#the punisher x y/n | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

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.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #marvel tv #the punisher x reader #the punisher x you #the punisher x y/n #marvel #jon bernthal

915 notes · View notes

madschiavelique · 3 months

Text

⟢﹒𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐡

⟢﹒ summary : your boyfriend’s too pretty for you to sit correctly at your friends’ party, thankfully his fingers are here to help you

⟢﹒ contents warnings : SMUT, afab reader, fingering, overstimulation, semi-public, praise, no use of y/n

⟢﹒ word count : 1,2k

⟢﹒ note : hehe this thought has been lingering in my silly brain for a bit, had exposed it to besties @sunflowersandsapphires and @gracethyomen and chose to write a lil something sooo here we are

"Frank...," a sigh laced with a moan left your lips, "please-"

Your sentence was interrupted as his fingers worked themselves into you to perfection, arching your back as your head rolled back on his shoulder.

Two - that's how many orgasms he'd managed to give you in record time with just the help of his fingers. While one hand was busy satisfying the warmth of your needy cunt, the other grasping the full flesh of your breast freed from your tank top pulled up over your chest, his lips were whispering the sweetest torments.

"I thought that's what you were craving," his lips stretched as his warm breath spread over the skin of your shoulder. "Ain't that what ya wanted sweetheart?" he questioned as he came to place a kiss behind your ear.

The overstimulation was beginning to permeate your whole body, everything tingled you, nearing the painful point. Your hips moved to lift you up so your body didn't feel like it was about to explode, but his hand let go of your nipple to hold you firmly in place by the hip.

Another complaint escaped your lips as your eyebrows tilted back begging for mercy. His nose pressed against your jaw, his low, warm sneer landing on the inflamed skin of your cheek.

"Couldn't even wait for us to be out of here, huh?" his hand moved your hips closer to his lap as a curve of his fingers inside you made you jolt.

Your thighs pressed together as if this gesture would stop Frank from continuing. Your teeth sank into the tender skin of your lip, trying in vain to hold back the sounds Frank was creating from your body.

You were at a party with friends, with enough guests that if you both slipped away no one would be looking for you. Good laughs, chatting about everything and nothing, and just what was shaping up to be an excellent evening.

But it was hard to stay put when your boyfriend was like this: his shirt sleeves rolled up, listening to other people's discussions with his arms folded, a grin on his face as he laughed at a friend's joke.

Every time he turned his back in your direction, you couldn't help watching him, noticing how the fabric of his shirt seemed to clench against his muscles. And the way his broad shoulders shrugged slightly as he answered questions from the guests.

And his fingers, curling around his beer, his digits brushing the mouth of the bottle as his lips placed a thirsty kiss on it.

No, you couldn't have waited, you couldn't have lasted for very long.

"Want me to stop?" he asked as his hand gripped your hip and slid down to your navel, pressing into the hollow.

Lightning flashed through your thighs, making them tremble as your whining became less muffled. He pressed against the spongy spot, making you see stars in a way that was as cruel as it was life-saving.

Your lower belly felt like a hot summer's day, and you struggled to hold on as one of your hands clutched the sheets of the bed you were sitting on and the other gripped Frank's thigh.

Your mind was all fuzzy, and yet wide awake: enough to tell you that you didn't want him to stop.

He was kissing the corner of your jaw, "My baby couldn't wait for me," he whispered, "M'gonna give her what she wants."

His hand moved up your belly, taking hold of one of your tits again and resuming the movements of his fingers within you in a slow, delicious rhythm.

But he stopped for a moment, tilting his head to one side and staring at the door facing you. Lost in the euphoria of your body's sensations and the sudden halt to his movements, you let out a moan, your lips forming in a small pout as you managed to breathe and realign your senses for that brief moment.

Gently, his lips brushed your lobe as he whispered "Gotta be real quiet for me little one, hm?"

It was when the shadow of your thought rose above the bright light of your pleasure for a moment that you realised: someone was close. The panic didn't even have time to grip your guts before Frank's fingers resumed their torment.

You leaned forward as you tried with all the composure you had left to be silent. But his hand on your breast climbed to your shoulder to pull you back against him until your back was against his chest.

"Seen Frank anywhere?"

Your eyes rested on the slit of light just below the door that contrasted with the half-light of the room, fearful of shadows on the other side.

But Frank's lips pulled you back to him as he kissed your neck, exhaling against your skin and letting the wetness of his kisses turn icy hot under his breath.

"Don't know," a second voice replied, "him and his girl haven't been down in a while."

His palm pressed against your clit and you took a jerky breath, Frank's hand immediately coming to rest over your mouth without ever stopping.

You felt yourself getting closer, felt the knot in your stomach tighten as the seconds ticked by, as Frank's fingers continued to build the ecstasy, as you felt yourself losing all control.

"Maybe they went to sleep, both seemed a bit tired."

Your heart pounded in your ears as the voices got closer. Tired wasn't really the term you would've used, pretending was more of the sort. It was important that it didn't look too obvious, that the way you were pulling Frank's hand towards the upstairs rooms didn't give the impression that you were in high school and taking your boyfriend back to your room away from the eyes of your parents.

You bit your cheek, trying to restrict the moans rising from your throat by any means possible, letting your body gently vibrate to his every move like a guitar string vibrating every time it was plucked and its music had to sound at all costs.

And you felt it rising to complete intensity, your back arching wildly but Frank's grip holding you in place as everything shattered. Waves of electricity were crashing in your body like the angriest waves an enraged sea could ever send. Your thighs were shaking so hard you thought that at any moment your body would burst into a thousand pieces of embers.

Your body jolted violently in silence as Frank continued his movements, slowing them down little by little as you were coming down from your high.

"Let them sleep, we'll see them in the morning."

When they were far away enough, Frank removed his hand from your mouth and simply let it slide until it gripped your jaw and turned you towards him softly.

You felt yourself floating, your eyes half-closed as your body slowly came down from its emotions. You still twitched a little as Frank smiled, clearly proud of the state he'd put you in. All dumb-fucked, just from his fingers : he could get drunk on that sight of you.

Then he came and kissed your temple gently, a low chuckle vibrating in his throat, "That's my girl."

274 notes · View notes

flightlessangelwings · 4 months

Text

Eat Dessert First

Frank Castle x fem!reader

Word count- 1.3k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), fluff, oral (f receiving), established relationship, praise, pet names (baby, sweetheart), cockwarming, food mention, no use of y/n

Notes- This was supposed to be for wanksgiving (hence the food theme) but life got in the way so we're gonna say this is wanking in the new year instead lol! This was so fun to write! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that an turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post!

The intoxicating smells filled the air as you put the finishing touches on the meal you spent all afternoon on. You wanted to surprise Frank with something special, so while he was gone, you got to work. And as you placed the last dish on the table, you stood with your hand on your hips, a proud expression on your face.

“Oh yeah, Frank is going to love this,” you muttered out loud as you beamed.

Right on cue, the door opened and Frank called your name, “Baby, I’m home,” he called from the door as he kicked his shoes and jacket off, “Shit baby, something smells so fuckin’ good!”

“In here baby,” you replied as you leaned against the table.

The look on his face when he walked in made your heart skip a beat. Frank’s mouth dropped open as his eyes went wide. He stood in awe as his eyes scanned across the table, his mouth watered as the smells engulfed him. “Shit…” he murmured as his gaze turned to you as you stood next to your new pride and joy, “Baby…”

“You like it?” you asked in a low, seductive tone as you subtly shimmied your shoulders.

“Fuck baby,” Frank crossed the space in a flash, “You sure know how to treat a man,” his tone dropped as he gathered your in his arms, “It looks delicious,” he groaned in your ear.

You giggled as you savored the warmth of his embrace. Goosebumps erupted on your skin as Frank nibbled on your ear, then down your neck. A soft moan escaped your lips as your eyes fluttered shut and you clung to him while he licked and sucked at the sensitive spots on your neck, “Frank…”

“I can’t help it, baby,” he murmured as he pulled back to look you in the eyes, “It all looks so good,” he paused as he smirked devilishly, “But I think I want my dessert first.”

“Frank!” you yelped with a laugh before he closed the gap between your faces and took your lips with a heated kiss.

He swallowed the moan you let out as he immediately darted his tongue past your lips, tasting you. Frank bucked his hips against yours as he groaned into the kiss while his tongue explored your mouth. Heat rose in the room as he scooted you over to the table. Frank only broke away from the kiss to carefully move things out of the way, silently acknowledging how much time and care you put into everything and not wanting to mess anything up.

You watched as he hurriedly pushed a few plates out of the way, biting your lip in anticipation. Even as the smell of the food wafted in the air, you suddenly had something else on your mind- the same thing Frank had.

“Come here, baby,” Frank purred as he patted the table.

You rolled your eyes playfully as you sauntered closer, “You are ridiculous, you know that Frank Castle?”

Grabbing your hips and tugging at your clothes, Frank grinned, “You like it, baby.”

Your response came in a moan as you allowed Frank to strip you and guide you onto the table. Once you were seated and comfortable, he took your lips once more with a deep kiss, You arched your back into his broad body as you parted your legs to allow him to settle between them. Another moan slipped out when you felt how hard he was over his jeans.

“Frank…” you whispered as he started to kiss his way down your body.

“Lay back, sweetheart,” he groaned, “I’ve got you.”

Doing as you were told, you slowly laid back onto the table, and if it weren’t for Frank’s tongue grazing your nipple, you would have felt ridiculous. You let out a loud cry as his lips encased your breast, his tongue flicking over your nipple before he sucked hard. Arching your back, you grabbed onto the edge of the table for support as he made his way to your other breast and gave it the same treatment.

Frank growled with need as he made his way down your body, kissing and nibbling every inch of you skin that he could reach until he knelt between your parted legs, “Fuck baby,” he breathed as he admired your dripping wet pussy, “Now this is a dessert.”

“Frank!” you burst into laughter for a moment before you dissolved into moans as he dove into your cunt.

He groaned into you as his large hands kneaded into the flesh of your thighs and his tongue ran up and down your folds. The taste of you always drove Frank wild, but today was special, as if the culinary masterpiece you made was reflected in your body. His head bobbed up and down as he explored every corner of you with his tongue.

“Fuck!” you cried out as your grip on the edge of the table tightened and your mind swam in pleasure, “Yes… Frank…”

Your moans went right to his cock and it twitched in his pants as Frank slurped loudly. Giving you pleasure truly gave him pleasure, and Frank loved nothing more than eating you out. At times, it was even more satisfying than fucking you. And Frank couldn’t break away from you once he started.

Obscene noises filled the room as Frank greedily lapped your pussy up to the soundtrack of your cries. He growled into you as his tongue flicked over your clit a few times before he wrapped his lips around it. Sucking hard, Frank savored the loud screams you let out. He sucked hard before he let go and ran his tongue down your cunt and darted it into your entrance a few times.

Your screams only grew louder and louder, and tears filled your eyes as you felt your body heat up. “Fuck… Frank…” you couldn’t form more than one coherent syllable as you swam in the pleasure that Frank’s tongue brought you.

He groaned into you, acknowledging what you were trying to tell him- he knew you were close. Frank darted his tongue in and out of you a few more times before he went back to your clit, flicking and sucking until you hit your peak.

You came with a loud scream of his name, and one of your hands flew to his scalp, pulling his hair hard as your legs shook around him. Tears fell from your eyes as wave after wave of pleasure crashed into you, and Frank showed no sign of letting up. As you moaned and whimpered, a second climax hit right after your first, making you scream again.

It wasn’t until you whined that Frank finally let go of you, breaking away with a gasp as he took in air for the first time. His chin glistened with your release as he looked down at you, spread out and naked on the table. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths for a few moments before he spoke in a low, gravely tone, “Shit baby,” he growled, “I thought he food looked good, but you look fucking delicious.”

That made you open your eyes and you gave him a playfully pointed look before you let out a loud laugh, “You are ridiculous, Frank,” you repeated your sentiment from earlier.

He just let out a low rumble of laughter before he climbed over you to kiss you deeply. Both of you moaned into each other as the tastes on your tongues drove you wild. When Frank broke away, you stared into each others eyes, and time felt like it stopped. But, a stomach growl brought you both back to the present, and with a giggle, you said, “Let’s not let this get cold,” you murmured.

Frank nodded, feeling the pang of actual hunger as the smells hit him once more.

Feeling his hardness, you got an idea, and you cupped Frank’s face to bring him closer to yours again as you whispered, “How about I sit on your cock while we eat?”

The groan he let out went right to your pussy, “I fuckin’ love you, baby,” he kissed you once more.

208 notes · View notes

amhrosina · 1 year

Text

Honey Come Home (Frank Castle x f!Reader)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

A/N: I think I wrote this super self indulgent piece because I was definitely wishing I had someone to come defend/save me when I was in a similar situation with a family member of mine. For all of my friends who are survivors of abuse, I love you, I'm proud of you, and Frank Castle would defend you with his life if he could!!!! (Also a huge thank you to @wheredidiputmyfish for beta reading :))) )

Summary: It's been years since Frank's heard from you, but the second you call and ask him for help, he hurries to defend you from your abusive and toxic boyfriend.

(Warnings: SUPER TRIGGER WARNING FOR DESCRIPTIONS OF ABUSE!!!!!, it's not directly spelled out but its alluded to and the aftermath is heavily discussed, canon typical frank stuff, descriptions of violence, frank goes all punisher on your shitty boyfriend, some PTSD, ex-best friends to lovers, references to frank and reader's past, angsty as hell, short lovey-dovey smut at the end, happy ending)

Frank woke with a start at the sound of his ringtone chiming from the front pocket of his backpack, tucked away and mostly forgotten about between the rare phone calls from Matt and Madani. It was so late in the evening that most people would consider it early in the morning. Whether it was late or early, it was certainly not a great time to be calling someone. Frank thought about pointing this out to whoever was waiting for him to pick up his phone, but his annoyance quickly faded as he read the name flashing across the screen.

A crack, deep down in his soul, ached as he read your name. It had been years since he’d spoken to you, and even longer since he’d seen you. The last time he’d spoken to you, he’d said some things he regretted, things that haunted him to this day, things that he’d never forgive himself for saying to you of all people.

There was a deep well of history between the two of you, and though Frank had been decent enough at pretending it didn’t exist, the memories pushed to the forefront of his mind, playing like a montage in an old movie. Stolen glances between chemistry equations in high school, the subtle press of Frank’s hand against your back when he’d walk you home from campus in college, the touches that lasted just a little too long to be considered friendly when he was on leave. You were his, and he was yours, though that wasn’t entirely true, either. The history he shared with you was a compilation of ‘almosts’ that were usually too painful to think about for longer than five seconds.

And now you were calling him. After three years of silence, you were calling him at this ungodly hour, and he was struggling to gain function in his brain, lungs, chest, fingers, entire being. If he didn’t answer soon, it would likely go to the voicemail that Frank had yet to set up even though it had been literal years since he bought the phone. The idea of potentially missing the sound of your voice after so long without it knocked a semblance of sense into him.

He clicked the screen and raised it to his ear, praying that this wasn’t someone’s idea of a cruel joke. The sound of your subdued, ragged breaths carried through the speaker and hit him directly in the chest. For a moment, Frank said nothing, afraid he would break whatever spell had convinced you to call him after so long. Then, because the thought of not hearing your voice was so unbearable, he murmured your name into the phone.

“Frank?”

You had whispered it, but it echoed loudly in Frank’s head. It wasn’t the voice of the confident, radiant person he’d known so many years before. His chest tightened, and he gripped the phone a little tighter as he murmured your name again.

“I didn’t think you’d answer.” You revealed, still whispering, but a little relieved.

“I’ll always answer if it’s you.” He blurted out, immediately cringing at his inability to filter his thoughts before they exited his mouth. “Are you okay?”

“Frank, I need your hel-.”

You were cut off by a crashing sound that made you yelp into the phone. Frank listened intently to the sound of your cries as someone pounded against a door nearby. Fear, anger, and unabashed love filled his chest until he couldn’t stand still any longer. He pressed the phone inbetween his cheek and shoulder, pulling on whatever articles of clothing were within reach.

“Frankie.” You pleaded, your voice so broken and cracked that Frank could barely breathe at the sound of it.

“I’m coming.” He murmured, pulling his boots on with fervor. “I’m coming, baby. Can you send me your location, sweetheart? Where are you?”

A buzz rattled against his cheek, and he swore when he read the address you’d sent. This whole time, for the years that he’d spent alone, miserable, and missing you, you were living less than twenty minutes away. A male shout in the background of your muffled cries fueled his anger even further.

“Who’s trying to hurt you, baby?” He was already exiting out the back of his building, running toward the storage facility that doubled as his garage.

“He’s my,” you paused, sniffling, “He was my boyfriend. He’s not anymore.”

“Do you have a weapon? Anything to protect yourself until I get there?” He clenched his jaw at the thought of you being hurt.

“I locked myself in the bathroom.” You whimpered as another sound crashed through the bathroom. “Please hurry.” You begged.

Frank’s jaw was so tightly clenched that he was surprised he hadn’t broken his teeth.

“I’m on my way, baby. I’ll be there soon. I promise.”

“He’s dangerous, Frank.” You warned, and Frank’s chest ached with the realization that you were worried about him when you were the one in danger.

“He’s not as dangerous as me.” Frank replied, clenching his fists.

Frank clambered into his truck and backed into the abandoned street. The navigation said he’d arrive in twenty-one minutes. Frank made it in ten.

“I’m around the corner, sweetheart. I’m almost there.” Frank was pushing ninety in his truck. “What’s he doing now?”

“He’s-” You started, and abruptly stopped.

“He’s what, baby?” Frank pushed the gas pedal all the way down.

A sudden crash sounded, and Frank held his breath. Then, you began screaming, and Frank saw red. He was out of the truck and hauling ass up the sidewalk to the old, ramshackle house faster than anyone should be physically able to move. The sound of your screams echoed through the phone, but the closer he got to the front door, the more he could hear it bellowing outside of the house.

He didn’t hesitate to kick the door down, instantly spying your hunched form as your dickhead ex-boyfriend tried to tug you out of the bathroom. Both turned to look at Frank as he took in his surroundings.

Your face, your beautiful and radiant and glowing face, was littered with cuts and bruises. The right side of your jaw was swollen and tinged in dark blue and black. A cut that swept across your top and bottom lip bled profusely onto the tile beneath you.

“What the fuck, man?”

Frank would kill him. Frank would tear him apart. He would–

“Frankie.” Your sigh of relief was melded with a guttural sob.

The very-soon-to-be-dead man swung around, eyeing you.

“This is who you called, you stupid bitch?” He rolled his eyes and squeezed the hand that was wrapped around your arm. A whimper left your lips, and it took everything in Frank not to murder the man right then and there. But he would not let you see that – the violence that he was capable of – the violence that tainted the blood on his hands, dooming him to a life without remorse.

“Take your fucking hands off her.” Frank demanded, stepping forward until he was towering over the man. The man eyed him warily but didn’t let go. Frank almost laughed at his idiocy. “You’re not gonna want to know what’s gonna happen if you don’t listen to me.”

The man dropped your arm, and you sagged to the ground, inching across the floor until you were behind Frank’s broad frame. Frank didn’t let his eyes stray from his target as he knelt, pressing the keys to his truck into your palm.

“Go.” He whispered. “I’ll be done in a sec.”

“But Frank, I-”

“Go.”

You crawled to your feet, limping toward the front door. Frank stayed perfectly still, imagining every awful thing he was going to do to the man that hurt you, until the sound of the truck door shutting indicated that you were safely away from the violence that haunted this house.

Frank was on the guy in half a breath, pushing him so hard into the wall that the drywall cracked under the pressure. He pressed his palm up against the guy’s jaw, slamming his head into the wall again.

“What? Now that you’re up against a real man, you don’t want to fight?” Frank sneered, tightening his hold on the man’s jaws. “Only a coward hits women.”

Frank’s fist connected with his face, spraying blood across the tile beneath them. The guy crumpled to the floor, and Frank followed, hitting him again and again and again, until the man was unrecognizable. The man wheezed, barely breathing, but Frank wasn’t done.

He slid the knife from his back pocket and plunged it into the man’s stomach, knowing immediately that he would never regret this blood being on his hands. He leaned in and whispered a promise that he would keep until the day he died.

“If by some miracle you survive this, you better hope to God I don’t find you. You think this is bad? It could be so much worse. You never deserved her.”

