Warning: swearing, incest, cheating (i guess?)
Prompt Info: 3 || black queen + swan queen // punishment.
Note: this one is long. i highly doubt they will be this long again – it just really ran away from me.
Emma has never seen her like this.
It has never been like this.
Two hours after initially trapping Regina between the doorframe of the bathroom, face painted with a smirk that Emma believes will always make Regina falter, it’s now painfully clear that this is no longer something heated and intense and a moment they can try to reconnect with. It has gone from a desperate attempt to draw Regina back into reality, back with her, into something raw and painful and frustrating.
She shuffles side to side on her knees, trying to ease the pressure.
They have changed positions over and over, and nothing has worked.
With a heavy heave, Emma pulls herself over Regina’s almost limp body, and rolls her onto her stomach. Regina complies easily, trying to feign enthusiasm as she has been all evening, and spreads her legs for Emma to resituate herself between them.
Two palms either side of Regina’s slender hips, eyes fixated on the increasingly prominent notches of her spine jutting out from beneath her olive skin, Emma dips and lowers her hips, pressing softly until the head of the faux-cock slides up against Regina’s cunt, making her hiss. Reaching down with her hand, she fists near the top and presses forward, pushing into Regina, frowning at the resistance.
“Oh, my g-,” Regina almost sobs out, pressing her open mouth into the pillow quickly, as though she is trying to smother the sound.
She has been moaning constantly, although Emma figures they are best described as groans, the raspy exclamations sounding low and painful. That sound again, coupled with the obvious lack of desire acts as the final straw for her, and makes her attempt to pull out and end it for the third time.
“Don’t,” Regina’s husky tone pleads, repeating the process as she tenses at the feeling of the withdrawal.
Emma leans forward and presses her lips to Regina’s shoulder blade, mouth open and peppering kisses up the protrusion, around the back of her neck and then around to her cheek.
“It’s okay,” she murmurs against her temple, “It’s okay.”
“No,” Regina says, and using her thighs and knees to lift herself up, she moves her hand down between her body and the bed, reaching under and searching until she grasps the cock in her hand and pushes it back inside her with her fingertips. “Please,” she moans to Emma, sounding far away, “I’m going to finish, just please don’t stop.”
Sighing, teeth clenched with worry and question at the desperation she hears in Regina’s voice, Emma resumes kissing the heated skin until Regina’s face turns to find her lips, and then cupping two hipbones, using the position to lift Regina’s ass up and back into her, she starts off again with slow, deep thrusts.
It’s a lie. She can always tell when Regina lies.
They have been at it for hours and although she has come three, four times, two more than she deems comfortable and two more orgasms than she can usually stand with Regina not immediately following her into them, Regina has not come once.
Her entire cunt is raw, red and swollen and they’re still fucking for god knows what reason, Regina under the delusion, or just fuelled by pure desperation, that she is going to finish. But no, skin over sensitized, Emma knows her efforts are futile because Regina is lost somewhere that is definitely not present, not with her or their son or their family, and hadn’t been for almost two months.
But she still thrusts forward with an almost angered grunt, her clit throbbing against the harness and the headboard slamming into the wall, accompanied by the smack of her hips hitting Regina’s ass.
Tonight was supposed to be progress, the first time they have been intimate since the incident, but all they’ve managed to do is work themselves into an unsatisfying fuck, and Emma has taken to subtly wiping her hands on the sheets because the sweat is pouring between them and adding to the smell of sex and arousal and a struggle, just a plain fucking battle that needs to end, and soon.
“Regina,” she gasps out, her mouth open equal parts against Regina’s cheek and lips. Despite her mental hesitance she can feel her body reaching toward another orgasm, making her grit her teeth and slam into her again and again and again, winding tighter at the shocked shriek Regina lets out at the deeper penetration.
