#if i dated men would i have to put up with someone who i argue with and who wont compromise?

[theneworder]

TAKING A ROADTRIP

So this isn’t the story you asked for, but it’s the one that came to me when I sat down to write. This is what I wanted to write. That should be enough.

“One week?” She had asked, unsure of why she was even contemplating this.

“Yes, baby. One week. That’s all. One week, and we can forget that any of this happened.” You flushed in shame, not just in what you were asking of her, but also the erection that had quickly followed after.

Months ago, you had messaged an online profile, someone professing to be a dom and a bull, someone who claimed to be able to corrupt women, turn them into bimbos, sluts, bitches, whatever he felt like, and whatever lay dormant within them. You professed your fantasies, talked about them for hours.. Over the days, these fantasies turned into careful planning, and before you knew it, he had turned up at your door in a white sportscar, under the pretense of being your old roommate from college, a gay man who needed a fake girlfirend to bring to his cousin’s wedding.

Of course she was furious that you would agree to such a thing without consultation, but eager to look after a vulnerable gay man, to prove her credentials as a radical feminist, she couldn’t bring herself to say no once she understood the situation. For your part, you couldn’t help but find your head swimming.. It all felt a little real when the sportscar had parked up outside. Your real fantasy had been to see your girlfriend corrupted into a leathered biker queen, and this bull’s sportscar was close enough at least, but was this what you really wanted? Your heart felt like it would explode through the meeting, the feigned catch-up, you thought you were going to be sick when they left through the front door. But when you heard the rev of the engine and your girlfriend pulling away in a stranger’s car, a quiet descended on your mind… and you felt a stirring in your crotch.

A picture arrived in your inbox a week later. You’d had a steady stream of texts from her the first three days, they slowed after that, and she left you on read by day 6.. This was day 8.

“We’ve been on a little roadtrip.”

You couldn't believe your eyes. This had to be fake? Your girlfriend was covered in tattoos, glasses gone, full face of makeup, her nails had been done, her hair tied back. She was sat in front of the same white car she had left in, but there was no way she would wear anything like that - tight, form fitting black material, and those shoes?! She looked like porn. The way she looked at the camera too, you had never seen that look before - entitled, expectant.. even aroused? Another text.

"You can't believe it can you?"

"Hahahaha you fucking loser."

"You know all she needed was to actually feel desired?"

You were reeling. Of course you wanted this girl.. But this wasn't the plain girl you fantasised about corrupting just to spice up your sex life, the same girl you shared pictures of with other men because you couldn't cum any other way, the girl you avoided having sex with because you wanted to masturbate in the bathroom instead...

No.. This was the girl that was inside her all along. But you never realised that. You were about to type a response but another text came through.. a voice note..

It started with a woman's laugh, and then: "Daddy told me all about your sick little plan~ God what a fucking loser I was dating.. You know, all this time I thought I was the problem. But daddy wanted me, I felt that the first time he put his arm around me, the first night we parked up outside that motel... He wanted me to be my best self.." The voice note trailed off into a small giggle.. "I can't believe you even thought I was yours to give away."

You felt that same sickness welling up inside you. The one you felt when the two of them left. You tried to type, but no words came to mind, you were pathetic, how could you argue with that; all you could think of to type was: "I'm sorry".

As you sat, alone, in bed that night, still in shock, you felt your phone buzzing. It was a video call from your girlfriend. Your heart started to beat again, a thousand times a second, but you had to pick up, just for a chance to say sorry, to tell her what she meant to you, to tell her that from now on you would just be honest to her.

You never got that chance. Instead he picked up, speaking before you even got the chance:

"Hhahaha, 'sup loser. So, in case you haven't realised. There never was any deal - I decided to make her mine."

You started to speak but he cut you off again:

"I decided I'll let you watch though."

And for some reason you couldn't stop watching.

He turned the camera round to reveal your girlfriend, face made up, collar round her neck, sitting on a motel bed, breathing heavily, expectantly. You saw a strong hand reach down and caress her face.

And for some reason you couldn't stop yourself getting hard.

It felt like hours. You watched another man stroke your girlfriend's face, feed her his fingers. You watched his muscles flex as he moved past the camera, the true image of a man who took what he wanted. What he wanted was your girlfriend. That much was clear when he pulled up her skirt, fondled her bare ass.

And for some reason, hearing her moan, you couldn't stop yourself reaching into your shorts.

As you watched him slide her onto his lap, now stripped to underwear you'd never seen before, as you watched her face soften, gave in to his assured touch, as you watched your ex-girlfriend melt onto his perfect cock, you couldn't help but stroke, stroke to the girl she was becoming. She was becoming someone else, someone you'd never know, but she was also becoming your dream - a woman that no man could ever resist.

You were still jerking when the video stopped.

No one hung up, you were still watching them intently, watching her moan as he tasted every inch of her, watching her body grind into his, imagining with every fibre of your being that it was you doing that to her. No, you suddenly became aware that the video stopped because they forgot about you. The phone had run out of battery after two hours. No one in that room realised you were even still there.

Every one of your sick little fantasies had come true and you had lost her. She was falling in love with another man, becoming better than you ever believed she could be, and you were still masturbating to the thought, alone, in your pathetic mess.

And that's how she found you. A week later. In a filthy apartment, you were jerking your tiny cock to that photo of her in front of that fucking car, jerking to every call she refused to pick up, and then the bell rang. She had come to pick up her things. Well, the expensive stuff.

You almost came on the spot.

[doctorjohcoy]

manhating dyke ancestors possess me every time i hear about a man like that <- (has known and heard about men like that entire life from women in my life)

[oceantornadoo]

toxic but in love fwb!simon with some hurt/comfort

“i know your gala is important, si, but can’t you come? just this once i just want-“ you were wringing your hands, twisting them into unfamiliar shapes as you argued with simon, your situationship. you two were always like this, pushing and pulling at the boundaries of your relationship. moon and tide, destined to move each other but never close enough. “we’re not dating an’ i have a work thing. can’t come.” he shrugged nonchalantly, turning his head so he couldn’t see the pleading look on your face. instead, he pushed himself off your couch and reached for his jacket by the door. the silence in the air turned sour, some dark ugly thing created by him. his heart was a dead thing inside his chest, unable to muster a beat or two for you. he wanted to. a want so deep it ran in his blood, turning him cold. “fine. see you in six months or whatever.” your voice was stony, bitter. you reached for the tv remote and unpaused the show you two were watching, trying not to care about the sounds of him lacing his boots and grabbing his keys. you were done, done with this tug of war. you felt his stare drill through the side of your head as he put on his mask, the final bit to his ensemble. he might think that’s what got him named ghost, but it was really this, this act of playing human when he just didn’t care. he was a poltergeist in your life, knocking things out of order but refusing to show when it mattered. you were done.

one night later and here you were at your first art show, the debut of your career. dressed in your fanciest attire, second glass of champagne in your hand as you tried to network your way through the room. your feet ached from your shoes and there was an itch in your back you couldn’t quite reach, but you put on your best smile as another potential buyer went on and on about their summer in the hamptons. simon wasn’t here but it was fine. the tears you had been swallowing back for the past thirty minutes were just tears of joy at your accomplishments, nothing more. you thanked the buyer and turned the corner, finishing off your glass as you took a much needed break. suddenly a hush went over the crowd, a slight silence broken by a small quip. the room went back to normal but you went to check it out anyways, hoping it wasn’t someone making a bad comment about your work.

you arrived at the entrance and almost passed out at the sight before you. four men-no, machines, dressed in full military regalia stood in front of you. soap and gaz were already working the crowd while price was entertaining one of your donors, but your eyes were focused on ghost. ghost, who traded his balaclava for a more crowd-friendly medical mask, stood in front of you with a bouquet of carnations and a bottle of wine. you approached him slowly like you would a skittish animal, taking patient, methodical steps. “read carnations are for celebrations.” he said, almost sheepishly, as he mechanically thrust the bouquet towards you. you took it out of instinct, eyes still focused on his. “you came?” you said unbelievingly. simon was here, simon brought his friends, simon brought you gifts? he had to have been drugged or something. there was no way. “you called.” he answered, breaking out of his awkwardness. “‘m sorry for yesterday. knew i was coming, jus’ gave you a hard time. had to celebrate my girl’s first show.” your mouth dropped at that. my girl. “but…but we’re not dating?” you took a step forward, the rest of the room falling away as his gloved hand touched your cheek, brushing back the wrinkles on your forehead. “d’ya want to, lovie? was at this gala all night, thinkin’ bout how fun it would’ve been to have you there with me. makin’ fun of all those puffed up generals.” you let out a small chuckle and his back straightened, encouraged by the sound of your laughter. he loved the sounds of your laughter, your drunk giggles and your loud snorts. most especially he loved the sharp barks of surprise you made, the ones you gave when something or someone made you happy without expecting it. like now. “yes. if you’re sure.” the foggy emotions in your head were finally clearing, letting in the sun. his warm eyes caressed your face, pride evident in his face. “‘m sure.” he sealed it with a kiss to your forehead, not wanting to be unprofessional at your work event. simon felt something in his chest. maybe a heartbeat. maybe he had one after all.

—

thought of the “you came? you called” tiktok audio with this one. currently on my period so y’all will only be getting emotional stuff for the next couple of days 🫶

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Really? You'll Wear It?

Sitting at the kitchen table to do your makeup had turned out to be the easiest option. Johnny had popped by earlier in the day while Simon ran some of his errands. He would follow you from room to room as he chatted at you. You could almost bet that his words got trapped when he was on a job and he needed to let them all out.

Johnny had flopped onto your bed, messing with your neatly placed stuffies and made bed, while you changed into the dress hanging on your door. Gary had asked you to dinner and sent a gorgeous velvety dress. They had started doing that, asking you on dates. You wondered, as you stepped into the dress, if they talked about it. No one ever asked you out when you already had a date planned. The dress hit your thighs and stalled. Cursing you stepped out of it and pulled it on over your head.

Johnny had started to toss one of your small stuffies above his head.

"My mam has started to try and set me up with a local girl and won't listen when I tell her that no woman in her right mind would put up with my schedule. When she tries to argue and when I point out that a woman out of her mind would be a worse option than no woman at all she just shakes her finger at me and sends me off to deliver her sweets to whoever she is trying to see me up with."

"Next time tell her you're into men and that might shut her up. Now can you come zip me up?"

He popped up, a body shaped dent in your previously flat blanket. He notices the face you pull at it.

"Ah, sorry bonnie. I'll fix it. Now give us a spin," he spins a finger in a circle. "Though you might be onto something about me mam."

He pulls the zipper with expert ease.

"You might have to bring a man home to truly sell it though," you muse. Matriarch MacTavish had a hankering for all her children to be wed, fed, and steady on in producing her grandchildren.

Dress situation handled, you start gathering your mirror and makeup.

"I could take you home?" He joked as he fixed your bed to look just as good as before.

"I don't dare risk your mam's ire when we "break up" because you found someone you actually want," you roll your eyes and head to the kitchen. "Why not ask Simon? I doubt your mam will question him if you're actually dating."

"You don't know that she won't," he mutters as he follows.

Johnny is uncharacteristically quiet as he settles in next to you at the table. He slumps forward, head resting on his upper arm as he plays with the earring dangling from your ear.

Noticing the silence from your constant motion friend you let it ride. His hand stays where it could reach the earring even as you turn your head to and fro in the mirror.

When his question comes it is quiet, contemplative. "What makes you think I don't want you?"

You study your eyelashes instead of looking at him. "You're one of the most sexual people I know Johnny, I would never be able to satisfy that need for you."

He hums deep in his throat in response, letting the topic die. His eyes scratch lines in your skin. He speaks again when you are adding the final touches to your lips.

"Why do you wear these earrings so often?"

"They were a gift from Gary." The question in his tone clicked in your brain. "If you gifted me jewelry I would wear it too."

He sat up now, eyes bright as a pup who heard the word walk.

"Really? And if I made it?"

You glance at him with a smile, "Even better."

Eyes bright he leans in for a kiss, ruining your lipstick, before bouncing up and out the front door.

You call after him, angry that you need to fix your face again. He simply laughs and shuts the door behind him.

Two weeks later a small package is delivered to the cafe when you are on shift. You sign for it and offer the delivery man a drink at half price. He accepts and waves as he leaves.

Grabbing a pair of scissors you open the small box. Inside is a jewelry box, the velvety texture reminding you of the last time you saw Johnny.

Opening it you let out a gasp as you see a delicate necklace that reminds you of chainmail. Small, interlocking circles form a diamond that hangs from a long chain as you pull it free. Setting the box on the work counter you put it on. Grabbing up your phone you send a picture to Johnny telling him you owe him an extra kiss for such a wonderful gift.

Setting your phone down you see a note in the shipping box you missed before.

Every good heart needs protection from time to time. - Johnny

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[hotheadedhero]

Like 'em Big

AN: I have so many stories to write but I had to do this. Blaming being sick, m'kay? Fever has got me bad and these meds got me loopy. Thinking we need some good, silly fun in our lives, right? Plus, now that I've watched Rise, I'm hungry for some big Raph appreciation. I know I ain't the only one

Part 2

All characters are aged up

Raphael x Reader

Warnings: near peril, easily smitten, possible errors due to fever (what kind of fever is up for deliberation🥴)

Cutting right to the chase. You like big dudes. That doesn't necessarily mean muscles, either. You just love you a big man - someone with a bit of something-something to them. More to love, you know? Given your track record with the greater world, it shouldn't be all that much of a mystery. Cats? Get yourself a tiger that you can cuddle into. Jumpers? Comfort central, baby. Beds? If you can't spread eagle then you see no point. The old-age saying does declare that the bigger the better, so who are you to disagree? How true that is may be up for debate but it’s merely as simple as understanding what your preferences are.

However, this makes dating a difficult ballpark to play in. No matter how tall, jacked, or voluptuous someone is, it never feels like enough. Human biology and genetics can only go so far in the conceivably possible sense. You just want to be absolutely engulfed when you get a hug. Is that such a crime? Apparently, it is. Unfortunately, you also seem to come across the worst jerks when you attempt to date within this set of criteria. One might argue it's your karmic justice for being so superficial and picky but a woman has needs. Not those kinds of needs, either. Get your head out of the gutter.

All hope seems lost and after yet again, another failed date, you decide to call it in for the evening and make your way home. A fresh failure and another wonderful outfit gone to waste. By no means is it anything flashy but you put a lot of work into it: pencil skirt, turtle neck sweater, and a nice pair of boots to compliment the look. The whole shebang! All of that effort for nothing. This is the last time you spend three hours doing your hair and makeup. Block after block, your feet grow heavier with every step. What you would give to come across a mountain-like man you can climb who is also a kindred spirit. Perhaps this dream guy will forever be that - a dream. Men like that don't just fall out of the sky.

"Look out!!"

The sudden shout almost scares you into tripping over and you look behind yourself, wishing you hadn’t. Two very large, very dangerous-looking figures entangled in battle, those of which are approaching your helpless little self. You quickly duck as the giants hurdle over you. One falls on its side whilst the other claws and skids against the ground, regaining its balance. It shakes its head and locks onto you, a guttural snarl rumbling past its jowls. Such a creature is surely from the stuff of nightmares. An indescribable nightmare whose sights are set on you. The smart option would be running away but it's as though your shoes have melted into the pavement. Pawing into the tarmac, the beastly thing growls and lunges for you. Great. This is how you die: torn limb from limb by a demon dog. Well, assuming your clothes join you, at least you’ll look like a total babe in the afterlife.

"Oh no ya’ don't," the other one yells from behind the predator, grabbing it by its tail. “Pretty ladies are not food!”

With a mighty tug, he pulls it back and swings it as far away from you as possible. You release a shaky breath, legs trembling beneath you. That was far too close for comfort. The fight isn’t quite over, however. Just as it approaches him, the green goliath swivels on his feet, full 180, and whacks the creature's jaw with a closed fist. His speed alone has you in awe but the force is astounding, practically earth-shattering. It completely knocks the air around you and pushes you onto your backside.

When the dust clears, the first thing you see is your saviour panting, his spiky shell(?) pointed towards you. Just past him in the distance, you notice three more figures in blue, purple, and orange taking a closer look at the unconscious tyrant. You swear one of them pokes at it with a stick. Witnessing strange beings such as this isn't entirely new. Anyone who's watched Chateau Pretenche knows about the celebrity chef turning into a grotesque pigman. To describe it in one word? Horrifying. It's just whether people choose to believe it genuinely happened or if these bizarre entities exist. Being up close and personally observing it now puts your scepticism in check.

As the humanoid turtle calms, he turns to face you, recapturing your attention. A red mask sits over his eyes and there’s a noticeable snaggle tooth poking past his upper lip. Typically, the prerogative is keeping out of sight but it’s much too late for that. He gradually advances towards you. You watch him warily and he keeps his movements slow for that very reason. It wouldn’t be a shock if you were to try and make an escape. He wouldn’t blame you. Currently, all he wants to do is make sure you weren’t hurt during that fiasco provided you don’t suddenly come out of your bewilderment and run off. You have good reason to but he just saved you. Either that or he’s as ravenous as that beast and wants you all to himself. The irrational conclusion remains as such - irrational - when he descends to one knee and outstretches a hand. There’s an irrefutable kindness in his eyes; a caring nature that can’t be replicated in the face of savage brutes.

"You okay?" he asks.

You continue to gawk without a word but, bit by bit, you reach out for his offer. Your fingers lightly trace the centre of his palm before comfortably trusting the proposal. His hand engulfs yours completely and Raph hopes to mercy that you don’t realise how sweaty he’s getting. He can feel his heart beating like crazy. He wonders how much of that is the adrenaline from the fight and how much of it is being in the presence of such a beautiful gal. As he helps you to your feet, he rises to his own. Someone of his stature shouldn’t be capable of being this delicate but he is. It has you running through a loop and you unintentionally stare at the remarkable behemoth.

Quite pathetically, you nod, unable to verbally respond to his question. How can you? You are effectively starstruck. Once you gloss over the turtle-y features, all you see is the sheer size of him as he towers over you. Height, width, the magnitude of those arms! All of it is glorious. You can hear the universe asking, “You want a big man, huh? How about one who isn’t human?” to which you answer, “Who gives a damn?”. If the only way a man can be this big is not to be human, so be it.

