flare up | f. langdon
divider source || crossposted on ao3 || series pairing: frank langdon x chronically ill! reader warnings: fluff, smut, porn w plot, cunnilingus, p in v smut, protected sex, migraines, chronic illness, afab reader, gender neutral!reader, chronic illness!reader, gn pronouns, post-rehab!divorced!frank langdon, no use of y/n, use of 'babe', 'sweetheart', and 'honey', frank & reader have a cat, probably more dialog than necessary but i love these two, reader is described to have breasts & a vag, frank langdon is a MUNCH, frankie nickname supremacy, reader gets emotional during sex, doctor kink but VERY briefly, tender comfort sex, frank is down bad and reader is somehow WORSE word count: 7.6k summary: Reader is stuck in bed with a migraine and Frank simply cannot stand to see it. He's still in his scrubs, so might as well play doctor just a little bit longer. a/n: fun fact I actually started writing this before clap of thunder but then got hyperfocused on that idea and took off with it! this does take place before that work but you don't need to read them in any specific order to understand the plot or dynamic between reader & Frank.
Frank was well acquainted with migraines.
Between the stress of the ER on a particularly bad day to having two toddlers that have been refusing bed time on his weekends with them, he was no stranger to the throbbing pain that set in deep within the skull, making every nerve and vein feel like it was about to explode.
But that still didn’t make it feel any easier seeing you with one.
He comes home from his shift, feet sore and shoulders slumped. It wasn’t even necessarily a bad day- nothing worse than the usual chaos of a shift in the Pitt- but the exhaustion had started to settle into his bones. What he is immediately a bit confused about is how silent the apartment is.
All of the lights are almost completely off- save for the one above the stove so it isn’t completely dark.
Usually you were tucked under a blanket on the couch, quietly reading or watching a movie or working on one of the numerous craft hobbies you’ve taken up. But tonight your shared apartment is still.
His backpack is plopped onto the couch before Frank makes his way down the hallway to the bedroom. The room is even darker than the rest of the apartment—black-out curtains drawn tightly over the windows to block out any trace of light. The AC was practically blasting, making the room feel almost as frigid as Pittsburgh air in early January.
His voice calls your name softly, just loud enough for you to hear without startling.
The brief moment of silence between you is only interrupted by a small “mrrp?” and soft purrs.
Teddy- the brown tabby cat that Frank swore up and down he did not want- cuddled in closely against your body. You’d worn him down easily after a couple weeks, between pleading with the biggest eyes you could, promises that you’d be ready to solely take care of everything, and reassurances that a furry companion was what you needed when he returned to work.
And now here you two were, spending your nights maneuvering in bed around the bundle of fur that demands to sleep between both your warm bodies. Despite how much Frank complained about his scrubs always having cat fur stuck to them no matter how much they were washed and lint rolled, he truly had come to love the little devil.
“Babe,” Frank breathes. He’s already carefully moving towards the bed before you even respond. Arms outstretched as he maneuvers through the room, the dim light from the kitchen down the hall seeping in to give him just enough of a hint as to where he’s going.
You’re lying flat on your back, ice packs on both the nape of your neck and the top half of your face. Hair fanned out onto the pillow beneath your head, one arm curled over Teddy’s body and the other adjusting the blankets over yourself.
There’s a dip in the bed next to you as he lets out a soft sigh. Frank already knew what was wrong without having to even ask.
His right hand gently rests over one of yours while his thumb brushes over the knuckles. “Take your meds?” His voice is barely above a whisper.
You hum a noise of agreement, head aching too much to nod.
Frank can tell that this is one of the worse ones, and he hopes you’ve caught it early. Migraines weren’t anything new to you- it was a fact he’d learned early on into your relationship when you had to cancel a date night due to not being able to even look at your phone without your head throbbing.
He had never once held it over you. Even if he wasn’t a doctor, he couldn’t imagine making you feel worse for something that you couldn’t control.
You feel him shift and his left hand reaches out to press against your cheek. The back of his palm rests there for a few moments. Your skin was still warm to the touch despite the large gel ice pack. “How long since it started?”
You suck in a deep breath and swallow hard. “Two hours,” you murmur. “Took my meds a little afterwards.”
Frank nods again, his doctor-mind already working through possible treatments you haven’t tried despite being off the clock at work.
As if you can feel him getting lost in his thoughts, your hand reaches up to squeeze his fingers. “Been drinking electrolytes?”
“Yeah,” you croak out. “And ate some crackers.”
Teddy shifts with another curious noise, his little body standing up and stretching before he paws at Frank’s free hand.