She pulls harshly on the sharp hipbones until Regina gets the hint and sits up, resting on her shins and the tips of her toes while Emma lifts her to sit higher on her thighs, directly on top of the cock again. Wincing, Regina slides to the hilt and then leans forward, taking advantage of the new position by bracing herself against the headboard, her fingers curling around the bars.
Emma is merciless then, pushing off her toes to propel her pounding movements, stopping only when the friction from the base proves too maddening, the pressure from Regina’s tight walls impeding any sort of consistent rhythm, and she rumbles out a guttural groan around a mouthful of Regina’s neck, biting down hard.
“Fuck,” Emma pants out, after her heart rate plummets back down to normal, just as with whimpered cry, Regina lifts herself off of the cock before sitting back on Emma’s bent thighs, pushing the shaft up between them.
Falling into the warmth, Emma runs her hands across Regina’s stomach, up past sore and stinging breasts, the column of her neck and then up to her face, dropping sweet kisses as she pulls Regina’s damp hair back.
“You didn’t come,” she whispers, and Regina is either ignorant to the subtle question, or simply chooses not to answer.
Instead, with a small smile, she moves away and settles onto the bed, flipping her pillow around before resting her head on it, facing Emma’s direction.
There’s no post-orgasmic bliss, no gentle shy smile Regina sometimes gives her after they’ve been especially enthusiastic, just numbness. Her deep brown eyes are glazed and blank, staring at Emma with an unreadable expression.
Silently, Emma removes the harness and settles down onto the bed as well, facing her.
Although she doesn’t talk, it isn’t a stretch to imagine that her eyes are telling every story her mouth will not, cannot say, and all she manages to do is gently run her fingertips along Regina’s cheek, her temple, before idly tucking loose hairs around her ear. She’s beautiful, even like this, always.
But no matter how hard she tries, she just can’t turn away from how sad, how devastated, how empty Regina looks.
“She broke your heart, didn’t she?”
And just like that, Regina puts a shaky palm up to her face, trying to cower away from Emma’s knowing eyes. Even though Emma can’t see the way Regina’s face crumbles with pure agony, she can hear the mournful sob, and the shattered staggering inhale. It’s incentive enough to pull Regina as close to her as she can possibly manage, and as she tries to contain her trembling form, she swears to never allow Cora this kind of influence, this power, over Regina again.
She knows it is immediately, standing outside the door at Granny’s. Ruby’s untamable heart is to blame for that little set-up, and according to the rumor mill, it’s working out quite well: no trouble whatsoever, no incidents, just surprisingly polite, albeit brief encounters in passing.
Oh, and visits from Hook.
This cannot end well, Emma thinks, gnawing on her thumbnail. She shouldn’t have even considered doing this, but all she has to do is remember back three months ago, the way she could have closed her eyes and been fucking anyone, for how little Regina was acting like herself. Or at how she had held Regina’s sobbing form well into the early hours after, barely holding herself together at the anguish and heartache and pure fucking agony that had flowed out of the woman.
And that thought alone is terrifying, paralyzing.
More so because Regina is only getting worse, becoming nothing but a desolate hollow shell, filled only with the things and memories and lost possibilities that she just can’t let go, or move on from.
So gathering a steady, cleansing breath, she lifts her fist and knocks with all the confidence she can muster.
The door swings open in a reasonable time, and the woman raises a glass of something whiskey-looking in her hand.
“Hey,” Emma spits out, “You look pretty good for someone who fucked with her daughter’s heart for years, and then left her when you got your own again.”
Cora’s heart back in her chest appears to have aged and burdened the woman for her decades of sins and evils, but simultaneously brightened her, enhanced what were undeniably striking features, somehow, because Emma can’t imagine that she could ever truly feel joy after what she has done to Regina.
They sit in awkward, painful silence for long long moments before Cora finally looks up at her, mask firmly place and asks, “How is my daughter?”
“You lost the right to that title when you tossed her away,” Emma spits. “How do you think she’s doing?”
Rising to stand, Emma watches how Cora’s fingertips crackle with wisps of purple, instinctively preparing for a battle Emma isn’t going to give her.
