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synopsis: when freshly divorced frank takes his kids to soccer for the first time, he immediately makes friends with one of the mothers, you. when you come and pick your daughter up from a playdate later, it stretches into something much greater than both of you could've imagined.
pairing: divorced!frank langdon x single mother!reader
cw: 18+ mdni, smut, angst. discussions of divorce, mentions of frank's drug addiction and guilt, discussions of abandonment, infidelity and single parenthood. unprotected p in v, fingers in mouth.
wordcount: 4.5k
taglist: @pittsick @inside--her--fantasy @voidsuites @lvve-talks @iloverodentmen @carpenfaist @nyxmoretti @kill3ill @meetmeatyourworst @coochiemama3000 @scariffs @thryn-the-destroyer @multi-fandom-bi-bitch (to be added)
the car was new. well, not new but unfamiliar. it was a station wagon, reminiscent of what your dad had driven around in the ‘80s, you didn’t even know they still made those. the puppy’s new too, sprinting out of the open car door before the engine had even turned off, all floppy ears and wagging tail. so was the man chasing her, with muttered curse words and failed grabs with veiny arms. the stubble, you noted, was definitely new and you swallowed, hard.
the only familiar part of the chaotic scene was the two kids, penny and tanner, dashing out of the car and onto the soccer pitch, joining nora, your daughter in a flurry of giggles.
the weary man had wrangled the overexcited puppy onto the leash and although the animal was still nipping at his ankles, he was too busy scanning the crowd of parents. following his eyeline, you recognised the judgemental looks and whispers behind hands, you knew what it felt like to be the social pariah. however, when his gaze falls on you, you make a point to look neutral, no indication of welcoming. shamefully, you’d worked hard to climb the ranks to a somewhat average position, break away from the single mother stereotype.
for better or worse, the man chooses to stand next to you, puppy jumping up wildly.
‘just ignore him.’ he says with a quick shake of his head, ‘apparently it’s just a phase.’
the puppy tilts it’s head as if to say this will definitely not be a phase.
you nod politely but he merely takes it as signal to continue.
‘it was supposed to be a surprise, you see?’ he clicks his tongue, ‘tanner was so insistent he’d take care of the poor animal.’
with a shake of your head, you reply wryly. ‘kids always say stuff like that, trick is not to give in.’
‘i’ll… remember that for next time.’ he laughs with a smirk, looking down at the puppy, who was now pushing it’s fluffy head against his shoes, begging for cuddles.
you look down too, and your jaded heart melts at the adorable sight and with a nod from the man, you’re crouching down to pet him and the puppy immediately bumps his face into your hand, licking your fingers excitedly.
it’s only when you stand back up, feeling weirdly warmed by the whole interaction that he introduces himself.
‘i’m frank, by the way.’ he presses his hand to his chest, ‘frank langdon.’
you’re at a loss for words, trying to keep your expression polite whilst your brain fires at a million miles per minute. abby had talked at length about her husband, his time as a doctor, his time in rehab, his lack of time for his kids. by the end, you’d envisioned some sort of monster who was jacked up on pills and only appeared in the depths of nighttime.
that is nothing like the fairly normal man stood beside you. he’s dressed a plain shirt that hugs his upper body, showing faint muscles and regular jeans that aren’t too baggy and aren’t too tight. his dark brown hair is flopping in his face slightly, obscuring his piercing blue eyes. his jawline is set but you’re drawn to the stubble covering it once again and the way his sturdy fingers stroke it as if it still needed some getting used to.
your eyes betrayed you, widening impossibly as you made the connection. he’d never brought the kids to soccer practice before, he was no longer clean shaven and he had a demented puppy with him. abby had finally divorced him.
thankfully, frank hadn’t seemed to take notice of your blatant shock so when you finally answered him, it was as casual as you could muster.
‘oh! well it’s good to finally meet you.’ your smile is strained, not quite meeting your eyes as you try to quell your surprise. ‘i’ve heard so much about you!’
he seemed a little embarrassed by this, looking away slightly. ‘yeah… um… can’t’ve been good.’
you wave your hands rapidly, ‘no, no. trust me, all the moms here complain about their husbands, it’s standard.’
it’s a lie of course, and a bad one at that. there’s complaining about your husband not doing the dishes and there’s complaining about your husband almost losing his job for stealing painkillers.
despite this, it seems to appease frank and he looks back at you with a soft expression. it’s real, almost too real and as you hold his warm gaze, you feel your heart rate slowly increase and the sound of a plastic ball being bounced across the grass and screaming children start to fade into the background.
the moment is interrupted by three children running up to you.
‘mom! mom! mommy! mom!’ came the repeated cry, you’d barely had time to swivel your head to look at nora.
you take a deep regulating breath, ‘yes, sweetheart?’
‘can i stay at tanner and penny’s new house? pleaseeee?’ she whined, making her eyes wide with a grin stretching across half her little face.
‘well…’ you glance at frank’s kids, who were riling their new puppy up to no end and then to frank who was doing his best to keep it all under control.
at your non reply, your daughter doubled down. ‘please, please, please, please, please, please.’
