act like this never happened, for both of our sakes." He's screaming at himself for saying that. This is his chance, his one, singular chance, and he's butchering it.

Marcille does as told and averts her eyes.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you that it's rude to peep on a lady?" Chilchuck has the gall to ask it as he drags himself out of the water and towels down. He hears a small squeaky sort of sound from Marcille in response, he shrugs it off and tugs back on his pants.

"Well, yeah, of course they did."

"Lemme guess, you didn't think I was this?"

"Yeah." She tugs down the hem of her sleeves a bit, "Did you properly disinfect any wounds?"

"Don't be an idiot, I don't have any wounds to disinfect, and I would've if I had." He's lying, he didn't have the time to reopen a scabby one that had bits of gauze stuck inside, merely skin deep but still an issue. His gloves slide on back with ease but he has to tug just a bit to ensure that they cover all the scars properly.

"Are you almost done? Senshi sent me to get you for dinner." Marcille tapped her foot anxiously on the ground. Very briefly, she wonders if Chilchuck can hear the fact that her heart is racing. She wonders if her heart could just stop right here and now to save her from the shame of it all.

"Hold your horses," Chilchuck answered with. He hisses as gauze comes to lay atop the wound again, he'll tough it out.

Before Marcille can stop herself she whips around to face him, "I knew it! You are hurt..." Her enthusiasm peters off and the red on her face intensifies as Chilchuck scrambles to cover his chest.

Chilchuck's sputtering a bit, scrambling for words to try and get across the exasperation, "I told you to be patient!"

For a brief moment there's silence.

And then.

"Do you want me to clean the wound?" She speaks almost too quietly for even Chilchuck to hear.

"It's fine, I'll manage." He keeps wrapping the gauze as he speaks, when Marcille steps closer he stops. With a heavy sigh, he speaks, "Look, you weren't supposed to find out, no one was. So let's forget about it. Let's both just forget this ever happened so you can go live your good life with Falin, sound good?"

Marcille shook her head, "I can't, I can't let you risk getting an awful infection and dying a slow death."

"Oh yeah? How come?" Chilchuck questioned as he watched Marcille step forward again. He tries to step back but he's been thoroughly cornered to the ledge, he knows that if he steps any further he'll fall in.

"You're my teammate."

"You never spared a glance at me once."

"I didn't know you were, were, you were-"

"A woman?"

"You weren't supposed to be."

"Yeah, I don't get as many jobs with my tits out."

The crassness makes Marcille go even brighter red, it makes Chilchuck smirk. She waves it off, "Just! Let me help."

He hesitates, "Fine."

And with slow motions he undoes the wraps just enough to let the wound be exposed. It lays below the clavicle and Marcille's hands are soft as they trace over his skin far too slowly. He tenses as well kept nails brush over the edge of the scab and pry the bits of gauze and discoloured dry blood.

His blood is red and her hands are pale. The contrast is staggering and he tries his best not to watch because this isn't right. Something is screaming at him that this isn't right or good or lawful because she wasn't supposed to know unless she asked. And he wasn't supposed to be walked in on while he was washing off and changing his wraps-

"Do you want me to call you she?"

Chilchuck goes rigid, shoulders raising and eyes widening.

"Got it, not she."

"You're the second person to ask me that after my wife."

"Oh."

"You haven't earned the right yet." A choked sound slips out as the magic weaves through his flesh and purges it of the potential infection. She retracts her hands and he tries not to reach out for them in response to the motion, "Not yet at least."

Her eyes aren't on his, he can't tell if they're cast to the floor or not. He reaches to fully wrap his chest up again, gauze unfurling to lock himself back up again. The way he should be, it's safer, it's better, it got him three kids who he misses dearly and more jobs than he'd ever needed.

"You look pretty," Marcille confessed, ears drooped just a bit. She feels like she shouldn't be saying it.

Chilchuck gives an amused huffing sort of laugh, "Ya think?"

She nodded.

"It's not just because I'm shirtless is it?" As he speaks he tugs his shirt back on, along with his scarf. He just stuffs his leather over armour in his bag, too stuffy to wear it now that he's hot under the collar.

That gives her pause, "Well-"

Chilchuck sighed, "Think before you speak, don't give an older gal hope."

