#and I would 'thank her in the morning' which prompted me to unbutton it more. fuck you girl.

[canisonicscrewyou]

worst out of the 13 people I have knowingly kissed is clear cut not gonna lie. You are me. You are at a small frat party. You think one of the guys that you kind of know is cute but it's whatever but your friends and his frat bros push you together basically. After a brief flirt and a drink you awkwardly ask if he wants to kiss. You do. His tongue. Is so. So. Cold. It is so cold that it is the only thing you can pay attention to.

After you pull away he is still holding you and leaning on your tits and he tells you point blank you are not his type at all BUT he IS in LOVE with your mutual friend who is a lesbian. He rambles to you about her and how he knows it wouldn't work out. He keeps apologizing to you as if he is letting you down but actually you decided like at LEAST 10 minutes ago that You Were All Set Thanks.

[chubbology]

A Little Incentive

prompt: someone skinny grows chubby on their partner's good cooking and insistence they eat well

From the tempting smell of bacon and syrup that wafted into the room, I knew she’d outdone herself this morning.

“I made breakfast,” she stage-whispered to me. I grinned and turned over in bed, feigning sleepiness even though what I really wanted was to sit right up and take that plate from her hands.

Then my stomach growled and she laughed.

“The others are jealous,” she said. “But I told them they already had a habit of eating breakfast. You’re the one I need to hammer it into, by any means necessary.”

I took a deep breath and sat up in bed, pushing hair out of my face. “Consider me incentivized.” I took the heaping plate of breakfast food that she pushed at me, then the fork, and started into the chocolate chip pancakes, which were half soaked in syrup. Also on the plate lay bacon, eggs, hash browns, a muffin, and…

“French toast sticks, too?”

“As a reward for finishing all your exams! I know you like them.”

I thanked her. She poked my side and smiled fondly at me. “At the beginning of this semester, you would have said this was too much. I hope you know that it makes me the happiest girl in the world that you’re eating properly now.”

In response, I took a bite of extra crispy bacon and groaned in pleasure. As she got ready for the day, I considered her comment. Eating properly. She and I had different definitions of that, or used to at least.

My first two years of college were hard. Working part time, taking hard classes, dealing with an awful roommate. I barely took care of myself. I thought eating properly was eating at all. But then I met her and we hit it off, became friends and then more than friends, then moved in together with a couple more roommates just barely off campus. All the while, she made a point of showing me each day what eating properly meant to her: big meals cooked in the kitchenette or piled onto plates in the dining halls, snacks throughout the day, and never forgetting dessert. It kept her chubby, but she didn’t mind. I certainly didn’t.

“Bye!” I called out as she left for her last day of exams. She seemed confident about how hers had gone so far. Me? Not so much. I was never a good test taker.

I finished my plate down to the crumbs. I went and leisurely washed the dishes. I had pretty much nothing to do today. From the silence coming from the other bedrooms, I knew I had the apartment to myself, too. I could go outside, but it was too hot. And like hell I was going to go to the library again until I absolutely had to. There were always video games, but I stayed up late last night staring at screens, trying to forget my poor performance on my own last exam of the semester. I felt burnt out on everything.

I blinked in confusion when I realized I’d opened the fridge. I closed it. I literally just ate, so I don’t know why I’d…

The next three hours, I spent back in bed. Looking on my phone, resting my eyes, worrying about exam results, and tugging on my pajama pants. They were tight because I was so full. Eventually I decided to do something productive, starting with a shower. Maybe I could drive to a café or something, hang out there.

After showering and dressing (since I wasn’t exactly full anymore, I figured the tightness of my shorts was from bloating) I wandered into the kitchen for something to snack on. The fridge was always well stocked, and I eyed the rest of the batch of muffins in tupperware. I heard her voice in my mind: It makes me happy when you treat yourself.

What the hell. I took out the container, opened it, and took a bite out of the cinnamon raisin muffin. I closed my eyes. Big and sugary and so good. Better than the first one, maybe, because it had cooled off and I could better taste the flavor. I ate another one. And then I treated myself with a third before closing the lid again. There were still eight left.

I tried putting the container back in the fridge, but something stopped me. Go ahead, I heard her say. You don’t eat enough.

Slowly, I opened the container again and ate two more of the muffins. They were just so good. Then I put the container away, firmly slamming the fridge door and biting my lip. Truth was, she stopped telling me I don’t eat enough months ago.

I went back into the bathroom and took a good look at myself, which I’d avoided doing before. Truth was, my shorts were tight because, thanks to my partner’s cooking and our lingering stays at the dining halls and my new penchant for snacking, I had filled out more than a little. I’d put on my own chub. My shirt clung to my sides, which were soft and rounded (Is that why she poked me?), and upon closer inspection, I couldn’t deny my face looked tubbier, too.

I stood in quiet shock for a while, gently pressing my palm to the outward slump of my belly, its natural shape when I didn’t suck it in. (When did I start unconsciously sucking it in?) After a minute of dazedly contemplating my weight, I rummaged around for a dusty scale and stepped on it with bated breath.

My jaw fell open. My whole face, my neck, my ears flushed red, even though there was no one to see me there, finding out I was thirty seven pounds heavier than expected.

Forty pounds? Almost forty pounds? It was impossible. I didn’t look that much bigger.

But she had always said I was too skinny. So maybe twenty of those just filled me in? And then the rest was…extra? Forty pounds.

The surprise waned after a few more minutes of checking myself out in the mirror. I found I wasn’t as upset as society had led me to think I would be.

I did go to a café later that day. My newfound self-awareness didn’t kick back in until after I got a grande frappe and a scone. At my table, I thumbed the belly that now warmed a small part of my lap before eating and sipping my treats anyway.

My shorts felt so tight after a while, I just unbuttoned them and hoped no one would notice.

I spent a few hours there, reading and browsing my laptop and giving my soft belly secretive, intrigued touches before I started thinking about the six remaining muffins at the apartment. When I got back, I found I was in good company.

“I really did good on these,” she said, swallowing. “Want one?”

I took one, trying to hide my sheepishness. Did she guess it was me who ate the five that were missing? Or did she think it was our other roommates? Did she think…

“You want to get a late lunch?” “I think I need new clothes.”

We stared at each other. She chuckled, “Sorry, what?”

I flushed, tugging conspicuously on my shorts, not quite able to find the words. “Need to go shopping.” I’ve gained almost forty pounds. Forty pounds! My throat constricted.

“Oh.”

I looked up at her. “You’re a good cook,” I said, grinning. Still a little embarrassed.

But now she was a bit pink in the face, too. “Yeah, we should go shopping. Um. You aren’t mad. Are you? I just really like to cook and bake, and you really were too skinny and—”

“No, no! I’m not mad. I—”

Am I going to get fat? I wanted to ask her suddenly, and I felt very warm. I’m always eating these days. What if I outgrow the new clothes I buy? What then?

“I hope you know I think you look good,” she blurted. My thoughts ceased. “Really good.”

Suddenly, I was aware I’ve been sucking my belly in again. Would it be weird if I stopped? Just let it...swell out? I took in a deep breath, then let it all out, not sucking in this time. Her wide eyes fixated on my chubby lower belly.

“Thanks,” I said, trying not to be awkward. “To be honest, I only noticed recently that I look…different.”

Her eyes met mine and she looked very adoring. I’m sure my expression was identical. “Just a little. I was surprised how much your appetite grew.”

“Yeah. You still want to get lunch?” I asked. “Kinda feel like the dining hall.”

Kinda feel like going all out.

I won’t get fat.

Only a little, maybe. Not the end of the world.

“Okay,” she squeaked, as if hearing my thoughts. “Good idea. After all my stupid exams, it’s time to treat myself.”

I wholeheartedly agreed. So we went.

I loved how she looked shyly excited the whole time, as I overdid the second and third helpings. It seemed to make her overdo it some, too. Which spurred me to make it a competition, and there we sat together, overeating like a couple of chubby fiends.

“Still think you’re too skinny,” she taunted me, as we left, already discussing plans for dinner.

*

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

[americanmoths]

The Department of Perfect Timing

for @drarrymicrofic prompt: adoption | tw: mentions of child abuse | nsfw: mentions of blow jobs | ao3 link

--

Potter has a habit of showing up in Draco’s life at the absolute worst possible moments, except for that one time when he pulled Draco from the Fiendfyre or that other time when he arrived late to Luna’s karaoke birthday party and Draco was already unbutton-all-of-the-buttons-on-his-shirt drunk and they dueted You’re the One-Eyed Newt for Me and then Potter blew him in the bathroom. Don’t tell anyone, but Draco wanks to that memory almost daily.

But Potter turning up frenetic and wet to the Department of Magical Family Matters and Nonmagical Emotional Affairs at the very tail-end of Draco’s first day? Awful timing. Draco’s spent eight endless hours listening to people who’ve never bet on familial love and lost discuss the bullshit legal definition of family, and the robe Pansy loaned him fits all wrong, and there’s a hole in his shoe. He’s tired, and now Potter is here, dripping rainwater all over the paperwork Draco just finished organizing.

“I want to adopt a child. Today, if possible.” Awful timing. When Draco’s in charge of the department, he’ll cut all sorts of corners for Potter just to show him he can. Also, he’ll color-code the filing system and send lots of howlers that preach angry sermons about non-traditional family units. But Draco’s only a secretary at the moment, only here because Theo Nott hates owing Draco a life debt more than he hates Draco. Which means, realistically, there’s not much Draco can do other than his bullshit job.

“Are you married?”

Potter sputters. “What? No.”

“Don’t be so —“ Draco doesn’t exactly know what he’s trying to say so he just gestures generally to the other man. “It’s just a segue so I can tell you that you can’t do anything in this department if you’re not married. Thou shalt not adopt a crup if thee be single. I’m only kidding a little bit. The phrasing’s a joke, but that’s a real law.”

“Does that change if he’s muggleborn? He only just got his Hogwarts letter.”

Draco didn’t know Potter was friendly with any muggle children, but also it doesn’t matter. “It doesn’t matter. If you’re married, you can do whatever you want. If you’re not, you can’t. It’s a ridiculous antiquated law that reduces complicated affairs to a fucking yes or no question.”

“Is there. Any way around that?” Potter’s eyes are closed; each word deliberate, pleading, fierce, painful. A lion politely warning you it will kill you if you don’t remove the thorn from its paw now.

“The legislation is uncharacteristically clear. Only couples shall be permitted the joy and challenge of a child. That’s a direct quote. Isn’t it horrible? Of course, you could always pretend. Get married, adopt, wait a nonsuspicious amount of time, divorce, celebrate a triumphant return to bachelorhood by retaining legal custody.”

“All of my friends are married. Except for Luna and she’s … preoccupied these days.” With muggle hallucinogens, Pansy and walking around her apartment naked, none of which are especially appropriate for a child. “Malfoy, please. Can you pull some strings? It’s my cousin’s kid. They haven’t been feeding him.”

Don’t tell anyone, but it’s the please that does it.

“I’ll marry you.”

“What.” Somehow, even the water Potter splashes on Draco’s desk is incredulous.

“I can’t change the law, but I do work here. I can streamline the process. We can get married in the morning, file the paperwork after and pick up the child by tomorrow evening.”

He casts a drying charm so he has something to do other than feel disgustingly exposed while he waits for Potter’s answer.

“Why would you offer to do something like that?”

Because there’s a child in a home he doesn’t fit in. Because you called yourself untethered and then blew me in a bathroom. Because you said please, Draco thinks, and then tries hard not to think and says, “I need somewhere to stay. I’ll help you with this if you get me off of Luna’s couch.”

“This had better not be a joke.”

“Merlin, of course not. A child’s life is at stake.”

The hard line of Potter’s mouth softens just a little bit. “Do you have any experience with kids?”

“I took care of Teddy for a month while I was staying with Andromeda.”

He was great at it too, even if Teddy kept on asking him why he cried so much and Draco had never figured out a polite way to say that he kept seeing flashes of his mother in Andromeda’s face.

Potter nods. “Alright. Just until we get him out of my cousin’s house. Errr … thanks. This is … good of you.”

“When can I move into your place?” Draco asks. Now that it’s happening, he wants it to have already happened. He wants to go to the zoo with Potter and the kid, wants late night talks after the kid has gone to sleep. Hopefully, the boy’s named after a constellation, though actually Draco’s been burnt off the Black family tapestry already, so he doesn’t have any obligation to have celestial-themed offspring anymore. He’s always liked the name Micah, maybe the kid will too? The name change process is considerably less complicated than the adoption process. You can basically rename yourself anything as long as it has less than six Z’s.

Potter shrugs, smiles sheepishly. “Is now a good time?”

Draco only has 8 galleons, two friends and a job he hates. There’s a hole in his shoe, and a storm outside. It’s the worst time, but maybe the best time, actually?

[wildfl0wer-meg]

Hi babes, smut prompts 18, 19, and 20 with poly cashton?

I’m so weak for poly!sos

18: you won’t be able to walk tomorrow when I’m through with you.

19: how funny do you think teasing is now?

20: after that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy.

warnings: smut! (edging/ teasing, oral (male and female receiving), very light d/s dynamics, light bi!cashton

bi!cashton x fem!reader

———

Out of all of the things that you enjoyed in your relationship with Calum and Ashton, the once a month when they would decide to spoil you on a shopping trip had to be a favorite.

It was always random, and never planned. You’d wake up one morning and they’d tell you to get ready so you can go shopping, and of course you never argued.

You’d been to a couple stores already, and Calum and Ashton had both helped you pick out a few things. When you saw their favorite and expensive lingerie store coming up you smile to yourself and pretend that you don’t see it.

“Mr. Hood and Mr. Irwin!” The lady smiles as they lead you inside.

“Hello Susan, how many time do I have to say that you don’t need to call us by our last names? It’s just Calum and Ashton,” Calum smiles as he walks over to the bralette area.

“Is there anything that sticks out, princess?” Ashton asks as he leans to whisper in your ear, You look around the store, a few other couples as well as women on their own wander around.

You walk to begin to search the racks of clothes, Ashton looking close by when you here a giggle followed by Calum chuckle.

Looking up you’re quickly able to spot Calum, across the store in the underwear section. A girl stands next to him, batting her eyes flirtatiously. The tape measure that she plays with that hangs loosely around her neck gives away that she works their and you instantly pout, trying to brainstorm a way to get Calum’s attention back on you.

Your eyes spot an extremely revealing set close by. It was lace and soft, which were both of your boyfriend’s favorite materials, as well as red which Ashton said flattered your skin tone.

“Excuse me?” You smile at the older lady who greeted your boyfriend’s at the door. “I would like to try on his set...”

Susan leads you to the dressing rooms with a smile. “Here’s the matching robe as well sweetheart, I’ll let your boyfriends know that you’re in here,” You thank her before closing the door, slowly peeling off your clothes as you redress into the lingerie.

“You have to show us, babygirl,” Ashton hums as he knocks on the door and you call out with a smile saying that you’re coming out as you wrap the robe around yourself and unlock the door.

Calum smirks as you step out, his chin resting on his fists as he watches you. Ashton’s leaning against the wall near you as he reaches out to touch the robe around you, you’re quick to smack his hand away.

“Wait,” you glare and the man smirks as you let the robe drop to the floor. Calum smiles finally leaning back.

“God you’re so pretty, princess,” Calum says as he stands up and walks over to you, you let him grab your waist as he spins you around to look at the full set.

A cheeky smile finds your face as you lean into him, pressing your ass against his crotch. He quickly grabs your hips as you teasingly sway them but before he gets too into it you pull away and smile before happily skipping back into the dressing room to get redressed.

“Fucking tease,” you hear Calum groan and you giggle to yourself.

You spend the rest of the day doing the same. Whenever given the chance you were “accidentally” rubbing up against one of them or your hand rubbed up against them whenever you reached over their laps.

This goes on for a few more hours and by the time you’re back at their car ready to head home you’re exhausted, but they’re not.

You climb into the backseat, expecting Ashton to drive and Calum ride in the passenger seat like they normally do but they have different plans when Calum climbs in next to you.

“Calum...?” You ask and he just shakes his head.

“You really thought that after that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy.” He chuckles as you gulp seeing the fire behind his eyes.

As Ashton pulls out of the parking lot Calum’s hand finds your thigh and he pulls you over to him so that you’re straddling him. He roughly grabs your jaw before kissing you and his kiss is just as rough. He bites your lip before letting his tongue slip into your mouth and despite you knowing that Ashton should be driving you can feel his eyes burning into you both through the review mirror.

It’s not long before Ashton is pulling up to the house and getting out, Calum pulls away from you and drags you out of the car, forgetting all of the bags inside.

You’re quickly taken inside and you don’t even have enough time to kick off your shoes before Calum is pushing you on up the stairs and into your room.

Ashton is already waiting. “That was quite the show you two put on,” he smirks and you smile nervously at him as Calum’s fingertips tease your sides, his face already buried in your neck. “Come on Cal,” Ashton calls him away, Calum begrudgingly pulls away, glaring at his boyfriend who just chuckles at him and quickly walks over, letting his hands wander to Calum’s back.

You watch with a small smile as Calum closes his eyes and enjoys Ashton who kisses the back of his neck before pulling his shirt over his head. Ashton’s hand rubs over Calum’s now bare back before kissing it softly and turning his attention to you. He grins almost kindly when he sees the softness in your eyes for your boyfriend.

“Get undressed, princess,” Ashton says and you quickly get to work but you dont take your eyes off of your boyfriends.

Ashton takes his shirt off as well, quickly unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down to leave him in only his boxers.

Calum follows Ashton’s lead, and you smile at him. Calum always listened and followed Ashton’s orders. You enjoyed teasing him about it at certain times because Calum would never admit it.

Calum quickly snaps his attention back to you soon. A smirk falling onto his mouth as he walks over to you and pushes you lightly so that you would lay on the bed.

He hovers over you, admiring you momentarily before he roughly kisses you. His teeth nip at your lip and you smile against his lips as you let his tongue push into your mouth.

You can hear Ashton walking closer to the bed slowly, coming around the the left side and the bed dips as he sits down.

Calum pulls away from you, his eyes glancing over to Ashton before he begins to kiss down your neck and onto your body. He stops over your breasts, his lips and tongue teasing your nipples before he goes lower and your breath hitches, eyes moving to look at Ashton.

