Dennis finds Frank before he relapses, shaking after the loss of a child who looks too much like Penny, still wearing the same shoes Frank had bought Penny three days before. Dennis still is weary when it comes to Frank, but seeing him curled up like that, shaking, while trying to dissociate from everyhing, as the cravings start to win Dennis knows he can't leave him alone.
He takes Frank home, not to his apartment with Trinity, but to Robby's, not knowing Frank's address and not wanting to get that close. He and Frank don't talk, Frank shuts down, and Dennis is too tired to pretend. He forces Frank to eat, and Frank is gone before Dennis wakes up in the morning. He's prepared for the taller man to ignore him, but the small little "thank you for taking care of me," barely above a whisper given by Frank, stopping his walk by Dennis just long enough to say it, is a surprise.
It ignites something in Dennis, he doesn't know is burning. Dennis doesn't think anything of it until he hears a patient unleash on Frank, raising their voice and using harsh words over something Frank can't control. He steps in with a calm and firm voice and leads Frank away as Ahmed takes care of the rest. Frank is quiet and withdrawn for most of the shift, and Dennis can't help but watch him. Frank once again thanks him for stepping in, for taking care of him, and the fire burns a little more.
It starts to become a habit over the next couple of months, keeping an eye on Frank, learning to read the man, until he can't stop. Can't stop watching, needing to take care of Frank, encouraging Frank to come to him, to let him be the one to take care of him.
Frank is shy and hesitant at first, worried about how it may look or fear of growing dependent, Dennis shows him the protection Robby never did. The breaking point comes when Robby comes back, and Frank starts to pull back from Dennis. He doesn't go back to Robby's side, giving the man a wide berth, with a mix of regret and aprehension about how the man will react, but he pulls away from Dennis as well in response. Robby doing his best to bring Dennis back to his side.
His golden boy, Frank's replacement.
Dennis hates that Frank seems to be out of his reach, keeping him from Dennis. The small fire grows until it consumes him. It's only when he overhears Robby telling Frank he can still come to him, that Dennis snaps, pulling Frank into an empty room, with firm hands and possessive determination.
Frank is his to take care of, the only one Frank should be coming to.
Frank is his.
And he will never be tired of reminding the surprisingly delicate and fragile man that.
Please, this is the first time I write here. Just to say that some people don't understand how hot Frank Dilf bottom is. I mean, puppy sets and all. The current era of Frank being bottom is too hot for people not to realize. It makes me really want to grab his thighs or his boobs, really...
NO YEAH people always want dilf frank to top them but girl im gonna top that dilf
Pairing: Frank x [enby, afab] Reader
Word count: ~ 2 300
Genre: Smut / Fluff
Summary: It's a boring day after coming back home from a tour and (y/n) decides to ask Frank if they can peg him - Frank accepts, thinking it's nothing much, just to find out he's so wrong.
Kind of content: Reader is very loving <3 / Dirty talk / Praising / Pegging / Subspace
Requested by anon
Being home after so long feels weird, even if it’s far from the first tour we have been on since the start of the band, feeling like in a bus when sitting down for too long or having this feeling something is missing by the time we were supposed to head back to the bus. Sometimes I remember the first times we would come back time from the Bullets and Revenge tours, all tired and like trash, but motivated to write new music.
We’re probably having a longer pause now, on the other hand, considering how long The Black Parade Tour was, just to rest and let things settle down for a bit until the oncoming tour with Linkin Park.
A sigh escapes my lips as I look around the kitchen, hands on my hips. I should do something. Maybe eat something. Fuck, no, I just ate something. Okay, I guess I should practice, then… but that’s not what the pause is supposed to be for. Distracting myself will do, I guess, so watching TV it is.
Sitting down on the couch and turning on the TV makes me feel useless at first, but again, it’s the result of being pulled away from the tour’s routine. Even if slowly, it’ll pass.
My attention averts away from the TV’s screen at hearing footsteps before Frank’s walking into the kitchen, only in a shirt and boxers, standing on his tiptoes as digging through the cabinets in search for something. His shirt falls a few inches below his hips, but rides up with him reaching the cabinets, exposing his ass. Nice ass.
He turns around with Oreos in hands, and raises an eyebrow at me. “Want one?” he asks through the Oreo hanging from his mouth.
“No, but come here.” I make a motion, adjusting my position on the couch – he shrugs, but does so anyway, taking the bag of cookies in hand, and he’s about to sit down by my side when I pull him to my lap instead. He pauses, slowly relaxing against me, eventually continuing to eat; he holds up an Oreo, a bitten one, eyes averting down. I smile. “No, thanks.” I press a kiss to his cheek, hugging him close.
A hum comes from Frank in response and he sighs softly, shifting lightly to make himself comfortable until his head is resting against my shoulder. “What are you watching?”
