#castle x y/n

[chvoswxtch]

teach me

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you want frank to teach you self defense, but it doesn't quite go the way you expected.

warnings: swearing, some angst, mentions of guns, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 8.3k

a/n: what better way to end this year and start the new one than with our favorite hot bodyguard. don't ask me how many times I watched that scene with him and amy. it was for science. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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“You’re being a dick.”

“Hey, you said you wanted to learn.”

“You’re still being a dick.”

“Yeah yeah, you ain’t gettin’ no sympathy from me, sweetheart. Now c’mon, try again.”

It was a good thing the cabin was isolated in the middle of the woods, because if anyone had been looking in the living room window at that very moment, they would’ve definitely called the police in horror. Frank had a gun in his right hand that was trained on you, and while he wore a neutral expression on his face, your brows were furrowed in pure annoyance and there was a faint scowl on your lips.

Letting out a huff of irritation, you kept your eyes focused on the gun in Frank’s hand, getting back into somewhat of a fighting stance again. Clenching your hands open and closed a few times, your teeth sank down into your bottom lip before you suddenly rushed forward in an endeavor to take the gun out of his hand. 

But just like he had done the past seven times you tried this, Frank easily managed to block your attempt. He grabbed your wrist in his free hand and spun you around swiftly, pulling you back firmly against his chest while a deep chuckle sounded right next to your ear.

“That was real cute.”

Letting go of you, Frank took a step back and lightly pressed at the back of your knee with the heel of his boot, sending you down to your knees below him. He decided to take it a step further and used the toe of his boot to gently shove at your ass, causing your hands to fly out to catch yourself, rendering you on all fours in front of him. Turning to narrow your eyes at him over your shoulder, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth let you know that was very intentional.

“You know, if you wanted me on my knees, all you had to do was ask.”

“That right?”

Grumbling a string of curses under your breath, you pushed yourself back up onto your feet and turned around to shoot a death glare in Frank’s direction. His plush lips instantly parted into a crooked grin while he looked at you, cocking his head to the side slightly while his eyes twinkled in amusement.

“Aw, what’s wrong baby, hm?”

“I already told you, you’re being a dick. You’re supposed to be teaching me-”

“Then why don’t you quit actin’ like you know everythin’ and start askin’ questions, yeah?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know what questions to ask? I asked you to teach me. Teach me means tell me what to do.”

“And when have you ever done what I told ya to?”

As you opened your mouth to protest, Frank arched one of his thick brows and shot you a pointed look, and your rebuttal quickly died on your tongue. You did have a history of ignoring his instructions completely and doing whatever you wanted anyway. With that in mind, you let out a deep exhale through your nose and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Okay, that’s…fair. But this is completely out of my area of expertise. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never even held a gun until four days ago. And for the record, when it comes to something serious, I do listen to you. This is serious, and I’m listening.”

Originally when you asked Frank to teach you self defense with a gun, he was completely against it. He made the argument that with him around, you wouldn’t have to worry about that, to which you reminded him of the incident where two people tried to kill you in your own home where you had nothing to protect yourself with and no knowledge of how to in the first place. 

The two of you went back and forth about it for at least an hour. He made the case that it was a one time incident that would never happen again, and argued that nothing was ever going to happen to you in the first place anyway because he showed up to take care of it. You argued back that Frank wouldn’t be by your side twenty-four seven anymore and would eventually be assigned to someone else, possibly taking him far away for extended periods of time.

In the end, you wore him down like you usually did until he gave in and you got your way.

Frank took in the impatient and stubborn expression covering your features, the one he had become all too familiar with and grown to adore. You were a force to be reckoned with when you wanted something, just as much as he was. Even though he didn’t want you to ever have a reason to use a gun, he would rather know you were safe and could handle yourself in his absence if it came down to it. 

“Alright, alright. Wipe that pout off your face and c’mere.”

Doing your best to conceal your tiny smile of victory, you went to stand in front of Frank, but he held his large hand out to stop you and motioned for you to move back a little.

“Keep your distance, okay? You don’t wanna be too close. Now, step one.”

Frank reached out to grab your wrist and brought your hand up towards the barrel of the gun, placing his large hand on top of your own and squeezing gently to signal for you to grab onto it. Once he felt your tight grip on the barrel, he slid his hand over to grab onto your forearm and pushed against it, which caused the gun in his right hand to shift directions. It was no longer aimed at you, but pointed at the wall to your left.

“You wanna take the gun offline, yeah? Look.”

Glancing up at him briefly, you nodded to show him that you were paying attention. When he pulled your arm back in the position it was before, aiming the gun at you once again, you quickly redirected your focus back to his large hands. To reiterate what he was trying to explain to you, Frank repeated his demonstration two more times to make sure you understood.

“Offline, right? Offline, right? And push hard, as hard as you can.”

While Frank’s eyes were locked on you as he demonstrated the first step, you were studying his movements, committing every detail to memory. It seemed simple enough in theory so far. Keep your distance, grab the barrel of the gun, and push it away from yourself hard. When he let go of your arm, you let go of the gun, and you looked up to see that Frank was already watching you.

“Show me.”

Without hesitating, you swiftly reached out to grab the barrel of the gun and forcefully pushed it to the left. Frank let you redirect it to a certain point, and then pushed back to hold the gun in place. His strength was something you couldn’t combat, and as you kept pushing at the barrel, his resistance  made the gun almost wobble in your hands. 

“Attagirl. Easy, easy. Relax.”

Frank reached out with his left hand and grabbed onto your wrist, gently squeezing it to steady your hand.

“Alright, now step two, you go for that wrist, yeah? You get control. Go.”

Immediately you reached out with your right hand to wrap your fingers around Frank’s wrist to grab onto it tightly. Giving a slight shake of his head, Frank pulled your hand off of his wrist and guided it underneath his wrist instead.

“Look, underneath, yeah? Underneath. Go for the joint. Joints are weakest.”

Everything Frank was showing you seemed so simple that it filled you with a false sense of confidence. With your right hand under his right wrist, you gripped onto the barrel tightly with your left hand and took a step back as you tried to tug it away, thinking it would spring loose. Frank let out a grunt of disapproval and pulled his right arm back, easily slipping the gun out of your grasp completely and causing you to stumble forward a bit. He had a somewhat stern look on his face as he wagged the gun in your direction twice.

“Easy, bang bang. Don’t ever pull a gun towards you. You push it away.”

Letting out a huff of annoyance as your previous overzealous confidence fizzled out, you looked up at Frank as he held his left hand out towards you to signal for you to stay in place. He wasn’t teasing you anymore like he had been earlier. This wasn't Frank that had made you strawberry pancakes and caressed your legs while they sat in his lap as the two of you shared breakfast this morning. This was Frank that nearly sent your ex to the morgue instead of prison. He was back in full protective bodyguard mode.

“Listen to me. Use your legs, get underneath, and twist. Don’t pull, twist. Yeah? C’mon, show me.”

Taking a deep breath, you gave a slight nod and went over the steps in your head. Grab the barrel of the gun, shove it away from yourself, slip your other hand under the wrist joint, and twist the gun away. Your lips faintly twitched as you silently recited the steps to yourself three times for good measure. Frank didn’t make a move to rush you. He kept his eyes on you and waited patiently until you were ready to give it a try. 

Sucking in one more deep breath, your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and you sprung into action. Taking a quick step forward, you reached out to tightly grab the barrel of the gun with your left hand, and while you pushed it away to the left, you simultaneously slipped your right hand under Frank’s wrist. Twisting the barrel of the gun forcefully to the right caused Frank’s wrist to twist with it until he was forced to let go, and in that short window of weakness you were able to pull the gun out of his hand with a hard step backwards.

Glancing down at the gun in your hands, your eyes went wide with surprise and your mouth hung open as you let out an incredulous laugh. 

“Holy shit, that actually worked!”

Frank held his hands up like you had just made a touchdown, and he started to clap as a proud tooth bearing grin stretched over his lips.

“Look at that, huh? Who got a gun, huh?”

Looking up at Frank, your lips parted into a huge grin of your own while you held it up like a trophy and spoke in a proud voice.

“I have a gun.”

“Attagirl. You’re goddamn right you do. You did good, sweetheart. Real good. Feels good, yeah?”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you let out a soft laugh while admiring the gun in your hands. Well, more so admiring the fact that you were able to actually take it from Frank. The only reason you felt comfortable holding the gun right now was because Frank had shown you the clip was empty before he started demonstrating the basics earlier. 

Pointing a loaded gun at Steven had been different. You were blinded in a fit of rage, not thinking clearly, but deep down you knew there was no way you would have actually pulled the trigger. However if you had been level headed, you probably wouldn’t have taken it from Billy, even if he offered. 

“Yeah…yeah it does.”

And it did feel good. It made you feel strong…less helpless. Frank was giving you back a sense of safety and security that had been stolen from you when you were first threatened by the Defenders of Freedom. Even if you never used this lesson, and you genuinely hoped you wouldn’t have to, you felt a surge of confidence knowing that you were at least capable of protecting yourself in some capacity. 

“Okay, step three.”

A pinch of confusion settled between your brows as you looked up at Frank when he mentioned a third step, and you noticed that he wasn’t smiling anymore. A grim look had settled over his features that sent a chill of unease down your spine.

“You just took a gun off someone that wanted to use it on you. What d’you do.”

The delight of pride had disappeared from his face and was swiftly replaced by a shadow of severity that was now coveting his sharp features, and the elated grin that was on your own lips had slowly fallen from grace. It was a rhetorical question you both knew the answer to, but you hadn’t factored in a third step. It hadn’t even crossed your mind, and Frank could see that in your eyes.

“You use it on them. Don’t matter who they are, you do not hesitate. You got that?”

Looking down at the gun in your hands, the weight of it was suddenly too heavy in your palms. Step three was a reminder that step one and two weren’t just to boost your confidence in protecting yourself; they were steps to defend yourself. Swallowing thickly, you nodded your head in silent understanding.

“Good. Show me.”

Frank’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a command, but it wasn’t a suggestion either. Placing both of your hands on the gun the way he had shown you to properly hold it, you took a deep breath, slowly raising it to aim in Frank’s direction. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that he knew the clip was empty, or that this most likely wasn’t the first time he had stared down the barrel of a gun, but he looked completely unphased. The canvas of his face was expressionless, but his eyes were what you had learned to read. Only right now, you couldn’t understand what they were trying to tell you. 

The gun trembled slightly in your grasp, as if every cell in your body knew exactly how wrong it felt to point a gun at Frank, loaded or not. The self defense lesson you wanted for a possible yet highly improbable scenario had quickly become too heavy and realistic, and you were quickly regretting even asking for it.

“Show me.”

“I’m not doing that-”

“It ain’t loaded-”

“Frank, I don’t want to-”

“What’d I say, huh? I don’t care who it is, you do not hesitate. Ever. Now, show me you understand.”

Frank’s tone was a little more forceful, but the volume of it was still even and somewhat soft. You knew there were no repercussions if you didn’t pull the trigger. He had learned early on that he couldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to, and you trusted him enough to know that he would never try to force you. Frank never demanded anything of you, he always asked.

But you had asked for this, and he wanted you to follow through with it.

Clenching your jaw, you let out a shaky exhale through your nose, and you slowly squeezed the trigger like he had taught you to yesterday when you were out in the woods using cans as target practice. The click that sounded caused you to flinch, and it seemed to echo loudly in the living room. Frank on the other hand didn’t visibly react to it at all.

Without another word, you placed the gun down onto the coffee table a little too forcefully and headed towards the back door, wanting to put as much distance between it and yourself as possible. Frank caught your wrist before you could get too far and gently tugged you back towards himself.

“Hey-”

“I’m going for a walk.”

“No, you ain’t. You ain’t runnin’ away, you’re gonna stay here and talk to me. We ain’t doin’ that not communicatin’ shit. Why are you upset?”

“I told you I didn’t want to do that-”

“You asked me to teach you. I said no, but you kept on beggin’. What did you think this was gonna be, huh? You think you get a gun off someone, and it ends there? No. As soon as you get control and take it, you use it. No negotiatin’, no questionin’ it, you do it-”

“And what if I can’t, Frank?”

The distress in your voice made him pause and clench his jaw. He could see that you were visibly upset, and for a moment he wondered if he was being too hard on you. You said it yourself, this was not your area of expertise. It was his. Frank had years of professional training under his belt. Pulling a trigger was something he didn’t even have to think twice about. It was an automatic response. The aftermath of what followed didn’t even make him bat an eye. There were always casualties in war. 

But you weren’t a soldier, and having to actually pull the trigger on someone would be something that haunted you for the rest of your life if it came down to it.

Letting out a deep exhale through his large nose, Frank stepped forward and wrapped one of his arms around your waist to pull you into his embrace while using his other hand to slip his fingers gently into your hair to brush it back before cradling your face in his right hand.

“Listen to me. If it comes down to you, or someone else, you do whatever you gotta do to save yourself, you got that?”

The rational part of your brain knew that Frank was right. If you had taken a gun from Cavella or Walker, you would’ve had to shoot them. There’s no way they wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to kill you if they had it. But the emotional part of your brain was struggling to figure out if you could handle the consequences of taking someone’s life, justified or not. Frank could see the internal conflict in your eyes, and he lightly brushed the calloused pad of his thumb along your cheekbone as the rough timbre of his voice broke the tense silence.

“Hey, no one’s sayin’ you gotta shoot ‘em point blank, alright? I’ve seen your aim, and it ain’t all that great anyway. You’d be lucky to scare ‘em off with firin’ a terrible shot just so you could get away.”

Rolling your eyes at his comment, you let out a dry laugh. As much as you wanted to be annoyed, he was right. You were terrible. You didn’t hit a single can yesterday, even at close range. You did manage to scare the shit out of some crows in a tree though.

“You are such an ass.”

The edge of Frank’s mouth twitched up into a light smirk while giving your waist a gentle squeeze.

“And you’re cute thinkin’ you could actually do some damage. I know a blind guy that can hit targets better than you. Look, you gotta stop gettin’ upset ‘bout things that might not even happen, alright? If it ever comes down to it, remember that you’re the one controllin’ the gun, yeah? It ain’t controllin’ you. Wherever you aim, the bullet’s gonna go. You can shoot ‘em in the leg, foot, shoulder, hell shoot ‘em in the dick for all I care. That’ll keep ‘em down for a while. You just promise me you’ll pull that trigger. You get ‘em down however you want, and then you get the hell outta there. That’s all you gotta do, yeah?”

Frank dipped his head to catch your eyes, staring intently into them. Letting out a deep breath, you bit down on your bottom lip and nodded while placing your hands on Frank’s biceps. You could do that. Injuring someone just to get away was a lot more manageable for your conscience. Frank lightly grasped your jaw in his large hand, his bottom three fingers wrapping around your throat while his index finger and thumb held your jaw. He tipped your head back so that you had no choice but to look up at him.

“Lemme hear you say it.”

Staring up into his warm brown eyes, you gazed up at him silently for a moment before speaking.

“No hesitating. I promise.”

“Attagirl. C’mere.”

Frank leaned in to capture your lips in a soft and sweet kiss. Sometimes it amazed you how easily he was able to talk you down from the ledge. Frank was a man of few words, but he somehow always knew exactly which ones to say to ease whatever anxieties were weighing on your mind. And the distraction of his plush lips against yours also certainly helped.

Ever since the other night by the fireplace, every kiss between the two of you that started out soft and sweet had a way of evolving into something more passionate and insatiable. Maybe it was the months of denying your feelings for one another, or maybe there was just some magnetic pull between your souls, but whatever it was, neither of you could get enough.

Before you could even register that you were moving, Frank was lifting you up by your hips and setting you down on the dining table, his hungry kisses leaving a searing path along your jawline and down the column of your neck.

“Did good today, sweetheart. Did real goddamn good, made me so proud.”

Frank’s gravely songs of praise in your ear only further ignited the flame of desire that was burning in your lower belly. Despite the warmth of his large palm touching your bare skin as he slipped it underneath your shirt to caress your lower back, a shiver teasingly tumbled down your spine from the contact.

“I had a good teacher.”

“Nah, I think you’re just a natural, baby.”

“I thought I had terrible aim?”

“Didn’t say you were perfect. Everybody’s got their strengths and weaknesses.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you could feel the rumble of Frank’s deep chuckle vibrating in his chest that was pressed against yours.

“Wow, you really know how to sweep a girl off her feet, Castle.”

Frank pulled back slightly to look down at you, his eyes traveling over your figure to drink in the sight of you sitting on the edge of the dining table before they slowly wandered back up to meet your gaze. He arched one of his thick brows as a smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Yours are currently danglin’, sweetheart.”

Before you could retort with a smartass comment of your own, Frank’s mouth was back on your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin. Feeling his tongue gliding along your collarbone and giving it a delectable love bite, you closed your eyes and let your head fall back, granting Frank all the access he wanted to your skin.

The feeling of his lips on your neck was so heavenly you almost didn’t notice that he had popped the button on your jeans and tugged down your zipper until he was lifting you up slightly with one arm around your waist and pulling the denim down your hips with his free hand. As soon as your jeans were completely off, your own hands were reaching for Frank’s belt buckle, but he grasped your wrists and halted your attempt. A soft noise of protest quickly slipped past your lips.

“Frank-”

“Shh shh shh. Spread your legs for me, baby.”

A rush of heat pooled in your cheeks at his request, but you obliged immediately. Frank leaned in to kiss you deeply, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip and nipping at it softly while his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your panties and slipped them off too slowly for your liking. The sudden contact of the crisp autumn air coming in through the open windows hitting your slicked folds had you gasping, and Frank used that to his advantage by slipping his tongue into your mouth to caress your own sensually. 

“Spread ‘em wider for me, sweetheart. C’mon.”

Frank’s deep voice was quiet, but it nestled in your ears as comfortably as it did between your thighs. He pulled you a little more towards the edge of the dining table, and when you spread your legs further for him, he sank down to his knees in front of you and let out a low groan of appreciation at the sight waiting for him. 

“Attagirl, that’s it. God, look at you. You should see how fuckin’ pretty you look right now, baby.”

His large hands gripped onto your soft thighs, kneading and squeezing your flesh with his thick fingers. Frank didn’t waste a second before diving into your cunt face first. As soon as his warm and wet tongue began to strum your clit like chords to his favorite song, your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head. He brought your legs over his broad shoulders, burying his face so deep into your core, you weren’t sure how he was breathing.

Your hand quickly found a fistful of his slightly grown out hair that you gripped onto to steady yourself, and when you gave it an experimental tug, the vibration of his groan against your clit had your thighs trembling more than any toy you had ever gotten for yourself before.

“Fuck…Frank…”

Frank let out a loud grunt as he pulled back for just a moment to stare at your glistening pussy almost in awe, his hooded eyes briefly meeting your own for a second before focusing back on the display of your desire for him.

“Taste so good sweetheart, so fuckin’ good. You got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

He dove right back in, this time slipping his tongue inside of you to explore while using his large nose to bump against your clit repeatedly. The stimulation had your back arching off the dining table and a loud moan echoed throughout the cabin. Tugging harder at his dark roots, you pushed your hips up against his face, desperately and greedily searching for more. None of your exes had ever eaten you out like this before. Most of them didn’t even know what the fuck they were doing, and the rest gave up after a few minutes because it “took too long”, but still expected you to suck them off until your jaw ached.

But Frank…God, Frank knew what he was doing. His thick fingers were digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, following your hips wherever they went. The groans that continued to vibrate against your clit not only turned you on because of their stimulation, but because you could tell that Frank was genuinely enjoying eating your pussy. The fact that he was getting just as much pleasure out of it as you were had you on the brink of an orgasm alone. Frank had a way of making every experience feel brand new, and it made you realize just how much you had been missing out on in your previous relationships.

That familiar bubbly feeling was building up inside of you, cresting slowly like a tidal wave ready to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting beach. Your breaths were coming out in short staccato variations, and at this point you were roughy tugging at Frank’s hair with both hands while essentially fucking his face. Not that he seemed to mind at all. If anything, it just seemed to make him more feral.

“Yesyesyesyes…please-fuck, Frank…I…I…”

Frank pulled you even closer towards the edge of the dining table to where your ass was basically hanging off of it, and the jolt of his large palm smacking against your ass was the only indication you got that he understood what you were trying to tell him.

You thought you had more time, but your climax suddenly crashed into you without further warning, and your hips were stuttering as Frank continued his incessant assault on your pussy with his tongue. It seemed like he didn’t want to let a drop of your essence go to waste, and while you appreciated his enthusiasm, the way he was flicking his tongue rapidly against your overstimulated clit was riding that very thin line between pain and pleasure, and you were weakly shoving at his broad shoulders.

“Okay okay okay…Frank…fuck, please! Just…give me a second, God-”

Frank dragged his tongue up your entire pussy from your entrance to your clit one last time before granting you mercy with a low growl. While you panted heavily laying back against the dining room table, he was pressing featherlight kisses to each of your inner thighs, but due to your body feeling like a live wire, they felt like faint shocks that had your body jolting every time his wet lips met your heated skin. He chuckled deeply watching you respond to his touch.

“You alright there, sweetheart?”

Lifting your hand, you gave him a weak thumbs up, and Frank just laughed even louder in amusement at that. The sound of his laughter combined with your own blissed out post orgasm state had a lazy grin stretching over your lips. You felt his large and rough hands slipping underneath your shirt, gently caressing your bare skin and grabbing your waist while he leaned over you, kissing your lips deeply. The taste of your own sweet tang on Frank’s tongue had your head spinning, and a soft hum sounded in the back of your throat.  Even though you were still recovering from your first ever oral orgasm, the feeling of Frank’s hard cock straining against his jeans and rubbing against your inner thigh reignited your greed.

Brushing your hand slowly down his chest, you palmed him firmly through his jeans, and Frank let out a grunt while pushing himself further against your hand. He broke the kiss momentarily to nuzzle his large nose against your throat.

“If ya need a minute-”

“No. Now.”

While you unfastened his belt in record time, Frank placed his hands on the table on either side of your head and pulled back to look down at you with a soft chuckle at your impatience. He lightly cocked his head to the side, his brown eyes darkened with lust as they roamed over you shamelessly. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and a crooked smirk caressed his mouth.

“Anybody ever tell you what an impatient lil thing you are?”

A smirk of your own tugged across your lips while you slipped your hand into his jeans, stroking his thick cock through his briefs, earning a quiet grunt from Frank.

“Apart from you every day since we met? Maybe a few other people. Is my lack of patience really what you wanna talk about right now, big guy?”

The sultry tone of your voice did not go unnoticed by Frank, and in fact, it only made his cock swell even more in your welcoming hand. He slowly moved his hips back and forth as you teasingly stroked him and leaned down closer towards you, nuzzling his nose along your throat before whispering huskily into your ear.

“Got somethin’ better in mind.”

