#the punisher au

[marvelmusing]

A Marriage of Sins

Pairing: Forest Demon!Billy x Demon Hunter!Fem!Reader

Summary: When you hear of a demon living in an abandoned church in the woods, you know you need to investigate. But how could you know that the demon was just your soulmate waiting to marry you?

Warnings [18+]: smut, unprotected sex, dub con vibes (there’s no explicit consent given, but they’re soulmates so the reader gives in pretty easily), bondage, religious imagery, spitting, wife kink, praise kink, tiny bit of spanking.

A/N: not extensively proofread so sorry if there’s some mistakes.

My Masterlist

The church was abandoned.

That’s what the nearby villagers had told you. But as you push your shoulder against the dark oak door, light spills out towards you. The candles are lit and there’s a pleasant warmth that spreads through your body, urging you to step further inside.

Despite the vines crawling in through the cracks in the walls and the roots that are beginning to crush some of the pews, the church looks untouched by the world outside.

But there’s a reason why you’re here.

For a demon to inhabit such a sacred place, they must be incredibly powerful.

As you walk down the aisle, there’s a snap of broken glass being crushed beneath someone’s heel. When you turn, knife already in your hand, there’s no one there.

Continuing to venture further into the church, you stop at the altar, examining the contents laid out on the stone table there.

An ornate dagger, a small wooden bowl, two pieces of ribbon - one black, one white - both made of velvet. It looks like some sort of ritual is being prepared.

On a worn piece of paper, an incantation has been written in Latin and you almost make the mistake of reading it aloud. It’s then that you hear a soft chuckle, carried on a light breeze.

Heart pounding, you spin around.

The demon is tall, even as you stand on the slightly raised dais, he towers over you, his shadow creeping towards you as he steps closer.

His dark facial hair is trimmed neatly, his equally dark hair slicked back to reveal the deep brown horns sitting on the top of his head. Darkened eyes eyes roam over your figure as he continues to move towards you.

He raises a brow at the sight of your knife, then he smirks, his tongue tracing over his teeth as he tilts his head at you.

“An unconventional wedding gift, but thank you.”

“Wedding?”

He hums, his brows creasing lightly as he looks you up and down appraisingly. You don’t know why you’re standing still, waiting for his response instead of immediately sending him back to hell.

“What colour’s your underwear?” he asks.

You gape at him.

“What?”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he observes your shocked expression.

“You heard me.”

“That’s none of your business,” you protest.

He nods.

“You see, the prophecy said my wife would be clothed in white.”

Once again, he looks down at you and you follow his gaze. You’re wearing your usual hunting gear, khaki jacket with a black top and trousers, accompanied by your black boots and collection of knives tucked away in various compartments.

“And whilst I really want those fuckers down below to be wrong.” He steps closer, close enough that you could reach out and touch him. “I kinda hope you’re wearing something pretty underneath all that.”

Heart beating wildly in your chest, you attempt to slow down your thoughts. How does he know about your prophecy? You had sworn the seer to secrecy, she had vowed to tell no one about your soulmate - a demon of three sins.

Raising your chin confidently, you attempt to stare him down as you claim,

“You’ll never find out.”

He grins.

Goosebumps spread over your skin and your instincts finally kick in.

His fingers curl tightly around your wrist, the tip of your knife inches from his chest. He cocks his head aside, looking down at you with a smirk.

“This the first time you’ve fought a corporeal demon?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you growl in frustration as you push harder against his grip with both arms.

“No.”

He breathes out a laugh, his dark eyes glinting with amusement as he pushes you backwards. His other hand curls under your elbow, giving him the leverage to hoist you up onto the altar.

Struggling against him, you continue to push the knife towards him with little success. He looks almost disappointed at your feeble attempt.

“I think you’ve forgotten something, demon,” you hiss at him. He raises a brow at you with a bored expression.

“Enlighten me then.”

“You’re in the mortal world, and this is my domain. I have the upper hand here.” You let go of the knife with one hand, calling out the words, “Flamma in manibus.”

Instantly, the flames from the candles dissipate, flooding quickly to gather in the palm of your hand. When he sees the fire blooming in front of him the demon lets go of you, disappearing into thin air.

Stunned, you stare at the empty church for a moment before you push away from the altar, taking a few tentative steps forward. Surely a little fire hadn’t scared such a powerful demon?

Then arms wrap tightly around your body, pulling you back against a firm chest. The flames in your hand extinguish as your arms are pinned down by his hold on you.

“Looking for something?” he purrs against your ear. As his nose traces over the shell of your ear you shiver, his lips hovering above the sensitive skin of your earlobe. “I gotta admit, you’re a smart one.”

As you attempt to tug away from him, his scent fills your senses. Is this demon wearing cologne? With every breath you take, more of his scent sends a burning down your throat that urges you to press your face into the crook of his neck and breathe it in directly from the source.

He smirks.

“You starting to feel it now?” You frown at him. “I’m impressed little bride, most people would be throwing themselves at me by now.”

Blinking in confusion, you turn and meet his dark eyes. When your eyes lock, you can feel the blood flooding down your body, warming your most intimate parts and stealing your ability to think clearly.

“You’re a lust demon.”

He nods with a wicked grin.

“Among other things.” At the sight of confusion filling your eyes he shrugs lightly before he admits, “I have my moments of wrath.”

A shiver runs down your spine. Most demons specialise in only one of the seven sins.

Typically you could sense it as soon as you interacted with them. But with this demon it appeared that physical contact was the only way for you to know what he’s capable of.

The pull towards him is indescribable.

Lust tugs at your body, urging you to turn around in his arms and let him kiss you. His perfect lips would feel divine on your body, his tongue tracing over your skin and his teeth leaving delightfully painful marks in their wake.

Wrath simmers under his skin, you can see the violence hidden in his dark eyes and the firm hold of his hands as his fingers tighten on your body. There’s a beauty in it, the darkness that lurks inside him, and you wonder what it would take to bring it out to play.

Underneath the pull of those two sins, there’s something else. A deep gnawing that settles in your own stomach, a wanting that hurts. The need to be the best, to have everything that you’ve ever wanted. Greed.

The corner of his mouth twitches when he hears you gasp in realisation. A demon of three sins.

“No one ever gets that far,” he muses quietly. “They just see me as a lustful temptation or a devil on their shoulder urging them to act on their darkest thoughts.”

A cool breeze ghosts over your bare stomach, making you notice that he had slowly unbuttoned your shirt. He slides his hand over your stomach, reaching up to cup your breast.

“They don’t see that greed is what really fuels me. The sex and the violence are just means to an end, so I can get whatever it is I want.”

His thumb circles over your nipple that hardens underneath the thin fabric of your bra as he continues,

“Now you’re a stubborn one, I can tell.”

The demon traces his other hand over the waistband of your trousers, tugging occasionally at the material. He clicks his tongue when the fabric doesn’t move to his liking.

“Are you going to tell me what you want?” he asks you. He dips his hand under the waistband of your trousers, running his fingers over your pantie-clad mound.

Sparks of pleasure flood through your wobbling legs and you shake your head at him, even as you whine desperately. He mimics your shaking head mockingly with a pout on his lips before he smiles.

“I think you want me to marry you. I think you wanna belong to me. Want to tie our souls together.”

His lips press a long line of kisses from the shell of your right down to the nape of your neck. With each brush of his lips, pleasure sinks into your body, your mind growing hazy from his words and his touch.

“I think you want me to fuck you over this altar. Make you mine. Stain your soul with my cock.”

A whimper leaves your lips as he slides your jacket and shirt down, dropping them onto the cold stone floor. His hand in your trousers still doesn’t move and a shuddering breath leaves your lips as you rock your hips forwards.

“I think you want to be my wife, hm?”

“What- what about you?”

He blinks at you in confusion, a small frown creasing at his brows at the sight of you looking so uncertain. Despite the flood of arousal and wanting you’re feeling, self consciousness stops you from giving yourself over to him.

“Do you want to be my husband?” you ask, almost shyly.

His eyes darken and in an instant his lips are meeting yours in a fierce kiss. Fingers curling over the back of your neck, he spins you around and hoists you up onto the altar.

A gasp falls from your lips at the chill of the stone surface against your bare thighs. He must have dematerialised your trousers at some point, though that fades away as he continues to kiss you.

“Fuck, yes,” he groans lowly. “Yes I wanna be your husband.”

Tugging at his dark clothing, you whine when it doesn’t budge and he chuckles. You blink once and by the time your eyes are open again his clothes are gone.

As your jaw drops at the sight of him, all lean muscle and scars, he takes the opportunity to tilt your head back, spitting onto your tongue. Shock prickles over your body as you moan wantonly. He grins as you swallow eagerly.

Stepping between your parted thighs, he reaches around your body with both hands, searching for the clasp of your bra. He finds it easily, but instead of undoing it, he rips it in half before tugging at the material and dropping it to the floor.

He dips his head down, tongue flattening over your hardened nipple before he takes it lightly between his teeth.

Arching into his mouth, you gasp and whimper as his hand provides your other breast with an equal amount of attention. The pads of his fingers are calloused and they prickle delightfully over your sensitive skin.

At first you grip onto the hard stone beneath you, but then you sink a hand into his hair which makes him groan. Encouraged by his reaction, you seize a tight fistful of his dark locks.

When your nails accidentally scratch one of his horns he growls deeply, tilting his head back to look up at you. The look in his eyes makes your whole body want to melt into a puddle, allowing him to reshape you into whatever he wants.

His lips move back up, trailing a line of harsh kisses over your throat.

“Well they were right,” he breathes against your lips before he kisses you firmly. “You were wearing white.”

Blinking, you look down at your torn white bra and the soaked white panties that are clinging to the wet lips of your cunt. He slides your panties delicately down your legs, pressing kisses to whatever part of you is closest.

His thumb circles your clit slowly and you whine loudly at the bare minimum you’re being granted. When you try to grasp his wrist as swats your hand away and his obsidian eyes flash with danger.

“Patience,” he warns you, and you can’t help but tease,

“I thought patience was a virtue?”

He growls.

Your knees land on the altar as he turns you around, your cheek pressing against the cool polished stone and you breathe in sharply as his cock presses against your sopping entrance.

He slaps your ass and you whimper, giving his restraint the final push.

He groans loudly as he pushes inside you, and your hands scramble for purchase, nails scratching against the stone as the sensation of him filling you so thoroughly overtakes your senses.

Once he’s all the way inside, he breathes out harshly, pressing his forehead between your shoulder blades. He picks up the black ribbon from beside you, using it to tie your hands in front of you.

He runs his hands soothingly over your shoulders, massaging gently before he uses his weight to pin you beneath him. Then he begins to fuck you.

Hands bound, body bent into the position of his choosing, you can do nothing but accept the pleasure he’s giving you. He swipes his thumb over your clit, and you clench hard around him as the head of his cock knocks against that spot deep inside you.

As you begin to near the edge of your climax, he speeds up and soon you’re squeezing tightly around his cock as your orgasm hits you. Tension fills your muscles as you clench with a groan, the aftershocks pushing your body through a violent wave of pleasure.

He growls lowly, gritting his teeth and taking even breaths as you twitch beneath him, feeling stunned from your sudden high.

When you finally relax, your muscles loosening with pleasure, he pulls out of you. Before you can protest, he’s turning you around to lie on your back with your bound hands resting on your stomach.

Then he picks up the white ribbon.

“You think you can manage a few knots?”

You blink at him, still dazed with pleasure. Then you realise.

You’re getting married.

The black ribbon currently tied expertly around your wrists represents his soul. The ribbon that he’s holding now represents yours. A pure, delicate white.

The aftershocks of your orgasm make your shake and you struggle slightly with the ribbon as you tie his wrists together with a little slack between them. He grins, using his bound hands to position his cock against your cunt for the second time.

He’s slower this time, urging you to take him into your body with a surprising amount of intimacy. He takes your face between both of his hands and you can feel the ribbon that binds his hands together as it brushes against the back of your neck.

His forehead presses against yours, allowing the two of you to share long kisses that steal your breath away as he rocks inside you. Rolling your hips against his, you hear him inhale sharply before he’s thrusting harder.

Soon, you’re both moaning desperately into the kisses. Your bound hands smooth up his chest, taking his chin between your fingers. The scratch of his stubble prickles over your fingertips.

He groans loudly as he feels you clenching rapidly around his cock and praise spills from his lips, making your head fuzzy with warmth.

“Such a good little wife, with a gorgeous little cunt. You’re gonna let me cum in you, aren’t you? Gonna let me fill my wife up.”

“Yes,” you breathe out against his lips. Then he slams his hips down hard. “Yes,” you cry into the empty church. “Yes please.”

“Fuck,” he moans. Your nails dig into his hips, scratching lightly as you try to ground yourself. But pleasure is already sweeping its way through your body, lighting every nerve on fire.

Legs shaking constantly, you gasp against his lips as he kisses you.

“Let go, little bride. Let me marry you properly. Give me another orgasm, you feel so good when you cum.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, stars bloom over your closed eyelids as your hips jerk wildly. Then you climax hard around his cock. A long stream of moans escape from your worn throat, as your cunt spasms frantically.

With a few more thrusts, you’re dizzy with pleasure and he spills inside you. He rolls his hips as he rides out his high, only stopping when your whimpers become too loud and your hands nudge him away.

Withdrawing his hands from you, he reaches down to untie the ribbon around your wrists. He breathes out a chuckle at the dazed look in your eyes, and he guides your fingers towards the loose end of his own bindings.

Still dealing with the toll taken on your body, a few weak tugs is all you can manage, but soon enough the white ribbon falls to the floor alongside the black.

He runs his freed hands over your wrists, easing any discomfort caused with a gentle brush over his palm. A kiss is pressed against your damp forehead, before he rocks his hips forward.

Tensing suddenly, you stare at him with widened eyes. Then he pulls out slowly and a confusing mixture of relief and sadness fills you, but you don’t have the energy to analyse your reaction.

He traces his fingers through your folds, pushing his thick spend back inside you. Heart still pounding in your chest, you almost don’t hear him as he says,

“My name’s Billy by the way.”

Between shuddering breaths, you manage a small laugh before you tell him your own name. He smiles widely, licking his finger clean as he looks down at you.

Billy murmurs your name softly, attracting your attention. As he leans closer, you thread a hand through his hair, then stroke a single fingertip against one of his horns.

He shivers.

Then he reaches for you, tracing his fingers gently over your cheek.

“My beautiful little wife.”

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch

Billy Russo Tag List: @blackbirddaredevil23 @rafaelakelley @theysayitscrazy @nyx2021 @skybridgerton @dragon-of-winterfell @chickensarentcheap @stardustmorozov @sweetwritingfanficfriend @witchcraftandwit @ladyofsoa

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny

[celestialspecial]

Blood Rush

Warnings: Mentions of Blood/ 18+ themes

The pounding beat of the music seemed to reverberate down to the earths mantle. An intense light show swam across the crowd lighting them up in vivid reds and blues, purple tones intermingling on the dance floor.

The entire club was packed to the gills, heat, sweat, and sounds drowned together in one large overwhelming assortment. The entire establishment felt like it was shaking down to its foundation from the pounding bass.

So many warm bodies all in one place. Billy let his eyes close as he leaned over the side of the railing looking down at the crowd. If he focused he could pick out conversations going on all around him.

He didn’t need to strain, no, to their human ears they had to yell. His pale hands gripped the metal pole tighter as he sniffed into the heavy air. Filled with so many different fragrances. Perfumes, sweat, the stench of sex even emanated from a few of the private vip booths.

A lilting soft scent wafted over his nostrils. It was airy, sweet but not overpowering. Whatever it was had his mouth watering. It was blood. But not just any. 

He let his sixth sense drift outwards, hoping to pinpoint exactly where the smell was coming from. Ignoring the ache in his stomach, hungering for whatever delicious morsel was unknowingly going to become his next meal.

The next song started and the strobe lights flickered over the packed interior. He could feel the pulse from the DJ booth, the whole floor felt like it was moving as people jumped up and down.

In his earlier days this place would’ve drove him mad. The bursting colors, unconfined smells, the droning music. And the thirst for blood. He would’ve gone mad.

Now it was the only place he could zone out. Far removed from reality. The one place he could fade into the background and pretend. Pretend he wasn’t what he was.

You could feel the buzz start to wear off as you downed your next glass of water, the sweat streaking across your forehead. You brushed at the strands stuck to your face in a futile attempt to cool down.

You could see some of your girl friends still out on the dance floor, the vodka had in fact, helped them dance better. You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculous penis headbands two of the them wore.

Then Cassie in her short white dress with a ridiculously large sash starting “Same Dick Forever.” The micro veil now very askew on her head. 

“…and three waters please.” You smiled at the bartender. You were doing your best to be the mom friend by drinking less but you knew there was no way to get the group back to their respective apartments if you had to drag them.

Another surge of that intoxicating scent rose up from beneath him, this time a little stronger. It had Billy, craning his neck this way and that searching for its source. 

Outlined in his enhanced periphery he could see another two or so vamps sniffing into the air as well. Red eyes threading through the crowd greedily. 

I don’t think so.

This catch was his. If only he could find them.

“Awwww is this for me?!” Izzy slurred taking the water from your hand. You watched half of it spill onto the dance floor as she regained her balance from holding the cup.

“Yes. Waters all around! Drink up!” Passing the other cups out to your friends and watching them sip something non-alcoholic. 

You couldn’t help but giggle, smacking a palm to your forehead as Cassie took a long swig then made a face, realizing it was actually just water. 

“What gives?!” 

“It’s 3 am, and I promised your fiancé I’d have you home. In one piece.” You emphasized the last part, knowing that would get Cassie to relent. 

“Ughhhhh fine.” But she was smiling, her eyes still significantly glazed. 

“Alright, bathroom break then one more dance until our Uber is here.” You corralled them off to the side as you whipped out your phone, scanning the latest price increase from Uber and Lyft.

It was more than you wanted to pay but you needed to go home, and there were so many people leaving the clubs right now. 

After hitting confirm you could feel it. A cold pin prick crawling up your spine. A quick glance around and you realized no one was touching you, but it felt like it.

All you could see were groups of people dancing as magenta light poured over the establishment in waves. No one. 

Izzy said something to Meg and Cassie chuckled but it was all muffled to you. A loud pounding in your ears, your heart rate kicking up a notch. 

What the-?

Then you looked up to the balcony where the vip booths and other dancing patrons occupied. A man was staring down at you.

Black eyes and raven hair. Pale skin that absorbed whatever new flash of color the strobe lights were sending out. He didn’t blink as you continued to stare at him.

He was handsome. Not the usual handsome you liked, but a cold almost threatening kind. Jaw set on edge and slicked back hair, almost too uniform to be in a club.

The discomfort in your chest growing with each second neither of you looked away. You swallowed thickly, pushing your sweat drenched hair aside, praying a cool wind from one of the fans would wipe away the cold sweat gathering on your skin.

His nostrils flared and you stumbled backwards, knocking into Izzy and the rest of her untouched water toppled to the floor.

“Hey! What gives?” 

“We need to leave now.” 

“Why?” Cassie asked, sobering slightly at the hint of panic in your voice.

“There’s a man up there watching us.” You turned to point but he was gone. You brows drew together. “What the fuck?”

“Oooooookay. How many shots did you do while getting us waters?” Cassie giggled, nudging you with her shoulder.

“None I swear, I just-“ a small beep from your phone rang out, “driver is now arriving. Ok guys, we gotta get out of here.”

It was no small task getting the rest of the bachelorette party out, more like herding cats, but you did it as quickly as possible sparing a few extra glances over your shoulder in the process. 

Billy had pushed away from the railing and was descending the curved stairs down to the first floor. The second he’d spied the girl below he knew it had been her he’d smelled.

Was he planning to kill her? Suck the blood from her body like he originally intended? Why did he feel like that was no longer an option?

Her wide eyes had pinned him to the spot, and an arousal grew within him, the feeling he got when a hot meal was within reach and something else. Something that brought him pause.

The other vamps hadn’t located the exact scent yet so he needed to move before they noticed him gone. There was something delectable about whatever blood ran through that girls veins.

Untainted, pure. Not pure in the traditional sense of white dresses and sacrifices to volcanos, but something deeper. Bloodlines dating back centuries could give off smells unlike anything else.

Reaching out Billy could practically hear her thrumming pulse calling to him through the darkened club. He licked his lips imagining sinking his fangs into that soft skin, her scent overwhelming him.

Drinking deep, that lifeblood coating his tongue. There were so many vital arteries he could choose from. He ached to bite into her thigh, tasting the sweat on her skin in the process.

A roiling in his stomach set him on edge, only this time it wasn’t from hunger.

Some bouncer pushed past him, shouldering Billy to the side and for the first time since he was turned, Billy stumbled. 

Catching the wall only at the last moment. Placing a steadying hand on the bricks to his side, leaning against the cool stone.

A hand shot to his forehead as he felt a shooting pain streak across his vision.

What in hells name?

The Uber pulled up as best it could to the crowded sidewalk. A Prius, way smaller than the picture had looked on the screen of your phone. 

