amhrosina

26, she/her, i write fics

[amhrosina]

Masterlist (Updated August 1 2026)

JOIN MY TAG LIST // Character List

If you want to be tagged in anything I post, please fill out the form above. It’s completely customizable to your preferences - you can be tagged in every fic I post for a specific fandom, or you can choose to be tagged in specific character/series fics. If you have a specific fic request, you can do that here. My absolute no-no’s for requests can be found here.

Marvel:

Bucky Barnes -

My Sun My Moon My Stars - part 1 part 2

They Don’t Know About Us Dirty Little Secret You Know Who You Are

Frank Castle - 

Frank Castle Masterlist

Matt Murdock - 

Matt Murdock Masterlist

Fratt -

Fratt Masterlist

Billy Russo -

Sneaky Link This Feels Like Falling in Love Your Pretty Heart

Miguel O'Hara (Spider-Man 2099) -

Love Bites It's Always Been You Fixation

Peter Parker (Tom Holland) - 

Worth the Risk

Namor (K’uk’ulkan)-

Namor (K'uk'ulkan) Masterlist

Marvel Headcanons -

Pregnancy Headcanons - part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 (end)

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Pedro Pascal Cinematic Universe

Javier Pena -

Feelings are Fatal

Joel Miller -

Desperado

[amhrosina]

Soooooo…what’d you think?

i genuinely LOVED IT!!!!

spoilers ahead for spider man bnd:

the idea of handling loss as you grow and mature is SO RELATABLE and i love that bruce and frank played as opposite sides of the same coin in isolation!!

peter physically experienced and witnessed what happens when you isolate yourself and ignore emotions/feelings, and it was GREAT!!!

also i love that frank felt so natural in the MCU, it will be interesting to see where they take his character next!

hated that so many men in the real world were disgustingly misogynistic about MJ telling peter that she didn’t love him because she didn’t know him

overall 10/10, seeing it again ASAP, wish men would fuck off asap

[amhrosina]

Two is Better Than One

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST // FRATT MASTERLIST

Pairing: Frank Castle x f!Reader x Matt Murdock

Summary: A night out with your two favorite boys ends in tears (down your thigh) when someone tries to embarrass you about your relationship with Frank and Matt.

Tags: Not edited because im lazy, porn with feelings, porn with very little plot, threesome, smutty stuff in a car, body worship, matt lets the devil out, fratt shares you, fratt teasing you and each other, frank gets called a mistress, fingering, p in v, matt talks you through it, dom!matt if you squint, masturbation (male), breeding kink a little if you squint, frank and matt both make confessions, im sure im forgetting some but basically it's all smut

“Boys,” you smiled, eyeing Matt and Frank’s tall figures as they paced around the living room, “You both look great.” 

They were both wearing tuxedos, much to Frank’s dismay. Even Matt looked a little uncomfortable, constantly tugging on the bowtie around his neck, but you figured a tuxedo was a little tighter than the suits he was used to wearing. Your knees wobbled at the sight of both of them so dressed up. Great was an understatement. 

Frank turned first, running his hand over his mouth before placing his hands on his hips. He chuckled, eyeing the dress you’d donned for the occasion. It was a favorite of his, hugging your curves perfectly. Matt loved it too because of the material the dress was made of. Both men thoroughly enjoyed when you wore it. 

“You sure you want to go to this thing?” Frank asked, flustered now that he’d seen you. 

“You don’t?” You questioned, teasing him. 

“I want to take you right back into that bedroom and peel that dress off of you,” he grumbled. 

You kissed Frank on the cheek, playfully rolling your eyes, before turning to Matt, who was trying hard to look comfortable for your sake. You pulled his hand to the fabric, swiping his palm through the skirt. He sighed, chuckling under his breath. 

“You’re torturing us, petal,” he said, clenching the fabric in his fist. “You know what this dress does to us.” 

“I know,” you conceded, unable to hide the grin on your face, “That’s why I wore it.” 

In fact, every aspect of your outfit had been meticulously picked out to drive both men absolutely insane for the entire night. You’d sprayed Matt’s favorite perfume on the spot under your jaw that he loved to nuzzle into. You’d worn a lipstick shade so sinful for Frank that he couldn’t seem to pay attention to anything but your lips every time you put it on. The dress was, coincidentally, one of the only things Frank and Matt seemed to agree on. 

“It’s supposed to be a reward,” you said, squeezing their hands, “for going with me to this gala.” 

“More like punishment,” Frank scoffed, gazing back and forth between your lips and your eyes. 

“I meant what comes afterward,” you murmured, smirking when they both clenched their jaws in response. “The car’s waiting.” 

Matt let out a bated breath, waving you toward the door. Frank rested his hand on Matt’s shoulder, watching the swing of your hips as you led the way. 

“It’s going to be a long night,” he breathed, squeezing Matt in joint-comradery. 

“Behave,” Matt gritted, shrugging Frank off of him. 

You should have known that Frank wouldn’t behave. Matt had placed himself as far away from you as he could in the car, preferring awkward small talk with the driver over torturing himself with the smell of your perfume. He was already dizzy with desire, and the last thing he wanted to do was mess up your pretty makeup before the gala. 

Frank, however, didn’t seem to have that qualm. As soon as the internal car lights dimmed in the back seat, his hand was massaging the skin peeking through the slit on your dress. It began as an innocent, soothing touch, but quickly escalated into something far more heated. The further into Manhattan that you got, the higher his fingers circled on your thigh. His warm breath skittered across your exposed shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. 

You tried to focus on the driver’s words as he explained the optimal route with Matt, but Frank’s fingers were sinfully stealing every bit of your attention. When your legs finally uncrossed, allowing him to access your wet folds, Frank greedily slid his fingers into you, slowly pumping them in and out as quietly as possible. Matt looked pained, grasping the car door handle with white knuckles. 

Frank noticed this too – probably planned for this as soon as Matt had chosen the front seat instead of the back – and whispered in your ear, “Do you think Matt’s okay up there? I bet he’s wishing he’d chosen the back seat now.” 

The driver couldn’t hear Frank, but Matt certainly could. You felt bad for Matt, but only marginally. He’d get his revenge later, and besides, you were enjoying watching him squirm as much as Frank was. You couldn’t help the soft moan that left your lips when Frank’s thumb began circling your clit. 

“Ma’am,” the driver said, keeping his eyes peeled to the traffic in front of him, “Is he okay?” 

The driver flicked his thumb over to Matt, who was hunched over with his hands clasped behind his neck. Frank had paused his motion, glancing at Matt’s crumpled figure before smirking and continuing, likely sending Matt into a frenzy. 

“He’s fine!” You managed to squeak out, trying your hardest to keep your voice even while Frank made a mess of you beneath the folds of your dress. “He’s a little worn out from work. Right, Matty?” 

A non-committal grunt came from Matt. Frank couldn’t stop the chuckle from escaping his throat as you dug your nails into his tux, trying not to yelp in the quiet car. Frank was dangling you dangerously close to the edge, sparking more and more heat in your core as his thumb continued to circle your clit. You let out a shaky breath, slightly arching into Frank’s touch.  

When the car rounded the corner and he saw the entrance to the gala, Frank pressed his thumb down hard, pumping two fingers in and out of you with new fervor, hoping to elicit at least one orgasm from you before your attention was whisked away for the evening. You bit your lip, hoping you’d be able to stay quiet when your core finally erupted. 

“C’mon, baby,” Frank breathed, “Just give me one and I’ll be able to make it through the night.” 

The pleasure so clear in his rasp is what did you in. Heat overwhelmed your senses as you came all over his hand. A cry crawled up your throat, muffled by the sound of Matt coughing loudly. 

The car abruptly stopped. Glancing out the window, you realized you had arrived at the gala. Unfortunately for all three of you, it was the last place you wanted to be. Frank was back on his side of the car, subtly wiping his hand on the handkerchief embroidered with your initials on it. He shot you a wink before stepping out of the car and hustling to Matt’s door. 

Matt clambered out of the car, taking a deep breath when he could finally stand upright. A scowl marked his face as he murmured something to Frank, too quiet for you to hear. Frank smirked, closing the door. Matt was the one who opened your door, holding his hand out for support as you stood. 

You smoothed the creases of your dress out, wiping away any signs of your indecent activities with Frank. 

“Shall we?” You murmured, taking Frank and Matt’s arms on either side of you. 

“Lead the way, petal,” Matt said, clenching his jaw when Frank chuckled again. 

“What did he say to you?” You asked, confused at Frank’s behavior. 

“I’m sure you don’t want to know,” Matt assured you, huffing a breath. “It’s your night, honey. We’re just here as eye candy.” 

Eye candy, indeed. 

As soon as you stepped through the door, you were whisked away by potential clients. Matt had given your hand three squeezes before letting you go, a reminder that they were here if you needed them. You talked for hours, jumping from conversation to conversation as the night went on. Occasionally, Frank or Matt would bring you a new drink, kissing you on the temple before exiting the conversation again. 

This is how they always were at these events. They never wanted to overshadow your moments, so instead, they’d linger behind you, never overstepping unless you asked them too. It was how they preferred it, honestly. Matt was happy to schmooze if you asked, but he liked listening to you speak about the things you had passion for. Frank was less enthused to interact with people, but he stayed nearby, always footsteps away in case you needed him. It was all rather flattering. 

Everything was going so well that you couldn’t believe you’d almost made it through a gala without any incidents when someone, inevitably, messed it up for you. You were grateful it was Matt who happened to be the one to hear it. 

“I’m a bit confused. Which one is yours?” A British lady whose name you didn’t bother remembering asked. 

“I’m sorry?” You said, polite smile on your face. 

“That man over there, who I thought was your husband brought you a drink earlier and kissed you,” she said, nodding to Frank. “Now this man appears with a drink and does the same! You have two men doting on you? Rather odd, don’t you think?” 

Matt, who had turned to leave you again, froze. His palm pressed against your lower back, a support you didn’t know you needed until right at that moment. 

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” You cleared your throat, turning with Matt to leave when she spoke up again. 

“Do they share you? Is that it? What an odd thing you youngsters are into. I could never cheat on my husband so openly like that.” 

Frank had read the uncomfortable look on your face and began inching his way across the room. Matt cleared his throat, waiting for a signal from you to step in. While according to the New York City courts you were legally married to Matt, that wasn’t something that ever affected the relationship between the three of you. Frank was, for all intents and purposes, dead according to most people. The three of you wore wedding bands, and that’s what mattered to you. Most people had enough decorum to keep their observations to themselves. 

“I’m not cheating on my husband. I love both of them and that’s what works for us,” you scoffed, unable to bite your tongue any longer. 

Frank had arrived, and with him came a wave of whispers from the crowd that had formed nearby. He donned his ‘Punisher’ face, glaring at the lady as she continued to speak. 

“Where I come from, kissing other men who are not your husband is considered cheating.”  

She clicked her tongue at you, disappointedly shaking her head. You tried to fight it, but tears welled in your eyes. Anger pulsed beneath your skin, red hot. It wasn’t a fair or accurate representation of your relationship, and the fact that she had so publicly confronted you about it made the itch to punch her in the face that much more prevalent. 

Matt was ahead of you though, and he’d already wrapped his arm around your waist and led you away from the growing crowd, nearly growling at anyone who looked in your direction. 

“Don’t let them see you cry, baby,” he said, leading you toward the closest exit. 

You blinked back tears, turning to make sure Frank was coming too. He was, as usual, a few steps behind you, glaring at anyone who dared look at him too long. It didn’t scare you, but it certainly wasn’t something the rest of the guests were used to seeing. They shied away from him as he moved through the crowd, like prey running from a predator. 

When the three of you made it outside, away from the eyes of prying guests, you finally let the tears show themselves. Both men seethed with anger as Matt gently wiped the tears away with the matching handkerchief to Frank’s. 

“She doesn’t know us,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “She doesn’t get to make you sad on your big night. Don’t let her take this away from you.” 

