#the thief x reader

[ladamedusoif]

My Kiss, Only For You

The Thief x Museum Guide F!Reader - One Shot

Pairing: The Thief x Museum Guide F!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: Explicit (18+; MDNI)

Content/warnings: oral (f receiving); theft (I mean, obviously); smut; did I mention theft; strong language

Summary: You've noticed a regular attendee on the guided tours you offer as part of your job at the museum - and one day, he decides to ask you for more information on a favourite exhibit.

Notes: I keep on getting sent to horny jail by @lunapascal and @julesonrecord. (P would be very disappointed in you two insisting on incarcerating me all the time.)

This time, for reasons I'm still not entirely sure about, I was sentenced to 'double jail' and have two punishment pieces to write to get myself free. This first one, chosen by @julesonrecord, involves The Thief (from the wine ads) and the prompt "stealing a kiss".

Please enjoy my first foray into writing smut about a (very sexy) man from an ad campaign.

I wrote this at like, 1am and am still worried there are sections I thought I wrote but that were actually happening in a dream. Bear that in mind as you read.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

“And we finish with the jewel - if you’ll permit me a little pun - of the collection, the remarkable Katarzyna’s Kiss ruby.”

The afternoon’s tour group is mostly teenagers on a school trip, and they couldn’t be less interested in the bright red gemstone illuminated in the case behind you if they tried. One of them lazily lifts their phone to snap a photo, apparently of the display. It’s only when you see them pouting for a selfie that you realise they’ve had a BeReal notification.

You keep going with the standard tour script, putting your heart into it as always. You notice a familiar face at the back of the group, listening attentively: a handsome, dark-eyed man you guess must be in his mid to late forties, who is a regular attendee of your tours in the museum. He seems to be particularly interested in the gemstones and jewellery collections, always turning up for those tours with a notebook and a random, specialist text on the subject. 

“The story behind this gemstone and its unusual name is that a seventeenth-century Polish princess supposedly fell in love with the apprentice to the court jeweller. Now, as you can imagine, in those days an apprentice jeweller would never be considered an appropriate match for a princess, and their love was doomed from the start.”

The handsome man smiles at you, eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. You offer a little smile in return, noticing how the museum lighting catches the attractive patches of grey in his sparse beard.

“The poor young apprentice had never kissed his princess, and not because he didn’t want to - they were afraid they would be caught in the carefully-monitored world of the court.” Your expression turns sad as you move to the next part. 

“One day, the young jeweller heard that his beloved was to be married - the next day, in fact. He was distraught. But when the princess woke on her wedding day, equally heartbroken, she found this ruby - so the story goes - in a gorgeous, handmade silver box, engraved with the words ‘My kiss, only for you’”.

One of the teenagers at the front yawns dramatically, setting the others off into fits of giggles. You sigh. “And that brings our tour to an end, I guess. Gift shop that way, toilets over there, if you want to find out more about the collections you can purchase a guidebook…”

Your voice trails as the group rapidly disperses. Only your handsome regular is left. You hadn’t noticed before how nicely dressed he is - not showy, not in the least, but his clothes have that unmistakable air of quality and expense. Today he’s wearing a dark green, beautifully cut casual jacket with a Nehru collar, combined with dark jeans and a pristine white grandfather shirt. 

“Thank you for a wonderful tour, as usual.” His voice is warm and low, a pleasing sound in the near-empty gallery. 

“Thank you,” you return the compliment. “You’re one of our regulars, aren’t you?”

He pushes his glasses up his nose and nods. You notice he’s holding a small green notebook in one hand, and a pen in the other. “I must admit, though, that I prefer to go on your tours. You are a natural - truly, a joy to listen to. So knowledgeable!” He turns and looks at you out of the corner of his eye. “And, if you’ll forgive me for being forward, even lovelier to look at than Katarzyna’s Kiss.”

You raise your eyebrows. The closest thing to flirting you’d experienced in your time as a guide was when elderly men would corner you near the military history displays and wax lyrical at you about nineteenth-century battleships.

The man has moved closer, now, to you and to the display case. He appraises the ruby at close range. “I’d like to talk to you a little more about this beautiful thing - I’m fascinated by the story.” He turns and looks at you over the top of his glasses. “Would dinner tonight be a good time to talk about this kiss?”

To your surprise, he’d booked a table at the fanciest restaurant in the city. Dinner had been a delight, swapping stories of rare jewels and favourite galleries and museums around the world. 

He had changed since this afternoon, and arrived dressed in an exquisite green and black check suit with a black shirt and tie. He was attractive, there was no way around it - but you preferred to keep your guard up a little longer.

You were about to order a cab when you realised you didn’t have your phone.

“Shit. I must have left it in the office.” 

“It’s not too far away, is it?” He is the picture of concern. “I’ll gladly accompany you back to the museum.”

So he does, offering you his arm at one point like a man in an old movie. You huff a laugh at the gesture until you realise he’s serious. 

“Oh, god. I’m sorry.”

He keeps his arm out, offered to you, and smiles at you with an eyebrow raised. “Chivalry isn’t quite dead yet, ma chérie.”

Maybe it’s the sneaking into the museum after hours, with its connotations of illicit shenanigans, maybe it’s the whiskey you had after dinner, or maybe it’s just the way his suit sits so perfectly over his broad frame, as if it’s begging to be touched and clung to. 

Whatever it is, you’ve barely entered your small office when you’re pushing him against the wall and kissing him like your life depends on it. He groans into your mouth and it goes straight to your pussy. 

He guides you back onto the desk and sits you on the edge, lowering you down carefully as he stands above you. He trails a long, thick finger across the neckline of your dress, slipping his fingertip under the fabric to trace the outline of your breasts.

You whine in pleasure and frustration as he kisses your body. 

“Tell me more about Katarzyna’s Kiss, beautiful. Do you believe the story?”

He keeps kissing as you talk, through the fabric of your dress down to your thighs, where he hitches up the skirt and encourages you to open your legs a little wider. You moan as you feel his fingers tracing up the inside of your thighs.

“I want to kiss you, mi amor, but I will only do so if you say the word.”

You nod frantically, all thoughts of the bright red ruby forgotten. 

He brings his torso down to meet yours, placing a soft, wet kiss to your lips. You hear the zipper of his pants come down and you know that he has taken his cock in his hand. With the other, he reaches past the top of your head, stretching his hand out along the desk and resting his fingers on the marass of papers and, you judge by the clicks going on behind you, your computer keyboard.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me again?” Your voice is heavy, confused. He’s kept one hand behind you, still resting on the keyboard, as he intersperses caressing and kissing your breasts with giving his cock a quick stroke.

“I am, chérie, be patient. The kiss I plan to steal now is more valuable than any ruby - tastes better, too.”

He drops to his knees and pulls your legs apart, dragging your panties down over your soft thighs and knees. He begins by literally kissing your cunt, placing soft, delicate kisses to the wet folds before his broad tongue strokes its way from your opening all the way to your clit. It elicits a muffled scream from you.

“You can’t be there already, beautiful thing.” You aren’t, but the way he’s ‘kissing’ your pussy, then driving his fingers inside you, is getting you very close.

When he begins to suck your clit you feel the pressure building, and soon your slick is coating his perfect nose, his mouth, his face - and his beard. It glistens in the soft light of your desk lamp. 

“Fuck me,” you murmur quietly. 

“Not tonight, dear one,” he says as he returns to standing, zipping back up his pants. “Stay put, I’ll get something to clean you up. Where are the bathrooms?”

You point him towards them, unable to stand up just yet. He’s made you feel completely boneless, fucked out with just his mouth and fingers on your own desk. It had been a while since anyone made you come at all, let alone like that.

You realise you don’t even know his name.

And soon, you realise he’s been gone a rather long time.

The museum’s back corridors are unsettling at night. You wander up and down, calling quietly into the darkness to see if you can find him.

The wail of the siren is deafening as you race back to your office, frantically trying to log back in to check where the alarm has been triggered. You try to contact the night security team, but there’s no response. The screen eventually lights up and you see it: the Kiss ruby. That’s what they’re after.

Security arrives in the exhibition gallery a few minutes after you, leaving it to you to reveal the carefully opened case and the empty plastic clasp that once held the ruby on display.

Where was he? Did he get stuck in part of the building and panic when the alarm went off?

You reach into your pocket to find your phone before you remember you don’t even have his number. 

You find a crisp, folded piece of paper in your dress pocket. It had definitely not been there earlier.

You sneak off behind another display to open the note, before police arrived to question you. The handwriting is fanciful, rendered in pen and ink:

I have helped myself to Katarzyna’s, I’m afraid, but remember that the kiss I gave you tonight - my kiss - is only for you.

Adieu, chérie!

Your Gentleman Thief

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #the thief smut #the thief #the thief fanfic #the thief fanfiction #the thief x f!reader #the thief x you #the thief x reader #my kiss only for you fic

[moonlight-prose]

PEDRO CHARACTERS MASTERLIST✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

a/n: below you can find all the works that i have created for the show/game the last of us! they’re all on this post, but in the future some of the characters might get their own masterlist post.

Under no circumstances may you steal my work, say it’s yours, or post it somewhere else. The writings I put on here are mine unless stated otherwise.

smut =🔥| angst =💫 | fluff =🌙

FRANKIE MORALES ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Blissful Mornings | 18+🔥

Summary: Frankie had a promise to make good on and you were more than happy to oblige. After all isn’t this what rainy mornings are for? Absolute bliss.

Remedy |🌙

Summary: Frankie had a way about him that kept you sane, kept you from falling off the edge. Maybe it was the love he gave that did it, or maybe it was just him.

Not in Nottingham |🌙| ao3

Summary: Your safe haven would always be Frankie, the old rickety swing on your porch, and the view of the sunset going down.

Breakfast | 18+🔥

Summary: Frankie had a promise to make good on and you were more than happy to oblige. After all isn’t this what rainy mornings are for? Absolute bliss.

The Beauty of Him |🌙

Summary: "He seemed to bring out the person in you that acted stupidly in love, but then again, he could say the same about you."

Put Your Head on My Shoulder |🌙

Summary: "Frankie had loved you for years. Ever since you smiled at him when he was in his college days he was smitten, forever yours."

Sunkissed Love |🌙

Summary: You just wanted to sunbathe; except you saw the way his eyes lingered on you for longer than necessary.

Give Me All of You | 18+🔥

Summary: "You weren’t worried about anything with Frankie, especially when it came to traveling."

Love In the Time of Grocery Shopping |🌙

Summary: That was the last place you expected to meet the love of your life. But life was odd at times.

Future Lover |🌙| ao3

Summary: “You wanted his flames to consume you, to give you everything you could have wanted out of love. Something in you called out to him—telling you with certainty that you’d never find another like him.”

Silhouettes of Love | 18+🔥| UPCOMING SERIES

Endlessly | 18+🔥| Kinktober 2023

Summary: “Tonight you were two people exploring the twists and turns of love. what it meant to be tied to one another, to be committed so thoroughly that you felt in the depths of your heart.”

JAVIER PEÑA ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Would That I | 18+🔥| ao3

Summary: He didn’t know how to make his mind quiet. Not after everything he’d been through. But there were days he’d come home, find you there greeting him with a smile, and realize that you were all he needed.

Sorrows of Sunlight and Apathy of Love | 💫

Summary: A character study of Season 3 Javi.

A Love So Sweet It Stains (series) | 18+🔥| ao3 | discontinued

Summary: After he left his job, the life he knew, he moved back home. Except he couldn’t find any solace there and sought a peaceful time away from the chaos his mind ensued. So, he decided to get away from it all. Just as you were doing the same.

In The Early Hours of the Morning |🌙

Summary: "You wanted to stay here, wrapped up in his arms for as long as you possibly could. When you rarely got moments like this with him you cherished them for as long as you had them."

Carnal Desire | 18+🔥

Summary: "Except one gentle press of his lips to yours opened the gates for the raw hunger both of you felt."

Desperation | 18+🔥

Summary: "The desperation for each other. The pull that was there, but neither of you would acknowledge past this. It all played a factor until you were being pulled under willingly."

Javi Drabble | 18+🔥

Summary: "His love, his light - you came before everything."

Epiphanies in Disguise (series) | 18+🔥| ao3

Summary: He never really considered himself a detective and yet somehow one phone call resulted in him being dragged into a tumultuous case. You never ever thought of yourself as a murderer and yet one phone call from your friend causes you to look like one.

AGENT WHISKEY ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Smooth as Whiskey | 18+🔥

Summary: He was the cowboy that caught your eye in the bar after a long day. Except it was the offer and debate of whiskies that brought you together.

Neon Moon | 18+🔥| COMING SOON

EZRA ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Exquisite Tragedy | 18+🔥| Professor!Ezra

Summary: There is an aspect of life that Ezra find fascinating and that is falling in love. He didn’t expect to fall, but then you wandered into his life and he couldn’t resist.

Souls of a Twin Flame | 18+🔥| Witch!Ezra

Summary: The beginning of the end for both you and Ezra.

MARCUS PIKE ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The Lies We Tell to Stay Sane | 18+🔥

Summary: After searching for him for so long, you finally found your former partner and the man they claimed went rogue.

PERO TOVAR ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Guardian | 💫

Summary: "Instead, you fell forward into his arms, the weight of the memories you’d hold forever making it hard to breathe."

Various Storms & Saints (series) | 18+🔥| Pero Tovar x Witch!Reader | COMING SOON

OBERYN MARTELL ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Sweet Madness | 18+🔥| Biker!Oberyn | Kinktober 2021

Summary: You would do anything for this man, even going so far as surrendering to the intense pleasure he offered.

Breath Of Life | 18+🔥| haunted hoedown | Mythological AU | ao3

Summary: Punctured by the arrow of Cupid, Oberyn is suddenly infatuated with you. You…the very breath in his lungs, the clouds in his sky, the reason the sun shone down on his home. He was in love and yet you couldn’t have felt more different.

DAVE YORK ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It's All Forgotten Now | 18+🔥| The Shining AU

Summary: They say the honeymoon phase is full of romance, happy moments you could share forever. Yet there you were, pointing the barrel of a shotgun at your new husband, with only one thought running through your mind. Fuck Marriage.

Affection | 💫

Summary: He finally reveals the truth after so long.

THE THIEF ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Wicked Games (series) | discontinued

Summary: Welcome to the Devil’s playground…enter if you dare, but don’t touch anything unless you wish to seal your fate with the queen of hell herself.