Frank pulled the blade from the guy’s stomach and wiped the blood on the man’s sleeve. Finally satisfied with his work, he made his way back toward the truck that held the most important thing he’d ever loved inside.

The drive back to Frank’s place was calmer, now that the immediate threat had been eradicated. You hadn’t said much of anything, instead curling into yourself, pressing your face into your palms and quietly crying. Frank didn’t know what to do, unsure of how to act around you after so long. It’d been so easy to be around you before – like breathing, he sometimes thought – but now, after everything you’d both been through, he struggled to find solid footing.

“Are you taking me home?” you asked, lifting your puffy eyes to meet his across the truck cabin.

“Yeah.” Frank nodded once. “To my place. Is that okay?” He added after a moment.

“Yeah.” You looked at your lap, fiddling with your fingers. “I’m sorry if I-”

“Don’t apologize for a damn thing. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You met Frank’s gaze. He was resolute in his statement, daring you to defy him. For a moment, the soft look in your eyes as you looked at him was enough to strip him to his roots. He felt nothing but an insurmountable love to have you back in his life again, even if it was under horrifying circumstances, even if it was only for tonight. He would accept any crumbs you offered of yourself and he’d cherish them forever.

“What do I do now?” The question was barely audible, almost as if you were asking yourself more than you were asking him. The softness of your tone sent an ache through Frank’s tight chest.

“Stay tonight. Shower, eat, rest. We’ll figure out what happens next tomorrow, okay?”

You nodded but didn’t vocalize a response. When Frank looked over at you, he realized it was because you had begun crying again. The man hadn’t suffered enough, Frank thought. No amount of suffering would make up for the beautiful, broken girl crying in his truck right now.

Frank rested his head in his hands and listened. He listened to the sound of you moving around the bathroom, the sound of the shower starting, and the sound of you hissing as the water pelted the cuts and bruises littering your body. His jaw ached from clenching it so much tonight. He stood, looked around for something to keep his hands busy, adjusted the curtains by the window, and sat again.

The unfamiliar territory between the two of you was unnerving. He didn’t know what to say or how to act around you anymore. When you’d climbed down from the passenger seat earlier, he’d been so afraid to startle you that all he could do was hover his hands around you just in case you slipped or needed his help. He hadn’t felt your touch since he’d pressed the truck keys into your palm back at the house. It felt like reaching for something that was just out of range, and he felt hollow when he thought about it for too long. Hence, the nervous pacing.

When the shower water shut off, Frank’s stomach jolted. He couldn’t figure out why he was so nervous. It was you for Christ's sake. At one point, you’d been his best friend, and at every other point, you’d been the woman he had been in love with since the dawn of time. But still, the nerves were an unsettling wave of butterflies in his stomach.

You cracked the door open and heat from the shower washed over Frank like a tidal wave. Or maybe it was the fact that you were dressed from head to toe in his clothes. It didn’t make you his, but Frank loved the sight of it, all the same.

“Did you find everything?” Frank asked, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say, except that he loved you, and that would not be vocalized right now.

“Yeah, Frankie.” A small smile crossed your face when you met his gaze. He saw through your mask. You could not hide from him. “Thank you for...everything. You really didn’t have to do all this.”

Frank scoffed. “Of course, I did. I would do anything for you. You know that.”

“I didn’t.” you started, tugging at your sleeves, “Know that, I mean. When I called earlier tonight, I didn’t know what would happen. If you would come or not. After...everything that went down, you know?”

Frank knew what you meant, though he hadn’t wanted to revisit that memory tonight.

“Listen,” he started, shaking his head, “I didn’t mean any of the stuff I said to you. I was jealous and hurt, but that’s not an excuse.”

“It’s fine, Frank.” You waved it away, like it was nothing.

“No, really. I’m sor-”

“I forgave you as soon as-”

“Would you just let me apologize? Please?”

You smiled, a real genuine smile, and it sent those butterflies in Frank’s stomach into a flurry. It was the first time he’d seen you smile in so long. He couldn’t help himself from grinning along with you.

“Sorry.” You murmured, grin widening.

“That’s my line.” Frank retorted.

“Sorry, again.” You snorted, and the laughter that bubbled out of you sounded like a thirty-piece orchestra in Frank’s ears. He could get drunk off your laughter, relishing in the warmth it brought him.

When he looked at you again, a pained expression played on your face.

“What is it?” he asked, softening his voice into a gentle murmur.

“I can’t remember the last time I laughed.” You shrugged.

Frank clenched his jaw at the thought of your ex-boyfriend. He eyed the black and blue bruises that marked your skin.

“Was tonight the first time he hit you?”

Your gaze locked with his, and he couldn’t stop himself from inching closer to you. He lightly wrapped his hands around yours, and the brush of your skin against his lit a spark so deep within him that his knees nearly buckled. You hadn’t responded to his question, and he couldn’t figure out if that was for your sake or his.

“No one,” he hardened his features for a moment, a gentle reminder of who he was and what he would do to the people that hurt you, “will ever hurt you again. You hear me? I don’t care who it is. They touch you, they die.”

An unbending will burned in his gaze, and you slowly nodded your head. Finally, your gaze lowered to where your hands were intertwined, noticing the broken skin over his knuckles.

“Did you kill him?” You asked, voice so soft Frank had to strain his neck to hear you.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” He replied, tugging his hands away from yours. Your delicate, intrinsic softness would not be subjected to his violent exploits. You tugged his hands back toward you, eyeing him with a harsh glare.

“Don’t pull away.” You pleaded. “Just this once.”

Frank warily placed his hands back into yours. The stark difference between his calloused, bruised, and ugly hands and your soft, innocent ones could’ve been a baroque painting. The thought jolted through him before he could stop it from forming. He did not want to taint your innocence with his blood-soaked hands.

“Stop that.” You chastised, eyeing him knowingly. You had always been so great at reading what he was thinking. “You are capable of more than just violence, Frank Castle. And you saved my life tonight. You deserve everything you’ve ever wished for.”

Frank lifted his gaze at your last sentence, unable to stop his eyes from wandering toward the person he’d always wished for but was too chicken to do anything about.

“What’s that look mean?” You asked, knowingly.

This was dangerous territory. You were towing a line that you and Frank had circled around since you’d met each other. Would tonight be another ‘almost’ to add to his endless cycle of memories with you? This was dangerous territory, but Frank didn't care anymore.

“You know what it means.” He murmured, swallowing thickly. “What it’s always meant.”

You didn’t reply for a moment, watching his expression morph from despair to something different, something heavier.

“Yeah.” You finally said, inching your body closer to his. You were so close now that your chests were touching, and your lips were mere inches apart. “I know.”

“Yeah?” He asked. He was so close now that he could smell the faint scent of his body wash on your skin.

“Yeah.” Your chin dipped in a nod, and Frank was there to meet it.

His lips captured yours in a kiss that melted away every bad thing that had ever happened between the two of you. You moaned into the kiss, allowing his tongue to brush over yours and into your mouth. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you fully against him.

It might’ve been ten minutes or two hours – you didn’t know or care – but the kiss deepened, and suddenly you were pulling Frank’s shirt up his torso and over his head. He gently led you backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed and you flopped down, pulling him down with you.

Your lips remained connected as he undressed you, pulling every article of clothing from your body at an agonizing pace. When he finally pulled away to unbutton his jeans, the sight of yellowing bruises across your stomach paused his movements.

“Not the first time, then?” He lightly brushed his fingers over the old bruises. The sight of them made him sick.

“No.” You replied, voice soft. “Not the first time.”

Frank sighed deeply, reminding himself that you were no longer in danger. He had saved you, and no one would ever touch you again.

“Why’d you call me tonight?” He asked. It was a nagging question that had been bouncing around in his head since his phone had first rung so many hours before. There was probably a better time to ask, but he couldn’t help himself. If he’d been hitting you for this long, why’d it take you so long to call him for help?

You looked up at him with such immense sadness that his chest reflectively tightened in response.

“Because I missed you.” Your voice cracked when you said it. “And because I love you. And because I knew you’d keep me safe, even if you were still mad at me.”

Frank looked down at you, unflinching in his gaze, and nodded. He was afraid if he spoke, he might let out the guttural sob that had formed deep in his stomach. He surged forward, pressing his lips to yours again.

It was a hurried flurry of movement – the kiss had quickly developed into something more – and soon, Frank was pushing himself in, and in, and in to your core. You were warm and wet, and Frank was fighting for his life as you stretched around his hard cock. When he finally began thrusting deep inside of you, the only coherent thought that he could muster were the three words he had been so terrified to say to you all these years.

“I love you.” He said as he thrusted into you. “I’ll always protect you. I love you so much.”

You widened your legs, allowing him to thrust even deeper into you. He chanted your name like a mantra under his breath as he continued to drive himself into you. The look on your face was so incredibly intense that he had to shut his eyes for a moment and block out the feeling of your wet cunt clenching around his cock. A soft hand pressed against his cheek startled his eyes open.

“You’re mine. And I’m yours.” You murmured, and it undid you both. Frank could barely hold himself above you, arms wobbling as he came so deep inside you that he was sure no one had ever coated your walls so thoroughly. You clenched around him, and it was dizzying. He’d never felt so full after giving all of himself away to someone.

He collapsed next to you, cradling your head in his hands as you both returned to Earth. The sun crept across the room as the rest of New York woke for the day, unaware that Frank Castle’s entire world had just shifted in his tiny apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. He gazed at your fluttering eyelids, close to sleep now that the events of the night had caught up to you. He didn’t mind. You were here, and he was holding you in his arms, and you were his, and he was yours, and he didn’t mind it one bit.

Tag List:

@xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @mymamalife @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @fightmilk @spikedhe4rt @fictional-hooman @merleisapartygod @babyslyth @legocity2 @quackson03 @certifiedhunter @deliciousfestsalad @dumb-fawkin-bitch @americaarse @thatgirljayy @hiyabyeyababy @theesexystallion @scoliobean @myguiltypleasures21 @dnxgma @evyiione @gpenguin666 @desert-fern @day-dreaming-goddess @rayray787 @megmastersgf @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout @blep--bloop @kpopgirlbtssvt

714 notes · View notes

bits-and-babs · 1 year

Note

☁️ - #15 with Frank Castle (👀)

“𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐲𝐞-𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭?”

pairing: Frank Castle x f!Reader

warnings: dirty talk, oral (m receiving).

frank masterlist I| main masterlist |I follower celebration I| ask

The flowers lay on the table, still neatly arranged in their brown paper wrap, and the bottle of your favourite wine that Frank had brought back from the store stands guard.

You want to thank him, want to show your appreciation for his thoughtful gifts- but you can’t drag your eyes from him. The rain beating against the window pane had drenched Frank on his way back home, his hair slicked back with the weight of the water it had absorbed. He looks handsome like this, cheeks and nose flushed pink from the cold.

Frank smirks to himself, eyes glancing to the ceiling as he shucks off his soaked jacket, neatly tucking it over the radiator he had used to warm his frozen hands.

“Are you going to eye-fuck me all night or are you going to do somethin’ about it?” He sounds smug, glancing over his shoulder at you and arching his brow in question.

You swallow thickly, chest seizing with his straightforward question. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking his head slightly- that self-satisfied body language only adding further to the need you feel settling between your thighs.

“‘m gonna do something about it,” you insist shyly, stepping away from the kitchen island to approach him.

“Yeah?” He smirks, enjoying your nervous energy as you pad across the floor. “What’cha gonna do?”

It’s his turn to stumble over his words when you slowly sink down to your knees, his eyes following your body to the floor as you reach up to undo his belt. You pull his cock out from his jeans, half-hard already with your sudden seizure of control.

“Oh-“ he mumbles, eyes rolling back as you settle the weight of him on your tongue. “Oh-!”

582 notes · View notes

chrisevansredbelt · 2 years

Text

Love Thy Neighbour

pairing: neighbour!frank castle x reader,,, maybe a little bit of dbf!frank castle idk however you want to interpret it.

warnings: SMUT. piv sex. oral (f receiving). on the hood of a car :0. urmmm like getting caught kink? is that even a thing? it’s a close call. reader is kinda naive, kinda not? tit worship as well :P

summary: your father told you to ask your handy neighbour with your car. how ever can you repay him for his service?

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

You end the phone call with your Dad after saying goodbye, before staring over at the house across the street. You didn’t even know if he was home.

You look back at your car then back to the house. Natasha’s party starts in a few hours and you were just going to get there early to help set up, so you weren’t in any rush… but you had to get there one way or another.

So, with a heavy sigh and one final look to your car, you began making your way over to the house.

It was really only a few metres but the walk felt like forever. Why were you so scared? What’s the worst thing that could happen? Well, he could say no. No to helping you. Then what?

You guessed you would just have to wait and see, seeing as you’re already on his front porch.

You looked for a doorbell, frowning when you couldn’t find one because that meant it took more than just a push of a button to get this over with.

So with a raised fist, you knocked on the wooden door 5 times before stepping back.

You listened intently, it was quiet. So quiet that for a second you were a little pleased he wasn’t home and you were going to run back across the street and just catch an uber or something.

Until you heard heavy footsteps. Before you could even react or prepare yourself, the door was swinging open and you had to crane your neck a little to look at the man who was your neighbour.

He looked a little confused to see you- you’re not sure he knew who you were but nevertheless Frank softly smiled at you as you blinked up at him.

“Hi,” You begin, words getting lost in your throat at the sheer size of him. But you’re quick to remember the pressing matter at hand, “I’m Y/N, Y/D/N’s daughter- um- my car won’t start and he said you could maybe help?” You point your thumb behind you, gesturing to the car across the street, tucked away in your open garage. Frank peeks over your head to glance at it, still not saying a word and you quickly add, “But if you’re busy, it’s no problem, I can just-“

He shakes his head. Oh God, he really is saying no. “Nah, I can take a look at it, sweetheart.” You don’t know what relived you more- him telling you he could help or him calling you sweetheart. You smile in relief, shoulders visibly relaxing as he exits the threshold of his door, shutting it behind him, “Don’t know how much help I’ll be but we can work it out.”

“Thank you.” You smile up at him gratefully before leading him across the street to your car.

“Check engine light wasn’t on, was it?” He asks with a light laugh, filling the small silence as you walk side by side now.

You shake your head, “No, and I filled it up the other day.”

He just nods comprehensively, before turning to you then as he continues to walk towards your car, “You need to go to work or something, I can give you a ride if you’re gonna be late?”

You’re a little taken aback at his kindness at first, not expecting him to be so generous, “Oh, no, I just needed to go to a friends house, but I can get there whenever.” You wave him off, finally reaching the garage, “Thank you, though. That’s so kind.”

He just smiles at you in response before rounding your car. You cross your arms over your chest to shield you from the cool breeze that sweeps through the open garage door, your skin-tight, thin dress doing little to provide you any warmth, despite it going down to your ankles and being long sleeved. [im picturing that one skims dress]

“Nice car.” Frank compliments, lifting up the hood and hooking it up so that it stays open, “Buy it yourself?”

“No, uh, my Dad bought it for me.” You answer coyly, knowing full well the kind of reaction you would get from your answer.

Frank raises his eyebrows as everyone else does, but his face isn’t as judgemental- if anything it’s more… expected as he takes in your current figure. Dressed up, hair and makeup done, acrylic nails and white toenails- of course Daddy paid for your car.

“Your Dad got any tools around here?” He asks, unaware of his surroundings. You look behind you before moving to the side to reveal the big red tool box you had bought for him for his birthday a few years ago.

“Have at it.”

Frank retrieves a flashlight, the small bulb hanging from the ceiling doing very little to provide any sufficient light for Frank to see down the engine of your car.

You helplessly stand to the side as he’s head deep in the hood of your car. Though you can’t say you’re not entertained.

You’d be lying through your teeth if you said Frank wasn’t attractive. He was extremely.

He just had that build to him. And he was tan, and tall. He had a darling smile. He was sweet. And those hands- those veins- dipping into every crevice of your engine.

“I think there might be a faulty fuse.” Frank says suddenly, breaking you out of your trance.

You uncross your legs from one another, not even noticing how you had tightly crossed them to relieve the ache in your core just from staring at the man’s godly hands. But he did.

“Oh,” You nod dumbly, looking up at him through your lashes and hesitating before asking, “Can you fix it?”

“I think so.” He nods, handing you the torch, “Hold this for me?” You take the torch from his hand, grazing his rough, calloused palm in the process- oh, that would feel so good in your p-

Frank moves to the driver door, opening it and sitting down on the seat before looking under the steering wheel. You shyly follow him, shining the torch aimlessly before he’s gesturing for the torch.

“Right there.” His hand clasps yours and forces you to point the torch in the exact spot he needs. “Might be better if you get down on your knees.” He suggests and you ignore the innuendo of his words- it’s totally innocent and you just have a dirty mind! Stop it!

You get down on your knees, now glad your Dad took so much pride in this man cave of his so that the floor wouldn’t be as dirty to kneel on and dirty your dress.

And Frank was right, it was comfy here. So you sat back on your ankles as you shined the torch at an assortment of coloured tabs under your steering wheel.

Frank then stands a little out of his seat, reaching over to the toolbox behind you. You don’t dare look up, because from the reflection of the metal torch in your hand, you already see that if you were to do so, your face would probably be in direct line with his crotch- not that you would be complaining much but you wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable- not when he’s doing such a huge favour for you.

He places a small collection of tools on the ground in front of you and you assume he just needs those for later. He then sits back down in the seat, bending down to look at the coloured tabs before pulling on a green one and bringing it closer to his eyesight.

“Alright, pass me the Phillips head screwdriver, sweet?” He asks you, an awaiting hand at your eye-level.

You look from him down to the collection of tools in front of you and furrow your brows, “Uh…”

Frank raises a questioning brow, but is quick to smile down at you and help you out, “The one with the red handle.”

You blush, embarrassed, before picking up the screwdriver with the red handle and handing it to him, “Sorry.”

“No need to apologise, sweetheart.” He assures you, unscrewing the cover off of the box, “Daddy never taught you how to be useful with your hands?” He asks curiously and you shake your head up at him, “C’mere then.”

You oblige, shuffling forward on your knees, closer to where he’s currently working on your car.

Frank has to contain himself from pulling you up on his lap and fucking you raw- your position below him and your scoop necked dress giving him the perfect view of your tits as they bounce with every move you make to move closer to him.

He clears his throat then, passing you back the screwdriver and using the plastic tweezers to pull out the green fuse once more.

He places it in the palm of his hand, bringing it closer to you now, “See this little thing here?” He asks and you grab his hand softly to keep it still and close. You nod, “It should be connected, there shouldn’t be a gap there. That means it’s blown.” He explains thoroughly and you just nod.

“Did I blow it?” You ask, concerned.

Frank has to hide his immediate smile and the way his pants tighten. “Maybe.” He just says, “Do you use the radio, the AC and your headlights all at the same time?”

You look up at him guiltily, “Am I not supposed to?”

“Not really.” He chuckles with a shake of his head and you frown, “You probably just overloaded the system.” He says before standing to reach the tool box again, “Not to worry, look, your Dad knew this would happen.” He holds up a plastic box filled with different coloured things.

You scoot a bit closer as he places the box in his lap and opens it up. These must be like… replacements? Replacement… fuses?

“So you get the same green coloured one that we took out,” He holds up a new one from the box and you follow it with your eyes as he holds it up in front of you, “And put it in its place.” He uses the plastic tweezers to slot it back in place.

You then watch as he looks over a few more fuses, pulling them out and inspecting whether they too were blown. Only one other had been blown and it was a pink one.

So he let you try and replace the fuse yourself.

“It’s not gonna electrocute me?” You ask nervously, clammy hands taking the plastic tweezers from him.

He just laughs a little, shaking his head, “The cars not on, sugar.”

You blush, embarrassed. Frank blushes too, but more so because he’s flustered. He remained seated in the drivers seat while you attempted to change the fuse yourself- which left you on your knees, sort of bent over the floor of your car to access the fuse box. You pay no mind to the close proximity of your breasts grazing Franks leg, or your hair that falls over his thighs, or your ass that’s poking so high up into the air that Frank has to contain himself from smacking it.

With careful, nimble hands, you replace the fuse- it being a lot easier than you thought as it slid right in. You let out a breath of relief before smiling up at Frank, “I did it!”