By the time Frank had carried you down the hall to the master bedroom, the two of you had left a trail of forgotten items of clothing strewn like breadcrumbs along the path from the kitchen. He let you push him back against the mattress and grabbed your hips to pull you on top of him, his lips moving in sync with your own, but when you felt the swollen head of his cock bump against your clit, you suddenly pressed your palms firmly against his chest and pulled back while breaking the kiss.

“Wait.”

Frank immediately paused, loosening his grip on your hips, his lust clouded eyes clearing a bit while searching your own and wandering over your figure for the source of the problem.

“What? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

The concern in his rough timbre combined with the worry in his soft brown eyes made your heart melt. A gentle smile covered your lips while you reached out to delicately hold his strong jaw in your hands, and you leaned in to kiss his lips softly.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t think it’s fair you get to have all the fun.”

Frank’s apprehension morphed into confusion, and a few creases nestled between his thick brows. 

“Huh?”

Letting out a soft laugh at how adorable he looked when he was confused, you decided to explain with actions instead of words. When you moved backwards off his lap to settle between his legs, Frank raised himself up on his elbows, following you with his eyes as he watched you intently. 

“What are you-holy shit.”

Frank’s jaw went slack the second you leaned in and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around it once before beginning to take a few inches into your mouth. Placing one of your hands on his left hip, you teasingly moved your lips up his length until he was out of your mouth with a satisfying pop. Pursing your lips, you let a string of glistening saliva slowly drop onto his tip and used your free hand to spread it down the rest of his thick cock for lubrication, and after wrapping your fingers around his girth, you began to twist your wrist up and down slowly. 

You could feel how tense he was through your hold on his hip. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you noticed that he was staring directly at you, completely mesmerized, and was gripping onto the sheets so tightly you thought he might rip them. Moving your hand from his hip, you reached out to caress his hand, and he slowly loosened his grip, his knuckles no longer stark white. His plush lips were parted, and he was breathing hard, his thick brows knit in complete focus. You allowed him to slip out of your mouth for just a moment to smile softly up at Frank.

“Just relax.”

The sweet sound of your voice seemed to reach his ears, and after a few more moments of hesitation, Frank finally laid back against the mattress and let his head rest on the pillows. He moved the hand that was underneath yours to grab your wrist, turning your hand over so he could slot his fingers between yours to hold it. His other hand slowly came over to card his fingers through your hair before cradling the back of your head. Giving his hand that you were holding a light squeeze, you continued to hold eye contact with Frank while slowly sucking him off, using your hand that was around his base to work over what wouldn’t fit in your mouth.

The sound of his quiet grunts and low moans sent a thrill through you, and you wanted to know just how vocal he could get. Letting go of his hand, you placed both of your palms firmly on his hips and relaxed your jaw completely, taking his entire cock into your mouth until his tip hit the back of your throat. A guttural groan ripped from the depth of his chest and his lower abdomen instantly tensed up as he gripped onto your hair.

“Goddamn-fuck…fuck, sweetheart. Do…do that again. Please…please baby, do it again.”

Taking in a deep inhale through your nose, you prepared yourself to deepthroat Frank’s thick cock again, and this time you held him there until your eyes started to water. He let out a louder moan of your name, and that caused the throbbing between your thighs to evolve from dull to downright unbearable. You thought about sneaking your hand downwards to get a little relief, but Frank had been so unselfish when he ate you out, only focused on your pleasure, and he deserved that same treatment. 

All of a sudden, Frank roughly tugged at your hair, and that made you moan around his cock. You heard him let out a quiet fuck under his breath in response. He gave your hair another tug to get your attention, and his cock slipped from your lips as you licked them and tried to catch your breath while staring at him, noticing that he had sat up.

“C’mere.”

He didn’t give you a chance to protest before he grabbed your throat and pulled you in close to kiss you fervently. Frank’s large and rough hands grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap again, and you let out a soft whine against his lips when the head of his cock rubbed against your sensitive clit. 

“Frank, I didn’t get to finish-”

“As much as I’d love to come down that pretty throat, I need ya baby. Need ya now.”

Grabbing the base of his cock, Frank positioned himself perfectly with your entrance and pulled you down slowly, letting you feel every single inch of him. Your mouth hung open at the sensation, and your body instantly tensed up. You thought Frank had been deep the other night, but he was reaching an even greater depth inside of you right now if that was possible. There was a slight burn as your walls stretched to accommodate his size, but your brain barely even registered it, because Frank was slipping his tongue into your mouth and kissing you sensually as if he wanted to steal the very essence of life from your lungs. 

Once he was fully nestled deep inside of you, a high pitched cry left your mouth, and he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly.

“Shh…s’alright. Just relax for me, sweetheart.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you clung to Frank as he wrapped both of his strong arms around your waist and held you tightly against his chest. Both of you sat there for a moment, your foreheads pressed together as you panted. He rubbed his large calloused hand up and down your spine soothingly, his teeth grazing along your ear lobe and biting down gently to distract you from any discomfort. Slowly, the tension in your body melted, and you gave an experimental roll of your hips that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“That’s it…attagirl. Take your time, sweetheart. M’right here. I got you.”

This felt right. It felt…perfect. Those three little words almost slipped out right there. Grabbing onto the back of his neck, you pulled Frank in for a passionate kiss, trying to pour every ounce of emotion you felt into it. He groaned quietly against your lips when your nails lightly scratched at the back of his head where his hair was shaved closely to his scalp. Moving your hips in slow circles, you grinded down onto Frank’s cock, and he flexed his hips upwards to match your rhythm. The other night by the fireplace had been the best experience of your life, but this…this was something you couldn’t put into words.

Placing your palms against Frank’s firm chest, you pressed lightly and he followed your silent instructions, allowing you to push him onto his back. His large hands gripped firmly onto your hips as he gazed up at you, and you kept your palms flat on his chest while slowly riding his cock. Neither of you could tear your eyes away from each other. The feeling of his warm hands leisurely moving up your bare skin made you shiver, and a soft gasp left your lips when he groped your breasts and squeezed gently. The calloused pad of his thumb gingerly brushing over your peaked nipple had you arching your back, pressing your chest further into his eager hands.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

The sincerity in Frank’s vulnerable whisper nearly brought tears to your eyes. He wasn’t saying it because he thought it was what you wanted to hear, he was saying it because he felt it, and he was making you feel it too. The way he was staring up at you like you were the only thing that mattered had your heart swelling inside your ribcage like a balloon about to burst. It had been a long time since you mattered to someone, and you felt lucky it was Frank. The look in his eyes was almost too much to handle.

Letting your head fall back, you closed your eyes for a moment as you writhed on top of Frank, getting completely lost in how good it felt to be connected to him in such a raw and intimate way. One of his hands traveled up from your breast towards your throat, and he wrapped his fingers tightly around it almost entirely, forcing you to face him again. He pulled you down over him so that your forehead was pressed to his, and the two of you stared deeply into each other's eyes. 

“Frank-”

“I wanna see you. Wanna see those pretty eyes when you come for me. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Being this close to him, you noticed for the first time that there were scattered flecks of honey in his deep brown eyes. They looked so warm and inviting, like two melted pools of chocolate you wanted to drown in. The eyes that could say so much with a single look. You thought you could see it…that flicker that he felt it too. You wanted to tell him so fucking badly, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment, and the way he was hitting that spongy spot inside of you that could cause supernovas to appear behind your eyelids was making it hard for you to speak at all.

Holding his face in your hand, your eyes drifted back and forth between his own as you stared down at him in complete devotion, your lips parted as you nodded your head frantically while short and breathy moans escaped you. Frank’s eyes were focused solely on you, one of his hands holding the back of your head while his other remained around your throat. It was getting harder and harder for you to keep your eyes open, but you didn’t want to miss a single second of this moment.

It was also getting harder and harder to not voice the sentiment that was overflowing from your ribcage.

“Frank…I…I-”

Frank cut off your words by capturing your lips in a heated kiss. The softness of his lips against yours, the heat of his bare skin pressed to your own, his thick fingers wrapped around your neck and tangled in your hair, his pubic bone rubbing just right against your clit…it was all too much. Breaking the kiss, you buried your face into the crook of his neck and let out a sharp cry of his name. Your nails raked harshly down his chest when your climax finally peaked, and a white hot cloud of hedonistic desire blinded your vision. 

Your entire body seized up, and you could faintly hear Frank whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he gripped your hips and repeatedly thrust up into you, fucking you through your orgasm while barreling towards his own. The sensation of that alone was enough to nearly send you free falling into another. The intensity of your orgasm had rendered you an incoherent and moaning mess. Frank dug his fingers roughly into the flesh of your hips and came with a deep grunt that nearly sounded like a growl, letting out a loud groan of your name.

The room felt like a sauna. Your face felt overheated, and your hair was stuck to your cheeks and the back of your neck with sweat. Frank had his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, hugging you against his chest. The feeling of his strong heartbeat thundering against your own chest kept you anchored to the moment while your body trembled with aftershocks. You couldn’t move, and you didn’t want to.

As soon as Frank made a move to sit up and pull out of you, a desperate and high pitched whine of protest fell from your lips while you gripped onto his shoulder and dug your nails into the muscle.

“No no no no no, please…don’t move.”

Frank instantly stilled, bringing one of his hands up to brush the sweaty hair stuck to your forehead and neck away. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead and gave your body a gentle squeeze in his strong arms.

“Okay, we don’t gotta move yet.”

Letting out a soft sigh of relief, you buried your face further into Frank’s neck, letting the comforting scent of his cologne calm you. He gently carded his thick fingers through your hair and kept holding you tightly to his chest while resting his head against your own.

“I just wanna stay like this for a while.”

“We can stay like this as long as you want, sweetheart.”

When you started to regain your senses, you started to wonder just how true that statement was. 

How long could you and Frank stay like this before reality came knocking?

Your home wouldn’t always be a crime scene. Eventually the two of you would have to go back to work. Now that everything had changed between the two of you, what would a new normal look like? Frank’s job required him to be with someone constantly. What happens when he gets assigned to someone else? What if it’s another woman? Even though Frank was broody and unapproachable initially, you had still found him attractive, and all the time you spent together over the past few months led you right here to this moment.

What if that happened with someone else? What if the next woman he was assigned to found him just as attractive? What if she wanted him? You and Frank hadn’t really established what this was between the two of you. Were you together? Did he want to be together? Would he still want to be together if the next woman was prettier and less stubborn and actually-

“Quit it.”

The sound of his deep voice breaking through the silence interrupted your spiraling. 

“What?”

“Whatever you’re overthinkin’ right now, let it go.”

Removing your face from the crook of Frank’s neck, you pulled back slightly to peer down at him in pure curiosity.

“How do you even-”

“I can practically hear the gears turnin’ in your head, sweetheart. You keep thinkin’ so hard, smoke’s gonna start comin’ out of your ears.”

Giving him a pointed look expressing you weren’t amused, he let out a quiet chuckle and gently brushed the calloused pad of his thumb along your cheekbone.

“C’mon, you ain’t got nothin’ to worry ‘bout right now. Just relax, yeah?”

Letting out a soft sigh, you nodded and laid your head back against Frank’s shoulder, nuzzling your nose against his neck as he hugged onto you tightly. For a while, you two laid there wrapped up in one another, and you were able to let some of your anxieties go. The afterglow of your shared euphoria was peaceful, and you could’ve even fallen asleep at that moment, but something Frank said earlier suddenly popped back into your head. 

“Hey Frank?”

“Hm?”

“Do you really know a blind guy that has a good aim with guns?”

Frank let out a quiet snicker at your question.

“He don’t use guns. He’s too…Catholic.”

That did nothing to answer your question and only fueled you with more inquiries.

“But…you said he could hit targets better than I could.”

Frank simply grunted in response. You stayed silent waiting for further explanation, but when one didn’t come, you continued your questions.

“How?”

“Hell if I know.”

Sitting up a little bit again, you stared down at Frank in complete puzzlement.

“But…he’s blind. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No it don’t.”

“So…he’s-”

“An asshole. Go to sleep.”

Letting out a soft laugh, your eyes widened slightly as you gently smacked his chest.

“Frank!”

“What? Cause he’s blind he can’t be an asshole?”

“Well…no. But…how does he do it?”

“You’ll have to ask ‘em yourself.”

“I thought Billy was your only friend.”

Frank pulled a look of faux offense at that, his thick brows knit as he let out a puff of air through his lips.

“Ouch. I got other friends, smartass. And I never said he was one. He’s more of a pain in my ass.”

Frank gently pinched your ass which made you squeal before erupting into a fit of laughter.

“Hey!”

A huge grin split across your lips as he suddenly flipped you both over, managing to keep himself nestled inside of you while he pinned you beneath his large body. As he leaned in to kiss your lips, you brought your index finger up and pressed it against his mouth.

“I’m not done. I have more questions.”

“Course you do.”

“I wanna know who this mystery blind man is with good aim, and your other friends that you suddenly have that you’ve kept from me. While you’re at it, is there anything else you’re hiding, Castle?”

While your question was intended to be teasing, a dark look flashed across Frank’s eyes, and it made your breath hitch in your throat. He stared down at you silently for a moment, and it made you wonder just how much more there was to Frank that you hadn’t uncovered yet. As soon as you removed your finger from his lips, Frank leaned in closer, caging you in with his large hands on either side of your head. As he loomed over you, he slowly thrust his hips against your own, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. His breath was warm against your lips while he nuzzled his large nose along your own, his rough voice coming out in a husky whisper.

“Think I liked you better when the only thing you could say was my name, sweetheart.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[agirlcandream84]

Boyfriend!Frank is NOT Pleased With Your Choice to Diet.

Girlies -- just read and be healed. Trust me.

Boyfriend!Frank x Reader

Word Count: 1,370

“Eat,” he says, sliding the burger and fries in front of you on the table.

“That’s it? You’re not gonna, like, scold me about it?” you ask.

“That’s it. Eat,” he replies and slides into the booth across from you.

And so you did, glancing at him tentatively every few minutes, the meal quietly tense. But you'll be damned if he wasn't right. The burger coated your ribs, it's protein-packed patty satisfying you so thoroughly that your headache instantly dissipated and your blood sugar evened out. With every bite you feel your energy restored, your stomach nearly like a bottomless pit.

Near bursting, you push the plate a fews inches away from you and lean back, taking a final sip of your icy Coke. Frank has been done for a few minutes, always just inhaling food quickly and quietly, and has his arms folded across his chest, his huge form smashed into a tiny booth, as he observes you.

You meet his eyes and will yourself not to look away from his glare.

"Don't" you say to him. He shrugs his hulky shoulders, his lips pressed into a straight line, his eyes still locked to yours.

"Because you don't know how it is. I'm trying my best, ok?" you add, now growing more alarmed at his silence than his presumed scolding. His face remains unreadable, the tendons in his forearms flexing as he repositions himself in the booth slightly.

"And by the way its not that serious. Trust me, I eat plenty. That's sorta the whole problem" you continue, almost willing his angry rant to just come already. His eye contact is unflinching, even as a fork clatters to the ground from a nearby table.

"It's not like it was on purpose. I just didn't plan right." you explain, your mouth just yammering in the silence. Your fingers fiddle with the napkin as you roll it into a tight coil. At his silence, you roll your eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

And it's true. You didn't plan to wait too long too eat and give yourself a pounding headache. You didn't plan to wait 7 hours between two hard boiled eggs and your next meal. You didn't plan to nearly pass out at the store.

But the other part, the part Frank is actually mad about, you did plan. You did plan your incredibly calorie-restrictive diet-- the one that's barely enough food for a toddler. You did plan to basically starve yourself for about 4 weeks to fit into the dress you bought for that wedding. You did plan to hate your fucking body so much that you were willing to neglect it and starve in the name of being smaller. Existing less.

And so when you attempted to order a side salad for a whole-ass meal, after very nearly passing out at the store alongside Frank, after not eating more than 2 eggs in 7 hours, after being nearly in tears from the headache tearing through your skull, after complaining the Advil you took on an empty stomach was making you nauseous, Frank was... displeased.

He'd immediately grumbled a "Nah, fuck that, no fucking salads" and you'd looked at him with your mouth agape, beginning to interject but he'd stopped you with "Non-negotiable. Go sit in the fucking booth sweetheart and you'll eat what I order you." You blinked incredulously before grabbing your purse and storming to the booth, sliding in with a huff.

One cheeseburger and a large fries later and you assumed you were in for it. You prepared yourself for the Frank ranting that didn't come.

"You done?" he asks plainly, his face unimpressed with your excuses.

"Yeah I'm done," you reply petulantly, feeling like a teenager having a tantrum.

Frank stuffs his keys in his pocket and grabs the greasy bag to toss in the trash. You scramble out of the booth to follow him back to the car, Frank holding the door open for you to exit and opening your car door while you climbed in. The ride home mimics the meal, tense silence as Frank stares ahead with squinted eyes.

As you arrive home, Frank puts the car in park and you waste no time hopping out the passenger door and towards the apartment complex, eager to slither out of the awkward silence. Despite the tension, Frank is still a gentleman, reaching for the grocery bags you were attempting to haul from the trunk, murmuring "I got it sweetheart," and sending you into the building.

Shortly after Frank places the bags on the counter, you reach to begin unloading the groceries but Frank's hand lands on yours, stopping you before he laces one hand around your waist and the other cupping your jaw, his wrist shifting slightly to tilt your face up towards his before he envelops you in a kiss so tender that you nearly lose your breath. He's slow, deliberate-- his lips grazing yours before you feel the firm press of him as his tongue twines around yours. You allow yourself to melt into his hold, his fingers traveling into the hair at the nape of your neck.

When he stops, you steady your breathing, his face still inches from yours, and ask, "Frank, what are you doing?" You didn't object to his affection but his tenderness was unexpected.

"Apologizing," he responds, his hand still cradling your head.

"Apologizing?" you stutter out, an apology the last thing you expected.

"Yeah. Apologizing," he confirms, brushing his thumb along your jaw. "Way I see it, if I ever gave you the impression that I didn't love your body exactly the way it is, that's on me," he adds.

"Frank it's not--" you start but he interrupts with "Lemme finish sweetheart. I'm not doing my job if you don't feel fuckin' gorgeous every day. Fuck sweetheart, I think about you all damn day. I dream about you and you're layin' right next to me for God's sake. And if you don't know that, I fucked up," he adds, his sincerity enough to nearly break your heart. You feel his hand squeeze your waist.

"Frank, its... you're not," you start, stumbling over your words, the topic so complicated and loaded. You take a deep breath and start again, "The way I feel about my body is the sum of years and years of feeling inadequate and social pressure and unkind words from people who were supposed to love me. You have healed me in so many ways Frank. But this wound is deep. Sometimes it reopens."

"S'my job to take care of you though sweetheart" Frank replies, ever the protector. He could take fix anything, he was certain, at least that's what he told himself. Surely he could fix this. He would just love you harder and louder.

"Frankie you do," you reassure him, standing on tip toes to kiss him again. He reciprocates, again tugging you closer and kissing you in a way that felt like he was trying to heal you. When he pulls away again, his brows have returned to their natural furrow and you know he's got something else on his mind.

"Ok out with it," you prompt him, still locked in his arms and trapped between him and the counter.

"Yeah, the other thing is sweetheart, I don't like when someone treats my girl bad. Even when you're doin' it to yourself," he states plainly, the scolding you expected finally coming to fruition.

"I told you, I wasn't try--"

"Nah, nah. I don't want the excuses doll. You're starvin' yourself," he retorts. You can't quite manage to look him in eye at the accusation. He isn't entirely wrong. In fact he's entirely right. That was sorta the whole idea.

"Yeah, so you gotta cut that shit out. You deserve to eat food when you're hungry. Don't make ask it again and you sure as hell better make sure I don't catch ya' doing it," he adds, his word on the topic final. You nod, feeling near instant relief at the thought of not dieting. You had been miserable for weeks.

"Unfortunately, you gotta learn a lesson though honey," he says with a smack to your ass as he hoists you over his shoulder and stomps to the bedroom.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

hope you having a good day/night 💘

frank having a wet dream (i’m not a native speaker i’m not sure if it’s called this, i’m sorry) about reader and when it’s just about to endddd….reader wakes him up cos obviously he was grunting, sweating and moving a lot in his sleep so she thought he was having a nightmare and she’s worried about him…(my horny brain just died here so i’m leaving the rest of it to you)

a/n: this maaaaaaaannnn 🫠

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“Frank? Baby, wake up,” your sprawled-out fingers gently swept over his broad shoulder, “it’s okay, it’s just a nightmare.”

On a sharp intake of oxygen, Frank stirred from his slumber. Blinking open his dark eyes to see you staring back at him, your cheek smooshed against your pillow, only a second passed before his touch slid up to the sides of your face as he longingly let his forehead melt against your own. 

“Wow,” you uttered softly as he crawled closer, “are you okay?” 

“Mhm,” he hummed gravelly before crashing his lips against yours. 

Out of pure surprise, a palm came up to press against his chest as you grasped the first sliver of a break to tilt your head back enough to search his eyes in the low moonlight, “Frank?”

“It wasn’t a nightmare,” his thumb brushed across your cheekbone as his gaze all but ate you up. 

“Frank, you don’t have to act all tough around me, you know that–,” but the rest of your sentence fell from your lips as he rolled on top of you and the palpable tent in his boxers pressed against your thigh, “oh…” heat swiftly began to rise in your cheeks, “not a nightmare, got it,” a small chuckle bubbled out of you, “I guess I’m sorry then for waking you up.”

“It’s alright,” he dipped down to press a kiss to your jaw, “dreams are fun and all,” his pecks slowly began to migrate further south, “but I’d much rather have the real deal,” holding onto the covers that draped over you both, he flashed you a small smirk before his head disappeared beneath it.

“Frank…” you let out a laugh as he moved down your body, caressing your curves before his head settled between your soft thighs, “was it about me?” you held the top of the duvet up for you to see him, “did you have a sex dream about me?”

Cocking his head, he said, “why do you sound so surprised?” and pressed a hot kiss to the very top of your inner thigh, “they’re always about you.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

ee congrats. What about a blurb or headcanons, whichever u want i suppose, of fake dating with Frank Castle having to infiltrate something or another? ^_^

Faking It.

frank castle x female reader

warnings - cursing. allusions to sex.

written for my 5k celebration - post here, masterlist here, inbox here.

He’s got his hand on your ass.

Sure, the two of you are playing a couple, undercover in a Mr & Mrs Smith style mission. But surely there’s a thousand other places he could put his hand.

You look at him with a scowl on your face and he winks, all cheeky and boyish. Heat crawls its way up your skin, and you beg yourself to calm down. It’s fake. It’s all pretend.

When you enter the ballroom of the gala, it’s packed with people. Frank winds a hand around the back of your neck, steering you in the right direction. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

You’re laughing and playing fake niceties to an old couple at the bar. They’re telling you how beautifully in love you look, and all you can do is rest your head on Frank’s shoulder and sigh wistfully as they coo. He pulls you into him with a hand on your ass, and you resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs. He knows he’s riling you up. That’s why he’s doing it.

