#frollo x reader

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Frollo in a relationship - Age gap

Frollo x fem!reader

warning: age gap (Frollo is in his 50s, reader in her 20s), kissing, obsession, religion fanatic, Frollo is Frollo

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He was a man of the public eye and had to leave his estate for every festival and get out of the carriage to present himself to the masses.

It was an activity of his profession that he despised with every fibre of his body, even in court when he used the gavel to get some peace and quiet and pronounce his judgement he felt only partially comfortable.

The miserable pleading and weeping, the protestations of innocence...no one was innocent, no one in this sin-ridden city could be innocent.

Undesirable encounter

Part.2 (Claude Frollo X Reader)

A/N: Hi dear, sorry for the delay, I said I would do it hehehe. I wanted to thank you readers for your support and I didn't expect the first part to get so many views (I'm surprised, almost 500 notes) and a lot of people asked me for the sequel so I do. I did it with my best friend @thefanofnotredame, I hope you like it❤️. {If you haven't seen part one, it's here}

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It was morning, around 8 or 9 o'clock. You were already awake, but in your room. It was hard to stop thinking about the judge's fateful and unwelcome appearance in your store. As you sat in front of the window in a wooden chair, you sipped a hot drink in front of the only light in your room, which was white and dramatic, melancholy.

What made you think even more about the whole situation was the fact that tonight you were supposed to go to the palace of justice and deliver the damn cloak and pair of gloves to Frollo in person. The whole thing was uncomfortable, almost dark. Just thinking about that man's touch on your hands again... Argh! How horrible. But at the same time, there was something very... peculiar about the look in his eyes from before. That look that touched you - almost literally - with all that malice; it was almost a trap for something that, suddenly, in front of your bedroom window, began to attract you very much, almost like hypnosis.

Realizing that you were already too absorbed in your own thoughts and near delusions, you quickly shook your head and left the window, heading for your closet so you could change your clothes.

At the same time as this was happening, on the other side of town, the judge was in his palace of justice and completely isolated in his office. No guards entered or left where he was. He walked from side to side, looking like he was going to go mad at any moment. He wasn't even wearing his judge's clothes, just a baggy white shirt with brown pants, which stuck to his legs, and black shoes.

The judge seemed troubled by something he couldn't solve. A legal case? Criminals and murderers going wild in the streets of La Cité? No, it was something else. It was a person who kept him awake.

After meeting that seamstress for the first time, he couldn't stop seeing her in his dreams, his morning thoughts or even his everyday actions. He felt that she was following him in everything he did.

How? How could a woman of such a low class, compared to his own, bewitch the man of God? He looked out of the window at the grayish-white light and wondered: How could he, the judge who had humiliated her, look her in the eye again? Was he the one who was being embarrassing or was he the one getting embarrassed by the way the young woman looked? Everything - all those questions drove him crazy. He wanted to isolate himself from all these thoughts, because he knew that God could easily hear them at any time.

Frollo really had to do something about all those feelings. He couldn't get rid of them, either by shouting at the guards or by making a cruel judgment on some criminal. "God, what has this woman done to me?" the man asked himself, distressed and sitting down in the chair in front of his desk in his elegant office.

Suddenly, someone knocked on his door.

“Come in.” The judge answered, giving the person permission to enter his office, putting his arms on the table and placing a hand on his forehead, almost rolling his eyes with hatred.

One of his guards poked his head into the office, spying on the judge for a few seconds and then entering the office completely, closing the door behind him. The guard looked nervous, worried, but maybe it was just the way this place and the judge made him feel:

“Speak up. What happened?” Frollo asked, looking at the guard.

“Sir, we've already dealt with the problem.”

“What problem?” He asked, distracted and staring at the table with old paperwork and a pot of ink with an exaggeratedly large black quill.

“The problem, sir. With that bandit from a few days ago. He confessed that he stole a lot more than we thought, can you believe it? Jewelry, shoes.”

“Yes, and?” He lifted a sheet of paper from the pile, looking at some words. With that answer, the guard was startled.

“...what do you mean, sir?” The guard asked, almost in shock. “We've been trying to get a word out of this thug for days! He's so strong.”

“Are you finished?”

When the judge cut off the guard's speech in such a rude way, he raised his head at him with a very annoyed expression, as if he hadn't wanted to hear a word the young man had said:

“I don't care about this guy anymore. He's given us enough trouble. Throw him with those rabble of prisoners, tramps and criminals! Let's have a trial with him another day.” Rolling his eyes at the papers again, he pulled out one of the sheets and read it. He showed no real interest on it, not a single one, and the guard realized this quickly, frowning downwards.

“Sir, is something wrong?”

“Hm?” He moved his head to look at the guard, totally inattentive and with his mind on something else.

“You seem... I don't know... discouraged? We were too focused on the bandit issue.”

“I just lost interest, I have more important things to worry about.” The judge replied dryly and sighed. “I'll be receiving a seamstress tonight at the palace of justice, stay tuned and let me know if she arrives.”

“Oh, yes, the seamstress... as far as she's concerned, we didn't hear from her this morning. So, just to be on the safe side, we'll check on her later, since the delivery won't be until the evening. What do you think, sir?”

In the blink of an eye, the judge raised his head to look at the guard, almost as fast as a drop. He widened his eyes and almost let his mouth open wider than it should have, just for finally being able to talk about that subject that had only been stuck in his head and that was finally hanging over their conversation. "Oh, what a relief!", thought the older man to himself:

“I think it's very good, lieutenant.” He said, already with a slightly shrewd and debauched expression, arranging his arms on the table and placing an elbow against the surface near the papers, putting a hand under his chin, holding his head. “Well, you remember that she was suspected of helping and harboring those gypsies, don't you?”

“Yes, sir…”

“When you go there, keep an eye out if you happen to see any gypsies in that store. Make sure she's actually doing something good, because I don't want her to cheat me, or even try to.”

“But why would a mere seamstress have bad intentions towards you?”

Suddenly, Frollo cast a very threatening glance at the guard, slowly getting up from his chair and resting his hands on the table:

“You're not thinking of denying my order, are you?”

“B-But, sir, I…”

“Are you?”

The guard, his eyes wide with fear, began to stutter and placed part of his hand against his forehead, making a sign of obedience to an order:

“I'm not, sir!” He spoke, almost fearing for his life and looking up so as not to have his soul ripped out by his eyes.

