#Scandalous Highlanders | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

animasola86 · 5 months

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Doubts and Distractions

Notes: This is another part of my Scars-Series (“Sexy Times with Sharp”). Can be read individually, though. Read the whole collection on AO3. [PREVIOUS PART]

Pairing: Aesop Sharp x f!reader (with face scar)

Genre: Angst/Fluff/Smut // Words: 6.5k // [READ ON AO3]

Synopsis: You fall into a carousel of dread, overthinking everything, but once you're back in his arms, all seems forgotten.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Size difference. Age gap. Established student/teacher relationship. The cure for depression is sex, at least in this story.

Doubts and Distractions

It was one of those days. Winter was still heavy in the Highlands, snow everywhere, only a few hours of sunlight each day, it was dark and cold and damp and icy, especially inside the castle. And while it was the perfect season to cuddle up in front of a fireplace, you couldn't quite enjoy it.

Because you'd never be able to do what your classmates were doing.

The coldest season was just another excuse for those pesky couples to show their happy love lives to everyone caring to look (or too slow to look away). You didn't want to see them giggling, holding hands, hugging, snogging in dark corners, bodies pressed together as if they were one, with no care in the world for who might witness those very public displays of affections.

At the end of the day, nobody cared about a happy pair of sixteen or seventeen or eighteen-year-olds. It wasn't as scandalised anymore, nothing out of the ordinary. The castle was big, they'd find their place to make out, and they weren't really bothering anyone, but still you felt as if they were rubbing it in, reminding you of what you wanted to do but never could.

You had to fall in love with an older man, with a teacher no less, with whom it was indeed still very scandalous to engage in these activities (and more), and you knew you didn't want to risk either his job or your expulsion, but the need to parade him around was growing stronger and stronger, especially since everyone looked at you as if you were the odd one out because you didn't have anyone to snog in dark corners.

Or so they thought. And every day the looks seemed to become more pitiful, some even hostile, because you kept looking at them, longingly, not for their significant other, but because you wanted to do this too. With him.

It would never happen, and you had to live with that realization – on top of the growing dread of what might happen after your graduation. You already spent barely any time together, and the exams were approaching fast, and you knew you'd have even less time then. It pained to think about, it hurt so much you spent your days wallowing in your own sorrow, barely paying attention in class, running into other students because you were so deep in thought, and while they distanced themselves more and more from you for your strange behaviour, you fell deeper and deeper into this carousel of fear and sadness.

Come evening, you'd be so tired from overthinking, you sometimes even fell asleep in your own dorm room, in a bed you hadn't used in quite some time, and come morning, you could add guilt and regret onto your growing list of problems because you'd ditched the one good thing in your life. And the spiral continued.

Sometimes he'd call you to his desk after class to check up on you, and once the last student had left his classroom, you'd silently throw your arms around him and cry into his shoulder. He'd hold you quietly, his strong arms around you as he pulled you onto his lap. You couldn't even explain to him what was wrong with you. “Seasonal depression,” you called it once, and he didn't urge you to elaborate further.

You gave him a quick kiss to the lips and stood up again, wiping at your wet cheeks. He looked at you with even more creases on his forehead, one hand caressing your lower back soothingly while his other hand moved up to trail his thumb over your scar. His dark eyes were warm and compassionate. As usual you didn't say much, you just forced a small smile and hugged him once more, before you excused yourself to leave for your next class.

Reluctantly he let you go, watching you with a deep frown, being none the wiser. He had no idea what was wrong with you, why you were so tired, so sad. Did they bully you again? Were you sad you couldn't engage with those boys who seemed to have an interest in you? Were you starting to regret your relationship with him?

He knew he couldn't give you everything you desired. He was older, he was your teacher, there were so many obstacles between you, and he couldn't even hold your hand in public, as much as he wanted to. Unbeknownst to you, he shared many of your concerns. What would happen after you graduated? How could he be there for you more, show you how much he needed you, making you feel loved and cherished without being able to parade you around publicly?

His own thoughts took over, and he found himself lying in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, waiting for you to join him, yet the gnawing doubts got the better of him. You might not come again. Were you actively distancing yourself from him because the thought of losing him at the end of the school year was too much to bear?

He fell asleep with his heart heavy and a tight knot in his stomach.

You had spent your day thinking too, dodging those couples, ignoring their carefree laughter, but they seemed to be everywhere you looked. It was a strange phenomenon: if you see one, you see them all. And they were all around you, looking deep into their eyes, caressing each other's faces, tucking strands of hair behind their ears, teasing one another playfully, smiling, giggling, moving closer, oblivious to where they were.

Dinner was the worst, as the lights dimmed and they felt safer in the shadows. Sighing deeply, you left the Great Hall, mindlessly walking through the dark, cold corridors, dodging those kissing sounds like they were venomous spiders ready to pounce on you. Your head was spinning with those same sombre thoughts, and you were almost at the entrance of your common room when you stopped walking, forcibly turning around, shooing those thoughts away, focusing on the light amongst them.

You'd almost missed the chance to see him again.

It was later than usual when you sneaked through the Faculty Tower under the Disillusionment charm. Even the prefects seemed busy cuddling up and seeking out warmth on their patrols, so you made it to his door without any run-ins. But when you entered his quarters quietly, locking the door behind you, you noticed the dim lights.

He was already asleep.

And he needed his sleep, you knew that. Still you moved on, shedding the cloaking charm and your clothes on your way to his bed. His gentle snores echoed through the room, and he stirred slightly when you crawled under the covers, carefully pressing your body against his, finding your way into his arms. Inhaling deeply, you settled beside him, savouring the warmth and comfort of his taller frame.

You were about to fall asleep as well when he turned slightly, wrapping his arms more firmly around you, pulling you tighter against him. His nose nuzzled against your cheek, and you turned your head to him, looking at him out of hooded eyes, pleasantly surprised to see his dark gaze meeting yours.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, a short, gentle kiss, then rested his face close to yours afterwards, breathing deeply against you. Your hand found his rough face, your fingers trailing his scar and his bearded chin. Seeing him this close made your heart swell – and tighten at the same time.

Suddenly you were back thinking that you only had so long to see this face, this man, before everything changed. Soon you had to leave, leave this school, leave him, expected to lead a normal life without him. A single sob escaped you before you buried your face in the crook of his neck and let the tears flow freely.

He held you closer instantly, trying to squeeze your sorrow out of you. “Sweetheart, what's wrong?” he murmured deeply against you, his voice vibrating through you.

“N-nothing,” you croaked, forcing the tears away but the lump remained in your throat.

“This is not nothing,” he replied quietly. “Every time you see me, you burst into tears lately...”

“Oh,” you said after a moment, considering his words, your heart skipping a beat. “Oh!” You leaned back, staring at him with wide eyes. “It's not because of you!” you said quickly, cupping his face and giving him a frantic kiss. “I'm just... I...” you stammered, unable to get the words out.

He watched you closely. “You can tell me anything,” he whispered, rubbing his hands over your back in soothing circles.

“I miss you,” you said quietly, holding back a new batch of tears.

He frowned at that. “But I'm right here...”

“I... I know, but... I do, and every time I see you, I miss you even more...”

“You miss me... pre-emptively?” he mused.

You nodded shyly. “I suppose...”

“Sweetheart, I know you worry about graduation, and... your life afterwards,” he said quietly, pulling you slightly closer. “But there's still a lot of time before that. You shouldn't concern yourself with that just yet. Enjoy the time we have...”

You pursed your lips and stared at his chin, breathing deeply. His sigh almost sounded like a groan, and you looked up timidly.

“That's not all, is it?” he asked. His voice had that edge to it that he always uses in class, right before he takes house points from a student for not meeting his expectations. Yet there was a twinkle in his eyes, and you knew he liked to tease you with that voice sometimes.

You nod gingerly. “I... always miss you, not just pre-emptively, thinking about the future, but also during the day, because everywhere I look there are these... couples... and...” He sighed again, but you kept going. “I know I can't do those things with you, and I've accepted it, but it's so hard to not think about it when there's snogging people all around me...”

“Yes, winter time is the worst for that, hm?” he mused with a low, almost bitter chuckle.

