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grippingbeskar · 10 months

Text

i wanna be yours

frank castle x fem!reader

warnings: explicit content minors dni! 18+ (mxf, lil splash of dirty talk, first time together?) swearing, mentions of canon typical violence

a/n: based on this request from the lovely @lemon-world1 you know i’d write whatever you give me okay <3

“Frank.” You breathe out at the sight of him. He’s the last person you would have thought would be on your doorstep. You thought… you could have sworn on your life that yesterday would have been the last time you’d ever see him.

It broke something in you, but it was for the best.

Your work was over. Whatever you did or didn’t have with him, all the late night stake outs and crammed car rides, it had to end when your business did. You both knew that. You didn’t live lives that were compatible with indulging the warmth he gave you every time he looked at you like he did.

Like he was right now.

He’s panting like he ran here, cropped hair sticking to the side of his face. Rain drips off his nose, slips over the healed cut on his cheek. You remember how he got it, how his blood splattered across your face and how you screamed his name. It was the first time you realised you needed him, that little scare.

“What are you doing here?” You manage to speak, but he’s not said a word. He’s just breathing hard, both hands gripping the edge of your doorframe, eyes boring into you. He’s so tall, he always looks down on you. Usually it doesn’t bother you, but right now you feel small. Like prey, waiting to be hunted down and torn apart. That’s how intense he is sometimes, and it’s impossible not to be sucked into it.

He steps into your apartment, and you step back to give him the room. Your eyes flutter, confusion and temptation swirling in a sudden battle in your stomach. This was not smart. You were a lone wolf— you worked alone. That’s how you survive.

You should tell him to leave.

Now.

His hand slips over yours, gently, to where your holding the door open. He takes over, and shuts it behind him. Your hand follows it, and when the lock clicks your fate shut, his hand doesn’t let yours go.

“Frank.” You say again, weaker this time. He lets his hand wander higher on your arm.

“I thought about it.” He says, his voiced dry and strained.

“Thought about what?”

“You. I’m always fuckin’ thinking about you.” He shakes his head, like he’s mad at himself for it.

You understand. You can’t get him out of your head, either.

“I’m not lettin’ you leave.” Frank says as he steps closer to you, and meets no resistance when you let him tug your hips closer to his. Despite the rain, he’s warm on your body, lighting up all the pieces of you that he’s made his own. “Don’t go.”

“I have to— our job is done here. This—“ You gesture between the both of you, where your chests nearly touch “— this has to be done, too. We put everyone in danger if I stay.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” He nearly growls it out. You bite your lip to stop a smile, his hands moving up to dance along your ribcage. He drops your eyes and scans your body, drawing along the line where the two of you meet. “I can’t let you go.”

“I don’t want to let you go, either. But what about—“

“I’ll figure it out. Just tell me you’ll stay with me.” His eyebrows furrow on his hardened face, and you want to smooth the lines of him. To take the tension out of his face like you know you can.

His words pull your heartstrings. You know you sacrifice everything, put everyone in danger if the two of you risk being seen together. But… the feeling of his hands along your body, the way his head dips and leaves a trail of zapping warmth along your jaw as he softly drags his mouth along your skin, tasting you. You couldn’t say no to him. You wouldn’t dream of it.

“Stay with me.” He calls to you again, and you’re already nodding when he claims your mouth and kisses you deep.

It moves quickly. It’s hard and fast, the way he scoops you up and wraps your legs around his hips. He spins you around, your apartment suddenly foreign to you as you get lost in the tangle of his tongue on yours. Things clatter and smash as he shoves you onto the nearest table, pressing your back to the wall. He groans when your hips roll against him, nipping your bottom lip with his teeth.

He grabs at your hips, your sides, your face— any part of you close enough to hold and pull closer is covered by his claiming hands. You drag your fingers through his wet hair, dragging the tips of your nails over his scalp. He groans again, muffling the sound against you as he starts to bruise your neck with his wandering mouth. You let your head fall back, feeling him suck at the skin under your jaw.

You want him to do it harder. More noticeable. You want people to know— you were his. Fuck everyone else, fuck safety. This was worth burning the world to the ground. His teeth nip at the sensitive skin, smoothing an apology with a warm kiss, and you moan his name.

“Frank.” The room echos it back to you, and you move again. Frank lifts you, attaching his mouth back to yours and encouraging the slow roll of your hips in his hands. He’s cupped your ass completely, gripping the flesh and slipping his hands under your shorts so he can touch more of you.

He was greedy like this. Always wanting more, wanting you to bare nothing to him. It was impossible to be insecure with him— he bathed every inch of your skin in adoration, whether it be with his mouth, his fingers or the rest of him. He was obsessive— hungry for it, and most of all he was fucking insatiable.

He lets your ass hit the cool marble of the kitchen counter, tugging the shorts down your bare legs as he kisses you deeper. He throws the scraps of material as far away as he can, like the further he throws it the longer you’ll be like this in front of him. Naked from the waist down, spread and warm in front of him. Just for him.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He mumbles against you, then one of his hands pushes your chest back. You catch yourself with your forearms, giving you a perfect view of Frank dropping to his knees and burying himself between your legs.

The moan you let out at the indulgent lick of his mouth through your folds is drowned out by his own. He hooks his arms around your body, letting your legs lock him in, and you feel the soft brush of his hair against your inner thighs as he drops lower, then comes back up.