“Good…” The judge sat down as if it were nothing and looked at the rest of the paperwork. “Go and see the girl and bring me news. I want it to be quick and brief, unless you want to join the bandit in being tortured too.”

“Y-Yes, sir…”

“Oh! You want that?...” The evil man cut the guard off abruptly, mocking his nervousness with an evil smile, while still looking at the papers and the table.

“I-I don't want to, sir, I mean...I...I'm going”

The poor man, practically submissive in his position, left the judge's office in almost the blink of an eye, afraid of being sentenced right there.

Even though the judge delighted in such agony coming from a 'little man' like the one in front of him a few seconds ago, he slowly wiped the smile off his face, because the image of the lady sewing appeared in his mind again. "What a curse, what torture! She must be a witch, that's for sure. That woman can't get out of my head, she's like a needle stuck in my skull!"

And so it went with the man, slowly becoming anguished inside every time he thought of the beautiful seamstress. In the blink of an eye, it was afternoon.

The seamstress kept moving around and always ended up bumping into one place or another, injuring herself on her frames and arms. All this was happening because she was so anxious, even if it was only to make a pair of gloves and a cape. After many restless minutes, you finally sat down to sew:

“Damn judge, damn man... he could ask for these things anywhere else, but no! He wants to torture me, to punish me with his hypocritical, petty, mean 'justice'!” The seamstress complained nervously as she touched up the fingertips of the glove.

Suddenly, you began to feel watched, so you decided to look up and were startled: a guard, not at all discreetly, was watching you through the window pane. It was the usual clumsy man, of course, but the fact that he was - of course - directly sent by Frollo made your blood bubble even more. Since you couldn't take your anger out on the man, you looked down after a few seconds and gritted your teeth with your mouth closed, but with your lips visibly curved, showing that you weren't happy at all.

It also made you a little tense and one of the reasons was that a gypsy woman was hiding with her daughter in the basement of your store, if they came out of there now, that would be it, but on the one hand you were a little relieved that they came before the guard arrived and stared at you at the door. It seems that Frollo knew what you were up to.

The poor woman was fighting against time. As she passed the thread and needle through the fabrics, she didn't realize that it was - almost literally - going by faster than the day. Even with blood, sweat and hatred, she finished her work and let out a great sigh, taking the air into her lungs as if it was the first time she had done this all day.

When you raised your head, to your surprise, it was still late. The sun was still setting and the sky was slowly losing its reddish hue. Ah, that was enough to blow your mind.

“... I can't believe it.” You said, almost without blinking and with a look of disbelief at the situation, looking sideways and putting a hand to your forehead. “My God... how? It can't be!”

Good. Now you had to wait until the evening. Of course, it would be just as bad if you ended things at short notice, but... waiting anxiously for that meeting with the man to happen was torture. Since when are you punished for beating the clock?

“DAMN!” You shouted, groaning in anguish and getting away from your desk to go somewhere else. “If he doesn't ask for me to be picked up with his carriage, he's going to hear some good shit! Sending some little guy to put pressure on me?! Well, how inconsiderate…”

And you kept talking as you paced back and forth as soon as you stood up, but you realized that time wasn't going to go any faster if you kept muttering your discontent. You had to calm down or you'd go mad. The seamstress decided to make herself a cup of tea in an attempt to calm her nerves and read a book so that time would pass more quickly.

*****

Night fell. The streets were dark; along with the curfew that had begun to apply earlier in the day in the city. As expected, no carriages passed your store. Well, what a surprise, huh?

Before the curfew started, the Romani woman and her daughter said they were going out, you insisted that they stay and come back to the Court of Miracles only in the morning, but they didn't want to bother you, so, to be safer, you recommended that they go out the back.

The seamstress was sorting out the judge's gloves and cape. After that, being a vain woman, you meticulously checked in your mirror that you looked good, that your dress fit you well and that your hairstyle was impeccable. Why this excessive concern? You didn't know, you had no idea.

Draping a shawl over your shoulders, you left your store and began the lonely walk to the palace of justice with the package. The cold evening breeze touched your face, the beginning of winter in Paris. Walking through the streets, you could see the stores and markets closing and residents heading for their homes, respecting the curfew while guards stood on every street corner, ready to arrest anyone who was bold enough to break the judge's rule.

Little did the seamstress know that, from afar, Claude Frollo was staring at her from one of the tower windows of his comfortable office, while you had to walk to where the man was. Poor woman, isn't she? Covering herself with a shawl so desperately not to be seen... wait. A shawl? Oh. Oh, my goodness.

When the man realized that you were wearing something to cover your bust and shoulders, he widened his eyes and walked backwards in surprise, but then began to make a serious, fearful expression. His mind started having those thoughts again, those unconscious and absurd thoughts.

With each passing second of waiting, the judge felt as if his self-control was going to fail him at any moment and almost threw himself into the chair behind his desk as he sat down, trapped in his sinful reverie. His body suddenly began to heat up, irritation gradually took hold of him and he regained his composure.

Finally, the girl reached the gates of the Palace of Justice. The guards who were there soon saw her:

“Is this in your hands the order of Judge Claude Frollo?” One of the tall men asked.

“Yes, he said to meet him now.”

“Very good.” He replied.

The men opened the doors of the place and you entered, almost quickly, making the men close the door faster than usual too, with his hands still on the thick iron rods. At that moment, they looked at each other and made a strange expression, with their faces a little closer:

“Is that pretty girl the seamstress?” The guard on the left asked, almost whispering.

“Yes, she's really pretty. But I didn't know that women could run their own business without their husband's supervision.” replied the one on the right, causing the one on the left to make a slightly annoyed expression.

“Yeah... I don't even know if they can, not like that. The crazy judge must have made her do something for him on purpose, just to embarrass her.”

While the men gossiped about the strange situation, you walked around the place with a somewhat cowed look on your face. The place seemed too gloomy to be focused on justice, almost like a gloomy marquis' castle, full of guards and torches in every corner. You looked up and the ceiling was higher than that of any house or mansion, and the colors were too dark to distinguish at that time. The seamstress began to walk faster and arrived at the judge's office. Anger gradually overcame you at the knowledge that you would have to see this man's face again and you regained your posture, taking a deep breath and knocking on the door, then hearing that authoritative, harsh voice you knew all too well saying "Come in"

If it wasn't already clear enough that night fell faster than a stone before, it would be even more so now, precisely because of the moonbeams invading the man's office, his face being the first thing you could see. When you entered the office and closed the large wooden door behind you, you could see the place around you better and even noticed a small fireplace burning in the corner of the room:

“Good evening, sir.” You said seriously, trying not to be nervous, but it was a little obvious, and you couldn't let go of the delivery in your sweat-damp hands.

