#henry v x fem! reader

[smolvenger]

The Little Princess (Henry V x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: As queen of the nation and wife to Henry the Fifth, all rejoice to discover you are pregnant with your first child with your beloved husband. Only to discover, the child is not the long awaited son, but a girl...

Word Count: 5K

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 @jijilaufeyson

@anukulee @herdetectivetheorist (from your request!)

A/N: hehehehe uploading this while listening to "The Man" by Taylor Swift

Warnings: Pregnancy and childbirth in the beginning, which I try to portray as realistically as I can. I changed up what would have happened in history per the request I was given for this. No way is it accurate. But also this is fanfic world and irl Henry V wouldn't have had the luscious curls and ass of Tom Hiddleston. Mentions of sex but no smut. Baby stuff. Some angst, but lots of fluff. Grammar and spelling mistakes that missed my radar.

“Her Majesty, the Queen of England, is with child, Your Highness,” the messenger announced.

Henry had slouched, relaxed on his wooden throne. He then shot up straight. The dominant grace he held cracked for a second. His blue eyes blinked, doing his best not to stagger in his posture.

“She…she is?” he asked, almost incredulously.

The messenger nodded his head.

“Yes. The physician just examined her. He asked me to inform you of these happy tidings. And we shall pray you shall soon be blessed with an heir apparent,” he reported with a smile.

Henry found a small half laugh escape him. He smiled so wide it showed his teeth. He lowered his head, feeling a little dizzy for a second. But he knew how to regain himself quickly after his time as the ruler of England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales.

“Tell the physician we thank him for his swift and happy news,” he replied.

The messenger bowed his head and exited through the wooden doors.

Henry did his best to remain focused throughout the meetings today. But he found his head swam. You- his precious wife, beloved consort-was going to have a child- have his child. He was going to be a father, and you were going to be a mother. His entire world had changed in just a minute and he was supposed to act as normal.

Once they were declared finished, he shot up.

“I would like to visit her Majesty at once,” he declared.

“She is in her chambers, my lord,” one servant confirmed.

He hurried to where you were, the attendants right behind him. The hallways nearly spun as he walked with such a quick bounce. Not caring even if his crown was knocked out of his head.

Meanwhile, you were sitting down. Your stomach was already churning- for you had become more aware of it since this morning. You could only sit and embroider with your ladies in waiting- it was only a matter of time until-

“His majesty, the king,” a male attendant announced at the door.

 You shot up and curtsied as Henry the Fifth of Lancaster bounded in. The other ladies followed suit.

“My lord, and husband,” you replied dutifully, raising back up to face him.

Henry looked flushed, scattered even. He walked up to you and held both of your hands in his.

“My lady, do you confirm that what I heard was true? Are you…are you with child?” he asked softly. As if you were in private and not with a dozen eyes on you.

You nodded, smiling. You leaned in closer, your voice matching his quiet tone.

“Yes. Yes, I am. I know it in my heart, Harry. I’ve had no courses for months. The physician’s tests confirmed my suspicions….” you replied.

 You took his hand and moved it to your stomach. Even if it appeared normal, even if the baby was now small- it seemed even the king himself sensed the presence inside.

“Our first child is inside me now,” you said finally.

He picked you up and spun you around and kissed you. Bursting into laughter, you clutched him. He held your face and kissed you again. You, his wife, his queen, his beloved, now about to be mother to his child. Who cared if these people saw this intimacy from their lord? He was the maker of what was formal, not they. 

“We’ve prayed so long for this, my lord. You know how long we have asked God to bless us someday… and someday has arrived!!” you replied.

He held your face again, his eyes shining.

“I’ve never loved you more than this moment, Y/N,” he confessed. 

“I love you too, Harry,” you responded.

As the pregnancy passed, you dealt with each symptom with as much grace as you could. For you knew once you had a son, all would see you as more than just Henry’s pretty accessory and broodmare. You would be the mother to the next king. All would respect you and revere you far more. That brought you through the mornings of nausea and sudden, intense cravings for certain foods.

What was best was the nighttime before sleep. Henry defied court tradition and insisted he wanted to join you in your chambers. Even though there was the advice that he avoid his marital duties until after the baby arrived, to risk any lustful acts harming the child inside you. To have a misteress to pleasure him as you carried the child was out of the question for Harry of England. He would prefer to fall on his sword instead.

The truth was, you didn’t need to perform any act of lust with your husband to be with him. You both could sit in silence. Read books and play chess or little games. Discuss anything and everything. Even to lay in bed and to hold each other. And how your heart burst with love as you felt his hand on his stomach and heard him talk to the child.  Even placing little kisses on there. When the baby first kicked, you put his hand there to feel. You both grinned and kissed each other. That was as intimate as anything with your bodies entwining. Whispering names and hopes for the little child. Said little prayers for a safe delivery for you. For the baby in your stomach to survive past infancy. To survive to an adult. One that would always know how much their mother and father wanted and loved them.

When the time came for confinement, the time when you would stay only in your private chambers in the ninth month away from the court, including Henry, to help guarantee a safe delivery. Your heart beat fast. Your stomach was so large that you could only waddle rather than walk. Henry only kissed you, gently tracing your face. Promising that only if there was a crisis would he break down the doors and run to your side. 

For days you sat in your rooms. It became stuffy and dark as they closed the curtains, the priests carrying incense throughout and blessing what was going to be the birthing bed. You sat there, sweating, and feeling both the immense fear of your death and the fear of the pain.

 At last, one early morning, your water broke. Hyperventilating and crying, you awoke a lady in waiting to run to get the midwife. You were shaking, pain scorching as the baby was starting to get ready to emerge. You knew what would happen, and yet when it began, you felt thrown into the unknown. You were so frightened, you let out screams as the contractions began. They fetched the birthingThere was the delivery, you cried your way through the pain. 

“Harry- where is Harry? Where is my husband? I’m so frightened! Please! Where is he!?” you cried, your vision blurry with tears.

“This is not the place for your husband to be, your Majesty. The Lords thought it best he be kept away for now. But how proud he would be of you now- you’re doing well- the baby’s coming out fine!” the midwife encouraged you. “Keep pushing, my lady! I see the head!”

You were sweaty and disgusting and at your most primal, far from the elegant and regal woman they all saw in public. Blood and fluids, including some embarrassing ones, had come out during the labor which was all being cleaned up after it was spilled.

The hours dragged on in torture. The midwife yelling encouragements through your hot face full of tears. You felt sick, even faint, as you pushed the child out from between your legs. Sitting on the stool with the midwife over, every lady in waiting dabbed your burning forehead and squeezed your hand through each push.

Then, finally, a cry came out. But not from your voice. A baby’s cry. You let out a shaky breath of relief.

 Alive. The child was alive. As were you.

You caught your breath, panting hard. One lady in waiting grinned at you-

“Well done, Your Majesty!” she praised.

You let out a gasp as the afterbirth crawled out. But it was easy and painless compared to a child and slipped easily into the below pot placed for it. A maid grimaced but took it away. You heard the click of a knife as the cord on the child was cut. Another warm cloth went over the tiny, wrinkled newborn as it wailed and wailed. You felt dizzy, the red curtains of your chambers swimming around. Then you came to.

The heir. The heir apparent. Henry’s heir- Henry’s heir was here. The one purpose for which you were made wife to the king was now fulfilled-

“It’s a girl,” the midwife announced. 

The child was in the midwife’s arms. your eyes noticed the lower half of the baby’s body. She was correct. 

For a second, your heart stopped. The world stopped. 

There was a slight silence in the room. It wasn’t like the eruptious joy that would have followed had it been the opposite.

The baby still cried heartily. They swaddled her- not the long-awaited him, her. For that was what the baby that was your constant companion inside you for months was. Not the long-awaited male heir for the Lancaster line. No- a daughter. And what is a daughter, but a disappointment?

In those seconds, your mind reeled. Your belly was empty now for the first time in over a year. You had disappointed the nation- there would be no heir to the Lancaster throne. Not yet. You had let down the court. Mothering a son brought special respect and privilege.

And, most of all, worst of all, you let down Henry. The one person you loved most of all. And that hurt the worst. 

The baby wailed. A high, piercing, harsh cry. Ladies in waiting gathered around and fussed. The midwife cleared out the mucus and fluids covering the newborn. Still, the crying rang through the room like harsh bells.

You wondered briefly if it would have been better if you didn’t recover and died from this than face the humiliation.

Wrapping some swaddling over the crying newborn, they handed her over to you.

“Here, hold her, your majesty. She seems a healthy, beautiful little girl,” the midwife announced.

The tiny, wrinkled babe at first didn’t seem beautiful. 

Then the bundle was placed in your arms and the baby stopped crying at once.

You looked down at her.

Something inside you broke.

She was….small. So small for your great pain. Her tiny face, the tiniest little hands, and hte tiniest head. She was fragile. Could you remember when you were brought to court to marry the king? You were just as fragile, as naive, as alone without protection- who knows what would have happened if Henry had been so gentle and patient with you, if you hadn’t grown to fall in love with him and he with you.

She nestled to you, her crying ceasing. Clinging to you. She didn’t know so many things…but she knew you were her mother.

And she trusted you to protect her. 

A new feeling burst on you. You were not afraid of facing humiliation from the men of court…you were afraid of failing her. She reached a hand and began to coo. Making tiny little noises like that of a mouse. You held up your hand and she held onto your finger- settling close to you. 

“Hello, my dear…hello…” you murmured. The pain seemed even more distant. 

Tears came down you again and you felt yourself smile. You loved her. This tiny, beautiful, and unwanted girl.

One lady in waiting reached for you and you barked at them.

“Get away from her! Don’t touch her!” you yelled out, the tears running down your face, your breasts heavy with milk that was not going to be used, and the hotness in your body flushing to anger. You held the bundle closer to yourself.

You understood the instincts of bears, how they would rip men into pieces if they dared tread near the den of their cubs. If anyone- anyone- haughty courtiers that were so stuck in their ways that they had nothing better to do with their time other than harm an innocent child- incapable of fighting, of proper speech, of defending herself- you would have murdered them. And you would have enjoyed it.

She cried only a little, startled by your voice. You rocked her and shushed her, kissing her forehead. 

“Hello, hello- I’m your mother, don’t be frightened, my dear, I’ve waited a while to meet you, shhhh. Mother is here, you’ll be safe. I’m sorry I surprised you, shhh,” you whispered.

The midwife approached you cautiously.

“Your majesty…the baby must be cleaned further. Do not worry- she will be safe…” she assured you. And your good sense one- for the midwife had delivered hundreds of babes and you knew the girl was in good hands.

You looked down again at your baby, still somewhat patched and bloody. For that, you handed her over.

Henry was tending to his stallion in the stables. The white one was his personal favorite. He often enjoyed being the one to hand the horse hay and feel it nibble form his hand. His attendants just beside him to see to anything, wanting to do anything to distract their lord and sovereign as he anxiously awaited news of his beloved wife.

 A lady in waiting arrived inside and their heads turned like deer. She took a few steps forward and curtsied low. Henry gestured for her to rise.

“How is the queen? It was early morn when the birthing began. Tell me- Does she live?” he asked anxiously.

“Her majesty lives. She is delivered of a…a princess,” reported the lady.

There was a slight silence. A greyness washed over the faces of the lords. Frowns remained on their faces, but their eyes were kept on Henry.

Henry took a moment. He was still, his face unreadable. He then replied.

“The babe is fine?” 

“Yes, the babe is fine, born healthy,” she answered.

He broke into a relieved half laugh and smile.

“May- may I see my them?” he asked.

The lady nodded. “Yes, the midwife said you may.”

Henry gave the lady a nod.

“We most heartily accept these joyous tidings, sweet lady. I shall see her anon,” he said.

At once, he broke into a jaunty walk. He burst from the stables, and up the stone steps, through the hallways into his wife’s chambers. He was far faster than some of the stuffier, older lords could keep up with They had a hand on their heads for their hats and puffed as their legs attempted to keep up with their lord.

 Confinement seemed like his sweet angel was torn from him to another world and not another part of the castle. But he bounced up the steps. The sweet temptation to burst through those doors for weeks was finally relieved. 

He at once raised a knuckle and knocked on the doors. There were feminine gasps and murmurs on the other side. 

And another sound, something light, a little voice- that of a baby. And his heart picked up.

There were no servants or lords, so he announced.

“It is his majesty, the king of England.”

One lady opened and they all bowed low. Even the few ladies in the corner trying to get rid of sheets full of blood discreetly. But Henry was a man who had seen battles and once killed the famed Hotspur himself- what was more blood to him?

You laid in your bed, holding the little babe. Your heart racing hard, fighting not to break and cry and yet you found yourself smiling at him. His curls swept back from the wind of his rush and his blue eyes wide as he saw you. 

He came forward and knelt next to the bed in a few short strides. He took your hand in his and kissed it.

“How is my lady?” he asked.

“I’m…I’m fine,” you replied in a choking voice. Glad to see him again, glad you were alive to experience all this.

You looked down at the swaddled child.

“Here is…here is your daughter, my lord…” you presented.

You waited for the stormy look on his face, hoping your smile would relieve it.  But Henry the Fifth merely loosened his shoulders. His jaw dropped then broke into a smile as he saw her.

“May I hold her?” he asked.

You brought her into his arms. She seemed ot know her father, for she settled easily. He rocked her, and kissed her forehead. Happiness beaming everywhere on his face. 

“Mary…that is what we agreed, my lady, if it was a girl…would you still like that to be her name?” he said sofly.

You nodded.

He looked around the crowd. The lord and attendants finally arrived inside, staring with wide eyes.

“Today is a special day- for we celebrate the birth of the Princess Mary. Named in memory of my mother. And we are all going to celebrate. I would like there to be a joust and a feast as well when she is christened, all for the safe arrival of Her Highness, the Princess of Wales- And please note, I want a portrait of the joust commissioned-”

Henry looked back at you sitting up on the bed.

“I want my queen in the center, on a seat- beautiful as she is and shining bright, as a testament of my love for her…”

Folding your hands, you smiled back up at him. Exhaustion and love warming your insides. Joy seeping through to where you thought you would float.

“And I ask for a second portrait be of all of us- for we are now the royal family,” Henry finished.

The courtiers nodded solemnly with plenty of “yes, my lord” repeating from their lips. For none would dare cross the king.

They departed, leaving you both alone for the first time in weeks. Mary wiggled a little in her father’s arms. He sat on the bed and smiled at you. You laid a hand on his arm.

“Harry, all of this fuss! Should you save such grand celebrations for when we have a son?” you asked.

“No, sweetling. Our child is born alive and healthy- and with her in my arms, I’m too overjoyed, that her sex does not matter right now,” he responded.

“But…your heir!” you cried.

He smiled and his eyes lowered to his baby.

“ I have three brothers. There’s more than enough heirs. There’s no need to panic…”

He leaned close.

“And with my lovely wife naked in my bed again… once she is better…how can I resist a night where we can create another beautiful child? Wouldn’t our little Mary be happy having a brother to play with and tease and scold over?”

You playfully shook your head with laughter and swatted his arm lightly.

“My lord, you are unappeasable!” you teased.

“And I have missed you too, my lady,” he replied.

Both of you kissed as May began to cry again.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

How incredible a nursery they had built for her. The rockers- two people set up to stay awake all night to rock the baby to sleep- curtsied low. It seemed that despite the disappointment, they were charmed with the sweet little baby. Her little noises that cackled about. Her adorable squeaks that made won people over. How you loved to call her “my little mouse!” when you visited to hold and rock her. For Mary would always nestle and wish to be held. She had no thoughts of being a great Princess of the Sacred Isle yet. She was an infant who only wanted to be cared for and loved.

The joust came and went. The artists got right to work for their commissions. The christening was a holiday throughout the nation. Bells rang as the Bishop blessed Mary in the church with all the nation watching. 

At the feast afterward, many gathered around to glimpse at their new princess, cloaks and hats and long skirts crowding around the official cradle made for state events. It was decorated with the arms of the Lancaster house. Plush red fabrics draped the inside- the colors considered traditional for her father. It measured seven and a half feet long and two and a half feet wide. The guests invited could look at the infant from a safe distance. You couldn’t help but awe at the creation-  all for one tiny baby inside! How small she looked compared to the great size of the thing! They must have thought her a giant child, not a human one!

There was no better, no more doting father than Henry the Fifth. It seemed that the only concern about a male heir came from his courtiers. And their protests and reminders fell deaf on his majesty’s ears. Even in public events where she was placed in the state cradle, Henry would stay to stand guard near it. He was not too much of a man that he was beneath wishing to hold her. He would bend up and use one arm to hold her crimson swaddling. 

“I am the Father of the Nation. Of my subjects, as much as she.” he would declare, one hand up to gently touch his little daughter.

How often you stayed in that nursery, amazed at her. The nursemaids tell you everything about what a baby did and why they did it. For even if she was not yours to raise, your curiosity would get to you- and how much every day she would grow and change! Just a month later and she was big enough you wondered how she got out of you!

One night later at dinner, Henry wished to have her cradle nearby so you could eat with her. Little Mary let out a hearty cry out of nowhere.

You jumped- for it was loud and sharp. She did not wail often in her father’s presence.  But Henry merely tilted his head.

“Now, what is the matter, lambkin?” he asked the baby.

She continued to cry. He picked her up. A hand over her head and her bum, placing her on his arm.

“What troubles you so, Fair little chuck-hm? Would you like a kiss from your father? Would it cheer you?”

He gave her a kiss on her warm cheek. She calmed down a little. Then she began to cry again. Your husband shot up his eyebrows in confusion. But you listened carefully to the quality of the sound of her wailing- this one was low-pitched, repeating its rhythms.

“My lord, the nurses tell me that kind of cry means she is hungry.”

With a smile on your face, you asked a servant to send for the wet nurse. Henry only widened his eyes in awe. 

“Well, my lady, tell me…what have you learned from them about the crying of babes?” he asked in curiosity. 

One day- after certain parliament sessions, you returned to the nursery. You heard her crying again- the sort she did when fussing. For you only wished to…to be with her, see her- for her childhood to be as good a one as you could afford for her.

Once inside, you saw one maid trying to ring her rattle. The other maid held her up to see it. But it was doing no good for little Mary who kept crying.

You walked inside and the little girl paused. She began to smile and kick her feet, her crying ceasing. She was even reaching two chubby arms towards you. 

How could you have hated that she wasn’t a son when she was born? What were you even thinking with such joy and such love this little girl had for you?

Reaching over, you brought her up.

“Hello, my lovely girl, how are you?” you asked. You brought her up to yourself.

 Smelling how well they bathed her. How she was indeed a sweet girl who only wished to be held and loved! You kissed her forehead.

The maids smiled.

“She does that when she misses you,” one reported.

But you never forgot the day you heard her laugh for the first time. It was the fourth month after the birth. Returning inside after strolling the gardens with the ladies, his majesty not being present. You assumed he was discussing something with the Prussian ambassador or shooting his arrows. You passed by the hallway with the nursery. You heard a small sound. Like the tinkling of bells-

It was Mary- her first laugh- you felt a gasp. And another followed- a masculine one right after- a certain laugh you knew like your hand.