Cora still, infuriatingly, looks blank, like it doesn’t matter to her.
“All she has ever wanted is your love,” Emma says, trying to cool the fury in the pit of her stomach, coiling. “When she put your heart back in your chest you were supposed to love her, and choose her and be a proper mother, because we all know she deserved that at the very least from you.”
The mask falters at those words momentarily, for Cora like everyone else fails to remain indifferent about Regina be it for good or bad reasons, with her heart in her chest, and it gives Emma reason to pause.
“You don’t understand any aspect of my relationship with my daughter,” Cora sneers, then. “It’s not any of your concern, Sheriff, and I suggest you leave while you’re still able to use those legs I hear my daughter spends so much time between.”
Barking out a laugh, Emma smirks in an attempt to appear unaffected, even as her cheeks burn a scorching red. “I figured it was the no-heart thing that made you such a bitch, but I guess that’s you, right?”
Cora smirks back in response, coy and cold and Emma sees danger flash in those darkening eyes. “Are you quite done, dear?”
It’s so different, that dear, coming from Cora’s tongue and not Regina’s, although similar in a way too that makes Emma’s hair stand up on her neck. This woman is truly unworthy, undeserving of Regina, and the thought seems to stroke the flames of her anger further.
“Here’s the thing, okay: I don’t know what the hell you did to make her think that she needs you, but whatever you did, it’s hurting her. You ruined her before everyone else got the chance, alright, but what you’re doing now? It’s killing her. You’ve had your heart back in your chest for nearly half a year, and haven’t seen her once.”
Saying it aloud makes it sound all the more ridiculous, and Emma shakes her head, brows furrowing.
“What the hell is the matter with you?”
“I’m sure you and that unappreciative dolt have stepped up in my absence,” Cora’s lips curl into a perverse smile, but unlike before when she was lacking her heart, her eyes give her away now.
She is longing for Regina, Emma can tell, the mother breaking free of Cora’s impressively constructed cage.
Stepping it up, Emma finds her eyes and holds her gaze, revealing the true extent of her worry. “She cries, you know? When she thinks me and the unappreciative dolt – his name’s Henry, by the way – are asleep. She can’t eat; she can’t sleep without crying out for you.”
Despite a flicker of something undefinable in her cold eyes, Cora has the audacity to simply raise her shoulders. Emma bites back a smirk, for she has fallen straight into the trap she has set, Cora’s features having already given so much away. It’s amazing that no heart can hide.
“You know what? Maybe this was a mistake,” Emma says, abruptly slapping her flattened hands against her jeans.
“Maybe the reason she looks like every day is a fucking struggle is because she saved you,” She shrugs, appearing nonchalant. “Maybe she misses Gold – she did choose him over you, once, didn’t she? And hey, I guess that explains how she was doing so well during the curse? When she thought you were dead, I mean.”
Plastering a smirk on her face, even though it kills her to think of how fucking tortured Regina’s state is right now, she turns to leave.
It is almost satisfying, being thrown into the wall by explosive magic, because it’s the reaction she wants – the one worthy of Regina.
“Be under no allusion,” Cora says in a voice like honey, “The only thing that changes with my heart is how deeply I love my daughter; I would still take great pleasure in ending your pathetic existence right here.”
Emma tips her head back and laughs, even as the pain around her chest makes her feel like she’s going to vomit.
“Sure thing, just take another thing Regina loves away from her,” she wheezes out, too short of breath to even panic about the implication she just made.
“Will she be worthy of an apology this time, huh? Will you leave her to move my body herself like she had to Daniel’s?”
Without another word Emma falls to the floor in a heap, and with deceptive strength Cora hauls her to the door, eyes ablaze.
“My love for Regina runs deeper than anything you could imagine, Emma Swan, and she is worthy of everything,” Cora says fiercely. “If you believe me on nothing else, believe me on that.”
Cora’s puts a hand to her heart, hammering away in her chest as she approaches the manor.
