March X Farmer - Tumblr Posts

March x Injured farmer after 4-hearts cutscene

description: It didn’t matter how his steely gaze had gentled like molten ore these last few weeks. It didn’t matter that the few times the farmer couldn’t avoid March completely, his words didn’t have the same bitter edge they had that first season in Mistria. Maybe that was just her imagination, anyway. Wishful thinking, she told herself. So, when Olric asked Ariana to help him and his brother out at the forge, she tried not to get her hopes up.

Or, a rewrite of the four-heart cutscene where March helps the farmer home after she sprains her ankle at the forge. Then, they finally confront their feelings.

warnings: NSFW (rated M, nothing too intense. minors dni), minor injury

note: there are a few fics on ao3 where the farmer helps a drunk march home after friday night at the inn, so i wondered what a scenario where march had to help the farmer home instead would be like! this fic is also on ao3 ♡ i haven't written fic in 8 years if you like this please talk to me about it/leave a comment!!! it means the world and im feral for this grumpy blacksmith

Ariana hadn’t said more than a few passing words to March since he asked her to meet him at the Blacksmith a few weeks ago. March had chewed her out and then, perplexingly, gifted her a hoe with the nicest metalwork Ari had ever seen. She was used to working with wooden training weapons at the Adventurer’s Guild and since she had arrived in Mistria she had made do with whatever tools she could get her hands on. Sure, they were old and rusty, but they were also free. Ariana didn’t need nice things.

Ever since that day in his shop, Ari had avoided having any real conversations with Mistria’s blacksmith. When she could, she would leave whatever ore she had collected with Olric or with a note by the forge and continue quickly on her way without meeting March’s gaze. And the few times she had exchanged words with him, Ari found it hard to look away from his eyes, dark as the midnight sky, and those lips, quirked down in a frown.

You’re being ridiculous, Ari chided herself. He’s not warming up to you. He’s just keeping an eye on you like he promised.

Sure, he hadn’t outright insulted the farmer in a couple weeks. He didn’t need to. March had thrown his words like daggers when they last spoke at any real length.

March had looked at her with eyes hard like iron. “Oh please. You're in way over your head. You come out here, no money, no experience, and think you can just fake your way through running a farm? And now everyone in town acts like it was you who won the first-place blacksmithing trophy three years running. It's all fun and games now, but the second things actually get tough, I'm sure you're going to ditch Mistria and its problems.”

Ariana wasn’t a quitter. She had told March that much. But he was right about one thing. She had no idea how to run a farm. Back in the Capital, Ari could barely keep a houseplant alive on the windowsill of her apartment. She was always a quick learner, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t enough.

You weren’t enough for the Adventurer’s Guild, and you aren’t enough for Mistria.

And March was the only one who saw that. Ari wanted to prove him wrong- she wanted to be good enough for Mistria. Good enough for March, Ari tried not to think. She told herself that was the reason the blacksmith was always on her mind. She was only thinking about proving him wrong. She was not thinking about his eyes that sparkled when he laughed on Fridays at the inn, not the little crease between his eyebrows that she wanted to smooth out when he frowned, and certainly not what those pursed lips would feel like beneath her own

 That would be ridiculous, she told herself. He hates you. 

It didn’t matter how his steely gaze had gentled like molten ore these last few weeks. It didn’t matter that the few times Ari couldn’t avoid March completely, his words didn’t have the same bitter edge they had that first season in Mistria. Maybe that was just her imagination, anyway. Wishful thinking, she told herself. So, when Olric asked Ariana to help him and his brother out at the forge, she tried not to get her hopes up.

—

March was having a great day. It was still early in the summer, so the air in Mistria wasn’t blistering quite yet. It was just the right temperature that reminded him of standing in front of the warmth of the forge. He was pleased with himself as he approached his brother, “Olric! Balor cut me a great deal on the ingots. But we’ll have to bring them to the forge ourselves, so we’ll need to-” March cut himself short when he saw familiar purple waves and a denim overall dress. “Ari, what do you think you’re doing here exactly?” March’s skin simmered with a feeling that he told himself was anger.

“March!” his brother beamed, “Ari heard how backed up we were and uh… volunteered to help out! Right, buddy?”

Ari stood silently for a moment, her eyes locked firmly on March. He swore he saw a faint blush creep onto her cheeks. Figures, he thought, I’ve been a real ass to her. Of course she’d still be angry with me. The farmer had been avoiding him these last few weeks. Ever since he’d pushed her away. It was for the best. March had to focus on work and while Ari had captured everybody else’s attention in Mistria, it was best that she stayed away from March. He liked it better on his own.

March broke Ari’s gaze, and whatever spell was cast between them had broken. March didn’t let himself feel disappointed.

“Many hands make light work!” Ari recovered, sunny as ever. March thought it was infuriating. No matter how rude he was to her, she always responded with a smile and a kind word. It was ridiculous. Nobody was that nice.

Nobody except Ari, his subconscious added unhelpfully. He ignored it. It had to be an act, right? March angled his head so he could look down at Ari in a way he knew made most people feel small. “I don’t need platitudes, especially from you.”

Ari’s smile faltered and March chided himself despite his better judgment. This woman was so frustrating! “Well you can just- fine! Fine. But you’d better be able to keep up,” March finished. 

The blacksmith directed his brother to start carrying over Balor’s shipment from the inn, and Ari helped start up the forge. She kept the temperature steady easily. March wasn’t surprised, her skill had been improving steadily since she arrived in Mistria. The two of them fell into an easy rhythm. A swell of pride bubbled in March’s chest as Ari added another ingot to their growing pile. Once Olric returned with the shipment from Balor, he slotted into their routine and the work that would’ve taken all day with just the two brothers was done by lunchtime.

“And... that's... it! Whew, I think we're done. Are we done, Olric?” March panted.

Olric was out of breath as well, “We sure are! Everyone is going to be super happy about this!”

“That was fun!” Ari was beaming, showing that warmth that March craved despite himself.

The blacksmith felt his cheeks heat. “Y-yeah! ... I mean... thanks, Ari. I'm going inside,” March swallowed thickly, “I need to cool down.”

March felt the farmer’s stare on his back as he turned back into the shop. Before he could even latch the door closed, there was a scuff of boots and a yelp at the forge behind him. Next thing March knew, he was at Ari’s side helping her to sit on the stairs from the forge that she had seemingly tripped down.

—

Ari’s ankle throbbed as she sat on the steps to the forge, March’s hands carefully assessing her injury. She thought it was fitting that her first real injury in Mistria had come from her infatuation with the Blacksmith and not from a monster in the mines or from her work on the farm. March was the biggest pain in her ass, even more so than any of her real work. March pressed his fingers gently against a tender spot on her ankle and she flinched at the ache it caused.