It’s becoming a game, now. Who can wind the other person up more.

Frank is sat on a fancy leather couch, sweet talking a middle aged woman in a long purple dress. You approach, and take the spot right on his lap, wiggling your hips to get comfortable. He hisses in your ear, fake smile still on his face, and the satisfaction you feel is unparalleled.

You’re out in the hallway coming up with a plan when two men walk past, eyeing you suspiciously. You do what any logical woman would do - smash your lips to Franks and hope he doesn’t question it. He kisses you back with much more passion than necessary, one hand around your neck and the other one on your stomach, pushing you backwards into the wall. You bite his lip as hard as you can and he groans, all deep and pretty, and you’re starting to think this plan has backfired massively.

“Damn, girl.”

“Had to think on my feet.”

“Don’t think your feet were the body part you were thinkin’ with.”

You punch his arm as hard as you can, laughing when he grabs it in pain.

“Let’s get that fucking info and get out of here. I’m sick of everyone telling me how handsome my husband is.”

“He is though, isn’t he?” he teases as he grabs your hand, walking back into the crowds of people unaware of your scheme.

Your fingers stay intertwined for the rest of the evening. He squeezes every now and again, once or twice, and you figure out the code pretty quickly. It’s a silent communication, and it works. In no time, you’ve got what you needed, slipping out of the front door and down the huge winding driveway.

You snatch your hand away, and smack his ass as hard as you physically can.

“What the fuck was that for?”

“Revenge. You grabbed my ass way more than necessary tonight.”

He laughs, and you hate the way it makes you smile.

“Good kiss, by the way.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re a good kisser. Even if you did draw blood.”

“I’m about to draw a lot fuckin’ more if you don’t shut up, Frank.”

He chuckles, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Might suggest we play a couple every time we go undercover. This is kinda fun.”

[sinsandsweetness]

thinking about living across the hall from Frank…

-> always running into him at the most random times. in the elevator or the lovey super late at night or bright and early in the morning. When he’s on his way to a job and you’re coming back from work. Or you’re on your way to study at the library and he’s got his keys and a bag of groceries in his hands. Always giving you a little nod of acknowledgment but neither of you ever have the courage to speak. To actually say hi.

-> until one day where you get locked out of your apartment. You lost your keys or something. And with your luck, your roommate works the night shift at the hospital. You’ve got no way in until morning.

-> So you find yourself stuck. An hour goes by and you’re sitting on the dirty carpet hallway floor. Leaned up against the wall. Eyes fluttering closed because hell it’s been a long day. Frank, on his way home from work, makes his ways down the hall. Concerned at first by the sight of your body laying in the hall. But he gets to his door and it’s just you, half asleep. You give him a soft smile and he finally asks you for your name. You explain your situation and he nods in understanding.

“Well don’t just sit there. C’mon.” He’d wave you into his place, lunchbox in hand. Dirty from a day of construction. In desperate need of a shower and some food.

-> you’re reluctant to come in. Not because of Frank. Or at least not because you didn’t like him. More so… the opposite. You found him intimidating. Handsome. Rugged. You always enjoyed running into him. Smiling at him in the elevator. Trying not to blush too hard. But there’s just this aura about him that makes you a little nervous. Butterflies or something.

-> he’d tell you to make yourself at home while you wait to get ahold of your roommate. Or come up with a plan to get your keys. To call the landlord. Though you doubt they’d answer at this hour.

-> he asks if you’re alright if he showers, “I’ll be quick. You can help yourself to the fridge.” He even grabs you a beer and places it on the table in front of you. Cracking one for himself as he heads for the washroom.

-> it feels weird. Being in a strangers home. It’s empty. Sad almost. Grey walls. Nothing… personal. Nothing that tells you anything about the man. It’s clean. As clean as any of the suites in you cheap ass apartment can possibly get. But it’s bland. It’s a bachelor suite. He’s got nothing more than the necessities. The basics. You can’t help but think about Frank. In this apartment. Every night by himself. He must be lonely.

-> you saunter over to the fridge. Not particularly hungry, but feeling slightly awkward just sitting at his table and doing nothing. There’s enough to make a weeks worth of sandwiches. And a more than a few weeks worth of beer. You take a swig of your bottle.

-> when the water shuts off, you get back to your spot at the table. Checking your phone. The messages with your roommate. He’s probably busy. Drawing blood. Stitching people up. Doing whatever it is he does as a surgical intern.

-> “you get ahold of him?” Franks voice brings you back.

“Oh, no. He’s- he’s probably busy. Works at the hospital so… um… thanks for inviting me in, but uh, I can just wait out there.” You sling your bag over your shoulder, getting up to leave.

“Wait out there? All night?” He asks. Your gaze goes down to his shirt. A little damp where beads of water are running down his neck. Off his beard. You look back up. He’s got such pretty eyes, you notice.

“Yeah, i’ll be alright.” You give him a tight lipped smile. But he’s not having it.

He shakes his head, “here,” he grabs a blanket from the supply closet. And a pillow. A pillowcase. He fumbles with the makeshift bedding for a moment until he makes the couch up. It does look nicer than the stained hallway carpet.

“You can’t stay out there. There’s some real… weirdos in this area. Wouldn’t want anything happening to you.” His concern makes your stomach flutter. Even if it’s just human decency. Courtesy of not wanting you to get mugged or murdered.

“You really don’t have to-“ you try to deny the offer but he grabs your bag. Gently pulling it off your shoulders and placing it against the wall.

“It’s just for the night. I don’t mind. Seriously.” His eyes are serious. Brows furrowed in concern.

-> the couch is cozier than you expected. Worn and used in the most perfect way. It takes you no time to fall asleep. Frank on the other hand, is having some serious insomnia. There’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, right outside his bedroom. Sleeping on his couch. Probably making his blanket smell like her vanilla perfume. It’s making his brain all fuzzy. He can’t think. Well, he can’t not think. You’re wearing one of his tee shirts. He offered it up. No, he insisted. And when saying goodnight from his bedroom doorway, he couldn’t help but notice that your pants were folded up on top of your bag, and your bare legs gleamed in the dim light of the living room, as you fluffed up your pillow.

-> the two of you had some very interesting dreams that night.

-> Waking up to the smell of coffee, you’re blushing hard when he hands you a mug. He tells you he has to leave for work. Lunchbox in hand, jacket on.

-> He didn’t ask for his shirt back.

-> you wave Frank goodbye as you watch him head down the hallway, and at the same time, you see your roommate come out of the elevator at the end. Both of them exchange a nod and a glance. Your roommate jogs up to let you both into your place.

“You coulda came to the hospital. Coulda grabbed my keys,” he says plopping himself down on the couch. Rubbing his eyes. Long night for him as well.

“I didn’t even think about it. He just- Frank invited me in and I was so tired… I mean, it seemed like a better option than sleeping in the hall…”

“Well it was real nice of him. Maybe you should make him a dish or somethin’. Lasagna? Y’know, to say thank you.”

“You just want some lasagna don’t you?” You smirk, rolling your eyes.

Your roommate smiles back. A low chuckle escapes his throat. “The man let you sleep on his couch. You better be sayin’ thank you somehow.”

continued here

(Idk what this is tbh but um… let me know what we think??)

[dameronology]

home (frank castle)

warnings: a little bit of frank being depressed but that's about it. probably language too? i don't even notice anymore.

this is the first thing i've written in so long and it's very short buuuut i hope you like it

--jazz xx

You could always tell when Frank had had a bad night.

The signs were clear as soon as he got home. Boots thrown to the side with a loud thunk (he would apologise for the noise in the morning); body haphazardly hitting the mattress beside you as he let out a huff of exhaustion. Normally, his hands would be on you before he even in bed. He had to sleep with his chest pressed to your back, arms wrapped tightly around you, any signs of breaking free met with intense refusal until the morning. You felt safe but he felt safer.

Tonight was different. You heard the crash of shoes, and the thump, thump, thump towards the bed. The mattress dipped beside you but instead of his hands, you were met with Frank's back to you. It was tense, littered with pink scars and red ones, and fresh cuts and bruises. You could have reached out, but you didn't want to push it. A few years ago, before you, before this, before he'd learnt love again, he probably wouldn't have come home at all. He would have stayed out til the crack of dawn, fighting, fighting, fighting; fists beaten to a pulp and every part of him rigid and exhausted to his very core. Frank had learnt now: when he got really bad, he had to come home. When the going got too tough even for him, it normally meant it was the end of night. You were just grateful he had come at all.

You said nothing; just a small sigh. For him, for you, for whatever the morning would bring.

10AM came quickly. It was a Sunday, so Manhattan was nice enough to wake a few minutes later than usual. The silence in your bedroom was quickly filled with the sound of horns and brakes and the yells of the outside world. You didn't have work that day, thank god. That meant there was no rush. Frank could rise whenever he wanted.

Except - fuck - you had forgotten to turn off your alarm. It came blaring out your phone as soon as the clock struck on the hour, vibrating across your bedside table and onto the floor with a loud thud. Frank, being the world's lightest and potentially most dangerous sleeper, quickly rose. His hair was getting longer now, so it was tuftier in the mornings. You would have laughed if your chest wasn't so heavy.

You quickly hopped out of bed, sheepishly picking up the phone.

"Shit," you muttered. "Frankie, I'm sorry."

He let out a grumble, rubbing his eyes. "It's okay. I had to wake up at some point."

"Are you okay?" you quietly asked. "I know you're not but...I gotta ask."

Frank didn't say anything - instead he just sighed. Then, he opened his arms and ushered for you to come back to bed. You did so without hesitation, dropping into the sheets beside him. Strong arms wrapped around you instantly, holding you to his chest, one hand cupping the back of your head. You'd always found irony in the fact that he had to be the one to hold you when he was upset. No matter how shit he was feeling, Frank was always the big spoon. His ability to protect you was the one thing he could control. It was the one thing that made him feel a little okay again.

"It was a really rough night," he quietly admitted. "I'll be okay, sweetheart. I just wanna take it easy today."

Frank said nothing else. What he had said was beyond anyone else's wildest dreams; this was coming from the man who made a point of closing himself off, from refusing himself love and anything good. You were the only person he would ever say anything too. It was safe to assume at any given moment that he wasn't okay, but he was a little closer to it when he was with you.

The rest of the morning went like a ghost.

You moved around each other with ease; his small touches lingered - a hand on your back here, another on your hip there - and you could tell he was coming back around. Sure, he burnt the first three pancakes and didn't realise the milk was out of date til after he'd poured it into your coffee, but he was being Frank. You would have been more worried if he'd cooked properly or made good coffee.

You'd moved to the sofa by midday, dirty plates piled up in the sink and Max snoring on the rug in the middle of your living room. Die Hard was playing quietly in the background (Frank argued it was an all year round movie). You were sat between his legs on the sofa, large thighs either side of yours and arms wrapped around your front. He had his head resting on top of yours, giving you the occasional squeeze with his legs and arms.

"I love you," Frank quietly murmured. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You turned your head to look at him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I love you too."

"I'm sorry for being quiet last night. I didn't mean to ignore you."

"You don't have to apologise," you hummed. "I'm just grateful you came home."

"I'll always come home."

[kasagia]

Could you make something like where klaus' girlfriend/wife is really attractive and all of his enemies want her(like lucien or tristan)?

Everybody wants to steal my girl

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x reader Summary: Klaus (and you) have been struggling with hybrid's jealousy for 1,000 years. It doesn't help that you're stunningly beautiful and that all his enemies want to steal you from him. But Klaus will not let his wife ever leave his side—or worse, lose her feelings for him. Even if he is "slightly" insecure about himself. Warning(s): jealous Klaus, jealous reader, a bit smut (I think) but not 18+, Klaus being an insecure puppy Word count: 7k I guess

She's been my queen since we were sixteen, we want the same things We dream the same dreams, alright, alright?

Klaus stormed into the abattoir in a rage. He promised himself that he would rip Lucien's heart out of his chest as soon as the circumstances were right, making sure he had suffered enough for his heinous act beforehand.

Klaus was the only one who could flirt with his wife.

He'd have to make sure that this pathetic creature got the message the next time they met. Lucien had condemned his life to death anyway, but Klaus might have had the pity to spare him from his creative torture.

Y/N didn't like it when he got blood on the floor. And when their daughter Hope came into the world, she tried to keep the violence around her to a minimum. Which didn't mean Klaus shouldn't fight every potential suitor of his baby's mother. Hope would agree with him if she was old enough.

When he calmed down, he decided to look into the room of their miracle child. He smiled, leaning against the doorframe as he saw Y/N putting their daughter to sleep. She sang an Old Norse lullaby they both knew from their human days.

Klaus flashed back to the days when he was just a teenager, head over heels in love with the daughter of their village chief. Then he wouldn't even have had a chance to hold her hand in public. His family was lower in the village hierarchy, which meant he could only dream of marrying a(n) Y/N. Which didn't stop them from falling in love. And turning her into a vampire with the Mikaelson siblings—the only thing he owed to his mother.

They both wanted and dreamed of the same thing: being together. They've had their ups and downs over the past thousand years, but they've always stayed together. She was the only person in their family that Klaus had never stabbed. Besides, he couldn't. She was a hybrid, just like him. After breaking his curse, it turned out that their lost dreams of having a family together weren't all that lost. Hope appeared. And they both hoped she wouldn't be their only child. But first, they had to deal with their enemies.

Klaus knew he would do anything to protect his girls. And in moments like this—when Y/N smiled softly at him, holding their sleeping daughter in her arms—he knew that his efforts were damn well worth the hard work and sleepless nights.

His wife might just not be so irresistibly, wonderfully beautiful at every fucking moment of the day. It would have saved him a lot of nerves and fits of jealousy every time someone flirted with his goddess.

"Tough day?" Y/n asked, placing her hand on his cheek. Klaus didn't even notice when she approached him.

"It's better since I've seen you, love." he murmured, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his chest to bury his nose in her delightfully fragrant hair.

Klaus adored every inch of her.

I know, I know, I know for sure Everybody want to steal my girl Everybody want to take her heart away Couple billion in the whole wide world Find another one cause she belongs to me

On days like this, Klaus was more murderous than usual.

Y/N knew full well that after agreeing to Tristan's polite request for a dance, Klaus was going to explode tonight. Not that she wanted to dance with the brother of a bitch who wanted to take her husband. Tristan's compliments to her, or even the subtle hints of his attraction to her, weren't pleasant to her either.

That was the plan: she was to distract Tristan while Klaus and Freya searched their house. The only thing Elijah didn't take into account was Klaus' enormous tendency to get jealous every time he touched her or received a compliment from another man.

Y/N could have sworn she saw Kol in the crowd eating a pack of popcorn, waiting for things to happen.

So she wasn't surprised when Klaus appeared at one point, snatching her from Tristan's arms with a warning growl. Or that he later marked her neck carefully and every inch of her body that had been contaminated by another man's hands.

Y/N was HIS and no one could ever change that. Not when he was around.

Elijah then burst into your room, being very annoyed at his brother's behavior. But honestly? He should have known better than to hope Klaus wouldn't give in to his jealousy. Tristan was lucky he didn't rip his hands off on the spot. On that day, the second of their first-turned vampires handed down a death sentence. Klaus wouldn't let anyone steal his wife.

Everybody want to steal my girl Everybody want to take her heart away Couple billion in the whole wide world Find another one cause she belongs to me

The cup of bitterness overflowed in Klaus when Lucien approached you on your annual "wedding anniversary" date. Yes, Klaus dared to show enough of his sentimental and tender side to declare this day a national holiday. No murders and no bodies on this day - that's what he promised you thousands of years ago.

But when he brought your order to the table and saw Lucien shamelessly flirting with you in front of him, inviting you for a drink at his suite, he seriously considered breaking that oath.

Unfortunately, he couldn't do that. He would rather avoid your wrath.

So instead, he walked over to your table with a sly, confident smirk, put the food on the table, and, grabbing your chin, pulled you close to kiss you passionately in front of the vampire.

He was marking his territory.

You smiled as Niklaus ignored Lucien's awkward grunt, only kissing you fiercely. He only let you go when he was sure your lips were swollen enough from his kiss. He smirked at your slightly disheveled state.

"Were you very bored without me, love?" he asked, playing with your hair.

"I kept her company, Klaus." the hybrid winced at Lucien's voice. He mustered up all the rest of his patience and turned his head, acknowledging the vampire's presence.

"Oh really? I didn't notice you, Lucien. You can go now." he brushed him off, turning back to you. Disgust in his gaze gave way to pure adoration. You were always amazed at how quickly you could change his mood with just your presence.

"Nik, sweetheart, it's very inappropriate to talk like that to our oldest friends, isn't it? Lucien, darling, we'll continue our conversation someday. You have to forgive me, but I promised my grumpy husband that I would focus all my attention on him today." you excused the two of you with a cute smile. Lucien just nodded, blushing.

You grabbed Klaus' arm and pulled him out of the bar before he lunged at the vampire.

"Niklaus, my heart and soul, you know I'm only yours, right?" you asked, kissing his cheek to stifle the surge of his jealousy.

"Yes. Which doesn't mean that this creature knows it too. And I'm not grumpy." he grunted, the furrow of irritation on his forehead deepening as he remembered Lucien's sweet words to you. He wanted to vomit as soon as you answered him in an equally nice and polite tone. "Every enemy of mine has a crush on you anyway; even my father doesn't feel disgusted and murderous toward you."

"Yes? You should have seen Aurora's face when she passed us a few minutes ago. She must have sent Lucien here to spoil our evening."

"Wait a minute, love... is that why you've drawn me to this very nice, unexpected, passionate, mind-blowing kiss in the middle of the street?" he asked with an incredulous smirk, watching with satisfaction as a treacherous blush crept onto your cheeks.

"What am I supposed to say? You're as territorial in this relationship as I am. Besides, we don't want to give our enemies the false impression that we see anything but each other, do we?"

"It's good to know you get jealous of me from time to time too, love."

"Time to time? Please, have you seen yourself in the mirror? I'm still at war with all these horny women who want to steal you from me. Such cheekbones, wonderful eyes, and an English accent are the dreams of many."

"Maybe, but I'm probably the one who chases away the most suitors out of the two of us. You have no idea how many people have had a crush on you over the centuries."

Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na Oh yeah Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na Alright Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na She belongs to me

There was going to be a celebration of the summer solstice in their village. Young Klaus was just waiting for you to sneak out with him after the ceremonial rites for your own celebration.

You've been courting each other for over three years now, and today Klaus was finally going to pluck up the courage (with the help of Elijah and Rebekah and Kol's teasing) to propose to you. The ring was safely in his pocket, and the sword was well hidden where the two of you were supposed to spend a romantic evening.

Everything was planned and ready. Nothing could go wrong today. He anticipated and ready for every circumstance, and his mother (the only one of your parents who knew about this secret relationship) promised him to keep his father away from your tryst's place.

But it never occurred to him that another man would try to steal you away from him.

Thor Ragnarsson, the strongest and most powerful young warrior from their village, has been dancing with you since the beginning of the night. And it didn't seem like he was going to let you go that easily, and after the rumors he heard from Kol, Klaus found out that the man wanted to court you.

Klaus had a panic attack. How could he—weak, one of the many sons of a lesser warrior—compete with such a man for your hand? Thor could give you much more than he can. He was stronger, richer, more famous, and handsomer... No. He couldn't think like that. Not when you were destined for each other by fate, stars, spirits, gods, or whatever was watching over you. He had to do something, and fast, before that son of a bitch charms you and you forget the boy who wrote you poems and painted your portraits on the bark of trees.

Klaus may not have been the strongest, but he had something that many of their villagers lacked. He had the cunning, brains, and skill of the best assassin. He will snatch you from this brute's clutches. But first he'll have to figure out how to do it (and take control of the deepening feelings of jealousy that clouded his good judgment.)

Thor only had two weaknesses. Beautiful women and strong drinks. He doubted that he would get drunk so easily; they don't know each other, so even if he offered him something stronger to drink (with an admixture of sleeping herbs), he would probably refuse and sense Klaus' ruse. So he had to resort to Plan B.

"Rebekah!" he shouted, trying to find his sister in the dancing crowd. He found her pretty quickly. He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from talking to some man (whom he and Elijah needed to check out in the future) and dragged the protesting blonde to a place where they could watch you and Thor. "I need your help. Do you see this skunk who is talking to my Y/N? Please distract him so I and Y/N can run away from there. You know I wanted to propose to her tonight, and that lesser man is ruining my whole plan!"

"Couldn't you have asked Tatia? She would have helped you because of Elijah."

"They got out of here before Kol could scare off another woman. Please, Rebekah. Won't you do it for your favorite brother?"

"She better say yes." she sighed in defeat, threading herself into the dancing crowd. After a moment, she hit Y/N's partner and winked at Klaus. He didn't waste a second. He ran over to you and, making sure everyone was too busy to notice you, threw you over his shoulder and took you from there.

"Nik! You can put me down now." she laughed at him as they entered the forest. Klaus reluctantly set her down, immediately drawing her into a passionate kiss, which she eagerly returned. "What took you so long?"

"I had to make sure the inconvenience wouldn't bother us when we sneaked out."

"That inconvenience has a name. Besides, Thor's just my friend. We both know very well that my heart belongs to only one man in this village."

"And who is it, love?"

"Well, he's quite tall; he has blonde hair and beautiful, mesmerizing blue eyes; and he's artistically talented. I've never seen more beautiful things than the ones he's made, and he's soooo jealous of me, but that's only because he loves me and he's pretty insecure about himself. Thinking about it like that, I guess I should make sure he knows how much I desire and love him so he doesn't come up with some weird ideas. What do you think?"

"I think this man was born under a lucky star to be worthy of a miracle like you."

"I forgot to add that he charms me with his words like no one else." you murmured, placing a tender kiss on his lips, which accelerated the rhythm of your already madly beating hearts. He pushed you into a tree, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you close, not wanting the world to let this moment between you ever end. You pulled away from him, placing your hand gently on his cheek. You smiled, looking at him with love in your eyes as he turned his head to kiss your hand. "I dare not agree with you. I'm the lucky one to have you, Niklaus. And believe me, nothing on this earth can change the way I love you. Nothing is even close enough to steal me from your safe, loving arms."

"So what do you say when..." he knelt down in front of you, trembling with nerves as he took a hand-made ring from his pocket. "Will I offer you my heart, soul, and body forever? You have my eternal devotion, loyalty, and love regardless of your answer, but know that it will be a real honor and a gift from the gods to call you my wife and to have a family with you. I want nothing more in this world than for you to be mine, Y/N. And I may not be the best choice; I am not very rich or strong, but I promise you that I will try to be the best husband for you."