He lets out a small chuckle and reaches out to pet your furry companion. “Nurse Teddy taking care of you?”
“As much as he can,” you crack a small smile. “Hasn’t left my side since I started feeling off.”
“Maybe I should take Mel’s suggestion and train him to be a migraine-alert animal.”
Your breath catches at the idea, smile only widening. “But then you can’t keep teasing him for being a freeloader.”
“Well it’s not like he’ll be helping to pay the bills.”
“Okay,” you breathe out a soft chuckle. “Fair point.”
Frank shifts on the bed before running a comforting hand across your arm. “Need anything from me?”
“Change my ice packs out?”
“‘Course, sweetheart.” He leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek before standing, both warm gel packs in his left hand.
Teddy trots out into the kitchen behind him, tail high as he chirps.
You can hear him laugh as Teddy continues to chatter up at him, followed by the sound of the fridge opening and light smacks of a spoon against a ceramic dish.
Frank is back in the bedroom a few moments later and helps press the fresh gel packs in the spots that you usually needed them.
You sigh in relief at the chill against your flaming skin. “Thank you, honey.”
“You never have to thank me, babe.”
“Not gonna stop me from saying it.”
Frank simply chuckles and scoots closer to you on the bed, propping himself up on the pillow by his elbow as he reaches over to cup your cheek. His thumb is cool against your skin as it moves soothingly back and forth, the tension in your shoulders instinctively easing.
“There’s leftovers from last night still in the fridge,” you mumble. “I know you’re hungry.”
Frank hums. “I am hungry, you’re not wrong.” His hand slowly moves down to the side of your neck, cupping the skin softly. He can feel your pulse pick up. “Though I’m in the mood for something else.”
“Frankie..” Your voice trails off, breath catching as he presses a feather-light kiss to your jaw. You’re not sure if it’s a warning or a plea.
“Orgasms can relieve pain,” he smiles against your skin. “They target the same areas of the brain as pain receptors. Releases endorphins, serotonin, and dopamine.” His lips trail down your jaw and the side of your neck before stopping directly over your pulse. “Better than IV morphine.”
This wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned sex as a treatment for your attacks. The first time was more of an off-handed suggestion than a serious offer. You’d turned it down only because of the fact that your neck was so stiff you could barely move your head. But the more your relationship went on, and the more you’d gotten desperate for relief on particularly bad days, the more he had proposed it like he was going over treatment plans with a patient at work.
The two of you weren’t strangers to sex, not by a long shot. Frank had two kids and is incredibly attractive- especially when he was back in med school. He was well acquainted with pleasing others.
But between the two of you being absolutely worn out from work the past two weeks and the daily gamble of how many spoons you’d have each day, it had been a while since you were intimate.
And it was fine with both of you, truly! Ever since you officially put a label on things shortly before he finished rehab it had been abundantly clear that sex was never something you’d pressure each other into. Consent mattered more to you than anything, and Frank respected the hell out of it. The last thing he’d want to do is betray your trust or risk causing a flare up.
But he also didn’t treat you like broken glass. He checked in, asked what you wanted, encouraged you to suggest things you were curious about. You were an equal. His partner. Better half. It breathed fresh air into your lungs that you were more than your diagnosis to him, but he never tried to diminish it when the pain had you bedridden.
“You can’t be serious,” you huff, though your tone is clearly lighthearted. “This is your professional medical opinion?”
“One hundred and ten percent serious, sweetheart,” he grins.
You lie still for just a moment, thinking it over. You know that he wouldn’t have suggested it if there wasn’t a good chance it might actually work.
“Okay.”
He pulls back from you to look down at you. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Voice a little louder, more certain. “I.. wanna try it. If there’s a chance it might help.”
His voice is more serious when he speaks again- how you’d imagine he talks to triage patients getting patched up for minor injuries. “If anything feels wrong at all, no matter what it is, tell me- okay?”
“I will,” you breathe, nodding just a bit. “Promise.”
He smiles approvingly- despite knowing you can’t see anything from the gel pack blindfolding your vision.
Frank leans back in against you, pressing slow kisses down your throat.
You can feel him smile when your breath catches, skin flushing from more than just the migraine.
A hand slips under the blanket, fingers grazing the hem of your shirt. The touch is soft, slow, teasing.
You let out a shaky breath as his warm digits slip under the worn material- one of Frank’s old shirts that was stretched from years of laundry cycles.
Despite the flush to the entire upper half of your body from the migraine, goosebumps spread across your stomach under his touch.
Frank’s smile only widens as he hums against your neck. The vibration has you shivering- the feeling hitting every nerve in your body at once.
