with Chrollo nothing is really a gift, he always wants something in return especially if it’s somthing you asked for, he likes buying you things that are delicate, jewelry or vintage books that are really for him, he’s a fan of lace so you’ll also receive a generous amount of lacy lingerie, and he expects you to wear them
 
Feitan turns bare necessities into luxuries, pillows and blankets are a very well received gift from him as it’s almost always freezing in the basement he keeps you in for a long time before your trusted to go upstairs without constant supervision. Random little bags of candy are a treat he brings back from missions if you’ve been good
Nobunaga is a total pervert, he gives you skimpy clothes and sex toys that he expects you to try with him, gifts that don’t serve him directly are always bribes to get stuff out of you, he doesn’t like giving you activities, in his mind the more bored you are the more likely you are to come to him for entertainment
Franklin he likes getting you activities that keep you busy, he doesn’t care what kind of clothes you wear he takes basically your whole wardrobe from your old closet and lets you pick any new stuff you need or want, out of all the members he’s on the more bearable side
Uvogin gives you food whenever he wants to treat you, fresh fruit, sugary stuff, good takeout from your favourite restaurant after you were extra submissive in bed the day prior, he thinks good performance should be rewarded, the only other food you have access to is canned or expired and hardly edible to anyone that isn’t 8’6 with the immune system of an elephant so sufficed to say you’ll take whatever he’s willing to give you
Shizuku gets you things you can spend time building but also use afterwords, or cute things you can decorate your space with, legos, diamond art kits, stuff that a cute harmless things like you should you be doing in her mind
Shalnark likes getting video games or anything that you guys can do together, he also enjoys when you wear stuff in styles he likes so he’ll get you a fair share of cute clothes or accessories he wants to see you in
Phinks he gets you stuff you need unless you ask for something extra, he doesn’t just buy you little things, he wants you to come to him and ask for whatever you want, he’ll almost never say no unless it’s dangerous or you’ve been bad
Most of Pakunodas gifts come a couple months into your abduction, she likes getting you relaxing treatments and pink collar services, your hair and nails done by people who come to the apartment she keeps you in, she’d love to treat you to these things earlier but she had to make sure you could be civilized first
Machi buys you copies of stuff you had at your old house, she takes photos of products you used to buy and scents you like, snoops through your old devices to see what kind of luxurious things you couldn’t afford before and they randomly appear in your shower
warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of blood, mentions of a gun
A sliver of moonlight shines through your curtains, the strip landing at the foot of your bed. Its not bright enough to keep you awake, but you’re having trouble falling asleep anyway. You feel worried, like something is wrong. You’ve been tossing and turning for the past hour, heart rate increased with a bout of anxiety. The source, you’re unsure of. It just feels like something is wrong.
And then you hear it, a faint knock at your door despite it being past midnight. You sit up and wait, listening. Two more soft knocks at your front door and you’re slipping out of bed. You’re not expecting visitors, but you know who it is deep down. If not, you’ll just try to go back to bed.
Checking the peep hole, your heart only beats faster as you recognize his silhouette illuminated only by your tiny porch light. You wet your lips and unlock your front door, pulling it open just as his fist is raised to deliver another set of knocks. “Franklin,” you breathe out.
He’s stepping into your apartment before you get the chance to invite him. You close and lock the door behind him, reaching for the light switch. “Don’t,” he murmurs, a rough and calloused hand gently grabbing your arm. His comment raises concern in you and you furrow your eyebrows.
“I want to see you,” you say, flicking the switch and immediately squinting against the intensity of light. A bruised and bloodied Franklin greets you when your eyes adjust and you can’t help but flinch at the split lip that is accompanied by a cut on his cheek. “Franklin…” you frown at him, taking the hand that’s on your arm and tugging him closer to you by the wrist.
“I said ‘don’t’” he grumbles, mild irritation in his voice. Everything hurts right now, and it’s not just the bright lights above him. His ribs are definitely bruised, his right hand aches, and his back is sore. All he wants to do is sleep.
Scoffing, your frown deepens. “This is my house and you came here covered in blood. I’ll do as I please,” you fire back, the lack of sleep seeping already affecting your attitude. Franklin tried to match your frown but it’s hard to tell with a swollen eye, to witch he lets out a quiet groan. “Come on.” You sigh, flicking off the light and pulling him down the hallway into the bathroom.
Depositing his gun on the counter, Franklin takes a seat on the toilet lid and hunches over, putting his head in his hands and closing his eyes. “What hurts?”
“Everything,” he mumbles, wincing at the feeling of his lip being stretched where the cut is. “My eye, my back, my mouth. Everything.”
Rather than replying or taking another look at his battered face, you keep digging under the sink until find peroxide and bandaids, as well as an instant ice pack. Crushing up the ice pack, you hand it to him once it starts to feel cold. “Here,” Franklin accepts it and presses it against his face, sighing at the coolness. “Sit up.” You command after drenching a few cotton balls in peroxide.
Obliging, Franklin straightens up and lets you start to clean up the dried blood on his face. He can’t help but watch you, feeling grateful for your care especially since he decided to show up unannounced and late. “Who did this?” You ask quietly, rather than asking what happened. You’d rather not know. Franklin opens his mouth, and you stop him before he can get a word out. “And don’t lie, Franklin.”
He can’t help but chuckle, though he quickly stops when he feels it in his ribs. The person is on the tip of his tongue, though he debates telling you for he knows how you’ll react. “Franklin,” you press, lifting the cotton ball from his face and softly pushing his jaw to look up at you.
When you meet his eyes, something inside of you softens despite the state he’s in. You hate what he chooses to do for work, you hate the danger he’s constantly in. You hate when he comes by looking like this, blood all over his face and clothes like it’s nothing. You cast a glance at the gun on the counter and pull your bottom lip between your teeth as your thumb gently strokes the soft skin of his cheek. Franklin follows your gaze and grabs ahold of your free hand. “Jerome.”
A look of confusion crosses your features. “Jerome? Your uncle?” Franklin only nods, and your confusion shifts to frustration and anger. “What the fuck, Franklin?” You drop your hand from his face and place it on your hip, slipping the other one out of his grip; the groove between your eyebrows deepening. Franklin waves off your anger with a wave of his hand and a shake of his head.
“It’s handled, baby. Don’t worry about it,” scoffing, you shake your head at him in proper disbelief. You want to argue with him, want to yell and scream. You want to fight; him, his uncle, everyone that had something to do with it. But above it all, you want to understand why these things happen to Franklin, why he chooses this life everyday over another one.