March turned to Olric, “We should get her to Valen to check this out.” Was that concern in his voice? She was not going to see the town’s doctor. Absolutely not. She would never live down the indignity if her first trip to Valen’s clinic was caused by tripping down the stairs while ogling at the local blacksmith. It was barely a sprain, surely she could make it to her farm and patch herself up with supplies from her adventuring days. Ari carefully maintained her image as the competent farmer. She didn’t want Valen to see through the act like March clearly had.

You’re not enough for Mistria. And you are certainly not enough for him.

Before March could turn his gaze back to Ari, she pushed herself off the steps to make her way home. However, the second she put weight on her ankle she stumbled back onto the stairs. Despite the obvious difficulty moving, Ari managed to mumble out a pouted “’M fine.”

“Your ankle is already twice its normal size.” Ari felt March’s eyes on her injury. “There is no way you can keep working like that,” the concern in March’s voice was unmistakable.

So he does care.

Before Ari let herself dwell on that revelation, she threw the harshest look she could muster through the butterflies in her stomach and the throbbing in her ankle. She was never really good at harsh looks to begin with. “You are not taking me to Valen like this.”

March matched her disagreeable energy for a moment, with much more verve than she had managed “What do you mean? You know it's her job to see to injuries, right?”

Olric looked between the two of them, clearly not wanting to be caught in the middle of one of their arguments. “I’m just going inside to check on our, um, rocks… Ari just shout if you need any help, yeah? Take care of yourself, bro.”

When Ari didn’t say anything after Olric made himself scarce, March softened again. “You really do need to get this treated.”

Ari couldn’t help but smile, “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you cared about my well being,”

March’s face turned as red as his hair as he stammered, “W- well I don’t want you out of commission with all that ore you’re bringing around all the time. It’d be bad for business- that's all.” Though he tried to mask his worry, Ari still caught his eyes darting down to her swollen ankle.

“March, I’ll be fine. I have some supplies at the farmhouse. I can patch myself up, I’ve done it before.”

Before Ari could move to get up again, March carefully laid a hand on her arm. “At least let me help you get home. We both know you can’t put weight on that ankle right now.” Ari could swear she felt sparks where his fingers brushed, calloused and warm. The farmer nodded her head because her throat seemed too dry to form words.

It was going to be a slow-going process, getting back to the farm. Ari had an arm slung over March’s shoulder so he could help support her as they began to walk away from the Blacksmith. Ari tried to hide her wince and sharp intake of breath whenever her injured foot pressed against the ground. But they didn’t seem to escape March’s attention, because after a few steps, he motioned for Ari to stop moving.

“This will go a lot faster if you let me carry you.”

For a moment Ari forgot about her pride and imagined March’s strong arms, toned from long days at the forge, wrapped around her body. Imagined what it would feel like to wrap her own arms around him and what it would be like to feel his pulse under her breath as she rested her head in the crook of his neck. So Ari conceded. For purely experimental purposes, of course. 

March picked her up like she weighed nothing, despite her plump curves and her own toned physique from life on the farm and adventurer training before it. She had trained hard with the Guild, though they never sent her out on any real adventures. Ari was competent, but she had been relatively new to the Adventurer’s guild. There was always a more seasoned adventurer for the jobs that really mattered. And it would have been selfish of her to push for a job outside the city, protecting farmland from bandits or villagers from woodland monsters when her inexperience could have easily hurt the ones she wanted to help. So, the old farm in Mistria seemed like Ari’s best shot to make a real difference.

Even if I have no clue what I’m doing, she couldn’t help but remind herself.

She was shaken from her thoughts when March started walking after adjusting Ari in his arms. He was carrying her princess-style, and as Ari wrapped her arms around his neck, the feeling of his skin under her fingertips was even better than she had imagined. March’s hold was secure, and Ari relaxed into him. She focused on the pleasant up and down sensation of each step as they made their way towards her farm instead of her throbbing ankle.

Ari decided to test out another one of her theories, and rested her head in the crook of March’s neck. She felt muscles tense under her cheek for a moment, before March pulled her body closer to his. He smelled of cedarwood & sage, and she drank in the scent. This felt more magical than any spell Caldarus could teach her. Ari could feel March’s pulse thundering as they crossed the bridge that led home. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba- dum. It was mesmerizing. Ari wondered if her own heartbeat betrayed her like his did.

Is he enjoying this?

Before Ari could decide on an answer, March stopped at the front door of her farmhouse.

“We’re here, Princess.” March’s breath was on her ear and his voice raspy. He wasn’t teasing her, not entirely. Lightning licked down Ari’s spine at his words, and at his voice.

Ari tried to control her breath as she replied, “You can put me down now, I think.”

March seemed to return to himself as the tension loosened between them when he was reminded of why he had been carrying her in the first place.

“Let me at least get you settled inside. You’ll strain yourself trying to walk on it so soon.” 

Ari rolled her eyes at his mother-henning, but her arms were still around his neck and she wouldn’t mind a few more moments of feeling his body pressed against hers. “Fine.”

March set Ari gingerly on her plaid bed sheets and she told him where to find the healing supplies. He pulled the canvas duffel bag out from under the bed and began to sort through her first aid kit. 

“Do you even know what to do with all that?”

March looked up at her, “First aid training a couple years ago. I taught smithing at a summer camp.”

Ari studied her grumpy blacksmith. It made sense that he would be a camp counselor. He was great with Luc, Maple, and Dell; always working on little projects for them. She recently overheard Dell bragging about the awesome dragons-head belt-buckle he had made for the little adventurer.

“You really are a softy,” Ari accused him with no real malice in her voice.

“Would you rather I leave you here and let you break your ankle tripping over yourself?”

March gathered healing ointment on his one hand and carefully lifted Ari’s injured ankle with the other. He spread the salve over the swollen area and Ari couldn’t decide which sensation was more intense- the aching tenderness of her sprain, or the electricity she felt every time March touched her.

The air smelled of mint & aloe. The pain in Ari’s ankle quieted to a dull thrum. “I guess I don’t really mind that you’re here.”

March’s smirk told Ari he was unconvinced by her nonchalance. He wiped the ointment from his hands onto a washcloth from the healing kit, and moved to wrap her ankle for stability. As he worked the bandage around and around, March’s gaze stayed locked on Ari’s.

“Thank you, March,” her voice was barely more than a whisper. Where before the tension between them had grown slack, now it was pulled taut. 

“Arianna,” March breathed.

Before Ari could consider what she was about to do, her hands found their way to March’s red locks and she gently pulled him up so that his face was even with her own. He was so close that they could share breath. His lips were slightly parted and his cheeks were rosy. Ari closed her eyes and the distance between them as she gently pressed her lips to his.