-/-/-/-

There's an undeniable itch deep inside of Chilchuck's bones and he can't place his finger on it, can't tear himself open to satiate it. He just feels nauseated, vaguely dizzy, and his stomach is in intensive knots no matter what he does to quell it. Cramps? No, no he took his contraceptives.

Did he?

Fucking hell, did he?

He can't remember and he can't ask Senshi to cook up something that'll help with cramping because he'll lose respect if he's outed as a woman. He thinks. He presumes. Senshi's a nice guy, has lots of respect for Marcille, a classically womanly woman.

Chilchuck? Not a classically womanly woman. He'll be disowned, or called a fraud, something awful is bound to happen. But someone is bound to notice that he's lagging behind and in what can only be described as agony, and if its Laois, he'll definitely be diagnosed with a deadly disease of some sort.

Please let there be a natural hot spring somewhere, anywhere nearby. He won't be able to actually have a soak if the guys insist on joining but at least the heat would be a comfort.

Chilchuck dropped down next to the fire, "Hey, Senshi, what's for dinner?"

"Sautéed vegetables, it's a simpler dish compared to what we usually have. But sometimes a light dish is good after excessive amounts of complex dishes." As he speaks he tosses in a handful of diced herbs, "I might check for mushrooms around the springs once Marcille is done in there."

"There's actually a spring down here?" He sounds a bit more excited than he should, not even a floor back did he take a soak. But he yearns for the warmth like a cat yearns for the sun.

Senshi gives a nod, "Yep, great place. Two pools with a bit of a stalagmite barrier between them, quite nice. I set up some lanterns a while back, it's a quaint little section."

"Call me when dinners done, I'm taking a soak." He hiked up his backpack before trotting off to where he can hear Marcille's heartbeat and the slight ripple of water. Sure, he has to strain to hear it a bit, but he picks it out.

-/-/-/-

"Chilchuck, is that you?" Marcille asked from behind the stalagmite wall.

A pause, "Yeah."

"You don't have to be on that side, what if Senshi or Laois comes by?"

"I still have my shirt on, I'm just enjoying the heat."

"Oh."

"Lemme tell ya one thing about being a butch, Marcille." For a moment he wonders if he should give her the spiel he gave Meijack, but he chooses against it. No, no Marcille would know by now. Surely she's met normal butches before? Regardless, he sits against the stalagmite border and speaks, "After sixteen plus years of keeping your real self effectively hidden, you learn better than to make such basic blunders."

She sinks below the water briefly and the silence makes Chilchuck almost uncomfortable.

"I appreciate the concern."

"You can do that on this side of the divider."

"But what if Senshi or Laois arrived? Wouldn't look very good if I was peeping on ya, that'd ruin my reputation."

"But-"

"Marcille. I'm fine not getting in the water."

She stands up and ah ha, she's taller than the divider. And when Chilchuck tilts his head back to face her he can see so much of everything above the belt. Red rises to his face faster than it should and for some reason he can feel his jaw go slack as he stares.

Before even more precious seconds can pass he's jolting away. She leans on the border as best she can, arms crossed over her chest. He swallows thickly as he glances up again to meet her eyes.

"You're in pain," She declared.

"So what if I am?" He countered.

"Look, I read somewhere that Half-Foots get it particularly bad compared to other races due to their size influencing pain tolerance and durability. I've seen you hobble and you curl up in a ball and grovel when you're trying to fall asleep."

"Are you asking me to get naked and take a dip with you?" He tries to cut down his own embarrassment with vulgarity that usually makes Marcille squirm.

"So what if I am? It's only to try and help you out, I'm a girl too ya know."

"I know."

"Then how come you're so hesitant?"

"Reasons."

"You're still not over your wife."

"Don't pry, Marcille, it's rude."

Marcille steps back and sinks back into the water, "Whatever."

Only a brief moment of pause has to pass before Chilchuck stands up and walks over to the divider. He leans on it for a moment, "Look, I guess I could join you."

Marcille spins around to face Chilchuck, "Really?"

"Yes, really. Just, don't make such a big deal out of it."

-/-/-/-

It happens so much faster than he can keep track, maybe he's getting too old for this 'falling in love' thing. He's got three kids, he's definitely too old for this.

Maybe the heats clouding his mind, the temperature a comfort soothing his frayed nerves. His wraps are still on but they're coming off, slowly unfurling as the heat threatens to suffocate him with the way it's tied too tight. And Marcille is staring, mostly submerged, but eyes just above enough that she can watch.