Calum kisses your thighs softly, sucking harshly after a moment and you whimper at the thought of the marks that he’s leaving. As he moves to your core he makes eye contact with you, a cheekily and yet sinister smirk permanently etched onto his face as he dives it.

You gasp, his tongue is cold compared to your center and as it flicks over your clit you moan, hips stuttering. Ashton reaches over to hold your hips down, and he moves so that he’s able to kiss you.

“Tell Calum how he’s making your feel...” Ashton says as he pulls away and you look down at the head between your legs as Calum roughly sucks and licks at you.

“Fuck,” you moan, “so good Cal—you make me feel so good,” you reach down to grip at his hair that has gotten extremely long over quarantine.

Ashton doesn’t kiss you again, he just watches as you get closer to your orgasm. “Calum!” You moan loudly, pulling at his hair as you push your head back into the pillows, eyes squeezed shut. You’re right on the brink when he pulls away completely and sits up. He licks his lips that are shiny with your juices and he wipes off his face.

“Calum,” you whine, bucking your hips up. “Please...”

He chuckles, “how funny do you think teasing is now?” He asks and Ashton laughs as well.

“Ashton?” You ask as you look over at your other boyfriend and he chuckles as well as he stands up and lets his underwear fall to the floor as he takes Calum’s spot between your thighs.

“If you’re a good girl and suck off Calum as I fuck you, maybe we’ll think about letting you cum,” Ashton smiles and flips you over into your hands and knees. Calum takes off his boxers and slides to sit at the head of the bed under you and you let out a shaky breath.

Ashton smirks and he slowly pushes into you, leaning over to whisper in your ear as he bottoms out. “you won’t be able to walk tomorrow when I’m through with you.”

-------

Hi loves! I really like how this little drabble turned out! As you know I'm in love with poly!sos so I'd love it if I could get some more poly requests in my inbox!

I'm currently taking requests from THIS prompt list

Masterlist

[hauntedfalcon]

tog fic prompt: anything with an outsider pov

The man in the blazer and turtleneck walks up to Sophie's counter and says, "I'd like to speak to your manager."

Sophie, still bent over an inventory list that has way too many red lines struck through it, says, "I would love to make that happen for you, sir, but she's not answering her phone today."

He nods like he was expecting this. "She wasn't here last evening...?"

"No," Sophie laughs bitterly. "That was also me."

"Ah. Then I'd like to talk to you, if you have a moment."

It's clear from his soft spoken demeanor that this is not about a defective air fryer, and from his lack of visible identification that he's not press or police. A secret shopper, maybe, or someone from corporate. Whatever he needs is probably beyond Sophie's ability to grant, but that's on goddamn Janine for staying home this morning.

In any case, it's a conversation they can't have on the sales floor. The shortest route to the break room is through the crockery aisle, which is roped off. Sophie steps over the barrier and leads him past where the heavy-dutiest carpet cleaning solution they sell has had no effect on the bloodstain.

"None of your people were injured?" the man checks.

Your people. He makes it sound like he's one general talking to another. She's going to start thinking of her coworkers as her people from now on. Especially Kelsey and Mitch, since they were also on shift to witness some kind of... assassin grudge match Killing Eve shit. She can't help but feel like they bonded. "Everybody's fine," she says, unlocking the break room for him.

The man sets a pocketbook on the table, and unbuttons his blazer as he sits. Sophie tosses the inventory list down and drops into her seat with a sigh. The man asks, "Do you have a total on the damages?"

"So far, seventy-five grand in merchandise. But the insurance people haven't come out to look at the building yet."

"Right. And the fire started due to..."

"A jar of goose fat." At his stare, she adds, "Ignited with a crème brûlée torch."

The man's genteel masque slips an inch and he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Was this before or after the window was broken?"

"After. One of them got me and my coworkers out that way once the fire started spreading."

"Which one, out of curiosity?"

"Tall-ish? Curly hair, nice eyes. He was the one who left that bloodstain." Too much blood, in Sophie's un-medical opinion, for someone to get back up and immediately corral three people through a broken window.

The man nods. "And you don't have security on staff."

Only loss prevention, and only on high-traffic days. "Sir, this is a Williams-Sonoma."

Composing himself, the man opens his pocketbook and starts writing with a pen that looks somehow both expensive and completely unremarkable. "Right," he says, tearing out a check and handing it to her. "That should be at least what insurance will estimate."

The check is made out to corporate, issued from Copal Restoration. Sophie reads what's in the dollars field, and coughs.

"Now, miss," the man continues, starting on a fresh check, "I'd like you to think of a number that would be sufficient compensation for never mentioning this incident to anyone else again. Press or civilian, in person, or otherwise. Reddit, Twitter, what have you. And that number should take into account any therapy treatments to process the trauma of this experience, even if you don't believe you'll need it at this time."

It certainly wasn't an ordinary closing shift, and she did take a while to fall asleep last night, but she hasn't started looking for a shrink. If anything, she's still impressed that one of the women--the cute one with the bomber jacket--threw a meat cleaver so hard it lodged in the display of Dutch ovens.

"Am I supposed to sign an NDA?" Sophie sneers.

"I'm the only one signing here," he says with a reassuring fake smile.

"Okay," Sophie says slowly. And then she says a number. Worst case scenario, the check will bounce.

He does not bat an eyelash. He writes the number down, and leaves the "Pay to the order of" field blank, and he hands her the check. "How many of your coworkers were in the store last night?"

Sophie can't seem to find her voice, so she holds up two fingers. He writes two more blank checks and hands them to her. "Miss, thank you very much for your time, and please accept my sincerest apologies on behalf of my people. I can promise you it will not happen again. Not as long as I'm around, anyway."

Sophie only nods as he puts his pocketbook away and walks out.

come by the store, she texts Kelsey and Mitch when her hands stop shaking.

fuck no, Kelsey (rightly) says.

I don't want you to clock in. someone dropped something off for you guys and you should come get it right now. before the banks close

brt, Mitch says.

hey, Sophie adds after a moment's consideration, do you guys want to go to that new axe-throwing bar tonight?

[biggest-stupidhead]

hello love! can i request erwin x fem reader smut where they're quite the opposite, and after a mission they're tired and just fuck (maybe in the woods or something) because they're so stressed but also because they've been wanting to do it long before? like everyone feels the tension between them except they don't wanted to admit it? thanks! i love your blog. 🥺✨

Hey babes, of course! Thanks for sending this one in, I love writing for Levi but I need to switch it up sometimes lol. 

Warnings: lowkey hatefucking, intercourse obvi,  fucking in da woods, wrap it before u tap it!, unprotected sex. 

Summary: Erwin is selfish, but it’s okay because you are too. 

Word Count: 2.4K 

__

Your breathing was uneven as you hunched over, chest rising erratically. Your blades were dull and gas was running low, you tapped on the cans ruefully, the dull din signaling how empty the canisters truly were. You were just starting to regain your senses when the sound of hoofbeats startled you. Hange tugged the reins of her horse, the beast turned its head and bared its teeth when she pulled so harshly on the bit. 

“Excellent work! That was a clean cut.” Hange complimented as she smiled wryly down at you. You nodded and lifted your fingers to your lips and whistled for your own mount. 

“Thanks, it was a big one too. I’ll have to find the supply wagons though, gas is almost gone.” You said as you tossed the dulled blades off to the side and slide the handles of the gear back into the scabbards. 

“Ah you’ll have to work on that.” Hange said, her head swiveling to keep watch while you waited for your horse to return. A few moments passed before the sound of your horse trampling through the foliage alerted of its return. You caught it by the reins and threw yourself onto its back.  

“Let’s return to the formation then.” Hange said, once again roughly jerking her horse into the right direction, you close on her heels. The two of you rode through the trees at break neck speed, trying to make up for lost time. You finally managed to make out the sight of Erwin and Levi, their own steeds galloping back in the direction of the wall. 

“What’s going on!? I haven’t caught my titan yet!” Hange wailed when you reunited with the other pair. 

“Too many casualties.” Levi quipped, expression sour and hands bloodied. You rolled your eyes and clutched the reins harder. 

“We just need a few more minutes, let’s not call it off yet.” You insisted and Hange exclaimed excitedly at the shared sentiment. 

“Won’t be possible, we can’t risk loosing more lives. There’s been enough bloodshed for one day.” Erwin’s voice was tense and his blue eyes were icy as he shot you and Hange down. 

“I don’t see why it matters, if we already have lost most of our men...why not push onwards?” You weren’t sure if you really felt that way, or if you were looking for a fight. You were well aware of how Levi felt about losing his men, and how little Erwin truly cared about loosing lives. You knew that was what separated the two of them, Erwin only cared for his own selfish goals, although he hid it well. Levi on the other hand truly cared for the soldiers, and wanted victory for humanity. 

“Shut your filthy fucking mouth.” Levi hissed, gunmetal eyes dark and jaw tense as he bit back his words, waiting for Erwin to tell you off. 

“We simply don’t have the means at this time.” Erwin said simply, eyes trained forward. You glowered at him, you couldn’t deny that you held some malice towards him, for his seeming lack of empathy towards his men. But could you blame him? You had joined the scouts for your own selfish desires as well, he just had the power to ensure that his desires were acted upon. 

“Very well.” You growled, leaning into your horse’s neck as the four of you picked up the pace. Erwin lifted a flare gun and fired the signal into the air for retreat. 

__

The march into the gates and through Shiganshina was brutal as always. The citizens murmured of their wasted tax dollars and the waste of human life. You silently agreed with them, glaring at the back of Erwin’s perfect blonde head. You wanted nothing more than to scream at him, maybe even slap him, then you’d fuck- wait no. Not that last part, you shook your head in an attempt to rid the vulgar thoughts from your mind. 

The castle was notably vacant when you arrived. Having lost so many men, the grounds were less busy than usual. You wandered around, having already put your horse away and assisted with the unloading of the excess supplies. You were grateful for the summer breeze, the last rays of light poking through the trees. You wandered off towards the thicket of trees that rested between the castle and the mountain range beyond. 

The sounds of the forest seeped into your bones and reminded you of your home, your family, why you had originally agreed to this regiment. You were so caught up in your own thoughts, you almost didn’t hear the twig snapping off to your right. You whipped your head towards the noise, catching the flash of blonde hair and a stark white dress shirt. 

“Following me?” You growled, turning to face him fully, Erwin’s cold blue eyes shone in the dim light. 

“To an extent.” He shrugged nonchalantly and you bristled at the admission. 

“Come to ravage me?” You pushed, wanting a reaction from the usually stoic man. 

“Not exactly.” 

“Then what? You men are simple creatures after all, only so many motives behind your dull eyes.” You bit, unable to keep the frustrations from your tone. Erwin’s thick brows pinched together at your words. 

“I came to tell you that....I want you to be a squad leader.” Erwin’s jaw ticked as he waited for your response. You let out a scoff of disbelief, eyes shining with mirth. 

“Why? Because I showed a fraction of the coldness that you display?” You hissed, marching across the small amount of space between you and attempted to get in his face. Although it was difficult seeing as how tall he stood. 

“Precisely.” Erwin’s voice was a bit airy, eyes now seeming to shine with something besides the cunning that usually resided in them. You narrowed your own eyes and let loose a growl fisting the front of his shirt as you considered your options. 

If you accepted the position, you would be no better than him. But then again were you really any better in the first place? 

“I’ll do it.” You released him and took a step back, determination gleaming in your eyes. 

“I knew that you would.” He smirked, lips curling into an annoying grin, making your stomach flip. 

“Could this not have waited until morning?” You asked, eyes drifting to the last glimmers of sunlight that spotted the forest floor. 

“I suppose it could have...but I wanted to see you before then.” You wrinkled your nose in disgust, earlier suspicions proving true. 

“Oh really?” You huffed with a dramatic roll of your eyes. Erwin’s expression darkened, and he took. a step forward, invading your space. You stood as tall as you possibly could, not wanting to let on how nervous you really felt in his suffocating presence. 

“I wanted to ask you...why you are so bent on challenging my authority.” It wasn’t a question, more of a statement, putting you on the ropes. You glowered at him, his chest bumping yours, prompting you to take a few healthy steps back. Which you did, until your back met the rough bark of an oak tree. 

“Why should I listen to someone who holds no regard to human life?” You snarled in response, but it felt more like a yelp, your heartbeat picked up as his hand gripped the tree, trapping you between his towering figure and the large tree. 

“I can’t help but wonder if it could have something to do with the way you stare at me….” His breath tickled your face as he craned his head down, your cheeks lit up as you blushed. 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You denied, although it was true, you had developed a bad habit of seeking out his form in the dining hall. Watching him too closely during meetings. He was attractive, that was an undeniable fact, but the resentment that you held for him had always prevented you from seeking out anything more than the professional relationship that had been established. 

“I know you do, I’ll only offer this once and never again. I’ve had this on my mind for a while now, if you aren’t interested then we can pretend that this never happened.” He paused, gauging your reaction as you looked up at him in shock. 

“I want to fuck you. Right here.” He pointed his finger towards the ground and his eyes flashed with an animosity you’d never seen before. 

“H-Here?” You stammered, unsure of what to think, but the ache between your thighs was quickly overcoming your senses. 

“Yes.” His other hand slid up your side and rested over the strap of your gear over your breasts. 

“What will it be then squad leader?” He hummed as he toyed with the buckle. You swallowed thickly but managed to nod curtly, not wanting to verbally admit your attraction to your commander. 

“Use your words.” He ordered, tugging harshly on the strap, pulling you flush against his chest. You gasped, head tilting up to meet his cold gaze. 

“I….want you to fuck me commander.” You grew more confident with each word, and you could see the pleased smirk curling over Erwin’s features. 

“Glad we finally agree on something.” He huffed, fingers easily unbuckling the strap and then deftly unbuttoning your blouse. As he did so he walked you back against the tree, he left your shirt on, instead favoring unbuttoning your trousers. You gripped his jacket as he slid his hand down to cup your pussy. He chuckled at how wet you were, his large fingers gathering your slickness before slipping into you. You let out another gasp and pushed his jacket off of his shoulders, he withdrew from you to help you undress him as well. You only got to undo his pants before he pressed his lips to yours, tongue pushing past your lips.  

He leaned down and scooped you up, hands supporting the backs of your thighs as he used the tree to keep you steady. Your head hit the tree roughly as he continued to attack your mouth, you could do nothing but open your mouth to meet his lips. He slid one of his hands up and gripped the waistband of your pants, pulling them just below your knees, it was a bit of a struggle due to the position he had you in. But you got there eventually. The air felt cool against your exposed sex, and you found yourself blushing crimson as he pressed you harder into the tree so that he could free his cock. You bit your lip in anticipation as he finally managed to pull himself free of his pants. 

He pulled away from your lips, eyes lidded and clearly focused on lining himself up to your entrance. You hissed when the head of his cock slid effortlessly along the length of your pussy. Finally he pressed the tip inside of you, pausing as he shifted to grip both of your thighs and gain better leverage. 

“Erwin please.” You whimpered, rocking your hips in an attempt to get him to fully sheath himself. 

“Beg for it.” He hissed, breath hot against the shell of your ear before his tongue darted out and licked a stripe up the side of your neck. 

“I-I need you so bad, please I need you to fuck me.” Your hands clawed at his shoulders as you used your core to keep yourself upright and legs spread for him. 

“Good girl.” He growled, finally snapping his hips and sheathing himself in one thrust. You groaned at the fullness, walls stretching to accommodate his size. His own breathing seemed to grow more erratic as he began to rock his hips back and forth. Your back burned from the friction of rubbing against the tree behind you. There was no doubt about you having some kind of scratch in the morning. 

You threw your head back against the trunk of the tree as he picked up the speed, hands roaming up from your thighs to your ass, you clenched your legs to wrap around his waist. Your muscles burned but the coil that was building in your stomach kept you motivated, wanting nothing more than to cum over his cock. 

He grunted as you twitched around him, his hips somehow seemed to gain more speed, nose burying between the space between your neck and shoulder. You felt him leave a wet kiss there before sucking harshly on the skin. You tilted your head in the opposite direction, giving him more room as he lapped his tongue along the newly exposed skin. 

“E-Erwin I think that-” 

“Wait.” He snarled against your throat, biting it a bit roughly, you moaned wantonly at the action and dug your heels into the small of his back. His cock stroked along the rigid spot inside of you and you nearly screamed, barely containing your orgasm as he had asked you to. He struck that spot relentlessly, hips meeting yours harshly as he pounded into you. 

“Just like that.” He groaned as he pushed you flat against the tree, using all of his strength to keep you there as he drove into you. 

“Please Erwin let me cum.” You sobbed as he bit your collarbone, his dick twitched inside of you at your plea, he pulled back, icy eyes locked on your wrecked face as tears rolled down your cheeks. 

“Only since you’ve been such a good girl.” He growled, and reached down between your legs, you tightened your grip on his shoulders to make up for the lost support as he pressed his calloused finger to your throbbing clit and rubbed tight circles. Your legs twitched as you felt the coil snap and your cunt clamped down around his dick. He hissed at the sudden tightness and groaned as he came as well. You felt the warmth trickle out of you as he pulled away. He held you up as you shook, coming down from the high he had given you. 

“See what we can do when we work together?” He chuckled darkly, hand toying with your bra as you clung to his neck. 

“Keep dreaming eyebrows.” You huffed, pulling away from him and shakily pulling your pants up. He tucked himself back into his pants and picked up his jacket from the forest floor. 

“See me in my office tomorrow and we will discuss your promotion.” He called after you as you marched back towards HQ, cheeks burning from the interaction you’d just had with your commander. You threw your hand up dismissively, trying to ignore the dark chuckle he let out when he saw how flustered you were. 

Maybe he wasn’t all that bad after all….

[moral-turpitudes]

Reap What You Sow:

Masterlist | Rules | Peaky Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Sight Mentions of Blood/Gore, Fluff.

Word Count: 3,273

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Requested: Yes

Requested by: Anon, you can find it here.

Summary: Y/N is accused of stealing a check from the company, resulting in her being fired. But only after a tense situation, does her boss and longtime crush Thomas find out the truth.

It was nearing midnight as Y/N walked through the shop, her heels clicking on the uneven wooden floors as Linda finished the nights paperwork, a nervous look on her face as she shuffled them away.