Ari expected March to be reticent, at first. She feared he might even pull away from where their lips were joined. Instead, March deepened the kiss gently, almost reverently. His hands cupped Ari’s jaw and warmth pulsed down her body, through her stomach, and straight to her core. They explored each other with tenderness and without any rush. Ari’s grip loosened in March’s hair and she moved her hands down his chest and to the hard plane of his abdomen. His apron felt rough beneath her fingers, and Ari couldn’t help but stop and toy with the metal pendant he always wore. 

They kissed until they were out of breath and panting. When March finally pulled away, his eyes devoured Arianna like a starved man. The blacksmith pressed his forehead to Ari’s and she could feel his warm breath on her lips. Ari ached for him as March repositioned his hands to rest on her waist and his lips to brush against her ear.

“You’re so beautiful.” His words sent another shiver between her legs and Ari wondered if she was having the same effect on him.

“Do you really mean it?” She whined, “Don’t you dare tease me.”

Ari couldn’t help the lingering fear in the back of her mind that this was just some joke; that the harsh distance from before revealed his true feelings for her and now he was just having a bit of fun at her expense.

Deep down she knew that the man who taught his craft to kids at summer camp and who faithfully created a copper nugget beetle out of actual copper for Luc wouldn’t have the heart to do that to her. But the fear remained nonetheless.

March let out a sigh that sounded almost like regret. “Is it because of how I treated you before? I’m sorry Ariana.” His stare darted down for a moment, unable to meet her own. “I have a tough time with new people. I learned that they can’t disappoint me if I expect the worst from them.” March pulled back so he could look into her eyes again, pupils blown with desire and gaze simmering like hot coals. “I expected the worst from you and you proved me wrong every single time. Thank you for today.” March paused another moment, and Ari quietly marvelled at how beautiful he looked in that moment.  “I’m shit with words, Ari. Let me show you.”

Arianna nodded frantically, heady want flooding her thoughts and her senes until all she could feel were March’s hands on her overalls as he adjusted her farther back on the bed, carefully maneuvering her injured ankle. She ached for him. Then, March positioned himself between her legs and she could feel his need. For a moment, his lips were on hers again, and she relished feeling so close to him. He kissed down her chin and to her jaw. He paused his work to look up at her, and his gaze was like a blessing and a wanton prayer. March’s mouth trailed kisses down her overalls and to just below her navel, and she lamented that she was covered by the damned clothing. Ari wanted to feel his lips on her bare skin. Then, a hand snaked up her thigh and under her dress. Arianna moaned her assent.

March looked up again, “Is this okay?”

Ari mustered another nod, all rational thought lost to her. March bunched the skirt of her overalls at the waist.

“Is this okay?”

Again, Ari nodded. March pushed her underwear to the side and positioned his lips just above her core.

“Is this okay?” March looked at her with a primal hunger in his gaze, voice rough with want.

Ari tried to nod again, but all she managed to do was buck her hips towards March’s waiting lips and let out a needy moan.

Finally, finally March pressed a kiss to where she needed it most and Ari began to come undone underneath him. His tongue was hitting all the right spots; and his hands pressed her hips firmly to the bed when all she wanted to do was grind into him. 

March lifted his head for a moment, gazing up at Ari with his lips parted. She felt his calloused hands resting on her hips, only pressing down when she tried to lift them. “Careful with that ankle, Ari.”

The unabashed concern in his voice was as intoxicating as the evidence of what he had been doing to her on his lips.

All Ari could think about were those hands on her skin and the bulge she knew was between March’s legs. “Come back up here, March.”

They shed their clothes, and then March was pressed against her once again. Where before it was his mouth, now it was his hips. Ariana forgot the ache in her ankle and the cool gel of the healing salve when there was no more room between herself and March. He fit perfectly, and joined with her so gently. As March pressed his forehead against Ari’s and began to move within her, she thought she could see every possible shade of magic inside his blown out pupils. Ariana had come to Mistria for a farm and a house, but what she had gotten was a home. That thought scared her more than any monster in the mines. March reached a hand up to cup her jaw and he captured her lips in a tender kiss. His fingertips felt hot where they touched her cheek, and she savored the roughness of his callouses, hardened from long days at the forge.

Soon, both spent, they reluctantly pulled away from each other. March grabbed a towel from the small kitchen in the farmhouse and wiped up his mess from her stomach and chest. The texture of the towel was rough against her soft skin and slick against March’s release. 

“Was that clear enough for you, Princess?”  March asked with a smirk. March’s arm was around her shoulders and her head was pressed to his chest where she could hear his heartbeat.

Emboldened by his obvious affection, Ari adjusted to prop her head on her elbow and smiled as she stared lazily at the man in bed next to her. “Are you sure that's how you feel about me?”

March silenced her with a kiss and she laughed into his mouth. When they separated again, March’s fingers explored her purple waves. “Please don’t ask me to explain it again right now. I might need a break first.”

Ari laughed and curled into March's side, feeling content and decidedly not ready for another round. March pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

They held one another in companionable silence for some time. “I think I love you, idiot,” March finally mumbled into Ariana's hair.

Ari pulled away to meet his gaze, heart thundering in equal parts joy and disbelief. Composing herself, she smiled at her blacksmith. Her blacksmith. “I was just thinking the same thing, asshole.” 

all i can think of is march and writing dirty filthy fanfic about march. this is what happens when the game is in early access and i cant KISS HIM YET

so if i theoretically had like nearly 4k words of march smut written... would y'all like... be interested...

something beautiful (march x f!reader)

summary:

You felt March smile against your lips at the shudder he sent through you. You melted like a piece of ore on the anvil beneath him, and you hoped he would shape you into something beautiful.

notes: explicit (minors dni), f!farmer, loss of virginity, smut, praise kink, soft!dom march | crossposted to ao3

word count: 4,228

You felt the heat of the forge and of March’s on your back as he judged your work in the cool night air. Although neither of you were willing to admit it outside of the tipsy haze of Friday nights at the Inn, you and the blacksmith had come to treasure spending time together. When March offered to give you smithing lessons over drinks one Friday night, your heart raced with forbidden hope. Hope that maybe this tension wasn’t in your head. Maybe he wanted an excuse to see you, too. Maybe he felt the same way. Maybe he pictured you falling apart underneath him while he was alone in his bed. After you felt the impact of the last strike of your hammer travel up your arm, you leaned back, gloved hands on the anvil, to admire your work. Tonight, you had finished a shining silver sword.

You felt the air shift as the blacksmith stepped behind you to study the blade. You could feel his breath on your neck as he leaned forward to run his own gloved finger along the blade. His other arm had you caged between his body and the anvil as he studied your work. He always had something to critique in your pieces during these lessons. As he stared at the silver in silence your breath hitched.

You repositioned, turning your back to the anvil so you could look at March. You saw a faint smile play on his lips that you pretended didn’t make your insides flutter. “Good work, farm girl.”