Izzy tripped on the curb sliding into the backseat followed closely by a hiccuping Meg. Cassie grabbed the passenger’s side door before stopping.

“Wait, there’s not enough room.” She squinted into the vehicle. You licked your lips, begging your brain to think of another plan. 

“Sorry ladies, my cup holder doesn’t go up in the back. Damn things stuck, supposed to get it looked at next week.”

The man gestured to  the back seat where sure enough the cup holder had dropped into where a middle seat should be.

“We can wait for another one.” Cassie suggested, hand beginning to loosen on the door handle. 

It was late and if you waited any longer it’d be $300 for any type of transport and be over an hour wait.

“You guys go. I’ll get the next one.” You didn’t want to, but you were the only one sober enough to use the app and the streets were busy enough while you waited for your ride.

“Are you sure?” She looked hesitant, Izzy was already passed out asleep in the backseat. 

“Yes, go. Tell Dan he’s welcome.” You tried to smile reassuringly but it felt forced.

Cassie noted the struggle in your voice but before she could push back, you opened the door and gently nudged her inside. 

“Text me when you get home!” She shouted through the lowered window as the car pulled away.

Shit.

Your fingers felt stiff as you tried desperately to find another rideshare, hell you’d pay through the nose for a cab at this point.

Then you felt it again. That icy sensation tingling along your spine and up your neck.

Whirling around all you could see was throngs of people rushing past into cabs, or onto the next bar that was open. 

A swirling mass of coats, hats, vibrant clothes in the hustle and bustle and then a flash of white. A pale face. A familiar face.

The man who’d been looking down at you from the club. People moved in and out, obscuring your vision of him but there he stood. 

You willed your feet to move, but your body betrayed you in every sense of the word. Run. Move. Anything. 

He was moving towards you now, each movement fluid and calculated. Why hadn’t you just shoved yourself into that damn car with your friends?

What had possessed you to just…not get in?

Somehow the neurons in your body started firing again and you were able to turn tail and run. Bolting as fast as you could down the sidewalk. Weaving in and out of groups of people.

Where the hell were you going? It didn’t matter, you just needed to move. To get out of there as fast as possible. Your sneakers splashing through a puddle as you rounded a corner. 

A small convenience stores lights called to you from just a little ways away. You could get in there and call for help. Call the police. 

Your arm began reaching out even before you could realistically grab the door handle. Fingers stretching, so close!

Then a hand shot out, grasping your wrist and tugging you into the dark alley to the side. You tripped over your own feet, tumbling to the ground, skirt catching on the rusted edge of a dumpster.

The vice remained on  your arm, but now laughter accompanied it.

“Well aren’t you a sweet little thing?” A large hulking man hovered over you, bald, with a stained shirt, beady eyes that seemed to glint red in the moonlight. He smelled sour, a thumping in your chest increased.

As if he could hear the uptick in your heart rate he chuckled to himself. Sniffing the air, bear paw of a hand holding you tightly.

“You smell delicious.” You shuddered understanding the implications, tugging your wrist even though it was futile. 

“Let me go!” You screamed even though you were sure no one could hear you. 

“Not a chance precious.” He grinned, an evil look danced across his face, mouth parting and then you could see two glimmering white fangs. Elongating before your very eyes.

Then you knew this was it. It was over. You wouldn’t get to see Cassie get married, see Izzy get her graduate degree, you’d never buy your own house or settle down yourself.

Your eyes squeezed shut waiting for the end. But then you heard a shout and suddenly your wrist was freed and the man before you was rolling across the pavement. 

His own attacker on top of him, the sounds of a scuffle and tearing flesh.

You crawled off to the side, your fingers felt numb against the cold pavement. You could hear the brawl happening to the side of you but you tried to ignore it.

Instead attempting to lift your body up, willing your knees to stop shaking so you could stand. So you could run.

A shout rang out, bouncing off the enclosed space and the bald man stumbled back a few paces. A huge hand grasping the side of his neck where blood was shooting out in spurts.

That ice water chill shot through your veins once more, the dark haired man stood back facing you, panting. His shoulders rising and falling underneath his stained hoodie.

The other man, no- vampire, pulled back eyes darting to yours.

Narrowed as if second thinking his retreat but the snarl that came from your protector-reassured the idea that leaving was the best idea.

The words froze in your mouth, was thank you enough? Could you even form a coherent thought right now? Heart still racing.

The dark haired man looked back at you and the shudder that ran through your body nearly knocked you back to the ground.

Blood soaked the front of his sweatshirt and smeared along his mouth. A mouth that held two sharp canines, equally covered in red.

His eyes looked wild, scratches marred his clothing from the fight. A lump in your throat tightened watching the drop of blood drip from his mouth into a puddle at his feet.

You felt along the wall to your side, desperate to stabilize yourself and begin running again.

You weren't sure how, maybe he could read thoughts, you'd never met a vampire before. But he was on you in less than a blink.

His hands gripped your biceps, pushing your back into the wall behind you. His eyes were so black you couldn’t see the pupil, but when the light caught on them from a passing cars headlights you swore they were red.

Your body was frozen to the spot, limp in his grasp.

“Why do you smell so goddamn good?” He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, snarling against the heated skin. 

His scruff scraping against you, his tongue darting out to lick a long stripe up the column of your throat.

The noise that escaped your mouth must have pleased him, because you could feel him muffle a sound of amusement against you.

Billy had been a vampire for so long now, years of practice controlling his hunger and urges but this girl seemed to unravel all that. 

If he’d been newly turned he would’ve torn into her throat without a second thought. Allowing the hot blood to flow unencumbered into his mouth. 

It took almost all his control to not just bite and drink all that he could. Pulling back, his once slicked back hair now falling into his face. 

Framing his pale skin and dark blood red eyes, fangs protruding as he huffed a laugh at her expression. He must’ve been quite a sight. Torn from the pages of horror comics.

Her heart was thundering in her chest, those gorgeous eyes wide and beautiful full lips parted in fear but, hell, what would they look like parted in ecstasy?

Billy could feel his pants becoming tighter just at the thought. No. He needed a taste. Something to whet his appetite, nothing lethal. 

His thumbs rubbed at the exposed skin on her arms where he held her firmly in place. 

“Please let me go.” She stammered, it was soft, pleading. It tugged at a long forgotten part of him that remained from his time as a human.

It almost worked.

“No I can’t do that. Not yet.” 

Leaning in Billy kissed the side of your neck. Sucking a long slow spot where your shoulder met in a delicate crease. Another delicately placed kiss to the clavicle, working his way up to nip at your ear.

Your treasonous body relaxed into his grasp, turning to soft putty under those strong hands that still held you in place. 

His eyes fell shut, smothering a groan against your skin as he could smell your own arousal dampening between your legs.

Why was this girl making things so much harder for him?

Some vampires chased their prey, claiming the fear and adrenaline pumping through their victims bodies was the closest they could get to a high they had experienced as humans.

Billy disagreed. Pleasure tasted so much sweeter than fear. That metallic tang was pleasant when you were a newbie. A fresh kill that had you feeling dangerous and all powerful.

But desire? Lust? There was no comparison. It trumped all other emotions flooding the system when he fed. It made him feel truly alive and lulled his generous donors into a blissful relaxed state.

In a swift movement, he had your hands pinned overhead. Holding them tight against the brick wall. He was so close to you now, his breath scattered the few stray strands of hair that had fallen over your shoulder.

A strong muscled leg inched between your own, spreading them apart millimeter by millimeter. You bit your bottom lip so hard it drew blood. 

Dark eyes immediately darted to your face, sniffing the air once. All while keeping both your hands pinned with his inhuman strength, the other hand drifting to capture your chin.

Holding it in place before sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. You cursed yourself as shockwaves of pleasure soared through your bloodstream. Both of you moaning at the sudden sensations.

“Are you going to kill me?”

The man before you pulled back at that. Eyes that had been fixed on your lips now lazily drifting over the rest of your face before making contact with your own. 

His thumb grazed your lip that was now swollen from where he’d sucked the rivulet of blood free. 

“No.” He paused, as if to say something else but then thought better of it. At that you felt your body relax, sinking against his raised leg. 

His knee rose further up, pressing into you firmly enough you gasped at the contact. He bounced it higher, your sneakers scraping desperate for purchase onto the ground, but they no longer made contact . 

“That doesn’t mean I’m not going to have some fun with you.” 

[pedrito-friskito]

what once was mine - frank castle x fem!reader

summary: frank finds his way back into your life, and asks you to teach him a thing or two.

warnings: a bit of angst, some fluff, frank being cute, unprotected p-in-v (not completely explicit but it’s there)

a/n: in a shocking twist - ANOTHER ONE of these that didn’t go how I planned originally but I love where we ended up!! enjoy lovelies 🧡

🍂kay’s autumn adventures🍂

You’ve been trying your hardest to forget him.

It’s no easy feat; Franke Castle is not a man you can simply wipe from your mind, push from your memories. He’s permanent in a way that no other man has been for you before. It’s not just the strength of his body, it’s the strength of his personality, his drive, his wit. He rumbled his way into your life without warning, and disappeared in the same fashion, leaving you gasping for air, the rug yanked from beneath your feet. You’d worried from the start that it would end up that way, that you’d get comfortable, let yourself get happy again, and then he’d be gone.

And you were right.

Doesn’t make it any easier to forget him.

It was a few weeks before you’d removed any trace of him from your apartment, boxing up the minimal clothing he’d left in your bottom drawer, tossing out his toothbrush, shoving the worn copy of Slaughterhouse Five he’d been reading into the same box, the entire thing pushed to the top shelf of your closet, as far out of reach as you could muster. Out of sight, out of mind.

There were no photos to throw away, except for the few candids saved on your phone. You’d steeled yourself for the deleting, armed with a glass of wine and a slew of tissues. The glass was empty before you even found the courage to open the app, the tissues soaked and wadded in your lap by the end of it.

You hadn’t hit delete even once, just staring at his face on your tiny screen. The day at the pier, dinner at that fancy restaurant uptown, him driving your car with your linked hands lifted to his mouth for a kiss. You swiped through them all, each snapshot hitting harder than the last. You even fell asleep like that, curled up on your couch, phone clutched in your grasp, tears on your face.

If you knew why, things would be easier. If you knew what had driven him from you, be it you or something bigger than you, something you knew lurked in his shadow, something he hadn’t been able to shake, then maybe it would be easier. Maybe then you’d have some kind of closure. But the not knowing, that’s what hurt the most.

Six months, and you’re still trying to forget him. It’s easier than it was, and there are less nights that find you staring at the bottom of a bottle, wine-stained lips and tears on your cheeks, but he still lurks in your memory like a ghost. You’ve taken to combing the newspapers, desperate for a hint, for a notion that he’s still alive, that he’s okay. But…nothing.

You’re not expecting the evidence you get instead.

Late October, and the world outside your apartment is an autumn wonderland, picturesque beyond belief. Changing colours and piles of crunchy leaves on the sidewalks, long rainy days and dropping temperatures that have you curled up under a blanket most nights. That’s where you are right now, propped on the couch, half asleep with your head balanced in your head, when there’s a knock at the door.

Confusion furrows your brow as you peel the blanket back, sliding your feet into your slippers as the knock sounds again. “I’m coming!” you call, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, cursing quietly when you remember the makeup that’s now smudged on your finger. You wipe it haphazardly on your leggings as you reach the door.

Frank Castle stands on the other side. Alive, just as stupidly handsome as your memory serves, purple bruise on his cheek and his knuckles the same. He’s clutching a bouquet of white daisies, and his jaw ticks as he lays eyes on you.

“Hi.”

“Frank,” you start, white-knuckling the edge of your door. “What are you…?”

“I know that you probably don’t wanna see me,” he says, looking down at his boots, lips quirking. “Hell, I’m sure I’m the last person you wanna see and I wouldn’t blame you for kicking my ass to the curb right now, but I just…” He holds the daisies towards you and you reach out a tentative hand, trying not to let your hand brush his as you take them. “I had to see you, baby. I had to tell you I’m sorry.”

Against your better judgement, you let him in.

The night is spent on your couch, the pair of you talking well into the early morning. He explains himself, why he had to go, why he disappeared so abruptly. Some details he tells you he can’t disclose, and you find yourself okay with that. Wine glasses are filled and emptied, and you find yourself inching closer to him with every sip. He talks with his hands more and more, and you reach for his wrist after awhile, threading your fingers through his, keeping his hand in your lap while he continues his stories.

The clock reads nearly four in the morning once everything that needs to be said has been. The daisies are in a vase on your coffee table, and Frank stares up at you with big puppy dog eyes as you get to your feet, pulling on his hand, and pull him along behind you towards your bedroom.

You pause outside the door, putting a soft hand on his chest, biting your lip when his muscle jumps beneath your palm. “You only get one second chance, Castle,” you say quietly, eyes glued to your hand for a long moment before they flick up to his. “Only one.”

He nods.

+

Come morning, he’s still there. 

That large body curled around yours, chest pressed to your back, face buried against the base of your neck. He holds you impossibly close, murmurs sweet nothings as he kisses you awake, promises to never leave you again. You want to believe him, want to let yourself give in completely to his warmth and familiarity. But something still lingers in the back of your mind, that fear that he’ll disappear on you again, leaving you aching like he had.

It feels different, as time goes on. He’s different. More attentive, more protective, more affectionate. You meant what you said about one second chance, and it seems like he knows too. Things between you are close to what was there before he left, but there’s just something different. 

He’s never been one to talk about his past, and you’ve never been one to pry. You’d read the newspapers, heard the stories, and he gave you enough detail that you could see between truth and fiction, but there was a line in the sand.

Now, it’s like that line doesn’t exist. He’s still careful with his words, telling you firmly that there are some things you are better off not knowing, and you leave it at that. You don’t ask questions; you let him come to you. You take the stories as he offers them, listening to every word and only speaking when you want clarification. He gives you answers willingly, sometimes dropping his gaze as he recounts, but then his eyes find yours again and you’re almost taken aback by the love in them.

The one thing he won’t talk about: his family. And you don’t pry. But the curiosity about the rest of it gets the better of you.

“You never wanted to tell me any of this before,” you say after he’s done talking one night. His brow furrows at the comment, and you continue. “Before you left, you kept me at arm’s length, I guess. I’m just…what changed?”

He leans forward, elbows planted on his knees, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Everything that happened, it’s a part of me,” he answers, his voice low, “and I used to think that if I told you what I’d been through, that it would scare you off. But now, I…” He steeples his fingers in front of his lips. “I’ve lost too much, baby, and losing you too, I can’t…” He shakes his head. “I won’t.”

You pull him into your chest, curling your arms around his broad body, kissing the crown of his head. “You won’t.”

+

The holiday season sneaks up on you. It’s like you blink and it’s nearly the end of November. Frank is a near-permanent fixture in your apartment once more, though he’s got his own place a few blocks over — moving in together is not a line you’re willing to cross just yet, and he’s understanding. Your family is a write-off for a thanksgiving dinner, most of them vacationing somewhere much warmer than rainy New York, and you opt for a quiet get-together with a few friends, Frank included, and you’re surprised at his request when you tell him the date:

“Would you teach me to cook?”

You balk at the question, lips pulling in a happy little smirk, brow slightly furrowed. “To cook?”

“Yeah,” he blushes, leaning on the kitchen counter. “You don’t have to, I just thought…” He trails off, tapping his fingers on the countertop, cheeks flushing an even brighter red as he stares down at his hands. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not,” you say, rounding the corner, coming to stand in front of him. You pull at one of his hands, threading your knuckles against his, your free hand lifting to cup his cheek, thumb swiping beneath his eye. “Of course, I will. You can help me with thanksgiving dinner.”

“Really?”

You lean up on your toes and kiss his mouth softly. “Really.”

It starts with a trip to the grocery store.

Frank follows you dutifully around the store, pushing the cart as you make your way down the aisles. He slides his arm around your waist when you get close, hooks his hand in your back pocket when you stray too far. It’s domestic and it’s comfortable and it makes your chest ache in the best kind of way.

He waves you off when you try to carry some of the bags upstairs, grabbing them all in one meaty grip, his other hand free to hold yours as you get back up to your apartment. You put things away, leave out the ones you’ll need for the dinner on the counter. Frank watches for a while, hanging in the doorway, before you start giving him directions, veggies to clean and chop, reheating the oven, grabbing mixing bowls.

Before long, the kitchen is buzzing with activity, pots on the stove and trays in the oven. Biscuits and mashed potatoes, three different vegetables and a turkey that Frank claims is the biggest bird he’s ever seen. You make a good team, and Frank is unsurprisingly good with his hands, staying close to your side as you move through the kitchen, taking your instruction, asking questions in that low voice of his.

“Everyone’s excited to meet you,” you tell him, the pair of you stood at the counter, Frank stirring the gravy on the stove while you put the biscuits in a bowl. 

“I gotta admit, baby,” he says, staring down into the pot. “I’m nervous.”

“Nervous?” you repeat, nudging his hip with yours. “The big badass Frank Castle is nervous?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s my first holiday in a while, all right? And I want your friends to like me.”

“They’ll love you,” you reassure him, turning to kiss the top of his shoulder. You pause, a question bubbling in your mind, but you’re hesitant, not sure if it’s crossing the unseen line that’s always existed, that he’s still kept intact even now, with the way he’s been more open. “When was the last holiday?”

His throat bobs, and you’re instantly worried, opening your mouth to retract the question, but he speaks before you can. “It was thanksgiving, actually. Before Maria, before everything…” He pauses, one fist pressed into the countertop. You reach out quickly, covering his hand with your own. “She did all the cooking, you know? I wasn’t…I was home, but I wasn’t there, not really. She did everything, and I just sat in the background, drank my beer and watched the game. I…” He clears his throat.

“Frank, you don’t—”

“I regret it,” he says, turning his head towards you but his eyes not touching your face. “I regret not being a bigger part of my family, of being gone so often, of not spending time with them when they were still…” He trails off again, setting the spoon down on the counter before fully turning to you. “I don’t want us to be like that, baby. I wanna be here, with you, all the time. For all of it. Everything. What you said about second chances, you’re right. I only get one, and I have to do it right.”

There are tears in your eyes at the thickness to his voice, the way it wavers slightly. His breath hitches, chest heaving as you slip your arms around his waist, pulling him close. You don’t say a word, just press your body against his, your heart to his, your breaths syncing with his. It’s a beat before his arms wrap around your shoulders, his nose tucked against your neck, one hand curling against the back of your head, strands of hair around his knuckles. 

He holds you for a few minutes before he’s cursing under his breath as something bubbles over on the stove, the two of you flinching apart and returning to your cooking. Once everything has settled again, he leans over to you, a lingering kiss pressed to you lips.

“I love you, baby.”

You grin, kissing him once more. “Love you, too.”

+

Dinner is a hit, and Frank even more so. Your friends are instantly enamoured, peppering him with questions all night. He answers them easily, the story you know as his cover rolling easily off his wine-tainted tongue. You fall into step with him easily, the truth sitting at the back of your head, but it’s all right, it can stay there. You know the truth, his truth, and that’s enough.

The night is perfect, the food delicious and the comforting feeling of his arm resting along the back of your chair making everything that much warmer, that much more perfect. He reaches over at one point, fingers dragging along your jaw to turn your head towards him, and when he leans over to give you a soft kiss, it’s met with a chorus of awhs from your friends.

Later, after the leftovers have been packed up, the table cleared and the dishes cleaned, Frank slots his fingers through yours and takes you to bed, quickly checking that the door has been locked and all the candles blown out before he does.

He pushes you against the bedroom door first, hands gripping your sides, fingers curling in the fabric of your sweater. His kiss is heavy, his lips tasting of wine and apple pie, his tongue insistent in its sweep across yours, tasting the roof of your mouth, prodding past your teeth. You nip at his bottom lip, earning a deep growl that vibrates from his chest to yours.

Frank finds the hem of your sweater, hands diving beneath it, glancing up your bare skin until he’s cupping your breasts, thumbs swiping across your nipples. It makes the air feel hotter, your body reacting to his the same way it always had, but this time feels different. More intense.

It’s not sex, you realize. It’s not fucking.

It’s making love.

He goes slow. He strips you down like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you bare before him. He worships your body like never before, mouth seeking out every inch of heated skin, leaving a trail of kisses and nips and laves of his tongue as he goes. 

You lay back on the bed and take him with you, hands gripping his shoulders like a lifeline. You can’t hold back your gasp when he sinks into you, pleasure replacing the very blood in your veins as he starts to move, hips rocking into yours, one hand buried in your hair, mouth by your ear, whispering sweet nothings that have you keening, stars shooting across your vision.

You return his words with your own, murmuring to him after your own pleasure crests, wanting to feel him, see him, taste him as he comes undone. You pull his face to yours, eyes locking as his mouth drops open, pupils blown wide as his hips stutter, muscles tensing above you.

The night bleeds into a blur. You lose track of time, lose count of the orgasms and the endless touching, the never-ending kisses and the drawn-out noises. It’s bliss, it’s magic, it’s perfect.

It’s love.

