#winsome’s answers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loafgeto · 6 months

Text

I'M BETTER, AREN'T I? | geto suguru

geto suguru x fem!reader

synopsis: your boyfriend isn’t satisfied with the sex life you both have and suggests an open relationship. in the mean time, he sends you to a sex coach to get better.

contents: no curses au, fem!reader, she/her pronouns, 18+ mdni, nsfw, explicit language, open relationship, semi-plotted. smut contents: semi-public sex (suguru’s office), foreplay, dirty talking, praising, breast play, cunninglus, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, mentions of multiple creampies, orgasms, blowjob, throat fucking, size kink, corruption kink, somewhat breeding kink(???), ass grabbing, pet names (princess, baby, darling kind of). not proofread!!

word count: 4.3k

note: i was so hard when writing this. anyway enjoy this short fic while i go cry at my assignments and pull my hair out

“this doesn’t usually happen,” he utters quietly, lips against the bare skin of your shoulder. you’re situated on his lap, your back facing him as his middle finger rubs against your clit. you moan softly at the sensation, feeling his other hand spread your legs wider.

“w-what doesn’t?” you question, biting your bottom lip as you slowly turn your head to look down at him.

“this,” he replies with a coo, pushing two fingers into your dripping hole causing you to gasp. he begins to pump his fingers in and out slowly, observing your erotic face as you begin to moan with each sensation. “i shouldn’t be doing this with a client, y’know? i could get fired.”

right. this doesn’t happen at all.

this all started a few days ago— when you and your boyfriend were having an intimate night. he was your first boyfriend, and the person you lost your virginity to. in hindsight, you had no prior experience to sex and your boyfriend became extremely upset over that.

he claimed he was unsatisfied with the sex life he had, and that statement worried you. was he going to break up with you because you couldn’t satisfy him enough during sex? you were paranoid over any possibility, and practically begged him that you’ll be better— do better.

so he suggested an open relationship. you were totally against it, confused on why such thing was needed. he claimed that it was a way to experience and explore his needs and wants that you couldn’t give him properly. it shattered your heart, but he got you to agree to the open relationship by saying he only loves you and that he wanted the best for the two of you.

and for the mean time, he recommended you to see a sex coach. you had no idea what a sex coach could possibly do, but your boyfriend said that it was the best option on making you a better person at sex. so you agreed, and he arranged an appointment for you to someone he knew from his college days.

hence, led you to encounter geto suguru.

him and your boyfriend met during a psychology class, and became seat mates for the semester. suguru was studying psychology, wanting to become a neuropsychologist and had sex coaching as a side job. it was all you knew from the information your boyfriend gave you, but other than that, this man was a complete stranger that you had to talk to about your unfortunate sex life.

when you first saw suguru, you didn’t expect someone like him to be a sex coach. he was muscular, tall and winsome. he’d fit the role of a corporation’s leader, managing hundreds of people and leading them to success. but he was in a chair, coaching individuals and couples about sex.

it took a while for you to approach him with how unsatisfied your boyfriend was with the sex life in the relationship. and how you both agreed to open relationship. you didn’t know what you ever did wrong, and you were always open to try new things— well, because you absolutely knew nothing when it comes to what good sex is. suguru listened to it all, nodding his head as if he was making a mental note about it.

but what about your needs? suguru would ask. what do you want or like?

to answer his question— you had absolutely no idea. you were always in the mindset of satisfying your boyfriend that you don’t even know what you want or like when it comes to sex. suguru was rather surprised, but he didn’t inquire further before changing the entire purpose on why you were there.

how about we figure out what you like?

there was no reason to deny, therefore you agreed. he started asking how you liked being touched, or what do you like hearing your partner say. however, you didn’t have much of an answer to that either. when your boyfriend wanted to have sex, he would usually take the lead and tell you what position to be in or what not— and that was because he enjoyed those things.

can you demonstrate for me? you asked him. the question sounded so novice, so unthreatening— that pure look in your face caused suguru’s heart to ache and he had absolutely no idea how to demonstrate without using you. you were practically vulnerable.

i can’t do that— he replies in a gentle manner. your eyes were pleading for him, reaching him for some sort of help that he couldn’t deny. knowing how desperate you were, he was willing to help you.

suguru would then find himself sitting next to you. with your permission, he’d snake an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. he was much bigger, stronger than your boyfriend that it made you feel weak. you could even smell the scent of his cologne as your body inched closer to his. you could barely look at suguru in the eyes, but he turned your face towards him with his other hand. he was gentle with you and his words, asking where he should start and if you were comfortable.

when it came to foreplay, your boyfriend never issued it before having sex— he’d just kiss you and push you down on the mattress. so you had no clue where suguru should start. suguru pondered for a moment, suggesting that he would take the lead and if you liked something, you would tell him. same thing went for something you didn’t like. you nod in agreement and he started rubbing his hand between your inner thigh.

you’ve felt your boyfriend’s hands on your thighs multiple times, but it was nothing compared to how sensually suguru was doing. his hot breath brushed against your ear and his other hand began caressing the side of your hips, causing your body to tremble. suguru asked if you liked it, to which you could only nod. you were gradually getting turned on, and suguru’s purring voice in your ear triggered it even more.

your pussy was quivering and soaking your panties. it was wrong to be turned on like this from a stranger, how would your boyfriend feel? you were too paranoid about that possibility, and when suguru noticed your reluctance, he stopped and made you face him.

remember, you’re in an open relationship. he reminds you. he didn’t mean to imply it harmfully— rather, he wanted you to relax, and not worry about what your boyfriend might feel. however, suguru already knew that your boyfriend could care less, he was probably fucking someone else at the moment. i’ll take care of you, trust me.

you had to tell yourself that you were the one who asked suguru to help you, so there was no turning back now. i want you to kiss me, you request and suguru couldn’t reject it. he leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours and you immediately return the kiss. it started off passionately and he pushed you down on the couch.

after the short makeout session, suguru placed you on his lap. one of his hands had unzipped your pants and was pushed underneath your panties. you moaned at the feeling of his fingers gliding down your wet pussy. you were so wet and it sent blood rushing to suguru’s dick.

you’re so wet. hear that? suguru whispered and pushed your pants down along with your underwear. you were completely surprised, trying to cover yourself though his grip on your thighs kept you from doing so. are you ever this wet for your boyfriend?

you shake your head. no. suguru was the first person to ever make you this wet, and with that fact, it made suguru feel empowering over your boyfriend. after several teases with your clit, suguru had you take off your shirt— leaving you in a bra. your skin was so soft and delicate. suguru badly wanted to mark you all over, show your boyfriend what he was missing. however, he reminded himself that he was working.

thus, lead to the mention that something like this never happens. it was true, sex coaching doesn’t involve sex at all. suguru was always helpful to his clients, and he’s never laid a hand on any of them until you. a few nights ago, he received a call from your boyfriend— they don’t regularly speak to each other, but had each other’s contact ever since graduation.

suguru was informed about you, and listened to the complaints your boyfriend had about you. it was irritating to say the least, how someone could degrade their partner like that? but it seemed your boyfriend didn’t care what suguru had to say, at least, not yet.

“it’s okay, ‘guru. i-i’m not going to tell anyone-“ you reply, moaning when his fingers curl and pump deeper into your pussy. suguru’s fingers were much longer and thicker than your boyfriend’s, it brought you a different ecstatic feeling.

“yeah? well, you gotta keep your voice down if you don’t want anyone to hear, princess,” suguru whispers, pressing a kiss on your shoulder before slipping his fingers out of you. catching your breath, you watch as he raises his fingers soaked in your arousal. “see how wet you are? just because of me, huh?”

“mhm..” you reply, nodding your head before he pushes those same fingers back into you. your head falls back slightly while suguru latches his mouth on your shoulder to suck the skin.

suguru pushes your bra up with his other hand, immediately groping your breast and gently pinching your nipple with his thumb and index finger. you’re unable to contain your moans as they reach a higher pitch. his fingers spreads your walls perfectly, reaching your deepest spots that your boyfriend could never reach with his fingers.

“mm- suguru!” you had to cover your mouth with a hand, feeling a knot forming in your stomach. you were reaching your first orgasm, and suguru noticed from the way your walls clenched around his fingers.

suguru grunts, fastening his fingering pace— still sucking and licking the skin area of your shoulder. you could feel his erection poking your ass, and you could tell he was big. so fucking big. it even caused you to fantasize about him shoving his cock deep into you, making you cum instantly. well, you had no idea how cumming felt like for you, since your boyfriend would usually be the one to finish before you. but suguru— he was making sure you’ll cum.

his grip on your boob was another feeling you’ve came to enjoy. the way suguru fondled with the fat of your breast and pinched your nipples was completely different from when you had to do it yourself. suguru gave both of your breast attention with his big hand, and it was enough for you to cum.

you came all over him without warning, moans muffled underneath your hand as suguru pushes his fingers out. your body dropped and fell back against his before he held you closely, hearing the sound of your heart beating against his chest. he hums, pressing soft kisses on your neck before moving his lips back near your ear.

“call me whenever.”

your sessions with suguru continued to occur for a span of two months.

while your boyfriend was out doing his own things, you would set regular sex coaching appointments with suguru. and if not, you’d be at his house doing a session. your boyfriend never inquired much about your whereabouts or what you were doing, besides that he knew you were with suguru. therefore, your time with suguru allowed you two to form a closer bond, and share personal things and secrets.

you were even comfortable enough to share about your sexual fantasies you had of him. and how you desired to feel him inside of you, touching and kissing you all over. you wanted to know how good sex felt, and suguru was willing to give you that.

and after the first time, you both couldn’t stop seeing each other. you were able to experience things and new feelings, and you began to develop feelings for the man.

aside from his personality when it came to sex, he was kind and generous, polite to everyone, and incredibly smart. when you visited him at his workplace, all of his co-workers would be around him and talking to him. and he would dismiss himself from them whenever he saw you.

suguru was quite romantic, more than your boyfriend ever was— gifting you bouquets of flowers and expensive jewelry, taking you out on simple dates to restaurants and other fancy places, and complimenting you. it was the bare minimum, literally. but you barely receive these gestures from your boyfriend, so it flattered you a lot.

it was another day where you went to visit suguru at his workplace. you didn’t set an appointment but since you visited him regularly you could just walk into his office— only during his lunch break though. you wore a flowy dress that reached your mid-thighs, hair done in a specific way with light makeup layering over your face. lately, you’ve been wanting to be pretty just for him and your boyfriend even noticed your change in appearance, but he never approached you on the reason why.

when you arrived at suguru’s office, you see him standing outside— talking to one of his clients. you stood afar for a moment, waiting for suguru to finish his work. and from the corner of suguru’s eyes, he immediately detected you and couldn’t help but smile.

after his client left, you approached him with a smile, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek before entering the office. “you should’ve called me,” suguru says, following after you.

“i wanted to surprise you.”

“oh? well it worked,” suguru replies with a grin, observing your face for a moment. “something the matter?”

“hmm,” you nod your head, hearing the door shut behind and you turn around. “my boyfriend wants to meet me for lunch in about 30 minutes. i didn’t want to go but he said it was urgent. your workplace was along the way so i wanted to stop by.”

“well he can wait a little longer,” suguru huffs but smiles before pulling you close by holding your waist. you look up at him as your face burned, observing how his broad body towered over yours. “by the way, you look beautiful,” he whispers the compliment before kissing you.

you wrap your arms around his neck, tippy toeing closer to him before he grips your hips, pressing yours against his. you could feel his throbbing cock poking through his pants, already soaking in pre-cum and practically begging to become free. you smile against his lips and suguru grunts, feeling your hand rub against his erection.

“fuck. we can’t do it right now, baby. i’m also busy after my lunch break, i have a meeting,” suguru groans in annoyance, glancing at the clock hanging over his desk.

“mm.. it’s alright, suguru,” you reassure, kissing his cheek before you pull away. he watches you kneel in front of him, your face coming face to face contact with his erection. “i’ll do this quickly, ‘kay? don’t want either of us to be late.”

suguru nods, hand lowering to caress your face as your hands unzipped his pants to free his hard throbbing cock. he moans, feeling your small hands wrap around him. another thing was how much you’ve changed over these two months. initially, you barely had an idea of what to do and was always reluctant. but now, you’re able to confidently perform gestures yourself and suguru fucking loved it.

he fucking loved knowing the feeling that he made you like this— knowing he corrupted you— changed you into someone who was confident with herself and was able to do something without hesitating. knowing how you quickly became addicted to him and his cock. oh how he wanted to brag about it to your stupid boyfriend’s face.

your hands pump the length of his cock as your mouth latches onto the tip leaking with his pre-cum. suguru grunts, his cock twitching in your hands as your mouth began taking him. you were never too good at giving a blowjob, but after suguru— you believed you improved quite well. seeing his reactions were able to tell you how good you were doing, and it made you want to see more of it.

you were much smaller than suguru, and he loved it. seeing your small mouth take his fat cock was something he’d never once figured liking. his moans start becoming louder as you pushed his cock deeper down your mouth, sucking and gliding your tongue all around him. you look up into his eyes and suguru nearly broke, dick pulsating from how you performed.

the wet sounds and the sync of your moans begin resonating the room, and as much as suguru needed to quiet down— he just couldn’t. he loved the feeling of your mouth around him, pleasuring him towards his orgasm. the tip of his cock starts poking your throat as you bobbed your head faster, gagging a few times before pulling away.

you swirl your tongue around his swollen tip, wrapping one of your hands around him again before pumping it. he groans, throwing his head back. he was about to cum, and he slightly pushed his cock back into your mouth.

“mm-“ you were somewhat surprised, but realizing he was about to cum soon, you’d make sure to fuck his cock with your mouth with the best you can.

“fuck- princess. your mouth takes my cock so good, doesn’t it?” suguru grunts when you push his cock far into your mouth once again. you moan, your eye sockets shortly welling with tears as he rocks his hips slowly. “gonna fuck your mouth, yeah?”

you nod and suguru’s hands hold the sides of your head before he starts thrusting faster. the tears in your eyes finally stream down the side of your cheek and your hands wrap around his wrists as his cock continuously smacked your throat.

the feeling of suguru’s cock down your throat was completely different from how your boyfriend would force his cock down yours. but you’ve completely forgotten the feeling of him, as suguru seems to already own your entire body.

suguru never forced himself down your throat, and the first time he fucked your mouth, he’d inform you to tap his leg or somewhere three times for him to stop. at first, it was agonizing— you were always gagging and uncomfortable with the feeling but suguru was patient and was able to help you adjust to the feeling. and when you got better, you began performing orally with suguru’s cock.

“gonna cum right now, baby- fuck,” suguru groans, head falling back as he was about to pull his cock out. but you refrained him from doing so and he cums deep into your mouth.

you moan softly as his warm cum hits your throat, and you swallow his load before pushing your head away. you gasp for air as your body slumped back. your mind was becoming foggy and you didn’t even notice suguru picking you off the ground.

“sugu, what are y-“ you question as he pushes you stomach down against his cold desk and lifts your dress. he pushes your soaked panties to the side, watching as your arousal dripped out of your pussy. he grins before gliding his tongue against your wet folds, immediately making you moan. “a-ah. suguru-“

his tongue circles around your clit several times and he pushes two fingers into your aching hole. your moans muffle behind your closed lips, and your eyes shut to the feeling of his tongue fucking your pussy from behind. he pushed his wet muscle into you, sucking and licking all of your arousal. you grip the edge of his desk as he starts pumping his fingers slowly.

“suguru, baby- need your cock s’bad right now,” you beg, turning your head around as one of his hands grabs the fat of your ass.

“hold on, princess,” suguru replies, slipping his fingers out and flicking his tongue around your pussy. you whine, unable to remain patient and suguru only chuckles at your reaction. he stands behind you, lifting your dress further up.

“s-suguru..”

“i know, baby. i know,” suguru hums, using a finger to pull your panties that still wrapped around your hips down to your thighs. he then returns both hands to the side of your ass, aligning his cock to your wet entrance.

suguru shoves his cock into your swollen pussy, instantly making you cum. he starts thrusting his cock deep and fast into your pussy before using one of his hands to press both of your hands behind your back. your legs become wobbly and your moans are uncontrollable as he fucks the brains out of you. he wouldn’t slow down at all, and desperately wanted to fuck his cock right into you until you came over and over again.

his hips slam against your ass harshly, balls slapping against your pussy as his body lowers over yours. his desk starts moving and creaking each thrust he gives you, some of the things on top beginning to roll off and hit the ground.

“fucking love this pussy,” suguru comments, peppering kisses down your neck and shoulder.