The praise in his voice turned your knees liquid. You hoped he didn’t notice how you suddenly reclined harder on the anvil for support. Or the tiny mewl that made its way from your throat without permission. But, given the distance between you and the glint in his eye, you knew he heard exactly what he had done to you. Your heart leaped in your chest with the sudden fear that if he knew how you felt, it would ruin your friendship. That you would jeopardize these lessons. That he would return to the cool distance that had marked your first few seasons knowing him. You liked his warmth. You could feel it where your chests nearly pressed together. His eyes were heavy-lidded as he leaned closer, his body enveloping yours; his breath a brand on your neck. A smirk played on his lips and you felt like you could hardly breathe while you waited for what he would say next.

“Did you like that, princess?”

You didn’t even try to hide your whimper this time. You weren’t sure when he started calling you princess, but you knew it always made you blush. He probably enjoyed making you squirm, even when he wasn’t pressing you against his anvil. March inclined his head until you could feel his lips on the shell of your ear.

“Good girl.”

His name fell from your voice in a whimper as warmth pooled between your legs. March’s body was finally, finally flush with yours as he bent down towards you. You felt his muscles flex as he pushed something behind you. Then you heard your creation tumble to the ground on the side opposite you and your blacksmith. His hands were a vice on your hips as he lifted you easily onto his anvil. His hands were a vice on your hips as he lifted you easily onto his anvil. The safety enchantments made the metal of the anvil pleasantly warm against your skin, but never hot enough to burn. The gloves and the fabric of your pants that separated his fingers from bare skin were the worst injustice you could think of. You had never bared your body to another before, but you longed to give yourself to him with a fire like molten ore deep in your soul.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” March’s voice was rough with want. Finger by taunting finger, he removed the gloves from his hands. You numbly thought that you should do the same, but the hunger in his eyes froze you in place.

“Don’t stop,” you didn’t mean to beg. “March, please-”

You felt a calloused hand snake underneath the skirt of your overalls to rest just underneath the curve of your breast.

“Do you know how hard,” March let out a harsh breath, “you make it to keep my hands off you?”

With March’s hand hiking the dress up around your middle, you should have been worried about someone seeing you bared from the waist down in just your underclothes and worn leather boots. But the stars shone in the midnight sky and the air was cool where it nipped at your navel and all you could feel was March and the growing pool teasing you between your legs.

March’s free hand found its place on your hip as the blacksmith looked down at you. His eyes caught the growing wetness soaking your panties, appreciation bright in his gaze. “So eager for me, aren’t you?”

March finally moved his lips so they were just a hair above your own. You could almost feel them brush against you when he said, “Tell me what you want, farm girl.” The plea tumbled from you immediately.

“You.”

You lamented the cool air on your cheeks as March pulled away again, no remorse in his steely eyes. “I think you can do better than that,” he tutted.

You had never been with someone like this before and had certainly never begged. But you swallowed your insecurity as you pleaded, “Kiss me.”

March smirked. “Is that all?”

He knew what you wanted. You could feel what he wanted pressed against your inner thigh.

“I- I’ve never done this before. I- I mean, I’ve kissed someone, but not like this. Not like what I want.”

March’s stare gentled, and it held you steady in your uncertainty. Not uncertainty in what you wanted- you wanted him. But uncertainty in your own inexperience.

Still, your blacksmith pressed, “Tell me what you want, princess.”

You pushed past the self-consciousness that tugged in your chest, “I- I want you to fuck me.”

As the words fell from your lips, something palpable shifted in the air between you. For a moment you thought he would take you right there on the anvil, but he was still looking at you with concern in his dark eyes. He tucked a curl behind your ear.

“I’m going to be gentle with you, okay?”

You couldn’t seem to get any words past the lump of anticipation in your throat, so you nodded.

March leaned close again so you could feel his words on your lips. “And I’m gonna talk you through it, alright?”

Again, you couldn’t seem to speak. So you nodded. The movement brushed your mouths together, and March captured yours in a featherlight kiss. You felt his chapped lips move against your own for just a moment. Your hands, still lamentably covered in smithing gloves, dared to rest upon his chest. When March pulled away, you chased his kiss, finally moving to peel your hands free of the gloves. He held up a single finger to your lips in a gentle reprimand. You weren’t sure why that sent sparks of electricity straight down your spine.

Before you could reconsider, you sucked the finger into your mouth, tongue playing on the forge-roughened skin you found there. You could see March’s careful tenderness fighting against his own arousal and, for just a moment, his need won out as he bucked his hips between your thighs. You had touched yourself before, but you had never felt the desire that flooded through you in that moment.

He pulled his finger from between your lips with a wet pop and moved his hand to cup your jaw. Again, his gaze locked with yours. There was a softness in his eyes that, during your first seasons in Mistria, you never would have imagined the grumpy blacksmith could muster.

His other hand finally moved from your hip to join the one cupping your jaw, and his lips met yours again. He let you deepen the kiss for a moment, and you swore the prickles rushing through your veins were magic, more than you had felt from any of the incantations inside your spellbook.

March pulled back just enough to murmur into the kiss, “Let me take care of you, farm girl.”

You moaned into him in response, bare hands finding the smithing apron on his chest.

“That’s a good girl.”

You felt March smile against your lips at the shudder he sent through you. You melted like a piece of ore on the anvil beneath him, and you hoped he would shape you into something beautiful.

His hands smoothed out the skirt of your overalls and an untamed fear that he would pull away made your stomach flip over itself. But instead, March’s hands wrapped around your wrists where they still rested on his chest. They felt frozen in your own fear that your inexperience would ruin this searing thing between you. His hands circled your wrists with ease, but his hold was soft. As he guided your arms around his neck, he planted kisses along your jawline that stoked the heat in your core like underbrush in a wildfire.

“Wrap your legs around me.” there was no authority in his voice, just raw desire. This wasn’t an order. Why did you wish it was?

When your legs remained in place hanging from where you sat atop the anvil, a spark you couldn’t quite place lit up his face.

“Do you want to stop?”

You shook your head, coherent language feeling far away. You had a feeling he knew exactly what you wanted.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?”

You nodded desperately.

Now there was the sharp edge of power in his voice, just enough to send a shiver between your legs. “Then wrap your fucking legs around me.”

As he stared down at you, the look in his eyes was pure indulgence. He was giving you what you needed, and if it was too much, you knew he would stop the moment you asked. This time, you complied. As your legs locked together behind his back, his hands moved to support your rear as he lifted you off his anvil. Your head found its resting place in the crook of his neck and his breath was hot on your ear.

“That’s it, so good for me,” the praise fell from his lips like a litany. Your wetness pressed against the flat of his abdomen and you couldn’t help but buck your hips, desperate for any amount of friction to ease your burning need. March nipped at your earlobe and down your neck.