Frollo simply looked at you without changing his cold expression. After watching you arrive through the window, he quickly changed and put on only his big judge's cloak over his ordinary ones.

“Finally.”

He slowly got up from his chair and put one hand on the table, leaning on it and stepping out from behind it, putting his arms behind him. You put the bag with the delivery on his desk, without looking at his face:

“Since I didn't take your measurements, I ended up using a previous client's size just for a base, but I can correct it if it doesn't fit.”

“Well, but, seamstress…” The judge quickly countered, in a false and mocking tone just to bother you. “How am I supposed to know, or rather feel, that this is the right size? My fingers aren't like any other man's…”

“By putting them on.” You answered in a tone as if you were stating the obvious, your gaze going to him now as you held the long cape.

With that answer, he made an offended expression for a second, but quickly rolled his eyes and closed them, taking a deep breath. As if nothing was wrong, he walked towards her and stood in front of her, looking haughty.

“Be brief. Let's see the package I ordered.”

The woman had to hold back the urge to roll her eyes in disgust at his haughty air of superiority. You showed him the cape, he could see a little of it from the fireplace:

“I made it from the pattern that would look best on you, in my opinion.” The cape seemed to be made of two fabrics, burgundy on the inside and black on the outside.

The man looked closely at the cape, even took it in his hands and brushed his fingers against your for a brief second, coughing in a discreet and slightly embarrassed way, a little electricity and adrenaline coursing through his body at the slightest touch, which, deep down, he craved. He disguised it:

“Not bad. Silk?”

“Yes, sir…” You nodded. “Can you turn around, please?” He was a little suspicious of your request and you held back a sigh. You couldn't believe that you had to explain everything to him. “To see if the size is correct.”

“That's fine.” He said irreverently.

As he turned, Frollo felt the girl's delicate hands brushing against his skin again, but this time on his neck - which made him clench his jaw as he closed his eyes. He didn't know if it was a common agony at being touched by commoners or if it was something beyond his own self-centeredness. And yet, the seamstress had no idea what her touch was doing to him, after all, she was only being professional:

“Is the length good, or would you prefer it shorter?” You asked, breaking the silence.

“It's perfect.” He answered quickly, as if he was going to have a fit.

You then removed your hands from around his neck and shoulders, folding the cloak and placing it on the table. Frollo could still feel the small flaming trail of the girl's hand on his body, which made him miss it a little and yearn for more. When he turned around, the seamstress was taking the black gloves out of the bag and he immediately held out his left hand to you, who found this strange since he could put them on by himself.

"Look at that." you thought a little annoyed as you put the glove on his hand. "He's so inconvenient... how can he be? He wants me to act like his maid, doesn't he? Do you think I'm honored to serve you? Idiot judge..."

“So, sir?” You asked, turning your gaze to his and pretending to look calm “Are you satisfied?”

“With what?” He asked, slightly startled and almost wide-eyed.

“...with the gloves and the cape, sir.” You answered, confused by his reaction and holding your hands together, your arms against your hips in a formal way. You even blinked a little, trying to understand the situation.

“Oh, yes. They're suitable…”

He answered in such a strange way that it only made the seamstress think that he wasn't in the best condition to be seen at that moment, as if he was bothered by your presence or even that he didn't really like your delivery at all. You didn't care, but deep down you were worried about something, you felt bad and it wasn't just because of the energy of the palace of justice or the man in front of you:

“I think it's over here. The value was eight pieces of silver.”

“Before you go, seamstress, I want to clarify a few things...”

Frollo spoke as he moved away from you, going to the door and turning the key in the lock. You watched this action and a shiver ran down your spine, your body frozen with fear and anxiety. By instinct, you took a step backwards and your hips ended up resting on the edge of the table, trapping you:

“Do you think you can outsmart me?” He put his hands together as soon as he closed the door, approaching you but standing at a ‘respectable’ distance.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know very well what I'm talking about, seamstress.” He spoke with hatred in his eyes.

“This Romani business again?” You asked, defensively and looking him up and down in disbelief. He couldn't have found out... “I told you I didn't help anyone and you searched my store.”

The older man didn't hold back his laughter when he saw you insisting on the lie. He had you trapped now, like a fly caught in a spider's web with no way out. He continued:

“You're a brazen viper…”

“Your Honor, despite your position, I will not accept being called that. If you want to have a normal conversation with me, at least be respectful.”

This took him by surprise. He hated that boldness, especially coming from a commoner like you - who had defied him before. His blood boiled with both hatred and lust as he recalled the moment before the first time he had been in your store, remembering how defiant you had been, but also your hands touching at that moment. Out of anger, Frollo stepped closer, taking heavy steps and cornered you, resting his hands on the table on either side of you. Your breath caught in your throat and you opened your eyes wide in fear and surprise:

“You're the one who owes me respect here, and don't change the subject. I sent one of my men to your store and received news that didn't leave me stunned: Two gypsies coming out of the back of your store... what do you have to say about that?”

It shocked you. You've been found out. Fucking guard...

Your heartbeat was racing from the truth being discovered and the proximity of the man, which caused you fear, nervousness and anxiety, leaving your legs weak. Claude laughed a little when he saw her silence and her expression and continued:

“It's a shame to see you lying and risking your life to save that gypsy scum who doesn't deserve such kindness…”

“Get away!” You murmured a little frightened and he didn't move, overwhelmed by hatred and the little lust present.

“Viper sorceress... What do you have to say about it? What's your defense?”

You put your hands on his chest, preventing him from coming any closer. He practically spat those words out of the hatred he felt for being tricked. With your movement, the shawl on your shoulders came down a little, the judge's heart pounded and he swallowed dry at the sight in front of him. As frightened as you were, you noticed that look on yout shoulders and that expression of disgust, but at the same time so lascivious... Then you realized something in his previous words that made you confused:

“Sorceress? Why are you accusing me of witchcraft? What evidence do you have against that?” You asked in a defiant and angry tone.

“There's no point in denying your crimes!”

“I'm not denying it, I'm not denying that I lied! And yes, I tried to save those Romanis, but I won't accept false accusations of witchcraft... What proof do you have against me? Tell me!”