With an air of something she doesn’t truly feel, her delicate knuckles beat against the solid door, and Emma Swan swings it open with a smile forming on her lips before she sees who it is, and then that same smile falls away like water. “No,” is all she says, shaking her head.
Before the door can close in her face, and before she can kill Emma Swan for having the audacity, Cora pushes a small wave of magic out to reopen it – not enough to hurt anyone or cause a fuss, but enough to at least get her toe through the door, to at least have a chance, no matter how undeserving she may be.
“No,” Emma snaps, her mouth setting angrily. Then lowering her voice consciously, she leans close and hisses, “No, okay? Today’s the first day in a while that she’s actually felt like going into work, so just, no.” She looks almost, almost sorry as she shrugs, saying, “Try the weekend or something.”
“No I need to see her now,” Cora demands, stepping into warm home. “I’ve been without her long enough.
She feels Emma’s eyes narrow on the side of her face, scrutinizing her and her intentions, lasting awkward moments before Emma sighs, stepping out of the way and motioning for the boy to gather his things for school. Cora waits until the door closes with a quiet snick, and looks up toward the stairs, dread in her stomach.
One, two, three, four, her heart seems to beat ten times the number of each one.
Five, six, seven, eight, inhaling deeply, she strengthens her resolve with her earlier words: it had been too long.
With that in mind, she quickly climbs up the stairs, made much easier by the attire this world had to offer her. But everything grinds to a heart-wrenching halt when she finally, finally lays eyes on her again, on Regina.
She is dressed only in an undergarment set that leaves very little to the imagination – not that she hadn’t seen it all before, she thinks with disgust, but still with the feeling that had been there before her heart, only stronger now, dirtier – and it becomes clear in seconds that Emma Swan wasn’t exaggerating about her state.
“Oh, my love,” She exhales out, and after hearing the resulting gasp, she barely has time to counter Regina’s unnecessary spell of defense. “I am so sorry,” Cora rushes out, her eyes fixating on Regina’s off-color skin tone, her protruding notches, her gaunt features. “I am so sorry,” she urges, vehement.
“Mother,” Regina says, standing bare, with her mouth agape.
As though she remembers then, everything coming back to her in flashes, Regina appears to find a wall to construct in seconds.
“You’re sorry?” she laughs, but Cora can see the way her eyes are shimmering, her chest heaving and beginning to flush with emotion, “As am I. Leave.”
“Regina, please,” Cora says lowly, making Regina think of all those months ago, when Cora had come to her in the mausoleum.
“No, no,” Regina shouts, tearing slipping down her cheeks as she moves away from her mother and begins trying to unzip her pencil skirt with trembling fingers.
Cora feels razor sharp pangs in her chest, suffocating, watching Regina shake and try to regain control of her breathing.
“You left me,” She continues. “You’ve been off doing whatever the hell it is you’ve been doing, and I suffered! I’ve- I’m...suffering,” Regina drops the skirt then, drops her façade, and sinks down onto the edge of the bed, weeping into her open palms.
Cora can hardly breathe at having done this to her only child.
“And for what,” Regina pleads, sounding more like a little girl than a grown woman, “What did I do?”
“What did you do?” Cora repeats, incredulous, swiping a hand through the air in disgust. “How could I even look you in the eye after what I’ve done?”
“After what you’ve done to me,” Regina sobs out, shaking so wildly that Cora can’t help herself – she goes to her, and wraps her arms around her, and fights her to hold her even when Regina fights her touch with a terrifying intensity.
Without feeling this, feeling it in every facet of her being, she would have simply bound Regina and touched her as she pleased, feeling every inch of the body beneath her cool hands, savoring every single one of her reactions.
But now the notion horrifies her, although not as much as the burning does, when she absently recalls how it had felt.
“My sweet girl...” Trying to soothe her when Regina finally relents, she runs her hands through Regina’s short hair and strokes, touches as much as she can and tries not to contemplate how much her heart prevented her from feeling.