"Oh, Niklaus, you stupid, insecure man... of course I will marry you!" you screamed with tears in your eyes, throwing yourself at him and knocking the two of you to the ground. You both laughed happily as you kissed each other's faces. Klaus gently slid the ring onto your finger.

One satisfying thought lingered in his mind as you both lounged in the field, embracing each other and watching the stars, talking about your future together.

She belongs to me.

Kisses like cream, her walk is so mean And every jaw drops when she's in those jeans, alright, alright? I don't exist if I don't have her The sun doesn't shine, the world doesn't turn, alright, alright?

"Any party you forgot to invite me to?" Klaus flinched at your pretentious, cold tone of voice. He turned away from the table to explain why Lucien, Aurora, and Tristan were sitting at the table with him and his brothers but fell silent, trying to keep his jaw from dropping.

"You look breathtaking as always, darling. Tristan and I missed having a beautiful woman at this table." Klaus stared murderously at Lucien as he kissed your hand, ignoring Aurora's offended snort. He knew you did it on purpose.

This morning, when he asked you to take Hope to visit Aunt Hayley for the day, you were wearing a completely different outfit. Now you were wearing those annoyingly tight jeans that showed off your curves perfectly, and you knew he loved them. Paired with a plunging neckline blouse, diamond jewelry, and little makeup, you looked like a goddess. Aurora could hide in the septic tank with her elegant, short dress.

You smirked at Aurora, sitting down between Lucien and Tristan, across from your husband. And that, too, was a deliberate ploy. You were out of reach of his hands to tease him with your beauty even more, regaling those idiots by your side with your heavenly presence. Klaus will make sure you pay for your little feat tonight.

He shot you a warning look as he noticed Lucien inching slightly closer to you, but you ignored him completely, smiling at some comment from the younger vampire.

Oh, yes, you will definitely be punished.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" you asked him, knowing full well where his thoughts wandered.

"No. You're messing up the world order by fawning over this scoundrel instead of sitting next to me."

"Perfectly fine, love. Just admiring your beauty tonight."

"Only mine?" you asked, casually swirling her glass of wine and glancing meaningfully at Aurora, who tensed slightly under your gaze. You smiled meanly, ignoring Elijah's staring at you with irritation.

After failing to get anything meaningful out of Lucien (Klaus wouldn't let you get close enough to use his tricks), Elijah figured Aurora's weakness for Klaus could be exploited. But this time he didn't anticipate that you'd pick up on your husband's jealous behavior.

And you were much worse than the mighty hybrid.

"You know you're the only one I belong to, love." Klaus finally answered, shocking the younger vampires. They had never witnessed the world's deadliest vampire softly professing his love and devotion to you. You smiled sweetly at him, offering him your hand, which he kissed without hesitation. You shot a malicious, defiant look at Aurora.

They thought he had you wrapped around his finger, but it turns out to be quite the opposite...

Everybody want to steal my girl Everybody want to take her heart away Couple billion in the whole wide world Find another one cause she belongs to me

"Cheer up, she's just talking to him and not even of her own free will, Nik." you heard Kol calming down your husband when you tried to get information from Lucien.

For some reason, a vampire who has been impersonating your husband over the years has fallen for your extraordinary beauty and become infatuated with you.

Elijah decided to try again and use this to your advantage, much to Klaus' displeasure and fury. This time, Elijah put his other younger brother on guard. Honestly, it was fun to watch Kol occasionally hold Klaus by his henley to keep him from running towards you.

But of the two evils, Kol preferred to fight Klaus' jealousy over yours. You have proven more than once that you are a more dangerous opponent than his already bloodthirsty brother.

"Are you alright, darling?" Lucien pulled you out of your thoughts as he looked at you with concern.

"Yeah, I'm just a little tired. Hope's been getting on my nerves lately. She's so little, and she already has her dad's temper."

"A beautiful and caring woman like you deserves one night off." he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and placing a flower there in the process. You had to admit that it was a very sweet gesture. You blushed involuntarily, smiling shyly at the vampire. "Will you do me the honor?" he asked, extending his hand towards you. You really didn't want to flirt with him, but Elijah didn't give you much of a way out. You hoped Klaus knew that. But from the burning look you could feel in the back of your head as Lucien led you to the dance floor, you knew you were bound to have a fit of jealousy at home.

You just hoped no one would die until you were alone in the same room with your husband to ease his jealousy.

You glanced out of the corner of your eye at Kol and Klaus' hideout. You almost burst out laughing as you saw the two brothers jostling with each other as Kol was trying hard to hold Klaus by his henley.

"Bloody hell, calm down before I put a dog muzzle around your neck!" Kol hissed at him, deftly dodging Klaus' fangs as he tried to inject him with his werewolf venom.

Fortunately, Freya came and took control of them, thanks to which the rest of the night went without incident (except that Klaus barged in at the end of the party and, together with Kol, pretending to be drunk, laughed at their ball. The divas, as always, had to show up.)

You thought everything would be fine, but on the way back, Nik didn't say a word to you, only holding your hand in an iron grip as he put up with Kol's story about what a "jealous and rabid dog" he had been throughout the whole ball.

The son of a bitch only made him angrier and escaping to Davina at the first possible opportunity after you were parked under abattoir.

The rest of the siblings got out of the car quickly, leaving you and Klaus alone. You had to defuse the ticking time bomb that was your husband before it was too late, and also on your own.

"Nik..." you began in a sweet tone, but the man didn't even look up from your joined hands as he played with your wedding ring on your finger. "Nik, listen…"

"Do you regret your decision?"he blurted out, not letting you finish your sentence.

"What?" you asked, shocked about his unexpected, serious question.

You turned to him so you could get a better look at him. He was staring at your hands nervously. You could feel his grip tightening with every second of the tense silence between you two.

"Do you regret marrying me?" he asked in a trembling, rueful voice.

"Oh, Niklaus... my best friend, my king, my soulmate. How could I ever regret marrying my first, true, epic love?" you took his cheeks in your hands, making him look you in the eyes. "I love you. All of you. In your good and bad days, and nothing can change that. None knows me as well as you do. Nobody is even close to making me feel the way you have been making me feel for these last thousand years. You are my peace, my home, my security, my heart, and my everything. There could be a billion people asking for my hand, and I'll choose you again, and again, and again. You, our sweet Hope, and your siblings are the only ones I care about in this bloody world. I'm yours, Niklaus, and I'm not going anywhere in the following eternity."

"Good." he murmured, barely holding back tears, and pulled you into a needy kiss.

You grabbed his shoulders and straddled him, knowing full well that, after moments of uncertainty like this, he needed your tender, firm touch.

And with the uncles and aunts watching over your daughter, you were more than willing to take care of your insecure husband.

The next day you woke up alone in your bed, but in a room filled with various beautiful flowers… none of them were like the one Lucien had given you and Klaus had burned.

Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na Oh yeah Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na Alright Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na

You lay in bed together, sleeping off the long weeks of fighting the de Martels and Lucien. You finally killed them, returning to that blissful, peaceful state. AND! Hope has gained a new Uncle Finn and Grandpa Ansel. And it looked like Aunt Davina would join your happy, crazy, Mikaelosn's bunch, thanks to Kol. Klaus allowed them to look after the baby under the watchful eye of Rebekah and Freya.

It'll probably be years before he trusts them enough to leave them alone with Hope, but that's just how your husband was.

Always a protector, a warrior, repelling any evil that could reach his loved ones.

"Stop thinking. Go back to sleep." he murmured, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer.

Lately, he has had a strange urge to stay very close to you. Maybe it's because spring is coming? You didn't want to ask him about his wolf side yet. He was fairly new to it and... shy. You were glad that now Ansel would be able to help him understand his other half.

"I thought we established a long time ago that I disobey your orders." you started to comb his hair, smiling as you heard him purr softly. He deserved to rest after bravely defending your family. You didn't know how much time you had left until another bomb exploded in your face.

"You could at least pretend to be a little obedient to your husband." he huffed, his eyes still closed.

"Me? Obedient? I thought you knew what you were taking, Mikaelson. Now, it's too late for any returns." you snorted, amused. Klaus graciously opened one eye, staring at you adoringly.

"I did. You're mine forever." he replied seriously, making your cheeks flush furiously and your heart speed up.

"Good." you whispered, placing a tender, short kiss on his lips.

"Good." he replied, cupping your cheeks and kissing you "properly" stealing your breath away. You enjoyed a moment to yourselves, touching each other tenderly, grounding in the familiar feeling of another's lips.

You two needed it after weeks of jealousy and uncertainty on both sides. Reminders that nothing and no one can take each other away. You belonged to him as much as he belonged to you. Soul and body.

You still were kissing as Klaus slid his hand down your neck, breasts, and belly and started to lift your shirt, making you shiver every time your bare skin made brief contact with his fingertips.

Suddenly, Hope's cry came from downstairs, effectively breaking the moment between the two of you. Klaus groaned, resting his forehead against yours.

"Your daughter is calling us."

"And since when is she just my daughter?"

"Since she's been demanding our attention purely because of her current mood. You spoiled her, Nik, and she's not even 4."

"I know another woman I've spoiled, and she's not complaining about it at all. Maybe that's not a bad thing."

"Just bring her here. I need her too." you backed out, knowing full well you couldn't win this fight. Thousands of dresses, jewelry, and your portraits painted by Klaus spoke clearly against you. Hope may have been spoiled by her dad, but over the past thousand years (and probably many more to come), your husband has made sure you get everything you want. Even a fucking star in the sky.

"As you wish, love." he murmured, kissing your forehead before going to fetch your daughter.

She knows, she knows that I never let her down before She know, she knows that I'm never gonna let take another take her love from me

Klaus couldn't let his guard down. You just had to attract everyone with your beauty. Even the Salvatore brothers. He wasn't worried about Damon. He was too smitten with Elena to even think about making a move to get your affection. But Stefan… the golden, Salvatore hero—who had some dark points in common with him but was definitely a better choice than him. Bloody hell, he would want him too, if he had to choose between himself and him. So he has to work really hard to prove to you that he may be better than Stefan.

It didn't help that the younger vampire was stealing you in front of him and dancing with you most of the time at his mother's ball.

Not also the fact that you were willing to let him lead you after Klaus argued with you about Esther's intentions. You sensed something wrong with her aura, but Klaus believed (or wanted to believe) that his mother meant well. That, like him, she wanted to reunite the family.

You guys argued pretty hard about it. And now you were dancing in the arms of his enemy, honoring him with your beauty, smile and attention.

The worst part of it all was that you didn't send him a single malicious smirk. You didn't tease him like you usually did after your fights. You didn't even notice him as he watched you doggedly, tipping another glass of champagne. His name probably never crossed your mind this evening.

He played with the wedding ring on his finger, watching carefully as Salavtore flirted with you in front of him. He promised himself that this time he wouldn't give in to his jealousy. He won't play by the rules of your game, and he won't play the jealous husband. You will come to him yourself and apologize to him.

At least that was the plan until he saw you take your wedding ring off.

This was too fucking much for him.

He set his glass down on the table and with a quick, slightly unsteady step, walked over to the two of you and twisted Stefan's arm, the exact one he had dared to touch your bare shoulder.

Salvatore groaned, drawing the attention of those around you. But you stood firm as you watched your husband break at least two of his bones. He released Stefan in disgust and grabbed your hand, dragging you through the crowd of onlookers to his studio - the only place where no one would dare disturb you.

"What the hell was that?!" he shouted, slamming the door behind the two of you in anger.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, sweetheart."

"For your own good, don't make me more mad than I already am, love."

"And you, for your own good, remember that I AM NOT the meek wife you can order around! I'm the hybrid, like you, an original. You have no power over me, wolfie, no one has."

"Are you sure, love?" he growled throatily, taking a big step towards her. You backed up until you hit the wall behind you. Klaus walked over to you, your chests rubbing against each other with every breath you took.

He suddenly kissed you aggressively, taking out all his anger and insecurity on you as he bit into your enticing mouth and began sucking the slowly oozing blood. He groaned at the sweet, addictive taste on his tongue.

With one hand, he untangles your complicated hairstyle and wraps your hair around his hand, tilting your head back. While he was busy fucking your neck with kisses, you took advantage of his distraction, digging your nails into his arms, taking revenge for biting your lip. He hissed, annoyed at your bratty attitude, and pressed his lips to yours again. Once he had distracted you, he gave away two of your dresses and slapped you hard on the ass. You moaned into the kiss, rubbing against him, making him even crazier with desire. He had to control himself before you went too far for him to carry out his plan.

"Such a willing… so needy whore for me." you moaned as he brushed against your core, still teasing you, his fangs on your neck as he bit your skin gently. "What a pity I only fuck with my wife." he growled, pushing away from you and heading towards the exit.

"Niklaus!" you gasped in anger as his body heat left you.

"Put your wedding ring back on, and maybe I will help you with your... little problem." he threw over his shoulder, ignoring your shouts of protest and threats.

He didn't even get his hand on the doorknob when you pinned him to the door, kissing him passionately. He grinned, throwing you onto the piano in the corner as he caught a glimpse of the familiar black gold on your finger out of the corner of his eye. Where the fuck should always be. He leaned over you, grabbing your chin hard to make you look into his eyes. Need and lust shone in your irises, making him harder than ever.

"You're mine. I am the only bloody man who'll ever hear your sweet moaning in pleasure like a whore. Nobody can take you away from me. Don't ever dare to think you can have any lover but me."

"Then stop talking and prove it."

"With a fucking pleasure, love." he growled, kissing you hungrily as he tore your dress in half.

Everybody want to steal my girl Everybody want to take her heart away Couple billion in the whole wide world Find another one cause she belongs to me

Hayley and Jackson's son stayed over at Hope's, and Klaus was more terrified than when he had fought his father. His little girl was playing with some kid. What if he started flirting with her? He had read somewhere that kids that age often find "boyfriends and girlfriends" and call every other person they are friends with that. He wasn't ready to hear from his little daughter that she had a boyfriend.

So ever since Hayley brought him in, he'd been giving the boy a stern look, much to his wife's annoyance. Klaus' reluctance gradually began to turn into indifference when, after hours of time Hope spent with her friend, he did not notice anything suspicious. They'd lasted all day, and there was no indication that the kid would have to be wiped off the face of the earth (or at least taken back to his parents immediately).

But then came breakfast. And Klaus noticed that this kid was staring at you in adoration. And he didn't like it at all.

He was not at all prepared for the insult, the insult directed at him, which the child said after you helped him cut his food.

"You are beautiful and kind as an angel. When I grow up, I will be your husband." Klaus spat out his cup of tea, choking as you tried not to burst out laughing at the 6-year-old's comment and Nik' reaction.

"Honey... but I already have a husband. He'll be very sad if I find another." Hayley called her son, who said goodbye to you and ran to hug Hope before mom took him away. You looked at your stunned husband with amusement. "Well… at least you don't have to worry about him flirting with Hope."

"This kid won't be stepping over the threshold of this house again." he growled, leaving the room to make sure the little one was out for good.

"Niklaus! It is just a child!" you shouted after him, laughing at his jealousy as you ran to make sure he didn't intimidate the poor boy.

Everybody want to steal my girl Everybody want to take her heart away Couple billion in the whole wide world Find another one cause she belongs to me

It's been quite a few years since Klaus' last fit of jealousy. After the (victory) fight against Inadu, you were finally able to enjoy a moment of normality.

You had lunch at some diner in Mystic Falls; you visited Hope at her school, and somehow it happened that a group of her colleagues accosted her. She introduced you, you chatted with them for a while, and everything was supposed to be a normal dinner with your daughter and her friends, until one of them... crossed the line.

"Now we know from whom Hope inherited such loveliness. You are very beautiful, Mrs. Mikaelson."

You quickly grabbed Klaus' hand across the table, politely thanking the boy. Hope, seeing what was going on, escorted her friends away and left you alone for a moment.

"Niklaus, he's just a teenager."

"Uhm." he muttered absently, staring with daggers at the departing boy.

"He could be our son, for God's sake!"

"Most people on this planet could be our children, but that doesn't stop them from flirting with my wife." you rolled your eyes, smiling with amusement as he growled at the boy staring at you when Hope was explaining something to him. The poor guy looked away in panic and ran away as fast as he could.

You were going to scold your husband for scaring your daughter's friends, but you decided to leave it to Hope. The smart girl knew how to talk to her father better than you. Maybe she'd finally knock those stupid fits of jealousy out of his head, with which you've been struggling for 1,000 years.

"Your pregnant wife, I would like to point out. And we're not going anywhere. Certainly not with a teenager." you said, grabbing his chin and pulling him to you so you could kiss him. Klaus grunted, pleased with the feeling of your lips on his, and automatically placed his hand on your yet-unseen belly, smirking as he felt the pulse of the youngest member of the Mikaelson family growing inside you.

"I'm back!" Hope screamed, stepping behind you with a nervous smile. You raised an eyebrow, while looking at your daughter. Oh, no. You knew that look in her eyes. Klaus had the same gaze as he was about to do... something in Mikaelson's style. "Taking the opportunity... I mean, now that you're reassuring dad. Mom, Dad, I have a boyfriend. His name is Landon, and he's coming to the family dinner on Friday for all of you to meet him. So, bye! I'm going back to school. I love you both!" she said, kissing you both on the cheeks and leaving you both stunned. You burst out laughing at Klaus' shocked, defeated expression.

"Nik? Are you okay?" you asked, still laughing. Your husband's patience really was tested today.

"I told you we should stay in bed today. I knew something bad was about to happen." he growled, giving you a menacing look as you still couldn't stop laughing. You kissed the corner of his lips, a huge smirk still on your face. Klaus rolled his eyes but couldn't hold back his smirk any longer while he was looking at you. The power you hold over him... one your smile was easily changing his mood. Even in situations like this.

"Don't be such dramatic. It's probably better that Hope is dating teens than me, right?"

"Stop it, love." he growled, putting the money on the table. He grabbed your hand and led you out of the bar.

"Stop what?" you asked, pretending to be innocent as you strolled towards your car.

"Teasing me."

"But it's my favorite part of the day… and we all know you enjoy every ounce of my undivided attention." you replied, stopping both of you in front of the car and putting your hands on his shoulders. You stared at him with a mischievous smirk, playing with his hair. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he leaned against your car.

"You know you're ruining my carefully crafted reputation as the greatest evil in the world?"

"I'm not too concerned about this… how about you?"

His only response was a light chuckle before he kissed you with all his love for you. You smiled, cupping his cheeks and pulling him as close to you as possible. You both loved those moments of peace between the two of you. No witches, vampires, or werewolves wanting your death. Just the two of you in each other's arms, too busy with each other to care about anything else.

"Let's go home, love. Before that bunch of Salvatores come down here with white oak stakes." he hummed tenderly, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

He could stare at your beautiful face for hours. Even if it meant dealing with the people who wanted to steal his goddess first. It was worth every effort to hold you in his arms again.

"I don't think we're on the top criminals list anymore. Stefan was recently joking that you had retired. And before you get a seizure in the middle of town, let me say that I didn't talk to him. Hope is friends with Delena's daughter. She might have overheard something."

"The gods must have punished me in some way for my many antics, so they sent me a wife to teach my daughter how to get on my nerves without even trying."

"Oh sweetheart. I love you too." you laughed as you both got into the car to go home.

Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na Oh yeah Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na Alright Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na She belongs to me

You were sitting in a rocking chair, holding your newborn son in your arms. The baby finally fell asleep peacefully, and you were afraid to make any move after hours of putting him to sleep. It looks like you'll have to sleep in this chair tonight.

"Rescue you, love?" Klaus' soft whisper tore your gaze from Henric Nikolas Mikaelson.

"I'd love to, but I'm afraid he'll wake up the moment he leaves my arms." Klaus slowly walked over to you, kneeling in front of you and gazing tenderly at the baby you held. "I guess you're going to have to come to terms with the fact that you're going to have to share me with someone else." the man rolled his eyes at the comment about his jealousy. He shifted his gaze to you and gently grabbed your hand, being careful not to let any sudden movement wake his son.

"I'll live with it as long as our kids are the only ones taking you from me."

"You are a very gracious, all-powerful hybrid." he chuckled, making a tired but genuine smile appear on your face. "Save yourself while you still can. I don't think I'm going back to bed tonight." you murmured, looking at the little usurper in your arms.

"Nonsense, you are going with me.." he lifted you from your chair with your soft, startled squeal and held you in his arms, careful not to wake your son. He carried you to the bed, making sure you were comfortable. He lay on his side, propping his head up with his hand, and stared at the two of you, spellbound. "You can sleep. I'll keep an eye on you two."

"Remember that your siblings and dad are coming tomorrow. Kol and Davina pick up Hope. And please, for God's sake, don't argue with Kol again about him being Henric's godfather, because we both know you don't want anyone else to take his place."

"Well, we always have Marcel and, God forbid, Finn. Besides, what kind of big brother would I be if I didn't torment him every chance I got?" you rolled your eyes, pressing your son to your chest, and used your free hand to grab your husband's hand.

"I just hope you didn't teach our daughter that."

"I'd be surprised if she didn't pick up on our habits herself." he murmured, kissing your hand and watching you fall into a peaceful sleep while holding your son and his hand. Your rings shone in the moonlight on your joined hands.

Yes... you were definitely belongs only to him.

[madschiavelique]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛 — 𝟏

⟢﹒ pairing : matt murdock x vigilante!reader x frank castle

⟢﹒ summary : you’d met them, became their teammate, and the one night you got severely wounded, they took you to their place to patch you up.

⟢﹒ content warnings : i am not a doctor nor do i have any knowledge on how to take care of wounds like that properly so very inaccurate patching up session, mentions of blood, wounds, mentions of needle (to saw reader’s wound), afab!reader, stubborn reader, but stubborn frank, no use of y/n, not proofread

⟢﹒ word count : 7,2k

⟢﹒ note : this is the first part of a 2shot where the second part will be a smut with hunter/prey dynamic ! have a good read <;33

⟢ next part : here

The clouds were brown tonight, covering the inky blackness of the sky like a mass of cotton gathering up the streetlights of Hell's Kitchen. Everything seemed to be reflecting off a lake, the puddles of rain from earlier in the day having settled on every rooftop in the city in a myriad of mirrors.

It was quiet, abnormally quiet even. Hell's Kitchen wasn't exactly your typical idyllic holiday destination; on the contrary, it was the place to flee if you had the chance. Crime had its patch on every street corner, and not a single day or night went by without something happening.

But now, nothing. No problems. No calls for help. Just the calm of an evening. 

Sitting on the edge of a roof, your legs dangling boredly in the air, you listened to your little radio set beside your thigh, hoping that one of the police stations would report a problem. But everything was peaceful.

It had already been a few months since you had taken on the attire of the night, taken on the role of vigilante in Hell's Kitchen, and every evening you found yourself chasing crime out of town like a broom sweeping dust out of the way.

It wasn't necessarily an easy rhythm. After an already long day at work, you usually tried to get some sleep before starting your patrol. You'd realised that although there was no particular time for crime, most of them started after midnight.