“Patience is a virtue, farm girl,” his growl went straight to your aching center. You thought you were being very patient while he fumbled for the door with one hand; his other still gripping your ass while his lips still toyed with your neck. Finally, he carried you over the threshold and into his shop. It was late enough that Olric was sound asleep, but you didn’t even think about that. March’s lips and voice and the bulge between his thighs consumed your mind. You felt like you could sob from relief when you felt his plush comforter meet your back as he laid you reverently on his bed. It smelled of cedarwood and sage. He had positioned you right on the edge of the mattress, so your legs still wrapped around him like a tether where he stood. You could feel his bulge pressed against you like an oath that you wished desperately he would keep.

You moved your arms from around his neck, carefully ghosting your fingers down his chest, feeling the hardness of his nipples beneath your timid touch; before venturing lower, lower. Just before you could explore what lay beneath his waistband, March stopped you with a gentle hand around your wrist. His touch was as infuriating as it was perfect, sending jolts of electricity through you as he held your hand above your head.

“Put your other hand up there, baby.”

You did, and his grip wrapped around both your wrists and held them above you. You felt your heart flutter nervously in your chest. All you could think of was your inexperience.

“I said I was gonna take care of you, Princess.” His voice was rough as hot coals, but his grip on your wrists was gentle. “Keep those hands up for me, alright?”

You nodded, torn between anxiety and impatience as his hand traveled from its place around your wrists, down to the clasps where the straps of your overalls held the garment in place. His nimble fingers unfastened your dress with ease. You arched your back so he could pull the overalls up and over your head, and he rewarded you with the sweetest press of his clothed cock against your soaked underwear. Your white undershirt was next. Finally, your underwear found its place on his bedroom floor, and you were completely bare before him. March drank in the sight of your nakedness like fine wine. His gaze stoked the fire in your belly and you turned to putty beneath him as his hands traced across the bare skin of your abdomen and up to the curve of your breasts. You groaned beneath his touch, arms locked in place above your head like he instructed.

“Good girl,” March purred. “Open your legs for me, princess.”

Drunk on his touch and his praise and your own arousal, you obeyed. You moved back on the bed slightly and planted your feet atop the edge of the mattress so you were spread for him. One of his hands ghosted its way to your hip, leaving behind a trail of gooseflesh. The other moved slowly, too slowly, even lower. When he finally ran a finger through your slick folds, you moaned his name. He pinched and circled the sensitive bud between your thighs in a way that had you certain you were staring at the stars and not the back of your eyelids.

“Look at me, baby. Have you touched yourself like this?”

You opened your eyes and the sight of his disheveled hair and his greedy eyes devouring you sent shivers down your back. He was still fully clothed, but here you were, naked and keening beneath him. You thought that turned you on a little too much. The blacksmith slid a finger inside you.

“Y-yeah, March, fuck-”

“How about this?”

You nodded, and his finger began to move inside you. You had touched yourself, but you weren’t sure you had ever felt this sensitive before. As he curled his finger within you, white-hot pleasure shot up your spine.

“I gotta get you ready for me, princess. This okay?”

When you moaned in assent, he kept moving within you. Then, he pushed another finger inside you and you thought you might combust. March hummed his approval as he stood leaning over you, looking down at you unraveling on the bed before him. You felt his fingers move in and out of you, your slick easing the wa. You felt fuller than you ever had before; but still, you longed for more.

“March, please,” your plea came out in a whimper.

He withdrew his fingers from your cunt, sucking them into his mouth like ripe fruit on a summer’s day.

“Are you ready?”

You had never felt more ready for anything in your entire life.

“March, I need you inside.”

Your blacksmith straightened from his position, leaning over you; and on his lips was a self-satisfied smirk that you wanted desperately to kiss away.

“Lean back on my pillow.”

You repositioned yourself to lie properly on his bed, head coming to rest upon his pillow. March removed each piece of his clothing one by one until he was as bare as you. You stared at the spot between his thighs, entranced by him. You had never seen a cock before and you suddenly felt unsure that it could fit inside you.

“You promise it won’t hurt?” You couldn’t quite bring yourself to feel embarrassed by the question.

March’s words were hot on your ear as the warmth of his body finally perched atop yours on the bed.

“I would never hurt you.”

A shiver ran down your spine. March eased himself down so that his body was flush with yours; the warmth of his naked skin driving you mad with desire. You could feel the hard length of his cock press against your thigh. Your arms wrapped around his neck instinctively, pulling him closer.

“March,” his voice fell from your lips like water.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Take me,” you pleaded, voice just above a whisper.

You never thought you would find yourself underneath March in his bed, begging him to take your maidenhead. But you had never wanted anything more than you wanted him to be inside of you at this moment.

“I’m gonna go slow for you, alright? Tell me if it hurts and we can stop.” March looked down at you; and you could see that the tenderness in his gaze was restraining his raw desire to ravish you completely. “We can stop whenever you need.”

You nodded. The movement of March’s skin against yours as he adjusted himself sent fire through every nerve in your body. He finally positioned his cock at your seeping entrance and you arched your back until his length provided you with just a touch of that desperately needed friction. March lowered his head until his lips brushed against your ear.

“I’m going to push inside you now, princess.”

Your breath hitched in anticipation. He pushed through your slick folds ever-so-slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size a little at a time. You had never felt anything like this; pressure all over, his cock sliding against your wetness with gratifying ease. When your lover was fully seated inside you, he held himself over you with admiration in his eyes.

“You look so fucking beautiful beneath me.”

March’s lips met yours in a gentle kiss, and he pulled away just enough to murmur, “Is it okay if I start moving, baby?” You arched your back in response, desperate to feel more.

“Please-” The thrust of his hips stole the rest of your reply from your mouth, reduced to an incoherent keen. March began to move within you, and even this languid pace took your breath away. The stretch of his cock pushing against your walls was almost too much, the pleasure bordering on sweetest pain but never quite reaching it. March kept his promise to never hurt you. He reached one hand down to trace lazy circles over your clit. His every movement sent licks of fire through your body until you had to close your eyes and moan.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled in your ear. “You make such sweet little noises for me.”

The praise couples with each thrust of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot had you seeing fireworks. You felt a warm hand wrap around your wrists where they wrapped around his neck. He repositioned your arms above your head, his thrusts becoming wilder as he chased his own pleasure and your own.

“Open your eyes, princess. I want you to look at me, okay?”

You were glad to be laid down because the gentle authority in his voice made your knees weak. He never pushed, only took what you were ready to give. And you were ready to give him absolutely everything.

You opened your eyes. The sight of March atop you could have been a painting, red hair falling around his dark eyes, his forehead scrunched with effort as he moved in and out.

“Good girl, doing everything I ask,” the words fell from March’s lips like a mantra as he held himself above you with his hand around your wrists. The finger on your clit sped up in time with his thrusts inside you, your thoughts reduced to chasing the sensations he was giving to you. You were getting so close, March coaxing you to the edge of your climax until you cried out beneath him. You had never felt like this before. The feeling of him deep inside you while rubbing your clit was almost too much. Finally, you cried out beneath him, seeing stars. His finger slowed its circles, but his thrusts grew more erratic as your climax clenched around him.

