#I am really excited about this idea and have no one to talk to about it so I guess now that's you. ^^

[gloomwitchwrites]

Poppy~!! I saw that you're taking requests now and I wanted to know, if reader had to pretend to be the spouse of a 141 member for a brief undercover mission, how do you think that would go? 🤭 I'm thinking maybe someone has a love they think is unrequited until they discover it isn't, someone else was indifferent to the act but ended up enjoying the scenario too much, another one maybe was just waiting for a chance to pin you down and this is a prime opportunity, and maybe someone else was already involved in a secret relationship and now they're "married", so it works out perfectly? Idk idk, this is my first time requesting anything from you and I am just so excited to see where you would take this idea! Thank you so much for your time, love ya!! 💖

Anon, I know you asked for this forever ago, but I never forgot about it! I certainly went the naughty route with this one. I hope that's okay! These men are thirsty, and they're salivating over the opportunity to be flirty and forward. Enjoy!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x 141!fem!reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, brief alcohol use, flirting, vaginal fingering, piv penetration, sex club, fake relationships, mutual pining, dirty talk, voyeurism

Word Count: 2.4k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“You clean up nice.”

“Not so bad yourself.”

Captain Price’s smile is sultry and glowing, his gaze hungrily devouring every inch of you. This is a mission. This man is your superior. And yet he’s always John to you. Your John. The man you love and secretly meet when others aren’t around.

Over his shoulder the setting sun bathes the ocean in a beautiful orange, almost as if the water is on fire. The two of you linger on a balcony overlooking the ocean, pretending that the two of you are married and in simple conversation. Within is a party. Live music. An open bar with flowing liquor. Waiters with hor d'oeuvres.

Malta is beautiful. It might be summer, but the air is surprisingly cool. The salty breeze sticks to your skin. John reaches out, brushes away a few salty flecks with the pad of his thumb. He brings it to his mouth, moaning softly.

“Be professional,” you scold with a teasing smile.

“I am,” he croons. “To them, you’re my wife.” He leans in, brushing his lips along your ear. “And my wife deserves attention.”

As his lips land on your throat, licking up the bit of wayward ocean salt, John’s hand delicately grasps your ass, squeezing.

“We have a job to do,” you murmur, grasping his arm, giving him more of your throat.

“We have the whole week. Target isn’t going anywhere. Not when he’s the honored guest.”

“Champagne?”

John draws back, shifting his stance to block your view of the waiter. “Thanks, mate,” grins John, snagging two flutes. He offers you one.

“This isn’t a vacation,” you chide, taking the flute. The bubbly liquid bursts and fizzes on your tongue.

“We’re in Malta. Staying in a castle. And I get to spend the week referring to you as my wife.” John takes your hand, his thumb brushing over the gold band on your finger. “Think I like this.”

“You think?”

John glances up, and your heart stops. “Would you like that? Wearing a band that marks you as mine?”

“John,” you breathe.

“Say yes,” he murmurs. “And we’ll go back to the room right now.”

“You’d risk the mission just to fuck me?”

“No question, love.”

John’s hand descends again, cupping your ass, squeezing roughly. “If you don’t want to go back to the room and fuck—”

“Oh, stop,” you giggle, smacking his chest.

“—then how about we have a dance.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

Your cheeks flame as you turn away from the faces in the room.

It’s not that any of them are really looking at you, or where Johnny’s hand is, or what he’s doing with his fingers. Nearly everyone else in the room is doing something lecherous—something dirty. Johnny is simply fitting in, pushing the agenda, making those around him believe that he’s fingering his wife and not his fucking teammate.

“You’re a fucking lucky man.”

You roll your eyes, and then stifle a moan as Soap pinches your clit between thumb and forefinger.

“Oh, aye,” croons Johnny, nipping your earlobe. “The luckiest.”

Burying your face in Soap’s neck, your breathing quickens, nails digging into his shoulder. A little moan escapes you, but it’s eclipsed by others who are much louder.

This wasn’t part of the mission. The mission was to attend this gathering, for Soap to be nothing more than a businessman seeking a lucrative deal, and you nothing more than his pretty arm candy. What wasn’t supposed to happen was a fucking orgy.

The target in question is sitting in a lounge chair next to Johnny, his mistress in his lap, legs spread open so the whole room can see her bouncing on his cock. They aren’t the only ones engaged in sexual activity. Most of the room is doing something, or they’re watching.

Noticing the shift, Johnny had dragged you into his lap, situating you so that he could easily finger-fuck you but no one would be receiving a show. For that, you’re thankful, but fuck, you weren’t expecting this, let alone enjoying it as much as you are.

With perfect precision, Soap rocks two fingers in and out of your pussy, his thumb rubbing your clit in tandem with his movements. The orgasm sprouts, blooms, explodes in color. You bite down on Soap’s shoulder to muffle the cry.

“She’s a lovely thing,” the target groans, and the blissful mood dissipates.

“Careful,” growls Soap. “That’s my wife you’re talking about.”

You’re fake wife, you mentally correct. But you smile, preening with the way Soap stakes a claim.

Johnny’s hand starts up again, and you shiver.

“You’re doing so well, lass,” he whispers against your ear. “So fucking tight.” Your pussy clenches around his fingers, and Soap groans.

With his other hand, Johnny tugs at the front of his pants, opening the fly. Reaching down, you slip your hand underneath, grasping his cock. Johnny’s eyelids flutter, and when he looks at you, you understand the silent communication. Like everyone else in this room, the two of you will be expected to fuck.

Better him than a stranger.

Johnny helps, bringing you into his lap as your stroke him to hardness. This will never leave this room. You will never mention this to the rest of the team. As you sink down on him, Soap adjusts your dress, covering what’s happening beneath. You grasp the back of his neck, using it as leverage to come down on him as he pumps up into you.

You press your forehead against his, exchanging breaths.

“Making a proper wife of you,” he teases.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” you smile.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“We look good together.”

Kyle’s comment catches you off-guard. “What?” you laugh, pressing your hand to your fluttering stomach.

He saunters up beside you, lowering his head in an intimate familiarity. “Captain made the right call. Putting us together.”

You giggle, lightly pushing him with a carefully placed hand to the middle of his chest. “It’s pretend, Kyle. We’re bugging the place and then we’re leaving.”

“We can have a bit of fun,” he smiles, tapping the tip of your nose. “We’re married.”

His teasing and playful smile is warming something low in your belly. You’ve always had a soft spot for Garrick, but you’ve never pushed it any further than some light teasing.

“Fake married, sergeant.”

Kyle drapes his arm around your back and over your hip, pulling you in close. “Need to act like we love each other.” Slowly, and with such affection your heart skips a beat, Kyle presses his lips to your throat.

You twist out of his grasp, flustered and overwhelmed by the attention. But Kyle is all smiles, reaching for you again as the two of you walk up to the house. An “Open House” sign with an array of balloons is out front. Several groups of couples and realtors in suits linger out front chatting about the lawn. The house itself is large, bordering on mansion.

But you and Kyle aren’t there to house shop.

This home is owned by a wealthy businessman. He used to make his money on real estate, but now he’s shifted into drugs and weaponry. More lucrative. Under the table. This home is just one of many targets. The goal is to bug it.

There might be a “for sale” sign out front, but it’s for show. The property already has a buyer. This is just to make it look legit.

“Welcome. I’m Heather.”

Heather, the realtor, extends her hand. Kyle accepts it, keeping his other hand attached to your lower back.

“It’s a beautiful home,” replies Kyle. “Eager for a look.”

Heather beams. “It really is stunning, isn’t it?”

“How big are the bedrooms?” asks Kyle. “Plan on growing our family. Space is important.”

“You’ll love the master. Lots of room,” replies Heather, gesturing toward the open front door. “The rest of the bedrooms have a good range in size to be used as bedrooms for children. Office space. A nursery.”

“Hear that, love,” smiles Kyle. “Lots of options.”

“Sounds like we need to take a look,” you say with an easy smile, leaning into Kyle’s arm.

“Grab a refreshment and explore. Let me know if you have any questions.”

“Thank you,” nods Kyle, urging you further into the house.

When the two of you are out of earshot, you pinch his arm. “You’re having far too much fun.”

Kyle chuckles. “Don’t like the idea of me knocking you up?”

“Kyle,” you hiss, smacking his arm.

“They’d be cute little buggers.”

You smack him again.

“Could start now.”

You playfully dart away. “We have a house to bug,” you hiss.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“He likes a show.”

“I know,” you murmur, pressing closer to Simon’s chest.

He’s being a gentleman about the whole fucking thing, and for that, you’re thankful, but neither of you expected this when you agreed.

“Won’t come otherwise. Need him alone.”

You sigh, tapping your forehead against Simon’s bare chest repeatedly. “Why did he have to be a voyeur.” Simon’s rumbling chuckle is soothing.

He runs his hands up and down your back. “Promise I’ll be gentle.”

“Gentleness isn’t what I’m worried about,” you murmur. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

Simon’s arms tighten around you, his tone dropping to a teasing tone. “Think I won’t make you come?”

You bark a laugh, and then stifle it by smothering your face into his chest. “You’re not funny.”

“It’s only for a bit.” Simon grasps the back of your neck, drawing you back so he can gaze into your eyes. “All they know is that we’re married and we like it when people watch. Which is why the target is interested. We need him to watch us. To get comfortable. Let his guard down. The team will swoop in and take care of the rest.”

You inhale deeply. “I’m ready.”

“Are you?”

You nod, and Simon draws your mouth to his. It’s tender. Soft. A ghost of a touch. You open for him, and Simon dives in, tongue meeting tongue. You grow dizzy. Light-headed. When he breaks the kiss, you almost stumble.

Simon smirks. “You can pretend that you like me.”

“Let’s get this over with.”

You grasp his hand, pushing back the black curtain, revealing the dimly lit room. The edges of the room are all in shadow, but in the center, where the lone light illuminates, is an elevated platform. It’s covered in plush black velvet and pillows. An altar. You lead Simon to it, swaying your hips in a slow dance.

Just as you turn toward Simon, you glimpse the target seated in the corner. Most of his face is obscured, but you recognize the shape. If Simon notices him, he doesn’t show it. His attention is fully on you, his dark eyes burning behind the half-skull mask. You have a matching one, also in black to pair with the lace bralette and panties.

Simon’s hands are everywhere, grasping, touching. His lips find yours, and you sink into him, trying to focus only on him. That is the point after all, to pretend that he’s your husband, that you’re here for him to fuck you in front of others.

And that’s exactly what he does.

The intensity in which Simon puts you on your back, strokes your legs, and opens you wide is more than a job. He is worshiping you, lips traversing over every inch, hands touching everything. You groan and gasp, arching into his embrace, crying out when his tongue finds your sensitive clit.

You don’t care that there are others in the room. That you’re being watched. It’s nice, actually, to be desired in both ways.

“Taste so good,” groans Simon, running his tongue over your pussy.

You’re lost in him, and when Simon ascends to slot is cock at your entrance, your legs fall wider. Hooking his arms around your legs, Simon thrusts relentlessly, each connection pushing bright bursts of air from your lungs.

The pleasure of him inside you is so profound, that you don’t realize the room is being stormed by men in tactical gear until Simon throws himself atop you, shielding your body from view. He acts protective, and in moments the room clears, and the target is dragged away. You cling to him, unmoving, both of you breathing heavy.

“We should go, shouldn’t we?” you ask after a few lengthy seconds. Simon remains where he is, unmoving. His cock is still inside you. “Simon?”

His lips find yours again, and then he’s thrusting, lifting you against him. “Need to finish pleasing my wife.”

“Simon. I’m not your wife,” you whimper as he grinds his hips against you.

“Oh, love. You could be.”

[sexyandcringe]

As much as you love to spend time with Suna Rintarou, you hate asking for it.

And as much as you hate asking for it, you still catch yourself tapping on his name, texting him to let him know you are free for the day because your friends ditched you.

Y/N: Yo, my girls went to war and left me alone and broken (they ditched me), wanna bangout?

Y/N: I meANT HANGOUT***

Y/N: We can bang too, though. Later.

It takes him around 10 minutes to reply, just as you’re about to hop in the shower.

Rin: Sure, let’s do that

Rin: When are you coming?

Y/N: I’ll take a quick shower and i’ll be over?

Rin: Bet. Text me when you done.

