the-end--of--the-line

[the-end--of--the-line]

for me?

Frank Castle x f!reader | wc ~1.7 k | explicit, mdni | ao3

summary: Frank's lap is the best place for dry humping and being fingered

warnings: no y/n, barely any plot except ✨they are fwb and in denial✨, making out while sitting in Frank's lap, dry humping until it's not, fingering (f receiving), Frank talking you through it, finger sucking because it's me, squint and you miss possessive Frank, affectionate smacks on the ass, petnames (pretty girl, 1x attagirl 🫦), hand on the throat but just for the aesthetics, pussy pronouns, dm me if I missed any, not beta'd because I'm rebellious

a/n: another drabble for my follower milestone event, thank you nonnie for requesting "and what do we have here?". i just need to ride Frank so bad, blame this month's ovulation. 😩 a big thank you and a smooch to @guiltyasdave for literally sitting with me while I was writing this 💛💛💛

There were too many feelings for something casual. For something to just take the edge of.

“You're needin’ me too much, pretty girl,” Frank says when he rests his head in your lap.

“We shouldn't meet this often, just makes things complicated,” you say when you put your stuff in a drawer he has emptied out for you.

“Can never make you happy,” he whispers against your forehead before he places a lingering kiss there.

Maybe you both turned blind to the obvious. Or just got comfortable in the coziness of your ignorance. Whatever it is, neither of you wants to stop playing pretend. Just friends. Just casual. No big deal. We can stop anytime, you both say, like addicts lying straight to themselves.

“Don't need you,” you murmur and climb into his lap.

“Don't need you either,” he replies, gruff voice polished all soft in the crook of your neck.

“Just want you.”

“Mhmm,” he hums, his hands roaming up your thighs to your ass and he pulls you deeper into his lap. Wanting you to feel him.

You learned quickly that there were hardly any boundaries for Frank's hands. What they wanted to break, they broke. What they wanted to rip open, they ripped open. What they wanted to touch, they got to touch.

“Frank,” you whine quietly, pushing back into his hands, dragging your lips up his neck and along his jawline. Whining again when his dark scruff burns on your lips. Yelping when he smacks you and kneads your stinging flesh.

“I know, pretty girl,” he mutters into your ear and nips your earlobe.

He knows. You see it in his eyes the moment before you start kissing. Making out, your hands gripping the backrest of the couch and the back of his neck. He knows you need him. Want him. Not just benefits and friendship.

“Jus’ like that,” Frank grunts, sucking your lip between his. His hands, unbounded in their will to unravel you, start pulling and pushing. Guiding you in your movements when you need no guidance. You let him move you willingly.

He drags you over all the hard parts, belt and bulge. He draws soft sounds out of you, soft and sweet, and he eats them right out of your mouth.

It's leisurely, rolling and rubbing against each other just for the sake of getting drunk on each other, desperate for the other one, hungry for the feeling of hot skin on hot skin. Frank waits until you whine his name, until you breathe more heavily from humping him like a desperate little thing.

He’s patient, he’s able to push his own needs aside, still a soldier, still serving.

“Touch me,” you breathe out with your lips swollen from his nips. Shaky from the relentless back and forth on Frank’s lap.

A finger slips under your top, then two and three fingers. You whine again because it is not what you want. But his nails scraping over your lower back are better than nothing. He shifts, pushes his hips upwards, spreading his legs even wider. He is so hard in his jeans. If you’d care to look down you would see a dark spot in the denim.

If he'd care to look down he would see a dark spot in your short, too.

You press down, in need of more friction when the slick in your panties barely lets you feel any. He grunts, fingers digging into your back and then slipping into the back of your shorts. With a handful of your ass he holds you in place and grinds up into you.

“No. Touch me!”

He grins when you whine again, another breathy complaint coming from you.

“'m touchin’ you, pretty girl. Feel that?”

You do. You feel his other hand slipping behind the elastics and fabric. His fingers connect one spot with another with a tender brush, zigzagging his way deeper into your panties.

“Mhmmm, and what do we have here?” Frank doesn't have to do much searching or probing, he can feel your arousal right on his fingertips.

“Is this for me?” he asks, his nose nudging your chin, making you look at him. “All this wet and just for me?”

You nod your head, unable to put up an act whenever he is like this, so sweet. “Yes,” you breathe softly, “‘s for you.”

“Thought so,” he murmurs, and you can feel each word rumble in his chest.

Frank looks at you, brown eyes flitting over your face. Your droopy lids, your lips ajar the tiniest bit with the tip of your tongue between your teeth. Your impatience shows with how your shoulders tense up. You're holding your breath. Waiting for the impact.

He dips one finger between your folds and smiles when you whimper. He adds a second finger, moves them back and forth, coating you and him with your slick. Curls his fingers, wedged tightly against your entrance.

“Frank,” you whisper and your muscles tighten even more. Ready to pounce. Ready to be pounced.

His hand, the one still on your ass, pulls you closer and onto his two fingers. Joint for joint Frank spreads you open until he's nestled inside you. Knuckles deep with your pussy clenching around him.

“‘s for me, right?” he husks and kisses your moan right off your lips when he pulls you back again with the handful of your ass. “She's just for me? Tell me, pretty girl.”

“Yes,” you whisper, your lips ghosting over his.

His fingers slip back inside you when he pushes you forward again. Frank grunts, satisfied with your answer and your slick walls gripping his fingers. “That's right, pretty girl.”

He's guiding your movements, just like before. Back and forth, letting you fuck yourself on his fingers. Allowing you to bite into the coiled muscles of his shoulder and neck when you want to go faster than he lets you to.

He knows you, knows where to push and rub, when to a third finger, only for a few thrusts, and when to leave you on the edge with just two of his fat fingers stuffing you.

With every tilt of your hip you grind against the heel of his palm, every cant bringing you closer. You tighten and clench, your hands grab for anything that is Frank. His arms or chest. Knowing he doesn't mind it when you forget about being gentle, when you can't really be anything else but gentle. Just desperate and aching, just for him.

“Need me so bad you gonna cum.”

It's not a question. It's a simple fact. Stated with a low hiss when your nails leave small halfmoon imprints on the taught skin of his arms.

What his hands want to break, they'll break. They will ruin and wreck as they please. And so it's three fingers again with the next thrust. Buried inside you, all the way to his calloused knuckles. Making you whimper and your pussy squelch.

“Gonna cum on my fingers? So needy for me you gonna cum all over my hand?” he asks, voice just as breathy as your moans.

Your eyes lock with his for a moment, and if your cunt clamping down on his three digits isn't already proof enough of how close you are, the look on your face is.

He curls his fingers, almost hooking himself inside of you, right where you need it and where only Frank manages to reach. You start rocking against his palm, pinned down by three fingers and just enough range of motion to rub your clit against his hand, coated with your arousal.

“Jus’ like that, pretty girl. Take what you need. Make yourself cum for me,” Frank groans and moves the hand from your ass up, higher, squeezing whichever of your curves he passes on his way to your neck.

And while you fuck yourself stupid on his fingers he gently wraps his hand around your throat.

Holding you up just slightly, holding you in place, holding you close to him. Holding your gaze.

Seeing your face twitch while he feels your cunt twitch. Seeing your eyes roll back when he changes the angle of his fingers and pushes into deeper, just a little bit, just to let you feel the stretch of his knuckles.

You moan his name one last time before you cum. A feral expression is edged into Frank's face now. The last thing you see is his tongue wetting his lips, then your vision turns white.

This is the part he loves most, seeing you letting go, just for him and only because of him. He loves the way your brows pinch together with each wave of your orgasm, loves the way you lose control of your body and are just held together by his hands.

“That's it, pretty girl,” he praises between his own groans, feeding you each one of them, right into your opened mouth. “I got you. You're doin’ so good for me.”

He's rubbing the heel of his palm to your sensitive clit until you start squirming.

“Frank, it's too much,” you whine, but Frank is not yet loosening his hold on your throat. He's still holding you in place, right where you belong. In his lap.

“Thought you wanted me to touch you? Ain't that right?” He chuckles, all rough and warm, like his hand between your legs, but then eases up. “Attagirl,” he murmurs and distracts you from pulling his fingers out of you with a harsh kiss.

A kiss that gets sweeter the moment a finger slips through your lips, followed by a second. You moan at the taste of your pussy, sucking Frank's digits deeper into your mouth.

“You're too greedy, pretty girl,” Frank says and pulls his fingers back only to lick the third one clean himself. “You're too needy, told ya.”

You roll your hips, knowing exactly that he is painfully hard.

“You're looking pretty needy, too, y’know?” you smirk, rocking against his bulge once more. Your move elicits one of his reluctant grunts from him.

“We gotta stop doing this,” Frank huffs, his hand already going from your neck to his belt buckle. “Ain't gonna end well.”

“Too many words,” you chide, working his fly open. “Too many clothes.”

You push your hand into his jeans, his cock hard and hot in your palm.

“Is this for me, Frank?”

thank you for reading, let me know how you liked it. i'd love to get some feedback on my first Frank fic <333

drabbles bribery masterlist here

general masterlist here

dividers: @saradika-graphics

[the-end--of--the-line]

frank castle taking off your makeup when you're too tired or too sleepy to do it yourself.

he will sit you on the bathroom counter as he mutters to himself, sorting through your skincare to find your micellar water.

frank shakes his head, half amused. "so many fuckin' products."

"maybe to a guy who exclusively uses bar soap," you murmur. you might be functioning at a barely conscious capacity— eyes half lidded and hardly able to sit upright— but you won't miss an opportunity to quip back.

"it's practical."

you laugh softly at his defense, as he gently takes your chin between calloused fingers, tilting your face upwards.

you're impossibly adorable— frank can't resist but place a quick kiss to your forehead before beginning to wipe off your makeup.

[the-end--of--the-line]

sighh,,,,

Frank noticing my small whimpers, straightening out to peer at me, hand coming to my cheek cradling it as he tilts his head, “what’s wrong princess ?” he asks, intent on trying to figure out whats wrong, before a shaky sob leaves my throat “too much franky…” it comes out broken and instinctually Franks eyes drop to where we’re connected, fat cock stuffed halfway into my stretched cunt, pulling out an inch and noticing the streaks of blood on his shaft, that makes Frank frown.

Tender hands rubbing his thumb along the apples of my cheek, “i’m sorry doll.” he drawls, fighting a frown that threatens to tug at the corner of his mouth before his other hand slips between our bodies, rough flat pad of his thumb against my puffy clit drawing small circles that elicit more sobs from me, “m’sorry, should’ve prepped you proper.” he continues, kissing my cheek and ear, murmuring small apologies for making my cunt bleed :(((((((

[the-end--of--the-line]

Frank thot cause u asked

Frank castle dealing with a girl who covers her face during it. Whether that’s because she’s just not that experienced with someone who’s so good at it or bc she’s embarrassed of the faces she may make.

Just imagining frank sweet talking her while still being stern enough to pull the pillow away. Moving her hands and holding them.

Holding her face forward while he leans closer to her, faces practically touching as he works harder to watch the faces she’ll make and hear her noises???

Ykw, lemme calm down. I’m tooo freaked out

Hehe we’re all freaked out for Frank 😏

Frank who whispers sweet things in his girls ear, while slowly pulling away her hands to uncover her face to look at him. “Hey, hey I need you to look at me, ok. Don’t hide that pretty face”

He slows but keeps a steady pace, rolling his hips into hers, in and out. His breathing quickens and gasps softly as she lowers her hands, meeting her eyes with Frank’s.

“There we go, sweetheart. Yeah just like that, keep your eyes on me, kay?”

She nods, indicating that she understands but allows her eyes to wander. A small meek escapes her lips, and she tips her head back in pleasure.

“That feel good, yeah?” Frankie asks, grinning widely. “Hmm, let me hear those pretty sounds.”

She attempts to use her hands to cover her reddening face once more and Frank uses his huge hands to grab onto her wrists, pinning them to the small space above her head.

“What did I say, sweetheart, no more hiding. Look at me while I’m fucking you”

Frank manoeuvres her head, pinning her head in place by placing his forehead against hers. He stared deeply into her eyes, nodding his head slowly. His movements begin to slow but he snakes his free hands down towards where their bodies meet.

His thick fingers find her swollen clit and begin to draw small circles against her. She lets out a moan and chokes out a “yes, right there”. A tear rolling down her cheek from pleasure.

Frank picks up the pace, pounding into her, his rough fingers rubbing against hers sensitive bud.

“You close, doll?”

“Mhmm, yes Frankie!”

Frank stays this way, feeling her tighten around his length. He continues his brutal pace until she reaches her peak. The coil inside of her snaps and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down hard enough to draw blood. She moans, practically screams Frank’s name as she writhes under his huge frame.

“Yeah, baby, I know, I know” he says, freeing her hands and stroking her hair. He presses soft kisses to her face.

“Let it out, just like that”

She moans again, wrapping her arms around Franks neck.

