Warnings: Angst, violence, canon-typical blood and gore, language, hurt/comfort
A/N: i wanna thank yall for sticking around during my hermit era, in the time ive been gone i am now officially a junior at a university majoring in aerospace and it’s a fuckin nightmare and i hate everything and god help us all literally kill me and I will be posting INCREDIBLY slowly because of that (I’m talkin weeks or months in between updates yall, im sorry I can’t dedicate more time to this but I am going to finish this fic within the next handful of chapters idk maybe 5 or 6 so you shouldn’t have to wait too too long). As a heads up there will be hard angst as we enter the final arc, there will be hurt and it’ll get dark but everything is gonna turn out alright so thanks for sticking with me and continuing to stick with me. im sorry if you dont like it or your expectations were subverted or if this isn’t what you’d hoped it would be after following and waiting around for so long but this was planned a long time ago and it took me a good year or two to recognize that I started writing this fic for me and now I’m going to end it writing for me and I hope yall can respect that
ALSO I asked my best BEST FRIEND in the entire world @cptnbvcks to collaborate with me for this after we both took a very long break from creating and she drew some GORGEOUS artwork for this chapter so it will be posted at the end, everyone please go follow her and say hello
ps brittany girl you’re a fuckin menace i had to use my own two ears and listen to ethan literally say the words “the mandalorian cums, hard” what the fuck was that im actually suing
anyways chapter below the cut lets get serious yall
sorry I had to take a sip of water a year and a half ahem ah yes like I was saying rough day chapter 20 will be posted on Sunday March 12 2023 at 9pm est thank you
Warnings: SMUT, somnophilia helloOooo everyone I am BAAACK, oral sex, face sitting, cockwarming, domestic kink idk if that’s even a thing but it’s in here, mentions of death, canon typical violence, descriptions of hunting an animal, ends on a cliffhanger, this might actually be the longest most descriptive explicit smut I’ve ever written I was left alone for too long send help
A/N: 😏😏😏 hiya yoditos missed yall like hell, thanks for sticking with me in my 100+ day long era of broodiness I swear to god I’m gonna fuckin finish this story if it’s the last thing I do
***
Even after all that excitement and adventure, if there was ever one single moment with Din you’d want branded into your memory forever, it’s this one.
Choose your d*ddy bearded 👑
OSCAR ISAAC + beards
The Nativity Story (2006)
Balibo (2009)
Robin Hood (2010)
Drive (2011)
Inside Llewyn Davis (2013)
Ticky Tacky (2014) (short film)
Ex Machina (2014)
Life Itself (2018)
Dune (2021)
Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader
Warnings: Pregnancy.
"Hi, baby," he picks up on the second ring, "everything okay?"
"Everything's perfect," you tell him, "I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch? I'll bring something by headquarters and we can sit on one of the benches outside?"
"You sound nervous, honey," it's half a laugh, "are you sure everything's okay?"
Reassuring him has him begging for Thai food, "or whatever you want, baby, you know what I like well enough by now," that has you plugging in directions for the restaurant near headquarters he always brings home with him.
When you get to his department, the receptionist just waves you in with a hello and another agent asks if you've gotten your hair done recently. You have but that's not why you're smiling ear to ear right now.
Reaching Marcus' office, you hear him caught in a conference call and slowly open the door to peak around. He waves you in, muting his line and saying, "I'm so sorry, baby, do you mind sitting in here and I'll make it up to you?"
He leaves his chair, grabbing one from the front of the desk to drag it around and clears a spot for your lunch on the flat surface.
"Only one entree?" he asks, his finger hovering over the mute button on his call awaiting your answer.
You nod, "I just wanted dumplings and rice, you can unmute yourself whenever, I'll shut up."
Shaking his head and mumbling something about how you're already quiet to begin with, he unmutes himself to make an input before muting himself again and turning back to you, "it shouldn't take long, just trying to figure out how to dole out this new case, it's half art half murder and there's an international twist."
Covering your mouth, you ask around a bite, "so if you have to go to, like, Paris or Madrid, I get to go with you.... right?"
"I'll see what I can do," he winks, unmuting himself once more to say goodbye to his colleagues.
"Marcus," you laugh, "I don't think I heard a solution to your problem in all those words."
"It's the FBI, gorgeous, not NASA."
Looking around his office, you abandon your food to stare out his window and the surrounding buildings of DC.
"What's on your mind, baby?"
When you turn to look at him, he beckons you to him, his thighs spreading out to give you room between his legs and his hands find your waist as you find your way in front of him.
His eyes are deep brown, a dark so deep that it still takes your breath away to this day and it's your breath that hitches now under his touch.
"If you're looking for a little afternoon action," he smirks up at you, "I will I could say I had the time but I have a meeting in half an hour and that's just not enough time for what I want to do with you."
"No, baby," you push his hair back and watch his eyes roll back as well, "I got something today and I wanted to show you."
That crooked grin widens further, "you got lingerie under there?"
"No!"
"You know I like those plain cotton panties the best anyway," he pushes forward to press a kiss to your cloth covered hip, "easier to replace when I rip them."
You want to reach for your purse, to give him what you came here for but he keeps pulling you into him; he keeps planting kiss after kiss to your sternum, your ribs, the sides of your stomach. He's so gentle and full of love in those big brown eyes while you play with the hair at the base of his skull that it just slips out. No picture. No big gift. No pomp and circumstance, you just say it as he presses another kiss to your stomach.
"I'm pregnant."
The air shifts and you look down at him, nerves pooling in your belly and welling in your eyelids as he looks up at you from his seat.
His eyes are dopey and soft, a million emotions etched throughout them and you beg, "please say something."
He turns, reaching down to the bottom drawer of his desk and pulling it open, "I've been preparing," he says, gesturing to the drawer full of baby clothes this small part of his office has been playing closet to.
"So this is fine?"
"This," he begins to finger the buttons of your dress, undoing the ones at your lower belly, "is perfect."
He kisses your warm skin, his hand skating under your skirt to gently rest against your stomach as your own hand finds his soft curls again.
"Hi, baby," his lips are ghosting across the surface of your belly and you can hear the tears in his voice, "I'm your daddy."
He looks up at you again, "do you think she can hear me already?"
"I don't know, daddy," you wink at him, "but I don't think it hurts to talk to her. Or him. Or whoever they decide to be."
He nods, "I'm gonna play so many art documentaries to your tummy! I hope they decide to be an artist."
"Well," you scrunch your nose, "they'll certainly be a nerd."
"I love you," he says before breaking eye contact and pressing his lips just under your belly button, "and I love you, little bean."
Pairing: Frankie Morales x Santiago Garcia x Will Miller x F!Reader x Benny Miller
Wordcount: 2k
Warnings: Smut. Sex Pollen. Gang Bang. M/M. F/M/M. No Benny/Will though. Dub-Con bc pollen.
Summary: The five of you get hit with a sex pollen and take care of each other.
A/N: Someone requested reader x the tf guys and this is one of the only ways I see it happening. i barely looked over this so major apologies
It starts feral - it starts like a violent impulse. The five of you know all about that - all about losing control and just letting the other take over. The flat side of your coin that shudders and vibrates like a predator - that sticks its jaws out and bites before sniffing.
You get the worst of it - the gas exploding in your face - shooting up the synapses of your nose. It’s in your mouth - all over your chin and your eyes burn. It’s pink - it’s the color of hothouse blooms - the ones that dripped from window boxes in Louisiana. That’s what you think about before it actually starts to hurt - your brain zeroes in on the begonias and the petunias and the ivy that you admired on Canal street.
It hits the others because you’re screaming and they’re already in the room - already surrounding you like a barrier of muscle and flesh and concern.
They make it to the safehouse before it actually begins to work - before it begins to spread through your veins and make your cunt clench around air as you whimper like a dog in heat.
**
Your body is taut with agony when Will carries you through the door. He’s gasping from the effort - from holding you. His face is coated in a thin film of sweat - his cheeks lush and red as his lower lip trembles. When he peers down at you - his pupils expand - gorging themselves on all that blue.
You grasp his face to yank him down to your mouth. The first kiss feels so fucking good that it hurts, that it makes your belly tighten up and your tits ache. He practically trips over himself - the both of you falling over until you’re shoving at his shirt - his pants.
All of you know what this is. It’s a literal urban legend among soldiers, but you believe it now. You believe it enough because it feels like your bones are going to jut out of your skin - it feels like you might explode.
You are so sensitive that every touch startles you. Benny is ripping down your shirt - Santi is next to you - his voice rough and desperate as he guides you through it. You think you’re in the kitchen because Will yanks your ass to the edge of a hard table before he cages your hips with his huge hands and thrusts into you. You spasm around him - coming immediately - and then it just keeps going - climax rolling into the next as he just pounds into you.
“Jesus baby,” he hisses. But there are no more words - just low, rough sounds from all of you because your brain is somewhere between your legs and your heart is bouncing in your throat.
When Will rubs your clit - you jerk with it - spurting liquid that glosses his whole lower stomach - the divots in his abdomen.
Pope’s fingers are twisting in the mess - catching your slick as he shoves it into his mouth. Frankie leans over - his hand firm around Pope’s dick - his lips dragging slow and gorgeous across his shoulder.
You bite down on your lower lip - your belly cramping up with another pulse of nausea. Will’s hips are stuttering into your pelvis - your ankle over his shoulder. You feel the weight of his spend when he finally cums - the way it moves sluggish through your fluttering walls.
“Are you okay?” he manages to murmur.
You shake your head - reaching for someone - anyone. “I need more.”
**
It’s all really fucking unbearable. You go blind with it. There’s a thick cock inside you at all times and then just deep voices sweet-talking you until you bend and go soft as your nails scramble against someone’s muscular shoulders or back or ass.
“Fuck.” Santi pushes forward just an inch - enough that the head of his dick nearly pops inside you. “You’re so damn tight.”
He slides forward a little more before pulling back out.
“Jesus Pope,” Will growls. “Just do it. - she’s in pain.”
You like that about Will. The way he protects you. You’re a big girl - you can save yourself - you have saved yourself a number of times. But there’s something wonderful about the way Will keeps to you - a shadow against your back - his fingers pinching your waist to let you know he’s there.
Pope slams forward - hard enough that it lurches you up the table. You’re going to have splinters in your skin.
“Just so soft,” Pope whispers into your ear. You whimper beneath him - he’s pressed so close to you that his body grinds perfectly against your clit. He’s got his nails digging into your wrists - pinning them above your head. “Our stubborn little brat finally letting us ruin her.”
