Cheaterpilled

Kill the dove She/her | 19

[kingdoncest]

PDEARDZ : just a little bit

Dt @langdonmelism

[thepittrat]

Melissa, I'm Sorry | mel/frank | E | wc: 958 | nsfw!, infidelity, dirtbag!frank, brat!mel

It was dark save for the light coming from the dashboard. The backseat of Frank’s car was hot, stuffy, and steamy; the windows fogged up and blurry. It had been sitting in the August heat all day, while he worked his shift at the hospital. Now, with the sun long gone, the moon filling its place, the car no longer burned white hot from the scalding touch of the sun, but the absent heat still remained, lingering heavy in the compact air.

The heat that Mel and Frank’s bodies were creating didn’t help things either. The AC was working as hard as it could to keep up, but the AC in his little crappy car was no match for the high heat of the day.

They’d been doing this dance for months, so it was no surprise when Mel ended up in the back of Frank’s car straddling his lap. And she liked it; she liked it maybe a little too much. Liked the way his hands moved up her body, feeling her curves. Liked the way her hands felt grasping at the sweat-soaked hair that trailed down the nape of his neck.

What she didn’t like was that she couldn’t have him. She could touch him; she could make him squirm under her, but she couldn’t have him, not in the way she wanted to.

“Come on, Frank, can’t you just let me feel it?”

Mel moves her hand toward the tent in his scrub bottoms, getting so close before Frank swats her hand away.

“No, Mel, that’s cheating, and I’m not a fucking cheater.” He roars, his voice echoing in the small space.

Mel bites her lip, hanging her head low, defeated. “Sorry.” It’s all a show; she knows he likes it better when she’s sad, makes him feel like less of a bad person, like he’s just healing a poor, sick girl.

“Mel, don’t do that. You know I want you, baby. I want you so fucking bad.” He takes her face in both of his palms, tilting her head up so that they are eye to eye. “You know I’d fuck you right here in this parking lot if I could.”

“I know, Frankie, but I want you—I want you now.”

Mel rocks her hips forward, her clothed cunt brushing against his erection. His hands move from her waist to her ass, grabbing her in his hands, pulling her further up his cock.

“Fuck, that feels good.” His head falls back against the seat.

Her hands roam his body, grasping his shoulders as she continues moving her hips above him.

She’s pissed; she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t. Why the fuck did Abby get to have her Frank? He assured her that they hadn’t had sex in months, but she knew that he was lying to her because the last time she saw Abby, she was already starting to show. He had knocked up his wife again but still wouldn’t fuck her.

Even though she was beyond pissed at him, she still needed him desperately. Needed his stupid, intoxicating touch. The way he would wrap her hair around his finger and whisper dirty things real close to her ear. The stink of smoke lingering on his skin, making it linger on hers too.

“Does Abby make you feel like this?” She pours salt straight into her own wound.

Frank’s breaths become more labored as she quickens her pace, working herself up and down him in measured thrusts.

“No, never, Melly.” The last word falters, coming out half-moan, half-plea.

He leans into her, hoping to catch her lips in a sloppy kiss.

“Uh uh,” She waves a finger in front of his face, pressing it to the soft red of his lips. “No kisses, that’s cheating.” She says in a mocking tone.

She bites the sharp part of his jaw before moving down his neck, licking into his jugular, his pronounced Adam’s apple. His skin is wet and glistening with her saliva just the way she likes it. She wants him covered in her.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a fucking angel.”

She’s an angel, but she can be the devil when she wants to be.

“Your fucking angel.” She corrects.

Frank’s hands are on her hips, pressing her down, putting more pressure on his dick, and equally on her clit. His wedding ring digs into her through her clothes. She writhes on top of him, chasing her own orgasm. Abandoning his pleasure for her own.

“That’s right, baby, you’re mine, all mine.”

His hips buck up, rutting into Mel, the mix of both of their movements creating the perfect environment for an explosion. And hell, if they weren’t both about to burst.

“Please make me come, Frankie. I’m so close.”

He grabs her tits in his hands, kneading them, pinching at the hard peaks under her scrub top, which only gets her there quicker.  

“Just like that, baby. Goddamnit.” Frank stutters, his words a cry.

Strained gasps and moans fall from their open mouths, both of them cumming at the same time. So incredibly close but miles away from one another.

“Why won’t you let me have you, Frankie?” Mel asks, her voice hushed, quiet but speaking volumes.

“I can’t.” Tears stream down his face, covering his shirt in wet droplets. He’s a blubbering mess, and he doesn’t know why (or, more realistically, he knows exactly why and it scares him), but every time Mel makes him come in his pants, he can’t stop crying.

Their foreheads connect, both wet with sweat. Their lips are so close to each other’s, but they don’t touch; they never touch. She wipes the tears from under his eyes.

It’s not cheating if they never take their clothes off, right?