Y/N paid no mind as she sat down at her desk near Thomas’ office. Tapping her pen nervously as she glanced at her wristwatch. They were supposed to be here by now. All of the Shelby brothers were supposed to be shouting and running through the shops still high on their victory against one of the other gangs in town. They were supposed to be sighing in relief and pouring the boys drinks, but only silence ensued as Linda crept towards the company safe which she’d sneakily found the combination to while going through Y/N’s desk one night. With a quick movement, she unlocked the heavy door, yanking it open and rifling through the stack of blank checks and tearing off a slip.

“Are you alright Linda? Do you need help?” Y/N asked as she saw her walk quickly back to her seat.

“I’m fine, just had to move around the shop a bit. Nerves right?” She said while fiddling with the slip of paper hidden in her hand, out of sight from her curious coworker.

“Yeah, I understand. They should be back by now. I don’t know where they are, but I’m sure Arthur will go straight to you when he arrives though.” She said with a small smile.

Linda nodded and quickly wrote the check out, shoving it in her purse before giving Y/N a small stack of papers.

“I’m going to run a letter to the mail, I’ll be back.” She said, walking out the door before Y/N could speak.

“Weird.” She mumbled to herself as she went back to going through the papers Linda handed her, all ones Thomas needed to sign-off on in the morning.

The cold air crept through Linda’s dress as she walked with her arms clutched around her to keep warm, the mailbox just in her sights as she remembered what she had to do.

“I’ll pay you if you keep quite about us alright love? It’ll only upset Arthur if he finds out. It could ruin our chances of being together if he’s not dealt with.” She’d said to her lover the night before Thomas’ plan went into effect. Tonight they were planning to take down a troublesome gang that strolled into town, but they were none the wiser to who she’d been fooling around with right under Arthur’s nose. The man was one of the gangs hit men, with the precise instruction from Linda to take Arthur out so she could run off with him instead.

The car nearby sent a shiver down Linda’s spine as she dropped the check into the mailbox, hoping it would all be over soon with no one suspecting her. She even used a blank check thinking no one could trace it, but little did she know just how well Shelby Company Limited kept their finances. As the car neared, she hoped Arthur wasn’t inside, meaning her plan had worked and her payment would be sent. But only time would tell.

With quick steps she went back into the shop, seeing Y/N walking out of Thomas’ office as she’d placed the remaining paperwork on his desk.

“Did ya find it okay? I thought you’d left for the night.” Y/N said.

“Everything is fine Y/N. Were you able to get those papers sorted?” She asked, changing the subject as the boys walked through door looking worse for wear.

“Yes.” Y/N answered quickly as she followed Linda’s wide-eyed gaze to the front door.

“Y/N go get the first aid kit. Now!” Thomas demanded as he sat Arthur down in a nearby chair, John helping unbutton his shirt as Finn grabbed the whiskey from Thomas’ office.

“Drink up brother this is going to hurt.” Finn said, holding the bottle to his lips as he chugged the brown liquid.

“My god what happened?” Y/N heard Linda ask as she gathered the first aid kit with shaking hands.

“Those fuckers shot me, one of the fellows almost shot me in the head damn near.” Arthur said through gritted teeth as Thomas looked at the gunshot wound to his abdomen.

“Here Tom.” Y/N said quickly, handing him the kit and crouching near Arthur to hold his hand that Linda was surprisingly not holding.

“It’ll be alright, deep breaths.” Y/N said squeezing his hand a bit to take his mind off Thomas extracting the bullet.

The room filled with Arthur’s shouts of agony as Thomas worked to dislodge it, his blood spurting out every so often from the movements of the tools.

“Linda are you alright?” John asked as he saw her face turn pale. He was holding Arthur back and helpless at the point.

“Yeah. Arthur? Love? It’s me. I want to stay but I’ll be no use on the floor. I’ll go home to be get things ready for you. Stay strong love.” She said quickly, her face sparkling with sweat as she fought back nausea from the sight of her almost ex-husbands blood. A panicked feeling shooting through her veins as she realized her plan was falling apart.

“Oh alright, just go!” He shouted drunkenly as he grew frustrated at the situation. His mind trying to piece together why he was targeted out of all of them as Thomas stopped the bleeding and stitched him up.

“I don’t know Tom, I don’t know why they aimed at me....why he aimed at me I don’t know....” He said, drifting off as he grew tired from the ordeal.

“It’s alright we’ll figure it out in the morning.” Thomas said, helping his brother up as John got the door and helped him into the car.

“Where’s John taking him?” Y/N asked, wiping her hands on her dress as she stared at the bloody mess on the floor.

“Home. He can rest there more than here. Thank you for looking after the shop with Linda.” He said, going to clean up the mess.

“It’s no problem Tommy. Here I can clean that...if you need a moment to rest.” She said, grabbing a cloth near her and dousing it in some of the whiskey.

Thomas stepped back as she wiped the rest of the blood away, her hair falling out of its loose bun as she ringed the last of the blood off the towel and into the small pail that contained the bullet.

“Are you hurt or anything?” She asked, her heart racing as she realized he’d been staring.

“Just a few scratches. Don’t worry about it love.” He said, lighting a cigarette and staring into her eyes. Y/N could feel her cheeks heating up as she looked back towards her desk, the old butterflies she’d had tucked away for the man resurfacing as of late.

“Well if everything’s done here, am I free to go?” She asked.

“Mhmm.” He said, walking towards his office as she gathered her things. His mind racing with why his brother was shot out of all of them. If anything he thought he would’ve been the first on their hit list.

“I’ve left the paperwork from today on your desk if you feel like signing them. Goodnight Tommy.” She said giving him a small smile.

“Thank you, good night love.” He said, his lips turning up slightly as he watched her walking out the door.

The next morning, Michael had came into his office urgently, with a stack of checks in his hand.

“One of them are missing Tom. Wasn’t me but it was recent. I can tell because we just wrote one today and the one before it is gone. See.” He said showing him the checkbook and where the sequence of numbers hadn’t lined up.

“Well who the fuck stole a company check then aye? Only three people know the code and that’s you, Polly, and Y/N.” He said, his heart aching at the thought of her doing something like that when he already paid her more than she’d expected.

“You want me to call a meeting?” Michael asked, rubbing a tired hand over his face.

“Yeah. Whoever did that probably knows about Arthur.” He said, his suspicion growing from last nights events.

“What’s wrong?” Polly asked as they all sat around the large table in the betting room.

“I have reasons to suspect someone has stolen a check from the company. Maybe used it to pay off someone perhaps.” He said, his eyes darting to everyone. Linda looked tired and Arthur sat near her with a pained expression.

“Would any one of you happen to know who it was? It was recent.” He said, placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. The smoke filling the room almost as heavily as the tension.

“It wasn’t Michael or I.” Polly said, shaking her head.

“Y/N...do you know anything about this?” Thomas asked, his eyes much more serious than last night. They were frightening in the way they bore into her soul despite her not knowing what was going on.

“No. I haven’t got a clue Tommy.” She said, holding his gaze as her heart raced.

“Linda...you were also here last night. Do you know?” He asked looking at her with the same calculating eyes.

“No. All I remember is I stepped out for a moment to send off one of your letters and to catch some air before you all arrived.” She said.

“And Y/N was the only one at the shop during that time?” He asked.

“Yes.” She said, her eyes squinting slightly at the poor woman who hadn’t done a thing wrong the whole time she’d been there.

“Look, Tommy I-“ Y/N started to say before he interrupted her in a harsh tone.

“I don’t know why you stole it, but somehow my brother was shot the same night and you were the last person I saw in the shop. You were also the only person there while Linda was away. I have no other choice but to fire you, Y/N. Get your things and go.” He said. Y/N’s face paled and her eyes brimmed with tears as she silently left the room. She averted her gaze from everyone, instead looking at the floor as she packed her things and went out the door, thinking she’d never return to the shop again.

She tried to defend herself somewhat, knowing she didn’t have anything to do with what happened. But none of her words would speak sense into him right now. He was too quick to make judgements, but she wasn’t prepared for him to hurt her like he just did. She felt her body trembling and growing warmer as she slammed her car door shut, the sheer embarrassment and anger rising in her as she made her way home.

As the day drug on, Thomas searched with Michael for the check, calling post offices and banks to see where it could have been sent and who had written it.

“It was picked up this morning Mr. Shelby. Doesn’t look like your handwriting though. I’ll have it sent to you. You caught it just in time.” The woman said, glancing at the writing on the envelope.

“Alright, thank you ma’am.” He said before hanging up.

“What’d they say aye?” Arthur asked, wincing as he moved about in his chair.

“They’re sending it back. It was almost sent out so we caught it just in time. She mentioned it wasn’t my handwriting.” He said, lighting a cigarette.

“Christ. What’d Linda say aye? Did her letter get sent out? She said it was for a charity.” Arthur asked, remembering she mentioned a letter.

“I’ve never written one to any charities, not recently.” Thomas said as his eyes narrowed.

“What...do you think...Linda stole the check?” Arthur asked quietly, knowing she was right around the corner.

“It’s possible. I know she’s your wife and all but she hasn’t exactly been helpful around here lately. Also it’s not adding up.” He said, his mind racing as he thought about the meeting.

“Christ....so you think she wrote the letter and the check then? They would’ve found the letter.” Arthur said.

“Aye, I think the letter was a ruse. The woman from the post office never found a letter from us. Just the check.” He said.

“Well let’s fookin’ ask her then. I can’t sleep at night knowing me wife’s trying to kill me.” Arthur said, a bit of panic in his voice as he realized she may have put a hit on him.

Over the next hour Thomas and him discussed the possibility of it being her, or it being Y/N. But now all signs were pointing to the short-haired blonde woman who not only had a knack for stealing hearts, but for stealing checks as well as, the mailman handed Thomas the envelope that had cursive handwriting on it. Inside contained a check and a terribly forged signature, along with her distinctive handwriting. Thomas couldn’t help but look out into the evening sky as he realized he’d made the wrong decision once again.

Linda heard her name being called as Thomas stood out his office door after retrieving the mail, the tension in the air seeming to rise as she reluctantly made her way to him.

“I have something to discuss with you and Arthur.” He said, ushering her into his office.

He locked the door behind her and stood in front of it as Linda sat by her husband. His tone more hostile than it had been at the family meeting earlier.

“So Linda...I’ll ask this once again. Did you steal the check?”

Linda looked around the room nervously as Arthur carefully got up and moved towards the door, officially wary of the woman.

Seeing as she had no way out, she sighed. Kissing the dream of running off with her lover goodbye as she knew how this interrogation could go.

“Y-yes I stole the combination from Y/N and snuck in the safe. The check was...to a man.” She said.

“Well it wasn’t to me. Who the fuck was it made out to?” Arthur asked, clinching his fists.

Linda stared at him blankly as a tear fell down her cheek.

“A man named Isaac. He was in-in that gang. I....I’ve been seeing him.” She said, wiping the tears from her eyes as he stalked forward.

“You fookin’ what?.... No...You don’t just put a hit out on a Shelby. Especially not on your own fucking husband.” He said angrily as Thomas put a firm hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“I did though, Arthur. I wanted to run off with him. I wanted you gone so it would be easier for me to leave. But I can’t do that now.” She said.

“So you knew I’d be walking into a death trap aye? You could’ve gotten more than me killed.” He spat, leaning against the door.

Linda nodded as she tore her gaze from the man she once thought she loved, guilt and anger taking over as she stood up.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Thomas said, watching her reach for the gun on his desk.

“I just want to leave this place.” She said looking at the gun in her hand as she raised it at Thomas.

“If you shoot us, it’ll make it harder to leave. Put the gun down.” He said sternly.

With a sigh, she lowered the gun and placed it on the table. Wiping her tears away with shaking hands as she walked to the door and stared at Arthur angrily. His hurt expression at her confession barely phasing her.

“Arthur...” She said, trying to grab his hand from the doorknob. With a quick movement he gripped her wrist tightly before speaking.

“Fuck you Linda. I’m glad you failed.” He said with a slightly evil smirk.

“What do you mean? He got the check.” She said, not noticing the post had sent it back.

“We got the check and saw it was in your handwriting...we also killed him after he shot me. He won’t need you where he’s going. On the bright side...now you can suffer alone.” He said, as Linda looked angrily at him. Tears streaming down her face silently as he let go of her wrist.

“Linda.” Thomas said, causing her to rip her gaze from her now ex-husband.

“You should get your things together. You’re fired.” He said.

“You can’t do that! What will I do about money? The house?” She asked.

“You should’ve thought about that before you tried to hire someone to kill my brother. Now go.” He said lighting a cigarette and pointing her out the door.

With one last glance, she ran out of the office. The commotion of her gathering all her things making the rest of the company look around nervously as she did a walk of shame out the door with her stuff. Shoving it all in her car and vowing to never come back.

As the company got back to work for the evening, Thomas quickly ran out too, barely uttering a goodbye to Polly before leaving.

“Where are you going at this hour?” She asked, looking up from her papers.

“I made a mistake Pol.” He said.

“I’m not surprised.” She said.

“Excuse me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“At least get the balls to tell her you’re sorry and that ya like her. Maybe bring her some flowers. We could all see it you know.” She said as he rubbed the back of his neck impatiently.

“Anything else to add Pol?” He asked.

“Don’t fire her again. She’s the one good thing that’s happened to this goddamned company.” She said as he nodded and went towards her flat.

When he arrived with flowers in hand, he didn’t expect to see her in such a state. Her eyes were red and puffy like she’d been crying. And her hair was unkept as she held a bottle of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

“Why the fuck are you here aye?” She asked, slightly slurring her words.

“It was Linda....Y/N. All along it was her. She didn’t mail a letter, she mailed a check. And that check almost got Arthur killed. I’m uh...sorry for all I did back there.” He said.

“What...did you bring me flowers to cheer me up? Fuck off.” She said before trying to shut the door.

“Wait.” He said, holding his free hand out to hold the door.

“I came here for three reasons alright?” He said.

“Well get to talking because it’s cold.” She said, throwing her cigarette over the steps into the damp ground.

“Alright...I wanted to apologize because I know what I did and you didn’t deserve that. And I wanted to offer you your job back.” He said.

“What’s the third aye? I may be tipsy but I can still count.” She said.

“That I like you. I know I’ve been a real bastard recently but I swear I do.” He said.

“What do you say aye?” He asked, holding the flowers out to her.

“Next time buy me roses. And...I’ll accept your offer, but it’s only because I like you too. Now are we going to stand around here all night or are you coming in?” She asked with a slight smirk.

He smiled for what seemed like the first time in forever, taking his cap off as she grabbed the flowers from him. Leading him inside where they would later spend the rest of the night and many other nights to come.

Thomas Shelby Tag List:

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy,@dreamwastakenx, @lovemissyhoneybee @thomashelbyswhore @xxbeckybeexx-blog

If you’d like to be added/removed just send me an ask/message! :)

[dracoladon]

oh my god I absolutely ADORED lucid and born slippy, so the chance to prompt you with something is so so exciting!! as always, no pressure, but how about something about undressing each other? i've always LOVED the unlacing/undressing tropes in capri, and I bet it would be incredible applied to some lovely drarry. do with this what you wish!!!

sidjdjfnndkff thank you, and thank u again for this ungodly prompt. if there’s three things i love, they’re captive prince, drarry, and soft smutty tropes such as the one u hath so kindly bestowed upon me.

i accidentally made a fair few lucid references in here (prizes for all who can spot them, the prize is a poem about u as composed by me) so i suppose, if you’ve read that one and so wish, u can consider this part of the same universe. or smth ://

maybe i’m just hideously unimaginative when it comes to topics for my banter. anywho

rated e, 1732 words.

The thing about Draco’s work robes, is that they’re buttoned all the way up to the throat. Which, hm, doesn’t sound like an issue in and of itself. But becomes one, of sorts, when Harry is overcome by the need to unbutton them every time he lays eyes on pale, elegant throat, the column of it under stiff black fabric. 

The thing is, that Draco looks so austere, so tightly laced, and the thing. Is. That Harry just wants to unlace him. 

Draco is, of course, not austere. He’s in fact very, erm, flexible. Pliant. He told Harry once, when they first starting fucking, that his body reformed around Harry’s, and he liked the way he went malleable in Harry’s hands. 

“I can’t do that with anyone else,” Draco said. Then frowned. “That didn’t make much sense.”

But the buttons. The buttons. The high-necked buttons. They give Draco a look of frigidity, that he’s not to be spoken to, touched (all in a very sexy, aristocratic kind of way, of course), and it’s so bloody hot that Harry’s taken to banishing his glasses and burying his head under a pillow when Draco dresses in the mornings, just to stop himself getting so hard he goes properly blind with it. 

Draco asked him, the third time he burrowed under the bedclothes like a “demented ferret” (glass houses, Harry said), what he was doing. 

“The buttons,” Harry murmured. “Want to undo them.”

“The buttons?”

“The buttons.”

“You sick, kinky twist, Harry Potter.”

Harry unearthed himself, at that. “Shut up? It’s not about the buttons, you horror. It’s about what’s underneath the buttons.”

“How touching.”

And then more teasing, and Harry had it up to here and said, “I’ll burrow again.”

So Draco sat next to him on the bed, robes all secured, and said, softly, but still smiling like a git, “Tell me, love. Why the buttons?”

“You’re just—they’re, you know. So—God,” and then Harry had reached out and rent the sides of Draco’s robes apart, the little cloth covered studs clattering over his polished walnut floors, and pulled Draco down on top of him, and fucked him right there until Draco was late for work, and later still because they’d had to spend half an hour charming the wretched things back into place. 

Now, Draco says, “the buttons are still wonky from that little stunt you pulled.”

Harry can see only Draco’s legs (crossed over each other on the couch, back flat on the ground, because Draco feels it centres him to drape upended from the furniture at the end of a long day) from where he’s decanting the wine in the kitchen. “I’ve always been pants at tailoring charms.”

“Was that a pun?” says Draco, sounding pained. “I’m leaving you, if that was a pun.”

“But then who will do your bidding? Aerate your wine, iron your silk pants—”

“I’ll get a house elf.”

“—not finished, suck your brains out your cock, make you pasta with butter and cheese when it’s cold and you’re in a mood—”

“I’ll get a gigolo, too.”

“I still wasn’t finished,” Harry says, and Levitates the wine into the living room in front of him.

Draco says, “did you get the right glasses, this time?”

