ohhh i’m obsessed w langdon sussing out reader to see if she’s into daddaughter….
him clocking ur notebook covered in sparkly stickers and your penchant for making friendship bracelets for the other nurses…
he keeps princess bandaids in his scrub pants just for u if you get a little papercut on the job… offers to fix up ur owies and teases that all it needs is a kiss to make it better… #wet
he sees your notebook decorated in stickers and your water bottle with a hello kitty keychain and in his head he’s like “i know what you are.”
when you stumble outside before your shift and scrape your hand on the pavement, peering at him with big teary eyes, he helps you up by grabbing under your elbows and lifting you back up. “uh oh, sweetheart. just a little fall. just a couple tears because that was scary, huh?” you don’t think anything of it when he talks to you this way. he’s a dad, this is probably just programmed into his brain. when he sits you down by the lockers to get a good look at your cut up hand, he’s cleaning it up while telling you how brave you are. he makes you choose between princess bandaids or unicorn, even though he could easily get tan bandaids from one of the nurse stations.
“can i have a sticker for being so brave?” you ask once he’s got you all cleaned up. OH ITS SO OVER FOR YOU TWO
𝙜𝙣!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙬 18+, he’s a bit unhinged, cock sucking, tiny blurb
he’s never been able to hold his feelings in. even before the ai in his body, before the fall, something in him always betrayed his inner emotions.
that’s why now, with his cock down your throat, he can’t pretend that it’s not driving him insane. emre can’t act like seeing your mouth stuffed full with his spit-soaked cock isn’t making his brain actively malfunction. hips bucking up, grunts escaping his mouth, a fist tightening in your hair — all of it involuntary. he has to actively fight the dark part of his mind telling him to just fuck your face already.
and god forbid when he cums down your throat. he genuinely might not let you up for air because he’s too caught up in the thrill of emptying his balls into you.
Your gala dress lies in a beautifully sequinned mauve heap on the floor. Light sparkles off the glittery fabric like it’s trying to flirt with you; Hitoshi’s shirt is crumpled in a pile just next to it- his suit jacket, your heels, his pants and your bra all lie scattered around the carpet. You’d usually think to be annoyed at the mess, although you’re preoccupied.
You don’t think at all, it’s almost like Hitoshi’s used his quirk on you- he’d never do that, and as such you have to chalk it up to the fact his cock is pounding into you relentlessly from behind, while you drool into a pillow. His pelvis is flush against yours with every thrust, driving you further forward up the mattress and rubbing your cheek against the pillow below.
“Hnngh.. Hit-oh!-shi..!” You whimper pitifully.
“Too much? Nah, you can take it, can’t you?” He pants against the shell of your ear, darting his tongue out to lick at the hollow cartilage.
You’re just considering how many orgasms it’ll take for you to pass out when Hitoshi’s hand makes contact with the side of your head that isn’t attached to a pillow. It’s not comforting or gentle; fingers entangle in your hair like ribbons and shove your face further down into the fabric. You moan wantonly, lips parting even further, and Hitoshi takes the opportunity to shove two fingers into your mouth while he fucks you dumb.
It doesn’t just feel like too much, it feels like everything- like Hitoshi is forcing breaths out of you like they’re his own; you’ve long since given up on gripping at the sheets-simply lying there, legs spread, eyes rolling back, lips parted around his fingers. You’re still drooling, a constant stream slicking its way down your face and soaking into the pillow below. Hitoshi doesn’t even need to hold your wrists down, you’ve long since gone stupidly cockdrunk and your arms lie useless above you.
“What’s wrong? Can’t even speak, can you- hah- just all stupid and pretty below me. Can you even remember your name, baby?”
You really can’t- you think it’s in there somewhere, packed layers and layers below the all consuming mush your brain has been conditioned into. It feels like limbo; you feel drunk on him, the way his big hand grips at your scalp and pulls you up, up, up until Hitoshi can lean around and nip your jaw, kissing affectionately before he lets you drop back into the pillow.
When he cums, you quake around him as the sensation sends you careening over the edge for the final time. He pulls out and leans back on his haunches to admire his handiwork- you look so incredibly dumb it almost makes him laugh, although he saves it for later; Hitoshi instead elects to thumb away the drool smeared over your face, brush your hair out of your eyes and press an affectionate kiss to your temple while your eyelids flutter closed.