Amidst a whisper, your mouth moves on its own, "You're beautiful."

"What?"

"Huh?" Blinking out of your trance, you realise what you’ve said and giggle sheepishly, "I mean, you're be... ba... booming! Totally awesome with the whole- uh... saving thing." Nailed it. 

He blinks right back down at you. This is certainly a first. He can feel his face heating up and he withdraws his hand lest you endure the wrath of his bashfulness, opting to hold the back of his head. At this moment, he seems to look anywhere but you.

"Heh. Gee, thanks." His humility is adorable and you’re glad he doesn’t question your initial statement. He turns to you once more, regaining some composure. "You sure you're okay, though? That thing was pretty scary looking."

It’s clear that you haven’t sustained any physical injuries but even bearing witness to something so unsightly can have lasting effects on one's mind. His brows furrow gently in concern down at you and it occurs to you that there’s a soft heart under all of that shell and muscle. Bonus points. This makes you smile for the first time in front of him and Raphael is sure that the streetlights got brighter.

You laugh fondly, “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you.” Twiddling your fingers, your lips purse up in his direction.  “Is there any way I can repay you?”

He places his hands on his hips and chuckles cutely, “Just doing my duty, ma’am.”

He may be indulging in his alter ego - the Red Angel of Preventing Harm - but it’s not every day he gets paid thanks when he saves someone. It’s also not every day he gets to save such a pretty woman, either. You, however, can’t just leave it at that. There must be some way in which you can properly thank him. Ulterior motives include getting to know this already loveable lug better but shh. It feels like the odds are finally turning in your favour and you won’t let this slip away from your grasp. That’s when it hits you.

Muttering under your breath, you erratically search through the confines of your little handbag. You are certain that you had one in here somewhere. In the spare pocket maybe? Ah! Found it. Fumbling to take the lid off of your pen, you hold out your hand, gesturing for his. He slowly complies, to which you jot down a series of digits on his palm accompanied by your name and a tiny 'x'. 

"Gimme a text sometime," is the last thing he hears before you disappear around a corner.

Oh? Oh. Ohhh. Wow. Getting your number is the last thing he expected. Did he get hit on the head during that scuffle or something? Was everything from the last few minutes a dream? He bores holes into the writing on his skin, scanning it over and over, scared that it’ll disappear if he so much as blinks. A dumb, wobbly smile not so gracefully decorates his lips as he trudges back to the turtle tank. He takes his seat but it’s obvious that he isn’t all there. Being so caught up in his rose-tinted bubble, he doesn’t register his brothers' voices. In an effort to gain his attention, Michelangelo jumps onto his shoulder, partly intrigued by what their leader is so absorbed by.

"Oh me gosh!” the young brother screams in shrill excitement, “Raph's in love!"

Careful not to smudge the neat ink, he’s quick to hide his hand against his chest. "That's crazy talk!”

Donatello sniffs the air and mockingly covers his nose. "The overwhelming manifestation of your nervous stink indicates otherwise, dear brother."

"I got a girl’s number!” he continues to defend, feeling his face go all kinds of red. “'Course, I'm nervous but that don’t mean I’m in love."

Lies and slander. It was practically love at first sight. He just doesn’t like the idea of his brothers knowing that. It’s easy pickings to be made fun of.

"Don't worry, Big Red. Lucky for you, you got a guy who knows all about the charm." Leonardo points both thumbs at himself as he falls back into his seat and props his legs up on the dashboard. "First, you just need to..."

The "helpful" advice drowns out as the large snapper opens and gazes at his palm again. He just can't comprehend how a gorgeous individual such as yourself could take one look at him and give him your number. It's puzzling but he supposes there’s a first for everything? That also doesn't mean he won't text you. The only thing getting in the way of that is fear. Raphael thinks he’d rather go toe-to-toe with that mutant dog again than have to face the risk of embarrassing himself. To anyone who knows him, it’s no surprise that he caves under pressure. No. He will do it! A chance like this is one in a million.

Oh boy. What could possibly go wrong?

[ghostedgrim]

She's all that is about the popular guy being dared to date the "nerdy girl" by his so called friend, he takes the dare but ends up falling for her. She finds out and they have a fight and break up. He wins her back in the end. Take it anyway you want! I do want Eric to be jealous as hell after they break up when other guys start taking an interest in reader!!

She's All That pt.1

Pt2. Request page. Masterlist

Warnings ⚠️: Getting dared to pretend to date someone, implied violence, jealousy,

"Eric, with all so respect, you're a Dauntless leader, yet you've been single since day one." The music in the bar is so loud that for a moment Eric almost didn't hear him.

"Personally James, I don't see how that's relevant. I have enough hookups to satisfy me plenty, I don't need some girl or whatever. Relationships I just a bothersome hassle."

"I bet you don't have a single romantic bone in your body."

"That's what you think, James," the bartender hands Eric a plate of food and leaves her number on the receipt. "Now if I were an unromantic man, that woman wouldn't have given me her number just now."

"Okay whatever, we both know you're good at getting men and women into your bed, but can you handle a full on relationship?"

"Yes, I just prefer not to, I don't need it" Eric shrugs.

James smirks and holds up his wallet. "Prove it then, date y/n then, the ex Erudite girl from your iniation class. You don't have to love her back, just make her love you. Do it and I'll pay for your next tattoo."

"Fine, how long do I have?"

"I'll give you about a month."

"Then we have deal James."

Is drinking by the chasm stupid? Yes. Do I care? Absolutely not, not when I've been on a week long trip to Amity to handle Dauntless soldiers who forgot their mission and decided to play with the Amity girls. My job is to train and direct Dauntless soldiers, yet most days I find myself spanking ass because they don't know how to behave.

"God I should've stayed in Erudite." I groan. Obviously it isn't true, the people there were cruel, liars, manipulators, vain, but I must admit I missed all the reading and research I'd done throughout my time there.

"Saying stuff like that would get you killed," I damn near jump out of my skin at the sound of the deep rumbling voice behind me. I turn around to see Eric standing right behind me. He wraps an arm around my waist to stable me, and guide me away from the chasm as I sway. "Long day?"

"More like a long week," my hard scowl meets his cold grey eyes, "What do you want Eric?"

He looks at me with a prideful expression, "I wish to take you out on a date. Don't worry about work tomorrow I'm assigning you a day off."

I scoff, taking another sip of my drink. "Me? Hookup with you? Not interested."

Eric falters for a moment, a small tick in his jaw, before returning to that prideful arrogance. "Good, I'm not interested in a hookup. Meet me tomorrow at 8pm by the train, I'd like to get to know you, nerdy and all."

Before I could even argue he walks away, that entitled ass really thinks I'll just go where he tells me because he said it's a date. I wonder if he uses that method with every girl he hooks up with. Either way I'm not going.

"I'm not going." I remind myself for the uptinth time today. I'm laying on my stomach atop a skyscraper, sniper rifle in hand. Every shooting range in Dauntless is underground except for the rifle range. Every target is at least a mile away, and every night they're moved to a new spot, hidden somewhere on the streets below, or hidden in a new room within the buildings around me. Sometimes, the targets are put on conveyors so they move around, and sometimes some are hidden so well you can only see a tiny sliver. To handle a gun that can shoot from miles away takes practice, and extreme smarts. Constantly I must calculate how the wind may effect my bullet, how far before gravity pulls it down, the most effective place to hit a target, arm to disarm, leg to stop them from running, chest or head to kill.

Only 7 people here in Dauntless have been trained and can handle a rifle and I'm one of those seven. It's one of the few jobs I can use to challenge myself. Kinda fascinating how using a gun takes so much math and knowledge in physics. None the less, I still train at least twice a week like the others.

I'm not fucking going! BANG!! My gun jerke violently, the bullet flies through the air landing perfectly onto the head of a far away target.

I look at my watch, "6:15." I'm not fucking going.

I readjust. BANG!!

I wonder what Eric could possibly have in mind for our date. Wait, why the fuck should I even care? I'm not even going.

It would be rude to stand him up though, and maybe he does actually like me, maybe he's finally going to be in a relationship and he actually chose me. I scoff, nah that's fucking stupid, as if Eric would think to pick me our of all the women already obsessed with him. I'm sure he'll live if stand him up.

BANG!! I miss by a whole 5 feet. "Fucker."

BANG!! I miss again...

It's 7:58, I'm standing by the train tracks wearing my nicest black dress, combat boots, and my favorite gun and dagger holstered to my thigh beneath the skirt of my dress. I even did my makeup. Fuck me, why the Hell did I fall for this crap?

I watch the train approach. "Where the Hell is Eric? Is this a prank?" I fail to hear the frantic footsteps from behind me. I barely have time to process anything before there's an arm around my waist and I'm getting dragged into a train car.

"Sorry I'm late, had some last second paperwork to handle. Thank God I made it in time to catch the train. You okay?" Eric is wearing his typical black cargo pants, combat boots, his black shirt is tight fitting and pared with a black jacket, his hair is in it's signature style and everything. Why the Hell am I about to swoon?

"I'm uh, yeah I'm fine." I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear as I regain my footing. "For a moment I was scared you stood me up."

Eric scoffs, "Stand up a beautiful girl like you? I'd rather punch a brick wall." He sits down on the threshold of the door, letting his legs dangle out of the traincar as we race through the city. "Come sit," he pats his thigh.

If he's dissapointed I didn't sit on his lap he doesn't show it as I sit across from him. Unlike him I keep my legs inside the train car. "So uh..." I click my tounge, "why did you ask me out in a date, and why did you do it without the intent of hooking up? Last time I checked you never had time for a girlfriend."

"You've never been asked out before-"

"Oh so you're asking me out as a joke? Or pity? Because I'm not staying if that's the case." Eric appears to panic for a moment and quickly grips my shoulder as I try to stand.

"I wasn't finished," he states defensively, Eric's eyes stare deep into mine, their color cold as a winter storm, yet my cheeks warm and my heart stutters. I should probably check that with a doctor. "You and I came to Dauntless and went through iniation at the same time, if I recall correctly you ranked 10th place out of 35 initiates. Now you're not only training and directing Dauntless soldiers, but you're also apart of the only seven people here in Dauntless capable of handling a sniper rifle. I think I have every reason to be curious about you, because the fact that nobody has asked you out is baffling, especially considering how stunning and powerful you are."

Never have I expected a man like Eric to say such words. Stunning? Powerful? I know I'm strong, no idea where he gets the idea I have good looks, but honestly, I feel like I'm the hottest girl in Dauntless after hearing those words. Eric's hand rests atop mine, warm, strong, calloused from rigorous training, his eyes seem to trace my face, and suddenly I'm 16 and freshly transferred to Dauntless again. Eric was terrifying, but hot back then, he still is now just more tame.

I soon realize I've been gaping like a damn fish for minutes now and Eric's small chuckle breaks me from my trance. "I take it nobody has told you that before," he brings a hand to my cheek, his expression soft, "let me be the one to change that, to show and tell you just how amazing you are."

I used to imagine how his lips would taste. t

Then I turned 17 and pushed it from my mind because I was convinced Eric would never love me. He would always be too busy chasing tail to even notice me. But now his eyes are on my lips, his tounge even darts out for a moment to lick his bottom lip. He then looks back at my eyes, he leans in the hand on my cheek pulling me closer. "You smell like strawberries." Our lips are almost touching, his warm breath fanning across my jaw, he smells like gunpowder, cedarwood, and whiskey. I can barely hear anything over my pounding heart. I close my eyes, leaning forward to close the distance between us.

"Shit!" I open my eyes as Eric frantically pulls himself away from the door and the traincar is encased in darkness for several seconds until we leave the small tunnel. "Fuck," Eric laughs, "nearly lost my damn leg." I can't help but to laugh with him.

"That would certainly be quite the traumatic first date." We settle down again the wall both looking out the open door across from us. "How about we just keep all our limbs inside the train for now?" Eric sighs, and we both relax taking in the sight and sounds of the dark clouds rolling in and the distance thunder. The train rolls through the miles of green, flat land between the city and Amity. You can still see the bright lights of the Erudite buildings. It's peaceful, and I can't help but just enjoy the moment rather than talk.

"I once lit my hand on fire." Eric says it so casually as if he were talking about the damn weather.

"You what! Please do tell." I smile like a little kid excited for candy. Eric smiles back and dives into the story of how in chemistry he accidentally covered his hand in lighter fluid, then instead of washing it off he thought it faster to just burn it off. Fortunately the fire lit and burnt out too quick to cause any permanent damage.

It's pouring by the time the train reaches the Dauntless sector. Eric jumps off, then I jump right after. I barely have time to finish standing before he's wrapping his jacket around me. "I would hate for you to catch a cold. Now let me walk you home."

I'm starting to think this is a dream.

Asking her out was one thing, I never meant to get attached. We've been dating for almost a month now. Every time I see her my heart stops, and all I can do is admire her like some dumb schoolboy with a crush. Never in my life did I think I could actually fall in love, and never did I think I would stay up all night imagining what it would be like to kiss a girl, let alone replaying the sound of her laughter in my mind over and over. She's strong, smart as Hell, arguably smarter than me, and gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous I could drown in her arms. Honestly if she suffocated me I'd probably thank the damn woman.

"I'm fucked, I'm so utterly fucked." I spend maybe another hour in bed with nothing but my boxers on. I'm already running late, but fuck it, it won't kill Max if I'm late for work just once.

I'm quick to change clothes and rushed out of my home to search for y/n. I find her in the training room running a small squad through some drills. Without a single care I kiss her cheek, "Good morning, my dagger. Sorry for interrupting, but I just needed a small taste of you to get through my day." Her cheeks are dusted in red, and fuck she's just so damn cute it stabs my heart, and then her expression snaps back to stone and she shoos me away.

I catch James in the small squad of men, he's smiling and my heart drops as I remember our bet. I take my time walking up to my office. "How the Hell am I going to escape this?"

Today was exhausting, and I received far to many lewd comments about my relationship with Eric than I'd like. But now I can finally go visit Eric at the bar. For a guy known to be heartless and terrifying he's an amazing boyfriend.

Many people, especially Four, had warned me that Eric was likely dating me as a joke, but I highly doubt he'd continue fake dating me for a whole month as a joke. It's definitely not a joke. Yeah he can be mean, really mean, and cruel, especially to initiates, and yes he's heartless to seemingly everyone here in Dauntless but he has exceptions for certain people... I'm important to him, he's not dating me as a joke, sure he's capable of being that cruel but... he isn't doing that... right?

I try to shake the uneasy thoughts from my head, their just stupid fears, that's all. I pull on Eric's jacket and quickly make my way down to the bar.

I've been sitting alone at this table for nearly 20 minutes, and I can feel the eyes on me. My stomach is a storm of unease, and my doubt is ever growing. This isn't the first time Eric has been late to a date. When we first started dating, he had been cocky, full of himself, half the time it sounded like he was trying to talk me into bed. Despite our first date, it had taken me a while to finally, truly open up to him, to trust him, and believe he wouldn't hurt me. Yet here I am, sitting alone at a table a week later.

It's been a fucking hour, and I swear I can hear the whispers, feel the eyes. The waitress looks at me with contempt, as if she's won something and I lost at whatever she was winning it. My unease eventually turns to frustration and soon I'm walking through the dimly lit halls in search of Eric.

"Fuck me man, and here I thought you were incapable of a relationship." James, without a damn doubt that's his voice.

"Well I'm full of surprises." Eric? That's definitely him. Why the Hell is he with James instead of me, and why are they talking about relationships?

I stalk closer to where I'd heard them speaking, James is running his mouth about a girl's ass making it easy for me to find the two men, and watch them while remaining unseen.

"Have you both kissed, better yet fucked?" James asks and it makes my stomach turn sour. Kissing is fine, but asking about my sex life is not. Not that I have one, yet.

Eric huffs, "no we haven't had sex, and unless you count kissing on the cheek, then we haven't kissed yet."

"Ah, so in that case it isn't love." James has a concerningly victorious look.

"Just because we haven't kissed doesn't mean she isn't in love with me. She's never kissed a guy before, let alone have sex." Eric sounds somewhat annoyed.

"Well damn, a virgin, and unkisssed, I think I may need a taste myself. It's been awhile since I've tried a girl like that. Though-"

"James," Eric warns, his voice deep and posture tense. I wish I could see Eric's face, but all I can see is his back.

"Fine, fine, so you claim she's in love with you. Now I can argue that, but I saw the way that girl looked at you when you visited her last week. She looked at you the way a girl looks at a puppy." James shrugs, and then his eyes lock with mine and he smiles. "It seems I've lost our bet Eric. You can be romantic, and you are capable of making any girl, even ugly miss grumpy, genuinely fall for you. I can't wait to watch her face and see her cry when you tell her you're whole relationship has been fake."

"James-"

"Then aging you should definitely keep dating her. Think about it, maybe she'll stop being so closed off and grumpy, better yet, she'll stop being so strict on my squad. Perhaps you can make her give me a few promotions."

"Playing with her emotions to make her date me and fall in love was-"

I don't think, I just run. I don't stop running, not until my legs give out and I find myself sitting in a train car. That asshole! I trusted him, I loved him, and yet that fucker was using me for his own sick gain! My comm link keeps ringing, and in my frustration I stupidly throw it out of the train.

I'm crying so hard I can barely breathe, my chest hurts like Hell, and my vision is so blurry from tears that I can barely see shit. It was fake, it was all fake. Everything he said was fake! I was nothing to him! Absolutely nothing!

I curl up, and I hate myself for doing it, but I pull his jacket tighter around me. "Gods how can I be so fucking stupid... they warned me, so many fucking times and I ignored them like an idiot."

The sun is rising by the time I get off the train. It's freezing cold, snow covers the street and snowflakes fall from the sky. I glance at the cameras as I walk back to the compound. No doubt Four is watching me through them, or is already at my apartment with a whole essay of a lecture awaiting me. I don't even know if I have the energy to keep walking. So I just lean against a brick wall inside an alley.

I don't know how much time has passed, I'm shivering uncontrollably but I just can't seem to move.

"Y/n." His voice is deep, soft, and full of warmth and I find myself crying all over again.

"Four, I... you were right I-" He interrupts me with a tight hug and kisses my forehead.

