ask and you shall receive, albeit several months, late. cw for rough and hard kinks
i’ll die on the hill that henry won’t stop touching you.
every second he gets, he’s snaking his fingers under your top to feel the bare skin of your waist
or to grasp your tits, almost as a reminder they’re still there
or, if he’s particularly wound up and you’re wearing something provocative, he’ll slip a hand up your skirt and drag his fingers along your underwear just so that you’re as frustrated as he is.
watches you do everything: shower, get dressed, sleep
the first time henry walked in on you touching yourself he stood in the doorway with his arms folded and didn’t say a word until you came.
doesn’t like scented candles by ANY street of the imagination, but when he stumbles across one that smells like your hair, it comes home with him.
he hides it in the bedroom while it’s burning because he’s a grown ass man, why would he be burning sweetly scented candles?
it’s not until the whole house smells like you that he feels it starting to affect him, the fact that he can’t escape the smell of you, the one that makes him hard as it is.
and the eyefucking is always going to be immense.
even when you’re alone.
if you catch him staring and ask “what?” he’ll just shrug and claim that he “didn’t say anything.”
he’ll go back to his book, try and restrain himself for a few more minutes- then, without looking up from what he’s reading,
“take off your clothes and come and sit on the desk.”
henry. is. perverted. he will spit on you. and he will choke you until your cheeks are rosy and there are tears in your eyes. and he will press down on your bladder to make you squirt while he’s going down on you.
he just fucks so filthy that sometimes it borders on disrespectful because he’s got a whole host of fucked up things he wants to do to you.
and what if i said he’d tie you up and leave you there?
- if you’re both drunk he’ll drag you away and fuck you senseless
- if you’re sober and he’s drunk he’ll lay on your lap running his hands over you and telling you in graphic detail all the things he wants to do to you
- always fucks in at least two different positions
- he doesn’t jack off. just fucks when he needs to. doesn’t matter who.
- blowjob fiend
- only likes improvised bondage. he finds preplanned restraints like handcuffs strange but has no issue tearing his tie off to keep you still
- horny drunk (said louder for the people in the back)
- tits
- always ramming his fingers in your mouth, just to make you gag and tear up
okok im loving ur childhoodfriends!henry, wb smth where reader and henry are arguing at the country house or get into a big fight and it ends in them 'making up' passionately, then the next morning they have to act all innocent when the dining room is destroyed, like plates everywhere etc.
anyway - whatever u feel like i love all ur henry stuff ;)
have a fabulous day, lovely! 🤍🤍
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a/n: i’m afraid i may or may not be so back- i put so much love and time into this and i’m absolutely in love with it, it’s essentially canon to me. i hope you all love it as much as i do. this is my mona lisa i fear
warnings: unprotected sex, minors and my bf dni, angry/rough sex, arguing and indirect violence, kitchen sex, female reader, slight emetophobia warning, mentions of blood but not in a sexual way
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“henry.” you called, storming through your childhood home and ending up in the kitchen. you slammed the french doors shut for privacy, then folded your arms and glared up at henry with a raging fire in your eyes that he had only seen a handful of times before.
“y/n.” he responded, looking up at you from the book he was reading, closing it gently and turning his attention to you.
henry was far too calm for what he was about to endure, and he was aware of that. disarming you had never really worked before, but when you were this angry, it was probably worth a shot.
“i’m giving you the chance to tell me what you’re hiding from me now.” you began, folding your arms and tapping your food expectantly.
henry’s eyes widened involuntarily, because he knew he was caught. he cursed himself for trying to hide anything from you in the first place.
instead of getting on the defensive, which would risk you flying completely off the handle, henry tried to lay it on thick. he leaned back against the wall, folding his arms. “that’s absurd, duchess, i-“
“don’t you ‘duchess’ me, henry, not now. it’s late, and i’m tired, and i’m sick of being lied to.” you leaned back against the kitchen counter as you spoke, glancing at the clock on the wall only to realise it was the middle of the night. “explain.”
“explain what?!” henry laughed in disbelief. he was a good liar, but never when you were involved. you saw right through him.
you groaned, storming across the kitchen and rifling through a drawer, muttering under your breath the whole time. eventually, you pulled out a fistful of papers and shoved the drawer closed, crossing the kitchen again and slapping them down on the side.
to anyone else, henry was just staring blankly at you. but you knew that he was scrambling for something, anything to say that would stop you from starting something that henry knew he couldn’t finish.
“why are you hiding plane tickets from me?!”
“y/n, it’s not as bad as y-”
“and why are there only four?!” you roared, sifting through the tickets and laying them out one by one. you knew the answer to that question, you had figured it out several hours ago when you first found the plane tickets. you just wanted henry to admit it to you.
“don’t raise your voice at me.” henry said, and although his voice grow louder in volume and more stern in tone, henry was as physically calm as he was five minutes prior. “if i thought that it concerned you, i would have told you. but it doesn’t, so i didn’t.”
you nodded, teeth gritted so hard for so long that it began to hurt. you noticed, and ran the tip of your tongue across your gums to check that they weren’t bleeding.
eventually, you knew that you had to say something. you probably could have just stared henry down until he caved and confessed, but that wouldn’t give you the satisfaction that you wanted.
“what does concern me, henry,” you began, taking the anger out of your voice completely. you leaned over the kitchen counter that had the tickets on, glancing down at them as you spoke: “are the fact that these are one way tickets.”
henry sighed, closing his eyes. he knew he was beat, and the cogs in his brain were spinning at lightning speed to come up with something that would stop you from flying off the handle.
he had nothing.
