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sagesolsticewrites · 3 months

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Hi! I’d like to request a John “Bucky” Egan fic where he tries several times to flirt with the reader, but the reader is super oblivious about it and just thinks he’s being nice. It becomes something everyone on base talks about and gets invested in. Maybe other people set up a scheme to get them together or make the reader realize how he feels. Idk, just something funny and cute like that ig 😁

Thank you so much for requesting, Nonnie, I’ve been having so much fun with these Masters of the Air requests! I loved getting to write for our best boy Bucky 🥰 Shoutout to @blurredcolour’s Trust fic (an absolute masterpiece, check it out y’all!) for helping with the writers block on this one 😅 (Reminder that requests are open! Feel free to check out some of my favorite prompt lists in my pinned post 😊)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Oblivious

“There’s my favorite nurse!”

You rolled your eyes at the phrase that announced John “Bucky” Egan’s every visit to sickbay.

“Hello, Major,” you said, turning to greet him with a mock-exasperated smile.

Bucky clutched a hand to his heart as if wounded, a hurt expression on his face. “How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Bucky, sweetheart?”

“At least a few more times, Major,” you reply, unable to hide a smile at the usual volley of friendly banter.

Major John Egan had been unusually friendly to you since the first moment he’d sauntered in to introduce himself to the medical staff as Air Exec. Your colleagues had blushed afterward and playfully insisted that he had paid you more attention than the others, but you just laughed and shook your head, insisting that he was just being nice.

This visit was simply another instance of Bucky being friendly to you; well, that and Harry Crosby’s airsickness had gotten the better of him again and he was checking up on the navigator.

You stepped aside as Bucky approached Harry’s cot, ready to update him on the goings-on since the last mission had returned.

He threw you a kind smile before perching on the stool next to Harry.

“How’s my girl treatin’ you, Crosby?”

Harry happily told him how the base had gotten a new shipment of airsickness pills and you had slipped him a spare box for his own personal use, and Bucky’s smile grew wider and wider.

You were glad to see how happy he was at the news that his friend was feeling better, and you quietly excused yourself to tend to the other patients.

Bucky sighed as you walked away.

“She still hasn’t picked up on it, huh?”

“No, Croz, she hasn’t.” sighed Bucky, “She thinks I’m just bein’… nice or friendly or something. Which I am!” He added hurriedly, “But I just…I like her so much. I wish she’d notice.”

“She will, buddy,” Harry replied, with a comforting pat on his friend’s hand, “She will.”

Bucky headed out after a few more minutes of conversation, giving you a wink and a smile as he walked past your station.

“Bucky visited again, huh?” Rebecca, one of your fellow nurses, sidled up next to you with a teasing grin.

“Yes, Major Egan came by to visit Lieutenant Crosby,” you replied, putting emphasis on their ranks.

“You’re sure that’s all he was here for? Somehow he never shows up here without an excuse to see you…”

“He’s just being nice, Becca,” you insisted, “You know how these soldier boys are.”

“But he’s always—”

“Becca,” you cut her off as gently as you can, “I really don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

“Alright, alright,” she held her hands up in surrender, “Bucky is an off-limits topic, gotcha.”

The conversation turned to the current hot gossip, and you idly chimed in when it seemed appropriate, losing yourself in your routine tasks.

Rebecca broke off to check on Harry again, narrowing her eyes as she noticed Harry watching you.

“Something Nurse L/N can help you with, Crosby?”

He jumped, gaze darting to Rebecca as she approached.

“No ma’am, I just…”

He scrambled to think of some excuse, but all he could come up with was: “I’m trying to think of some way to get Y/N to notice Bucky!”

Rebecca blinked in surprise, then plopped down onto the stool next to his bed, leaning in conspiratorially.

“Oh thank goodness it’s not just me! He’s been at it for months but the poor girl’s just so oblivious…”

“I keep telling him to just talk to her like a normal person, but he insists on dancing around it!” Harry instantly agreed, glad to have someone besides Jean to talk to about this. “He’s been so distracted lately. If he doesn’t do something soon, I’m worried it might start to affect his flying.”

Rebecca pressed her lips into a thin line, twisting a strand of hair worriedly.

After a few moments of quiet, she spoke up again, green eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I’ve got an idea.”

———

“Hey Bucky,” Harry said at breakfast the next morning, “I’m gonna pop down to the infirmary to visit Winks, wanna come with?”

Bucky quickly agreed— he’d been meaning to check on Winks yesterday as well as Croz, but got caught up in… well, you.

As they entered, Bucky made a beeline for Winks while Harry caught Rebecca’s eye and gave a subtle nod, which she returned, signaling her part of the plan was complete.

She had removed the step stool you always used from one of the supply closets, now hidden under one of the cots nearby. When you weren’t able to reach something on one of the higher shelves, well…

Good thing Bucky was so tall.

“Y/N, would you mind grabbing some more bandages for me? My station’s running low.”

“Sure thing, Becca!” You called, stepping away from your current station to check the supply closet.

“Becca…” your confused voice called from the closet, “Do you know where the stepstool went?”

“It’s not there?” She called back, sounding equally confused. “Let’s see, um…”

She scanned the room, putting on a good show of looking for someone who could help.

“Oh, Bucky! Would you mind helping Nurse L/N grab something from the supply closet for me?”

“No problem, Becca,” came his reply, accompanied with his trademark winning smile as he nodded to Winks and made his way over to the supply closet.

It was much smaller than he’d anticipated, and barely half a foot was all that separated you as he asked, “Alright, what do ya need, sweethea—”

The pet name was cut off by the sound of the supply closet door closing.

And locking.

You lunged for the handle as Bucky reached up to turn on the single lightbulb, both of you calling out in confusion.

“Becca! What?”

“C’mon, guys, this isn’t funny!”

Harry’s voice came through the door, clear and determined.

“Just tell her how you feel, Bucky! Your tactic clearly isn’t working!”

“I— what?” You turned to Bucky, hoping he knew what in the world they were talking about.

Bucky hesitated, but seeing as it seemed he had no choice…

“Well this isn’t… exactly how I wanted to do it, but…” He took a deep breath, twisting his fingers together in an uncharacteristic display of anxiety, “I really like you, doll. I’ve liked you since I first laid eyes on you. And I’ve tried every way I know how to tell you, but nothin’ worked, so…” He gestured around at the supply closet, “I guess it came to this? Which wasn’t my idea, by the way. Just for the record. I would never…”

His voice faltered, and you realized just how close you were to him. You didn’t remember moving forward. You were just suddenly there, so close the two of you were almost breathing each other’s air.

“You… you like me?”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Doll, you think I call every pretty girl workin’ here my favorite nurse?”

You flushed at the compliment.

“I thought you were just being nice, I didn’t…”

“I mean, I was bein’ nice,” He said with a shrug, grinning, “Just not quite in the way you were thinking.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked down to your mouth, and being this close to you, he couldn’t hide the bob of his throat as he swallowed nervously.

“I’d, uh. I’d really like to kiss you right now, if that’s alright with you, sweetheart.”

You nodded slowly, “I think I’d really like that, Major Egan.”

“It’s Bucky, sweetheart,” he murmured softly as he leaned in, capturing your lips.

You may or may not have spent more than a few lonely nights in your bunk imagining what it would be like to kiss Major John Egan.

Your imaginings were nothing compared to reality.

This was magic unlike anything you could have dreamed.

Your arms wound around his neck as his wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You toyed with the dark curls at the nape of his neck as he slanted his mouth against yours, deepening the kiss. Needing to be closer, you tried to step towards him, but merely succeeded in pressing him back against the shelves.

Ordinarily you would apologize, but something like a thrill ran up your spine when you felt him grin into the kiss as his back hit the shelves, knocking rolls of bandages and boxes of gauze onto the floor.

His right hand moved to cup your cheek, keeping your lips connected as his other hand splayed across your back, pulling you impossibly closer as you arched into him.

You could still feel him grinning as he murmured against your lips, “Knew you were feisty under that good girl act.”

“Bucky,” you whined softly as he pulled away from you, chest heaving.

“Oh, now she uses my name,” he teased breathlessly, bumping his nose playfully against yours.

The two of you flinched as sunlight spilled into the dim closet, a harsh change from the dingy yellow lightbulb you had become accustomed to.

Harry and Rebecca stood in the doorway, wearing twin smug grins.

“Looks like our work here is done,” Becca said, shooting you a wink as she bid farewell to Harry with a two-fingered salute, “Pleasure working with you, Lieutenant Crosby.”

“Same to you, Nurse Carter,” Harry replied, and he turned back to the two of you, a genuine smile on his face.

“About time, Bucky.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky waved off his friend’s I told you so, “You gonna congratulate me or what?”

“Congratulations,” came Harry’s mock-put-out reply, accompanied by a genuinely congratulatory clap on his arm. “You got a good one. And it only took months of unsuccessful flirting—”

“Hey, I got her in the end, didn’t I?” He squeezed you closer, grinning down at you.

Your lipstick was all over his mouth, and you’re sure the Victory Red on your own lips was in no better shape.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care, however, as he pulled you in for a tender kiss.

Which you broke for a moment to point out, “He isn’t wrong, you know, it was months of unsuccessful—”

Your teasing was promptly cut off with a “shush” mumbled against your lips as Bucky silenced you with a kiss.

#sage answers #major john bucky egan #bucky egan #bucky egan x reader #john bucky egan #john bucky egan x reader #callum turner #masters of the air #masters of the air x reader #callum turner masters of the air #callum turner x reader

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gffa · 3 months

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Usually, I like to finish reading a fic before recommending it properly, but I've been sucked into about five different STAR WARS fics recently that I've gotten far enough into that I'm willing to trust my heart to them because they're scratching a very specific itch for me--namely, that I want deeper explorations of both the Jedi Order and of Anakin's character. I want fic to punch me in the feelings over both of these aspects of the story. I want fic to sometimes set Obi-Wan and Anakin aside and focus on Ahsoka for awhile, really tell her story. I want Jedi themes woven into a story. I want an exploration of Anakin's mindset that reminds me of just how much I love him and have sympathy for him. And fandom has delivered for me.

DO YOU WANT FIC TO BLACK OUT TO AND LOSE AN ENTIRE WEEKEND OVER? HAVE I GOT SOME RECS FOR YOU:

✦ Out with Lanterns by SkyeBean, ahsoka & mace & jedi & clones & cast, 312.5k In another universe, Jedi Masters Plo Koon and Depa Billaba decide a Padawan could do Mace some good. It takes a while, but he eventually agrees. When he takes Ahsoka Tano as his Padawan, Mace knows that he's broken through a Shatterpoint and changed the course of a life. How, he doesn't know. This fic accomplishes several things that have sent me over the moon: 1) At its heart, it's an Ahsoka fic that shows her growing up as a Padawan, going on missions, learning lessons, and having character growth. 2) It weaves in so many other characters around her, that Mace is there in almost every chapter, serious but warm in the Force, just as beautifully characterized as she is. 3) The other Jedi get their moments of excellents, Shaak taking Ahsoka on her Akul hunt was wonder to read, seeing Obi-Wan show up for a chapter had me over the moon, Adi taking care with Ahsoka was lovely, Depa was a shining star when she took Ahsoka under her wing, Fox growing used to these strange Jedi and growing into himself through Ahsoka's eyes was wonderful. 4) The writing is that kind of solid that I don't mean as mid-tier, but the kind that I feel like can bear weight on it, I can pick it up and read for 30k and barely realize any time has passed, despite that I've gotten through an entire arc of the fic. 5) It does an incredible job of balancing that feel of The Clone Wars show, without directly copying anything, that it's like these are arcs that I could have seen on the show itself, the lessons woven in, but still with enough plot moving forward and action to make it exciting. If you want more Jedi-centric fic in your life (where they don't have to be perfect! sometimes they can be less than perfect and it's okay because they're still good! ohhhh, my heart warmed at that) or you want to read a lovely Ahsoka-centric fic in a different life, but still so recognizably herself, then this is one I want to shove right in your face immediately.

✦ Take it from the top and try again by mauvera, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & padme & mace & dooku & cast, time travel, 116.k wip Five years into his self imposed exile on Tattooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gifted the chance to go back and bring hope back to the galaxy. With hindsight on his side, he fully intends to save his master, save his padawan, make some new and old friends again, prepare the Jedi for a war they’ll hopefully never see and begin to pull apart all the many tangled threads of the Sith Lord’s plans. Should be relatively easy. Right? I got sucked into the first fic in this series (which is complete, if you want to read it--it's not the end of the story, but it's a good stopping point and feels like it should have some solid resolution if you don't want to get into a wip) and read the first fic over the course of about three days because I was sucked in so thoroughly. I can never get enough of Obi-Wan time traveling back to the past, where he loves the Jedi and they love him, and I love this one because he has to make genuine plans for changing things--things change and I have no idea how that's going to affect Palpatine's machinations! Exciting! But it's also a lovely look at Obi-Wan's dynamics with multiple characters--I found the Obi-Wan & Padme scenes a hightlight personally, their friendship really blossomed as they both flung themselves into trying to better the galaxy, even if she doesn't know he's from the future, that he's working so hard matched a lot of her energy and I really enjoyed that--from Qui-Gon to Mace to Padme to Anakin and, as the sequel progresses, Dooku as well. It's another Jedi-positive fic, it has me invested in the plot, it's a joy to see competent!Obi-Wan, and I would love to shove it at more people.

✦ Post Order 66 Exile AU by Livsy, obi-wan & anakin, 46k (wip-esque) After a failed order 66, in which many Jedi still died but the Sith were defeated, an exiled warrior and a boy wander a distant planet and attempt to get along. This is probably the shortest fic on this list but I'm including it because it genuinely felt longer than that, for how dense the emotional intensity of it is. It's an AU where the Jedi barely eked out a victory, still on the edge of extinction in many ways, and Anakin deep in the pits of the dark side, so Obi-Wan takes him to a backwater planet in exile for the both of them, traveling through the countryside and just trying to make it from day to day. What punched me right in the feelings place is that this fic doesn't shy away from the hurt and the anger on both sides, that both of them are allowed to be unreliable narrators that have their own points of view on what's transpired and what lays between them. It doesn't back away from the hurt they both feel, the despair they both feel, yet there's hope here. It's ultimately a story about clawing yourself back from the dark side, and it's beautifully characterized for both of them, that unkind things are said on both of their parts, but you understand why the characters are in the place they are. It's wrapped up in a lushly written backdrop, with some lovely Japanese feudal era details woven in, but also with a Star Wars patina spread across all of it. It's not necessarily a kind fic, but if you like fic that bites down on a wound, I enjoyed this series a lot and would love to see it continued--but, honestly, what's here is already enough resolution that, looking back on it after the initial "Noooooo, I need more!" feeling has faded, I'm actually very satisfied with. ✦ Men of Power by AlabasterInk, obi-wan & anakin & mace & yoda & jedi & palpatine & cast, 86.1k wip When an old powerful man suddenly comes in and sweeps your underage Padawan away without so much as a by your leave, that’s the time to start asking questions. I'm only about 20k into this fic, so I can't say what shape it will take later on or how much pairings might come into it, but I still had to come running over to shove this fic at people, because it's scratching the itch I have for Jedi-positive fic that explores the idea of Anakin's trauma from his childhood as a slave, that this is a child who is wound so tight and comes from such a horrible thing having been done to him, having been owned as a person, that I understand why he stays silent on some of the things I desperately wish he could talk about or he doesn't really believe some of the things the Jedi tell him. It's a fic that takes a lot more care with Anakin's character than I think canon ever intended, weaving in a lot of the heartbreaking stuff from Legends' supplementing the canon, and is creating something that punches me right in the feelings place for him, that he's such a bright, brilliant boy, but I see why he struggled and it's not about assigning blame in any direction. It's about deeply caring people who fate has take a few steps to the left and something shifts just a little--and I appreciate that there's something very delicate feeling here, that the Jedi just don't have any real reason to be suspicious of Palpatine, his actions make sense, they genuinely can't feel any ill intention from him in the Force, they discuss why it would make sense that he'd want to support Anakin, all while we the readers can see, in hindsight, where the shadows have been creeping in. If you want Jedi-positive fic that also leaves some teeth marks over Anakin's trauma being explored in a way that is entirely sympathetic to him, then I want to shove this fic at you, too.

#lumi.txt #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #mace windu #yoda #ahsoka tano #jedi order #fic recs #star wars fic recs

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lunarw0rks · 8 months

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Hiii, I've absolutely devoured most of your fics and I absolutely LOVE your writing style ♡♡♡ could you do an established relationship fiction with Ghost? Y/n is sort of asexual, so sometimes even if she's not in the mood herself, she just likes to watch Simon get himself off (maybe multiple rounds!!!)? Nsfw with lots of fluff??? ♡

warning(s): nsfw (18+), established relationship, fluff/smut, (m.) masturbation, asexual!fem!reader

A HELPING HAND | SIMON RILEY

it's no secret that simon's relationship with intimacy is complicated.

but so is yours, and it makes for a perfect pair... sometimes. tonight was not one of those nights.

"are you alright?" you ask, glancing up from the book in your hands.

he hasn't stopped fidgeting, and he won't. sit. down. it's starting to drive you nuts. but frankly, for such a calm man to get jittery — something was up.

it was random, his sudden urge for intimacy. however, it was clear you were relaxing, in your own little world. he didn't want to soil that. it had been weeks since you two had sex — which was usually never a problem, but tonight was especially difficult for Simon to stifle.

"...'m fine," now he's rearranging the desktop, only sitting down in the desk chair briefly as a means of distraction. his pants were painfully tight by this point.

"simon... simon." you interrupt his rambles, recognizing that familiar shift he's doing in the seat. how one hand has remained on his inner thigh for several minutes. "if you want something, all you need to do is ask, you know that, right?"

the swivel chair comes to a stop when it faces you, but he's still stiff in his posture. "not that kind of favor, love." he says, looking awfully meek for someone with such conviction any other time.

you were only teasing him before. but now you really had an answer — the root of his not-so-little problem, which resided in boxers that are currently a size too small.

though you weren't feeling any urges of your own arise, there was fun to be had in watching him. it wouldn't have been the first time, either. "why don't i watch you again?"

there was no sense in being coy like he was the first time you proposed the idea. it wasn't as awkward as you thought it'd be. in fact, that night you found the sight quite arousing... without acting feeling aroused at that moment. besides, it made the reward for later twice as satisfying — whether it be weeks, or months before you have the desire to reciprocate again.

"you're sure about this?" his movements went still as if waiting on your permission to start palming his thigh again.

with a small smile, you tossed your book aside and let it land somewhere out of sight on the bed. still, you insisted, "deadly serious, si. it doesn't bother me."

he clicked his tongue and nodded to himself, slouching a bit in the chair to unbuckle his belt. the metal clinked as he shimmed with it, eventually setting the accessory on the desk behind him. once the jeans were loosened, you could truly see the pressure of his hardened length — begging to be sprung free.

simon shifted his hips until only his jeans were pulled down a bit. next, he peeled back the waistband of his ebony briefs, cock slumping against his tone stomach. tip ruddy and oozing pre-cum, and his stomach heaved a bit from the sensation of having his problem released from the confines of clothing.

thick, calloused hands grasped his erection, slouching forward to spit on it. the translucent string rolled down his shaft, going the pattern of the prominent veins along its sides. a truly lude image to witness; tempting, even, if you were truly in the mood.

instead, it was motivation enough for another time.

manspreading in the desk chair, he continued to work his cock. faint, wet clicks of the lubricant echoing through the bedroom. it didn't help how quiet simon naturally was. but where was the fun in this, if not putting on some sort of show for you?

he let a few noises slip, huffing through his nostrils audibly and letting out small grunts the faster you went. you lay back against the plush bed, biting back feelings of fluster that came whether aroused or not. his moans were rare and cherished — and you happened to be one of the few souls lucky enough to hear them.

you folded your arms and watched intently, gnawing on your bottom lip. not being aroused didn't mean you weren't going to ogle him, especially when all hot and bothered.

his hand moved hastily, its large size swallowing his length, covering more surface area than yours ever could. you'd catch his hips bucking in the seat while he maintained eye contact — unless they drooped shut when his fingers brushed against his sensitive slit. the same way he shuttered when you skimmed your tongue along it many times, except he had the luxury of not getting 'scolded' for it.

now he's exposed his weak points. you now knew he savored it when you teased your tongue there.

especially when he'd gotten so twitchy with his own thumb caressing. well, now you've taken note to tease him that way again, no matter the repercussions.

"need to— fuck— touch you," his speech skipped like a scratched CD, the strokes growing sloppier and more desirous. he was close; so fucking close.

you nod your head, watching him stand to his feet. as simon walks over, he slows his roll a bit, enough to ensure he won't spill right then and there. you remain in the same position, except for the hand you place on his waist, running your palm up and down his abdomen to give him for stimulation.

he stands beside the bed, his clean hand reaching out. his thumb brushes against your lip, giving your bottom one a slight drag — then slipping between them and running along your gums, allowing you to tongue along his finger like you would his cock.

the sticky, gummy texture of your mouth — like that of your entrance clenching around him. and your caress, like you always did when he hit spots deep inside. your small contributions allowed his imagination to do the rest of the heavy lifting.

you palmed his abs, maintaining eye contact to give him every bit of this otherwise touchless act. but your hand along his stomach was enough, as was playing with your mouth; enough to push him turbulently over that edge.

a string of curses poured from simon's lips, just like the globs of cum that followed quickly after. into his palm, he released his load, hips grinding against nothing until the overwhelming sensations ceased. his finger removed from your mouth with a pop, before he sped to the bathroom to wipe himself off.

a few moments later, he returned, finding you in the same position. it was quite a show, to put it lightly; not one you'll forget any time soon, either.

instead of standing like before, he knelt in front of the bed, sitting between your legs with his neck craned to look up at you. "that was alrigh' with you?" he asks again as if the 'damage' wasn't already done.

you nodded again, reassuring him once more, "of course, si. it doesn't bother me. and it's... a sight to see." you attempt a wink but look more like you're trying to get something out of your eye.

he scoffs at your attempt, taking both your hands — while simon's are icy and freshly smelling of the lavender soap in the washroom. despite your humor, it means a lot to be reassured by you. "christ, you are unbelievable, lovie. y'know tha'?" he teases, giving each of your knuckles a buss.