You leave a thumbs up reaction and head into the shower, already excited by the idea of meeting up with Rintarou.

It’s been a year now — this messy, no-strings, fwb thing you’ve got going; And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like him, but these kind of things never end well for you, so you keep it casual, hit him up when you need some company (or a good fuck). it’s not like you don’t have a life; you’ve got your friends, your books to read, a job to do. You’re good on your own. 

You know Rintarou is not one for anything serious, but he is a good guy overall. He doesn’t just reduce you to a fuck-buddy, he sees you as a friend and cares for you, like friends do, but that’s all you’ll ever be to him. A friend and a good fuck.

That doesn’t stop you from parking in front of his building, walking up to the third floor stairs because his lift is always fucking broken, and knocking on his door with a wide smile and a basket full of snacks.

“Hey loser,” you greet, holding up the basket, "Got you some snacks.” 

His face remains stoic, unimpressed as he stares at you, “Fruits are not snacks, Y/N.”

Your only reply is pushing him aside and stepping inside, putting the basket on his kitchen table like you own the place. Suna Rintarou may be a professional athlete, but you really have to put up a fight with him for him to eat some fruits, and this is one of your battle tactics.

“I climbed, like, a thousand stairs. gimme some water.” you demand, flopping down in a chair around the table,  playing with the little cat statue in the middle of it. The one you got him when you were in Milan — black and white, scowling with a tiny green collar. It looks just like him and you still think it’s one of the cutest gifts you got him.

He scoffs but heads to the fridge anyway, grabbing a bottle and pouring it into your heart-shaped glass. the one you made him swear not to let anyone else touch. it was your heart-shaped glass that you bought for yourself, and since Rintarou’s apartment is like a second home to you, leaving it here was just as natural as breathing. 

“Am i your slave now?” he grumbles, setting the glass in front of you.

You grin, “You love being my slave.” 

Rintarou swears he is going to wipe that stupid grin off your face soon. Tonight.

There is always something to talk about when you are with him.

The latest drama about his new manager, your neighbour who you are 100% sure is growing weed in their backyard, your coworker who might actually be satan in disguise; and when you run out of shit to say, you end up watching anime together, stealing each other’s snacks in-between kisses. All normal, absolutely nothing weird about kissing your homies on the lips, you tell yourself, especially if said homie is a complete hot mess of an athlete with the body of a Greek god and the most annoyingly perfect hands you’ve ever seen.

So every time you hang out with Rintarou, you end up with your limbs tangled with his, sharing heavy breaths at the rhythm of his heartbeat, and while you feel so full of him in those moments, he always leaves a hole bigger than before in the depth of your soul.

You’ve lost count of how many guys dumped your miserable ass with some variation of “you talk about suna too much”. Like you could just turn your heart off for him on command.

Not that any of them gave a shit about you either — most of them just wanted a warm body for the night, which, honestly, is probably all you’re good for.

Sometimes you wonder if Rin also sees you just as a piece of meat.

Maybe he’s just really good at acting like a friend.

You tell your friends that it’s just physical and there’s no way you’d fall for someone like him, but you can’t tell them that the idea of him seeing you just as a good fuck and nothing more hurts you more than it should do.

“i’m going to italy in a few weeks,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed next to your half-asleep body, a strawberry lollipop lazily tucked between his lips.

You remove your sheets and sit up slowly before replying: “Okay.”

It’s going to be okay. It’s not the first time he’s gone out of the country, and he always comes back to you, be it in a month or two. You’ve done it before, you can do it this time too. It’s not a big-

“I don’t know when i’ll be back.”

Silence.

Usually, you’re good at hiding your feelings from him, keeping them caged under your throat, unspoken truths that you gulp down like heavy crumbs, but today you are doing a terrible job at that.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” It slips out a little too rough for your liking, a little too desperate.

“I got a sponsorship for an italian team and I want to see where this takes me. If it doesn’t work out in Italy I may shift to Spain or Sweden like Kageyama. I don’t think I’ll be back for a while.” He quickly glances at you, as if scared to meet your eyes. fucking coward.

You sit in silence, letting his words sink, letting the emotions stabilize and settle down for once.

You nod, “I see, i get it.”

You don’t. You don’t get it at all, any of it, but you can’t let him see you this weak.

You pick up your things, from the underwear thrown across the room to the toothbrush you left in his bathroom. You kiss him one last time, a simple peck on the lips - soft, quick, nothing like you want it to be, but you hope it will leave his lips burning, and you wave him goodbye, trying your best not to look at the broken expression he’s giving you. You can’t.

Driving back to your house feels sour and empty and when you open the door to your room the first thing you see is a small polaroid on your nightstand, a picture of Rin lying in the grass, smiling wide, while Luffy, his corgi, lays atop of him, snuggling his nose in it’s owner’s neck, and then there’s you, a blur of hands and open mouth at the edge of the frame because you couldn’t make it in the picture. Yet, it was one of the prettiest pictures you’ve ever taken of Rintarou.

You stare at it long enough to feel your heart cracking bit by bit.

And you break.

Reblogs are really appreciated!

[nellie-elizabeth]

This was the first full episode of the show I watched, and I'm really excited to get back to it as I watch through chronologically! What I was so impressed by in the whole episode was the details of their intimacy, the cleverness and subtlety of the writing. Like, not to over-explain what's happening in this moment, but I kinda want to break this down.

Starsky says "You got any plans after this is over?" and the premise of the banter, as it were, is that he's making "small talk," saying the same kind of thing he might say casually at work, akin to "what are you up to this weekend."

And Hutch, he matches his energy but he tosses the ball directly back to Starsky to hit the punchline. He doesn't answer the question with a jokey fake small talk answer. Instead he says "it's up to you."

Which works on like, so many different levels for me? For one, it's Hutch just being sweet, telling Starsky that his plans are with Starsky, whatever they are. He could have deflected, but he affirms that he wants to spend his free time with Starsky. For another, he's implicitly referencing the fact that being here in this restaurant where things have gone so catastrophically wrong, was Starsky's idea, and affirming that he'd still defer to him to make plans. And then on the more serious level underneath the premise of the joke, Hutch is serious: what happens after this is wholly dependent on if Starsky is okay or not. If he makes it through this, if they both make it through this. Hutch's plans, both immediate and long-term, are completely up to Starsky in a very real sense.

And then Starsky hits us with the Butch & Sundance reference, which, you know, famously queer coded, along with being a response to Hutch's statement: Starsky, too, plans on doing whatever comes next with Hutch. The plans they make, they make together. And Hutch gives the sweetest little laugh, such open affection on his face! Starsky makes jokes because it's his only way of taking care of his partner when he's in this vulnerable state, and Hutch is being so terribly gentle with Starsky while still participating in their back-and-forth. If the banter stops, that's the sign that things are actually dire.

The bit at the end of this episode when Starsky makes a joke about Hutch getting his teeth capped, and then retracts the joke just before Hutch goes out to confront the armed baddies alone, is a good continuation of the rhythm they have going on in this ep. They keep things light and superficial in order to keep each other calm, but by the end of this episode shit is dire enough that Starsky can't keep the banter going.

When I first watched this episode, I didn't know these characters yet. I was (and am) still so new to the show. But even on that first viewing I remember being impressed by the economy of storytelling and relationship building that was happening in little moments like this. The whole show is built out of scenes between the two leads that work this way, multi-layered and performed with an impressive amount of subtlety and power. Obviously it's the domain of fandom to overthink the media we consume, to pick at little moments and dissect them beyond any possible intended meaning. But this show... man, it holds up under that scrutiny, in so many ways big and small.

[sturniolobananas1]

chapter 1.. heather.

He was my crush since 3rd grade, also my childhood bestfriend. i never though i could envy another girl so much.

Let's start from the beginning.

word count: 1116

warnings: none!

☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎

Sunday, November 23rd, 11:56 pm.

I was simply sitting on my couch, not expecting anyone to bother me at this time, but then I got the dm..

[Chris:

hey, can i come over so we can talk?

i have something on my mind.

[Stella:

yeah, of course. come on over.

are you okay?

[Chris:

yes, i just have an idea.

[Stella:

okay! im excited. see you soon.

------

its nearly 12 am and my crush since 3rd grade texted me. i cant tell whether i should be excited or scared. chris has always been the kindest person to my family and i. we were best friends, since childhood. but i cant seem to get rid of my guilty crush on him.

knock knock

hes here... i walk to the door and open it slowly.

"hey chris!" i say happy to see him. "hey stell." he says back opening his arms for a hug. whenever he calls me that, it gives me butterflies. other guys around school caught onto the nickname and tried to call me it. chris would always get protective and tell them that was his name for me. i loved that about him.

"come on in." i say backing into the house opening the door some more, guiding him to the living room.

"so, whats on your mind?" i say adjusting myself by putting a pillow under my chin.

"so, you know about my crush on tessa?" he says looking at me.

"of course!" i say back getting used to the feeling in my stomach when he says her name.

"i sort of have a plan and i only trust you with it." he says smiling feeling confident in his progress.

"okay, what is it?" i ask sincerely.

"so uh- i was thinking maybe we could fake date, uh- just to kinda make tessa jealous?" he says reluctantly.

"oh, i mean yeah, im okay with that! it kinda sounds fun to be honest." i say, and it really does sound fun, fake dating my crush? of course im going to accept. but... its obviously all a game, and i wont let it get to me anymore than that.

"wait, actually?" he says practically jumping onto me.

"yeah!" i say as he grabs under my arms lifting me, also spinning. "omg, i love you so much stella! im so lucky to have you as a friend." he says setting me down. "yeah, a friend, uh- you too!" i say looking back up at him. chris kisses my forehead. "thank you stell, really." he says. "of course chris." i say smiling.

i guide him to the door, wondering what will happen next.

"bye!" we say at the same time. we both smile. "what time do you get on the bus?" he asks me. "5:42." i say, being one of the earliest people to get picked up. "damn." he says shaking his head. "well, sleep in, ill be here at 6:40." he says getting back into his car.

as chris drives off, i jump up and down, with a wide smile on my face.

-----

Monday, November 24th, 6:00 am.

DING DING DING

"oh, shut up." i say to my phone, clicking the dismiss button. i slowly sit up, and see the time. "6:00?! SHIT!" i say jumping out of bed. i remember that chris is picking me up in 40 minutes. "damn i was scared to death for a minute there." i say to myself.

i slowly look through my closet, and see the necklace chris got for me last year on my birthday, what a great way to start off our relationship.. our fake relationship. i suddenly feel upset, but keep pushing because i cant miss school. i find an old pair of jeans, and a blue striped sweater. "this will just have to work." i mumble to myself slowly getting dressed. i throw on simple makeup, and go to my kitchen pacing back and forth with the fridge open not being able to decide whether to eat yogurt, or a granola bar.

i ended up picking the yogurt with granola on top, a great way to compromise. i finish with 15 minutes left. i drink a cup of milk, scrolling on tiktok trying to distract myself from the situation im in. then, i hear a ding.

[Chris:

hey, im here!

[ Stella:

omw out :)

----

i start to panic, and remember its just chris, my bestfriend also my crush.. nothing else. i walk out of the door and see him leaning against his car, opening the door. "chris what are you doing.." i say smirking, shaking my head. "opening the door for my girlfriend.. duh." he says with attitude.

"how did you sleep?" he says, starting to drive off. "good!" i say back enthusiastically. "how about you?" i ask in response. "i slept good." he says smiling. "so how are we going to do this?" i say with a tone that expresses my confusion. "i guess we'll walk together in the halls, and hold hands?" he says looking over at me for approval. "yeah, that sounds good.. uh, do you think anyone will catch on?" i say. "i mean its very possible, but weve known eachother for so long so it kinda makes sense." he says trying to focus on the road. "yeah, true. can i play music?" i say. "yeah! connect to bluetooth." he says pointing to the cars screen.

i connect and start my playlist. i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys play and i stiffen up, feeling nervous because of the song. chris starts to mumble along, grooving around. i assume he can feel the energy in the car shift.

----

as we arrive to school, everyone turns their heads watching chris open the door for me, and helping me out of the car. i step out, and he grabs my hand. "you okay?" he says. "yeah, this is kinda nice. you know, being to hang out more?" i say as we approach the door. "yeah, i agree." he says smiling. i see phones out, which isnt surprising because of the triplets job, their will be rumors, and hate going around soon enough.

chris walks me to my first hour, and slightly pecks my on the cheek. "see you soon, stell." he says smiling. "bye chris." i say getting butterflies.

