#henry v x y/n
Text
The Battle of Agincourt (Henry V/fem! Reader Oneshot)
Word Count: 7K
Summary: As his wife and queen, you follow your husband, Henry the Fifth to France for his battles. It is the morning of the battle of Agincourt, and you don't know if he will make it out alive. You spend one last moment of passion together.
Warnings: NSFW 18+ SMUT! SMUT! (We get TWO smut scenes in one onshot! P in V sex, missionary, doggy style, edging, medieval dirty talk, praise, slight degradation and edging breast play, degradation, bits of power play, doing the deed standing up-legit one of the filthiest things I've written in a long time!). Mentions of war and brief mention of sexual assault and death. Lots of angst, but also some fluff.
A/N: Based off of a dream I had. Enjoy!
Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract (you can just skip the wedding night and barn scene and you will be good, bestie) @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @infinitystoner@littlespaceyelf@superficialdomina @evelyn-kingsley @muddyorbsblr
You never forgot the day you were introduced to the man you loved.
You were sent there to the castle. An alliance between your father and the new king of England was being considered. Nothing confirmed, you were told by your father. Only consideration.
“He is a single man. And young. He needs more for his army, his lands…and that is secured with a marriage,” he told you.
The one key to sealing it.
You.
A marriage between you and this king. Many men in his army sealed with one woman being brought to his bed. And it might be you.
You had heard he was a wild boy, Harry Monmouth, Prince Hal. But everyone assured you that he had somehow matured. No sooner than his father died but he had been far calmer, more responsible. He spent his hours studying rather than drinking.
But you were still nervous. When the day arrived for this alliance to be discussed, your father asked you to dress in your best. Looking in the mirror as you squeezed your mother’s hand, you wondered; am I good enough for a king’s glance? Perhaps if you had more jewels and walked in with the richest silks like a shining diamond, then he would take note. Still, bedecked in your finery, you headed off and were greeted at the castle. You were stopped, awaiting the signal.
“If the king decides he would like to meet you…then be ready,” he warned.
It might not happen at all, you wondered.
You did hear voices outside the thick door. Seeping through. No doubt there would be advisors and other lords to talk to the king. But there was one voice-he sounded young, indeed. He had a resonant, powerful voice- rich and commanding. But smooth too. The sort to command a legion but could also whisper gentle words to his lover.
As you stood, wondering how long you both could wait, the door opened, and you jumped.
“His Majesty, King Henry the Fifth, would like to meet you,” the servant announced.
Just for consideration. Nothing permanent. Not yet, you thought. You were grateful your dresses were long. They would hide your shaking legs. You nodded, remembering basic etiquette as you gripped your father’s arm.
The door opened and you both walked inside, your steps echoing throughout the stone castle. You took in your surroundings despite the air in your lungs almost stopping. The high windows with the orange sunlight. The long candles for light. The weaving of Saint George on the back wall. A wooden throne with tall, stone steps. There, you saw your father. A few lords in the back-old men with scarves for hats and long cloaks.
And in the center of it, turning towards you, was a young man. A young man with a crown- Henry the Fifth. The young king.
Extremely handsome. A head full of his auburn curls, his small, neat beard. His blue eyes were soft when he looked at you and a red leather doublet framed his lean body well. There were chairs about and you were led to sit in a chair some distance away.
Your father and the king began to talk. Keeping an appropriate distance. But you couldn’t help but admire the handsome, young king. If he were just an ordinary man going down the street, you would have indulged in ogling him. But you could not, you felt yourself get warm as you kept your eyes demurely on the floor when he caught you watching. Their voices became murmurs. Then the king turned to you.
“You are the Lady Y/N…” he began.
He gestured to you to rise from your chair, you gave him a curtsy.
“I am, your grace,” you replied.
He walked up closer. You could hear his footsteps. You made your own breath slower. You could feel yourself sweat like it was July in Italy. You forced your eyes down, feeling your shaking going to your hands.
“You need not be shy, my lady,” he said.
You then looked up. Eyes onto him.
“Could you take two steps closer, my lady?” he asked.
You did. He walked around you in a circle, seeing all of you. You let him, though your heart was roaring in your ears. Feeling his eyes all over his potential bride- you. Once he stepped out, completing his circle, your eyes met his. Perhaps that was bold, considering his position- your lord and sovereign of your country. But nothing in him deterred.
“Are you well?” he asked.
“Very well, your grace.” You replied.
Henry turned to your father, looking at him, but only taking a step back.
“Sir…you have not offered me some mortal woman…” he began.
You folded your hands and did your best to mask your dread. Oh no, was he about to Call you something bad? How would you endure the humiliation of being not only rejected but insulted by the king of England mere minutes of meeting him!? You would have to spend your life under a rock in the woods to save your dignity. You looked up to him with big eyes and felt your body brace itself. To hold in the tears and anger of such a moment with as much false calm as you could. Awaiting the blow of the king's insult.
But no blow arrived.
Henry then smiled, eyes turning between you and your father.
“Here before me is an angel from heaven! A woman too lovely for us mere men!” King Henry the Fifth announced.
One did not recover from such a statement quickly. "Shock" was not quite the word fitting for how you felt. No, it was this. Utter and pure delighted surprise. Your breath quickened. You felt a smile grow on you. Your heart picked up again as he walked closer to you.
“Thank you, your grace…do you fear blasphemy from such words?” you asked.
“Not if it is the truth, just as scripture is,” he added with a wink.
Your mind went blank at his wink, his smile. Hot and your mind spinning. Your mouth kept running from the excitement. But still polite.
“You are generous, your grace.”
He went up to you.
“Could you…call me Henry? Or Harry? Hal, even?”
“I could…Henry,” you replied.
You watched Henry turn to your father and shake his hand. The alliance went through. With a flourish, he signed the treaty and the agreement to marry you.
“Ah, my lucky little girl…now about to be queen of England!” your father would say later, kissing your cheek.
Henry (for now he was more than just the king, but your intended!) would often invite you to visit. Giving you tours of every room and corner of the castle.
“After all, it’s going to be your home!” he would claim.
Or, to the most shock of anyone, he would visit your home himself to see you. Fine dinners would be served, and he would sit by you as you sewed, smiling like a schoolboy just to be beside you.
A chaperone was always present, but quiet in the back. A smiling shadow upon you two. Henry wrote you numerous letters and you wrote back to him when he was away. It was easier to like him the more he spent time with you. If not, be infatuated with him. Maybe even love him as the months to the wedding passed. He showered you with gifts and lovers’ tokens. Little ribbons and pieces of jewelry and belts and scraps of paper with love poetry.
The first time he held your hand, you thought you saw him tremble a little. His thumb went over the skin of yours. He was very soft- not pressing or squeezing your own. You felt as if you could float.
The first time he kissed you was the day before the wedding. You were both walking in the gardens. With the sun gentle and the flowers in bloom, it was just like a dream. Your chaperone was in the back, her arms folded before her. Then Henry stopped his steps and turned to you.
“Could I kiss you…on the lips, Y/N?” he asked, his eyes hopeful like a puppy.
You didn’t have the heart to say no. How fortunate that you wanted to. You felt yourself swallow hard and then nod your head.
“Yes,” you answered.
He tipped your chin to meet him and kissed you. It was gentle. Chaste, even. You felt his soft lips and nothing else. But it was…loving. Your knees wobbled again. You felt the breath from his nose. He was so close. So, so close. He felt…good. He let go, the lips clicking as they retracted. Both of your eyes were still closed. When you opened, he relaxed and let out a smile. You opened your mouth a little but had no words.
“Your kiss has a power to it, Y/N,” he whispered.
“I will use them with caution, then,” you replied teasingly.
You then returned to wrapping an arm around his and continuing walking. Both you and your chaperone shared a look, giving an appreciative nod. Something was growing inside you for him. Something…more.
You couldn’t deny that Henry was the most handsome man you had ever lain eyes on. His broad back and his slender waist. His winning smile, large, gentle hands, cheekbones, tall height, soft blue eyes- all beautiful.
And desirable.
He was lean and strong-what did he look like beneath his leather and velvet? If you were honest with yourself, you couldn’t wait for your wedding…and your wedding night. You often indulged in secret glances at his codpiece and his behind whenever he turned around-his pants flattered him. And both sides were something to see. The beautiful curls- a mix of red and blonde that he combed back. You wondered what it would be like to touch. Even pull! That was from what you learned from others of what happened between a husband and wife before the big day. Henry’s beard made him look mature and dignified. Not some pranking, whooping boy- a man. A man who knew how to take care of a woman in bed.
Even among your tours of the castle, he never took you to your private chambers. But whenever you passed by the hall with those large, wooden doors right at the end of a small passageway, you couldn’t help but grin.
Already tingly and titillated at the thought of the night, you kept your smile when they dressed you on your wedding day. It was joyous. Your gown was made with the finest while silk with little pearl embellishments and a jeweled belt. No one would doubt you were Queen of England already. Your father led you out. When you were placed on Henry’s left at the door of the chapel, you could see his smile on you- already bedecked in red with his crown. The ceremony felt far too long. But you held yourself together like a giddy child on a festival. The mass and prayers came and went. Henry made his vows before an altar as did you. Then the priest made the sign of the cross over you two.
It was done. You were married to him now. The second the priest let his hand down, bells all over the city- no, not just the city, England itself it-chimed out. Flower petals were tossed your way as you both walked out through the city, presented to the people as a couple.
There were enough guests that it seemed like half the world’s population was there at the feast. Your friends and family, those you loved dearly, were invited. A thankful distraction from your growing physical desire for your husband (to think! Henry was now your husband!!). They embraced you and wished “Y/N, oh much congrats!” to you. You never felt such beaming love from everyone you cared for as that day. You hugged and chatted and celebrated with the people you loved. Henry smiled at you and kissed your hand with such tenderness your heart could burst. The feast tasted sweet, and the music played even sweeter.
The room became darker, and servants lit more candles. Guests were leaving. It was announced that there would be a bedding ceremony. It was finally time, you thought with trepidation. Musicians played songs as the party led you to Henry’s chambers through those stone halls. Henry was adorably nervous. You saw his hands twitch and when you brushed close to him. Oh, no doubt you were nervous too. Any rational person in your situation would be nervous. You considered yourself such. But you were also…excited. Ready.
You entered the bedroom. It was large. Fitting for the king. Once it was your father-in-law’s room- the late Henry the Fourth. Now it was your husband’s. It was full of lit candles with tall stained-glass windows, and a white stone floor with black squares. A large bed with a dark canopy full of gold-colored fleur-de-lys patterns, cream pillows, and thick, dark blankets.
Servants undressed you from that beautiful wedding dress. They undressed Henry too until both of you were in your shifts. You couldn’t help but notice how the collar peeked at a beautiful, broad chest-just open enough to see a peek. It seemed as beautiful as you imagined. It made more shivers of desire run through you. You were given a cup of spiced wine that you both sipped from. It felt as sacred as a Eucharist- he looked at you as you drank and as he drank. An offering of something shared-how now you would be joined as one. The bed was now an altar and lovemaking a rite.
After the bishop blessed the bed, Henry dismissed every courtier. He thanked them for celebrating with him but insisted on privacy. They bowed and left. For the first time, you both were truly alone. He then turned to you.
“How are you, your Highness?” he asked, noting your new title, he took your hands, running a thumb over them.
“It was a long day…but a happy one. I’m a little tired…. but I’m well…,” you answered.
“I’m glad you are, Y/N…” he replied.
Smiling at him, You cupped his cheek and moved his arms to embrace you. He blinked in slight surprise.
“You can hold me…husband,” you said, relishing the taste of the word.
The most you did throughout your betrothal was hold hands. But he obliged and put his long arms around you. He smelled of wine and a bit of incense from the ceremony at the church. With his thumb, he gently traced your face.
“If Satan himself would look at you, he would weep and confess for forgiveness at once…Y/N, Can I kiss you?” he asked.
“Yes- please kiss me,” you replied.
Then he kissed you. But you kept him there. Pressed against you. God’s blood, that beautiful man right near you, against you, on you- feeling his warmth, his body on yours. You wanted more. You then grabbed him and kept kissing him again and again. He felt so warm and soft…except for one part of him you could feel against you. And no codpiece to cover for it. You bit back a giggle at the new feeling, knowing that he really felt the same despite his wide eyes and blushing cheeks. And your body replied in turn. It was as if lightning was coursing through you. It made you wetter than the sea. Preparing yourself for him.
Oh, and you were more than ready. And this was a perfect time for it. You grabbed onto him. Then began to lead him to the bed with a smile, walking up two little elevated steps that led to the bed strewn with flowers and ribbons for this night. For this moment. For this act. Then right before the bed, your fingers went to the strings of your shift on the collar that held it together-the only layer over you.
Henry’s jaw dropped a little, looking down and then back up to your face. Even if you saw an outline of his desire through his shift, his eyes grew wide.
“Y/N …are you…sure?” he asked.
You undid the tie, showing the valley of your cleavage. You felt his eyes flutter down then forced back up at yours.
“Henry…I want you to take me. Make love to me- make love to your wife tonight!” you insisted quietly.
“I did not wish to…to push you to…to…uh, consummate the marriage before you...you wanted to…” he replied meekly.
The most powerful man in the world and here he was at a loss of words. To think this was once the tavern boy caught with prostitutes!
“I’ve never been more sure of anything, Henry…I want you…take me on your bed…you are my king….rule me and have me here then….” You whispered.
You led his hands to push the rest of your shift off. Leaving you bare before him. His eyes finally drank all of you in.
That was enough to persuade him.
He pushed you down and was on top of you. Like an animal released from his cage, his kisses had a little more fire to them. His hands began to roam greedily over your body. Down your chest, feeling one of your breasts as he kissed you. Then down your stomach, over your hip bones- feeling each bit of you. He began to pant heavily, his eyes full of eager joy and a playful lust in his smile.
Then you helped to take off his shift. You nearly forgot to breathe at the sight of Henry’s naked body. His strong abdominals and arms. His large chest with a few black hairs. Of course, his own cock was so hard and large you bit back the urge to gasp at the sight of it. You laid down on the bed, smiling at him.
“Please, Henry…I ache for you…” you urged. Splaying your body before him on his bed. Feeling like a siren. Only he was no hesitant prey.
He pulled himself over you, taking one hand of his to position your legs to open, shifting his weight on top of you.
“I always wondered what this night would be like…what it would be like the moment I saw you…” he whispered.
He looked at you, cupping your cheek. Seeking permission as he settled himself, his tip just at your entrance’s beginning.
“Henry…I’m ready…” you urged him.
Not wanting to keep you waiting any longer. Not able for himself to wait any longer. He then positioned himself. Slowly, he entered you. Inch by agonizing inch. You writhed beneath him, moaning as he got inside.
“Oh! Oh-oh God!” you cried. He was big. You could feel him creeping in deep, almost like your stomach could be penetrated from his largeness. You clung onto the sheets tight, and his own hand went over yours.
He himself let out a grunt when he finally shifted all his cock inside you. There was a little pain, but it fizzled out. You were full-and it was heavenly You held onto him. He pulled his hips back and began to slowly enter you again and again. You groaned with each delicious thrust of his.
“Yes…nrgh-my wife-you-gods-my wife-my sweet wife-“he whispered with each snap.
You opened your arms as well as your legs, holding onto him. He repeated your name again. Kissing you tenderly on the side of your head when he could. A mess of groans and kisses and praise was all the king could say. His arms stretching around to keep you in his embrace.
Then he used one hand and lifted your legs up to a new position- a little deeper. Your knees went up. You let out little cries with each slow, sloppy movement. Each welcome intrusion of him to your insides. You had never known pleasure as much as this.
“Yes…oh gods…Henry…Henry I…oh!” you breathed out.
Your head lay on those cream pillows. Soft as clouds. With the dark bed canopy and the roaring fire, the rain outside pattering the windows, there was never a lovelier, more peaceful night. His curls fell before his face. He kept at it- thrust, thrust, thrust. His shallow breathing above you, and the moans that escaped you that were far from maiden modesty.
He held you. He gave you an open kiss as he thrust forward for one. He began to mutter more.
“Yes…nrgh- yes, -my little queen…doing so well…”
More little noises came out of you. And you heard his voice get only a little higher in pitch. And yet he continued, only barely picking up the pace. You wrapped your hands to him and ran one through the curls on his head- how soft they felt, like little auburn feathers. How soft the bed was-a feathered mattress against your bare skin as it slide back and forth slowly against it with each snap of his kingly hips. Henry slowed one thrust but would give you a little kiss- your cheek, the side of your face.
“God’s blood-my wife-nrg-sweet wife-oh-yes-taking-taking me…”
He kept at it. Then he reached down. He found your entrance, the very beginning where your lips and walls. He talked softly in between thrusts.
“I’m…I’m close, and I think….I think you are too, my little wife- I…yes…come undone, come undone with me…”
He reached inside and you gasped from the feeling. He found your bud, his finger curling with it, stroking it with each thrust. You let out another gasp. He smiled.
“Let go wife-nrgh-let it…let it-“
He began to strum it. Then everything overwhelmed you. You were spinning higher and higher. His kisses and hands already felt your bud and with his playing. You felt yourself winding up, curling up inside. You shook so hard. You wondered if you were going to die from the overwhelm, from the rising feeling, the intensity. His thrusts picked up the pace, you felt it growing, growing, growing.
Then finally, something hit you so suddenly, so hard-your body clenching and releasing all at once you let out a loud cry as the sensation hit you like cold air.
“Ah!”
A last thrust, the king of England came undone and let out his own small shout of pleasure. Then he stopped his thrusts. He stayed inside you, letting his seed rope itself. Then he held you, held you tight as he came inside you. It seemed as if the world itself stopped.
Once it was done, he pulled out but kept close to you. Caressing your cheek. Panting hard, his broad, strong chest rising with his breaths.
“How are you?” he asked.
“I feel…I’ve never felt so good, husband,” you replied with a giggle as you pulled him forward to wrap your arms and kiss him until both fell asleep.
He did turn out to be a good husband. Always listening, gentle, and enthusiastic about his role. He listened to your own advice and always took you seriously. He was aggressively faithful, shutting down even the idea of a mistress if any lord was foolish enough to suggest it. He spent time with you. There were so many times you would hold him to your chest and hum, playing with his curls. You learned from each other and challenged each other to do better each day. Be it in a game of chess or in court. He made you feel…safe. Wanted. Loved, even. Not to mention he was a passionate lover in bed. If your one duty was to bed the king, then being queen was quite a simple task indeed. And a duty you loved to fulfill again. And again. And again. And again.
You managed your own life as queen well. adapting and figuring it out. Attending parliament by his side.
You were sitting by him when the fateful day came. It was found out he had a claim to France. And the French ambassador mocked him by giving him the gift of a box full of tennis balls. Furious at the insult, Henry declared there and then he would begin an invasion of France.
He’s going to leave. He’s going to be gone to war. And who knows how long, you thought sadly. You went to your chambers and began to sob. Then the next day, all were discussing logistics. You sat on your own throne, contemplating it all as they talked.
“Yes, my brother- John shall stay. He will lead…” Henry announced. “And by this day, we will gather the army and set sail for France.”
You couldn’t take it. You sat up at once.
“And I will go with you!” you insisted.
The men’s heads turned to you.
“What?!” cried one lord, stepping forward.
The advisors went around you.
“Your Highness…it is not safe!” advised another.
You walked forward, looking down at the table with the map on it. Then you looked at them and addressed them.
“My husband is a warrior. And when we were married, we were made one. This means I am a warrior too, in my own way. And where he goes, there I must go too- his battles are mine as well. Then I say- I will go with him!” you declared, slamming a firm hand on the table.
There was a second of silence. Then your husband took your hands.
“If we can make it safe for her, she will go with me,” he said.
You went off to France with him. You braved the rollicking ships. You both shared a little cot bed as the ship heaved back and forth at night. One night was a storm and the thunder surprised you so much in your bed, you clung to him. He only laughed a little, rubbing your back in comfort.
“It’s only the voice of God, my dove, He is on our side…and protecting you,” he assured, kissing your forehead.
It was not long before it arrived and the army began to set forth. You traveled through forests, riding your horse by your husband’s side through villages and countryside for entire days. You were a little nervous being the only woman surrounded by men. But they knew how precious a queen you were to their Harry of England, their sovereign. If any of them dared to lay a hand on you, they knew they would face a quick and bloody end on their king’s sword. So, they kept respectful, always greeting you with bows and soft voices. You would set up camp and then live in a tent rather than a palace. Some hours you would give your own counsel as you stood by him for planning the army’s next move. When there was an attack, you were put in a safe place with many guards so none would dare hurt the king’s beloved. Other times, you would volunteer with the food or help with medical needs- helping with injuries, cooling warm foreheads with cloths. You saw this fiercer side already of him. He shouted bold, encouraging speeches as they went and attacked towns.
Though you scolded him for the speech he made to the Governor of a city called Harfleur. When they arrived, to your immense shock, Henry coldly threatened his army would pillage the town, set their infants on spikes, and ravish the village women. That was enough to persuade the governor to open the gates and peacefully let them go through without one shred of violence. But his words still rang and made you see red with anger.
You met him in your tent later, and he jumped at your frown. You crossed your arms.
“Henry- you dare to have your men do these unspeakable things to women! You know better! Have you considered I am a woman as well?! And that is our worst fear!”
“I only wished to scare him. I knew it would move him, my dear. And it does happen during wars…”
“You will not let that happen! You will not let the soldiers force themselves on civilian women-or I shall never speak to you, and you won’t be allowed in my chambers either! I’ll sleep in another tent and not allow you to lay a hand on me!” You chided.
It was a threat which, like his to the governor, worked well. He never made a spoke like that again. And you forgave him.
The many ups and downs. The army was too depleted to move onto Paris so all of you went to Calais. You stopped and fled further realizing the French army was chasing everyone down. You arrived at the small town of Agincourt. The French army had now surrounded you. The Dauphin arrived one cold night. And it was decided-there would be a formal battle tomorrow.
Now here it was- a decisive battle. Only a small handful of soldiers could get a full night’s sleep and Henry himself stayed awake to talk to them. But in your tent, you tossed and turned in your makeshift bed under many blankets. You awoke and then fell again. Your worries had haunted you.
They were going to fight the Dauphin’s army. And the Dauphin’s men outnumbered Henry’s. Five French soldiers for every English.
You awoke shivering and dressed. You gathered your cloak for it was a cold day. Opening the flap of one tent, you saw him. Henry. A small distance away, kneeling in the grass. It was so early that the sky was still grey, the sun barely peeking. You could hear his prayer.
“Lord…strengthen my soldier’s hearts…I’ve made my repentance to Richard and his grave…. please strengthen them…and me…”
Five to one, your mind kept repeating to yourself. Five to one. Five to one.
You wondered at the white horse he brought with him. It was with the others chewing on grass in ignorance of what was about to happen. Why would your husband need it? It would be as if he was a target for their practice! A surefire way to signal this was the man to kill.
How fragile he seemed as he kept praying. He was human. Your husband’s mortality dawned on you. His racing heart could stop. His warm skin grow cold. And his shallow breaths of his anxious prayer would end and there would be none anymore. He dressed in a red doublet- red as the blood threatening to spill from him.
You approached him, noticing him making the sign of the cross to end the prayer. He turned his head to see you.
“How are you?” you asked.
“Only as well as I can be…” he asked.
He easily got up from the grass. Then he went over to a of his lords and guards already armored. He whispered something to them. Nodding, they turned back to camp. He then returned, his gloved hands taking yours.
“I’d…I’d like to spend some time with you…. before…before it starts,” he said.
“Of course, dear husband,” you answered with a smile.
Both of you walked into the woods. It was peaceful- you heard the leaves beneath your shoes and the birdsong. The rustling of trees and the mist as gentle as his kisses at your wedding. Disguised in your cloaks, you could have been any ordinary pair of lovers wandering in the forest. Not a king and queen of a whole nation.
“Y/N…do you see that? In the valley?” he asked, pointing at a hand.
It was a barn and An old house. The house was abandoned and burned to where the walls were only halfway stood beside it. The barn was intact. He led you inside- the wood creaking and the wind whistling through it. There wasn’t one living life around. No horses. No pigs. Not even an ant.
“We’re a distance off…are we still safe?” you asked.
“It’s alright- you know the path- find the oak tree with mushrooms and keep walking north…Y/N, I asked the guards to leave us alone for a little. I wanted to…to be with you.”
There were no animals around, much less people. Only you two. Even the sky itself seemed unreal. It was nothing but the grey light of dawn over a cloudy sky. So early, it felt cold. And it was misty and grey.
It was dark and musty in the barn. You saw a wooden bench and stables and troughs. But it was mostly hay- so much hay that there were still tall stalks around the barn.
He then turned to you and kissed you. He took you in his arms. He touched your face, and you realized a tear was rolling down your cheek.
“Y/N…I want this…if this is our last moment together…I….” he began.
He held you closer.
“Yes, Henry….”
He took a deep breath. Then kissed you again, only leaving a trail down your neck. Your heart picked up and you warmed up quickly. He then returned, cupping your face again and looking directly into your eyes, so close. So, there was only him.
“The camp is far off. They won’t disturb us. They won’t hear us. Y/N I… I…I love you….”
“I love you too,” you replied. You kissed him again. You shivered from feeling the cold. And the growing desperation on his face.
“I know this is not the most romantic place. This is not the most beautiful speech I can think of. But…I say it again because it is simple. It is true- I love you, Y/N. And should I die, I want you to know that…”
He paused. Then blinking back a couple tears, he continued.
“If…If this is the day, I’m killed…it is a prayer for you that will be my last word…I’m glad I met you. I’m glad I married you. I have so much shame, so much regret…but you- you were the best choice I made as king. To choose to marry you, love you…”
You cupped him and kissed him again. You felt him press against you. His hands went from your back to your sides. His gloves went up and began to bunch your skirt. Already, you felt yourself grow wet for him. Feeling the bit of cold air on your skin.
“The guards are away…the army is away…they’re far…my wife…please…. here…. love me one last time, lie with me here-so I can feel you-know it is like inside you, to feel your pleasure one more time…”
You grabbed onto him. Feeling his skin, his breathing in his body-his life. His fire.
“Yes…take me. Henry- use me now. I know you feel so much. Take it out. Take out everything on me…just love me…make love to me, husband. Strongly. Strongly as you feel,” you pleaded.
He gave a small smile, giving a last kiss with tongue. Tasting him. He pressed you close.
“You will?” he asked.
“I will,” you answered.
Then he pushed you roughly and you and you landed with a small laugh against a haystack. One so high it was taller than yourself. He then backed you to the haystalk in a second. His kisses on your neck had added teeth. He was leaving marks against the skin of your exposed neck.
“Do you like this, little wife?” he asked.
“I do!”
He chuckled lightly.
“Gods, you torment me. Each time you are there in my tent, every meeting you look at me and smile, I imagine you without your gown on. If could, I’d have you over that very table the second they left every meeting…”
Then, his hand turned to a grip. He grabbed onto you. You began to grind naturally against him. He gasped at the feeling but kept talking.
“Perhaps I could grab you and have you on the grass. And have every soldier who leered at you to watch. To have them watch as I take you like a beast. So, they know none of them can make you cum like I can. Until your name is all you can say on your lips. So, they all know you are mine.”
He found the blouse of your dress. Desperately, he pulled down the overdress’s shoulders. With one tug, he undid the strap of the shift beneath and pulled it down. Your breasts exposed. He cupped and kissed it. He kept a hand, pinching your nipple as he went to your ear. Then he began to make more biting kisses on your neck You embraced him- touching what you could, kissing what you could.
“Henry…I love you, I love you…” you repeated.
“I love you, and be ready, little wife. You’ve wanted fire-now you have it.”
He lowered his mouth to kiss your breasts. Then he used teeth and tongue. He bit your breasts, licked your nipples, and then used his teeth. You began to moan. It was so loud, that you were grateful not even animals could hear you now.
Then he lightly tossed you around. Then he turned you around, pushing you so that you leaned over a wooden bench that was kept there. Your hands braced onto the wood. He then lifted your skirt up to your hips, your bum exposed to him. He gave you a small smack on your behind. You let out a cry.
“I remember your chiding at Harfleur. That’s what you get, little wife, when you disobey your king. You get punishment.”
He began to undo his pants with a quick click of his belt. He began to thrust into you there- hitting this new angle. It was so obscene; you couldn’t help but give into it. Your own filthy moans and his grunts right behind you.
“There-nrgh-yes-I-I-I-take you, like-like a whore-“
You were moving along, feeling your own body shake with each fast, deep thrust. You let out shouts as he got over. The spinning feeling, coiling in your belly, rising from the delicious degradation.
“Oh…oh gods-Henry-I’m-I’m going to-to cum, I’mgoingtocumI’m-“
Then he stopped. You heard his voice behind you.
“Not yet…. you won’t release yet. I’m not done,” he announced.
He turned you around. His large hands almost ripped off your cloak, and then your dress so it pulled down. If he could rip your dress to shreds, he would. But he only roughly put it all aside. You were fully naked, and he was still clothed. He smiled and licked his lips, his curls freed from his head.
“This- seeing this again- I would fight a hundred battles to see your bare breasts and feel your sweet warmth around my cock again.”
He picked you up. You held onto him. With one hand, he pulled down his pants as you held tighter. Released, his leaking tip is already teasing your entrance. Then he backed you up against the hay. He hooked your leg up to be around him. The hay was so high and sturdy that it held you up.
“My queen among people, but my whore in this barn.”
You gasped a little as he entered you. He was fast, desperate. His thrusts wild. He even freed one hand and slapped your breasts, and you let out a cry.
“How can I not touch these breasts? You make me too hard to even think in this army. Riding my horse when I want to use you like a mare beneath me.”
“Hen-Henry-I-I-“ the words left you.
Your breasts began to bounce with his movement obscenely. He grunted more like an animal. You wrapped your arms around his still-clothed shoulders, trying to keep up.
“I love-love-nrgh-you so much-gods-yes, I love you-nrgh-you’re all I could think about-yes-do you understand-ah!- how hard -yes- it is to speak diplomacy-nrgh- with the French when your cock is raging hard seeing your wife?”
He thrust into you again and your own voice was getting a little higher. Hard, rough, desperate. The spinning, the rising was happening. You held onto him. Then one glove began to reach down and circle your clitoris, you gasped- letting it out. The hard leather on your wet folds, on your bud was going to break you. You heard his words. You bit on, to fight the rise, to not release yet. Hearing each thing he said.
“If I live- I Want you in my tent. On my bed, over the blankets. I want you naked -and I want your legs spread wide for me-so I can ravish you like this again when it’s done. Do that-do that for your king,”
“Yes, yes-I will!”
“I-I-am-nrgh-your king, am I?” he asked as he thrust.
“Y-yes! Yes, you are!”
“Who is your king?”
“Henry! Henry’s my king!”
He then continued at another violent, rougher pace. You wondered how much of this you could even take.
“I want to take you-nrgh- scream-nrgh-so all of France know who belongs to you-you-yes-NRGH- are mine-as-as as France as mine.”
He began to thrust harder. You gasped, as he kept at it.
“Oh-Oh my god-oh god- it’s-it’s happening-Henry I’m-I’m I’mI’mI’m-“
“Yes-Yes-you’re there, little whore-cum-cum for your king-cum for your king-cum for your king!”
Finally, you did too with a last scream. It echoed across to where the sound pattered through the woods. With a breathy, struggled shout he released as well. He kept thrusting, but slower. His hot speed shot forth and went inside you. Both of you panting wildly- you could see your chests heaving. He then held you, shaking a little as he caught his breath.
“Y/N….darling…thank you…I love you…so much…”
He kissed the side of your head as you nestled together. He kissed your cheek and his grip softened.
“Are you hurt?”
“No…I’m not…I have never felt better…” you said.
He helped you back up. Though you felt a little dizzy from the intensity. You could feel his seed inside you-dripping a little down your thighs. You wanted it to stay. Perhaps you would have a child from this and you would have to one day tell them they were conceived on the morn of a battle. Your legs shook. He picked up your discarded clothes and quickly helped you dress back into them. You combed you both wiped the hay off of both of you.
“That was…that was incredible…” you sighed as he clasped the cloak around you.
“And I must agree with you…” he replied.
You walked out soon. Still holding hands. He blushed bright red and there was a prance to his step. Confidence. Even if he was defeated, he would not go down easily. Not without a fight. The sun was now rising higher. The time was approaching. You watched as he was fitted back to his armor by his servants as you stood and watched. Exchanging small looks between you. But before he faced his men, he went back and gave you a passionate kiss. The deepest, and most loving kiss you ever felt him give you.
“Should anything happen to me- the Dauphin out of mercy he shall make sure you are safely brought home to England as an act of diplomacy. I made him promise. And the remaining soldiers will guard you, as well as my uncle.”
