jaggedamethyst - Tumblr blog

jaggedamethyst · 4 days ago

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oh!!!!!!!!

until our breaths combine

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

tags: groping, playful bf frankie, nipple sucking, shower sex, improper use of a showerhead tee hee, handjob, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, blowjob, cum swallowing

a/n: **ddba spoilers** in a perfect world, this is what frank castle would be doing during a so totally super normal citywide power outage. not… you know… chained up (hot) in a cage (still hot) by the avtf. i hope you enjoy :) reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

w/c: 5.5k

the power’s been out for what feels like days now, but the lockscreen on your phone tells you it’s only been about an hour. one hour is one hell of a long time when all you have to keep you company is the flicker of candlelight shadowed along the walls of your house; one hour of no power is one hour too many in your own very humble opinion.

you’re wrapped in one of frank’s old sweatshirts to keep yourself warm while he’s not here to do it himself, a quilted throw draped around your shoulders to add to the comfort.

thank god you’ve got a battery pack for your phone because you can’t stop fucking picking it up. to check the dragging time, to check for a mistakenly missed call or text — from anyone at this point. you’d strike up a conversation with that one cooky girl from that one statistics class you took back in college that you nearly flunked all because you’re just that bored. but the one person you really itch to hear from is out, busy doing stuff. he’s busy doing things, punisher things, punisher things that he refuses to concern you with — of course, that is, until he shows up back home bloodied and bruised, in need of stitches, a chalky mouthful of pills, and a little bit of your special TLC that he feels too guilty to ask for.

you say a silent thank you to whoever’s listening for at least not doing this in the middle of a sweltering summer. you’ll take a chilly night over a boiling-hot day any time — layering up is easy; you can only take off so many clothes until there’s nothing left but skin, and you don’t exactly know how to peel that off — but damn if it isn’t annoying.

the pot of coffee you made on the stove earlier has long gone lukewarm by now. you’re toying with the thought that it could be frozen completely solid by the time frank gets home. a low probability, but not entirely impossible, maybe. hm, a frozen pot of coffee. that could probably do some damage. frank could take it with him on patrol and use it to smack bad guys around when his guns get old. they’re two of his favorite things after all, guns and coffee.

a goofy little laugh leaves your lips at the thought of frank whacking someone over the head with a coffee pot, and you’re embarrassingly caught off guard by the quiet chuckle coming from the doorway of your living room.

“what’s got you gigglin’ over there, huh?” frank asks. you didn’t hear the door unlock or the keys drop on the table, too caught up in your thoughts to hear the heavy thud of frank’s boots on the hard wood either.

moonlight was made just for him — it shines from your window and casts a glow on his handsome form. that’s exactly what he is, handsome, your rugged, sturdy man, standing tall and comfortable in the doorway to your living room. you like him always, but you really like him like this, with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips and his strong arms crossed over his chest, shoulder leaned against the doorframe.

he doesn’t look too worse for wear from where you’re sitting, no more than usual, at least. a bruise here, a reopened scar there. you can see more now that his face is clean-shaven and his hair is cropped, styled. the long coat he’s donning covers his arms, but he doesn’t reek of blood like he so often does, so you’re willing to bet those arms of his are in as decent shape as his face too. frank smells… good. like clean aftershave, always like gunpowder. you know if you were to cross the floor, you’d smell coffee on his breath as you so often do.

frank hums like he’s still waiting on an answer.

“i was thinking about you hitting someone over the head with our coffee pot.”

frank scoffs then, shrugs off his coat as he pushes himself from the doorframe. he throws it over the back of the couch and rolls up his sleeves to undo the straps on his vest. the vacant eyes of the white skull stare back at you before frank manages to wrangle it off of himself. he ducks down to untie his boots next, voice dipping in volume as he’s hidden by the back of the couch.

“the pink one? or that black one we got?”

“obviously the pink one,” you say.

“yeah, i could work with that.” frank rights himself after he kicks off his boots and leans down to press his crooked nose to the top of your head. “thought you’d’a been in bed by now. gettin’ late.”

the bed’s too cold without frank beside you even when the power is on. it’s not that you can’t sleep without frank; it’s that you don’t want to.

he rounds the couch and eases down beside you with a heavy sigh, throwing his arm over the back of it and spreading his legs wide. it’s easy to curl up beside him and press your knees to his muscled thigh, content to let frank’s arm slip around your shoulder and pull you into him. he’s just come from outside, but he’s still so fucking warm, big body a furnace that you’re always eager to bask in. frank’s calloused hand finds your shoulder — he palms it, flexing his hand and kneading it into the ball before tapping his thumb against it in a rhythm only he knows.

you throw your arm over his abdomen and cling to him while frank fusses with the blanket draped over your shoulders. he tucks it closer to your chin to make sure your arms are covered up.

“been cold, sweetheart?” frank asks. his voice is soft, higher in his throat where it’s usually deliciously gritty. he’s cooing over you. the hand that isn’t planted on your shoulder makes its way to your outer thigh. his touch is gentle, but frank makes sure to press hard enough for you to feel the warmth from his hand through your pajama pants when he starts to massage your thigh in slow circles.

“fucking freezing,” you say. you press yourself even closer to him like that’ll prove your point, so close that the next step can only be worming your way underneath his clothes and into his skin. “i can see my breath.”

“you cannot.” frank rolls his eyes. “i ever tell you you’re a tad dramatic?”

“i can feel my leg hair growing.”