“y/n, i-”
“why are they one way tickets?” you interrupted, your tone growing slightly louder and more sinister as you spoke. you knew the answer to that question. you had figured it out hours ago when you saw the plane tickets for the first time. you just wanted henry to admit it.
when henry didn’t say anything, you were struck with a wave of rage-induced nausea. you stood up straight and turned on your heels, taking two steps away from henry so you didn’t punch him in the face.
there was no point ever trying to argue with you. henry knew that from the off, as well as he knew that keeping secrets from you was just as impossible.
“y/n, i don’t know what you want me to say.” henry sighed, trying to disengage you from the warpath that you were on.
“i want you to tell me why you are leaving without me!” you finally snapped, losing all of your composure in one fell swoop and shouting so loudly that you heard your voice echo off of the stone walls. “what right do you have to leave me here? to take my cousin, and my friends, and to leave me!”
“y/n, stop it.” henry warned you, glancing at the clock to see that it was the early hours of the morning.
“no!” you shouted. “you just want to shake off the guilt of what you did!”
henry said nothing.
“why, because you don’t trust me?” 15 years of knowing me, and you don’t trust me?” you were so frustrated that you didn’t know what to do with yourself, so you ended up lighting a cigarette and not even smoking it, just letting it burn.
henry was still silent, but you could see him gathering strength in an attempt not to lose his temper with you.
“every secret i’ve kept for you since then, and you’re just going to leave me?!”
“everything i’ve done so far has been to protect you, y/n!” henry had finally snapped, and there was no stopping him now. there was only so far you could push him, and you surpassed that line a while ago. “are you really so selfish that you can’t see that?! everything i do is for you!”
“if that was the case, henry, you wouldn’t be leaving me here!” you yelled back, feeling your adrenaline spike and your stomach drop. “you just want me to stay here and clean up the trail that you leave! to watch over bunny, and make sure he doesn’t slip up!”
“duchess, you’re not-”
“don’t fucking duchess me!” you said again, all but screaming it this time, as you picked up the wine glass that you were drinking out of and hurled it across the kitchen. you missed, thankfully, and it shattered on the wall behind henry, leaving a blotchy, red stain. “if you thought about anyone other than yourself, you’d never have done this in the first place!”
“y/n, that’s enough.” henry said sternly, finally gathering his thoughts into something coherent. he realised, though, that this was never a coherent plan to begin with. no plan was ever going to work if it meant leaving you behind.
you took a shuddering, deep breath, and let yourself come down from whatever rush of adrenaline was making you so mad. you caught henry’s eye and your stomach dropped, because he looked as if he was absolutely enraged.
opening your mouth to speak was a futile effort, because as soon as you tried squeaking out some undoubtedly pathetic argument, you were grabbed by the waist and pulled into a kiss so bruising and furious that it knocked the breath out of you.
with one hand tangled in your hair, clutching at your locks, and the other gripping your hip, henry backed you up until you felt your legs hit the back of the table. your knees buckled, and you grabbed the edge of the table for stability as you laid back across it.
eventually, you had to gasp for air. as you did so, however, you also gasped in shock, feeling a hand slip quickly under your dress and yanking your underwear down. you lifted your hips up so that it could come all the way off, and then made a mental note to look for it at some point before the morning.
as soon as your underwear had been pulled off of you, henry pushed your legs apart and stood between them. his mouth left yours and kissed down the side of your jaw. you heard him hissing through his teeth at the cold air, but you had no time to think until henry had pushed himself swiftly and sharply into you.
henry had to take a moment to steady himself. he buried his face in the crook of your neck and pulled both of your hips forward, dragging you to the end of the table so he could push as deeply into you as possible.
you gasped for air again, leaning back into henry’s arms and squeezing your eyes shut. it took a moment for the both of you to adjust, so you stayed dead still, chests heaving. it was almost a sweet enough moment to forget what you had been fighting about.
but not quite.
“you still need to apologise.” you muttered breathlessly, sucking air in through your teeth as henry began to roll his hips into yours.
he buried his face into the crook of your neck, nipping at your skin and shooting back “i am apologising.”
you went to laugh, but ended up gasping a breathy moan when henry promptly bit down on your shoulder. in shock at the sudden shot of pleasurable pain, you attempted to steady yourself and ended up knocking a stack of dirty plates clean off the table.
instead of flinching or chastising you, henry simply hoisted you further back onto the table and began to fuck into you so feverishly that the noise echoed disgustingly off of the stone walls.
you cried out so loudly that you had to slap a hand over your mouth- an attempt to prevent anybody from walking in on something that would haunt them forever.
it was henry’s turn to do the damage this time, placing his hand flat on the table to steady himself and sending a second wine glass toppling over. the glass broke cleanly away from the stem, cracking neatly as if it was already broken.
you glared up at henry, who rolled his eyes and grabbed you by both thighs, gripping the flesh so hard you could pre-emptively feel the fingertip bruises.
the more that henry fussed over you, circling quickly around where you needed it the most, you felt the tension in the pit of your stomach begin to tighten like a rubber band.
you heard henry cursing less and huffing more. every so often he sighed out your name, or called you something filthy in a foreign language, but you could sense now that he was focusing all of his energy on one thing.
you saw the ceiling as you dropped your head back just before you squeezed your eyes shut, cried out an embarrassingly loud string of expletives, and swiftly came undone on the kitchen table of your childhood home.