His hips snap into you - a brutal thrust with each word: Our. Pretty. Fucking. Baby.
Christ.
You can’t see beyond the hump of Santi’s sweaty, golden shoulder. His dark stubble rasping against your cheek as he turns his face to kiss you all tenderly like he isn’t just fucking the absolute shit out of you.
Like this isn’t just a solution - an answer - medicine after being wounded.
There are so many noises - the deep grunt from Frankie as Benny shoves himself back against him. Will’s fingers circling and gathering all the wet between your legs between Santi and your bodies. You lose track at some point.
Santi fills you up and it spreads warmth through your pussy and when Will lifts you off the table - it slides thick and slow down your thighs. He doesn’t wipe you - doesn’t stop it - he just grips your ass and holds you up against the wall.
“Baby girl,” he mutters - as he licks the sweat from your throat. “I’ve fucking wanted this.” He sinks inside - his cock punching up into something deep. It makes an embarrassing noise - a slick squelch as Will just rams through Santi’s cum to get to the heart of you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing your lips to his jaw.
Your skin hurts - burns - your stomach twists into something sharply painful. Frankie is there - suddenly - right next to you - his dark eyes blown black due to the size of his pupils. He stares down at the place where your cunt is swallowing Will and then he’s touching you right there - his index and middle finger circling and rubbing your swollen clit. He lifts the hood of your sex to hit closer - spreading your essence through your folds - his fingers dipping around Will’s plunging length.
It snaps pleasure through your belly - makes the pain ease into something bearable. He leans over to kiss you - grabbing your face as he licks into your mouth. You shudder - your climax bursting lightning-quick between your legs - your cunt convulsing around the thick of Will’s cock.
“Shit,” he groans. “Fuck that made you soak me, pretty.”
***
Benny takes it slow - his lips are swollen from Frankie’s cock and when he moves them against yours - you taste salt and musk and that mint gum he’s always chewing. He tangles his hand into your hair - holding it in place. His stubble drags across your shoulder - your bare tit. He moves lazily - tenderly - and it’s not enough - it’s not enough at all.
You’re still a fucking mess - still the worst of the group and how the fuck was that even fair? When Benny slips out of you - you nearly sob - the heels of your hands shoved against your eyes as you bite down on your tongue.
“What is it, baby?” Santi mumbles as he drags himself across the floor - his lips on your skin - his nose in your hair - the need for touch is out of control.
“Hurts,” you gasp. “Jesus - I thought - I thought it would ease up.”
Frankie is there - sliding between your parted knees before he buries himself to the hilt. There’s a pinch of pain - an aching stretch despite the fact that you’re near-liquid - your cunt raw and gaping. He’s got his hands framing your face - his lips on your chin. “Hey,” he soothes. “Hey - look at me.”
You crack an eye open and he’s above you - present - his face still very fucking Frankie with how adoringly he’s watching you. He rolls his hips a little faster - his cock knocking something hot in your core. He’s heavy and slick with sweat and your nails catch in his unruly beard - your thumb sweeping over his cheekbone.
It’s a fucking mess. All of it. The threads now holding you all together. You’d been close and now - well now - it’s something else. Frankie’s cock still wet with Benny’s spit as he drives it up inside you. Will’s mouth tasting like Santi’s. Santi crawling next to Frankie - his cheek shoved against his so he can join him in watching you fall apart.
The weird love of it all - the way Santi had muttered how badly they had wanted to fuck you - make you cum - make you theirs. The intimacy of both Fish and Pope pinning you down and forcing you to gush around Frankie’s cock.
No one can ever know about this.
But you can keep it - you can hold it safe and secure. All of you have done worse things.
After all - this felt loving. Even if it was a fucking drug - it felt like they were saving you in a different way. It felt like it had just torn down the barriers of propriety and let them have a reason. You think of all of them - the nights spent pressed between them in the dark. The time you’d been shot through your shoulder and they had taken turns pushing their fingers into the damage to keep you from bleeding out.
Frankie flips you over - yanking your hips back so you are on your knees. Your nails are digging into the floor - your palms scraped up but you can care who can are - it all feels like bliss - like each stroke of their cocks or their fingers or tongues is drenching you in cool, clear water.
“Frankie,” you pant - tears spilling down your cheeks and you don’t know why. It’s all too overwhelming. Someone else has his hand between your legs - the pads of the fingers calloused and hard and you know it’s Will without even looking. You could smell Will out if you wanted: woodsy and basil and cordite. There’s bullet skin on all of you - sharp, metallic paint from years of warfare. You could be miles from the war - from a fight - and the air between you would still burn with the waft of a smoking gun.
Benny’s suddenly in front of you - his thighs spread - his hands on your cheek. You let him put his cock in your mouth - let him drag the heavyweight of it over your tongue. The punch of salt from pre-come - from sweat and still holding the faint tang of you.
Another hour passes or maybe a day - a week. You don’t know. At some point - you see yourself in the mirror - your splayed out on a bed - tattooed with bite marks and bruises and when you open your legs there’s white - there’s their cum seeping out from your puffy cunt. It shocks you because you’re full of them.
You like it.
“We got you,” Will murmurs as he slips behind you - as he slides his hands across your sore body. His chin over your shoulder - his breath warm and sweet. “We’ve got you.”
It all inevitably begins to calm - the poison slowly leaving the five of you with each hour that passes. You’re stretched - you’re sore and raw and chafed. You can’t even walk properly.
Someone manages to get water down you. Pope holds you up in the shower - his face pressed against your own as he pins you to the tile wall. He doesn’t fuck you though. He just washes your hair - strokes his fingers between your legs - tugs a small, mellow orgasm from you before cleaning you out with his tongue.
Frankie brings you food. Benny brushes your hair. Will is just Will as he holds you in his lap and slips soothing, mouth sounds against your neck.
It’s fucking weird. Like a strange domestic sort of family dynamic where they’ve all essentially fucked each other except Benny and Will because of the obvious. You’ve never rescinded control - never allowed it because you had to prove yourself in so many ways - even when the boys had already accepted you.
“Give in, baby,” you hear them. “Give in. You’re ours.”
Open up.
Be yourself.
The possessive beat in their words - under their tongues and in their fingers when they grip you - hold you - fuck you.
Summary: You are a receptionist at the VA. Frankie Morales keeps calling. Yearning ensues…
Rating: E (18+ only)
Warnings: age gap (legal), dilf!frankie, praise kink, voice kink, size kink, low self esteem, discussion of addiction/ptsd/trauma/triggers, divorce drama, no use of y/n, no beta reader, DDLG🎀, unprotected piv sex, oral m and oral f, hickies galore👅, mild BDSM (cuffs⛓, choking).
Masterlist here
AN: Whatta ride... but all things come to an end🥺. i'm blown away by the support for this fic. Thank you all 💕.
Chapter Five
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Frankie had his own mental list of stuff he needed to do before you would arrive. He dunged out his closet to make room for your clothes. It was long overdue. He had a lot of things he didn’t wear anymore that needed to go. He went out and bought some more plates and silverware since his two plates and Rosie’s plastic plates would not do. He no longer looked around his home with a sense of loneliness, now he pictured all the places you could fit in. He could see you reading by the window in the living room so he bought a comfy new chair to put there. He noticed your small plant collection in your apartment and thought you’d maybe like a bigger one in the back yard so he bought a planter box.
He was reading your novel, titled Our Little Kingdom, while your candle burned. You didn't give it to him at first. While you were in the bathroom and Frankie washed your dishes, he noticed a stack of papers poking out in the trash. It was your manuscript. When you came back and saw him reading it you tried to take it back but Frankie insisted and you caved. It was good. Frankie wasn't just saying that because he loved you. He could see how great writers had influenced you and still it was uniquely your voice. The story, too, was compelling. He couldn't help but imagine you as the protagonist as she was just as sweet and clever.
You were making good progress on your list. You had put in your two weeks notice and started to applying to jobs in Miami. You enjoyed working with veterans so you hoped you could do something similar again. As two weeks went by you were disappointed you still hadn't heard back from job interviews. Packing was a little more difficult. You didn’t know what was worth taking and what was worth leaving. You knew Frankie had most everything already so it was a matter of picking your most special things. The rest you were slowing taking to Goodwill in batches.
You had completely forgotten you sent your book in to publishers until a flurry of emails came in on the same day.
Frankie woke up in the middle of the night to his phone ringing. He sat up pulling the phone towards him. It was you. Why would you be calling so late? Maybe something was wrong?
“Frankie?” You sounded congested. He heard a sniffle. Frankie furrowed his brow at that.
“Hey. Is everything all right?”
“ They-they-“ you could barely get it out “they rejected me.”
“Who?”
“All of them. All of the book agencies.” You threw yourself onto your bed, hot tears running down your face.
“Oh no! I’m so sorry, sweet pea.” Frankie didn’t know whether to be sad or angry. He thought your book was amazing. He sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp. “They’re idiots. Every one of them.”
“They’re experts, Frankie.” You felt more tears leak from your eyes. “Maybe I’m just not a good writer. Maybe-Maybe-" You hiccuped and low cry slipped from your mouth. You covered your mouth, taking in raking breaths. It was agony to admit this to him when he believed in you most. You felt like you had let him down. Frankie's heart literally ached in his chest as he listened to your quiet weeping over the phone. He waited for you to continue, feeling his own eyes grow misty.
“Don’t disappear on me, little pea. Let me hear that voice of yours.”
You were unable to speak. Scared of what may come out. You felt like your walls were closing in around you and mocking you. How did you ever think you could be a writer like all your favorite authors? You were so stupid, you thought.
“I let you down.” You said shakily.
“No no no, little pea.” Frankie said quickly. “You could never let me down. I don’t need to a book agent to tell me you’re a good writer. I know you’re writing is beautiful and perfect. Just like you.”
His praise caused another wave of tears from you.
“Daddy…” You bawled.
“I hear you, baby.” Frankie heard his own voice shake with emotion. He never hated the distance more than he did in this moment. He needed to wrap you up in his arms. “Close your eyes, sweet pea. Use that big imagination of yours. Pretend I’m there with you.”
“Imagination isn’t good enough, daddy.” You blubbered, fat tears slipping from your eyes.
“I know, baby.” Frankie’s heart was breaking. “But try for me okay?”
You clamped your eyes shut and tried to focus in on his breathing on the other end of the phone. Frankie did the same, closing his eyes.
