#pero tovar x female character

[mybworlds]

Beyond the Walls

Pairing: Pero Tovar x f!reader (no Y/N)

Summary: You are a princess, you should act like a proper damsel, but you are not and you don't want to be. Luckily, you have an ally on your side.

Warnings: use of you, typical sexism, the main character has female features, but I don't describe her in detail, the image is only meant to represent the moment, nothing else. Fighting against the conventions of the time, the main character wears both women's and men's clothes. Tovar in this story is the protagonist's bodyguard and a knight. Violence graphic.

A/N: Okay, here I am, I woke up with this new idea and here it is. I don't know if I should make it a one-shot or a miniseries, if you want and like please let me know, you know I appreciate your comments.

You run, you urge your horse to increase his pace, you have to lose him. You stop for a moment, but then you think again and decide to cross the fields.

You will do it quicker.

The farmers are not at all enthusiastic about it, some snort as you pass by, others curse you. You smile, you feel so free and light on Callus. Even today you will arrive before him, a triumphant grin bends your lips upwards, you reach and pass the walls surrounding the castle when suddenly he appears in front of you, cutting you off and making your faithful steed rear up.

“I won, Princesa” says your bodyguard giving you a smirk and dismounting from his horse.

“Oh, fuck, that’s not fair!” you blurt out, getting off your stud. “You cheated!”

“Never.” he answers you by taking the reins of his horse and leading it to the stables, you do the same “I went through the main road, you wanted to cheat by going through the fields and destroying all the work of those poor people.”

You laugh, “Please, let’s do it again.”

“Qué? Do you want to destroy the fields again, my lady?” he teases you coming out of the stables.

“Of course not, Pero.” you say “But, you know how I feel when I run, when I'm free to ride a horse, when I can practice swordsmanship with you, when I can be who I really am.” you add.

A few moments later, your mother joins you. Pero kneels, you nod and say “Mother”.

She sighs and shakes her head, “What have you done to yourself, my daughter? Dressed like that, your hair tied up, your face dirty.” She puts on a disgusted expression, “You are a princess and you are a woman. You have some duties to fulfill and you can't afford such obscenities. Dressed as a man!” She tsks “Now go upstairs, I’ve already had a bath prepared for you.”

“You know how I feel!” you reply to what she said. “I want to be free.”

“Daughter,” she uses an annoyed tone “you know that certain liberties are not granted and that only your husband will do this later.”

“I don’t want to get married!” you exclaim while your mother widens her eyes in complete astonishment at your words “I don’t want an old gentleman deciding for me! I am a woman, it's true, but that doesn't mean I want to deprive myself of my life, my choices, my dreams.”

For your mother these are just whims dictated by your age, but according to her you will soon change your mind and indeed you will be happy to marry someone powerful who can give you everything you want and then give yourself the freedom you talk so much about.

What Tovar thinks matters only to you, for everyone he is just your most faithful bodyguard, he is just someone who keeps you safe, who prevents the worst from happening to you, but for each other you are much more than just any princess and her protector. No one knows and it's okay.

For Tovar, you are the bravest person he has ever met and he has met all kinds of people, but no woman has your courage and when you hold a sword you assume that expression so focused and proud that he can't help but feel a deep pride swelling in his chest, when you ride you are absolutely free and you get that expression of absolute bliss and he feels so lucky to still be in this world to enjoy such a spectacle.

You two spend a lot of time together and it was he who offered you that breath you longed for, that freedom that no one else had granted you and for this you are always eternally grateful to him.

Tovar believes that you should be the one to choose what to do with your life, but he also understands that in your case it is not as simple as it seems. So when you confide in him, Pero avoids telling you things like do what you want and run away because he knows you would be capable of it. He offers you long horseback rides on the beach, teaches you how to shoot a bow, has taught you how to use a sword, and on more than one occasion you have gone to the village in disguise. And you loved every single moment of what Pero showed you.

If there was some discomfort at first, now you are fine together. You are so fine that one afternoon when you were out in the woods and you were completely soaked after an accidental fall, Pero offered you his cloak and to thank him you stood on tiptoe to kiss him. Pero was so surprised that he looked you in the eyes for a long time as if to understand if it had been a casual gesture or if you were aware of what you had done. No uncertainty or disturbance changed your gaze, you knew what you were doing.

You have never gone beyond that, although you do not want to submit to certain constraints or duties, you have always and in any case preserved your virtue.

You meet his gaze, sigh and then you go up the main staircase followed by your lady-in-waiting.

“Tovar,” your mother says to the man, “you are an excellent knight and a valuable asset to our house,” the woman continues, “however, I believe you are being too accommodating to her.” She smiles faintly at the knight “I hope you wish to return to those ranks you agreed to honor, but if it were too much for you to do and you couldn't get her to respect you, well, that would mean we would be forced to deprive ourselves of your presence.” the man swallows, the woman is his lord's wife and if he were to be chased away from there too, his wandering would begin again and perhaps something even worse would happen to him. He decides to bite his tongue and simply nods and with a nod of his head takes his leave.

Your maids are supposed to wash your hair, your face, your body, but you dismiss them, asking to be left alone.

You want to be free, you want it so bad. You take a deep breath and then go down into the tub full of rose petals. Everyone — your family — wants to remind you of who you are and where you belong, but your indomitable spirit won’t give up, not like this.

You emerge and decide to fight. You know you won't be alone. You can always count on Pero Tovar.

You dress in a cream-colored tunic, you are determined to go to him, but without wanting to, when you pass in front of the library, you glimpse a light and then hear footsteps: you stop and strain your ears, you open the door slightly and see one of your father's most trusted men and another man you've never seen before, They are apparently not doing anything wrong, but it's the manner and tone that you don't like. They have something in their hands, it's shiny and when you realize what it is, you jump, making a guttural noise that makes you step back and slam into a suit of armor worn long, long ago by your father.

The noise attracts the attention of the two and almost immediately they are at the door, you take another step back, “What are you waiting for?! Kill her!” shouts your father's advisor to the other who he points the gun at you.

Your eyes widen in shock, just then something whistles through the air, then something fast passes in front of you and this movement is followed by a cry of pain. Your attacker lost a hand, chopped off by an axe. You and the councilor turn and see Tovar standing at the beginning of the corridor, you take advantage of that moment of confusion to run to him and take refuge behind him.

Following this event, the castle seems to wake up all at once, excited voices seem to come from every corner.

“Come away, Princesa,” Tovar tells you trying to get you to walk away, but you stare at the other man and are about to tell him that you're going to tell your father what happened and that he won't get away with it, but then the unthinkable happens: two guards appear across the corridor and the counselor shouts “Get them, they were plottin’ something with this man and then they killed him.”

“That's not true!” you try to say, but you know the strong influence that man has on everyone, especially your father. He would be able to say anything and everyone would believe him.

“Run, Princesa, come!” Tovar shouts, dragging you down the stairs with him. You barely have time to leave the castle because they close the gates. When you're apart you look back and for the first time you realize that you're beyond the walls and you're wanted.

You don't know what will happen to your life, your future, your dreams, or your freedom, you just know that the only one who will always be by your side will be your tireless bodyguard, teacher and friend, Pero Tovar.

[sirowsky-stories]

For The Love Of A Grump

Summary: Pero reflects on how you made his birthday the best it possibly could've been.

Requested by @chaoticfestninja

Rating: General/Everyone Warnings: Pero Tovar x female reader, but told from Pero's pov. As always, my Pero has issues with self-worth, but this story is a positive one, focused on his perspective of being loved. Word Count: 900

   He’d asked you to keep it small, and you had. But you’d also made it enormous, somehow managing to incorporate the entire world into the intimate celebration, and for the life of him, he’s never known how you do those things.

   Dragging him out of bed first thing in the morning, almost before the sun had even risen, he’d grumbled at you, truly feeling upset that you hadn’t let him sleep in, or even wished him happy birthday before ordering him to get dressed and hauling him out to the car.

   The drive had been long and listening to your upbeat sing-along with your favorite pop music radio station, had eventually worn him down and made him laugh.    He’d never been able to resist your joyous energy and the way you seemed so unaffected by his general grumpiness.

   It was exactly what had eventually convinced him he’d already fallen for you, that day in the pouring rain two years ago, when he’d gotten angry with you for not even letting the autumn weather get to you. As if that could ever be a bad thing.

   That was the moment it had dawned on him, the only reason he would’ve been so upset was if he hadn’t wanted your positivity to infect him. But it already had, and he was already lost in it by then, craving it so badly it had frightened him into trying to scare you away.

   You’d been immune to his mood swings from the start, never backing down no matter how terribly he’d treated you, and so impossibly elated whenever he’d showed you even a hint of happiness, that your very skin had seemed to shine with your joy.

   He’d loved you long before he’d been able to understand it, but you’d known from the moment you’d met him, and you’d been determined to help him see it.

   He trusts you beyond all reason, which was why he’d kept his mouth shut that morning in the car, not letting himself gripe at you. He knows better. You had a plan, and whatever it was, he’d be stupid to interfere with it.

   The beach had been deserted that time in the morning, the ocean calm and pink in the first light of the day. Growing up far from the coast, he’d always been enchanted by the sea, drawn to it and calmed by it, so you’d brought him there to start the day off in the best possible way.

   Breakfast on a blanket in the sand, followed by soothing cuddles and soft kisses, while the waves had begun to gently roll against the land. You’d let him doze off in your arms, giving him back the desired sleep-in you’d robbed him of earlier.

   Getting back in car, you hadn’t brought him home, but instead taken him on a remembrance tour of your relationship, driving past all the places where you could recall something significant happening between you, and it had amazed him how much you’d held onto. Especially all the bad, which you somehow managed to see the positives of.

   The next stop had been his favorite lunch diner, where you’d made sure the staff had treated him to their birthday special, complete with a song and dance routine which had left him laughing with equal parts embarrassment and delight.

   But it was the afternoon which had really taken him to a sense of wonder, as you’d borrowed a pair of horses and taken him on a cross-country ride which had lasted until nightfall, over giant plains, mountains, rivers, and which had seen the two of you cook dinner over an open fire.

   And even though you’d been all alone, not seeing another person for the duration of the journey, the vast sky above you, as well as the wonder of the natural features you’d navigated, had spoken to his heart about the connectivity of all things. From the distant sun, to the little bird which had taken refuge on his shoulder, under the brim of his hat, to escape the afternoon heat for a minute.

   Out there, he had been reminded of how small he is, but at the same time, how wonderous it is that one little person could’ve found his soulmate at all, within this chaotic and artfully crafted world.

   The evening had been spent among the sheets, where you’d allowed him to show you every nuance of his affection and desire for you, and it was only when his strength had finally run out and he’d tugged you into his arms to feel your stubbornly stoic and unfathomably kind heart beat against his ribs, that you’d finally wished him a happy birthday.

   Because you’d known, the same way you always know these things, that he would only hear the truth of your words once you’d already expressed them in every other way possible.

   Not because he doesn’t believe what you say, but simply because that’s how little he thinks of himself.

   You are the only proof he’s ever had, that his life and existence has any meaning. He lives for you and the joy he somehow gives you by merely being there.

   And as he falls asleep with you safely tucked against him, he thinks that one day he might be able to deserve your love. If he keeps letting you guide him.

   If he keeps letting your unbridled positivity infect him.

   Forever.

THE END

[missredherring]

The Rain Still Falls

Pero Tovar x Fat F!Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.1k

Contents: angst or pining, idk.

Summary: The rain still falls and his heart still beats.

A/N: This is for @janaispunk 1500 kisses challenge!! My prompt was Pero Tovar + kissing in the rain. This is the first time I've written for Pero, so I hope it's good.

I was talking to @perotovar about the movie and we both agreed that Pero was in love with William. So, this is a bit of a love-lorn man getting back in the saddle and so vague about his relationship with the reader.

Moodboard by @janaispunk and divider by @saradika-graphics.

Not beat read; all mistakes are mine.

There was a time when he believed it was inevitable that his death would be by William’s side. 

The sun is beating on his back, soaking into the dark armor and surely cooking him alive.

William’s fate separated from Pero’s when he returned with their escort to the Nameless Order and their great wall after reaching the edge of their domain.

Could Pero have joined them and stayed as a soldier instead of a prisoner? As much as William’s choice stung, he knew in his gut that he didn’t belong amongst the finely-tuned machine of the Order. Pero would only be the mud that caked up the gears and stopped them from turning.

The siren call of power had lead him across the world and he endured everything the road could throw at them. Surviving as fate winnowed down their group with an indifferent hand. 

Maybe it’s a blessing that when he finally found the black powder, the ultimate weapon spoken about in speculative whispers, it only took his purpose and not his life or limbs. 

Pero would say that it had taken William from him as well, if he didn’t know that bastard had been swayed by his heart and nothing else.

It’s quiet now. Instead of the cacophony of armor, weapons, horses, and men that made up their escort, there’s only the creaking tack of two. 

His thoughts keep turning back and so Pero straightens his shoulders and lets his horse have his head, leading him further away from temptation. 

The smooth gait of his horse had rocked him into a stupor, and it takes a shout to bring him out from it. With a scowl he finally turns to you.

He expects you to needle him with your sharp tongue. To berate him maybe, for ignoring his remaining companion thus far. Pero feels his blood pound in his ears, excitement quickening in his chest, at the return to normal. He knows he can stand his ground in a fight of words with you, unlike the Tao Tei.

Instead you watch him with tired eyes and gesture to the nearby stream. His scowl deepens. He should’ve noticed it.

“Apologies, amiga. My mind has been wandering.” 

“It will catch up.” You say and dismount with a grunt. The axe strapped to your back catches the sunlight and blinds him. He blinks as his vision clears and takes in their surroundings.

The desert has only just given way; easing its grip and letting some green vegetation break up all the various shades of orange that had turned the world monochrome. The sun is high in the sky now, and clouds have come in from the west to bring shade and seconds of relief from the heat.

The stream is small but strong and you kneel at the bank and start scooping handfuls of water up to your mouth. It’s at this moment his brain chooses to join them, and it makes sure he notices how lush your wide bottom is as it tips up into the air when you lean forward for more. He digs out the water skins from the packs and drops down to the ground beside you.

Pero forgoes his hand and dunks his head in the stream, trading air for water in greedy mouthfuls. The water that drips down his face and neck is a balm for his heated skin as he turns over on his back with a sigh. The discomfort of his swords doesn’t even prompt him to move in that moment. 

After being in constant movement, whether riding or in battle, for so long this stillness feels strange. He can still feel the echoes of it in his muscles, in the fresh bruises and aching wounds.

Through a cracked eye he watches as you reach back and remove what he knows from experience is a heavy axe with ease, your muscles flexing with the action, before you stretch out next to him with a sigh. They’ll need to work on their fighting dynamic to compensate for losing William’s arrows, but he doesn’t want to think about that yet.

“They kept the magnet, so we don’t have a compass to guide our way.”

“I think it no longer matters which way we are going, Pero. I’ll find my own way and the adventures will continue,” You hum thoughtfully. “Did they keep your heart as well?”

"I cannot feel it, but I know my heart is here,” he says and then tries for a bit of levity. “My body keeps moving, hm?"

You shake with the force of your laugh, but it is a strangled thing and he is unsure if it is mirth or something else he hears ringing in it.

“It is easy to keep going without a heart, Pero. I’m better off without one; it’s foolish, after all.”

He snorts his agreement and reaches over to nudge your shoulder to remind you he’s there. Just like when you'd knocked your pillory into his. Because you were there, too. When William had run off to do the right thing and Pero’s plan failed, you had held your tongue and stayed by his side. “But it is necessary, I think. Life would be awfully boring without some foolishness.”

Drops hit his face and Pero opens his eyes to see that the clouds have become dark and swollen overhead. The sound of raindrops hitting leaves faster and faster drive them to sit up, but there is no true cover available, so they stay where they are. 

Pero takes your hand in his, his fingers touching the familiar callouses as if to check they’re where they should be and searches your face. The dark sky is reflected in your eyes. 

“If you would grant me the pleasure, I’d like to continue on with you. Maybe these adventures of yours would be better with a companion?” 

He sees the answer in the corner of your lips as you smile and nod at him. The steady rhythm in his chest is reassuring as he brings your knuckles to his mouth, the rain that gathers there wetting his cracked lips as he kisses them.

The moment lingers until mischief sharpens the corners of your smile. “On second thought, that might not be a good idea. Trouble seems to find you with ease, Pero Tovar.”

He chuckles and bares his teeth to nip at the thin skin of your knuckles. You make a fake sound of hurt and gather up the water skins to refill them, calling to the horses over your shoulder. 

William will handle whatever fate waits for him on the wall. You will live your life on your own terms, as you always have. Pero will see where his decisions take him, for better or worse.

The horses knicker to each other. The birds sing as they fly overhead. The water continues to run downstream.

The rain still falls and his heart still beats. 

[missyorkswhore]

Slooooow buuuuurn🔥

Ft.@umadosedepascal

[wardenparker]

Sassenach and the Spaniard - Epilogue

Pero Tovar x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Delirious with sickness and near to death, Pero Tovar finds himself on the doorstep of a village outsider who nurses him back to health just before the winter snows descend. With a black cat for company, a mask on her face, and a biting wit that intrigues him, Pero comes to find out that his new companion is more than what she seems.  ✨  Inspired and influenced by Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. ✨ Reader is described as disabled and having hair long enough to cover part of her face.  

Rating: Mature, but as always this blog is 18+ Word Count: 7.5k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this fic include cursing, food mentions, references to previous sexual assault (multiple characters).**  Apologies for the possibly dubious Spanish in this chapter, and a little suggestive dialogue up front, but no other warnings. Summary: The first people you and Pero meet in Spain come bearing remarkable and unexpected surprises. Notes: Immense thanks to all of you for following along with this little trip through time. It has been such immense fun to explore in two universes at once, and so gratifying to build a family that very literally stands the test of time. Every time we embark on a new story we take a chance by stepping into the unknown, and every time it’s wonderous to see how lovingly you all respond. 🧡💛✨

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14

Nine months was honestly less time than you thought it would take to get everything ready to move, especially with Beth and Will’s wedding planning underway. But their wedding was now an entire month ago, and you have unpacked every box in the ‘new’ Tovar farmhouse which is still well over a hundred years old. All of the amenities and utilities are up to date and the contractors had done an amazing job redoing the kitchen prior to your arrival, and Pero’s adventure in building permits and historical society red tape have led to some interesting situations in restoring the thousand-year-old farmhouse that he was born in.

First thing every morning - all four of them that you have been here for - he goes out to the old farmhouse and works from after breakfast until sundown clearing out all the many years’ worth of muck and build up in the place. It had been a barn for centuries, apparently, and then a storage shed, and there are stacks of things inside that require going through before Pero can start in on replacing the roof with an approved, historically-correct thatched one like it had when his parents lived there.

You have been setting up the main house room by room, with the bedroom and the bathrooms coming first, and today you’re tackling the kitchen. The fact that everything is unpacked just means you have towering piles of things on the countertops to find homes for, but you turn on the radio to a local station and get to work. If all goes well, you’ll have things put away and be able to make it into town for groceries to make Pero an actual home cooked dinner for the first time in your new home.

Pero opens the door to the kitchen, sweating and already in search of a drink. Stripping off the thick leather gloves, he walks directly to the refrigerator that he loves and opens the door to grab the carafe of cold water you have taken to keeping in there for him. “It is nearly cleaned out.” He grunts, looking around for a glass. You scolded him when he drank directly from the bottle, so he doesn’t do that anymore.

“Glasses are in the cabinet right next to the fridge,” you tell him, busy on the other side of the kitchen figuring out how to make all of your cookware fit in the open-air shelving. “That was fast, amor. Was it not as bad as we thought?”

“No, it’s bad.” Pero finds a glass and pours it full. Gulping down the liquid in great gulps that seem to echo in the still empty kitchen. “I will have to dig out the flooring— if it’s still there.”

“But the clutter will be out soon, which will be good.” Years of Tetris come in handy when trying to organize cabinets, and you slide the last pot into place before setting your cauldron on the shelf beneath it. The big, cast-iron pot was a gift from Pero and you have every intention of bringing magic back to this home as soon as possible.

“Disgusting.” Pero murmurs, a scowl on his face as he pours a smaller glass. “Using it as a fucking storage building.”

“It will be restored again soon.” You don’t care about sweat or warmth – Valencia’s summers are definitely warm – you wipe your hands and move across the room to hug him. “Your parents would be proud.”

“I hope so.” The area where his mamá had been buried was long since grown over, the plain markers gone. But Pero had cleaned the area up and has plans on marking it with a stone to remember his parents by.

“I’m sure of it.” You would certainly be proud if it was your son returning home after a thousand years to return his homestead to what it once was - you cannot imagine his own mamá is anything less as she looks down on him. “Do you want to walk down to the church later to light a candle for your parents?” According to what you had read, the current stone church in the village was built on the same foundation of the ancient one after it was destroyed sometime in the late Middle Ages, which means it won’t be the same church he was baptized in, but it’s in the same place. “It would be nice to make friends with the priest and see if he will let us look through the old records for your family.”

“Sí.” He knows they have caused a stir, returning and buying the land. But he doesn’t know if any from Arwena and Briac’s brood survived past bearing children or what became of them. It would be good to learn.

“In the meantime…” You give him a concerned look. “Is there anything I can do to help you? I don’t have to do the kitchen today. I can help you in the farmhouse if you want.” Bowie has been at his side all morning, but he isn’t much help with cleaning.

“You do not want to shovel shit and mud out from the house.” Pero shakes his head. “I appreciate it, amor.”

“I would do it if you asked me.” You would do anything he asked you. Even clean through shit and mud. “It’s not like I have a job to go to. I’m at your disposal.” Quitting that god awful office job had been so freeing that you had actually cried. Pure relief at being free to do whatever brought you joy has been a very odd feeling to adjust to.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “You do have a job, amor.” He corrects you. “Tinkering with your herbs and setting up your kitchen. That is your job today. Just like mine is going to be making you cum on that countertop when it is clear.”