But it was already one o'clock in the morning and there was nothing to report. You wondered whether perhaps you were doing your job as a vigilante too well. If you did, this kind of evening was set to happen, because if you did eradicate every crime all at once, there wouldn't be any left for later. The bitter reassurance that, unfortunately, crime, born since the dawn of time, would only die with men, gripped your heart.

The pace of it all was sometimes exhausting, but the advantage of all this was that you weren't really working alone any more. At first, the idea of joining forces with anyone to bring justice to the world of night seemed complicated, for several reasons. 

Firstly, coordination: having team-mates implied having a certain connection so that even without words being spoken, everything ran smoothly. 

And secondly, attachment. An environment like this where every night can be your last if you don't keep a minimum of vigilance can prove destructive. It would be too painful to lose an ally, and even more so if it was your turn to leave and they found themselves grieving.

But colleagues - no, partners? Friends? Whatever, the allies you found on certain nights were probably the most resilient human beings you'd ever met, to the point where the very thought of them dying was impossible. After all, when you're working with two people who have both withstood a bullet to the head and who are sure of themselves, you can't help but feel safe - or very small and miserable in their presence.

You had met them on patrol when the sounds of banging and groans of pain could be heard in an alleyway. Immediately, you had split the sphere of your personally modified Bolas and had helped in the fight after observing the side you had to take. Recognising criminals had become like a sixth sense, but above all you had recognised Daredevil's outfit in the semi-darkness and the silhouette that appeared to be that of Frank Castle.

You were familiar with the work of both of them, had seen enough of their appearances in the newspapers and heard their actions on the radio enough to know that the two men fighting the dozen or so others below were none other than these two.

You had helped them, immobilising a man here, strangling a man of the thread of your bolas there, while the two acolytes were both taking part in the fight. It was only at the end of the latter that the barrage of questions began.

"Who are you?" was of course the first question Matt asked.

"Who do you work for?" was the first question Frank raised, naturally.

It didn't take too long for you to explain that crime was swarming around the city like cockroaches in a dirty carpet and that you wanted to clean up just like them.

Frank was suspicious, Matt was calm, and you were sweating buckets, dreading their every reaction. They weren't exactly idols to you, but you had great respect for them.

It was when Matt agreed that you were sincere and that there was nothing to fear about you that Frank relaxed a bit, without letting go of his grouchy and suspicious attitude. You'd assumed at first that Frank wouldn't appreciate such a radical change of routine that included bringing a new member into the evening vigilante group, but Matt had assured him that having one more person would allow them to be more effective.

And soon, you'd be meeting up from time to time in the evening if you were lucky enough to bump into each other. 

First, you didn't reveal your identity immediately. There was a kind of silent agreement between the three of you on the subject. Of course, Frank's identity was no longer a mystery, but Matt's remained particularly anonymous for a long time.

Once enough trust had been established for Frank not to grumble at you at every given occasion, you were officially introduced.

You learned that Matthew Murdock was a blind lawyer with very heightened senses, and that Frank Castle lived with him, taking on a series of remote jobs under a different identity since his name was not really known in a very positive way. 

You didn't see each other outside of work, often too busy with your own lives to find time to see each other, even if you didn't discuss your free time... at first anyway.

You had exchanged phone numbers, in case an emergency arose and you suddenly needed help. Your exchanges were very cordial, sending addresses or locations when help was needed or to investigate something suspicious.

The first much less professional encounter was on a more turbulent night than the others, when you were cut badly on the leg, flank and arm, with an additional cut to your lip from a punch. 

According to Matt, your costume was similar to the one he wore when he first started as Daredevil. Dark clothes, something to hide your face and combat boots, needless to say that with just these to cover you up, you were extremely vulnerable.

When the fighting stopped, you didn't even have time to wince in pain that Matt was already beside you with a glove off and removing his helmet as Frank observed the situation.

"How bad is it?" Frank had asked, tilting his head to the side as the fabric covering your body darkened with blood.

"As bad as it looks to you and feels to me," Matt sighed as his fingertips brushed the skin of your side.

"It's all right," you assured them, moving slightly away from Matt and his touch, "really, it's fine."

"Are you sure? You look like you can barely walk properly." Matt had asked, obviously knowing that no, everything wasn't all right.

Probably because he'd used that speech over and over again himself, that and the simple fact that your body looked like a cute little pinocchio with a nose extended to its ears.

"Yeah yeah, no big deal - argh!" you started before Frank put his hand on the gaping wound in your arm. “Hey!”

"No big deal, eh? If it was no big deal ya wouldn't be reacting like this."

"It's nothing, really." 

You had no idea if you sounded convincing… well, from the look on both their faces, you weren’t. Frank crossed his arms over his chest, looking you up and down as he bit the inside of his cheek.

You felt tiny under his gaze like that, barely lifting your eyes to look into his. There was a dark insistence in his stare, and you could tell he was frustrated, only whether it was about you or the situation in itself you weren't sure.

"What d’you say Red ?" he said after seconds that felt like minutes.

You turned to Matt, his gaze fixed as usual on a point in the void. But that didn't stop his eyes from being expressive, and the rest of his face reinforced them. You watched in the half-light the way his jaw muscles twitched in the lamplight and your heart fell in your stomach.

"Our flat is closer to here than hers," was what he ended up saying.

Your heart went right back up your chest as you blinked fast, frowning at the sentence he had so casually said.

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, "how do you know I'm-" but you didn't finish your own sentence before starting the next, "you followed me all the way to my place?"

Matt put both hands on his hips with a sigh, biting his lower lip before finally answering.

"We had a bit of a scare the other night when you were cut on the shoulder. We just wanted to make sure... that you got home okay."

Your lips parted in surprise, shifting then from Matt to Frank, who was looking at his feet as if the ground was far more interesting than anything he had to say at the moment. You weren't sure how to feel about that.

In a way, you found it strange that they'd followed you home without telling you anything about it, but Matt with his keen senses would probably have known where you were sooner or later. Besides, it was well-intentioned, and the sudden thought that they cared about you - no, about your state - was surprisingly heart-warming.

"In any case," Matt continued, clearing his throat, "ours is a lot closer than yours, and in your current state, you could do with some treatment when you get there."

"I'm not planning to stay the night, am I?" you laughed nervously.

"Why not?" said Frank, raising his eyebrows and his shoulders in one gesture.

From now on, victory would go to the one with the most convincing argument.

"Well, I've got work tomorrow," you began, already thinking about the pain you'd have to endure in the morning when you woke up. 

You could still feel your warm blood clinging to your clothes, and the sensation was becoming increasingly unpleasant.

"Say you're unwell, isn't far off the mark," Frank replied, pointing with a lazy wave of his hand at your body.

"But I don't have any clothes to spend the night in." You retorted, although the argument was easily contradicted by Matt's remark.

"We'll lend you some, it's no big deal," he assured you.

"I don't have a toothbrush," you retorted, as if that couldn't possibly be of any importance in this setting.

"We're not Cro-Magnons, we have backup ones," Matt laughed softly.

It was becoming a little more complicated to come up with relevant arguments. The blood loss was making you dizzy, weak, and preventing you from standing properly without grimacing every second while focusing all your attention on each cut and the intense burning sensation it gave you.

It wasn't so much that you didn't want to go, because on the contrary you found yourself enjoying their company more and more. It was simply the fact that...

"I'm afraid of imposing myself on you and bothering you." You said, looking away.

You were colleagues up to now, people who shared a common interest in justice, and you didn't mind their company. Only, you'd added to the mix completely unexpectedly. They'd already been working together before, even living together. You didn't know a great deal about their private lives and here you were, the millstone, getting hurt in the middle of a patrol and not being able to make a move without everything hurting.

You turned towards them again. The look on Frank's face was like the typical reaction of a human being who has just witnessed the greatest absurdity of all, while Matt's mouth was half-open in surprise. It almost seemed to you that saying that simple sentence had been a mistake.

"That's it, you're coming with us," Matt confirmed.

"Definitely," Frank affirmed as he approached you and placed one of his hands behind your back.

"Hey wait-" you had no say in the matter, though, as Frank's second hand came up behind your knees and lifted you off the ground.

Your hands barely grasped the back of his neck, wincing as you writhed in pain. You wouldn't have minded being carried. The fatigue of the evening weighed on each of your limbs as if they were full of lead. 

You knew how to walk, one step in front of the other like most, and the suddenness of being lifted so easily into the air felt funny. You couldn't help fidgeting, caressing the hope of finding a position more comfortable than one that made you feel every inch of your skin open to the night air.

"Stop movin’ like a chicken ‘bouta have its throat cut," Frank grumbled as the two of them started walking.

"Put it on the ground and the chicken will calm down," you breathed through clenched teeth of discomfort.

"It's not a very long walk, I promise." Matt reassured you.

You huffed, clutching the collar of Frank's jacket to prevent yourself from squeezing the back of his neck too hard and getting another remark. You were torn between the uneasiness of the stir he made with every step, which you felt in every wound, and the new comfort you found in the embrace of his arms.

You felt so... safe that way. And not just with Frank, because you felt the same sense of tranquillity with Matt. They were both involved in your life in such an unusual way and they still managed to make you feel comfortable.

You'd never been so close to him, snuggled up against him and held in his strong arms. As close as you were to his body, you could smell him. A mix of cool and warm. 

He carried the smoky but crisp scent of the night, the fresh but dark air, like the smell of a just-cut apple leaving its cool scent on the blade of the knife that has just sliced it. And all of this was strangely relieving. 

Your eyes drifted to his neck, which was inevitable considering how close you were to it. Your gaze focused on his Adam's apple, ready to be covered by his perpetual stubble, letting your eyes slide up to his marked, strong jawline. You weren't in the habit of observing someone so closely, especially when that someone was handsome. 

The journey across his face continued, passing from his full lips, to his nose bumped by the many blows he must have received in the face, to conclude this pleasant silent voyage with his eyes. Beneath a pair of stern eyebrows were two onyxes, shyly illuminated by the few street lamps on the deserted streets you were travelling through. You had seen them turn black like those of a shark that had smelled blood. 

If you didn't know that look would never be meant for you, you'd be afraid of them.

You'd spent enough time with them in combat situations to know that their rage alone could bring a man down with a look. You hoped you'd never have to pay the price of it.

But this close, you didn't feel in danger, although the very idea that such dark eyes of vengeance and bitterness and death might pass over yours made you shudder.

“You’re staring, little one,” Frank remarked, his gaze never wavering from the path in front of him.

Too embarrassed by your own behaviour, you nestled your head on his shoulder, resting your forehead on it as your neck and cheeks heated up. You felt a little foolish as you felt your heart beating frantically between your ribs, and the very idea that Matt could undoubtedly hear it made you want to be swallowed up by a hole in the ground and disappear.

When were you going to get to that bloody flat where you would - hopefully - never again have to be so close to one of them without your thoughts getting carried away ?

Your wishes were granted, as you soon found yourselves standing in front of a door that Matt habitually opened, letting Frank go first as he pressed you closer to him to get through the doorway. With a single breath, his scent invaded you more and more until, for a few moments, your thoughts were focused on nothing but him.

The sudden closeness of him made you feel your cheek brush against the nape of his neck, cool in the night air, but enough for your own skin to heat up slightly.

Internally, you were slapping yourself in the face. Now was not the time to let yourself be bewitched by your colleagues, although the fact that you would be spending the night with them would intensify those thoughts.

Your reflections kept you prisoner enough that you didn't realise until you'd climbed the stairs that you were about to enter Matt's flat. No... their flat.

This reality dropped into your stomach like a heavy stone. They're together, so don't try or think anything that might disappoint you. Tonight... It's just business. It's just help they're giving you, that's all it is.

Perhaps it was a cruel lack of affection that made you repeat all this to yourself, but whatever the case, your inner monologue gradually died down as your attention was drawn to the inside of the place.

It was big, really big for a flat, and for a moment the idea of Matt and Frank being rich occurred to you. It wasn't until Frank moved further into the living room that your eyes fell almost painfully on the neon lighting that illuminated the whole room.

And the more you looked, the more the charm of the place intensified. Of course, the neon had to be a problem. And yes, the walls had faded wallpaper and cracked paint. And maybe the windows could have done with a bit of a wipe down.

But the cosy atmosphere the flat had was delightful. The warmth that greeted you as you entered was gentle and reassuring. You noticed that there was little smell in the flat, nothing too strong at least so far. 

"On the sofa, she's already lost enough blood for the evening," Matt pointed out as he left for his kitchen.

Ah, right, Matt's senses, you almost forgot. The reason for the absence of perfume or overpowering scents in their flat was surely that it could prove abrasive on his olfactory sensitivity and generally on his senses.

Frank didn't hesitate for a moment, gently lowering you onto the leather sofa, which you felt sink under your back. The sudden change of position made you wince and whimper, the pain of your wounds hitherto camouflaged by your comfort in Frank's arms resurfacing to inflame your skin.

Frank watched you for a moment, frowning as he observed with serious eyes the dark stains that soaked through the various fabrics of your outfit. Without a word, he walked away, and a few seconds later Matt appeared in your field of vision, a bottle of amber liquid in his hand.

"We're going to need you to take off your top and trousers, do you think you can do that?"

The heat rose to your cheek, making you realise that with those wounds on your body, it was inevitable that you would end up naked if they wanted to do anything to help fix you.

You pressed your teeth into your lower lip, keeping it prisoner for a moment and grunting as the gesture made you reopen your little wound. 

"I'll try," you croaked, trying to unclench the hand that had been glued to your side until now. 

The bleeding seemed to have eased, the blood slightly caking to your hand as you pulled it free with an exhaled whimper. The sudden contact of air on your skin felt like an icy slap, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to calm yourself.

Your head tumbling back on the comfortable leather, you tried to get your hands to the sides of your T-shirt, pulling at the fabric. The material rubbed against your gaping wound, and you gritted your teeth as you breathed heavily.

Matt swallowed, clenching his jaw before kneeling in front of you.

"I can help you, if you don't mind," he offered, his hands coming to rest on your ankles as he began to remove your shoes.

Your reflex would usually have been to say no, your determination to achieve everything on your own without help from others blocking such opportunities. But the more you thought about it, the more the taste of resignation grew in your mouth.

At the rate you were going, getting undressed would take a considerable amount of time, time that Matt and Frank could probably have spent doing something more interesting than helping someone like you. So you gave in.

The blood from your split lip spilled back into your mouth, your tongue running over the cut and burning you. Wrinkling your nose in pain and breathing through your teeth, you nodded vigorously as you readjusted yourself on the sofa.

Matt sat up straight on his knees and faced you, his hands first feeling the leather of the sofa to find your thigh. He gently skimmed along the fabric, his hand brushing the wound on your thigh and making you grunt slightly.

"Sorry," he murmured softly. "The bleeding seems to have stopped," his confirmation letting his hand travel up to your waist. 

His second joined in, avoiding the path of his twin again, and finding the sides of your top.

"Can you put your arms up for me?" he asked softly.

You swallowed, chewing the inside of your cheek as you took a deep breath. Then you did the seemingly impossible by lifting your arms. Your shoulders felt like they were made of lead, and your whole body seemed to be made of nothing but aches and pains.

When the fabric and movement rubbed against the wound on your arm, which you had barely raised, your hand instinctively came to press against it, letting a small, contorted whimper escape from your lips.

Matt let out a sigh, but he didn't seem exasperated or annoyed, more concerned or sharing your pain. Just then Frank came back into the living room, a first aid kit in hand as he came up beside you.

"We're going to have to cut your shirt off," Matt warned.

You sighed, feeling deeply incapable. When did taking off a shirt become so complicated? Every cut on your body was starting to burn severely, and you felt like throwing yourself into a lake of ice water to soothe the pain.

Frank pulled the scissors out of the kit, sitting down next to you and letting the sofa sink beneath him.

"We'll get you a new one," he promised as the cold kiss of the scissor blades touched your skin for a moment near the wound on your arm, bringing a short-lived respite.

Frank tugged at the fabric to pull it away from your skin, then after a few scissor strokes tore the material of your t-shirt as if it were paper with a sharp tear.

The cold skin of his fingers, still covered in the cool of the outside air, came to rest on your skin, and it was as if night met day, as the moon touched the sun with its fingertips, illuminating each of its craters and cuts.

Meanwhile, Matt unbuckled your belt gently, unbuttoning your trouser button at the same time and pulling on the fly until his fingers brushed the birth of...

"Sorry about the whisky but we didn't have anything else," he said apologetically as he took hold of the edges of your trousers.

"Aren't you guys sponsored by first aid kits at this point?" you asked through clenched teeth.

Waiting for Frank to move the scissors away from your skin, you raised your pelvis so that Matt could slide your trousers down more easily. 

"There hasn't been any disinfectant in any of them since last night," he explained with a small smile.

The scene was strangely intimate, Frank's hot breath spreading across the back of your neck as he cut off your shirt, and Matt's hands sliding your trousers down your thighs.

You couldn't help but let out a grunt as the fabric of your pant leg brushed against the wound on your thigh, though Matt was doing his best not to cause you any discomfort, whispering small apologies as he did so.

You then realised the context of all this, and the heat rose to your cheeks when Frank threw the last shred of your old T-shirt somewhere in the background: you were in your underwear in front of them.

For a moment, their fingers on your body felt much less professional. The passage of their digits over your skin left behind a trail of sparkling powder underneath.

Placing a towel under your thigh, Matt indicated to Frank the bottle of alcohol which he uncorked.

"This might sting a bit," Matt advised just before Frank started pouring the cool liquid over the wound on your arm.

You stifled a muffled gasp, your thighs trembling slightly from the heat of your wounds. Matt's face scrunched up, his hands resting on your thighs in the hope of easing your pain or distracting you from the excruciating sensation you were going through. As for Frank, he didn't seem to give a damn, his face filled with his constant annoyed neutrality.

You had wondered several times whether Frank hated you, or whether it was difficult for him to stand you. Whatever the case, he didn't seem to have you in his heart. Maybe it was mistrust, but whatever the reason, he seemed irascible towards you.

He continued to pour the contents of the bottle quite generously onto your side, your eyelids closing so tightly that you felt you were seeing stars. You gritted your teeth so hard that for a moment they cut off your hearing, then released the tension.

"It's almost done," Matt murmured in the hope of encouraging you.

Frank ended up cleaning your trembling thigh. You brought your hand, closed into a fist, up to your mouth, biting the skin of one of your fingers to channel the pain.

Your head jerked back, breathing heavily as tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. The worst had undoubtedly just passed.

You heard them rummaging around in the kit, and as you straightened your head, you saw them pulling out needle and thread.

"No pain killers," you managed to say as your mouth felt almost pasty.

Frank chuckled, preparing the needle properly.

"Gotta get this done first, no painkillers for your princess ass now."

You let out a half-sigh, half-laugh.

"Silly me to assume you'd care." you mumbled, already feeling the discomfort from the alcohol on your gaping skin soften.

"It' all be over soon," Matt asserted, his thumb running over the skin of your thigh.

"And I who was looking forward to living in agony for the rest of my life,' you breathed.

Frank brought one of the armchairs closer to the sofa, needle in hand.

"Gon try and be gentle, softy." he added, the little nickname making you scoff.

"No, Frank, being gentle isn't your area of excellence. You shine mainly in murder and mutilation."

He raised his eyes to yours, still red and wet from your previous pain and reflecting the famous 'gentleness' he had shown in his actions. He frowned, but this gesture was unexpectedly accompanied by a smile mixing surprise and amusement, stretching his face in a way you'd never seen from him before.

He brought the needle up to your thigh, grasping the skin with his large hand as firmly as gently. He pierced it, making you wince at the sensation. 

"Just gonna pretend I didn't hear that," he finally said, his concentration seemingly unwavering.

But the simple idea of saying this when this same man was stitching you up at the moment only enchanted you for a short moment. He had a needle in his hand that he could very well stick anywhere but in the wound that needed to be closed. And although it was an immensely small needle, you were well aware that anything can become a deadly weapon if you have the will to use it. 

So you said nothing, letting that little irritation fade away as you let yourself be stitched up. The pain was bearable in the end, nothing too horrible. It was better than going home and cauterising the whole thing with your straightening iron.

Now that the pain was more bearable, your attention eventually drifted to something other than that feeling, and more to the rest. The feel of their fingers on your body brought a whole new sensory experience, causing a warm cloud to settle in your belly.

Matt straightened up, your thigh already missing the presence of his hand on it. He sat down beside you, his fingers brushing your arm without injury.

"Your lip's cut," he remarked.

"It's not the worst thing on the menu," you laughed nervously, immediately regretting your gesture as your smile stretched your lip and reopened it again.

He fumbled for the kit, taking a cotton ball and grabbing the bottle to soak it in.

"Here," he said, his hand coming to take your chin tenderly and turning it towards him.

He pressed the wet cotton to your wound, and you hissed as your nose wrinkled in pain.

"It might sting a bit when you drink," he murmured.

The proximity gripped your heart, Matt's face close enough to yours that you felt his breath hit your skin gently and evenly. You tried to calm your racing heart in your chest, swallowing as you let him finish disinfecting your lip.

You took the opportunity to watch him more closely, to see the way his stubble ran gracefully across his jaw, the way his brown eyes watching the empty space were full of softness, the way his lips, which you were used to seeing outside the mask, were full and pink.

He seemed incredibly gentle, and if you didn't spend some nights a week in his company fighting crime, you'd never have bet he was fighting like the devil himself: unleashed, full of rage, the taste of revenge and the desire for a better balance blinding him beyond measure.

"You'll take our bed," Matt said, Frank just finishing stitching up your thigh.

You immediately frowned, your lips parting.

"Since I'm on the couch I might just stay on it," you laughed nervously as Frank moved to the wound on your waist.

His hand grabbed your hip and pulled you to the edge of the sofa, looking up at you: 

"Sit straight and still," he says in a tone calm but firm enough to convince you that he wouldn't repeat that command twice.

You straighten up slightly, letting him come and stitch up the wound in your side.

"Of the three of us, you're clearly the one who needs comfort and rest the most, not us," Matt continued, placing the now useless cotton wool on the table.

"I can assure you that I've rarely been on a sofa as comfortable as this one," you added.

You'd invite yourself into their home unannounced, they'd take care of you, and on top of that they'd make you sleep in their bed while they slept elsewhere?

"Do we really have to drag you there?" asked Frank, tugging at the thread.

"And let me squirm and ruin all your previous efforts on my wounds?" you huffed as you looked into his eyes, a muscle near your eye twitching as Frank continued his work. "I'd ruin your sheets, that's really not necessary."

"Listen-" Matt started, but you stopped him.

"No," you assured him, turning to him, "and anyway I can already feel sleep stalking me."

Frank breathed in as he opened his lips to speak and contradict you again, but you stopped him.

"Really," you assured him, "I'll take the sofa."