“you-” frank pauses, takes his hand from your thigh and shoves it right up the leg of your pants to get you squealing. it slips up the skin of your shin where he can most certainly feel the lengthy prickles of stubble you haven’t had the energy or patience to shave off yet. he squeezes you then. “yeah, okay. gonna keep my mouth shut on that one.”

frank’s laugh hisses through his teeth when you swat at his chest, but you both quiet down as his touch returns to your upper thigh. you like when he touches you there — it’d be even better if you weren’t wearing pants at all, you’d do such embarrassing things to feel his rough hands on your tender, bare skin. frank knows exactly how to work you up, his touch just on that perfect side of firmness that causes something to stir deep in your belly. it causes something else to stir too, neglected cunt clenching down on nothing but need, hungry, hungry, hungry and aching for anything he’ll give you.

you’ve never felt this way before. it’s constant — a constant need, a constant desperation. frank always promises to come home to you, but that worry is always there in the back of your mind, only quelled by the touch of his skin to yours when he returns, the rasp of his voice in your ear. that ache you feel is all-encompassing, and frank is the only one who can soothe it.

a mewl leaves your barely parted lips and your legs spread on their own accord. frank doesn’t touch where you want him to, no, not just yet, but he slips his hand further between your legs to pet at the underside of your thigh, the fatty skin right below your ass.

“that feelin’ good t’you, doll?”

he knows it does; it’s in the way your hips reach for his touch, in the way your toes are curling into the couch — he just wants to hear you say it.

“feels good, frankie.” your mouth presses tight to the fabric of his henley, smushing your lips against his shoulder while you cling to him. “feels good when you touch me.”

your honesty gifts you a feather-light swipe of his forefinger along the middle seam of your pajama pants, right over the pulsing heat of your pussy. frank doesn’t linger there for long, it’s just a tease, just a little taste of what’s to come.

“feels good for me too, you know that?” a squeeze to your thigh, tighter this time, enough to make you arch your back. “touchin’ you like this… chrissake, you got any idea what you fuckin’ do to me?”

if it’s anything like what he does to you, you have several ideas. frank doesn’t shy away when your gaze falls to his crotch. he’s fattened up already in his dark pants, all from touching on your plush thighs and feeling your body pressed against his. there’s no move to cover himself, no angling himself away from your sight, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. he sighs out something heavy when you reach for it — that deep exhale edging on a growl just as your fingers cup his bulge. your mouth fucking waters, it does, nearly drooling with the thought of taking him all the way in your throat. frank is hot and heavy under your hand, and your middle and ring fingers dip to press where his balls sit.

those sneaky fingers tugging on the zipper of his pants is what finally does it — that’s what snaps frank out of his heady stupor, a grit to his teeth, a squeeze to your shoulder.

“come on, up. up, we ain’t doin’ this here.”

you’re on cloud nine already with the thought that frank wants to take you to bed so badly. he wants you like you want him, with a fiery tenacity that just doesn’t quit.

the quilt falls from your shoulders and to the floor when frank takes your hand and helps you up. now that you’re not pressed tight to him and the blanket isn’t draped over your shoulders, you’re beginning to feel just how cold the room has turned with the lack of electricity. goosebumps crawl down your arms even under frank’s cozy sweatshirt, raising your hair and making you shiver in place as he starts to tug lightly on your hand.

he doesn’t lead you to your bedroom though, your beautifully lit bedroom, glowing a soft, muted orange and yellow from the candles you’ve got burning on the dresser and nightstands. you frown, gazing wistfully at your comfortable bed as frank pulls you through the open door of the bathroom. he chuckles at the pitiful look on your face, thumbs the furrow between your eyebrows before he slides open the glass door of the shower and turns the knob.

“but-? wait, won't it be…?”

frank shakes his head and makes quick work of his henley. you can’t see much, but the candles on your sink and the dim light from the open door gives you just enough light to see him with. if you’re honest with yourself, the sight of a shirtless frank castle could get you to walk barefoot across hot coals. a cold shower sounds like light work, and at least you’d get to see him soaped up and wet. “nah, water should still be hot for a little bit. thought this might make you feel better. you know, get that leg hair to quit growin’ so damn fast.”

you roll your eyes and fake like you’re going to walk out, but frank grabs you by the hips and pulls you close, a handsome smile on his equally handsome face. his long, thick fingers dip under the hem of his pilfered sweatshirt to feel your skin. you were right earlier — with frank leaning into your space, head dipping down to nudge his nose softly against yours, you can smell the coffee on his breath. his lips are so warm when they brush yours, plush and inviting in a way you never imagined you’d have the blessing of knowing. that slippery tongue of his comes out to play too, lapping gently at your lower lip to seek entrance you always give him. frank kisses like he does everything else in his life: bold, unshakable, cupping the back of your neck to keep you steady when he drives forward. his stance doesn’t waver when you lean your weight into him, he takes it head on, growls into the wet cavern of your mouth because he likes you relaxed and pliant for him, willing.

“get me naked,” you pant, and frank takes that head on too. frank listens well, whether that’s his old marine mentality or just because he likes that you trust him enough to ask for what you want, you’re not sure. it’s probably a little bit of both. your sweatshirt gets rucked over your head and thrown into the corner, but you’re the one tugging fitfully on your loose pants and the elastic of your panties, all because frank gets an eyeful of your tits.

your nipples are hard; you feel it happen the moment your body loses the warmth of his sweatshirt. they pebble up quickly, tighten on your chest so fast that it makes a chill lick down your spine. his head ducks again, but instead of pressing his lips to yours, he kisses down the swell of your breast, cups the fatty mounds in his big hands. you’re standing on your tiptoes by the time he starts to squeeze them.

“frank,” you whine. “frankie-! frankie, please. ‘m cold.”

it’s not nearly as bad as it was now that the steam from the warm shower is filling the bathroom, but your newly bared body still hasn’t grown accustomed to it yet.

“shit, yeah,” frank pulls away from your chest like he’s forgotten where he was. “yeah, guess i got a little distracted, huh? here, step outta those, doll, come on. you wanna test out the water?”

you’re not surprised that it’s perfect, not too hot, not too cold. it’s goldilocks — as expected, frank pays such diligent attention to you. the water is blissfully warm on your skin when you step under the spray of the shower after stepping out of your pants. it plasters your hair down your back, rolls down your body and pools at your feet.

the clink of frank’s belt and the fwump of his pants on the tile are the only warnings you get before he’s stepping in behind you, the slide of calloused hands around your waist smoothed by cascading water.

you arch your back, urging him to continue where he left off moments prior. frank is a smart man, easily taking your cues and slipping his hands up your ribs and to your chest, cupping the mounds of your breasts in his hands again.