“mm— i love your cock, sugu!” you scream as your body rams into his desk because of how rough he was thrusting into you.

suguru groans, removing his hand from your ass to hoist one of your legs up. his cock was able to penetrate deeper into your pussy and smack the entrance of your womb, making you become a moaning and crying mess.

“fuckk, i’m cumming- suguru!” you cry out as your vision becomes blurry with more welled tears in your eyes. he was fucking you too good, and your pussy had clenched around him, indicating for him not to pull out.

even after cumming all over him, suguru kept drowning his cock deep into your pussy, rubbing against your most sensitive spots. he fucked his cum into your baby room, but that didn’t mean he’d stop at all. he continuously pounded you, filling your entire pussy up— and you both ended up losing track of time.

suguru pulls your dress off, along with your panties and flips you over to face him. you prop your body up as he pushes your thighs further apart to continue fucking into you. his previous cum milked into your womb begins leaking out, and you whine at the feeling as your arms went around his neck.

"y-your cum is-" you begin, gasping when suguru pulls your hips closer to him.

"don't worry, princess. i'll give you more," suguru grunts with a wide grin. "'m gonna give you so, so much of my babies."

"yes, yes!" you nod as your eyes began rolling back. being in the moment, you didn't notice your phone already ringing several times. and even when you heard, you and suguru chose to ignore it. all you could think about was suguru- and his cock filling and shaping your pussy to his size like it was all his.

suguru began rubbing circles around your clit with the tip of his fingers as you both began reaching your next orgasms. your mind became foggy, and all you could hear was your moans and the wet sounds of his cock slapping against your pussy. you pull suguru close to you, pressing your chest against his as he dumps his final load into you.

"f-fuck.." suguru's voice breaks as he buries his face into your shoulder.

"suguru?" you call to him through your heavy pants, feeling his warm cum refill your womb. you give him a gentle kiss on the side of his head and he pulls away.

suguru slides his dick out, letting out a heavy sigh before turning to kiss you again. when he turns away, he glances at the clock and reads the time. "shit, i'm late for my meeting. and you're late for your lunch meetup."

you giggle, shaking your head as suguru pushes his pants back around his hips. "they can continue waiting."

suguru lifts you off the table, noticing how much of a mess it was and chuckles. "mm.. you're right, my meeting isn't that important anyway.. and i don't have another appointment until 2.. so that gives us an hour and-"

but suguru was interrupted when there was a knock on his office door. you both tore your attention away from each other and turned to the closed door, thankfully it was locked. "yes?" suguru clears his throat.

“geto? are you still in there?” it was one of his co-workers and you both glance at each other. “the meeting was moved to next monday, sir. just wanted to come inform you about it.”

“oh? that sounds great, thank you," suguru replies and you both wait until the co-worker dismisses themselves, leaving you and suguru alone again. "guess.. we can go for a couple more rounds, yeah?"

you giggle, inching your face close to his, “hmm but there's something i have to do first."

"hm? what's that?" he inquires as he raises a brow before you kissed him again.

you pull out your phone, reading the long notification bars informing the missed calls you received from your boyfriend. suguru could see them too and he curiously wonders what you would possibly do. were you going to call him back?

but instead, suguru watches as you block your boyfriend's number, or well now, ex-boyfriend's. and you toss your phone to the side, grabbing his biceps and pushed his hips against yours. "now, let's continue."

LOAF4U. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.

#loaf4u #18+ minors dni #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen one shot #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #geto x reader smut #geto smut #geto suguru x reader smut #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #jjk geto #getou suguru x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n

888 notes · View notes

m0llygunn · 7 months

Text

i wish i had met you earlier (eddie munson x reader)

cw: depressing pillow talk and comfort idk, reader was sad and lonely an: a nod to the only boy ive ever loved who coincidentally became the only man ive ever loved. we grew up together and i still wish i had met him earlier. wc: 1k

“I wish I had met you earlier,” you whisper.

“Earlier?” he smiles, nose scrunching at the silliness, not knowing the depth of your sentiment.

“Yeah,” you smile back. It’s hard not to do— to smile, when his eyes are so soft, and his lips are that plump, just kissed colour, and your body still hums from the evening behind you. His lashes flutter the slightest bit, blinking away your flattery with a bashful roll of his eyes.

“You’d be sick of me already if we met earlier,” he lightly huffs, cheek squishing further into the softness of your shared pillow, crooking his smile.

If the lights were on, you’re sure you’d see a flush suffuse across his face. It would highlight the curvature of his cheeks that accompany his boyish simper, and it would emphasize the winsome rounded tip of his nose. When he blushes like that, your heart always adds an extra beat into its rhythm, one that lives for him. You can picture it so clearly, your heart flutters all the same— that’s not the point of this though.

“I wouldn't be sick of you,” you promise.

“No?”

“I'll never get sick of you.”

Tactile as always, he draws his affection over your features, trusting his touch to communicate what he feels. His fingertips dance over your cheek bone, daring to grace close enough to your eye to feel the very tips of each silken lash, flittering with every reflexive blink. He feels the fan, every feathery gust of air, and it affects him in magnitudinous ways— feeling any part of you is like that, a full-hearted reminder that you are here. You are here and you are his.

His palm settles to your cheek, fingers curving just below your ear, cradling the edge of your face. His own version of a promise, he shares his warmth and oath-taken heart through his touch.

“When would you have wanted to meet?” he asks curiously, blinking his own thick lashes at you as his gaze meets yours.

“Just before high school.”

He smiles widely, “you answered that quickly,” he says, thumb tracing once over the hill of your cheek and back down.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” you smile back. You lean into his touch and he draws his thumb across again. You close your eyes for a moment and he does it another time.

“Why?”

The softness inside you hardens momentarily at the question. Swallowing thickly, you also know the answer, but it doesn’t come out as quickly. It gets stuck to the roof of your mouth, stuck to the tip of your tongue. His eyes encourage your honesty, and on the sole notion of knowing him and knowing his heart, you trust him with this part of you.

“Maybe if I met you then, I wouldn’t have been so lonely.”

His thumb glides across your cheek and you watch as his eyes give way to his realization that it wasn’t a light hearted question for you. It wasn’t just pillow talk like it was supposed to be.

“Maybe if I met you then, I wouldn’t have been so sad,” you continue, trying to smile.

“You were sad?” His brows turn up, worry lines settling in. It’s a sorrowful look he gives you, not pity, but a softness, a grief, a regret.

For a split moment, you think that maybe you should lie— make it all go away. Maybe you should lie, but you couldn’t, not with him. Not when his hand is so graciously connected to you, and the warmth of his bare chest radiates into yours, and your shared pillow smells like your shared shampoo, and the sheets smell like the laundry soap you picked out together, with hints of your lotion and his body wash scattered throughout like every kiss you’ve ever shared here. Maybe you should lie, but you couldn’t— especially not when you love him and he loves you.

“I was so sad, Eddie.”

You muster a smile, but it betrays you, trembling just under your lower lip. The corners of your mouth remain pointed high, but it’s not a smile, not with the way your lips purse tightly, holding back what your eyes cannot. Your lash line fills, but less than a few side fallen tears survive the heavy blinks that draw them back inwards.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, thumb tracing under your eye this time. He pulls you forward with the lightest touch, a gentle encouragement, and a purposeful reminder that he’s here. He's here and he’s yours.

One day you’d like to explain it all, but it’s a hard feeling to understand. You’re not sure if it’s wholly a feeling to begin with— it’s more like a ghost. A haunting of all the feelings that used to exist. It washes over you in fast moving gray clouds, settling into your chest like heavy smoke in your lungs, lingering only long enough to remind you of how it was. Just enough to make you sputter, but not enough to hold the bleak weight of it all once again.

Breath coming out heaving and choked, Eddie’s palm glides to the back of your neck. His thumb presses soothingly into the tensed and taut muscles, and as soft as air he breathes a whispered apology against your lips— a simple ‘sorry,’ but it translates to so much more when he holds you like he does.

Sorry for bringing it up.

Sorry for the ghosts in your lungs.

Sorry for the years of you that died all alone with nobody to mourn them.

Sorry that no matter how many flowers you bring to their grave, they still come back, just like this, to haunt you.

Sorry— breathed against your lips and into your lungs, filling you with the gift of a life with him in it.

“It’s not your fault,” you answer.

“I know,” he replies.

“I’m still glad I met you when I did,” you say.

He looks into your eyes, steady gaze sincere with a tender adornment. Entirely loving, but his usually gladness is hindered by the gravity of the moment. He moves in closer to you again, lips just barely brushing yours as he speaks.

“I wish I had met you earlier,” he whispers.

———

ty! <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst

874 notes · View notes

ladythornofrivia · 16 days

Text

Lady with Teal Eyes || Aemond x Aunt!Hightower Reader (Part Three)

word count:

author’s note: I’m writing the last chapter! Woo!

warnings: incest, cockwarming, teasing, sucking, p in v, rough play, flirting, wholesome moment, jealous aemond, possessive, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, second hand embarrassment, dark content, mentions of su*cide, Aemond being too touchy with his aunt, degradation, humiliation.

summary: Aemond meets his aunt for the first time, and there’s more than meets the eye. (there will be three parts…jk…I’m going to add two more chapters)

Three weeks has passed since you have kept yourself and your affairs in secrecy in the Red Keep. Needless to say, it was evident that you have found peace within yourself. Or rather with the one-eyed prince, who would not stop touching you in all places of your body.

His secret—his own holy sept—spilling each other’s fantasies and interests alike. From night until dawn, everything was accorded.

Each time you spent hours with Alicent and her other Green children in a summer daylight, you felt like a cumbersome and sinister virgin committed a crime to your precious sex. Thankfully Gwayne and Criston or the Cargyll twin, even Harold weren’t there to witness the guilt and arousal you’re trying to hide from a tempted imagination.

In the midst of vipers and ambitious alike, you found solace of writing the accounts on your diary. Entries on the pages filled with thoughts—daily and private—one which you know more than anyone else.

The prayers of the Faith of the Seven has been all but a fever dream. What was the religion’s purpose other than a guidance to those who are lost? You were lost once, but no doubt that your prayers were ever answered. You prayed to the Gods that you wanted to know your origins, of how you came to be as the lady with teal eyes, a daughter of Otto Hightower, but the Gods never gave, so you surrendered your faith at the age of seven, but masking it, pretending to be faithful in order to persuade your father and the Hightowers to achieve their good side was nothing more than an act.

And useless, more like.

An illness poisoned in your old wounds again. What does guidance do other than supplanted the seed of greed, selfishness and lies and pettiness to save themselves from others while the innocence tainted like a wounded womb?

Otto was nothing more than a heartless man served to the likes of his greed for the Iron Throne, the Red Keep, and above all, to Alicent.

Has he accepted you like he does to Alicent, there would be no consequences of silent hostility between two factions and conflict within.

Souls like them are already tainted.

But in a way, you’re glad; being in the same room as Otto would be as consequentially stupid as an untrained eye.

In the latest days in King’s Landing, your adoration for the city has grown less, but the sea and the gardens are the only things that could make you relish the taste of small life.

Aemond had taken you to the gardens, of course, and there you raced with pearly silks of ruffled gown and pearls adorned the neckline, hair fumbled in the wind as you looked back at the one-eyed prince with a gleaming smile.

Thin rays of light cascaded down on your winsome manes and the sparkles of your pearl gown.

On the midst of your white-pearl, there’s a necklace, adorned in large white pearls and a sapphire on the center. Aemond gave you a gift before the day of your nameday.

You were not a type of noble who celebrates nameday, especially if you consider yourself to be in a lower rank in comparison to Queen Alicent or the Targaryens.

Oddly, it has been tranquil since the day you arrived King’s Landing, but the days where you spent your days in your room, the gardens and library, as if nothing special occurred. That is until Aemond caught a certain subjects that caught your eye.

But Aemond is more fascinated with your enamored beauty gleaming like a flower blossoming into the sun and wind.

His hands never stopped roaming to your body.

“We’re in the gardens, my prince,” you reminded, giggling.

Aemond hummed as he plunged a kiss and undo his breeches, but before he does, an attendant arrived and announced that Alicent wanted a discussion with Aemond. With loving eye, Aemond bid his goodbyes and left, and within each breath you drew, it leaves you wanting more.

Each day, you and Aemond spent days into each other’s company, but it wasn’t enough. There are times at night is where the thrill accelerated. Nights dawned with passion and blood engulfed with desire.

Aemond thought of no consequences as he pounded his long cock into you—bed creaking as the skin slapped with his.

“My sweet, my love, my muse,” he said, rasping, his head threw back, drawing a feral growl, hips throbbed and rushed. His mind reeled to a thought of you, healthy and glowing with a rounded belly. He wanted to touch you, but in a public, Aemond would be in jeopardy, but since he’s the second son of the ill king, Aemond laid his hand on your thigh, brushing his whole palm, rising and falling motion, no care for consequences.

He could heard your breath hitched, but kept your composure—entertained your guests and family members. Surely it appears friendly and cordial on the outside, but underneath the table was nothing more than a filthy naughtiness arising from the stroke of his hand. His young and rugged, cold hands. You loved his cold hands. He recalled of your face flushed and in heat. Although he preferred heat, the dragon prince reconsidered it on making his hands cold, to pinch and flick your clit and pushing his lithe fingers in your warmth sounds as tempting and pinched the your taut nipples.

The curtains on your four-post bed swayed, and you found yourself moaning aloud, but his hand covered your mouth. His body pressed against yours and his mouth leaned onto your ear.

“You’re taking my large cock so well, my sweet princess,” he told you. “But you must be quiet for me. Can you do that?”

You nodded.

And his thrusts were twice as powerful, until he spilled every last drop of his semen into your soaked walls, and sweat on your flesh cooled from a plundering breeze.

“My good princess.”

Gevie, he thought, as he watched your sleeping body, your tangled locks, and your face leaning on his neckline for warmth, arms enveloping around his lean frame.

~~~

There are nights where you cannot sleep well. Nights about your dreams terrorizing you. The screams of a woman, calling out to you. Then you saw Alicent. Then your father; Otto screamed at you; His eyes were glowing in the dark, telling you how much of a disappointment you are and how everything wrong in his life, the burdens fell onto your shoulders.

Rumors of you, a mythical creature hissed in the dark. Until you found yourself on a high tower, falling, drowning, then nothing…

You woke up crying, and not long, Aemond awoke with concern, and held you in his arms, whispering sweet words into your ears, High Valyrian, telling you that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

You have never heard of High Valyrian before. His voice is music to her ears, and found her gaze locked to his as you both initiated a long feverish kiss. It was the first time that you felt at peace, where you didn’t need to cry on your pillow.

“I love you,” you told him.

“I love you more, my sweet.” He kissed atop of your head.

Dreams have subsided but it didn’t mean it went away completely. Something was calling out to you. The one-eyed prince remedied with his presence.

And for that, you weren’t in fear of the dreams, of the dark.

As of late, the shared passion between you and Aemond has come to a stop. You awaited him in nightly hours and yet the cold air swept in for an one-eyed prince to come and rescue you.

But he never did.

Could something happen to him? You wondered what was the cause. And you hadn’t known, that is until Aemond stormed into your royal apartments, fuming of the announcement of your betrothal to the Martell.

“I command you not to go,” he forewarned.

Confused, you said, “What are you talking about?”

Aemond prowled, fists clenching, his brows furrowed. “You’re marrying a Martell. You’ll be sent away to Dorne, without ever so telling me. What causes you to drive yourself further from my sight, my love?”

You gulped. “No one ever informed me of the marriage!”

His one eye beamed with glare. “I overheard that you’ll be wedded off soon.”

“I didn’t know of this. I didn’t know any of this!” you protested. “I have never done any errors, Aemond. I will never give you any reason to hurt you.”

Aemond’s hands clutched your arms, near to your shoulders. His knees bent and dropped down, and his head bowed and fell down onto your lap. “So…no one told you?” he said, his voice muffled.

“No one told me,” you said gently. “I’ve been in my apartment to repair the new dress you gifted me.”

“Grandsire told me so.”

You heart stopped.

“He agreed to the terms to Dorne, to win their favor.”

You felt numb at the moment.

“My father,” he bitterly said, “wanted alliance with Dorne for some time, but due to his illness, he was powerless. His mind already rotten, as you saw him before.”

“I have.”

“Why in the Seven Hells my grandsire do such a thing?”

“And you thought I was betraying you? You think I would go behind your back and agree to the terms that no one informed me of? I spent my days on my duties, waiting for you to come back. I tried to find you everywhere in the Red Keep, and nothing, you were nowhere to found. What am I wasting my time for, then?”

Aemond looked up with his good eye gleaming. “I apologize, my lady. You’re the woman I want.”

Your eyes glazed in hot tears; his hands brushed the sides of your waist, his forehead leaned against your stomach.

“I must speak to Alicent of this matter.” Then you got up and left.

But, instead of seeing Alicent, Otto was present before your eyes at Alicent’s apartments. Your chest tightened at the sound of his voice.

The Lord Hand awaited.

You took a step forward.

“Father,” you began, wondering if he’s willing to change his way.

You guessed it wrong.

“I never thought I took you for a fool,” he began. “Coupling with a one-eyed prince for whatever how long, and you decided to act immoral ways against the Faith of the Seven. You are a disgrace to House Hightower. Harlot as your mother ever was. What will Alicent ever think of you, my sweet child?”

But you heard the story wrong; there are rumors years back that your father, the Lord Hand, had an affair with a woman after Alicent’s mother has passed—when Alicent was just an toddler. As much as he grieves for his late wife, he needed someone to warm his heart, but the result began clear when it’s only temporary. And you don’t recall whether Otto treated you fairly.

“Alicent may not know this, but I do know. These walls have eyes, my dear girl. And if you ever lay a hand on any other members of the court, you’ll be sentenced mercifully to death.”

His soft tone never caused a shiver down your spine.

“You’re nothing but an enigma to my existence. You have soiled yourself, soiled my name,” he continued. “You must pray for forgiveness, and your desirable sins will be set free.”

“Where’s my mother?” is all you said.

Otto silenced.

“Where is she?”

Then a small smile crept upward on his lip. “You’ll never meet her. Perhaps you will, if you rid of yourself, I care not. We Hightowers thrive and survive, and you will not; you will rot to despair.”

Alicent’s children will reign Seven Kingdoms, and you will not.

For all these years, you have yearned affection and acceptance was nothing more than a pathetic attempt to injure your pride.

This was all you needed to hear from Otto—the ugly truth.

The comforting lie is just as ugly, like a gown wore on a rotten corpse.

“The Martells will attend here at the Red Keep. Best sure to be on your good behavior. Or you will pay the price by the repent for your existence.”

Maybe the comfort offering from the dead and living can be as painful.