"i know it," you sneer, squirming slightly from the pecks. "but i still won't forget tonight. it'll keep me warm when you're away."

his brow cocks, and then comes a half-awkward chuckle. "you're a bloody tease, but i'm guessing you know that too, don't you? and a proper smart mouth."

you retort the same, having keen knowledge of how to press his fragile buttons. "what are you going to do? get the soap?"

"might have to." simon replies with faux sternness, even while speaking through a warm smile, the rough pads of his thumbs still rubbing your knuckles.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━♡━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ────have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ divider cred. - cafekitsune ｡･:*:･

#mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost headcanons #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost x reader #rachel speaks

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summerslashers · 9 months

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Invitation: Thomas Hewitt x Reader

Summary: Part two to Beginning. Thomas comes over to your house to give you a special invitation.

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: I’m sorry these are so short. I get terrible writers block :/ I hope you like it though

You sighed and used the back of your hand to wipe the sweat from your forehead. You had been moving and unpacking boxes all afternoon, and there were still plenty of them laying around the house or sitting on the porch, several too heavy for you to move on your own. You decided to take a quick break and make a pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade to cool yourself down. You immediately got to work cutting and squeezing lemons, creating a simple syrup, and combining it all in the large pitcher before filling it to the top with water. You were just finishing cleaning up the kitchen when a loud knock startled you.

You walked over to the front door, opening it to see a familiar half-masked face, the man taking up almost the entirety of your doorway. He stood there awkwardly, his fingers twitching at his sides- a nervous habit of his. You smiled up at him brightly.

“Thomas,” you said warmly. “It’s really nice to see you again. Please come in if you’d like-”

He hesitated for a moment, looking into your gentle eyes that gazed at him so fondly. Everything about you invited him in, and despite his nerves, he found that he couldn’t say no to you. Instead, he nodded and you stepped aside, allowing him ample room to join you in your small kitchen/ dining area. You shut the door behind him.

“I just made some lemonade.” You smiled and stepped into the kitchen, an open area to the left of your front door. “Would you like a glass?”

Once again, he seemed uncertain, fidgeting with his hands and struggling to make eye contact. He wasn’t used to being offered nice things. He really didn’t know how to respond. Of course he wanted some lemonade, but he didn’t want to bother you. You could tell that it was worrying him, and you offered a sympathetic smile the next time his eyes met yours.

“I’ll pour you a glass, okay? I promise I don’t mind.” He nodded and you filled two tall glasses with ice, pouring a generous serving of lemonade in each one.

You walked over to him with a glass in each hand and offered him one. He accepted it with a grateful look in his eyes, bringing it to his lips and gulping down the entire glass. You smiled, happy that he liked it. You offered to pour him more, taking the glass gently from his hand and walking back to the counter where the pitcher sat.

“Sorry about the mess in here.” You refreshed his ice and filled his glass to the top with lemonade. “I still have a lot to put away.”

There were boxes strewn about the floor, some half unpacked and others not even opened yet. Each had different labels on them in your handwriting for the different rooms in the house. You returned his glass, taking a sip of your own and savoring the cold, sweet drink.

“So,” you smiled, standing in front of the large man. “What brings you over?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper, handing it to you. You set your drink down on your small dining table just behind Thomas. Then, you opened the note, and in a familiar handwriting- the one from the back of Thomas’ baby photo- it read, ‘We’d love to have you over for dinner this evening. 6 o’clock. -The Hewitt Family’.

You grinned up at Thomas. “I’d love to join your family for dinner.”

Tommy felt a familiar warmth in his chest. Your smile never failed to give him butterflies or bring a blush to his cheeks. He was happy- more than happy that you accepted the invitation to dinner. He was sure his mama was going to love you. How could she not? You were so wonderful and kind and caring. Besides, the whole family was appreciative of the cookies you made and mama thought the flowers were very cute.

“I just need a little bit of time to get ready and I’ll be there,” You glanced over at the clock. You had about three hours. You looked around at the boxes in the house. You were hoping to finish unpacking today, but you supposed it could wait. There was one slight problem though.

“Hey Thomas?” You looked up at him, suddenly a bit anxious. “Could I maybe ask a favor of you?”

Thomas looked back at you with soft eyes and nodded. Of course you could. You could ask him anything.

“Thank you so much,” you smiled. “Before you go, I was wondering if you could help me move these two boxes inside? They’re sitting on the porch and I’m having a really hard time moving them myself-”

As soon as you said the words, Thomas went to work immediately, stepping out and onto your front porch. You followed behind him with a happy skip in your step, pointing to the two boxes that sat over by the railing. He nodded, lifting them both with a sharp exhale through his nose. You gaped at him, finding yourself at a complete loss of words as heat rose to your cheeks. Those boxes were very heavy, and he picked up both like it was nothing. You stepped out of his way as he entered the house.

“You can just set them anywhere,” you told him.

He set them down gently near your small, circular dining table, standing back up with a small huff. His eyes met yours and you beamed at him, making his heart skip a beat. You were too cute.

“You’re so strong, Thomas. Thank you so much for helping me.”

He felt that oh so familiar warmth in his chest when you complimented him. He was often criticized for his brute strength rather than praised. People who met or knew him would call him things like ‘monster’ or ‘animal’, but when you called him strong, he knew you meant it in a good way. It made him happy.

The two of you parted ways after you thanked him several more times for his help and let him know that he was more than welcome to come over anytime he wanted. Then, three hours later, you were showered, dressed nicely, and standing on the porch of the Hewitt home with a hot apple pie.

#thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #tommy hewitt #tommy hewitt x reader #leatherface x reader #leatherface #Tcm #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm the beginning

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artemiseamoon · 5 months

Text

What the heart wants

Pero Tovar x F Reader*

🤶🏾🎁Secret Santa fic ✨ for @blueeyesatnight !!! ✨ Happy holidays! (event hosted by @pedrostories )

Read below * or on A03

Words: 7,621

Summary: As Spring rolls around, you find yourself content with your life. Business is successful, you have all the independence you want and good friends to share life with. A man wasn't something you needed or were seeking at the time as occasional lovers fulfilled your primal urges. But it was clear, life had other plans as a handsome but dirty mercenary blew through your doors.

Warnings: some canon period misogyny (not much), Pero 😂, language, brothel mention & mild sexual content.

*Reader notes: there are some details!!! So it’s not a completely blank slate; reader is female, in her upper 30s, sturdy/curvy built (visualize as you please) & often wears pants not dresses. No skin tone/race mentioned but she does understand & speak some Spanish. *Feel free to read as an OC if you prefer*

AN: If you already know me, you know I no longer crosspost to this site, nor write reader inserts. Since this is a special occasion, it’s both a RC & crossposted (here & on my A03) 😁 happy reading! This was so fun to write.

You

Holding the cuff to the afternoon light, you examined your work closely, feeling satisfied with the end result. Growing up the daughter of a blacksmith, you learned several things, and though you could make a sword, you quickly found you preferred making jewelry; it filled you with joy, especially when you saw the end result and the look on people's faces.

You had kitchenware under your belt too, it was the kind of thing that always bought in coin, as it was a needed everyday item. Currently, you are perfecting your skills in armor making. You started to learn back in your early 20s, now in your late 30’s you could create decent work, but you wanted to be better. Never one to back down from a challenge, you made it your newest goal.

You just set the new cuff aside when the small bell chimed, filling the halls with the familiar sound. Stepping away from the desk, you peeked out of the doorway and down the hall, where you had a straight shot of the front door.

You quirked a brow as a man you’ve never seen before stalked in, the wind sweeping inside with him, along with a bad mood like a dark cloud overhead. Upon first glance, he almost seemed inconvenienced, yet you saw him walk in alone, no one forced him.

He was handsome with dark features, but dirty, and needed a good shave. The stranger wore the kind of scowl that would keep people ten feet away from him. His attire and the double swords strapped to his back gave his profession away, a mercenary. They often traveled through these parts en route to somewhere else and stayed a night or two; it made good coin for the local businesses when they did.

You thought about revealing yourself but chose to watch him a little longer. You observed him as he moved deeper into the shop, his eyes moving about the place as he took it in.

He scratched his beard, grumbling something you couldn’t hear, as he touched and poked at things along the way. He was a fascinating creature to watch, and one of the best-looking men you’ve seen in a long time, even under all the dirt and grime, and the sharp chip on his shoulder. That’s when you noticed the scar, one that made you curious about the how, and made him even hotter at the same time.

Even his walk was attractive, he seemed more like a wild animal than a man, like a feral wolf just wandered into your shop and right into your hands.

Pero (minutes ago)

Dragging his feet, Pero made his way through the town, eyeing signs on doors and windows, looking for work. He was tired, bone tired, his back hurt like all hell, his ass was numb from being on his horse so long, and he was annoyed. He was starving, he ran out of rations early this morning and was running on a piece of stale bread at the moment. He’d try one more place, then get some damn food, followed by a room, a bath, and a whore.

He was about halfway down the block when he noticed the blacksmith sign. In his half hour here, it seemed West Meadow had no work for him requiring his swords, but a man could always be useful in a shop like that.

Pero entered, his stomach grumbling and fighting with him. He expected to see a forge as soon as he walked in but was met with a plain room with a simple desk, two chairs, and a long table. Ahead was a hallway that likely led to some other rooms. The smells of iron, steel, wax, and fire met his nose, there was definitely a forge, maybe in the back.

Where the hell was everyone?

Patience wasn’t a friend of his. He called out and was only met with his own echo.

Cursing under this breath, he decided to ditch this plan for now, and just get some food. A door opened in the distance. He turned, expecting to see a man appear, but a man it wasn't.

Pero tilted his head to the side as his eyes raked over you. You were beautiful, with a face that was downright distracting, but that wasn’t all, when you smiled, you nearly knocked his bad mood right out of him. Your smile was so full and bright that he finally understood what that stupid saying, bright as the sun, meant.

You were well-built, sturdy, and curvy in the right places. That was clear even with the heavy apron you wore. Pero raised his eyes back to your own. Even the smudges on your face and a mask over your hair didn’t take away from your beauty.

Pero regained his composure, then asked gruffly, “who's in charge?”

Your smile dropped, “well, hello to you too.”

“Where’s your husband or father?”

“Are you serious?” you rested a hand on your hip.

His eyes dropped to your hand, you were wearing gloves, so he didn't know if you wore a ring or not, “Brother?”

An irritated laugh fell out of you as you shook your head.

“Unless…” he started, “you’re alone here?”

“I am the owner, you ass.” you held up your hands, then tore off a glove, “no husband either!”

He looked at you with disbelief in his eyes, “a woman alone, here? "his accent coming out even more now.

“Yes,” you growled back at him, growing more agitated.

Your initial sunny demeanor was gone, now you were like a cat with your claws out.

“Lo siento, “he held out a hand as he apologized like he was trying to calm a bull, “I’m just looking for work.”

He had a lot of questions.

A woman was usually married, which you weren’t, taken, or would be under her father's supervision, which you weren’t either. Or a whore, which you didn’t seem to be. You also claimed to run this business on your own, which was unusual. And you didn’t have a man guarding the door either, you were strange in fact, very strange.

“Not hiring,” you replied in Spanish, which made him raise a brow at you. “You can go now.”

You & Pero

What an ass.

You thought, sure he was hot, and you were very intrigued, but you didn’t need the attitude or the barbaric mindset. There were enough assholes in town who had opinions about you, and the kind of life you should live. You didn’t need some dirty mercenary putting his two cents in the matter.

You only made it a few steps away from him before stopping, you could feel him lingering, his eyes on you. You doubled back. You assessed him with your eyes and pulled the mask fully off your head.

Maybe he could be useful, you thought. “What are you good at?”

He smirked, taking a half step your way, “You really the boss?”

“Yes.” you hissed.

“Swords, blades, knives.” he paused, his eyes still on yours, even as he pointed at his suit, “repairs.”

“Hmmm,” you crossed your arms while continuing to study him. “I do all that. No need for you.”

He chuckled. Yeah, he liked you, he liked you a lot. Before he could stop himself, he asked,

“Is this really your place? No man is hiding back there?”

You rolled your eyes and pointed to the door, “see the name on the fucking sign, that’s my last name. My father is too old to work, I have no brothers, this place is mine. Got a problem with that?”

He smirked, liking the sass, this kitty scratches. “No problem.”

You locked in a stare with him, almost getting distracted by his eyes, you could lose yourself in them. In the back of your mind, you thought about the long list of things you had to do, and an extra hand around here might be good, but you weren’t sure if you’d reveal that to him yet.

You pointed to the door, “I’ll think about it. Come back tomorrow.”

Pero was about to say something when the door opened, he turned to see a man enter, then quickly looked at you again, seeing your smile return. Damn, it was a sight to see.

The man moved right past Pero like he wasn’t there and went straight to you. As you greeted each other, you pulled a pouch out of your apron and revealed a metal wristband.

“I was just about to send word, it’s finished,” you display your work proudly.

Pero grinned, a woman metalsmith, how odd. You continued to intrigue him by the second.

“Lovely work as always,” the man said your name while admiring it.

Your eyes darted to Pero’s. “Tomorrow,” you repeated sharply.

Pero huffed, then saw himself out.

Early Evening, The Three Bucks Inn & Tavern

As Pero parked himself at a table off to the side, he took in his surroundings. The Tavern was busy with locals, and a few people who looked like visitors.

“Can I get ya anything?” the barmaid asked as she stopped by this table, she spoke over the crowd, making sure he could hear her.

“Food and ale,” Pero answered while slapping the silver coins on the table.

She pocketed the coins. “Anything else?”

Pero sat back, really looking at her this time. The woman was good-looking, a little thin for him, he preferred them thicker. Like that woman from the shop, you were sturdy, you could handle him. He shrugged the thought away. A whore would be better anyway, get in, get laid, go to bed.

“A room and a whore,”

He’d been on the road for months, he needed to fuck a woman as bad as he needed a good bath and a shave. Plus, a good night's sleep, on a bed for once. He was getting older; all the years had taken their toll on his body. He was still skilled and quick on his feet, but he required more rest now.

“I’ll get ya a bed.” she pointed toward the door, “Take a left past the carriage house. Walk till you reach the end of West Street. Madame Mae’s is the last house on the corner. No missing it. Red door. Just about as subtle as you are.”

Pero frowned as the woman left to fulfill the order.

He was looking forward to a hot meal, real food, not the shit he was surviving on for the last few months. He hoped the whores at Mae’s were decent, he’d fuck what he could get, but someone nice to look at would be even better.

Well, you would be better. He tried to put you out of his mind, but like a phantom, you wouldn’t leave, he kept thinking about your smile, your form, and the way you shot venom with your eyes when he pissed you off. If you know how to forge metal, you could likely use a sword too, and the thought made his cock twitch.

The whore would have to do it, but you would be better.

Later, Pero

Now that Pero had a bath, a shave, and a satisfactory fuck with a decent whore, a good night's rest was next. But it was still a little early and he was feeling restless.

Mierda

Maybe he should have gone with William. But what the fuck would he have done with himself? His blonde-haired friend had done the foolish thing of falling in love and doubled back to the place they left behind nearly a year ago. After they left the wall, they spent months on the road, taking jobs and for Pero at least, trying to get China out of his mind.

Pero’s solo journey wasn’t going so well, and if had to spend another 3-5 months on horseback, starving, cold, horny, and bearing the weather, he’d kill someone. A lot of someones.

Pero wanted to stop moving, just for a little while, make some money at the same time. A lot of money, preferably. He already spent most of this year and last on the move, and if this town had no work, he’d just drag himself to the next.

Soon his restlessness, and busy mind led him to leave the bed. Leaving the inn, he stepped out onto the street, the townspeople were enjoying the weather, and the night market was still going, though some vendors were starting to pack up.

Pero only walked a few minutes before he saw you again. You were chatting with a vendor, a woven basket in one hand, full of various items. You were dressed in a dark tunic tucked into dark pants and boots, with a blade holstered to your right thigh. He expected to see you in skirts outside of the shop, but again, you were no ordinary woman, not by any stretch.

Pero lingered in the background, watching, soon he heard your laugh for the first time. Fuck, it was wonderful, just as wonderful as your smile. You were both the sweetest thing he’d ever seen, and mean as a snake when pressed, you also looked like you could throw a punch, and he liked that.

As the vendor made you laugh again, Pero felt something else and wanted to kick himself for it. He spent a total of 5 minutes with you, what the fuck did he have to be jealous about? He chalked it up to his sleep-deprived state, and maybe needing to get laid again tomorrow - that should calm him down.

There you were, his shadow, and all it took was 5 minutes. He thought about you all day, in the bath while he jerked off, and even when he fucked that whore. Pero felt ridiculous. Maybe William wasn’t the foolish one, maybe it was him.

Before he could stop himself, his feet were moving as he made his way over to you.

You

You felt eyes on you the whole time but could finally pinpoint the source. There he was, coming your way. All dark and broody and sexy as hell and cleaned up.

“Oh, the brute. Are you stalking me?”

He grunted, “No.”

“Sure?” You smirked as you shifted the basket to your other hand. “Because stalking is not a good way to get hired. In fact, it’s creepy.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, cariño. If I want a woman, I pay a whore.”

You raised your brows at him, what you were feeling wasn’t offense, it was something you couldn’t put your hands on.

“Well, the next time you go, why don’t you ask for a job. Maybe they’re hiring.” Without giving him time to respond, you were off, taking long strides away from him.

No matter how hot he was, he was irritating as hell. Brute, yeah, that was a good fit and that's what he was. The last thing you needed was to get involved with a guy like him.

No. Do not go there, you remind yourself. Even if he was hot as sin.

The next day, You and Pero

You were just setting up for a ring you’re working on, then the bell chimed.

It was much too early for clients, and there was only one person you could think of who would be here right now. You weren't sure if you hoped it was him, or dreaded the possibility. Leaving the work desk, you stepped out into the front room and saw him standing there.

“Ugh.” You sighed then headed back into the other room.

In the back of your mind, you thought of bringing your dogs next time, so they could watch the front door.

Pero took it upon himself to follow you inside. You leaned against the desk with crossed arms.

“What?”

“You said come back tomorrow.”

You were listening, well, half listening. He looked even better than he did yesterday, in the light of day, you could fully appreciate all the grooming he did.

As you noticed last night, he got a haircut, but it was still long enough to grab, to run your finger through. Unable to stop yourself, your eyes slid down his face, over his excellent bone structure, the cleaned-up beard, and down to his neck, even that part of him was sexy. You could feast your eyes on him for hours.

“Happy to see me?” He smirked, stopping in front of you, enjoying the way you greedily took him in.

“Not really,”

Pero's stance was confident, eye contact unwavering. “You need my help. Hire me.”

“What? So, you could protect me from men and beasts? I have a feeling you are both.”

He chuckled, fully amused, “I could,” he shrugged, “I am.”

“Besides, I’ve been in my share of fights. I’m good with sharp things.”

Fuck, Pero thought, your words hitting him right in his core and going lower. You were special.

“The team we’d make then, why not have the best swordsman on your grounds?”

You uncrossed your arms, "and you’re full of yourself, what a winner. I don’t need your help.”

Pero scoffed. “You’re short a man. Injury.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, how did he know that?

Auden hurt his arm pretty bad last week, it was mainly you and him here, he was your main employee. You had two apprentices, but they weren’t where they needed to be yet, you were carrying the bulk of work on your shoulders. This handsome, grumpy stranger did his homework.

Still, he irritated you, so you said, “I don’t need you. You can go now.”

Pero hated that. He didn’t mean to be so rough when he reached out to grab your wrist, but he didn’t like being dismissed.

He didn’t even know what he was going to say, just grabbed you, making you spin around to face him. Your eyes burned with anger and something else more sensual behind that. Before he could speak, you slapped him, clear across the cheek. He was more impressed than mad.

As he rubbed his face and chuckled, you grabbed an unfinished blade from the table and pressed the sharp edge to his neck. His brown eyes widened as he stared at you.

“Get the fuck out.” You warned through gritted teeth.

Your lips, that’s where his eyes went, even with a blade to his throat.

Instead of a fight, a counter move, or a slew of curses, Pero's sultry gaze lingered on your lips, then met your eyes again. Despite yourself, you stole a glance of his mouth, and those kissable lips of his.

Sure, the mercenary was a pain in the ass. Whatever depths of hell dragged this man to your front door, you didn’t know. He was like a dog who kept coming back and you didn’t totally hate that. In fact, you -

The bell over the front door chimed as a customer came in. You both heard it, yet remained locked in a tense lust-filled stare. When you licked your lips, simply to moisten them, his eyes followed the movement. The bastard didn’t even flinch with the blade to his neck.

Why have a whore when he could have you? Pero thought, the idea followed by images that awakened him in other places.

“Hello?” The patron called out your name, you knew who it was by voice alone.

“One minute,” you shouted back, eyes still on Pero.

“Repairs, the two blades I told you about,” they said from beyond the door.

“I start now,” Pero stated with a smug grin.

“Are you fucking serious?”