“goddamn. christ, sweetheart,” he breathes. “best fuckin’ pair’a tits i’ve ever seen, i ever tell you that?”

you’d answer, but you can’t, because frank puts his mouth back on them. frank’s scalding mouth puts the warmth of the water to shame, pressing searing kisses down your neck to your chest and wrapping those plump, pink lips around a swollen little bud. you both moan then, frank’s muffled by the nipple he’s sucked between his lips while yours ricochets from glass wall to tile. he bats it with his tongue, purses his lips to pull it further into the wet heat of his mouth all while kneading the other in his hand. he loves on your other nipple just as well, rolling it between two of his thick fingers and pinching sporadically. the thud of your head against the tile is almost drowned out by the wet sounds from frank’s lips and the rain of the shower — you squeeze your eyes shut, rake your fingers through his wet hair.

“oh, fuck,” you whimper, and frank grunts.

a thin string of spit connects you together when he pulls away, but he doesn’t stay gone for long. frank presses your tits together, pushes up with his hands to bring them closer to his eager mouth. his tongue meets you first. it drags wetly from the underside of your breast all the way up the peak of your nipple and collects the rivulets of water sliding down your skin. his breath is ragged and hot; his lips purse again as he spits the water back onto the sensitive mound. frank kisses his way across your chest to latch onto your other nipple with a slick noise, looking up at you with those deep brown eyes as you hold him to your chest. it’s too much to handle, the wet suction of his mouth and those droopy puppy dog eyes looking up at you.

frank is too distracting for your own good. his lips have you seeing stars, flying so high that you don’t notice the absence of one of his hands or the sound of the dual showerhead being removed from the wall. you only notice when frank stands at his full height — he towers over you like this, looks down at you with those damn eyes. he doesn’t say a word, but his intent is clear as day when he turns the dial at the base of the showerhead, switching the stream of water from a broad rain to a concentrated jet.

“prop that leg up right there. attagirl, there you go. listen so goddamn well, don’t you?”

you nod, adjusting your foot on the small bench in the corner of your shower and trying to stand steady in all your desperate anticipation. frank wraps one arm around your waist; you’re not going anywhere, back pressed to the chilly tile as frank brings the showerhead between your spread legs.

the cascading water splashes against your thighs first, your swollen lips. it splatters to the floor loudly, but it all muffles in your ears when frank finally directs the jet towards your aching clit. you jolt, jolt again, wrapping a frantic arm around frank’s shoulders and clawing your nails into the ball of one.

“oh my god!” you wheeze. “oh my god, oh my-”

your legs tremble, already liquified. you know for certain that you wouldn’t be standing at all if it weren’t for frank’s steady grip.

with the stream of the showerhead concentrated between your legs, the rest of your body grows cold. water droplets chill and dry on the skin of your shoulders, your wet hair drips down your spine and makes you shiver. goosebumps follow, creeping down your arms. it’s frank that keeps you warm though. he pulls you into his chest, tightens his arm around your waist, and noses against your cheek. breathes hotly into your ear.

if it were you holding the showerhead, your wrist would be cramping by now. you’d be whining something pitiful, shaky grasp on the handle loosening in order to adjust your fingers and inadvertently causing that powerful stream to shift away from where you need it most. but not frank. frank’s hold on the showerhead is unwavering. whether his wrist is aching or his fingers are cramping, you’d never know.

it feels so good that it almost hurts; your mouth hangs open as your clit throbs under the constant flow of water. there’s that heat again — the heat that boils deep in your belly, rising and rising under frank’s ministrations. it won’t take long now, not after the intensity of his touches earlier. your hips buck once and then stutter backwards, so overwhelmed by pleasure you don’t know how to handle it.

“don’t you run from it,” frank purrs. “i got you. got you right here.”

“please-! pleasepleaseplease!”

your hips buck again, grinding fitfully against the pressure of the water in your mounting need to cum. frank drinks in the expression on your face with wild eyes, his tongue lapping at his upper lip, holding the showerhead steady so you can use it the way you want.

“yeah, move those hips. that’s right, there you fuckin’ go. that’s what i like to see.”

your toes curl where they’re propped on the bench. you’re keening so loud it echoes throughout the bathroom, pitiful to your own ears but music to frank’s. your orgasm washes over you so strongly that your legs try to snap together, all that pressure, that concentrated pleasure makes you wobble precariously where you’re standing and makes your fingers tighten their hold on frank. your hips rut frantically into nothing as frank drops the handle to hold you up, and you cry out at the feeling of his hand slipping right between your clamped legs to help you ride out your orgasm.

it takes a moment to come back to yourself — it always does after an orgasm like that, but you come to with strong arms around you and a deep, gritty voice mumbling in your ear. there’s a bone-deep satisfaction you feel that only manifests itself when frank’s around, and it’s doubled, tripled with you in his embrace. he kisses your temple when your lips press to the center of his chest.

“there she is,” frank whispers. “there’s my pretty girl. my girl. feelin’ good, bambi?”

a bite to the muscular swell of his pec has him swatting your ass lightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

frank waits until your tremors quiet down to hook the dual showerhead back in its place and turn the dial once more, warm water once again raining over the two of you.

something even warmer bumps against your belly. something so warm it’s almost searing; you can feel frank’s precum sticking to your skin where his tip nudges you, and you can feel the deep breath he exhales like you were the one who did it, all because your fingers curl their way around the heavy base of him. the slide is easy — the water and his leaking precum help with that.

you’re still fondling him even as you turn around to press your chest to the wall. frank follows, steps up behind you and pushes close. he growls deep in his throat at the arch of your back, poking your ass out and purposefully grinding back on him to feel that hot length between your cheeks. he lets you play, a stable hand rubbing up and down your spine just so you can feel him there too. you guide him down, grip easing the moment your desperate grinding has his cock slipping between your lips, tip pressing hot to your pudgy, sensitive clit.