“Frankie,” you breathe.
“Just relax for me, sweetheart.”
Your lips part, an unsteady exhale leaving them. His hand slips higher up your torso, teasing fingers ghosting over the skin just below your breast.
The blankets move around you. The soft plush of the comforter pushed down to your thighs, the shirt on your body tugged up over the swell of your chest. The chill of the blasting AC instantly curls around your skin. Nipples stiffened to firm peaks.
Frank wastes no time in cupping the weight of your chest in his right hand. His thumb swipes across the swollen bud, earning a whimper from your lips.
He presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to your pulse point, right hand still massaging the plump flesh in his grasp while the left bunches the shirt atop your clavicle. The sight of your bare chest is truly one of his favorite sights.
Frank couldn’t stop himself from leaning in even if he tried.
The moment his lips encase the hardened bud of your nipple you feel your brain short circuit. The deep throbbing of pain is momentarily alleviated as he suckles. Soft laps of his tongue against the sensitive nerves make your back arch up into him.
Another whimper of his name has his cock twitching in his pants.
But right now isn’t about him. This was for you.
The moment his fingers hook under the waistband of your shorts- another pair of his boxers that you have stolen to sleep in- you’re practically shaking for him.
Frank was a master of your body. He knew every movement, every spot to place his lips, every curve to trail his hands over to get you worked up for him.
“Frankieeee.. please,” you whimper, voice a pathetic whine for him.
He releases your breast with a wet ‘pop!’ and smiles. In the midst of your fidgeting against his mouth, the melting gel pack had slipped off your eyes and exposed your vision to the low light of the bedroom.
Those piercing blue eyes you’d come to adore are dark, pupils blown wide as he finds your half-lidded gaze.
“I know, baby, I know,” he shushes. His left hand cups your waist, thumb soothingly rubbing circles into the skin. “Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart. Just gotta be a little more patient for me.”
The noise you make is somewhere between a huff and a whine, the pain in your head still pulsing as your need for him grows.
After a few more kisses trailed down your stomach Frank finally starts to tug the boxers down your legs.
He doesn’t try to hide the smirk on his lips when he sees you below him, chest exposed and rising rapidly and the soft blue of your underwear starting to darken over your core.
Even with the migraine encapsulating your brain you were still weak for him.
His hands grasp your hips, gently pulling your legs apart for a better look. The royal blue fabric was soft under his grasp. The dark blue splotch was only growing as he took you in.
You quietly groan when he licks his lips.
“So needy for me already?" He hums, words vibrating against your stomach as he presses another kiss to the soft flesh.
“No teasing,” you whimper. “Please.”
In any other instance Frank would just smirk and choose to ignore your words. It was just too much fun to see you squirming and begging underneath him.
But he knew you were in pain, and he was doing this to help relieve your migraine, so for just this once he shuts up and listens to your request.
“Since you asked so nicely.”
You can hear the smile in his words, a relieved little breath leaving you as his hands move to peel back your ruined underwear. It’s quickly tossed onto the floor behind him, and you are suddenly very aware of just how cold it is in the room.
Goosebumps follow the path of his hands from your waist down to your hips as he pulls them apart.
But for a moment he just stares, taking in the sight of your soaked folds glistening in the low light around you. His mouth waters, throat bobbing as he swallows hard.
Those pretty blue eyes meet yours for one more glance before he finally leans in.
A soft kiss to your folds- his lips barely pressing against them at first before he moves firmer against you. The strangled sound stuck in your throat is all the encouragement he needs.
He moans at the first taste of you. The sweet tang was better than anything else on Earth, he was positive. In that moment he definitively decided that he could spend the rest of his life right there between your legs and it still wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.
Frank’s hands slip down your thighs to grasp your knees, bending them softly to give him more room on the mattress. His lips stay on your folds, practically making out with your aching cunt as he presses his face further against you. His nose bumps against your clit and you mewl, right hand flying up to find purchase in his hair.
Fingers curl through the dark strands, giving them a soft tug as he licks a hot stripe from your weeping hole up to the bundle of nerves. Eyes flutter closed, a gasping breath of his name leaving your lips as you instinctively push his face further against your core.
Frank chuckles softly at your reaction and the vibrations pull a moan from your lips. It’s already so good, but you need more.
“Frankie,” you whimper. He tilts his head up to meet your gaze, mouth still connected with your folds. “Need.. more. Please.”