“Where d’you want me to finish, princess?” His rough voice told you he was close.

“Inside, please March, please-”

“You certain?” Despite his self-satisfied smirk, pleased with himself for reducing you to such a begging mess, the question was serious. You could tell he wanted to be sure you wanted this.

“Please, March- Please make me yours.”

With your permission, his restraint finally snapped. “Mine,” tumbled from his lips in a growl. March thrusted wildly, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you that made you whimper as he chased his climax, your hands still locked above your head. “Gods, you feel s- so good,” he had to fight to get the words out through his moans of pleasure. Now it was your turn to feel satisfied that you had reduced him to a mumbling, moaning mess.

When he reached his precipice, he cried out your name like a prayer. His thrusts slowed as he emptied himself inside you. When he bottomed out one last time, pushing his spend deep inside, you felt so impossibly full. So impossibly taken.

March let go of your wrists and your arms tightened around him as he lowered his body against yours, both of you catching your breath. He was slick with sweat as your arms moved around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. He hadn’t even pulled out of you yet. You thought that he should stay buried within you forever. You felt your name mumbled against your hair.

After a few sweet moments like that, March eased himself out of you. He pushed himself up on his elbows to stare down with assessing eyes. “Are you okay?” He smoothed a curl behind your ear. “Was that good for you? Was that too much?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, his insecurity sweet and a little unexpected. And completely misplaced, because you thought that might have been the best thing you had ever felt. When you told him that, his laughter joined your own.

You pulled his body back down against yours until his bare chest pressed against your own and your lips stole his in a tender kiss. You stayed like that for a while, tangled together, naked and kissing. Even the chaste movement of his lips against yours sent heady warmth through your body. When he finally pulled away, his eyes devoured your bared form, a hand traveling up your body to gently squeeze your breast. You arched your back into his touch.

March finally broke the silence as he flopped down next to you on the bed. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

You grinned and turned to lay your head on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat where you rested against him, the sound sending warmth through your limbs “How long?”

“Since you showed up in my shop with a stupid smile on your face and handed me a bag full of copper ore.”

You laughed in disbelief. “That was my first season in Mistria.” When you angled your head to look at March, a blush crept across his face.

“Yeah…” he admitted sheepishly.

You gently poked at his ribs in reprimand. “You ass! We could’ve done this months ago!”

“It scared me how much I wanted you. That’s why it took me so long to warm up to you, even after all the things you did for Mistria. ‘M sorry.”

You knew there was truth in his statement, but you’d seen March’s vanity. After all, you had studied him for months, despite trying to convince yourself it was a waste of time. You smiled into his chest, teasing. “Admit it, you were a little jealous of me.”

March ran his fingers through your hair. You heard the smile in his voice, “No clue what you mean.”

You laughed, “Yeah, right.”

March tipped your head back up to meet his gaze. “You were so perfect. It pissed me the fuck off. Now you’re so perfect that I just want you to be mine.” His other hand rested on your back.

You felt your cheeks heat as your response escaped your lips. “March, I’ve been yours since I got here.”

“I think we might need Valen to check you out. Your taste in men is shit.”

You laughed as you leaned up to kiss him. You tried not to think about the look Valen would give you in the morning when you purchased the morning after-tincture. March pulled you from your thoughts as his hands cupped your jaw, and you could have been kissing for minutes or hours or days before he pulled back to murmur sleepily against your lips.

“Just for the record, I’m yours too, farm girl.”

You drifted off to sweet slumber like that, tangled and bare in each other’s arms.

a/n: this is by far the filthiest thing i have ever written, please let me know what you thought! i would love to hear your feedback/favorite parts/requests for what i should write next! thank you so much for reading! and thank you so much to the response on my first fic!! i am still new here, so i will be posting a proper introductory post soon :)

🏷️: @xxchaosjojoxx

i love that you can just wear a bra in fields of mistria. because i will. i will make march look at me in my bra.

— fic masterlist

ao3 / about / fic requests [open]

deadpool & wolverine

logan howlett x reader

fics

✦ salvation | absolution - 3.1k | twoshot | explicit

(Logan x chubby!f!reader) Logan would worship your body for hours if you’d let him. He can’t help but prolong your pleasure before finding his own. He once told you that it’s because you deserve it so much more than he does.

misc.

✦ kinktober 2024 - masterlist | explicit

✦ stay at home dad logan - headcanons | fluff, sfw

✦ home (logan x wade x reader) - drabble | suggestive

fields of mistria

march x f!farmer

✦ carry me home - 3.8k | oneshot | mature

It didn’t matter how his steely gaze had gentled like molten ore these last few weeks. It didn’t matter that the few times the farmer couldn’t avoid March completely, his words didn’t have the same bitter edge they had that first season in Mistria. Maybe that was just her imagination, anyway. Wishful thinking, she told herself. So, when Olric asked Ariana to help him and his brother out at the forge, she tried not to get her hopes up. Or; a rewrite of the four-heart cutscene where March helps the farmer home after she sprains her ankle at the forge. Then, they finally confront their feelings.

march x f!reader

✦ something beautiful - 4.2k | oneshot | explicit

You felt March smile against your lips at the shudder he sent through you. You melted like a piece of ore on the anvil beneath him, and you hoped he would shape you into something beautiful. Or; you discover you have a praise kink. March indulges you and takes your virginity in the process.

✦ touch starved - 2.1k | oneshot | explicit

March was touch-starved. But he preferred the sting in his eyes when your face fell as he pulled away from you to the ache in his heart when he let himself hold you. At least, that’s how it was at first.

✦ vampire!march au - wip (eventual series) | sfw for now

hayden x f!reader

✦ sugarplum - 1.6k | oneshot | explicit

“You know I’m not done with you, right, baby doll?” His voice was rough, breath tickling your cheek as he ground up into you. You nodded, knowing how ruined he’d have you by the time the night was over. Or; you had a long day. Hayden helps you unwind.

— other fandoms.

✦ anders x non-mage!hawke - headcanon/drabble | sfw

im working up a multi chapter vampire march au in my head but something else that has been floating around up here is an fic where farmer has a one night stand/a fling with olric just to make march jealous and it 100% works what do we think team

a poll before bed goodnight

— wip wednesday!

@eupheme thank you for tagging me!! this finally gave me the motivation to actually WRITE something for my vamp!march au instead of just planning or having concepts of a plan

so, this is a snippet from the first scene of the fic!! (i don't have a name for the fic yet- something about fangs and iron- silver fangs, iron heart? suggestions welcome)

The fog had cast a weary haze upon the town that day you arrived in Mistria. The land squelched with the trappings of spring rain beneath your boots, well-worn from your journey here—and many others before it. You had imagined the gentle kiss of sun on your face would welcome you to the sleepy town and your new life. But the skies were fickle as the fates that pulled you here.

