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punk-in-docs · 2 years

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-EDDIE MASTERLIST-

🕷Super Freak Series🕷

🕸 Your Web, I’m Caught (the 1st) 🕸

Summary: The one where you’re miserable and drinking on your own at a party. And you run into maybe the last person you’d have expected on the outskirts. 7.6k words.

🕸 Is It My Body (the 2nd) 🕸

Summary: The one where Eddie gives you a ride home after your friend ditched you at a terrible party. 6.9k words.

🕸 Power of Suggestion (the 3rd) 🕸

Summary: You see Eddie at school after he gave you a lift home the other night. There’s definitely something you need to resolve. It’s mind over matter and there’s something you’re both after. 5.3k words.

🕸 Head Over Heels (the 4th) 🕸

Summary: Eddie visits you at the record store where you work. You end up making out in the storage room. 7.6k words.

🕸 Was it Love or Nicotine? (The 5th) 🕸

Summary: Eddie can’t seem to see you at school. He thinks you’re avoiding him til he finds out you’re sick. And he climbs in your window one night to bring you a can of soup. 12k words.

🕸Wolf Men & Secret Heists (the 6th)🕸

Summary: You and Eddie enjoy a rendezvous in a storage closet at school. Some inevitably dirty stuff happens. 9.2k words (smut)

🕸 Don’t need telling twice (the 7th)🕸

Summary: You go over to Eddie’s for a Movie Night date. And apparently, you’re both terrible at keeping quiet about what you want. 10.4k words. (No smut just sheer fluff)

🕸️ Vanilla Tobacco (the 8th) 🕸️

Summary: Eddie collects you for your ice cream/arcade date, he also gets to meet your mom. 10.9k words

🕸️Star Studded Gazes & Metal Men (the 9th) 🕸️

Summary: Your date goes very well- maybe a little to well under the stars at skull rock. 10.5k words (smut!)

🕸️ Girlfriend is Better (The 10th) 🕸️

Summary: You and Eddie face an unseen obstacle, which you manage to overcome with some hard cold vengeance. and then you hit him with an interesting offer... 10.k words (angst/tw violcence past assault)

🕸️ Can’t leave you in the wrong hands, baby (The 11th) 🕸️ OUT NOW!!!!

Summary: You and Eddie take the definitive step towards boyfriend and girlfriend. An empty house and a evening alone yields to a perfect evening of a first time, and much much more (11.2k words, so much SMUTTT)

-Drabbles/One Shots-

🕷Green is the Colour 🕷 - Eddie x Pencils Drabble - 6.6k words

Summary: Eddie being jealous that everyone in Hawkins is apparently getting a slice of Pencils after they start dating. (Jealous!Eddie themes) ends with fluff.

🚬 Messy Eddie Headcanons🚬

🎼🎙 Eddie working in the record store with Sal Headcanons = a.k.a sheer Chaos 🎙🎼

🔥NSFW Eddie Headcanons🔥

🎃 Trick? Or Treat? 🎃

Summary: Eddie’s friends are having trouble believing you’re really dating. They require a little proof- 3k. Funky little drabble really.

🍁 Love is kinda crazy with a spooky little boy like you 🍁

Summary: you celebrate your two year anniversary with Eddie at the place where it all began- At the Hawkins Fall carnival.

🍂 Halloween Headcanon’s for Eddie 🍂

Summary: Pretty much what it says on the tin. Halloween Headcanons with Eddie.

❤️ My Funny Valentine ❤️

Summary: A requested ask/drabble- Valentines Day- and suddenly you have a not so secret admirer.

❤️‍🔥 Drawing Mr. Munson ❤️‍🔥

Short drabble: what would drawing Eddie be like? In a nutshell, a challenge.

🩸VAMPIRE!EDDIE🩸One shot; 10k words- also on AO3 if you fancy-

🩸Love like Blood🩸

Summary; !! Dark fic !! Vamp!Eddie x Reader. 10k words. He fully believes hell has opened its snake jaw and devoured him whole- cause this is, just, unbelievable.

Okay, maybe he hasn’t been swallowed into hell.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s that hell has chewed him up, and spat him back out.

He tried to stand and is amazed when he can. Bearing his own weight again. Stood tall. Slowly creaking and cracking to life.

Life? Or Death?

Other Characters

Detective (Murderer) Quinn

- Tainted Love, Part I

Summary: Inspired entirely by this post which I glimpsed via @ravensfromvalhalla from @ceriseheaven. As in the gif, what if Detective Quinn was actually a crazy psycho killer. Set in the 1980’s LA. Det Quinn x Reader.

‼️You don’t know I’m no good ‼️ Part II

Summary: Danger is far closer than you realise ‼️ TW: dark vibes, murder, death, violence, stalking ‼️ 3.6k words.

‼️Hungry like the wolf‼️ Part III

Summary: Quinn gets up close and personal. But he has an ulterior motive of course. ‼️TW dark vibes, knife violence and threatening ‼️ 4.1k words.

‼️ Like a fist. Like a Knife ‼️ Part IIII

Summary: Birdie is on the case - Quinn is onto her. The plot thickens- Slutty chaos ensues.

‼️ Hit me like a bad trip‼️ Part V

Summary: Some questions lead Birdie to the wrong side of town, good thing she’s got someone watching her back. Whether she wants them or not- turns out to be a good thing. Knights in shiny red Porsches. 7.2k words.

‼️ Girl in trouble (is a temporary thing) ‼️ Part VI

Summary: Birdie patches a bloodied Quinn up at her place. There’s nakedness, too much Bourbon, and a whole lot of smut involved. 9.9k words.

‼️ Have a horny little XXXmas - Det Quinn x Birdie festive one shot ‼️

‼️ NSFW ALPHABET ‼️ - For Detective Quinn - so much smut and filth

‼️ Hold the Bourbon‼️ Detective Quinn x Reader, Drabble.

Summary: Drabble from an ask, Detective Quinn laughing during sex - with an edge. ‼️TW ‼️Pure filth. Much smut.

‼️ Det Quinn Ask Drabble ‼️

Drabble/ask about Detective Quinn making you squirt

‼️Det Quinn Ask Drabble‼️ (so filthy)

Detective Quinn and how he would utterly devour you at all times (TW very filthy ask I LOVE IT)

‼️ Tied Up Too Tight‼️

Detective Quinn x Birdies first date? Sort of. Quick hint: Porsche hood, nasty sex and handcuffs. ‼️TW ‼️lots of filth oh lord. Seriously.

🔪❤️‍🩹 better watch out babes-

🥀 Pick Your Poison 🥀Prince Paul x Reader || Part I, 9.2k words

Summary: You have Mother Russia melted deep into the marrow of your bones, and you’re not afraid to grit your teeth and have a scrappy fight. Draw out a little of that pumping hot slavic blood you’re so proud of.

“Charmed.” You smile at him with your perfectly rouged lips. You sneer him like a viper. Like you’re another one of the delicious black widows formed from these courtly, poison-skated walls.

He stalks off and Minister Panin bows to you all. Scurries along after him like a puppy.

Catherine isn’t displeased or discouraged by her sons frosty behaviour. She was expecting it.

You watch him stride away. Sip your champagne and drag your eyes over his back. He must store such tension in those reedy shoulders. Keeps it stored under that ridiculous wig maybe.

All of Russia is owed to him by birth and he’s kept a hairs breadth from clutching it.

🥀 Keep watch over the door of my lips 🥀 Prince Paul x Reader, Drabble.

Summary: Newlyweds, noble jealousy, and vicious court gossip. They seldom mix. 1.7k words. (Only a dash of smut)

🥀 Necessary Evils 🥀 Prince Paul x Reader, Drabble.

Summary: Short drabble: Prince Paul + Tsarevna + Pregnancy sex = F I L T H

🥀 The Matter of a Good Taste 🥀

Summary: Short drabble: Prince Paul + Tsarevna + some let me make you feel better oral sex. (Filthy but sweet married filth)

🥀 And the stars sighed in unison 🥀

Summary: Short drabble: Prince Paul + Tsarevna + some pre-wedding sex and general naughtiness. (Fiancé filth)

🥀 Blessed be the bitter fruit 🥀 Prince Paul x Reader || Part II, 7.8k Words

Summary: Your marriage to Prince Paul and all the intimacy that follows, being love drunk newlyweds. (So much porn ok)

🥀Qualities of Mercy🥀

Summary: Prince Paul x Tsarevna Drabble inspired by the prompt: “If you want to come, you better beg.”

🥀 Traps with Baited Jaws 🥀 Prince Paul x Reader || Part III, 14.8k words,

Summary: There’s a snake in the palace garden. Blood spattered on Catherine’s pet rosebushes. Reader learns that Ruling all of Russia comes at a gutting price- (TW so much subby!Paul smut, violence, mentions of gore/death)

🍾 Ralph x Reader 🍾 short drabble/anon ask

Set in the 1920’s. Meeting Ralph at a wild party

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stardancerluv · 6 months

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By the Light of the Silvery Moon

Part Six: New developments for Paul and his wife.

Notes/Warning: Sometimes one gets sent away early into their marriages. One does not refuse their queen…even her son.

18+ only please. Consensual. P in V sex.

Once again…ty so much for reading. ❤️s and reblogs are very appreciated. Along with any comments/feedback! Enjoy!

“Mother, there is no valid reason for me to go and see the Crimea.”

“You are the future king of Russia you need to visit your army.”

“I never did before.”

“Well, you are now married. The role has grown bigger.”

His fingers rolled into a fist and then relaxed before he did it again.”But my wife.”

Catherine made an exaggerated sound. “She will be fine without you.”

His mouth formed a line.

“She has her ladies and there is also the ones in court. She will be fine.”

“What if I don’t go?”

“I will make you.”

She looked up from the map that she had been hovering over. Her eyes were colder then the winter that would soon be upon them.

“When is my coach ready?” Defeat filled him. His mother won this round.

“Dawn.” She replied once again, she eyed the map.

He turned on his heal and left the room.

*******

The sun’s warmth fell over you, as you worked on a handkerchief. There was more you wished to do or to attend to, but with the possibility of Paul leaving; this distracted you. Your personal handmaiden’s words did not bring any reassurance.

The ladies of the court, had sly smiles splashed across their faces. Despite Paul, not paying them any mind. Some still hoped to garner him with their charms.

There was barely a sound, but you could tell that the huge doors near you opened. You glanced up. Relief filled you. Your heart began to pick up speed. It was Paul.

His hand cut through the air. The patter of boots and the swish of skirts filled their otherwise silent room. With a warmth only your handmaiden was possible to have, she closed the door.

Placing the needle, the cloth and thread aside and you got up. You barely took a few steps and you were in Paul’s arms. Despite your heart at quite the beat, your body relaxed.

“I have to go.” His breath felt warm on your throat.

You stiffened and felt as his hold tightened.

“I tried to refuse.”

“She’d never let you.”

He nodded. “Though I had to try.”

You pulled back enough, just enough to meet his eyes. There was hardly any of the warm brown. They had grown dark with his turbulent emotions over leaving.

“I will dispatch messengers with letters.” You promised

“They will return with my own letters.” He replied with his own, stepping aside he pulled off his waist coat, he tossed it onto a nearby chair.

“At least we have tonight. It will be a very lonely, few months.“

You knew it would be. But the knots in your stomach were still there and they hurt.

*******

As Paul moved above you, you tried to hold onto the moment. It hurt your heart to know you didn’t know when you would see your husband, your beloved again.

“I love you.” Paul, managed. His voice was tight with his pleasure.

His eyes met yours and just as your bodies were one, his lips met yours and the kisses you shared were rough, hungry.

“I love you.” You breathed, arching against him before kissing him again.

Your body tightened, your pleasure was growing sharper. Your moans grew louder.