Instead you just shake your head, too tired to fight and yell, and go back to taking care of him. Maybe you apply a little too much pressure when you clean his cuts, and maybe his hisses more than before, but neither of you say anything. You just frown and tend to him, spending extra time on his split lip. These lips, you think, and almost sigh.
“You’re going to get wrinkles,” Franklin quips, making your eyes snap to his in a glare. He gives you a slight smirk and you roll your eyes.
“I’m done, smartass,” you grumble and toss the soiled supplies in the trash. Franklin stands up and groans, all of his muscles feeling tight. There’s still an ache in his ribs, but as long as he can breathe he considers himself lucky.
“Thank you,” he says, bracing himself against the counter. You turn and face him, shoulders dropping when you look up at him. Though you don’t agree with his lifestyle completely, you’d do this again in a heartbeat. As long as he comes back to you each day and night, you’ll gladly step in and play nurse, even if it’s delivered with an attitude.
Franklin leans down a bit and your hands come up to cup his jaw. His eyes flutter closed when you press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, not yet ready to meet his swollen bottom lip. “Let’s go to bed.”
The two of you shuffle back to your bedroom and you slip under the covers while Franklin gets undressed in the dark. Pulling the blanket up to your chin, you watch him with the small amount of light the moon allows. His muscles flex in his back when he pulls his shirt over his head, accompanied by a wince that pulls at your heart strings.
Feeling your stare, Franklin looks over his shoulder at you as he unbuttons his pants. “What?” You only shake your head, and you know if his lip didn’t hurt that he’d be giving you that infamous smirk. Rather than that, he pulls of his pants and then crawls into bed next to you. “C’mere.” He pulls you back towards his chest, a heavy arm slipping over your midsection.
It’s only a few minutes later, when his breathing becomes more even and you feel him relax into sleep that you realize your anxious feeling has been lifted and replaced with something more personal and intimate, more tangible. You’re sure it’s love.
Summary: While Franklin is out handling business, you decide to run a few errands, a seemingly simple act that quickly escalates into a dangerous encounter, forcing you to confront the harsh realities of his world and the precariousness of your connection to him.
Warnings: Violence, slight cussing, Emotional distress, mature themes, brief mention of drugs. One Shot!
Blue = Internal Monologue
A/N: how. This is my first time posting fanfiction, so please be kind!
The late afternoon sun bled across the sky, painting the familiar streets of South Central in hues of bruised orange and purple. It should have felt like home, but lately, everything felt…off. A nervous flutter tickled my stomach, a familiar ache that always settled in when Franklin was gone.
He’d disappeared again, vanished into the intricate, dangerous world he inhabited, leaving me with that hollow feeling and a task he'd specifically told me to avoid. Stay low, his voice had rumbled against my skin, a warning and a promise all at once. But sometimes, staying low felt impossible.
Sometimes, the need to feel close to him, to his world, was stronger than the fear. I gripped the envelope tighter, the paper whispering between my fingers. It wasn't just about the errand. It was about him. It was about the way he looked at me, like I was both his safe harbor and his greatest weakness. And maybe, just maybe, I was both.
I glanced over my shoulder. The setting sun glinted off the chrome bumper of a car parked across the street. Just shadows. Just shadows, I told myself, a flimsy reassurance against the prickling unease that crept up my spine.
Franklin's absence always amplified my anxiety. He was a force of nature, a whirlwind of charisma and barely-contained ruthlessness, and without him, I felt adrift, vulnerable. Like a kite without its string, tossed about in a sky threatening to turn stormy.
This simple errand, a favor for Mr. Johnson, felt like a reckless step closer to the darkness that clung to Franklin like a second skin.
The corner store was just ahead, a beacon of normalcy in the growing twilight. Mr. Johnson, a kind old man with eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled, would be waiting for the delivery.
It was a small thing, a way to help him out. Franklin wouldn't approve. He'd been clear – no favors, no entanglements. But Mr. Johnson had always been a quiet source of comfort, a reminder of the warmth that still existed in this harsh corner of the world.
I pushed open the door, the cheerful jingle of the bell a jarring contrast to the tension in my chest. Mr. Johnson’s face lit up when he saw me.
“Y/N! You’re a lifesaver, darlin’. I was starting to get worried.”
“No problem, Mr. Johnson,” I replied, forcing a smile. “Just a little something for you.”
I handed him the envelope, and his smile widened. “You’re a good girl, Y/N. Franklin’s lucky to have you.”
His words, meant as a compliment, sent a chill down my spine. Lucky. Was I lucky? Or was I just… a loose end?
I gathered my groceries – milk, bread, a few other things – and stepped back out into the gathering darkness. The streetlights flickered to life, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to mock me.
As I reached my car, a dark sedan slid to a stop beside me. Two men emerged, their faces hard and unreadable. My heart lurched against my ribs. This wasn’t good.
“Y/N,” one of them said, his voice flat and menacing. “We know who you are.”
My breath hitched. They knew. They knew about Franklin. And that meant I was in serious trouble.
“We know you’re Franklin’s girl,” the other one added, his eyes raking over me with a predatory gleam.
My blood ran cold.
“He’s not here,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. “He’s… out of town.”
“That’s what we heard,” the first one said, taking a step closer. “Makes things… easier.”
Easier. The word echoed in my mind, a chilling premonition. Easier to get to me. Easier to send a message to Franklin.
“We just want to talk,” the second one said, but his eyes screamed otherwise.
I knew what they wanted to talk about. Franklin. His business. The money.
I clutched my grocery bag tighter, a pathetic attempt to shield myself. “I don’t know anything,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
One of them grabbed my arm, his grip like a vise. My groceries tumbled to the ground, the carton of milk exploding in a white, spreading stain.
“Don’t play games,” he snarled. “We know you know.”
He shoved me against my car, the impact knocking the air from my lungs. My head slammed against the metal, a jolt of pain shooting through my skull.
“Where is it?” he demanded.
“I… I don’t know,” I stammered, tears stinging my eyes.
He hit me, the force of it sending my head reeling. My lip split, and I tasted blood. The world tilted and blurred.
The world swam before my eyes. The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth, a taste I knew all too well. He hit me again, a brutal slap that sent me sprawling onto the cracked pavement. My head smacked against the ground, and a wave of dizziness washed over me. Their voices, distorted and distant, seemed to echo from a nightmare.
“Where’s the money, bitch?”
“Tell us, and this can all be over.”
Money. It always came back to money. Franklin’s money. The lifeblood of his empire, the source of his power, and the constant threat hanging over us like a dark cloud. They thought I knew. They thought I was part of it. But I was just… me. Franklin’s girl. A title that suddenly felt less like a declaration of love and more like a brand, a target on my back.