You sniffled, trying to blink back more tears before saying, “My makeup is ruined. I want to go home.” 

“You look beautiful, baby. Even more so when you’ve got mascara running down your cheeks.” Frank swooped in, pulling you against his chest as you laughed at his bad attempt at a joke. 

“I still want to go,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m tired of these people. I want to cuddle with my husband and mistress. At the same time.” 

Frank scoffed, laughing. “I am not a mistress!” 

Matt let out a guffaw, followed by an unbecoming snort, which dissolved you into a puddle of giggles.  

The air felt lighter as the three of you walked to the car. This time, Matt shuffled into the backseat before anyone could suggest otherwise. The driver nodded politely as you crawled in next to Matt, followed by Frank. It was a large car, but the two men you’d situated yourself between were quite broad, so you remained relatively squished for the entire car ride. Matt and Frank each had a hand placed on your knees, stroking their thumbs in soothing patterns. You nearly fell asleep on Frank’s shoulder on the way home, but perked up when the car pulled up outside of the home the three of you shared. 

Matt tipped the driver and thanked him while Frank unlocked the door, and when the door finally shut behind you, you let out a deep, exhausted breath. The world was a little cruel, and you felt so much safer within the walls of your home, especially with Frank and Matt. 

“Are you feeling better, sweetheart?” Matt asked from behind you. 

“Much better. Why?” 

You spun around to look at Matt, expecting him to be a few feet away. Instead, he had moved much closer to you, hands in his pockets; the picture of innocence. He was on you before you could ask him what he was up to. The breath whooshed out of you as he slammed his lips to yours in a hungry, heated kiss. 

Frank chuckled from somewhere nearby, clearly expecting this. Matt ran his hands down your body, squeezing the fabric of your dress where it cinched at your waist. When he pulled away, a whine sounded in your throat. 

“I’ve been waiting to do that all night,” Matt panted, pressing his fingers into your hips. “Your perfume drives me up a wall. Did you know that?”  

He interrupted before you could respond. “I know you do. You both love teasing me.” 

Frank’s laugh echoed around the room. 

“Poor baby Matty,” he said, smile clear in his voice. “Are you throwing a tantrum because I didn’t share?” 

Matt smirked, tugging you impossibly closer to him as he growled, “My turn, sweetheart.” 

Matt was unwavering in his desire for you and Frank. On the rare occasions that he let the devil out in front of you, he was relentless in his pursuit for as many orgasms as he could pull from you. He was unabashedly greedy, unwilling to give Frank exactly what he wanted, and Frank enjoyed it too because it was the only time Matt allowed you both to see his true nature. It felt like Matt’s finally revealing his truth, safe in the four walls of his home, and you reaped all the benefits of it. 

Matt was slowly torturing you by sliding in and out of your cunt at such a slow pace that you felt like crying. You panted into the sheets beneath you, arching your back even more as he ran a hand down your quivering figure. Frank propped himself up on his elbow beside you, stroking your cheek as you begged Matt to go faster. 

“Matty,” Frank chided, clicking his tongue, “Don’t you think she’s been good for us?” 

“Very good,” Matt grunted, thrusting into you before slowly gliding himself almost all the way out. He thrusted into you again, chuckling when you whined beneath him. 

“Matty, please,” you begged, clenching around him. “Please go faster. Please.” 

“She asked so nicely, Red,” Frank teased, wiping away a stray tear on your face. “Let her have what she wants.” 

“I’m sure you’d love that, Frank,” Matt snapped, but a gentle caress on your back told you he was close to breaking. 

Frank, who had begun stroking himself while he watched Matt fuck you into the mattress, grunted as Matt finally began pounding into you. You whined as Matt pulled you off your hands and against his toned abdomen. He wrapped a calloused hand around your throat, squeezing slightly as he wound you tighter and tighter. 

Matt’s hand inched up your throat, taking hold of your jaw and forcing you to watch Frank, who was shaking with desire. He stroked himself, intense gaze on you and Matt. 

“See what you do to us, petal?” Matt asked, voice raspy in your ear. “His heartrate skyrockets every time you make that sexy little noise. He’s so close to coming and he hasn’t even touched you since your little show in the car earlier.” 

Frank’s low rasp echoed directly in your core as he said, “You think it’s just her that does this to me, Red?” 

Matt paused briefly, jaw ticking, before he tightened his grasp on your jaw. 

“Want to know a secret, honey?” 

Frank’s jaw tightened as he brought himself even closer to ecstasy. You whined as Matt nuzzled his nose into your neck, inhaling your perfume deeply. His thrusts stuttered, and suddenly he was coming deep inside of you. He gasped as he filled you, and Frank watched in awe as it began dripping down your thighs. Finally, Matt revealed what had been on his mind all night. 

“I thought about killing that woman for making you cry earlier, but the thought of taking you home and fucking you silly sounded better . You-,” he panted, running his fingers up your torso until he cupped your breast, “This kept the devil inside tonight. Not God. Not Frank. You.” 

Stars flecked your vision as another orgasm took you in a sweeping heat from your core to your head. Frank grunted as he came too, coating his hand and stomach with spurts of hot cum. 

“There you go baby,” Matt murmured, kissing your cheek. “So perfect for us, honey. Look at the mess Frank made watching you come all over me, baby.” 

“Asshole,” Frank murmured, wiping himself up with a towel. 

You were far from being able to function. Your forehead was coated with sweat and your heart pounded in your chest. A light-headed haze had taken hold of your body, but Matt was a patient man. He held you against him, slowly thrusting his come into you, reminding you how perfect you were for them. Frank watched you too, in awe of the way your breasts shook with every deep breath you took. 

When you finally sagged forward, Matt laid you down gently, pressing a kiss to the top of your spine before pulling out. While Matt cleaned up the mess he’d made of you, Frank took the opportunity to lie with you, cradling and kissing your face. Matt crawled next to the two of you, placing his arm far enough that he could hold you and Frank. He let out an exhausted sigh, mirrored by you and Frank. 

“You two always get me into trouble,” Matt mumbled, reeling the Devil in with a single sentence. The rasp in his voice was gone, replaced by the practical lawyer-like tone that you adored. 

“I didn’t do anything except defend you two at the gala!” You exclaimed. 

“He was mainly talking to me,” Frank said, chuckling. “I may or may not have told him how amazing you tasted before you got out of the car earlier.” 

“Is that all you said?” You arched an eyebrow at him. 

“No,” Matt said, kissing your shoulder. “But we needn’t bring that cruel language into the sanctity of our home.” 

You giggled, closing your eyes. The warmth radiating off of both men was cozy enough to send a wave of sleepiness over your body. Before you fully slipped away, you felt Frank muss Matt’s messy hair. 

“Next time,” Frank whispered to Matt, “You get to be the mistress.” 

Tag List:

@fxlsealarm@kiwiharrykiwi@telepathay@itwasthereaminuteago@dumb-fawkin-bitch@carolinaxvz@wistericals@lucienofthelakes@zomtart@agirlwithmanyloves@myguiltypleasures21@alexxavicry@hallecarey1@km-ffluv@lilyevans1@22carolina08@aynsleywalker@queenofthenoobs@ostricx@horrorflix@charmed-asylum@xleiaorgana@blackwidownat2814

@minervadashwood@messymissy@mylifeispainandiloveit@fightmilk@spikedhe4rt@fictional-hooman@babyslyth@legocity2@quackson03@certifiedhunter@dumb-fawkin-bitch@thatgirljayy@scoliobean@evyiione@day-dreaming-goddess@ginnysculture@ryebreadsworld@laaundromat@niki-is-a-thing@kelp-dreaming@ladymercury8@joalslibrary@pascalispet@feelmyskinonyourskin@splendiferous-bitch@hellskitchenswhore@alexaplayldr

[amhrosina]

amhrosina is writing a poly!fratt x reader fic featuring the big three: smut, angst, and fratt teasing each other !!!!!

[amhrosina]

You’re going to love Frank in Brand New Day!!! I got to see it tonight and it was SO GOOD.

omg i am SO EXCITED!!!! i’m seeing it tonight!!!

[amhrosina]

You Know Who You Are

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Tags/Warnings: heavy angst, trauma, the winter soldier haunts the narrative tbh, canon violence, bucky has his kitty Alpine in this one, post-tfatws but not canon accurate beyond that, inspired by that one moana song lol, more of a character study than a fic tbh, short-ish fic

Summary:

Bucky struggles to cope with his worst nightmares bleeding into reality. When he accidentally hurts you, the looming weight of his guilt comes crashing down around him.

Bucky Barnes was a worrier at heart. He worried about the people around him. He worried about his cat, Alpine, when he was away on missions for too long. He worried about you, the only person he trusted. Most of all, he worried about himself. Deep down, he feared that he wasn’t himself anymore. Even after all that time, after all that therapy and healing, he still haunted Bucky. 

The Winter Soldier. Assassin. Murderer. Unworthy of kindness or empathy. Cold blooded killer. Beyond saving. 

This feeling, while not new to him, overwhelmed him some nights, tugging his attention away from the world around him. He spent hours staring at the clock, wondering if he could force that version of himself away long enough to eat something or get off the fucking floor, but he never found the strength. Maybe, he considered, the strength had gone when he fell off that train in 1944. Maybe all of this – the Avengers, the Thunderbolts, working with Sam – had been a lie. Yes, that sounded correct. 

Bucky Barnes was a liar. He lied to the people around him. He lied to you. He lied to himself. Bucky Barnes died in 1944. His ghost was the only thing left of him.  

He thought about all of those things as he stared at the ceiling of his dim apartment. He couldn’t remember how long he’d been laying there. His fingers twitched, unable to find the cellphone he barely remembered to charge in the mess of sheets on his living room floor. Things like time and human connection seemed less important now that the universe wasn’t being threatened. 

He was tired, but sleep evaded him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to sleep anyways. He’d slept enough, frozen in time for decades. It didn’t matter – every time he closed his eyes, his brain was punished by him.  

The crack of a neck snapping, blood gurgling out of a throat that he cut, bones crunching beneath his fists. Images of all those innocent people being brutally murdered haunted Bucky. He remembered every single kill, felt their pulses on is fingertips when he woke, and it unsettled him beyond belief. 

And then there was you. His only solace, besides Alpine. Beautiful, kind, generous. The last thing Bucky deserved, and yet, you hadn’t left yet. No – he wouldn’t think of you when he was spiraling this hard. You were the one thing that didn’t belong to him. Bucky knew what would happen if he found out you existed, and he refused to let that happen. 

The weight of a small paw on Bucky’s abdomen startled him out of his stupor. He blinked, eyes burning from disuse. How long had he been staring off into space, unblinking and completely lost in his own thoughts? 

Alpine curled up on his chest, resting her little head against Bucky’s chin. His gaze darted to her food bowl in the kitchen, worried he may have been so far gone that he’d forgotten to feed her, but the bowl was half-full. At least he was capable of taking care of one living being, even if it wasn’t himself. 

“Hey, little girl,” he murmured softly, stroking her fur with his knuckle. “Sorry I’ve been so down lately.” 

Alpine didn’t acknowledge him, already snoring quietly. He watched her for a few moments, wondering if she forgave him for being so broken sometimes. Like every good thing in his life, Alpine was gifted to Bucky by you. He wasn’t sure how you managed to find her, but when you showed up on his doorstep with a little white furball in your arms, he was immediately smitten. 

While Alpine slept, Bucky considered what to do next, which was always a sign that things might be getting better. He tried to remember the steps Dr. Raynor gave to him when he was having an episode as bad as this one, but his mind was still foggy. He didn’t think laying on the floor in the dark was helping much, but he was so tired that he couldn’t force himself to sit up. Not to mention, he now had a cat sleeping soundly on his chest.  