“Sounds like you are growing close love, give yourself up to it. I want to feel you.”

“Yes, oh Paul!” You were breathless and you erupted in your pleasure. His name became a moan as you became undone.

Trembling you wrapped your arms around him. You held him close as he thrust into you chasing his own release.

Your sounds caused his own release to rip through from him. As your hearts beat hard, you melted in the afterglow of your passion.

*******

He held you close, his fingertips caressing your naked hip. “I don’t know how long I will be gone.” He finally said, resting his chin gently on the top of your head.

“I know. Alot of anguish will fill my heart till we can be together again.” You swallowed. “Is there no way you can have a coach come to retrieve me?” You glanced back at.

“No, he said softly. There have been several violent engagements along that border. I could not bare the idea of you being hurt or worse.”

You tightened your arm around his middle. Desperately, you didn’t want to let him go.

******

Be pressed a kiss to your bare knuckles as he held your hand through the open window of the carriage. Your eyes had filled with tears but you were not let them fall in front of Catherine or the court.

“I will think of you each day till we are together again.”

“And I shall as well.” You nodded.

He gave your hand a final squeeze, then glanced down. “Keep her safe boys.” He said softly to Soot and Cinder who sat proudly on either side of you. Grimacing, he tapped the roof of the coach and sat back into it. The coach man called out and you stepped back.

You waited till his coach passed the gates. Then turning with the hounds close on your heels you made quick haste back to your chambers.

******

Sitting at your vanity you finally let the tears come. With a shaky hand you pulled the pins from your hair. You would not leave your chambers today. A day for your heart was needed.

Looking down at your brush that sat on your vanity, you found a note scrawled sitting beside it. Your heart lifted. Your lips curved into a smile, making the tears pause as you read Paul’s sweet words of love.

******

A week later, when you found yourself lonely in court you had the letter tucked into your bodice and you didn’t feel so terribly alone. The other girls who vied for Paul’s affection or to catch Catherine’s eye giggled behind gloved hands and fans in one corner while you stood, occasionally glancing out the grand windows with your heart warmed by the sweet words Paul left you in that note.

*****

His lips were wrinkled in disgust as he stalked through the muddy ground. His men were in different to his presence. They barely took mind of him when he walked past them. It had been a very long week since the two of you said good bye. He was eager to return to you.

@amethyst-serenade @laura-naruto-fan1998

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfic #prince paul #prince paul fanfiction #prince paul fanfic #prince paul fluff #prince paul smut #prince paul angst #prince paul x reader #prince paul x you #prince paul x y/n #catherine the great #catherine the great fanfiction #joe quinn fanfic

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usedtobecooler · 1 year

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a crying shame | prince paul x fem!reader

Pairing | Prince Paul x Fem!Reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), DUBCON, power dynamics (royalty and the help), coercion, general nastiness, use of derogatory classist terms, unprotected piv sex, fingering f receiving, hair pulling, dirty talk, pussy/clit slapping, spanking, orgasm denial, breeding kink. also brief mentions of deceased characters.

Word Count | 3.2k

A/N | oh look... another new character to add to the evergrowing list. i know this fic won't be for everybody, but i felt it was maybe a different take on our petulant prince that we were yet to see.

It was a peaceful Tuesday afternoon, when it happened. Things had been… quiet, since your mistresses passing. Days were spent being kept busy with stripping linen, emptying wardrobes and general upkeep in her chambers. Though the Royals were not known to be fair, nice or even gracious – Lady Alexeievna was always a wonderful woman. She wasn’t like the others were, she was polite, kind and was somebody that once you could’ve even called a friend.

You were sad to hear of her and her unborn son's tragic and untimely deaths, even sadder when you were summoned to the quarters to strip off the soiled sheets and scrub the wooden bedframe clean. Since, you spent every day dreading how soon it would be before the spoilt, petulant, obnoxious Prince were to be wed again.

Catherine would waste no time, Natalia was barely cold before she was snapping fingers and ordering her army of minions to look for the next suitable woman to become the future Queen. It was to be only a matter of time before he were to be married and another woman would grace these four walls, hopefully with the same kindness Natalia had.

Paul had only ever entered this wing once, and that was in the days after the deaths. You dreaded him ever coming back – it was an unpleasant encounter, hard to watch from the sidelines with the other women, and you knew in your heart that anger was boiling in his heart, getting closer to bubbling out as time went on.

You’re busying yourself with folding Natalia’s array of dresses, though you can’t see why you’re bothering. Money aside, they would be burned in a wooden pit in the coming days along with any other trace of her, by the request of Catherine and her son.

The noise of doors being burst open down the halls pluck your interest, though your brows furrow when you realise they’re edging closer and closer. You brace yourself, awaiting the impending slam of the doors into the bedroom – which finally come seconds later. An angry looking figure storming through on the back of the harsh clatter.

"Your —” You stutter, panicking for a moment, struggling to compose yourself, with the sudden burst of the doors, your heart racing and hammering against your ribcage like a rabbit running from its stalker, “Your Majesty, I was not expecting you."

You curtsey, eyes down toward the floor, as the Prince makes haste of entering the room, like a man on a mission. He reels, anger etched all over his face, nose scrunched up in distaste, a deep red flush down to his chest.

He takes no notice of you, waving you off, gunning straight for his late wife's beauty table, rummaging around like a mad man in her jewellery box. He throws things around, the various gold pieces falling to the wooden floors with dull thuds. You cringe silently, aware of the price of such luxuries that he is willingly tarnishing, battering up and breaking.

You watch under half lidded eyes as he stomps around aimlessly, clearly whatever he was looking for was not within eyesight and he would have to ask the help. He was a man who simply did not waste his time or breath on those beneath him, unless it was his army. The older ladies of the chambers told you he was colours of his father, but mostly Catherine, as much as the woman would never admit to that.

Paul had not been the same since the morning his mother had dragged him into his deceased wife's chambers and exposed her illicit affair with the Count. Not only had his wife and son perished, but he had to bear the knowledge now of understanding she was a harlot and their son was most likely not his at all.

He was an idiot. Everybody knew about Natalia and her discrepancies, all of the help included. So he could wander around like a pompous, stuck up arsehole however he pleased. He was a laughing stock, despite how he wandered these halls with a turned up nose and a sense of entitlement.

"Go on then, woman. You're bound to know where it is." Paul seethes, snapping you out of your thoughts. You don't look him in the eye, instead setting your sights just past his left shoulder.

"May I ask what 'it' is, Your Majesty?" You ask, fanning your delicate fingers over the fronts of your velvet mauve-coloured skirts. You glance over slightly, realising Paul is simply in a sheer night shirt and tights, not a speckle of rouge on his cheeks and his natural, dirty blonde curls unruly atop his head.

He was pretty, you had to admit. Underneath all of the garish clothing and the wigs and the makeup. He was a good looking man, regardless of what the Queen had said. Though his petulant attitude diminished his physical beauty in an instant.

"Don't act smart with me, girl. You know what." Paul's nostrils flare, and you finally lock eyes with him, watching as the emotions swirl around in his pretty brown eyes. You must have a confused look etched on your face, because he rolls his eyes and scoffs, "The fucking wedding band."

You suck in a sharp breath, your nervousness starting to diminish and in its place anger begins to take hold, "Your Majesty, it was at the Queen's request that Lady Alexeievna be buried wearing that band. She was –"

"You took my mothers orders over my own?" He's close to you now, breath fanning across your face. He's looking at you like he wants to grab you by the throat and throw you across the room, and you wait on baited breath for the assault, by now you had grown accustomed to the handsy men in the palace, "Answer me."

"She is the Queen, Your Excellency. She would - she would've had me beheaded, had I not done as requested." Your voice waivers slightly, a wince escaping you when Paul's large hand comes out to grab at your cheeks, squishing them beneath his harsh grip – his gold rings bite into your soft skin, sure to leave behind marks in their wake. Your lips puff together under the pressure, breathing jagged as your nostrils flare in a desperate attempt to breathe.

"You work for me. For my wife. Not my fucking mother." Paul spits in your face, and your bosom heaves as you desperately try to suck in a breath. You whimper quietly, as his other hand comes out to grip at your corseted waist, thumb dancing lightly over the satin ribbons that tied you in properly, "Hmm, such pretty garments for a nobody. Is this where my money was going? Making the scum at the bottom look pretty by my wife's request?"

Paul shakes your head for good measure before he loosens his grip to allow you to breathe, to talk, "She was a kind woman, Your Majesty. She was good to all of us ladies." Your voice is quiet, nerves shot as he plucks at the ribbons on your corset, tugging them loose. Your breasts spill out once the pressure is released, your scratchy undergarments the only material left to keep your modesty.

Paul stalks around your body, fingers playing with the ties on the back of your skirt as he speaks, quiet yet dominant, so close you can feel his breath on your ear, “Peasants such as yourself shouldn’t wear such luxuries. Such fine fabrics are made for the upper class, and as beautiful as you are, darling — you’re the furthest thing from it.”

The skirt drops to the floor and you wince, mortified by what’s happening. You’re powerless to stop it, the Prince would have you hung for treason if you so much as attempted to stop him. You’d hate to think what he’d do if you uttered a word of what was about to happen, after.

“Please, Your Excellency. You don’t have to—“ Your words are cut short when he grips at your undershirt, exposing your tits to the cool air in the room and leaving you gasping. It’s terrifying to admit that you’re not as scared as you should be, as he slithers back around your body until you’re toe to toe, his wide eyes drinking in the soft curve of your breast, the peak of your nipples, hardened in the chill.

“My, my,” He muses, and you make to cover yourself up with your arms, but he grips at your wrists and tugs them back down to your sides, tutting as he does so, “I don’t think so, malyshka. You’ll do as I tell you to, hmm? Otherwise there will be consequences.”

And you almost scoff at the rude pet name. Almost. Yet you find your thighs clenching beneath your underskirt as he soaks in every single square inch of your skin with his pretty, awestruck eyes. He backs you towards the edge of the bed, hands releasing your wrists in favour of tugging at the last of your undergarments and you let him, minimal fuss or resistance. It’s embarrassing, the way he clouds your brain and makes your cunt gush wet when he’s forcing himself onto you under the premise of death if you refuse.

“I’ll make this easy on you, darling, I promise.” He soothes, once the remainders of your clothing are pooled at your feet. You know better than to wait for him to demand you to finish the job, so you toe your worn in pumps off and slide the bundle of fabrics across the hardwood flooring. He watches you the entire time, a smug smirk playing on his lips as you almost willingly strip for him. He grabs at your wide hips, eyeing them – and he doesn’t even need to speak. You know what he’s thinking.

Perfect child bearing hips. Clearly not a virgin. But unmarried. So a harlot it is.

He spins you around with this almost grotesque salacious grin on his face, one hand removing itself from your hip to instead splay in between your shoulder blades, pushing your upper body onto the bed. You’re face down, quiet, ass in the air, like he clearly wanted.

The next move the Prince takes is unexpected. The hand remaining on your hips begins to run deftly along your ass, fingertips tracing your skin softly – a complete juxtaposition from the harsh way he’d spoken to and handled you previously. His pointer and middle finger run along the seam of your cunt, dipping into your folds and causing a gasp to fall from your lips.

“I told you I’d make this easy on you, malyshka,” There’s his god awful, condescending tone again, and you want for it to make you feel sick but all it does is make your tummy brew with want, “You don’t get to come, though. If you do, I'll spank you so hard you’ll not be able to sit for a week.”

Paul emphasises his words with a tap to your cunt, his fingertips slapping your clit almost perfectly, and it elicits a quiet moan in return. He hums, tsking under his breath, before slipping two thick fingers into your pussy, taking you by surprise. You cry out, lifting up onto your toes, squealing as he sets a fast pace.