‘okay, okay!’ you hold your hands up in defeat, ‘i just have to ask their dad first.’
nora erupted into cheers and immediately dove into the throng of child and puppy at your feet.
turning to frank with an apologetic face, you ask the question. ‘in case you hadn’t heard, nora wants to have a playdate at your house today.’
you’re half expecting him to say no, come up with some excuse about how there’s no space or he’s hardly unpacked but instead he brightens.
‘oh sure! they’d love that. here…’ he fumbles around in his jean pocket to pull out his phone and you notice the friendship bracelets adorning his wrist, a children’s creation that makes your heart swell. ‘i’ll give you my number in case anything happens.’
you smile slightly, it’s the most considerate a dad has ever been around here. ‘great, thanks.’ you say as you type his digits into your phone. ‘does 6 sound good? i’ll give her dinner at home.’
‘6 is perfect.’ frank replies with a warm smile, and once again his gaze is lingering just a beat too long.
you blink and look away first, ‘okay, nora. come say bye to your mom!’ you call.
‘bye!’ she squeals into your legs, little arms wrapped around them in a hug.
‘bye, honey. have fun.’ you whisper into her hair, pressing a kiss to her scalp before handing her her backpack.
‘be good!’ comes your final cry as she tears off with penny and tanner towards frank’s car.
as you trudged back to your own beat up sedan, you couldn’t help but stare at his contact open on your phone. even as you drove home, blasting music, you found yourself wishing that he’d call or even text. not that you wanted anything bad to happen to nora, far from it, you just wanted to hear his smooth voice again, read his words.
this was wrong, you thought as the key turned in the lock and you came home to an empty house. you weren’t exactly abby’s friend but you were friendly, she was friendly and everyone knew what went down over the last couple of years between her and frank.
and yet, you hadn’t been with someone since you’d given birth to nora, no time to balance a job, a kid and a man. nor did you have time for hookups either, lost track of how long it had been since you’d even had sex.
you were just pent up, you concluded, you saw an attractive man out in the wild and didn’t know how to act. there was no way you could possibly be interested in your friend’s freshly ex husband.
sitting down to watch tv to pass the endless hours, every channel was showing some sort of romance. whether it was cheesy romantic comedies or cringe reality dating shows, it didn’t matter. you were being haunted by your own conflicting feelings.
5:30 couldn’t come fast enough and you practically jumped in the car, surprised you didn’t get a speeding ticket as you pulled up outside frank’s address, your heart had skipped a beat when he’d texted it to you hours earlier.
although you’d convinced yourself you couldn’t possibly be attracted to him, you did reapply your lipstick and check your mascara before getting out of the car. the house was modest, small in a series of ramshackle houses on a street just outside pittsburgh. he clearly wasn’t short of money, so the divorce must not have come as a surprise.
even as you stood on his creaky wooden porch, you could hear the cacophony of chaos from behind the door. as you knocked, you heard shrill barking and the door opened just as golden fur dove at you only to be grabbed by the scruff of it’s neck and yanked back.
‘sorry, sorry.’ frank mutters quickly as he shooed the poor creature away, ‘like i said, still a lot of training to go.’
you blink, bewildered. ‘no it’s fine, really.’ you smile politely, suddenly at a loss for words just from the sight of him.
‘it’s um- nora!’ he shouts upstairs, ‘your mom’s here!’
there’s the sound of giggles and definitely no footsteps on the stairs.
frank pulls a face and runs his fingers through his hair, ‘they might be a while, do you want to come in?’ he gestures behind him.
before you can even think, you’re stepping past the threshold.
‘sure, thanks.’ you smile.
the interior is a mess, the furniture is simple, recent store items but it’s all draped in piles of laundry and children’s toys. everything has puppy height bites in it and you can barely see the living room rug, filled with torn up teddies.
‘i apologise for the mess, my job doesn’t give me a whole lot of time for housekeeping.’ he shrugs, it’s an excuse but a genuine one. even so, nora didn’t make half as much mess as this.
‘i understand, you’re a doctor right?’ comes your warm reply.
he brightens, corner of his lips quirking up. ‘yeah. emergency medicine.’
‘brave.’ you say wryly.
‘you said it not me.’ he joked as he opened the fridge door. ‘drink?’
you slide onto the dining table bench, flicking a transformers toy aside and adjust your outfit, which you admit was not your typical picking up your daughter get up but you couldn’t help yourself.
‘well if you’re-’ you regret the words as soon as they came out of your mouth.
his expressions hardens slightly, but it’s not directed at you, rather the portrayal of a million guilty memories.
his response is blunt, ‘i don’t.’
‘right- of course-’ you say quickly, swallowing down your embarrassment. ‘me neither.’
frank doesn’t say any more and you don’t want to push so you’re now stuck in this agonising silence, sipping respective glasses of water.
‘so-’ you both start at the same time, before he laughs and shakes his head.
‘you go.’ he nods, earnest.
you press your lips together, ‘it’s a nice house.’ you sidestep, not wanting to say what was actually on your mind when he was being so hospitable.
frank looked around, as if seeing it himself for the first time. ‘yeah… my parents helped me out a bit.’
‘that’s good.’ you reply, awkward and a little too fast and he eyes you slightly.
with a sly smirk, he puts you on the spot. ‘why? what’s your house like then?’
almost choking on your water, ‘it’s not that much different if you must know. just a lot…’ your eyes twinkle with mischief as you add the last word, ‘cleaner.’
the laugh erupts from frank, a broad smile stretching across his face as he watches you with mock surprise.