"Marcille, don't make it weird." It's more of a demand than a plea but he can't tell if the heat on his face is from being perceived or from being in the hot spring.

"Sorry," Marcille mutters the word as she presses herself against the ledge, hair scattered around her like tentacles or silk woven from gold.

Chilchuck can't decide which comparison works better.

...

. . .

Marcille gives a short hum, "You look pretty."

The heat is stripping away his inhibitions.

"You look pretty too, unfairly so."

She edges ever closer to him, not sliding along the rocky bench-like formation of the spring, but pushing off.

"You think?"

Chilchuck nods, watching as Marcille glides closer with the grace of a mermaid.

"I don't think," He said, voice slow, voice low. Dropped lower than usual, a slanty smirk on his face. He leans forward a bit, "I know."

"You know?" Closer, closer, closer. She's so close but she's so far and the clock is ticking but time is coming to a screeching halt.

"Oh believe me I do, Marcille." He slinks down from where he sat to meet her halfway across. It's a small basin anyways, but it feels so much larger when the tension and the steam blends into one and he goes blind. He keeps his hands to his sides instead of reaching out because if he missteps with his motions then everything will go downhill.

She isn't afraid. That or she's just not thinking properly. Her hands are soft when they come to rest on his shoulders, one sliding up to the side of his neck. He leans into it a little bit, "Then that would make you one of the hottest ladies I've met."

Chilchuck laughed, "You thought I was a guy, do I really count, Marcille?"

"Now you do."

As she leans forward her hair falls, caging Chilchuck in and locking the door but hey, who is he to complain when it feels so good to give in? To get what he wants, it feels so good. Like fire. He's drowning in flames.

Her other hand works its way to the small of his abdomen and slides up to unfurl the gauze fully. It shocks a gasp out of him and further she presses onward, no inhibitions, no fear, no hesitance. What is she running on right now? What is in her head? What the fuck is making her do this, but holy shit, he does not want her to stop.

Eventually her hands are in her hair and pulling just a bit but her hands stray just a bit and he lurches back. Shoving her off at the shoulders and stumbling, he scrambles to retrieve his wraps.

"What the fuck, Marcille!" Maybe he's a bit louder than he needs to be but he needs to get the point across, "There are, there are boundaries."

It takes her a moment before her face goes bright red and her ears droop, "Oh god."

"It's not fine, but, it's not bad either." Chilchuck is rebinding himself as he speaks but he's still trying to ease the shattered mood, soften the blow. Don't be a douche, you can turn someone down nicely, but he isn't trying to turn her down either. He just needs to slow this down, way down, to a snails pace.

"I don't know what got into me, Chilchuck, I'm so sorry-"

"Marcille! It's alright." He steps close enough to reach out, hands held above the water. He gives a small nod and she places hers atop his, "It's okay, I don't mind fucking, but can we not do it right now with zero warning?"

Marcille nods, "Sorry."

"Stop saying sorry, it makes you sound like a coward," Chilchuck said, voice firm but with a hint of affection lacing it, "And you're not."

A small smile tugs at Marcille's lips, "Alright, thanks, Chilchuck."

-/-/-/-

Chilchuck sleeps without his wraps that night because they got soaked and he was running low anyways. When Laois asked Chilchuck didn't answer, when Senshi asked Chilchuck didn't answer. He didn't owe them an answer even if their assumptions would probably be way off.

They just come up to him one morning and offer to cut his tits off, he'd probably keel over laughing if that happened. His wondering of what's going to happen is very brief when he finds Marcille standing next to his bedding. She drops down to her knees, fingers curled to press nails into palm.

"Yeah, Marcille?" Chilchuck asked gently as he sat up. He stretched his arms over his head and fuck, his spine hasn't felt like that in years.

"Could we share a sleeping bag tonight?"

"What?"

Marcille stands up, "Nevermind."

"No, Marcille. What's wrong? Tell me what happened," He speaks sluggishly, a tired inflection to his tone.

"It's dumb."

"We almost had sex in the hot springs, that was dumb."

Marcille drops to sit down next to Chilchuck, "It was about Falin, we couldn't save her."

"It'll be fine, we're gonna save her. I promise." He's making wild promises. Ones he can't pull through on. But ones that he needs to make to get through the night breathing easy.