The man froze. He just stared at you as if you were something that frightened him, or even something that he just wanted to touch. He looked as if he was going to pounce on the seamstress at any moment, as if she were prey. That animalistic feeling grew inside him even more under the moonlight and the light of the fireplace, the two of them staring at each other as if any false move would end in disaster.

Suddenly, the judge looked down in a reflective manner, his gaze almost trembling, while the sound of the wood burning became deafening and the flame that burned it seemed to be less warm than the sensation they both felt in their bodies, heating them up with adrenaline. He muttered something, but you couldn't hear it, which annoyed you a little and you asked seriously:

“What did you say? Speak loud and clear, what have you got against me?!”

“You've bewitched me!” He vociferated with hatred in his voice, and continued. “You've made me, a man of God, desire you as you've never desired anyone. The love of a convict!”

You were both silent for a few seconds, weighed down by the weight of your emotions, you stunned and he foolish:

“I don't know what kind of witchcraft you've done, seamstress, but you're driving me crazy. I've been thinking about you from the moment I laid eyes on you... and your shoulders... and your hands...” He turned a little to the side, looking at his hands gleaming in the firelight. “... So lacking in discipline and obedience, so blatantly... How could that attract me? It felt like a thousand demons were attacking me, with visions of a woman flashing through my mind and my eyes, and this woman… was you.”

He looked at the reddish fire in the fireplace with a little difficulty, intense. A reflection of his repressed emotions being exposed, in the midst of a chaos that could no longer be controlled. You were in shock. A shock so tremendous that you were speechless at such accusations, your heart racing like the judge in front of you, you felt hatred, but also pity... why?

You came out of your thoughts when you felt his hand in contact with yours that was resting on the table, squeezing it as if you were some kind of possession of his and his thumb caressing the back of your hand:

“But I can forgive you for this crime and pretend that nothing happened…”

He whispered close to your ear, his warm breath in contact with your neck making you shiver. Because he was so close, Frollo could smell the perfume on your neck. You asked, challenging him:

“And who are you to think that your forgiveness is so important to me? God, by any chance?”

With that answer, anger took over the judge's body and he gripped your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him, who had fire in his eyes. His fingers squeezed your cheeks:

“I swear to God, I'm going to break your arrogance, woman.”

Unexpectedly, you were surprised by a kiss on the lips before you could say anything else. Your eyes widened at the unexpected action and you tried to pull away, but he wouldn't budge; on the contrary, he pushed you harder against the table. You hated yourself for the next move…

In a second, you closed your eyes and returned the judge's kiss. Even though it was a rough, hateful kiss, it intensified, bringing out a confusing mixture of sensations. Frollo's hand, which was on your chin, slid down your face until it reached your neck, squeezing lightly, but not enough to suffocate you, so that a moan came from you. He took advantage of this moment to enter your mouth with his tongue, exploring it. An uncontrollable and overwhelming desire dominated them both, and they didn't care about anything else at that moment.

You broke off the kiss to catch your breath. You were confused by what had just happened and Frollo stared at every part of your face; your eyes, your slightly rosy cheeks and your beautiful expression... Frollo's hand didn't leave your neck, as if he wanted to show some kind of dominance there.

The two of you get closer and closer again, as if you were hypnotized and surrendering to lust to start another kiss. A sudden noise comes from the office door, which causes the judge to quickly let go of the woman and move away, pretending nothing has happened and his stern demeanor returning, but still with suspicion and desire present:

“Come in.” he allowed, before clearing his throat. And you quickly recovered before the door opened, straightening the skirt of your dress and draping your shawl over your shoulder.

The door opened to reveal the guard, who, upon entering, hesitated slightly as he realized that he didn't seem welcome at the moment. Even so, he insisted on saying something:

“Hello, sir… and miss.” Said the man, confused. “Am I in the way?”

“Be brief…” Frollo sighed and ran a hand through his gray hair.

The soldier looked at them both briefly with trepidation and decided to look away, trying to avoid the tension in the air.

“Well, er…” Before continuing, he coughed “I just wanted to ask your permission to start training this afternoon because we've been waiting and…”

He started babbling on about it, as well as being brief as he ordered, which irritated the judge, an irritation visible in his eyes. Frollo just nodded as if he didn't care and also seemed anxious for the guard to finish once and for all and leave. You just wanted to get rid of this embarrassing situation, you were afraid that the guard would suspect what was going on between the two of you and you wanted to get back to your store before you caused any more trouble:

“Well, since we've finished our conversation, I think I should go. Goodbye, gentlemen.” You said, bowing slightly as a gesture of respect and farewell.

Frollo was surprised by what you said and then raised his face with a different expression, as if he actually wanted you to stay, but you quickly fled the men's sight and left the judge's office, passing through the corridors that led to the exit of the palace.

As you walked down the street to your house, you were still thinking about what had just happened. You soon arrived at the store and quickly locked the door, as if you were being chased by someone, then leaned your back against the wall and brought your hand up to your lips. You'd just kissed the cruelest judge in Paris, you'd just kissed the man you hated and you'd fallen for your own hypocrisy.

Both went against their own laws. Both went against their own character. Both felt that everything was about to turn upside down. On the one hand, a judge on the verge of a moral collapse, on the other, a seamstress trapped in mortal doubt. The ending is almost as clear as glass: Grandiose changes and a drama that could end in either blood or something unacceptable to French society.

I really love your writing and I would want to explore how frollo would court you, you mentioned he would “buy a goat” and trade you for it, but listen to me: I would like to hear your thoughts if the s/o’s father would actually straight up give him like a quest and he’s like “you must bring me a unicorn horn and prove your worthy of my lineage” how would frollo react?

Frollo when faced with an impossible quest for your hand

Authors note: Did someone ask for a fic 😏 Sorry I disappeared off the planet. You know, life, chronic depression and the complete lack of self worth or self esteem to publish. That jazz. ANYWAY ENJOY THE FICC GIRLIES 😜❤️ (yall be starving)

Tw: Ooc frollo? Readers dad kinda reads lime an asshole?

•First of all, he’s gonna be pissed like, “Get me a Unicorn? Those don’t exist?”

•The guy spends hours pondering how to convince your dad to either change it or work around the wording.

•He goes back and forth about leaving you, and

•I think Frollo would do his best to be tricky with it! Like, find faults in your father's words to create a story where he is TECHNICALLY, right.

I’m picturing it going something like this

Frollo went into this whole “find a spouse” thing thinking it would be easy. Just go to church a few times, speak to a pretty person, and ask the bride price.