He chuckled, finding your astonishment cute. Pero took one more indulgent, long look at you then stepped out into the main room.

Unable to move, the blade still in your hand, you stared at the door. Did he really just walk in here, hire himself, then look at you like you were a steak dinner? Yeah, he did.

“Pendejo.” You cursed, then pushed the door open. “I don’t even know his name…”

Two weeks later, You & Pero

Pero continued to annoy and intrigue you at the same time. He was a good worker, skilled, able to repair things and even knew how to make swords and blades. It was impressive.

He wasn’t a warm guy, which was obvious from first impressions, an acquired taste really. You kept him away from interacting with customers because of his harsh, curt demeanor, leaving him to mainly work in the workshop and behind the scenes, while you handled the front of the house, you, or your apprentices Nura and Robert.

You liked Nura the most, not that Robert was bad, he was a fast learner, and attentive worker. It was just extra special training another woman. You enjoyed seeing her defy the social norms and carve out her own path, same as you. You saw her like a little sister.

Everything ran smoothly at the shop, but the two of you still didn't know much about each other on a personal level. Pero didn’t talk about himself, or his life, nor did you.

Having him around gave you more free time, and you used some of that to dive into your other love, herbalism. One of your dreams was to open an apothecary, the town already had one, but you wanted your own, and you already knew how to make yours extra special.

This dream was on your mind when you cleared out a back room in the building and started to play around with tinctures and blends on your downtime. Pero made little comments along the way when he saw you in there, they gave you a few clues about him.

Being on the road, he knew a few things and recognized some of the herbs. He had a comfort there, but when you were creating potions as he called it, you noticed he’d get a little freaked out, and it didn’t take long to figure out he had a thing about magic and witches.

You weren’t a witch, but you knew how to make some things, and some days, just to fuck with him, you exaggerated.

- Flashback, to a few days ago -

You only stepped away for a moment but returned to see Pero observing the jars from a distance. He stopped at a corked bottle with an unusual purple hue, and some kind of clawed root at the bottom.

Pero picked it up cautiously, then put it down, “what kind of witchery is this?”

You leaned against the wall and crossed your arms in a relaxed way, “ingredients to turn you into a dragon.”

Pero whipped around to you with a suspicious look, “Are you joking?”

“Yes,” you laughed, “unless, you piss me off.”

“I always piss you off.”

"You better be careful then. And stop leaving your hair around, I’m collecting it.”

As you laughed and walked out of the room, he ran his palm over his hair, which only made you laugh more.

- Flashback over -

Three weeks later, Pero

The tavern was alive, packed wall to wall, and the revelry high; it was a special night as you threw Nura a birthday party.

Pero didn’t do parties, but it was better than sulking in his room alone, and he was pretty tired of the whores at Mae’s. He’s been here over a month now, fucked most of them all, and it did little to calm what he really needed and wanted, you.

Whenever he saw you laughing, having a good time, or flirting he was tempted to march over and claim you for himself, to kiss you in front of everyone and make it clear he would cut the head off any man who tried to win your affection.

Pero was sure you were attracted to him, he caught the stolen glances, still you never made a move or voiced your attraction. He knew you weren’t shy. Was it him? Were you doing this to torture him? What a wicked witch you were.

Even when he had two whores the other night, it only took the edge off. How you haunted him so. He felt defeated, maybe? But he wasn’t a quitter. He’d get you all for himself somehow. Pero wished William was here, the blonde would give him advice, advice he needed because Pero wasn’t good at shit like this.

Fighting, fucking, eating, and drinking, be had that down. But trying to win a woman’s heart, he had no fucking idea how to do that. He had to do this right. He didn’t want you just once, he wanted you for good.

Could it be, were you his...princesa? No. You weren't a princess. You we're tough. You looked after yourself and made your own way in life. No, reina, that's more fitting.

Where’s the Irishman when I need him? I could use your help amigo.

As a drunk man bumped into his table, Pero scowled at him, then lost himself in thought again, downing his ale at the same time. Things you like, yes, he’d start there. Women like gifts, right?

He noticed you enough at the markets to know some things, including your favorite dessert at the bakery. Good. A plan. He nodded to himself, then stood. He stole one more glance of you, across the way and having a good time, then made his way out of the tavern.

The next morning

Your head was spinning, too much ale. To make up for that, you pushed your work back to the afternoon and planned to take a nap upstairs once Pero got in. Last night came to mind, he was there, then he wasn’t. You were surprised he even came.

“Speak of the devil,” you said while rubbing your temples.

Pero nodded, looking a bit awkward, then put the bag he was holding for dear life on the desk. “Here.”

You poked the bag, “what is this?”

He scratched his temple, his brown eyes looking puppy-like, “uh, that sweet round thing, with cream and berries.”

You grinned, “from the bakery?”

“Sí.”

You bite back a full smile, then open the bag, “is poisoned?”

Pero sighed and then started to walk away.

“I’m joking!” you shouted back at him, “thank you Pero.”

He glanced back, and you swore you could see a little smile on his closed lips.

The week would be full of surprises. It started on Monday when he got your favorite dessert from Sweets n Breads Bakery. He was kind of awkward all day, didn’t say much to you, and seemed wrapped up in his own thoughts.

On Tuesday, there was another pastry waiting for you, and some of your to-do list was already completed. He explained he worked late and decided to get more done.

On Wednesday, you arrived to another pastry, and flowers with dirt and roots still attached, flowers you were sure he tore from someone's garden on the way over. Soil was all over the place, and you had to dust it off your papers.

He didn’t hand them to you directly, just busied himself in the forge while they sat on your desk. You waited until he was free to ask him about them. He was just finishing his lunch in the kitchen when you joined him.

“So, flowers.”

His eyes moved over you as he swallowed the last of his food, “women like flowers, yes? Even women who wear pants?"

Pero was panicking a little this morning, worried the pastry wasn't enough. On the way to work, he saw a guy give a girl flowers, and then get a kiss in return, so he figured, why not try. Even if he felt like a damn fool doing it.

You could see his mind going as you watched him. He was so cute, so innocent in this moment, you could kiss him right there. You also knew from the mix of flowers, they were from Mrs. Jennings' garden, and she was likely throwing a fit right now.

“Ever give a girl flowers before?” you asked as you sat next to him.

“No,” he answered, his eyes on you.

“Well, thank you,”

He shrugged, playing it cool, but you could see in his eyes he was hoping you liked his gesture.

“And the pastry, it was delicious, you’re buttering me up, Pero.”

“You like them. Yes?”

“I do.”

He smiled and relaxed back in his chair.

You leaned in closer, playing with his collar, “I won't say it's working but - “ you plant a kiss on his cheek. His eyes lit up as he smiled wider. “I have work to do.” You got up, taking one more look at him before leaving the room.

Thursday

Nura was organizing something when Pero came in, he walked in like he was in a hurry, and spoke in a low tone,

“I have a question.”

She looked up at him with a smile, knowing it was about you.

At first, she thought Pero was an ass, which he is, but she liked him now, he grew on her, and when it came to you, he was kind of adorable and an idiot at the same time.

“If it's about flowers, Mrs. Jennings is on a warpath, I recommend you stop taking them before she bites your hand off. She may be old, but she's mean as hell.”

He nodded, then came around the desk to join Nura.

“What else does she like? Boots? I could buy her boots?"

“She likes practical things. Maybe something she could use.”

“She likes swords.”

“She loves them, maybe a little too much.”

“What if I make her one?”

“Pastries and flowers are nice, so are boots, but if you make her a custom sword, that may do the trick. No promises, just sayin.”

Pero nodded, he grumbled a thank you, then headed back to the forge. Robert passed him in the hall and joined Nura.

“That's a man on a mission, nearly ran me over.”

“He’s smitten.” she handed him a note, "the supplies.”

“Somehow he seems a little less - grumpy these days.”

“Little by little, but I think even if he is in a good mood, he’d still be grumpy.”

Robert hummed, “I still don't get why she likes him so much.”

“I think I do; they’d be cute together.”

Not agreeing, but not going to argue either, Robert just nodded, then made his way out with the list.

Days later

You weren’t supposed to come in today, so when you came through the door, rushing like a bat out of hell, it took Pero by surprise. Not just because he didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow, it was the dress that shocked him the most. In all his time here, dark colored tops, pants, and boots were how you dressed yourself.

“I’m not here, ignore me,” you shouted as you rushed past him, then Nura.

The younger woman caught a glimpse of Pero’s expression and laughed.

“She’s wearing a dress..."

“Once in a blue moon, for special occasions. Her childhood friend is getting married today.” Nura explained.

Pero’s brows raised higher as you appeared again, a pouch in hand.

“A dress-" he repeated, taking you in with his eyes.

You hiked up the dress, he got a flash of your legs as you carefully slid the pouch into your high boot.

As you smoothed the fabric down, Pero feasted on you. To see you like this, so feminine as the soft flowing fabric hugged your form and for the first time, he had a good look at your cleavage, the fabric cupping your breasts in a way the loose shirts never did; he was a man ready to pounce, to scale the counter and claim you then and there.

“Fuck-“ you cursed,

He laughed. Strong and independent, a mouth like a sailor. A lady, and a warrior in one. His perfect woman.

“Can’t believe I forgot this. I gotta go,” you started to breeze past them, then stopped as you locked eyes with Pero. You grinned, eyeing him with the same sultry gaze he sent your way. “Like it?” You asked while giving a teasing spin.

“Sí, you should wear more dresses.”

“Maybe one more this year, if you give me a good reason to,” you winked at him then dashed out of the door.

“That woman -“ Pero shook his head as he stared at the door.

“Oh you are far gone Pero,” Nura patted his arm, “just tell her already.”

“Tell her what ?”

“How you feel. I’m sure you’ve noticed; she has other suitors.”

“And I’ll fight them all.” He grew serious.

Dammit, the thought. He came here for work, rest and to get laid. He didn’t expect this, he didn’t plan to -

Nura’s light laugh pulled him out of his head. “Just tell her. She likes you too.”

“She flirts with me but makes no moves.”

“You really are adorable when confused.”

“Adorable? I’m not adorable.”

She chuckled, “Have you considered that she wants you to make the first move?”

“She’s no weak woman, she makes swords and wears pants.”

“That doesn’t mean she doesn't want to be perused, she takes charge daily, maybe she wants someone else, you, to take the lead this time.” She playfully tapped Pero’s head

He groaned and swatted her hand.

“Take the lead Pero, don’t overthink it,” Nura advised, then laid her hands on the counter. “We have a lot of work to do, ready?”

“Ready.”

As they headed back, he asked something he was curious about. He started by saying your name,

“Are you the same as her? No husband?”

“No, and there won’t be. I’m gay.” She answered.

Pero quirked a brow.

She added, “I like women. And I do have a girlfriend, the bartender at three bucks, with freckles.”

Ah, Pero thought, he’d seen her before.

“This is a strange place indeed,” he muttered, “I’ve never been to a place like this, with such women.”

“I like to think our town is special. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have people with opinions or those who accuse us of devil worship or witchcraft.”

“Are you, a witch?”

“I know some things, “she grinned, “can I watch you finish that armored plate before I start my work?”

Pero grinned, “Sí, vamos.”

The kid, well Nura wasn’t a kid, she was 25 now, but he called her that sometimes; she had given him some good advice about you and handled his moods with ease.

In Pero’s time here, Robert still wasn’t a fan of his, but they had no fights between them minus some minor disagreements. Your main guy, Audin, was still in recovery but came in from time to time to help with smaller things. His role reduced until he got better. Pero liked the guy, what little he saw of him.

In these weeks, Pero found himself most fond of Nura, she was like the little sister he never asked for. He could see why you liked her so much and why you took her under your wing.

A couple of weeks later

Pero studied his work with a sharp eye, searching for any imperfections.

Any other time he made a blade, it was robotic, just doing something he knew how to do, but this mattered more than any of those times. It had to be perfect because he was shit with words, he hoped he could hand you this and you would know all the things he wanted to say to you.

Months ago, if someone told him a woman like you existed, he would have laughed and called bullshit. But you were real, very real, and meant to be his. For you, he’d move into this town for good, put the long journeys to rest, and figure out all that shit he avoided all his life, like how to win a woman's heart and share his life with someone. He was sure he'd fuck up, a lot, piss you off, and get it wrong, but as long as he had you, he would keep trying to get it right.

Once the blade was packed up, he made his way to your house on the edge of town. He was nervous, more than he'd been in a long time, and he felt foolish. He wondered what Willaim would say if he saw him right now.

Pero stared at the door, part of him wanting to knock, and the other wanting to run, to turn around and get the hell out of here before he got himself even more wrapped up in this, in you.

It had to be witchery; how else would you have such a hold on him?

What are you waiting for, get moving, Pero heard in his friend's voice, phantom William pushing him forward. He could hear the dogs barking and coming his way in the distance.

Pero knocked on the door…

Once Pero was inside, you offered him a drink. He sat at your kitchen table as you poured ciders then went over to him.

“A home visit, what’s the special occasion?” you asked as you sat.

“Visiting the dogs." he smirked.

"Of course," you shook your head and took a drink.

Over the last few weeks, you’ve seen a new side of Pero emerge, and it made you like him more.

You’ve made the first move before and thought about doing that with him, but it would be so much more fun if he did it. You wanted him to charge in here and ravish you, and you were hoping today was the day, but the sense of nervousness you’re getting off of him makes you unsure.

“I have something for you,” he pulled a wrapped item from his pouch. He placed it on the table as his eyes met yours. “A gift.”

“Really?”

Pero watched, holding his breath as you unwrapped it, revealing the most perfect blade you’ve ever seen. Down to the handle, and the engravings. In the past, you made a few for yourself but always felt like you were missing something. Pero, this man sent to you from the universe, somehow got it right.

You held the blade, running your fingers over it, admiring it as your lips parted slightly in shock. At first, Pero was worried you didn’t like it, but as your eyes lit up, he relaxed and dropped his shoulders.

“Pero - “ you breathed, your eyes flicking to his, then back at the blade. “This is perfect.”

His small grin turned to a full smile and before you could say anything else, he dragged your chair closer to his with one hand. While cupping your cheek, Pero leaned in, bringing his lips to yours.

Smiling as he kissed you, you put the blade down and grabbed his arms. Pero drew you into his lap as the kiss deepened, intensifying with each pass of each other's lips.

His kiss was passionate, consuming, desperate and you could swear, your body was feeling all the things he wanted to say to you and was too afraid to say; the floodgates blasted open and as your hands roamed, finally exploring each other's bodies, you knew there was no going back after this.

"Mi reina, I'll fuck you on the floor if I have to. But it must happen now."

The hoarse desperation in his voice only made you hotter for him.

You tugged his hair while teasing another kiss, “I prefer a bed handsome. Follow me.”

“Gladly.”

You held out your hand, he took it. As you made your way to the bedroom, Pero latched on to you, kissing and biting at your neck, his hands moving over your breasts as his cock pressed against your ass.

Hours later

Laying on your stomach, Pero beneath you, you traced his scar with your fingertip. He looked as good as you imagined naked; he was delicious, and you allowed yourself to feast.

He had a map of scars from his legs up to his face, he was beautifully shaped, from his hands to his cock, to his broad shoulders and bone structure. If you could only have one man in your bed from here on out, you’d choose him.

Pero felt calmer than he had ever been, relaxed after the come down from your second round some time ago. The first was hot, rough, and fast, like wolves in heat under the full moon. The second time was less rushed and even more enjoyable.

You traveled the length of the scar, then met his gaze. "What’s this one from?”

“A time I was left for dead. The bastards tried to take my boots. I took their lives.”

You grinned, imagining him out in the field, and all his adventures.

A comfortable silence fell between you for a while, until Pero broke it.

“- quite the game we played cariño.”

“Wasn’t it,” you lay on his chest, planting a kiss on his chin, then on his lips, “but, who says it’s over?”

“Meaning?”

“I haven’t seen your sword skills yet, we must duel.”

He chuckled, shaking you both slightly as it rumbled through his chest, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, and…” you kiss him again, “there’s a whole list of fun games we could play.”

He quirked a curious brow.

“Well,” you nibbled his ear before telling him what was on your mind.

“Dios mio - “ he said with wide eyes.

“You know you like it,” you grinned, then kept going.

“I do,” he confirmed, caressing the back of your neck as the games you whispered got filthier and filthier.

God, you were speaking his language, and he wasn’t sure if you were real - well if he hadn’t just fucked you twice, which was more than worth the wait, he'd think this was magic, witches work, but you, and this, were all real.

You continued, spilling your dirty thoughts in his ear while now stroking his length with your hand.

Fuck, Pero thought, he’d keep you forever, even longer after that. You would never know another man because you were his.

Pero took hold of you, pulling you into an earth-shattering kiss before holding you against him.

“Good thing for you, I'm not going anywhere. You're mine now.”

You smiled against his chest, “I think I might not object to that.”

“Woman,” he groaned with a slight laugh,

“For you,” you looked up at him and weaved your fingers through his, “I'll make an exception.”

“Now that we’ve come to an understanding, I want food,” he sat up, pulling you with him, “then we fuck again.”

“I like the way you think.” You straddled his hips, teasing him a little before getting off. “Come on my ravenous beast, I made stew last night, and I must say, it's damn good.”

You slipped on the tunic and then made your way out of the room.

Pero slipped on his pants and followed, “as glad as I am to eat, I’m more excited about dessert.”

As you busied yourself gathering bowls, Pero watched from the doorway. As good as it felt to have you, as happy as it made him to see your reaction to the blade, he couldn't shake his sense of worry. When he said you were his, you replied with a maybe, well, not exactly, you said,

“I think I might not object to that.”

Might not

That didn’t sit right.

He was all in, dead serious about it. If you’d have him, there was no one after you. But if you were unsure -

Pero called your name, prompting you to glance over your shoulder at him with that heart-stopping smile of yours.

“Yes?”

His doubts felt stupid, with the way you’re looking at him now, the light in your eyes, that smile. Still, he needed to hear it, he needed to hear it from your lips.

Pero came over to you, you could tell his mood had shifted. With concern, you turned to him and took one of his hands in yours.

“What's wrong?”

“I mean it,” he said your name as he cupped your cheek with one hand, his eyes big, brown, and vulnerable as he stared into yours, “You’re mine.”

Your eyes softened on him even more, “lo sé.”

“Say it,” he demanded.

You slipped your other hand around his back, pulling him closer, “I’m yours, Pero.” you leaned in, brushing the tip of your nose to his, then nibbling his bottom lips. “and you are mines.”

The grunt that left him at your words was primal, like a wolf claiming his mate, and before you could say anything else his lips were on yours. That was all he needed, this was home now, you were his home, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

“What about dinner?” you giggled as he kissed the length of your neck and bunched the tunic over your hips.

“That can wait, I need you, now,” he growled, walking you backward to the table.

“Wow, I thought food was your first love,” you teased as you took his hardening length into your hands,

“It is, but now it has competition with you, mi amor.”

You smiled as he moved between your legs, “say it again.”

“Mi amor.” he threw the tunic across the room and quickly covered your breasts with his mouth,

You ran your fingers through his chocolate waves with one hand, guiding his cock inside of you with the other. You moaned together as he filled you,

“I love you too Pero,” you purred.

You closed your eyes, pleasure pulsing through your bodies as you moved your hips together. Thanking the stars and sky above for their gift to you; the very thing you didn't know you wanted in the form of a grumpy mercenary who stole your heart and set your soul on fire.

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More Pedro characters | More Pero

This was a special occasion, so I cross posted. Usually I just put previews on tumblr, all my other work goes to A03. You will need an account to view my archive. Lots of my older stuff 2019 - 2022, for now, is still on my master list here too.

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#Pero Tovar #pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories #Pero Tovar (The Great Wall)#pero tovar fanfiction #Pero Tovar x f reader #Pero tovar x curvy f reader #blacksmith Pero Tovar #by artemiseamoon #Arte Moodboards #fic: what the heart wants #blacksmith au #blacksmith f reader

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ruiniel · 3 months

Text

What You Choose

Fandom: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Pairing: Rengoku Kyojuro x f!reader

Count: 2K

Rating: T (M later)

Part I

Summary: Rengoku survives the fight with Akaza, but some battles are not so straightforward.

Tags & Warnings: Rengoku lives AU, blood, injury, death, pining, angst, second person POV, demon slayer!reader, tsuguko!reader, Rengoku POV, eventual smut

Author Note: I am not OK and will never be OK about *waves hands* all that, so this is now a multichapter story.

II.

“Once again, you’re a guest in my healing ward.”

Kocho Shinobu speaks softly, as is her manner. She's seated by his bed with the afternoon sun shining gently on her features, highlighting the amethyst in her hair and eyes.

“I seem to be the only one,” Rengoku replies, looking at the empty infirmary. He’s still bedbound and can barely move his limbs. It hurts to breathe more often than not, and there’s a dull ache where his left eye used to be.

Her kind smile never falters as Kocho looks at the liquid in the syringe she’s preparing. Rengoku always admired her decision to honor her late sister this way, by holding on to that smile Kanae loved so much. After all, everyone has a keepsake of their loved ones in their heart, driving them forward. Memories, moments, words that hone one’s spirit and meld with determination, acting as a guiding light in the darkest places. He knows this all too well.

“At least you won’t be lonely during your convalescence, those three have been coming here every day, even before you’d awoken.” She giggles, seeking a vein in his arm.

Oh, of course… young Kamado… the boar lad, the yellow-haired boy. All of them gifted, resilient, and unwavering. He’d promised to train them, but…

That was… before.

Another image appears before his mind’s eye, drenched in fog—you, running towards him. He, ordering you not to interfere. “Kocho. Tell me, please. How long before I can leave this bed? What is lost, what can I regain?”