"Later, let's just get you home and warm." Four bundles me up in a spare jacket and scarf he brought before picking me up and carrying me home. The exhaustion hits me hard and I unwillingly let myself drift asleep.

I'm bundled in thick warm blankets when I wake up, two warm hands hold one of mine. I finally open my eyes. I'm in my bedroom, Four is leaning against the wall near my door, his knuckles scabbed, and splattered with blood. Confused I look to my left to see who the Hell is holding my hand. To my suprise it's Eric. His gaze is locked on our hands, eyes are rimmed in red, bruises decorate his jaw, right eye, and possibly other places, even his nose looks broken.

"Why the fuck are you here?" Eric's head snaps up and he looks at me in such a way that I'm convinced he actually does love me.

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, what happened- no, what I did was wrong. You didn't deserve any of that." A tear slips down his cheek and I roll my eyes at his pathetic attempt of gaining my pity. "Yes, James and I made a bet with him betting I couldn't make you fall in love with me. It was wrong, and it was cruel for me to manipulate you like that-"

"Get out." I snap.

"Hear him out, trust me," Four interrupts. "We both know Eric isn't the guy to let himself get beat up, especially without throwing at least one punch back." It dons on me that Four beat the shit out of Eric, but that's not what suprises me, it's the fact that Four is utterly unscathed. Eric actually let Four beat him up after what he did to me.

"I- at first it was fun, but then I started to develop feelings and holy shit I fell. I fell hard and fast and I didn't know what to do." Eric's voice breaks and he looks away from me. "You were like a goddam dagger, burrowed deep into my heart and seared into my brain. I thought, maybe to could just let myself win the bet instead of calling it off, you'd never have to know and we'd get to keep dating. You don't have to forgive me, but please know ever I've told you, it was the truth and I do love you. I love you so much it hurts."

"A part of me wants to believe you, Eric. However, the other part of me knows you're nothing more than a lying manipulative snake. I don't want to ever see you again, don't talk to me, don't even look at me."

Defeated Eric finally rids himself from my room.

"What happened to James?" I ask Four.

Four smiles, "Eric broke his jaw."

I sigh, deep in thought, "Did Eric actually let you hit him."

"Pretty much. I found him outside frantically looking for you, I punched first before asking questions. I had already seen all I needed to through the cameras. He didn't fight back once, just stood there and took my beating. I yelled st him for quite a bit before dragging his ass here then returning to the security cameras and waiting for you to step off the train."

"Four?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. And if I ever act that stupid again, slap the shit out of me."

[seancekitsch]

HOT TO GO: an Adrian Chase x Reader x Rick Flag fic

Rick knows he shouldn't shit where he eats. Rick knows Waller would demote him in a second if she knew he was letting you and your de facto guard dog have special privileges on this mission. Rick knows he shouldn't take you up on your offer to play a game.

Warnings: threesome smut, drinking, smoking, slight knife kink, rick is a good man, reader and adrian are nuts, villain!reader, non canon compliant i like to play god and make people kiss, this is filthy, dirty talk, task force x neck bomb jokes, slight daddy kink, spitting, choking, reader is a little mean, its not poly but its certainly something

You know exactly what the file in ARGUS says about you. A boring little dossier about the full extents of your powers, your record, all of your known aliases (even the embarrassing ones), your allies, and even the common ways you’ve tried to escape capture. Nothing in the little folder says anything about your observation skills. 

Nothing about how easily you pick up on phone conversations, how easily you commit to memory a glance of words on a screen over someone’s shoulder. Nothing about how you take in the tiny details, changes in expression or exactly how many things you can use in a room to kill someone in increasingly resourceful and creative ways. 

Thats how you figured out Rick Flag has a type; a type that you fit into well. You didn’t mean to overhear his phone call with Waller, but you would be using it to your advantage. 

You know about June Moone, about your dear friend Harley, and now his blue eyes settling on you as you try to get in and get out of this mission without fucking about too much. He likes his girls a little messed up. You figure trying to unseat Green Arrow as mayor through completely legal means and then forcibly reforming the prison system does it for him. It helps for you that he’s attractive; that means you don’t have to just use him, you can enjoy him too. Who knows, you might even get to know him enough to admire him as much as you admire the man who named himself your personal protector. 

Adrian Chase had apparently put himself into prison in order to talk to you, inspired by your idea of justice and progress or something. He offered protection and you’re not one to turn down a free advantage. You didn’t exactly expect to like him though, knowing the reputation he has and the awkward way he approached you at first. But Adrian was quick to win you over, and you'd spent countless nights talking to each other through the bars of your cells. You even one night tried to "go on a date" in the mess hall. His humor turns you on though, his protection lets you run your mouth without consequences. He's killed for you before, and you damn well know he'll do it again. Waller even seems to know you're a package deal, seeing as she let the two of you be on this mission together. You don’t say it, but you hope this mission gives both of you enough time off your sentences to get out around the same time. You’d love to hang out with him free, even if you refuse to say it. Belle Reve doesn’t exactly allow conjugal visits, though. 

You watch your peripherals, Adrian on one side sipping his Corona and keeping the men of Task Force X away from you, Rick on the other side with his eyes tracing your curves as you sway to the music. Adrian to the naked eye looks like he’s not paying attention to you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. He sways awkwardly and scans the crowd, one eye always on you and his fingers every so often brushing against your leg. His way of checking in. Rick is more stiff, Rick is more obvious about watching you. You notice his fist clench when you brush your knuckles against Adrian’s arms. You notice how tight he holds his beer. You notice the fit of his pants. 

You catch on to the fact that Rick knows what Adrian is to you, because he only decides to make his move towards you when Adrian moves away to make two more drinks for you. 

You nod to the bar stool next to you, eyes not leaving the small crowd. Funny, you'd heard these missions are some kind of Suicide Squad, but here you were with the crew of sixteen still hanging on strong. 

“Great party, thanks for hosting,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm, although maybe you shouldn’t be too harsh on the guy. He’s not the guy that put a bomb in your neck.

“Sure,” he laughs, low and under his breath, and he clinks his beer bottle against your empty glass.

“Can I ask you something?” Rick slides up next to you at the bar, looking past you instead of at you. It’s clear he’s trying to sus out Vig, who is dancing back towards you with his two signature concoctions. You roll your eyes at the Colonel, but lean in anyway, pushing your chest closer.

“I don’t know why I’d talk to you, unless thats an order,” you snark at him, and maybe thats unfair, but it’s part of the game. 

“It’s not… don’t do that,”Rick dismisses your wide smile, the game of cat and mouse begun. You know exactly what he’s about to ask, but you have to make him work for it. 

“Why him?” he asks, eyes darting from you to the man behind you briefly. You smirk, of course he asks that. Probing, looking to see if he has a chance; thinking he’s being slick about it. Adrian turns back towards you as if summoned, his weird ability to just know making him come back as if the leash around his neck were tightened. He has another drink for you, pink and fizzy. 

You roll your eyes and grab the drink Adrian made for you from his hand, lifting it to your lips.

“Well, it was either him or Animal-Vegetable-Mineral Man,” you joke, voice deadpan as you punctuate your statement with a swig from the glass. You grimace. It’s almost all rum. Adrian is handsome but, my god, is he bad at ratios.

“Yeah…” Adrian joins the conversation eagerly, ready to agree with whatever you say before actually processing it. His eyes widen behind his thick glasses as he turns to fully look at you. He finally figured out what you were implying, and a smile slowly forms on your lips hidden by the rim of the glass.

“Wait really? But he’s got that, like, tree hand!”

You snort with laughter, and Rick cautiously laughs too. Like he’s in on the joke, you think. 

“It would be like that scene in Evil Dead, but consensual,” Adrian continues, his voice rising just like his concern. You roll your eyes at him, already expecting this reaction. Adrian talks big game about being unshakeable but you find it so easy to rile him up. 

“Calm down, Spaghetti Squash. You’re much sweeter than he is,” you pat Adrian’s cheek and he beams at you, wide mouthed and toothy and tipsy. You drag your hand slowly down his face, tracing his jaw before you let your hand fall back into your lap. 

“And Handsomer?” he fishes for the compliment, and you playfully frown at him. 

“You always ask questions you know the answer to,” you tease, and Adrian’s smile never fades. 

Rick must be feeling pretty voyeuristic right now, you think, watching two people who just plainly adore each other flirt and touch in front of him; but Rick also doesn’t flinch away from this, you notice. Maybe he likes watching. 

“He makes me laugh,” you answer your commanding officer, turning back to him finally.

“Is that a Who Framed Roger Rabbit quote?” He asks, brows furrowed, but a smirk on his face. Okay, play ball, Colonel Flag.

“See, Adrian? I told you Goody Two Shoes was a man of taste,” you glance up at Adrian again before focusing your attention back on Rick Flag. Zero in, Aim, Kill. 

“Is that how you see me?” he asks, a challenge. 

You tilt your head, a non-answer. Yes, kind of. He himself is good. Maybe too good. Thats probably why he does this silly little Icarus dance and gets too close to people who can and will burn him when they kiss. You glance down at his drink, then back at him and the light glistening of the residue of beer on his bottom lip, the way it shimmers in the light. 

Rick is handsome in a way Adrian isn’t. While Adrian is THE choice when it comes to general compatibility and attraction and survival, Rick is A choice. He’s serious, kind, and genuinely tries to see the good in everyone, even if there isn’t any to be found. He’s a gamble, mostly because he’s more willing to gamble. He would put his faith in you and hope you would be by his side even without a bomb in your neck. He’s built like Magic Mike. 

“Let Adrian make your next drink,” You tell him, lying, “He’s a master mixologist.”

Rick’s eyes move from you to your protector, whose gloved hand is now possessively on the back of your neck, right where the bomb was placed. 

“And why should I do that?” he counters. Adrian tenses. 

“Because maybe,” you grab Adrian’s hand and clasp it within yours, “We’ll let you keep drinking with us. You have my vote, you need to earn his.”

Rick laughs, and slumps back from you; his eyebrow twitches in curiosity. Hook, line, sinker. You squeeze Adrian’s hand. 

“And how would I do that?” Rick asks. 

You laugh as you take his free hand, leading both him and Adrian to another room. 

Rick doesn’t understand this game. 

All he knows is that he seems to lose every card he pulls, and at least half of the cards you pull. He went to college enough to know this is some deranged version of King’s Cup, but he doesn’t remember a rule that lets Adrian lick rum off of your chest or a rule that means you have to pop off a round when you pull the King. 

After his third seemingly bad card, he realized you were lying about the Vigilante’s mixing abilities. He’s a heavy pour with no eye for ratios, not unlike his heavy handed and uneven idea of justice. Rick figures thats why you and that maniac fit well, both twisted and curious and reckless in the same ways. It’s attractive in you though, as much as it is off-putting about Adrian. 

Ricks eyes follow Adrian’s tongue though, wet and flat and lavishing the liquor between your breasts, watching how he leaves goosebumps on your skin in his wake. He watches as Adrian shamelessly dips his face into the opening of your vest, realizing that he would push the younger man out of the way for his own turn if you gave him permission. Rick knows he shouldn't shit where he eats. Rick knows Waller would demote him in a second if she knew he was letting you and your de facto guard dog have special privileges on this mission. Rick knows he shouldn't have taken you up on your offer to play any game, let alone one involving alcohol.  

You seem to whisper something to Adrian, his rum soaked chin between your nimble fingers and he moves away to take his seat again. 

“My turn,” you smirk as you pull the next card from the deck, flipping it to show Rick instead of yourself. 

“Jack of Spades,” he tells you. Your eyes dart to Adrian before you smile at him. That can’t be good. 

“Never have I ever,” Adrian clarifies. Rick squints in confusion.

“I thought Jacks were categories,” he says, challenging the younger man. 

“Well now they’re not,” you chime in, something sweetly venomous in your tone, daring him to keep pressing the issue. Rick is a man that knows when to back down. 

He sighs as he puts up his hand, three fingers ready to go. You and Adrian both put up a hand as well, and you start as the card puller. 

“Never have I ever… fucked Harley Quinn,” you stare him down as you wiggle your fingers, a cheap shot at him. Rick will remember that. 

It’s his turn. 

“Never have I ever… been arrested,” Rick admits, and you narrow your eyes at him as you and Adrian both put down a finger. 

There’s a bit of pride in Rick’s posture as he settles in, all of you now on equal footing. 

“Never have I ever,” Adrian starts, then pauses, biting his tongue between his straight teeth, “Worked for a government that lies.”

It’s clear that was supposed to be a dig at Rick, competition between the two.

“Ade, baby, you’re doing that right now,” you whisper to him in a soothing voice, husky but gentle. His shoulders immediately drop in disappointment. 

“So you drink,” you tell him, nudging his hand holding the glass with your knuckle. He drinks, and puts another finger down, his admittance to defeat this round. 

“Okay, okay,” you draw the attention back to yourself, despite your eyes watching the way Adrian’s adams apple bobs as he swallows. 

“Never have I ever gotten a promotion.”

Again, Rick is the only one to put down a finger. Now he and Adrian have one finger up, and you still have your two. They’re on the same level, something they both have to be painfully aware of as you eye them up like you’ll catch and cook them. 

“Never have I ever gone to prom,” Rick offers quickly, shutting up any giggle that might be on your lips as you put a finger down, now tied with the men. 

“You poor things,” you muse, but Rick can tell you don’t mean it. There’s sarcasm on your tone that makes him think maybe the movie Carrie wasn’t too far off. 

“Never have I ever been an only child,” Adrian says, quickly, like hes trying to throw the whole game away. There’s something about how he shifts in his seat that looks like he’s starting to get antsy of it. 

Only you put your finger down. You’re out first, a fact that surprises you as much as it probably surprises the others as well.

“Shit,” you swear under your breath, and take a quick swig of your drink. 

“What do you want me to do?” you ask, refusing to look at either of them, your scowl settling into your features. Right, the loser has to do something for the winners.

Your file comes to mind for Rick, and your reactions to the failed mayoral race. 

Adrian wordlessly pulls you onto his lap, and your smile returns, if only briefly. 

“Dunno about Rick, but I want you right here,” Adrian tells you, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“Well, we can keep playing if you want,” Rick offers, “Y’know, we can all lose… learn a little bit more about each other.”

Anything so he doesn’t have to see that pout again. 

Fuck, Waller’s gonna skin him. 

You shrug, and he figures thats all he’s gonna get. 

“Never have I ever had a secret identity,” Rick offers, and Adrian happily puts his finger down. He’s out too. 

“Never have I ever,” you glance between the two men, and for the first time you look like you didn’t have one loaded in the barrel, “Had… a threesome.”

Rick’s eyebrows shoot up as he too puts a finger down, finally out as well. 

“No way, who?” Adrian asks, and this is maybe the first time Adrian has addressed him personally. 

“A good man doesn’t kiss and tell,” Rick replies.

“Boring,” Adrian says. 

And then he pulls a card, as if the air in the room had not just crackled with tension. 

Queen.

“So its questions?” Rick asks, hoping the rules haven’t changed again.

“Do you finally get it?” you reply, jumping right back into the game. 

“Why did it take you so long?” asks Adrian. 

“How was I supposed to know?”

“Aren’t you military trained?”

“Didn’t you say you knew we were crazy like an hour ago?”

“Hasn’t… ugh… shit,” Rick runs out of steam the questions firing too quickly. 

“Take your shirt off,” you don’t miss a beat, shrugging, “because you lost.”

If you had thought earlier that tonight would have gone as well this, you would have really thought you lost your mind. Adrian twitches, thrusting a little harder into you, an attempt at a poker face forced onto his face. Rick’s eyes trained on you, maybe the same way he trains his eye on a target. 

Rick leans back in his chair, in only his boxers, sweat coating his chest as he does nothing to hide the fact that he’s hard watching this display. 

Adrian lazily rolls his hips into you, your jacket partially obscuring what’s happening, but you know Rick isn’t stupid. He knows Adrian is fucking you, knows your skirt is pushed up in just the right way and your underwear pushed to the side. 

Adrian was barely subtle when he did it, rearranging you on his lap after the latest round of mini games had him losing his own gear and pants. You'd managed to be winning, your jacket and your skirt still on, your boots and vest tossed somewhere behind the chairs. He got handsy, big and warm and calloused against your skin. They traveled under your jacket, down your body, down your skirt. He hitched up. his knee, pushing you further back onto his lap, using his adjusting as an excuse to maneuver himself out of his boxers and under your skirt. You know you faltered, eyes fluttering as his length pushed against you, a shuddering gasp as you felt his hand pull your underwear to the side. 

Adrian, however, acted nonchalant. He joked and took swigs of his drink and talked with you and Rick as if he wasn't playing you like a fiddle, as if he was not positioning you to sit pretty on his cock. 

This is actually only the second time you’ve fucked Adrian. You don’t count hand stuff between the bars or weird touching in the mess hall when you have time out of your cell. You know his cock, but you’re still surprised at how amazing it feels when he fills you, sat on his lap and filled to the brim with him, the only movement his little thrusts pushing even deeper than you thought possible. 

Rick watches like a hawk, and you wink at him as he pulls another card. 

“Eight,” He reveals.

“Pick a date,” You explain.

He points at you, and you lean over to grab your drink. The change in angle makes you moan, and you do so shamelessly. 

“Ade, want me to grab one for you while I’m down here?” you ask, knowing another moan will escape you when you lean back again. 

“Fuckin… Yeah,” Adrian gasps. He’s so cute. 

You grab a card and pull yourself back up, attempting to bite back this moan. You fail as you lock eyes with Rick, something animalistic in his gaze. You shiver. Fuck. You want him too. You tear your eyes away from him to look at the playing card. 

“Ten,” you tell him. 

“Truth or dare! Alright!” Adrian is enthusiastic. 

“Okay, babe, truth or dare?” He asks you. 

“Truth,” you respond, deciding to play it safe at first. 

“Boring!” he exclaims, “ But, are you loving this right now?”

You nod, laughing as you lean into him. Again, Rick is a voyeur. 

“Rick,” you address him, still in Adrian world, still curled into him.

“Yeah?”

“You jealous?” You ask.

He’s silent for a moment, long enough for you to turn and look at him again, this time with hunger in your eyes. 

“Yeah, kinda.”

You laugh, a little too dark to be a giggle, a little too light to have malicious intent. 

“Truth or dare, Adrian?” Rick asks, which surprises you. 