“But if…nothing happens to you…” you asked hopefully.
“Then…you remember your promise…” he said with a grin.
“I will see you in our tent…”
He smiled, then he went down and kissed your hand. Tears in his eyes.
“I never knew one soul like yours. Your courage, your kind heart, your wisdom…the greatest of all queens in all nations, and if I had my choice of every woman, it would still be you…”
You embraced him a last time.
“I love you, Y/N. And you will always be loved by me. Thank you…thank you for everything…”
“I love you too, Henry…”
Sharing a brief last kiss on your forehead, he went on his white horse. You felt tears streaming down your face. Then off he went with his men to battle. You never felt prouder of him. Though you felt yourself crying, you were smiling as well. Proud of your king. Your lover. Your husband.
#smut#tom hiddleston smut#carrie writes#the hollow crown#prince hal#henry v#prince hal x you#prince hal x reader#prince hal x fem! reader#prince hal x y/n#prince hal x fem! y/n#henry v x y/n#henry v x fem! y/n#henry v x you#arranged marriage au#medieval au#historical au#tom hiddleston#tom hiddleston imagine#tom hiddleston characters#fluff#historic fiction#history#tom hiddleston characters fluff#prince hal smut#henry v smut#the holllow crown smut#tom hiddleston characters smut#tom hiddleston fluff#tom hiddleston fanfiction
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Last Updated: 2024-02-02
Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Prince Hal/Henry V stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.
Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning
✠ Claimed￨Prt. II￨Prt. III by yespolkadotkitty • 18+ • 〔E᜶M〕 • 🚫 •
Summary: When an unknown man claims ownership of your home, you determine the best course of action is to gain his favour by using your feminine wiles.
✠ Arise Fair Sun by smolvenger • 〔F〕 •
Summary: "One night, Henry appears under your balcony to confess his feelings to you."
✠ Army of King Henry V, the by frostbitten-written • 18+ • 〔E᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "King Henry V will be departing for battle on the morrow. He and his queen share one last night of passion, with hopes of conceiving"
✠ Her Prince￨Prt. II by omgrachwrites • 〔F᜶A〕 •
Summary: "The man that comes to visit you at your woodland cottage —the man that you're falling in love with —is a mystery. When you discover what he's hiding from you, it turns your... world upside down."
✠ Nursing the Prince by smolvenger • 〔F〕 •
Summary: "You tend to Prince Hal's wounds after the Battle of Shrewsbury."
✠ Prince and the Servant, the￨Prt. II by angelkurenai • 〔F〕 •
Summary:
✠ Queen's Abduction, the by smolvenger • 16+ • 〔A᜶C〕 • 🚫 •
Summary: "Shortly after your secret marriage to the king of England, Henry V, a nefarious villain abducts you to be his..."
✠ Second Floor, the by shiningloki • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "Prince Hal has been visiting the ale house for as long as he could remember. He met you there —a woman employed by the tavern to pleasure its customers. After taking you for the night, Hal [demands you] be reserved for his personal use only... Six months later, Hal [returns after leaving for war three weeks early] later to indulge in [you], but this time, he has come with a shocking revelation."
✠ Shy by high-functioning-lokipath • 〔F〕 •
Summary: "[Like] many nights, Hal finds himself in the Eastcheap taverns… [However,] this night, he notices something different — or rather, someone. Blending into the background... [you keep your] head down... as [you clean] up... occasionally [you glance] their way, meeting his eyes a few times but never lingering in his gaze. [So] as any cocky, self-assured Prince would do, he saunters over to [you], his head held high... with a charming smirk painted on his lips."
✠ Tavern Prince by smolvenger • 〔F〕 •
Summary: "You are shocked and unhappy to find out you are betrothed to notorious rake, Prince Hal. But one evening, he sneaks you into the Boar's Head Tavern... and your mind about him starts to change."
✠ Used Goods￨Prt. II by smolvenger • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ • 🚫 •
Summary: "While betrothed to... Hal. But The Law of Contract states that you must be a virgin to marry into royalty. You are not; you didn't choose to...and to escape arrest and treason, you must seek the Prince and tell him your dark secret of being sexually abused as a child. Is the betrothal over? How will Hal react?"
✠ Wedding of the King, the by smolvenger • 16+ • 〔F᜶C〕 • 🚫 •
Summary: "Henry consents to an arranged marriage to [you, a noble woman]. He is enthusiastic about [the marriage] upon meeting [you]. [Nevertheless,] as the wedding day arrives, he learns that [you are] not."
✠ Wordless by megthemewlingquim • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary:
✠ You Will Be Mine by five-miles-over • 〔E〕 • 🚫 •
Summary: Hal takes a special interest in one of the palace servants.
✠ Beautiful by angelkurenai • 〔F〕 •
✠ Beautiful as Always by lady-rose-moon • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •
✠ Fairytale by five-miles-over • 〔F〕 •
✠ Fight by angelkurenai • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
✠ His Queen by smolvenger • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✠ Prince Charming by jewels2876 • 〔F〕 •
✠ Shamless by megthemewlingquim • 18+ • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •
✠ Waking Through the Forest by high-functioning-lokipath • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
See Also: Navigation || Prince Hal/Henry V Master Index
See Also: @angelkurenai || @five-miles-over || @frostbitten-written || @high-functioning-lokipath || @jewels2876 || @lady-rose-moon || @megthemewlingquim || @omgrachwrites || @shiningloki || @smolvenger || @yespolkadotkitty ||
#Prince Hal x Reader#Prince Hal x Y/N#Prince Hal x You#Henry V x Reader#Henry V x Y/N#Henry V x You#Tom Hiddleston x Reader#Tom Hiddleston x Female Reader#Tom Hiddleston x Y/N#Tom Hiddleston x You#The Hollow Crown Fanfiction#The Hollow Crown Fanfic#Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction#Tom Hiddleston Fanfic
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dirty thoughts, riding, touching part, needy
y/n, partner half asleep.
&. KING HAL (HENRY V) x yn.
you were his fabric doll, as he started to call you after the official marriage.
softness, kindness, a giving nature and wisdom; that's how he described you.
hal spends hours worshipping and absorbing every tiny detail about you, and if you only ask, he could go on and on.
he usually gets lost in your fair wavy hair, doe eyes, blushed porcelain cheeks and delicate little hands.
"all your grace is in your vagueness, my queen. your soft voice, your manner languid, your features blurred and dreamy." his shooting words waking you up the morning after the marriage.
and then he gets lost again in your features, measuring the distance from one freckle to the other, the softness of your lower lip, more evident than the upper one, before primitively undressing you and making the bed creak until small hours.
his place was between your legs, no doubt.
and anyone who dared to lay eyes on you would meet the guillotine the following morning, at the bell's heavy ringing, and you knew it.
but the sticky words of his, sweet like honey, they only dripped down the walls of the royal halls, during boring and long meals, where you represented a public image and inspiration source.
yes, because with you, you and you only, in private, hal was the most alive animal you had ever seen.
and you missed all this.
you missed the taste of his tongue, the heat of his thighs, his overly expert hands and his hungry gaze.
he made you feel so loved, beyond every limit.
now, however, the peace pacts and bloody wars were consuming him to the core, badly scratching his armor, crumbling his tolerance.
you could rarely see hal during the day, and even when you hoped to enjoy his company in the late evening, he was usually too tired or busy checking the artillery.
you felt neglected, even though you knew very well that it wasn't his fault at all.
but now the gazes of the other nobles became more focused on your skin, and the caresses he used to give you left an empty space under the covers.
[...]
one evening, when the flame crackled particularly on the medieval torch on the wall, your steps drew their way towards your room.
the latter creaked slightly, and hal's sleeping figure gave you such a view.
he was shirtless, as always, lying belly up, lost in a deep and calm breath.
you approached the mattress, making sure to not make any noise. you quickly got changed in your pajamas and sat next to him.
something about his position and his presence was awakening something brutal and hot inside your knotted stomach.
you could feel your stomach juices flaring up.
fuck, you needed him.
the sin was now rising to the neurons of your brain, consuming you alive.
you didn't know if he would forgive you, no, but you knew that that was all you had to do.
such dirty thoughts for a queen.
[...]
you found yourself straddling him with only your underwear, you had taken off almost everything. you molded yourself to his pelvis and the hardness you felt between his thighs took your breath away.
you stopped breathing. your eyes widened and you felt your cheeks burning.
you felt his erection quiver under the thin layer of your panties and with an inhibition that was unknown to you and an incessant need to attenuate the devastating heat that you felt between your thighs, you rubbed yourself against him, moving your pelvis dangerously.
faster, faster.
faster.
faster until you could feel yourself soaked.
you could feel his hips bones the more you moved, and your mouth was wide open.
you looked at him hypnotized in his most regal sleep. his perfect face teasing you slowly, in such a perverse way that made you even wetter.
you panted.
the breathing heavy and wet.
no longer able to bear the powerful pulsations between your legs you moved even faster but slowing down every now and then, when small grunts came out of his soft lips.
without even realizing it you were already entertaining yourself, rubbing your fingers against the fabric of your own underwear.
dirty moans fill your ears.
you didn't know what you were doing, but you knew you had never felt better.
"are you going to cum on me so soon?" asked a husky voice in your ear, panting.
fuck.
you couldn't look up, you couldn't allow yourself to sink into your wet perversity like this.
you could barely nod.
an ashamed queen ashamed of her own actions.
how disgusting.
hal grabbed your hips and with one move made you turn your back, letting out a small cry of surprise that you knew would excite him even more. your smells mix with the spicy ones of the room, the bodies merge. this position made everything more intimate and awkward.
"how naive to think i was really asleep..."
you worshipped him, as if you had a god in your hands, while he slammed you onto the mattress with incredible force.
now you found yourself with your cheek against the pillow and your pelvis raised to the height of his cock. with one hand he grasps your buttock, he places the other on the back of your neck to keep you still. you felt dizzy and hot.
he moaned like a caged animal.
you knew he was just holding back and that if you could turn around you would see a murderous look.
the one look you needed to know when he wanted to push himself into you.
he needed.
instantly.
he squeezed your buttocks vehemently and your eyes widened when he gave you a resounding slap on your buttock which made you let out a very powerful scream and which, to your enormous surprise, made you terribly more excited. you felt him lean over you, his massive chest pressed against your thin back. he loomed over your body, brought his mouth close to your ear and, in a husky, sensual voice, murmured, "fuck, i didn't know my queen could have such a twisted mind within these walls."
"i-...i can explain...your majesty...forgive m-"
he pulled your hair to make your back arch and the loudest moan left your wet lips.
your legs trembled in the middle due to your own sound.
how pathetic.
that's just how you were when you needed hal.
"there's no need, just let me fill you up with my cum until my queen is completely satisfied beyond any physical limit. and call me hal, only hal." a soft wet kiss delivered on your shoulder.
"forget your queen duties tomorrow."
the last famous words you fucking craved for so long.
#timothee chalamet#timothee x y/n#timothee imagine#timothee chalamet x reader#timothée chalamet#timothee chalamet x you#&. HAL#&. HENRY V#the king#haltheking#timotheehal#timothéehal#&. HAL x yn#&. HENRY V x yn
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I’m Your Whore
Summary: who deserves to be called the White Wolf
Pairings: Geralt of Rivia X Reader X Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers
Rating: explicit
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, PIV sex, unprotected sex, threesome, rough sex, sucking, sex with an audience, creampie, hair pulling, D/s dynamics, cuckolding, spit roast, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 2.1K
Bucky Barnes Masterlist
Geralt Masterlist
“We’re here ma’am,” Pietro looks at you through the rear view mirror, and you wait for your bodyguard to open the door. Upon looking away, Pietro gives a quick wink to the giant at your side.
Geralt leans over to you, whispering a quick, “Are you sure you want to do have this meeting in your condition?” You roll your eyes and push the man out of the car.
“Go on, White Wolf. I will not have you telling me what it is that I need to do,” Geralt loved your sass. It was a bit unpredictable at times, and he hopes that you are of clear mind during your meeting with Steve and his own White Wolf.
He gets out, holding the door open for you, and extends his hand. Waiting for you to take a few steps forward, and he begins following you. Your head high as you walk through the halls of Steve’s estate. Your heels clicking down the way, alerting Steve of your arrival, and he peeks his head out of his office.
“Nice of you to join me,” the blonde man gives you a nod as he holds his hand out for you to follow him into the room. You greet his own guard Bucky with a nod, and wait on Geralt to pull out your chair before he takes the place behind you. His hands crossed in front of him. Geralt gives a quick smile to Bucky, and turns his gaze down to look at your lap.
“Steve, what is the meaning of this?” You cock up a perfectly arched eyebrow watching as he takes his place at the other end of the table. Bringing your fingers onto the table, your French manicure taps on the lavish wood, but he still sits there quietly.
His ringed fingers rub over his lips, pursing them in thought, “Steven? I haven’t got all day.”
“It appears that we have a dilemma?”
“Oh?” You turn your head to look at him, “And what is our dilemma?”
“Do you not find it curious that both our guards have the same nickname?” You lean back into your chair, and shake your head. When he continues to sit silently, you tap on Geralt’s hand, and he scoots your chair back. Standing up with his assistance, Steve’s slams a fist on the table, “Sit down.”
You sit quickly, glaring at him. Daring him to say another word, “I proposed a way to determine who should keep their name,” you sigh, taking a deep breath, annoyed that Steve was wasting your time. “Why don’t they see who can make you cum faster?”
“Steve!”
“What?” He chuckles, “Are you trying to say that you haven’t look at either of these men and imagined what they would feel like buried in between your thighs? You keep Geralt on a short leash, while you eye Bucky every time you’re in his presence. Try and deny it, Darling. You are curious.”
“Is this why you gave me an out to this meeting?” You turn around to look at your White Wolf, and he nods with a smirk. “The three of you just casually discuss my cunt?”
“Yes,” Steve tells you, spinning around a few of his rings. “It’s not everyday we see a strong woman with so much power. Sometimes it’s nice to see the face she makes at her most vulnerable?”
“And when is that, Steve?”
“Right before climax. You let your walls down as your cunt clenches down on a fat cock. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head, while you’re taken to another plane of existence. Just pleasure. Pure, unadulterated, sinful, pleasure. Seeing how both men want to keep their nickname, you will be the judge on who is in fact the White Wolf? Look at it as becoming their She Wolf. One will rise in ranks, while the other will be reborn. Are you not going to take me up on my offer? I’m giving you a gift.”
Steve’s eyes darken as he watches you. Your eyes coast down Bucky’s front, before you look back at Steve, “And where do you propose that this takes place?”
Steve snaps his fingers, and Geralt lifts your body up, sitting you down on the table, before he steps in between your thighs. Pushing them so wide that your skirt rips. Gasping up at him, and Bucky crawls on the table behind you.
“You’re wanting to watch?” You look back nervously at Steve, but he was already making himself comfortable in a chair, perfect to view you being taken apart by the large men. Bucky’s mouth attaches to your neck, and he leaves a trail of goosebumps with every open mouth kiss he presses onto you. Sucking bruises into your skin, while Geralt’s fingers make shapes on your thigh. Slowly making their way up higher.
“Why would I not want to? I need to see which one brings out the prettiest sounds in your voice,” he stands up, walking behind Geralt. Getting right in his ear, while his lust blown eyes stare down at you, “Here’s your chance White Wolf. Fuck her.”
“Geralt,” you say his name quickly, but then his body rolls, and you feel his bulge at your core.
“What do you say, Darling? You up for the challenge?”
“Yes,” you whimper out, and Bucky lays you flat on the table. His mouth moving your own. Kissing you upside down, while his fingers rip off your blouse. The different feeling of his flesh hand and metal hand kneading your tits has you moaning into his mouth.
Geralt rips off your panties, and spreads your legs out wide. Whistling at just how wet you were, and it was all for them. His hands grab at the back of your knees, and he brings them down by your side. Making your legs go in the same direction as your head, and Bucky finally lifts up. Watching Geralt take his thick cock out, and slaps it against your clit, creating strings of his precum and your arousal.
Pushing his thick cock in your entrance, he quickly pushes all the way in, before pulling out just as fast. Leaving you whining at the violent stretch and added loss of him. Panting, and Bucky lifts you up, and forces your head to look at your spread cunt. “Watch him this time,” he coos into your ear.
Geralt slides into your warmth slowly this time. Wanting you to feel every inch of his cock. Every ridge of his length hugged by your cunt tightly. And when he bottoms out, your wide eyes look up at him. Bucky’s hand presses onto your stomach, and you look over at Steve, “What is it?”
“Oh, he’s in her stomach. You see that,” he moves his hand, bringing your own to the bump on your belly. “You feel it?” Geralt pulls himself out slowly. Achingly slow, and you watch the bulge disappear. And then he pounds into your heat with fury, and you feel it balloon back up. “You like that? You like how deep he is?”
“Uh-huh,” your fingers grip onto his wide waist, and you give him a little nod. “Wanna feel you more, White Wolf.”
Geralt grunts, and starts rutting into you. Overpowering your body, while you become a complete mess. “Steve,” you call out his name, eyes glancing over at him. He was enjoying the show. Taking a slow drink of his bourbon, while his hand palms himself. “Steve!”
“Does your White Wolf make you feel full?” You nod your head, gasping when Geralt’s tip edges at your cervix. “He is a big boy. Thick and veiny, just how you like it, huh? You gonna be a whore for Geralt?” You shake your head no, because while you enjoyed this, you didn’t want to be a whore for him.
“Would you hurry up,” Bucky pleads, giving your nipples a hard pinch. “I wanna see how much her hole is gaping when your finished with her.”
Geralt, a man of few words, picks up his pace. Rolling his pelvis deep into your cunt. He was a genius. Hitting every one of your spots, and your eyes go hazy as euphoria pulses through your body. Your velvet walls clench tight around him, and he grunts, struggling to pull himself out. You had him in a vice grip. Taking every inch of him.
“She’s been gripping me tight,” he grunts out. Gritting his teeth, he slams into you one more time before his spunk paints your heated walls.
“Move,” Bucky demands, getting himself onto the floor. He twists your body to lay on your stomach. Gripping your hair at the root, he lifts your head to look at Steve, “Want him to see what a mess I can make you.”
His movements were smooth as he pushes into you. His own little whimper rings into your ears, and you weren’t prepared for how soaking wet his pretty sounds were going to make you. A fresh flood of slick coats your walls. And he moans again. Starting to rut into you vigorously.
Hips pounding onto your ass, and he starts nibbling at your shoulder. Smirking up at Steve when his hand wraps around your body, and he starts making tight circles on your bundle of nerves. Bucky lets go of your hair, and your head droops down. Your mouth dry at all the sounds you’ve made, but there was one that Steve wasn’t ready to hear.
“Bucky,” you choke out as pleasure overtakes you.
Steve stands up, and is over to you in two strides. Gripping at your cheeks, lifting your face up to look at him, “Now, I thought I told you I was giving you a gift. These two men may be fucking you dumb, but I’m the only one that should be on your mind. If I hear you say, moan, scream, or even fucking mumble one of their names again, I will fuck you so hard you’ll be walking funny for a week. Don’t test me, Princess. You said I owned this pussy, and I will let anyone fuck her, and you’ll like it, but only your husband’s name echos off those pretty lips. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” you pant out. Your voice was hoarse already, and your head bounces around with Bucky’s motions. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“You’re forgiven,” Steve was so fucking hard. He was refusing to pull his cock out. His thick hand just rubs over his tighten pants, and you drool at how calm he was.
Flat on your stomach, while you look over to your husband, Bucky props himself up on his fists. He pistons hard into your abused snatch, and you let out a loud drawn out moan. Everyone in the house can hear you. Could hear the table legs scratch the floor with every hard pound into you that Bucky makes. Your pussy makes loud squelching sounds. It reverberates off the wall, and all three men are mesmerized by how much you could take.
Geralt walks over to lift your chin up, and you realize that he had crawled onto the table. Your face right in between his thighs, “You’re not too dumb to suck on my fat cock, are you?”
“N-n-no,” Bucky doesn’t slow with your whimpers. In fact it just makes him slam into your harder. Using his thrusts to bob you over Geralt’s cock. Bucky doesn’t even care that your cunt is clenching down on him again. He looks up at his best friend with a smirk. Flicking his head over to Steve, who stands up.
Bucky makes sure to pull his cock almost completely out of you. Letting your husband watch as your cream coats Bucky’s member. Your slick covers his cock as it glistens in the lighting.
“Yep, this is a perfect way to occupy your mouth. So who gets to keep the White Wolf?”
Pulling his cock out of you, Geralt slaps you across the face, asking who again, pulling his dick out of your mouth to slap across your cheeks. “Both. Both,” you whimper out again. Looking up at Steve who finally fists his cock slowly. “Both!” You scream out as Bucky slams into your cunt one last time before he spurts deep into your core, and you moan out Steve’s name.
“Alright, gentleman. Stay if you wish, but looks like we’re going to have to do this again. At least until she chooses” he walks over to you, and pushes Bucky out of the way. “Stay if you must, but now, I’m going to be the one to fuck my wife. Even if she is a bit incoherent now. You can handle a few more orgasms, right?”
You give him a nod as he lines himself up. Taking a deep breath before he barrels into your warmth, “I’ll let you know when you can play again boys,” Steve always controlled the situation. Always. “And you my darling wife. You take cock like the best girl. It’s like you were made to be my whore, huh?”
“Yes, sir. I’m your whore.”
Masterlist
@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @infatuatedjanes @missusbarnes-rogers @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @peaches1958 @thedarkplume @rebekahdawkins @seitmai @harrysthiccthighss @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @smile1318
#mafia au#wolf v wolf#white wolf v white wolf#Geralt x reader x Bucky Barnes#geralt of rivia#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#geralt x reader#geralt x fem!reader#geralt x y/n#geralt x you#bucky barnes smut#geralt of rivia smut#geralt smut#henry cavill#sebastian stan#steve rogers
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synopsis: cursed in a magic circus, king Hal loses his crown. He is willing to believe any curse can be a blessing when it brings him to you.
tw: magical au! talks of poisoning, talks of creepy old men, attempt sa
a/n: don't forget to let me know what you think: asks, reblogs, messages, comments, whatever feedback is welcomed, cherrished and encouraged <3
SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME THEY KNOW WHY KING HAL'S HORSE IS NAMED TINY HORSE, I'm begging
A galloping circus
When the moon begin her slow ascend on the still lit sky, one can feel a thimble in the air. A shift in the waves of air. Colder, harsher, agitating the sea and the ocean in a call to help their queen. And as the tides spiral 'til the stars to tickle them awake, the Masters of the night spread their limbs and smile a toothy grin.
One such Master is the First Star. Born from Lihtnighte and the Moon, coddled by the moms and gaped at and admired by the whole suite, the First Star learned to love its beauty. Worshipped by the humans for the light it offered, as bright as a second sun in the midst of shadows full of lurking beasts, the First Star learned to play with them.
It visited often on the Land. Amongst humans, unlike any other Master. Bored to no end, the First Star decided to stir up some fun...
"But what's fun for an immortal isn't fun for us, mere humans." You whispered under your breath, cementing your annoyance with a swift roll of your eyes. The horse you were tessellating neighed his agreement. He moved his head stubbornly against your comb when you approached his hair, meaning to braid it before the show.
The circus master gave you a stern look and repeated the last sentence to anchor himself in his speech again. The entire tent was witness to chaos and havoc below its curtains. Just like every time you visit the duke's domains.
You paid no mind to the story. You knew it by heart already. All people do, part of the circus or not. The First Star created it to amuse itself. At the beginning all was good. People presented their talents, made jokes, put plays in place, danced and singed as they did when celebrating the other Masters of the night.
But one human dared to question it. The First Star was too laid back, keeping people from their work days and nights in never ending rows; and thus harming their society. Taking great offense at the mortal, the First Star cursed her and the circus. Frozen in time, forced to perform for eternity in its name so that anyone else can move forward like the daring woman wanted.
Which is why the humans of the Land religiously respect the Bright Circus. Wherever it goes, every night it performs, the tent captures the unique light of the First Star, shining like a diamond on the ground.
You were a bit odd in this picture, though. You joined the circus willingly a hundred and seven years after it was made. Running from a marriage you wished no part of, fooled by enchanted promises and silvery lies.
The First Star appeared to you one night, startling Nightsun, your favored horse. A wild stallion none of your father's stable boys could tame. He bowed to you, though. The little lady y/l/n who would rather feed the horses and clam the hay than sit through manner lections and dress fittings.
It led you to the Bright Circus. "I've been watching you, miss y/l/n. I think you would be a marvelous addition to my Circus."
Indeed, you were. Your number was easily the most impressive one under the cursed tent. And despite the scary tales of the First Star's wrath - very clearly showed by the heavy pregnant woman that wiped the seats after the public left (the woman who dared go against the Master of the night that fateful day, you later learned) - you knew no one would go against its will. If the Star wanted you, the Star shall have you.
So, you traded a cursed destiny for another. Two hundred years you did the same thing, every night. Performing mostly for the depraved rich. You started your number alone in the middle of the sand circle that separated the Master of the night's puppets from the free public. Then, like a lightning against the night sky, Nightsun would come running in. Stardust caught in his caramel hair, moonbeams glistening off his soft light-brown skin. The effect that earned him his name, a sun in the night, shining bright enough to catch the First Star's eyes.
From here, you would improvise. Years of sneaking in the stables and hiding in the woods for moments of freedom taught you many things. To chase boredom away, you'd climb the horse and dance on his back. Or play around with Nightsun, on and off his saddle free form. Legs thrown in the air while your upper body supported you safely on Nightsun, a slow waltz alone on his back, twirling and jumping around and on the strong mustang... it all pleased the immortal star.
One day, though, another odd one stepped on your stage. A boy around your age... or rather the age you were before the curse froze you in time alongside the people of the Bright Circus. He was tall and lean, his hair cut carelessly, shorter on edges, cupping his face with wild curls. He walked with his head held high, even though his shoulders seemed to drop down on each step.
Hal. No last name, no middle name, no backstory. A boy brought in by the First Star one afternoon as mysteriously as it took you. All the boy owned was a beautiful horse that kept close to her master. A high mare of the deepest browns you've ever seen; one white strike split her face in two, completing the etheral image the horse made. Her, and the clothes on him.
You have tried guessing his life story from them, the dusty clothes he wore every night, washed in the river each morning. No luck. The fabric was simple, but lasting. A loose green shirt paired with a coat so long and light in weight you couldn't find it a practical purpose and tight black pants. Nothing to indicate the wealth. He could have been a smaller nobleman, a richer bourgeois or even a peasant dressed from well sewn patches of his master's old clothes. It was practiced by your father's servants.
Or perhaps even a duke's son who ran astray and found himself in an impossible situation. Your frustration with Hal only grew by the day, with his silent demeanor, reserved personality and loneliness. But you couldn't deny the excitement that rose in yourself with his arrival. No more were you alone under the scrunting gaze of a cruel public. No more were you alone, standing out against the family the first in the Circus created.
"Nervous?" He asked from the box next to yours. The First Star's magic fit inside the Bright Circus everything its inhibitors needed to please the viewers. Everything you did was to please them. And regardless of the story of the Circus' origins, they still seemed to have forgotten the pain and sufferance of people stuck in time for eternity on the whim of an angry immortal.
"He speaks," you teased friendly. You had gotten used to Hal and his antics: keeping mostly to himself when the group gathered around the fire after the show, eating alone on river's benches or with his horse in the stables. Venturing around the tent as often as he could.
A wanderer such as yourself.
One time, within a few days since he came to the Circus, you followed in his steps. It was the day you finally connected, a bond so sudden, so unusual that it could only strengthen shortly into an unbreakable one.
"What secrets do you hide, Hal? Could you be a changeling, spying for the Fae Queen? Or, even better! Perhaps a Forest Spirit."
The young man eyed you then. He let his gaze roam you, truly taking you in for the first time. Hal's frown unknitted his wrinkled brows and light touched his shadowed face unlike never before since you met him. Even a small tug of his lips fluttered at the corner of his mouth.
"Shouldn't you be more afraid if I was?"
"Oh, absolutely not! I hope you are, for I cannot make sense of you and that would be such a wonderful explanation."
He rose one brow, turning his whole self to look at you. You noticed an upside down Y shaped scar on his cheek. And you added it to the list of things you knew about your partner. A name, a secretive personality, expensive clothes, but unlike any noble's and an unknown wound on the side of his cheekbone. Such a great, useful list!
"Most people would be afraid of these beings. Even the ones who don't believe in their existence."
"But I'm sure they exist. If our Masters of the night are real, so can our folk tales. I would like to meet one. Or all. There can't be a whole world invisible to us full of only awful creatures."
A small smile graced Hal's lips, so genuine it took you by surprise and bewitched your mind and soul for a second or more. "Perhaps not." And you got the feeling he meant more that the stories that scare kids to sleep and serfs into labor.
"What's her name?" You asked when the silence became too much.
Hal smirked. "Tiny Horse."
You burst out laughing, all the pent up stress and curiosity flowing free in chimes of absurd happiness. The young man looked at your closed eyes, mouth wide open as your chest heaved with each laugh, head thrown back as you knotted your fingers in your horse's hair to keep from falling. And warmly smiled.
"Only when I have something to say. But you knw that already."
"That I do," you leaned from Nightsun to peak in Tiny Horse's box where Hal begrudgingly adorned the mare's mane with feathers and shiny stones, polished to look like authentic jewels.
"Don't worry about me, Hal. I'll survive. The horses, though..."
Hal scoffed. "I hate them. Whom do they think they are to demand how we or our horses look when we perform?!"
"A very influent duke and his court," you sighed as another scoff echoed from the boy.
Tiny Horse and Nightsun beat their hooves on the ground restlessly. A pained look passed both of your faces. All the ornaments itched the poor animals' quite badly. You and Hal had to stop your number for weeks after a visit at this duke's estate. You'd let the horses run free, bathing them, tessellating and sleeping in their boxes to make sure they're not sick.
"Why are they called nobles?" Hal mumbled. "There's nothing noble about them."
As always, there was that mysterious fog clouding his speech. A vengeful longing barely hidden. As if his past was haunting him still and Hal, bitter about it, felt trapped in his powerless state in the Bright Circus.
"The title may have bore some meaning long ago."
"It had no other meaning than stuck up minx lords believing they're better than anyone else."
"Was your landlord a bad man, then?" You asked, hoping to gain some information of his other life, before he danced with you on top of marvelous horses in a magical tent.
"Five minutes!" The pregnant lady, the Maker of the Bright Circus in her defiance of the immortal Star, announced. A shiver ran down your spine each time you saw her. Carrying an eight months babe in her womb for hundreds of years... you couldn't begin to imagine or understand such a nightmare!
When you turned, Hal and Tiny Horse already left.
°•▪︎~▪︎•°
After you readied Nightsun, you tipped on your toes to watch the seats fill with well dressed ladies, trailing their gowns behind their tight waists and lords in the softest buffalo leather coats. You didn't miss the days a maid would wrap the corset around your bruised torso until you looked like the fragile porcelain doll you had to be. But the change of the world always made you sigh in wonder.
You would usually sneak under the seats, where the ground was low and created a small hole, enough to easily fit two people. And watched. No matter the public, rich, poor or serfs even, you enjoyed observing them. Comparing how everything was supposed to be in your time and how things evolved.
Sometimes, more often than not, Hal joined you. You would contemplate and comment together on the good and the bad of your realm and how swift the shift was, that the rest of the people who had the privillage of not being frozen in time didn't even notice it.
"I knew I'd find you here." He sighed, slugging his from to fit next to you.
"He says as if I'm the one who always disappears."
"Sorry. I didn't want to see them more than I have to."
Again with the thorny spite against nobles. Instead of prying on his past some more as your mind begged of you, you repositioned yourself to face him.
"Then how come you're here, now?"
"I thought better. Couldn't have possibly left you alone in such moments."
Your heart flipped at his words. And you blinked to spread the piercing warning of tears. You nodded, hoping Hal could tell how grateful you were, dropping your head on his shoulder softly. You raised a hand to cover his eyes.
"See anything?" When Hal shook his head you hummed in content. "Good. Now you can stay with me and not see the stuck ups."
Hal's body shook with laughter. Even though the sounds he made were muffled and barely audible, you embraced the vigorous movement with a happy smile.
The duke on whose lands you were about to perform has taken a special notice in you. He begin with sending his guards to escort you to the noble estate. Everyone knows the Circus disappears at the first stream of daylight, along with its cursed ones. No matter where they were. There was no escape.
You tried to push them aside, conjuring excuses such as needing to bath, wash the horse, feed him and yourself and everything you could have think of. When the duke himself started to press you to join him, he wouldn't take a refusal on your part.
"I'm so very sorry, m'lord, but I need a visit to the river nearby. All that effort and the fire-like light had me a gross mess of sweat and smell."