Could it be… was it…?

Curiosity overcame you and you opened the door, Henry was sitting on the floor, holding her up above him and she was laughing, clapping her chubby hands. He laughed too.

You burst with love and put a hand over your mouth. The servants watching were flabbergasted. Seeing the sovereign himself playing with her, lifting her in the air and moving her about as she wriggled. You walked in and Henry still held her and leaned up.

“I believe you are enjoying yourself, my lord?” you asked.

“Mary loves it when her father makes her fly like a bird, I discovered,” he said. “You should have seen her with the ambassador's son. So used is she to men with beards, that when the shaven youth stepped forward, she stared at him like a wonder of the world!” he recalled. “Oh, and the little dear is rolling over. She can roll over to one side, but cannot roll back. And when she does, she can only cry in frustration!” he reported excitedly.

You grinned and kissed his cheek. Both of you admiring the new gown on the princess. When there was money left over in the budget, Henry would find ways to spoil her with toys and dresses. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Months passed. You and Henry waited until the time was right, when you were ready for his bed, for acts that would put his seed inside you... But…you were having trouble conceiving again.

You took advice from the physician, recalling every embarrassing martial act out loud to the old man. You devoured certain herbs prescribed to you like a rabbit. Even mixing them into drinks when you could.

Yet…your courses returned as normal.

But you began to wonder…perhaps Mary was the only child you would have. And part of you mourned. Wishing for the large, happy family you both whispered to each other at night early on in your marriage. Secretly envious of women who boasted of their broods so easily conceived. 

One evening, you sat by the fire with your husband and child after dinner. Mary was asleep in the cradle in your private room. You rocked it gently, hoping she would stay asleep when the servants would come to fetch her to her nursery. Already she was big and big, more fussy from the teeth she grew.

Henry walked by you and placed an arm around you.

“What ails you, darling?” he asked.

You looked up at him.

“I am just worried, Harry… if…what if…what if she is the only one I will have…” you mourned.

 Henry looked into it and said. “I think it would be wise if Mary was made my heir.”

You blinked, your jaw dropped.

“What- but husband-I have not a problem with it, but others will! But the parliament, the lords…they will refuse. They will hate her…even hurt her!” you replied.

He remained still, resolute. But his voice was soft. 

“I am their king. My word is law and final. The lords, no matter what they think, must follow as I say…and if she is the one of my line, she is the one of my line…Mary will be queen. A good queen. A queen who will lead England to prosperity.”

The fire cracked more. Both of you looked at the peaceful, sleeping baby. So lovingly tucked into her soft nightdress and snuggled into blankets.

“She can barely talk yet.”

He smiled.

“She has your blood. And if that is the case, then there is no one I trust more than her…”

There was a grand announcement. Shock ran like a storm through the country. Though yes, the lords all complained and bemoaned a female heir, Henry made sure the ceremony was grand. It didn’t matter if they liked it or not, England had its heir. 

There was a grand ceremony. The stony throne room decorated with grand emblems. A crowd gathered as you and Henry dressed in red velvets. Though she was getting a little heavier, you still held her high. Your face raised as every icon of another Mary with Her Child, and just as dignified, perhaps as important.

“I now announce her grace, The Princess Mary of Wales, is the heir to the throne. She shall succeed me- and all of you must honor my wife, Her Majesty, as the mother to your next ruler and honor her highness as the queen to follow,” Henry announced, his beard neatly trimmed and his golden crown beaming on his head.

“Her majesty-Princess Mary. And one day, Queen Mary of England. Long live the queen!” he declared.

“Long live the queen.” the crowd repeated.

It was the day the artist said he would show the works he painted. The small, dark-haired, bearded man went up to the first one, covered in a cloth. He pulled it off with a flourish as all took it in.

The first in the joust showed you sitting on your throne as Henry rode his white stallion to defeat his opponent. You seemed to be glowing. In bright colors that shone when light caught it. Placed in the center where all would see, decorated and beautiful.

The artist went to a second painting covered in a cloth. He removed it.

There stood the three of you standing in the church in bright,  The child in your arms and Henry by your side. The three of you appeared just as grand, even Immortal. 

You had not failed your husband. You had not failed the nation. You had provided an heir after all. And all would be well.

You looked over little Mary, leaning close to press a kiss to her temple and whisper to her.

“Long may you reign, my little dove.”

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Don't Kill My Vibe

Title: Don’t Kill My Vibe

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

Warnings: mention of a breakup, recreational drug use (marijuana), friends-to-lovers trope, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids

A/N: This is an AU where Clark Kent is not superpowered and Superman does not exist. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

It wasn’t the first time Clark asked to try some bud, but it was the most pathetic. His gorgeous blue eyes were puffy from crying over that woman. As much as you wanted to say, “I told you so," you didn’t want him to feel any worse about the failed relationship with his reporter beau, Lois Lane.

And yet again, you think to yourself, ‘Fuck Lois Lane’.

When he showed up at your place an hour ago in sweatpants, sneakers, and a button-up pullover, you were surprised to see he opted for something other than his normal flannel and jeans. His hair was mussed, and he avoided eye contact with you. Something was wrong.

You dragged him into your apartment, turning down your Spotify playlist on the Bluetooth speakers so you could talk over the mellow tunes. While you flopped down on your couch, Clark sat down slowly and sighed.

You were already elevated, having taken a couple of puffs from your blue and red glass bowl earlier, so you were struggling to pay attention to everything he was saying. You tried to put on your “I’m not high” face and nod enough, saying “Oh wow” occasionally. But, in actuality, your eyes were as red as the Devil’s dick, and Clark wasn’t stupid.

His eyes looked from yours to the tray on the coffee table that held your various assortments of smoking apparatus, grinder, lighter, and stash box. Leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, he motioned his chin toward everything and said, “I know you’ve said no a million times, but I could use an escape. And before you say no again, know I’ve tried all the tricks in the book to get over somebody, and nothing is working.” 

“I have a feeling there’s another thing you haven’t tried either, but whatever,” you rattled on, waving off his confused expression. “Fine. It should be illegal for you to use those puppy eyes when asking me for something, by the way.”

So here you are, preparing a strawberry cone for you and Clark to share. You were always weird about people using your favorite bowl. You also figure that for a first-timer, it would be the easiest for him to start with. Twisting the end after filling the cone, you reach for the lighter and ashtray.

“First things first,” you purr, using your phone to turn the music up. “Now, watch what I do. I’m going to draw the smoke into my mouth and then hold it for a few seconds, or as long as I can, before blowing it back out. Ready?”

Clark nods as he turns toward you, tucking one leg under the other. Now that you have his full attention, you suddenly feel flustered. Casting your eyes downward, you take the cone into your mouth and light the end. You inhale deeply and take it out of your mouth. Savoring the citrus flavor of the strain, your tongue licks your lips, and you exhale. 

You close your eyes and take a few breaths. After a moment, you hear Clark’s voice breaking through your haze: “Everything good?”

Your eyes pop open, and just like nothing happened, you perk up. Handing him the cone, you blink as he holds it like someone who has never smoked. You’ve known Clark long enough that you have a suspicion that is probably true for him. 

He’s polite, almost to a fault. He screams Boy Scout, altar boy, and ‘promise ring’ all at the same time. What can you say? Clark was a good boy. And you were getting him high. You little devil! 

Clark takes a short pull from the pink-colored joint and manages to hold it for about two seconds, then attempts to exhale. A small plume escapes his mouth, he inhales sharply and has a coughing fit. You take the joint back before he drops it and sit it in the ashtray.

Rubbing his back, you try to talk him through catching his breath. You grab your water bottle and hold the straw to his mouth when he nods his thanks. He sips the water, then clears his throat loudly, burping up a bit of smoke. He laughs quickly as he sees it exit his mouth, reminding you of a little surprised dragon.

“That was fun,” he sputters, his voice deeper than usual.

“It gets easier, Clark. Trust me, coughing is normal. And most of the time, coughing gets you higher,” you laugh, picking up the joint to take another hit.

You inhale, exhaling into the air, and hold it out for Clark to take again. He sips from your water bottle and gives it to you in exchange for the joint.

Holding it between two fingers, he brings it to his lips. You watch his mouth curl around the tip, and your brain conjures up the vision of what else that boy’s mouth can do. He takes the joint out of his mouth, holding his breath for a few seconds, then blows it out slowly. He gives it back to you and leans back against the couch.

“I don’t think I feel any different yet. How long does it take to kick in?” he asks, crossing his arms and pouting.

It being his first time, he is completely unaware that he is already high. His body language is different; Clark Kent doesn’t slouch even a little. He also certainly doesn’t fidget; his hands suddenly become very interested in the material of his pullover.

“You’ll feel it sooner than you think,” you mumble, the joint between your lips as you speak.

Twenty minutes later, Clark tells you exactly what the last straw was that ended his relationship with Lois. He pauses to take a hit, handing it back to you as he exhales. “But it was always whatever she wanted. I treat her like a queen. And she goes and blows Jimmy-fucking-Olsen. Then she lies about it after Jimmy comes clean to me. I…,” he trails off, looking over at you and shaking his head as he laughs.

“What?” you question when you realize he stops talking.

“Nothing. I just… I think I’m high,” he giggles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling when he smiles at you.

“Besides being high, can you describe how you feel?” You press, wanting to know just how high he is.

“I feel lighter. Clear…er? Is it clearer or more clear? Whatever. I think I also just figured out how I want to finish that article on The Wayne Foundation,” he explains, leaning back so he is lying on his back with his head on your lap. “Is this ok? Your lap looked so comfortable,” he wonders aloud, looking up at you.

That’s when you realize three fundamental truths at the same time. 

1. Clark is single. 

2. Clark is literally in your lap.

3. The crush you have on Clark is swiftly turning into lustful infatuation.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you smile at him and say, “Yeah, of course it’s ok.” You focus on the heat radiating from your best friend as he makes himself comfortable so close to your thirsty pussy. 

“You are the best,” he replies, closing his eyes as your hand finds its way into his curls.

“This cool?” you dare, hoping that you can continue to push the boundary between friendship and something more.

As if the groan from the back of his throat wasn’t enough, he voices his satisfaction. “More than cool. I love having my hair played with. Feel free to go to town on me.”

Oh, the importance of phrasing.

This man is not going to make it easy on you.

You’re explaining to Clark about that episode of Bob’s Burgers where Bob and Linda accidentally get high after eating cookies laced with marijuana at their accountant’s office. “So, anyway. Bob, Linda, and the accountant build a pillow fort from the cushions on his couch, and somehow it makes them feel safer which I get because pillow forts were the height of safety when we were kids. And sometimes, people feel safer thinking about the simplicity of their childhood,” you rattle on, leaning forward to grab your water bottle and forgetting about Clark’s head, which is still very much in your lap.

An oomph is spoken into your boobs, and you shoot straight up to a standing position and knock Clark off your lap and onto the floor. 

“Shit!” he cries from his spot on the floor.

“Fuck, Clark! I’m so sorry! Are you ok?” You cringe, your hand touching your forehead as you watch him pull himself up.

“Hey, hey. It’s cool, I’m fine,” he reassures, his hand grabbing yours to take it away from your face. With the other hand, he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Tilting your head up, he smiles and counters, “Are you ok?”

Yeah. Fine. My tits were just thrust into your face for a bit there. Oh, and you have no idea that I like you. And that pesky curl is falling into your pretty eyes again. And your handsome face is close enough to-

One second, you’re staring at his smile; the next second, you’re attacking his mouth with yours. His lips are just as pillowy and soft as they look. At first, the kiss is timid. Surprise gives way to need as he deepens the kiss. His tongue seeks solace as it slides against the seam of your lips. Granting him entry, he licks into your mouth like an explorer discovering new lands. 

His hands find their way to your hips, bringing you impossibly close. He feasts on every whimper that leaves you, peppering in some moans of his own. This is the kiss of a man waiting for a moment like this. At least, that’s how it feels.

Begrudgingly, you slowly break away from Clark. His kiss-swollen pink lips beg to be reunited with yours, but you must prove this is real. You look up into his dilated eyes, noting how blue is almost completely taken over by black. 

You open your mouth to speak, but Clark beats you to it.

“Unless you are about to tell me you don’t want this, please just kiss me again,” he breathes, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t know what’s more intoxicating. This drug or having you so close to me.”

Instead of worrying about what this means, you throw caution to the wind. Tilting your head, you slot your lips with his, devouring the subtle whimper that escapes him. From nervous to commanding, you feel Clark’s demeanor change as his hands wander over your body.

He picks you up by the waist, your legs instinctually wrapping around him. With you in his arms, he walks blindly to your bedroom. Once he lays you down, he covers your body with his. The hard length against your mound gives you pause, but you quickly recover as you angle your hips to meet his.

Clark breaks the kiss to sit up and remove his pullover and shirt. A pink hue dusts his cheeks as he watches you scan his torso while you bite your lip. Leaning down, he tugs at the hem of your shirt, wanting you to get rid of it. 

You oblige, now topless in front of your best friend for the first time. You don’t have time to freak out over that information because Clark hooks his fingers in your leggings, his eyes begging for permission. You raise your hips, and he pulls them down your legs along with your underwear. 

You sit up as he chucks his sweatpants, his heavy erection now visible. Your first thought is, “Now that is a pretty dick.”

“Thank you,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You wonder aloud, already knowing the answer.

Clark smiles, nodding at you before coaxing you to lay back. He sinks between your legs, holding them open to kiss your thighs. He teases you a bit, licking and nipping at your mound and outer labia until you wiggle your hips and whine. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Patience, please,” he cautions, shaking his head at you. He winks at you, diving fully into your snatch and sucking your clit between his lips. 

You throw your head back in ecstasy as his tongue slides over your swollen button. Humming while sucking on your nub is a fucking power move, and your hands tangle in his hair. You dig your heels into his back as he laps up the juices that accumulate at your entrance. Looking down at him as he worships at the altar of your body, you are taken aback as he peeks up at you over your mound.

With your eyes locked on each other, he watches as he tips you right over the edge. He groans into your pussy, his mouth and chin soaked, as your walls contract around nothing. The euphoria of being high mixes with the joy of being with someone new for the first time.

But this isn’t just anybody; this was your best friend. Warmth and comfort exist between you, allowing you to feel safe enough to fall and that Clark will catch you.

You come down as he plants a kiss on your mound, grazing his lips up your tummy. When he is back above your face, he runs the tip of his dick across your wet folds. He maintains eye contact while he slides in for the first time. 

Once he is fully seated inside you, he lets you adjust to his size before he withdraws slightly and thrusts forward. The wet squelch of your pussy and the smack of your bodies against one another are music to your ears. Clark’s grunts as he fucks into you only fuel your impending second climax.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Too good. Not going to last long,” he warns, sitting up on his knees as his hands go to your waist. Throwing his head back, he growls and picks up the pace, using your body like his personal fucktoy.

Your back arches as he repeatedly hits that hidden bundle of nerves. A searing fire erupts in your belly as your cunt clamps down on his dick, spasming and coating it with your cream.

“Good girl! That’s it. Fucking come for me, just like that,” he encourages. “Oh, shit. I’m right fucking behind you. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck.”

You lock your legs around his waist, keeping him right where he is as his dick spasms and fills you to the brim. Your hands smooth down his big chest, feeling the muscles ripple as he comes down from what is probably the most intense orgasm he has ever felt. He stills soon enough, breathing back to normal as his softening length slips from you.

Flopping down next to you, Clark wraps an arm around you. You curl into his side, an arm across his stomach, and a leg thrown over his. Contented silence fills the room as you both take in this unforeseen turn of events.

Clark’s hand makes idle patterns on your back as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You close your eyes for only a moment, missing Clark smiling at you. He gives you a quick peck on the top of your head, causing you to tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“You hungry?” you guess, feeling a bit peckish yourself.

“Yes!” he exclaims.

“Good. I know a great place down the street that makes the best samosas. Does Indian food sound good?” you ask, already tasting the rich spices of the food.

“Sounds perfect,” he says, picking up his arm to let you get up from the bed to grab your phone, watching your hips sway as you walk out to the other room.

Once back in bed, you order various dishes for the both of you. While you wait for the food, you pass a joint back and forth and steal a kiss or two. You decide there is plenty of time for you and Clark to talk. There is no use in killing the vibe for heavy stuff.

With the way Clark is looking at you, there’s not much to talk about anyway. 

🍃The End🍃

A/N: I would love to know what you think!!! Feedback is appreciated!

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Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁If your name is crossed out, I couldn't tag you. For some reason, I could tag everyone this time....if you are tagged, but were not notified, please let me know.

[ghostlyloversworld]

♡*♡∞:｡.｡ Pretty boy ｡.｡:∞♡*♡

Henry V(Hal) x Fem Reader!

Idea- Hal is not happy but his favorite girl helps him clam down

Side note- I love Timothee as Hal 😭 also happy Easter

Waring-use of Y/n! Kinda spicy but not a lot,

Song- my boo by Usher Ft. Alicia Keys

There's always that one person that will always have your heart you never see it coming cause you're blinded from the start.

Hal huffed angering being shown on his face after one of his trusted men had messed up almost making Henry seem like he didn't know what he was doing. "What do you want?" He sneered at a maid who looks down "nothing your majesty.. " she muttered terrified of His anger

"So why are you here" Hal said looking at her with that look of anger still being on his face but the maid knew not to look up ".. Im-im just trying to do my job you're majesty" she said softly "well do it somewhere else" his teeth grinding together with the pure anger he felt in the moment

Know that You're that One for me It's clear for everyone to see. Oh, baby, ooh ( Yeah, uh, uh, uh) (you gotta Rockaway to this one, c'mon) you will always be my boo.