—————

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[ellooo0ooo]

Siren!Billy Russo🧜‍♀️ w/ short comic

Based on this post, written by @becauseicantthinkwritings (really sorry;;;) with @marvelmusing's moodboard

I missed some things a little too late for me, and I'm embarrassed about it lol sorry afkhask

Some obstacles must be overcome so it took a while to finish akfjlaksjfl

Also @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend here it is!

[saintedcooper]

It's Complicated (Francis Ch3 | Frank Castle x Reader 1940s AU)

Chapter Summary: After the attack, you awaken with some pain and a lot of questions.

Series Summary: New York, 1949. You’re a waitress trying to find your place in the world and get your footing at your new job. That is, when you’re not being very distracted by the handsome, mysterious writer who frequents the diner.

Previous Chapters: 1 / 2

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

Content Warnings: memories of past violence as seen in previous chapter, hot man cooking you healing food (dangerous stuff).

Length: 2,908 words

cross-posted to AO3.

Your dreams are full of dark tunnels and winding paths. Shadowy figures shape-shift into terrifying creatures that you can’t escape. All you hear is the sound of your running feet and your heart pounding like a drum.

You turn down a dark path and stop. There’s a figure in this one but it’s clear, not shadowy like the others. It’s bathed in white light and glowing. It’s a man with his back to you, dressed in slacks and a white shirt with suspenders crossing his back.

As you move closer, the man turns. It’s Francis. Your eyes go first to the soft smile on his lips before traveling down to the twin guns holstered by his sides.

You start to back up slowly and he frowns.

“Sweetheart?”

As you take another step backward, your foot slips. You rear lands hard on the stone path. You’re trying to pick­ yourself up when you notice bloody scrapes on your legs. You turn your hands over to find they’re there, too.

A frown forms on your face.

How did that happen?

As you observe the scrapes, tiny streaks of red slowly bloom and quickly grow.

A gust of cold air draws your attention to your ripped tights. When you reach down a hand to inspect the ripped fabric, a hand appears in the darkness and wraps around your ankle. It tugs hard, pulling you down as you scream.

With a gasp, you startle awake, your eyes flying open.

Your eyes dart around a familiar room. It’s yours. You sigh a breath of relief as you grab your chest, willing your breath to slow down.

The sun is high in the sky, filling the room with warm light and humid air. Your body is covered in a light sheen of nightmare-induced sweat.

In the distance, you hear Maggie plugging away on the typewriter.

You let the rhythm of the keys fade into the background as your mind wanders to the night before. The alley. Those men. Francis.

Francis.

Why had he been there? Thank god he was, but, it was curious.

If you were being honest, there was always something odd about Francis. Sure, he was gorgeous, but there something dark and mysterious about him. It had never frightened you, it intrigued you.

He was kind, a bit sardonic sometimes, and funny. But he was also dangerous. You knew it when he’d shown up to the diner previously with bruised knuckles and scratches. You knew it the other night when you heard him taking down your attackers.

Francis Castiglione wasn’t like other men.

That's what had drawn you to him at first. But now, that hint of mystery was real and violent.

You’d heard the way he’d laid into those creeps, his fits pummeling their flesh like it was nothing. You’d heard him panting like an over-excited dog, telling them to get up so that he could brutalize them again.

It was one thing to know he had that darkness; it was another to witness it.

You hardly know him. He doesn’t owe you anything but you can’t help having more questions than you know what to do with. If the charming writer who’s been flirting with you for months is also the man you saw last night, which face is the mask? How can you trust anything he’s ever said to you?

Even with your confusion the undercurrent of fear you feel isn’t for you, it’s for him.

What have you gotten yourself into, Francis?

With a sigh, you flip back the sheet to get out of bed. Searing pain around your torso stops you in your tracks and doubles you over with a sharp cry.

The typewriter stops and a few moments later, you hear footsteps hurrying down the hall as you slowly try lower your body back to the bed.

Maggie appears a few moments later with a cool towel and a worried look on her face. The towel still drips with water, proof of how quickly it’d be gathered.

“Thank God you’re awake! You scared me half to death. Are you alright?”

You nod and attempt a reassuring smile. It’s more of a grimace.

Trying to lie back down is too painful, you end up sitting with your back propped up against the headboard and your feet out in front of you.

Maggie wrings the towel out of one of the windows before sitting on the side of your bed and brushing the towel across your forehead.

The cool water on your skin calms you enough to begin to relax. You lean into the towel and close your eyes.

“How do you feel?” Maggie asks.

“Like I got dragged down an alley.”

She sighs. “I’m so sorry, honey. I don’t know what to say. Just thank God you’re alright and that Francis passed by at the right time.”

Your eyes fly open. Francis.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Don't you remember?” Maggie says. “Francis was headed home and heard the commotion. Those men got spooked and scrambled away.”

“Right... And how’d I get here? Back home?”

Maggie flips the towel over and brushes it gently across the rest of your face.

“Well, early that morning, I thought I heard you coming through the door. I heard the keys and the floorboards creaking, then a man mumbling or something.” She laughs. “I thought you were about to get lucky. I came out being nosy, trying to get a look at your fella.”

You watch her face as she continues. She looks off to the side and stops brushing the towel against you.

“That’s when I saw Francis with you in his arms, covered in dirt and dried blood. Knocked out. I think I must have screamed because I remember him telling me to be quiet and asking about all kinds of supplies. I cleaned you up while he cleaned and dressed your wounds. Then he put you in the bed and left so that I could change your clothes.”

She sighs. “I’ve never been so scared or so certain. It was like I just knew what to do.”

You’d liked Maggie from the moment she stepped onto your doorstep asking about the room you had for rent. You knew a bit about her past but you mostly enjoyed each other’s company in the present. She’s like your wild and free little sister. It feels odd seeing her sad because of you.

You grab her hand and she looks at you.

“Thank you, Margaret.”

She gives you a slight smile as she squeezes your hand.

You finally take a moment to notice that Maggie’s wearing her audition clothes, a smart blouse under a grey wool jacket and matching shirt. “Audition day?”

“Oh!” Maggie stands abruptly from the bed. “I heard you call out just as I was about to leave.”

She gives you a guilty smile.

“I got a call back from that audition last week.” She gnaws on her lip. “I think this is the one.”

It couldn’t be better news. She’s been a struggling artist every day you’ve known her.

“Don’t feel guilty! I’m happy for you. Please, go. I can take care of myself.”

Maggie’s expression of guilt fades quickly into amusement. “You won’t have to.”

“Oh?”

Maggie grins and leaves the room, coming back quickly with a serving tray. The tray she settles around you is loaded up with chicken and rice soup, a hearty slice of bread, a glass of orange juice, and the morning paper.

You gasp. Maggie is a lot of things, but a cook she ain’t.

“Margaret! You cooked?”

She laughs and says in a sing-song voice, “Well, somebody did. Definitely wasn’t me.”

You open your mouth to ask who else it could have been when you hear the floorboards creak in the hallway.

“Hello?” you call out just as the visitor enters your room.

Francis leans up against the door frame. He’s fiddling with his hands and looking up at you under his eyelashes.

“How you doin’, sweetheart? Alright?”

You stare back at him. His knuckles are bruised but he otherwise looks better than the last time you saw him at the diner.

Maggie clears her throat, mouth twisted to the side as she hides a smile. “I should be heading out. Thank you so much for staying with her, Francis.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

Maggie giggles on her way out of your room. Her footsteps recede until you hear the door open and close.

Looking at Francis, all of the questions floating around your mind earlier rush back in at once. You’re intensely aware of a chasm between the girlish fantasies you’ve entertained about him and the fact that you know so little about this man.

Neither you nor Francis speaks for minutes.

“’s gonna get cold,” he eventually says.

You nod, picking up a spoon. The soup smells delicious. You wonder how long he’s been here.

“What day is it?”

“Saturday.”

“Saturday! I slept an entire day?”

Francis nods. “Yeah. ‘s not uncommon. The shock, the overwhelm. When you’re safe, you just sort of…crash.”

You nod.

Wait, Saturday.

“What about Mister Cranston?”

“Museum guy?”

You nod.

“He was by yesterday. Pushy little guy. Grilled me for two hours about that night like I wasn’t the hero here.”

You smile. “How’s he gettin’ on at the museum? I hate the idea of leaving him alone. It’s a big project, he needs help with it.”

Francis wags a finger at you. “He said those would be some of the first words outta your mouth, worrying about him. He also said don’t worry about him.”

Francis gestures to an envelope on your bedside table. “He brought your pay by early.”

You scoff. Typical Mister C. You’re supposed to be paid on Saturdays for the work done that week. You’re certain that check includes pay for two days of work you didn’t do.

You turn your attention back into the soup. Some old, faint voice belonging to your mother pops into your head. “If you must eat in front of a man, dainty bites. No man wants a barn animal.”

But at your first bite of the soup, all ceremony goes out the window. The soup is delicious. There’s flavorful chicken, rice, and vegetables swimming in a rich and full broth. You wolf it down as fast as you can and quickly find yourself slurping up the broth after eating most of the bowl’s contents.

Francis’ laughter draws you out of your search for the last drops of the broth in the bowl.

“There’s more where that came from, ya know.”

You wipe your mouth, a sheepish smile on your lips.

“I haven’t eaten in two days, thank you very much.”

Francis finally steps away from the door, seeming more relaxed now. He sits on the bed, just past your feet.

You wait for him to speak, but he seems to be searching for words. He opens his mouth a few times, an “uh” or “um” coming out before he shuts it again.

You’d try to help him out but you don’t know what to say either. Instead, you grab the newspaper and start flipping through it. You’re hardly paying attention, just skimming to have something to do.

Then, an article at the bottom of the page catches your eye. As you start to read it, your breath quickens.

“WHO PUNISHES THE PUNISHER?”

Over the past several months, the criminal inhabitants of New York City have had a new kind of law enforcement to answer to. A nameless, masked vigilante—colloquially referred to as The Punisher—has been terrorizing the criminal sect, leaving in his wake a trail of dead and mangled bodies.

The Punisher has become a polarizing figure in the city, with many locals grateful to have a criminal who’s on their side, but with others wondering, “Just who does this guy think he is?”

Jeannie Serrano was a witness to The Punisher’s most recent outing in Hell’s Kitchen, during which he saved an unidentified girl from two ruffians in an alley two days ago. Neither man survived the attack.

Serrano says: “I heard a commotion in the alley on the side of the apartment. I went to the side window to check it out and there was a girl running from two men. She’s just screaming her head off and I ran to call the police but then I heard the men start yelling. I went back and there and saw some guy pummeling the creeps. You ask me, they got what they were asking for. Trying to interfere with a girl like that. It’s not right. I’m glad he did it. Maybe now girls can walk the streets without fear. Make those scumbags afraid for a change.”

But other residents aren’t quite as welcoming as Mrs. Serrano. “I don’t like it,” says Brooklyn resident Marvin Akeman. ”Who died and made him the law? Who even is this guy? I know I didn’t elect him, did you? What’s he want? We’re all just suckers sitting around thanking him and who knows what he’s got planned. He could be the worst of the bunch and you’re out here reporting on him like it’s nothing. You ask me, somebody oughta lock him up. See what’s what.”

Polarizing as he may be, if this week’s most recent events are anything to go by, The Punisher has no plans of stopping. Or being caught.

You finish with the article and find yourself just staring. You think back to the morning before the attack. You remembered seeing yet another article about the guy they’re calling The Punisher. He’s been in the news for months now but you haven’t thought much about it. You’re from a small town, you know how it goes. There are some things the law isn’t cut out to handle. You were really surprised there weren’t more people like him in the city, where there’s so much unnecessary danger.

Because you don’t have ill will or fearful feelings about the “Punisher,” you’d never stopped to wonder who he could be. You’d never asked yourself what kind of man might be wrapped up in this.

“What happened to you the other night?” you ask. “When you came to the diner. You looked like you’d just gotten out of a boxing ring. What happened?”

Francis, who had still been trying to figure out what to say to you, knits his eyebrows together and makes a gruff noise under his breath.

He shakes his head. “Nothin’. Just a little disagreement.”

You nod. Your hands subconsciously tighten around the paper in your hands.

“Like the disagreement you had with the men in the alley?”

“Exactly like that.”

An uncertain silence falls between you two. Francis doesn’t break eye contact until you do, looking down at the paper in your hands. As stoic as he can be, Francis is a fidgeter when he’s nervous. You watch out of the sides of your eyes as he cracks his knuckles, picks at his nails, and bounces his heel up and down.

You’re quiet long enough that when you speak again, Francis flinches so slightly you might not have noticed it if you weren’t so focused on him.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you say.

“Hm?” he says with a raise of his eyebrows.

You lift up and twist the paper around to show him the article. His eyes dart down to it and then back up to your face but he remains silent. You’re glad he doesn’t bother lying to you, but it’s clear you’re going to have to drive the conversation.

“D’you know I’m not from the city?”

“Yeah, I remember some of those stories about your growing up in the country,” he says with a grin. “Pretty sure you told me one about pushin’ some idiot’s face down into a cow pat when got fresh with you.”

“Exactly,” you shrug. “Where I come from, a girl had to look out for herself and failin’ that, we had to take care of each other. Maybe it’d be givin’ a face a slap and maybe that wouldn’t cut it.”

Francis nods. “I get that.”

You watch him for a moment that stretches so long he starts to get uneasy. He shifts his weight slightly on the bed and visibly swallows. A first nervously clenches and unclenches once where it rests on his leg. But he never breaks your gaze.

“I watched my gran run more than a couple of bad eggs out of town with her sawed off. Women beaters. Worse. Sometimes you have to take care of things yourself. Maybe I wish it was different but people doin’ what they’ve got to doesn’t bother me. But with you, I don’t know.”

He looks so handsome with his eyebrows knitted together and his lips pursed. You’d almost prefer to keep him confused.

“You don’t exactly owe me anything here, Francis, but I don’t understand it. It’s always gonna be someone but why you?”

Francis nods, seemingly to himself, as his eyes roam around the room. He stands and walks over to one of the windows, leaning his arm against the frame. The sun is still sat high in the sky and he squints against it.

“Sweetheart…,” he says quietly. He’s still gazing out the window, but he darts his head down as if he avoiding meeting your gaze. “’s complicated.”

You gesture at yourself.

“I’ve got time. Uncomplicate it.”

This chapter has been mostly finished for months but life does life and anyway, it's here now! I love writing these two. Let me know how you feel about this chapter. Comments and good-faith feedback are welcome.

mdni banner by @/cafekitsune | divider banner by @/saradika (sorry for the accidental tags! I have no idea what I'm doing!)

[depressedbagpipe]

"Blackbird to Robin, do you copy?" (Billy Russo x ofc)

Chapter six

Words: 5151 Warnings: mentions of the previous attack (check the last chapter for reference), mentions of PTSD, death, guns, explosions (and the aftermath i guess). poor grammar choices. change of pov, foul language, dana wants some soup. A/N: yeah, it's been a long time coming. i accidentally fell into a burning ring of fire depressive episode ft a massive writer's block but thank you for your patience and love. had to add some billy into it, too. hope you guys like it (mind you i haven't written anything in like two months so sorry for the poor grammar choices) Taglist: @badasseddy, @noortsshift, @britishbassett

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Chapter six

I felt the thick thud of my skull before I could even register I was in pain. My skin felt warm and sticky, and although my entire head was throbbing, it especially felt like a needle was constantly poking my temple. Even with closed eyes, the ache seemed to grow every second. My entire body hurt, too, and I heavily debated whether I wanted to open my eyes, too afraid of what would wait for me on the other side. 

Muffled voices and footsteps screamed from the other side of the door, the sound too distant and distorted to fully comprehend what they said, and for an instant, I panicked.

And then, like a slap across the face, a flash of black flooded my vision, and Billy’s eyes were suddenly all I could see. The throbbing in my head grew stronger and unforgiving, and dizziness overcame me. Memory was coming back in flames, and each was more painful than the last. 

Billy. The attack. Billy’s apartment. The café. Billy’s car. My apartment. Billy’s black suits. The MET. Owen. Billy. 

Billy.

The name tasted weird on my tongue. There was bitterness in it, and fear, but also comfort and power. The mix was strangely addictive, and it weirded me out even more after realizing he was the first thing on my mind after having just woken up. 

I groaned, and although the sound was distant in my ears, mixed with the slight ringing that filled the silence around me, it was apparently loud enough for the door to burst open wide. I winced at the sudden noise, but the surprise was quickly replaced by relief when the man himself crouched next to me, unannounced. My eyes were still closed, but his scent was unmistakable. The warmth that followed, although unmistakable as well, was surprising.

‘Good night, Dana,’ he whispered. His voice was uncommonly soft, and the usual sharp edge he wore like a suit was gone. I wondered if, for a second, I had imagined it, because it seemed so foreign to him. But I couldn’t deny that I liked it.  

I believed he would have shouted, screamed, yelled at me and my irresponsibility. I thought he would just give me an earful, repeating the same speech like a mantra about safety and trusting strangers. How mad he would have looked, with his eyes sending daggers into my heart and venomous words into my brain. He would’ve repeated over and over how he had been right, and how I had been wrong, and how stupid and reckless I had been and almost had gotten myself killed because of it. 

But when I opened my eyes, I found none of that. Gone was his anger and fury. Instead, I was met with a rather compassionate face, with deep lines of worry around his eyes, and his usually-tamed hair falling flat on his head, with strands gracelessly tousled and unkempt. 

My fingers twitched slightly as if wanting to reach and fix it for him on their own. But either it hurt too much to move or I was too much a coward to do anything. So, instead, I just lay there, with eyes half-closed, a killing headache, and a nervous heart. 

‘Hi.’ My throat was hoarse and it hurt to speak. My voice sounded weak, and I fought the urge to grimace at that. I knew I was weak, and yet, I hated that. Especially in front of him.

‘You gave me –us, quite a scare the other day,’ he coughed lowly, his eyes moving across my face. His pupils seemed to mix with the irises entirely, and the darkness around us created two pools of somber black that were now analyzing every single aspect of my face. I had never felt so naked, yet so alive.

His little slip-up didn’t go unnoticed, but I was too tired to even press him on it. All I could do at the time was frown, and even the movement sent another hard thud to my head. To my dismay, Billy noticed that, and brought his warm palm against my forehead and softly rested it on the skin, careful and caring. Two things I never thought Billy Russo could be.

‘The other day?’ I asked finally after registering his words.

‘At the park.’

I sat there, looking at him. For a second I thought this illusion of Billy would fade, and the anger would come back, but it didn’t. I waited, staring at him, trying not to dwell too much on the way his hand felt on me, and kept waiting, but he didn’t move. It was only then that I spoke for him.

‘The attack.’

He nodded gravely, and I could have sworn a small sigh escaped his lips. ‘Yeah. The attack.’

I frowned again. ‘The other day?’

He took his hand off, and the sudden coolness of the air made me miss his contact, even though it felt refreshing. His existence was a complete contradiction in my head.

‘Yeah,’ yet he didn’t look me in the eye this time. His hands suddenly occupied themselves by pouring water into an empty glass on the bedside table. Recognizing the round shape of the object, I finally realized I was in my bed, back at my apartment, safe and sound.

He carefully brought it to my lips and tilted my head forward, helping me. His hand cradled the back of my head, and with one touch I was hooked. If he felt any affected by it, he didn’t show it. I almost wished he did.

The cold water soothed my aching throat, if only a little, and even though I was still tired, I couldn’t help but ask.

‘How long have I been out?’

‘Three days.’

‘What?’ the shock moved my body upwards involuntarily, but pain flashed in my eyes and my back collided with the mattress rather harshly. 

Billy helped me down again, adjusting my bed covers over me as he rechecked my head.

‘You’re fine, Dana. Just… go to sleep, alright? We’ll talk when you recover,’ he said, standing up again.

‘I thought you said I was fine,’ I couldn’t help myself. He didn’t answer, but instead rolled his eyes. He started walking away toward the door, and suddenly, the prospect of staying alone became unbearable.

‘Wait,’ I called him.

Billy was already walking out when he stopped.

‘What do you need?’

It was so casual, the way he said it. So domestic. So natural. It was scary to think that, behind all that hair gel and money, there was a man. A person. A person I now needed beside me, if only to sleep. I knew that as soon as I closed my eyes, nightmares would plague my dreams. They had been haunting me ever since I closed my eyes three days ago, but my brain refused to wake up. Now I knew they were memories. And I was desperate to make them stop.

‘Could you… stay with me? At least, until I fall asleep?’

He seemed shocked at the question, and before he could refuse, I spoke again.

‘I don’t want to be alone right now, please.’

I winced again, both at the pain and at my own embarrassment. My voice felt as weak as the rest of my body, but I hated being powerless even more in front of Billy. I didn’t know what opinion he had of me, and I didn’t know if I’d ever know, but for some reason, I didn’t want him to think of me as weak. I hadn’t known him for long, but at that moment, in that state, I just wanted, needed, a break. I needed Billy to look at me and not see the desperate and frightened girl I felt at the moment. For once, I wanted to be strong, and I had just blown that away by asking him to stay with me. 

