I Imagine A Work Day Between These Three Is Just Ryis Doing Damage Control 90% Of The Time...

i imagine a work day between these three is just ryis doing damage control 90% of the time...

shitty doodles (i love u march i love u i love u)

damn these canadians

this is finally crossposted to ao3! feel free to leave comments/kudos over there if you'd like to! thank you so much for the response on this fic!

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 :)

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my farmer, serena, and march :)

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