You told him it wouldn’t be THAT easy. That your dad was going to ask for a creative bride price. Your parents had always prided themselves on ensuring clever people surrounded you. They especially wanted this for your husband.

Frollo hadn’t listened which led to where you are, sitting at the dinner table with your courting partner looking bewildered. How was this the price for your hand?!

“You want what for your child’s hand?!” He exclaimed.

“A unicorn.” Your father replied smugly. He’d done this test a thousand times, and no guy ever stuck it out.

“Surely, 4 goats would suffice for them. A unicorn isn’t even a real creature?!” Frollo declared loudly!

“Surely, a man of your intelligence will find the work around Judge.” Your father replied. He had a look on his face that made him seem superior to Frollo. That little…

Frollo left the house absolutely livid. Why if he weren’t your father! Frollo would have him executed!

Frollo got to thinking… What would David do for Saul? He thought for hours! Frollo was contemplating actually going and searching at some point. Then it hit him.

“Bring me a unicorn.” He NEVER said it needed to be a real Unicorn… That night, Frollo cut off the horn of a goat and went to the stables. Frollo purchased a large akhal-teke, and he glued the horn to its head using fish glue.

The work was… poor but it didn’t have to be a real unicorn. After all, he really should have specified that it needed to be real.

The next morning Frollo rode in on the “Unicorn”. He had his signature look of superiority. You giggled. Quite amused. There was no way this would work!

“As requested, a Unicorn.” Your father didn't look happy. Like… at all. He raised an eyebrow.

“This isn’t a Unicorn.” Your father responded. All Frollo had to offer was a smirk and shrug.

“You never said it had to be a real one” Your father quirked an eyebrow. Reflecting on his prior words. It was true. He hadn’t. Your father smirked. He’d been outwit.

“True. You have outwitted me. Very well. You may keep my daughter's hand.” He declared proudly.

You smiled fondly. The candle light flickering as you recalled the events. You certainly did have a husband. Plus an extra bonus…

“And that’s how your father and I got married Quasi. I certainly think that was a good demonstration of his wit. Don’t you?”

The young boy looked up at you with wonder in his eyes as you tucked him in. How Claude could view him so negatively you would never know.

“Can you tell it again mama? Can you? Can you?” You smiled and kissed his disfigured eyebrow.

“Maybe tomorrow.” You responded getting up off the bed. Maybe tomorrow…

Claude Frollo x Reader

Suggestive Oneshot

Is this damn priest dilf energy or nah

Author's note: Have you ever disliked a villain so much you wanted to hate breed them and make them your bitch? Read this, cuz you can :)

You're one of the few ladies the tyrannical man has taken interest in. Something he'd refer to as being bewitched by those who are innocent. Intrigue driven by his own lustful desires similar to his captivation by the beautiful dancer, Esmeralda. But unlike her, you were certainly not as lucky preventing your imprisonment and attempting to escape the minister's grasp.

Frollo/Reader [Romantic Tendencies(???)]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

!Female Reader! • Seductive/“Succubus” reader • Imprisoned reader • We're basically gonna be assaulting him WOOHOO • Threats • Reader is unfearful of death • Arousal • Teasing, but it's bordering on degradation • Desperation • Drooling/Salivating • Kissing • ...Leaking...iykyk • He's an old man who's never satisfied his primal desires, what did you expect • This entire fic and concept in general is TW worthy tbh-

I REGRET NOTHING ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Warning: crashing, nothing much else really

Series: sin and pastries

content: judge Claude Frollo x reader

Word count: 2.3k

Claude Frollo x fem!reader

When a Judge Begs for Mercy Pt. 1

Word Count: 3.7K

Synopsis: Reader is obsessed with Frollo, and heavily stalks him. She steals his toothbrush, collects his hair, so on and so forth, but specially, she sneaks into his room at night. One day, at the Feast of Fools, she gets particularly jealous and decides to come up to his office and ultimately seduce him. She discovers that not everything always goes as planned.

Tags: Yandere!Reader, Smut, Porn with Plot, Frollo is a bitch, Horny and dumb, Masturbation, Heavy stalking, delusional reader, (kind of) unreliable narrator, Clothed Masturbation, Cunnilingus, Religious Guilt, Frollo thinks you’re crazy (he still wants you).

Notes: 1- Expect things that are NOT period accurate at all. I did my best to research stuff but there were some elements I wanted to keep (cuz why not), like the hygiene things. My hc is that he would be kind of germophobic so I included that as well.

2- English is not my first language so I was struggling with the old English grammar (I tried my best).

3- This is BAD (in any way you wanna put it) but it’s Frollo smut so does that really matter………

4- I’m switching up the format a bit for this one, using second person instead of first, an appearance neutral reader, and quotation marks for dialogue.

You’ve always been there. Looking at him, from afar, among the common people. He was rarely out, as he usually spends his time in the palace of justice or the cathedral. How did you know this? You just followed him everywhere… kind of. Your obsession with him had gone so far to know that he always leaves his bedroom door open, to cool the room, which you always take advantage of to sneak in.

You occasionally watch him sleep, even stealing some of his belongings… his toothbrush, his socks, his underwear… you even collected some of his hair, you had a jar almost half full of it… and you sometimes applied some of his fragrances on you. He had a very strong, refined scent, which was gifted to him by an aristocrat to thank him for his work. He smelled like roses, but not just like any rose. It smelled darker, spicier, like sandalwood and cinnamon. Whatever it was, your eyes rolled in delight whenever it hit your nostrils.

You were sure he was starting to grow suspicious by now, but you weren’t stopping until he was completely yours. Until he became just as obsessed with you as you were with him, so you just kept stalking him in the shadows.

You knew that Frollo was a very clean man. He took baths 2 times a day, and even rinsed his face with rosewater every night. He always made sure he looked put together, shaving every 3 days exactly, and, also, a detail you’re very proud of knowing; he shaved his legs once a week. Even so, you never got to see him completely naked, as he was very private, even when he was all by himself (or so he thought). You couldn’t sneak into the bathroom, as it was too small and he would definitely notice you there, so the only way you knew was when he got out of there, and saw his shaven legs and fresh face.

You left freshly cut roses in his bedroom window every week, and surprisingly, he wasn’t so suspicious of it. You once heard him tell someone about it, and he said he thought it was probably a naughty bird. But more importantly, he said he liked it. So you went with it, you weren’t punctual every month, sometimes you did it on the 6th, sometimes on the 21st, and sometimes on the 20th, which aren’t just random dates, it was his birthdate, June 21st 1420.