As though she knows through, Regina moves closer into her arms and rests her head into the crook of her shoulder. “After what you made me live through,” She whimpers out, voice hoarse and small. “And do, and feel,” she gasps, shudders her breath out in a fresh rush of fury, of heartbreak.
“And then because it’s too much for you, because you can feel how much it hurts, how much something so disgusting rots you from the inside out, you leave me! You made it so that I could only function with you, and then you take away everything!”
Cora just holds her close, listening to her evils as she runs her hands over smooth flesh, maddening conflict and disgust at war for it.
“You were supposed to love me,” Regina moans out, tears rolling from her eyes and down off her jaw, her chin.
“I do,” Cora hums, gathering every ounce of truth she has in the entirety of her being, trying to show her that this is why she ran and this is why she can barely stand to look at her because Regina is so beautiful, and heart or no heart that doesn’t change, what Cora felt hasn’t changed, only grown complicated and intensified. “I do.”
But love isn’t the problem. Loving Regina would always be effortless with a heart, because she is her child, she gave her life. She brought her into the world and sustained such a precious thing from her own breasts.
Everything else is the problem, how it has spread into her heart like a disease.
How everything has become sick and disgusting and feels as sick and disgusting as Regina had said it did.
How, even now with Regina in her arms, love is not the only thing she feels.
“You do?” is the disbelieving reply, light and trembling, burning with hope.
Cora opens her mouth to answer, leaning forward with smile, and with a start she watches Regina’s eyes flutter in preparation. For a kiss, it dawns on her, because although it wasn’t real, and although she didn’t have a heart to be capable of loving, Regina’s starving need for any affection had always resulted in the same depraved acceptance of the scraps Cora would salvage for her.
It’s a foolish notion to believe that Regina would expect anything different, after the ways she has bended and manipulated and shaped her into needing it that way, especially now when she has been rejected once more, her trust shattered.
So instead of words, Cora leans forward a little more, ready to press perhaps the most reverent of kisses she has ever pressed on any part of Regina’s skin. It’s not too late, she denies. They can begin anew, be the way they were supposed to be.
But before she reaches her mark, Regina tips her head back a fair bit and the motion causes the kiss intended for her forehead to land directly on top of the scar on her lip – the one Cora put there.
Her insides run white hot then, at war with herself. confused. conflicted. disgusted. yearning. needing.
“I could have never imagined how much,” Cora whispers out against it like defeat, the only surrender in her life as she closes her eyes, and feels Regina stop breathing.
“Show me, Mama. You haven’t shown me for so long, please.”
“Again,” Regina pleads, not ten minutes later, thighs trembling and soaked.
They are slow and deliberate, fucking with the most grace they ever have, emotions causing magic to send items astray, and when she tries to remove Regina’s underthings with a flick of her wrist, everything freezes as a reminder of how wrong it is, how she shouldn’t be doing this.
It almost works, too, her heart and magic stopping her from defiling her daughter once more, but Regina whimpers, tells her that she hasn’t come since it was her fingers buried deep inside of her, so tight, and Regina’s honest filthy words resemble those of a lover so startlingly, so absolutely, that Cora’s magic burns both of their things away before her heart has chance to thump twice.
Cora’s lips find purchase in the nape of her neck, and Regina tilts her hips as a finger slips inside her.
“I’m so sorry, my love,” Cora breathes through gritted teeth, feeling her own daughter so tight and hot and wet, clenching around her finger and choking down gasping sobs. “This is...”
“This is punishment,” Regina pants out, her grip on a wrist forcibly pumping Cora’s dexterous fingers, her face etching into an expression of divine pain. The beauty of it causes such heat to erupt from the top of her head to end of her toes, and Cora’s eyes shut away the images to keep from seeing them, to keep from feeling them.
For yes, this is a punishment, but whose punishment it is remains unclear.
3 || black queen + swan queen // punishment.
thank you so much for reading. i hope it was okay.