//

title from zeppelin v by the flat stanley’s

[drmelbows]

😛

[audreyvoilax]

[kingdoncest]

PDEARDZ : just a little bit

Dt @langdonmelism

[zivistardust]

Mel mentions her husband a few times in passing to some new med students, and they paint a picture of the man in their heads. Another weird mousey academic. Maybe he’s a historian something. They picture someone who could fit into the cast of the big bang theory, a gawky strange odd ball guy who would match King like a bookend.

She mentions eventually her husband being a doctor as well, there’s something in her tone like she thought they would know that which is… odd? How would they?

Dr King has step kids. Which takes them by surprise. Her husband seems to be a dweeb, and he’s been married before? Huh.

Eventually they see her ring. It’s in a silver chain on her neck. It’s surprisingly pretty. It’s got a fairy like unique setting to it. “My husband got me some rubber ones to try when we first got engaged but I hated the feeling. This is just the best option for me.”

Well that’s sweet of him.

For all she talks about my husband made this last night and oh my husband read that and sorry I was just thinking about this joke my husband made comments, she actually seldom discusses the man in question.

Not beyond doctor, married before, tall.

She gives them little to work with.

So it’s quite the shock when one day Dr Langdon takes her hand after a trauma, and softly asks “Hey, you okay Melly?”, bending down to look in her eyes. And she shakes her head, he mutters that he knows, baby, and pulls her into a hug. He rocks her against his chest and mutters in her ear and kisses her head.

And it startles them, because obviously dr King and dr Langdon are friends but they’re both married it’s-

Oh.

It’s not inappropriate at all. They’re married to eachother.

[drmelbows]

i can't decide if that's penny or her first baby that's your discretion but regardless for melpreg summer you can see she's cooking up another delightful addition to the langdon-king household.

[rosenfinchzz]

Summer nights 🌙

My new favorite thing to do, drawing pregnant Mel ✨👏

[drmelbows]

starting off melpreg summer day 1 with a bang 💜💜💜💜💜

[rosenfinchzz]

Older Mel with a dress ✨

[fellowshipincynicism]

a revelation of your own

or: bible camp age gap fic for @kingdonweek day one: different first meeting

mel king/frank langdon | 12k | complete

She wanted so desperately to touch Him, to thread her fingers into His hair or to scratch at His back, but she was fixed in position. Arms out as though she herself was the one on the cross. Mel enjoyed giving herself over, delighted to be the one at His mercy. She’d let Him do whatever He wanted to her, her passivity rooted in total faith and trust. He would care for her. He would give her what she needed. He always paid attention. So what if He woke her up in the middle of the night and dragged her across camp to fuck her against the side of a cabin? Who was she to question what He thought was best for her?

for @lunarfuneral

read on ao3

[annieadew]

MEL WITH HER HAIR DOWN MEL WITH HER HAIR DOWN MEL WITH

[kingdoncest]

In honor of Father’s Day Mel should be creampie and knocked up by Langdon

[coffeealwayshelps]

say my name

mel king x frank langdon | explicit | 1.4k words

Mel was the only one who called him Frank.

He wasn’t quite sure how it happened. For years, people called him Langdon. It started as far back as high school. Maybe even the end of middle school. The only people that ever called him Frank were the members of his family, both immediate and extended.

He asked people to call him by his first name for a while. It just felt like something to offer up, a way to let people know that he didn’t mind it if they used it. He didn’t mind being called Langdon, either. He preferred it in high school actually, since Frank wasn’t exactly a name he wanted his friends calling him. As Langdon, it was easier to be louder and funny and the guy who was there for a good time. Frank liked watching history documentaries on Saturday nights for fun. Langdon was the captain of the cross country team and could shotgun a beer in ten seconds.

It got easier the older he got. He wasn’t quite as embarrassed about his name, but he wasn’t really inviting people to call him by it either. It wasn’t until he started interviewing for med school that he truly got over it. There was something more professional in introducing himself as Frank Langdon, maybe. He wasn’t quite sure what the shift was, but he offered his first name up to the people he was closest to: his girlfriend, the friends he saw every day. There weren’t very many people that took him up on it, and most everyone he knew continued to call him Langdon.

Even Abby, when he got serious enough with her to offer, declined to call him Frank. She made a comment about it once, with a little frown: “It makes me feel like I’m talking about my grandfather. I can’t moan the name Frank.”

Frank resisted the urge to point out that Abby’s grandfather’s name was Milton, which was different (and arguably worse) than Frank. Still, he didn’t push it. He’d been Langdon for years, and it was fine. It was all fine.

It wasn’t until he’d come back—back from his ten months of leave, his two stays in rehab, his deteriorating marriage and his new divorced dad apartment—that he gave Mel the option to call him Frank. It was the fourth shift they worked together, and they were taking a break out in the ambulance bay. Mel turned to him, eyes wide behind her glasses with that sweet smile on her face, asking him a question and getting his attention by saying, “Dr. Langdon?”

So he blurted, “You can call me Frank. If you want.”