“Truth,” he declares, and punctuates it by rolling his hips up into you again, dragging himself against you, and you bite your lip. A show. 

“Do you consider me a challenge?” he asks. Oh, it’s a dick measuring contest, you realize. 

He contemplates it, and then moves his hand to your face, his thumb on your lip. You open your mouth, taking the digit between your lips, sucking. 

“I don’t know how I could even think of you as a challenge. I mean…” He trails off, his index finger tapping your cheek. 

“Fair enough,” Rick concedes. 

“Truth or dare?” Adrian responds, to Rick, which surprises you. You look between the two men, stilling any motion, like the freeze frame before a fight. 

“Dare,” Rick all but snarls, clearly calling Adrian’s challenge. It's interesting, being fought over like this. People have fought over your resources, your power, your alliance, but never yourself. It's a bit of an ego trip, one that strokes you better than any cock could.

“I dare you to try and show her a better time than I could,” Adrian says, and then looks to you. 

His hips still as his eyes meet yours, a silent as if this is okay? You want this? And maybe, will you still pick me after all of this? His eyes are bright behind his glasses, not shying away from the fact that he’s watching you, his thumb still between your kiss swollen lips. You lead the charge, you let Adrian follow. Strangely loyal, awfully endearing. How is it that you spent your entire life in the Pacific Northwest without passing him earlier? 

You nod, giving him the okay, and take his hand into yours, pulling his thumb from your lips. You swivel your hips, quietly moaning as you resettle yourself in his lap, and let him press a possessive kiss on your neck.

“You sure?” you whisper to him, and he shrugs nonchalantly. Adrian doesn't really seem like the kind of guy that would be okay with this, but if he says so, you cannot deny it. 

Wordlessly, you motion for Rick to approach, and he crosses the room slowly. He gives you a show, his underwear leaving little to the imagination, the light layer of sweat making his muscles shine in the light. Rick smirks at you, easygoing despite how you can see his hand twitching. Is he sure he’s had a threesome before?

You lick your lips as he stops in front of you, and Adrian grabs for your jacket. You stare up at Rick expectantly as Adrian pulls the leather down your arms, baring your chest to the Colonel. His eyes travel down your body shamelessly, committing your body to memory, painting your portrait in his mind.

“So how should we…?” he trails off, not sure how to proceed. Adrian makes a decision for him, though, and puts his hands firmly on your hips. You’re not going anywhere, especially as he fucks up into you, the chair below him creaking. He snaps his hips to claim his place and also yours. You’re not going to fucking move. You gasp, hand reaching back to steady yourself against his firm chest, fingers flexing against his muscles. This doesn't deter Rick, however, who takes another step towards you, stopping just in front of your knees.

“Well?” you ask, expectantly, and his smirk turns into a smile as he huffs out a small laugh. Rick unceremoniously yanks down his boxers, already leaving little to the imagination but still you cannot hide the shock in your eyes when you finally see his cock. 

Rick’s cock is long, handsome as he is, and a delicious shade of pink. You reach out, fingers curling around the base of his cock as you smile up at him. If Rick didn't know better, he’d think you were an angel. Good thing he knows better.

You pump his cock at the same rythm Adrian fucks you, his thrusts and your fist moving in tandem. You’re mesmerized by the way Rick’s brows scrunch up, as if you've unlocked his kryptonite, attention being the thing to break through his attempted cool exterior. Its beautiful. He’s beautiful.

You laugh, lips breaking into a smile, and you bend forward, Adrians grip on your hips changing his angle inside you shifting. He groans behind you appreciatively, and one of his hands gives your ass a slap. Rick flexes, and rolls his shoulders back.

“Do you like that?” you ask him, your voice a seductive whisper. You don't slow your rhythm, you don't look away; Adrian doesnt slow his rhythm, Rick doesnt look away.

“I like you,” Rick responds, just as flirty. You laugh, breathy and light, never breaking eye contact with your commanding officer. You roll your hips, feeling Adrian’s hands tightening on you. 

“Of course you do,” you say with a roll of your eyes, finally breaking the contact. Your hand moves slowly, concentrating on running your thumb up and down the vein on the underside of his cock.

“Want some more?” he asks, stepping between yours and Adrian’s legs, his hand coming up to cup your jaw. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you hear from behind you, Adrian cursing as his hands loosen their grip on your hips. 

You sigh, you should have known this would happen. Adrian doesnt seem like the sharing type, even if Rick is. You release your grip on Rick’s cock, leaning away until you back touches Adrian’s chest. You look up at him, and he doesn't look at you. 

“Adrian?” you coo, voice venomously sweet. 

He grunts.

“Adrian?” you call to him again, voice like a song as you reach up and run a finger along his jawline. 

“What?” he practically spits the word.

“Honey, where is your cock right now?” you ask him gently as if you don’t both know, continuing to run your finger along his jawline, a comforting gesture. 

Finally, Adrian leans into your touch, and his arms wrap around your waist. One hand dips down, and he teases your clit. You gasp, moan turning into a giggle. 

“In this sweet pussy,” he answers. 

“Uh huh, so let Rick play a little. His presence here is an unethical power imbalance and I think he knows that. He’s gonna play nice with me,” you tell him, scrunching your nose at him cutely. You turn your attention back to Rick, raising an eyebrow to silently ask him if he agrees. He smiles slowly, and you reach out for him again.

Rick guides your hand back to his cock, letting you grasp him once more. 

Your teamwork resumes: Adrian You Rick, Adrian You Rick. Adrian setting the speed, the pace, leaning back in the chair for leverage to fuck up into you. Grunt, moan, gasp. Groan, gasp, moan. For the first time since the game started, you can actually hear the music floating through the air from the little radio. Some crooner sets the background for this devil’s threesome unfolding. 

You speed up your movements, breaking the rhythm, and Rick inhales sharply between his teeth, a loud and discordant noise that seems to break the spell. Adrian’s hands seize your hips roughly again, seeking to possess you. 

Fuck.

“Listen, Man,” Rick addresses Adrian awkwardly, his jaw twitching as you speed up your movements even more, your wrist working him over. 

“What, man?” Adrian asks, petulant and sarcastic. You didn't know he knew how to do that. He’s full of surprises, you think. 

“Don't you think I know what's happening here?”

Okay, that makes you pause. Maybe Rick is more perceptive than you originally thought. 

“Your girl here is trying to honey pot me,” he explains, his hand reaching down to adjust your grasp on him, tighter, “Am I right?”

You nod up at him, nervous for once. 

“She figures if she shows me a good time I’ll pull some strings to give you time enough off your sentences so you can be released together,” he explains, and Adrian’s grip on you softens, only to have his rough hand run up and down your side. 

“Are you gonna?” Adrian asks, his desire to be out with you overtaking his desire to comment on an unethical exchange of sexual favors. 

Rick only shrugs.

“Why not?”

That seems to be the only answer both men need, and you breathe a sigh of relief you didn't know you were holding. 

Adrian’s hand dips forward again to find your clit, and your next breath is a shuddering gasp. 

“You wanna be a honey pot?” he asks you, his pressure on your clit increasing, almost painfully. You nod, a needy whine escaping your lips. 

“Then show Colonel Flag how sweet you are,” he commands you, his lips now against the shell of your ear. He speeds up his fingers, panting into your ear as he shallowly thrusts into you, your bodies flush. You feel helpless, a moaning mess losing yourself to your own pleasure, almost embarrassingly so. Your head rolls back onto Adrian’s shoulder, and your over kissed lips part into a dazed smile. You meet Rick’s eyes as Adrian’s movements start to make your body jolt and shake. Your orgasm, rapidly approaching, evident to everyone. 

“C’mon baby,” Adrian encourages you, his fingers digging into your thigh, holding you open as he continues his onslaught, pleasure and pain now one in the same, white heat beginning to seep into the corners of your vision.

Until the dam breaks. Adrian holds you in place, only slowing down to give you slight mercy. Rick watches intensely, his eyes never leaving your face, even as your eyes roll back and your mouth opens in a silent scream, your body wracked with tremors as your orgasm hits you like a flooding storm. Adrian holds you tightly through it all, bringing you back to earth slowly. Your chest heaves, and your eyes meet Rick’s again. 

Sweet enough? You silently ask him, and he smiles, understanding fully. Adrian seems to understand too, as he pulls you up off his lap, hissing at the air hitting his cock, cold compared to the heat of your cunt.

You stand unsteadily, almost dizzy as you use your legs for the first time in over an hour. Rick reaches out for you, pulling you into his arms as you steady yourself, his warmth radiating over you.

“Wanna lay down?” he asks, as if he already knows what you want. Yes, yes of course you do, you nod your head and he leads you over to the little table, pushing all of the discarded deck onto the floor as he gently lays you down. Adrian gets up and joins Rick, standing on the opposite end of the table. You lay back, face to face with Adrian as your spine flattens out against the formica. He smiles at you sweetly, and you return it, before he winks. As if you read his mind, you open your mouth for him, and he leans down and spits between your lips. You smile up at him, eyes full of nothing but adoration. 

“You want my mouth?” you ask him, and he shakes his head no. Rick the voyeur switches places with him, rounding the table until he’s standing next to your head. 

“Stay still,” Rick warns you, his hands gently tilting your head back to lean off the edge of the table. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you obey.

“Don’t,” Rick pauses, grimaces, blushes red as a tomato, “Don’t say that.”

You immediately tilt your head back up, looking for Adrian with wild amusement painted on your features. 

“Did you hear that?” you giggle, snapping your fingers at Adrian from his spot between your legs. He laughs along with you, pointing at Rick, who rolls his eyes. 

“Colonel’s got a Daddy kink!” you laugh, only stopped when Rick pulls your back down, bringing your attention back on him to shut you up.

“You want a taste?” he asks, grasping his cock by the base, and stepping closer to your bruised lips.

You nod, eagerly. The tip of his cock touches your lips, and you gladly part them to let Rick push his cock between them. You push your tongue out to taste him, salty and hot against you, your tongue massaging him as you take him fully into your mouth. Fuck, he feels good in your mouth, just as good as you thought he would. He pushes slowly, whether hes testing the waters or afraid to hurt you, you arent sure. But you want more, no, need it even. He takes a few more shallow thrusts, slow and even and safe.

We can’t have that, now can we?

You grab his hips, thumbs dipping right against his v-line as you pull him closer to you, taking him as deep as you can. Rick gasps, then groans in surprise, his voice strained as he gets used to the sensation of his cock down your throat. 

Adrian, not one to be outdone, only watches the show for a moment before focusing his attention back to your cunt. Which, in his opinion, is only too clothed. 

Adrian pushes your skirt up around your waist, bunching the fabric up ungracefully. His fingers rake down the front of your underwear, wet and twisted and useless now that Adrian had already made a previous mess of them. Impatient to a fault, repositioning you to pull them off smoothly would take too long. 

Your focus is pulled from the heat of Rick’s cock by cool steel against your hip, and without pulling yourself off of Rick you hum, trying to get attention as you ask what the fuck is going on. Rick reaches down to rub his thumb along your chin in comfort.

“Adrian’s got a knife,” Rick explains, and as you feel the elastic of your underwear break, you relax once more. You had told Adrian one night in your cell that you wanted him to do that to you once he got his knives back. He’s a good listener.

 You swivel your tongue along Rick’s cock, the hot velvet soft skin and salty sweat. You hollow out your cheeks, pride blooming in your chest as the commanding officer groans like a much more desperate man.

Adrian’s cock once again presses against your entrance, a key into a lock, and he sinks into you slowly, a loud and blissful moan spilling from his lips. You can only imagine the smile on his face. The same smooth drag, the fullness of him returns to you, and you moan around Rick’s shaft. You feel the shiver up his spine from here. He likes that, you notice, and file it away in your mind to use against him. 

Adrian is not slow and gentle for long, though, quickly picking up speed now that he has the freedom to have you spead out below him like this. 

His hips slamming into you shakes the table, rocking your mouth farther onto Rick’s cock. You gag, sharply inhaling through your nose to try to keep control. You reach out to him, your fingers wrapping around his forearms to stabalize you, so that maybe next time Adrian decides to be rough it wont end with Rick bruising your vocal cords. Rick moves his hands, gripping the edge of the table to keep you in place. Adrian hammers into you, fucking you onto Rick, once again a tandem rhythm between the three of you.

“Jesus, Colonel, is that your dick?” you hear Adrian ask as he presses your thighs farther apart.

“Yep,” You hear Rick confirm, his hand coming off the edge of table to brush his fingertips across your neck, “Pretty little throat your girl’s got.”

“Don’t I know it?” Adrian asks, and that effectively ends their conversation again. You’re glad 

theyre starting to get along. You feel Adrian’s hands running up and down your thighs, massaging his thumbs into the muscles, but you can only be so pliant beneath him when tension builds and pools in your stomach, threatening to bring you over the edge again. 

You try to focus on one or the other. Try to focus on keeping your cheeks hollow and your tongue moving for Rick. Try to focus on not coming again on Adrian’s cock while he teases and manipulates your body. You feel like you're failing though, and falling all the same, your muscles feel weak against both of them, hard and strong, your body filled with white-hot heat like molten lava.

Adrian breaks your thoughts by yanking both of your legs together, your knees knocking together roughly. Heat turning supernova, you moan loud around Rick’s cock, and he himself moans in response. 

“That gonna get you to come for me again?” Adrian asks, laughter in his voice as he places both of your ankles on one shoulder, hugging your legs to his chest. The angle is… divine. Your eyes screw shut tightly, stars bursting behind your eyelids. He’s such a little shit.

You hum affirmatively again around Rick’s cock, and his hips stutter against your face, knocking into your chin.

“Fuck, Doll, you gotta stop doing that,” he sighs, but you can barely hear him. No, you’re focusing to holding onto your sanity. Everything feels so so so much, everything is Adrian and Rick, Adrian and Rick, and you melting between them. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. 

A strangled cry fights its way from your mouth, and a cord snaps within you. You shudder, and Adrian leans down to pin you down even further, slowing down this time to give you a little mercy. He is sweet. He works you through your orgasm slowly, gently pulling it from you, gently letting you back down to earth, gently letting the pleasure crash over you in waves. He thrusts slowly, dragging himself from you before every slow thrust in, taking you apart and putting you back together. You float back down into yourself slowly, held by both of them. Adrian pressed against you and Rick now running his fingers through your hair. 

Rick pulls out slowly, his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, and finally you can swallow properly, your sore jaw slack and tired. Adrian presses a kiss to the back of your knee, pulling out as well. You groan at the loss of him, at the heat leaving your body. Then again, at the feeling of goosebumps covering your skin. He lets your legs down gently, your heels coming to rest on the edge of the table as he holds you lazily. 

Rick leans down, eyes dark and lustful, handsome and fully focused on you. He is dangerous. 

“Can I have that honey pot, gorgeous?” Rick asks you, face close enough to kiss. You lean up, craning your neck to do just that. He tastes like rum and vanilla, sickeningly sweet. Your hand reaches up to pull him even closer, your nails raking through his soft hair. Rick’s hand quickly finds your chest, his thumb brushing over your nipple. What a tease, you think. 

He parts his lips from you slowly, eyes staying closed as if savoring the moment to commit to memory. 

“You can have whatever you want,” you whisper, and Rick seems to preen at that. He stands tall again and moves to take Adrian’s place. Adrian doesn't budge though. 

“You gonna…?” Rick trails off, holding out his hand to gesture Adrian to the side. Adrian still doesn't budge, his feet planted to the floor. You roll your eyes, bored of the competition. Men. 

“I think I’m good here,” Adrian shrugs, his fingers idly running up and down the side of your leg.

“Don’t act like she’s not the one that holds your leash, Vig,” Rick shoots back, pointing out a truth, “Everyone sees how you protect her. She's a big girl.”

Adrian visibly deflates, his shoulders drooping. If you didn’t know better, you would think Rick’s gaze is softening in guilt. But you do know better. 

“Don’t worry, babe, you’re the only one that gets to come inside,” you stage whisper to him, looking at Rick the whole time. He gets it and nods instantly in reassurance.

“Better be,” Adrian pouts, “And maybe he should only get you from behind.”

It’s a little petty on Adrian’s part, but you have a bond. The Colonel is an interloper at the end of the night, and Adrian’s comfort is important. 

“I can work with that,” Rick pipes up, slapping a reassuring hand on the younger man’s shoulder, which surprisingly is not shrugged off. Adrian even looks a little surprised at the turn of events, as if he’s used to others making him put up more of a fight to get what he wants.

You turn yourself over, ignoring the ache in your core, dropping onto your feet off the edge of the table to bend over. The cool air hits you, and finally you realize just how wet you are. Fuck. 

Adrian is reluctant as he moves in front of you, but he seems thankful of the shitty table, and the ability to kiss you before he grabs your head to lower it on his shaft. He kisses you softly, holding both sides of your face in his big hands. You press your lips to his eagerly, a salve to whatever hurt his ego feels in this whole situation. You know you’ll hear an earful when you go to sleep next to him later, but you don’t mind. Not when he looks like that.

You’re broken from your thoughts by the feeling of another pair of rough hands; this time finding purchase on your hips. Adrian breaks the kiss somewhat reluctantly, licking the seam of your lips before he pulls away. 

You smile up at him again, and he grabs his shaft, pumping from the base to the tip twice. Like a fucking pornstar. 

“Open up?” he asks, and you oblige, dramatically parting your lips and sticking your tongue out for show. His nose scrunches, his glasses fogging slightly as he laughs through his nose, and he inches closer to you, teasing you with the tip just out of reach. You pout, and then smile as he gives in, resting the fat head of his cock against your tongue.

Rick’s cock brushes against your entrance, only for a moment, and then he pushes his entire length into you with one thrust, filling you entirely. 

You moan, loud and wanton, pushed further onto Adrian’s shaft as well. Both of them fill you, completely.

Rick lingers, savoring the feeling of being fully inside you, holding your hips and your bodies flush together. He pulls himself out again slowly, almost completely, dragging against you, friction that makes you whine, open mouthed and loud around Adrian’s shaft, and his grip on your head only becomes tighter. Rick takes the opportunity to land a hard smack against your ass, hard enough to bruise. Hard enough to make his mark on you the way that Adrian has, hard enough to lay claim to you.