Frankie pounding you so hard and deep that your trying to crawl away and wriggle back due to how overstimulated you are. Just for him to tighten his grip on your hips and yank you back on his cock, slamming so hard you're vision goes white and fuckinh you even harder
frank langdon bully of my dreams hands on your waist dragging you back on his cock when you try to run away all smirks and laughing eyes "where you going, princess? nah huh no running, your little pussy just forgot what she can take, I'll remind her." <3
langdon trying to convince you that he's not an addict by shoving your face into the pillows and fucking you until your thighs are shaking, and the only thing that holds you up in his hand on your hip while he mutters, "i'm not an addict; i swear, i'm not a fucking addict", endlessly. he almost decides not to let you cum until you repeat it back. "you're not an addict, baby," you whine, fluttering around his dick as you cum.
★ˎˊ˗ CONTENT 18+ MDNI daddy kink, addiction/recovery themes, impulsive relapse metaphor (trading vices), nurse!reader, afab!reader, p in v, unprotected sex, workplace sex
MASTERLIST | RULES | INBOX
Frank’s half listening to a “post-rehab integration” briefing (HR, risk-management, even a hospital lawyer into one oxygen-starved side room) when something buzzes under on table. He palms the phone below the folded sobriety metrics.
The screen glows with your text: Miss you, daddy.
His palms go slick, device nearly crashing to the linoleum.
In the three tentative months you’ve dated, you’ve flirted with him, teased him, even cursed at him, but that word has never made an appearance.
Hospital gossip had originally painted you as the goody-two-shoes nurse recruit hired on in his absence. Perfect chart audits, day-one competency sign-offs, the one who stayed late to feed a confused geriatric patient applesauce.
This significantly redraws the saintly portrait.
Frank swallows whatever’s left of the briefing room’s recycled air and slides his phone face-down, as if the glass might burn through the table.
A saint, he reminds himself, shouldn’t make his cock stir in his pants like this.
He tries, honestly fucking tries, to go back to risk-management’s droning about consent forms, but now every syllable buckles beneath the weight of that single word on the screen.
Daddy. Five letters have kicked open a door he’s held shut with both shoulders for twelve sober weeks.
His fingers tap out an answer under the table: Hallway by the ambulance bay. Five minutes. He deletes it. Types again. Still in committee. Behave. Deletes that, too.
God, get it together, Langdon. In the end all he manages is a neutral, Be there soon, before the meeting finally adjourns.
He finds you giggling at the nurses’ station printer. The sight hits him like an adrenaline push. One purposeful stride, a curl of his fingers around your wrist, and he’s steering you past the Pyxis before anyone can notice.
The supply-closet door hasn’t even thunk shut before Frank’s got your spun, spine pressed to cool metal shelving, betadine bottles rattling.
“You again?” you stage-whisper as his fingers walk the hem of your top north. “This hospital really ought to tighten security.”
“Tried.” Frank’s mouth finds the hinge of your jaw, words vibrating against skin as his other hand moves to tug the drawstring of your scrub bottoms loose. “Seems like your day’s been… productive.”
“Mh-hmm. Pulled a double, saved three veins, I’m kind of a big deal,” you taunt, teeth pulling your bottom lip as you flutter your lashes at him. “Just missed seeing my favorite hot doctor on the floor.”
“Overachiever.” He smirks while one hand skims beneath the waistband, knuckles skating your skin, itching to feel how wet you are; the other fumbles his own pants with impatient passes. “He sounds like a lucky guy to get such attention from a pretty girl like you.”
Once he has you both free, he wastes no time sinking his cunt in aching inches, forehead to yours, breath hitching at every squeeze of silk-slick muscle. You’re just as soaking as he knew you’d be. So perfect just for him.
“Fuck — Frankie,” you gasp, toes skidding on the tile.
“Try again. Wanna hear this newfound vocabulary of yours.” He bottoms out, hips snug to yours, and waits.
The shelf behind you rings with the tremor in your back. “Daddy.”
“That’s better.” His hand cups the back of your skull, holding you still while he drives the word deeper, each thrust into your soft wet heat a dark punctuation. “Say it like you mean it, baby.”
“Missed you, daddy — oh God — missed you all day.”
Trading vices, his counselor had warned. Once upon a time he had been considered a star pupil. Now he knows exactly how far off the wagon he’s fallen.
MARIA NOTE agreed. agreed so heavily that i needed to write about it <3
YOU CAN FIND MY FRANK LANGDON MASTERLIST HERE ⭑.ᐟ
and let me love you anyway @esoterictulips - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