But, thank God, Billy sighed and closed the door, leaving the two of us in the dark. His movements were measured and precise as he walked toward me and to the side of my bed, taking off his shoes and placing them by the foot of the table. He didn’t look at me and I didn’t look at him as I scooted over to make room for him. Even though the space wasn’t that big, once he lay down, we both managed to fit next to one another without touching. I almost wish we did. 

The silence was deafening. I tried to control my breathing and not move too much, knowing the second I did I’d brush Billy’s arm. My blinds had been rolled down and very little light was coming from the outside, and the thought of not being able to see Billy, despite feeling his warmth next to me, was somewhat bizarre. A battle was raging on my insides, and unfortunately, the pain in my head was the deus ex machina saving the day. Everything still hurt too much: my head, my back, my pride. And yet, Billy made no noise beside me. I wondered whether he had fallen asleep, for it sure felt like hours.

‘Billy?’

Silence.

‘Yeah?’ he finally answered.

His voice was smooth, and I instantly knew he hadn’t been asleep either. This was as awkward for him as it was for me, but he still made the effort. I appreciated that.

‘Why didn’t you take me to the hospital?’

It was probably the stupidest thing to ask, but I felt the urge to keep him talking. At least his voice was something familiar. At least his voice was anchoring me to reality, instead of letting my mind wander and losing itself again.

‘It would’ve been dangerous.’

‘What if I had died?’

‘You’re not dying on me, Dana Jones.’

‘How can you be so sure of it, Billy Russo?’

‘Because they’d have to get through me first. I’m not planning on dying any time soon.’

His words weren’t romantic by any means. They were harsh around the edges, full of implications, just like him. But I liked the way he said them. And I could always blame the raging headache for such nonsense in the morning.

I scooted an inch closer, still without making contact. I rolled on my side, facing him, even though I couldn’t see him. I even heard his faint breaths, a bit rushed and erratic. What was he nervous about?

‘Thank you.’

He took a few seconds to answer again.

‘Don’t mention it.’

‘And thank you for saving my life.’

‘Go to sleep, Dana, you need it.’

‘Alright.’

Silence. It really was awkward, to say the least. Both of us were awake, sharing a bed, and yet, no one talked. It felt like hours, although they definitely were a few minutes. My breathing slowed, and my eyes kept drooping despite my intent of having them open. I couldn’t tell whether Billy was awake or not. And just when I thought he had fallen asleep, he spoke. 

‘Goodnight, Dana.’

My lips twitched slightly, and I answered.

‘Goodnight, Billy.’

…

Waking up with a killer headache wasn’t anything new to me. Many times before I had woken up with the remainder of a hungover, with mismatched pajamas and sweaty sheets. Other times, it was a flu, or a migraine, or a simple cold. I wasn’t a sleepwalker by any means, but every night brought an adventure with it. I never knew when, where, or how I’d wake up.

That day I woke up hot, cold, and alone. Again, not my first rodeo. But after realizing the events of the previous night, I couldn’t help the wave of disappointment that flooded my senses. The other side of the bed felt oddly empty, and Billy’s scent still lingered on the pillow. It was the only clue I had that whatever had happened was real. My head still hurt, and my stomach was grumbling like crazy, and despite not having enough strength to leave my bed, I did so with a groan. 

The floor was cold under my feet, even though I was wearing pink fluffy socks that definitely did not belong to me at all. I looked around my room with a frown, but everything seemed in place. Taking a quick look at the mirror next to the door, I noticed I was wearing a new set of pink pajamas, matching the socks, as well as a clean bandage across my head and arms. It was quite a spectacle, really, but my hunger got the best of me and with a final sigh, I opened the door and walked out, knowing with every single step that life was about to get a thousand times more dangerous.

Surprisingly, I found Karen sitting by the kitchen, with a mug in her hand and bags under her eyes. Her face lit up as soon as she saw me walk in.

‘Oh, Dana, thank God you’re awake!’ she almost dropped the mug on the counter and stood in front of me. 

With tentative arms, she hugged me, and the warmth that came with it had me closing my eyes in enjoyment. It had been too long since somebody had even embraced me like that.

‘Hi,’ I said rather shy. 

We were the only ones in my apartment, and I felt grateful for that. I didn’t know what I would have said had Billy been there. 

‘How are you feeling?’ her voice was low and soft, a total contrast to Billy’s. She showed genuine care, and maybe it was the concern in her eyes or the worry in her words, but all of a sudden, tears filled my eyes and fell on their own accord.

Karen quickly hugged me even harder, rubbing my back comfortingly as I sobbed into her shoulder.

I didn’t even know what I was crying about. The attack, the shock, the way my life had crumbled in a matter of seconds since Billy showed up at the stairs of my school. The tension, the pain, the fear, all of it was now going down the drain as I let it catch up to me. I lost complete track of time; I just allowed myself to stand there and break down, and Karen’s soothing presence only encouraged me further. God knew how long had it been since I had a good cry, and now it felt like the dam had broken and all the pent-up emotion was exploding in every direction, leaving me more and more empty the longer it went. 

But it felt good. I rarely allowed myself to be vulnerable, much less in front of other people. And part of me knew that the downfall was inevitable, so I was glad I was home at least. I certainly wished the situation was different, but my sanity appreciated it nonetheless.

Only after my eyes ran out of tears I dared look up. Karen’s eyes were equally reddish but cupped my face into her hands and looked me in the eye.

‘Are you feeling better?’ she asked.

‘Yeah.’

She smiled. ‘Great.’ She led me to the couch and sat me down, checking my bandages. ‘How’s your head? Does it hurt?’

I shook my head, even though it hurt after crying so much. ‘I’ll be fine. I could use a shower, though. And food.’

She smiled. ‘That’s good. Go take a shower and I’ll make you some soup. Can you stand on your own?’

I nodded. ‘I’m just tired.’

‘Understandable. Go, I’ll be here when you get out. And, Dana,’ she stopped me as soon as I turned around to leave. ‘I’m glad you’re okay.’

I smiled, genuinely. ‘Thank you. For everything.’

She smirked and nodded at me, and I left.

I didn’t want to make the situation any more awkward, and that’s why as soon as Karen resumed to her own devices, I sprinted to the bathroom, quickly hiding there and locking the door behind me. Against better judgment, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, and couldn’t help but to grimace at the view. Not only was my hair sticking up in weird shapes and places, but I still had heavy dark circles under my eyes, my lips were chapped and dry, and the skin looked like it needed some more melanin to be deemed healthy. Shaking my head I got in the shower and didn’t leave until my fingers were pruney and begging to be dry once more. 

I rinsed my skin once, twice, until it burned. Every time I closed my eyes, memories haunted me. Flashes of red and orange danced before my eyes, followed by deafening noise and terrified yells. New York attacks were nothing new, and I had seen my fair share of violence and injustice before. But this time, I had been caught in the crossfire. It had been entirely my fault, for ignoring Billy’s orders despite promising otherwise. I knew I had always had a target on my back, but, for the first time, it felt real. As selfish as it sounds, I had been directly affected by the chaos that usually ran rampant but silent in the city. And that only angered me. Because today I had been the victim, and I had survived, but deep in my gut I knew innocent people hadn’t. And that it hadn’t been the first time, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

At some point during my little stream of consciousness, I heard the front door open. I didn’t need to listen further to know it was Billy. I could recognize his footsteps from a mile away. 

With a deep breath I finally got out of the shower and dressed, and, with tentative steps, I exited the bathroom. The warm water had slightly relaxed my tense muscles, and I truly felt better after laying in bed for so long, but mentally I wasn’t ready to face Billy. I wasn’t scared of him, but I didn’t want to have a reason to. 

What I wasn’t expecting was to find Billy, Frank, and Karen talking in hushed voices, with Karen close to Billy’s face and an angry frown on her face. 

‘Don’t stop on my account,’ I said, reading the room. The tension could be cut with a knife, but I was still too tired and hungry to care.

Their heads twisted in my direction, and their sudden attention had me almost trembling in my place.

Frank stood there with virtually no expression on his face, as he usually did. Karen looked relieved, although something close to resentment emanated from her eyes. And then there was Billy.

It was the first time I had truly seen him since before the attack, and, to my surprise, didn’t look any better than I did. His hair, although freshly washed, wasn’t combed in the meticulous way he usually wore it. His clothes, too, were clean, yet he hadn’t bothered to properly tuck his shirt into his pants, and the laces of his shoes were undone. His expensive blazer lay forgotten by the entrance. And his eyes… they were tired. The creases around them were more prominent, and for the first time, he looked older. I knew he was older than me, but with his cocky attitude and his perfectly-kept appearance, I always forgot. Now, he looked his age, somewhere in his thirties, and it felt like a ton of bricks just hit me in the face at the realization. 

When our eyes met, I shied away. I still felt embarrassed about the night before, and I doubted he’d go easy on me after I could stand on my own. I really didn’t want him to be right about Owen, and I didn’t want him to remember me laying frail and cold in my bed. I had the strong urge to disappear, but it was time for me to face the consequences, wherever those led. 

‘Hey.’

‘Hi,’ Billy answered. His voice left a tingling sensation in the back of my neck.

‘Are you okay, kid?’ Frank suddenly spoke. His voice, too, was smooth, contrasting greatly with his appearance. He was dressed in his usual dark attire, yet his bulletproof vest and the grip of a gun on his waist were new additions. 

I nodded carefully, not even assessing his question. I was in no way okay, but I still had my guard up around them. I wanted to be okay. I was tired of not being fine.

‘Alright, you need to eat,’ Karen interrupted the moment bringing her hands together and led me to the kitchen, where a steaming bowl of soup was waiting for me at the small table. She slid two pills together with a glass of water as I sat down. ‘For the pain. Eat, and we’ll talk later.’

She gently patted my forehead, probably searching for a fever, but her hands were soft and I appreciated it nonetheless. It had been so long since anybody had taken care of me, that I didn’t mind it was a woman I had only seen a couple of times. I still didn’t face Billy, although I could feel his burning gaze on me, but thankfully Karen caught his attention and resumed their previous conversation, as I did my best to swallow and ignore the details they spilled on the other side of the room. 

My eyes closed for a few seconds as I took a big breath, hoping to find enough strength to face whatever was to come as soon as I was done eating. I looked at the clock on the wall by the entrance, and it surprised me to see it was noon. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to find, but I welcomed the time. I still had at least half a day to get my shit together, instead of wasting another one drowning in my own misery. But that’d come later. I just wanted to eat the damn soup.

…

I wished the soup would have been endless, because now I was sitting on the couch, with the other three adults looking down at me with varying expressions and hidden emotions. It was silent for a while until Billy spoke.

‘Tell us all you remember,’ he said. Gone was the softness, and his tone reminded me of the same one he had used when we first met, back in the interrogation room at Anvil’s headquarters.

‘Well… I was with Owen…’ I stopped and cringed. I wasn’t looking at him, but Billy suddenly stood straighter when I mentioned his name. ‘And he insisted on getting an ice cream after the museum. So we were at Central Park, and… that’s when everything went to shit, I guess.’

Frank’s face was unreadable, and Karen softly nodded. ‘Alright, no brain damage. That’s good,’ she sounded quite relieved.

‘What did you last see before…’ Billy paused for a second as if it physically pained him to talk. I found it hard to believe that he actually cared about me, but I had seen weirder. ‘Before everything went to shit?’

I took a few seconds as well. ‘I mean… Everything’s kinda blurry. Not like there’s anything wrong with me, it’s just… I mean I was terrified. And things were happening so fast and… I don’t know,’ I tripped over my words.

To my surprise, Frank nodded. ‘We get it. We’ve dealt with these situations way too many times to count,’ he looked at Billy, who shared the same expression. ‘Listen, kid, things are not going to get easier from now on. PTSD is no joke, and if you ever need to talk, we know some good people that can help. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about,’ he even cracked a smile. 

It was reassuring to say the least, that these hunks of men struggled just as much, if not more, as I did. But those flashes were all I could see at the time, and it terrified me to think they’d stick with me forever. 

‘I really don’t wanna talk about it right now,’ I said, hoping to just stop their conversation. ‘I mean, I appreciate it, don’t get me wrong. But… I just want to deal with all this when I’m ready. I’m still not sure about why things are the way they are so yeah, I guess I just need time.’ 

The three of them nodded at me. I could tell there were still a thousand things they wanted to say.

‘I do, however, have questions. I don’t wanna deal with my feelings until I know who’s making me feel like this,’ I said, with a lot more confidence than I had. ‘So what actually happened? How did you find me?’

Billy’s POV – Three days earlier

‘Shit.’ 

That was the last thing I heard from the earpiece before the explosion went off. People were running and screaming all around me, making their way out of the park, as far away as they could. My legs moved involuntarily to the source of the noise, despite better judgment. Dana was there, and that’s all I cared about.

‘Robin?’ I asked, but the static on the other side answered for me.

I picked up my pace, running as fast as I could. From the periphery of my eye, I caught many police cars, as well as my own company’s vans, trespassing into the park, followed by ambulances and paramedics. It didn’t take me long to reach the Great Lawn, my breath stuck in my throat at the sight. It had been almost destroyed, the entire green field. Burnt corpses lay around, their bodies completely unrecognizable. FBI agents were already running after the surviving men, getting lost in the immensity of the park and the echoes of their gunshots.

I looked around in a panic, trying to find Dana. Many trees were burning around me, some of them on the ground after the blast.

‘Dana!’ I yelled, raising my voice over the many sirens that blared around.

I ran along the nearest path, simply guessing Dana and Owen’s possible route from the museum. Maybe fate was on my side, after all, because only a few feet away I found Dana’s body, laying on the ground, dangerously close to a fallen and scorched tree.

I immediately kneeled beside her, pulling her up into my lap, looking over her only to find not a single scratch on her clothes. Only the side of her head was bleeding slightly and seemed to be unconscious because of it, but her heart was still beating strong and steady. Some branches had fallen on her arms as well, but nothing else seemed to be out of place.

I didn’t even have time to sigh in relief. I held her close, feeling the dread of losing her wash over me as I lifted her in my arms. 

‘Blackbird, it’s Raven,’ Frank suddenly spoke in my other ear. ‘You there?’

‘Yeah,’ I struggled a bit with Dana’s weight, taking her up in my arms and running across the park, avoiding both people and debris as I followed the direction of Anvil’s medical aid. 

‘Is she okay?’ Frank asked as I approached one of the medics by the small ambulance, dropping her carefully on the stretcher. He quickly looked over her, assessing the damage to her side, and quickly cleaning it and putting some bandage over it.

‘I hope so,’ I noticed my hands were trembling, but I couldn’t dwell too much on it. 

I only cared that Dana was alright. 

Time seemed to go too slowly. Distant gunshots and explosions still resounded behind my back, but I didn’t care anymore. The cops could handle that one. My only concern was the unconscious girl in front of me.

‘She’ll be okay,’ the medic finalized. ‘Just a hit to the head, nothing too serious. She’ll probably be out for a day or so, the shock could have gotten to her. If she doesn’t wake up by the third day, take her to the hospital, they’ll know what to do. She’ll struggle with headaches and sensory overload, most probably, and make sure she has two of these once a day, preferably with a full stomach. Sorry, Mr. Russo, I gotta help the others,’ the young medic said quickly, and after dropping the bottle of pills in my hand, he ran to the next victim.

I could only sigh in relief, quickly taking Dana back in my arms and walking towards my car, making my best to avert the inquiring press and curious bystanders who had reached the park. Dana’s head lolled to the side and into my chest, revealing the earpiece, still connected. I tried my best to ignore the weight of her head in my chest, and the warmth that came with it and spread through me as I finally spotted my car. There wasn’t anybody around, thankfully, and with some difficulty, I placed her in the backseat and drove to her apartment before the police closed the surrounding streets. 

Dissociating was my best chance, for I quickly reached her apartment complex, and after a quick scan of the area, I grabbed Dana and took her upstairs. It was my bad luck that had me coming face to face with Dana’s neighbor. 

‘Mrs. Bardot! What a pleasure!’ I greeted her with a whisper. 

She naturally seemed alarmed at the sight. An unconscious girl being carried by a man.

‘What have you done to her?’ she took big strides to where I stood.

I shook my head reassuringly. ‘Fret no, Mrs. Bardot, she’s asleep. We accidentally had too much to drink earlier on and she’s a bit of a lightweight,’ I lied. 

Mrs. Bardot looked unconvinced, and I knew what I had to do. ‘My little sleeping beauty,’ I added, pressing a kiss on her temple. It came out with a lot more emotion than I originally intended, but the weirdest part was that I didn’t feel like I was lying. Not this time.

Dana didn’t stir, and although that preoccupied me, I didn’t let Mrs. Bardot see that. She quickly smiled at the gesture and offered to help me open the door.

‘You two make such a lovely couple. Take care of her, Billy, she deserves it,’ she said as I walked into the apartment. She glared at me for a second before bidding me a good night, and closed the door, effectively leaving Dana and me back in the silence of her apartment. 

With a final sigh, I walked to Dana’s room and placed her on the bed. I even took a second to look at her, finding myself wishing the circumstances were different. I fought the strong impulse of tucking her hair behind her ear but reached her nevertheless to take the earpiece off.

My fingers still trembled slightly when I reached for my phone, quickly pressing the ‘call’ button.

‘Karen? I need your help.’

Next chapter

General Taglist: @angiewhoohooo, @azaleaniath, @mishaandthebrits, @celestialcharles, @idohknow

[stardustmorozov]

Drunk On Rose Water

Read here on AO3 Pairing: Cult Leader!Billy x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You are called to Billy's quarters for a reason he will not reveal to you on paper...

Warnings: (The dove is dead y'all) Smut, Dark!Billy, Scarred!Billy, Billy has a god complex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, cockwarming, Heavy power imbalance, use of a blindfold, dub con/non con, the word mother is used in relation to reader, implied forced pregnancy,

Wordcount: 3271

A/N: this is based on one of this moodboard by the amazing @marvelmusing whom has seemed to have made it her mission to torment me with every chance she gets... A/N: The deity depicted here is one I came up with myself so if they have any similarities or overlap with gods that are currently worshipped, these are purely coincidental A/N: Baby's first dark fic! I cannot tell y'all how nervous I am for this one but I hope y'all like it! A/N: This took me nearly four months to write but hot damn am I glad it is done.

The camp was dark around you as branches and dead leaves broke and cracked under your shoes, the cold biting at the exposed skin of your face and neck as you made your way to the largest residence in the camp. You still didn't understand why he wanted to see you this late, the words on note you'd gotten earlier that day still no clearer to you.

You'd burned the piece of paper as soon as the message had been solidly lodged into your mind, as was custom in the community you had been part of for a little over two years now and you knew better than to question his motives, knowing that the few who had had been severely punished for it. Though no one had exactly told you how. Some had said they'd been misfigured, forced to become part of the masked guard that always surveiled the perimiter of your home. Others had said they'd been murdered, or simply cast out and forbidden to ever return.

You shuddered at the thought of ever commiting such blasphemy and with a shake of your head you tried to get rid of the repulsive thought. You had been loyal to the cause your small community fought for and your god; Denadréa whom had manifested themself in the man they called Billy Russo, who was the leader of the small settlement.

The knocking of your knuckles on the faux wooden door made your heart jump into your throat as the sound rolled over the quiet camp. Knocking another two times, you turned your back to the door, as you had been instructed to do. Behind you you could hear Billy coming to the door, his heavy footfall nearly deafining in the silence of the night and the sound of the opening lock made your stomach twist.

"Good of you to come," his voice sounded behind you as you strained not to jump at how close he was. "Close your eyes."

"Yes sir," was all you said as you followed his command. Whatever he had called you here for, you figured it was important as you could feel the soft fabric of a blindfold cover your face, the final knot ending on the bridge of your nose.

Billy didn't have to ask you to follow him as he took your hand to lead you into his space and you guessed by the sound of your feet on the floor that it was made of wood, unlike most of the residences, which had laminated or parquet floors, and led you through a few doors before he stood still.

"Do you trust our god, little dove?" As he spoke, he moved around you, closing the last door behind you.

"I do."

"Good. Because he has decided to reward you for your loyalty. For your effort and your care. And I must say, I agree with him."

You felt a spark of pride bloom in your chest as he praised you, happy that your god had noticed your efforts and appreciated them.

"Will you accept his blessing, little dove?" His words ghosted over your lips from how close he was to you and you simply nodded, but it wasn't good enough for him.

"Words, little dove, I need words. Do you accept the blessing of your god?" His voice had dropped, and you guessed that Denadréa had taken control of his body as his hands wandered over your torso as he spoke, lighting a fire into the pit of your stomach.

"Yes," you said with a deep breath, "yes I will accept his blessing."

You could feel his rough hands on your shoulders as he moved you around, pushing you back until you lost your balance, landing on a bed, feeling Billy's weight on top of you almost instantly, his erection poking into your hip and the feeling of it made you panic.

This was not what you imagined when he said that you would recieve a blessing.