He then begins thrusting in earnest; long, savoring strokes you're sure he will remember later, fucking his fist in the shower. 

The edge of the table digs into the flesh of your thighs, you can imagine the indents they'll leave, a sweet reminder as you're sure it'll be sore to walk tomorrow. He presses into you deep, each thrust harder than the last, each thrust earning him a moan.

You push back against him, arching your back into each of his movements. Adrian moves differently, barely thrusting his hips, small movements while he keeps himself deep in your mouth, his tip kissing the back of your throat with every little push of his hips. 

The room fills with moans, all three of you together harmoniously, hitting your stride. 

“Fucking amazing,” Rick sighs, beginning to speed up his thrusts, his hip bones bumping against your ass.

“Right?” Adrian agrees, his thumb swiping against your cheek. Wet, like the rest of you.

“You’re a lucky man, Vigilante.”

And without warning Rick changes his angle, hips now connecting with the bottom of your ass, and you nearly scream. This new angle… this is… excruciating pleasure. 

He reaches a part of you that your hadn't already known, the tip of his cock brushing against a spot that makes your vision blur. He hits it over and over, your eyes rolling back into your head as your orgasm rushes almost embarrassingly.

You feel yourself tightening around him, feel all of your muscles seizing. You try as hard as you can to keep your jaw where it is for Adrian despite the fact that Rick has the rest of your body curling in on itself.

He speeds up, continuing to hit that spot, hit that place in you. Your toes curl, and you lose your composure quickly, now moaning every time he fills you to the hilt. 

You moan on Adrian’s cock, your throat vibrating around his cock, and at some point he just stops thrusting, enjoying the feeling of you on him in your current state too much.

Rick keeps thrusting, your back arching to the point where your body almost comes off the table, your hips rising almost uncomfortably to meet the angle he has set to make you come beneath him, and expertly so. You're barrelling towards that high, bracing yourself to let yourself go, to go limp around Rick Flag, to show him…

“Fuck,” Rick curses, pulling out harshly. He taps the tip of his cock against your ass a few times, and then sighs deeply.

“You are something else,” he laughs, his free hand running down your hip. Adrian takes this as his cue, and pulls himself out of your mouth too. Unlike with Rick, you whine at the loss of Adrian. You look up at him through your lashes, his smile cocky and excited. 

“You wanna finish the job?” you ask your protector, and he nods eagerly, the smile never slipping.

You turn your attention back to the older man. 

“It’s okay, Colonel,” you coo, your voice once again sweet with that venom, taunting, “You can have my mouth again.”

Rick isn’t going to think twice about it, and he switches places with Adrian to stand in front of you again, gathering your hair in his fist. You lock eyes with him as your tongue darts out of your mouth, a gentle lick to the head of his cock. He shudders, clearly ready. Well, you’re not one to waste time. You pull him in closer by the hips, taking his length back into your mouth. 

He groans appreciatively when the back of your throat meets the tip of his cock again, kissing it. Quick, shallow thrusts this time, less about exploring you and more about an eagerness to meet his end, and to watch you meet your end once again. He holds your head still, fucking your mouth, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have cards to deal as well. 

You swivel your tongue along the vein on the underside of his shaft, mapping it like hills and valleys. 

He’s quick, head thrown back in pleasure and chest heaving. Adrian is not one to be outdone though, and enters you equally as quickly, no show or frills or gentleness this time. He enters you as a means to an end as well.

Both men thrust into you hungrily, chasing a high only given by you. Adrian reaches down, bending his body over you until his fingers reach your clit again, moving with a pace and desperation to make you scream around Rick’s cock. His arm will probably be as bruised as your thighs will be tomorrow morning, but it’s clear he doesn’t care, hammering into you again. 

The tension you felt under Rick comes back almost immediately, your body tensing and curling for Adrian now as he puts himself deep inside you. Rick has to almost work against Adrian, his own thrusts having to fit in the waves and crashes of Adrian’s hips.

Adrian works you over, your body constricting and tensing under Adrian’s generous moans, watches you as you start to lose it.

“That's it babe, show the Colonel how good you are,” Adrian encourages, the pressure of his finger on your clit now almost violent, knowing how ready you are.

“Let go,” Adrian urges, his voice so low and wanting. Instead of you, its Rick that lets go, filling your throat with his release, salty and hot, but easy to swallow. He tastes good, not too much not too little. You swallow him down eagerly, making eye contact the entire time, and you're almost sure he sheds a tear. 

It's seconds later that Adrian makes you come again. 

You shudder, hard and unsexy under him, and entire loss of control, but you hide none of it from Rick. He knows you, or at least he should. Adrian comes shortly after, his release with a groan, and the two of you sink to the floor as a unit, connected, held together. Adrian keeps you close.

Your head shoots up from Rick’s shoulder as if you’ve been burned, your eyes wide as you turn your face towards the pile of his clothes. The Colonel unravels himself from you and the Vigilante, a pile of limbs doused in sweat and spit and salt. His phone vibrates; the case clattering against his belt buckle, the screen a bright intrusion to the dim lights, reflecting off of the rum bottles like christmas lights. Rick stumbles towards it, pulled by duty. Adrian pulls at you by the handful, fully enveloping you in his embrace. One so new and yet already so comforting. You picked right when you set your sights on him. 

Rick bends down to pick up his phone, showing you a great view of that ass of his. You rake your fingernails over Adrian’s bicep, tracing the scar tissue lines across soft freckled skin while you watch what the other man does. 

Rick’s screen illuminates a grimace on his face. Your brows furrow in confusion, and then realization.

“Waller?” you ask, voice partially muffled by how Adrian has himself wrapped around you.

��Yup,” Rick confirms, knowing he’s probably a dead man. 

You and Adrian burst into laughter.

He’s so fucking dead. 

Rick slips on his underwear and leaves the room to take the call. 

[enchantedlov3r]

My heart is saying let's go! John B Routledge and JJ Maybank

🎶I'm a genie in a bottle, you gotta rub me the right way! If you wanna be with me, baby there's a price to pay🎶

Summary: There has been tension between you and the two boys but no one's ever acted on them, plus there the boys! They gotta rub you the right way...

Pairing: John B x Fem!hispanic!Pogue!reader x JJ Maybank

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: pet names, oral (f), flirting, angst, arguing, jealous kiara, angry reader, mention of death, smut, cliffhanger, kiara being a party pooper (i have nothing against her this was just a random idea), pinning and yearning, many emotions, overall good vibes, FLUFF LIKE TOOTH ROTTING, ENJOY!

A/N: I looooooovvvve me some of that John D and Papa J (divider creds to @cafekitsune

you were walking down the street from your house. you had just recently gotten into an argument with your dad and you really didn't feel like dealing with that right now.

you were walking down the street towards the chateau where you practically lived whenever you and your dad fought.

It was the only safe place you could go to, besides your childhood best friends were over there!

john b and jj maybank, the two boys who grew up to be the hottest men around. you had the biggest crush on them both and they noticed ever since you guys started 9th grade together.

since then you've flirted with each other, tested each others limits to see who would snap first, you even kissed them both at a stupid spin the bottle game.

though kiara has always been a little jealous considering she kissed jj and john b at the same party. And granted they never said they were dating because no pogue on pogue macking but hey, you and them? broke that rule long time ago.

you finally arrived and ran your hand along the Twinkie. you looked inside wondering if anyone was inside but nope, nobody. you went up to the door and knocked. you pace around the front porch before knocking again.

after about a minute you hear someone say, "hold your horses man, i'm comin." You instantly knew it was jj's voice, how could it not be.

when he opens the door he's got this boyish grin on his face as his eyes rake up and down your body. "hi jj, how's my surfer boy?" you greet with a warm smile on your face and open arms.

he gladly accepts your warm embrace along with the feeling of your warm skin on his as you were just in a bikini with these cute little short shorts on.

"i'm doing a lot better now cupcake," he says biting his bottom lip as he checks you out. "gimme a lil' twirl huh cupcake?" he asks smirking. he grabs your hand holding it up as you twirl around with giggles escaping your mouth.

"hey jayj, my eye's are up here." you say snapping your fingers in his face. you roll your eyes when he pouts and push past him to get inside.

"johnny boy, where are you bubba? I missed you," you call out hoping that john b is in here somewhere. suddenly you hear footsteps behind you and as you turn around you squeal out of fear and excitement.

john b has you wrapped up in his arms as he spins you around. john b was always your favorite but at the end of the day, you liked them both and your love for them evens out to the point where there both your favorites.

"there you are, been thinking about you all day baby." he says as he puts you down with his head snugged into your neck and his arms wrapped around your waist.

"Oh really, well then I guess my appearance was good in your favor." you say giggling. You see jj behind him staring at your exposed legs and his bottom lip between his teeth.

"ugh, hey, john b c'mere. Take a look at our girl." he says as he makes eye contact with you. john b let's you go and his eyes rake over your body as he walks to stand next to jj.

"what? do you want a twirl too?" you asks with your hands on your hips. They both smile and look at each other. "no, no. y-you look nice" john b says.

"I mean yea but without the clothes would be reeeaaal nice." jj says.

"JJ MAYBANK! How dare- ugh how could- ugh never mind." you stutter, face flushed. they've never been this forward with you but I guess since you guys kissed, there getting bolder and bolder.

"aww is our girl getting all shy now?" jj said making a fake pouty face with only mockery behind it, no sympathy at all.

you flip them both off before muttering some slight curses in spanish.

"Ustedes, hijos de puta, pueden ser verdaderos idiotas." you say while walking outside. (Translation: you motherfuckers can be real idiots.)

they hate when you curse at them in spanish, only knowing a few words because you use them a lot. "Hey! I know what puta and idiotas means you jerk!" jj yells at you.

you giggle and stick your tongue out at them both. john b is standing there in pure shock like 'what did i do' and jj is just angry. you make your way to pope, sarah and kiara.

"hey guys! what's up?" you asks excited to see sarah and pope. you and kiara aren't exactly on the best terms right now. she was your number one and now she's been replaced with sarah all because of a boy.

it was stupid really but whatever, if your guy's friendship was put in jeopardy over a boy and jj at that, then you guys were never really best friends to begin with.

sarah rushes over to you instantly embracing you in a warm hug pope following and doing the same. You opened your eyes and watched as kiara sat there and gave you a small smile. You simply smiled back before drawing your attention back to sarah and pope.

"hey girl! what's wrong? you look like you've been crying." typical sarah. Such an observer. "Yea i'm fine, just got into another argument with my dad, noting too serious." you say with a weak smile.

She tuts and shakes her head, "I told you just come and live with me for a month at most." she says.

"Yea and risk my father tearing up tannyhill, and risk putting you in danger? yea no chance. Eres demasiado importante para mi" you say to her. (Translation: you are too important to me)

She smiles understanding the words that came out of your mouth as you say them to her and everyone else everyday. You nod at her and walk over to pope.

"Hey. pope pope! Hows papi Heyward doing?" you say laughing as soon as you see pope's face.

"One that nickname is dead. Two, never call my dad papi again. And three, he's alright thanks for asking." he says rolling his eyes with a smile on his face.

"Noted on number one. Never on number two, he's papi forever, and three, that's good, glad he's ok!" You say making sarah laugh.

You see the boys coming outside with beer cans in their hands and they're walking towards the boat. sarah managed to highjack one of her dad's famous boats and now you all have it.

Today was a day where you all go out on the boat, listen to music and swim around and get slightly drunk. That was a weekend for the pogues. And even though it is stupid considering you guys have school in two days, who cares!? your living life like stupid teenagers should.

your making your way towards the boat with john b and sarah when you see kiara rush up to jj. there both talking and jj looks your way but, you quickly look next to them to make it look like your looking at pope.

waving your hand over to invite pope to the conversation sarah was having with you and john b. you three get on the boat and you turn to grab some cans from john b so you can put them in the cooler.

Once everyone is on it's smooth sailing from here until of course kiara has something to say. This has been going on for many weekends now when you all want to have fun, kiara some how ruins it with her jealousy.

"why are you doing it anyway?" she asks. you were scrolling on your phone while jamming to the music in the background and laying your head in jj's lap while he was talking to john b when she said it.

sarah looked at her confused like 'what is she talking about' and then noticed she was talking to you. sarah then tapped you to get your attention.

"¿qué pasa sarah?" you asks her. She nods her head to kiara and kiara rolls her eyes.

"yo kie, is there a problem?"jj asks, it seems her question got everyones attention now. pope looks confused and so does john b.

"I wanna know why you do it. why you lead them on? why you flirt with them sooo much!" she says glaring at you.

"kiara are you serious right now? we're all just trying enjoy ourselves and you feel the need to have this conversation now?" you say trying to keep your composure.

you have your dads temper and when you got angry it wasn't exactly the best. your whole mood would be ruined the rest of the day and you didn't need that.

"i'm talking to you about it right? so obviously i wanna have the conversation now." she says with an atitutude in her tone and you snap.

"look kiara. i'm done with your bullshit ok? whatever the hell you need to get off your chest just fucking say it." you say rising your voice slightly.

she scoffs and then begins her rant, "i'm tired of seeing you flirt with them. it's so annoying and you know how I feel about it. and john b, jj? what happened to no pogue on pogue macking huh? it seems that rule just went out the window!" she yells back.

"Ok hermana, lemme stop you there. no pogue on pogue macking? that rule ended when you kissed them first at that stupid party kiara. then you just ditched them both completely like nothing happened and they did the same thing. When you had your stupid kook phase where you just up and left and fucking forgot all of us, that was cold." you yell.

"So yea maybe i did take the opportunity to try and explore my newfound feelings for the two boys I LITERALLY GREW UP WITH!? you love making this situation seem all about you and your fucking feelings kiara but that's bullshit. i had them first, there my boys! who were with me through everything! When my mom died, were you there? no! wanna know why? because you were too busy acting like a fucking stuck up, prissy kook to even notice!" you yell at her finally getting what you needed to get off your chest.

"No offense sarah..." you add quietly. she shakes her head as a 'none taken' gesture before looking back over to kiara.

"oh ¿por qué haces las cosas que haces? Oh, no lo sé, ¿probablemente porque puedo?" you say mocking her out of anger.

Translation: (oh why do you do the things you do? oh i don't know probably cause i can?!)

She sits there silently. "I bet 20 bucks you didn't even know my mother was dead." you say coldly before turning around to go sit at the bottom part of the boat.

20 minutes later john b and jj come down to comfort you.

"Hey bubs. you ok?" john b asks walking up to your laying figure and lays in front of you. jj gets on the bed behind you and grips your stomach while john b grips your waist.

your still in your shorts and bathing suit. jj's hands are warm on your bare stomach and john b's hands are toying with the back pocket of your shorts.

"really sorry about her. she just, she-" jj is cut off by you.

"she needs to chill the hell out. She needs to stop acting like i'm some girl that's obsessed with you guys when she's clearly the obsessed one!" you say cuddling into jonh b's chest a little more.

jj scoots closer to you, his crotch on your ass, you wiggle against him supposedly "trying to get comfortable" knowing damn well your just teasing.

john b notices what your doing and pulls your hips flush with his. "I'd stop moving if I were you sweetheart." john b says.

"yea, wouldn't want anything naughty to happen right?" jj whispers in your ear.

" 'm sorry, just wanna shut my brain off for a second. i'm so angry, can you help me?" you ask the both of them twisting onto your back to stare at both of them.

They both give each other this look before looking back at you and giving in. "ok cupcake what do ya want us to do?" jj asks, you look at him and smile tiredly.

"I want you to finger me, eat me out, you choose." you say pulling down your shorts and your bikini bottoms to reveal your already wet pussy.

"Damn bubs, that was kinda our job but hey i'll get to work." john b says kissing all down your body from your lips to your neck, down to your breasts until he reaches your thighs.

He parts your legs with his big, warm hands rubbing your thighs in just the right way to make you twitch. You grab onto his hair when his kisses start leading to your now soaking cunt.

"Are you a virgin cupcake? what? you saved your pretty pussy for us? how cute." jj says right next to you. He's kissing and sucking, leaving marks on your neck as he plays with your nipples to stimulate you.

you whine and nod your head lazily at how good it feels. jj chuckles beside you as he whispers dirty things in your ear to get you off.

John b's tongue is now on you eliciting a moan straight out of you. Your hands running through his curls. Your hips moving on their own to chase your orgasm that's building up (he was that good).

Your crying now, the feeling of john b's tongue and jj's fingers were a feeling of bliss and ecstasy. You wanted nothing more than to cream and cum all over john b's face.

jj's hands reach your clit at the perfect time, you clearly must have mumbled something about cumming but you were too drunk off the both of them to even notice.

your mush now, the feeling of your orgasm washing over you and hitting you like a wave. your slowly sinking in to a lulling slumber as your fingers get tired of gripping john b's hair.

You whine out one last time before your out like a light. 'damn they really rubbed you the right way.' you thought once more before your asleep.

Taglist: (?)

[tmblrcolouredpaper]

Clothes with TXT

OT5 TXT; 5 scenarios member/ reader wc: 1178

🧸 Yeonjun

he'd get matching underwear with you.

In general he'd be a sucker for clever matching outfits, but nothing would beat wearing the same design of underwear during a night in together with you. 

lounging around only in briefs, he'd melt seeing you appearing with the same minimal amount of fabric on your body.

when lying down with you, are close, thin fabric on thin fabric and the rest of touch being directly skin on skin, he wouldn't be able to avoid glancing down, seeing his sensitive parts matching yours with such conscious intention.

it's not just matching colors or minimalistic designs, he'd feel so much giddy joy seeing some cute designs facing each other, maybe beige underwear with cute little bears on them or silly ducks. 

his favorite would logically be pandas. 

when you're outside, wearing completely different genres of clothes, secretly only underwear matching, he'd feel so proud, smirking at the privat coordination of life, the intimate moment of getting ready together precious to him.

and when it's not a mutual decision, but a coincidence that he discovers when you find your way back to another at night, stripping down to take a shower, he'd throw himself at you with the happiest hug. He just loves finding familiarity in you. 

shopping trips include getting matching underwear. To people's entertainment, you'd probably stand there arguing while holding up random pairs of panties. It doesn't matter what section you're in, men's clothes, women's clothes, who cares. You just want to find the cutest little piece of fabric to add to your collection. 