He places his hand on Marcille's back and she leans heavily into him, "I miss Falin."

Oh.

He's a rebound.

That's... fine, he knew from the start it'd never work out anyways. Why hope that it might because she kissed him? Why hope for something farther out of reach than the stars? He's dumb, he's an idiot, he isn't even a hopeful one.

This dungeon is getting to him, to fall for Marcille and be stupid enough to think that she'd mean it in any way more than deprived desperation. He still steels himself and hums along, "I miss her too." It feels like he's being stabbed as a much delayed realization hits him, the words falling out of him feel like blood being hacked up.

[docholligay]

Yellowjackets Episode 2.5: Misty

Hello! This is about up to Season 2, Episode 5 of Yellowjackets, and ONLY that of Yellowjackets. I have not seen beyond this spot, at all, and know NOTHING about this show. Please do not spoil it for me.  Things that are spoilery in nature, for me, include: saying things like  “Just wait!!” confirming or denying anything I put forward, outside information about the cast interviews or creator statements, leading questions like “Do you think “blank moment” means anything?” etc. Remember  that Y’ALL HAVE SEEN THE SHOW AND I HAVE NOT. This informs the way you  talk about things relating to the show. Just be really careful is all  I’m asking. Also: If there is LITERALLY any stance I  could take on this show or character that would make you upset, please  just fucking block the tag

If you WOULD like to discuss the show and my takes on it, the Discord is right here! I don’t go there, so it’s a great place to get every emotion out.

Please thank @sailorsunspot and @moonlight-frittata for backing this odd way of doing a liveblog, and remember my tip jar is always open

Misty is beginning to learn that she herself was not unloveable, but the atrocities that she will commit in the pursuit of affection will make her so. Misty is ruthless. There is something wrong with Misty. Misty knows it too! Misty knows she is fundamentally somehow different from the other girls, and not in the mysterious and deep way we all imagine ourselves to be fundamentally different from others, but something that keeps her from connecting. 

But it’s not that she’s awkward. She has to see that now, that she is awkward, and she is still in love with Jack Kevorkian, and she is singing musicals, and there was always someone there who could match her. Crystal was just waiting for her, however odd we might find it that they never met up before. 

But what DOES make Misty unloveable? What DOES separate her from others? It’s the darkness in her. Misty could be one of those people who pretends for the rest of her life that it was only her nerdiness that kept her from others, but the reality of the situation is that many people just as awkward and nerdy as her have many many human connections. But Misty is something else. She has it in her to destroy the thing that might have saved them, in pursuit of being treated as useful. Misty is willing to ruin other people’s lives, and take them, in order to have friends. It’s as desperate as a teenage girl can get, and she made the mistake of thinking that was relatable. Of thinking that was understandable. 

And so she loses Crystal. The only friend she’s had in many years, at least, and someone who accepted the parts of Misty that are too miuch for other people. Misty has to let go of the lie, that she might have told herself when she was older, that it was all because she was too much. Girl, i am too much for my friends often NOW. I am overeager and excitable as fuck. I occasionally get my feeling hurt. But I have plenty of friends. Because people will forgive you awkwardness and oddness, but they will not forgive inhumanity. Not cruelty, but something that suggests you are a different kind of person. 

Misty is now so far away from the group that no matter how useful she becomes--and useful is different from loved--no one will ever look at her as a friend. And we see that in present day Misty! We see that she is uniquely alone among the yellowjackets. She INVENTS this loving relationship with Natalie basically wholesale. 

This is why she’ll never play that kind of game, two truths and a lie. Because she knows that ever telling the truth about herself is a surefire way to lose anything she’s managed to grab hold of. The truths she tells Walter are little facts about her. They aren’t TRUTHS. 

Truly interesting, though, the way he drops that there’s only ever one rule: Win. Because this isn’t that far off from Misty’s point of view, or at least the way she chooses to practice it. Do we think that he actually does tell her only the truth? I’m not sure I do believe that. I’m not sure it matters, when it comes down to it. The whole thing with Walter is so interesting, because she resents him, in a way, for being someone who seemingly loves her as the liar and monster she is. I can’t wait to see where we go with that. 

(side note: really really clever of them to have her glaze over when Stayin Alive is playing with Walter, flashing her back to Crystal’s death. I didn’t catch it til I was rewatching for like, third time, for these essays)