The raven-haired merchant, Balor he had told you—helped you to cross the river into town. The bridge had been damaged in the earthquake. You could have easily crossed without his help, but you didn’t need to show off. All you needed was a good first impression. To start your retirement off strong. As you took his offered hand and your feet nimbly found the rocks below, all you saw in the ruined bridge was a job that needed to be done. That drive is what had made you such an efficient adventurer. That drive had slowly worn you out.

tags: literally anybody! please show me what you're writing! especially if it is about logan or march ;)

dividers from @saradika-graphics ♡

Hiii just came across your vampire!march au/fic idea! Could you tell us any more about it?

omg thank you so much for asking!! ♡

i'm still in the early stages of writing, so everything is subject to change! here is some info about the characters/settings that i have bouncing around my brain as i write! i'm also working on character moodboards that i'll probably post at some point

and i'm heavily leaning towards proper enemies to lovers for this story *rubs hands together evilly*

fields of mistria march x farmer vampire!au headcanons below the cut! (sfw)

march

✧ older than he looks, but not old old. he is still a relatively young vampire. turned in his 20s, now in his 40s or 50s.

✧ olric is his biological brother and they were turned around the same time.

✧ they've lived in mistria for 7 years or so. their condition is secret. the villagers haven't really noticed that they don't age much- with the effects of potions/magic, it is not terribly uncommon for aging to be slowed somewhat (kind of like plastic surgery in today's world)

✧ march struggles with vampirism more than olric. when he was first turned, march struggled especially with self-control.

✧ he hasn't fed on a human in more than a decade. he feeds on animals. the other villagers believe he is a hobbyist hunter, he'll bring back animals to the shop to process.

✧ he uses the leather or antlers in some of his projects, but he is a blacksmith first. he stores the blood for use over the week or so between hunts.

✧ his greatest desire is for his existence to mean something. his greatest fear is that he is nothing more than a monster.

farmer

✧ f!farmer (planning on 2nd person pov but i am still on the fence)

✧ "retired" adventurer, familiar with hunting monsters

✧ suspicious of and unfortunately attracted to the grumpy blacksmith

✧ pathological need to help others sometimes at your own expense

✧ moving to a derelict farm and rebuilding a partially destroyed town is your idea of a "relaxing retirement"

olric

✧ olric literally 100% eats rocks idk what to say

✧ he's kind of a himbo because the iron in the rocks isn't exactly enough to like... meet all of his nutritional needs. but he's happy. so it's fine.

✧ happy rock muncher olric lives in my head rent free i'm so serious

thank you @saradika-graphics for the dividers ♡

i also went back and tagged everything i've posted so far about this wip under #vamp au

— touch starved march x f!reader | masterlist

synopsis:

March was touch-starved. But he preferred the sting in his eyes when your face fell as he pulled away from you to the ache in his heart when he let himself hold you. At least, that’s how it was at first.

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble in response to a request for more march smut, but i got a little bit carried away!

notes/warnings: smut below the cut (18+ only mdni), magically protected unprotected p i v, oral sex (f. receiving), come eating, slight angst, porn with feelings, happy ending

word count: 2.1k

When you first got together, March wasn’t much of a cuddler. He was touch starved, sure, and his hands were glued to your form during your couplings. Squeezing your breasts, your hips, your thighs as he moved inside you. Fingers tangled in their grip on your hair while he fucked you hard and deep. He could write that contact off as mere attraction. As casual sex. That wasn’t what he was afraid of.

But the feeling that bloomed deep in his chest when he held you after your trysts? That terrified him. So did the way his heart hammered within his ribcage as his eyes followed you down his street, your worn boots heavy against the stone as you marched towards him at his anvil. It used to annoy him, the way you seemed to stomp everywhere. You didn’t do it out of anger, but out of some childish carelessness that he didn’t understand.

“I wont hurt the stone, will I? I’m not that strong! It’s just how I walk!” you had told him one day, laughing. That annoyance had melted into a fondness that he didn’t want to acknowledge. He didn’t want to acknowledge the way his lips tugged upwards in a smile when he saw you tread softly across the grass of the town’s gardens, or as you carefully snaked your way through the fields on your farm as he watched you water the crops each morning.

He stood by the window, when he woke up in your farmhouse. He’d mumble something about being too tired to walk home as he lay in your bed the night before, turning his back to you before drifting off to the sound of your breathing. He’d wake up to a cold bed, padding across the wooden floor to admire you through panes of glass, head peeking out from behind your half-drawn curtains. Quickly darting back into cover whenever you turned towards the farmhouse.

March was touch-starved. But he preferred the sting in his eyes when your face fell as he pulled away from you to the ache in his heart when he let himself hold you. At least, that’s how it was at first.

During your first winter together, you huddled under his covers, warming up after the walk from your farm. You were shivering. He didn’t like the way your hands looked a little bloodless when you took off your mittens. So he warmed your freezing fingers with his own. He didn’t pull away when you pressed against the warmth of his body in his bed. Logically, he knew your chill wasn’t dangerous. The crisp air wasn’t cold enough to cause any real damage— the wind was just especially bad that day.

But as he saw you made weak with the cold, his headstrong farmer with the booming steps and the warm laugh that filled any room effortlessly, something uneasy bubbled within him. He realized there was something that scared him more than the love he felt for you (because he knew deep down that it was love). What scared him most was losing you.

And as much as you wanted him (he could tell you loved him too), he could see your hope waning day by day. Each time he turned his back to you as he fell asleep. Each time he grunted in greeting instead of pulling you into a tight hug and kissing every inch of skin he could reach. Each time he insisted you infuriated him more than anyone else he had ever met (that much was true, just not in the way you thought).

And he knew that someday you would leave him. You would find someone else. Maybe Hayden, maybe Celine. Maybe one of the other eligible singles in town. You’d find someone who would give you the affection you craved. The affection you deserved. The affection he was too much of a coward to give.

Maybe you’d even leave Mistria altogether. Erase him from your life completely. Your hope that he would ever want you as anything more than a warm body to lose himself in would fade altogether. Because you didn’t realize he hadn’t just lost himself in your body. He had also lost himself in your soul.

Maybe it was good that he was a coward. Because he was too terrified of losing you to let it happen.

That winter night, once your body was finally warm against his, he didn’t pull away from where he spooned you. He traced the curve where your hips dipped into your waist. He snaked his hand beneath your sweater as you breathed his name like a prayer. Like a prayer that you never thought he would answer. But his hand cupped your breast with a tenderness that was always absent before. You tried to hide your gasp at the touch.