“I think being a lady of leisure might suit me.” If a life of tinkering and witchcraft and sex is what it has in store? Yes, please.

Pero smirks, more of a leer as he winks at you. “Happy to provide your deepest wishes, amor.” He promises before he sets the glass in the sink. He still hasn’t gotten the hang of a dishwasher and is scared of breaking the delicate glasses in this time.

“You’ve been doing that since the very beginning, amor.” Leaning across the counter to kiss him again, you huff playfully when the knocker on the front door can be heard loud and clear. “Who could that be?” Whoever they are, they’ll be the first people you’ve met since getting here besides the previous owners of the small farm and your contractor.

“I don’t know.” Pero tenses, his hands automatically reaching for the knife that is always on his body unless he is naked with you. He has relaxed quite a bit since coming to this time, but he’s not sure if he will ever not be on guard when surprised. “Do you wish for me to open the door?”

“I’ll get it. Don’t worry.” Any gossip that’s gotten around will say that the newcomers are from America, so you figure you might as well give the people what they’re so curious about.

Pero moves with you, not trusting anyone who calls unannounced so he will be a hulking shadow behind you. A warning to not try anything with his soulmate.

Neither of you is expecting the heart attack that is waiting for you on your doorstep. At the end of the stone path lined by flowers that leads to your little house, right at your front door when you pull it open, stands a cheerful young couple with a covered platter in their hands and curious smiles on their faces. But more remarkable than anything else is the young woman...who is the spitting image of Arwena Tovar. It's all you can do not to exclaim when you open the door, realizing it isn't actually her only by her height - she is a full six inches taller than Arwena, if your memory of the petite girl serves correctly. "I—um—" Shake it off, you tell yourself, realizing you're staring. "Hola." When you can finally get a single word out, more mercifully following. "Qué tal?" Hi. How are you?

Instantly, Pero knows this woman is related to your family. “Mierda.” He whispers, making the stranger’s eyes flicker to him before she offers a friendly smile.

Alana Tovar nods politely. “Buenos días. Queríamos darle la bienvenida a nuestro humilde barrio.” Good day. We wanted to welcome you to our humble neighborhood. If she is shocked to see an American – she can tell by the accent – she doesn’t show it.

"Gracias, gracias..." You feel like you can barely keep your eyes in your head, but you step back and wave the young couple inside as politely and happily as you can. "Entrasteis, por favor. Vos gustaríais una bebida?" Come inside, please. Would you like a drink?

Alana turns to Jorge and nods when he gives a small nod himself. “Sí.” She murmurs before she offers the platter in her hand to you. “Para usted.” For you.

"We speak English." The gangly young man who steps in after the woman offers you and Pero a lopsided smile. Through his thick accent, he sounds almost like sunshine. Chipper, yes, but also warm.

“Then we will speak English.” Pero murmurs, introducing you first. “My wife, and I am Pero Tovar.” He waves them both towards the chairs you had insisted needed to be in the kitchen and starts clearing off the space in front of them.

“Tovar?” The young woman seems to move as gently as a tree bending in the wind. Clutching the platter still in her hands, she stops halfway to the seat she is being offered and sways on the spot. “I am Alana Tovar.” She introduces herself, obviously surprised by the shared name. “This is my partner, Jorge Reyes. We live just across the street.”

Pero nods, already knowing that she must be related due to her looking so much like her ancestor. “Are you from this area?” He asks, looking over at her curiously. It’s amazing the small differences now that she’s closer, but she could be Arwena’s sister.

“Sí.” Alana nods as Jorge takes the platter from her hands and sets it down on the counter. “My family has always lived here. Please…this is for you. A coca de llanda with orange. It is a family recipe…you would call it a kind of cake, I think?”

Just from the name of the cake, Pero’s eyes light up. “It sounds delicious.” Pero tells her immediately. “We must have some. With our drinks. Tea, or coffee?” Coffee has become a beloved drink for Pero despite your love of tea, so there is always both. “We do have ale, too.”

"It is best with coffee." Jorge chimes in, rubbing Alana's shoulders in an act of both pride and encouragement. The young man eyes your Nespresso machine happily, seeing that it is already set up on the counter while you reach into the cabinet above it to retrieve a few cups and plates. "We are curious," he begins, almost like he's unsure if he should ask. "We heard that the people buying the farm were family. But Alana did not know she had any family in the United States."

"Until recently, I did not know I had any family in Spain," you explain, wondering exactly how to tiptoe around the topic. "Of course, my husband was born here."

Pero is ready for the questions, feeling the eyes shift to him. “My family moved around quite a bit when I was younger.” He tells them as if his parents weren’t buried in this very earth less than three hundred yards away. “I have heard stories of family but never met anyone.”

"You are...both Tovars?" Alana has set about cutting slices of the delicious looking cake after you pulled out a knife and forks to go with the plates, but pauses to look between you and Pero.

"Sort of?" Setting up a little assembly line at the Nespresso machine, you start to make drinks for everyone. "We are both descended from the Tovar clan very distantly. Many generations back, we each branched off from the main family tree. I was not born a Tovar at all."

Pero chuckles, wondering what they would say if they knew he was the patriarch of the family and yet not related by blood at all. You are— but that is a different story. “We did not know of the connection when we met.” He explains. “We were just…almas gemelas.” Soulmates.

“So are we.” Jorge boasts, placing his hands on Alana’s shoulders again and puffing up his chest proudly. “I knew the second I saw her. Like…like a fairy tale, no?”

“It is.” Pero grins at you, well aware that your story could be a movie thing that you love making him watch. “The Sassenach and the Spaniard.” He teases, reaching out and squeezing your hip.

"Sassenach?" Alana asks, recognizing the word from her favourite American television show but not knowing why he has said it.

Pero rolls his eyes over to you, smirking. “It means outsider.” He explains. “She called herself that when we met. After insulting me and sparking my interest with her witch’s tongue.”

"He also calls me bruja," you volunteer, laughing about it slightly as you pass out demi cups of espresso. A part of you is curious about just how many witches are even in your family line, but you pass it off as a joke for now. There's no use in raising alarm bells with your neighbors and far-flung cousin right off the bat.

Alana nods knowingly. “If you are a Tovar, that is a part of your charm.” She chuckles. “We come from a long line of brujas, though most of the knowledge is lost.”

"Are you—?" Not expecting her to be so forthcoming, you must look as shocked as you are excited. "Do you...practice magic?"

Jorge’s smile turns a little defensive, a move Pero recognizes instantly. He is not magical, but he is protective of his soulmate. He understands it, even today there is a stigma.

“I have managed to—”

“Cielo.” Jorge whispers, shaking his head warily. You are strangers after all, even if you are distantly related.

"It's okay." You promise him, realizing that there are plenty of people in the world who would judge Alana for the gift she has inherited. From under your shirt, you pull a necklace that bears a pendant with the symbol of the triple goddess stamped in pewter and show it to the younger couple. "I have practiced for a very long time." That is an odd sort of understatement. "You have nothing to fear from us, I promise."

Alana reaches over and lays her hand on top of Jorge’s. “I have a feeling about them.” She promises her soulmate, giving him a look that said more than what her words could.

“We both practice.” Pero offers, although he does not wear the pendant you do. “What is a soulmate bond if not magic? Anyone who will judge for having more is simply stupid.”

"Actually, I have something you might be interested in." Glancing back at Pero, he gives you a nod before stepping aside, knowing what you intend to show this new girl. She reminds the two of you so much of Arwena that he understands your eagerness to share with her, even if he would probably be more guarded by himself. "Not all of our family's knowledge has been lost. And my Spanish is not good enough to be able to read everything in this book. Pero has read through things with me, but you might, well..." You shrug, producing a large box from the cabinet beneath the open shelves where you had been storing cookware not twenty minutes ago. "This belonged to my grandmother, and she left it to me."

The gasp Alana let’s is overshadowed by the sound of breaking porcelain. “Mierda!” She hisses, jumping up from where she had dropped her coffee cup and shattered it on the ground. “I am so sorry! perdóname!” Forgive me!

"Está bien. Calmate." It's okay. Take it easy. Though you hadn't necessarily expected that big of a reaction, you can absolutely understand it. Pero jumps forward to clean up the broken cup and you put your hand on Alana's arm in reassurance. "I do not believe in coincidences anymore," you tell her and Jorge honestly. "Everything that has happened in my life has happened for a reason. So perhaps one of the reasons I have this is to be able to share it with you."

“I have—that book.” Alana is emotional and nearly tearing up. “I have heard stories about the book my entire life.” She explains. “My mother told me that the book was not shared anymore because one side of the family traveled away. But that it would come home someday.”

"I looked into my ancestry." The grimoire is heavy and delicate, but you lift it from the box and set it on the clear counter with care. "My branch of the family left Spain hundreds of years ago and has traveled extensively. So there is more than just English and Spanish written here, but...it is all our family."

“You did not keep the Tovar name?” She asks, curious as to how your ancestors worked. “On my side, there is a tradition if it was the last daughter, the soulmate would take the name Tovar.” She tilts her head. “Although your family kept the tradition of naming a girl after the original soulmates.” She hums turning Pero. “As did your parents. There is a generation of boys and girls with your names in our family for as long as I can remember. I was upset as a little girl that my sister had your name.” She gives a quiet laugh and shrugs. “But Alana suits me.”

“A—a tradition?” Trying not to seem overly gobsmacked, you can’t help the wonder in your eyes as you reach for Pero’s hand and hold on tight. “I had no idea…” How could you be so entirely clueless as to these traditions and yet be at the very center of them? There are swaths of boys and girls in your family named after you and Pero and yet you had no clue. “My mother kept me entirely separate from our family. She…she believes magic is dangerous. But I think it is a miracle.”

“She must have believed at some point.” Alana’s heart hurts at the idea of being kept separate from her family and she reaches out to clasp your hand over the cover of the grimoire. “Otherwise you would not bear our ancestor’s name. The stories say she was a powerful bruja. Her and her soulmate.” She bites her lip. “I have the history of our family, the ones who stayed in Spain – if you would like to see it.”

“Oh yes.” Nodding immediately, you place your other hand on hers and squeeze gently. Reassuringly. “We would love to see that. A-and…to hear the stories? If you know them?”

Jorge chuckles, making Alana fluster. “My soulmate loves collecting stories about the family.” He promises, reaching over and rubbing her shoulder affectionately. “She will talk about it all day.”

“We would love to hear them,” you promise her, water rising slightly behind your eyes as you look up at Pero. To think that Arwena and Briac founded an entire family line – a proud one that still exists in multiple forms to this day – is both mind boggling and somehow unsurprising. As if their love had reached through time and twined your family together all on its own. “Any time you would like to come over and look through the book and tell stories. Please…we are family.”

“I was curious and happy when I leaned a Tovar had purchased the property.” Alana admits with a smile. “We had wished we had been able to afford it, but this better.”

“We were meant to be brought together; I think.” She truly looks so much like Arwena that you just want to reach out and hug her, but that intimacy must be built first. Something tells you it will not take long, but it is still best to give it time. “I will make another coffee and we can sit together? Share stories? The grimoire has many of them. And perhaps if we sit long enough our cat will come out of hiding to say hello.”

“Cat?” Alana perks up and smiles. “Have you found another one? There are so many running around the properties.”

“We found a few living in the old farmhouse.” It had not thrilled Pero at the time, but a stray black cat is a thing close to your heart so he had just huffed and shooed them out - only to put water and food out for them by your back door later on. “We also brought our cat from the US. Bowie is around here somewhere.” Probably mousing, as he has already discovered plenty of prey to chase. Or else exploring his new home.

“We have always found black cats around the property. My abuela said that the familiar of your namesake became her daughter’s and they are all descendant from her. Binx.” Alana chuckles. “My own cat is named Binx.”

“They’re all from Binx?” The few seconds you take to steady yourself while reaching for a new cup and saucer from the cupboard isn’t nearly enough, but it allows you to share a loaded glance with Pero. “The original soulmates…” you ask when you turn back around. “Do the stories say what powers they had?”

“She had the power of fire, healing.” Alana smiles dreamily. “She saved Pero’s life. He was a warrior and fiercely protective over his bruja when he learned who she was to him.” It’s a story that is often told at family gatherings like weddings, so she is very familiar with her favorite love story. “He was different. He had no magic before her, but he learned. He could move things through the air. And—” She gives a small laugh. “You will say it is crazy, but the legend says they could travel through time.”

“Oh my god…” This time it’s you who drops the dainty cup from your hand, but it clatters onto the counter with no harm done as you reach for Pero beside you.

“Did you— have you heard a version of this?” She asks excitedly, leaning forward with hope shining in her eyes. “Isn’t it romantic? The story my abuela told me was that Pero learned magic so he could follow her. She was sick – unable to be healed and went to a time where she could be saved and he followed when he learned how.” She sighs softly and reaches for Jorge’s hand. “The story is told every time someone gets married in our family.”

“Every time?” You look up at Pero in wonder, wrapping your arms around him before looking back at Alana. “Do the stories say what time she traveled to? By any chance?”

Pero crushes you to him, overwhelmed by the realization that the two of you have been immortalized into this family’s legends. Stories are told to little ones, much like he had been told as a child. His breath catches and he blinks several times, his eyes wet. The two of you may have never had children together, but you are the matriarch of generations.

“That part gets complex.” Alana huffs. “No one can decide. Some say they lived in the 20’s but I believe they must have still be yet to come. How else would she be able to be saved if not for modern or future medicine?”

“I suppose it depends on what she was sick with.” The way you and Pero are holding on to each other is like you’re clinging to a lifesaver in the middle of the ocean. “But that is…it’s not so unbelievable, is it? If magic is real, then surely anything is possible?”

Alana contemplates that and nods. “You are right. I wish I could know what it was like, what they were like. It must have been amazing.”

“I think it must have been very scary.” Terrifying, in fact, but you don’t know how these two sweet young people would react to knowing that it’s you they have been hearing about for so long. “Imagine being stuck out of your own time like that.”

“So you think that it is true? That she was a time traveler?” Alana smiles happily, having been met with disbelief if she talked about it with people outside the family. “Then if he followed her, he would be outside of his own time.”

“Yes…he would.” You look up at Pero again and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “And think how happy he would be to come home again.”

It takes her a moment. A long pause as Alana thinks about your words before there is a small, but poignant inhale from the younger woman. Her eyes are bright and shiny, and she nods knowingly. “Yes, I think that it is beautiful.”

“It would be nice if it could happen.” Jorge concedes, shifting in his seat beside his soulmate. He sees the happiness in her eyes but knows how attached to the love story of her ancestors she is. “But I would be overwhelmed, I think, if I were him. A whole modern world? Qué terrible.” How terrible.

“It is not that bad.” Pero huffs under his breath. “This time has indoor plumbing and ice cream.”

It takes a second, but Jorge’s eyes slowly move up to Pero’s in shock. “You mean…?” He croaks, fingers digging into Alana’s shoulders. “Dios mio, it’s true?”

The cat seems to be out of the bag, so Pero sees no harm in admitting it. He turns towards you, his frown would seem harsh if it weren’t for the softness in his eyes. “I would have torn time apart to be with my bruja again.”

“Te amo.” The words are soft in spite of your fierce pride in him, and you angle your chin up to kiss him before turning back to Alana and Jorge. “If you require proof, I understand.” Honestly, it would be insane for them not to. “The box on the end of the counter? That is my handwriting on the outside. Compare it to the first dozen-ish pages of the grimoire.”

“It is—” Alana nearly leaps off her seat at the counter to compare the writing. Not because she doesn’t believe you, but because she wants to.

Jorge is half a breath behind her, dragging over the box bearing your list of items inside written neatly on one of the flaps. It was how you kept organized during packing. “It is identical…”

Pero hums, knowing that they will want to see proof that he is who he says he is, so he turns and walks out of the kitchen, making his way to the safe that contains the clothes that you and he arrived in this time in.

“It’s true that he saved my life.” You tell the younger couple as Pero makes his way to the basement to retrieve his proof. “When I arrived at the hospital in this time, the doctors said another day or two might have been too long.”

“Is it true that he could not come with you? That he had to learn magic to follow you here?” Completely enthralled, Alana has a million questions for you. “I— this is rude, no? Asking you this? You do not have to answer if you wish.”

"It's okay." It's actually a relief, in some odd way. To meet family that you can share this part of your life with. To be connected to Arwena and Briac again, even a thousand years apart. "You can ask. If I'm able to answer, I will." The slices of cake and cups of coffee sitting on the counter have been neglected but you pick up your fork, deciding that food and drink makes everything a little more palatable. Socially, at least. "Yes, it's true that he had to learn magic to follow me. He spent a year learning before he traveled back to the Stones to follow me through history."

“Oh my god, it’s true.” Alana squeals, clearly overjoyed to learn that the stories that she had heard growing up were true. “I— how long has he been here? How long were you there?”

"I was there for eight years." Your first bite of Alana's torta is shatteringly good, and you muffle a groan while you chew. If this is a family recipe, you want to go back to whoever made it first and thank them personally. "He's been here for...almost a year now. Alana, this torta is amazing."

She beams, smiling happily under your praise and picking up the newly made coffee to take the first sip. “I will have to give you the recipe, unless you created it too?”

"No, your baking is far better than mine." Although you will definitely do your best to replicate this one. It's sensational. "Sugar still hadn't come to Europe then. Pero's discovery of sugar and chocolate has been a lot of fun for him."

“It is the best.” He groans as he comes into the kitchen again, the clothes and armor on his body rather than just showing them. “But I am getting fat.” There had been a snugness to his armor that wasn’t there before.

"I have a feeling that fixing up the old farmhouse will be plenty of exercise." Still, you can't help but smile at the sight of him in his armour. The lopsided expression on your face is both fond and soft. "There's my mercenary."

Pero turns towards the couple and sees their eyes widen. “This is what I am used to wearing. Spending my days on a horse and fighting for coins.”

"Increíble..." Jorge stands from his seat, jaw nearly on the ground as he gravitates closer to Pero with an eye toward inspecting his armor. "Like you just stepped out of a movie..."

“Movie. Yes, I know what that is.” Pero nods, nodding towards the man to let him touch the armor. “This is real, that – the strategy is shit in those movies. No one risks their ass like they show in them.”

"That's how he looked when he dropped off his horse onto my doorstep, near dead with tuberculosis." You tell Alana, shaking your head with the kind of fondness that only time and distance can give a memory. "We saved each other. First him, and then me."

“How did he save you?” Jorge questions, looking up from the armor before he rolls his eyes at himself. “Of course. He sent you back. How did he do that without magic? How did you travel through time?” That has been his burning question whenever Alana would talk about it.

"This is going to sound ludicrous." Telling the story from the outside really does feel a bit crazy, but you shrug slightly when Alana and Jorge both look at you expectantly. "But have you ever seen the show Outlander? Or read the books?"

“Don’t—” Alana gasps, covering her mouth and shaking her head in disbelief. “Do not tell me that is real!” She all but squeaks out her comment and Jorge laughs.

“She loves Outlander.” He confides. “Thinks the Jamey guy is…hot.”

"Last October I went to Inverness with my best friend to see the Stones at Craigh na Dun." You can't help but laugh, realizing in retrospect how silly the whole thing sounds. "I was gone for eight years, but to my friend it was only a few minutes."

“A few minutes…” Jorge shakes his head. Alana looks just as dumbfounded. “This is amazing.”

"And I will never regret it, because it led me to Pero." His hand reaches for yours at the same time you put your hand out to him and you link your fingers together tightly. "But I cannot safely say that anyone should ever try to travel through the Stones. You have no idea when you will arrive in time and when you get to wherever it is you are sent, you could be in immediate and very grave danger. It is...more than I bargained for. I'm just lucky that it turned out well for me."

“If it is not too rude…” Alana twists her hands together. “Is that why— your scar. Did you have it before you went back?” She asks, wondering if it’s a sensitive topic for you. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

"I got it while I was there." You nod slightly, fingers tangled in Pero's tightening slightly. "Before I met Pero. There was...a man that thought he could take advantage of me. He was very wrong."

“Bastard.” One thousand years dead and it still would not be enough for Pero. If he could be certain where the man’s grave was, he would piss on it. “My bruja managed to defend herself, and give me a scar that made me even more fearsome on the battlefield.” He sounds proud because he is proud of you.

"An example of why I would never recommend that anyone travel through the Stones." Beyond the scar and the loss of sight aside, the assault that you had endured was reason enough to caution anyone and everyone against putting themselves in that position. "Best to stay safe, well-fed, and cared for on this side of the timeline."

“I am so sorry.” Alana murmurs, looking horrified by the idea that someone would hurt you. “Hopefully he got his just rewards.”

“He got what he deserved.” You nod solemnly, looking back to Pero. “My husband made sure of that.”

There is a moment where Alana and Jorge just stare at Pero, in awe of what he must have done to put the terrifying look of grim satisfaction on his face. Alana ducks her head. “I am sorry for bringing up painful memories. My – curiosidad – it gets the best of me.”

“Things are better now.” You put one hand softly on Alana’s shoulder and offer her a smile. “To be able to return here, and to see what our family has become? That is worth everything.”

Jorge frowns. “Wait…if you were only there for eight years…did you leave your children behind?” He asks, confused about how they can be Tovars and still have created this legacy in such a short time.

“Your ancestors are a young couple named Arwena and Briac.” If Alana knows so much family history, she may already know this, but you tell her anyway. “They were soulmates, and Wena’s father forbade them from being together. But…we helped them. Briac learned to wield a sword and farm the land from Pero, and I taught Wena to read and write and wield magic. They…became our children, without ever any intention of the thing. When the night came that they needed to run away together, we packed up and left the village with them. From then on, we were a family.” Talking about them brings a wave of nostalgia you hadn’t been expecting and you wipe a tear from your eye. “You look exactly like her,” you tell Alana. “I knew you had to be family the second I saw you.”