henry’s hips stuttered forwards as you tightened around him. he bit down harshly on the crook of your neck, groaning quietly and coming swiftly undone inside of you, too overcome with endorphins to make a wise decision.
you needed several moments to catch your breath, but once the endorphins had settled, you remembered exactly what had landed you in such a predicament. your face fell like a crash of thunder, eyes flashing like lightning strikes.
henry’s eyes flicked shut and he sighed, realising that he was very much still in trouble. you slid off of the table and back into your shoes, heels clacking on the floor stiles as you stormed away.
henry started after you with a string of hasty apologies tumbling from his lips, which you promptly ignored and took off up the stairs.
you woke up the next morning when you tried to roll over in bed, but something was preventing from doing so. you blew a tangle of hair out of your face so that you could wrench your tired eyes open, and sighed deeply.
the chirping of birds and the rays of sunlight streaming through the gaps in your hastily closed curtains told you everything you needed to know- you had woken up in bed with henry, again.
as soon as you stepped, barefoot and barefaced, out of your bedroom and into the hallway, you heard a grating, yet familiar voice echoing off of the walls from downstairs.
“what in god’s name has happened in here?!” yelled francis, and it was your turn to close your eyes, sighing heavily as you felt an unmistakable presence behind you.
“we have some explaining to do, i think.” muttered henry, leaning down to speak lowly into your ear.
you scoffed, shaking your head and sauntering off down the stairs. “i’m not explaining anything.”
Hey! If you’re not taking requests or don’t want to write this, ignore this, sorry! But i was wondering if you could write something of the whole group? Henry x fem focused, but possibly having dinner at the twins, drinking and all that with fluff, and Bunny ends up making a snide comment like he did to Camilla?
a/n: i wrote this in an hour, it just came out all in one go and i’m really rather fond of it. the debate’s a paraphrasing of my college literature class’ favourite argument to have. no warnings, just way too much dialogue. 🫀
“i’m here, i’m here.” you said defeatedly, sauntering- late, for an obvious reason- through the open front door with a bottle of wine in each hand and henry in tow. you kissed camilla on each cheek, then set the wine bottles down on the table.
camilla offered a warm, sincere smile, watching as you entered the door with a flair of dramatics and confidence that was so uniquely you. in contrast to his sister, a wry and knowing smirk twisted across charles’ face as his eyes landed on henry.
charles just laughed into his glass, because he wasn’t brave enough to make a joke about the lipstick stain that had rubbed from henry’s neck onto his white collar.
“you’re late.” camilla chimed, unable to suppress the hint of amusement that tugged at her lips. as she continued speaking, she pretended that she didn’t see the fingertip bruises on the side of your neck. “i was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”
“yes, well, i’m here now, and my good mood won’t last long, so you all need to treasure it while you can.” you sat down next to francis and across from bunny. to your left, at the head of the table, was henry.
“how goes it, old man?” bunny asked, louder than he should have, bringing one knee up into his chest and resting his chin on it as he looked expectantly over at henry.
“very well,” henry responded. “yourself?”
you tuned that conversation out, instead subtly tapping in on the hushed whispers that the twins were shooting back and forth at one another. they appeared to be arguing about something, so you left them be.
francis, as always, was in his own world. he went back and forth between conversations, his fiery curls shaking as he twisted his head from one end of the table to the other, as if he were watching a tennis match. you laughed to yourself, and your eyes landed on richard, who was just… there. quiet. but, then again, he always was. this, however, was a different kind of quiet.
after a moment observing richard without his knowledge, you leaned to your right, tilting your head back and angling your lips in front of francis’ ear so that you could still be heard at an almost inaudible whisper. “high. as. a kite.”
“no..” francis whispered back, looking at you in shock as you sat up straight. you nodded, a knowing smirk pulling itself onto your face, along with a look in your eyes that said ‘see for yourself.’
“say, y/n/n-” bunny began, leaning over the table enthusiastically, just excited to talk to you. “you know that fancy house of yours?”
“it’s my mother’s house, bun- but yes, i do- i grew up there.”
bunny paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. you could tell that this was a loaded question from the look in his eyes as he asked it.
“did you ever see anything… strange… when you lived there?”
“for heaven’s sakes, bunny, that’s enough.” camilla interjected, an overly eager condescension in her motherly tone. she only ever tried to mother bunny, not brave enough to try it with anyone else, but he was never clued in enough to realise.
bunny seemed caught off guard by the intensity of camilla’s interjection, raising his eyebrows. “i was only asking a question.” he responded, defending himself.
“bunny thinks the house is haunted.” said francis, who was using an empty wine glass as an ashtray, forgetting that he’d need it again.
you laughed, amused at the ridiculousness of such a notion, but henry’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. that threw you for a loop. you had forgotten henry could be so superstitious, and he tended to get quite worked up about certain supernatural situations.
“what makes you say that?” henry pressed, sitting forward. any other conversations had ended now. bunny loved that, and he bounced around in his seat, ready to tell a spooky story. henry, however, was uninterested about anything else going on around him, insistent on hearing the reasons behind such a claim.
the twins shot each other a look, and then directed it to you. they looked the most similar when they were confused like this. you simply shrugged. this was out of your depth. it was a rare part of henry’s character that he didn’t share with you.
bunny diverged into a long-winded retelling of what he saw, pantomiming impressions of ghostly apparitions that would normally just agitate henry, but he was intrigued. francis, of course, found this very amusing. he shot you a look, a mischievous one, that said ‘play along, i beg you.’ you giggled, tuning back into the conversation
“-and i swear,” said bunny, raising his right hand in the way that children who were raised catholic tended to do. of course, bunny was no catholic, but most everyone else in the room was. it was simply a habit he’d picked up. “there was a woman in one of the rowboats.”