~~~

At dinner, with the Martells involved, you shot a benign smile at the prince, but Aemond is saddened by the outcome. But in the midst of a chatter, you chose to stay silent and play an act of a nice lady. Smiling and nodding is all you could do. But on the inside, you want to thrash everything and burn the lives of those who wrong you.

But you’re only a lady, not Visenya Targaryen.

The Martell prince has been extended his kindness to you, but, afar, unbeknownst to you, Aemond paid attention to you. The glistened of your eyes—your teal eyes—dwindled and empty. And your smile is just as coiled and unnaturally unnerving. While you’re unseen to everybody else, only Aemond’s eye to you are well-known and heard.

No matter how much you tried to look up and glance another’s person eyes, the soul of your happiness is nowhere to be seen.

He has never seen you like this, aside from the tears and pain you have shared. Knowing why, Otto had the upper hand. A child-like state you shared with Aemond has stiffened to adulthood.

It was him, and Aemond knows it so. Otto was just as calculatingly obvious. Aemond urged to take you away and fled to the Free Cities, but his duty, he cannot afford to make a ruckus mistake like last time. Not that he’s ashamed of jabbing his grandsire at supper duration of Viserys’s nameday—he felt proud, but to his own end, his own calculation should’ve been more precise and less obvious.

The Martell prince offered you to take his hand for a night stroll, but you lead yourself back to your room, by excusing yourself.

Not long after, while the guests and his family are occupied by the Martells, Aemond slipped past them and met you back in your room, tackling you with a kiss and an embrace, leaving no breath in your chest.

Within your kiss, you cried, but Aemond had other plans on taking you back, to remedy his careless encounter he had with you this morning.

He took and soiled you again on your pristine bed.

“My father will have me killed if we keep doing this,” you warned him, stroking his glossy hair.

“I shall feed them to my dragon—of those who wronged us, if it comes to that. I care not of my grandsire,” he replied. “He’s as stupid as a boar.”

“What shall I do?”

“Let us make our vows to the Godswood,” he suggested, rather bluntly and more urgent; urgent because his anger was rising against of his grandsire.

“He knows about us, my dear nephew,” you said, tears trickled.

His thumb swiped your tear aside.

“We’ll find a way.” Aemond kissed your head, then onto your lips, after a prolonged of a ragged breath settled down from a torrid consummation, thinking about how he should’ve eaten you at the feast, your legs open and spread across the table, but he shall do that the next time someone tries to outsmart him, even if it’s a family member.

And there, you shared intimacy with a prince once more.

For now, assurance is all you needed.

~~~

In the midst of foggy, cold evening, with you asleep, Aemond managed to find the Martell prince and slaughtered him, tossed him at the highest tower of Red Keep.

The people in King’s Landing will take the Martell’s death as a suicide, but within the eyes of the Gods of Old and New, they knew that the one-eyed prince ended the Dornish prince.

~~~

The next day, the bond between you and Aemond mended and resumed, never minding of the misunderstanding, in your ivory gown with embroidered white roses and teal and green jewels sleeved your shoulders as Aemond in his violet and gold attire. You and Aemond are happy; sent to each other’s arms and the kiss became ardent. The love in between the curtained trees and shadows and thin ray of lights. You felt lighter, and so does he. But the struggles between politics and greedy desires from the people won’t end. But the one-eyed prince beg to differ.

Taglist: @toodlesxcuddles @kittendoll05 @omgsuperstarg @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @danika1994 @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @kukulyarva @namelesslosers @heavenly1927 @snh96 @fandom-maniac-anime @httpsmenace @velunis @nananeptune @domithebomi @moonseye @faesspace @rxixo31 @tm-starr @xinthia19 @popsycles @halsteadstyles @lothiriel9 @liannafae @ammo23 @blackswxnn @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @qardasngan @justyelena @jolixtreesunn @runekisses @thought--bubble @remuslupinwife1 @evergreen9083 @foggypeacestarlight @dixie-elocin @galactict3a @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @kimsubin05 @blackgaladriel @valeskafics @theboleyngirlx @elaratyrell @mylosz0

277 notes · View notes

absurdthirst · 3 months

Text

The Mercenary and the Whore {Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.3k

Warnings: Sex work, prostitution, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, bathing Tovar, bath sex, riding, parting company, angst, confessions of love, oral sex (female receiving), mentions of child planning

Comments: When Pero Tovar comes to your brothel, he makes sure to monopolize your time. Wanting to spend every second he can between your thighs. Unable to tell you how he feels before he leaves for the East and you are sick with worry for your favorite client who is much more than that to you.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It’s getting closer to when he will arrive. The mornings are getting shorter, the chill of the air starting to make your breath a white cloud in front of you when you do what chores you need to before you have to work. He always comes when the weather turns. Once then, then again three months later. Sometimes he would visit often during the summer if he had taken work nearby. But he always came during the colder months. You anticipated his arrival, knowing he would monopolize your time and keep you from taking other clients. Pero Tovar was greedy for his time between your thighs and it left little time or energy for anyone else.

Pero grunts at the matron of the brothel, giving her your name, and she nods, realizing who he is. He strides up the stairs, two at a time, his armor and weapons clanging, and finally he’s knocking on your door. When you answer, his stomach twists and he feels like he’s home. Something he would never admit to anyone else. He offers you a rare smile, saying your name. “Hola, hermosa.” He murmurs, his eyes trailing down your body, covered by the thin tunic but he knows what’s underneath, has dreamed about it since he last left your bed.

“I know you are eager to strip off your armor.” You purr, giving him a winsome smile and stepping back so he can push into the room that you live and work out of. It’s not ideal, being a whore, but it keeps the roof over your head and your belly full. All things that you had been in sore need of before you had arrived at this brothel. He won’t bathe yet, too desperate for you, and you will let him touch you despite the grime from the road. “It has been too long, Tovar.”

“Too long, hermosa.” He murmurs, working on the ties to his armor as his cock starts to harden . Even just the smell of you has him aching for you. “I thought of you. Many nights.” He promises, not wanting to tell you about the days. Riding on his horse with his thoughts for company once William had run out of things to ramble on about, he thought about you and what you are up to. He sets his armor down and reaches for his tunic, pulling it over his head.

“You thought of me while you were between another woman’s thighs?” You have no delusions about this thing with Tovar. He pays for your cunt, even as well as he treats it and despite your own traitorous heart, he does not want a life with you. “That is not well done of you.” You chide playfully, pulling your thin tunic over your head so you are bare when he throws his own to the floor and glares at you.

Tovar shakes his head, “no one else. There was men only and I am not that way inclined. Some are. I only dreamed of your wet cunt.” He promises, shoving his trousers down after kicking off his boots. When he’s bare before you, he steps closer to grab your ass, dragging you against him and he presses his nose into your neck. “Always smell delicious.”

Closing your eyes, your fingers find and tangle into his dirty hair. Not caring that it is slightly oily. You have him here, even if it is just for a week or so before he disappears again. “Just for you.” You hum, knowing that he enjoys the clean scent of your skin and the flowers that you press into the soap you use. Letting you scrub him with the same soap when he finally gets into the tub that will be brought to your room. “My wet cunt is ready for you.”

Tovar slaps your ass and growls, ready for you and he will be rough this first time. Your pleasure won’t be his priority but he always makes it up to you in the sex following this frantic coupling. He guides you over to your cot, laying you down and he spreads your legs so he can see your dripping cunt. Humming in contentment, he slides his fingers through your slickness, “who made you this wet, chiquita?”

“You, Tovar.” You aren’t lying, although you can see that he doesn’t believe you. His shoulders are broad and his body is fit. The body of a mercenary, littered with scars and you know that one of the days he will occupy your bed, you will trace them making note of any new ones and fussing slightly over them. You whimper when he presses his fingers to the little nub beneath the curls of your sex. His cock is jutting out and the thick head is purple when he pulls the skin back. “How do you want to fuck me, Tovar? Like this? Or do you wish to watch my ass while you fill my cunt?”

“Yes.” He hisses, “from behind. Want to - fuck. Want to see your ass.” He murmurs and pulls his hand away, jerking himself slowly while you shift onto your hands and knees. He groans when he shuffles closer so he can notch his cock at your entrance and he pushes into you with a low whine, eyes closing as your hot walls envelop him.

You keen, always loving the pinch of pain when it comes to taking Pero for the first time after so long apart. You won’t claim that you are as tight as you were when you were innocent, but the Spaniard has a big cock. “Yes.” You moan, eyes rolling back when his hips hit your ass and he's buried to the hilt. “Missed this cock, Tovar.” You admit breathlessly. “Now,” you look over your shoulder. “Ride me hard and work out the need you have for me.”

Tovar groans, low and loud as he twitches inside of you. “It’s been too long without this exquisite cunt, hermosa.” He murmurs as he caresses your spine until he’s gripping your hips, grinding impossibly deeper before he pulls out. Pushing back inside in a quick motion, he sets a harsh pace, grunts escaping his lips as he watches your ass jiggle and your asshole flutter as he pushes deep into your cunt.

Tovar’s pace takes your breath away, all you can do is moan and hold on. Making sure he does not push you too far forward onto the cot. You love how frantic he always is this first time, the ache he leaves you with always growing with each time he takes you after. Long after his last time, you will feel him between your thighs even after you have bathed away the sweat and cum, washed your sheets and taken another man. If you could, you would daydream about the dark, dangerous mercenary with a long scar on his left eye while you are under another man as he grunts away. “So good, b-Tovar.” He doesn’t like you using pet names with him, so you don’t flatter him like you might another customer.

“Always good.” Tovar groans, his fingers digging into your flesh until they slide up to cup your tits. He bends over your body, enjoying how you clench around him, and he’s close. He goes months without a hot cunt around him so he struggles to last during his first encounter with you. “Hermosa. I- I won’t last. Where?” He asks, always wanting to make sure you decide.

“Inside.” You rarely go a day without drinking the tea that will prevent a child and you know how much he hates to pull out of your body to spill his seed. Unless he is in your mouth or wants to paint your skin with it when he is feeling particular. “Fill my cunt up and show me how much you have missed it.”

“Shit.” Pero curses, his eyes clenched shut as he buries himself deep and spills his hot seed onto your walls, a low groan escaping his lips. “Fuck.” He pants, slowly rocking his hips as he rides his pleasure and he leans in to kiss your shoulder. “Gracias, hermosa.”

You smile and hum, looking over your shoulder at his panting frame. “Always my pleasure.” You tell him, knowing that even if you did not experience pleasure this time, you will several times before he leaves again. The first time with him is always quicker than the rest. He says it’s because your cunt is so good and it’s been so long since he’s had it that he cannot pace himself.

He caresses your back and presses kisses to your skin. Beyond your doors, he is a hardened killer, a survivor, but with you, he is soft and gentle. He allows himself to be tender with you. Unbeknownst to you, he leaves his heart with you when he leaves but he would never confess that.

Your eyes flutter with pleasure. He always touches you in small ways that makes your heart quake and you fall deeper for a man you could never have. When he finally pulls his softening cock out of your cunt, you shift to your side and look at him. “Do you want me to have the bath and a meal sent up?” You ask, knowing his preferred method of relaxing.

Tovar nods, shifting to lay down on the bed and he stares at you, admiring your features. You’ve always been so gorgeous and he loves how you make him feel. He wants to feel like this all the time but he can’t. He has to sell his sword. “Have you been busy?” He asks, running his knuckles along your spine.

“Busy enough.” You shrug one shoulder and roll your eyes. “A group of Lord Crowley’s men came in a month ago.” You tell him. “Luckily it was my monthly, they put Adrina and Gwen out of work for nearly two weeks.” The men had been brutal and it had taken time for their injuries to heal.

Pero frowns, his touch freezing on your skin. He worries about you when he’s away, scared that the next time he returns he won’t find you because someone strangled you during a passionate encounter. “Men are animals. They do not realize how lucky they are to have a beautiful woman in their company. They should pleasure, not harm.” He shakes his head and worries that you will get hurt by someone one day.

“Most men do not think like you.” You remind him. “They only think of their own pleasure and Crowley’s lot have no control because their lord is just as bad.” You know that you were lucky to have been indisposed and because of that, you had shared your pay with the two girls while they were recovering.

“Bastards.” Pero hisses, shaking his head again. “They should be killed.” He murmurs, knowing he’d love the pleasure to kill them but he doesn’t have a reason to hunt them down and he doesn’t want to leave your side until he has to. “Are you hungry?” He asks, wanting you to eat if you’re hungry.

You smile, knowing he must be hungry if he is making hints. You lean in and kiss his cheek because you don’t allow kissing, not even Tovar. “I will go order your bath and meals.” You tell him before you climb off your cot and stand, reaching for your tunic to shrug on. You can clean up his seed when you come back. “Do you want ale too?”

“Is that even a question?” He scoffs playfully and you giggle, making him smile. He winks at you and watches you disappear out of the room to tell the matron to bring the tub and the meals. He will happily pay for your meals while he is in your company.

Coming back up the stairs, you meet a giggling pair of your friends. “So we will not see you for at least a week?” Gwen asks. “We saw Tovar bolt up the stairs to your bed.”

Adrina nods, smirking at you. “It is funny that he stays so long since I have already pleasured William and he is now drinking. I think your Spaniard is in love with you.”

You scoff and shake your head, your cheeks burning and wishing that it were true. “He just enjoys my touch.” You tell the girls, adopting a saucy wink. “He is a creature of habit, if he had found your bed first you would be the one having your time taken up.”

The girls shake their heads at your naïveté but they don’t push their thoughts on you anymore. Pero looks up when you come back into the room and his stomach twists with the way you look at him. He doesn’t want to leave for even a second. “You’ve ordered food for yourself too?” He checks, wanting to make sure you are fed before he has you again.

“I did.” He is too generous to you sometimes, making sure you eat a proper meal while he is with you. Some men who spend hours with you don’t care if you even drink at all while they are with you, but Pero makes sure your needs are met. You move over to the wash basin and smile over your shoulder. “The bath and the meals will be up shortly. Are you already ready for the next round or should I clean up?”

Pero shakes his head, “you can clean up, hermosa. We have plenty of time. I want to talk. Tell me about how you’ve been - business aside.” He demands, wanting to listen to you talk.

“Agnes had her baby, he is so adorable.” You clean up while you talk. “I got to see him the next day, and since the baby is a boy, Eldon has decided that he would claim the babe as his own.” You don’t think much of that, but Agnes was happy. “They married when the boy, Caspian, was two months old. She moved into the house with him and his mother. We haven’t seen much of her, except when we run into her at the shops. Eldon doesn’t want her visiting with us now that she’s married.”