“Good, sweet pea. Focus on daddy.” He wished he was there to comfort you, wrap you up in his arms and shield you from the cruel cruel world. “I’m next to you. I’m holding you so tight.”
“Hold me tighter!” You begged holding your pillow pet to your chest.
“Okay. I just did.” Frankie whispered closing his eyes as if it would be more real. “Feel that?”
“Yeah…” A moment went by as you steadied your breathing. Tears eventually stopped falling, drying against your cheeks. Frankie’s steady breathing anchored you.
“I loved your book. It was really really good. And fuck it, I’ll publish it myself.” Frankie couldn't help but raise his voice.
“Silly.” You sniffled.
“I’m serious, sweet pea. Who needs those stuck up assholes.”
“Hmm yeah, you’re right.” You agreed, voice softening with sleepiness. You pushed your face into your pillow. You could still smell Frankie if you really focused. "I miss you, Frankie."
"I miss you, too."
"I still haven't heard from any jobs. And- maybe I'm just not good enough and-" You felt more tears fill your eyes.
"Shhh shhh" Frankie interrupted "Listen to me. You are the best. The right thing will turn up i'm sure of it."
"But it's the only thing left on the list!"
"I know..." Frankie pulled over your copy of the list that you wrote for him. He had crossed things off as you reported to him. "Let's see if they get back to you tomorrow." Maybe he was being too hard on you, making you get a job first. He only wanted to put it on there to give you some independence over the move. He didn't want you to feel like you had nothing to do once you got here.
Frankie waited until your breathing evened out. He called your name quietly. When he got no response he assumed you fell asleep. He didn’t want to hang up. He missed you so fucking much and he felt helpless.
When he woke up the next morning, he said goodbye to Rosalia as usual, called in sick, and started driving north. Fuck the list. You were coming home with him now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Of course Frankie called you telling you he was on his way. You felt bad for making him miss work but your excitement overpowered any guilt. You set a timer for 14 hours and started packing with new energy. Your eyes were still puffy from your tears last night. But you repeated what Frankie said like a mantra. Who needs those stuck up assholes. There were tons of ways to self publish nowadays. It didn’t have to be through a publishing house.
When you ran out of things to clean up and pack, you watched out the window waiting to see Frankie’s blue pick up. You had changed into sleep shorts and a t shirt. While you had a plan to dress more sexy you ended up accidentally packing that surprise in one of the boxes earlier today. It was getting dark when Frankie finally pulled up. He looked exhausted but still… Frankie. He was wearing his favorite hat and grey t shirt. You ran down to the street to meet him. He’s pulling empty boxes from the bed of the truck when he sees you sprinting towards him.
“Sweet pea!” He smiled as you launched yourself into his arms. “Oof.” You buried you face in his shirt inhaling his scent. He rubbed your back affectionately enjoying having you back in his arms. “Aw… it’s okay. It’s okay now.” He murmured when he heard you sniffle. He oddly felt his chest swell with pride at how much you missed him. He never had to worry about how you felt about him. He peeled your head off him by stroking your head. You looked up at him with a watery smile. “You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”
You snickered at his dad phases. “I’m ready. Well… I still have some stuff I need to pack up. Too heavy.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” Frankie kissed you chastely. You pulled him in for more though, fisting his shirt in your hands. “Mmm no no. Work first. Play later.” Frankie pulled back. You pouted but have to agree with his logic. The faster you packed the faster you could leave.
Back in your apartment Frankie got to work taking apart your bed and dresser. You finished packing your clothes and dusting.
“Hey what’s this? It was under the bed.” Frankie walked over holding a gift bag with pink tissue paper sticking up.
“Oh…” You quickly grabbed it away. “That’s supposed to be a surprise. For Rosie.”
“You got her a present?” Frankie was touched by your thoughtfulness.
“Yeah I mean… I figured it might make her like me more.”
“She already likes you, but she can never have too many toys.” Frankie stepped further into your space. You realize at that moment how sweaty he was from moving all the furniture. It was so late at night and you were both exhausted but the sudden rush of his thicker smell made you feel wide awake. “Can I see what you got her?”
You handed the package back over, watching him gingerly move the tissue paper to the side. His eyes softened when he saw the pink unicorn pillow pet sitting in the bag. A mini version of yours.
“Am I too presumptuous making us matching? I don’t know if she likes unicorns and-" Frankie cut you off, dropping the bag and kissing you up against the wall. He wasn't even sure what part of that turned him on, just your sweetness and wanting to be a part of his family. He held your face in his hands, his grip forcing your mouth open. You felt yourself start to grow wet. You loved when he just went caveman on you. Sometimes he didn’t have the words to express how much he loved you so he reverted to touch; to deep kisses and deep thrusts. His hands trailed down your exposed legs so he could lift you up on his hips. You held onto his shoulders as he swung you around. The bed was gone, the couch was gone.
"Fuck. Hang on."
You laughed as he ran you out to the kitchen to set you down on the counter. You pawed at his pants trying to undo his belt, but Frankie was faster, unhooking your bra from under your shirt and then pulling your shirt over your head. He took your hand and placed it over his large bulge between his legs.
“Feel what you do to me…” He gritted through his teeth his chest rising and falling sharply.
“Frankie- oh my god-please let me” You pulled he belt loose. At first he stops you. “I didn’t get to last time. Please?” He bit his lip considering your plea. He really just wanted to give and give and give to you. But he had been mean last time, not letting you touch his cock. So this time he doesn’t stop you as you unbutton his pants and pull him out of his boxers. You licked your lips as his cock fell into your hand, curving up towards you.
You hopped off the counter, getting onto your knees before him. “Take off your shirt… please?” He obliged. You kissed down his belly feeling it tighten against your lips. He watched you with fire in his eyes, his mouth slightly parted. You pushed the rest of his pants and boxers down. You stroked him slowly with both hands.
“You have to tell me what you like…” You held his cock and licked a long stripe from the base to the head making him moan weakly. You repeat the motion adding a few kitten licks at the end, lapping up the stray drops of salty precum. Frankie was struggling to think let alone speak. He gripped the countertop above you, his other hand going to the back of your head.
“Just- go slow.” You followed his instructions, slowly taking his length in your mouth. “Good-good girl.” He clenched his jaw staring down at the sight. Your hot mouth felt like heaven and your innocent eyes staring up at him was just the cherry on top. You took his dick as far as you could before you choked lightly. You were by no means an expert at giving blowjobs but you were frustrated you couldn't go further. Your jaw was already aching from his girth.
“Mm don’t hurt yourself, baby.” He hissed unable to hold his hips still, he jerked a little against you making you whine. “Come back up, remember to breathe.”
You slowly pulled off his cock before going down again. Frankie’s hand on your head gently guided you so you didn’t hurt your throat. You added suction, applying pressure on the underside of his cock. You started to find what he liked based on his sounds. You still couldn’t take him all the way in your mouth, tears gathered in corner of your eyes from the effort. Your hand pumped the rest that wouldn’t fit.
“Oh fuck.” Frankie gasped his hips jerking again making his cock slide back into your mouth. You moved one of your hands to his hips looking up at him to say it was okay. “Are you-you want me to fuck your mouth, sweet pea?” You nodded eagerly. You put one of you hands on his length where he wouldn’t fit. He gathered up some of your hair in a makeshift ponytail and slowly thrust into your mouth. Like he always did, he waited for you to nod and give him the okay. When you did, he couldn’t help the growl that left his throat. Drool leaked from your mouth onto your chest as he sped up using your head more forcefully. You were sure you had soaked through your panties. It turned you on so much to see him take control, use you for his pleasure, but still his grip on you was firm and gentle. Every grunt went straight to your pussy. “Such a good girl letting me use this hole, too.” He rasped. “You’re crying around my cock.”
“Mmhm” You hummed around his dick making him groan. He was close. He was battering the back of your throat. You could recognize the furrowed brow and the tightening of his balls. You intensified your ministrations.
“Good girl, good-I’m gonna cum in your little mouth.” He pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop. “Stick out your tongue, sweet pea.” He ordered. You obeyed, watching greedily as he fisted himself harshly the tip of his cock hitting your tongue. You placed your hands on either side of his tummy, anticipating his load. His chest was flush and his eyes were fluttering shut. When he came he yanked your head up harshly as cum splashed onto your tongue. You loved this perspective, watching his face contort with pleasure. You tried to take every drop but some dripped down your chin. “Swallow.” Frankie ordered roughly still maintaining his grip on your head. You swallowed, his warm cum sliding down your throat.
“Thank you, daddy.” You smiled up at him, wiping some of the stray cum off your chin. He let go of your hair, now stroking your head then your jaw. “Did I do well?”
“So good.” He chuckled and helped you stand, his breath still ragged. You squirmed pressing your thighs together. The move not missed by Frankie. “Did sucking my cock make you wet, sweet pea?”
You nodded shyly before saying “It’s okay though. You don’t have to-it’s late and we have a long drive tomorrow.”
“You’re always looking out for me but what kind of man would I be if I left you all needy. But you have to ask for it, sweet pea.”
“I kinda just want your mouth if that’s okay?” You asked feeling too tired for a full round of sex.
“Of course.” Frankie smiled. “Your mattress is still in the bedroom.” He led you in and helped settle you on the center of the mattress. He pulled your shorts and underwear off, staring at your slick reddened pussy. "You soaked your little panties, sweet pea. Did you touch your little flower while I was gone?" Frankie asked, pulling apart your legs.
"I-I tried to. But it wasn't the same."
"How come, little pea?" His patronizing tone had your cunt clenching. He was teasing you.
"It wasn't your fingers. I needed you." You huffed, trying to push his head down onto you.
"Mmm poor thing." Frankie chuckled, the rich sound giving you goosebumps. He felt his cock start to harden again despite you just sucked the soul out of him moments ago. He slowly licked up your slit moaning at the taste of you. Your head tipped back as he he slowly inserted a finger into you. "Eyes on me." He instructed. You forced your head back down so you could make eye contact. "Play with your tits for me." You obeyed, squeezing the flesh in your hand. He returned to his task, taking your clit in between his lips, quickly escalating your climax. Your hands never stood a chance. He inserted a second finger, curling it against you. They were so thick and long it hit that spot deep inside you it made you gush.
"Oh my god. Daddy-I'm-" You teetered on the precipice your breath caught in your throat. Your entire body erupted in flames as your mouth open in a silent scream. Frankie's eyes widened as your pussy strangled his fingers before fluttering uncontrollably. Your cum dripped onto his hand, he quickly replaced his fingers with his tongue trying to catch it all.