I tried to push myself up, but my body screamed in protest. Pain throbbed in my head, my lip pulsed, my arm ached where he’d grabbed me. Terror, raw and primal, clawed at my throat. Not just for myself, but for Franklin. What would they do to him if they couldn't get what they wanted from me?
(Flashback – A month ago)
Franklin had been unusually quiet, his gaze distant as he stared out the window of his penthouse. “This life… it’s not for everyone, Y/N,” he’d said, his voice low and grave. “It’s dangerous. I don’t want you caught in the crossfire.”
“Then don’t,” I’d whispered, my voice trembling. “Get out. Get us out.”
He’d turned to me, his eyes a complex mix of tenderness and something darker, something I couldn't quite decipher. “I can’t,” he’d said simply. “It’s… complicated.”
(End Flashback)
“I don’t know anything,” I whispered, my voice hoarse and broken. “Please… I swear.”
One of them kicked me in the ribs, the force of it sending a jolt of pain through my body. I gasped, struggling for breath. The world tilted precariously, the streetlights blurring into a hazy mess of yellow and white.
“You think we’re stupid?” he sneered. “You think we don’t know who you are to him?”
They knew. They knew I was his weakness. They knew I was the key to getting to him. And in that moment, the terrible truth crashed down on me. Being Franklin’s girl wasn't a privilege. It was a liability.
They continued to badger me, their voices rising, more aggressive. I tried to answer, but my words were jumbled, incoherent. My mind raced with fear, with images of Franklin – his smile, his touch, the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the world.
Franklin… Where are you? Please, come back. Please, I need you. I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do. I love you. God, Franklin, I love you. And maybe that’s why I’m here. Maybe that’s why I’m willing to risk everything. Because I love you, even knowing the darkness that surrounds you. Even knowing that it could consume me too.
Suddenly, headlights sliced through the darkness, a sleek black car screeching to a halt. My heart leaped in my chest. A fragile spark of hope flickered within me. Two figures emerged. Franklin. And Leon.
Franklin’s face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. His eyes, when they locked on mine, burned with a rage so intense it stole my breath. Leon’s expression was grim, his hand resting on the handle of something concealed beneath his jacket.
“Get the fuck away from her,” Franklin’s voice was low, dangerous, a growl that vibrated through the quiet street.
The two men who had been attacking me turned, their bravado instantly crumbling. They recognized the tone, the unspoken threat that hung heavy in the air.
Franklin moved with a speed that was both terrifying and mesmerizing. He was on them in a flash, a whirlwind of controlled violence. Leon stayed back, his expression chillingly detached.
"You touch her again," Franklin hissed, his voice laced with venom, "and I will fucking kill you. I will kill your families. I will burn everything you have to the ground. Do you understand me?"
The two men nodded frantically, their eyes wide with terror. They knew. They knew who Franklin was. And they knew they had made a terrible, potentially fatal, mistake.
Franklin turned to me, his expression softening slightly, though the fury still simmered beneath the surface. He knelt beside me, his touch gentle as he brushed a stray strand of hair from my face. “Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, tears streaming down my face. “I’m okay,” I managed to say, my voice trembling. “You’re here.”
He helped me up, his arm wrapped protectively around my waist. He shot a look at Leon, who nodded and moved towards the two men, his expression suggesting their conversation was far from over. I didn’t need to hear what Leon said to them. The fear in their eyes told the whole story.
Franklin led me to his car, his grip firm but gentle. He didn’t say anything, but I could feel the tension radiating off him, the barely contained rage that threatened to erupt.
At their house, he helped me inside, the silence between us heavy with unspoken emotions. He guided me to the bathroom, his movements careful and deliberate. He sat me on the edge of the tub and began to clean my wounds, his touch surprisingly tender despite the storm raging inside him.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice thick with tears. “I messed up. I shouldn’t have gone there.”
He looked at me, his eyes searching mine. “Don’t,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Don’t blame yourself. They’re the ones who messed up. They messed with you.”
He finished cleaning my wounds and began to wrap my arm in a clean bandage. The silence stretched between us, punctuated only by the soft sounds of his movements and my shaky breaths.
“Franklin,” I said softly, “I was so scared.”
He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of tenderness and pain. He reached out and gently cupped my face in his hands. “I know,” he whispered, his thumbs brushing away the tears still clinging to my lashes. “I know. But I’m here now. I’m here.”
He pulled me close, holding me tight against his chest. I could feel the steady beat of his heart, a comforting rhythm in the chaos of my emotions. I closed my eyes, burying my face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent – a mix of expensive cologne and something uniquely him. I was safe now. At least, for the moment.
He carried me to the living room and gently laid me on the couch. He sat beside me, his hand stroking my hair. “Tell me what happened,” he said, his voice quiet.
I recounted the events of the evening, my voice trembling as I relived the fear and the violence. Franklin listened intently, his expression growing darker with each word. When I finished, he was silent for a long moment.
“They won’t touch you again,” he finally said, his voice low and dangerous. “I promise you that.”
He leaned down and kissed me, a soft, tender kiss that spoke volumes of his love and his protectiveness. It was a promise, a reassurance, a silent vow.
Later, as I lay in bed, wrapped in the warmth of his arms, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease. I knew that Franklin’s world was a dangerous place, and that being connected to him meant being exposed to that danger. But I also knew that I loved him, deeply and irrevocably. And maybe, just maybe, that love was worth the risk. Maybe it was worth facing the darkness together.
Four years ago, I mentally mapped out a whole ass multi-part series centered around Franklin and I actually started writing it while stuck in a Tire Discounters (lol) getting my tires replaced. It was honestly one of my happiest afternoons in recent memory.
Y'all.....the fucking lore that I gave this random goofy ass character in a short film..........
I recently came across it while going through boxes in my garage. I still like it. I'd like to revisit it. I juggle a demanding ass job, grad school classes, the raising of two small neurodivergent children, and will soon be adding a clinical practicum to the mix, so lord knows when I might actually get any of it done, but I would like to see it through someday. Maybe there's at least one weirdo out there who'd find it interesting. If not, at least it'll be fun for me.
The fact that people ran with this character and wrote fics about him is funny enough, but the fact that I really decided to pull a whole entire Franklin cinematic universe out of my ass during the pandemic........I don't even have words for my own absurdity.
I need to remember this the next time I think I'm not creative.
Summary: You didn’t think he noticed you, but turns out he did.
Rating: None
Words: 593
AN I want to do more with Franklin
Every Universe Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Wanting to start over with life, you took a chance on a never heard about before town called Little Falls.
This was where you found your weird obsession with bowling. Not that there was anything else in this town to do, but honestly it was so much fun that you didn’t mind. In fact, this whole town was obsessed with bowling. Even having a championship for bowling.