There was a long pause, and Frank imagined it would be like every other time. She’d acknowledge his offer, but she’d go on calling him Dr. Langdon. In fact, he was pretty sure that she never referred to him as anything other than Dr. Langdon, almost as if she was trying to remind him that he still deserved the honorific. Or at least that he was worthy of it.

And out there, on a very hot and humid but beautiful summer afternoon, Mel King smiled. “Sure,” she said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. “Frank.”

Generally, she didn’t do it while they were working cases together. If they were in the breakroom, though, he was Frank. If they were charting together and he tugged on her braid, he was Frank. When they got pizza together after shifts, he was Frank. When they met up in the park while he was walking his dog, he was Frank.

Mel always said it with ease, like she didn’t mind that it was an old-fashioned name. Like she liked it. For the first month that she called him by his first name, Frank had to constantly remind himself not to smile like an idiot. Mel looked at him, and he was Frank.

Everyone else they worked with continued to call him Langdon. He got it, of course. Frank wasn’t the best name ever. It usually brought to mind a grandfather, so at least he’d be set for when he was seventy. Plus, they were used to it, and it wouldn’t be an easy habit to break even if he insisted on the change. Frank was his name, though. It was nice to hear someone saying it without making that weird face.

He tugged on the end of Mel’s braid and didn’t bother to try and hide that he wanted her attention. Mel would turn around and shoot him a look, and he would tug on her braid (or the end of her ponytail if he was lucky and it was a really good day) again. Then she would say, “Frank!” in that voice that was half-amused and half-exasperated and it always got to him.

They would run into each other at the farmer’s market and she would always greet him warmly: “Hello, Frank.” They walked together and would eventually end up getting lunch from a nearby cafe. Frank cherished those weekends, knowing that Mel was giving up time that she could be doing something on her own.

She called him Frank in front of his kids, which delighted him to no end. He couldn’t explain it, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to look too deeply at it. There was something in him that felt a little lighter when Mel would say, “Hey, Frank!” and then Tanner would turn around and smile at him.

Sometimes he would tease her in other ways, too, like when he would take the box of tea that she wanted off the highest shelf in the breakroom, holding it above her head, just out of her reach. Mel stretched up on her tiptoes, fingertips just grazing his wrist while she wrinkled her nose and sucked her teeth and frowned at him. (He didn’t think that she would appreciate the fact that he thought it was adorable.)

Mel would huff and puff and poke his side and still he wouldn’t give in. He inevitably said something that bordered right on the line of inappropriate, just to see her blush. Usually it was a variation on, “Tell me what you want.”

Without realizing it, Mel gave him exactly what he wanted. She would huff again, roll her eyes, and exclaim, “Frank!” And then she would settle down and sweetly ask, “Can I have my tea, please?” Frank felt like he could fly every time.

The first time that he kissed her—hands in her hair, tongue swiping against her bottom lip, body shaking against hers—she breathed, “Frank,” against his mouth, almost like a prayer. Frank wanted to bottle that feeling up, knowing that it would be worth millions if he tried to sell it (He would never. He couldn't give that up, or let anyone else feel it. It was for him and him alone).

The first time his cock was deep inside her, his hands tight on her hips, Mel pressed whispers of his name into the skin over his throat and his clavicles and his chest. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his shoulders, and held him close as they rocked together. He’d already heard it from her a million times, but he wanted to hear it again.

“Say my name,” Frank panted against her lips. Fingers digging into the soft skin of her waist, he tilted her hips to angle that much deeper inside her. “Say it, baby. Say my name.”

Mel arched beautifully beneath him, eyelashes fluttering. “Frank!” she gasped. Everything—her arms, her legs, her cunt—tightened around him, making Frank groan and drop his head against her neck. “Frank, oh, I… oh please, oh…”

“No one else can make you feel like this,” Frank grunted, feeling a little insane. How could he feel anything less, when Mel King was so beautiful beneath him? “Who’s… Who is…?”

It felt so good, and he was so close, and he knew that she was, too. And because Mel knew him as well as he knew her, she moaned and said, “You, Frank. It’s you. You make me feel this good.”

Two years later, while they lounged on their porch swing together, Mel slid her hand over the baby bump poking out from beneath her t-shirt. She grinned up at him, and the absolutely delighted look on her face made Frank lean over to press a tender kiss to her lips. She slid her hand over his heart, her fingers curling into the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

“What do you think of the name Frank for the baby?” Mel asked, her eyes alight with mischief.

Frank laughed out loud and kissed Mel again, because she was just too damn cute. “Our baby deserves their own name,” he said, and Mel giggled, confirming that she was fully just messing with him. 

Still, Frank couldn’t help but add: “But it’s not a bad name. Not at all.”

[audreyvoilax]

You look good in my glasses

[kingdoncomes]

MY SILLLIESSSSSSSSSSSSS

[xskywalker21]

ptmc gala 🥂