“was she sitting in the boat?” you asked, and when bunny nodded yes, you sighed “oh, that’s just aunt ethel. she means no harm.”
henry went white as a sheet, eyes widening. francis had to turn away, covering his mouth as not to give the joke away. the twins, who were in the kitchen fussing over dinner, stopped what they were doing and looked over at you expectantly.
“aunt ethel.” henry repeated, in shock.
“i told you!” said bunny.
francis, who had managed to compose himself for long enough to join in on the joke, nodded very seriously. “she’s our three-times great aunt, or something to that effect. her body’s at the bottom of the lake.”
bunny, too gullible for his own good, listened intently, clearly believing every bit of what was being said.
“what happened?” he asked.
henry, too shocked to speak, was trying to hide the panic on his face as he looked over to you, eyes scanning your face intently for any signs at all that you may have been making it up. much to his dismay, however, you were a very good liar.
“it’s really quite tragic.” you began, stalling for time as you tried to think of a lie that would be funny, but believable. instead, you shifted the responsibility. “francis tells the story better.”
“bitch.” he mumbled, so only you could hear, then cleared his throat. “yes- ethel- the poor dear. drowned, because her husband, um-”
“phillip...” you interjected, a very serious look on your face.
“yes, phillip, how could i forget..” francis continued, styling a laugh out as a cough. “he drowned, you see, and she tried to save him, but she ended up meeting the same fate.”
bunny nodded solemnly, hanging on every word. the twins were trying to cook and listen at the same time, which resulted in charles putting his hand in boiling water.
henry was studying your face as francis told the story, and the fact that you were trying your hardest not to catch his eye. his face went from one of concern, to one of suspicion, then it fell into one of displeasure.
“they’re making it up.” henry declared matter-of-factly, as soon as he had decided that this was the case. francis couldn’t hold it in for any longer, and he burst into laughter, covering his face with his hands.
you leaned back in your seat, giggling proudly to yourself that you had kept it going for so long. bunny, however, was crushed. he fell back in his seat, sighing dramatically as he did.
“oh, you’re kidding!” he said, frowning. francis, still shaking from laughter, began to laugh even louder still when he caught henry’s eye, who really didn’t look pleased. the twins laughed between themselves at that, and you just shook your head, coming down from your fit of laughter.
“you’re a good liar, y/n.” richard piped up, as soon as the room went quiet enough for him to speak. you jumped out of your skin, eyes snapping up to him as he spoke.
“my god, you scared me.” you said politely. “i forgot you were there.”
“so did i.” said henry, and richard looked a little defeated at that.
camilla, who obviously noticed and felt a bit bad, set about saucepan full of pasta down in the middle of the table, and said “that’s a very useful skill to have.”
“maybe you can teach it to bunny.” francis interjected, dropping his cigarette in the ashtray-glass and exhaling the last of it.
henry laughed silently. his face didn’t change. “that would be nice.”
that was that, and you all ended up eating quietly for a while, until camilla remembered a question she had about an academic article she’d read some time ago. it went to henry, of course, because henry knew everything. it wasn’t ill-intentioned, but it still made your eye twitch.
as per usual, any discussion of anything related to academic opinion led into a heated debate. everyone was talking over each other, and you had broken off into small groups, differing in opinion.
“you can’t be serious.” henry insisted. “you’re claiming, officially, for the record, that you’d rather read the bible cover to cover than anything shakespearean?”
“that’s exactly what i’m saying, yes.” charles argued, and camilla nodded in agreement. “it’s overdone, and it’s dull.”
“and the bible isn’t?!” you and henry both interjected at the same time, in the same tone of voice. you shook your head, ashing your cigarette into the ashtray-glass that was quickly filling up. it was a habit of yours, francis’ too, to chain smoke whilst having a conversation- henry sometimes indulged in that habit when it was a heated debate such as this.
“you can’t understate the cultural impact of biblical references on society as a whole.” francis argued, because he had taken it upon himself to play devil’s advocate. “i mean, shakespeare’s littered with them.”
“but there’s not a single shakespeare that would be worse off without biblical references.” you pointed your cigarette at francis as you spoke, knowing where he was going with his argument.
charles shook his head, refusing to accept defeat, even though he probably should have. “no, i’m sorry, that’s ridiculous-”
“you’re fucking ridiculous, you can’t just-!”
“don’t swear, y/n.”
“be quiet, henry, you’re supposed to be on my side.”
you continued arguing for another hour or so, ending up arguing about something completely unrelated to the initial topic of conversation. during the course of this heated debate, which had become you and henry versus charles, camilla was chiming in occasionally from the kitchen as she washed up, francis and richard had gone on a quest for more cigarettes, and bunny had fallen asleep under the table.
charles was losing momentum with his argument, especially against both you and henry, and eventually, he conceded to you. there was nothing else there for you now that francis had gone and you’d won an argument, so you decided to leave.
as you were putting your coat on, you were chatting absently with camilla about when she was next free to go into town with you. you were just about to open the front door, it swung open in front of you. francis and richard came hurtling in, desperate to spill their thoughts before they forgot.