There were two things Frank loved about sex with you- the way you tasted and how vocal you were. And when he teased you? Got a little bossy? Made you beg for it? You’ve definitely woken up once or twice with a hoarse voice from how he bent you in half and had you crying from overstimulation. But he had already decided that wasn’t going to be the plan for tonight. He was taking care of you first and foremost.
While still holding your face his right hand moves from your hip, calloused fingers trailing over the softness of your inner thigh until they find your core.
“Like this?”
His voice is low, heated, the familiar way that is only reserved for intimate moments like this. Frank’s middle and ring fingers ghost over your core and you jolt ever-so-slightly. Hips instinctively lifting off the mattress to chase his touch.
You hum a shaky ‘mhm’ as he presses you back against the sheets and guides you to take a deep breath. “Honey, please.” You’re beyond caring about how pathetically needy you sound. All you want at this moment is him.
Before you can open your mouth to protest–to beg him once again that he was the one that suggested this and got you worked up in the first place–his fingers are rubbing along your soaked folds to collect your slick. Once his digits are glistening he gently prods your entrance with his middle finger.
Your breath hitches from the intrusion. On instinct your pelvic and core muscles tense and Frank knows to take a pause. Your health issues made it so that sex wasn’t always as comfortable as you wished it was, and you’d grown accustomed to ‘bracing for impact’ each time just in case you’d have to tap out. But your loving boyfriend was always willing to take things as slow as you needed. He never wants you in pain, and especially not when he is supposed to be bringing you pleasure.
It might just be the most attractive thing about him.
Soft lips press kisses to your inner thigh, left hand rubbing grounding circles just above your knee. “Breathe for me, sweetheart. It’s okay.”
You focus on his voice as he guides you through taking a few deep breaths and your body starts to relax underneath him.
“We don’t have to keep going-”
You momentarily forget about the pain pressing against your skull and instinctively shake your head, automatically whincing from the movement. “No,” you breathe. “I want this, I really fucking do. I just.. need a second. ‘M sorry.”
He gently shushes you before you can start falling into a spiral of negativity. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, baby. We’ll go at your pace.”
No matter how intense the heat of the moment was, things always moved at your pace.
Frank’s left hand continues rubbing gentle shapes into your thigh while gradually moving up towards your hip. He coos soft words of comfort as he goes, pressing kisses to your flushed skin along the way.
You’re okay, baby. Take all the time you need. I’m right here.
You continue breathing deeply, focusing on how he’s so gentle with you despite the lust blanketing the room.
Only when he feels you fully relax does he keep going.
Your hips jolt up into him when you feel his lips press a kiss to your clit. It feels like a bolt of electricity hits you perfectly, pleasure blooming across your body as you let out an airy groan.
He continues worshiping your folds with kisses that switch between small pecks and wet, open-mouthed smooches. The pleasure helps to outweigh the small prick of pain when his finger finds your entrance once again.
His eyes are solely on your face as he slowly pushes into your weeping hole. Beautiful blue eyes take in every inch of your expression, watching the way your breath hitches and your lips part open.
Frank moves his hand almost agonizingly slow to let you get used to the intrusion. Despite how sopping wet you were, he still takes his time, letting you adjust as much as you need.
By the time he’s knuckle deep you’re panting. The hand on his shoulder is tightly gripping his scrub top, chest heaving, hips squirming ever so slightly. Your walls have adjusted to the intrusion and you need more.
He knows, he always knows. You don’t even need to form the words because he’s already starting to move his hand. The feeling of his digit moving between your aching walls forces a soft moan from your lips and he grins against your clit.
“Fuck, Frankie,” you breathe.
He licks another stripe up your folds, making your back lift off the bed as you cry out in pleasure. “Enjoying yourself?”
If there’s one thing Frank loved to do during sex it was to be snarky and tease. He adored being able to get you worked up and desperate for him, showing first-hand how he was the only one who could bring you this kind of pleasure.
“God, yes,” your voice shoots up an octave as you whine. “Feels s’good.”
He chuckles, the sound deep as he leans back into your core. His hand has increased its pace as he rocks the firm digit into your cunt. Each thrust is announced with a filthy wet noise- and he feels his already aching cock pulse between his legs.
In a moment he’s adding a second finger to your walls. The same routine of being slow, letting you adjust, checking to make sure you’re okay. This time goes much easier. You’re already worked up, already aching for him, brain starting to blur the lines between the pain from the migraine and the pleasure he’s giving you.
The stretch is toe-curling, your eyelashes fluttering as he works up to the same pace as before.
Kitten licks to your clit have you whimpering and whining. His fingers pump into you rhythmically, his eyes still watching you as you try to hold his gaze. The sight of him feasting on your core was one you never wanted to miss.