Pero is surprised to hear that the man took the babe on but he is glad to hear it. “He should allow her to see her friends.” Pero says, “but at least he did the decent thing and married the girl.” Pero says, knowing that it’s always a risk to get a whore pregnant but most men would abandon their bastards and leave the village.

“Yes, she’s allowed to attend church.” You roll your eyes and huff. The priest loudly damned you all to hell every time he saw you on the streets but he would sneak in the back several times a month. Thankfully, he had never come to your bed. “But at least Caspian has been baptized.”

Pero snorts, “I am not a religious man, hermosa. We sin and we die.” He says, knowing his devoutly Catholic mother would be turning in her grave but he doesn’t believe God would be so cruel as to allow some of the sins he has seen committed, some of his own doing. “You…you are my angel.” He says softly, averting his eyes.

“Then I will be your angel.” Your heart softens and you wish that you had met Pero under other circumstances. Despite his claims he would be a horrible husband, you know he would not. He’s gruff, yes, but he’s also tender. You often daydream of a little cottage, making a soft, warm home for him to rest in when he comes home. The knock on your door makes you smile, “and now your angel brings you food.” You tell him as you walk to the door to open it.

“Finally.” Pero grunts playfully and you look back at him before you open the door. The trays are carried in and Pero covers himself with the sheet while the tub is brought in with the steaming buckets of water. “We will fill it ourselves.” You tell Gwen, knowing she came in to see how Pero was lingering in your room.

“Of course.” She says, offering you a smirk that makes Pero frown, wondering what the look was for.

“I am starving.” Tovar groans as you set the tray down in front of him.

“Eat then.” You tell him with a small smile as his eyes roam greedily over the overloaded tray. You make sure that Pero’s portions are generous because you have seen how the man loves his food. “I will fill the tub and it can be cooling slightly while you eat.”

He nods, knowing his mama raised him with better manners but it’s been too long since he had a hot meal and he eagerly digs in. Shoveling the food into his mouth as you pour the buckets into the tub.

You hum as you set out your soap and get some of your drying cloths. You know he will want to soak in the bath, and you don’t blame him. Moving over to claim your own tray, although you hand him the bread, since he has already devoured his. You normally don’t eat it anyway, and rarely take any.

Pero knows what you are doing and he doesn’t like it. Knowing you’ll protest, he splits the bread in half and hands you back the larger piece. “You’ll need your energy.” He reasons with you and you nod, taking the bread from him. He hums in satisfaction and digs back into the stew.

He eats fast, as if it might be stolen from him. Your own meal is eaten at a more sedate pace. “How was your travels?” You ask him, as if you were his wife inquiring about his trip while he is home. “William kept out of trouble?”

Tovar snorts, “you know he can never keep himself out of trouble. Always has to show off and it gets us in trouble.” Pero shakes his head, “and then I have to save his ass. We made it back though. With plenty of coins. Always the main thing.” He says and proceeds to suck and lick his fingers clean. His mama raised him with manners, doesn’t mean he always used them.

“That is good.” You never pry about the money he spends while he is here, but it is a lot. Monopolizing your entire days while he is in your bed, he even sleeps in your room. Not that you mind. His arms wrapped around you and his face tucked into your neck while he snores softly is the safest you ever feel. “How long are you here?”

“It depends. The winter is coming and we need to earn enough coin before we seek shelter for the snow. I am thinking at least a week. More, if William can keep himself out of trouble.” Pero chuckles, “are you going to take other men?” He asks softly, wanting to know where you stand beforehand.

“While you are here?” You scoff and shake your head. “I would not have the time or the energy.” You tease him playfully. In truth, you would happily never let another man between your thighs if you could have Pero, but that was not something that was possible. He was a mercenary and you are a whore.

Pero is reassured, worried that you’d go off while he is sleeping or bathing. It’s selfish but he wishes to keep you all to himself, prepared to pay whatever it takes. “I want to bathe.” He says and stands up from the bed, the sheet falling from his body and he moves fast to step into the hot water, a low groan escaping his lips. “Do you wish to join me, hermosa?”

“What if I wash you?” You ask, finishing up your own meal and moving the trays to the door to place outside. You remove your tunic and walk naked to the tub. “When you are clean, I will join you and mount your cock while you soak in your bath.”

Tovar nods, grabbing the bar of soap so he can begin cleaning himself up. “Can you cut my hair, hermosa?” He asks, wanting to smarten up to be in your company for a week.

You had expected his request. He always wants to have his hair cut and shaved. Humming as you get out your scissors, you kneel down by the bathtub. Running your fingers through his hair and start to cut.

He tilts his head and lets you snip away at the matted locks, enjoying your fingers massaging his head and you grab the soap once you’re done to wash his hair. He groans, closing his eyes as your fingers work his scalp and his cock starts to harden at the ministrations.

“You need someone to take care of you.” You chide softly, massaging his scalp and enjoying the way that he groans. “I can see you enjoying being treated well by a wife, or mistress.”

Pero snorts, his fingers gripping the edge of the tub. “Who would wish to be mine? I am the son of a farmer from Seville. I have been selling my sword since I was fourteen when my parents died and I had nothing. I am a nobody. I own nothing. I do not have a home for a wife or a mistress.”

Your fingers still in his hair and you want to tell him that you would want to be his. Although he would not want a whore. “You will have a home one day.” You predict. “You will stop coming to see me because you have a wife with a babe under her apron and a warm bed to sleep in.”

Pero frowns, not liking to think of a life without you in it. He doesn't answer and he allows you to rinse his hair and he already feels so much better. You grab the scissors again and work on chopping off the excess beard that had become matted during his travels. "You are too good to me, hermosa." He murmurs as you grab the sharp knife to begin styling his mustache.

“You are good to me as well.” You remind him, arching a brow at him playfully before you look back down at his face as you cut the tiny hairs over his lip. Your fingers brushes his lips gently and you hum in satisfaction and lean back. “Now, so handsome.” You tell him, completely honest. He’s one of the most handsome men to you, even more appealing than William.

He blushes slightly under your intense stare and he averts his eyes as you set down the knife. “Are you joining me?” Pero asks and you nod, stepping into the tub and you straddle him, his cock now hard and aching for you. “Hermosa.” He sighs in bliss, his hands caressing your back and he leans in to nudge his nose against yours.

“You don’t have to flatter me.” You promise, whispering the words between you, and your fingers toy with the curly ends of his now shorter hair. “I want to ride you slowly.” You admit, knowing he might prefer a faster pace. “Let you relax while I do all the work, milking your cock for you.”

He can't argue with you, nodding slowly as you reach beneath you to grip his cock. You sink down onto him after notching him at your entrance and you take his breath away. "Fuck." He sighs, tilting his head back at the feel of your warm, soft cunt enveloping him.

Moaning yourself, you take advantage of the vulnerable skin of his throat, leaning in and pressing your lips to his pulse as you grind down on his length. Feeling him pulse inside you as your walls flutter. “Your cock is so good.” You praise, kissing along his jaw and neck while he relaxes into the bath. Making sure that you don’t slosh water too badly, you start at a slow pace that seems to let you feel every vein in his cock.

"Your cunt - it's incredible." Pero murmurs, caressing your spine and he imagines a lifetime with you, relaxing in a warm home...you as his wife. You with his child. It's a beautiful dream but one he can never have. He's a dangerous man who has sinned. His blood soaked hands could never have you as their prize.

Soft groans and ripple of the water is what fills the room. The moment is so tender you wish you could break your rule and press your lips to his. It’s almost love making, although you have never experienced that, you think it would be like this. His hands running over your skin and the soft grunts of pleasure making you moan.

He wants to call you 'amor' but he doesn't know if you'll understand him and he can't take that risk. His cock twitches inside of you and he ducks his head to take your nipple into his mouth after cupping your tit and lifting it towards his face.

You whimper when his teeth scrap over the sensitive skin, your fingers tangling into his shorter hair and tugging gently. “So good, Pero.” You moan, not even realizing you called him by his first name. You normally just call him Tovar because that is what he told you the first time he had visited your bed. You use his Christian name when you are touching yourself thinking about him.

He groans into your flesh, wrapping his lips around the nipple and biting down before he soothes it with his tongue. His other hand squeezes your other breast and he leans back, pushing them together with his palms. "So fucking beautiful." He rasps, cock twitching inside of you.

You moan again. “Pero, fuck.” You love how attentive he is, one of the few men you’ve ever had to care about your pleasure. You circle your hips and clench him right. “Love how you feel.”

His hand slides down your body to your clit. He was taught during his first sexual encounter with a whore to pleasure a woman and he’s never forgotten, wanting to feel that delicious tight grip on his cock. He wants you to cum so he finds that bundle of nerves and rubs circles around it.

“Ohhh, ohhh fuck.” Your own head tilts back, enjoying the pressure against the bundle of nerves and your hips jerk in response. “Pero, I- oh baby, I’m gonna soak you.” You warn breathlessly.

"That's it, hermosa. Come on, soak my cock." He grunts, thrusting his hips up so he can push even deeper and he groans your name when your walls start to flutter around his cock.

You fall forward into his chest, pressing your face into his neck and moaning as you hang on. “Oh, oh Perooooooo!” You cry out, your cunt clenching down around him.

He groans when you clamp down on his cock, making him hiss your name, and he swears he nearly cums right then but he holds strong. He strokes your back as you shake above him and he kisses along your neck.

Your hips rock as you force yourself to keep moving, loving how each roll of your hips shoots another little fissure of pleasure down your spine. “Cum for me, Pero.” You beg, “fill me up again.”

He can’t deny you, his hand leaving your clit and his hand squeeze your ass, slapping it as he rocks up into you. Water sloshes and he groans your name, so close to his orgasm. “Fuck, hermosa. I’m gonna - I’m gonna -” He pants and squeezes his eyes shut as he cums, painting your walls for the second time.

You whimper, enjoying the rush of heat as he fills you. Always loving how thick and how much Pero cums. You run your hands through his hair and sigh softly as he rocks himself through his pleasure as you flutter around him.

He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in with a deep inhale, and he swears he could die right now and be a happy man. You’re his sanctuary and he never wants to leave this moment. “Gracias, hermosa.” He murmurs into your skin, feeling more relaxed than he has in many moons.

“Anytime.” You promise, closing your eyes and laying your head on his shoulder while he holds you close. “I am happy you are here. You are safe.”

Pero doesn’t respond, knowing that any day could be his last. He caresses your spine and enjoys the feeling of holding you close. “Come on, hermosa. The water will get cold and I don’t want you becoming ill.” He says and pulls away from you.

You lift off his cock and quickly clean yourself up and swipe the cloth over his groin as well before you stand up, wrapping another cloth around your body before holding his. “Do you want me to dry you?” You ask, wanting to make sure he is relaxed and enjoying himself with you.

Pero shakes his head, “No gracias, hermosa. I can dry myself.” He offers you a wry smile and stands up once you’re out of the tub. He takes the cloth you hand him and he dries off, suddenly exhausted. “I want to sleep. Can you lay with me?” He asks, wanting to wrap himself around you.

It is times like these that you feel you cheat Pero. He pays good coin for your company and he wishes to sleep? “Of course.” You nod, moving to set the trays outside the door and hang your cloth up to dry. You will sleep nude and you are thankful you had fresh sheets on your cot. He deserves a good rest in a clean bed. “Anything you wish.”

He hums in delight when he lays down and you lay down beside him, pulling the sheets over you both. His arm wraps around you and he nuzzles his nose into your neck, breathing you in until he’s softly snoring into your ear.

You stay awake for a long time after Pero starts to snort. Holding him close in the dark as the sounds of the brothel filter dully through the walls. Closing your eyes and imagining the sounds of the woods, animals outside of a small cottage. Cozy and secluded, just the two of you, together every night. You fall asleep and dream of Pero.

****

“Fuck, hermosa.” Pero groans when you clench around him. His eyes watch you as you gyrate above him and he slides his hands up to cup your tits. “So fucking beautiful.” He murmurs, his dark eyes nearly black with lust. He has spent every moment in the past week with you aside from the hour he left to speak to William. He isn’t sure if he wants to leave when the time comes but he has to. He needs to earn more coins.

Riding Pero has always been something that you enjoy but this week you have been frantic for it. “So fucking good.” You moan, leaning back and letting him play with your tits. “God, Tovar, you are so perfect inside me.” You’re greedy, knowing he will be leaving today or tomorrow so you want him to remember this.

"Fuck, hermosa. Amor." He pants, lost in the pleasure and unable to think about anything but you. He moans your name again and wraps his arms around you, dragging you into his chest. He thrusts up into you, wanting you to cum for him, and he buries his face in your neck.

Your moan is loud, gasped out when he calls you amor, although you try to reason that he is caught up in the sex. Your arms tighten around him and you whimper his name. “Perooooo.” His cock hits perfectly inside you and you shatter, clenching down around him like a vice as you soak him with your juices.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He growls, his fingers digging into your flesh as he thrusts up into you, moaning your name and it doesn’t take him long to cum. Painting your walls for the umpteenth time, he bites down on your shoulder to stop himself saying the words that linger on the tip of his tongue.

“Pero. Pero, oh god.” You cling to him, making your eyes and panting breathlessly at how good it feels. Your eyes water behind your lids and you bite your lip to keep from weeping. You know he is leaving and you don’t think you can bear it.

He caresses your back, kissing the spot he just sunk his teeth into, and he relaxes beneath you. Pulling you down to rest on his chest, he doesn’t say a word, wanting to enjoy this last time before he has to leave.

You sense the fact that he doesn’t want to talk so you snuggle into his embrace and sigh softly. Listening to his head beat in his chest and his breathing whoosh in and out slowly after he catches his breath. Wondering when he is going to leave and how you are going to handle not seeing him again anytime soon.

Pero isn’t sure how long he lays there, now soft but still inside of you, and he breathes you in until there’s a knock at the door. He groans, not liking his peace being disturbed, but you pull off of him and grab your tunic, pulling it over your head so you can open the door. William stands there and nods at you, peeking his head in at his Spanish companion. “It’s time, brother.” Pero nods, stomach twisting as he shifts from under your crumpled sheets to begin getting ready to leave.

Your heart plummets to the floor and you want to slam the door closed and pretend William isn’t there, but there would be no point. Pero isn’t yours. He wasn’t going to stay with you. You bite your lip and look towards Pero. “I will have them pack a bag of food for the road.” You announce before you rush down the stairs, leaving the two men to talk.

Pero speaks to William about the plan to venture East to find the black powder and he isn’t sure if he likes the idea but the coins sound too good to turn down. He would be set for life. He could return to you, marry you, start a life with you. He nods when William tells him to get ready and he takes his time dressing, looking up at you when you step into your room.

“Your food will be ready when you go down to saddle your horse.” You hate the sight of him strapping his armor to his body. The thick leathers changed him from lover to ruthless mercenary. Instead of crying, you move to the water bowl to clean yourself. You will have to go back to work after he leaves, taking other men into your bed.

After finishing tying his boots, Pero stands up to face you. “Gracias, amor. Por todo.” He says and reaches for you to drag you into his chest, his hand cupping the back of your head to keep you as close as possible.

You hate how cold the leathers are, wishing to feel his body again. “Safe travels.” You murmur against his chest. You can’t ask when you will see him again, it is not your place.

Pero slides his hands down your body, committing it to memory, and he leans in to nudge his nose against yours, desperately wishing to kiss you but he knows you have your rules.

You almost do it. You lean in to kiss him but he knows you have to keep that off the table. Instead, you nudge his nose back and inhale steadily. “Be safe, Pero.” You murmur quietly. “I will see you then next time you decide to see me.”

He nods as he pulls back and he stares at you for a moment. “Hasta luego, hermosa.” He murmurs and grabs his satchel, walking away before he falls to his knees and begs you to let him stay.

“Goodbye, Pero.” You murmur softly, watching him walk out the door and listening for his boots thumping on the stairs before your tears start to fall.

It takes everything in him to leave on his stead alongside the Irishman who knows the feelings Pero has for you. He knows you are the woman he loves and he understands why Pero cannot take you as his own. The Spaniard is a complicated man and his emotions are even more chaotic. "She will be there when you come back." William says and Pero just grunts his response.

****

He must be dead. Your heart aches every time someone comes to your bed and it’s not him. Every time the door opens and it’s not the Spaniard, your sighs get a little heavier. Your friends have worried about you as you silently grieve. Pero has either fallen on a battlefield or he has found a wife like he deserved. Either way, the time for him to visit had come and gone four times. A year has passed and you finally admit to yourself that you will never see him again.