“Your soaked cunt could almost be proof you’re enjoying this, darling,” Paul’s voice is giddy as he crooks his fingers down, running the tips along your frontal wall until you’re pushing your hips back into his hand. He skates his other hand down your back to place just above the curve of your ass, pushing your hips down, a warning, “Act the brat and see what happens, malyshka.”

You can’t help it – your guts churn, a tingling in your belly as he marks his words, you almost want to act up, just to see what the punishment would be. Lust is overtaking your whole body, clearly, because every last bit of nerve and fear diminishes, “S-Sorry, Your Excellency,” Your voice is wet as you apologise, his relentless fingers sliding in and out of your slick walls sending you reeling.

Paul clearly appreciates that you aren’t enough of a brat to address him as anything but his title, even with his fingers buried deep in your pussy – he pushes the curve of his hard cock into the supple flesh of your ass, grunting a little at the slight bit of relief it provides, “You will be if you keep it up.”

You let yourself go limp, allowing the pleasure of his fingers sinking into you to overtake your senses. It feels nice, he’s not as harsh as he could be and he’s still pressing onto all the right spots, despite his warnings of not letting you come. His cool rings catch on your entrance, causing you to shudder, and a sick part of you almost wants him to slide them into you, too, shove his fingers in as deep as they can go.

In your pleasure, you don’t hear or feel him shuffling behind you to shove down his own underwear, not realising until his fingers slip out of you and leave a drool of your own juices trailing down to your mound. You stay quiet, awaiting the head of his cock catching on your cunt.

It happens faster than anticipated and you clench on instinct once the tip slides through the mess you’ve made, running up and down the seam of your pussy and catching on your clit, just enough to make you whine. Paul tuts at that, grips onto your hip tightly with his hand, the other gripping the base of his cock and he’s sliding in, the size of him catching you by surprise as he splits you open.

“Oh, god,” You wail, fingers gripping into the sheets tightly as he sinks into you in one swift motion, knocking the breath right out of you. He gives you no time to adjust, he pulls out and shoves back in just as quickly, as harsh. Your tight cunt sucks him in, stretching comfortably to the sheer size and thickness of his cock.

Paul winds a hand tight in your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail, snapping your head back so it’s lifted off the plush sheets for him to see, “Filthy, malyshka. So wet for me, for a man who has forced himself on you? Pathetic.” It’s odd, how he can still sound so composed even as he rails into you, fucking you so hard and so rough that the noises echo in the large, mostly empty room, bouncing off the wooden walls and invading your ears.

Your eyes roll into your skull, you can’t help it. He fucks you like he hates you, and he probably does, but it makes it all the more delicious. You can feel every single ridge of his cock pressed tight in your cunt, the mushroom tip slipping against your g-spot over and over as he sinks in and out of you, making things even slicker. You know your pussy is dripping, probably pooling onto the floor too – just another mess for you to clean once he leaves.

He grunts as his hips clap against your ass, mesmerised and unable to tear his wide eyes away from where your bodies meet, the ripple of your supple flesh with every harsh thrust, “My, my,” He moans, slapping a firm hand on your ass just to hear you cry out, “How beautiful you’d look carrying my bastard child.”

You gasp, unable to contain it, cunt fluttering at the Prince’s words – and you know he felt it too, with the way his hips stutter and he chuckles darkly behind you. He winds your hair tighter in his other hand, pulls your head back even further until your neck is popping and he can watch your flushed face as he fucks you.

“Oh, you like the idea of that?” He laughs, words being spat like venom as you stare up at him with doe eyes, tears pricking at the corners and threatening to spill out, “Like the idea of being with child to me, hmm?”

You nod slightly, unable to rip your eyes away from him. He looks almost evil, what little softness he may have ever had was clearly gone in this moment, yet you find yourself being so attracted to it that it’s dizzying. Being treated like a worthless nothing and being told so, too. You cringe internally as your tummy begins to bloom with heat, a testament to how much you were enjoying it.

He can clearly feel it, the way your cunt begins to flutter and your ass pushes back ever so slightly, the tiny amount that the space can allow, with how deep the Prince is fucking you, grinding in deep and bruising at your cervix with every punch of his hips, “You want to come, malyshka?”

The tears finally spill from your eyes, wetting the apples of your cheeks and spilling down into your ears from how harshly snapped back your neck is, “Please, please. I’ll do anything,” You babble, voice as wet as your cunt is, and Paul grunts, beginning to lose composure. Your crying and begging clearly doing it for him, like a true sadist.

“Come then,” He says, like it’s easy. You mumble out tiny whispered ‘thank you’s, letting the pleasure start to course it’s way through your bones without repression, “You have ten seconds, you haven’t finished by then, it’s tough.”

You whine, like a petulant child, thrown off by his words. He chooses that moment in time to change his pace, because of course he does. He pushes your head back down into the mattress, near on suffocating you as he rams into you so hard you see stars.

“Seven, six…” His voice taunts you, and you try to block it out, focus on the noise of your drenched cunt sucking him in, the coil winding tighter and tighter and threatening to snap, “Three, two…”

Waves of pleasure wash over you before he can even count to one, your legs shaking and pussy spasming around his thick length as your release washes over you. You physically bite into the comforter, screaming as you come, high on your tiptoes and body going rigid. You feel the gushes of slick spilling out of you, dripping down Paul’s cock and making a mess.

He ignores you all together, fucks into you once, twice more with a harsh slap on your ass and then he’s coming, too. Burying himself impossibly deeper as his cock pulses in your spent walls, painting them with his release.

You lie there, unable to catch your breath – and he acts as if he hasn’t just fucked you into oblivion then filled you full of his seed. You cry when he slips out of you, making haste of pulling his trousers back up.

“Malyshka,” His voice almost has you jumping out of your skin, his plump lips on the shell of your ear, “You’re mine now, got that? Another man, in these halls or out of them, so much as looks at you, and you’re both dead.”

Anything you may have had to say to him dies in your throat. Lust and hope coursing through your veins at his very words.

#prince paul x you #prince paul x reader #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #my fanfic #mine #x reader #fem!reader

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badmirvcle · 2 years

Text

Childish - [Prince Paul x Reader] (1/?)

Word count: 2.4k

Pairing: (Catherine the Great) Prince Paul x Fem!Reader / Y/N

Genre(s): Slow burn, (Slight) angst, Mutual Pining

Warnings: Strong Language, Adult Situations, (Eventual) Smut || MINORS DNI || (More warnings will be added as chapters are updated).

Summary: You’ve known Paul your whole life - known that you were to belong to him one day. He’s always gotten what he wanted, so why make it easy for him?

A/N: I haven’t written anything in yeeearrsss so apologies for being rusty! I’m thinking of making this a mini series (maybe 3/ 4 chapters?) I love slow burns but not THAT slow, y’know?

Paul is rambling about something you don’t care for again.

“Do they not know the difference?” you mumbled with thinly veiled disinterest.

Something about the line of succession in Russia, you suppose. As always. If not this, then a myriad of complaints about his mother. You prayed he would find a hobby soon. Nevertheless, you played along.

“It appears that they do not.” he huffed.

“Then perhaps they are ignorant. I suppose they are yet to realise that you are ordained by god. Born to rule. The epitome of Russian male excellence and mediocre height-” you chirp as you slowly sway from side to side to mask your restlessness. You could play this game with him for hours.

“-Oh, you suppose, do you?” His face brightens incrementally for a moment. He hoped it wasn’t obvious how much he wanted to reach out and grab you each time you leaned in close to him, reaching out to delicately grasp a flower’s petals between the tips of your fingers.

“Yes, suppose I do.” As you look away back toward the palace and your watchful mother for a moment, he seizes the opportunity to glance down at your cleavage and let out a quiet, but deep sigh.

The childish back and forth had been going on for almost an hour now. Pettily poking and prodding at whatever words the other strung together in order to force a pleasant conversation. Neither of you knew any other way to be. This was supposed to be a ‘calming stroll’ through the gardens, yet you found yourself unable to breathe your frustration out - constricted by your corset and Paul’s face centimetres from your own, relentlessly taunting you gleefully. You both must have known what this farce really was - a chemistry read. Your mother, off to one side smiling behind her fan with one of the Empresses' ladies, eyeing you both like a hawk. You were having none of it.

“Well.” He continues. “There we have it. May I say no more, lest I waste my precious breath on you.”

You glower at his proud display of childish petulance. You shouldn’t be having fun with this - you’d been informed that it wasn’t lady-like, apparently.

“Why must you be this way? It is not the fault of your father, nor your mother - what accursed thing possessed you in your childhood to have you turn out so intolerable?”

He gawked in stunned silence for a moment, before his eyes brightened and a smile broke out across his boyish face. You hated when he did that. He looked almost pretty.

'Oh here we go' you thought, begrudgingly.

“And what mewling quim did you crawl out of to foster you into the vicious harpy that you are?” finishing off with a sly smile and a smug side-eye.

For a moment, you find him handsome.

Although you hated to admonish it, that was eloquently done. Quite a sophisticated level of snark from him. Touché.

You feign a gasp as your hand is dramatically flung to your forehead and you bend yourself back as far as your silk prison of a dress would allow you, falsifying weak knees.

“Paul! My mother speaks only highly of you, how unbecoming of a gentleman. However shall we join our two houses now? Bring harmony to our court?”

In all honesty, you couldn’t for the life of you remember what you were quarrelling about in the first place - It was irrelevant now. You were bored. Or perhaps it had slipped from your mind so easily because you had caught sight of how the Tsaverich had been eyeing your lips as you spat poison his way.

“On the subject of court and harmony..” You begin, coyly. Paul raises a well-groomed brow at you.

“Your mother- the Empress has expressed a growing interest in my future betrothal. Seems she wishes to see me making some other poor soul’s life a living hell”. You foolishly seemed to think that by jesting about the topic it would soothe the thunderstorm forming over his soft, but reddening face.

“Of course she has. Can’t have me keeping the company of any friends, can she? However would she keep her control over me then?” He attempts to steady his breathing before he stutters out an irritated laugh under his breath. “Besides…are we not already engaged? You are to be mine, she cannot take you then.” He chances a glance at you before he continues on with his train of thought.

You feel your neck flush a warm pink, slightly taken aback at the all too familiar subject being brought up again.

“It has always been a suggestion by our mothers, yes. But surely that is all it is, all it has ever been? We were children then! You; 8 and I only 6 and if I recall correctly, that was the first and last time that we got along” you reasoned, with a huff. “Surely neither of us are so desperate yet.”

Daggers. He’s glaring daggers now. Brilliant. As much as you generally enjoyed taking a hammer to the Prince’s peace, the sudden shift in topics had left you feeling queasy. It was now or never, if you didn’t royally piss him off now then he would be chasing you down the halls until he had you cornered both physically and metaphorically with a ring cutting off the circulation of your left hand. On the surface, you understood what your mothers had intended for the two of you and why - had Paul become any other man and you any other woman, you would have made a handsome pair. But as things were, you would never work. You could not. You drove each other wild and not in the exciting way and you didn’t feel like developing wrinkles by the age of 20 from the stress.

You hadn’t realised that you’d both stopped walking in favour of staring at each other in open-mouthed silence, and it was beginning to become uncomfortable.

‘Please don’t ask, please don’t ask me, please please’ maybe the mental chanting would work to cast a spell of protection to evade the elephant that’s been in the room since you were both barely out of your infancy.

“I will be seeing you at the ball then, I presume? Not one to pass up the chance to sink your claws into your next potential victim, little devil.”

You successfully mask your sigh of relief through a tight smile.

Oh, he seemed proud of that one. His lips were doing that sinister little side smirk you hated so much that you couldn’t look away. And he noticed. He absolutely noticed. So he held it there to tease you.

Little devil.