She sets the used syringe aside on a tray, then places her hands on her knees. “My, my, impatient already?”

Rengoku tries a smile of his own, though it hurts the muscles in his face. If not for the strong sedatives and painkillers administered to him since he regained consciousness, he imagines he’d be squirming in pain. “I want to self-assess myself. Besides…I have promises to keep.”

She understands. He knows she does. The Insect Hashira gazes out the window, and a small sigh leaves her chest. “Your fatal injuries have been healed by the peculiar blood demon art of young Kamado’s sister.”

He nods. Remarkable. He thought that would be his last battle, and he’d have passed without regret into the land of Yomi. Nevertheless, his gratitude is boundless.

“... your muscle and organ tissue has regenerated and there was no internal bleeding. However, there is still some damage to several vertebrae in your spine, severe trauma to your head I’ve not fully assessed yet, and you have eight fractured ribs.”

“Hah, I can feel them, too! I miscalculated by one, I thought there were seven.”

She looks his way, with that odd expression people sometimes have when he sounds unreasonably high-spirited. He supposes not everyone shares the same outlook, and that’s all well. But what use is there to bow down in dismay and accept the worst life throws my way?

“Your left eye was smashed, and irrecoverable,” Kocho goes on. “We removed it with surgery and placed an implant inside to fill the empty eye socket. The recovery period in these cases is typically a year, as now you must adapt to your monocular status. But this also depends on the individual, and… this might mean alterations to your fighting style, of course.” She rises and picks up the tray. “I’m convinced that with time, you can return to a state allowing you to perform your duties. For now, please rest, that is a foremost priority.”

My friend, you know all too well that time is never on a demon slayer’s side. “Thank you, Kocho.” She is right, though: he does feel exhausted, as though he’d climbed a mountain without rest or ever reaching the summit. Expected, though bothersome.

“We’ll do our best to help your recovery. Aoi will return later to change your bandages,” Kocho adds.

Rengoku turns his head as Kocho greets someone on her way out, and sees you, standing in the doorway. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

“You heard?”

You nod, nearing the bed. “Ms. Kocho told me of it all while you were asleep.”

“I’m sorry.”

You tilt your head in bemusement. “What ever for?”

“Because, I won’t be able to help with your training for a while.”

You’ve been at his side often. While in a coma, even if he couldn’t react, even if his body wouldn’t listen, he knew you were there. The thought is a warm one, a foreign sensation: different from the heat bursting in his body during a fight. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look forward to your visits even now, to see how you’re faring, to hear the latest news on the Corps.

“No,” your voice brings him out of his thoughts, “but that does mean I can help you. When you’re ready, that is,” you add quickly. “With rehabilitation training.”

“Of course!” The fatigue in his body is stubborn, clinging to him like heavy wet wool. “And… I don’t believe I’ve told you this yet: I’m happy you returned safely.”

You look away, appearing utterly miserable. It confuses him. Rengoku’s seen that shadow in his father’s eyes countless times, so often he can’t stand it: self-loathing.

“Forgive me, Master. I should have been able to do more, after all you strived to teach me. I… I could barely be of any use.”

But you were there, you helped protect all those people. You did your part. “You were unflinching, fast, and aided those who needed it precisely like I taught you. You are rank Kinoe, and what's your demon kill count?”

“Thirty-two.”

“There… now that I think about it, even without further guidance from me or anyone else, you’ll make Hashira soon! Our numbers are dwindling while demon activity increases. You’ve seen it. This is a struggle that needs all of us.” Rengoku pauses. The word ‘need’ felt odd coming from his mouth. But the statement is true. Why does it feel incomplete when he says it to your face?

You look down at your hands. “How can you do it?”

He blinks, frowning. “Do what?”

“Be so supportive and encouraging even when you’re lying broken in an infirmary bed. Sometimes… sometimes you are so very strange, Master.”

You do say that to him often, though less so than before. A smile trembles on your lips—it took you a long time to smile again, he recalls.

“I merely speak the truth…” He can barely stay awake. The slow drip of liquid in the IV infusion is magnified, drowning out all other sounds, and your face becomes hazy as he drifts away.

Three years prior

The path of blood leads straight into the farmhouse, looking as though someone had been dragged inside by force.

His eyes narrow, and he centers his breaths as he walks forward with his blade drawn. The silence of the glade is eerie, the reek of decay nauseating in the heat of this humid summer.

Soon, he stands on the threshold. Two, there might be two of them. Near the farmhouse is a toolshed, he’ll look there next. Rengoku covers his mouth with his sleeve, eyes closing in pain.

The bodies lie there, some with scattered limbs. This was a family, no doubt about it. The brutality of the mutilation makes his stomach turn, but Rengoku steels his resolve, extending his senses for any hint of the entity’s presence: there is none. He sheathes his katana and enters the space proper. Three hours until dawn.

He descends to one knee, finding the fireplace in the middle is out, but the ashes are still warm. The tatami mats are sticky and stained dark. This all transpired recently. He reaches out a hand, touches an inert arm: not yet cold. Too late, I am too late. But I’ll find you, wherever you are, you damn beasts.

It’s only due to his reflexes, honed with endless hours of training, that he turns around fast enough, leaping backward before the descending attack.

At first, he thinks it’s the demon, his katana at the ready.

“Don’t you dare touch them!”

He pauses, nearly too late in avoiding the second strike. A girl’s voice, a human’s heartbeat. His arm shoots out, catching the wooden staff in a strong grip.

You’re panting, eyes wild and glimmering in the moonlit night. “Let—go!”

“Wait, I’m not an enemy!” he says, taking a better look at you, still holding your makeshift weapon even as you try to wrest it from his hand.

“How do I know that! Demon!” Your voice is hoarse. Half your face is caked in drying blood, and there must be multiple injuries on your body judging by the torn clothing and the widening dark stains.

“I’m not a demon,” he speaks calmly but urgently. “I hunt them. Please, they may still be close.”

You jerk your chin towards a corner of the room. “I had him… I don’t need you. Get out of my home!” you yell, more desperate with each word. “Get out, get out, get out!”

Another body lies there in the dark, slitted pupils dark against its milky eyes. The head had been nearly completely crushed. Rengoku freezes in disbelief. You did this? Alone? “Wait, you don’t understand, there’s another—”

A loud crash severs his words as the ceiling collapses, and he barely has time to leap forward, catch you in his arms, and throw himself outside. He rolls onto the ground, pain erupting in his left shoulder with the impact. When he opens his eyes you’re there, safely held against him, face tearstained and body rigid with shock.

But there’s no time to explain further—he feels it. The gurgle of inhuman hunger as a figure emerges from the wreckage of the farmhouse, eyes fixed on them. It does not speak, but growls in hunger; it must be of the feral kind, no reasoning left as the transformation rotted its memories.

Rengoku rises, changing his stance. “Stand back,” he urges, looking over his shoulder at you as you struggle with your own body. He looks back ahead, grinds his teeth, his breathing attuned to his thought.

First Form: Unknowing Fire.

It doesn’t last long. He’s been running from mission to mission, dispensing with different kinds of fiends, and this was yet another run in a long chain that will only end with his own life.

Once the head is removed, the battle is over. Sometimes there is someone left to check on after the fact; often, there isn’t. But now, Rengoku hurries towards you, descending and slipping a hand under your back, aiding you to sit. “Where are you hurt?”

“Thank you,” you say instead, eyes glazing over. He hopes the Kakushi will get here soon. You point towards your ruined home. “Set it ablaze… please.”

“Hey, hey, stay awake!” Rengoku urges even as your body turns heavier and your eyes roll back.

He expected this to come. Kneeling and with his forehead pressed to the ground he sits still, prostrated before the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps.

A voice like the lull of spring reaches him, setting his worries aside. In his heart, he thinks he’s done what is right.

“Rank Kinoe Rengoku Kyojuro, you are summoned to explain why you have brought a non-combatant to headquarters, instead of having the Kakushi transport them to a civilian hospital.”

“Master, the girl shows extraordinary potential. Her family has been murdered by demons, and yet she managed to fell one before I arrived, alone, despite grievous wounds and bloodloss. Forgive me if I overstepped, but I believe…”

“Go on.”

“I believe once her body heals and her focus returns, she will join the fight. I believe she will want to. If I'm wrong, I accept all consequences.”

“You sound fairly convinced of this, young Rengoku,” says Ubuyashiki Kagaya. “Though there is no reason to know for certain one way or the other.”

He stays quiet, his heart raging in his chest. It will all depend on you, of course. You may want to have nothing to do with this.

“But… you’ve not failed us thus far. I will allow it.”

“Gratitude, Master.” And then, almost in the same breath, “If she chooses this, I will guide her myself.”

TBC

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x reader #kny #kyojuro rengoku #kny fanfic #ruiniel:fanfiction #x reader

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audreyscribes · 4 months

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Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS: 🦉 ATHENA: Goddess of Wisdom & Reason, of Strategy & Warfare, Crafts & Arts 🧠

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

When you get claimed, it's after a moment of brilliance. You could be giving someone an insightful observation, successfully mediating two opposing forces, creating your own invention, or when you successfully performed a maneuver. You’ve shown your intellect and Athena claims you at that moment.

The Athena cabin cheers for you and welcomes you in.

You look in awe at the architectural structure of your cabin. You can tell the foundation and the base of the cabin was structured like the rest of the other cabins, but over the years, it was elevated.

You’re shown where you’ll be sleeping but as you set up, you immediately clock in how everything is placed. All the bunks are pushed to the side, row by row and then there are desks lining along the same way with dual tables, and there are the rows of books and a workshop further in the back. You see inventions being made, architectural models, and more.

Among the children of Athena, you slowly figure out which intellectual you lean more towards: Educated (developing theories and plans), Productive (philosophy, literary criticism, sociology, law, medicine, etc), or an Artistic (literature, music, painting, sculpture, etc). Whichever you are or of those you find yourself in, you’re in good company.

If you want to bounce off ideas of someone, there’s no shortage of siblings to have a sound board of.

Whatever craft you find yourself in, you’re immediately put into consultation and you find yourself either being asked to get an input on or seeking input from others.

Fortunately and unfortunately, since demigods aren’t allowed to use the internet, your cabin is the next best option for Google.

Spider repellents everywhere. There’s not a single dust bunny in sight, not even in the corners or behind the unseen books. Aside from the piling books, scrolls, and tools (and the few coffee cups), the Athena cabin is the cleanest cabin after the Apollo cabin.

When there was a spider somehow, you witness everyone scream and grab several torches before incinerating the arachnid into nothingness.

That or an overly complicated set up of a machine to destroy that one spider. Then you find out that there’s a lot of contraptions that they’ve built for one, very specific, function.

You just had pulled off an emergency strategy maneuver during the Capture the Flag. It was a close call with the new camper but you couldn’t mistake them for not being a child of Ares. They were a monster on the field and you had to make sure at least get some upper hand.

You managed to take out half of the other team’s numbers, using the layout of the forest and its terrain to your advantage, and your eyes noticing the body language of your opponent.

You still lost because the new camper, who has the undeniable glow of Ares on them, demolished through your forces, but it wasn’t half-bad since the casualty was the same on both sides.

“You’re fast on your feet. A bit foolish, but it was a nice maneuver.”

You jumped at the voice and turned to it, seeing a blonde girl with gray eyes. You knew her, Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena.

“Oh, uh, yeah” you said lamely, dusting yourself off as an attempt to keep your hands from shaking. “I figured at that point, we could at least make it fair or we just lose really badly.”

Annabeth nodded, as she smiled. “I guess, there’s plenty of time to hone your intelligence with us.”

“Wait what?”

Annabeth gestured up your head and you looked to see the glowing image of an owl over your head. You made a “oh” and looked owl-eyed at your new sister as she held out her hand.

“Welcome to the Athena cabin, I’m Annabeth Chase. Cabin Leader and your new half-sibling.”

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burnednotburied · 19 days

Text

Chapter 4: Uncloaked

AO3 Link | Chapter 3 Link

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas

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

You watched from the wide window in the second room as Abby walked away and headed towards the coast, your fingers lifting the blinds just enough for you to peek out.

Yara was already drifting off to sleep on the couch behind you. Even Lev was starting to succumb to his exhaustion, his head leaned on the couch’s arm, his eyes blinking slowly.

Quietly, you instructed them both to get some rest, promising to keep watch. Yara mumbled a Yes, Prophet and pulled her legs up just enough for her brother to have room at the other end. He moved from where he knelt on the floor by her head to curl up by her feet, finally allowing himself to close his eyes.

You couldn’t imagine that they had been able to get much rest in their last few days on the run. But you were here now. You would keep them safe.

You turned your eyes back to the window, to the Wolf, expecting to find her out of your line of sight by now. Instead, you found her standing still, just far enough away for you to be unable to read her expression.

She stood there in the rain for several moments, swaying on her feet, looking back and forth between the coast and the building like she was trying to make a decision.

Stupidly, you wished again that she would stay.

As if she had heard your thoughts, Abby turned and started walking back in your direction, her mind made up.

You smiled and ran to meet her, carefully shutting the door that separated the two rooms as you went, leaving Yara and Lev to sleep undisturbed.

When Abby was once again outside the door, you swung it open, watching her blink at you incredulously with her fist raised, ready to knock.

“Wolf,” you said, trying to hide your pleased smile.

“Prophet.” She let her hand fall.

You stepped aside to let her in.

She brushed past you.

Again, you closed and locked the door, leaning back against it with your hands behind you.

This first room didn’t have furniture. At least not anything to sit on. Abby dropped her bag and sat on the floor across from you, leaning back against the wall with her forearms resting on her drawn-up knees.

You wanted to question her decision to come back, hoping she might give you some insight into why there seemed to be this pull between you two.

You had always longed for connection, feeling so thoroughly set apart from your people that you might as well have been completely alone. They revered you—worshipped you—but they didn’t love you. Not in a way that you truly felt.

You were nothing more than a symbol. An object to worship. No different than an intricately painted mural on a wall. A counterfeit version of the Prophet they once had.

So you didn’t have people who loved you. Who saw you.

That was what you wanted more than anything.

And here was this Wolf, who had fought alongside you and spoken to you like you were a real person. She smiled at you and called you a “good girl”, making you feel what felt like the most tempting sin. And she called you Prophet like it was a joke between the two of you.

You hadn’t wanted her to leave, and here she was. Not leaving.

Maybe this wasn’t one-sided. Maybe it wasn’t all in your head. The fact that she came back was proof that she felt it too.

You studied her face, as if that would reveal something to you.

It didn’t.

You broke the silence. “I’m not actually a prophet, you know.”

This clearly wasn’t what she expected you to say. She probably thought you would ask her why she came back. But you figured her honest answer would be similar to yours: She just felt like she had to, and she didn’t know why.

Abby seemed grateful to bypass the interrogation, so she scoffed, feigning shock. “You mean to tell me you’re not a wise, all-knowing seer of the future, cosmically and singularly chosen to lead the righteous few?”

Your smile returned as you shook your head.

“So how’d you end up with the title?” she asked, genuinely curious.

You had spent a lot of time thinking about this over the years. You decided to give her the simplest answer.

“Honestly, I think I was just the first child who turned twelve after the Elders decided that they wanted a new prophet.”

“Why would that matter?” she asked. When she saw your confused look, she added, “That you were twelve?”

“That’s when we get the…” You gestured to your face, drawing lines on either side of your mouth to indicate the scarring.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She let her legs straighten in front of her, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning her head back against the wall. Her eyes stayed on you, watching you carefully. “Well, at least you got to bypass that fun little rite of passage.”

“I have marks like any other Seraphite,” you said. “I just carry them differently.”

Abby looked curious, like she wanted to ask you to go on. Instead, you pushed off from where you leaned against the door and began unfastening the long cloak that you still wore, glancing up briefly to see the Wolf’s eyes widen and her cheeks flush ever so slightly as she leaned forward to watch you.

It did feel scandalous. Removing the cloak in front of her. Even though you were clothed underneath.

Slowly stripping a layer away with her eyes on you, transfixed. Enamored. Like you were something beautiful—maybe even desirable.

It felt good in a way that you had been taught was bad.

You hoped that, as time and distance came between you and Haven, the Elders’ voices would fade away in your mind. Their rules and demands had always been a suffocating weight on you. But maybe now it was your choice. You got to decide what was true and how to live.

You promised yourself you’d revisit that line of thinking later.

Beneath the cloak, you wore what you always did. A long, simple white dress. The fabric was soft and light. Thin, although not sheer. The sleeves were short, leaving your arms mostly bare, and the whole thing ended just above your ankles. It flowed enough for you to move without any difficulty, but it was properly fitted to your exact measurements at the top.

At Sanctuary, your servants had always been responsible for your dresses, making new ones as your body changed, growing taller and filling out. You hadn’t initially been comfortable in dresses, never having worn them as a child, but after eight years of it being the only option offered to you, you’d grown accustomed to it. Comfortable, even.

Now, you felt naked in it.

The cloak had protected the dress from most of the mud, blood, guts of the day, but it hadn’t totally shielded it against the rain.

The fabric was damp against your skin, clinging more than it usually would.

You kept going, remembering why you had removed your cloak in the first place.

Holding the cloak by the collar in your right hand, you lifted your left arm to show the Wolf the scars that covered the back of your forearm.

Her eyes were focused elsewhere, slowly wandering down your body. Skirting along every line and following every curve, she took her time taking you in. You couldn’t describe the look on her face if you tried.

You shivered, and that movement finally brought her attention back up to your eyes. And then lower, to the arm you had been trying to show her.

Abby seemed to come back to herself, remembering what you had been talking about and why you took off your top layer.

She stared at the marks, quiet. You transferred your cloak to your left hand, lifting the right arm to show the matching scars there.

Neither of you said anything for several moments.

“I’m sure that wasn’t it,” she said, meeting your eyes again. You let your arm fall.

“Hmm?”

“I mean, I’m sure your Elders chose you for a reason. A bigger reason than just when your birthday happened to land.”

You thought for a moment about your other theories. The fact that your father had been a loyal soldier who died protecting the first Prophet. The fact that you were an only child, and with your father dead, you had no family other than your mother, who had always been the most devout follower. The fact that, when you were a child, your teachers said you were the perfect student. Quiet and obedient. They said you would make a wonderful wife someday. Something that left you feeling strangely uncomfortable, but your mother had taken great pride in. She used to talk about her hope that you would be chosen to marry one of the Elders themselves.

Maybe the same things that would’ve made you a good wife also made you a good Prophet. At least as far as what the Elders wanted from a Prophet. They never really wanted you to lead. Just for you to become the face of their initiatives. A mouthpiece. Maybe even a scapegoat.

You decided not to tell Abby any of this, already feeling that she knew so much about you while you knew absolutely nothing about her.

You almost pointed this out when she spoke again.

“You can sit, you know. You should sit. I’m sure you’re tired.”

You weren’t supposed to sit on the ground. Or kneel. For anyone or any reason. Although, you’d already broken that rule a few times tonight. You’d knelt to cut Abby loose from the ropes earlier, and again when she had been setting Yara’s arm.

It was a stupid rule anyway, you decided. And what was it you were thinking about earlier? About making your own decisions about what is good and true from now on?

The floor was dirty though. And your dress was white.

You stepped away from the door, closer to Abby, and spread your cloak out on the floor, sitting on top of it.

Abby scoffed. “Princess.”

You tilted your head, confused, not offended.

“You don’t know what a princess is?” she asked in slight disbelief.

“It’s a word that was used to describe the daughter of an Old World monarch. Or I suppose the wife of a prince, which would’ve been the son of a monarch,” you said matter-of-factly. “I just don’t understand what that has to do with me.”

“I—” Abby started and then stopped. “Never mind.”

You narrowed your eyes, unsatisfied with her lack of an explanation, and decided to ask the much harder question after all.

“Why did you come back?”

“Huh?” she asked, suddenly nervous.

“Why’d you turn around?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No, I mean—” She sighed, avoiding eye contact. “You guys will die without me—without my help.”

You didn’t like that answer.

“You think we can’t take care of ourselves? That we need a Wolf to protect us?”

“Honestly? Yeah.”

“Wha—”

She cut you off. “You’ve never left that island, I’m assuming, until today. You’re a capable fighter, but you don’t know anything about this world—”

“I—”

“You can argue with me if you want, but you know I’m right. And the girl is badly injured. Setting the bone won’t be enough. She needs much more medical attention if she’s going to make it. And the kid is… a kid.” Her eyes meet yours again, determined. Insistent. “So yeah, I think you could use my help. And you would be smart to accept it.”

Abby was right. You knew she was.

You wanted to ask why she cared though. But you didn’t bother, knowing she wouldn’t have much of an answer. Instead, you relented, leaning back on your hands behind you, arms straightened.

“So what’s the plan?” you asked.

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

Abby breathed out, relieved that you weren’t fighting her.

“Right now, to stay here and rest.”

You nodded your head towards the door between the two rooms. “Yara and Lev are already sleeping.”

“Good. You should join them.”

You smiled a little, making Abby’s heart beat faster. “So I should just go to sleep and trust the Wolf who came into my life under mysterious circumstances?”

She let out a short laugh, dumbfounded. “I came into your life under mysterious circumstances?! You attacked me, knocked me out cold, and hung me up by my neck.”

When you laughed softly and leaned closer, her heart raced.

“Technically, I didn’t do any of those things,” you pointed out.

“No. You just tried to kill me afterwards.”

“I apologized for that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I asked you if you were okay.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“You’re right,” you said, gazing into her eyes. “I’m sorry.” She could tell that you were being sincere.