🧸 Soobin 

he's such a winter inspiration to me, so I think of scarfs, gloves, and any warm fuzzy clothes. 

he'd wrap you up, put a huge scarf around your neck, carefully put gloves on your painfully freezing hands after he tries warming them with his breath. 

at home, he'd have a large collection of fuzzy socks for you, cute designs and pinterest-y overknee pairs. 

he'd put them on you, pulling them up slowly and once having your feet warm, he'd pull your legs into his lap caressing the soft fabric in such a manner that you could just fall asleep like that. 

especially during stormy winter nights, he'd have you in only a shirt, underwear and overknee socks in his bed beside him. With one arm he'd hold you close and with his free hand, he'd have his palm run up and down your dressed leg to warm and calm you. 

when he's in a playful mood, he'd tuck on the hem of your socks, pulling them up and down, tickling you oh so lightly until you get a bit annoyed at him, because it also means you'd be shifting more of your attention to him. 

🧸 Beomgyu 

matching accessories. Only both of you already wearing a cap when going out together, he'd find it so cool. 

For fancy dinner dates, he'd enjoy matching belts or both of you wearing a tie. 

It doesn't have to be cute or a huge sign of connection, he'd just enjoy feeling good in his clothes and having you match his energy. It gives him an ego boost, assures him of himself and his taste, that he is someone who can be seen as orientation and some sort of role model. 

Having you maybe exploring your style with his in mind, would make him grow more curious of his own possibilities, too. 

It's just fun for him. 

In a more domestic realm, he'd love seeing you wearing matching slippers. You'd just buy a 2 for 1 set. It's practical and lets him feel like he's truly living life together with you. 

On more serious occasions he'd aim for jewelry, bracelets or necklaces with matching charms, little engravings, such as each one half of a sentence. 

On dates he'd love handcrafting colorful pieces with you, bold pearls and cotton candy coloured strings braided into memories of carefree moments with you. They're his lucky charms and he feels even luckier when he sees you wearing them with the same enthusiasm. 

🧸 Taehyun 

simple, yet impactful having-you-wear-his-shirt-type-of-guy 

whether it's at home or outside, he loves seeing how you make his clothes look like. 

he lets you pick shirts for him, having in mind that you would wear them, too.

sometimes you like to mess with him, suggesting shirts you know he wouldn’t like, silly ones, immensely cute ones or extravagant shirts with attached bows. He’d sigh, shake his head, but go back to the store by himself from time to time to get the shirt, having you find it in his closet. 

he’d go full out when you ask him to give you a private fashion show, throwing all his silly poses into the room, gifting the pieces of fabric a whiff of his energy that makes you giggle whenever you wear the shirts. 

when it’s about his personal favorite shirts he’s be a bit reluctant at first, but when he sees you treating them with such care, not eating in them to keep them stain free, wearing them truly when you need to be just a bit closer to him, making the feeling of having company in life more present, he’d gently help you get dressed in his clothes.

he’d have his hands linger on you, smoothing out the fabric on your body, automatically caressing in a calming manner. 

all of it is just something that would happen alongside daily happenings. It’s nothing deeply thought through, but casual joyful endearments between you.  

🧸 Kai 

would throw his hoodie at you. 

his main intention not being that it's cute, but that it's simply practical. 

Why would you buy hoodies and such, when he could open his own store with the amount of pieces he has? 

however, once you start returning them to him, one by one, with your scent on them, he'd start melting, adoring the routine he carelessly introduced. 

giggly, kicking his feet, falling asleep in them, wearing them in situations that stress him out, make him feel anxious, he'd start relying on shared clothes. 

some hoodies become destined to be your clothes of sadness, catching his and your silent tears. Whenever he finds a wettened hoodie you were currently wearing discarded on your bed, he'd search for you to hold you. 

when he silently drowns his sadness in the mixture of his hoodie and your scent, you'd know when he throws it into the washing machine. 

hoodies become a way of communicating hard feelings with another.

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[imbored1201]

Slumber Party & Prankss

Master list

Summary:  You and the ladies were finally having a slumber party to get away from the men but little did you know, Sam and Bucky were up to something

Word Count: 929

Pairing: Wandanat x reader

Warnings: Spiders, Bucky and Sam pranking reader, Wanda kicking their ass for it, Talks of drinking

“Okay ladies, I have the popcorn, the drinks, the candy, am I missing something” Pepper asked as she set down everything on the table of the living room. “The real drinks Pepper, we need alcohol” Valkyrie said as she sat down on the floor. “No, no drinking tonight ladies, you guys do that every day when you reunite” Wanda and Nat looked at you and Carol, Valkyrie always dragged you two into drinking on the rooftop. 

“What movie are we watching, anyway?” Carol asked as she scrolled through the movie options, “I wanted to do a Harry Potter marathon” Pepper answered making everyone protest. “Oh come on guys, we only watched the 1st and 2nd one last time, you can’t just watch the first two and stop” “Yes you can” Nat said smiling as Pepper kept arguing. Little did you guys know. Sam and Bucky were planning something. 

“Who are we going to prank though?” Sam asked, making Bucky shrug. They were sitting in Sam’s room playing video games, Bucky of course still confused on the controls. “Can’t prank Pepper because Tony will cut our budget, Carol will destroy this whole tower if we do something, Valkyrie literally has no fears and isn’t scared to kill us, Nat and Wanda are too scary. Y/N?” Sam looked a little scared, “Wanda and Nat will kill us if we did that, unless we get her away and bribe her not to tell them after,” Bucky nodded, “What is she scared of?” Sam smirked, “Spiders, fucking terrified of them, should have seen her when Peter brought his tarantulas this morning,” “Is Pete still here?” Sam nodded, “He’s in the lab with Tony,” Bucky stood up and started walking to the lab. “Let’s do some negotiating,” 

Bucky and Sam were able to bribe Pete into giving them his tarantulas and were deciding on where to set it up. After some arguing they decided to do the prank in Sam’s room. They put them in Sam’s bathroom and Bucky grabbed them out of their container and set them down. They decided they were going to go down there and ask you to come check out some of Sam’s outfit ideas for a “date” he had. 

Once they stepped foot in the living room they were quickly met by protest from all of you. “Did you not see the no boys allowed sign outside” Carol said as she threw popcorn at them. They held their hands up, “We just need Y/N” Sam explained, making you raise your eyebrow. “Why?” you asked as they expected you would. “I have a date tomorrow, and I need your advice on some outfits, you know how bad Bucky’s fashion is” all the girls let out a ‘ooo’ sound at Sam’s statement. “Okay Sammy, let's go then” you jumped up and skipped out of the living room. 

“Who’s the lucky person?” you asked, “oh, someone I met at the park, um, Y/N” he asked, getting nervous about pulling this off. “Yeah, Sammy?” you asked. “Can you get my tie from the bathroom?” you shrugged and did it. Bucky walked close behind ready to close the door, “Where is i- HOLY SHIT. SAM THERE'RE SPIDERS” You yelled ready to run out but Bucky closed the door before you could and held it closed. “BUCKY. NO” you yelled crying as you banged on the door. You quickly jumped on the sink and stared down at the spider’s that were just crawling around minding their own business. After a couple of minutes they finally decided it was enough and opened the door. 

“Wanda! Nat!” you yelled and ran past them once they opened the door, “Wait Y/N” Sam yelled as Bucky zoomed to you and grabbed you and shut your mouth before you could get to the elevator. “Y/N, stop” Bucky whispered in your ear and felt bad as you cried more. “Calm down” he comforted but little did they know, you were telepathically communicating to Wanda. 

It wasn’t long until you guys heard the elevator beep and then came out an angry Wanda and Nat who looked at the scene of Bucky holding you down with a hand over your mouth and Sam trying to bribe you with money and tickets to see Taylor Swift. “What do you think you're doing?” Nat demanded as Bucky and Sam quickly got up looking terrified. You started laughing at their faces and took the tickets and money from Sam. “Wanda! Nat! Look, tickets for Taylor’s concert” you giggled as you ran over to them. You were supposed to buy some but the day they went out you guys got put on a 2 week mission so by the time you got back they were all gone. Wanda pulled you into a hug and wiped your tear-stained cheeks, smiling a bit at your happiness. 

“Why don’t you go back to the sleepover hun, Pepper is putting on Harry Potter” you cheered and ran off again completely forgetting about the trauma you just got put through. 

“I’ll give you a five second head start” Nat smirked as she saw Wanda’s eyes were glowing, she was going to let Wanda handle this one. She stepped back and watched as Wanda flew through the hallways and laughed as she heard the boys scream of terror. 

This was probably one of the most unforgettable slumber party you've had, but at least you got Taylor Swift tickets and Wanda and Nat knew they were going to be dragged along and you were going to spend all their money on more merch. 

[1-800-local-slut]

Decisions

Rio x Black! Fem! Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, sad ending, lies and deceit, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, broken family, break ups, arguing, reader has a bad mom, mention of smut, kinda creepy Rio, abusive childhood, suicidal thoughts, recreational drug use, mentions of sex but no smut, Rio calls Beth annoying but make no mistake I love me some Beth, slight canon divergence, not proof read we die like men 💪🏾

Rio get’s close to the reader, due to him having an issue with her mother. He falls for her and they start dating but 8 months into their relationship she finds out the first six months of their relationship was a lie. She realizes she can’t trust him and dumps him.

PSA: The reader has an abusive mother and no father, there's only one mention of the reader getting punched in the face. If that's something that would trigger you then please don't read for your own sake

Please let me know if you guys enjoy!

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When he saw her for the first time, it was dark out. She was standing under the streetlight, waiting for her bus and Rio was standing in the bushes behind her. The light above made her luminescent, giving her dark skin and gorgeous glow. He didn't even know why it shocked him to see her there. He had been waiting for her after all.

It was a chilly April night, she was shivering. Rubbing her hands together and exhaling a puff of cold air. He even remembered thinking that it was weird how cold it was for April. She held her phone in her hand, her headphones lightly bled music. Rio could've stared at her all day, if only he wasn't here on business.

He needed to put some pressure on someone and this was how it needed to be done. Stepping out of the bush, Rio slid close to the target of the evening.

His eyes scanned her up and down, looking for some sort of entry point. She didn't notice him, he wasn't standing too close to her yet. With a final scan, he noticed the Jordan high tops that hugged her feet. Perfect.

Taking another step, a bigger step, he made sure his presence was known. Her eyes glanced up at him, a natural response. She carefully observed him, like she was deciding if she should take a large step away or just ignore him. The leaking music shut off and Rio fought back a smile. Best not to freak her out. It was time to finally put things into motion.

"Those shoes are nice, I was looking for a pair for my cousins quince gift but I couldn't find any in her size." Of course there was no way to start a conversation with a woman this late at night in t he middle of nowhere waiting for a bus without sounding like a creep but Rio was pressed for time.

She raised an eyebrow, and glance him up and down before she glanced at the time. Checking how much time before the bus came, smart.

"Thanks. I picked them up last week." Curt and to the point. Rio admired how quickly she went on the defense.

"They suit you. The color I mean. If you don't mind can I ask where you brought those? I just moved here, and I don't know where anything is." Her plump lips pushed into a straight line as if she was contemplating.

Mentally, he willed her to just go for it. Just take the bait, so the guy he had in the bushes who was about to take a few pictures for evidence could get something.

"Yeah, you just have to head to the store on 83rd. There's a place called Sole Symphony. You can get a good deal if you talk to the right person.

"Oh I passed that place on my drive in. I'm Rio, by the way." Extending his palm, Rio heard the bus pulling up behind them. Sure, he knew her name already. But what if he wanted to know more than just her name?

As she placed her hand in his and said her name, the doors of the bus slid open behind the two.

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"Baby what do you want to eat?" She was leaning on the arm of the couch, while Rio rested his head on her lap. Clad in one of Rio's black t-shirts, and a pair of his boxers that outlined that ass he worshipped. Under the lights of her living room, she still looked radiant.

"What, you can't cook?" Rio teased, only to be playfully swatted on his head.

"Stop being annoying, I'm ordering dinner because someone's stupid self forgot to go to the grocery store."

"I forgot to go because you wanted to play around all day, so had to I come home and handle business." Rio smiled, a true smile. A smile he hadn't had in a really really long time. She giggled and bent her face closer to his, and hummed. She rubbed her thumb over his forehead, in a way that made Rio shudder.

"I only did that because you finished all my weed and then got me the wrong strain. So maybe that's your fault?" Rio rolled his eyes playfully, and accepted the soft kiss she planted on his lips.

It filled him with a warm, thick feeling. If someone made love into soup, it was filling his stomach at this very moment. Giving him a full, heavy feeling that Rio never wanted to lose. After a second they pulled apart and Rio stared deeply into her eyes. She did the same, like she could see Rio baring his soul to her.

Every now and again though, he remembered though that this was merely temporary. He never, and he cannot stress how much he means never, let himself fall for someone he was using for business. Still, some rules were meant to be broken.

Whenever he remembered that fact, when he remembered that once his debt was settled with her mother (the whole reason he approached her at that bus station in the first place), his heart died a bit.

The past four months had been nothing but a mix of stress and bliss. Stress, the stress of accidentally hurting the person who broke into his heart. Bliss, from laying with her just like this. Every night, or going to dinner with her. How six months could change a man so much was beyond him. Just being with her, even if it was technically for leverage. Though he would never hurt her.

Still, if she knew, it would hurt her more than anything. It would be like a knife, piercing her heart before twisting and causing her to bleed out unstoppably.

Realistically, speaking anyone would be. If you knew your drug addict mother got herself in too deep and your boyfriend was only with you for leverage against her, you'd be pretty cut up about it, wouldn't you?

The drug addict mother, who started exhibiting psychotic jealousy at what seemed like the moment you turned 12 , and who punched you in the mouth after you refused to be nice to her new boyfriend, who you fought so hard to get away from after your nightmare of a childhood? Who told you everyday that not only were you not shit but you'd never be shit? The mother you don't even tell people you have, like the father you never met?

How would you feel to find out that after fighting your entire life just to live a life that wasn't filled with filth, bearing your entire being to someone (the only one who knew the truth), that finally when you found happiness none of it was real? All because of the mother who you don't even acknowledge, after fighting tooth and nail to get as far as you could from, was still giving you grief.

It killed Rio to know all of this too. To see the scars that she trusted him enough to explain. To explain why she's afraid to have children of her own, to understand what made her into the beautiful, strong and confident woman she turned into too. How could Rio hurt someone who accepted him so wholly?

It made him sick to think about. Honestly, he felt like a toxic rapper who does his woman wrong and everyone but her seems to know. He felt like the definition of shit.

"...be?"

"Huh?"

"Is thai food alright with you, babe?"

"Yeah. Yeah sorry I just dosed off for a moment." Just like that, her voice was like a light shinning through the dark. Her face reflected concern, and she ran a manicured nail over his cheek. On instinct he clasped her hand in his.

"What's wrong with you?" Her voice an even whisper. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her literally everything, and he meant everything. Everything about himself, not the partly fabricated tale he told her about his life for the sake of keeping her at an arms length.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Rio gave a small chuckle.

"Nah just thinking about you mamas." Rio smirked up at her and saw her playful eye roll.

"Boy, if you don't do something with yourself." She laughed with a the smile he'd fallen in love with, pinching him on his chest and he winced before letting out a laugh. Rio grabbed his pants from the side of the couch where he hastily threw them when he came home to 'handle business'. Pulling out his wallet, he plucked his credit card out of the folds. He chuckled and handed it to her, where it was gracefully accepted. Within seconds, Rio felt like he could feel the money being pulled from his heart and his card.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, you keep an ear out for the food." She announced, slipping out from underneath him and leaving his head to connect with the couch.

"Without me though?" He watched her walk out of the living room and to her bathroom, sliding the boxers off in the process. If anything she was relentless in her desire to tease him.

"Don't be gross." She chastised, tossing her shirt off behind her and Rio admired her perfect body before she was out of sight and the door behind her closed.

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"Flowers?" Beth raised an eyebrow at the large bundle in the back of his car. Rio glanced back, the flowers and immediate reminder of what was waiting for him right after this. He couldn't even fight the grin. This girl had him feeling butterflies, kicking his feet and giggling when she wasn't even there and it was only eight months.

"For my lady." It was Fall now. The changing leaves reminded Rio of his changing heart, his changing mind. How he changed so much in the last eight months in so many ways that he couldn't even describe.

Coming up on their eight month anniversary and Rio wasn't even close to playing when it came to celebrating. That big ass bouquet was just the first part. He had a pair of matching necklaces for the two of them, a set of twin cuban links with a nice romantic saying, 'Semper Fidelis' (Always Faithful) carved into them.

Especially since his relationship with Beth had been a recent source of anger between the two. In all fairness, Rio told her he was involved in the stock market, which technically wasn't a lie. She knew he did something illegal though and didn't seem to care as long as neither of them got arrested.

What he didn't explain was what a big tittied white woman was doing calling his phone in the middle of the night and why she sounded so upset when she answered instead of him. Or why there were so many calls between the two of them when Rio was at work when Rio requested she don't blow his phone up when he's at work. Or why when he came home early to have lunch with her he had to leave in the middle because Beth had been blowing his phone up during their entire meal.

Honestly though, Rio knew better than to trip about it. Shit, Rio knew he wasn't even feeling Beth's annoying ass like that. If it was him, some dude called his girl in the middle of the night then had the audacity to sound annoyed when HE answered the phone? He would've flown off the handle before the call even hung up. He'd be out of bed, pulling up his pants and boxers, grabbing his gun and his keys and half way into his shoes.

"You have a girlfriend?" Beth asked, eyes bugging out of her head, mouth open in shock. Why did she look like a salmon?

"You sound shocked. I got game, Elizabeth. Anyways, about your issue tell your FBI man that I hit or whatever." Pushing down the button, she still sat there gaping at him.

"What...?" She blinked, hushing her voice as if someone was gonna hear them. Part of him wanted to tell her to get the fuck out so he could get the fuck home. But in the past eight months, he learned how to have a bit more patience.

"Tell him we made love." Wiggling his eyebrows he made a motion for her to get out of his vehicle and she made her way out. Thank God.

Turning on his engine he winded down the window of the passenger window.

"Make me sound good." And with that he was gone.