Unamed Series | 18+🔥| UPCOMING

#pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #javier peña #javier pena x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #the thief #the thief x reader #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar #my writing #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell

[rise-my-angel]

By Fate of The Night

Pairing: The Thief x Female Reader

Length: 8.6k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, implied memory loss, smut, slight exhibitionism, p in v

Notes: How a wine commercial got me so down bad, I have no idea.

When you wandered away from the extravagance of the party, you did not know. Opulence seemed to not suit how severely under dressed you were for such an event. Glitz and glamour unbecoming of the discount sale dress and cheap makeup you worked so hard to be able to afford, when the other attendee’s wore silks and satins that spanned for miles and makeup that painted them as previous dolls.

Your friend sending you a text not long ago, just a crying face when you asked them where they were. A quick understanding that no doubt they found someone to head home with forgetting that they had dragged you to this manor in the first place just to avoid being alone. The crowds, discussions of matters you had no interest with and glasses of champagne being turned down from each waiter kind enough to wander to the corner you hid yourself in. It had become too much, and so you walked.

As far from the noise until just silence overcame you, it led you down twisting hallways that increased in darkness yet filled with unique clutter. The ballroom large and lacking of much to look at, the rest of this place felt on the air of cozy with things. Statues, grand paintings that scattered the walls with no sense of style, just displayed as the owner so wished. Glass cases featuring old, weathered artifacts that many minutes were spent trying to determine. Not at all noticing that you had strayed so deep into the building that a dark figure came upon you from the shadow until their breath hit your neck.

“It’s called a Votive Plaque. Considered to be over four thousand years old,” Looking behind you with a silent gasp, a tall man leaned over your shoulder with a squint. From what you could see, his hands were clasped behind his back, glints of gold shimmering from the coat on his shoulders but little else was noticeable. Glancing back, you looked at the stone carving in question. “There was no inscription on the back, likely meaning it was engraved on the walls of a shrine or temple.”

Nodding, you had little to say as he did not move from so close beside you. You hummed, and yet he tilted his head as if you said any words to react too. What felt like one of his hands nudging you by your lower back his other arm outstretched you further into the hall. “There’s far more than stones and plaques to see, hermosa.”

Taking a step forward, you finally could glance to his face. Coarse facial hair around his jaw, and a moustache that sat neatly beneath a fine aquiline nose that framed the other soft, handsome features. As well as deep, dark eyes with colour indistinguishable in the dim light. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you shook off the sudden feeling of desire that such a stranger shouldn’t elicit. “I really shouldn’t, I-”

“Have a party full of people who are too busy preening at their own reflections to notice you?” He stood rather still, shoulders relaxed and a hand still on your lower back. Which you failed to realize was not making you uncomfortable. Your head moved back in surprise, and the stranger chuckled warm and deeply. “A lost little lamb such as yourself belongs amongst treasures such as this. Not with people only interested in impressing their wallets. Come,” He pushed you forward. “You haven’t even gotten to the hall of missing treasures.”

Trying to protest, your heart raced but yet, you didn’t struggle against such a gentle touch. “But the owner-”

Once again, the stranger seemed to put your mind at ease with barley any effort. Just a soft smile towards you. “Didn’t want any random people walking through his home, but you are no stranger are you?”

What he meant by that you didn’t know, nor did you know how you ended up pressed up against a bookcase of rare books. Both of his hands gently holding your wrists above your head, as his nose trailed down your neck. Not quite pressing his lips to the skin, but teasing with his breathe. Your heart raced, how many hours had you been walking this place?

Why did listening to this stranger tell you about items and artifacts that you thought impossible to own warm something in your chest and twist at your lungs? Each time his hand brushed your skin it shivered in need that you never had with people such as this. His voice rasped as his hands let your wrists stay, and his fingers trail down your arms where the long sleeves of your dress had fallen. “Are you finally ready?”

Voice high pitched and bordering on a moan, “For what?”

Another chuckle as his hands now ran down your sides. Thumbs tracing just under your breasts you stiffened in his hold, but the willingness you let his knee slip between your legs spoke differently. The long material bunching under it’s pressure and pushing against your core as he trailed up to your ear, his lips brushing against it. “To tell me what you desire. That’s all I ask, hermosa. Just tell me what it is you want, and it’s yours. Forever.

But that didn’t happen. The clock struck, and through the dark study he brought you in, chimed. Not startlingly loud, but enough that it had you jump. His hands how gently holding your hips. As he pressed a single, light kiss to the skin under your ear. One last rasp in it’s depths which you did not understand.

“Venus of Willdendorf.”

This party was not what you wanted to do with your night. Little plans were in the works, but it did not include wandering the small laid out area guests were permitted too looking for your friend. Your choice of flats in lieu of heels made you feel short and belonging amongst the classically dressed women who looked at you in judgment.

You looked for a long time to find shoes that would look nice, and it didn’t feel worth it at all. You may as well have shown up with normal running shoes and you’d stick out just as much. But, your friend had begged you to come. Their date fell through and going to a place like this alone likely intimidated them as much as being here alone did you. So you folded.

Now though, you lost track of them when you searched for the washroom only to come back to a ballroom of people you didn’t know. Pressed now up against a wall in the corner, a waiter occasionally walked over to you, tray in hand and a knowing smile flashing sympathy as you turned down their offer of champagne.

Waiting for any kind of response, your eyes stayed glued to your phone at the notification they did indeed read you asking where they went. Finally, a simple crying face popped up and that was all you needed. So they found someone to go home with, and left you in a manor that you didn’t even know the address too.

The sheer embarrassment you were going to face, asking one of the waiters where you were just to know what to say when you called a cab. You watched the flock of people impress themselves with their opulence before it annoyed you. Boasts of their accomplishments and money they earned that quarter did little to impress you, and you suspected it was only spoken hoping to one up their own conversational companions, or to impress the elusive owner throwing the party. Who had yet to make their presence known.

Your attention for a while was on the stain glass windows high on the walls. It was difficult to see in the night sky behind them, but you suspected there were many a details that would shine like the heavens in the morning light. Why did it burn your insides with curiosity what it would look like?

As if moving on their own, your feet took you into the hallways. Wandering the corridors that emptied of people the further you got, but filled with clutter of items that intrigued you. Painting’s littered the walls with no sense of style, just displayed with pride that they were indeed there. Glass displays littering about with unique items that looked too good to be real, and statues that graced above you, some decorated with jewellery that no doubt cost more then your own life.

Near a stairwell twisting both directions, was a display case on a dark marble pedestal. A small square glass case which protected the figure inside. In what looked like stone, was a woman with large proportions but no discernible facial features that made it look perfectly human. Without any indication of what you were looking at, you leaned in with a squint. Trying to remember if you’d seem pictures of something like this before.

Jumping back with a quiet gasp, a deep voice reverberated so close to your ear, and the presence of a tall, broad figure partially behind you leaned over your shoulder. “There’s actually almost two hundred of these exact statues that have been found throughout the world.” Turning to look at the stranger, from what you could see, his hands were clasped behind his back, glints of gold shimmering from the coat on his shoulders but little else was noticeable. Glancing back, you looked at the stone carving in question. “This one is around thirty thousand years old, not quite young enough to be considered a Venus but that’s what they called them anyways.”

Nodding, you had little to say as he did not move from so close beside you. You hummed, and yet he tilted his head as if you said any words to react too. What felt like one of his hands nudging you by your lower back his other arm outstretched you further into the hall. “There’s far more than small figurines to be seen, hermosa.”

Back pressed against a shelf of rare books, he enticed you with a knee pressed between your legs and his hand trailing down your raised arms. The clock against a distant wall chimed, and the stranger muttered something you didn’t understand into your ear. “Nebra Sky Disk.”

Your eyes stuck on the disk, surprised by it’s size, you figured it would be small, handheld. Yet no, it was larger then your head, and so were the images dotted onto it. Contemplating if taking a photo would be inappropriate, you wanted to compare the sights of where the stars laid in the sky then and how it compared to them now.

Before the idea took much more image, the soft sound of a shoe clicking against the tile perked your ears up. Turning around in place, you seem to have caught the man off guard despite him being the one sneaking up on you. He was tall, broad frame draped in a long coat glittering with a gold woven into the black material. Hard to see in the dim light, but you could see a moustache, scatterings of facial hair and a dark glint in their eyes.

One which in any other circumstance would have frightened you, and yet? You found your mouth moving before they could come any closer. “How did you get something like this?”

His eyebrow quirked up, the sides of his mouth moving in surprise. “Why assume I know?”

As if it was common knowledge, you shrugged turning back to look at the disk. “You’re the owner, right? I figured you’d know where your own artifacts come from.” Heart skipping a beat you whipped around once more, yet he had not moved. “I’m sorry that was incredibly rude, I have no idea where that came from.”

The chuckle was deep and warmed your blood. Stepping closer he looked at the disk over your shoulder. “Would you believe me if I said I just found it?” Turning with him, he stood taller then you moreso then before. Not overly, but enough that for whatever reason, made his size send a shiver down your spine. “How did you know I’m the owner?”

Pausing, you scoured your mind and came up relatively blank. “I- don’t know..” He hadn’t been with the rest of the party, you weren’t even in this crowd but you felt as if you already knew who he was to some extent “Just a feeling, I guess.”

“You come across feelings like that very often, hermosa?”

You decided you liked the sound of his voice. The deepness felt like it vibrated through your chest down into your heart, settling it down to a simmered panic rather then explode of anxiety of being caught wandering. Flushing a bit at the name, you kept your eyes off him. “Every now and again.” Your hands wrung in front of you for a moment, “I can leave if you want, I know this is supposed to be off limits.”

He chuckled again. “Not at all. Lost little lambs need to find their way home eventually.”

What that meant you didn’t know, nor did you understand why it felt like you’ve heard that phrase before. Regardless, you felt him press a hand into your lower back. Muscles ready to move down the hall for whatever reason, yet he didn’t. Just stood by your side looking at the disk before speaking. “What do you know about it?”

Biting your lip in thought, you knew your explanation wasn’t prestige. “Not as much as you, I’m guessing. I know it’s a map of the stars, with Pleiades there.” Pointing to the cluster of stars before trailing over to the crescent moon. “Some kind of lunar calendar for the time, most of the stars have moved at this point but if it was used back then, the sky was a lot clearer. Kind of like a map of early astronomy.”

Smiling down at you, the stranger sounded oddly proud. “Where’d you learn that?”

His smile turned into a grin as your shoulders sank in on themselves. “A children’s show. Half the episode was about the disk, the other was some lost city but I always loved the stars so, guess that’s why it stuck out.”

Was it your imagination that you felt his thumb moving gracefully back and forth? You dared not turn or question him to find out, his touch was soothing. “Nothing wrong with that. You don’t have to learn from high scholars to be well read. Hell, most of them aren’t even as smart as they assume. I learned more about the world collecting stuff like this, then I ever did in their books.”

It was quiet between you both, and once more, you were shocked at such bravery. “Would it be okay to look at more?” Sparing a glance up, your wide eyes contrasted his narrowed brows. Eyes still dark, but you think you could guess they were of a deep brown. “With the owners accompaniment of course.”

His soft features beamed with a full smile, a dimple pronounced in one cheek that had you trying hard to hold back a small smile of your own. Pushing you forward, an arm outstretched to the hall further. “Normally I’d lead the tour, but you seem to have an idea what you’d like to look at.”

For a good while, you both walked slowly through his halls. Rich history sat everywhere, but never did he guide you one way or the other. You walked to whatever caught your eye, and he followed suit. A content look as he listened to you gush about the artifacts you knew all about, an excitement that he owned them.

Others had mentioned the man owned many rare collections, and speculated the grand wealth to accumulate them. But such a thought never crossed your mind, not once did you even question how he got them or what it cost. You were gleeful to see the things you recognized, and came upon them with something akin to a familiarity. As if you knew they were there, when clearly, you didn’t.

The stranger never shared his name, nor did you save for the unknown word he seemed to prefer to call you by. Normally, you wouldn’t dare leave yourself so alone with a large, unknown man whose proximity was close and intimately warm. He was safe though, how you knew that? You didn’t, and logically you knew it was stupid to assume the unknown, and yet? You were deep into his manor by the time you came across a balcony.

Doors open with the night wind flowing the sheer curtains in the air, beckoning you. Goosebumps erupting on your skin at the coolness of the night, hands both resting down on the railing. The sky bright and clear, moonlight shining on the water in the distance. A deep blue casting from it’s depths to the scene around it. Shining with beauty as if the home itself build on such a luscious property.

Judging by the slight ache in your feet, the pair of you had been wandering for a few hours. He stood beside you, mimicking your own position. Back stood tall, and his eyes, definitely brown, stood out beautifully as well as the profile of such a strong aquiline nose had against the rest of him. You should be looking at the sight, but his sight was more alluring. “Can I ask you something.” He only nodded, but you felt fair to continue. “Why throw a party if you want nothing to do with it? I mean you haven’t been there all night, so why have one in the first place?”

A feeling brewed inside of you, as if you knew what his answer would be. “Some people host parties to meet people, but others are just hoping the single right one turns up.”

Voice but a whisper, you looked away with a growing bashfulness. “And who would that be?”

He didn’t answer, but you heard his voice speak to you anyways. The nickname of a lost little lamb, and the sensation of his chest pressing up against your back as he caged you in his arms hands either side of your own. But that’s not how you were standing.

No, you were side by side, nowhere near close enough to touch the other in such a manner. Glancing up to the moon nearing the middle of the night sky, he smiled to himself. “Tell me, hermosa. What exactly is your greatest-”

“Desire.” Your voice muttered in it’s own breathless shock. Why did you know what he was going to say exactly? Why did you have an answer that you hadn’t thought of in so long? The stranger turned to face you, one hand on the railing as the other hung by his side as he looked inquisitively at you. “I just wanted to be seen.”

Why did you phrase it like that? What was happening inside of you? There was something that wasn’t right, and yet it didn’t scare you the way it should have. It was as if around you, the night was completely different. Clouds covered the stars and rain fell from them, taking no care as to how soaked through it made your dress. One not at all like the dress you were wearing now.

The stranger didn’t feel as familiar, but the comforting warmth, promise of desire remained the same as you stood in two different worlds. One of memory, and one of confusion. Quickly looking up almost to make sure you were in this world not the other, indeed he was the same.

Same long coat, broad chest underneath the rich shirt on his torso that led down to a softer stomach which you saw yourself gently running your fingers over. Before his larger ones picked them up in place, bringing to his lips before moving them on his own to dig into his waistband. Watching with bated breath as you pulled them down.