She cleared her throat, looking away. “Go to sleep.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” you said, smiling again, arguing just for the sake of it. “Maybe you should get some sleep and I’ll stay up.”

Abby let out an exasperated breath.

She couldn’t help but look at you, sitting on the floor with her in an old trailer like you weren’t the most ethereal thing she’d ever seen. In that dress that looked incredible on you.

It made her wonder what you would look like without it.

She wanted to reach out and touch you. To let her hands lazily travel the same path that her eyes had taken when you first took off that cloak. She wanted to hear the sounds you would make as her fingers grazed your bare skin.

She wanted you.

Her own thoughts surprised her.

Abby hadn’t spent much time thinking about what—or who—she was into in the past. Being with Owen had made sense. He was nice and funny. He made her laugh. He liked her. And her dad loved him. They were young.

But when he kissed her, she’d get this unsettling, jittery, nervous feeling. One that she could never tell if she liked or not. But she always heard people talking about having butterflies in their stomach, so Abby thought maybe that was normal. Still, she was always the first to pull away, always retreating from his touch when things got too… overwhelming.

When her dad died, she didn’t let anyone touch her for the longest time. Owen stuck around, though. He kept trying. They joined the Washington Liberation Front, and Abby felt like that gave her a purpose. She had training to stick to and orders to follow while she continued to listen for word about Joel Miller, any hint about where he could be.

She kept pushing Owen away until, eventually, he let go. Abby could remember the moment she realized it was over, although neither of them came out and said it. It affected her more than she thought it would. She was devastated. Almost like she was losing another part of her dad. Like she was watching every piece of her life crumble and fade away until she was left with something completely unrecognizable.

Then Owen and Mel got together, and things got even weirder. Mel, who had once been one of Abby’s closest friends, started treating her like an enemy. Always looking at her with distrust, pulling Owen away when he tried to talk to her.

It got worse after Jackson. Abby didn’t know if that was because of what happened there or because Mel was pregnant. Probably both.

Abby kept her head down. Threw herself back into the flow of things in Seattle. She focused on making her body strong, following orders, and killing Scars whenever she got the chance.

And sure, sometimes someone caught her eye. Maybe a character in a movie she’d watched with Manny, or someone she’d crossed paths with in the WLF compound. Now that she thought about it, those people were almost always women.

She found those thoughts easy to ignore, so nothing ever came of them. Abby didn’t think she was well-suited for a romantic partnership, after what she did to Owen. She was sure didn’t deserve it. So she always brushed those feelings off and kept moving forward. She had work to do. A city to fight for.

She had known you for just one night and everything was changing. She could feel it happening. Her life was never going to be the same.

She wanted to be good enough for it. She wanted to deserve this change.

So she was going to protect you and your friends. Because it was the right thing to do, and because she really wanted to.

And if that meant she got to keep you close, she wouldn’t complain.

Abby couldn’t fucking believe that she was into a Scar.

But she couldn’t stop looking at you. Your eyes. Your lips. Your body. It was like every piece of you had been hand-crafted for the purpose of driving her crazy. She couldn’t walk away if she tried.

Hell, she did try and she didn’t even make it down the street.

All of this, and you hadn’t even touched her yet. Maybe you never would.

And she didn’t even know your real name.

But it was becoming more and more clear to her that you were a really good person.

Abby wasn’t sure if she was a good person, but she wanted to be. If she hadn’t been before, she could start now.

The door between the rooms creaked open, and Lev’s head poked out. When he saw her sitting there with you, he froze, his eyes narrowing disapprovingly.

“What’s she doing here?” he asked, his eyes remaining on her while he spoke to you.

“She’s going to help us,” you said.

“We don’t need—”

“Yes. We do,” you said firmly.

He let it go, turning to face you. He looked worried, saying nothing.

“Is it Yara? How’s she doing?” you asked, already moving to stand.

Lev just looked down and shook his head. He stepped aside, opening the door further as you rushed into the room to check on her with Abby following close behind.

Yara was on the couch, curled into the fetal position. She was shaking, breathing heavily and unevenly.

Abby watched as you rushed over to the girl, putting your hand to her forehead to check for a fever. The look on your face alone told her it wasn’t good.

Your eyes found her, fearful and unsure of what to do.

She moved in closer, crouching down to be on Yara’s level. “I’m going to move your arm,” she said to the girl. Yara whimpered as Abby carefully adjusted her. “Lean into me.”

Abby picked her up.

“Where are you taking her?” Lev asked, stepping forward.

“C’mon.” She tried to walk past him, heading for the door. He stepped in front of her.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m giving her a chance,” Abby insisted, giving him a look that seemed to convince him to move aside and go along with it.

Lev grabbed his bow and quiver. You quickly put on your cloak, grabbed your own weapon, and threw Abby’s backpack over your shoulders.

You followed her back out into the rain.

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

Note: I had a really good time writing this chapter! I loved that it was mostly just Abby and reader talking and getting to know each other :)

P.S. If you're someone who's been leaving comments on AO3, please know that I love you <3

#the wolf and the prophet #my writing #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic

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yeeterthek33per · 9 months

Text

It hurts (but I've got you)(Katrina Gorry x reader)

A/n I'm gonna warn everyone right now. This one is gonna get dark. It's a fresh loss, and I'm feeling ridiculously angsty. Warnings include mental illness, unaliving mentions, past abuse, self degradation, and panic attack warnings. and some seriously dark thoughts. A lot of mentions of trauma coping. Seriously, do not read if you guys can't cope with it or if it triggers you.

Also, this isn't the only Gorry fic I'm writing atm 😅

----------

It felt like you knew the moment your fiancee had been subbed off that this game was it.

3-1 down with just 3 minutes left of regulation time. Even with stoppage, nothing felt like enough. None of you were processing Tony's yells from the sideline, none of you could feel the rush you needed to.

And they just kept coming at you. The exhaustion was setting in and nobody could keep up with them anymore.

Sam couldn't get the touches she needed to.

Mackenzie wasn't communicating well with the girls at the back, and they weren't aggressing like they needed to

You felt helpless in the chaos, despite being in the midfield. Your passes weren't connecting, and every touch you had felt like it was a turnover to England.

It felt like Chidi wasn't being given enough time to work her magic. The English defence was reduced to several layers of blue. None of the strikers up front had the energy to challenge that.

Steph was completely out of it, Caitlin was trying, but she didn't have the strength.

In the end, none of your attempts were enough, and it was weighing on you like a pile of bricks. You felt sick. To the point where your sobs nearly turned to dry heaving.

You'd collapsed to the turf the moment the whistle blew. Hiding your head in your knees, you avoided any possible camera angles of your face, not wanting to be seen losing it like you were.

You could barely budge when you felt a hand on your back.

Everything was just overwhelming... not processing, but still somehow all setting in at once.

You felt several pats on the back over the course of a couple of minutes. You assumed the England players. Proven when you heard your old teammate Alessia, rubbing your back and mumbling to you how proud she was of you, especially watching you play throughout the cup.

You could barely acknowledge the blonde though.

Everything was screaming in your ears, all the pressure, the deafening silence of the crowd aside from the few England fans that did show up, the players off the side of the pitch yelling and celebrating.

The first person to force you out of your shell, though, was Katrina. She's knelt in front of you and tugs at your arms, pulling them from around your head and urges you into her embrace. You meet her eyes enough to see the tears, and that just sends you further. You feel like you failed her.

It didn't feel like enough. Nothing you did during that game was enough. Her voice is shaky but it's soothing enough to get you to slow your tears, but it's just piling up behind walls in your head at this point. It's being boxed up and padlocked.

Your first reflex is to apologise. And you do.

"I'm so sorry, it wasn't enough, I wasn't trying hard enough, I failed you."

Katrina feels her own heart crack a little further, hearing those words come from you. You'd played your heart out this entire world cup.

You were exhausted. You all were. But you couldn't see that you were doing all you could. It hurt more than anything to know you were blaming yourself for this. Though she fully expected it. You were still learning to process losses like this. She was hoping you'd made enough progress in case a loss like this happened.

It was something you'd both been working on. It's one of your childhood traumas. Losses were ingrained into you like life failures. You'd been taught from a young age that failure was never an option. That it resulted in beatings.

That it meant you should die.

That was something that you'd ingrained into yourself as a coping mechanism while you were still with your foster family.

Katrina knew of the abuse, but she didn't know much about the state of your mental health. It was something you'd only recently opened up with. Little by little, but not a lot.

It bounced around your head like a mantra.

You failed, it's over.

You failed.

You're gently brought back out of your head, Katrina's hands on either side of your face, her thumb caressing your cheek, her forehead leant against yours.

"Look at me, baby, breathe, just listen to me, okay? You're in your head too much. Just listen to me and try to breathe with me. C'mon baby, you can do it. Come back to me."

You try to match her breathing. You hadn't even realised the panic attack had hit you.

Your chest was heaving, and you managed to slow it down a little.

"That's it, my sweet girl. You've got it."

You try to take in her words.

Just breathe.

You're a failure.

You're okay.

You've got this.

You fucking useless-.

Just breathe Y/n.

Breathe.

It's okay.

You're safe.

"That's it, you're safe here, Baby. You did so well."

Her lips press a kiss to your forehead.

"That's it, baby girl. You did it. I'm so proud of you."

Her hands shift to your neck to rub at it gently. Her nails scratch at the skin lightly, and you let it distract you. Your breathing is finally relaxed enough to let her pull you to your feet.

You almost can't bring yourself to look around. But you pick up your head and take a deep breath as Katrina keeps you looking at her.

"That's it, Y/n, that's it."

You close your eyes and take a final deep breath, and then meet her eyes again. You feel guilty for dropping this on her right now. Now is not the time for her to need to comfort you.

So you stone wall it back and fake a little relaxation in her arms.

"I'm good, I'm good, I'm okay. I-...I'm"

Sorry. I'm sorry.

You didn't say it out loud, but her face immediately shifts, and it seems you don't have to. It's almost like she can read your mind.

"Hey, no, uh uh. None of that, you don't need to apologise to me. You're my girl, and you're allowed to be vulnerable around me. I'm always gonna be here for you. Don't ever apologise for not being able to handle things on your own."

You let out a shaky breath, tilting your head back, blinking back any tears.

You've got this.

You nod, whiping away tears.

She rubs your shoulder softly. And you finally manage to look around at your teammates. A few of them are still just... sitting... contemplating the game.

Sam in particular. She looks like she's holding it in just about as much as you are, although more than likely a little better. The disappointment is still fresh in her eyes, though, and you can't quite face your best friend just yet. So you move to hug the others.

Katrina follows behind you a little. Not directly, but enough to keep a close eye on you as you console the girls. Charli and Kyra stick by her as well. The two of them had been the first to go to her after the whistle blew.

Though they do come find you after a few minutes. You were marrying their practically adoptive mother, after all. That and you were family to them as well.

Charli is the first to reach you. You let her hold you for a few minutes, and you rub at her back as well.

"Thanks, Cha Cha, I'm sorry you didn't get the chance to play today like we'd hoped."

She shakes her head.

"Doesn't matter. You all played the best you could today. I'm so proud of each and every one of you."

Your eyes well up a little bit, but you suck it back in.

"I know."

She ruffles your hair a little bit, managing a small goofy smile, and it gives you enough to let out a watery laugh.

"Atta girl."

It gets a little easier to breathe after that. And you find it easier to approach Kyra too.

"Hey, kiddo."

"I'm sorry it had to end like this."

"Not your fault, Ky. You played the best you could today."

You're quick to envelope her, too, pulling her into your chest, resting your head on hers. She's a little shaky but she's coping.

You both start to walk the pitch after that. Beginning to applaud the crowd for their support throughout the tournament.

It still stings. You know it will for a while. But each step is an easier breath. For now at least.

But at that, with each step comes a new echo in your head that you have to push down. It helps having your family there with you. Your real family.

You don't even register the huddle or the locker room talk.

When you get on the bus, Katrina is quick to shove her way into the seat beside you. Not that she has to, really. There's this unspoken rule about the team. Katrina is always next to you after a loss. They know it's for good reason, but they never pry or ask why.

By the time you're back to the team hotel. Its late and everybody returns to their own rooms.

You try convincing Katrina that you'll be fine, that you're just tired, but she's adamant about staying in your room. She reads you like an open book. Truthfully, you definitely aren't fine, and being on your own is not something she's wants for you right now. Harper is with Linda, Katrina's mother, thankfully, so she doesn't have to see this.

You go to join her in saying goodnight to her daughter, but she tells you to stay put for now. You can see her tomorrow.

You almost whine saying you missed the two year old, but you know not to push it, and you know you aren't in the right headspace to be around her right now.

You get ready for bed, and it only takes ten minutes for your girl to return again.

"She's doing fine, a little confused why Cha Cha didn't wanna play Aeroplane tonight, but she went down without much fuss."

You smiled a little at that, Harps was such an easygoing kid. It was hard not to fall in love with such a sweet little thing. Being in love with her mother certainly didn't help prevent that either.

"I'm glad she's doing okay then."

Katrina swaps out her (your) hoodie for one of your sleep shirts and strips down to just underwear.

"I think we'd both be a little better if her mama was too, though." It's not even subtle. You know she's not trying to be. She never is. She's gentle about it, though.

"What do you mean? I'm perfectly fine." It's said in a joking tone, but the unimpressed brow you get makes you feel a little guilty for that one.

"You want to talk about what happened?"

"Want to or want to?"

"You have to want to talk about it before we get anywhere. I won't force it out of you, I know it's still so fresh, but you need to want to before we can talk, sweetheart."

You sigh a little, resting against the wall behind the bed. You think about it for a minute. Before ultimately deciding to just hold on to it for a bit longer.

"Not just yet."

She nods in understanding.

"I'm here when you're ready baby."

"Maybe in the morning, it's just a little more tender than I'd like."

You still feel bad, though. Katrina played the same game you did. Lost the same game you did. Yet you couldn't handle it the same way.

You slip under the covers, and she joins you, slipping under, on her side and behind, spooning you. Her arm tucks itself over your waist, pulling you back into her shorter self. In that moment, you let her warmth lull you to sleep, thoughts of regret and guilt still plaguing your mind.

-------

It's weird. You've never seen Sam mad like this before. She's always been a relatively calm captain. Even after losses this big. You'd never seen her raise her voice at another teammate. Sure, sometimes people do stupid shit, and she has to pull them aside to speak with them, or lightly scold them, and that usually works, but...

Here you were.

She'd asked you to come to the meeting room downstairs first thing this morning. She's been yelling at you for the past five minutes. With each sentence, you just shrink, smaller and smaller, and it's like you're back on the pitch again.

"How could you let this happen?! Why did it take eight of you to let them through?! After all that hard work? How hard is it to keep them out?!"

"I-"

"How hard is it?! You're a defensive midfielder. You should know you have to keep them out, and you failed me!"

"Sam I-."

"You fucking let me down, I am absolutely fucking disgusted with you y/l. Why did you think it was okay?!"

"Sam, I'm sorry I-"

"'Sorry' isn't a fucking excuse, you knew you couldn't let us lose and you fucking let me down. You let them all down, you fucking failed us."

You're sobbing at this point, barely able to get a word in. You're curled up in the corner of the room, and Sam is standing over you. You can barely register the feel of artificial turf beneath you as the blaring lights of the stadium nearly blind you.

She's still yelling, but it's like she's muffled now.

Off to the side even.

You look up around you. She's still yelling, but you can't hear her over the crunching of grass beneath a pair of leather loafers. It screams in your ears, almost painfully. You know those sounds all too well.

Your foster father walks towards you slowly, with purpose. His belt bent and tucked back into his hand again.

"What did I tell you would happen, Jessica?"

It makes you tremble, and your body is rooted to the spot. You feel like you can't move. He always tried to force the name on you. Your foster mother just let it happen.

You open your mouth to protest, but all that comes out are more sobs and half met pleas. He's standing right over you now. His arm raises the belt in the air. And right before he brings it down. You see the angry and disappointed faces of everyone. Sam still yelling.

Steph, Caitlin, Charli, Kyra, Ellie. Katrina stands on her own, shaking her head at you. She turns away right as the belt comes down.

-----

Your eyes blink open. You feel the stickiness of dried tears on your face, fresh ones replacing them quickly.

You have to take a quick few breaths to gather your surroundings again.

It's okay. You're in your room. He's not here to hurt you.

Katrina's arm is looser around your waist now. You're tucked into her front but on your back now, and she's dead asleep on the pillow beside yours.

It's okay.

You're safe.

How could you let this happen?

Fucking dumbass.

Worthless piece of-.

That's all it takes for you to carefully slip out from under the covers. Careful not to jostle your sleeping fiancee. You couldn't get the look of disappointment on her face out of your head.

She'd looked completely done with you. She couldn't even look at you. She was so disappointed.

Tears were still flowing from your eyes. Your breathing was starting to become more rapid as you slipped out of the room's door, a small click behind you as you shut it.

You couldn’t stay here.

That was all you could think about. There was no way security would let out at this hour without questions, so you have to find a back door.

You sneak into what looks like an old busted fire escape hall. There's an old alarm attached to it, but it's not even enabled, you having prepared to bolt if it had gone off if you were wrong about it. You'd heard one of the staff talking about it needing replacing soon and that they'd disable it until it could be fixed.

Your socked feet are quiet, but slip on the tile floors as you walk out the back door. Looks like the alarm isn't enabled from the inside. You duck out quickly and just run down the road. You keep running. It's dark out still. You didn't even check the time before running off.

But it doesn't matter.

The thoughts in your head are spinning. Everything's just crashing down on you. You're curled up in an alleyway, beside a dumpster.

Fucking useless piece of crap.

You couldn't keep them out?

You're worthless.

You-

It's all just echoing around, piling in your head. Your head is between your knees as you rock back and forth.

It-

It scares the shit out of you when a pair of hands carefully rests on your shoulders.

You let out a little scream, not expecting anyone to have followed you. It's Katrina. You're relieved for a second but quickly tense again.

Shit, you hadn't meant to wake her on the way out.

"Hey, it's okay, it's just me. Im sorry I scared you."

She's hesitant to speak at first, processing what she's going to say, you assume. So you speak first.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

She shakes her head at that.

"Baby, that's not the problem. In fact, I'd rather you have woken me up... baby, what's going on? What's happening in that head of yours? Talk to me, why are we out here?"

"I-." Your voice is shaky, and you have to clear your throat. Your eyes drift to look anywhere but at her.

Her fingers on your chin bring your gaze back though.

"Look at me. What's going on?"

Your words are mumbled softly, like you're trying to force them out, but they just let out almost inaudibly. Thankfully, traffic outside had calmed down in the earlier hours of the morning. So she does hear you when you say it.

"It was just a bad dream, i needed some air."

Her face softens, but she's still sceptical. Thankfully, she doesn't have to prompt you further. Everything just feels so kept up. You let it out slowly, but the more you talk, the more tears that flow out to join the words whispered.

"It's just... God, I feel so stupid. It's not like everyone around me isn't dealing with the same shit."

She's silent as you try and process what to say.

"I- everything's just collapsing in on itself, it feels like... I know it's not the end for me, or for us as a team, but..." There's a little understanding dawning on her face. "Everything in my head has just been crumbling lately. Yesterday, just kind of, I don't know? Completed that? Compiled it? I don't know. It just built and built and built and everything's just being thrown back at me again."

"So that dream...?" She urges gently.

"Was just everything compiling in one go."

"Do you want talk about what happened in it?"

"I-not here, I won't make us have this conversation beside a dumpster."

Katrina laughs a little, letting her hand come up to hold your cheek. "Fuck baby, we could have this conversation on the edge of a cliff and I would still sit and listen. Whereever you wanna be my sweet girl."

You let yourself lean into the warmth of her hand, the cold now having started to seep into you as you're sitting down on the concrete.

You nod quickly. "Let's go. My ass is starting to freeze." She chuckles and pulls you to your feet gently.

Thankfully, Katrina had half the mind to leave the access door unlatched, and you sneak back into the hotel with little to no trouble.

Back in the darkness of the hotel room, you're leant back into her, sitting between her legs on the bed. Her hands run through your hair, gently scratching at your scalp as you replay the events of the nightmare.

"It was so daunting, and it just kept finding its way into my head, and just... god... I love Sam... and I know she would never, but... it just felt so real."

"And it just kept going. It just devolved into... well. My old foster dad... he just..."

Tears started to well up, and you couldn't finish it after that. The words wouldn't come out. At your hesitation, Katrina is quick hush you, pressing her lips to your temple.

"It's okay, baby, you don't have to say it. I'm so sorry you have to deal with that."

"S'not your fault, just my stupid brain."

" Your brain is just trying to help you process the loss, okay? You've suffered so much, and it's okay to be grieving and dealing with it how you need to deal with it."

You lean your head back against her shoulder, letting the tears fall. God, you didn't deserve this woman. She was an amazing mother, a brilliant football player, and an amazing soon to be wife, too. She doesn't wipe the tears away this time, and you let them go.

Instead, she holds you. She lets you cry into her.

She lets you cry into the super early hours of the morning before you finally manage to exhaust yourself into a heavy sleep, tucked between her arms and her whispering sweet nothings, soft praises, and promises of forever with you as you do.

"I know it hurts, baby girl, but we're all here for you, and I've got you, and I'm not gonna let go in a hurry or ever."

You may not be able to tell her everything yet, but she sure as hell would make sure she was there to listen when you do.

#katrina gorry x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso

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aemonds-fire · 10 months

Text

The Tempest - Part Two

Summary: Prince Aemond is having a very bad day.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 5228

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, Angst, Smut, profanity, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, p in v sex, unprotected sex , fingering and oral sex (f receiving).

Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone who read Part One! I cannot thank @arcielee enough for beta reading and making suggestions. I'm now taking taglist requests.