“Good girl,” He praises and the butterflies in your stomach literally swarm up to your throat. It’s evident in the way your smile falters and Frank keeps that in the back of his mind. “Alright, keys?” He asks and you hand him your set of keys that were haphazardly placed atop the tool box.

You get to your feet now, leaning against the car door as Frank slots the key into the ignition and starts it up just fine.

Your whole face lights up at the sound and Frank shuts off the engine.

“Oh, thank you, oh my God.” You place a hand over your heart. Deep down, you knew that if you needed a new car, your Dad could just buy you a new one. But, you actually really liked this car- it was cute and had a sun roof. You were attached to it, basically and for it to be replaced would honestly break your heart.

Frank screws the lid of the fuse box back on before getting out and shutting the hood, explaining to you how to maintain your fuses. “If you’re using the aux, just open a window,” He lists, “If it’s night time, I don’t know, opt for a silent drive.”

“I will, I promise.” You nod. As he places back the tools into your Dads tool box, you really cannot help yourself as you stare at his veiny, tan arms. You’ve always had a thing for arms. Bucking up the courage from God knows where (probably the heat of your core), you place a delicate hand over his tricep, “Thank you for all your help-“ Your words get lost in your throat as his heads whips around at the contact of your hand, the way his eyes bore into yours spurring you on however- “Uh, is there anyway I can repay you?” You find yourself literally caressing his arm a little and even you are surprised at your boldness, “Anyway at all?”

He swallows a seemingly thick breath, glancing down at your hand before staring you down. It’s silent for a few seconds and you’re scared. Scared of either rejection or what you’ve just got yourself into, “I think you know.”

It’s your turn to swallow thickly now. You honestly feel like you’re dreaming- or you’ve been set up by some kind of porn company- because this is straight out of your fantasy.

Pulling yourself back to reality, you glance up at the busted old clock hanging in the middle of your garage wall. It’s a little past 3, and you’re Dad should be well on his way home by now.

You nervously glance back up at Frank, “Well, we better hurry because my Dad’s already finished work.”

Frank smiles at that, tilting his head, “I like a challenge.”

In an instant, he’s chucking his utensils back into the tool box with a loud clang, but the noise did you more good than harm as it concealed the moan that escaped your lips as he lifted you onto the hood of your car.

You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, hands flying to his shoulders in order to steady yourself.

His lips crashed against yours, so hard but so soft as he slowly eased his tongue into the kiss- so as not to scare you off. You could only return the kiss, albeit at a much slower pace as you tried to keep up with his own, very clearly experienced lips.

Lost in the kiss, though you were, the sound of bicycle bells ringing across the street broke you out of your daze momentarily, and it was then that you realized the garage door was still left wide open and if anyone looked hard enough- they would probably see you. You, the neighbourhoods favourite babysitter, on the hood of your car, kissing a man nearly twice your age.

You break away from the kiss then, grabbing onto Franks bicep as you peer behind you. His kisses don’t stop- instead resorting to your neck as you look away and grant him access to that area of your body, “The door.” You whimper as he suckles on that sweet spot of your neck.

Frank just laughs, hardly caring. He pulls away from your neck, grabbing your chin firmly with his rough hand and forcing you to look back at him as he softly pecks your lips, “Let ‘em see.” He mumbles against your lips and you furrow your brows up at him nervously, “Let ‘em know what a little whore you are.” You find yourself tightening your legs around his waist at his demeaning words, attempting to relieve the ache of your core and failing miserably.

As he trails his kisses the rest of the way down your neck and chest, he kneads the plumpness of your tits before all but exposing them out of the confines of your dress. He marvels at them for a few seconds and you gape down at the pure barity of yourself- but that feeling is long forgotten as he wraps his lips around your nipple.

You throw your head back, biting your lip to suppress the loud moan that would’ve escaped. Your hand then flies to the back of his head, fisting his short strands of hair.

When he removes himself, your short break doesn't last long as he goes straight for the other one- showing it the same amount of love. His hand caresses your thigh as he learns your left boob is much more sensitive then your right and it clearly showed from the way you let a small whimper escape your lips. He had smiled around your nipple when he heard the faint whine.

Once he's finished with your tits, his eyes fall to your clothed centre- that's been revealed by the way your dress hiked up around your waist. Your breath hitches in your throat as you prepare yourself.

As his hands slowly travel between your thighs, he goes back to kissing you to ease your nerves a little. Not that it helped much as you felt like jelly in his hold the closer he got to your pussy.

The moment his hand makes contact with your clit, despite the fabric of your panties still in the way, you still found it difficult to continue the kiss as he softly rubbed his fingers across the dampening cloth.

“So wet already.” He notes, “All for me?” He asks. You look up at him through your lashes, nodding weakly as he presses firmly against your swollen, begging bud. He seems satisfied at your answer, but there's something underlying under his gaze, “Am I the first one, sweetheart?” You tense up at his next question, avoiding his gaze for a few seconds before nervously looking up at him. He raises a brow at that, “No?” You shake your head to confirm your answer, his hand no longer pleasing your clit not going unnoticed, “So she’s not so innocent after all.” He hums and you whine at the loss of contact.

“Only twice.” You add, in hopes that it makes it any better.

It seems to, however, as he raises both his brows quizzically, “And did you cum?” He asks, resuming the soft stroke of his fingers against your clit.

You gasp softly, shaking your head, “Not as good as I do on my own.”

He chuckles heartily at that. His fingers then hook into the thin band of yoru panties, pulling them down your hips. You lift your ass up off the hood of the car to help him shed you of them as he pulls them the rest of the way down your legs.

He tucks them into the back pocket of his jeans before getting to his knees. Your heart picks up as he comes face to face with your heat. His own hands bring your legs around his shoulders and you find yourself leaning back against the hood of your car for a more comfortable position.

He kisses the innards of your thighs, exchanging between them the closer he gets. When he's close enough, he pulls back and kind of just stares down at your leaking entrance.

Wrapping his arms around your legs, he pulls your hips closer off the car. You stop breathing now, feeling his breath at your core with how close he is. He catches you by complete surprise as he licks one long stripe against your core and you’re shameless as you moan out loud.

He barely gives you any time to compose yourself as he wraps his lips around your bud, sucking harshly and slurping up your mixed juices that escape you. The sounds are unholy as he ravages your cunt- your back arches off of the hood of your car.

“Fuck, Frank-” You curse as he laps at you, spitting every so often as if you weren’t already dripping for him.

Without warning, he shoves two fingers inside your hole and you clench around him. He sets a fast pace from the beginning, the self-lubrication of your own cunt allowing him such.

You swear you see stars- or the gates of heaven as he finger fucks you and devours your pussy.

He curls his fingers at just the right angle, quickening his thrusts and flicking his tongue back and forth over your clit.

“I’m gonna-” You cut yourself off with a moan as he sucks at your clit once more, “Fuck!” You come apart completely, body tensing as you cum all over his fingers. He eases you through your orgasm, slowing his fingers and kissing your clit once. He watches in awe as your cum seeps around his fingers and once you’ve passed your orgasm, he cautiously pulls them out of your weeping cunt.

He stands to his full height now and you cream even more as he towers over you. Just as he goes to bring his fingers to his mouth, you catch hold of his wrist. He stares down at you, momentarily confused before you’re bringing them down to your own mouth.

You practically suck his fingers clean of your own juices, moaning around his thick digits before releasing them with a pop and swallowing. The sheer pace of Frank’s hands undoing his own belt and pants were merely record breaking as his cock could no longer take not being buried deep inside you. Plus, your Dad’s arrival was still at the back of his mind.

You gape down at his cock and its size, the leaking tip making you extra nervous. But you’re barely given any time to prepare before hes shoving it deep inside you.

You both moan ceremoniously. His sheer size practically impaling you and your tightens suffocating him- both in the best way possible. He thrusts his hips into yours, your car moving with you as he fucks his cock into you.

You clench around him uncontrollably, still yet to fathom his size.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He grunts and all you can do is whimper in response.

He stops for a second to lift your leg and rest your foot over his shoulder, before resuming with an even more ruthless pace now that he can reach deeper inside you.

Pain turning into pleasure, you find the strength to bring your hand down to your clit and rub the little bud to further reach your peak. Frank can only smile down at your desperation, doing his best to fuck harder into you to get you there.

“You gonna cum again?” He asks and you nod, “Yeah? Want me to cum inside you?” You nod faster and clench around him.

That’s the only confirmation Frank needs to fuck you harder to reach his own orgasm. Pulling your leg of his shoulder and throwing it back around his waist, he pulls you up off the car, flush against his chest as he stands. You tighten your legs around his waist then, clutching his shoulders for dear life as he carries you.

He bounces you and up and down his cock before you take a bit of control, using your core strength to grind yourself on his cock. Your clit rubs against his abs, his shirt having hiked up his stomach enough for you to do so and you squeeze your eyes closed at the pleasure it gives you.

You feel Frank twitch inside you and before you can even react, you feel the warmth of his seed spilling inside you. He breathes heavily against your ear, lazily kissing underneath it as he comes undone inside you.

You guide him through his high just like he did you- except you’re a little selfish in that its mostly to get you to reach your own orgams. The only problem being, you’re getting a little tired, muscles aching from forcing yourself up and down his cock in mid air practically.

Luckily, Frank notices your slight struggle and quickly places you back down on the hood of your car where he fucks you until you’re creaming around his cock.

You sigh blissfully as he stills inside you. But the moment is very short-lived as you hear the familiar sound of your Dad’s car approaching.

Your wide eyes up at Frank tells him everything he needs to know before he’s painfully pulling out of you and stuffing himself back into his pants.

You pull your dress down over your legs and the top part back over your tits as you get off the hood of the car- uncaring to the cum that leaks down your thigh as you stand.

Frank quickly does his belt (almost as fast as he undid it) before he quickly tucks your panties deeper into his back pocket.

You both stand side by side as your Dad’s car comes into view up your driveway. He smiles at the sight of you and you and Frank both offer totally innocent waves.

“Hey!” Your Dad laughs, getting out of the car, “Not busted is it?” He asks Frank as you stand with your hands clasped together in front of you.

“Just a blown fuse.” Frank tells him.

“How much do I owe ya’?” Your Dad jokes and you have to refrain from rolling your eyes.

Frank just chuckles, eyeing you as your Dad takes a look at your fuse box, “That won’t be necessary.” He ‘jokes’ back, winking at you and you have to bite your lip and look to the floor to avoid exposing yourself.

Who knew having a neighbour who was good with his hands could be so useful?

And what is it they say in the bible? Love thy neighbour? Something like that? Don’t mind if I do.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

DGEIGDKBEDISUSJKS

anyways

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle x you #frank castle fic #frank castle imagine #the punisher #the punisher smut #the punisher x reader #the punisher x y/n #Jon Bernthal

2K notes · View notes

bubuslutty · 1 year

Text

Frankie loves his girl

pairing: Frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 843 words

tags: nsfw brain rot, p in v, male receiving, female receiving, size difference, stomach bulge, possessive frankie, obsessive frankie, he loves his girl very much, clothed sex, blowjobs, car sex, reader is mostly refered to as 'his girl' or pet names such as darling & angel, use of the words pussy and cock, Frank spits in her mouth heh & other nasty tags okay

warnings: under 18s pls dni, overuse of the word 'love', I wrote this on my phone so I'm sorry for any mistakes, English isn't my first language as well. also this is my first fic posted on tumblr. pls be nice :(

summary: Frank loves his girl very much. He loves her mind and heart, but also her cute ass and sweet pussy.

Frank's the type to live in a cottage, maybe in the woods, with his girl. He's the type of man that would wake up early, kiss his sleeping baby and go walk around the property, checking everything just to make sure nothing happened overnight.

Frank knows they're safe, he made sure of it, getting rid of anyone who'd hurt his girl and their peace.

But he still has to do it, his little daily morning walk, to ease his soul.

Yeah, he's protecting his girl, she's safe because of him, happy because of him, and that makes him unbelievably happy, knowing she can sleep as much as she can, without having to worry about a thing.

Oh, how much he loves his girl.

She's his girl. Even thinking about it gives him butterflies and a hard cock. She's his, and nothing has sounded so good before.

He loves her so so much. He loves her smart words, her creative mind and her heart.

He's so in love with how she speaks to him, how she isn't scared of teasing him, of playing with him and being a little bratty. She's so smart and fun and beautiful in every sense.

Frank loves her mouth, her plush lips and tongue, he loves that he gets to kiss her everyday, loves that he gets to spit in her mouth and watch her eyes get all glazed over.

Frank loves her hands, loves holding them and kissing them. He loves it when she gives him back scratches, when they're lounging on the couch. He loves her hands when they're wrapped around his hard cock. And Frank's big, he's big. And every time his angel has her hands around him, the size difference makes him breathless, makes him cum almost instantly.

He loves her soft skin, running his rough hands all over her soft body. Her breasts, stomach, back, ass, thighs, neck, everywhere. He's obsessed and starved every time he lays his eyes on her.

It's embarrassing really, how every time he looks at her, his body reminds him of the nights and days he spent between her legs, either dick, hand or face buried inside of her sweet pussy.

And she's so wet, always so wet for him. Her thighs sticky and her pussy dripping for him.

She doesn't even wear panties that much anymore when he's around. Sometimes it's thigh length summer dresses with cardigans, tight cropped shirts and short shorts that would expose the bottom of her ass when she stretches, barely decent enough to wear out in public.

All she wears is clothes that Frank can easily take off, slide his hands in to wander on her skin and grope her. And even if she wore something hard to take off, they both know he wouldn't hesitate to rip it off.

Fuck clothes, he wants to see his girl naked and pretty under him.

His girl is beautiful no matter what she wears or looks like. Frank loves her in anything and everything. But he does have preferences, after all, he's just a man.

He likes her in just one of his t-shirts, with absolutely nothing underneath. He loves her wrapped in his coat, wearing a stupidly tight t-shirt and shorts underneath. He likes seeing his girl show off her body for him. Especially when nobody else is around to look at what is his.

He loves fucking her while she's wearing one of those stupid tight white t-shirts she likes to wear, the cropped ones, that leave her stomach naked, with no bra underneath. Her sweat, and his sweat would make the fabric obscenely see through, making her nipples visible. And if he's feeling in a certain mood, he might just cum on her chest, over her t-shirt and on the lower half of her face while his girl is crying and cock drunk.

Frank loves shoving his hands in her shorts, through one of the leg holes, groping her ass and squeezing. You see, he's a possessive fucker and he likes to touch, a lot.

He loves feeling her shake and throb, clench and shiver. He likes to see her beg for his cock and try to swallow him while being all messy on his lap, his balls wet from her saliva. He loves it when she grinds her sweet little ass against his crotch, smiling coyly up at him. He loves folding her while he fucks her to the point of passing out, so hard that he'd be able to see her tummy bulge from the size of his cock.

He loves having her on his lap, in his truck, holding onto the hat he placed on her head while riding him, moaning and babbling nonsense while his cock is splitting her in half. Shorts thrown at the back and panties held in one of his hands.

Frank loves his girl and her sweet pussy very much. And he'd kill anyone with his bare hands if they try to take her away from him <3

620 notes · View notes

thequeenofuselessinformation · 2 years

Text

Did it on em

2K notes · View notes

eddiesbug · 2 years

Text

eager [f.castle]

summary: you come home to your boyfriend hammered and clingy. secrets are revealed.

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

fandom: mcu

word count: 1347

warnings: reader throws up, literally all fluff n loving, frank being the bestest<33, touch starved reader, a little talk about reader punishing herself, frank uses all the good pet names😋 and he cooks!!

note: i’m back from being banned😭🤭 i had so much fun n i’m so proud of this so if anyone is mean I WILL CRY. and i’m sorry there’s no readmore line again but tumblr is all buggy and deleting bits every time i put one in:((

“Fr-Frankie!” Your voice slurs as you worm your way into Frank’s lap, your head lolling with the effects of the alcohol. Your mini dress rides up as you climb and he presses his fingers into the soft curve of your hip, drawing you in. You settle into him with a smile.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he chuckles. He didn’t know what exactly to expect when you came home hammered at 2am, but it wasn’t this. You’re not overly fond of affection at the best of times, pretty much avoiding contact altogether, so for you to be initiating this at all, zero coaxing involved, is strange.

“I missed you,” you giggle, craning into him as he pushes the hair from your sweaty face. A hum rips from your throat and you hook your arms underneath his on the sofa. He brushes his nose across your jaw.

“I missed you too, baby. You feelin’ alright?” he asks, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead; you’re hot to the touch. You nod, pressing your nose to the juncture of his neck and inhaling; you’re met with the scent of slight sweat and the last tinge of cologne from the previous day.

“So pretty…” you say, your hand reaching out to stroke Frank’s face in bewilderment.

“Hm?”

“You.”

“I’m pretty?” he laughs.

“The pr-pre-prettiest.” Your words start to merge into one and he shushes you, soft lips grazing your temple.

“My girl is prettier,” he answers, voice dripping with sincerity. You frown, head shooting up to meet his eyes.

“Who’s your girl?” you ask, the beginnings of tears getting stuck in your throat. In your inebriated state, you have honestly forgotten that Frank is your boyfriend. “I’m- I’m gonna f-fight her.”

“What’re you gonna cry for, baby? I’m talkin’ ‘bout you.” He keeps his tone light, cupping the back of your head with his calloused hand.

“Oh.”

“Silly thing. Why would I want anyone but you?”

“‘Cause I never wanna cuddle,” you pout. He shakes his head.

“I don’t care about that. Sure, it’s nice to cuddle, but I want you to be happy most of all.”

“Can I tell you a sec-secret?” you whisper, although it’s comically loud - almost louder than your normal speaking voice. You hiccup, pestering your way further into his lap.

“Yeah?”

“I always wanna cuddle.”

“That so?”

“Y-yeah. Scared you’ll get annoyed so I don’t say anythin’. Wait for you to ask.” His expression softens and he kisses your head. He never realised that you might be depriving yourself of touch to punish yourself, or worse, because you thought you’d be irritating him. He can’t get enough of you.

“Oh, baby. My baby.” Drawing you closer, his body engulfs yours completely; you mumble something halfheartedly, curling into him. Everything seems to shake ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly and you’re sure Frank doesn’t notice. He catches your expression, brow furrowing. His closeness has you breaking into a full body flush. “You’re shaking, darlin’.”

“Jus’ don’t let go of me,” you whisper, pressing your face to his chest.

“Alright, ‘ve got you.”

You stay like that for a while, cradled in his arms, eyes closed, until your stomach lurches uneasily. You blanch, dry heaving.

“Frankie…”

“Mm.”

“Gonna be sick.” You retch, trying to scramble free of Frank’s grasp and run to the bathroom. Instead, he lifts you with virtually no effort, sitting you in front of the toilet and gathering your hair at the nape of your neck just in time for you to start emptying your stomach contents. He soothes you with the softest voice, kissing the back of your neck and whispering encouraging words despite how disgusting you must look right now.

“Attagirl,” he murmurs, “What a good girl.” Your eyes flutter closed and you slump against the toilet seat, breathing heavily. He immediately lifts you, flushing the vomit away and closing the seat; just that helps the nausea ebb away as the seconds pass. He perches you on the seat, wiping your sweaty face with a cold cloth and grabbing the toothbrush you keep at his apartment at all times. He spreads a little toothpaste over the bristles, parting your lips with his thumb and brushing them gently.

“Good girl, let’s rinse your mouth,” he coos; you oblige without thinking, letting him hold you up by the waist and wipe your face with a towel. Your body goes completely lax and he cushions your head with his shoulder, handling you as though you’ll break at any second.

“Love you,” you mumble, hooking your legs around his waist as he hoists you into his arms. He makes for the kitchen with you securely in his hold.

“I love you too. You feel a bit better now?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s get you some water and something to eat, pretty.”

“‘m not hungry!” you squeak, hiccuping drunkenly, although you’re considerably less plastered than when you got home.

“You don’t have to eat it, but it might help soak up some of the alcohol, alright?”

“‘kay…” you trail off, worrying your lip between your teeth.

“What you thinkin’ about, hm?”

“Nothin’.”

“I can hear the gears turning. C’mon, out with it.” He kneads your side with sympathetic fingers, squeezing and releasing, squeeze, release.

“‘s it okay if I wanna touch more? Like cuddle ‘nd hold your hand?” Your voice is a fragment of its usual volume and you wince, preparing yourself for the rejection before he even has time to react.