He kissed you deeply, and you were helpless to do anything but kiss him back as he pinned your wrists beside your head. The panic that had risen in your mind spread quickly in the back of your mind.

Leaving your hands be, he drifted down to your chest where his deft fingers made quick work of your blouse as he opened the buttons one by one, removing it from your shoulders as his lips went from yours to your jaw, down to your neck. One of his hands was quick to palm your breast as the other made its way down to undo your pants.

You wanted to question what he was doing, what he was going to do as his hand made its way into your jeans, but you knew that if you did, you would be punished. How, you did not know, but you weren't eager to find out either, so you let him continue what he was doing as he tried to pull your pants down with little result.

"Pull your pants down for me would you, little dove?" His voice is still as low as a few moments ago as his hands and mouth continued to work your body.

Part of you didn't want to comply with his request, wanted to shove him off of you and get out of this. The other part of you still curious to find out what exactly he was playing at, so you hesitantly did as he asked.

"Nervous?" There was a teasing tone to his voice, but you couldn't find it in yourself to appreciate it as you were hyper aware of where exactly his hands were on your body. Of his weight pressing down on you, preventing you from being able to easily get away from him and of the fact that his face was barely an inch from yours as his breath fanned over your face.

"Yeah."

"Your efforts have been noticed little dove, you have nothing to be afraid of. Now let your god give you his blessing to show his appreciation," he said, the same low tone slowly clearing out the panic in your head.

And it didn't go unnoticed by him. "Does my voice calm you little dove? Stop every racing thought in that pretty head of yours?"

You didn't know if he was taunting you or simply trying to stroke his own ego as he traced your jaw with an almost loving touch. It confused you. About as much as it confused you how he thought of whatever he was doing to you as a blessing and you struggled to get any words out of your mouth. Perhaps he did indeed stop every thought in your head.

"I asked you a question little dove. Does my voice calm you?" There was a beat of silence before he placed a featherlight kiss just behind your ear, the silence feeling more like a danger to you than a comfort.

"Yes," you breathed, not quite knowing what exactly to make of the situation. Should you be doing this? Should you even want to being doing this? You didn't know as he put another kiss to your lips, one of his knees nudging your legs apart so he could nestle himself between them.

The sensation of his hands on your back as he presses you against his chest to move you higher up the bed made the heat in your cheeks rise as something burns in your stomach. You couldn't tell if it was the panic and uneasyness of the situation or if it was arousing you that he could lift you like you weighed practically nothing while you kept your hands where he put them as they slid over the cotton covers.

"There is no need to be nervous. Relax, little dove," he said as he put you back down, his hands sliding under your ass to palm them before moving on, his fingers reaching around your legs as they moved downwards to your knees, "All I want is to show you how much I appreciate what you have done for us. For me," he adds as he moves one of his hands under the band of your panties, tracing circles over your mound and pelvic bone.

Between your racing thoughts, you'd lost track of who was speaking to you. Was it Denadréa? Or Billy? You hoped it was still the first, the effect his voice had on you still overwhelming as you tried to keep your head on straight.

Thinking became harder when a jolt of pleasure suddenly coursed through your body as he swiped at you clit, your legs instinctively falling further open at the action while he kissed his way down your jaw, to your chest and abdomen until he was face to face with clothed core, his fingers lazily stimulating you until he was low enough to be able to reach you with his mouth.

The sensation of his lips on your pussy made you whine, though you tried to hide it. Muffling the sound by biting into the back of your hand as you could feel him start to work over your folds and as he progressed, you found it harder and harder to hold back the sounds that were constantly threatening to spill from your lips until he suddenly stopped, kissing the inside of your thigh before he says: "Sing for me little dove, I want to know what kinds of pretty sounds I can pull out of you while I give you your blessing."

At his words you stop biting the skin of your hand. Deep, red indents of your teeth visible from the force you used to try and keep yourself quiet as you put it back next to your head. A pleased hum left his throat, the vibration of his chest making your legs give off a funny feeling and before you knew it, he had his mouth back on you and soon enough you couldn't hold back a whimper when his tongue swept over your clit in a particularly mean angle, only for him to immediately repeat the motion, drawing an even louder whimper from you which only seemed to spur him on when he started to suck on you through your panties, while you could hear the lewd sound of your soaked folds behind the cloth, making you only wetter in the process.

Pleasure buzzed through your whole body by the time he finally pulled your panties down your legs, shoving them past your ankles along with your pants and throwing them somewhere into the room. You wanted to ask if you could touch him, feel him under the tips of your fingers as you mapped out his body, hoping to get a clearer image of him.

But you refrained, he didn't tell you that you could. This was a blessing after all and touching him might break the spell of pleasure he'd put on you. You whine when he suddenly sucked hard on your clit, making you buck your hips and you could feel him chuckle as he licked and sucked at you, making your back arch while you threw your head back into the mattress.

It is only when you moan the name of your god that he stops what he's doing. You let out a whimper of frustration at the sudden loss of stimulation that had began to build your orgasm which was now quickly fading away as your mind tried to figure out what you'd done wrong for him to stop. Even though the gentle way he caressed your abdomen told you otherwise.

"Say that again, little dove?" His voice was quiet, almost as if he was revering you while he placed a kiss where one of your legs connected to your body and like clockwork, his name fell from your lips again.

"seven hundred years on this earth and my name from your lips is the prettiest thing I've ever heard."

You smiled shyly at his praise, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth and you gave him a quiet 'thank you'. He hummed approvingly, placing a kiss on the inside of your thigh before delving back into eating you out with renewed vigor, your lost orgasm quickly building back up, moans of the name of your god falling from your lips like a prayer.

Soon enough you came undone on his tongue. Any rational thought you had until then instantly left your head as pleasure took over your body.

"Beautiful," he murmured as he slowly worked you through your orgasm, lapping up whatever you were willing to give him without overstimulating you too much before shedding his own pants and crawling back over you and you wanted to sink into the matress when your thoughts returned to you.

He'd made you come undone on his tongue and you didn't even know what he looked like. You could hear your mother berating you already as you tried to hide from the man on top of you, holding your arms over your chest and closing your legs as shame burned inside of you.

"Don't hide from me little dove. Your god wants to see you." The sound of his voice relaxed you, but it was not enough to calm you down as your thoughts started to race again.

He kissed you as he pinned one of your legs to keep them open for him, his rough hands gliding over your arms to your wrist and almost gently took a hold of your hands.

"Why don't you keep them on me, hmmm? No need to hide yourself from me." The feeling of his skin under your fingertips was electrifying, while you hesitantly moved your fingers over his chest and you were rewarded with a kiss to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he sucked a hickey into it.

You got lost in the sensation of him and you hoped you could memorise every bump and dip in his skin before this would be over. Your nails turned into his skin when he rocked his hips against yours, a whimper slipping past your lips as you felt his buldge against your pussy, stimulating your still sensitive clit.

You breathed his name in a plea for more, rocking your hips into his as your nails raked over the expanse of his chest, no doubt leaving red streaks in their wake. You were rewarded with a kiss and another roll of his hips against yours. You couldn't speak with his lips glued to yours but you made it very clear as to what you wanted as you pulled him closer to you and and bucked your hips into his. The moan caused by the new friction was swallowed by Billy as he deepend the kiss even further before pulling away.

"You want my cock, little dove?" he chuckled as his face was hardly an inch away from yours, "want your god to fill you up? Fuck you until you only know how to say my name?"

"Yes. yes Denadréa, please fuck me. Please-" you begged easily, not caring how stupid you probably looked. Blindfolded and naked in a stranger's bed, begging him to fuck you properly.

He didn't wait for you to finish your sentence as he kissed you roughly while he pulled down his pants, the tip of his cock brushing against your thigh as it came free.

The feeling of him dragging himself through your folds to make sure he was properly wet made you whine and buck your hips again, showing him how desperately you wanted him.

"Patience little dove," he purred, "I won't keep from you what you deserve."

Your mouth fell open into a silent cry as he pushed into you as you threw your head back into the mattress. The blindfold around your head making you much more aware of whatever else was happening to your body, making you acutely aware of the feeling of his hands palming your ass as he slowly pushed further into you. Tears were pricking at the corner of your eyes as he filled you up, wetting the cloth on your face as you had trouble adjusting to him with little to no preparation.

Your breaths were short as you tried to adjust to him, every inch making you feel like you're far too full and it wasn't long before the blindfold was soaked with your tears as you were writhing to make him somehow fit.

"Easy, easy," he said as his hands ran over your abdomen to your hips, keeping you from moving around. "I know it's not easy, fitting the cock of a god inside of you. But you can make it fit, can't you?"

You could feel his nose against the collumn of your neck as he spoke, ending with a kiss that dissolved into sucking a deep, red mark into your skin.

"I'll help you. Just stay still for me, hmmm?"

You nodded, trying your best to follow his orders as he pushed deeper still, but it seemed impossible with how full you were and how much more he seemed to be able to fit into to you as he kept you from moving too much while you whined and gasped at each inch.

After what seemed like ages he finally bottomed out, his ragged breath fanning over your face before kissing you roughly. Beside you you could hear things moving around in a bedside drawer before he pulled something out of it.

You didn't get to know what it was immediately as he flipped the both of you so you were now sitting on his cock, gravity pushing you even further down on him.

You did not realise you'd started to move until his hand flicked against your ass, the sting of it unable to dissolve into pleasure as he kept his hand ready to strike you again.

"I didn't tell you to move, did I?"

"Sorry... I- ah-" you gasped as you tried to keep yourself still, fighting the urge to relive the burning stretch you were feeling. "I feel... so... feel so full..."

"Not used to being filled up by a god, huh little dove? All those mortals were never able to give you what you truly need," he cooed as his hand trailed from between your breast down to your pubic bone. One of his long fingers easily finding your clit, tapping it a few times, enjoying your struggle to keep still like he asked.

"N-n-no... No they- they couldn't."

"Of course not, but that is not their fault," he spoke into your skin as he pressed a line of open mouth kisses to your collarbone. "They're just simple mortals who do not know what it takes to please you."

You couldn't find it in yourself to disagree with him, even if it was not exactly true what he said. Plenty of men had satisfied you in the past, yet none of them could reach the level of the man that was splitting you open on his cock right now and bragging about it like he'd known all along.

Beside you there was the click of a button, followed by a faint buzzing sound and for a second you wondered what exactly it was when you felt it pressed firmly against your clit. The sudden stimulation made you jolt and it was impossible to not push into the vibrator as waves of pleasure rolled through you.

"Now," Billy said darkly as you slowly grinded against the toy between your bodies, "let's give you your blessing and make you a mother."

Taglist: @becauseicantthink @ramadiiiisme @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @salfira-xd @dreamlandcreations

[fluffyprettykitty]

Pride, brown, dutiful, & country, for Brock Rumlow and Billy Russo? 👀

Congrats on your milestone again 💕💕 this is such a great idea, I love it

Pairing: Billy Russo x female reader x Brock Rumlow

Word Count: 1071 words

Outline: Billy is not particularly fond of his unique deal with Brock but he would do anything to make you happy.

A/N: So, this took a while to brainstorm alongside @alohastyles-x but finally I decided to go with pure filth and an interesting dynamic just for the thrill of it ;)

Warnings: swearing, oral sex (f + m receiving), daddy kink, spanking, spit play, pet names, dirty talk, double penetrative sex, roughness, nipple play, fingering, slight pain kink, cumshot, anal play.

Minors dni!

Main Masterlist ・❥・Sleepover Masterlist ・❥・ Billy Russo Masterlist

"Turn around." 

Brock's commanding voice makes you leave Billy's cock with a pop, turning your attention to him. 

"Yes, daddy?" You smile, saliva and cum dripping down your chin, and use your fingers to press the excess inside.  Brock is slowly stroking his cock with a concentrated expression on his face. 

"Suck." He commands and you know how to follow an order once you hear one. His cock is fat and girthy, pre cum already dripping. Billy comes up from behind while you begin to kitty lick Brock's cock with the tip of your tongue. 

"Always coming second, Rumlow." Billy chuckles and lands a hard spank against your ass cheeks making you squirm while trying to wrap your lips around his cock. 

"Not even close. You had her here all morning long. She looks completely unused. Not my fault if you don't know how to use her properly."  You bop your head down his length, Brock's big hand wrapping around your head moving you along his cock, his hips pushing it deeper inside you. 

"She's begging to get perfectly fucked. God, look at her. Look how she moves her ass for you." You are backing your ass for Billy, wiggling, and Billy is licking his lips before spanking you again causing you to gag on Brock's cock. Brock pulls your head away from his cock, saliva dripping down your face again and you look up to him with doe eyes. 

"Billy doesn't know how to fuck you, little pet, he leaves you all neglected and needy. I think is time to show him. " He slaps your face with his dick before pushing you on the bed. Billy falls back on the bed and you climb on top of him. 

The truth is that just five minutes ago he had cummed down your throat, fucking your face so devilishly and furiously when he had heard Broc pull up with his motorcycle. It was thrilling and exciting, this arrangement you had.  

“Ride his cock.” Brock commands you and you begin to position your self. 

Your pussy was wet and ready. You sink down on his cock, taking him in inch by inch, landing your hands on his chest. Brock comes from behind you and kisses your neck possessively. He didn't like sharing at all but you were Billy's girlfriend first. You knew very well what was coming next, Billy put his hands on your hips moving you slowly, lifting you a little up giving space to Brock. 

Brock entered you from the back, their cocks so close to one another and the series of moans that left your lips sounded like the best symphony. Often they fucked you like this exhausting you by trying to outfuck one another. They were relentless, Brock was girthy and big, Billy was lengthy and it was easier for him to cum than Brock. 

Slowly Brock adjusts his length inside you pushing you then on Billy's chest. With a smirk, he begins to fuck you hard pushing you on Billy who is trying his best to match his pace. You liked this game, sometimes you wondered if they wanted to fuck each other and you were just the vessel but most of the time you only cared about getting fucked open.

Brock's bicep wraps around your throat lifting you up and Billy follows suit fucking you back at the best of his abilities. Where Billy was gentle Brock was rough, where Brock was a menace Billy was delicate with you. Billy loved you, Brock just wanted to fuck you stupid. Getting lost in the pleasure and the sensation, allowing yourself to feel everything. It didn’t happen as often as you’d like. Unfortunately, they were both busy men. 

You can feel Billy's head going to your breasts, darting out his tongue and licking your nipples, but Brock was moving you fast causing Billy to pull at your nipples. A little pain was always good, you liked it rough and dirty. 

Once Billy moves his one hand to your pussy you begin to orgasm so beautifully and loud, your whole body shaking. That’s what one of the rules, being Billy’s girlfriend meant that he could make you cum whenever he wanted and Brock sometimes took offense to that. Brock slows down for a moment and then he pushes Billy down on the mattress and lifts you off his cock. He slips out of you and turns you around grabbing you by your hips and lifting you up against the wall.

Oh, he was pissed. 

He buries his face between your thighs so fast and begins to suck at your oversensitive clit. He didn't like the fact that Billy had made you cum, not at all. Your thighs clench hard around his face and you watch as Billy comes closer to you, gently kissing your arms, your fingers buried inside Brock's short hair. The thing is that Billy had fucked your face so fast and rough earlier that had already made you so sensitive. Your pussy had been begging for some attention and you and Billy hadn’t had the chance to be intimate since the early morning.

It doesn't take you long to cum, hitting vocal highs you didn't know you had. It feels glorious until it doesn’t. Brock doesn't pull his face away no matter how much you push him away not until Billy shoves him off with both hands. You breathe out and Billy catches you holding you in his arms. 

“I wanna cum on her face.”  Brock commands and your boyfriend reluctantly helps you kneel down. Obediently you pull out your tongue and open your mouth wide like a puppy. Brock strokes his hard length with loud groans and he shoots his load on your face. You're happy, you love being used. You loved this game becoming their sex toy, their pet. Billy pets your hair sweetly and pats your head praising you for doing a good job. He knew this wouldn’t come from him. 

"I will shower. Have her asshole ready for me when I return." Billy looked as if he wanted to murder him right there but your blissed-out face and your nodding made him reconsider.

By the time Brock was out of the shower Billy had you ready and stretched, your ass up in the air. 

“Perfect. “ He says rubbing his hands together, his cock as hard as before. 

“Let's get to business, Billy boy.”

for updates follow @fluffyprettykittylibrary!

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

sneaky

Summary: Your best friend is getting married. And Frank, her father, can’t keep his hands off of you for the entire day.

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem. Reader

Wordcount: 2.8k

Rating: E

Warnings: age gap (legal), established (secret) relationship, jealousy, sneaking around, smut (unprotected sex), Public sex, fluff

Masterlist

You smiled when you felt lips on your shoulder, looking at Frank in the mirror you were standing in front. 

He was wearing the suit you had helped him buy. Dark dress pants, crisp white dress shirt, still unbuttoned. No tie.

“You look beautiful,” he hummed, kissing your shoulder again as you put the finishing touches to your make up. 

You were late. 

Very very late. 

Which was completely Frank’s fault.

Well… Maybe you shouldn’t have spent last night here and slept in your bed for a change. Not that you did sleep very often in it.

It was your best friend's wedding day. 

Frank’s daughter's wedding day. 

You and Lana had known each other since kindergarten. Four year old Lana had punched Jeremy Clark into his nose because he had taken your colouring book from you and made you cry. 

It was that day that you saw Frank, back then it was Mr. Castle to you, for the first time. 

You remember being scared of him at first. He was tall and his voice was deep and loud and you had hidden behind your mothers legs when he introduced himself. 

You definitely weren’t scared of him anymore. 

When Lana had gone to college and you had to move out of your parents place because they were getting a divorce and had sold the house Frank had offered you to move into Lana’s room while you searched for something on your own. 

Your mom had moved to another state for a new job and your father had moved to another country, leaving you with the choice of where to go.

You would be lying if you were saying you did not have a crush on Frank Castle growing up. 

You spent more summers in his house than at your own, even more so after Frank got divorced and Lana chose to stay with him. 

Both you and Frank hadn’t seen it coming. 

That you would fall in love with each other. 

He was everything you could have ever dreamed of. So much so that you both decided after almost two years of sneaking around it was time to tell people.

But first you had to make it though your best friend's wedding. 

She had met Kevin in college, fallen head over heels for him. Even Frank, much to his disappointment, couldn’t find anything wrong with the guy which is why he couldn’t even say no when he asked for his baby daughter's hand. 

Now Lana was 22 and about to be married. 

And Frank was happy, he really was. But he had told you that it was hard to think of his daughter as married. 

“Will you come home with me tonight?” he asked and looked at you. 

“I live at your place, baby,” you smiled. 

“Not all the time. You left me to go to college. Everyone leaves me,” he whined dramatically and you rolled your eyes before you got up from your chair and crossed your arms behind his neck, smiling softly up at him. 

“Not gonna leave you ever, Frank Castle,” you vowed and he gave you a shy smile before he crossed the distance and kissed you softly. 

You sighed against his lips, your fingers playing with his hair. 

“I gotta go,” you mumbled against his lips. 

“I know,” he kissed your nose. 

“Can’t wait to strip you out of this dress tonight,” he whispered against your ear, giving you a slap on your ass, as you groaned. 

“You’re the worst, Castle,” you pouted and he pecked your lips again. 

“But you love me anyway.”

As the maid of honour you were standing next to your best friend when she married the love of her life. You were in tears, holding on to her flower bouquet as they vowed to love each other forever. 

You glanced at Franke, sitting in the front row next to his ex wife as he looked torn between happy and sad. 

He gave you a small smile which you returned before you looked away again. 

Weddings were not something you ever thought about. 

You never saw yourself getting married. Of course you were still pretty young. 23 years younger than the man you were in love with. 

Would Frank want to get married?

That would make you…. Your best friend's stepmother. You grinned to yourself just when applause erupted around you, your best friend now officially married. 

You gave her the flower bouquet back, before they kissed again and then made their way down the aisle. You looked after them before you stepped forward, your hand resting on Alex’, the best man, elbow as you followed them shortly after. 

“You know what they say about maid of honour and best men, huh?” he whispered against your ear and you looked displeased at him. 

“Really? You’re going with that?” you asked with a raised eyebrow after you parted from him. You caught Frank coming down the aisle, giving you a questioning look.

“Lana told me you were single. Thought I’ll shoot my shot,” Alex shrugged. 

“Well. I’m not single, so consider your shot blocked,” you smiled before you walked towards Frank. 

“You okay, honeybee?” he asked when no one was close and you nodded. 

“Lana apparently wanted to set me up with the best man,” you sighed. 

You were walking side by side up the hill, the wedding ceremony had been close to the lake of the hotel Lana had chosen as the location. 

Frank looked at you and you fought the urge to let your head fall against his shoulder, and your hand taking his. You were tired of hiding this. 

Of course you ran the risk of losing your best friend once you came clear but you had the feeling that she would be okay with it in the end. 

“That’s… nice of her,” Frank said and you looked up at him suspicious. His nostrils were flared and he was moving his jaw. You couldn’t help but smile. 