The moment his lips capture the swollen bundle of nerves you cry out in bliss, but he doesn’t stop. He sucks the bud into his mouth, fingers in your walls picking up their pace until your hand on his shoulder grabs his hair once again and tugs him even closer against your core.
Your legs shake, thighs instinctively try to close around his head as he continues his assault on your core. Frank’s left arm firmly pins your leg back against the bed, his forearm resting across your lower abdomen to keep you in place.
“Stay.”
The word is a rumble against your core and all you can do is mewl pathetically between the moans you’re already letting spill freely.
Neighbors be fucking damned. You don’t give two shits about how loud you are when he’s devouring you.
You’re so lost in pleasure your brain can’t even fully process how his mouth is moving against you. Tongue and lips lapping and sucking your drenched folds like a melting popsicle on a hot summer day. The tip of the strong muscle flicks your swollen bud and you practically cry out, back arching off the bed into him.
“Frank!” You nearly scream, left hand grabbing at him as he works you closer and closer. “Fuck, don’t stop, I- shit, ‘m close.”
“Cum for me, baby,” he moans against your folds.
Through the haze of your pleasure you notice the way his hips are rocking into the crumbled sheets beneath him, his cock no doubt rock hard and weeping as he times his rutting with the thrust of his wrist.
You’re right there, teetering on the edge, every nerve in your body feeling like a rubber band about to snap.
The pain is forgotten as you float through a cloud of pleasure. His mouth doesn’t let up, fingers thrusting deeper, harder, finding that spot deep inside that has your back lifting off the bed.
You’re nearly in tears when you fall over the edge.
Walls tighten around his fingers, pulsing and squeezing as he helps you ride out your orgasm. His name is a prayer on your lips, toes curling as you pull his hair at the roots.
You can hear the pornographic sound of your wetness, each move of his wrist punctuated by a wet sound that has only gotten louder as your release starts to leak out around his digits.
His dark strands slip from your fingers as you loosen your grip to push his head away. The overstimulation is starting to border on too much as he laps up the mess starting to trickle down your inner thighs.
Frank slowly slips his fingers out of you, going slow and flitting his gaze up to your face when you gasp and whine from the loss. You already look much more relaxed.
“Absolutely perfect,” he hums. You can’t help but smile as you pant.
His already glistening fingers swipe over your entrance to gather the bead of cum about to roll down your skin and your eyes open just in time to see him lick them clean.
The sight is obscene- and yet the most attractive thing you’ve ever experienced.
“Sweetest pussy in existence.”
Your cheeks burn but no longer from the pain. Despite the fact that he was just devouring you like a man being starved, your brain still doesn’t know what to do with the way he praises you in bed. If you weren’t already melted into the bed like a puddle of pudding you’re sure you’d be begging for him.
A breathy laugh escapes your lips and his grin spreads. “I guess that means the treatment was successful?”
“Mhm,” you hum, giving him a small nod. There was still a dull ache at the base of your skull, but it was significantly better than before. Nothing worse than the base-level of pain you were unfortunately used to having.
You manage to lift an arm up to reach for him, hands opening and closing in a grabby motion that was downright needy. But you didn’t care and he loved it.
With a chuckle he obeys and moves from where he was sat back on his calves and leans over you.
You groan softly at the taste of yourself on his lips and he instinctively presses his hips against you. It’s now that you notice the damp spot in his pants pressing right above your core. Just wet enough to be a sign of his generous precum.
You slip a hand over his abs and let your fingers ghost down his torso. Frank shudders as he pulls back from the kiss. “I think you enjoyed that more than me,” you tease softly.
You knew he got off on your pleasure. From the start of your relationship it was clear he’d spend all the time in the world making you feel good without even a single thought about himself.
“Maybe,” he murmurs. “Just happy I could make my favorite patient feel better.”
You don’t even try to hide the smirk that pulls at your lips. “I thought doctors weren’t supposed to pick favorites? Something about a bias?”
“I’m off the clock,” Frank defends between a few more kisses.
Your hand on his abs slides down to the front of his scrub bottoms, fingers grazing over his painfully hard erection.
He shivers at the touch.
“Sweetheart, we don’t have to.”
“But what if I want to properly thank my doctor for taking such good care of me?” You bat your lashes and let your voice drop into the husky tone that drives him crazy. He twitches against your hand.
Frank gulps in a desperate attempt to figure out his words. “God, you’re going to kill me.” His voice is strangled when he finds it.
Your free hand reaches up to his face, thumb swiping over the glistening wetness still coating his chin. He watches intently as you slip the digit between your lips, cheeks hollowing while you suck it clean.