He slows his brutal pace, softly stroking her hair. “Yeah, juuuust like that. My good girl”

[the-end--of--the-line]

giggling maniacally as i think of this but!!!

frank castle does NOT moan. he grunts and groans and cusses like a goddamn animal and it is so beyond hot. it's slow and long at the beginning. like how he struggles to push completely in you so he's gotta open his girl up (via rubbing your clit reeeeaaalll slow) and when your legs fall open all pliant for him, he takes the chance to thrust forward and nest the rest of him inside you. then they pick up a lil, when he speeds up his thrusts and slides one of his hands up to grip your neck softly, cutting off your air jus a bit (frankie boy was very clear that he'd never choke u hard, sorry bb) he leans down, some of his weight forcing your legs to bunch up and angle him right where you need him. next thing you know, he's started to unravel, to fall apart at the seams. he starts talking, and he doesn't stop.

"that's my fuckin' girl..take me, baby. that's right. you gonna cum, huh? you're squeezing me so-- fuck. fuckin' tight, baby. too deep, hm? no, i don't think so, mama. you're a big girl, baby. you can take it."

he mutters attagirls and that's its all the while you cum, but goes nonverbal the second he starts chasing his high, just groaning and grunting, and fucking into you like a caveman.

[the-end--of--the-line]

sex with Frank always feels like you’re on fire.

the drag of his cock in your tight walls always pulls a string of broken moans out of you. He’s so thick and he manages to hit the exact spot that makes your body seize up, a fuzzy feeling that tingles deep within you as your hips buck involuntarily,

“yeah, you’re alright girl.” He coos above you, both large hands splaying across the plushness of your stomach, both to feel your flesh and to hold you down, pulling his hips back and sharply plunge back into you.

Pulling in a sharp gasp from the depths of your chest, it’s high pitched and weak, a pathetic sound as your hands fly to his wrists, fingers circling around his wrists, the wrists that were usually covered in oil, some sort of polish, gun cleaner, blood, all the works.

Frank simply nods at the silent signal, eyebrows furrowing as his jaw clenches, pulling his hips only a few inches back before pushing in a bit softer this time, drawing out a soft mew as you throw your head back, “oh god Frank…” it comes out as a breathy moan as your hips buck towards him, pelvis rubbing against pelvis.

[the-end--of--the-line]

hey gorgeous can i request frank making the reader squirt, like the reader was convinced she never could til frank showed her otherwise.

frank castle x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, squirting a/n: yess thank you for the request <3

with the way frank has you folded up right now, you're shocked nothing has broken. either you or your bed, which knocks against the wall with each slam of his hips.

he has your thighs pinned to your abdomen, your feet tapping the headboard every couple seconds. that combined with your whiny moans and frank's grunts, you're definitely getting a noise complaint tomorrow.

under normal circumstances you would have reminded him to quiet down. but you're so fucked out right now. your eyes have gone glassy, drool leaks out from the corner of your mouth. what your neighbors can hear is the least of your concerns at the moment.

frank swipes some of that saliva away with his thumb before returning his hand to where it was wrapped around the back of your knee. you've been doing this for hours. round after round, he just couldn't seem to get enough of you tonight.

you whimper and arch yourself off the bed. he's still going so fast and hard for someone who's been going so long. you weakly grab at his biceps for some form of support, but it only takes a second for your arms to fall back onto the mattress.

"frank..." you whine, your face contorting with pleasure, "fuck, fuck, fuck."

he watches you with lidded eyes. a deep puff of air seeps from his lungs at the sight of you beneath him.

"i know, baby. i know. you're taking it so well. being so brave for me," he praises, voice rumbling with a hint of teasing.

you want to think of a response equally as mocking, but you just can't. not when he's fucking the thoughts right out of your head.

you squirm a little as your breathing turns to panting. you just wanna find a little relief from the onslaught of ecstasy his dick is beating into you.

he won't have it though. he tugs you sharply by the hips. a loud, embarrassing squelch comes from between your legs. you squeal in response. you try to writhe some more, but the closer angle keeps you pinned beneath his weight. your eyes roll back and you actually think you might pass out for a few seconds.

he reaches down with one of his hands, slotting his fingers against your clit. the thick digits swipe against the sensitive bundle of nerves in rapid strokes. more strangled moans erupt from your throat. you clutch at the sheets for some reprieve but it doesn't work.

but then you start to feel something different in the pit of your stomach. you cry out, and your eyes flutter as you try to register it. the tip of his cock is just pounding up into that sweet, spongy spot inside of you. it feels kind of like you might piss yourself if you're honest. the rapid hammering of his length combined with the rubbing of his fingers has you losing control.

panic surges through you at the thought. reaching up, you try to tap at his chest and alert him, but you can't get the words out and he's lost in his own bliss. your mewls become more choked. your muscles tense up. you try desperately to hold back, but you can feel yourself approaching it whether you like it or not.

"fuck! i'm gonna cum, i'mgonnacum, i'm gonna-" you say, words slurring together.

he just keeps up his efforts. "go 'head, sweetheart. cum again for me. let it all out," he rasps.

with one more deep push of his hips, you shriek. your vision blacks out as your head snaps back against the pillows. you spasm like you're possessed. your body jerks and twitches beneath his. it's all instinct though. your conscious mind turns off for a few minutes.

vaguely, you feel the warmth of his release flood your insides for another time. you feel his thrusts begin to slow and his noises grow less frequent. both of you are huffing breaths in.

you come to as he slips out of you. you whine, the feeling of emptiness jarring after so much stimulation. but then he lets out a low whistle and chuckles. you pop your head up, confused about the noise. he looks down at you with a lazy smile and shakes his head.

"what?" you ask.

"you made a real mess of me, baby. that's what," he teases.

your brows furrow. you still don't understand. you're about to ask him what's that supposed to mean before you notice how his abs shine, how they drip with a clear fluid you can only assume came out of you. that's when you realize what happened.

your eyes widen. heat creeps up into your cheeks.

"what's that look for?" he asks, amused by your shyness.

"nothing... i just didn't know i could do that," you say.

"oh, you've never done that before?" he asks. a cocky look fills his eyes as he leans forward to peck your lips. "only for me, huh?"

you nod while looking into his eyes.

"well it's not gonna be the only time," he teases and nuzzles his nose against yours. he gives you one more kiss before rising off the bed and tugging you by the ankle in that direction. "c'mon, messy girl. let's get you cleaned up."

even though you're physically exhausted, you couldn't be happier to roll out of bed and trot after him to the bathroom.

[the-end--of--the-line]

Thinking about Frank Castle being unable to stop running his mouth while he’s inside you… (MDNI)

His arms are bent at the elbow on either side of your head, caging you under his body as though you had anywhere else you’d rather be. Grunts escape his lips despite him, most of them against your lips as he tries to swallow your pitchy moans. He’s thrusting into you roughly, and quickly at that, knowing that’s how you like it. One of your legs is tightly wrapped around his back, heightening the experience for the both of you. There’s a pillow under your hips keeping them slightly elevated, making it easier for him to reach the deepest spots inside of you.

Unfortunately for the pillow, Frank had a long day, and his only cure for a long day happens to be making you cum as many times as he possibly can. He’s usually a man of very few words, but on nights like these the dam is irreversibly broken. He’s already brought you over the edge twice, once on just his tongue and again on merely two fingers. This is a usual occurrence, as Frank knows the game better than any other man can, but it happened quicker because he won’t. Stop. Talking.

Now especially, as he tries to add more slick to the inside of your thighs. He’s yet to cum, the incessant trembling of your pitiful legs almost enough satisfaction for him. “Cmon mama, cmon princess. Uh huh. Make a mess for me, you can do it. Let go, soak this dick. I know you want to, hell it only took you five minutes to make this mess on my face and hands. Yeah baby, that’s it—fuck— take it,” the words trickle out of him between grunts as his pace picks up. You whine and gasp beneath him, his words sending you into overdrive.

“Harder, Frank,” you gasp, the only words you can think of as he fucks you into the mattress.

“Harder? Jesus, baby. You can cum on just two fingers alone but by the time I got my dick in you, you want me to wreck you, huh? Just can’t get enough, filthy thing. Wanna get fucked like a whore, sure, I can do that. My whore. My sweet girl,” he rambles, ramming right into your favorite spot, one of his hands traveling down without you realizing it. Suddenly a loud smack fills the room as his palm comes down on your ass. It immediately brings pleasure filled tears to your eyes, the stimulation almost unbearable.

“You gonna cry for me? You poor thing. Can’t handle getting fucked like you want, can you? Maybe I should take it easy on you, huh?” he smirks, knowing that is the exact opposite of what you want, but slowing down nonetheless.

“Frank! No!” you protest, grinding into him.

“Tell me what you want, Princess. Come on,” he demands, biting the juncture of collarbone and neck, making you cry out his name.

“Fuck me like- fuck me- like a whore,” you stutter as he keeps leaving bites along your chest.

“That what you want? Yeah, alright. I can do that,” he grunts, resuming the pace from before. The tears freely fall now, not out of pain, but out of sheer, mind numbing pleasure. “Aww, shh, sweet thing. Just giving you what you want, baby. Cmon, make a mess for me,” he coaxes, kissing your tears away, bringing his hand down to rub on your very overstimulated clit. “Let me wreck you, cmon, come on this big dick.” You cry out his name, but he swallows it with his mouth, kissing you deeply.

It doesn’t take long before you come again, gasping for air and his name all at once. He rolls off of you to give you a moment, and once your breathing slows you realize—

He’s still rock hard, his cock red and angry against his abs as he lies next to you. “You thought we were done, sugar?” He asks, a slow, lazy smirk on his handsome face. You whimper, somehow getting wet again despite yourself. “Nah,” he continues. “We’re just getting started.”

A/N: Requests are open! I take the more depressed marvel characters (Bucky, Logan, Frank, Matt, etc.), anyone played by Jensen Ackles, and more. If you’re curious, just ask! :D

Also, comments are appreciated— writing is hard and I have a praise kink :3

[the-end--of--the-line]

"'Rescuing' Wanda from a place she doesn't even want to leave, a safe place" was such a batshit insane line they had Tony say with Peter Parker sitting right there, like I don't know how more people don't see how detached from logic Tony became believing he was right.

He had the audacity to lecture Steve about bringing Wanda, a 27 year old woman under house arrest because someone else's bomb went off who participated in her own rescue because she did in fact want to leave, being there when he'd just committed a war crime by kidnapping Peter, a 14 year old boy who said no, from his safe home in Queens to be a child soldier, and grooming him (which btw does not exclusively mean sexual, it also means "the action of attempting to form a relationship with a child or young person [...] or inducing them to commit an illegal act"...like illegal entry into a foreign country or vigilantism that had literally just been outlawed via the Accords).

To be absolutely clear, I think we're supposed to acknowledge this glaring flaw in Tony's logic here, the point is supposed to be that for as well intentioned as Tony is, the statement "you're wrong, you think you're right, that makes you dangerous" applies to him. And it's honestly sad how many people in the last decade missed that entirely

[the-end--of--the-line]

Frank putting you in a headlock as he fucks you from behind…

Just swiped drool from the side of my mouth. Uh anyway enjoy dear anon!

Well Loved

꒰ Frank Castle x Fem reader ꒱

✷ CW : 18+, unprotected pinv sex, degradation, rough sex

(not proofread)

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚ ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚ ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶

“That’s it doll…that’s it.”

You felt Frank’s calloused palm put the slightest bit of pressure on your spine to further arch your back. He’s only just pushed the head in and you were already losing it. Your hands grasp the sheets in frustration as you attempt to catch his eyes, the angle making it difficult for you to fully turn your head. Settling on him in your peripheral instead. “Come on baby…fuck me already.” You groan and drop your head back on the bed, shaking it from side to side into the pillow as if a child. His hands grounded your hips, preventing you from seathing his dick fully inside you.

“Made you cum twice with my fingers and mouth already. Ain’t that enough to make you wait?” You hear Frank from behind and you yelp at the feeling of him briefly swatting your ass.

“Patience sweetheart. Haven’t even got all of me in you yet and you’re already whining. Can’t a guy savour the moment?” You groan and rolled your eyes when he pulled out slightly to admire his work. Dark eyes stuck in a trance as your gaping pussy lovingly stared back. All wet and well loved.

“Shit baby.” Frank wrapped a hand around himself and ran the head of his dick up and down your soaked folds with the occasional nudge to your swollen clit. Never actually pushing in, where you need him the most. “S’all for me?”

“Yes! Frank yes please, i want you in me so bad. Please. Please.” You quickly scramble to spread your folds with two fingers, fully revealing yourself. Vulnerable and ready to be taken.

Frank cursed at the sight. His dick is halfway in now and you’re starting to feel it. The familiar heat in your stomach spreading as he inches closer and closer to kiss you at your deepest, a spot that only Frank had been able to reach with ease.

He’s fucked into your cunt so hard a few times before, you swear he’s left a permanent imprint inside you.

“Fucking get on with it!” You half shout and you were quick to regret it.

Frank paused for a moment. His body goes rigid and the grip on your hips feels tighter. Although it’s starting to hurt, you find yourself enjoying it.

“Frank?”

The last thing you hear is a sharp inhale, before he roughly buries himself to the hilt and you gasp.

“Ohhhh fuck! Too— much baby, too much!” You feel your arms tremble at the ferocity of his thrusts, struggling to keep your body steady.

Frank scoffs.