Valyrian translation: sȳz riña - good girl; gevie - beautiful

Enjoy! Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

Part One

The prince has an intimidating reputation.

Most who encounter Prince Aemond feel the simmering anger within him, for even if there is a smile on his lips it rarely reaches his eye. Yes, he can act the part of the perfect prince, dutiful and courteous. Many think he could look like a perfect prince, were it not for the missing eye and scar that mars his face. He has wit, but it can cut you like his sword. Yes, there is an air of quiet menace that lends to the idea that this young prince truly has the blood of the dragon in his veins.

And on this day, he is living up to that reputation.

All who see him storming through the corridors keep their distance from him as word of his outburst with Ser Cole in the training yard begins to circulate.

When you arrive at his chamber door this morning, you immediately notice that his guard is not at his post outside the door. You know this usually means the prince is not in his room. Still, you knock and wait a moment for any acknowledgement before entering.

The first sign that something is amiss is the messy state of his room. One of the things that makes your job as his servant easy is the fact that he is very tidy and organized.

Yet today you see several books lying on the floor, papers strewn across his desk with a pot of ink knocked over and a drying black stain on the rug.

You also notice that his clothes from the day before are strewn about, along with more books on the floor and his bed looks hardly slept in.

You quickly set about putting his chambers back in order while wondering how best to deal with the ink stain, when Aemond suddenly bursts in, slamming the door behind him. One look at him and you know something is very wrong as he stalks into the room with shoulders tensed and fists clenched. He quickly unbuckles his sword belt and tosses it aside, not even looking where it lands, as he begins pacing the room like a furious caged animal.

You can feel his anger burning from where you stand, by his desk, watching him worriedly.

You are not even sure if he realizes you are in the room, he is so preoccupied with his rage.

“Aemond, what is wrong?” you ask softly, with concern.

He turns at the sound of your voice, you watch him close his eye while his lips are drawn in a tight line of fury as he struggles with his ire.

“Y/N, just go, leave me,” he says finally in a low voice.

“Aemond, is there anything I can do to help you?” you ask as you begin to approach him with worry.

“Just go! Now!” Aemond yells at you in irritation, waving you away with his hand.

Stunned by his outburst, you keep your distance from him and quietly say, “ As you wish, your grace,“ before taking your leave from his chambers.

In the months you have spent serving him, you have never seen him have an outburst like this before. In fact, you have seen glimpses of a rather shy and gentle man. Your mind cannot help but drift back to that night of the storm as you make your way through the corridors to return to the servants areas of the Keep.

Nearly a moon had passed since you rode out the evening storm that punished Kings Landing with fierce wind and rain. Then, you had quickly cleaned yourself in the prince’s bathing room, dressed and tried to smooth your disheveled appearance. Once you felt presentable enough to walk through the halls of the Red Keep, you approached the prince somewhat nervously. You had never done anything like this before and you were not sure if you had just made a serious mistake.

You smiled shyly and asked, “Do you require anything else this evening, your grace?”

With a soft smile in return he came over to you and took hold of your hand. He seemed just as nervous as you were.

“Aemond, please just Aemond when we are alone,” he said quietly while rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “ I do not need anything else tonight, thank you,”

“Then I bid you goodnight, your…a… Aemond,” you stammered. You started to turn to leave, but he continued to hold onto your hand.

“Y/N, I…I will have moon tea here for you in the morning,” he mumbled as he looked at you shyly.

The possible outcome of what you and Aemond have just done caused your breath to catch a little in your throat as you answered, “Yes, thank you, that would be most kind of you.”

“Ahh…good, then I will bid you goodnight as well,” as he placed his hands just beneath your shoulders, giving you a soft kiss on your cheek.

The next morning, Aemond had a cup of moon tea waiting for you as promised. He told you to sit for a few moments while you drank it and he sat next to you. He seemed to be struggling to say something as he kept tapping his fingers on his thigh.

Suddenly, you both decided to speak at once, causing you both to smile, breaking the awkwardness that now surrounded you. You gestured for Aemond to speak first as you took another sip of your tea.

“I…you are alright…I hope I didn’t hurt…” he began to stumble over his words.

You could not help but smile as you watched the usually stoic and proud prince blush, struggling to form a sentence. You reached over and gently placed your hand over his, wanting to reassure him.

“Aemond, I’m fine and I have no regrets,” you calmly tell him.

He looked at you and breathed a sigh of relief, finally letting his shoulders relax as if a heavy weight had been lifted off. Aemond returned your gaze and smiled, “Good, I am glad to hear you say that.” He pauses, still uncertain of his words, “I should be going to train now.” He stood up from beside you, hesitating for a moment before he leant down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Other than that one acknowledgment of your intimacy, neither of you had brought it up again. Aemond maintained his strict schedule of training, studying, and flying on his dragon Vhagar. Added to that, court duties and spending time with his family, soon almost a moon had passed with you seeing him infrequently. On the occasions you were in his chambers with him, he made no other advances towards you. The only slight differences now were that he still preferred you call him Aemond and he seemed more relaxed in your presence. Overall, you felt incredibly fortunate.

Since the prince ordered you from his chambers, you spend the rest of the morning assisting other maids in their duties, though Aemond never strays from your thoughts

You tell yourself that the problems of the royal family are little of your concern. You are simply a maid in their service, but as you continue to worry about him you realize that you have come to care for him and that thought causes you a great deal of uneasiness.

You have always prided yourself on being a sensible person, unlike some of the other girls working in the Keep who have foolish dreams of being taken away to a better life by a handsome knight or lord. You keep telling yourself that your intimacy with him was a one time happening. Aemond has shown no interest towards you since and you feel you should be glad of that, even if the memory causes a flush of desire within you.

You were under no illusions regarding any kind of relationship with the prince. He was the second son of the king and you were a maid servant of the Red Keep; and nothing good would come from you hoping for more. Anything more than a general fondness for him would bring you nothing but pain and disappointment, you remind yourself.

Just after midday, you are told to resume your normal duties for the prince later that afternoon as usual. When the time comes you make sure to stop by the laundry to get the clothes that need to be returned to his wardrobe, before making your way to his chambers with a basket of freshly washed garments and linens.

Like this morning, his guard is not outside his door, so you expect Aemond to not be in his chambers. Still, you knock and wait a moment for any acknowledgement before entering. With no response you open the door and enter with the laundry basket resting on your hip. As you look around the sitting area you notice his sword still lays on the floor in the corner where he threw it this morning, his green training tunic is tossed over the back of a chair and an empty wine pitcher sits on a table.

Suddenly, you hear a pained cry come from the far end of his chamber, startling you so much you nearly drop the basket you are carrying. You quickly set it down on a nearby chair and quietly move towards the large alcove where the prince’s bed is. That end of the room is darker, the drapes have been closed but you can see Aemond lying on his bed. Worried that he may be ill or injured you move closer towards him.

You step softly towards his bed, when you see his head jerk and hear him moan. As you approach his bed, you can’t help but let out a soft gasp of surprise, for in the months you have served him you have never seen Aemond without his eye patch on.

His good eye is closed, though a bit clenched as if he is in pain, but in place of his missing eye is a deep blue sapphire. The color of the stone gives the illusion of one eye open, a very unexpected sight. As he thrashes about and moans again it is clear to you that he is having a nightmare.

You decide to try and wake him from his dream. As you gently place your hand on his arm, he thrashes and cries out again and before you can react, he grabs your wrist tightly and bolts upright with agonized cry. His good eye is open with a wild look in it, sweat runs from his brow and he is breathing heavily.

You gasp with the pain of his strong grip on your wrist “Your grace…Aemond, it’s me. It's alright now.” You try to calm him, ”You were dreaming, it was just a bad dream.”

Aemond looks at you wide eyed, he finally seems to realize where he is and who you are. He lets go of your wrist. He is still breathing hard, hands shaking. He closes his eye and tries to calm himself. He puts his head in his hands, suddenly realizing his eye patch is gone. Panicking, he covers his eye and begins to frantically look about the bed for it.

You see the eye patch laying on the floor next to his bed, he must have pulled off in his sleep.

“Aemond, it’s here,” you tell him as you bend down to retrieve it and hold it out to him.

He immediately snatches it out of your hand, turning from you to put it back on. Then he reaches for a half filled cup of wine on his night stand and gulps it down. He continues to sit on his bed, not saying anything, staring down at his hands in his lap.

You watch him with concern, his hair disheveled and face flushed from his thrashing around. You go to the vanity by the window, pour some water into his wash basin and dampen a clean cloth. Returning to his side, you softly say, “Here, let me,” showing him the cloth.

Aemond immediately says, “No,” and takes the cloth from you. He does begin to wipe the sweat from his face and neck though.

You sigh softly in frustration, “I just want to help you. What is wrong?”

Ignoring your question and without looking at you, he says so quietly that you can barely hear him, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Confused, you tell him “You don’t need to apologize, it was a nightmare, I think everyone has them.” You turn to get him a clean shirt from his wardrobe and hold it out for him to take, pausing when you see he is not paying attention, just looking down at his hands again.

“That is not what I meant, I’m sorry you had to see…my eye…my face without…” his soft voice trails off without finishing.

You nearly drop the shirt you are holding; you look at Aemond sitting there, with a look of…almost shame on his face. Your mind begins to race, trying to understand why he is acting like this. As you go back through the time you’ve served him, you begin to piece it together: why he never removes his eye patch, even in the privacy of his own chambers, why his hand always checks to make sure it is in place. It suddenly dawns on you just how much losing his eye has affected him, hurt him, and how hard he has tried to hide it. You raise your hand to cover your mouth as it begins to gape with understanding.

Aemond, mistaking your silence for revulsion or fear, quickly says,“You can go now.”

The shock of your realization turns to sadness for what he has gone through and you make a very impulsive decision, one that goes against all of your training as a servant.

You take a deep breath and begin to shake your head, before calmly telling him, “No, I am not leaving you like this.”

He visibly tenses at your refusal to leave, his lips pressing together in agitation. He glances toward you, “ I could command you to go.” he says, his voice low with frustration.

The sensible part of you that has always advised, “Keep your head down, your mouth shut and do your job,” tells you to comply with his request and leave, but the part of you that has come to care for him won’t let you; you nervously twist the shirt you are still holding.

“I hope you won’t because I will disobey that command,” the sadness you feel for him creeping into your voice. “I only want to help you,” as you take the bold step of sitting on the edge of his bed, facing him. You reach forward, taking hold of his hand, “Aemond, look at me.”

He hesitates, looking down at your smaller hand over his, before finally raising his head to look at you. You can see the anguish on his face, his insecurity for his eye.

You lean towards him slightly as you say, “You have nothing to apologize for and nothing to be ashamed of. Yes, I saw you without the eye patch,but I’m not frightened of you, it doesn’t bother me. I’m still here for you.”

You watch the emotions flash across his face as he struggles with himself whether or not to believe your words, before bringing your hand to his lips for a kiss, leaning his cheek into your palm and holding it there to place more soft kisses on your hand.

“Come here, pretty one,” he says as he reaches to pull you beside him. You shift to sit next to him, resting against the pillows propped up against the wooden headboard of his large bed. He leans in, resting his head in the crook of your neck, with his arm across your body holding you to him.

With your arm around him, you begin smoothing his hair as he nuzzles his face against your neck, and you think he is almost childlike with his need for comfort and affection right now. You know he is deeply troubled by something, something more than just a nightmare.

The two of you just sit together, embracing, but not talking until you feel the tension begin to fade from his body.

“Aemond, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t wish to, but I know something is troubling you,” you gently say to him.

Almost immediately you can feel him tense, hesitating before he responds, “It has not been a good day.”

“It is more than that. You hardly slept last night, I found books and clothes on the floor this morning. This is not like you,” you tell him. “Nor was your temper with Ser Cole this morning.”

“Hmm, you do not miss much, and you are getting to know me too well,” he sighs.

Aemond remained silent for several minutes before quietly saying, "On this day, when I was ten, I claimed Vhagar… and it is also the day that one of Rhaenyra’s bastards took my eye.”

Of course you have heard stories and rumors about how he lost his eye, though some of the rumors were so outlandish that you dismissed them. It happened years before you began working in the Red Keep. You knew he had been a child when it happened; you had been told the royal family had gone to Driftmark for a funeral and the young prince returned with a dragon and missing an eye. Honestly, before you became his maid, you had never given it much thought other than a feeling of sympathy for him. But hearing him speak of it, in his own voice, suddenly brings home the terrible cruelty of what he has suffered. Your breath catches in your throat as you struggle to find the words to say to him.

“Ten…you were ten…Aemond, I’m sorry you had to go through something so…terrible as that,” you softly tell him, unable to keep some of the emotions you are feeling out of your voice. “Was the nightmare…about that?” you ask hesitantly.

“Yes,” he sighs, “I have relived that night again and again in my mind, and sometimes in my sleep as well,” his voice filled with weariness.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” you ask him.

“No,” he replies as you feel him shake his head. “Not now, I have dwelt on it enough…no more.”

“That’s alright, you don’t have to,” you tell him as you place a soft kiss on the top of his head and stroke his arm, trying to give him what comfort you can. “Is there anything I can do for you, anything you need?”

“Only this,” he whispers, and you feel his hold on you tighten, as if clinging to you helps ease the torment you know he is feeling. “Just stay with me, I cannot be alone with my memories and thoughts right now.”

“I will stay with you, Aemond. I won’t leave you,” you tell him quietly as you continue to hold him close, the afternoon sun streaming in the windows of his chambers.

You feel him breathe a deep sigh of relief against your neck, then the press of his lips against your skin, then another soft kiss. His hand begins to stroke your hip.

“Y/N, please, I need this…need you…” he whispers between gentle kisses, before rising up so you can look at each other, faces only inches apart.

You can see the suffering in his eye, the distress on his face, so desperate for reassurance and affection. You cup his cheek in your palm and rest your forehead against his as you ask, ”Aemond, take the eye patch off. Let me see all of you again. You don’t have to hide from me,” as you begin to gently trace his scar with your fingertip.

You watch him frown with indecision momentarily before he finally reaches up and pulls the patch off, letting you see the deep blue sapphire again. You were so close to see the damage caused by the wound that cost him his eye, your heart constricting with sorrow.

You lean in and softly brush his scar with your lips until you have moved from his cheek up to his forehead. You can feel him tremble in response.

He places his hands on the sides of your face and gently kisses you, his soft lips

caressing yours, as you part them in response. The kiss gradually deepens, with gentle strokes of your tongues to savor the taste of each other. You both become lost in the tenderness between you.

The only sounds are soft hums of pleasure as mouths and hands begin to explore. He reaches behind his neck to pull his shirt off over his head. Then he pulls the pins from your hair, letting your locks fall over your shoulders, fingers running through them. His large hands are drifting down your back before reaching to grasp your waist.

Your eyes take in his lithe, but finely muscled torso, with a patch of pale hair in the center of his chest; the sight of his perfection creates a want in you that you have never felt before. You pull off the already loosened leather tie from his pony tail letting his long, silver hair free, and you gently grasp a handful of the silky strands.

He reaches for the laces of your clothes, undoing them, tugging them down off your shoulders and baring you to your waist. Aemond’s breath quickens as his gaze travels over your nakedness, “So beautiful…perfect…” You close your eyes, a sigh of pleasure escaping your mouth as you feel his calloused palms kneading your firm breasts, his thumbs circling their pebbled peaks.

You run a hand along his warm skin, feeling each muscle, gliding down past his waist; you feel his hard cock twitch beneath his trousers at your touch.

“Not yet,” he gasps into your ear, as he feels your hand starting to undo his laces to free his rigid length.

“Yes, I want to see you, all of you,” as you nip at his ear, while pushing his trousers down past his hips.

Aemond gives a low growl in his throat, as you both try to rid each other of every piece of clothing, tossing everything aside until you both are on your knees, on his bed, exposed to each other's sight.

You can feel the flush of color spreading across your skin as you let your eyes wander over his beautiful body. You want to touch every inch of him, kiss every scar as you try to memorize each detail; everything from his tousled hair down to lean thighs. Your mouth waters at the sight of his firm cock, veins swollen with desire; you remember the feeling of being sinfully stretched by his perfect size.

He suddenly pulls you against him, crashing his lips upon yours. Your bodies now pressing together in your embrace, his hard muscles to your soft curves, as hands roam freely. You feel his now throbbing hardness pressed between you, he moans into your mouth as you move your hips against him. You can feel him almost shaking with need. When your fingers move between you to touch him there, he groans, “I will not last if you touch me, you will undo me, pretty girl.”

You smile at him as you run your palm over the tip of his cock, letting the wetness leaking from it coat your hand as you gently wrap your fingers around him, causing him to gasp.

“Lie down,” you tell him as you gently push your weight against him until he is resting on his back. With his cock still in your grasp, you lean over him, letting the moisture from your mouth drip over his reddened tip, using your hand to coat his length as you stroke up and down on his engorged cock, drawing a whimper from him.

“Shhh, you need this, let me…” you say, watching his face,his eye closing, and his mouth opening to let out a sharp exhale.

Aemond grabs a handful of your hair and tugs until he can press his lips to your face. “Don’t stop… so good to me,” he pants between wet kisses, as you squeeze him firmly, moving your hand faster.

While you continue to work his cock, he squeezes your ass with his strong hand. Before too long you can feel him start to buck his hips and he begins to twitch in your grasp. With a curse and a hiss of relief against your cheek, you feel his hot seed spurt and drip onto your hand.

“That appears to have soothed you,” as you bring your hand to your mouth and begin to lick his seed from it. He holds you close as he rests from his release, your bodies entangled while you softly trace some of the scars on his arm. You can feel his heartbeat gradually calm, his breathing slowing.

“Yes, it has, my sȳz riña. Now, how shall I reward my pretty girl for taking such good care of me, hmm?” He rolls you over onto your back, leaning over you, his weight braced on his arms, his hair a cascade of silvery paleness.

You raise your hands and rest them on the bed above your head, causing your back to arch slightly in the process, smiling up at him, “I shall accept whatever reward my prince thinks I deserve.”

With a smirk, Aemond lowers himself down to place a kiss at the base of your throat, and continues to lazily move lower, pausing occasionally to suck just hard enough to leave a mark on your skin. Lowering himself onto you, he moves to your breasts, cupping one in his large palm and teasing the other with his lips. “Gevie,” he whispers between leaving wet kisses on your skin, taking your nipple in his hot mouth, switching between licking and sucking, teasing the hardened peak with his tongue. His long fingers playing with your other breast, before he licks his way over to suckle you like a starving man.

Your nails graze his scalp as you hold his head to your chest, loving the attention he is showering on you, in a way no man has ever done before. You gasp as his teeth grazes the sensitive skin. Your body writhes under him as your desire races through you as you watch his mouth travel further down your body, nipping at your skin, until he pushes your thighs apart and settles between them.

He stares at your cunt, glistening with moisture, a wet spot on the bed beneath you.

”You are soaking the bed, you are so wet,“ he says as he flattens his tongue and licks a broad stripe between your folds, causing a shiver to go through you.

The flicking of his tongue over the sensitive bud has you fisting your hands and mewling with pleasure. Your eyes meet his as he begins to suck there, making you cry out softly. His relentless attention to that small bundle of nerves soon has your legs shaking. “Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs against your nub, encouraging the sensation building within you.

“Mmm…mmm, don’t stop,” you moan, grabbing a handful of his hair when the first burst of pleasure shoots through you, waves leaving you crying with bliss. As you reel from your peak, Aemond keeps licking, swirling his tongue around, licking the fresh wetness leaking from you before teasing your nub again.

“Aemond…” you pant, “too much…please,” shaking enough that he has to hold your hips still.

He literally hums against your bud as he says, “You’re making such pretty noises for me. I want to hear more, Y/N.”

You feel two of his fingers slide through your folds before pushing into your cunt, and you have to bite your lip to keep from moaning loudly. Tears are forming in your eyes at the continuous intense sensations you are feeling as he curls his fingers inside you to stroke your other sensitive spot, causing you to fist your hands above your head.

His long arm snakes up your body, to fondle your breast, teasing your hardened peak as he continues to flick his tongue against you. Your feel tingles all over, as you are at his mercy as he skillfully plays your body. When he is pumping three fingers inside you it triggers a rush of pure ecstasy that leaves you quivering and mewling.

With your chest heaving from your second peak, you watch Aemond place feather light kisses on your flushed skin, working his way up your body until you are face to face. You can feel that his cock is hard again as it presses against your trembling leg.

“You seem to be enjoying your reward,” he murmurs into your ear. “My sȳz riña.”

You can only sigh in response as you part your legs again, allowing his slim hips to nestle between them, feeling his cock against your cunt, coating it with your wetness. He reaches between your bodies to guide the tip of him into you, before gradually filling you with his entire length, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

You wrap your legs around his hips and your arms around his back as you feel the delicious stretch of him filling you. He holds still for a moment, staring into your eyes, waiting until you are ready for him to begin to move. With a slight nod and a whispered yes, he begins moving with long and slow thrusts into you.

“So perfect…you feel so good…” he whispers to you as he keeps up a steady pace of deep strokes. He rests his weight on his elbows and forearms, to keep his full weight off of you, though you keep pulling him closer, wanting to feel him against you.

Gradually increasing the rhythm as the need builds, you both continue to murmur praises to the other, while you watch the clear signs of pleasure on each other’s faces. As you feel your peak building again, you cling to Aemond as he plunges his cock harder and deeper until he feels your walls squeeze him tightly, sending him over the edge of his own release. Grunting against your skin, he keeps moving as his cock twitches inside you, spurting his seed, as you whimper and your bodies shudder in unison.

