MAY I PLEASE REQUEST A F!PRINCESS-NOW-TURNED-QUEEN x THATCH FIC PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
Reader is a shy virgin who has smol tiger energy and stresses that she'll be married off to an old fuck when Thatch comes in to save the dayyyy 🩷🩷
I love your writing style, it's heated, it's fluffy, it's romanticccc, I LOVE it!! I love your attention to detail when it comes to the characters interaction <3<3<3
more smut more smut more smut more smut
i hope you like it !!! medieval au is so good to worm about, even though i focused more on the smut hehehe
and tysm for the compliments AAAH *hides*
notes: Thatch x F!Reader ♡ NSFW ♡ medieval au
Your head is spinning from more than just the extravagant party your husband’s family threw for your wedding. The wine, the dancing, the singing and endless chatting and laughter are all ringing in your head, as is the tension now brewing in your marital suite.
That, and the realization that you are officially, finally, married to the man you love. This particular fact of your new life constricts your lungs more than your beautiful corset, and it deafens you to Thatch’s concerned questions.
“Love?” he asks again, coming to stand in front of you and carefully holding your face in his rough palms. “Are you with me?”
You blink and give him your prettiest, most well-trained smile. Thatch sighs and straightens up, his bare chest beautifully highlighted by the firelight.
“I can read you better than that, come on. Tell me what’s wrong… Was it the party? Was it too much?”
“No! No- it- it wasn’t that. I-”
With a deep breath, you meet his eyes again and give him a far more genuine smile.
“I’m struggling to believe all of this is real. I came so close to- to losing you…”
He shushes you and kisses your forehead, then helps you turn around so you’re facing the full length mirror in your bedroom. His warm hands rub up and down your bare arms, soothing and grounding you in the moment.
“We did it, sugar. You see that ring on your finger?” he asks while pulling your hand up, smiling at the glimmering gold. “That means you’re all mine. It’s as official as can be. Nothing your mean old king of a father can do about it. And he’d be a fool to try. No better party than me.”
You chuckle at that and relax back against him.
“I guess you’re right…”
“Of course I’m right. I married you.”
With a snort entirely unbecoming of the queen you now are, you shake your head and swat at your husband who chuckles at your feisty nature.
“I married you, and now…”
Thatch’s voice drops and he releases your hand to grab your waist instead, pulling your hips even closer to his body.
“Now I’m going to make love to you.”
Your face immediately lights up at his words, your cheeks bright red and your eyes wide with bashful embarrassment. But Thatch doesn’t give you time to dwell on your anxieties, already pressing wet kisses down your neck to your shoulders, his hands gliding over the satin of your dress to find the lacing at your back.
His hands pull at the ribbons, releasing the bone-crushing corset and finally allowing you to draw a full breath. Your efforts to give your lungs air are promptly interrupted when Thatch’s fingers dance under the lacing, brushing your skin lightly, carefully…
Your little gasp and sudden twitch surprises the man, who meets your eyes in the mirror with concern on his face. But his concern is short-lived, replaced by curiosity when he sees your blushing cheeks and sparkling eyes.
“Sensitive?” he asks lowly, brushing your back again.
At your squeal, he smirks and hastens to finish undoing your dress.
“Very sensitive,” Thatch continues, mostly to himself. He initially thinks that’s all there is to it, sensitive untouched skin that will react beautifully to his tender caresses, but your reactions quickly tell him there’s something else there. Something more.
Your dress is pulled apart and off your back, and Thatch’s hands glide under the fabric and along your ribs, pulling an uncontrollable giggle from you. His eyes widen slightly.
You’re ticklish.
Thatch experimentally drums his fingers down your sides and you squeal and buck, pulling an amazed chuckle from your husband.
“Well this is adorable.”
“Thatch, wait-”
“Nope. You’re adorable. I want to hear more.”
“Wait, wait!”
Your protests are ignored and your dress is quickly removed, probably torn (you were never going to wear it again but still, you would have liked to keep it for nostalgia’s sake), and your almost naked body is swiftly carried to bed by your very excited husband. His hands are still kneading your sides, reminding you with their strength and dexterity that he is quite the proficient baker.
“Wait, please, this isn’t- I’m not-”
“Not used to it?”
“Of course not-”
“Remember what we promised each other?” he asks you teasingly, gently brushing his nose against yours while he gets comfortable next to you.
“Thatch…”
“My queen… In my arms, by my side, you’re free to enjoy life. I swore I’d make sure you live freely, at least when you’re just with me. And you promised you’d let me.”