“Behave, sweetheart. Was tryna be all sweet on ya.” He moves his hand from your hip to your upper arm and pulls you upright. You lean your head on his shoulder and he wraps a strong arm around your torso and the other around your neck. “But i guess you wanna be treated like my bitch instead huh?” You whine as be Frank experimentally flexed his arm.

His thrusts causing your cunt to produce wet squelching noises and you completely lose yourself in the sensation, mind blank with a blissful smile on your pretty face.

“Yes!” You cry out and thank god he only went harder.

Frank plants a rough kiss on your tear stained cheek.

“Feel good baby?” He asks, face affectionately smushed up against your cheek. His hips bucking up into you relentlessly.

“So good baby….thank you fuck thank you.” You let out a pornographic moan at a particularly hard thrust. Tip continuously kissing your cervix.

He chuckles sweetly and tightens the grip of his arm around your neck, effectively chocking you. “Just needed some good dick to fuck that attitude outta you huh baby?” He whispers into your ear.

You could only respond with a grip on his arm, nails digging into them to ground you.

“Aw fucking cock drunk bitch. Too dumb to answer a simple question.” He mocked and continues to drill his hips forward.

“Yeah..ah— yeah best fucking dick i’ve ever—had.” You try your best to answer with the pressure on your neck.

Frank chuckles and kisses you on the cheek again. “Good girl.”

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚ ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚ ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶

Thank you for reading! Getting through requests right now, do look forward to ‘em!

[the-end--of--the-line]

Spiders being Earth's top predators, the most successful hunters on the planet, and arachnophobia being the most common phobia in Humans really makes Peter the ideal horror movie adaption if Marvel ever wanted to go there

instead he's just a guy, just a little guy

but oh if they wanted to...

Edit: remembered how easy it is for Peter to scare people?? He didn't talk for one night and scared the living shit out of so many people all across New York?? It's literally his quips and chatterbox nature that stops him being a terrifying cryptid

[the-end--of--the-line]

Steve shouting "She's a kid!" about Wanda in CACW is not only wild because Wanda was 27 at the time, Steve was also barely any older than her both mentally and physically. He was maybe 30 when he said that, and I can either leave that as a funny quirk of Steve's and yet another frustrating hole in the MCU canon, or I can make it sad and tragic because it implies that Steve's been treated as so much older than he really is for most of his life to the point he's unable to recognize and apply his own logic to himself. (Or, even sadder, he was applying it to himself too, he knows what it's like to be in her shoes and doesn't want the same happening to her.)

If Wanda is a kid, then so was he. He and Natasha were both her age during the Battle of New York. They were really so young when Avengers Assemble happened, the others were at least a decade older (the battle happened May 4th, so Thor was 1048, Bruce was 42, Tony was two weeks from 42, Clint was around 39-42 too.)

Probably also why Peter would've never been in Civil War if it weren't written the way it was because there's no way Steve would've kidnapped a 14 year old for a fight he knew was coming "ToNy KnEw tHeY wOuLdN't HuRt EaCh OtHeR" yeah he fucking did that's literally why he brought all the manpower he could get in and breached the Accords he'd literally just signed bringing Peter there.

[the-end--of--the-line]

how would frank react if his girl started fucking herself back on him during doggy?👀👀

ok damn.

It'd be a lot of "hey hey hey easy sweetheart" as he lands his hands on your ass, attempting to ease your pace so you don't hurt yourself on him. When you find your rhythm he'd start to run his broad hands all over the globes of your ass, making big circles, letting himself start to enjoy it while he kept an eye on you. Maybe you'd get a little needy and your pace would stutter or you'd force yourself back a little too hard and whimper and he'd use his hands to reset the pace again, saying "gotta go slow or you're gonna have to let me be charge again understand?" When you don't immediately acknowledge him he asks again "Understand me doll?" as he takes your hips and hugs you flush to him, pinned in place and you'd have to whimper out a whiny yes so he'd let you continue. He'd finally let himself indulge in the feeling of you a bit more, giving you an encouraging "attagirl" when you quickened your pace and finally came on his length, going limp and letting him take over again.

[the-end--of--the-line]

Good Girls Get Rewarded

Summary: Frank gets tired of you running your mouth and decides to remind you who's in charge. Smutty antics follow.

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.5k (holy shit!!!!)

masterlist // join my taglist

a/n: im not ashamed to admit that this fic is the only thing i thought about for three days straight. please enjoy. it is an absolute smut-fest!

warnings: buckle the fuck up bitches, cursing (obvi), all porn no plot, oral (male & fem receiving), fingering, pet names!!!!!, p in v sex, praise kink, size kink a little??, frank is so mean at first lmfao, lots of teasing, spanking, frank gets called sir a lot lmfao, reader is a brat, physical violence (this does not transfer to the smut!!!), i am probably forgetting so many pls let me know what i need to add!

“How’d you get this number?”

Frank’s familiar rasp was even more apparent over the phone, a tingling revelation that sent a shiver up your spine. He was in a sour mood, and you were itching for a fight. It was the perfect way to end your evening.

“Oh, c’mon, Frankie. You know I can get whatever I want whenever I want.”

“How could I forget you’re such a spoiled princess, huh? The fuck you want, princess?”

He spat the last word at you as if it were an insult. Good. He was angry, too.

“Did I catch you at a bad time? I was just admiring these pretty curtains. They designer?”

Annoyed resolve rang through in Frank’s tone as he replied. “You know I don’t know what you’re talking about. You gonna make me ask?”

“Sure, honey. I think you’ll want to know the answer.”

You smirked, eyes roaming the living room you were currently standing in the middle of. If only Frank could see you now.

He huffed. “What curtains?”

“These blue ones in your living room. Did you pick them out, or was it that Karen Page with her over-eagerness to please you?”

“You leave her the fuck out of this.” He paused, and you smirked at yourself in the mirror as the realization of what you’d said was processed fully by Frank. “You’re in my fuckin’ house? What the hell is wrong with you?”

He was already moving. Even if you hadn’t been able to hear the hitches in his breath as he barreled his way across Hell’s Kitchen, you’d know he was coming. Your plan was working. You were ecstatic.

“Cat got your tongue, princess?”

“Clever.” You hummed, running your tongue over your teeth. Since you’d first met Frank, he’d managed to throw a cat pun in your direction during every interaction you’d had. He claimed it was because the newspapers were calling you the Black Cat, but you thought it probably had something to do with the latex suit you wore. He never could keep his eyes off the curve of your hips. “Lazy, but clever, I suppose. I’ll allow it, considering the spontaneity of this phone call.”

“How kind of you.” Frank spat, and you resisted the urge to giggle over the phone. He had to be getting close, now. He’d come bursting through the door at any second. Your muscles were giddy with the thought of finally being challenged.

“You know I love chatting with you, darling, but I’ve got to run. I have a thing. Ta-ta!”

You hung up the phone, placing it on the counter and angling yourself so that you could see the front door. You weren’t exactly sure how angry he’d be that you broke into his house, but you wanted to at least seem like you had the upper hand when he charged through the door. You waited, anticipation building until you could no longer stay still. You began to pace, nervous and giddy at the same time, and of course, if you’d just been a little more patient and quiet, you probably would’ve heard the creak of the window opening behind you.

You didn’t realize Frank Castle was standing directly behind you until you backed into him. Your heart thundered in your chest, realizing exactly who was behind you and how he’d managed to perfectly out-do you in your own plan. The hands around your throat shouldn’t have been a surprise.

“It’s fuckin’ rude to break into people’s houses, princess.”

He pulled your body fully against his, attempting to wrap his arm around your neck from behind to pull you into a chokehold. You were a tricky little kitten, though, and you slipped out of his grasp almost as easily as you’d waltzed through his door earlier. Maybe he let you out. Maybe he was curious about your unprompted visit, too.

“You’re one to talk. Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s not nice to grab a lady like that?”

He snorted. “Lady? Someone confuse you with someone less bitchy?”

“I’ll have you know, I am perfectly fucking civil to most people.” You assured him, jutting your chin out in defiance.

“We really doing this?” He ran his hand over the stubble on his jaw. You eyed the movement and shrugged.

“Eat your fuckin’ heart out, honey.”

You both lunged for each other, your leg rising to connect with his stomach before his fist could connect with your face. He sprang back, unharmed but winded, and caught your leg before it could connect with his chest. You were suddenly on your back, having been thrown off balance by Frank, who was pushing most of his weight down on your hips to keep you from thrashing beneath him.

“You’re rusty, kid.” His eyes were bright and fiery, a combination you’d grown accustomed to during these bouts. You brought your forehead to his chin in a headbutt that would’ve knocked anyone else out completely. Frank, unfortunately, was just dazed for a moment, blinking the confusion out of his eyes before you could make much leeway against his ridiculously strong hold on your hips.

You were, however, able to wiggle one of your legs out from underneath him, giving you the perfect opportunity to pull Frank into an armbar.

“You’re old.” You smirked. Old or not, the best thing about fighting Frank was how incredibly resilient he was. No matter who ended up on top at the end of the night, your pent-up energy was always spent.

He resisted the pull into your hold, though the only other direction for him to go was on top of you. Your breath rushed out of you as he landed directly on top of your lungs, your grip on his arm loosening enough for him to roll away from you.

“Real cute, princess. You break into my house, and now you’re trying to what? Hurt me?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes as you coughed and remained on his kitchen floor. He really had landed hard, but you were playing the long game. ��Good fucking luck. I’m not an idiot, in case you were wondering. You can stop the act.”

“You sure about that?” You rolled to your feet, pulling your hands into fists and holding them up to block your face. He rolled his eyes again, and even though he looked relaxed - unready, even - he caught your fist before it could connect with his jaw.

“You learn that on TV, princess?”

Your brow furrowed in anger. He was annoyingly good at reading your body language now.

“Actually,” you smiled up at him, face so close to his chest that you could nearly feel his thundering heartbeat, “I learned it from your mom.” You punctuated your insult with a swift knee to Frank’s groin. “I win.”

He hunched forward and you let him fall to his knees on the linoleum flooring. It was a low blow, but you weren’t in the mood to fight fair. He never did, anyway. You pushed yourself onto the counter, watching him breathe through the worst of the pain. You were an asshole, sure, but you weren’t the type to kick a man when he was down.

“You’re a fucking menace.” He grunted, nostrils flaring with anger when he took in your relaxed posture on the counter.

“Oh, please, Frank. It’s not like you fuckin’ use the thing.” You rolled your eyes, flipping your hand through the air in the universal sign for “whatever”.

His gaze shifted from anger to something you couldn’t quite place. You’d seen the look on his face before, but you’d never been able to figure out exactly what he was thinking during those moments. He tilted his head and rose to his feet, keeping his eyes trained on your face. Predator stalking prey. Goosebumps broke out on your skin.

“What was that, princess?” He stalked closer to you, and you were suddenly very aware how cornered you were in this position. To make a hasty escape you’d somehow have to catapult yourself over Frank’s shoulder or burst through what you guessed was a solid block of drywall beside you.

You swallowed thickly. “I said, it’s not like you use the thing.”

Frank’s eyes were bright with delight. Coupled with the teasing smile on his face and the slight tilt of his head, you were a little frightened.

“And you’d know that, how?” He taunted, stepping closer to you. He was in your space now, close enough to touch.

“I know a lot of things, Frankie.” You desperately grasped at the semblance of control you had left. “I know where you live, I know what you order every morning from that diner around the corner, and I know for sure that you. Don’t. Fuck.”

“Oh yeah?” Frank was leaning on the counter now, hands pressed into the granite on either side of your hips. “You think I can’t handle myself in bed, princess? Wanna try it out for yourself?”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with me.”

You didn’t know why you’d said it, or where it came from. Frank Castle was not the man to play games with, especially not these types of games. In actuality, you had no idea who the man was fucking or how often it was happening. You hadn’t expected him to rise to the challenge when you’d teased him about it.

“Is that right, princess?” His eyes gleamed with desire, and you finally realized what the look on his face meant. “Wanna bet?”

He pressed himself fully against you, the hardness of him apparent through his jeans. Your breath hitched against the column of your throat, and you swallowed thickly. You couldn’t deny the steady pounding between your legs, and you slightly widened your legs to allow him more room.

“Yes or no, princess? Wanna learn a thing or two?” His lips ghosted over yours, tongue darting out to lightly lick your top lip in a teasing, playful motion.

Your expectations for the night had been drastically different than this. You’d planned on a physical fight, maybe a black eye or two, and a slew of insults that you’d giggle about until you saw him again. You had not been expecting…this. Whatever this is. They probably existed, but you couldn’t think of a single reason why this might be a bad idea, so you leaned into the feeling that had been steadily growing in your core, and slammed your lips against his.

He groaned, immediately plunging his tongue into your mouth in a desperate, aching kiss. Your teeth clashed against his, but neither of you seemed to notice.

“Fuck, princess.” He mumbled against your lips, angling your chin so that he could pepper kisses down your jaw and onto your throat. You panted, pawing at his shoulders as he nipped the sensitive skin below your ear. “You gonna be good for me?”

“I’m not good for anyone.” You tried and failed to sound feisty. Instead, it came out in a mixture of a whine and a moan.

“You can be good for me, kitten. I won’t tell anyone.” His hands ghosted over the bottom of your shirt, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. He didn’t lift it up yet, and he probably wouldn’t, you realized, until you offered him some kind of consent.