Soon it would be the Feast of Fools, and Frollo would attend it, as he does every year. You were yearning for it, as it was the only time you got to see Frollo in public, and you thought maybe he’d notice you, one day. This time, a belly dancer was performing for the festival, and you didn’t think much of it. Not until you saw her dancing to YOUR Frollo.

She was closer to him than you ever were… your blood boiled at the sight. You saw him, he looked nothing like himself. Why was he different with her? She would NEVER love him as much as you did. Moreover, she didn’t love him at all. She was just a dirty dancer. She was one of the people he hated most, why didn’t he look disgusted, or if anything, indifferent? You were so furious that you had to leave early. You would never do that, but you swore you were ready to behead her right there, and you REALLY didn’t want to get in trouble. After all, Frollo was a judge, so you needed to be impeccable, legally at least.

You came into Frollo’s room, and you couldn’t help but to lay on his bed, hugging the bedsheets, kissing them, and whining into them: “I love you, Frollo” over and over again, your body rubbing against his sheets, as you whimpered and moaned his name, like a mantra. You were so needy, so desperate to release that tension built from that belly dancer, that despicable woman, that you couldn’t help but start touching yourself on his bed. You started going down on yourself, your hand teasing your clit, and the other one pinching one of your breasts, as you moaned Frollo’s name over and over again, your hand doing a circling motion over your clit. You occasionally pinched it, you knew Frollo would like to see your contorted expression of pain, which made you cry of both pain and pleasure.

You always wanted to do this, but you were afraid of getting caught. Today was different. You were furious, almost grieving, and this was the only thing that could possibly calm you down. You decided that if you were gonna do this, you were gonna do this properly, so you put the pillow of the side he slept in every night between your legs, and frantically humped it. You imagined you were riding Frollo’s face, that his tongue was swirling against your folds, and in only a couple minutes, you came undone on his pillow, leaving your release all over it.

You then heard the sound of keys downstairs. You panicked, and started inverting the pillow cover, so he was less likely to smell your fluids when he laid down, and you smoothed out the wrinkles in the bed, leaving it as it was before. You hid under his desk, and waited nervously for him to come in.

He opened his bedroom, and immediately, he felt as if something wasn’t quite right, but he ignored the thought. He then sat at his desk, finding some papers. You knew you were screwed. By the way he was sighing, you could tell he was pissed. Or at least bothered. You couldn’t see his face, but if you could, there wouldn’t have been any doubts at all.

You wondered what could’ve happened. Then he started praying. He started praying about her. The belly dancer from earlier. He asked for forgiveness, blaming her for “enchanting” him. You didn’t know whether to celebrate or throw the table down. Why celebrate, you may ask? It was painfully obvious.

He was aroused, and very much so.

He sounded desperate, ragged sighs coming out of his lips. Listening to him like that was the best music you’d ever heard in your life, and frankly, you were grateful for it; so you kept listening.

He couldn’t finish his prayer properly, and abruptly ended it with an “I’m sorry”, before you saw his hands lowering on the desk. He was squeezing his crotch, and he let out what sounded like a painful moan. Like it had been ages since he had been touched by himself or anyone else. He started to massage his bulge softly, as you enjoyed the front seats of the whole show; he was touching himself in front of you.

The sounds he made were heavenly, he truly was an angel. He let out both high pitched whimpers and low groans, as he touched himself, the robes he was wearing were already annoying him. But he didn’t take them off, for some reason he thought it would make it better in the eyes of God if he didn’t take them off. You had the urge to reach out to touch him. Help him. Free him from those robes. But you didn’t. He’d kick you out for sure, and you’d never win him over. So you put yourself together and only enjoyed the display, making sure to remember everything. Every twitch, every moan, every plea, every sigh. You never wanted to forget this.

His breath became more agitated, and his moans less muffled, as his hand worked faster over his erection. He was close. Then he let out a heavy, stuttery sigh, as his hands stopped the motion, squeezing it instead. A wet patch formed in his crotch. He came. Hard.

You couldn’t help yourself but to reach out and sniff it, fuck. He thankfully didn’t notice, but you wanted to… no, needed to pull him closer and just suck him off, make him cum again, just now deep in your throat.

He kept catching his breath, riding out his orgasm, before speaking out loud:

“Ah, Merde! This is ruined…”

Speaking about his robe. He then went into the bathroom and put on his usual pajamas; a white camisole and some knee length striped shorts, as well as some high black socks. He looked stunning.

He then fell into his bed, reading some bible verses before crossing himself and turning off his light, finally going to sleep. You waited, as you enjoyed watching him sleep, but he tossed and turned in the bed, and you started to panic. Was he gonna smell your mess? This was bad.

You listened carefully, and heard him take a good sniff, then two more. Shit.

He took another long sniff, and whined against his pillow. He kept sniffling it, moaning into it, and eventually licking into it.

Why was he so normal about that? He thought he was so far gone into his lustful delusions, that he had become able to sniff a woman’s genitals. He thought it was all just another fantasy of his, from the sinful state he was in. He was licking your release. It was too much. You had decided. You were going to confess to him tomorrow.

He kept sniffing and sighing. It was like he was smelling his favorite meal, he couldn’t stop, until he eventually fell asleep to it.

When you confirmed he was asleep, you climbed out the window, making your way home. You slept peacefully, probably the best sleep you’d had in a while. The next day you woke up, decided to come up to his office, and demanded to speak to him. The guards let you in, with the excuse that your affair was urgent.

You knocked on his office, and he let you in. You didn’t sit down. He asked you what the matter was.

“God sent me here. He said you needed me.”

“Wha-?”

He began to speak, as you started unbuttoning your top, which immediately froze him. You were afraid you were coming off too strong.

“He told me I’m the woman for you…”

He sat there, speechless, his eyes wide open, as your top fell off your shoulders, revealing your breasts.

“He wanted me to tell you not to worry… that He was always going to be there for you…”

“… And that you must find the light through me.”

Frollo gulped.

“… Would you please lock the door?”

You did as he asked, and lifted your skirt up, as you pressed against the door, revealing your bare ass to him. You didn’t like to brag, but you had pretty good attributes. You felt his breath turn heavy.

This was the day, you were finally having him.

“You don’t need to be shy…”

Frollo then reluctantly came closer. The whole situation felt weird to him, but he couldn’t resist such an offer. It was too much of a coincidence he really wanted to believe it was true.