The air in the room dried Bucky’s eyes out again, forcing them closed, which burned so fiercely that unearned tears formed in the corner of his eyes. He didn’t want to do this, but the weight of everything he’d done in his life was exhausting him. An hour of sleep wouldn’t kill him. Bucky relaxed his face, drifting into a twilight sleep, desperately hoping he wouldn’t make an appearance. 

Of course, he did. 

There was blood everywhere. Bucky looked down at his hands, one made of flesh and bone and the other of unforgiving metal. Both were coated in red. In fact, the entire room was splattered with the insides of someone else, painting the walls with dark stains. The room smelled sharply of copper, and Bucky tried not to puke when he realized he was standing in his apartment. 

A gurgle behind him froze him to his spot, panting. He turned, slowly looking over his shoulder until he saw who he’d killed this time. It was you, curled into a ball, throat slashed and bleeding profusely. Bucky crumbled to the floor, slipping as he crawled toward your figure. Your eyes widened as he got close, and the horrific realization that you were afraid of him nearly killed him. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he croaked, shaking his head. He hunched over, pressing his forehead to the messy tile. “I’m so sorry.” 

A new weight on his chest woke him from his nightmare, lurching him out of the horror so quickly that he felt dizzy when he came to. He sat up, unable to see anything but his crimson-stained kitchen. Whoever was in his apartment pushed against his chest again, and Bucky realized his metal hand had wrapped around the intruder’s neck out of habit. 

“Bucky!” 

A voice that felt familiar, almost like home, echoed in his head. He blinked once, twice. 

“Bucky, it’s me!” 

Something nudged at his subconscious, telling him to stop. A darker side of him begged him to squeeze tighter. His vision cleared, and suddenly he was staring you in the face. Sickening guilt overwhelmed him as you gasped; tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, and you looked terrified. 

He pried his fingers away from your throat, tugging his hand to his chest in a swift motion. You sagged forward, falling to your hands and knees, wheezing. Every cough that sputtered from your throat rattled his bones, but he forced himself to listen to the noise. He’d earned this overwhelming desire to die after what he’d just done. 

“Bucky,” you gulped, heaving as air filled your lungs. 

Alpine, appearing from wherever she’d been hiding, nuzzled against your hunched figure. Tears stung his eyes as he processed the sin he’d just committed. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, heart thundering in his chest. He crawled toward you, unable to stop himself even after he’d hurt you. “I’m so sorry, baby. I was having- I was having a nightmare,” he said, gulping. 

The term nightmare felt wrong now that he was awake. This was his worst nightmare staring him in the face, and it was all his fault. 

“It’s my fault,” you breathed, sucking in air. “I shouldn’t have woken you like that. It’s my fault.” 

Bucky’s face crumpled. 

“No, baby, it was me. I’m so sorry.” 

Sobs wracked his body, and in all of those pent up emotions, Bucky Barnes finally broke the dam holding his emotions back and told the truth for once. 

He mumbled about the nightmares he’d been having, the hours of time lost to trauma flashbacks. He told you about him and his inability to get away from the mistakes of his past. He cried and cried when he thought about how many people he’d hurt. It felt good to finally tell someone besides his therapist, but he knew it was all in vain. You would never forgive him for this atrocity. Who could possibly love someone as broken and violent as him? 

When he finished speaking, he buried his head in his hands, emotionally wrung out from the events of his entire life. He expected you to stand up, leave, and never speak to him again. He understood that he deserved that. 

But you didn’t do any of that. Instead, the cool sensation of your fingertips brushing through his hair sent a spark of comfort so intense his limbs nearly gave out. He looked up, catching your gaze as you watched him fall apart. 

“Bucky,” you said, whispering so softly that he could barely hear you, “This is not your fault.” 

He opened his mouth to argue, but you shushed him by placing your finger on his lips. 

“Listen to me,” you said more sternly, cradling his cheeks and forcing him to look at you. “You are not a monster. Everything you feel guilty about was him. You are not him, Bucky. You’re you, and I love all of you. Even the broken pieces. All of us do.” 

“What if I am him?” Bucky asked, tears clinging to his lashes. “What if I can’t stop him from doing what he does best?” 

“The scientists who programmed him are cowards,” you sneered. “You are not. You saved the universe, Bucky. The mistakes from the past don’t define you. You know this. You know who you are. I know who you are.” 

You ran your thumbs under his eyes, wiping away the evidence of his misery. 

“What if I hurt you again?” Bucky asked, dropping his gaze to your already-bruised throat. “What if you can’t stop me next time?” 

“I didn’t stop you this time. You did.” You said, shrugging. “You’re stronger than he is, Bucky. Don’t let him win.” 

Alpine snuggled against Bucky’s leg, comforting him like she’d comforted you earlier. 

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured. “Why do you stay?” 

“You’re worthy of love, Bucky, and I’ll remind you of that as many times as you need. He can’t scare me away.” 

Your tone hadn’t left room for him to disagree, and even though he could feel the stirrings of an argument deep in his chest, he sort of believed you. 

Bucky Barnes was still a worrier and a liar. He worried about and lied to everyone in his life except for one person. But months later, when he could feel himself slipping away, he thought about you, and worried just a little bit less. 

Tag List:

@purple-amaranthe @raajali3 @kokoterainonago @blackwidownat2814 @minervadashwood @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @fightmilk @alina02 @fictional-hooman @violet-19999 @purpleetou @certifiedhunter @shoxji @bontensbabygirl @dumb-fawkin-bitch @americaarse @m0nster-fvcker @thatgirljayy @azriel-the-shadowsinger @myguiltypleasures21 @thegirlwiththeeyes1297 @twsssmlmaa @desert-fern @top1bbgloak @ryebreadsworld @niki-is-a-thing @bxmaaa @joalslibrary @pascalispet @mystic-writings @spideykiks @britishvamps @lucienofthelakes @silas-aeiou @rosemary0414 @fxlsealarm @kiwiharrykiwi @telepathay @itwasthereaminuteago @itwasthereaminuteago-fics @carolinaxvz @alexaplayldr @las-galletas @raelynnstar

[amhrosina]

Dirty Little Secret

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

Pairing: dbf!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Tags/Warnings: dad's best friend!bucky, emotional smut, minor argument, ex-boyfriend is an asshole, oral (fem receiving), p in v, pet names, age gap (not super mentioned in the fic but implied), bucky is a little bit obsessed with reader, college!reader, bucky drops the L word

Summary:

Bucky Barnes was too old to be into his best friend’s daughter, but that never stopped him from hating every single boyfriend you’d ever brought home. In fact, hate was an understatement. He loathed them. When your boyfriend abandons you on the side of the road, Bucky finally shows you exactly why he hates your boyfriends so much.

Bucky Barnes was too old to be into his best friend’s daughter, but that never stopped him from hating every single boyfriend you’d ever brought home. In fact, hate was an understatement. He loathed them. Your dad couldn’t even fathom the vitriol Bucky seemed to harbor for every man interested in looking your direction, but he didn’t complain. Bucky kept shitty men away from his daughter. Why would he have a problem with that? 

The unfortunate side effect of Bucky’s hatred was that boyfriends didn’t tend to stick around very long. And you weren’t going to admit this, but he always ended up being right about them. They were shitty men, but you wanted attention as much as the next girl, and that was hard to find sometimes. 

All of this information played in the back of your mind as you watched the taillights of your boyfriend’s car speed out of the parking lot you had just been abandoned in. It was after midnight, and the area wasn’t necessarily a safe one. You weren’t even supposed to be in this fucking parking lot, and now you had no way of getting home unless you wanted to walk or call Bucky, which was out of the question. 

Bucky would narc on your whereabouts as soon as he could, and you were not losing the rest of your summer because of a stupid boy. Though, it would be nice to see Bucky again. He’d been hanging around less and less since you’d come home from college, and it was beginning to feel personal. Maybe you could convince him to keep your secret for you. Either way, you needed a way out of this sketchy parking lot. 

“Shit.” You murmured, rolling your eyes and stomping with a dramatic, over-the-top huff. Bucky would’ve laughed and called you a kid for doing it, but it felt right given the circumstances. This entire situation felt so embarrassing, and you hated to tell him he was right. You called him, nonetheless. 

He picked up before the second ring could finish. 

“Hey, doll. You okay?” 

His voice, raspy with sleep, sent goosebumps skittering down your spine. Doll. You tried not to blush into the phone. 

“Hi Buck,” you murmured, “I’m sorry I woke you up.” 

“It’s fine, doll. Where are you? I thought you were at the library with Brad. Chad? What was his name again?” 

You snickered. He knew very well your now ex-boyfriend's name but couldn’t bring himself to say it. It didn’t matter now anyways. 

“Yeah, about that,” you sighed. “We didn’t exactly go to the library. We got into a fight. I don’t know where he went, but he left.” 

“Doll, where are you?” 

His voice was much more alert now. You could hear him shuffling around in the background, probably looking for clothes to put on. 

“I’m fine,” you reminded him, biting your lip. “I just need a ride home.” 

“Tell me where you are, right now,” he demanded through gritted teeth, and because you were so good at listening to him, you did exactly that. 

When Bucky pulled into the parking lot, he looked less angry than you were expecting. Worry painted his features, a stark contrast from the usual laid-back expression on his face. Worry faded into relief when he made eye contact with you. He was out of the car wrapping his arms around you faster than you could blink. 

Your attention snagged on the grey sweatpants he was wearing, unable to keep your eyes from drifting down his tall figure.  

“I’m gonna kill that guy,” Bucky mumbled into your hair, squeezing you against his chest. “He just left? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, Buck. Thanks for picking me up.” 

“Of course, Doll. Let’s get you home, okay?” 

Bucky didn’t take you home. He took you to his home, which was much more preferable than trying to sneak into your dad’s house so late at night. The drive home had been quiet, likely due to the late hour, but also because Bucky was stewing in the driver’s seat. The longer he thought about your boyfriend abandoning you basically on the side of the road, the more upset he got. 

What confused you the most was that his anger seemed to be directed mostly at you. It was as though having you safe and sound in his car made him more furious about the entire situation. He’d barely looked at you since getting in the car, and it was driving you insane. 

When he pulled into his driveway, neither of you moved to get out of the car. He put the car in park, huffed, and then finally looked at you. He didn’t say anything, which made it all the more awkward for you. 

When you couldn’t take it anymore, you said, “I don’t understand why you’re so upset.” 

He scoffed. 

“How many times did I tell you he would hurt you?” 

It was your turn to scoff. 

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you said. 

You were lying through your teeth. It became his business as soon as you asked him for a ride so late at night, but you were too chicken to admit that out loud. His eyebrows shot into his hairline before he barked a laugh. 

“None of my business? Doll, everything you do is my business. How many times have you come running to me when a boy hurts you? It’s Bucky’s job to pick up the pieces, but never to make you feel good, right? Is that it?” 

“Oh, please,” you said, ignoring the spark of pleasure that shot through your body when he mentioned making you feel good. Claustrophobia overwhelmed you in the car. Being so close to Bucky’s handsome face and alluring scent launched your hormones into a frenzy every time you took a breath. He was everywhere and you couldn’t think straight. You shot out of the car, slamming the door behind you as you stomped away.  

Bucky was right behind you, calling after you in a way that made your knees wobble. He gently closed his car door, sighing when he realized you were waiting for him by his front door. 

“You’re right,” you mumbled, ignoring his searching stare as he unlocked the door and waved you forward. “It’s not fair to you, but you don’t have to say it like that.” 

“Someone ought to,” he snapped. “Look at me.” 

You turned away, purposely avoiding his gaze. 

“Doll, look at me.” 

He stepped in front of you, gently cradling your chin. 

He whispered, “Look at me, please,” and because you were so good at listening to him, you did. 

“Beautiful.”  

He said it so quietly that you weren’t sure he meant for you to hear it. You froze under his watchful gaze, which flicked down to your lips and back up again. 

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” He breathed, caressing your cheek with his thumb. 

You swallowed, nodding slowly. You wanted to stay a lot longer than one night. 