The darkness in his eyes lurked yours, trying to find something you didn’t know. But these thoughts you had about him were anything but appropriate and it made your skin run hot at the phantom sensations of his skin. A rippling of familiarity that raced through your very veins as nothing else was said as somewhere deeper in the manor, a clock struck.

You didn’t know why you abandoned your friend. Watching them waltz around the ballroom trying to fit in with such people of high society as you floundered. They were in the middle of a chat with someone, leaning in enticingly close when you walked off.

Unlike you to simply abandon someone so abruptly, but it felt like the winds called you elsewhere. A feeling in your mind pinged inside each time you contemplated stopping to look at the vast artifacts the mysterious owner seemed to have collected.

Many of which you would have otherwise yearned to stop and look at for far too long, but your feet moved of their own accord until the turn of a hallway came about. The blue tint of the night seeped into the lightness corridor, two large glass doors open with curtains pulled back and flowing.

A tall figure stood leaning against the railing, the gold of their coat shining in the moonlight and draped down their broad back. The images of gently coming up behind them, palms pressed flat as you felt their shoulders sink. Your dress was all wrong, you had short sleeves in your minds eye not long ones. It pricked you like a thorn trying to piece this dual memory in your mind together as you walked towards the figure.

Your shoes gentle, but tapping against the decorative tiles no doubt giving your position away. Heart racing as you looked at the tousled brown curls sat beautifully across his head. Somehow, you knew his brown eyes were just as gorgeous before he even came into view.

Skin shivering at the coolness of the outside air, you gently rested your palms on the railing beside where he stood. His spread wide as his brow narrowed in thought, yours almost wrung together in front of you with eyes wide and in need of answers to questions you didn’t remember asking.

Your mouth asked before your brain could catch up. “How many times have I been here?”

A gentle smile falling across his lips, he just tilted his head in jest. “Would knowing make you feel better or just more confused?” Pushing off he turned to face you, one of his hands now resting over top yours keeping them warm and in place. His eyes looked right through yours. “Because I assure you, hermosa it’s more then just your imagination. But to answer your question, this is the second time you’ve sought me out no the other way around.”

His free hand reaching to your collarbone, taking the chain of your necklace into his fingers and trailing downward to where you wouldn’t think you’d just let someone touch. Rough fingertips tracing the tops of your breasts underneath the fabric of your dress before grasping the bright blue stone that sat there.

Your heart raced, taking much of your resolve not to let it show in your chest how hard you were really breathing. Leaning in close you couldn’t take your eyes off his face. Features soft, yet sharp in expression which begged you to gently run your hand over the coarse facial hair covering his cheek.

Resisting the urge, you wanted to understand what it was you were feeling more. “I’ll rephrase. How many times have we repeated this exact night? Because I feel like it’s been tomorrow’s been a long way off for a while now.”

His soft smirk morphing into a proper grin, the stranger ran his thumb down your breast barley missing your nipple. “Does it truly matter as long as we’re together?”

A burning floating in your veins, you snatched his hand holding it off of you without keeping him away from your body much further. Your lungs tightening at how undisturbed by the action he was. “What if I just leave?”

His other hand raised, now taking yours into his and pressing your joined hands against his chest. The movement pulling you in close, whatever cologne he had worn mixed with something that deep in your heart, knew was the comforting scent of home. His voice as warm and deep, “We’ll end up right back in this very position. I’d rather not wait until then though, it’s taken a long time to finally get you here.”

You could see it, the artifacts, the displays, each long winded explanation of each passing item until there was nothing left to explore but the pair of you before the clock struck. And now you’re here, the same night. Over and over with no end in sight, but somehow he seems to know what’s happened.

Sucking in a shaky breath, you were grateful his grip was lose enough to allow you to face the night scene once more. His hand never letting go of yours, but now standing behind you caging you in with the other braced against the railing. Many moment’s passed before you found your bravery to whisper once more. “How much longer we start over?”

His nose nudging against your hair, the feeling of hips lips brushing your temple as he did so. “Hours. You found me early this time. Usually I have to go looking for you.” Without consulting your conscious mind, you leaned back into his chest, both your grips on the others hands relaxing allowing him to trail down and wrap it more around your stomach. His head sinking into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply as your own eyes fluttered shut.

Doing this before wasn’t something you knew, but it felt as such. An intimacy not known between strangers. Moments passed, just letting the cool breeze float across your skin and his warm breathe on your neck as he kept you pressed against him. “How do we break it? I need to remember, right?”

Not answering for a moment, he seemed to be contemplating how to phrase it. Something you recall being a regular occurrence. Finding simple ways to explain the dark, intricate knowledge his head was full of to explain to you. You liked information, but he preferred you with gentle words. Nothing came to mind, but you felt the ache in your heart.

Leaning the side of his head against you, he rasped into your ear. “Only what we did last time. You give in willingly to your desires, and we can wake up tomorrow.”

Like a flash of a movie screen behind your eyes you could see him. A stranger truly on that day more then he was now, nothing but a yearning in your heart for more. Following you through his home, stopping each time to explain the pieces which caught your eye until called back to the party below by your partner.

Shattering the quiet bubble between you and a man you didn’t know the name of. Glancing back, you had waited for him to pull you back into his arms but he only shook his head. Running his fingers over your cheek and down across your bottom lip.

You had been called again, and the man pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth. “Your lover awaits, hermosa. But I’ll expect an answer sooner or later. What is it you truly desire?”

The electrifying tingle in your limbs stayed all the way until you got to the front steps outside the manner, and the outstretched hand of a man with nothing but an annoyed furrow in his brow and impatience to follow. Calling your name at your retreating form until it was heard no more.

Just like now, the stranger braced against the railing of this very balcony as you draped your hands tenderly across his back. Moving up on your toes to reach his ear, whispering your desire as the wind picked up and slammed the glass doors shut in the same instance he turned around to capture your lips with his.

Was this truly where you were now, with a man who made no sense yet welcomed you into his heart as he did yours? A dream or perhaps the world outside was the dream and it all forced you to relive this moment. He seemed to know, but wanted you to find the answer on your own.

Turning in his arms, your hands rested against his chest as his own found your hips. His lips looked soft as your phantom memory remembered they felt, leaning in to brush his nose down the length of yours he waited patiently. “You stole me away once, are you supposed to do it again now?”

Brushing against your ear he rasped, “No one steals from a thief like me, I’m just taking back what was rightfully mine.” Finally pressing his lips to your neck you gasped out. Hands rising around his neck and raking through his hair he kissed down your neck holding your front tightly to him.

You didn’t dance downstairs at the party, but this man was guiding a dance you already knew the steps too. Moving away from his hair with a scratch of your nails, he moaned shamelessly into you before sinking his teeth into the mixture.

Just as you recalled, your hands found his waist. Tapping over his belt and undoing it despite the racing of your heart. Chuckling deeply into your neck, he pushed you right up against the railing. The columns too high for risk of falling over, but exposed to the night air that any wandering eye could see how quickly he yanked your long dress up your legs.

Your hands unable to get inside once freeing his belt, the man let go all of the shame that you might still hold onto. Dragging your dress over your head it dropped from his grasp, flying into the wind not even within your sights. Your chest already bare but he kissed down your torso. Skipping your breasts he made his way down the middle. Hands tight at your hips when you squirmed at his lips gentle across your stomach.

Looking up, his eyes were blown wide as much as yours were. His lips starting to swell from the pressure, he yanked down your underwear without so much as asking. He already knew your yes. Even if you didn’t recall it.

Shucking his long coat off as he stood, he turned you around so your naked front faced the scene in front. Anyone leaving the party who glanced up would be unable to miss the sight and you suspected he planned as such. “Tell me, what exactly does such a lost little lamb desire truly?”

One of his hands using his nails to scrape down your skin until he cupped your mound with no kind decorum. His voice rough, scratching and his jaw clenched. “Tell me, I may not be as patient if we need to do this all over again.”

Leaning into his touch, head on his shoulders you reached back to wrap an arm around his neck trying to meet his eyes. “Just you.”

He muttered something under his breath, a language that sounded anything but earthly before he gripped the front of your neck with his free hand and pulled your lips to his. No ease as you remembered the first time.

Many of the same nights must have passed if he was at this level of desperation. Your heart brought you to him, bare in the night’s wind as two of his fingers press against your clit, teasing with light pressure until you shivered in his touch.

His tongue traced your lips and with an impatient bite, slid inside your mouth as you gasped. Overtaking whatever control you may have thought you had, he traced over your tongue trying to coax you into exploring him the same. Tentatively, you kissed back the same but with far less confidence and more trepidation.

Regardless, as his fingers slid down to run along your slit, he gathered the wetness he found and smirked into your mouth before pulling back. A trace of saliva attached to you both as your mouth stayed partially open as he gave one more kiss and then tucked his head into your shoulder to look down at his hands.

Soaked fingers trailed back up to rub much more tightly at your clit you jumped in his arms with a soft moan. Your hands both now reaching behind to rake through his hair, making your chest arch out and giving way to his free hands greed.

It felt as if whispers of his swam inside your head despite not hearing them leave his actual mouth, quiet soothing of praise and temptation as if his connection to you had burrowed deep. There was little you found you could even say, what would you ask for at this point he knew what you wanted and he stripped you on his own balcony to deliver.

Finding a rasping voice, he found his own words to spit aloud. “You let me do this to you last time too, you know?” Putting more pressure as he rubbed your clit you felt your limbs tightening in need. “Let everyone see you gave yourself to me, showed that pathetic lover what you deserved. And here you are, letting me steal you away all over again and you can’t even remember why.”

What of your life was between these moments? Who were you really outside the manor walls, who was he to you in your soul and why did the night have to repeat itself for this reunion to even take place? An entire life surrounded by impossible mystique and yet intimacy denied it’s importance. His fingers not at your clit sunk deep inside you, scraping against a sensitive wall inside of you that had you shake in his arms. Pulling at your nipple in the same instance, you failed to come up with a name, but he smiled into your bare shoulder. He didn’t mind.

Were the sounds of the outdoors not ever present, you would be able to hear how wet you had become and how slickly two of his thick fingers slid in and out of you. His breathing growing heavy and his jaw clenching trying to pull himself together at how snug you were around him. It had been too long.

His teeth found their way to your neck, no longer playing soft games. Now he bit down close to breaking the skin, and soothed it with a kiss only to move barley an inch downward to leave his mark as much as he could, leaving the sting of his teeth radiating on you. His fingers sinking deep inside to the knuckle and pulling out almost completely before repeating rougher each time.

Your heart was on fire, spreading the warmth out into your bloodstream and making your head fuzzy with a pleasure that you wanted to consume you. Was it just his touch, or should it always feel such an overwhelming way? One of your hands grasped at his forearm, his white sleeves pushed up enough to give you something to dig your nails into.

You moaned as he hissed from the scratch but it only made him work faster. Bring you closer to the edge and throw you over it just to hear those gasping breaths from you trying to keep quiet. The last time this occurred, you weren’t.

Feeling a coil inside of you twist and tighten it made your muscles seize the closer your orgasm became, and the more he grasped tightly at whatever parts of your body his free hand could touch. Finally choosing to force your throat into his hand, turning you to look back up at him as he felt you clench around his fingers. Pressing a simple kiss to your lips, you felt them move as he spoke. “Cum for me, hermosa. I want to take you into tomorrow with my cock.”

White noise took your ears as your orgasm snapped and flooded out like a river. Arching into his touch he kept you pressed against him tightly and the hand on your throat while not getting tighter, did not leave you one bit. Crying out into the night he swore heavily under his breath at the high pitched noises that left you breathless to come down from.

You felt warm and weak in his arms as the aftershocks of his fingers pulling out of you sparked final times. His thumb not quite willing to leave your clit, he wanted you on edge. That ever present need to be taken was what he desired until his touch grew too far away to keep.

Pulling his hand up, he took the slow time to force you to watch him sink both fingers into his mouth and suck them clean of what you gave him. His hand falling to pull your bottom lip open with his thumb before sinking them deep into your mouth.

His nostrils flared and you felt his cock twitch as he pressed his hips into your ass. Letting one hand free, he shoved his hand between your bodies as much as he could manage to undo his belt. The clank of metal echoing like a drum, the sound of the zipper the ringing in your ears. “Please,”

Humming into your hair you felt his cock now bare against you, pressed down the middle of your ass as his hands now soothed over your body lightly. Gentle caresses to take you down from how hard you were panting.

Looking up at the night sky, all you could see or feel was him. His voice. His everything it consumed you like it did that very first night. “What do you want?”

Feeling his mouth curl into a smile he pressed a kiss there and many more as he made a path to your cheek for one last one. Your heads slightly leaned against one another as you felt him slide his cock between your legs. Legs which seemed to have spread on their own, or did so himself while you were too wrapped up in hos his fingers felt inside of you.

The tip tapping at your clit made you jump, but his only free hand traced it’s thumb over your stomach with a gentle shush. His other ran his cock between your legs, pressing up into your entrance. Soaking his length and teasing you. But he never pushed inside, just back and forth as he smiled at you. “Aren’t I supposed to ask you that?”

Glancing to your side as much as you could, you nuzzled into his cheek. “You already did, but no one’s ever asked you.” Watching his eyes shade dark, the warm brown returned with a softness behind them which felt unbecoming of how risque you must have looked. But he leaned in, brushing his nose against yours and pressing a kiss in it’s absence. “Let me give you what you want.”

One hand of each intertwined with the other, letting it rest gently on your chest as he murmured something deep and unintelligible into your lips. Pushing his cock inside, he filled you with one slide as he pushed past how tight you felt without him, but you were so soaked you coated his cock enough to get in.

Moaning loud into the night, his own deeper one mixed with a groan. He throbbed inside of you, making his teeth grit in a hiss as you clenched around him. He was large, larger then you think your body remembered, but you craved the burn he was giving you. Kissing your neck, he slowly moved his hips into yours. A slow thrust that wouldn’t get either of you anywhere but his own moan exposed how delirious it made him.

You could see yourself here again, only then he had nothing on and now you were bare against most of his clothes. His thrusts much more desperate and frenzied then. Flashes of you against this very railing, the wall of books in his study, the grand bed of silky sheets that called to you on lonely nights.

Not once did he let you recover that night, gasping for air as he pounded into you. Hand tight in your hair and words spitting and hissing from his mouth as he lost himself inside of you just as much as you fell into the clouds. Not quite anger, but displeased that you thought anyone could satisfy you, do right by you, treat you like a good girl gets treated who wasn’t him.

You hadn’t known then how long he had watched you, but you know now that it’s something he did much of. Even without telling you, there was something far in the recesses of your subconscious which spoke of a truth you couldn’t comprehend.