He was officially involved. You couldn’t help but moan when his hand touched your ass. He then shushed you softly. That hush was so soft, so sweet, that you looked back at him and leaned in to kiss him. When he reciprocated, your stomach fluttered hard. You moaned into it, and immediately got carried away.

You moaned into his mouth, and he held you close, tilting your head back so he could lick and suck on your neck, to which you moaned.

“A-ah! J-judge…”

“Frollo. Call me Frollo.”

“Frollo… please…”

He groaned, and decided to try something.

“Call me Claude.”

“Claude… anything you want from me I will give to you…”

He smiled creepily, a mix of wickedness and genuine fondness and excitement on his face.

“What is your name, beautiful young lady?”

You tell him your name.

“Pretty name for an even prettier lady… if what you claim is true, then I'm no one to change God’s will.”

He then started to bite on your neck, before lifting your skirt even further. He alternated between sucking, biting and kissing your neck, almost uncertain of how to proceed. That frustrated him.

“Claude… I-I’m a virgin.”

You added. You were young, and boys your age didn’t like your way of being; you also weren’t fond of one night stands, so there’s that.

His eyes darkened.

“Then God must have truly sent an angel my way.”

He didn’t lose another second before his hands fell to your breasts, his long, pale, wrinkly fingers surrounding your soft skin, your cute nipples already hard . He played with them, while kissing you deeply.

“You’re an angel…”

“Claude… Please, touch me more…”

You begged, as his touch awakened something needy in you, and he could see that. He didn’t know why or how you were here, because unless you were indeed sent by God to him, then how could this possibly be so convenient? There had to be something else to it, but for now, the opportunity was too good to let it slip.

He left a trail of lovebites over your neck, as he kept fondling your breasts, his erection already pressing against you.

“You must keep quiet. There are guards outside.”

He said, trying to keep collected.

“As you wish, Claude…”

You answered with a fatal whisper, that made him sigh deeply.

He then lowered your skirt, leaving you almost completely bare, with your top barely hanging on your arms and waist.

“Sit on the couch…”

He ordered, moaning into your mouth. You obeyed, and sat down. He fell to his knees, brushing his face over your thighs. His expression one of vulnerability, as he gripped your thighs so tightly that it almost hurt. He thought you were going to step back, that by now you would understand that he has been celibate for years, and now that he was finally going to break that, he wasn’t playing it cool.

He yearned for sexual contact, waiting for his rightful wife, but he was already 66 years old, and didn’t have time to find one anymore. So, surely he had already earned his place in heaven.

He lifted your shirt slightly, revealing your tummy. His face moved forward, to feel your stomach against his skin.

You observed his behavior, and analyzed it to give him your best, so you risked it, and gripped his hair softly, pressing his face against your tummy, to which he let out a shaky sigh, his hands now moving up to your sides.

“You are mine, Claude.”

You said, both seductive and possessive. He looked up at you like a lost puppy, heading south again without breaking eye contact.

He was now positioned before your cunt, and quickly borrowed a glance at your core. He let out a broken sigh, his eyes shut, before he melted into your center, his mouth now pressing against it, kissing and licking gently, like a baby kitten. You moaned as quietly as you could, but for the most part bit your lip to hold back whatever loud sounds your lips let out.

He started licking faster, lapping his tongue across your cunt. He had a really long tongue. He was sloppy, probably a little in the blue after years of celibacy, but he gave what he could in the end. He gave long licks in different directions, sloppy and desperate, before finding your clit.

He noticed that when his tongue hit that particular place, you squirmed, and he liked that. He repeated the motion over and over again, with renewed confidence. From time to time, he drifted away to kiss and suck on your inner thighs, leaving your whole groin area completely soaked in his saliva.

He wasn’t exempt of sound, as his moans were muffled by your genitals. You loved the feeling of his tongue lapping at you, and your legs started squeezing his head. When you did that, his expression turned into one of pleasure, rolling his eyes to the back of his head, his brows raised and furrowed.

He started biting hard on your thighs, and you threw your head back, covering your mouth, your other hand running through his hair, pushing him against your core. You felt yourself slipping from the couch, trying to grind yourself harder against his mouth.

“C-claude!”

You sighed his name softly. Each passing moment keeping quiet started sounding more like an impossible task. You came undone in his tongue shortly after, and he groaned at the taste of your release. He could swear he had tasted it before.

“F-frollo!”

You whined and squirmed helplessly. This had been the best thing you’d ever experienced, and you couldn’t get enough of it, so you looked down at him, his mouth covered in your slick, clear fluids.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen”

You uttered, completely lost in your obsession with him. He searched your face for any lies, and he found none. For some reason, you wanted him. Genuinely wanted him. A girl he hadn’t ever seen in his life. It was all too good to be true.

You don’t think he’d react the same if he knew of your activities… how you stalked him day and night, how you stole his things to keep for yourself. But he didn’t have to know.

“I can’t get enough of you, Claude…”

He remained knelt, but you reached out to kiss him, pushing him to the floor. You moaned against his lips, tasting yourself in him, as he held you flush against him.

He moaned your name against your lips, letting out needy sighs, his hardness pressing angrily against you.

“Let me relieve you, Claude… please… I’ve waited so long to do this…”

“Waited?”

Shit. You fucked up. He then started to build distance between the two of you.

“What do you mean by 'waited’?”

He asked again, his tone demanding. You had no choice.

“I-I’m sorry, no, I meant-”

“I want the truth.”

Your stomach dropped.

“I love you.”

You uttered, your voice threatening to break. He furrowed his brows.

“I’ve never even seen you in my life.”

He looked at you as if you were crazy, but he still let you talk.

“I know. But I have. Everyday. You’ve just never noticed me.”

“That’s nonsense, I would’ve noticed if you did.”

“I’m not lying!”

He looked at you, unconvinced.

“Do you think I’m a fool, young lady?”

He asked, his demeanor now changed. He was now completely released from your embrace, standing back up shortly after

“If I was lying… how would I know that you’re using a navy toga, because your black one got messy yesterday?”

He blushed softly, his expression slightly embarrassed to consider the thought you did see what he was doing yesterday.

“That could be common sense!”

“Okay, then how do I know that by “messy”, I mean stained with sperm?”

You said, losing your cool after seeing he remained incredulous.

“How do you know that?”

“I was under your desk. I saw everything.”

“You’ve been spying on me? Who sent you?”