You bite your lip hesitantly, your heart beating hard in your chest. Is this really alright? Sure, this is your husband, and you’re in the privacy of your chambers, away from the responsibilities of the land and crown, but… You’ve never let lose before…
A soft kiss and a delicate brush of his fingers down your stomach derails your anxious thoughts.
“Don’t-!”
“I will.”
“You- you would disobey your queen?!”
“You’re not my queen here. Just my wife.”
“I’ll make you respect me all the same-AH!”
You’re pinned down before you can struggle free, and then Thatch finally tickles you properly, skilled fingers digging into your ribs, waist, down your hips and into your stomach. You’re gasping and laughing and squealing, bucking and twisting in Thatch’s hold, but there’s nothing you can do against his strength.
The arrogant bastard is laughing too, very proud of the effect he’s having on you, and seemingly intent on tiring you out before doing anything else. As a princess, you had obviously never been taught anything of bedding matters, and only knew what little your chamber maidens had dared share at your bequest, but you were certain this was not usual.
Still… No matter your protests and struggles, you hope he will never stop. It feels so safe, so warm, so freeing, so… so fun… You can scream and thrash safely here, in this bed, in his arms…
When Thatch finally stops you’re gasping for breath, your skin reddened and glossy with sweat, wild curls falling out of your previously perfect braids, and you’re smiling from ear to ear.
“Still mad at me, your majesty?”
With no breath or bearings to respond, you simply moan softly, head rolling back to face your husband.
“Guess not,” he chuckles. His eyes glide from your face to your bare chest and you notice his previously mischievous eyes darken with lust. Thatch curses softly and drags his hand from your stomach to your breast, reverently cupping it. “You look incredible like this… All tired out and disheveled… Reminds me of our first meeting,” he finishes with a chuckle, leaning down to kiss your throat.
His goatee tickles your skin some more, pulling more helpless gasps from your wet lips as he kisses his way down your body and over the swell of your breasts. Thatch takes your nipple in his mouth just as his hand releases your flesh to travel down your body again, undoing your under garments as quickly as he can. After all his teasing and tickling, your skin is far more sensitive than usual, and despite your breathless state, his ministrations pull noises out of you that are entirely too loud and unbecoming of your station. Proud and eager to hear more, Thatch’s touches grow rougher and harsher, his teeth now worrying your breast as his fingers explore regions even you never dared touch.
When you thrash against him, trying to shake him off, overwhelmed by the sensations assaulting you, your husband pulls away from your reddened nipple and leans over you with a salacious smirk.
“Still wanna wrestle me?”
“I- I order you to stop immediately- ah! This isn’t- nh!”
“Am I hurting you, sugar?” he asks softly, eyes carefully scanning your face.
You swallow thickly but can’t respond. He’s not hurting you at all. But… This is so foreign, so improper… Yet… so good…
It seems your flustered silence and conflicted expression are answers enough for Thatch, who rubs his nose to yours once more and gives you a gentle kiss. His fingers have not stopped their exploration between your thighs, but they slow down as he carefully pushes one inside you.
“You can’t- !” you try again, voice wavering.
“Sure I can. I’m the only one who can.”
With another loving kiss, he pushes his finger deeper inside you, startling you. Your fist meets his shoulder reflexively, your confused body completely unsure how to react.
“You’ve never done this before?” Thatch asks quietly. “Not even by yourself?”
“N-no,” you choke out, scandalized. “Of course not!”
“Hm… Then I’ll have to take it slow, huh? Tire you out some more…”
“Wha-?”
He moves quickly, sitting up between your parted legs to discard your under garments, grinning at you the whole time.
“I promise you’ll like this. Just let it feel good, your majesty. Let me love you.”
Before you can understand what he’s alluding to, Thatch slides down your body, kissing along your stomach until he reaches your pussy, then diving right in despite your frantic orders for him to cease his foolishness. The pleasure that jolts up your spine when his tongue meets your flesh steals your voice and your control of your limbs. You clumsily try to push his head away, but Thatch easily catches your wrists and immobilizes you, trapping you against the mattress.
You’re at his mercy once more, unable to get free as he devours you shamelessly, wet noises filling the room along with your choked gasps and whimpers of his name. His lips and tongue are kissing, sucking, licking, flicking, pinching your sensitive flesh in ways you didn’t know were possible or even conceivable, and you can’t keep your composure under this tender assault. Consumed by feelings you’ve never experienced before, you lose track of time until a terrifying wave of pleasure swells within you, forcing your body to seize and cutting your breath. Your husband’s satisfied groans prolong the frightening height, and your ruined voice rings in the bedroom, startling you.
He pulls back, finally, allowing you to breathe once more, and his wet face is a mask of unabashed pride and… love.
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs in a rough voice, crawling over your body to get as close to you as possible. “You’re absolutely perfect.”