You press your face to his neck, inhaling deeply. “And because I think about that all the time, I get tired and I forget that I could do all those things too, just in the safety of your room. I'm sorry I forgot about you last night, I didn't mean to...”

“I know, darling,” he said softly, kissing your cheek. “You're here now...” He held you closely for a moment, just feeling your warmth and soft breaths against his skin. “Is there anything else bothering you?”

You sighed, suddenly feeling childish even admitting your worries. “Well, most girls think I'm a pathetic loner because I don't have anyone to snog in dark corners like they do on the daily...”

His laugh was low and almost harsh, but it made you look up at him in surprise. “Oh, love, I told you you shouldn't worry about anything these girls say. I can't believe they found something new to pester you about, those wretched girls...”

He shook his head slightly, his face hard, eyebrows furrowed. His hand found your face, and he caressed your cheek softly, his eyes warming as he looked at you.

“Do not let them bother you, let them say whatever they want. At the end of the day, you know better, you have me, alright? I might not be able to... snog you in dark corners,” he said, and you smirked at the way he said those words, “but I am here for you, every night, and in between, if you need me. Never forget that.”

You nodded solemnly and swallowed the lump in your throat. The guilt for almost doing that still gnawed at your insides. He was right, of course, he was there for you, waiting every night. And wasn't that just as good as having a boy pin you to a wall in a dark corridor? Or better? Oh, it was better, because the things you were able to do in the safety of his quarters was beyond anything a snogging student could ever do, unless they had a private room on their own.

You didn't have to worry about roommates listening in, about sneaking into the boys' dorm at night and back into yours in the morning, or spending your nights in whichever broom closet just to be close to a lover. Your lover had a big bed and a large room, and all the amenities you could wish for (even a secret hobby room with a quite comfortable table). And all of a sudden you felt silly for being jealous of those girls who thought they had it all.

You had it much better. Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his with a happy smile. “Thank you,” you murmured against his mouth, locking eyes with him. He gave you a wink and deepened the kiss, rolling onto his back and pulling you on top of him. You settled there, savouring his warmth as much as he savoured yours, feeling the tension in his sore muscles easing under your comfortable weight.

For a moment you just kissed under the covers, exchanging body heat and gentle caresses, until he let out a groan, and with a sudden jolt, he rolled you around until he was lying on top of you, leaning on his elbows, his healthy leg angled slightly, while the rest of him pressed you deeper into the mattress. Despite not being able to breathe as deeply as before, you loved having him pin you down like that, his weight was a comfort you needed sometimes, and tonight was one of those nights – and you were lucky he knew exactly what you needed.

His large hands cradled your head, dug into your hair, tugged on it gently as he kissed you demandingly, while your arms wrapped around his back and pulled him even closer, your legs slowly inching apart to allow him to lay between them as you lost yourself in the kiss. His deep groans mixed with your soft mewls when he started grinding his hips against yours.

While you had sneaked into his bed already undressed, he still, like every night, had slipped into his pyjamas, a habit that was quite ingrained in him, so the only fabric between your clearly aroused sexes was the soft cotton of his trousers. It didn't stop you from feeling every hard inch of him, and normally, you would have been happy with grinding against him until you came, but tonight you wanted to feel him inside you, become one, feel that deep connection deep within you, preferably until the morning broke and you had to return to being just another student.

He seemed to read your mind as one of his hands slipped between your bodies and pushed his pyjama bottoms down enough to free his eager cock. You moaned softly when he used the same hand to rub at your clit, but you were already quite wet, so instead of preparing you further like he usually did, he just lined up his tip with your entrance, raising his hips only slightly, before he sank down and entered you in one fluid motion, though it took him a few more slow thrusts to slip fully in and bottom out inside you.

He paused then, resting within, letting you adjust to the stretch and fullness, while you kept kissing him hungrily, your tongue tangling with his. You welcomed the slight burning of his intrusion, your tense muscles screaming under it, but you knew how much he loved your tightness and how you initially strangled his cock with your walls until they slowly gave in, holding him comfortably.

The pain had always been a part of your love making, and you wouldn't have it any other way. He was so much bigger than you, it would always be like this, and despite your smaller frame, you were quite proud of how well you could accommodate him and his size. It was yet another thing you would never be able to brag about openly, but you slowly learned to cherish those things inside your own mind, for yourself, for him, knowing that it only concerned the both of you anyway.

When you hooked your legs around the back of his thighs, he knew you were ready for him to move, and while still kissing you almost lazily now, he started grinding against you, slow movements at first, gentle nudges, like soft little kisses of his crown against your cervix, before he pulled back more, arcing his hips, straining his thighs, then sinking in all the way again.

He repeated the motion for many moments, steady, slow but firm, his fingers back in your hair, while you pressed your hands to his shoulder blades, holding onto him, your heart pounding against his with how your chests were pressed together. Quiet whimpers escaped you every time he pushed into you a little harder, deeper, the mattress beneath you giving way with a slight bounce.

Eventually he braced himself on his elbows, leaning back only a little, his hot breaths ghosting your tingling lips as you looked up at him breathlessly. A hungry glint sat in his dark eyes, and you licked your lips while you watched him intently. The tension within your stomach built with every careful slam of his hips, and you snaked your arms around his waist, clawing your fingers into the thin fabric of his pyjama top to steady yourself against him as he finally started to move faster on top of you.

You tried to meet his powerful thrusts, and once you both found your rhythm, it didn't take many of those deep in and out motions within your tight walls to ignite the fire in your nerves that made your muscles even tighter, clamping around him needily, winding up that coil in your stomach until it burst into a million tiny lights, and you gasped and moaned beneath him, hands digging into his back as your body convulsed against him.

His noises grew louder, deeper, a steady thrum of sounds vibrating through your limbs, adding to the sensation, but he kept going, pushing hard and deep, pulling back and slamming down once more, over and over again, while the bed creaked around you.

And when he felt the same tightness in his stomach and lower in his balls, he let out a low grunt as he gave you that final thrust, deeper than anything before as he smacked right into your cervix and came, and you came with him once more at the sudden pain coursing through you, and while your walls tightened around him, milking him, he painted your insides with his seed, sharing his warmth, coaxing those sweet little mewls out of you as you moulded to his body, melting beneath him, your tiny frame spasming slightly as you succumbed to your second orgasm.

Your legs fell open, thighs twitching, your breaths slowly easing. He leaned his head on the pillow next to yours and kissed your cheek, closing his eyes as fatigue washed over him, his aching muscles silenced for the moment, but he knew the soreness would come back soon.

He grew heavier on top of you, pushing you deep into the mattress, his body relaxing slowly. You held him tightly, arms wrapped around his waist, breathing deep. Your connection was still intact, his spent cock resting just as heavy inside you, the warmth and wetness you both built up slowly seeping out, but you didn't care.

You wanted to feel him, all of him, as close as possible, and there was no way you could become any closer than you were right now. And despite the realization that you couldn't remain like this forever as the post-haze clarity set in, you tried to cherish the feeling now, enjoy the moment, not think about the future too much.

And somehow you fell asleep, a content smile on your face.

When you woke up the next morning, he had rolled off you, pulling you with him, nestling you in his arms, holding you close, but no longer as close as before, judging by the empty feeling inside you. You felt the slight aching and bruising he left behind, but that was it. Sighing deeply, you snuggled against his chest, hands gripping his pyjama top, never wanting to let go.

He stirred a little, issuing a deep grunt, his breath ghosting your forehead. Moving against him, you pushed yourself closer until you could plant a series of kisses on his neck and up his jaw until you met his mouth. To your surprise he was awake enough to move his lips against yours, a soft, lazy kiss to slowly wake up fully to. Humming into his mouth, you savoured the warmth of his touch.

“Can we stay in bed today?” you mumbled, your hands sliding into his hair, pulling him closer, as you deepened the kiss.

He let out a groan, a low noise deep in his throat. “Hmm... fine,” he murmured between kisses, and you had to lean back in shock and surprise as you stared at him, thinking you might have misheard him.

“Really?” you asked in excitement, a new wave of heat rushing into your stomach.

“Of course,” he replied with the hint of a smirk on his lips. You were about to compliment him for finally taking a break, giving his classes a rest for at least a day, he definitely deserved more sick days, but then he added: “It's Saturday, we can stay in here till Monday morning if you like...”