‘oh yeah? well i suppose you’ve got half the kids and…’ he tilts his head to the side, ‘what do you do? for work i mean.’
‘right. i’m a consultant, it’s boring, trust me.’ you shrug.
‘so half the kids and half the hours then.’ frank jokes and you feel your cheeks grow hot.
‘alright, alright.’ you shake your head, staring down into your glass.
‘hey.’ he murmured quietly, ‘i was joking.’
‘i know.’ you retort but as you look up, you can see the way his piercing eyes had softened.
his gaze was lingering again, that beat too long that made your breath quicken. you didn’t want to look away until your phone screen lit up and it jolted you out of the moment.
‘shit is that the time already? it’s almost…’
frank was already standing, opening the fridge. ‘dinnertime?’
you move to follow immediately, ‘you don’t have to. i can take her home and feed her, honestly.’
he didn’t miss a beat, ‘stay. i want you to.’
his tone was gentle but authoritative, the words simple but they struck a chord anyway, your heart swelling as you leaned against the kitchen counter.
‘god i can’t see why abby divorced you.’ you mutter under your breath, your tone is joking but his head snaps up regardless, he heard you.
frank freezes, and you can see his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he processes what you just said. you can’t apologise, it’s too late, the words hanging in the air
‘i messed up, bad.’ comes his stoic reply, though his voice was wavering. ‘i worked really hard to atone for what i did, but it wasn’t enough for her.’
‘i know i-’ you cut in, swallowing.
he shakes his head, ‘and that’s okay. i’m just grateful she lets me see my kids.’
you sigh, following his sorrowful gaze upstairs, ‘frank i-’
he turns to look at you then, eyes hard but again, he’s not mad at you but rather himself. ‘i let a lot of people down, abby included and i’m not asking for forgiveness from anyone, i just want to prove that i can get better, be better.’
it was the most honest thing you’d heard about the whole situation and it made your heart ache. you couldn’t hate abby for how she felt, far from it but there was something in frank’s expression that meant you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him too, whether he wanted it or not.
‘do you want a hug?’ comes your quiet sympathy.
he doesn’t say anything so you step closer, arms enveloping him warmly. frank is broad, not outwardly muscular with bulging arms but his chest is rock solid, sinewy arms working their way around your waist. the hug stretches from seconds into minutes, neither of you want to pull away and his chin starts to rest atop your head.
eventually, you step apart but his arms move to slide on top of yours, each of your hands gripping the others elbows. frank licks his lips and you think it’s going to happen, that he’ll lean in and-
‘can you get the plates out of the cupboard, please? on the left above the microwave.’ he whispers, tone almost too casual and you nod, pulling away.
you don’t notice how he watches you, ass bending over slightly to reach up and grab a stack of porcelain.
as you start to lay the table, frank calls. ‘don’t worry about that, the kids can eat outside, it’s nice out. penny and tanner are always begging me to let them.’
your brow furrows, ‘you sure?’
he’s already piling fries on each plate, ‘yeah, i’m sure.’
doing your best to suppress your smile, you nod in agreement.
‘kids!’ frank bellows, ‘dinner!’
they all come barrelling down the stairs, crowding the kitchen like feral creatures, the puppy attempting to climb the counters to get to the chicken nuggets.
‘come on, go eat outside please.’ he shooed them away.
penny and tanner’s faces lit up before scrambling to open the backdoor and tumble into the fenced in grass, puppy running laps. nora hung back, holding her plate but looking at you expectantly.
‘go on, honey. it’s okay, frank and i are having dinner too.’ comes your gentle confirmation and she brightens once more.
‘sweet!’ she cheers before dashing out after them and plopping herself down with her plate.
‘now…’ frank slides the door shut and the kitchen falls quiet again, a soft domestic quiet that you could certainly get used to. ‘where were we?’
you don’t miss the flirty undertones in his words, so your reply is equally salacious, ‘i believe we were about to have dinner… together.’
he smirks and sits down opposite you, fork stabbing a forlorn fry. ‘so, what’s your story?’
you tilt your head to the side, ‘oh i don’t have one.’ comes your quick, polite response.
‘sure you don’t.’ frank retorts, staring at you so intently that you can’t avert your gaze.
shrugging, you exhale. ‘i picked the wrong guy to be the father of my child.’
frank doesn’t push, but he doesn’t say anything either, just continuing to study you.
‘he didn’t- he wasn’t… abusive like that.’ you shake your head quickly, focusing on cutting a chicken nugget into tinier and tinier bites. ‘he wasn’t ready, even though he told me it was what he wanted.’
‘so he ran? took off?’ frank prompted, though his words were barely audible.
your neck snapped up then, ‘oh yeah, he was long gone before she was even born. ran off with the girl he’d been cheating on me with for the last nine months.’ your tone is wry, joking even but there’s an undercurrent of hurt that still lingers.
he deflated slightly but his hand enclosed your own across the table.
‘i’m sorry.’ was all frank said but something inside you split open.