You had been watching since you came to this town two years ago. That was also where you saw him for the first time.
Franklin was something else. He was odd, but really good at bowling. And really good looking.
You hung in the background on bowling nights and tournaments. Watching him skillfully hurl those balls down the lane, watching him celebrate as he got another strike.
Watching him as he took another groupie under his arm and out the door.
You were fine just watching him and the game, not really thinking he would ever go for you.
It was maybe 9 when you were finally able to get to the bowling alley after work, thankfully Stan was there until 11. Since it was a weekday and most of the bowlers had to work the next day they were all at home. They had already been there though, you could smell the lingering of sweat from how hard they all went.
But you were surprisingly not alone.
Franklin was on lane 5, dressed in jeans and his Big Z Tires bowling shirt.
He cheered at another strike and threw both arms into the air. You smile watching him yet again. His energy really pumping you up to play.
“Hey Y/n.” Stan waved at you before pulling out shoes that were the right size. After coming here for so long, and due to the fact that there weren’t that many people in this small town, Stan knew everyone’s shoe size. “Seems like you aren’t going solo tonight.”
“I see that. Lucky me.” You said dreamily looking over to Franklin who was thrusting his hips into the air at another strike.
Stan rolling his eyes. He never understood why all the women were so obsessed with Franklin the nut job as he called him. “You’re on 3.”
You thank Stan and take your shoes, going to your lane to set up. You sit at the little consoul, entering in your name and slipping off your heels before pulling your spare socks out of your bowling bag.
You glance over at Franklin, but he seems too in his own zone to notice you. Not that you minded though, just happy to be in his presence.
Once you started bowling though it was as if everything melted away. Nothing else besides you and your ball. You occasionally got gutter balls, a few spares, but mostly strikes. The moment all the pins were knocked down a beaming smile plastered your face.
“Wow you’re pretty good.”
You jump at the sound of Franklin’s voice. When did he move from the lane to behind you? Man he was so much more attractive up close, his cologne wafting into your nose, intoxicating you.
Franklin smirked, noticing his presence had a major effect on you. He had noticed you a few weeks ago, the cute girl always watching from behind everyone. There was no way he wouldn’t see you alone eventually, but now that he had he found you absolutely stunning.
And now that he knows you’re into him too.
It was a strike, and he was totally going to ask you out.
Your attitude towards Franklin could be best described as that of a tide moving to and from a beach.
You went to him when you needed the social interaction, when the loneliness of your new life hit you too hard and you needed to talk to someone just to keep yourself from losing it. You spoke to him civilly, starting with topics as basic as what the weather was like until you were willing to have more in-depth conversations regarding genuine interests. Eventually you would let him touch you without much fuss, not shying away whenever he would place a hand on your shoulder or lower back. Those moments you allowed were brief, and would end once he sensed that you were becoming uncomfortable.
With enough time, the short moments of physical touch turned into longer ones. You allowed him to keep his hand on your thigh when you were sitting close to him and let him to hold your hand in his. And it would soon get to the point where you would have no issue with him pulling you onto his lap and holding you; sometimes you held him back.
When you were at your most comfortable with him, there was no protest from you when his hands would begin to wander.
His touch would be tame at first as he continued the process of easing you in. When you would sit in his lap, he would take the opportunity to caress you, stroking your hair or massaging your shoulders you would relax further. Then his hands would wander further, caressing your inner thighs before he slipped one of his hands beneath your shirt so he could grope your breasts while he began to mark up your neck with his mouth. At that point it would culminate in sex. Unlike times in the past where you would cry, during these times you would reciprocate. You held him, kissed him and didn't hide how much you were enjoying yourself when he fucked you, your moans and squeaks of pleasure echoing through the room while he had you writhing on his cock.
Afterwards, late into the night when you were both exhausted, you always fell asleep before he did, not complaining when he held you and instead being content in his arms, resting your cheek against his chest while you slept peacefully.
Franklin always felt that he was at his happiest in those moments, when you were able to let go of the resentment you held towards him and allow yourself to feel good with him. When you freely gave him your love and affection. Less like his captive and more like his lover. The way he wanted it.
But those moments of bliss would only last for so long.
After that point, like a tide pulling out, you would begin to pull away from him. Days later you would go back to shying away from his touch, sleeping at the very edge of the bed so as to create a physical distance between you two and only giving him one word answers at best whenever he spoke to you. You retreated from him in all aspects that you were able to within the space the two of you shared and only interacted with him when you had no other choice.
It would stay that way until you couldn't stand being alone anymore and you would go to him, at which the cycle would start over again.
Franklin was used to it, and while the situation wasn't something he liked, he could live with it for the time being. Until you were able to better accept your new life and those instances of you shutting him out ceased, he would take what you would give him only when you were comfortable enough to do so. Until that time came, he'd be fine.
Or so he thought.
This latest instance of your refusal of him was lasting longer than normal, and the longer you went rejecting him, the more frustrated he became.
Maybe it wouldn't have been as bad if it weren't for the fact that the last time the two of you had been intimate, you had been the one to initiate.
He hadn't been expecting it as he didn't think he had worked you up to that point yet. But one night you surprised him when you climbed on top of him in bed, silencing his questions by pressing your lips against his. Your intent became clear when you slipped your hand into his sleep pants and began to stroke his cock.
That night was the first time you went down on him. The sight of you sitting between his knees, your tongue sticking out to lap at the metal piercings at the tip of his cock before you opened your mouth wide and took in as much of him as you could while you stroked at what wouldn't fit – those were images he was certain would be forever engraved in his mind. At that point, he didn't care what had brought this on. When you pulled your mouth off of him, he grabbed you by your hair and brought you up to his level so he could kiss you. He'd been rougher with you than he intended, but you didn't complain. If anything, you seemed to like it, and you kissed him back with just as much fervor.
You were desperate for him that night, placing kisses on his jaw, neck and along his chest, guiding his hands to where you wanted him to touch you and staying on top of him, riding him while you pressed your hands against his chest, your nails digging in and leaving small crescent shaped marks in his skin while his cock repeatedly disappeared into your cunt, engulfing him with your wet warmth. You shuddered and cried out when you came, and the way your walls squeezed him so tightly brought him to his own climax. When Franklin grabbed you by your hips and pushed you down all the way as he came inside of you, you cried out once again and reached out to wrap your arms around him as his cum began to dribble out of you.
You were completely spent after, falling onto his chest while you tried to catch your breath. A soft but appreciative moan left your lips when he ran a hand over your back to sooth your sweaty skin. He'd wanted more from you and part of him felt as though he was ready to go again, but at the sight of your exhausted form laying on top of him, Franklin told himself not to. There was no sense in ruining things by asking too much of you.