“yeah, that what you want? that what you fuckin’ want from me?” frank’s voice is so deep it makes your eyes flutter and your cunt pulsate. “put me where you want me then. you just do what you need to do, baby, ‘m followin’ you.”

that low gravel of his voice does all the right things for you, hits all the right spots. you guide him again, pressing that mushroom tip to the give of your cunt. you’re so relaxed from your previous orgasm that he slips in easily, pussy pliant and giving just like the entirety of you. frank eases himself the rest of the way in with a sinful roll of his hips and a rumbling huff.

the spear of his cock makes you find your voice again — you remember how to talk just as frank angles himself deep and hits that special spot.

“please fuck me,” you beg, slow and pitiful. “frankie, please, god, please.”

his hands slide up to your ribs to hold you there. they’re gentle, so gentle it aches, a touch so tender your heart nearly skips a beat in your chest, punishing hands turned merciful with the way he loves you.

“sound so goddamn beautiful like that, moanin’ my name… christ. fuckin’ irresistible, sweetheart.”

your calves burn. you’re up on your tiptoes again, doing anything in your power to feel him completely, grinding back to meet frank’s fluid thrusts. frank is deep like this — so deep you swear you feel him all the way up in your heart, keeping it beating and your blood pumping. you cup your hands over his where they still caress your ribs, lift them higher so he can feel the bounce of your breasts against the tile wall.

“s-so fucking good. you fuck me so good!” you whimper. frank growls behind you, picking up his pace and pulling you back onto him. “touch me- touch me more, hold onto me, please.”

frank is quick to follow orders, pulling you away from the wall and back into his sturdy, slick chest. he wraps his arms around you, one around your waist and one just under your neck, holding tight.

“yeah. yeahhh, that how you like it?”

it pulls a feeble cry from your lips. your head bobbles, an enthusiastic yes that you just can’t verbalize — he’s fucking the words right out of you. he gets your legs shaking again with two fingers to your sensitive clit and the piston of his thick cock. it’s almost too much, that little bud aches, pulses in quiet overstimulation, but frank knows just how to touch you when you feel like this. your cunt clenches, and frank’s deep groan echoes along the shower walls.

“attafuckin’girl, attagirl, sweetheart, stay tight for me. keep squeazin’ me just like that.”

that steady circling of his fingers on your clit is like your very own hypnotic pattern, body obeying his command like a pavlovian response. besides, frank’s got you so on edge that the fluttering of your pussy comes naturally. that warmth in your belly bubbles up at a surprising speed, sending you hurtling towards your orgasm before you can anticipate it.

“i-!” your fingers clutch his arms. frank moves you like a ragdoll, uses his grip on you to pull you back onto his thrusts. his tongue finds the lobe of your ear and it shocks a squeal out of you. “i’m gonna cum! ‘m gonna cum, please, please frankie, please. i wanna- wanna be good, wanna be good and cum for you.”

the rumble that leaves frank’s chest vibrates your back. he’s satisfied — you can feel his teeth against your ear, a proud grin pressed to your wet hair.

“fuckin’ unreal. just fuckin’ unreal. you let go when you need to, baby. you remember what i told you, huh? you remember? good girls get to cum whenever they fuckin’ want, ain’t that right? and you’re my good girl, so you do it, sweetheart. you let me have it.”

frank’s words are electric and you’re a livewire, no conduit in place to hold you back and keep you from sparking a fire. it buzzes through you like a current, ignites you like a flame, and you’re shaking apart in frank’s arms for the second time tonight. your pussy contracts so tightly through your orgasm that frank almost whimpers, something cotton-candy sweet that would dissolve on your tongue if you were only able to taste it.

he knows you’re done. frank knows you’ve taken all you can take, and his cock slips from the vice of your clenching core with a wet noise that makes him hiss. you clench again, bearing down on nothing like you want to suck him right back in where he belongs. you’d let him fuck you until he got his own if the overstimulation you’re starting to feel wasn’t bordering on painful, but frank’s always been selfless when it comes to you, so he pulls out of your warmth even though his cock is angry and purpling at the tip.

frank looks to the ceiling when you turn around and drop straight to your knees.

“christ, you crazy? didn’t hurt your knees, did you? fuck, you could’a just- could’a just stayed up and-”

and what, you’re not sure. frank doesn’t finish his thought because you lave the flat of your tongue from base to leaking tip of his cock. frank’s jaw ticks, his lip curls on a snarl when you take him into the hot cavern of your mouth.

your eyes slip closed. you’d be worried you’d get water in them if frank wasn’t shielding you from the shower spray, big body angled and stance widened to keep the water off your face. he needs it more than you do anyway — the warm water on his back probably feels good to all those aching muscles of his. you sigh through your nose though; it edges on a muffled whine as you slip him further into you. just like it did earlier, your mouth waters, this time because you’ve finally gotten a taste of him the way you wanted. he tastes like you, a heady combination of your tangy sweetness and his own clean musk.

you can’t take him all the way down. not yet at least — that usually takes time and practice and something soft to pad your knees. your slick hand compensates instead and takes what your throat can’t, fingers curling around the base and meeting your mouth in the middle.

“ain’t gonna last long with you takin’ me in that pretty fuckin’ mouth. ‘s what you want, though, yeah? you want somethin’ from me?”

you pull off of him with a pop, pausing before you answer to swirl your tongue around the head and lap at his slit.