“Would you miss me too much if I decided not to? Could you bear the loneliness, my sweet Prince?” you purred as you took an unnecessarily deep and exaggerated curtsey, aware of the eye-full he was getting.

An equally exaggerated eye roll and he was back to his usual bratty self.

“Couldn’t stand to miss witnessing you hunting those poor men down for sport” he laughs softly, almost to himself. “Besides, it will be a welcome distraction, perhaps you’ll cause enough of a ruckus so that I may avoid my mother’s beady gaze for the evening and find some fun in a quiet corner for myself.”

He looks at you excitedly, almost as if he were a child who knew something you did not.

But a child you were not. Sex was hardly beyond your comprehension.

You’re not exactly sure what caused the sudden flush over your chest and the following hot anger, but before you could reason with yourself you found your own voice strained and spitting venom.

“Make your best effort to avoid the headache of bringing along some bastard for both our sakes while you’re off having this ‘fun’.” You scowl. “I would hate to give anyone any more reason to chain us together under the eyes of god. No getting out of that one I’m afraid, so do try to keep yourself out of the wrong maid”

Ah, that was a tad cruel.

“I wasn’t planning on- planning to-” Paul found himself floundering now, desperate for his eyes to not betray him and sink back down to watch your lips curve smoothly as you whispered your increasingly harsh ‘japes’.

You’re jealous.

He’s flustered, but not in the way you found yourself wanting him to be. Where that sudden thought came from, you would ruminate in the privacy of your chamber tonight.

‘Little devil’ you mused again. You liked that.

“No? Good. Now, I have other matters to attend to, I must be off.” You really didn’t want to leave him so soon, his reactions were starting to get interesting.

“Now just a moment-” Without thinking, he’s extending his arm to reach blindly for your hand, never once breaking eye contact. Are his eyes becoming glassy? He’s adorable, you want to see him like this more often, you think.

Now you’re feeling mean.

A chance to make him panic.

Maybe you can make him cry.

“Can’t keep your mother waiting, we have much to discuss. Good day, Tsarevich.”

“Tsarevna.” He mumbles softly, his cheeks dusting a soft pink as he looks down at his feet in a slight bow.

But you catch none of it - already marching back toward your grinning mother and her ever growing gaggle of gossipers. She looks proud, at least. Most likely mistaking the physical closeness of yourself and Paul to be playful attempts at stealing shy kisses, rather than hissing curses to each other through an awkward tension you’d never experienced before. Well, not with him of all people.

“My darling girl-” she sings softly into your ear as she embraces you just a tad too tightly to call it lovingly.

“Matushka” you attempt to bow your head slightly in gentle acknowledgement.

“I see your outing went well with your Prince, he couldn’t keep his gaze off of you - not even for a moment, we all found it so absolutely precious.” Her eyes flicker back down the gravel path and to Paul for the briefest moment before meeting your anxious but expectant gaze again. “Whatever spell you have cast over him, keep that up. We shall make a Princess of you yet, it was meant to be as our Patriarch told your father and I on the day we-”

“-On the first day you brought me to court - yes mother, god forbid I ever forget my true purpose here.”

“Good girl. Now, I’ve been informed that the Empress personally invited you to a joint dress fitting for the festivities. You shouldn’t keep her waiting and you can’t afford to miss this appointment, you must aim to be the most eye-catching cherub in the room - mustn't let another steal his affections.”

It hurt. You were hurt. As much as you willed it to be different, it would never be. You were not brought here to make friends, to find your place. You were here to be groomed into the position of Tsarevna - the future wife of Tsarevich Paul. As immature as you knew you had been, you knew deep down that this is why you had never allowed yourself to become close to him in the way you had wanted to - you wanted to be his friend so desperately, whilst growing up. You just could not allow yourself to blindly follow the path that had been designed for you by your puppet-master parents and their equally scheming Empress.

Perhaps you wouldn’t have much in the way of control over your life, but you’ll take the small victories by making the desires of your betters just that little bit more difficult to attain. They cannot force your happiness, therefore it had been decided by you that should you be forever chained to Paul - you would have him live to regret it.

Of course, that had been the plan. Throughout your childhood, you had always found Paul to be rather unpleasant to look at. The way his face would scrunch up in tandem with his fists whenever he had a temper-tantrum, his cheeks and neck turning an ugly shade of plum as his anger rose - which was constant. You had always towered over him - he was a shy little thing, shook like a leaf at the slightest confrontation from the other children. This led to you becoming his protector, naturally. He was never quite the Prince who was supposed to sweep you off of your feet one day.

Every summer, you would make the lengthy trip back to the palace and make good with the lords and ladies of court, be sweet to the royal family, unwittingly court their son and then be on your way back home with your parents and nanny. That is, until your father received an invitation for a permanent position at court and your mother - a long time friend to the Empress, to be welcomed into her tight-knit circle of vipers-in-waiting.

3 years had passed since you had last found yourself here, you had quite been enjoying your education in France and felt reluctant to return.

Yet, somehow. At some point, the rug had been swept from under your feet. That morning, as Catherine had come to greet you all for the final time at the main entryway to the palace, the eyes you had met 100 times over her shoulder were not the same angry little black dots that you had grown so familiar with. Instead, your breathing had stilled as you struggled to maintain a mask of polite indifference.

Were they always so big, like a baby deer’s? So vibrant. Did you spot flecks of gold now that he was out here standing in the sun? His jaw had sharpened too - and he was taller, taller than you. Much taller than you and broad. Now possessing a strange but alluring confidence - no, arrogance that really should not have had you standing there, openly staring with not a single word forming in your mouth or brain. Paul was handsome. 3 years and he was handsome.

Not one to usually be self-conscious, you suddenly find your eyes flitting over yourself. Did you fill out your dress nicely? Was the light shade of lilac adorning your tightly-fitted gown a fashionable choice? Was the wind carrying your perfume and was it to his liking or perhaps it was too overwhelming?

Unbeknownst to you, Paul was suffering through his own internal crisis. You had made it no secret to him in your adolescence just how unbecoming his face and attitude was, how your own face soured around him and how it was doing something similar in this moment. His mother was talking but all he could hear was white noise and his own stifled breathing as he rapidly and openly scanned over you. In some twist of fate, the two of you had shared a thought that morning as you stood together, bowing to each other in your matching shades of purple as if you were two flowers from the same meadow. A romantic thought had crossed his mind for a moment, but only for a moment - of this being fate. A romantic however, he was not as he’d let the notion slip away from his mind as easily as it had entered.

A/N ii: this one goes out to all of my argumentative girlies, fighting means flirting here & you’re in a safe space to be as mean as you want to your boy toys <3

#childish fanfic #you waaaaant eachother #reader hates Paul’s wig #she’s just waiting for the right moment to tell him #prince paul x reader #joseph quinn #x reader #catherine the great #mini series #joseph quinn characters #joseph quinn x reader #prince paul

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helpwhatsthis · 2 years

Text

joseph quinn m.l.

eddie munson:

love divides (series)- a series following the life of hoppers' adopted daughter as she navigates her way through high school and battles monsters.

e.m. nsfw headcanons- basically his kinks, what i think he'd like, and a few scenarios with an afab!reader.

eddies' sugar mommy hcs- general hcs for how eddie met his sugar mommy and what their relationship would be like.

fourth of july- eddie dies in y/ns' arms, but not before he asks for a promise.

eddie munson fluff hcs: one, two

hard dom! eddie and soft dom! chrissy

tom grant:

jealousy headcanons!

dating headcanons!

prince paul:

jealousy headcanons!

my darling- reader rips off sub!pauls' dress after the party.

dating headcanons!

others characters and stories will be added soon!

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writing-fanics · 2 years

Text

currently working on Prince Paul and a Leonard Bast requests if you’ve got any requests for theses characters below

Tom Grant (Make Up)

Arthur Havisham (Gender-Neutral!Reader Only)

Leonard Bast

Enjolras (PBS Masterpiece)

Prince Paul

Eddie Munson

Plz send them in

#joseph quinn #x reader #fanfic #fluff #headcanons #angst #romance #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #leonard bast x reader #prince paul x reader #tom grant x reader #arthur havisham #enjolras x reader

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joeandpedrosimp · 1 year

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The struggle.

#joseph quinn #joey2chainz #stranger things #arthur havisham #dickensian #tom grant #spotify #arthur havisham fluff #eddie munson #fanfic #leonard bast #enjolras #makeup #prince paul #billy knight #pedro pascal #pedro pascal is daddy #zaddy af #papichulo

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delving-verilly · 1 year

Note

Saw you have time coming up and would love some little scenes if you can between reader and Eddie, Steve, or any character either of the Joe’s play. Would love something with Keys or Prince Paul!

Will do! Thanks for the ask. Have time once I get through Christmas so will knuckle down then.

#joseph quinn #joe quinn #eddie munson #stranger things #joe keery #fanfic #steve harrington #tom make up #fanfiction #walter mckey #keys free guy #prince paul

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blackterrae · 8 months

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Ideas for Black!Reader Fic

I am going to try my hand again at writing. And I wanted to share some people and fandoms that I love. If you don’t know these shows/actors/franchises/movies/streamers I’m putting you on! For the following:

Johnny Depp- All his characters

Cameron Monaghan- I know that there are fics out there but it’s only always his Jerome/Jeremiah roles never just him or Cal Kestis

Anthony Carrigan- I loved Anothy as Victor Zsasz

Paul Dano- There are Riddler fics but not as many for his other roles

The Entire Cast of Hawaii Five-0 (2010) - Don’t even get me started on how good this show is! And the cast looks amazing!

Chicago Med/Fire/PD- These shows have so much potential for fanfic storylines!

The Game (2006)- Has great potential for slow burns and fluffs.

Star Wars franchise (1977-present) - I know I said Cal Kestis but there are also other characters like Anakin, Luke, Obi Wan,Boba Fett (etc.)

NCIS franchise- I honestly love this franchise and it’s characters!

Hamilton

Any/All Sports Men- Jude Bellingham,Lewis Hamilton,LaMelo Ball,Allen Iverson(etc.)

Berleezy - He’s handsome and he’s funny!

Coryxkenshin- I literally love him and his videos!

Albert Aretz (Flamingo)- Look … he may be the epitome of mediocre white man but I like what I like!

AMP- Duke Dennis, Kai Cenat, Agent 00, ChrisNxtDoor,Davis, and Fanum ( all I gotta say is love a black man from infinity to infinity🗣️)

Beta Squad- A British YouTube/ streamer group!

SOMEBROS- Berleezy, Rico, ,PG, Joe (etc.)

WWE- come on now, do I even need to explain!!!

Four Brothers- All the cast but Garrett Hedland in particular!

Peacemaker - Don’t get me wrong I love Adrian Chase but I want to see just as much Peacemaker x black!reader fics because 2 words… JOHN CENA

MAWS- New animated Superman show! Love!

Smallville - The entire cast is hot! Tbh I fell hard for Tom Welling when I was younger when he was in Cheaper By The Dozen. Plus they literally whitewashed Vixen. COME ON! Vixen is a black female hero btw. She was also with Jon (Green Lantern) at one point.

Justice League/Justice League Unlimited (2001 and 2004)- I mean I literally can’t find any Jon Stewart x black!reader fics and he was with a BLACK WOMAN!

Warner Bros Franchise (minus the looney tunes & space jam)- There are lots of popular franchises that this company has from Fast & Furious to The Matrix!

Peaky Blinders- Saw a Tommy shelby x arms dealer black!female reader fic on my previous account but even then I couldn’t find it again on that account. So it’s gone with the wind. And the cast (i.e the actors and other characters they’ve portrayed). Example: Cillian Murphy as Johnathan Crane.