You placed a few more kisses on his skin before you fell asleep, and he felt content with the progress you had made.
The day after had been a different story.
Like someone had flipped a switch within you, you walked around like a zombie that morning, your gaze looking distant at times. Whatever thoughts had plagued your mind, you seemed to be struggling with them. That afternoon you had taken a long shower, and when you had gotten out, it was clear that you'd spent a long time scrubbing at your skin to the point that it had become irritated, and he saw that the damage was worst in the places you had guided his hands to the night prior.
When he tried to ask what was wrong, you only shook your head before you walked away.
At the time, he had told himself to think nothing of it. You were pulling away again only because you were still struggling to adjust. You would come back to him once you were desperate enough, and he would get to feel your loving touch once again. It wouldn't be long until you reached that point again.
Only the days had turned to weeks, and you were still avoiding him.
As a result, his frustration was mounting.
Before all of this Franklin never would've thought the lack of physical contact would bother him so much; with everything he'd gone through in life, he should've been able to deal with such a thing easily. Maybe before he could've, but it was different now. After the taste he had gotten of you freely giving into him and going to him on your own, it angered him that you would insist on pulling away.
But he wasn't sure what he could do about it.
His gaze returned to where you were sitting at the table with a book in hand, reading quietly with your back turned to him. Originally you'd been sitting on the couch, but when he sat down to join you, you got up and moved. You weren't even trying to be subtle about avoiding him.
Did you want him to get angry?
Franklin chose not to say anything. Lashing out wouldn't help the situation.
Even if it would be incredibly easy to do something to you.
No doubt because of what had happened the last time you went to him and how those images of you were still fresh in his mind, intrusive thoughts came to the forefront as he looked at you. They plagued his mind as he looked you over, running wild and distracting him. Thoughts of what he could do if he decided that he really didn't give a shit about what your reaction would be to any of it.
If Franklin really wanted to fulfill those urges right at that moment, all he would need to do was bend you over, kick the chair away and remove the clothes that covered you. Then he could do what he wanted. Take care of the frustration you had caused while he got to experience your warm pussy walls again. With how weak you were compared to him, he wouldn't even need to use much of his strength, and while the lack of recent intimacy would make it uncomfortable when he initially shoved his cock into you, the resistance on your part would die out soon enough. You would probably start to enjoy it after a time, and with some encouragement and a few orgasms of your own, he could get you to hold and kiss him again.
But that was a horrible idea.
He'd be taking several steps back if he went about it that way. When the next morning would come, you would go back to ignoring him – or worse, you might go back to the way you'd been when Franklin had first brought you here, where you would alternate between crying and raging in between pleas for him to let you go.
Forcing you into it would just make you resent him more.
Make you fear him more.
So he kept his distance, keeping the fantasies of forcing you into positions he liked in his head while you continued to read in peace. Franklin tried to do the same, though after a few futile minutes, he found he wasn't able to focus well on the book he'd selected. He closed it while his free hand went up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
Ah, right. He remembered what he needed to mention to you.
“I'm going to be leaving tomorrow,” he said.
You didn't say anything, but you glanced back at him.
“I'll be in Meteor City,” he explained, “if all goes well, I'll only be gone for a week. But it could be longer than that.”
A beat of silence passed, with you still looking back at him, as though you were waiting for him to say something else. When he didn't, you finally responded.
“Okay.”
The reply you gave was barely audible and you immediately returned your attention to your book.
Franklin frowned.
That was all you had to say, apparently. Though with the way you'd been acting, he wasn't sure why he'd been expecting anything different.
Despite knowing how useless it was, he kept trying to engage with you.
“Will you be alright being on your own that long?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
You didn't even look away from the book that time.
“Is there anything you need before I leave?”
“No.”
He stared at the back of your head while you turned the page. But even with your dedication to the book you had in hand, he saw the way you tensed when you heard him lean forward in his seat, as if you were expecting something bad to come after.
If you were that nervous then why the hell were you acting like this?
Franklin ignored it again as he spoke once more, saying “I'll be passing through Olsoria to get to Meteor City. The place with that bakery with those macaroons you liked. If you wanted, I could get some for you on my way back.”
“No thank you,” was your curt response.
I don't want anything from you
That felt like what you were really trying to say with that, and Franklin felt himself becoming irritated. You clearly sensed that fact as he saw your figure become even more rigid where you sat.
The question came again: why were you insisting on acting like this if you were really that scared of him?
His mind started to go wild with fantasies of taking you again. Of storming up behind you and forcing you against the wall, lifting up one of your legs and fucking you open after tearing away your pants and underwear, taking any and all fight out of you with every thrust of his hips.
He wanted you. And at one point, you had wanted him as well.
Since you seemed desperate to pretend it never happened, he could easily remind you of that fact.
…..
If he went through with that, all of that work he'd done in warming you up to him would be for nothing, he reminded himself.
With that, Franklin's self-control won out yet again, and he stood up as he decided to give you some space for now. He didn't miss the way you flinched when you heard him stand, nor did he miss the way your shoulders sagged in relief as he left the room.
You were having trouble adjusting, he told himself. You would come around eventually. You needed to.
Franklin's business in Meteor City had taken less time than he initially anticipated, so it was only just over the week mark when he had returned. While the more practical side of him anticipated that your attitude would be the same as before, another part of Franklin was hopeful that things would be different once he came back. That maybe you wouldn't push him away anymore, and that perhaps the week away was what you needed in order to warm up to him again.
Why he had such a hope, he had no idea.
The practical part of him turned out to be correct, as you had the nerve to look disappointed when he walked through the door, only offering a small nod in response to his greeting to you before you quickly disappeared.
Nothing had changed since he had gone: once again he would try to talk with you, and once again you never engaged in any meaningful way. If anything, things had escalated. You now made a point to move to another room whenever he walked into the one you were occupying, and that first night back ended with you laying at the very edge of the bed again, almost teetering on falling off the mattress completely in your refusal to be close to him. The day that followed was the exact same as you treated him with apprehension and barely hidden disgust. You said maybe five words to him that day, and the distance between the two of you in the bed stayed.
He truly wondered what exactly your endgame was in all of this – you needed to know that he wouldn't put up with this forever. The way you looked nervous whenever he came close was clear indication that you anticipated he would snap at some point.
But instead of again questioning why you would continue when you feared him in that way, Franklin didn't comment on any of it. While he still felt some irritation at how you rejected him, he was now having an easier time dealing with it. Because, unbeknownst to you, he'd returned from his childhood home with a backup plan that he'd tucked away among his things.