“I do?” Alana very nearly tears up at the idea and reaches up to touch her own face. “Is that why you looked shocked when you opened the door? I look like the original Arwena Tovar?”

“You’re taller, but that’s the only real difference.” It’s sweet, how dearly Alana seems to take that fact to heart, and you nod. “It’s probably why I felt we could tell you all of this so easily. You just…you look so much like her I couldn’t imagine that that could have happened by accident.”

“I promise this will not be a tale that I spread.” Alana assures you, not wanting you to be wary of her spreading your story and perhaps having people look at you as if you are crazy.

“Thank you.” You didn’t think that she would, but it’s nice to hear the confirmation aloud. “I am, actually, your distant cousin,” you explain. “I’m also descended from Arwena and Briac. Just…a different branch of the family.”

“The side that apparently went to America.” Alana shakes her head, amazed at how the family has branched. “It’s amazing. A paradox. You are the matriarch and yet you are the descendant.”

“I don’t quite understand it myself.” It’s all too grand and smacks of too much consequence, and every time you think about it too much you reach a point where you start to get wrapped up in it like it’s the plot of a fantasy novel instead of your actual life. “But…all of it led me to Pero. And that’s more than I ever could have asked for.”

“I cannot believe that your soulmate is from a different time than you.” Jorge exclaims, unable to deny that is what you are because of the matching scars over your eyes.

“We usually say that we met while I was on that vacation in Scotland.” Pero chuckles into his sip of espresso when you say it and you shrug slightly. “It’s not like we can tell most people what really happened.”

“She tells people I am…” Pero looks to you when he cannot remember the word. “Antisocial.” He huffs, smug that he remembered it.

Alana and Jorge choke on this revelation for a minute before busting out in a fit of smothered laughter that makes even you giggle. “It’s true, amor. You are most of the time. But you love your family.”

“I do not trust anyone but family.” He corrects, frowning at your judgement of his character.

“Social expectations have changed in a thousand years, that’s all.” Alana points out. “And being able to trust your family is not always automatic. We are lucky to be able to trust each other so quickly.”

“I do not understand why.” Pero shakes his head. “Family should be the ones that you trust most. They are…family.”

You know he’s right, in many ways, but explaining to him that your mother would never accept the truth about who he is and when he is from – that she would probably try to have both of you committed if you told her the truth – had been a very long conversation. Of course he trusted you to know best, but he didn’t like the idea that you could not fully trust your parents to support you.

Pero moves over towards you and his hands slip around your waist, his lips kissing the juncture of your neck and shoulder softly. “I will change back.”

“Be comfortable, amor.” You nod slightly, knowing he will feel the movement next to his head. “I know that tunic cannot be more comfortable than your t-shirts. My sewing was never that good.”

He chuckles quietly and can’t deny that modern clothes are more comfortable. Less itchy than the ones from his time. “I will be back.”

“So what about you two?” Turning back to Alana and Jorge, you feel the slight loss of no longer having Pero at your side, knowing he will be back quickly. Taking off armor never takes as long as putting it on. “What do you do? How did you meet?”

Jorge smirks, his own pride for his soulmate evident on his face. “University.” He explains. “We were taking a class together.”

“I still do not know how we managed to pass,” Alana laughs, sending him a gentle, fond smile. “We did not exactly study.”

“It is not an exciting story, but it was almost as if we knew right away.” Jorge boasts. “The connection, I mean. It – it is beautiful.”

“Every love story is exciting in its own way.” And really, yours is not for everyone. “It is a new beginning. The start of a life together. That is its own kind of adventure.”

“How is he handling it?” Jorge asks, imagining that despite the advantages of this time, the other man must be having moments where he struggles to understand the world he lives in now.

“There are always new challenges,” you admit, wishing as always that you could simply smooth the path that Pero walks in this time. But you know you cannot do everything for him, and he doesn’t want you to. That doesn’t stop you from wishing you could take away the things that make him unhappy. “It will do him good to have friends here. Family. People he can be his true self with. And…more than anything, I think coming home again will be good for him. The barn out there? Or, what is now a barn? That is the house he was born in.”

"That was the house?" Alana's eyes go comically wide, and she whips her head to the side to look out the window that overlooks the stone structure. "That is – it is a thousand years old and is the house that your soulmate was born in? The one where Arwena and Briac lived and raised their children in?"

“Yes.” You can’t help but chuckle a little at how excited all of this makes her, and you’ll admit that a good portion of it is some kind of relief. It had been a worry of yours that making friends here might be difficult – but clearly the opposite was destined to be true.

"That is – wow – amazing." She lets out a chirp of happiness and looks back out the window again. "He has been working out there. Is he – will he turn it back into what he knew it as?"

“He even applied for the permits we need to restore the thatched roof and stone floor.” It is a particular point of pride for you, that Pero is working so hard to restore his childhood home. He’s working so hard and you could not be happier for him.

"Wow." Now it is Jorge's turn to be impressed and he nods. "I will ask if he needs help." He decides, looking eager at the prospect of learning techniques from a thousand years ago. "It would be beautiful to see a perfect example of how a home from that time would be set up."

“Jorge studied architecture.” Alana tells you, her own pride evident in her voice. “You should see the castles he designs and builds for Binx. They are spectacular.”

“You build castles?” Pero steps back into the kitchen, his brow arched high, and he is very interested in the other man’s skills. The fireplace in the old home has been removed and he wants to rebuild it. “They are still being used in this time?”

“For our cat.” Jorge laughs, slightly embarrassed at the mix-up. “Towers for her to climb and scratch shaped like castles. But I build other things. And design them.”

“Alana was saying that Jorge studied architecture,” you explain.

“And I am a builder.” The younger man nods. “Whatever help you need in restoring your home, it would be an honor to help you.”

Pero rubs his jaw, nodding to himself slightly. “I need to rebuild the hearth.” He tells the younger man. “Some bastard ripped it out and boarded over it. Do you want to look?” He offers, knowing that someone who builds for a living might be a good thing since the bastards to tell you what you can and cannot do with your own property have pissed him off several times.

“Absolutely.” Jorge nods and drops a kiss on the top of Alana’s head before hopping off of his stool at the kitchen counter.

“I’m going to show Alana the grimoire,” you tell them, glad to see Pero making a friend so easily. You’re certainly not going to get in the way of it, especially not when Jorge is practically family. “Come in when you get hungry and maybe we can share supper together tonight?”

Pero nods and moves over to kiss you again. “Do you wish for me to start the fire outside?” He asks, knowing that he had planned on roasting some meat you had bought from the grocery store. While it was not the same as wild game, it was still delicious. “Or do you wish to do something else?”

“No, we can cook outside.” One kiss is never enough, and you steal another easily. “We have plenty enough for four, and we can show Alana and Jorge how we used to do things. It will be perfect.” To not have to hide, or to lie, or to pretend at all is a great gift that you did not think you would ever be given in this part of your life. But as always, as if some wonderful force of the universe is looking out for you – you have gotten the blessing that you needed in spite of undertaking something scary. Whatever else comes during your life in Spain, you have Pero at your side and family to spend time with. There is nothing more you could want.

______

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[sirowsky]

Collision Masterlist

The series that wasn't supposed to exist, but here it is.

Description: Pero Tovar x Original Female Character Nikita. This story is told entirely from Pero's point of view, and centers around his relationship to a female colleague of his. He has never wanted a more than physical relationship with her, but when her life is threatened and he ends up unintentionally learning more about her, that boundary begins to blur.

Warnings: This is a thriller-series, so expect descriptions of violence, death, and plenty of angst. Also, there's a pregnancy, severe injuries that require surgery (not related to the pregnancy), plentiful cursing, a conspiracy, a character suffering from PTSD/PTSS, and some smut. Lastly, Pero has a criminal history and was bullied as a child.

Overall, my writing is 18+ONLY and this is no exception.

I'm friendly and kind so anyone who has questions or thoughts on this is welcome to reach out however you want to. I appreciate reblogs, and I love to hear what readers react to or find interesting about my stories, however, ALL readers are dear to my heart and I will refer to you as my loves!

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Part 1 - Who is she? Part 2 - We need a truck. Part 3 - It's a conspiracy. Part 4 - What is love? Part 5 - Everything I do. Part 6 - Mr. Hood. Part 7 - Stay or go? Part 8 - The Big Problems. Part 9 - I do it for her.

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FYI: Each chapter has a name here on the Masterlist, but not on the individual chapter pages.

[supernaturalgirl20]

Gagging

Pairings: Pero Tovar x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, infidelity, cursing, hair pulling, breeding kink.

Gods, this wasn’t supposed to happen again. It was just a one time thing to relieve some pent up energy from the stress of battling the Tao Tai.

That’s what you both agreed to, right?

And yet here you are again at the mercy of this grumpy sellsword, with hands gripping your hips tight as he pounds into you from behind.

This man.

This sourly, hot headed, dirty, barely able to contain his disdain for you man has you practically screaming his name into the night as he brings you to new heights with his cock.

You moan and mewl and cry out his name like a fucking prayer as he grunts behind you. “Oh gods…oh fuck….Pero, yes….right there…oh gods don’t stop…”

“Mierda! Hermosa, you…you have to be quiet…fuck, so fucking wet…so tight….they’re going to hear you…hear how good I fuck you.” Oh fuck, the way he was he was talking - breathless and strained - had you on the verge of coming again for the third time.

This was a whole new experience for you. No man had ever given you pleasure like this. No man had ever cared. But Pero, oh Pero cared and the more you moaned, the more he thrust into you, encouraged by the noises escaping your mouth.

His hand caresses your skin as it slides over your plump ass and up your back, pushing on your shoulders until your face is buried into the bed.

“Te amo, mi hermosa flor. Si sobrevivimos a esto, te haré mi esposa.” I love you my beautiful flower. Someday, I’m going to make you my wife.

This angle. Fuck.

Gods you can feel him, so deep inside you, hitting that spot over and over that you cry out. “Pero.” You cry out so loudly that William has called through the door to ask if you're ok?

Pero’s thrusts halt abruptly and you turn your head in question. Your gaze lingering on his torso, taking in the toned muscles of his stomach and the sheen of sweat that now covers them, his hair a tousled mess.

“Pero? What are you…” He’s rummaging around for something - all the while still buried inside you - and when he finds what he’s looking for, he turns his gaze back to you with a growl. He grabs onto your hair and pulls until your back hits his chest.

“Y/N? Everything alright?” William calls from behind the heavy wooden door - one Pero made sure was locked before he devoured your mouth with his.

“She is more than alright, amigo.”

“Pero? What are you doing in Y/N’s room?”

“Vete a la mierda, amigo. Fuck off, my friend. Unless you wish to join?” You can hear William clearing his throat before muttering under his breath, the sound of his footsteps fading in the hallway. Pero’s hand cups your cheek as he plies open your mouth only to shove a rag into it. Making sure it’s good and deep.

“What are you..” you say, the sound completely muffled from the rag now gagged in your mouth. His chapped lips kiss the skin of your neck, his teeth nipping quickly before he whispers, “now you can scream as loud as you want, mi amor. No one will hear you.”

You're pushed into the bed again and he begins to move. His hips thrusting into you, ramming you into the bed. The sound of skin slapping and the wet squelch of your cunt fills the room and you moan loudly as your body shudders from another orgasm.

“Mierda! I’m…I am going to…fuck, where? Where do you want me, amor? Want me to fuck you until you are full of me? Fuck you until your round with me. Would you like me to put a baby in you?”

You nod your head, your cunt aching to be filled by him. To feel him drip out of you as you joined the other for super. Consequences be damned. He groans loudly, his hips faltering as he fills you up before pushing forward and slumping on top of you.

“That was amazing, hermosa. You take me so well. Fit like a glove.” He slips out of you, his softening cock glistening with your combined juices. His lips caress the skin of your back softly before he moves you, flipping you over so you’re facing him.

His hand comes to rest on your cheek, his thumb rubbing circles there and his eyes flicker between yours and your lips before he slowly leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss.

“So much for it being a one time thing. Guess we just couldn’t help ourselves.” His hand travels down your stomach, past your belly button to cup you there. Oh, you yelp. “It was never going to be a one time thing, hermosa. Not with this delectable cunt. Eso, y me estoy enamorando de ti.” That, and I’m falling in love with you.

“What? What did you say?” You say looking at him with admiration in your eyes. “I will tell you someday but not tonight. Now sleep, mi amor.”

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[misspearly1]

Day Twenty-Eight: Hate Fucking - Pero Tovar

Kinktober22 List

WC: 3K Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Cursing. Enemies to Lovers. Smut. Unprotected PIV sex. Voyeurism. Female Masturbation. Dominant/Manhandling. Degradation Kink. (F is called a dirty little slut). Praise kink. AN: Hehehe! I loved writing this, I really liked the enemies to lovers part in this story. I hope you all enjoy the read.

-

If anger had a face, then it would be Pero Tovar's right now at this exact moment and it’s because of you.  

You joined William Garin’s little band of mercenaries three years ago, and there’s been this ongoing feud between you and the Spaniard for so long now that you have forgotten the original reason as to why. Although, you do remember the most recent reason as to why you were pissed off with him and that’s because he tore holes in your bedroll, so naturally, you had to get revenge. 

It’s a game of tit for tat between you and Pero, destined to go too far one day. You can see it coming, but for now it’s just the little inconvenient things that you do to piss him off. For instance, he tore holes in your bedroll, making it uncomfortable for you to sleep on, so you returned the favour and burned his bedroll on the campfire. 

Looking at him now and seeing the cold glaring expression he was giving you as he stands beside the roaring flame of his bed in the fire, you grin. You grin at him with an ear-to-ear kind of smile, acting as innocently as you could. The other men and women sitting around the campfire snicker to themselves, the sound fuelling the rage behind his brown eyes. 

The man is pissed off, there’s no doubt about that, but what other act of revenge is better? He shouldn’t have messed with your bed and now he can sulk as he sleeps in the dirt tonight. He has the coins to buy another tomorrow and maybe, just for shits and giggles, you might sabotage that one somehow too. Just to get the message across. 

Rising from the floor with an obnoxiously loud yawn while you stretch, like rubbing dirt in his wounds, you look around to the group and say goodnight. “Alright. I’m tucking in for the night-” You pause to look directly at Pero, a little smirk on your lips. “Have a good sleep boys and girls.” You turn to walk away, relishing in the laughter over your shoulder, even William chuckled about it. “Well, it is your own fault, Pero.” He says, and you smile sweetly at his remark. 

Williams got your back sometimes when you do stupid things like this, and of course, he has Pero’s back too when he does stupid things to you too. At some point the dispute between you both has to be dealt with properly like adults, but just for a little while longer, you’re going to enjoy making the man’s life miserable because it’s fun. 

Making your way to the edge of camp and opening your tent, you climb inside and smile at your brand new bedroll and quilts. You bought them today at the market, even splashed out a little and got the extra padding. It fits perfectly. You take your shoes off and place them in the corner, then turn around to close the tent and undress, but Pero comes out of nowhere and pushes you back onto your ass.

“Make way,” He grumbles and steps inside your tent. 

“Um, excuse me!” You complain as he turns around to close the entrance. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You ask, to which he responds by kicking his shoes off. “No-no. Absolutely not, Pero. Get out of here. This is my tent. Get it? MY tent, as in mine and not yours.” 

“I know that, but-” He turns to face you again, wearing the same glaring expression he had from earlier. “-It’s ours until I can buy another bedroll tomorrow at the market. Get it? OUR’s, as in, this is what you get for burning mine, hermosa.” 

“Pero. You can’t sleep here, I won’t allow it.” You huff and cross your arms. 

“Yeah well, good luck kicking me out.” He grins. The fucking asshole grins, clearly mocking the way you smiled at him earlier around the campfire. It felt like a giant ‘fuck you’. In fact, he may as well have just said the words and flipped you the bird too. You’re pissed off and can’t do anything about it either.

You sit and look at him, wide-eyed with shock and disbelief as he opens up his shirt. He’s serious, genuinely serious, but when he reaches for his belt buckle, you shake your head and object. “No - don’t you dare Pero Tovar,” You give him a serious, grave look, showing that you’re not messing around. “The pants stay on. Otherwise, I’ll cut your dick off in your sleep.” 

“Oh,” He visibly cringes at the thought, then nods in agreement. Kneeling down and yanking your quilt up, the action pushing you to the side, he climbs into your bed and gets comfy. Literally making himself at home, like this is where he sleeps every night. You sit for a moment, calming your breathing as this is your hell until the morrow - sleeping beside Pero.  

“Asshole.” You mutter, yanking your quilts back before laying down and facing the opposite direction to him. “C’mon now, we both know this is a dream of yours, right?” Pero retaliates with a dark chuckle.

Turning over to face the same direction as you, he scoots closer and presses his chest to your back, his proximity and choice of words making your cheeks burn red with shame. Does he actually know or is he just saying that frivolously? You ask yourself. 

“Tell me something, hermosa-” Pero scoots closer again, purposely pressing his crotch into your ass as he wraps his arm around your front. You bite your lip, fighting the urge to moan and melt under his touch. “-Did you think I wouldn’t be able to hear you moaning my name when you pleasure yourself at night, hm? It’s funny how your tent is always beside mine.” 

Shit. He does know. You panic now, really panic and burn redder than a tomato for quite clearly being caught out by him. It’s true. Completely and utterly true. You’ve pleasured yourself plentiful while moaning his name into your blankets, but apparently not quiet enough. The man is loving every second of your silence, it only fuels his determination to mock and ridicule you even more.

“Hmm. That’s a bad girl, Y/N.” He growls, then tuts quietly into your ear three times. “I should teach you a lesson.” His fingers roam the expanse of your stomach, toying with the waistband of your pants. “Oh but, I think you’ll like that won’t you?... I have a better idea-” He jerks on you to lay back then moves to hover above you. “-Show me, hermosa. Show me how you pleasure yourself and tell me what you think about while you do it.” 

“B-But Pero-” You try to protest and explain yourself, until he places his finger to your lips, cutting you off. “No-no,” He shakes his head with a smirk on his lips, “Save it for later you dirty little slut. Do as I ask, and I’ll reward you, Sí?” 

Nodding eagerly, you’ve dreamed of Pero dominating you like this, dreamed of him manhandling you as he fucks you senseless. You've wanted him so badly, wanted him inside of you and if that means pleasuring yourself in front of him, then so be it. The idea of it is turning you on anyway. 

You make a surprised sound as he leans down and kisses your lips. You didn’t expect him to but are pleased that he did regardless. He lowers his hands to your pants and begins pulling them down, along with your undergarments, before breaking off to take his very first look at your sex. You’ve always wondered how he’d react. 

“Oh. Already wet, I see.” He groans deeply and licks his lips, as if imagining what you taste like. “So pretty and…” He pauses to spread your folds apart. “Hmm, so pink and swollen too. I knew you had a sexy pussy, bebita.” Removing his hand from your cunt, you whine from the loss of his touch. “Go ahead, precioso. Satisfy yourself like you do every night.” 

Audibly gulping, you hesitate briefly with stage fright. You’ve never done anything like this before in previous relationships, it’s usually just the regular plain and simple kind of sex, but you’re intrigued to explore this intimate act with Pero’s dark eyes watching you from above. You feel… desirable and naughty. 

You look down at your body briefly, then back up to his eyes before bringing your hand to your mouth, but upon seeing one brow raised from Pero, you lift your hand to his mouth instead. Your breathing begins to quicken with excitement and wonder as he darts his tongue out and licks the pad of your finger. You want to feel that tongue of his somewhere else.

The smallest sigh escapes your lips as you lower your hand between your legs, and with a quick curt nod from the man, your fingers slip through your wet folds with ease. “Oh,” You moan softly, rubbing nameless shapes on the little bundle of nerves with him watching you attentively. 

“Tell me, what do you think about when you do this, chica?” He asks, looking back up at your face then quickly snaps his fingers, the action springing your eyes open after you had closed them on instinct. “Look at me and answer my question.” 

“I think about you,” Replying with an answer that clearly wasn’t good enough, you could see that he wasn’t happy with it and elaborated for him. “I close my eyes and imagine you doing this instead.” You admit, your brows furrowing together as you press two fingers to your entrance. “I picture your cock inside of me instead of my fingers, Pero.” 

“Even though I would stretch you open? My cock is a lot bigger than two fingers.” He asks another question, making you quiver and clench as you nod to him. “Words querida. I know you can use them.” He jerks his chin out with request. 

“Yes,” You moan as you bend your fingers into a come hither motion. “Yes, I picture your cock inside of me instead, even though it will stretch me open Pero, I still want it… still want you.” 

“Well, today is your lucky day.” He smirks. Pulling your hand away from your cunt and pinning it above your head, you hold your breath in anticipation as he uses his other hand to free himself. You watch as he pulls his pants down just enough so that his cock springs back and slaps his lower stomach, and you panic slightly at the sheer size of him. He wasn’t messing around. The stretch is going to be phenomenal. 

The head of his cock is large, angry red and already leaking beads of pre-cum, then the length of him is six, maybe seven inches at the least, but the girth. Jesus… The girth is wide, bulging with a couple prominent veins. His balls were full and heavy, nicely covered with hair. You can tell just by looking at the hair on his sac and mound that he keeps it tidy and clean.

“Spread your legs, bebita,” Pero whispers breathlessly, taking himself in hand. “And spread them wide.” 

You didn’t know where to look as you parted your legs for him. At his face, which was drinking in the sight of your cunt, looking like it’s the best one he’s ever seen. At his manhood as he slowly strokes himself, swirling his finger over the head of his cock, gathering the pre-um. Or look down at your own body as he moves in to line himself up at your entrance.

It was especially arousing to watch the man gaze at your pussy, not even looking up at you as he slid his cock up and down your slit. He was just enjoying the way your body reacted to his touch, the way you clenched around nothing and quivered for him. He decided to tease you a little more by barely slipping in and out, taking pleasure from the way you lift your hips, as if chasing after him. 