You’re so drunk on whatever he just did to you that you don’t have the presence of mind to protest his kiss, not even when he pushes his tongue in your mouth and tastes you at length, your own fluids still coating his lips.
One of Thatch’s hands leave your hips to untie his breaches and pull them down, then he shifts above you to kick his clothes off before returning to you, now matching your nudity. You jump when you feel something hard and hot and somewhat wet bump against your inner thigh, but Thatch only shushes you softly.
“Easy, love. I got you all wet and relaxed, it won’t hurt a bit. I promise.”
“H-hurt?”
“No, no hurt.”
“Why would it hurt?” you whisper against his lips, concerned.
“It won’t hurt, sugar. You’ll take it so well, I know you will.”
“Take what?”
Thatch smirks and grabs your hand, then brings it down to his stomach, and you squeal and try to pull back when you realize what he’s doing, but he won’t let you.
“Don’t be scared. Touch me… I’m all yours.”
“I- I…”
You instinctively want to protest, to say this isn’t proper but… You’re curious, thrilled even, and if this is the marital duty your chamber maidens described, then it would be rude to deny your husband… Maybe you can allow yourself to indulge your desires…
Thatch smiles when your hand relaxes, and he guides you to wrap your fingers around his cock. You test the weight and size of him in your trembling fingers, your breath stuttered and shy as it blends with his own. He holds you even as he guides himself to your entrance, and kisses you softly as he pushes the blunt head of his cock inside your body.
“See? Nice and easy… I was made for you, honey.”
And he’s right… The stretch is strange and foreign and overpowering, but it’s not painful. Your fingers fail you but Thatch catches your hand as it falls to the bed and holds it tight, grounding you. He murmurs sweet reassurances as he keeps pushing himself inside you, and groans shakily when you reflexively tighten around him.
“All good?” he asks in a strained voice.
You have no idea what to say. He’s the one who knows about these things, clearly. You can’t even tell up from down anymore, not after everything he’s already put you through.
“Need me to stop?”
“No!”
The word flies from your lips as your legs wrap around his, pulling him into you fully, your brusque movement surprising you both. Completely overwhelmed and unable to think of anything beyond Thatch, all you can do is grab onto him tighter as you struggle to take in air. Your husband kisses your neck drunkenly, grunting under his breath as he shifts to get a better hold of you. The first thrust is slow and careful but makes your entire body tremble all the same.
Your chamber maidens’ hushed and bashful descriptions of the act do no justice to the tide swelling in you as Thatch moves over your body, his hops rolling carefully, smoothly. You let yourself get lost in the push and pull of his cock inside you, gasping and whining uncontrollably, your trembling fingers clutching at his back.
“So good,” Thatch groans in your neck, hips stuttering slightly under the effort of keeping his slow pace. “Perfect for me, my perfect wife…”
Not conscious enough to remember propriety and shame, you can’t hold yourself back from whispering a plea for more, more of this pleasure, more of him, more of anything he’s willing to give…
“You like this too?”
You nod absently, then realize what you just said and admitted to, and bite your lips in embarrassment.
“I’m so happy,” your husband says softly, his voice rough and vulnerable. “I’m so happy I can make you feel good, so happy you’re letting me- hn- letting me take care of you, like I promised…”
Your anxious heart stills upon hearing that. Every negative feeling you’re forcing on yourself right now, it all stems from what you were taught… But the man you love, your husband, the one who delivered you from a horrid arranged marriage, he only ever promised and delivered love and freedom and the bright warmth of the sun… Surely… Surely there’s nothing to be ashamed of, not here…
“I-” you stutter quietly, pulling yourself together to respond properly, fighting internal shame and everything you’ve been forced to learn. “I feel- so… so good…”
“Yeah?”
“Y-es…”
“You want more?” Thatch breathes almost desperately, so very eager to heighten your pleasures.
“I want- is there? Is there more?”
“Oh, my treasure…”
He catches your thigh in his hand and moves harder, deeper, adjusting his angle to hit a different spot that has you screaming in surprise.
“There’s so much more… I’ll give you all of it, everything I can… Do you want that?”
“Yes, please… I want- more of you- ah!”
“Everything, sugar. I’ll give you everything. I swear.”
Thatch cradles the back of your head and kisses you deeply, tasting and breathing you in like a man desperate for air, for you… Overcome with the gentle warmth only he can bring to your life, you smile in the kiss and hold him as carefully as he holds you, so eager to welcome all of his love, everything he wants to give you, as is your right and privilege.
You’re free now… Free, safe, loved, and eager to finally embrace the life you never dared dream would be yours.
thank you so much for the request, and thank you for reading !