A chance sighting while he'd been back in his roots of Meteor City had brought forth an idea, and within the hour Franklin found himself in possession of what could possibly be the answer to the problems he'd been experiencing with you: a pricey bottle of pills that had made the seller snicker when he had asked for them.
Franklin wasn't a stranger to illicit substances. Just about everyone in the troupe had tried something at one point or another, and he wasn't any exception, trying various things alongside some of the others when they all were younger. Maybe it was because he was getting older, but such things didn't interest him anymore. Do too much, be it D² or some other drug that was popular, and you ended up enslaved to it. A fair amount of the residents in Meteor City fell into that hole, rotting their bodies and minds with drugs all so they could have some relief from the harsh life they lived in the junkyard they called home.
These pills were different. He didn't need to add to your erratic behavior by getting you addicted. All he needed was for you to let go of your fear for just a little bit.
Initially after buying them he'd found himself struck by a case of buyer's remorse, uncertain if it had been a stroke of genius or a horrible waste of jenny. There was also a great risk involved: if you managed to find out what he intended, you would never warm up to him again.
But if the aphrodisiacs worked in the way they were supposed to, you would go back to wanting his touch. Maybe even begging for it.
And with every instance of you pulling away from him, you made his decision to use them on you that much easier.
All he had to do was wait for the right time.
It was close to a week after Franklin returned that you needed to go grocery shopping, and you didn't say much to him beyond the fact that you needed to get more food. You walked away without any response when Franklin said that he would be going with you.
Franklin didn't comment on it.
Not much was said between the two of you after you left, though you managed to get out a half-hearted “thanks” when he complimented you on the skirt you were wearing. The only bit of conversation you initiated after that was to quietly mentioned at that he didn't need to come with you. Franklin's reply was that he wanted to spend time with you. You nodded, though based on your expression it was clear you would have preferred to have been alone.
Franklin again said nothing about it.
When the two of you made your way around the store, you were guarded around him. Not as bad as you had been in the past, admittedly, but every now and then you would look back at him nervously. Did you think he would try to do something? What exactly did you think he would do in a place as public as this one?
Only once did he step closer to you, intending to place his hand on your lower back when you were reaching up for something and it looked as though you were becoming unsteady. You saw it coming and darted away from him, throwing the item from the shelf into the basket as you mumbled some excuse about why you needed to be away from his proximity right at that moment.
That irritation in him wanted to bubble up to the surface, but Franklin once more remained silent.
By the time you had made it to the checkout lane, he had made his decision:
Franklin would use the pills on you tonight.
That was how he got to where he was now: standing close by with a single pill in hand as you began to separate the meal you had prepared into two different portions, all the while he waited for a moment when you wouldn't notice him slip it into the food. A bit difficult to do when you were currently standing over it, looking over to him every once in a while. It didn't seem likely that you suspected he planned to do anything – you were probably just unhappy that this was a situation where you couldn't get out of being in his presence.
He waited until after you had turned away before he made his move, telling you “I'll take the plates out if you want to set out the drinks.”
“Why?” you asked.
“You've done all the work; I'd like to help out a little,” he answered.
“… Fine.”
There was a slight frown on your face, but you didn't stop him as you grabbed two drinking glasses from one of the cabinets. With your approval, he collected the plates and set them on the table in the other room. And in the time it took for you to reach your seat, he had mixed the pill in with your food.
You didn't say anything when you sat down. Nor when you began to eat. With the rest of the ingredients you'd used, you didn't notice the pill at all. Once he was certain that you had taken it, Franklin told himself to wait as he kept an eye on you. The seller's words came back to mind as he routinely glanced over at you through the silent meal. The aphrodisiacs were fast acting, they had said. Guaranteed to get whoever had taken it desperate and needy enough to throw away whatever reservations they might have.
The moment of truth didn't take long to come.
In the middle of the meal, he noticed when you paused between bites as you suddenly tensed up. You stayed frozen like that for a moment, and while your face was blank, he saw a growing panic in your eyes. It only lasted for a moment before you ultimately continued eating your meal as though everything was normal.
Only it clearly wasn't. Your growing uneasiness was plain to see as your movements became more stiff and robotic, and he saw the way you glanced up at him as you though you hoped he hadn't noticed your change in demeanor.
Franklin chose then to speak as he said “it tastes good.”
The compliment caught you off-guard, and you blinked at him for a few moments before you replied with a small “thanks.”
Your voice was hushed when you answered him, and you quickly averted your gaze as you took a long sip from your glass of water. You were doing your best to act as though everything was normal as you continued with the meal, forcing yourself to take bite after bite in between nervous looks over towards Franklin when you thought he wasn't paying attention. An uncomfortable huff of breath left your lips as you shifted in your seat, causing a twitch ran up your spine. The softest noise escaped you, one that was stifled when you bit down on your bottom lip to silence it.
Even if Franklin hadn't been watching your every move, he would've noticed that.
“Are you alright?” he asked you.
There was a guilty look on your face the second he asked that, horror overtaking your features before you hurriedly shook your head in response.
“I'm fine,” you replied.
“Are you sure?” he pressed.
“I…. I think I might be a bit lightheaded, but it's not a big deal,” you said.
There was a breathlessness in your tone, and that caused a heat to stir within Franklin as well.
“Are you sure that's all it is?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
You tried to continue as though nothing was wrong. No doubt you were confused by your body's sudden reaction and horrified at the thought of Franklin finding out what was happening. No doubt that horror drove you to try and prove to him that you were okay with every bite you took. But eventually, you gave up.
You set your fork down as you said “I don't think I can finish this. I'm gonna lie down for a bit.”
You didn't wait for him to respond before you got up and left, heading back to the bedroom.
He waited a few moments before he began to gather everything up, taking the plates and bagging up whatever was left of the meal for leftovers. But once that was finished, he found that he couldn't be bothered to do a thorough job with the rest of the cleanup. Franklin threw the dishes and cutlery into the sink and rinsed them for a moment before shutting the water off as he decided that was good enough. He was more interested in seeing how you were doing, and how much of a mess you were by now.
If you were desperate enough to beg him to fuck you.
He again thought of that last time together, of how bold you had been and how you had grabbed at him. How you had directed him to touch you as you placed kisses all over.
He wanted that again.
He wanted you.
And tonight you weren't going to deny him.
You were curled up into a ball on the bed when he entered the room, facing away from the doorway with your legs pulled in and your arms wrapped around yourself. When he looked closer, he saw that you were trembling. The shaky breaths that escaped your throat were easily audible within the space of the bedroom, and Franklin watched you rub your thighs together in subtle movements as though you were trying to find some relief that way.