His gaze never leaves your lips, the pupils blown so wide that his eyes look completely black with lust. The sight of you popping the plump finger out of your mouth, pad of your thumb now coated in your saliva, makes him fully moan. He doesn’t even try to hide how badly it affects him.
“I’m gonna have to agree with you, Dr. Langdon.” A smug smile spreads across your face. “Really is the sweetest pussy ever.”
The moment the words leave you he’s moving forward. Hands grabbing your jaw- firm, but not hard- lips crashing against yours, tongue easily slipping into your mouth.
You submit to him easily. His tongue dominates yours without any amount of a fight. The lingering taste of yourself in his mouth makes your brain fuzzy and core flutter.
When he pulls back for air you chase after him, a whine filling the silence between you as you pout up at him. The needy display makes him chuckle darkly. “Just made you cum and you already want more? And you say I’m the insatiable one.”
You huff at his words but stay quiet for a moment as he grabs the back of his collar and tugs both the scrub top and white undershirt off in one fluid motion. You press your thighs together instinctively.
“I got a second wind.”
Frank laughs at that, grin spreading on his face as he leans in for another heated kiss. His hands once again cupping your face, your thighs bracketing his knees and hands on his hips moving to untie the scrub bottoms.
Still feeling a bit hazy from the orgasm and fading migraine, your hands don’t fully cooperate. Fingers fumble with the drawstring while they shake, trying desperately to tug the knot free.
You pull back just enough to look down at what your fingers are attempting to do, brows furrowed and focused. It’s when you huff in annoyance that Frank moves to take over.
“Here,” he mumbles, hands moving in to pull the tight bow free. “You just lay back and look pretty. Let me do all the work.”
You look up at him, doe eyed and soft, and he can’t resist leaning forward for another quick peck.
The scrub bottoms go slack on his hips and he moves off of you long enough to tug them off with his boxers. You peel off your wrinkled shirt and lob it towards him, his reflexes grabbing it just before it gets out of reach. With an unceremonious toss into the hamper he climbs back on the bed and you waste no time in tugging him in for another kiss.
The simple sight of his bare length has your mind reeling. Sure, you’ve seen it multiple times by now. Shared showers, catching him changing out of the corner of your eye, numerous nights with him either down your throat or buried in your folds. But somehow it always felt like the first time you’d seen him naked all over again. All that love for him makes your chest feel like it could burst open at any moment.
“Frank,” you whisper once your lips disconnect. Foreheads pressed together as you hold his gaze. “I love you.”
Those words steal the breath from him.
Soft, innocent, not at all reflecting the heated atmosphere in the room. “I love you too, sweetheart.” His voice comes out quieter than anticipated, the sound raw as it gets caught in his throat. “God, I love you more than anything.”
In a moment you’re leaning in again, hands cupping the curve of his jaw just under each ear. There’s tears in your eyes from just how much you truly adore him, all the feelings you’ll never be able to properly convey with words threatening to rip you apart at the seams.
Frank’s arms cradle you against him. Hands slipped under your back, pressing you up against him as he peppers kisses across your face. He tastes the salt on your skin, feels the way your chin slightly trembles, hears the slight hitch and shaky breath you suck in. His heart clenches.
“Sweetheart?” He whispers.
Your eyes open to see his concerned gaze, one hand moving to brush some hair from your face and cup your cheek.
He’s worried that something’s wrong. That he did something wrong.
“Talk to me, baby. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Tell me what I did wrong.
His gaze skirts over your frame in desperate search of anything out of the ordinary. Any tell of pain or discomfort or something.
You just shake your head at his words and wipe your tears with the back of your hand. “N-no,” you stutter, voice wavering. “Nothing.. nothing’s wrong.”
His brows furrow and he frowns. You don’t let him speak. Don’t let him start to spiral, like he didn’t let you do earlier.
“I just.. love you.”
There’s a moment of pure silence. Air heavy until he lets out a breath that practically deflates him.
“Sweetheart.” He shakes his head just a little. Not dismissive, just.. surprised. Amazed that you could feel such deep tenderness for him. That you thought he deserved it.
“I love you so fucking much, Frankie.” Your voice is insistent. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me. I finally feel like a person with you.”
Those words break him.
Despite how you’ve told him daily how much you love him, how meeting him was a breath of fresh air, how he truly sees you for you and not a burden just because of a diagnosis, it still felt like the first time you’ve said it.
You both know what it feels like to be at your lowest with no one in your corner. To have to carry your struggles alone when you already feel like your back is about to break.