‘it’s fine, he doesn’t deserve to know her anyway.’ you suck your teeth, gazing out the window at nora laughing with penny and tanner, that laugh where she snorts so loud it only makes her laugh harder and your eyes fill with tears all of a sudden. ‘although… sometimes i wonder if she knows what she doesn’t have, whether she misses having a father despite everything. i do my best to provide for her but- it’ll never be the same.’
he falls quiet, watching you watching her for what feels like an eternity. the tears are flowing now, irregular and small but there, so when frank finally does speak, the first thing he does is wipe a wobbling tear from your cheek with a calloused thumb.
‘the fact that you think that tells me you’re better than two parents combined.’ he whispers sincerely, brow furrowing as he looks you over gently.
‘you mean that?’ you whimper, it’s almost childish how your bottom lip starts to wobble.
he seemed amused by that, ‘wouldn’t say it if i didn’t.’
swallowing down your tears, your answer is soft, broken. ‘thank you.’
maybe it was your heightened emotional state, or the childhood food in front of you both, but you found yourself leaning in. frank didn’t pull away and when your lips finally met, all your heartfelt confessions faded into the background. it was hard to get closer with the table in the way, but it didn’t matter, the kisses were rapid, barely time to breathe between lips crashing into each other.
when you do break away, you giggle in embarrassment as frank’s whole face reddens, right to the tips of his ears.
‘i’m sorry.’ frank grins as he repeats those two words, meaning so different from just a few moments ago.
‘no you’re not.’ you retort with narrowed eyes and a chuckle.
‘no i’m not.’ he concedes, grin only widening.
his hand is still in yours, and now he turns it, so your palm is facing upwards. your fingers interlock with his own and you both just watch it, the connection forming between you.
‘it’s been so long since i-’ you start, wide eyes finding his sure ones.
‘i don’t care.’ frank shrugs, tone breathy and light.
you press your lips together and slide out of your chair. ‘fuck it.’
frank follows you as you open the backdoor, curiosity written all over his expression.
‘nora!’ you shout across the yard and her head swivels, ‘do you want to sleep over?’
she jumps up immediately, ‘yes please!’
none of the kids notice frank’s muscular arm snaking around your waist but you do. the unfamiliar warmth of his chest pressed against your back and his chin fitting perfectly into the crook of your shoulder.
so?’ you whisper in his ear with raised eyebrows.
frank shut the backdoor with ease, one handed so he didn’t have to be separated from you.
sprinting up the stairs like children, you didn’t even make it to his bed before he was all over you. pressed up against the door, frank’s kisses were passionate and fast, hands roaming all over you. your hands slid down to his ass, resting there and your tongue prodded his bottom lip, encouraging him to go slow and savour this as his tongue slid over yours.
as the kisses grow longer, stretching into minutes since you’d come up for air, your hands snake round from his ass to the zipper on his jeans, tugging it down and feeling the bulge hiding behind, spring forward.
frank groans into your mouth, before pulling away to break for breathless panting.
‘fuck.’ his face screws up as he tries to calm his body that’s thrumming with desire.
without warning, he grips your hips and turns you around so your stomach is pressed against the door, back arched and he laughs deliciously.
‘please… oh god.’ you whimper, grateful you wore your shortest and tightest skirt for the occasion.
frank wastes no time in pulling it down over your ass till it falls to your ankles. you can hear the sound of his belt unbuckling and denim kicked across the floor. he plants his hands on either side of your head against the door frame and torturously starts to rub his clothed bulge against your clothed pussy.
‘frank…’ you plead shakily, already aching with need.
‘yeah? you want this?’ he growls, right in your ear and your whole body shivers.
‘so bad. so- so bad.’ you reply with a sharp moan as he presses right against you.
his fingers dip into your panty line, and the skin there comes up in goosebumps instantaneously, just from the briefest of touches. he slowly pulls them down to reveal your hungry pussy.
‘holy…’ he breathes, running his finger along one of your folds teasingly, making you clench.
‘frank!’ you gasp, as cold breeze hits your hole.
‘okay… okay…’ he mutters, pulling down his own underwear.
you feel his throbbing erection brush up against your cunt, but he doesn’t enter, not yet. the teasing is killing you and it’s hardly been that long.
a large hand taps your inner thigh, ‘further apart, come on.’
you comply immediately, shuffling your legs out as far as they can go without you toppling over and that’s when his sensitive tip breaches you.
it’s slow at first, barely inside before he’s pulling it out again, only to re-enter with an extra inch. your breath catches in your throat as he continues this game of in, out, in, out.
‘for fuck’s sake!’ you groan, forehead slamming against the word.
‘easy, i don’t want to hurt you.’ he mutters, kissing at your neck.
‘i’ve pushed a whole child out of there, just fuck me already.’ you whine and frank’s startled by your forwardness.
happy to oblige, he starts slamming into you like a mad man, balls slapping against your ass. frank’s hands are digging into your hips like he’s kneading dough, and you relish the thought of the bruises there in the morning.
‘oh yes- yes- god-’ you moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head.
‘we gotta be- ngh.. quiet.’ frank grunts as his dick slides in and out of your soaked hole.
you can barely hear him over the sloppy sounds your pussy is making, it’s obscene the way the spongy walls grip every vein of his girth, even when the tip brushes that sweet spot inside you that makes you see stars.
‘fuck- please- please!’ you gasp and cry, trying to grind into his dick but you're sandwiched between him and the door so it’s near impossible to move, apart from your shaking legs.