The Bear

FBI (All)

Vinnie Hacker

Tiktokers

Blue Bloods

Will Poulter- I haven’t really seen any Adam Warlock fics

Slashers

Stranger Things

Dave Lizewski

Eddie Redmayne

Macgyver (2016)

Fresh Prince of Belair

Guardians of the galaxy- Explanation? Do I really need one?

On My Block

Descendants (characters will be the actors age in real life.duh)- Love Boo-boo Stewart & Mitchell Hope!

Matt Rife

Joey Bragg (Liv &Maddie) - What can I say I love dorks!

The Boys- Haven’t seen that many fics about the characters and a black reader

Once Upon A Time- I love dark fairytales sometimes because they remind me that not every story has a happy ending and you have to learn from them. But this series is good for any theme really.

Walker Texas Ranger (1993)

Top Gun

Magcon: Whether you saw their vines on YouTube or vine, you know who they are

Dolan Twins

Mission Impossible

Euphoria- Entire show has great storylines with the potential of drama in fics

Shameless- Especially Carl Gallagher and Lip Gallagher

Creed- Michael B Jordan need I say more

Keanu Reeves- There are very few fics about Keanu but I’ve seen a few of his John Wick x black!reader fics (chef’s kiss) but never see any of The Matrix Fics!Also Ted (Bill & Ted)

River Phoenix

Batman Beyond

Rider Strong

Danny Gonzalez

Timothée Chalamet

New York Undercover

Past-Present Singers & Rappers/ Groups -Bow Wow, Tupac, Lil Baby, Nelly, Omarion, Prince, Michael Jackson, Jon B,Usher, Central Cee, Måneskin, New Edition, BTS, James Bay(etc.)

Anime(Any kind!)- Would love to see other shows, I know hunterxhunter,aot,one piece (etc.)

Bridgerton- There is very little Bridgerton stories catered around a black reader.

Marvel- Now that’s not to say that there aren’t any in fact there are many but I never see (Tobey Maguire Spider-Man stories and it seems like everyone tends to focus on the famous Marvel characters like The Avengers but not on other aspects like X-men or better yet, heroes that haven’t even gotten their own movie but are just as amazing like Squadron Supreme , it’s equivalent to DCU’s Justice League.

Secret Invasion- Not gonna lie , I’m feening for Gravik.😳

DCEU- Another franchise that pushes its other characters to the side. For example, Hush (Thomas Elliot) is literally the epitome of Bruce Wayne gone bad!

Ross Lynch- There are so many roles that Ross did so well in Like Teen Beach Movie or Sabrina.

Highschool Musical Franchise (2006- present ) I’m not just talking about HSMTS (2019), I mean even further back than that. I don’t see any Troy Bolton x black!reader and that’s crazy. I also can’t find any Zac Efron x black!reader

Interview with a Vampire (1994) and (2022)

Austin Butler- He did well in his role as Elvis!

Vikings - There are a good amount but still!

Transformers

Suits

Saved By The Bell

The Goldbergs

Parks & Recreation

Leverage

The Outsiders

Heart of Stone

New York Undercover (1994)

Addams Family

Victorious

Matpat

ICarly

The Real Bros of Simi Valley (2017)

Think Like A Man (2012)

One on One (2001)

Scorpion (2014)

The King of Queens (1998)

G.I. Joe Franchise

Terminator

Beware the Batman (2013)

Any and all Asian Idols/Actors

Seal Team

Mortal Combat

Bill and Ted

Barbie

Detroit: Become Human

Will Trent

Tokyo Vice

Growing Pains

Graceful Family (Kdrama)[Any Asian Drama shows or movies would be great as well]

The Regime

Batman: The animated series

If anyone needs ideas for these franchises/movies/shows/actors , then holla at me! I got you!

Also add more to the list if anything that you would like to see comes to mind.

Also tag black writers who you want to see this!

@sheabuttahwrites @shinsouscatpisssmell @cocoamoonmalfoy @heathenarmyimagines @cinewhore @cocoamoonmalfoy @stxxllaaa @glitterjuju @lilvampirina @breanime @blackmissfrizzle @afro-hispwriter @stargirlfics @lavenderursa @clydesducktape @pettyprocrastination @theblvckvenus @plantvenuss @punani @n-slayaaaaa @infernalodie @halfofmysoulsblog @iridecsense @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @supremethunda @thekrazykeke @canumoveurseatup-no @hiatuswhore @avintagekiss24 @ohcaptains @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @xsapphirescrollsx @sunflowertuliplily @bakarilennox @batfamily14 @ramp-it-up @blackreaders-assemble @royallyprincesslilly @funnyexel @blackterrae @slashisms @artemisthewh0re @shelbydelrey @toocriticalharlow @v-era-18 @vampsired @queenimmadolla @sinnerlillith @greengoblinswifey @apocalypse-shuffle

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punk-in-docs · 1 year

Note

“if you want to come you better beg” x prince paul cause i need this filth 😩👀

🥀Qualities of Mercy🥀

Prince Paul x Tsarevna // smut drabble - Bugger me sideways @usedtobecooler only the best for you babes crème de la crème - Prince Prick and some bratty behaviour culminating in angry!hate!fucking coming up. Also short? I don’t think I can write short drabble a about this man. I’m having a lot of feelings ok.

Some babes I know may want to see this @indouloureux @munsonswhore86 @heyndrix @lunatictardis @creme-bruhlee @callmeloverr @roanniom

It’s an odd relief to see the signs of war increase with each gained mile, burnt out patches of land and artillery tracks wedged into the mud. Foul air, fire, and rifle smoke; it means you’re closing in on your goal.

It means you’re that much closer to your husband.

Foul boggy mud, and nipping winds that cut to bone. You’re rumbling your way along treacherous roads, ever closer.

The terrain is dismal. There’s not even any sweetly soft birdsong chirping from the trees. There’s no kind nature. There’s only war and man, and guttural cries of the wounded. A landscape drizzled with slanted misty rain. Stubby felled larch trees and splintered bark.

The soldiers encamped, look like misshapen beasts. Blood crusted black, and the wounded wearing filthy yellowed bandages. Eyes missing, limbs turned to stumps. Squatting and huddling in clumps in the woods. Shivering under canvas with pithy licks of orange campfires staining the air with spicy woodsmoke.

They watch the carriage pass with rapt fascination. But too cold to react.

You weren’t expected.

That fact is writ plain as day all over the face of the dirt smeared soldier who trudged up to the carriage window. The soldier on watch. Who’d been pissing up against as tree when you rolled up.

His eyebrows buoy in surprise as you drop your fur lined hood.

“My Lady-“ He rasped in surprise.

“Tsarevna.” Your second maid, Maricel, leaned forward and snipped. Voice like a barking hound. Just as dogged.

She was eternally bolshy and hard edged. Hated you not being given the proper due politesse as deserving of your rank. She took great offence to those who didn’t understand the severity of your position.

“I’m here to see my husband. Kindly take me to him.”

“I’m not sure he’ll want- he’s occupied with many important matters.“ He fumbles for an excuse.

Maricel’s words come locked in impatience.

“Are you suggesting the Tsarevna of Russia is unimportant?” She tests.

“No- I.”

“He will carve out the time for his wife, you dumb prick.” She points out. Rubbing her shivering hands.

“Now, now.” You scold her.

She merely rolls her eyes. Not frightened by you whatsoever. Just pissy cause she’s cold.

The solider shuffles on his feet. Breaks eye contact. “I’m not sure I have the authority to-“

“Are you going to make me repeat myself.” You warn. Ire threaded into every word.

You stare him down with slicing diamond eyes. Tips sharpened and designed to cut.

A look you’ve thieved and mastered from Catherine’s own brand of venom. Don’t budge an inch.

It’s enough to get him to snap his mouth shut.

“No. Uh. Of course. This way, Tsarevna.”

You clambered out that boxy royal carriage. Door encrusted in a golden crest. Dainty sky blue heel sinking into earth. Hem sodden and dragged with it in no time. Maricel follows you dutifully. Your guard dog.

“Cunt.” Maricel bites out at the solider as she shuffled after you. Trudging into the muck.

“Put your forked tongue away.” You suggest.

She moodily deigns to do as you say.

You fold your gloved hands. Pretty pearl buttons march along your wrists now seeming contemptuous among all this. You rub at them to spark up some warmth in your numb fingers, as you looked around for the cluster of carmine coated generals.

Slipping and staining your skirts with slodgy mud as you followed the dismal soldier who’d take you to him. Your heels slip up, your feet get bogged. The stench of this place is curdling your lungs. Burnt larch trees and smoke and decay.

You press on. Determined.

The men swim their their groggy eyes to you. This place is used to viscera and gummy black blood, and mud crusted ash.

By comparison you look like a chunk of pure silken teal sky, fallen to earth. Precious and spotless. A drop of stunning sapphire wedged into all this dirt and death.

You squelch your way through tents and surgeon tents where men lay gouged and exposed. Rotting alive and shivering under the canvas as they cried out to the chowder thick sky. Rain melting on their eyelashes.

The smoke cleared past you, drifting. And then your overly elegant shape comes moulded out the congealing blood and smog of his hell. Pearl buttons, satin, and floral petal perfume. A wrenching juxtaposition coinciding.

You see your husband. Through the cloth mouth of one of the larger tents. No mistaking those puddle eyes for anyone else. The white scratchy wig. The cut of his powder blue coat and red royal medals slashing blood.

He’s gathered with men around a map table staked out with battle plans. This fare is all simplicity. Battle for blood and the vicinity of conquering men.

This is a land shuttered to the gaze of your sex. Your kind do not come roaming here. Not noble women anyway. The generals of mild importance probably had their favourite whores fetched in, however.

You stand and his eyes travel at last to yours. You smile lightly.

His expression altered into bitterness. Eyes lost their walnut warmth. Jaw clenched. Mood spiked sour.

He told you distinctly not to fucking come.

Yet here you stand.

You meet his burnt umber gaze and the sparky fire flecked there, scalds you.

“Tsarevich.” You greet him. Breath whipped to silver. You’re standing in the misty rain.

Waiting to see what comes spat back.

The generals clustering him, all bow in confusion and politely bob their unkempt wigged heads.

Not Paul.

His jaw clenched. Expression stiff. Posture as rigid as a Siberian Larch.

You’re fucking in for it now.

You batted at the sopping stretch of canvas. Hurling it out the way. Rain crashes down into your sprouting feathered hat and onto your shoulders.

Every squelch of your step into the oozing mud came sharp. Striking as a gut punch.

He’s following, hot on your heels, and you want to turn around and swing a punch into the angelic cherubim face you’d missed all these lonely long eight months.

His anger set off your own. Silky black gunpowder meeting roaring flame.

He’s livid.

You stand in his quarters. His tent is this huge beast of a thing. Clean and comfortable. A room with a table and maps and trunks takes up one. Green and gold tapestries make the walls slightly more habitable. More sophisticated. A cut above the desolate forest and the miseries of the wounded.

An emerald velvet curtain shields off the area where his ornate downy bed must be. He was still a Prince after all. He’ll be among his men. But he’s not sleeping in a frozen bedroll in the muck like an animal.

He storms into this space behind you and slaps the canvas closed. Words snapping out his mouth, that flimsy tent walls and steadily dripping rain will not conceal.

“This is not a place for you. You’re not supposed to be here.”

You don’t twist back to him as you angrily shed your gloves. Ripping them off like it was your own skin.

“Heaven forfend. I travel for two days in an uncomfortable carriage in the fucking driving rain to come see my husband and this is the thanks I get?”

“I told you not to come!” His words stamp out his mouth. He stabs a finger in the air. Aiming it as you.

“A lovely welcome.” You stab back.

He’s toe to toe with you. Muddy boots. Those chocolate eyes are all bitter. Not skated in love. Cold as all this terrible mud you’re bogged into.