You let out a little groan of your own before you chuckled. “Promise?” you challenged with a twinkle in your eyes, and he laughed too, pulling you in for another kiss.

“Anything for you, my love,” he muttered against your lips.

You hummed happily and moved your tongue lazily against his, now content this wasn't about to end any time soon. Still you felt the urge to make the most of it, knowing it would be over eventually, and before you felt relaxed enough to allow the carousel of dread to spin once more, you busied yourself by gently rolling him onto his back and quickly climbing on top of him.

He watched you out of tired eyes, his hands on your waist as you settled on his hips, slowly grinding against him. “You're truly insatiable, aren't you?” he muttered in his low voice.

You smirked at him. “That's why you like me, right?”

“Love you,” he corrected, and you blushed deeply and dove in to press a quick kiss to his lips. “That's why I love you, yes,” he said again, smiling softly. You sighed contently and showered his rough face with little pecks, dragging your lips gently over his scar and down over his bearded jaw.

He closed his eyes and let you do your thing, relaxing beneath you. “How's your leg?” you whispered after a moment, with your mouth pressed to his neck, your tongue teasingly gliding over his pulse. “You've missed a few of my massages,” you added, feeling a pang of guilt as you mentioned it.

“Indeed I have,” he hummed back. “But it's alright, don't worry your pretty little head so much...”

You scoffed. “I will never not worry, and I want you to feel good.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

You were playing with the buttons of his pyjama top now, slowly revealing more of his skin as you kissed your way down his chest. “Let me make you feel good...”

“I feel good,” he grumbled, his hand moving along the back of your head as you slipped deeper down his body, leaving open-mouthed kisses on his stomach now.

“You could feel better,” you whispered, your fingers hooking around the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. “Don't you want to feel better?”

He only grunted in response, leaning back, his hands falling to his sides as he gave in. You looked up at him with a smirk, pressing your lips to his lower stomach before you slowly pulled his trousers down. But instead of moving straight to his already hardening member, you moved lower, pulling his bottoms down all the way and discarding them somewhere on the floor before you slowly made your way back up, your hands closing around his left leg.

A shiver rushed through him as you started your massage, your fingers digging gently but firmly into his tense muscles. He closed his eyes and relaxed into your ministrations. Over the months you'd learned exactly how you could touch him, how to ease the soreness, how to make him feel like he had never felt before, or at least not for a very long time.

Your touch was magical, and he suspected you'd learned to pour your magic into it as well. Unbeknownst to him, you had no idea what you were doing, you just tried your best and just wanted to make him feel better, because he deserved it, because you loved him.

In the end both of you knew that love was a powerful thing, it gave you the courage to continue on this path that led into a dark, unknown future, and it gave him the peace of mind to enjoy these unsolicited touches without doubts and second guessing anything.

He groaned, his eyes opening lazily, when your hands closed around his thigh and pressed hard, thumbs and fingers kneading his skin, stimulating the tight muscles, squeezing with just the right amount of strength. He'd never have guessed what power resided in your tiny body, you were so frail and fragile compared to him, but met with the right obstacles, you very easily overcame them all, and selflessly so.

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of discomfort. Always so considerate. Sometimes a little too much even. You were kneeling between his legs, your hands so close to where he might need you just a little bit more. He flexed his leg slightly to show you that your massage had worked already, but you kept your fingers wrapped around his thigh, pressing them rhythmically into his sore flesh.

His hand moved down to brush against your knee as he watched you, how your hair fell over your shoulders, covering the top of your breasts, and he wanted to reach out and tuck it away to get a better look, but he felt too relaxed to do so. His eyelids became heavy again, and eventually he succumbed to the effect your touches had on his body.

You watched him as he closed his eyes, his breaths deep and calm, and you pursed your lips as you realized he'd fallen asleep once more. Or was about to. A mischievous grin spread on your lips as you moved your hands from his thigh to the limb you'd ignored so far, lying tall and proud on his lower stomach, definitely ready for the taking.

A little chuckle escaped you as you saw his eyes flutter open in surprise when you closed your hands around his cock, continuing your eager massaging by pressing your fingers against the hardened core before you moved the hot skin up and down with gentle motions, but you only teased at his sensitive tip. His eyes were almost black as he stared at you, a certain hunger on his gruff features.

And before you knew it, he sat up and grabbed your wrists, prying your hands off him, before he hooked his own hands under your arms and spun you around. It all happened so fast, he was so agile all of a sudden, that you merely issued a surprised yelp as you ended up lying on your stomach while he slowly climbed on top of you, straddling your hips until he lay down fully on your back, pushing you deeper into the mattress and all air out of your lungs, his hard cock resting in the cleft between your arse cheeks.

His lips found the back of your neck, then moved around until he kissed your cheek, his hands cradling your head, turning it gently so you could look at him out of the corner of your eye. You were surprised by how nimble he was this morning, but it was a very welcome surprise. It made you remember that time he took you to (and in) his secret hobby room for the first time...

A little moan escaped you at the memory and when he nibbled on your earlobe. “I told you I feel good,” he whispered into your ear, causing goosebumps to ripple over your skin. He leaned back then, his big hands on your shoulders before he shrugged off his pyjama top and sat down firmly on your thighs. “Let me take care of you today,” he said softly, his fingers digging into your unusually tense nape.

The groan that came out of your throat when he started massaging your shoulders was low and raw, and you shuddered slightly under his tight grip. He was strong, and you knew he held himself back for your sake, but he was still applying enough pressure to make you whimper in a pain you hadn't known before. But the more he kneaded your muscles, the better it felt, and your pained whimpers turned into soft mewls that made his heart beat faster.

You felt him pausing, his hands resting on your warm skin before they moved lower, along the sides of your body, around your hips and back to your plump cheeks where he continued his kneading for a moment, coaxing more noises past your trembling lips. His fingers slipped lower then, testing the waters as he dipped some between your wet folds, teasing at your entrance.

Shivers crashed down your spine but you remained completely immobile beneath him, even when he pushed a finger into your tightness, sinking it as deep as his knuckles allowed, prodding your walls and curling it inside you until he brushed against that sweet spot that made you gasp and squirm slightly.

Instead of assaulting that spot further, he retrieved his finger, making you mewl in disappointment, but he was too generous to leave you hanging, and when you felt his tip pushing between your thighs as he shifted on top of you, you braced yourself for his intrusion, your pussy clenching in anticipation.

He pushed in slowly, so slowly you writhed in impatience, as he made you feel every inch of his hard cock, from the bulbous tip to the ridges and veins of his shaft as he gave you those tiny slams of his hips, pressing deeper, stretching your walls, filling you out, until he was finally completely seated inside you. The prone position of your body allowed him to hit your special pleasure points differently, and you mewled when he scraped past your g-spot and cried out softly when he hit that other spot deep within.

This time he didn't let you adjust to his size, he moved back immediately, arching his hips, pulling out almost all the way, before he slammed back in, smacking his pelvis against your cushioned rear. You moaned loudly, and you kept moaning as he kept repeating the same pattern, and the more he moved in and out, the more light-headed you felt.

And it got even worse. His hands moved around your hips and pulled them up slightly before he grabbed them tightly, the new angle allowing him to really pound into you, and pound he did, rapid thrusts, no longer as deep, but fast and shallow, and every single slam pressed straight into that special spot.

You were barely able to process what he was doing as your first orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, completely catching you off guard. You cried out, spasming beneath him, stars dancing behind your eyelids as you pressed them shut. And he kept going, pushing you further, never allowing you to come down from that incredible high.

Your hands gripped the sheets tightly, knuckles turning white, your body arching and convulsing, that tension within building and erupting over and over again, your cunt fluttering around his cock helplessly. You quickly lost count of your releases, and only the obscenely wet squelching sounds echoing through the room made you realize how often he had made you come. And he wasn't done yet.

One hand held your hip up, his other hand moved around to your front and started pinching your clit, making you scream in bliss, as he continued smacking his hips into you hard and fast. You felt dizzy and delirious, forgetting everything around but his warm body, his hard cock rutting into you and the tight grip of his hands.