Pero looks up at the sky before he steps into the brothel. He’s been gone a year. It’s been a long time and he has gone through so much in the past twelve months. He gives your name at the desk and the matron looks weary but escorts him to your room, knocking on your door and Pero inhales sharply at his first glance at you after so long. “Hola amor.” He murmurs, his heart pounding in his chest.

You freeze, shocked at the sight of Pero in your doorway, looking tired but whole. “You are alive.” You choke out, sure that you would never see him again. You had cried so many nights when your last client had left your bed and the seasons had changed with no word from him. Swallowing harshly, you wonder why he is here now.

“Lo siento, amor.” Pero feels guilty that he didn’t send a rider to give you warning of his arrival but he’d been a little busy trying to not die in the far east. The matron glances between you and decides to leave you to it. Pero shuffles from one foot to the other, waiting for you to make a move.

You bite your lip, trying not to cry because all you want to do is hold him close and kiss him. Then slap his face because he worried you so badly. Clearing your throat, you send him a bland smile. “I am sure you are wanting a meal and a bath?” You ask, trying to keep things as they were before. “You must have been very busy.”

He can tell you’re not happy with him and he frowns, “that would be nice.” He nods and you step aside to let him into your room. “How have you been, hermosa?” He asks softly once he’s sitting down:

“I have not been the best.” You admit with a careless shrug. “I was feeling poorly early this year.” You move towards the door so you can order his bath and meal, none for yourself. “But I have survived.”

Pero frowns even more at that news, worried that he could’ve lost you before he returned. “Good. Always good to survive.” He offers you a small smile that you don’t return and you leave to go order his meal and bath. He sighs, rubbing his neck, and when you come back, he takes out the coins he had in his purse. “I want to pay for your company for a week.” He says, holding the pouch out towards you.

Your hand reaches out while you stare at him. Taking the payment for your body without even really reacting to it, beyond your heart breaking. The confirmation that it had never been more than a physical release for him. You look down at the decidedly heavy pouch for a moment before you reach back and heave it towards him as hard as you can. “I do not want your coins!” You yell, tears immediately flooding your eyes and you are blinded by them.

Pero’s eyes widen and he catches the pouch from his quick reflexes, watching you start to sob. “I- I’m sorry, hermosa. I’ll go. I won’t - I will leave you alone. I thought you wanted me here but apparently you wish for me to leave. I’m sorry. I’ll go.” He promises with a choke, heart breaking as you reject him.

“I- I thought you were dead!” You sob, rushing forward and slamming your fists against his leather covered chest. “M-my heart was broken and you-you walk back in as if a year hasn’t passed and pay for my cunt.” You know you aren’t making sense, you are just a whore to him, but he was your love. You loved him, love him still.

He reaches for your wrists, trying to stop you from hitting him. He pulls back to look at you, “amor. Amor. What - I was in China. I nearly died and I couldn’t get word to you. I- I wanted to return to you. Every night. Wanted to come home to you. I needed the coins so I could lay down my sword and return to you, to give you all of me.”

“Liar.” You sob, shaking your head and trying to pull away from his grip. He won’t let you go and you hate how much you are crying. “If-if you wanted to be with me, you would not offer coin.” You stop struggling and collapse against his chest. “I do not want your coin, I want your heart.” You whimper.

Pero’s chest clenches with frustration and he pulls you into his chest, “you have always had my heart. Since the first week I spent in your company. I gave you my coin, I give you my coin, because I wish to take care of you even in my absence, even when I cannot be here. I wish to provide for you because I - because I love you.”

You close your eyes and sob even harder. In relief, in distress for time that you have missed out on. “I love you, Pero.” You whisper. “Mi amor.” You know that you had been foolishly telling yourself that he had not meant it when he called you his love, you hadn’t dreamed to hope. “I have been saving every coin I could, wishing to leave this life behind.” You confess. “I did not think you could love a whore.”

“I don’t love a whore. I love you. Whatever you do, who you are…means nothing to me. I love you.” He murmurs, caressing your cheeks and he leans in to press his forehead against yours. “Can I kiss you?” He asks, wanting to feel your lips against his for the first time.

You lick your lips, finding them dry as you press closer. “Yes.” You moan softly. “Kiss me, Pero. I need you to kiss me.” You know that you haven’t kissed much, but he is the only man you want to kiss, to touch you, from now on.

Pero leans in, pressing his lips to yours, and it’s a little awkward. He’s never been an affectionate lover until he met you and now he’s aching for your kiss, for your touch. “Te amo.” He murmurs against your lips before he cups your cheek, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss.

You moan into the kiss, your cunt clenching when his tongue slides into your mouth. Sliding your hands up to tangle into his long hair, you pull him close and kiss him back just as fiercely.

His hands let go of your wrists so he can slide his hands down to grab your waist. It’s sloppy and clumsy as he slides his tongue against yours but he feels like he’s home. He feels like the battles he’s endured have been worth it to just have this moment with you in his arms.

When the kiss breaks, both of you are panting softly. “I love you.” You murmur again. “I- I want you to leave with me.” You sigh. “I want to leave the brothel and find a village where I can just be another woman.”

“I have coins, hermosa. That’s why I left. I wanted to return to you with enough coins for us to build a home together in a village. Get married.” He reveals and he lets go of you, fumbling as he reaches beneath his tunic to pull his gold chain out. He takes it off and reveals the ring he has worn there since he left. “It was my mother’s. I want - I want you to have it. For you to be my wife. Will you?” He asks, eyes widen and lower lip pouting as he waits for your answer.

“Pero….” You gasp, looking down at the simple, yet beautiful ring and then back up into his eyes. “I, yes, of course I will marry you.” You promise, beaming before you lunge forward and press your lips to his again.

He feels relieved and happy, for the first time in a long time, he’s happy. His lips press against yours and he pulls back for a moment so he can slide the ring onto your finger. “I need you, amor.” He murmurs, the fire growing in his belly as his desire for you comes to the forefront.

“You always need to fuck me when you come back from the road.” This time, you are giggling as you pull back and take his hand, dragging him towards your cot. “Come, amor, I have missed you between my thighs.” You admit. “And you will be the last man between them so you should service me well.”

“Not yet.” He murmurs, gently pushing you away. “I want to be clean for my wife. Have them to bring the tub and let me clean up before we lay together. I don’t want to risk you.” He says, knowing he had to care more for your well-being now - the woman that he would lay down and die for.

Your brow raises but you do not argue. Instead, you kiss him once more and rush to the door, eager to have the bath brought in. He loves you. He wants to take you away from here and have a life together. You bring up a pail of water yourself, rushing the boys who brought the tub and other buckets inside out the door and latch it behind them.

Pero works fast to strip off, sinking down into the tub after helping you pour the water in and he groans when the steam curls up around him. “Amor, can you cut my hair again?” He asks timidly, almost shy now you have his ring on your finger.

“Of course I can.” You nod as you move towards the scissors, getting them out and smiling as he relaxes and leans back against the rim. “I like your hair shorter and your beard trimmed.” You admit. “But I will take you however I can get you.” Kneeling down behind him, you pull off your tunic and run your fingers through his hair to start cutting it.

Pero smiles softly, "even with my scars?" He asks and you nod, "especially with your scars." Pero's heart thumps and he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the back of it. "I love you." He murmurs and you caress his cheek before you continue working on chopping off his hair.

Once you are done, you wet his hair down and lather soap into it. Smiling when he groans and leans back. Enjoying your fingernails scrubbing his scalp. “Does it feel good, amor?”

“Sí, hermosa.” Pero murmurs, closing his eyes as you wash his hair. “I want to do this for you.” He says, cock twitching when your nails scrap his scalp. He loves it. You finish washing his hair and work on trimming off the excess beard. Pero drinks you in, admiring your features, the way you bite your lip as you concentrate.

When the soap is wiped clean from his face, you smile, running a finger down his cheek. “So handsome.” You coo, “do you want me to wash you as well?” You ask, even as you reach for the clothe and the soap again. The quicker he is clean, the quicker he can touch you.

Pero nods, wanting your touch even though it’s selfish to make you wash him. He groans your name as you start to drag the cloth over his skin and his cock starts to harden. “Te amo.” He murmurs, watching you and his hand comes up to cup your breast.

You moan softly when he squeezes your breast. “Te amo.” You murmur in response, your heart bursting with happiness. You will let Pero rest as long as he needs, but then you will venture to find a place to settle, to build a life together. Your hand wraps around his now clean cock and you pump him gently.

“Mierda.” Pero groans when you squeeze him and he shakes his head, “amor. I want - I want to be inside of you. Please. Let me get out.” He says, pulling your hand off of his cock.

You’re surprised that he doesn’t want you to ride him in his bath, but perhaps he wants this time to be in the cot. Something more meaningful than the times before. You still pout as you stand and reach for the drying cloth as he steps out of the tub.

Pero quickly dries himself off and tosses the cloth aside, reaching for you. He pulls you into his chest, his hard cock trapped between you, and he cups your cheek with one hand as he leans in to press his lips to yours.

It’s softer and sweet, yet the kiss makes you moan. Knowing that this is real. That Pero is here and wants to make you his wife. Your arms wrap around his neck and it’s you that starts to guide him back towards your cot. “I need you.” You beg breathlessly.

Pero needs you too. Desperately. You’re all he has thought about for months. He murmurs your name as he shifts to lay you down on the cot. “Let me make love to you, amor.” He pleads softly, leaning down to wrap his lips around your nipples after positioning himself between your thighs. “I want to taste you.”

“Pero…” you start to protest, knowing that it has been only a day since the last man had been between your thighs but he silences you with a look. You’ve bathed since then, so you lean back and let him do what he wishes with you.

He spreads your thighs as he kisses down your stomach, cock twitching with the thought that it will someday be full of his child, and he inhales deeply when he settles between your thighs. “Fuck, such a pretty cunt.” He mumbles, his hands caressing your soft skin and he leans in to slide his tongue through your folds, not wanting to waste another second.

You keen, back arching your hips would rock up if it weren’t for his body and strong arms pinning you down. “Pero!” You’ve never felt a man’s tongue on your cunt and it’s a delicious sensation.

He knows this is something he will be doing again and again now that you are his. His tongue pushes deep into your walls and he groans as his nose presses against your clit, curling his tongue until he’s pulling back to flick it over your bundle of nerves.

Your eyes close and your fingers twist into the sheets as you start to chant his name. Already close to cumming and finding it to be so much better than his fingers rubbing your clit. “So good.”

He sucks on your clit, desperately wanting you to cum for him. He groans your name into your flesh and pushes two fingers into your cunt as he sucks on your clit a little harder.

“Pero!” Your scream is loud, letting everyone in the brothel hear as you come apart for him. Thighs shaking around his head and your cunt locking down around his fingers while pleasure rushes through your body.

He nearly cums when you gush around his digits but he keeps working his fingers inside of you to keep you pleasured until you’re pushing his head away. He kisses along your thighs as you pant, your chest heaving, and he kisses your stomach up to your breasts, pressing kisses on every inch of skin.

“I love you.” You whimper softly, running your fingers through his hair and smiling softly. You press your lips to his just as soon as he is close enough. Tasting yourself on his lips and humming at the sensation. “I love you so much.”

He smiles against your jaw, “I love you too, mi esposa.” He murmurs and shuffles between your thighs. Reaching down to grip his cock, he pulls back his foreskin and swipes the head against your clit. You whine and he chuckles, positioning himself at your entrance and slowly pushing into you with a low groan.

He feels even bigger, better than he ever had. It might just be your imagination, but it feels that way. Moaning softly, you pull your legs back to take him even deeper until he is buried inside you. “After we marry, I can stop drinking my tea if you would want.” You offer breathlessly, imagining being filled with his baby.

“Yes. Fuck, yes. I want - I want that.” He confesses, imagining you full of his baby has him stopping to control himself. He leans in to nudge his nose against yours, his breathing heavier. “Mi amor. Mi esposa. Mi vida. La madre de nuestros niños.” He murmurs, lost in thoughts of the future until he starts to slowly rock his hips.

“Yes.” You moan quietly. Wrapping your legs around him and sighing softly as he treats you as if you are made of glass. You can feel everything, and it’s exquisite.

He moves slowly inside of you, not wanting to rush this. He murmurs your name again and again, like a prayer, as he makes love to you. His ring on your finger as it glistens in the candlelight and his heart pounds in his chest.

This moment is one that you want to remember forever. Every kiss, ever whispered word of love between. You caress his face and look up at him, finding him even more handsome than ever.

He has fought long and hard to return to you, his lover, his reason for fighting so hard. He rocks into you, his hand gripping yours and he wants to hear the sweet cries of your orgasm. He shifts his weight to one forearm and slides his hand between you so he can rub your clit.

“Pero.” You gasp out when you feel the pressure of his fingers against your clit. “Please, amor.” You beg softly, your body getting closer to cumming with every thrust. You never want to be away from him again. Wanting to spend the rest of your life with your Spaniard.

He works your clit a little faster, wanting you to fall over the edge and it doesn’t take long for you to clamp down on his cock. He doesn’t hold back, he can’t after going so long without you. He paints your walls at the same time you soak his cock and he groans your name as he pushes deep, pressing his lips to yours as he rocks you both through your highs.

You whimper as he rocks himself through the pleasure and sigh when he collapses on top of you. “I love you, Pero.” You whisper softly, heart bursting because your feelings are returned. The mercenary and the whore, a love story that shouldn’t be, but is.

#pedro pascal #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar smut #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar the great wall #tovar x you #tovar x reader #tovar x f!reader #tovar smut #tovar imagine #tovar fanfiction

258 notes · View notes

thsillystringbeanscribbler · 3 months

Text

Bunny Slippers

Summary: While on the hunt for their dad the Winchester brothers are encouraged by Bobby to reach out to an old hunting buddy of John and Bobby. The trip leads to meeting not only a rugged hunter which is a missing puzzle piece to their dad's disappearance but also got to make the acquaintance of his lovely daughter.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader [ OC ]

Warnings: mostly fluff with a sprinkle of possible violence or angst, maybe slow burn (i'm not too sure)

Word Count: 4,685 words

Author's Note: This is my first ever fanfiction. I dont really know how to write y/n so oc is all you're getting. I recently discovered the world of Supernatural and I am in love. This story takes place during Season 1, it doesn't really follow the story line and there might be some lore in accuracies. Please be kind, and I hope you enjoy my little story.

image from Pinterest

With Bobby's wise counsel and the elusive hints scattered in John's journal, he implored the brothers to seek out Rob Blackburn, who could potentially steer them toward John. Rob, as Bobby explained, wasn't just an ally; he was a long-time comrade of both John Winchester and Bobby, often accompanying them on perilous hunts. Armed with this knowledge, Sam and Dean embarked on their journey to Boston in the trusty Impala. Dean took the wheel, immersing himself in the thumping beats of rock and roll, while Sam, map in hand, navigated the labyrinth of roads leading to Robert Blackburn's whereabouts. The pages of John's journal rustled in the background, revealing his own trek to Massachusetts, where he had joined forces with Rob to confront a formidable Wendigo.

In the early autumn morning, the Impala turned down the street of the Blackburn home, the epitome of historical charm found in Boston. The townhouse stands out with its red brick facade, large curved windows adorned with black shutters, and stately black entrance doors. Wrought iron railings line the stone steps leading up to the front doors, and mature trees along the sidewalk cast dappled shadows onto the cobblestone street. The vehicle comes to a halt in front of the winsome townhouse, with its elegance further accentuated by the cascading wisteria, lending a touch of natural beauty to the urban setting.

Dean cut the engine, his gaze shifting from the Blackburn residence to his brother. Sam, peering at Dean, broke the silence with his characteristic intensity. "So, think you're ready to face whatever's in there?" he asked, his voice tinged with both concern and determination.

Dean responded with his usual bravado, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ready? Sam, I was born ready. Let's do this." His tone was confident, almost playful, yet underscored by the seriousness of their mission.

Moving in unison, the brothers climbed the steps to the Blackburn residence. A silent exchange of resolve passed between them as Dean turned to face the ominous black door. He pressed the doorbell, and for a moment, there was only silence. Impatient, Dean began to knock forcefully, intent on getting an answer.

Before he could knock again, hurried footsteps approached from inside. The door swung open to reveal a petite, dishevelled woman. Her light auburn curls were hastily tied atop her head, and her sleepy green eyes, magnified by tortoise-rimmed circle glasses, blinked at the unexpected visitors. Dean's gaze travelled over her, taking in the oversized Van Halen band t-shirt, the long flannel Batman pyjama pants tucked into mismatched white tube socks, and the pink bunny slippers, all indicating she had indeed just rolled out of bed.