“This is a bad idea,” he murmured, glancing at your lips again. “I can’t want this.” 

Suddenly, he was halfway across the room, fists clenched at his side. The sudden absence of warmth sent a shiver through you. He was so hot and cold that it was getting hard to keep up. 

“Buck-,” you started, but he was moving again, and then his lips were on yours. 

He groaned into the kiss, a desperate noise that mirrored your own desire for him. His arms wrapped around your waist, ferociously tugging you against his chest. You moaned into his mouth as swiped his tongue over yours. 

“I’ve wanted to do this-,” he said, before kissing you again, unable to keep away now that he tasted the forbidden fruit, “-the entire summer.” 

You could tell that he meant it. He kissed you like he meant it. 

“I know I should feel bad,” he said, lifting you so that you could wrap your legs around his waist, “but I don’t. This feels fucking amazing, doll.” 

“Bucky,” you moaned, whimpering when he attached his lips to your neck, nibbling at a spot that sent heat directly to your core. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, breathing into the crook of your neck. “Tell me you want me too,” he begged, nearly whining. 

You were glad he was holding you up because you would’ve fallen to your knees at the sound of his whine. He gripped your waist tightly, waiting for your answer. You pressed your lips against his, wondering why it took him so long to finally admit that there was something between the two of you. 

“I want you, Bucky,” you murmured against his lips, “I’m all yours.” 

He smirked. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said before slamming his lips against yours. 

His bed was soft. You’d imagined lying in it a million times; underneath him, atop him, on all fours – but you’d never thought about how soft it would be. You’d removed your shirt halfway to his bedroom, throwing it in a random direction because you had to feel his skin against yours. He’d thrown you on the bed, tugging your pants down your legs in one smooth motion, and now he was standing at the end of the bed, watching you squirm beneath his gaze. His fingers lightly grazed your ankle, tickling. 

“What is it?” You asked, crossing your arms over your exposed breasts. 

“Don’t do that,” he chided, clicking his tongue. “Don’t hide. I want to see all of you.” 

You slowly uncrossed your arms, exposing yourself to him. He sucked in a breath, slowly lowering his gaze from your face to your body. 

“Can I touch you? Taste you? Fuck you?” He asked finally, and you nearly moaned at the rasp in his voice.  

“Yes,” you moaned, “please.” 

He didn’t waste any time, dropping his face to your core and swiping his tongue through your folds. You nearly bucked off the bed, but he held you down, groaning against you. 

“Oh, fuck, Bucky,” you moaned, arching your back. “Don’t stop.” 

His tongue was a glorious feeling against your skin, sucking and nibbling at your sensitive core. You’d never felt this good while getting head from anyone else, and you doubted you ever would again. He wound you up tighter and tighter until heat pounded in your core and you couldn’t remember which direction was up. 

“I’ve wanted to taste you for so long, doll,” he murmured between licks, kissing your mound as you quivered beneath him. 

“Please, Bucky,” you whined, heart pounding. 

“Please what, baby?” He asked, tilting his head. He was teasing you, and you were putty in his hands. 

“Please touch me. Please. I’m so close,” you mewled, squeezing your eyes closed. A desperate tear escaped as he teased you mercilessly. 

“Since you asked so nicely, baby,” he said, finally swirling his tongue around your clit. 

You exploded beneath him, gasping at the pleasure as it radiated through you. Wave after wave of your orgasm crested, relieving the pressure that had been building since the very first moment you’d seen Bucky in the parking lot earlier. You squirmed beneath him, grasping at the sheets before you finally wound your fingers in his hair, tugging. 

“There you go, doll,” he murmured, coaxing you down from your high, running his fingers around your thighs in a soothing motion. “You’re so pretty when you come.” 

You heaved, heart thundering in your chest. His cheek rested against your thigh, watching you come back to yourself. Slickness coated his chin, and you nearly came from the sight of him alone. His eyes, usually an icy blue, were dark oceans of desire, waiting patiently for a sign that you were ready for him. 

“Fuck, Bucky,” you panted, “I should’ve called you a long time ago. That was insane.” 

His eyes briefly darkened - the only indication that he was still upset with you for being so blind to his feelings – before he blinked it away, smirking. 

“I’m not done with you just yet, doll,” he murmured, slowly inching his way up your exhausted body.  

He trailed up your stomach, lightly pressing his lips to your soft skin and relishing the feeling with each kiss. When he made his way to your sternum, he paused, nuzzling his head to your chest. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispered, breath fanning across your exposed nipples, hardening them almost painfully. He hovered there for a moment, waiting for your consent again. “I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you.”  

You hazily blinked, trying and failing to focus on his words when his mouth was so close to your breasts.  

“Can I have you, doll?” He asked, a ghost of a whisper. “Will you let me have this part of you? Will it be enough to satiate the need I have for you?” 

You couldn’t tell if he was talking to you or to himself, but you didn’t care. Heat was coiling in your gut once again. His words alone were enough to elicit a whine from your throat. 

“Will you still look at me in the morning the way you’re looking at me now?” He asked, squeezing the flesh beneath his fingertips. “One night will never be enough, but I won’t complain if it means you’ll have me tonight.” 

You whimpered, unable to voice the desire you felt for him. He was everything you’d ever wanted and more. 

“You’re mine,” he murmured, licking his lips. “All mine, tonight.” 

“Always, Buck,” you gasped, arching your back so that his lips were even closer to your chest. “I’m yours, always.” 

A genuine smile crossed his face, so sweet and obvious in its joy that his next movement sent a shock through your entire system. His tongue flattened against your breast, drawing a tantalizing line from your nipple to your collar bone before he kissed your throat. The sudden contact from his warm mouth sent you over the edge for a second time, clawing at his back for more, more more. 

Grunting, he slid into you mid-orgasm, eliciting a moan from deep in your chest. You’d never felt so full before, and you loved it. You arched your back, begging him to move. No more waiting or teasing. You needed him everywhere, and he was more than happy to oblige. 

“Shit, baby,” he cooed, warm breath heating your neck, “you feel so good.” 

His need for you was visceral and endless. He pounded into you with such passion that your body couldn’t do anything except hold on and enjoy the ride. He teased, and nipped, and laughed into your skin as your bodies came together, an act of vulnerability you had never experienced with anyone before. 

Not to mention how much he talked during it. He sang praises against the column of your throat, calling you the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, claiming he didn’t deserve the attention you were giving him, wishing he could stay this close to you forever. His words were overwhelming and incredibly seductive, breathing life into you as he sent you crashing over the edge, a showcase of pure greed for your pleasure. 

He kissed you like he’d never get to kiss you again, begging another and another and another off of you, worshipping the softness of your lips and the heat in your gaze. He couldn’t get enough, holding you against him so tightly when he came that you could feel it in your bones. 

“Breathe, baby,” he cooed, peppering your cheeks with kisses as your mind reeled with pleasure. “My pretty, pretty girl.” 

You didn’t think you’d ever come down from your high, but eventually you blinked and could see the ceiling again. Tears sprung from behind your eyes, another emotional release that you didn’t quite understand. 

“That was so good,” you exclaimed, more tears escaping down your cheeks. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see you, Bucky.” 

Bucky wiped the tears away, kissing the streaks they left behind. 

“I’m not mad, doll,” he said simply, shaking his head. 

“I’m an idiot,” you sniffled, “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re not an idiot,” he scoffed, and though he was smiling, you could tell he was serious. “Don’t worry about it, pretty girl. Just stay with me tonight, and we’ll figure everything else out tomorrow, okay?” 

“Everything else?” You questioned, blinking away the last of the tears you’d shed. 

He smirked, unable to hide his glee when he said, “I don’t know how I’m going to look your dad in the face after what we just did together. How do I tell him I’m in love with his daughter? He’s going to kill me.” 

It was your turn to giggle as Bucky flopped onto his back, running his hand over his face in a pitiful manner. He hadn’t even realized what he’d said, which sent a shock of butterflies through your body. You decided to keep that little secret to yourself, enjoying the playfulness in his gaze. 

“I think that’s a problem for tomorrow,” you commented, stifling another laugh. 

“Too true,” he joked, shaking his head, “I’m way too old to be up this late.” 

He gently tugged on your arm, pulling you toward him so that you were straddling his waist. He cradled your hips, running his fingertips along the skin he’d worshipped earlier. 

“I have some bad news about that,” you murmured, leaning forward to kiss the crease that formed between his eyebrows. “I’m starving.” 

He grinned, nipping at the skin beneath your collarbone. 

“I have some bad news about that,” he repeated, smirking. A mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes as he said, “I’m starving too,” and kissed you so sensually that heat sparked deep in your core again. 

He grasped your hips tightly, grinding your sensitive mound against his already hard member. 

“Oh,” you tutted, smirking, “I guess we can put off breakfast for a little longer.” 

“You’re sure?” He questioned, arching an eyebrow at you. 

“Oh, yes,” you assured him. 

Bucky Barnes was too old to be into his best friend’s daughter, but that never stopped him from hating every single boyfriend you’d ever brought home. Every single boyfriend besides one – he sort of loved the last one for sending you in his direction, but he’d never admit that out loud. 

Tag List:

@purple-amaranthe @raajali3 @kokoterainonago @blackwidownat2814 @minervadashwood @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @fightmilk @alina02 @fictional-hooman @violet-19999 @purpleetou @certifiedhunter @shoxji @bontensbabygirl @dumb-fawkin-bitch @americaarse @m0nster-fvcker @thatgirljayy @azriel-the-shadowsinger @myguiltypleasures21 @thegirlwiththeeyes1297 @twsssmlmaa @desert-fern @top1bbgloak @ryebreadsworld @niki-is-a-thing @bxmaaa @joalslibrary @pascalispet @mystic-writings @spideykiks @britishvamps @lucienofthelakes @silas-aeiou @rosemary0414 @fxlsealarm @kiwiharrykiwi @telepathay @itwasthereaminuteago @itwasthereaminuteago-fics @carolinaxvz @alexaplayldr @las-galletas @raelynnstar

[amhrosina]

july 2026 life update

besties!!! still here, just massively enjoying my summer break before another semester of teaching the future of america!

- i am currently writing not one but TWO bucky barnes fics

- one of them is a variation of dad’s best friend and yes there is smut lol

- amhrosina is in her bucky barnes era again idk what happened

- also drafting dbf!frank part 3 BUT i have hit a bit of writer’s block in that department

- v excited to see frank in spider man later this week! i feel like we’re about to see the frank castle fandom grow like crazy!!

- spent my day tasting cake for my wedding which is happening in less than a year and i am STRESSED but im so excited

- wondering if i should do a wedding series similar to how i did the pregnancy head canons a few years ago?? could be fun!

[amhrosina]

i saw exactly one (1!) bucky barnes tiktok last night and have spent the last 18 hours crafting a fic in my head so devastating that idk if im capable of putting myself through that again.....

[amhrosina]

just wanted to say you are one of my fav writers on here and i look forward to your posts! glad you are doing well!! 💞💞

nonnie, you are the sweetest!

[amhrosina]

Hiii! How have you been?🥰

hiii!

i just got back from a mini-vacation that was *much needed* and now i’m focusing on writing part 3 of dad’s best friend & possibly some new stuff!

[amhrosina]

Fratt Masterlist (Updated August 1 2026)

❤️ - fluff ❤️‍🔥 - smut ❤️‍🩹 - angst

a/n: she finally did it....all her fratt fics in one place!!! none of these necessarily happen in the same universe, or chronologically! they're little glimpses into f!reader's life with frank and matt OR matt/frank alone. you can find my individual f!reader x frank and f!reader x matt fics on my masterlist :)

f!Reader x Fratt:

Tease Me Before You Please Me ❤️‍🔥

Play Time ❤️‍🔥

Show Me How Much You Missed Me ❤️‍🔥

Favorite Kind of Trouble ❤️‍🔥

Bad Dreams (Hold Me Closer) ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹

An Unexpected Delight ❤️‍🔥

Small Bump ❤️❤️‍🩹

Betrayals & Apologies ❤️❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥

Spelling out I Love You ❤️

I Want Your Girlfriend to be My Girlfriend Too ❤️❤️‍🔥

Two is Better Than One ❤️❤️‍🔥

Frank x Matt:

Stumbling In  ❤️‍🩹

[amhrosina]

Hi ! I was wondering if Dad's Best Friend end with the part 2 ? Or do you have other part planned ?