“Are you jealous, Mr. Castle?” you asked sweetly and heard him breathe in deeply. He looked around before he pulled you towards a line of trees, away from the crowd, taking your hand when you were out of view and pushing you against one. 

“I don’t like other people touching what’s mine,” he hummed, his nose brushing against your cheek before he kissed you. You pulled him closer, your hands in his hair as he pushed his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands pushing your skirt up until his big hand was squeezing your ass. 

“I’m not jealous,” he hummed in between kisses. “I came inside of you four hours ago, I’m pretty damn sure you’re mine,” he sucked on your bottom lip as you moaned quietly. 

“Why does you saying stuff like that make me so fucking horny?” you giggled against his lips and he let his head fall against your forehead. 

“You’re always horny,” he smirked and you rolled your eyes. 

“Not horny enough to let you fuck me against this tree out in the open before the reception of your daughters wedding,” you said and he sighed. You smiled, your hand running down to rest on his chest.

“Maybe after the reception?” he asked and you punched against his chest making him laugh. 

“Just the Father of the bride and the bride now,” the photographer said and you stepped away, stopped from leaving by your best friend holding you back. 

“I want a couple of the three of us. We basically spent our whole life together in my Dad’s house,” Lana grinned and you smiled at her. Frank approached you, his sunglasses resting on his nose, a big smile on his face. 

“Get in the middle Dad and take those glasses off,” Lana instructed and Frank did you, wrapping his arm around her first and then around you, looking down at you with a soft smile you mirrored before you looked towards the camera. 

It must have only been a split second but neither of you knew then that it was enough for the photographer to shoot a picture that would end up framed on his bedside table.

You knew Frank was an attractive man. 

But you were unused to seeing him all cleaned up and in a suit.

It was doing things to you and more than once he caught you looking at him, giving you a knowing look before you looked away again. 

It was after dinner, the sun already setting that Frank found you again, pulling you back outside and leading you back down towards the treeline from earlier. He squeezed your hand, walking farther until you almost couldn’t hear the noise of the many guests of the wedding. 

You were about to ask where he was taking you when he pulled you against him so he could kiss you. 

Smiling against his lips you crossed your arms behind his neck, letting him walk you backwards until your back was leaning against a big tree. 

“Can’t wait until we’re back home,” he mumbled, his fingers finding your panties under your dress, pulling them down your legs. He pulled them into his pocket before his hand was cupping your cunt, finding your soaked. 

“Honeybee I wanted to give you my fingers, but I don’t think you need them, huh?” he grinned, kissing you again. You shook your head. 

“Just fuck me baby. Please I need you,” you whimpered and he chuckled. 

“Already begging for me. My honeybee,” you helped him with his belt, pulling at the zipper of his pants until you wrapped your hand around his cock and he groaned. 

“Turn around,” he said and you let go of him, turning around, resting your hands against the tree. He pushed your dress up, taking a step closer, his hands on your hips and his cock rubbing against your pussy. 

He groaned. 

“Always so fucking wet for me,” he praised an you bit your lip, one of his hands leaving your hips. You looked over your shoulder, seeing him spit down on his cock, pumping it a couple times until he lined himself up and slowly entered you. You sighed, letting your head fall down.

No matter how often he fucked you, it was always a stretch. 

A delicous fucking pleasurable stretch you were addicted to.

You both moaned quietly when his whole length was inside of you. 

“Frank please. We gotta be quick, people will notice…. Fuck,” he thrusted hard. Just once and you felt all air leave your lungs. 

“Can you keep quiet for me?” he asked, beginning to fuck into you from behind, both hands groping your hips.

“Baby…” you whimpered, and he slapped your ass, making you cry out. 

His hands left your hips and he pushed you closer against the tree, one of his hands over your still covered tits, his other hand coming down beneath yours on the tree.

He thrusted faster, harder, your head falling back against his shoulder as you tried to keep yourself from moaning too loud, definitely failing as his hand wrapped over your mouth. 

“Want you to scream my name when you cum on my cock,” he snarled against your ear, kissing your temple before he picked up the pace. You felt his other hand run down your body, until his fingers rubbed over your clit. 

“You gotta cum honeybee. I’m so fucking close…” he put two of his fingers inside your mouth and you sucked them, moaning around them. 

You had trouble keeping yourself upwards, your orgasm quickly approaching. 

“Cum. Now,” he hissed against your ear, slapping your clit once, twice…. And you came with a cry the third time, your arms against the tree shaking as he fucked you through it. 

“Yes… Fuck yes. Just like that. Squeezing my fucking cock… Shit…” he groaned and you felt him pulse inside of you as he came, pumping you full of his cum. 

You took deep breaths, trying to get back to this planet as he kissed your shoulder. You turned around, finding his lips in a soft kiss. 

“Come one, we gotta dance,” he said and you rolled your eyes with a small laugh. 

“How do you expect me to walk after you fucked me like that?”

Slowly. 

Was the answer to that. You walked slowly back up the tree line, his hand in yours until you were too close to the party. 

Your heart ached and you could see in his face that he wasn’t liking it either, but it was only a little while. You decided to tell everyone after Lana’s honeymoon. 

Ready for all consequences. 

You were sitting at a table, an almost empty glass of champagne in front of you when he sat down next to you. 

“Really Frank? Another piece of cake?” you laughed and he pushed it towards you.

“Gotta make sure you’re fed for what I’m planning with you later.”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow. He just winked at you. You shook your head with a laugh before you began to eat. 

“You have the other cake?” you asked, he nodded. 

“Want a taste?” he asked. 

“Kinda, yeah,” you said, your fork already reaching over the table but he was holding his up for you to take. 

“Open your mouth,” he said and you took a look around. You were still around a lot of people but everybody seemed to be occupied. 

“Please,” he said and you smiled before you parted your lips and let him push the fork with the cake inside your mouth. You closed your lips, humming as the flavour exploded in your mouth. 

“Good. That was pretty good,” you nodded and saw Frank sucking his bottom lip in as he looked at you, before he took a deep breath and shook his head. 

You giggled, reaching for his hand under the table. 

“I love you,” you whispered and he gave you one of those soft smiles you loved so much.

“I love you too.”

“Oh my god,” Lana huffed a laugh, now sitting beside you. 

“What?” you asked, following her line of sight, seeing Frank on the dance floor. You chuckled. 

He was really getting in there, his body moving as he danced with his ex wife. 

“He looks happy. Happier,” Lana said and you smiled at her. 

“Yeah. I think he does.”

“You do know I would never set you up with Alex, right?” she said and you looked at her confused.

“You wouldn’t?” you asked. She shook her head. 

“Just wanted to see Dad’s reaction. And I was not let down,” she grinned and you looked at her with big eyes, a nervous flutter in your belly. 

“You know?” you asked and she nodded. 

“Wasn’t sure for a while but I saw you two kissing on the BBQ for your birthday last year?”

“Last year?” you asked, now completely flabbergasted and she giggled. 

“Yeah. And you both look happy.”

“We wanted to tell you. After…”

But Lana just shook herhead, taking your hand. 

“I understand why you didn’t. I wouldn’t know how to tell you I was in love with your father too,” she teased and you laughed. 

You looked at Frank who was now dancing with one of the bridesmaids. 

“Go and dance with him. I know you want to,” Lana said, squeezing your hand before she left to go to the dancefloor too, going to her husband. 

You watched them dance for a moment, before you got up and walked over to find Frank. 

“Mind if I cut in?” you asked the woman he was dancing with and she frowned before she shrugged and walked away. 

“You really wanna dance with this old man?” Frank asked, his hands wrapping around yours as he made you twirl. You laughed, one of your hands resting on his shoulder after he twirled your back against him. 

He looked down at you, his eyes searching yours when you didn’t move. 

“Lana knows about us,” you whispered and his eyebrows raised.

“She’s known since my birthday last year,” you chuckled.

“Seriously?”

You nodded. You caught Lana’s eyes over his shoulder and he turned his head, looking at his daughter, who winked at him. 

“Good,” he said and you frowned.

“Good?”

“Yeah. So now I can do this,” he hummed before he kissed you. 

[hb-writes]

My Boss or My...Billy?

Summary: Lenny (OC) takes on a temporary role at Anvil and Billy steps in when he sees her struggling with some of the other employees.

Characters: Lenny Falconio (OC) & Billy Russo.

Request (from 💜 anon): Hello! For June requests how about, “They hate me.” & “I will prove you wrong. Just watch.” For The Punisher pretty please 💜

Content Warnings: Allusion to sexist/ agist behavior. Some language.

Life As We Know It (The Punisher) Masterlist

Please take a moment to tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️

Billy leaned in through the open doorway and watched as Lenny shifted her gaze back and forth from her computer screen to a spiral notebook on her desk. Back and forth, back and forth. Her gaze shifted between the two maybe four times without noting his presence.

“How’s it going?” 

Lenny was mumbling something under her breath when he finally said it and she froze, her shoulders quickly and discreetly rolling to release the bit of tension gathered there before she glanced up. Her facial expression shifted as her gaze did and she ran a hand through her hair before forcing a smile.

“Good,” she answered as her eyes slipped back to the infernal computer, her fingers itching to reach for the mouse and minimize the screen while Billy was still on the other side of the room. “Um, but yeah, it’s great,” she added as she turned back to him, subconsciously nodding her head as if she was trying to convince both Billy and herself that yes, that was the truth. Things were going great.

Fantastic. 

Absolutely perfect. 

Lenny reached for the iced coffee that had melted hours ago, sweating a ring of condensation onto a napkin. 

“You need something?” she asked as she took a sip. 

Billy let out a soft snort as he pushed off the door frame, striding across the small office in a few short seconds, not quite sure what he was snorting at—her attempt to pull one over on him or the fact that she was sipping iced coffee in December. 

Billy pulled his eyes from Lenny to look around the room. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in that room specifically. Paul, his permanent office manager, had always brought things to him. Billy had never had any need to end up in his administrative office. 

Not that he really had a need to be there now. 

He could’ve gone home. He’d finished his work for the day over an hour before, but couldn’t bring himself to leave, not with the light from Lenny’s office still shining in the hall, so he lingered, taking care of little tasks while he found himself wondering how Lenny was faring in the little windowless room down the hall. 

She was only covering the position for him temporarily, helping out while the regular guy was on medical leave. It had been Maria’s idea, and because Lenny hadn’t immediately said no to passing her time between semesters earning a little cash, they had gone ahead with it, but less than a week in, Billy could tell Lenny wasn’t loving it

He didn’t love it either, didn’t like the distance and the weird pretense that was coming into their dynamic now, some sort of power shifting between them that had never been there before. 

“Just wanted to check in,” he offered. 

“How often did you check in on Paul?” she asked, her eyes back to shifting between the notebook and the computer screen as her tone shifted. “And don’t you dare tell me it’s different.” 

Billy smirked, a distinct part of him glad for the sharpness of her tone, all that boss-employee pretense slipping for a moment. He raised both hands in surrender even though he was well-poised to explain how it was different. For a multitude of reasons, not the least of which being that Billy cared about Lenny, not that Billy didn’t care about his employees. She was the sister of his best friends. Family. And sure, she was smart and he knew well-enough that she could hold her own, but she was a college kid on winter break in an office full of male veterans.

Paul was ex-military and had been with the company for years. 

It was different.

“And whatever reason you’re currently thinking makes it different is probably sexist and ageist and—what?” she asked, slamming her pen down.

“Nothing,” Billy said as he eased himself into the seat across the desk from her. “You’re just right is all.” 

Lenny smiled to herself a little, picking up her pen and reengaging in the work. 

“Are any of your other co-workers being ageist…or sexist?” he asked. “Or is it just me violating the HR code?”

Billy would have liked to believe his men weren’t those things, but even he could be flawed in that way, well-intentioned or not. He wasn’t blind to the fact that it was a bit of a boy’s club. He knew some afternoons, the place took on an attitude akin to a college frat house, especially when there was a girl around. 

Lenny didn’t pull her eyes from the notebook as she started writing out something. Billy shifted in his seat, leaning forward. 

“No one’s giving you a hard time?” He knew a few of the men had historically given Paul a hard time about getting timecards in on time, and that had been before they tried to get everyone on board with the new system. 

It wasn’t easy getting the guys to adopt anything new, and Paul hadn’t been walking around in heels and skirts and dresses trying to do it, either. 

Billy had told her it wasn’t necessary. She could dress as casually as she usually did, but she’d only countered by saying that he wore suits and it was a reflection of his company, a reflection of him, so he’d let it go. 

“Are you asking as my boss or my…” she asked, her pen stilling even as she kept her head down. “My boss or just Billy?” 

“They’re not two separate people, Len,” he answered. “Just tell me what’s up.” 

Lenny sighed, leaning back in the chair as she rubbed her hands over her tired face. “I think they hate me,” she groaned, heaving an even larger sigh. “This whole new timesheet thing…they—”

“They don’t hate you,” he answered. 

Lenny scoffed. “Yeah? Did they tell you that? Because I’m now the face of this new system and—”

“Who’s giving you a hard time?” 

Lenny stilled, her complaints shriveling up as her mouth went dry. Billy had asked the question in a calm, steady voice. It almost sounded casual, but she knew it was a dangerous question. 

“Tell me who’s giving you a hard time and I’ll take care of it.” 

Lenny shook her head. “It’s not a big deal, Billy.” 

“It’s affecting you and it’s affecting the payroll, so whatever it is, whoever it is, I’m gonna squash it.” 

Billy held her gaze and something about how settled he seemed, something about that determination made her stomach flip. 

Lenny glanced at the screen again. Billy was probably right. At least half the guys hadn’t submitted on time. She had reminded them all before they left for the day, but that had only earned her a few more time sheets and a handful of comments she’d rather not repeat. 

“What…well…” she started, “How…how would you typically handle something like this? Hypothetically speaking?” she asked.

“Not hypothetically speaking,” Billy said, slipping his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll call for a mandatory staff meeting tomorrow at zero-four hundred and we’ll address it.”

Lenny gulped, every part of her recoiling at the mere thought of the hour. “I don’t think that’s necessary and it’s already too late anyway. You can’t...” 

Lenny’s words fell away as her computer chirped, announcing an incoming email from Anvil’s CEO.

“They’re not following orders, disregarding the chain of command,” he answered. “It’s absolutely necessary. If they can’t follow orders on this one simple thing, how can I trust them in the field?”

Lenny shook her head. She didn’t have an answer for him. Not in regards to that. Or in regards to anything with the business, really, but she couldn’t help but feel dread as her mind cataloged more than a few ways that it might go sideways, creating more trouble than it was worth.

 She’d get the work done, whether his guys were pleasant and cooperative, or not. It might be late, it might be a pain in the ass, but Lenny thought that might be better than sitting through this meeting. 

Billy watched Lenny rub her hand over the back of her neck. “What is it? You don’t trust me?” 

Lenny seemed to contemplate his question, considering her answer carefully as he shifted back in his chair, casually crossing a leg over his knee. 

“I just…I don’t know if it’s the best way to go about this. You’re going to make them hate me even more than they already do.” She set her elbows onto the desk as she said it, leaning her head down to rub at her temples.

Billy shook his head as he sat up straighter. “Listen. Just follow my lead tomorrow. They might hate me when we’re through, but I’ll make sure the rest of your time here is nothing short of pleasant. Just need you to trust me on this, alright? Can you do that?” 

Lenny’s stomach continued to whirl and she continued rubbing her temples, keeping her eyes closed to avoid his gaze. To avoid answering the question.

He let it go for a moment, watching the clock as he gave her thirty seconds or so to consider it before prompting her. “Elena?” 

Lenny opened her eyes at that, glaring at him as she turned her gaze up to him. “What, William?” 

Billy let out a soft laugh, the smirk going so far as to reach his eyes as she continued glaring at him. “Alright, seriously,” he said, schooling his face into something more solemn. “Do you trust me?”

Lenny took a slow breath. “As my Boss or…” she stumbled over it again, the instinctive ‘my’ on the tip of her tongue. “Or as Billy?” 

Billy raised an eyebrow. “I already told you they’re the same guy. C’mon, Len. Quit avoiding the question. Do you trust me or not?” 

Lenny rolled her eyes. “Yes, I trust you, but—”

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head as he stood up from his chair. “No buts. You said you trust me and we’re leaving it at that.” He nodded toward the computer. “Shut all that down for the night. Am I putting you in a car back to Bayside or are you staying with me tonight?” 

Lenny clicked through her screens, saving her work, not even bothering to pull her eyes away. 

“What kind of question is that? My asshole boss just scheduled a mandatory meeting for zero-four hundred that isn’t even going to do anything and…” Lenny glanced up, surprised he’d let her go on for that long uninterrupted, but he was just standing there, leaning against the open doorway with arms crossed over his chest, a soft smirk on his face. 

“Was all that supposed to mean I should call a cab?" He fished his phone out of his pocket. "You don't want to stay in the asshole boss who came up with the greatest solution to our problem’s guest room?” 

Lenny shut down the computer and gathered her things before striding across the room, rolling her eyes and heaving an exasperated sigh. 

“Of course I'm staying over,” she said as she pushed his phone down. "Thank you," she added, truly grateful for the option. Grateful for both. She knew he really would have paid for a car to take her home, too. Billy wouldn’t leave her to take the subway across the boroughs at this time of night, no matter what the cost. But seeing as it would take her over an hour to get home, and another to get back in the morning, the offer of his guest room was far better. “But no, boss, I don’t think this is even close to the greatest solution to my problem,” she said, mocking him a bit.  

“Alright, fine,” he said as he guided her out of the room, walking them both towards his office at the end of the hall so he could grab his things. “But come the end of that meeting—”

“Come the end of that meeting, they’ll be throwing tomatoes at both of us,” she interrupted as Billy stepped into his office, leaving her to stand by the threshold, her bag slung over her shoulder and her arms crossed over her chest  “And don’t even make a joke about Oscar the grouch. I walked right into it, I know, but—just don’t, alright?” 

Billy chuckled, conceding her that even as the jest had been poised on the tip of his tongue. 

“Alright, but only if you admit I’m right about this meeting.” 

Lenny scrunched her brow and constricted her face as if she’d bitten down on something sour…maybe the mere idea of admitting out loud that Billy was right about something was sour enough to do that. 

"No," she decided as he finished gathering his things. “I will do no such thing.”

Billy snorted as they both moved into the hall. A silence settled between them as they took to the stairs, both of them thinking about the meeting just a few hours away. He was locking the front door, Lenny gently hopping from one foot to the other to combat the sudden chill when Billy offered what he thought was a final word on the matter.  

“I know you don’t believe me, Len, but I will prove you wrong on this,” he said. “Just watch. And when I do..." He pointed a finger at her. "Then you’ll be singing this asshole boss’s praises.” 

Lenny scoffed. “You prove me wrong and I’ll sing whatever you want, Billy boy.” 

“Deal.” 

Lenny’s eyes widened at the hand Billy held out to her and she let out a nervous giggle. She had mostly been joking about the singing bit, but Billy’s lingering hand told her that he was taking her at her word. She cautiously slid her hand from her pocket, the chilled air biting for only a moment before she fit her palm against his. 

“Fine,” she huffed, “but when this all goes to shit tomorrow morning, you’ll be singing whatever I want.” 

Billy gave her hand a firm shake before stepping away, whistling a tune it only took her a few moments to recognize. 

She hadn't heard it in years, but she knew it was something from Sesame Street—one of Oscar the Grouch’s songs. 

Lenny pushed her tongue into the side of her mouth as she slowly trailed after him to the car, fighting the urge to comment.

“Asshole,” she muttered when she couldn't hold it in any longer.

It was barely above a whisper, but Billy looked back at her with a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face as he held the passenger side door open for her. He kept whistling as she slipped into the front seat, Lenny unable to stop herself from singing along in her head.

"If you're happiest whenever you're complaining, then you're a grouch like me."

Life As We Know It (The Punisher) Masterlist

[marvelmusing]

Warnings [18+]: fem!reader, thigh grinding, fingering, threesome kinda, husband!Billy and wife!reader

A/N: just a little idea I had, not extensively proofread, for this little drabble I was picturing bodyguard!Frank and his boss CEO!Billy

-

Blinking tiredly, you wander down the corridor in search of your husband, pulling the soft fabric of your bathrobe tighter around your body.

“Billy? You coming to bed yet?”

His suit jacket has been abandoned somewhere, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal his forearms as he rests them on his knees, leaning forward to examine the papers strewn over the coffee table in front of him.

He shakes his head.

“Not yet, honey. Still gotta finish a few things off still.”

With a frustrated sigh, he threads a hand through his dark locks, ruffling the usually picture perfect style.

“Can I stay with you?” you ask.

He doesn’t respond verbally. He simply nods and scoops up a pile of papers to clear the spot beside him on the couch. Instantly you move over to him, straddling his thigh instead of occupying the spot by his side.

“Hi Frank,” you mumble against your husband’s shoulder.

The bodyguard gives you a slow nod of acknowledgment from where he’s standing at the side of the room.

“Mrs Russo, ma’am.”

The bathrobe you’re wearing protects most of your modesty, as the hem of your silk camisole slides up your thighs. Going without panties means there’s a wonderful prickle of friction as you drag yourself over your husband’s thigh.