"My personal bathing chambers are a well deserved payment for your the likes of you."
"Thank you very much, you're too kind. Unfortunately my horse needs to be tend to."
"Don't you have servants to do the job? I am sure the First Star provides you all with every needed thing."
"No, m'lord. I have to take care of my horse myself."
"Then let me lend you some of my stables boys."
"I prefer it if no one touches Nightsun but me. It's better this way. A show horse caring looks different than a normal one."
It wasn't until Hal chimed in that the duke left you be. A demanding dominance adorning him as if he was meant to be listened to and he knew it. And the duke felt it too. But he would always start anew each time the Circus stopped on his lands.
Hal has proven to be a rock for your sanity in the decades you spent together. And you suspected - or at the very least hoped so - that you gave him some sort of comfort as well.
"I- I didn't have a landlord." He whispered after some time. Your hand still over his eyes. Better this way, perhaps. If you could see the green entrance to Hal's soul, he might close to you again.
You remined silent. An encouraging brush of your nose against his shoulder the only sign you were paying attention.
"I was raised at Court. The royal Court. Surrounded by so called nobles. Disgusting men like this duke. I learned to see their true faces."
You muffled a yelp of surprise at his words. Never in your wildest assumption have you thought Hal might come from the King's palace.
His body tensed against your feather light touch. "What happened?" It was the question that conveyed all your curiosities. Though you weren't content with it still.
Hal let out a mocking gruff of laughter. "What happened? They poisoned me. My... the King favored me and I didn't favor them. So they poisoned me."
"The First Star saved you." The words traveled through you on their own accord. An extension of the mind who focused on what it can understand from the pieced story Hal gave you.
He nodded, shifting to face you, letting his forehead drop on your shoulder. Your palm still on his face, but Hal knew your body as he did his own. As you did your own and his as well. When you danced, you never rehearsed your moves from the start. You improvised. Always something new. Never the same choreography. You learned your bodies well. Could feel each other edges and presence even in the dark, even with your eyes closed. And it became an unconscious part of your lives and instincts.
"It came to me that night. I could barely see it, vision blurry with tears and the fog of looming end. I couldn't breath and my own blood tasted bitter in my mouth. That I managed a nod at the First Star proposal is a miracle."
"Do you regret it?"
"Do you?" Hal shot back, raising his had and softly removing your hand from his eyes as he straighten. Back to his usual self, as if he didn't just open up to you more than ever.
"No." You whispered, a sense of betrayal sneaking from the back of your mind.
You hated the First Star and the Bright Circus and what it does to its poor people. But you wouldn't change your answer all those years ago. Because you're not free right now and you will never be, but at least now you can ride, you can dance, you are husbandless and... and you met Hal. You cannot regret whatever choice led you to him. Or rather, led him to you.
"Yeah," Hal agreed, watching the different emotions fill your e/c eyes like a tangled web. "I don't regret living or having all the time in the world to spend with Tiny Horse. I don't regret my life means riding her, dancing... and you." A blush colored his cheeks as Hal pierced your soul with his own. Trembling lashes the only indicative of his nervousness. Gone as soon as you noticed it. Replaced by the suppressed anger so familiar to his gaze.
"But I do regret what has been take from me. What I didn't know how to appreciate as my brother did and didn't want hard enough as my brother did. I could have done so much for so many. Be the man my father wanted because the Land needed it..."
"Shh." You hugged Hal tight as his words turned into whispers and his body convulsed with unshed tears and rage. "Shhh. It's alright." You didn't understand much of his rambling. But you understood the feeling of shuttering guilt for enjoying a new life that hurts so many, the missing of a far away past that hurt and hurts still. And the need to change, to help.
"It's alright. We're both here now. Nothing to do about it. I've got you."
"I've got you." He repeated slower and nodded his head and blink his lids to shake off the tears welled in those mesmerizing green pools.
°•▪︎~▪︎•°
Soon all the seats were taken. A sea of people fit under the magic veil of the Bright Circus. You and Hal sneaked out of your hidden spot. It was time to take you places and get ready.
The show went on as usual. The kids went first, with their makeshift dolls from corn or wood. With the magic of the First Star they could now bring the objects to life. Orchestrate a play they wrote themselves. Never one the same as the kids, even those frozen in times for centuries, have an infinite supply of imagination.
Then Hlaf, former baker in a life long since gone, would enter the stage. He'd contort his body in such manner he could fit through a ring off a lady's finger. Following suit, Feora and Engel would amaze the public with their wire walking. Such a thin thread of cotton, suspended on twenty meters in the air, the two sisters seemed to fly.
Later came Seax with their blades and Deor with her wild animals, somehow tame to her words. After, Blīþe followed with his jokes. The short man could talk for hours and the people would laugh their breath away. But as all things must come to an end, new ones must begin.
You weren't paying attention to the movement around you. Eyes fixed on the duke, in the middle of the first row. A start coursed through your body as you felt someone's touch at your side. Hal was squeezing your hand tight, hid thumb brushing over the back of your palm in soothing circles.
"I've got you," he whispered. "And you've got this."
A nervous smile trembled on your lips, though a genuine flicker twitched the corners of your mouth. "We've got this."
"Y/n, Hal, you're turn." The First Woman of the Bright Circus spoke behind you. The Show Runner was making your introduction, the same as always: Admired grandees and dear workers, young and less so, folk of the Land, you know our story, but you don't know theirs. Everyone is aware of our blessing, but theirs is a mystery the First Star landed upon us for reason only it can be privy to. But fret not, my darlings, for their talent is undeniable. Majestic. Welcome our marvelous pair of equestrian dancers!
You and Hal rolled your eyes at the same time. Your heart skipping beats, shoulders tensed, forcefully rolled back. His jaws set, muscles pulsing on the beat of his heavy heart.
Nightsun and Tiny Horse entered the sand circle, your stage. In a mist of maroon-yellow dust lifted in the air by their grumpy hooves. The two horses settled their pace, slowing down as they moved in the circle facing each other, distance closing in, in, in...
Hal took off. Fierce. Fast. Like a knight charging into battle. The man hadn't stop a second until his feet gently hit the back of the strong mare. Hal didn't climb up, he jumped. No hands rested on the side of the horse to help him. Just a flex of his knees, a wide jump and he twirled in the air to land gracefully on top of Tiny Horse.
The people, who have been holding their breath, afraid to even blink to not lose a beat of his steps, released the now warm air at once. Then the tent filled with the deep, bearish noise of clapping, sighs of admiration, whistles and appreciative murmurs.
Your turn. Hal is waiting for you. You close your eyes to take the duke's image out of your mind, life your chin and fix your gaze on him. On Hal. The unexpected friend in which you found comfort, affection. Love, you dared name it now, to give you strength. Though you were pushing the feeling down for over a decade. As sweet and kind he is to you, he is still Hal. The cold, privet man who opens up about himself in riddles and so rare he doesn't make sense.
Except... he shouldn't make sense. And in your mind he doesn't. But your heart learned the language of his summer green eyes, the rhythm of his laugh and the beat of his soul.
"Go," she whispered impatiently. And this time her pregnant form didn't sent shivers down your body. You were so light, your body but a feather through the air as you neared Nightsun and Hal. Hal who smiled warmly at you from the just as lovely mare.
Turning to your left side as you reached the perfect spot for what you had in mind - not too close to your stallion, but close enough to work - you leaned all your weight on your left leg. The right one in the air, pulling your body after it. You felt every muscle, every tendon stretch. Then you landed on Nightsun's back with your right foot first, turning to the rows of stunned people.
It happened quick. They needed a moment to understand what they saw. And when they did, another round of heavy tinkle break through your haze.
"Showoff." Hal mumbled jokingly, so low you almost didn't hear.
"Not at all. You simply think so because you are, in fact, lazy today."
"Not lazy. Just... he doesn't deserve my best."
"Mine neither. But the little kids and the tired serfs do, hmm?"
Hal snapped his head towards you, greeted being by your questioning, almost disappointed eyes and raised eyebrows. He sighed. "You're right."
He offered you his hand, pulling you towards him as you swirled in the air until your feet brushed his - both bare - on Tiny Horse. Hal smiled and wiped the hair clean off your face before you tackled him, palms on his shoulders and switch back to Nightsun, right as he arrived to your subtle calling.
You couldn't last more under Hal's mellow gaze. The suave curve of lips welcoming you, reassuring you. You wanted more. You wanted the secrets behind his walls to include a love just as burning for you as yours was for him.
You took one deep breath and carried on. A web of limbs and bodies was made out of you and Hal, clutching tight to each other as you jumped and flew together. As you swayed to music you hummed in harmony, shaken closer and closer by horses beneath you.
Hal would take your wrists in his hands and let you walk the air on Tiny Horse's side as he supported your weight. You shifted your upper body until your shoulder were glued to his and rolled over, knocking some sand where you landed.
Hal moved one of his feet on Nightsun and circled you, proud and glowing like a Master of the Night in one of their chariots. When you could focus, you jumped and got behind him, legs wrapped around his torso as you climbed to sit on his shoulders.
"Get up. On your feet." He suggested for the ending. And you did. You placed your feet on his shoulders and waved to the public as Hal led the horses away. The night was done.
Or so you believed. Hal stopped the small convoy you created at the stables, leaving to get you both and the horses some food as the Show Runner wrapped up with the people.
Sighing in content, you laid your forehead in between Nightsun's and Tiny Horse's. Caressing each of their sides. "All done, my dearests. All done. You did so good. Amazing! I- we are both proud of you. Good job."
The horses neighed, something troubling them. You assumed it was the ornaments and moved to removed the sparkling feathers and golden jewels. But as you took the needed steps back, a thick hand wrapped around your stomach and pulled you behind.
Nightsun and Tiny Horse shifted the weight on their back legs, charging at your attacker. But the duke, as you recognized the piercing smell of a poor attempt to hide the sweat with aromatic plants' essence, moved his arm up until it pressed against your neck and pushed something shiny out front, pointing to the horses.
A ruffle, you realized, bile coming up your throat.
"Don't you dare hurt them." You warned. Though your voice was weak, strangled by the too big arm of the old man.
"Oh, but I don't want, beautiful y/n," he said, stuffing his nose in your hair and sniffing with a pleased sigh. A shudder passed through each and every of your bones as the hair on your arms picked up against the goosebumped skin.
Disgust. Towards him and also towards your powerless fear.
"All you have to do is stay still and let me have a taste for the animals to live."
"The only animal I see here is you." You spat. You knew there was no way you could put up a fight. Get away. He will have what he wants. But the least you could do was make sure it's as unpleasant as it can be. Reminding him of how small of a man he is. How disgusting, useless, pathetic...
A shot. Tiny Horse and Nightsun broke their deffence and whined, the sound scratching your ears. You tried to run to them, but the arm still painfully pressed against your neck chocked you.
"If the bulled touched even a bit of their hair..." you warned, but the duke cut you off.
"They're fine, dumb animals. Getting scared out of a little shot. The bullet went between them, probably stuck in one of those trees. But make no mistakes, I can and I will shoot them if you don't behave for me. Clear?"
Tears picked at your eyes as you nodded. Staying still when the duke relaxed the arm holding you hostage. Folding under his touch as he urged you to lay down, legs slightly apart.
If your parents could see you right now, a stray thought sneaked in. Making such a sacrifice for two some beast, you could hear your mother say. Don't be an idiot, y/n, your father would agree in his usual stoic manner.
Were you? Being an idiot? Should you fight the duke at the expense of your and Hal's horses and actually get away? Could you?
It was too late to wonder such things. The duke let his pants fall to his knees, hovering over you as he begin to undress your lower parts too.
You bit your lip, praying to your body to relax as your mother taught you for your wedding night. Night that never came. She said it would hurt less if you relax. But what about the pang in your heart and the loudness in your head. Thought banging against your skull, a bloody fist pulling at your heart, sunking it down, down, down...
You braced yourself. Lips sealed, teeth closed tight on the inside of your cheeks, head turned to the side in an attempt to see your wild mustang, untamed and free in spirit even in these or your father's stables and Hal's brave mare, strong and powerful. Eyes so fixed in the darkness your vision begin to blur.
And you waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing came.
Pushing yourself up on your elbow, you saw the duke's body lying in a wrong position at your feet. Above it, Hal stood cowered by the weight of his rage. His curls messier than ever, curved spine raising dangerously low as his breath hitched, coming too fast. His deep, smart eyes now crazed with wrath, bulged in two perfectly round shapes. In his hand, gripped by long, trembling fingers, a knife shone under the moonlight. Scarlet red blood glistening off of it.
"Hal?"
Your voice seemed to wake him from his fury. He turned your way, features softening on an instant, worry blooming in the spring of his eyes. He was careful to avoid your bare parts, gaze locked only on your face. Looking for signs of shock settling in.
"Yes, it's me." He said carefully.
You nodded. Relief flooded your senses so sudden and with such force, you begin trembling, letting the tears you fought so far fall with loud sobs and ragged breaths.
The brain couldn't keep up with the heart. You were fine. Nothing happened. But the mind struggled to grasp it. Too beautiful to be true. Hot blood pushed against cold limbs. Dried tongue tried to water chipped lips, to sooth the sting in the inside of your cheeks.
"You're fine. He's gone. Dead. You're safe." Hal spoke slow. Pointed. Making sure each of his words hit your ears and understanding.
You nodded. "I know. Thank you." Your voice was yours, but not your own. Changed with the weight of the scare. Rough and gruff.
Hal nodded as well. "I'll see to the horses, if that's alright."
He wanted to give you space. But your blood boiled now, heating every part of your body. Making your brain restless and your body so large, scattered, yet small, so, so small.
"Stay, please."
He stiffened, but did as you asked. Stepping over the corpse, leaked blood staining both of your still bare feet. Hal sat next to you, welcoming you in his arms as you scooped closer and closer until you sat in his lap.
Arms around his neck, his own supporting your back, rubbing it up and down, but never touching lower than your middle. Head hidden in the crook of his neck, breathing his scent as if it was a calming plant. Hal's head rested atop yours, the soft part of his cheek flat against the crown of your hair. Your heart steadied to follow his heart's rhythm. Your mind cleared of anything to let itself be filled with Hal. Only Hal.
The metallic scent of blood beat at your nostrils. You both ignored it, safe in your embrace. Part of your own world now. This one, no other more.
Seconds passed. Hours, days, months perhaps. An eternity and thousands more could have passed around you and neither would have noticed. Content as you were. Peaceful. Happy.
But all things must come to an end.
You tried to remember how it happened. Every detail of those terrible moments. You never were able to. A blur. A fading questioning under the weight of sharp voices and chilling orders. A shape of a distant color merged together from seven uniforms, seven people.
They took Hal first. Clothes still soaked in nappy red. They ripped him from you, limbs webbed, clinging tight to one another. And as they stepped away, finally holding Hal in their grip, you stumbled over him.
You barely noticed when the guards picked the lifeless body up, or when some servants and ladies in waiting caressed with soft words the newly widow's ears, deaf to any consolation.
A passing wondering flew through your mind - would she still be devastated had she known what the duke meant to do to you? - but you had no time to ponder over it.
"Hal!"
"Don't. Y/n, stay here. Go away. The hoses need you," he hoped to convince you. But it's a magic Circus, with magic proportions. There will be food for Tiny Horse and Nighstun and someone will attend to them. After all, the Cursed Ones are good people, a family. And even the animals are part of it.
"Let him go. He was only protecting me."
In another time, you would have known no one would care. You weren't a good lady anymore. Had your mind had been clearer, you would have remembered it. Hal seemed to better adjust to a titleless condition, regardless of the danger looming over him.
Would he be hanged? Can someone in the Bright Circus die? Lihtnighte wouldn't allow it for sure, right?
All the questions bugged through your head as you tried to pry the guards arms off your partner. Your Hal. Even without the love you nurtured for him, you owed him a try. He killed to save you. He is in this messy business because of you.
But you had too little force, exhausted as you were - and the guards, too much. They easily charged you with treason as well, for daring to stand between an act of punishment for a high criminal. Soon, you and Hal found yourselves on a short path to the ducal palace.
The journey there was made in silence. Hal was being kept at the back of the convoy - that turned to be a funeral walk as well - while they held you in the front. Even so, you felt his eyes on you, burning the back of your neck with care and concern. He didn't like the five men between which you were trapped. You neither. But more you hated the vile guards who tied Hal's hands by their horse's saddles and forced him to walk as they set the riding pace to slow gallop.
Hal and you were calm, though. Calmer than two people soon to be judged and executed should be. Everyone found it frustrating. The whimpers of fear, the wobbling lips and running noses, the teary eyes and chocked voices, it all fed the guards the sense of power they need to feel. The entitlement over one's - over many - life.
And they knew, of course they did. You won't die. You won't even catch sunrise in the dungeons. You both will vanish at the first gleam of sunlight. And if death might fall upon you, you both will wake up, well and alive, under the Circus' tents. So was your blessing and your curse.
So the guards seethed. Locked their teeth and hoped the widow duchesse would want to have your pained screams as payment for her beloved husband's death. If killing you was not an option, showing you a faith worse than must do.
°•▪︎~▪︎•°
The castle rose dark and tall, a giant's shadow looming over crops and fragile wooden houses in the valley. This particular duke hadn't took care of his servants' needs.
In opposition, the walls of the fortress were thick and standing. Richness as you have yet to see adorned the architecture. Crenels sharp and dangerous barred their teeth to you from above. And a solid wooden gate draped over a deep river, filled with Masters of the night know what beasts.
Inside, a torch lit corridor swallowed the light from your eyes. So used to the night and the soft gleam of moonlight, the beauty of the stars' glister on the blue-black sky, your pupils closed in two small strawberry's kernels.
"I've forgotten how it feel like. Being inside a palace," Hal mumbled at your side. His sudden presence should have startled you, but never again could his voice be anything but calming and comforting.
The guards let you loose, tied up to a rope they carried much in front. Leading you to the duchesse court.
"Such a big noble you used to be?"
Hal didn't speak no more. Set jaws and a shaky breath the only answer you got.
Finally, you entered a golden antechamber. Soon, you'll meet your faith... for now. As the new day must not be far, if you rightly assumed.
"Move." A rough hand pulled you forward, casing you to stumble through the open doors and almost fall on the thick woolen carpet.
You weren't scared, you knew it. But something still stopped your from lifting your head. An unsettling feeling weighing heavy above and around.
You dared a peak to Hal. See if he feels the same. But his eyes roamed the walls in shocked awe. Lining your sight to match his gaze, you looked at the portraits displayed by the yet to appear duchesse. You saw the king who ruled when you were a little girl. His son next to him. Older than you remembered. But then again, you haven't seen the prince as he became King. The First Star made sure of it. The next men were all the same: stoic under the heavy crown, a scepter and a white fur finalizing the royal look. They all shared similar features too. A long and strong line of succession.
The certainty of a unmoving past captured not in stone, but in color and art lulled your brain into a foggy haze. You let it wrap you whole and sush the ringing bells of questioning the unreliable future you had open in front of you.
Until your eyes found eyes you knew so well. Eyes you stared into for ages. That gave you strength, loyalty and love. Eyes that bulked out of their sockets on the face next to you.
"Hal?"
Raised at Court. Favored by the late king. Poisoned by jealous, zealous lords. A brother who wanted it all... It made sense now. Even if you were yet to comprehend. Hal, the boy you danced with, ride with, love. Hal, the silent, smart, stoic boy who hides a sarcastic funny, sensible man. Hal, a King of the Land.
"You...?"
You turned to face him, but he - sheepish - wouldn't meet your gaze.
"You were the King."
A nod. Barely. More likely a bob of his head.
"And now you're not."
Hal pointed to a painting next to his own. So much bigger. So much Imposing. Another man, not as handsome as Hal, lacking the mettlesome, sharp look Hal bear in his eyes, without a benevolent, yet threatening smile like Hal's that gave way to his nature - born to rule, king to his subjects, merciless with his enemies.
"My brother," a small voice like you've never heard from him before spoke through an ocean of howling water. "The one the lords supported when he went after my throne."
His throne. He said it with so much longing, yet too much sufferance.
"Wait," realization seemed to sink in, "your brother, the nobles.. they poisoned you for him? He knew about it?"
Another bob of his head. An even smaller nod. As if strings attached to the back of his head pulled and pushed at the same time. Pain and anger.
"This duke supported them?"
"Likely so."
"Your portrait is the only one polished though."
Hal frowned. He hadn't notice it, but it was true. And it confused him.
But neither you, nor him had the time to elucidate the issue. The doors blew open once more and a short woman, wearing all black from the thin veil covering her face to the flat sole shoes, strode in. She marched to the huge chair, modeled to look like a throne. Before she could sit, however, her eyes slipped on Hal and she jumped as if the seat suddenly burned her.
A yelp echoed in the room, sharp and high. Through the layer resting over the duchesse's face you could see her eyes growing in size, lids hiding in the crests of her wrinkled skin.
"Prince... I mean King Harry, Your Majesty," she bowed so low her headdress brushed the floor's dales.
"Harry?" You mouthed to Hal, trying to laugh off the feeling of betrayal threatening to consume you.
But Hal didn't spare you a glance. An eyebrow raised, straightening his back and raising his chin higher, he waited for the duchesse to get up.
"You call me your king, but you mourn one of my killers."
"Oh, Your Majesty, please! I begged him not to do it..."
"And hanged the usurpator's portrait to shadow mine," Hal continued as if the woman didn't utter a word. Ever since you left with the Bright Circus you stopped paying attention to the more normal wordly things. Such as kings and succession. But you tried to remember now a time when you felt this type of power surging from one of your father's friends or the King himself when you visited the Court. And failed.
The way Hal talked without raising his voice, yet his will spread and overwhelmed everyone in the room... nothing could compare to it. You wanted to be upset, angry with him for hiding all of this from you. Sad he missed and enjoyed this life so obviously much. But you couldn't.
Watching him now, the satisfied curve of his lips, the fire in his eyes, the sweet speech with which he let the words fly... he was always beautiful. A Master of the night in disguise. Now he fit the immortal god part like a glove. And you found yourself falling for him even more.
"And with the money and power you got from it, you torture MY people," this time he let the rage slip in his tone. The duchesse flinched. A bright smile surprised you blooming on your lips.
"Your Majesty, I'm sorry. I didn't want it. This. I had to. I'm sorry. I polished your portrait in the hope you shall return one day. I always believed."
Hal glanced on the clustered window, covered with heavy satin drapes and colorful glass art. He managed to see what you sensed. Dawns of the new day coming soon.
You draw your lip between your teeth. There was no choice to be made, Hal will come back with you, rather he likes it or not. But you watched him in worry still. Bothered by the thought he may not want to return.
"If this is true, Duchesse, then do better than your husband. Govern these lands, these people, better. And don't be afraid to cut the roots of evil, whomever might be so. Your late husband would have dishonored an innocent girl," his voice lowered, eyes dreamy, "if I wouldn't have killed him. It was justice I served, a punishment he deserved. Lose the crape and begin the change. That's an order form your King."
"Yes, Your Majesty. At once, Your Majesty. Oh, this is such a blessed day! All my men are at your disposal, my king. Just giver the order and they'll stand behind you to take back your throne. I have enough friends that have been waiting for your return to form a strong army and..."
"I do no wish an army, Duchesse. As you know, I am bound to the Bright Circus. I cannot - will not - leave." Hal's eyes slid subtly to you, hand reached for a reassuring squeeze. The duchesse missed it, too baffled to pay attention to anything nut her working mind attempting to wrap around the news.
"But surely there must be a way to break the curse. There has to. I will find it, Your Majesty, I swear it to you. I will free you!"
"Only if you break hers too. Y/n's. If I shall be King, she's my only Queen."
'Twas the last thing he said before the familiar warmth enveloped your hugging bodies, taking you to your small new family of centuries, in a another part of the Land.
#my writing#my fic writing#my fic#the king#king hal#king henry v#alternative universe#timothée imagine#timothée x y/n#timothee fanfic#timothee x you#timothee chalamet fanfiction#timothee chalamet x reader#timothee chalamet x you#timothee x y/n#timothee x reader#my original writing#timmy x you#timmy x reader#the king 2019#magical au#alternate universe#au fic#prince hal#prince hal images#prince hal fic
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The Dragon and the Witcher: A Tale of Love and Destiny
Updated version
Each of my stories will be updated as as soon as i can
Chapter 1: The Convergence of Worlds
As the sun set over the vast plains of the Continent, Geralt of Rivia found himself on a seemingly ordinary contract – exterminating a pack of vicious monsters. However, a strange portal suddenly materialized before him, swallowing him whole. As Geralt fell through the swirling vortex, he could feel the very fabric of reality being twisted and torn around him.
When he regained his senses, Geralt discovered he was no longer in the world he knew. Instead, he found himself in the heart of Westeros, a land of dragons and noble houses, in a time long before the rise of the White Wolf. Confusion and curiosity filled his mind as he looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings.
Just as he was about to wander off in search of answers, a voice called out from behind him, "Who are you, and what is your purpose here?" Geralt turned to see a group of armed guards approaching him with wary eyes.
Chapter 2: A Targaryen Discovery
In the capital city of King's Landing, meanwhile, the Targaryens were gathered to witness the birth of their newest member – a girl named Y/N, the firstborn child of Viserys and Amma. The child bore the unmistakable silver-haired beauty of her Targaryen ancestors, a rarity even among their family.
Unknown to even the wise maesters of Westeros, Y/N possessed a powerful magic inherited from her dragon-blooded lineage. Her mere presence had unknowingly opened the portals between realms, drawing Geralt and his destiny closer to the House of the Dragon.
As Y/N was presented to her parents, a soft glow seemed to emanate from her tiny form, capturing the attention of all who beheld her. A sense of awe and wonder filled the room, for it was clear to all that this child was destined for greatness.
Chapter 3: The Witcher and the Dragon Princess
As Geralt acclimated to his newfound surroundings, he soon came across the magnificent dragons housed within the Targaryen stronghold. His curiosity piqued, he ventured deeper inside the castle and stumbled upon Y/N practicing her archery, her silver locks gleaming in the moonlight.
Drawn to her beauty and grace, the Witcher cautiously approached the young Targaryen, his heart slowly awakening to emotions he had long buried. "You have impressive skills with a bow," Geralt remarked, admiring her precision.
Y/N turned to face the stranger, her eyes widening in surprise. "And who might you be?" she asked, her voice gentle yet tinged with curiosity.
"I am Geralt of Rivia, a Witcher from a distant land," he replied, his eyes locked with hers. "I find myself here by some twist of fate, drawn to your enchanting presence."
Chapter 4: Forbidden Love
Despite their growing affection for one another, Geralt and Y/N knew that pursuing a romance was riddled with complications. The Witcher hailed from a foreign land, and Y/N, a princess, carried the weight of her family's expectations. Their love seemed destined to remain a secret.
Days turned into weeks, and the bond between Geralt and Y/N deepened. They stole moments together, hidden away from prying eyes. Each stolen kiss, each whispered promise, only fueled their desire for a love that seemed both impossible and inevitable.
However, fate conspired against them as whispers of their clandestine meetings spread throughout the kingdom. While some viewed the union as an opportunity for an alliance, others saw it as a threat to their own ambitions. Geralt and Y/N found themselves caught in the crossfire of political games and power struggles.
Chapter 5: Trials and Tribulations
As tensions heightened, Geralt's unparalleled prowess with a blade became essential in protecting the woman he loved and her dragon-kin. Battles against rival houses and supernatural threats alike united Geralt and Y/N in their fight for survival.
Together, they faced countless trials and tribulations, their unbreakable bond serving as an anchor in the storm. Y/N's magical abilities proved invaluable, while Geralt's strength and agility proved essential in battles against monstrous foes.
Their shared experiences and the trust they built cemented their love, giving them the strength to face the countless obstacles thrown their way. In the darkest of times, they discovered that their individual strengths melded into a formidable force.
Chapter 6: The Prophecy Fulfilled
As the final battle between the rival houses loomed, a prophecy spoken by an ancient seer emerged, intertwining Geralt and Y/N's destinies. Only the union of a Witcher and a dragon-blooded Targaryen could end the cycle of chaos that haunted both realms.
Geralt, armed with his knowledge of monsters and the elixirs that enhanced his abilities, fought alongside Y/N, whose mastery of magic and command over dragons became pivotal to their success. Together, they harmonized their unique talents and shattered the chains of despair that threatened to consume their love.
Chapter 7: Union of Worlds
With their enemies vanquished and the realms once again at peace, Geralt and Y/N celebrated their triumph, the love between them blooming under the shared admiration of their respective worlds. They knew their love had defied fate, crossing boundaries to forge a unique bond between two realms.
Joined by their loyal companions, including the Targaryen dragons, Geralt and Y/N embarked on a new adventure – exploring the uncharted territories of their intertwined destinies. The worlds of The Witcher and House of the Dragon became forever linked, with love as their guiding light.
Epilogue: Infinite Paths
Though their journey would always be fraught with uncertainty and danger, Geralt and Y/N faced the unknown with unwavering determination and profound love. Their choice to defy the constraints of their respective worlds united them in a truly extraordinary tale, forever etched into the annals of history.
"The Dragon and the Witcher: A Tale of Love and Destiny" serves as a testament to the power of love, bridging the gaps between worlds and propelling two souls toward an everlasting bond. Through the sheer force of their will and the magic that bound them, Geralt and Y/N's love endured through the ages, inspiring generations yet to come.
#henry cavill#c-a-v-a-l-r-y#geralt of rivia#the witcher#geralt of rivia imagine#geralt x reader#geralt imagine#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt of rivia x y/n#geralt x you#Geralt
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My Favorite Cardio
Pairing: Henry Cavill x wife!reader
Summary: When he gives you that look, you know you’re in for it. Basically porn without plot.
Warnings: RPF. Cursing. SMUT. Oral (F receiving), bondage, dom/sub vibes, slight pain kink, slight choking kink, unprotected sex (P in V). Use of pet names
A/N: inspired by Henry’s interview about how he gets his cardio 😉
“Well that was quite the interview, babe,” you said with a smirk when your husband came into the living room.
Henry chuckled lightly. “You saw that, huh?”
“I got 30 text messages from family and friends with links to the video literally 10 minutes after it aired.”
He blushed. “Sorry, sweets. I didn’t know how to respond and I panicked.”
You laughed warmly. “Well you didn’t lie…”
He grinned. “You’re my favorite cardio.”
“I think I prefer running,” you teased.
His expression darkened and he gave you an almost predatory look. You felt wetness pool in your panties and you bit your lip as you stared at him.
“You sure you wanna tease me right now, (Y/N)?”
You shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I? It’s kinda fun.”
He took a step towards you, arms folded across his chest. “Yeah? You know the rules, sweets.”
“Rules?” you asked, tone light. “I can’t seem to remember any rules.” You knew exactly what your bratty behavior would do to him and you couldn’t wait for your reward.
He crossed the room in a moment, bending down to pin you against the couch, arms on either side of your body. His pupils were blown with lust and desire oozed from every pore in his body. “It sounds like you need to be reminded, princess.”
You nearly moaned at the pet name. Whenever Henry called you princess, you knew he was going to dominate the hell out of you.
Your reaction didn’t go unnoticed by your husband. “You want me to remind you? I’d be more than happy to put you back in your place.”
“My place?” you teased.
Henry let out a low growl. “Get your ass into the bedroom so I can fuck the brat out of you.”
You loved when he spoke so harshly to you. Your pussy was dripping and you had to rub your thighs together as you stood up, desperate for some kind of relief.
Once again, Henry noticed. “Already desperate, baby? Such a sweet little slut,” he murmured as he slapped your ass.
You gasped in surprise at the intensity of his smack. You turned to look at him, eyes filled with intense need. “Only for you, sir.”
“Fuck,” he groaned. “Bed. Now.”
You ran into the bedroom, tearing clothes off as you went, Henry not far behind you. You flopped down onto the bed, completely bare, as your husband entered the room in nothing but his tie and boxer briefs.
Your mouth watered as you took in his gorgeous body. Your entire body pulsated with need and you wanted to drag the man on top of you and use him for your own pleasure.
“Hands on the headboard,” he said firmly as he came up to the head of the bed.
You did as you were told, watching him secure your wrists to the headboard with handcuffs. He took off his tie and used it to blindfold you.
You whimpered softly, earning a much softer tone from Henry. “You okay with this, sweets?”
You nodded. “Yes, sir.”
He grinned. “That’s my good girl.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss to your forehead. “Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”
You nodded again.
“Words, pretty girl.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Perfect.”
You hated not being able to see what he was doing, but you couldn’t deny that you were more turned on than you’d been in ages. Henry was usually a pretty soft dom, but in moments like these, you weren’t sure what he would do. He could be deliciously brutal when he wanted to be.