“You’re very funny,” Harry says, because after months of trying to educate Harry, Draco has finally accepted that his one true love is cheap beer, and sorted all the wine glasses he keeps at Harry’s flat into labelled little boxes. (‘This is a coupe, Potter. If you bring me red wine in it again, I’ll throw it at you.’ ‘These are for dessert wine — after dinner, before a good hard boffing.’)

“Why don’t you just go snag one of those fucking — sommiliars.”

“Sommelier.” 

“Yeah,” Harry says, happy because Draco’s wearing his work robes and speaking French and looking all twisty, and it’s Friday night, and there’s wine and music from the record Draco put on, and Harry gets to untwist him.

“Did you know,” Draco says, arching his back into a luxurious stretch before rearranging himself right side up and plucking a glass from the air, “that Amantea is starting her own firm.”

“God. Really?”

“Quite. It’s a pro bono thing, evidently. You know she’s been on the exec’s for months about how they direct all their mandatory hours towards corporations, not, you know, people who actually can’t afford legal counsel.”

“‘Course.” Harry distinctly remembers being cornered by Amantea when Draco brought him along to last year's Christmas drinks — he was a decent few in, and Draco kept palming at him through his formal robes when no one was looking, and he thinks he may have agreed to some kind of public crusade in the name of her cause that he doesn’t remember the details of to this day.

“Merlin, that’s incredible. She’s just quit, then? Starting it from the ground up?” 

Draco nods, sips his wine. “She asked me to come with her. Ford, too.” And then, into his glass, “Said yes.” 

Harry chokes, and Draco smirks at him behind the rim while he expires into his Pinot. “Bastard,” Harry coughs.

“Mm,” Draco hums. 

“That’s—fuck, hang on—that’s great, love. Draco, it’s brilliant.”

“Really?” Draco says, tangling his fingers in Harry’s. He can see now that he’s doing that Very Draco Thing where his eyes go a bit too wide and his tongue keeps darting out to wet his bottom lip. “Cause I haven’t quit yet.” 

“Of course. I think it’s really, really incredible.”

Draco rolls his eyes, but his cheeks flush pink. “Any more of that, and I won’t go near your cock for a week.” 

“I’m proud of you,” Harry says, smiling. 

“Two weeks.”

He leans on his haunches, hooks a blond tendril behind Draco’s ear. “I’m so proud of you, Draco. Everything you are.”

“A month. A year! Harry,” Draco complains.  

Harry snorts. Sits back. “Fine. So would you still be doing all the same work?”

Draco nods. “I’d still be a defence counsel. I’d just be, you know. Not getting paid. At least, not for a while.”

“Good,” Harry says. “We’ve got a horrific amount of money, between the two of us.” 

“I’m glad you think so, because we’ll be living off your salary alone. What’s the going rate for darling of the Wizarding world?”

Harry walks his fingers over Draco’s knee, daubed in the heavy black wool of his robes. “Several million a year darling. Are you excited, then?”

Draco shuffles around so he can rest his back against the couch, keeping Harry’s palm pressed to his knee with his own hand as he moves. “Yes. Very. I love my job, but the fees they charge our time at are outrageous. I was always thinking, Mother and I wouldn’t have been able to afford that right after the war. Had we even been allowed a solicitor, but don’t get me bloody started.”

Harry thinks that’s Draco down to his bones. He gives cold little glares to people he doesn’t want to talk to, and shrinks in on himself like a turtle whenever Molly tries to hug him at Sunday lunch, and he’s selfish about stupid things, like letting Ron have the last of his chips at pub night. 

And then he does things like drop lunch by Hermione’s office when he has afternoon meetings with the Wizengamot, or quit the job he loves so much, where he’s finally respected and secure, to work for free with Scary Amantea because he actually cares about the abysmal state of the Wizarding justice system, or rent out an entire Muggle theme park for Harry’s birthday, because he’d said, off handed, one night in Draco’s arms, that he’d always been left behind when the Dursley’s took Dudley as a child. 

“You’re so nice,” Harry says. 

Draco frowns. “Take it back.” 

Harry says, “Won’t,” and gives him a good, slow kiss that tastes like wine. Wine from a proper glass. 

“I have bad news, too,” Draco says into Harry’s lips. 

Harry can’t think of how anything could be bad, wrong, when Draco’s mouth is so soft and so close, but he murmurs, “What,” anyway. 

“No dress code, at the new firm.” 

Harry pulls back, stricken. “No more buttons?”

“Less regular buttons,” Draco amends, and Harry places a protective hand over Draco’s clavicles.  

“This is completely tragic,” Harry says. 

“Dare I say, Potter, you’ll just have to make the most of them. While you can.”

Harry nods, leans down again, a hand either side of Draco’s hips, and kisses him again. 

When he pulls back, it’s so he can get his hands on the reeling column of buttons that runs from Draco’s navel to his Adam’s apple. 

There was a certain carnal appeal in tearing them off him that first time, but now Harry likes this. His hands on Draco, his mouth following. Pushing the silken studs through the loops, undressing Draco inch by milk white inch. 

“Yes,” Draco says, as Harry licks and nips his way down every bit of skin he exposes. When Draco swallows, Harry feels the movement of it roll beneath his palm. When Draco’s legs fall open, Harry mouths at his hip bone as it shifts under his tongue. 

Harry disrobes himself with slightly less worshipping finesse. Pushes the tailored cloth off Draco’s shoulders, helps him arrange himself underneath Harry, ankles clasped lazily at his back. Fucks him slow, and sweet, and two more times. 

Really, Harry doesn’t know why the robes do it for him so utterly and completely. They look kind of like the type of thing a vicar would wear, which is also what Harry remembers thinking when he saw Draco in his dress robes at the Yule Ball (although now it’s more a very rich, very sleek sort of vicar vibe, and less of the fusty, I-took-a-celibacy-oath-at-thirteen-and-am- now-seventy-two thing he had going back then. With all the velvet. Draco looks much better in silk. Anyway.)    

On that, it’s probably because it’s a reminder that it’s Malfoy who he’s with. Malfoy, not Death Eater, tormentor, but pale limbs, plush, pink mouth and naked vulnerability before him. It’s how far they’ve both come, and how Draco presents himself to the world — so far away from what Harry gets to see. What’s Harry’s. What’s theirs. 

“Also,” Draco says, when Harry tells him this in bed that night, “I look positively indecent in black.”

[seriouslysnape]

Could you write Sev taking the woman he’s been in love with for months on a first date in London, and he goes all out for it? Like he even went out and bought muggle clothes to blend in and he’s planned out the whole night. He’s of course nervous af but at the end of the night, he finally kisses her.

Also, your writing is so fucking good! Can’t wait for more!

THANK YOU. This is an amazing prompt. I had so much fun with this one! 

Here ya go! :) (Below the cut!)

A New Beginning

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Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: None.

A/N: Quick self promo - for all my Wattpad readers, I have a Severus Snape x Reader story that is currently in the works! Please note, it has been a long time since I’ve written a continuous story so my skills are a little rusty. The first 11 chapters are up now and I update frequently. The title is “The Assistant” and my Wattpad username is @ hufflehotch (great username, I know). If you’re interested, feel free to give it a read! I encourage comments (on any of my works) because I always like to hear feedback!

Word Count: 2,000

“Not at all...but you look too much like a wizard,”

__

Severus Snape: firm, collected, cold, stoic, urgent. These are just a few words that would come to mind when describing the half-blood prince. He kept his guard up at all times. He infrequently allowed others to get too close to him. He kept his heart, his mind, and his feelings protected by having a hard exterior that no one could crack. He never wanted to feel the pain of a heartbreak again. He didn’t think he’d ever find love again.

That was before he met you.

The moment he laid his eyes on you, he knew he was in trouble. He knew the unmistakable skip in his chest all too well when his gaze found yours. He denied it at first. He didn’t dare get near you or engage in conversation for fear of falling for you. However, he found himself constantly in your presence and constantly trying to get away. He didn’t want to hurt your feelings in any way, for you hadn’t done anything wrong. You were so kind to him in the interactions you did have that he felt guilty for pushing you away. Eventually, he gave in. Once he did finally give in, he slowly felt the icy, cold block around his heart begin to melt away.

He began to change quickly. Suddenly, he looked forward to waking up every morning to have a conversation with you over a cup of coffee or tea. He was less stern in all of his Potions classes and actually offered his more pleasant teaching abilities (which had caused a bit of a puzzled stir amongst his students). He found himself enjoying his life again. He wasn’t just existing anymore.

The longer he was around you and the more he got to know you, the more difficult it became to ignore his feelings. He had undeniably fallen in love with you and he couldn’t wait any longer.

He was relieved when you happily agreed to go on a date with him. As exciting as it was, a new sense of nervousness began to creep over him. It had been a long, long time since he had been on a date (if he had even ever been on what was considered a real date). What would you two do? What should he wear? Should he bring flowers? He had a million things he had to work out, and he wanted to make it perfect.

He didn’t want to miss this chance.

He was so desperate to make it perfect that he even invested in some outside help. It wasn’t a super well known fact, but Professor Remus Lupin was a pure romantic. He knew all the ins and outs of how to have a nice date, so he was more than willing to give his colleague some tips. Keep it simple, but sweet.

The day came around and Severus felt like he was walking on pins and needles all day. He could barely get through his Friday classes because he was so overwhelmed with nerves and anticipation.

He had decided on taking you to London. The beautiful Muggle city with endless shops and restaurants to entertain even the most high maintenance of people. Usually, he wouldn’t be too keen on blending with the Muggle world, but you were a dazzling woman who deserved an even more stunning place for a date.

He had to prepare in advance for this. He had to purchase clothes that wouldn’t totally give away that he was an expertly trained wizard. He felt strange being in such foreign clothes, but (even though he’d never admit it) it was nice to wear something other than his black robes.

The white collared shirt was finely fitted over his frame, along with the tan pants and shoes to accompany it. He looked handsome and more put together than he had been in a while. He had even taken the time to keep his long hair from being completely out of control. He had taken a few more moments to ease his nerves. His hands were shaking profusely. He did NOT want to mess this up.

He managed to settle himself enough to where he wasn’t completely frazzled. He took a deep breath and went on his way to pick you up. He was confident. He had this under control.

That was, until he saw you.

All the butterflies in his belly and the rosy heat in his cheeks all came crashing back over him when he saw you clad in a Muggle style sweater and jeans. You looked so perfect that he wasn’t sure you were real.

“Severus,” You greeted with a friendly smile; “I have to say, I never thought I’d see the day where you were dressed in something other than your robes.”

Severus suddenly felt self conscious. Had he gone a little overboard with his attire?

“Is it...too much?” He asked as casually as possible.

Your smile faded into a reassuring expression. It was your turn to get butterflies now that you were really looking at him. You carefully reached for the collar of his shirt. He had buttoned it all the way to the top, just below his neck. You unbuttoned the first few buttons and adjusted his collar.

“Not at all...but you look too much like a wizard,” You explained; “Muggles usually are much more laid back.” You noted.

The tips of Severus’ ears went beet red at the feel of your fingertips just barely brushing against the skin of his neck. He was grateful that his hair kept them hidden. You were so close that he could smell your perfume. It was heavenly and accented you well. He racked his brain of something to say.

“You look terrific.” He complimented.

A certain glow dusted your cheeks. You smiled sheepishly at his words and thanked him. After a few more attire adjustments, you were well on your way into London with the help of a little magic. Severus had forgotten just how amazing London really was. He had a bit of a soft spot for the city.

He had the entire evening planned out in his head. He figured dinner would be first. There was a quaint, yet elegant place that he knew about and had been to a few times before. After that, he thought that St. James Park would be a nice place to wind down for the evening. St. James was likely one of London’s most famous parks, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be super crowded.

The two of you strolled side by side through the streets of London, casually conversing about the things they usually did. Potions, professional Quidditch, Hogwarts in general. At one point, your hand brushed against his as you drew nearer to your first destination. Before he could comprehend it, your hand had entwined in his. He slightly squeezed your hand in surprise, to which you squeezed back lightly with a grin.

Dinner was wonderful. Severus was so antsy and jittery that he could barely sit still longer than a few minutes. His leg bounced nervously under the table and his fingers drummed on the white tablecloth. You kept catching him staring longingly at you. He just couldn’t believe that he had finally caught this moment with you.

“Severus, it’s just me,” You said sweetly, hiding a knowing smirk from behind the rim of your wine glass; “We’ve had dinner together plenty of times.”

That seemed to settle him once more. His tense shoulders suddenly released and he let out an uptight breath. You were right. He didn’t need to try to outdo himself.

“I know. You’re just so beautiful,” He spoke softly, feeling confident again; “[Y/N], I lov-”

His sudden confession was cut off when the waiter approached with your respective meals. Severus thanked his lucky stars for that. He knew now wasn’t the right time yet. A busy restaurant with a bunch of people around wasn’t how he wanted it to go. He wanted to wait for the right moment. He just hoped he’d know it when he saw it.

After dinner, you led him back into the streets of London, still hand in hand. It was well past nightfall by now, the city lights had created a bubble of illumination over the immediate area. You were all over the idea of going to the park before it closed, considering it was your favorite place in the city. It turned out that Severus’ suspicions were correct. The park was shockingly empty for a Friday night. The two of you walked on the dimly lit walkways, soaking up every second.

Maybe it was his sudden serenity and content aura, but the two of you suddenly fell into a conversation that was something other than work related. He didn’t know it yet, but the walls that he had spent so much of his energy on building were quickly tumbling down. He was sharing details of his life that he never thought he’d bring to light again. You weren’t surprised to hear that his childhood had been less than gratifying.

“You didn’t like Hogwarts?” You questioned after hearing that he had a bad experience with the school.

“Well, I was skilled when it came to my classes. I enjoyed learning about the wizarding world, but I was the runt of the litter I suppose. I wasn’t well liked.”He told you, who was on edge with interest; “I didn’t have a single friend. That was until...”

He let himself trail off. He refused to finish the thought.

No. For once, this wasn’t about Lily. He wasn’t mourning over something that was never reality. He wasn’t going to let his life be dictated by one wish that never came true for him. When the time was right, he’d tell you about Lily. You deserved to know when that day came. But it wasn’t about her anymore.

It was about you.

Before you could urge him to finish his sentence, he had stopped your walk just over a small bridge. He held your hands in front of him, his thumbs stroking your supple skin on the back of your hand. His nerves had completely fizzled away now. He knew he was right where he was supposed to be. Right now, this moment was the only thing that mattered in the world.

Your tender eyes looked into his. He had a sight deep within his dark eyes that you couldn’t identify. Had he always looked at you this way? It was such an extensive adoration that it made you weak in the knees. The moon was full in the black, inky sky that was sprinkled with twinkling stars. The moon was cascading a crisp, dull light over the both of you.

This was almost too flawless.

“[Y/N], I’m having a difficult time finding the right words to say.” He admitted, his voice thick with depth.

You took a half step to press yourself against him, allowing this to happen the way it needed to.

“Then show me.” You breathed, bracing for what was inevitably about to happen.

That’s when he kissed you. It was a passionate, temperate kiss that was just borderline needy. It sent waves of emotion over both of you that was too complex to understand. The rest of Severus’ walls were crumbled now. He was vulnerable and open again. It was a huge pressure off of him.

You pulled away from each other just slightly, your lips just hardly touching. You didn’t want to stop touching him. Your hands traveled and rested on his shoulders, his hands on your waist.

“I love you.” He finally declared.

It was like the floodgates had opened. The contents of his heart were spilling all within himself. He could love again.

“Oh, Severus...I love you.” You returned.

Instantly, you kissed again. His new refreshing outlook was very clear in his demeanor. It was the perfect way to end the perfect night.

It was a perfect new beginning.

[bipercabeth]

hi miss emmaaa you know i adore every single word you write—you are simply unparalleled😌. if you have time “i need a hug”, “i have an idea”, and “it’s freezing in here” for the prompt cocktail please :)🤍

i swear i could KISS you for this prompt. i’ve been kicking myself for not writing an “our shitty radiator is broken oh no we have to huddle for warmth” scene for roommates for months. didn’t fit in the fic itself, so here it is <3 

(takes place between new year’s and the blowup with sloan)

Annabeth tugs yet another sweatshirt over her head and throws herself back into bed. Stupid fucking radiator. Stupid landlord. Stupid New York City for being so stupidly cold. Despite the heavy comforter, fuzzy socks, and layered clothes, she’s still shivering. For a brief moment, she considers bundling up in Percy’s bed—if only to escape the cold creeping in from her window—when she hears the unmistakable jingle of his keys in the lock. 

She throws peels off the covers and winces as the air bites at her exposed skin. With her hands shoved in her pockets, Annabeth trudges to the kitchen where Percy shuffles around with groceries. He’s as gorgeous today as ever, sporting a coat over a blue sweater his mom knitted him and the usual jeans and sneakers. It shouldn’t be enough with how cold it is outside, but he appears infuriatingly unbothered.

“God, it’s freezing in here,” he says in way of greeting. His voice echoes in the cabinet as he puts away cans of soup, taking full advantage of his long limbs to reach the top shelf. Then he turns, and his grimace becomes something softer, bringing just a bit of warmth into the apartment. His eyes flit over Annabeth’s lumpy frame with a gleam. “But I’m guessing you knew that.” 

“Have I ever told you that you’re one of the most obnoxious New Yorkers I’ve ever met?” 

Percy smiles and reaches for something on the table. “Even when I walk four blocks out of my way to grab you hot chocolate from the best truck in town? You should appreciate my pretentiousness, Annabeth. I could’ve picked up that watered down monstrosity you sell at Starbucks.” 

“Have I mentioned that you’re also my best friend and the light of my life?” Annabeth reaches for the cup, her pulse throbbing in her freezing fingers. 

A rueful smile spreads over Percy’s face as he raises the cup out of her reach. “I’m sorry, am I obnoxious or the light of your life?” 

“Light of my life,” she grunts as she presses onto her toes. 

“Do try to sound more convincing.” 

She lays her hand on his chest. “Percy Jackson, you are the light of my life and the best person I know. You have brought the elixir of the gods into our humble home. Please save me and my old bones from the cold that has descended upon—” 

Percy laughs and shoves the cup at Annabeth. Warmth floods her hand, both from the drink and the brush of his skin. “Better?” 

Her response comes in the way of gulping the hot chocolate. It’s meant to be savored, obviously, but Annabeth has been too cold to do much of anything today, and her body just kind of takes over and downs it. 