“your cum. please, please, that’s what i want. wanna swallow it ‘til you can’t give me anymore.” frank curses roughly, and your eyes roll. even just thinking about swallowing his load makes you want to go again, but you suck him back into your mouth with a renewed vigor despite the exhaustion nipping at your heels. you can use that to your advantage too — frank thinks you’re too cute when you’re sleepy, when your blinks slow down and you get that almost far away look in your eyes.

your knees are starting to ache, but you put that behind you and focus your energy on making him cum. frank’s fingers hold your hair back from your forehead, keeping it out of your eyes and off your face as the bobbing of your head picks up.

you know you’ve got him when you blink up at him slowly. frank’s puppy dog eyes are brutal, but yours nearly knock him off his feet on a good day. hook, line, and sinker, his fingers trail down and he thumbs the corner of your eye.

“please,” you beg, his cock resting on your bottom lip sinfully. “frank. frankie, i want it. please?”

your lips wrap around him again but tighter this time, increasing the suction on his head just how he likes. frank’s hips are edging forward unconsciously so he can ease himself deeper into your mouth. he grunts when your hand drags down to fondle his balls, shouts when a finger dips even lower to press right behind them. frank cums that way, down your throat like you wished for, shoots bitter, pearly ropes onto your tastebuds until he’s given you all he’s got.

you suck him deep one more time, tongue dragging up the underside of his softening cock and kissing the spent tip when you’re done. your jaw drops open, your tongue lolls out to show him you’ve swallowed every bit of him. he doesn’t ask for that, doesn’t expect you to at all — he’s cupped a calloused hand underneath your chin and offered for you to spit it into waiting palm on more than one occasion, but you like it, and frank couldn’t deny you that if someone paid him to.

“attagirl,” frank breathes. he cups your chin, swipes his thumb along your wet tongue. he helps you off the floor then, shoulders more of the work than you do in fact, using those strong arms to pull you from your kneel and right into his sturdy chest.

frank doesn’t startle when the water starts to cool on his skin. it’s slight at first, but you know the longer you stand in each other’s embrace the colder it’ll get.

he kisses the top of your wet head.

“hey, you want me to hand you that real quick?”

you hum a questioning noise into his chest. frank points to the wall just as you lift your head up, and the still-burning candles give off just enough light for you to see what he’s pointing at.

your razor, sitting untouched and sad and alone in the soap holder.

“oh my- frank!” you swat at his chest, but an incredulous laugh tumbles from your lips. he pecks your temple, noses down your cheek and presses his smile there. “you’re a shithead.”

“that’s right. got a feelin’ you like it though, sweetheart.”

#amethyst recs ✨#frank castle x reader

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jaggedamethyst · 4 days ago

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okay update…disappeared again bc i’ve been exhausted from school so my urgency to type anything is completely gone again lmao.

school burnout is real ugh

#updates ❗️

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jaggedamethyst · 7 days ago

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e’s reading corner ❀࿐ (cont.)

just had to make another one of these! this might become a regular thing. there’s a dabble of yelena, nat and 1 joel miller fic haha.

if there is a * next to work — that means below are other works from the same author

all works are 18+ minors please do not interact! you are responsible for your media consumption! — fic range from soft smut to dark smut to some fluff.

suckin and f**kin — @cosmicwavelengths

wherever you stray i follow — @sinner-as-saint *

— stick to me, like caramel *

— this vertigo of bliss *

— the alchemy *

tempting — @pedgito joel miller x reader

lights out — @moonlightsolo

yield to me — @mercurial-chuckles

crowd of darkness — @crowsofdarkness stucky x reader

shut up — @fandoms-writings *

— little schemer *

not in that way (series) — @jaggedamethyst

until the bed breaks (it does) — @progooner123

oh my love, side to side — @daddyjackfrost

novacane — @lanadelreyscokewhor3

say please — @whambamsami *

— private show (series) part one | part two | part three *

heavy in your arms — @buckytakethewheel

dog tags — @marvelwitchergilmore

bucky with a size kink — @barnessangel

thick arms, slow grind — @societyfolklore *

— it’s what i’m here for *

— that was mine *

science section — @neilsbeloved

on command — @buckyseternaldoll *

—mirror me *

late night — @materia-girl

hamster wars — @arkofangels yelena x reader

breeding — @citrus-library dark!yelena x reader

love, you should’ve come over — @koiiiso yelena x reader

push and pull — @essenti9l yelena x reader

well, you’re early — @buckybarnesslutshop

you’re late

last stop to love — @jobean12-blog *

— just my type *

good vibrations — @navybrat817 *

— sanctuary *

— room for one more *

— a kindred spirit *

sharp dressed man —

you deserve nice things too —@buckysleftbicep*

— for better or for worse (series) *

— briefed and blown *

— high for this *

— exit wounds *

— lined up *

— salvation never tasted this sweet *

his girls — @artficlly

stalker!emily prentiss — @/babydoll372

fifteen minutes — @little-miss-dilf-lover *

— morning wood *

printsessa — @scarlethexelove nat x reader

be good — @barnesmutt

just take it — @pome-seed

i think i love you — @danysdaughter

emerald nights — @mandoalorian *

— meet cute *

— after hours *

washington’s finest @flofaiiry

you are not alone — @sebstanaddict

the faster we’re falling — @bcksbarnes

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jaggedamethyst · 10 days ago

Text

in case you missed my comeback 😁

not in that way (part four)

bucky barnes x fwb!reader

content: you seek out bucky this time...only for him to realize there's more to you than he thought.

warnings: 18+ smut minors dni, unprotected sex, a mix of soft and rough sex, degradation if you squint so insanely hard, mean bucky again, mutual pining

notes: not proofread. i usually upload and revisit later! also havent read the previous parts in a while so I might come back and change anything that doesn't necessarily fit them

ps: ty for the support as always! and im so sorry for the break. i had a bunch of work to do, but I am now free!

series master list

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

Any building the Avengers were in was an automatic escape from reality. There were always workers, things going on, and a consistent buzzing sound that left the entire space vibrating. The hustle and bustle of being a superhero was one you weren’t fond of, but the feeling of invisibility was more than welcome. It was so much so that you’d even find yourself here when Steve wasn’t—familiarizing yourself with the ins and outs, claiming areas as your own, and finding the best quiet nooks for your alone time. You could do this at home, sure, but your place was inherently filled with a sadness you didn’t like. There was a loneliness you couldn’t escape—that there was really nobody.