“How could I say no to that, hm?” The relief at his statement is palpable. “If you wanna hang onto me forever like a little koala bear, I wouldn’t say no to you. You know that, baby. I want you to have everythin’ you’ve ever wanted.”

“Jus’ want you,” you murmur, peppering a trail of kisses over his face and neck. “Love you so much.”

“C’mon, my pretty. Whatcha fancy to eat?” He smiles, setting you down on a stool, hands out to catch you should you wobble tipsily. Once he’s sure you’re steady, he moves to the fridge. “How about some eggs?” You shake your head, nose scrunched.

“They make me feel sicky.”

“Alright, darlin’. How about pasta?”

“Pasta sounds good, Frankie.”

“Pasta it is, baby.”

You admire him shamelessly as he busies himself with your meal, ogling his thick biceps and his sharp jawline. The black t-shirt he wears hugs him just right, exposing his muscular physique to you.

“You enjoying the show, darlin’?” he drawls amusedly, sending you a cheeky wink. You flush, averting your eyes.

“Sorry.”

“C’mere, pretty girl.” His arms open and you wobble off of the stool and into his embrace. The affection, still so abnormal to you, makes you tremble.

“I’ve gotcha, baby. Not lettin’ you go anytime soon.”

Finally, when he’s finished making the pasta, something you never thought someone would do for you, let alone at half past two in the morning, he sets it onto the table and sits down, inviting you into his lap. You clamber onto him, hands roaming his chest. You’re eager to feel his skin on yours, fingers splayed over his throat and under his t-shirt. This new found appreciation for his touch has made you greedy and Frank is in heaven.

“Should’a gotten you drunk sooner if I knew you’d be this needy, baby.” He beams at you, dotting kisses over the entire expanse of your face. With his free hand, he spears a piece of pasta with a fork and lifts it to your lips. “Here, darlin’.” You take it gratefully, humming.

“‘s good!”

“Attagirl.”

You eat in silence until you’re full, pushing the bowl away and curling your body into Frank’s.

“Sorry I kept you up.”

“I couldn’t sleep without my girl anyway.”

You giggle; the lilting sound compels Frank to kiss you, his lips melding against yours like a puzzle piece.

Before he can find it in himself to move you, you’re fast asleep against his shoulder, snoring softly with your arms underneath his t-shirt, cool against his warm skin. You cling to him even as you sleep soundly.

2K notes · View notes

komotionlessqueenmm · 4 days

Text

Imagine # 1,060

Picture NOT mine.

Year posted - 2024

Rating - SFW

Reading time (Roughly) - 12 minutes

This one was actually a request, which I don't typically do, but sometimes I simply can't resist!

Tag(s) - @rishdrago

With a tired sigh (Y/n) sat the last of her groceries onto the counter in her kitchen. It was another long day at work, with another grueling case coming to a close. While she loves her job, sometimes it really takes a toll on her. But now at home all she needs to worry about is putting away her groceries, and making a quick dinner. Easy enough. If it wasn't for the sound of a floorboard creaking in the hallway that set her into fight or flight mode.

Spinning on her heel in an instant, she unholstered her pistol and aimed at the doorway to the hallway. "You really messed up you know, but if you know what's good for you, you'll come into the light nice and slow. Otherwise you're gonna leave my house in an ambulance, or a body bag." (Y/n) called out to the would be intruder, bracing herself for a potential firefight. But when the intruder rounded the corner, and came into sight, she nearly dropped her gun. "Frank?" She breathed out in a whisper, her arms falling to her sides. "Frank's dead." He muttered mournfully. "You look pretty fucking alive to me." She sassed as she holstered her pistol, knowing deep down that she could still trust Frank with her life.

The behemoth of a man simply shrugged his shoulders, taking a small first step into the room, as if he was testing the water. "What are you doing here?" She asked turning back to her groceries, while letting him come into the room at his own pace. "I killed Gianni Franco." He stated as he walked up to the other side of the counter, leaving the space between them to prove he meant her no harm. "Trust me Frank, I am well aware of that. You do realize I'm still a detective right? And I'm still friends with Jake you know, so I'm the one he goes to, to vent about you." She glanced his way, trying to get a read of his reaction to her words.

He seemed unbothered, which really didn't surprise her. "I'm sorry." Now that surprised her. Setting the box of noodles down, she turned her full attention to Frank. "Why are you apologizing to me? I'm not the one you should apologize to." She pointed out, but Frank didn't seem bothered, as he casually scratched at the scruff on his face. "Frank why are you here?" She asked now standing across from him at the counter, looking into his eyes which once swirled with so much life. "I don't know... I'm not exactly sure what to do now." He admitted.

"Jake would tell you to turn yourself in." (Y/n) mused with a small smile, her words making him chuckle softly under his breath, a sound she had missed more than she ever realized until now. "That's why I came to you." He admitted, now leaning against the counter. "I knew you wouldn't arrest me on the spot like Jake, and I could just talk to you." Frank admitted with a small smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Well that's where me and Jake are different, I actually believe you're doing the world good by killing those guys. People like that have to much money and power for us to touch, and we could use a vigilante to even out the odds." She hummed as she grabbed a beer from the fridge, sliding it across the counter to Frank, who took it with a small mutter of thanks. "I knew you'd feel that way." He said before sipping his beer. "Then why didn't you come to me sooner?" She asked as she leaned again the counter.

"Because I don't want you trying to join me." He stated matter-of-factly, making (Y/n) chuckle softly. "That's fair I guess, but what's changed? Why come to me now?" She pried, hoping he would open up to her. "I had a dream about you last night." His words stuck a cord in (Y/n)'s heart, one she didn't realize was still there until now. "A dream?" She played off her nerves like a natural, making her glad she was trained to hide her true emotions, in order to effectively interrogate suspects.

"It started as a nightmare, I was reliving their deaths." She knew he was referring to his family, so she didn't pry for clarification, knowing it only hurt him to talk about them. "But before I could wake up, you appeared from the shadows. You didn't say anything, you just..." He trailed off as he stared at his beer. "You just pulled me into a hug, and held me while I cried for them." (Y/n)'s heart broke at his admittance, she knew he hated showing vulnerably before he lost his family, let alone now that he's The Punisher.

"It made me realize how much I've missed you, and I also realized I can't keep doing this alone, I can't keep being alone." He looked up to her, his eyes ever so glossy. "I know Julie would want me to move on, to come to terms with what happened. But I couldn't do that while the Franco's were still alive and free." He sipped his beer. "But now... Now I need help getting through this, and you're the only one that can help me (Y/n)." Frank wanted to hold her hand as he spoke, but he resisted the urge.

"I'll always be here for you Frank." She assured him, her words pulling a genuine smile from him. "How about I make us some dinner, and we can figure out where to go from there." She offered, smiling when he nodded in agreement. "You should stay here tonight, get a shower and have some normalcy for a change." She added. "Are you trying to say I smell bad?" He asked with a playful smirk.

"Frank dear I've been holding my breath this entire time." (Y/n) joked, making him roll his eyes, despite his smile. "Still a smartass I see." He huffed. "You wouldn't have it any other way." She sassed before pointing to the hallway. "You still remember where the guestroom is." She added, smiling when he nodded and walked off to take a shower while she cooked dinner.

"Well what are you planning on doing now that you've dealt with the Franco family?" (Y/n) asked before she finished off the last bite of her dinner. "There are still people who are not punished by the justice system." Frank stated having finished his dinner long before she had. "Are you planning on doing to them what you did to the Franco's?" She asked. "Only to those who deserve it." Frank clarified, setting (Y/n)'s mind at ease.

"I'm glad you've come to me Frank, but I'm unbelievably exhausted, and I need to get some sleep." She rose from her seat, picking up her plate, and moving to grab his. Frank took her plate, and grabbed his own. "I'll deal with the dishes, go to bed, we can talk more in the morning." He insisted. "Okay thank you." She leaned over and pecked his temple like she used to as a quick thanks. "Oh and I forgot to ask, you didn't break any windows to get in did you?" She asked.

"No don't worry, I just picked the lock on the back door." He shrugged casually. "You still have that spare key I gave you don't you?" She arched a brow at him, and his faint smile gave him away. "Goodnight Frank." She called as she walked away into the hall. "Goodnight (Y/n)." He called back to her. When (Y/n) reached her bedroom, she began shedding off her clothes, in desperate need of a warm shower before going to bed.

As the water washed over her sore muscles, (Y/n)'s mind drifted to Frank. She'd been so torn up when he was declared dead, and mourned for him and his family for many months. They were a big part of her life, they were family to her. Even though deep down (Y/n) had loved Frank in a deeper more heart wrenching way. She knew it wasn't right, she knew that then, and even now she feels guilty for it.

She never acted on it, and never intended on trying to take him as her own. He was happy and he deserved the love he already had with Julie. Now things are different, but it still doesn't feel right, even if it's been over a year since she passed. He clearly still loved her, and (Y/n) wasn't going to make a fool of herself, and potentially push him away and loose him again. Still she couldn't deny the way her heart fluttered at the sight of him again, so much more gruff and rugged.

And knowing that he trusted her enough to come to her made her head spin. By the time she finished her shower, her eyes grew heavy with sleep. Her mind was still stuck on Frank, even as she crawled between the sheets. She wondered idly if he would still be here in the morning, or if he'd ever come back when he did leave. As she began drifting to sleep, she heard the sound of the guestroom door opening and closing. Telling her he was still here, and most likely would still be come morning.

(Y/n)'s sleep was dreamless and peaceful, which was better than she'd had in weeks. While Frank's dreams were chaotic and filled with memories that still hurt him oh so deeply. He dreamt of his children, of his wife, of the look of betrayal and hurt on Jakes face. Then he dreamt of (Y/n), and her never ending acceptance of the choices he's made. He felt at ease while he dreamt of her, his tense muscles relaxing as he dreamt of walking with her beside a lake.

She always had a way of putting him at ease, just by simply being there and listening to him vent whenever he needed it. He knew she meant more to him than just a friend, but he much like her, had never intended on exploring those feelings. But now after everything, despite knowing he's putting her in danger by coming around, Frank knows he needs her. He needs her help more than ever, and he knows deep down that Julie would understand.

When morning came Frank woke up to the smell of breakfast. Something he's missed more than he realized until now. In a bit of a groggy daze Frank wondered into the kitchen, dressed in the sleep clothes he found in the closet in the guestroom. "Mornin' bud." (Y/n) mused as she pushed a fresh cup of coffee his way. "Morning." He muttered as he slipped at the hot brew, slightly surprised she remembered how he likes his coffee.

"You want some breakfast?" She asked as she pulled two plates from the cupboard. "Please." He nodded his head in agreement. "Good because I made plenty." She mused with a smile, as she placed a plate in front of him. "I'm glad you're still here and you didn't slip away in the night." She added sincerely. "I half expected that last night would be the last time I'd ever see you." Her words cut him deeper than he would have expected, but he understood where she was coming from.

"Like I said, I need your help." Frank said earnestly. "Well then, what's the plan?" She asked as she sat beside him with her own plate. "I don't really have a plan, but for now I think we'll just take it one day at a time, and figure it all out." He shrugged. "Wow the Frank Castle doesn't have a plan, that's a first." (Y/n) joked, making him chuckle. "So are you planning on staying here?" She asked a few moments later. "No I don't want to put you at risk of being caught hiding a fugitive." He shook his head.

"I appreciate that." She hummed softly, having worried a bit about that last night. "I think it'll be best if I just come in the evenings when I need... Well a shoulder to lean on I guess." He said, picking at his food a little. "And when you need patched up I imagine." She added, trying to lighten the mood a bit, and Frank agreed with a small chuckle. "Yeah I'm sure I probably will come to you when I need patched up." He smiled at her before going back to eating his breakfast. "I'll be sure to stock up on some supplies." (Y/n) mused more to herself, than to Frank.

(Y/n)'s pager went off with a shrill beeping, signaling that it was time to get to work. Her partner letting her know they already had a new case to work on. "Well that's my queue, I've gotta get going. I'll see you later Frank, don't worry about the dishes, I'll deal with that when I get home." (Y/n) moved back into the kitchen, placing her half empty plate into the sink for now. "Hey (Y/n)." Frank called to her before she could rush off. "Yeah?" She asked, turning her attention to him. "Thank you, for everything." He stood from his seat, and crossed the room, pulling her into a hug. "You're welcome Frank." She hummed as she hugged him back, feeling as though she's already made a difference in his chaotic life.

Buy me a coffee sometime? ☕️

(Click the coffee for my Kofi link, IT'S NOT NECESSARY BTW.)

I honestly couldn't think of a better way of ending this one, but I hope it was satisfactory either way. I'm a little rusty, as I haven't consistently written in ages, so I apologize if it didn't turn out as good as you hoped. (゜-゜)

31 notes · View notes

grippingbeskar · 1 year

Text

bad shoulder

frank castle x fem!reader

warnings: adult content minors dni! (mxf, f receiving, nothing crazy) swearing, mentions of canon typical violence

a/n: this is dedicated to and requested by @lemon-world1 who’s birthday it was a few days ago IM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE but it is here! i hope you had an amazing day, and i really hope this is what you wanted!!!! sending so much love to you. its been a while since i just wrote a lil frank thing and damn i missed it okay bye.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You got a second?” Frank Castle’s familiar head pokes around the corner of your tent, traces of dried blood still caked in his short hair.

“Always for you.” You sing out, and he smiles, the sight sending warmth all the way through you. You turn to face him, and he isn’t shy about the way he looks you up and down, brown eyes trailing down your body before he remembers himself and focuses elsewhere. You always manage to get at least a little flustered when he comes in— especially when he’s all happy and smiling. He’s impossible not to want, and living on a base in the middle of a battlefield, there’s not a whole lot to do around here but sit and wait for him to show up.

It had been a long day, like it always was. You hadn’t even seen the sun rise before you were called in, soldiers that were never fully recovered still nursing old, aggravated injuries from whatever they’d been doing for the past 12 hours. From bad knees to wasted tendons and shattered bones, sometimes there wasn’t a lot you could do but make them as comfortable as possible and take away some of the pain, even if it was temporary.

Frank could come in and stand in the corner without saying a word and it’d make your day. It was stupid, but it was the truth. He just had that effect on you. It didn’t matter what time of the day it was, he just managed to surge adrenaline through you at the sight of him— you’d nearly forgotten your work the second he stepped in.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ve got a few things to finish up and then I can help you out.” He nods and thanks you again, and you busy yourself with papers you don’t remember pulling out, trying your hardest to slow your racing heart down to an acceptable rate.

When you turn back to him, he’s already taken his shirt off, sitting with his legs over the side of the table. He’s so tall his boots still plant firmly on the ground, and you know it’s ridiculous— you know, but there’s something about the way he’s just so big—

“Your shoulder still bothering you?” Your brain manages to form words that make sense, while your heart rate is still flying uncomfortably close to a heart attack as he shrugs his shoulders. He rolls them out, each muscle defined and contracting with the movement, and your hands clench at your sides.

“Yeah. Gotta carry some of the packs for the medic on our squad, but it’s fucking killing me.” He rolls his neck next, but with the movement he winces. His eyes squeeze shut and his whole body shudders— the sight switching you from a fumbling mess to a professional in an instance. You know Frank— if he’s coming to you for help, he must be in some serious pain.

“Can’t someone else take the weight? I could write a report, let the sargent know?” You move behind him, the definition of each muscle practically shimmering under the full light of your tent. You peek over his shoulder, and he angles his head just so you can see the genuine surprise in his face.

“You can do that?”

“I’m not just here to hang out with you, you know. I do have a job here.” You laugh, and you can see his body slump a little as he joins you.

“I didn’t mean it like that— but nah. It’s okay. Coopers still got that bug leg, so I just gotta get this fixed.” Typical of Frank, but you’d probably write the report up anyways. It wouldn’t hurt, and Frank would never admit to anyone but you that the pain was genuinely bothering him.

You were the only person he seemed to let himself be vulnerable with, show any kind of weakness with. You’d seen him around base, and knowing what a pissing contest it is out there, it didn’t surprise you that when he found a moment of peace, it didn’t take a a lot for him to open up. You try to tell yourself it’s because he doesn’t have to worry about showing you up like he does everyone else around here, but you can’t help the part of your mind that wanders to the possibility that he might just like your company. Finds it easy to trust you and let his guard down.

“I’m gonna touch you now, okay? Work the same place as last time?” Once you get confirmation, your hands drift over the familiar position, but as soon as you apply pressure he sucks in a sharp breath. “That hurts?”

“It’s fine.” He says through his teeth.

“You have to tell me if it hurts, Castle. Job, remember?” He laughs again, but you can tell he’s still pulling away from you. “It’s okay. We can work up to that. Tell me what happened today.”

“Same old. You know how it— oh, fuck.” He grunts when you dig your fingertips into a spot that you know is connected to his old injury. “How it is.”

“Lay down.” He moves slowly— too slow to be in any kind of working order. You try to take the pressure off his shoulder as he turns to lay face down, but he’s still holding himself up and favouring one side. When he’s finally flat, you start softly, kneading your hands in slow circles around the connecting muscles. You listen to the sounds he makes— low grunts of either pain or pleasure, but both of them send butterflies fluttering in your stomach like no one else.

You start to span your hands down his back, letting the palm of your hand apply more pressure the further away from his shoulder you get. He sighs deeply, and after a few minutes he’s gone pliant under your touch. His head rolls to one side when you drift your hands up to his neck, another low groan escaping from somewhere in his chest.

When he’s finally relaxed, you press further. You check in as your hands slide along the base of his shoulder blade, and you’re only met with a gruff keep goin’ before you return to your original spot. He sighs, shifting closer to your side of the table, and the warmth of his skin touching you in all kinds of places has you blinking rapidly, your vision starting to go fuzzy.

Keeping your mind on the task at hand, you manage to kill a few more minutes like this; gentle circles and soft touches before you decide he’s ready to move.

“You still with me?” You break the silence, and he just huffs like you’ve woken him up. He still moves slowly when he gets up, but there’s no pain there. No— he was just relaxed. Tired, probably, but relaxed. “It’s feeling better than last time. You’ve been doing those stretches I told you about?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Your hands return to his shoulder and apply more pressure. He leans into the touch, head falling forward and sighing again. You ignore how much the response made your head swim.

“Everyday?”

“Yes, ma’am.” God— he was gonna kill you.

“And no more of those sandbag throws, yeah? Or those weighted pull ups?” When you don’t get an answer, you shake him with your hands. “Hey. Don’t fall asleep.”

“M’not. I’m ignoring the question.” You laugh, your hands stilling on his shoulder as you feel the muscle movement ease entirely. “I gotta keep my reputation up, or the new guys get cocky.”

“God forbid— because you are the picture of humble.”

“Damn right.” He leans back slightly, his back brushing against your chest. He doesn’t move when he feels how close you are, and though your hands aren’t on him anymore and the session is clearly over, you don’t move either. “Missed seein’ you.”

“You don’t have to rip your shoulder out of its socket to come see me, you know.” He’s facing straight forward, but every word you say has him shuffling further and further back into you.

“You sayin’ you wanna see me outside here?” He says softly, his head turning ever so slightly towards your own.

“Maybe.” You want to take the words back as soon as you’ve said then, but then he surprises you by turning suddenly, looking you right in the eye.

Your heart stops. Time stops, practically. You know you shouldn’t do this. You need to draw a line in the sand, tell him to move back. To look forward. To leave, even. You were at work, and he was just a… well. He wasn’t just another client— and that was the fucking problem.

He was so close to you, every short breath he took was loud in your ear. You didn’t have to bend to be face to face with him, not with how straight he’s sitting and how fucking close he is. You were at the perfect height to indulge all those fantasies you shouldn’t have, should never act on but God did you want to.

He turns even more, rotating so his chest facing you and his nose brushes against your own. You can’t help the way your eyes flutter closed in anticipation— it was too late to pull away. He was too tempting and he was right there. So close to you, no longer at arms length, and so when he brings one gentle hand to the side of your face, you don’t even think about pulling away.

Your heartbeat was in your ears, sounds of the outside floating away until all you could hear was the pounding of your anxious heart and Franks low, shuddering inhale. Your eyes dare to flutter open for just half a second, and you can see his own flitting over your face— searching for something. Rejection, anticipation, something that he was looking for, but he either finds it or he doesn’t, because whatever it was is enough to have him leaning just a slight inch forward and pressing his mouth to yours.