“Hm, so needy.” Pero chuckles, finally looking up into your pleading eyes. “When was the last time you had sex, cariño?” He asks, to which you stutter out in reply. “L-Last year, f-ffuck. Pero, please.” You whine, lifting your hips up again as he pulls the tip out. It’s torture feeling him breach your entrance and giving you all but a taste of what’s to come. You want the whole thing, but he wanted to keep you waiting. To drag it out as long as he possibly could. 

“A whole year, huh?” The man tilts his head in question, eyes darting to your shirt briefly before he lifts it up, exposing your breasts. “Not with anyone here, I hope,” He groans at the delectable sight of your tits, nipples hardening before his eyes with the cool air. “If you’re going to be my little plaything, I don’t want anyone getting in the way of that.” 

“No, not with anyone here.” You answer quickly, rotating your hips. “No one will get in the way, Pero. Stop teasing me, please.” You beg, beg for him to give what you so desperately want, but he only smiles, as if he was pleased with your answer, but not ready to give up teasing you just yet. You resort to whining for him, feeding his sick, twisted desire of hearing you plead for his cock when suddenly, he thrusts forward. “Pero!” You scream, scream loud enough that even God himself would hear. 

“Nnnngh. So fucking warm and tight,” He growls deeply, pinning both hands above your head now as he takes a moment for your walls to relax around him. The first thrust inside was almost enough to make him cum, it felt so good and euphoric. He wishes he could stay in that moment forever, wrapped tightly with the warmth of your cunt. 

“Fuuuck,” You sob as he pulls out, missing the fullness of him for only a second as he plunges back inside. “Holy shit!" You pulse around his length, feeling every inch of his girth before he pulls out again and sets a quick, brutally deep pace, touching your cervix each time he bottoms out inside. 

“Love this, don’t you, cariño.” He asks rhetorically. Pile-driving into your pussy and knocking the breath out of your lungs each time, you only managed to whimper for him in reply before he leans down and presses his forehead against yours, panting heavily across your face. “That’s what I thought. Good girl, Y/N. Good fucking girl, taking my cock so well.” 

“P-P-Pero,” Your moan stutters its way out as you fall apart for him. You wanted to express how much you’ve wanted this, how long you’ve wanted it for and how many times you’ve pleasured yourself thinking about him fucking you this way, but all you could do way lay there and moan pleasurably while taking his pounding. 

“I know, bebita, I know.” He reassures, mockingly. “Just feels so good for you, doesn’t it? My cock is so big and fat, reaching deep inside and fucking you just right like the good little slut that you are. Just like you imagined me to fuck you. I know, Y/N. It’s okay.” 

Yanking your hands away from where he had them pinned, you grab onto his shoulder and wrap your legs around his back, mewling directly into his ear that you’re close. The man skilfully changes his rhythm, keeping his thrusts short and grinding into you, using the hair on his mound to stimulate your clit. “Where? Fuck! Where, cariño?” He asks, nearing his own peak too. 

“Inside. Please, please, inside.” You plead seconds before coming together. White static erupts behind your eyes and your skin burns with heat. The ecstasy floods your bloodstream as the tension in your abdomen unravels. You feel the pleasure wash over your body, making your toes curl and your fingernails dig into the skin around his shoulder, but then, then you feel his release. It’s warm and plentiful, painting your walls with ropes upon ropes as he reverts to a slow grind. 

“Dios mío! (Oh my God).” He whines, actually whines as he rides out the peak of his climax. The sweat clings to his skin, making the brown curls of his hair stick to his forehead as his thrusts becomes sloppy and ragged, as if releasing everything in his ball sac into you. There’s so much that you feel it escaping your pulsing entrance, dripping down to the bedroll beneath your body and making an audible wet sound each time his hips connect with yours. 

As Pero slows and eventually collapses onto your body, breathless and exhausted, you thread your fingers through his hair and pull his head back to look at you. “Hey. You okay?” You ask, concerned, and he nods in reply, unable to form a coherent sentence at this particular moment until he catches his breath. “Good. That’s good, asshole-” You tease playfully with a smirk on your lips. “-Because now it’s my turn to get you back for making me wait so damn long.” 

You roll over, pin his hands above his head and look down at the stunned expression on his face, clearly taken aback, but so fucking hungry for your revenge. And what Pero doesn’t know yet, but will very shortly, is that you’re exceptionally good at edging a man so good that he will cry for mercy. 

That’s exactly what you plan to do - make Pero beg for his orgasm.

-

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[multific]

Cold Winter

Pero Tovar x Reader

Words: 1.2K

Summary: Spending your first winter with your husband.

A/N: This can be read as Part 2 to my other story or as a standalone. Enjoy~

You could hear him chopping wood outside. You heard as he lifted and then dropped the axe to cut the wood into small pieces.

Winter hit suddenly, as it usually does, but this time, you weren't so prepared.

Unfortunately, your husband decided to spend the time between your legs instead of doing actually useful tasks.

Your chicken was hungry, your horses were fussy and yet he just couldn't keep his hands to himself.

Pero was like a starved man in heat. And you loved him for it. Being married to him for a couple of months now you learned he would sacrifice anything to be with you, and if that meant chopping wood in a snowstorm, then he would do so.

In the meantime, you readied warm food for him and some water so he could take a bath. 

When he finally got back into the cabin, he dusted his jacket from the snow and threw more wood on the fire.

"With this much, we can keep the house warm for a week." he said as he sat down by the table, you could feel his eyes staring at your back, mainly at your ass.

"Cariño, come over here." he said and you heard as he tapped his leg for you to sit, but you just laughed.

"I don't think. I want to make some bread after dinner so tomorrow we can have it fresh. You are just distracting me from my tasks."

"You have no tasks, Mi Esposa. Your task is to keep your husband happy during these harsh months. Winter should be about relaxing and-"

"And not freezing to death. If it was up to you, My Dear Husband, we would still be in bed with a dying fire."

"Maybe the fire in the fireplace was dying, but my love for you is never fading." You turned to look at him. With a small laugh, you shook your head and dried off your hands. But you didn't go to him.

"And since when are you so poetic?"

"Since I have been married to you. You made a swordsman like me settle down, and while I do not miss the thrill of nearly avoiding death every day, I would rather have us in that bed than anywhere else."

"You are the worst. I'm making bread and you will take a bath."

Of course, making him wait was fully intentional, he needed to learn to do his tasks first and then he could have his candy. Much like a child.

You heard him huff behind you, but when you placed the plate of food in front of him, he stopped his fussing and focused more on eating.

Pero loved to eat, and he really appreciated your cooking.

While he ate, you focused on making the dough. Once you were done, you sat down by the table to have your own meal.

"Cariño, I really hope you will join me in the bath."

"I will, but no funny business, I'm rather tired." you honestly just wanted to save yourself from the hustle to heat up new water, but you also knew he had other ideas.

And even if he said he wouldn't, you knew he would definitely try.

Which is exactly why you sat on the other end of the bathtub as the two of you got in. You felt the hot water relax your muscles. It felt really good.

"Eres hermosa mi amor." you heard him say.

"I don't know what that means." it was true, and although you picked up many words from his language, you were not even close to being fluent.

"It means that you are beautiful, my love."

You looked at him, he looked way too inviting for his own good. Dark eyes fixed on you, broad shoulders and chest just above the water, his delicious tan skin dripping with water, and you knew exactly what lurked under the body soap and water. His delicious body which always made sure you found your own pleasure.

You would have jumped right on him if you weren't so tired. Instead, you just started washing yourself before relaxing back into the water, letting it take away all your worries and pain.

You felt his eyes watching your every move, you knew he wanted to wash you but you also knew that he would just whisper into your ear with his hands on you and you would never be able to tell him no.

You felt him move in the water, washing himself as you leaned back a little and closed your eyes.

You stayed like that until you felt the water getting cold. Both of you move out and changed into your sleeping garments, which for him, wasn't much. Even in the cold, he slept shirtless, not that you minded.

Pero put more wood on the fire as you checked if your dough has nicely risen already or not. You let out a yawn just as a pair of hands found their way around you, hugging you from behind.

"Bailar Conmigo." oh you heard that one before even if you had no idea what it meant.

"Wait, don't tell me... you want to...dance?" you asked as he moved his head into the crook of your neck, you felt him smile against your skin.

"You are getting better." 

"I recognize words, but I cannot even say them correctly."

"Let me teach you one, Mi Esposo." you tilted your head as you turned around in his arms, putting your hands on his shoulder.

"Mi Esposo." you repeated after him. "What does it mean?"

"My Husband. You should call me that."

"Oh, and here I was hoping you'd teach me something naughty. And there you go, teaching me something cute and simple, I'm truly disappointed Mi Esposo."

He let out a laugh this time and you smiled.

"What do you want me to teach you?" he asked as he slowly started to sway the two of you. You shrugged your shoulders. Instead, you pulled him down for a kiss. A sweet kiss, not like the ones you shared in your bed earlier. This was a kiss between two lovers to make sure the other knew exactly how much they loved one another.

"Te amo." you said when he pulled away and he smiled again, hugging you close.

He slowly walked the two of you to bed, laying you down before getting under the covers himself and pulling you close.

He was the only reason that made this unbearably cold winter manageable.

Warmth.

He was so warm, so inviting and so calming. He was your home, your husband. You loved him so much.

"Good night, te amo, Mi Esposa," he said just as you were about to sleep, your fist clenched against his chest as he kissed your forehead.

And soon, the two of you fell into a slumber, surrounded by each other's warmth and the love you shared.

Translator: (Please note: I do not speak Spanish, this is all from the translator)

Cariño - Sweetie 

Mi Esposa - My Wife

Mi Esposo - My Husband

Eres hermosa mi amor - You are beautiful my love

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​​ @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​​ @paola-carter​​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

[nerdieforpedro]

For your satisfaction Señora

Part One: Do you know what you want Señora?

Modern day Pero Tovar x plus size female OC

Fanfiction 18+ read the warnings!

Masterlist / Pero Tovar Masterlist

Summary: Cereza has an issue with her husband. He is alive. She plans to ask Tovar to help her with this delicate issue. Tovar finds that this works in his favor.

Warnings: planning a murder (I don't recommend it), harassment (Tovar and his questions), masturbation (male and female solos), mentions of sex work, violence, intimidation, stalking/voyerism (Tovar be messy), dismemberment

Notes: I couldn't think of a good name for the Dame so it is what it is. Not sure how many parts this will be, maybe three? I have a new appreciation for Pero Tovar. Let's see it together. 😎

“You can have a night for free you know; you’ve worked with me long enough Cereza.”

“I know he won’t do a night for free, Dame Chanel please arrange it for me. It needs to be more of a client thing, as much as it can be.” 

She sighed; she didn’t want to pay such an outrageous price for one night with the man, but she knew him well. He would not tell her what she needed to know otherwise. She knew about her husband’s cheating ways; she has for years. The issue was that apparently now he wanted to leave her, and she would have to pay alimony. Cereza knew she would not only have to pay to talk to the man who could solve her issue, she would have to pay him to solve the issue separately. 

“I’m surprised he won’t entertain a conversation with you. You’re the only handler he prefers to get his jobs through. He normally berates the others or doesn’t answer their calls despite being highly requested.”

“The man wouldn’t need a handler if he knew how to speak to the clients himself, he has no filter and is much too blunt. How is it that he…” Cereza struggled to form the words, not all the jobs were assassinations, threats, or bodyguard work, some were from women who wanted an escort. She could not picture that barbarian of a man be accommodating toward any woman unless he was getting an obscene amount of money. Nothing else seemed to interest him save for a friend he had mentioned, never by name. He sounded like a decent sort, how did he ever get to know Tovar?

“It doesn’t matter, just please set it up Ma’am.” Cereza left the Dame’s office, she could get a meeting with him sure, but how exactly would she ask him, how could this be pulled off so she could be eliminated as a suspect? Once at her office she sighed, if he would just play his role and be a proper trophy husband, things would be fine. She was even getting to the point she was fine masturbating and getting herself off, but to know that man not only had the gall to cheat on her, but he was also getting her hard-earned money after continuing his ‘graphic design’ career where he only had a few jobs a month and those she had to push him to take instead of being around the house all day. It pissed her off to no end and that’s clearly motive.

“I should have never gotten married. I thought he understood what I needed. I just needed him to be there. He used to be.”

Tovar was a man about his money. Do not mess with his money, get in the way of him making money and damn sure do not try to take any of his money. He was not above killing, maiming, threatening, fucking and whatever else was required for him to maintain his secure condo and sizable bank account. He and his friend William had gotten into this jack of all trades work together early in their twenties, but now that Tovar was in his mid-forties, he had only slowed down a little. William on the other hand, limited his jobs to bodyguard work, escorts with no happy endings and an assassination here or there. Will had married, settled down and had children. Other people to provide and care for. Tovar was happy for his friend but never saw the point in sharing his wealth or investing in anyone other than himself. You couldn’t guarantee a return on another person. He had found that with most of his handlers, they were always trying to get him to network and talk to people, Tovar felt it was unnecessary.

The only handler that seemed to understand business was business was Cereza or ‘Señora’ (Ma’am) he often called her. He knew she was married given the ring on her finger but not much more then that. She did not waste his time, was straightforward and he appreciated that. No meeting after things were finished with clients or dinners where jobs were not discussed. It did cause him to wonder, why she had no pictures of her husband on anyone in her office, other handlers had at least a few. Was she an island like himself, adrift in life with no one tethering them to the mainland? After two months of working with her he decided to bring it up in one of the many conversations in Señora’s office:

“The target was eliminated easily. I brought the proof the client asked for.” Tovar placed a wooden box on Cereza’s desk. She looked up at him and reached into one of her desk drawers, pulling out blue nitrile gloves and donned them. She opened the box to see a man’s foot cut clean at the ankle, she picked it up and examined it. Setting it back down, she threw her gloves in the trash and used some hand sanitizer. 

“I’ll take it from here. The requested item is in excellent condition. They’ll likely give you a bonus for that. That’s all Tovar.” She told him curtly. It was to dismiss him; she knew he didn’t like being in her office any more than he had to. Tovar nodded but did not leave, instead he was direct.

“Why don’t you have any pictures of anyone Señora? Like your husband.” He asked his head nodding in the direction of her left hand that wore her gold wedding ring. She used her thumb to roll it on her finger, her soft palms started to perspire. The woman studied his face, looking for any reason he may be asking this, there was none that she could see. His face remained the same as when he put the foot on her desk. A slight scowl but otherwise blank. 

“It’s not like you to pry Tovar. What’s brought this about?” She asked confused. This was new. She did not like it. She had come to know what to expect from him, Tovar was predicable unlike her husband.

Tovar shrugged, “I was curious. Do you really have a husband? Do you like being called Señora? Is it a kink for you?” He asked, half-joking, though it may be why she did wear the ring. Women were slightly less likely to be pursed if there was a wedding ring.

Cereza rolled her eyes. Of course, he’s messing with her, this is a new angle though. Usually, he would ask why she always wears pants and never skirts, even when it’s warm. She had told him then it was because of her legs, though not in detail. It was true, but only because she didn’t feel like having her thighs rub together all day in and out of the office, plus she hadn’t really had any reason to wear dresses seeing that her husband didn’t care if she wore them or not. He was still meeting with his mistress. Why be uncomfortable for something that’s not going happen? “No, it is not a kink. Yes, I do have a husband. Please go Tovar.” She stood and walked to the door, opening it for him as she rubbed her temple, she felt a headache coming on. 

“Señora, you seemed stressed. Maybe your esposo (husband) isn’t caring for you properly? Take something for that headache, would you? I’ll ask you again about you and your husband.” Tovar smiled, stopping to tap her shoulder being leaving. Cereza sat back down until her headache subsided slightly and she felt well enough to drink, she downed some ibuprofen she had in her desk and secured the foot in her office safe for delivery tomorrow. “Maybe he’s starting something because he wants a new handler, fine by me.”

In the subsequent months, Tovar would ask occasionally about Señora’s husband to which she would either ignore the questions completely or just tell Tovar that her husband is just fine. He was enjoying seeing her frustrated by his questions, she was normally stoic, so this was fun, having her slightly flustered to where he would only see. Tovar was an intelligent man despite most thinking he was the opposite given his imposing appearance. He was tall, had dark hair, cut close to his ears, the curls snaked near the tops of his ears. He had a scar over his left eye that divided that eyebrow in two. His jawline was peppered with a light beard that didn’t match the thick mustache under his nose. His face was normally neutral unless he was angry or annoyed.  The assassin was enjoying himself, until one day she asked if he wanted a new handler.

“Wait, Señora what do you mean?” His eyes wide. Cereza shook her head and crossed her arms in front of her chest, they were waiting for their client to show up to a restaurant to discuss an escort job. The pair usually arrived ten minutes earlier to scope out the place and review the client’s file.

“After these next few jobs, I think you should have a new handler. One you can discuss matters with. I’m not one for discussing my personal life and you keep asking. I thought you told me you were business only.” Cerza reminded him. She wasn’t wrong, but he had been curious at first, just messing with her. But her responses became more defensive, and her frustration grew, and Tovar had noticed for the second week now she wasn’t wearing her ring. At times when they would discuss jobs, her mind wasn’t focused, she would lose track of what she was talking about and once called a client by the wrong name, the client didn’t hear her because they were too busy complaining about the person, they wanted Tovar to threaten but he noticed as he did most things with Señora. Her hair always in a tight bun at the back of her head, always pants never skirts or dresses. Tovar would give her calves some extra study in the off chance she wore capris, the were large and shapely like the rest of her. Normally in dark colors, almost always black from heat to toe. Small gold studs were in her ears to match the ring that she no longer wore. The only smile he ever saw from her was with a client, never toward him. Señora always frowned with him, even when he joked with her, he thought he may get a pity smile, but she wouldn’t give him that either. 

“Señora, I’m actually worried. I was having a bit of fun with you before but these last few months you’ve been different. You also don’t wear your ring anymore.” Tovar took her hand and squeezed her ring finger to prove his point, then let go. “I will stop mentioning your husband, but I will not take another handler. You have adjusted to me, so I shall need to adjust to you.” He nodded and then put a fake smile on his face as he looked behind her. “It looks like our client is here.”

“So, it would seem. Fine, I’ll put it on hold for now.” She answered softly, the warmth of his hand was gone. When was the last time she was touched by a man? She was starved, that’s the only reason for that thought. The client was a woman in her mid-seventies. It turns out, she wanted Tovar to escort her to a black-tie charity event, fine, not like he hadn’t done it before. The client did ask about the happy ending service to which she was quote the price. The older woman looked at Cereza and asked in a hushed tone, 

“How am I to know if what I pay for is gonna be any good? Have you slept with him? Do you know big he is below the belt and how well he uses it?” Señora’s entire face flushed, and she felt like she had been doused with hot sauce, her skin burned. She immediately looked at Tovar who had a shit eating grin on his face and took her hand again as he answered for his handler.

“I mean she does have to sample my work from time to time to make sure I’m good enough to be an escort right Señora?” He drew out the senora longer than it needed to be as his thumb ran across the back of her soft hand, pressing into it slightly. Cereza cleared her throat and nodded, pulled out of the trance that she was in. 

“Y-Yes. I can guarantee that you will be fully satisfied Ma’am. He is rather generous with his partners and doesn’t stop until they reach completion. At least twice before the main event.” Cereza smiled back and Tovar as he raised an eyebrow, he released Señora’s hand and took both of the client’s hands. The older woman gasped and shook her head. 

“I may just do the escort by itself. That actually sounds like too much. I got my hip replaced three years ago, or maybe so. Can I decide later?” The woman scanned Tovar up and down, she maybe should have listened to the doctor when he was talking all that nonsense about vitamin D and calcium. 

Cerza shook her head and stated that things needed to be decided now so the client decided on just the escort and said she would revisit the happy ending another time when she felt up to it. The pair walked the woman to her car and Tovar did the same for Cerza. She went to open her door to which he sneered and opened it for her, he stood beside her car door and leaned in after she rolled her window down. 

“You sold me pretty hard to that client. Is that what you like Señora? Twice before the main event? I’ll have to remember that.” He smirked. Cereza sighed.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to mention anything anymore.” She countered, picking up her phone to see a missed call from her husband. Further annoyed, she tossed it back in her purse. Tovar turned his head to the side.

“I didn’t mention your husband, only what you said to the client. I’m inferring that to mean he does not, especially the way you tossed your phone.” He pointed. “Maybe you should try me out. I make a point not to with those I work with, but I feel you’re different Señora. You need some tending to don’t you?” Cerza closed her eyes. She just needed to turn the keys, drive away, but here she was listening to this man propositioning her. Sure, all of the women who Tovar pleasured were paying for it and likely told him their preferences, but they were also starved for affection like her. It’s why they sought-out escorts, for the sex obviously but companionship as well, having someone warm next to you instead of a cold bed at home.

“No. It’s business, all business. You leave this shit right here. I may be…dammit.” She had almost told him in her frustration. The manipulative bastard was getting to her. She turned her keys and started her car. “Move Tovar. I need to sleep on it and decide if you’re going to have a new handler come tomorrow.” Tovar backed up and put his hands in his pockets still smiling, he knew she had thought about it and that’s why she got mad. He wasn’t getting a new handler tomorrow. Tovar then decided on a new project, he would back off his handler a bit, she did seem high-strung now. He needed to know why and for that, he would need to find out about her husband.

Cerza went home to a dark house. That man was out again, maybe with the mistress she knew of it could with someone else or he could be just out. It didn’t matter. Tonight made her angry in so many ways. Sure, they secured the client and Tovar would do his job as he always did fine. But why should she be annoyed at work and at home? At home she understood because her husband was MIA but at work as well? Where was she questioned about said husband all the time? And now this asshole had the stones to be asking about her preferences in bed? Had Cereza not been the one to set up the initial meeting with the client, she would have thought that Tovar had talk that old woman into bring up his performance. 