----------------------------------

A/N:

sorry for taking forever i deleted a bunch of tries yesterday.

love yall!

@mattyummyy @mattscumdump @bernardsbendystraws @mattybsgroupie @yik3sssssss @hannahsturniolo @kenah-sturniolo @aaliyah-sturns @sturniolo-szn2 @elianamattlvr @eyesonmattyb

[shintaru]

🪼 m.list ♡ taglist ♡ recent fics 🪼

Synopsis ~ Y/N goes on a blind date with a guy who has a huge ego 🤢

A/N ~ this is my first blue lock fic if it’s too ooc I’m sorry I just got really excited to write one as I was catching up on the first season. I haven’t read blue lock in over 3 years so there is a lot I don’t remember. AHH HE IS SO FINE!

You’re sitting waiting at the restaurant that you didn’t want to go to in the first place but your cousin Anri insisted that you go on a blind date. She promised to set you up with a nice man your whole family has been in your case about when you’ll get married and when they’ll be receiving grandchildren. You’re not interested in dating, marriage or having children. You were only going on this date so they would ease up on you.

“Hopefully he’s a jerk so I can leave and have an excuse to reject him” you think to yourself. A y’all oddly skinny man sits across from you. You eye him up and down wondering what Anri saw in him. Why would she pick him as your blind date? He has this creepy vibe to him. He seems like the type to not care if he hurts anyone’s feelings. He clearly isn’t your time; you can’t stand nonchalant careless men.

“I’m Jinpachi Ego” he says, interrupting you from your judgmental thoughts that were wandering moments prior. “Ego? My cousin works for you… is that why she set me up with you?!” You ask. “She wanted me to do you a favor,” he replies. “She what?!” As if I’m doing your skinny ass a favor” you reply back gritting your teeth staring at him angrily. You can’t believe the nerve of this bastard.

“Fuck off” he replies. “What the fuck is wrong with him the you?” You felt like the vein in your forehead was going to pop and he was laughing hysterically at your reaction. “I said fuck off” he repeats him self. “Go fuck yourself asshole” you shout throwing the menu at him standing up heading towards the restaurants exit. “Enjoy your meal” you shout turing to look at him while giving him a middle finger.

Which only makes him laugh even more. “Interesting” he says smiling at you in asusment. The restaurant went silent for what felt like an eternity as you were exiting the establishment. The only sound that could be heard were a few gasps and occasionally whispers. You recall your cousin saying he was a nice man… “What a joke, nice my ass” you thought to yourself. You call a cab over and open the door preparing to get in when a long slender hand stops you by grabbing your wrist.

“Hey what the fuck is your problem?” You say while yanking your wrist out of his hold. “I’m… sorry” he says. “What was that?!” You reply. “Don’t make me say it again…” he says. He lets out a big sigh before placing his hand on his face and continuing “Anri will give me an earful if she finds out so let’s pretend like it was a good date” “I have a better idea” you say smiling.

“Pretend to be my boyfriend” you say looking up at him confine up with the perfect plan. “No” he says. “What? Why? It’s a good idea! Anri will leave us both alone if she is under the impression we are dating! It’s not like you’ll be my real boyfriend.” You say trying to convince him. “She will find out it’s pretty obvious we aren’t a couple” he says laughing. “What’s so funny?!” You ask him.

“I just can’t see you being in a relationship with that personality” he says continuing to laugh at you. “Oh really ?! You’re one to talk, yours is worse” you reply. “I have plenty of people wanting to date me” he says. “Yeah right and I’m married to Noel Noa it’s good to have some confidence but don’t lie” you say scoffing. You notice the mentioning of Noel’s name caught his attention but he doesn’t question your taste. “I’m not lying” he replies. “If you’re not lying then why am I on a blind day with you and not someone else” you ask.

He doesn’t say anything making you laugh in victory for the first time tonight. “Also I could be in a relationship. I just don’t want to be in one” you reply to his statement from earlier. “Yeah right” he says, mocking your response from before. “I can!” You say again. “Prove it” he says. “How the fuck can I prove that if I’m single?” You ask before you let him respond you pull him into a kiss by wrapping your hand around his tie and yanking him closer to you.

You pull away after you're satisfied and seeing the expression on his face was priceless. “HAHAHAHA you should see the look on your face!” You say while laughing. He quickly goes from being caught off guard back to his normal obnoxious self. “That doesn’t prove anything,” he says. “Maybe it doesn’t but it was worth it” you reply. He offers to give you a ride home while saying “I agree to your terms, meet me at blue lock during my lunch break and we will discuss the conditions” he says while getting in his car. “Jeez he makes it sound like a contract” you thought to yourself while you hop into the passenger's seat.

[passionxwrites]

Summer Romance 5

Pairings: ModernAU! Elias "Stack" Moore x BlaclOC! (Cymone) x Elijah "Smoke" Moore

Warnings: MDNI, cursing, use of the N word, violence, mentions of guns, fighting, Mary slander, a lil smooching, cliff hanger (don’t kill me!)

Word Count: 5.1K

Masterlist

Cymone

<1 week later>

Why the fuck do you keep getting drunk

And come tearing my shit up

You know that liquor turn you up

You done drove into my truck

I got a hole up in my truck

You a hoe but cold as fuck

And look at me still tryna fuck

Cymone hummed to the lyrics of Don Who Leo as she focused on applying her last lash cluster to her right eye. Tonight was finally the opening night of Club Juke and she was so excited for the twins. They had been working hard to make this dream come true for as long as she could remember and to see everything come to fruition was amazing. Smoke and Stack had already set up a section for her and her girls so she knew tonight was going to be lit. It was also going to be the first night she would spend at their place as well. Her stomach contained butterflies because although she had spent the night with a man before this was different of course. Smoke and Stack weren’t regular and she also wondered how it would work as well.

Whose room am I gone stay in?

Are we gone sleep together?

Are they gone wanna have sex?

Her mind was racing with possibilities and to be on the safe side she made sure to straighten up down below just in case action was to be had.

“What you thinking bout over there,” Reana asked as she emerged from Cymone’s bathroom.

“Just thinking bout tonight. That’s all,” Cymone answered with faux indifference although her stomach was twisting and turning.

“Awwww my baby’s nervous about her first sleepover with Zack and Cody.”

“Do you have a list of people in your head to call them,” Cymone asked with a snort as she turned her body away from her mirror to face her friend.

“Yes but that’s besides the point. Look, I know you a lil nervous cause you in this lil polyamorous situation but you know Smoke and Stack. They some gentlemen when they wanna be so I’m sure they ain’t gone do nothing you don’t wanna do,” Reana reassured Cymone as she gripped her shoulders.

“I know but the butterflies just keep floating around in my stomach just at the thought of something happening. I’m more so excited than nervous.”

“That’s great! Long as you not nervous. Now which one of these outfits are you wearing? I’m more partial to this halter jumpsuit,” Reana asked as she surveyed the three outfits laid onto Cymone’s bed. Cymone turned to the bed as placed a hand under her chin in thought.

“Hmmm I think imma do the leather shorts with the gold chain belt and the yellow crop top.”

“Okay leather shorts!! I think you need to wear them thigh high leather boots with em. Also I know what you doing with that yellow crop cause you always got underboob with that shirt. You giving it to em tonight!”

“Yeah it’s been a minute since I stepped out so I must remind these folks who I am. Good idea with them black boots though,” Cymone said she gave Reana a quick round of applause.

“Mhm! Now let’s hurry cause Tricia just texted saying her and Val gone be here in 20.”

Cymone immediately rushed to get ready. Thankfully she didn’t have to do her hair because she had recently gotten faux locs the day before and she was doing light makeup because she had a habit of sweating really bad and she knew the club was going to be packed. It had been the talk of the town and everybody and they mama planned on being there tonight.

Once she had her clothes on she packed a spend the night bag. She made sure to pack some pajamas, her hygiene stuff, an outfit for the next day and the lingerie Reana forced her to purchase and pack. In her words ‘you don’t need to be caught lacking.’ It was a simple red lace bra with matching panties but just looking at it had her nerves going haywire yet again. She shoved it in her bag and slung it over her shoulder just as she heard Tricia obnoxiously honking the horn from outside.

“Come on Re,” Cymone yelled behind her as she trotted down the stairs to see Ganny sitting on the couch with a glass of wine, her eyes trained on the television in front of her.

“We headed out Ganny. I’ll let you know when I get to Reana’s house.”

Now although Cymone was grown she didn’t have it in her to tell Ganny she was spending the night with a man let alone two so she decided to settle on a little white lie.

“Okay baby. Y’all be safe, have fun, and please keep an eye on Duke. You know how that boy can get,” Ganny spoke with a shake of her head.

Cymone only giggled knowing exactly what she meant. She was about to respond before the sound of Tricia honking that damn horn again cut her off.

“Y’all gone on before I have to cuss that lil girl out,” Ganny said as she put her eyes back on the tv. Cymone and Reana made their way out of the door and to Tricia’s gray Kia.

“Took y’all bitches long enough! What was y’all was doing sewing the clothes?”

“Tricia shut up damn! You was out here for a few measly ass minutes. Acting like you been sitting out here for an hour,” Cymone fussed with a roll of her eyes. She hated when Tricia volunteered to drive the group because she always wanted to rush everybody. Val’s quiet snicker could be heard from the front seat causing Tricia to snap her head her way while scoffing.

“Val I know you ain’t laughing!”

Valencia Yarbrough was the most recent addition to the group. While Cymone, Reana, and Patricia practically grew up together, they hadn’t met Valencia until their freshman year of college. Valencia was from Memphis, Tennessee and had came to attend Jackson State on a full ride scholarship. She was brought into the group due to her being Tricia’s roommate and she was a really sweet girl. She was smart as a whip so her head was always in her books but sometimes the girls were able to pull her away and get her out to a party every blue moon. This summer she opted to get a job in Jackson and rent an apartment with Tricia instead of going back home so that she could hang out with her girls without any academic responsibilities holding her back.

“Don’t yell at Val. You know you be needing somebody to check you Tricia. That mouth big as the Mississippi and you always running it,” Reana added as she applied her lip gloss while looking into her compact mirror. Tricia continued to sit there with a scowl on her face which brought Cymone amusement. Tricia was honestly a drama queen so the girls—besides Val—typically had to bring her back down to Earth. She would always pout about it for a few minutes and then be back laughing and playing around like she wasn’t mad. It was just how she operated. Val noticed the look on her face and opted to turn the radio back up until they made it to the club. Once they got there they all immediately groaned at how packed the parking lot was.

“Damn, we shoulda spent the night at this bitch,” Tricia cursed as she drove through aisle after aisle trying to find a spot.

“Smoke said we can park in the back next to him and Stack,” Cymone informed the group as she clicked her phone closed. Tricia made eye contact with her through the rear view with a small smirk on her face.

“Big Daddy Smoke making sure his lady don’t gotta park all the way in Egypt. I know that’s right,” she yelled out playfully while sticking out her tongue.

Cymone simply rolled her eyes with a smile on her face. She had finally broke the news about her new situation with the twins to Tricia and Val a couple days ago and Tricia was more excited than she was.

Once the girls parked the car they walked around to the front entrance so they could really make their entrance. Since they were VIP guests they didn’t have to wait in the line and pay the cover charge like everyone else which of course garnered a lot of ugly looks from people who had been waiting for God knows how long. They were escorted inside and to their section by one of Duke’s boys and not long after the bottle girls were making their way over with bottles, sparklers, and a sign that said If he look he took.

Cymone could only smirk knowing this was Stacks idea. He had been stalking her instagram page one day and called her trying to bicker about her using that same saying from the sign as her caption.

“The fuck you mean if he look he took?”

“Ain’t nobody else getting took round this bitch Cymone.”

“Keep playing you gone get a nigga shot.”

Two bottles of 1942 were placed in an ice bucket along with pineapple juice and Cymone immediately snatched up the shot glasses and passed them around. After each girl had a shot Cymone dramatically cleared her throat.

“Cheers to a summer we will never forget ladies!”