Thank you ☺️

nonnie, don’t you worry your pretty little head

dbf!frank is here to stay

[amhrosina]

Situationship - Part Two

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST // FRANK CASTLE MASTERLIST

Part One

Pairing: Frank Castle x f!Reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, reader gets stabbed lol, hurt/comfort, angst, love confessions, smut, mostly plot with a little bit of vague porn, emotional!!!!!, not beta read or edited but i wanted to post it tonight bc no love island!!!

Summary:

Situationship - an undefined, romantic, or sexual relationship that lacks clear commitment, labels, or future, acting as a “grey area” between friendship and a formal partnership. It is characterized by inconsistency, lack of long-term plans, and emotional ambiguity. 

Frank Castle – infuriatingly great-in-bed man who somehow charms his way into your pants every time you see him; functionally incapable of expressing his feelings beyond grunts and grumbles. He is characterized by inconsistency, lack of long-term plans, and emotional ambiguity. Also referred to as “asshole”. 

The city buzzed with life as you made your way through the busy streets of Hell’s Kitchen. The guy you were tailing had been growing more restless by the minute, ducking in and out of alleyways and looking over his shoulder. You weren’t worried he would see you. You knew he was looking for someone else – someone much more dangerous than you, allegedly. 

As a matter of fact, you were looking over your shoulder for the same man. Frank fucking Castle. His name alone was enough to send a pang through your chest. You missed him. You wanted to strangle him. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to murder him. It was all very healthy. 

You hadn’t seen Frank in a few weeks, which wasn’t anything new to you, though it stung a little that he could drop you as easily as he picked you up. He’d broken his promise to you again. He left you after a lustful night together, again. He snuck out like a little bitch, again. 

The next time would be different. You were exhausted from the back and forth with Frank, and it wasn’t fair that he knew exactly how to grunt his way back into your good graces. This time an apology wouldn’t be enough. 

You watched as your target ducked into another alleyway, throwing his hood over his head in an attempt to hide his identity. You snorted at how naive he was. If Frank was planning on killing someone, he’d get it done no matter how well they hid themselves. Frank was all power and no feelings when he donned the Punisher logo, and you had no doubt that he was out to get the man who stabbed him a few weeks prior. No – that wasn’t exactly right. It wasn’t that Frank didn’t have any feelings. It was that Frank felt too much when he wore the vest because he’d sacrificed everything to wear it. That’s what made him frightening. 

Too bad for Frank that you were going to get the guy first. 

You swung around the corner of the alleyway, idly putting your hands in your sweatshirt pockets. Cool, calm, innocent. Nothing to see here, except of course the bullet about to be lodged in his skull. 

It dawned on you that maybe you should’ve taken Matt up on his offer to come with you as back up when the man jumped in front of you, burying a knife in your gut before you could blink. The man’s eyes widened as you sucked in a breath. He dislodged the knife, dropping it to the concrete. A pool of blood slowly seeped into your shirt. It happened so quickly that you barely understood what went wrong. 

“Oh shit!” He placed his blood-stained hands on your shoulders, looking behind you for any witnesses. “You were supposed to be someone else! Shit!” 

Your vision swam, pain shooting through your legs as you tried not to pass out. Your breath whistled out of you as you stumbled into the brick wall, pressing all of your bodyweight against it. 

The man continued freaking out as you righted yourself, mumbling to himself about how screwed he was. If only he knew the half of it. 

“Fuck,” you gritted through your teeth, sucking in small breaths of air, “you.” 

“What?” He paused, turning to look at your semi-hunched figure, confusion clear in his voice. 

You took a deep breath before throwing your body against his, knocking the two of you to the ground. The only thing that kept you alive was the fact that you’d surprised him. He scrambled for the knife, a shiny gem lying on the dirty concrete a few feet away.  

“Crazy bit-.” 

It didn’t matter. The knife you'd hidden in your sleeve was lodged in his throat before he could finish his sentence. Thick, dark blood bubbled from his throat, soaking your hands. You rolled onto your back, struggling to breathe. Your wound was still leaking blood, and you were growing woozier by the second. 

Hell’s Kitchen doubled, then tripled in your vision before righting itself again. This was such a stupid way to die. For a stupid man who deserved none of your stupid attention. Anger flooded through you, mixed with apprehension. Frank would be furious that you did this for him. What were you thinking? 

Your eyelids fluttered closed, and then someone was pushing their hands into your wound, and they flew open again. 

Frank was there, saying something that you were too tired to comprehend. He looked like an angel from your perspective on the ground. The streetlights haloed his handsome face as he leaned over you, no doubt yelling at you for your stupidity. You didn’t care. At least the guy who stabbed Frank was dead. 

“Baby, you have to keep your eyes open,” Frank murmured, putting more pressure against your side. “Can I see your pretty eyes? Hmm?” 

You hadn’t realized you’d closed them again. You blinked them open, focusing on Frank’s raspy voice. Surely, you were dead, and this is what heaven felt like. 

“This ain’t heaven yet, sweetheart,” he responded, arching an eyebrow at your delirious state. 

You hadn’t meant to say that out loud. 

“This part’s gonna hurt,” he warned, running a knuckle down your cheek, “But you have to stay awake, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” 

You were about to ask what he meant, and then pain was everywhere. Fire curled around every nerve; a never-ending agony that wrapped itself around your throat and suffocated your scream. The last thing you remembered was the distinct feeling of Frank’s hand on your cheek, a familiar and settling gesture, and then everything went black. 

x 

Your throat was so dry it hurt to swallow. When you opened your eyes, you expected to stare at the walls of a hospital, but that certainly wasn’t the case. You looked around, recognizing the room you slept in every time you stayed at Micro’s. It was as comforting as it could be, especially because Frank Castle’s giant frame was asleep in the tiniest chair possible next to your bed. 

It couldn’t possibly be comfortable. The ever-present knot between his eyebrows begged to be smoothed out, but you hesitated. The idea of touching him after what he’d done felt wrong, even though your body begged to feel his touch again. You’d sworn you were done with him, and it didn’t matter that he probably saved your life. It was the least he could do after how he’d treated you the last time you were in this room with him. 

You slowly sat up, wincing at the sharp pain that emanated from the wound on your side. Someone, probably Frank, had taken their time dressing the wound. Gauze was wrapped tightly around your side, supporting you while also keeping the wound sealed. 

You swung your feet to the floor, holding your breath as you stood. The pain was a dull roar in the back of your mind. You wanted to get far away from Frank before he helped you forget every bad thing he’d ever done. You limped forward, nearly tripping before being caught by strong, capable hands. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Frank grunted. 

“Getting away from you,” you muttered, gritting your teeth as you tried to take another step. 

“Me?” Frank scoffed, arms holding steadfast against your attempts at fleeing. 

“Don’t act dumb,” you chided, pushing against him again. 

“You were stabbed, sweetheart. I’m just trying to keep you from hurting yourself. Again.” 

The last part he added after a few moments of silence.  

You sighed, slowly returning to a seated position on the side of the bed. Frank didn’t pull his hands away until you assured him that you were fine sitting up on your own. 

“What are you doing here, Frank?”  

You eyed him, too exhausted to argue. He looked as terrible as you did, if you were being honest. His eyes had dark circles under them, and he still had blood stains on the skin of his hands. 

“Don’t act dumb,” he said, returning to the chair he’d been asleep in moments before. “I spent hours saving your life. I’m not leaving until I know you’re in the clear.” 

You hesitated, then said, “But you are leaving. Again.” 

Anger, and maybe a hint of regret, flickered in his eyes. You didn’t let it affect the angst bubbling in your gut. 

“And then I’ll see you in a few weeks,” you muttered, rolling your eyes, “and we’ll argue, and you’ll say you’re sorry. We’ll have amazing sex, you’ll promise not to leave, and then you will. I know how this goes Frank. You might as well just get it over with and hurt me now so I can get over it.” 

“That’s not exactly how it goes,” he cleared his throat. “Besides, you seem to get yourself hurt plenty all on your own.” 

You glared at him, ignoring the part of your brain that enjoyed the back and forth with him. 

“I did that for you, asshole,” you sneered. 

“I specifically told you to let me handle them,” he argued, returning your glare with a hard stare. “And you ignored that. And then you almost died.” 

He put his head in his hands, running his fingers through his curls. He looked both furious and distraught, which confused you. 

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” you murmured. “I’m fine. I’m always fine.” 

“You were not,” he gritted, “fine when I found you half-dead in an alley.” He stood, grunting. “’m upset because you could’ve died.” 

You narrowed your gaze at him. 

“You’re being ridic-” 

Frank knelt in front of you, cutting you off and wrapping his hands around your wrists. He gently pulled your arms to his chest, cradling them. He murmured your name so softly that you felt your breath hitch in your throat. 

“I can’t do this again,” he murmured, shaking his head. “I can’t lose you too, baby.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. It was probably the gentlest Frank had ever been with you. His thumbs softly brushed against your wrists as he cleared his throat, eyes glistening with what you realized were genuine tears in his eyes. You felt your heart melting, but your distrust was bone deep at this point. How could you trust that he’d stay this time when he was so good at leaving? 

Finally, you cleared your throat and said, “Don’t call me that unless you mean it.” 

“I mean it, sweetheart.” He nodded his head once for emphasis. 

“Do you?” You questioned, crumbling under his intense gaze.  

It hurt too much to think about Frank leaving again. Every time he walked out, a piece of you left with him, and it felt like you had nothing left to give. 

“What you did was reckless,” he whispered, voice cracking, “and when I saw you lying there, I thought you were gone.” He swallowed thickly, closing his eyes. A tear escaped down his cheek, reminding you of all the things haunting Frank at any given moment. “It felt like I died, too. And I didn’t know I was capable of feeling that way after everything that happened to Maria and the kids.” 

“Frank, I-” 

“I know you don’t trust me. Hell, I wouldn’t either.” He opened his eyes again, refocusing his intense gaze on you. “But I can’t lose someone I love again, sweetheart. It’s too much.” 

You blinked, wondering if you really had died and gone to heaven. 

“Love?” You asked, ignoring the roaring flames in your chest. You shook your head, tears pricking the back of your eyes. “You don’t love me, Frank.” 

“I do,” he pleaded. “I do love you.” 

“You don’t!” You stood too quickly, too overwhelmed with distrust to care about your aching wound. Tears finally spilled onto your cheeks, a culmination of weeks of heartbreak and pain. 

Frank still held your arms against his chest, holding you steady like he always did when it mattered. He slowly rose to his full height, pushing his weight against yours. You wanted to shove him away like he’d done to you so many times, but couldn’t muster the energy to pretend anymore. 

“I do love you,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “You don’t have to believe me yet, but ‘ts true. I called you my salvation, and I meant it.” 

“I want to believe you,” you sighed, exhausted from fighting his feelings and your own. 

“I’ve fucked up a lot,” Frank said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“That’s an understatement,” you murmured, mostly to yourself. 

Frank chuckled, breaking the tension in the room a little. 

“I’m tryin’ to apologize,” he said, grinning when he saw you fighting to hide your smile. 

“You’re doing a terrible job at it,” you said, teasing him because you couldn’t help yourself anymore. 

“There’s that smart ass mouth that I love,” he replied, momentarily flicking his gaze down to your lips. 