He eventually eased his assault on your clit and moved his hands up your body, snaking them around to grab your breasts that had been squished to the bed before. His large palms cupped them easily, and he pulled you up slightly as he gripped them. You felt like a puppet in his hands, overwhelmed by all the sensations rushing through your body, barely able to breathe at this point.

Let alone wonder how he was able to take you like this, with his knees tightening around your hips, holding you in place, as he strained his thighs and kept slamming his pelvis hard against your rear, each thrust sending shock waves through your body. Your eyes rolled back and your mouth hung open, your face contorted in pure ecstasy, unintelligible noises forming in your throat and tumbling past your lips.

He watched you with glee, desire and love as he kept going at a speed that surprised himself. But as much as you wanted him to feel good, he wanted to give back and make you feel incredible. And by the way your body convulsed and twitched beneath him, and how those sweet sounds that were like bird song in his ears came fluttering out of your mouth, he knew you felt good enough to forget about your worries.

He knew he couldn't wipe away your sorrows completely. As soon as you left his room and became a student again, you'd be back to worrying about the future, about what others said about you, about wanting all those things he could never give you, but as long as you were here, in his bed, pinned down by his body, he'd give his all to distract you properly.

His thrusts became slower and deeper, allowing you to catch your breath after his relentless assault on your g-spot, and he even let go of your sensitive breasts, gently putting you back down on the bed as he lay down on top of you, his hips continuing to pound into you, but at a slower pace, the mattress bouncing slightly with every downwards slam.

Kissing your warm cheek, he snuggled against you, his hands cradling your head before his fingers dug into your hair and gripped it just enough to let you feel his desire for you. You whimpered beneath him, breathlessly and spent, face flushed and lips trembling, but your eyes were still open, slightly at least, and you watched him out of the corner of your eye.

He leaned his rough cheek against yours, one hand in your hair while the other moved along the slender column of your neck, long fingers wrapping around your throat gently but firmly when he pulled you close enough to capture your lips. The kiss was messy with how he was still slamming his hips into you and how you twitched against him, but you still managed to meet his tongue in a heated dance.

Your moans echoed in his ears, fuelling the fire burning within him, driving him further, faster, harder, and while he felt your walls clamping down on him for yet another orgasm that crashed through your tiny body, his own muscles tensed as well, his balls tightening, and with a loud groan that you swallowed with your mouth, he pushed deep before he stilled inside you, erupting almost violently as he emptied himself deep within your tight space.

Your own release came with such a force that he slipped out mid-eruption, making him lean back, and while you pressed your flushed face into the pillow as your juices flowed freely, he pressed his still throbbing cock back into your clenching cunt, coaxing more mewls out of you. He continued moving within you, giving you those tiny thrusts that drove you crazy with bliss as he pushed one hand on your lower back while the other guided your hip.

He thought he'd be done by now, spent, exhausted, but he slowly kept going, despite your strained whimpers and breathless moans. Eventually your body went limp beneath him, and he eased his relentless assault as well, stilling within you, feeling your walls still tensing around him, strong enough to make him hard again. But he ignored the tension building up in his stomach, and gently lowered himself on your back once more.

You let out a last little gasp before you succumbed to the overstimulation. He kissed your cheek and nuzzled his nose against your ear as he settled on top of you, slowly relaxing, his own rapid breaths easing eventually.

Before you slipped completely out of consciousness, a weak smile grazed your trembling lips, and you had to think about those poor girls who had to spent their nights in crowded dorm rooms, hiding behind Silencing charms, hoping to get at least one orgasm out of their sneaky encounters before their inexperienced lovers would fall asleep on them.

Now you pitied them, because your lover didn't just have the experience and expertise to grant you mind-blowing releases you weren't even able to count, but also exerted himself past his limits – only to make you feel good. You didn't need to snog anyone in dark corners when you could have this in the comfort of a real bed.

You didn't need to hold hands in public when you could spend the entire weekend pushed into the mattress by a strong, tall body, warm and cosy and fucked out of your mind.

And maybe you could continue this adventure way past your graduation. Because in this very moment all you could think about was him and how you would do absolutely anything to keep this going, no matter what. No matter how.

You'd find a way, you were sure.

(At least once you regained control over your limp body.)

End notes: More dialogue? They can actually talk, in full sentences no less? I'm surprised too!

This came out of my brain as my own way of dealing with seasonal depression, and writing smut is indeed a good way to cope, somehow.

And even though there are not really any life-altering changes or solutions in this chapter/oneshot, this'll pave the way for more. And more is coming. I'm in too deep now, these two live in my head rent-free, and I can't seem to get them out anytime soon.

So, I thank you for joining me on this little Sharp-detour, but don't worry, I will not change the focus of this blog. Sebastian is still my muse, I'm just giving him a little break after having him do all those things in my other smut oneshots. He needs it too.

[ MORE SHARP SMUT ] [ MASTERLIST ] [ AO3 ]

#aesop sharp #aesop sharp smut #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #reader insert #fem reader #female reader #hogwarts legacy smut #professor sharp #professor sharp smut #professor sharp x mc #professor sharp x reader #professor aesop sharp #fluff #smut #mysmut #daddy sharp

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thetruthwilloutsworld · 10 months

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If anyone knows a thing or two about sex scenes, it’s Sam Heughan. Over the past decade, the 43-year-old Scottish star of Outlander, the cult-hit historical drama, has filmed hours of notoriously raunchy footage in his role as Jamie Fraser, the dashing 18th-century Highland rebel, with his wife, Claire – a time-traveller from the 20th century, played by Caitríona Balfe.

Yet two years ago, Heughan, as one of the executive producers (with Balfe), introduced an intimacy co-ordinator to choreograph such scenes, which had been criticised by many as excessively violent.

“The industry’s completely changed since Outlander started,” Heughan says, sitting in a Soho bar on a visit to London from his home outside Glasgow. “Not just our show but also shows like Game of Thrones were very graphic, with no room for the imagination, in a way that’s quite jarring now. As young, keen actors, we were just expected to get naked and go at it. Caitríona and I formed a bond and trusted each other, but there were times when we were pushed too far.” He was especially troubled by a scene involving full-frontal nudity in season one, when Jamie was tortured and raped by his rival, Black Jack Randall (Tobias Menzies). “That really didn’t sit well.”

Everything changed following the MeToo scandal, leading Heughan to employ Vanessa Coffey to choreograph the sex scenes. “So now everyone knows what the boundaries are, like in a football or rugby match. It’s been so helpful and freeing, and it was because I didn’t want younger actors to go through what we’d gone through. Now, the scenes are sexually charged, but not gratuitous.”

Despite his heartthrob status, Heughan – who’s 6ft 2in, with the strapping physique his role necessitates – is modest and thoughtful company. He also had Coffey enlisted to co-ordinate his latest project, Channel 4’s erotic thriller The Couple Next Door, filmed during the short break between Outlander’s seasons nine and 10, in which he plays Danny, a policeman living in a Leeds suburb in an open marriage with Becka (Jessica De Gouw).

“We didn’t want to make a salacious or seedy show about swingers,” Heughan says. “It’s about the psychology behind it – what is it to be in an open relationship where two characters love each other so much that they can invite people into that relationship? I think it’s possibly the greatest form of romance to allow your partner this, if it’s the itch they need to scratch. My character struggles with it.

The couple’s (initially) strait-laced neighbours are played by Alfred Enoch and Eleanor Tomlinson, who in 2019 finished five seasons as Demelza in Poldark. With Outlander about to start filming its final season, she and Heughan compared notes on moving on from a huge, long-running costume drama.

“It’s emotional. For me, the prospect’s hugely bittersweet. It feels like getting out of an institution. Outlander’s like a family, it literally defines who I am.” After all, Heughan has created an empire of Outlander spin-offs, including books, television travelogues and his spirits brand, The Sassenach – named after Jamie’s nickname for the English Claire – not to mention his charity, My Peak Challenge, which has raised nearly £5 million to fund a variety of causes, including hunger relief and blood-cancer research. “I’m ready for new challenges, but also nervous about what it’s like in the real world,” he says.