You could hear Henry moving around, and you were dying to see what he was doing. You whimpered softly and tugged at the handcuffs, trying fruitlessly to escape them. “Henry,” you whined.
“Patience, my love.” His voice carried to you from the other side of the room and you once again wondered what he was doing.
You were soon informed by a light tickling sensation on your feet. You giggled lightly, unable to contain the sound as the sensation traveled up one leg and down the other.
You knew without being able to see that Henry had pulled out some of his favorite items from the sex box in your closet. The current one was a feathered tickling wand that he just loved to tease you with.
“You know there is absolutely no need to torture me, Hen. I’ll be good, I promise,” you say softly.
“Oh my sweet girl, we are past the point of promises. You behave like a brat, you get treated like one.”
With that, Henry went back to teasing you relentlessly with the feathers, never once giving you the firm touch you really needed.
After several minutes, you heard the telltale sound of a vibrator being turned on. Moments later, you felt the cool silicone against your burning pussy, eliciting a gasping moan from you.
Instead of giving you what he knew you wanted, Henry slowly inserted the vibrating dildo into your dripping hole and left it there.
You whined and shifted your hips, trying to get more friction where you really needed it. “Henry, please,” you begged.
You felt a harsh slap against your thigh. “What did you call me?”
You bit your lip. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to, I just want you so badly.”
"It's okay, baby girl, I know you do." You felt his hot breath against your ear. "But I'm gonna take as much time as I want."
He nipped at your ear gently before once again pulling away. You groaned in frustration, but kept your thoughts to yourself to avoid further punishment.
To your surprise, you felt a sharp swat against your inner thigh. You gasped loudly as another smack hit your thigh. You whimpered softly and desperately tried to close your legs, but Henry's large body was wedged between them. He chuckled lightly and gently rubbed your thigh.
You felt a pinch on your left nipple, followed by a pinch to your right, as Henry secured his favorite nipple clamps to your breasts. Before you could say a single word, you felt the riding crop smack against your thigh again.
You loved the way he tortured you, the pain a welcome feeling, but you were begging him to give you some relief. "Sir, please," you whimpered.
"Please what, pretty girl?"
"I need you, sir, please."
"Aww, my sweet girl needs me to touch her sexy little body?" he teased.
"Please," you whimpered again.
You felt his large hands rest against your hips. "How could I possibly deny you, my love?" His voice was low and affectionate, but you knew he would be as harsh and as rough as he liked.
Henry got off the bed and you whined again, already missing his touch.
"Be patient, love," he insisted.
You heard him removing his boxer briefs and your mouth began to water involuntarily. Your hips jerked up, seeking any kind of friction, but there was none to be found.
"You're so needy," he teased as he grabbed your left ankle.
To your surprise, he wrapped a soft rope around your ankle and secured it to the end of the bed. "Can't have you moving around," he said as he quickly secured your other ankle.
By the time Henry actually got back on top of you, your entire body was on fire with a desire so intense that you were finding it very difficult to think.
When his large hands gripped your thighs, you whimpered softly. He ignored you and slid a single finger between your folds, collecting a large amount of slick.
"You're so wet for me, sweets." You felt his finger against your lips and he said, "Open up."
You did as you're told, and he slides his finger into your mouth. You moan softly as you taste yourself on your tongue. Henry gripped your jaw and held you still as you sucked his finger clean.
"That's it, baby. So sexy."
When he removed his finger, he pulled the dildo out of your pussy and shut it off. You whimpered at the loss of contact, desperation to feel him touch you threatened to overwhelm you.
"Shh," he whispered. "Such a needy little thing."
Your hips jerked up, your body desperately seeking relief anywhere it could be found. You couldn't see him, but you were certain Henry was purposefully shifting to avoid touching you where you needed him most. It was driving you crazy, and you started begging in earnest.
"Please, sir, touch me. Just do something, anything. I'll do whatever you want sir, just please...please," you whimpered.
Henry's large, warm hands gently caressed your thighs. "I could never deny such sweet pleas, my love. You clearly need me, so I shall oblige."
You could hear the movement, as well as feel his body shifting around, but no matter how you shifted your head, you couldn't see what he was doing. Was he about to thrust into you? Finger you? Eat you out?
Seconds later, you found out as he licked a thick stripe up your pussy, moaning at the taste. You gasped at the sensation, your body overly sensitive from all the teasing.
He moved slowly, taking his time licking you and sucking at your clit, ignoring your pleas to speed it up. It was obvious he was in control and he wasn't going to give it up that easily.
As he continued eating you out, your brain was filled with blinding pleasure. All you wanted was to grab his hair and push him into your pussy...but you couldn't move. You wriggled against the bonds on your legs and arms, struggling to free yourself so you could touch him.
Henry felt your movements and lifted his head to look at your face. Even with your eyes covered, he could see how desperate you were. "What's wrong sweet girl?"
"I--I wanna touch you, sir. Need to. Please."
Henry hummed approvingly, but made no move to untie you. "Beg for me, pretty baby."
You started rambling, words pouring from your mouth almost nonsensically. "Need touch you please can't take it please sir I need you wanna feel you please."
He laughed at your garbled words. "I love it when you beg, baby, but I'm sorry. I'm just not ready to untie you yet." Without another word, he dove back in, eating you out with renewed vigor.
You cried out in pleasure, your climax building within you. Somehow, not being able to touch him only made the pleasure more intense. It took him no time at all to have you falling apart on his lips, his tongue lapping up your juices as you came.
Your body jerked beneath him as he continued to suck on your clit, even after you'd come down from your high. Your whimpers of "too sensitive" fell on deaf ears, but they quickly turned to moans of pleasure as your second orgasm began to near.
After you came a second time, Henry finally relented, head lifting from beneath your thighs to kiss your skin as he moved up your body. He kissed your lips, allowing you another taste of your release, and you moaned desperately.
"Baby, please," you whimpered. "Please let me touch you."
Henry had actually been considering releasing you up until that moment. "Sorry, sweets...but you didn't call me by my title, so you're gonna have to wait a while longer."
"Nonononononono please, sir. I'm sorry, please. Please just untie me, sir, please."
The desperation in your voice made him pause for a moment, his dominant demeanor breaking for a second. "What's your color, my love?"
"Green," you responded instantly.
He grinned and kissed you softly. "Good girl." He sat back up, admiring your body as it writhed beneath him, begging to be touched. "Now...where was I?"
"About to let me go?" you tried.
He chuckled. "Nice try, baby." You felt him shift so he was back between your legs. "I think I remember now."
You felt the tip of his cock tease your entrance and you gasped at the feeling. Even after years of fucking him, his cock still stretched you to an almost painful level, but there was no better feeling in the world.
"Please," you whispered.
Henry wanted to keep teasing you, to deny you some more, but he was finding it more and more difficult by the second. He needed to fuck you and he needed it now.
Normally, he would give you a moment to stretch out, take his time, go slowly, but tonight he was simply too far gone. He couldn't wait.
His cock slammed into your pussy in one quick thrust, eliciting a sharp gasping moan from your throat. He instantly set a brutal pace, hands gripping your hips so tightly you knew there would be bruises tomorrow.
"Fuck, baby girl, feels so good. You're so fucking tiny," he groaned.
You were too far gone to formulate any coherent words, moans all you managed in response.
"Tight little pussy squeezing me so well," he mumbled. "Makes me wanna stay here forever."
His cock was hitting all the right spots, making the pressure build in your abdomen. He could feel how close you were, so his pace never relented. "I know you're close, baby girl."
You hummed in response, silently begging him to never stop.
He thought about it for a moment, but decided against making you wait. He knew he wasn't going to last much longer, but he wanted at least two more orgasms from you before he came. "Come for me, baby," he whispered.
His command shattered you, orgasm pulsating through your body with such force that you screamed his name.
He had to slow down his thrusts as you came, pussy clenching him so hard he almost lost control. "Shit, baby. You gotta stop doing that or I'm gonna come."
Your body shook with aftershocks as Henry gently rubbed your aching muscles. "Sir, please," you whimpered.
"What is it, darling?"
"Let me touch you," you practically sobbed.
"Oh, baby, I'm sorry. You've been so good." Henry moved to uncuff you, quickly releasing your hands from their hold.
You grabbed at him immediately, wanting to feel his skin against yours. "Can I see you?" you asked softly.
He smiled and slowly removed your blindfold. "Hey beautiful," he whispered.
Your pretty (y/e/c) eyes fluttered open, landing on his incredibly handsome face. His curls were wild, his chest shone with sweat, and his cock was still inside of you...it was easily the sexiest image you'd ever seen.
He grinned, noticing your expression. "See something you like?"
"Mhmm...You're pretty cute," you teased.
He chuckled warmly, preening under your appreciative gaze. He shifted slightly, causing you to gasp as his cock moved inside of you. His eyes darkened and his hands slid up your body, tracing the curves he found along the way. "I'm not quite finished with you, my love."
Your eyes widened. You knew he hadn't come yet, but you figured he would let you off the hook, having come several times already yourself.
He saw your slightly panicked expression and grinned wolfishly. "Just one more, baby. You can do that for me."
"I'm not sure--"
He cut you off with a particularly strong thrust. "You were saying?"
"Don't stop," you gasped.
"That's what I thought," he said smugly, hips once again setting an intense pace.
Your legs were still tied to the end of the bed, which only heightened your experience...you couldn't get away from him if you tried, not that you wanted to. He was pounding into you with such force that you would have been slammed into the headboard if your legs weren't secured.
It didn't take long for you to be so far gone that all you could do was cling to his body, nails digging into his flesh. "Close," you mumbled.
Henry grinned. "I know baby girl. I can feel you squeezing me."
He reached between your bodies, thumb finding your clit with ease. He gently teased the sensitive nub as he continued to fuck you into the mattress.
Your moans shook the walls, mixing with his deep groans of pleasure. Through your haze, you could see that he was close. His eyebrows were weaved together in concentration, eyes focusing on a spot just above your head.
He'd been teasing you relentlessly since he got home, so you decided it was only fair to get back at him. "Look at me, baby," you whispered.
His eyes dropped to yours and you immediately clenched your pussy tightly.
"Fuck," he growled, body straining with the effort of staving off his orgasm. "What do you think you're doing, (Y/N)?"
You smiled. "Giving you a taste of your own medicine."
He raised a single eyebrow, eyes still glued to yours. Normally he would have corrected you, reminded you that you were his to command, but he secretly loved it when you took the reins.
You slid your own hand between your bodies, knocking his out of the way and taking over massaging your clit. "Keep your eyes on me handsome, and don't come until I tell you to."
His eyes widened slightly, but he nodded his agreement.
"Henry," you warned.
"Yes, ma'am. I won't come until you tell me to."
You smiled. "Good boy. Now, fuck me like you mean it."
Henry renewed his pace, quickly bringing your orgasm closer. You matched his pace against your clit, pussy clenching every few seconds to urge him on.
He was beginning to truly struggle, body so close to the edge he could barely breathe. His eyes closed as he thrust into you, but fluttered back open when he felt you grab his jaw.
"Eyes. On. Me," you said firmly.
The intensity of your gaze nearly pushed him over the edge, and he found himself begging you for permission to come. "Can't take much more, baby. Need to come. Please."
You enjoyed the neediness in his voice, and even though your own orgasm was impending, you decided to prolong his pain just a while longer. "Not yet, handsome. Be patient."
He groaned and his hand snaked up your chest, landing directly at the base of your neck. He might be letting you have some control, but he wanted you to know that you were still at his mercy.
He also knew exactly what that action would do to you, even without any pressure. You gasped in pleasure, the feeling of euphoria mere seconds away. "Come with me baby," you ordered, finally allowing yourself to orgasm.
Henry's hips stuttered as he came, filling you with his spend. He thrust a few more times as he emptied within you, voice hoarse and broken, a mixture of curses and your name falling from his lips.
When he was finally spent, he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily. You immediately wrapped your arms around his large frame, entangling your fingers in his curly hair.
The two of you laid like that for some time before he broke the comfortable silence. "I think we need to do cardio more often, I'm exhausted."
You laughed lightly. "You're exhausted? I came...three times? Or four? I can't remember."
He shifted, lifting his torso off you, angling his head to look at your pretty face. "It was four," he said with a grin.
You rolled your eyes and shook your head good-naturedly. "My apologies, sir. I shall endeavor to count next time."
His eyes lit up. "Oh that's a good idea, sweets. I should make you count them."
You groaned. "I regret opening my mouth."
"You love me," he teased.
"You know I do."
He kissed you sweetly before sitting up completely and dragging himself off the bed. "Not as much as I love you," he said softly.
He disappeared into the en suite, returning a few moments later with a warm, wet towel, which he used to clean you up. He took his time, admiring your body and all the love marks he'd made on your skin. He liked the idea of you walking around with the evidence of his adoration adorning your body.
Once you were clean, he laid down beside you, pulling you close to him. You laid your head on his chest and let out a sigh, "I love you, Hen."
He kissed the top of your head and squeezed you tightly. "I love you too, sweets."
You quickly fell asleep, but Henry laid awake for a while, basking in the feeling of your warm body in his arms, along with the afterglow of the best cardio a man could ask for.
#Henry cavill x reader#henry cavill x reader smut#henry cavill x wife!reader#henry cavill smut#actor rpf#henry cavill rpf#henry cavill x wife!reader smut
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you make me crazier ꕥ a. russo
pairing: alessia russo x reader
summary: when the arsenal team gets invited to attend an international artist’s show, little did they know—one of their recent signings is secretly dating them. pop star!reader
you hummed playing with the strings of your guitar, a habit you always had ever since you were a child. currently, sound check was going on and you were waiting for the lucky ones, the arsenal women’s team—you’re a fan of football.
you noticed your manager who was monitoring you with a few of your tour staff. a small chuckle escaped your lips when you saw the way your manager looked at her watch frantically.
“it seems like the arsenal women’s team has arrived.” jenny said, as you hummed—giving her a small nod. as she scurried to greet them.
you strummed the strings of the guitar playing one of your favorite songs, crazier by taylor swift. not knowing that the team had entered already, nor how your favorite person watched with a small smile on her face.
“you lift my feet off the ground, you spin me around.” you sang as you thought about the time where you agreed to be alessia’s girlfriend. the wide smile she had, it was something you had fallen for.
“would you be mine, y/n?” alessia asked, as you gave her a shy soft smile. you gave her a nod, as she lifted you up from the ground—gently spinning you around in happiness.
“you make me crazier, crazier. feels like i’m falling and i—i’m lost in your eyes.” you opened your eyes, as you noticed the team watching you with a smile, some looked starstrucked, and some admired the way you sang. but one—was totally in love with you, and they didn’t know that.
“you make me crazier, crazier—crazier.” you stood up before giving them a small bow, as they had clapped when the song had ended. jenny giving you a knowing look, as she knew about the private relationship.
of course, she knew—your childhood bestfriend turned manager. a chaotic bunch the two of you were.
“did you guys like it?” you asked, giving a small hum. as leah, the team’s co-captain gave you a nod. alessia watched as you came closer, greeting the team.
the sound check was exactly how you wanted it to be, the team enjoyed it. but it’s not over yet, is it? there’s still the actual concert, the team had the closest view to you—as they had the front row.
the set list was simple, you were playing the second album you released—it truly was a hit. you watched as the crowd cheered the loudest, but you kept your eyes on a certain blonde.
it was the way her eyes shined when she watched you sang. the way she’d look at you with pure adoration, and would get a bit teary eyed as she acknowledges what you accomplished and is proud to have you as her lover.
when the last song ended, you stood up—the tour staff quickly entering the stage to grab your guitar, and other things.
“that was a great show, london. i’m glad to have come out here for my tour, and i really can’t wait to come back.” you said, as the crowd cheered. you blew a kiss, as you entered the backstage—knowing that the arsenal team already had passes.
henry, your bodyguard let the team pass as they waited outside of your dressing room. chatter was heard, as the door swung open—revealing you in a simple white long sleeved polo shirt, black pleated wide leg dressy trousers, white trainers and plaid pattern argyle print pocket v-sweater.
“hi, i’m y/n.” you softly said, as the team chuckled at your awkwardness—even jenny gave you a pointed look, snickering at you.
you chatted with the whole team, not minding how you held onto alessia’s pinky—it was covered by a jacket she had placed over her leg.
a simple post is what broke the internet, it also had the arsenal group chat blowing up.
┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧ ┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧
pretend you’re the one alessia is hugging. an iconic photo this is.
liked by alessiarusso99, katie_mccabe11, leahwilliamsonn, and 12,253,042 others.
y/nl/n23: as a queen once said, you are the best thing that’s ever been mine. @alessiarusso99
⤷ alessiarusso99: likewise, love. you’re the best thing that’s ever been mine as well.
leahwilliamsonn: can’t believe you didn’t tell us, less.
⤷ alessiarusso99: sorry, cap. at least you know now
name1: no way, an arsenal and y/n l/n crossover.
name2: breaking the internet like it’s preath.
#alessia russo x reader#alessia russo imagine#alessia russo#arsenal wfc imagine#engwnt x reader#lionesses x reader#woso imagine#woso x reader#woso one shot
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—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (1/5)
pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader
synopsis: you were ona’s biggest headache at man united, until you both move to barcelona.
word count: 3.7k
a/n: i’ve been watching the men’s game for years but i’ve finally sobered FINAL TODAY LET’S GO ENGLAND LET’S GO SPAIN (MOSTLY SPAIN)
PART II, PART III, PART IV, PART V
It started four years ago when Ona first signed for United. She didn’t notice at first the way you were always gunning for her, she was just doing her job.
But now, you were here in Barcelona with her. As she looked up at you, a soft smile on your face, everything she had buried in the past year all came rushing back.
Everyone was aware of the new signing from the States for her rival club just a couple of weeks before, a dragged-out saga of whether you were going to choose City or United. Unfortunately for her, you chose the Sky Blues.
If things had been different, maybe she wouldn’t have despised you as much as she did.
The first Manchester derby you played, she thought marking you would be easy until you dribbled past her several times to register a goal and assist. She must have been glowering at you when she walked back to the midfield line, because you shrugged before grinning at her, saying: “All in a day’s work.”
“Could I just ask what put Man City above all the other contenders for your signature?”
“Well, I mean, it’s a great club with a great history, amazing players too. I’ve spoken at length with the new manager and he gave me a rough plan for next year’s project. So I’m really excited and confident that it’ll be a great destination for me.”
“What do you say to the people who think you’ve chosen City for the money?”
“People can think whatever they want to think. I’ll just play my game, and they can judge me all they want. It’s all anyone’s good for.”
“You’ve just transferred from Portland, you’ve got an enormous price tag for the women’s game, tons of big clubs in Europe wanted you. There’s a mounting pressure on you, it seems. Do you think you’ll be up for the challenge of the Women’s Super League?”
“It’s no fun if it’s not a challenge.”
Ona Batlle was what people considered a modern full-back, dangerous in attack just as she was solid in defense. But when playing against Man City, she usually has to stay back to avoid a dangerous winger finding their way into the box; you. It wasn’t her way of playing, and it frustrated her that that was what her role was while her team was struggling to create chances, especially when she knew she could help.
“I want you to stay back and mark Y/L/N. Whatever you do, do not let her out of your sight,” Casey had told her.
She hated you for caging her in, and the worst part was she wasn’t sure if she can stop you sometimes.
The night before her next game against you, she watched how you played the previous match, studied your movement carefully, and took notes. She liked that she had found a pattern. You liked to use your speed, but you also liked to taunt your defenders; a pace of prime Thierry Henry’s, and showboating tendencies like that of Neymar. It’s why you were so entertaining to watch, because every defender you faced ended up a sort of decoration to your parlor tricks, her included.
Ona never liked being second best to anybody, and certainly not to you.
And so when she was on the pitch, zeroing on you like a hawk, there was nothing stopping her from getting away from you. She didn’t need to resort to any risky challenges, she just needed to stick with you, keep you at arm’s length, and stay between you and the goal at all costs.
You may be a skilled player for your age, but controlling your temper is something you haven’t been able to achieve. She heard you cursing a few times, eventually earning you a yellow card when your insults were directed at the referee.
The ball had only left the City’s goalkeeper, Roebuck, yet she already felt you pushing back against her.
The game ended 3-1 for United, but she was secretly much happier that she had managed to piss you off so much, that you didn’t bother shaking hands with her afterwards.
“Congratulations, Ona. A huge victory for United. What do you think went well today?”
“I think that our plans worked because we practiced and showed what we’re able to do. We didn’t have a lot of possession, but we focused on the counterattacks, and I think that definitely was a very effective tactic today.”
“I have to ask you about Y/N Y/L/N. She’s been a formidable player in the league until now, and notoriously difficult to defend against, but she was practically silenced today on the left-hand side. Do you think you had something to do with that?”
“I think what I’ve prepared in defense has worked out, for sure. I’ve also got my teammates to thank for covering the grounds for me. Y/L/N is a good player, and it’s always a joy to play against her.”
Her rivalry with you continued, and soon even the press was picking up on it. Manchester derbies now included Y/L/N v. Batlle, and everyone was predicting what crazy thing would happen next. It wasn’t common for defenders to make waves in the paper compared to superstar strikers or even midfielders unless they were linked with a big move. But soon Ona was reading about herself in the news, how she has defended Manchester United’s left wing with an iron grip, how they started calling her la matadora, for her ability to hold off forwards and tame them like bullfighters do.
One bull remained to be tamed though, and her conundrum continued into her second season at United.
Unlike her, you seemed to take the new breath of fame easily enough. Day in and day out, there were news of you scoring goals and bringing Man City to the top of the table by November.
You were born to be a star.
But Ona knew from shooting stars in the game that burned out too quickly; if you let what’s outside the pitch get to you, you might as well just leave it altogether. You might have been a good player, on your way to becoming a great one even, but you did have a flare for the dramatics which riled up the press quite a bit. If she was lucky, maybe the pressure would take you out of the game before she does.
International breaks were times she always look forward to, being able to represent her country. Even if they were friendly matches, she knew Spain was always being watched, as a team’s form was important on the world stage. The team would play two friendly matches, the first one being against Brazil and the other against the United States. Some friendly fixtures . . .
Brazil was a breeze, mainly because she wouldn’t have to face her biggest adversary. Naturally, you were called up to your national team, and the back-and-forth game persisted.
She had played against you many times at club level, but the way you played for your country was something else. There was more passion to the way you weave your way through defenders, more flare to your shots. It could also be the adrenaline of being called up for the first time, and wanting to prove yourself—she knew that feeling well.
It didn’t come as a surprise, then, that when a long ball was played over the defense line and Marta Cardona was on her way towards goal, you’d be there to strike her down right at the edge of the box. Her teammates appealed, and the referee paused the game, but all Ona saw was red. With a speed she didn’t know she had in her, she sprinted to you and shoved you away as you were bending down in a show of checking on Marta.
“What was that?! You could have broken her ankle, cabrona!”
“Watch it.”
You had never seen her so angry before—her jaw locked as she continued to hurl insults at you. If she wasn’t your mortal enemy maybe you could have found it attractive. So you pushed back, and soon both your teammates and hers crowded around you, trying to separate you. Kelley put her arm around your neck and walked away, telling you to “keep your cool, this is only a friendly”.
Never, you thought. Never while I’m playing against her.
You apologized to Marta eventually, and she was cool with it. “Heat of the moment”, she said, and you were grateful. You never meant to hurt anyone. Sometimes you just couldn’t control your adrenaline spike.
As expected, Ona didn’t even look at you after the match. So you went home with Marta.
The next morning at breakfast, Ona heard laughing from the girls surrounding Marta.
“How was your American late-night snack, Marta?” Leila laughed.
The girl only shook her head with a grin. “It was delicious, alright.”
Ona didn’t know what that twisted feeling in her gut was when she heard what Marta said, as she walked back to her hotel room after breakfast. She just knew that as long as she was alive, you were the most despicable person she knew.
ESPN: Y/L/N-Batlle Feud Continues, Bonmatí Controls Midfield in Spain-USWNT Clash
“LOS ANGELES -- Thursday night saw a friendly match between Spain’s women's national team and the USWNT at the Snapdragon Stadium that ended in a 2-2 draw.
Several debutants started for both teams, including Man City powerhouse Y/N Y/L/N. After a stunning cross into the box from the left for Mallory Pugh to tap in, a dangerous slide tackle on Marta Cardona ensured Y/L/N to be the heart of a confrontation between several players, including Ona Batlle. It seems their club rivalry persists as they were seen giving each other a very clear piece of their minds, and several clashes succeeded the Cardona tackle.
It would have been a good performance for both if not for the slip of attitude. One thing is clear, though; the mentality is there, and it sure is entertaining to watch.
[…]”
The end of the season was fast approaching, and while you had become a thorn in her side, it came to a point in which she would not think about you until a week before a clash. This one in particular was crucial in the race for a Champions League spot that both Manchester clubs were vying for. She knew what it meant for the club to secure a UCL spot for the first time, and you were not about to ruin it for her.
Tooney and Millie invited her out for dinner the night before the derby, but she turned them down, opting for a quiet night in instead. After a few hours, however, she suddenly felt antsy, the anticipation before the game nipping at her. It was only 7pm when she checked and she decided to go for a run. She followed the familiar path she always takes to the nearby park, and she was glad she did because the sun was going down, leaving a glorious trail of orange in the sky. She loved these peaceful moments, away from adrenaline, away from the constant pressure, away from constantly having to push herself or she’d be called ‘lazy’.
A constant huffing sound appeared next to her, and when Ona looked down she saw an adorable corgi looking up at her while wagging its tail.
“Hello,” she bent down and pet the dog. Loving the attention, the little corgi jumped up in an attempt to lick her face, to which she let out a laugh.
“Bratwurst! Come back here!” She heard a voice call in the distance, which she assumed must have been the owner. “Sorry, he loves people.”
Ona looked up, and her face dropped. You did the same, standing frozen in front of her. Bratwurst was jumping up and down before you, probably excited that he received pets from someone else today.
She had never seen you in plain clothes before. You clearly knew how to dress yourself, because she might have admitted that you looked good if she didn’t hate you so much. But it was difficult to see you as anything else other than Y/N Y/L/N, Manchester City winger, and potentially Golden Boot winner this season by the looks of it.
And yet, she sat down on a nearby bench with you anyway, watching Bratwurst stick his butt in the air, attempting to catch a squirrel.
“I named him Bratwurst ‘cause he’s . . . long, you know?” You chuckled. ”Short form is Brat too, that’s kinda funny.”
In a sea of northern Englishmen, she never got to hear your American accent properly as she’d only heard you speak no more than two words to her, and most of the time they weren’t pleasant.
“How do you have time to own a dog?” She asked.
“He’s a foster. I just got him a couple of weeks ago.” You looked down at your fingers. “It’s nice to have him to come home to.”
The conversation died down, and suddenly Ona felt like this was a mistake. Maybe she should just leave, and continue her run. But she saw a different side to you—a gentler, quieter side unlike the boastful player she knew you as—and she wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing or not.
“Are you planning on adopting him permanently?”
“Maybe. I just want to make sure that I’m settled before making him move.”
You leaned back, placed your arm on the bench, and closed your eyes.
“You don’t want to stay in Manchester?”
“I don’t know yet. Why, would you be happy if I did?” You smirked, and she saw a glimpse of that player again.
Yes. “Your presence doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t bring me any joy either.”
“Just face it, Batlle.” You turned your body to her. “I get under your skin, don’t I?”
Ona blinked, her jaw clenching. “You don’t intimidate me, Y/L/N. You might be used to people bowing at your feet, but I won’t let you walk all over me. We will win tomorrow, and you might think to show some respect for others in the game.”
“Sorry, Batlle, can’t let you win. We’re playing Champions League next season.” You really enjoyed taunting her.
Ona huffed and stood up. As she walked away, she heard you call out to her. “See you on the pitch tomorrow, la matadora!”
There was nothing you could ever do to make yourself less hateful in her eyes.
It was matchday, kick-off time. Ona saw you on the other side of the midfield line. “Remember what you came here to do, and finish the job,” Marc had told them in the dressing room. He was right. She had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to let you ruin that for her.
They were to play with a high line today, which required Ona to stay near the midfield line and run back, should a forward slip through. About halfway through the first half, she had a startling realization; you were dropping back too, playing a number-10 role. It meant that she couldn’t do what she did last time you met, because there would be a gaping hole where she covers.
United was leading 1-0 by halftime, and while they had the advantage, the fight was far from over.
“Okay, ladies. Have a drink and take a seat,” Marc stood at the front of the dressing room. “We’re doing good, we’re holding them off. Keep up the pressure.”
Ona sat back to catch her breath. You were much more versatile than she thought, and maybe that was her mistake for underestimating you. It seemed too easy that you were giving her exactly what she wanted, playing high at the flank like she always does. There was more to it, but she needed to adapt.
Ona held your gaze for a moment across the field. You weren’t giving up. It seemed you were confident enough in whatever wicked plan you still had up your sleeve, that you sent her a smirk back.
It was the 70th minute of the game and they were so close to achieving it. Katie was looking for a pass, so Ona made herself available.
There was empty space near the side of the box, and she wanted to utilize it but it meant having to get past a couple of defenders.
“Vilde! 1, 2!” She called, passed the ball to her teammate, and started running. Her momentum was halted when Vilde’s ball was cut off and instantly launched forward.
The counterattack came so quickly, it must have been what you practiced. 1-1.
Suddenly, the tides have shifted. The momentum was with City. Time was running out, and the sudden goal disoriented her team. It took about five minutes for everyone to get their head back into the game, but Ona could tell City were used to having possession by then.
And then, in the 88th minute, you were given the ball from the left. Everyone except Alessia had dropped back to defend a series of dangerous balls up until now. You didn’t have anyone to pass to without getting intercepted, and you were outside of the box. So you took the shot. She watched helplessly as the ball flew past Mary into the top right corner.
1-2.
Ona’s body ran cold as she watched you celebrate with your teammates.
When the final whistle came shortly after, she collapsed on her knees.
Some of her teammates were there to console her, but she let their comfort pass through her. She needed to break something.
She needed to get away from everyone and found a spot near the bathrooms where she could catch her breath. Her boots were dangling from her hand by the laces. She slumped against a wall and began to cry, the boots clattering next to her on the floor.
It wasn’t that she was sad to have lost—she blamed herself for letting you get to her head. The interaction of the day before got her thinking what ifs. What if we didn’t meet under these circumstances? What if I could have just gotten to know you without wanting to rip your head off every time I see you?
You heard quiet sobs down the hallway and knew it was her. You had quickly gone into the tunnel when you didn’t see her anywhere on the pitch, but you certainly weren’t expecting to see her cry.
“Batlle?” You called.
She didn’t seem to notice you, sitting against the wall and wiping her face with her shirt.
“Hey, it’s okay.” That was a stupid thing to say considering you just beat her out of a Champions League spot, of course it’s not okay.
“I’m really not in the mood,” she said, looking away.
“You did good out there,” you said, watching her anxiously.
“Don’t act like you care,” she sniffled. “You got what you wanted.”
“I’m not as heartless as you think, Ona.” You quipped back. “I’m not sorry that we won, but I am sorry that you’re hurt.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” She sobbed and glared at you. It sent a chill down your bones. “I wish we had never met.”
How do you tell her that you never meant for things to go this way? That every word you had ever said to her didn’t stem from malice but from fear? You had wished to push her away so that you don’t collide with her head-on. How do you tell her that no matter how hard you tried, you still gravitated toward her?
“I’m sorry.” You repeated, like a fool.
She was hurting because of you.
You snuck a glance at the form of the girl in front of you, like you would be penalized if you were caught looking at her. You took a step back to go, but she held onto your arm and pulled your body against her.
You had been fantasizing about having your mouth against her for months, usually in absurd circumstances, like you two making out in a bed of roses or you giving her a kiss after she, a masked superhero, saved you from danger. Never like this, muscles aching, sweat coating your foreheads, wearing your respective uniforms—being so you doing this.
You wanted to enjoy it. Her lips were soft and salty, and she might have secured you by the waist against her. Your knees trembled as you sighed into her lips, pushing her against the wall gently. Your hesitancy soon turned into hunger, as you pressed your body into hers, desperate to feel her.
Murmurs in the distance snapped you out of it. “Where’s Ona?” You made out one of the voices saying.
You looked back at her, your faces just inches away. You never noticed, but she had so many beautiful freckles adorning her face.
“Ona—“ You said, but she quickly picked up her boots and left towards the voices.
Chest heaving and head spinning, you slumped against the wall with a small grin, bringing your fingers up to touch your lips where she had been.
“Where have you been?” Keira asked in the dressing room, but you just shook your head.
“Just to the bathroom.”