He doesn’t even notice the tears until your thumbs are swiping across his cheeks.
The action is so gentle, like you’re picking up the pieces of him and slotting them back into place all over again. He doesn’t deserve it- deserve you. He hates to admit that he’ll never feel like he can justify the kindness you show him but god is he willing to try.
“I love you more than I could ever say,” Frank manages. Voice hoarse, hands starting to tremble as he lets out a ragged breath. “God, I-“ He swallows back the lump in his throat, gaze momentarily moving to the wall behind the bed as he searches for the right words. “You’re everything I could ever want.”
Despite whether you feel it or not, he knows at that moment that you’re it for him.
He’s here, chest barred open before you. Vulnerable. Needing. And you’ve crawled in, slipped yourself between his third and fourth rib, and curled in around his heart. Holding the very source of what keeps him going in the most gentle embrace he’s ever felt.
You’re both crying. The lust from earlier is still there, energy still charged, but it’s desperate for a different kind of relief. An assurance that the other is here. That they’re right where they should be and never planning to leave.
Soft touches, gentle gazes, a wet chuckle filling the air before you’re pulling him back down for even more kisses.
You kiss him until you can’t breathe. Only pulling back when the lack of air starts to make you dizzy. He smiles- lopsided and soft and the same image you fell in love with all those months ago.
He shifts above you slightly and you can feel the weight of his aching length pressing against you, your own walls aching as the need for him reignites. It’s not just about pleasure. It’s a carnal need to feel him, all of him, completely and eternally.
Frank gives you another chance to call it quits for the night- always putting your comfort before his needs no matter how much his cock is weeping to feel you. He waits until you nod and verbally agree that you need this just as much as he does.
He reaches over to his nightstand and flicks on the lamp to the lowest brightness so he can dig through the drawer’s contents.
You watch as he produces a familiar silver-foiled square and rips it open with his teeth. Frank rolls it on, groaning softly at the momentary relief. And as soon as it’s on he’s leaning back over you, left hand braced on the pillow next to your head while his right guides his cock to where you need him.
He rubs himself through your folds, gathering your slick and mixing it with the condom’s existing lube, before finally moving to your entrance.
The moment his swollen head knocks against your cunt you’re gasping, fingers desperately grabbing at his back to get him closer.
His forehead is pressed against yours as he slips into your walls. A loud, relieved groan stumbles from his lips, the slick warmth of you wrapping around him as he slowly sinks in.
Your eyes roll back, lashes fluttering. You moan and cry and whimper for him, still needing him closer.
“I’m right here,” he coos in your ear, voice husky with lust. There’s still tears in your eyes once he’s finally sheathed fully inside you.
You lie there for a moment, nails curled in and pressing small crescents into his back muscles as you relish in the feel of him.
He’s your home. Your everything. You could crawl inside his skin and it still wouldn’t be close enough.
His name is a whimper on your tongue and he shushes you softly with a kiss. “I’m gonna make you feel good, baby. Just let me take care of you.”
You nod at his words and he finally starts to move.
Shallow thrusts at first, letting you adjust to his size. Your legs hook over his thighs, arms wrapped tightly behind his torso. Face pressed against his neck. Fully clinging to him, needing to feel him in every way possible.
When he pulls out just enough to thrust back into your velvety walls you’re already whining for him. Breathy gasps, soft moans, fingers still grabbing handfuls of his back.
He holds you through all of it. Punctuating every thrust with a kiss- lips on your shoulder, neck, cheek, hair. Any inch of you he can get to. Your name is a prayer on his lips, a declaration of all the love and trust he has for you.
Every slow drag of his hips into your core feels like heaven. It’s so good, so deep, so intimate you almost can’t think. All the pain of earlier has washed away and is replaced with a resounding desperation for that pleasure one more time.
“F-fuck, Frankie,” you pant. He’s not fucking, doing something more than just making love. He’s worshiping you with every thrust of his cock deep within your walls.
A hot kiss to your throat just over the rapid thumping of your heart. “Feel so good, sweetheart.” His voice feels like smooth syrup flowing over your senses and adding to the warmth in your belly. “Love this pussy.. Love you.”
A desperate cry of his name follows a particularly deep thrust, his hips angling up to hit that delicious spot deep within you. He groans above you and continues to chase that same reaction again.
You feel like you’re in a different reality. Frank is taking you apart and putting you back together all at once and you never want it to end.
His pace starts to increase as well as your desperation. It’s so good, so mind-blowing that you truly can’t think about anything other than the way you feel him and the pleasure he’s feeding you in every single nerve. Tears wet your cheeks as you hiccup and whimper and moan.