The woman, stifling a yawn and crossing her arms defensively, addressed them with a groggy, gravelly voice. "Hello? Can I help you with something?" Her sleepy demeanour contrasted sharply with the urgency of their visit.

The faintest hint of a smile played across Dean's face, a touch of warmth amidst the crisp Boston morning. The dishevelled stranger before him, a haphazardly charming vision in her comic book pyjamas and mismatched socks, sparked a flicker of amusement in his hunter's gaze. She couldn't be much older than Sam, he mused, who was barely past the threshold of twenty-two himself.

Clearing his throat, Dean straightened up a little, his eyes locking onto hers with an earnest steadiness. "Morning," he started, his voice carrying the signature gravel of a man used to long nights and the roar of a V8 engine. "Sorry to wake you, but we're looking for Rob Blackburn. The thing is," he paused, the weight of their search momentarily tightening his features, "our dad was working a case with him, and now... Dad's gone off the grid. We were hoping Rob might have some answers."

He watched her closely, not just for her response, but for any sign, any tell that might unravel the mystery of their father's whereabouts.

The woman's head tilted slightly, causing a few untamed curls to escape her hastily made morning bun. She squinted at Dean, her eyebrows knitting together in a puzzled frown. As her gaze shifted between Dean and Sam, a hint of wariness crept into her expression. "Sorry," she murmured, her free hand sliding under her glasses to rub at a sleepy eye. "But who are you guys, exactly?" she asked, her lips pursed slightly, clearly waiting for an explanation.

Dean met her gaze squarely, his expression a blend of seriousness and charm. "Name's Dean and this towering figure here is my brother, Sam," he said with a hint of a smirk. "We're here looking for Rob. You might know him through our dad, John Winchester. They go way back, and it's kind of important we talk to him." His tone carried the urgency of their quest, yet remained respectful, acknowledging the oddity of their early morning visit.

Her eyebrows lifted from their puzzled frown as the name John Winchester sparked a flicker of recognition in her features. Hesitating for a moment, she leaned slightly forward, peering past Sam and Dean to scan the street. Her green eyes settled on the shiny black Chevy parked in front of the house. Dean, noticing her gaze, followed it to the Impala.

With his trademark flirtatious smile, Dean couldn't resist a playful comment. "Hey, if you're interested, I could show you what she's really capable of," he said, nodding towards the Impala. The woman's eyes snapped back to Dean, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. Realizing how his words might have sounded, Dean quickly clarified with a cheeky grin, "The Impala, I mean. A ride in the car."

She nodded silently, her cheeks now a deeper shade of red. A bit flustered, she stuttered, "Uh–" but then, meeting Sam's hazel eyes, she paused, took a deep breath, and regained her composure. "I'll be right back," she said before gently closing the door.

Dean left staring at the black door, perked up his ears as he heard her voice escalate inside, calling out, "Dad! The Winchesters are here!" After a brief silence, her voice rose again, more insistent this time, "DAD!"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look of surprise at the volume of her shout. The response came in the form of a deep, muffled reply from within. The door creaked open again, and the woman offered an awkward smile. "He'll be down so–"

Before she could finish, a tall, muscular man in plaid flannel pyjama pants and a simple grey t-shirt descended the stairs. He stood imposingly behind her, his voice deep and gravelly. "Mornin'," he greeted, eyeing the brothers. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Definitely John's boys," he observed as he extended his hand.

Dean grasped his hand firmly. "Dean," he introduced himself with a nod.

Sam followed suit, shaking Rob's hand. "Sam. It's good to meet you."

Rob's genuine smile broadened. "Rob. Nice to finally meet you boys. John's told me a lot about you two."

In the midst of the heartfelt introductions, Rob's daughter slipped out under her father's arm, who was now holding the door open. He quickly turned his head to call after her, "Jay, boil the water. We're gonna need some coffee."

Rob then stepped aside, inviting them in. "C'mon in," he said, glancing once more at the street as the brothers entered. "Damn, is that John's Impala?" he asked, intrigued.

Dean turned back to Rob, a hint of pride in his voice. "Actually, she's mine now. Dad left her to me. She's got more history and miles on her than most cars on the road. Runs like a dream, though." His words were laced with respect and a touch of nostalgia for both the car and his father.

The boys followed the barefoot Rob Blackburn into his living room. The space was a testament to a life well-lived and richly layered, a striking balance between the modern and the memorabilia of yesteryear. They stepped through the wooden archway, and Dean's gaze swept the room—a harmony of contemporary and eclectic tastes.

The living room was bathed in morning sunlight from a large, bay window framing the greenery and wisteria blossoms outside, its grandeur contrasted by the cozy array of furniture. A plush, dark green sofa accented with earth-toned pillows invited comfort and long conversations. Across the room, a pair of vintage armchairs stood guard, their fabric hinting at a past era. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, a ladder poised as if in mid-ascent, suggesting a world of knowledge and stories just out of reach. In the center, a stately wooden coffee table bore the weight of books and vases, while a Persian rug beneath whispered tales of ancient craftsmanship.

Above the mantel, a flat-screen TV was mounted, an anachronism amid the classical vibe. The mantle itself was a gallery of personal history, with frames marching across its length like milestones. Dean's eyes traced the journey of the dishevelled girl named Jay through frozen moments: school plays, graduations, and candid laughter.

One photograph, in particular, seized Dean's attention, squeezing his heart with the force of a long-forgotten song. There, captured in the stillness of time, was a young woman with auburn curls, her arm casually draped over a youthful Mary Winchester. Beside her, a younger Rob stood with an easy stance, and on the other side, John Winchester's smile reached out, as bright and as real as if he were standing in the room with them.

Dean found his voice, roughened by the swell of memory. "You've got quite the place here, Rob. Feels like a home that's seen a lot of good times," he said, his eyes not leaving the photograph.

Rob, following Dean's gaze, nodded with a touch of nostalgia. "Yeah, it's been through a lot. Every piece has a story, especially those photos," he said, his voice softening. "That one there," he pointed to the photograph that held Dean's gaze, "was from a summer BBQ we had right after John got back from a tour. Good times indeed, Dean.”

With a comforting pat on Dean's shoulder, Rob motioned towards the dark green sofa. "Please, take a seat," he said in a voice that carried the warmth of a seasoned host. Sam was already lounging there, looking every bit the part of a man ready to delve into matters of gravity and ghosts. Rob's towering presence moved towards one of the vintage armchairs, his movements measured and graceful. He sank into the chair with the ease of a man in his own sanctuary.

Dean observed Rob, taking in the rugged features that spoke of a life lived much like their father's—on the road, but always returning home. The man sitting across from him had a face that bore the marks of laughter and squinting against the sun, a generous beard that was well kept but suggested it could tell stories of its own. His hair, though tousled from sleep, had the hint of waves, and the light caught the flecks of gray that ran through it like silver threads in a tapestry. There was a certain comfort in his ruggedness, an unspoken kinship that Dean recognized well.

Rob caught Dean's gaze and chuckled, a sound that seemed to reverberate around the room. "My apologies, if I'd known Johnny's boys would be showing up on my doorstep, I'd have made myself presentable," he said, his fingers raking through his hair in a vain attempt to tame it.

Their conversation was paused as Jay quietly made her entrance, her arms full with an offering of steaming mugs. Dean's eyes followed her every step, noting the careful balance as she placed the coffee on the table with precision. The small, satisfied smile that danced across her lips made Dean's own lips twitch in response. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a look of comical frustration.

Jay stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes closed, speaking through gritted teeth. "I was so proud of not spilling coffee, I forgot people might want milk and sugar too."

Dean leaned forward, picked up one of the mugs, and met her frustrated gaze with a reassuring smile. "Don't sweat it, Jay. I take my coffee black as midnight on a moonless night," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "It's the best way to kick-start the day, especially when there's work to be done." He took a sip, letting the rich bitterness of the coffee linger, a stark contrast to the gentle chaos of the morning.

Jay—no, Julia—looked momentarily taken aback, an unspoken question flickering in her eyes about Dean's use of her nickname. Before she could voice it, Rob intervened with a throaty chuckle that broke the brief silence. "Dean, Sam, if it wasn't already apparent, this spirited individual is my daughter Julia."

Julia's expression folded into a mix of amusement and mild embarrassment at her father's words. "Introductions must've slipped my mind earlier," Rob added, his eyes twinkling with paternal amusement.

With a graceful motion that seemed to betray her earlier fluster, Julia tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Was a bit scattered, to be honest," she admitted as a soft hue painted her cheeks.

He offered her a warm, appreciative smile, and she, in turn, blushed a shade deeper, hastily picking up the one mug that held coffee lightened with milk. "Anyway, I'm—" she started, her voice trailing off as she backed away, thumbing in the direction of the staircase, "—going to get dressed."

With that, Julia turned, her retreat up the stairs as quick as it was quiet, leaving the conversation to hang in the warm, coffee-scented air of the living room.

The trio settled into an easy silence, the kind that speaks of understanding rather than discomfort. Eventually, Rob broke the stillness, setting his coffee cup down with a soft clink. "Not that I'm complaining about having John's boys over," he began, his voice even and curious, "but what brings you to my door?"

Sam, always the one to dive into the details, took the lead. "Well, Rob, from what we've pieced together with Bobby's input and clues from Dad's journal, it seems John was here in Boston not too long ago. He was helping you out with a wendigo situation," he explained. "You might have been one of the last people to see him. Now, Dean and I are crisscrossing the country, trying to track him down."

Dean, meanwhile, was only half-listening, his mind wandering as he sipped the robust black coffee. His thoughts were momentarily caught up with Julia—her surprising affinity for classic rock band shirts, her effortless command of the room, despite her earlier disarray. There was an allure there that Dean couldn't quite dismiss.

Realizing he needed to jump back into the conversation, he met Rob's gaze over the rim of his mug. "So, any chance Julia might know something that could help us out?" he asked, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of hope. It was a thinly veiled attempt to weave Julia back into their narrative—perhaps more for another encounter than actual investigative purposes.

Rob leaned back, a faint smile playing on his lips as he cradled his mug. "Julia? She wasn't really involved with the hunting side of things with John. She's the brains, does all the research," he began, but the strains of Led Zeppelin suddenly filled the room, filtering through the walls of Julia’s bedroom, in a muffled but unmistakable riff.

He laughed, a low, rich sound, and shook his head affectionately. "Yeah, she's a history major. She’s got her nose usually buried in old books. But she did dig into the Wendigo lore while John was around. Spent a few hours picking his brain, so it might be worth a shot to ask her," Rob conceded, acknowledging the potential value in speaking with his daughter once more.

As the sun arced higher in the sky outside the arch window, time seemed to fold in on itself within the Blackburn residence. The conversation ebbed and flowed naturally, the brothers and Rob exchanging tales and theories about the elusive Wendigo. Engrossed in the retelling, they barely noticed the passage of time until the Led Zeppelin anthem that had been humming in the background abruptly ceased. A hush fell over the house, and Dean couldn't help but cast a puzzled look towards Rob, who appeared unfazed by the sudden silence, continuing his story with the ease of a man accustomed to the unpredictable soundtrack of a busy household.

Dean's attention was drawn towards the hallway as a flash of red caught his eye—a pair of Converse sneakers, the unmistakable hallmark of a casual yet deliberate style. As Julia came into view, his gaze instinctively followed the line of her high-waisted jeans up to her neatly tucked-in white shirt. Gone was the disarray of the morning; in its place stood Julia, transformed. Her light auburn curls, now tamed and flowing gracefully down her back, framed a face of calm composure.

She paused in the archway, and for a moment, there was a silent exchange as Dean's eyes met hers—no longer sleepy, but sharp and full of life.

Rob, seizing the opportunity, looked up at his daughter with a mix of pride and practicality. "Perfect timing, Jay. Do you recall any of the details from when John helped out with the Wendigo case? I'd take a stab at finding the research in the office, but I still can't make heads or tails of your organization system."

Julia's lips pursed lightly, a subtle indication she was preparing to delve into her mental archives, but before she could articulate her thoughts, Rob interjected with decisiveness. "Great, I'll go get changed, and you can show the boys what you've got."

Julia nodded, a silent agreement to take the lead, and Dean couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for the way she navigated her father's expectations with grace. There was more to Julia than met the eye, and Dean was keen to uncover the depths of her knowledge—not just for the sake of their quest, but perhaps, for the simple pleasure of her company.

As Rob ascended the stairs, Julia began gathering the empty coffee mugs with an efficiency that spoke of routine. She gave Sam and Dean a quick, playful grin. "I'll just drop these off in the kitchen, then we can dive into the research. Hope you're ready for a bit of a deep dive," she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of excitement about the task ahead. She turned on her heel, the cups clinking softly as she vanished down the hall.

Dean watched her go, an appreciative gleam in his eye. Sam, catching this all-too-familiar look, turned his entire body to face his brother, his expression a blend of warning and wisdom.

"Dean, I'm gonna say this once: tread carefully, man," Sam advised, leaning in slightly to emphasize his point.

Dean turned to his brother, feigning innocence. "What are you talking about, Sammy?"

Sam fixed Dean with a knowing look, the kind that only a lifetime of brotherhood could perfect. "Julia. I see that look in your eyes," he cautioned, his voice serious but not unkind.

A roguish smirk danced across Dean's face, his thoughts lingering on the spark he'd felt during their brief interactions. "Can't help it if there's a mutual spark. And come on, Sam—she's smart, she's into Zeppelin, and she's got that whole natural beauty thing going on. It's not just me," Dean defended with a casual shrug, trying to brush off the gravity of Sam's warning with his characteristic nonchalance.

Julia reemerged with a swift grace, pausing at the doorway, her demeanor alight with the thrill of sharing her world. The excitement seemed to emanate from her, an infectious energy that promised revelations and secrets held within her scholarly trove. As Sam and Dean stood, ready to be led into her realm of research, Sam's encouragement was both genuine and anticipatory.

"Rob mentioned you're quite the expert. Can't wait to see the treasures you've been working on," he said, his kind smile acknowledging her expertise.

Julia's response was tinged with humility and appreciation. "That's really nice of you to say," she replied, leading the way up the stairs with a lightness in her step that suggested she was as eager to share as they were to learn.

Reaching the second-floor landing, they were greeted by the impressive sight of a bookshelf that seemed to serve both as a doorway and a guardian of knowledge. Passing through the archway, both Winchesters couldn't help but pause, struck by the beauty of the room that unfolded before them.

They were surrounded by the warmth of aged wood and the silent stories of countless tomes. A built-in window seat nestled against a bay window offered a view of the soft purple wisteria blossoms framing the glass. The room was steeped in the warmth of vintage charm and the whispered stories of countless books. The walls are lined with towering shelves, crafted from dark, polished wood that gleams under the soft golden hue of strategically placed lamps. Each shelf is a testament to a bibliophile's passion, densely packed with books of varying sizes, their spines creating a colourful mosaic that speaks to years of collection and care.

In one corner, a plush armchair sits invitingly, upholstered in a rich, patterned fabric that echoes the bygone era of Victorian elegance. Next to it, a small table holds a crystal decanter of amber liquid and matching glasses, alongside a pile of well-thumbed novels, suggesting a perfect nook for sipping and reading. The heavy curtains pulled back from a large window allow the gentle light to filter in, casting a serene glow over the scene.

Despite the room's orderly foundations, there's a deliberate messiness to it that adds character. Stacks of books and papers teeter precariously on every available surface, including the floor, where a worn Persian rug lays as a testament to the many hours spent lost in literature. The desk is a landscape of creative chaos, with open books, notes scribbled on loose papers, and a vintage typewriter pushed to one side to make room for a modern laptop, showing the blend of old and new.

Unique artifacts are nestled among the books: a vintage globe, a brass telescope, and curious trinkets like skulls and antique scissors, each with its own untold backstory. The space is a sanctuary of knowledge, history, and personal quirks, inviting you to explore its depths, both literary and personal.

As Julia completed a graceful pirouette, her arms outstretched to present the room, her eyes met theirs with a spark of shared understanding. "This is where the magic happens," she declared, her smile as genuine as the passion that clearly fueled her pursuit of knowledge. The invitation was clear, and the Winchesters stepped into her world, ready to be enchanted by the magic of her making.

The effervescent joy Julia exuded was infectious, and Dean found himself basking in a reflected glow of happiness as he watched her navigate the room. He leaned against the doorway, observing her as she gathered an armful of papers and books, her movements a dance of efficiency amid the charming chaos. With a deft hand, she rehomed the collected clutter atop another table already brimming with the weight of research.