The girls cheered and shouted “I know that’s right” and threw the liquor back. Cymone grimaced for a short second before she soon fixed her face. Just as she grabbed some juice to chase it she felt a hand grab her ankle. Cymone quickly snatched her foot away in urgency and turned around to see none other than Rashad smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

“Here this fuck nigga go,” she could hear Tricia declare loudly causing Cymone to nod her head in agreement. Rashad had become insufferable over the last week with the constant calling and texting. After a while she had to block his number cause it had gotten that out of hand. She had also purposefully refrained from reporting his behavior to Smoke and Stack because she knew they would shoot first and ask questions later and she didn’t want Rashad to get hurt but at this point the nigga was asking for it.

“What you want Rashad,” Cymone asked and she folded her arms noting he was flanked on both sides by two of his homeboys.

“I want you but you actin like you don’t understand that. Blocking my number was uncalled for babygirl.”

“I’m not yo babygirl and yo number is blocked because you getting on my damn nerves. Ain’t gone ever be no us. Get that through yo thick ass skull!”

Cymone could see Rashad’s face begin to contort in anger but she truly didn’t care. Wasn’t no nigga gone harass her and make her feel uncomfortable because he didn’t understand the word no. She ain’t even play like that.

“Bitch who you the hell you think you talking to,” Rashad yelled as if he had lost his mind.

Why would he do that?

Before Cymone could even blink Smoke was behind Rashad with his pistol pointed at his head. A quick survey of the area and she noticed Stack at his side with a grin a mile wide and Duke standing behind one of the friends. She knew it wasn’t just them waiting on shit to pop off either. The whole club was full of niggas they ran with just waiting on the nod to really set shit off if Rashad or his boys wanted to get stupid and that’s the last thing Cymone wanted. Tonight was supposed to be drama free and about the twins.

“Who you calling a bitch nigga,” Smoke spoke menacingly as he nudged the gun further into Rashad’s skull.

“Sound like he was calling our woman a bitch to me Smoke but you know I can be a lil hard of hearing sometimes. Is that what you said Ricky,” Stack asked as he thumped Rashad continuously against the head.

“My name ain-“

Before Rashad could get his sentence completely out Stacks fist connected with his jaw. Cymone jumped at how fast he moved and from the corner of her eye she could see Val shaking a little. She quickly grabbed her hand and lightly squeezed. Stack squatted down over Rashad’s body as he lay on the ground clutching his mouth while glaring at the men standing around him.

“The next time I see you around her or see you even thinking of saying some shit to her I’m gone be yo worst nightmare,” he said as he punctuated the end of his sentence by tapping his forehead with his pointer finger. That same smile on his face but Cymone knew there was no amusement behind it. Stack slowly stood and took a spot next to Smoke who was now standing by Duke.

“Now get the fuck out our establishment. Before we put yo ass out,” Smoke gruffly as he tucked his pistol into the back of his pants.

One of Rashad’s friends immediately pulled him from the floor and they made their exit without a fuss. Cymone finally felt like could breathe knowing he was gone. She also didn’t realize she had been squeezing the hell out of Val’s hand until the girl began to tug away.

“Sorry stink,” Cymone said apologetically as she rubbed Val’s hand before dropping it.

“Sugar.”

Cymone turned her attention to Smoke who beckoned her with a nod. She stepped down from the section while telling the girls she would be back before following the twins to what she guessed was their office on the second floor of the building. Once they were all inside Stack closed the door and locked it.

“You okay,” Smoke asked as she grabbed her face and began looking her over as if a bruise would pop up out of nowhere.

“I’m fine Jesus. He ain’t do nothing but say some words. I’m good,” she mumbled as she removed Smoke's hands only to be turned and pulled into the embrace of Stack who was standing behind her.

“You know he worry bout you. You ain’t no fragile lil thang but you ain’t made of teflon either,” Stack spoke into the top of her head before he leaned back and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. Cymone took a moment to relax into his arms and take a deep breath before she pulled away and turned to Smoke.

“I know you worry bout me Jah but I’m fine I promise,” she said as she flashed him an honest smile while throwing her arms around his neck.

She had been working on being more affectionate with them since she stepped into her new role as their woman. Some things still took some getting used to like the stares and the whispers from other people. Luckily anytime she felt herself getting worked up they were there to calm her down. Just as she began to lean in to give her man a kiss there was a knock on the door that broke her out of her romantic mood. Stack raised his voice telling em to come in and they were faced with none other than Cornbread.

“We got a lil problem downstairs. The nigga over the door let Mary in and Sammie went to go tell her she shouldn’t be there and she told him to get the fuck out her face. Now his lady and her friends down there bout to beat her ass.”

Cymone immediately dropped her arms and straightened her back the second she heard that name.

Mary

That bitch had been pissing her off lately too. Word got round to her in the suburbs that Cymone was with Smoke and Stack and she had been talking cash shit. Talking about how Cymone was a man stealing hussy and a tramp for being with two men. She was also spreading word that she was gone take Stack back as if she wasn’t married. Cymone had been itching for the day she finally ran into that hoe so she could stomp a Mississippi Mud Hole in her ass and tonight was her lucky night. All thoughts of Rashad has flew out the window.

“Angel-“

“Shut up Stack,” Cymone interrupted with her hand raised as she pushed past Cornbread and made quick work of getting down the stairs two at a time. Once she made it to the bottom she soon spotted her girls who were being held back by Duke and Sammie. This was perfect because they were so wrapped up in keeping Re and them away nobody was paying attention to her.

“No let em go Duke! I can whoop all of them bitches. You know Stack taught me how to fight,” Mary spewed out confidently as she eyed the women with a smirk.

“Well well well. Look what the trailer park drug in,” Cymone threw out as she took in her opponent. Brown hair straightened, black halter top, jeans, and flip flops.

Basic ass white bitch

Mary slowly turned to Cymone and let out a little chuckle.

“Oh I’m supposed to be scared of you too?”

“Heavens no! I would never want you to be afraid of lil ole me. Nah I want you to be so deluded into thinking I can’t whoop yo ass that you never see me coming,” Cymone stated as she slowly circled Mary just to raise the hair on her arms.

“Well I ain’t and I never will be. I mean it was your so called man that taught me how to fight,” Mary spoke with a smug smirk in her face as if that was supposed to rile Cymone up.

Cymone observed Mary quietly and from the corner of her eye she could see Stack making his way through the crowd. A slight turn of her head she could see Smoke watching intently from upstairs.

“See the difference between me and you is, I ain’t never needed a nigga to teach me a bitch ass thang. You run around this town tryna make yourself blend in cause of that lil drop of black you got so you fuck every nigga you can lay a hand on. However, the reason that nigga can’t get enough of me is cause he know I don’t need him. You really built yo whole life around a nigga that wouldn’t piss on yo ass if you was on fire,” Cymone spat as she could see the anger forming onto Mary’s face.

A hit dog bout to start hollering.

Cymone anticipated it before it could happen and just as Mary tried to lunge she was on her first. She grabbed the girl by the back of her head and threw her down. With her on the ground she sent a kick to her side that probably bruised a couple ribs if not broke em.

“Bitch you’ll never have the upper hand on me! I whoop hoes like you for fun,” Cymone yelled as she felt a hand go around her waist and snatch her backwards. She collided into a body but a sniff of their cologne told her it was Stack. She slowly turned to look at him. Her entire body was full of energy and her eyebrows were furrowed and here he was smiling down at her as if she was the next coming of Jesus.

Through the haze of her focus on Stack she could hear Duke yelling at somebody to get Mary out of the club. Sammie had found his way back behind the DJ booth and the sounds of BigXThaPlug crooned throughout the building shifting the mood back to a party. A hand on the back of her neck brought her back completely. She didn’t have to look away from Stack to know who it was.

“Go back with yo friends. Have some fun. I’ll come get ya in a hour,” Smoke spoke low. Cymone only nodded and trotted off back to her girls.

Smoke

Smoke continued to watch over the club from the balcony of the second floor. He had been behind the scenes all night making sure things were running smoothly. He was also making sure the money had been adding up and thankfully they were making a good profit for the first night. He knew every night wouldn’t be like this but as long as they had these days a few times a month then they had nothing to worry bout.

His eyes trailed from the door back to her. After Cymone’s run in with that punk ass nigga Ray and her scuffle with Mary he was worried her mood for the night would be ruined. Thankfully her friends were able to lift her back up in no time. He watched as she hopped up to dance to some Megan Thee Stallion song that had begun playing. She moved her body as if she wanted everybody in the building to watch and she had done her job because he couldn’t tear his eyes away. A couple seconds into his stalking she made eye contact with him and that smirk that covered her face let him know she knew he was watching all along. She bent over and grabbed her ankles before she began to throw her ass back onto Tricia who was screaming excitedly.

Dangerous.

He held her gaze for a few more seconds before Stack appeared taking Tricia’s place. Smoke put his toothpick in his mouth and decided to go in the office to get away from all of the rowdiness for a spell.

He sat behind his desk and let out a slow breath in content. After years of doing any and everything to make some money they were finally able to get here. Smoke couldn’t say he was entirely proud of the journey it took. They had to rob, kill, and steal but it was a necessary evil to cross the bridge to success in his eyes. He didn’t regret nothing and he just prayed when his time came that the good Lord would understand him. He was soon broken out of his thoughts by a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Annie, the chef they had hired, peaked her head around the door.

“Evening Mr. Moore. Just wanted to let you know we closing down the kitchen for the night.”

“Thank ya Annie and remember call me Smoke. Mr. Moore was my daddy.”

“Okay Smoke,” she ended with a chuckle before closing the door.

Smoke glanced down at his watch and realized Cymone’s hour had been ran over. He shut down the computer and picked up his work bag. The club was gone be open for another hour but he was honestly ready to call it a night. Stack was gone be closing down the club tonight since he was the more personable twin and had been waiting on an excuse to party all night. As if she could feel him thinking bout her Cymone was standing right on the other side of the door soon as he opened it.

“Hey there boss man. You ready to go,” her voice ran over him like molasses and he closed his eyes for a second just to savor it. He then looked down at her with a lil smirk before wrapping his arm around her waist.

It didn’t take long for them to exit the club and get round to the twins house. Smoke might have been speeding just a lil more since he was eager to finally lay with her and wrap his arms around her.

Him nor Stack had any plans for how the night was to go because they wanted her to be comfortable at all times. The last thing they wanted was for her to run away because they pushed too fast. What Smoke didn’t know was that Cymone, although cool as a fan, was a bundle of nerves waiting to explode in the passenger seat next to him.

Cymone

Cymone looked completely fine on the outside but deep inside of her there was a woman screaming to get out. Maybe it was the never ending shots of tequila that were raging her hormones but she had soon came to the conclusion that something had to give tonight.

As her and Smoke made their goodbyes, Stack informed them that Duke would be closing tonight instead of him so he could come home a lil earlier. Soon as he got done counting the money he would be on his way home and that was great for Cymone. Her plan was to wash up and put on her lingerie under her black silk pajama set she packed. Her brain still didn’t know if sex was on the menu but her body knew something was getting done tonight. It honestly had been long enough. Cymone hadn’t gotten any in about a year since she broke up with her ex right before Sophomore year started.

Inside their home Smoke gave her a brief tour so she could become familiar with the place. Everything about it screamed their personalities and she knew Stack put a lot of thought into the decorations from the album covers of their favorite rappers hanging on the walls to the dark hues of red and blue accents and the black furniture.

“This here is the guest room. You can put yo stuff in here and the bathroom is right across the hall. I’m about to go shower, if you need something let me know,” Smoke spoke before retreating down the hall to his room.

Him in the shower.

Cymone lightly clenched her thighs together at the thought of him naked, water running down the hard planes of his chest, his eyes closed in relaxation.

Breathe bitch.

Snapping out of it Cymone quickly grabbed her things and walked the short distance to the bathroom across the hall. Once inside she turned on the shower to the hottest temperature and put her locs into a bun before getting inside.

She let the hot water rain down on her skin as she closed her eyes. After a few more minutes she grabbed her washcloth and soap and began to lather up. As she washed her body she couldn’t help but to imagine what her shower would have been like with the twins. Would they be fighting over the water? Would they complain about it being so hot like most men do? How would they look at her?

The girl was wayyy past hot and bothered and somebody needed to put some water on the flames quickly. Cymone was jolted from her thoughts by a rough knock on the bathroom.

“Uh yeah?”

“Just wanted to let you know Stack was back. We gone be in the living room cause this nigga wanna watch a movie,” Smoke bellowed through the thick wood of the bathroom door.