You are both utterly spent and feeling a blissful sense of contentment, as you lay in each other’s arms, catching your breath. He nuzzles your neck and sighs.

You could easily fall asleep in his arms, but that is not something you can afford to do, “ I will have to go soon. Will you be alright?” you ask.

“I do not wish you to go,” he replies, pulling you tighter, sounding somewhat sleepy himself.

You chuckle softly, " I still have duties to finish and I have been here in your chambers for hours. I can have your supper sent here, if you wish, but I need to go,” you kiss his forehead and try to get up, but he doesn’t let go.

“Thank you for staying with me…for all you do for me.”

Taglist: @arcielee

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #aemond smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction

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sprout-fics · 10 months

Note

Thots thots witcher 141 flirting cute with red only to realise she's doing the dirty with the werewolf?? Just bitten munched and scratched to hell?

Hahaha oops-

"What is this?" Soap asks suddenly from behind you, and the laughter dies in your throat. His hand grazes aside the fabric of your cape, reveals the tender flesh of your shoulder where a bruising bite mark lays against your skin. "...Red?"

You slap a hand over the wound before you can stop yourself, eyes wide with despairingly disbelief at being noticed. You turn to look up at Soap, only to catch the horror that etches clear across his expression.

"Wh-what-" He tries in his shock, and the room goes silent.

"Red?" Laswell asks from beside you gently, cautiously, reaching forward to lay a reassuring hand on yours.

You draw back as if you've been burned.

The thump of your heart in your chest is too loud, too harsh, and with your hand still holding the bite mark on your shoulder you shoot to your feet, the chair under you tumbling to the floor.

It's too obvious, but you can't help it. Soap looks at you with something in his eyes akin to fear, gaze flickering desperately between your face and your hand covering the bite.

"Lass-" he tries, but his voice is a croak in his throat.

"Soap."

Five sets of eyes, including your own, turn to Price. He's halfway risen out of his chair at the head of the table, eyes staring not at the Scot but at you.

"I-it's a bite." Soap manages, gesturing to you, looking lost.

"No." You try, voice tight, desperate. "No, it's-" yet then you lock eyes with Price, see the grim severity of his stare, and swallow down your protest.

"I-it wasn't during the full moon, I swear. He didn't-"

"He?"

You turn now to Laswell, who's distraught gaze fractures at your heart. Realization turns in her gaze, and her face sinks in despair.

"Oh Red." She whispers, her voice small and disappointed. "What did you do?"

Your lips part, trembling where you stand as you try to tell her, try to say what you want to, to convince them all this is just a mistake-

"The wolf." Price states, coming to the same realization in quick succession. His eyes soften for a moment as he looks at you, and in his gaze you see pain. "You were bitten by the wolf. And you didn't tell us."

"It's-" Soap interjects suddenly, and his face is pale as he looks at neither of you, trembling slightly as he stares unseeingly forward, eyes bright with fear.

"It's a mating bite."

#fic: rotes madchen #thursday night thots #oops this became angst haha #Delicious delicious angst

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nyimasu · 8 months

Text

─── WISTERIA, LUST, BLACK DRAGON

🀦. BLOSSOMS OF INK, INDEX

SYNOPSIS — Getо̄ and Gojо̄ are business partners and opened a studio together in the middle of Tokyo. You are one of their most loyal clients, especially since Shoko is a friend in common. One day, you finally decide on getting a tattoo, and that's where the magic happens: under Suguru's more than capable hands.

The rest is history.

CONTENT WARNING! — tattoo artist!getо̄ au, afab!reader (female anatomy and long, curly hair + tattoos), you're smitten with him as he is with you, mutual pining, gojо̄ is his own warning -> nipple piercing, toji is wearing a maid dress due to a bet he lost, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), multiple positions, cock piercing (getо̄), hair pulling, lots of pet names | WORD COUNT — 8.7k ( ao3 link )

ANYA'S CORNER—this series is my creature and I'm so proud of it that I want to post all three parts on tumblr again aw there's lots more for you to find out about this slice of universe I created from scratches, so stick around if you want to ehe Hope you like this and see you soon!

The needles penetrating your skin didn’t hurt at all.

They went back and forth on your body without being too invasive, even though you were getting a tattoo in one of the most sensible spots of the human body.

The lack of pain was all thanks to the delicate touch of the young man who was holding the little machine, his face half covered by a black mask.

Your best friend had already taken her leave the moment she realised her presence was unnecessary (much to your complaint): according to what she had whispered before waving bye, she really thought the artist was into you since the first moment you walked into the studio to discuss with him about the tattoo.

Now that you were all alone with him, you could totally understand Shoko's words. And they rang in the back of your head whenever you locked eyes with the long-haired boy, the intensity in its gaze as sharp as the edge of a knife. As if it wasn’t enough, you assumed the girl set up a sort of blind date with him, since you and the boy had her as a common friend.

You even found yourself gulping several times.

Oh heart of mine, be still you repeated in your head every time he looked at you.

«How’s going?» he asked while wiping the excess ink off the expanse of skin he was working on, «I noticed you tensed a bit when I got close to the back.»

«It’s going great! Oh, it's because my back has always been sensitive but don't worry. I thought I’d be in much more pain than I actually am, so thank you for everything.»

«No problem. Working on someone as stunning as you is never a bother, petal.»

You both froze at the same time. The pet name he’d just called you with should’ve made you uncomfortable, but it didn’t. Rather, you were sure your cheeks raised straightaway at that, and you cursed your shyness for showing your true colours so soon.

He has complimented you with ease, such a feeling that had never really belonged to you. And that was one of the reasons why you never had many relationships.

You’ve never been good at reading between the lines, either, but something in the way he said it suggested you to do so.

Maybe Geto Suguru wasn’t as subtle as Shoko declared him to be. That sleep-deprived fox really set you up.

«T-thanks, you’re too kind.»

«That’s not something I get to hear very often. I thank you for saying so» the low buzzing of the tattoo machine soothed your ears once again, «may I?»

Your eyes found him looking at your braid, asking for permission to move it aside. You nodded, shivering the moment his form came into frame and his gloved hand brushed against your abused skin. He gently pushed the braid away and you imagined his mischievous lips stretching into a smile behind the mask.

Damn, he really was handsome.

«There we go. If you wait a bit longer, your tattoo will be done and you can get up to stretch a bit.»

Since you were laying down on your right side, the tattoo artist had to lean over you, almost half resting his weight on you. The moment he took position again, you couldn't do anything else but take peaks at him now and then.

Yep, he still was horribly handsome and the fact he had prettier hair than yours aggravated your mood even more.

You deserved to have straight, long and healthy hair too. You got stuck with a long one, yes, but it was really curly and difficult to manage. Braids were one of the few methods to keep it at bay.

Suguru’s hair reflected the artificial light above him, strands of lush pitch-black silk akin to a panther's mantle possessively caressing his high cheekbones and then down, ending right in the middle of his broad back.

And his eyes… wow.

There was nothing to say about them but being careful not to lose every fragment of your psyche into their depth.

The sound of the tattoo machine prevailed over your thoughts and you finally raised your head to let it rest against your right arm. The professional bed you were laying on was very comfortable, so it was no big deal staying still while Geto's hands worked wonders on you.

The needles started to work on the rib cage some minutes later, and their sudden attack in such a soft spot had your muscles stiffening.

Nothing serious, but it took you off guard.

«I know it hurts like a bitch, but try to hang on tight, okay? You’ve been doing amazing so far. Actually, if I have to be honest with you, you’re one of the few clients I made tattoos for that never complained about the pain. You're a tough one.»

«I have a very high pain tolerance» you explained once your jaw unclenched, «and this is not the first tattoo I got in a sensible spot. I’m used to it.»

«Oh? Do you have others? Where?»

«You haven’t seen them yet? What a liar.»

Geto’s cheeks rose and you've never wanted to see his dimples as much as you did at that moment. Stupid mask.

Girl, what got into you today? Get a grip.

He was now staring right into your soul and you took advantage of the situation to get a better look at his half-hidden face. Despite the annoying obstacle, you could clearly see the contrast between the devilish and unbothered aura surrounding his form and the slightest hint of fatigue under his eyes. You thought it'd be so easy to stretch out a hand and caress that annoying nuance awa-

«I was too busy looking at your face, petal. I have a better look at a girl’s body after I've been on a few dates with her, but I can make an exception with you if you want.»

Now it was your turn to giggle and you couldn’t know it, but the way your nose scrunched and your eyes turned into a pair of half moons every time you laughed melted what was left of those thick ice barriers Suguru had erected around his heart, right after the ugly breakup he went through.

He also knew you had a habit of bringing a hand on your mouth to hide it but, given the circumstance you were currently in, he watched as you just inhaled to calm yourself.

The most beautiful creature his eyes ever had the privilege to lay on.

«I wouldn’t mind going on a date with you, you know.»

«You what-» the artist started but as soon as he put down the tattoo machine, your fingers chased after a strand of his hair.

It had been as natural as breathing.

Once they were wrapped around it, you tucked the strand behind his ear with such elegance that the boy was scared you might hear his heart skip a beat.

He acted all tough and badass around his friends/coworkers, but if pretty people touched him… well, he could fall apart right away.

The smile you put on after he got closer was self-explanatory.

You were the most clueless human being that ever walked on Earth. However, if you caught the signals at the right time, you turned into a completely different person.

Suguru was starting to see it with his own eyes.

You exuded charisma and eroticism with everything you did or said, especially when you stared at him through the fan of your lashes. Geto had always felt weak in the knees for gorgeous souls like you.

He loved it.

«Well, if you say so then I wouldn’t mind inviting you to my place for a drink tonight. Don’t look at me like that!» he shook his head after seeing the sceptical look on your face.

«I’m not that kind of person. Consent and respect are what I look for in everything, whether it is a nightstand or not. Think about it.»

And you did, even after you got up from the bed after six hours spent laying down in the tattoo studio right at the centre of Tokyo.

Suguru plopped on the chair close to the counter for a few minutes, cracking both his hands and neck to relieve some soreness accumulated during the day.

Without looking away from you, of course.

There was a hint of possessiveness in his eyes, maybe because the tattoo turned out to be even more beautiful than the draft you both created.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was because you were only wearing a lace bra and high-waisted pants.

Whatever the reason was, he couldn’t bring himself to shift attention to other stuff.

You, on the other hand, were completely oblivious to his thoughts. How could you be when the complex design of the permanent masterpiece in the mirror was staring back at you?

Wisteria was blooming right under your breast, covering half of the rib cage just to end right at the end of the right elbow, its branches taking a huge portion of your skin in a warming and inspirational hug.

«This is beautiful!» you screamed in excitement, eyes meeting him through the mirror.

«I’m sorry I took away a day of work from you. I’ll make sure I make up for it tonight.»

His eyebrows flew upward and you winked.

I won this round, my dear tattoo artist.

«I thought I’d already told you not to worry about it. But I'm impressed: you went through a very long session and you’re not even remotely fazed by it.

And yes, the tattoo turned out pretty good. I’m glad you love it.

Oh» he grabbed the ointment on the counter and walked back to you, «sit here. Yes, perfect. Let me apply some lotion all over the tattoo before you go. We don’t want it to get infected, do we?»

You propped yourself on an elbow to help Geto out the best you could until he was done.

«Thank you again.»

«Thank you to you, petal.» he finally took off his gloves and mask and threw them in the trash can.

And only then you internally sighed.

Finally free of anything that might hide his beauty, his face caressed by the fading sun rays, he was even more beautiful.

He looked like an ethereal being with the same elegance of a hunting panther.

The aforementioned was patiently waiting for you to dress again, eventually proceeding to escort you outside.

You two were so close that his hot breath fanned over your face. As you handed him the money, he bent forward and your fingers touched for a brief moment.

Again, he had no business being the most perfect man you ever seen. And those fingers were a dangerous temptation. Only to think he'd been onto you but at the same time didn’t almost drove you crazy.

You wanted to feel him everywhere.

The sudden urge to thrust a hand in his hair helped you snap out of it, your digits still mid-air after he took the money.

«I can come back here tonight for closing time. Is that okay for you?»

«Absolutely yes. And by the way, I already found one of your other tattoos.»

Before you could even reply, his plump lips were on your neck. Specifically, behind your ear.

Right where the tattoo of a rose had taken its place three years prior.

Shook by the abrupt intimacy, you tried to step away, but one of his arms encircled your waist.

«Don’t.»

You were a breath away from drooling when his forehead crashed onto yours, his body taut under the soft fabric of the sweater he was wearing. Much to your displeasure, his tattoos were all hidden by it today, but the hair was in full display. Yet fascinated by it, you raised a hand to rub another strand when other thoughts got in the way.

«May I?»

The boy complied, even though he didn’t know what you had in mind. Escaping his grip, you took off one of the hairbands on your wrist and used it to tie his hair into a man bun, the front strands framing his high cheekbones.

Geto enjoyed how delicate your touch was, but his eyes rolled in the back of the head when you accidentally pulled his hair to fix it.

«Uhm.»

You looked over to see what happened... only to find his eyes half lidded, lips parted to let out a muffled groan. The sound went straight between your legs, but you quickly got a grip on yourself and pressed a kiss on his jawline.

«See you tonight, then.»

Retrieving your bag from the sofa, you turned around to see the artist resting his head against the wall, the glossiness of his hair enticing beyond words.

He didn’t say anything back, just placed a thumb over your lower lip when you were within reach again. Then, making little circles on it, he licked his own.

«I can’t wait to find where your other tattoos are, you naughty thing.»

Your tongue playfully touched the tip of his thumb and he smirked.

You eventually gave in and admitted that there was so much sexual tension you could feel it in every gesture that elapsed between you two.

What was wrong with finding out where that hunger could lead you to?

Of course you did forget about something while on your way back to the tattoo studio. You always lived in your own world, but that day you’d really outdone yourself.

«Damn it.» you muttered to yourself half kicking the street half punching the air.

You had spent the last four hours getting ready for the date, looking for the best outfit -only to end up wearing the same jeans you had before and a cute crop top- and what food you wanted to bring at Suguru’s place because let’s be honest: you didn’t want to get drunk on an empty stomach. You tended to be extremely clingy if super tipsy, so food was needed.

But your forgetful ass left it right on the table.

Carefully wrapped and all.

The neon lights of the modest sign outside Geto’s studio were still on. The boy seemed still in the middle of a session with another client, so you decided to both wait for him and kill some time by running towards the nearest convenience store.

Priorities first.

Food.

Ten minutes later you were walking out of there, zaru soba and onigiris in a bag and heart slamming against your chest. You knew for sure it was the artist’s favourite food because every time you stayed over at his studio to work on the tattoo, especially during meal time, he ordered zaru soba for both of you.

It was time for you to pay him back for everything, starting from that.

Feeling as if someone was watching you, your eyes searched for the source of your wariness and found it a few metres away.

The dark-haired boy was waiting for you, a shoulder leaned against the studio’s outside wall. Hair still tied in the manbun, he had looked up from his phone again to stare at you and bam, your mind collapsed onto itself.

He got more and more beautiful with every encounter of yours, and it hadn't even been five hours since the last one.

To say it wasn’t fair would’ve been an understatement.

«Hello, petal. I saw you coming, but you were already heading to the convenience store before I could tell you I was ready, so I waited here. What did you buy?»

«Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were still working so I left for a while.

But look!» you leaned forward to let him see what you had in the bag.

«Since I know you skip your meals if you’re hella busy, I thought it’d be nice to have something to eat after work.

Onigiri?»

Suguru’s smile grew into a much bigger one and accepted the rice ball. If he hadn’t already been head over heels for you, he definitely would've started from then.

After leaning closer to your outstretched hand, he bit the ball of rice still in your hand and a little sigh of pleasure graced his lips. He hadn’t eaten in hours, so he was glad you brought something to munch on while heading to his place.

Before Geto could do anything else, however, a high-pitched scream coming from inside the studio had both you and him almost jump out of your skin.

What the heck was happening there?

«Did someone hit their foot or something?» worried and bit out of your mind — Suguru just ate half onigiri off your hand with lust possessively caressing his pupils —, you welcomed that heaven-sent distraction and crooked your head towards the open front door.

And a startled laugh erupted from your chest right away.

Geto Suguru’s best friend and business partner Gojo Satoru was currently quarrelling with a man dressed in a maid dress, and you realised it was the latter who yelled. And rightfully so, because Satoru had had the brilliant idea to slap the other man’s ass as soon as he had crouched down to pick up a trash bag.

Mind you, the skirt did nothing to cover his flesh.

«Leave me the fuck alone, Gojo.»

«Why would I? You lost the bet with me and Megumi, so suck it up. Punishment fits the crime.

You’ll have to clean the studio with this cute outfit on for the rest of the week, and I can do whatever I want with you.»

The shorter man went to hit Gojo with the plastic bag across the head, but stopped when your giggles filled the air. The poisonous words he was about to spit on him died out in his throat, and he turned alongside Gojo to make out who you were.

It was Satoru that clapped his hands together, the faintest hint of jest mixed with masculine pride tilting his lips upward as he looked up and down at you.

«Good evening, beautiful. Do you have an appointment? I’ll be ready in a sec.»

«I’m sorry, I don’t have one. I-» what were you going to say, anyway? That you accidentally eavesdropped their conversation while the tattoo artist behind you was about to suck your fingers?

Luckily to you, the man with shreds of light in his eyes and snowy hair preceded you, his elbows resting against the counter close to Geto’s workplace as his front faced yours.

«No need to worry about Toji over here. He looks as if he hates me, but he doesn't. I’m actually convinced he fancies me one tiny bit.

Oi, is that a new tattoo? Did you get it today?»

The other man briefly waved at you, then flipped off Gojo and walked away. He couldn’t disappear in the back of the place faster than he did, sighing profusely that “he was going to have a looong conversation with both Megumi and Gojo once he returned the dress to Tsumiki.”

«What? Ah», you laughed again once you followed his eyes on your right arm. «I did. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?»

«Stunning.» for a moment you thought he wasn’t talking about the tattoo at all, but like you’ve already said, you weren’t that quick at taking hints when it came to flirting. Not if you were too shy to reciprocate.

And right now, your mind was set on another equally gorgeous and talented man.

So you brushed off the compliment with a polite smile as you stared at his pectorals. More specifically, the erected buds brushing against the thin fabric of the shirt.

Hold on, it wasn’t just nipples. Oh my God.

This time it was Satoru who figured out what you were looking at and smirked, the action highlighting the tiny metal bars hiding under the garment.

«Hey, wanna come in? Even if you don’t have an appointment it’s fine. I might even give you a discount.» he straightened his back and slowly made his way towards you. At that your feet moved backward on their own accord. Out of instinct.

For he was akin to a hungry predator ready to jump on his prey the moment he felt your blood rushing more and more to your racing heart.

«I think an orbital would suit your ears the best. Or a tongue piercing, maybe?»

Suddenly the smell of cigarettes hit your nostrils, soon followed by the curtain of white smoke spreading behind you.

«Back off, Satoru. She’s with me.»

The piercing artist halted before he could cup your face and met Suguru’s gaze above your head. Pouting as his eyes trailed down your body one last time, he stepped back and raised his hands in defeat. Feigning faux guilt, of course.

«I know. I could recognise your style everywhere and you only had one client who requested a tattoo of a wisteria on the right arm.

Just wanted to make sure she was more into you than me, and she is. Usually people fall at my feet in less than three seconds when I give them the bedroom eyes, but she didn’t bulge one bit. Congratulations.»

«You’re such a slut.»

You couldn’t help but grin at that, watching the two men coming back at one another’s throat with delight filling your mind. They were two peas in a pod.

«Okay petal, time to go.» firm was Suguru’s grip on you when he wrapped his arm around your waist, and you let him with a little yelp.

If he wanted, he could’ve lifted you off the ground with a single hand.

«Have fun guys. Oh!»

With one hand strategically placed on Geto’s face, distancing him enough to prevent him from hearing what Gojo was about to whisper in your ear.

And when he did, you were glad Geto was holding you.

Ten minutes later you were taking a walk with the tattoo artist because, according to the boy, his flat wasn’t that far from the studio. So you followed his lead, eating and talking about a lot of topics… except the one Gojo asked you to keep for yourself until you and Suguru were home. You still couldn’t believe what that flirty man had confessed.

However, now you were discussing fashion while a tuna onigiri stuffed your cheeks.

«You wear harnesses everyday and you’re coming for my style? Are you serious? You’re wearing one even now, the hell.»

«Of course I am. And for the record, I’m not the one here who wears revealing clothes 24/7.»

«I beg your pardon?»

You were getting all worked up over the crop top ‒ which wasn’t gauzy, bloody hell ‒ when he suddenly stopped. You were both facing the door of what you supposed was the boy’s place.

After he opened the door, you expected him to walk in and welcome you in the flat. Wrong, because he first looked at you, then a half-whispered confession escaped his lips that you heard anyway.

«But I’ve never said I was mad about it. I have a thing for see-through clothes.»

«I swear to God, if you don’t stop-»

His words cut through your rambling. «What? What do you want to do to me?»

He didn't give you time to prepare yourself because practised, long fingers rested behind your neck as he pulled you in for a sudden yet hasty kiss that soon turned your knees into jelly.

You soon obliged in consent to let him deepen the kiss, his tongue chasing yours as his fingers wrapped around the back of your thighs. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you hadn’t even realised you were inside his apartment already until you saw a black couch behind his back.

Alas, his plans all went down the drain when a dark grey fluffy ball mewled against his leg to get his attention. You laughed in the kiss, seeing how desperate that cutie was acting to get some attention.

Suguru’s eyes locked with the Nebelung cat and groaned. «Nen, you little troublemaker. It’s half past midnight and you’re still up. Don’t you see we have a lady tonight? I have to take good care of her.»