Sky Sports: Man City’s Talisman Y/N Y/L/N Nets Stunning Late Goal Against Man United To Secure UWCL Spot
[…]
a/n: this gif is so y/n and ona coded
#ona batlle x reader#ona batlle imagine#ona batlle imagines#ona batlle#woso#woso x reader#woso imagines#wwc23#spain wnt#man united women
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Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist
these are written as a story with each letter being a new chapter. I recommend reading in chronological order for story purposes, but these could also work as one shots.
I’ve put them in a timeline and they are further categorized by emojis
key:
🧸- fluff
🔥- smut
❤️🩹- angst
🕰️- coming soon
2008
january
you join the BAU (age 24)
july
a is for About Time 🧸
b is for Boy Genius? 🧸
august
c is for Case by Case 🧸
d is for Diana🧸
september
e is for Even Guys Like Me? 🧸❤️🩹
f is for First Date 🧸
october
g is for Girlfriend 🧸
Spencer’s 27th Birthday
h is for Hold my Hand 🧸
november
i is for I knew it! 🧸
Henry LaMontagne is born
j is for Just So You Know… 🧸
2009
december
k is for Kissing Isn’t Enough 🔥
l is for Lover Boy 🕰️
m is for Merry Christmas 🕰️
january
n is for New Years 🕰️
1 year at the BAU
o is for Ours 🕰️
february
p is for Pretty Boy 🕰️
q is for Quiet 🕰️
march
r is for Really? 🕰️
s is for Sitter 🕰️
april
t is for Two Time 🕰️
u is for
may
v is for
w is for
june
x is for
y is for
july
z is for
#spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x bau!reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x y/n smut#spencer x reader#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds smut
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Badge Bunny - Part II
Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader
This can be read as a stand alone but find part I here!
Masterlist
Summary: A routine check at your bar goes sour. It may not be his fault, but you can certainly take out all of your frustrations on your boyfriend.
Word Count: 6.1k
18+ Minors DNI!
Warnings: Porn, with plot. Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Bunny" or "Bun". Toxic relationship (let's be honest here). Reader is physically assaulted at the beginning (not by Gator). Slight mommy kink. Switch Gator. Switch Reader. Light choking. Bondage. Oral (m & f receiving - face riding). Unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it!). Orgasm denial (m). Breeding kink. Creampie.
It was a quiet Thursday night at the Lucky Lizard Bar and Grille, more bar than it's ever been a grill. You have your regulars that have been coming here to escape for years after a hard day's work needing to blow off a little steam before heading to their respective homes.
Much like any other weeknight, about ten patrons sit at the bar and various tables in the dimly lit building.
Neons in mostly red and blue decorated the walls, reflecting those colors back onto the faces you served. The jukebox in the corner pulling up another old country song these geezers loved to hear.
Henry was behind the bar, as usual, while you waited on the tables.
It was more lively on the weekends when people your age tend to come out for karaoke when there was nothing else to do in this town on a Saturday night. That’s when the real tips came in and why you suffered these boring weekdays.
You were over in the corner to yourself counting tonight's tips totaling a whopping forty-two bucks.
Looking up only when you heard the familiar, grating voice of Sheriff Roy Tillman booming over the speakers, as two other deputies followed in behind him.
Henry was quick to turn the music off.
“Alright everyone, IDs out. Just a friendly, routine check.” He smirked, as he caught your eye.
Smug fucking bastard.
Henry spoke up, “What’s this about Sheriff?”
Everyone knows damn good and well that he never came to this part of town, let alone caught dead in this bar for a so-called 'friendly’ check or otherwise.
“Like I said Henry, just a routine check.” He motioned to the other two and they moved to start checking everyone.
You were glued to your spot, unsure of what to do. You were busy keeping your eye on Roy you hadn’t noticed Deputy Shelton walk up slowly beside you.
“ID,” he huffed out, as you turned to look up at him. He licked his lips as his beady eyes followed your curves down and slowly back up.
“I work here dipshit; I don’t have my ID on me.” You didn’t think before the words left your mouth.
“Sounds like we’ve got a problem here then.” He clicked his tongue. “See, Sheriff there got a tip this place is serving minors and we’ve got to make sure everyone’s of age. That includes you.” He stepped closer, crowding your space; the stench of his mentholated dip stuck between his lip hitting you as he spoke.
“Seein’ that I’ve never stepped foot in this shit hole before, you just look like some common bar whore t’me.”
He edged more into your space, making you take a step back further into the dimly lit corner. Further away from where others could see you.
“Ask Henry. He’ll vouch for me. Hell ask...,” you were cut off, squeaking with surprise as he grabbed your upper arm, getting right in your face.
“You back talkin’ me? No ID, and now you’re disrespecting an officer of the law? How stupid are you? I could arrest you right now and haul your ass to the station.”
“No, sir.” You timidly spoke, gritting your teeth trying to maintain some level of composure instead of ripping his head off.
He once again moved closer into your space, his hips pushing into yours. You had nowhere else to go, back hitting the rough wall.
“We can always remedy this situation, after hours, if you know what I mean.” His lips curled back into a nasty smile. You wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face. “What do you say, baby? Out back, in the alley would do just fine. I’m sure you’re used to’ that.”
His lewd insinuation made your stomach lurch.
Before you could respond Roy spoke up behind him.
“Shelton, problem back here?” For once grateful to see him.
“Naw Sheriff, just this bitch tryin’ to say she doesn’t have an ID.” He turned to face the other man, a smug look plastered to his own face, no doubt happy with his work, grip still tight on your arm, surely to leave bruises, as he pulled you around with him.
You knew most of the deputies in town were aware that you and Gator were together. Shelton was one of the hardcore jerks stuck so far up Roy’s ass that he didn’t care to pay much attention to anything else. Maybe he didn’t recognize you, or maybe he was just trying to gain favor with Roy.
“Ah, Y/N. Pleasant surprise.” He nodded, tipping his hat toward you.
The grip on your arm loosened just a bit as Shelton looked back down at you, eyes widening at the realization.
“Y/N? Gator’s Y/N?”
“The one and only.” You spoke up, looking straight back at him, while wrenching yourself from his now weak hold.
You straighten your posture, gaze shifting between both men.
“We’re almost done here Y/N. You can get back to work serving these fine men of Stark County.”
“Sure, Sheriff.” You put your head down as you walk behind the bar to the storage area where you kept your things while on shift.
It felt like the eyes of the entire bar were trailing you. You were sure if you looked up, they would be.
Henry gave you a pitying frown as you passed him, before he gently touched your arm, halting your path.
“Hey, you can go for the night. I think most everyone will clear out after this. No one wants to be hanging around knowing the Sheriff could be watching for drunk drivers.”
You just nod and continue to the back.
You grabbed your phone from your purse, typing out a quick but effective text.
WHERE ARE YOU???
It only took a few seconds to see those three dots appear. Then disappear. Then reappear once more.
Outside. Back lot.
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, hoping to God that he had somehow just gotten here and hadn’t been out there the whole damn time but in the back of your mind you already knew that answer.
Putting the phone away, grabbing your purse, and throwing your jacket over your shoulders you head straight for the back door avoiding going through the front walking past Roy and his goons. You could still hear them talking with Henry as you made your exit.
The chill of the night air bit at your bare legs sending a shiver up your spine. His truck was situated in his usual parking spot whenever he would pick you up from a late-night shift. You slammed the door behind you.
Feeling like your blood was boiling, you stalked over to where he sat behind the wheel. Seeing the end of his vape light up before you could actually see him, with the putrid fruity scented cloud drifting from the window.
“Bunny,” he began as you got closer to the window, but you cut him off.
“Are you fucking kidding me Gator? Please tell me you weren’t out here this entire fucking time?”
He looked down, his silence giving you the answer as you slowly nodded, lips pursed. You could feel the fresh sting of tears welling up behind your eyes as you looked away from him.
“I’m sorry. My hands were tied.”
Taking a step back, you really appraised him. This man who was fiercely in love with you but also took a back seat when it came to his old man.
You nod, “Yeah, I get it.”
You had made up your mind.
“Fuck you, Gator Tillman.” Flipping him off as you turned away, stomping toward the main road.
“Bunny! Baby, don't be like that!” He watches you walk away, knowing you were in no mood to listen to reason.
He slammed his fist into the steering wheel, “Fuck.”
He let out a deep breath while putting the truck into drive to chase you down.
You had accepted the letdown. Per usual, just another man not living up to your expectations. Words mean absolutely nothing without some action behind them.
Using your phone's flashlight to navigate the desolate road back to your house, it was going to be a long walk.
The headlights cut through behind you, casting your shadow well beyond your line of vision into the night.
The engine roared up beside you, as he slowed the truck to your pace but you kept a steady path forward, not giving him the satisfaction of looking over.
“Bun, come on. We both know you're not gonna walk all the way home. It's cold. Get in the truck.”
You ignore him, head held high, arms tucked around yourself shielding you from the cool weather as you continue a few more paces.
“Seriously? Just gonna ignore me? That's how it's gonna be? Fine. Walk home, stubborn ass. See if I give a shit.”
You scoff, knowing he'll stay here all night if it meant you'd make it home safe and sound. Bad boy but secret softie for you.
He was growing more impatient by the second.
“Baby, C’mon. I'll make it up t'you.” He pleaded.
You stopped. He perked up, hopeful but deflated when he saw your face once you turned toward him. Tear stained, reddened and flustered.
“Make it up to me? That shouldn't have happened in the first place! If I wasn't involved with you, Roy wouldn't even bother coming by that damn place!” You yelled out, now beyond frustrated.
He let out an over exaggerated huff as his foot slammed on the brake.
“Goddamnit Bunny! Get in the fuckin' truck. You're not walkin’ home in the dark. Take this as my last warning before I drag your ass in here.” He leveled his gaze. You knew he'd do it, as you had learned the hard way on more than one occasion.
“Fine.” You sighed, not feeling up to struggling any more than you had to, stepping over and opening the door. You hopped in and slammed it. The noise made him grit his teeth and shut his eyes, but he held his tongue.
You curled into yourself and crossed your arms. Ignoring his pointed look, opting to stare out the window instead.
The rest of the drive was filled with the hum of the engine and radio softly playing. He hadn’t bothered trying to converse with you. You’d talk when you were ready. He knew when he could push and this wasn’t one of those times, though he didn’t understand why you were so mad.
Roy had told him it was just an ID check, nothing out of the ordinary and he should just “sit this one, it's a conflict of interest.” Gator did as he was told knowing you’d be a little ticked but hadn’t expected this much bratty behavior.
He pulled up to your small house. Rarely ever staying at Roy’s anymore, instead calling home wherever you may be.
You didn’t wait for him to fully put the truck in park before jumping out, slamming the door once again.
He simply closed his eyes and took a deep breath to control his temper. It was going to be a long night.
You walked through the door and shrugged off your jacket, slinging it onto the couch. The leather suddenly felt suffocating when you made it into the house.
Walking into the kitchen, you opened the fridge grabbing a fresh beer; cracking it open and chugging back about half as you heard his heavy footfalls behind you.
Gator wasn’t stupid. Something was wrong. You rarely drank, given your job most days it was revolting to you.
He unzipped his vest, removing it before setting it on the back of the kitchen chair. Then removed his hat, running a hand through his hair that was now falling at the sides.
“Bunny, you goin’ to keep bein’ a bitch and ignore me all night or are you gonna tell me what the hell happened back there?”
You were mid-swig when the words left his mouth. You slowly lowered the bottle from your lips and set it on the counter beside you, composure starting to fail.
Turning on your heel, you lunged at him. Pushing him as hard as you could, but it only moved him enough to send him back a few inches.
“Fuck you, Gator!” You yelled; eyes full of rage but it only spurred him more.
He smirked, a crooked smile across his lips that only infuriated you more as he straightened back up to his full height.
“Fuck, I love when you get like this.” His voice now turning sultry, hand reaching for your left wrist still situated on his chest.
You blinked as your mind caught up with the insinuation. You reared your free hand back to slap him, but he easily caught it mid-air.
“That’s it, need to take it out on me? Need to use me?” He whispered lower. Eyes trailing down, catching your already heaving chest. Your body now betraying you.
“Huh Bun? That…” Stopping mid-sentence, his gaze softened as he dropped his grasp from your wrist, instead lifting his hand back up to your arm as his fingers traced newly forming bruises.
“Who the fuck touched you?” He didn’t look at you directly, still examining the finger shaped splotches of light purple.
Your gaze followed his, examining them yourself, swallowing the lump in your throat before looking back up at him.
“I… It was Shelton. He…”
“I’ll fuckin’ kill him.” His jaw tightened. You could see the tendons in his neck strain as he released a harsh breath. The gears in his head were already turning.
“Gator,” you spoke softly. “Baby, please. Don't do anything rash. I need you here with me right now.”
Reaching up to cup his face, making him look you in the eye.
You leaned up nuzzling your nose into his jaw, your mouth hot on his skin. The slightest stubble forming from the long day, scratching along your cheek.
Your lips working their way up, legs straining as you stood on the tips of your toes, reaching the shell of his ear, “Make me forget,” you whispered.
Your hand slowly slid down his chest, past his belt buckle. You took his already hardening length in your hand, giving him a teasing squeeze as he responds with a breathy moan, kicking up under your touch.
“Make me forget his hands were ever on me.” You kissed him lightly, letting your words sink in.
“Anything you want Bunny. I'm all yours.”
You pull back slightly, searching his face as he tilts his head looking down at you. His usual warm caramel swirls now turned into black pools blown full.
“Get your ass in the bedroom. Now, mama.”
Smacking your ass when you don't move fast enough, groping your cheek with his large hand pulling you further into him.
His turn to whisper in your ear. “Get those cuffs ready.”
He released his grip as you moved away from him, a smirk adorning your face knowing what was to come. Another sharp smack as he followed closely behind you.
As soon as you cross the threshold, to your shared room, he wastes no time.
Pressing his chest to your back, hands trailing your curves. One of his large palms comes to rest on your hip, the other wrapping around your throat as he pulls you back, halting your breath.
His prominent bulge pressing into the fat of your ass has you pressing your hips further into him as he groans.
His lips ghost the shell of your ear as he speaks.
“Tell me what you want Bunny. Tell me what you need.” Tightening his grip before releasing it. He wanted you to answer him.
Most of the time he took what he needed; you were pliant to him. On those rare occasions, you could make him speechless with the way you dominated him. It was always a push and pull. He didn't mind letting you take the reins.
“I need you to take off that stupid fuckin' uniform and lay on the bed.”
“Mmmmm… that's it baby. Good girl.” He placed a small kiss to your temple before releasing the hold on you and pulling away from you altogether. The cool air hitting your back where his warmth had just been.
You turned to watch him as he unlatched his thigh holster, laying it on top of the dresser.
You took a seat at the foot of the bed, crossing your legs waiting patiently for his little show.
He smirked, eyes trailing your legs, he was trying to contain himself. He knew this was about you. For you.
He unbuckled his belt and popped the button on his fly. Pulling his shirt free before pulling it up over his head. His broad chest now on display for you, had your thighs pushing further together. It didn't go unnoticed, but he didn't say anything.
He unlaced and kicked his boots to the side, finally letting his pants slide from his waist.
The bulge in his boxers had you salivating. He palmed himself, slowly tracing his thick outline.
“Like what you see?” He licked his lips, hooking the band of his boxers but you stopped him before he shed them.
“Stop. Leave ‘em. Come here.” You pat the empty spot beside you.
He raised his brow but obeyed. He strode over and sat with a bounce, as you got up. Your turn to give him a show. Knowing he was already rock hard; he'd be eating out of the palm of your hand.
You stood a foot from him, almost between his thighs but not quite.
Your fingertips traced your own curves, reaching the hem of your shirt and slowly lifting it to reveal the red lacy bra that always drove him crazy.
“Fuck,” he sucked in a harsh breath. “Do you know what you do to me?”
He tried to grip your hips, but you batted his hands away.
“Nuh uh. You can look. Don't touch.”
He nodded and leant back, attempting to rub himself once more but you grabbed his wrist.
“No, you can't touch yourself either. Be a good boy for me.” You whispered, hand resting on his cheek. “Go ahead and lay back.”
He propped himself back against a couple of pillows, lacing his fingers behind his head, eyes never leaving you as you shimmed your skirt down your hips.
He whistles low, “look at my pretty girl. C’mere baby.” He says as he nods toward his lap. His cock now straining and tented in his boxers.
You saunter over, crawling up the bed slowly toward him.
You lifted yourself so you could straddle his waist, but not dropping your hips, so you were hovering over where he wanted your weight the most.
You move forward, pressing your still covered chest into his. Nose nudging slightly against his before your lips collide.
He brings his hands to your hips with a bruising grip, pushing you down on his cock while his hips shift to meet yours. Grinding, so desperately trying to find the friction you both wanted.
You moan into his mouth at the feeling, his length hitting your clit just right.
“That's it, sweet thing. Let me hear all those pretty noises.”
You lifted up slightly, tracing his jaw with your finger as you spoke.
“Here's what's going to happen tonight. I'm going to ride this handsome face, but” you tightened your hand as much around his throat as it would allow. “If you even think about touching yourself or cumming, I will cuff you and leave you aching and begging all night.”
“Fuck, Bunny. I'll do anything for my girl.” He said as his eyes linger on your lips.
“I'm going to put that mouth to good use.”
He quickly shifted you from his lap, nearly shoving you off the bed in the process. You couldn't help the small laugh that escaped from his show of eagerness.
He scooted down, into the bed allowing himself to be more flat against the pillow.
“C’mon baby, don't leave me waiting. Use me. Use my face. You know you want to.”
You slowly hooked the lace between your fingers and slid them down your thighs as he watched you intently, licking his lips. You flicked them toward him with a giggle. He easily caught them, laying them on the nightstand.
You crawl back over to him and straddle his chest as he pulls you closer, hands digging into the fat of your ass. You grip the headboard to keep from falling forward.
“Don't take it easy either baby, set that pretty ass down and ride my fuckin’ face.”
You nod and lift yourself; he groans once your bare, glistening pussy is on full display in front of him.
“Fuck Bunny, she's dripping already.” Your lips slightly parted, putting you more on display, as you pushed your hips further toward him. “Fuck, look at her.”
You get no warning before he wraps his hands around your thighs and pulls you down atop his waiting mouth.
He licks a fat stripe from your sopping heat up to your clit. Finding your engorged nub easily, swirling his tongue. Your back arched into the feeling, grinding your hips down as you gripped the headboard tighter.
“Fuck, Gator.” You moaned out. You caught his eyes in between your thighs as he continued.
He was eating you like a man starved. Loving the taste of you on his tongue he could easily cum just from the taste and sight of you coming undone.
Laving his tongue between your entrance to your clit and back down. Savoring everything you'd give him.
It wasn't long before you felt that coil start to tighten. He was watching your face as best he could nestled between your thighs, as you began to scrunch your brows giving in to pleasure.
He took your clit in between his lips and sucked harshly, moaning around you from the way your body reacted to him.
“Baby, fuck!” You cried out, “Just like that.”
He didn't let up, tongue swirling, teeth scraping before sucking you in once more between his lips. You let go while screaming his name, blinded momentarily by the fireworks you swore were behind your eyes.
He sucked gently a few more times, before letting you grind your hips onto him as you came down from your high.
His grip loosened as you slid further down, sitting on his chest, as he started to sit himself back up. He donned a shit eating grin, your fluids slick on his mouth and chin.
You leaned over and fell into the mattress beside him, still trying to catch your breath. Chest heaving from the excursion.
Not giving you much of a reprieve, he started assaulting your neck with his mouth.
Trailing sticky kisses down, his saliva mixed with your juices, tracing your collar, sucking, then quickly soothing it with his tongue. Sure to leave fresh marks in their wake.
Slowly he moved lower, between your cleavage.
He suddenly pulled the fabric of your bra down, taking your already pebbled nipple into his mouth switching between sucking and biting.
You whined at the feeling, as your pussy began to once more throb with an ever-growing need.
His hand traced your stomach, just when you thought he was going to delve between your thighs, he removed his hand entirely.
You chanced a glance down, as he pulled his boxers out of the way and wrapped his hand around his cock. His perfect tip now red and angry, leaking a pearly bead from his slit that he gathered before easing his hand back down.
“Gator,” you say with a breathy exhale.
“Hmmmm?” He hummed without looking up, continuing his current ministrations to himself, while leaving hickies across your chest.
“What did I tell you about keeping your hands to yourself?” Your voice raspy.
He stopped, caught like a deer in headlights, he looked up at you with eyes nearly black. He knew what that tone meant.
“I'm sorry, Bun.” He grins.
“No, but you will be. Lay back and put your hands up, pretty boy.”
You had been waiting for the slip up. The moment he'd fuck up. He always did.
You stood, so he could make himself more comfortable, scooting back up into the bed, his head hitting the pillows as he raised both hands above his head.
“Gator, baby,” you slid the cool steel around one wrist and tightened it into place. “I think you enjoy this a little too much.”
He laughed out, as you clicked the other into place.
If anyone ever happened upon the set of cuffs left around the bed frame, they'd just assume he used them on you. He did some nights but they were mostly used on him. He got handsy, and sometimes you needed to teach him a lesson.
Once you were done, you started to ease your way down to his boxers. Fingers tiptoeing down his chest, his stomach until you reached the hem.
“This what you want, baby?” You teased.
He nodded, face flushed red, as he bit his bottom lip before finally answering, “Yeah. P… please.”
You eased the offending garment from his hips as he aided you by lifting and letting you guide them the rest of the way down his thighs before throwing them to the side.
His cock was sitting pretty, leaned against his abdomen.
His size never ceased to amaze you; thick, and long. Prominent veins running the length. He was perfect.
You eased back up toward him. Hands splayed on his thighs. Watching his cock flex from being so close to where he needed you.
Still wearing your bra, you finally removed it, as he let out a groan.
“Prettiest tits. How'd I get so lucky?” He hummed, mostly to himself.
You spread his thighs apart, seating yourself between them. He bucked slightly, as you heard the metal restraints hit the headboard. You eyed him playfully, but his eyes were already closed, fists clenched.
You lowered your mouth, as your tongue made contact with his shaft, he moaned out a pathetic whine, running it from base to tip. He threw his head back further into the pillows.
“This it baby? This what you need?”
“Mmmmhmmm.” He nodded, still not meeting your gaze. He was trying to stave off his release. This was about you right now.
Your mouth trailed kisses back down his length. Breathing in his heady, musky scent when you reached his balls.
You took one into your mouth, sucking lightly as your other hand teasingly kneaded the other.
“Oh fuck… shit shit shit.” His hips raised, dick bobbing with the motion, only spurring you further as you hummed around him.
“Bunny, baby, please.” He whined out.
You released him with a slight pop.
“Hmmmmm baby? Look at me and tell me what you need.” Your voice was syrupy sweet as you spoke, unlike the devilish way you were currently torturing him.
He already looked fucked out. His usually meticulous hair disheveled about. His lips parted, releasing shaky pants as he finally met your eyes.
“I…” he swallowed. “I need you to touch me. Fuck me.”
“That's it. Good boy.” You hummed your approval as your hand finally wrapped around his base, squeezing lightly.
“Goddamn,” he let out breathlessly, he pulled on his restraints once more to no avail.
You licked the dribble of precum leaking down the side of his head as he shuddered. Finally enveloping him in your warm, wet mouth taking him as far back as your throat would allow.
You began to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks and pumping what you couldn't fit.
He was panting, letting out moans. His noises only make you more wet, suddenly your cunt is clenching around nothing, making you well aware of your own neglected desire.
His hips suddenly jerked up making you gag around him, taking him further down your throat.
“Fucking hell. I… I need to fuck you. I'm not going to last like this.” He choked out. “Please baby. I need my cock in that sweet little pussy.”
You pull off of him, still holding his base with a firm grip.
“Fine,” you sighed, climbing into his lap situating your bare cunt so you were straddling his cock, but you didn't move.
You leaned over pressing a kiss to his chest, reaching in between you as you lifted your hips and lined him up to your entrance.
You pressed another kiss to his cheek, “I'm going to put you out of your misery, but it's because my neglected cunt is throbbing right now, and don't you dare fucking cum until after I've had another.”
He nodded, “Yeah, yeah. Promise, just need you.”
You slowly lowered yourself onto him, only allowing the tip to breach, you moaned in unison at the small relief.
You then began the descent, taking each inch little by little feeling every ridge and vein as his cock filled you to the brim.
He soon bottomed out, as your hips settled flush to his. It had you moaning out again.
“Fuck baby, you're so big.” You were trying to give your pussy time to adjust but he snapped his hips up into you, ever impatient.
“Ow, fuck Gator!” you whined out, looking back down to him.
“Quit bein' a fuckin’ cock tease. Bounce Bunny!" He growled.
You raised your hips, obliging him. Alternating between bouncing and grinding.
Sounds of shared pants and moans mixed with your slick cunt filled the room.
“Yeah, mama. That's it. Use my cock. Take what you need. Is’ all yours.” He started blabbering, tuning out half of what he was saying.
“Shut up Gator!” You'd suddenly had enough of his mouth.
You reached over and found what you were looking for, shoving your wadded up panties past his lips. When your taste hit his tongue once more, he couldn't help from moaning around them as his eyes rolled back.
You continued to ride him just the way you both liked. Warmth blooming in your abdomen, but not quite what you needed.
Raising up so you could toy with your clit, you rubbed circles to your aching nub while still trying to maintain a rhythm as you close your eyes focusing on the feeling.
A few more rolls of your hips and well-orchestrated pressure to your bundle of nerves and you were teetering on the edge.
You were wound tight, as the sounds of Gator fighting the fabric still in his mouth started to be more apparent, but you pay it no mind.
You were tipping over the edge once more.
Harder than before, your pussy clenched around him. Almost strangling him, he let out a few more muffled moans, but you knew he hadn't cum.
You rode it out with a few more grinds, your clit now becoming too sensitive. Your body slumped forward, hands splayed out across his chest, as you tried to control your ragged breath.
He was finally able to spit the fabric out with a huff.
“Bunny, look at me.” He spoke.
When you didn't respond right away, he bucked his hips again making you falter, but it gained your attention as you met his eyes.
“Hey! Unlock the cuffs.” His eyes grew darker, he needed to fuck you. Make you fall apart beneath him.
“Now! Get the fuckin' key.” He hissed through gritted teeth.
He was done playing games. You let him slip from you, moving your shaky hand quickly to the side table pulling the drawer open and producing the key.
He watches your every move, eyes full of hunger. The key slid into the lock and unlatched easily. As soon as his wrists were free, he was on you.
He flipped you both easily, so you were now on your back. Knocking your thighs apart to accommodate him, grabbing your hips and pulling you further up he slid his cock back in with one swift push to the hilt.
“Oh… Fuck!” Your back arched, screaming his name as he pulled nearly all the way out only to push back in setting a near brutal pace in your now overstimulated cunt, his head kissing your cervix with each push.
He watched your tits bounce with every thrust, as his eyes slid lower watching his massive dick split you open over and over again. The sight of the creamy ring at the base of his cock from your juices was driving him mad.
Your eyes rolled back, as you fisted the sheets beneath your hands, trying to ground yourself.
He leaned forward, hand moving around your throat pinning you under him.
“Look at you, all dumb on my fuckin' cock. Mmmmm. You… you think it's funny teasin’ me all fuckin’ night?” He asked but knew you were too far gone to actually answer. He couldn't stop the words from spilling out.
“That's it, sweet thing, takin’ this cock so fuckin' well.” He thrusts harshly, making you cry out once more.
He pistons his hips up slightly, so he could abuse that spot inside you he knew would have you seeing stars in no time as you fluttered around him. He tightened his hold on your throat, cutting off your air slightly.
“That's it baby. She's practically sucking me back in now. You can give me one more, right?”
You whimpered.
Unsure if you could but when he started talking to you in that condescending tone and his cock shoved so far up your pussy you could practically feel him rearranging your insides, it really was only a matter of time.
“C’mon baby. Cum with me.” He was watching as your face started contorting, a mix of pain from overstimulation and pleasure. Your mouth fell slack, nothing but whimpers falling from your lips.
“I… I’m close, Bun,” his rhythm faltering slightly.
He raised up, removing his hand from your throat, as you gasped for the air you didn't know you were missing.
He brought his thumb down to your clit, drawing harsh circles.
“Gator, no…ugh... fuck, fuck, fuck.” It was too late. Your orgasm hit you like at full force. You hadn't even felt it building, it was just there.
Your pussy clamped down around him once more as you came with a scream.
“Shitshitshit. There… there she is.” He was able to mumble out as his own release came crashing down.
“Take it all mama. Every single drop. That's what you want, hmmmmm… Fuck… Make sure everyone knows your mine. No one will EVER fuckin' touch you again.”
He filled you, rope after rope painted you from within. He hadn't cum this hard in a long time. He felt like a man possessed, wanting nothing more than to claim you, breed you. Show everyone you were his.
He collapsed on top of you. Head laid on your chest.
You were both sweaty and spent but neither one cared as you both tried to slow your erratic breathing.
Soft pants, shared breaths. He stayed like that for a moment before his softening cock slid from you. He looked up at you then, a small smile and doe eyed.
He began to pepper kisses between your breasts. Lips skimming the various marks that he had left. Kissing the fading red splotches where his hand had been around your throat.
“These are the only kind of marks that are allowed be left on you." He whispered, easing up the rest of the way as he found your lips. You moved languid against each other, savoring the taste of his tongue on yours.
When he’d had his fill he rolled over beside you, pulling you with him.
You laid your head on his chest as he reached down to pull the covers over you both. His arm wrapped around your middle, holding you tightly as he kissed the top of your head.
“You got nothin’ to worry about Bunny. I'll take care of it. Take care of you. Promise.” He whispered, barely hearing him as you let sleep take hold.
You hadn't felt it when he slipped away while you were peacefully off in Dreamland.
Finally returning in the wee hours of the morning with dawn quickly approaching the mattress dipped with his weight as he crawled back in beside you.
He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you back into his chest, as he hid his face in the crook of your neck breathing deeply and releasing a heavy sigh.
And when you both woke with the sun filtering through the curtains you didn't mention his bloodied and bruised knuckles that weren't there the night before.
And when Deputy Shelton hadn't shown up for work the next day or the entire following week, you didn't mention that either. It was none of your business.
#gator tillman x you#gator tillman smut#gator tillman fic#gator tillman#gator tillman fanfiction#gator x reader#gator x fem!reader#gator x bunny#gator x badge bunny#gator tillman x fem!reader#gator tillman x reader#gator tillman x y/n#gator tillman x badge bunny#gator tillman x bunny#fargo season 5#fargo fx#fargo s5#joe keery fargo#gator smut#gator tillman fargo#joe keery#gator tillman imagine
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The Twelfth Night Ball, A Cinderella Story (Henry V x fem! Reader one-shot)
Summary: As a lady turned servant, every day you survive under immense cruelty. Then one day, it is declared the King of England, Henry V, is throwing a ball, looking for a potential bride...
Word Count: 7535 (have snackies)
Warnings: Physical and verbal abuse from the "stepfamily" (this is a Cinderella story after all). Some curse words here and there. Grammar and spelling mistakes that slip past my radar. LOTS of angst, but it becomes tooth-rotting fluff.
A/N: Happy Holiday Season! This was gonna be a Christmas ball but things got busy, so it's Twelfth Night (that was a bigger deal back then, anyway, ehehhe) but I hope you enjoy this any time of the year! Comments, dms, reblogs, and comments about my work are always appreciated!
A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad
Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr @loz-3 @muddyorbsblr
Once upon a time, you were a little child delivered to a house of strangers. Your dear parents, an established lord and lady, both died of a deadly illness that spread. You were separated from them- sparing your life. But without even a final goodbye.
It the Lord and Lady Brentford who took you in, for they were distant relatives. You could still feel the guard's hand, much bigger than your own, support you when the carriage door opened before the Brentford Manor. You stepped out of the carriage and onto their grounds. They looked at you with polite smiles…but nothing warm behind their eyes as they led you in.
It began small. At first, they were merely strict in their lessons with you. As any daughter of a lord. You tried to adapt, to please them. As much as your little eight-year-old self could allow. Even at your best behavior, they always reminded you of one thing: you were mere charity. Their one daughter you had never met. She was sent off to stay in a convent for her education.
It was when you were thirteen that one day, they requested you to move into a shabbier room. The one you slept in had to be used for guests.
Then they kept insisting the servants needed help with things. Mending, cracking eggs, a stone on the floor that needed scrubbing. You wanted to help, to please them. So you said yes.
Then, you realized one day your pretty dresses were gone. They said that what was left of your family's fortune had been spent already. You had to make ends meet, they said, by selling what nice ones you had. Leaving you with only servants' clothes.
Then, finally, when you were fourteen, you went down after helping cook breakfast. To eat with them…and there were only two chairs at the table.
“Where may I…I sit?” you asked.
The Lord glared up at you.