Horror is written all over Percy’s face when she finishes mere moments later. “Oh my god, you’re a monster.” 

“Thank you.” 

“That wasn’t a compliment.” 

“Then why are you smiling?” she counters. And it’s true—there’s an endeared uptick to the corner of his mouth, even if it’s currently open in dismay. “Is there something on my face?” 

“No, I—” He shakes his head a little. “Just. Your nose is pink. How long ago did the radiator give up on you?” 

“Right after you left this morning.” 

Percy’s eyes dart to where the city lights twinkle against the night sky, almost like stars. Annabeth watches him count the hours in his head before he unbuttons his coat. “C’mere.” 

All too eager, Annabeth knocks into his chest and sighs when he brings the coat tight around her shoulders like the best burrito. Her arms snake around his waist and slip under his sweater, relentlessly seeking warmth. 

He jolts like she’s shocked him, pressing away from her hands and closer to her body. It’s a win-win, really. 

“You’re a monster,” he hisses. 

She hides her smile in the sweater. “What? I need a hug.” 

“I will kill you in your sleep.” 

In way of retaliation, she shoves her icy nose into his neck. 

“Okay!” Percy frees himself of her iron grip. “I have a better idea.” 

He palms her face, smushing her nose with a laugh that’s a bit too smug for Annabeth’s liking. She smacks away his hand, but he catches the strings of her hoodie and pulls them tight, trapping her in darkness. Normally this would mean war, but it’s been a long day. Loneliness seeped into Annabeth’s bones alongside the cold, as is the cruel trick of winter, and she finds that all she really wants it to be held. Of course, this only serves as a reminder that she cannot be held by the one person she wants in that capacity, which is worsened by the fact that he is right in front of her and willing to do it if she asks the right way.

Ever intuitive, Percy’s smile gives way to a concerned frown, the one that makes Annabeth want to roll her eyes and kiss him at the same time. Still, it takes no thought to slip their hands together when he offers. 

Warmth immediately envelopes Annabeth’s fingers, traveling up her nerves lazily. Its pace quickens when Percy raises them to his mouth, his lips pressed against her pinky and ring fingers as he blows hot air. Annabeth hums, somehow both content and absolutely on fire. At least her face was already red.

Later Percy has changed into comfier clothes and lounges on the couch, one leg thrown over the back while Annabeth balls up under a blanket on the other side. One of his arms is behind his head, dragging the sweater away from the waistline of his sweatpants. It’s ridiculous, honestly, that Annabeth can see him in a speedo for three days straight and survive, but this sliver of skin undoes her. Maybe it’s the intimacy of being at home. There is no crowd, no frigid metal bleachers, and Annabeth isn’t sitting next to Percy’s mom while trying to hide her oogling. There is only the soft cushion of the couch and the warmth emanating from Percy, who is close enough to touch.

God, she wants to touch.

He clears his throat. “So are you proving a point by freezing alone, or are you gonna come over here?”

Annabeth wrenches her gaze up to meet Percy’s, which is alight with the kind of amusement that makes this whole thing feel like a game to see who will break first. It’s the closest they come to acknowledging this unspoken thing between them.

All she can do is stare until Percy holds out his hand. She doesn’t know what assumptions he makes, but he makes no move to embarrass her, so they must be kind. Instead he coaxes her across the couch, laying back and smiling when Annabeth knocks the air out of his chest.

He pulls the blanket up her back and anchors it with his arm. “Better?”

Annabeth thaws enough to nod against his sweater. “Better.”

Percy slips his hand under Annabeth’s hood and settles it in the curve of her neck, his fingertips drawing small circles against her scalp. It hurts, how well he fits there. He feels made for all of her empty spaces, like the universe knew Annabeth would someday need to be held this way and crafted Percy specifically for it.

For now, he keeps the lonely grip of winter at bay. And for once in her life, Annabeth is not thinking about how cold it will be when he lets go. Letting go doesn’t even cross her mind.

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

I hear you like prompts? Well I am well known for. The List. *unrolls scroll* sick fic, jealousy, fighting suitors, hostage situation, hypothermia, use of safe word, spa day, ruddiger v Hugo

AO3

It’s midday by the time Hugo finally deems his companions worthy of his company.

They’ve been staying at a small estate in Galcrest, with some friends of Nuru’s family who were kind enough to put them up for the weekend.

The last few trials have been grueling--if Varian’s being completely honest--what with the cave of mirrors and the hall of memories haunting Nuru’s nights and Yong’s smiles and Varian’s everything. So a break in what their gang was affectionately nicknaming “the air kingdom” seemed in order.

The first few days go by fine--Nuru drags Hugo out to the marketplace, talking shop about swords and armory to her heart's content, while Varian and Yong scour the countryside and set off fireworks in the clear skies.

It’s exactly what their group needs to get back on track--a little rest and a lot of free time to relax and get to know one another better.

Then Hugo shows up for breakfast one morning and all of Varians’ optimism flies out the window.

“Whoa, are you sick?” Yong says, popping his head out of the pantry. “You look terrible.”

Hugo sends him an irritated glance. “No,” he says and then immediately sneezes. “I’m not sick,” he says, peevishly when they all continue staring at him in silence. His voice sounds like he’s been gargling rocks.

Nuru places a hand on his flushed forehead that he immediately swats off. “You’re burning up,” she says with a frown. “Did you leave your window open last night?”

“More likely that he got it from town,” Varian mutters. He seems to remember a kindly merchant lamenting about his daughter coming down with a spring cold. Dammit Hugo.

“I’m going to heat up some soup,” Yong says decisively, already making a bee-line for the cupboards.

“I don’t need soup.” Hugo literally cannot sound any more like a sulky pre-teen right now. “What I need is for you all to stop ganging up on me.”

“What you need is a doctor,” Nuru mutters.

Hugo turns his scowl on her.

“How about this,” Varian says, once again playing diplomat between his two best friends, “Hugo eats the soup, and Nuru doesn’t make him see a doctor.

Hugo and Nuru continue to eye each other for a moment before Hugo mutters out an annoyed “fine.”

Varian has a feeling that today is going to be an exercise in not dumping his best friends.

____

About three hours into the “Hugo is pretending that he’s not sick” fiasco, Nuru has decided she’s had enough.

“I’m taking Yong to town,” she says, wrapping a scarf around the younger boy. “If the idiot won’t see a doctor, than I’m at least going to get him some medicine.”

Varian, who was the person who had to deal with Hugo throwing up in the bathroom half the afternoon, privately agrees.

“Is there anything I should do?” he asks, not exactly sure what to do with sick people. His dad never got sick and Rapunzel had about a million physicians taking care of her whenever she contracted some illness or another.

“Try and keep him in bed. I also left some tea leaves in the kitchen, if he feels up to drinking anything.” Nuru adds, halfway out the door. “I know you want to kill him most of the time, but it would be most inconvenient to hide his body.”

Varian rolls his eyes. “I’ll do my best,” he says, dryly.

He doesn’t actually plan to antagonize Hugo--let alone kill him. Despite the fact that the blond still manages to annoy him on a daily basis, he’s also kinda friends with the guy now.

They’ve fallen into an easy companionship with mutual banter and annoyed antics that usually have their friends up in arms, but it works for them.

Besides, the guy just looked far too pathetic, dry heaving in the sink this morning, to give him a hard time.

A few minutes after Nuru and Yong leave, Varian makes his way to the room Hugo is staying in. At first glance, the place appears empty--bed unmade, small sitting area absent of life--but after a quick scan of the large room, Varian finds him.

Hugo sits on the window seat. His legs are drawn up under him and his head rests against the wall. The breeze filtering through the open window brushes his hair back from his forehead and makes the open collar of his white, unbuttoned shirt, fluttering slightly.

Something about the sight of him--flushed, exhausted, unguarded--twists something in Varian’s stomach.

“Hey,” he says, voice cracking too loudly in the quiet.

Hugo doesn’t turn his head, but his shoulder inch up slightly. “Hey,” he says back, eyes glued to something outside the window.

Varians’ eyes narrow in on the gooseflesh raised on the skin of his neck. With a sigh, he snatches a blanket off the bed and goes to Hugo, draping it over his shoulders.

Hugo turns his head at that, blinking up at him owlishly through round glasses. “Oh,” he says, like he’s just noticing Varian’s here. Which is concerning. “Thanks.”

Varian shrugs a shoulder, throwing himself on the other side of the window seat. It’s a large enough space--or maybe Varian’s just short--for the two of them to sit without touching. Not that Varian’s thinking of touching him.

An uneasy silence--on Varian’s part, at least--falls over them as Hugo continues to stare blankly out the window. His usually brilliant green eyes are glazed over, enhancing the flush that’s spread from his face, down his to his neck.

He sniffs a couple of times, nose wrinkling.

“Nuru wants you to drink some tea, I think,” Varian says, tapping his fingers against his knee nervously. “I can go get some for you if you wa-”

“It’s fine.” Hugo’s voice carries no intonation. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Varian says, in a very measured voice. The last thing he wants to do is upset the guy right now.

Hugo’s eyes shut. His lips press together tightly, but not out of anger. He looks like he’s just barely holding it together, and Varian doesn’t understand why.

Or, maybe he does. Varian used to be very open and free with his emotions, but over the past few years--since everything in Corona with his dad, the amber, Cass--Varian has gotten used to putting up shields around his heart. Vulnerability was a very scary thing, especially with those you cared about.

Hugo didn’t seem to be the type of person who liked to show weakness.

A particularly chilling breeze brushes through the window. It’s enough that even Varian is shivering at it’s touch.

He reaches out slowly and gently pulls the blanket around Hugo tighter. Hugo’s eyes open at that, watching Varian with an unreadable emotion.

“I think you should lie down,” Varian says.

Hugo shakes his head. “Can’t.”

“Hugo-”

“The bed’s too soft,” Hugo exhales, sounding embarrassed.

Something in Varian’s stomach twists painfully. The year after prison hadn’t been easy, but most of it was just getting used to being able to walk around without having the entirety of Corona’s military breathing down your neck. The other half was getting used to how soft his threadbare bed in Olde Corona felt.

Varian gets it. He doesn’t know Hugo’s story yet, but he gets it.

“Lie down here then,” he coaxes, one hand coming up to cup his neck. It’s warm--too warm. The worry simmering in Varian’s gut flares.

“What, on you?” Hugo snorts, sounding--if for a moment--a bit like himself.

Varian feels his own face flush about as badly as Hugo’s face is right now. “Would it make you feel more comfortable?” he asks, voice pitching up high.

Hugo’s stares at him hazily, the fever most likely getting in the way of his higher processing powers. “Yeah,” he says, looking not quite all there. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

And then he flops face first into Varian’s lap.

Varian lets out a surprised laugh, one hand going to his hair. “Okay then,” he says, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

“Mmphf.”

Varian snorts, coaxing Hugo into rolling over so that he can at least breathe. “Why do I put up with you?” he mutters, more amused than exasperated for once.

Hugo blinks a couple of times at him. “It’s weird,” he says at last. “You’re weird. I’ve never had someone who’s wanted to put up with me before.”

Varian’s hopes Hugo can’t tell his heart just shattered into about a million pieces. “Well, you do now,” he says, easing Hugo’s glasses off his face and delicately placing them on the nearby end table. “You have three people, in fact, who are willing to put up with your dumb ass.”

The blond squints up at him. “But you were first. That’s-” he gestures gracelessly with one hand, “-that’s important.”

Varian smooths his hair back from his forehead, mentally taking note of the amount of heat coming off his flushed skin. “Yeah?”

“Mmm.” Hugo’s eyes close. “You keep doing that. Surprising me.”

“Well someone has to knock your ego down a few notches.”

A ghost of a grin. His eyes open again, almost as if he’s worried Varian has left in the few seconds he stopped looking.

“Hugo, go to sleep,” Varian chides. He runs his fingers through Hugo’s hair again, hoping it will draw him into sleep. “I can continue to surprise you tomorrow.”

“You’re surprising me now,” Hugo mumbles, but he’s becoming more and more pliant with each pet of Varian’s fingers through his hair. “Don’t go anywhere, ‘kay?”

Varian swallows. “I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promises. “Now go to sleep.”

Hugo’s eyes finally drop shut, breath evening out. Varian leans back against the wall, one hand in the blond’s hair. The weight of the other boy is both grounding and sends strange flutterings to Varian’s stomach that he doesn’t understand.

Hugo lets out a small snore in his sleep. It’s adorable. Hugo’s adorable, Varian realizes, much to his horror.

Another breezes brushes in through the window, setting the white, transparent curtains afloat in the air. Hugo shivers slightly, curling up closer around Varian.

His face is pressed somewhere between his thigh and stomach, one arm wrapped loosely around his torso. Varian runs his fingers through Hugo’s soft hair again and comes to two realizations simultaneously.

Varian has feelings for Hugo. Positive feelings. Fluffy, mushy, fluttering feelings that reside somewhere between his aching heart and the butterflies in his stomach and Varian wants to cry or throw up or maybe kiss the dumb blond until those feelings settle themselves.

Hugo might--a very, very tentative might, because Varian isn’t great at reading other people at the best of times--just might have feelings for Varian. Maybe.

That’s important, he had said, eyes glazed, pupils dilated, lips parted. You keep doing that. Surprising me.

Varian shuts his eyes. Yeah, he’s totally and utterly fucked.

[babbushka]

can you please please write a rough and filthy flip bit where you roleplay “chief zimmerman” and a detective who needs punished? Thank you and I love your work!!❤️🥰

Anonymous said: I’d love to request smut dialogue prompt 71 for our favorite detective please! I love sexy Flip action! Thank you 😘

(1.7k, NSFW: roleplay, dirty talk, mirror sex, PIV, choking, begging) 

Quietly, Flip closes the front door behind him. It’s cricket-hours out in the mountains of Colorado Springs where he bought his home, and even though it’s been years since you’ve gone to sleep without him home, he still thinks that if you had gone to sleep, he sure as shit doesn’t want to go waking you up.

Through the dark house he goes, up the stairs – avoiding the squeaky step and all – until he finds himself at the open door of his bedroom you share, where you’re lying in bed awake, reading a book donned only in your robe, by the glow of the bedside table lamp.

When you look up and see him smiling at you from the doorway, you can’t help but give him a cheeky smile back, a glimmer in your eye that tells Flip he’s in for something tonight.

“You’re late, detective.” You close your book and set it on the nightstand, crossing your arms over your chest. Flip hovers in the doorway, trying to guess what game this is that you want to play. There’s a couple different ones that you break out now and again, but he doesn’t have to guess for much longer, because you tap at your wrist on an imaginary watch and declare, “I told you to have that report finished by nine. And what time is it?”

“Nine-fifteen.” Flip lies. It’s much later than nine-fifteen, fuck what he would give if it were only nine-fifteen instead of the one-am that it actually is.

But he knows how to play this game, he wants to play this game, because he’s certain that tonight he’s going to win.

“And what are we going to do about that?” You challenge, still looking at him expectantly, waiting.

Flip shucks off his sherpa jacket, lets it sit on the dresser against the wall. He steps out of his boots, begins to unbutton the flannel that sits atop his ringer-tee.

“You could punish me.” He offers, although if you wanted to punish him for something, the bedroom would be set up a little bit differently than this.

“Do you want to be punished?” You watch him lazily as he unbuttons his jeans, pulls the tee over his head in that way that only guys ever seem to do, from the back instead of the front. You eye his firm solid stomach and lick your lips, “Or do you want to make it up to me?”

“Oh I’ll more than make it up to you, chief.”  Flip gives you a cocky grin, like he already knows he’s won, and you have half a mind to make him really work for it, but it’s one in the morning and you missed him too much to play too hard to get for too long.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” You bite at your grin, before reaching out to him with grabbing hands, wanting him close.

At once, Flip climbs up onto the bed and grabs at your ankles, drags you down the mattress as you laugh, breaking character just for a moment to cover your mouth and giggle. There’s a mirror affixed to the dresser, and he turns you to face it, kneeling behind you on the mattress, his hands already smoothing across your stomach, undoing the sash of your robe so that it falls away, showing off your tits.

"I’m gonna fuck you in front of the mirror,” Flip murmurs low in your ear, his hands rising up up up to cup and knead at your tits, voice deep and dark and gravelly as he continues, “I want you to see how pretty you look when you’re spreading your legs for me.”

Almost on instinct, your knees slide apart, and he presses his smirk into the crook of your neck.

“You think I’m pretty?” You bat your lashes at him through the reflection of the mirror, and one of Flip’s hands abandons your tits to go toy at your pussy gently, just enough to get you worked up.

“I think you’re the foxiest thing this side of the Rockies, ketsl.” He whispers, pleased to see how wet you are already, how badly you’ve been wanting him. “Let me show you, let me make you feel good.”

Nodding at him, you tip your head back so it rests on his shoulder, looking through your lashes in the mirror. You think it’s so fucking hot how you’re watching it, watching him pulls your hips into a position where he can push his cock through those slick folds and into your cunt, the both of you balancing on your knees on the mattress. One of your hands reaches behind you to tighten in Flip’s hair, as your mouth drops open from the feeling of being stuffed and stretched.

“Ohh, ah! Flip – ” You moan, eyelids fluttering shut as you let yourself sink further down onto his cock, until you can feel the head of it prodding up against your cervix in a way that’s halfway painful.

“Detective.” Flip kisses the corner of your mouth, because it’s the only thing he can reach from behind you like this, as he works to build up a steady rhythm, wanting to grab and grope you all over.

“Right, yes right, detective, oh fuck you’re good with that cock of yours huh? You whore yourself around to get out of trouble like this often? Fucking pretty women to get your way?” You babble, having missed him so much, saving up all these words for him to come home and listen to.

Flip pats at the side of your thigh, sucks on your earlobe as he rocks into you, grinds his hips up up up and down, thrusting hard enough that he can see your tits sway in the mirror.

“Only when the women are this pretty, and have pussies this nice and tight.” He growls in response.

Flip fucks you a little faster, and then a little faster still, until the mattress squeaks and groans underneath your knees. Flip wants to push you down onto your hands, but he can’t see it then, can’t see the way he fucks you so nice. So instead, he pulls your back flush against his chest, one of his hands hoisting your leg up for a deeper angle, the other clamping around your neck to keep you steady.

“Oh fuck, fuck, detective --!” You moan loud when he squeezes on the sides of your throat, restricts your air and gets you all lightheaded and dizzy.

