Drabbletag - Impertinent
Title: Cheekily
Prompt: Drabbletag 5 - Impertinent
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: Frigga/Darcy
Rating: R
Word count: 250
Notes: Spanking, spoilers for Thor: The Dark World
Frigga smiles at her, in this way that makes Darcy’s toes curl inside her sneakers.
“You are an impertinent one,” Frigga informs her, voice like caramel, rich and sweet and so bad for her, because Darcy’s already squirming, already flushed and throbbing and needy.
Frigga looks so amused, one corner of her mouth curled up, eyebrow raised, like she’s enjoying every second of Darcy’s spectacular failure to understand the nuances of Asgardian etiquette.
Except Darcy’s pretty sure she does understand, she’s just having too much fun bending the rules, pushing the boundaries. Especially when it gets her this kind of attention, Frigga’s gaze sweeping over her body, slow and purposeful.
“Perhaps you need to be taught a lesson,” Frigga suggests and, oh crap, Darcy’s pretty sure her knees are going to give out any second because damn. The Queen of Asgard is sitting before her, patting her lap with a pointed look, and Darcy has to fight hard not to whimper.
She doesn’t care how presumptuous she’s being when she instantly starts grappling with her fly, but Frigga gives her this serene look, like Darcy’s just wonderful as she drops trou.
Jane and Thor are somewhere in Asgard, trying to figure out how to stop this Aether garbage, and Darcy should probably be helping them. But instead she’s draping herself across Frigga’s lap, already wet and whining for the sound of Frigga raising her hand.
The first slap against her ass is the most intensely perfect thing Darcy’s ever felt.
Prompt: Drabbletag 5 - Impertinent
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: Frigga/Darcy
Rating: R
Word count: 250
Notes: Spanking, spoilers for Thor: The Dark World
Frigga smiles at her, in this way that makes Darcy’s toes curl inside her sneakers.
“You are an impertinent one,” Frigga informs her, voice like caramel, rich and sweet and so bad for her, because Darcy’s already squirming, already flushed and throbbing and needy.
Frigga looks so amused, one corner of her mouth curled up, eyebrow raised, like she’s enjoying every second of Darcy’s spectacular failure to understand the nuances of Asgardian etiquette.
Except Darcy’s pretty sure she does understand, she’s just having too much fun bending the rules, pushing the boundaries. Especially when it gets her this kind of attention, Frigga’s gaze sweeping over her body, slow and purposeful.
“Perhaps you need to be taught a lesson,” Frigga suggests and, oh crap, Darcy’s pretty sure her knees are going to give out any second because damn. The Queen of Asgard is sitting before her, patting her lap with a pointed look, and Darcy has to fight hard not to whimper.
She doesn’t care how presumptuous she’s being when she instantly starts grappling with her fly, but Frigga gives her this serene look, like Darcy’s just wonderful as she drops trou.
Jane and Thor are somewhere in Asgard, trying to figure out how to stop this Aether garbage, and Darcy should probably be helping them. But instead she’s draping herself across Frigga’s lap, already wet and whining for the sound of Frigga raising her hand.
The first slap against her ass is the most intensely perfect thing Darcy’s ever felt.