The hunger in his eyes was almost too much to bear. He’d never looked at you like this before, but whatever he was doing, it was working. He leaned his head forward slowly, angling his lips above yours. He was showing a remarkable amount of willpower, forcing you to be the one who closed the gap.  

You considered shoving him away and telling him to leave you alone. You considered leaving him so that he could feel the pain he’d put you through so many times before. 

Instead, in a small, pitiful whisper, you simply asked, “You’re not leaving?” 

He shook his head slightly, gaze darting around your tear-stricken face. “Never again, baby.” 

“I’m trusting you. Don’t make me regret it,” you warned, finally giving in and closing the distance. 

It was the softest kiss you’d ever shared with Frank, which startled you, because the last time you’d seen him you’d thought the same thing. His lips parted slightly as he cradled your cheeks. You didn’t know Frank was capable of being so gentle. You pushed against him, pressing your body fully against him as you opened your mouth. His tongue swiped over yours, and your heart felt like it may beat out of your chest. 

You slipped your hands under his shirt, running them along his toned abs as he continued to kiss y0u. When you began to raise the fabric, he pulled away, already shaking his head. 

“You’re hurt, baby. We can’t.” 

“I’m fine,” you huffed, heart pounding. 

“You were stabbed, sweetheart.” 

“So were you!” 

You eyed his previously wounded shoulder, remembering how deep the knife had been lodged in his skin. Flashes of what came after you’d yanked it out brought heat to your cheeks. The arguing. The sex. Him leaving and you waking to an empty bed. Not knowing that the next time you’d see each other, you’d be nearly dead in an alleyway, and he’d be trying everything to save you. 

“It’s different,” he shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You slowly ran your palms up along his chest, settling your hands against his jawbone. 

“You won’t,” you murmured, staring unflinchingly into his brooding eyes. “I promise.” 

He hesitated, eyeing the gauze still wrapped tightly around your torso. You could see the conflict in his gaze, warring over whether to give in to your desires or force you to heal first. You blinked up at him, waiting. 

“If it hurts, even a little-,” he started, arching his eyebrow at you. 

“We’ll stop,” you agreed, though you couldn’t imagine letting him go now that you had him. 

His eyes trailed down your body, pausing on the gauze. Finally, he relented, sighing heavily as he tugged his t-shirt up and over his broad shoulders. You stifled a moan, biting your lip at the sudden appearance of his toned body. You’d seen it dozens of times, but something about this encounter, as something more, felt raw and exciting. 

He pressed his lips to yours again, sliding his tongue into your open mouth like he’d done a hundred times before. This time, he smiled into the kiss, and your heart melted a little bit. You matched his smile, nipping at his bottom lip as he pulled away. 

“Still my bratty girl, yeah?” He asked, slowly sliding your shorts down your legs. His fingers softly pressed against your exposed skin as he stood, hesitant to hurt you but desperate to feel you. 

You nodded, biting your lip again as he teased you. You liked to act like he had no effect on you, but you both knew how impactful his words could be in the bedroom. He nudged you against the bed cautiously, still waiting for any evidence of pain to show on your face. 

“You’re being too gentle, Frankie,” you murmured, lying against the mattress and watching as Frank’s fists mindlessly clenched at his side. 

“'m tryin’ to be careful,” he chided, clicking his tongue, but nodded anyway. 

It was a very, very long night. 

Finally, after what felt like hours, Frank was climbing on top of you, completely bare in the dim bedroom. Your breasts pebbled in the cool air, desperate for friction, but you didn’t want to spook Frank. He was already so worried about accidentally hurting you. 

You sighed as he kissed a trail from your collar bone to your navel and back again. Your back arched on its own accord, tugging at the gauze against your wound. You winced but quickly hid it against Frank’s mouth, unwilling to wait weeks to feel Frank again. 

“Please, Frankie,” you murmured, spreading your legs even further. His painfully hard member rested against your throbbing clit, unmoving, and it was driving you insane. 

He watched the crease between your eyebrows subside before kissing the tip of your nose and sliding in. And in. And in. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, arching against him as he found a rhythm that felt safe for both of you. 

This was certainly a new avenue. You and Frank had slept together dozens, if not hundreds, of times, but you’d never made love. Frank whispered pretty things into your ear, emphasizing each word with a hard thrust. His elbows held him above you, hands gripping your head as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. 

When your orgasm found you, it was like nothing you’d felt before. Frank stared in awe as you breathed against him, the world stopping as every touch, kiss, and argument poured out of you. A tear briefly slid down your cheek, kissed away by Frank who hadn’t said much but didn’t need to. You were his, and he was yours, and this is how it was supposed to be. 

“You’re still okay?” He questioned, eyeing the gauze he’d carefully taped against your stab wound. 

“I’m perfect,” you mumbled, heart pounding. 

And, you realized, it didn’t matter that the world outside of this room would treat you and Frank the same as it always had. Frank had irrevocably changed the way you lived your life, and Frank being here, holding you against his chest, was quite possibly enough to make you feel whole again. If he left, you’d be destroyed beyond belief, but you didn’t think about that. You focused on the heat of his skin, and the press of his lips, and the way he said your name as he came.  

As you fell asleep later, curled against his chest, he whispered his promise of never leaving you over and over again. 

“Never again, baby. Never ever again.” 

tag list:

@fxlsealarm@kiwiharrykiwi@telepathay@itwasthereaminuteago@dumb-fawkin-bitch@carolinaxvz@wistericals@lucienofthelakes@zomtart@agirlwithmanyloves@myguiltypleasures21@alexxavicry@hallecarey1@km-ffluv@lilyevans1@22carolina08@aynsleywalker@queenofthenoobs@ostricx@horrorflix@charmed-asylum@xleiaorgana@blackwidownat2814

@minervadashwood@messymissy@mylifeispainandiloveit@fightmilk@spikedhe4rt@fictional-hooman@babyslyth@legocity2@quackson03@certifiedhunter@dumb-fawkin-bitch@thatgirljayy@scoliobean@evyiione@day-dreaming-goddess@ginnysculture@ryebreadsworld@laaundromat@niki-is-a-thing@kelp-dreaming@ladymercury8@joalslibrary@pascalispet@feelmyskinonyourskin@splendiferous-bitch@hellskitchenswhore@alexaplayldr @final-sights

[amhrosina]

wait i have a GENUINE question for fanfiction readers, pls advise

how much do we care about the continuity of wounds when smut is involved in a one shot……

like for example hypothetically if reader were to be stabbed how much are we going to care if smut happens after situationship!frank saves reader and they argue because he obviously loves her but he doesn’t want to lose her……..

[amhrosina]

hiiii just stopping by to say i love your writing and we miss you!! 💞💞💞

hiiii!! thank you so much!!

i am still here i am just beginning a master’s program and planning my wedding at the same time so my entire brain capacity is at 0 when i get time to write lol

[amhrosina]

Dad's Best Friend - Part Two (July, 1985)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST // FRANK CASTLE MASTERLIST

Part One

Pairing: older!Frank Castle x f!Reader

Summary: A heatwave strikes their small town, and with a little pressure from prying neighbors, her father decides to throw a barbecue. What she doesn't know is that her father's guest list includes a certain ex-boyfriend of hers, sending Frank into a jealous frenzy.

a/n: This one takes place about 6 months after chapter 1 :) I do plan on going back to explore their first meeting and hook-up at some point. I think we'll see Frank take her on a little weekend getaway in chapter 3! Thank you for reading!!! <3

Tags: this one has more exposition but still lots of smut lol, p in v sex, younger reader x older frank, porn with feelings, rough-ish sex, jealous frank, multiple orgasms (f!receiving), frank talks fmc through it, alternate universe, non-canon

The mid-July heat was no joke, even in their tiny town up north. A record-breaking heat wave was sending scores of townsfolk indoors or to the public pools in search of relief. Subsequently, her father had been roped into planning a barbeque by an innocent-looking Mrs. Cross, who’d been eyeing their unused pool for months and had brought cookies to wear her father down. She, of course, was voluntold to prepare the sides and finger foods. Neither her nor her father were happy with the arrangement, but Mrs. Cross could be very persuasive, and her dad was a sucker for freshly baked cookies. 

That is how she found herself in the midst of a packed aisle at the grocery store, looking up and down for hamburger buns. It perplexed her that they’d be out of them already, especially considering that Mrs. Cross had invited seemingly every single person in town to their barbecue. 

“Excuse me,” she spoke, pulling the attention of a clerk away from the cans he was restocking, “I can’t seem to find the hamburger buns.” 

She remembered him from high school, though she couldn’t remember his name. Ben? Eric? Something like that. Ben-Eric lazily glanced at the empty shelf, shrugging. 

“If they’re not on this shelf, we’re out of them.” 

“You can’t possibly be out of hamburger buns in July,” she stammered, exasperated. 

“Clearly,” he said, rolling his eyes, “we are.” 

He turned back to his task, placing more cans on the shelf at a snail's pace. She glared at his back. This is exactly why she couldn’t fathom being with someone her own age. Frank would never be so infuriatingly careless about his job. 

“Fine. Thanks.” She turned the cart around, heading down the aisle away from Ben-Eric. 

When she finally finished purchasing everything on Mrs. Cross’ list, minus hamburger buns, she loaded everything into the back of her father’s car. The time on her watch said she had plenty of time to make a pit-stop on the way home before her father began to worry, which she fully intended to do. It’d been too long without seeing Frank, and she didn’t think she’d get to see him very much until after the barbecue. They’d have to be extra discreet tonight. 

When she pulled up to Frank’s workshop, his car was the only one in the lot. She smiled. Good. She much preferred to speak with him when he wasn’t surrounded by older women. 

“Frank?” She called out, knocking as she entered. She could already feel sweat beading at her temple. It was sweltering, even inside his air-conditioned workshop. She should’ve left the car running to save herself from heat stroke later. Thankfully, she’d worn a skirt – Frank's favorite. 

Clanging echoed, followed by a grunt. She followed the noise, stepping carefully around the various bits of wood and buckets of paint that had been sporadically placed in different corners of the room. 

“Frank, it’s me.” She called again. 

“Yeah, what can I do for you?” 

He appeared almost out of thin air, rounding the corner with a pencil tucked behind his ear and a frustrated pout on his face. This is how he approached most of his clients, though his eyes softened when he realized she was alone. They were so good at playing this game together. 

“Sorry, I thought your dad might be with you,” he said, tugging her against his sweaty t-shirt. “To what do I owe a beautiful woman visiting me on the hottest day of the year?” 

She giggled, swatting at his chest, “You always have beautiful women visiting you.” 

“They don’t matter to me,” he said, shrugging and pulling her in for a kiss. She couldn’t resist the urge to swipe her tongue against his. He squeezed her against him, crouching slightly so that he could lift her into the air. It was second nature for her to wrap her legs around his waist. This was a dance they were all too familiar with. 

He tasted of salt and coffee, a mix that she was growing more and more addicted to. She couldn’t get enough of it, of him. She moaned into his mouth when she grinded against his length, hard and begging to be freed from the confines of his tight jeans. He turned, setting her down on top of a tool bench. The cool metal burned against her heated skin, melting all sense of time or urgency away. Frank groaned as she pulled his waist closer to hers with her legs, yearning for more, more, more of him. 

Suddenly, a vision of Mrs. Cross tutting in her direction entered her brain. The ice cream, the lack of hamburger buns. The afternoon she’d have to spend readying herself for the entire town to have eyes on her and her father. It felt wrong, but she pried her mouth away from his, gasping. 

“I have ice cream in the trunk,” she groaned, almost whining at the ridiculous list that Mrs. Cross had given her. “And I need hamburger buns or Mrs. Cross is going to kill me.” 

“Okay,” Frank blinked through his lustful haze, nodding slowly, “I have some at my house.” 

“You have some at your house,” she repeated, mirroring his head movement. 

“Y’wanna stop by and get them before the party?” 

“Yes,” she breathed, watching his pupils dilate as his hands crawled up her exposed thighs. “I really do have ice cream in the trunk.” 