He started to pace around the room. Holding his hand up to his mouth Hal didn't seem to notice his wife opening the door and walking in before gently shutting the door. She watched as Hal paces around the Room "Henry.. Hal" when she called out to him he stop pacing and looks at her "Y/n.." He said softly

His wife crosses her arms "what did you do to Ally.. The poor woman was so terrified of walking down the hallway" she said with a stern tone to her gentle voice he sighs "I didn't mean to.. It's just one of my men almost made a fool out of me.. " she sighs "I get that.. But don't take your anger out on her... She's done nothing to you"

See, I don't know 'bout y'all, but I know about us and, uh it's the only way we know how to rock. I don't know 'bout y'all, but I know about us and, uh it's the only way we know how to rock do you remember girl? I was the one who gave you your first kiss

Cause I remember girl, I was the one who said "put your lips like this" Even before all the fame and people screaming you're name Girl I was there when you were my baby

Y/n uncrossed her arms before walking over to Hal she gently puts her hands on his arm ".. Do you wanna sit down and talk about how it happened?" He takes a deep breath "please.. " he knew his wife would never sell out this personal information to the world to know. That was one of the reasons he even married the daughter of France

She walks him over to the desk. She sits on the edge of the disk as Hal sits in the chair ".. Just tell me when you're ready" she muttered. Hal looks at her with love "one of my most trusted men had almost made a fool of me when he almost said to much to someone. But I guess it made me mad.. Since I want to keep the crown" she gently rubbed his shoulders as she listened to him speak

It started when we were younger, you were mine (my boo). Now another brother's taken over. But it's still in your eyes (my boo), even though we used to argue, it's alright (my boo) I know we haven't seen each other in a while

Hal gently wrapped his arms around his wife's waist he looks at her before gently kissing her. What? He couldn't help himself it caught his wife off guard Making her giggle before she even kissed him back

Hal deepens the kiss as soon as he felt his wife kiss back. He gently pulled on her bottom lip making her gasp a little causing Hal to smirk against her lips Y/n slips one of her hands up and gently puts her hand on Hal's face

But you will always be my boo. I was in love with you when we were younger, you were mine (my boo) , and I see it from time to time, I still feel like (my boo) and I can see it no matter how I try to hide (my boo) and even though there's another man who's in my life you will always be my boo

Hal gently lifted Y/n up making her wrapped her arms around him as they kept kissing. Hal pulled away and gently brings his face to her neck, he started to kiss her neck making her gently gasp at the feeling of his cold lips against her warm neck. She didn't hate the feeling but it made her feel weird

Yes. I remember boy 'Cause after we kissed, I could only think about your lips. Yes I remember boy the moment I knew you were the one I could spend my life with even before all the fame and everyone screaming your name. I was there and you were my baby

it started when we were younger you were mine (my boo) now, another brother's taken over, but its still in your eyes. (my boo). Even though we used to argue its alright, my (boo) I know we haven't seen each other in a while.

Hal's hand started to hitch up her dress making her close her eyes until she said softly "no Hal.. Not here at least.. Where everyone could walk in and see us" she giggles when he gently bites down on her neck

But you will always be my boo. I was in love with you when we were younger, you were mine (my boo). And I see it from time to time, I still feel like (my boo) , and I can see it, no matter how I tried to hide (my boo)

Hal pulled away from her neck "mm.. You're no fun" he huffed "oh really?" She looks at him with that grin and she said teasing him "sleep by yourself tonight then" "no no.. I take it back" he said softly

And even death there's another man who's in my life, you will always be oh, my oh, my oh, my oh, my boo. My oh, my oh, my oh, my boo. It started when we were younger, you were mine, (my boo)

Now, another bother' taking over, but it's still in your eyes, (my boo.) even though we used to argue it's alright, my babe, I know we haven't seen each other in a while. But you will always be my boo.

I don't know about y'all, but I know about us and uh it's the only way we know how to rock. It started when we were younger, my boo.

Taglist- none

[mel-vaz]

Chapter 2 of the King 2019

In the apartment, Hal and Y/n are making love to one another. 

Y/n: Henry we need to talk

Hal: why must we talk when I'm show you my love

Y/n: You should go see your father.

Hal Kiss y/n try to stop her from talking.

Hal: do not mention that man in our house

Y/n: Henry I know that you do not have a good relationship with him but he is your father. Maybe he is summoning you to apologize.

Hal: I will not go to that horrible place and we are not to speak of this again. Do you understand?

Hal is snoring, he is sleeping naked on top of Y/n their legs are intertwined with his face on her bare chest. Falstaff enters the couple's home. He opens the curtain, stirring the Y/n. Hal doesn’t stir. 

Y/n: it is too early for your foolishness. Falstaff go home. 

Falstaff: He needs to go see his father. 

Y/n: I have Falstaff, he will not listen to me.

Falstaff: A Man who does not listen to his wife is asking for death. 

Y/n gets up and moves Hal's body off of her, She gives Hal a quick kiss. Looking at him with so much love and affection 

Y/n(whispers to Hal); My heart you need to wake up. (to Falstass) all go make breakfast. 

Falstaff I’m sorry to interrupt your slumber. 

HAL What are you doing?

Hal speaks muffled, groggy, face smudged into the pillow.

Falstaff: Visit with your father.

Hal: Go away. 

Falstaff: If your father is indeed enough gravely ill to request your presence, then you must visit with him - it should be better to regret having done so than it would to have not. No matter your feelings for him. If your father is ill, you must visit with him. And - let me add - I say it not out of concern for our king’s well-being, more for fear of the drunken soak to which you be likely to succumb should you fail to heed his call and he were to die without you having squared your ledger... I fear it would be soak enough to put even me to shame. If not for yourself then for Y/n, 

Hal stares at Falstaff, lucid and penetrating, with his one eye not smudged into the pillow. Falstaff watches Hal a moment. 

Falstaff: Do it. If nothing else I ever suggest. 

Falstaff rises and exits. Y/n brings the cup of coffee as Hal sits up in bed, Y/n sits next to him and brings the cup to his lips. 

Hal: get dressed we are going to see that King 

Hal and Y/n are at the palace gates. Without exchange with the guards, they are granted entry. All watch them with cold interest if not disdain. They walk the hall under escort. As Hal approaches the antechamber he crosses paths with Grey and Cambridge on their way into the great hall. Grey eyes him with contempt. Cambridge looks at him cautiously, searching. 

King Henry is in his chair, visibly weak, presiding over a sitting of parliament. The full court plus  The Archbishop of Canterbury and clerical attendants are there. Thomas Of Lancaster, the King’s 18-year-old son, Hal’s younger brother, is there too. The Archbishop is addressing the king. He’s arrogant but nervous, he speaks with a lisp.

Servant: Henry, Prince of Wales. And His wife Y/n Princess of Wales. 

Henry IV: My son. Come to me. 

The Archbishop appears put out. He regards Hal with derision and Y/n with disgust. Hal crosses the room with his arm around Y/n holding her like she was life. They bow before Hal’s father, taking in his frailty. The King takes in his son’s disheveledness. 

Henry IV: Come closer. They take a step closer. 

Henry IV: I feel my life is nearing its natural end and yet still even I must appear of ruder health than you. 

Hal doesn’t respond. He continues looking his father in the eye. While Y/n looks to the ground filled with uneasy 

Henry IV: The time has come for me to consider the issue of my succession. You will not be king.

Hal remains fixed. A barely concealed smirk on the face of Grey.  

Henry IV: While you are my eldest son, for reasons that must be evident to you, that are on display for all here to see and smell, and due to your commoner wife, you will not inherit this crown. 

Hal: Nor have I sought it. 

Henry IV: That privilege and responsibility will instead fall to your brother Thomas. 

Thomas straightens, postures regally. It doesn’t suit him. 

Henry IV: As you may be aware - to whatever degree you are aware of the world outside your own - I will assume you are aware that the kingdom is at war with itself. Matters as grave as these require leadership committed to their resolution and you - of this I am sure - can not provide that commitment. Thomas, however, can. He is soft, but he is eager and he will lead my army against the newly treasonous Percy Hotspur. 

Hal looks at Thomas who has trouble meeting Hal’s eyes. 

Henty IV: I will assume this news comes to you as neither a surprise nor disappointment. I do however see it as my duty as King and as a father to say it to you directly. 

Hal walks to Thomas dragging along Y/n. 

Thomas raises his head and holds Hal’s eyes. 

Hal: How do you feel, brother? 

Thomas: Strong. 

Hal: When do you fight? 

Thomas: I set off tomorrow. We fight by week’s end. 

Hal: You need not fight. These feuds need not be yours. 

Hal takes Thomas’s face in his hand. Thomas leans his head away and tries to stare at Hal. He is young and afraid. 

Henry IV: I have said what you were summonsed to hear. Leave us now. 

Hal turns to his father, one last cold look, then leaves. Take his wife along with him.

[cowboybeepboop]

Late Night

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut, gentle and romantic

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: Your friendly neighbor Clark Kent comes to your door one evening, allowing for the two of you to finally grow your relationship.

Warnings: This is not proofread what so ever, gentle/sort of shy Clark, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, p in v sex. 

a/n: Idk rn but I genuinely can't wait for David Corenswet to be Superman (Henry Cavill is so hot tho...). I’m already imagining how perfect he's gonna be as Clark Kent. As always, send me any requests you have and I hope you enjoy!

For months now, you had been quietly pining for the man who lived across the hall from me in our unassuming apartment building. His name was Clark Kent, and there was something about him that was utterly endearing. It wasn't just his chiseled jawline or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, but the kindness he exuded, the way he always had a helping hand ready for anyone in need. 

You had become something like friends, sharing the occasional awkward small talk as we passed by with our shopping bags or recyclables. You had seen him in various stages of undress, coming back from his midnight runs, his superhero-like physique hidden under loose-fitting t-shirts and sweatpants. 

Something that had fueled your evening pleasure sessions, everytime your eyes fell closed you could remember the image of his hardened abs, his huge and muscular arms. 

On a warm summer evening, there was a knock at your door. It was Clark, the guy from across the hall. He stood there sheepishly, his hand running through his black hair. 

He wore a white shirt that was unbuttoned and messy. He held a bottle of wine in one hand. "Hey", he said. "I hope I'm not disturbing you. I was wondering if I could get a favor?"

“Sure what’s up?” you give him a small smile, your eyes fall on his exposed chest before quickly flicking back to his face. His heart rate increased as he realized that you could see through the thin fabric of his shirt the toned muscles of his chest covered in a light layer of hair.

He cleared his throat, composing himself, holding up the bottle of wine. "I, umm, I was wondering if I could borrow your corkscrew. I lost mine."

“Yeah, of course. Come on in.” you move to the side, allowing him to come in. Your mind clouding with desire as he towers over you, his cologne filling your senses. 

He steps into your apartment, the tight space meaning his body brushes against yours slightly as he passes. The contact between you both is brief, but it's enough to send a shiver down his spine as he enters.

Your cheeks flush slightly as you realize your own appearance, wearing just a button down top that is unbuttoned enough for him to see your cleavage and your underwear. You awkwardly lead him to the kitchen, arm subconsciously moving to cover your breasts as you turn around, handing him the corkscrew. 

"Uh, thanks." He says as he takes the corkscrew from you. Even with your arm draped over yourself, he can't help but notice the glimpse of exposed skin, his eyes lingering before he catches himself and averts his gaze, forcing himself to stay focused on the task at hand.

He starts to open up the bottle, the action allowing him to look away from your figure for a moment and compose himself, his hands shaking slightly as he tries to concentrate. 

Your hand reaches out, fingers brushing over his. “Oh yeah this thing is weird, you kinda have to do it a particular way.” you murmur, taking the bottle from him as you fumble with the screw. 

He bites his lip as your fingers brush over his, his stomach swirling at the touch of your hand. He watches as you take the bottle from him, his eyes fixated on your every movement as you try to open the bottle.

"Thanks," he mutters, his voice low and a bit shaky. His eyes wander down, his gaze drawn to the way your top fits, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. 

“Mhm,” you reply as you pull the cork out, a small splash of wine staining your collar. You bite down on your lip while setting the bottle down, fingers rubbing the fabric. His eyes widen slightly as he watches the droplet of wine slide down your collar, the stains on the fabric making it even more translucent. 

Clark swallows hard, his mind wandering to inappropriate and ungentlemanly thoughts. He clears his throat, trying to look away, but he can't help but notice the way your fingers are now rubbing at the fabric, the motion only drawing his attention further to your chest.

You glance over him, hand falling from your shirt as you give him a soft grin, noticing the way his gaze lingers. 

His gaze flicks up to meet yours, his cheeks flushed. He realizes he's been caught staring, his eyes having been fixated on the way your hand moves over the fabric of your shirt, the motion stirring something deep within him.

"I, umm..." he stutters, his words failing him as he feels his throat dry up. He swallows slowly, forcing himself to focus on something else. "Thanks, for helping me open the bottle," he manages to say.  He shifts on his feet, trying to discreetly adjust himself as he feels his jeans becoming a bit tighter.

“Of course, do you want to share the bottle? Or do you have someone waiting for you?” you move slightly closer to him. 

His heart quickens as you come closer, his mouth going dry as your proximity makes it all that much more difficult to concentrate. He glances down at the bottle sitting on the counter, his mind racing with desire and indecision.

"No," he says, his voice low and a bit huskier than usual. "There's no one waiting for me." He looks back up at you, his eyes locking with yours, his gaze intense and filled with a mixture of nervousness and something more forbidden. "I'd like to share the bottle with you."

“Perfect.” You smile, stepping closer as you reach for the cabinet behind him, your chest pressing into his ever so slightly. You open the door, reaching for two glasses ​​his breath hitches as he feels your body press against him, the sensation sending a jolt of heat through him. 

Your chest rubs against his, and he can feel the weight and softness of you against his body. The proximity is driving him mad, his mind clouded by primal desires he's trying to keep in check.

He bites his lip, his knuckles turning white as he grips the edge of the counter, trying to maintain his composure. His eyes flutter shut for a moment before he opens them again, his gaze fixed on your every move.

You step back, with the glasses in hand. “We could watch a movie?” you prompt as you pour some wine into the cups, silently enjoying the way he reacted to your touch. 

He nods, his mind still racing as he tries to calm his racing thoughts and the growing hardness in his pants. "Yeah, a movie sounds good," he mutters, his voice coming out a bit more hoarse than he'd liked.

As you pour the wine, his eyes follow your every move, the way your fingers grip the bottle, the way the liquid flows into the glasses. It's all too tantalizing for him. "What do you feel like watching?" He asks, trying to keep his voice level and casual.

“How about you choose?” you hand him a glass, taking yours in hand along with the bottle as you walk into the living room. Taking a seat down on the couch you sip on the wine, your eyes follow his every move, drinking in his muscular form. 

He tries to stay composed, forcing himself to look away and focus on the task at hand. Clark walks over to the DVD collection and scans the titles, his mind unfocused and his thoughts still lingering on you. After a moment of browsing, he picks a movie at random, inserting it into the player.

"All set." He says, returning to the couch and taking a seat beside you. You pull at the hem of your shirt, trying to prevent it from riding up too much while taking another sip of your drink. 

“Great.” you smile, sucking your lip between your teeth as you admire his side profile. He can't help but notice the way you fidget with your shirt, the action drawing his mind to places he shouldn't be going at the moment. 

He struggles to keep his eyes focused on the screen, his gaze keeping wandering over to you, admiring your features and the way the fabric clings to your body. Clark takes a long sip from his glass, the alcohol doing little to calm his racing thoughts and desires. He shifts in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust himself as his jeans grow even tighter.

“Is everything alright?” you notice his movements and set your cup on the coffee table, scooting slightly closer to him. His eyes widen slightly as you move closer, the proximity sending a fresh wave of desire through him. He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry.

"Yeah," he responds, his voice a little hoarse. "Everything's fine, just...adjusting." He glances over at you, his gaze lingering on your figure, his eyes tracing over the curves where your shirt clings to you, the way your position inadvertently exposes more skin.

“Clark?” your knee brushes against his thigh as you scoot closer. He stiffens as your knee brushes against him, the casual touch sending a jolt through him. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his hands gripping the edge of the couch as he tries to maintain his composure.

When he hears his name, the way you say it, so soft and gentle, almost a whisper, it sends a shiver down his spine. He looks over at you, his eyes locking with yours, his gaze intense and filled with desire. "Yeah?" He manages to respond, his voice a bit shaky.

“Are you.. seeing anyone?” you chew on your cheek as you search his eyes. At your question, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty crosses his face. He holds your gaze, his eyes searching yours for any hint of insincerity.

"No," he says finally, his voice steady and sincere. "I'm not seeing anyone." He swallows, his nerves getting the better of him as he wonders where this conversation is going. He can't help but feel a flicker of hope and anxiety at the same time.

Your eyes light up as you press a hand to his thigh, “Then… well I hope i’m not misreading the situation,” you murmur, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. It's unexpected, but oh so welcome. 

His eyes widen for a brief moment, before closing as he melts into the kiss. Every cell in his body seems to come alive, the taste of your lips on his sending him into a dizzying spiral of emotions.

His hand comes up to cup your jaw, his touch gentle as he leans into the kiss, deepening it as he loses himself in the moment. His tongue brushes over your bottom lip as he presses his chest against yours, pushing your back into the plush fabric of your couch. 

Your bodies meld together, your back sinking into the cushion as he bears down on you. His tongue teases your lip, requesting entry which you give him without hesitation.

His heart races as he feels the soft give of your body against his chest, the heat and pressure of your bodies mingling together.

His hand runs over your side, his touch gentle but firm as it moves over the curves of your body, his hand sneaking under the fabric of your shirt, needing to feel your skin against his. You lean back, gasping for air as his fingers explore your body. 

He takes your gasp as an opportunity to trail his lips along your jaw, his breath hot against your skin as he nips and kisses his way down your neck.

His hand moves under your shirt, slowly, his fingertips dancing across your bare skin, mapping out each contour and dip of your body. He groans softly against your throat as he feels your warm, supple flesh under his fingers. You feel so good against him, it's almost overwhelming.

“Clark..” you gasp his name as he unbuttons your shirt swiftly. He loves the way you say his name, the sound of it coming from your lips making his own name sound like a prayer.

He unfastens the buttons of your shirt, revealing more and more of your body to his hungry eyes. He peels back the fabric, his hands roaming over your now-exposed skin, his fingers tracing over your stomach and up to your chest.

He presses his mouth to your collarbone, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, tasting your scent, committing it to memory. “Clark..” you moan his name again, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he kisses down your chest, hands landing on your breasts. 

His name slips from your lips again, the sound like a sweet melody in his ears. He can feel the pressure of your fingers on his shoulders, the touch driving his desire even higher.

His mouth travels down your chest, his kisses feather light and seductive as he moves over your breasts. His hands follow his mouth, palms cupping your breasts as he starts to massage the soft flesh.

He moans against your skin, his touch almost reverent. His body thrums with an aching need, the desire to be closer to you nearly overwhelming as he captures your lips in another hungry kiss. He cups your breasts in his hands, his fingers kneading the supple flesh as they press into your skin. His touch is soft but firm, his hands large enough to cover them completely

Clark pulls back slightly, breaking the kiss but keeping his eyes locked with yours. His breath is ragged, his chest heaving with anticipation. He can feel your heart racing beneath his palms as he gently caresses your breasts. "Are you sure about this?" He whispers, his voice thick with desire. "I don't want to rush you." His eyes search yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

You smile up at him, placing a soft hand on his cheek. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life," you reply, your voice barely above a murmur. The sincerity in your tone sends a thrill through him, confirming that this is what you both want.

He nods, his expression serious as he leans back down to kiss you again. This time, the kiss is slower, more deliberate. He savors the taste of you, the feel of your body pressed against his. His hand slides up to the back of your neck, cradling it as he deepens the kiss, exploring every inch of your mouth with his tongue.

As the kiss lingers, he slowly starts to unbutton the rest of your shirt, taking his time to reveal each new inch of your skin. His eyes never leave yours, watching for any signs of discomfort or hesitation. You melt into him, your own hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as the fabric of your shirt falls away.