“I don’t need you here. I have enough to deal with on my plate as it is fighting these Turks. I don’t need my wife by my side whilst I’m engaged in matters of battle.”

You steel your wilful jaw and bathe in the burnt brown shadow of his scowl.

“I am your wife. I have been left rotting at court. In misery now you’re gone. I decided to come and see you. To be here, by your side. In sickness and in health and even in battle. I don’t consider that as an action that deserves censure.”

“Yes it fucking is. I don’t need you here.” He shouts.

The burn of tears stings at your chest. Rips at your eyes. The man you’ve missed and ached after for months now and this is his choice of words levelled at you. It’s cutting.

“Lovely.” You bite out. “Well then. I won’t waste my time loitering around for you to yell at me.” You grip your gloves and turn back to him.

“Fuck you, Paul. Good day. Go back to your warring, and muddy filth.” You finish acidly. Your throat is full of clotting fire. Your rage. In situ with your wounded pride.

You shove at his coated chest, dull gold buttons. Go to move past him. Wipe your boots on his fine rug floors on the way out.

Your ruined shoes stick on the spot. He’s banded a hand around your wrist. It tugs. Burns skin.

“Let go.” You seethe. Pull your arm. You don’t look at him. Jaw grit.

He does not.

You wrench again. It brings you closer to him. You snarl. He stills your arm.

You do meet his gaze. The glint of fire - raked embers - returns to his eyes.

“No.” He decided.

Oh, now he’s in for it.

Anger spumes out of you like raining cursed hellfire. He should be terrified. You are mighty. Goddess of war backed with wrath. Angrier than Ares. These men should cower under your golden gaze. Desolation writ into you so heavily they should run for the hills.

“Thought you didn’t need me? Why would the mighty Tsarevich need his dumb bitch of a wife at his side? Run out of good whores have you?”

It was too late for niceties.

“Just be quiet.” He snaps.

Stepping very close. Close enough to touch only he doesn’t. His eyes move to your mouth. His hand seeks for your waist. Reels you in.

You don’t want too. But you clam up. You want to rear back and swing your fist to strike him. Preferably with a knife.

“I have never known a woman as disobedient. Nor as wilfully stubborn as you are. It’s infuriating.” He snipes.

His breath warms your mouth. He smells like his woody spice soap and bitter brush of smoke, and sweat. Still Paul. Underneath all things.

“Good.” You snarl with a nod. “I’m glad to have been such an inconvenience.”

“Constant dagger in my side.”

“Fuck you.” You announce passionately.

“I have had enough of your inability to listen to my orders.” He comments.

“Tough shit.” You snark.

“Elegant verbiage.” He insults.

His gaze is swimming into something steel black and lethal. You hate how much you like looking at him like this. It almost makes him look intimidating and handsome.

At this point, you’re half desire, half pure lightning hot rage.

“Get back to me when I don’t want to stick a knife in your thigh. Maybe my vocabulary will improve.” You hiss.

You’re so locked and entwined with this man. Tug his strings and it’s sure enough to jerk some distant part of you, merely by extension.

“Are you wet right now?” He asks. Head tilting His lashes shutter his eyes as he scans you. From the dirt crusted hem, sweeping upwards.

Your mouth is dry as tumbling scorched sands. Clench your teeth to dust. Heart ramming your tonsils.

He spies that twitch in your face. “Am I to take that as a yes, Tsarevna?”

If looks could kill.

“I’m going to fuck you. I know how plaint and weak it makes you when I work that delicious cunt open with my cock.” He steps you back. Hands tugged in your dress. Leading.

“I will fuck every disobedient word and thought out that head. Wife.” He sneers.

He pushes you to one of the wooden columns. Shunts a breath out of you. Hands digging through your skirts. Searching for your pussy.

You rake your nails into the nape of his neck. Hope it stings. Pray it brings blood.

“Be careful what you wish for.” You warn.

He smiles.

He’s fucking you not two minutes later.

Naturally, it didn’t take him long. You succumbed way too easy. Melted like butter, really.

He’s slithered to the gaps in your armour and snuck beneath with all the cunning adroitness of a serpent. You detest it.

He doesn’t give you what you need. Of course not. He doesn’t make this easy. His actions are all dipped in mocking taunt and brat.

He splayed you open, and rubs the fat leaking head of his cock against your trembling pussy. Eight months of nothing your your own fingers and he’s making you sit and beg like a trained lapdog.

Slapping it to your clit and smiling when you lurch. Unwilling to feed the head into you just yet.

It’s fucking agony.

You’re ready to slit his throat by the time he rewards you with sinking to the hilt in one ramming surge of his hips. The anger dissipates - a little.

You soothe the rest of it by leaning up and gnashing your teeth into his neck. Clamp down hard- force him to fuck you harder.

He cursed when sliding into you. Mumbled wisely about how conflict always made you so juicy wet for him. He pulled back and taunted you with your own greediness for his cock. The shine of your arousal coating him all glossy. A pretty sight, that.

“Hear how wet you are my love?” He lurches and slams you. A sharp stroke that wracked every vertebrae of your spine.

The sounds that come keening from you make your eyes flick back into your head. Enough to make him more smug.

“Utterly filthy. Soaking.” He huffs in gasps. “Making wet patches on my bed like a damn harlot.”

“Can’t believe you. Hmm- fucking brat. Yelling at me for coming here.” You manage to gasp. Cheeks blistering hot with this anger spurned arousal. Nails clawed into the carved headboard.

A hiccup snags the back of your throat as he knees closer.

Pushes your legs almost crushed up to your tits. Your stays almost strangling you. You cry loud because of this new angle. Makes him punch a spot inside that almost aches.

“I think this cunt is more pleased to see me than you are.” He smirks. Hands with dirty nails digging into your thighs. Ten half moons socketed into your quivering flesh.

“Fucking hell.” Spews out your mouth. Unguarded. He’s severing every strong steel thread of your resolve.

“I’ll take that as yes.” He says. Hair falls choppy in front of his wild eyes. Tiger eyes. Frightful fierce. Hands clamped to your thighs. He spreads you and sits up to stuff himself deeper. Harder. Faster.

The noises he’s getting out of you are just growing and growing. Rising in pitch and volume. So much so you’re swirling your hips to him to get feedback off that friction. That burgeoning pleasure begins to slice mean into your belly.

“How you moan for me when I give you my cock. Never gets old.” He grins.

“Never too late to punish my disobedient-“ he huffs and fucks hard inbetween his words. “Petulant. Stubborn. Wife.” He insists with a playful leer.

He can tell by the wails how close you are. Enough to taste it now. That eye rolling pressure ready to snap.

His cock stretched you just right. Stabbed into the gaping cup of your womb. You’re so treacherously close to that blissful peak you go rigid trying to chase it down and let the sensation ruin you.

It was mind meltingly good. Close and looming closer. Heat wrapping your limbs and warping your mind to bend to him. Every atom of you trained for this pleasure to come-

He yanks his cock out of you so fast, you want to shriek.

That coal hot glow of orgasm withers and curls to ash. He’s back to slipping his fat head around your cit again. Smearing your cunt in a sticky taste he’ll find and devour later.

“You fucking-“ you glare up at him all blissed and edged. Cunt clenching on nothing but air. He smooths both his thumbs over your pretty and dripping pussy lips. Making you throb.

“If you want to cum, you better beg.” He insists.

“I could kill you.” You seethe. Words dressed in a growl.

He tilts his head. Teasing. “Yes?”

You yelp when his cock slams into you once more. Puff for breath. God fucking dammit.

“How about now?” He checks as he folds you in half, yet again. Cock rooted deep.

The start of a long night, to be sure.

Hours later, darkness wraps you up. Comforting tenebrous blanket. Candles are lit. Dozy gold and matte dark pours into the tent.

He has you food brought in as an apology.

Someone ducks in the tent with a tray of it. He pulls on his boots to go fetch it. Leaves you boneless on his goose feather plumped bed.

There’s a bottle of wine with dinner too. Not the best but you’re not complaining. Dry hard biscuits and a salty wedge of goats cheese was your lot in the carriage ride here.

There’s a thick milky porridge with creamy oats and nutmeg and warming spices. A slab of pink roasted meat glistening with fat and golden globs of plain boiled potatoes barely salted. Sided with some hunk of brown hardy bread smeared in greasy butter.

This food is hot and warm and fills your belly well. He feeds it to you.

It’s how he soothes. But it’s not the only way he wants to offer you comfort.

He gets naked and climbs under the covers. Always bathed you in limitless comforts and luxuries after a rough fuck. The calm sweetness after a raging storm of passion and stinging claws and slamming hate. When the blood has dried to rust, along with the nasty words.

He slips between your legs under the sheets to tongue at your cunt like it’s a juicy honeycomb treat that drips honey.

It’s dripping him.

He eats it out of you. You sigh all dreamy and elongate your neck back to pillows that smell like his shaving soap, to moan his name.

Slipping your nails over the short brown thorns of hair. Rake over his scalp.

You gasp his name and you know the soldiers will have heard the sound sneak out the tent flaps. You don’t care.

His tongue slithers and laps through your puffy sex. Fully nursing your clit with the curl of his tongue. Brushes through the tactile scratch of your curls there. He loves burying his nose in them.

When he’s done he slinks up from under his furs and sheets. Wiping his mouth in the back of his hand. Still a little bit of both of you combined is smeared wetly across one cheek.

It catches in the flickering murky light. Candles are spinning red gold in the dim. Rain is a steady pat on the tent roof.

You look down at him. His gaze is all warmth and tenderness again. A knowing smile slopes the corner of his mouth.

“Did you really travel all this way just so I could fuck you?” He asks all smug.

You smirk. “Got what I wanted, now didn’t I.” You dismiss archly.

But you both know it seats a little deeper than that. There’s definite skin both of you have sunk into this game. It might even be the gummy beating walls of your hearts involved.

“You do know you’re a walking fucking nightmare.” He tells you.

Slotting himself between your hips. Seeking to hold your hands as he rolls into you. Makes your cunt clench.

Your hand slips from stroking his hair, downwards. Vicing your cruel hand around his soft throat. His eyes blaze again.

“Don’t you dare fucking forget it.” You sneer.

He sends you home sore - five days after your arrival.

#punkwrites #prince paul fanfiction #prince paul catherine the great #prince paul imagine #prince paul fanfic #prince paul x you #prince paul smut #prince paul x oc #prince paul x reader #prince paul #i would die for this man #such a brat #he’s such a filthy ho #such a hottie #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn

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stardancerluv · 7 months

Text

By the Light of the Silvery Moon

Part 5

Summary: Prince Paul is married.

Notes/Warning: I read and I imagined the wedding…and celebrations that would commence. I also added a dash of what I’d like to imagine. Please do not take it for at all historically accurate. I used Almond Blossoms for fertility, Red Lilies for Passion & Love, Peonies for Marriage. Dated concepts of marriage.

You can still imagine the dynamic between Paul and reader. I just thought it would be cute that now without shoes and/or boots, that she is a lot shorter

18+ only please. Consensual. P in V sex. Paul takes reader’s virginity. I make reference to how he may eventually be more dommy & his temper.

Once again…ty so much for reading. ❤️s and reblogs are very appreciated. Along with any comments/feedback! Enjoy!

His fingers grazed your gloved ones. His breath caught in his throat at this brief moment that transpired. Your pinkies entwined. Your eyes met, exhaled and your fingers separated.

“May safety and health be on your side as you travel home.”

You turned, your lips gave him the gentlest of smiles. “Your words bring warmth to my heart. They will help in travels.”

*******

The air was crisp, leaves chased each other like the letters the two of you sent each other.

….with this being our final letter my beloved.

I look forward to the day, when I am able to finally lift your vail on our wedding day.

May these final days fly on the wings of a hawk.