Frank chuckled, inching his hands higher. He was overwhelmingly big, taking up so much space in her vision that she could hardly see over his shoulder. She gulped, blinking up at him with the doe eyes that he adored. 

“I can be quick,” he said. He was so close to her now that she could feel the ghost of his words on her lips.  

Goosebumps skittered down her spine in the wake of his heated words. She seriously considered telling Mrs. Cross to go to hell and take her melted ice cream with her, but hesitated. As much as this barbecue was annoying her father, it felt nice that he’d be surrounded by so many people again. It’d been a long time since their house was filled with more than just her, her father, and occasionally, Frank. A few hours of socializing would be good for him. 

A thud from the parking lot forced them apart from one another, Frank regretfully putting distance between them. Someone was here, and they were going to be caught if they didn’t pull themselves together, and fast. Frank quickly returned to her, lifting her off the tool bench and setting her down on wobbly legs before busying his hands with a pencil and a piece of plywood. She smoothed her skirt, awkwardly wringing her hands as the stranger made their way through the workshop. 

“Back door’s always unlocked for you, sweetheart,” Frank said, pressing a quick peck to her temple. His voice was gravely, a sign that she’d successfully wound him. “Get whatever you need from my place. I’ll see you tonight, okay?” 

“Okay,” she nodded, heart still pounding from both the intimacy with Frank and them almost getting caught together, “Thank you, Frankie.” 

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he said, refocusing on the piece of wood in front of him. She glimpsed a blur of blonde-ish gray hair as she hurried toward the nearest exit.   

“Mr. Castle?” A woman’s voice called out as she circled the same corner Frank had appeared from earlier. “I thought there might be someone else here! Anyway, I was wondering if you had any time to work on the floors in my living room this weekend.” 

She didn’t stick around to hear the rest of their conversation, cursing herself for not leaving the car running when she climbed into the boiling hot driver’s seat. The ice cream was certainly a puddle at this point. She’d never related to ice cream so much. 

x 

Frank’s house was around the corner from the one she shared with her father. It didn’t matter how many times she stayed the night with him – being the only person in the house made her nervous. She often felt like she was taking up space that she didn’t deserve, especially here, amongst Frank’s belongings. She wondered if that was something every young woman went through, or if it was just her. She didn't have a mother to ask, which made the ache of not knowing even worse. 

As she made her way to the pantry, a picture hanging on the fridge caught her eye. It was a much younger Frank, sidled up to a woman who had a hand pressed to his chest. His late wife, presumably. Two young kids sat on either side of them. They both looked so much like Frank that she couldn’t stop her eyes from watering. Frank never talked about his family, and she didn’t ask, though her father had mentioned it to her a few times in passing. They had died, and Frank was “different” now, though she didn’t understand what that meant. 

The picture broke her heart. Who was Frank before he moved here and met her? She didn’t know, but she wanted to. She wanted to pry into his life, opening old wounds so that she could understand how he ended up here, alone except for the fleeting moments he had with her. She wondered if Frank would ever want a family with her, or if the pain of it all was too much. She wondered if she’d be a good mom, or if she’d die young and leave her kids without guidance as they navigated adulthood just like her mom did to her. 

She snapped out of the harrowing thoughts, swallowing thickly and backing away from the refrigerator. Hurrying back to the car, she gulped down air as she backed out of the driveway and made her way home. Mrs. Cross’ hamburger buns would have to be a later problem.  

x 

When she finally walked through the kitchen door, her father was amidst a heated conversation on the telephone, hand resting on his hip in a way that told her he was annoyed. She set the bags on the counter, smiling at his exasperated face. He lifted a cigarette to his mouth, rolling his eyes at whoever was on the other line. 

“It’s Cindy,” he mouthed to her, covering the bottom of the phone with his hand. “Help!” 

She hurried over, putting the phone to her ear. Mrs. Cross – Cindy – was rambling about seven-layer dip.  

“Mrs. Cross, it’s me. Sorry to interrupt,” she said, cutting the older woman off, “I wasn’t able to get hamburger buns. Safeway was out. Do you know anyone that could bring some?” 

Her dad put his hands together in a prayer-like manner, thanking her. She stifled a giggle as Mrs. Cross began rambling again. Her dad took a long pull of his cigarette, shaking his head in vexation. When she finally managed to get off the phone, her father was lighting another, staring through a window at the backyard. 

“She was only on layer three of seven when you walked in,” he pointed out, shaking his head again, “I can’t imagine how long she would’ve kept me if you hadn’t shown up when you did, honey.” 

“Well, I got layers four and five just now. I guess we’ll hear about six and seven this afternoon.” 

He laughed, looking over the piles of groceries on the counter. 

“Cindy is doing way too much with this barbecue,” he grumbled, waving his cigarette through the air. “Did you know she hired gardeners to come by this morning? Gardeners! What’s wrong with our garden?” 

“She’s being nice.” She sent him a pointed look before nudging him toward the groceries. “Now, help me put everything away so that I can start on the first layer before she gets here.” 

Later, when the barbecue had finally begun and it felt like every person she’d ever met was crowding her house and backyard, she wilted against the wall in the kitchen. She’d never made so many finger foods in her life. Everyone else seemed to be having a good time, but she couldn’t remember the last time she sat down. Leave it to Mrs. Cross to suggest a relaxing barbecue and then force her to cater for it. 

Frank, newly showered and bare-chested, arrived a few minutes later. Six bags of hamburger buns swung from his fists as she took in the sight in front of her. She’d nearly kissed him right in front of everyone but settled on thanking him quietly and asking him to put them in the kitchen.  

“Where did you get them?” She asked, shutting the door to the kitchen softly, cheeks flush at the sight of Frank’s bare torso.  

It didn’t matter how many times she’d seen him shirtless. The tiny gasp that always left her lips was involuntary. They were alone for a fleeting moment, and all she could think about was jumping his bones. 

“Safeway had a ton,” he said, eyeing her outfit.  

It was blistering hot, even in the late afternoon, so she’d donned a pair of white shorts and a string bikini top. She didn’t intend on swimming, but she knew it would drive Frank crazy to see her in such little clothing.  

“Safeway said they were out when I stopped by! Right before I came to see you!” She moaned, running her hand over her face. “Ben-Eric is such a liar!” 

“Who?” Frank tilted his head, confusion overtaking his tone. 

Before she could recount her story about infuriating store clerks, her dad jostled into the room, followed by the last person she expected to see standing in her kitchen – her ex-boyfriend, Matthew. 

Time halted for a few moments as she tried to understand the picture in front of her. Her father, who was smiling as he glanced proudly between her and Matt, stood with his hands on his hips. Matt had an arrogant smile on his face, though he was twiddling with his cane enough to tell her he was actually very nervous. Frank, left in the dark about the newest stranger in the room, glanced between her horrified face and Matt’s, trying to gauge why the temperature in the room had just risen a few degrees. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” Matt said, tipping his head in her direction. 

“Sweetheart?” Frank echoed, the surprise in his voice bouncing off the ceiling and quieting the dull roar in her ears as she continued to stare at Matt’s stupidly handsome face. 

The three men watched her, waiting for an explanation, a response, anything. She gaped back at them, wondering what in the fresh hell Matt was playing at, showing up to her dad’s barbecue and calling her sweetheart. The nerve he had was astonishing. Anger muddled her thoughts. How dare he show up in her house?  

She didn’t say any of this, of course. In fact, the only words that came out of her mouth were, “You’re wearing flip-flops.” 

“It’s a pool party, right?” Matt tilted his head, smiling. His hands continued to fiddle with his cane. 

“You’re in my kitchen, wearing flip-flops.” She muttered robotically, fixing her eyes on the wall behind Matt’s head. 

“I hope it’s okay that I invited him,” her dad said, sending her a look that told her she was acting insane. “He mentioned that he’d be in town, and I thought why not, ya know?”  

He finished his statement off with a swift pat on Matt’s back, sending her another pointed glance. She finally blinked, back in her own body and furious. She inhaled, ready to kick and scream at her father, but Frank cut her off before she could say a word. 

“We haven’t met. I’m Frank, the neighbor,” he said gruffly. 

“Matthew,” Matt said, head still tilted in her direction, “the ex-boyfriend.” 

“The ex-boyfriend,” Frank repeated, eyeing Matt closely. 

She knew exactly what Frank was thinking. Matt was another older man that she’d given herself to. Granted, Matt was only about a decade older than she was. It wasn’t as big of an age gap as her and Frank. Still, she could see the cogs whirring in his head as he fully grasped the situation happening in front of him. 

His nostrils flared once, the only sign that Matt’s presence was affecting him, before he nodded and looked at her father, asking if he needed help with grilling. She watched as he made his way across the kitchen, volunteering to take over for her father outside. He sent her a single, pointed glance before softly closing the door behind him, leaving her and Matthew alone for the first time in months. 

“He seems nice,” Matt said, noticeably calmer now that the kitchen had been vacated by Frank. “A little old for you, don’t you think?” 

“Don’t even, Matthew. What are you doing here? You can’t just show up at my house after disappearing last year.” 

Matt scoffed, leaning against the edge of the counter, inching closer to her heaving chest.  

“I was invited. I thought you wanted me here.” 

Her eyebrows shot up. He must be an idiot. He must think she’s an idiot. 

“You thought I’d want you here after you disappeared last year? No calls, no texts, just a scribbled note with the words ‘I’m sorry’ written on it?” 

“I told you I had a big opportunity, sweetheart-” 

“Don’t call me sweetheart.” 

“Don’t act like you’re innocent in this either, sweetheart.” He bared his teeth, emphasizing the pet name. “You wanted out just as much as I did.” 

She huffed, narrowing her eyes at Matt’s towering figure. 

“Don’t put this on me. You knew what you were doing when you took that job in New York. Our relationship was done as soon as you signed that offer letter.” 

“You gave up before I did.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. She couldn’t figure out if he was perturbed or not by this conversation, which made her even more angry. “I’m going to go converse with Frank, the neighbor. Unless,” he paused, running a thumb across her bare torso, “you don’t want me to, for whatever reason?” 

His touch, which had at one time, set her on fire the way Frank’s does now, barely phased her. She was done with Matt the minute he walked out on her. It’s how she ended up moving back home to live with her father, and how she ended up meeting Frank. It was a good thing, ultimately. 

“Do whatever you want, Matt. I’m not your keeper anymore.” 

She gritted her teeth, stepping away from Matt’s touch and heading toward the back yard where the party seemed to be picking up.  

“You never were,” Matt called after her. 

She rolled her eyes, stepping into the sun for the first time in hours. People milled about, separating themselves into groups and eyeing each other as they whispered about the latest gossip. Small towns were notorious for this, but she tried not to let it phase her. As long as her and Frank kept their relationship secret, she could avoid the gossip mill. 

She watched a group of older women take turns glancing towards Frank and her father, who were so busy debating the proper way to grill a hamburger that they probably wouldn’t notice if the women stripped down and went skinny dipping right next to them. She stifled a laugh, relaxing into a chair somewhat isolated from the party, but still amongst the revelry.  

She’d chosen this seat specifically. It had a perfect view of Frank’s bare torso as he stood by the grill, sipping a beer. She suddenly felt a sort of kinship with the group of ogling women. Frank was droolworthy.  And she got to remind him of that every single night. 

A figure entered her periphery, forcing her attention away from Frank’s toned abs. She nearly rolled her eyes and groaned, readying herself to stomp of Matt’s foot, when she realized it was Ben-Eric from the Safeway down the road. 

“Ben-Eric!” She startled, cringing at her inability to filter her thoughts. 

“Who?” He said, sitting down in the closest seat to her. 

“I’m so sorry,” she laughed, “I couldn’t remember your name, and that’s what I called you earlier when you lied to me about the hamburger buns.” 

He laughed along with her, sipping his beer. 

“To be fair, I didn’t know we had more in a different aisle. They sell out so quickly in July.” 