Or maybe, as he fucked you, you just didn’t care. His touch was tender, and his moans softly matched your own like there was no fire anymore. Just a trailing water just like the one you could see off in the distance. You tried to move your hips to match him, but each time he paused.

Shushing you as he readjusted his hold on your body. “We’ll get there, just let it happen.”

Whining, he smiled at you with a hooded gaze. Watching you lose your breathe despite how slow he thrusted in and out of you. He needed you as much as you desired this, and maybe those two things were one in the same now.

Maybe toying with you instead of pulling you into his arms would have spared reliving the failure over and over again. Watching your confused and hazy mind struggle to connect dots you didn’t know were there. Moving back into your neck it was his favourite spot it seemed.

Leaving gentle kisses to the teeth imprints he so proudly left, and the stinging moved from between your legs to each time the wind hit such marks. It was a good sting though, a pain that had you cling to him more as his cock once again pulled out almost entirely only to slide in deep as possible.

Your insides felt like they scrambled, head in shattered pieces from how much pleasure swam through you with each slide of his cock. You were soaking him more, it was even audible. How wet it was when he pushed back in, each slide punching just a bit harder then the last.

No sounds could be heard but you both, your moans together and his cock thrusting in and out of you covering what should have been sounds of a party. But there was no sound to cover. The first time no doubt was full of keeping you away from shame.

Forcing your sounds out for the guests to hear and refusing to hide the beauty he claimed you willingly gave to him. The party continued as you fucked. This time, the noise faded away the longer it went on.

The quiet slow nature making room for the quiet of the night. A property empty of all people except the two entangled on the balcony. It didn’t make sense, you came from a party, he threw such a party and yet only you both were here. Maybe, it was meant to be that way. Only you.

Little words were spoken as he thrusted inside of you. Just the coiling inside of you once more, only with each faster thrust you felt it wind up and spark through your limbs. Your mind letting go as it let the pleasure flood inside, his own groans muffled by your neck but your hands grasped at each other refusing to let go.

He refused to speed up much more, the slow slide of his cock deep inside you, and the shameless greed at how he wanted more of how wet you sounded when he took his time pushing in. It wasn’t easy when the flashes of how much he treated you like an animal before.

Little could back up such a boasting claim of making their partner unable to walk the next day, but he had the strength, the ability, the power to do so and not tire out himself. Not before you would inevitably. So he felt you clench around him, and your stomach muscles tighten underneath as you cried out trying to keep yourself from falling apart too soon.

If only you could hear him as he does you. One wasn’t good enough. It was just the slow fuck you both needed after all this time. But far more orgasms were gifted for your future, you just didn’t know it yet.

Saying you wouldn’t get away this time was no lie, and how much you begged for him had his lungs tighten. You were seeing more and more. Each twist of pleasure gracing you with a memory and you leaned back into him knowing his strength to hold you regardless. Falling closer and closer to your orgasm, you felt his cock throb.

No longer thrusting proper, just shallow pushes in and out of you as he grinded his hips. Hair resting now against the back of yours he panted and his hands held tighter. He was close and you were closer.

“Please,” He asked what, almost out of breathe to match your airy tone pleading. “Please, let me stay. Let me stay with you this time. Please, please..” He was so thick inside of you it wasn’t fair, his cock dragging you down to his level and keeping you there selfishly. But maybe it was truly fate.

It was fate to be here, bare in his arms, his cock fucking into you and his lips barley able to leave whatever part of your body they reached. Why would this be wrong if it felt like it was meant to be this way? He seemed to agree, the closer you came to your memory, the more he craved as much as you did. “Always, angel. Always, never fucking leaving me again. Never- fuck- never leaving this tight cunt either,”

Crying into the night you felt the coil inside once more snap but this time it raged like wildfire. Your body seizing and tightening around his cock as you begged his true name for mercy that you never wanted granted. He fucked hard by then.

Pounding short thrusts inside of you as he snarled at how tight you were clenching around him. Wrapping his arms around you tight, he punched inside of you through your orgasm until he felt yours split off to join him.

His orgasm having his nails claw into your skin as he pulled you by your throat to kiss. Tongue in your mouth as he spilled his cum inside of you. The warmth of both his mouth and cum filling you from either side making you hold onto him as if you’d be torn away then and there.

But you weren’t. You held to one another as he came inside of you, thick and copious amounts deep in you like was meant to be until you both had the fade of your orgasm slip away into a serene calm. It took even longer for him to pull out, as if you’d forget this at the chime of the clock.

Your hand wrapped behind you to his neck. Curling into the lush hair scattered about, you nuzzled his cheek, his jaw and pulled from his kiss to press much more innocent ones to each place you had gently nudged before. “Right, you’re a kitten. Not a lost little lamb, not anymore.”

Innocent pecks shared, he finally pulled out. Leaving you empty and clenching around nothing to the degree you almost fell forward. Bracing your hands on the railing in heaves of your chest to catch your breathe. His own once more wrapped around you.

His own body now bare, pressed against your form he held you in the dead of the night before tempting you away with a promise of a bath. Which you couldn’t refuse. Such a needlessly large bath much more like a hot spring that you could sink into should you want.

You shouldn’t accept the glass he offered, knowing his drinks were not the kind you should be allowed to have, but then he smiled at you. Joining the hot water filled to the brim with steam and bubbles as he almost spilled his own over the rim of the glass getting settled.

You giggled at him, and finally took a sip of your own. It burned your insides in a way it wouldn’t do to him, but he also burned at you. He held your heart, body, and soul completely and you endured the pain. Sacrificing your opposites and virtues for his temptations.

Tossing water back and forth at each other, you both stopped to take turns washing the other. Running your hands over every inch of his skin, tender and massaging that had his breathe hitch. It had been a long time since such an angelic touch graced him and he could sob it taken away now.

He was more devious. Slipping his fingers down to your clit and forcing another orgasm from you, taunting you for barley being able to hold your drink up while he did so. Laying you out half in the water, half on the tiles his own body pressed down against yours kissing you.

Sliding gently inside, he picked the pace up much faster here then before. The slosh of water barley heard over the pounding slap of his skin, the snarling grit of his teeth as he swore with no more shame and you crying high pitched whines of need begging for salvation through desire.

Not just once, twice did he fuck you right there. Your thighs in pain as he pushed them so far apart you could break, and his cock pounding so roughly into you the sheer force of his hips could leave a bruise as he marked your skin more and more.

Should you be pulled away again, he’d leave marks for them to all see. Maybe they’d cast you out for it, but you belonged here anyways. Your lips on his, your soaking tight cunt made to be filled by him only, be it his fingers or cock, working your shyness up to letting him taste you directly.

Your heart already was here. It’s why you came back to him, fell for such a ruse and fell once more in love with a rotten thief such as himself. Your souls needed the other and he refused to let you disappear without leaving him with you. Painting your walls with his cum over and over, the only way he could express his love.

Your bodies at some point entangled once more in his sheets. Barley stopping to let you breathe, he kissed you throughout and your limbs locked together as his cock did inside you. There was so party, no friend, no normal life to return to like the others. It was a devilish ruse to get you back into his arms, but it worked. And you stayed here in his touch, knowing it was a lie to steal you away again.

Somewhere in the manor, the clock chimed out and your bodies remained where they were.

Souls made of different realms of light and dark, this time they stayed together.

#the thief x reader #the thief x female reader #the thief x you #casillero del diablo #the thief imagine #the thief fanfiction #casillero del diablo imagine #pedro pascal

[magpie-to-the-morning]

Forbidden Fruit

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: The Thief x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Tags: Public nudity, explicit consent, breast worship, voice kink, fingering (female receiving)

Author’s Note: This story wouldn’t exist without two Kinktober requests! Thank you to @massivecolorspygiant for requesting Table Sex with the Thief, and @nolanell for requesting Voice Kink with him. You are my muses and I’m very grateful.

Thank you also to @radiowallet , who not only betaed this fic and contributed one of my favorite lines (hint: 🎁), but inspired me to attempt the Thief in the first place. If you haven’t read Radiant with Thief!Marcus and his Little Ghost, what are you even doing??

My Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

A richly timbred male voice curls around you like smoke, the subtle smirk sending skitters down your spine. It’s difficult to see him from your prone position on the polished mahogany table, and if you move or lift your head, you run the risk of tipping the artfully arranged forest fruits and delicate pastries laid over you, exposing your naked body to the guests thronging the banquet hall. You steal glimpses through the slits in your exquisitely molded black lace mask: broad shoulders swathed in silk. Softly curling chestnut hair shot through with strands of silver. Plush, smiling lips, made for secrets - although telling or keeping, you can’t quite decide. Dark, hooded eyes amused with what they see, even through a mask.

His is more daring than any you’ve seen so far. Black leather tooled to resemble scales, the features artfully twisted into an amused smirk, the whole piece adorned with two twisting horns, the very picture of a storybook demon.

Your attention drifts to him again and again, drawn unerringly and unbidden like a moth to a jeweled lantern’s flame. You’re forbidden to have any contact with the guests at this party but as you aren’t moving or speaking, surely it won’t hurt to brush your wings against the tinted glass.

By the time the talk is winding down and the guests have begun to take their seats, you are trembling so hard with suppressed desire that the crystal wine glasses begin to rattle. No one seems to notice. No one except the man in the embroidered silk coat. His lips curve behind the single finger he raises to them as you exchange a furtive glance.

Quiet, he seems to urge. Don’t give the game away.

When you give a barely perceptible nod, his eyes light with mischief, sending a thrill straight to your aching center.

After that, the game is well and truly on.

Some of the bolder guests have begun to lift food from the serving platter of your body, but with such tentative giggles that you nearly roll your eyes at them, something not even your shapely mask would disguise.

Not your demon.

While the others count themselves brave for lifting a vol-au-vent from the crook of your elbow, he is far bolder. One by one, the slices of fruit adoring your chest disappear past his lips with evident relish, his fingers lingering longer with every touch. With an upraised eyebrow, his hand pauses over the final two berries capping your nipples. When you flash him a small, secret smile of encouragement, he swipes them both away with a featherlight touch that has you gasping. When your lips part, he slips one into your waiting mouth. Not to be outdone, you wrap your tongue around his fingers before they depart and watch the darkening flicker in his eyes with satisfaction.

Emboldened, the other guests follow his example. A woman in shimmering beetle green delights in feeding you tidbits from her hand. Someone in a plain black tuxedo comments loudly about how he’d prefer you to any of the dishes on display - though you’re more offended at his inability to dress to the evening’s theme (“Forbidden Pleasures: A Fae Feast”) than his remarks.

Your dark-eyed demon is far, far subtler. No one notices the brush of his fingers against your inner thigh, or the way your legs part, just a little, in silent invitation. By the time you’re nearly bare, the delicacies hiding your nakedness snatched away by greedy hands, his eyes are burning coals beneath his mask.

-

You were supposed to leave.

The masquerade ball following the dinner party was not for you. You were supposed to wash away the crushed berry juices from your skin, brush off the clinging flakes of pastry, collect your wages, and go.

Instead, you’ve changed into the ball gown that has valiantly resisted wrinkling despite being crammed into a garment bag. Its pomegranate silk glides over your skin like a caress, seemingly willing to forgive your rough treatment in exchange for a night out. You arrange your hair in an artful twist and slide a new mask over your features. You scarcely recognize yourself in the baroque gilt mirror before you, and it seems impossible that any of the overfed, self-satisfied guests with pockets deep enough to be here will recognize you.

Well, with one possible exception.

Hope thrums in your chest, mothwing soft but heartbeat strong and with a final glance in the mirror for courage, you set out to find your demon.

-

“There you are.”

The velvet tones of his rich voice settle around you like a cloak even before you turn to face him. His eyes dance as he takes you in, from the six garnet drops at your throat to the ruby colored gown shading to black by the time it pools at your fight like liquid darkness. A knowing smile kindles on his features not hidden beneath black leather.

“Hello, Persephone.”

A delighted laugh catches in your throat. “I didn't think anyone would notice.”

“Oh, I noticed.” He’s closer now, his breath fanning across your cheek. The embers you’ve scarcely managed to bank flare to life in your belly and it’s all you can do not to reach out and pull him into a dark alcove then and there. “I haven’t been able to stop noticing. What are you doing, slumming with these people?”

With a jerk of his artfully tousled head, he dismisses the glitterati around you, already half wasted on champagne and designer drugs, utterly blind to the wonders of their own riches. With a thrill, you realize the man standing before you doesn’t count himself as one of them, not even aspirationally.

Curiouser and curiouser.

“I’m working,” you tell him, savoring the vagueness of the explanation.

With a roguish wink, he answers “So am I.”

Intrigued, you arch an eyebrow. “Oh? And what do you do, Sir Demon?”

Leaning in so close you’re enveloped in his scent (tobacco and clove, amber and spice), he whispers “I’m a thief.”

Startled, you pull back to search his gaze. There’s humor there, but you don’t think he’s joking, not about this. If anything he’s… waiting. Curious to see how you’ll respond, urging you to play along.

For a moment, you wonder if mingling in crowds like this to steal from them is as lonely as serving them can be.

Coming to a decision, you put your lips almost to his ear and murmur “And what is it you intend to take tonight, Thief?”

Holding out one gloved hand, he says “Let me show you.”

-

He draws you into the hushed stillness of a library, empty aside from the sleeping books lining the walls, their gilt titles all but glowing in the starlight shining through an enormous plate glass window. It’s a massive space, all vaulted ceilings and shadowy stacks, an abundance of a different kind of wealth on full display.

The Thief looks on as you run a hand over the spines of the books in a gentle caress.

“Take one.”

Your fingers falter over a midnight blue spine stamped with silver stars but you shake your head, your throat suddenly thick with longing.

“I’m pretty sure they’d throw me into a literal dungeon for even trying.” The smile you attempt doesn’t quite reach your eyes but you shake it off, not wanting to spoil the magic of this one, stolen night with him.

“Well?” You prompt, the lightness back in your tone once you’ve turned to face him. “You haven’t told me what you’re here to steal. Is there a safe in here, or, ohh, is there treasure in a -“

He muffles your words with a kiss. It’s light at first, the brush of his mouth against yours, one palm cradling your jaw.

“You,” he breathes when you come up for air, starry-eyed and wondering, though not completely surprised. His thumb traces a line down your lower lip and comes to rest at your chin. He holds you in a terribly gentle grasp, his eyes searching yours as he asks “Will you let me?”