Honestly…. She wearily removed her clothes, not caring that she was dropping them in her living room, fully naked and walking around her house. She had more time to do this since her husband was out and came to like it over the years. She chuckled thinking of the few times he had come home, and she was naked, and he averted his eyes, embarrassed. She asked him why he was embarrassed to look at his own wife, he used to be following her around the house, craving her, stalking her, but now…none of that. Instead, it was a man who she wasn’t sure if he was just mocking the frustration he read on her. The handler could never tell if Tovar was serious of not, part of his job was to act like he liked all those women, she could well be one more he was pretending with.

She looked down at her left hand, the first day she really had forgotten to wear it, she washed her hands after using the bathroom before driving into work. She removed it to dry under it lest it get itchy later in the day. It wasn’t until she had been at the office for a few hours that she noticed it wasn’t on. When she came home, it was on the bathroom counter. She put it on but then later took it off before getting in the shower and left it off. One day turned into three, that turned into a week, then two, why did he of all people have to notice? 

“Well of course he would, I see him most days, unlike my own damn husband.”

Tovar followed Señora’s car to her home. He only noted one car, so he assumed her husband was likely not home. He thought it was odd and earlier she seemed pissed that her husband was calling her. It appeared their relationship was bad; he just didn’t know how poor it really was. He would come back another day, for now, he knew where she lived, he could look the rest up, however, he did not expect to see a naked woman in the living room. He was too far away to make out details thought he desperately wanted to, but he was sure it was Señora, he guessed she was just in her own head as she always was lately, stark naked with her hand on the window almost like she was trying to go through it. Her generous curves had always intrigued Tovar, she looked soft, but he knew he would be able to bend her, stretch her, run his hands over her soft belly, breasts, thighs, and arms, finally be able to hear her scream Tovar in a sensual manner and not an angry one. He found her sexy while she was fuming too though.

To have a woman like that so pissed that she wouldn’t answer the phone from her own husband, Tovar chuckled. He recalled a day when he was his way to her office, and he overheard a conversation between a male client and Señora. She was reviewing escorts for some holiday party and apparently none of the available women met his standards, though he stupidly told Señora that he would like to see her out of her suit and in a dress with his arm around her. He would pay the double what he planned to pay the escort. Tovar came closer to the door so intervene, but Señora had pulled a knife and was holding it to his throat, a red line dripped down his neck. The man left and later was rumored to have paid a large sum for improper conduct. Tovar had held onto the wall that day as he hardened from the sight. He needed to catch himself though, because after the man left, Señora wiped off her knife and turned to him, asking him if he was here for his next job. 

Tovar might even be able to have her say his first name in exchange for tasting her wet core as he made her climax twice times before entering her to have her devour his cock.

“As the lady wants...” A zipper cut through the night air and the jangle of a belt buckle becoming undone as he removed his engorged member felt the chill of the air on it, he groaned as he watched her at the window. He wondered how many nights she stood at the window like that, would he be able to see her tomorrow if he came back? He spat in his hand and held his shaft, circling his thumb over the head of his cock. Tovar wondered how many times she was alone like this, without her husband. It seemed ridiculous leaving her alone, a soft sigh left his lips, leaning back into the driver’s seat as he looked up at her, when did this longing start exactly? Only when he started asking about her husband or prior to that? Maybe it was the affinity he felt toward her no-nonsense business sense. His hand began to work up and down, matching his thirst for her, “I could bury myself in you Señora, fuck, you wouldn’t be able to get rid of me…” He exhaled after another groan, biting his own lips as he felt himself start to let go, envisioning her body covered with a thin sheen of sweat below him. He would kiss her and wrap himself around her as he lay beside her, touching her shoulder and neck with his lips. He would finally take her hair out of the little bun she always wore, it would expand from their amorous pursuits and he run his fingers through her hair, feeling her simply breathe next to him as she slept. Tovar quickly grabbed a tissue out of the cup holder and gave himself half a dozen more pumps before releasing into the napkin. Peering back up at Señora’s home, he questioned if he was losing his mind. Smiling to himself, he knew that it was gone long ago, otherwise he wouldn’t be in such a hidden business that required go-betweens. Tovar knew he would have to approach this carefully. His hand would have to do outside of escort work, for now.

Señora was not aware Tovar saw her. She had absent-mindly gone to gaze at the moon. Feeling cold, she made her way up her shower and washed, using her favorite body was that smelled of vanilla figs. The last part of her night was to get out her wand and use it to stimulate herself though a disturbing trend was occurring, at least to her. It had been more difficult to climax on her own, so she began watching some porn, but it didn’t get her going, however, one of the nights shortly after telling Tovar against not to mention her husband, she said his name and felt a spark. She said it again and felt it a bit more. 

“Damn Tovar, I can’t escape him even here…Ahh…” A moan left her as she thought of him, leaning over her desk, interrogating her about her husband. The image made her angry, but she started picturing him touching her hand, placing his hand on her forehead. He had large hands, calloused from bodyguard work and assassinations, but gentle with her. 

“Señora, your husband no longer knows what you like. Tell me so I can do it for you. Tell me what you need.”

“Relax Señora, sit here on your desk. You’ll forget about everything. I’ll make sure of it.”

“How many fingers do you want Señora? You want me to cum on your face or breasts? Spread yourself for me. I want to see you unravel for me. Is your pussy as tight as your hair bun?”

Cerzea, fingers rolled her nipples and tugged on them while her thighs trapped the vibrating want between them, hips attempting to ride it, the wetter she became.

“Your husband can’t make you drip like this can he? Cry out my name and I’ll give you more Señora. I can bend you over the desk and fill you to the brim.”

Her moans became louder, bordering on screams, she said his name, “P-Pero…yes, fill me Pero. Spread me on…Ugh.. the desk and ruin my pussy…Pero…Pero please…Ahhh!!” Cereza screamed as her heat peaked, arching her back, the waves crashed over her as she continued to whisper his name.

 “Pero…Pero…Pero, Pero.” She fell asleep across the bed, her headache non-existent, replaced with guilt for thinking Pero Tovar as she pleasured herself. Her hands covered her face, groaning at what she had done, again. She hated what she was doing, yet she hadn’t stopped these past months. Tonight, had made it worse, he actually said words similar to what she longed to hear in her office. For Tovar to ask her what she wanted and to give it to her without further questions or expectations. 

“I’m going insane. Maybe I should fly away somewhere. I need to not see him. Maybe I can find Pero an overseas assignment.” Cereza paused. She just said his first name aloud. “It’s so loathsome. That man’s name should not be that cute.”

——————————————-

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added):

@fhatbhabie @morallyinept @pedritapascal @pascalsanctuary @nissaimmortal @grogusmum @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @goodwithcheese @iamasaddie @psychedelic-ink @modernperplexity @pamasaur @pedrodascal @marcus-is-my-muse @clawdee @mintypossum @trulybetty @perotovar @joelslegalwhre @josephquinnswhore @mandoisapunk @awilderi @deviinci @secretelephanttattoo @for-a-longlongtime @tessa-quayle @legendary-pink-dot @sin-djarin @maggiemayhemnj @rhoorl @magpiepillsjunior @intoanotherworld23

[dino-fart]

Getting back into the groove of things after being sick.

I've reblogged some writing prompts, send me some asks with the prompts and characters you want <3

[pasc4lfuzz]

Last day of August and i wanna share the best fics i've read in this month 🧡 So welcome to my 2024 August Fic Rec!

As some of you may know im more of a series person, because i like the desenvolvement of the romance and all the things that led the characters to fall in love + the plot, so you'll may find more series than one shots in here.

I just noticed as i was making the rec list that this month the writers i read the most was @punkshort and @mysterious-moonstruck-musings💕

+18 MDNI Some of them might be ongoing so check the authors blog. dividers by @/saradika-graphics

SERIES

Defying Algorithms - joel miller x f!reader by @yxtkiwiyxt

'swept away' and 'roommates' - Joel Miller x f!reader by @punkshort

Dark Shades of Innocence Lost - club owner/pleasure dom! Joel x fem! reader by @mermaidgirl30

Hot Neighbor Joel Miller - Joel Miller x f!reader by @notjustjavierpena

Batter Up - Baseball Player Joel Miller x Female Reader AU by @whocaresstillthelouvre

Fear of God - Joel Miller x OFC by @netherfeildren

Halcyon - Joel Miller x f!reader by @justagalwhowrites

Destiny & Deliverance - Dieter Bravo X OFC (Natalia) - and Closed Position - Dieter Bravo x OFC by @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

Scathed - Javier Peña X OFC by @dancingtotuyo

Happy Ending - Francisco Morales x F!Reader by @noxturnalpascal

Adrift With You - Frankie Morales x OFC by @morallyinept

the melting point - Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader) by @penvisions

Notes On Tutoring - Dave York x f!reader by @honestly-shite

Sassenach and the Spaniard - Pero Tovar x female reader by @wardenparker

Beskar Doll - Din Djarin x Female Reader by @justagalwhowrites

'in another life' - Marcus Acacius x f!reader (time travel au) by @punkshort

ONE SHOT

Rotten - cowboy!joel x f!reader by @alltheirdamn

Man’s Love - no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader by @sanarsi

Wedding Crashers - dilf!joel miller x f!reader by @yxtkiwiyxt

dancing with a ghost - joel miller x f!reader by @huntingingoodwill

Something Unexpected - Joel Miller x f!reader by @punkshort

every breath you take - (no outbreak) Joel Miller x f!Reader by @freelancearsonist

dried blood and swear words - joel miller x reader by @iamasaddie

Joel's Eyes - Joel Miller x f!reader by @auteurdelabre

rack 'em - bbf!frankie morales x f!reader by @macfrog

Date with a Rockstar - rockstar!Frankie Morales x f!Reader by @sanarsi

Hole in One - Frankie Morales x f! beverage cart girl reader by @pilotispunk

Rough Waters - Frankie Morales x OFC (Elena) by @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

Dispose Of Me - Javier Peña x Female Reader by @whocaresstillthelouvre

a litany of lethe - javier peña x f!reader by @kiwisbell

Online Love - Javier Peña x F!Reader by @absurdthirst

mark of the beast - din djarin x reader by @studioghibelli

In Another Lifetime - General Marcus Acacius x OFC! Cecilia by @inept-the-magnificent

Dulces Sueños - Pero Tovar x f!reader by @oonajaeadira

See you all with the next fic rec in october!

[sirowsky-stories]

Lingerie For Beginners

Summary: Pero wants to give his new lady a present, but he's not exactly at home in the underwear store.

Requested by @suttonspuds

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Pero Tovar x OFC, the images are just for aesthetics, female character is not described beyond being a B-cup, no overt sexual themes but plenty of mentions of breasts and overall mature content. Word Count: 1200

   His hands are already clammy with nervous sweat as he walks into the store, certain he’s about to embarrass himself, but also determined to leave with what he hopes will be an outfit exactly as the one he pictures in his head.    Calling it that might be an overstatement, however, as he stops and looks around a few feet into the establishment, seeing nothing concealing enough to be referred to as a complete outfit.    Lots of it looks fun, though. While some of it looks downright scary.

   “Can I help you, sir?” a silky voice says to his right, and he looks over to find a middle-aged woman, wearing a polka dot dress in 60’s style with matching makeup and hat, all of which somehow suits her perfectly.

   “Yes, well…” he tries, but the words die on his tongue when he realizes he doesn’t quite know how to describe what he wants.

   “First time in a lingerie store?” the woman guesses, and there’s no judgement or even curiosity in her voice, which sets him at ease.

   He nods while feeling his shoulders relax somewhat, and she smiles in response.

   “Alright, no problem. My name is Wendy, now let me just work out what we’re dealing with here.    Are you looking for something for a new relationship or something to spice up an older one?”

   “New. Three months.”

   “Aw, congratulations,” she offers sincerely. “That means it’s not an anniversary, though. Birthday?”

   “No. She has been feeling down lately, because of her job. It makes her feel ugly sometimes,” he tries to explain, and she immediately gets it.

   “So, you wanna remind her that’s not how she looks to you, and maybe help boost her self-image a bit?”

   “Yes, exactly this.”

   “Honey, that’s precisely what sexy lingerie is supposed to be about. You’ve got the right idea, now let’s see if we can find a good fit for you, and for her, of course.    I assume you have her sizes?”

   “Uh… I know she has a B-cup,” he offers, feeling stupid for not remembering to check more than that, but in fairness, he’s never done this before.

   “Don’t worry, I’m sure we can figure it out. Can you show me by hand-measurement how wide her back or hips are?”

   This he knows without hesitation, because he loves to watch her when she struts around naked or just in her underwear in the apartment. And she’s been trapped beneath him both from the front and the back many times, so he knows her size compared to him very well.    Using his hands, he gives the saleswoman as accurate a representation as he can, and she leads him off down the aisles.

   “Okay, first off: which color did you have in mind?”

   “She looks especially good in white. And I like the lace that you can just almost see through,” he admits, feeling a bit vulnerable revealing his preferences to someone he isn’t intimately involved with.

   “And what about style? What type of bra do you think would best show off her bust?”

   This question he feels genuinely unwilling to answer, simply because discussing his woman’s private parts with a complete stranger seems utterly indecent.    She’s come to a stop in one of the aisles and is perusing a variety of white bra’s, some with lace, others with silk, but she pauses when she notices him turning away and displaying general discomfort.

   “I’m sorry, I know this can feel somewhat invasive. I’m just trying to help you visualize so that you can get the perfect set for your woman, and for yourself.”

   “I understand this, I just… don’t feel good about describing her in such detail.”

   “Well, maybe you don’t have to,” she suggests, and then picks out a cute little bra, holding it up to his scrutiny. “For example, this is a balconette. See how the cups form a straight line when they’re filled? It usually gives the breasts a bit of a bounce and rounds them off really nicely.    Whereas this one is called a plunge, because the triangular shape of the cup means that you don’t conceal any skin between the breasts.    And then there’s the cage-bra, which is really sexy with different kinds of straps, either over the breasts, shoulders, or across the back.”

   As she describes them, she holds each of them up and demonstrates their features, then she emphasizes that each of the different styles come in all sorts of fabrics, so there’s no limit to which one he can pick, if he wants lace.    But all this does, is confusing him even more. He really has no idea what his date might look best in. Hell, he didn’t even know there were so many different types of bras.

   “I don’t like the cage one,” he finally manages to work out. “Too complicated.”

   “Good, now we’re getting somewhere.”

   “Which would you recommend?” he asks then, conceding that he is talking to an expert on the matter and might as well trust her judgement better than his own ignorance.

   “Hmmm… Having only a basic sense of your girl’s body-type, I think I would go for the balconette. It generally makes any bosom look good, provided it’s a good quality piece.    And actually, come to think of it, we have a gorgeous lace version, with a satin/lace hipster panty to go with it.    Let me get it for you, and see what you think.”

   She darts off before he’s had a chance to respond, so he stands there awkwardly while he waits for her to return, idly looking at some of the choices available in the nearest aisles, some of which he can’t even work out how a person’s supposed to get into.    But he also spots something interesting. A teddy made almost entirely from glass crystals, strung together into the shape of a bra which connects to a tiny pair of panties, only the crotch of which is made of fabric, but still see-through lace.    It’s not at all what he thought he might be drawn to, but he can almost see how good it would look on the body he most desires, and he just can’t take his eyes off it.

   “That one’s not as expensive as it looks,” Wendy promptly informs him when she sees where his gaze has gotten stuck.

   “Really?” he hears himself ask before he manages to reel in his racing thoughts. “Uh, but it’s not what I was looking for. It is nice, though.”

   “Maybe next time,” she suggests, and he shrugs, so she proceeds to show him the piece she’s gotten for him.

   “Oh… this is perfect,” he whispers, not sure how his bumbling efforts of explanations enabled her to find exactly what he’d envisioned.

   “Excellent! I had a feeling you’d like it. But just so you know, if you keep the receipt, you can exchange it if your girl doesn’t like it.”

   He pays for the gift while she wraps it for him, in what has to be the most beautiful package he’s ever seen, and before he leaves, he throws one last glance at the crystal teddy, glinting at him from the back half of the store.

   “Next time. Definitely.”

THE END

[joelslegalwhre]

! this isn't sorted by character, sorry I'm lazy.. :')!

istg I'm the most confused girlie out there and I forget about my #want to read tag all the time, so this tbr shelf can be not only mine but your place to find new fics if you see anything you think sounds good!👀

If you decide to read a fic (any fic) don't forget to leave the author a reblog or comment! Supporting the creators is to show them love!💜

your heart, a sonnet - Author!Joel Miller x F!Reader by @kedsandtubesocks

incomplete - Ezra x gn!reader by @alwaysmicado

butterscotch orange - frankie morales x f!reader by @undercoverpena

waiting game - dbf!Joel x Reader by @gutsby

hating game - dbf!Joel x Reader by @gutsby

chamomile - Dieter Bravo x f!reader by @tightjeansjavi

i wonder if you stopped his world like you did mine - frankie morales x f!reader by @chronically-ghosted

meet me in the back - sleazy gas station clerk!joel x fem!reader by @atticrissfinch

i didn’t know you smoked - steven grant x reader by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

best of both worlds - mando x f!reader by @thefrogdalorian

do the right thing - Postoutbreak! Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader by @joelsgreys

the sweepstakes series - porn star!pedro boys x f!reader by @katareyoudrilling (her whole masterlist tbh)

sex on fire - ceo!joel x f!reader by @macfrog

are you ever dreaming of me - dave york x f!reader by bestie @janaispunk

From Eden - AU Pirate!Joel Miller x Mermaid f!Reader by @tightjeansjavi (her whole masterlist bc Gi's writing is amazing😭)

know better - daddy!marcus pike x fem!reader by @ezrasbirdie

Divide my legs like a mathematician - Dbf!Joel x virgin!reader by @joelmillerisapunk

You wanted this masterlist - fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader by @alwaysmicado

iron and charcoal - pero tovar x f!reader by @chronically-ghosted

The Outlaws - Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader by @mothandpidgeon

buckles and barley (masterlist) - Rancher! Jack Daniels x Ranchhand! Reader by @penvisions

For The Love Of Horror - Dieter Bravo x Horror Lover by @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist

Daddy Travel Diaries (masterlist) - Soft daddy!Joel Miller x f!reader by @joelmillerisapunk

Moving Day - dbf!joel x f!reader by @medellintangerine

Light The Flame - mbf! Joel Miller x F! Reader by @yeollie-plz

I'll update this list as I find new fics I want to read, and remove fics I've already read. But don't worry, I'll post a monthly fic rec list starting in february, where you can find all my "already read" fics from this list! <3

main masterlist

[wardenparker]

Sassenach and the Spaniard - ch 5

Pero Tovar x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Delirious with sickness and near to death, Pero Tovar finds himself on the doorstep of a village outsider who nurses him back to health just before the winter snows descend. With a black cat for company, a mask on her face, and a biting wit that intrigues him, Pero comes to find out that his new companion is more than what she seems.  ✨  Inspired and influenced by Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. ✨ Reader is described as disabled and having hair long enough to cover part of her face.

Rating: Explicit!  Word Count: 15k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this fic include cursing, food mentions, references to previous sexual assault (multiple characters).** Masturbation (m and f), accidental exhibitionism, nudity, hair pulling, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, biting, vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Confessions! And a little something at the end that I won’t spoil 👀✨ Summary: A heavy storm locks you inside the cabin with Pero, but there is no shortage of pleasurable ways with which you can pass the time. Notes: Thanks to everyone for your kind words last week, I’m feeling much better and powering ahead in life and in creativity. Remember how we said last chapter that it was about the yearning and the tension? Well, the wait did *not* last long!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

Finding sleep is difficult with so much on your mind, but the old trick of basically lying still with your eyes closed and pretending to be asleep until you actually get there usually works for you, so you've been lying in bed under two blankets and the new hide trying desperately to fall asleep for what is probably an hour by now. It's much colder tonight than it has been and the snow is coming in sheets outside. The wind whips but doesn't come through the cracks in the window quite as much since Pero stuffed the open spaces with moss last week, but even thinking his name makes you wish you could just fall asleep already. He's barely four feet away in front of the fire and he's still all you can think about. If only you could just drift off...

You have been quiet for a long time, surely you must be asleep. Pero has lain quietly, willing you to sleep so he can take care of the incredible need he has. Since the conversations he had earlier, all he can think about is you – under him, taking him. Quietly, he reaches under the blankets you provided and unlaces his breaches and pulling his throbbing cock out, a small groan escaping his lips.

You barely manage to keep your eyes from popping open when you hear it, instead squeezing them even more tightly shut. That sound is unmistakable, but you can't believe you're hearing it in this space. Is he...? You swallow the lump in your throat and stay silent as the grave so as not to let him know that you're awake. Whatever does or does not happen between you, you don't need the awkwardness of him finding out that you have heard him.

He wants it wetter, imagining your cunt around his cock. you are still quiet and so he lets go of his cock, reach up so he can spit in his hand. Hissing when he wraps his hand around his cock again, he starts stroking himself a bit more eagerly.

Hearing him spit in his hand nearly makes you groan. Honest desire is about the sexiest thing in the world and the slick sound of his hand around his cock is going straight to your cunt as you listen with your eyes tightly closed.

It the low light of the night, the embers barely making a shadow over the walls. Soon he will have to build it back up, but for now, in the relative darkness – he whispers your name. Not Sassenach, the one you had murmured to him only once before. The one he had tucked into his heart and committed to memory the moment he discovered it was your scar that he bore. He whispers it to the dark as he works his hand up and down his length.

Did he just? Your eyes snap open but thankfully you’re facing away - facing the wall to be precise - and he can’t see your face. He’s thinking about you while he jerks off? Holy fucking shit…

He continues to work himself, thinking about the things that both drive him crazy and delights him about you. Which seems to be every damn thing that you do. Imagining using his mouth on you like you had talked about and hearing you cry out his name in your sweet voice... Pero groans your name again, closing his eyes.