“Okay. I’ll be out in a lil minute,” Cymone spoke shakily, almost feeling like Smoke could see straight through the door at her flustered figure.

Pull it together!

After 10 more minutes Cymone was out of the shower and dressed in her pajamas. She walked back into the guest room to put her clothes in her bag before making her way down the hallway back into the living room. The sight before her would have made a nun go against her celibacy. Smoke sat in the arm chair with one foot lazily draped over the ottoman as he looked down at his phone. He was clad in a black wife beater and some gray sweatpants. On the other hand Stack sat on their sectional with the remote in his hand. He wore a pair of black basketball shorts…..no shirt. If Cymone didn’t have any common decency to herself the girl would probably start drooling.

She slowly padded her feet into the living room before sitting on the right side of Stack. She took notice of him scrolling through movies on Hulu as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“You find anything yet,” she muttered softly, almost too scared that if she talked normally they would hear the desperation in her voice.

“Yeah. Y’all good with the Blackening?”

Smoke could be heard saying yes from across the room and Cymone quickly whispered a yes as well as she looked up at Stack from the corner of her eye. Stack pressed play on the movie and she felt the couch dip as Smoke took a place on the other side of her sandwiching her in. Cymone lightly clenched her thighs as the presence of them began to suffocate her. There was no way she was going to make it through this movie without melting into the couch.

She opted to lean back into the plush cushions just to get her mind off of the two temptations flanking her sides but that honestly didn’t help because they seemed to follow her every move. Stack leaned back with her and draped his arm across her shoulder and Smoke leaned over to his right as his hand mindlessly began drawing circles on her right thigh.

They got 20 minutes into the movie before she felt Smoke's hand slip to the inside of her thigh causing her to suck in a breath. Cymone didn’t know if it was an accident or not because his hand went back to its previous spot but she wanted it to happen again. She decided to focus her attention back on the movie but just as she got back into it Stacks lips were next to her ear.

“Why you so jumpy? The movie scaring you?”

Cymone let out a small gasp at the close proximity.

“No I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. Look like you struggling with something,” Smoke said low although the whole time his eyes never left the tv screen.

“Struggling with something like what,” she asked breathlessly.

She felt Stack turn her head as he brought her in for a searing kiss that sent a jolt throughout her whole body. Cymone let out a moan at finally having physical contact with him and her mind went back to the last time they had actually kissed her.

Tonight she wouldn’t be stopping them.

She was so lost in the kiss she didn’t feel Smoke get up from the couch but she was brought back to him once he grabbed her hand to lift her from the couch.

“Come on Sugar,” he said in a tone she had never heard before. He gently led her down the hallway with Stack right on their heels. She felt her heart beating out of her chest almost like it was going into overdrive. The minute they crossed the threshold into Smoke’s room he stopped and turned to her. His face was ever so serious as it usually was.

“Are you sure you ready for this,” he asked as he searched her eyes for any hesitation.

Without a second thought she answered.

“Yes.”

Note: Hey guysssss!! Did you miss me?? I missed y’all too omg. Writer’s block had a bitch down bad!! So glad I’m over that hump. Well here is part 5 and I know I know fuck cliff hangers fr! But it was necessary 🤭. Anyways let me know what y’all and see y’all next time!!

Tag List: @angryflowerwitch @cleo92bitch-i-am-old @reci1996 @hoodpr1ncessdiana @cerya @rose-bliss @thickemadame @katezy2x @roughridah0 @5starsirl @woahthatshitfat @sassymemoryelixir @iiiheartfayee @melinatedlifeline @stankface @flaps200 @thefutureemmywinner @junkie05

[damnitiloveyou]

I loved that episode! Lovely bounceback from the plotty one we had yesterday.

Not going to lie I'm very nervous about what the prison backstory is going to be. The 'please no' from Robert was deeply concerning. And while I still don't believe they will actually go that direction I do have trust issues with this show. They like to weave into that story angle a lot. Please, please don't. Repeated beatings, even some that maybe put Robert in the hospital or near death a few times would be plenty traumatic enough. There's no need to go the other way this time. Please.

I detest John. Seriously fuck al the way off. That gross display in the Hyde today deserved a punch. God I hope Robert gets to hit him for real before this is all over. Not involving Aaron in the parts of the story that involve John though is still a really bizarre choice. Not getting his reaction to the events of yesterday is flat out strange. I get not wanting him fully involved in the Robert/John stuff yet but his reaction to things is actually quite necessary. We're going to have to start seeing Aaron's POV on things.

I really liked the Robert and Mack chat. And Matty being involved was a nice touch. I want no part of any Robert and Mack hookup talk though for many reasons. I don't want Robert getting in between his marriage for starts. He has enough stacked against him without making him that guy in the village again. He can be Aaron's bit on the side, but only Aaron's. And I like the idea of this version of Robert surprising people and having them come around to him because they see who he is now is not who he was in 2015. And Robert needs an actual friend. Not one he wants to sleep with. Not one he wants to scheme on. Not one he needs on side in order to gain something. He deserves an actual friend. He's never really had that. An honest to god friend that he can confide in, laugh with and feel some kind of normalcy with. He's been deprived of any kind of connection for years, and yes he has Vic, but Robert isn't going to tell Vic a lot of things for obvious reasons. I think the prison backstory is going to be really awful, and he's clearly not okay, let him know he has someone on his side who doesn't want anything from him, but just wants to help make sure he's okay. He deserves an honest platonic connection with someone.

I am loving all the Sugdenland and farmer talk. I really hope they're going somewhere with that. Let him have that land, and build him a home of his own. That's another thing he's never had. A place that no one can kick him out of when he screws up. A place he will always be able to call his home no matter what. Obviously it would be Aaron's as well at some point but I cannot abide a redo of Robert constantly being kicked out of his home when he makes a mistake, because he will make mistakes, he's Robert. So let his next home actually be his. But I do really kind of get the sense that the show fully understands what they have in this character now and how much they benefit from his presence on this show. All this Sugden talk surrounding his return really does kind of feel like the show is trying to establish him into is birthright place in that village. It was never supposed to be run by Dingles.

I'm just really excited.

[sirvinkunt]

The amount of connections that season 5 is going to have to "A Wrinkle In Time" is insane!!!! Like to start we have Verna's human form being called Mr.Whatsit which is directly taken from Mrs.Whatsit in "A Wrinkle In Time" who happens to follow a lot of what I assume to be his storyline in season 5!!

We also have the connection with the episode called "Escape From Camazotz" which is derived from the book again, with Camazotz being a place that is a dark alternative plain that is controlled by "IT" (being either Vecna or the Shadow Monster) which I believe is going to be representing the upside down.

I also believe that that that episode is going to be a lot like the "A Wrinkle In Time" with holly being representative of Meg's father, as we already know she's the one who is missing and who would need to "escape" I think Meg in this would take the position of Mike as he is the one that is related to Holly, and I think that Calvin is going to be Will just from bts that we have seen. I think that episode is going to be extremely similar to the book (or the movie as it's sort of lore accurate) where it's going to be mainly Calvin and Meg (Will and Mike) in that episode being the ones to find his "dad".

An alternative theory I have to this is that Karen may actually go missing in place for the dad and while trying to find her that's when Holly is going to go missing and is going to be the Wallace of the series where she is "possessed" by Vecna and Mike is going to have to get her out (still being in Meg's shoes) by having sibling love. (I don't really believe in this version but it is possible.)

The last theory I have on what this episode could be really comes from the byler in me but I think it's going to follow suit with the first one where Mike and Will will be looking for Holly, as she's the one that is missing, and instead of Holly getting possessed and being the Wallace, I think it's going to be Will as he already has past with being possessed, I still think Will is going to be Calvin in this too as he is a friend helping look for their friends relative but I don't think he necessarily has to be limited to one character. I think when they are trying to start looking for Holly, Vecna (Mrs.Whatsit) is going to inform Will when and where to start (giving him the neck chills or a vision). When he's possessed I feel like to get him out of the possession it's going to be love, as for Wallace that is what gets him out, however family isn't going to be there for him, not like they were in the shed scene in season 2 (which does truly resemble Wallace's possession and how they got Wallace out of that state) the only person there with him is going to be Mike. I think this is (if byler is endgame) where we get a sort of confession, a moment where Mike talks about memories and things such as that (maybe even having flashbacks as scene in leaks). This theory to me seems the most plausible (maybe because it's byler related but I digress..) it ties into themes that we already see within Will and connections that he already has that ties him to certain characters in "A Wrinkle Through Time", I am really excited to see how this truly plays out though because the more I look into it the more "A Wrinkle In Time" actually fits into the Stranger Things storyline and I think them finally playing around with the idea of the two things connecting would be really fun!

(Also side note Calvin and Meg do end up together so if Will really is with him the whole time then that connection would be even more insane.)

Also to add for anyone who doesn't believe there is going to be that much of a connection to "A Wrinkle In Time" in season 5 and that these are all just coincidences, this is bts photo that Ross Duffer posted on his instagram... it is literally the book.

[writing-whump]

I am the biggest fan of arranged marriage becomes real love and I hope that something they’ll happen between Melissa and Dominick. It’ll probably take a while, but my fingers are crossed 🤞

So I was wondering, could you write a fic where they are maybe talking about the logistics of their plan and what not and Dominick gets one of his attacks that he got in the fic that we were introduced to him and Melissa has to be the caretaker?

I'm so excited about this ask, thank you for sending it! I LOVE the arranged marriage/fake relationship becoming real too!!🙈💕

Too Late to Lie

"Are you sure about this one?"

Melissa rolled her eyes as Dominick paced the apartment Isaiah had offered her, his critical gaze making the whole thing almost funny.

"Yes."

"Look at how old the furniture is."

Actually, it wasn't half as old as anything she looked for on her own when she sought to rent an apartment for herself. This was in great condition, and the main advantage was, she could move right in.

"Isn't it too small?" Dominick continued, his steps echoing through the living room wooden floor.

"It's more than enough for me and Marcie," she assured him, throwing her loose straight red hair behind her shoulder. Then she stopped, when the idea hit her. "If you don't...do you want to move in too?"

Dominick froze in place, back to her. She could tell by how he rolled his shoulders he was fighting off a reaction he didn't want her to see.

As expected, he turned around wearing that confident smile and the same cheeky glint in his eyes. "It's not really my style."

"Not because of- I mean, if it wouldn't be- wouldn't feel safer for you." She rubbed her palms together, despite the heat. Yes, safe that was the right word. "What if someone goes after you too?"

"I don't think I'm an interesting target. Besides, I have lots of security in all of my apartments."

Melissa didn't want to shoot down his security systems, but it seemed too little against wolves. Or witches.

"Only..." he hesitated, walking in a circle around the living room all the way to the kitchen. "Only if you felt safer. With me here. I'm only 15 minutes down the road though and I can come anytime you call me."

She nodded. She didn't want to put more pressure on him. When there wasn't an audience, his confident shark mask mellowed down a lot. It was easier to talk to him then.

"You don't have to live in the same place, if you don't feel comfortable...yet. But we are going to live in one place...that would help with the marriage story, wouldn't it?"

Dominick's hand went along the counter, seeing how dusty it was. "I have a place for us. Two floors, four bathrooms, someone to cook and clean. You will have every comfort in the world."

Ah. So they were going to live separate lives. Everything planned out so they wouldn't have to bump into each other for anything.

"We don't have to push it yet," she relented. "We can live here with Marcie until the wedding and see what happens then."

He nodded, not looking at her. "I will...I'll get different design suggestions for the place and let you choose what you like. So you can set it up to your taste. I can get it done under a week."

She nodded although she thought it was unnecessary. That was usually they worked since the engagement. All these acts of services. Making sure she knew he would give and arrange her with all possible comforts he could think of.

As if he were paying for every minute of her presence in luxury.em

Everything in her name, to her taste. It was a princess treatment she hadn't imagined in her wildest dreams. She was the fetch girl all her life, she was always proving herself with skills and hard work. It was disconcerting as hell.

Was she trying to show her his power? Capabilities? How rich and connected he was?

Or was it for her sake? Did it bother him what Isaiah said at the meeting? About pretending he cared?

He usually shook off such comments with ease, but something seemed...off today. He was meeting her eyes less, hunched over more and he was constantly moving, like he couldn't sit still.

Melissa liked the place already though. She would pack her and Marcie's things and they could move in here this week already. Let the storm pass.