"Here," she sang out, her voice carrying the lightness of a melody, as she flitted from one end of the room to the other, her presence transforming the space into something ethereal. She was like a sprite in her own domain, orchestrating the energy of the room with every sweep of her arm.

Sam and Dean approached the cleared chairs with a hint of hesitation, not wanting to disturb the artful disorder of her workspace. They settled into the seats, and Julia paused in her bustling, resting a hand on the back of Dean's chair. For a moment, she stood still, lost in thought, and Dean found himself enveloped in the subtle scent that clung to her—pistachio, perhaps, and something sweetly salted, like caramel. It was warm and inviting, and his heart thrummed a little faster in his chest as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Julia's contemplative silence broke, and she turned her gaze to meet Sam's, her expression earnest. "I have a lot of material on the Wendigo—notes, theories, patterns. John had me assist him with something else, too," she confided, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "But before I share anything, you have to promise not to tell my dad. He tends to be... overly protective about certain things."

Her eyes lingered on Sam, seeking an assurance of confidentiality, an unspoken pact between them. Dean felt a tug of curiosity, an eagerness to delve into the knowledge she held, and he nodded in silent agreement, keenly aware of the trust she was placing in their hands.

Sam met Julia's earnest gaze, understanding the gravity of her request. He nodded, a silent promise etched into the gesture. "You have our word, Julia. Whatever you share with us stays between us," Sam assured her, his tone underscored with the seriousness of a sworn oath.

Dean, who had been momentarily caught in the sensory spell of Julia's presence, now anchored himself in the moment, the importance of her trust not lost on him. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with hers, reinforcing the vow. "We've kept secrets bigger than a bunker," he said, a soft, conspiratorial edge to his voice. "Your research is safe with us."

Julia, seemingly satisfied with their assurance, pulled a deep breath before she began, her eyes momentarily flitting to the ceiling as if gathering the threads of her thoughts. "Okay," she started, her voice now a hushed whisper, "John and I were looking into some lore—old, obscure stuff, not just your run-of-the-mill monster tales. It's about something much older, something he was tracking long before the Wendigo."

The room seemed to hold its breath as Julia spoke, the brothers leaning in, captivated by the prelude to secrets yet untold. The promise they had made bound them to this space, to the words that were about to unfold, weaving them into the fabric of Julia's clandestine work.

With the silence of one well-versed in the quietude of libraries, Julia drifted towards the bay window, her figure briefly silhouetted against the gentle light. She took a swift left into a nook, where a ceiling-high cupboard was nestled like a secret chamber within the room. Sam and Dean sat in anticipation, their ears tuned to the soft hum of her tune, punctuated by the rustle of papers as she rummaged within the cupboard's depths.

The cupboard doors clicked shut, and Julia returned to the table, her arms wrapped around a thick brown accordion folder that seemed to challenge her with its heft. With careful steps, she approached, placing the folder on the table before sliding into the last remaining chair—inevitably, the one next to Dean.

As she scooted her chair in, the proximity brought a subtle contact; her knee brushed against Dean's, a fleeting touch that sent a heightened awareness coursing through him. Julia opened the folder with a sense of ceremony, unleashing a cascade of notebooks and papers, each leaf carrying the weight of diligent inquiry.

Sam immediately delved into one of the notebooks, his eyes scanning the bubbly script and the stark sketches that accompanied the text. Dean, however, remained focused on Julia, his curiosity piqued not just by the research but by the researcher herself.

"So, what was it my dad had you digging into?" Dean inquired, his voice low and earnest, inviting confidence.

Julia's gaze lifted to meet his, a current of intensity passing between them. "A demon," she began, her voice barely above a murmur, as if the very word might invoke the creature's attention. Her eyes flicked to Sam's, ensuring she had both brothers' undivided attention, before she continued, "The Yellow-Eyed Demon."

To be continued . . .

Chapter Two

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam and dean #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #spn #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #sam winchester #supernatural fic #supernatural season 1 #dean winchester imagine

62 notes · View notes

enchantedchocolatebars · 3 months

Text

A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human Chapter 1: (Our Story Begins)

Written by 💕 enchantedchocolatebars 🍫 (me lol).

Commission cover art here.

Cover art poll here.

Chapter titles here.

Chapter 1 snippet here.

Chapter 2 here.

Enjoy ! <3

(The other chapters will be linked here.)

(If you enjoy my shorter works, I highly recommend that you start reading this fic series as it will have twice the amount of words and effort put into it, and will be my main focus going forward. It's a charming tale that is very Disney-like about how Caleb and my wittewife oc, Clara, came together. Although they don't appear in this chapter, they will appear in the subsequent ones. I appreciate any and all feedback if you are interested in sharing or sending any. Being that this is my first ever chapter fic, I'll be promoing and reblogging about it a lot.)

Even though the Titan did enjoy watching his living son from the floating cubes that drifted around in the realm known as the In Between as doing so gave him the opportunity to watch his son grow up, he also liked spending time with his unhatched children.

Tonight was family game night.

“So,” the Titan began, smiling what was a close approximation to a smile down at his three little titan eggs who were sitting in front of him in a pool of shallow water.

Egg number one wore a pink bow, egg number two wore a blue baseball cap, and egg number three wore an egg-sized ‘Bad Girl Coven’ t-shirt, which matched with the one its father wore.

Reaching behind his back, the Titan happily pulled out two board game boxes.

The box in his left hand had a picture of a checkerboard, while the other displayed the image of a black king chess piece.

“What game should we play tonight?” he asked his egglings, not expecting them to give him a verbal answer as he had the ability to comprehend them without verbalization.

He holds up the first option. “Checkers?” He lists off, shaking the box some before bringing it down and lifting up the second option, repeating the process. “Or chess?”

The eggs, of course, stayed silent about the choices, but still communicated to their papa.

“…,”

The Titan couldn’t contain the buoyant laughter that decided to bubble up out of his chest when he heard them.

“Very well,” he said with a second chuckle, stowing the checkers box behind his back once again before using a single beckoning gesture of his finger to raise a table from below the shallow surface of the water.

Once the Titan sets the chess box down on the table, he opens it and takes out the board before laying it out.

“We’ll start with chess first and play checkers afterward. I’ll even throw in an extra game just for the fun of it,” he tells his eggs with a tender smile, placing the black and white chess pieces in their proper places.

He puts the pawns in front, then lines up the other pieces symmetrically with the king and queen in the middle.

Next, the Titan walks over and, with extra care and very gentle claws, picks up his little eggling in the blue baseball cap.

Heading over to its chair, he produces a plump white pillow from thin air onto it and carefully sets it down.

Two more plump pillows are conjured across from the table as the Titan picks up his other two eggs and settles them down on their seats.

They were going to watch their papa play against their sibling in a match.

Upon taking his seat at the table, the Titan casts a sunny smile across his scruffy face as he gazed at his child.

"I know this is your first time playing chess," he began in a kind and understanding voice before continuing.

"So I'll share with you what I know."

"...," went the egg to its father.

Such an innocently childlike response led to the Titan's soft chuckle, his bony smile reaching all the way up to his round, hollow eyes.

"Don't worry," he reassured to his unhatched egg softly.

"I'll explain all the basics to you, and we'll start slowly and take our time while playing."

Chess was a challenging and complex game, he knew that.

The Titan wasn't very fond of the classic board game at first when he first started playing it with a human man with blonde hair and a forelock.

However, as their games progressed and the man taught him the basics, his liking for it increased.

"...?" asked the egg.

The Titan nodded. "Promise," he said as their chess lesson began.

The two most crucial pieces in the game are reached for by clawed hands.

"See these two guys here?" The Titan asked his egg, holding the pieces in his hand before continuing.

"In chess, we call them kings. Each player only gets one, and they're the most important pieces in the game. You want to attack your opponent's king while also keeping your own king safe and protected."

King.

Safe.

Protected.

The Titan's mind was filled with memories of his oldest son.

He sighs of bliss from the memories before continuing with his explanation.

"Once the king is captured, the game ends, so always remember to keep him shielded."

As the Titan lists off the other pieces, he points at them.

"Each player controls 16 pieces: 8 pawns, 2 bishops, 2 knights, 2 rooks, 1 king, and 1 queen."

"...?"

Papa Titan chuckles.

"The knights are the little horse heads, and the rooks are the little castle towers," he told his little one.

"Each chess piece has its own unique way of moving across the board and potentially capturing your opponent's pieces as it goes."

He points at the pawns.

"Pawns have the ability to move one square forward per turn, except for their first turn when they have the ability to move two squares forward. Pawns move diagonally forward by capturing other pieces diagonally. They cannot move backwards."

After explaining the other pieces to his egg in great detail, Papa Titan moves on to the gameplay and strategy.

...

"... And that's the game!" The Titan finishes his final statement with a grin.

Hands are placed on his hips.

"Sounds simple, right?"

"...," the egg said otherwise as a multitude of thoughts swirled inside its shell.

The Titan nodded with complete understanding of the overwhelming feeling.

"It's a lot to take in, but I think you can do it," he gently encouraged with a fatherly smile before continuing.

"Since you're just starting out, focus on always protecting your king, and you'll do just fine."

He gestures for the egg to make the first move.

As soon as he blinks, he observes that a white pawn has moved two spaces forward.

The Titan smiles, doing the same with his black one.

Upon the second blink, his eyes detect an advanced white king on the board, causing him to let out a jolly laugh.

"You're already a natural at this," he complimented, moving his knight.

Blinking, he notices that his child has pushed his king piece up a space.

In response, the Titan opened up a rook by pushing a pawn.

After more pieces are pushed, the Titan blinks again and sees that he's been checkmated.

He gives a playful laugh. "Well, that was certainly fun! You win!"

A hand hovers over the egg, gently patting the top part of its shell. "Good job."

...

After family game night concluded, the three eggs, who were now wearing small night caps that fit them just right, were curled up in bed under a thick comforter together as their father entered their room with a light brown hardcover book tucked under his arm.

"I'm hope you're all ready for tonight's story," he began, his voice so soft and tender as he took a seat in the rocking chair in the middle of the room.

"Because it's one of my favorites," he reveals with a gentle chuckle, showing off the cute cover to his children.

It was adorned with a gold border as scatters of sparkles and hearts were displayed in the background.

A happy human dressed in a pink suit and a winsome witch dressed in a blue gown were in the foreground, their respective palismen on each of their shoulders.

Behind them was another human with a beard, angrily spying on them in a bush with a bird perched on his head.

"It's titled 'A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human'," The Titan read as he opened the book and turned to the first page.

"Our story begins in Bonesborough..."

57 notes · View notes

yukimiyaz · 1 year

Note

ok ok :( what about like kurona who just really likes it when you play with his hair, he’ll even let you do his tiny littol braid or put clips in his hair cause he likes how it feels

kurona likes to think of himself as a relatively observant man. one who finds things easy to catch on to and willing to cultivate around. one who is knowing, about things that matter, at the very least.

so it hits him rather harshly when you make him discover things about himself that he somehow didn't know before.

he has always been fond of affection—especially yours—and that is nothing new. how your hand grazes along his shoulder when you walk behind the couch. how you have a habit of tracing tiny hearts or sentiments you think he can't decipher onto the back of his hand when you're bored. how you slump into him after a long day and nuzzle underneath his jaw, press kisses there as you mumble about your dreaded hardships.

but his world tilts a little when your fingers snake their way north of his neck.

he's had people mess with his hair before; tug at his braid or poke at his spikes to see if they're as stiff as they look. but there's something different about how you go about it. something... winsome.

the first time it happened was when he came home one night after an away match. it was late, you were already in bed, he knew this. so he was quiet as he slinked in. dropping his duffel and discarding his outer clothes in favor of climbing into bed next to your sleeping form. you looked so peaceful he didn't want to startle you, he could say a proper hello in the morning, after all. so he simply slipped underneath the covers, craned over to press a longing kiss to your shoulder, and rested his head there for just a moment.

a second later is when he felt it. the pressure of your hand to the back of his head, your fingers sifting through the (probably a little grimy, honestly) tufts. your nails skimmed across the tightness of his scalp and kurona is damn near positive that he melted so heavily into you he fused with your own skin.

the serenity it brought him, the peace that flooded his chest—the endearment that swallowed him whole—was enough to send him barrel rolling off the deep end of unknown pleasures within himself. and he could no longer get enough.

which seems to ring true even now, as he lays across the couch with his head in your lap as you ramble about your day.

"and then—get this," you scoff, fingers scritching at the hair by his temples, weaving their way back until you're nearly lifting his head to skim the base of his skull. he loves this, truly. "he blamed me for not having my name on it. as if that means my lunch in the workroom fridge is fair game. can you believe it?"

"no," he obliges; the answer he thinks that you're looking for. truthfully, he's been half zoned out, reveling in your touch and letting his eyelids grow heavier and heavier. "what a jerk move."

"right?!" and suddenly your hands are retracting, making kurona's heavy lids shoot a little more alert with the fear your touch will be leaving him. but you simply shift, skim past the left side of his face to grasp the sliver of hair he usually plaits. he relaxes once again. "so i told him the next time he takes my lunch, i'll shove my fist so far down his throat that..."

you're still talking, he is aware, but he isn't really listening. so unlike him, in all honestly, but he doesn't think he can be to blame. your finger is twirling around his hair now, combing through the lock and twisting it as you please. he wonders if you'll try a different braid tonight, like the fishtail one you showed him the other day and propositioned with gleaming eyes. he thinks he'd let you. he thinks he'd let you do anything if it meant your fingers were still entangled in his faded pink strands.

he's continuing his contemplation when your hands come to a stop; a pause ceasing their mindless fiddling. he blinks up at you, zones back in, and he realizes your mouth is no longer moving, but is now cinched in a bit of a pout.

"hey, don't tell me i'm putting you to sleep," you gripe, though he notices there really is no bite. not one he can detect at the very least, "were you even listening to me?"

"yes," he replies instantly, nodding his head in your lap, "keep going."

and he halfway expects you to (you often times do, when you're riled up like this) but instead you ask him the one question he was hoping you wouldn't. "oh yeah? what was i saying then?"

your boyfriend blinks up at you. a pair of them, then thrice. you know good and well he wasn't listening, you just want him to admit it. after a sliver too long of silence, you tug on the strand of hair you still have wrapped around your fingers and he sucks air through his teeth.

"ah," he hums, narrows his eyes up at you ever so slightly, "that isn't playing. or fair."

you tug his braid again, but this time you retract your hands after. testing your hypothesis, proving your thesis right. kurona's head is raising up a second later and his shoulders are shifting enough to turn and face you. his warm palm finds your wrist and wraps around it, pulling your hand back to him—to his hair.

"okay, i wasn't listening," he admits, fully, "but i promise i will if you don't stop doing that. repeat yourself just this once, please."

his eyes are so pleading, so begging, that part of you thinks he might have been your devoted worshipper in a past life; kneeling before you for the mere honor of laying his head into your lap. you smile at the thought, and at him, and you indulge him—if only to watch his slit pupils expand.

"mkay," you adhere, and try not to let your smile appear too shit eating as you begin to separate the strands for his braid. "if you say so."

kurona melts into your touch once more, but this time he stays attentive. he likes to think of himself as a well observant man, but sometimes outliers tend to send his reception askew.

but as long as your fingers always find their way back to the weaves of his scalp, he thinks he's okay with being off beat every once in a while.

#this is short and scampy i’m so sorry #BUT BUT HES JSHT. HEEEEKENDJ #ooiugghhhh i want him #idk if this is really what u wanted so i’m So Sorry in advance if it’s not #but i just : ( GAHHHHHH #yukinbox ཐི♡ཋྀ #signed: aali <3 #kurona x reader #kurona ranze x reader #bllk x reader #yukimiyaz writing

223 notes · View notes

johnadamsbignaturals · 1 year

Note

Favorite 1776 song?

“The Lees of Old Virginia”, “He Plays the Violin”, and “Molasses to Rum” are all good contenders with their own strong points, but i think that my favorite would have to be “Cool Cool Considerate Men”

#IT’S GOT EVERYTHING #and an honorable mention to is everybody there (but it’s best experienced watching a live production)#1776 #broadway #1776 musical #winsome’s wailings #winsome’s answers

28 notes · View notes

memesandmylife · 8 months

Note

have you heard the song mona lisa by lil wayne i think you’d like it based on your taste in women

literally need me a bitch like that

#also this is going on more than one oc playlist #thanks anon #winsome’s wailings #winsome’s answers

0 notes

brw · 1 year

Note

4, 6, 12, 29, and 30 for Hank & Jan :)

4. Who can't keep their hands to themselves?

Okay, definitely Janet, she's incredibly physically affectionate and is constantly seeking kisses and embraces and the whole works, but Hank can get way more physically intimate than I think people give him credit for, and makes a habit of sneaking his arms around Jan when he's in a good mood.