The moment your skin is fully exposed, the air in the room seems to crackle with tension. He leans down to press a line of soft, wet kisses along your collarbone, feeling your body shiver beneath his touch. He takes a moment to just look at you, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and desire. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

Your cheeks flush with pleasure as he says the words, his eyes devouring your exposed flesh. He takes his time, kissing and caressing every inch of your body, his hands moving in a slow, tantalizing dance that leaves you trembling with need. Each touch is a promise of what's to come, each kiss a declaration of his desire for you.

The room is filled with the sound of your mingled breaths and the soft whispers of your names on each other's lips. The anticipation is almost unbearable, but you both know that the slow burn of this moment is only making the fire between you grow hotter.

Clark finally takes one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling gently as he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger. You arch your back, gasping at the sensation, your hands tightening in his hair. He teases and worships each peak, his tongue swirling and flicking, drawing out your moans of pleasure.

As you lay there, the warmth of his mouth on your skin, the softness of the couch beneath you, and the gentle pressure of his body above, you can't help but feel that this is exactly where you're meant to be. With each tender kiss and caress, he's claiming you, and you're willingly giving yourself to him.

The movie on the TV becomes background noise as the only thing that matters is the connection growing stronger between you both. His kisses trail down your stomach, his hands skimming over your hips to the waistband of your underwear.

He kisses the skin just above the waistband, the heat of his breath making you squirm. "I want to make this perfect for you," he murmurs, his eyes looking up at you for approval. You nod, unable to form words as your breath catches in your throat.

He takes his time, pulling down your underwear in one smooth motion, exposing your most intimate parts to his gaze. His eyes darken with desire as he looks at you, but he keeps his touches feather-light, his mouth hovering just above your skin without making contact.

Clark takes a deep breath, savoring the moment as he gazes down at your exposed body. He gently kisses the soft skin of your inner thighs, moving closer to the apex of your legs. His eyes are filled with a fiery hunger that makes your heart race even faster. He presses a soft kiss to your mound, feeling you tense up at the contact. 

Then, with a gentle caress, he parts your legs wider, his gaze never leaving yours. You can see the desire in his eyes, and it only fuels the fire burning within you. With a soft sigh, he lowers his mouth to you, his tongue tracing the seam of your folds with the lightest touch. You moan, your body trembling as he starts to explore you, taking his time to learn every curve and sensitive spot. 

Each touch is a declaration of his intention to worship you, to take things slow and savor every second of this shared intimacy. His fingers join his mouth, gently teasing and exploring, bringing you closer to the edge with every stroke. The room is filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths and soft whimpers, the only soundtrack to this passionate symphony of desire.

Clark continues his gentle exploration, his tongue circling your clit with a patience that borders on agonizing. He's not in a hurry; he wants to savor every moment of this, to make sure you feel loved and desired. His fingers slide into your wetness, curling gently as he begins to stroke you internally, matching the rhythm of his tongue. 

You can't help but whimper, your eyes squeezed shut as the sensations build within you. He's so attentive, so in tune with your body's responses that you feel like you're floating on a cloud of pure pleasure. Each kiss, each caress is a testament to the connection growing between you, and you know that this is just the beginning of a night that will change everything.

Clark's eyes never leave yours as he shifts his position, aligning his body with yours. His hand moves to guide himself, and with a gentle nod from you, he begins to press into you. His movements are slow and deliberate, his expression one of intense concentration as he tries to read your every reaction. You can feel the tip of him pushing against your entrance, the anticipation of what's to come making you squirm.

As he enters you, he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his voice a soothing balm to the building passion. He's so big, so thick, but he's so gentle that it's almost a surprise when he's fully sheathed inside you. You gasp, your eyes flying open, and he stills, giving you a moment to adjust to the sensation of being filled by him.

He waits, his eyes searching yours for any sign of pain or discomfort. When he sees none, he starts to move, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm that makes your toes curl. Each thrust is met with a soft moan from your lips, his name slipping from your mouth like a prayer as he fills you completely.

The feeling of him inside you is unlike anything you've ever experienced. It's as if your bodies are made for this, as if every inch of him is meant to be connected to every inch of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your hands sliding down to grip his firm ass as he moves within you.

The room seems to spin around you, the only constant is the feeling of him, the sound of your hearts beating in sync. He kisses you again, his movements becoming more urgent as the passion takes over. You can feel him thickening, growing even more inside you, and you know that he's getting closer to the edge.

You whisper for him to go faster, to give you more, and he responds eagerly, his strokes deepening and quickening. Your body responds in kind, your hips rising to meet his, the friction between you building until it's almost unbearable. You're both so close, the tension coiled tight in your stomachs, ready to snap.

And then, with one final, deep thrust, it does. You cry out, your body arching off the couch as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He follows shortly after, his own release shaking his body as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

For a moment, you just lay there, your bodies entwined, your hearts racing. Then, with a soft sigh, he pulls back, his eyes searching yours for any signs of regret. But all he sees is pure satisfaction, a mirror to what's reflected in his own gaze. He leans down to kiss you gently, a soft promise of more to come.

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

AS FAST AS YOU CAN

KINKTOBER DAY 24 - OUTDOOR SEX WITH TOMMY SHELBY

Pairing.| Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary.| Your husband likes to play games to keep your marriage exciting. When you oppose against his wants, he thinks a game of predator and prey can soothe your disputes.

Warnings.| Noncon, dubcon, predator and prey, outdoor sex, p in v, rough sex, breeding kink, postnatal depression, implied lactating kink, tommy's a dick lol.

Word count.| 2.7k

Notes.| This may have been my favourite to write, Tommy just screams predator and prey.

It was just another fun game for the happy couple. A way to keep the spark of adrenaline, excitement and desire for each other. To your husband, this was considered intimacy. The casual sex could get repetitive for him, don’t get Tommy wrong, he loved your body, worshiped it at every opportunity he got. But he wanted to feel alive with you, take every opportunity possible to explore new pleasures with you. To keep the sparkle of rigorousness in your marriage. 

Tommy Shelby was a sadist, your hand was forced into marriage and then you were sentenced with baring his children. You loved your two sons, Alastair and Henry, but feared them living cursed lives. You had heard so many malediction tales of the Shelby name. They were still babies, Alstair only turning one a month ago. Many nights you considered packing your bags and running away with your sons, but feared your husband’s wrath if you ever got caught. 

Only eight weeks postnatal, Tommy was pushing you for another, but you were far too resistant this time. The way your expression soured and lips wobbled as you began to express how you needed to wait, your body needed to properly heal from your first pregnancy. Your body was weak, you were ruined by the issues of bearing children. You needed a break after having one child after the other. To what he was quite aggressive over your resistance, he found himself rather content at the situation, an idea sprouting in his mind. 

On this cold, misty day at Arrow House, Tommy thought it was the perfect environment for another intimate activity between you both. It was hunting season, and what better than a game of predator and prey. But in reality, he wanted to torment you in ways you didn’t know were possible. Because no matter the terms and conditions of the game, it was always designed for him to win. 

“It’s a simple game darling, I desire another child, you do not” Tommy spoke confidently as you stood in front of the green field. 

You rubbed your shoulders in the cold gentle wind. It was foggy, the forest almost hidden in the distance. With a congested sniff of your nose, you looked up to your husband who was dressed appropriately for a hunting session, the rifle included. 

“If you can reach the main road through the woods before I catch you, I won’t impregnate you until you’re ready, I promise” Tommy explained, closing the distance between you with a wicked grin on his lips. 

“Then what’s the gun for!” you exclaimed, your body trembling as you watched his hands tighten around the weapon. 

“It’s just a prop my love! It’s hunting season! I’m just getting into the spirit, a predator eager to catch his prey” Tommy snickered, nose running up your neck as he breathed in your scent. 

“Please Tommy! I’m tired…” you begged pathetically, your body slouching as you held onto your husband in hopes of a change of heart. 

With his grin, you knew your words meant nothing. His free hand slipped around your waist, right down to squeeze your ass. You whined, tightening your grip on him as you tried to force your tears back in. 

“Want me to fill you with my seed now then?” Tommy whispered darkly into your ear. 

The thought of being pregnant again weighed you down.  No, you couldn’t be a slave to the torture of pregnancy. The agony and melancholy it had rained over your body was too much to bear again. The sleepless nights had to end. Tommy thought it was best for the maids to stay out of the process. He only wanted you both to be their providers. He did help out here and there, but he often would pass on the duties to you and hold you from behind as you tried to calm your sons. That’s when he was even home, Tommy was business obsessed. Sometimes you’d get hopeful that he was never going to be coming home. Prayed for the news that he got caught in the crossfires, but you always heard the engine of his car roar when you were almost convinced. 

“Okay, okay” you complied, defeated. 

“Good! If you win I’ll do whatever you want tonight, even if that’s sitting in the corner of the room like a naughty boy” Tommy smirked, patting your behind harshly. 

He explained how you’d have a five minute head start and how it was approximately a mile and a half run. Your hope began to shatter at those stats, you had hardly walked that distance straight since your first pregnancy. When was the last time you had even ran?

“A kiss for good luck” Tommy murmured before passionately kissing you. 

As he counted down the seconds, you whimpered heavily, eyes darting around as you felt like a deer caught in headlights. You bolted as fast as you could, quickly heaving, your heart pounding against your ribs as you didn’t notice how tight your throat was closing in. It was cruel, you weren’t dressed appropriately for this, wearing a maroon dress that restricted the movements of your legs and tight shoes that were easily rubbing against your skin. All for his own advantage, as if your physical capabilities weren't already enough. 

It’ll forever be unknown if Tommy stood true to his word, you were too afraid to look back. The adrenaline removed the timer in your head as you quickly disappeared in between the trees. Tommy smirked to himself as he held his rifle to his chest and ran after you. 

Swaying side to side, your body struggled to remain composed. Your core temperature made the forest feel like a furnace. When you fell against the tree, you pant out to attempt to catch your breath. You dared to look back, the bushes and trees remained still as before. The mist clouded the distance, you were still free from him. But his voice tormented you, calling out his name, somehow echoing through every area of the taunting woods.

You wouldn’t be able to outrun him, that much you knew. However, you could trick him, have him chase the finish line rather than yourself. For he never set a mark on the road. You slipped into the nearest ditch of dirt, curling your body up against the curving wall of earth. When you heard his heavy footsteps snap at the twigs and crush the leaves, you clamped your hand over your heaving mouth. 

Tommy called out your name and you could already visualize the sinister smile on his lips. “My love, where do you hide?” Tommy teased, already knowing that you were near. 

His footsteps neared, you were sure he was standing right above you as you squeezed your eyes shut, paralyzed by fear. A ramble in the distance of an animal caught his attention. Tommy flared his nostrils and quickly his footsteps faded. When the woods were filled with silence again, you crawled out of the ditch and continued your journey. 

You were cautious, your eyes darting around from every direction as you often found yourself hunching close to the ground. Tears watered the soil as you struggled to keep your emotions under control. The blisters on your feet had already formed. Your body ached almost as badly as it did during childbirth, you needed to rest. Minutes quickly passed, you thought you were lost. But then, you could see the main road behind the trees. Just over fifty meters away from you. 

“My love! There you are!” Tommy’s voice boomed as he appeared out of thin air in the distance. There was this similar crazed look on his face, which never ended up in your favor as he held onto the rifle firmly. 

You shrieked and bolted for your life, not necessarily desiring the finish line, but only to get as far away as him as possible. Tommy guffawed your name as his brisk steps grew onto your tail. Fearfully, you cried out, your sounds of distress echoed throughout the forest.  

When Tommy lunged for your loose hair, he miscalculated the distance and missed, tripping over a root and crashing onto the dirt ground in the process. You dared to look back, but shamelessly found yourself grinning at his unfortunate tumble. He snarled out the dirt from his mouth, his head shot up as he saw you closing in on the finish line.

You smiled, you were going to win, finally. 

The gunshot made you fall to the ground a mere few meters away from the road. Your hands patted over your body, your blood pumping a mixture of adrenaline and shock. There were no wounds on your body and you dared to look back. 

Striding towards you like a beast, Tommy had a frightening look locked on underneath the specs of dirt. His knuckles were turning white around his rifle as he looked like he was ready to eat you alive. Thoughtlessly, you were scooting back over the dirt ground, heading straight towards the road. 

“Get over here, right now!” Tommy roared, a vein popping out of his forehead. 

“Tommy?” You whimpered, head darting back and forward from the road.

The road was only a meter away from you. Swiftly, Tommy aimed his rifle at you and you froze still. You gulped down the lump in your throat, lip wobbling.  

“Next shot goes through your leg my love” he warned with a grin. 

You whimpered his name once more as he towered over you. The rifle lowered to his side as he tilted his head towards you. As the rifle fell to the ground, Tommy pounced on top of you, pushing you flat onto your back. His nose inhaled your scent as he pressed his lips to your neck, you were frozen underneath him. 

“Mhmmm, I win” Tommy chuckled, his kisses running up to your face. 

Whining out, you shook your head viciously as you squirmed underneath him. “No! No! I was going to win!” You argued, your voice full of hurt.

“Should have walked the distance then!” Tommy cackled, his hands roughly roaming over your dress. 

“You threatened to shoot me! You said it was a prop!” You hissed. 

“I would never do such a thing! Not my fault you fell for it” he said smugly with a roll of the shoulders, his brute hands massaging your swollen breasts. 

A wave of pure anger crashed over you. Before you could even process it, you punched him in the jaw. His hand snapped to the side and he remained still. The redness on his pale skin quickly grew. Within a blink of the eye, Tommy maneuvered you onto your stomach, your acts of resistance always felt like a mouse battling a cat. You yelped out in pain as he twisted your arms behind your back. 

“Please Tommy! I don’t know what I was thinking!” You shrieked, blabbering at the feeling of his heavy bulge poking against your ass. 

“That’s exactly right… You shouldn’t be thinking at all…” Tommy whispered into your ear as he slowly freed his throbbing cock. 

“No-no, please” you squeaked out, close to hyperventilation.  

But it was pointless, Tommy had won yet again and was too eager not to gloat his win. For if a wolf were to catch a deer, would he take it home before devouring it? Your dress was scrunched up and you gasped as the cold air teased your skin. With a swift movement, he shoved his thick member into your entrance. You grumbled out in pain, Tommy shoved your face into the dirt as he pounded himself inside of you. 

“Your mind will go perfectly blank again when you’ve been bred, I miss the way you’d stare blankly out the window” Tommy sighed in satisfaction as your body went limp below him. 

“Tommy please! Another month! Just give me another month!” You cried out, your body trembled on the ground. 

“Darling, it’s easier if we just get it out of the way now…” Tommy moaned quietly as his arm slipped down to your clit.

The way your walls would squeeze his length made you feel sick in times like these. It fueled his beliefs that you enjoyed his sick and twisted games of his. He held up your hips, balls slapped against your sensitive flesh, animalistic grunts left his lips. You mewled out his name. 

“Quiet my little wife, quiet” Tommy ordered, his eyes rolling back. “You stress yourself out too much, let me do everything, let me take care of you” he explained as he leant down to kiss your heated cheek. 

Tommy coached you to keep on squeezing him, just how he liked it as he rutted into you. In return, he hit your sweet spot over and over again. Quickly, your eyes rolled back as you whimpered out in pleasure, back arched and cunt squeezing as tightly as possible. Tommy groaned out, his movement’s suddenly stilling as he shot his seed deep inside of you. Tommy gleefully smiled out, it had felt like an eternity since he came inside of you. 

As you panted out, ears blocked and sight still blurry, you realized Tommy was talking to you. 

“A little baby girl, doesn’t that sound nice?” Tommy asked softly, his cock still buried deep inside of you. 

“A girl” you smiled weakly, mind still dazed from your post orgasm state. 

“Yeah… A girl, she’d be as beautiful as you, eh?” he complimented, his hand rubbed over your lower back as he slipped his size out of your dripping hole. 

“No” you mumbled. 

“No?” 

“I’m not beau-” 

Your body is flipped back over. Tommy glared down at you as he read your pained expression behind the dirt. Quietly, he tutted at you as he shook his head. 

“Fuck, I’m really going to have to fuck these stupid thoughts out of your head, ain’t I?” Tommy cooed as he found his cock twitching in the cold air. 

“Look at me Tommy” you whimpered, eyes swelling up as you looked down at your body. Disgust washed over you, you felt sticky, as if you were covered in grease. 

“I am my love, you’re emotional over nothing, just calm down and feel me okay? My poor wife, you have that sadness don’t you?” Tommy soothed you in a condescending yet comforting tone. You murmured out his name, your arms snaking around his back to pull him closer to you. Gradually, Tommy slipped himself back into your sore walls, you mumbled out but showed no resistance. “Shush… I’ll fix you, just squeeze my cock for now, that’s all you have to think about” Tommy smiled softly, his pace picking up. 

“Tommy, I-I” you moaned, eyes fluttered and lips spread open. 

“Show me how badly you want to be bred”  Tommy grunted out, his nostrils flared and hips pistoning in and out of you. Naturally, your walls firmly tightened around his member. Tommy’s body craved yours so badly, it was torture having to wait for you to heal. Many times he wanted to devour you completely. Take your mouth or backside to relive his desire, but he wasn’t cruel like you claimed him to be. “Oh fuck, fuck… Missed your warmth so fucking bad…” Tommy almost whined out as he felt his balls begin to tighten. “Yeah, that’s it…” Tommy moaned, his eyes rolled back as he came inside of you for a second time. 

He collapsed on top of you, his face buried into the crook of your name as he murmured your name. Tommy held you tightly as you silently wept, the realization crashing down on you intensely. Eventually, Tommy slid out his softening dick and slipped himself back into his pants. 

“Tommy it’s cold” you sniffled as he stood up and brushed off his face and clothing. 

Tommy sighed as he helped you up, he brushed the dirt off of yourself and patted your cheek softly. As you rubbed your arms, your shoulders curled in, Tommy slipped off his coat and placed it over your shoulders. 

“There you go my little wife” Tommy smiled and gave you a peck on the lips as he tugged the coat straight. “Come on, the boys must be hungry, I sure am” Tommy grinned, his hands tracing over the outline of your breasts as he licked his lips.

[girasollake]

Hi! Can I request a smut imagine with prompt 48 and trope 8 with Theodore Nott.

She’s a slytherin too and a badass bitch who everybody wants to be or date

Thank youuu!