With relish, he put his quill back into the inkwell. A smile played on his lips as he sealed with wax and had it sent off.

The next few days did indeed fly by. The last stitches were made in his wedding coat. The buttons were polished. His boots were as well.

Soon opulent banquets, balls were held. The festivities were held. All of it was terribly exciting, yet he yearned for the day; you would finally be man and wife.

******

As he laid against the bath, his heart thudded hard in his chest. His excitement consumed him. The warm stones pulled a sigh from him as he allowed himself to relax. The eucalyptus filled the air, clearing his mind. A small smiled played on his lips. He would be fresh and clean for you, his wife. He looked forward to this new chapter in his life.

******

He combed down his unruly short curls, while eyeing his reflection. Everything, looked sharp. This would be a good look for a portrait. He will have to call on the artist and have him do a portrait of you and him in the grand hall.

******

Murmurs filled the air. They grew louder when he turned and saw you approach with your mother and father. Relatives, dignitaries and various members of the court filled the room. Though, you stood truly apart from all of it. You were so beautiful.

Soon the priest led the two of you. Your hands were bound and the crowns were placed, the ceremonial prayers were spoken. His promise you from the depths of his heart were finally said aloud. Hearing your promise and words of loved filled him with joy.

Lifting your veil, his heart beat even faster as his eyes met yours. He would never tire of looking into them. Gently, he lifted your chin and inhaling he placed a kiss on your lips.

******

The rest of the night was a blur of food and vodka. You both had twirled about the room. He had relished the feel of having his arm finally wrapped around your middle. Your warmth and softness felt so good against him. You giggled and shared smiles the entire night. He was also grateful that your ladies in waiting, finally appeared to be enjoying themselves.

*******

In the blur of the vodka and all the food, voices of excitement bounced off the walls of the estate. During, which he was grateful that during the festivities he had been able to loose his bothersome wig. He hated pinning it to his short curls. It was a touch of formality that irked him.

His friends and servants formed their own little group as did your friends and servants and together they bounced the two of you around. Smiles, twinkles in the eyes and laughter joined and became one between you and him.

As the candles melted to half strength, half their height, he found himself along with you and all your companions being moved to his private chambers. He gad been warned this would happened. He hoped you had been too. The pain was still fresh when he saw how violated you had felt after the physician had seen you. He would never want you to experience that ever again. He didn’t know exactly when the time came, but it was time to head to his chambers.

He drew close to you, in the fuzziness of his vodka and food, he whispered you what he had been told was expected. He brushed aside a wisp of your hair.

“Love, we climb in and pull the blankets up to our waists. That should be more then enough.”

Your eyes shone and your cheeks, was dusted in a darker hue of red. He knew some was from the merriment. But it was also from the words he spoke.

“Ya.” Your German snuck out for the briefest of moments as you said yes. But then soon glancing away before glancing back him you nodded. “Yes, that shall be fine. Our life is on the cusp of several new traditions.”

He nodded. Inwardly he sighed. You spoke of what both of you knew as your future together. “Maybe if you allow I shall give you a kiss and then they all with hope in my heart finally leave and give us time finally for just the two of us. If that is alright with you?”

“Yes, that would be wonderfully pleasant.”

*******

He let his entourage of companions move him. Your hands finally parted and soon you met each other’s eyes over the expanse of the large bed. His and your personal servants pulled aside the blankets. He took a breath, his life would never be the same after this. He would be a husband, one day a father and soon king of his great nation. Russia is and always will be above all else.

Sitting down, his servant stopped him and removed his boots. As he felt the bed give as you sat down on the other side of the bed, he glanced at you over his shoulder. His heart thudded harder.

Soon, both of you sat back he noticed they had undid the laces on your shoes as well. You both sat with your backs against the headboard. He reached out and took your glover hand. A sigh came from him as he felt you interlace your fingers.

Looking at you, he was about to speak when his door whispered open. Young women, he recognized from court and the like carried baskets filled with flowers. Then a silence fell over the room like a candle’s light being snuffed out as his mother walked in.

“May your marriage bed be blessed. May these flowers bless my son, Paul and his wife.”

Soon he watched as the young women with a gentle air scattered the petals of peonies, red lilies and almond blossoms that he had all seen being grown in the various gardens. Some were new transplants in the gardens. They had prickled his interest but figured it had been something his mother fancied and didn’t bother asking. Now it all made sense.

The petals fell here and there. Some fell on him, on you. Though neither of you moved to shrug them off. Though it certainly added an more colorful array in the room.

Once the girls were finished scattering the flowers, his mother clapped her hands the sharp sound, like thunder brought all eyes to her once again.

“Now, be loving and fruitful. May you consummate your wedding, your union.”

With a swish of her dress, she left and soon did the others. It was his private servant who he had for as long as he could remember give the final bow and closed the door.

His heart was beating harder then when he was crowned prince. He never had to worry about another. Now he did. Not letting go of your hand, he turned towards you; he saw how the flower petals had definitely fell upon you.

As your eyes met a soft laugh came from you. You brought a hand up to try and stifle it. Its sound and the twinkle in your eyes made his stop racing and it skipped.

Reaching, gently he pulled your hand away. “Don’t I like the sound of your laugh.” His voice after all the merriment and cheers was just above a whisper.

You flushed. “As you wish, my dear husband.”

He felt a tremble course through you as he still held your hand. He pressed his lips together.

“Beloved.”

He stopped. The word blossomed in his mouth but felt very good. Glancing, he saw the familiar pink dusting your cheek he had grown to enjoy seeing. He continued.

“If you wish to call me that you shall but you can call me Paul as well.”

You smile and nod. “I will enjoy hearing you call me beloved.” Your smile grew. “I shall see what comes from my heart.”

“I shall look forward to seeing how your heart speaks to me.”

He found himself moving closer to you. Some of the petals, fell in front of his eyes. He gave you a half smile, raising his eyebrows.

“Am I covered?“

You nod and you finally move closer.

It wasn’t long before you both were gently removing petals from here and there. Sharing a look, you both smiled as you realized how the petals had truly been rained down on the two of you.

As he looked at you, more then ever before did he want to kiss you. During the ceremony, it had not been enough.

“Beloved, would permit me to kiss you ?”

“Please.”

Gently, he cupping your soft cheek he easily caressed it with his thumb. “You are so beautiful.” He murmured and brought his lips to yours.

Soon he felt as your body was pressed against his. It felt so right, far better then anything he could have imagined.

With not a thought he reached up and winced. One of your hair pins pricked him. You parted, and she took your wounded hand.

“Oh, I am so sorry. Those pins can be horrible things.” His heart skipped once more as you placed a soft kiss on his wounded finger. “Shall I remove these dreadful things?”

He nodded. “Yes, though I do enjoy you holding my hand so.”

“I shall not be long.”

Going to one of his small tables he watched you. It dawned on him you were shorter then he realized. Your shoes had given you some height. It made him chuckle when he did, you paused.

“Yes, my dear husband ?”

Getting up then, he strode over. Seeing the difference then, he was amused.

“I never realized how much taller I was.”

“Oh? Oh!” You glanced at the mirror. “Yes, you are quite tall.”

“I am.” He was very amused.

Glancing down at your hair, he saw just how twisted and twined. It was lovely but now that he focused on it. He saw the complexity of it. “Shall I risk being wounded again and help you?”

“Only if you wish it? My lady in waiting showed me how to do and undo my hair.”

“Handy for when she is not around.”

You nodded. “Yes.”

Soon bejeweled pins, silken ribbons were in a small pile. Your hair fell in soft waves down your back. It was a lovely as the rest of you.

Gently, having seen it in paintings and even read it in stories, he pulled you close. Soon your lips met once again. So soft. Distantly, he could taste the sweets you had enjoyed over the course of the celebrations.

******

Easily far easier then he had expected he shed his most of his clothes and found himself laying beside you. Clad, in only his undershirt and breeches he marveled at finally seeing the silhouette of your curves that were a shadow under your chemise.

His passions had been steadily growing, though he didn’t want to cause you any distress. The afternoon, when the physician had inspected you in such a cold, reserved manner still caused a chill in him.

He eased himself up onto his elbow. “Beloved. It is not because of our duty or even tradition, though I do hold those very dear.”

He gently ran his fingers along your arm that rested on your side. “I wish I could have learned, grew along his side but I did not. However, I do wish you to know that ever since I saw you. My heart took flight.”

“Oh, Paul it was the same for me.” By surprise you took his hand and your soft lips on his knuckles made little blossoms of pleasure bloom within in him.

“Then shall we became one tonight and forever?” He tilted his head and met your eyes.

“Yes, till the end.”

He climbed and settled between your legs. With your help, he brought your chemise to your waist. Once you were free of your undergarment, you gently shook. He paused.

“Beloved ?”

You looked away.

“Don’t look away from me. I am your husband.”

He bit the inside of his cheek. His voice came out harsher then he expected.

Your eyes were big as you looked back at him.

“I had not meant to sound so angry.” He grimaced. “I am just as nervous as you are. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I understand softly. I am just scared it will hurt.” You admitted.

“I won’t let happen or last. We are together forever, I us to have a union of love.”

The hatred and angst his mother had rained down on him was not what he wanted with you. He was already so fond of you

“Then, yes let us become one.”

He shook himself as he finally opened his breeches and released his arousal. His stomach knotted the more as his need for you grew.

Bracing himself on the bed beside you, he leaned in close. “Perhaps, if we share a a kiss, our union won’t bring as much pain.” He softly suggested, meeting your eyes.

The kiss had felt so good. It would surely lessen any effect of him filling you and making the two of you one.

“Yes, lets try.” You whispered back.

Gently, he rubbed himself against you. Thoughts of coming undone right there was almost possibly. It was by far of the best things he had ever felt in his life. Distantly he became aware that you clung onto him made him feel so powerful.

It only made the sensation of him gently sliding into you better as he kissed you. Blinking, he looked at you as he felt you tremble; your breathes were hard and hot but they were followed by eager kisses he tried to desperately meet. Once he was enveloped by you he paused to gather his breath and make sure you were ok.

“Beloved.” Though he meant it to be a question it came out more of a statement for the pleasure that throbbed around his arousal.

“I’m good. It hurt but its much better now.”

He rested his forehead against yours gently. “As you wish.”

He began to move then. Sounds came from you and him, they also became one. He felt as you tightened below him making him really see you once again through the haze of his pleasure. Your grip tightened before fluttered around his member, and soon he lost what little control he had managed to hold onto, and he soon called out a mixture of your name and the pet name that became so normal for him in such a short amount of time. He emptied himself inside of you. Gasping he melted against your softness. And soon with a strangled, pleasure filled breath he managed to then settle beside you for worry of crushing or hurting. He laid their panting. His curls and body soaked in sweat.

*******

Later, the candles having burned low. He found you nestled against him and soundly asleep. It was alien to him but you were so soft, and beautiful and he enjoyed the sight, it made his heart swell. He managed to pull up a blanket and cover the two of you before falling back into the velvety blackness of sleep.

@laura-naruto-fan1998 @amethyst-serenade

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dandelion-blues · 3 months

Text

I was Never the Gods’ Hero

Intro:

Percy Jackson just wanted a break. He didn't ask to be favored by ancient beings. He didn't want to be a hero, he needed to, but here he is expected to be a hero again! And in another universe already filled with heroes to boot!

Percy Jackson x DC crossover fanfic

Chapter 1

Gasping, clawing, trembling for air. He can't breathe! His hands are on his throat gasping desperately for oxygen. The all-encompassing pressure surrounds him from every inch of his body, suffocating and consuming him. It's a thick and oppressive void of blackness where there is no color, no light, and no hope. It's a parasyte waiting to consume, where it's solid in the freezing, crushing pressure that cracks his bones and liquid as it oozes into his skin and feasts itself in his blood and lungs and brain. It lets him feel everything all at once, all of his nerves alight with agony as they are targeted too slowly and individually, yet numbing his body in less than a second.