"That's it." He felt you finally take a shaking inhale. "Breathe, sweet pea. Breathe." Exhaustion hit you hard as every muscle relaxed.
"I'm sleepy..." You slurred.
"It's okay. You can go to sleep." Frankie leaned up kissing you, smearing your slick all over your mouth. He returned to licking your pussy less aggressively though. "I got you."
You nodded before drifting off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning you dump the last of your stuff at goodwill, packed the truck, turned in your key, and hit the road. You were bouncing in your seat with excitement. You hadn’t ever traveled south of DC. The landscape was beautiful. You and Frankie took turns driving, belting Fleetwood Mac on repeat. You forced Frankie to take obligatory selfies to remember the journey at rest stops or whenever the view was worthy. Over halfway to Miami you paused at a rest stop for a quick nap. Frankie was anxious to get you home and he didn’t want to stay put for too long. He was used to long drives and quick naps, but you weren’t. He didn’t want to exhaust you because there was so much he wanted to show you when you arrived. You laid across the backseat of the truck with your head in Frankie’s lap as the sun was going down.
In the early morning Frankie finished the drive. His own excitement increased when he was back in the city. You had your head nearly sticking out of the window looking at everything. You couldn’t believe how sunny and warm it was here. Frankie turned down a residential street. “Almost there.” He said. You buzzed in your seat.
Frankie made one last turn into a driveway. You instantly got warm feelings looking at the house. It was painted seagull grey with white trim. It was wonderfully symmetrical with two windows on the first and second floor with window boxes outside the first floor window. The front yard was nicely mowed.
“Your house is so cute!” You hopped out of the car, your legs enjoying the chance to stretch. The air smelled slightly salty being so close to the beach. The sun felt wonderful on your skin. You could have laid down in the grass and just fallen asleep.
Frankie showed you around his house with your hand in his, pointing out random things of importance in his giddy state. You followed him around with bright adoring eyes. Despite looking forward to this moment for a while, you barely looked at anything except for him. You could care less about where the tile for the fireplace came from. You didn’t remember Frankie’s story about how Will messed up his back moving in Frankie’s couch in because it was hitting you over and over again that you were home with Frankie. You didn’t pay attention to the story behind Rosie’s crib because Frankie was here with you. His warm hand holding you close like you may disappear. He was here with that damn cute excited voice as he showed you around his home, soon to be your home.
“Sweet pea? Earth to sweet pea?”
“Hmmm?” You smiled apologetically. Standing in the kitchen, the sun pouring in from the window above the sink bathed Frankie in golden light making him look ethereal.
“I said- we should start moving boxes in before it gets dark.”
“You haven’t shown me everything yet.” You realized.
“What did I miss?”
“Your room…” You swung your entwined hands back and forth.
“Our room, sweet pea.”
“So I won’t be sleeping on the floor?” You laughed.
“Never.” He kissed you briefly. “I just haven’t cleaned up in there and I need to make some space for your stuff and-“
“Frankie.” You quiet his rambling with another kiss. You couldn’t stop kissing him. “Your house is immaculate. That’s the room I want to see.”
He swallowed harshly before he led you up the stairs and down the narrow hallway to his room. While showing you the garden and the other rooms he was giddy but now he seemed more flustered. When you opened the door you could see why. Your candle was sitting on his bedside table. It was the first thing you saw when you walked in.
You immediately break away from him, going to inspect his bedside table. Glimpses of Frankie that made you love him all the more. Your candle, your books, your list, his sergeant pin, and an old alarm clock.
“Was this what you’re so embarrassed about?” You asked picking up the candle. It was almost used up. He averted his gaze. The back of his neck bright red which you recognized as a sign of his nervousness. “Frankie…” You set it down and took both his hands in yours. You couldn’t even convey what it meant to you. He had missed you that much that he burned your candle.
“I have the real thing now.” He said pulling you against his chest, dragging his nose over your cheek in reverence. You hummed in contentment. “This is our room, sweet pea. Our home.” He whispered.
“Our bed.” You added moving his hands to rest on your ass, wrapping your own around his neck.
“Eager girl.” He tutted, kissing just below your ear, squeezing your ass lightly.
“I can’t help it. I’ve waited so long, Frankie.” You tilt your head up resting your forehead against his.
“You’ll never have to wait again, princesa pea. I’m here.”
“Then I want you now.” You tugged him towards the bed. Falling down onto his comforter you were hit by a puff of his scent. Laundry detergent, old spice, and that indescribable musk that was Frankie. You barely got a chance to enjoy it before Frankie is falling on top of you. You laughed as he pulled you up the bed until you’re against the pillows. He's about to rip your clothes from you but-
“Wait wait- I have a gift for you.” His eyes lit up.
“Frankie…” You smiled “You didn’t have to get me anything.” He pushed away from you, walking over to his dresser. He pulled out a small package.
“Here.” He handed it to you.
You sat up. You felt guilty you didn’t get him a gift. You slowly peeled back the tape trying to save the paper. It was wrapped so nicely.
“Come on, rip it up. It’s just paper.”
“No… I wanna save it.” You argued, pulling it open finally. You stared down at the contents in your lap. It was a book with a pink cover and loopy writing. Our Little Kingdom. “Frankie… this is- this is my book.” You felt your eyes swim with tears.
“I know.” Frankie knelt in front of you. “I read it and it was so good. I wanted to get it bound. I was serious when I said want to publish it. I want to make it happen. But if you don’t want to at least we can enjoy it how it’s meant to be enjoyed.”
You flipped through the pages smelling the fresh paper. You reached the end and noticed Frankie had slipped in something as a book mark. It was a torn half of a check. “This is…”
“The check I tore up. I use it as a bookmark so I thought you would-“
You launched yourself at Frankie, a habit you learned from him when words were just simply not enough.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When you woke up, you were surrounded by Frankie’s scent, warm sun hitting your face. Frankie wasn't there. You heard movement downstairs. You threw on the first shirt of Frankie's you could find. You practically skipped down the stairs, heart leaping when you saw Frankie in his PJ pants and nothing else sitting at the kitchen table. His body was lit up in the morning sun, he looked like a goddamn dream. He was shoveling some cereal into his mouth but he stopped when he noticed you. He still looked so sexy to you in this moment, his strong arms and big hand gripping the small spoon. His chest littered with small hickies you made. You blinked a couple of times wanting to imprint this image into your brain forever.
“What are you doing up so early?”
“The sun woke me up!”
“Shit. I would have made you some breakfast or something.”
“That’s okay.” You smiled going to stand in front of him. You kissed him, licking some of the milk from his lips. Your hands rested on his bare golden shoulders. You loved how wide they were and how solid and warm they felt.
“Mmm is this mine, sweet pea?” He tugged at the Fleetwood Mac shirt hanging down to your thighs.
“No, it’s another boys.” You teased.
“Don’t joke about that, little pea.” Frankie warned with a small swipe to your ass.
“I’m sorry, daddy.” You giggled. “I was only joking. No one else has cool shirts like you.”
“You want some cereal? I can also make eggs or pancakes or-“
“I want-” You slipped your hand over his pants. You could feel his slightly hard cock sitting below. “This.”
“You already had some last night and you still want more?” Frankie groaned his thighs spreading further around you. “I thought you’d be sore, sweet pea.”
“I am.” You admitted kissing him quickly. “but I still want you.”
“Mmm…” Frankie pulled your hand away watching you pout. “I think you need to eat something first.”
“No I don’t!”
“Come on, I’ll let you sit on your special seat.” He tapped his thigh. You debated this. You decided to do what he asked, not wanting to test your luck so early in the day. You hopped up on his lab wiggling back until his semi hard cock was pressed against your back. Your thighs sitting over his legs, your pussy peaking out from his shirt. Frankie rested his big hands on your bare thighs rubbing the skin back and forth. You closed your eyes enjoying his touch. You could feel his breath against your neck as he looked down at the sight.
“Do I look good on my special seat, daddy?” You asked looking up at him.
“Perfect, my little pea.” Frankie smiled. He pulled the cereal over and you popped a bite in your mouth. You didn’t normally like cereal but since Frankie asked…
“Okay, done. I’ve eaten.”
“Woah I hardly call that eating.” Frankie shook his head. He placed a hand on your stomach, fingers splayed out over the entire width almost. He applied a little pressure which had you squirming again. God his hands were so big and warm just above where you needed him. “I can feel little rumblings telling me you’re hungry, sweet pea.” You rock against him more intentionally making him catch his breath.
“Not for cereal.” You bit your lip.
“One more bite, sweet pea. For daddy?” He rubbed his beard into your neck which never failed to make you to laugh.
You took another spoonful of the soggy cereal before looking up at him for approval. He chuckled as you chewed quickly. You looked so cute with your cheeks full. It made cock ache.
“Good job, sweet pea.” He smirked when you swallowed it all. He lowered his hand down to cup your pussy which was already dripping. You hand flew to his thick forearm.
You melted against him as he rubs your clit slowly. Last night was hurried and desperate but now it was like he had all the time in the world. You listened to him take large inhale against your neck, smelling you.
“You look so beautiful, sweet pea. In my shirt. In our kitchen.”
“Fuck…” You moaned. His fingers felt so wonderful and thick against you. You fucking loved the sound of that. Ours.
“I’m gonna fuck you on our table.”
He lifted you up with ease, pushing your back down on the table. The sun coming through the window bathed your body in soft light. You looked divine. Frankie had your legs spread wide, tongue on that pussy before you could even blink. “Holy shit. Daddy!” Your hands clenched into fists at your side.
“Sweet pea.” Frankie pulled off, lips wetted by your slick. You blushed under his hot gaze. “Why don’t you pull my hair?”
You whimpered as he took your little fist and put it in his beautiful locks. “I want to but… the last person I was with didn’t like it.” You turned your head to the side trying to hide your embarrassment. His hair felt like silk in your hands.
“Hey-“ Frankie gently grabbed your chin and turned you to look at him. “You don’t have to hide anything from me.” He was leaning over you, invading all your senses, but of course the aspect that hit you hardest was his voice. Soft and reassuring. That rich baritone that made you fall in love in the first place. “Pull my hair, baby, I wanna know how well I treat this pussy. You won’t hurt me.”