The pleasure shivers through your body and you can’t help but shake rattle tremble sigh a little, moaning and groaning as he chokes you, fucks you harder and harder, keeps your eyes trained on yourself in the mirror.

“Watch ketsl, look, see how your cunt swallows my big dick down? Practically begging for it, aren’t you, slut? I bet you made me late on purpose so you’d get fucked, didn’t you?” He grunts, mean and harsh in your ear, and you melt, your knees wobbling, as he shoves his cock so far up into you that it lifts you up a little, knees coming off the mattress entirely.

“Mmmmmmmaybe.” You drool, out of your mind, gasping down air as he releases your throat, letting you breathe before clamping down again, his mouth on your ear.

“Can you feel how deep I am inside you? Feel me stretching you from the inside out? Gonna fuck you and ruin you for any other men, no one else will make you feel as good as me.” He whispers, his teeth grazing your earlobe, cock pounding into your pussy.

“Yeahyeah – yes, yes Flip!” You shout, and he doesn’t bother to correct you this time, because this time you’re coming all over his cock.

Releasing your throat, he covers your neck with kisses instead, gentle presses of his lips, long thick stripes of his tongue. He lets you fall forward onto your chest, your ass in the air for him to rub and fuck your cunt from. Flip does, oh he does, gives you a real run for your money with how long he holds out – but eventually, exhaustion from the day wins, and Flip can feel the hot tight curl of pleasure bubble up in the pit of his stomach.

“Let me come in you, so when it drips down your thighs you’ll know just which detective fucked you full.” Flip grunts, his way of saying he’s close.

“Yes, please, please come in me Phil, please I want it, god you’re so fucking good!” You beg, your voice breathy and raspy, desperate for him, wanting him to do everything he says and then some.

Flip grunts with a final few thrusts and spills his load into you, pumps you full just like he promised, until he’s got absolutely no energy left in his bones, and he pulls out, watching as his own come trickles down your thigh.

You both know you should clean up before succumbing to sleep, or at the very least, getting a wet rag to wipe the come and sweat off your bodies, but the closest available thing is your robe, and neither of you want to get out of bed for something different. So, Flip takes that and cleans you up dutifully, before making an expert throw of the robe into the hamper, and officially curling up next to you for the night.

“That Mrs. Zimmerman must be a real lucky lady.” You whisper, once the bedside table lamp has been shut off, and the crickets sing outside the window, out in the yard and in the mountains.

“You’re damn right she is,” Flip chuckles, kissing you softly, sweetly, “But I’m a way luckier man to have her.”

And in the quiet of night, he’s just about to fall asleep, his cheek resting on your breast just above your heartbeat, when you tug on his ear and very sleepily murmur with a blissed out giggle, “You really are late though, you know.”

[witcherslittledove]

Mine

Prompted and Beta'd by @jaskiertheflowertwink. Thanks to @cumslutciri for thotting with me and providing a few lines of the dialogue... not that she probably remembers it?

Ship: Geralt/Ciri

Summary: Geralt's always loved Ciri more than anyone else ever could. It's time he proves that to her, too.

CW: Dead Dove: Do not Eat, Underage, incest, vaginal sex, edging, daddy kink

AO3

_______

The clock kept ticking on the wall in the kitchen. Every second that passed grated on Geralt’s nerves, the sound just wouldn’t stop, echoing in the otherwise silent house. It was a normal thing to clock-watch when your only daughter was on a date, that’s what Geralt told himself, but deep down he knew there was more to it than that. His relationship with Ciri went beyond a normal father-daughter bond, which he hadn’t planned when he’d first held his baby girl in his arms, but as she’d grown into a young woman, he’d hadn’t been able to resist.

Ciri had known what she’d wanted and Geralt had always been helpless against the wide emerald eyes and quivering lips of his daughter. He’d kissed her just shy of her sixteenth birthday in a lapse in judgement, but it had only made it worse. Ciri had taken to sitting around the house in little to no clothing, masturbating on the sofa in clear view, pressing close to Geralt at any opportunity.

She was pure sin and Geralt had sold his soul to the devil.

Now, two years later, she was starting to date and he fucking hated it. Jealousy raged through him, a green poison in his heart, but he had no choice but to just sit and take it. He had no claim on his daughter, just stolen kisses and the occasional tumble between the sheets. They hadn’t even fucked, only using mouths and hands the few times Geralt let himself be seduced. His cock was definitely above average and Ciri was still young. Despite everything, Geralt didn’t want to hurt his daughter.

She was his baby girl, his little swallow, his cub.

He couldn’t hurt her if he tried. Everything he did was to please her, keep her close to him, and watching her start to fly from the nest was unbearable. He’d given her everything, even ended his relationship with his boyfriend because he couldn’t risk Jaskier finding out what they were doing. Geralt groaned and buried his face in his hands.

Jaskier.

The love of his fucking life, until Ciri. The relationship had been going so well, perfect even, and then Jaskier had suggested moving in together and Geralt had dumped him the next day.

It was Jaskier or Ciri.

And Geralt had chosen his daughter.

The bitch had repaid him by starting to date, and it was excruciating. Every tick of the clock stabbed into his heart, reminding him that he hadn’t been enough, that he would never be enough. Unless- unless he showed his daughter what she was missing? She didn’t need to date, he could be everything she wanted and more. What did these children have to offer her that he didn’t? He was more experienced and loved her more than they ever could.

The door clicked open and Geralt almost knocked his chair over in his hurry to stand up. Ciri stood in the doorway, her tight skirt barely covering her arse, and her shirt unbuttoned low enough to reveal the tease of a pretty hot pink bra. She looked like a dream come true; a nightmare… Geralt’s own personal hell.

“How was the date?” he forced out through gritted teeth, fingers digging into his sides as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Ciri scoffed, flicking her fringe from her eyes, lined with black smudges that made the emerald green seem even more startling against her pale skin. “He was an idiot.”

The green monster in Geralt’s heart cheered and his lips pulled into a smirk. “Could have told you that.”

“He wanted to fuck in the restaurant bathroom,” Ciri muttered, her greens eyes blazing as they met his gaze in a clear challenge,“which would have been fine… if he’d been able to get it up.”

This time, Geralt did growl, a low snarl that tore from his throat before he could help it. He pushed up against Ciri, pressing her back against the front door and captured her lips in a bruising kiss. She whimpered, so small and delicate underneath him, but he knew better. There was nothing innocent about his slut of a daughter. She paraded around, flaunting her body, teasing him and then acted all coy, going on dates with her peers and leaving him behind.

Geralt wouldn’t be left behind anymore.

He hummed into the kiss, nipping at her bottom lip as his hands slipped up the front of her shirt, cupping her breasts through the silky bra. Ciri moaned wantonly, leaning into him, her own hands clawing at his back, and when their lips parted, she let out a pitiful “Daddy.”

“You’re mine,” Geralt murmured against her lips, the taste of cherry gloss lingering on his tongue. “Those- those boys will never be good enough for you, sweetheart,” he let a hand roam up her thigh, pushing her legs open as he caressed the silk panties that were hiding underneath.

Soaked through and messy.

“Daddy, please,” she whined.

“I’m going to ruin you, Ciri. You’ll never want another cock or pussy in your life, and you will thank me for it.”

The moan that escaped her lips was downright sinful, and her lips parted so prettily as he ran his finger under the edge of her panties, teasing at her wet folds. She rutted against him, already begging him for more.

And more she would get.

He pulled down her underwear, letting it fall around her ankles, then coated his fingers in her slick. Catching her bottom lip between his teeth, he groaned as he slipped inside her, teasing her with just one finger before pulling away and pressing the digit to her lips. She took it eagerly into her mouth, moaning as she sucked the slick from his fingers.

“Good girl,” he murmured, delighting in the shiver his words elicited from his daughter.

Geralt had always planned to fuck her for the first time in her bed, make it so she couldn’t even go to sleep without remembering how good he felt, how good he could make her feel. His carefully laid plans were crumbling to dust. He was achingly hard and desperate to fuck his slut of a daughter right there…

Although the kitchen wasn’t as far as the bedroom.

And he’d always wanted to fuck her on top of the counters. Every morning before school he dreamed of it, Ciri’s legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her until she couldn’t remember her own name. It was the way she perched on top of the counters, insolently ignoring the table and chairs in the middle of the room, her pretty pink lips wrapped around the straw of her juice box.

With a grunt, Geralt lifted his daughter up off the floor, supporting her thighs with his hands as he carried her into the kitchen. She giggled as pressed her lips against his neck as he hoisted her up onto the counter, but he could see beneath the bravado. Ciri was nervous. A blush painted her cheeks and crept down her neck under her shirt, her hands shaking as they tried to undo the buttons on his own shirt.

Geralt chuckled, taking her hand in his, one hand still resting on the countertop next to her. His lips brushed against his cheeks, until he was able to whisper in her ear. "Do you think about me, when you think I'm asleep? Do you know I can hear you?"

Ciri whimpered, leaning into his chest and burying her face in his neck. “Daddy…” she whined.

“I know, sweetheart. You're so wet for me, aching for my cock aren’t you?”

She nodded but pulled back to look at him with wide emerald green eyes, peering through her eyelashes just like her mother had always done. Geralt smirked as he cupped her cheek, keeping her eyes on him as he nudged her legs apart with his knee, pressing between her thighs. Ciri’s skirt pushed further up her legs, revealing more of her pale skin underneath, luring Geralt in more than any other person had before.

“You have no idea what I can do to you baby girl," he murmured in her ear, keeping his voice low and gruff, just the way she liked it.

When he ran his hands up her thighs, she was already a mess. So he slipped a finger into her folds, teasing at her clit. She moaned as she arched her back, bucking against his hand to push his fingers deeper inside her. It was possibly the hottest thing Geralt had ever seen, watching his daughter fuck herself on his fingers but he wanted more, he needed more.

“Please,” she begged, baring her neck as she rocked against him, and he couldn’t help himself. his free hand reached up to wrap around her neck. Ciri gasped, her moan stuck in his throat, and for just a moment, he wanted to see how hard he could press, the bruises his fingers would leave on her skin. “Daddy…”

He swallowed as he tried to regain his composure, releasing his grip around her neck and pressing kisses where his fingers had been. “You’re just so good for daddy, sweetheart. Gonna make you feel so good,” he whispered in between kisses, “my little bitch.”

“Yes,” she whimpered, already nearing the edge of her orgasm just from his fingers, “yours, daddy, all yours.”

“I love you, baby girl,” he said, pulling his fingers out before she could cum. She whined pathetically, already so desperate and needy for him and he hadn’t even touched his cock once. “Not yet, Ciri, tonight you cum on my cock.”

Ciri’s eyes widened, dropping down to the not insignificant bulge in Geralt’s trousers. “But it’s so big…”

“You’re eighteen now, sweetheart. You can take daddy’s cock like a grownup, can’t you?” he smirked as he tilted his head. If she said no then he would find the will to stop somehow, but he knew his daughter, if she truly wanted to get fucked in some shitty restaurant bathroom then she would be even more desperate to get Geralt to fuck her.

That was why she had mentioned it in the first place. They both knew the game here.

When she spoke her voice was quiet and determined. “Yes.”

He kissed her forehead and whispered, "I'll take good care of you baby girl. We'll go nice and slow. I promise."

Then he slowly slid his fingers back into her wet folds, fighting to keep slow as he promised, but the sounds and pleas that fell from her lips didn’t help one bit. She was moaning like a bitch in heat and Geralt was only human.

She stretched so easily around his fingers, already so needy for something more but he promised to take it slow.

“Can you watch for me, sweetheart?” he asked as he thrust his fingers into her.

Ciri nodded, trying her best, but she could barely keep her eyes open, one hand gripping the counter, another groping at her own chest. She rolled her hips to push Geralt’s fingers deeper inside her again. Her body took over, and it was like she was made for Geralt, born just for him to fuck, so pretty and eager to please. This time when she was on the edge, Geralt slowed his movements and pulled his cock from his trousers. He briefly thought about the box of condoms that were in the bathroom, but Ciri had been on birth control for a few years now, and he didn’t really want to stop now to fetch them. So he pulled his fingers out, wrapping them around the tip of his cock before he pushed inside at a torturously slow pace.

Ciri whined and whimpered wordlessly, gasping as Geralt thrust into her, getting deeper with every push until finally he was fully seated inside his daughter, and even then he kept the pace slow, letting her get used to the feeling.

She felt so fucking good around him, wet and hot, hands clawing at his back as tiny little moans escaped her lips. It was a miracle that Geralt didn’t cum on the spot, already so heady with arousal.

He was fucking Ciri.

He was fucking his daughter.

Shit.

It should have disgusted him, he knew that, but it was forbidden and that just so fucking hot. The idea that they could get caught. Fuck, he’d be sent to prison… he’d probably never see his daughter again.

No.

She was his.

She would always be his.

His little sparrow, his baby girl.

Geralt let out a growl as his hips snapped forward, making Ciri cry out in a strangled moan that went straight to his dick. He was on fire, cock achingly hard as he lost all control pounding into her without restrain, ignoring her weak pleas as she could do nothing but hold on. Every gasp, every breath, every whimper had him driving harder into her, catching the sounds with his lips until hers were red and swollen.

“Fuck, daddy… more,” she panted in between kisses.

“Needy. Little. Bitch,” Geralt snarled in her ear. “So desperate for your daddy’s cock.”

“I want to cum, please… let me cum,” she begged oh so sweetly, just like Jaskier had begged him, like Yennefer never would.

“Not yet, baby girl,” Geralt instructed, not wanting the moment to end. He might never have her like this again, and he wanted to make it last.

She was sobbing into his chest, shaking as she desperately tried to stave off her orgasm, but it was no use. Ciri clawed at his back with a choked cry, her walls quivering around him as she rode through her orgasm. The sight was so obscene, that Geralt almost fell over the edge with her, instead just snarling as he muffled her moan in a kiss, biting at her lips. He was close, so close, thrusting harder into her, losing control of his movements. All he knew was the blinding pleasure he was chasing and the need to mark his daughter as his own, lest she ever stray from his arms again. Her cries were becoming soft whimpers as he felt a familiar tug at his core, his head feeling hazy and thick with his arousal, then with a grunt he came, spilling into her, still rutting into her as his own orgasm flooded through his body.

“Fuck,” Ciri whispered, sounding so perfectly wrecked, “I’m sorry, I didn’t, daddy, I tried.”

Geralt stroked a hand through her hair, burying his nose in her neck. Her perfume was cheap compared to her mother’s, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It was Ciri. His Ciri. His babygirl, who had tried so hard to be good for him. “Hmm, you were perfect, sweetheart.”

“But-”

“Perfect,” he repeated, kissing her neck, sucking bruises into the skin so she would remember all of this come morning. She’d have to wear a scarf or something to school despite the mild weather, but that satisfied something deep down in Geralt, the monster that he was becoming.

“I’ll do better,” she insisted.

And he grinned, this hadn’t been his intention when he’d asked her not to cum. He really had just wanted to make the moment last… but if she wanted to prove herself to him? He wouldn’t say no, in fact, he would encourage it. Ciri was fiercely competitive and he was not above using that to his advantage.

So the plan began to form in his head, if she was so desperate for his cock, he would make her the perfect little slut for him… and only him.

“Tomorrow,” he murmured as he pulled out of her, hungrily watching his cum drip down her thighs. “If you’re a good girl.”

Ciri’s eyes lit up, looking far too young and innocent for someone that had just been fucked within an inch of her life. “I’ll be good, daddy, I promise. I’ll be good.”

[hutchhitched]

Peeta Mellark, CEO

Written by: @hutchhitched​

Prompt 8: Peeta is a rich CEO and in love with another who disappeared before their marriage. So he withdraw within himself. But then he meets Katniss (her background is up to you) and falls in love for the second time. [submitted by @mysteriouslycraftyreview ]

Ratings/Warnings: E

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic. This is the fifth of the nine. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays. While this submission fills the prompt, I have more in store for this couple.

 ______________

 Peeta Mellark tossed his glasses down on the desk and scrubbed a hand over his face. His tired eyes felt like they were full of sandpaper, and the stubble on his jaw was definitely not the look of a successful businessman, let alone the CEO of an up and coming manufacturing cooperation that was poised to break into the Fortune 500 in the very near future. Exhausted, he shoved at the pile of papers on his desk and cursed his luck. He needed an administrative assistant immediately. Like yesterday. Or two weeks ago.

 To be fair, he needed a lot more than a new administrative assistant. He’d been in a funk for the past year, since his fiancée sent him a text (seriously, a text?) and called off their wedding—three days before it was to take place.

 Cashmere’s rejection had been tough to take. He had loved her so much, still did, if he was telling the truth, and it hurt every day to go home to his empty apartment and not see her there. His friends, business acquaintances, and family all tried to make him feel better by telling him he was too good for her, but that didn’t help at all. Cashmere and he were good together for a long time. It wasn’t her fault that his ardor had grown after their engagement and hers had cooled. It sucked that her attraction to him had abated to friendship, but he didn’t regret anything other than that his marriage had never happened.

 Since his broken engagement, Peeta had retreated into himself. He didn’t spend much time with anyone, including his family or close friends who all wanted to help so much it made him anxious. He couldn’t handle their good intentions when all he wanted to do was curl up on the couch in sweats and binge shows and eat junk food. If he hadn’t been the head of a company, he would have done that every day. Instead, he went into the office and buried himself in his work before going home and heading to bed—incredibly alone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked to his parents on the phone or grabbed lunch with anyone if it wasn’t for business.

 Sometimes he missed being part of the human race, interacting with others and seeing their eyes light up with joy when they laughed. He missed family dinners with his brothers and nights out at the club with Finnick, Darius, Thom, and Gale. But most of all, he missed being in love with someone. Having a relationship with a woman who wanted only him. A person to come home to and wake up with. A confidante who knew his secrets and faults and loved him anyway. More than anything, he was just really, really lonely and more than a little horny. He was an All-American adult male, after all, and it had been far too long since he’d been with anyone other than himself.

 Peeta pushed the intercom button on his phone and spoke into it. “Delly, can you come in here, please?”

 “Right away, sir.”

 Peeta smiled at Delly when she entered the room. As office manager, she’d worked her job and that of his missing assistant for too long. She deserved a raise. She also happened to be one of his oldest friends, which is why he managed to keep it together every day instead of losing it each time he thought about how empty his life was outside the office.