You settled for the consistent background sound and ambience of the Avengers Tower. Here, at the very least, you could escape the confines of your own mind and the debilitating existentialism.

Your brain was admittedly split into pieces, like a diagram of each section, clear-cut with a dedicated function. When you weren’t letting yourself fall into thoughts of your being alone in this world, you saw Bucky. Often, it was just to question his actions. Other times, a dissection of why he occupied so much of your time.

You couldn’t help but float to him now, your mind wandering to what he was doing, how he felt. The thought only burned you more, that he couldn’t care less about how you felt. That he only cared about having his way, the image he portrayed to Steve. You knew he wasn’t like that, not really. Watching movies with you, agreeing to a party…they were so unlike him, and you noticed. You hated how much of him you were aware of—of a friend that was still somehow hardly that.

Without thinking more of it, you stood, legs taking you around the tower. You were aimless, not particularly having a course, but walking with a soft determination nonetheless. People didn’t notice you, they never did. You weren’t exactly outgoing; everything about you showed that, and people didn’t approach you unless it was mandatory. You kind of liked it, the way you could walk around here without being bothered.

You hoped Bucky wasn’t the same. You hoped he secretly appreciated being bothered, that he wouldn’t mind you interrupting his day. You tapped on his door lightly, one you would usually ignore on purpose.

You didn’t hear him approach the door, his steps almost always light enough not to be heard. He shocked you when he opened the door, a flat look on his face.

“Hey.”

“Can I come in?”

You skipped the pleasantries, gliding past Bucky when he stepped back. You look around now, never really getting a full look of his space, but recognizing it as Bucky’s regardless.

The tower was massive, somehow allowing each room to be its own mini-apartment. Each had their own living spaces that doubled as bedrooms, bathrooms off to the side, and plenty of space for self-expression. Despite this, there was nothing that individualized his quarters. Everything was pristine. There wasn’t a wrinkle in sight, his bed seemingly untouched, like he hadn’t even sat there. The room didn’t have a scent that stood out to you, but rather one of cleanliness. The faint smell of cleaning products lingered, not fresh, but indicative that he kept his room clean without really trying.

“Did you need something?” Bucky interrupted your observation, speaking behind you as he stood close to the door.

You thought about not replying the way you wanted, you really had, but it was too easy. The thought of the tables turning, that you finally would be able to comfortably express your desire to him, had your legs buckling before you even began.

“No,” you smirked playfully, “Just you.”

He lowered his head at that, nodding to himself in understanding. He let out a dry chuckle, one that hurt more than you expected. “Can’t right now—I’m busy.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

“Things.”

Your face twisted at that, your entire body freezing in place. The distance became glaringly obvious to you now, how he hadn’t approached like he usually would. He was so confusing, a trait that normally only added to the allure. It wasn’t working for you now, though, not when you were bored and desperate and craving the attention only he could provide.

“So when you do it—show up and just initiate-“ your hands waved frantically. You were confused, erratic, and your ability to keep calm was escaping you. “So when you do it, it’s okay?”

He sighed at that, looking away, “I’m just busy today, that’s all.”

Bucky could hear the unspoken phrase that lingered between you both.

What about me?

It was filled with much more than a question of the hypocrisy in his actions. He was glad you decided against it; he knew he would give in immediately. For both of you, it was yet another step toward an unsuspectingly high ledge. To pose such a question, to ask him anything about you, would have Bucky following after you. No matter how high the ledge, how devastating the fall, he convinced himself that he would follow you over a cliff.

“I don’t understand you…at all.” You sighed, “How’d we even get here?”

Bucky shook his head, “I don’t know. It’s just...”

You watched him trail off, once again paralyzed by the tense situation. “Maybe we should stop whatever this is, for the sake of what remains of our friendship.” Bucky’s head snapped up at you, making your words falter slightly. “I just,” you looked down to the floor, “I can’t keep hurting Steve this way, hurting myself-“

“Am I hurting you?”

Across the room, you saw Bucky’s body rise and fall slightly, his breath a bit uneven and faintly escaping him. He looked at you, not speaking anymore, but wanting an answer from you. He’d never hurt you intentionally. He would never willingly play with your mind in the way you were suggesting. Yet he realized he was doing just that, not only to himself by ignoring the way he craved you, but to you by making you feel crazy for acting just as he had.

He wanted to be near you.

The pull he had toward you this time was different, a tension in his chest that told him to make this up to you. His own mind was getting in the way again, and you were a victim of him…a consistent casualty.

He watched your face, it was still searching for an answer to his question. The truth was that it wasn’t simple. Maybe you were hurting him. Perhaps you were hurting each other.

Bucky couldn’t care anymore.

“Come here.”

Your eyes snapped up at the sound of Bucky’s voice, much softer than it was usually. “What?”

He sat on the edge of his bed. “Sit with me, please?”

You were reluctant, and it was apparent in your walk. It was hard for Bucky not to feel jittery watching you, like he had once again started something that only ended one way.

The silence lingered between the two of you as you sat, keeping a respectable distance away from Bucky. He noticed that, but didn’t blame you. In fact, that’s exactly his worry…it's always been that.

“No one’s gonna show up.”

“What?”

Bucky had spoken randomly, an admission you hadn’t expected, so quick that you didn’t even realize what he was talking about.

“Nobody’s gonna celebrate me or what I’ve done,” he turned to look at you, “and I think I deserve that.”

You inhaled slowly, “The party?”