You nodded feeling your eyes wet with tears. His affection never ceased to shock you. He kissed you, softening your worried look with each stroke of his tongue. When you were relaxed, he returned to your pussy. He was a fast learner for the times, applying the pressure you needed with his tongue while hitting that spot inside your walls with his fingers. Your hands were laced in his soft hair tugging almost unconsciously.
“Fuck-Daddy" You gasped feeling your breath. Your stomach tightened but you still felt like you weren't quite to your breaking point. "I can't- I need- I need-"
"What, sweet pea, what do you need?" Frankie paused, looking at you struggle above him. You grabbed his hand which was holding your hip and moved it to your throat. "Holy shit." Frankie's eyes widened.
"I need you to push me over-" you struggled to think of how to explain it but Frankie started applying light pressure over your throat making your cunt tighten around his fingers. The strain on your airway finally brought you to the edge. He returned to your clit and didn’t let up even as your walls clamped and gushed around his fingers. Didn’t stop as your back arched off the table, your toes curled, and your hands pulled his hair almost painfully. He let go of your throat when you tapped his wrist and your breath returned ragged and sharp, extending your orgasm. You brushed some of Frankie’s hair from his forehead and he looked up, making eye contact, as his lips suckled on your clit lightly. You didn’t say anything for a moment, feeling your body come down from that peak, basking in Frankie’s loving gaze between your legs. You felt boneless.
“I love you.” You murmured. Frankie surged up, capturing your lips in a wet kiss. He pulled back and kissed the happy tears falling from your eyes that you didn’t realize had fallen.
“I love you, too. I’m never letting you go.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m home.” You wrapped your legs around his waist, needing to feel that promise inside you. Needing his promise filling you up.
“Are you sure you’re not too sore?”
“I’m sure.” You ran your hand through his hair, now addicted to the feeling of it.
Frankie slowly eased himself into your pussy. It was harder without lube. You winced a little once he was fully inside. Fuck he was so big.
"Am I hurting you?" Frankie felt bad and started to pull out.
"No please." You arched your back trying to hold him inside. "I'm okay. I want- I want-."
"Sweet pea..." He bit his lip as he struggled to resist thrusting into you.
"And if I can't walk- then you can carry me." You wiggled your hips. Frankie couldn't help but laugh at that not that he minded carrying you around. "Please, daddy." You asked one last time as you dug your heels into his lower back. Frankie placed his hands on your waist and started fucking into you slowly, withdrawing almost all the way out before thrusting back in again.
“I’m so proud of you… taking my cock like a good girl.” He kissed you softly, moving to kiss a train down your neck to your nipples and back up. "You're home now." You nodded in agreement. "This is our little kingdom, sweet pea.” Your shallow breaths slowly transformed into moans. You felt your muscles relax a little and signaled he could start moving faster.
Needless to say the cereal on the table shook and spilled as he fucked you. Spilled milk on your table. His cum spilled inside you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Frankie enjoyed hosting so much since Rosie’s birthday he wanted to have a Fourth of July barbecue. With your help he took the decorations to the next level. Hanging fairy lights over the patio, and renting a bouncy castle for the kids. In an act of irrational niceness, you had said it was okay if Laura came by, that way Rosalia would be there too.
Frankie was clear he had no desire to hide you. He wanted to show you off. Still, you dreaded meeting Frankie's ex. Rosalia had warmed to you quickly even preferring you to hold her. You already loved her so much. Today she wanted you to follow her everywhere and watch her play. Frankie was stuck behind the grill but he still could watch his girls playing. You were wearing a lovely red sundress which Frankie was looking forward to stripping off. It brushed your thighs in the breeze and it was perfect height for Rosalia to tug on when she wanted to be picked up.
“You’ve done a great job with the decor.” Laura appeared at Frankie’s side.
“Thanks.” Frankie smiled tightly. Her surprised tone confirmed that she always underestimated him.
“You’re been happier lately.” Laura studied Frankie.
“I guess.” Frankie shrugged turning one of the hot dogs for something to do.
“It just has me remembering the old days. Before everything with you happened.” Frankie prickled at that last statement. Everything with you. She always put it on him totally forgetting how she also made things worse.
“Frankie?” You appeared at his other side, eyeing Laura warily and doing little to hide your dislike. You had seen from yards away how Frankie tensed up, looking down. You wouldn’t let that slide so you went over. Finally removing your glare from his ex wife you look up at him, laying a reassuring hand over his forearm. “Uh- people are getting hungry. How soon until it’s done?”
“It’s ready now.” Frankie smiled down at you, instantly feeling more at ease. His answer let you know he was okay.
“Great I’ll wrangle everyone.” You smiled before darting back to the crowd.
“Who is that?” Laura frowned. “Someone's babysitter?”
“No.” Frankie shut off the grill facing his ex wife face to face. “She’s my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” Laura sounded skeptical. “She’s 12.”
“She’s a woman.” Frankie corrected her. “A woman I love very much.” He wasn’t going to listen to anyone look down on you.
“You should have talked to me before you brought her around Rosie.” Laura huffed, putting a hand on her hip.
“You had no problem parading your boyfriends around during our divorce.” Frankie shot back quickly looking to make sure they couldn’t be heard. “It’s in the court records so I doubt you want to bring it up.”
“Frankie…” Laura seemed to regret what she said.
“Let’s just… move on.” Frankie said as people started to draw near.
“Papa!” He heard Rosie squeal, toddling towards him.
“Rosie!” He picked her up, his anger instantly melting away. “Ready for your hot dog?”
As Frankie and the others started filling up their plates Laura crept closer to you as you were cleaning up some of the kid’s mess by the pool.
“Excuse me. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Laura.” She extended her hand. She was taller than you. Her face was tight as if she was holding in her sneer.
“Hi.” You decided to be nice, shaking the woman’s hand. You introduced yourself.
“So… you and Frankie. “
“Yes.”
“How long has that been going on?”
“A few months.” You said keeping it vague.
“And it’s going well?”
“Yes.” You grew annoyed by her vague questioning. Obviously it was going well since you were here. Her eyes were the total opposite of Frankie's. Hard and cold and icy blue. You quietly thanked god that Rosalia had inherited Frankie's eyes.
“Hmm he’s not doing that crazy thing anymore?”
“What thing?” You frowned.
“Well one time while we were together he stayed up the whole night because he thought some criminal or something was after us.” Laura laughed cruelly. You wanted to slap her for her lack of sympathy. What was funny about Frankie’s fear? “The psychiatrist said there would be delusions but that was just too much.”
“I think I’ve heard enough.” You snipped, trying to keep at least a polite facade. There were people just a few feet away. You prayed the couldn’t hear.
“Hey I’m sorry.” She schooled her features. “Don’t think I’m cruel. It wasn’t easy being with someone like that. I’m trying to look out for you.”
“Thanks for that. I think I'm good though.” You finished picking up the last pool toy and walked away before Laura could say more. You wanted to turn back and say something mean but you were determined to be the bigger person. You didn’t want to start drama that would hurt Frankie and Rosalia. You spent a good minute in the garage after putting the toys back, positively fuming.
“Sweet pea?” Frankie interrupted your thoughts, joining you in the garage. “Aren’t you hungry?”
"I was just cleaning up.” You said though your hands were empty.
“I saw Laura talking to you.” He watched you warily. Fear lapped at him. What did Laura tell you...“Everything okay?”
“She just… a bitch.” You huffed. Your word choice made Frankie burst out laughing. “I’m sorry I know you married her but how? She’s awful and rude and judgmental.”
“I know.” Frankie quieted his laughter, pulling you into his chest. “It wasn’t meant to last.”
“Because she’s a bitch.” You grumbled into his chest making Frankie laugh again. His tummy bounced against yours with his laughter. You loved it. You thought again about what Laura said. How cruel she had been in the face of Frankie’s PTSD. “If she says one more rude thing I may have to smack her.”
“You’re hot when you’re possessive, you know that?” Frankie smiled tickling your sides. “Come on, we should get back before our guests start to notice.”
“Alright.” You agreed, taking his hand and following him out of the garage. You felt Laura’s eyes on you two when you came back to the yard. Frankie got your burger set up for you before doing his. It’s the simple things that got you going; how giving he is. You tried to hide your blush from the onlookers as Frankie asked you ketchup or mustard.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Once everyone went home you and Frankie laid out a blanket in the back so you could watch the fireworks happening on the beach a mile away. He was quiet, at least more than he usually is. You didn’t know what to say to reassure him so again you reverted to touch. You placed your hand on his thigh reassuringly.
“Frankie?” You turned to him. “Do you want to talk about anything?”
“No.” He seemed taken aback by your question.
“Okay.” You moved closer to him until you were tucked into his side.
“You mean about Laura.” Frankie said after a moment. “Just- she didn’t say anything to you to make you upset right? She doesn’t get under my skin anymore. I don’t want her to get under yours.”
“She didn’t get under my skin.” You replied. She said nothing to make you insecure, just make you angry at her is all. “I’m just protective of you, you know. It seems like she was awful to you.”
“It’s fine.” Frankie shrugged.
“No.” You moved to sit on his lap, straddling him. “It’s not. You came back from your deployment probably in need of some comfort and all she gave you was judgment."
“She told you about that night.” Frankie hung his head in humiliation. You didn’t deny it. You didn’t want to upset him but part of you knew he should talk about this. Laura shouldn’t be the only one who holds this memory over his head. “It was my first night back. I just- I swore I heard gunfire. I was freaking out. I was probably acting really scary. I thought they came for me and she-Laura called the cops on me.”
“How could she…” You teared up on behalf of Frankie.
“I ran.” He continued, his voice thick. “I stayed a Will’s and calmed down. That was the end of the marriage.” He rubbed up and down your thighs under your dress. It always comforted him. You tried to think of what to say. His wife, the person who was supposed to love him the most, ostracized him and criminalized him.
Frankie was anticipating you to be afraid of him or push him away, but to his surprised you pulled him into a hug, holding his head against your neck like he was a child. He felt a sob rise in his throat and tears wet his eyes. You were so... kind. It was something he was still learning to accept and realize he deserved .
“You’re right.” You took a breath to relax yourself. “It doesn’t matter what she says. You’re mine now. Not hers.” You kissed Frankie on his nose then kissed his mouth.
“Always, sweet pea.” He rubbed his thumb over the area of your brow that furrowed in residual anger.
“I just wish there were some way…” you chewed your lip. “I have these-“ you pulled his dog tags out from where they hung between your breasts. “Reminds me I’m yours.”