He looked furious. You expected a lot of outcomes, but you certainly weren’t expecting it to go this wrong.

“N-nobody sent me! I’m not working for anyone…”

“Then why on earth are you spying on me?”

“Because I love you.”

He frowned at you, almost disgusted by what he thought were dirty lies.

“Nonsense! Why would a young woman like you, love me, an old man that has got nothing to do with her?”

“Please, Claude, I’m-”

“I am not “Claude” to you. You may address me as Judge Frollo.”

Your heart broke in a million pieces at that statement, now on the verge of tears.

“Please, listen… I only wanted you to be mine… after I saw what that woman did to you… the way she enchanted you… I couldn’t stand it anymore… I needed to confess to you…”

“Oh, I get it. You want gold. Alright then, let’s forget about this, you’ll take the coins, and you won’t tell anyone about this or bother me again, yes?”

He looked at you with a smug look. You stared at him, confused.

“W-what? I don’t want your coins! Don’t you get it? I leave roses on your window every month, and more importantly, I visit you every night… I- I even- I…”

You started reluctantly, tears welling up in your eyes. You wiped them, and decided to continue.

“I- I even touched myself on your bed, yesterday… I- I saw you smell me… you slept on your right side, you never do that… you did that because you liked my smell…”

His eyes widened, everything made sense now, that missing underwear, the weird noises, his open window—it all clicked in that moment. You were telling the truth.

“That was you… that’s why you tasted familiar…”

“… The roses… It was you.”

He thought out loud, his voice softer now.

“So you’re not spying on me?”

He asked again, his tone accusative and interrogative.

“No…”

You reassured him, trying your best to win his trust back.

“And you don’t want coins?”

You shook your head, holding onto his hand.

“All I want is you, Judge Frollo. I’m sorry for being dishonest, I will never do it again, but I needed you to listen to me… to like me…”

He looked shocked, conflicted by your feelings.

“I will leave if you want me to, but my feelings are as real as what happened right now… Judge Frollo, we are meant to be… God made you wait so long, and now he’s guiding me to you… you’re the only thing that brings me joy…”

You searched his face for clues, but you only saw confusion. Conflict. He didn’t know what to think anymore.

Suddenly, his expression released all the tension it had, and he sighed.

“I will spare you, and let you go.”

You drew a blank. On one side, he was sparing you, on the other side, he was kicking you out. You knew that if you didn’t comply, you’d never see him again, so you resigned and obeyed, putting your clothes back on. You saw him wiping his mouth.

“I know you’re lonely. I know that better than anyone else.

You uttered, while putting your skirt back on. He struggled to keep eye contact with you now, a soft color filling his cheeks. He turned his back on you.

“Thank you, Judge…”

You whispered softly into his ear, kissing his cheek. He tried to look unfazed, but you could feel his skin burning in your lips still.

Do Judges dream of park attendants?

(Frollo x Reader)

TW: description of Panic attacks

————————————————————————

Out of all the Disney villains brought to life by Disney, Frollo is having the hardest time. All of his beliefs, everything he had sacrificed in his life have been destroyed in an instant the moment he opened his eyes in this Infernal theme park

Frollo doesn’t actually believe he’s alive anymore, that the Disney parks is his divine punishment

Gn!reader, oneshot

Warning: smutty but i'll put a line where it starts

You were his loyal knight. He trusted you deeply. And you never disobeyed him or even hesitated about any of his request.

He loved you for your loyalty and how brave you were. There was just this one problem. He didn't just admire you for those quality's. He got lost in your eyes and the way you smiled at him rather often.

A smug smile always formed on his lips whenever you replied with a "Yes sir!"

And when your attention was on someone else, well it made him very upset. Especially if you looked happy talking to the person who wasn't him.

But he refused the idea of being in love. 'No there is just no way, i must be wrong' he told himself.

He found himself thinking about you at late nights. At first it was just him worrying. But soon he started to rewind memories. Memories about you talking to him, smiling at him, calling out to him.

'This is all their fault' he thought to himself. 'You're the reason i can't get any sleep' he complained.

Earlier in the afternoon he couldn't stop staring at you and when you pointed it out he said that you are falsely accusing him. Which you responded with a "Im sorry sir. It's just that you look tired, is everything alright?"

He stared at you unblinking for a second (which kind of spooked you out). "I just- had a problem with the fireplace, yes yes thats it" he said it strangely but not enough for you to suspect anything. Plus you didn't wanted to question the judge anymore.

"I see, well if there's anything i can help with, you know where to find me" you said it smilingly with a wink. You didn't mean anything by it, just wanted to seem nice but he almost choked on the air.

He didn't said anything, and after coming back to reality he quickly gave you a nod.

'He probably didn't get much sleep' you thinked.

"Well im off! Hope ur majesty sleeps well tonight." And with that you jumped on your horse and he watched you until you disappeared.

Back to the present he was still wide awake. He wished he could just finally sleep and get a good rest.

After moving around for a couple of more seconds he found himself in a comforting position. And soon after finally fall asleep.

_______________________________

In his dream, even there you couldn't leave his mind.

Plus you were laying so close to him. And your hands roamed around his body, complimenting him, asking him if it feels good.

"Oh Judge, you are the greatest" you said it seductively, stroking his ego (and his body)

He couldn't respond, only moans and whimpers came out of his mouth.

Your hands find their ways to his private area and he felt his heart skip a beat.

He was a blushing mess at this point.

Your voice, your hand, your beauty was making him go crazy. How could he not give in?

Your figure took his face in their hands and pulled him in for a kiss. When you pulled away he was trying to catch his breath. He never felt this good before. He never wanted to give in to lust, to sin. But here he is, letting you take control.

His hands moved to touch you but you grabbed them and pinned him down. Now on top of him.

"I saw the way you were staring at me, taking a like to me huh sir?"

He was not sure how long he can handle this for.

He didn't quite know what or how to but he wanted some sort of release from the pleasure.

You started kissing his neck and nibbling on it. He felt something rush trough him.

He woke up and sit up fast, still panting, his face all red.

He felt a strange feeling in his pants. Little did he know he just had a wet dream.

After that he felt very embarrassed but also interested. He couldn't look you in the eye that day. He just stared at you, turning away with a slight blush when you looked at him.

But now he knew, that no matter what. He has to make you his.

'They will be mine, even if it takes for me to act a sin. It's their fault anyways, they must knew what they were doing to me, with the way they talk,act, and smile my way' he told himself many times.