The sight of you sobbing from his cock is the most beautiful thing Frank has ever seen. He knows he isn’t going to last much longer. The way your walls are fluttering around him, the sting of his nails clawing on his back and shoulders, the sounds of your pleasure ringing out in time with his thrusts. It’s music to his god damn ears.
“So good for me,” he pants against your ear, nibbling softly on the lobe. “Best thing I’ve ever had, right here.”
You’re practically light headed from his words and thrusts. All you can do is babble in reply, any ability to reply seemingly lost as you swim through a sea of pleasure. Frank can feel how close you are, how you’re desperately clenching and fluttering around him now. He dips his head down to catch your lips in a messy kiss, tongue wasting no time to tangle with yours. You submit easily- not willing to put up a fight if you were even able to.
His right hand moves from your hip to your core, fingers finding your swollen clit and immediately rubbing tight circles. Your body jerks back from the kiss, panting and whimpering and absolutely trembling as you teeter on the edge.
“Come for me. Be good and let go for me, baby.”
His words are a reassuring grumble and you moan loudly before finally falling.
And Frank is there to catch you. Hips continuing to thrust as you crash into the wall of pleasure, hand still petting your clit as he searches for his own release. He finds it shortly after you do- the spasming of your walls around him is more than enough.
He buries himself deep- deeper than you ever could’ve imagined- and stills before spilling into the condom with waves of hot ribbons of cum. Right hand lightening its pressure and only pulling away when you start to squirm from overstimulation.
As you come down from the high he presses soft kisses to your hair as your head stays pressed firmly against his shoulder. He murmurs something you don’t fully catch, brain still mush while you sniffle and hiccup.
It takes a few moments for you to calm down enough to talk. “Frankie,” you whimper, feeling so vulnerable physically and mentally that you don’t know what else to do but need him.
“Right here, baby,” he immediately reassures you. Frank moves both of you to a lying down position on your sides, his softening cock still buried inside you. He can worry about cleaning you both up and getting rid of the condom later- all he wants to do right now is make sure you’re okay.
“Did so good for me, sweetheart. Absolutely perfect.”
His words melt over you like a blanket and you burrow into him. Legs wrapped tightly around his hips, head pressed against his chest right over his heart. “Love you,” you manage, voice barely a whisper as you try to stop the trembling.
He holds you tight, trying to convey all the love in the world. One of his hands rubs along the length of your back and the other buries in your hair to hold you close. “I love you too, baby. Just breathe for me, okay? Focus on my breathing.”
You give him the tiniest nod possible and do your best to follow his instructions. Shallow, unsure breaths eventually turn into smoother, even ones that match his pace. He can feel your heart rate slowing down too and he lets out a breath of relief.
“You’re okay, sweetheart. I’m right here.”
Your heart clenches with an overwhelming amount of love from those words and you can’t stop yourself from saying how much you love him once again. He smiles, like he always does, because it always feels like the first time he’s heard it from you.
“Love you more than anything.” A promise you know he means.
You stay like that for a few more minutes until you’ve both calmed down. Frank wipes your tears, kisses your cheeks, and smoothes hair off your sweaty skin.
“Feeling okay?” His eyes are filled with love and a gentle concern as he looks at you.
“Yeah,” you murmur.
“Pain?”
“No migraine,” you assure him. “Hips are sore.”
He cracks a smile. “Expected as much. You ready to get cleaned up?”
You feel guilty for wanting to say no. Part of you knew that Frank probably wanted to shower and just relax in bed for the rest of the evening but you definitely didn’t feel like moving any time soon. Especially when you knew you wouldn’t be steady on your feet. “Don’t want you to get up.”
He chuckles softly and presses a kiss to your forehead. “How about this- we take a nice bath together and change the sheets, and then we can watch that baking competition show you love?”
A smile of your own pulls at your lips and he doesn’t miss the way you perk up a little at the suggestion. “I guess I can agree to that.”
Frank laughs, the sound making his chest shake just a bit against you. The vibration makes your heart swell with adoration. He gathers you into his arms and sits up, directing you to grab your reusable cup with the electrolyte drink you were nursing earlier before standing to carry you into the bathroom.
He loved you, and you loved him. Despite the flaws. Despite the struggles.
You two were a match. Half-doomed and semi-sweet.
a/n: I will never beat the "using fob lyrics for fanfiction" allegations but also if Pete Wentz didn't want me using it he wouldn't have made Disloyal Order of Water Buffalos so absolutely devastating to my psyche. Plus that song just fits these two so perfectly.