“I literally just sat down.” My hand slides down to his thigh, my thumb running across the skin and tracing the tattoo there. “Y’know,” I mutter in his ear, tightening my grip around him, “I think we could do something.”
“Something?” Frank asks, sounding halfly immersed in whatever is playing on the TV.
“Yeah.” I take a hold of his jaw, making him face me – he pouts, which makes me smile, brushing our noses together affectionately. “I was wondering if I could peg you. Can I?”
“Fuck, yeah,” he says after a moment, “let’s go.”
Now, that was easy. I raise an eyebrow at him, he just shrugs. Does he– Well, of course he does know what pegging means, he’s not that dumb, I just didn’t know he would react so careless to it. Not bad, so everything is fine.
“Good.” I peck his lips and trail down to his jaw, eventually reaching his neck when he tilts his head to the side, sighing pleased, just to let out a quiet gasp once my teeth sink into a spot a few inches under his ear. Great. “Go upstairs, then.” I slap his thigh softly, chuckling at the groan coming from him.
Frank stands up and heads to the kitchen to leave the rest of the Oreos on the counter before he can go upstairs, but not without looking back at me with a glare – seeing that I’m still smiling maybe gets him more annoyed, continuing his way with heavy and low steps. Okay, gives me more time to watch the back of his thighs.
I’m finally heading upstairs after turning the TV off and putting the Oreos back inside the cabinet, walking into the bedroom to find Frank kneeling down in the middle of the bed, looking at the nothing, hands over his thighs.
The way he accepted it so easily is still in my mind when my shirt meets the ground, but whatever, not like we can’t stop at any moment or anything.
The mattress sinks under my knees as I move towards Frank until settling down, hands cupping his face before our lips are pressed together in a sweet kiss that quickly gains a familiar urgency, with Frank’s hands wrapped around my wrists, pulling me closer to deepen the kiss, eventually pulling me over him. Our lips separate for only seconds among all the shifting, adjusting our positions until Frank’s on his back and I’m over him, a forearm on the mattress to hold myself up, a knee between his spread legs.
“Hm, (y/n),” he mutters against my lips, hands on the sides of my neck, trailing to my hair.
“‘M here, baby.” My lips run along his jaw, soon pressing soft kisses down his neck, peppered in between nibbles and sucking which have his breath quickening, shallow.
My hands drop to Frank’s waist, slipping under his shirt, rubbing circles into the skin. A shaky breath escapes his nose when I reach a spot near his collarbones and he’s tugging on my hair, unable to contain a sound when my thumbs poke under the waistband of his boxers.
Frank’s grasp almost doesn’t let me pull away, only doing so when he notices my intention of getting rid of his shirt, followed by his boxers, revealing his half hard cock, but he seems to have other priorities, pushing his hips up into the air in a useless seek for friction. A grin tugs on my lips at it and I can’t help but to take a grip of his hips, leaving a kiss down his happy trail.
Despite a groan of frustration coming from Frank, I still pull away to get rid of my own clothes, keeping an eye on him to swat his hand away just in time so he won’t touch himself.
“Fuck you!” Frank pouts.
“Behave!” I chuckle, slapping his thigh – he lets out what sounds like a moan at it, jumping.
I can’t really make out Frank’s words, incoherent grumbling; they immediately stop when I’m sitting between his legs with the lube in hand after reaching for it in the bedside table.
“You fine?” I put the tube away to spread the lube on my fingers.
“Of course!” He nods exigently, squirmish.
“Aw, you’re not being a good boy!” I furrow my eyebrows and need to suppress a smile at how quickly Frank’s cheeks turn red as he looks away, what seems like pure frustration being opposed by how hard he’s getting through time. “Just tell me if you need me to stop or something, okay?” I drop the teasing, pressing a kiss to his stomach, and can feel him physically relaxing.
“Right,” he breathes.
His hole flutters under my touch as I trace the ring of muscles, spreading the lube around it before finally pushing a finger in, slowly – he tenses up, clenching around me, but a sound is only slipping past his lips when there’s a second finger and, after a few pushes, finding his prostate is easy.
A breath hitches in Frank’s throat, making a muffled moan come from him once my fingers start pressing against his prostate, massaging the spot; his thighs quiver in poor attempts of moving his hips down against my fingers, coming to a brief stop with a third finger.
“Fuck,” he says, voice tight, but only nods when I look up to check if he’s fine.
My free hand runs up Frank’s torso, running along the skin and feeling it rise under my touch. He moans encouragingly as I start pressing kisses to his tummy, slowly going up his chest and he’s gasping when my thumb runs across his nipple experimentally, hands flying to hold onto my hair, compelling me to continue fondling it and the skin around.
“How does it feel?” I ask against his chest, mostly pressing kisses down to it. He moans in response, in a positive tone. “Use your words, hun.”