12. What first changes when it starts getting serious?

I think Hank definitely becomes far more interested in actually telling Janet about himself–he's usually such a private person so after he realises he is actually considering a genuine romantic relationship with Janet he goes to the other extreme and has like 5 different family gatherings planned so she can meet his parents n stuff :)

For Janet, I think she would be surprisingly practical! I can see her like trying to figure out how she would finance Hank's scientific pursuits if they start living together, and I think she starts bringing him along to a lot more of her fashion shows because she really wants to share this part of her life with the person she wants to be her life partner. Hank doesn't quite get it, but he's happy to be included even if he feels woefully out of place in his oversized suit.

29. Why do they fall a little bit more in love?

For Hank; her neverending determination, her maturity that exists underneath her flighty, over the top personality, her playfulness and the way she inspires him to do better and to be better.

For Janet; his strong sense of duty, the way he's so determined to make the world a better place, and the moments he allows himself to relax and make jokes and be affectionate when he's normally so guarded.

30. Why does it work (or not work) between them?

Why it does work; they are extremely in tune with each other–I mean they literally come as a matched set. They know each other so well they can easily finish each others sentences, and they are both extremely familiar to one another.

Why it doesn't work; well, beyond the obvious, I think they just have extremely different styles in showing and expressing feelings and love and a lot of conflict can from that. Both of them are extremely stubborn, which works in the battlefield but less so when one of you has severely dropping mental health but neither of you can admit that readily.

Ship ask meme

6. Who would they ask if they ever had a threesome?

Thor, Bill Foster, maybe 2000s attempt at getting back together HankJan would ask Wanda 😁

#ask games} answers #thank you sm!#i dont have a personalised tag yet 4 you ill do that soon ❤️#penandpage #hankjanet #hank pym #ch: the wonderfully winsome wasp

7 notes · View notes

maratus-araneae · 6 months

Note

🎶 for Albert!

Lmao, I got Avril Lavigne's cover of Bad Reputation. I based the fic in an au where we've captured Leon (I don't think he'd make it through this one lol). It's not very... shippy? But I like it. Thanks for the ask!!

-----

Albert watched from the shadows.

"Why on earth are you working with him?" Leon hissed. "We could get you out of here, you could work somewhere with a good reputation, instead of being some sort of crazy bio-terrorist!"

Maratus scoffed at him. "I have no desire to have a 'good reputation,' Leon. And as far as crazy goes, I don't need to please you, you're stuck in the past. The world needs to progress, and the cost is too much for some people these days. Most importantly of all," he leaned into the other man's space, "I'm having fun. With Albert at my side, I'm living my best life. I don't intend to change any of that."

Albert smiled, and silently put his gun away.

#sparkle answers #winsome weapons

1 note · View note

dreamingcloudie · 1 year

Text

❛❛ A Star That No Longer Shines ❜❜

✎ ❛❛ Among the stars is where I'll be waiting... ❜❜

Pairing(s): Dottore x GN!Reader

Genre/Format: Angst (onehsot)

Warning(s): Death, use of Dottore's (speculated) real name

wc: ~3k

Notes: This is a re-post cus the previous one wasn't showing up in tags fsr— Got this idea from an anon! Been writing quite a lot of fluff lately. It's time for some sad >:)

The stars used to hold a never-ending shimmer to them. Was it just him or were they getting dimmer everyday?

You’ve always loved the night sky, a barren canvas painted with a cluster of flickering lights, such a magnificent view must’ve been crafted by the delicate hands of a god. Caged by this Eleazar of yours, what’s better than to go stargazing with your lover?

For him, however, it was quite the contrary. He loathed them, it was as if their blazing gaze were mocking him. The disdain he held for dainties stopped him from appreciating the view.

With every chance that you had, you’d drag him onto the balcony installed in his resting quarters, bringing a fluffy blanket and two hot drinks with you. Sitting on the cold stone floor with crossed legs as you draped a blanket over your forms, sipping your favorite drinks away while your eyes were fixated at the sky.

He was not fond of it at first, he knew the sky was a hoax, after all. It was all just a fabrication to deceive the human kind, he didn’t see the appeal to them.

Whenever you look at them with a glint of fascination in your eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder:

Why were you so drawn to them?

When you fell asleep, he’d go back to the balcony and observe them, trying to discern the secrets they hid from him.

Was it the layout of their unique patterns? Or perhaps they held some sort of significance to you?

Either way, they were just some glowing dots, nothing more, nothing less.

He has been doing that for a long time now, years, maybe even. Yet, his mind was only filled with only hypotheses.

And hypothetical assumptions, were not the answers he was seeking for.

He would ask you, but his pride held him back from doing so. That’s how he was, the answers would be more satisfying if he was the one to discover them.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard you coughing uncontrollably. Immediately, he rushed toward you to help you sit up and gently patted your back.

“Easy there, dear, easy there.”

The worried frown on his face would only soften when your coughs died down a little, his tender pats turned into soft strokes.

“Are you alright?”

You coughed a little more before answering him, “Y-yea, I’m okay.”

This was not looking too good. It seemed like the medicine he gave you wasn't so effective anymore. He was worried, more than worried, in fact. Fearing that one day you would…

No. He mustn’t think like that. Despite your illness, he knew you were a strong person. His darling wouldn’t let some irritating pest of an illness to take over you just like that.

He knew. He believed in you, you’d wait for him until he found the solution.

“Zandik?” You called out.

He made a “hm” sound, letting you know that he heard you.

“Get in the bed and sleep with me, please?”

He smiled at you in response and nodded. As he did so, you tried your hardest to engrave the image of his winsome smile into your sea of memories, your mind was still hazy from waking up in the middle of the night.

He got into the bed with you and wrapped an arm around your feeble form, his hand rubbed against the scales that coated your arm. Treating you as if you were a fragile piece of paper that could break easily. Which in a way, you were.

The scales that Eleazar plagued on your body was a weird sensation, it made your skin feel numb. But it also made you feel like your body was being smoldered by an invisible flame, one that could not be extinguished easily.

In that moment however, in his arms you felt… normal. It was like you never had this illness to begin with, and all of that was only an illusory pain.

Safe, was what you felt as you listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat, guiding your tired mind away into a land of bliss…

---

The next day came and the sun made its way above the tall, icy mountains. Its soft rays of light embraced your body, causing your eyes to blink open. You expected to greet your lover but he was nowhere to be found, the other side of the bed was cold.

Huh, maybe he was busy today, you told yourself.

As you laid there, a soft knock came through your door and it was opened, revealing a segment of Dottore—Beta. He was holding a tray of freshly made breakfast as he made his way over to you, setting it onto the nightstand.

“Good morning, (Y/n)!” Beta greeted you with an enthusiastic voice.

You adored the segments, they were always so ecstatic to see you.

In return, you gave him a little grin and waved at him, saying a “good morning” to him, as well.

“As usual, I’ve made you your favorite! Pancakes with some fruits on the side!” He clasped his hands together, proud of himself that he was able to make you your meal.

You turned your head to the tray and woah, it looked really appetizing.

Without any hesitation, you went to grab the fork. But with how shaky your hands were, it slipped out of your grasp and hit the floor.

"Ah… I'm sorry," you said. Retracting your hands back to your side. You didn't remember being this tired from lifting your arm up….

"It's alright, darling. I brought a spare one just in case. How about I feed you instead?" Beta picked the fork up, switching to a cleaner one.

You were about to deny but stopped yourself when you saw how his face practically screamed please-let-me-feed-you.

Just like Prime, the segments loved to pamper you.

You chuckled and shook your head, giving him a gesture to do as he pleased. And just like you have guessed, he perked up and sat down on the side of the bed, feeding you pieces of sliced pancakes.

Like usual, the segments would take turns to keep you company. Theta told you about a story where he accidentally put too much spice into Prime’s food. Well, that explained why he came back holding his stomach that day. And Zeta was just there for you to cuddle as you took naps.

The only difference was you found out you weren’t able to stand on your own. As soon as you got up from the bed, your legs would become wobbly and cause you to lose your balance. Thankfully, Delta was there and he was able to help you get up.

You were about to fall asleep when you heard the door creaked, your eyes opened and was met with Zandik crouched down next to the bed facing you.

All the sleepiness you felt instantly disappeared when you saw him.

“I’m sorry, my dear. Did I wake you up?” He asked, stroking your cheek.

“No at all, I haven’t fallen asleep yet,” you replied. Relishing in the warmth his gloved hand gave off.

“Now that you’re back, why don’t we go stargazing together?” You were getting up, only for him to push you back on the mattress.

“My apologies, dove, but I need to get back to the lab in a bit. I’m only here to check on you. Delta reported to me that you weren’t able to stand today.”

Ah, so he heard.

“Yea… I guess my Eleazar has been taking a toll on me, lately.”

He leaned in and gave you a short but passionate peck your lips and held your hand.

“That’s what I’m here for, a cure will be made and you won’t have to suffer any longer.” He told you, but it was also a way to reassure himself that you would not be going anywhere.

“Please get some rest now, you need it,” he said, before getting up from his crouched position.

As he left for the door, you called out one last time, “Zandik.”

He stopped in his tracks, his head shifted a bit to your direction.

“Thank you…”

In response, he gave you a nod and headed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Unbeknownst to you, the moment you said that his heart dropped. You said it like you were going to leave him…

No. No, you wouldn’t leave him.

He would not let that happen.

He will find the cure no matter what.

---

It has been a few weeks now.

Day by day your Eleazar was getting worse, it was affecting you more than you had expected. You were getting weaker as the scales covered the majority of your body, almost immobilizing you. Breathing was starting to prove itself to be a challenge for you as well.

And he hated it. He absolutely hated how he wasn’t able to do anything.

He hated how useless he was.

“God damnit!”

He slammed his hand against the table as he let out a frustrated yell.

Another failure.

Why? Why wasn’t it working? It was going so well, but what stopped it?

He panted as he brushed his oily hair with his hand, ignoring the growl coming from his stomach for the fifth time today.

The thought of taking care of himself was shoved all the way back at the deepest part of his mind. How could he eat or shower when your life was on the line? There wasn’t a day where he’d stop worrying about your well being.

It was a race between him and the inexorable march of time before he lost you to that ridiculous Eleazar.

He must find the cure. He had to.

---

How long has it been since you've last seen him?

How long has it been since you've last seen his goofy grin?

How long has it been since the two of you were in each other's arms as you gazed at the stars together?

You didn't know.

All you knew was how agonizing the pain felt. You were thankful the segments were with you, some were holding you and the others tried their best to sooth you.

But at that very moment, all you wanted was just to see your lover again. You've missed him dearly and you knew his presence would make all the pain go away.

Oh, what you would do just to see him one last time…

Such a weird feeling. Where did all this fog come from? Amidst it, was a faint image of a smiling Zandik.

Ah, what a beautiful sight it was.

You were glad that you at least remembered that.

Where are you, Zandik? I wanted to see you again…

---

He was almost done, all he had to do was to—

"Doctor!"

A Fatui agent barged into the lab, panting.

Zandik turned to him and spoke with an irritated tone, "What is it? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"It's… It's (Y/n)—"

Upon hearing your name, he put both of his hands onto the agent's shoulders and squeezed it.

"What is it? What's wrong with them?"

"They… Um, they're…" The agent stumbled on his words, his voice was foreboding.

"Speak." Zandik got impatient.

"They're gone..."

…What?

No… No…

No, no, no, no.

He knew you were stronger than that.

What was this scumbag bluffing about?

Zandik's faces scrunched up in disgust and shoved the agent against the nearest wall, holding his collar.

"Do you think this is funny? Joking about my lover like that?" His voice dripped with venom.

"I-I swear, sir! I wouldn't dare joke about something like that!" He pleaded, scared of what the harbinger would do to him.

Zandik didn't trust him one bit. But just in case, he had to go check on you. He needed to make sure you were okay. He must know that you were still breathing.

He ran to where your room was and opened the door.

All he could see were his crying segments surrounding your bed. When they noticed Prime, they made way for him to get to you.

When the segments got out of his way, he laid his eyes on you. He saw your figure laying there. However, your chest wasn't moving.

Oh gods no, please tell him it was just his eyes playing tricks on him and you weren't actually…

He got closer to the bed and slightly nudged you.

"Darling…?"

But you didn't move.

And he nudged you again, a little bit harder this time.

"My dear, it's me. I know you're tired but open your eyes for a bit, hm?" His voice wavered.

And yet, your form remained still.

He laid his head against your chest and listened to your heartbeat, desperately hoping that you were just a heavy sleeper.

But there was nothing.

He couldn't hear anything.

For the very first time in a long time, he felt something wet dripping down his face as he held you close.

He cried, and cried, and cried and cried.

Feeling what little warmth he could feel from your icy body.

He was a man that could easily win every battle. But against time…

He had lost.

---

After your passing, he isolated himself in his laboratory. Running experiments upon experiments. He believed that he could bring you back to him; to chase after a tantalizing hope.

But just like finding the cure, he failed.

He failed way too much.

And it finally dawned on him that he would never get to see you again.

He was laying on a desk when someone knocked on his door. He didn't give a response but they invited themselves in anyway.

"Prime, I was cleaning the room when I found this on the nightstand." Delta spoke in a raspy voice, and put whatever that he was holding onto the desk.

He wasn't looking too good himself as well. His hair was a mess and eyes redder than usual.

Without saying anything more, he left Zandik alone.

He looked up from his lying position and saw an envelope, written on the cover were the words "To Zandik."

He recognized that handwriting somewhere… It was yours.

Picking it up and took the piece of paper out, it read:

To Zandik,

Hello, dear! I hope you've been taking good care of yourself.

By the time you read this I'm probably… not here anymore. But that's okay, I'm still always here with you! Maybe not physically, but spiritually I'm always there.

Knowing you, love, you're probably blaming yourself. But please don't, okay? It's not your fault and I'd hate to see you do that :(

I know that you're just a big goof that worries about me. It makes me happy to know that you cared so much about me, to the point where you'd do anything to find a cure.

I just wish I could've gazed at the stars with you one last time. But that's okay too, I'll wait for however long for you and we could do that again.

Speaking of, you're probably wondering… Why am I so drawn to them?

Surprised? I knew. I've always known. Every night whenever you think I was "asleep" you'd observe them. I love them not simply because of how pretty they are, but because of the moments I got to share with you.

With my Eleazar, it honestly feels painful. Whenever I'm looking at the stars with you, it'd somehow make me forget that I was in pain. All the worries are just… gone.

No matter what, I want you to know just how much I'm grateful to be with you, my crazy scientist <3

If you ever missed me, just look at the stars and I'll be there :)

I love you, Zandik.

-(Y/n) ♡

I love you…

As he read those words again and again, he clutched the piece of paper to his chest as he let his tears fall once more.

The things he'd do just to hear you say that to him again.

Were you hoping for him to be there to watch the stars with you?

Were you hoping to see him one last time, just like he was?

Too blinded by his desperation to find a cure for you, he missed his only chance to say goodbye…

---

Weeks passed and in his hands, he was holding a blanket, two hot drinks and a photo frame, all the while he was walking to your room.

It's been quite a while since he's been there. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself and opened the door.

The bed was covered in smooth sheets; the usually messy floor was now cleaned; the bookshelves were collecting dust.

Despite having been living here for the majority of his life, it felt like this was the first time he's been here.

He went to where the balcony was and sat down, putting the photo frame of you smiling on the floor close to him, along with a cup of your favorite drink in front of it.

He put his aside and wrapped the blanket around himself, making sure it covered the picture frame beside him as well.

He sipped on his hot chocolate as he gazed up at the starry sky.

There were so many of them decorating the void, and yet, if anything they made him feel alone.

And well, you weren't there to see them with him anymore. They weren't as enjoyable as they used to be.

However, out of every star, he noticed how there was an odd one out. It seemed to be flickering so intently.

A melancholic smile made its way to his face.

Was that perhaps you saying "hi" to him? You did say if he ever missed you, all he had to do was to look at the stars and you'd be there.

He couldn't help but wonder…

If he tried hard enough, would he be able to reach that star one day?

You were waiting for him, after all.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin x yn #dottore #genshin impact #dottore x reader #dottore x y/n #dottore x you #genshin dottore #il dottore #fatui #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers

356 notes · View notes