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As crazy and inebriated as her momma was for most of her childhood, sometimes she was smart. Like when she taught her how to fight when those girls at school wanted to jump her. Like when she taught her and her sisters to never and she meant NEVER leave your sister in a pinch no matter whats going on between you three. When she taught her how to hot wire a car, and especially when to know if a man was lying.

There were more life lessons, like how to make a crack pipe on the go or how to hide from the police but what can you really learn from someone who was drunk as shit most of your life?

So imagine how shocked and confused she was when she realized 'dang. my momma was right, all niggas are liars.' because her boyfriend had been lying to her their entire relationship? Was it lying or omission? Was she gonna pack her shit and leave without a word to his no-good-low-down-lying-scheming-dirty-bastard self, or put hands on him and go to jail? Lots of decisions for a girl to make in one night. One thing she did decide on the moment she got that phone call from her mom this morning, and got those photos that were taken that first night they met: it was over.

She wished all she felt was anger but that was a lie. With Rio, no Christopher, things were easy. She really was in love, he made her heart swell up like a balloon. When she was at her worse, he was right there and understood and helped her in the best way he could. Understood her anger, understood her sadness. Whatever choice she made, he stood behind it no matter what. He wasn't the type of guy (maybe he could've been, it was clear that she had no clue who he really was) to just sit there and act like he always knew better than you. No, he listened to her, gave her an ear and when she asked for it advice.

This hurt. This wasn't just sadness and betrayal, it was despair. To know that after she fought to get away from her mother. After she got up, walked out that house with nothing but the clothes on her back and said 'if i'm homeless i'm homeless, but its better than being with you' and never saw her again it was only because of that woman that she met someone who she was so head over heels for.

Because of that woman she was sitting here, heart broken. She was sitting here, after sobbing her eyes out in disbelief, after deleting every single picture of the two out of her phone. She was sitting here drowning in rage and betrayal. No. No for once, she couldn't put all the blame on her.

Christopher made the choice to play in her face. He made the choice to waste eight months of her life. To lie, and say he loved her like would be the only woman for him. He probably was cheating on her with that white bitch (with a name like Elizabeth she had to be) and they were probably laughing at her for the past eight months cuddled up together. He made the choice and she fell for it. Outside, the lights of his car pulling up roused some sort of rage deep inside of her. A little voice in her head spoke, it said take a bottle to the backside of his head.

Taking the bottle of liquor next to her, and rearing her arm back over her head she pondered if she was really going to listen to that little voice.

It an easy decision to make.

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"You stupid fuck! Really Christopher, this is what we on?" The scream, and the bottle hitting the wall right next to the door was his greeting. Not a 'hi baby, how was work' like usual. He could already guess he was not about to hit tonight.

"What the fuck? What is your problem?" He yelled back, in this instance he was justified in his screaming considering the murder attempt.

"My problem? My problem? You dickhead, your my fucking problem! You thought shit was sweet? You thought I was just gonna let it slide?" She laughed, anger literally rolling off her.

Taking a moment to look around Rio noticed a few things: the photo of them that was on the table next to her couch was tipped over, the glass shattered the frame on the ground. There was a half empty bottle of wine and a broken glass in the sink. There was a manilla folder, one that he was praying he didn't recognize (but he was starting to think he did), clutched in her shaking hand. Her curly hair was a mess, like she'd been tugging at it in anger.

Sure he knew she'd always been a little bit crazy, he was actually really into it, but did he think this was how their eighth anniversary would start? Nope.

His stomach started to drop. It had been a few months since his business with her mother ended and he was truly hoping from the bottom of his heart hoping she would never find out. He ruled out her mother somehow finally worrying about her enough to tell her.

"What is that?" Rio asked, slamming the door behind him and stepping into the apartment fully. Her neighbors only needed to hear the first part of their exchange, nothing more. She took three defiant steps backwards. The lights were all off, and only the TV was on.

"Got this in the fucking mail today." She growled, throwing the packet at his face. Clear as day, the pictures he had taken of them. For proof. One the first night they met, two on their first date, three when they went to the arcade together and played every game you both could manage and he found himself really trying to impress her. That was when he realized her had a bit of a problem. Then a few more, but eventually they stop after the first two months of their relationship.

The next four months of them being together he resorted to threats and by some miracle her mother found a way to pay off her debts and he was done with her by month six. But not using her for only two out of eight months of their relationship was not a good look.

An awkward silence settled over the two, his stomach feeling heavy. He started to feel warm from shame and fear. The room felt like it was spinning and his mouth felt dry. Even before she said it he knew that he just lost the best thing in his life.

"And some phone calls. Not only did you fucking use me, you also threatened my mom and found my sisters houses?! You dickhead, I'll kill you." She roared, throwing a near by object, which he narrowly dodged.

"Why did you play in my fucking face? For eight fucking months you decided to play in my face and be laid up with me and act like you love me, are you serious?" His head hung low, shame and disappointment and anger. Anger because he knew one thing for sure, this was no ones fault but his. He made the decisions he made. That was on no one but him.

"What you can't fucking talk now? You don't know words? But when that hoe Beth called you could sit up on the phone with her about bullshit right?" She yelled. Rio couldn't even find words. Where should he even start? Beth seemed like the worse place to start.

"Right?" She yelled again, getting in his face before stepping back and breaking into deranged laughter putting a hand on her forehead in outrage. He was panicking. What did he do? Yell at her when he knew he was wrong? Yell at himself for hurting her? What was he even supposed to do in a situation like this? A dry and tear-filled laugh shook him from his thoughts.

"Why though? Why did you do this, I trusted you. I gave you my heart, I gave you my fucking everything. If you can't trust you, then what can I trust?!" The broken sob cut through Rio like a knife. She threw her arms out and drunkenly staggered a bit. She stared, eyes pleading for an answer. An explanation. Anything? But for the first time in a long ass time, Rio had no idea what to say. He felt his palms sweat, gaze still fixed on the photos.

She would never smile at him the way she was in those pictures again. And she grinned as bright as the Sun in each photo except for the first.

When she was still met with silence, Rio resigned. He wanted to say something. Damn, why couldn't he speak? Why was he just sitting there? She was just as confused (surely more confused) as Rio.

"I can't believe this. I let you in and you really sat there and played with me. And you really don't got shit to say either? Well guess what nigga, it's done. I'll die before you hear my voice again, before you ever seem me again. And I could sit up here and yell and scream at you but you know what my momma taught me? As worthless as she was she taught me one thing: the best way to hurt a man is to move on. Get the fuck out." And just like that, before Rio could even say a word it was all over.

The next few minutes were a blur. A trash bag with all his shit was thrown out the window after he was shoved out of her apartment. All the gifts he'd gotten her, the shoes, the jewelry, even her cart that had her name custom printed on it, were tossed out there too. Rio sat out there, outside her apartment complex for what felt like hours.

Shit it probably had been hours. The flowers in the back taunted him. He wanted to stomp on them, he wanted to kick and scream at the world. Why did he fucking do that? For his job of course. Fuck that job, look where it got him. Standing outside the apartment of the love of his life.

Worse, he didn't even speak to defend himself, and she tossed him out so quick that it left his head spinning. He wasn't even sure how he walked to the elevator and made his way to his car. He wanted to die, he wanted to collapse, he wanted to go all the way back in time and tell himself to call off everything and meet her some other way. Now he lost everything that could've been lost to him.

And it was all because of his decisions.

Taglist:

@eddiemunsonreader

[yallemagne]

Every time I see someone say that Remy was a terrible man whore in TAS and so he has no right to feel hurt when Rogue nearly leaves him in '97 I'm like... when? With whom?

Like?? There was that one time that he almost got married, but he was under duress. Not only was Bella Donna threatening to kill his brother, she put some control ring on him. That's an abusive situation! The only other case I think you could argue (and you would be wrong to) is that one time? On Asteroid M? When Rogue came in to save Gambit and said "of course you'd be running with another woman!" because... he was literally running down a hall with Amelia because they had teamed up to take down Cortez. Nothing romantic there. Rogue was teasing.

Am I just stupid? Am I just bad at reading flirtation? Because, other than Rogue, he doesn't flirt much with other women. I mean... he and Logan have some homoerotic back-and-forths. Is that it? Is Wolverine the Other Woman?

Okay, I just remembered: he did flirt once with a shopkeeper in the first episode, so I suppose he has had more explicitly flirtatious interactions, and I just didn't note them because they never had plot relevance, but is that any different from Rogue playfully flirting with other men? 'Cuz she does! She flirts a lot, but it's not meant to be taken seriously. Rogue just has a flirtatious personality, as does Remy.

I think a few instances of flirting with other people from a couple who both have flirtatious personalities is NOT on the same level as Rogue considering leaving Remy to be Magneto's queen. I understand why she considered it! I fully understand the motivation behind it! I hold no grudge against her! ...I did cheer when she ultimately decided not to.

Some playful flirting that's not meant to go anywhere isn't the same as straight-up leaving. Which Rogue has done once before! In Love In Vain, the Brood uses her childhood sweetheart to lure her in. She wanted to run away with Cody in that episode! Her reason? She tells Remy when he's trying to take her on a date to cheer her up that even a swamp rat deserves a girl he can kiss.

I'm not saying Rogue nearly leaving twice makes her a bad person. She's had a shitty past, and it's easier to fall in with people from that past than to let herself be happy with a new man who is open and honest (and kinda obnoxious) about how head-over-heels he is for her. The vilification of Rogue by some people in the fandom is really nauseating and clearly motivated by misogyny, but the response to it being "actually Gambit is a terrible two-timing whore, so good riddance" is no better. You're acting the damn same.

And like the same people who think Gambit is a terrible partner to Rogue also say "oh, Rogue and Gambit were NEVER together, so Rogue wasn't "cheating" with Magneto" at varying degrees like pointing out they were never Official (true) to claiming Rogue never reciprocated Gambit's feelings (blatantly false)... then how are you saying Gambit is a cheater?

I just think about this because something that has been a breath of fresh air for me about this ship that they haven't had a lot of infidelity scares? It would be such easy drama to have Remy flirt with someone else and Rogue beat the shit out of him for it, but that never happened in TAS or '97. So, I don't understand why people insist that is their dynamic.

If anyone tries to cite comic instances - leave. That obviously does not apply here, do not be purposely obtuse.

[radiant-reid]

The Right Person

request:

things spencer would say to his ex who’s his ex but not really his ex bc their hearts always belong to the other but is actually his ex bc they called it quits but just bc it’s over doesn’t mean it’s really over cuz he’s just: last slide

Summary: Right person, wrong time... at least until there's a part two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (angst, sort of)

Content Warning: a tiny spicy moment

Word Count: 3.3k

Masterlist | Navigation

Spencer has always jumped into things too quickly. It's the cocktail of being a romantic, coming from a broken home, failing with most social relationships, and the desperate need for a family.

So when Y/n came along, all smiles and beauty, he moved too fast. Fell is probably a more accurate verb. He fell in love so quickly without any logic that he couldn't help proposing a year in and marrying her six months later.

She offered him support and unconditional love. And for the first time in a tough five years in the FBI, he felt like the world wasn't completely terrible.

The whirlwind relationship would have been much better if taken slowly. It might have even worked out. With their fast pace, neither of them could keep up and after four years, trying to make it work wasn't worth it. The therapy, fights, and long periods without speaking wasted time and drained them both emotionally.

It was like fire. Hot and heavy or warm and comforting, but they were destined for a burn.

Sure, they loved each other more than anything, and they would forever argue that they're soulmates and the timing was at fault.

When Beatrice was nine months old, it was clear things wouldn't, so for her sake, Spencer moved out, the fighting stopped, and they could be friends.

For three months, they've been doing well with their co-parenting routine. Since Spencer had spent so much time away during their marriage, Y/n didn't have to get over the feeling of loss.

Maybe some of that could be accounted for by the fact it still felt like they were dating, the magnetism between them still volatile.

It's Saturday when Y/n's baking in the kitchen. She's yet to enquire about selling it, probably because they're yet to properly get divorced. Somehow, it doesn't feel weird for her to live in their marital home. She ignores how little it feels like they're broken up, especially when she's eagerly anticipating him coming home back from a case. He's not even coming to see her, but she's changed out of her pajamas and put makeup on.

"Guess who?" A voice says while the matching fingers block her vision.

If she didn't know that voice like the back of her hand, she would have freaked out. "You're so close to losing your key, Spencer Walter Reid."

He pulls his hands away, resting his back against the bench with his body facing her. "Boring answer. I would have accepted sexy ex or the smartest man alive." He says, smiling his perfect wide smile.

He looks good, a golden glow still surrounding him, and his shirt fits him tightly around his muscles. She's allowed to say that as his eventual ex-wife, right? It's more of a compliment to herself for attracting attractive, intelligent men. That's how she justifies it anyway.

"Who's been inflating your ego, loser?" She teases.

Repartee of their level is something no one else could ever offer him, and he cringes when other people try. "Jealous?" He asks.

Yes, she is. She'd love to shower him with compliments. Tell him about how nice his hair looks a little bit longer, how he should wear more light blue because it really is his color, how good he smells, and some less innocent things as well. The jealousy boils in her at the thought of someone else doing that. Still, she resists.

"That someone else has to vacate the bathroom for hours each day so you can do your hair? No." She lies. It's a lie on all levels.

Unimportantly, he doesn't spend that long in the bathroom, and he's about the furthest thing from a narcissist there is, but deeply, she would jump at the opportunity to be locked out of the bathroom while he spends far too long in the shower and be greeted with the gorgeous sight of a towel wrapped around his hips and his chest showing.

"Okay." He lets it go, and it annoys her that he won't believe the time. "Can I have some cookie dough?"

"Say please." She directs.

He pouts too much like Beatrice. "Please." He complies before opening her mouth.

She frowns, unsure if he seriously wants her to hand-feed him cookie dough. The answer is yes because he doesn't shut his mouth and tell her it's a joke. She scoops some up, putting her fingers into his mouth. He doesn't let them sneak out without wrapping his lips. It's suggestive, and it doesn't disgust her.

"You'll get salmonella." She tells him when he finally lets her fingers out of his mouth. She tries not to blush like mad while she wipes her fingers on a kitchen towel.

"You'll have to look after me then," Spencer says, justifying it. "As the person who gave it to me."

She shakes her head. "Gross."

"Why are you baking on a Saturday?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at her. He's suspicious whenever things change in her behavior, more so than anyone else's.

"I'm anticipating being busy tomorrow." She answers ambiguously.

It was on purpose, but the goal wasn't to make him curious and ask more questions. She just wasn't jumping at the opportunity to hear his opinion on her love life.

Unfortunately, his curiosity peaked when she started speaking. "Why?" She mumbles out an answer that he doesn't catch. "Come on, don't be shy."

"I'm going on a date." She says finally, avoiding looking at him.

That knocks him off guard, the smile slipping from his face as he steps back. Quickly, he forces himself to say something recoverable to hide the hurt and shock he's feeling at the unexpected news. "Does he know you're married?"

He knows he has no right to be upset about it. Not only are they not exclusive, but they're, in no way, romantically involved. It's why there's no bite in his words, nothing vicious in his tone.

It hits him harder with every passing second. Her statement is something he never expected, and questioning why that is while standing in the middle of their kitchen with her in a beautiful new top, yeah, it's gut-wrenching.

She holds up her bare left hand, shed of a wedding ring. "He doesn't, no."

"What's his name?" Spencer asks next. There are a million questions on his mind, but he keeps the conversation casual.

"Bradley."

She feels guilty for it, unsure if it's cheating guilt or mom guilt, and she's forced to constantly remind herself that it's okay, she's allowed to say yes when she gets asked out and be swept away by someone else.

His next move, to her, seems predictable. Whenever he's looking for more information, he stays quiet, waiting for her to feel awkward enough to elaborate. Even though she used to read him like an open book, she can't see that he's processing, replaying their worst moments-the moments that led them here- in his head.

She keeps talking, annoyed that his old trick is working when really she's just breaking his heart more. "He's a defense attorney, but he accidentally took my coffee the other day."

Spencer resists the urge to scoff because 'accidentally.' He's seen Morgan use the move a hundred times: pretend to mix up the coffees, apologize, and seal the deal by asking if he can make it up to her. "Switching teams, I see." He interrupts, predominantly so that he doesn't have to hear anything else. "And a new top." He mentions. Again, a tactic to get her to stop talking. "What color is it? It would look really nice as a feature wallpaper."

He does that, too, only complimenting things adjacent to her. Talking about fucking interior design instead of just saying she looks nice pushes her buttons, and she knows where his are.

"Yeah, I was wearing a jacket in a similar color, so I'm hoping it's a subliminal message." She admits. "Plus he's tall and very attractive.”

Spencer wants to scream something along the lines of 'I'm 6'1, I have three PhDs, you've told me I'm handsome after you held my hair up while I puked after drinking far too much, and I'm so goddamn in love with you,' but he can barely admit the last fact to himself.

"So he's got brown curly hair and sparkling brown eyes?" Spencer teases her, and she rolls her eyes. That dumb eidetic memory would never let him forget the descriptors she'd given him, and his cocky attitude would never stop mentioning it. "It's not your fault you have a type. Scientifically-"

"Shh." She requests, pressing her finger to his lips.

Without thinking about it, like it was second nature, Spencer purses his lips and kisses her skin. After letting it linger for a moment, she takes it away and turns back to what she's doing.

Again, he draws her attention back to him, cupping the cheek furthest away from him and turning her face to look at him. Once she is, eyes locked on his, he holds her other cheek. He steps forward so that he's so close to her that her breath gets trapped in her throat.

Those fingers on her skin make her feel things she shouldn't be feeling, and her heart starts to thump in her chest when she sneaks a glance at those beautiful veins. Maybe her skin is hot or maybe his fingers are just cold but the contrast sends shivers all over her. It's hard not to think about all the times they've been inside her or how they look wrapped around his cock as he lines himself up with her sex.

"Y/n, if he lays a hand on you, I swear to god." He says threateningly, and it would worry her if she didn't know him so well and if it wasn't so hot.

"You don't believe in god." She calls him out, raising her eyebrows in challenge.

"I can find anyone, anywhere." She can't debate that. "And if he lays a hand on you, I'll kill him or put him in jail for the rest of his life. Your choice."

He's acting like he's doing her a favor, letting her decide how he'll hurt someone who hurts her. It's an odd declaration to be making, contradictory to every bit of his sweet nature, and she doesn't hate it.

