Idon'knowifyou'retakinfrequestsstillbut--
*inhale*
King John prancing about like a prideful peacock because he knocked you up; shows you off like a pretty new ring to everyone like, "Look everyone! Look what I made!"
But he's just a big ole pushover when it's just the two of you and he may or may not like being bossed around in bed by you because he just wants to hear you call him a good boy 🥺
Ahhhhh!! I have been thinking about this for weeks. 👀👀👀
Have My Way
King John x pregnant!afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •
Summary: You have the King wrapped around your little finger. (And on his knees.)
Warnings: Swearing, fluff, reader is pregnant, pet names, the King being a dramatic ass as usual (and a simp!), talk of certain views being 'old fashioned' - these are forward, modern thinking medieval people pals!, oral sex (both recieivng), masturbation , fingering, p in v sex, cream pie, not beta read, please let me know if I've missed a warning.
Word Count: 2409
The King has not left your side all night; in fact his hand has not physically left your side. Seemingly glued to your hip as he walked around the hall with you, talking and greeting the courtiers.
Part of you wanted to chastise him, just a little bit. You were barely showing, but still it was all he could talk about. However the pure happiness on his face made your heart ache, the way he puffed out his chest ever so slightly whenever anyone congratulated both of you.
That had also been something you had had to pull him to the side about, when Lord Averst had congratulated the King first on the upcoming baby you were sure you were going to have to stop a fight. The absolute storm cloud that came over the King’s face would have been comical if it had been you teasing him.
You’d smoothed it over and dragged him away.
“How dare he ignore you.” John hissed.
“He wasn’t ignoring me, he was just congratulating us.”
“He spoke to me first. Not you.”
You’d squeezed his hand. “You’re the King, of course he’s going to congratulate you first.”
He’s frowned. “I’m going to put a new decree out, everyone must congratulate you first. You’re the one carrying our child.”
“John,” You soothed. You know he knew he was being silly. You kiss his cheek. “They are just trying to be polite… I’m sure other Kings would take offence if they weren’t spoken to first.”
“Well, I’m not other Kings. I’m their King.” He pressed his forehead against you. “They should all know how much I love you.”
The other issue had arisen when the Earl of Ettering had touched your stomach and said, “Let us pray to god for a boy.”
The King tensed a millisecond before he spoke, anger seething. “Let us pray for a healthy child.”
The Earl had nodded, not quite understanding the King’s sudden ire.
You had smiled and pulled him again to the side. “Your Highness-”
“He touched you.”
“You Highness-”
“It is bad luck to pray or wish for a boy, everyone knows that.”
“Your Highness-”
“Practically throwing curses at you and-”
“My love.” You say sternly, your voice hushed and lips close to his ear.
He shivers and stops, looking at you with soft, apologetic eyes.
“Calm yourself.” You stroke his cheek, running your fingers over his beard. “Praying for a boy isn’t bad luck in every part of the country.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but you don’t give him a chance.
“And the Earl isn’t throwing curses at me.” You smile.
Some of the tension leaves his shoulders. “I know, my love.” He takes your hands in his and kisses your fingers. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, you’re allowed to be…”
“Protective?”
You grin. “I was going to say panicked.”
He scowls playfully and you giggle.
“Fine,” He says after a moment, his hand on your waist and holding you close. “He still touched you though, without asking your permission.”
“Here.” You take hold of his hand and place it on your stomach, letting the warmth of his palm radiate outwards. “Now your touch is there instead.” While you didn’t particularly like people touching you without your say so, the Earl was elderly and still held times past values. Plus, the few times you had spoken with him before he had been nothing but kind, grandfatherly in his manner. And you were sure he met no ill will or offence.
The King's expression softens. Gently he leans his forehead to yours, relaxing into your embrace as you place your arm around him, lightly stroking the nape of his neck with your fingers.
The rest of the night goes smoothly. Though the King does start to check in often, his voice light and gentle. But you can tell he is worried that the long evening is making you tired.
You are thankful when you both head back to your rooms, the weight of any social gathering is always a little difficult for you to bear.