“Maybe I need a necklace too.” Frankie smiled squeezing your thighs. That got you thinking…
“Can I try something?” You asked. Frankie nodded looking amused. You tugged at his shirt pulling it over his head. You never got over how broad he was. His toned arms were flexed holding himself up. You leaned forward planting a wet kiss on Frankie’s neck where it met his shoulder.
“Mmm gonna mark me up?”
You nodded and sucked harder till you were satisfied it would leave a mark. Pulling back you admired the red blooming where your mouth had been. It shouldn’t affect you as much as it did but you loved that he had a physical mark from you. He had scars here and there from cross fire and stab wounds. Some he wouldn’t go into detail. You loved them all but for once you wanted him to have a mark born out of love.
“I’m gonna give you a necklace, daddy.” You murmured tracing the path you would forge, down and around to the other side of his neck. You were gonna make hicks all around his neck like a chain. You leaned back down and planted another mark below and slightly to the right.
“Holy shit.” Frankie groaned, tilting his head back. He felt his cock start to harden under your attention. You slowly made your way across his hot skin until you had seven little wet hickies starting to show through the skin. You traced them with your finger, connecting the dots.
Frankie looked down, watching in fascination. His dog tags were a bittersweet thing, symbolizing his commitment to the military, but you wanted them. You wore them proudly, giving him more closure than 100 hours of therapy. But this... this new chain on his skin represented his belonging to you. “Beautiful, baby girl. Thank you.” He kissed you sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. You pulled away before he could deepen it. You start to lean down again like you were going to plant another hickie on him. He pushed you back and rolled the both of you over.
“Daddy! I wasn’t done yet.” You wiggled against the soft blanket.
“No it’s daddy’s turn now.” He pushed the straps of your dress down your arms, tugging your neckline down.
“But I already have a necklace.” You felt Frankie’s dog tags lying in your cleavage.
“Now you’ll have two. I spoil my girl like that.” Frankie teased. He kissed up and down your neck before settling on his starting place. When he started sucking it sent a lightning bolt straight to your clit. You gasped. You could feel him hard against your thigh, not fully yet. You rocked your hips impatiently, clutching his head against you.
“Be patient, baby.” He warned, pausing his work. You stilled your hips with a pout. “Good girl.” He resumed. You wanted to be naughty but you knew you’d never win that fight. Problem was you were loving his attention on your neck so much you couldn’t help but start grinding against his leg again. Your hand reached down and tried to stroke his hardening cock. Frankie pulled back, his lips swollen from giving you hickies. He was only halfway around your chest now.
“You’re being naughty…” Frankie chided, lightly slapping your hand away from him. You continued squirming under his gaze though you at least look apologetic. Frankie pulled away. “You don’t want your necklace?” Frankie pretended to be hurt.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.” You turned on the puppy dog eyes. “Just- your mouth feels so good.”
“If you’re not gonna behave I’m gonna have to make you behave.” Frankie’s mouth curled into a smirk. Your stomach flipped around in excitement. “Sit back up on your knees.” He ordered. You eagerly sat up on your knees, placing your hands on your thighs. Your dress hung around your waist. Frankie stood up and started undoing his belt. You got excited thinking he was going to let you suck his cock but instead he just pulled his belt from his pants and knelt down again. “Remember just say stop if you want to stop.” Frankie reminds you.
You nodded your eyes dilating, staring at the leather in his hands.
“Hands behind your back, baby.” He instructed. You obeyed your knees widening subconsciously. He tied his belt around your wrists. It’s not tight enough to hurt but you certainly could not move your hands without really trying. Frankie licked his lips, staring down at your vulnerable position. “Good little sweet pea.” He cooed. “Now you won’t be able to be naughty. What do you say?”
“Thank you, daddy.” You whispered feeling your cheeks burn at the depravity of your position. The smooth leather of his belt rubbed against your pulse point and Frankie’s smell filled your nose. You’re out in the open. Sure there was a fence but it still heightened your arousal. You were dripping you were sure of it. He knelt before you again to finish his hickies. He held your hair pulling it back to give himself more room.
You tried to lift up your arms multiple times but got stopped by the belt. You whined as he sucked another mark into you and you couldn’t get any stimulation in this position. Frankie let you moan and whine for him but he didn’t stop his mission. He finally pulled back, his hooded eyes evaluated at his work.
“Look at it, baby.”
You looked down at the curved line of hickies running from collarbone to collarbone. “Thank you, daddy, for my necklace. I love it so much.” You looked at his chest. You were matching now. Your lust was momentarily paused as a fresh wave of adoration washed over you. It was so much deeper than sex. Frankie noticed your change in expression and kissed you softly, bringing you back to the moment.
“You sat still for me so good. Now you can ask for what you want.” He strokes your hair softly.
“I wanna-I wanna suck you cock please?”
“Are you sure?” Frankie smiled. “You don’t want my mouth on you or-"
“No.” You shook your head. The emotions swirling in you from lust to love made you hungry for one thing. “I wanna make you cum in my mouth.”
“Fuck.” He groaned before kissing you hard, licking into your mouth. He never had someone as giving and kind and protective of him as you. He could have cried but there was no need because you were his forever. No yearning just living. He reached around to pull off the belt but you stopped him with a small voice.
“Leave it on.”
“Jesus fucking christ.” Frankie stood quickly. You sat up further, your hands still restrained behind your back. Your head was tilted up at him, your dress bunched around your waist, it was the most beautiful fucking sight.
Red blue and white fireworks dazzled the sky above. He picked you up bridal style and carried you inside as quickly as he could while you giggled in delight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Things started clicking into place like you were growing along some metaphorical ladder. You were finally where you needed to be. You got a job working at the VA in Miami, running their re-entry program. A small publishing house in Miami loved your book and agreed to publish it for a short run. Frankie took some money out of the Colombia account to cover the rest of the contract. Frankie had the book for sale at the shop pushing it on anyone who would enter. He was so proud of you. And that was all that mattered to you.
Frankie unironically planted sweet pea in the garden, telling you how they are slow to grow, but their delicate flower and sweet smell is worth the wait; just like you. Sweet peas were climbers, with the right support, they would bend to any shape. You knew you could go as high as the sky with Frankie by your side.
Could I have 13 and 70 from the smut list with King Arthur?
A/N: Yes, yes, you can. :D Also took some inspiration from the live-action Cinderella movie. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking.
Pairing: King Arthur x F! Reader
Warnings: 18 + only for smut, p in v
Masterlist
Prompts: “Your parents would be royally disappointed if they saw what you have on right now. Even more disappointed at what I’m thinking about doing to you.”& “I know all of your weaknesses.”
You fidgeted in your pretty gown for the eighth time in the last ten minutes, and your mother was less than pleased. “Stop moving, ungrateful child, this is your chance to impress the King! A chance for us to rise among the nobles!” she hisses at you, pulling your shoulders back. A ball in King Arthur’s court, wearing a corset that did little to help in the way of breathing, and your overbearing mother is breathing down your neck. Your sister beside you covered her giggles with a cough as you rolled your eyes.
“Oh, Lady Charlotte!” Mother smiles and thankfully leaves you for a moment alone. You take a deep breath and lower your shoulders, eyes scanning the room for exits.
“She will catch you, you know,” your sister giggles again, “and drag you right back.”
“I feel more like a prized bird on display than a woman,” you scoff, “does she honestly believe that the King is going to look at me in this ridiculous get-up and fall madly in love? We are peasants; how did we even get invited to this? Besides, I haven’t even seen this King before; what if he’s some hideous brute? Maybe that’s why they haven’t commissioned any portraits of him.”
“I’ve heard he’s quite handsome and young.”
“The average life span of a person is only fifty or so years, so how young can he be, twelve?” you groan at seeing the large plume of your mother’s hat coming back your way. “I need to get out of here before mother sells me to the highest coin.”
“Quickly then,” she shoos, “I know why you don’t want to meet the King; he’ll never compare with your handsome stranger.” She grins mischievously at you, and you hold your breath waiting for the fallout.
“How did you know about that?”
“Sister, darling, you are not very good at hiding your feelings.” You glare at her, and she giggles, “I also saw the two of you by the creek when I was out fetching berries last week. He’s quite handsome.”
“There you are!” Mother returns and puts her hands on your shoulders, pretending to show affection. “The King is coming,” she whispers with a grin and moves to stand between the two of you. You look over at your sister and give her your best pleading face, mouthing the words, ‘please don’t tell’ she smiles and nods with a wordless ‘promise.’
The trumpets sound loud, and a man stands forward to announce the King. People sitting rise to their feet, girls around you giggle like children, several pushing up their chests, biting their lips, or pinching their cheeks for some extra color. You stand there with a lump in your throat, trying to swallow around it.
When the King makes his entrance, the crown glistening off the top of his head, your mouth slowly falls open on a gasp. “Art?” you whisper, your mother shushing you; you can feel your sister’s eyes burn into the side of your face. Everyone around you bows and curtsies low in honor, but your body has frozen, your limbs no longer working.
“Curtsy,” your mother grabs your hand and pulls you down with a hiss, and you gasp, nearly falling to the floor with force. The noise draws his attention, and when the crowd rises, his eyes are staring intensely into yours. Those eyes you love, Art the apprentice, is the King of England. “He’s staring at you,” you can hear the glee in your mother’s voice, but all you feel is dread.
The music begins to play, and several Lord’s come up to him showing their offspring off like a cow at the market. And for a moment, his eyes leave yours, and you bolt. “Where are you going?” your mother moves to grab you, but your sister intervenes; God bless her. You walk as quickly as your skirts will allow towards the door to the gardens, and when you are on the threshold, an arm comes out to stop you.
“Wait, milady,” you freeze, half wanting to rip your arm from his grasp and slap him across the face for his misdirection, the other half wanting to turn and get lost in the deep blue of his eyes. “My love,” he whispers only for you to hear, “let me explain.” The second half wins, and you turn slowly, noticing the entire ballroom is watching the scene with rapt interest. His eyes, as blue as the sky reflecting off the sea, have you unraveling before him. “Dance with me?” he straightens to his full height, letting go of your arm and holding out a hand, “please.”
Your hand trembles as you bring it up and place it in his. The warmth that is usually so comforting seems to set your skin ablaze as you follow him to the middle of the ballroom. The music is slow, and you follow the steps with him in a carefully orchestrated dance. “Talk,” you whisper, “why did you lie to me?”