Frank bit his cheek in irritation, obviously not so happy to know that someone in this town shared being so stubborn. He turned to Matt, who also didn't seem to be enjoying the situation any more than that.

"Alright, but there's no way I'm going to hear you complain as soon as you wake up, is that clear?" finished Frank as he tied the thread over the cut in your abdomen.

"Scout's honour," you sighed.

As Frank started your last cut, Matt got up and went to the kitchen to get a glass. He filled it with water, while you and Frank seemed to be engaged in a stare-down between two obstinate, stubborn people.

"Thanks Matty," you thanked sincerely, taking the two delicious items in your hand.

He seemed surprised by the nickname, a nervous chuckle forming a smile on his lips.

"I'll grab you some clothes," he replied as he left for their shared room and began the process of changing his costume.

You placed the tablet on your tongue, then brought the glass to your lips. As promised, it stung. A cloud of red diluted on the contact with your lips, and as you observed it you wondered how you would justify it to your boss.

You sighed, reminding yourself that you should email them first thing in the morning to let them know you were absent. All you had to do the next day was explain that you'd been attacked in the street for stealing your bag, but you'd managed to get away, and that in a state of shock you didn't feel like coming to work the next day. This would probably do.

Frank finished stitching you up fairly quickly, and when he cut the last thread he still looked at you with that annoyed look he never seemed to shake off.

"Thank you, Frankie" you thanked, using the nickname in a more playful tone than you had with Matt.

He let out a single sharp breath from his lungs before getting up and leaving in his turn for the bedroom, from which Matt emerged in much more... normal clothes.

It was the first time you'd seen him in civilian attire, in a simple hoodie and jogging bottoms. Your eyes went wide, your mouth half-open for a moment, and you had to blink several times to pull yourself together.

"Here," he said, placing the pile of clothes next to you on the sofa. "Do you think you can stand this time?" 

Now that the adrenaline had worn off, and everything else didn't burn as much as if hell itself had invited itself under your skin, you tried to stand up. You wanted to avoid any sudden movements, but eventually, with a bit of effort, you managed to straighten up and start pushing on your legs to get up.

Your knees trembled slightly from the stress and everything else that had gone with it during the night, and just as you thought you'd be sprawled out on the floor in the next few seconds, tasting the parquet floor, Matt grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him.

"Hey, take it easy little fawn, we don't need you damaging your nose on top of everything else," he laughed as he steadied you, letting your legs wobble a little more before you felt comfortable enough to stand.

Your whole body hurt like hell. And no wonder: in addition to your various cuts from the evening, your body was dotted with clouds of bruises that would make all the blueberries jealous of their colour.

"Let me help you," he finally smiled gently as he picked up the T-shirt from the pile.

He helped you into the top, taking care not to let the fabric come into contact with your freshly stitched skin.

"I'll need to borrow one of your shirts tomorrow when I leave," you said with a small smile, "mine's had a bit of a problem."

Matt laughed softly as he poked his head into your top. " May it rest in pieces."

You laughed softly at his little joke, slipping the rest on and feeling his hands roam over your covered skin, the size of the t-shirt far too big for you and reaching the top of your thighs.

Matt lowered himself to his knees in front of you, and you looked down at him as he rolled up the sweatpants so he could slip them around your ankle, guiding your hand over his shoulder so you could find some support.

The vision was heady, taking hold of your heart like an intoxicating scent you want to chase down so you can bury your whole face in it and never leave. You wanted to run your fingers through his hair, to let them get lost in its meanders, to let your nails graze his skull before tugging lightly on it... 

But you pulled yourself together, the thought once again creating a warm cloud in your lower belly as he straightened up and pulled the fabric up your legs, his fingers brushing your skin as if you were a statue forbidden to be touched.

"You're gonna have to see that with Frank though," he said as he tied the two laces around your waist, "it's his shirt."

That's how the same smell you'd first smelled when you were in his arms came back to mind, but you remained stoic, preventing yourself from grabbing the collar of the shirt and bringing it up to your nose.

"Challenge of the year," you sighed, smiling though, "thank you. For all of this."

"That's normal, it would be a shame if our partner found herself unable to exercise," he reassured you.

The word sent a shiver up your spine and into your cheeks.

"Red?" called Frank from the bedroom.

"Coming," he answered over his shoulder before turning away from you.

You sat back down on the sofa, tiredness beginning to weigh heavily on your eyelids. You lay down, the multiple events of the evening knocking you out more easily than any sleeping pill. 

You had no trouble falling asleep, even with the neon lights on, even without a blanket, and even when the two of them came back into the room.

When you woke up, your back felt like it was sinking into a cloud. The surface you were lying on was soft, and when you turned on your side, your hand came to rest on a material that was not at all like the leather of the sofa: silk.

You propped yourself up gently on one elbow, observing the place you were in, and that's when you realised: they'd moved you into their bed while you were asleep.

"Bastards," you muttered, and bit your cheek to stop the little smile forming on your lips from breaking out.

A funny feeling sprang up in your heart, making it light and rosy. But that feeling quickly faded as you sat up straighter and your whole body ached. You felt like you'd just come out of a washing machine, all tossed and turned.

You stood up, trying to stretch but stopping immediately when the pain from your stitched-up cuts threatened to reopen. You didn't want to mess up their clothes, you'd probably never forgive yourself if that happened.

You came out of the bedroom and found Frank and Matt talking in the kitchen. Matt turned to you, sending you a smile.

"Good morning," he offered.

You were limping lightly, and bent slightly, walking slowly towards them through fatigue and pain.

"At last the groundhog graces us with her presence," Frank grumbled, turning to you.

"Am I rather not a sleeping beauty ?" you returned with a smile, "I wonder if sleeping beaty had a breakfast date when she woke up. I mean, look at me this is such a tempting offer," you said as your posture could easily have been a cross between an old lady and a pregnant woman, leaning on your hip, alternating between the curve of your back and the arch of it, making your whole body crack into a grimace of relief.

But surprisingly, they both smiled at your joke, and the awkward silence you might have expected or the abrupt change of subject to move on never came. But that didn't stop you from apologising on the spot.

"I'm sorry, I don't want my words to sound inappropriate, but I know that you two... well, you're..." together was the word you were looking for, but your fingers pinched the bridge of your nose. 

Try again, you thought. You'll end up rowing champion if you keep paddling like that. But Matt immediately reassured you.

"There's nothing to worry about, and besides, on my side you have to be forgiving when you don't have the 'pause' button."

Right, you thought, even though the heat was rising to your cheeks and neck enough for your cool hand to come and rest on it, massaging it nervously.

"I find you singularly witty, Red," Frank said, arms folded across his chest.

Of course, there was nothing new under the sun about Frank. His sharp tone brought you back to solid ground in no time.

"How are the wounds?" he asked as he turned to you, his eyes lingering for a moment on the fact that you were wearing his shirt.

"Very well," you assured him as you lifted the sides of your shirt to show the one on your side and the one on your arm, turning back to him, "I think the blue really brings out my eyes, don't you?"

He smirked, and you couldn't quite work out whether it was genuine annoyance or amusement. It all seemed a bit too perfect, and that's when it hit you.

"Fuck!" you exclaimed, looking for where they'd put your trousers where your phone was.

"What is it?" asked Matt.

"My boss," you said, searching the hallway and finding your trousers there, "I didn't tell him-"

"We called him this morning," pointed out Frank.

You stopped in your tracks, turning back to them.

"You what ?" you questioned.

"We called him," Matt informed, "we told him that we were close to you and that after you were mugged last night in the street you decided to stay home for the day out of shock."

"You-"

"It's all sorted, you don't need to worry," Frank grunted, taking his drink in hand, surely in search for you to shut up and let him enjoy his morning cup of coffee.

You stood there like a houseplant in the middle of the living room, and Matt invited you to take a seat for breakfast. Bemused, you took a seat and the three of you ate and chatted for a while.

Matt mentioned taking you to see a guy he knew so that he could cover you up with something other than such a simplistic and obviously flimsy outfit that could put you in danger again.

And after breakfast, you left at the same time as Matt, who was leaving for work. You said your final goodbyes and went your separate ways.

Little did you know the proximity of last night would change many things.

⟢ next part : here

[luxthestrange]

KNY Incorrect quotes#38 Line to Hell

Muzan: There's a special section in hell reserved for you

Hashira!Y/n*Who has been dressing Kokushibo like Yorichii for kicks*That's good, I'd hate to wait in line~

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

taking what's not yours - f. castle & m. murdock

a/n: ALRIGHT ITS FINALLY DONE uhhh sorry this has no smut i was just goofing and wanted to write something cute with our two favorites and you guys seemed to really want this one so! i have no regrets actually! im gonna go take a nap now warnings: polyamorous relationships, frank has nightmares, reader is autistic, reader has an oral fixation/biting problem, nosebleeds/blood, crying, cursing, lots of cute nicknames, talks of death, some sexual comments, lots of kissing and fluff word count: 3.2k comments and feedback are always appreciated <3 summary: a week in the life of a relationship with frank castle and matt murdock, your two favorite vigilantes. pairing: frank castle x autistic!gn!reader x matt murdock now playing: taking what's not yours - tv girl "you know where to find me/and i know where to look"

Soft country music from before country music as a genre went modern and became what it is today plays from the radio Frank insists on keeping on while he cooks dinner. His flannel is tight around his chest and the sleeves are rolled up as he brings a spoon to his mouth, tasting the sauce he’s been preparing for the past few hours. He adds more pepper.

The door opens from across the apartment, and all he hears is, “Frank! Tell Matt to stop being mean to me!” You and Matt make your way through the apartment after taking off your shoes and coats, Matt loosening his tie as he follows you into the kitchen. Frank turns when you step into the kitchen, immediately moving over to him and finding your place in the crook of his arm.

“Red bein’ mean to you, honey?” Frank asks as he kisses the top of your head, grinning at Matt as he huffs, standing with his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter if it’s handsome if he’s so mean, does it?” You ask.

“No, it doesn’t,” He grins, and you stick your tongue out to Matt playfully, and he mimics you before going over to Frank and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Hi.” The lawyer hums, happy to be back home with his two favorite people.

“Hi.” Frank grins, unsure of how serious you are about Matt being mean to him. “What’s going on, why are you being mean?” Matt raises an eyebrow at you, unhappy with your running to Frank.

“Can’t just run to daddy to fix your problems, pup.” He accuses, and you scoff. His words are playful, but your face is red at the call out.

“You know what, Murdock—”

“Hey! Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Frank cuts in, and Matt tilts his head in your direction, and you quietly plead for Matt not to tell on you, and--

“They bit me.” Frank sighs at his words.

“I was being affectionate!” You immediately go into defense mode, ducking out of Frank’s arm, trying to casually walk off from the pair towards the fridge, only for Matt to grab your arm, pulling you between the two men, your back against Frank’s chest, face to face with Matt.

“You cannot bite people, pup.” Matt says, and you frown.

“I like biting people—”

“That’s a problem!” Frank’s words attempt to be serious, but they’re coated by a soft laugh as his hands, rough from a long day of working blue collar, rub up and down your arms.

“See? You’re getting Frank to agree with me, do you know how hard that is to do?” Matt hums, and you tilt your head.

“What? You love Frank, it’s actually kind of gross—”

“It is gross isn’t it?” Matt asks teasingly, leaning up to kiss Frank again. You roll your eyes at the fact that you’re being reprimanded by your boyfriends, sandwiched between them, forced to deal with the consequences of your actions. “But I’m being serious, okay?”

“Matty,” Your head leans back against Frank’s chest, “I don’t bite anyone who isn’t you or Frank..”

Alright, let’s level with each other—Frank and Matt are well aware of the fact that you’re neurodivergent. You get overstimulated with loud, crowded situations very easily, you struggle to understand jokes a lot, and you once told them that in middle school, you became so hyper fixated on waffles to the point where you ate them for breakfast and lunch most days, practically begging your mom to let you have it for dinner most nights (She let you have them once a month) and then, after fourteenth months, you stopped. You have not been able to eat a waffle since.

The point is the two men you’re sandwiched between are no strangers to your neurodivergence. They know it’s stimulating in the best way to chew or suck on something, your oral fixation coming back with a vengeance after you tried to repress it for so long. You chew on everything. You chew on the strands of your hoodies, you chew on your sleeves, you chew on ice, gum, you chew on your boyfriends, and you chew on your cheeks to the point where you draw blood, which always gets Matt to scold you, because he can smell the coppery blood from his place across the room, and immediately tells Frank.

Matt Murdock is a little tattletale.

“We’ll figure it out, okay?” Frank hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “We’ll get you something to chew on—”

“What, like a chew toy? That’s embarrassing,” you groan, and Matt just laughs a bit, leaning in to oppress a kiss to the shoulder that Frank is not leaning on.

“Then stop biting, pup.”

You pause, contemplating the options you have. Fix your biting issue or have Matt and Frank fix it for you. Honestly, you don’t think you have the neurotypical willpower to fix this problem, so you go,

“Okay, fine. You guys have my permission to do what you want to fix it.” You huff. Frank presses a kiss to your cheek while Matt presses a kiss to the other. You feel the smirks against your skin, and you realize what’s happening before you can run, “Wait, no, I swear to god—” Matt picks up your legs with ease as Frank secures his arms around your torso, the pair beginning to carry you to the couch. You groan as they throw you onto the leather couch, landing with a huff. “You’re both awful.”

Matt leans down and bites your shoulder.

“Doesn’t feel good, does it?”

“Jokes on you, Daredevil, I’m into that—” You feel Frank sink his teeth into your arm.

“Wrong answer.” Matt responds for him.

//

Later that night, after dinner, you’re laying against Matt, your legs resting in Frank’s lap. You’re listening to music, and the environment is very relaxed, none of you are particularly on edge. Matt’s fingers are resting in your mouth. You relax like this a lot, just sucking his fingers gently. You’re absentmindedly just sucking on his fingers when you bite down on them—It’s not an accident, and Matt would call you out on it if you lied.

So when you bite down, not entirely consciously, he huffs, “With the biting, baby, come on,” he softly condemns, and remembering your deal, Frank gets up with a sigh, patting your leg before he got up and headed to the kitchen. You’re confused for a second before Matt’s nose twitches with recognition, so he grabs your shoulder and pulls you close, his hand finding your cheeks and squeezing your mouth so that it’s in an ‘o’ shape.

Frank approaches you with a spoon and a jar of peanut butter, and your eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and the rest of your features are squished by Matt’s hands. Frank scoops a big wad of peanut butter onto the spoon before sticking it in your mouth. You’re confused, as Matt’s hand leaves your face, as you begin munching on the peanut butter.

You take a while to eat the peanut butter, quietly enjoying the taste while enjoying how long you’re keeping yourself busy, since it’s taking a long time to work down the peanut butter due to how sticky it is in the roof of your mouth. When you’re done licking and enjoying the taste of the peanut butter, you look to Frank.

“What was that for?”

“Well, it kept you busy from biting, didn’t it?” He grinned. Your face is flushed as you hand him the spoon.

“Can I have some more?”

Frank chuckles and kisses you quick.

“Sure, honey.”

//

A few nights later, Frank sits on the couch of the apartment, the windows open wide as he listens to the howling wind outside. He’s waiting. Waiting for what, he doesn’t know. His skin is still hot, trying to relax after waking up from a nightmare. It’s always the same. Maria and his children, always dying in his arms. Always sitting at the kitchen table, always with you and Matt, always dead.

The chill that comes in from the window is enough to make him feel alive through as he quietly waits for Matt to get back. He’s in an old tee shirt and sweatpants, flicking his lighter on and off in the quiet as he tries to focus on something that isn’t the idea of the pair of you dead, dead like his wife, dead like his kids, dead dead dead—

“Frank? What are you doing up?” Matt’s soft voice echoes through the apartment, and his head tilts softly. He goes over to the couch, still in his full Daredevil suit. Frank stands up and goes over to him by the window, pulling off his cowl just to look at his face. His hand lands gently on Matt’s face, his thumb rubbing gently on the scars that surround Matt’s eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Matt catches the lie and does not call him out.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Frank’s jaw hardens, and even though Matt cannot see, he avoids his gaze. And in a moment of pure vulnerability, he wraps his arms around Matt, holding him close. Matt’s hand gently runs up and down his spine, trying to comfort him. After a few moments of quiet, he asks, “Do you want me to wake them up?” You were always better at making people feel better than Matt was—Especially Frank.

“Nah.. No point..” He says quietly. After a few more minutes of quiet, he feels another pair of arms wrap around him from behind, your chest against his back. You press soft kisses onto the back of his shoulders.

“Too late.” Matt hums. You’re wearing an old tee shirt of Frank’s, a pair of boxers you bought for yourself and a pair of Matt’s fuzzy socks. You stay there for a little while, sleepily hugging Frank, comforting him. Your eyes grow heavy, and slowly, you fall asleep against him, just for a moment. Then, Frank picks you up, and you wake up again, tired.

“What? What’s going on?” You ask him, and he just smiles down to you.

“We’re gonna go to bed while Red showers, and he’ll be right back.” He tells you, gently placing you on the bed. You yawn as Frank crawls into bed, and you find yourself on top of him, your legs tangled with his. You listen to Matt shower and fall asleep waiting for him to come join you. 

He comes back out with his hair wet, in just his sweatpants. He tucks himself into bed, his arms around Frank, as you sprawl out on top of them, desperately needing to be close to both. Frank is nowhere near tired. Matt knows that, and just gently kisses his hair and the back of his neck.

“You need sleep.”

“You ain’t the boss of me, red.” He grumbles, and you hush them harshly, causing them to both laugh a little bit. Matt slowly falls asleep, trying to stay awake to comfort Frank, but he’s spent his entire night beating the shit out of goons and criminals, so he’s absolutely spent. Frank tilts his head and presses another kiss to his lips. “Go to bed, I’ll be okay.” Matt wants to protest but he just buries his face in the crook of his neck.

Frank’s hands gently trail your torso a bit. His hands are rough and sort of cold, but they just explore your back as he attempts to find sleep. It’s a fruitless venture, but he doesn’t mind. He’s okay with just listening to the pair of you breathing. 

//

“Are you two wearing my flannels?” Frank has about seven flannels, and he has four in the wash and one that has a tear waiting to be fixed, so he’s looking for his spare two when he finds you painting Matt’s nails on the floor of the apartment. You’re painting Matt’s nails a nice shade of dark red, with little hearts in a lighter pink.

That had taken a lot of convincing, really, but once you had agreed not to bite him all day, he reluctantly agrees to let you paint his nails, desperately wanting to be good at something and be focused on one thing for more than twenty minutes.

Periodically, Matt’s foot will tap against your back, reminding you to adjust your posture as you work on your masterpiece. He just got done with a big court case, so he tells you he’ll maintain your artwork for at least a few days. But yeah, you two are most definitely wearing Frank’s last two flannels.

“They’re comfy,” You defend, focusing on your work. Matt’s foot taps against your tailbone to remind you to straighten your back.

Really, Frank doesn’t mind. But he enjoys fucking with the two of you, so he just smirks and sits behind the pair of you. ‘

“But they’re my clothes—”  

“Well, you should have thought about that before you left them out, Frank.” Matt smirks, knowing exactly what he’s up to.

“Besides, look how good Matt looks in your clothes!” You hum, leaning over to nudge him gently, a grin on your face. You finish up Matt’s nails, capping up the nail polish as Matt begins gently blowing in his nails to get them to dry faster. Then, you wipe your nose, thinking it’s running, and when you pull away, you see a swipe of blood on Frank’s warm flannel. Oh, fuck.

With his slightly wet nails, Matt’s movements are not nearly as quick as he would have liked as he smells the blood before the gushing really starts, ripping off a paper towel and quickly holding it under your nose, and you take it from him to hold it there as he stands up, going to get something softer like a tissue or toilet paper to pack your nose—

You hold the paper towel to your nose, and guilt already starts to eat at you, as hot tears fill your eyes and then you feel silly because you think Frank might think you’re overreacting, but you just find his hands on your shoulders as he says,

“Hey, hey, why are we crying?” And you feel even sillier.

“I ruined your flannel.”

Frank had been covered in blood more times than he could count, as has Matt—their bodies are riddled with scars, head to toe, bullet and stab wounds echoing over the rough skin of both men, mostly faded now, but Frank is no stranger to blood—It doesn’t even bother him anymore, and Matt can’t see anyways, so what does he care about the sight of blood?

But you, who cannot kill the bugs that find their ways into your apartment, who gasps and covers their mouth when you accidentally curse in church (Matt always laughs, the dick), who orders the same lunch every day and has been unable to drink anything that wasn’t ice water, are horrified at a swipe of blood on a stolen flannel.

“Oh, no, honey, you didn’t ruin anything,” He shakes his head, and gently tugs at the flannel that hangs on your arms, “Come on, let me get this off,” The Punisher’s voice is gentle, a type of gentle reserved just for you, one that the countless skeletons in his closet, all with a bullet in their skulls, do not know and could not possibly perceive. You allow him to slip the flannel off, as Matt comes back with a rolled-up tissue, before sitting in front of you, kneeling as if he’s at mass—

“Lean your head forward for me,” he asks, his hand on the side of your head, and you do, taking the paper towel away, just for Matt to gently push that bundled up piece of tissue into your nose, to get it to stop bleeding.

Your boys, they are experts at getting things to stop bleeding.

At least Matt’s nails look really nice.

Frank throws the flannel in the wash, along with the rest of your laundry, and you find yourself sandwiched between them, the perfect amount of squeezing happening on either side of you, the same affect a weighted blanket would have on you. Your hot tears roll still, quietly betraying you, as the pads of Frank’s rough fingers come up to wipe them away, and Matt’s thumb finds it’s place sitting between your lips.

You sit like this for a while—Frank pressed up against you, Matt in his flannel and you, gushing blood from your nose, packed tight with tissues, and Matt’s thumb as your favorite stim toy.

//

A few days later, you’re just decompressing from work—Your bones ache, and you’re waiting for Matt to get home, wanting to satisfy that oral fixation, as if it’s the worst craving you’ve ever had. Sensing your restlessness, Frank puts a small package in front of you. You raise your eyebrow, and look at him, skeptical.

“Is it a bomb?” He scoffs and chuckles a bit.

“Open the damn package.” His voice is laced with the smirk that sits on his face, not mad, not upset, not at all judging. Your fingers peel back the packaging, and when you’re done unwrapping, you’re left with a soft necklace, and a blue, rubber moon. You look to him curiously. “It’s uh,” he leans down so his forearms are keeping him up against the counter. “You chew on it. You’re not gonna stop bitin’ or sucking on stuff, so, you might as well bite something that isn’t human.” He tells you.

In truth, Frank had spent all damn day scrolling on your laptop, looking for the perfect fix to your problem, and grew frustrated when he realized that all the stim toys were marketed towards young boys who had the privilege of getting a diagnosis young (living with and loving two people with disabilities, as well as having horrible PTSD, has radicalized Frank Castle).