"What if I ask- beg for it?" She questions him.

"Oh, I'm not worried about that." He's really not.

He would do immoral things that would make him lose his job and even go to jail if someone hurt her, but the deep feelings he's disgusting as an overprotective bravado against someone assaulting her is really just because he can't stand the thought of someone else being with her.

He's not worried about it sexually. She might be anticipating not being home for the night, but she's not the type to ask a first date to get rough with her. What's got him on edge is her being someone else's emotionally. They might be telling everyone they're not together, but if her heart belongs to someone else, there's no chance of him getting her back, and that's all he wants.

His lips are so close that she could kiss him, but the magnetism makes it challenging to resist. She yearns for the feeling of warm lips against hers, more specifically, the pretty pink ones she's peeking at.

They've had slips before. It's been three weeks since their last one. Every time, she swears she won't do it again, but she's ready to tear his clothes off and fuck him in the kitchen.

She's daring him to make that dangerous leap, and he's about to.

The cries of a woken-up one-year-old through the baby monitor snap them back into a harsh reality before their lips can touch. They both wonder if it's horrid that they forgot why he's there. Spencer lingers for a moment with her face in his hands before he breaks away from her painfully.

"I'll go." He says, leaving her standing there stunned with cheeks hot and a pounding heart.

She has a moment to recover, but it's not enough, and soon Spencer's back in the room with the sweetest baby in his arms. She's giggling, clinging to her dad, who she loves dearly. If Y/n didn't love Beatrice wholeheartedly, she'd be jealous she wasn't enough for Spencer to spend time with. But she can't be. Not when Bea has the greatest dad in the entire world, and she deserves every inch of his love.

"Kiss momma." Spencer directs, holding her up to Y/n's cheek.

She plants a kiss that's mostly saliva on her mom, and despite how messy it is, it makes Y/n grin. "How'd you sleep, baby?" She asks, knowing they'll be no reply. Her vocabulary is limited to three words: mom, dad, and love.

"Not so well last night," Spencer answers like it was intended for him.

He sits on a bar stool at the kitchen island, sitting Bea in his lap. "Spencer," Y/n warns, glaring at him.

"Your mom's mad at me." He stage-whispers to Bea. "I never know why."

"Should we start with lying to a child?" She wonders, but it's playful, not insulting. "Add in some pesky comments."

Spencer pouts, holding Bea up so she can see it and copy her father. "Oh, she loves them." He assures her. "And I love you. So much."

Y/n smiles in adoration. He might be difficult to be in love with, but he's the best dad ever. Spencer catches her staring, it's pretty obvious when the bowl of cookie dough sits abandoned on the counter.

"You look so similar." She says, trying to prevent the awkward since and slightly too romantic looks.

"Need another one to look like you?" He jokes, or maybe it's an offer. She can't really tell.

She scoffs, shaking her head. "I'm alright, thanks."

"But she's so perfect." He coos, her entire hand holding his pinky finger. "How could you not want another one?"

She chuckles at his baby fever. It is practically impossible to not want another child when theirs is so incredible, but they're only masochistic towards each other.

"Don't go getting random girls pregnant, Spencer." She jokingly advises him.

“I’m only ever going to get one girl pregnant.” He tells her.

He’s messy. In fact, they’re messy together, and he can’t keep his dick in his pants, but it’s not a problem he has with anyone else.

"That's possibly very nice." She says, frowning as she tries to figure him out.

"You're lucky." He rephrases.

She laughs, shaking her head. "You're lucky I don't kick you out now."

"Whoa, I get it." He teases. "It's someone's time to get lucky, hang a sock on the door and all that."

"I highly doubt you got any in college." She reminds him.

"Or now." He adds.

It should be weird. Who casually discusses sex with an ex?

"Yeah, I noticed one of your hands seems stronger than the other." She quips, although there's no discernable difference. They're both equally delicious.

"Mm, reminds me, I need more lotion." He mentions, playing along with the joke. "Vanilla, right?"

She fake-gags. "That's literally disgusting." She chides. "Do not go and get the same lotion I have to jack off."

He shrugs casually. "It's a free country."

"You're disturbing." She reiterates, reminding herself he said it to get her flustered.

"Don't flirt with me like that, or I might start thinking you like me." He warns, fluttering his eyelids at her.

She does feel like she's falling in love all over again with him when it's all flirting and comfortable.

"You'd be begging if I was flirting." She assures him, and it's true. Spencer begs like no one else.

"Alright, I think that's time to go." He decides, clicking his tongue and looking at Bea again. "Your mom's too into me for her own good."

That is hitting the nail on the head. She's into him and she always will be, but it's not wise, and it compromises her self-respect time and time again.

He gets up, bouncing Bea on his hip and walking around the bench. She leans forward to kiss her happy baby before playing with her soft hair. "Just admit you lost, Spencer." She tells him.

A little grin lights up his features as he refuses to comply with her directions. "I never lose." Oh, except for his one true chance at happiness and a family with the most remarkable woman in the world.

"Those beautiful big brains." She coos, moving her hand to his hair to part his curls properly.

"I'm sure yours are equally, if not more, beautiful." He says, once again making her stomach slip with the eye contact. "Smaller of course."

She scoffs out a laugh. "Bye." She says. "Her bag's in the hall."

"When do you want her back?" Spencer asks, holding the baby up so her cheeks can be kissed an obscene amount of time.

Their custody arrangement is nonexistent. With Spencer's hectic schedule and their good relationship, there's never been a need to make it official. Bea's always his priority when he's in the District, and that keeps Y/n happy.

Not fully happy. She'd like to see Bea, and her dad, every day, and she's too far from that with the latter Reid to ever be completely satisfied with her life. Months later, she's still convincing herself she can one day not look at him and wish for something unrealistic.

"Whenever." She says. They start walking towards the front door, slowly, both lingering and dragging it out. "If you need to go, you can bring her back."

"If you're in the middle of a date?" He wonders cheekily, grabbing Bea's bag from the floor.

She glares at him, not finished with her sentence. "Otherwise, I'll text you."

"Call." He insists. "We're not texting people."

"Fine." She agrees, swinging open the door. She takes Bea into her arms, giving her a tight hug. "Love you, sweet baby."

"Mom, love," Bea mumbles back, placing her hands on Y/n's cheeks.

Spencer gets the sinking feeling in his chest that he always gets leaving, but it's worse when he's taking Bea, who's Y/n's entire world. It makes him feel nauseating amounts of guilt. How can he be okay with putting her through the loneliness of a house that big being empty?

He smiles at her as he takes Bea back. "Thank you."

She not sure what for and she doesn't have a chance to ask before he's walking out the door, strapping Bea in her car seat. She waves at her mom, looking as happy as always.

Spencer stops before he gets in his seat. "Y/n?"

"Yeah?" She asks, straightening up her posture.

She's hoping he'll say what she wants to hear, although she doesn't know what that is. A Spencer fact would keep things simple, but saying something about how they can get back on track, that she shouldn't go out tonight, would ruin their carefully stacked house of cards.

"He's a lucky guy." He says, and it kills him to know that it used to be him taking her out, watching her grin from across the table, making her laugh until she's begging him to stop, driving home with his hand on her thigh, watching her take off her makeup and become more beautiful, and ending up cuddling in bed, their baby just a room over.

And he can't ever have that again, not with her, and he can't fathom it with someone else.

Y/n goes back inside once he's driven away, hoping for once, after he leaves, that she can not think about him.

It doesn't work. As always, she's stuck thinking about Spencer.

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[fishanks]

ᝰ.ᐟ How OP men would confess

⤷ featuring : monster trio, law, shanks .

⤷ no warnings, I'm a child of God xx

✗Luffy

• in his mind you're already a couple.

• someone will ask him if he has a partner and he's like "yeah! She's right there!" and points right at you

• if you get confused he's also confused, like you didn't know?

• nami would jump in like "um Luffy you can't just force people to date you" and he's like "oi ___, were together right?!" and gives you such a sure look that it makes you genuinely believe that you guys are already together

• I don't believe this man knows you have to actually communicate, like, if he feels something he'll immediately say it so he doesn't get why you'd keep stuff away y'know?

✗Zoro

• held at gun point

• he's locked in a room with the whole crew just glaring at him

• and when he wouldn't do it, they had Luffy bring it up while arguing about who has to wake him up before dinner "___ you should go because he said he liked you or something so he'll take it best from you" and you're all on the floor laughing

• "you can't just believe everything Luffy tells you!" He tried protesting so much. "No zoro, Luffy is the worst liar!"

• he would just stare at the roof for 5 minutes before really quickly saying "be my girlfriend?" With a pout and wouldn't meet your eyes for the next week

✗Sanji

• 2 minutes into meeting you

• but when he's actually serious?? Ooohhh you're in for a treat.

• a candle lit dinner on the most romantic island, had nami dress you up, brooke singing in the background, chopper and ussop are playing around with some lights and throwing rose petals on you, and robin's just watching from above while smirking (he'd shoo them after you're all sat)

• at least 100 poems ready for you, picked out all your favorite flowers to put in a pot on the table and around you, the candles are your favorite scent, he's even wearing the outfit you like the most on him

• "my elegant sweet lovely breath taking lady, will you take such an average man such as myself to be your partner for life? The one who always protects you and cooks for you?"

✗Law

• in a life or death situation

• he tried so many times but his throat just gets stuck

• probably stares at you in the most random times ever and if you ask him if he's ok in his mind he's thinking "alright this is my chance" and ends up asking something like "why are your eyebrows so far apart today?"

• you were fighting one of the strongest opponents you've ever had one day, and got stabbed in the chest by one of the enemies you were fighting off, falling to the floor in pain when he suddenly yells "___ MY GIRLFRIEND ISNT ALLOWED TO DIE" and you're suddenly on your feet again

• after the mission is over you tried to bring it up but he just brushed you off like "yeah what about it?"

✗Shanks

• while he's drunk ass fuck

• was probably playing a card game with the crew and lucky decided to make a bet that whoever lost would have to do something that the crew agreed on (they all ganged up on shanks)

• after the crew told him he had to confess to you he was like "bet" and just threw a random ass banquet as an excuse to get drunk and started following you that whole day hoping a man would try to flirt with you so that he would come and save you

• "hey pretty girl, you alone?" "No she's with her boyfriend" he'd say while pointing at himself and you'd go along with it because you thought it was his way of protecting you, but after the creep went away he turned to you and casually added "no fr though, I'm your boyfriend from now on"

-🐶

[thelampisaflashlight]

Lakeside

[This got longer than expected. Dew gets introspective with Rain.] Below the cut.

Dew lays sprawled out on the dock, legs dangling off the end just above the water, a hand thrown over his face to block out the sunlight filtering through the clouds, turning his head slightly when he hears Rain approaching and giving a little huff of acknowledgement.

"Feeling alright?" Rain questions, crouching down beside his friend, deliberately leaning over him to cast his shadow over his form.

"Not really, no." Dew mumbles, "I came out here to get some fresh air, but... I dunno. Head hurts from thinking too hard about bullshit, and I just... It's nice out here, cold, but nice. Calm, quiet..."

"Did something happen?" Rain asks, moving to lay down next to him.

"Ehn... Yes and no." he says, closing his eyes and letting his hand fall slack at his side, "Talked to Aether about some stuff... feelings stuff. We're good."

"But?"

"...When you..." Dew bites his lip, "D'you think Mount and me come off a-a certain kind of way?"

Rain rolls onto his side, propping his head up with his palm.

"Like, gay?"

"I mean, I guess that's what I'm..." Dew makes a grumbling noise in the back of his throat, "If I said that wasn't the case, what'd you think?"

"That you're not gay or that the two of you aren't an item?"

"See that's-" The other ghoul finally sits up, running a hand through his hair, "It's not that I'm NOT, ya know, into dudes I'm just... It's complicated, and, like, with Aeth, people thought we were a thing for a while but we weren't, and then with Mount, we're buddies and all, but he isn't into me like that, and he's not totally my type, and I just..."

Dew shakes his head.

"Why is it that when it's ME in these kinds of situations that people think I'm dating my friends?"

Rain shifts and sits up as well, shrugging, "Honestly, I couldn't tell you why. I guess, maybe, people see that you're happy or comfortable around someone and they just assume... You know. That you're into them, maybe."

"But they don't do it when I'm around Cumulus or Cirrus, now do they?" Dew points out, "Why's it only when I'm friendly with a guy?"

The water ghoul clicks his tongue.

"What?"

"Real talk?"

"Noo... Don't do this, come on-"

"Dew, I'm gonna have to level with you." Rain starts, placing a hand on his shoulder, "When you like a woman, it's obvious, yeah?"

"Yeah...?"

"When you like a guy... it's really, really obvious."

Dew scoffs, "No it's not-"

"The waiter at that restaurant in Spain, who you kept eyeballing all night."

"Now hold on, I just wanted free tapas-"

"That time that guy at the bar rolled up his sleeves and you almost passed out because all the blood rushed from your head to your-"

"Hey, that was objectively sexy-"

Rain snorts, "I'm not arguing with you, I'm just saying that compared to how you treat women -which, you know, you're respectful and that ain't a bad thing- you treat men more like... like something you wanna fuck, I guess... I dunno, I wanted to put it more eloquently than that, but that's pretty much the most straightforward way I could think to put it."

Dew tents his fingers, deep in thought.

"So what you're saying is that because I don't objectify women, but DO objectify men... people think I'm gay?"

Rain tilts his head and then shrugs.

"Are you saying you're not gay?"

"NO!" Dew shouts immediately, "I mean, no, but... maybe-Augh! I like both, I guess, I just... with women it's like... Women... ya know? And with men it's like... men."

Rain blinks.

"Jesus Christ..."

"Oi, no need for that kind of language now." Rain jokes, then clears his throat, "I kind of get what you're saying, I guess... You like women, you're attracted to them, but with guys it's more... physical, would you say?"

Dew makes a face and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, the tips of his ears turning a bright shade of pink.

"I mean, yeah... Yeah, that'd be..." he swallows, "When you put it that way, it just sounds so... Don't tell anyone I told you about this."

Rain mimes zipping his mouth shut.

"Your secret is safe with me." he says, "But, Dew, there's nothing wrong with liking men, even if your attraction to them is different from the kind you feel towards a woman..."

"Thanks..."

"No problem."

Rain leans back on his hands.

"Question though."

"If you say something stupid right now, I'll smack you like I did Aether."

"When you think about yourself with a guy-"

"...Are you seriously asking me if I'm a top or a bottom right now?"

Rain gives him a once over before meeting his gaze.

"I was actually asking what your type is, I can already hazard a guess as to-OW! YOU BIT ME-"

[gamblersdoll]

PUT MY NAME ON IT, NOW IT DESIGNER 8

cw: mainly fluff, talks of sex, happy ending.

authors note: the grand finale! or what our baby daddy calls it.. “jackpot.” thank you to those who read this little short story of mine, definitely not the last of hakari. thank you, and enjoy.

you never really heard from sinji again. at least you hope not, not ever since hakari blew your back out in front of your now ex boyfriend. and put him in the hospital.

after all of that, it was quiet– peaceful even. no noise, no stress, nothing. not with hakari, which was different. your first shot at dating him was always chaos, either dealing with the fact he was suspended for a good little bit, fighting the staff at school, or other kids. and his minor gambling problem.

but it was different, this time. this time he was sending you roses every day, and the little edible arrangements that you only had to mention once and he was sending them to you every friday. oh, not to mention, dates on every monday and friday.

gojo was like a wingwoman, trying to catch up on boy drama you had or being nosey in general. maki had grown.. decent with hakari, having the mindset of “as long as he treats you right and makes you happy, we’ll be cool.. i guess he aint that bad.” and yuuta just being there.

you were content, at last. you didnt have to be so uptight and tense, you could finally be soft and delicate. thats what hakari did, he subconsciously forced you into your ‘soft girl era��� and you didnt have to worry about a damn thing. because why? hakari would take of it, he would take care of his babydoll.

you sat your head in hakari’s lap only a few minutes ago, staring at the tv as two grown men fight and hakari was leaned back into his couch, chewing on a toothpick in nothing but a wife beater and sweats. his hand on your hip, ever so slightly massaging the fat that endowed the hip bone. he also rubbed his hand up and down your side, sometimes sneaking a glance to your frame and leaning down to kiss your jaw.

he had felt more than warm, feeling like he had won the biggest gamble of the century: you. you were what he wanted, no, needed in his life. someone to tell him when hes at fault, to set him straight when he fucks up, someone he can be comfortable with, everything he needed and wanted, all over again.

his attention was drawn back to the screen, seeing that the fighter he placed a bet on had obviously won, and he chuckled. “that five hundred dollars goes to you, babydoll.” he whispers, taking his hand and entangling them in your hair to scratch your scalp. although he barely had nails, damn could he give good head scratches.

“wha- why me? thats your money..” you had said, still looking at the tv. you didnt think much of it, never arguing with what he said. always just sitting there and looking so pretty for him.

“because i love you.” he had said, feeling the world be lifted off of his shoulders, a weight lifting off his chest and he sucks in a breath. he waits for your response, but you feel butterflies clogging up your chest, and you sit up to look at him.

“you what?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“i love you.” he repeats, looking at you dead in the eye and leaning in close to you, putting his hands on your thighs. “i love you, within everything that i ever had to me.”

it had taken him some years to come around and say that, previously not wanting to say it. why? because he was a dumbass when you first met. now? he was grown, matured. you felt the waterworks start to come, but you shielded your eyes before he could even get the chance. he knew you were such a sucker for sentimental things.

“my babydoll is such a crybaby.” he snickers, dodging at the small hit that you tried to land on him. he chuckled, kissing your cheek and wiping whatever tears you had spilled on your cheeks and kissing them again. “ i love you, babydoll.”

“i love you, too.” you say, bubbled. you chuckled when he snatched you up into his lap, placing pepper kisses all over your face and body as you giggled and laughed.

“lets not repeat the last time we dated, huh?” hakari stated, and you nodded in agreement. he took his left hand and put his pinky up, waiting for you to do it back in return.

you took your left hand and placed your pinky up, interlocking your pinkies together and smiled he kisses your lips, biting on your bottom lip.

“jackpot.” he said to you, his forehead pressed against yours.

“jackpot.”

777