‘i said-’ frank panted, ‘quiet.’
as he speaks, his fingers slide into your open mouth and you almost finish on the spot. the combination of his digits inside your drooling mouth, pressing against your teeth and tongue and his cock plunging in and out of your pussy is too much, too overwhelming in the best way.
‘ugh- close-’ you garble and frank doesn’t even pause, increasing his pace.
your orgasm comes just seconds later, crashing over you like a tidal wave. everything is blurry, except his hand in your face and his length buried somewhere deep in your cunt. you’re certain your juices are soaking the carpeted floor, spraying out and lining his dick like a sheath. garbled moans and sordid cries, it’s just as you’re coming down from your high that frank reaches his pinnacle.
perhaps it was the sight of you, shaking and writhing that made his load squirt directly into your pussy, or perhaps it was the feeling of you drooling over his fingers and coating his dick in your cum. regardless, frank was now shuddering just as intensely as you, forced to lean his whole body weight on you just so he could stay upright. his moans are filthy, whispered directly into your ear along with broken variations of your name.
eventually, frank removes his cock from inside you and it falls flaccid between his legs. swallowing, you right yourself and dust yourself off, licking your lips.
‘go pee.’ he urges, pushing his floppy brown hair out of his face in a way that is utterly endearing. ‘i’ll give you one of my shirts to sleep in.
he stayed true to his word. even though you contemplated what on earth you were doing as you sat on the toilet, the moment you slipped on his shirt, everything felt right. sliding into the warmed sheets beside him, frank’s arm fell over yours and you dozed off almost immediately, feeling a sense of safety you hadn’t realised you’d missed with all those years alone in bed.
the next morning, nora’s too sleep deprived to realise you stayed over too, and penny and tanner are also too exhausted to notice their dad looks a lot more chipper this morning, not scolding the puppy as much, rather sneaking a lot more glances at you as you sip coffee in his shirt.
you could bathe in the domesticity of it all, the kids amicably chatting mixed with puppy chowing down on food as background noise to you and frank washing up together, talking about everything and nothing and kissing between each dried dish.
nora falls asleep on the drive home almost immediately, so she doesn’t clock you’re in the same clothes as last night. your phone pings with a text message from frank and for the first time in an age, you feel more than satisfied, you feel complete.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Missing the oh pudge Patrick rn pls bring him back i beg!!
SMUT 18+, p in v, oral (f receiving), somno adjacent, fingers in mouth, little bit of breeding, one single thigh slap, not at all proofread, it's very obvious that i missed writing for dadbod!patrick
dadbod!patrick who's always ready for you. 5:30 in the morning and you're starting to stir because you have to get the kids ready for school soon, but you're a little distracted by the feel of him pressed against you. you're both laying on your side, his arm stretched across your body, and you can feel the weight of his belly pressed against your back, the warmth and comfort radiating through you. below that, though, there's something else: something thick and needy, poking at the flesh of your ass. you don't even need to turn around to know that he's wide awake, too. the sleep-schedule he'd built in his tennis years had never gone away.
"already...?" you sleepily grumble, your eyes still shut. you had barely woken up and as much as you loved him, you were not energized enough to move just yet.
"shh..." he whispers, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "just gonna take care of myself. that okay?" he asks sweetly, his voice low and a little raspy from sleep.
"mhm," you allow, and his hand is immediately finding its way between your legs.
he starts simply, just running his fingers through your folds, warming up your clit, building up your wetness so that he can eventually ease himself in. despite your barely awake state, it doesn't take long for his fingers to start moving smoother as your wetness grows for him.
"your pussy is always so good to me," he murmurs, pressing kisses to the side of your neck. "you're always so good to me. so lucky that you're my wife."
you could reach fifty years of marriage with him, and he'd still keep saying it—he always made sure to remind you of his love and his gratitude for you and the kids.
he pulls your thigh back gently, letting your leg rest behind you on his hip, opening you up for him. his fingers find your button once more, circling the spot until he hears you let out the sweetest, sleepiest little moan for him.
"feeling good?" he checks. "think i can get in there?" his beard rubs your shoulder as he asks the question, his face resting atop the area. he waits for you to acknowledge him before he reaches down, sliding his cock through your juices before gently pressing in.
his groan of satisfaction meets your moan in the air as he stretches you open easily, slowly bottoming out. you feel him reach the hilt and your walls flutter around him, eliciting yet another groan from him which lands directly in your ear.
your mouth falls open as he begins to move—you're still a little too sleepy to realize you're moaning just a tad too loudly for before 6am.
"gotta keep it down, baby," he reminds you. "don't wanna wake the kids up just yet." you can hear the teasing grin in his voice as he starts to roll his hips at a moderate pace, his thigh flexing to keep your leg securely anchored over his. the bed creaks ever-so-slightly in time with his movements, his tummy pressing harder against your back.
the hand that isn't still teasing your clit snakes around the top of you, finding its way past the fabric of the worn-out sleep shirt you're barely wearing and reaching its destination at your eager nipples. you all but squeak as he pinches one, rolling it between his thick fingers.