Still, he felt now was the right time to wrap. “Outlander could have finished after the ninth season, but, personally, I felt we hadn’t quite got there. So now we have the problem of pushing the writers to do something that’s hopefully satisfying for the audience, but also exciting.” So Heughan doesn’t yet know how Outlander ends? “No idea, and it’s really tough because Diana [Gabaldon, the author on whose novels the series is based] has written so many books.”

The show has a vast international fanbase; VisitScotland has cited a 67 per cent rise in visits to the show’s locations, such as Culloden and Inverness. “I do feel like I’m an unofficial ambassador for Scotland, and sometimes I don’t think the show is given enough credit for what it’s done for Scottish tourism,” Heughan says. “I think the numbers are even bigger than they say, because reams of Americans are just making their own itineraries. Doune Castle’s numbers are up 800 per cent, it’s been completely renovated as a result.”

The show has also transformed the local film industry. “For 10 years, we’ve been employing people at over 200 Scottish locations, we’ve started an intern scheme, we’ve built a studio with five sound stages where there was nothing before. So it’s going to leave a legacy.”

The son of an artist single mother (his father walked out when he was a baby), Heughan spent his early childhood in the Borders, his teens in Edinburgh, before studying at Glasgow’s Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama, where his mentor was third-year student James McAvoy.

Having worked in London and Los Angeles, Heughan fell back in love with Scotland when he was cast in Outlander. Initially against independence, filming the first season in the run-up to the 2016 referendum transformed him into a vocal advocate. “Scottish politics right now is a bit of a mess, which is a shame, but maybe they’ll find a new rallying cry. We’re a great wee country with amazing resources, most of which are controlled by the British. Similar small European countries have great identities.”

Initially, Heughan is hesitant to discuss the issue, aware taking either side will provoke a social-media backlash, but then he decides: “Why can’t actors have opinions? The problem is you have to come down on one side, there is no room for debate. Everything has become so aggressive and then social-media algorithms mean you only get to see one side of the argument.”

He had his fingers burnt when last month he signed an open letter from Artists for Palestine UK, alongside the likes of Tilda Swinton and Steve Coogan, which accused the Government of “aiding and abetting” Israeli war crimes, but failed to condemn Hamas’s terrorism. The following day, Heughan rescinded, saying he hadn’t “fully understood” what he was signing.

“I was maybe naively calling for peace, which is what we all want, but, unfortunately, that situation is so complex, I can’t understand it all,” he says now. “As an actor, you have a platform, but if you put your thoughts out there, you upset people, but you’re also damned if you don’t say anything.”

Heughan’s taking time to navigate a potential post-Outlander career path. “I’m a workaholic, but I have to be discerning. Whatever I do next, I have to feel really passionate about.” Possible plans include directing and exploring a different side to Scotland than misty heather and bagpipes. “I think that underbelly you see in [Ian Rankin’s] Rebus and Irvine Welsh is very interesting, there are still pockets that are very hard and gritty.”

Back in 2005, he auditioned for James Bond in Casino Royale – the role that eventually went to Daniel Craig. Now, there’s a new vacancy. “I’ll throw my hat in the ring,” he says, grinning. “I’d be a brilliant Bond, I’m good at action and I’d bring a lot of emotional intelligence.”

There might even be space for a personal life. Heughan’s mystified by “facts” he reads about his private life online. “There’s so much nonsense that’s completely false – apparently, I have a daughter. News to me!” he says, flushing. The truth, he says, is that Outlander leaves no time for relationships.

“It’s insane hours and takes over everything. Caitríona’s carved out a beautiful family for herself that she protects very well, but I’ve seen how hard it is for her to do that. I want a cat, but I’m too scared even for that, how would I look after it? One day, maybe,” Heughan says, dreamily.

Posting again as some people had difficulty opening the previous link.

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inkwingart · 1 year

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Framed by bright pink lotuses and a blue and gold border reminiscent of light glistening on water, this Vietwardian muse embodies the northern highlands of her homeland. She is dressed in a sheer black áo tứ thân with the neckline unfastened to reveal even more of her carmine-red áo yếm. Instead of a traditional sash, the waist of her tunic is taken in by rows of smocking worked in marigold-yellow thread. The bands of geometric embroidery in teal and carmine on her skirts and sleeves, paired with her scandalously closely-tailored trousers and silver crescent-shaped hoop earrings, echo the iconic styles of the Hmong. Her hair is wrapped in blue linen and coiled around the crown of her head. She holds a nón quai thao behind her head like a massive halo. The outside is painted teal, while the underside is gilded from edge to edge.

Do not edit or remove my caption, crop, edit, or repost on any platform.

This is the final Vietwardian print design and the one that gave me the most trouble. I couldn’t figure out a good pose, and when I did, i couldn’t get the hands right. And then there was the hat and all those concentric-ish ellipses. And I made a silly mistake and realized much too late to fix it….you would’t even notice if I didn’t say anything. Too late now, and much too tired.

#my art #illustration #vietwardian lookbook #historical fashion #art nouveau #the lotuses are bright pink bc that’s how they are in vietnam #in fact the real flowers are closer to magenta.#i took liberties with toning them down a little because magenta would not work with anything else and also i hate magent

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sgiandubh · 10 months

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OK, I got it : Telegraph shitshow, anyone?

Oh, what the hell. I had no patience and couldn't picture myself fidgeting in a dull supermarket and ending up by forgetting half of the things on my list.

So, here it is, all of it.

Proof of buying:

Yeah, "between Outlander's seasons nine and 10'. See how accurate the girl who wrote it is? How about a cobbled something to address the real issues at stake, of which there are three (more on this, in my next post)?

LOL? LOL.

Anyway, there goes. Passages in bold are marked by me:

Yet two years ago, Heughan, as one of the executive producers (with Balfe), introduced an intimacy co-ordinator to choreograph such scenes, which had been criticised by many as excessively violent.

The Couple Next Door begins on Channel 4 on Monday 27 November at 9pm; stream all episodes from this date

#shitshow

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mistresslrigtar · 5 days

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Chapter Four - The Adults are Talking

They will blame us, crucify, and shame us. - The Strokes

Summary: There’s trouble in paradise. A scandalous article, an irate father, mortified Zelda, and distraught Link.

(I particularly like this chapter title because even though Zelda and Link are adults, they’re treated like children who get caught with their hands in the cookie jar. If only that’s all that happened 😅)

Excerpt:

“A public beach!” Rauru’s sea green eyes are dark and stormy when he looks back at Zelda. They actually remind her of the Necluda sea and the irony isn’t lost on her. “Our intelligent, summa cum laude daughter doesn’t have the sense the goddess gave her.”

Zelda’s cheeks flame and she wishes she were anywhere but in this stuffy car. She presses the button to lower the window and let in some fresh air, but it won’t budge. Child-locked no doubt.

Her stomach churns. She's an adult, not a child. “It was a remote location where we never saw a soul the entire time we were there!”

“How could you? You were too distracted to notice anything!” Rauru lifts the lid off an ice bucket and drops a few chunks of ice in a cut crystal highball glass before roughly pulling out a matching decanter of Gerudo Highland brandy. He gives himself a generous pour and knocks it back in one swallow. “I blame that Link. Clearly, he’s a bad influence on you. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt and look where it’s gotten you? My daughter—a pin-up!”

“Rauru.” Sonia’s soft voice breaks through the tension. Her face, however, remains impassive and Zelda decides that surely is far worse than her father’s tirade. That’s to be expected. She’s his only daughter and pride and joy. She can’t imagine what it must have been like to see her in her altogether. “Yelling does little good. It’s been done and there’s nothing for it but to try to weather the storm.”

How Zelda wishes her mother would wrap her arms around her and tell her everything is going to be alright. It seems Sonia can’t even bring herself to look at Zelda, and keeps her focus solely on her father who looks like he wants to wring someone’s neck—probably Link’s.

The rest is available in AO3! This story is E-rated, but truly there’s more plot than spice.

#legend of zelda #zelink #the legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #breath of the wild #skyward sword #rock star au #alternative rock music #rock musical #modern au #fluff with angst #missy writes

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readtilyoudie · 7 months

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“You are but one man. You think to defeat four? Foolish bastard!”

In a movement so practiced he could have performed it half-asleep, Lachlan retrieved the dagger strapped to his thigh and hurled it. The second man in the row flopped to the ground, bright-red blood spraying from the neck wound.