“You do not eat with us.”
“But…you are my guardians,” you replied.
He snorted. “You. Family?”
His eyes were cold.
“You were never our family, girl,” Lady Brentford agreed.
The stomach within you dropped. Hot tears welled up.
“Bring us our bread, girl.” she ordered.
“If…If my father was alive, he-”
Lord Brentford stood up.
“He is dead. Are you going to keep talking or should I get the horsewhip to get you to shut up? Bring. Us. Our. Meal.”
You went back, sobbing hot tears. Then delivered their meal to them. Banished. No longer as a member of the family. Or of any family that wanted you, loved you. You were unloved. Unwanted.
The Lord and Lady threatened to throw you out if you ran away resisted, or fought back. To beg on the streets. Or whore to survive. So you were stuck as a servant.
And so your life as a servant began for years here. Some of them gaped at first- the Lady Y/L/N turned into a drudgery maid. They pitied you. They did not laugh at you for not knowing initially how to cook an egg but would show you how. They let you hug them and cry and rage. Only in private. For all knew how the Lord and Lady reacted to defiance. You got to know them and talk to them, It was Miss Anne who would give you oranges when they were in season to bite into. It was Mr. Page who would show you the secret bird's nest when you had to gather the apples in the orchard. Their kindness was appreciated.
There was one other consolation in your life- the Brentford’s only daughter, Jane. The time arrived when her long stay at the convent for her education was done. She was considered of age to be married and she moved back. A woman of your age, your very height and size but with pale skin, long chestnut hair, and bright green eyes.
After Jane got home, you brought her some food to her room but found she wasn’t there. You saw her outside in the garden climbing an apple tree in bloom to gather the fruit and flowers. As she stepped on one branch, it broke beneath her weight. With a scream she fell a great distance, breaking her leg. At once, you alerted the servants and helped her in. It was you who stayed by her side, nursing her until she healed.
Since then, a friendship began between you both.
Lady Jane was the sort who became a very different person than her parents. She was kind. If you brought something a little late, she gave you no chiding. Jane was always getting into some sort of mischief, for sometimes she would scrape her hand or burn something, and you would patch her up.
You became each other’s confidantes…and then she considered you not as a servant, but an equal. You were sometimes tasked to be with her, and those were the easiest- delivering her correspondence two and fro, brushing her hair, and dressing her. Even picking flowers for her room to cheer her. Jane loved animals and her pride and joy was her mare, Psyche, who you would be tasked to feed and brush.
It was only a shame she had no interest in marriage or even romance. If only she got married so you could become her chambermaid and live far away from this place! But no. She refused to be forced into a marriage. You were amazed at her bravery to refuse her parents boldly. However, she was their natural daughter and a Lady. She had the privilege to rebel. You did not.
Sometimes you wished you were her, you had to admit. Jane was something of a recluse, not wanting to go to balls and parties and be out in society. Her beautiful dresses only caught her mild interest, preferring riding her mare, her books, climbing trees, and talking with the servants despite her parent's protests.
You wished she’d say yes to one ball- how beautiful it must be to wear a gown and dance the dances you were taught when your parents lived! And to maybe have men show interest in you and show up to see you- to be considered and wanted for marriage by some good-looking, nice lord!
But…what money your family left for your dowry was left to the Brentfords….who naturally spent it for their desires until you had none left. Without even a dowry, you would be considered useless for any Lord’s bride.
Maybe not marriage…but perhaps, as you looked at the married couple kept as servants here- Mr. and Mrs. Kent. Saw them hold hands and exchange small kisses in hallways and smile…love. To be loved. To fall in love. To find romance. Somehow. Something you had never heard, experienced, and could only yearn for in your deepest heart…perhaps there was someone out there who could love you…
But perhaps that was only for daydreams and for sad romances with Knights pining for already married ladies. Much less a scullery maid.
❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜
One December morning, you spent one of the few hours you had alone walking in the woods. You reached the clearing of a field not far away. The Natural spot was so peaceful. No Lord or Lady Brentford. No threats. No names. Just the early winter morning.
You shivered in your dress. It was all you had on you.
That morning, you awoke to see the Lady Brentford. You did not mend her skirts to her liking. So she went to your room and in revenge, ripped apart your only cloak. She tossed it at you.
“There. Until you learn how to mend clothes the right way, stupid girl.”
You only held the torn cloak, tears pouring down over it.
The sun was bright, and the grass frosted. The world was brisk and cold, but it got warm after exercise. The sun was bright. Your breath comes out in puffs of smoke.
Suddenly, you heard horse hooves. Turning your head, you jumped to see a great white stallion galloping and on top of it was a man in a red cloak. You took a few steps in retreat.
Before you could have a good look at the rider, the horse suddenly stopped and bucked, his front hooves in the air with a whinny. It was so sudden, that with a masculine shout, his rider fell off of his horse onto the grass.
You let out a gasp-was he injured? Yes, this was a stranger. And a man. And you were alone. But he could use the help! And if he was injured, he couldn’t hurt you!
“Sir, sir, are you hurt?” you cried, picking up your skirt to go there to see him.
Up got the man with a small grunt.
You finally saw his face and you felt yourself stiffen.
He was incredibly handsome. Young with high cheekbones and a high forehead. Auburn curls and trim facial hair with soft blue eyes and ivory skin. Tall and lean yet muscular and broad. Virile and powerful, but an air of charm, and elegance to him, though you could not name why you could tell.
He managed to get up and wipe off his dirt on him, looking at you. He smiled, hands up in pace.
“I am alright! I’ve suffered worse!” he assured you.
“Are you sure?” you asked.
“Of course, my lady!” he replied, bowing his head.
You felt yourself go warm. You had not been called “my lady” in years. Much less by a handsome man!
You then saw the horse a small distance away. Trotting off. The man whistled, but the horse did not respond.
You knew you had to feed Psyche later today. Her carrots were in your pocket. You pulled one out and lured it over. Surely, the white stallion walked over. Once you fed him the carrot, you pulled him by the reigns over to the man.
“Thank you- he’s not used to me. A rather naughty fellow, but he shall be my good friend long enough,” the man laughed.
“If you give him enough treats, I’m sure he will be your friend quickly.”
“Thank you, my lady, you’re very kind. Do you need assistance getting home?” he asked.
For you to go home with a man?! They would think something less than chaste was happening out there. Especially since you were both a woman and a servant. Whores and thieves, that was what all thought maids to be.
“No thank you, I do not live too far,” you explained.
The sun went behind a cloud, giving it a slight chill. Though there was concern on his handsome face.
“But without a cloak?” he asked, tilting his head.
“I…I have no cloak I may use and I wanted to walk. I could brave the cold. Once one moves about, it does get warm,” you told him.
“Here, my lady…”
He took off his red cloak and put it over you You let out a small gasp. Feeling his hands brush past your shoulders as he sealed the clasp. It was so large it felt warm on you- the heat of his body and his scent still on it.
“Sir- this is too much!” you gasped.
“No, you may have it. I have a dozen others and you have none,” he refused, a kind smile on his face.
It was like an embrace. You touched the material, feeling it in your hands. It was high-quality cloth, likely expensive from the bright red. He must be some great lord who happened to ride by.
In his nice red leather jacket (it hugged his lean but broad form very nicely, you noted, feeling a sudden heat in you) he swung himself back up on the white stallion.
“Thank you, dear lady. For your concern to me.”
“And thank you, my lord, for your generous gift,” you replied.
“Farewell for now.”
He smiled at you, nodding his head, and then he rode off. You couldn’t help but watch him as he left.
You burst into giggles as you walked through the forest, feeling as if you could float from such an encounter with such a handsome man. For one brief moment, the love story you craved had happened. You drew the cloak around you. Your mind racing with fantasies of an actual embrace from him. Or even more- if he kissed you!
You returned very warm. You folded the cloak and set it down among your things, even the torn-up cloak. You smiled- always keeping that memory in your heart. You would make sure to guard it carefully. But even if the Brentfords tore it up, they could never tear up your memory, your moment, your encounter with this dream of a man. Or your hope that you would someday see him again.
❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜
The next day, amidst the fasting and preparations for the Christmastide season, there was a messenger who arrived at the door. He was dressed in fine reds and handed one male servant the letter. Up the servant came as you attended to the Brentfords. Eating their breakfast of simpler fare than they would like.
The servant looked flushed and wide-eyed. He held up the letter, declaring “My lord- it is an invitation from the king!”
There were gasps around the table. From none other than the king! The newly crowned Henry the Fifth. Lady Brentford grabbed it and opened it, reading it aloud.
“We do cordially invite all eligible, unmarried ladies of this household to attend the ball hosted by the king on Twelfth Night. Each lady shall be introduced to his majesty the king in addition to a night of dancing, feasting, and frivolity.”
Eyes went wide. You felt your heart begin to pound in your chest.
“Oh! A ball! How wonderful!” cried the Lady Brentford.
“To have him write us alone is an honor!” agreed the Lord. Though their eyes turned greedily to their daughter. Lady Jane stopped eating her bread, it nearly dropped on her plate.
You looked up from where you poured more drink into Jane’s cup.
“If he is asking to be introduced to eligible maidens...it means only one thing…” Jane began. Her face turned white, her appetite gone.
“He is looking for a bride! Oh, could you imagine? Our Jane- Wife to the King and Queen of England?”
Jane gripped the edges of the table.
“Mother, father, please- I don’t want to go. Please. There are plenty of other women who would be more happy to be there than me! I don’t want to be sold like cattle to a man I don’t know, please! And I hear he was a drunkard and a thief- I don’t want to marry a man like that, please!” Jane pleaded.
“And risk losing the chance to become queen? Besides, we hear he’s a young, comely man, it could be worse! There are lots of old men we could consider marrying you off to! You must go!” argued Lord Brentford
You stepped forward.
“What if…I went instead of Jane?” you asked meekly.
Eyes turned to you, but you stood your ground.
“It said all eligible, unmarried ladies. I shall go in Jane’s place, so she doesn’t have to,” you said, a sudden rush of boldness in you. Perhaps it was the incident with the man the other day. You always wanted to go to a ball. And to go to a royal one was an honor.
Their heads turned.
“It shall break sumptuary laws for a maid to dress in finery. They could fine you. Or worse.” sneered Lord Brentworth.
“But I am Lady Y/L/N, like my mother was before me,” you blurted.
The Lord Brentford got up and slapped you hard across the face.
Your eyes brimmed with tears, feeling the sting of the impact.
“You are our servant and you will remember your place! And will hold your tongue and stay where you are, impertinent, foolish girl!”
You held your cheek, keeping your eyes down. The Lord continued.
“To think. You. A king’s bride- a queen? Yes, women like you were offered to him as whores, but I doubt he’d even want your filth in his bed, much less as his wife. You’d be lucky to polish his boots.”
They sat down, glaring at you.
“Now, there is laundry to be finished. And we have a ball to prepare Jane for- you must do it.”
You turned away, so they wouldn’t see you. You reached the smaller room for laundry. Where you could finally crumple to the ground and sob.
❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜
Jane’s dress purchased for the ball was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.
It was a creamy white with pearl embellishments. Richly made, beautiful. It shimmered in the light and seemed to glow when it became dark. Everyone smiled big at it as it was brought up. But the envy and greed in your heart stirred, making you feel heavy and bitter. Sometimes, You forced your eyes away from it.
Christmastide arrived. With it numerous feasts. Some drinking and exchanging of gifts. The Lord and Lady were in sour moods but only softened when discussing their ambitions for their reluctant daughter.
Before you knew it, the new year arrived and the fifth of January. The day before the ball.
Jane looked at the dress laid out on her bed. You had merely sat on a chair behind her, mending her stockings. Everything in you not to cry.
“It is beautiful, I will admit. But…I have met cats more pleasant to talk to than some of the lords that will be there,” she sighed. “I love gossip and a nice meal as much as anyone else, but…how horrid I am at dancing! I know I will step on all of my poor partner's toes tomorrow night!”
Finally overcome, you set the stockings down.
“Jane, how can you say such things? Don’t you realize how fortunate you are?! Just merely go and enjoy yourself and think of your blessings!” you blurted out.
She turned to you. You were tearing up.
“I’m so sorry, I’ll be quiet now-” you apologized.
“Y/N, you know I’m not my parents. I won’t punish you for being honest. What is it? You’re crying, tell me!” she asked. She walked away from you and knelt as you sat.
She gave you a handkerchief and you began to wipe away your tears. Her eyes looked concerned.
“You’ll laugh at me,” you mused.
“I will not. Tell me what troubles you,” she offered.
You gripped the handkerchief in your hands, squeezing it for support as you began to confess.
“I wish I could be you. To go to a ball and to meet a king and dance. To feel equal to the other ladies who get to be introduced to him. Yes, becoming queen does sound like a nice dream. But, it’s not just that…I just…always wanted to try a pretty dress and not have to spend my nights working. If my parents lived, I would have experienced one. If the Lord and Lady weren’t who they are, I would have, but now……”
She hugged you in comfort.
“Oh, I’m a selfish being, I am! I am so sorry, poor Y/N! I’ll be more careful, I swear it!”
You hugged her back. Then she looked at the dress, then you. There was a look in her face- a light in her eyes. One that could only be when she had an idea.
“Jane…what are you thinking of?” you asked.
“What if…you were the one to go? Wear the dress and attend the party? ” she asked.
“What! What if- what if they catch us? We’ll get in trouble! There will be other balls!" you cried.
“There won’t be other royal balls. And I know how every servant hates my parent and they love you! Please, we can trust them!”
“But…will they watch?”
“My mother and father are rather fond of strong wine on Twelfth Night….”
You felt your heart race.
“You said you always wanted to. And you should go. We’ll switch clothes in case they wake up! They’ll be too drunk anyway. And you know it is a royal carriage they are lending us with a royal driver and footman- they won’t know you! Would you like that?” she continued.
You paused, your heart racing.
“You are a lady- you must accept it. Here- we shall keep it between us. We shall ask only a few servants…you will go to accompany me and wait- then we shall switch clothes. I shall be the maid to attend on you and you the lady! That way, if Mother and Father arrive in my room, they’ll see me gone and won’t suspect a thing!”
She was getting more excited, pacing about and talking. But then she turned to you.
“But…that is only if you want. It’s just an idea," Jane offered.
Your heart beat hard. A chance. It made you scared. You could get in trouble…but you never wanted to so badly to do it. You would go. Or die trying. At least once, you would fight for something you wanted.
“Jane, I accept your plan. Let’s make it happen.”
❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜
At last, it was Twelfth Night finally arrived. You and the other servants managed to get the Lord and Lady Brentford so drunk, they were laughing and red-faced. Jane was presented in her pretty dress and curtsied for their applause. Then they had to go to bed to sleep it off. It would be minutes until the carriage arrived.
Jane grabbed your hand.
“Now, haste!” she hissed.
You raced to her room. She took off the dress, the servants all helping. She got into your plain dress and apron easily. You were given her fine necklace and her rings. Her little silvery slippers fit your feet perfectly. Then, at last, the dress was slipped over your head and sealed. It adjusts perfectly to your body. There was a soft gasp from one servant as they looked at you. Their eyes were made big and there were smiles.
“Is it…bad?” you asked.
“No…look,” Jabe offered, gesturing to the mirror in her room.
You hardly recognized the reflection.
You were radiant- the way its color complimented you. It brought out your eyes and your skin seemed to glow almost. The gems sparkled as if they were stars adorned on your chest and fingers.
“I…I look…” you muttered.
“I’ll say it- you look beautiful,” Jane said.
“Fie, Lady Y/L/N looks quite like a princess! They’ll think she’s sailed from France and my, won’t that be something!” agreed one servant.
The carriage arrived. You both stepped forward. A footman in his finest gave came forth and helped you both into the carriage- the Lady and her maid. Then off it went. There was snow on the ground that shone in the darkness as it went forth.
The stone castle arrived. You both were helped off. You could hardly believe it. It was at least three times the size of the Brentford Manor! Picking up your skirt, you went with Jane behind you.
There was already laughter and music. You could smell spices that made your mouth water.
You entered forth, seeing the torches lit around. There was a warm orange light. Part of the hall was cleared so couples could dance. Chatter erupted and wine flowed. You even felt eyes on you, admiring you in your dress. Though, you saw a line of women before one end of the room. The women to be introduced to the king.
“Lie to him, tell him you’re Lady Brentford!” advised Jane.
“I cannot lie to the king. Not without getting into trouble. I’ll only tell him my family name.” you said.
“S’blood, you are right there…best of luck!” she wished as she headed to help herself to the feast.
So all came forward to be introduced. Each lady. You all were smiling. You managed to chat with several by you. All excited and trying to suppress giggling. But it was brief, as there were many women. Apparently, according to them, you just told him your name, curtsied, and perhaps exchanged a sentence or two. Then you were dismissed for the next woman. Nothing more, nothing less. The line went lower- you were happy to chat with them all. But all stilled as they got closer to the curtsy.
Then, before you knew it, it was down to the last three ladies before you. Then two. Then the last one turned and you faced the King of England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales.
There, on the throne, sat the man who fell from his horse.
The king?! The king!? The entire time it was the king! Oh God’s blood! He was the king! Harry of England! I have a cloak from none other than the king! You panicked internally. Though your body tightened.
Your skin tingled and a coldness hit your stomach when you saw him. Your hands were suddenly clammy. The wind was out of you.
Henry the Fifth of England sat rigid. You saw his jaw drop a little and his face go pale. He too was in surprise.
Then he let out a small half laugh, a shaky smile growing on his face.
You gathered yourself together. Then, taking in a breath to ground yourself, you announced.
“I am Lady Y/F/N Y/L/N, your highness,” you introduced. Dipping into a curtsy.
He gestured his hand up to stop you from leaving. Your eyes fluttered down, folding your hands properly. Your heart hammered as he walked up, taking your chin and tilting it up. Your heart beat even harder. It was a miracle you were still standing.
He smiled, almost ironically.
“How are you, Lady Y/L/N?” he asked.
“Well, your grace.” you replied.
“Do you have a partner for the next dance?” he asked.
“No, your grace.”
“I believe I have sat long enough. I would like a dance with you, my lady, if you will have me, ” he offered. He extended his hand to you.
“You may, my lord,” you replied. Despite the slight trepidation, you accepted it.
He smiled at you, leading you down to the floor. You heard gasps, whispers, and saw many eyes staring. Some of the women from the line turning red as strawberries, fumes practically blaring out at them. You kept your eyes away from it all. Only at the floor, then up to him.
“I must warn you, I have no strength in dancing,” he warned you.
“Then perhaps this is only a practice dance, your grace,” you replied.
The couples went into lines. You curtsied and bowed. Took hands, walking back and forth. You realized Henry sometimes mixed up counts, but he was definitely not the worst. You smiled at him.
“How is your stallion, my lord?” you asked.
“He listens to me more. Would you like to know why?” he asked.
“Why?”
He turned to you in the dance.
“He cannot resist being given food. And that I learned from a certain lady I met,” he answered.
You grinned up at him. The dance continued. You found your eyes could not lower from his. Yet you knew the steps, knew every one. You were almost floating. As he touched your hand and would lead you, it seemed he was getting better with each other count of the music. You could feel how soft his hands were, how warm. Sense his presence, his steps. Feel the tingles from his touch, from when he looked at you. For a while, it was as if you were the only ones dancing.
Before you knew it, your dance with the king ended. He bowed and you curtsied. He then turned to line of women.
“I shall meet all of you, and shall spare a few dances, sweet, fair ladies,” he promised.
That seemed to appease them- you couldn’t blame them in the slightest.
Jane was already there to fetch you food and drinks now that she was satiated. To make sure all in your attire was well and good, ever the one to accompany a lady to make sure nothing less than chaste was occurring.
As the line shortened, you did notice Henry dancing with a few other ladies. Though there was a slight pang of jealousy, you did your best to ignore it for the other delights of the party- the rich decorations, the sumptuous food, the sweet sips of wine. Besides, as you got to know plenty of people here, men and women, young and old, married or unmarried, you found them all kind and friendly to you. Your fellow eligible ladies befriended you as one among them, not as a rival to be torn apart. None even suspecting you were a servant- only a fellow and equal guest of this ball. Even seeing if you could come to this dinner or this ball in the future or visit. You were making friends outside of your small circle. Friends who wanted you to be with them.
Though you found that since the king had danced with you, you got attention from several other men. And there were more dances you had with them. They were handsome and some were lovely dancers in all. Though one gentleman with scruffy red hair and boyish freckles seemed stiff as a board as you danced with him.
“What is it, my lord?” you asked.
“His grace, the king, is staring-” he whispered.
“He watches everything that goes on,” you dismissed as you took and retook hands in the dance.
“Not at me. He’s stared at you the entire night,” he grumbled.
As your eyes flashed, you saw it was true. Henry’s eyes were on you. Floating up to meet yours again. Recatching your breath, you made yourself focus again on the dance until it ended.
As soon it ended, the king approached you.
“May I have another dance, my lady?” he asked.
After you accepted, he did not hesitate to lead you on the floor. This time, not a single word passed. You felt his eyes, and noticed his touch more. You felt very warm all over all of a sudden. His dancing was better, no counts or steps missed at all. You had to catch your breath from his quiet intensity. Before you knew it, it ended.
The king allowed the party to go on, but asked to speak to you in private. Jane was there to chaperone in the back. Her eyes big as you knew it was everything in her not to say or react to something. She merely folded her hands and watched in awe and suppressed laughter.
“I know you…we met before, Lady Y/L/N” he said.
“We have, my lord.”
“And you truly did not have a cloak at all, my lady?” he asked, noticing your fine gown.
“If I may be honest…it was destroyed by someone in an act of cruelty,” you replied.
His brow furrowed a little in response.
“But I am grateful his majesty was generous to give me his, I am,” you assured him.
“You are…and you live with this cruel person?”
You let out a slight sigh.
“I only wish I could…I could be like you in your wars and fight as you do with France. I’m not a brave person, your grace.” you replied.
His blue eyes softened.
“I wish it hadn’t happened to you. You do not deserve it."
“She would disagree,” you mused.
“No! You are a good lady-you have been nothing but the sweetest maid I have met, even that morning!” he cried.
You felt yourself get a little dizzy at his words. He even blushed, then he looked at you.
“ Perhaps, like my dancing, you may practice being brave.”
“I…I believe I could, my lord,” you replied.
He offered his hand again. How lovely the garden looked with the snow, cooling you from all the exercise with dancing. Already it was late-the ball was winding down.
“I enjoyed my time with you, my lady Y/L/N.”
“As have I, my lord…”
There was the pealing of a bell. The time was winding down. A servant went up and whispered to Jane. She hurried up.
“Our carriage is about to leave, my lady,” she said.
She turned back to the corner, watching the party guests begin to leave. But…Henry’s hand in yours…nothing ever felt so…so right. You hadn’t the heart to flee him. Not with the sad look on his face.
“The Y/L/N family…that is a house that is of good repute, but small. Where is your father, my lady? Is he here tonight?” he asked.
You only eyed back at the vanishing crowd. “He…he is not here,” you finally answered.
You felt emotions bubbling in you. He let go and you began to increase your steps from him. But then he grabbed your hand and you turned.
“My lord!” you cried.
“Please, tell me one thing- where can I call on you? Invite you? Find you? See you again?” he asked, almost pleading.
The look in his eyes was almost heartbreaking. Though Jane was getting huffy and impatient, you went up to him, your voice a whisper.
“I live in the Brentford Manor, with the Lord and Lady there.” you replied.
His jaw hung a little loose. Then his hand let you go. They both hung in the air until they fell.
“I shall see you anon then, my lady.”
“I shall see you anon then, my lord.”
With that, you left, picking up your skirts to hurry to the carriage.
As soon as you got into the carriage with Jane and closed the door, she laughed and applauded.
“Not one but two dances with the king?! Oh fie! How incredible! And you met him already?!”
The carriage jerked into motion as it headed back to the manor. Breathlessly, you explained everything to her.
“Am I in danger?” you asked.
“In danger of making him fall for you! But at least one day you’ll have the most incredible story to tell your children! How glad I am it all worked!” she laughed.
When you returned at the ungodly hour, you hurried to her room and switched clothes. Yet your head was still ringing and your heart beating fast, your mind and body still reeling until it could shut down for a little sleep. You wished you could write it all down- of your one night where you danced with the king.
❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜
It was four days since Twelfth Night and the Tenth day of the new year. You had to content yourself with your life as a servant. The Lord and Lady were of a milder temper. As far as they knew, Jane introduced herself and curtsied before the king and that was it.
That morning, you were serving their breakfast. You cut the bread into slices and brought it up to the table to the family. They placed it down, the knife still on there with the other cutlery.
There was a knock. Heads turned. A servant ran over in.. Red cheeked and breathless, his voice a high cry.
“His Majesty, the king, is here!” he yelled.
There was half a scream and Lady Jane nearly dropped her plate out of her hands. There was a flutter like no other, making sure all was clean and presentable.
“He’s here for you- I know it! He’s here for you!” cried the Lady Brentford.
She began pinching her daughters cheeks to make them redder and prettier in her eyes and fussing and whispering. One heard the marching of boots. Your own heart beat harder than it ever had and you shook as you tried with the other servants to dress the place up.
Finally, a servant announced his presence and all stood up. In, sure enough, walked King Henry in his beautiful red leathers and his crown. Your breath stopped as you noticed a little bouquet of flowers in his hands.
All bowed and curtsied respectfully, then returned to await what he would say.
Henry took off his crown and handed it to a servant. Then he looked around the crowd. You didn’t know if you wanted to shrink or run or both.
“I am here for the Lady Y/L/N. Does she reside here?” he asked.
Their lips curled. They gasped.
“Her-her??” Lady Brentford cried.
The Lord Brentford turned her head to you, his nose flaring. His hands reaching forward, ready to grab you, drag you by the ear to be beaten, box an answer out of you.
“What have you done with the king, you little slut?!”
There was a shift in that second, some of Henry’s guards, even Henry himself was ready to intervene.
Acting quickly, quicker than you ever had, You reached for the table and got the knife, pointing it to Lord Brentford.
“Do not lay a hand on me or you won’t have one!” you rebuked.
Henry stepped forward, his voice angry.
“Lord Brentford, Are you going to deny the King an answer to his question?” he asked.
Heads turned over to you. Jane was smiling seeing the knife still in your hand. Then the Lord Brentford relented and gestured to you.
“She lives here, your majesty.”
Setting the knife back down on the table, you were gestured to step forward and curtsy. He looked at you in your servant's clothes which made your stomach twist in shame. But you held your own ground, poised with folded hands and kept your eyes up at him.
“May I have a word with her in private, Lord Brentford?” he asked.
They all bowed and relented- his servants to accompany you.
He stepped forth and seemed to blush as he handed you the flowers.
“These are for you, my lady” he said.
“They’re beautiful, thank you,” you replied. You took the bouquet in your hands, feeling it’s sweet scent.
His hands free, you saw him clench and unclench his fists nervously.
“Fair lady-I do not know how to say this. I’m not good with words, or speaking with women…” he began.
That itself made you smile.
“Lady Y/L/N, I am a king…and I am a man too. And I speak to you as one now. Should you refuse, I shall never bother you again. But if you shall, would you allow a hardened soldier to speak of tenderness and affection? To spend time to know this lady and plead his cause to her heart? I offer my friendship at least. At most, as your suitor. Only if you shall have me, Harry of England, as yours. To pursue you, ask for you, care for you. To court you, not as king and subject, but as a man and a woman, only if you accept me. What say you, dearest, fairest lady?”
You brimmed with joy. You felt a free hand clutch your chest, wondering if this was even real. But you knew who was the one in fine leather and who was the one in simple cloth.
“My lord, I must tell you something…”
He nodded, listening. You took in a breath and began.
“I am the Lady Y/L/N. My parents died and their fortune dwindled. Leaving me with nothing but the title and what dignity we had left. As you can see, the house of Brentford took me in. But other than the kindness shown by their daughter, the Lord and Lady…do not consider me family. They have made me a servant here and I have worked as one since I was very young. If you are willing to court a lady with nothing but an empty title and a heart full of affection for you, you may. If not, I shall let you go. I shall not begrudge or ask you to change your ways. I understand them. I have nothing to offer to you that you may benefit- no lands, no armies, no alliances, and most of all, no dowry.”
“My lady, you yourself are a dowry,” Henry replied.
A gasp escaped you and you felt everything inside you become warm.
He offered your hand. And you placed yours in it.
“Then…I Accept you as my suitor, my lord.” you said.
He smiled even wider, putting his other hand over yours.
“We have a special dinner prepared in the palace. Would you dine with me?” he asked.
“I shall be glad to…I only ask one thing and one thing in turn in our courtship. This and nothing else…I only ask for shelter. For an escape from this place. To stay in a different home far from Lord and Lady Brentford. You saw what happened-this has been my life for many long years. I want to leave this place, to no longer be under their power. But give only the dearest blessing to their daughter, the lady Jane, and their servants, for without their help the years would have been unbearable…and we would not have crossed paths again. If you cannot grant me shelter from the Lord and Lady, then protection from them,” you requested.
He clutched your hands a little tighter, almost shaking them.
“I shall my lady, you need not be afraid of the Lord and Lady anymore. I will fulfill your wish…and you shall be safe. I shall do everything in my power…may I kiss your hand?”
“Yes.”
He took your hand and kissed it gently, and sweetly. His goatee tickling a little of your skin and his lips soft.
He asked his servants to gather your things, quickly. Much to the astonishment of the whole house. But none dare resist the orders of the king.
“You shall stay as a guest of the palace until a family, a new one, may take you in. I promise, there are plenty who shall not treat you as they have,” he vowed.
He looked at you with a smile. You then went to your room and wrapped the warm red cloak over you. Then, right before the door, stood the family. You embraced each servant as they congratulated you. Then you went to you hugged Jane with a smile.
“Oh, I feel like I am abandoning you!” you sighed.
“Oh no! Do not fret! I can handle my parents, I will not let my them break me. I will fight them every step of the way. Just write to me often, promise.”
“This wouldn’t have happened without you, I am forever in your debt, Jane.” you replied.
“You already helped heal my leg back then. Then your friendship is the only credit I shall ask for.” she replied.
You hugged again as a goodbye.
You then turned to the Lord and Lady Brentford. They did not speak, but you did.
“I shall never forget your cruelty. Your harshness. I held my tongue to survive-but now I can speak. I do not love either of you. I dislike you both more than any person in the world. If anyone asks me of you, I shall tell them everything you said and did to me, for it is the truth. Of the names you called me, the things of mine you destroyed, and of the times you beat me and broke me. And do not think, should the day ever come that God makes me queen, that you shall receive any help from me. I shall never step foot in this place again or call on you.From this day on, I do not know who either of you are. You are both cruel, heartless, selfish miscreants. May you answer to God and only He may show you any mercy He deigns you both to deserve. You shall have none from me.”
King Henry offered you his arm and you took it. How warm it felt-you could feel his muscles beneath his leathers, but how smooth it was and how pleasant he even smelled!
“Now…are you ready my lady?” he asked.
You only looked back at the place, and the people standing there. Then back at the handsome, kind face of your regal suitor.
“I am, my most gracious Lord.”
He walked you to outside the door where the carriage awaited. The snow falling gently, blanketing the world in soft, white blankets.
“When we are alone…would you call me Harry? Henry perhaps, too,” he replied.
“Yes, Henry,” you replied.
He blushed a little to hear his name. He were helped into the carriage next to him.
Henry smiled at you kindly as he sat next to you.
“Thank you. For everything” you wished him.
“Of course, Y/F/N.”
You could have melted how he said your first name. He then held up your hand again and gave it another peck from his lips.
“My, you like to hold and kiss my hand, Henry!” you teased.
“If only it wasn’t so easy to hold and dear to kiss!” he replied with a smile.
Your eyes forward, not daring to look back. Only forward as the carriage moved away. One part of your life ending and another beginning. To live a new life from now on.
A life where you were finally loved.
#the hollow crown#the hollow crown henry iv part 1#fanfiction#hollow crown henry v#william shakespeare#shakespeare#Henry V x reader#Henry V x fem! Reader#Henry V x y/n#Henry V x you#Henry V fluff#Henry V angst#tom hiddleston characters#angst with a happy ending#prince hal#prince hal x reader#prince hal imagine#prince hal fanfiction#henry v imagine#henry v fanfiction#henry v fanfic#henry v x you#henry v x reader#tom hiddleston#hiddlesverse#carrie writes#herny v x fem! reader#tom hiddleston henry v
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Last Updated: 2023-12-23
Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Prince Hal/Henry V stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.
Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning
❆ Twelve Days of Christmas￨Prt. II￨Prt. III￨Prt. IV￨Prt. V￨Prt. VI￨Prt. VII￨Prt. VIII￨ by smolvenger • 18+ • 〔F᜶A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "You must face your first royal holiday celebration —the Twelve days from Christmas to Epiphany —for your first time as the bride and queen of the new, young King Henry V, a man you were arranged to marry, a man you hardly know."
❆ Green Sleeves by just-the-hiddles • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •
Summary: "Hal should be at the royal residence for the holiday but is instead at a local inn with Falstaff and Poins. He has his eyes on you."
See Also: Navigation || Prince Hal/Henry V Master Index
Authors: @just-the-hiddles || @smolvenger ||
#Prince Hal x Reader#Prince Hal x Female Reader#Prince Hal x Y/N#Prince Hal x You#Henry V x Reader#Henry V x Female Reader#Henry V x Y/N#Henry x You#Tom Hiddleston x Reader#Tom Hiddleston x Female Reader#Tom Hiddleston x Y/N#Tom Hiddleston x You#The Hollow Crown Fanfiction#The Hollow Crown Fanfic#Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction#Tom Hiddleston Fanfic
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Brother's Best Friend, pt 1
JOSH KISZKA X FEMALE READER
A/N: Hey guys! Happy Valentine’s Day! For those of you (me) who don’t have a Valentine and need a little spice, here's a two part series I'm gonna do:) I've had this idea forever and I'm so glad with the way it turned out. As always, this stuff is unedited.
Word Count: 4.9k
WARNINGS: 18+ this is very very dirty! graphic sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), LOTS of dirty talk and praise bc I love it, oral sex (m/f/ rec), face riding, fingering, slight hair pulling, slapping, slight choking, language, cum play if you squint, some degradation, minor cock warming, small daddy kink, p in v, dom (m) sub (f), fluff. Sorry if I missed any!
┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛
Your feet splash through the puddles of water resting on the cement. Rain drizzles down from above you, thunder crashing around you like drums in a rock n’ roll song. You cross your arms over your skimpy top you had been dying to wear for weeks and choke back another sob.
It’s late, probably around midnight. You left the party ten minutes ago after a run in with your older brother, Henry. You two had always been close growing up. But the older you got, the more controlling he became. You had only had one boyfriend your whole highschool career. Even though Henry was three years over you and graduated long before you did, he still managed to scare everyone off. Even tonight, even though you’re a twenty year old woman, he still glared at every guy who came remotely close to you.
“Men only want one thing.” He’d say after you’d beg him to stop interfering with your life. “As your brother, it’s my job to look after you.”
That’s how every conversation went. Every conversation up until tonight. Tonight, you’d finally had enough. After Henry shooed off your pursuer for the night, you’d marched over to him, anger bubbling in your blood.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you started.
“Y/N, what?” He played dumb.
“Why do you always have to control my every move? I’m a grown adult, I can fuck who I want!”
“Yeah, clearly,” he snorted.
“The fuck does that mean?” You raised your voice.
“Oh yeah, as if I have no idea about what happened on your senior prom night.” he took a drink from a can of beer in his hand.
You pause. “How-”
“Doesn’t matter. Whatever. I was trying to protect you from this kind of stuff, but seeing you’re a fucking slut anyways, what’s the point?” he growled.
His words slashed through the temporary walls you had built on the way over to talk to him. This man, your brother, who you had grown up with and loved your whole life, was slut shaming you. You could barely stand as your knees began to womble. Without another word you rushed out the front door.
Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea, seeing it was storming and you came to the party with Henry. But at the time, nothing was worse than staying there and facing his hurtful words. With his friends around him, you felt outnumbered and solemnly betrayed. It was better this way, although, you were pretty sure you felt worse about the whole thing than he did.
Now, the rain picks up again and drenches your already shivering body. Your hair is a wet mess on your head. You rub your eyes, smearing mascara even further. Fuck it. You don’t care.
You jump as you hear a car approaching behind you. Your heart pounds in your chest as you tell yourself it’s just passing by. When it slows, your body freezes in its place.
“Y/N?” a familiar voice strikes into the night. You turn around to see Josh, your brother’s best friend, driving behind you. His head sticks out the window, a worried expression on his face. “I thought that was you.”
You stand in silence, unsure of what to do. You’ve known Josh since you were a kid. But he’s only been a side character in your life. He was always there, but he never did anything significant. Occasionally, he would drive you to places because you were too scared to get your license. He’d help you with your homework and eat dinner with your family at least once a week. But you’d never really considered yourself friends. Especially after he started dating your mortal enemy his senior year. But that ended soon after it started. You never hated him, your feelings for him were the exact opposite actually.
Like any younger sister would, you developed a crush on your big brother’s best friend. There was just something different about him. The way he talked about stuff he enjoyed and remembered the little things that mattered to the people around him. It didn’t hurt that he was good looking as well. Your crush only intensified as you got older. It went from a harmless crush to an ache in your lower abdomen. Of course, nothing ever became of it as you were a few years younger than him. Once you turned 18 you were anxious to tell him how you felt, but as his band grew, you overheard him and his twin discussing.
“No distractions, Jake. If this is what we want, we need to put all of our energy into it.” Josh said, his hand carefully resting on his brother's arm. “That means no women.”
It was never meant to be, and you accepted it. Things got easier as you both gradually went your separate ways. Slowly, he stopped coming to dinners every week. It became a holiday tradition for him to appear, smiles on his face and gifts in hand. You started college and soon, your feelings for Josh weren’t as evident. That was, until you saw him again. Then, all the feelings and reasons on why you loved him came rushing back.
It happened every time, so you weren’t surprised to feel everything again when he came to the party tonight after his six month tour. He looked refreshed and well rewarded. All it did was remind you how happy he was away from home, and admitting your feelings would only give him a reason to stay.
“It’s me.” your voice shakes as you snap back to reality. You squint your eyes at the beaming headlights and pray you don’t look as bad as you feel.
“Sorry, I probably scared you. I wasn’t thinking, I just wanted to find you.”
“It’s okay.” You say, feeling a bit awkward.
“Can I take you home?”
“Don’t worry about it, Josh.” you shake your head and start walking away again. Josh only follows you, driving right beside you.
“Really? I have heat.” he says in a tempting voice.
“I wasn’t going to go home. I was just gonna walk around for a bit.” you admit.
He thinks for a second. “Okay, come to my place. Everyone’s out so you don’t have to worry about disturbing us. I know you always do.”
You pause and he slows next to you. He’s right, actually. You hate to make people go out of their way for you. Turning to him, you give him a soft smile and tug on the passenger side door. He was right, he did have heat.
The ride to Josh’s house was quiet for a while. The air was stiff between you two, which is odd because usually you two had no issues. It felt different tonight. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something changed.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he finally asks.
You shake your head. “Nothing to talk about.”
“Okay,” he says. “But you can, if you want.”
You turn your attention back to the road ahead of you. “How was your tour?”
“Oh, you know. Lots of drinking, smoking, drugs, and women.” he says sarcastically, but for some reason it strikes a cord in you and you stop talking entirely. Josh notices and responds quickly. “Oh. I was just joking.”
“Yeah.” you say, rubbing your chin.
The radio plays quietly in the background, some old bluesy song fulfilling the silence. You turn to watch Josh, who has one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh. You stare shamelessly at his hand. It’s large and veins protrude from the skin. Your eyes shift up and focus on his arms, the slight muscles and tones skin. You run your tongue over your bottom lip and glare at his side profile. His hair, once long, was now cut shortly on the sides with curls resting on the top. His jawline is sharp enough to cut your skin, his lips plump and full. If his nose didn’t have the familiar bump on it, you would have thought he was an imposter.
“See something you like?” he asks. His tone is both serious and joking.
“Yeah,” you sigh, a wave washing over you. “You’ve changed a lot.”
“Me?” he laughs. “You’ve changed. I mean, you used to have-” he stops and swallows.
“What?” you ask.
“Nothing. You’ve just filled out. Like every woman does. Not bad-” he stutters nervously.
“So you’ve been checking me out?” you smirk. His eyes meet yours briefly before returning to the road.
“Uhm. Well. Your top doesn’t hide much.” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck.
He’s right. You look down to see the lace corset that is pushing up your boobs just right. Still cold and wet from the rain, your nipples press against the fabric. The view makes you shift in your seat, searching for friction.
“Yeah.” you agree and unbuckle yourself.
Josh’s hands grip the steering wheel, his eyes watching both you and the road ahead. You don’t know what has come over you, but the image of Josh looking at your tits makes your pussy throb. He’s changed alright, and his newfound muscles and hair has your mind thinking some inappropriate ideas.
You crawl slowly over the center counsel and watch his breathing hitch. He shifts in his seat and clears his throat. As your lips drag across the warm skin of his cheek, he lets out a breathy moan. Delighted with the sound, you tug on his ear.
“Jesus, Y/N. What are you doing?”
“You, hopefully. Unless you’re scared of my brother’s warnings.” you tease, your hand palming him through the black leather pants clinging to his legs.
Josh turns down the nearest gravel road and parks on the side, turning his lights on. He faces you in a haze, his eyes hooded and lazy. His hand finds your cheek and he runs his fingers over the soft skin.
“Oh baby. The devil himself couldn’t keep me from you.”
And with that, his lips slam into yours. You freeze for a second but soon reciprocate his actions. His hands tangle in your hair, yours in his. His tongue drags across your bottom lip, an invitation under seductive cover. You grant him access, allowing his tongue to dig into your mouth. You moan, and he quickly swallows the sound, supplying you with his own set of whimpers. He pulls back, his eyes filled with a mischievous glare.
“Are you a virgin?” he simply asks.
“I’m not a prude.” you scoff, taking offense.
Josh shakes his head. “Being a virgin doesn’t make you a prude. All it does is alter the way I’m fucking you tonight.”
You swallow harshly and squeeze your legs together at his words. “No, I’m not a virgin.”
“Okay.” he says before pulling the lever that keeps his seat up.
It reclines quickly so he’s almost horizontal. You smile and giggle as he smirks at you.
“Well, darling?” he asks in an accent.
“Maybe the back seat would be better?” you question.
Josh shrugs and opens his door. You do the same, meeting him in the back seat. You share the same goofy expression as you crawl to each other. His hands find your waist immediately and he hoists you onto his lap, earning a surprised gasp from your lungs. With your knees on either side of his legs, you connect lips. He tastes like alcohol and sugar and you grind your hips into him. He groans, and you can feel him hard between you. The few pieces of clothing between you two is all that keeps you apart. You rock against him again, your skirt riding up your thighs. Josh takes notice and pushes it up farther with his hands. As you bite and tug at the skin on his neck, his hands squeeze your ass. The gesture is strong enough to know it will leave a mark.
You let out a pitiful moan you didn’t know you had in yourself. He twitches against your leg, obviously finding it very attractive. Letting out a shaky breath, he distributes a soft smack to your ass. You jump and suck harder onto his neck, trying to muffle the sounds of your pathetic moans. Josh feels your vibrations and you can feel the smirk on his face.
“I think I have you figured out, doll.” he seductively says before smacking your ass again, this time, more firmly. You cry his name into the crevice of his neck. “Yeah? You like it when I smack you?”
You can feel your panties grow damper by the second. You had no idea you were into this. Or that he was.
“Answer me,” he hisses.
“Yes! Yes, daddy please!” you cry, the name leaving your mouth without thinking.
He whimpers and thrusts himself into you. You cry at the friction and find his lips again. You grind against his leather pants, desperately searching for friction. Josh watches you, his teeth biting his lip.
“Take this off, mama.” he tugs at your skirt. You unzip it and throw it up front. “Red lace? You filthy girl.”
He grabs your ass and lifts you up so all your weight is on your knees. He kisses your stomach and plants a kiss on the hem of your panties. His fingers that dig into your ass wander between your legs. The feeling of his digit sliding over your dripping core makes you shudder above him.
“So worked up, and for what?” he teases, enjoying the show above him.
“You.” you say weakly.
“How long?” he asks.
“Since I’ve known you.” You admit, feeling no shame considering you’re half-naked in front of him.
“What a slut, baby. And all for me?” he whispers, his finger dipping into you. “Take these off.”
You crawl off of him and do your best to gracefully pull the drenched material off your body. Once it’s off, Josh pulls you back onto his lap. You’re shocked and confused, but the look in his eye makes you ditch your expectations.
“You want me so bad? Fine, show me how bad and fuck yourself on my leg.” he spits. “While you’re doing that, you’re gonna tell me how long you’ve waited for this moment.”
You move to straddle his right leg, immediately working yourself onto him. He tears off his shirt. It’s dark in the car, but the full moon shines just right, showing you his soft skin and sculpted chest. His fingers move to your corset, toying with the back.
“As much as I love how little this top covers, I want the full view.” he unties the strings in the back. “Talk, or this is over. Tell me how bad you’ve wanted it.”
“So bad.” you cry. “Since you started tutoring me.”
“That long? You were what– a junior?” he slips your top off and leans back.
You pick up your pace, your arousal soaking into his leg. “I was so jealous of all those girls you would hang out with.”
His eyes absorb your breasts and how they look bouncing in the faint light. He brings one of his callused hands and teases the nipple. “So jealous of the girls who got my cock, huh?” He leans forward and begins to suck on the bead of your nipple.
“So jealous!” you say in a high-pitched tone. Your stomach tightens and you feel the familiar feeling grow in your stomach. “Fuck, Josh. I’m gonna cum.”
“Do it, mama. All over my leg like a good girl. Make a mess.” he encourages, moving to the peak of your other breast. “Bet you did this all the time. Fucking yourself with your fingers, imagining it was my cock.”
“I did, I did.” you say as your eyes fill with stars. You shake at the feeling of your release.
“Fuck. That’s so hot.” he breaths into your chest. “You’re a blessing.”
Pulling yourself off of him, you grab his face and pull him in. Your teeth knock together as you run your hand across his raging erection. He groans at the contact and fucks up into your hand.
“Suck my cock. I know you want to.”
You do. So, you pull away from his mouth and work at his buttons. His cock springs free as you pull both layers off his body. It rests on his stomach, glistening precum decorating the tip. You drool at his size, the length and thickness. Without another word, you dip your face between his legs and take him into your mouth. He shakes beneath you, giving you a sense of power you enjoy.
“Holy fuck. Just like that. Wrap your pretty lips around it.”
His hands find your hair and he forms a makeshift ponytail with his hands. Using this as a handle, he pushes your head up and down. You bob on him, hot tears streaming down your face. You take him as best as you can, gagging on him as your tongue messes with whatever area of skin it can find. He sounds so pretty above you, his breath hitches and sweet profanities being whispered to you. In one swift motion, he pulls you off of him and wipes your lip with the pad of his thumb.
“You take me so well, better than any other girl I’ve had. But I want to cum later, mk?” You nod. “I want you to ride my face.”
“Wha-”
“Please. I’ve waited for this too. I have dreams of you and I wake up so fucking hard, baby.”
His confession has you placing both knees on the side of his head.
“Tell me if I’m crushing you, okay?” you say seriously.
“Fuck that. Ride my face, hard.”
He hooks his arms around your thighs and pulls you onto his face. His tongue runs between your folds and circles your bundle of nerves strategically. He sucks on your clit pulling it between his lips and letting it go again. You grind into him, your hand smearing on the window like the Titanic. You’re a huge mess above him, crying his name and cursing. He groans into your core, the vibrations unleashing a whole new kind of moan from your lips. You pull yourself off him slightly and when you look down, you see two giant brown eyes staring back into you.
“You look so pretty between my legs.” you breathe.
His eyes stay burning into your soul as he slides a finger into your heat, his tongue flicking once over your sensitive bead. You cry out once. Then again when he slides a second finger into you. As if he's an expert, he finds your G-spot immediately. His fingers pump in and out of you at the same rhythm as his tongue. Rockstars are the fucking best.
Completely lost in the feeling, you grind into his face, your hands tugging in his perfect curls. You ride his face, chasing your own high. “Josh. I’m gonna cu-” The words barely leave your mouth. You scream and thrash above him, his arms keeping you glued to his face as he continues to lap mercilessly at your throbbing clit. The adrenaline and heat floods your bloodstream, making you extremely dizzy. If he wasn’t holding you into him, you probably would have fallen over.
After a few seconds, you detach yourself from your brother’s best friend’s face. It’s soaked with your cum and arousal, but his smile lets you know there’s no other way he’d have it. Crawling off of him, you straddle his cock. It’s pulsing between your legs. Having enough, Josh flips you onto your back. He leans over you wearing a shit-eating smirk proudly.
“Ready, baby?” he asks as he lines himself up. “Gonna fuck this tight little pussy and you’re gonna take it like a good girl.”
He pushes into you, not all the way, but enough. You cry at the feeling of being stretched, your hands clawing at his back. You both moan as he rocks his hips into you again. You’re dripping all over him, making a mess in his back seats.
“God, look at you. It’s barely in and you’re fucking withering.”
“Give it to me,” you beg. “Treat me like the slut I am.”
He pulls back before thrusting completely to the hilt. Your back arches, a cry leaving your mouth. It fucking hurts, but it feels like heaven.
“You feel like velvet.” his hips snap again. “Such a pretty, perfect pussy.”
Josh tucks his head into your neck, kissing and sucking across your collarbone. You wrap your legs around his waist, trying to keep him deep inside you. He snaps in and out of you at an insane pace. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, your mouth hanging open.
“So big,” you whisper. “Filling me up.”
With every deep thrust, you’re overcome with ecstasy. He twitches inside of you, causing you to squeeze around him. He cries in your ear, his lips tugging at the skin. His rough hand dances between your bodies, settling on your sweet spot. The pad of his thumb circles aggressively across your bundle of nerves. Your whole body is aching and arched at his touch.
“Do it, mama. Cum for daddy. Cum all over his cock, Y/N. Give it to me.”
Your body tightens as you cry his name like a story. Your nails dig and scratch at his back, surely to leave a thousand tiny cuts. As you pulse around him, he rolls you both over so you’re on top. You sink into his skin, the feeling of his cock still hard inside of you making you tired. As it twitches, you shoot up, you eyes wide open.
“You didn’t cum-” you hiss.
“Shh baby. Ride me?” He kisses your forehead.
The idea makes you smirk. You never did much with your first, or second. They weren’t into anything besides missionary and you giving them head. Josh wanted it. All of it.
You line him up and sink onto him as he throws his head back. With hands gripping either side of your waist, he pulls you down into him so you’ve taken every inch. His mouth hangs open as he watches you slide up and down slowly on his length, taking him as best as you can.
“I’ve never done this.” you admit in a sloppy tone.
“Like any of this?” Josh pauses and stares at you.
“I’ve had sex, Josh. Just not positions. Can you tell me how you like it?” You ask.
“Fuck. We don’t have to-”
“No. I want to. So bad. Just talk me through it.”
Josh, with both of his hands on your hips, guides you. You get the memo and roll your hips against him. “Yes, just like that. Ride it.” His words make you pick up your pace. As you figure things out, you add a few tricks to it. He’s whimpering below you, cursing your name as you fuck him just how he likes it. His hand harshly smacks the fat of your ass cheek and you cry his name. He twitches inside of you, letting you know he’s close. With one rough thrust, you collapse onto his chest. Your hands tangle in his curls, your rhythm matching his thrusts. “Your tits are so hot. Could watch you like this forever.”
He plants a sloppy kiss on your lips, the sound of wet skin filling the car. You feel yourself close again, noticing how your own body reacts. You squeeze around his length.
“Gonna cum again?” he teases. You mumble under your breath. Your hair is glued to your red, fucked out face as you take every inch. Josh wraps his arm around your waist to keep you from moving and his other hand connects with your clit. You’re done for. “Yes! Fuck yes!” he cheers as another mind blowing orgasm rips through your body.
You tremble above him and buck against him as you come down from your high. Your foreheads connect and stick together from the sweat. He leans up and kisses you softly, tucking hair behind your ears and wiping a few stray tears from your eyes. His cheeks are flushed and you cup them with your hands, admiring his state.
Once again, he flips you onto your back, his cock leaving you. You squeak in slight disappointment. “I can’t cum again, Josh.” You admit, eyes still closed.
“Wanna stop?” he asks sweetly, cupping your face.
“No.” you say honestly.
He flips you on your stomach in one solid, swift motion. “Good. I’m not finished with you. Stick your ass up, sweet girl.” He smacks it as you lift it off the wet seats.
You watch him from over your shoulder, his fingers toying with your entrance. He looks so pretty in the light you just want to fuck his face again. He fists his cock, stroking it while staring at your leaking pussy. He curses under his breath and circles your hole, oblivious that you’re watching. When he sees, he circles the head of himself over your sensitive clit. You shudder as he sinks himself back into you, this new angle unlocking a new level of pleasure.
He doesn’t move which makes you grow impatient. “Josh.” you cry, elongating the ‘o’ in his name. You push yourself against him, searching for movement.
“Awe. Pretty girl is so hungry for me even though she’s already came twice.” he mocks. “Show me how bad you want it and fuck yourself on it.”
With another crack at your ass, you bounce onto him, your boobs brushing against the seats below you. The friction makes you bite your lip. Eventually, Josh can’t handle it and he meets your bounce with a thrust of his own. You wither from under him, sweet noises dancing around you. He’s pounding into you at a vicious rate. Not a single thought circles in your head at the moment.
“Who’s pussy is this?” He growls loudly.
“Yours.” you whisper.
“Louder.”
“Yours! It’s yours.” you give in pathetically.
“Yeah it is. I’m fucking it like it’s mine because it is mine. Got it?”
“Mhm.” you cry, feeling his thrusts become sloppier by the second.
“Sorry, what?” he smacks your cheek and pulls you up so your back is pressed against his chest.
“My pussy’s yours, daddy!” you shake.
One hand wraps around your neck as the other cups your aching heat. He splits his fingers, feeling his cock pound into you. You tremble against him, your breathing quickening. “Josh, wait. I can’t. I can’t cum again, it hurts!”
“Poor little baby,” he bites your shoulder and squeezes your neck tighter. “Wants to play the game until she loses, huh? Not here, mama. Take it.”
His words have you bucking against him, using your own hand to circle your clit. He smacks it away and replaces it with his own. You both let out unearthly sounds as you approach your climax. With one final thrust, he spills into you which sends you over the edge yourself. You scream as your lips connect, his cock still spasming inside you. You fall flat on your chest and Josh pancakes you to the seat, his cock still buried inside of your walls.
“That’s my good girl.” he kisses your hair. Pleasure still floods through you, your brain barely processing a word he said. With hands planted on either side of you, he pushes himself off your body and pulls himself out. You feel the strands of cum fall from him and onto your thighs. “Jeeeez.” he says.
You flip onto your back, your chest still heaving. Josh is between your legs on his knees, throwing his shirt over his head before placing another kiss on your cheek.
“Does daddy just fuck you so good you can’t even get dressed?” he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm. The aggressive act is gone and replaced with the loving Josh you’ve grown up with.
“So good.” you smile, pulling him in for another kiss.
He falls onto you, his curls brushing across your face. Using your tits as pillows, he lays comfortably. “You’re amazing, do you know that?”
You sigh and giggle. “You’ve already fucked me Josh, no need to be a suck up.”
He lifts off of you again. “I’m not sucking up. You’re perfect, and I want this.”
“What?” the words tumble out of your mouth. “What about tour and the girls-”
“It’s you, Y/N. It’s always gonna be you. They mean nothing to me. They never have and never will. With you it’s real, and I want it.”
“But, Henry.”
“Fuck Henry. I was done with him the second he called you a slut. Only I get to call you that.” he jokes, kissing your nose.
“Are you sure?” you ask.
“Are you?” He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t seem too sure.”
“Josh I’ve been in love with you my whole life. You just fucked me so hard I won’t be able to walk for a few days and now you want me to be your girlfriend. I’m sorry if it’s going to take me more than a few seconds to wrap my head around it.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” he apologizes and lays back on your chest. “We have all the time in the world, darling.”
#greta van fleet#josh kiszka#jake kiszka#sam kiszka#josh kiszka fic#josh kiszka smut#jake kiszka smut#greta van fleet smut#josh gvf#jake gvf#sam gvf#gvf smut#gvf#gvf fic#gvf fanfiction#danny gvf#sam kiszka gvf#josh kiskza fanfic
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A Heath the Gargoyle part 2? It’s going to be the 1 year anniversary for his story soon (you posted Dec. 29 2022) and I’d love to see the couple’s relationship in a more established/long term phase. Maybe Heath is getting ready to propose so Y/N doesnt end up “dying alone eaten by local strays”?
I can't believe it's been a whole freaking year!!! Time goes soooo fast! Okay, I didn't make it the 29th...but I'm close ^_^
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Gargoyle (Heath) x F reader
Word Count: 3.5 K
General Plot: You and Heath go to a childhood friend's New Years Party.
Previous Parts
TW: nsfw gargoyle smut, extremally awkward party conversation, p in v sex, flying and being in high places if heights bothers you, discussion of depression, hurt comfort dynamic
“Are you sure this looks good?” Heath asked you, shifting on his feet and plucking at the silver tie you’d fastened to his neck to match your sparkly dress.
“It's perfect!” You beamed, smiling up at him and swatting his hand. “Don't look so nervous!”
“I don't want to embarrass you,” he said, uncharacteristically shy.
You snorted.
“I’m more worried about the opposite,” you sighed. “Just…take anything they say with a grain of salt.”
“What does that mean?” He asked.
“Grace and I have been friends since we were kids because my mom works for her dad’s company…I kind of had to be her friend. Don't get me wrong, we were really close when we were kids,” you said. “But now I only see her for her annual New Year's party for my mom's sake. It's all I can stomach…how do I say this…she's kind of…competitive….You'll see.”
The two of you stood on the doorstep of her boyfriend’s obnoxiously large house, the sound of the party inside filling the chilly night air. You wore a sparkly dress, and Heath a sharp suit customized to fit his wings.
“Maybe they didn't hear me.”
You hit the doorbell again, and it let out a hollow DING.
“I’ve got it!” Someone shouted behind the door.
You heard the sound of footsteps, and the door swung open to reveal Grace's boyfriend Mark.
He was a better than average looking guy with blonde hair cut in a trendy style, wearing an expensive suit.
“Well…hello!” Mark said, his head tipping back to meet Heath’s eyes. “You’re…”
His mouth hung open for a moment, at a loss for words, then they both spoke at once.
“Heath.”
“Huge.”
There was an awkward pause before you stepped forward and hugged Mark.
“Thanks for having us over, Mark!” You beamed, shoving a bottle of champagne in his hand.
Mark blinked for a moment as you pushed past him, pulling Heath behind you.
“Grace’s in the kitchen!” He called after the two of you as he shut the door.
“Hiiii!” Grace squealed as you pushed through partygoers to get to the kitchen.
It wasn’t particularly difficult since Heath was bigger, harder, and wider than anyone in the room.
Grace looked beautiful, dressed in a glittery champagne bodycon dress. She'd always been lithe, her profile spruced up by a new pair of boobs Mark had bought her.
As usual, her party was perfect, every detail considered. There was a bartender wearing a bow tie serving drinks, the perfect music playing, and fresh flower arrangements everywhere.
All the furniture had been removed to create a dance floor, and someone had specially designed gold lights to set the mood.
“So this is the man himself!” Grace exclaimed, looking up at Heath with wide eyes.
“Gargoyle,” you corrected.
“Right! Right! Henry, wasn't it?”
Heath gave her a humble smile and stuck out a hand to shake hers.
“Heath. Nice to meet one of (Y/N)’s friends.”
She held his hand a moment too long before she dropped it.
“(Y/N), shame on you for keeping him hidden away!”
You blushed and put a hand on Heath’s arm, unsure what to say. The two of you had been half hibernating for the winter. You tended to get a bit of depression during the cold, dark months. Heath was more than happy to snuggle up with you and his fluffy little cat Aero and cuddle, which is all you really wanted to do from November to April.
People usually imagined gargoyles sitting stoically in the snow and menacing passerbys, but Heath liked to nest, tucking you both in piles of warm blankets and reading to you while you shared snacks.
Her eyes traveled from the tip of his folded wings, down the trim suit was wearing, to his clawed feet.
“I can see why,” she went on, her mouth hanging open for a moment before she caught herself. “I'm so glad you two came!”
“I've been missing my best friend! Let's get you some drinks!” she squealed, leading you out of the kitchen.
Heath glanced down at you and raised an eyebrow.
“Best friend?” He mouthed at you, and you shrugged.
“Pomegranate martinis for us,” she said to the man behind the bar.
“What do you like to drink, Heath?” Mark asked, appearing with the bottle of champagne you'd brought and handing it to the bartender.
“Whatever you've got with Whiskey.”
“Gotcha, big guy,” the bartender said, tossing bottles elegantly as he made the drinks.
When you were all set up with beverages, Lily led you out onto her back patio.
“Look at this,” you said, taking in the beautiful outdoor space. “You've been hard at work! It's beautiful out here!”
She'd put in layers of neatly trimmed flowers and bushes, which were dusted in snow. White lounges were arranged to make comfortable seating areas warmed by blue glass fire pits. The massive pool glowed, steam drifting up from its surface. It looked like it had come straight out of a magazine.
“Isn't it? Mark got the best landscaper in the state! I'll give you his card!”
She frowned at you.
“Oh, you're still in that icky old apartment, aren't you?” she asked. "You've got to get out of that place. Aren't you afraid of mold? It's terrible for your complexion."
“(Y/N) lives with me. Gargoyles like high places, so I have a flat downtown,” Heath corrected her, then smiled down at you. “Though the only plants we have are potted.”
“Heath is really good with plants,” you said, smiling back at him with warmth. “He’s made us a whole jungle on the balcony!”
“Hmm,” Grace hummed, eyes dropping to Heath’s large hands. “You look like you're good with your hands, Heath. You’ll have to come by sometime and give me some lessons.”
Heath’s eyebrows rose, glancing down at you for help.
“How’s work going, Mark?” You asked to change the subject.
“Mark got a promotion,” Grace said before he could answer. “He's a senior account manager at Dawson and Shields.”
“Congratulations, Mark,” you said politely.
He raised his drink and put a possessive arm over Grace’s shoulder.
Before anyone could speak, one of Grace’s’s friends practically ran towards you, eyes on your hulking boyfriend.
“(Y/N)!” Mary wailed, throwing her arms around you in a way she’d never done before.
“Oh…Oof!” you gasped, catching her weight. “Uh…nice to see you again, Mary. This is my boyfriend, Heath.”
He put his hand out to shake hers, but she shoved her body past it, attempting to plaster herself to his chest.
“We do hugs here!” Mary brayed.
He took an awkward step backward, gently pushing Mary off of him with one large hand.
“Sorry,” he said, tapping his nose. “Your perfume. My kind is very sensitive to scent.”
He folded his big body down and tucked his nose into the spot where your neck met your shoulder, tapping a small kiss into your skin and subtly sniffing your neck as if he was cleansing his pallet.
Mary’s face turned bright red, and she took a step back.
“Are you still working at that bookstore?” Grace asked, filling the awkward silence.
Before you could answer, she turned to Heath.
“I've been trying to tell (Y/N) it's time to get a grown-up job for years now. I mean, who works minimum wage at some shabby little bookstore at our age, don't you think?”
Heath glanced at you and tipped his head to the side in a way you recognized as annoyance, though didn't look it. He took a sip of his drink to hide his frown.
“What do you do, Grace?” He asked when he’d straightened his face.
Excited to talk about herself, she went on, her hands waving around as she talked.
“I'm a beauty influencer!” she said.
“Beauty…influencer?” Heath asked. “I'm not sure I know what that means.”
She stuck out her chest to show off the Chanel necklace resting just above her cleavage.
“I model jewelry, makeup, and nails,” she said. “Then I do reviews on all the products!”
“Oh..uh…neat,” he said, trying to be friendly for your sake.“I didn't know that was a job. Do the brands pay you?”
Her bright smile fell for just a moment before she plastered it back on.
“Well…No, but I'm hoping to get some sponsorships this year!” She said. “I have 1,000 followers on TikTok!”
Heath gave her a blank look.
“Tik… Tok?” He asked, glancing down at you for guidance.
“Um…it started as an app for teenagers to lip-sync popular songs, but now lots of people use it!” you explained.
He raised his eyebrows but was at a loss for words.
“What do you do for work, Heath?” Mark asked.
“I own a shabby little bookstore,” he said before taking a long drag of his drink.
“Oh!” Grace said with a stilted smile.
There was another incredibly awkward silence.
“Well, I think that's wonderful!” Mary cheered, squeezing his elbow. “There aren't enough brick-and-mortar stores these days! Everything is online!”
Heath brightened, though he took a half step away from Mary.
“We do a lot of online business, as well.”
He brushed his heavy hand over your hair, affectionately.
“We?” Grace asked.
“I made (Y/N) my co-owner.”
“Wow, sleeping with the boss, (Y/N),” Mary snickered. “I never thought you had it in you.”
