li'l sugar soaker

those big blue eyes are so pitiful and needy and desperate and he knows it kills you

he's a big fan of dropping to his knees after you tell him he's being a dick, picking some stupid argument with you after he had a bad day at work

he's defiant for a while and then just "i know baby, i know, i'm the worst… let me make it up to you?'

and it gets you every time because you're only human!

his mouth is good for arguing but also good when it's lapping at your core, whimpering into your heat and all over you like you're the best thing he's ever tasted

frank gets so into eating you out, too — he palms himself while he's on his knees, face buried so deep in you you're a little scared he can't breathe (he would happily suffocate there)

you eventually have to pull him off of you and he whines when you pull his hair, his eyes glazed over when he looks up at you

c.ws :: mdni , smut , slight degradation , missionary so you can continue arguing , dirty talk.

"stop being so fucking mad at me." frank grumbles out from above, driving the point home by grinding his cock in deeper inside you. your thighs quiver despite yourself where they're hooked around his waist, lewd slapping noises permeating the room just to tease you. “i said sorry an hour ago.”

you keep turning your face, trying to angle it out of reach, or at least force the fury back into your expression. you can’t fight the scrunch of pleasure that crosses your face, however. he can see that too. the grudge held like a stone dam, meant to keep your pride immune and well guarded from the way he's fucking you into the mattress. but it never works.

"m’not-"

"you are." he nips at your shoulder, voice muffled. "you keep clenching up when i talk.” his hips rear back steadily, a wet squelch sounding from where you're joined, then he sinks back in with a grunt of effort. "except down here."

the truth stings worse than the fight itself: frank knows you like the back of his hand. the front and back. he knows exactly how to fuck you until your resentment feels misplaced and petty.

hands that had been pushing against his chest find the silky sheets instead, clutching tight.

"it was a stupid fight," he pushes in again, slowly, allowing you to relish in the thick ridge and veins dragging along your walls while he explains the situation to you.

"and you know it." pride makes you not answer, of course, the only thing you can manage is a soft whine.

"sweetheart," he sighs. "you really gonna let me cum in this pussy while you're busy pretendin' to hate me?" you blink up at him in silent retort. defiance radiating from every inch of your face.

"mmm." the man even has the audacity to pinch the bridge of his nose, like you're the one being unreasonable. like he’s not currently balls deep. "always so fucking stubborn." he reaches between your bodies, thumbing lazily at your clit. "you think i like walking out?"

rage bubbles back up your throat at once, rolling your eyes with the little attitude you had remaining. "you slammed the door — our door — and left."

"you knew damn well i'd come back…” he grunts, not missing a beat to retort. an especially brutal thrust has you seeing stars. "you’re a smart girl, stop acting stupid, yeah?" you try to hitch your hips, to hurry him along but he only holds you down, eyes narrowing.

"go ahead and scream all you want, curse me out, break something if you need to. but don't fall asleep hating me.” he rambles on, shaking his head faintly. “can’t take that shit."

your words come out sharp, bitter once you find your voice. "so what’s your plan, fuck me into forgiveness?”

there's no hesitation in him when a toothy grin splits across his face, "there you go. if we fight in the morning? before work? fine. but if we're sharing a bed like this, we fix it before we close our eyes. understood?" no thought forms twice before your head's nodding stupidly, not an ounce of resistance (or dignity) left in you as he sinks back in.

"good girl, now be sweet to me while i cum."

𝐆𝐮𝐲 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐌!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

You were already breathless, sprawled out on your back, sweat sticking to your skin. His smirk hovered above you, smug and infuriating, the kind that made your pulse pound. “Damn, you’re twitchy,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly as he pushed two fingers inside you. He curled them deliberately, dragging against every spot that made your back arch. “Look at you, falling apart just from this.” You bit your lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction of a moan, but it slipped out anyway. His grin widened. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he teased, leaning down so close you felt his breath. 

Then he pulled his fingers free, leaving you clenching around nothing. Before you could whine, a faint green glow lit up the room. His ring hummed, crackling with energy, and suddenly you felt something else pressing against you. Not his fingers this time — constructs, perfectly smooth, pulsing with his will. You tried to speak, but before you could form the sentence he pushed forward, driving himself into you in one hard, claiming thrust. The sound that tore from your chest was half-moan, half-cry, your body stretching around his cock. “Shit—” he hissed, head tipping back for a second as he bottomed out. His chest pressed hard against yours, hot breath grazing your cheek as he leaned down, his lips barely brushing yours when he spoke. “Tight as hell.”

You bucked up against them, your voice breaking. “F–fuck…!” “Language,” he drawled mockingly, eyes glinting as he watched you squirm. “You like it though, don’t you? My will wrapped around you, pushing deeper… filling you exactly how I want.” The constructs twisted at his command, teasing spots he hadn’t touched yet, while his thumb pressed firmly at your hip to keep you down. You couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but take it while he studied your face like he was memorizing every reaction. “Look at you,” he said with a wicked grin, “squirming, begging, and I haven’t even given you my cock yet. Gonna make you lose your damn mind.”

“Fuck, you’re squeezing on nothing but light,” he said, voice low and rough. “Bet you never thought you’d get split open by a damn construct, did you?” Your hips jerked up, chasing the sensation, but his palm shoved your chest harder into the bed. “No, no, no—none of that. You don’t move unless I let you.” “Please—” you managed, your voice cracking as the glowing fingers spread and curled inside you, relentless. He laughed, biting at your jaw as his free hand squeezed your face, making you look at him. “Begging already? Damn, I like you better like this. Wide open, pinned down, stuffed full of what I decide you get.”

The constructs pressed harder, twisting in ways real flesh couldn’t. You swore you saw stars.