Desperation was beginning to take hold, but you were clearly trying to keep it under control.
He spoke your name softly, and you stopped, freezing in place on the bed. Had you not realized he was in there with you?
Franklin said your name again as he asked “are you sure you're alright?”
“…. Y-yeah,” you said, keeping yourself turned away from him as you added “just n-need to rest.”
“Hm.”
The sound of his footsteps coming closer to the bed had you curling in on yourself further, and you bit your lip again in an attempt to keep in any noises. Sitting down behind you, he watched as you tried to bury your face in the sheets to keep him from seeing what you looked like in that moment.
“It's really nothing,” you managed to get out.
You really thought he would believe that this was just some lightheadedness?
“It doesn't seem like nothing,” he said to you, reaching towards you.
“It's noth-”
He grabbed you by the shoulder and flipped you onto your back.
Your eyes were wide in surprise, your mouth gaping open as you stared up at him. When it looked as though you were about to say something in response to him grabbing you, his hand traveled up to cup your cheek. Once again you were cut off as you whined at the skin on skin contact, your legs falling open as you leaned into his touch. Your whole body was running hot as Franklin glided his free hand on top of your clothes, and more gasps left your lips in the wake of his touch.
Just hearing you make those noises was having an effect on him, and the sight of you so vulnerable, so needy, had his dick hardening.
Having reached the hem of your skirt, he pulled it up to reveal the state of your underwear.
There was a wet patch on the fabric of your panties. And it was only getting bigger.
You squealed when he pressed his thumb against the spot, rubbing the folds of your pussy through the fabric. That action had you moaning and you began to buck your hips to the sensation.
Despite how this current sight of you was starting to affect him, Franklin kept his voice level as he spoke to you.
“You should've told me that you were lonely,” he said softly, thumb still pressing against your burning pussy.
Hearing his voice had snapped you out of your state somewhat, as you now pulled away from the hand he had kept on your cheek, though the way you bucked your hips against his hand didn't stop even when worry took over your features.
“I-I… I'm not…..”
Whatever sentence you were trying to form died when he rubbed your clit, a loud moan coming from you. You slapped your hand over your mouth, looking away from him.
“Leave it to me, I'll take care of you,” Franklin muttered.
For a brief moment, you took back the control of your mind that the aphrodisiac had taken from you, a look of horror returning to your face.
“No…. I can't…..”
You actually tried to move away.
Franklin snapped. That rejection was the last one that he could take and he ripped away your panties, shoving a finger into you before you could say anything else.
The sensation of that single thick digit being forced into your pussy had you cumming instantly.
You cried out, arching your back while your pussy clenched around his finger, milking the digit as your release came leaking out after. Your gaze was unfocused and you struggled to control your breathing while your legs continued to tremble. The hand of yours that had tried to push his away was now gripping him tightly.
Franklin was only vaguely aware of your reactions as he was far more concerned about the way you clenched around his finger. How your muscles felt as they pressed down on him. How your release dripped out onto the sheets beneath you. How with every mindless movement of your hips, you encouraged him to fill up that emptiness inside of you.
All of those sensations would feel better once it was his cock inside of you, and with the way his erection that was starting to get painful for him as it pressed against it's confines, he was more than eager to get to that part. Though a voice at the back of his mind told him to open you up a bit more – with how much time had passed since you had last let him fuck you, the stretch would be more than a little uncomfortable without a bit of prep.
He moved within you to press against your walls, and then he heard the way you moaned and felt how you moved your hips to full on grind against him. Just like that, he removed his finger as he chose not to bother with preparing you any further.
You could deal with it.
Your whine of disappointment was cut short as Franklin grabbed you by your hips to pull you so you were facing him, resulting in your skirt pulled up further around your waist while your legs hung off the edge of the bed.
The sound of a zipper opening and his pants falling to the floor brought your attention back to him, and when you looked back to find his cock rubbing against your slick folds, you bit your lip in anticipation. Now, instead of fighting him, you tried to move your hips so he could slip into you, an effort that was thwarted when he grabbed you by your waist and held you there. You looked up at him with dilated pupils and tears forming in your eyes, your hands going down to grasp his in an effort to encourage him to enter you.
The expression you wore was one of pure desperation.
Franklin shoved himself inside of you. Despite how wet you were from your previous orgasm, he only managed to go in about halfway, your walls having tightened up since the last time he had fucked you, and from the way your face scrunched up, he saw that you were in pain, tears pricking at the edges of your eyes.
Seeing the way you had cried in the past had killed his mood on more than one occasion, but all the sight did this time was spur him forward.
With a slow drag of his hips, Franklin pulled out until only the tip remained in you before he pushed in again, his large hands tight around your comparatively tiny waist as he bullied his way in further, intent on burying into you to the hilt. All resistance on your part was gone; unable to move your hips as he kept you in place, your hands reached out for Franklin, desperately grabbing at the sleeves of his shirt in an effort to pull him in closer. You wanted the closeness. You wanted to hold him and for him to hold you back.
Using those sleeves that you had gotten a death-grip on, you pulled yourself into a sitting position as you attempted to wrap your arms around his neck.
With one hand he shoved you back down onto the bed.
And after he readjusted his grip on your hips, Franklin picked up his pace as he began to fuck you faster.
Your cries of pain quickly filled the room, accompanied by a lewd squelching sound as Franklin thrust into you again and again. Every time the metal piercings that lined his cock scraped along your walls, it caused you to jolt, your voice going up a few octaves as you still tried to move your hips out of the iron hold of his hands. But even though you were full-on crying now, you weren't doing anything to stop him. The affects of the drug in action: keeping your mind focused on the burning feeling inside of you that needed to be satiated and disregarding everything else. Whatever worries you had about the whole situation would come later; right now, all you could do was take the harsh treatment he was giving you.
Franklin stared down at you, watching your pained expression slowly fade as you got used to the feeling of his length being inside of you again, though every now and then you would still tense up, a soft, short whimper interrupting your frequent moans.
It wouldn't hurt so much if you'd given in on your own earlier
With that thought in mind, Franklin kept up the harsh pace, his cock battering open your pussy until he was able to sheath himself in all the way. Your tears that fell as a result of that were numerous, but never once did you tell him to stop.
Eventually Franklin flipped you over onto your front, forcing you onto your hands and knees to fuck you from behind. He changed up where he held you, now keeping one hand securely in your hair while the other slapped your ass. Once again your shrieks and squeals echoed in the room, and Franklin alternated which hand was holding you, delighting in seeing the way your skin became marked up from the force of his hits.