It’s so slow you nearly faint. Adrenaline is coursing through your veins, and his other hand comes to your hip, drawing you in to press against his warm skin. His tongue glides along your bottom lip, and your mouth opens, wanting to drink him and this moment in as much as possible.

He tastes like dirt and blood, and it’s so fucking addicting that your tongue tangles with his for another taste. He kisses you softer than you imagined, like he’s waiting for you to pull away. You try to bend closer, your hands sliding up into his cropped hair and sealing his mouth to yours. The groan of approval you get is enough for him to lose a little bit of that control. He groans your name into your mouth, and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter. When he groans again your feet leave the ground, Frank hauling you up onto the small table in one swift movement, putting you on your knees next to him.

His mouth never leaves yours in the shuffle, hand tangled in your hair as he gets a little rougher— hungrier for a deeper kiss. The need makes your head spin, and his free hand hooks under your legs to pull you across him, your legs naturally falling to either side of his muscles thighs.

You moan instantly at the feeling, Frank pushing your hips down to connect with his own. Your arms hook lazily around his neck, his own roaming from your hips up and down your sides. He’s languid with the movements, content to take his time to feel your body, fingers slipping under your shirt where goosebumps follow in his wake wherever he touches you.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans into you, and you shudder when his hips buck upwards. It’s almost like he’s encouraging it, wanting you to use him like this, hearing the way your breathless moans get higher and higher every-time he does it. “You like that?”

You can’t form a reply, just nodding as your head rolls to the side. His lips drop down, scorching heat under your jaw and down your neck. You can feel the cool kiss of his teeth as they drag lightly against your pulse point, and at the same time Frank grinds his hips up again. The sensation hits you like a truck, and you’re sighing out his name like a song in the next second.

“Oh, Frank.” You bury your head in the crook of his neck, and he hums in response and repeats the movement. He knows just where to roll your hips, the rough fabric of his pants creating the perfect friction, and a few more minutes like this and you’d be cu—

Three loud knocks on the door nearly make you scream in surprise and frustration.

“Hey, you in there? Any chance you got a couple minutes before rollcall? Need you to work your magic on this knee.” Fucking hell. You knew that voice, and it wasn’t one you could dismiss.

You were panting so hard you couldn’t reply right away, and Frank was just staring at you. His eyes were blown wide— not even blinking as he gripped the side of the table, knuckles white with restraint.

“Y-yep! Just a sec!” You scramble, trying to put yourself back together while Frank sits there, unmoving. You manage to get behind him, throwing Franks shirt at him just before the officer walks in and gets an eyeful of Franks painfully obvious boner. “Colonel Fields! I’m just finishing up with Castle, then I can help you out.”

“Sounds good.” The older man walks into the room, taking a seat in your office chair and nodding at Frank. “Lieutenant.”

You seem to have found your footing a little quicker than Frank, jabbing him in the back to prompt a fucking reply.

“C-Colonel. Ow.” He sucks in a breath as you dig your hands into his lower back pretending to do something productive, but then he sighs and drops his head when you ease up.

He’s as taut as ever, but you go easy on him considering what just happened. What… what did just happen? One second you were joking with him, laughing like friends, and the next you were kissing him. More than that— fuck, you probably would have let him have you right here on the table if he had kept going.

There’s another low, drawn out groan from Frank, and the sound has you pressing your thighs together. It’s the same one he breathed through your kiss when you were on top of him— and from the pained grunt that follows it, he’s remembering it too.

“You alright there, Lieutenant?” Colonel Fields calls to Frank, and you don’t know what his face looks like right now, but clearly it’s not hiding anything very well.

“Fine. Good. I’m gonna— I think I’m good.” He’s off the table in a second, slipping out from your practically outstretched arms.

“I’ll only be a second, if you need to—“ He was already shaking his head before you finished your sentence. Did he not want… Jesus, did he not want to finish what you started as badly as you do? He was walking straight for the door.

“All good. Thanks. I’m— good. I’m good.” He says, not looking you in the eye, and then he’s gone, leaving both you and Colonel Fields confused, and you a little cold.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you finally drag your body to your room, you feel like you’ve been hit by a freight train. You’ve had long days before, but this one is so much more draining. It’s like your heart has been wrung out and shoved back into your chest, and now you just have to walk around with this squished thing in your body that refuses to work properly.

Yes, you were dramatic. But you had a right to be! Frank had— well, he’d done all that, only to run out of the tent and disappear for the entire day. It’s not like you expected flowers and a proposal, but he was outright ignoring you.

Not so much as a text— no looks in the hallway, nothing. Even when he’d usually catch you for lunch, something that would have been ordinary and in his schedule, he wasn’t there. He could just be caught up with something, but your mind couldn’t help but wander to the possibility that you’d jumped the gun or read the room wrong.

You fell backwards onto your bed, the air rushing out of your lungs in a giant whoosh. You’d been harbouring feelings for Frank for so long, and you’d done so well at keeping them in check and at bay, no matter how many flirty smiles and sweet comments he made. But one moment of weakness— one look too long and too close was all it took for you to crack and have your entire heart and career shatter in one go.

Then you hear it— three soft but sure knocks on your door. When you swing it open, you don’t know if your surprised or expectant.

“Frank?”

“Hey, sweetheart. You gonna let me in?” You hesitate for just a moment, worried what he’s going to say. “I’m freezing my ass off out here. Please.”

You watch him shiver in front of you, and it’s only then you look down and see he’s just wearing boxers and the same shirt from this morning, as well as his combat boots, untied with no socks. You just step out of his way and hurry him inside, noting the snow piled up at your door and how late it must be considering the sun had long disappeared.

“Fucking hell. Its fuckin’ cold.” He says through gritted teeth, and you still haven’t said a word, but hand him a towel so he can dry off the fallen snow resting in his short hair. “Thanks.”

“Why aren’t you wearing more clothes?” The question slips out. Not that you were…complaining. But it was snowing outside.

“Yeah… kinda got caught in the barracks. Didn’t wanna waste time and walk all the way… are you alright?”

“You’re freezing— here.” You hand him one of his old jackets he’d given you months ago, and he takes it quickly, shrugging it over his shoulders. “You dissipated kind of fast. I just… sorry. This is weird. I don’t know what to say?”

“You don’t wanna talk, we don’t have to. I’ll…” He steps forward, a hand hooking under your chin to force your eyes up to him, “I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“Wanted you to talk to me today.” You mumble and he grunts, shaking his head. “You were avoiding me. I thought you—“

“No, baby. No. Fuckin’ Fields has been on me since I deployed. He’d take any chance to send me home, and anyone I gave a shit about, too.” His hand hasn’t left you, though the other one stays pinned to his side.

“Oh. You— no, that makes total sense. You should definitely of— Of course! Yeah.” You make a complete dick of yourself trying to find a sentence that doesn’t make you sound insecure, and he steps into you, his body like a warm blanket.

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t thinkin’ about you all damn day.” His breath his hot against your skin, and he presses a kiss under your ear before he continues. “Were you thinkin’ about me?”

“Mhmm.” Your eyes are closed, but you can feel him. Feel his proximity— how his other hand leaves his side and rests on your hip, tugging you into him. There isn’t an inch of him you can’t feel, and the hard lines of his toned stomach tighten as he bends down further.

“You wanna pick up where we left off, sweetheart? Let me show you what I been meaning to do to you since I fuckin’ met you?” Your jaw falls open and you nod again. He takes his chance, groaning your name once more before devouring you into a searing kiss.

He’s unbelievably big, dwarfing your size under neath him as he moves his hands lower and starts to tug at your sweatpants. You shuffle as best you can to help him, but you’re too occupied with the way he’s kissing you to do anything but squirm against him. He’s kissing you like he’s hungry for it, like there’s something desperate and sweet inside of you he’s never had before. It makes your head spin to think he might want this just as bad as you do.

He walks backwards, falling with a grunt onto your bed, tugging you on top of him. It’s the same as this morning, expect now there’s even less between you. Just the thin fabric of your underwear and his boxers seperate you from each other, but he’s no less intense with the way he moves you in slow circles while he licks into your mouth.

“Fuck.” He mutters and pulls himself away, mumbling as he rips your shirt over your head. He kisses you everywhere he can reach— craning his head to press his mouth to your collarbones, down your chest, feeling his hands run up to touch you where his mouth can’t.

He flips you over, your back hitting the soft covers of your bed and crawls over you. His arms cage you in, mouth repeating the motions and tasting your skin further down. He’s so slow about it— hardly even doing this for you. His mouth is as warm as his skin, trailing his way down until his short hair tickles the skin of your inner thighs. You can’t take your eyes off him, how easy he fits himself between your legs, shoulders spreading you open.

He breathes out, setting himself down between your legs, toying with the soft fabric of your underwear. His fingertips are rough, but his touch gentle, tracing the lines of your hips and sending zaps of pleasure up your body.

“So pretty, baby.” The words hit your skin, and you squirm under his hands when they hook under your underwear. He drags them down quickly, your hands toying with the short strands of his hair. Franks eyes meet yours, and you swear he gives you a cocky little smile before he sinks lower and your eyes squeeze shut.

His mouth is on you in the next second, burying himself between you. You feel the warm touch of his mouth swirl around you, arms hooking around your lower half and holding you down. You don’t want to move, don’t want to interrupt the intensity of his touch but you can’t help it— it’s all too much and you want to dive into it. Everything hot and sparkling sizzles up your spine, and you arch off the bed in such surprise when you feel his mouth seal over your clit.

You squeeze your eyes shut harder, a near painful grip on his hair yanking him both into you and away. He’s too strong, too overpowering to even notice your efforts, and you thank God he doesn’t fucking stop. You were whining pathetically now— his name echoing in high pitched in the small room. You feel him smile, your jaw going slack just thinking about what he looks like.

“Keep sayin’ my name— fuckin’ sounds good when you say it.” He leans back only slightly, and you gasp when you feel him lean his head against your thigh. The feeling of him— his mouth fucking wet with the taste of you, feeling the soft puff of his breath against your skin as he catches himself. Then he wraps his arms around your thighs and tugs you down the bed. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Keep going, fuck—“ You whimper, trying to smooth your hands through his hair in an attempt to be nicer. He grins lazily, and then stares right into your eyes as he spits into your pussy and buried his face into you again.

Everything burns red hot, and your legs clamp around his head as he speeds up. One arm is enough to hold you down, the other snaking up our side and interlocking with your hand. You can’t keep your eyes open— everything going blurry as your eyes roll back and you feel yourself spinning in all directions.

You must say something— his name, maybe, because he groans and flattens his tongue, letting you grind your hips up and into him. If you could manage to open your eyes you’d stare back at him— let him watch as you fall apart in a way only he can break you.

Frank keeps a pace— fucking you with his tongue and swirling around the bud of nerves in such a messy but fiery way that you can’t hold it. Everything gets white hot and your back arches again, fingertips digging into his scalp and hand, and you know it’s cliche but you swear you can see stars.

Frank doesn’t stop, just slows down and works you through the shocks of pleasure that jolt up your core, feeling the way you shudder as you cum in his mouth. When your squirming too much for him to hold you still, he drags his mouth up your body. Again, he kisses his way up, but this time it’s messy. He’s not just kissing— he drags teeth and tongue along your hip bones, marking his way up to your chest and neck. You’ll be covered in the evidence, and you only lean closer, wanting more.

“Fucking hell, Frank.” His hands slide up your sides while yours palm him through his boxers, and he shudders your name. “Fuck, I want you so bad.”

“Do you, pretty girl?” He groans in your ear, and your stomach flips at the name. You bite your lip and nod, staring up at him and he grins. “You liked that, huh?”

“I know something I’d like more.” Blinking innocently, you slip your hand under his boxers and wrap your hand around his hard length. He cuts himself off with a choked gasp, leaning back down and kissing you messily.

You let him take what he wants, pressing his hips into the slow, teasing movement of your hand as you slowly slide his boxers off. The feeling of his skin on yours lights something on fire inside you, and while he’s nearly drunk on the taste of your mouth, you shove him easily onto his back. You’re quick about it, not giving him a second to breathe when you’re sinking down on his cock, earning another long, low groan.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” He gasps out, hands gripping your hips tightly. You roll forward slightly, feeling him hit something that makes you shiver, and he helps you chase the feeling. He moves you with no effort, bucking his hips and grinding you in out of rhythm thrusts, his eyes screwed tightly shut like he was in pain. “Oh god, baby don’t stop.”

“Feels good, Frankie.” His jaw goes slack with another stuttered moan of your name, while his hands touch you wherever they can reach. He glides up your stomach, over your ribs, your breasts, until he reaches your face where he hauls you downwards into another bruising kiss.

“Fucking… so perfect. Thought about this… fuck, that’s it. God that’s fuckin’ it.” He slurs between kisses, and he moves faster, rougher as he fucks you dizzy. It’s numbing and electrifying all at once, the grip of his hands on your face forcing you to stare into his half lidded eyes. “Such a pretty girl. Just keep lookin’ at me. Just like that.”

His free hand wraps around your lower back, his name coming out high pitched and drawn out as you call it over and over again. He kisses you, words mumbled into your mouth but the pleasure is too overwhelming— you couldn’t hear anything but the snap of his hips against yours and both of you chasing your high.

He bites your lower lip, drawing you back to him when he feels you tighten around him. He knows you well— he’d know you’re close, and his eyes burn so brightly in front of you that even though he’s got that cocky smirk on his face you still want to tell him how fucking good he is at this. He presses his forehead to yours, holding you against him as he brings you to the edge with a few more strewing, devastating thrusts and you’re gone— screaming his name so loud you know your neighbours will hear.

“Fr-Frank!” Your body shakes as pleasure overwhelms you, and he watches every fucking second of it. He’s right there with you, the look on your face when you cum for him sending him toppling over with you. He’s so warm and he’s everywhere— arms wrapping around you, mouth sealed to yours swallowing every little whimper and moan, cock buried so deep inside you, you know you’re gonna feel him for days.

The room is suddenly quiet, except for yours and Franks in sync breathing. You tuck your face into his neck and he buries you there, strong arms wrapping around your torso and keeping you as close as possible. When you feel his heart beat start to slow, you look up at him to find he’s already staring at you.

“You got no idea how long I’ve been waitin’ to do that.” He confesses, kissing you again. It’s lazy, indulgent and somehow he still tastes so good. It’s addicting, and you find yourself chasing his mouth until you’re breathless again. When he pulls away, he’s panting, shaking his head. “You keep kissing me like that and you’re in for a long fucking night.”

“Just one night?” You want to look away in case it’s not the answer you want, but he laughs, moving you to the side and tucking you to his chest.

“Fuck no.” He groans as he finally slips out of you. You sigh, content for now, and wriggle back towards him, pressing your ass against his hips. He freezes and his breathing changes, sounding very, very controlled. “Baby. Please don’t mess with me right now.”

“Oh, poor Frank. Stuck in bed with a girl. A naked girl. How’s he gonna make it?” Before you can be proud of yourself for the short silence you are awarded, he’s flipping you over and kissing his way down your chest and stomach. When he disappears between your thighs, you cry out his name, and fuck— you don’t think you’d ever get enough of this.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #marvel tv #the punisher x reader #the punisher x you #marvel #the punisher x y/n

984 notes · View notes

madschiavelique · 3 months

Text

⚝﹒𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬﹒⚝

⚝﹒author's note : just wanted to write a soft thing about frank meeting a dreamy reader and being in love

⚝﹒contents warning : mentions of blood, death (frank's past), mostly fluff though, afab reader, no use of y/n

⚝﹒word count : 1768

When you live in a world where nightmares haunt you, it’s hard to find the time to chase after your dreams.

They tormented Frank, these ghosts of the past. The dead, the deaths that piled up like an ugly heap, a scarlet stack of glassy eyes bleached white by the lack of a soul.

Their warm, sticky blood stuck to his fingers. No matter how many times he washed them, how hard he scrubbed his own skin, how hot he turned the water on; he would never feel clean.

All those times he came home, covered in the coppery smell of carmine liquid, he waited for the shower like a saving goddess. She would take him in her hot arms, the steam enveloping him in that reassuring mist like a mother's embrace.

The water cuddled him, caressing his body drop by drop, leaving a crimson river running down his skin and escaping into the black hole of the tub.

She reassured him, whispering in his ear the sweet words that could come from the pearls of purity and insouciance. But there were times where she'd come down on him like a storm.

And when he lay there, in his miserable bed, and the pouring rain came beating against the glass of his window, he couldn't sleep.

Because when you've learnt Morse code and used it enough times in your life to read it, write it, listen to it and understand it, even the rain screams at you to run.

He had lived a life, and he had taken more of them than he would live again later in the meanders of time. Would he ever find the strength to forgive himself? He had already found it, somewhere, somehow.

Would he ever find someone to forgive him?

This thought sometimes kept him awake. He usually came home exhausted, worn out by a day that had taken him through so many emotions and feelings that he wondered if that single day hadn't lasted a whole year.

Once he was clean, he'd collapse onto his bed and, far too tired to think, let himself drift off into the darkness of the night to the jars of stars that dreams shine in.

But nothing was bright. No lights, no candle with a flame the size of an almond barely illuminating you a room, not even a flickering firefly gently flying under the weight of its glow.

Nothing. The pitch black of the night, the black of his thoughts, the black of his title.

He was trying to rebuild his life, to leave all this evil behind, no matter how tenaciously it clung to him like his shadow.

Was it only his shadow, or was his reflection a part of the loathing ? Every vision he had of himself was distorted by the depth of his actions.

He had lost count of the times when facing his own gaze seemed harder than any fight, harder than being shouted at for something stupid, harder than staring into the sun for too long.

When other people's eyes met his, did they have any idea of the weight they carried? Of what those eyes had seen, of what those eyes had cried, of how those eyes turned all black and devoid of light when he clutched the grip of his guns.

Who would want to look into eyes as black as the room he went to bed in every night?

Life swept into his path the most pleasant devil he had ever met. His circle of friends gradually dwindled down to his own. But he didn't give himself any hope that it would last.

When you're used to losing, you expect everything to be taken from you without asking. You expect your hopes to melt away like snowflakes in the palm of your hand. But you'd have to believe that his heart was cold enough to prevent them from turning into tears from the heavens.

It was thanks to Matt that he had met you. It was no secret that Frank was an avid reader, as if reading what literature had to offer would revive the dead that the words on paper exposed to him.

So Matt had recommended a bookshop where, according to him, he could find a wide variety of books. At first Frank thought that the demon was sending him into a den of other fools who read the criminal and civil codes day and night as if their lives depended on it.

But the latter quickly confirmed that there would be someone there to help him. He didn't have much to lose, and when the time came to read a new book, he went there. He had no high expectations, it was a bookshop like any other.

There was nothing special about it. It had a window displaying the major releases of late, the familiar smell of book paper wafting through the air, and shelves full of intriguing covers.

But it had you.

Knees bent to the ground, arched towards the floor as you pointed to a page of a book a child was holding in his tiny hands, your eyes sparkling as you explained something he couldn't hear.

You hid your mouth for a moment, leaning over to whisper a secret to the child, and the little boy laughed softly as you lowered your fingers from your lips to let your smile shine through.

All the secrets in the world that interested him seemed to be held by you alone.

You straightened up, letting the child read quietly, turning to Frank with that same smile adoring your lips.

"May I help you?"

Frank had forgotten how to speak for a moment, but his wits quickly pushed him to start talking and not look like a moron with his mouth half-open in a fish-like fashion.

He told you what he liked, and with an unconscious charm that made him feel as if he were suffocating, you guided him to the first shelf, summarising the synopsis of a book for him with mad, bewitching simplicity.

Then, feigning dissatisfaction when you'd hit the nail on the head, he asked you if you had anything else to suggest.

Then came the second book, which he had already read. Then the next, which seemed too close to another. Then another. And then another. Until he couldn't come up with any more excuses he searched at every turn of shelves to hear you talk and spend any time in your presence.

When it came to the checkout and you handed him the book, your fingers touched for a moment as you wished him a good day.

He thought about it every evening that followed.

As the days passed, a rhythm settled in. He would finish a recommended book, come and see you, find premeditated ways of spending as much time as possible in the bookshop, and leave with another novel.

One day he plucked up the courage to buy you a coffee, and he thought his heart would burst when you accepted. Coffee led to lunch, lunch led to dinner, and dinner led to a bottle of wine at home.

And even when your flesh intertwined, your voices became whispers, and your lips kissed, he never had any doubts :

You were everything, and he was nothing.