When he hears you sigh, Billy places his hand on the small of your back, his warm palm providing a gentle pressure to encourage you.

He presses a kiss to your neck and you shiver.

“Sorry for keeping you up, baby.”

“It’s okay. I know what I signed up for, and I’m proud of you.”

The feeling of Billy smiling against your neck sends a thrum of warmth into your chest. He presses a more lingering kiss to your pulse point. His lips work softly whilst the scrape of his facial hair has you inhaling sharply.

He grins as your breathing becomes heavy and you realise you’ve been grinding yourself down over his thigh, a heady buzz of pleasure overtaking your body with each roll of your hips.

There’s a small ding from Billy’s laptop and his grin fades as he reads over the words. Absentmindedly, his hand trails over your breast, squeezing lightly as he continues to read.

Tilting your head aside, you watch your husband as his dark eyes scour over the screen, a muscle in his jaw flexing. His expression darkens as he slips his hand between your thighs.

When he slides a finger into your wet pussy, you gasp and the corner of his mouth lifts as he circles his thumb casually over your clit. A small moan catches in your throat as he curls his finger inside you.

Occasionally, when he becomes too absorbed by whatever he’s reading, his motions slow to a maddening pace. With your fingers grasping at the thick fabric of his expensive shirt, practically drooling over the fabric as you lean heavily against him, you know Billy is aware of the state you’re in.

Rocking your hips forward, you attempt to get his finger deeper inside you, to nudge against the spot that has you clenching tightly around his digit. Panting frantically against his ear, you become more and more desperate with each passing moment.

Whimpering, your body is clawing at every scrap of pleasure that tingles over your clit and thrums up your spine. A hazy cloud of need fogs over your mind as you chase your pleasure.

Then Billy pulls his finger out and a near sob heaves at your shoulders as you cling to him.

“Frankie. C’mere,” he says.

His hands settle on your waist, giving your hips a squeeze before he trails his hands over your bare thighs. He nods to the space beside you on the couch and you feel the furniture shift as Frank sits down.

“Take care of my wife, would you? I gotta close this deal.”

Billy presses a kiss to your cheek before you’re being passed over to Frank, settling yourself down onto one of his firm thighs. His hands are wider than Billy’s, his fingers thicker as he reaches for your clit.

As soon as he circles the pad of his finger over your sensitive bud, you buck your hips forward with a force that surprises you.

Frank smiles down at you.

“There we go, atta girl. He got you close, didn’t he?”

Nodding mindlessly, you accept Frank’s firm touches as your husband stands with his phone to his ear. Billy threads a hand through your hair as the dial tone rings, then he pulls your head back, tilting your face up for him to kiss you hungrily.

When he pulls away you’re breathless, toes curling with pleasure as Frank mouths over your bare neck. Glancing up at Billy drives the remaining air from your lungs.

His cheeks are flushed prettily and his lips are cherry red as he uses the finger that had been inside you to wipe away the gloss of your saliva from his lower lip.

He keeps his eyes fixed on yours as Frank lowers the straps of your camisole and begins to suck on your nipples. Whoever he’s calling appears to answer at this moment, as he says into the phone,

“Billy Russo.”

Eyes fluttering closed, you breathe out a soft moan, freezing when a finger is pressed against your lips. As you open your mouth, Billy slides his finger over your tongue and you begin to suck on the digit with a satisfied hum.

Billy grins wickedly down at you as he continues his conversation over the phone. His tone is firm and you clench hard around Frank’s finger whenever your husband’s frustration leaks into his voice.

Frank’s teeth scrape over your sensitive nipples and you writhe at the onslaught of sensation. Being filled from both ends has you dripping over Frank’s thigh, making a mess of his trousers. The slick sound of your arousal against his finger has a burning blush flooding over your skin.

Billy watches you with darkened eyes as you trace your tongue down the length of his finger. When you close your eyes to avoid his gaze, he removes his finger and grasps tightly onto your face, squeezing your cheeks together to force you to hold his gaze.

All the while, Billy talks sternly to whoever is on the other side of his call. Every time his tone shifts into something curt and commanding you clench around Frank’s thick finger and whimper at the rush of pleasure it gives you.

Tears prickle in your eyes as heavy gasps heave at your chest. Frank presses down harder on your clit and a moan catches in your throat. Billy tightens his hold on your face and a burning rush of humiliation warms your cheeks as he raises a brow in warning.

Eyes fluttering closed, you clench tightly around Frank’s finger, griping fiercely onto the front of his shirt as you near your climax.

“Billy,” you whisper in a near broken plea for permission, curling one of your hands around his wrist for support.

He nods and you fall apart.

[celestialspecial]

I Still Do

Thank you for 700 followers!!!! You guys rock- thank you for making me realize how much I love writing and being so loving and supportive of my work.

*places a kiss on each of your foreheads*

18+/Sexy timesss

The book lay heavily in your hands. Thick cardstock and glossy full color pages bursting to life with each page turned.

You’d sprung for the fancy package, because why not? A matte black hard cover with gold embossing delicately scribbled across the front in some fancy schmancy font that one would usually associate with wedding invitations.

Those days had passed and they’d been fun enough. The planning, the excitement but while your friends had ooed and awwed over floral arrangements and cake choices you instead looked forward to other things.

A future with the man of your dreams. While you did find yourself giggling and joking with them about the trials and tribulations of marriage, it felt different. It felt right. 

A lightness and a rightness in saying ‘yes’ to him.

That had been years ago and while, yes, there were some rough days. Some highs and lows. It still felt easy. Even those winding roads and unexpected things felt easy to navigate by his side.

Lately work had been consuming Billy’s every waking moment. Days chock full of meeting after meeting. Paperwork, spreadsheets, traveling, the whole gamut.

Even now as you peered around the corner into your bedroom he sat on the edge of the bed, laptop opened and furious typing filled the room.

His eyes roamed over the screen and a small wrinkle formed between his brows as he scowled at what was before him. You stood there peeking in on him, the book now behind your back, as you watched him.

His eyes never left the screen as he continued typing but his voice rang out, startling you a bit.

“Are you gonna stand there and hide or are you gonna come and save me from writing out another god forsaken email?” 

You couldn’t help the chuckle that rushed past your lips.

“I’m out of view! How the heck did you see me?” His eyes still remained on the laptop but you noticed the way the corner of his mouth quirked up.

“I can hear you.”

“I was being quiet.”

“Quiet as a bulldozer.” You made a huff in faux anger as you walked over to the edge where he sat.

“That’s what I get for marrying a marine I guess.” 

At that Billy’s eyes did leave the email he was angrily pounding out to look up at you. Hand reaching out and softly running the back along your jaw.

The sensation tickled and sparked something in the pit of your stomach. His dark eyes darted to the side then back to you.

“What’s behind your back.”

“Put away the laptop and I might show you.” 

You’d never seen a work device shut and tossed aside so quickly. He grinned up at you, patting the bed next to him, smoothing a few wrinkles out of the duvet cover.

Coaxing yourself onto the mattress and pulling one leg to cross the other you quickly pulled the book around, holding it tight to your chest. Only the blank back cover showing.

He raised a brow, curiously inspecting the mysterious item. Waiting for you to proceed.

“I hate to the be the person on the receiving end of what sounded like a scathing email you were typing out.”

“Some people don’t understand gentle nudges.”

“You’ve been working really hard recently.” At that his interest in the book cooled as he looked briefly away, running his fingers through the dark locks on his head.

His hair had grown out longer, and his usual scruff was slowly morphing into a full beard. He’d barely had any time to eat let alone go to the barber.

It was unlike him. You joked that he was vain, but was there really anything wrong with wanting to keep up one’s appearance? Especially when one was the CEO of a booming corporation.

“I have, but I promise I’m going to start delegating more. It’s just these new recruits are all green and I can’t afford to have any mistakes. And I-“ he paused taking in your sympathetic face.

“And I don’t want to talk about. I’m here with you right now.” The grin returned to his face as a finger reached out and he tapped against the back of the book. “And I want to know what this is.”

Your grin turned feline, allowing the top of the book to drop down so he could grasp one end.

Billy’s eyes ran over the front cover, zipping back and forth before darting up to yours. His lips had parted ever so slightly and you could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“Is this…what I think it is?” 

“Well if you already know I guess you don’t have to look at it then.” You moved to take the book back but his grip held firm, tightening against the spine.

He pulled it another inch closer to him.

“You’re gonna be in big trouble if you don’t let me look.”

“Why do I feel like I’m already in big trouble?” 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you could see his resolve starting to melt away. A hungry look began to grow in his eyes, fixated on the cover.

It was too good and part of you wanted to drag it out longer but your poor husband. He was practically aching to look, so you let your hand drop and he immediately pulled the book into his lap and flipped open to the first page.

Then the second. The third. The fourth. With each page turning you could watch the lust seem to grow brighter and brighter in his eyes. 

His breathing turned shallow and the tips of his ears had begun to turn the slightest shade of pink. After a long drawn out moment he spoke,

“When did you have this done?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” His hand shot out and grabbed ahold of your wrist. Tight and unyielding, until his thumb began to brush over your own heated skin.

“I think…you’d better tell me.” 

He flipped to another page, then another. 

“This one….this…God-“ he cut off, fingers drifting over the paper before him, twitching as they held the page between his thumb and forefinger. 

Of course he’d focused in on that one. Not that you weren’t watching him now slowly losing it as he took in photo after photo of you.

A girlfriend had mentioned getting boudoir photos done before her wedding and there sparked an idea in your head.

Sure you two weren’t newly married, the honeymoon phase gone years ago. And yet the flame burned just as bright between the two of you. 

There wasn’t a freckle, divet, or curve on you he hadn’t seen. Not a crease or mole he couldn’t place and yet as he devoured the photos from your own boudoir shoot it was as if it was all brand new.

The traditional lingerie shots had been fun, Lacey numbers that had way too many straps but looked gorgeous on camera.

A few of you surrounded by books, a white button up haphazardly falling off your shoulder as you held a book in your hands, a steamy romance novel. Eyeglasses dangling from your mouth.

The one he stopped on had been you, on your bed, Billy’s suit jacket draped over your shoulders. Covering enough, a satin thong sat on your thighs and you had one of his work ties pulled between your legs.

Your face, one of ecstasy, and you remember taking the shot and half telling the photographer not to leave it in. It had felt so raw and your cheeks turned pink when you’d seen it on their camera.

You remembered the thoughts you’d had to conjure up to make that face. Billy’s face pressed between your thighs, his moans drowning out your cries. 

Billy beside you now, seemed to be humming with energy. He wasn’t physically shaking but you could see him nearly hanging on as his eyes scanned over each and every page.

After he’d consumed the entire book, and gone back about three times, he landed again on the tie picture. 

Before you could ask if he liked it, a thought that felt silly and yet you’d never given a gift like this before. He was up and at the dresser, rifling through one of the drawers until he came away with a dark navy tie in hand.

“Was this it?” He asked, holding the swath of fabric. How he’d examined the image with the accuracy and precision only a marine could, of course he knew exactly which tie you’d used. 

Your mouth barely open as you nodded. Not a split second and he was before you, knees bumping against yours as he held the item of clothing out, draping it around your neck and leaning in.

Fingers grasped your chin holding it in place as he lowered his eyes to meet yours.

“Recreate it.”

“W-what?” You couldn’t help the stammer that had escaped you.

“This picture. I want to see what it looked like, in real life.” You laughed at that.

“Billy-“ but you could tell from the way he was looking at you, a hunger so divine and untainted that you felt a shiver slither its way up your back. Heat pooling between your legs as his grip tightened ever so slightly on your chin.

Realizing you were the instigator of this situation your hands pulled the loose t shirt you were wearing off, tossing it to the side. Followed by your pajama shorts and socks.

You turned away from him to unclasp your bralette, “I’m gonna need your suit-“ but as you looked back around he was standing there holding one of his dark suit jackets out to you.

One hand over your chest and sticking your tongue out at him before pulling it over your shoulders. Glancing at the lining you realized this was the very same jacket from the photo.

“How did you..”

“It’s one of my custom tailored pieces.” You were still facing away from him but you felt his hot breath by your ear as his hand slid down the back of the fine material, giving your rear a squeeze in the process.

You squeaked at that before realizing. The underwear. You didn’t have them anymore. The dryer decided to eat them, tearing the satin fabric and creating quiet a mess to clean from the filter for you.

“I don’t have the thong anymore.”

His hands roamed over your back and along your waist, kneading at your sides as he let his head rest in the crook of your shoulder. 

“That’s ok, do it without them.” You felt the heat bristling under your skin. Pinpricks of pleasure running just under the surface. You wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Instead you pushed away from him, letting his jacket cover your butt as you squatted down enough to get your much less sexy underwear off. 

In your last attempt at a playful jest you tossed them over your shoulder at Billy who caught them effortlessly. A shit eating grin plastered across his face.

Letting one of the leg holes swing around his index finger playfully.

“Encore!” You shook your head at that before resuming your place on the bed as you had been on the photo shoot. 

You could feel his gaze resting heavily on you. Every part of you.

Removing the tie from around your neck, wrapping slightly around your knuckles once then on the other hand letting the silky fabric come to rest between your legs.

The cool touch of the fabric grazing against the sensitive spot between your legs made you shudder softly.

“How’s this?” You asked, begging for the silence to be broken as you watched Billy, his whole attention focused on you. 

“And make the face.” He said. A little to casually for your liking. Because of course, he wanted to see the whole scene played out.

You tried imagining the scenario again but being out on the spot, it felt so inorganic, so forced. He could tell.

“What if I helped you out?” The saliva in your mouth had fully dried up at this point. Help? “Close your eyes.”

You couldn’t stifle the halfhearted giggle you made as you said his name.

“Close.” 

You did as he said. Eyelids drifting shut, licking your lips in anticipation. Not quite sure what his intention was.

You felt the warmth of his hand closing over your ankle, rubbing soft circles on your skin.

“Do you remember when we went to the beach up in Michigan?” 

You nodded, licking your lips nervously.

“The way the breeze was..warm and inviting. And we had a cabin with our own private beach?” His hand moved up your leg to rest on the inside of your knee that was planted on the mattress.

“And when we got tired there was a patio with a hot tub overlooking the water as the sun set.” You could feel where this was going.

“And I seem to recall a few days where we didn’t even leave the bed.” He ran a finger up and down your thigh, depthless eyes looking up at you. Oh he was wicked.

“The way the sheets would get all tangled up and I could smell the fresh air in your hair. Feel the heat on your skin where the sun kissed you a little too much. How your lips tasted-“

The need swirling around in your stomach and that desperate desire to feel him inside you started to fire within every nerve. 

“How did my lips taste, Billy?”

“Which ones?” His hand didn’t rise higher to where you needed him, but you were dying for contact, friction, anything.

Two could play at this game. Pulling the tie up tighter between your legs, not even feeling guilty for the gasp that left your lips at the soft drag of it against your body.

Billy’s eyes watched with rapt attention. You could feel the tell tale signs of pleasure building with each glide of his tie, certain you’d need to toss the thing aside before you soaked through it.

“And when we did finally leave the bed it was only so I could bury myself so deep into you on the beach that not even the waves and wind could drown out your screams.” 

Your mouth opened in a silent moan, begging for release.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” You didn’t need him to say it outright to know your face matched the picture. The same feelings coursing through you now were the ones you’d envisioned when taking the shot.

“Why don’t you make a mess on my tie, sweetheart?” The words had you grinding  onto the fabric, but that wasn’t what you wanted. 

It took more willpower than you’d care to admit to toss the tie aside, grabbing Billy by the shoulders and pulling him onto you as you both dropped onto the duvet and pillows.

Your mouths collide in a kiss only described as feral. Desperate to touch and taste each and every part of each others mouth. His tongue sliding against your own and you hear him groan loudly.

His hands brushing your hair away from your face, pieces caught up in the crossfire of your kiss. His palms coaxing the jacket open and running along your breasts.

Chest heaving you arch up into him to show your displeasure at his continued teasing. You can feel the hardness pressing into your thigh and you line up to grind against him fully.

The hiss he makes thrills you and is only amplified when you feel him grab a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back to expose your neck to him.

He licks a line up the column of your neck before pressing a scalding kiss to your jaw before working his way back down. 

“Torturing me with those photos.” He murmured as his lips continued to lavish along your collar bones then along the swell of your breasts.

His body settling into the cradle of your thighs and you pushed up again dying to feel his cock, hot and pulsing against you. 

“Someone is eager.” He huffed out, a smile playing across his face as his mouth continued its devilish work sucking on one of your nipples. The other under the palm of his hand. 

“Billy, I swear to god…please.” A weak plea answered with a roll of his hips against you and you felt dizzy with desire.

Your mind felt fuzzy and in that haziness you managed to free one of your arms, letting it drift between your bodies. Pressing firmly to where his pants had become unbearably tight.

The sound he made as you stroked the front of his pants sent electricity shooting up your spine. All these clothes needed off. Now. 

Any other day Billy would be even more tortuous, drawing out your pleasure but tonight after viewing that picture book he seemed in just as much a rush as you.

Fumbling over remaining clothing, ripping open buttons, unzipping and sliding out of his suit jacket eventually he was just as bare as you.

Capturing your lips in another toe curling kiss. His scent filling your nostrils and your own hands tangled up in his hair and the sheets. 

“Please please-“ you could feel him pressed against your thigh, the silky hardness so close to where you needed him.

You feel his hand caress the side of your face once more, turning your face so your eyes meet his fully. His expression is enough to undo you. Passion mixed with awe, tenderness and thrill.

And people say married life is boring.

No words need exchanged as you feel him slide home, stretching you slowly. You swear you can feel each ridge and vein on him. Forcing air into your lungs as you feel him fill you up completely.

“How’s my girl?” He asked placing a gently kiss on your temple. His body hovering just above yours.

“Good.” You say rather breathless. Mind unable to focus on anything beyond him within you. How his body seemed to melt into yours perfectly.

His hips slotted against yours and then a gentle rocking. Your eyes squeezed shut, relishing the push and pull, hips rising up to meet each arc and rock.

It’s delicious, but not enough. Faster, deeper. Your ankles cross behind his lower back, pulling him even closer to you as he grinds into you. 

Billy grunts as he begins to pick up the pace. Your body feels heated, his hot breath next to your ear, then a few open mouthed kisses to your pulse point on your neck.

Filling you up deeper and deeper. Your moans match alongside the noises he’s making. You can tell he’s close the louder he gets.

Your mouths move against one another, desperate longing. He rocks faster and faster. Claiming your mouth and body all at once.

Your orgasm snuck up on you, slowly swirling through your entire essence then you lost it all at once. 

Sweating, breathless, holding onto Billy for dear life as you said his name over and over. His hips continued their relentless sway carrying you through your bliss.

Then it was his turn to join you. Pushing off from the bed, holding you tight against his chest as he emptied himself into you. A loud groan followed by expletives and final few thrusts.

Both of you toppling off to the side, panting heavily. You moved to wipe a few pieces of sweat soaked hair from his forehead, then placing a kiss to the now clear spot.

You found yourself mesmerized by his dark lashes, watching them flutter as he took in a full breath. Cheeks no longer ruddy and red but fading to a softer pink.

The two of you laid there in silence, coming down from the post climax high. Basking in the afterglow, the only sound your breathing coming back to center.

After a moment Billy turned to you, his fingers brushing up the length of your arm.

“Thank you.”

“I’d say I got a little something out of it too.” You chuckled, running the back of your buckles over his cheek. He laughed in response.

“I meant for the book, but yes also this.” You snuggled closer to him, just enjoying being in his arms. Yes, married life was bliss.

The next morning you rolled over still groggy from sleep, a satisfied ache between your legs. Billy’s side of the bed was empty but you could hear him moving about getting ready for work.

Sounds of the coffee pot being turned on and that delicious aroma wafted in from the kitchen. A moment later you saw him standing in the doorway, anvil mug in hand as he took a sip of the fresh brew.

“I’m heading out. Coffees on. I promise not to be too late tonight” he grinned as you sleepily nodded, bed head and all. He lowered the mug and with a wave turned on his heel, the front door closing behind him.

[pedrito-friskito]

harlequin - frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you read a very good book, and frank gives you a reminder

warnings: uhm. voyeurism if you squint, p-in-v sex, frank’s dirty fucking mouth, idk man this just fuckin HAPPENED

a/n: @saintmurd0ck and I had a conversation about frank watching you read porn books and then this happened and it had to be hell’s angel so HERE WE ARE

| main masterlist | series masterlist | ao3 |

You’ve had your nose in the book for the past two hours.

Frank’s noticed — of course he has, it’s hard not to — and at first, he found it endearing, how engrossed you were in the novel, the sound of a flipped page reaching his ears every minute or so. You had both knees drawn up to your chest, the book pressed into your thighs, one hand holding the covers flat against your legs while you had the fingers of the other at your mouth, chewing the pad of your thumb, only releasing it long enough to turn your page before slipping it back between your teeth.

“Good book, angel?”