Nen apparently wasn’t having any of it tonight because she mewled again at the owner and walked towards the bowl.

Oh, her Majesty was hungry.

«Go», you chuckled as you untangled your legs from his distressed form «I’m not going anywhere. And if I recall, you promised me a drink earlier.»

He rolled his eyes, scolding Nen for interrupting even after he had crouched down to feed the beautiful long-haired cat.

As the not-so-tough artist fetched two wine glasses and placed them onto the table to pour red wine, you came to stand next to him with a toothy smile and grabby hands.

You were an instant boost of serotonin that kicked into his veins, and he couldn’t really wrap his head around the idea you could be both so hot and cute at the same time.

His thoughts exactly reflected yours, although you were quite sure he didn’t know how much his beauty, aura and personality impacted others. He was so, so gorgeous inside and outside, yet he still struggled to let his truest self emerge.

«You were planning on getting me drunk without eating anything first, didn’t you? But I read through your schemes, Geto Suguru.» a shiver ran down his spine when you said his name.

«I’m not that naive.»

«Ouch. What made you think so bad of me, petal?»

You giggled, the braid swinging against your spine and fingers on the black harness around his thigh. He hadn’t noticed it yet, your clueless and sexy tattoo artist.

Mine you repeated that single word to yourself like a mantra, jolts of confidence radiating through your entire system.

God, he really was a sight to see.

«I’m messing with you.» you took a sip of the thick liquid and leaned against the kitchen counter for support, «wow, this tastes amazing.»

«I’m sure you taste even better.»

For the first time in a while, butterflies fluttered in your stomach. Tilting your head up, you put down the glass behind you and locked eyes with him.

«You believe so?»

«Uhm-uhm.» his fingers were once again on you, but this time they were after the braid. When he finally undid and brought it forward, curls landed on your chest. A soft chuckle left his throat, fingertips playing with your curls as his eyes devoured yours.

Breath stuck in your throat, you watched as he finished the drink in his other hand and oh my God, wetness had pooled in your panties already.

And he did the bare minimum to turn you on.

You were whipped for this man and Geto could tell it as well by the way you bit your lower lip while staring at his plump ones.

«Shoko really set us up in the best way possible.»

«Well, as they say: the devil works hard, but she really works harde-

Ah.» you whimpered, bracing yourself on the counter with Suguru’s digits now tracing the wisteria on your arm with delicate touches. He then proceeded to go down, until his fingers tugged at the hem of your top… and that’s when you clicked your tongue.

«You’ve already seen me half-naked plenty of times. It’s about time I see you taking off your clothes first.»

With a snort he broke away, but stayed close enough for you to feel his thighs twitch against yours.

«Deal, but I haven’t seen all of your tattoos yet.»

«You will soon enough.» was your response before taking in how he impatiently got rid of the black sweater. It landed on the floor, close enough to land where Nen’s kennel was. However, the little girl was nowhere to be seen. You went to ask where she was when Geto motioned you to look behind your back.

And you saw her sleeping soundly on the couch.

«The queen is sleeping there. We might as well go to my bedroom, mmh?»

You nodded and for a moment you almost forgot about your partner’s semi-nudity. Or Gojo’s words.

Yeah, almost.

Because the sight of the monochromatic dragon adorning the entire left side of his body seared into your brain. You’ve always seen part of it before, but now it was displayed on his flawless skin for you to explore with your eyes, your fingers.

Your lips.

He walked past the counter and his bare back held other tattoos, such as the lotus flower behind the neck, or the complex design of a sleeve on his left arm. All while Satoru’s words boomed in your brain like thunder bolts just crossed the sky.

Oh man, you weren’t going to make it out alive tonight.

Feeling your eyes consuming him, Geto’s tongue licked yet again his lower lip, but you tore your eyes away from his bare chest out of sheer despair and left in a hurry. He caught up in no time, taking your hand and guiding you to the right room.

«I love that look on your face. You see my tattoos and get all flustered. It shows I got under your skin just as much as you got under mine.»

He didn’t want to let you catch a breath or see how nice or tidy the bedroom was, considering how eager he was. His prominent erection against your back and the way he subtly bucked his hips up to yours to edge you spoke volumes about what he wanted at the moment.

You, falling apart under him.

Somehow, you managed to stay on your own feet in spite of his fingers yanking your jeans past the hip bones and then down, right where you were already taking care of the shoes. It didn’t take long for him to help you discard them and, while you kicked the piece of fabric and the boots out of the way, your index and thumb unleashed his hair.

Silk strands grazing both your faces, you gave yourself no time to dwell on it: still with your back on him, you shoved one of your hands among his locks to pull at the roots and grinded on him.

Eye for an eye, angel.

He moaned in your ear, something that has never happened with any of the male partners you had before. They thought it was too “girly”.

Bullshit.

Boys who groaned in their lovers’ ears were fucking hot.

«Fuck. I’ve never said you could call the shots, though.»

«I-» he cut you off again, tilting your head up to let your lips meet again. This time the kiss was as rough as the man fondling your breast still embraced by the crop top. As if you shared one mind, Suguru grabbed it and almost tore both open.

Action that earned him another pull at his hair.

«Careful» he breathed in your mouth, «or I won’t be gentle.»

«I’ve never asked you to.»

“You’re his petal, are you? Then listen to me: there's more to this than meets the eye when Suguru is involved, ‘kay? Buuuut, you’re in for a very big surprise with him. You see…”

Before he could stop you, your knees hit the carpet with a thud. After spinning so that you were now facing the crotch of his black cargo pants, he shook his head.

«Is this your idea of ‘making up’, petal?»

«Complaining already? I thought all boys loved good head.» staring back at him, a pout already gracing your bruised lips, Geto sat at the edge of the bed. Then he watched as you crawled on the carpet on all fours, drinking in the view of your half-naked body.

«I'm not like any other man you've encountered.»

No, he really wasn't.

As you shrugged, he finally caught a glimpse of your other tattoos: leaving the rose aside, the outline of a black snake on your thigh captured his attention right away. It was beautiful, its design and realisation something only a skilled tattoo artist could pull off without ruining the final outcome. A woman had worked and executed the tattoo, there was no doubt about it. Generally speaking, women were more detail-centred than men were, and that was the case with the tattoo.

He wasn’t the type to judge girls for what they decided to get on their skin. How could he, when it was literally his job to please them in that way?

Many uncultured, hypocrite people -namely men hidden behind their fragile ego and toxic masculinity- would’ve considered your tattoos too “aggressive” or “the best way to turn off a dude”.

Someone had had the chance to put their hands on you before he did. Strangely to say or even think, jealousy swallowed him whole in the blink of an eye.

The boy was so engrossed in his task that he hadn’t felt your hands free him from the confines of his pants until your startled gasp reached him.

Gojo wasn’t lying.

Your fingers first brushed against his bare, tensed thighs and the long-haired tattoo artist sucked in another moan. Then you stared at his cock with such intensity Geto feared you had a change of heart. Still panting, he cupped your face with a hand and in doing so, his eyes wandered downward.

And saw where the head of the snake rested.

«Satoru told you, right? Of course he did» he didn’t sound angry or disappointed, just resigned, «he never misses the chance to say he’s seen my cock fir-»

«Ssh.» you stopped your partner’s reasoning with a kiss right on his happy trail, descending until you locked eyes with him and smirked.

And Gojo's words ricocheted in your mind.

“-he was the first person who trusted me enough to put his hands on. But you'll see for yourself how fitting and nice a dick piercing looks on him.”

What a pretty, pretty boy.

«He told me. But let me get you onto something real quick.» your index came across the tattoo of what you believed was a customised carnation. It was standing proud on his rib cage, some space apart from the huge tail of the dragon on the arm.

If he was taking his sweet time admiring your tattoos, nothing prevented you from doing the same.

«I don’t care. I like pretty jewellery on attractive men and you, angel, are exactly that.

And I fuck them really good.»

He was trying his best not to drag you onto the bed and show you how good he was going to fuck you after what you just said, but he preferred to let his fingers wander, reaching down to caress the head of the snake marked on your hip.

Its forked tongue ideally licked the hip bone, and it was the exact same thing you were doing on his inner thigh.

Suguru was far from being intimidated. He’d been the first one among his friends to fully embrace who he really was, starting from his physical appearance and preferences.

He’d come to terms with both his flaws and qualities a long time ago.

What mattered to him the most, after all those years spent trying to be someone the society wanted him to be, was authenticity. And you were giving him plenty of it tonight.

Just being there with him, physically and mentally naked, was enough for the artist to make him go.

«Lick it, petal.»

Your tongue was now roaming over the metallic bud whilst a ragged breath from his part caressed the back of your head. His muscles spasmed under the slightest touch, signalling you he was at his limit already.

Nonetheless, the moment you actually took him into your mouth, moaning because of the salty precum coating your mouth and hand covering the base of his cock, he couldn’t do anything else but sternly whip at your hair.

And a loud whimper left your lips.

«So I’m not the only one here with a thing for hair pulling, uh?» his cocky smile was the last thing you saw before he beckoned you closer to him.

You arched your back a bit so that your elbows rested on both thighs, pushing them aside to give you more space.

Expert fingers were yet again yanking at the roots when your lips embraced more of his girth and you almost gagged. It was no easy task, since the man was so aroused and girthy and- God, he sounded so breathless and whiny as he thrusted into your mouth.

«Just like that. Take more of me into that pretty mouth of yours» faux innocence dripped from every single syllable, «I can’t even imagine what being inside you feels like. Yet.»

That last sentence would’ve elicited a profuse string of whimpers, but you were too concentrated on making him moan again. So you simply hummed and slid your mouth further down on his cock, causing the boy to grip at the sheets and then fall on his elbows.

You patiently licked and kissed every inch of skin you could reach, stealing glances at him from time to time. Then eagerness got the best of you.

You took all of him in your mouth again in one, smooth move.

«A-ah.» Suguru’s voice cracked seeing your nails digging into his inner thighs, but what almost made him go insane was when you flattened your tongue against the prominent vein of his cock, dragging it along its entire length until you wrapped around his frenulum. And you rubbed your tongue on it, the cold and hard texture of the piercing sinking into the tender flesh of your wet muscle as Geto moaned again.

«Fuck.»

He was going to thank Satoru someday, of course.

However, he had no intention to come in your mouth when he hadn’t tasted you yet.

Before you could finish what you started, the long-haired boy tugged at your hair hard enough to make you sigh. Tumbling off of him, slick glistening on your lips, you watched as he plopped down on his back. He still was painfully hard, but Geto’s mind was drifting towards other directions.

«Come here», he motioned you to straddle him and when you did, his pads on your bottom lip gathered the mixed fluids on it. «We’ll continue this another time. Now, move forward.» «Did I hurt you?» «Not at all.»

Confused, you did as he said, and as soon as you felt him push you upward for your head to hit the headboard, a sudden yet pleasurable feeling there shook you to the core. You hadn’t realised it ‘till now, but you still had your panties on.

Well, what was left of it.

Saying that you were so wet that the fabric almost completely disappeared would’ve been a huge euphemism.

Suguru rose to his feet and, without you noticing, he stepped back and brought a hand to his mouth to hide his satisfied smile.

You were there, in his bed. Curls covered half of your back, including the section he so accurately marked for hours.

Before today, he'd never thought you’d accept going on a date with him in the first place, let alone ending up at his place.

In his bed.

But the moment you linked eyes with him almost two months before in his studio, Geto just knew he had to be with you.

One way or another.

Moans airily passing through your lips, you clenched around nothing when his digits brushed against your drenched sex. He was playing with you, just like a lover would’ve done on a passionate night with their significant other.

«G-Geto.»

His movements came to a halt altogether, and you mentally slapped yourself for speaking. You were really great at ruining the atmosphere.

«Yes, petal?»

«Did I do something wrong? I mean, I’m pretty sure I messed up something since I’m a bit rusty, so-»

The tattoo artist cut short what he was sure would’ve been a very long, unnecessary apology by placing his lips on your earshell. You leaned closer to have a better view of his body towering over you, but nothing could prepare you for what happened next.

Almost simultaneously, his hand pushed down your panties and whispered:

«Nothing of the sort. You’re too good at giving head, I almost came the second I felt your tongue dragging along my piercing» shivers of both embarrassment and pride harpooned you as he continued. «But I’m too impatient for that. All I want right now is to eat you out from behind like the starved man I am.

I need you on my tongue.»

That being said, he left hungry kisses on his way back to where you needed him the most.

Making sure you could reach the headboard anytime, you waited for your partner to finally get his way with you. And he did shortly after, kissing and then lapping up the wetness gathered between your thighs with his tongue.

A tongue that soon breached past your entrance in no time.

You mewled, lurching forward to get some kind of break from that intimate kiss.

Not on his watch, though.

One of his arms gripped your waist and pushed backward, right where he demanded you to be. It only took him a moment to convince you to spread your legs wider on the bed, so that he could better lick up into you.

«Just like I thought: you taste amazing.» he stated under his breath.

The implicit compliment had your cheeks burning, pretty lame in such a situation.

If he had been really close to cum when you touched him, you were literally shreds of seconds away from losing your mind.

Not only was he sucking on your clit like his life depended on it, but he used two digits to part your folds and then, just then, dug them so deep goosebumps spread all over your arched spine.

He was hitting each sweet spot of yours with disarming carelessness, further proven by the moment he hooked fingers into you: that way, it was impossible to snap your legs close.

Not that you wanted to push your luck.

«Please» you fell onto your elbows and hid your face in the pillow, «I-I can’t take it.»

Words fell on deaf ears because he wasn’t done with you. Nose bumping against your sensitive bundle of nerves, he scissored his fingers apart.

And all of a sudden, neither his fingers nor mouth were close to you.

The desperate cry for the abrupt lack of touch building up within you was promptly interrupted by Geto’s touch on your back. He felt you were close, so he decided to stop and eventually keep his promise to rail you.

«You can. That’s why you’re here.» kisses on your spinal cord. «Tonight.» maddening fingers on your breast. «With me.»

For God’s sake, girl, you better grow a pair.

Talk back.

There was so much you wished to tell him. Alas, your mind was so clouded by pleasure that you just bucked into his touch for more, completely unaware of the fact Suguru was fascinated by the way you appeared.

Sweat grazing both of you, foreheads sticky with it, he nibbled on the skin near the jaw to get your attention. You looked back at the black-haired man, expecting him to lift you up or shift position.

Nothing. Was he waiting for you to say something?

«Did the cat get your tongue?»

Somehow your voice came back alongside a fair share of bratness. «Nah, it’s still here. See?» you flicked it out to prove it. «Want me to say anything in particular, angel?»

The tattoo artist cackled in your ear. Pet names could work both ways, apparently.

«You tell me.» «What about a new necklace? Can you give it to me?»

For the first time in a while, Geto Suguru furrowed his eyebrows in utter confusion.

How the fuck was he supposed to buy a necklace right before going down on you?

The dark-haired boy’s eyes met yours, eyes blown dark with lust and a never ending hunger that only a few had had the gut to face.

Before he could understand what was going on, you lifted yourself up to let your soon-to-be abused hole caress his tip a few times, eliciting soft moans from the two of you.

The coldness of the jewellery had you freezing at first, but then its gradual warmth enhanced the crazy libido agitating itself within you.

Breathing each other in, you moved down until his shaft broke past your entrance. And realisation hit him as he was halfway through your pussy, pants falling past your lips. Without altering the pace set by you, the artist wrapped his fingers around your neck and moaned yet again in your ear.

«A ‘necklace’ it is. I got myself a kinky girl, didn’t I?

I’m flattered.»

You sighed in response. The feeling of his pulse strumming away at your insides was too overwhelming, almost addicting. You couldn’t blurt out any sort of coherent answer.

He took the lead soon after your body went in override against his, bottoming out and ramming himself back inside in a matter of seconds. He slammed down his mouth on your own to suffocate your shared moans when the piercing plonged at the apex of your walls.

«I’ll only wear it when you’re around.»

«As you should» his teeth latched into your throat, «you’re doing so well, petal.

It almost feels like you were made to take my cock only.»

Fingers you loved having on you pressed the zone around your windpipe, and that caused you to arch off while Suguru’s thrusts gained strength.

Pleasure occluded your senses just as the boy tugged back at your head to steal a kiss, his eyes almost rolling in the back of his head when your digits found harbour in his hair.

«It feels s-so good, S-Su-», you unladyously groaned «Sugu’.»

The sound of skin slapping against skin faded to the background of your mind, Geto’s fingers adding more pressure on your throat’s sides. Nonetheless, you felt him twitching inside you.

Was he into pet names that much?

«Say it again.» no amusement this time, just pure excitement filling his raspy voice. You went to speak again when breath got knocked out of your lungs.

He had flipped you over so that now you were facing a very excited Geto, his hand still on your neck and dick buried deep in you.

Okay, he definitely was.

You shrouded your eyes as he laid you down on the bed, but they were again on him when his thumb pinched the skin right where the tip of his cock was driving through into your core and up to the cervix. It almost hurt how full you felt at that moment.

«Don’t stop, Sugu’.» you pleaded. He shook his head, his other hand on your hip.

Your own enclosed his face to bring it closer to yours, initiating a kiss that convinced the man to continue what he was doing.

Alluring whimpers reached your ears, just what you needed to give in to the sensation of him filling you up to the brim.

Both you and him were so close to your releases. He especially was, his movements sloppy and hips stuttering with every thrust you desperately took in stride.

«Look at me.»

You hadn’t even noticed your eyes had wandered off from Suguru's’s face until he pointed it out. He was now pistoning into you slower, but he still was as perceptive and caring as he’d been at the start.

«Yes, keep your eyes on me. God, you’re so fucking gorgeous» he pecked your nose as his voice lowered. «Can I come inside you?»

You went to compliment him back when he hit another spot of yours, causing you to scream in your hand and nod at his question. «Oh, my God. R-right there.»

After that he resumed hitting that spot until you tensed under him, your back arched off the mattress to meet his heavy chest.

You pushed one another over the edge into a kaleidoscope of fragmented lights, riding through your orgasms until the aftershocks rolled over you both.

Geto kissed you for a very long time for so long after you were done, lazily rocking his hips against yours to fuck both your releases back into your dripping hole. Actually, you weren’t even sure how much time had passed since he took you in his arms to get to the bathroom and back on the bed.

A core memory of yours, however, was him delicately wiping the sweat off your body, kissing your forehead before taking a quick shower to come back to you.

He really had fucked you stupid.

«A penny for your thoughts.»

His hand covered yours under the clean sheets you two had put on. The smell of sandal lulled you as your body went limp against his, indulging in his touch for a bit before replying.

«Shouldn’t it be ‘a tattoo for your thoughts’? I find it more fitting.»

«Just because you slept with a tattoo artist doesn’t imply you get free tattoos from now on, you little vixen.»

He narrowed his eyes and the view of him getting mad over something you made up on the spot had you laughing against his chest.

He was jealous, and for now that was more than enough to make you feel desired.

You hadn’t felt that way for so long.

«Kinky girl.» «Shut up.» He traced the form of your other tattoo in the inner part of the left arm. «Make me.»

And you shut him up for the rest of the night, exploring every inch of his skin until brushes of light orange and pastel yellow washed away the purple and deep blue nuances of the night.

«You’re lucky tomorr- I mean today, it’s my free day. Otherwise I didn’t know how to bring you there.»

Knowing where he was coming from, but unable to stop it, you sighed. You should’ve been prepared for the inevitable.

«Where?»

«To buy you a necklace, petal.» he leaned closer to kiss your pout away

«This lovely neck of yours needs a choker that does its job when I’m not around.»

«You’ll never let me go away with this, will you?»

Strands of silk brushed against your face as Suguru caressed your tattoo.

«Never. But I’ve marked you in other ways, don’t you think? Many ways, actually. By the way, you have some lovely tattoos.

Would you like to talk about them some day?»

«Absolutely. Give me some hours to recharge my batteries and I’ll be yours. Oh, and that harness you wore yesterday? I want two of them.»

«Fine. But if you’d like to wear it for lunch, for instance, you better ingrain in your brain that’ll be the only thing you'll be wearing for the rest of the day.»

Geto left a kiss at the corner of your lips as you processed what he just explicitly proposed.

And you surprised yourself even more when you got up and your hand clamped on the bone of contention five minutes after. God only knew how you managed to detect it among all those clothes scattered all over the floor.

«What if I wear it now? Would that intrigue you?»

«I’m very much intrigued by you already, my petal» Suguru watched you from across the room and tilted his head to the side, «but I might be damned if I try to stop you from doing such a thing.»

My petal you kept repeating those two words in your head, savouring them on your tongue.

Nope, never getting tired of how it sounded.

Once you were done with the leathery accessory, you caressed the material with a finger and walked towards your partner.

His gaze pierced through the window of your soul even after your legs had settled on the outside of his thighs. You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding in as his lips closed around your hard nipple, gush of lust dripping down your legs all over again.

That time, though, he wasn’t the least interested in taking charge.

«Suddenly I’m not sleepy anymore.» he affirmed, amused yet turned on by the sight of you wearing nothing but one of his harnesses.

Henceforth, he’d let you wear it anytime you wanted if that made you happy.

«Good.» your whispers on his neck gave him goosebumps. «’Cause I want to ride your dick ‘till we both have enough. Told you I fuck attractive men real good.»

The statement stirred delight within the tattoo artist, his long hair untamed when his lips clashed against yours.

Amusement wasn’t the only thing that sprang out after that, though.

«Then do it, petal. I’m waiting.»

#geto suguru #geto x reader #geto x you #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #voice of cassandra

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