✧ theodore nott x fem!reader x jealousy x "you. are. mine."✧

(this request is a part of my writing event, here is the link to the masterlist of the fics i'll be publishing from said event:) )

this took longer than i expected, thank you for your request anon! x

told u guys i’d post smth… surprise!!!!

warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, p in v sex, some swear words, some slight cedric x reader, theo being bitchy ig, fingering, general sex stuff, orgasm denial, ummmmmm yeah i think that’s it

i’ll reread it later to fix mistakes cuz rn it’s 2 am where i live and i’m going to bed bye

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Your relationship with Theo was complicated. At least in your mind that was the most suitable word for this dynamic, you could never find anything else that would quite describe it. You were friends, that’s for sure, this was the only thing you were certain of. Some days you had found yourself tangled in his bedsheets, his soft fingers caressing your back as you lingered in his scent. But, there were also days when you didn’t speak to him at all, strolling through the halls and seeing him tug a piece of hair behind the ear of some Ravenclaw girl while simultaneously giving her his infamous smile. Even though you also flirted and went on dates with others, something inside your guts sunk down each time you saw him with a girl who was not you. And you could barely handle it. Every time you promised yourself you’ll never sleep with him again or give him your attention, you’d always end up doing the opposite. There was something about him that lured you in, it was toxic, but so divine. So, whenever his lips connected to yours in a hungry kiss, you’d forget about all of the other women he probably does this with. It was just you and him and your only thought during these moments was to stay with him like that forever.

‚-it’s not like it’s that important.’

‚Huh?’ You lifted your head and met Pansy’s annoyed face. ‚Sorry, what were you saying?’

¨What is going on with you lately?´She shook her head and sighed. ´I asked if you have a date for the ball.’ She then added.

‘Oh, well, not really.’ You shrugged.

‘Seriously? Is this about Theo again? I’ve told you multiple times that there is a fucking queue of guys just waiting for you and all you do is always go back to him.’ She huffed. ‘What about Mason? Louise? Henry? They were all head over heels for you, I don’t believe they didn’t ask you at least once.’

‘They did. I just said no.’ You mumbled and avoided her angry gaze.

SShe groaned and took a sip of her butterbeer. ‘I was not going to tell you this, but I see there is no other option.’ Pansy took a deep breath. ‘I heard the boys talking about the ball and Nott wants to take Arisa.’

You swallowed a big gulp in your throat and looked down into your drink. You expected that something like this would happen, you just didn’t think you wouldn’t be prepared to hear it.

‘’M sorry.’ She looked at your numb expression with caring eyes.

‘It’s okay Pans.’ You gave her a soft smile. ‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time to move on.’

Even though you tried to not think about him for the next few days, it was unusually hard. He was on your mind non stop, like a song playing on repeat. On top of that, everyone was talking about the upcoming event. While walking through the halls you overheard people gossiping about the pairs, discussing what they are gonna wear and you were also a witness to roughly 7 performances of the boys creatively asking their crushes to go with them.

You walked into the courtyard and took a seat on the nearest free bench. You pulled out your sketchbook in hopes to finally draw something. Truth is, you didn’t remember the last time you practiced your beloved activity, not that you didn’t have time, you just didn’t have any ideas. This time wasn’t different, you looked around and then your gaze rested on the empty page before you. You made a soft line with your pencil and stopped, it was like your hand didn’t want to listen to your mind. You groaned and closed the sketchbook to put it in your bag again. While doing this, you felt a presence in front of you. Looking up, you saw Cedric Diggory, a charming smile plastered on his face.

‘Hi, do you have a moment?’ He asked and you stood up to face him.

‘Of course.’ You smiled.

‘I have a question.’

‘If you want my help with something, then no. I can barely finish my own essays and-‘

‘No, that’s..’ He chuckled. ‘I was wondering if you’d want to go to the ball with me?’

‘Oh..’ You bit your lip softly from the inside. ‘I.. I’ll think about it. Is that okay with you?’

‘Surely, just don’t take too long, darling.’ He sent you a wink and walked out of the courtyard.

Later that night you were studying in your dorm, soft music was playing in your headphones as you scribbled some sigils for one of the classes. Your back was turned to the door, so you didn’t hear that someone came in. It was the feeling of being observed that made you move your head to inspect the room and there he was. Theodore Nott stood next to your door, his arms were crossed and you couldn’t quite read his expression. You grabbed your headphones and took them off.

‘Knocking exists.’ You told him.

‘Not for me.’ He replied sternly.

‘What are you doing here, Theodore?’ You fixed your position on the bed so that you were fully facing him. ‘Don’t you have any other hoes to tend to?’

‘Are you going to the ball with Diggory?’ He avoided your question.

‘Why do you care?’ You stood up.

‘Answer me.’ He took a step closer to you.

‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.’

‘For fucks sake, stop being a brat and answer the question.’ He said through gritted teeth.

‘It’s none of your business.’ You replied while stepping closer to him and poking your finger into his chest.

His scent filled up your nose and you felt this forbidden feeling again. Your body was lustful, for him, but you couldn’t let him win again.

He chuckled, ‘See, that’s where you’re wrong.’

You scoffed, ‘Fine. Yes.’ You spat at him. ‘I’m going with Cedric. Is that what you wanted to hear?’

His eyes darkened at the confession, which wasn’t even true. You just wanted to get on his nerves and see what he would do. You didn’t even have time to react before he pinned you to the wall and hovered over you. Your breath hitched and you tried your best to avoid his eyes, because if you looked into them, you’d lose.

‘No, you’re not.’ He stated. ‘You are not going with anyone.’

‘Why? Why the fuck do you care so much?!’ Your eyes were glued to the ceiling.

He gripped your face with one of his hands and forced you to look at him. You closed your eyes.

‘You.’ He whispered and brought his lips closer to yours before breathily adding the rest. ‘Are. Mine.’

The sound of his voice was angelic and it sent a certain feeling down to your core. You tried your best to resist but your eyes fluttered open and met his. You lost.

He grabbed your face and connected your lips in a hungry kiss. You whimpered into his mouth and cursed yourself in your mind. Why was he so addictive? Why couldn’t you quit? He just felt too good to be true. Kissing you in all the right places, his fingers touching where you needed him most, every time you felt him inside of you, it felt like heaven.

He took a few steps back and tried to not break the kiss. He pushed you onto the mattress and with one of his hands he pushed all the books off the bed. He left wet kisses along your jawline and you moaned at the feeling. He discarded both of your shirts and attached his lips to your chest, leaving a couple love bites along the way.

‘I want you to say it.’ He mumbled into your ear.

‘Hm?’ You were brought out of your trance.

‘I want you to admit you’re mine.’

‘But am I?’ He stopped kissing your neck and gripped your throat.

‘Are you?’ He raised his brow and smirked challengingly, knowing you’d fold under him.

You stared deep into his eyes and swallowed harshly because of his grip, before replying, ‘I’m yours.’

‘Good girl.’ He let go of your neck and connected your lips once again.

Soon enough both of you were a sweaty mess, clothes laying somewhere on the wooden floor, soft sounds escaping your lips as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. His breath on your neck and occasional kisses made you feel dizzy, his fingers making you squirm from the pleasure, but it wasn’t enough.

‘I need to feel you.’ You breathed out and Theo didn’t waste a second.

He positioned himself on top of you and slowly entered your aching pussy. You threw your head back and he used that to immediately attach his lips to your neck once again.

‘’S okay, darling. You’re doing so good f’me.’ He whispered to help you relax.

His voice made you let go of the tension in your lower body, finally allowing him to move at a pace so perfect for both of you. He lifted you up and spinned both of you, so that you were on top of him. His thrusts became quicker and stronger, one of his hands was caressing your breasts, while the other rubbed your clit so deliciously. You cried out his name a few times when you were close, but he always stopped just then. He just smirked every time and continued his actions, it turned him on, watching you whine on top of him. He felt he was getting closer to his release, so he sped up again, and this time his hand stayed on your sweet spot. You reached your high with a loud moan and threw your head back, your hand grabbing Theo’s arm. He released inside of you with a loud groan and you used that to push away his hand which was still rubbing circles on your bud, too sensitive for more. You collapsed on top of him and gave him a peck on his collarbone. Theo reached for the blanket and covered the two of you.

‘I lied.’ You mumbled.

‘What?’

‘I’m not going with Cedric.’ You replied softly. ‘I told him I’d think about it and..’

‘Good.’ He interrupted. ‘You’re going with me then.’

‘Am I?’ You looked up at him playfully. ‘I thought you were taking Arisa.’

‘Who?’ He replied and you giggled. ‘She asked me to go. But I refused.’

‘Why? She’s a nice girl.’

‘Maybe. But she isn’t you.’ He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. ‘And I belong solely to you.’

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

@ girasollake 2024

[inknopewetrust]

𝔉𝔬𝔬𝔱𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔭𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔰

summary: in the blistering summer evening heat, you and felix play a little game. [felix x fem reader. WC: 2.6k]

warnings: smut. minors dni (18+ only). p in v, fingering (fem receiving), saltburn bathtub, slight voyeurism, dirty, dirty talk, some degrading language, not the dirtiest thing but still like… kinda hot?

Though the sun had set long before, the lingering scorch of the sun sat like a film on your skin. Its thin veil dry and aching to shrivel against the boiling water of the tub. You felt the sticky nature disappear under the trails of steam that painted the surface of the water.

A bead of sweat pebbled from your temple to cheek to chin to neck.

But you lit a cigarette anyway. And if you listened close enough, you could hear the crackle.

A blistering bud sizzles; the porcelain was drawing cool waves against the skin of your arms and for once, in the vast nothingness of the bathroom, the heat that rose from its surface made the ghosts vanish.

It made them disappear in house once home to Kings.

Now, as it boiled under the night sky, it was home to something other. It had bled itself into the walls and the ghosts wished to witness not the haggard scrounging of wealth that festered within.

But you imagined Henry the Eighth liked to stare as you bathed. They all did. Felix had told you that once a few summers ago.

How they all wanted to touch you in the ways that he did. How they wanted to whisper in your ear that they were better than him. No one truly was and it kept you crawling back with the poor souls who got sucked into a heated whirlpool of pity each and every summer.

Nevertheless, you envisioned Henry in the corner itching to touch.

They all trembled to flutter their hands onto your skin, onto your breasts, squeezing pieces of you dipped below the waterline.

If his ghost could smile, Henry’s ghastly teeth gleamed.

‘Fuck off, Henry,’ you saw the paunchy apparition lounging in the chair in the corner with a bead of sweat dribbling from his own temple.

Oh, envy, King Henry.

A bit of ash fell onto the tiles below.

“You’re making a mess of it.”

You tapped the cig on the side of the tub as another bit of ash wilted to the cold floor.

Felix hummed.

Stocky Henry vanished. If you gazed toward him, Felix’s eyes bore deep. Heavy and brooding, downcast at a peak of what existed beyond the bubbled suds.

Dinner had long passed. Everyone was supposed to be in bed.

He could feel you in inches. The soft skin of your back, the plush thighs that laid between his own. A hand of his traced over the skin of your collarbone gently as the ash continued to drift.

You were nearly on fire. In the swelter of the stone walls and the patterns of the paper before him, you glowed in a red sweat.

“You’re letting it die.”

“I was thinking,” you murmured.

“About what?”

“King Henry.”

“King Henry?” Felix’s voice peaked. His head leaned to rest on your shoulder, his smile leaving a trail as it grew. His nose drew a delicate line on your dampened skin.

You liked Felix in this way. So quiet and removed. But Saltburn always kept pace in the background.

“Yes, King Henry,” his hand glided along your own, gently taking hold of the cigarette and placing it between his lips.

The smoke of the puff rose high into the air beside you. It’s curls twisted like your insides aching for a touch too far but never too close.

“I like to imagine them sitting… staring at us now.”

“Now?” Felix questioned. “So erotic in an ugly tub. I can see him now,” he pointed to the corner of the room, “he just popped one. Can’t you see it? In his trousers there.”

You grinned. Your laugh filled his chest with a shuddering life. So fulfilled and free yet trapped in this same world as he.

And he was never far away. Here, in Saltburn, always waiting in the same shadows for the opportunity to strike while the others weren’t around. No sister or friends or parents or mewling poor fighting for his attention. They were retired for the evening; all snuggled in beds with curtains drawn and fantasy dancing in their heads.

“He isn’t the only one.”

You tipped your head to the side. The profile of your face meeting his forehead as he dipped his own downwards. The cigarette still burning from his fingertips. It was a mere bud now.

You could feel what waited for you on your lower back.

“I can feel that, you know?” You feigned an innocence he liked. Keen and blatant, but cunning with sin.

“Is it Henry that makes you feel that why?” You whispered, lips ghosting his chin.

Felix breathed in deeply. The same chest that shuddered with joy in anticipation.

Every summer.

The excitement would stir within his bones as the gates would open wide and beside his family would be the one steady thing he had everything to give.

“I hope,” Felix hushed, “for your own sake that’s not the fucking case.”

“So it’s me?”

Felix groaned as you pushed against him. The gentle pressure of your body arching into him without a touch, he begged to put his hands on you.

The cigarette fell to the floor in its end.

Felix took his hand and turned your head back to face him with a firm grip on your jaw. The water around you sloshed. It cleared the bubbles from your chest.

“I want to play a game,” he suggested in a dusty, breathless tone. “Want to play, darling?”

“Can I win?” You suggested. His hand loosened, letting the fingers dance along the column of your neck before beckoning up toward your mouth once more.

His index finger traced the outline of your lips. In a slow glide, Felix pulled your lower lip out slightly, gathering the wetness with his finger before inching it back to the space where your lips had parted.

You kissed his finger with your tongue as it found purchase in the suction of your mouth. The plushness of your tongue, the slight drag of your teeth as it emerged from between your lips.

“I don’t want to play if I can’t win, Felix,” you whispered.

His eyes now hooded with a thick want. He watched his finger redraw the lines of your lips again as you begged with doe eyes to win. A near child’s play of a woman’s ability to seduce.

“You can win,” Felix huffed as his other hand snaked itself from the edge of the tub to your torso under the water. “But I’ll need you to be quiet. We have guests and as much as I do love our dear, sweat guests, I can’t have them imagining the way I fuck you, can I?”

“No,” you relished in the way his hand returned to the base of your throat and squeezed with the slightest amusement. “I’ll be quiet.”

“Good,” Felix smiled at you. Your heart squeezed in the same way your cunt ached for his fingers to gather the strength to follow through.

“What do I win?”

“Whatever the fuck you want. You just have to be quiet.”

You smiled deviously that the thought.

“I can’t see how we’d be able to look a boy like Ollie in the eyes if he heard the sounds that come out of your mouth.”

His hand swooped past your center and to your leg, drawing one over his own which sat you straighter in his hold. You felt his cock jump at the pressure of you pushing on him. Felix flitted his finger tips from your knee to waist, switching hands to bring his wet palm to your breast while the other perched your opposite leg over his other.

The pebbled nipple was taut as he kneaded the skin in circles. He pressed down hard, pulling up on your nipple to elicit the sounds he wanted so badly to hear but knew you’d repress.

You were like him in many ways. He too wanted to win a game of control.

With you in his hands like a play of putty, he felt in control but with one hand on the wheel.

As he palmed your breast, his hand gripped your thigh. His mouth traced a pattern of hot breath along your neck as his tongue relished the salty sweat that had gathered at its leisure. The goosebumps that rose from your skin welcomed his breath kindly.

“I want this house to ourselves,” Felix moaned. “So we don’t have to be quiet.”

“Tell me what you’d do,” you asked him, placing your hand over his own and bringing his fingers to you. He cupped your heat as you groaned, guiding him back and forth to gather the wetness he could feel different from the water of the tub.

“Tell me what you’d do to me.” You spoke faintly. “Tell me and I’ll be quiet.”

You guided one of Felix’s fingers in you as he shushed the sounds that threatened to speak themselves into existence.

He put his lips on your ear as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you with a slow glide. So plush and tight, he thought to himself. It sucked him in and dared not to spit him out.

“I would fuck you on the floor,” he breathed out against your cheek. “I’d spread you wide and taste your sweet pussy as the sun bathes the floor. And when I’m done, we go to the pool-“

Felix pulled out his finger, tracking it along your folds before going in with two. You arched against his back, drawing up as he pulled you back down and rested his hand on your waist.

You curled the toes of your right foot down the edge of the tub.

“-we’d go to the pool and sit out in the sun. You’d give me head in one of the chairs and I’d paint your fucking face with my cum.”

You clenched around his fingers. His thumb pressed into your clit, another jolt aching to send you squirming but he held you down as he patterned circles on the gentle flesh.

“You like that, don’t you?” He breathed in the smell of you. “And maybe we’d go for a walk through the maze after dinner. I’d fuck you in the center and you could scream as loud as you fucking want. No one could get to us. No one would hear us.”

“F-F-“

“No, no, no, shh,” Felix shushed. “Good girls only win by being quiet, yeah?”

You nodded, clenching onto his fingers again as a strangled ‘fuck’ tumbled out of his lips. He could imagine the coil building. Felix wasn’t going to let you finish alone.

Felix pulled his fingers from you and felt the disappointment in the wither of your body.

“But I don’t want to imagine what’d I’d do if we were alone,” Felix blanked. “Turn around.”

As the water sloshed around you, you turned to wrap your arms around his neck. Like you, Felix had sweat beading from his jaw that glimmered in the red light of the bathroom. He looked intoxicated, entranced but in control of what he could.

“I want to see you ride me like the fucking whore you are.”

You weren’t a whore. But for Felix, you could be anything.

At the nape of his neck, you gripped the back of his hair and drew his head back as your other hand gripped him under the water.

Hard and lengthy, his cock was a welcome intrusion every time. You pumped him in your hand slowly. The sounds of water creating currents was soothing against the sounds of your battered breaths kissing his own. You lifted yourself on your knees, leaning against Felix as he squeezed your ass tightly, watching as you lowered yourself onto him under the water. Slender and veined, your cunt molded to him like art. You both would never tire of the feeling so profound.

It would never be like this with anyone else.

Loose pants left his lips as you sat completely full of him. A fit for a King in his own home, he supposed. Once you had settled with him inside, you moved above him.

The water moved languidly too. Meeting the fiery skin of two intoxicated minds too oblivious to see the peering eyes between the crack of a door.

“Right there, baby, right there,” Felix mumbled as you rose again and again, drawing him in and out as he stretched you with every swell and spur he could muster on his own.

“You’re such a good girl, darling. So good for me.”

You could peer down at him from above. Your breath fanning his face and lips but never seeking to truly kiss him as your hand tangled in his hair.

Bits of water spilled over the tub and splashed onto the floor. It soaked the ash tray and the speckles of ash and bud that littered the floor.

“Don’t stop baby. Don’t fucking stop,” Felix crooned in the room’s empty sounds. Only the pleasured sighs and gasping breaths filled the air.

You bounced on his cock with a measured pace. Each stroke of his manhood against your velvet walls lured him deeper into you, entangled with the missing links of a year gone by.

“Felix,” you broke the rules to whisper in his ear. He was taken away by the insatiable need of his rapture. He listened. He beckoned to your call.

“Tell me that you love me.”

From the shadows, Oliver Quick felt his blood run as hot as the sun. He loved Felix.

“I love you.”

Whom did not love him back.

“Tell me you need me.”

He was enamored by the idea of Felix.

“I need you.”

Who was enamored with the idea of Oliver.

“And what do you want from me?”

He was taken by the sight before him.

“I need you to cum, baby. I need you to fucking cum for me.”