“I didn’t lie,” he grins, “not exactly; I am still learning my trade, just like an apprentice.”
You know all the eyes are on you, and you smile when he gives you a turn, stepping hard on his foot when you come around. He grunts but doesn’t stop the dance, continuing each step. “That wasn’t very nice,” he smiles and says under his breath. “Did you forget love? I know all your weaknesses.” His words light the fire in your belly, and you see the mischief in his eyes as the dance comes to a close.
“Would you join me for a stroll in the gardens, Milady?” he asks loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Your Majesty?” Sir Bedivere strides over quickly, “there are many ladies who wish to dance with you, my King; you wouldn’t want to insult them.”
“I need to make sure to give each of the ladies my adequate attention. Isn’t that what you told me, Sir Bedivere?” he grins as the other man nods with a thin line of his lips. “I won’t be alone, don’t worry, Sir Tristan will be my guard.” He looks over at the Knight, who has several ladies of his own to tend to, who nods with great reluctance. “See?” he claps the older man on the shoulder and offers you his elbow. “Milady?”
You don’t have much choice, taking his elbow and following him over the threshold and into the gardens. Sir Tristan follows several steps behind, and you walk into the sprawling greenery. When you are about halfway in, he turns with a whistle, “Oi, Wet Stick, bugger off for a bit; we need to have a chat.”
“You know this bird, boss?” he asks with a raise of his brow.
“Yeah, she’s the one I asked you to bring the invitation to,” you look up at him, alarmed.
“You invited us? Well, aren’t you just full of surprises,” you huff and walk further into the orchard part of the gardens, far from the prying eyes of the partygoers.
“Shit,” he follows quickly behind, and you hear Wet Stick snigger and walk off in the other direction. “Wait, darling, please.”
You whirl around with a finger pushing into his chest, “What game are you trying to play? Find some pretty peasant girl, make her fall in love with you, and then embarrass her in front of all the Nobility in England. Was that your game?” You walk away from him and pace back and forth, “I can’t believe I was so naive to think you cared.”
“I do!” he reaches for you and holds you by the shoulders to face him, “I do care, love. I didn’t want you to love me because I was a King, I wanted you to love me! Arthur, the man, not the crown. I never lied to you,” you glare at him with a hand gesturing to the crown on top of his head, “okay I neglected one small detail.”
“One,” you huff out a laugh pushing away his hands, “one small detail?! Arthur, you’re the fucking King of England! I’m only a poor seamstress, with an insufferable widowed mother, who only dreams of becoming a part of the upper class!” You feel the tears swell in your eyes as the truth all comes crashing down on your shoulders; the man you’ve been in love with for months is unreachable; theres’ no way he can marry you.
“Listen to me,” he reaches for you again and takes three enormous strides pushing your back up against one of the apple trees. “Look at me.”
Your mind won’t slow down, “what was your goal with having us come tonight? So you could shame me? Show off to the nobility that you are one with the people? Do you fuck every peasant girl you meet?”
“Listen to me!” he shakes your shoulders, and your eyes widen, looking up to see him. “Listen to me,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to your own, “there was no game. I saw you in the market ten months ago when I was in the city.”
“Ten months ago? I’ve only known you for six….”
“I didn’t know how to approach you; I couldn’t just go up to you and say hello I’m the King of bloody England, fancy a pint?” You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips, his curving up at the edges. “So I dressed in my old clothes, snuck out of the palace, and started slowly talking to you. Then we went for a walk, and I couldn’t stay away. You’ve bewitched me, love. My love for you is more powerful than the magic of the Mage.”
“Honest?” you ask quietly with trepidation, “do you mean that Art?” He smiles at the nickname he gave you, leaning down to kiss your lips softly.
“Promise, love. It’s only ever and will only ever be you.” He runs his hand against your cheek, and you lean into his touch, letting yourself breathe for the first time all evening.
“I love you too, Arthur; I’m in love with you.” His eyes soften as he gazes down at you.
“We have to go back soon,” he whispers, kissing you softly, “but do you think we got time for?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and you smack his arm with a laugh.
“Is that all you think about?”
He grins and takes a step back, “turn around,” he whispers with a wink. You turn around slowly, gasping when your hands are pressed further into the tree trunk. “Quiet love, don’t want anyone to hear us do we?”
He moves quickly, unlacing the top of your corset and peeling the back open, letting it fall to the ground, your breasts sagging with the relief of being free. He palms your breasts, placing rough, scratchy kisses over your exposed shoulders. His hands come around to his waist, and he pushes up several layers of your skirts, reaching for your pulsing heat. He turns you around, and you reach your hands quickly down to palm him through his leather breeches.
Your hands falter on the fabric, and you look down with wide eyes, “I-I made these,” your voice shakes, “they were commissioned a few weeks ago.” You look up to meet his warm eyes as he nods.
“I wanted to support you, and you are the best seamstress in the city. Only the best for the King,” he murmurs, almost shy.
“Well then, my King,” his eyes darken, “I will need to show my appreciation.” You tug open the breeches, and he slips them down his thighs, lifting your skirts the rest of the way.
He fumbles with the layers, and you giggle at the annoyed look on his face. “I swear, when we marry, I demand you just walk around naked at all times. These skirts are ridiculous.”
You don’t have time to respond, the words caught in your throat, as he lifts you and slides inside with ease. “Fuck, always so wet for me, love,” his hips snap inside you, and his mouth tangles with yours, swallowing your moans.
“Arthur,” you moan, feeling him stretch you on his majestic royal cock. This is not the first time you’ve fucked, having given Art the apprentice your virginity in the woods several months ago, but this was the first time you’ve fucked Arthur, the king, and he didn’t disappoint.
“That’s it, love, let me hear you, but only me, don’t want any of them damn nobles to know I already made my choice. That I already fell in love months ago with a beautiful seamstress in the market.” He grunts, and your cunt flutters around his cock with every word. The love between you flowing over with each thrust of his hips.
“I- ah, I love you, Arthur,” you whimper against his neck, slick with sweat. The air is thick tonight, the incoming storm leaving the air thick and dripping.
He pulls back to look at you, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips, “I love you, you’re my Queen, always have been.”
You buck your hips against him, cumming with a silent cry, head thrown back in ecstasy. He thrusts three more times, and then you feel him cumming deep inside you, thick and warm it dribbles down the inside of your thighs. He’d never done that before, always pulling out at the last moment. You open your eyes and look at him; his pupils are wide, almost black as he stares at you.
“Now they can’t say anything,” he mumbles, and you furrow your brow. “You may be carrying a little Prince or Princess now; I have to marry you.”
You grin at what he’s done, his cock still buried inside you. “You’re naughty,” you giggle.
“I’m naughty?” He asks with a smirk, “your parents would be royally disappointed if they saw what you have on right now. Even more so at what I’m thinking about doing to you.”
“And what’s that?” You shift your hips, and his eyes widen as you tighten around his cock.
His eyes soften, and he cups your cheek gently, bringing your lips softly to his own. The rub of his beard is rough on your cheek as he moves to your ear, “I’m going to end this party early and show you. I already made my choice a long time ago. But, are you ready?” He pulls back, looking deep into your eyes, “Can you stand by my side and love Arthur the King, as much as you love Art, the apprentice?”
Your heart catches in your throat, blood roaring in your ears at his words; you lean into his hand warmly and on your cheek and close your eyes. Opening them slowly and looking into the sea of blue, “I love you, all sides of you, that doesn’t change because of a shiny crown and a title.”
He slowly pulls out, and you whimper as he lowers you back to the ground, pulling down your skirts and fixing your corset. You both work in silence to be presentable again, his eyes bright as he smiles at you, “Then, let’s go,” he murmurs, reaching for your hand, “I think it’s time to announce our engagement.” He snickers as you walk along beside him back towards the party.
“What are you laughing at?” you chuckle, watching his eyes filled with mirth.
“Your mother is going to faint,” he laughs beside you.
You groan and roll your eyes with a laugh, “Good, maybe she will be quiet for a few moments.”
He booms out a laugh and pulls you close, kissing the top of your head, “oh my love, our life will never be boring.”
It’s 2am and for some reason I just got notified of this even though it was posted awhile ago?! I screamed thinking of 2am hornknee thoughts. But I shall read this tomorrow and lose my damn mind 😈
bet babe thanks for tagging me in that post hehe I’m bored. Who would you FMK across the SW trilogies? Can be from any of the 9 movies (or shows!) ... I think I know one already
Could I have 13 and 70 from the smut list with King Arthur?
A/N: Yes, yes, you can. :D Also took some inspiration from the live-action Cinderella movie. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking.
Pairing: King Arthur x F! Reader
Warnings: 18 + only for smut, p in v
Masterlist
Prompts: “Your parents would be royally disappointed if they saw what you have on right now. Even more disappointed at what I’m thinking about doing to you.”& “I know all of your weaknesses.”
You fidgeted in your pretty gown for the eighth time in the last ten minutes, and your mother was less than pleased. “Stop moving, ungrateful child, this is your chance to impress the King! A chance for us to rise among the nobles!” she hisses at you, pulling your shoulders back. A ball in King Arthur’s court, wearing a corset that did little to help in the way of breathing, and your overbearing mother is breathing down your neck. Your sister beside you covered her giggles with a cough as you rolled your eyes.
“Oh, Lady Charlotte!” Mother smiles and thankfully leaves you for a moment alone. You take a deep breath and lower your shoulders, eyes scanning the room for exits.
“She will catch you, you know,” your sister giggles again, “and drag you right back.”
“I feel more like a prized bird on display than a woman,” you scoff, “does she honestly believe that the King is going to look at me in this ridiculous get-up and fall madly in love? We are peasants; how did we even get invited to this? Besides, I haven’t even seen this King before; what if he’s some hideous brute? Maybe that’s why they haven’t commissioned any portraits of him.”
“I’ve heard he’s quite handsome and young.”
“The average life span of a person is only fifty or so years, so how young can he be, twelve?” you groan at seeing the large plume of your mother’s hat coming back your way. “I need to get out of here before mother sells me to the highest coin.”
“Quickly then,” she shoos, “I know why you don’t want to meet the King; he’ll never compare with your handsome stranger.” She grins mischievously at you, and you hold your breath waiting for the fallout.
“How did you know about that?”
“Sister, darling, you are not very good at hiding your feelings.” You glare at her, and she giggles, “I also saw the two of you by the creek when I was out fetching berries last week. He’s quite handsome.”