“Only if you ask nicely.” You teased, brushing your lips over his jaw.

He snorted. “That ain’t happenin’.”

A feline grin made its way across your face. “I know.”

He gripped your jaw tightly, forcing you to look up at him as he leaned in close and whispered, “You’re going to be good for me, you fucking brat. Don’t make me say it again.”

Warm delight flooded your stomach, and even though it went against what you believed in, you nodded. You couldn’t think of a single thing you would rather be doing.

“Good girls get rewarded, kitten.” He adjusted his grip on your jaw, sliding his fingers further down your neck. He toyed with the hem of your shirt again, tugging it slightly so that you arched into his chest. “Can I take this off, sweet girl, hmm?” He hummed, running his tongue across your bottom lip.

You nodded again, and the hand around your neck flexed with displeasure.

“I kiss you for thirty seconds and your big mouth suddenly knows how to shut up?” He pinched your hip, eliciting a yelp from your unassuming mouth.

“Fuck yo-”

“Careful.” He warned, arching an eyebrow at you. “Use your words, kitten. I know you know how to be sweet. Be sweet to me.” His lips ghosted over yours, breath fanning across your flushed cheeks. “Can. I. Take. This. Off?” He punctuated each word with a slight squeeze of his hand, still wrapped around your throat.

“Yes.” You breathed, dipping your chin in a single nod.

“Yes…?” He cooed, close enough for you to see the amusement glittering in his eyes. The fucker was enjoying this entirely too much. Still, your core hadn’t stopped pounding since he’d cornered you, and you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t incredibly turned on by this, by him. You gave in to his question, as much as it hurt your stubborn heart to do so.

“Yes, sir.” You clenched your teeth around the word ‘sir’.

“See? That wasn’t so hard was it?”

“Or should I call you master? Or daddy? Or maybe punisher? You gonna punish me, dadd-”

His hand clamped over your mouth, cutting you off before you could continue.

“Shut the fuck up. You just can’t help yourself, can you? You’re such a fucking brat.” He pulled your hips flush against his, and you bit your lip to stifle the moan making its way up your throat. He leaned in, centimeters away from your lips as he whispered, “You want to be punished, kitten, hmm? I can do that.”

You were suddenly pulled off the counter and roughly thrown over Frank’s shoulder. The swiftness in his movements made you yelp, anger coursing through your blood at his man-handling.

“Fuck you, Frank.” You gritted your teeth.

His only response was a swift slap to your backside, which was nestled directly over his shoulder.

“You can’t just throw me around like a doll!” You protested, though you did nothing to try and wiggle your way out of his grasp. The man-handling was making you a little hot and bothered, but you wouldn’t be admitting that anytime soon.

“Oh yeah? Watch me.” He grunted as he threw you down on his bed, grasping your legs and pulling you down the mattress until he was towering over you again. He brushed your hair out of your face, a gentle gesture that juxtaposed the usual ferocity of your meetings. His thumb ghosted over your bottom lip, and before you could think twice about it, you opened your mouth and began sucking on it. A grunt, a smirk, the subtle desire lurking behind his intense gaze - all of it was incredibly sensual. “Should’ve known the sweetness wouldn’t last. You’re a brat, through and through, kitten.” You replaced the sweet caress of your tongue around his finger with your teeth, softly biting down on the tip of his thumb in response.

“I like it though.” He mumbled quietly, more to himself than to you. His gaze coasted down your body, catching on the swell of your breasts and the curve of your hips. He looked back at you, having come to a silent decision. “I’m gonna give you another chance, kitten. Does that sound okay, baby, hmm? I want to make you feel good, alright? All you have to do is be good. That’s it. Can you do that for me? Can you be good for me?”

You blinked up at him, his frame so wide above you that it was almost sinful.

“I can be good for you.” You responded slowly, relinquishing your hold on his thumb. He quirked an eyebrow at you, and you quickly added, “I can be good for you, sir.”

His cheeks widened into a smirk.

“You’re already doing so well, sweetheart.” He praised, running his hands along your sides until they met the bottom of your shirt. You arched into him as he pulled the fabric over your head, relishing the gentleness of his touch while simultaneously missing the roughness from before.

He slid the tip of his tongue from your navel to the valley between your breasts, tugging on the thin material of your bra with his teeth. His breath fanned across your chest, bringing a renewed sense of urgency to your aching core.

“Frank.” You whined, pawing at his shoulders and attempting to pull him fully against you. He barely budged, instead choosing to narrow his focus onto your pebbled nipples.

“What is it, kitten, hmm?” He pressed a soft kiss to your nipple. It was through your bra, but it might as well have been to your bare breast, because the rippling heat that washed through your body elicited a breathy moan from your throat.

“I need- I mean, I want- Can you-” The warmth from his mouth around your nipple was scrambling your brain, and you couldn’t begin to function as his fingers began sliding your pants down your legs.

“You need somethin’, sweetheart?” He was teasing you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to stay silent about it.

“Quit teasing me.” You whined, and his hands halted midway down your thighs.

“You think you have any control over this right now?” He chuckled, yanking your pants down your legs in one swift motion. “I haven’t forgotten how bratty you were earlier. You keep this up and you’ll be lucky if I let you come at all, sweetheart, and it’d do you good to remember that.”

Desire sparked deep in your core at his tone, and a devilish smile made its way to your face. He eyed you warily.

“Don’t do whatever you’re thinking about doing.” He warned, returning his attention to your breasts. “Behave. Can you do that for me?”

“Can you?”

The words were out before you could stop yourself. It was just so easy to talk back to him. He brought his teeth down around your nipple, biting hard enough to bruise.

“Brat.” He grunted, pushing himself off the bed completely. You whined at the loss of contact, but it quickly turned into a moan when Frank’s rough hands flipped you onto your stomach and slapped your ass hard enough to leave a mark.

“You’ll learn to be good.” One hand held your squirming form beneath him while the other came down in another harsh slap. “I’ll fuckin’ teach you if I have to.”

You moaned, louder and louder with every slap. Sure, you were a menace to the streets of Hell’s Kitchen and, likely, Frank Castle, but you never knew being bad could feel this good. Frank hoisted you up against him, roughly pressing your back into his chest.

“You’ll submit.” He whispered, nipping at the exposed skin on your neck. “I’ll make you. I dare you to try and stop me.”

He shoved you off of him, pulling his shirt over his head as you flopped down on the mattress. You tried to crawl further up the bed, but his hand clamped around your ankle and tugged you onto your stomach again. The position gave him a perfect view of your clothed cunt, which was thoroughly soaked in its current state.

“This underwear is pretty, baby.” He mumbled, running his fingers over the damp cotton. You squirmed beneath his touch, moaning as his fingers brushed against the part of you that needed him the most. “You wear these just for me?”

“Yes, sir.” You breathed, arching your back even more to give him a better view.

“Turn over, baby.” He instructed, gently prodding at your hips. You flipped over, splaying yourself out beneath his standing form, panting. “You’re good when you want something, aren’t you?”

“Who says I want something?”

Jesus. Christ. You really couldn’t help yourself. You sighed in disbelief at your own attitude. At this rate, he’d never let you come.

“Watch it.” He brought his hand down, slapping your clothed cunt in warning. You felt yourself clench around nothing, dying to be touched by him again. “You look delicious like this, kitten. I’m dying for a taste.”

His eyes flicked up to yours in question. Even after everything, he still wanted your consent before he crossed the next line. You nodded, and then winced as his eyebrows shot into his hairline and he brought his hand down in a harsh slap, connecting with your pussy again. “Words.”

“Yes. Yes, please, sir. Please taste me.” You corrected yourself, widening your legs.

“All you had to do was ask, sweetheart.” He sank to his knees, grinning. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, which surely would’ve gotten you another punishment, and tried to relax against the mattress.

“Look how pretty you are when you’re behaving.” He hummed, breath fanning over the soaked fabric. You whined as your pussy fluttered at his praise. He pressed a soft kiss to your mound, still refusing to remove the fabric simply because he knew it was driving you crazy. “You like it when I compliment you, kitten? Look at how wet you are, and I haven’t even touched you.”

“Yes, sir.” You breathed, swallowing hard. You were so turned on it was starting to hurt, but you knew if you complained he would stretch the process out even further. Instead, you leaned into the praise and hoped he’d give in soon. “I’m being good, right, sir?” You asked, legs trembling with anticipation. He kissed your mound again, eliciting a groan from deep within you.

“Yes, kitten.” He smiled against your pussy. “And good girls get rewarded. Right, baby? Hmm?”

You moaned loudly as he hummed against your wet core. “Yes! Yes, please.” You nearly screamed out.

And finally, finally, he pulled your panties down your legs, discarding them in his back pocket. He briefly sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, taking in the sight before him. You were glistening with wetness - so turned on from his words alone that you could quench his thirst for a year with the amount of arousal leaking from your cunt. He grunted, slowly remembering the game he was supposed to be playing with you.

And you tensed, noticing all of this. You may not know a lot about a lot of things, but you knew Frank Castle, and you knew how to read him. You knew exactly what he’d been thinking. For a second, you had forgotten that this was all one giant game to him. He didn’t miss the way your demeanor changed. His eyes slid to yours in question.

“What is it, honey?” He asked, voice still dripping with lust but also with genuine concern.

“I just-” You struggled to find the words, and then tried to sweep the entire interaction under the rug. You wanted his tongue on you, now.  “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Lying ain’t something good girls do.” He arched an eyebrow at you. You whined, pressing your head into the mattress.

“Is this a one time thing for you?” You asked, refusing to meet his eyes as you did so. It would be pretty embarrassing to be sent home in your current state - needy and wet - but not the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you. You would not torture yourself by watching his eyes go from lusty to their usual cold demeanor.

“What do you mean?” He asked, running his thumbs over your hip bones.

“I mean,” you huffed, sitting up on your elbows and forcing yourself to look at him, “Will you call me after this?”

Frank’s face morphed into an understanding smirk. “Are you asking me to?”

You glared at him. He pinched your sides again. You rolled your eyes. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll call.” He said, and then his tongue was swiping through your folds, and you couldn’t do anything but flop back onto the mattress again and groan.

He lapped up the arousal that had been leaking out of you since he’d arrived earlier before focusing his efforts on your clit. His tongue drew figure-eights around your clit, sending shocking waves of pleasure through your body, and when he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, you were sure you’d died and gone to heaven.

“Fuck, princess, you’re so pretty.” Frank mumbled against your clit, sending a new spark of pleasure through you. “It pisses me off how pretty you are.”

“Please don’t stop.” You begged, legs shaking as you wrapped them around his head. His hand, which had been trailing closer and closer to your entrance, finally found its home, buried deep in your pussy. He pumped two fingers in and out of you, all the while sucking on your clit and going back and forth between praising and degrading you. You weren’t sure which direction was up.

“You just show up looking like a fucking goddess,” he punctuated the word with a harsh suck to your clit, “and expect me not to fuck you, princess? You’re begging to be fucked in those tight pants.”

He pumped his fingers faster and harder, sucking at your clit with more ferocity than you thought he was capable of. You were sobbing now, so close to the edge that you couldn’t stop the tears flowing down your temples and onto the comforter beneath you.

“You’re such a fucking brat sometimes, fuck.” He grunted. “But you’re so god damn pretty when you misbehave. You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

“Frankie.” You sobbed, moaning as he sucked on your clit again.

“You wanna come, baby, hmm?” He cooed. “Only good girls get to come, kitten. You think you’ve earned it?”

“Yes! Yes, sir!” You practically screamed it, your entire body shaking with anticipation of your release. “Please let me come, sir.”

“Well, when you ask so nicely, honey.” He shrugged before attacking your clit with his tongue again.

You erupted beneath him, coming so hard your vision blacked out. You could vaguely feel Frank holding your hips in place, but your body was mostly one spark of pleasure after another. Your heart thundered in your chest, mimicking the pounding in your core. Frank squeezed your thighs hard enough to bruise, lapping up every drop of your release, but you were so far gone you barely registered it.

You eventually returned to your body - sweaty, panting, and thoroughly taken care of. Frank was smirking, pressing soft kisses into your skin.

“See what happens when you’re not a brat?” He teased, kissing the valley between your breasts. “Good girls get rewarded, and you’ve been so good for me, kitten.”

“What’s my reward?” You gasped, still a bit hazy from your orgasm.

“What do you want it to be?” He nipped at your jaw, trading between soft kisses and little bites that were sure to leave marks.

“I want to-”

His phone began ringing in his pocket, a sharp and alarming ring that startled both of you out of your hazes. He reached into his pocket and cringed when he saw who it was.

“Who is it?” You asked, curious.

He flipped the phone around for you to see, and you immediately tensed up. Motherfucking Karen Page was calling Frank, and he looked like he wanted to answer it. Your haze was gone now - long gone - and you suddenly felt like crying.

“Answer it.” You taunted, though you thought you might really start to cry if he did.

“I don’t think I’m going to.” He responded, watching you carefully.

“No, really,” you said, attempting to sit up, “She might need saving, again.”

It was a low blow, and you both knew it. It wasn’t Karen’s fault that she wasn’t skilled in hand-t0-hand combat. There was a pattern, though, and no matter how many times she got herself into trouble, Frank and/or Matt were always there to save her.