“The party.”

Bucky could only nod, letting his eyes leave you and stare ahead. You followed his eyeline and found a blank wall in front of him. Quickly, you realized most of the walls were like this…a sort of torture to the man you knew was anything less than the basic color.

You huffed at that, the way he thought so little of himself. Even more so at the way it physically showed in his private space. You didn’t think before a hand slid into his, thumb gliding over his skin. You hadn’t expected that, for him not to be wearing his gloves for once. It was weirdly intimate—the barrier that was usually present between you no longer there.

“Mistakes don’t make us any less worthy of life.”

It was abrupt, reminiscent of the gruff tone Bucky usually had. It was uncharacteristic of you. So much so that you could feel him looking at you now, concerned.

You continued, not looking at Bucky but still grasping his hand. “Accidents,” a breath caught in your throat. “Accidents happen, yeah. But what happened to you…wasn’t you. You have to understand that.” You finally turned to him, finding his eyes already on you. “It could be so much worse.”

A flicker in his eye let you know that he saw something there…that these weren’t just empty platitudes about how life sucks. You had personal experience.

You avoided eye contact because of it, a sadness on your face he hated seeing. Without thinking, he let himself grasp your face and pull you toward him. Your lips collided with his before you could even conceptualize what was happening.

Your hands went up to his wrists, finding any source of contact with him you could. The kiss was sweet, the weight of emotions becoming apparent. Bucky let himself be present with you in a way he hadn’t so far.

You couldn’t let yourself think before starting to strip yourself of any barrier between the pair of you. He followed suit, keeping his lips on you as best he could while simultaneo usly removing his clothes.

Eventually, he broke contact, allowing himself the sight of crawling back on his bed before he pressed you down.

He decided against any foreplay, wanting to be with you immediately. Bucky slid into you the same as he had before, inhaling at the tightness but not letting himself be hindered by it. You loved it, and he could tell—the specific feeling of him inside you with no extra slick to ease him in. It was painful in the best way. You nodded then, a silent affirmation to him to keep going, that you could take it. He obliged without thinking, a sickeningly slow pace sliding in and out of you now.

Your whines filled the room, an indication to Bucky that you were enjoying yourself. The sharpness was still there, though, a slight twitch in your muscles telling him so. Without thinking, he rubbed into your thighs. He attempted to quell that part of you that was slightly raw, despite your enjoyment. He was obsessed with the way you took him, how you’d simply let his name fall from your lips as he sank further and deeper. He watched you, eyes fluttering shut.

“Am I hurting you?”

It was different this time, Bucky’s voice dripping with the sound of that smirk he always had. The one you’d observed when he tried to seem closed off…the coy look on his face when he tried to be deceptive.

He was hurting you, yes, but in the best way imaginable.

The thought had you reeling, only brought back by the feeling of coldness slapping against your chin. Your eyes opened reluctantly. At first, you immediately honed in on the sight of Bucky inside you. Watching his length disappear in and out of you had your body on fire…a vision of pure bliss. But that slapping.

Bucky’s dog tags hung around his neck, skin glistening from his work on you. He didn’t stop as he watched your face twist, still kneading into your skin as he kept fucking into you.

You let a hand reach up, an attempt to move the chain that was bothering you. To your surprise, Bucky clasped your hand and pulled it toward his mouth. He kissed over your skin there, soft pecks lingering over your palm and wrist before intertwining his metal fingers with yours.

“I got it,” Bucky grunted between strokes.

With his free hand, he reached up to remove the clasp at the back of his neck. You watched him, an incredulous look on your face as he somehow kept driving into you. He let the chain fall, skillfully wrapping it around your neck below him. He adjusted it, pulling the tags down on your chest.

He kept going, ogling the sight of you wearing his tags, even more so at the swell of your nipples. He made sure to rub them, rolling them underneath his palm in a movement that had you weakened…even more so.

“Gosh- oh-“

Bucky had leaned down then, embracing you in a tight hug with one arm as the other still clasped onto your hand. He kept your intertwined hands beside your head, allowing the other to roam free…and it did. You found his back now, smoothing over the warmed skin and up to his neck.

You whispered in his ear, “Keep going…”

He simply nodded, committed to fucking away any memory you had of his wrongdoing. He wanted that for himself, too. Bucky wanted to start anew somehow, despite it being impossible. So he settled for this, pulling in and out of you, drawing pure audible filth from your throat.

He was quite happy with himself, smiling into your neck as he nibbled there. He made sure to keep you close…impossibly so, appreciating the feel of his tags between the two of you. He imagined the meal engraving into your skin, a mark that he’d had no right to yearn for but wanted nonetheless…for you to be his entirely.

His voice came out shakier than he thought it would, “I’m close.”

He felt you nod, a fervent shake against the pillows. He slipped a hand between you at that, rubbing you in a way only he could. It was quick, clearly pushing you toward the edge.

Your body jerked against him, walls spasming as he sped up his pace. Bucky kept with his torturous hand motions, too, observing every reaction he drew from you. He couldn’t help but leave kisses over your skin as he came…anchoring himself to you.

He loved moments like this, breaths ragged as you calmed down together. You watched as his back rose and fell, the arch of his muscles in your view.

You let him stay there as you embraced each other, fingertips gliding over the back of his hardened hand.

Suddenly, Bucky felt your breath press into his ear. “Even if it’s just me, you, and Steve,” you reached up to run your fingers through his hair. “Even if it’s just us…it’ll be worthwhile, I promise.”