“Yes.” You both smile when your answer nearly trips over his questions in your rush to get his mouth back on yours. You’ve been aching for him for hours and oh, his kiss is as deliciously decadent as you’d hoped, rich and heady as rich red wine.

You don’t even try to suppress your moan when his tongue slips past your lips, grazing yours in a hungry glide that sends you gasping for more. He obliges, one broad hand at your hip, the other settling at the nape of your neck, the better to tip your mouth to his so he can drink you down. He licks into your mouth, drawing moans from you with a passion that leaves you trembling.

For all his evident skill, his is a barely controlled hunger and you wonder at his restraint in keeping it leashed this far. You’re not faring much better, truth be told. Your arms are wound around his neck, your chest straining against the confines of your corset. His warmth seeps into you but it isn’t enough. Your body screams to be closer, to press skin to skin and let him ravage you completely.

“I wanted to take you right there on that table,” he groans, the curve of his nose pressed to your cheek. You didn’t even see him remove the mask, it’s simply gone, leaving his face bared to you. “And now I can’t decide if I liked you better naked and on display for me or wrapped up so pretty like a perfect little present.”

His fingers trail down the laces at the back of your gown and drift until he’s cupping your backside, pulling you close enough to feel how badly he wants you. When you hitch one leg up to grind closer, he’s quick to run his palm up your thigh, holding you at his hip and groaning when you roll against him.

“Unwrap me, then.” You barely recognize the sultry sound of your own voice, but the Thief rewards your boldness. With a flick of his wrist, your laces are undone and with a conjuror’s flourish, he tugs your bodice down, exposing your straining breasts to his wicked mouth.

“I’ve wanted to do this all night,” he purrs, laying you down on a solid oak table. With one broad hand splayed across your collarbones, he lowers his head. Already burning for his touch, the scorching heat of his tongue, you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug, urging him on.

But oh, he makes you wait.

He trails light, teasing kisses over your breasts, chuckling when you whine and clutch at him, greedy for more.

“Patience,” he tuts. “I want you as ravenous for me as I am for you. Do you have any idea how badly I want you? Getting my hands on you, stealing you away - it’s all I’ve been able to think about tonight.”

His low voice throbs between your legs, the throaty purr enough to leave you soaking for him. You score a momentary reprieve when he finally wraps his lips around your peaked nipple and sucks hard, all the while kneading and pinching your other breast beneath his agile fingers. You gasp and shudder for him, your breath hitching when he mirrors the actions on the opposite sides. But as exquisite as his mouth is, you need more.

“I do want you,” you whimper helplessly. “This is all I’ve wanted since I heard you in that banquet hall.”

This earns you an amused glance as he pauses, his chin between the valley of your breasts. “Oh? You like my voice?”

The strangled noise you make at that ridiculous question is enough to give him his answer.

“Alright, treasure,” he soothes, and you can feel him grinning in the dark, his jawline scraping against your heated flesh. He’s already standing between your legs but he nudges them wider, pushing your skirts up around your waist in one smooth motion, the better to stroke one hand up your quivering thigh. He sighs with pleasure when his fingers reach the dampened scrap of silk between your legs and he pushes it aside to cup your wet heat, parting your folds and rubbing circles around and around your swollen clit with practiced ease.

“I’m going to make you come telling you all the filthy things I’ve been going out of my damn mind thinking about.”

He bends over you then, his broad form covering yours, his hand trapped between your bodies as you clutch desperately at his shoulders, his fingers working furiously to drive you to a fevered state of need.

Bringing his lips to your ear, he drops his voice to a subterranean rumble that rolls through you like thunder and says,

“And then… I’m going to do them.”

—

#The Thief x Reader #The Thief x F!Reader #The Thief x Fem!Reader #Casillero del Diablo #if marketing people are seeing this #yes I do indeed buy this wine bc of Pedro and I am not alone 🤣 #but also please look away #Emma does Kinktober 2022 #Fic #My fic

[write-and-buried]

Omg please tell us more about that one shot ❤️‍🔥

yeahhhh this is filth.

He isn't even focused on his mark.

Instead, his hand is warm and splayed across your knee, his thumb barely brushing the skin as he focuses all his attention on your mouth.

Your stupid mouth, that you should have kept shut. But the wine was rich and heady, making your head swim with warmth, tingles down your spine that you attributed to the alcohol not the spicy scent of the man next to you.

He calls you, sometimes. A dress and shoes show up that afternoon, some mark at some restaurant whose pocket he wants to pick, whose car he wants to follow home, and he can't be seen alone.

It's nothing, its a favour, it's just work. But you had to go and open your stupid mouth and admit this was the closest thing you did to date.

You didn't miss the way his eyebrows raised in surprise. For a master thief his face is expressive, those warm cinnamon brown eyes narrowing or widening every time you're on one of these pseudo dates.

"This isn't a date sweetheart" he said softly.

"I know that" you snap quickly, lava boiling under your skin as you feel your body stiffen beside him.

His hand is warm on your knee, spreading tendrils of a soft glow through your system.

"This isn't how I treat my dates" he says, leaning close to your ear, his breath on your skin making you shiver.

"I-I know that"

"So tell me sweetheart, how do you think I treat my dates"

He's smirking, that expressive face giving away his enjoyment of your discomfort. His hand is like an anchor, keeping you close to him as you focus on the tiny plate of artful food in front of you.

"You cook for them, probably" you start, impressed with yourself that your voice doesn't waver.

"Mhmm" he murmurs beside you, and you feel it shoot straight between your legs, the low rumble of promise.

"I think it's because you want them in your home. You want to show off, impress them, make them more likely to stay the night" You want some of the upper hand back in this conversation, pinned by his hand and his gaze.

"People want to stay the night for other reasons" he chuckles.

"Like what" you huff

"Use your imagination sweetheart" he grins.

It's a command, and you cant help it, your stupid brain offering you images of being pushed onto a dining table, your expensive dress crumpling around your hips as warm huge hands spread your thighs, a crown of curly hair and a smirk disappearing between them. Of your back arching and knocking wine glasses, the stain creeping across a table runner as you drip into his hungry mouth.

Your sure your fingers are trembling, not confident enough to reach for the wine, quench your suddenly dry mouth with the wine in front of you.

"Tell me" he says, running his nose up your neck, your skin shivering the soft press of his lips behind your ear making you whimper.

"You want them to... enjoy themselves"

"I do, so tell me, how do I make that happen"

"I... You..."

He focuses on you, the look of a hunter, studying prey, deciding how best to attack.

"Go on sweetheart"

The heat simmers on your cheeks and between your legs, the soft metronome of his thumb bringing your arousal to a boiling point. Squeezing your thighs together, you can feel the wetness between your legs and you close your eyes.

"You make them cum" you whisper.

"I do. Fingers, tongue, both... as many times as I can, I want them writing, gasping, panting. Flooding my mouth, soaking me, I want to press fingers deep inside someone so I can feel them fall apart, lick up all that sweet honey, share their taste before I fuck them. Swollen and ripe for me so I can squeeze my cock inside them, hearing that little whimper as I stretch them open."

You whimper, you can't help it.

"So you see sweetheart, this can't be a date, because your legs aren't around my shoulders and my face isn't buried in your cunt"

You nod, looking at the ceiling as he squeezes your knee.

"You want to go on a date with me sweetheart?" he asks, sitting back into the booth of the restaurant, reaching for his wine.

"Yes" you whisper.

He smirks, bringing the wine to his lips.

"Good Girl."

#the thief #pedro pascal characters #The thief x reader #The thief x you

[forever-rogue]

The Painting

AN | There is absolutely no reason for this except I saw some vague prompt somewhere about two individuals meeting in a museum while looking at a portrait of people who exactly like them. I couldn’t get the idea or the Thief out of my head so here we are! Part soulmate au, part sugary sweet fluff, but all softness! Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | The Thief x Fem!Reader

Warnings | None

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | PP Characters, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Taking the chance and moving to Italy to finish your studies had been both the easiest and hardest decision of your life. The opportunity to live in the birthplace of the renaissance seemed like a dream; but having to leave behind all of your friends and family had been rough. But in the end, as you traveled throughout Europe and had the opportunity to see some of the most beautiful sights in the world, you’d decided that it was worth it. Nothing could compare to the experiences you were having, the art you were able to see and study in real life instead of through books and pictures. 

You loved getting to walk through hallowed halls filled with both beautiful artwork and centuries of history. There seemed to be a new place to explore every weekend and you often let yourself go wherever the day took you. But there was one feeling you could never quite seem to shake. The feeling that something was missing…like a piece of you wasn't quite there. And no matter how many adventures or wonderful things you got to do, that hole in your heart never seemed to be filled. But that was a matter for a different day.

This particular afternoon found you wandering through the halls of the Uffizi Gallery. You’d been here many times before, spending hours walking around and taking it all in, working on your own sketches from all the inspiration around you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was quiet today, the mid-spring rain seeming to keep most people inside or occupied elsewhere, which left you as one of the few stragglers inside. Your sketchpad was clutched tightly against your chest as you made your way upstairs to one of your favorite spots. It was in the back of the gallery and often quiet. The bench in front of your favorite painting was empty so you quietly slid into it, setting your things down before giving the painting a cursory once over. It was only then that you noticed that the painting that normally hung there was gone. The replacement was one you’d never seen before, not online or in books or texts. 

Your breath caught in your throat in a flurry of excitement as you stood up to examine it. At first glance it appeared to be in the vain of Botticelli or Caravaggio, but it had a certain distinct quality to it that you couldn’t quite place. There wasn’t a signature to be found, nor had there been any announcement about any new artwork. How very curious. 

You got as close to it as possible without setting off any of the alarms, taking in the brushwork and color choices in an attempt to see if you could discover the artist. It was some time before you stepped back to take in the composition and subject. The portrait was of a man, shielding and protecting a woman from something off canvas. You wondered what it could have been, what could have prompted the artist to want to capture this particular moment. The man in the painting was handsome; you could see that he was the essence of beauty with dark curls that framed his face and a strong jaw and nose. There was something unique about him, but at the same time you felt like you had seen him before; like you knew him despite the fact that whoever the inspiration was had likely been dead for centuries. 

It was the woman that you noticed only after a thorough study of the gallant man clearly portrayed as a hero. She was beautiful, stylized with a light glow behind her as she gazed upon the man with a serene expression. It wasn’t until you really took a close look that you realized…she looked a lot like you. Or perhaps you looked like her. She had extremely similar if not the same features as you from your nose to your eyes and lips, the same hair only differently styled. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were looking at a portrait of yourself. One that had been created hundreds of years ago. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” you hadn’t even heard anyone come up or approach, and you jumped back in surprise, almost falling over your own feet. Once you steadied yourself, your heart beating wildly, you looked at the stranger that had suddenly made their appearance, “I didn’t mean to scare you! I thought you heard me coming.”

“N-no,” your response was a nervous stammer, “I guess I was too caught up in looking at the painting.”

“I can understand why…it’s a remarkable painting,” it was only now that you took a proper look at him. You were caught off guard for the second time since he’d appeared, but this time it was by his beauty. His was handsome, in a roguish type of way, with a head full of thick dark curls, soft but deep eyes, dark but patchy facial hair flecked with grays, and a strong nose and jaw, He was impeccably dressed in a suit that must have been tailored for him; way better looking than anyone had the right to be and completely out of place in the quiet gallery. You look down at yourself and immediately felt underdressed in your simple jeans and sweater. 

“Yeah,” you agreed, offering him a small smile and wondering if he could sense everything you were thinking and feeling. You reached for your bag and sketchbook, ready to make a hasty escape to try and process the sudden onslaught of emotions. How could they be this strong about a stranger? None of it made sense, “I-I should get going.”

“Why did it capture your attention?” it was like he had reached out and taken hold of your arm to stop you. But in reality he had only asked the question as you attempted to rush past him. You turned back to him with an eyebrow raised, “this particular piece has captured your fancy. Why?”

For whatever reason, you felt compelled to walk back to him, standing to where your shoulder was almost brushing him. You could smell the light but undoubtedly expensive cologne he was wearing, and it made you want to bury your face in his neck and breathe him in. You shook your head to get yourself out of this silly daydream little fantasy, “I’ve never seen this painting before…I study art, especially medieval and renaissance art and I’ve never come across it. It’s unique - the composition, the brushwork, all of it. I was looking for the artist’s name but couldn’t find it. Whoever they were, they must have been educated or at least heavily inspired by Botticelli or someone like him.”

“It’s anonymous,” he stated simply as your eyebrows raised in surprise, “the artist was never identified and we’ll never know if they’ve done any other work. Which leaves us with only this piece."

“How did you…know that?” handsome and mysterious? He had your attention to say the least, “I haven't seen anything announced about the painting at all.”

“That’s because it used to be my personal collection,” it was a revelation that left you floored. With that knowledge, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps it was a recently created painting paired with some made up folklore and sold for money. But no…this painting was undoubtedly old and the Uffizi would never bring just any painting into their gallery, “I thought it was time to share it with the world. Even if just for now.”

“That’s…extremely generous,” you smiled at him, “how does one happen to come into possession of potentially priceless art?”

“There is always a way,” he played it off with a small smile, not completely dodging your question but also not answering it, “I’ve been waiting for the day…”

He trailed off as he studied you intently, causing you to want to squirm and want to melt into the floor. Instead, his large hands gently found your shoulders and he moved you to stand in front of him. You could feel his breath tickling your neck as you tried to keep it together. His hands delicately skimmed down your arms before he stopped at your wrists, brushing your fingers with his before they settled on your waist. A small little moan escaped your lips and you were already too far gone to realize that you were standing here with a virtual stranger where anyone could walk up. 

“What do you see?” his voice was low and velvety smooth in your ear, and it was only then that you realized you’d closed your eyes. You looked the painting over, taking it all in just as you had when you’d first laid eyes on it. Your breath caught in a small gasp as you realized what he was trying to get at. You felt him push your hair to the side before he dragged his nose against your neck, stopping with his lips at your pulse point, “tell me.”

“I-it’s you,” your voice was a small whisper as you realized that it was him in the painting. Maybe it was just…someone long gone that had shared an uncanny resemblance with him. But…no. That was him; it was clear as day now, “the man in the painting is you.”

“Yes,” suddenly you wanted to feel his lips all over his body, to hear him speak the most innocent and sinful of words for just you to hear, “what else?”

“The woman…she’s…me,” you concluded softly, his hum vibrating in his chest, “I don’t understand…how?”

“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” he whispered before delicately turning you around so you could face him. You flushed with warmth and tried to turn away, but instead he put his finger under chin and kept your gaze trained on him, “I thought I might never find you again.”

