The Hunchback of Notre Dame little_elfieJune 21 2011, 23:15:31 UTC
Fandom: The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Pairing: Frollo/Esmeralda of course!
Prompt: What would have happened if Phoebus hadn't followed Esmeralda into Notre Dame after the Festival of Fools? Following the infamous 'hair sniffing' scene Frollo manages to drag Esmeralda off into the depths of the cathedral, away from the prying eyes of Quasimodo and the Archdeacon. She fights him at first but soon begins to succumb to his attentions, resulting in dub-con/hatesex somewhere in the shadows...
Bonus points if...Frollo flaunts his conquest of the gypsy girl to an amazed/envious Phoebus afterwards...and Quasimodo finds Esmeralda up in the belltower, breathless, dishevelled and grinning from ear to ear.
Your Hands Around My Neck {2/3}afterandalasiaJuly 16 2011, 17:19:35 UTC
There is no reply for that. He draws back, letting her away, only to push her up against the wall again. The way that the breath is forced from her lungs and her head thrown back burns through him; he goes back to her, cupping her jaw to hold her mouth still. One of her legs raises, bare foot scraping along his leg, and then he hooks one hand beneath her thigh to hitch it up around his waist. The movements are animal, instinctual; he is sure that only a demon such as her could draw such motions from him. Esmerelda groans as he kisses the upturned line of her throat, licks and nips at her skin, his hand forcing itself up the toned, soft lines of her thighs beneath her skirt.
For succumbing, he thinks, it makes me a man. But he cannot speak whilst he is sucking on her neck, and she does not seem to care anyway as he slips his hand further and further up her thighs, already parted for him, the musky warmth between slick beneath his fingers. He bites her skin at the same time as he sinks two fingers into her, and he is not sure which it
( ... )
Your Hands Around My Neck {3/3}afterandalasiaJuly 16 2011, 17:20:22 UTC
He tugs his robe up, then her skirt, bundling the fabric aside to expose the curves of her ass, her thighs. She groans as he enters her, fingers spreading her entrance to read it for his prick, and he guesses that the anticipation ached in her cunt as much as in his cock. The gypsy braces herself against the wall, hands flat, as he fucks her from behind, gasps and muffled grunts leaving his lips. His hands creep round to squeeze her breasts again, reaching beneath the loose fabric of her top to pinch and twist at her hardnened nipples, feeling the weight of her flesh fill his palms
( ... )
Re: Your Hands Around My Neck {3/3}little_elfieJuly 16 2011, 22:37:27 UTC
Thank you so much for this! I've been waiting for someone to fill this for ages - and I just hoped it would be you! Brilliant fill, loved every word of it! :D
Re: Your Hands Around My Neck {3/3}afterandalasiaJuly 16 2011, 22:57:17 UTC
There is not enough Fresme, like, in the world. I was waiting to see if someone else would fill it as well, but hey, if you want it then sometimes you have to write it! XD I'm glad that you liked it!
Re: Your Hands Around My Neck {3/3}little_elfieMay 7 2018, 17:52:02 UTC
Just wanted to say that I really miss your Fresme writing. Such a hot pairing, and you definitely do it justice. Are you planning to write more of it? I don’t want to put pressure on you, of course, but I’m hoping for more.
Pairing: Frollo/Esmeralda of course!
Prompt: What would have happened if Phoebus hadn't followed Esmeralda into Notre Dame after the Festival of Fools? Following the infamous 'hair sniffing' scene Frollo manages to drag Esmeralda off into the depths of the cathedral, away from the prying eyes of Quasimodo and the Archdeacon. She fights him at first but soon begins to succumb to his attentions, resulting in dub-con/hatesex somewhere in the shadows...
Bonus points if...Frollo flaunts his conquest of the gypsy girl to an amazed/envious Phoebus afterwards...and Quasimodo finds Esmeralda up in the belltower, breathless, dishevelled and grinning from ear to ear.
:D
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"What are you doing?" she sneers, tossing her head. He pulls away slightly, but twists harder on her arm. It makes her grunt ( ... )
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For succumbing, he thinks, it makes me a man. But he cannot speak whilst he is sucking on her neck, and she does not seem to care anyway as he slips his hand further and further up her thighs, already parted for him, the musky warmth between slick beneath his fingers. He bites her skin at the same time as he sinks two fingers into her, and he is not sure which it ( ... )
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