The way he hit you combined with his dick hitting a particular spot inside of you had you cumming again, and the feeling of your heat pressing down around his cock was what pushed him over the edge. With one hand still in your hair, Franklin pressed you down into the mattress while he kept your hips raised, leaving you to squirm as you felt his cum spilling out and dripping down your thighs.
A satisfied moan left his lips as Franklin loosened his grip on you, keeping his cock inside of you as he began to stroke your hair softly as he looked you over. Your skin was still hot to the touch, a layer of sweat covering you as you trembled beneath him. A quick glance towards the quickly bruising skin of your ass and there was no doubt that the next day would be uncomfortable for you whenever you would need to sit down. With how hard he'd hit you, maybe it would last longer than that.
Good.
Franklin leaned over you, the brief reprieve all he needed before he felt he could go again as he moved you over onto your side. He began fucking you from a new angle, and with how sensitive your previous orgasms had left you, your throat was quickly turning raw from how often he had you moaning.
When you pushed yourself up by your arms and once again reached for him, he chose to indulge you. With a shaky hand, you reached out to cup his cheek and pull him forward, and the action ended with you placing a soft kiss on his lips.
He kissed you back, at first matching your softness, then he pulled away to bury his face in your neck, covering it in lovebites and resuming the harshness of his thrusting.
He took you several times that night, and it was long overdue for both of you. Franklin painted your hot little walls white several times that night as he claimed you, and any and all fight had completely vanished from your system. Even in your exhausted state, you still tried to meet his thrusts, the drug having you far gone enough that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.
By the end of it, you were fully naked and slumped over on the bed, your body still twitching as you tried to recover while Franklin's breathing was still calming down as he sat next to you. He reached out to you again, once more to pet your head after he brushed the hair out of your face. The noise you made upon feeling his touch sounded as though you were satisfied.
Not long after, the toll of the long night finally forced you into sleep.
Despite being early in the morning, it was still dark out when you got up from the bed, Franklin waking up shortly before you left the room due to the loud way in which you had stumbled about on your way out the door. A light on the other side of the hallway shone into the bedroom afterwards.
When he heard no further activity, Franklin got up to follow after you.
He found you standing at the sink, your hands gripping the edge of the surface to hold yourself up while you stared at the mirror before you. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you were frowning as you looked at the figure that stared back at you, taking in the sight of the bruises that had been left upon your skin. Your gaze went to him when you realized he was standing in the doorway, and it then seemed as though you were filled with a vague sense of distress just at the sight of him.
Franklin pretended not to notice that as he asked “everything alright?”
“….. I don't know,” you answered.
You looked back to the mirror as your hand left its place on the sink to trail over a mark that had been left on your collarbone, though you almost immediately placed your hand back on the sink when you unintentionally began to lean forward. Franklin was quick to steady you as he held you by your shoulders.
“You should come back to bed and lay down,” he told you, “I don't want you falling over.”
You didn't reply, instead looking down at the bruises that were scattered across your body.
“What happened earlier?” you asked suddenly.
Franklin blinked.
“What do you mean? We had sex.”
“Yeah, but….”
You trailed off as you looked away from him, your hands gripping the sides of the sink hard while your mind going over the events from only a few hours earlier. Then you opened your mouth as if you were going to speak, and after struggling to come up with the words, you spoke again.
“Did you…?”
Once more you left your sentence unfinished, and this time it seemed as though you were too scared to complete it.
“Did I what?” Franklin asked, making a point to raise his brow in question as though he had no idea what you were getting at.
“…. Did…. Did you drug me?”
Your question hung in the air while the seconds passed by in silence. Franklin didn't reply and you didn't look at him.
Then Franklin's hands fell from your shoulders. You looked back to him then, only to find an irritated expression on his face.
“Really?”
That one word that was dripping with disgust was all he said to you before he turned away, heading back towards the bedroom and making it a few steps into the hallway, intent on leaving you where you were.
Franklin was stopped when you grabbed him by the arm.
“I'm sorry!”
You were crying – sobbing, as you held onto him, both of your arms wrapped around his.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” you repeated, “I don't know why I said that. I'm sorry, please-!”
Apologies continued to spill from your mouth as your knees sank down onto the floor, still keeping your grip on his arm as your hands slid down to hold onto his wrist. He looked down at you, watching the way your tears flowed while you sat on the cold floor of the hallway, your weak hold on him likely the only reason as to why you were staying upright.
If Franklin wanted to be cruel, he would've wrenched his wrist away from you and gone back to bed, leaving you a sobbing mess in the hallway. Maybe he would give you the same treatment you'd been giving him for the past few weeks. How devastating would it be if you could only get one word answers from him? To have your only source of company not want anything to do with you? How well would you handle any of that now that you'd been forced into this state?
As interesting as it might be to find that out, he didn't want that right now.
While he did pull out of your grip, he did so gently and scooped you into his arms after, holding you while you cried. You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, as though you were scared he would vanish right then and there.
“It's alright. Don't cry,” he began, petting your hair again as he added “you haven't gotten a lot of sleep. That's probably making you say things that you don't mean.”
You nodded.
“The only reason you're feeling strange is because you've been feeling alone and stir crazy for a while now, right?” he asked.
You nodded again, eagerly accepting the explanation Franklin had provided for you without an ounce of hesitation. He wondered if you were actually listening to him or if you were just so desperate for him to not reject you that the words were going right over your head.
Regardless of what it was, at least it had you holding him again.
Franklin placed a kiss on your forehead, and that seemed to calm you down some, though your grip around his neck didn't loosen much.
“It's okay. So let's just forget about this and get some sleep,” he mumbled against your skin.
You nodded in agreement for a third time.
You clung to him even after he had placed you back in the bed, one of your hands on his chest while you cuddled up against his side. Franklin wrapped an arm around you to hold you close, and that further helped in calming your mood as your tears finally stopped, though you continued to sniffle for a few moments longer. He continued to give you reassuring touches as he caressed your skin, something you appreciated as you nuzzled your face against his chest.
Not long after the sad noises coming from you stopped as you finally fell back asleep. Your arms were still around him, and his body felt warmer in the areas where he felt your touch.
Franklin felt content as he continued to caress your skin.
This was the way it was supposed to be, he thought to himself.
You by his side, readily accepting his touch and offering your own affection in return. That was how things should be between the two of you.
And things would be like that from this point onward; Franklin would make sure of it. No more of the constant back and forth of ignoring his presence and then being all over him. No more of your barely hidden contempt as you went out of your way to avoid him. You were his, and just as much as you were meant to love him back, you were meant to give yourself to him so that the both of you could feel pleasure.
Franklin hoped you would remember that from now on.