It is still too slow! It felt as neverending and unrelenting cycle of continual pain and torture. More torment than even Styx could give to her river.

Then, as the pressure finally grinds his bones and organs to sand, and freezes and suffocates him molecule by molecule, there is the blinding light, electrifying and raging. It renews his once frozen and distorted body instantly to energize him with a thousand suns, making his body a inferno of heat and agony. His numbness shocked back into awareness with a potency much greater than lightning that sears though his being. Only, for his eyes to see light before they burn away to husks of ashes along with his skin, blood, and bones.

Over and over again, this cycle of crushing darkness and searing light, all at once and yet separate at the same time. He feels as if he is dying and given life all at once. He is pulled apart then put back together again and again. His very atoms pulled apart and then back together.

If he were given even a second to breathe he might even notice how when he was torn apart and put back together he wasn’t put back the same… how he no longer bled red, and how his very senses and being enhanced; to be more than human. However, all he felt was the agony, shocking and suffocating and burning. Percy Jackson just wanted it to end!

Ichor

Red blood of mortality,

Tastes sweet with immortality.

Colors were in shades of gray,

Enhanced through his decay.

Gold was for the riches,

Now in his blood so much it itches.

A mother's son forever since,

Crowned a God's prince.

…………………………………………….

Percy woke up, tremors racking his body. A silent scream tore at his throat, his heart pounding in his chest.

What was that?!

He looked widely around the dark room, his body high on alert, but still he wasn't prepared for the being awaiting him the darkness behind him.

The being cradled Percy and forced him back to sleep, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“It's too soon,” the being whispered.

The ‘dream’ all but forgotten the next day as Percy awoke in the morning in his home in Manhattan, New York.

Still Percy’s nightmares weren't just in his dreams. They have been a part of his life ever since he was introduced, since he was born, as a half-blood.

……………………………………………

Percy Jackson was done with the Greco-Roman pantheon. He fought and won their wars, and watched so many people, kids - Hades he was still a kid - die around him and he almost died too many times to count while the Gods did the bare minimum to just save themselves, for him to deal with any of their shit again. Yet, here he was, packing up traveling bags to see his father in Atlantis. Oh, he might have forgotten to mention that his father is Poseidon the Earthshaker, Stormbringer, and Father of Horses (yeah, all horses are Percy’s thousand time removed nephews and nieces, but best not to think about that) and don’t forget the God of the Sea.

Percy was just celebrating his seventeenth birthday with his Mom and Paul in their apartment when his Dad just showed up! He’s pulled this before on Percy’s fifteenth birthday, but Percy thought that was a once in a life-time thing. Gods don’t just show up for their kids! Then, his Dad pulls him into his room and proceeds to invite Percy to Atlantis in a week in order to get to know his godly side of the family better and relax without having to deal with the stress of being a leader for both camps.

At first, Percy just wanted to tell him no and tell him to leave, because where was his Father when he needed him, but the little self preservation that Percy had told him that would be a terrible idea to anger one of the Gods that was on his side. Plus, Chiron sent him home to take a break and heal; that there was enough help at the camps to rebuild and he could tell Percy was not okay and needed a break from being a leader. Then, Percy also thought of Tyson, his little cyclops brother, and Percy caved. Thus, Percy told Poseidon that he’d love to come. Poseidon got a wide smile on his face, and hugged Percy and told him how excited he was for Percy to come. Then, Poseidon just transported away.

Percy remembered his Dad’s genuine excitement and warm hug, and that made him smile that maybe it would be worth it to go to Atlantis and be with his Dad. Percy was also excited to really see Atlantis, after all it’s been a while (a year) since the end of their war with Oceanus, and surely more would be rebuilt now. Restored to some of its former glory.

Some part of him, though, was incredibly worried about his step-mother Amphritrite’s, and his brother Triton's judgment even though they became closer after the second Titan war when he came to Atlantis on the weekends - it was only for three months a blink in the time of immortals. Not to mention Kym, she just tried to kill him! Then, Percy was angry, because what right did the Gods have to judge him and treat him like scum just because he was born and that he had to work extra hard just for them to treat him indifferently! However, Percy was raised by Sally Jackson and he would do his best to be nice and polite until they crossed a line, respect was earned after all.

(Also, Percy thought secretly, hopefully, that maybe he could have a big brother to look up to and train with, and a step-mother to confide in.)

Then, came the part of explaining the trip to Atlantis to his mother. Yeah, that was fun to explain to his mom, especially when this was the first time Percy has been able to see her in almost a year thanks to a certain Cow Queen (aka the Queen of Olympus, Hera). Luckily, Sally Jackson is a queen amongst women and understood that Percy needed a break, and that maybe this would turn out really good for him.

…………………………………………….

Sally saw how her baby came back littered with more scars, haunted eyes, and worn down from life that no one, especially a teenager, should feel. Gods, when Sally first saw her son at that door, she held onto him for dear life and they both ended up crying and falling asleep in each other's arms on the couch because they couldn’t let go of each other, at least until Paul came home and joined the hug pile. Sally quietly wiped a tear from her eye at letting Percy out of her sight so soon, but she knew a demigod’s life was never without chaos, and he deserved to get to know his father. Maybe he would confide in his father what was haunting him, that maybe Poseidon would understand and help. Sally heard Percy’s screams when he woke up in the middle of the night, and his flinches from sudden touches - flinches that were going away as reminders from that monster of ex-husband, Gabe Ugliano.

Gods, Sally Jackson wished she never married him. She thought that she protected her son by having Gabe’s horrendous smell protect Percy from monsters, then sending Percy away to boarding schools to be away from Gabe and his terrible influence, but no the real monster lived with them all along. Sally Jackson had to work two jobs just to make ends meet, and would often end up having to leave Percy alone in the house when Percy was home, and Gabe used that opportunity to abuse her son! She never saw the signs, she thought it was bullies or having to change schools every year, but no it was her ex-husband. She was too focused on protecting him from the divine world, that she wasn't able to protect him from Gabe! She could remember all clear as day when Percy, just having turned thirteen, and finished his first quest, flinched and curled in on himself when a loud drunk man walked by them when going home. She proceeded to question him when they got home, remembering all too well her own tells, and he told her how Gabe beat him, berated him, and humiliated him.

The next thing Percy says, Sally remembers word for word when she asks why he didn’t tell her, “I thought I was p-protecting you mom,” he sea-green eyes shined with tears, “G-gabe said that if I said anything to a-anyone he would b-beat y-you t-too,” he gasps and his breath hitches from crying and closes his eyes. Then, he looks up to Sally, and gives her a look that breaks her heart, “B-but I failed y-you, I saw you f-flinch, M-mom. I-I couldn’t protect you!” It was then that Sally knew that she failed as a mother, and proceeded to tell him that it was her job to protect him, and that she failed, that she loved him and there was nothing that he could do that could change that.

From then on, Percy and Sally began to confide in each other their traumas of Gabe, but Sally could still tell he was holding back, trying to protect her. He still barely told her anything of his quests, and Sally just wished that he didn’t inherit her stubbornness and selflessness, but Gods Percy made her so proud and heartbroken at the same time because he is so strong and so so good, and that is Sally's Jackson's son, dammit!

However, he is also Poseidon's son, and with that unfortunately comes monsters and tragedy that Sally can only understand the bare minimum of either through her own research or of Percy's own recounts, heck even when Sally sees the monsters they just ignore her.

'Hopefully, Poseidon can protect her baby. Afterall, hasn't he done more than enough, he deserves a break and to be with his father. I just hope this trip to Atlantis will be good for him,' thinks Sally as she watches Percy pack his things.

…………………………………………….

Percy finishes putting the last items in his bag and looks up to his mother. She has a few more gray hairs and wrinkles around her eyes and forehead, but she looks so full of life especially when Percy came back. He feels terrible for leaving her again even if she said that it was more than alright. Percy is just so tired of the divine world, but he still loves his father even when he's mad at him - he's just so tired of being scared and alone and wants to feel safe again! Safe like he felt in his father's cabin before Hera kidnapped him. Safe in his mother's arms from when he was young and she protected him from monsters and bullies.

Percy takes a breath, and says tentatively "Mom?" Sally's deep blue eyes look into Percy's and soften, "Yes, seastar?" Just with Percy's nickname he smiles, and states, "Mom, how… how do I learn to not be afraid?"

Sally blue eyes water, “Oh my baby!” Sally grasps Percy's hands, his eyes looking down at the floor.

“Sometimes that fear will always be with you,” Sally remembered Gabe's beer-filled breathe as he leered over her, but then she thought of her family, her son and smiled, “but then I remembered all the things, the people, that make me happy, and I know that they be there for me. That I am loved.” Sally gently squeezes her son’s hands, and he looks up at her, “And baby I love you, and I’ll be here for you no matter what. So will Paul, your friends, and your father. We are here for you Percy.”

Percy’s green eyes swim with tears and he runs into his mom’s gasp as she opens her arms. He hugs her, a few tears escaping his eyes, but he feels all so loved.

“Thanks mom,” Percy says wetly and smiles after it feels as if they hugged for hours.

“Of course seastar,” Sally smiles back, "I love you so much, and I'll be right here when you get back."

Just then, a knock on the front door is heard. ‘What timing?’ both think and smile once again to one another.

Sally goes to open the door, and Percy follows shortly behind with his bag strapped around his back, and Poseidon greets them both at the door.

“Hello my dear Sally, beautiful as ever I see,” Poseidon winks playfully at Sally. Percy is to say the least, mortified.

“Ah son I see you’re all packed and ready, then let's make haste, I have a celebration planned in Atlantis!” Poseidon exclaims.

“Celebration?!” Percy exclaims.

“Of course my son, the Prince, is visiting after so long, a celebration is due of course.” Poseidon states.

“Prince?!” Percy yells, what is happening right now?!

Luckily Sally intervenes before anything can escalate, “Now boys, I know you're excited,” she says pointedly to Poseidon, “but Percy would have appreciated being notified about what he is doing instead of just forcing him into the spotlight like that.”

“Also, what’s this about Percy being a prince?”

Poseidon looks sheepish, “I’m sorry my dear, well I was just really excited that Percy agreed to visit and well one thing led to another, and after all Percy’s done for us, we agreed Percy should officially be crowned a Prince of Atlantis.”

Percy looks faint, luckily Poseidon notices and says, “It’s just an official ceremony and announcing it to the kingdom officially, but afterwards we can keep the party small to just family and close friends.” Poseidon, despite seeming oblivious, did notice that his son was never comfortable with the crowds for Olympus’s parties.

Percy smiles relieved at his dad, “Alright, I think I can manage that.”

Poseidon claps, “Alright, it’s really time we should go.”

Percy nods and gives his mom one last hug, melting into her embrace reassured in her love, but for some reason he felt like this would be their last hug for a very long time. Percy shrugs this off, surely he’ll be fine in the heart of his father’s domain, especially with no war or anything worrying going on.

…………………………………………….

A chuckle escapes an ancient being, their laugh reverberating throughout the lives held so tightly by the Fates.

“My young dear always had a knack for his future, didn't he? So powerful, so pure.” Their laugh echoing through the stars and galaxies, all mortal’s hearts beating in tandem.

“He’ll forever be Destiny’s chosen, after all.” Another being wrys, her smile so much like a serpent, so wide it could eat the world whole, “Perseus, my destroyer of my fates. You never could be confined by their roles, and it’s almost time for you to break free, to grasp your destiny!” Her light fills the darkness, lighting her descendants precious tapestry golden.

“Indeed, it’s Time,” The other being states, their word ineffable as the universe, as the past, present, and future are all ruled by the passage of Time.

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