He kisses your cheek softly the second you are alone, guiding you towards the warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth. Your hands in his, he runs his thumbs over your skin as he captures your lips, moaning happily when you reciprocate.
“Every day, I am surprised by your affection.” He mutters, his voice weak.
“Your Highness?” You smile, moving back a fraction to look at him.
“That you care for me.” He explains.
“I love you.” You stress softly and he beams, never getting tired of hearing you say it.
“That you love me, that I love you and my love is returned.”
“You are silly.” You stroke his cheek, playing lightly with the edge of his curls. He presses his face into your palm.
“How dare you call your King silly.” He grins, his eyes closed.
“I will only ever be honest with you.” You tease.
He cracks open an eye to watch you, revelling in your gentle ridicule. “I am still honoured by your love.”
“You’re very lovable.”
He snorts. “I am sure there are many, many people who would disagree with you.”
You set your shoulders, “Well, let them try.”
He giggles and kisses you gently, moaning when you move your lips down and suck at his pulse point. He tenses, his fingers digging into your arms.
“My love…” He groans, quickly becoming lost in the feel of your tongue against his skin. “We don’t have to…”
“Shh,” you move back the smallest fraction, just enough space to let the sound out before you go back to sucking a love bite into his neck.
You snake your hand down, palming his heavy erection and smiling at the little whimper he gifts you with.
“Be a good boy,” you pause and bite back your grin when he groans loudly, “and lay down by the fire so I can have my way with you.”
You have never seen him move so quickly, practically jumping to the floor and the soft fur rug. You giggle and he smiles, sitting up and holding your hand. You think, at first, that he is going to help you into his lap. But instead he presses his left hand to the small of your back, urging your core closer to his face.
“Your Highness?” You smile.
“Hmm, let me taste you, my love, please?” He looks up at you with large, lust blown eyes, his expression so soft and sweet it would be impossible to deny him.
You don’t answer straight away, but he must see a small micro expression in your face that you don’t realise you gave. He quickly hikes up your dress skirts and dives underneath them.
You laugh at his haste and then gasp as he buries his face into your cunt, moving all obsitcals out of his way so that he can stroke your clit with his warm, wet tounge.
He groans softly at your taste, moving closer and gently urging your legs a little further apart. Softly, he sucks your clit into his mouth as he runs his right hand up your inner thigh, just teasing at your enterance before he gently pushes two fingers inside.
You gasp, moaning and rocking lightly against him. Music to his ears.
His fingers are thick, calloused by sword practice in the most perfect ways. By now he’s become attuned with your body, knowing exactly how to stroke slowly, how to twist and curl to get you used to the stretch. How to suck on your bundle of nerves to get you writhing and bucking into his mouth.
Your thighs tense. Pleasure coiling tightly in your lower belly, the spark of excitement quickly burning into a scorching flame. You bite your lip. His steady and sure touches are good, very good. But tonight you want something different.
You gather up your skirts just enough so that you can push him back away from your core. He looks up at you in question, the bottom half of his face shining. “My love?”
“Lay back.” Your voice is firm, leaving little room for argument.
Not that he wants to. He obeys you without a second thought, laying onto his back on the fur. The firelight dances across his face, casting beautiful patterns.
“Take out your cock.” You nod your head upwards as you speak.
Quickly his hands fly to his trousers, unlacing them in a rush so that his hard cock springs free. He swallows, biting his lip, but doesn’t touch himself without your say so.
“Make yourself ready for me.”
He groans, his eyes beseeching. He spits into his palm before he takes himself in hand, groaning as he pumps himself up and down. It only takes him a moment to lose himself in the sensation. His eyes fluttering closed, his hips bucking shallowly as he rocks up.
His other hand loosens his trousers even more so he can palm his balls, kneading them eagerly as you watch.
He moans your name breathily, his back arching off the floor ever so slightly.
“You’re going so well.” You mutter and his eyes snap open, gazing at you imploringly.
“Please, my love.” He gasps as he focuses on his cockhead, he darts out his tounge to wet his lips.