He finally let himself to map your body with the care it deserved. His touch was less sex and more adoration. But that didn’t stop his cock from growing hard against your ass as you writhed back into him, his fingers almost ticklish against your skin.

He finally dipped his hand into your underwear, already damp. You were desperate for him, grinding against his palm.

“I don’t just love your body.” March’s voice was a whisper as his lips ghosted against the shell of your ear. “Love the rest of you, too.”

He didn’t let you answer before he slid a finger into your slick heat. His finger moved slowly at first, stretching you out at a languid pace. When he added a second, it slid in with ease. His other hand was nestled beneath you, holding tight across your front. Holding your back against his chest so there was no room between you.

“Let me get you ready, baby. Don’t wanna hurt you ever again.”

He kept stretching you out, moans falling from your lips until you found three words that had been straining to get out for minutes while he fucked you with his fingers.

“You love me?”

Your voice was coated in disbelief, in forbidden hope. He felt a dampness beneath his cheek, from where your tears had stained the pillow. He began to retract his fingers from you, pulling back so that you could face him. But you whined at the loss of contact.

“Don’t stop, March, please—” he could hear the tears in your voice before you looked behind you to meet his gaze.

March was stunned as he watched tears stain your cheeks. He wasn’t good with feelings. That was why he kept them in check, denied them, hid them. His stomach felt like it was in a free-fall. He had no clue why you were crying, but he used the edge of his palm to wipe your face, his blue sleeve made darker with your tears.

“A- are you okay?”

He cursed how weak he sounded. That he did this to you. He was trying to make things better between you. Now it seemed like he had only made them worse.

But you just smiled up at him, eyes still painting your cheeks with a glittering sheen.

“Never been better.”

Relief was like a balm. He finally let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

You turned your back to him again. But it wasn’t the same as what he did to you every night you shared a bed. You ground your ass against his crotch, his hard-on a little softer now from his misreading of the situation.

“Need you, March,” you whined, face half-pressed against the mattress for leverage.

The need in your voice sent blood straight back to his cock. It wasn’t long before he was inside you with his cock instead of his fingers. Both your clothes were discarded somewhere in the covers, your back pressed against his chest again. Your slickness welcomed him home, sliding against his glides in and out as he fucked you soft and slow. He didn’t need to thrust hard to find that spot that had you keening. He buried his face against your hair as you took each other lazily, your hips moving back to meet each languid thrust. You smelled like lilac and fresh snow.

He told himself you wouldn’t be able to hear the words if he said them into your hair. He knew that he was lying to himself. But that didn’t stop him from chanting muffled I love you’s like a mantra.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

His pace slowed so he could move himself on top of you. He repositioned his cock, desperate to feel your heat around him once again. His elbows rested on either side of your head so he could watch your every expression as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. No words left his lips now, like you had cast a spell that he didn’t want to break. So as he rolled his hips against yours, he drank in the sight of you to the sound of your wetness and his movements within it. To the sweet little moans you made while he pleasured you.

He wanted to see your face while you came on his cock. He moved one hand down, down, down, until he could rub soft circles against your clit. You bucked up into him, urging him faster, needing more. The pace of his finger matched that of his thrusts as he brought both of you closer to the edge. He became frantic, sloppy, hips stuttering inside you while you cried out his name. He felt you clench around him while you came, and he fucked you gently through your orgasm before snapping his hips hard against yours to chase his own release.

He felt your sweet walls against his cock, bare thanks to a contraception charm from Juniper and a clear health check-up from Valen. He loved feeling your skin against his, nothing separating him from the deepest parts of you. He finished inside you with a groan, fucking his spend deeper within you as he rode out his orgasm.

His lips found yours in a tender kiss before pulling away to trace them down your body. His tongue circled your nipple, sucking gently before moving farther down. When he finally reached your center, he licked long and slow through your folds, tasting the mix of your pleasure and his. He cleaned his mess from your hole, fucking you with his tongue before moving back up to lick and suck and kiss your clit. You came against his diligent mouth, fingers tangled in his hair like a vice.

Later, he pulled you to the bathroom connected to his bedroom, letting you sit on the toilet while he warmed up the shower for you both. He hadn’t bathed with you before. Just another closeness he didn’t allow himself. As he kissed you beneath the spray of his shower-head, he promised to never hold himself back from you again.

So, when the two of you climbed beneath his covers, skin fresh and soft from your shared shower, he didn’t pull away or turn his back. He fell asleep with your head resting against his chest, heart full with the knowledge you could hear its beat. And he hoped you knew that it beat only for you.

Before you both drifted off, he heard a mumbled “I love you, too.”

Once that barrier within him was broken, he couldn’t keep his hands off you. In public, it was casual affection, a hand on the small of your back, a quick peck on the cheek. In private, he wanted to be near you whether or not you were fucking, his skin yearning for the comfort of your own. You rolled your eyes when he insisted you share the same cushion on your yellow couch while you read him adventure novels, insisting that you were too far. But he caught the way you would smile as you scooted closer and leaned into him. The light from the hearth painting your hair in warmth as you shook your head slightly and scanned the page for where you had left off.

Your shared life sprouted in little moments like that, finding comfort in each other. He wasn’t sure if he deserved you or the happiness you brought him. But he was tired of fighting it. So his lips curved into a resigned grin, and he pulled you even closer.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed it, please let me know in the replies or reblogs!! i've been writing more for logan recently, but you can have some march as a treat :-)

dividers by saradika-graphics!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fields of Mistria (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Farmer/March (Fields of Mistria), Female Farmer/March (Fields of Mistria) Characters: Farmer (Fields of Mistria), Female Farmer (Fields of Mistria), March (Fields of Mistria) Additional Tags: title from an usher song, Gender Play, Praise Kink, Daddy Kink, Crying, Forced Feminization, Light on that tag tho, Pet Names, named farmer - Freeform, Described Farmer, Mostly Pwp, Pegging, Spanking, Rimming, ass eating, pussy eating, Female Daddy, degradation kink, Possessive Sex, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Begging, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, dom/sub dynamics, Submissive March, dominant farmer, Ultimately they're switches but that's just the vibes for this fic, Aftercare, consent checks, Safe Sane and Consensual, Established Relationship, Bratting, Strap-Ons, Strap Sucking, Kink Negotiation, Minor CBT, Draconic Farmer, Tails, Panic Attacks, Vomiting, Alcohol, March gets drunk for a little, Hurt/Comfort, bottom march, Top Farmer Summary:

"C'mon," he whines, moving to bury his face in her shoulder. "Just one more beer, Daddy, please? It's Friday."

Beetle goes stiff under him, just for a moment, and then a hand comes up to his hair. She ruffles it, humming a low note, and leans forward. "Daddy, huh? You really are full of surprises, March."

Or, March lets one of his kinks slip out when he's more than a little sloppy on a Friday night. Luckily for him, his partner is more than willing to indulge him.