“Three,” he replied, baring his teeth like the Beast he was.

Scandalous Passions (Highland Menage #1) by��Nicola Davidson

#book quote #scandalous passions #nicola davidson #highland menage #historical romance #romance #quote #quotes #booklr #bookblr

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scotianostra · 7 months

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At around 5am on February 13th 1692 the Massacre of Glencoe began……….

The Glencoe Massacre, probably the most infamous and shameful episode in Scottish history, has led to ill feeling between two Scottish clans for hundreds of years.

The shameful atrocity of 13 February 1692 was not, as first believed, a clan feud between the Campbells and MacDonalds, it was in fact a government operation.

Events leading up to the massacre are important to understand the massacre itself.

King James VII of Scotland, and II of England, (a Stuart and a catholic) was deposed by Parliament in 1689, and William of Orange was installed as Monarch, which would lead to the massacre in 1692, and would later spark off the Jacobite Uprisings,the attempts to reinstate the Stuarts to the Throne.

The action was sanctioned and implemented by the Crown, with approval by Lowland elites, and it intensified the already bitter Highland-Lowland divisions.

The actual massacre itself was a direct order from the Master of Stair, Joint-Secretary of State for Scotland for the new King, William of Orange.

Thirty-eight MacDonalds from the Clan MacDonald of Glencoe were killed by the Campbells, (the guests who had accepted their hospitality) on the grounds that the MacDonalds had been slow to pledge their allegiance to the new king.

Besides being ineffectual, it proved to be a monumental blunder, and public opinion was such that the Government was forced to hold an inquest into the affair.

When two advance units were sent to Glencoe on the 1st February they were under the command of Captain Robert Campbell of Glen Lyon, an alcoholic gambler who had gambled away most of his estates. The massacre was to begin simultaneously in three settlements along the glen (Invercoe, Inverrigan, and Achacon) although the killing took place all over the glen as the fleeing MacDonalds were pursued and slain.

On the night before the slaughter, Campbell was given orders to fall upon the rebels, the MacDonalds of Glencoe, and put all under 70 years of age to the sword.

He was told to begin the massacre at 5am on 13 February, 1692, but his superior officers were told to commence at 7am. In addition to the soldiers who were actually in Glencoe that night, there were two other detachments, each of four hundred men, who were, according to the plan, to have converged to cut off the likely escape routes.

Details of the events became public knowledge only because the tormented Campbell leaked his orders to kill in the days after. He had betrayed people he knew. MacIain of Glencoe, the chief of the small branch of the Clan Donald, was a friend with whom he had hunted and fished, and the story goes that Campbell died of his shame.

The scandal was further enhanced when the leading Scottish jurist Sir John Lauder, Lord Fountainhall, was, in 1692, offered the post of Lord Advocate but He declined it, because there was a condition attached that he should not attempt to prosecute any of the people implicated in the Glencoe Massacre.

The Glencoe massacre memory has been kept alive by continued ill feeling between the MacDonalds and the Campbells. Since the late 20th century the Clachaig Inn, a hotel and pub in Glencoe popular with climbers, has had a sign on its door that says ….

“No hawkers or Campbells"

Glencoe is sometimes said to mean 'Glen of Weeping', which may be a reference to the massacre of Glen but the Gaelic 'Gleann Comhann' doesn't translate as 'Glen of Weeping', the Glen is actually named after the River Coe which runs through it and had this name long before the 1692 massacre.I would assume it got the moniker after the events on that fateful day.

#scotland #scottish #history #redcoats'#murder #scottish highlands

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bunnymajo · 11 months

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Time to fill out that OC questionnaire but for Thistle this time!

He'll be in the @sonic-oc-showdown so be sure to give him a vote!

Name: Thistle the Tenrec

Species: Highland Streaked Tenrec

Home: Central City

✨How did you come up with the OC’s name?

Since he’s inspired by Amy I wanted to pick another prickly flower name. Thistle flowers can have a lot of negative connotations in flower language just as much as positive ones (aggressiveness, unwanted intrusion). If roses are known for being noble and lovely, thistles are more wild but pesky, they’re also hard to let go if you end up stuck by one. The image of thistle flower suited him the more I thought about it.

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

Same age as Surge.

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

Currently Surge and only Surge. He’s had previous partners but they usually don’t last very long. Current record is 1 month.

(The only tragic thing about Thistle is that he's not trying to be the worst boyfriend ever. He really wants to do good but he's too self-centered and stupid to realize that he's the problem)

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

Key Lime Pie, he likes anything tart but sweet.

💼 - What do they do for a living?

Works part time at a flower shop in central city, he’s actually quite popular with customers.

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

Flower arrangement and astrology charting. Loves reading romance novels and watching old classic movies even if he gets the meaning of them completely wrong. He’s good at baking and also spends a lot of time online on social media. He’s a jack of all trades and always ready to learn something new to get closer with people in his life. He’s here for you. What more could you want from a guy :)

🎯 -What do they do best?

Anything that’s considered traditionally feminine Thistle excels at. Baking, shopping, event planning, crushing your enemies. But even with all of that he’s incredibly good at finding information. Does his new crush have a favorite band? Well Thistle just doxxed every band member and knows the rest of their schedule for the next 3 months.

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Thistle likes doing anything that will get him lots of compliments and attention, especially if it’s something he already finds fun. He’s the type to get really wrapped up in tedious side project so probably mapping out his and Surge’s life together via astrology

Hates doing something that doesn’t serve him in some way, like doing volunteer work for strangers. He also isn’t much of an adventuring type unless it’s to chase Surge down, he’d rather not though, he’d rather keep her tied down close to him and they can live a cozy domestic life.

Running around beating up robots getting sweaty and gross and for what? just to protect the masses? Awful, blech, Sonic can have that.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

One time he and Surge accidentally shared a soda, therefore doing the incredibly scandalous “indirect kiss”. She vaporized the soda can to destroy the evidence and then punched him in the gut when he told her. He passed out for about two days.

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

His first relationship was an online one where the other person ended up blocking him and then publicly warned other people about his creepy behavior.

Thistle made one of those “am I the asshole?” posts about their relationship and everyone in the forum went “yeah, you were totally the asshole.”

Thistle deleted all his accounts and started over. He learned nothing. “It’s the forum that was wrong, they were all just jealous.”

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

There’s a few initial sketches I did to get the overall idea going and there’s a few minor tweaks but he’s basically the same design as when I started.

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

It was a bumblekast question asking about what a glitch Amy would be like and I liked the answer so much I wanted to develop it into a real character.

I really like aggressively-in-love characters like this in media actually, something about them being not shy at all about the person they’re in love with leads to a lot of funny or interesting situations, also since Surge is my favorite sonic character at the moment it’s fun thinking about how she would react to someone like this too. It’s a win-win situation for me lol.

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

The villain in a shoujo romance manga

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

Identifies as male, Pan, he/him/they pronouns

🙌 - How many siblings does your OC have?

Zero. Probably for the best because he’s terrible with children.

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

He’s an absolute mama’s boy when she’s around. (It should be noted that Thistle doesn’t really have a tragic backstory or bad childhood. He really is just like that for some reason.)

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

Thistle can be a lot of things I like about male characters (a goober in love, not afraid to appear “feminine”, a polite good boy, twisted priorities) and also be the worst person I’ve ever wanted to write thoughts for. He’s a very fun punching bag.

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

Probably too much haha, I don’t usually write a lot of actual terrible people so he’s a refreshingly fun rom-com villain.

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

It’s funnier if he stays alive imo. If Surge ever changes her ways in canon or something drastic happens to her he might lose interest in her and move on to his next victim, that’s about as close as I’d ever get to “killing him”. It would have to be a very drastic personality change though.

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

Whatever the fear of being unloved is.

To him, being loved by someone is the ultimate goal. “I can love so easily, why is it so hard for someone to stay in love with me? I must not be loving hard enough, I need to love someone who craves love just as much as I do. Yes, then it would be the ultimate romance” - is basically the rationalization here.

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

I mean probably Amy, not just for Surge’s sake, Amy will fight anyone she finds being a selfish creep in the name of love.