“Uh-huh.”

That was the most response he’d gotten out of you since you’d picked up the thing. Since you’d cracked open the cover, you’d barely said a word, not commenting when he changed the radio station or stopped for coffee. You’d barely nodded when he pressed your drink into your hand, manoeuvring a bit to keep the book open while you sipped and ate one of the donuts he bought.

But now, Frank notices something different.

The coffee and donut are long gone, and you’re still immersed in the book. But now, one leg is lowered, knee bouncing, and as Frank glances over, your other leg joins it, thighs tensing as you press them together. You have the book balanced in one hand now, thumb pressed down to keep the pages open, and he watches as your other hand skims the top of your thigh, the heel of your hand dragging along your leggings before your nails dig in.

Your lip gets caught between your teeth, and it’s only then that Frank notices the cover of the book.

Harlequin Romance.

Frank’s not a fool, and the photo on the cover gives him all the details he needs to figure out just what you’re reading. “Didn’t know you read those kinds of books,” he comments, but you barely seem to register the words, head nodding slightly, but your eyes are still glued to the page.

He waits for a few minutes, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. The hand on your thigh is now pressed between your legs. “Wanna tell me what’s happening on that page?”

You don’t say a word, but shake your head a definite no, chewing your bottom lip so hard Frank’s worried you’re gonna draw blood. He chuckles, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel.

It’s a few more miles before he hears the rustling of fabric.

He should have known, should have sensed it, could feel the heat rolling off of you and filling the truck cab. Frank chances another glance in your direction, and his throat goes dry as a desert.

Your leggings around around your ankles, the book dangling from one hand, and the other is shoved down the front of your underwear. He sucks in a breath, nearly swerving off the road when his eyes get stuck on your moving knuckles beneath the fabric. Your head tilts back against the headrest a moment later, chest heaving.

He’s grateful as all hell the road you’re on is basically deserted, that you’re not pulling this shit on a busy highway in the middle of rush hour. “You fuckin’ serious right now?” he asks, hands tensing on the steering wheel. “Book that dirty?”

“Dirty, yes,” you gasp out, the book clattering to the floor of the truck as your hand flies out and lands on his thigh, nails digging into his muscle. He’s half hard already, cock straining against his zipper at the mere sight of you all hot and bothered, and he already knows where this is going. “Not nearly as good as you though, baby.”

“That right?”

“Uh-huh,” you say, your tone higher, voice going all breathy and strung out, just like he likes it.

The next turn that comes up he takes, rolls the truck to a stop along the side of the road. There’s no houses around, nothing but trees and asphalt for miles in all directions, and your head whips to the side as Frank cuts the engine, throwing off his seatbelt and slipping out of the truck. He can feel your heavy gaze tracking him, watching through the windshield as he loops around the truck, heading for the passenger side. He’s undoing his belt as he goes, fumbles for his zipper before reaching for the door handle.

“Frank?” you ask, all innocent now, but your leggings are a puddle on the truck floor, your panties hanging around your ankle, and Frank snatches your foot, ripping the scrap of lace away and shoving it into his back pocket. “What are you doing?”

He grabs your thigh, pulling your legs around the side so they’re hanging off the edge, knocking your knees wide so he can stand between them. You gasp when he curls both hands around your thighs, pulling you to the very edge of the seat and lifting your knees so they hook over his hips.

“Showing you just how good I am, princess.” He leans forward, groaning at the sight of your bare pussy and dragging his tongue through your folds, sucking at your clit for a fraction of a second before he’s pulling back, freeing his cock from his boxers and dragging his tip through your wetness.

You’re fucking soaked, and he can’t help himself, only teasing his length along you once before he’s sinking into your heat. His hands move to your hips, wrapping around and pulling you down on his cock.

“You like those books, huh, angel?” he asks, setting a fast pace, unable to help himself from plowing into you, stifling a groan as you tighten around him. “Does that turn you on? Reading those dirty books?”

Wordlessly, you nod, an incoherent moan passing your lips. You slide both hands up your shirt, groping for your chest, and Frank just watches, rapt.

“Yeah, play with those pretty tits, princess. Nobody fucks you like I can. S’pussy was made for me.”

He can already feel your muscles going taut, back arching off the bench seat as he thrusts harder into you. His gaze alternates between your blissed-out face and your pussy, mesmerized by the way his cock disappears inside you, the skin of your thighs glistening with your slick.

“Frank.”

“Yeah?” he grunts, one hand resting on your stomach, splaying across your skin. “So fuckin’ good, huh, baby? You gonna cum for me?”

You nod again, and Frank just watches as your face screws up in pleasure, spine bending until your chest is flush with his, your arms wrapping around his neck as you ride out the wave. He wants to eat the noises that fall out of you, and he knows he’s not gonna last.

Before he can even tell you he’s gonna cum, you’re shoving at his shoulder, making him stumble back a step, cock slipping out of you as he grabs hold of the truck door. Frank barely even knows what’s happening, feels like he’s watching a movie as you scramble down from the truck and sink down, leggings thrown onto the dirt as a cushion. You curl one hand around his hip, the other around the base of his cock, and swallow him down.

“Fuckin’ shit,” Frank grits, gripping the top of the truck cab, palm slamming into the metal so hard the noise echoes through the forest, but he doesn’t care. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, angel.”

You look up at him from where you’re knelt, nails digging into the meat of his ass, and as your gazes meet, he’s a goner. The coil snaps and he spills into your mouth, hips stuttering against your face. You take every twitch, unmoving from your spot, eyes glued to his, wide and blinking and beautiful. It’s a powerful orgasm, one he can feel from the top of his head right down to the soles of his feet, and you are unwavering, taking every drop he has to offer.

A blur of movement, and then he’s sitting in your spot in the truck, watching through half-lidded eyes as you pull your leggings back on, wiping the dirt from your ass and wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. Grinning, you lean into the truck, pressing a kiss to his lips, fingers under his chin.

“I’ll drive.”

—————

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[violentdelightsproductions]

🍂🥮 Happy Thanksgiving from Frank, Karen and Amy! 🍂🥮

"There is always, always something to be thankful for."

Happy Thanksgiving from our little strange family to yours ♥

[saintedcooper]

Francis (Frank Castle x Reader AU)

New York, 1949. You’re a waitress trying to find your place in the world and get your footing at your new job. That is, when you’re not being very distracted by the handsome, mysterious writer who frequents the diner.

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

Content: Some language

Length: 2,761 words

Notes: Age is not explicitly stated but reader is grown, she’s in her mid-30s. She’s something of an anomaly at the time, being unmarried.

Additional notes at the end.

------------

Chapter 1: Beginnings

“You like the quiet?”

It’s a foggy New York afternoon and Maurice, the diner owner is busy delivering plates and taking orders. His white shirt is damp and clinging to his thick form as he hurries as fast as his stocky legs will take him.

I hurry to keep up with him as he darts to a table in the corner with an arm full of plates.

I definitely overdressed for the interview. I’m wearing a long burgundy coat dress, white tights, and a pair of pumps borrowed from my new roommate. The air in the joint is thick and sticky. I swear my curls are falling by the minute.

“Can’t remember. I’m the eldest of six kids. I haven’t known quiet since my oldest brother came home from the hospital.”

Maurice finishes putting the plates on the table and throws down extra napkins.

He dramatically bows at the table and pulls at an imaginary bow tie.

“Bone appy-tite,” he says before turning on his heels and rushing back behind the counter.

“Great, kid. I need you on the sad shift.”

Maurice makes his way to the coffee pot and groans, it’s nearly empty. He looks around, seeming to miss something.

I spot an extra coffee pot behind the counter and shrug. I’ve clearly already got the job. I pull my gloves off and brush past the still-searching Maurice.

“Sorry, the what?”

I set about making a fresh pot of mud. Maurice looks impressed.

“The sad shift, you know. Drifters, widowers, divorcees.”

He makes a dismissive gesture, “Weird writers. People that ain’t got nowhere to go even after midnight. You’d work the 8-5. Kitchen closes at 2ish. You’re basically just fillin’ coffee cups for the last part.

“They won’t give you no trouble and the tips are great. Real easy goin’ bunch, it’s just the girl who was on that shift got herself in the family way and well, here we are.”

The coffee’s finished brewing and I take the pot to start refilling cups.

“Sounds good,” I tell Maurice over my shoulder.

“Great! You start tonight. Go home and get some sleep.”

-------------------

It didn’t take long to realize Maurice was right: the late shift is quiet.

I started that night I got the job and got the hang of it pretty quickly. It wasn’t long before I knew everyone who’d come through on a typical night.

Over the past few months, we’ve settled into a nice rhythm.

It’s intimate being with people in the hours between night and day. They open up to me, they tell me about their struggles, and I get to listen.

Tonight, the patrons are spaced out between the bar and corner booths, like normal. Each of them smoking so much that there’s a persistent thick cloud above the joint. I sometimes felt like the only person in the world who won’t touch the stuff, but working here now I’m not sure it matters anyway.

I’m standing behind the counter, hip cocked and head resting in my head, looking out at the city.

The diner’s filled with the usual suspects. All except one.

I spin my watch around to look at the time.

He’s usually not this late.

I know, I shouldn’t have favorite customers. They’re all great, they tip well, and they’re nice.

But there’s this one guy, a writer. I noticed him early on.

Name’s Francis.

He comes in damn near every night and is impossible to miss. He’s gorgeous, well-dressed, and polite. And he always smells like a pine forest after it rains.

He’s nice to look at and good to talk to but we’ve always left it there. He mostly stayed to himself during my first few weeks here.

Then, on my way to work one day, I walked out of the train station and into a freak storm. It started hailing out of nowhere, loud and cold and I was absolutely not dressed for it. I threw my bag over my head and started running the last blocks to the diner.

But my pump caught a big piece of hail just wrong and I rolled my ankle.

Next thing I know, I hear this familiar deep voice behind me say, “You alright, sweetheart?”

I turned to find Francis holding his hand out to me. I took it and winced as I tried to get up to my feet.

It hurt, I leaned to one side as I stood there.

“Ah, think I tweaked it.”

I bent to rub a hand over my ankle and found it slightly swollen.

“You headin’ to work?”

I nodded. “Yeah. But walkin’ there’ll make it worse and so will walkin’ home and—”

Francis hefted me over his shoulder like it was nothing and my whole body heated up. I covered my face with my bag.

“Oh, goodness! Francis, really. I can walk. Slowly, but I can do it.”

"Nah, sweetheart. Can’t have you makin’ it worse. It’s no trouble.”

No trouble for him, maybe, but terrible for my attempts to stave off a full-blown fascination with the guy.

He carried me four blocks to the diner.

I was so mortified I started asking him questions to distract myself from the embarrassment.

I learned that he was a writer. He wrote a lot of pulp but he was working on a novel, had been for three years. He mentioned his wife using her job as a secretary for a construction company to bring him story ideas.

“She was no damn good at it,” he said with a laugh. “She said one day, ‘Vinnie threatened to break a guy’s knees today and it made me wonder if you could write something about how knees can feel fear.’ Just completely missing the point every time.”

I laughed along with him.

“Was? You two break up?”

Francis didn’t respond for nearly a block.

When we reached the diner he said, “’s complicated, sweetheart. Let’s get some ice on that ankle.”

That was months ago and since then we’ve pretty much settled into our routine. I only think about him throwing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes once, maybe twice an hour.

Everything’s normal.

Tonight I managed to get the cook, Tom, to keep the kitchen open a bit longer for Francis but his patience is wearing thin.

There’s steam coming through the serving window as Tom pours boiling water over the utensils, preparing to close the kitchen for the night.

“Sorry, toots,” he says with a grin. “Your boyfriend ain’t comin’ tonight and I’ve got shit to do.”

He shrugs and turns away.

I pick at the varnish on my nails and give a dramatic roll of my eyes. “He ain’t my boyfriend, Tommy, and you know it. He’s just a nice payin’ customer who gives great tips. You know I’ve gotta go see my sister soon ‘fore she pops that kid out.”

Tom's throaty laugh rings through the diner and he appears in front of the serving window again.

“Hey, baby, no disrespect to her but I’d say the 5th time you shove one out we can stop with the fanfare, eh? I mean, sheesh, they startin’ a football team?”

I bite the inside of my cheek and stifle a giggle. She’s across the country but I swear to god, I laugh and she’ll know it.

“Be nice, she’s my sister.”

“Yeah well, you’re the one who got all the sense. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

Tom throws his hands up, an empty, steaming pot dangling from one of them, and goes back to his cleaning.

He’s not wrong. They’ve been turning out babies like lovin’ was going out of style since he got back home from the war. One a year.

It’s what she wants and I’m happy for her. But it smarts a bit sometimes. I helped change her diapers but she beat me to everything a girl’s supposed to do. We couldn’t afford college when it was my turn but I worked my ass off to make sure she got to go to Bryn Mawr.

Then, just a few months after classes start, she goes on a day trip and catches the eye of some square-jawed, bronzed god fresh out of college. The next thing I know she’s banging on my door at 3am covered in rain shouting, “Bunny, you’ll never guess! We’re engaged! Don’t tell mama but Johnny has a lead on a job out west, we’re eloping! Don’t hate me?”

Then she kissed my cheek and dragged her damp ass out the door and into his big, stupid Packard.

They don’t refund tuition when your sister lands a god and drops out after 6 months, by the way.

Mama did always say she’s the worst little girl in all the world and—

The thudding clank of the bell on the door stops the spiral, the sharpness of it reverberating through the quiet space.

We all know who it is but every head turns to look. My breath catches in my throat.

Francis Castiglione steps through the door looking good enough to eat in his suit with a gray hat sitting low, shading his face. He nods to the familiar faces around the diner.

I stand up and smooth down my dress just as he catches my eye. His lips tug up into a little grin and he’s headed my way.

God, my throat feels like wool. I swallow and spin around to grab the coffee pot, a mug, and a saucer.

Francis glides into a seat at the counter.

“How you doin’ tonight, sweetheart?”

I throw a quick smile over my shoulder as I finish pouring his coffee.

“Real good, Francis. And you?”

He groans, low and deep.

The sound shocks a little gasp out of me and I pray he didn’t hear it.

“It’s uh…heh. It’s been a long night, doll.”

I grab a stirring spoon and head to the counter with his coffee. He’s taken off his hat and the harsh light he’s sitting under illuminates a face full of angry-looking scratches.

I forget all about the coffee, gasping and throwing a hand over my mouth. Coffee spills out of the over-filled up and drips down the cup and saucer, some spilling onto the floor.

“Francis! My goodness, what happened?”

Francis reaches out with swift reflexes to grab the tipping coffee from my hands. He places the saucer and mug on the counter and licks his coffee-wet fingers.

For a moment, I forget all about his scratched-up face, eyes focused on the peek of his tongue darting out to lick the coffee now running down his hands.

I’m gawking at him like a schoolgirl and of course, I’m caught. He holds my gaze while he slowly licks up the side of his hand. He smirks at the top.

“Don’t worry bout it, sweetheart. It’s no big deal.”

My cheeks flush and I nod.

“Right, sorry. I just— it’s hard to not be distracted by you.”

I make a flailing gesture with my hands.

“And then the coffee and you — how you got it up and. I lost myself, I apologize, it won’t happen again.”

Francis does his best to hide his laughter behind his hand.

What’s he laughing at?

The deep frown on my face makes him lose it. He throws his head back and howls with laughter.

“Hey! What’s so funny?”

He tilts his head back to me, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart. I meant this,” he gestures at his face. “You asked and I’m saying it was nothin’. Not talkin’ about you oglin’ me.”

Oh, good lord. My face heats up like a Looney Tunes character who just guzzled a pot of boiling water.

Francis is a gentleman, though, now doing his best to stifle his laughter and save me the embarrassment.

I hide my face behind one of the bar towels.

“Oh, Francis, I’m so embarrassed.”

He waves a hand at me.

“Ah, don’t be. I’m only teasin’. It’s nice that you were worried about me.”

He takes a sip of what’s left of his coffee, looking at me over the cup.

“’sides, it’s good to know I’m distractin’.”

My face is still warm but I’m trying to calm down. I use the towel to pick up the coffee spilled on the counter and floor.

“Well, I am concerned. What the hell happened to you?”

“Eh, just uh, wrong place, wrong time. But you should see the other guy.” He waggles his eyebrows and it gets a laugh out of me.

“Honestly, who gets into fisticuffs with a writer?”

”Sheesh, you ain’t never read much Hemingway, huh darlin’? We writers are a scrappy bunch.”

He downs the rest of his coffee.

“It’s all the insecurity.”

I walk down to the small sink behind the counter and wash out the towel.

“Well still, I don’t like it. How did it happen?”

Francis waves a hand and shrugs. “Nah, doesn’t matter much. Tell me about you. You still savin’ up to go see Jeannie?”

I scoff.

“Yeah.”

I take the rest of the coffee pot around the diner, topping up the cups as I respond.

“But now I’m wondering why. It’s her fortieth kid for christ’s sake. She could teach a seminar on not keeping your legs closed.”

One of the regulars laughs as I finish my rounds and head back behind the counter.

“It’d be more impressive if she didn’t end up pregnant every year. Meanwhile, I’m here in the greatest city in the world staying in at night and on weekends to go see another one of her fat, sloppy babies? That jerk Johnny makes a fortune and I have to buy my own ticket on a sweaty bus for four days? It’s a goddamn shame!”

I slam the spent pot into the cradle of the machine.

“God! Fuck. her!!!”

I let out a scream. The patrons all politely appear enthralled by the wood grain on their tables.

“Hey, hey,” Francis leans across the counter to turn my shoulders around. He rubs at them in a gentling gesture. “Hey, it’s all good, whatever you want. You ain’t gotta explain nothin’ to no one, least of all any of us.”

I glance around at the nodding heads in the diner.

“You do what makes you happy.”

Francis rubs his hands down my arms, I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

“I don’t want to see her. She makes me feel awful.”

Francis nods, giving me big puppy dog eyes.

“Then don’t. S’your life, kid.”

He pats my shoulder and sits back down in his seat.

I slump over the counter and hide my head.

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be.”

“I work here, I’m supposed to be professional and —” my eyes widen…shit.

I pop my head into the serving window and Tom’s nowhere to be found. The counters and cooktops in the kitchen are pristine. He’s gone.

“Francis! I’m so sorry, I tried to have him wait for you but he said he had plans, and let's be honest, as long as he’s payin’ the plans would still be there even if he’s a few minutes late, and—”

“Sweetheart, sweetheart,” Francis calls for me to come back to the counter. “S’alright. Promise. Missin’ supper once is not gonna kill me. Might do wonders for this book I’m writin’, though. Really get me into the head of a starving artist, ya know? Maybe more people’ll buy it if I can make myself extra miserable in the process.”

“Oh, don’t say that.”

“I’m teasin’, darlin’. Don’t be so serious.”

I flush. There ought to be a law about how many times you can call a girl sweetheart or darling before she starts to get ideas.

He makes me feel like a girl again.

Francis fixes me with a stare. Neither of us breaks it as the seconds stretch on. He licks his lips and leans into me.

“C’mere, I wanna tell you somethin’.”

“What?”

He gestures for me. “Just c’mere.”

I lean in closer, the warmth of his breath rustling the delicate hairs of my ear.

He gets closer still and whispers, “I don’t come here for the food.”

I’m frozen and flushed while he grins his face off. He shakes his head and reaffixes his hat, pulling the brim down low again. He pats the counter and I realize he’s moving slower than normal as he heads to the door, favoring one side.

He gives me a final look across his shoulder.

“Night, sweetheart.”

The bell rings loudly through the space and then, quiet.

-----

Part 2

Let me know how you feel about this duo in the replies! Reblogs + asks welcome, too. How do you think reader will handle Frank's little declaration? Do you think she'll press him further on how he got injured?

I'd also love feedback about readability! Is it clear and easy to follow being in first person present?

If you're experienced as a beta or editor, feel free to drop me a line if you'd be interested in helping me edit future chapters.

[depressedbagpipe]

"Blackbird to Robin, do you copy?" Masterlist

Billy Russo x original female character [ongoing]

[The Punisher AU]

Plot overview: When Billy Russo, CEO of private military firm Anvil, was tasked with the security and protection of New York's most feared mafia leader and his family over an unknown yet dangerous threat, he didn't know he not only would risk his safety over the job, but his heart too.

Series warnings: female!reader, slight age gap (reader is of age), no specific physical descriptions mentioned. This fic contains canon-typical violence, mentions of death, injuries, grief, loss, anxiety, depression, college burnout, financial instability, mentions of misogyny and other unacceptable behaviors, very foul language. Reader has a first name (Dana).

A/N: so, i kinda changed this universe a little bit, where billy is the CEO of anvil and frank works there as his top agent. I'm picturing a mafia leader to be a very conservative and traditional man who pretty much doesn't think women should be in power, but i can assure that it does reflect in no way my own beliefs —this is just for the sake of the plot. Any triggering content will be specified in every chapter, but if I missed any, let me know :)

Taglist: @badasseddy, @noortsshift, @britishbassett

Prologue

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six