She was so anxious about it she wished she could speed it up, so it could be over sooner.

His phone rang. He looked at it and then at her, uncharacteristically hesistsnt.

"It's okay," she waved her hands. "It's all done for today. You can go, if you need to."

He looked torn taking the call, then let his hand with the phone down, watching her. "If you woudl like me to...but I don't want to make you nervous by forcing my presence here before you are ready. You have enough to deal with it as it is."

Melissa nodded as he walked into the other room, his voice booming through the walls.

He was good at making things sound like favors — like he was being considerate and thoughtful, when really he wasn’t ready to stay.

...

Melissa didn’t wait for the sound of the front door closing. She curled up on the couch with her arms around one of the throw pillows and let her mind spin in slow, anxious circles until it ran itself out.

She must have drifted off.

When she woke up, the light had shifted. Evening had bled into night, and the air in the apartment felt heavier.

She stretched stiffly and rubbed her eyes — and that’s when she noticed.

The door was still locked from the inside. His shoes were still by the door.

He never left.

She stood slowly, tension creeping up her spine. "Dominick?" she called, moving toward the hall. No answer.

She found him in the bathroom. The light was still on.

He was sitting on the closed toilet lid, bent forward, his elbows on his knees, one hand pressed to his temple. His suit jacket was hanging from the doorknob, and his tie had been loosened, collar damp with sweat.

When he looked up, his eyes were glassy.

"What's wrong?" It felt wrong to step closer. His whole body tensed up and she could see him wince with the pain of straightening, of meeting her gaze with that tiredness. He wasn't bracing for pain, he was swimming in it, soaked with it. There was something terrifying about that awareness, about his dilated pupils.

"I'm fine. Just a headache." He was tilting slightly to the side as if his balance was off, one hand wrapped around the other as if he was holding it straight.

This wasn't new for him. Even the intensity of the pain didn't seem alarming to him. She knew that look from regular patients at the hospital. That resignation.

"You are sweating through your shirt," she observed. Her heart sped up. She wasn't sure how to react. Her clinical doctor side wanted to ask questions, fuss, take care of him. The other wanted to pull back and hide.

She didn’t want to see him weak. Not now — not before the fight they were about to start, the one she’d put all her trust in. In him. In his shark smile and grant promises.

She didn't want a connection from this either. She didn't want to care about this man who held so much power over her life. Saying yes and being mild was hard enough when she didn't care for him.

"Do you have medicine for this?" Melissa asked, trying to stay practical. No need to ask questions she knew he wasn't willing to answer.

How long have you been sick? What hurts? Why? Why are you not fighting it? Why are you not laughing it off? Why?!

"I'm fine," he repeated, his voice sharper now, with jagged edges. "Go home. Leave me be."

She put her hands on her hips, feeling defensive. "Then tell me what kind of help you’d actually accept."

"I don't need your help," he snapped, then groaned, curling his head into his hands.

"Is there anyone else you want me to call?" Melissa said, ignoring the outburst.

A laugh bubbled up. Ironic. "Melissa, please. A headache like this is beneath your attention. Not worth the fuss. I’ll take a short break and head out after."

Such a blatant lie.

If he wanted to take a tiny break he would have lied down in the bedroom, no matter how dusty or unmade it was. He wouldn't have chosen a bathroom.

She scanned him over, his colourless lips, his flushed cheeks, the sweat clinging to his neck and hairline. The tremble in his fingers. The painful frown etched into the forehead that was usually so smooth and composed.

This was not the face he wanted to show her either.

What was she supposed to do? Accept his wishes and leave him to it?

Melissa stepped to the cupboard, looking through it but there were no towels, no washclothes, no linens. No fabric she could use.

Damn it.

She had a light blue blouse over her tank top. The blouse was damp and crumpled from the day, but it would do. The tank underneath was small, a little revealing — but this wasn’t about modesty.

She shrugged off the blouse and put it under the cold water. When it was soaked properly, she turned to him, putting the folded cloth on his nape.

He flinched at the touch, eyes flickering to her now-bare shoulders, the way goosebumps had risen along her arms. "I said-"

"Shut up. We’ve done everything your way today. You don’t get to argue with me now," she said firmly. Her fingers brushed along his cheek and neck, but there was no fever. She focused on his pulse. Elevated, but that could be from the pain.

"Your symptoms."

"Melissa-"

"I can't treat you if I don't know them."

"Does a person not have the right to reject these violating administrations?"

She scoffed. "Why did you choose a doctor for a fiancé then?"

He flinched away from her touch, shuddering. "That's not why and you know it."

"What an added bonus," she said sarcastically.

He was still curled away and tilting even more, like he was about to crumble to the floor. Okay, so the stern approach wasn't working either.

She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. It wasn't the first time her short temper had made her profession difficult. "Look. You don't have to tell me what this is or prove that this is not why you wanted me here. Maybe you didn't. Maybe you just don't trust me. Fine. But I'm already here, so you might as well make it easier on both of us."

Dominick didn’t answer.

His eyes had closed again, brows still pulled tight. His breathing had slowed, but not in a restful way — more like he was trying to shrink into himself. With that amount of sweat dripping from his face he looked like someone about to fall — not asleep, but apart.

Melissa knelt down, slowly as if not to spook him. Not reaching for him, just close enough that he would feel her presence.

"I'm not trying to win," she said quietly. "I just want to help."

That made him shift, barely. His mouth opened, but no words came. Then he swallowed thickly. "I feel dizzy."

She nodded slowly. Not a full explanation, but it was something.

"Do you feel faint?"

"No." He sounded insulted, but then spread his legs a bit, breathing through gritted teeth. "Might...might throw up if I move though."

"See, that's useful information," she said, already looking for something to use for that purpose. There was a bucket for washing floors and a small bin without a bag. She grabbed it from the floor and put it between his legs.

He squinted at the bin with an angry grimace.

"Do you want me to shut off the light?"

"No. Hurts either way."

Melissa stayed crouched in front of him, steadying the bin with one hand. The other hovered near his knee, unsure if touching him would ground or unnerve him more.

Dominick had tipped forward slightly, his hands braced on his thighs now, knuckles white. His breath came in through his nose in shallow, measured drags, like he was trying to bargain with the pain — to breathe around it instead of through it.

His skin was waxy, flushed in uneven patches. Not quite pale, not quite flushed. His body didn’t seem to know what to do with itself.

She reached out slowly and touched his wrist. “Try to keep your head lower than your heart. That might help the dizziness.”

He didn't pull away this time. Didn’t acknowledge it either.

"Tell me what you need," she said again, more softly.

"I need this to be over." Almost a whine. It pulled at something in her chest. Not sympathy, not yet. But something quieter. Something like dread.

Then came the swallow. A hard, audible one. He brought a hand to his mouth, and for the first time, his composure visibly cracked. A burp fought it's way up, making him flinch with it.

Melissa moved the bin closer. "It's okay."

"I don’t—" He shook his head, still resisting. But his shoulders curled inward, and the next breath he took stuttered.

She saw it before it happened — that tilt forward, that helpless shift in his jaw as nausea overtook pride.

And then he was gagging.

The first dry heave was sharp, wracking his whole frame. She pushed the bin into his hands and he grabbed it tightly before the second burp came. A wet, awful sound followed as milky vomit sprayed out.

Melissa didn’t speak. She didn’t reach for him. Just kept one hand lightly on his arm, helping him hold the bin with the other. Half of his face disappeared in that small container. It would have been comical if he didn't sound so pained as another throaty belch brought up a bubble of puke.

He gasped in a shaky breath, then another retch, rough and miserable, echoing in the small bathroom. It sounded like there wasn’t much left in him. Just pain squeezing through muscle.

"Easy," she said softly. "Don’t fight it."

He coughed once, trying to catch his breath between spasms. There was a whine, like he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure what. Something about that defenselessness made her throat tighten.

And then she did reach — brushing the damp hair from his forehead, letting her fingers rest there for just a moment, grounding him.

He was shaking. She hadn’t realized how badly until now.

When the worst of it passed, he stayed slumped over, breathing hard, arms braced on the bin. Melissa carefully eased it from his grip, pushing it away. "Okay. You are okay. Just breathe."

She sat beside him on the floor, her back against the wall.

She didn’t look at him. Just sat there, smoothing her pants. "And the world kept turning," she said into the tense silence.

A snappy, rasping sound came from his throat. Could’ve been a laugh. Could’ve been defeat.

Either way, it wasn’t a protest. Even if just for a moment.

[merlinfromberlin]

Currently working (among other things) on a story that is most likely going to be called "Nooks & Crevices" and is about Bumblebee as well as several other people playing Hide & Seek with him. It will have 6 chapters and fluctuate between fluff and angst.

This is not directly related to this but I'm always so pleased when my word count for a certain scene/chapter is a 'nice' number.

Like. I just now finished the first draft for exposition for the first chapter of this and it is exactly 650 words long. And that is just so very, very neat in my opinion. Makes my brain happy.

I'm aware that it will change because I will edit this at least once (probably more than once because I feel that it is a bit convoluted right now). But for now it is just very neat and makes me happy. :D

And now have a sneak peak under the cut for being so nice as to read this. ^^ And because it will probably be a while before I get to officially upload this. Even if I finish it soon.

Optimus still remembered the cycle he had first taught Bumblebee how to play Hide and Seek well. It had been in the first of those pockets of deceptive non-peace, which had become frequent in the middle stages of the War, after the Autobots had taken in the yellow minibot sparkling.

Early on in the War, when it had still been called a Civil War by the media, after only a few hexacycles of fighting, both Autobots and Decepticons had been forced to concede that the War would not end anytime soon. Rather, it had turned into their new, permanent reality. However, neither of the factions possessed the resources to keep up combat indefinitely. They needed time for their troops to recuperate and their energon reserves to be filled.

Thus, these undiscussed ceasefires had been established. They often lasted only a few decicycles and apart from some minor skirmishes, there would be no major combat. Instead, a cautious and deceptive quiet would settle across deserted battlefields across Cybertron as both factions waited for scouting, inventions or espionage to yield advantageous results before advancing on the enemy once again.

When Optimus and Ratchet had first taken Bumblebee into their care, there had been no more public media outlets left to discuss the difference between War and Civil War; there had not been any in a long time. Temporary ceasefires, however, had long since become a regularity of life.

Still, it had taken several hexacycles before uneasy, combat-free non-peace enveloped Cybertron for the first time after Bumblebee’s rescue out of a collapsed shelter. When the ceasefire finally came, however, it turned out to be one of the longest the factions had seen yet. As quiet cycles stretched into calm decicycles even Optimus had been able to catch up with the never-ending flood of reports and paperwork, allowing the Prime to spend time with his bonded–be they amicae, conjunx or sparkling.

No one could remember the last time they had seen Ratchet this content. When one of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker’s pranks went awry, resulting in a giddy yellow sparkling covered in paint splotches, he did not even threaten the twins with a wrench to the head. Instead, the medic took a photograph to comm to his conjunx before sending the younglings to clean up Bumblebee.

Nevertheless, no matter how good a mimicry of peace this ceasefire may have presented, none of the Autobots could forget that they were living on borrowed time. The fighting would, most likely sooner rather than later, inevitably start up once again, shattering their idyllic fantasy of domesticity. Nevertheless, no matter how much they enjoyed these calm decicycles, none of them could truly forgot the constantly looming threat of warfare–none of them except for Bumblebee.

The newest and youngest member of the Autobot faction had unabashedly relished the apparent peace, delighted by the unusual amount of attention the older bots were paying him. The sparkling seemed completely undaunted, unaware even of the fact that the War had indeed not ended, just slowed down momentarily.

Even if it warmed their sparks, Optimus and Ratchet dreaded the cycle the fighting would begin anew and what the sudden change would do to Bumblebee’s psyche. Still, neither Prime nor medic were willing to rob the sparkling of his illusionary happiness prematurely.

However, even without having to shatter his peace, allowing him to keep his innocence intact for just a bit longer, there were ways to prepare Bumblebee for the realities of the War he had been forged in. They had to. As soon as the Decepticons learned of the new sparkling raised by the Autobot High Command, bonded to Optimus Prime and Ratchet of all bots, he would be a prime target. Just as Hot Rod had been and still was.

Playfully teaching Bumblebee how to behave in emergencies, how to hide and stay safe, Optimus had decided, would just be the first of many covert survival lessons.