“Watch your mouth.” He blocked your attempt to sit up, shifting his weight so that he was fully hovering over you. He silenced his phone and slid it into his pocket. “You’re being a brat again.”

Hot, shameful tears welled in your eyes.

“I’m not trying to be one. This is my personality.”

“Crying after the most mind blowing orgasm you’ve ever had?”

“No.” You mumbled, though you couldn’t stop the sneaking smile from forming on your face.

“You’re pretty when you smile.” He said, peppering kisses along your jaw.

“Careful, Frank.” You murmured. “It almost sounds like you care.”

He nipped at your neck, an already sensitive area, and you groaned against him.

“I do.” He said genuinely, pulling back to make eye contact with you. “But don’t you worry your pretty little head about that right now, princess. You’re about to be so cockdrunk that you won’t be able to see straight for a week.” Your pussy clenched as he grinded against you, the denim of his jeans rubbing against your sensitive clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your stomach for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“What about my reward?” You hummed, wiping stray tears away. “I still get that, right?”

“How could I forget?” He mumbled, nipping at the marked skin around your breasts. “Princess wants her reward. What do you want, sweetheart?”

“I want to suck your cock.” You said, straight-faced and innocent, blinking up at him with such softness that he looked on the verge of tears. “Sorry.” You mumbled, correcting yourself before he could, “I want to suck your cock, sir.”

“You’re a fucking angel.” He grunted, pushing himself off the bed and into a standing position again. You followed, reaching for his jeans. He grabbed your hands, briefly stopping them from tearing his jeans off.

“Are you sure you want this, princess? A reward is supposed to be about you.”

You sort of liked the way he called you princess now. Before, when it had been fist fights and anger, it sounded like an insult. But now, the gentle cadence he said it with made your heart clench in your chest.

“I want to.” You nodded, and smiled up at him. “Can I, please?”

He undid his belt with one hand, bringing the other up to cradle your jaw. His hand was massive on your face and neck, a reminder of how insanely large the man standing in front of you was.

“When you look at me like that,” he started, biting his lower lip and slightly shaking his head, almost like he couldn’t believe what he was saying, “I forget how fucking bratty you are. I just want to corrupt the innocent little smile of yours.”

“I come pre-corrupted.” You grinned, the feline smile returning to your face as you looked up at him. “But you’re more than welcome to try.”

You tugged at his boxers, revealing his achingly hard cock. Sucking in a breath, you tried to imagine all of it fitting inside you as he stepped out of the boxers. Your mouth watered when he stroked himself a few times, smearing the precum across the tip of his dick.

“You realize I can’t let another man touch you after this, right?” He asked, eyeing the way your tongue slid across your bottom lip. He shrugged. “You’ll never want another man, anyways.”

“You sound so sure of that.” You murmured, not fully comprehending the words coming out of your mouth. You flicked your eyes up, briefly meeting his gaze before returning to the matter at hand.

“That sort of sounds like that attitude that keeps getting you in trouble, princess.” He raised his eyebrows at you. You quickly rewound the conversation, blinking out of your cock-drunk haze.

“No. No, sir.” You shook your head, desperate to get your mouth on him. “Can I? Please?”

“That’s what I thought, baby.” He murmured, tucking your hair behind your ears. His hands traveled around your head, pulling your hair into a ponytail at the base of your neck. You slid off the end of the bed, sinking to your knees in front of him. “Go ahead, sweet girl.”

You wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and kissed the tip. He let out a slow breath as you grew bolder with your mouth. His salty pre-cum smeared across your lips, and you couldn’t stop yourself from dragging your tongue through it. He groaned, tightening his hold on your hair.

“I want you to fuck my throat, sir.” You murmured, looking up at him.

“You keep looking at me like that, I ain’t fuckin’ anything. Those fuckin’ eyes of yours are gonna be the death of me.”

“Didn’t realize you were so quick to-”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” He warned, arching an eyebrow at you. You grinned, stifling a giggle before wrapping your lips around him again. You pushed your head further and further down his cock, hollowing your cheeks and sucking as you went. When your nose brushed against his pubic bone, he let out a stunted moan, slightly thrusting into your throat.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you bobbed your head up and down with more fervor, begging him to fuck your mouth harder and faster.

“You look, fuck-” He couldn’t stop himself from groaning, which spurred your movements on even more. “You look fucking amazing like this, princess.”

You hummed with acknowledgment, hoping it was enough for him to keep thrusting into your throat. Tears freely streamed down your cheeks, surely smudging the eye makeup you’d put on before you left your apartment earlier that night, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Frank Castle was sliding his dick down your throat, and you were so turned on you could probably come just thinking about it.

Frank suddenly pulled out of your mouth, a trail of spit connecting your lips to him as he panted. “‘m gonna come if you keep doing that.” He explained when he noticed your furrowed eyebrows.

“Want it.” You breathed, reaching for him again. He instead pulled you to your feet in front of him, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Another time, princess. The first time you make me come, I want it to be in your sweet little pussy.” He winked. “But don’t think I haven’t noticed how good you’re being.”

He pulled you into a kiss, sweeping his tongue into your mouth. You groaned at both the praise and the intensity in which he kissed you. Both set your insides on fire. He led you backwards until your legs hit the bed, and you couldn't help but nip at his bottom lip when he tried to pull his head back.

“Good girls don’t do that.” He smirked, pushing you lightly so that you’d flop onto the bed again. He ran a hand over your cheek, smudging your makeup even more before running two fingers along your bottom lip. You caught on, slowly wrapping your lips around his fingers and lightly sucking. “You’re not good, though, are you, princess?”

You shook your head. His eyes had darkened again, sending a familiar pounding to your core. Your legs trembled as he began to inch his fingers in and out of your mouth.

“You can be.” His voice had lowered considerably, barely above a raspy whisper. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you? Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me, princess. I won’t tell anyone.”

You whimpered, sliding your tongue around his fingers. Your skin was on fire, and the longer he stood there staring at you with those lusty eyes, the wetter you became.

“Can I fuck you now, princess?” He asked, transfixed on the fingers he was sliding in and out of your mouth. “You gonna be a good girl and let me ruin you?”

He pulled his fingers from between your lips, gripping your jaw tightly. He watched you, waiting for a response. You almost nodded, making the same mistake you’d made countless times already, but caught yourself at the last second.

“Yes.” You said, swallowing. “Yes, sir.”

“Lay back, princess. I’ll take good care of you.”

You laid back and widened your legs for him, noticing the twinkle in his eyes as you complied with his demand. If you were in your right mind, you might’ve said something witty or bratty to him about it, but he was towering over you, cock hard and ready to fuck you into oblivion, and you wanted him so badly. You groaned when he began running his fingers through your slick folds, already trembling.

“This all for me?” He asked, circling your clit once, twice.

You nodded, forgetting yourself for a moment, and yelped when his hand smacked your bare pussy. It didn’t hurt. In fact, you felt your pussy spasm in response, but you’d been so lost in how great his touch felt that you hadn’t realized you’d broken a rule.

“This all for me?” He asked again, rubbing your clit roughly with the heel of his hand.

“Yes! Yes, sir!” You whimpered, legs trembling when you felt the heavy weight of his cock resting on your pussy. He used it to slap the slickness a few times, eliciting a whine from deep in your chest. If he didn’t fuck you soon, you might actually die.

“Who does this belong to, baby? Whose sweet pussy is this?” He asked, smacking your pussy with his cock again.

You froze, knowing the answer he was looking for, but wondering if you wanted to lower yourself to that level. It was vulnerable to give yourself over to Frank this way, but it also wasn’t as terrifying as you thought it would be.

“Say it.” He encouraged, sliding his cock through your slick folds. “Submit, princess. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Is that a promise?” You taunted, trying not to groan at the friction against your clit.

“Quit being a fucking brat.” He grunted, lining himself up with your entrance. “Say it.”

“Yours. It’s yours, sir.” You whispered, and he buried himself deep inside you.

All the gentleness you’d experienced leading up to that moment was gone, and you couldn’t do anything but cling to Frank’s shoulders as he obliterated you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, sweetheart.” He hovered over you, kissing, sucking, and nipping at every inch of skin he could reach. He was marking you everywhere - you didn’t miss the implications of that - and barreling into you over and over again.

“Say it again, baby.” He whimpered in your ear, the closest you’d ever come to hearing Frank beg. “Who does this sweet pussy belong to?”

“You, sir. It’s all yours.” You replied instantly, whining as he angled himself and pistoned deeper into you. You could barely think straight, only aware of where your skin ended and Frank’s began. “Fuck, Frank. Sir. I’m fu-” You panted, whimpering, “I’m close. ‘m gonna-”

“You look so pretty like this, sweetheart.” He murmured, ghosting his lips over your jaw as he pressed kisses to and nipped at your throat. “Cock drunk and needy. You’re so fucking pretty.”

“Sir, can I-” You shuttered when you felt his hand on your clit again, teasing it with rough, slow circles. “Oh, fuck.”

“You’ve got such a dirty mouth, baby.” He grinned, skimming his teeth along your jawline. “You drive me fucking crazy.” He punctuated the word ‘crazy’ with a deep thrust, pressing against the spongy spot deep inside you that would send you reeling. You whined, squeezing your eyes shut as you trembled around him. Tears cascaded down your cheeks, a sight he never wanted to stop seeing.

“You wanna come, princess?” He cooed, biting the sensitive skin on your throat and kissing the sting away.

“Please.” You gasped. It was the only thing you were capable of saying. You barely registered that you’d forgotten to call him sir, but he was so transfixed with the sounds you were making that he didn’t mention it.

“Princess gets what princess wants.” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around you and holding you steady as he pistoned into you at an indescribable pace. You fell apart beneath him for the second time that night, arching and panting and whining as you fluttered around him. He attacked your throat, jaw, and lips with kisses, licking and nipping at your skin.

“That’s it, baby.” He talked you through the overwhelming pleasure, holding you tightly against his chest as he continued to thrust into you. “You were such a good girl, honey. You did so good.”

You whined, fluttering around him at the praise. “I want another reward.”

In any other circumstance, your demand would’ve pissed Frank off, but you just looked so pretty underneath him. “Oh, is that so?” He asked, eyebrows raising. Amusement rang in his tone, and it emboldened you to keep speaking.

“Yeah.” You gulped, still shaking from your orgasm. “I already know what I want.”

“You’re sounding more and more like the brat I just fucked silly.” He said, gently thrusting into you. “Spit it out, baby. What do you want?”

You swallowed, smiling a little. “I want you to fill me up, sir.”

He paused, pressing his forehead to your shoulder and huffing a laugh. His warm breath sent goosebumps skittering across your skin. “You’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart.” He mumbled, kissing you sweetly.

“I was good, wasn’t I?” You feigned innocence, knowing it would send him closer to his relief. “And good girls get rewarded?”

“Yeah, baby.” He nodded, picking up the pace of his thrusts again. “Good girls get rewarded, and you were the best girl, baby.” He leaned into your hold, lips ghosting over the crest of your ear as he whispered, “I’m gonna fill you up, baby, and you’re going to walk around dripping into your pretty little panties all day tomorrow.”

You eagerly nodded, agreeing with him, and whimpered when he began thrusting into you at a relentless pace. You arched into him, nipping at his throat hard enough to leave a mark. “You’re perfect, baby.” He breathed. “Even when you’re being a brat. Wouldn’t have you any other way.”

His thrusts grew sloppier, his breaths coming in short, stunted grunts as he finally let himself go. His heart thundered in his chest, and you clung to him, kissing across the broad expanse of his body until he nearly fell on top of you in trembles.

You cradled his head against your chest, breathing in unison with him. At some point, his arms had wound around you, which meant you were now wrapped in each other’s arms, limbs tangled together as both of you came down from your highs.

“Holy shit.” Frank said, chuckling. “That is not what I was expecting when you called.”

“You gonna kick me out now?” You asked, half-joking. He tensed against you, lifting his eyes to meet yours.

“Don’t be a brat.” He nipped at your skin. “I’m not kicking you out, unless you want to leave.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, sighing deeply. “Of course I want you to stay. I’m a fuckin’ gentleman, kitten.”

You scoffed, though you could feel yourself hiding a smile. “Whoever told you that clearly hasn’t heard you in the bedroom.”

He scoffed in mock-offense. “Are you saying you didn’t have a perfectly nice time just now?”

“I did.” You grinned. “I’m…sorry I said you weren’t good in the sack.”

He looked up, stunned. “Did the Black Cat just apologize? To me?”

You rolled your eyes, huffing. “Yeah, but no one would believe you if you told them.”

“I’m not sure that’s enough, princess.”

You scoffed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I think you need to admit to me that I’m incredible in bed and that you were wrong.” He was grinning so wide you had to resist the urge to punch him in his stupid, handsome mouth.

“I’m not doing that.” You shook your head, stifling a laugh.

“Do it.” He murmured, nodding.

“I refuse.”

“Please?”

“Absolutely not.”

You were both grinning at each other now.

“You’re such a brat.” He said.

“That’s what got us into this mess.” You countered.

“Just say it, princess. For me?” He pleaded. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“Fine.” You gave in, rolling your eyes. “Frank Castle, you’re a sex God!”

He chuckled, pulling you tightly into his chest.