“henry, y/n, we-!” francis stopped dead right in front of you, not expecting you to be stood there. “we were just walking, and we remembered something- tell them, tell them.” francis insisted, waving his hand for richard to take over.
henry raised an eyebrow, standing still behind you. you did the same.
richard cleared his throat, stepping in the front door so that francis could shut it behind him. “well, you need religion for hamlet to function, you see, because his father spoke to him from-”
“purgatory.” henry interrupted, sighing. his eyes closed briefly as he realised, because he knew it was detail that he had missed.
everybody groaned, just standing there for a moment. this meant the debate wasn’t over, because a whole new can of worms had just been opened. you thought about it, deciding in your head whether you wanted to stay and go through the whole rigmarole again.
you shrugged your coat off and slung it back over the hook you took it from. launching back into full swing, you took the box of cigarettes from francis’ hand, peeling the plastic off of the box with your teeth as you strutted back over to the table.
a/n: i love this so much, i know a lot of people won’t read it because there’s nothing interesting about it, but i think it’s so autumnal and accurate to the henry/francis/reader dynamic i’ve created so pleasee love it as much as i do🫀
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both you and henry alike always seemed to come out of your shell when the weather began to turn. it was a grey, mid-august morning, cold enough to need a jumper; so the two of you were holed up in the library on an oddly specific quest for knowledge which, to anyone unsuspecting, would have looked exactly like a date.
you sat on one side of the table holding a large, red, leather bound hardback, scanning through it by running your finger down the pages. henry was flicking through endless sheets of paper with his tiny, slanted handwriting on, mumbling to himself.
this had started when you got into an argument first thing in the morning over the specific wording of a quote from a greek myth.
“it’s here somewhere.” henry said, not lifting his eyes from the mess of papers. “i remember writing it.”
“just because you wrote it doesn’t mean it’s right.” you shot back, closing the book and thudding it down on the table, only to open another one and continue doing the same.
henry looked up at you in sarcastic disbelief, raising an eyebrow. “yes it does.”
“don’t be such a prick, henry.”
henry glared straight through you. you stared back, challenging his entitlement, and he laughed mockingly, turning his attention back to what he was doing.
just as you opened your mouth to speak, henry’s gaze drifted to whatever was behind you and he sighed, rolling his eyes.
“no arguing before 10am, please.” interjected a voice from behind you, as francis wandered up to the table you were sitting at. it was your favourite corner of the library, because it was out of earshot of any of the other tables.
you leaned back in your chair slightly, holding two fingers out for francis to stick a cigarette in between. you could feel henry staring at you again. you stuck your middle finger up at him- which, for some reason, henry hated with every fiber of his being- and went about lighting your cigarette.
“tell me, then, why are we arguing?” asked francis, and henry’s expression changed to one of ‘if you start this right now, so help me god’.
“because henry’s a prick.”
henry took another drag off of his cigarette. He exhaled, allowing the smoke to drift in the air around him for a moment, before he brushes the ash off of the table and puts it out. “since when?” he replied, bewildered at your sudden labelling of him.
“since the day you were born, henry. keep up.” you snapped your fingers in his face teasingly, and you could have sworn you watched a part of him shrivel up and die. francis snorted, and you had to grit your teeth to keep composed.
henry said nothing, knowing full well that you and francis put together would tease him relentlessly until his lost his temper and gave up.
instead, he stared back at you with all of the subtle anger he could summon, before turning back to the mess of papers.
“y/n insists that the famous sisyphus quote wasn’t in the original tale.” henry explained to francis, flipping a piece of paper over to read the back.
“one must imagine sisyphus happy.” you elaborated, turning towards your cousin as you inhaled a lungful of smoke.
francis looked over at henry, brows furrowing in confusion at whether or not he was genuinely serious about your being wrong. “it’s not.” he said slowly. “it’s camus.”
you held your hand out to francis, because he was now living proof that you were right. “thank you.”
henry slumped back into his chair and rolled his eyes once again. he really should have known better than to ever bet against you. henry, being the sore loser that he was, sulked and pushed all of the pieces of paper around on the table.
“it’s irrelevant anyway.” he mumbled, not looking either of you in the eye.
you laughed, and francis had to take a deep breath and look away to prevent himself from doing the same. henry never took kindly to being wrong. especially not when you and francis were involved, because it only meant he was in for at least a week of ridicule.
“henry, you made me get out of bed and come down here to look it up.”
francis, who was struggling to keep his composure, could no longer hold back his laughter. he spluttered out a garish cackle and slapped a hand over his mouth.
henry gritted his teeth, sinking even further down into his seat and folding his arms to officially indicate that he was, in fact, sulking.
“oh, hen, don’t be so childish.” you mused through a giggle. “it could be worse, you could be studying for a degree in ancient greek. that would really be embarrassing.”
francis nodded, pulling a sarcastic look of concern over his face. “look at it this way, henry, at least you weren’t proven wrong by someone who doesn’t even study it at all.”
you sank your teeth into your bottom lip, pressing your eyes shut and taking a deep breath through your nose.
henry didn’t dare to look at either of you now, because he knew that giving you the satisfaction of seeing his frustration would only make you laugh and encourage you more.
instead he shuffled with his papers, putting them away and mumbling under his breath while you and francis snickered carelessly.
“neither of you are funny.” he spat, still refusing to look at you. “so i’m going home.”