 “Delly, I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of the way things are going around here,” he said and idly twirled a pen between his fingers. “I think we need a change, don’t you?”

 “Sir?”

 “Delly, you’ve known me your whole life. Can you cut it out with the ‘sir’ bullshit? It’s me.”

 She visibly relaxed and sank into the chair opposite his desk. “What do you want to change, Peeta? Am I not doing a good enough job?”

 He winced at the worried furrow of her brow and chided himself for making her job harder than it already was. He made a mental note to submit the paperwork for a raise for her the next day.

 “You’re doing an amazing job,” he assured her, “but you’ve been covering for two people for months. It’s time I bite the bullet and get someone else in here.”

 “Do you want me to take a look at the resumés and send you the most qualified?” she offered. “I can go over them this evening and send them your way.”

 “No,” he insisted. “You’ve done enough. Go home. Take the weekend off, and don’t worry about anything. I just need the applicant file before you leave. I’ll review them and set up some interviews for early next week. Deal?”

 Her relief was palpable, and he tried to quell the guilt he felt for pushing her so hard instead of finding a replacement for his last assistant. She brought him the file right away, and he waved her out the office doors before she could find something else she had to do before she left. He’d flipped through several applications before his phone buzzed.

 “Finnick,” he answered. “How’s it going, man?”

 “Peeta Mellark, my man,” came the hearty response. “Haven’t seen you in months. It’s Friday. Come meet us at Ripper’s.”

 “I’d love to. I really would, but—”

 “But nothing, man. Get your ass down here. Time to rejoin the living.”

 “I can’t. Snowed under here.”

 “I will come drag you out of that office if you don’t get the fuck down here within the hour. I proposed. I will not take no for an answer.”

 “Congratulations, man, but I really—”

 “One hour, you asshole. You’ve been warned,” Finnick threatened and disconnected the call.

 Peeta heaved a heavy sigh and sat back in his chair. Finnick engaged. That was really something—something that made his insides twist and curl and hurt. Despite that, he had to go meet his friends. Finnick was the first to congratulate Peeta after he’d ask Cashmere to marry him and had been there after the breakup, too. Peeta couldn’t shirk, no matter how much he wanted to go home and hide.

 Frustrated and despondent, he packed up his laptop and files carefully before reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulling a bottle of whiskey from its depths. He poured two fingers of the dark liquid and loosened his tie. When he took a sip, the liquor burned a trail down his throat enough that he tugged the tie off completely and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt. By the time he’d finished his drink, he’d also lost his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to reveal his forearms. At least this way he looked like a regular working schmuck instead of an uptight executive who had no life outside the office.

 Fortified by the drink and a burgeoning desire to reconnect with his friends, Peeta made his way uptown to Ripper’s. Memories hit him in the gut as soon as the door opened. The sounds and scents assailed him, and a flash of evenings out with his friends and his fiancée flickered in his head. Cashmere leaning over to kiss him as his friends whooped. The taste of her lips after they both shot tequila, lime and salt clinging to her lips. Finnick grinning at him when he got his last promotion. Gale and Darius ribbing him about a new crush. Thom announcing his impending fatherhood. So many memories, and all they did was remind him how desperately lonely he was, despite his financial and professional success.

 Except that did matter tonight. It was Finnick’s time to celebrate, and he wound his way through the tables to the back corner where his friends waited.

 “Peeta Mellark! The man, the myth, the legend, right here in Ripper’s with us lowly humans.”

 Peeta couldn’t help but chuckle. “Good to see you, too, Finn. It’s been too long.”

 “That’s not our fault. Is it, boys?”

 “Who are you calling a boy?” Gale snorted over his beer. “I only see men here. At least, those of us sitting down. You and Mister Hotshot might not have reached full maturity yet, though.”

 Peeta laughed as Finnick flipped off the other guys at the table and then settled into the booth. It felt good to see his friends again. He needed to remember to make more time for them in the future.

 “So, how’s the high life, man?” Thom asked.

 Peeta shrugged and ordered before answering. Thanking the waitress, he slumped down in his seat and admitted, “Crazy busy, as always. I need a new administrative assistant. I’m working Delly to death, and she deserves better.”

 “Some of us would like to see our wives,” Darius grunted. “Should never have agreed when she asked.”

 “Didn’t realize she had to ask permission to leave the house,” Peeta answered pointedly.

 “Oh, come on, man. I didn’t mean it like that,” Darius protested. “We just have one of those marriages where we talk things through and make decisions together.”

 He knew he shouldn’t, but he envied Darius and Thom their marriages and Finnick his engagement. Even Gale had a serious girlfriend, although he hadn’t met her yet. Maybe that was why it didn’t seem too far-fetched when he spoke.

 “My girlfriend’s in between jobs. She’s a fantastic office manager. Maybe she could help you out.”

 “Seriously?”

 “Sure. I’ll have her give you a call.”

 “Thanks, man. You’ve just saved my life.”

 Finnick leaned in and grinned cheekily. “Great. Then you can afford to get drunk tonight.”

 “I really can’t.”

 “Too bad. Here’s our first round of shots.”

 ****

 Peeta woke the next morning hung the hell over. How he’d allowed his friends, in particular Finnick, to convince him to stay and then do shots was beyond him. His only excuse was that it was the weekend, and he didn’t have to go to the office today. Otherwise, his headache and significant dehydration might have killed him. He managed to stagger to the kitchen where he brewed a pot of coffee and downed half a liter of water before his phone rang.

 “Hawthorne. What’s up?” he rasped into the receiver.

 “Hey, Peet. I know it’s early, but my girl’s here, and I suggested she call you about the job. She’s game for it, so I figured I might as well hook you two up before I forget. You free to chat?”

 Peeta grunted but agreed. Reaching for a mug, he poured himself some coffee and added cream before settling at the counter. He wasn’t prepared for the snarky voice that echoed through the phone, but he immediately straightened when he heard it. The woman on the other end of the line was a spitfire and sounded exactly like what he needed to help keep his office running and give his oldest friend a break.

 “Gale tells me you need some help keeping your workplace running smoothly. I can do that for you, but I don’t come cheap. Pay me well, don’t give me shit, and I’ll make your life easier.”

 “That’s quite an offer, Ms., uh…?”

 “Mason. Johanna Mason. I’ve been keeping corporate America organized for the past ten years. You have quite a reputation. Youngest CEO at Panem Industries in ages. Survived the Coriolanus Snow purge and caught the eye of the board of directors in a good way. I think you surprised everyone when they realized you weren’t just a piece in their games. Congratulations.”

 “Thank you,” he answered, impressed with her knowledge of the business world. Gale must have given her a heads up, but he suspected she’d already known more than most. “You seem to be a player, too. I’m impressed.”

 “I’m very impressive. I’m sure you’ve heard about some of my best attributes from your friend, so let’s just move past the posturing and get to the specifics,” she announced, her voice businesslike. “I can start Monday. Gale indicated this could be temporary or long-term, depending on your other assistants. I’m amenable to either. As for my salary—”

 Peeta almost blanched at the figure but wasn’t deterred by her request. Good office managers were worth every cent they were paid, and Ms. Mason—Johanna! She was his friend’s girlfriend, after all—seemed to be exactly what he needed.

 “I have one caveat,” he insisted. “Gale is my friend, and you and he are together, but you are my employee. Our relationship needs to stay professional.”

 “Gale, honey,” she purred. “Peeta wants me to be professional. You think I can handle that?”

 Peeta cringed at the wet sounds in his ear. He’d be offended if Gale hadn’t taken the phone briefly and hissed, “She’s good for it, Mellark. You won’t regret it.”

 “Fine,” he muttered. “Can I call you Johanna? You’re hired. Thirty-day trial, and a five percent raise once you’ve proven yourself.”

 “You won’t need thirty days for that.”

 He was almost positive she was right, and he looked forward to Monday when he could offer Delly some time off to spend with her family.

 ****

 “I need that folder,” Peeta announced into his phone and scribbled a few notes on the report before him. Johanna swept into his office a few seconds later. She’d only been working for him for a week, but she’d already revamp his world. Everything ran smoother; Delly’d already put in for some well-deserved vacation, and he hadn’t been subjected to any inappropriate knowledge of his friend from his new employee. “Thanks, Jo. Can you—”

 “Already done. Meeting with Heavensbee is moved up to 1:00, and you have a business lunch tomorrow with Seneca Crane at the Capitol Grill. Both indicated their interest when I arranged the details.”

 “You are a gift,” he said, distracted by the email he’d just received about a new project in China. “Seriously, thank you for everything you do.”

 “No thanks needed. You pay me enough. I’m happy to make your life better.”

 He chuckled and sat back when she plopped a hot chocolate in front of him. “How’d you know? This is my favorite.”

 “You forget who I’m banging on the weekend?”

 “Gale, of course.”

 “And I don’t wait for the weekend, either,” she said with a wink over her shoulder. He smiled fondly as she slipped out the door and back to her desk. He understood what his friend saw in her. She didn’t take any shit, was sexy as hell, and knew how to get stuff done. If he had fifteen more like her, he’d take over the world. Not that he was too far off from that anyway.

 ****

 “You mind if I take a long lunch tomorrow?” Johanna asked as she handed Peeta several files and watched him tuck them into his briefcase. “A girlfriend of mine just got back to town, and I promised I’d meet up with her. Won’t happen again.”

 “Take all the time you need,” he agreed. “Delly can handle everything while you’re gone. It’s not a problem.”

 “Thanks, boss,” she said with a wink. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Got a hot date with my man.”

 Peeta chuckled as he shrugged on his jacket. “Tell Gale I said hi. Been a while since we hung out at Ripper’s.”

 “That’s because I make it worth it to him not to leave the house.”

 “I’m sure you do,” he mumbled as he headed for the elevator.

 “Good luck on your date!” she called as the doors slid shut, and he groaned.

 If she hadn’t reminded him at the last second, he could have argued with her, but now it was too late. He’d stupidly agreed to a setup. It was only drinks at a cocktail bar around the corner, but he had a million things to do before the next day. He didn’t have time to make small talk with a woman he didn’t know as they both sipped overpriced drinks and tried to figure out how long they had to stay before they escaped with a modicum of dignity. If he didn’t have to answer to Johanna the next day, he’d skip, but he just didn’t want to hear it. With a sigh, he turned left out of the building and made his way to meet his date.

 “Rue?” he guessed when he met the slim, African American woman sitting at the bar alone. She was lovely and smart and very sweet, but he could tell within five minutes that they weren’t right for each other. He offered a second round, but she declined politely.

 “You’re a great guy,” she said with a kiss to his cheek when she slid from her stool to the ground. “I’m glad we met.”

 “Likewise,” he nodded. “Best of luck with your startup.”

 He watched her walk away with a half-smile on his face and a hint of regret. It wasn’t that she’d passed on him. That wasn’t it at all. Despite being a perfectly attractive woman, there wasn’t a spark between them, and he’d been too deeply in love before to settle for anything less. With another huge sigh—they seemed to be becoming a habit—he grabbed his suitcase and coat and headed home to his empty penthouse.

 He hated being lonely.

 ****

 “Johanna, can you come in here, please?” Peeta waited for her reply, but when he got nothing, he walked to his office door and poked his head out. “Jo?”

 Delly glanced up from her desk and replied, “She’s still at lunch. You told her to take the time, remember?”

 “I do, actually. Sorry. It slipped my mind.”

 At that moment, the elevator door opened, and his employee walked down the hall, chatting happily with another woman. She drew up when she saw him and narrowed her eyes.

 “It’s not even 1:00 yet. Surely, the place didn’t fall apart with me gone only 80 minutes.” Johanna rolled her eyes at him and waved to her companion. “Peeta Mellark, this is Katniss Everdeen. Katniss, Peeta. I left something in my desk for her. She’s not staying.”

 The woman in question glanced back and forth between him and her friend uncertainly. She was slight and unassuming with storm gray eyes and thick, dark hair worked into a loose braid. A few strands of hair escaped and framed her face, which was far prettier than he’d realized at first glance. Quickly, he snapped to attention. Stepping toward her, he extended his hand and waited for her to shake it. When she did, electricity sparked through him.

 “Ms. Everdeen,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Any friend of Johanna’s is a friend of mine. Welcome to Panem Industries.”

 “Sheesh! She’s not interviewing for a job,” Johanna snickered. She’s just here to get something from me, and she’s Gale’s friend, too. I’m surprised you haven’t met before now. Those two have been thick as thieves since they were tweens. You really haven’t heard of her before?”

 “Why would I have?”

 “I thought you and Gale were tight?”

 “We are tight. What does that have to do with anything?”

 Katniss smiled wryly and spoke in a smoky voice that shot straight to his groin. “Gale and I were best friends for years. We had a rough patch when he developed feelings for me in high school. Didn’t talk much through college, but we worked it out. I think Jo’s just surprised he didn’t mention me to his friends.”

 “You okay there, boss?” Johanna asked, her eyes wary as she observed him.

 Peeta shook himself, aware that he’d been frozen as Katniss’ voice washed over him. “Fine! I’m fine. Katniss, it’s wonderful to meet you. Johanna, I need to see you in my office when you’re finished with your friend.”

 He moved quickly and closed the door behind him. Walking on unsteady legs back to his desk, he sank into his chair. Needless to say, he was unsettled. Something about those smoke colored eyes and husky voice had reached inside him and pulled feelings to the surface he hadn’t felt in ages, and it was disconcerting in a way he wasn’t quite ready to admit. Flustered, he turned in his chair and gazed out over the city until Johanna entered his office. It was only then that he could expel Katniss from his mind.

 ****

 “You know, it’s bad enough that you foisted your girlfriend on me as an employee,” Peeta teased as he downed another whiskey. “The least you could do is pass on your best friend’s number. No, scratch that. The least you could do was warn me your best friend from high school is smoking hot now.”

 Gale tipped his head back and laughed hard at his friend and Peeta’s obvious attempt to weasel Katniss’ number from him. Finnick and Thom hooted their amusement, and Darius waved to the waitress for another round of drinks. Peeta hadn’t meant to end up at Ripper’s again, but he’d been off kilter all week. When Finn had asked, Peeta shrugged and went.

 “You only like me for my girlfriends,” Gale teased and clinked his glass with Thom. “To be fair, they are pretty spectacular. I have great taste in women.”

 “Says the most modest man alive,” Finnick crowed. “You like them wild, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

 “Wait,” Peeta blurted. “Wild? Katniss?”

 “Not in the traditional sense,” Gale drawled after a long pull of his beer. “Nothing like Jo. She’s amazing—completely herself, likes to party, will rip me apart with her bare hands if I cross her—but Katniss is something else. Feisty but stealthy. She can skin a squirrel and look like an angel doing it. I’ve never been able to explain her to anyone. She really has no idea the effect she has.”

 “But you dated? You two?” Peeta prodded. Something about the thought of Gale kissing the woman he’d met made his stomach clench.

 “Not for long. She wasn’t much interested, but I would have given my left arm for her back in the day. She’s only improved with age. I’m lucky she still bothers with little old me.”

 Peeta snorted and flicked his eyes to each of his friends. Gale may not have been the best-looking guy in the group—Finn pretty much had that locked no matter who was around—but Gale’s tall, dark, and brooding nature made him pretty popular with the opposite sex. He hadn’t had trouble meeting women in ages. Unlike Peeta, who’d had terrible luck with women both before and after Cashmere. Couldn’t get them to look at him instead of his money now that he was wealthy, and he’d been dismissed for being way too nice when he was younger. His former fiancée had been an exception, but then he couldn’t get her to stay, with or without his bank account.

 “But seriously, dude. Help a guy out. I’ve been single for ages,” Peeta wheedled, but Gale just shook his head.

 “If she asks, I’ll give your info, but there’s no way I’m gonna try to set her up. I value my life and limbs too much to intervene.”

 “You just said you would have given your left arm for her!”

 “Back in high school and college, man. Not now. I need them both for the work I do.”

 Peeta conceded then. It wasn’t like him to pump his friends for information about women, and he wasn’t going to start now. Maybe she’d come by work again with Jo, or maybe Johanna would—

 No. Johanna would not. That was a terrible idea, so Peeta shoved Katniss Everdeen from his mind and sipped his drink. If nothing else, he could use a night out with his friends.

 ****

 Later that night, when Peeta lay in bed alone, his penthouse dark and empty, and his heart shriveling with sadness, he allowed Katniss to flutter through his thoughts. If he imagined her in love with him, no one could prove it. Just like there were no witnesses when he reached into his sleep pants and palmed his half-hard cock.

 He hadn’t masturbated with anyone particular in mind for a very long time—not since Cashmere and he had been a couple. There was something intensely erotic about stroking himself with mental images of a specific woman smiling at him, touching him, taking his dick in her mouth and sucking until—

 “Oh, fuck,” he hissed as he swelled and hardened. “Katniss. Yeah, just like that.”

 He fumbled in his bedside table for some lube and was so worked up he squirted half the bottle onto his pelvis. Rubbing his hand in the fluid, he groaned when he wrapped his hand back around his erection and tugged. His hips bucked, and his headboard slapped against the wall. Startled by the sound, he bit his lip and shook his head.

 It seemed wrong to jack off like this when he barely knew her. Stranger fantasies were fine, but this was one of his best mate’s long-time friends. Johanna would rip him apart if she knew what Peeta was doing and leave the leftovers for Gale to destroy.

 God, he didn’t care, he realized. Something about Katniss Everdeen made him want to throw caution to the wind. He’d been a goner since he first heard her voice, and he’d paid his dues with his loneliness. One night of lustful thoughts and indulgence seemed like a just reward for being single for so long. He’d only met her once, but there were all the tell-tale signs of a massive crush. Except, yes, he was attracted to her, but he also wondered if he might have a case of love at first sight. She invaded his thoughts constantly, and he ached to see her again.

 Until that could happen, though, he needed some relief. Closing his eyes and tossing his head back into the pillow, he moved his hand until he gained a steady rhythm. The wet squelching sounds of the lube on his skin echoed through the apartment and stirred mental images that made his breath come harder and faster.

 In his fantasy, her lithe body bounced on top of him, riding him with abandon and wanton pleasure painting her face. Her small breasts jiggled prettily with dusty nipples pert and pointed and inviting his mouth to lavish them with attention. His fist tightened, he jerked harder, and then—

 He whited out, stars bursting behind his eyelids, ecstasy flooding his body, and all the tension draining through ropes of thick fluid painting his torso. Dazed, he lay there for several minutes, doing nothing but enjoying the lazy tingle in his veins and the dopey grin turning up his lips with delight. His spent cock filled his right fist, and he squeezed it a few times to keep the buzz going.