“G-Good,” he gasps, tugging at my hair softly.
“Oh, yeah? How good?” I grin, pressing down against his prostate and feeling him quiver as his hips jerk forward. “Are you my good boy, Frank? So small and pretty and cute? Look at how pathetic you are, baby. I didn’t even touch your cock, only fingered your pretty ass so far and you’re already in such a poor state.”
“I– Yeah, I am, fuck– You make me feel very good, oh my God,” he exclaims, voice unusually high. “You make me feel so good, (y/n), please don’t stop, I– Fuck.” He melts. Moans easily fill the room now, not so frequent but loud, constant, coming to an end with a weak complaint and buck of hips after I break contact completely, considering Frank was becoming dangerously tight and urgent.
“Hands and knees, hm?” I press a kiss to his thigh before breaking complete contact to reach for the box under the bed.
“Gimme a moment,” Frank sighs.
“‘M not rushing you,” I chuckle, rummaging through the box and eventually moving to slip on the strap-on and have the toy lubed up.
Something about all of this, making Frank get in such a state, having such a power, is just… amusing, in a way, and maybe I had been wasting my time and should've had this idea before. A squeal comes from him at the slap across the back of his thigh, intensifying the proud feeling in my chest as I kneel behind him, holding his hips up.
“So pretty and all mine, hm?” I mutter against the crook of his neck, my chest pressed to his back. The words are far from something I’d usually say, nonetheless, they snatch a quiet pleading sound from Frank and he doesn’t even answer properly when I ask if he’s ready. “Are you in subspace, love?” Now, what a pleasant surprise.
No answer comes from Frank and I don’t need one, after all – he doesn’t show any discomfort nor says the safe word –, so I carry on. His breath audibly hitches when I’m guiding the toy in, tensing up, so I give him his time, free arm wrapped around his torso and kisses softly pressed to his back among comforting words. When the toy finally sinks in until the base, he’s breathing heavily, head hanging low and hands clenched around the sheets.
“You’re doing so well, hun,” I hum and let my hands wander up and down his waist, soothing and trying to avert his attention away from whatever discomfort.
As a relieved sigh comes from Frank, I grip onto his hips, pulling back before pushing back in and Frank’s moans slowly start to cut through the thick atmosphere of the room with the continuous motions. The way the movements intensify eventually have the toy brushing against me, against my clit, just right to give me the friction I wasn’t even aware that I craved.
“Fuck,” Frank says with a moan, arching his back, quickly followed by a louder moan when I change the angle of the thrusts; his hips move to meet mine. There it is, then, good.
My fingers sink into Frank’s hips for more support, pulling him against me at the same time my hips jerk forward. Fucking whines come from Frank, one after the other, weak cries as his arms collapse under him and he squirms on the mattress and, fuck, how hot can he be?
“Ah,” he breathes, eyes pressed shut, “shit, that’s intense, fuck.”
Not what he thought? No wonder why he accepted so easily. I chuckle – or try to, breathlessly.
“You look so hot like this, baby,” I mutter, one of my hands falling to a space on the mattress next to him. “Didn’t know I could break you like this, huh? ‘Bet you wish I had come up with this before, don’t you? Look at you, you’re loving this!” I grin at how hopeless he becomes, knuckles white around the sheets, gasps escaping his mouths helplessly; I press a kiss to his shoulder. “‘Bet you can’t even think straight right now.” Because, fuck, I can’t. So hot. I might just come from that.
Frank’s lips are pressed together, twitching lightly, but no word ever comes from him. Instead, one of his hands slowly moves down and I slap it away the moment I notice what he wants to do.
“No, no, no!” I click my tongue, taking a hold of his wrist to pin it down to the mattress. “You can come without touching yourself, just like the good boy you are. Are you close, baby? You almost coming?” I press kisses to his shoulder, satisfied with the affirmative hum coming from him. “Gonna make you feel so good,” I mutter under my breath, moving faster, the thrusts heavy and harsher – sending pleasure ringing up my spine –, in a way it doesn’t take long until a loud moan escapes his lips and his thighs are quivering. I take a look at his face, taking in every detail, and I can feel the knot tightening in my lower stomach.
Frank’s eventually coming down from his high with weak sounds and labored breathing, legs twitching lightly with the aftershocks.
Quiet curses escape my lips under my breath while I pull away, watching him collapse to the mattress without much reaction, and get rid of the toy as fast as possible and fucking hell, I barely touch myself before I’m coming, moaning in relief with my fingers sliding against my clit. So pathetic and so good at the same time.
I lie down on the bed next to Frank, pulling into my arms to hug him lovingly, brushing the hair away from his face. He hums softly, eyes slowly opening to reveal the beautiful hazel irises as thin rings around dilated pupils for a moment. Frank says nothing, only burying his face in the crook of my neck.