“oh, now don’t be so dramatic, henry.” francis chuckled, lighting a cigarette and handing it to you, then lighting another for himself.
nevertheless, despite your efforts to stifle your giggles so that henry would stay, he skulked off anyway, leaving you with your cousin. so, you got coffee with francis, and stayed for a while, only returning to reconcile with henry when francis left for a class.
“you’ll never guess what i saw on my way back over here.” you called through the house as you clicked henry’s front door shut behind you.
henry emerged from his bedroom while you were hanging up your coat and smoothing down the jumper you were wearing underneath. he was drying his hair with a towel, and his white shirt was a couple of buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows- henry was obviously fresh out of the shower, which was a positively filthy sight.
“i saw-” you began, and then paused to take a long, hard look at henry, scanning his whole body. it almost made you forget what you saw, but it was too good. “i saw richard and that theatre studies girl completely out of their minds. high as kites- it was really quite amusing.”
“on what?” asked henry plainly, looking up at you for a moment as he spoke, but then returning his attention to the desk drawer he was rifling through.
you giggled, letting your hair down from its place in a ponytail on the top of your head. “on cocaine, henry, you really must keep up.”
“and what gave you the impression that they were quite as high as you’re suggesting?” asked henry, putting an almost disgusted emphasis on the word that wasn’t typically in his vocabulary with such a meaning. henry finally looked up from his desk drawer and fixed his gaze on you, his eyes slowly scanning your figure much like your own eyes had with him several moments ago.
“i saw him sniffing lines off of her dash.”
“no you did not, y/n.” henry said quickly, gaze snapping up to you.
there was one thing that was so distinctly human about henry- despite his strangely stoic omniscience, one thing which meant that even he would occasionally come down from his pedestal to the level of a normal person: henry lived for the drama.
no matter what time of day it was, where in the world you were, or what you were presently occupied with; if you turned to henry with ‘something to tell him’, the world stopped until he was fully debriefed.
“honest to god.” you said, instinctively holding up your right hand in the way that children who were raised catholic tended to do. henry’s jaw dropped, and it was so amusing to see that you actually cracked a smile, giggling softly before speaking again. “anyway, i just thought i’d tell you, but i have a lot of reading to do, so i should-”
“stay here, y/n, and do your reading.”
you sighed, shooting henry a pointed look as he sat down at his desk. outside, a barrage of rain had begun to hammer on the windows, and it looked particularly merciless. henry knew what that look meant, so he followed up with “i won’t bother you.”
“you absolutely will bother me.” you shot back, but kicked your shoes off nonetheless, unhooking your glasses from your jumper and sliding them onto your face. you needed them to search for the book you wanted in your bag, and, when you found it, you tucked it under your arm and crossed the room, sitting down on henry’s sofa with your legs crossed underneath you.
moving your hair over on to one shoulder, you found your page and began to read. just as you had found your rhythm and your reading pace began to pick up, henry piped up from over at his desk.
“so, was it a lot of cocaine, or an average amount?”
you groaned under your breath, closing the book on your finger to keep the page as you looked up at henry, who was absolutely shameless in his need for gossip. you raised an eyebrow. “well, what would you class as an average amount of cocaine?”
touché. there was no point in entertaining henry with drug knowledge, because there was no situation in which he’d have any use for it as of that moment, so it would only take up space in his brain. realising he had likely asked a stupid question, he said nothing, and stopped bothering you.
you chuckled dryly to yourself, opening your book again and trying to find where you had left off. you managed to do so fairly quickly, allowing you to get back into the swing of things with little to no trouble.
it was known that henry had the work ethic to sit in silence for hours, so once you achieved peacefulness again, you felt relaxed in the knowledge that you were unlikely to be disrupted. you flew through your reading, actually getting ahead of what was assigned to you, content with your productivity.
“was it her cocaine? the girl’s?”
“damn it, henry!” you snapped, slamming your book shut and looking up again. you were just feeling calm and confident enough to reach an almost tranquil state, and all of your progress had been disrupted again.
“i need to know.” henry insisted, taking a rather pompous stance to avoid the fact that you were growing frustrated with him. “he may not be trustworthy.”
“there are worse things i have done, yet you still trust me.”
“you’re different.”
“how romantic.”
“now you’re bothering me.” henry insisted, making you laugh to yourself, shaking your head. you tried to go back to your reading, but after two consecutive interruptions, your flow was ruined. you didn’t mind, as you had done all that you needed to do, so you set the book down and laid out across the sofa, yawning as your eyes drifted shut.
you woke up in henry’s bed an hour or so later, and after the initial panic and eyes darting around the room, you realised where you were, rolled over onto your stomach, and tried to go back to sleep.
just as you were closing your eyes, you felt the door click open, and could see through your eyelids that light was spilling into the room. you made no effort to move, only groaning in response to the presence that was unmistakably henry’s, as if to say ‘have a good reason for waking me, or i will have a good reason to throttle you.’
you felt weight on the bed next to you, then henry brushing the stray hairs out of your face. you thought that his touch was rather gentle, something henry wasn’t good at, and you wondered why.
henry spoke lowly, looking down at you in your half-asleep state and trying not to disturb you more than he already had.
“francis said he saw them, too.”