Oliver was taken by the gleam of your skin. The way Felix’s throat bobbed as a strangled groan escaped his lips and the way your own melted onto his forehead in a silent struggle to come down from a high.

You placed both hands on his slender chest, careening like winged victory in a heated satisfaction.

Your fingers shook.

He had never seen a woman shake so elegantly before. The tremble of your lips as you breathed in shaking respite, the jolt of your shoulder blade as Felix ran a hand up your back.

Oliver licked his lips at the sight.

Felix lifted his head from its position against the tub. His eyes fluttered open as you pulled away in the slightest.

And Felix smiled.

You returned the grin with one of your own as his still sat erect inside of you. The bubbles of the tub had long ceased to exist and the water that was left was filled with the combined spent of you both.

“I don’t think I won that one,” you chuckled quietly, pushing hair out of Felix’s face before cupping his cheek in your hand.

“I’ll take pity on you, I guess.”

“The water’s gone cold.”

Felix kissed the inside of the palm of your hand. He cherished the high that lingered.

“The water’s gone cold,” he repeated. “But we could stay here forever.”

“Pruned and sweaty? Not a chance in fucking hell, Felix.” You laughed a bit too loudly. Oliver disappeared at the groan Felix let out as you pulled off of him.

You stood before him as the water dripped from every piece of you. Marbled and finite of the most precious carvings he only wished to hold forever.

As you exited the tub and the throb of him began to settle, you grabbed his linen shirt from the floor, draping it over you as it stuck to the wetness of your skin.

“The bed is just the slightest bit more comfortable.”

And you disappeared behind his doorway with call for more as the walls of Saltburn added another sordid story to add to it woven trims.

But it was never just the walls of Saltburn watching.

A/N: as always, the best gift of reading is likes AND reblogs and why not, we love comments too. Thank you for reading and feel free to check out my other works on my masterlist here. xo

[monarchberrysblog]

Hmo but

What if Miguel finds out you used to date the Harry Osborn from your world? You and Harry used to date but broke up on friendly terms but then you meet sometime where Miguel’s visiting your world for a date, and then his possessive instinct is like: She’s mine 😏

Then ✨smut✨ and ofc he has a marking kink

INTERLINKED

credit to @r3ds_art_ on Twitter and Instagram!

✭ 🔞 Miguel O’Hara x fem! Reader ✭

✮ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: possessive (adj.) → demanding someone’s total attention and love. having the knowledge that you used to be with someone left a sour taste in miguel’s mouth. especially knowing that you are still in good terms with them to this day.

✭ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: biting kink? (idk what it’s called), cumplay (?), unprotective p-in-v, semi-exhibitionism (y'all get caught), possessive behavior (kinda?)

✭ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: +1.7k words

✭ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: mwehehehe (once again, if there are errors i apologize in advance as i felt like i read this multiple times and don't see any errors) enjoy!

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 | 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃

Harry was your first love. Something so fleeing that if you were to blink or glance at it, it disappeared instantly. It blurred into your life the way acrylic colors blended to create a clash of colors like a summer evening in July. It was all tangy and sweet, with a scalding, sweaty undertone. Beautiful yet uncomfortable to endure.

He was sweet, resembling a sweet syrup in any refresher you would get in a coffee shop. Sweet, yet messy. The sap wasn't noticeable until it became unbearable to have in between your fingers.

Enduring the sappy-like texture on the tip of your fingers, wiping the mess clean from your skin, bonding with Henry became inevitable. You didn't want to let him go, but it was for the better for each other.

But after growing out of each other, things ended with a silver lining—growing and learning within a long distance from each other.

Then, you met Miguel.

Another man from another dimension.

Meeting someone from another world was not on your bucket list, let alone in the span of goals you had for the next few years or so. But Miguel managed to tergiversate his way into your plans (and heart). He fit right into your life like a puzzle piece you didn't know was missing.

And you love it.

/

“Is your dish okay? Because if it isn't, I can send it back and—” You fade his rambles with a gentle touch on his hand. “Yes, it's perfect Migs. Thank you.” The sound of cutlery clicking on the white ceramic plates complimented the ambiance of the warm-lit dining area.

Small chatter created a cozy environment that made anyone lull to sleep. “And please, don't yell at the chef like last time.” You forcefully giggle and can almost imagine the events playing out like a storyboard.

“They didn't give you the grilled chicken fillet.” He grumbles, looking away from his dish and to the side, keeping his gaze on the maroon carpet. “Hey,” You gently cupped his cheek, disregarding your silverware. “It’s okay. Sometimes, we make mistakes on off days. It's nothing new.”

“I know,” He pouts. “I just want you to have a warm meal.”

“And I'm grateful for your well-being. Just don't yell at the chef and make them cry again. Please.” You plead, gently rubbing his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb. “…okay.” He grumbles in defeat, taking your hand away from his face and gently holding your hand with a reassuring squeeze.

“I won’t.”

/

You worked on your dish, taking in pasta forkfuls and grilled chicken. Miguel keeps a close eye while eating his dish, savoring his fillet mignon. You basked in the silence, probably in your little world while with him. But a single greeting broke the mellow silence. “Hey,”

It wasn't just a simple “Hey” to get someone’s attention. Instead, it was an exasperated one. The exhale is a sign of relief—the relief of seeing someone familiar after a long period of time. A sigh that read, “Oh, it's been a while; I missed seeing you..”

Miguel’s head turned for him without his brain enabling his thought process. “Oh, hey, Harry.” You smile, showing off your little dimples to him. “What brings you here?” Harry makes his way over to the two of you, unaware of the daggers that Miguel was throwing at him. “I’m here with Miguel. My boyfriend.”

Harry turns his attention to your aggravated partner, oblivious to the aura Miguel sent. “Already moved on? That was fast.”

Not an amusing joke, even for Harry. He lets out a forced laugh, hoping to drown out the awkward air around them—it only made it more suffocating to be in that bubble. “It's been a couple of years.” You laughed, trying to ease the unsteady environment. But it was laughable beyond that point.

While exchanging words, Harry’s wavering eyes remained on you, taking in every feature about you. “You work here?” You ask as you look up at Harry. “As a server only.”

Your smile, cute dimples, everything caught Harry’s attention. It felt like he was looking at the playing field and wondering if he was about to get to second base. The conversation dragged like a snail, going slowly for Miguel.

“But it was nice seeing you.” The only best solution was stepping on the awkward waters rising as Harry nodded and sighed. “Yes, it was nice seeing you too. But let me know if you guys need anything.” With a simple nod, he walks off almost in a rushed manner.

/

“Jesus.” Miguel was now away from the warm dining area of the restaurant and now in the men’s room. He stood in the handicap stall momentarily, burying his face into his palms. The last thing he needed to happen was for you to lecture him on his behavior, especially now that Harry had dropped by unannounced.

“You’re exaggerating, you're exaggerating.” He repeats the mantra, sounding like a possessed man. If anyone were to walk in, some eye brows would have been raised. But after repeating the phrase a couple more times, he stops and rubs his eyes, much to his doctor's dismay about the habit.

“It's fine.” He thinks, reaching for the stall door to step out. But the sound of a familiar voice and a different voice enter the washroom. “Who was that woman who you greeted earlier?”

“An ex,” Harry states matter of factly.

“You miss her, don't you?” The other voice inquires as if they anticipated drama. “I've seen the way you look at her.” The other voice adds. “Yeah, but just as friends! It's been a while since we last spoke.”

A little, just a little?

“But she's with someone else.” Harry stumbles his words, attempting to redeem his words.

“And you don't seem okay with that.” A lingering silence suffocates space immediately. A sigh from Harry fills the space, shattering the awkwardness.

“I'm okay with it. I just miss her company.”

The corner of Miguel’s lip subtly twitches, a sign of irritation. He waits, waiting for the two men to finish their discussion. It wasn't until ten minutes later that they finally left. Almost as if he were following behind, Miguel steps out of the stall silently, feeling his senses get overwhelmed with his typical possessive return once again.

/

“Keep it down for me, bebe. Can you do that for me?” He bites down on your neck and nibbles on your skin. The flat of his tongue lathers against the bite crevices, soothing the dull, aching pain. “Your canines…” Your comment fell silent before his lips kissed the now red mark against your flesh before his hands worked quickly to raise the hem of your skirt. “Shhh, we don't need to get kicked out, do we?” He whispers. The family bathroom immediately got filled with scuffles and moving around of clothes. His ring and pointer finger ghost at your clothed cunt, dragging the tips of his fingers down your entrance, feeling the dampness.

“I just bit you, and you’re all riled up? Pobrecita.” He pouts to you and slowly moves the gusset of your underwear to the side gently with a tug. “Just keep it down for me, okay? Can you do that for me?” His gentle movements drew out soft whines and moans from your mouth like word vomit while his fingers traced your entrance, drawing out your glistening arousal.

"Just be quiet for me," he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, helping himself to another bite of your soft skin. He follows his fingers, delving into your fluttering wall, eagerly taking his fingers in. "Shhh..." The sound of wet, sticky gushes fills the family room bathroom, with your mess dripping down onto the floor and occasionally on the bathroom wall.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, occasionally feeling his two fingers curl slightly. You bit down on your bottom lip, humming out your pleasure to the rhythm of his finger moving in and out.

"Don't make a mess, I don't want you to ruin my watch."

The soft thrusting of his fingers moved rapidly, pulling his fingers out completely before shoving his fingers back into your needy pussy. The rapid thrusts became too much, releasing your mess along with your cum all over the floor before you. "Ay, ya te dije." He pulls his fingers out, shaking his hand dry and lifting you up on the sink counter. "I told you to not make a mess." He put a resting finger against your fluttering core, lightly pushing down to soothe the stretch.

"Spread for me a bit, nena." He whispers and grasps onto your thighs, helping you. You could already imagine the mess you left behind the counter, leaving a glistening mess on the marble. You open up for him with a meek "Okay." You feel your legs trembling against the cold marble. You watch on as Miguel hurries to take off his pants, shoving the pants down quickly and dragging you close to his aching member.

A soft moan escaped your lips, feeling his length rub against your core and clit, lightly thrusting his length in between your entrance. "Let me just prepare myself," He whispers, slowly collecting your slick against his length. You let out a whine before you let out a moan, feeling his tip occasionally slip in between your folds. He thrusted his tip in a couple more times before he continued to grind his length against your clit.

“There we go. Let’s get you comfortable.” He whispers into your ear before he slowly pushes himself in, earning a loud moan from you. He immediately covered your mouth, muffling your beautiful sounds.

“Shh, be good and keep it down.” He whispers while gently pushing his tip against your cervix, occasionally earning a soft cry in pain. You felt him slowly pull out and keep a gentle pace. “Is that better, nena?” He croons into your ear. He grinds his length into you, trying to keep your moans and mews at a limit.

“So good, cariño.” He whispers. “Come on, hold on for a while.” His fingers trace the soft red marks on your neck, putting pressure to soothe the pain.

“I want us to be in here for a moment.”

/

The two of y'all rushed out of the bathroom, getting chased out of the restaurant by two servers. “And get out of here! Never come back!” They yell out as soon as the two of you scurry out while adjusting your clothes. You exchanged breathy laughs with each other when you felt the cold air nip at your skin.

“I told you to keep it down.”

[astrophileous]

HI! i love your works and writing so much!! 🩷can i make a request for spencer x fem!reader, where spencer sees reader play with children (whether it be henry or a different child) and gets turned on? later, smut with a breeding kink?🩷 FEEL FREE TO IGNORE IF YOU DONT WANT TO DO IT🫶

OKAY BUT A DISCLAIMER FIRST: smut is so fucking hard to write ISTG!!!! It took me far too long a time to finish this and now I might have just acquired a newfound level of respect for any fic writers out there who regularly whip out smut in every fic. With that said, I hope you bear with me bcs I'm new and generally inexperienced in writing smut, so I hope this is to your liking 😭😭😭 ty for the request and waiting so patiently!! ❤️

Warning(s): fem!reader, 18+ smut content minors dni, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), breeding kink, praise kink (?), talks of impregnation, profanities, this is just porn without plot tbh

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

"What's going on with you?" you asked as soon as the front door was shut behind your back.

Spencer turned around at your question. "What? Nothing's going on with me."

"Don't lie, Spencer. You've been awfully quiet since we left JJ's house." Your statement drove Spencer to tear his gaze away, but before he could take another step, you had seemingly transported right in front of him. "Talk to me. What's going on? Did something happen?"

"Nothing happened, sweetheart. Just forget it, okay?"

"No, I wanna know. Tell me."

Spencer's jaw clenched at your display of persistence. You didn't miss the way his eyes turned a few shades darker as he pinned you with his relentless stare.

"You really wanna know?" Spencer murmured.

Before you could give him a verbal answer, your fiancé suddenly pushed himself forward, trapping your body with his as your back collided against the wall. You gasped at his proximity. The atmosphere quickly shifted as you felt Spencer trailing his nose against the length of your neck.

"You wanna know what's going on? The truth is, I've been going insane," Spencer admitted against your ear. "You're driving me insane."

"Spencer, what are you talking about?"

Against what you thought was possible, Spencer propelled himself further into you, to the point where the air you breathed out became the same one he inhaled. Spencer's knee shoved itself between the apex of your thighs, making you gasp from the unexpected friction that his movement caused.

"I watched you back at JJ's. The way you acted around Henry? I can't stop thinking about it, sweetheart. It's driving me crazy."

"What?" An involuntary gasp slipped past your lips when Spencer's teeth lightly grazed your pulse point. "What are you—"

"I want us to have a baby."

The shock you felt was undoubtedly written all over your face. Spencer pulled back just the tiniest bit so he could stare right into your eyes. The gentleness in his pupils contradicted the desperation found in all of the ministrastions he pulled so far.

"I know when we talked about it in the past, it always seemed like such a distant thing. But after seeing you today—how you doted on Henry? I can't help it, sweetheart." Spencer's fingers strayed towards your cheek, tracing an invisible line until his touch met your jaw. "I want to have a family with you, and I want it to happen sooner rather than later. You own my forever, angel. There's no doubt in my mind that you'll become as amazing a mother just as you are a person."

The admission rendered you speechless. Time arrived into a screeching halt where it stayed there for seemingly thousands of years. Spencer was assessing you with worry in the consequent silence, trying to solve the cipher in your countenance that could give him a clue to what you were thinking.

Just as he was about to call out your name, you lunged forward out of the blue, claiming his lips in an earth-shattering kiss.

The two of you molded into one another like a pair of fitted puzzle pieces. Fire was raging inside your chest when you pulled away, first telltale signs of arousal stirring in the pit of your stomach.

"I wanna have a baby with you, Spencer. Please, I love you so much."

Spencer groaned wholeheartedly at the confession before diving back to kiss you even more fervently than before. Amidst the roaming hands and pleasurable gasps, the two of you somehow managed to stumble into the bedroom you had shared together for the past couple of years. Shed clothes littered the entire path you trudged, and in the blink of an eye, you found yourself naked on the bed with Spencer hovering above you clad in only his boxers.

"You're so beautiful," Spencer mused before taking one of your nipples in his explorative mouth. You writhed in pleasure while his fingers toyed with your other breast, making sure that no inch of your beauty escaped his attention. "Can't wait to see these full of milk, sweetheart. You'd look so beautiful pregnant with my baby."

You could only mewl when Spencer's lips trailed further southward, peppering kisses beneath your navel, just a sliver to where you needed him the most.

"Spencer, please. Ah. Don't tease."

Your fiancé chuckled at the desperation he heard in your voice. If it were any other day, he would have taken the time to edge you even further for the next few hours. But Spencer could feel his boxers getting tighter by the minute, and not wanting to prolong it any further, he slid downward until he was met with the view of your glistening folds.

"Fuck. So wet and gorgeous. Wish you could see how pretty you look, angel."

The moment Spencer's mouth touched your most sensitive part, you were gone for. His tongue lapped your juices like he was a man lost in a dessert while you were his oasis. The moans fled your throat when his lips wrapped around your taut clit, sucking and circling it with his tongue until you thrashed around uncontrollably. He then used his left forearm to pin your torso down, while his other hand started prodding the entrance to your heat.

"Oh my god, Spencer—mmphh," you whined when two of Spencer's fingers were snugly sheathed inside of you, going in and out until the whole room was overpowered by the obscene sound of your squelching wetness.

"You're so wet, angel. Holy shit," Spencer marveled as he fixated onto the movements of his fingers inside of you, the digits shining from your arousal that coated them. "So warm and tight, too. This all for me?"

"For you, Spencer, only for—oh, only for you. Feels so, mmhh, so good."

Spencer knew you were getting close from how tightly your walls were gripping his fingers, along with the way you were grinding your hips against his hand as if trying to amplify the pleasure you were reeling from. But right before the coil in your belly snapped, Spencer promptly removed his hand from your heat, making you whimpered in protest from the loss of contact.

"Patience, angel," Spencer said, leaning down to give you a quick kiss. "I want to be inside you and feel you around me as you cum."

He made quick work in removing his boxers, revealing his erection that was already red and leaking pre-cum on the tip. Spencer hissed when he gave himself a few lazy tugs, aware of your burning stare as you watched him with a raging want.

"Ready, sweetheart?" Spencer asked, waiting for your nod before sliding his tip in. You moaned into his neck until the entire length of his cock was snugged inside, clutching Spencer for dear life as the man cursed against your cheek. "You feel so good around me. Fuck. You alright, angel?"

You could only nod meekly in response. "Need you to move, Spence. Please, move."

Spencer didn't need to be told twice. He drew his hips back until the only thing engulfed by your pulsating walls was his tip, before ramming back into you with enough force to knock the breath out of your lungs.

In no time at all, your fiancé was moving in and out of you vigorously. The lewd sound of skin against skin echoed within the four walls of your bedroom, fueling your desire until your whole being was consumed by everything Spencer. You swore you could almost feel every ridge and vein of Spencer's cock as it slid in and out of your weeping hole, but your hazy brain would argue that it was plainly your lust talking.

"Spencer." His name came out as a gasp as you felt the imminent climax rising higher and higher. "I'm so—ah, s-so close. Please, please, please, I need to—"

"I know, sweetheart. I know you are. Can feel you squeezing around me. Shit. Milking me so good, hm? Gonna milk me, angel? Gonna milk my cock dry?"

You couldn't think of any other reply to Spencer's crude words except to moan even louder.

"I'm close, too, sweetheart. Fuck. I love being inside you like this. 'M gonna cum so much, gonna have my seed so deep inside you until your womb is filled to the brim."

Your walls fluttered at the thought of being full of Spencer's cum, and this little knowledge didn't evade your fiancé's notice as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.

"You like that, huh? Like the thought of my cum in your womb? Can't wait until you're all big and round, sweetheart. You're gonna make such a beautiful mommy."

"Wanna be a mommy, Spencer, I wanna have your baby!"

"Yeah? You want that? Wanna be pregnant with my baby and make me a daddy? Have a part of me inside of you, huh? Shit. Can picture it now, sweetheart. You'll look so gorgeous pregnant. Most beautiful mommy in the world."