You grin when you hear his explanation, getting up and going to him, resting your hands on his shoulders before leaning up and kissing him softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Honey.”

From across the apartment, you hear the door open, and a voice calls out,

“Are you guys cheating on me? You know I can hear you across the apartment, right?” Matt’s voice calls out, and you laugh, as Frank just smiles.

“Yes, I can, Red,” He says back, before leaning in to kiss you again.

//

Your eyes are heavy with sleep as you spot Matt, laying across the couch, looking like a god damn renaissance painting. He’s so hot. You find yourself walking over to him, dropping your new necklace on the coffee table, as you climb on top of him,  finding yourself literally acting like a blanket, burying your face in his neck as his hand comes up to, like usual, let you gently suck on his fingers.

Frank rolls his eyes when he sees the pair of you cuddling, and just shakes his head when he sees the stim toy abandoned on the table. He takes out his phone and takes a picture of the pair of you, Matt just in his briefs, and you in your entire pajama ensemble.

The apartment is full of a gentle silence, as Frank watches the pair of you sleep, quietly thankful that he kept living.

[cloudy-em]

Howl Pendragon Fluff Headcanons

❁ Howl is incredibly loving. He is kind, caring, loyal, a bit overdramatic, and simply an amazing man to have around.

❁ One of his favorite ways to show you love is to give gifts. And I mean he makes it his sole purpose to spoil you. Love to read? Whoops, suddenly the castle has a library. Enjoy nature? He's taking you out to see the most beautiful waterfalls he knows of.

❁ He wants you to see yourself as he sees you; like starlight. He'll try everything he can to turn you into a real narcissus. Not in a "bad" way; he just wants you to know exactly how stunning you and your soul are.

❁ Howl also loves to show you off. He walks proudly around as though parading you around with your arms hooked, your hand resting just in the crook of his elbow as he leans his head down to whisper something to you.

❁ While you're shopping for bread and speaking politely with a vendor, Howl suddenly runs his hand down your bicep. When you turn around, he's bowing and offering you a flower that he bought from a nearby stand. You blush (and he takes great pride in this) and accept his gift, and when you do, he gently lifts your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

❁ I personally have an idea in which Howl gifts you books and puts folded pieces of paper between the pages to point out the quotes he thinks describe you. (Would anybody read? Please comment or send an ask!)

[chvoswxtch]

first date

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: frank finally asks you out on a date.

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 6.7k

a/n: y'all have only been waiting seventeen chapters for these two to finally go on a date, but the moment has arrived! i'd like to give a shoutout to the main character of this chapter: frank's belt. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Before you could even think about getting out of Frank’s truck and heading inside the Bulletin, his large hand reached over to grasp your own that was in your lap, giving it a gentle squeeze to capture your attention. When you turned to look back at him, there was a nervous glint in his eye. Nervous was not an emotion you were used to seeing Frank wear. As a matter of fact, you weren’t sure you had ever seen it, and it triggered your own nerves in response.

“I wanna ask you somethin’.”

“Okay.”

Despite the softness of your tone, your voice seemed to echo in the confined space of his truck. The way Frank’s warm brown eyes were darting back and forth between your own made it apparent that he seemed to be struggling with whatever it was that he wanted to ask. To soothe him, you turned your palm over in his large hand so that you could lace your fingers together and lightly stroked your thumb along one of his scarred knuckles affectionately. After an agonizing moment of tense silence, he let out a deep exhale through his nose and his rough voice broke through the quietness that had settled.

“What are you doin’ Saturday night?”

When the implication behind his question clicked in your head, a huge grin instantly split your lips completely apart to the point that your cheeks ached, and your eyes lit up with pure excitement. Tilting your head to the side a bit in a teasing manner, you faintly narrowed your eyes into a look of faux suspicion.

“Frank Castle, are you asking me out on a date?”

Frank blew out a puff of air as he turned his head to look out the windshield, letting out a quiet chuckle as the edge of his lips quirked up in a crooked half smile. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and when he turned to look at you again, his gaze flickered between your lips and your eager stare.

“Tryin’ to.”

Sinking your top teeth down into your bottom lip, you turned your body completely in the passenger seat so that you were facing Frank, still holding his hand in your lap while you sat up straight. As you looked over at him expectantly, Frank cocked one of his dark brows in silent questioning, prompting you to arch one of your own in response.

“Well, go on.”

“Go on, what?”

“Ask me.”

“I just did.”

“No, you said you wanted to. I didn’t hear a formal query.”

Frank rolled his eyes as he let his head fall back against the headrest, shaking it slightly while he let out a lighthearted scoff.

“You don’t ever make anythin’ easy, do ya?”

“I thought you figured that out by now.”

Frank clicked his tongue against his cheek, but you could see how hard he was fighting his amusement by the way the corners of his mouth twitched. Letting out an impatient huff, you rolled your own eyes and squeezed his hand to get him to look at you.

“Oh come on, do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? I want the whole experience.” 

That got Frank’s attention. Turning his head to look at you, his thick brows rose up his forehead a bit, but only for a moment. His gaze then tapered while a cocky smirk lifted the left corner of his mouth upwards, and he motioned in your direction with his chin.

“How long?”

Heat abruptly flushed in your cheeks when your brain caught up with the confession your mouth let slip. Narrowing your own eyes at Frank, you let go of his hand and crossed your arms over your chest defiantly.

“You have thirty seconds before I get out of this truck.”

Frank chuckled deeply, causing light crinkles to fan around his eye sockets, and the unfiltered joy on his face made your heart feel like it was going to burst out of your chest. It never failed to amaze you how different Frank looked when he smiled. It was almost like looking at an entirely different person. One that wasn’t haunted by a separate lifetime of trauma and unbearable loss. He finally lifted his large hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright, alright.”

Twisting in his seat to face you, Frank brought his arm over to slide along the headrest next to you, and he slipped his thick fingers into your hair, moving them downwards until he could brush the rough pad of his thumb along your cheekbone delicately.

“Sweetheart, can I take ya out Saturday night?”

Almost instinctively, you melted into Frank’s touch, your cheek finding its home within his palm. There was a boyish grin on his lips, and you were tempted to climb across the space between you and straddle his lap so you could taste them. A sense of giddiness was fluttering in your stomach, and a smile born of pure happiness was strewn across your mouth.

“It’s a date.”

»»———　　———««

Frank was the epitome of a perfect gentleman. He showed up at your door five minutes early, although you had a slight suspicion he had been lingering in your hallway for far longer than that, and he had a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. Either you didn’t remember telling him what your favorite flower was, or Frank just really knew you. It was a simple, perhaps old fashioned gesture, but it warmed your heart. No one had ever gotten you flowers before, except for your mom.

To your surprise, Frank wore a black tie with his navy blue button down that was tucked into his dark jeans, and even threw a black blazer on top. You hadn’t seen him this dressed up since the night of the gala. It was kind of odd seeing him look so cleaned up. 

The restaurant he took you to had to be one of the nicest places you had ever stepped foot in. It looked like one of those places that charged you just to breathe their air, and you felt severely underdressed in the simple black dress you wore, even though Frank had complimented it at least three times on the walk over. 

A pristine white cloth was draped over the square table complete with the most shiny silverware you had ever seen resting on opposite sides of an eggshell colored plate. In the middle of the table was a small glass half sphere that had an ivory tinted tea light candle inside, creating an ambient glow in the dim lighting. Continuing the chivalry, Frank pulled out your chair for you and you quietly thanked him before he rounded the table to take his own seat. Your eyes were quickly drawn to the floor to ceiling grand windows to your right that had a breathtaking view of the Brooklyn Bridge all lit up. It was the perfect romantic backdrop.

But it wasn’t you.

And it wasn’t Frank.

He couldn’t sit still. He was shifty, tugging at the black tie around his neck, subtly bouncing his knee under the table. Frank’s eyes were constantly darting around, a habit of his you had grown accustomed to. Anywhere you two went, he was always hypervigilant, constantly sitting where he had a whole view of whatever place he was in, and a clear sight of all the entrances and exits. But tonight it almost seemed worse. It was blatantly obvious he was completely out of his element. He hadn’t said one word to you in the five minutes since the two of you had sat down at your table. Frank’s thick eyebrows were furrowed, an array of warring emotions flashing across his face while looking down at the sleek menu in his large hands.

Frank wasn’t the only one that felt out of place. You couldn’t hardly read a word on the menu, and the price for one single glass of wine made your eyes nearly pop out of your head. A few more minutes of silence passed before you glanced up at Frank again, and you noticed a few beads of sweat building along his hairline. He looked as uncomfortable as you felt. The other people sitting at neighboring tables around yours reminded you of people you had been introduced to at a dinner party with Steven once. It wasn’t as much of a dinner party as it was an excuse for Steven’s parents to show off their ridiculous multi-million dollar home, inviting New York’s elite to kiss his father’s ass while the attendees compared shiny new toys, scandals, and mistresses. That had been one of the most miserable nights of your life.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the waiter approached the table, hands clasped behind his back, looking between you and Frank with a polite smile. He was tall and thin, freshly shaven, and his dirty blonde hair was perfectly quaffed. He was dressed as if he were attending a black and white gala, not waiting tables. 

“Good evening, and welcome to Brasserie. My name is Andrew. It is our pleasure to have you dining with us this evening. Shall I start you with a glass of our 2014 Brunello di Montalcino ma’am? Perhaps a Manhattan with our twelve year barrel aged rye whiskey for you sir? They both pair well with our Seared Foie Gras.”

Frank was staring at the waiter like he was speaking a language he had never heard of. His thick brows were creased in evident confusion, and you had to attempt to stifle a laugh at just how adorable he looked in that moment. You cleared your throat to gain the waiter’s attention and gave him a polite smile of your own.

“Can we have a moment to look over the menu, please?”

Andrew gave a faint nod of his head, his hands still clasped behind his back. That polite smile looked like it was permanent.

“Of course, ma’am. I’ll be back in a few moments.”

After he retreated, you looked across the table at Frank curiously.

“How did you find this place, exactly?”

Hearing the suspicion in your voice, Frank adjusted restlessly in his chair, reaching up to tug at the tie around his neck with a low grunt. His eyes darted around the restaurant for the thousandth time since you had sat down.

“Bill recommended it. Pulled some strings, got us a table.”

Suddenly it all clicked. No wonder Frank seemed so uncomfortable. He didn’t pick this place; Billy did. This restaurant had Billy Russo written all over it. With that new information, the way he was all dressed up now made sense too. On one hand, it made you grin knowing Frank had gone to Billy for help planning for your first date. It was so…cute. You would’ve given anything to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. On the other hand though, while you appreciated Billy’s input and help, you wanted tonight to be about you and Frank, and this setting didn’t represent either of you.

Quickly shutting the menu, you placed it back down on your plate and stood up, which immediately grabbed Frank’s attention. His head snapped up, looking at you in a mixture of puzzlement and trepidation, and when you held your hand out to him, he stared at it like it was a foreign object.

“Come on.”

“Where we goin’?”

“Just come on.”

Following suit, Frank closed his menu and set it down on the plate, grabbing your hand and standing up from his chair. Lacing your fingers together, you lead him down the exact path you had taken from the host’s stand and exited back outside onto the street through the tall glass doors. After taking a few steps down the sidewalk, you paused and turned around to face Frank, dropping his hand to reach up and undo the knot of his tie, slipping the black material from around his neck and stuffing it into your purse. You unbuttoned the first three buttons of his dark navy shirt, giving you a glimpse of his tan skin beneath, and pushed the black blazer off his broad shoulders and down his large arms. Folding his blazer over your arm, you took a step back to take in your handiwork, and a tender smile caressed your lips.

This was the Frank you knew.

“Much better.”

Frank glanced down at himself before lifting his head to look back at you. There was a look in his eyes that you didn’t know how to read. His lips parted slightly, and then quickly shut. Turning his head to stare at the restaurant the two of you had just left, he was quiet for a moment before looking down at you again. This time, you could see a hint of uncertainty shining in his deep brown eyes under the illumination of the street light above.

“I’m sorry.”

Frank’s apology instantly perplexed you, and it was written all over your face.

“Sorry for what?”

He let out a deep sigh, looking over your head to watch people passing by on the street in opposite directions behind you. He lifted one of his large hands to nervously rub at the back of his neck before meeting your gaze again.

“I uh…don’t really know what I’m doin’, here. I’m a bit…outta practice.”

The honesty behind his confession made your heart constrict in your ribcage. You knew what he meant. Frank hadn’t dated since he lost his wife. He hadn’t been on a first date in decades. It suddenly occurred to you how big of a deal tonight was to Frank, and that made your features soften. Taking a step closer, you brought one of your hands up to gently place against his jaw, staring up at him with an understanding smile.

“It’s okay. So am I.”

The feeling of your soft hand on his skin made him physically relax almost instantaneously. His large hands came up to gently grab your waist, and he pulled you in flush against his chest, staring down into your eyes deeply. 

“I just…wanted tonight to be special for ya.”

The juxtaposition of his gruff voice speaking so softly sent a tingle down your spine and only made you melt into his embrace even further. He was trying so hard, putting so much effort into trying to achieve what he thought was perfection, not realizing that the one thing you wanted tonight was the man standing in front of you.

“Frank, it’s already special. I’m with you. That’s all I wanted. I don’t need all of that. You could take me to get hot dogs at the stand on the street corner, and I’d be thrilled.”

Frank’s lips tugged into a wide grin as he chuckled, giving your waist a faint squeeze while shaking his head.

“I ain’t takin’ you for a goddamn hot dog on our first date.”

“Why not? I like hot dogs.”

“I ain’t ever even seen you eat a hot dog.”

Fighting your own grin, you tilted your head to the side and narrowed your eyes lightheartedly while gazing up at him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be trying to impress me? Not arguing with me?”

Frank’s dark brown eyes roamed over your figure in his hands, a smirk stretching across his lips at the sass in your voice.

“Thought that’s what I was doin’ til’ you dragged us outta that nice place.”

“I wasn’t paying thirty-seven dollars for one fucking glass of wine.”

“You wouldn’ta been payin’ anyway.”

Rolling your eyes, you gave his bicep a gentle squeeze while smirking up at him.

“Okay fine, I wasn’t going to let you pay thirty-seven dollars for one glass of wine. That’s like…three times what I spend on one bottle.”

“Didn’t realize you were so high maintenance.”

Burying your face into his chest, you couldn’t stop the laughter that made your shoulders shake slightly. Frank’s arms slipped around your waist, hugging you close to his chest, and you could hear his own laughter echoing deep within his chest and feel it rumbling against your own. Leaning back a little, you looked up at him with a teasing smirk and arched one of your brows.

“You know, I’m surprised Maria ever went out with you. You’re kind of the worst.”

Frank stared down at you with a soft smile and his large hand rubbed up and down your lower back gently.

“You and me both.”

Even though the two of you were standing on a crowded sidewalk in lower Manhattan with dozens of people passing by every second, while the two of you stared at one another, everything else faded away. It felt like you were in your own little bubble.

“Alright, if you’re gonna fight me on hot dogs, what’s the compromise between that and a menu I can’t read or pronounce?”

“I had a back up plan.”

»»———　　———««

Frank took you to a small little Italian restaurant for dinner. It was owned by a family who had immigrated to New York in the 1960s from Sicily and had been passed down through the hands of several generations. The red brick of the walls had faded into a dull shade of rust, the wooden table was worn and chipped from several decades of use and hot plates, and the wine tasted like it had come out of a five dollar box, but it was perfect.

Both of you were so much more relaxed and at ease in this cozy, intimate environment. The owner of the restaurant, a charismatic older man named Tony with a thick Italian accent, talked you into ordering the Rigatoni Amatriciana, and it was one of the best dishes you had ever tasted. He also never let your wine glass go completely empty. Once he found out you and Frank were on a date, every time Tony came over to your table, he’d look at you before glancing at Frank and nudge his shoulder with a grin, nodding in your direction and saying ‘lucky man’. It never failed to make you blush, or to make Frank beam with pride.

This was the most laid back you had ever seen Frank. The wine was flowing, and you were trading bites of each other’s dishes along with stories. He was in the middle of telling you how he met Maria at a park when you nearly spit out your wine as laughter abruptly erupted from your lips.

“Wait, she said what?”

Frank was laughing just as hard as you were, covering the top half of his face with his large hand, his broad shoulders moving up and down rapidly.

“Swear to God, she says, ‘Hey buddy, you know anythin’ else? Because we’re sick of hearin’ you butcher this one’.”

Covering your mouth with your hand, you were trying so hard to contain your laughter, but the image of a nineteen year old embarrassed Frank getting called out by his future wife for playing guitar so badly was causing your stomach to ache from your fit of giggles.

“Were you really that bad?”

“I wasn’t bad, I was just…strugglin’, ya know? I was tryin’ to learn a new song, ya know…singin’ it out loud like an asshole. I was-”

Frank paused for a moment, like he was replaying the memory in his head, and then a grin split across his lips as he shook his head and started laughing again.

“-I was butcherin’ the hell outta it.”

Hearing the resignation in his voice when he stopped defending himself only made you laugh even harder, watching as he brought his glass of wine to his smiling lips to take a large sip.

“Wow, she must have really liked you to still go out with you after that.”

Frank set his glass of wine down and gave a light nod of his head, staring down at his empty plate with a soft smile on his lips and a somewhat far away look in his eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah she uh…she saw somethin’, I guess. Somethin’ I couldn’t.”

Staring over at Frank quietly for a moment, you set your wine glass down before reaching across the table to place your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. When he glanced up to meet your gaze, you looked at him with a warm smile on your lips.

“It doesn’t matter if you couldn’t see it. She saw it, and it was special. That’s all that matters.”

Frank regarded you silently for a minute, and then a tender smile of his own crossed his lips while he brought your hand up to place a soft kiss to the back of it.

“You’re somethin’ special, you know that?”

Warmth caressed the tops of your cheeks and spread throughout your lower belly. The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at you…it had those three words right on the tip of your tongue again. It was astounding how everything with Frank felt so…natural. He was the first person you didn’t have to pretend with or water yourself down for. He didn’t expect you to be anyone other than who you were. Tonight was the most relaxed and carefree you had ever felt on a date, or in any of your past relationships before. As badly as you wanted to shout those three words from the rooftops, you decided on another truth instead.

“You make me feel it.”

»»———　　———««

After indulging in the most delicious tiramisu you’d ever tasted in your life, you and Frank found yourselves in a small dive bar a few blocks down the street. It wasn’t too terribly packed for a Saturday night, and you two managed to snag an unoccupied pool table towards the back of the bar after ordering a round of drinks. Frank, being the gentleman he is, offered to teach you how to play, and even though you already knew how, you weren’t going to turn down the offer. It was far too enticing. 

For about half an hour, you let him explain the game, felt him pressing up against you from behind while he “taught you” how to hold the pool cue and how to aim, his large rough hands manipulating yours on the cue to demonstrate proper placement. After he was finished with his little lesson, and with the liquid mischief of tequila flowing through your bloodstream, you decided to make things interesting.

“I bet the next round of drinks that I can sink that seven.”

Frank quickly paused when lifting his beer bottle to his lips, arching one of his thick brows while an expression of amusement painted his features as he looked at you.

“Yeah? One lesson and you’re an expert, huh?”

Without offering a verbal reply, you winked at him before leaning over the pool table and lining up your shot.

The deep maroon seven ball glided along the hunter green felt canvas that’s vibrancy had been muted by decades of ashen smoke, complemented by faint rings from one too many sweaty beer glasses and other questionable stains. It sank into the corner pocket with a loud clack, and Frank’s attention flickered between the corner pocket and your form leaned over the pool table, an expression of complete surprise flashing across his features. 

Slowly rising up to your full height, you fought to contain the smirk that threatened to overtake your entire mouth, though a whisper of it could be detected at the corner of your ruby painted lips. Frank noticed it, he noticed everything, and it had him narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“You hustlin’ me?”

Placing the bottom of the pool stick on the floor, your fingers lightly slid down the smooth maple wood, lightly wrapping around the midsection while you lightly shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Frank stared at you from where he stood casually leaning against the edge of the table, one of his large hands resting on his hip along the leather of his belt, the other grasping his own pool stick with two of his fingers and his beer bottle with the rest. The dim light above the pool table cast a shadow over his sharp features that made his warm whiskey eyes appear more like deep pools of darkened espresso. His thick brows pinched, causing a crease in his forehead.

“You said you didn’t know how to play-”

“I never said that.”

The look of faux innocence on your features caused Frank’s eyes to darken, cocking his head to the side while staring at you in a way that was silently challenging you to prove his memory wrong. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you slowly began to round the expansive pool table, your lips stretching into a playful grin. Slipping between Frank’s large form and the table, you purposefully brushed your ass against the front of his jeans, eliciting a deep grunt from him in response. 

“You said you could teach me.” 

Leaning over the pool table, you arched your back a little more than necessary while lining your pool stick up with the cue ball, lifting your ass further up into Frank’s point of view. You didn’t need to glance over your shoulder to know that’s exactly where his hungry gaze was. You could feel it.

“Yeah, and you let me.”

There was just barely a trace of annoyance nestled in the gravel of his deep voice, and it made you grin. 

“Did you think I was gonna pass up the opportunity to let you bend me over something?”

The dingy ivory cue ball was lined up perfectly with the smooth electric blue of the two, but just as you were about to take your shot, Frank’s large hand wrapped around your hip and squeezed tightly as he pressed himself against you from behind, and your hand slipped. The cue ball sailed only a few inches ahead in the opposite direction you planned for, and you tightened your grip around your pool stick. 

Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you turned your head to look up at Frank over your shoulder, only to find him staring back at you with a burning intensity that ignited a flame of pure desire in your lower belly.

“That wasn't fair.”

“And wigglin’ your ass in the air, bein’ a goddamn tease is?”

Before you could respond, Frank leaned forward, pressing his firm chest right up against your back, letting you feel the heat of his body against yours. The spiced woodsy scent of his cologne overwhelmed your senses far more than the concoction that wafted in the dense air of the dive bar, and you could almost taste the beer on his lips when he leaned in so close that his large nose bumped against your own.

“You wanna play dirty, sweetheart? We’ll play dirty.”

Frank suddenly stood up straight and let go of you to walk around towards the opposite end of the pool table. He grabbed the triangular rack and retrieved the balls from the outlet below before grabbing the others that were still scattered across the table, and he set up a brand new game with a look of pure focus and determination in his eyes.

You couldn’t help yourself from being even more of a tease. Frank just looked too damn good, and you had a great buzz going. He’d loosened another button to your delight, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows exposing his muscular forearms. Leaning your pool stick against the table, you sauntered over towards the high top table to your right where your purse was and slipped your hand inside, pulling Frank’s long forgotten tie out. 

“If I win-”

Turning around to face Frank with a smirk, you noticed that he had paused his set up of the game and was now glancing between the tie in your hands and the look on your face in a mixture of intrigue and confusion.