“What do you mean?” you leaned into his touch as his hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. You had questions, but at the same time, you knew that you already had all the answers you could ever need within you, “tell me.”

“I have looked far and wide for you, mi tesoro,” he leaned in, leaving very little space between your bodies. If you leaned in any further, you could kiss him; and that was currently all you wanted to do. Your whole body was practically humming with excited, nervous energy, “I thought I might not find you in this lifetime. To think I might have lost you forever…I couldn’t bear the thought.”

“How did you know I’d be here?” you allowed yourself to touch his face, ghosting your fingers along his jaw, “I…why can’t I remember everything?”

“You could say I had a feeling,” he admitted with a small smile, “and those feelings have been right in the past. I’ve been watching you, waiting for this moment until I couldn’t wait for you any longer.”

“Oh,” you looked at him with wide, innocent eyes and his heart melted, “how long have you been here? In Italy?”

“Some time,” your heart felt content, like it was suddenly at home after searching for so long. You supposed it had; like it had finally found the missing piece, "I waited until I was sure you'd remember me. At first I thought you didn't…"

"I didn't right away…but now," you cradled his face in your hands, "my heart remembers. I've missed you this whole lifetime but didn't know what was missing. It’s been like a big part of my heart was missing until now - until I felt your touch again. It just needed to see you again, amor."

“May I kiss you?” his umber eyes, soft but ever so expressive, searched yours as held himself back. A small, wistful little sound left your lips as you nodded, wanting to feel his lips on yours once again. You closed your eyes as he kissed you - again, finally - after so long. It was a soft, delicate thing, hardly more than what would be considered a chaste kiss rather than one between lovers. You could feel he was testing the waters to make sure you were still okay with it, with him. You pulled him back down to your lips and stole a few more kisses from him, before letting him go, “I’ve missed you so much. I don’t know what I would have done…any lifetime without you would not have been worth living.”

“And now you will not be alone,” you promised, “we have always found each other, through centuries and lives that were not easy or kind to us. I think we’ll always be together in the end. It’s…the memories are there, vague and distant, but they’re coming back to me.”

“Perhaps I’ll have to kiss you until you remember everything,” there he was. That silly, playful man that had your heart for as long as you could remember, for as long as time itself, “you get more and more beautiful all the time. It hardly seems fair that you’re stuck with me.”

“As if you don’t know you are the most handsome man," you carded a hand through his hair, careful not to mess it up, "if there's anyone that my heart has to be bound to, I'm glad it's yours."

He took a step back, his hand still holding yours as he admired you. The familiarity of the gesture reminded you of the countless times he'd done this in the past. It still managed to make you feel like he thought you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. In his eyes, you easily were.

"You've always been a flatterer."

"It's always worked," you reminded him as the corners of his mouth tugged up into a small smile, “how did you know to have them put the painting here now? That I would be here today?”

“When you have known someone through so many lifetimes, it’s not hard to anticipate what they’ll do,” he had leaned in so he was whispering in your ear, causing gooseflesh to break out all over your skin, “I know you better than you could ever know.”

“That’s very romantic of you, mi amor,” you tugged on the fine, soft lapels of his jacket to keep him close, “but I’m pretty sure I know you just as well. I might not remember everything just yet, but I know that much. Just how closely have you been watching without me noticing?”

He laughed at that, a deep hearty laugh that caused his eyes to crinkle in the corners and that one dimple to become more prominent. How you had missed that laugh; your heart felt more than full at hearing it again, “like I said, long enough. I wouldn’t have said or done anything if I wasn’t sure the timing was right.” 

“One more thing,” you held up your hand and he pressed his against yours, his much larger hand dwarfing yours, “how did you find the painting? Wasn’t it…lost at some point?”

“It was…some few centuries ago,” he brought your hand to his lips and placed a delicate kiss to each finger, “but like I said, I have my ways.”

“Once a thief, always a thief,” you shook your head in amusement, “but I think whatever heist brought it back to you was worthwhile.”

“That’s I stole your heart as well,” this time it was your turn to laugh, causing him to feel warm and at ease, “don’t deny it, tesoro.”

“You are a fool of a man and always have been,” you worried your bottom lip as he stared at you in what was nothing but pure adoration, “thank you for finding me. I suppose next time it’s my turn.”

“My heart will always find yours,” he promised, “in every lifetime. Will you come home?”

“I already am home,” you teased, “but for all intents and purposes, yes. Of course I will.”

He took a small step back and held out his hand to you, waiting to see if you would take it. As if there ever had been any doubt that you would. You might have enjoyed giving him a hard time, but you would always follow him, as he would follow you. You grabbed your bag and slipped your hand in his, “preciosa.”

“One more thing,” you insisted before he could walk away, “how are you going to get that painting back? I’d like to keep it with us, amor.”

“I can find a way,” he winked as you sighed playfully at him, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Always and forever.”

#the thief #the thief x reader #the thief x you #the thief x fem!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #sigh....yeah

[oonajaeadira]

WINKTOBER DAY 13: Face Sitting (The Thief)

Okay, listen, some of the prompts required a little more crowbarring and invention than others. This is one of them.

“What’s this?” you growl as your thief places a box in your hands.

“I have a little bet going with a friend, but I need you to hide this from me–keep it safe, it’s very valuable.”

Not trusting him, you peel the lid back on the box to reveal a piece of sand-colored linen that looks to be stained…with…something…that looks like–

Glaring sharp daggers of disbelief and panic at him, you slap the lid shut and raise your voice in accusation, “Please do not tell me you are asking me to hide the damned–sorry–the actual Shroud of Turin in my apartment?!”

“Just for the night, Angel, then back to Italy it goes.”

After you breathe a strained count to ten and mumble something about not being his accomplice, his servant, his….his damn face-sitter, he slips away into the night, chuckling, “No, my dear, but if that’s what you want in payment, it can easily be arranged….”

—

WINKTOBER 2022 MASTERLIST

#winktober #six sentence ficlets #casillero del diablo fanfiction #the thief #the thief x reader #the thief x f!reader

[trulybetty]

I love seeing all of your WIPs! Now, you may think I'd ask about Sequins!Dieter (which I am intrigued about) buuuuut I'm more curious about The Thief! I don't think I've read much about him!

Pedro tax

I'm so excited you asked about The Thief, it's been sat in my WIP folder for monnnnths! I started it but hit a bit of a road block of where I wanted to take it.

So it's based on the Greek myth of Hades and Persephone - the idea being that they only cross paths with one another during certain parts of the year in an almost cat and mouse game - both reversing the roles each time.

It gives off mythological/supernatural vibes, but it isn't - still working on the loose threads to tie it together.

But anyway, here's the moodboard that's been sitting in Canva gathering dust...

And here's a snippet...

#betty talks #rhoorl #wip #the thief x reader

[psychedelic-ink]

does "the thief" have a name, or do we just give him one our own? Like, is there a collectively settled name in the pedro fandom?

#asking for....purposes #👀 #the thief x reader #the thief

[writeforfandoms]

CONGRATS, KNIFEY.

How about a Thief soulmate!!!

#2. You see in grayscale until you see your soulmate.

<3

HI KNIFEY. <3

Okay we're gonna ignore how old this ask is.

So! Here we are with a Thief soulmate bit. I hope you enjoy! And a quick shout out to @beecastle for helping me figure this one out.

Warnings: Language. Fluff. Flirting. Open ending.

Word count: 1k

Thief x f!reader

I’m Beginning to See the Light

All your life, you've only seen in grayscale. And it didn't bother you, not really. Oh, sure, you wanted to see in color. You really wanted it. 

But you didn't let the lack bother you. In fact, you were taking yourself on a date to one of the local art galleries. Sure, some of the complexity would be lost on you, but hey, that was okay. You’d still enjoy it. You already had it planned out - you’d get lunch and spend the afternoon in the gallery (and probably get sucked into the shop, if you were being honest with yourself). 

You finished the bit of cleaning you’d assigned yourself for the morning, and smiled. Your apartment wasn’t much, but it was yours, the familiar shades of gray soothing to you. You knew (from other people) that your walls were blue, the couple potted plants you kept were green. But to you, it was all variations of gray, ranging from deep to mild to speckled, even. (You had to assume the speckling was because the actual blanket was speckled.) 

Grabbing your soft cardigan and comfy shoes, you locked the apartment behind you. It was a short walk to the gallery from where you lived, something you were thankful for. As much as you grumbled about late night noises and early morning traffic, you knew you were lucky to live where you did. You had access to everything you needed here. 

It was a mild day, and you kept to yourself as you walked. Sometimes you amused yourself by guessing what colors would be, if you could see. Was that man’s shirt blue? Or maybe green. Oh, that skirt was definitely multi-color, maybe a rainbow. It was exciting to think about. 

Maybe one day you’d even be lucky enough to test out your theories. 

You paid the entrance fee and double-checked that your phone was muted before you started down a gallery.

And the art was… Well, you’d heard that art was a form of magic, but wow. This was… vivid. Moreso than you were used to. The grays seemed starker, more… something. It was fascinating. And affecting you more than art usually did. 

You took your time meandering through the exhibit, slowly working your way towards the back. As you did, you noticed you could almost… see the colors? But that couldn’t be right. You couldn’t. You hadn’t met anyone since walking in, had barely even looked up from the art. But you could swear that you could almost see sparkles of color in the works towards the back. It made no sense. None at all. 

So engrossed in the painting in front of you, you didn’t even notice someone walking towards you, and the two of you bumped shoulders. You gasped and reached out a hand to steady yourself on something, and your hand landed on an arm. 

You lifted your gaze to him and gasped softly again. His eyes were brown. Brown and bright and beautiful. His coat was black with accents of gold and… was that teal? Turquoise? You’d have to learn all of these names now. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, still stunned, blinking at him. 

“It’s fine,” he replied, voice low and a little rumbly and pleasant. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you agreed, distracted as one large hand cupped your elbow. The two of you were pressed close together, still touching. The rest of the world had just faded away, as far as you were concerned. 

His lips quirked, somewhere between a smirk and a smile. “I think you’re more than fine,” he murmured, apparently teasing. 

You felt blood rush to your cheeks, but you smiled. He really was handsome, with a bit of silver in his hair that you wanted to investigate with your fingers. 

Your eyes blew wide. Wait. Silver in his hair. His brown hair. And brown eyes. You could see him! In full color! 

His smirk widened into a grin. “Catching up?” His tone was still light and teasing, though his hand tightened just a little on you. Unwilling to let go just yet. 

“I’m–I wasn’t expecting this today,” you said, and then winced at your own verbal stumbling. “I never thought I’d meet you here, I mean.” 

“No?” He tilted his head to one side a little. His thumb began brushing back and forth over your elbow in a distracting rhythm. 

“I don’t know why,” you admitted. “I’ve wondered where I’d meet you, and when. I swear, I must have thought of a thousand different ways.” Embarrassment crept up your face, and you ducked your head. 

“Hey.” The murmur was gently reprimanding, and his free hand rose. He pinched your chin ever so delicately between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your chin enough to meet your gaze again. “Don’t do that. I haven’t had my fill of your beautiful eyes yet.” 

Your jaw dropped open, just a little. Oh. Oh. “Well,” you started slowly, locking your lips, “I kinda hope you’ll get a chance to see a lot more of them. Since we are, y’know, soulmates.” 

He nodded slowly, gaze lifting to take a quick look around before he refocused on you. “Can I treat you to lunch? Coffee? Something stronger?” 

You smiled slowly. “I haven’t had lunch yet,” you offered him. “There’s a cafe I was planning to visit just around the corner from here.” 

He released you, but you didn’t even have time to mourn the loss before he was holding out his hand to you. “Shall we?” 

“We shall.” You smiled and took his hand. Nothing was set in stone, of course, but maybe… Just maybe… Well, you could hope that this was the first of many conversations between the two of you.

--

Taglist: @fandom-blackhole @quica-quica-quica @queridopascal @littlemisspascal @shoopidly @cannedsoupsucks @liviii98 @adriiibell @pbeatriz @oonajaeadira @green-socks @withakindheartx @linkpk88 @anditsmywholeheart @ohheyitsokay @amneris21 @myguiltypleasures21 @grogusmum @pedrostories @pjkimrn @mswarriorbabe80 @thegreenkid @luz-introvertida @bruxasolta @lowlights @seasonschange-butpeopledont @princessxkenobi @chaoticgeminate @thirddeadlysin @beskarprincessjenny @stevie75 @the-feckless-wonder @janebby @idreamofboobear @jaime1110 @recklessworry @hotchlover @snarwor @bowtiesandsandshoes @scorpio-marionette @bearcina @practicalghost @beecastle @phandoz @tintinn16 @tanzthompson @the-fic-baker @churchill356 @tentacruels @fabilei 

#jen's 500 follower celebration #the thief x reader #the thief x you

[deadhumourist]

So I've been working on a story that is really different from my favourite tropes and characters, and features the Thief (in my story his name is Thiago) and he is the heir to the Castillo Des Flores. Here's a snippet - I need to edit and start posting at some point...Kurt raised him from boyhood, and he sends Kurt on a mission.

The goodbye was made even more difficult by the harsh words traded between him and his adopted son behind the heavy oak doors right before Kurt’s departure. Trying to change his mind one last time, he had entered Thiago’s study and begged for him to listen. 

"This is an impossible task, Thiago. You must see that."

Delivering his first missive, Kurt watched the other man for a reaction. His head was bowed down slightly as he rolled a paperweight over his fingers, letting it roll back into his palm slowly. The dark curls brushed the collar of his light shirt as he raised his head, the dark eyes trained on the anxious man sitting opposite him. Kurt had known Thiago long enough to know that when he peers at someone over the strong curved nose, that it means trouble. It was times like these that Kurt felt every inch of the impressive title that the man carried. 

Anyone keen?

#pedro pascal fanfiction #the thief x reader #pedro pascal #the thief x you

[theredwritingwitch]

Dinner for Fools

Pairing: The Thief x fem!reader

Summary: Your Thief is considered the best in the world, but how do the other greatest thieves in the world compare? And after a night of learning how to catch a thief, how do you compare?