“There you are!” Mother returns and puts her hands on your shoulders, pretending to show affection. “The King is coming,” she whispers with a grin and moves to stand between the two of you. You look over at your sister and give her your best pleading face, mouthing the words, ‘please don’t tell’ she smiles and nods with a wordless ‘promise.’
The trumpets sound loud, and a man stands forward to announce the King. People sitting rise to their feet, girls around you giggle like children, several pushing up their chests, biting their lips, or pinching their cheeks for some extra color. You stand there with a lump in your throat, trying to swallow around it.
When the King makes his entrance, the crown glistening off the top of his head, your mouth slowly falls open on a gasp. “Art?” you whisper, your mother shushing you; you can feel your sister’s eyes burn into the side of your face. Everyone around you bows and curtsies low in honor, but your body has frozen, your limbs no longer working.
“Curtsy,” your mother grabs your hand and pulls you down with a hiss, and you gasp, nearly falling to the floor with force. The noise draws his attention, and when the crowd rises, his eyes are staring intensely into yours. Those eyes you love, Art the apprentice, is the King of England. “He’s staring at you,” you can hear the glee in your mother’s voice, but all you feel is dread.
The music begins to play, and several Lord’s come up to him showing their offspring off like a cow at the market. And for a moment, his eyes leave yours, and you bolt. “Where are you going?” your mother moves to grab you, but your sister intervenes; God bless her. You walk as quickly as your skirts will allow towards the door to the gardens, and when you are on the threshold, an arm comes out to stop you.
“Wait, milady,” you freeze, half wanting to rip your arm from his grasp and slap him across the face for his misdirection, the other half wanting to turn and get lost in the deep blue of his eyes. “My love,” he whispers only for you to hear, “let me explain.” The second half wins, and you turn slowly, noticing the entire ballroom is watching the scene with rapt interest. His eyes, as blue as the sky reflecting off the sea, have you unraveling before him. “Dance with me?” he straightens to his full height, letting go of your arm and holding out a hand, “please.”
Your hand trembles as you bring it up and place it in his. The warmth that is usually so comforting seems to set your skin ablaze as you follow him to the middle of the ballroom. The music is slow, and you follow the steps with him in a carefully orchestrated dance. “Talk,” you whisper, “why did you lie to me?”
“I didn’t lie,” he grins, “not exactly; I am still learning my trade, just like an apprentice.”
You know all the eyes are on you, and you smile when he gives you a turn, stepping hard on his foot when you come around. He grunts but doesn’t stop the dance, continuing each step. “That wasn’t very nice,” he smiles and says under his breath. “Did you forget love? I know all your weaknesses.” His words light the fire in your belly, and you see the mischief in his eyes as the dance comes to a close.
“Would you join me for a stroll in the gardens, Milady?” he asks loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Your Majesty?” Sir Bedivere strides over quickly, “there are many ladies who wish to dance with you, my King; you wouldn’t want to insult them.”
“I need to make sure to give each of the ladies my adequate attention. Isn’t that what you told me, Sir Bedivere?” he grins as the other man nods with a thin line of his lips. “I won’t be alone, don’t worry, Sir Tristan will be my guard.” He looks over at the Knight, who has several ladies of his own to tend to, who nods with great reluctance. “See?” he claps the older man on the shoulder and offers you his elbow. “Milady?”
You don’t have much choice, taking his elbow and following him over the threshold and into the gardens. Sir Tristan follows several steps behind, and you walk into the sprawling greenery. When you are about halfway in, he turns with a whistle, “Oi, Wet Stick, bugger off for a bit; we need to have a chat.”
“You know this bird, boss?” he asks with a raise of his brow.
“Yeah, she’s the one I asked you to bring the invitation to,” you look up at him, alarmed.
“You invited us? Well, aren’t you just full of surprises,” you huff and walk further into the orchard part of the gardens, far from the prying eyes of the partygoers.
“Shit,” he follows quickly behind, and you hear Wet Stick snigger and walk off in the other direction. “Wait, darling, please.”
You whirl around with a finger pushing into his chest, “What game are you trying to play? Find some pretty peasant girl, make her fall in love with you, and then embarrass her in front of all the Nobility in England. Was that your game?” You walk away from him and pace back and forth, “I can’t believe I was so naive to think you cared.”
“I do!” he reaches for you and holds you by the shoulders to face him, “I do care, love. I didn’t want you to love me because I was a King, I wanted you to love me! Arthur, the man, not the crown. I never lied to you,” you glare at him with a hand gesturing to the crown on top of his head, “okay I neglected one small detail.”
“One,” you huff out a laugh pushing away his hands, “one small detail?! Arthur, you’re the fucking King of England! I’m only a poor seamstress, with an insufferable widowed mother, who only dreams of becoming a part of the upper class!” You feel the tears swell in your eyes as the truth all comes crashing down on your shoulders; the man you’ve been in love with for months is unreachable; theres’ no way he can marry you.
“Listen to me,” he reaches for you again and takes three enormous strides pushing your back up against one of the apple trees. “Look at me.”
Your mind won’t slow down, “what was your goal with having us come tonight? So you could shame me? Show off to the nobility that you are one with the people? Do you fuck every peasant girl you meet?”
“Listen to me!” he shakes your shoulders, and your eyes widen, looking up to see him. “Listen to me,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to your own, “there was no game. I saw you in the market ten months ago when I was in the city.”
“Ten months ago? I’ve only known you for six….”
“I didn’t know how to approach you; I couldn’t just go up to you and say hello I’m the King of bloody England, fancy a pint?” You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips, his curving up at the edges. “So I dressed in my old clothes, snuck out of the palace, and started slowly talking to you. Then we went for a walk, and I couldn’t stay away. You’ve bewitched me, love. My love for you is more powerful than the magic of the Mage.”
“Honest?” you ask quietly with trepidation, “do you mean that Art?” He smiles at the nickname he gave you, leaning down to kiss your lips softly.
“Promise, love. It’s only ever and will only ever be you.” He runs his hand against your cheek, and you lean into his touch, letting yourself breathe for the first time all evening.
“I love you too, Arthur; I’m in love with you.” His eyes soften as he gazes down at you.
“We have to go back soon,” he whispers, kissing you softly, “but do you think we got time for?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and you smack his arm with a laugh.
“Is that all you think about?”
He grins and takes a step back, “turn around,” he whispers with a wink. You turn around slowly, gasping when your hands are pressed further into the tree trunk. “Quiet love, don’t want anyone to hear us do we?”
He moves quickly, unlacing the top of your corset and peeling the back open, letting it fall to the ground, your breasts sagging with the relief of being free. He palms your breasts, placing rough, scratchy kisses over your exposed shoulders. His hands come around to his waist, and he pushes up several layers of your skirts, reaching for your pulsing heat. He turns you around, and you reach your hands quickly down to palm him through his leather breeches.
Your hands falter on the fabric, and you look down with wide eyes, “I-I made these,” your voice shakes, “they were commissioned a few weeks ago.” You look up to meet his warm eyes as he nods.
“I wanted to support you, and you are the best seamstress in the city. Only the best for the King,” he murmurs, almost shy.
“Well then, my King,” his eyes darken, “I will need to show my appreciation.” You tug open the breeches, and he slips them down his thighs, lifting your skirts the rest of the way.
He fumbles with the layers, and you giggle at the annoyed look on his face. “I swear, when we marry, I demand you just walk around naked at all times. These skirts are ridiculous.”
You don’t have time to respond, the words caught in your throat, as he lifts you and slides inside with ease. “Fuck, always so wet for me, love,” his hips snap inside you, and his mouth tangles with yours, swallowing your moans.
“Arthur,” you moan, feeling him stretch you on his majestic royal cock. This is not the first time you’ve fucked, having given Art the apprentice your virginity in the woods several months ago, but this was the first time you’ve fucked Arthur, the king, and he didn’t disappoint.
“That’s it, love, let me hear you, but only me, don’t want any of them damn nobles to know I already made my choice. That I already fell in love months ago with a beautiful seamstress in the market.” He grunts, and your cunt flutters around his cock with every word. The love between you flowing over with each thrust of his hips.
“I- ah, I love you, Arthur,” you whimper against his neck, slick with sweat. The air is thick tonight, the incoming storm leaving the air thick and dripping.
He pulls back to look at you, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips, “I love you, you’re my Queen, always have been.”
You buck your hips against him, cumming with a silent cry, head thrown back in ecstasy. He thrusts three more times, and then you feel him cumming deep inside you, thick and warm it dribbles down the inside of your thighs. He’d never done that before, always pulling out at the last moment. You open your eyes and look at him; his pupils are wide, almost black as he stares at you.
“Now they can’t say anything,” he mumbles, and you furrow your brow. “You may be carrying a little Prince or Princess now; I have to marry you.”
You grin at what he’s done, his cock still buried inside you. “You’re naughty,” you giggle.
“I’m naughty?” He asks with a smirk, “your parents would be royally disappointed if they saw what you have on right now. Even more so at what I’m thinking about doing to you.”
“And what’s that?” You shift your hips, and his eyes widen as you tighten around his cock.
His eyes soften, and he cups your cheek gently, bringing your lips softly to his own. The rub of his beard is rough on your cheek as he moves to your ear, “I’m going to end this party early and show you. I already made my choice a long time ago. But, are you ready?” He pulls back, looking deep into your eyes, “Can you stand by my side and love Arthur the King, as much as you love Art, the apprentice?”
Your heart catches in your throat, blood roaring in your ears at his words; you lean into his hand warmly and on your cheek and close your eyes. Opening them slowly and looking into the sea of blue, “I love you, all sides of you, that doesn’t change because of a shiny crown and a title.”
He slowly pulls out, and you whimper as he lowers you back to the ground, pulling down your skirts and fixing your corset. You both work in silence to be presentable again, his eyes bright as he smiles at you, “Then, let’s go,” he murmurs, reaching for your hand, “I think it’s time to announce our engagement.” He snickers as you walk along beside him back towards the party.
“What are you laughing at?” you chuckle, watching his eyes filled with mirth.
“Your mother is going to faint,” he laughs beside you.
You groan and roll your eyes with a laugh, “Good, maybe she will be quiet for a few moments.”
He booms out a laugh and pulls you close, kissing the top of your head, “oh my love, our life will never be boring.”
It’s 2am and for some reason I just got notified of this even though it was posted awhile ago?! I screamed thinking of 2am hornknee thoughts. But I shall read this tomorrow and lose my damn mind 😈