He leaves no part of you without the pleasure of his mouth, messily fucking you open with his tongue like he’d fade away without the taste of you committed to memory. His lips wrap around your clit, and you feel the satisfied grin he gets when you cry out and shudder. He grips your thighs harder to keep you right where he wants you, and your eyes roll back into your head just as he looks up at you.

It’s too much— the skilled movements of his tongue and mouth against you. He knows you too well, knows exactly how to get you off in either the quickest or longest way. If he wants to give it to you, he can do it in record time. If he wants to tease you, he’d know how to keep you in bed for hours. Days, if he wanted. But right now, he only wants one thing, and it’s the reason why he’s being so giving. So, so generous.

He wants you to stay.

You tug hard on his hair, feeling the vibrations of his groan rush through to your chest. Your heart beats faster and faster, the pounding in your ears blurring everything to a dull white. When you cum, he just gets faster, wanting to taste more of you, feel the way your legs shake and your fingers wrap through his short hair and your hips ride his face through the high.

His head moves with you, side to side, up and down, the sounds so pornographic you think your neighbours will most definitely call the cops, but you can’t think enough to care. You scream his name, your body giving out and your back pressing flat against the countertop. Frank starts moving again when your breathing slows, the heat of his mouth kissing up your hip bones, leaving the mixed wetness of you and him along your skin and up your stomach.

“Baby… stay with me. Stay with me.” He tugs you closer, your legs dangling off the side. He’s now got you face to face, nose pressing against yours. In your post-bliss haze, time slows a little. You let your eyes drift over his face, fingers slip like the raindrops down his cheeks, soft and gentle. “I want you. Stay.”

“I’ll stay. I’ll stay.” You nod quickly, and kiss him hard. Your nose squishes his, and it only presses you closer when he wraps both his arms around your waist. You shuffle further on to the edge of the counter, and then your hands slip down further. “Here. Now.”

You had done a lot with Frank, but you hadn’t broken this barrier. You hadn’t crossed this final line, and you couldn’t think of a better time than now. To prove to him that you were his, that you wanted this as badly as he did. You didn’t know how to say it, but you could show him.

You undo his belt, and he just rests his hands on your hips and watches. Your deft fingers struggle just for a moment with the button, the watchful eye he gives you making you nervous. Your hands shake, and when you finally get them undone, he covers yours with his own.

“You tell me what you want. You call the shots.” He notices your nerves, and puts the gun in your hand. Hands over control. You shove his boxers down just enough, mouth almost watering at the sight.

“I want you. I want…” Your hand trails over his length, hot and heavy in your hand, and he groans, head falling to your shoulder. “I want this.”

His hands fall away, resting on your hips again, thumbs tracing circles along the skin. You spread your legs wider, accommodating his massive frame, and you both gasp into each others mouths when the length of him presses against your wet heat.

He looks up at you, and leans closer, pressing his forehead against yours. He kisses you, an attempt to distract, and it works so quickly you almost forget the pain of him sliding into you. You cry out softly, but it’s lost in the taste of his mouth, and you can feel him holding himself back, too. His grip on your hips is tight, and he can’t concentrate on kissing you when he bottoms out, instead pulling away and cursing.

“Oh, fuck.” He growls, then dives back to your mouth. He doesn’t move just yet, letting you get used to the stretch, but it doesn’t take long until your wriggling on the counter top, wanting nothing more for him to move.

The pain dissipates, and when he rolls his hips back into you again, it disappears completely. Instead it’s replaced by a foreign bloom of pleasure, one that no one else has made you feel. Maybe it’s because none of them have held your heart in their hands like he does. This feels different, because it is different. It’s terrifying and consuming you form the inside out, but it feels too good to stop, and you get lost in it before you can make sense of it.

“More, Frank. God— I want more.” You moan into his ear, and he bites gently on your shoulder as he speeds the snap of his hips. He hits you deeper like this, your legs wrapped around his back so he can’t get too far. Whatever you ask, he gives it to you ten-fold, so when you say you want more, he fucking delivers.

He drives into you, making you see stars with the approach of another rush of pleasure. One of your hands claws at his back, raking lines against the skin you’ve dipped under his shirt to find. His muscles flex under your harsh touch, and he fucks you faster when he feels your nails scratch along him. You know he loves the marks as much as you do— he’s yours as much as you are his, and he doesn’t care if people know, either.

“You feel so f—uhh-fucking good, baby. Fuck, I can’t last.” His voice is more broken than you’ve ever heard it, a scratchy sort of low growl as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. You can’t find words beside the strangled moans he fucks from you, and you just lock your legs behind him in a silent plea.

Your arms dig into him as you cum again, and he only manages two more strong drives of his hips against yours before he’s cumming with you, the feeling of you tightening around him pushing him over the edge with you. He keeps his head buried against you as he cums, singing a broken chorus of your name.

He stays buried inside of you when he picks you up again, your head not fully clear as your arms wrap around his neck and keep him close. You don’t know where he’s carrying you, and you think you don’t care until your body hits the bed— and then you sigh in relief.

Any tension that he didn’t fuck out of you is gone when he keeps you on top of him, letting your head flop and body relax against him and the fuzzy comforter you’ve chosen for the coldest nights in New York. His fingers push the fabric of your shirt up, and then dance along the line of your spine. The light sensation gives you goosebumps, and brings you back to reality, one that is almost as blissful as the dreams you’ve had.

“You’ll stay.” He says after a while, and you manage a nod. Just one, but it’s enough, a hum of satisfaction vibrating through his chest. When he wraps his arms around you, you drift into sleep, knowing you’d do whatever he asked.

But for now, you’ll stay.

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