“Good girl.” He praised, kissing you softly.

“Do I get a reward?” You arched an eyebrow at him, smirking.

He smirked back, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Oh yeah, princess. Good girls get rewarded, remember?”

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[the-end--of--the-line]

let you be the boss of me

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

tags: consensual “hidden” camera, reader is lowkey a bit of a perv and a tease!!! good for her, established relationship, voyeurism, exhibitionism, phone sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, multiple orgasms, hints of free use pleasure dom frank…. hehe, cowgirl position, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: happy ddba double release day and rest in peace to frankie’s sexy-hot beard… </3 been itching to write some frank for a long time now, so here’s whatever this is lol. i’m really excited to post this actually and would love to hear your thoughts if you give it a read!

w/c: 5.1k

he takes his painkillers dry. two straight down the hatch with barely a grimace, and he’s contemplating on taking a third when something flashes out of the corner of his eye. frank castle isn’t startled by much of anything anymore, but he does do a double take at the giant eyeball taking up the entire screen of his main desktop. it blinks owlishly and he chuckles, rattling the bottle of pills in a rough hand before dropping it back to the table and stalking his way over to the setup of monitors to his left. 

“the hell you doin’, knucklehead?” 

there’s no one around to hear him. 

the grit in his voice is softened by an egregious amount of fondness, and there’s a slight tilt to his head when he sits, spreading his legs wide and bracing his forearms on his thighs. another blink, followed by a flutter of wispy eyelashes. you back away from the camera and your full face comes into frame like an eclipse. 

the camera is a bit overkill even for him, but he’s apparently one hell of a pillowy, indulgent son of a bitch when it comes to you and that ridiculous pout of yours. you felt safer with him watching, you had told him. you always want him looking out for you even when he’s not around. so yeah, sue him. he installed the camera in your bedroom while you hung onto his shoulders and lightheartedly argued over the perfect placement for it.

his not-so-hidden camera sits right on top of your dresser, partially hidden by some fancy jewelry rack. it’s inconspicuous enough to go undetected unless you’re looking for it or know it’s there. and you remember its presence far too frequently for frank’s already dwindled sanity. 

you’re sitting on the edge of your bed now, legs crossed at the knee as you recline back onto your palms. 

“frankie,” you coo. you tilt your head and smile, something slow and pretty. frank kissed that same smile right off of your lips not even two nights ago, fucked it off of them and replaced it with whimpers of his name, cries of pleasure that only he knows how to pull out of you. “are you there?” 

frank taps his foot. 

he could play ball, but maybe he wants to make you work for it a little bit. you’d have called him by now if it was something serious, and besides, he can tell by the look on your face that you’re itching to play with him anyway. you’re the one with a camera blinking at you, but he’s the one who feels watched. a fish trapped in a bowl — there’s a finger tapping at the glass and rippling the water, but he still gulps at the surface for scraps of food. 

he scrubs a hand through his beard when you turn yourself over on the bed and lay on your stomach. you’re a fucking tease is what you are, camera pointed right that pretty little ass of yours that’s clad in those panties you know he likes. black. lace. all that moving you’re doing has caused the fabric to catch between your cheeks, baring the globes of your ass to the camera. 

frank’s eyes are nearly glazed over by the time his burner phone lights up from the corner of the table. 

he taps his foot again, reaches over as it lights up with another notification. 

pay attention to me

see something you like? 

he scoffs, shakes his head lightly just as you turn your head to peer at the camera. frank watches you bring your phone to your ear, and his burner lights up with a call the very next second. 

so much for making you work for it — frank picks up halfway through the second ring. 

“ma’am?” he grunts. 

“i’m horny!” 

frank tugs the speaker away from his ear at your volume, eye squinting. he watches the words leave your lips from the video feed in front of him. it almost tugs a laugh out of him, your pitiful, forlorn face. spoiled damn rotten. 

“hey, doll. missed your voice too, baby. yeah, i’m doin’ alright, you know me. just peachy. how was your day?” 

you glower at him through the camera lens and he does chuckle then. 

“i’m serious!” you whine, but there’s a laugh bubbling out of your mouth too. you scrub your hand over your face, rub at your eyes like exhaustion is nipping at your heels. you get all sweet for him when you’re tired. “‘ve been thinking about you all day.” 

“that right?” 

you hum, turning back over and lying flat on your back before scooting up the bed to rest on your pillow. the shirt you’re wearing has rucked up on your belly, baring the tender skin of your side. pretty fingers reach absentmindedly for the elastic hem of your panties, and frank nearly crushes his phone in his grip. his fingers twitch, itching for something other than his pill bottles, the triggers on his guns. 

you don’t say anything else, but a pretty little grin tugs at the corner of your lips. your gaze locks on the camera, locks with his, and you curl your finger to beckon him. come here, come be with me, come love me. 

your legs spread slowly then, and frank takes a deep breath through his nose that only serves to widen your sleepy grin. it isn’t until your fingers are brushing the gusset of your panties that frank speaks again, voice gritty like sandpaper.

“you wantin’ me to come take care’a that, sweetheart?” 

a moan filters through his phone, something airy and light, sweet like sugar. he watches two of your fingers work slowly between your legs, dragging over sticky-wet fabric and making your thighs twitch. he always starts off touching you like that — slow at first, just enough for you to feel the pressure of his fingers and get you whining for them, hips bucking into his calloused hands in search of more. 

“yes baby,” you croon. that fucking face. those fucking eyes. he’s nothing if not a puppet on a string. “come take care of me.” 

it’s not like he needs much convincing. his jaw ticks when he grits his teeth, watching your toes curl into your bedsheets. a growl simmers low in his throat, and frank stands so abruptly that the chair he was previously seated in teeters and falls backwards to the floor. his heavy gaze lingers on the monitor; he drinks the sight of you in like you’re the only thing that could quench his never ending thirst, his very own flower in the desert. the only thing powerful enough to pull him away from his little slice of heaven is the sound of your breathing in his ear, those pleading whimpers that claw their way up from your throat to call for him. 

“i’ll be right there.” a hoodie, he needs a hoodie. keys… the keys to his van are on the table, but frank has absolutely no concern for following the laws of the road right now. damn it all — he’ll walk instead. your place is close enough, and he’ll be able to listen to you a little while longer. “i’m on my way, sweetheart, you hear me? you just keep touchin’. you keep on touchin’ that perfect pussy and wait for me, yeah?” 

long, echoing hallways and a bumpy elevator ride give way to a drizzling night outside. frank bullies the hood over his hair and keeps his head down, phone held tight to his ear as he walks with a purpose. 

a slurred moan has him muttering curses under his breath, nearly slamming into someone walking the pavement in his haste to reach you. 

“f- mm, yeah, frankie.” you sound like a fucking dream, voice so sweet and airy in his ear he swears he can feel the heat from it. a chill runs down his spine. 

“yeah, what’s got you whimperin’, baby? you gotta tell me about it.” 

he’s damning himself and he knows it. you say one word about your fingers anywhere near your cunt and he’ll be drooling by the time he unlocks your door, a dog to a bone. that doesn’t stop him from wanting to hear about it though — nothing can, not when you sound so beautiful in his ear, not when you’re touching yourself because you’ve been thinking about him. 

“it’s- ah, frank. i’m- ‘m so fucking wet,” you mumble. your voice is muffled, almost like you’re covering your mouth with your hand. you’re not embarrassed, no. he’s wrapped around your finger and you know it; there’s no need to be embarrassed when he’s the one walking blocks to get to you all because he couldn’t trust himself on the road. you’re not embarrassed, you’re just shy. coy. you’re still playing with him. “feels so messy, it’s- oh my g-god, my clit’s so sensitive.” 

“gonna get my mouth on it when i see you, how ‘bout that?” he can tell the moment your fingers pick up speed because your breathing stutters. frank licks his lips. “easy, easy. keep it slow, doll. atta girl, that’s right. that’s my fuckin’ girl. that’s what you want, yeah? i know that’s what you want, you want—” he quiets down as he walks through a straggling crowd loitering outside of some bar. if he shoulder checks an asshole who won’t get out of his way, that’s his business and his alone. “you want my mouth on that beautiful pussy ‘n i’m gonna give it to you. how ‘bout my fingers, huh? you want those too? my-”

“your cock!” you cry. the frantic edge to your voice makes frank’s pulse throb. all the fucking blood in his body is pooling in his dick. “all of- all of it, frank, please but- but, i want your cock. i’m so tired of just thinking about it, i want your cock inside me so bad, please.” 

frank’s hold tightens on the phone. just one more turn, just one more corner, a locked door, and then he’s yours. 

“ain’t gotta beg me for that, girl, you hear me?” 

you don’t have to beg him for a damn thing, not when he’s ready and willing to give it to you. 

the first sight of your door feels like crossing the finish line after a hard fought race, the trophy now just within his reach. he tries the knob first and finds it locked — good girl, that’s my smart fuckin’ girl. i’m right outside, comin’ to you, baby — and fishes the keys from his pants pocket with desperate hands. he’s so distracted by the sound of your labored breathing that it takes him more than one frustrating try to unlock your door. 

it smells like home inside, sounds like it too, the creak of that one floorboard by the front door, the whir of your ceiling fan on high. frank takes a moment to lock your door back the way it was before he calls out to you. 

“‘m here, doll. it’s me,” he says. it’s quiet, he doesn’t need to raise his voice for you to hear. his boots thud on the hardwood floor, phone still pressed to his ear in the hopes that he’ll hear even the tiniest of sounds from your sweet lips. 

his steps slow when he reaches the hallway that leads to your bedroom. your breath hitches and he hears it through the burner, and he purses his lips to stop the grin from spreading across them. there’s another creaky floorboard right outside your bedroom door — frank steps there purposefully and hears you nearly squeal in his ear. it’s cute, one of the cutest sounds he’s ever heard you make. he wants to hear it again and again. 

your door swings open and he pushes his way through, and there you are, laid out like a fucking feast and he’s a beggar. you drop the phone onto your pillow when you catch his eyes. 

frank tilts his chin up. “what was’at noise you just made, huh?” no amount of posturing could stop the grin from slipping across his face now, not when you’re in front of him like this. you smile too, something giddy and with a tenderness that he hardly deserves. he locks his phone and puts it in his pocket. 

“i’m- i’m excited,” you whisper, and god, if frank’s beating heart isn’t being ground to a pulp in his chest. 

the need to touch your bare skin overruns almost all of his senses. frank shrugs the hoodie over his head and is met with the sight of your legs widening as soon as the garment hits the floor. he disrobes in front of you completely, keeping his eyes locked on yours all the while. you bite your lip; your fingers slip back underneath your sticky panties. 

your bed dips when he presses his knee onto it, and he’s crawling between your legs with a growl. 

frank kisses the bump of your hand in your panties. your scent is so strong, you’re so soaked for him that he can smell it. another kiss there, a second under your belly button before he’s rucking up your shirt and following its ascent with his lips until it’s pulled over your head. his beard is softer than his scruff was, but it still has you squirming under his ticklish attention. your empty hand finds his hair and combs through it. 

“my pretty girl’s excited?” frank asks, his raspy voice muffled by your skin and fervent kisses. 

“yes, please, i am. will you fuck me now? please?” 

just a few minutes prior frank told you that you didn’t have to beg for him, but he sure does love the way that word sounds coming from your lips. his cock throbs where it drags against your comforter — it aches for you, kicks angrily at the mere thought of burying itself inside where you’re soft and gummy and warm, but he has something else to do first. 

“made you a promise though, didn’t i?” frank licks between the valley of your breasts, pushes them together with calloused hands so those pretty mounds hug his bearded face. you nod, and he hums his approval. “that's right, promised my girl somethin’ good. you remember, sweetheart, yeah? tell me. you tell me so i can give it to you.” 

you arch against his face and hug him to your breasts. frank feels rabid, pressing searing kisses to the heaving, sticky skin of your chest while you babble your way through a series of slurred whimpers. he can feel your hips working against his abdomen, the bump of your knuckles where your hand has come back to rest in your underwear. 

“you said- oh, fuck, said you’d get your mouth on me. my pussy-! and your fingers, and- and your cock after, frankie, i really want it!”

“there she is. atta girl,” frank grits. he eases back down your stomach, sucks wet kisses into the soft skin until he reaches your parted thighs. the only thing keeping him from that tangy goodness between your legs is the soaked pair of panties you’re still wearing. the graze of his beard against the tender skin of your inner thigh makes you coo out something soft, and you curl into yourself at the feeling, only held at bay by the grip frank takes hold of on your thighs. “fuckin’ purrin’ for it.” 

it doesn’t take long until frank is purring with you, not when your fingers slip from your panties and right into his mouth. his chest rumbles with it, brown eyes locked on yours in a heady gaze. now that he’s gotten his first taste, he won’t let up until his face is dripping with all you have to give him. the pads of your fingers are so soft against his tongue, pruny with how long you’ve been at it, and frank eases them from his mouth when he’s done lapping the taste from them, kissing the tips of your fingers and the palm of your hand when you cup his face. your thumb brushes the scabbing scar that’s sliced into the apple of his cheek. 

he doesn’t deserve it. he hasn’t in a long time and probably never has in the first place. you touch him with a reverence that no one who has committed such sins deserves, but he basks in it like it’s the only thing that keeps him alive. his throat will tighten up if he really thinks about it, the backs of his eyes will start stinging, so he pushes it aside for the time being. he has a promise to keep. 

the first touch of frank’s lips to the soaked center of your panties has him grunting something low. your voice takes the opposite route, high-pitched and whisper-quiet. it wakes something carnal in him and he digs in, opening his jaw and laving his tongue across the soaked lace. they’re tiny little things, your panties are, elastic digging deliciously into your lips and giving him just enough leeway to suck one into his mouth to tease you. he wants you bare though, wants to taste you without anything in the way. 