In Thistle's mind anyone who even smiles in Surge's direction is a rival. She's spoken for, who do they think they are??

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

A little over a year!

🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?

#hey hey it's that time again #thistle the tenrec #my ocs #sonic ocs

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mermaidsirennikita · 21 days

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Hi there! I was just curious do you happen to know of any romance novels where the heroine is Scottish instead of the love interest? I’m Scottish and would love to like them but tbh a lot of the Scottish romances written by Americans give me the ick because of the trend of Scottish women being shunted to the side and portrayed as petty jealous bitches in comparison to the usually english or american heroine

Thanks for your help!

Yes, for sure! And I totally get what you're talking about. I'd love to have more Scottish heroines, personally. I don't really get why so many American writers do the "jealous Scottish witch" thing, because like...

A) we have no skin in the game as Americans for the English

B) if anything, a lot of Americans are of Scottish heritage lmao

Sooo I'd immediately recommend A Kingdom of Dreams by Judith McNaught if you're open to an old school. This one is kinda famous for its heroine, Jennifer, known as "the Merrick bitch". She's defiant and outspoken and never goes quietly, and I love her. You can definitely see the new ground she broke at the time. Her hero, Royce, is English—it's a medieval Scottish/English conflict book. So so good.

Jennifer Ashley's Mackenzie and McBrides series has a LOT of Scottish heroines, and I adore them. In this case, the heroes are also Scottish (a lot of these have Scottish heroes and heroines—I hope those might work too, so I'm including them for the sake of variety). In particular, I recommend:

The Many Sins of Lord Cameron—Ainsley is a Scottish heroine with a Scottish hero. She's a widow who had a brief encounter with the slutty, slutty widowed father to a teenager Lord Cameron, and now they're sort of brought together due to this zany plot where Queen Victoria is getting blackmailed and Ainsley (a lady in waiting to Victoria) sort of has to cover for her? The lady in waiting to Vicky thing can be a turnoff, but she's not on the page much and is presented in a very ambivalent manner (as opposed to a lot of historicals which present her positivel). She's basically there to give Cameron and Ainsley a reason to orbit around each other. They're HOOOOOT.

The Duke's Perfect Wife—One of my all time favorites. Hart is SCOOOOOOTTTIIIIIIIISH in her terms of his identity, but not in a traditional way? The Mackenzie have their title and are very Englishified on the surface, and Hart is actually planning on running for PM... IN ORDER TO DISMANTLE THE ENGLISH FROM THE INSIDE AND GET A FREE AND INDEPENDENT SCOTLAND. It's insane. But for real, I don't think Hart could deal with ending up with an Englishwoman and it's a part of his character lol. Fortunately, he never got over his very Scottish ex Eleanor, who dumped him and broke off their engagement years ago and is now back in his life as a roving girl reporter (by girl I mean she's def late twenties/early thirties and I love it) because someone is sending her nude photographs taken of Hart lol. This is a fabulous book and I have nooooo notes.

I belieeeeeve Rules for a Proper Governess has a Scottish heroine as well, Lady Isabella's Scandalous Marriage has an English heroine, and I'm not 100% sure where The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie is. Could go either way. Isabella being English is mentioned a lot, so I'm not sure if Beth is as well.

Monica McCarty's medieval Highland Guard series (aka: what if Robert the Bruce had a suicide squad?) has a lot of Scottish heroines! Even the ones who aren't on Robert the Bruce's side lol.

For sure Scottish:

The Chief—Very alpha leader hero, virgin heroine who's coerced by her father into trapping him into marriage, classic "cold man learns how to love" book.

The Ranger—Quiet hero with freakish sixth sense is behind enemy lines and undercover, but the enemy is another Scottish lord who's basically defected to work with the English (and he killed the hero's father). The heroine is that guy's daughter. Dun dun DUN.

The Viper—Sorta/kinda second chance between a dickish bitter hero who doesn't trust anyone and the woman he escorted as a part of the initial rebellion years ago, only for her to end up in the hands of the enemy in a CAGE for years. Now they're back in each other's orbits, and the beef is SO REAL and so is their desire to SMASH REAL HARD.

The Recruit—My favorite Highland Guard, a super slutty rakish one has a one night thing with a widow Robert actually wanted him to marry... But through a sequence of events, he didn't know it was her, he said something stupid, now she doesn't want to marry him, but ooooops about 4-5 months later they run into each other and he finds out she's pregnant and was totally planning on having the baby and hiding it from him, lmao. FORCED MARRIAGE A-GO!

They're all good, but of the ones I've read these are the top picks. Except for The Hawk, which I'd also highly recommend. However, that one has an Irish heroine.

Elisa Braden's Midnight in Scotland series has a couple Scottish heroines!

The Making of a Highlander—This has a Scottish heroine and an English hero. Everyone thinks she's crazy, and tbh she does talk to a ghost child a lot so... fair. But the ghost tells her to marry a lord so that he can be reincarnated as her baby, a lord's son (I'm serious) and she basically decides to use the English guy to My Fair Lady her while she prepares him for the Highland Games. It's so normal.

The Wickedness of a Highlander—The Scottish heroine was the sister of a previous big time villain (you don't have to read the previous book—they're good, but the two in between the above one and this one have English heroines) and she thinks the big, burly hero haaates her. And he kinda does? But he also wants her sO bad (the heroes in this book have a preternatural ability to immediately recognize their women, it's a Fated Mates vibe). She's in need of cash, so he takes her on as his "temporary" maid. But he has no intention of letting her go. It's very charming, very funny, and very OTT. This is one of my favorite Elisa Braden heroines, tbh. She's always like "Perhaps... I should have... dick....?" whenever there's a vague issue going on in her life.

The next book in the series is also clearly being set up, and whenever that happens the heroine is going to be Scottish.

Never Seduce a Scot by Maya Banks is a medieval with a Scottish hero and a Scottish heroine. They're sorta forced to marry to resolve a feud between their clans, but she doesn't speak and he thinks she has an intellectual disability and can't consent, so he assumes it'll be a marriage in name only. However, she's actually deaf and very much WANTS to consent lol. It's actually a very sweet, lovely romance (and I think it should be noted that the author's spouse is/was deaf, and she took his deafness into account when writing.

#romance novel blogging #romance novels #book recs

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electric-blue24 · 2 years

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More drawpile stuff!

this time featuring a cannon compliant ingo?! from me how scandalous, also haxingo the highland express and a regional variant of chandelure thats a bug zapper because i have had it up to HERE with mosquitos

the cutiefly and ptsd karrablast were done by @gender-nuteral-nut-boy

#submas #ingo #subway boss ingo #warden ingo #haxorus!ingo #haxingo #hisuian sneasel #chandelure #drawpile #blues art #haxorus #centaur au #pokemon

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frances-baby-houseman · 6 months

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This is one half of a two-sided business scandal going on in my town and I can't get enough. On this side, local business owner Jeff Hoobler ("hooblah!" as Adam and I yell at each other for no reason all the time) was elected to city council as the by far most popular candidate. Then they discovered a law that you can't be on city council if you hold a liquor license, which he does as the owner of the popular brewery Ravinia Brewing Company. So he is stepping down but people are MAD about it bc a, it's a stupid law, b, he had the license when the mayor approved him to run for city council and swore him in, and c, it seems like some kind of retaliation for the other side of the scandal, which is--

Ravinia Festival is suing Ravinia Brewing Company, owned by Jeff Hooblah, for trademark infringement over the use of "Ravinia," even though they came to an agreement about they name several years ago when they brewery opened. But now the festival is reneging on the agreement! Even though-- and this is a surprise to a lot of people!-- the festival is named after the neighborhood, not the other way around. The neighborhood was called Ravinia first! Because of the ravine! Everything around there is called ravinia including a public school!

Everyone is basically on Hoobler's side on both sides of this scandal but I can't wait to see what happens. I love Ravinia Festival but they have really started treating us badly. We used to get a lot of perks as neighbors, like free classical tickets and half-price or free entry to shows after the halfway mark (this was available to anyone but like who was going to do this if you weren't local). And now it's SO expensive and it sells out constantly and they have fucking Pitbull come and it's so loud and the traffic is terrible, and on top of that they are trying to shut down one of our most successful businesses!