Word Count:  4.7K

Warnings: cursing, stealing, lost of stealing, fun fluff, alcohol consumption

Ratings: M

Author’s Note: mi alma my soul

Do You Know Your Den Is Full Of Thieves…

From China, Mexico, Australia, South Africa, and to France; they all crowded around the long dining table. Painted faces of long dead and forgotten nobles hung high on the walls of the dining room, watching the circle of conspiring yet cagey criminals collude over the candle lit table and mutter under their breaths to the shadows behind their backs. Blueprints were spread amongst the flowing wine just as photos were passed around the hushed plotters. And at the head of the table, sipping his favorite wine away, was the Thief. Content as the king of thieves, with his devious minions eyeing him up and down as his own eyes watched the swirl of red wine in his glistening glass. Here he had invited all the world’s greatest thieves, all except you.

You lurked around the edges of the room, in and around the cracked doors, and eavesdropped through the hidden halls behind rigged paintings. Working for the world’s greatest thief had many advantages; a good salary, nice benefits, and decent trips around the world. Once in a while, the Thief would gift you an expensive, and more than likely stolen, gift. He dazzled and spoiled you like you were one of the many statues he placed in the corners of his mansion. It helped that you swore your loyalty to the man, signing the dotted line as proof. You dusted and shined his treasures, scheduled his travel destinations, and swept his messes. You even had to put out a small fire in the wine storage once. You knew of his “jobs” or his gigs, but you knew not to speak so much of them. His travel, plans, ideas, and even his name was kept under lock and key; it was a sign and seal contract. There was a clear understanding, a fine line, in what questions you could ask and how much you were allowed to snoop. 

It was intriguing to you how detailed the job was but how amused the Thief was of your curious and cunning mind. The former assistant of the house was much more severe and dedicated to the practical nature of the job. He had found you between jobs, stating that his employer had asked for you personally. He interviewed you several times, even as the Thief had told him on countless occasions that you were hired. You did the tasks that your new employer asked of you, while still playing ball with the old assistant to satisfy his need for professionality as well as satisfying your need to prove to him that you were perfect for the job. It didn’t take long for him to concede and retire, granting you your new title and office with a new beautifully polished wooden desk that the Thief had taken from some parliament house. 

The report between you and the Thief didn’t take long for you to fill. You were told not to ask questions or to bat an eye at the curious nature and details of the job. But curiosity never killed the cat in your mind, and the Thief was fond of cats.

“Nine lives,” the Thief had stated out of the blue one day.

“What?”

“Cats have nine lives, yet you’ve used all nine of them and then some.” His smile was contagious as you smiled right back at him.

“Is this in relation to the no questions, no accidents rule?” 

“Perhaps,” he chuckled. “Maybe I should change that rule in the job contract?”

“Probably. You have let me ask more than nine questions. Your other employees never made it this far did they?”

He shook his head no, “Not a one.”

“Obviously this job isn’t for everyone,” you joked.

The Thief tucked your hand in the crook of his arm, “Well you and I aren’t like most people, aren’t we mi alma.”

As his job was delicate in its nature, so were your questions. But his answers never stopped or faltered no matter how much you poked at him or how carefully you watched him. Truthfully he seemed to enjoy your inquisitive nature, basked in your adoring eyes. His need for secrecy didn’t bother you, his undercover title of world’s greatest thief needed no explanation as far as the job’s details go. All the other jobs you had couldn’t compare to this one. Unbothered by the clear thievery going on, you stuck to your thief. Even when you wanted more. 

So here you were, watching and waiting behind old paintings in thin hidden halls. The whispers, no matter how quiet, were heard by your ears. Even the slight-of-hand slips of paper were seen under your present eyes. You didn’t like the idea of these people plotting behind the thief’s back, even though he seemed unbothered by the folk. You watched him smell his wine and glide it around his glass as you told him so earlier.

“There’s always a fool, let’s find out who it is,” he shrugged.

Sitting in the dark hall alone to listen to the chimes of glass and giggle of schemers, you felt like you were the fool tonight. Sure you were content on most nights with this job, never bored that was for sure. But you didn’t want to be waiting at the hand of anyone for the rest of your life. You needed more, needed to find your own treasure as the Thief would put it. Although you were no thief of your own, that wasn’t your style. You planned, you coordinated, but never took what wasn’t yours, unless the Thief gifted it to you that is. But that was different. No, you wanted something of your own. Your eyes slowly ran down the table of thieves, watching as they mulled over plans, until you settled on your Thief. He relaxed and studied his wine, interjecting with stories to the conversation every now and again, but he didn’t participate in the scheming. 

His plaid coat stretched nicely over his shoulders as he slowly walked around the table, leaning into his compatriots and eyeing the plans in front of them. You watched as his deft fingers casually floated over the backs of the chairs, his other hand brushing his graying beard before running a string of hair away from his eye. His hair looked so delectably soft in the candlelight of the night, and you knew it was since you were the one who had helped style it earlier, smiling to yourself when you watched his eyes close as your fingers ran through the soft curls. The Thief continued his route around the table, chuckling and conversing by leaning close to the other thieves’ ears. He often did that to you, feeling his nose lightly trace your ear as his breath slid past your cheek. The only difference here was that he would always hold your elbow or arm to him, anchoring you to your spot and to him. You waited without fail to every word he said during these talks, not a bone in your body could tear you away. And in the end, you always wanted him to whisper more.

Finally making his way near his own seat, you listened with interest to a story you had heard many times already, one the Thief loved to tell again and again. Truly he loved a good challenge, no matter if he was the one to take it or dish it out. He retold the story and warned the thieves of the Devil’s protection on the wine, ending the story with a swirl of wine running down his throat. You rolled your eyes to the warning, unimpressed that everyone seemed to be so unperturbed. You knew, as well as the Thief, there would be at least one fool to look out for in the night. 

They all chuckled and poked fun at the tale while an amused Thief lifted his eyes from his guests to take a sip of wine, landing his sight directly on you. You held your breath as the man seemed to look right through the cut eyes of the painting and into your own as you sat still in the dark secret passage. Unblinking, you held his focus until he finally gave a nod almost to himself and finished his wine. Rising from his seat, just as you rose from yours, a declared the evening over and for the guests to return to their rooms at their leisure. You rushed out of the passage to your own office as the Thief walked out of the dining room, leaving his guest to their wandering eyes and fingers. 

“What are the odds this time?” The thief walked into your office as you had just settled yourself with your own drink for the night.

“100% they will all try to steal from you,” you stated without missing a beat.

“You have no faith in my friends,” the Thief pouted and then quickly smiled, “I give it a 60/40 chance.”

“You’re making a big mistake.”

“In letting them steal? We’ve discussed this.” He leaned across the desk to you.

“No, you’re mistaken in thinking they are your friends,” you leaned up to him with a mocking tone.

“Well that’s where you're wrong, what’s the phrase? Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.” The Thief grabbed your hand and tugged you out of the office.

“And what am I then?”

“Maybe tonight is the night you find out,” he patted your hand and winked before letting you go. You rolled your eyes at him but bit your lip when he turned away.

“Let’s go see who's wandering around the halls tonight, shall we.” His smug face widened as he swung a portrait open to let the two of you enter the secret passage.

Yes, Well Let The Games Begin…

A guest was already missing. The Thief had led you further down the passage, viewing several different rooms in the mansion including the music room, the parlor, and the games room. The guests were scattered in these three rooms, along with meandering the halls and their own bedrooms for the night. A few seemed to partake in communing still together, but others decided to snoop on their own. All were in the same area, except one.

The Thief spied that the group was missing a guest instantly.

“He kept asking about the history of our home, schmoozing the layout out of me. I’ve heard you have a collection of art, is it true? Maybe we could have a tour,” the Thief mocked the young missing criminal.

“And now where do you suppose he is? Dancing with your sculptures or fingering through your books?”

The Thief pouted and glanced back at you, “He wouldn’t dare finger my things.”

“Didn’t you see him eye the silverware?”

“I did but that’s such petty thievery.”

“I have a feeling he’s not a thinker and just a looter.”

“Looters are just hoarders,” the Thief scoffed. “Mi alma, there is nothing I detest more than someone without any taste. You go off to the art wing and I’ll go to the library.”

“Isn’t the fun of tonight is to see if they can actually steal anything?”

“The rest of them can try. They’re real thieves after all. But a looter.” The thief shook his head, “He’ll finger everything he can. And I’m the only one who’s allowed to do that here.”

You let out a little giggle as the Thief came to an abrupt stop, spinning towards you.

“You know what to do if you find him,” the Thief lifted your chin up to his dark amber eyes. You nodded to him, smirking at the fun night that was ahead. “Perfect, stay hidden, stay safe. I’ll find you later.” With a kiss to your forehead, he was off, walking towards the library.

Letting out a sigh, you watched the man briskly walk off. Many times you were left wandering the halls of this mansion, wondering if this Thief knew the effect he had on you. Even if you were hosting guests tonight, your walk in the halls felt like many other nights; your mind running with an onslaught of what-if and maybe-so. You loved this job, it wasn’t like anything else you’ve experienced before. But that was mostly due to the relationship you had with your Thief. 

He was certainly a tease, and he damn well knew it. And damn you, you loved it, especially when you gave it right back to him. The two of you danced around each other all the time. You both got along famously; he would bring you lunch as you worked away and he would sometimes leisure his time away in your office. The Thief spoiled you in clothes and jewelry. He ravished paintings to decorate your office and books to decorate your mind. Often he would whisk you away to trips abroad with him, hang onto your every word as well as deplore you to settle down for an evening with him next to a fire. But every night, without fail, he would bid you goodnight, leaving you wanting more but never understanding if you should go for it. And now was no different. You longed to run after him, tackling him with your own kiss. But the Thief disappeared into the dark hall, you then went your own way.

It’s Only Thieves Catching Thieves…

To catch a thief could be a hard task for some. But to catch a thief stealing from a thief was simply a grand game. It didn’t happen often, but tonight was a different kind of night. Once a year, the world’s greatest thieves would come to discuss and converse schemes and plans, trade stories, and give tips. Or at least they were supposed to, every year one or more would try their luck to grab a treasure or two. The Thief was always happy to host and to boast. No one was ever able to steal from him, never one successful soul. The Thief thrived from his art, but he always wanted to see his compatriots thrive as well, see how they fared, and how they failed, leaving him to be the world's greatest thief.

Your helping hand would play a part in this. Like past years there was always someone prowling around, and tonight the youngest thief was delving into the art wing of the mansion. Behind the peephole walls, you watched as the young man browsed the art as if he were window shopping. He had not a care in the world to whom the trove of off limits artwork belonged to. That aggravated you, even though by retrospect the art wasn’t technically owned by the thief, but you still guarded the art and everything else in your home just as a dragon to its hoard.

The young thief wound his way through the gallery and you followed him behind the false walls. Soon he found himself in the jewelry section of the wing, and from the looks of it, the young man was on track to where the thief predicted at least one greedy guest would find themselves. As if by command or by fate, the thief eyed one of the most expensive and legendary pieces in the display. The Romanov family of Russia were long gone but they’re jewels sat in the Kremlin as well as in the delicate display in the Thief’s mansion. Here in front of the man was a marble statue covered in the jewels; a sapphire and diamond diadem, a sapphire bracelet, and an emerald necklace. You watched from right behind the marble statue through a one way mirror, your hand gently holding a round knob, turning it slowly as the thief raised his hands. Another statue, just behind the thief, rotated in his direction. The sound of stone on stone echoed through the hall, causing the thief to stop and turn to look for any potential visitors. When he saw no one, and didn’t even see the moved statue, he continued his pursuit in investigating the family jewels.

Your hand moved to the next knob, turning it and thus turning another statue to watch the thief and his pursuit of thrift. Again the man stopped in his tracks and looked around but then quickly went back to work. He slowly lifted the diadem from the statue's head, giving you enough time to turn two more knobs, moving two more statues to view the man of crime. The young thief jumped as the sound of stone moving echoed to him, dropping the diadem back onto the statue just to turn around and freeze under the direct stare of four other statues. You watched as his head snapped from statue to statue, cursing his senses, which gave you an opportunity to make your appearance. Quietly, as the young thief brain ran in circles, you pushed the mirror open and then swiveled it shut behind you. You waited patiently for the thief to come to his senses before he finally turned back around to you, nearly jumping out of his skin as he was surprised to see you. Sweetly you asked if you could escort the man back to his room, to which he instantly nodded his approval. With a quick move to adjust the diadem back in place, you whisked the young thief out of the art wing and to his room, only giving him one small warning of potentially heading to bed sooner than later. The door to his room shut before you finished your sentence, which made you smile. One job done, but the night was young and there were more thieves waiting in the shadows including your own.

There’s Always A First Time For Everything…

Your own Thief had caught one of the older gentleman thieves perusing the library, placing his hands on the first draft of Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. A sting attached to the book, sprang when pulled, gave the poor man a fright when all the lights in the room flickered on and off, allowing your Thief to place himself in a chair near the fireplace. The old man almost threw the book across the room when the Thief told him that his home was not a public library. 

The rest of the night was quite the same. The Thief predicted the movements and goals of his fellow heisters extremely well. The night was long already, but you enjoyed it with your Thief. Running around the secret passages of the mansion. The two of you watched as one by one the guests made their way to various parts of the home. But one by one they fell into each one of the Thief’s traps. The aristocratic thief tried to pilfer the Florentine Diamond, but was struck down when a yellow powder came off of the diamond and stuck to her hands, clothes, and everything she touched. Another thief with a long beard placed his hands on the frame of Raphael’s Portrait of a Young Man, but was zapped in his hands, leaving him with a numbing sensation. The elegant thief even tried to dismantle the lock off of Blackbeard’s centuries old treasure chest. You and the Thief both stood dumbfounded that she had a crowbar in hand for the all too obvious theft. 

Even between all the running around and corralling, you could see the smile wide and vibrant on the Thief’s face. Often the two of you would pass each other in the back passageways of the home, the Thief squeezing your hand with each pass or grabbing you around your waist and twirling you around, your giggles brightening his smile. There were a few times he snuck up on you, rubbing your shoulders as you watched patiently to see who would steal what. Sometimes he would whisper praises or funny quips into your ears, brushing your hair behind your ear and leaving you with a kiss on your neck. You shivered with every touch and not only did you keep an eye out for snoops but for your Thief as well. 

The night was for catching thieves, and you had been doing that well, but it got you thinking. What would you steal? If you had the cunning or the speed, even the desire or the talk to take whatever you wanted, what treasure would you make your own?

You were always fond of the written word, even poetry. Maybe the lyrics of the Greek poetess Sappho would satisfy you. Or you could take an oddity like Michelangelo's Mask of a Faun. Surely that would be so weird the Thief would never think you would take it. Perhaps the Scepter of Dagobert could be yours, everyone needed a piece of some country’s crown jewels, even if it was France’s. You walked through the halls, alone to your footsteps as you gazed from painting to painting, when suddenly you stopped and bit down a smile that slowly formed on your face. You knew, yes you knew exactly what you would steal.