He had lived with the idea of being nothing for a long time, had become accustomed to the thought, had become almost attached to it. Nothing is always alone, otherwise it wouldn't be nothing. So what was he now that he had a glimpse of you in his life?

It was one night, in his dark bedroom, as you sat on his bed facing him, that his thoughts glowed.

You had leaned over him and kissed his forehead so tenderly that he felt fragile beneath your fingers. You gazed into his eyes, as if no matter how deep they were, you weren't afraid of what you were about to find.

There was a moment of silence, a moment of darkness, a moment of nothing. Fear buzzed in his ears for the first time in a long time.

She won't choose me, because if I were in her place, I wouldn't choose myself. That's what he thought. He thought that you had seen in his eyes what people call "void", a farewell to every "goodbye", and that you were going to take time in the oceans to drown his despair.

He was petrified at the thought of you leaving. Until you told him:

"You've forgotten how to dream, haven't you ?" your whisper and your gaze came in a wave as your thumb stroked the frown of his forehead to loosen it, "It's been ripped away from you," you whispered as your eyes met Frank's. "Hasn't it ?"

And you... you looked at him as if there was something in him worth looking at.

You saw in him what he couldn't see anymore, half skinned like a piano key, between the living and the lived.

He took you in his arms, pressing your body against his as if you were the frailest thing he had ever seen, fearing that the smoothness of your soul would be pierced by the twisted peaks of the brambles around his heart.

Winter came, and you hadn't left.

The snowflakes fell in front of the car lights as if they lived only in the light. They fell to the ground like their only purpose in their infinitesimal lives was to simply lie on the ground and kiss it cold.

You looked up at the sky, it was night, and everything was full of thick clouds. They were all falling like the white feathers of a fallen angel, twirling in an incessant waltz until they grounded wherever the wind took them.

They were falling, and if Icarus had flown too close to the sun, then they had flown too close to the moon, and the latter, recognising them as no stars, blew them away to send them elsewhere.

And there you were right in front of him, in all that cold magic, reaching out with your gloved hand to pick up a little crystal star that you were looking at very carefully.

It was terrible that there wasn't enough time to take all the snowflakes one by one and look at them. Nature made such beautiful things that it seemed unfair not to be able to see them all.

You took his hand again to go home, and he prayed to anything that was still dear to him that you'd never fade.

And that night, his first dream was of you.

60 notes · View notes

flightlessangelwings · 6 months

Text

Ktober 2023 Day 14- Tit Play

Frank Castle x fem!reader

Word count- 1.1k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), established relationship, body worship, subby-sih Frank, praise, dirty talk, thigh riding, no use of y/n

Notes- Is anyone really surprised with with one? No lol. It's no secret I love Frank's titties so this was a no brainer for me to write. Honestly I'm shocked I didn't write this sooner lol. Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

“Frank, I’m home,” you called out into the space you shared with him. It was late, later than you usually got home, and you were sure he would be there already.

“In here, baby,” Frank’s voice called from the living room.

Smiling, you slid off your shoes and made your way to the other room, but when you stepped across the threshold, what you saw took your breath away. Frank was laying on the couch, shirtless, his sweatpants low on his waist. Part of you knew you were gawking at him, but you couldn’t help it.

Frank noticed of course, “See anything you like, sweetheart?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

Picking your jaw up off the floor, you gave him a mischievous smirk as you dropped your tone, “Perhaps,” you smoothly made your way across the room to him.

Frank Castle’s low rumble of a laugh went right to your cunt, just like it always did.

“You know I like it when you’re just in your sweats like this,” you purred as you straddled his hips.

“I know, baby,” he rested his hands on your hips as he looked at you with pure admiration, “Welcome home,” he added with a smirk.

“What a welcome it is,” you whispered before you closed the gap between your faces in a heated kiss. You rocked your hips against his as you quickly deepened the kiss.

You moaned into Frank’s mouth as you felt his hands roam up and down your back, caressing your body with his big hands. Your own hands ran across his chest, and you smiled against his lips when you felt his groan underneath you.

“Shit baby,” Frank hissed as you squeezed his pecs with both hands.

His cock twitched under your hips as you kneaded his chest while you kissed your way down his neck. You bit down harder as you tightened your fingers around his pecs at the same time, savoring the way the mighty and strong Frank Castle melted underneath your touch. Rocking your hips against his cock at the same time, you brushed your thumb across his nipples.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he dropped his head back.

“You like that… baby?” you murmured.

“Fuck yeah,” Frank groaned.

“Me too.”

You kissed your way down his chest, adjusting yourself in his lap to reach his pecs. You nibbled your way along the prominent muscle there, making sure to suck little marks in his skin as you did so. Frank moaned your name as you paid extra attention to his chest.

But the sound he let out when you wrapped your lips around his nipple almost made you cum then and there. Frank groaned loudly and wrapped his arms around your shoulders as you ran your tongue along his nipple, flicking it hard a few times before you sucked again. You sucked hard, taking as much of his pec in your mouth as you could.

Teeth grazed along the now overly sensitive skin, teasing him. You smiled against his skin, enjoying this just as much as Frank was. Starting again, you licked his nipple a few times before you bit down harder.

“Shit baby,” Frank sighed as one hard made its way up to rest on the back of your head.

You giggled as you kissed your way across Frank’s chest to give the other pec the same treatment. You kneaded the one you just worked on with your hand while you nibbled on the muscle. This time, though, you were rougher, more determined to mark him as much as you could.

Sucking hard, you broke away from his skin with a loud pop to admire your work. A bright red spot right on the belly of his pec muscle shined at you. And it only spurred you on more. WIth a moan, you dove back into Frank’s chest, lickign and sucking and biting your way along the muscle.

“Fuck,” Frank groaned as his cock strained in his sweatpants.

You responded by rocking yourself against him, but you didn’t break away. Not when you wanted to worship him more. Nibbling your way to his nipple, you hummed against Frank's skin. And when you finally reached it after all the teasing, he let out another low groan.

A moan of your own escaped your lips as you rocked against him more while your tongue flicked across Frank’s nipple. You squeezed his other pec harder as you grazed your teeth across the bud. All Frank could do was sit there as you had your way with him, and he loved it.

“Baby,” he murmured in that low tone that made your pussy clench, “If you keep this up,” he hissed as you didn’t stop working his chest, “I might… Ahh… I’m gonna fucking cum in my pants.”

It was the first time anything like this happened to Frank. And it was fucking incredible. A younger Frank would have flipped you over and fucked you on the couch, needing to cum inside you. But this… this was new, this was different. This was just as intimate as fucking you, or eating you out, or being in your mouth. This was you worshiping his body in a way no one ever did before. It was something uniquely you, and it made it all the more special.

“Frank…” you hummed against his skin, “I don’t wanna stop. I wanna make you cum like this.”

“Shit baby,” Frank hissed, “Fucking do it,” he growled, “But only if you cum too.”

You moaned against his skin as you rocked your hips against his length faster. Heat rose in the room as you and Frank rutted against each other on the couch, your lips still wrapped around his nipple and your hands kneading his pecs.

Without warning, Frank groaned your name as his climax hit. His mouth hung open as a string of curses and praises flowed from his mouth as he soaked his sweatpants… and your pussy through him. You kept going, licking and sucking at his chest while you rocked against him faster, desperately chasing your own climax.

You only broke away from Frank’s skin when your own peak hit, and the familiar tingles ran up your spine as your clit rubbed against his body over and over again. You leaned back to let out a loud moan as you rode him on the couch, pulling every ounce of orgasm from both your bodies until you were spent.

Collapsing forward, you panted heavily as you rested your head on Frank’s shoulder, and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

“Fuck,” Frank sighed, “Baby, that was so fuckin’ hot.”

“Mmm,” you hummed contently, not wanting to leave his arms.

What a welcome home indeed.

277 notes · View notes

amhrosina · 1 year

Note

short fic about reader comforting frank after he fails to save a girl who looks like reader!!!!!!!!!!! ANGST PLEASEEEEE (and also smut is okay with me if you want to)

Safe and Sound

(Frank Castle x f!Reader)

a/n: y'all i based this off of safe and sound by taylor swift so uhhh angst ahead

warnings: angsty as hell, canon typical frank stuff - violence, blood, etc., smut but with decorum!!!!, lmfao they do it on the kitchen floor where is said decorum???, anyways some religious imagery, frank just loves reader so much, reader sort of worships frank (who wouldn't??))

I remember tears streaming down your face when I said, "I'll never let you go"

When all those shadows almost killed your light

I remember you said, "Don't leave me here alone"

But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down

You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now

Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

It was all very simple, really, when it came to Frank. The shrill of your phone in the middle of the night, tearing out of your rumpled sheets, rubbing the blur out of your half-lidded eyes and running, running, to his apartment, which was only four blocks from yours. It was so, so simple. He needed you, so you would be there.

He was covered in blood, hunched over the kitchen sink, heaving into the drain when you found him. A mixture of blood, sweat, and tears fell from his ghostly pale face onto the counter, staining it crimson. You froze, only for a moment, only to assess the carnage in front of you, and lunged toward him, pressing cool hands to his searing skin.

He trembled against you, clutching at your body, your skin, anything that was an extension of you with blood coated hands. His legs gave out, a muffled sob leaving his throat as his knees slammed into the tile.

“Frank, baby, what happened?” You gasped, cradling his head against your stomach.

In a quick movement born of a desperate desire to touch you, his hands ran the length of your body, cupping the back of your knees and tugging, sending you crashing against him on the floor. Your knees straddled either side of his legs, and he used his leverage to crush your body against his in a bear hug.

“Frankie, are you okay?” You murmured, running a soothing hand through his hair and down the back of his neck.

He tightened his hold on you, pulling you impossibly closer to him. A shuddering breath released through his clenched teeth before he finally looked up at you. Your stomach dropped at the sight. The warmth that usually coated his gaze was nowhere to be found. When you looked at him, you weren’t face to face with your Frank. Staring back at you was the cold, dead eyes of the punisher.

And yet, the longer you looked, the more you could see the cracks in his façade - the ones he tried so hard to bury when he left the apartment at night. A mixture of fear and relief stirred in his dark eyes, and all at once you felt both exposed and comforted under his gaze.

“Talk to me.” You softly encouraged, cradling your hands around his jaw.

“She looked like you.” He mumbled, searching for the remnants of himself in your gaze.

“Who did, baby?” You pressed him further.

“They had a woman,” he swallowed thickly, “She was half dead when I got there. I couldn’t get to her in time.” He shook his head, briefly closing his eyes. “She looked like you, and I lost it. I tore them to shreds with my bare hands.”

He began to tremble again, and you watched as his eyes grew watery. You didn’t gawk, or scoff, or push away from him like many people would if they knew the brutality his hands were capable of inflicting on others. You didn’t move at all, becoming the steady rock that he so desperately needed tonight. You would not balk at his rage. You would not falter in the face of carnage.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it being you.” His voice cracked, and the ghost of a tear slid down his cheek. “I would burn the world if it were you.” He growled, a hint of his fury slipping through his tone. His grip on you tightened as the memories of the night resurfaced.

“It wasn’t me, baby.” You breathed, running a thumb over the stubble that had built up on his face. “I’m right here. I’m safe.” His arms reflexively tightened around your waist at the word ‘safe’, as though he had to remind himself that you were physically in his arms, the safest place in the world for you. “I’m safe with you.” You murmured, ghosting a kiss over his swollen cheekbone.

He snaked a hand up your spine, wrapping his hand around the back of your head. For a moment, the world ceased to exist. It was just you and Frank, wrapped in each other, soaked in the consequences of his perilous night. A single tear slid down his cheek. He broke the spell between you by pulling your lips down to his in a feverish kiss. His tongue scraped against your lips, a question and a desperate plead.

“Need you, baby.” He mumbled against your lips. And that was all it took.

You opened yourself to him, grinding down into his lap with a ferocity only reserved for wild, untethered nights like this one. He tugged at your shirt, nearly tearing it off your torso, and groaned when your nipples perked at the cool air. His hands roamed the length of your body, and something about his gentle pushes and pulls as he explored your skin told you it was not just out of carnal lust, but out of a desire to touch every living aspect of you. A gentle reminder that you were, in fact, safe and in his arms.

“So soft, sweetheart.” he breathed, pressing a line of kisses down your jawline and onto your neck. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

“‘m all yours, Frankie.” You arched into his touch, a breathy moan snaking its way out of your mouth and into the world around you. He tugged your pants down as you fumbled with his belt, and even though he was still mostly dressed, and your pants were sitting at a wild angle on your shins, the spark that he had ignited forced you to sink down onto him, grunting through the stretch and leaning into his chest like the devout do when they pray.

You excused the lewdness of your thoughts, though you also felt like they perfectly described the relationship between the two of you. Frank Castle was your God, and you would worship him like this for the rest of your life.

It didn’t matter that it was three in the morning, or that Frank’s demons were spectating this joining, or that Frank’s kitchen was covered in blood. All that mattered in that moment was the way your skin felt against Frank’s. The way you moved as a unit, seducing the pleasure out of each other slowly. The way you uncoiled around him, exploding in a desperate prayer to be full of him him him. The way his low, rough moans sparked another explosion as he answered your prayers a few minutes later.

Sweat clung to both of your foreheads, and even though there were far more comfortable positions that you could switch to, you and Frank didn’t move as your gazes met – the helpless love and worship so plain and obvious in your eyes. Your bodies remained joined for a long while, breaths and heartrates returning to normal.

When you finally moved, it was only to stumble into the shower, scrubbing the crimson stained skin until it was rubbed raw, but clean. You both fell into Frank’s bed, the late hour and chaos of the night finally catching up with your antics. He pulled you against him and pressed a warm kiss to your forehead as he wrapped his arms around you. You had told him once that this position made you feel invincible because you knew it was the safest place on earth, and he hadn’t forgotten it.

“No one can hurt you.” He promised, the ghost of the whisper carrying from his lips to the shell of your ear. “You’re safe here, with me.”

And you always would be.

Tag List:

@xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @callsign-mama @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @fightmilk @spikedhe4rt @fictional-hooman @merleisapartygod @babyslyth @legocity2 @quackson03 @certifiedhunter @deliciousfestsalad @dumb-fawkin-bitch @americaarse @thatgirljayy @hiyabyeyababy @theesexystallion @scoliobean @myguiltypleasures21 @dnxgma @evyiione @gpenguin666 @desert-fern @day-dreaming-goddess @rayray787 @ginnysculture @ryebreadsworld @laaundromat @megmastersgf @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout @blep--bloop @kpopgirlbtssvt @aynsleywalker @queenofthenoobs

793 notes · View notes

bits-and-babs · 1 year

Text

-ˋˏ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 ˎˊ-

summary: Following the death of your husband, you find solace in a fellow widower.

pairing: Frank Castle x f!Reader

word count: 6.2k

warnings: Angst: Grief. Loss of a loved one. Desecration of a grave (not done by main characters). Navigating feelings for someone following the death of your marriage partner. Very vague references to violence. Softest smut I could muster, P in V sex, unprotected sex (the pull out method is NOT safe, ya’ll!)

Send me an ask || Frank Castle Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Day 10

The condensation on the glass of the beer bottle in your hands grounds you to the grass beneath your legs. The green strands feel more like emerald blades against the soft skin of your calves, just as your clothes feel like sandpaper and the lukewarm alcohol that slides down your throat burns like lava against your lips. All the small, beautiful things you used to appreciate with him all feel tainted, curdled without him by your side.

You exhale shakily, tears welling up in your eyes as you reach across to trace the arch of the gravestone, your husband's name etched into the marbled stone with an engraver that had probably written out ten other names that same day- so impersonal. It’s cold to the touch despite the warm sunshine spilling onto your skin, and the edges of the engravings feel as though they leave papercuts, too sharp to replace the soft, gentle touch of your late husband.

A sob rips its way up your throat, and you find yourself having to step away. It’s too much, too overwhelming to sit beside the stone for too long. Loosely gripping the emerald green neck of the beer bottle, you stumble blindly towards the bench on the other side of the gravel footpath just beyond your husband's grave. You had noted it, and the man sat on the end of it when you walked into the cemetery.

The exhale you let out as you set yourself down on the wooden bench is shaky, and your eyes cast skyward at the beautiful azure while you attempt to collect yourself and cease the tears that stream down your cheeks. They accumulate in the hollow of your chin before dripping down your chest and soak into the fabric of your sweater, leaving wet stains that darken the material. Fumbling to wipe the tears from your skin before they can do any more damage, you note the man beside you doesn’t make an effort to bother you, opting to gaze at a stone to the left of him.

You’re thankful for his silence; it gives you a moment to clean up. It’s only when you stop sniffling helplessly that the man raises his head, bistered irises slowly drifting over your face. He’s rough around the edges, with deep-set eyes and high cheekbones. His lips are pretty, the lower smaller than the upper, which has a sharp Cupid’s bow. His nose looks as though it’s been broken too many times, and there are creases in his forehead that appear to be a permanent fixture thanks to several years of frowning.

His face is framed with stubble that reaches his cheekbones, and there are deep shadows under his eyes that emulate that of bruises with their deep purple colour. He looks tired. Grief-stricken.

Again, he graces you with silence and offers you a wordless nod of acknowledgement, of understanding. He doesn’t speak, but the simple act says so many things.

“I understand how you feel.”

“I was there not long ago.”

“I’m sorry you’re hurting.”

No matter how often people tried to soothe your anguish with words, they never managed to achieve in one hundred comments what this stranger had in a single, wordless gesture of compassion. So you nod back. A short, soft tilt of your chin downwards in appreciation. It’s enough for him, it seems, because his head turns back to the stone of his deceased loved one, lips turned downwards as he gazed resignedly at the marbled stone as if willing them back from the dead.

You join him in his grief, eyes cast back to your husband as you quietly plead to all the Gods above that he doesn’t leave you alone. You can’t be alone.

-✩-

Day 25

You see it before you even make it to the foot of your husband's grave. The green and brown shards of glass glistening in the sunlight amongst the brown soil that was yet to flourish new grass since his burial. You leisurely walk upticks to more of a jog as you approach, panic rising in your chest and tears stinging your eyes.

Frequenters of the graveyard had warned you of rowdy teenagers messing around and getting drunk around the site's perimeters. Maybe it was foolish to believe that people would be respectful even in a place as sacred as a graveyard, but the smashed bottles over your lover’s grave make you want to scream in dismay. Your chest heaves as the tears stream down your cheeks, choking on your sobs as you fall to your knees in the soil and begin to pick out the shards with your naked hands.

Clinking together as you gather the pieces in your palms, the fragments are sharp to the touch. There are tiny pieces that you need to pick out of the earth with your fingertips and large shivers that you manage to collect with relative ease. Still, you can barely see through the distortion of your tears as you work hard to make the grave presentable again.

“Ow-!” You cry out weakly, a fracture of glass slitting the skin of your middle finger across the knuckle. The frustration bubbles over, anguish crushing your chest as you drop the fragments again to hold the affected area. You can feel blood seeping down your wrist, smearing your palm.

It’s too much.

Ugly, wretched sobs wrack your body as you practically fold your body in half, clutching your bleeding hand to your chest and rocking back and forth. It’s so overwhelming, the torment of being alone, being without your husband who was always there to lift you up. He would be here with his arm around your shoulders now, telling you that it was going to be okay.

“Hey, hey hey, sh-sh-sh,” you hear a gruff voice sound behind you over the volume of your cries, hushing you in a gentle tone. It takes you a moment to respond, wiping your eyes with the back of your wrists before you look up, still struggling to swallow your tears. The mysterious stranger who had sat on the bench with you only a few days ago crouches on his heels beside you, dark eyes surveying the scene with a furious frown.

“Who did this?” He asks. His voice is coarse, rage laced between each word as he reaches across to pick up the glass you had dropped in your breakdown. He does it with little effort, as though the honed edges of the glass do little to pierce his thick, calloused palms—years of blistering, years of hard work layered between scarred skin.

Struggling to form the words on your quivering lips, you throw a half-hearted shrug his way, only for another heaving sob to break past your throat. You can’t see, but you hear the creak of his leather combat boots as he stands. The stranger is quick to cross the short space to the bin beside the bench you had met him on in order to discard the glass but immediately returns to his spot beside you.