Anyway it's a lot and I'm here for it.

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b-andherbooks · 9 months

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my favorite books of 2023✨⭐

For my last five things post of the year, here are my favorite reads (mostly romance) of 2023! Did any of my choices hit your best of lists this year? Any you still need to read?

I’m absolutely loving seeing all of ~your~ favs of the year, and am ready to bust out my brand spanky new book journal for 2024!

Happy early new year pals!

Favorite new to me authors

Sight Unseen Kasha Thompson

Striking Gold Janine Amesta

Whisky Business Elliot Fletcher

Morbidly Yours Ivy Fairbanks

Favorite Historical Romance

Wolf & the Wildflower Stacy Reid

Knockout Sarah MacLean

Marry Me by Midnight Felicia Grossman

The Duke Gets Even Joanna Shupe

The Duke Gets Desperate Diana Quincy

Hotel of Secrets Diana Biller

Favorite Contemporary

Role Playing Cathy Yardley

The Playing Game Ainsley Booth

Technically Yours Denise Williams

Midnight Duet Jen Comfort

Favorite Contemporary

Chick Magnet Emma Barry

Mickey Chambers Shakes it Up Charish Reid

Can’t Let Her Go Kianna Alexander

Georgie All Along Kate Clayborn

Favorite Backlist Reads

The Highlander Takes a Bride Lynsay Sands

Crash Ruby McNally

My Fair Concubine Jeannie Lin

Sweetest Regret Meredith Duran

Firelight Kristen Callihan

Liberating Lacey Anne Calhoun

Favorite Audiobooks

Britney Spears The Woman in Me

Single Dads Club Therese Beharrie

The Art of the Scandal Regina Black

The Seven Year Slip Ashley Poston

Spare Prince Harry

#romance books #b.andherbooks review'#bookish #historical romance #books and reading #contemporary romance

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moongurl95 · 5 months

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My Chaos and Revelry

Obviously inspired by 'But Daddy I Love Him' from TS' new album - TTPD has left my mind broken enough to think this song is totally Seb-coded the first time I heard it. Also to the Swifties who grew up from 'Love Story', this one's for us! Divider credits here and here

Summary: “But, daddy, I love him!” I tried to make him hear me out –

“A mere boy from your school could never –“

“I’m having his baby!”

You’d be able to hear a pin drop at the ensuing silence that followed.

In which Sebastian is our wild boy and MC is just tired of all the bitching and moaning.

(One-shot also posted on AO3)

“You, young lady, have no shame!”

I couldn’t care less how scandalized her voice sounded, not giving her a chance to button up my dress as I ran barefoot out my bedroom, the wooden floorboards loudly announcing my presence as I neared.

“You can’t keep me caged here all winter! In a few months’ time I’ll be graduating from Hogwarts with the highest of honors – Please…” His gaze, so much like my own looked at me with such utmost patience as he let out a sigh –

“What a mess.” The firm grasp of hands on my shoulders from behind felt all too eager to take me back to my bedroom – my prison since I came home for Christmas break.

“Be a dutiful daughter and just follow your mother –“

“Sarah is NOT my mother!” I glared over my shoulder to see the woman, who my father married after his first wife’s untimely demise, clutch at her pearls – those were MY mother’s pearls.

“That is enough from you –“

“But, daddy, I love him!” I tried to make him hear me out –

“A mere boy from your school could never –“

“I’m having his baby!”

You’d be able to hear a pin drop at the ensuing silence that followed, the looks on my father and stepmother’s faces had me biting at my lip to keep from bursting out laughing – I wasn’t, yet, in any way – though he only took my anxious state as a sign that I may not be joking.

“Sarah – please, if you could be a dear.” I watched my father find the nearest chair to sit himself as I let myself be led back to my room, almost regretting my impulsive choice of words, but I wouldn’t stand to be ripped away from who my heart truly wants.

“Isn’t she the Baron’s daughter? Quite precocious I hear, must have high hopes of marriage for her?”

“Yes, well, that was before she went off to that boarding school in Scotland –“

The hall now felt suffocating with the scent of wine as I moved towards the nearest terrace, closing my eyes against the judgemental creeps while willing their sanctimonious soliloquies into nothing but white noise – wasn’t today supposed to be the best of Sundays? Christmas day, no less.

My hands were now twitching to pull my hair out of its woven braid, oh how I missed flying through the Highland winds, wildly whipping tendrils of my locks to his face as he pulled me closer to his warmth –

“There you are, and here I thought you’d be spending the holidays at the school like you usually did the last two years.”

“Hannah.” I opened my eyes and levelled the other with a stare – I was initially glad to have seen a familiar face in Hogwarts, especially in the same House – Anyone could be a snake, yet I was too late to realize that it takes a certain kind of person to be a viper.

“I was right to tell Aunt Sarah how you should stay away from him, honestly!” She moaned out as if in empathy of my situation, “All these promising marriage proposals and you choose a – a wild boy from some poor town in the Highlands!” Hannah had stood beside me by the balustrade which only gave me a chance to speak to her clearly.

“I'll tell you something about my ‘good name’, Hannah, it's mine alone to disgrace.” I made sure she was able to take in my words even though she now looked back at me as if I’ve gone crazy, “I'd rather burn my whole life down than have it laid out in a plan for me.” I was sure to have left her there with her mouth agape.

That night, on the last hours of Christmas day, I stared forlornly out my now grated window, wishing – hoping for a miracle to take me away from here and be back at Hogwarts just to be wrapped in strong freckled arms and drown in a pair of brown bedroom eyes…

Though just after I sighed away my woes did I hear something metallic attach to the grill that blocked my window, I didn’t have time to inspect it amidst the dark when the bars that forced my isolation were loudly yanked away! I pushed open my window just as what looked to be an invisible carriage door popped open to reveal – “Sebastian!”

“Now, who would have thought the Hero of Hogwarts would be in need of saving one day?” The chuckle that came from him caused a delicious chill done my spine and the way he looked over at me in my night dress almost had me bashfully wanting to button up my semi-undress state. “Come on, princess, let’s get you out of there.”

Meeting his smile with my own, I’d just about stepped over inside the levitated carriage when my bedroom door burst open – “You stay away from my daughter, you –!”

Sebastian now held the carriage door open in a panic as my father tried to reach out to me over my window, worried that the other might fall over as he tried to reason, “Sir please! You have my word that I will make a Lady out of your daughter!”

“Daddy, I love him!” I screamed over the biting winter wind, finally gaining my father’s full attention as he met my eyes so much like his own as I leaned closer to how Sebastian held me in his arms, “I’m having his baby!”

At that, my father let go, the shocked look still on his face as Sarah held him back with that same scandalized look on her face before Sebastian pulled the carriage door shut, the sound of the Thestrals’ wings the only thing that enveloped us as he also now sat beside me in stunned silence before, “Did we – Are you –?”

“No, I'm not, but you should see your face.” I pinched his nose, laughingly as I looked out the front window to marvel at how the Thestrals seem to know where to go, watching as they flew over the manor’s high fence before I felt the pair of warm, strong hands gently caressing my waist.

“I garner we’ll be arriving at Hogwarts sometime at dawn, so… what would you say to reevaluating the look on my face?”

My laughter soon flowed to Sebastian’s lips as he leaned in close.

The summer sun’s rays was perfect in highlighting the still scandalized faces of the mothers who were too curious not to go to the Welcome Party that my father organized for my return. Walking towards him, my hand found Sebastian’s, for all his charm, he did manage to make my father come around, after all.

He was met with a clasp on his shoulder before my father wrapped me in an embrace, coincidentally meeting Sarah’s gaze behind him as Hannah also stood near her. I afforded them a sickly-sweet smile as I raised a finger towards them, the sunlight making the glint from my ring finger all the more brilliant.

And there in the garden of the manor I was raised, I saw no grey as I danced between the flower beds, laughing in careless abandon before Sebastian pulled me into a private alcove, gently caressing the barely noticeable bump under my sundress as I pulled him in for a kiss.

All the clamor turned into white noise as wild joy flowing between us. This is my choice.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy oc #hl mc #hl oc #hogwarts legacy characters #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ttpd #daddy i love him

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