A/N: This one is from a prompt from auspicious leader, Soul finds Maka had a badass habit. It is only very lightly smutty. Mostly fluffy.
Inked:
She was so secretive about it, how could he have known? Sure, there would periodically be a day or two where she claimed to be too sore to sit much, but she was a meister, sometimes they overdid it. Sure he had caught her in a towel a time or twelve seeing that they lived together, but that part of her was always discretely covered. No, he couldn't have known, had no way to know, really.
Of course, he hadn't seen it until they were dating, until they were finally, blissfully, wholly together, and not even the first time. Then it was dark, or they were under covers, and the positioning did not lend to seeing all of her.
It wasn't until one morning, early into their bedsharing, that it happened. She was asleep on her stomach and, while Maka had always been the earlier riser, Soul found that waking up with morning wood with a meister willing and able to help him with his problem had been significant incentive to change his sleeping habits a touch. This morning, for once, he was awake and aroused and trying to gain her sleepy attention by kissing up and down the length of her. As he kissed down first her shoulder, then back, finally reaching her rear beneath the blanket, he noticed that one of her ass cheeks was suspiciously splotchier and darker than the other, and peeled back the cover for better light. As Maka grunted and stirred at the cool air now hitting her backside, he let out a strangled gasp.
Maka had been inked. Maka Albarn, his newly minted lover, his girlfriend, his prudish little bookworm of a meister, had a tattoo, right smack in the middle of one deliciously curvy ass cheek, a tattoo of him, of all things. Well, not him, but him all the same. It was an intricate depiction of his scythe form, put together with dozens upon dozens of miniature souls. It wasn't finished, either. It looked like the artist had finished the haft and a part of the blade, but there was still a lot of him left to complete the picture.
Soul had to admit, it was about the hottest thing he had ever seen. The hottest thing he could imagine, and his arousal became almost painful. The scythe moved up to press himself against her side, breathing in her ear.
"Makaaah."
"Mmm…whazit? Go back t' sleep."
"But how can I sleep when I just saw what you have on your ass?" He said lowly in her ear, pressing himself into her side to emphasize his point.
Maka made a move to roll over and face him, but he put a hand on her shoulder to still her.
"No, I wanna be able to see it. It's really fucking hot. I can't believe you got inked."
He saw her back flush red and grinned against her ear.
"When did you—"
"I got the first one after we collected our first soul," she was wide awake now, her breath hitching slightly as he began to kiss and suckle her neck enthusiastically. "It was—hard to find someone who would tattoo someone so young, especially without a parent to give the okay. I had to forge Papa's signature and emphasize his position to get a good artist to agree."
"But why?" Hot as it was, it was hard to imagine her at 14 deciding to do such a thing.
"I—I don't know—I wanted to make sure I'd never forget. What we do, it's important, and it was important to me. At first, it was just a line of souls, but eventually—I asked for it to make a picture of your scythe form since this was something you did as much as me, something we did together, and since making you a deathscythe was the goal, you know? At first I would go in for every new soul we collected, but I only go after there are enough to put a dent in the picture anymore."
"I can't believe I never knew," he lifted his lips from kissing shoulder long enough to grumble.
"I never wanted you to know. Why do you think it was on my ass? I didn't want anyone to know, especially not you, at least, not then. It would look pretty bad having a picture of you on my rear, don't you think? I, uh, didn't want you to get the wrong idea." Her flush was back and he smiled, moving back down to her plump bottom to caress this newfound treasure before lavishing it with kisses. After a few minutes of these ministrations, of enjoying the goosebumps he raised and the little sounds of approval she made, he raised his head to look at her silken locks spread around her, covering her back.
"I think I have the wrong idea," he said huskily.
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't," she turned her neck enough to eye him over her shoulder, her seductive little smile setting every nerve on fire.
"Can I watch next time?" he finally asked after a round of kissing every available inch of skin on that side of her body and finally prodding her to turn over and face him. She sat up, then, and they tangled their legs together, hers above, his below, as they faced one another.
"Every time, if you'd like," she smiled softly.
An instant later he was kissing her, or she was kissing him, it hardly mattered, and she was in his lap, him caressing where he knew her ink lay with purpose. Very soon kissing became more, as he had intended all along, and neither could complain about the outcome.
Afterwards, he could only think that that was one hell of a habit she had acquired, and he reveled in the knowledge that his bookworm had always been a badass.