“want these off now, sweetheart?” like he’s not the one chomping at the bit for a better taste. “you gonna let me get these off’a you?” 

you raise your hips with a sweet yeah, frankie, and he tugs the lace down your hips, your legs, your ankles. the spread of your legs gives way to the most beautiful sight. you’re swollen with your need for him, honey-dipped and mouthwateringly pretty, with that sweet little clit peeking right up at him. he’s aching to kiss it, so he does, close-lipped and slow. you’re so sensitive to it that your legs snap shut around his ears. another groan from deep in his throat and he’s prying them apart, keeping you spread with rough hands as he finally opens his mouth and nestles your clit inside with a languid suck. frank bats his tongue against it gently, buries his face into you deeper and purses his lips to suck in those rhythmic little bursts he knows you love. 

“oh my g-god,” you keen. your fucking teeth are chattering. shaky hands card through his hair, tugging tightly at the top to keep him close to you. “that feels so fucking good, please don’t stop, oh, frank, baby- please don’t stop doing that!” 

it’s even better when your hips buck up to meet his mouth. he likes that, loves when you greedily take your pleasure from him just as generously as he gives it. you toss your head back onto the pillow when frank’s nose bumps your clit, a choked cry leaving your lips as you bring a hand from his hair to cup the hinge of his bearded jaw just to feel it working. frank follows when you lift your hips, guides your clit back into his mouth and laps at it sloppily before he starts that same rhythm up again. he mentioned something else earlier that you enthusiastically wanted, and your mouth drops open wide when a thick finger prods at the entrance of your needy hole at the same time his tongue works your clit. 

“yes,” you grit through your teeth. a deep, shaky breath comes next, shaking the soft mounds of your breasts. “yesyesyes, yeah. more, i can- i can take more of you.” 

he listens, helpless to. frank wets a second finger with a mix of your juices and his spit and slips it right inside with the other. even two of his fingers are a stretch, but you take him perfectly, smoothed over by how long you’ve been touching yourself and how lax he’s gotten you with his mouth. he curls his digits, searching for something he always finds so easily but makes sure to keep that unwavering attention on your swollen clit like you begged for. it draws a shout from your lips; your thighs quiver by his head. 

“that your spot, sweetheart?” frank grins into you, flicks his tongue against you so good that your toes curl where they’re propped on his broad back. “you fuckin’ like it right there, huh?” 

a frantic nod of your head. you’re almost going cross eyed trying to watch him pleasure you.  

“iloveit! i love it, fu-uuck, mmph! love it, love you, i love you, frank, so much. i’m- i’m right there, i’m so fucking close, please don’t stop!” 

he’s steady with you. the wet suction of his mouth paired with the rhythmic massaging of his fingers inside of your cunt pulls your orgasm right out of you. your back arches, you go completely silent until your body wracks with shivers, that’s when a broken cry finally leaves your lips. frank drinks it up just like he vowed to, moving with you when you curl in on yourself, dragging a hand up your back to keep you steady. you shiver again when he slips his fingers back out, when his pink lips press one last kiss to your pulsing clit. the fleeting tickle of his mustache has one of your legs kicking out on reflex. 

frank kisses back up your body and all the way to your lips. he kisses the whimper from them, drinks it in and swallows it down to make it his own. the kiss is hot, wet, a mesh of teeth and tongue and heavy panting that makes for one hell of a hello kiss. 

you part with a quiet smack. frank tips his forehead down to press it against yours. he can tell by the way you’re kneading at his shoulders that you want something, and all you have to do is say it. 

“can i-?”

you don’t finish, trailing off with a bite to your lip that’s barely hiding your sated but ever growing smile. 

“ain’t gettin’ shy on me now, doll, are you?” frank noses down your cheek, kisses your neck. “gotta tell me what you want so i can let you have it.” 

he waits for a response but doesn’t get one, only leaning up onto his palms when you nudge at his shoulder. your smile widens — a slightly harder nudge, and frank finds himself on his back and blinking up at the ceiling fan. his eyes land on you the moment his head hits the pillow, his rough hands reach to cup your elbows when you swing your leg over his lap. he sits up then, adjusts himself against the headboard. 

“yeah,” frank grunts. he doesn’t know where to look… your beautiful face, your heaving tits, the easy slide of your sopping cunt against his hard cock. he hisses when you lift up on your knees, and frank takes the hint to guide himself to the warm give of your hole. “yeah. that what you want? i know that’s what you fuckin’ want, been achin’ for it all day now. you take it then, hear that? you take what you need and you take it from me.” 

it’s a long way down, but you take his dick like a fucking champ. always have. frank’s gentle grip on your elbows migrates to your hips to keep you steady. he looks at you with droopy eyes and watches you sink down on him until he’s snug inside and you’re filled to the brim. 

“oh, fuck, it’s—” you shudder. your nipples are tightening prettily, pebbling up in your sensitivity, so he leans forward to suck one into his mouth while you adjust to his size. frank mouths branding kisses across your chest and gives the same attention to the other one. “—deep, ‘s deep, frankie.” 

you lean back to prop a hand above his knee and leave the other on his chest. the first roll of your hips has you throwing your head back, and frank isn’t faring any better. he growls again, a snarl tugging at the corner of his lips as you grind your hips down on him. 

“goddamn deep, yeah it is. you like it like that, huh? you want me deep...” frank smooths his hands down your hips and to your thighs. they rest there, thumbs caressing the skin gently while you find your rhythm. you’re an angel above him; it doesn’t get any better than this. your fingers dig into his leg when your hips pick up speed — the wet clap of your sweaty skin pairs nicely with the rhythmic knock of your headboard that’s already started to hit the wall. “that’s right. that’s right, sweetheart. you just- use it however you goddamn want. take all the time you fuckin’ need and enjoy yourself.” 

you nod, and frank’s fingers cup the nape of your neck. 

“i- yes, i am, i will frank, it’s— ah-! good, frankie, you feel so good, your cock feels so good.” 

frank grits his teeth at that. he’s willing to bet you feel better to him than he does to you, your sweet body so damn soft and warm that he has to fight with himself to keep his own hips still so you can take things at your pace. he’ll get his own when you’re ready for it, but for now, he’ll sit still until you tell him otherwise. 

the circling of your hips quickly gives way to something more carnal. your movements turn frantic, and you lean forward to wrap your arms around his neck so you can cling to him while you rut down onto his cock. frank wraps his own around you just as tight, trails his hands up and down your spine to show you that he’s there, he’s right there with you and he’s not going anywhere. 

“good girl. that’s my good fuckin’ girl, takin’ what you need from me like that. you enjoyin’ it? enjoyin’ yourself, sweetheart?” 

you breathe your answer into his lips, response bouncy and slurred with your desperate movements. 

“yes, yes i- oh my god, i love it. you’re so good to me. i love using your cock, i- mm! a-ah, frankie, please, will you fuck me now?” 

you’re tired, he can tell by the way your chest heaves and the whine that leaves your lips on every exhale. you’ve worked hard, now it’s his turn to give you what you want. frank slips down the bed with a raspy hang on tight, bending his knees and propping his feet on the mattress so that he can buck up into you. you cling to him with desperate hands; your fingers curl onto the skin of frank’s broad shoulders to hold yourself steady as his cock batters your sensitive, swollen cunt. frank curses through his teeth — your pussy clenches so tight when he fucks inside that he sees stars behind his eyelids. 

you’re pressing sloppy kisses to his neck, lapping his dripping sweat up with a silky tongue. frank ducks his chin to look at you, and you raise yourself from his neck to keep eye contact with him just before you lean in for another kiss. 

“you’re goddamn perfect, you know that?” he breathes against your lips. his beard tickles your chin when he speaks, but you press yourself closer to it instead of pulling away. his words make you shy — frank speaks with such a raw and intense honesty sometimes that you don’t know what to do with it  — you lean your cheek against his, clutching him tighter with your hands. “eyes on me, sweetheart, yeah? i want those beautiful eyes on me. atta girl, just like that. fuckin’ perfect, you hear me?” 

he can tell you want to respond, but you can’t, his dick feels too good that you’ve gone speechless for it. with your forehead pressed to his, he can see every expression on your precious face. the quiver of your chin, the crease between your brows, your jaw dropped open in a cry that’s stuck in your throat. he fucks it out of you until you’re keening into his mouth, and frank swallows it again, trapping your pleasure-stricken noises between an insistent tongue and surprisingly soft lips. 

your eyes roll. your cunt flutters around him. you want to cum so fucking bad and he knows it. he’s not far behind, abs clenching with effort and the growing need to fill you up until you’re leaking. 

“you want it so bad. just take it, take what you want,” frank grunts. “give it to me. you wanna let me have it? come on- come on… sweetest goddamn girl. there- oh, fuck, there you go, don’t you hold back from me.” 

frank can feel you cumming, clenching on his aching cock like a vice and pulsing through your orgasm. he holds you tight; his arms wrapped around you so tightly that they’re the only thing that keeps you from shattering apart like broken glass. you curl into yourself again as best you can on top of him, and frank presses a kiss to your hair, your sweaty forehead. the world stops turning when your fingers skim his cheeks, a touch so loving that he’s helpless to follow any command you give him. he doesn’t hear you say it, not when his ears are ringing, but he feels them mouthed into his balmy skin — please cum inside of me — so what else can he do? 

frank juts his jaw when he finally cums, breathes heavily through his crooked nose and presses his face to your neck with a choked groan. your hips roll languidly together until you’re both done, but frank keeps his face nestled into the warm crook of your neck even as he continues to soften inside of you and the aftershocks dissipate. 

he slips out of you with a nasty noise, but you don’t burrow yourself into his side like he’s expecting. no, when frank pulls his face from your neck and cracks open a droopy eye, your back is arched, you’re presenting yourself for—

the camera on top of your dresser. 

of course you are. frank hums something rumbly and watches as you reach behind yourself with one hand to spread your cheeks. his cum must be oozing from your hole by now, dripping slowly down to your clit and soon to be his thigh too. your head is angled towards the camera, and frank cups your nape again, cards his fingers through your hair. you’re biting that plump bottom lip of yours; all that’s doing is making him want to kiss you again. almost like you read his mind, you do just that, turning your head back towards him and leaning in to kiss his lips. 

you pull away sooner than frank likes, turning your head once more to blow a kiss at the camera. 

he chuckles. you kiss his chest, finally allowing yourself to throw a thigh over his and nestle yourself in the crook of his arm before he inevitably gets up to clean you off. 

“what was’at for?” frank presses his own kiss to the top of your head. 

“for you,” you say. “for tomorrow, when you watch that back — because i know you will!” 

[the-end--of--the-line]

saw someone say that like. thor fans should be grateful t0ny exists, otherwise thor wouldn't have his sense of humour. how do i tell that person that the last two thor movies suck, and i hate his humour and the way he's written. i liked when mcu characters were written differently to each other, and didn't have the same senses of humour.

[the-end--of--the-line]

LAST MINUTE ♡

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: when frank won't give you attention, you have to convince him not to leave somehow...

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, boot humping, praise/degradation

wc: 3.3k

a/n: i love him i love him i love him sooooo badddddd. if you send me asks about this man i'll make out with you sloppy. anyways, comments and reblogs appreciated too <3

kinktober slot: day 25 - boot humping

Frank's eyes cast over to the corner of the room where you're sitting in front of the mirror. He can hear you humming to yourself, your voice rising and falling to the soft tune of a song you'd been obsessed with for the last few weeks. Your fingers smear some lotion across your cheeks. The pads of them massage the cream into your malleable flesh.

Your gaze catches his watching you through the reflective pane. He sees a smile spread across your lips before you turn around and spring to your feet. Your body is only covered by a t-shirt of his along with the pair of panties lying beneath. You prance across the bedroom and glide around to hover behind him.

The scent of your lotion and shampoo from the shower you'd just taken cloud the air surrounding him. It's light and airy, like the vision of you that floats through his head nowadays. He wasn't sure when you'd taken up permanent residence there, though he couldn't really complain. Thoughts of you are better than echoing gunshots or screams.

He hums in acknowledgement of your proximity, giving your forearm a pat with his rough hand. It's smooth beneath his fingertips. So untouched it feels wrong to drag his calloused skin across it.

You don't seem to mind though. Not with the way you duck your head and kiss his cheek.

"It seems like something's bothering you," you murmur, the wisps of your breath brushing over his face.

His attention returns to the weapons in front of him. He focuses on cleaning the parts and putting them back together. Your words were kind of stupid. There's always something bothering Frank. Moments where he has a clear head are few and far in between; reserved for when he's asleep in your arms or balls deep in your cunt.

