Hamilton X Reader

King George X Reader

Frick, you guys got me into writing lemons :)

Dresses.

    You loved dresses. The way they hugged your figure, the way they pushed out your racks, and how in general they were beautiful to look at (the dress not your racks).

    Tonight the King was holding a royal ball to look for a wife, and your mum had decided for you that you would go.

    The dress was lazuli and the tool was soft and flowy (is that a word?). Underneath it sported white lace. The corset seemed to squeeze the life out of you, and your top was cut considerably low.

    A gasp filled the room. "Oh Y/N! You look stunning!" Her eyes filled with glee as she watched her dazzling daughter twirl in her dress.

~time skip to the ball be cuz I'm lazy, and nothing happens in the carriage ride over~

Who knew a ball could be so dull. All that was happening was old perverted men looking for a quick hit it and quit it. You hid in the corner of the ball with all the other young ladies no one bothered to dance with.

The music was remarkably loud. It echoed all throughout the ball. You started swaying your hips to the music, that is until some guy ran into you.

    "What were your dancing, lard arse" You clutched at your dress and murmured

    "Why don't you watch where you're going instead."

He couldn't hear you since he somehow already (in the five seconds he left) found a girl to sexually harass.

You felt a doughy (it is okay!?)  hand land on your shoulder. You expected it to be another rude man, but it wasn't.

It was King George the Third.

"Are you okay, Miss?" It seemed as if your tongue has been glued to the roof of your mouth, seeing as you couldn't say anything.

"Would you like to dance?" You shakily take his hand and nod.

You two waltzed around the room, making the entire ball envy you.

His blue eyes stood out against his creme cape (???????). He had curly cinnamon colored hair, and the palest complexion you'd ever seen before.

After your waltz, you bowed and said your fairwells, well you did, but not King George.

You see, he finally made a decision on which women he wanted to be his wife.

You.

Yes he barely knew you, and heck he didn't even know your name, but he felt something special. He felt a feeling he has with you that he did with no one else.

It was like, when you have a tickle in the back of your throat, but a million times worse.

He pulled you to the front of the ball and boomed in his powerful voice

"THIS WOMAN AND I SHALL BE WED IN A WEEKS TIME!"

Wow. That was pretty blunt.

I mean like, you just met and everything, and now the King wants to marry you?

You lucky mother fricker.

~skip to a weeks time, beware for slight lemon/lemon~

You and George lay in his bedroom, and holy crap was it amazing.

Soft and fluffy purple blankets were tossed over the bed, and a bajillion goose feather
pillows had been placed at the head of the bed.

You and the King had gotten to know each other over the past week.

He was ambitious, brave, and pretty dang smart.

Although he seemed a bit....psycho.

He was obsessive over the people you hung out with, the places you went, even the clothes you wore.

But besides that, he was caring, kind, and passionate (bout you.).

"So Y/N......" he said in a sing songy voice.

"Whatcha wanna do?" You lay on the bed and engulf yourself in blankets.

"Well....it's after our wedding, and...." he caught on.

"Jesus Christ, this will be fun!"

DA DA DA- oh wait wrong thing.

He strip of his clothes sat submissively on the bed.

You sweat.

You thought HE was going to be the dominant one.

Wow, again.

~Your Point of View~

  I straddle George and trail my hands down his body.

He was kinda chubby and squishy (in my mind okay not saying Groff is chubby but in this story he is).

I place gentle kisses down his body, until I get to his special friend.

He was of average size.

Seven or maybe eight inches (I'm sorry I'm a sinner).

I placed kisses along the tip.

Then, out of nowhere, take it all in.

His moan practically shaked the bed.

I shoved it all in until I was gagging (I'm so bad at lemons).

He clawed at your hair, yanking and tugging on it every time you slammed down.

I fondle his ball sack in my hands, giving them a good squeeze every now and then.

"Y/N, go faster..." he panted before screaming out "PLEASE"

I scrape my teeth and go as fast as a human possibly can.

He blew his load.

When I disconnected from his friend, I  had drool and the stuff (sorry the c word makes me uncomfortable) connecting me and the tip.

He pulled you close to his body, letting me take a rest.

"Okay sweetheart....now..... it's my turn."

Oh boy, was it an eventful night.

I'm screeching why must I be sucH A SINNER

Save me please