The sounds he makes. God you could die a happy, horny woman in this moment. Instead of dying, though, you mentally throw up your hands and allow yourself to revel in it – snaking your own hand silently down to your now aching pussy. Dipping your fingertips in your dripping hole gets them plenty slick enough to rub your clit in time with the sound of his self-pleasure.

It's wrong, so very wrong. To be jerking off on your floor while he murmurs your name after you have given him a place to stay. Offered him a life that he still couldn't imagine. Still he cannot stop, rocking his hips up into his hand, hisses as he tightens his grip.

Not a sound comes from your bed even as your mouth hangs open, fingers rubbing your clit almost feverishly as he ramps up his own efforts on himself. There isn’t a hint of guilt, since you know he’s thinking of you, but there is a nagging and intense curiosity. You’re desperate to know what he feels like now that you know how he sounds.

“Mierda.” He grunts quietly, the pressure building, and he feels way that his balls are pulling up tight to his body. The scrap of a cloth he had snatched from your sewing basket is what he uses, covering his cock while he spurts ropes of cum into it. Moaning quietly through gritted teeth.

Listening to him moan and grunt through his end is gorgeous. It makes your whole body clench in the best way and just a second later your own orgasm is heralded by a tightness and tingling in your core right before the floodgates open. The blood in your ears is pounding so hard that you don’t hear the way you choke on your breath slightly – the only sound to slip past your lips.

Pero freezes, his ears straining to hear any other sounds from your bed. Praying to God that you have not woken up and heard him.

Sleep is nearly instantaneous and so wonderfully sweet that you barely pull your fingers from between your thighs before drifting off. All you can hope is that your dreams will be more of the same.

The soft snore that comes from you makes him relax. Cleaning himself up quickly, he tucks his cock as and crawls over to the wood to put more on the coals. The temperature has dropped and still plunging lower, he wants to make sure you are warm.

******

You wake up before he does in the morning, sneaking around to stoke the fire against the dip the temperature took last night and getting the morning pot of porridge on the fire before going into your stores to find the last of the fresh rosemary that has not quite dried yet. The strong scent will mask the smell of cum on your fingers until you can have a proper bath and wash everything away.

He groans quietly, burrowed into his blanket and curled in on himself. It had gotten cold last night, but he didn’t want to burn too much wood, so he had just toughed it out.

Feeling a little too affectionately toward him to tease this morning, you let Pero wake in his own time. When he is finally starting to sit up breakfast is almost ready, and you have been sitting and petting Binx since almost the second you got dressed. The storm is still raging – there will be no walks or leisure outside at all today.

“Mierda.” Pero hisses with a shiver as he climbs to his feet and moves towards the fire. “It has gotten cold.” He huffs.

“We have nothing to do but stay inside today,” you tell him, motioning toward the cottage’s few windows. “The snow is fierce and heavy.”

“That is good for us.” He insists. “We will melt the snow for the bath. And since there is nothing to do, you can linger as long as you like.”

“You could have one too, if you wanted.” The part of you that touched yourself to the sounds of his self-pleasure wants to offer to share the bath, or maybe throw your legs open in the water and let him watch how you touch yourself. Anything to find out if last night was sincere or just a fluke.

"I will bathe after you do." It's practical, using the same water. And it's not intimate, at least it wasn't before now. He has had to share water in public bath houses many times. Right now, though, even if he had jerked off just hours ago before he slept, his cock twitches at the thought of your naked body soft and wet.

“Good then.” What else is there really to say? You have a near-perfect visual in your head for how he will look in the bath since you stripped and washed him while he was sick. You may not remember the exact shade of golden skin that lies under his clothing, but you certainly remember how thick his cock is.

The tension that was there yesterday is still hanging in the air. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but it’s there. Heavy and thick. He groans again, stretching the sleep away from his limbs as he tries to tell himself that he’s imagining things.

Don’t react to that sound, you tell yourself sternly, but end up biting your lip despite yourself. Today is going to be just impossible – all because he doesn’t know that you want to drag him into your bed and show him exactly how good things can be.

Pero relaxes slightly and hums. “As the snow builds, the cottage will be more insulated.” He offers, shivering slightly. “But the next two days are going to be bitterly cold.”

“We will do what we must.” The fleeting thought of having him in your bed crashes through your mind again, but you tamp it down as best as you can. “Snow can be made into hot drinks as much as we need.”

“It will be made into your bath.” He reminds you. “I will collect it to get to the horse and your chicken.”

“I will be a much better smelling companion in a little while’s time,” you joke, trying to stop your mind from immediately making every single thing he says into something suggestive. The thought of washing your hair, though? That does make you sigh happily.

“You are always sweet smelling.” Pero blurts out before he can even think to stop himself. The scent of sweet herbs clings to you as well as something he can’t quite identify. It had driven him crazy over the weeks and he wants to burrow his nose against your skin and drink your scent in until it’s etched into his memory.

“You flatter me.” And because of that you really just can’t make goddamn eye contact with him this morning. It’s not knowing that he jerked off thinking about you that makes you shy, of course not. It’s the same damn compliment you would get for using literally any Bath & Body Works product.

“I tell the truth.” He huffs, rolling his eyes slightly. “Used to smelling sweaty men and horse shit.” He grins. “You smell like flowers and something spicy.”

“The truth can still be flattery.” You point out, trying not to look too pleased. The soap blend you use is one that you made yourself to avoid the horrible lye soaps of the time. “Come…we should break our fast.”

Nodding, he follows you over to the table and sits down. He watches when you lean over to spoon up the porridge. "You should tie your hair back." He murmurs. "It will be easier for you."

“I—” Keeping your hair over your eye has been habit the entire time he has been with you, even while you wore the mask. The idea of protecting him from being forced to look at your shared scar had dug into your mind very deeply. “I will wear the mask, then,” you murmur, setting the pot down on the table.

"Why?" He doesn't know why you are hiding from him, but he knows that is what you are doing. Reaching out when you go to move away, he captures your hand gently and tugs you back. "Why do you hide yourself?"

Claiming that you aren’t would be a fairly useless lie, and you end up sighing quietly. “It is bad enough that I have forced you to live with this,” you say finally, motioning to your useless eye and the scar across it. “I would not force you to look on it day and night.”

Pero scoffs, rolling his eyes and tugging on your hand again to have you look at him as he stands. Reaching up, he brushes your hair back and his thumb traces the bottom of the scar gently, feeling the mottled skin that is echoed on his own face. "Mirar a una mujer hermosa no es una dificultad." Looking at a beautiful woman is not a difficulty He murmurs in his own tongue. "It is a mark of courage and will to survive."

You really could just fucking break down and cry right there, but yesterday was full of too many tears and he didn’t seem to react well to them, so you hang on to composure with all of your might despite the riotous way your heart is beating. A small nod against his hand is the best gesture you can offer that doesn’t seem overactive, but it’s also not big enough. Not enough to say thank you for the permission to just exist that he has given you which you never give yourself. For something ‘big enough’, your body seems to act all on its own – leaning forward to press a kiss to his marred cheek before you can stop yourself.

For a man who has lived through what he has, seen what he has, he's stunned. Rooted to the spot right where he stands by a simple kiss. Especially since he has had much more involved ones with you. This one is one of thanks, for what he doesn't know, but it makes him burn. He stands there for a long moment before he turns and moves over to the table where he had been working on the hides, picking up a leather string to give to you. To tie your hair back. "Show your strength proudly, hermosa."

******

The morning moves easily after that. The tension between you doesn’t rise but it never dissipates, smiles and flirtatious remarks punctuating your time together instead of loaded sexual comments. He calls you hermosa twice more and you swear you could melt, feeling like you’ve hit schoolgirl crush levels of giddiness without trying.

When Pero opens the door, the snow is knee high. Making him click his tongue and huff as he grabs the buckets you have. It will be difficult to break the path between the cottage and the barn, but it is better to do it now than when the snow is higher. "Get your kettle ready.” He warns as he looks over his shoulder.

“We can fill the cauldron as well.” The suggestion almost makes you grin. Even after years, you still love the aesthetic of brewing in a cauldron. “You can see your bruja at work.”

He huffs and shakes his head. "If you can turn water into wine, I will get on my knees for you." He teases as he closes the door.

“Guess I should try.” Grinning at the closed door, you shake your head as you move around the cottage. “It might be worth it.”

Bucket after bucket is brought back into the cottage as he works. Gathering several at a time before he opens the door, knowing that every time he is letting more cold into the room. Although the fire is roaring, he does not wish for you to be more uncomfortable than you need to be, finding the buckets empty when he goes to trade them as you start to fill your kettle and cauldron with the quickly melting snow.

The bathtub is much larger than it looks, you find quickly. Every cauldron of water that heats to steaming is poured in so that the great, heavy pot can be refilled with snow, and you find yourself longing for a bubble bath with a glass of scotch and a romance novel before the thing is half full. It will feel like heaven to be clean again – truly clean – and you’re so grateful that he was able to catch that second deer. To trade it for something as luxurious as a bathtub is extravagant, but fuck is it going to feel good. Some dried flower buds go in, perfuming the water with scents that would not taste good but smell wonderful, and you sigh happily. This might be the first snowstorm you’ve enjoyed in years.

Pero pants, working in the snow as he finally reaches the barn. He is sweating, can feel the heat warm his body even as the extremities are colder. He will check on the animals and gather more wood to bring inside along with the snow. Eager to sit in a hot bath with the fire roaring and even more, he would like to catch a glimpse of you at your bath.

******

It’s almost another hour before Pero returns, and you had decided that undressing and getting into the bath before he returned would be gentler to both of you than having to shield him from a striptease inside the small cottage. The clean set of clothes from your trunk is laid out in the edge of your bed and Binx is snoozing away in the spot of winter sun illuminating your worktable, making the whole place quite tranquil when he opens the door one last time to come back inside for good.

Bare shoulders are the first thing that he sees when he walks into the cottage, immediately making his eyes widen before he realizes he should look away. That he should give you privacy. It makes him turn his back slowly, dragging his gaze away as he slides the bar back down over the door. While he did not worry about man bursting in, the wind could blow the door open and send icy snow inside, so it was best to have it barricaded.

“How are the animals?” Treating it as conversationally as if you were sitting doing any random chore, you take the wash rag – a new one, you couldn’t find your old one with your sewing things – from the side of the tub and begin to wash your legs under the water.

"They are fine, I broke the ice on the water trough and made sure there was plenty of hay." He chuckles. "Your hen was sitting on the horse's back." He moves towards the bedding that had been moved so the tub could sit in the warmest spot.

“Karen is fond of softness and warmth.” It’s the dumbest possible name for a hen, but the plume on the bird’s head had reminded you of the infamous Karen haircut and it made you laugh to scold the creature when she clucked at you as if you could possibly have a manager. “I will not take much longer. And there is a new cauldron of snow heating to make your bath hot.”

"Take your time." Pero insists. "I am not in a rush. Linger and enjoy it." He can hear the splashing and imagines your wet form, closing his eyes slightly as he tries to determine what your tits would look like bare. "It is a long day and we have all of it."

“Some of the salted venison is in a bowl of snow to become dinner tonight,” you tell him, still going about washing yourself fairly efficiently despite being told to take your time. “I thought to roast it in a way you might not have eaten before. You may like it, since you like spice.” It isn’t as though you’re trying to seduce him with a romantic meal – something that seems both unnecessary and a little odd under the circumstances – but you wanted to do something nice for him since he worked hard to get you this tub. “A year ago a merchant from Calabria came through with foods from his homeland and he had spicy peppers with him, so I bought as many as I possibly could. There are still a few left.”

Pero grunts and practically licks his lips at the prospect of a spicy meal. "I am sure it will be warming." He has to tell himself not to look over his shoulder at you, sitting in the tub and scrubbing at your skin. "We will warm some ale to go with it."

“Actually…” you glance over your own shoulder only to see the very deliberate way he is facing away from you with tight shoulders, like he’s having to force himself to behave. You nearly snicker, but keep it to yourself. “And you ever had truly cold ale? I know it will not fight the cold, but it is delicious.”

"I have not." He frowns slightly at the idea of cold ale. "It would be better when it is hot outside, no?"

“Yes.” A cold beer at a concert even during a Florida summer was a thing of beauty and it makes you sigh wistfully. “But sometimes just having something delicious is enough.”

"Then I will put the ale outside in the snow." You seem to want it, and he is finding that it is hard to deny you things that you want. He moves over to take the small cask off the table under the window to do just that.

“Thank you for indulging me.” It’s bitter cold for just a moment while he nestles the ale in a snowbank but he is back again in no time and the door is barred once more.

He chuckles quietly, keeping his dirty thoughts to himself about how else he could indulge you. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the fire as he creeps closer to it in order to throw some more logs on the fire and build back up the warmth for you.

“Be careful,” you bite back a giggle seeing how aggressively he is not looking anywhere near you. “One of us has already lost half their sight. You should not sacrifice yours too.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes, hearing your teasing tone. "Would you rather I stare?" He asks, as he stokes the fire and feeds it. "Make you uncomfortable?"

“I…” It’s definitely not going to make you uncomfortable. Horny, maybe. But not uncomfortable. “You are allowed to look at me, Pero.” You’re probably digging your libido’s grave, but so be it. After last night, you’re not about to deny him.

"When you are dressed." He huffs, trying not to turn his head to look at you. "Not while you are in your bath and vulnerable."

The smile that brings to your lips is small and shy – not disappointed at all. More like…impressed. “There is more than one way to be a good man, cariño. I will remind you of this next time you claim to be otherwise.”

His shoulders round slightly, flustered at the praise. And especially the endearment. “You are my soulmate.” He grunts after a moment, as if it explains all.

“Yes.” You hum, dipping your head back into the water to speak your hair. “Thank goodness.”

“You—” His head whips around to face you and catches an eyeful of your tits pushed high as you wet your hair. “Mierda.” He hisses and looks quickly back at the fire. “You are pleased I am your soulmate?” He asks, completely puzzled to why you would be thankful that you are soulmates.

“Pero…” You giggle a little at his reaction, finding it just fully amusing that he’s being so virtuous when last night he was moaning your name. “I trusted you enough to tell you my story after only a few days. And then I asked you to come back with me. I would not have done that if I—” If I didn’t have feelings for you. “If I did not think so well of you.”

He feels guilty. Guilty that he had tugged on his cock and whispered your name in the dark. Guilty that he cannot help the way his cock twitches and hardens while you are bathing, bathing. It should not make him burn as badly as it does. Gulping, he nods, trying to find the words to respond to that. "I think of you— well." He manages.

The part of you that is truly a ball buster wants to tell him that you know exactly how well, but that would only spoil the moment. “I am glad.” Is what you tell him instead, and simply reach for your soap to wash your hair.

The silence isn't heavy, but it falls between the two of you. The only sounds the very intimate ones of your bath. Pero bites his lip, hot from the fire and from the heat of his attraction but he does not move a fraction of an inch away from the small groans you give as you lather your hair.

The water is nearly cold by the time you reach over the side of the bath for the length of cloth you use as a towel. Your fingers are pruned and you’ve scrubbed every inch of your skin, giving you the most satisfying clean you’ve felt in…years, probably. “I’m getting out.” You tell him, wondering if he’ll continue to avert his eyes, and figuring he deserves the respect of a warning if he is trying to be respectful.

"Okay." Pero croaks out, biting his lip as he sees you stand out of the corner of his eye. Why had he thought he could be in the same cottage as you while you bathe? He huffs and tries to get a grip on himself, feeling his cock hardening.

It isn’t difficult to maneuver around him, wrapping yourself up in your towel and drying off just enough that you won’t soak through your chemise when you pull it over your head. Years of changing in large tents at summer camp or in gym locker rooms has helped you know how to do this quickly and easily, but that doesn’t mean you don’t thoroughly enjoy the way he’s struggling with his thread of self-control as you tie yourself into your stockings and stays, and then pull on the woolen tunic dress that keeps you properly clothed. You know you’ll be struggling just as hard once he’s the one who is naked, but for now it’s a nice little boost to your ego to know he wants you.

Shuffling to his feet, Pero can't hide the tent in his breeches as he moves to draw out a few buckets of water to reheat and add the water that is still in the cauldron to heat the bath back up. Giving him something to do that isn't staring at you.

“Take your time and enjoy.” His one spare set of clothes that had been protected in his saddle bags is out and ready for him and you set yourself down at your worktable to begin preparing supper. “As you say, we have plenty of time.”

He knows that, but he still spends more time heating up water than he needs to. Trying to give his body a chance to calm down but like the traitorous thing that it is, it does not. His cock strains against his breeches still when the steam curls up from the tub and it is probably hotter than he should have made it. Leaving him no option but to start stripping down.

You should be fine. The man was naked and unconscious for you-can’t-remember how long when he came to you and you stripped and washed him. You should be fine. But he was ill then, racked with it, and despite thinking he was well built you had forced yourself to ignore the rest. Since then? Since then you have been fully pressed against that body, and despite there having been clothing in the way those times you had imagined so much from it. The strength and breadth of him is undeniable — and puts him squarely in the category of full fucking three course meal as far as your attraction goes. So you did not need to accidentally glance up from your knife right as he was starting to unlace his breeches. No. No you definitely didn’t need the extra focus that it brought to the tented fabric. Jesus Christ he’s going to be the death of you, you think as you try not to squirm.

Pero has no issue with his nudity, he is not a prudish man. However, he is embarrassed that he is fully hard and unable to make it soften as he pulls his breeches down and steps out of them. His cock bobs as he moves, tenting his loose linen shirt before he is pulling it over his head to drop down onto the other clothes.

He was polite and respectful and didn’t leer, and you know you shouldn’t either. You know you shouldn’t. But the one tiny glimpse you get of Pero getting into the bath is unintentionally perfectly timed to give you a glimpse of his fully hard cock and you genuinely might just melt into the floor. It’s an utter miracle that you don’t make a sound, but you immediately avert your eye back to the mushrooms you were cutting. Do not imagine riding him in that tub. Do not do it…

Pero groans and hisses as he lowers himself into the tub, having to cup his cock and balls to keep from settling into the hot water too quickly for the sensitive flesh. Groaning again when he gets settled and can lean back in the hot water to relax. The perfumed water smells like you and it doesn't help the state of his aching cock.

“Bueno?” You have to clear your throat slightly, but the question comes out evenly enough.

"Bueno." Pero rasps out, leaning his head back to hang between his shoulder blades as his arms perch on the sides of the tub.

“It is a luxury.” From where you are sitting, all you can see is what is above the rim of the tub and you smile softly at his blissful expression. “But one we have now, thanks to you.”

"Worth giving up the meat and hide." He groans, feeling his muscles relax and his eyes close as he soaks.

"It will be good for you." With all the physical labor necessary in this time, a hot bath to let the tension out of his muscles is a very good thing from time to time. "Every time it snows, we will celebrate with a bath."

He chuckles and rolls his head over to look at the white out window. "We will stay very clean this winter I think." He jokes, settling a bit deeper in the water and groaning again. "Mierda."

"So much the better for us." You hum, returning to your work. "We will be the best smelling and cleanest outcasts the village has ever seen."

He huffs and shakes his head. "They are the ones that suffer from casting you aside, hermosa." Pero tells you, turning his head to look over at you at the table.

"I am grateful for the friendship of the few people that I care most about." Having Arwena be less afraid to come and see you has warmed your heart and made you miss Beth, seeing some undeniable similarities between the teenager and your best friend back home.

"You have friends back in your time?" He asks curiously. "People who will be missing your presence? Worrying about you?" He wants to know if you have a lover you left behind, but it is none of his business.

"Well, I can't say for sure what they're thinking or feeling, but...I think so." Laying down your knife again, you look at him curiously, trying to figure out what he's really asking. "I have a best friend. So close that I call her sister. A few friends at the place where I work. My family lives far away, but I try to see them once a year."

The idea of women living far from their parents without being wed is strange to him but he doesn't comment on it. Instead he watches as you carefully cut up the vegetables that you have in front of you. "My mother would have liked you." He murmurs. He smiles as he imagines his mother's reaction to having a soulmate like you.

"Oh?" Smiling curls the corners of your lips and you can feel your cheeks heat despite the chill outside. "My parents would like you, too."

He snorts and shakes his head. "No man likes the man his daughter sleeps with." He drolls, remembering the moaning of men in all the taverns he had visited, drowning their sorrows over their daughters leaving home.

"Then I guess you still have time before he'll hate you." You quip, shooting him a teasing smirk.

He flushes slightly, when he realizes how you took that comment. His cock twitching below the water and breaking the surface. "How much of a time difference is there between us?" He asks, suddenly needing to know.

"Um..." The question makes you cringe, not knowing how he will process it all. It is such a large difference. "I will not be born for almost one thousand years."

"Fuck." Pero blows out a breath and tries to imagine that amount of time. "So you obviously prefer older men." He grunts out.

The fit of giggles that pulls out of you is fully unexpected, but it's so very much a joke that Beth would make that you get a big extra laugh out of how little people have really changed over so much time. "I do, actually, but usually not this much older. I've made an exception for you."

"Why?" That is the question that has nagged at him. Eaten away at his thoughts. You are from a different time, a better time. Why would you choose him. "Is it because we wear the same marks?"

"Because—" His confusion definitely sticks a pin in your laughter, and you tilt your head at him slightly. "Because despite the two of us being so very far apart in time and space, we're still so similar." You tell him, when you can finally wrap your head around the thoughts you're trying to express. "We are stubborn, and passionate, and caring in similar ways. We have the same sense of humor and we love to tease each other. We fight but never end the day angry. We disagree but never let it stand in the way of sitting down to supper with smiles on our faces. You are such a good man but not in the ways you think you should be and so you won't ever believe it, just like I will never believe that I could deserve to be loved in the way I desperately want to be. Just because we were born a thousand years apart does not mean that we are any different as people. It...it might actually prove that people have always been the same in their hearts." You shake your head slightly, feeling the tightly wrapped hold he has on your heart as surely as you draw breath. "It is not because we wear the same marks, that I feel so strongly. But perhaps it helped me to admit it to myself more quickly than I would have otherwise."