You blushed, but Heath folded you under his arm.
“It’s the other way around,” Heath chuckled, brushing his thumb over your bare shoulder as he spoke. “(Y/N) is the boss. She’s got more of a mind for business than me. I'm just a book nerd, but she’s a marketing genius. Sales were dropping the year before last, so she managed to turn the store into more of a destination. Since she took over things, we've started focusing on hard-to-find antiques and hosting auction events. Profits have quadrupled.”
“Oh!” Mark said, snapping his fingers. “Of course! You own Gargoyle Book Gallery! That's a legend! My boss loves antique books...first editions and all that. He raves about your spot all the time!”
Heath tipped his drink at Mark.
“Donny Shields, right? He comes by for poker night.”
“Poker night?” Mark asked.
Heath nodded.
“Some guys from the Business League come over on Saturdays to play a couple of hands of poker and shoot the shit,” he explained.
Mark’s eyebrows shot up.
“I'd love to get in on that!” He said, eyes almost green with envy. "Can't imagine the conversations over that table!"
Heath shrugged.
“We’ve got a full table now, but if a spot opens up, I’ll ask the guys,” he said.
Grace decided too much time had passed without anyone paying attention to her.
“Now that Mark is on track to be partner, we are going to buy a new house!” she said. “I don’t understand how you can stand to live in a tiny apartment!”
Mark looked at her like he did not, in fact, want to buy a new house.
“We’re still discussing it,” he said.
Grace smacked him on the arm.
“Don’t be silly, Mark,” she said. “With your raise, we can afford something bigger!”
“I mean, I spend a lot of money on your stuff for TikTok, Grace,” he murmured. “Maybe if you were pulling in some revenue-”
Grace smacked him again, harder this time, and gave him a look that said, “Shut up if you know what’s good for you.”
“This place is really nice,” Heath offered Mark, trying to be diplomatic. “Plenty of room for a family.”
They both spoke at once.
“We aren’t starting a family.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought when I bought it.”
You and Heath glanced at one another and took long sips of your drinks.
“I have my career to think of!” Grace said while Mark found somewhere else to look.
“That’s a pity. You’d be a great mom!” Mary said. “You could be a mommy blogger. Your fans would love that. You and Mark would have beautiful babies.”
“Of course. We have excellent genes,” Grace said, enjoying being complimented.
Her eyes slid mischievously to you.
“What about you two?” she asked. “Are you thinking of starting a family?”
You and Heath’s eyes met.
“Maybe,” Heath said. “If you want to.”
Your cheeks warmed, but not from embarrassment.
“I’d like that,” you said.
Grace frowned.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asked.
The two of you looked at her, confused.
“You know, because of your mental illness. You wouldn’t want to pass that on to your kids…and how can you be a good mom with depression?”
Your heart dropped, and tears flooded your eyes. It shouldn’t have gotten to you. You knew how Grace was, but it still hurt. It was something you’d always felt a little insecure about.
Heath’s mouth fell open, and he shoved his glass into Mark’s hand.
“It was nice to meet you, Mark,” he said before he scooped you up in his arms, and with a heavy pump of his wings, the two of you shot up into the night sky.
He flew a couple of blocks away, before he stopped and hovered in place.
Tears slid down your cheeks, leaving an icy streak as they cooled.
“Are you okay?” Heath asked as the two of you hung suspended in the cold December air.
You sniffled, wiping your tears.
“Yeah…I told you…Grace is competitive. She doesn’t like anyone looking better than her,” you whimpered.
You felt a low growl in his chest.
“That’s no excuse,” he said. “I think you’ll be a great mom. I’m not the least bit worried.”
“But what if she’s right?” you asked. “What if I’m a terrible mom? What if my kids are messed up or something?”
Heath let out a chuff with no humor.
“That’s nonsense, teacup,” he said. “Depression is pretty common…and you manage yours just fine. Nobody is a perfect parent, and everyone has different challenges. Grace sounds like some kind of eugenicist. It’s creepy, to be honest.”
“Are you sure?” you asked. “You don’t wish you had a perfect girlfriend like Grace?”
Heath laughed out loud.
“Grace is not the perfect girlfriend. Sooo far from it. I kind of feel bad for Mark, to be honest,” he said. “You on the other hand…”
He tucked his head in the crook of your neck, smattering kisses over the skin.
“You are smart…sweet…patient…incredibly patient,” he whispered, kissing you or nibbling with each word. “I have no idea how you put up with that woman.”
“You get used to it,” you murmured.
He tipped your face up to his.
“I don’t want you to get used to that kind of meanness,” he said. “I don’t want to control who you see…but I don’t like them. I’d rather spend the rest of New Year's with you if that’s okay, not some snobby weirdos.”
He adjusted you in his arms, nudging you to loop your legs around his waist. You pressed yourself against his warm body to chase away the chill of the night air. With one arm holding you to him, he cupped the nape of your neck, guiding your lips to his with the other.
He tasted like oaky whiskey, making your mouth water. His heavy kisses chased any thoughts of Grace or the party away.
Hovering in the inky night with the twinkling lights of the city sparkling in every direction, your only focus was Heath’s thick hand holding you securely in place and his lips on yours.
You ground your hips into his body, delighted to feel his hardening shaft meet your core.
His hand slipped down your neck, tugging the front of your dress down with a stiff jerk. The straps snapped, and your breasts tumbled out.
“Heath,” you gasped, but he hushed you with another deep kiss before speaking.
“It’s dark. No one can see us. Let me make you feel good.”
He dipped his head, drawing a peaked nipple into his mouth. The contrast of his hot tongue and the chilly air made you quake. He licked and sucked one nipple and then the other until you’d completely forgotten everything going on below. Your world shrank to just Heath and all the decadent things he could do to your body.
Your head fell back, pleasure snaking up and down your spine as he delighted you. Thick fingers roughly shoved the skirt of your dress up your thighs, and he traced your slit, growling at how wet you were for him. Another swift jerk and your shredded panties were fluttering a hundred feet down to the snowy earth.
You gasped his name, but he was high on your scent and taste, wholly focused on giving you pleasure. He screwed two fingers inside of you, opening you up for him. You let out a needy whimper when they pulled out for a moment but were quickly replaced with his tail, thrusting in and out of you.
You hardly heard the buzz of his zipper, your eyes rolling back in your head. With a tight thrust of his hips, his tail slipped away, and his thick cock filled you. He clutched your ass with a deep, satisfied grunt.
A hundred feet up in the sky, you didn’t dare unhook your arms from around his neck, so you were at his mercy as he slammed his shaft into you. You bleated lusty yelps with every smack of his heavy balls against your skin, clinging to him for dear life. You were dizzy from fear blending with pleasure, your breaths ragged gasps. There was nothing between you and falling to your death but Heath’s enormous arms and powerful wings.
“You’re so fucking perfect, (Y/N),” he growled into your ear, practically feral from the way your channel spasmed around his cock. You were tight, wet, hot, and the only woman in the world he wanted. Gripping your ass, he used your cunt like a fleshlight, slamming his cock into you over and over again.
The tip of his naughty tail circled your clit, pushing you closer and closer to your end until there was nowhere else to go, and you went careening over the edge. With the addition of your pussy strangling his cock he couldn’t hold back any longer, his final thrusts savage and bruising.
Your stomach dropped as he lost control of his wings for a moment, and the two of you dipped into a free fall for a few seconds. You felt his searing cum fill you as you screamed into his chest. The confusing sensation of falling and his cum filling your womb slammed you into another unexpected orgasm. You bounced in his arms as he steadied the two of you.
“Heath!” you gasped, your nails digging into his neck.
“It’s okay, teacup, I’ve got you,” he muttered as he titled his wings, and the two of you streaked across the city.
Instead of heading home, he deposited you on the roof of a tall building downtown.
“Wait here,” he said, zipping his fly, and before you could say anything, he swooped away.
When he returned a few minutes later, he was holding a bottle of champagne.
“Where did that come from?” you laughed as he settled next to you and tugged you into his lap.
“I stole it from a party going on down there,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, they have plenty.”
You giggled, leaning back into his chest, while he popped the top, aiming the spray off of the edge of the building, before tipping a little into your mouth.
There was a pop, and fireworks exploded in the sky across the city.
He turned you around to him, slipping something out of his pocket.
"I wanted to do this tonight...but things didn't go quite as planned..." he said, appearing suddenly nervous.
You tipped your head to the side, confused until he opened the little box in his hand revealing a pretty ring.
"Heath!" you gasped your hand going to your lips.
"(Y/N)," he said. "Since the day I hired you, my world changed. At first it was just a fantasy crush. I mean, as your boss...I felt like it was wrong to act on it...but something about you is irresistible. It was impossible not to fall in love with you. Impossible not to steal you away.
Then we started dating and for awhile, I thought that was enough...but as the year went on...I realized I was happier than I'd ever been and you seemed...happier than I'd ever seen you...So...I want to make this permanent. If...you want that..."
Your eyes danced from the ring up to Heath's eyes. More fireworks bloomed in the sky, and you could see them reflected in Heath’s dark irises.
"Are...you asking me to marry you, Heath?" you asked.
"I guess I forgot the most important question," he said, giving you a shy chuckle. "(Y/N), will you marry me?"
Tears filled your eyes again, but this time for the best reason.
"Yes! Of course! I love you, Heath! I want to be with you forever!" you said.
“I love you, too (Y/N). Happy New Year,” he said quietly, slipping the ring out of the velvet and slipping it on your finger.
“Happy New Year, Heath,” you said tucking your head into his cozy shoulder and watching the fireworks make your engagement ring sparkle.
#monster x girl#monster fucker#monster smut#monster#monster romance#monster x human#monster lover#male yandere#yandere smut#gargoyle#x reader
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You spin me right round (baby, right round)
A/N: Am I alive? Physically, yes. Am I okay? Probably not. Did I miss all of you guys and writing? YES. Honestly, it’s been weird not writing and keeping in contact with all of you, but I’m trying to get back to it – and that brings us to here. Also, I’ve been listening to Sleep Token on repeat, so I’m feeling things.
I don’t have a set schedule right now, mostly because I have no idea if I’ll be posting regularly or just on a whim, but for now, I’m just getting back in the groove of things!
Your comments, likes, reblogs mean the world to me and would definitely help me stay on it, so if you’ve got anything to say, say it, my loves.
Remember English isn’t my first language, so if there’s errors in grammar or language, try to overlook it. Love you all!
Also, please be gentle wit me on my first day back – it’s like being nervous to start a new school, really.
MASTERLIST
Ask me anything/requests/tag list requests
Pairing: NotFamous!Henry Cavill x female reader
Warnings: Language, dorks being dorks, meet cute, strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, smut (18+, minors DNI), dirty talk, slightly dom/sub, spanking, p in v, tongue on v, blowjobs, slight Msub to Mdom, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, petnames
Wordcount: 4633 (whoops)
You spin me right round (baby, right round)
Laundry day. Probably the worst of days, especially considering the hefty trek from your 5th floor apartment to the basement, which would be bad enough in and of itself, but carrying the massive load of laundry down without a functioning elevator without spilling half of your delicates did seem like an almost impossible task.
At any rate, you were going to do it, and you were going to be a strong, independent woman, who could definitely carry it down and back up again without dropping a thong or three (like last time, where Pete from 5D was lurking).
You heaved the blue IKEA-bag higher on your shoulder, silently cursing yourself for not actually doing the damned laundry more than you did, and began the descent into the musty basement, your trusty laundry-tokens jangling in your pocket of the loose shorts, you were wearing.
It took longer than you’d like to admit, and you almost did drop the entire bag down a flight of stairs, but you made it and with a loud grunt, you pushed the door to the basement and laundry-room open, almost stumbling inside.
“Oh.” You locked eyes with a very handsome stranger, who looked up from the only dryer, hands still buried pretty deeply in there.
“Oh, you need this one?” He asked politely, and that voice – smooth velvet, mixed with a deep rumble that settled nicely in your chest and between your legs. The accent didn’t help at all with how attractive you found him, either, and you shifted your weight slightly. Fuck.
“I-I… I’m… Not right…” You squeaked, silently cursing yourself for wearing your gray, tattered t-shirt with a faded logo on it, that definitely did not do anything nicely for your shape. You cleared your throat. “No, I’m sorry, no. I’m still in the early laundry-stages.” You said with a smile, and immediately wanted to die. Laundry stages?? He grinned, a fanged tooth catching his lower lip.
“Alright. New to the building?” He asked, casually loading a basket with his clothes.
“Sort of. More of a recluse, that have been living here for a month, and just never do laundry at normal people-times.” He chuckled and stood up to his full height. He was an impressive man, easily towering a head and a half above you, and he looked enormous. Muscles rolled under his perfect skin on his arms, and you couldn’t help your brain going in all other directions than polite talk with a neighbor.
“Well, nice to meet you, recluse. I’m Henry.” He balanced the basket on his hip (a beautiful move, if you were honest) and extended his hand, which you cautiously shook.
“I’m Y/N.” You said with a small smile. His hand was warm and the grasp was firmer than you had expected, small callouses on the tips of his fingers that graced the inside of your wrist deliciously. Fuckedy fuck.
“Y/N. Good name.” He winked at you. “Oh, don’t use the second washing machine…” He pointed to the washer with a bright red 2 painted on it. “Stinky Pete from 5D used it, and I don’t want to imagine what on earth he washed, but it still smells vaguely like rot.” He winked at you.
“Bye, Recluse Y/N!” And with that he left, leaving you slightly shellshocked and a scent trail of hazel and wood behind.
It went on like that for a few weeks; you showed up, he was already there in various states of undress (once you even came face to face with him in just boxers, because he had spilled what appeared to be red wine everywhere) and you exchanged pleasantries before leaving the basement and going back to your apartment, sighing deeply over the fact, that you never actually talked to the handsome stranger.
----------
A while later, a little past midnight, you were back at it (still no working elevator) and found yourself face to face with the very handsome British man, who this time was wearing fucking gray sweatpants and a tank top, that definitely didn’t leave anything to the imagination. You could see every single muscle underneath the shirt as he loaded the laundry.
“Ah, look who’s back!” he grinned at you. “I saved the best washer for you, but don’t tell Mrs. Selton on the fourth. She can’t know I play favorites, or I’ll never get cookies again.” You laughed.
“Alright, your secret’s safe with me, sir.” You said and stood next to him, before starting to load the washer. He tried to say something, but almost bit his tongue and groaned at the sensation.
“Are you always this smooth?” You asked, laughing slightly, as he began coughing.
“Inhaled… Spit…” He coughed again. When he was finally breathing normally, he raised an eyebrow at you. “I’ll have you know, this is in no way an indication of how I handle normal interactions with people. It’s late, and I’m slightly flustered.” He said with a small smirk.
“Mhm.” You nodded, while mindlessly stuffing your washer. “Sure, I’ll believe you.”
“Hey, you don’t know me.” He said, leaning against the dryer and crossed his arms. “Maybe you know my name, and probably the color and general state of my underwear, but you don’t know me.”
“I never said anything.” You grinned and closed the lid on the washer.
“Wait, that’s not even close to full.” He tsked at you and opened it again. “You have to really stuff it in there, or you’ll be down here until morning.”
“Excuse you, can you get your hands off of my laundry, you weirdo.” You slapped his hand away. “Maybe I don’t want my clothes overly wrinkled, have you considered that?” You asked.
“Pfft. That’s the charm of communal laundry. It’ll always smell a little like other people and it will be wrinkled.”
You guffawed. “Sure thing, Henry. Any plans for tonight?” you asked, mindlessly pouring detergent into the container. He looked at you with his head tilted slightly, a few stray curls bouncing onto his forehead. Goddamnit, it should be illegal to look like that when doing laundry.
“Eh, not really. It’s Sunday, Sundays are for me and my boy.” You raised an eyebrow.
“Your boy, huh?”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? I am indeed a parent. I have a child.” He said proudly, leaning over you to press the on-button for you. You jumped onto the counter behind you and sat down on it, insistingly ignoring the creaking of the wood beneath your butt. That’s an insecurity for another day.
“Really?” He nodded. “Would your boy happen to be a giant dog?” he frowned.
“How the hell did you know that?” You pointed to the unwashed load of laundry, where a suspicious amount of hair had settled on pretty much everything.
“Why are you pointing at my... Yeah, well, that is a lot of hair…” He looked back at you with a furrowed brow. “Why are you even looking down there? My laundry should be sacred!” He said teasingly, covering the basket with his arm.
“Well… That’s… Uhm… Anyway.” You laughed. “Are you just down here for fun, or did you wait for me?” You asked with a grin. He shrugged. “Oooor… Did you wait for me down here, because we’re the only people in this building that are somewhat close in age, and you are trying to befriend me, which is why you’ve hidden a bottle of wine in your laundry?”
“Stop making assumptions that are astutely accurate, it’ll turn weird soon.” He groaned, and – as you thought – pulled a bottle of rosé out of his laundry.
“I’m not astutely accurate, I didn’t know it was rosé.” You grinned. He laughed lightly and cocked an eyebrow.
“To be fair, it’s mostly because I have nothing to do, and I have a feeling you never celebrated moving here. So…” He opened the bottle with a swift move and pulled two red solo cups out of the basket. “Drink?” You laughed.
“Love to.”
“Okay, come on, why on earth are you keeping these?” He asked, holding a very old thong between his fingers.
“Shut up, and stop fondling my underwear, you freak!” you quickly grabbed it from him with a laugh.
The bottle had been emptied, and a new one had been brought down and for some reason, in your tipsy mind, it was a great idea helping each other folding each other’s clothes while you were waiting on the load that was currently spinning in the dryer.
“I’ll have you know, some clothes are sentimental!” You said, throwing the thong into your blue IKEA-bag. He snickered.
“How on earth is tattered and holed thongs sentimental? Besides, to be quite frank, at this point it’s just… Like… A string.” He laughed.
“You’re the one to talk! You threw a pair of his socks at him. “I have never seen so many pairs of boxers with holes in them!” He shrugged.
“I call it the surprise.” You frowned.
“The surprise?”
“The surprise.” He moved closer to you, and every single hair on your body stood up, while your breath hitched. He whispered into your ear, closely enough for you to feel his lips touch your earlobe. “If I’m feeling very saucy, I’ll simply rip them off and yell surprise!.” He said and laughed, sending vibrations through your entire body.
“Ah, why of course. That’s a totally normal thing to do.” He pulled back slightly, his eyes a little darker than usual.
“As opposed to being sentimentally attached to a thong?” he asked, his arms caging you in – it wasn’t an unpleasant experience, but it did make your thighs shake a little. His scent enveloped you completely and made it almost impossible to think.
“Many tings are sentimental. Underwear, stuff…” You answered lamely. He laughed, a low rumble in his chest and cocked an eyebrow at you. When did his face get so close?
“Ah, of course. Stuff and thongs. Nothing better than relieving the good, old days of… Black thongs?” He said softly, his breath fanning over your face. It was intoxicating.
“Right. Besides, you have no right to judge me when your underwear looks like it could’ve been made during World War two.” You retorted, shifting slightly in place. He chuckled.
“Well… Maybe I have to get new ones, then.”
His lips were so, so close to yours, all it would take was just a little nudge and you would be connected. He was intoxicating as he had you caged, muscles rolling in his arms, his scent of wood and something inherently Henry fully filled your brain, and you almost moved your head, but the sound of the dryer going off pulled both of you out of whatever that was.
“Second load done, one more to go!” He said a little breathlessly and pushed himself away from you – you let out a breath, you didn’t know you were holding and jumped down from the counter.
“Great.” You whispered, bending down to grab whatever was in there – you would’ve just kept going, if it wasn’t for the small groan that sounded behind you. You turned your head around and caught Henry looking at your ass.
“Excuse you.” You smirked. He cleared his throat. “Were you just looking at my ass, Henry from 4C?”
“Uhm… No, I… I-” He groaned. “Fine, I was, but you can’t blame me! You’re bending down like that, and you’re wearing those fucking shorts… I can’t help it, you’re fucking gorgeous, darling.” You shivered.
“Oh.” A thick silence fell between you, and you slowly stood up, laundry be damned.
“Yeah, well… It’s an unfair advantage, I really tried to be proper and all that, but... Jesus Christ, Y/N.” he groaned again and closed his eyes – the small twitch in his gray sweatpants did not go unseen by you.
“Respectfully, are you wearing anything underneath those sweatpants?” You asked, slightly out of breath while heat and wetness were pooling in your panties by the mere idea.
“Maybe, maybe not. Are you wearing anything under that?” He asked, opening his eyes slightly.
“No, my sentimental thongs are in the laundry.” Wherever the confidence came from, you had no idea, but his reaction to you was more than enough for you to keep going. You were slightly shaky as you moved a step closer to him.
“Y/N…” He whispered.
“Henry…” You were chest to chest to him now, his lower back against the counter. It was slightly exhilarating to have the control, especially over such a big man as Henry. “Henry…” You whispered his name again, and a fucking whimper fell from his lips. Yeah, fuck this.
You pounced – as best as you could, height difference and all – and the moment, he realized what you were doing, his arms wrapped around you and lifted you slightly, so your lips could connect. It was electric. No, not electric, it was like a symphony of colors, feelings and it was like plunging into cool water, when his lips touched yours. You moaned against his lips, and he gasped, letting your tongue glide against his.
Deepening the kiss, he straightened up slightly, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist, holding on for dear life. Your lips and tongues slid against each other fervently, a slight groan reverberating from his throat send you over the edge. You bit his lower lip, pulling a soft moan from him, and wrapped your hand in is hair, tugging it slightly.
The reaction was better than you could’ve ever imagined. His hands moved from your waist to your ass, squeezing hard, while a mix of moans and your name tumbled from his lips to yours – you could feel his hard length pressing against the sweatpants and your shorts, and you were sure you were leaving wet spots on his pants.
“Fuck, Henry…” You mumbled his name, and he turned around to place you on the counter, before going to your throat, kissing and biting. You moaned at the feeling and threw your head back.
“Harder.” You moaned, and felt him smile against your skin, before his teeth sunk deeper into your skin, his large hands tightening their grip on your thighs, causing you to roll your hips.
“Fucking hell, darling, I can almost taste you from here…” He whispered against you, his hands moving upwards.
“Hmm, really?” You moaned, rolling your hips again. “Nobody’s stopping you.” You tugged his hair again for good measure.
“No, you’re right about that.” He mumbled, his hands dancing up, up, up, until they reached the waistband of your shorts and gently pulled them down, letting the fabric slide down your legs – you lifted your ass from the counter, allowing them to fully fall off of you, and he groaned at the sight in front of him.
“Fuuuck, darling… I can see how fucking wet you are… Can I taste you?” He asked, his darkened eyes finding yours, chest heaving. You cocked an eyebrow.
“Ask nicely.” He chuckled, a thick finger gliding along your hip, slowly inching towards your mound.
“Please, Y/N, please… Fuck, I need to taste you, please, let me taste you… let me eat you out until you cum on my tongue.” For a seemingly proper British man, he was filthy.
“Yes.” He didn’t wait a second before moving down your body, teeth catching both fabric and nipple on his way down, before he stopped, licking his lips, while looking at your exposed, dripping pussy.
“Y/N…” He mumbled your name like a prayer, and before you even had the time to breathe, he licked a thick line along your lips, parting them with it. He moaned at the taste and dove in like a man starved. You mewled at the feeling, his tongue moving around your clit, fingers still on your inner thigh, and you could barely hold your upper body up as his tongue dipped inside of you.
“Fuck, yes… I want to feel you cum on me, darling…” He mumbled against you, his hips rutting slightly into nothing.
“Fingers. Please, fingers.” You managed to moan as his tongue went back to your clit, hardening against it as he began to eat you out with an intensity you’d never experienced before.
He obeyed silently, adding two thick fingers into your dripping pussy, curling them upwards. You bit back a scream as they filled you, slowly sliding in and out, hitting your g-spot over and over, while his tongue did magic on your clit; you’d forever be ruined by this man, and he hadn’t even been inside of you yet.
“Fuck!” You bit back a scream as he sped up, tongue and fingers working in perfect unison to pull you closer to the edge; he chuckled darkly against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your clit. “Be quiet, little bird, or someone will hear.” He said slowly, taking a small break from your clit.
“Fuck off, it’s like three in the mo-or…” You didn’t finish your sentence, as he dove back in, this time with a speed and intensity, that could’ve killed you on a different day.
“Shit, I’m gonna…” He moaned as you tightened around his fingers, and he slurped your juices from you, keeping the pace as best he could.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, baby… I want to feel you cum, can you cum for me, please…” He whimpered as your pussy pulled his fingers deeper inside of you, and you shook slightly.
You couldn’t stop it, even if you wanted to. Your orgasm hit you like a fucking train, white spots appearing in your vision, and you felt, more than heard, his moaning as you rode your orgasm out on his face and fingers.
“Fuck, baby, look at you… You squirted for me, didn’t you, darling?” he looked up at you with a devilish smirk on his face, that was shimmering with your cum under the low fluorescent lights. You moaned – his fingers were still going in and out of you.
“Now…” he whispered, his voice dangerously low. “You get on your knees, darling.” E stood up and wiped his face gracefully, putting a single finger in his mouth. “You taste fucking amazing.” He grinned at you and stood to his full height, a sense of authority filling the room.
“Knees.” He commanded, and who were you to deny that? You slid down from the counter on shaky legs and landed on your knees, looking up at him.
“Fuck, darling, you can’t look at me like that, I’ll fucking cum here and now.” He groaned.
“Well, where’s the fun in that?” You said while your fingers grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled them down, letting his cock spring free. You almost salivated at the look of it. Thick, throbbing slightly, a thick vein running down the length of it and a drop of precum sparkling under the lights. He was huge.
“Well, what are you waiting for, little bird?” he chuckled, before he cut it off with a moan, as your lips wrapped around the tip, and you slid down as far as your jaw and throat allowed you to. He moaned as the tip hit the back of your throat and you choked slightly on it – you were dripping wet, as you began to move back and fort on his length, swallowing as much as you could, reveling in the taste of is precum. He twitched slightly and a choked moan spilled from his lips, as he thrusted forwards.
“Fuck, baby… Shit, you’re really... Fuck… Good at this…” He moaned. You smiled around his length and moved faster, hearing the choked moans above, spurring you on.
“Fuck, baby, stop, stop, stop… Stop, I’ll cum if you keep going…” You whimpered as he pulled away from you, a line of spit connecting you, and you looked up at him with big eyes. He groaned and held your chin with a large hand.
“Good girl. I want to feel you before I cum, darling.” He whispered, gently guiding you up to your feet again by your chin. He kissed you deeply before turning you around, bending you over the counter.
“Fuck, this ass… You’re a fucking wonder, baby…” He reveled, a hand falling on your ass. You moaned at the sensation and your hips bucked, exposing yourself more to him.
“Oh, look at you, doing so fucking good for me already, aren’t you?” he whispered. You moaned again.
“Henry, please…” You whimpered his name and tried to push back to get him inside of you, but he chuckled and held you tightly in place. “No, baby girl, you’re going to stay right there.” He ran a hand down your spine and slapped your ass again, forcing a whimper from you. “Now, you ask nicely, and I’ll fuck you right here, right now.” He said darkly, his hand gently running circles over your ass, sometimes dipping between your legs. You coked on a moan, and barely had the wherewithal to create a coherent sentence.
“Please, please, p-please, fuck, Henry, please… Please f-fuck me, I’m begging you-u…” His finger dipped inside of you.
“You want to feel my cock slowly slide inside of you, baby?” He asked, dragging his finger in and out painfully slow. You whimpered a broken yes. “Want to feel me dragging against your walls, huh? Want me to fill you, let my cum drip out of you?” You were a shaking mess as another finger was added.
“Y-yes…” You felt like crying. It was so good, but so torturous to feel his fingers glide so fucking slowly.
“Ah, you can do better than that, darling.” He said, bending over you – you could feel the tip of his cock against your ass, as his mouth found your neck again.
“P-please, Henry, please… I want to feel your cock in me, please…”
“Mhm… I want to fill you up, darling… I want to watch my thick cock slide in and out of your tight pussy, seeing you take me…” He rambled, fingers moving faster now, and you groaned at his words.
“Fuck, y-yes, Henry, I’m b-begging you, please…” you mewled. He withdrew his fingers too quickly for your liking, and he spat on your already soaked pussy, before lining himself up.
“You think you can take all of me right now, baby? Let my thick cock go as deep as it can, huh?” He asked, rubbing the tip against your entrance, smearing the wetness around. You nodded, desperate for anything at this point.
“No, no, that won’t do, little bird.” He tsked at you and his free hand wrapped around your hair and tugged slightly, arcing your back as your head got pulled back. You moaned loudly.
“Mhm, keep the sound down, we’re in a public area, sweetheart.” He said with a small chuckle. “Ask me and mean it.” He ordered, the tip of his throbbing cock so fucking close to glide inside of you.
“Fucking fill me, or I swear to god…” you begged, and whatever you wanted to say got lost in your throat, as he slid inside of you swiftly and in one, single thrust, bottomed out.
You shrieked in both pain and pleasure, your legs shaking and if he hadn’t kept a tight grip on your hair and waist, you’d probably collapse.
“Oh, good girl, look at you taking all of me… Sit, it looks to fucking good to see my cock in you, baby…” He mumbled. He didn’t move yet, simply allowing you to adjust. After a few seconds, you rolled your hips to let him know you were good, and he chuckled darkly.
“There’s a good, little slut, darling.” His words combined with his voice sent wetness down your thighs as he began moving, slowly at first, before picking up speed. You felt every single twitch inside of you, and he filled you to the brim. You had never been so fucking full before, and you’d never want to stop, if you were honest.
He angled himself a little better and pistoned in and out of you; you saw stars and a red-hot burning started in your abdomen seconds before your orgasm hit you; it was blinding and your legs were barely functioning as you came around him, your pussy pulling him deeper, as your thighs got soaked and he moaned.
“Fuuuuck, you’re so fucking tight, Y/N… Fuck, I’m not going to last long…” He moaned as you twitched around him and met his thrust, the sound of your skin slapping against each other filling the otherwise quiet room.
“Fucking fill me, please… I want to feel you cum, I’m b-begging you…” you moaned, almost delirious at this point. He roared and bit down on your shoulder, before he picked up speed and began fucking you fiercely, his tick and long cock hitting your cervix slightly. You mewled and another rush of wetness went down your legs, as you neared another orgasm while he whispered praise and encouragements in your ear.
“Look at that fucking… Oh, fuck…” He groaned and thrusted harder than ever, his rhythm becoming irregular. “Look at you taking me so well, darling… You’re doing so good for me, can you cum again?” He licked the spot, he had just bitten. “Can you cum for me again, baby girl? Let me… Fuck… Feel you cum again?”
As if you could deny him.
He clamped a hand over your mouth as you came wit a scream, your pussy tightening and pulsing around his length as he fucked you into oblivion. He roared with pleasure and his hand moved from your waist to your ass, grabbing it harshly before picking up speed and chased his own high. You were shaking, barely coherent as he fucked you relentlessly.
“Henry… Fuck, please… Let me feel you cum… Fuck, p-please, I want to feel you fill me, please…” You moaned his name like a prayer, and he growled before his speed stuttered.
“Fuck, baby… I’m going to fill you up, you’ll be dripping for days… I’m so fucking deep in your tight pussy…” he mumbled, his hand bruising your ass, wile he pistoned back and forth; he fell silent for half a second, before you felt him swell and twitch slightly.
“Tell me you’re mine.” He growled. “Mine.” His cock pounded you relentlessly.
“H-henry… Shit, y-yes, yes, I’m yours!” You mewled as he twitched again.
Ropes of his cum painted your insides, and you came with him as you felt the heat of his spend inside of you. Henry growled as you tightened around him again, and he jerked his hips so he was a deep as e could be, whispering praise to you, as you rode out your own orgasm.
You stayed bent over the creaky counter, sweat dripping form the both of you, his cock still inside of you, for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath.
“Shit, that was…” he whispered, kissing the bitemark on your shoulder gently. You shivered.
“Mhmm…” Words did kind of fail you at the moment. He seemed to understand whatever you meant, at any rate, and chuckled gently, before slowly pulling out with a hiss.
“Jesus Christ… You’re a fucking wonder, you know that, Y/N?” He asked, the sweetest smile painting his features. You grinned with slightly bruised lips, and pulled your shorts back up. No reason to try and clean up.
“Says you.” He bent down and grabbed the black thong, that was more string than fabric at this point, at stuffed it in the pocket of his sweatpants.
“Sentimental value, you know?” You laughed.
“Does this mean I get to see your surprise-move?” You asked jokingly. He cocked his eyebrow and a smile spread across his face – he was a goddamn Adonis.
“Well, I do have more wine in my apartment… And a bed…”
“Lead the way.”
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