"can't have you being that loud, now, can we?" he snickers, playfully biting your shoulder. "lemme help you out, yeah?"
he keeps one hand assigned to your breasts, but his left hand moves toward your face, his middle and ring finger pressing at your mouth. your lips part, allowing him to slide them in, then immediately close as you swirl your fingers around his digits, sucking them in. the sweetness of your own slick mixed with the tang from the cool metal of his wedding band sets your senses alight, your eyes fluttering open.
he grunts rhythmically in your ear, pressing impossibly closer to you as his thrusts grow quicker, shallower, needier.
"getting so close," he groans. "so fucking close. gonna fill you up, 'kay, babe? maybe we can make another. then i can keep you in bed all day; see your cute, sleepy face all the time. wouldn't that be nice?" his voice is gruff yet airy as he spills all of his fantasies in your ear, the tired springs of the bed getting louder, now.
"fuck, patrick," you whimper as his fingers withdraw from your mouth, a long string of spit dangling between you. "you're so fucking needy," you jokingly whine. "nasty, too, talking about filling me up before the sun is even fully out."
"what can i say?" he pants, grin evident in his voice as he ruts into you. "you make me like this. i've got the sexiest wife in the world. it takes a lot of restraint for big man like me to not just keep you here like this 24/7."
you chuckle, but both of you know he's not entirely joking—patrick has proven many times that he's absolutely insatiable when it comes to you.
his hips stutter, his rhythm faltering as he thrusts into you, one, two, three more times before spilling his load into you, groaning far too loudly. there's so much of it, it leaks around the length of him, dripping all over your thighs.
before you can say anything, he flips you around, easily lifting your messy pussy to his bearded mouth to work you to your finish as well. "shit—patrick!" you exclaim, a cross between surprise and overwhelming pleasure. he doesn't bother responding, just lays a light slap against your thigh as a reminder to keep quiet as he sucks at your clit.
your hips roll against his face involuntarily and he moans in delight, the vibration traveling through your core as he holds you to his face, his giant hands tightly gripping your ass. his beard scratches deliciously against your skin as he eats you out like the hungriest man alive, making mere minutes before you're gripping the headboard for purchase, back arching as he drinks up your orgasm.
he helps you off of him slowly, laying you down onto your back as he takes a moment to catch his breath.
"feeling good?" he asks breathily, glancing over at your relaxed form.
"feeling great," you confirm, meeting his gaze with a lazy grin.
he matches your smile before slowly pushing himself to standing, crossing the bedroom to clean himself up and throw on his clothes.
"gonna go wake those little shits up," he tells you, pretending like he doesn't notice your eyes roving all over his sweaty, heavy frame.
you start to push yourself up as well, but he's quick to stride over and push you back down.
"i need to go make their lu—" you start to protest, but he cuts you off with a shake of his head.
"what you need to do is close your eyes," he tells you, pulling on a shirt. "ruined your beauty sleep, didn't i? get a couple more hours in, and stop worrying. i promise i can handle morning duty," he smiles gently.
you know he won't have an issue getting them to school on time, but you feel bad making him do all the work himself. "at least let me make br—"
"nope," he interrupts again. "i can handle pancakes for breakfast. and i'm sure they'll be fine with daddy's gourmet pb&js for lunch. or we can bring them taco bell later. they'll be over the moon. just lay your cute butt back down and go back to sleep, okay?" he instructs, now dressed in a truly stylish combo of a t-shirt with an indescribable stain and the most worn-out shorts ever.
you know it's no use trying to argue with him, so you let yourself lay back a little. "wake me up before you guys leave," you tell him sternly, eyes already starting to get heavy.
"we'll see," he snorts, wiping a damp towel between your thighs before pulling the covers back over you. "sleep well, baby," he whispers, his beard tickling your nose as he presses a kiss to your forehead.
a moment later, the sound of the bedroom door gently shutting is the last thing you hear before you drift off again, a satiated smile on your face as you dream of your loving husband.
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maybe i'm crazy but dadbod!frank langdon is such a yummy thought okay... thinking about sucking him off, his big hands guiding your head up and down his length while your nose brushes into his thick bush with each bob of your head. you had spent a while before this just kissing down his chest, licking up and down his happy trail, your hands brushing along the thick of his belly.
he can't fully understand why you're so obsessed with him like this—he himself was a little insecure of the weight he had put on in the time since tanner and penny had been born, but to you, he was only getting sexier by the day. he always catches the hungry look in your eye and the way it'll spring up over the simplest of things—his arm resting over the swell of his belly, the way that his happy trail will peek out from under his worn pitt museum t-shirt (that he absolutely refuses to toss)—it all drives you crazy. the more he notices it, the more confident he gets—which means he slowly starts to forgo wearing a shirt around the house.
your hands grip and squeeze at the meat of his thighs as you continue to work your mouth on him, his groans and whispers of praise and satisfaction only egging you on. he pulls you off of him for a moment, smirking at your soft whine of protest, easily handling you into a different position. "wanna have my share, too," he mutters as he adjusts his face in between your thighs, laying you across him so that your mouth can find his dick again, your chest pressing into his tummy.
both of you end up finishing like this, him filling your mouth and covering your face and his pelvis with white, hot, thick spurts as he groans your name, the sound vibrating through your core, only making you roll your hips on his face even faster.
once he's helped clean both of you off, you're curled back in bed again, head resting on his stomach as his fingers card through your hair. it's a matter of minutes before you're both dozing off. the last thing you hear before you drift off is the sound of his peaceful snores, the rise and fall of his chest and belly lulling you to sleep.