“-I get to use this, on you.”

As soon as those words left your lips, Frank’s eyes instantly darkened. He stared at you in a way that made you want to abandon the game all together and drag him out to the alley to let him fuck you there, but you knew he wouldn’t budge. Frank didn’t back down from a challenge. He embraced it. His eyes flickered between the tie in your hands and your gaze, letting out a quiet grunt accompanied by a nod in response before removing the rack once the balls were set up in a perfect triangle.

Grabbing his beer bottle from the edge of the table, he motioned towards your pool cue with it before taking a large sip.

“Ladies first.”

Placing the tie back into your purse, confusion knit between your brows at Frank’s nonchalance. You stared at him from the opposite end of the table, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what you get if you win?”

Frank focused his attention solely on you, and there was a predatory look in his eyes that made you nearly sink to your knees right then and there.

“Figured I’d show ya instead.”

»»———　　———««

It took Frank twenty minutes to kick your ass. Twenty. Minutes. Why you thought you could actually beat him, who really knows. Maybe it was the confidence granted from the glasses of wine at dinner and the two margaritas you’d already had. Maybe you underestimated how good of a pool player Frank was, which was stupid on your part considering it wasn’t far fetched to think that his base had a pool table and he probably perfected his game during his tours in the Marines. Maybe you just didn’t give a fuck if you won or not because either way, you got Frank. He didn’t tell you exactly what he wanted if he won, but the fact of the matter was you could see in his eyes just what it was that he wanted and you were more than eager to give it to him.

Frank kicked the door to the small dive bar bathroom shut with his boot, taking his hand off you only for a quick second to lock the door. His kisses were hungry and aggressive, and even a little possessive. His large hands slipped from your waist down to your hips and finally reached around to land on your ass, squeezing roughly through the thin material of your dress. The action made you moan into his mouth, and he tore his lips away from yours just to attach them to your neck, leaving a wet trail of open mouthed kisses before speaking into your ear in a low and rough voice that had your panties immediately soaked.

“Been wantin’ to rip this off you all goddamn night.”

“No one’s stopping you.”

Frank’s large hands found their way to your hips once again, and he tugged your dress upwards until the hem of it was at the top of your thighs. Gripping onto your waist, he quickly lifted you up and placed you on the edge of the sink, the cool ceramic of it a stark contrast to the heated skin on the backs of your thighs. Just as you were reaching for his belt, he suddenly let go of you and took a few steps back, his tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip. Seeing the look of confusion on your face and the impatient pout on your lips, he stared at you with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Put your hands together.”

Blinking a few times, you continued to stare at him in perplexity. A crease formed between your brows at his words. 

“What?”

Frank didn’t tear his ravenous eyes away from you. They trailed over your figure, drinking in the sight of your dress bunched up to your hips, your thighs spread apart as you sat on the edge of the sink with your legs dangling below, a delectable view of your soaked panties. He took in the way your breasts rose and fell quickly from how hard you were breathing already, the heat that flushed in your cheeks, and the look in your eyes that gave away just how badly you wanted him.

Bringing his large hands to his belt, he slowly and teasingly started to unbuckle it. Despite the fact that you two were in a public space and anyone could come banging on the door at any minute, he was taking his time, making a show of pulling the worn leather from the metal buckle. 

“Your hands. Put ‘em together. I got a prize to claim.”

You were so mesmerized and aroused by the sight of Frank unbuckling his belt, you almost missed what he said. Lifting your gaze up to look at him, you seemed to get an idea of what he had planned for you, and it sent a thrill of excitement throughout your entire body. Without another moment of hesitation, you quickly pressed your hands together which earned a pleased smirk from Frank. He cocked his head to the side, slipping his belt from the loops of his jeans while taking a step towards you.

“Would ya look at that. You can do what you’re told. This what I gotta do to get you to listen, baby?”

An intense wave of heat pooled between your thighs at the way he was teasing you. His voice was so coarse and rough, but the way he spoke to you was smooth like honey. Biting down on your bottom lip, you gave a faint shake of your head.

“I’m listening cause I want it too.”

Frank was standing directly in front of you now between your spread thighs, and a grin stretched over his soft lips as he kept his head cocked to the side, staring into your eyes in pure hunger and amusement.

“That right?”

All you could manage was a soft hum in the back of your throat in response. When he started to wrap his belt around your wrists, your gaze quickly dropped to watch. The loud music playing outside was nothing compared to how loudly your heart was pounding in your ears. Frank carefully but expertly bound your wrists together, giving the leather a gentle tug to test his own work. Grasping your chin between his thumb and index finger, he lifted your head to capture your eyes.

“This alright?”

Nodding your head eagerly, Frank let out a soft chuckle. He lightly brushed his thumb along your bottom lip, leaning in to nuzzle his large nose against yours.

“C’mon now. That pretty head full of all them big words and you ain’t got none for me right now?”

“Hurry up.”

Frank let out a deep bellow of laughter at your impatient and rushed response, crinkles of delight fanning around his eye sockets.

“There’s my girl.”

Grabbing your elbows, Frank lifted your arms above your head, hooking your bound wrists on a piece of the light fixture above the mirror, leaving you completely at his mercy. He didn’t waste any time unzipping his pants to free his fully erect cock, attaching his lips to your neck once again while he pulled your panties to the side and pushed his hips forward. Immediately your head fell back against the mirror behind you the second that Frank’s thick cock nestled deeply within your snug walls and a loud grunt from him was followed by a desperate moan from you.

Time was not a luxury you had right now, and as much as Frank wanted to lose himself in you, he had to keep in mind where you were. Wrapping one of his strong arms around your waist, he pulled you closer to the edge of the sink, and while you wrapped your legs tightly around his lower back, he began to snap his hips swiftly. The glass was cold against the exposed skin of your back, and Frank was fucking you so hard, you thought it was gonna shatter from impact.

“Frank-”

He quickly placed his large hand over your mouth and whispered deeply into your ear.

“Shh shh shh, need ya to be quiet for me, baby.”

The sounds of your sharp moans and cries of pleasure were muffled by Frank’s large hand that was clamped over your mouth to keep you quiet. He buried his face into your neck, licking and sucking at your sensitive flesh, biting down gently to keep himself from moaning out. Every low grunt and groan Frank dripped into your ear was pushing you closer and closer to that edge that you wanted to free fall from. He was being rougher with you than he ever had, and it made your head spin. 

Tugging at his belt around your wrists, you let out a muffled whine against his palm. You wanted to touch him, but you were also enjoying this side of Frank too much to really care. Long gone was the gentleman who had picked you up at your door just hours ago with flowers in hand. Frank was fucking you hard and rough, and it was quick and messy, but it was exhilarating. Every time you were with Frank, it was like a brand new experience. He made you feel things you had never felt before, and gave you things you didn’t even know you were craving.

You could tell he was close when his pace started to falter. He began to fuck you relentlessly, and your legs tightened around his lower back. Your arms were starting to ache from being suspended above your head, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to really fucking care. You were far too turned on and dangerously close to coming. Slipping his hand down from your mouth to wrap around your throat instead, he pressed his forehead against yours and spoke lowly while staring deeply into your eyes.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t hardly speak. The way Frank was fucking you, his hand around your throat, your wrists bound above your head with his belt, the fact that you were in the bathroom of a dive bar; it all rendered you in incoherent mess. All you could do was nod weakly while letting out an obscene moan, staring at him with wide eyes in complete desperation. 

“Attagirl.”

That was all it took for a warm blanket of bliss to envelop you completely and stars to explode behind your eyelids. Frank poured sweet nothings into your ear while your hips uncontrollably bucked against him, and he continued to fuck you deeply through your orgasm. He dropped his hand from your throat and wrapped his other arm around your waist, hugging you tightly to his chest when his hips started to stutter. 

The sound of Frank calling out your name when he reached his own peak was something you would never get tired of. It sent chills throughout your entire body, and it only made it that much harder to not speak those three words that tried to claw their way out of your ribcage.

Frank gently brought your arms down and removed his belt from your wrist, slipping it back through the loops of his jeans before buckling it and zipping up his fly. Wetting a napkin, he carefully cleaned you up, pressing soft kisses along your jawline in the process. A hazy grin stretched across your lips as you slowly slid your hands up Frank’s biceps to wrap around his neck.

“We should make bets more often.”

He let out a deep chuckle as he grabbed your waist and gently lifted you up from the sink, setting you back down on unsteady legs. He helped you fix your dress before grasping your chin between his thumb and index finger, smirking at you.

“You ain’t gotta make a bet for that. All you gotta do is ask.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[agirlcandream84]

Every Time with Frank is Like the First Time

Sorry but I'm just imagining that taking Frank never gets easier, especially until you've had a chance to get accustomed to his size.

"Fuck," he hisses out, "I know baby. I feel it too. Goin' as slow as I can."

"S'ok. Just wanna feel you," you whine, eyes squeezed tight at the sting of him, finger nails sinking into his biceps.

"Fuck doll, you're so fucking tight. Don't wanna hurt you," he grunts. He looks down to watch the length of him ease in your walls, inch by inch.

"Doesn't hurt Frankie," you assure him though that wasn't strictly true, "feels nice."

"You lyin' to me honey?" he grunts in response, restraining himself to fill you up slowly, but you don't reply, concentrating on a slow deep breath as he pushes the rest of his length inside your walls. "Need to hear you sweetheart," he prompts again, a featherlight tap to your cheek that pops your eyes open to find his.

You shake your head no, letting out a breathy, "uh huh, not lying. promise."

"Attagirl," he rumbles as he starts his steady rhythm, your fingernails sinking that much deeper at the stretch of him. Your body is still tensed and he knows it.

"Breath for me honey, gotta relax remember? Deep breath. There we go baby," he coos, feeling your walls make space for him as he finds his pace.

-------------

I CANNOT. I CANNOT. I need him carnally.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

lilac, masterlist

a/n: ...yes i did spend about an hour in procreate trying to change the sign on the right photo to say lilac and not the name it originally said... welp. I wouldn't be me if I wasn't an overachiever.

summary: moving back home to the family-run inn isn't exactly what you had expected, especially not with the mysterious lumberjack that now calls the quaint little town of Dunbrook his home as well...

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, running an inn in a tiny rural town, explicit sexual content, violence, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, pete castiglione era, total word count is 42k

masterlist | join my taglist | series playlist

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble

[sinsandsweetness]

frank castle with a pregnant girlfriend whose so needy and horny for him all the time

Your hand flutters over the soft cotton sheets for the second time that night. Fingers gently tickling at the waistband of his boxers. He stirs but continues to watch the tv. Some medical drama he thought might help you fall asleep.

You lean in and brush your nose against his neck. Lips grazing his pulse before you press a few soft kisses downwards. Trying to get your hint across. And with your hand in his pants and your face buried in his neck, you figure it shouldn’t take too long.

“Again… really?” He asks as his hand comes up to rest on the one your currently using to palm at his groin.

“I know,” you try not to whine, but a moan like sigh slips out anyway. “I just- Frankie, please…”

He lets out a little huff of air and you can hear the smirk forming on his face. Clearly amused by what appears to be your newfound never ending libido. All you really want is to fall asleep, but it seems your body has other plans. The growing ache between your thighs has already forgotten just how full you felt, not even an hour ago.

“I know, baby. C’mhere.” The hand that’s already around your shoulder, pulls you in. One hand going to pull your thigh around to straddle him. And that’s where you sit. Hips already rocking against him as your legs mold to the outside of his hips. His hands find their spot on your waist. Both thumbs brushing along the line of exposed skin on your stomach.

You aren’t showing too much yet. You are only a few months along. But you’ve heard that the start of the second trimester is when this kind of thing happens. All of a sudden, you’re a little more energetic and your sex drive just skyrockets. You couldn’t have seen it coming.

You rock back and forth, creating a friction you oh so desperately need. But it’s not enough.

A near pathetic moan happens to crawl it’s way up your throat as you grind back and forth. Chasing another orgasm. The only thing that can even come close to a solution for your endless desire. But even Frank knows that this isn’t enough.

Calloused fingers toy with the lace band of your underwear, tugging them gently to the side while you lift to allow him access.

“So needy aren’t you, baby?” He teases, that devious smirk still plastered on his face.

You nod enthusiastically. “Need you so bad, Frankie…”

“I know, baby, I know,” he’s got his boxers shoved down and cock in his fist, lining himself up with your already soaking wet cunt. Hands moving straight back to your ass to pull you down onto him with a groan.

You sink down on him, inch by inch and you can’t even help the way your eyes roll back and your breath catches in your throat.

“Let’s take care of you then, hm, pretty girl? I’ll make it all better, I promise.”

[2kmps]

BED-REST IS BEST

howl pendragon x sick!reader | 2.1k

synopsis; while sophie and michael are away fetching you bone broth for your illness, howl decides to pay you a visit.

story warnings; sick!reader, howl is a pompous turd, book!howl-coded, interrupted kiss, roughly proofread, posted 2021.

Sophie supposed the malady came on the winds of spring, carrying with it all manner of sickness, unpleasantness, and turbid air just the thinnest tinge of green from particles of pollen. She herself felt the effects of the great thaw, the budding tulips of richest hue, and the haze that drew over head like a personal cloud of suffering all her own.

Of course, Old Sophie had a way of dramatizing, meanwhile simultaneously catastrophizing stuff, so you knew to listen to her words loosely, with a solemn nod that you also shared similarly in those feelings. To a lesser degree than her, you were already aware your forced bed-rest could be attributed to allergies.

Or, something else you considered, it could have been the number of sputtering children who yet not knew to duck their faces in a tissue or their arms; it could have been the last embrace you shared with your sickly aunt. It could have been so many things that you had to press the pads of your fingers into your temples to subdue the stab of a headache building beneath them.

“Michael and I are going to Market Square to get supplies and bone broth. That’ll whip you into shape in no time.” Sophie anchored her fists against the bulky layers of her skirt, nearly losing them from how deeply they sunk. “Don’t you dare think about moving until we get back, hear me?”

“What about customers?” you couldn’t say you were disappointed by her firm demand, though all the same it made you restless. Even in times where illness or injury got you down, rest eluded you like fine sand slithering through crevices in your fingers. “Howl went off and blew half our income on that- that, damn, what was it? Some kind of enchanted flute? The more customers we serve, the more we can stash away.”

Sophie’s nostrils widened while her shoulders sagged forward with her breath. Her eyes lost their hardness, ebbing into something far warmer, motherly, almost. As you shifted anxiously beneath the covers, she came back around and began tucking them under your body once again, sure to secure you tighter than before. In fact, you were so caught, so much in your cocoon that you only saw the gray ball of wadded hair pinned atop her head bounce as she rounded you.

“Just stay down you worrywart,” she sighed, heels tapping the floorboards in a collected gait. At your head, she was careful to fluff the feathers in your pillow. “Between us, I’ve been putting a bit aside here and there. Just enough so he can't go buy another one of those enchanted suits. I’d like to know the dealer he’s getting them from and have a word with them myself.”

Your lips curled up at the mention and, honestly, you believed she actually would. “Where is Howl, anyway? I thought he was around.”

“Good grief, I almost wish he wasn’t. He’s been banging around in his room for hours now.” Old Sophie threw her hand towards the adjacent wall, upper lip curling as she continued, “says a lot that you haven’t heard a lick of it.”

That was enough to get you to concede to her obstinacy, letting the weight of your head- suddenly a strain on your neck- fully rest atop of the pillow she had fixed. The more she talked about you needing to stay in bed, drink bone broth and saltines, the more you felt the lead in your limbs rooting you to the mattress and the world floating around you when you closed your eyes.

It was any guess to you when it was the moment Sophie slipped out of your room with that hobbled gait of hers. You had been vaguely aware of her giving your cushion a bit more lusciousness, and then warmth of her palm covering the space of your forehead, giving a fretful tongue click. Behind your heavy eyelids, your eyes floated after her tiny footfalls, but that at once made your bed feel like a boat crashing through cresting waves.

So, you finally resigned to your fate of her and Michael’s care, finally let the stone in your bones meld you into the bed like beige boulders sinking further into the earth and undergrowth with coming centuries.

The silence that surrounded you was enthralling, probably the only true amount of peace you had had in a long time, considering your days were often brimmed with mediating Sophie and Howl’s explosiveness, meanwhile, still cooking up meager spells and manning the business with Michael.

In your weariness and delirium, a thought crossed your mind in a drawl: what about Calcifer, did he need more wood? You anticipated his voice bursting out soon, imploring attention in any number of ways. What of the front door? You expected a knock to come soon, and then another, and another, and perhaps a dozen more. That was money well needed.

What of Sophie? Your thoughts continued. Would she need you to help with scrubbing the floors? Maybe she wanted to give you a knitting lesson later, or expand on her tutelage of weaving hats.

Oh, and Howl—

God, how could you forget Howl? The man felt like a job all on its own. 

Surely he intended to go out again and woo many of the loveliest in Market Chipping, or hell, maybe he’d move the castle somewhere else for the night to do that. You expected him to hunt you down, throw open your door, barge through the threshold with his hair aflutter and eagerness in his eyes—where did you and Miss Nose stash his suits? His guitar wasn’t where he left it, where was it? Neither of you meddled with the charm over his door, right?

As it turned out, you mumbled in your sleep, or at least in your discombobulated state. Your head rustled the feather pillow, lolling to one side and then the other as sweat prickled your forehead in cold beads. Behind your eyelids, Sophie’s nimble and darkly spotted hands worked on a suit, meanwhile Michael was ran ragged around the castle to try to fulfill orders, Calcifer bellowed for attention and eggs and bacon, and Howl’s hair whipped up in the breeze as he spun round and round with another lovely.

Your entire face twitched when a large hand smoothed across the top of your head, a damp weight of something laid spread across your forward, unpleasant and clammy unlike Sophie’s warm hand. “Hey. Don’t take the newt from the shelf, it’ll get on the floor.”

Howl gave a bemused smile that took a while to dissipate. You continued to babble incoherently here and there about things that didn't matter while the peaks of his knuckles simply rocked across your temple and cheek.

“I’ll keep that in mind. I pray that Sophie has made herself useful instead of sticking her nose in on us again.” He said with lightness in voice, peering across his shoulder towards the bolted doorway to be sure. “Good. She seems to think I only make you worse in these states. I would never.”

You were sure you were hearing his voice at this point, rousing you from the cluster in your head until your eyes fixed with his, wonderful and marble-like. They were softer than usual, glittering like the sea when the sun hung highest, making the water like a trove of dazzling treasure.

“Your eyes are amazing, Howell.” You whispered hoarsely, swallowing through the desert in your throat. “I don’t notice them enough.”

His smile took on something brighter, almost as though delighted you took notice of something that menial. “I would agree with you there! You can look as long as you’d like. Tell me more about it.”

“I think about us sometimes, Howell.” It was a strange feeling right now, the words you spoke were the first to float forward in your mind. You knew you were speaking garbled silliness, still you didn’t think better of it. “I remember college together, before we came to Ingary. I remember how you used to look before you… started doing the enchantment stuff. I feel like I’ve forgotten you.”

The lines in his lips were significantly deeper as they pulled down, his hand halted against your skin. It was either the thought that you felt such a disconnect from him, or the reminiscence of who he once was that brought the sullen look of his on. No longer was there a glitter of childish joy, but rather of anxiety, of concern.

“Nonsense. You’re talking nonsense just like Sophie and Calcifer.” He moved closer to you on the bed, rolling your arm from its spot as the mattress bent. Next, the pillow cradling your head flattened, his hands cuffed into the thick fabric as he leaned across you, your eyes only able to see him. “I… I’m still here. I have not left you, I wouldn’t entertain the thought. Didn’t I tell you that wherever I’d go from here on out, you would have to be right with me?”

You only wished he’d tell you such things in every other state of being, instead of during the peak of being bedridden. “I want to believe you, but in this world I am as ordinary as the hat makers and bakers. I’m replaceable. I wonder if that will happen one day.”

Noticeably distraught from the creases deepening around the corners of his mouth, and his eyes flitting wildly around your face as though in panic. He came down onto his elbows, caging you below him as his fear neared, his hot breath inches away.

“What makes you think I could ever replace you? Has someone put that bull into your head? Was it Calcifer—the pest? Was it a panderer we met the other day?” Now that he was so close to you, his voice had lowered and it rumbled. “Or, are you so sleep deprived, so loopy that you’re finally now telling me your heart?”

“Does it matter what I confess to you now?” you asked, pushing your head deeper into the feathers and farther from him. As you turned your face away, he shifted to gently coax your chin forward with the daintiest touch of his fingertips. “I would be alone in that venture. In a matter of five, six, ten years—I’ll have all the age and lines you hate. I’m sure I’ll shrink even more.”

“You do realize we have someone in our house who already looks like that.” He said this jokingly, of course, but even in your fever, your hand shot up to pinch his arm. “H–Hey, stop! Furthermore, you’re making up stuff, who would be to say you’d be alone with your heart?”

The explanation to that was obvious, considering the whole business with Calcifer and the Witch, but you didn’t want to think about it. In fact, at any opportunity to steer your mind away from that debacle, you found it.

Once again, you tried to look away from him—both sleep was beginning to weigh on your bones more than what you imagine Howl would if he were to collapse, and away from the furor gleaming in his eyes. And once again, he pulled you back towards him.

“Sick as you are, I’d like to prove it to you.” It was an unusual thing to hear from him considering all his caution with appearance and health. You wondered if he was desperate to alleviate your distrust. “Why are you looking at me like that? Close your eyes—yeah, I would rather not risk your germs, but some things can’t be helped.”

You weren’t sure if your eyes slid shut from gravity, or from some sort of internal desire for him to do this. Either way, his hand returned adjacent to the other near your hair, tugging slightly at the strands and his breath came so close you felt it tremble against your lips.

And then, all at once, his breath snagged in his throat as the door was thrown open, bouncing off the wall with such force it vibrated. In waddled Old Sophie, arms conveniently free of anything other than an old wood broom with long, spidery bristles that she held aloft across her shoulder, eyes blazing and the most malicious you had ever seen them.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone with this dog! This cretin, vile imbecile! This complete, utterly hopeless dolt!” She screeched, the layers of her dress billowed behind her as she started into the room as fast as her creaky old limbs could. “Get out, get out, get out! Away with you, you absolute user! Away! Away! Away! Begone!”

Howl yelped in surprise as the tiny old lady swung the broom with enough ferocity for you to feel the air gush and whoosh around you.

“You demented old coot! Swinging brooms and the like around, are you completely classless?!” he propelled himself upright, expertly ducking her onslaught until he was well out the door into the hall. “I won't forget this!”

As luck would have it, their bickering continued on even once they were out of the room, even fifteen minutes later when Michael weaseled through the threshold with your bone broth and bolted the door behind him.

divider by @/anlian-aishang

reposted from my deleted blog officiallytheduchess/cardeneiv