A slow, deep breath and a simple reply resounded from the man.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Bucky nestled into you further, voice muffled. “Yeah…okay.”

tag list (click to request to be tagged, please read tag list rules)

@crookedtimetravelheart @wintercrows @rimunagenius @gorgeouslylethal @taylormobley @fan4astic @chimchoom @lilulo-12 @greatenthusiasttidalwave @hrlzy @foxinthestreet98 @lostinspace33 @royallykt @sleepysongbirdsings @pickuptruck01 @unclearblur @mrsalexstan @akiyhara @spaceconveyor @winchestert101 @chinggay85-blog @misschicl3 @bbyboyycal @aurafite @scott-loki-barnes @the-sylver-dragon @bxtchboy69 @mrsnikstan @lilbloggs @ana-cxst @regics @oceanaroma @milaer @lexavalon052 @anonymously-buckys @maryevm @blazeflays @p1nkgirly333 @antiartemis @abitofblues @a-century-of-sass

@mindsofjade @jumpingjackalope @smalland-angry @slasherbuck @nicolebarnes @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @bonnyclydecat @coutureisart @blackhawkfanatic @arianagreenblattfanxx10 @vxllys @winchesterbbygrl @andmuzzlethat @sebastians-love @icedcoffeeisyummy @latenightfuggin @47chickens @rnurse-kole @aaronhotchenerswife15 @ruexj283 @liberaceintreble @toalltheboyswhowastedmytime @justpeachyparker @basicallynotbreathing @axen-gers @rosemary0414 @sennasiempre @yes-ilovetowrite @1967barracuda

(for some of you it may not let me tag, check ur settings!)

#icymi <3 #bucky barnes x #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #james barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes

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jaggedamethyst · 10 days ago

Text

not in that way master + tag list 🩶✨

bucky barnes x fwb!reader (series, in progress)

content: steve rogers is your best friend, which means that inherently bucky should be yours too. somewhere along the way, it became more than that for you. for bucky, it's just tolerance. he likes you, but not like that. not in that way.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, fwb, mutual pining, miscommunication, canon typical violence probably

"Should we—should I tell Steve about this?"

"Why would you when it's not serious?"

(comment to be in the tag list!!)

⭐️

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

part seven

- updated june 14 -

992 notes · View notes

jaggedamethyst · 10 days ago

Text

not in that way (part four)

bucky barnes x fwb!reader

content: you seek out bucky this time...only for him to realize there's more to you than he thought.

warnings: 18+ smut minors dni, unprotected sex, a mix of soft and rough sex, degradation if you squint so insanely hard, mean bucky again, mutual pining

notes: not proofread. i usually upload and revisit later! also havent read the previous parts in a while so I might come back and change anything that doesn't necessarily fit them

ps: ty for the support as always! and im so sorry for the break. i had a bunch of work to do, but I am now free!

series master list

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

You settled for the consistent background sound and ambience of the Avengers Tower. Here, at the very least, you could escape the confines of your own mind and the debilitating existentialism.

You didn’t hear him approach the door, his steps almost always light enough not to be heard. He shocked you when he opened the door, a flat look on his face.

“Hey.”

“Can I come in?”

You skipped the pleasantries, gliding past Bucky when he stepped back. You look around now, never really getting a full look of his space, but recognizing it as Bucky’s regardless.

“Did you need something?” Bucky interrupted your observation, speaking behind you as he stood close to the door.

“No,” you smirked playfully, “Just you.”

He lowered his head at that, nodding to himself in understanding. He let out a dry chuckle, one that hurt more than you expected. “Can’t right now—I’m busy.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

“Things.”

“So when you do it—show up and just initiate-“ your hands waved frantically. You were confused, erratic, and your ability to keep calm was escaping you. “So when you do it, it’s okay?”

He sighed at that, looking away, “I’m just busy today, that’s all.”

Bucky could hear the unspoken phrase that lingered between you both.

What about me?

“I don’t understand you…at all.” You sighed, “How’d we even get here?”

Bucky shook his head, “I don’t know. It’s just...”

“Am I hurting you?”

He wanted to be near you.

He watched your face, it was still searching for an answer to his question. The truth was that it wasn’t simple. Maybe you were hurting him. Perhaps you were hurting each other.

Bucky couldn’t care anymore.

“Come here.”

Your eyes snapped up at the sound of Bucky’s voice, much softer than it was usually. “What?”

He sat on the edge of his bed. “Sit with me, please?”

You were reluctant, and it was apparent in your walk. It was hard for Bucky not to feel jittery watching you, like he had once again started something that only ended one way.

“No one’s gonna show up.”

“What?”

Bucky had spoken randomly, an admission you hadn’t expected, so quick that you didn’t even realize what he was talking about.

“Nobody’s gonna celebrate me or what I’ve done,” he turned to look at you, “and I think I deserve that.”

You inhaled slowly, “The party?”

“The party.”

“Mistakes don’t make us any less worthy of life.”

It was abrupt, reminiscent of the gruff tone Bucky usually had. It was uncharacteristic of you. So much so that you could feel him looking at you now, concerned.

A flicker in his eye let you know that he saw something there…that these weren’t just empty platitudes about how life sucks. You had personal experience.

Eventually, he broke contact, allowing himself the sight of crawling back on his bed before he pressed you down.

“Am I hurting you?”

He was hurting you, yes, but in the best way imaginable.

Bucky’s dog tags hung around his neck, skin glistening from his work on you. He didn’t stop as he watched your face twist, still kneading into your skin as he kept fucking into you.

“I got it,” Bucky grunted between strokes.

“Gosh- oh-“

You whispered in his ear, “Keep going…”

His voice came out shakier than he thought it would, “I’m close.”

He felt you nod, a fervent shake against the pillows. He slipped a hand between you at that, rubbing you in a way only he could. It was quick, clearly pushing you toward the edge.

He loved moments like this, breaths ragged as you calmed down together. You watched as his back rose and fell, the arch of his muscles in your view.

You let him stay there as you embraced each other, fingertips gliding over the back of his hardened hand.

A slow, deep breath and a simple reply resounded from the man.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Bucky nestled into you further, voice muffled. “Yeah…okay.”

tag list (click to request to be tagged, please read tag list rules)

(for some of you it may not let me tag, check ur settings!)

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