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the moment the bedroom door clicked shut, frank was on you, his body pinning yours against the hard wood of the door before you could even register the movement. his mouth was a desperate, hungry thing, claiming yours with a ferocity that spoke of sixteen hours of an overwhelmingly sterile emergency department and endless beeping monitors. it wasn't your lips he was after for long, though. with a decisive grunt, you were being tossed onto the bed; his blue eyes, wild and glinting in the dim light, fixated on the collar of your cotton t-shirt. he didn't even bother waiting for you to pull it all the way off. one of his large, calloused hands pushed the material up to your collarbone, the roughness of his palm grazing your already pebbling nipple before cupping one of your breasts.
he wasted no time. his mouth latched onto one of your breasts, his tongue swirling around the peak before flicking it a few times. finally, he sucked. the suction was immediate and overwhelming, a deep, pulling pressure that seemed to draw the very air from your lungs. he groaned, the noise muffled by your flesh, his eyes closing with the comfort of having his mouth occupied. his tongue was a firm, wet velvet against your sensitive flesh, swirling and flicking with an expertise that, if you were standing, would have made your knees buckle.
his other hand moved to your back, pressing you closer, focusing more of your breast into his greedy mouth. you could feel the slight brush of his evening stubble against your soft skin, a delicious friction that heightened every sensation. your fingers instinctively found their way into his thick, luscious, dark hair, your nails scraping against his scalp as you held him to you, tugging slightly. he moaned again, the sound a low, vibrating hum of pure satisfaction that shot straight to your core, making you grind your hips against nothing but air. he released your nipple with a wet pop, a breathy chuckle escaping him as he let the string of saliva that was connecting his mouth to your skin slacken and drip between you. you whined as he panted for a moment, catching his breath. the sound; the tone of his name passing through your lips; makes him smirk, his face nothing but pure want as he dove back down to fixate onto your other tit, giving it the same worshipful, demanding attention.
this was his obsession; his solace. the world outside this room, with its emergencies and its impossible demands, melted away until there was only this—the taste of your skin, the weight of your tit in his palm, the sound of your breathing going ragged. his mouth was relentless, alternating between soft, lapping kisses, and hard, sucking pulls that made your head fall back and your moans take the shape of his name. he would take as much of you as he could into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing with the effort, before pulling back to lavish attention on the peak with just the tip of his tongue. "that's it, baby," he'd murmur, his voice muffled against you. "so fucking perfect for me."
your hips began to rock of their own accord once again, seeking a friction you couldn't find—though finally, he seemed to understand. he shifted his position so his thigh was pressed firmly between your legs. the new pressure was a welcome relief, and you rode his leg as he continued his salivary worship, the tightening of your grip in his hair making him groan.
time seemed to stretch and warp, each minute an eternity of exquisite sensation. he was lost in it—in you. his eyes were shut as though he was meditating on the very taste of you. he lavished attention on the sensitive underside of your breasts, his tongue tracing the heavy curve before returning to your nipples, now swollen and dark from his attention. he nipped at them with his teeth—not so gently, either—sending sharp, electric jolts through you that made you cry out. "frank," you breathed, the name a prayer; a plea on your lips. he looked up at you then, his lips glistening, his eyes hazy with a lust so profound it could be mistaken for idealization. "my baby," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "so good for me, taste so good." he dove back in once more, his sucking becoming more urgent; more demanding, as if he were trying to draw out your very soul through your skin. you could feel the heat building low in your belly, a tightening coil of pleasure that wound tighter with every pull of his mouth; every grind of your hips against his leg; every whispered praise that fell from his lips. the world narrowed this single point of contact, to the wet heat of his mouth and the overwhelming, all-consuming pleasure that was frank.
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a/n at the bottom this time lol hello!!! surprise everyone i still remember how to write! i apologize for the insane amount of semicolons and run-on sentences, i am trying to reduce the amount of em-dashes i use because it seems as though They are going to get me. i missed you guys a lot!!!! but as fun as this was, this is not a permanent return to writing for me. i just recently got into the pitt and frank langdon is one of the many characters that has me #hornedup! with that being said my inbox is technically open and i'd love to yap it up whenever i'm free (though y'all know i'm busy as hell) because i miss you giys so so soso so much. okay this is getting long (i.e., the dick of jack abbot) so i'm going to close this by tagging a few moots that are fans of the pitt bc why not (and because i obviously don't have a taglist for the show because this is my first time writing for it)? okay byeeeeeeee love you all mwah mwah mwah <3333
random tags off the top of my head please don't be mad if i missed you: @cha11engers @voidsuites @roryheartz @pedaltothepetal @peachyparkerr @pittsick @dumbbandpoetic @musingsofheaven @scariffs
hear me out! nerd!patrick whos actually a perv and once he gets to be with the girl he has a crush on he fucks her stupid
nerdy!patrick who is oh so quiet--soft-spoken in class and quick to avert his eyes away from yours, speckled green trapped behind fingerprinted glasses. the lenses are thicker than you thought; you notice when you're close to him. and patrick doesn't realize that so many girls aim to get closer to him: dropping their pens strategically near his desk, asking him for the notes. random text messages that he looks at quizzically, unsure of how anybody got his number--he only gives it out to his closest friends. he always sits at the very front of the classroom. always has a clicky black pen and smears of ink on his arm because he prefers to handwrite his notes instead of type them out--it helps him pay attention more.