"You deserve more than me." Pero admits, lifting a hand to silence you when you frown and open your mouth. "You do deserve more than what I can give you, that what any man can give you." He insists. "You are kind when you have every reason to be spiteful and cruel. You are giving when you should be selfish. You are strong and stubborn and yet you have a grace and goodness that cannot be taught, it is ingrained in your very soul." He takes a deep breath. "I am not worthy of a soulmate like you, but I am selfish enough that I will hold on tight to the gift I am given."

"I hope you do." Though neither of you are ready to say the words, the air around you hangs heavy with their meaning. For two people who were strangers bare weeks ago, you have come together so easily that you truly are certain that the universe was correct in putting you together. "Whatever ideas of our own worthiness we have, only you can determine what is right for you, and only I can know what is right for me. It just...is fortunate that we seem to agree with the universe's decision."

He smirks and shakes his head, lifting a brow as he looks around the cottage and then up at the roof. "It isn't like we have much of a choice right now." He teases. "You would have starved, and I would have frozen to death." He gives a shrug and sinks into the tub deeper. "Now you are warm and your belly is full and you can soak in a tub of hot water." He sends you a playful wink. "We apparently work well together."

"You would have been dead long before the first frost if not for me." Clicking your tongue at him is just playful teasing, but you do have to admit now that the idea of losing him tears at you in a way that you cannot articulate. "But I am glad that it was my cottage you happened upon and not anyone else's."

"I am too." He admits fondly, readily admitting that you had saved his life. "Even if you tried to poison me with that foul brew."

You snort, shaking your head at him as you pick your knife back up and go back to work. "Tease me about it more and I will make you drink it again," you warn, though the threat is entirely empty.

“Bleh.” Pero grimaces and shakes his head. “I will pass.” He picks up the soap that you had left by the tub and starts working up a lather with it to scrub his body clean.

Silence falls again, as he washes and you work, and before long you are setting a pot of venison, parsnips, mushrooms, carrots, and chilis on the fire to stew. It will be enough for multiple days, but this is something that you are certain he is going to like so you have put plenty of confidence into it. "That will take some hours," you tell him, trying not to peak at him in the bath. "But it will smell divine."

“What do you do while you wait?” He asks, sluicing off the soap from his skin and reaching for the bucket to wet his hair. “When you were alone before?”

"Talk to Binx. Perhaps sing to her. Sketch, if I have a spare surface." Paper is expensive in this time, but sometimes stretches of canvas or planks of wood have been surface for your mediocre artwork.

“What do you want to do now?” He asks, soaping up his hair to scrub clean. After doing that, he will trim the hair on his face again.

The honest answer to that is still ride him in the bath, but you shrug as innocently as you can and reach for the kettle of hot water which will make both of you hot cups of lavender tea. "I do not mind," you admit quietly. "We could sit in silence and I would still enjoy being next to you."

“It is going to be colder tonight.” Pero hums. Finding the weather to be a good topic is boring, but it’s safe. “We might have to stuff rags under the door.”

"We might." The suggestion sticks in your throat, wondering what he might think of you being so forward in a world where women are expected to submit and obey. At its core, though, you're really just thinking practically – even if it does have a few fringe benefits that you would both enjoy. "Or we could use your mattress to block the cold...and we could share the bed?"

Pero drops the soap into the water. “Shit.” He hisses, scrambling to find it. “That— that would be— uh, yes.” He nods, not wanting to sound like an idiot and failing miserably. “Warm. We would be warm.”

"More blankets and body heat." You nod, as though no other reason had ever crossed your mind. "And I know it will be more comfortable for you."

It sounds so innocent when he is anything but. “I should not.” He groans, dropping the soap that he finally locates into the side of the tub and slides down to dunk his hair. His still hard cock lifts out of the water as he moves. “I will be awake all night. Disturbing you.”

"What is the harm in lying awake sometimes?" Lifting your head to look at him is terrible timing, as the water moves and reveals the fact that he is still painfully aroused in the bath. Good lord he's thick... "I—it...doesn't..." your mind has suddenly gone totally blank and you shake your head like a wet dog. "It does no harm. The worst thing that happens is that we sleep late tomorrow."

Sitting up again, Pero groans, wondering why you cannot just let him freeze. The price of being cold is a small one to pay instead of admitting he would be rock hard all night and itching to sink into your body, burrow into your skin and just stay there. "I am a man..." he offers weakly.

“Yes…” You’re about to say that you don’t see the big deal since you’re both adults, but then it hits your thick skull that that is exactly why it is a big deal. You might not have a problem lusting over him because you know he reciprocates – but he is still worried about offending you. “If you would not be comfortable, I understand.”

He sighs, hating how you phrased it. Growling at the way you are pulling this out of him. “I ache.” He hisses, standing up in the water and revealing the heavy length of his hard cock jutting out from his groin, standing proud. His scowl is defiant and embarrassed. “How can I share a bed with you and not touch you? When this is my state just by being around you?”

Full-on confessional was not where you expected him to go in this moment, but you do appreciate his honesty first and foremost. It takes you longer than you are proud of to tear your eyes away from the sight he has shown you, but you manage it, lust curling around something heavier and more meaningful in your belly. “Why can you not touch me? When was that law set down?” You challenge, wondering if he has some kind of rule in this mind about your imagined virtuousness.

Pero inhales sharply, cock twitching again and he growls under his breath, low and pained. “You— our— when we…talked.” He manages, water dripping down his body and he sloshes slightly as he steps out in front of the fire, making no pretense to cover himself since he has already bared all to you. You are not screaming or banishing him outside. “You did not tell me I could.”

“Forgive me, then. I should have been more plain.” Getting up to hand him cloth to dry with, you swallow the thick wanting in your throat and force yourself to meet his eyes and nothing else. “If you lay beside me tonight and are consumed by passion once more, please understand that I am in a similar state. Quiero que me toques, Pero.” I want you to touch me.

Pero's eyes are hot, liquid pools of desire and his breathing is stuttered in his chest. He wants to touch you now. Nighttime is too far away for his liking. Instead of taking the cloth, he grabs your wrist and drags you closer. "We are clean." He ventures, water still dripping out of his hair.

“And wet.” There’s still an abundance of your modern, dirty sense of humour in you, and the double entendre slips from you before you can even stop it, making you grin. “If I take you to bed now, we will dampen everything and make it freezing for ourselves tonight.” There is not, of course, any reason things can only happen in a bed, and you press in a little closer to him - as close as you can with him still dripping water onto your clean, dry dress.

He grunts, knowing that is true and he looks around the cabin, slightly frustrated that this is happening while both of you are wet. "Then we will dry off." He decides, reaching up and taking a handful of your wet hair and wrapping it around his hand. "Then I will touch you until you tell me no."

From the look on his face, he was not expecting you to moan when he tugged unexpectedly on your hair. The casual show of strength shoots right to your core, and you let your head drop back as if by command, biting your lip to keep from embarrassing yourself by whimpering. Hair pulling has always been a turn on for you, and it’s been so fucking long since anyone did it.

Hissing, he feels like he's about to cum right now, the urge to flip you over you and pull your skirts up so he can sink into you is nearly overwhelming. His hand tightens in your hair again and he's rewarded with another little moan, not as loud but it shoots straight to his cock. "Mierda." He pants, looking down at your tits as they heave. "You are— you like that?"

“Yes.” You narrowly avoid the urge to add sir to the thought, not wanting to overwhelm the moment with too much new information that he might have trouble wrapping his head around.

He growls, dragging you closer and fusing his lips to your desperately. Needing to touch you in some way. The need is as mutual as it is immediate, and you open up for him without hesitation. A kiss with the promise of more has you wrapping your arms around him without a single further thought for getting wet. At this point your aching pussy feels like it's dripping down your legs anyway, so who cares?

Pero plunders your mouth, his aching cock pressing against your belly through the material of your dress. Kissing and panting into your mouth for long minutes before he remembers that you are dressed and he is still wet. He has to take your shoulders and physically push you back because he cannot pull away. "Take off your dress." He orders you roughly.

The heat of the fire keeps the room warm but you swear that the heat rolling off the two of you rivals it right now. Pulling your tunic over your head takes no time, but the stays you just laced are slightly more stubborn. Loosening them just enough to pull those over your head too, the thin chemise that you wear close to your skin is effectively see through, giving him a moment to see you before you toss that aside to be naked again in the fire light.

He stands there, looking at you for a long moment, reaching up again and pushing your hair back behind your shoulder so you are not covering your face. Wanting to see all of you just as you are. "Hermosa."

Your bodies are littered with the proof that he has survived many battles and the few that have marked your own life. Bearing everything for him is easy in some ways, because he has seen every way your body has been marred already. But in others it is the most vulnerable you have ever been. Beyond any other attachment – he is your soulmate. If anyone is going to bring you to that place of breathless pleasure, it’s supposed to be him. And it’s supposed to make you inseparable. You just…you can only hope that that is true.

"I want—" He pauses, pressing his lips together for a moment before he starts again. "The things that you spoke of— the acts, I want to try them with you." He confesses, skin flushed and nearly scorching from his lust and the fire that crackles. "I want to see if it is as you say." He wants to explore you with his mouth, spread you out on the table and feast in the light from the hearth.

“All of them?” Clarification is for his sake, because you know that he is thinking of touching you already. That was said explicitly. But you wonder if he is even thinking clearly enough to want anything beyond just burying his cock inside you and cumming until your walls are covered in his seed. When there are other things – things he has not yet experienced – that he could also enjoy.

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows heavily, licking his lip and nodding. Peering into your eyes and wondering if you had been blustering for the younger ones when you had spoken of such things. "Whatever you will— it is your decision." He will be happy with your hand on his cock and allowing him to slide inside your heat. He is a simple man with even simpler ideas of pleasure, but he knows that you are expecting more.

“Good.” He is tense as a bow string in front of you, holding himself back with every ounce of restraint he has, and you lean in to kiss him once more before stepping back again. Only when he’s watching you with hungry eyes again do you sink down to your knees, knowing he needs relief much more than you do right now.

He forgets to breathe. Thoughts gone from his head as he watches with wide eyes. Your form sinking down and your smirk playful while you are inches from his cock. He reacts physically, stomach lurching and a small tremor rushes through his muscles as he realizes what you are going to do. “I— I’ve never—” he stammers, even though you know he’s never had a woman’s mouth on his cock. He told you that, but he tells you again.

“I know.” You remind him gently. As badly as you just want to reach out and greedily gulp him down, you don’t touch him yet. Not until he’s okay with what is about to happen. “Will you let me be the first?”

“Fuck. He whispers, nodding quickly, almost making his teeth rattle with how hard he is bobbling his head in agreement. “Anything you want.”

“If you don’t like something I do, tell me.” Is the last instruction you give him before leaning forward to lick up the precum leaking from the purple head of his cock.

The noise he makes. It’s loud, obscene as it echoes through his head. The wet heat of your mouth is shocking, although it shouldn’t be. Maybe it’s the fact that your tongue is pressing against the slit.

Inside your own head you’re giggling evilly, wondering how fast you can reduce this fearsome mercenary to his knees with just your tongue, but the first time is not for that. Instead you hum, pleased with his initial reaction, and reach up to steady yourself with one hand on his hip so the other can wrap around the base of his length as you sink down on him. While he isn’t overly long, he is thick, and you may not be able to take him all the way down your throat because of it. At least not this time – not when you’re out of practice.

Pero groans, his hand flying to the back of your head and he holds it there, certain that his knees are about to buckle. “María, madre de Dios.” He pants. Mary, Mother of God.

This time when you hum it’s around him, making the sound vibrate through his body and making his cock twitch heavily against your tongue. It’s stunning, the way something as simple as the way you swirl that muscle around the head of him before using it to trace every ridge and vein makes him sound like he’s going to collapse or explode - or both - and you love it. Working his rest of his throbbing length with your hand is easy given the way your spit and his precum is leaking from the corners of your mouth, but you’re not going to stop for anything. The bath water is right there: if you need to wash your face after, then that’s what you’ll do.

Another flick of your tongue and Pero is gone. His body tenses up and to his utter relief and mortification, he starts to cum. A gasp is all he can manage, not even giving you a warning before his seed is spilling down your throat.

You don’t mind that it happens quickly - in fact you were betting on it from how long he had been that hard and the fact that this was his first experience with oral sex. That was kind of the whole point of you going down on him first - so he can calm down a little and enjoy things more if he decides that he still wants to explore with you. You drink down every drop that you can but it is a big load, and a few drops escape the corners of your mouth despite your best efforts. Moaning happily around him, you can feel yourself practically dripping in the cottage floor, but you’ll wait until he’s ready. Even if he needs hours to recover mentally and physically, you’ll still wait. He’s worth that respect.

It was a hard decision, closing his eyes in complete surrender or watching as you drink down his cum. In the end, he watches you under heavy lidded eyes, panting and whining while you continue loving him with your mouth. Shuddering when the slight pressure becomes too much, and his hips pull back slightly.

Rocking back on your heels so you don’t fall forward, you pick up the strands of cum that your mouth couldn’t catch on your fingertips and lick them clean, looking up at him with curious eyes. “Was it what you thought, cariño?”

Pero grunts, shaking his head and reaching for you to drag you up to your feet. "No." He rasps out gruffly, pressing his lips to yours. "Better."

You practically giggle against the kiss, glad to hear him so enthusiastic about trying something new with you. “We can rest as long as you need, hermoso.”

He frowns and shakes his head, pulling back and searching your face. "You do not want me to do the same?" He asks, disappointed by the prospect of not being able to explore you and give you the same pleasure.

“Of course I do.” Gently, one of your hands leads his to the meeting of your thighs, letting him feel that the dampness coating your curls is not water. “But only when you are ready.”

He grunts, again and lifts a brow at you in suspicion. "What kind of men are from your time?" He huffs, fingers sliding through your curls as he turns you around to guide you back to the table. "When I first spoke of this – I was meaning putting my mouth on you."

“Men are as changeable as women,” you gasp slightly when one of his long fingers probes deeper inside you but make it over to the worktable without incident. “You may not know every word I speak, but you know more than many men in my time if you know that a woman can find pleasure in many ways.” The number of men you slept with who thought the clitoris was a myth was shameful.

"I want to learn." He breathes into your ear. "Hear your sweet cries and watch you pant in pleasure." His hand doesn't leave your wet cunt as you sit on the table and move back, giving him room to sit in front of you.

“Y-you should have looked to the bed last night, then.” You tell him, gasping and squirming slightly as your body cries out for much more than his first, gentle touches. “You would have seen much.”

"You were asleep." He grunts, guiding you to lean back and he spreads your thighs wide in front of him. The light from the fire is enough for him to see your cunt clearly and he groans when he sees the slickness coating your lips.

“I was faking.” The grin on your lips curls into a smirk when you see him utterly fixated on your dripping pussy. “Bringing myself pleasure while you moaned my name in the dark.”

Moaning in embarrassment, his face turns hotter than the fire. His eyes fluttering slightly and he huffs a curse under his breath. “You touched yourself to my sounds?”

“I could not resist.” Sitting up, you press kisses to his forehead, nose, and lips without pushing too much. There are plenty of men who don’t like to taste themselves. “Knowing you wanted me as much as I wanted you? Set me on fire.”

He growls and captures your lips again – kissing you and biting your bottom lip sharply before he pushes you back slightly. "Good." He grunts. "Now I want to see if you enjoy my mouth as much as I enjoyed yours."

“I can all but guarantee it,” you promise him, laying back on your worktable propped up on your elbows so you can watch every single moment of this. Your legs spread completely, giving him plenty of room to see and explore you even as his fingers have never stopped dancing over your aching slit.

“Tell me what you like.” He demands, spreading your lips apart while he looks his fill. You are more experienced in this than he is. He is not so proud that he would not learn from someone who can teach.

“I like to be explored.” It sounds like a line, probably, but with his fingers stroking your pussy as he studies you, you’re biting back whimpers at every turn. “When you have licked along every part of my pussy and I am begging you for more, then focus on this.” One of your hands draws his attention to your clit, swollen and already aching with need just from having him so close. “Lick it, suck on it, whichever you like better. But no teeth. I like pain with my pleasure but not in this.”

He listens carefully, nodding and studying your cunt like it the outline of a battle plan. “This is where you like your pleasure, not inside?” He asks, sliding a finger over your clit.

“Both.” The whimper that passes your lips when he touches you is downright pitiful. “If you curl your fingers inside me you’ll see how much.”

“I will.” His fingers are wet with you, sliding around the hole that flutters so prettily for him. Groaning slightly as he pushed two fingers into the first inch of your velvet walls, his eyes finding your face while he sinks them in deeper.

Part of the challenge, you can see right away, is going to be patience. Not letting your hips be insistent or searching for pleasure or pressure but letting him explore and rewarding him with those moans and whimpers and encouragements that show him what you like most. Expecting him to understand your body’s nonverbal cues would not be fair at all, and only end up frustrating you both. “That’s it,” you nod, sighing audibly when his fingers delve a little deeper. “Just like that.”

He likes that. Pero’s fingers push deeper at your encouragement, feeling the slickness on his rough fingers as if it were his cock. He loves the breathless tone and he wants to hear more. His other hand caresses your hips, sliding down over your mound and grinning as he moves through your curls to press his palm against your clit as he curls those fingers up.

“Ah! Fuck. Yes.” The dual sensations take you by surprise, having been too caught up in watching the smirk on his face to pay attention to his hands. Your head drops back for second and you whine, loving the thickness of his calloused fingers. “Feel that?” You ask him, feeling him experimentally press against your g-spot with his fingers and making your hips buck and squirm a little each time. “That feels so good for me.”

“There?” His brow furrows as he presses up against that spot and your hips buck up off the table and another curse falls from your lips. His growl of delight matches the nearly feral quality of his grin as he starts to focus on that spot as he pumps and curls his fingers.

“Fuck!” Keening with the intensity of his strokes, the heat in your body has nothing to do with the roaring fire and everything to do with the man between your legs. It’s been so long since anyone touched you besides yourself and Pero’s attention to detail is so startling, that you can feel the knot in your belly already start to tighten. “Oh god D-do you—think you can suck on my clit at the same time?” You would be begging in a rambling mess of incoherent words if you weren’t trying to so hard to stay focused and teach him, but fuck if he isn’t a quick study.

His palm comes away from your clit and his mouth descends. It’s awkward, his shoulder folding in so he can keep his fingers moving inside your cunt while his tongue flicks over your clit experimentally. You taste warm, tangy and musky. The notes of your soap and skin hit his tongue and he groans, pushing his face deeper into you as he takes your clit into his mouth.

It’s almost a pity that you’re climbing to your peak as quickly as you are, wanting to savor this feeling as long as possible, but your body is responding to his attention so earnestly that it only takes a minute or two more before you’re gasping out a warning and bearing down tightly on his fingers with a cry of his name that echoes in the little cottage.

Pero groans again, feeling the hot rush of liquid on his fingers. Letting go of your clit and starting to rub his tongue all over your lips and again over your clit, noticing that your hips buck up again when he does.

The point of overstimulation is almost beautiful considering it shows how eager he is, but you have to nudge his head away with a groan - one that ends up a giggle when he pouts at you fiercely. “You’re a natural,” you grin, chest still heaving as you try to get your breath back.

“You enjoyed it?” His fingers are still buried inside you, unable to slide them out from your still fluttering cunt. He loves the noises you made and he wants to hear them again.

“When I scream your name, it is a good sign.” He still looks so hungry that you shiver a little and push up on your elbow to see your own slick shimmering on his lips and chin in the firelight. “You want more, cariño?”

“Yes.” He’s not going to deny it, wanting to see you fall apart again. He’s always been a greedy man, wanting more and this is no exception. Especially when there is no time limit on this, no where he has to be than right here in the warmth of the cottage with you stretched out for him to feast on.

“Tell me what you want.” With snow outside and the only other occupant of the cottage – Binx – disappeared somewhere out of sight, you have no desire to do anything but let him explore you.

“Tell me what else you like.” He demands, curling his fingers up inside you again. His cock is still soft, but he knows he will be hard again soon, once he has recovered.

There’s a lot. You won’t deny that, knowing that you have a couple of kinks that could come out in the future but not wanting to give him too many new or ‘modern’ things all at once. Assuming that he knows that tits are a sensitive pleasure center all their own, you reach down and thread your fingers through his wet hair indulgently. “I like things a little rougher than other women. As you saw when you pulled my hair. There’s also places I like to be…bitten. Unless that sounds too odd to you. We can go to bed, and I can show you another way to lick my pussy if that is what you wish.”

He tilts his head curiously and looks down at your cunt again. “But not your cunt, correct?” He asks of the biting, remembering your earlier words.

“Correct.” It actually makes you grimace a little. “That could be like me biting your cock.”

He grunts and shakes his head, his fingers curling gently. “Don’t do that.” He asks. “I don’t want to hurt you, want you to feel pleasure.”

It’s been just long enough that the feeling of overstimulation has faded, and you hum softly when he starts to move his fingers inside you again. “I won’t ever hurt you intentionally,” you promise, knowing that humans are clumsy and accidents happen. You can’t swear never to hurt him, but you’ll do everything you can to avoid it.

“What else do you like?” There is something incredibly indulgent about talking with you while your naked and his fingers are moving inside you. “Tell me, hermosa.”

“There is—” It’s hard not to gasp with him slowly finger fucking you again, but you would never claim not to love it. “A way for us to lay together…where we can have our mouths on each other.”

Pero growls, eyes darkening in delight. “You will show me.” It’s not even a question, he knows you will.

"On the bed." You tell him, glad that you rightfully guessed he would immediately love the idea. "Always on the bed. For comfort."

He groans, not even wanting to pull his fingers away from you yet. His eyes watch you for another moment before he shakes his head. “After.” He huffs, leaning down again. “After you cry out again.”