“count your days, because i am going to kill you.”
teasing henry during dinner at the country house, everyone there but no one except maybe francis notices, then henry making you pay for it later. <3
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happy august, lovely people. i know i say this a lot, but i fear this may be the best thing i’ve ever written. the french was all translated by my lovely friend @luvinclouds , so you all have our friendship to thank for the utter filth that’s occuring here. this could not be anymore of a superbusmeretrix coded fic, so i hope you love it as much as i do. 🫀
warnings: complete filth, 18+ content, unprotected sex like REALLY unprotected, fingering, choking, slight emetophobia warning, loads of dirty rough sex, henry being a downright fucking freak, and a scarily accurate henry/francis/reader dynamic
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“hush, y/n.” said henry, trying to concentrate on what he was reading. you guessed he was translating it in his head, judging from the tone of voice he took with you.
“don’t speak to me like that.” you replied offhandedly, dumping a huge saucepan full of pasta down on the cast iron table outside the french doors of the kitchen.
henry met your eyes with a stare of new money entitlement, but you daren’t mention it, because you hadn’t the energy for another argument on the matter.
“i really need to concentrate, y/n, and you’re making it quite hard.” henry explained, admittedly making the effort to tell you to fuck off in a more polite way.
“you can concentrate after dinner.” you replied, disappearing off into the house to summon everyone else downstairs.
as much as he wanted to argue or have the last word, henry knew it was futile against you, and instead just huffed. he went back to the book he was reading, muttering a string of curses in various languages.
it was too late to start arguing now, as camilla and richard appeared in the doorway and found their usual seats.
“retire ce que tu as dit, ou je te gifle.” you hissed across the table, before standing up straight and speaking to francis, who had just stumbled out of the doors and onto the patio. take that back, or i’ll slap you.
you stared suspiciously at your cousin when charles followed shortly after him and sat down without a word, even to his sister. henry snorted as a result of holding in his laughter, and francis kicked him under the table. you laughed.
“je m’occuperai de toi plus tard.” henry said to you across the table, knowing that no one else except francis spoke french. i’ll deal with your attitude later.
francis giggled, but you gritted your teeth and sat down without a word. the conversation picked up quickly, and you listened, but didn’t speak, until francis excused himself.
“j’en ai pas fini avec toi.” you told henry as you glared across the table at him. i’m not finished with you yet.
with no hesitation, henry discarded the book that he was holding in one hand and replaced it with a cigarette, lighting it with a match and inhaling deeply. “je te mettrai à genoux devant tout le monde.” don’t make me put you on your knees in front of everyone.
just as francis sat back down, he let out a spluttering cough, sending white wine flying out of his nostrils and all over his pasta. his face went almost as red as his hair, and he had to be thumped on the back. you had to close your eyes and hold your breath to stop yourself from laughing, and henry had to look away completely.
while francis was preoccupying everybody else by making a scene of his coughing fit, and muttering his own incoherent french curses back at you, you leaned across the table and stole the cigarette out of henry’s mouth.
“et me faire faire quoi?” and make me do what?you replied quietly, inhaling a lungful of the cigarette and leaning back in your chair. you feigned genuine confusion, but anyone with basic social skills would know that you were teasing, regardless of whether they understood your words.
henry was more subtle; he pushed his glasses up into his hair and struck another match, holding it to the cigarette between his lips as he spoke to you. “tu sais bien.” you know what. he said, and you laughed to yourself.
“i don’t think i want to know what you’re saying.” camilla giggled, looking up from the pasta she was twirling around her fork.
francis shook his head, staring you down. you stared back with silent threats of death if he divulged any of your words to the others. instead, he shivered dramatically and said “no, you don’t.”
it was henry’s turn to kick francis this time, and francis yelped, gritting his teeth and glaring in a way that made him look so much like you that henry couldn’t help but laugh.
“fuck off.” francis mumbled, sulking. he stole one of henry’s cigarettes as punishment, which started another childish argument that you didn’t care to hear.
“don’t say fuck.” replied henry, quite childishly. “and those are my cigarettes, you always steal them, you never-”
“shut up!” you interrupted, shaking your head, “or so help me god, i will bang your heads together.”
eventually, one by one, people got too cold, too drunk, or too tired, and disappeared back inside. the sun was almost set when you packed in to go upstairs, and just as it dipped beneath the horizon and darkness fell, you heard your door creaking open.
you didn’t bother to look up from the book that you were reading, because you knew it wouldn’t be anyone other than henry disturbing you so late. as soon as the door swung open, it clicked shut again. as henry stepped out of the shadow and into the light from your bedside lamp, you closed your book and rolled onto your back.
“what could you possibly want from me at this time of night?”
“tu sais bien.” replied henry. you know what.
instinctively, you made yourself comfortable on the bed and laid down flat. henry slotted in on top of you and slid his hands sneakily up your shirt. they were cold, so you shivered.
you allowed yourself to smile, a fleeting moment of vulnerability as henry buried his face in your neck, nipping at the skin. his right hand came out from under your top and slid down your stomach, pausing only to wriggle underneath your underwear and rub circles against the already painful bundle of nerves.
you sucked a gasp of air through gritted teeth, gripping henry’s bicep with all of the strength you had. you swore under your breath, prompting henry to look down at you with a warning stare. you bit down on your bottom lip, fighting a giggle.
you rocked your hips up impatiently against henry’s fingers and it was his turn to laugh, which he did lowly, almost mocking you. suddenly both of his hands were gripping at your thighs and he was pulling you towards him, leaning down to kiss you, softly at first, and then deeper, harder, and more desperate as he tore off his clothes.
when he pushed into you, you cried out, so henry promptly shoved two fingers down your throat. you gagged, and your eyes filled up with tears, but it worked to shut you up. as henry began to fuck faster into you, you heard his breaths quicken, and you could tell he wanted to say something filthy to you. you decided to find out what.
you hummed around henry’s fingers and he took them out of your mouth, grabbing your face instead and making it wet with your own saliva.