his professors love him enough to break their sworn promise at the beginning of the semester: I do not give out A+s. but everyone sees the perfect marks on his papers and the long-winded notes of praise on the midterm. women professors love him the most because he reminds them of the men they've always wanted in their lives. handsome and tall and freckled and hanging on to their every word. mesmerizingly intelligent and humble, so messy yet put-together.
its spectacular how unaware he is of his perfection and the constant flitting of girls' eyes up and down his body goes unnoticed by him. maybe he just has a girlfriend? it's what many girls have posited yet hoped and prayed it wasn't true and that maybe alongside that they were his perfect type.
and maybe patrick seems like the innocent type, but really, it's just nerves and an unwillingness to embarass himself. he honestly has to adhere his eyes to the confines of his spiral bound red notebook to keep himself from running his eyes over your legs in that tennis skirt of yours, your tits loose in the tank top you threw on without a bra this morning.
while it should be a blessing that it's getting hotter outside, he sort of resents it because god he has a crush on you and its hard to hide his boners and he's more apt to growing this insane blush on his cheeks that creeps down his neck when he's already overheating.
every single monday and wednesday he promises himself he will ask you for your number--there can't be any pretext--he's the student who knows everything so it's not like he can bother you for lecture notes--but he never follows through. the end of the semester creeps towards him, a strange, bitter reminder that you'd probably forget about him.
so he asks for it in the second-to-last class, just before the professor begins class. its so strange to see patrick near the back of the classroom, spinning a pencil through his deft fingers--so everyone is looking at him. he's quiet when he asks you, almost too much so.
"can i get your number?" his eyes meet yours and you see their depth for the first time, although still hidden behind square black frames.
you shrug and act cool and you feel the hot laser-focus of the other girls' stares on your back.
you feel dumb admitting it to him, the smartest in the class, but you do anyway, aiming to get something in the books with him before the semester ends and he's off to wherever he calls home for the summer.
"would you mind helping me study for this class? i have no idea where to start."
and patrick had every intent of helping you; he made a study outline and flashcards and came over to your house with the textbook you'd barely skimmed past the first chapter.
but your pointed questions and strong eye contact made it hard for him, made him stumble on his words and gnaw on your pencil eraser before apologizing profusely.
"are you nervous?" you leaned forward and took the pencil from his mouth.
"i mean--sure." he admitted. yes, he was, obviously.
the test was tomorrow, on wednesday. you had asked him to help you study and he felt really bad but he also had a fucking boner and your room was unbearably hot. his temples were wet with sweat, the kind that lingered.
"do you want to study or should we focus on something else?" you meant it earnestly, in the most innocuous of ways, and patrick should have been more respectful in his response but his dick was straining against his shorts and your hand was on his knee.
the depth of his puppy-dog eyes boring into you made the blow of his response a little less severe.
"i really wanna fuck you."
you looked away instincively and patrick thought he fucked up but then you perched yourself on his lap and tugged on the hem of his heather grey t-shirt. watching him peel it off was mesmerizing--the tautness of his muscles and the peppering of chest hair. the happy trail that forced you to see his cock pressing against his shorts--was he on the tennis team? he looked too strong for tennis: too unlike the scrawnier boys she had seen running laps around the track last fall.
god he's hot--but the way he was looking at you was with more lust, more fervor, more obsession. he had been waiting for this for months and he didn't have a ton of experience but he knew how to tug your bottom lop into his mouth and swipe his tongue through your teeth to pry you open for him. he knew his hands were big and strong and how to press them against your ass, wrap them around your waist, guide you against him. he groaned into your mouth and laid you down on your bed. spit in his hand and into your mouth and pushed your panties to the side. he wanted it to be like this--rushed--to prove something to himself, that he could do the spur-of-the-moment, that he needed you so bad even one more minute was a century too long for him.
he plunged his fingers inside you, forehead pressed against yours. curling them, he let you push his shorts down just past his ass to free his cock. you were so wet and he told you that and you felt the loose smirk against your neck as he licked your skin and pushed himself inside you. the sweetness of his general demeanor, the nervous lack of eye contact, and the stuttering of his questions to you made you think he would fuck you slowly. he didn't. he asked if it was okay and he made sure you said yes, yes it was--but then he fucked you hard and deep, snapping his hips and lifting your own, hands dug into the flesh of your ass so he could plunge himself inside you the way he'd dreamt about it, cock in his fist, chest heaving so hard he thought he would fucking pass out.
his hair was plastered to his forehead and he grunted into your neck, your mouth, the cotton of your pillowcase.
"fuck me--" he plead, seemingly begging you, although he was in complete control. "you like that?" he taunted. you didn't know he had it in him--this cockiness you'd seen mostly in fraternity boys.
and maybe before you had had this trance over patrick, but that was long gone as you could barely mutter a word from beneath him. you were all gasps and a flurry of grabbing hands, wanting to find purchase on his ass, his hair, the silver chain around his neck. you were being loud and you knew it but god you didn't care. patrick pushed his fingers into your mouth regardless, slowing his thrusts because he was about to cum and he could tell you were too.