Your heart raced as you dashed through the halls of the mansion, taking the nearest passage behind a bookcase as a shortcut. The night would be ending soon and you had no time to spare.

Including A Dinner For Two…

“These dinner parties are always such a joy,” the elderly thief said as your Thief guided her to her room after she took a nap in the parlor. The Thief held her hand and smirked down at her hunched over form and her tiny gray wool slippered feet shuffling on the floor. He was worried the least about this one. But what he was worried about now was your whereabouts. He hadn’t seen you in awhile and his senses were telling him to go find you, as soon as he dropped off his dear elderly friend at her room.

“Well you always bring joy to the parties, don’t you know.”

The elderly thief laughed and patted his arm, “Always charming, even when you don’t need to be.”

“You never know who might be listening,” the Thief glanced around the halls for any sign of you. 

“Isn’t that true, well here I am. You go on now and I’ll see you in the morning for brunch.”

The Thief smiled as he watched the elderly thief walk into her room and shut the door. He knew that was the last he would have to deal with her. Sharply he turned and moved to where he last saw you. He looked all over the library, then the art wing, through the dining hall, in the games room, and back to your office. You were nowhere to be found, which worried him incredibly. Striding through the halls with a cress in his brow, he finally came to a halt when he saw a painting swinging off the wall. He sighed and hoped that he wouldn’t find you inside the one place he had always warned people to never steal from. Truthfully he was really hurt that you may have gone against the only rule he was actually hard on. His last assistant paid the consequences for stealing, he had high hopes you were different. Glancing inside, half expecting to find a small fire ignited, he let out a long breath to find nothing. No fire, no ash. But suspiciously he found one spot in his wine collection missing. Clicking the painting closed, the Thief smirked down the hall, knowing full well where you liked to dine the most.

There was a small potted garden you kept on the southern balcony of the third floor. The walls were decorated with the remains of the walls of the Amber Room of Prussia. Panels of glittering amber and gold leaf decorated the walls of the far room, shining down golden rays onto your plants. You said that when you sat on the balcony at night you could feel the grace of the moon and the sun at the same time.

Sure enough, that’s where the Thief found you. Basking in the glow of both the moon and amber, you sat with two plates of delicious smelling food and wine in front of you. 

“I thought out of everyone, you would be the least likely to be the fool,” the Thief announced as he entered the room. You smiled at him and jumped from your seat.

“Are you saying I’m a fool for trying to treat you after a long night of running around? I think you're the fool in this situation!”

The Thief chuckled and stepped closer as he took in the plated food. Plated up was a charred vegetable ragù and a beautifully sinful chocolate snack cake, both baked with red wine from his collection. You had made these creations for him before, and he nearly ate every serving of food available. He was already salivating at the meal.

“It’s not stealing if you give it right back as a gift in the form of a delicious meal, mi alma.” the Thief smiled and kissed your hand.

“I know. I don’t have the heart to steal, but just go along with it for my sake?” you begged as you motioned for him to take a seat, taking your own opposite of him.

The Thief lifted up a single edge of his mouth in a smile and just quietly stared at you.

“What?” you questioned as you squirmed under his gaze.

His smile softened as he leaned in and took your hand again, “You say you have no heart to steal yet you’ve stolen my heart time and time again.”

You paused and studied the Thief’s face. He was no liar, at least not to you. His eyes swam over you as his thumb ran up and down your hand. You looked away and sucked in a breath, “You never tried to steal mine?”

“Just waiting for you to make the first move.”

“Lucas,” the Thief hummed in delight as you said his name, “you’re a very patient man.”

“Years of practice, mi alma.”

His hand grabbed yours again as he stood and pulled you up and forward as his fingers dug into your hair and held you to him, locking your lips to his. You sucked air in through your nose as his tongue sought entry and danced with yours. His plush lips moved and sucked yours as his arm moved behind you and around your waist. You moaned and leaned into him, basking now in his adoring affection. Alone together in the silent night, he was yours and only yours. Slowly he pulled away, giving you one quick yet smoldering peck to your upper lip as he looked down at you. A look of pure and intense astonishment graced his face, one you were sure mirrored your own.

He opened his mouth to speak when suddenly his face changed to one of annoyance. The Thief looked away from you, towards the hall.

“I‘ve suddenly got a bad feeling.”

“What about?” you questioned as you sang a quick prayer in your head that it wasn’t about you.

“Someone has left their room,” he sighed.

Your head dropped to hit his chest, “Again?”

“We’ll make this quick, mi alma, I promise.”

You nodded and followed him hand in hand to where his intuition led him.

Silent and left alone, the painting that the Thief had closed just earlier was open again. A small crackle could be heard as well as a small bellow of smoke could be seen coming out of the opening. Once inside, you and your Thief were met with a fire and a pair of tiny gray wool slippers. A pair that the Thief remembered seeing the elderly thief wear.

“And she was always so nice,” the Thief mumbled.

“What?” you questioned him as you looked from him to the fire.

“Nothing, just someone lost their slippers I suppose.”

“The slippers are what you’re concerned about? Not the fire?”

The Thief chuckled and smiled down at you, “Nope, I knew it would happen.” He led you back out of the room, closing the painting behind him. “You know tonight may have been your first step into thievering but tomorrow I say we set off to Europe, have ourselves a road trip of burglary and piracy. We’ll take a look at some museums, visit some history, meet new people…”

“Are you really not going to put that fire out?” you pinched his side.

“It puts itself out,” he stated as he waved his hand.

Burying into his chest, “You say that so casually, like it’s normal.”

“You’ll understand soon,” he smiled into your hair. “Now about this road trip…”

#The Thief #Casillero del Diablo #the thief x reader #the thief x you #thethief/you #Thethief/reader #pedro pascal

[acourtofsnakes]

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Collection of Pedro fics that aren't Din. A lot of thee will have 18+ themes, so please don't interact if you're a minor.

Loving You Is A Losing Game - Javier Pena x Reader Masterlist

Emergency Rooms and Ice Cream

More Than Diamonds or Gold Masterlist

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the thief #casillero de diablo #the thief x reader #javier peña #javier peña x reader #narcos #marcus pike #marcuspike x reader #masterlist

[free-for-all-fics]

Detective Tim Rockford and The Thief Crossover AU Prompt! I don’t have any idea how to describe this. It’s sort of inspired by Nancy Drew and The Silent Spy, Dante’s Inferno, and Final Destination. It gets weird. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of these ideas and I’d love to read it! 🕵️‍♂️💎⚰️

Your past was shrouded deep in mystery. You later met and started dating Detective Tim Rockford but even he couldn’t find much on you. Your records were very minimal and bare bones, only listing the most basic of background information. He’d question you during the course of your relationship but you’d only tell him small details here and there about your family, your childhood, schooling, etc. Maybe you didn’t have any living family or you just didn’t know that much about your own history. In his line of work he’d met many people in similar situations, so he didn’t think that much about it. He trusted you, so he never dug that deep.

He was fascinated with a particular string of jewel thefts and spent many years trying to pin down this elusive and unidentified thief. When you became engaged, he showed you his research and told you his theories. Unbeknownst to him, you were one of the thieves he was so desperate to unmask. He’d never suspect anything whenever you’d randomly get out of bed to disappear into the night or were gone for days at a time. His career also required him to be on-call and leave on short notice, and he’d often stay for overnight shifts to get paperwork done and wouldn’t be home until the wee hours of the morning. More often than not, Tim was away from home which allowed you to slip away easily. He figured your job just had similar demands, and he wasn’t entirely wrong on that. On the rare occasion Tim was home when you had to leave for a heist, you’d just tell him it was “for work” and that you’d be home as soon as you could. You’d kiss him goodbye, he’d tell you to be safe and have a good day, and that was that.

When you married Tim, you sent The Thief an invitation using a sophisticated encryption device so that his location couldn’t be traced and compromised. Although he received your invite, The Thief didn’t attend your wedding. He was still in love with you, even if you ended your romantic relationship with him years ago or his feelings for you were unrequited. He couldn’t bear to watch you marry another man. He instead left you an anonymous wedding gift.

Years went by and you had a child with Tim. When you got pregnant, you decided to finally retire. You’d settled in and grown accustomed to ordinary civilian life as Tim’s wife. You had a regular day job you enjoyed and moved on as best as you could, devoting yourself to raising your child with your loving and doting husband. You were a clever woman who loved your family very much, so you spent your free time making and hiding puzzles around the house for your husband to find and solve. When your child was old enough, you’d hoped to make puzzles for them too. You knew Tim’s job could get dangerous and he was often home late, but you were used to it. Married life wasn’t that different from when you were dating and living together. You still saved dinner for him in the fridge and patched him up in the bathroom or kitchen. You never regretted your decision to call it quits with the heists, though you missed The Thief. You still kept in contact, but stopped meeting him in person ever since you learned you were pregnant. As long as you were happy, he’d try to stay away and let you get on with your new life. Key word: Try.

Despite your retirement, your former heist partner (and possibly ex-lover) periodically called you on untraceable phone lines and tried to get you back in the game. For 10 years he was persistent but his efforts were to no avail. Whenever he called you about a new target he found, you had a feeling deep in your gut he was trying to entice you into joining him because he missed you too and was still in love with you. Maybe he thought that if he tempted you with adventure and roused your curiosity enough, you’d come back to him. He knew you’d never divorce Tim or leave your child, but he hid his sadness and disappointment well whenever you rejected his offers of teaming up for a heist again. To an untrained ear, the desperation and longing for you in his voice would’ve gone undetected. But you’ve known him for many years and can read his mannerisms, tone of voice, etc. You understand him better than anyone.

But one day, The Thief finally convinces you to join him on a high risks, high rewards heist. To do this, he lies to you about having round-the-clock protection. You’re firm with him in that this is your last heist. No room for negotiation. You spend many days staking out the place, plotting over maps, testing out listening devices and other tech, etc. It’s the most stressful heist you’ve ever been on, but you’re able to complete it and leave the premises with the valuables in hand. However, despite your success, you’re targeted in a counterattack to apprehend The Thief. You and he are caught in a trap; you get shot or seriously injured in a rigged car accident, and The Thief is barely able to pull you both out and get you to safety. He uses his skills and quick thinking to lose the people tailing you during a high speed car chase and drives you to one of your secret hideouts. You’re safe here and can lay low for a while. But despite your escape, you’re in bad shape - Very bad shape.

A hospital isn’t an option, so The Thief uses any clean cloths he has to try to put pressure on your wounds and/or to operate on you and remove the bullet himself. His expensive clothing may get stained by your blood and ruined forever, but fuck it. He doesn’t give a damn if he has to throw away these priceless suit jackets he’s worked so hard to steal. He can steal again and replace them. He can’t replace you. You’re bleeding badly and he does everything he can to save you, but you know it’s futile. You’re dying. Even though you’re married and he knows he shouldn’t, he still loves you more than anyone in the world. So he calls Tim for you and does something he’s never ever done - he tells your husband, a specialized law enforcement professional, his location. He tells Tim to get here as soon as possible and that he’ll keep you stable until his arrival.

Tim speaks to you, his beloved wife, for the last time on your deathbed. In your final moments, you introduce him to The Thief and reveal that you and he were the thieves Tim had sought after for over 20 years. You ask for his forgiveness for keeping it from him; you would’ve told him but just couldn’t. It was too risky and there was too much at stake. When you breathe your last, your best friends and men you love the most are by your side. They hold you in their arms together as they mourn and cry over your body. Tim has spent so much of his career trying to catch these infamous thieves, but now he can’t do it. He can’t betray you in that way by exposing you or turning in your partner and best friend. After watching the way The Thief behaved towards you in your final hours together, Tim knows that the other man loved you just as much as he did.

But Tim is frozen in shock when The Thief unexpectedly pulls out an ornate knife or uses a sleight of hand trick to steal his gun. The Thief tells Tim that you and he made a pact in case either of you ever got caught or something like this were to happen. In the event that one of you ever got captured or died during a heist, you made a contingency plan. There’s enough food, water, and other resources in this secret hideout to last Tim for months. The Thief tells your husband that he should probably call someone to watch over his and your child for the foreseeable future - This could take a while and he’s not sure how long he’ll be. He orders Tim to watch over his and your bodies until he gets back. Everything happens so quickly; Tim isn’t able to process what he’s said or react fast enough before The Thief either shoots himself or slits his throat.

In life, he was the greatest thief who ever lived. But, as tends to happen, now he’s the greatest thief who ever died. But he did this for a purpose: He’s set his sights on stealing from Death itself - The Ultimate Heist. Once he pulls this off, maybe he’ll finally retire. No theft can ever come close to topping this! He’s going to get you back - Not for himself or his own selfish desires, but for your family’s sake. Tim and your child is the only family you’ve ever known. You’ve worked hard for your happiness and were so proud of the family you built. Your child is but 10 years old, too young to grow up without their mother. And your husband needs you just as much as The Thief does. He’ll do anything to bring you back to the land of the living. He’ll defy and challenge Death, and even sell his soul for yours if he has to.

Tell the story of The Thief’s journey as he traverses the unknown and fights to bring you back to your family. Is he in Purgatory? The Underworld? Heaven? Hell? What and/or who does he see and encounter on his way to finding you? From here, It’s all up to you.

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #Pedro pascal character fanfic #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford #the thief x reader #the thief #casillero del diablo #merge mansion #crossover fic #crossover #unrequited love #fic prompt #fic ideas #random prompt #random fic ideas #pls tag me if you write this #i’d love to read it

[oonajaeadira]

WINKTOBER DAY 26: Wax Play (The Thief)

This is just a silly little thing.

He moves a fan of photographs around the table like a deck of cards, choosing a few favorites, then rethinking, swapping a few out, not sure if he only wants one, or three, or a whole army and finally asks, ”What do you think, Angel, child’s play, whatever you want.”

“David Bowie–no, oh Frida Khalo or…we could have Nick Cage, oh my god we could dress him up like Cher before he goes back.”

He chuckles, incredulous, “If I’m doing this, I’m not taking them back, they’re for us.”

“In that case,” you say, selecting a photo from the pile, “if you’re going to do this, you go for the rarest and yet, the one that holds the most proof….”

He smiles, kisses you, joins you in announcing the choice.

“...Madame Tussaud herself.”

—

WINKTOBER 2022 MASTERLIST

#winktober #six sentence ficlets #casillero del diablo fanfic #the thief #the thief x reader #the thief x f!reader