[story-book-sillies]

Grieving over someone who isn’t gone is such a complicated feeling. Especially when they are your best friend. Especially when they want to leave you.

I still can interact with them today. I can see them with my own eyes, hear their voice with my ears, understand their deepest dreams because we just know each other.

But soon, I won’t be able to see them in person, the only way I can hear their voice will be through a phone, and now someone else will learn to understand them better than me. I will slowly be forgotten as someone else becomes their remembered.

And it hurts. But it happens. And I knew it was coming but I didn’t want it to happen so fast. It’s like when you know something is going to bite you but it hasn’t happened yet. You anticipate the pain so it’s like the pain is already there.

They’re still here but they’re already gone. They’re not gone forever just gone for now. You’re still a kid. They’re all grown up and they’re leaving you. It hurts.

[romantically-yours]

YALL A GIRL BOUGHT ME A DRINK YESTERDAY AND I GOT HER NUMBER!!!!

[unintentionalseductress]

Prescription For Pleasure

Warnings: MDNI, sex, masturbation, medical masturbation, use of vibrators, clit play, piv sex, use of latex gloves, oral (fem receiving), some praise, kinda slow burn A/n: I am not normal about this man in any way. Not really proofread. Please do not use my banners without permission.

You’re seated in Zayne’s office, trying not to squirm as he sets up your appointment. Although this was now the third time you were seeing him for this regular inspection, it didn’t alleviate your nerves the slightest. Each month, according to the Hunter’s Association regulations, every hunter needed to be seen by their primary care physician for 3 consecutive days for their health.

And although the association deemed it a necessity, it was an embarrassing requirement according to you. The Hunter’s Association had done a survey and discovered that many of their employees suffered from high levels of stress because they were isolated and lacked much-needed human contact. To combat this, they made it mandatory to get physical contact by a medical professional every month.

But when all the fancy jargon was pushed aside, all the hunters called it the same thing - medical masturbation. It had become wildly popular amongst both men and women hunters, eagerly marking the days on their calendar for when they could come in. When you heard about the rule, you wished the earth would open up and swallow you whole. You had tried talking to Jenna to insist that you were indeed taking care of yourself in that aspect, thanks to your trusted vibrator, but she had shaken her head no. 

“We need documentation. I’m subject to it, and so is everyone else in my order.”  Defeated, you’d walked out of Jenna’s office before remembering another mortifying fact with a jolt. Your primary care physician was Zayne. 

Your childhood friend, your trusted cardiologist, stoic and calm, who remained reserved during your general checkups, was going to be your medical masturbator. You had almost turned yourself into a ball on the floor, tweaked out at the insanity of it all. Although Zayne was your general physician, you had a separate gynecologist, and apart from asking if you’d had your annual PAP smear, Zayne had left that part of your anatomy unquestioned. It didn’t help that you were attracted to him, and sure, if he’d asked you out on a date, you would have been more than happy to let him inspect you all he wanted down there.

But this clinical setting, enforced by your organization was a little too much to bear. Wondering how to tackle this situation, you wander over to Tara who was humming as she made her medical bookings on her phone app. “Isn’t this exciting?” she squeals as she sees you. “God knows the dating pool is thin right now. This is just what I needed!”

Tara’s primary care physician was a woman, and you wondered if that was a pro or a con. On the one hand, dropping your panties for a woman doctor seemed less unnerving than for a man. But if you had a preference for men, would it work against your arousal? You shook your head at your ridiculous musings and focused on talking to Tara. “Are you really that excited about this?”

“You have no idea!” Tara taps her feet as she talks to you. 

“And you’re ok about having a woman stimulate you?” You probe, trying to gauge Tara’s reaction. Tara giggles and lightly pats your shoulder. 

“I don’t know but the idea is kind of hot. I mean, getting it on in a doctor’s office? Besides if I don’t like it, I can change the doctor the next time.”

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks. “You can change your doctor?”

“For this yes, the app gives you an option since it involves showing off a lot of intimate areas. You have to be able to trust your doctor right?”

You logged into the app, finding the little button to request a change in doctors, but for some reason, the page kept refreshing and crashing. With a sigh, you decide to get the worst of it over with and call Zayne, hoping he can make the change for you on his end. His voice is cool and professional when he answers your call.

“Yes?”

“So, you must have heard about…the new regulation?” you had put forth nervously.

“I am aware of it, yes.” 

“Well, for obvious reasons, I would like a different doctor.” 

Zayne smoothly says, “Of course. Patient comfort is always first. Do you have a doctor in mind?”

“Maybe my gynecologist? I tried doing it in the app but it keeps crashing.” There’s a moment of silence and you can hear Zayne’s fingers tapping away at his keyboard before a low hum leaves his end of the line.

“There appears to be a problem.”

“Problem?” you’d parrotted back.

“Yes. Because so many people are booking appointments at the same time, most of the available doctors are already taken. Including your gynecologist.” 

It felt like watching a bird crashing into a window in slow motion, that brief moment of hope that it wouldn’t hit the glass shattering in an instant. “Oh.”

There’s a pause before Zayne delicately says, “I’m sorry but it looks like you will have to make those appointments with me for this month. 3 of them according to the regulation. Hopefully, you can make the change for next month.” His voice sounded slightly apologetic.

“Won’t it be weird given that we know each other personally?” The question had fallen from your lips before you could stop yourself. 

“I promise not to treat you any differently than any of my other patients who are coming in for this inspection. I understand this may be a little unexpected, but I assure you I did a term of gynecology during my internship.”

A tinge of mirth carried over in his voice and you can’t help but make a noise of embarrassment. “Zayne, please!” His laugh was dry but not unkind, and you can’t help but want to hide your face even though he couldn’t see you. 

“Don’t worry too much. But I do advise you to make the appointments soon. My schedule is filling up rapidly.”

With those words, he’d disconnected the call and you were left wondering if an unknown god from another planet had cursed your existence. 

And changing doctors had proven to be more difficult than you’d thought. The entire organization seemed to be having a single thought. They had made appointments in the app almost halfway into the year, essentially blocking you from being able to do anything about your situation. Now on your third month with Zayne, you watch as he checks his notes from your last session, feeling like you want to scamper from the room.

The last two sessions had been incredibly stimulating, your arousal heightened by the fact you were attracted to Zayne. You’d never considered having someone watch as you touched yourself but found that you’d enjoyed it, at least, when it was him. He had remained professional, but you’d avoided him these last two months, save for when you had to get your monthly cardiac profile. He reads his notes from his computer as he prepares for your session. 

“Preferred device for stimulation still a vibrator, with a large, rounded, flexible head?” His eyes remain on his screen and you’re grateful for him giving you this smidgen of privacy. 

“Yes.”

“Preference for the doggystyle position still?” 

Your face burns. “Yes.”

“Still consenting for verbal stimulation?”

You nod your head.

“And still consenting for internal vaginal stimulation?” You make a noise of consent, squeezing your thighs together, your panties uncomfortably chafing against your already swollen pussy. 

“All right, I have everything I need.” He logs off and removes his lab coat, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his well-corded arms, and your mouth almost waters at the sight of them. Clearing your throat, you shyly reach into your bag and pull out the vibrator in question, which he takes from you and clamps into a stand, adjusting it over the examination table you’d be on. A bottle of lube awaits on the tray next to the table and you swallow as he finishes the setup. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says in that deep voice, and feeling like your fingers are wrapped in thick woolen mittens, you reach behind you to untie the hospital gown you’re wearing, and it falls to the floor with a swoosh, your nipples pebbling under the sudden chill. A small set of sensors were taped to your chest and on the sides of your forehead, essential medical devices to ensure your orgasm was satisfactory. Unperturbed, Zayne gestures to the table and you make your way onto it, letting your feet settle in the stirrups as he settles on a stool between your legs, pulling on latex gloves before gently spreading your folds apart. You stare up at the ceiling as he does his initial checkup.

“Labia look healthy, no signs of trauma or abnormal discharge,” he murmurs, then runs a finger down the edge of the fold that separates your inner and outer lips, causing your core to clench involuntarily. You hold still, knowing very well he saw the action, holding your breath, letting out a little sigh as he lets go. 

“Normal reaction to stimuli, already semi-aroused,” he says, trashing the gloves and making another note on his computer. He glances over at you, leaning back uncertainly on the table. “You may begin.”

You swallow, then carefully turn onto your hands and knees, crawling towards the head of the table, grabbing the bottle of lube and squeezing the viscous liquid onto the head of the vibrator, avoiding eye contact as your breasts sway under the motion, nipples painfully hard from anticipation. You could feel Zayne’s gaze but can’t bring yourself to look up. Even though this was the third time, it hadn’t gotten easier, stripping naked and pleasuring yourself in his office. 

Once the rounded head of the vibrator is slick, you turn, the chill of the lube against your heated membranes causing more blood to flow into your already engorged nub, and run your moist slit across the surface to spread the liquid onto your slickened folds. Your hand fumbles for the little remote control and with a buzz, the vibrator turns on at the lowest setting. You click the button a few more times until it gets to the speed you liked, then fail to hold back a moan as the sensations pleasurably begin to take hold in your clit. 

The first time you had done this, nervousness had made you set the vibrator on the highest possible setting hoping to get a quick orgasm and sprint out of the office. Unfortunately, the sensors relayed this information into Zayne’s medical record that your climax had been unsatisfactory, and you had endured being lectured by him with the medical gown loosely draped on your body, your rear open to the cold office air. 

His tone wasn’t unkind but it hadn’t helped you feel better either. “It helps neither of us if you rush this. The whole purpose of this examination is to ensure you’re relaxing. I know it’s embarrassing but if you fail to have a proper orgasm, I’ll have to make you repeat the process until I get data that says otherwise.”

“The sensors are-”

“The only way to measure anything. Without involving another person anyway.”

His words had left you gobsmacked and your retort had died in your mouth. After that incident, you had learned. Even with the chagrin of having him watch you, you had learned to take your time and let the feelings build, leading to incredibly savory climaxes that made your body squirm from the aftershocks. 

Your hips sway, setting up a rhythm to brush your sensitive slit onto the head, letting it vibrate from cunt to clit, the lube aiding the frictionless sliding and making your core drip. Quiet noises of pleasure leave your throat as help yourself, arching your back and changing the curvature of your ass to maximize the sensations, then when the perfect pattern emerges, you let out a keening sigh, and try to remain still, letting the vibrator work its magic. 

Zayne, who has been quietly observing the computer this entire time, observing the spikes relayed from the sensors, asks, “Have you found your optimal pleasure form?”

“Yes,” you gasp, the timbre of his voice sending an arrow of lust into the deepest parts of your clenching core. You knew what was about to come next. The sound of Zayne’s desk chair moving, followed by the snap of latex gloves as he pulled a fresh pair onto those beautiful hands. He approaches the examination table and takes the bottle of lube you had set aside earlier, a wet squelching noise issuing from it as he squeezes it over his gloved hand, gathering the fluid on his index and middle fingers. He leans over to whisper in your ears; the verbal stimulation has begun.

The humiliating reveal that you had a heavy praise kink had come up during your initial session and despite your insistence that it wasn’t necessary, Zayne, the ever-diligent worker, had made a note in your profile, and he’d been fulfilling it each time. A tickle of hot breath near your ear, before he murmurs, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

The hum of the vibrator in the background coupled with his voice makes your breath catch in your throat. You nod, knowing you didn’t have it in you to form coherent words. 

“That’s a good patient. Good patients listen to their doctors you know. And you’re doing a wonderful job.”

Your hips snap back to push your clit against the rubber pad, letting out a whimper of pleasure, the action pushing your ass up higher, revealing your pathetically drooling cunt, fluttering with the dissatisfaction of being unfilled. 

“Are you ready?” He waits for your consent and you manage a husky, ‘mm hm’.

“Good girl. Take a breath.”

You inhale, trying to relax, then let out an uninhibited moan as Dr. Zayne inserts his middle finger into your needy cunt, the ring of muscles offering no resistance to the probing digit. He gently thrusts a few times, before curling the tip of his finger up into the delicate patch of nerves on your upper wall, the smooth come hither motion awakening a new level of pleasure in your body. Your fingers tighten on the edges of the table, sobbing, trying not to scream at the feelings that threatened to explode from you. He keeps up the gentle assault before asking, “Are you ready for another one?”