He doesn’t try to rush your grief, to get you to relocate or even stand. The caring, albeit gruff-looking, stranger stays hunched beside you, just letting you know without contact or words that he is here for you. It takes you a good while to settle the heavy breathing, but when it finally stalls, you feel hollow, as though you’d cried out all your energy to water your husband's grave.

“M’gunna kill ‘em.” Despite the violent words, the tone is spoken softly but with conviction. You glance up, feeling your eyelids almost squeak with the effort it takes, finding his eyes searching the cemetery's edges in a crude investigation. It makes you laugh weakly, wiping the tear stains from your cheeks despite them beginning to dry in the open air.

“Don’t hassle yourself with stupid kids, please-“

“No. No, don’t you be worryin’. Alright? M’gunna make sure they don’t do this shit again,” he asserts himself with a stern point of his index finger, eyes set on your face with dogged determination. You swallow down the argument threatening to leave your lips, instead solemnly accepting this vigilante’s justice. He nods at your silence, taking it as the wordless go-ahead.

Standing again, he walks through the marbled headstones. His all-black outfit is stark against the bone colour of the grave markers, almost imposing.

“Please let me at least know your name?” You call to him, “So I can use it when I thank you!”

His footsteps hesitate in the neatly trimmed, glass-free grass, stalling slightly before jump-starting again. He doesn’t look back at you, instead opting to call over his shoulder. “‘S Pete.”

You remember it. Let the name play in your skull over and over in that gravelly voice so you couldn’t possibly forget it. Pete, Pete, Pete. When he approaches you days later as you readied to leave the car park with keys in hand, he informs you ‘they won’t be comin’ round here to bother you no more, got it?’ You manage to ignore the lingering thoughts of how he had managed to scare the teens from the area (given his bloody knuckles and busted lip, it didn’t take much to figure it out), instead choosing to focus on addressing him formally, with sincerity.

“Thank you, Pete.”

-✩-

Day 70

The rain beats violently down on the windscreen of your car as you pull into the cemetery car park, the water slipping down the glass, causing the landscape to ripple as you stop the wipers. The sky is black with thick clouds, and the water they drop pelts the car's roof so loudly that it drowns out the low-level noise of the radio.

When you park up, the ‘tik’ of the radio turning off when you shut down the car is so soft you’re almost certain you haven’t killed it in the din. Satisfied only by the dash light going dark, you sit back in your seat for a moment and just gaze out of the window in dismay. Maybe this was as close as you would get to your husband today. You’re almost sure he wouldn’t mind, not wanting you to catch a cold in this weather just to spend five minutes with him.

As you gaze out at the cemetery, watching the rain batter the cold headstone that marked your husband's final resting place, you almost miss the shadow of the darkly dressed man hunched over on the bench you frequented. He’s tall and broad, and you know almost immediately who it is without having seen him in nearly a month.

Sat out in the cold and wet, Pete hasn’t even bothered to bring a coat. With no hood to protect him from the elements, his hair is drenched through, and you swear you can see how red his nose is even from the car. Despite the discomfort he must be feeling, he sits forward on the bench, forearms braced on his knees and fingers interlocked as he watches the raindrops run down a gravestone.

You’d taken it upon yourself to bring the stone flowers when Frank was away. You had no doubt he was still visiting at some point during the day, but you thought it would be a nice thing to do, given he had helped you—hydrangeas, you chose, a symbol of gratitude. When you approached the stone on a day that was definitely sunnier than this, you had noted the engraving. “Precious are the memories of Maria Elizabeth Castle, devoted wife & mother.”

Perhaps it was presumptuous to feel as though you understood his pain, just as he had understood yours, but knowing he, too, had lost his partner made it feel as though your silent bond meant more than you had initially realised.

So despite your better judgement, you step out of the car and hop straight into a puddle, soaking through your sneakers. You don’t bother to complain, despite how it wets your socks and instantly freezes your toes, approaching Pete with your arms crossed over your chest to retain as much body heat as you can against the wild wind and freezing rain.

Since fighting with the rowdy teenagers, Pete had been lying extremely low. So low that even other frequenters of the cemetery claimed they hadn’t seen him in weeks. You had almost been concerned that something had happened to him, so to see him sitting on his side of the bench came as a relief to you. As you approach, he’s still yet to note your advancing footsteps over the racket of the rain against the gravel.

You can see him closer now. Water drips from his long lashes, mixing with the tears that have settled on his cheeks if his bloodshot eyes are anything to go by.

“Hard day?” You speak softly, snapping him out of his trance. His head twists sharply to look at you, eyes wild with survival before realising it’s you instead of some silly teen trying to pick a fight or something more sinister than that. You just give him a pitying look. He’s totally deserving of it; he looks like a drowned rat. Still, he casts your sympathy aside with a scowl, grumbling wordlessly.

“I get it,” you begin, moving to sit beside him as the rain finally starts to soak through your jacket and chill your body, “Big scary man doesn’t like to talk about how he’s feeling. But that’s not good for you, you know?”

You’re met with silence, his eyes sliding back over to his wife’s headstone. Pete looks devastatingly sad whenever he looks at it, like the weight of the stone crushes him despite the fact his humongous body could probably carry quadruple its size with little effort.

“… It’s okay to be hurting, Pete,” you murmur softly, and in return, you are gifted with the sound of him exhaling slowly, shakily, as if he was releasing some of the tremendous pressure he was carrying. It makes you smile, to see him make an effort for you.

“Something started it?” You ask in a hushed tone, loud enough to be heard over the clatter of gravel pieces tossed about by the heavy downpour. “Someone said something? Had a shitty shift at work?”

“Mmmh. I woke up, and she just… wasn’t there,” he said softly, exhaling again. It sends a devastating pang through your chest. You know that feeling well. Understand that sensation of still reaching across the mattress to feel your husband's warmth only to find cold, empty sheets instead. For the first week after his death, you opted to sleep on the couch in the living room just to avoid that torturous realisation every day. It was only recently you had managed a morning without crying.

You swallow back the tears that pinprick your eyes now, threatening to undo all your hard work. Tapping your toes against the gravel, you purse your lips as you consider a way to answer him that doesn’t sound condescending. He’s a grown man; he doesn’t deserve to be spoken to like a child.

“Have you spoken to anyone? A friend, family?”

“Got no family,” he admits, glancing over to the distant city lights of New York. “Got no friends. It’s just me.”

You didn’t find it hard to believe at all. Pete seemed like an entirely lonesome character, consistently appearing on his own, being the only one to ever visit Maria’s grave.

“You’ve got me,” you whisper to him quietly, and he looks to you now with those deep mahogany eyes, ebony lashes framing his brown irises so beautifully. He doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, shaking his head slightly before letting out another heavy sigh.

“C’mon. You’re gunna catch a death out here.”

“… Well, at least I’d belong,” you point to the gravestones carelessly.

Pete Laughs. A genuine laugh that makes your insides warm. It’s deep and chesty and makes your own lips pull into a smile of their own. You find that when you get into the car after saying goodbye, the cold isn’t as bothersome. You think about that laugh at night before you visit your husband in your dreams. Think about how the two of you can comfort each other without sharing words. It’s a strange bond you’re building, but you realise it’s making your trips to the cemetery a little less burdensome.

-✩-

Day 140

Twenty days. Pete is gone twenty days, the blackness of the night and the brightness of the day all blending together without him. You continue to visit Maria for him, laying flowers some days, always stroking her stone gently to let her know you were there for her. You would talk quietly to Maria, just as you did your husband, about how nice Pete was. How he always looked after you. You wondered if he looked after her this way too.

The day he returns, you’re utterly relieved. A desperate exhale escapes your lungs when you set eyes on him from inside your car. He’s sitting on his side of the bench still, gazing at Maria’s stone. A hoodie covers his hair and hides his eyes with the aid of a worn, black baseball cap, but it’s hard to confuse his abnormally large frame for anyone else.

Carrying your flowers from the car, you first visit your husband. Pete raises his head slightly as you approach, and you note a slight nod of acknowledgement despite not being able to see his face. He doesn't want to interrupt this special time. You both have this silent agreement, never wanting to bother Pete when he’s with Maria, and he grants you that same courtesy. You’re thankful for this. Thankful for him.

You lay the crystal-white lilies down across the grass. It had finally reached the height of the greenery surrounding his plot, covering the freshly dug grave. It’s less unseemly this way, but it reminds you of how long you’ve been without your husband, the love of your life. Stroking across his carved name and pressing a kiss to the curve of the stone, you hold onto these moments tightly, needing to feel close to him.

Finishing up after giving him an update on your day, you stand slowly, approaching Pete on the bench with a weak smile. You cry less with him here. He looked up at you through his long lashes, deep chocolate eyes taking in your expression. It’s only now you see the blue-purple bruises that cover his eye and cheekbone, the split in his brow.

“What the fuck happened to you?!” You gasp, sitting down quickly and taking in his mashed-up face.

“Ah, got jumped by those kids,” he shrugs off your concern, pointing to Maria’s grave in a quick bid to change the topic. “You’ve been looking after Maria while I’ve been gone-“

“No, seriously, are you okay?” You question him softly, eyes scanning his face. He looks like he’s been hit by a car, but Pete looks at you with a pointed expression.

“‘M fine.” His grumble does little to ease your concerns, but you’re kind enough to let him move the conversation along.

Sitting down beside him on the bench, you exhale a loud sigh of frustration. Pete watches you settle beside him, clearing his throat. “Thank you for looking after Maria.” He repeats himself, clearly wanting to make it known he appreciates your help.

“Mhmm. She needed somebody while you were away,” you smile weakly, taking in his pained expression. It was obvious Pete hated leaving Maria alone for weeks on end. He wanted to be with her frequently, just like you with your husband. “Where were you anyway?”

“Business trip,” he mumbles, brushing over his bruised knuckles with his fingertips. The blood blooms beneath the thin skin, deep crimson and violet framed in the yellow-green hue of a dying contusion. He looks exhausted. Whatever business meeting he had must have taken place in an MMA Octagon.

You sigh softly, plucking his paw from off his lap and taking it into your own hands. He’s massive compared to you, veins protruding from the back of his palms. You’re gentle when you massage the blotted skin, eyes flicking up to his face. Pete watches you closely, those brown eyes impossible to read when they settle on you.

“You need some time away from here,” you insist, standing up from the bench and pulling his large hand with you. “Let’s go get coffee.”

“Mhm- I don’t wanna be botherin’ you-“

“It’s no bother! Come on; it will keep me busy,” you insist, a gentle smile on your face in an attempt to coax him out of the depressive cocoon Pete consistently wraps himself in. Maybe you’re imagining things, but you can see the edge of his lips quirk upwards slightly, shaking his head as he stands too.

“Alright,” he agrees, much to your delight. So caught up in the idea that you could brighten his day a little, you forget to let go of his hand as you lead the way, leaving the cars at the cemetery. You’ve stopped at a road crossing halfway to the coffee shop when you realise you’re still grasping onto him, Pete seemingly not having it in himself to burst your little sunshine bubble and ask you to let go of him.

Over a few black coffees and lattes, the two of you have a conversation that doesn’t revolve around your deceased partners for the first time. It lasts for hours. Pete reveals himself as an ex-marine working in Kandahar in Afghanistan, informing you of his interests, like playing the acoustic guitar and reading. You find yourself taken aback, the two very ‘delicate’ interests a contradiction to his rugged persona.

The baseball cap on top of Pete’s head hides his eyes from the setting sunshine that pierces the window you’re sitting beside, but his smile almost seems to shine brighter. It’s infinitely warmer than that orange orb in the sky, simmering in your chest as you smile along with him. You hope you can keep him that happy, never wanting to see him as gloomy as you did that rainy day.

“Pete-“

“Frank.”

You pause, staring at him with an incredulous expression. He takes a sip of his black coffee, exhaling slowly with a ragged breath before looking at you through his long lashes as though he’s shielding himself from the fallout of your reaction.

“My real name is Frank.”

Licking your lips, you take a moment to allow the information to sink in. You’re unsure why he would hide this from you, shield his identity like this- but given his battered state whenever he returned from a ‘business meeting’, you could guess it was due to his line of work. It also informs you it’s better than to go prodding at him, trying to get answers. The less you knew, probably the better.

“Frank…” You correct yourself slowly, to which his eyes duck to the surface of the table as if he finds the grain in the oak wood oddly fascinating. “What d’ya say we head back to my place so I can offer you a drink that’s a little more satisfying?”

It’s your turn to catch him off guard now, his eyes snapping up quickly to process your expression- as if he thinks you’re lying. His mouth falls open to answer you, but no sound comes out, his brain running quicker than his lips can follow.

“There’s no pressure,” you inform him gently despite your heart rapping violently against your ribcage. You glance towards the clock that hangs from the wall opposite your table, “But the shop is closing soon, and I don’t really feel like ending our conversation here.”

Frank’s eyes flick to the wall and then back to you, nodding slightly as if to urge himself onward.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

-✩-

The bronze brandy you hold in a crystal glass blurs your vision as you listen to Frank talk about his time in the military while sitting cross-legged on your living room floor. He won’t tell you much, insisting upon not bringing the mood down with gruesome tales of IEDs and blue-on-blue fire. Instead, he offers you stories of his friends Curtis and Billy.

An ache settles in your tailbone where you're seated on the carpet, just across from your guests' boots. Frank has settled into an armchair, swirling his brandy in the glass that looks minute in his giant paws. You don’t have it in you to move to the sofa, wanting to be close to him and take in his finer details.

In the low light of the living room, you can’t help but get lost in the contours of his face. His misshapen nose, the length of his ebony eyelashes and the curve of his Cupid’s bow. At some point, you lose track of the conversation, caught up in the view of his pecs beneath the grey cotton of his T-shirt. It’s evident that Frank is huge, but in this overhead lighting you can see the shadows of his muscular body beneath the sofa material, and you can’t help how your mouth almost waters.

“You good?” Frank’s voice cuts through your needy haze, your eyes snapping up quickly to focus back on his face. He’s watching you with a raised eyebrow.

“Y-Yes! Yes, I’m fine, honestly!” You insist, embarrassment upheaving your intoxicated stomach as he nods slowly, obviously taking note of how you had been staring at him. He could read you like a book, and had been able to since the day he saw you crying in the cemetery with a beer in your hand. How many days, weeks, months has it been since then? He made the days move quicker, always looked forward to seeing him.

“Have I overstayed my welcome?” He queries carefully, his eyes flitting to the picture frames that contain your happier memories of your deceased husband. It takes your drink-laden brain a moment to catch up to what he’s inferring.

“God, no!”

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m- tryna insert myself. I’m not tryna replace him-“

“Frank,” you plead, voice cracking on the single-syllable name like it’s a desperate lifeline. “I am so fucking lonely. I’m so empty.”

Fuck.

It slips out of you so easily in your distress, anguished by the idea he might walk out of the door and leave you to spend your evening alone. Your heart plummets into your stomach when you see his expression shift, a look of surprise settling into the fine lines on his face.

“Hey now,” he whispers when he sees tears welling in your eyes, his gruff voice husky with the low volume. Frank leans forward in the armchair, reaching down and hooking his hands under you. You’re too overwhelmed to fight off his embrace, and his firm hold pulls you to your feet and settles you on his lap.

It’s intimate. You can feel the warmth of his body through his layers of clothing, and his forehead runs hot when he presses it to yours. The brandy makes your skin prickle where he touches you, his breath tickling your face as he breathes slowly and calmly.

“Deep breaths in, go on. You’re fine, I promise.”

His words of encouragement settle your hiccups. Your sobs tearing at your throat, sink back into your chest, and you exhale shakily with him, following his rhythm.

“Attagirl,” he murmurs, praising you for bringing yourself down from the emotional cliff you had just threatened to throw yourself off. “That’s good.”

You don’t know when it shifts. When the churning agony in the pit of your stomach twists into a warm buzz of something a little more addictive. His nose bumps yours as he holds you, forehead still pushed up against your own. His body dwarfs you, his palms on your hips smothering the flesh there. Your heart leaps.

When his lips brush yours, it’s not a kiss. It’s a whisper. It’s barely there, and it tickles your nerve endings. You whimper softly, your own lips parting as you feel his mouth skirt around yours, just barely teasing at the supple flesh.

Your breathing labours once more, but this time its breathy keens instead of the rattling sobs he’d just pushed aside. His fingers skirt up the hem of your sweater, his warm, calloused pads trailing the ridges of your spine and sparking a heavy need.

“Frank,” you whisper, and it edges on a whine. The rumbling response that rattles in his lungs has your heart lurching out of the cavity of your chest.

You expect a burst, a sudden lurch towards something more primal, but Frank’s hand slowly drags up your throat to hold underneath your jaw. His grip is gentle, feather-light as he slightly tilts your chin to press a fuller kiss to your mouth. It’s so soft, his hulking body so delicate with you as he pulls you into him ever so slightly.

Brandy burns on his lips, and you can taste it, smell it on his tongue. It’s fruity and sweet with notes of oak that match the scent of his cologne. You’re breathing into his mouth, disarmed by the tenderness he offers you and losing any and all hope of a confident persona.

Trembling, your hands lay limp on his chest, fingers balling around the black cotton T-shirt he wears. They’re pulling at the fabric, clinging onto literally anything they can find because you feel like you’re floating, the alcohol in your system burning up and being replaced by the far more intoxicating kisses.

“Y’okay?” He whispers to you, lips barely leaving yours as he does. You’re nodding because God knows you can’t string together a sentence right now.

You could cry. His scabbed knuckles reach up to brush at the skin of your cheek, and you feel an overwhelming surge of emotion. These hands, the same that evidently found violence a more persuasive argument, were so affectionate with you. It was as though Frank disarmed the fighter in him, turning on the safety and locking him in the back of his mind.

A part of you finds inspiration in his demobilisation, urging yourself to let go of the safety blanket you were clinging to. Your hands slip down his front, feeling the ridges and contours of his fit, muscular body through his shirt as it descends. It’s as though your body lights up when you push your fingers underneath the hem of the cotton, buzzing hot between your thighs with a feeling you’d long forgotten.

“Mhmm,” Frank hums softly against your mouth, feeling your palms explore the smooth skin and the rippling muscles beneath. Your hips lift slightly from his lap, moaning as something throbs through you. It’s sickly sweet and drips like honey, and you find yourself chasing the awakening of a side of you that had been neatly stored in a box and left at your husband's bedside.

“You don’t need to,” he mumbles, and he’s right. You don’t. But you’ve never wanted something as much as you want this, every atom, every proton, neutral and electron of your body vibrating with a panging ache

“I want to,” you reply, the words like cotton in your mouth as you watch his eyes flit across your face. He takes you in, drinks in your beauty and commits it all to memory in a way only a widower would- spurred by the underlying fear of waking tomorrow having forgotten the little details. How long your lashes are, how your lip quivers when he runs his palms up either side of your ribs. The look in your eyes when your eyes lock; that sheer drop hanging above a four-letter word that’s too early to say aloud yet settles between the moments of shared silence.

“C’mere.”

-✩-

Frank’s palm settles on your throat as he sinks into your heat, his fingers lightly pressing into the curve of your jaw on one side, his thumb on the other. He applies no pressure there and simply holds you as he whispers praise against the angle of your cheekbone.

You clasp his bare shoulders with trembling hands, moaning out his name as he slides into you ever so slowly. Ragged scars litter the skin of his shoulders- slash wounds and destruction left by bullets. You decorate them with little, red crescent indents, your nails digging into his skin as you bloom around his cock.

“Pretty Girl,” he mumbles softly, and you let out a slightly pained whine as you stretch to fit him, “I know, baby. I know. D’you need me to stop?”

Frank’s words are slurred together as he holds himself back, knuckles white as they grip the bed sheets. You shake your head quickly, horrified by the prospect.

“D-Don’t stop,” you wheeze, your cunt fluttering around him. The stretch is delicious, the mild pain arcing something hot up your spine.

The sinews in his jaw flex as he rolls his hips forward, rocking into you fully. His thighs settle against the curve of your ass, and he presses kiss after kiss to your temple as he peppers you in compliments.

“You’re so good, bein’ so good for me,”

“That’s it, Good Girl. Can feel you relaxin’ for me.”

“There? S’That it? Yeah, that’s it.”

Frank’s forearms settle on either side of your head, his palm resting on your crown to steady your body as he begins to thrust into you. You wail softly, back arching off the pillows as he slides out of you, and back in. He touches something inside you that makes your vision blur, fizzing like static.

Each time he works his way out of you, your cunt tightens around the head of his cock in a desperate attempt to keep him there- a subconscious fear that he’ll disappear beneath the earth too.

