It is the Victorian era, to be exact 1840. You were dressed appropriately. Your hair was made and you were ready to meet the man of your dreams.
As you stepped into the ballroom, all eyes were on you and your outstanding smile. Before you could take another step, you were surrounded by a lot of noble men and their mothers.
As you kindly declined their offer to dance with them, you felt a strong presence staring at you. 'I hope it is the prince,' you thought to yourself.
You turned your head slightly to your right. You couldn't look away. You weren't allowed to. Because if you did, she'd win.
Your rival, who also was surrounded by men, held your gaze. You were conflicted. Because images of you and her, doing unspeakable things popped up. You were ashamed of what you had done last night.
Masturbating, while imagining her hands all over you. Feeling your breasts. Her hand between your thighs. You remember it vividly as if it really happened, which made it even harder to hold her gaze.
Eventually, you decided to look away and continue declining offers to dance. Your breath heavy, your chest rising and falling, you decided to step outside to cool off. And to hide your reddened cheeks.
"The lady is v'ry mesm'rizing," h/n exclaimed quietly, still looking at y/n rushing outside.
"May I?," some noble man asked h/n.
"It would be my pleasure."
H/n now was dancing with the man, thinking how to make y/n hers.
YOU ARE READING
WLW OneShots
Romance~"Getting fucked by the hand that killed your ex?" ~"Even if you fuck every single woman you come across..." she leans in closer to my ear, "you'll still crave me." ~"Look at you creating a mess. So beautiful." ~"Take it off." I gulp. "All of it?" "...