He doesn't say anything rude though. He knows you're trying to be sweet. The statement is your subtle attempt at offering up your ear. You always told him he could vent. He could cry over the past or seethe about his plans for the night, either way you'd be right there. But that would only be if he ever actually took you up on that offer.

Instead, all you get in response is a grunt before a muttered "'m fine, baby."

You frown. He can see it out of the corner of his eye. Your lips turn into that pitiful little pout that drives him up the wall. Good thing his eyes are locked on a different target right now.

"Are you sure? Feel like you got something on your mind," you try again. Your hands slide up to his shoulders, fingers beginning to tenderly massage his tense deltoids.

"Told you I'm fine," he says again. The words are firm and closed off, but they don't strike you as unkind.

"Wellll… if there was anything wrong, would there be anything I could do to make it better?" you whisper.

Your lips press against his cheek bone again before migrating downward. Your soft, plump lips coasts over his jawline and onto his throat. You feel his smile make a brief appearance on his face, but his hands don't stop rotating the cleaning rag over the grip of his gun. He hasn't abandoned his task for you. Yet.

"There's nothing wrong. Don't start makin' a fuss over it," he grumbles.

"C'monnn, Frankie," you say softly, "Just tell me one thing. Even if you feel fine, just tell me one thing that you'd like."

A few more gentle pecks land on his neck. Your fingers continue to swirl and massage into the tender muscles in his shoulders.

"I'd like it if you got some rest tonight and didn't stay up worrying about me or watching the news," he responds.

You roll your eyes. Of course, you were gonna do that regardless. You always worried about him when he was 'working.' He'd spend the hours out taking care of what - or who - ever, and you'd occupy that time in your apartment doing just as he said, pouring over news reports and bouncing your leg until you were so tired your eyes couldn't stay open if they wanted to.

"Be seriousss," you whine, growing more petulant with him.

He glances over at you upon hearing that tone. That rise in pitch never did you any favors with Frank. He didn't fall for the puppy eyes or quivering lip.

"I am serious. I don't want you worrying or stressing. I'll be back tonight, and I want to come back to you sleeping in bed. Not watching for me at the fire escape," he says.

"Ok well pick something I can actually give you now," you concede.

Space. That's what he wants to tell you. Not in an annoyed way. He loves your touch, adores feeling your body heat oozing off of you. But it's hard to get in the mind frame of a killer when your breasts are pushing against his back and your nose is gliding over his throat.

He doesn't say that though because he knows no matter what tone of voice he says it in, you'll only take it in the 'I'm sick of you' way.

"What makes you think I need anything?" he asks. He puts the handgun he'd been working on down on the table and picks up a larger assault weapon instead.

"Oh my god, you're so difficult," you huff, "I'm just trying to be nice to you. I don't like seeing you all grumpy and stressed."

You may not have liked it, but grumpy and stressed was the version of Frank you saw the most. It was the one you fell in love with. The one that spends the night here in your apartment most days of the week. The one who's hoodies you wear. The one who holds you while you sleep and grunts against your skin when he has a bad dream.

"I'm not. I'm just thinking. You're making something out of nothing, sweetheart," he chides.

"You know… I think you just don't want to admit that you need a night off," you say, nodding in agreement with yourself.

"No."

"Just wait. Don't shoot it down before I explain," you try to reason.

"No," he says again.

"Yes! You'd feel so much better if you had one single night to relax," you argue.

He looks at you with a bit of disbelief. "I can't just call in sick. There is no 'night off,'" he says. His tone is strict, no room for negotiation or bargains, but that doesn't stop you from trying.

"I know, but you don't have to go out. You could text your 'people' and they could do whatever for the night," you say. His people is the term you call whoever he works with. You know there's at least one other guy, he's just never told you any names or details. "Just one night to let me take care of you. It would be good for you. And plus, I miss you," you pout.

He eyes you for a moment, dark pupils scanning over each small curve of your face. The pause gives you hope that he's considering it. That maybe he'll choose to stay with you instead of the shipping yards or rooftops.

"Don't give me that 'I miss you' act. You know I miss you too, but I can't just stay with you and sit on my ass all night cause you think it's the magic cure to me being a hardass," he says.

You narrow your eyes as the look on your face likens more to sulking.

"It's not magic… just if you rest, you'd be less uptight," you say. You loop your arms around his neck again and smoosh your cheek against his, letting the prickly spikes of his stubble scratch you.

With a little sigh, your attention shifts to what he's working on. He's still cleaning the metallic item on the desk in front of him. You watch his hands work, moving in methodical swipes. Efficacy learned from years of experience. Still, it's so boring to you that you can't even come up with a question to feign interest. Not that he'd answer anyways. He didn't like involving you in his other job.

You puff air through your lips to signify your apathy. "Frank…" you whimper, right by his ear, soft and quiet.

Usually, you avoid asking him to stay home. You never complain about the awkward hours or inconsistent time you get with him. You don't accuse him of being uncaring or allege that he's using you. But maybe it's the fact that he so blatantly denied you tonight that has your mind acting up.

"Quit while you're ahead, baby. I don't wanna argue before I leave," he says.

"I'm not trying to argue. Why can't you just consider it?" you ask.

"You know why. Now, enough," he says, bringing the discussion to an end.

Your head slumps over onto his shoulder, your ear flush against the cotton of his shirt. Of course, you know why. You know why this stuff is important to him. And it makes you feel guilty for even suggesting a brief reprieve from it.

Sagging down, you slide around to the front of his chair and drop to your knees at his feet. You rest your head on his thigh, displeasure displayed across your lips.

"You're so mean to me," you mutter.

He glances down at you, smirking a little at your exaggerated defeat. "You think so?" he prompts.

"Mhm," you hum, nuzzling against the denim covering his leg.

You scoot a little closer to his leg, pressing your torso flush against the limb. Closing the distance brings his foot to rest right between your legs. You feel it, but you don't care to notice it yet. Instead your fingers massage his calve absentmindedly.

The bedroom is quiet for a few moments spare the sounds of fabric rustling and both of your soft breaths. He just watches you for a few moments before you feel his hand pet the curve of your head.

"So unfair," he says.

You suppress the smile wanting to show on your features. The look of joy at receiving his attention. His thumb swipes back and forth over your skull. The warm weight of his palm coasting over you does soothe ypu even if you still wanna act coy.

"Yeah, especially cause I just wanna spend time with you," you sigh.

"You'll get to. Tomorrow," he responds. You can hear the clipped amusement in his voice.

Just as quick as it came, his hand leaves your head. It's back to the table. He moves onto a knife now, cleaning some grimy stain that you don't even want to know the origin of.

Shifting your head upward, you rest your chin on his knee and glare at him. "But-"

"I'm not gonna tell you again the answer is no."

The words die in your throat, leveling down to a whine. "See? Mean," you say.

You turn your head back to his side, squishing your cheek against his knee. The hard bone divots the soft flesh of your cheek like a crater on the moon.

You're content to just sit in this position and rest there until he stands up to go. To cling to his leg like the words "please please please" are about to spill from your lips. But in your deflated state, you sink down a bit more. You relax the muscles in your thighs and inadvertently bring the seat of your panties in direct contact with the scuffed top of his boot.

It doesn't shoot bliss through you like a bolt of lightening, but it sparks a fuse in the pit of your belly. The solid curve of it slotted right up against your clothed heat.

As an experimental touch, you grind your hips down. You make sure to be subtle, not wanting him to see what you're doing before you can determine if it's worth the humiliation. The muted sensation of pleasure that fills your belly answers that question quickly though.

Once you get the first taste, you rock your hips back and forth in little bursts. It wouldn't be noticeable to a quick glance, but a more intentional look would catch the way your ass pushes forward and back.

What gets him to notice is the feeling of you gripping his leg tighter. You press the hard front of his shin between your breasts and down your stomach harder. That gets him to look in your direction. When he does, he finds the sight of you getting yourself off with his boot.

"What're you doing?" he asks, giving you the chance to explain first.

"Nothing," you answer almost instantly.

"Doesn't look like nothing. Doesn't feel like nothing," he says as he tilts the point of his shoe upward. The boost grants some more friction to your clit, drawing a sharp whine out of you.

"Might have to get you a collar if you keep acting like a puppy, baby," he teases.

"I'm not," you whimper. You press your face harder against his knee as if it could act as a shield against the embarrassment.

"Really? Whining and humping my leg like you're in heat doesn't count?" he mocks.

"Shut up," you choke out.

"Attitude," he tuts. He shakes his head before his eyes flit back to the weapon on the table, letting you do your thing.

And you take advantage of that. Your hips move back and forth like a pendulum. You can feel the thin cloth of your underwear getting sticky as arousal leaks from you at the soft stimulation blooming between your legs. Your poor, swollen clit presses on the firm material as you let out a raucous whine. He tsks at you from above.

"It's getting late. You might wanna keep your volume down," he says.

The words come out so dismissive, so passively entertained. As if you're merely background noise. You can't help whining again. Your grip tightens on him, and your hips move in broader circles. If he's just going to let you do this, you're going to take advantage.

More sparks of white hot pleasure fizzle between your thighs. Your cunt ruts over the expanse of Frank's boot in quick strokes. The fabric of your panties only serves to provide some extra friction. Your eyes flutter and your cheek feels numb from the pressure of his kneecap again.

It feels as if you're in your own little world while doing this. Even if you're attached to him, it still seems like you're in a haze of your own at the moment. Just a lusty daze focused on making yourself feel good.

Vaguely, you can hear the clicks of his equipment above. The rustling of pouches and cloths. The clunking of organization. It all means nothing to you. The only thing you're concerned with is how your folds spread across the shape of his shoe.

You mewl softly. A trickle of saliva leaks from your mouth onto the rough fabric of his pants. All your thoughts have melted away. Your limbs stay locked around his leg, ensuring you have secure leverage to rock yourself back and forth.

He still doesn't acknowledge you. His eyes stay on the table. Honestly, you would believe he didn't even know you were there if not for him lowering his foot and then raising it again. The motion gives you a burst of stimulation, an interruption to the rhythm you'd set for yourself.

A desperate whine crackles out of your throat. You spread your thighs further to get down on him and press your aching pussy against him harder.

"Frank…" you whimper before biting your lip for a moment.

This time he doesn't disregard the call for him. He reaches down, sweeping his hand over your head and cupping your jaw. He directs you to look up at him and gets clear view of your empty eyes.

"What is it, baby?" he asks. His thumb brushes back and forth across your lower lip. The simple touch is enough to send you into orbit.

"I…" you try to start. But words are hard to conjure when thoughts have become nothing more than memory. "I love you," you end up choking out.

He chuckles. "Yeah, you do," he agrees.

You whine and lower your head again. Your body doesn't stop swinging your hips. His hand migrates back to the top of your head.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he says. His voice rumbles out low and quiet, so gravelly you can almost feel the vibrations in your bones.

He continues to gaze down at you. His eyes drink in the sight of you getting yourself off on his leg. Your hips constantly drag over the seamless surface of his shoes. Cute little noises pour from your mouth in a never-ending flow. Your eyes scrunch up and your nose crinkles when rushes of euphoria course through you.

"You gonna cum on my boot, doll? Gonna make a mess?" he rasps.

You nod eagerly. "Mhm. Mhm. Mhm," you whimper. In direct contrast to his, your voice floats into the air light and soft.

"Do it. Maybe I'll have you lick it up afterwards. I know you'd do it. Shit, you'd probably fucking like it," he says.

That's all you need to rush the spark on your fuse to the end and send you into an explosion of pleasure. Your back arches and you cling to his leg like it's a lifeline. Your grip gets so tight that had you been more lucid, you probably would have worried about cutting off his circulation.

Your pussy clenches around nothing, your walls fluttering with the urge to feel him spilling inside you in unison. Regardless, you keep rabbiting your hips and working yourself over the peak. Your noises come out more whiny and full of need, aching to hear his grunts in your ear.

As blissed out as you are, your droopy eyes still catch sight of the solid bulge in his pants. You hold out hope that maybe you'll get to have some of what you long for before he goes.

The intensity of your high begins to simmer down to a satisfying warmth as you reach the end. Your hips move slower and slower until they come to a stop. You catch your breath, panting and leaning against his leg totally lax.

He doesn't say anything. He just finishes up what he was doing and lets you come down on your own.

After a few minutes though, he does scoop you up off the ground and into his lap.

"That feel good?" he asks.

Your head bobs up and down.

"Looked like it," he grumbles.

"Not as good as it would've felt with you though," you murmur.

He stares at your content, post-release face. It's not a surprise you want more. Had you not hinted at wanting him to fuck you properly after that, he would have been actually concerned for your well-being.

"Guess you'll have to wait till I get back to find out," he says lowly with a kiss to your temple.

"But Frank…" you say, lazily sliding your hand down. The center of your palm lands on his swelling bulge, giving it enough pressure to drag a hiss from his lips.

He pauses, lets you stroke him a few times. It feels good. He knows he should just push you off. Should send you off to bed now that you're all nice and relaxed. But he can't resist that light caress.

Sighing he lifts you and steps over to the edge of the bed. Dropping you back on the mattress, he starts to remove his belt.

"You got fifteen minutes, ya little brat. After that, I'm still leaving," he tells you before dropping forward and hovering over your body, bringing your lips into a brisk kiss.