“I’m right here,” he breathes, one of his hands moving to the inside of your thigh to push your legs wider. When he slots his hips against yours again, his pubic bone grinds against your clit. “M’not goin’ anywhere.”

You sob. Frank’s winding your arousal up and up, pulling it right until you feel it throbbing around the edges of your being. His fat cock-head pushes up against something that obliterates you, punching the air from your lungs and making you choke around his name.

“That’s it Darlin’… That’s it,” he coaxes you, slipping his ring finger over the hood of your clit and rubbing in tight little circles.

Blackness- you think. Or you’re so far gone that your mind can no longer process what you’re seeing. Your orgasm bears down on you with an intensity that has your thighs quaking around Frank’s hips, your toes curling and cramping as you wail his name.

The afterglow embers continue to smoulder hours after you settle into his arms. Frank lays on his side, tracing his fingers over the divot of your spine as you gaze up at him. He’s tired; you can see it in his half-lidded eyes, the edges of sleep creeping up on his mind.

His lips are kiss swollen, his shoulders red and littered with scratches you had no idea that you had inflicted upon him.

Despite your embarrassment, Frank had smiled when he saw them—made a joke that you’d added to his collection of scars.

Though sleep also threatens to pull you under, your eyes are naturally drawn to the golden necklace that hangs from Frank’s neck. A golden wedding band hangs from the chain, glinting warmly under the low lighting of the lamp settled on the bedside table. You reach for it, tracing the circumference with the pad of your thumb.

Frank pauses for a moment, watching your mind work behind your eyes as you fall into the depths of your brain. It’s a sobering moment, knowing Maria and your husband hang over you both- feeling their loss once more. You don’t hide your thoughts from Frank for long, looking up at him through your lashes and holding your breath.

“… Do you think they’d approve?”

The man settled under the covers beside you doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turns his palm over, brushing his knuckles over your cheekbone. You melt for him, leaning into his affections as you wrap your hand around his wrist. His pulse thrums in his veins beneath the thin skin, and it’s beautiful, a perfect tempo.

“I think they’d approve of whatever made us happy.”

Happy. You’d forgotten what happiness was, how it felt and tasted following the death of your husband. It evaded your every attempt to grasp at it. Only now did you rediscover the elusive state of mind. It was different to what you remember, almost foreign.

It felt like body-warmed bed covers. Like wet sneakers and cuts on beer bottle glass. It tastes like brandy and smells like coffee shops. It looked like Frank.

You release the breath you’d trapped in your throat, feeling the weight of grief shift ever so slightly from your shoulders.

“I think so too.”

END

authors note: I began this fic in July of 2022. It’s been sat in my WIPs folder all this time, and I finally managed to find a way to finish it. I don’t feel like it’s perfect, but I do love it very much. I hope you do too.

🏷️ Tags: @hoeneey @howaboutcastiel @welcometostayingawake @syrma-sensei @ethanhoewke @foxilayde @bookfrog242 @wh0reforbucknasty @zakizigekwe @ahookedheroespureheart @buckys-other-punk @anxious-sappho @alexloveskili @captainrexstan @knights-power @southcrnbelle @niallsbunny @hold-our-destiny @vermillionwinter @stormkobra-5 @erenbissexual @alwritey-aphrodite @maggotzombie @deadpige0n @bakerstreethound @whatthehekko @cottagebunny9 @bit-dodgy-innit @peachyproserpina @pedrosprincess @inklore

397 notes · View notes

igotanidea · 1 year

Text

Castle of glass: Frank Castle x fem!reader

my fav @somest1 was in need of hurt/comfort with Punisher so how could I refuse? :D :D

A/N: My first Frank fanfiction so pls, be understanding since he may be a bit ooc.

Summary: Secrets and understatements are relationship killers. And Frank is walking on thin ice with it. In his case, this may be the reason of someone getting phisically hurt.

***

„Frank.”

The only answer was his back turned to her and silent hum, barely audible, almost like a sign he acknowledged her presence, not able to ignore it, but didn’t wish to talk.

“Frank.” She tried again, this time her voice stronger, more confident, yet not enough to make him speak. “Damn it, Castle, answer me, what the hell happened!?

“Nothing you should be worrying about.” He muttered not changing position to face her and his behavior finally made her loose it.

“Nothing…? Nothing I should be worrying about?! Do you even hear yourself, Frank? Your face is all over the news! People are after you!”

“It’s nothing” he insisted

“God damn it, why are you so stubborn?” she circled the room and sat on the carpet in front of him in an attempt to catch his attention, but of course, since he was the Punisher, intimidating, tough and unwavering he did not give up. At least for the first five minutes. “Frank.” She spoke again silently reaching for his hand making him raise head and focus eyes on her face “Come on, tell me. What did you do?”

“Do you trust me?” he asked with that hoarse, a bit shaking voice.

“Frank…..” Y/N eyes looks so pleading, almost begging him to stop playing whatever game this was

“Do you?”

“Of course I do. But…..”

“Then I need you to keep doing that.” He grabbed her hand tighter “Whatever you hear or see I need you to believe me. Do you understand? They will try to play with your mind, break us apart, set you against me. “

“Who….?” Her voice shook a bit “Frank, you are scaring me now….”

“I’m sorry, honey. But I can’t say anything more. It will put you in more danger than…..”

“So I am in danger?”

“I will protect you.” he assured

“Mhm. I’m sure. But who will protect you?”

“I can handle myself.”

“Right. You’ve got enough prove of that on your face and all over your body. Why are you still doing this?”

“I need to set some things straight.”

“I don’t understand a single thing from what you are saying to me.” She stood up abruptly and once again started circling the room in nerves, not able to sit still and look at him, still unfazed. He was so withdrawn and persistent. Always feeling like he had to carry the weight of the world on his shoulder. Torn between not wanting to drag anyone into his mess and yet, ending up making people that cared about him with mixed emotions – stress, fear, anger, pain…..

“I need you to …..”

“Trust you, you said it!” she spat “And I already told you I do! But you are making it nearly impossible for me. I never asked you to change, all right! All I needed from you was honesty.” She sighed deeply, frustrated and feeling betrayed. “Why won’t you keep me in the dark, Frank? Still. We’ve been together for a while now and….”

“And look where it got you!” he raised and took a step towards her, his clenched fists and narrowed eyes making her stumble back. “Look how your life looks like right now! No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try you are still scared!”

“I……”

“What, huh? What?!” he yelled at her not realizing how his emotions were controlling him now

“This is so unfair, Frank.” She sobbed “you are being unfair. And wrong. I am not scared about my life. I am scared about you. I know your past, I know what you did, all that violence and hardheadedness. And I know that other part you are trying to cover up for so much. I know that you care, I know that you are not a monster people portray you like. But it’s so fucking hard to have to discover it all by myself, because you won’t tell me a single thing!”

“I can’t!”

“Of course you can’t! Of course you can’t tell my why you are accused of a shooting in the Hell’s kitchen! I’m sure you can’t explain to me why your former lawyers and my closest friends are calling me asking what the fuck you are doing.”

“Murdock?”

“Yes, Matt and Foggy. Oh, and Karen. She is fairly disappointed in you, let me let you. Not that is bothers you, of course. You are that one person who are stuck so much in your own ways you can’t change them! You’d rather burn than speak!”

“Y/N…..”

“I trust you Frank, I really do. But you are stepping on very, very thin ice right now. And I think I need to be alone for a while. You can go fix whatever mess you got yourself into and ….. possibly find me later.”

“I need you to stay here. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Mhm, sure. See you later Frank” she turned around crossing her arms, the only sound she heard was slamming of the door. Stay here, damn my ass! He is not the boss of me. Y/N clenched her hands and without any more hesitation reached for the phone, dialing familiar number.

“Karen? I got s story and I think I could use your help in pursuit.”

***

“Thanks again for your help, Karen. You are like the only person I could ask for this favor.”

“I know. I would never back down from a good story.”

“The one that can set things straight?” Y/N raised an eyebrow at her blonde friend, unknowingly using the same words Frank choose while speaking to her a few hours later.

“Hey, you help Frank, I help Matt.”

“ So the devil got himself in some trouble as well.”

“Can’t remember the time where he did not.” Karen sighed “the shooting?”

“So you’ve heard…..”

“Y/N, be serious, everyone heard. It’s all over the news.”

“So I guess Matt believed it?”

“No.”

“No?” Y/N frowned. Considering Matt’s character and his relationship with Frank, both in civil and in the other impersonation this was quite surprising .

“No.” Karen shook her head “If anything, he had one of those hunch of his, you know what I mean” Karen rolled her eyes “and despite any rational argument decided to get to the bottom of it. Figure out who was a real perpetrator behind this …. Massacre.” And it got news talking about devil turning to the dark side.”

“This is not good. They are not in the best of terms and if they meet ……”

“They’ll be fine. We saw them working together before.”

“And it got them both bloodied and beaten up.”

“Nothing new, I guess.” The blonde shrugged

“And yet we are here to do exactly the same thing.”

“You are too modest, Y/N. We both know we are way better than both of them combined.”

“I’ll drink to that.” The girls laughed lightly. It was nice to have somewhat humorous approach but deep inside they were aware of the seriousness of the task they were up for.

***

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

Two men were standing on the rooftop in front of each other. A second ago one of them was crouching on the edge, observing the group in the opposite building, but hearing soft landing behind reached for his gun and pointed it towards the other.

“Come on, Frank, I come in peace.” Matt Murdock in his Daredevil gear smirked “if I didn’t know better I would say you are scared.”

“You value yourself too much, Red.”

“And that is coming from you.”

Slowly Matt moved towards Frank and the latter lowered the weapon.

“I believe we have common interests here.”

“I work alone.”

“So do I. But this time ….”

“It’s no different this time.”

“It is.”

“You’re starting to get on my nerves here, Murdock.” Matt did not even bother to reply to that accusation. “I’m gonna ask you once again – why. The hell. Are you. here?”

“I got some bad press.” As if that sentence wasn’t vague enough

“So?”

“I need to clear my name.”

“You mean, devil’s name.” Frank snorted “I never took for the one who cared about reputation.”

“The girls are chasing this story as well.”

“Y/N?” Frank’s heartrate picked up significantly and Matt smirked. They had a fight.

“Alongside with Karen.”

“I told her to …..”

“And she is known for her listening, right? The only way to keep them safe is if we uncover the truth first. You know I’m right.”

“I hate you, Red.”

“What have you got till now?’

Seems like they were about to work together after all.

***

“So there was no suspicious activity in the neighborhood in that time?” Y/N was interrogating one of the residents in the area with her most doe-like eyes, acting all innocent, like a scared little girl. This was something that always got people soft and talking.

“Sorry, doll. I was watching a football match. Heard nothing due to all my shouting. Can you imagine that this damn team….”

“Thank you so much, sir.” she cut him off and walked away before he could get the chance to bore her with all the unimportant sport details.

“Anything?” Karen asked when Y/N crossed the street and approached her.

“Nope. Apart from some new knowledge of insects and soccer. You?”

“I may have a lead.”

“Of course you do. I don’t understand how you do that …..”

“Practice” Karen smiled “we will have to go to one of the bad areas.”

“Are there any different ones here, because I don’t think so.”

“But it’s getting dark, we will have to be careful.”

“Tell me something new, Karen. You are the one with the gun in your purse, so I guess I will have to hide behind you if we get in trouble. Now, where do we go?”

***

“Tell us what you know!” Matt and Frank where alternately yelling at the bloodied and almost unconscious man, five or six others defeated on the floor, leaving a gruesome trail of their actions.

“you two truly are pathetic and desperate….” The crime boss known under the alias Gold laughed mockingly “I’m not a snitch. You’ll get nothing from me.”

“I bet we can find a way to ….” Frank put a gun towards Gold’s head almost expecting Matt to stop him, but it never came.

“You assume your little gun can help you, Castle. Funny as it is. I’m not afraid of death….”

“You’re not dying just yet.” Matt hissed “it won’t be so easy……”

***

Karen and Y/N hesitantly approached suspiciously looking dive bar, the feeling of danger amplified by the quietness of the district and by the flicking street lights.

“Karen…..”

“I know……”

“Maybe we should……?”

“But we’ve come so far…..”

“But still, this is way above our level of expertise …….”

“As much as I hate to admit it, you may be right.”

“So, do we?”

“Not so fast you two!” deep voice made two girls froze in the spot. Soon they heard footsteps of many other people around, surrounding them, blocking any way out.

“Shit.” Both girls hissed in unison getting closer to each other in poor attempt to stay calm.

***

“Will you hurry up, RED?!”

“You are the one who are slowing us down!”

“Shut the fuck up! Y/N is in danger now!”

“So is Karen!”

***

“Sweet, little, pathetic and innocent little girls. You came here looking for trouble or fun?”

“We can give you fun.”

“Even if it’s just going to be such from our point of view.”

Y/N and Karen were captured, taken to the basement and thrown into the middle of it, five criminals watching them like prays. While Y/N decided it would be best to just stay quiet and not give them any satisfaction Karen had a different plan in her head.

“Are you all responsible for the firefight?”

“Are you a journalist, dearie? You want information? Guess you will have to work harder to get any.”

“I don’t really need them. I already figured out the truth.”

“Karen.” Y/N hissed warning her friend not to go any further with her words.

“Relax, I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” the other girl hissed “I think you act delusional! Can’t you see, we are in deep shit!”

“Well, well, well, I guess we got one who got some reason inside.” One of the man chuckled “good for you, girl. If you …. entertain us, we may even consider letting you out. As for your friend, not so sure. She is way too unruly, for her own good.” He came closer grabbing Karen’s chin making her look straight into his face.

“How would you like me to entertain you?” Y/N’s sultry voice distracted him enough to let go .

“I’ve got some ideas. First of all, I don’t like that little T-shirt of yours.”

“Y/N what the hell are you doing?!” Karen cried ‘Stop it!”

“Hush, quiet, I’m sure we can work our way with those gentlemen.”

“Willing one, aren’t you. I like it.”

“Do you? Maybe you can convince my friend to join the game as well. What do you wish to do with us?”

“I’ve had so many girls during the years, you know, baby. So many different races transported from one place to another, here and there but you are the only one who are so open to the ideas”

“How am I different from them?” Y/N continued her flirting “is it my voice? My lips? My body?”

“They were always fighting. When we captured them and talked calmly they never listened. Just like your friend. Little sluts. We had to use some pills to actually convince them.”

“Oh….. how rude of them.” It was getting harder to keep the serious voice. This idiot had no idea what he was just doing, hypnotized by her words and the way she was sticking out her breasts.

“But you….. I might keep you to myself. You seem far too precious to sell you to anyone else.”

“Can you untie me then?”

“Boss!” before Y/N got what she wanted the person who was on the lookout outside came running inside

“What the fuck, now!?”

“We got company! And I don’t mean those girls! Daredevil and Punisher!”

“WHAT! You brought them here!?”

“We did not!”

“Right. Like I believe you! And we were just getting acquainted! Too bad I will be forced to hurt you, baby. Just like I did before when someone got too interested in my business and we had to open fire. Now come here, little one” he grabbed Y/N pointing towards one of his minder instructing him to do the same with Karen. “We’re leaving.”

***

“Get the girls! I’ll hold them back!”

***

“Y/N!” shooting left and right Frank got the room where the boss escaped with the girls, now keeping Y/N close to his, pointing a knife to her throat. “Let her go or I’ll kill you.”

“Before the bullet gets to me she’ll be already bleeding out. If you lower your gat however I may consider letting her go.

“Bullshit!”

“Right. It is, pure bullshit.” He smiled vindiclively and without any hesitation slit the girl’s throat.

“Y/N!” Frank and Karen yelled and from that moment the events turned unexpected turn.

***

Four people were crowded in the tiny room. Foggy joined his friends as soon as he could, after receiving disturbing call from Karen who was sobbing and in shaky voice described him what happened.

Three of them dressed neatly in black, the last one refusing to choose this color and instead straying in his casual, ruffled clothes. Karen had flowers in her hands but she lacked any strength to hold them properly so they dangled dolefully. No one said a single word and it made the whole situation even more tragic. This is not how it was supposed to go. This was never supposed to happen.

Each one of them, were immersed in their own thoughts and feelings.

Karen was utterly broken, Foggy still processing the situation (since he wasn’t present at the scene), Matt angry and Frank….. Frank was just standing in front of the window, without a single emotion on his face. His whole body stiff, his eyes unmoving, fists clenched. It was his fault. Again. It was all on him. She was right from the beginning. If he was honest with her it would never ended up like this. This was on him and he would never never live it through.

“Frank….” Karen noticed the catatonic state he was in and approached him quietly “frank?”

“FUCK!” he yelled taking her by surprise even if it was predictable.

“It’s not….” she started

“Don’t even started it. It is because of me! I should have stopped her and now…. now…..” his voice broke

“Y/N’s sot the person who could be stopped and you know it.”

“I just can’t …..” acting out of character he hid his face in hands “not again…..”

Seconds after Y/N got her throat cut, Matt came running through the door, aiming straight at the crime boss taking him down in a few, well aimed punches and kicks. Only then he had some time to wrap his head around the situation. Karen was crying and shaking on the ground next to Frank, who was holding Y/N in his arms, cradling her close, getting his hands and chest dirty and bloodied with her blood flowing freely.”

“It’s gonna be all right, baby, it’s gonna be all right. Just stay with me, please.”

“Frank.” Matt’s voice got the other man’s attention “We need to….”

“No. No, we don’t need to anything. I will take her.”

“Be serious. We are still wanted. We can’t just walk into the hospital. I’ll call Claire, she will help us. Fuck! Take the help, Frank. You’re not the only one who cares about her!”

Castle just muttered something under his nose but nodded and as quick as it was possible they transported bleeding out girl to the medical facility hoping it was not too late to save her.

While Frank carried Y/N outside something dropped from the girl’s pocket. Dictating machine. She got it all on record. The confession of the criminals. Now, thanks to her sacrifice, it was possible to set things straight.

“It’s gonna be fine, Frank. We will…..”

“It’s time.” Foggy interrupted them before any words were said. “We can go in now.”

“Maybe we should let Frank do it alone at first.” Matt chimed in “we can wait.” His eyes crossed Frank’s who just nodded and surprisingly quiet entered the adjacent room.

***

The clarity, sterility and brightness of the place was tragicomic contract to the way he looked like in his dark, messy clothes. Y/N was lying in the bed in the middle, looking innocent, pale, fragile and to small surrounded by the much bigger bedframe. Just another victim of rumble she should never be involved in, hurt, broken and yet, so peaceful. Frank clenched his jaws, since this was the only way for him to avoid screaming or breaking something. He could not stand seeing her this way. So…. lifeless. Seconds stretched into hours when he approached her, examining girl’s face.

“Y/n…..” he spoke with desperation in his voice, begging any higher entity he did not believe in to bring her back to him. “please…..”

“ Frank….?” Y/n stirred in her sleep, the first word in her lips being his name. And then she open eyes, her e/c orbs meeting his. “Hi…..” she whispered softly.

“ Y/N…..” he grabbed her hand, bringing it to his face “I thought I lost you…..”

“How …. How long was I out?”

“Three days.”

“What happened?” she tried to lift herself up, but since it took too much strength she gave up and fell back onto the pillows.

“How much do you remember?”

“I…..” her hand involuntarily travelled to her throat “do I have a scar? Am I a badass now?”

“You were always a badass.” He admitted “Y/n…. I’m sorry…..”

“For what?”

“You were right.”

“Hm? Can you say that again? I was right?”

“Don’t.” he warned, corners of his lips lifting slightly

“Ok. But I need you to promise me something Frank. Right now, while you looking at me here. I need you to swear to me you will be honest with me from this time on. So I can help, having all the information. So I won’t have to search for my own and get hurt. Or worse, see you hurt. I am not a helpless little girl you take me for.”

“You surely look like one now, sweetheart. I was really scared about you. The doctors barely saved you……”

“This is a taste of your own medicine, dear. Now you know what it feels like to see the person you care about broken and hurting. Now, promise me.”

“I promise” he whispered leaning down and kissing her forehead in the most affectionate way he could, hoping she would get the silent message he could not relay with words. I love you.

“Will you stay with me? I’m sure Matt, Karen and Foggy are out wanting to see me, but I just want you for a while.”

“Always.”

@pinksirensong

154 notes · View notes