 When he could think clearly again, he opened his eyes and snorted at the mess. He was sticky and sweaty and slick with his cum and lube. Covered in his ejaculate, he stumbled to the bathroom on shaky legs. He meant to rinse off and then drop into a dreamless sleep, but he ended up hard and wanting a second time as the water coursed over him. Turning the temperature to cold didn’t help either. Only another round with his fist calmed him enough to fall into a restless, dream-filled slumber. His body insisted on round three the next morning.

 Within a few days, a pattern emerged. He woke hard, masturbated, and then went to the office where two women ran his world. When he returned home, he beat off again, sometimes two times, before he was able to sleep. By the second week, Peeta had to admit his feelings for Katniss weren’t going away.

 His only choice was to get her to fall in love with him, too, or his name was Peeta Mellark. CEO of Panem Industries, captain of industry, jilted fiancé, and desperately in love with Katniss Everdeen. Johanna was going to have a field day with this.

[thoughtsaboutshows]

30 for the prompts

30. “Thanks for marrying me.

This one was requested twice, also by @nevergoinouttastyle

This is a continuation of my prompt from Take My Jacket where Sabrina and Nick meet as members of Ambrose and Prudence’s bridal party 

Today was the day.  She’d thought about this day a lot during her life.  What she would wear, eat, dance to.  Most importantly, who’d be waiting for her down at the end of the aisle while she walked down it.  An aunt on each arm.  In high school and shortly after she was dead-set on Harvey, with his floppy hair and goofy smile, to be the one waiting for her.  In college she’d fallen for the exotic artist named Caliban and for a short time she thought she might marry him.  That was until he’d decided that sleeping with the women who modeled for his clay sculptures was “a part of the process.”  

Nick had come out of nowhere, breaking down her walls despite the awful first impression he’d made.  Every day since, he’d complimented her headband and the way he reverently took it off when she told him to take her upstairs made it seem as if he adored it.  He had been mysterious and charming and he’d made her smile in a way she hadn’t in a while.  Maybe Ambrose was right and she needed to have a bit more fun.  So she’d taken a chance in going up to his room, abandoning her cousin’s wedding early.  She tried to steady her heart that beat with anticipation as Nick slipped his hand under the jacket that was draped over her shoulders and onto her lower back, leading her towards the elevator and away from the party so he could kiss her again.  

She awoke the next morning wrapped in the arms of the man her cousin had partnered her with, feeling more sated and satisfied than she ever had.  She hardly knew this Nicholas Scratch but already he had more than made up for his failed first impression, from the way he’d made her laugh or sang along to the songs when they danced to how his lips landed with perfect impassioned precision to her every inch of her body, knowing exactly how to make her shiver.  

She had expected them to brush each other off, chalk it up to a single great night, emboldened by the romance of a wedding.  But instead after kissing her soundly, wrapped up on his sheets, he’d ordered room service and a bottle of champagne.  She slipped on his button down shirt to eat only for him to unbutton it and peel it off of her shortly after.  Needless to say, they were late to the post wedding party her Aunties had thrown for the remaining guests.  He’d stuck by her and didn’t let the weekend end without getting her number and a promise to see her again.

As her cousin had said, stranger things had happened than Sabrina and Nick falling in love with each other.  But as Sabrina got ready before her wedding day to the man who had offered her his jacket two years ago, she came to the conclusion it wasn’t so strange at all.   

Sabrina had no doubt as she geared up to walk down the aisle that Nick was the right one to be at the end of it.  She had known it from the moment he called her a mere day after the wedding festivities had ended and when he’d invited her to travel with him the following Summer.  Her knowledge was solidified even more when he insisted on having the wedding at the same place as Ambrose and Prudence’s, the very place he’d fallen for her. 

So with all the people they loved by their sides, Ambrose in his party and Prudence in hers, they were married.  Ambrose and Prudence insisted they needed to be partnered up.  

“Because we look so good together, cousin.”  Ambrose had insisted. 

But Sabrina had figured it had more to do with how in love with his wife Ambrose was, and how he wanted to rub Prudence’s full and pregnant belly as they walked down the aisle. 

Tears welled in Nick’s eyes as she made her way to him and he didn’t even try to keep them at bay, shattering every notion of toxic masculinity that had been thrown her way.   He did that often, washing away the bad boy image that had been thrust upon him by whispers of people who didn’t even know him.  

Nick held onto her hand throughout the entire ceremony, refusing to let go even when he needed to use both hands.  He fumbled getting the ring from his best man because of it which made Sabrina snort and then smack him for pulling such an unattractive sound from her on her wedding day.   

He thought about kissing her softly and sweetly, being that they were in front of her family and all.  But once he heard the officiant declare them Mr. and Mrs. Scratch he realized that would be an impossibility.  It had been the world’s biggest surprise when she’d announced she was taking his last name and she seemed just as eager as he was when she grabbed his bowtie and pulled him down for their first kiss as husband and wife.  And not a sweet one at all.     

Hilda had worked with the chef at the venue to ensure the food was top notch and from the way Zelda ran around like a drill sergeant Sabrina was sure the night would go off without a hitch.  Their first dance was Elvis’ Can’t Help Falling in Love and he didn’t hold back from kissing her then too, holding her closer than ever.

They’d chosen to get married in the Fall because not only was it Sabrina’s favorite season but it’s when they met.  And Nick would take any opportunity to utilize the chilled air to wrap his arms around her.  As the night went on, it seemed he’d get his wish.  

He’d been chatting with some friend when Sabrina waltzed over to him.  They’d hardly been apart the whole night so when Sabrina leaned in to whisper in his ear.  He quickly excused himself and made his way over to the balcony.  

He found her leaning against the railing, her head-banded veil blowing in the wind.  She was staring at him, her rosy cheeks and red lips inviting him to step closer.  She was a picture perfect memory of when he’d found her out on that very same balcony two years ago.  Except this time was better, this time she was his wife. 

“Hey, Spellman.”  He said when he reached her, automatically reaching for her waist and pulling her to him.  

“Hey, Scratch.”  She bit her lip and reached up, adjusting his collar.  He’d undone his bowtie shortly after the reception began, and Sabrina always appreciated when he did so.  “But you know my last name has been the same as yours for a few hours now.”

“You may be Mrs. Scratch, but you’ll always be Spellman to me.” He flirted with her as his fingers drifted across her exposed collarbone.  Two years together or not, he could still make her tremble with just a touch. She couldn’t take it anymore then and pulled him down by his hair to kiss her.  If their first kiss as husband and wife had been passionate, this one reached maxed out levels.  

When they pulled apart she shivered and he didn’t hesitate to rip off his jacket and drape it around her shoulders.  His smirk matched hers as they both were taken back to that first night.  

“Thanks for your jacket.”  She said with a wink. 

“Thanks for marrying me.”  He winked back and reached over to wipe at her smeared lipstick.  “To be honest, I was surprised you ever gave me a chance.”

“Stranger things have happened, Scratch.”  She shrugged and pulled him down to kiss her again.  Her makeup was already messed up, they might as well mess it up more.  

They stayed out there a bit more, enjoying a reprieve from the attention and soaking up being together just the two of them.  When another gust of wind blew by and not even his jacket and his lips on hers couldn’t keep her warm enough he chuckled and made a suggestion. 

“Why don’t we go inside, babe.”  He pecked her lips one more time as she pouted. 

“Why don’t you take me upstairs.”  She suggested again, waving her eyebrows and daring him to do it.  He nearly opened his mouth to agree, no one would miss them anyways, when Prudence poked her head out the door. 

“Don’t you two even think about disappearing.”  Even in her pregnant state she was scary, maybe even more so.  “Sabrina your cousin is about to do something very embarrassing and I swear the agarvation will send me into early labor.” 

“We’ll be right in, Prudence.”  Sabrina said, laughing at her intensity.  When Prudence didn’t budge from her place in the doorway Sabrina rolled her eyes and grabbed Nick’s hand.  “Or we’re coming now.” 

She stopped in the doorway with Nick and kissed him once on the cheek, and decided not to tell him that he had lipstick on his face.  She leaned in to whisper in his ear again, first in thanks that he married her too and second all the things she was going to do when this night finally ended and they were alone.  Needless to say Nick had to swallow heavy and breathe deep to keep himself from whisking her away right then.  Instead they chased down Ambrose who had decided he was going to do his own version of the dollar dance, taking off a piece of clothing for every dollar he raised for the new couple. 

Sabrina laughed and tagged teamed it with Nick to pour coffee down his throat.  She wasn’t all that surprised that her cousin had pulled a crazy stunt at her wedding to Nicholas Scratch.

Because really, stranger things have happened.

[cockasinthebird]

congratulations on reaching 500 bb, you deserve it!! can i ask for prompts 7 and 115 please?

Dear anon, Thank you!!! And thank you for sending in prompts!!

7. “I want you now.”

and

115. “Come here.”

Not in this particular order, though, but still used quite well, and while I did actually struggle just a tiny bit with deciding which idea I should go for of the numerous ones that came forth, I’m still v satisfied!!! I’ll probably have to write the other ones at some point, but first! 

1.8k words, enjoy~

-

“Harrington!” his voice carries over the roar of a dozen teenagers talking and gossiping throughout the cafeteria.

Everyone goes dead silent, staring at Billy, then they all whip their heads at Steve, who’s frozen with his teeth biting into a piece of meatloaf.

“Come here!” Billy shouts with his eyes burning holes into Steve.

Cautiously he turns to look at Billy, fists tight at his sides, brows pulled strong together in a stern stare.

“What did you do?” Nancy whispers to Steve, leaning across the table.

Jonathan sits next to her, honestly looking more scared than Steve himself. Everyone else looks almost excited, as if they’re waiting for a chance to see blood, the tension palpable in the air, thick and electric like a storm is brewing.

He doesn’t answer, simply drops his food on the tray and stands up, immediately causing a wave of not that hushed whispers.

Steve’s gonna get his ass kicked. Billy boutta tear Harrington a new one! Dead man walking.

It’s kinda hard to ignore. The ocean of students separate before him like he’s Moses as he walks through the crowd. They’re all laughing, snickering, jeering, as the old King Steve approaches the reigning Keg King.

Nice knowing ya, Steve. Good luck. Just give up now, it’ll hurt less. If I were you I’d run away.

But he doesn’t register any of it beyond simple background static, because the way Billy is staring, leering, is setting his soul aflame, triggering his fight or flight instinct, getting him a tad bit too excited.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Billy hisses at him, canines exposed through a scowl.

Steve frowns right back, crosses his arms. “I dunno, you tell me.” They’re standing so close that he can smell Billy’s cologne, feel his harsh breathing against his lips.

Billy looks away from Steve and over his shoulder, going from one peer’s curious gaze to another’s bloodthirsty one, then snarls, “What the FUCK are you all staring at?”

And at that they all scramble around, returning to their places, but it’s painfully obvious that they’re still paying attention, glancing over shoulders with perked ears.

A fist closes around the fabric of Steve’s expensive, short sleeved, open button down.

“Not here,” Billy whispers sharply, nostrils flared, a finger rubbing against the slightly exposed patch of chest hair Steve has to offer.

-

Steve gets pulled along by the shirt, out of the cafeteria, down the halls of Hawkins High, outside, underneath the bleachers, and isn’t released till Billy shoves him against the chain link fence that spans the outer borders of the football field.

Within a second Billy’s on him, lips meeting roughly with such a deep hunger it leans toward too much, but Steve follows his lead, moving fingers up to pull at the golden mullet, breathing ragged through his nose.

Billy’s thick fingers tear through the buttons of Steve’s shirt. He has been staring at him all day, the pale blue shirt having been opened just enough to expose the top of his chest, a hint of hair, and it is a fair move on Steve’s behalf, considering it’s at the start of summer and sweltering hot, nearing 90 degrees already. 

But Billy hates it, in a sense, as he could not focus all day, Steve’s pale skin just teasing him, daring him to stare, inviting him to touch. And perhaps it’s because he’s seen Steve fully naked, flushed, moaning beneath him, marked up in purple and red, that he can’t just go on about his day whenever Steve shows just a bit too much. Short shorts, tight jeans, crop tops, and unbuttoned shirts. It just flicks a switch now.

As he leans away from their brutish kissing, he stares at the patch of hair now fully on display, then catches Steve grinning like the cat that ate the canary. 

“You wore this shirt on purpose, didn’t you?” barely an actual question as Billy runs his fingers through Steve’s dark, rather soft, chest hair.

“I did,” he responds, sounding a bit more winded than Billy. 

“You know what it does to me,” another clear statement.

“I do-” Steve starts with a sensuous chuckle, but winces an interruption as Billy tugs on a few strands of hair. “Ah-h, asshole.”

But they both laugh at that, humoured by Steve’s obvious teasing and insinuation that follows wearing this shirt, unspoken but still heard. Billy leans in, doesn’t kiss Steve even as he opens up with wanton; his need to taste Billy again palpable.

“God,” Billy growls out hot, and Steve eats it right up, squirms a bit under the hand flat on his pecs. “I want you, now.”

“Hmmm…” Steve hums as if he’s actually contemplating something, as if it wasn’t his plan from the start of his morning to end up like this. “How?”

-

Billy spreads his legs out on the backseat of the camaro, not that there’s a lot of space to do so, but enough for Steve to kneel there, balanced precariously on the edge of the bench, as he kisses Billy; a bit softer now but no less passionate.

As Steve makes his way down, across the jaw that tastes of aftershave, the neck that smells of cologne, the chest that beats like a drum, Billy thunks his head against the window, gazing at the tree tops surrounding them where they’re parked in the forest.

Wet, eager, pliant lips follow right behind where Steve’s fingers undoes the buttons of Billy’s dark fuchsia shirt, tongue out to taste the summer on his skin. When he reaches the border of jeans and pulls at the belt, Billy looks down at him to run a hand through his hair.

Brown eyes shoot up, dark and amber, filled with lust, desire and a certain tenderness they haven’t addressed yet. Which Billy doesn’t really want to, just in case it would ruin everything, because he doesn’t believe he can trust his own heart with such a delicate matter, with such a pretty boy.

Steve raises himself to kiss Billy, pushing his tongue in to curl them together, sweet and wet and dear, before he pulls off by an inch with a complacent smile.

“You were really convincing back there,” he laughs quietly, unhooking the belt.

“Oh yeah?” Billy chuckles back. He’s got one arm resting across the backseat, the other up to grab at the headrest for the driver's seat.

“Yeah, had me worried for a moment.” A button pops free and the zipper runs loudly.

“Good, ah-” Billy bites back a moan as Steve’s warm and slightly sweaty hand reaches into his trunks. “Wanted to- fuh-ck- wanted to sell it, make it believable.”

He gasps and groans as Steve works his hand along Billy’s full erection, staring down at those soft, pale fingers squeezing around him.

“Shit Stevie…”

Steve chuckles warmly, smiling as wide as he can go, eyes lidded and heavy with a heated gaze at how Billy becomes breathless by his touch. He scoots down the seating, lying down as much as he can, legs bent into the air, as he faces the girthy cock that throbs in his grasp.

Looks up through lashes to watch how Billy bites into his lower lip, brows pinched together with anticipation as Steve pulls his dick free from its reins. Feels a gentle hand petting his hair when he skims his lips across the burning skin, runs his tongue from the base up to just under the head, following the curve of it with the tip of his tongue.

The hand in his hair is heavy, comforting, pleading, and Steve opens his mouth wide, smears the droplet of pre against his flat tongue, then sinks down on Billy’s cock, stretching his lips around the thickness of it.

Instinctively Billy bucks his hips up, making Steve gag loudly - but he doesn’t pull off, just makes a slightly annoyed sound as he adjusts to the intrusion prodding at the back of his throat.

“Fuck! Fuck, sorry Steve, you just- ah- yes-” at least he tries to apologize, but the way Steve has the head of his leaking prick rubbing against the palate of his mouth makes it a real struggle not to thrust into that gorgeous, slippery heat.

“Mmh, arrh, look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock like that, baby,” Billy moans out as Steve starts bobbing his head; fingers tugging on his hair to set the right pace.

Steve says something, not meant to be heard, rather for it to vibrate off of his tongue and through Billy’s steely erection, making him leak worse, groan louder, as Steve swallows around the head.

"God, fuck- you suck dick so so good, harrh- ahh-" 

With both hands in his hair now, Steve moves faster, rolls and twists his tongue, pressing against the bulging veins, swipes against the weeping slit before daring to push his way down to nuzzle his nose against Billy's crotch. 

"F-faster," Billy begs as nicely as he can, voice on edge and rough. 

And Steve's happy to oblige; let's himself be controlled by Billy's eager lust, fists lifting him up till only the head of the thick cock is inside of Steve's mouth, then gently but with intent thrusts back in. 

It's sloppy and obscene as he fucks into Steve's throat, throbbing erection drenched in spit, drool running down Steve's chin as he relaxes. 

"Yeah, fuck, I'm-I'm so-" Billy trails off with a loud groan, thighs tensing, head hitting the window as he throws back, shoving Steve fully onto his dick as he cums, a lot, warm and salty and overflowing almost. 

Steve swallows the best he can around Billy's cock, like he's sucking on a lollipop, hollowing his cheeks, working the muscles in his throat to milk Billy dry. 

As Billy gasps for air, chest heaving, prick softening up real quick, Steve pulls off and licks his lips all satisfied, earning himself a breathless laugh from the other. 

He makes a bit of a show of it, really letting his tongue slide from one corner to another, mouth wide open, crawling further up to then kiss against Billy's lips with an all too happy smile. 

"You're incredible," Billy hums with appreciation and something close to adoration, his fingers brushing through Steve's thick hair, caressing him and soothing where he's been yanking and pulling on dark locks. 

"I try," Steve chuckles.

"Your turn now." And Billy starts pushing Steve away, looking down at the bulge in his jeans, clear as day. 

But Steve shakes his head and catches Billy's hand as it initiates a dive for hard flesh. 

"Later. Pick me up after school and I'll let you fuck me blind here in the backseat," Steve purrs directly into Billy's ear, then removes himself entirely to climb back into the passenger seat.