“Yes…” your voice comes out shakily, knowing you desired more than just his fingers, but that you would never get to experience it. 

“Perfect. So well behaved, taking exactly what I give you.” Zayne’s sensual voice floods your ear before his index pushes into you, the thickness of both his fingers sending you into overdrive. Your walls clench welcomingly around him, inciting an exciting pull of liquid heat in your abdomen, the muscles tensing in anticipation for the exquisite release you knew was about to occur. 

Feeling your inhibitions abandon you as you are stroked closer to orgasm your self-control slips and his name falls from your lips as he pushes over the edge.

“Zayne…” some partially functioning confine in the back of your brain registers what you had just involuntarily purred, but the spasms rocking your core, those gratifying waves of delight flooding your body made it easier to ignore it as your being is reduced to a pliant mess of pleasure. His fingers ease up as the fluttering in your pussy calms down, your clit pulsating weakly as the final vestiges of pleasure are wrung from your body. 

With a wet noise, his fingers leave your moist hole, the glove coated with your juices and the lubricant. Awareness finally comes crashing around you as you realize what you had uttered in the throes of passion. 

“I…I didn’t…I wasn’t in control…” You try to find a way to explain, to let him know you had very little choice in the matter of sobbing his name as you orgasmed, but everything feels flat, almost on the fine line between explaining and insulting. 

“There’s no need.” Almost as if he’s read your mind, Zayne matter-of-factly redirects the conversation. “It’s not uncommon to blurt out things during climax. Some people swear, and others call out names. It was a very normal reaction considering I was the one in the room with you.”

He throws the gloves in the trash and goes to check the computer, to ensure the sensors had given him the information he needed before starting the second round of the appointment.

“Oh.” You say quietly as he sits at his desk, feeling dejected. Although relieved he wasn’t making a big deal out of it, you can’t help but feel disappointed with his reaction. Shouldn’t a man be flattered when a woman cried out his name when she came? Maybe he really was treating you strictly as a patient. And here you were, pussy exposed and spread after being probed by his dextrous fingers, mooning over him like a high school girl. Perhaps the limit of your relationship with him was in fact, doctor and patient, the childhood friends aspect fading. 

So there was no romance here at all. You had a crush on him, and he was doing his job. Reality sucks. You sniff and suddenly feel cheap, and get out of the doggystyle position and try to find the hospital gown to preserve some of your modesty. Zayne glances over at your sudden movements.

“Are you cold? I can get you a blanket.”

“I’m fine.” You try to sound normal. 

“Your records show that you usually rest about 10 minutes before you are ready for the next round. Do you feel like that will be the case this time too?”

You find the gown and drag it up to your chin, covering your body as you lay back on the table. “Yeah. Actually a little sooner today maybe. I have somewhere to be.”

“You can’t rush these things. Your body will cum when it wants to. A forced orgasm doesn’t promote anything beneficial.”

“Well can we find a way for this to happen quickly and in compliance with the sensors?” You’re trying not to let your frustration show, the pleasantness of your orgasm fading. “I don’t think I have the patience to do two more rounds.”

Zayne listens to you impassively, but those amber eyes flecked with green had an underlying intensity you couldn’t place. “You don’t have the patience to do two more rounds?” He gets up and comes over to you. “You want to just leave then?” He approaches the edge of the table and there’s tension in his jaw. Perplexed, you look at him, his reaction unexpected. 

“No, I’m sorry, I know I can’t leave because of compliance and all that.”

“Compliance,” Zayne mutters under his breath before grasping your chin and forcing you to look at him, a gasp leaving your throat. 

“You’re getting frustrated because you have to do this a few times every month while being supervised? Do you have any idea what I have to do before you come in for these sessions?” His voice is a growl and you clam up, shocked by this aggressive display of expression from him.

“Every month I have to remain professional as you come in, pleasure yourself, and then leave. I have to endure seeing your beautiful body bare in front of me and control all my impulses to touch you, to not overstep my limitations as your doctor. I pleasure myself remembering the noises you make and ensure I’m well spent before coming in to do your appointments. You sit there, acting like it’s hard for you, but do you have any idea what you do to me?”

One of his knees is on the table, and he’s looming over you making you feel like a tiny animal caught in his fury. “It’s torture, to watch you. You’re not like the other patients I see. You never have been. Because with you, I always feel like I’m on the verge of losing control. Do you know how difficult it is to not do things to you that aren’t specified on your medical record? To have my fingers so intimately inside you, feel every little drop of pleasure clenching around my fingers, knowing at the end I can’t have you to myself? To hear you call my name and know that you only see me as your doctor?” 

Your face is a bright shade of red but you can’t look away from his face. His teeth are gritted, and when you dare to glance down, you see the noticeable bulge that has formed between his legs. He follows your glance and clicks his tongue, letting go of your chin. 

“I know I crossed a boundary today. It’s all right. You can go. I’ll reschedule you with another doctor. I know you didn’t want me in the first place.”

Your mind is a blur as you quickly reach out to grab his hand, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. His admission was like a prayer answered, and you weren’t going to meek about this. His breath hitches as he feels you pulling at his hand and gives you a look of uncertainty. Your lips part but the words you want to say refuse to come out. 

“Damn it,” he whispers ferally before his mouth captures yours in a rough kiss. It was wild and demanding, a contrast to the reserved, patient man he usually was. You’re swept up in the feeling of his mouth on yours, the taste of his tongue, and the softness of his lips. When you break apart, his hand cups your cheek, his eyes searching your face.

“This isn’t just because of the session right?” He asks keenly and you realize what he’s asking you. He’d been aching for you before this whole stupid policy came into place. The same way you’d been longing for him. 

“No, it’s not. I had a crush on you back when you became my doctor to check on my heart condition.” A sigh of relief leaves him before he tenderly presses his forehead to yours, and you’re caught up in the sweetness of the moment. 

“I just had to be sure.”

Boldly, you raise your head, delighted when he meets you, pulled back into his kiss, your tongues sliding over each other, your fingers tangling into his hair, scratching the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you. 

You gasp as he breaks the kiss to drag his tongue down the column of your throat, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the heated flesh, your blood humming in your veins as your eyes flutter closed. He pulls away the gown and pulls your perked nipple into his mouth, and you revel in the jolt of pleasure it brings you, each suckle felt in your clit which had already swollen up again in need. His fingers capture your other nipple, softly tweaking and pulling it and drawing little whines of desire from your throat. 

Your hand finds the junction between his legs and cups the heavy bulge, drawing a groan from him, palming him through his slacks, feeling it grow and tent the fabric under your ministrations. A low guttural sound leaves him and he gets off the table, and you almost protest until you see him dragging the small wheeled stool from earlier towards the table. He settles down on it, looping his arms around the tops of your thighs and pulling you closer to the table's edge until your feet find the stirrups again. 

“Stay open for me darling,” he instructs, his eyes glittering and you shiver as you feel his breath against your swollen folds. You squeak as he pushes your folds apart with his nose, inhaling your scent, his eyes growing dark with lust. “You smell delicious. I always wondered. Had to stop myself from sniffing my gloves after you climaxed. Not professional you know.” 

The musky tang of your pussy fills his senses, and his tongue darts out and dips into your slit, finding the swollen bud and licking it with just the right pressure that makes your toes curl and stars pop into your vision. 

Your hand rests on his head, tugging his beautiful dark locks, his name falling from your lips without barriers. Your hips rock against him, moaning, then let a sob as his lips suction around your clit. His fingers, free from the gloves at last, probe your entrance, scissoring inside to prepare you for what was to come before they curl up into that gummy patch that he knew too well. 

The sensations flood you, and the sheer knowledge of knowing you had Zayne touching you this way, unbound by the usual rules was sending you into a frenzy. Incoherent noises leave your mouth, crying out hotly as he teases the orgasm from you, your body shivering from the intensity. 

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and takes in your appearance, so soft and satisfied on his table, a dreamy look in your eyes.

“Are you prepared for the after?” he asks, you nod, more than eager to experience him. A sly smile crosses his face before he reaches over into the little chest of drawers by the table and pulls out a condom. 

“Hospitals have free condoms. It would be impractical to not use one when it’s on hand.” He explains seeing your questioning look and stands to undo his pants. You watch curiously as his cock is finally freed, eyes widening as it faces you, so impressive and veiny, standing proudly with a slight curve in its length. His pubes were neatly trimmed at the base, ebony curls visible behind the shaft. As he starts to roll on the condom, you feel your whole body heating up in anticipation. 

He leans down to kiss you before taking your feet and resting them on his shoulders, his cock at the perfect angle to enter you. As he sinks into your welcoming heat, you let out a sigh of longing, feeling the delicious stretch of muscle as he pushes up inside you, gasping as you feel his full length sheathe itself. As he bottoms out, his eyes close in bliss, hardly daring to believe that after all this time, he is finally getting to fulfill this private dream. 

Each stroke has him brushing against your gspot and kissing your cervix as he paces himself, feeling the primal urge to take you roughly and selfishly calling at his self-control. A growl leaves his throat as you whimper, straining towards him as the both of you struggle to keep a grip on reality. He feels the seductive way your walls clench around him, hears the soft noises you make, sees your face contort in pleasure with every roll of his hips. 

“Oh you feel so good,” he pants hotly, glasses askew, almost at the tip of his nose as he thrusts. “Clenching me so needily. Gonna milk me dry.”

Your response is a shuddering whimper, your back arching greedily to feel all of him, creating the perfect curvature to brush your clit against the base of his erection with each push of his hips. He feels the little bud on his heated skin, your combined fluids dripping onto his shaft, slickening the bundle of nerves with each stroke. 

“Be a good girl and cum on my cock the way you do on my fingers.” Zayne’s voice is husky as he tries to hold on, damned if he came before you. “I know you want to. I can feel the way your walls are spasming. They always do this pattern before you orgasm.”

The fact that he had memorized this knowledge of you was too much and you let go, your voice filling the room as you climax. Zayne’s hips stutter as he feels you around his length, pussy fluttering so him. His pace quickens, the sound of slapping skin becoming more and more urgent, his balls hitting your ass each time as he chases his orgasm. 

A shiver passes through his body as it happens and he buries himself in your warmth. You hum in satisfaction as you feel his cock twitch and pulse inside you as he spills his load. He pants, sweat on his forehead as he bends down to kiss you again, carefully lowering your legs which burn from the stretch as they settle on the stirrups. 

Threading your fingers through his hair, you brush your noses together, smiling shyly at him as he smirks, his eyes closing as he catches his breath.

“Can I see you outside of my office sometime?” he asks and you laugh at the invitation. 

“Are you asking me out on a date after having sex just once?” you tease as he grips the base of the condom and slides out, your pussy feeling the loss keenly. 

“I have been wanting to for a while. I was just wondering if I was misreading the signals. But I think I have a solid answer now.” He helps you sit up and cradles your body against his, idly stroking your skin, before gently removing the sensors off your body. 

“Let’s get dressed,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead after a moment of cozy silence, and the both of you hunt down your clothes. As he fixes his tie, Zayne passes by his computer and lets out an amused huff. 

“Something funny?” you ask as you button your blouse.

“The sensors definitely gave enough information to make anyone’s head spin.” You walk over and snort as you see the window, full of sharp spikes. 

“Well, at least I am guaranteed you had a good time.” Zayne’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he pulls you in for another kiss. 

“I’m not changing my doctor,” you reassure him as you pull away. There’s amusement in his gaze when he replies. 

“Oh, definitely not. I think if the Hunter’s Association ever sees this record, they’ll heavily advise you to remain with the same healthcare professional.” 

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating support banner by @/ cafekitsune @theimmortalbuns @otomegamesforlife @sweets-kozume @actuallysaiyan

[steampunk-raven]

gonna be SO annoying in 26 days time

[piknim]

It is very hard for me to change oc designs for some reason but i had a great idea for one and it actually is motivating me to figure out how to draw him

[sysig]

Your Weekly TV Guide

On Monday you can expect:

2:30 PM: Star Control II - Helix

And Tuesday:

2:30 PM: SCII - Helix

Wednesday:

2:30 PM: SCII - Helix

Thursday:

2:30 PM: Sona reacts to Eclipse

Friday:

2:30 PM: SCII - Helix

Saturday:

2:30 PM: SCII - Helix/SCII

Sunday:

2:30 PM: Just Desserts - Charm Myr (vent?)

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