Spencer's hips stuttered slightly. The mental image of you pregnant and barefoot, walking around your shared home carrying his child was doing abominable things to every neuron in his brain. That thought alone, along with the way your pussy was getting tighter around him by the second, was inevitably going to push him over the edge.

Without ever abating his pace, Spencer's fingers reached down towards your clit and started rubbing as if there was no tomorrow. You let out a scream at the added sense of pleasure that Spencer's fingers sent to your belly.

"That's it, angel. Just let it go for me. Let go and I'll give you every drop of my cum."

Another powerful thrust, coupled with a delicious stimulation to your bundle of nerves, had you cumming around Spencer's cock like you had never been before. It was one of the most intense orgasms of your life, and you couldn't do anything but wail and moan as Spencer continued to move inside you through it all.

Mere seconds later, Spencer's own undoing crashed into him like a truck. You felt his cock throb before warmth flooded in, spurts of cum painting every inch of your walls until Spencer was sure there was nothing else to empty. He collapsed on top of you as soon as he was done pulling out, panting breaths and a satiated smile as he buried his face in the column of your neck.

"So—" you began once your breathing had evened out, "—we're doing this, huh?"

Spencer looked up at your face. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"No. Definitely not. There's no one I'd rather do this with more than you, Spencer." You smiled, tucking a strand of your fiancé's overgrown curly hair behind his ear. "Although, I do have to say, I didn't expect you to be that type of guy."

"What type of guy?"

"The kind who gets territorial and borderline obsessed with the thought of impregnating their woman."

Your statement caused Spencer to laugh, crinkling eyes and head thrown back in a way that made your heart fall a little deeper for the man. You closed your eyes and sighed when his hand rose to cup your cheek.

"Can't help it, sweetheart. Any guy would be driven wild to have you as the mother of their child. I'm the luckiest guy in the world."

Spencer's proclamation was sealed with a kiss to your lips. It started out innocent enough before escalating in desperation with every minute that ticked by. Spencer swallowed all of your whimpers even when his hand started to meander downward, all the way past your abdomen, and right under your navel where your arousal was beginning to awaken once again.

At the first swipe of thumb on your clit, you gasped against his lips.

"Spence, what are you—"

"Sshh, we're far from finished, sweetheart. Didn't think I'd be done with you so quickly, did you?" Spencer smirked. "I'm gonna keep fucking you through the night, however long it takes, and fill you with loads after loads of my cum to make sure you are pregnant once this is all over. Now, you just lie back, angel. 'M gonna make you feel so fucking good."

[smolvenger]

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.

[cassie48]

|𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦|

King hal / Henry V x fem lady!reader

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𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘺.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭. 𝘈𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥, 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘢𝘭, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘎𝘰𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘱, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘺. 𝘏𝘦'𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦 king. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘯𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬.

𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴. 𝘈𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘹. 𝘕𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢𝘴 𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.

𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥. 𝘖𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝗮𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘭.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵. 𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘶𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘐𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘺.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥. 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘶𝘵. 𝘚𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝗵𝗮n𝗱𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲.

𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘏𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯. 𝘏𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘴.

𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘯𝘰𝘸 t𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨.

"𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤" 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 "𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦" 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰�� 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 s𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯.

"𝘉-𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

"𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘪 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘪 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦" 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥, 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦.

𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥, 𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘰. 𝘏𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘨𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘵.

𝘌𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘺. 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘵.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦.

[featherandferns]

angel (fic)

jj maybank x fem!shy!kook!reader | technically the sequel for fascinating new thing, but can be read as a stand-alone too

content warning: pure filth, to be honest; sex (f and m self-pleasure; protected, p in v)

word count: 3k

blurb: jj knows there's something hidden beneath all the layers of quiet and meek; he just has to coax it out of you.

Nobody expected JJ Maybank to end-up having a thing for you, including JJ himself. He couldn’t explain how it happened, or when exactly, but it went from him being somewhat wary of you to completely desperate to have your gaze on him. It seemed that one day you just had him: hook, line and sinker. JJ had sort of accepted that he didn’t have a chance, especially with a certain ginger haired boy lingering in the background. He’d admire from afar and settle for friendship if that’s all you could offer him. But then you kissed him, and everything seemed to fall into place. JJ was allowed privy to your thoughts and the different facets of yourself: watching you song write and waking you from a nightmare and indulging in the late-night baking. He liked every part of it. Everything that was you.

Well, almost everything.

“You can’t seriously enjoy this crap?”

“Be quiet, please,” you mumble.

JJ rolls his eyes. He has one arm under his head, propping it up so he can see the screen of your laptop, and the other on your stomach, resting atop your tee shirt. He’s spooning you, cosy under the sheets of your bed.

It’s the second time he’s been in your bedroom. It’s a nice room; perfectly encapsulates you. Vinyl records and CDs and a million and one potted plants and succulents. Fairly lights draped above your bed and around a pinboard of pictures and keepsakes, shining a delicate golden hue on your belongings. An acoustic guitar rests against the wall by your bedroom door. It’s wide open right now. No need to have it shut; your parents aren’t home.

Looking back to the screen, JJ tries and fails to hold in a sigh.

“Can you be quiet, please?” you repeat.

“Who is that? The guy?”

“George the third.”

“The third? Is that the one that murdered all his wives?”

“JJ, I can’t hear it,” you complain quietly.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. He barely pays attention to the drama on the screen, too busy foraging through his brains for the history of English royals. “Is he though?”

You sigh, annoyed. “No. That’s Henry the Eighth. And he didn’t murder all of them. Just two.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay then,” JJ sarcastically replies.

For some reason, he feels as though you’ve rolled your eyes. He attempts to watch the show that you’ve become obsessed with lately. The characters don’t talk like normal people. Everything is so flowery and over-the-top that he hardly understands what they’re talking about. It’s boring and dull and overdramatic. He lets his mind wander.

“Baby?”

“JJ?”

“Just a quick question.”

“Yes?” you sigh, patience clearly dwindling.

“Is George the Third the one that got really fat?”

“No, that’s George the fourth,” you say.

“Which one’s George the third then?”

“George the third is the one that was ruler when America won its independence. I mean, do you listen to anything in history?” you chuckle. JJ feels the muscles in your belly tighten and loosen as you do.

“Sometimes,” he shrugs. “When it’s interesting. Like, I don’t get how all of this—”

“Shush! I can’t hear what they’re saying!” you snap.

JJ can’t help but snigger. He likes when you lose your temper with him; let the good-girl side of you slip for a moment to put him in his place.

He nuzzles his face into your hair. It smells like cedarwood and salt water. Maybe he’ll just have a nap. You’re not coming away from the show anytime soon – not until the episode’s done, anyway. JJ closes his eyes and vaguely tunes into the droning of dialogue. Lady this and sire that. He’s just about to properly drift off (maybe it’s been five minutes or so) when he’s woken by the feel of you pushing back against his groin. His hold tightens on your stomach and he reluctantly inches his body away slightly.

“Baby don’t do that,” he mumbles sleepily into your hair.

“Do what?” you reply, absentmindedly.

You’re still watching the Goddamn show. He’s not sure if you’re playing dumb or not.

Then, you do it again.

JJ inhales sharply. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Rubbing up on me like that,” he tells you, half-laughing. “S’not fair.”

“Sorry,” you mumble.

He opens his eyes and looks down at the laptop screen. The moment he makes out what’s happening in the show, it clicks. Oh.

Smirking, JJ can’t keep from taking the piss.

“You didn’t tell me that you’re into regency era porn.”

“Shut up,” you reply all too quickly.

“Is it like all royal era stuff or just Henry the third things?”

“George the third!”

“Tomata-tomato,” JJ mutters. Quiet. Then: “Does it have to be in a bathtub or…”

“JJ!” you whine, embarrassed. He laughs into your hair. “Stop it!”

“Alright, alright! I’m just messing around,” he sniggers.

You don’t reply, don’t even seem to be listening to him, with your eyes shamelessly fixated on the screen. JJ starts to watch too, half-curious as to what has you so entranced.

The lighting is dark. Who JJ has finally come to grasp as king George the third is fucking his wife in the bath. She’s riding him, grinding down on him, still in her dress. The music swells with sharp, dramatic violins. This time, when you push back reflexively against JJ, he doesn’t complain. Instead, he uses his hand that’s placed on your stomach to keep you there. He’s only half ashamed to admit that he’s turned on by the regency-era-sex-scene from your corny, cheesy TV show.

Half hard, he rubs against you, sighing into your hair as he does. You don’t shake him off. Instead, you push back against him.

And then, the scene stops. It’s daylight. Cutting to a scene in a conservatory.

JJ shifts his hand so it’s under your tee shirt, moving to stroke at the skin. He feels your stomach constrict underneath his touch, as if you’re holding your breath, and then relax. He places a kiss to your neck, then another, and begins to work on a hickey. You let out a shaking breath, eyes only half-focused on the show, now. One of your hands comes down to lay atop of his, though not in discouragement. JJ can’t help but rut against you again. In the haze of kissing at your throat, he finds himself wishing a silent prayer that you won’t pull away this time.

He doesn’t mind waiting. Really, he doesn’t. He’d probably wait forever for you (if he really had to). He knows how nervous you get; knows all of this is new to you. Understands. Doesn’t want you to feel pressured. But, God, JJ would be lying if he said that he didn’t want to fuck you. That he didn’t jack off almost every night to the thought of it. That seeing you, drenched head to toe, stood in nothing but a bikini after surfing didn’t have him shifting in his seat. That having you pressing up against him like you had been tonight didn’t make his mind shoot off to the darkest, dirtiest places. So, yes, he’ll stop if you ask, but he’s praying, borderline close to begging, that you don’t.

Your fingers loop into his hair, pulling him off your neck. He shifts enough back so you can turn your head, meeting his eyes. Your breathing heavier than usual, lips wet as if you’ve been licking at them. Your eyes are dancing over his face, back to his eyes, glancing at his lips. JJ’s hand on your stomach continues scratching softly at your skin. He gently rubs himself against you. Please.

“I’ve never done this before,” you whisper. There’s a tinge of nerves to your voice.

JJ nods. Swallows. “I know.”

“But…I want to,” you quietly say. A smile teasing at the corner of your lips as you nod. “If you do, that is.”

JJ leans down so his forehead bumps against yours. He exhales a chuckle against your lips. “It’s all I’ve been able to think about since the hammock.”

You giggle, perhaps a little stunned at the confession, and then your lips are on his.

JJ’s rolling onto his back, sighing into the kiss, pulling you atop of him. His hand that was under his head now reaches out to close the laptop, shoving it to the foot of the bed (hopefully where it won’t fall off). Then he’s kissing you with newfound hunger. Tongue slipping into your mouth lewdly, brushing against yours, swallowing your sighs and breaths. Whenever you break apart, it’s for less than a moment. Your hands have come up to cradle his face, fingers splayed across his cheek and jaw. One of his resides on your waist, squeezing at the skin, and his other has fallen onto your bare thigh; the pyjama shorts you’re wearing having ridden up.

When you lean back against him, rolling down on his crotch, JJ groans against your lips. The gasp you let out is small, startled, as you feel him, hard against you.

“We don’t have to,” JJ reminds you, though the id in him is crying out yes, we do. Please.

You shake your head, hands still on his face. “I want to.”

Thank fucking God.

As the two of begin to kiss again, JJ lets his hand creep up your stomach. His fingers gently trace up the soft skin. He feels the ripples of your breaths as he goes; they’re uneven. Bringing his hand up to your chest, cupping at the bare skin, you sigh against him. He begins to tenderly palm at your breast, running a finger back and forth over your nipple, grinning to himself as he feels it harden at his touch.

You’re grinding back on him now, making him uncomfortably hard under his boxers, sensitive as he rubs against the fabric. JJ opens his eyes to look up at you, your kiss naturally breaking as you begin to breath more and more heavy. Frowns as he sees you dig your teeth into your lower lip. He lifts his hand from off your thigh to bring his thumb to your lips, tugging it free.

“I wanna hear you,” JJ mumbles, tone only slightly demanding.

You open your eyes. They’re angel-like; innocent and shining under the fairy-light glow. Then, you do something that has him twitching, horny past the point of no return. You take his thumb into your mouth and suckle at his finger. JJ groans at the sight. Jesus Christ. Something in you seems to shine through and take control. You don’t say anything as you hold his hand in both of yours, guiding his thumb out your mouth only to begin sucking on his pointer finger. Your eyes slip shut as you do, as if you’re getting off on doing so, and you sigh out a quiet moan. JJ feels himself begin to smirk, taken aback somewhat. Okay…

Pulling his finger from out of your mouth tentatively, he lets his thumb pinch at your chin. The dampness of your spit streaks onto your skin, if only slightly. JJ suddenly knows what his new favourite thought of you is. Your chest is rising and falling, lips parted, cheeks warm as if there’s a part of you longing to be embarrassed. But you’re not. Not shying away from him, at least. JJ’s hands find the hem of your shirt and coax it over your head. As he goes, he guides you to lie down on your back – head at the foot of the bed – and crawls on top of you. One of your feet hesitantly rubs at the back of his calve. Then your fingers are tugging at the bottom of his top and he leans back to take it off. Easing back down to kiss at your chest, he can’t help but sigh against the sensitive skin.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Your nails dig into the skin of his back. You don’t reply, but he feels as though you’re shaking your head. Glancing up, he frowns.

“You are,” he repeats.

“Can you not say things like that to me right now…” you mumble, retreating back into yourself.

JJ sighs, somewhat disappointed.

“Sorry,” you add. It makes JJ chuckle, his breath fanning against your chest.

“You don’t gotta be sorry, baby,” he replies, moving to kiss at one of your nipples. One of your hands creeps up to his face, fingers slipping into his hair. A small gasping exhale at the sensation. “Just wish you saw yourself the way I see you, sometimes.”

You’re sighing at the attention he’s giving your body. His hand comes up to grope at your neglected breast. More gasps, more breaths. You’re still so quiet. JJ knows it’s in there, could see it trying to break out when you were sucking on his fingers, he just has to coax it out of you.

Leaning back (a string of spit following), JJ sits back on his haunches and takes you in. Wonders what to do with you, as if you’re fully at his mercy. You’re looking at him, watching him. Laid out on your back, near bare and gorgeous, breathing heavy. You're half covering your chest, not used to being so exposed before someone.

Maybe he’ll just fuck you now. JJ's barely holding it together as it is. No, you’ll be too tight if he does. He has to remind himself that this is new to you. He wants it to be worth it. Wants it to be perfect. Not only that, but he also wants you to appreciate yourself and your body the way he does. Words clearly aren’t gonna cut it; you go squeamish at the faintest of compliments. But maybe…

JJ feels the shadow of a smirk grow on his face with an idea. Makes your lips twitch with a frown, as if confused where his mind might be. The he’s reaching for your spare hand that’s found purchase in the bed sheets. Taking it by the wrist, he guides it over your body, down to your shorts. Your eyes dart up from following it, meeting his eyes. Your lips move as if to say something, but you don’t. So quiet.

“I got an idea,” JJ tells you. He’s so hard it hurts, but he can’t pass up on this opportunity.

Your gaze doesn’t break apart from JJ’s as you let him guide your hand with his under the hem of your shorts. He manoeuvres your fingers easily (you pliant like a doll) and slides it through your folds. You’re soaking. The feel of it makes you gasp. Leaning down, using his other arm to prop himself above you, he guides your conjoined touch back and forth, skimming over your clit. The brief, fleeting touch makes you moan.

JJ smirks. There it is.

“Feel good, huh?” he breaths against your ear, teasingly. You don’t reply but he feels your hand gain more control, working to finger yourself. JJ chuckles. “Knew you were dirty underneath all the good-girl shit you put on.”

It seems that whatever strap was holding you together has snapped. Your honeyed voice is crying out, in moans and whines. Eyes shut, head tilted back, and JJ basks in the sight of you. He gradually lets his hand leave yours, slipping out of your shorts, and watches as you continue getting yourself off underneath your shorts. Chews on the inside of his cheek as he does, bucking against your leg desperately. He can’t help but pull himself out of his boxers, jacking off at the sight. At your sweet, hopeless sounds. Your spare hand is coming to his throat, pulling at his jaw, guiding his lips to yours in a lustful, messy kiss. You’re moaning into his mouth, gasping, voice high and desperate.

“Good girl,” JJ croons. It spurs you on. He’s smirking again, gasping through his own pleasure. Fuck. You’re perfect. How are you so Goddamn perfect?

“You close, baby? You gonna come?”

Your reply comes in a stammered, broken gasp. Yes.

JJ forces his hand from himself, quickly moving to grab at your wrist, pulling your fingers away. They’re drenched. You whine at the loss of contact, so close to the edge it seems, and he chuckles darkly against your jawline.

“Not yet,” he simply says.

As JJ moves to take off your shorts, shucking off his boxers in this process, he catches a glimpse of your hand moving back up your body. His eyes flick up just in time to see you slip your used fingers into your mouth, sucking them clean. Fuck. How JJ doesn’t come on the spot is beyond him. You open your eyes, catching his gaze, and meekly pull them from your mouth. Before you can form the inevitable apology you’re bound to give, JJ’s darting down to capture your mouth in a kiss. Then, he’s climbing atop of you, rubbing at your entrance. Has the both of you gasping against one another.

“Wait,” you mumble, pulling back. “We need a condom.”

“Shit, yeah,” JJ pants. He’d forgotten about that. You point vaguely to your bedside table.

“There should be one in there. Somewhere.”

JJ chuckles slightly and nods, leaning back to riffle through. He can’t help but notice the vibrator, making a mental note of that for another day. Finding one, he’s coming back to you, sliding it on, desperate to be inside of you.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he keeps his eyes on you.

“Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”

“I will,” you quietly reply, a hand coming up to cup at his jaw.

JJ nods and begins to slide in. His eyes reflexively shut; he can’t help it. It feels fucking amazing. Sex with feelings is better than any kegger hook-up he’s ever had.

But you’re tight, too tight, and it’s like your body is trying to push him out. Opening his eyes, he looks down to see your face twisted in pain, lips pursed and eyes squeezed shut.

“Hey, hey,” he mumbles, thumbing at your cheek. You force your eyes open, gazing up at him. “You gotta relax, alright? Just breath out for me.”

You take a moment then do as he asks. He feels your body soften. Nudging a bit further in, you actively try not to go tight again.

“It’s just me,” he reminds you. “You’re doing so good, alright?”

To keep you lax, he rubs gently at your clit. Eventually, your body opens up to him. Once JJ’s eased all the way in, you’re squeezing him like a vice.

“You can move, JayJ,” you say, almost anxious that he isn’t.

JJ laughs a little. He won’t last a second if he moves right now. Closing his eyes, composing himself, he replies, “I really can’t. Gimme a second.”

Soon enough, the two of you sink into a rhythm. JJ places a hand one side of your head, another on your hip, angling you up slightly. Your back begins to arch and you’re moaning again, and JJ decides that it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. Prettier than when you sing. The sounds echoing off the bedroom walls are filthy enough to make Satan himself blush.