“Please, what?”
“Please come and sit on me, pull my hair, call me a, a…”
“A?” You raise an eyebrow at him expectantly.
“Good boy.” He breathes.
You smile, getting to your knees in front of him. “You are a good boy, aren’t you?”
He groans and nods desperately.
Slowly, you stroke your hands up his legs, spreading his thighs wide. He gasps, and moves with you instinctively letting them fall apart.
You dip your head down, roaming your fingers along his hips and cock before you take him in your mouth. The King moves his hands away instantly, letting you take over.
He throws his head back as you suck his head past your lips, moaning loudly and swearing under his breath. His heart hammers in his chest, makes the thick vein in his neck stand out.
You bob your head shallowly, taking him deeper and deeper with each swallow.
“My love, my sweet, I…” He squirms a little, forcing his hips to stay on the floor and not buck up with the tanterlising heat of your mouth. “Please, please, let me… come here and take your pleasure from me?”
You pull back slowly, opening your eyes to look into his. You stroke him slowly, smearing your saliva along his thick length. “What do you want?”
He bites his lip. “For you to sit on me and come on my cock.”
You smile and nod, “As my King wishes.”
A shiver of excitement runs through his body, both in anticipation of being inside you and for whenever you say ‘my King’.
He takes hold of your hips, helping you to sit in his lap and out of your clothing.
When you raise yourself up and take his length in your hand he hisses, biting his lip and watching intently as you line yourself up to take him.
He spreads his hand across your stomach, the slight bump, and positions his thumb on your clit.
You sigh softly as you ease down onto him, trying to relax as he splits you open. His head breaches after a moment of resistance, your slick helping to ease him inside.
He gulps loudly, groaning under the strain of holding himself back. Pleasure has already twisted so tightly at the base of his spine, making him lightheaded and drunk for the smallest touch. Eagerly he rubs your clit, soft slow cirles at first that he knows will make your legs shake.
You moan and drop down faster, desperate to take all of him to ease your ache.
“My love,” he pants, watching your face with such dedication. “Ah, you are doing so well, taking all of me. Doing so well for your King.” He groans as he bottoms out, his cock finally sheathed inside.
You rock back and forth slowly, adjusting to his size before you rise up a fraction and begin to truely move. You pant, leaning back so you can change the angle, and then gasping as he thrusts up, hitting that perfect spot inside head on.
“Fuck.” He bites his lip, pushing down his own rush of pleasure as he focuses all his energy on repeating the action, of making you fall apart. “That’s it,” he breathes, “that’s it… fuck, doing so well, my love, taking me so, so well.”
You swallow, putting your left hand behind you for balance and squeezing his thigh. The sound of your lovemaking echoes around the room, your slick coating his cock as the slap of skin against skin rings out.
Part of you wonders if the guards can hear, outside your rooms at their posts. If you cries reach them, if they know how good the Kind fucks you. The thought makes you want to scream louder.
He moves faster, his hips starting to lose their rhythm as he nears his peak. “Fuck, my sweet. Too good, too perfect, you were made to take his cock, made to come for me,” he growls. “This is where you’re meant to be, always, here, full of me,” he gasps as you tense around him. He presses firmer against your clit. So desperate for you to milk his cock. “I love you,” his muscles tense.
You gasp, his words throwing you over the edge. You come against him hard, your release coating his cock as you thrust, forcing him as deep as he can go. Pleasure swallows you whole, makes you cry out his name in your bliss.
He comes a second later, practically snarling as he pumps load after load inside you. Your walls squeezing him for every last drop.
“Fuck,” he pants, using the last of his energy to wrap you in his arms and then pull you down against his chest. He kisses your forehead.
It’s so warm in his embrace, safe. The rapid beating of his heart slowing to a gentle beat.
“I need to apologoise, Your HIghness.” You say as seriously as you can.
You feel his arms tighten around you, confusion in his voice. “What?”
“I did not pull your hair.”
He snorts, and then breaks into a chuckle. “Next time, my love, next time.”
Thank you for reading!
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