He's going to be the death of you, you can tell already. The entire winter will be spent wrapped up in each other if Pero has his way and really, you would be lying if you claimed to be upset about it. "Whatever you want," you agree, too distracted by the way he is spreading his fingers apart inside you to worry about literally anything else. It draws a moan from you, and you grind down on his hand unconsciously to get more of that gorgeous sensation.

This time there is less hesitation, more confidence in the flick of his tongue and the pressure of his fingers. Listening to the sounds you make and cataloguing them with tremors of your body. He's surer the second time, one hand digging into your flesh and shoulders holding your legs wide open for him to have a full view whenever he opens his eyes. The curiosity is still there but this time it's hungrier, understanding a little better the way your moans and shaking legs lead him toward your pleasure. A second orgasm is slower to build but Pero never backs off, never hesitates, just keeps pushing you up and up that mountain until you're teetering on the edge once more.

The sounds you make are gorgeous, this time going to his cock and stirring it again. Making him harden as he works you towards an orgasm while every flick of his tongue before he pulls your clit into his mouth and sucks on it as he watches you.

The way your thighs are squeezing him, if they were around his ears he’d have completely muffled hearing by the time your body tenses up and draws his fingers in tightly, coating them in another rush of cum as you cry out his name into the cold afternoon. The stars bursting behind your vision keep you - temporarily - from seeing the pleased flash of desire in his eyes right before he doubles down on drinking every ounce of your pleasure and prolonging the spasms of your climax as long as he possibly can. It’s like drowning and floating all at once, held steady by the broad shoulders, strong hands, and plush lips of the man determined to devour you whole.

This time he does not need you to push him away, sitting back and watching your breasts heave while you come down from your high. He’s smirking, smug in his ability to bring you pleasure twice now. Happy that he could do that.

"Fuck." The groan is accompanied by a low giggle, though, as the lingering adrenaline of orgasm makes you feel like you're floating instead of lying on a table. It isn't until you sit up again that you see the nearly feral smirk on his face, and you draw him into you so you can kiss him more easily. "You deserve to look that smug."

“That is fun.” Pero hums against your lips. His arms wind around you and pull you closer, still disbelieving that he is allowed to touch you. His soulmate.

"You can do it anytime you want." He tugs you into his lap, easily having you straddle his thighs in the process. The insistence of his renewed arousal is right there for you to feel, heavy against the inside of your thigh as you brace yourself over him and nip his bottom lip between kisses.

This is what his mamá was telling him about. The feeling that was indescribable when you are with your soulmate. Pero squeezes you tight and his answering bite to your lips is just as passionate as yours.

"Pero..." So many friends had described this moment to you in the past. This first moment of real intimacy with your soulmate being such a telling thing between the two of you - and it's stunning to you how right they were. The way he wraps his arms around you and breathes you in is astounding, and he has somehow become your only source of oxygen. If you ever stop kissing him it will be far too soon.

His eyes are closed, relaxed. Not that he’s been on guard around you, you literally found him at his weakest. Just this moment is monumental for him, swearing that his heart stopped beating for an instant and started to beat in time to yours.

You're the first to move again, body demanding more despite already having cum twice. The feeling of him beneath you is just too good and you grind down in his lap to roll your hips over his cock and feel him buck. "Amor, por favor."

The breath he lets out boarders on a whine, fingers digging into your back and hips while you grind down on him expertly. If he didn’t know better, he would say that you were a most talented whore, sent to empty all his pockets of coins, but the heat and tenderness in your touch tells him that it’s so much more. “Amor.”

The word had slipped from you without realizing it, too caught in the honesty of the moment to censor yourself or even catch the unconscious truth from emerging. Opening your eyes, you lean back slightly and cup both of his cheeks in your hands to bring his gaze to yours. "Amor." You whisper, knowing that you don't need to be any louder than that for him to hear you. It's like breathing him in had awakened something inside you that you never knew was dormant, bringing it all right to the surface.

Pero is strong. One of the things that he is proud of is the fact that he has strength that would rival plenty of men. With that strength, he grunts, lifting you up to carry you the short distance to the bed.

He laughs when you squeal, throwing your arms and legs tightly around him as he starts to get up to cling to him even though it takes him all of five steps to get to the bed. No one has ever done that with you before no matter how sexy you always thought it would be, and it gives you a sort of giddiness that only makes your accidental confession better.

Pero doesn’t toss you down, but both of you tumble to the bed and he makes sure that he covers your body with his own and his might immediately attaches to your neck.

If you thought he was broad before, it is only thrown into even sharper relief with him hovering over you. It doesn't seem to matter to either of you, though, as your fingernails dig into his shoulders to keep him close and his thighs continue to keep your legs spread in this new position. All that matters right now is that he never stops, and the heavy weight of his cock against your inner thigh has you wet all over again.

“Sassenach.” He groans, kissing down your throat and biting gently on your skin. Keeping your comments about enjoying being bitten in mind.

There's going to be a trail of bites along your skin tomorrow that are ever so slightly tender but you really could not care less. It will be a gorgeous reminder of being spread out beneath him, feeling the weight of him pressing you into the mattress while delicious anticipation builds all over again. Each nip makes you gasp, back arching off the bed to press your chest against his.

Pulling back, his dark eyes bore into you, “I want to be inside you.” He groans, nearly begging for permission as his hand caresses your thigh. “Can I have you?”

That twist in your chest says you can have me forever, but given the slip you had a minute ago you just nod, crushing your lips against his before shifting on the bed to spread your legs a little wider. "Please."

He’s practiced in this. Sex is something that he knows. Wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping, pulling back the foreskin as he shifts his hips and lowers them so he can press against your entrance. “Amor.” He murmurs, kissing you while he starts to push forward.

It has been a hell of a long time since you've been in this position – not taking the chance on forming connections in the past had been a line you fed yourself for years until ultimately being solitary became habit. Even before arriving it had been several months since your last encounter, making it something like eight plus years since you had had anything but your own fingers between your legs. That might be a part of the reason it feels so fucking incredible to have Pero's cock slowly spearing into you, but you know it's mostly him. Your soulmate.

He’s grateful that he had cum earlier, the hot velvety grip of your cunt has him in a chokehold. Making him grunt as he slowly fills you. Bracing his elbows in either side of your shoulders and staring down at you in wonder.

You shift almost immediately, hitching your legs up high on his waist and letting them wrap around him to take him deeper and letting out an appreciative moan when you can feel the head of his cock nearly bump against your cervix. It's an impressively full feeling, one that has your eyes rolling back in your head for a moment as you pant under him, eager to feel how perfect it will be when he's fucking you into the mattress as hard as he damn well pleases.

The first thrust is experimental, wanting to see if that sense of liking it rough is different from his. Often he can be harsh but never cruel as he worked out his frustrations but he doesn’t want to be too harsh with you.

It’s like being in another world altogether, that gorgeous snap of his hips making you moan and rock against him as he finds the rhythm that he wants. Gentle or rough doesn’t matter to you right now, knowing there will be more than enough time for fucking as well as love making in the winter to come.

Pero moans, loving how easily to take him, the eagerness in the way your legs tighten around him. You name falls from his lips when he buries his head at your throat.

The pace he sets isn’t rough, per se, but it’s eager. Wanting to see how deeply and entirely you can take him and how sharply he can make you cry his name in pleasure. The grind of his hips makes you gasp each time and nearly see stars, and the deliberate strokes make it entirely clear to you as you cling to him - if Pero Tovar fights half as well as he fucks, it’s no wonder he never had trouble finding someone to sell his sword to.

He’s never felt anything quite like you. Maybe it’s in his head because you are his soulmate, maybe it’s that your body fits his perfectly - but it’s like you were made for him. His hands curl under your back, pulling you closer as he bears down, every jolting thrust met with a cry of pleasure that he’s quickly growing addicted to. “Mierda.”

Moments run together, making time meaningless as the entire focus of your world is narrowed to the man inside you - surrounding you, anchoring you to the world. His own grunts and growls vibrate through him, making your body tingle with every sound he muffles in your skin.

He can feel your grip tightening on him, squeezing him. He knows that you will cum soon, groaning as he pushes his hips a little harder and the echoes of his skin slapping against yours is heard.

When you finally tense beneath him one more time, the rambling praise and cries of his name are louder than any other sound in the little cottage, echoing off the walls and coming back to his ears like music. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders as you cling to him, back arched to press you against his chest and body heaving with the effort of the most intense orgasm you can remember. It might be that it’s just good sex – but that bursting in your heart promises that it’s because he’s your soulmate.

You are perfect beneath him, wonderful and he can’t even remember the last time he has felt so much pleasure. Your pleasure makes him rush headlong into his and within a few short thrusts, he is pulling out of you, not even touching his cock as he grinds against your belly and paints your skin with his release as he whines out your name again.

The only sound for a long time is the two of you panting for breath, punctuated by soft kisses exchanged in the firelight. For as greedy and demanding as your need for each other became, this moment is full of tenderness. It is also, unfortunately, a little dishonest. Or at least not containing the full truth. “You didn’t need to do that,” you murmur softly, voice tinged with regret as you look down at the Pollock-like work of art his cum has turned your skin into. You should have told him. He deserved to know before you got too close, says your mother’s voice in your head. Guilt attached to something you had absolutely no control over. Over something you never chose.

Pero frowns, shifting to his side and shaking his head. “I have no desire to plant a baby in your belly right now, amor.” He murmurs softly. “Even if you have the means of dealing with it.”

“Th-that…is good.” When you turn your head to look at him, he has settled on the pillow beside you and is gazing at you with such affection that you frown and look away again. “Because I cannot bare your babes no matter how often we might try.”

Pero frowns again, sending you a confused look. “You know you cannot?” He asks, tucking an arm behind his head and stroking your side with his other hand so you will look at him. “You have tried and failed to have a baby?”

“In my time, there are doctors…those who specialize in the health of women.” How do you explain a gynecologist? Or a Pap smear? It used to give you panic attacks just to think about - having to one day tell your partner that you couldn’t have kids. Now you find yourself heartbroken all over again because of how difficult it is to explain. “Mine discovered that I am barren. It was not through trying and failing, but because my body…my womb did not form properly.” You shut your eyes, exhaling deeply before opening them again to find him with your singular gaze. “I should have told you before this. I am sorry.”

Reaching out, Pero captures your chin in his hand and holds it firmly in his grip. "Do not apologize for things you cannot change." He tells you firmly. "You cannot have children. I never imagined actually having any." He admits. "Never thought I would live long enough."

“I had always thought to adopt, if my soulmate wished for children.” Despite the slight tremble in your chin, you’re grateful for how steady he is in this moment. So many other people had considered you less of a woman for something entirely beyond your control. “But that is…a question for much later, I suppose.”

"Adopt?" He furrows his brow and tries to understand what you mean.

Right. Vocabulary. You frown at yourself, but there is no difference in the already displeased expression on your face. “Take in a child in need. A child without a family of their own.”

He nods, understand what you mean now. "Taking in a bastard or urchin." He grunts, not opposed to the idea at all. "If you wanted to, I would not stop you." He promises. "If you wanted to not do that, I would not look down on you." He pulls you closer. "I do not care about your womb." He stops and smirks slightly. "Except for the knowledge that I can fill you without worry."

“As often as you want.” It is a relief to have what would generously be called your confession over with, and you lay your head on his shoulder. “I did not think we would ever be in this position.” The entendre makes you grin. “Or any other that we tried today.”

He chuckles for a moment and holds you close, his fingers brushing over your skin gently as the two of you lay on the much more comfortable bed you sleep in. "You were upset when you told me." He doesn't like that and his voice is gruff. "Why? Did you think I would toss you aside?"

“I—” You have to resist the urge to turn away or look elsewhere again, knowing that you need to be honest with him. “Yes.”

He grunts at that, rolling his eyes slightly before he catches himself. He doesn't know what it would be like to know he could never have children if he wished. He reaches up and caresses your cheek as you lay on his shoulder. "I am not." He promises you. "You are my soulmate." He reasons softly. "If God or the universe wished it—" He shrugs his other shoulder, not mentioning that he would have assumed that if it was supposed to be then it would be possible. He is not a man who dwells on what he cannot change. "It is good that you know so you do not fret when you cannot give me a child."

All the imaginary conversations you ever had with imagined versions of your soulmate over the years come brimming to the surface and you bury your face. “If the day ever came when you decided you wanted a child of your own, I would understand.” It would break your heart; you know that now. But loving someone means wanting them to be happy, and calling him amor was not an exaggeration. You do love him.

Pero snorts and decides that you need to look at him. Rolling you over and pinning you under him again. "Listen, Sassenach." He grumbles at you. "I have no need of a child of my own. And I will not be breeding a bastard on someone." He scowls slightly at the mere idea of it. "You will have your gato and maybe more chickens and a goat to love on. If you want a child, I will drag home some urchin for you to love on and worry over, but I do not need you risking your life and body to bear me a child in order to be happy."

“I have said my piece.” There is no way to escape his gaze like this, and you know that that is what he intended. For a man who could be coarse and frustrating at nearly every turn, he has a gentle sweetness and care that you wish you had the words to describe properly. It’s like having a special place to sit that is all your own, perfectly tailored to be the exact comfort and care you need without having to ask for it. Plus orgasms. “Gracias, amor. For accepting it.”

"De nada." He hums and leans down to press his lips to yours again. He senses you do not want to discuss it anymore and he will not push you. He would not dream of pushing you to talk about things like that. Instead, he just concentrates on making you moan into his mouth softly.

“Tomorrow we will give Caballo the hay from your mattress.” You tell him, glad to see the smile return to his lips and feel it on your own. “And the cloth can be saved for whatever need may arise. I wish to lay with my soulmate each night.”

Pero hums and nods. “I will never deny you.” There’s a small smirk and a flash of a wink. “Your bed is comfortable and we will be warm.”

“And you will never need to touch yourself late at night again.” It’s too good to resist teasing him just a little, since it turned into this.

He huffs at you, biting your shoulder and pouts slightly. “I did not know you were awake.”

“I was afraid to say something and frighten you from providing me such a beautiful sight.” You admit, pressing a kiss to his cheek before he can lift his head away.

“You saw me?” He could disappear right now in embarrassment.

“Only a glimpse.” The blush on his cheeks is not something you would have guessed at, but it is so endearing that it earns him another kiss. “I had to be sure that what I was hearing was true.”

He snorts and shakes his head at his luck. Although he doesn’t really mind it since it had allowed him to touch you today. “You could have invited me into your bed last night.” He grunts at you playfully.

“I could have.” That thought did flutter across your mind, even though it seemed too fantastical to be a real possibility at the time. “But then our baths would have been much less dramatic.”

He chuckles quietly. “I did imagine you in your bath when I told the boy to get one.” He admits, ducking his head and nipping your shoulder.

“Was it worth it?” It was certainly worth seeing him in the steaming hot water. You would kill to get him under the powerful shower head in your apartment back home.

“Yes.” He groans happily and nods. “So much so that I would do it again tomorrow, or the next day.” Having a tub in the house is a luxury and it feels decadent and rich to watch you bathe in the large tub he had provided.

“I am glad.” Nipping at his skin in turn, you soothe the small bite with a kiss and offer him an honest smile. “We will pass an extremely pleasurable winter this way, I think.”

“Much more satisfying than I had imagined.” He agrees. “I had imagined sneaking out to the barn to relieve myself as my want for you grew.”

“We will leave the barn to the young ones.” It warms you to know that his feelings were growing the same way yours were - both emotionally and sexually - and that neither of you had to hide it any longer. “But perhaps we will see next time if that bath can hold the both of us?”

If he were younger, he would be spreading your thighs again. For now, he had can only nod and occupy himself with another kiss.

“Rest, amor.” The suggestion is soft, accompanied by your hand carefully searching out the edges of the blankets and furs on your bed to pull them up. “It will be hours yet before supper is ready. And we have had a great deal of excitement today.”

He hums and shifts slightly, his leg thrown over yours while you draw the covers up over both of you. “We have. Sleeping next to you is just what I need right now.”

“Then we shall sleep.” One more kiss to his lips and another to the pronounced bridge of his nose for good measure, and you tuck yourself into his side to rest. A well-earned afternoon nap is calling both of your names, and you’re sure it will only be the first of many for the season.

______

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[sirowsky]

Day 3, and this one is a panicked rewrite because I was in a mood when I first wrote it. So, please bear in mind that I wrote this in an hour and that it's not proofread, and thank you so much to @lowlights for the prompt, which was "Did you just break my door down!?"

Rating: Explicit 18+ONLY Warnings: Pero Tovar x female reader, reader has no description except wearing a dress, anger, heated argument, smut, modern AU. Word Count: 1200 Sirowsky's Masterlist

--Anger Management--

   He’s in the shower when he hears heavy banging on the front door of his house, but it’s been a really long day and he’s in a bad mood, which for Pero Tovar means that he shouldn’t be around people.    So, he ignores whoever’s out there and carries on scrubbing himself clean of the engine oil that’s soaked into his skin through his clothes.

   But just seconds later, a bang so loud that he fears half the house is coming down, suddenly thunders through the structure, and he all but leaps out of the stall.    He grabs a towel without slowing down, sloppily wrapping it around his waist as he leaves the bathroom and goes looking for the source of what he’s almost certain must’ve been an explosion.

   Instead, he finds his front door hanging off of just the lower one of the hinges, along with scattered debris of what had been the doorframe around the lock-mechanism, all over the hallway floor.    And in the middle of all that, is you. Standing just two feet inside the house, panting hard and with your fists tightly closed against the sides of your thighs.

   You’re quite clearly fuming, but that’s not what Pero is most immediately concerned about.

   “Did you just kick my door down!? Are you out of your fucking mind!?” he berates you, almost screaming as his anger builds, but you’re not the least bit intimidated.

   “Yeah, I did!” you scream back, taking a step closer. “Because you’re a god damned coward and I’ve had it with you!”

   “You broke into my house to call me a coward??” he demands, but he’s actually truly shocked at this entire situation.

   Because while he does know that you have a temper, he also knows that it takes a lot to set you off, and he can’t think of anything that he’s done recently that could’ve triggered you.

   “When you stand me up for the third fucking time, you better believe I’m calling you chicken!!” you retort, and suddenly he wants to kick himself in his own balls.

   You’ve been friends for ages and watched each other go through one failed relationship after another, until you both eventually just sort of gave up.    That had then led to over two years of both of you being mostly miserable, until you’d suggested that maybe it was fate and that you should go on a date with each other.    And once that idea came into his head, Pero had started looking at you differently.

   He had realized that you were pretty much perfect in his eyes, and it had astounded him that he’d never seen it before.    So, six weeks ago, you’d made plans to go hiking your favorite trail together and stop for a picnic at a gorgeous viewpoint at the highest section of it.    But he’d had to cancel at the last possible minute because of work.

   Two weeks later, you’d tried again, keeping it simple with dinner and a movie, and he’d accidentally left you sitting alone in the restaurant for an hour before he’d remembered to call and cancel.    Not because of work that time, but because of a very drunk colleague.    You’d been understanding, but also very disappointed in him.

   So, this time, you’d made plans to meet at your place, which was just a five minute walk from his, and you were gonna make him his favorite dish.    He hadn’t remembered to cancel at all tonight, because he hadn’t even remembered that you’d made plans.    Not even before his car had decided to start leaking oil and distracted him.

   A quick glance at his waterproof wristwatch tells him that you would’ve had dinner ready at least three hours ago.

   “Fuck…” he sighs, knowing that nothing he says is gonna make up for this one. “I’m so sorry, hermosa.”

   You throw your arms out in exasperation, and he can’t blame you.

   “If you’ve changed your mind then just say so,” you growl, but he can hear how the anger is being replaced by the hurt. “I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

   “No, I haven’t… I’m just an idiot,” he says, shaking his head at himself.

   You seem to agree with him there, but you also look like you’re contemplating something.    Then, from one second to the next, all the hurt vanishes from your frame and something determined and strong takes its place.    And in the next moment, you’re crossing the hallway with long and powerful strides, not stopping until you crash into him, grabbing his head and harshly pressing your lips to his.

   Bewildered, he kisses you back, and every inch of his body is suddenly sparking to life.    He wraps his arms around you, ignoring that the towel drops to the floor when he lets go of it, because now that he can finally taste you, he’s instantly bewitched.    Whatever it was that had him in such a bad mood earlier is completely forgotten, and all he wants is just to get lost in you.

   He quickly pulls your dress over your head, finding you already naked underneath, which only stokes his hunger.    Somehow, the bedroom seems a mile away even though it’s just down the hall, so he slips a finger into you while you’re still walking, needing you to be ready for him as soon as you reach the bed.

   You try to wrap your fingers around his hard length, but he stops you, because if you touch him, he’s not gonna make it.    Thankfully, you take the hint and leave him be, and when he slips another finger into you, your pleasure makes you quiver, forcing your hands up onto his shoulders to steady yourself.    Reaching the bed, he pulls his fingers out and quickly licks them to taste you, because there just isn’t time to do it properly right now.

   He pushes you down on the bed and you eagerly climb back into the center of it, spreading your legs for him as he chases after you.    There’s no hesitation from either of you, no question that this needs to happen, that it’s right and good and perfect, so once you’re settled, he finds the heat of your core and dives right in.

   It’s all a little too hard and a little too fast, but he can’t help it. He needs to have you.    And he can feel that same need from you, spurring him on with your heels against the backs of his thighs and your fingers digging into his back.    But that urgency takes you both to your peak within just a couple of minutes, and all too soon, it’s over.

   Still, as he lays there on top of you, trying to find his breath again, feeling that wonderful boneless sensation spread through every part of him, he’s happier than he’s been in a long time. Perhaps ever.    And he smiles to himself when it occurs to him that without your temper, you never would’ve dared to make that first move.

   “Thank you for breaking down my door, querida,” he whispers in your ear, hoping that you know that he’s not just talking about the door, but about his own walls.

<<<<<<<THE END>>>>>>>

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