"Fuck baby. Feel so fucking good."

Groaning against your shoulder, moaning into your ear, JJ feels his resolve begin to break. He’s close. The way your body is reacting to him has him thinking you are too. His hand leaves your hip to rub at your clit. Quick, firm circles. You start to gasp, high pitched and euphoric, and JJ know he can’t last much longer. It’s too good.

The moment you finish, JJ lets go. The two of you come almost together, riding it out, clinging to each other as if you’ll float away if not. JJ eventually let’s himself collapse on top of you, breathing shallow and frantic. You’re still clenching around him, body dealing with the aftershocks.

JJ’s not sure how he’s supposed to go about the rest of his life knowing what it’s like to have you in bed. How he’s meant to get anything done with the memory of how you sound, gasping out his name. The picture stained in his mind of you sucking your fingers clean.

He presses a kiss to your damp neck, then another and another until he somehow finds your mouth. You sigh as you kiss him back, a hand coming to cradle at his face yet again. He pulls back, opens his eyes into yours, and you give him the sweetest smile he’s ever seen. Bashful and blissed out and beautiful.

“I love you,” you tell him, still a little breathless.

JJ smiles back. Heart stammers.

You wanted him. You picked him.

Kissing you once more, tender and fleeting, JJ sighs. “I love you too.”

[companionjones]

One Night/One Bed

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're staying with Henry during a convention. By the way, there's only one bed.

Warnings: Smut, Cursing

*******

"What? It's not funny?"

Henry's voice resulted in you immediately opening your eyes. You hadn't been asleep when you'd heard him. He was showing you a meme on his phone. You laughed.

"That's a pity laugh," he reprimanded jokingly.

"It is not!" you turned and lightly hit his shoulder.

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm going to sleep anyway." Henry turned off his phone and moved to put it on his nightstand.

You figured the two of you should sleep. You both had a big day tomorrow. Henry had invited you to a convention he was attending. You coming had been a last minute thing, and Henry's people had only gotten him one hotel room, so you and Henry were sharing a bed that night. That was fine with you two. You and Henry had been friends for over a decade. It wasn't too weird for two friends to do, given the situation, right?

The way you and Henry had settled down, his leg was between your two. Things were quiet in the room for a moment, until Henry broke the silence. "You can't feel it, right?"

"No, I can't," you responded without thinking. Then, it hit you, "Wait, what do you mean?"

Though it was too dark to see the blush that could've been on Henry's cheeks, his voice still sounded sheepish. "What do you think I mean?"

"Oh..." You weren't sure what to say. "Um..." You figured honesty was the best policy. You swallowed, "I wouldn't be opposed..."

Henry gave a deep chuckle. "What else wouldn't you be opposed to? A business meeting?"

"Funny--" You went to joke with him again, but in doing so, you moved closer to him. You felt something a little lower on his leg than you expected.

After things were quiet for a moment more, Henry presumably decided to break the ice. "Did you think I was lying?" When he didn't get a response, he started to pull away. "I apologize if I made you uncomfortable--"

He was almost sitting up by the time you got a hold of the collar of his shirt. You pulled him back down to meet your lips.

Once Henry's mind caught up with your actions, he moaned into the kiss. Quickly, however, he pulled away. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked you.

"Yes," was all you got out before tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him in for another kiss.

Henry made quick work after that. He settled you underneath his large form, then moved on top of you. Henry helped you out of his shirt, then pulled off his own. He kissed you again as you slid your shorts and underwear down your legs.

As he shucked off his own lower clothing, Henry admitted to you, "God, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do this."

"I betcha I've waited longer," you challenged with a smile.

"Really?" He didn't sound convinced.

You nodded, "Ever since I saw you in person in that Superman suit." You'd just missed knowing him during the filming of Man of Steel. You were talking about the filming of Batman v. Superman. That was two years after you had met him.

Henry one-upped you. "The Sanderson Dinner." That was the night he had met you.

You didn't know how else to respond other than to grab him by the neck and kiss him. You felt Henry's smile against your lips.

"Are you ready? Cause god knows I am," he declared once he parted from you.

Nodding, you almost begged, "Yes. God, yes. Please, just put it i--" You cut yourself off when your jaw went slack, and you grabbed onto Henry's biceps to anchor yourself. A small whimper escaped your lips.

"Fuck, you are so beautiful like this." Henry stroked the side of your head. He slowly pulled out of you, then slowly pushed back in.

"Oh, god," you sounded out, eyes screwed shut at the intensity.

Henry asked as his thrusts started to find a (still slow) rhythm, "How does it feel?"

"So good, Hen," you answered, eyes still closed.

He smiled, "That's exactly what I wanted to hear." He leaned down, and started going to work on your neck.

It felt so good to have him all over you. You tangled your fingers in his hair and moaned out, "Oh, Henry."

In response, he quickly licked his thumb, then started on your clit. He sped his thrusts up just a little bit.

"Oh, Henry!" you moaned louder, then came.

Once you came down, you noticed you had some drool on the side of your face. No sooner did you notice it that Henry was wiping it away. Actually, it was more like he was smearing it down the side of your face. You didn't care. To you, what Henry did made the whole scene even hotter.

"Think you can give me one more?" Henry asked as he finished ravishing your lips.

Vigorously, you nodded your head.

Henry once again sped up his thrusts. By then he was hitting much deeper in you than before.

"Fuck! Don't stop!" you begged, grabbing a handful of Henry's hair at the back of his head. It only took a few more thrusts for you to cum again, and Henry was right behind you. He helped you ride out your orgasm as he filled you with cum.

After what had to have been at least a couple minutes, you opened your eyes to find Henry Cavill gazing at you with enough intensity to burn a hole through a cement wall. The only thing to do was to kiss him. So you did. You pulled him close to you by the back of his head.

At that point, you and Henry sufficiently lost yourselves in each other. One of your hands stayed on his cheek while the other felt up his chest and landed on his shoulder. Henry's arms circled around you and held you close.

"Henry...Henry." You held him back and got his his attention. "We can't do this again tonight. You have to be up at five a.m.," you finished with a light chuckle.

He shook his head. "Screw tomorrow. I want to stay here with you."

"Very cute." You rolled your eyes.

"Hey." Henry got your attention by trapping your chin between his thumb and index finger. "I'm serious. If you told me to stay here tomorrow and not go to the convention, I wouldn't move a muscle."

You had to shake your head clear. "Are you serious?"

"Very much so," he promised, "I'm serious about this whole thing, if you'll have me."

You were already nodding before Henry was done talking. You kissed him before rolling on top of Henry and smirking. "Ready for Round 2?"

*******

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it! I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[changenameno]

Little Tease (One-shot)

(Complete)

Summary: A few days ago, your new bed had arrived. Technically to solve the space problem you and Henry had. And it did, the bed was huge. But the new mattress that came with it was a bit too hard, that’s why you felt incredibly stiff and desperately needed to move your body a bit. “Accidentally” teasing Henry with your moans while you stretch…

 

Paring: Henry Cavill x Fem. Reader

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, mild back pain, yoga poses? , teasing, daddy kink, degrading words, cursing, P in V

Word Count: 2.4K

 

A/N: Wanted to write for the man himself and came up with this smutty scenario. As always any mistakes are my own. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! Thank you and enjoy!❤️✨

 

👑👑👑👑��👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑

 

When you had woken up, about an hour ago, you had felt like you must have been sleeping on a stone slab. Your back ached rather badly as you carefully turned onto you left side to look at Henry, who was still blissfully asleep, unaware of his surroundings.

His face was completely relaxed, little warm puffs of air leaving his slightly opened mouth.

Even though the new bed was huge, you both lay quite close. Having sought out each other’s body.

 

 

Before, in the old bed you were more or less lying on top of each other, as Henry’s powerfully, broad body had taken up most of the space. And as much as you loved being close to each other, you had slept like crap, waking up every time one of you moved. So he’d ordered a new bed to solve the space issue, unfortunately now a new issue had arisen, at least for you. The stupid mattress was surly created in the Mines of Moria, because not only were you convinced it was made of stone but you also imagined the mattress was just as expensive as some of the dwarf’s gem stones were.

 

 

A little disgruntled, you huffed, jealous that your boyfriend was still sound asleep. Although admittedly you were glad that he could rest a little more, because you loved seeing him this peaceful and relaxed, as his very busy schedule seldom allowed him to sleep in. So he more than deserved all the sleep he could get.

 

 

That’s why, after a few more minutes of lovingly gazing at his face, you quietly got up and tiptoed out of your bedroom, gently closing the door behind you.

 

 

When you went down to the kitchen, you noticed that your back instantly felt better standing up. Though you knew you should at least stretch a little to actually feel better.

As soon as you turned the tap on, to fill a glass of water, Kal showed up, tail wagging lazily.

 

 

He trotted over to were you were leaning against the counter, tail wagging more enthusiastically when you started patting his head, greeting him, “Good morning, boy. Sleep well?” Grinning down at him, as he started licking your hand, “Aww I bet your doggy bed is more comfy than my mattress, huh?,” adding jokingly, “Maybe I need to borrow it sometime.”

 

 

At that he woofed softly, as if he was scandalized at the mere thought, making you giggle, “No I’m just joking, love. Would never dream of stealing your bed.”

 

You quickly gulped down your water, throat parched. Then you prepared Kal’s food, which he happily slobbered up the second you set it down. You knew his first walk of the day wasn’t due for another two hours, so you left the kitchen to retrieve a gym mat so you could actually start stretching.

 

 

Once you had found the mat, you returned to the living room, spreading it out on the floor. The simple act of kneeling down, had you hissing, pain shooting up your spine. “Arrgh, crap…”

 

 

You carefully manoeuvred your body into a laying down position that immediately felt much better. Sighing in relieve, you stretched your limbs out. “Oooh, yeah, that’s the stuff.”

Your muscles seemed to relax somewhat, so once you felt like moving, you wrapped your arms around your knees, pulling them in, until your back was rounded and you could rock back and forth. Another moan escaped you as the tension slowly left your aching body.

 

 

Too concentrated on your exercise you didn’t notice, when curious, blue eyes started watching you.

 

 

You had turned around on your stomach, lightly pushing up into a cobra pose, a soft exhale leaving your parted lips, “Hmm.”

 

 

Henry’s eyes widened, staring hungrily at your sparely clad body, beautifully stretched out before him. You only wore a pair of panties and one of his oversized workout shirts. Apparently you hadn’t noticed him yet, because another whimper broke free, going straight to his cock, as it stirred within his sweatpants. You had moved into the child pose, exposing even more of your skin to the silent spector.

 

 

His shirt had ridden up your back, naked thighs now on full display, white panties barely covering your sweet rump and the even sweeter, little cunt below. His throbbing cock strained the grey fabric of his pants, as you continued to move between the cat and cow pose.

 

 

When he stepped closer, he loudly plonked down on the couch behind you, purposefully noisy to let you know he was there. He didn’t see the sly smirk tugging your lips upwards, as a wicked idea crossed your mind.

 

 

You moved into the cow pose, intentionally bowing your back as much as you could, then you let out, an unreasonably loud and drawn out moan. Knowing exactly what it would do to Henry, you even went as far as spreading your legs a little wider to give him a better view.

 

 

He stopped blinking, laser focused on your pulsing core. Though as nothing else seemed to happen, you upped the ante. Getting into the downward dog positon, whimpering, loudly.

 

 

Henry had had enough of your teasing, growling impatiently, as he jumped off the couch. He got behind you, his thick thighs caging you in, then he pressed his considerable bulge directly against your wet centre. When he grasped you by your hips, you gasped.

 

 

Making him chuckle darkly, “Don’t act so surprised you little tease. You were the one moaning like a seasoned whore for daddy, weren’t you, darling?”

 

 

Oh Lord, he was in one of those moods. You were definitely so, so screwed. Internally you were very pleased that your little show, had turned Henry on so much, his dom side was showing.

 

 

Your happy mewl, turned into a whimper, when he squeezed you tighter, his long fingers digging into your stomach. “Cat got your tongue? I asked you a question. And I expect an answer. Now.”

 

 

Heat began pooling in your belly in response to his domineering presence behind you. “Yeah. I- I moaned, I’m so s-sorry, daddy.”

 

 

A hand began stroking up your spine, dangerously slow as he mocked,” Hmm, are you now? I had the impression, you quite enjoyed riling me up, flaunting your body in daddy’s face.”

 

 

Just as you were about to apologise again, he thrusted his hips forward, groaning when he rubbed his firm bulge over your fluttering pussy. Your panties were so slick by now, your wetness had seeped through the thin fabric and onto his pants, where a little wet spot had formed.

 

 

Henry’s eyes flickered down, noticing your neediness right away.

“Always so eager for my cock, aren’t you?”

 

 

He circled his hips, then rutted against your swollen clit with intent. It made you speechless for a moment too long, because he nearly threw you onto the couch, as you had failed to answer yet again. The abruptness of it all making you shriek. Panting at the exhilaration of being so powerless when faced with his brutal strength, you eagerly stared up at him.

 

 

Henry’s hairy chest was bared as he had only slept in his sweat pants. Towering over you, as you lay beneath him on the couch. He had his arms crossed, making his biceps look even more brawny than usually. Intense blue eyes glaring down at you.

 

 

Shivering under his attentive gaze, you opened your legs for him, swiftly pulling his workout shirt off your body, flinging it behind the couch. His dilated pupils zoned in on your bared breasts, Adams apple bobbing within his throat. You bit your lip enticingly as you breathed, “What are you waiting for-... daddy?”

 

 

It had the desired effect, as he took hold of your thighs, spreading them even wider apart, for him to stand in-between, then he growled deeply, “Behave.”

 

 

He pulled his sweats down, fat cock immediately standing at attention. You breathed shakily, as you saw a pearl of precum making its way down his length, unconsciously licking your lips.

 

 

Henry smirked, one hand wrapped around the thick base, slowly moving up. He groaned softly, while watching your helpless form.

 

 

You wanted to touch yourself, but you also wanted to be good for him and he hadn’t given you permission to do so yet, so you restrained yourself. You could do it. You could be his good girl. You just had to ignore the immense heat between your thighs for a little while longer.

 

 

He grinned, “That’s right, keep your eyes on me, such a good girl.” Henry thoroughly enjoyed you watching him pump his cock. For you it was torture. You needed him to touch you.

 

 

You whimpered pathetically, to signal him to do something, anything. And you were in luck, he was merciful today, stepping closer he yanked your panties off. Diving down and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. Way to quickly he’d pulled back, blue eyes locking with yours as you felt a finger gliding down your body, tickling over your nipple for a moment then continuing his journey downwards.

 

 

At last he reached your mound, finger stroking through your pulsing petals. Your breath hitched, letting him know just how needy you really were. Henry’s thumb circled your clit, then his index finger dipped into your dripping centre. You moaned, eyes falling closed as your neglected core began to positively vibrate at the stimulation.

 

 

As soon as the sensation came, it was gone again, making you mewl frustratingly, eyes shooting open again.

 

 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted, “I said eyes on me, didn’t I, darling?”

 

 

He leaned closer, then something hot and heavy slapped your clit, making you tremble and cry out. You tried closing your legs, but he had grabbed one them, easily lifting it up and over his shoulder. Then he whispered into your ear, “You have real difficulty listening to daddy today, hmm?”

 

 

His nails dug into the supple flesh of your other thigh, hooking it over his shoulder as well, “Answer me.”

 

“S-sorry, yes I have difficulty li-listening,” you whimpered, gasping when you felt him nudge against your hole.

 

 

“That’s what I thought. Whatever shall I do with you?” His eyes sparked with mirth, he clearly loved teasing you like that.

 

 

You pouted, “Don’t be mean daddy. Please- please I need you, inside.”

 

 

Henry mocked, cooing, “Aww, is daddy mean to his little darling?”

 

 

Before you could even think of replying, he began pushing inside. Starting to lean his weight onto you, pressing you deeper into the couch cushion with every unbearably, wide inch of his cock sliding into your weeping pussy.

 

 

God he was just so fucking big. Every time was like the first time with him. Stretching you beyond what you thought was possible.

 

 

Your mouth opened, as he drew a deep moan from you. He chuckled though a bit pressed, curly hairline damp with the restrained it took, not to slam inside you completely. Panting, “Tight. Fuck, love. You’re always so tight for me.”

 

 

His nose pressed below your ear, as he grunted at the burning heat enveloping him, clenching around him. Henry worked his cock into you, bit by bit was swallowed by your quivering tightness. Both of you grunting and moaning.

 

 

As he finally bottomed out, it felt like his hot poker, had settled directly beneath your navel, making it hard to breathe normally. Though he noticed right away, switching your positions so quickly, your head swam.

 

 

Henry had sat down on the couch, with you now sitting upright in his lap, straddling his thighs. In the new position it was indeed easier to breath, though you felt just as stuffed as before. Your warm slick began running down, pooling between your legs, as he carefully pushed up into you, somehow slipping even deeper.

 

 

Your hands griped his shoulders, making him pause for a moment, letting both of catch your breath. Your body slowly relaxed, accommodating his length, and more importantly his width.

 

 

“That’s it, taking all of me, darling.”

 

 

Your pussy clenched around him, as he placed his hands onto your hips and began lifting up, retreating. Then without warning, he slammed back inside. Shocking your entire system so much, the loudest mewl broke free from your lips.

 

 

Henry didn’t let up, immediately starting to bounce you up and down on his cock. Attacking your neck, boobs and any other available patch of skin he could reach with his mouth. Sucking, nipping, biting and kissing.

 

 

“Ah-fuck… He-Henry so good.”

 

 

He muttered between his grunts, “Yeah? You feel…-fuck you feel so good darling.”

 

 

Already the pressure inside kept building, as Henry picked up the speed. Core burning deliciously with every thrust upwards, cock pounding into you without abandon.

 

 

His big hands slid down to your ass, shifting his hips he rammed into your special spot, “Ah, ah- gonna- gonna come,” you moaned.

 

 

The pressure inside soaring higher and higher then it tipped over, as Henry brushed that very spot just right.

 

 

Black spots filling your vision, body shaking, cunt twitching violently as you came. Henry groaned, thrusting a final time upwards, before he spilled into you, filling you to the brim with his hot, white semen. “Fu-fuck…”

 

 

You blinked up at him owlishly, completely robbed of your day’s energy. He smiled down on you, gently running a thumb over your cheek, “You alright, down there, love?”

 

 

“Hmm.”

 

 

His chest shook lightly as he chuckled, “Fucked the words right out of you, huh?”

 

 

You snuggled into him, replying truthfully, “You sure did.”

 

 

Henry hugged you closer, amused by your thorough exhaustion, “Hey, are you falling asleep on me?”

 

You grumbled as he shook you gently, “Stop moving, ‘m sleepy…”

 

 

“So you want to stay like this then?” You nodded, ignoring his playful tone, because you really wanted to stay like this.

 

 

“Okay, rest. Love you, my darling.”

 

Before you drifted off, you mumbled back, “Love you, too.”

👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑

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[delfiore]

—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