“henry-” you whined, trying to make him snap at you.
“shut up, y/n, or i’ll leave you here and make you get yourself off.”
“you wouldn’t.” you pushed, knowing just how cocky and annoying you were being; on purpose, of course.
henry raised an eyebrow at you, almost stunned that you were really giving him such an attitude given the situation. he trailed his hand downwards and wrapped it around your throat, squeezing it gently as he pushed deeper into you.
you could hear henry trying his hardest not to show weakness and moan in your ear, so you bucked your hips up against him and tightened your core just as he fucked all the way into you. it worked, and his eyes fluttered shut as he let out a low, almost inaudible groan.
“stop it, or-”
“or what?” you interrupted, propping yourself up on your elbows to be closer to henry’s face. “you’re going to come inside me?”
henry glared down at you, eyes flicking down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. “yes.” he said sarcastically, only really half-joking.
although, when henry took one of your legs and hooked it over his shoulder so that he could lean back and start really pounding into you, you were almost convincing yourself that you’d have to smoke a few extra cigarettes tomorrow as a precaution.
you flopped flat onto the bed and moaned, letting henry toss you around like a ragdoll for a few minutes. when his left hand reached up to hold your face again, and the right one went straight to where you needed it the most, your back arched slightly off of the bed and you knew what was coming.
henry let a few foreign expletives slip, calling you something filthy, no doubt, in greek. he grabbed your calf and bent the leg that was on his shoulder, so that he could lean down and fuck into you at a pace that should be illegal, really.
unintentionally, you stiffened up and clenched the right muscles again, which made henry swear, in english this time, as he dropped his head onto your shoulder and, true to his word, came swiftly inside you. his hips stuttered and he bit down on your shoulder just as you shuddered out an orgasm that made it painful to keep going.
“and what was that performance in aid of?” you asked, taking henry’s face in your hands and scanning his face for the rare moment of vulnerability that you knew was coming.
henry smirked, tilting your chin up with his finger. “tu sais bien.” you know what.
imagine if richard took stories from the rest of the greek class and put them into his retelling of the story, as little forewords or prologues before he tells the story from his point of view, and then imagine what francis’ would have been:
i was so irritated with my life when i was young. i was convinced i couldn’t win. henry would whine to no end that i was neurotic, i couldn’t control my stress, i smoked too much and i drank even more.
“get a grip, francis.” he’d tell me, and i’d roll my eyes, but i always ended up doing as he told me. of course, he wasn’t wrong. henry was never wrong, but i can’t help but wonder if he realised why i was always such a mess.
i’m a murderer. on two separate occasions, i was made a murderer by the hand of a man who has always been the closest thing i’ve had to a best friend. the first was partly my doing, because i was curious to see what would happen if we all wore bedsheets as clothes and went mad in the woods. who wouldn’t be?
i don’t remember a second of it, apart from throwing my guts up laying next to the lake outside my aunt’s house. she’s never there. all i can remember is a feeling of guilt so overwhelmingly strong that it wrenches my gut even now.
the second time henry made me a murderer, he had everything planned to the second, as was henry’s way. i never hated bunny, not really. henry didn’t either. something just clicked in his head one day, and that was it.
“bunny has to die.” said henry. i didn’t argue, didn’t tell him he was mad, because i believed him. henry had said it, so it was fact.
i remember drips and drabs of that. it used to play over and over in my head, crystal clear, whenever i would close my eyes. now i can’t even piece together my scattered memories in the right order. i remember him falling. it felt like days he was falling for. i remember henry turning around, shoving his hands in his pockets as if he’d just thrown something in the trash. blindly, i followed him. i just walked away, doing everything i could not to look down.
that was it. i went back to drinking, smoking, reading marcus aurelius and fucking charles macaulay whenever he turned up on my doorstep. forgetting’s a lot easier when you’re distracted, he used to say. there was truth in that, i knew for certain.
i’d never have admitted it to his face if i ever saw him again, but i lost a part of myself when henry died. my god, i’d never felt so alone. i didn’t know what to do with myself, because i’d spent my whole life following him. he knew everything: he had a solution to all of my problems; he had an answer for every question i asked him; and he had every moment of my life planned out for me. all i had to do was be complacent, and i was. i was more than complacent- i was happy.
i did see him, don’t get me wrong. i saw him every time i did something he’d have scolded me for. the last time, i had drunk enough alcohol that i passed out and smacked my head on the bathroom floor.
“you’ve lost your touch.” said henry, as i woke up. he was stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, like he always used to when he’d find me on the floor in college.
“yes, well-” i replied, heaving myself up into a sitting position. “college was a long time ago.”
henry shook his head, assessing the state of me. i think he must have assumed that i’d done it to see him. the irritating part? he wasn’t entirely wrong. henry was never wrong, and he knew it.
“get up, then, so i can leave you be.”
that angered me. the fact that henry would appear, after years of being dead, gone, so that he could chastise me and then go again. “do you just pick and choose when you appear?”
“no.” said henry. “you do.”
i wanted to hate whatever version of henry this was. it was so like him, though, and so vivid that he often had me questioning whether he was really dead. if anyone was determined enough to come back from the dead, it would be henry. if it wasn’t just my madness; and it was at all possible for henry to manifest himself in front of me, he’d jump at the chance just to tell me off.