“Sure, Ben-Eric,” she said sarcastically, laughing again at his perplexed expression. 

“You’re half right. It is Benjamin, but I guess you can call me Ben-Eric if that’s what you want,” he said, tilting his head in a way that reminded her how handsome he was. “Most of my friends call me Dex.” 

“Okay, Dex,” she said, grinning again. “Tell me. How much do you know about seven-layer dip?” 

They spent the afternoon people-watching and catching up, though the longer she sat there, the more she wanted to see Frank. It felt like she always wanted to see Frank these days. He’d disappeared earlier after the grill had been cleaned, and she hadn’t seen him since. When the party finally wound down, she realized, thankfully, that Matt was long gone. Ben-Eric left, thanking her dad personally for the party, and then it was just the two of them, standing amongst empty beer cans and deflated balloons. 

“That was exhausting,” her father said, immediately exiting the kitchen in favor of falling asleep to his crossword. She huffed and began clearing the mess. So much for ‘we’re in this together’.  

Not long after she’d begun, a sudden throat being cleared startled her. She turned, seeing Frank for the first time in hours. 

“Frank!” She put a hand to her chest, heart pounding. “I thought you went home!” 

“I did, but I came back because I knew he wouldn’t help you clean up.” He shrugged. 

There was something off about his demeanor. She immediately noticed the way he hesitated to enter the room fully, instead choosing to lean against the doorway. Was it because her dad was snoring in the other room, or for a different reason? 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, shaking her head. 

He shrugged again, refusing to meet her gaze. 

“Frank,” she murmured, “What’s wrong?” 

He finally looked up, staring at her with a hard, unreadable expression that left her even more confused. 

“You didn’t tell me about Matthew,” he finally said, immediately cringing. “Fuck, I don’t know what I’m saying. I sound like a whiny bitch when I say it like that.” 

Her hands, which held a near-empty trash bag, hung limp in front of her. She didn’t realize how much he’d been affected by Matt’s sudden appearance. She’d forgotten about it already. 

“Matthew doesn’t mean anything to me.” She said simply, shrugging. 

“Anymore,” he rasped, looking anywhere but in her direction before finally lowering his head, ashamed. “And that fucking asshole outside. I wanted to fucking strangle him when he made you laugh.” 

She dropped the trash bag, approaching him slowly. He watched her carefully, refusing to let himself touch her. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. 

“Are you jealous, Frankie?” She said, genuinely amused. “Is that why you left?” 

Frank’s nostrils flared. A spark of anger lit his eyes, amusing her even more. 

“You drive me crazy, sweetheart,” he grunted, still refusing to put his hands on her. “Everything about you drives me insane.” 

She pushed her chest against him, looking up at his scowling face. 

“I don’t care about any of them, Frank,” she said, running her hands up his broad torso. “I only care about you. I thought you knew that.” 

He grunted again, this time, angling his head so that their lips were millimeters apart. 

“I do know that,” he murmured through gritted teeth. “Something about you makes me forget how fucking ridiculous being a jealous asshole is.” 

She was thrilled to hear this. She’d been waiting for him to mark his territory from the moment Matt walked in the kitchen earlier. Her father being three feet away hadn’t crossed her mind for a moment, though she was sure Frank would’ve knocked Matt on his ass for touching her if her father was anywhere else in the house. 

“Show me,” she murmured, placing her palms on Frank’s cheeks. “Show me how jealous it makes you.” 

His expression hardened, jaw ticking. He remained incredibly still as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her lips grazed his ever so slightly as she lifted her mouth, begging for him to touch her. 

“You’re mine,” he grumbled, and finally, finally, he touched her.  

His hands tightened around her waist as his lips crashed against hers, pulling her into a salacious kiss worthy of the front-page news. His tongue collided with hers, forcing its way deep into her mouth. She sighed into him, relishing the warmth of his body against hers. 

This felt more right than anything she’d ever felt in her life. Frank, standing in her kitchen, reminding her who she was to him. It may have started as a casual hook-up, but now they were in so deep with one another that it felt like drowning while simultaneously breathing air for the first time. 

“I’m yours, too,” he murmured inbetween kisses, cradling her head between his palms. “Always.” 

“Always,” she repeated, pulling him in for another kiss, unable to remember or care that her father was down the hall and could walk in at any moment.  

She wasn’t even sure he was asleep, but nothing about this night had felt right until now, and she wasn’t going to ruin it just yet. She grasped Frank’s waistline, tugging at his pants. She wanted to be thoroughly wrecked by him, right here, right now. 

Frank, on the other hand, was a much more responsible person than she could ever be. He groaned as he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers for a moment before disconnecting entirely. 

“Frank,” she started, blindly reaching for him. “I need you.” 

“Not here,” he murmured, “Not when he’s down the hall.” 

Conflict warred with desire in his eyes. Even after all this time, Frank couldn’t bring himself to hurt his best friend more than he already had. Every day that they continued their affair, he was damaging his relationship with her father, but he couldn’t stay away from her. She was everything to him, and after losing everything once, he couldn’t help but hold on tightly. 

“Can I come over after I finish up here?” She asked, cheeks still flush with need. 

“Always, baby,” he said, bending down to pick up another piece of trash left by partygoers. He pushed it into the forgotten half-empty trash bag. “You don’t have to ask.” 

She nodded, focusing on the mess around her again. Frank didn’t leave like she thought he would. He stayed and continued to help her clean, which made it even harder for her to stay focused. Finally, when the mess had been contained to a reasonable level, she and Frank walked slowly back to his house. She decided now was a good time as any to bring up the picture on his fridge. 

“Frank, can I ask you something?” She said, casually swinging their intertwined hands. 

“Anything.” 

“What was your wife’s name?”  

She said it barely above a whisper, but Frank heard it loud and clear. His head snapped to hers, confusion and caution clear on his face. His eyes softened at her expression, weary, but curious. 

“I mean-,” she said, immediately hating herself for asking, “You don’t have to tell me. I saw them – your family – on your fridge earlier when I stopped by and I’m curious about them, but you don’t have to tell me anything. I just mean-.” 

“Maria,” he said, interrupting the anxious rant she had begun without realizing it. “Maria was her name. And Lisa and Frank Jr. are my kids.” 

She eyed him nervously, waiting for anger or admonishment for prying into his personal life, but there was none. Frank squeezed her hand, pulling it up to his lips for a soft kiss. 

“Car accident. Almost twenty years ago now.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I miss ‘em every day.” 

“Oh, Frank,” she said, tears welling in her eyes, “That’s awful. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” 

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” he said, pulling her against his side as they continued the short walk. “I should’ve told you about it sooner.” 

“Thank you for telling me,” she whispered, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek before continuing to the home where they had shared so many intimate moments together.  

Standing inside Frank’s house reminded her that it had only been a handful of hours since she’d been here last. The day had melted into a blur of cooking, partying, and Frank, all packed into a 24-hour period. If she was honest with herself, she was exhausted, but she finally had Frank to herself, and she wasn’t going to squander that opportunity. 

As soon as he locked the door, she was on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and jumping into his arms. Her legs wound their way around his body as he lifted her in the air, pulling her fully against his torso. The feeling of his muscles alone was enough to make her moan. He was the hottest thing she’d ever seen, and he was all hers. 

“You knew exactly what you were doing when you showed up without a shirt today,” she said between kisses, hoping Frank could navigate the stairs while she was wrapped around him like a koala. 

“You’re one to talk, sweetheart” he grumbled, taking each step carefully until they made it to the top of the staircase. “Look at this bikini.”  

His bed, which he now considered to be their bed, was still unmade from their intimacy that morning. When he lowered himself, setting her down on her back, she nuzzled into the blankets. They smelled like him. 

“I love this bikini,” he said, eyeing the curve of her breasts beneath the fabric. She’d worn it just for him.  

His hand slowly pushed down into the mattress, feeling its way underneath her until it found the strings tied in a knot against her spine. A swift tug had the strings falling apart, giving way to him. He lowered his head – first to her cheek, nuzzling against her smooth skin, then to her neck, where he peppered kisses all the way down to the top of her shoulder, where he found the other knot holding her bikini together. She quivered with need as his teeth scraped against her racing pulse. He slowly nipped at the material, pulling the end of the knot with his teeth until it too gave way, exposing her breasts in the dim light of his bedroom. 

He huffed in disbelief as he looked over her exposed chest, jaw ticking.  

“He didn’t stand a chance,” he mumbled, eyes crawling up her body until it landed on her flushed cheeks. “Not a fucking chance.” 

“Who didn’t?” She asked, innocently batting her eyes. 

“You know who,” he grunted, jealousy laced in his tone for the second time tonight. “Do you know how badly I wanted to knock Matthew on his ass today for calling you sweetheart? For touching you after I left the kitchen?” 

“I didn’t know you saw that,” she breathed, heat pulsing in her core. Frank rarely got this way with her, but when he did, she was so turned on by it that it hurt. 

“I fucking saw everything,” he grumbled with a hardened expression, “He doesn’t get to touch what’s mine. Ever.”  

“I know, Frankie,” she murmured, running her fingers along the sculpt of his shoulders. 

“Your dad told me he’s a catholic lawyer,” he gritted, “and that the only reason you came home last year was because he broke your heart.”  

“That’s true,” she swallowed. 

Frank lowered his body even more, barely hovering over her. Her hips met his, grinding up against his hardened length through their clothes. Frank leaned forward, lips ghosting over her ear. 

“His loss,” he murmured.  

The wake of his breath sent goosebumps skittering down her spine. She moaned, grinding against him again. Frank’s eyes were so dark that she could barely make out the brown irises that she adored. 

“What about the other one?” She asked, unable to stop taunting him. “The one that sat by me outside and made me laugh.” 

His gaze, which had been slowly raking down her exposed chest, snapped up to meet hers again. His nostrils flared as he processed her question. She blinked hazily at him, waiting for his restraint to meet its limit. His jaw ticked before he finally let out a long, slow breath. 

“Watch it,” he warned in a low voice, though she could see the delight hidden in his eyes. 

“Or what?” She taunted again. 

And finally, after what felt like years and years of waiting, Frank’s restraint finally snapped. He slammed his mouth against hers, immediately swiping his tongue through her mouth. He was relentless with his kisses, giving her barely enough time to breathe between nipping at her jaw and grinding against her. 

She barely realized when her pants were off, only shuddering when his fingers teased her soaked entrance. She let out a soft moan, widening her legs. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that she was distraught with love for the man she shared this secret with. 

“I want on top,” she said, swiftly nudging him on his back as she hovered atop his impressive length. 

At some point in time, Frank had also lost his pants, though she couldn’t pinpoint when that happened. Everything about Frank was overwhelming to her senses. She could get lost in him. She wanted to get lost in him. She wanted to show him how much he meant to her, how much the other men in her life didn’t affect the feelings she held for him. 

Frank squeezed her hips tightly, eyes still dark with desire. When she finally sank onto him, she held her breath, tears pricking at the back of her eyes in both pain and pleasure. Frank, ever the gentleman, would always slowly ease into her, allowing her time to adjust, but she didn’t want that. Tonight, she wanted to remind him how much of her belonged to him. 

She moved her hips slightly, moaning at how deep he was in this position. He had barely moved, breathing slowly with his eyes half lidded. She placed her hands on his chest and began rocking against him, eliciting a groan from his perfect, plump lips. His moans of pleasure spurred her to rock against him harder and faster. Her hips were held in a bruising hold by his large hands, guiding her against him. 

“Ask me to do anything, and I’ll do it,” he grunted, bucking into her and breathing hard as she continued grinding. “Name anything and I’ll get it for you. Anything, baby.” 

She giggled, delighted at his ability to make her feel like the only woman in the world. He took advantage of her distraction, flipping them over so that he could rut into her even harder. Frank rose to his full height, pulling her to the edge of the bed and lifting her hips to meet his in an even deeper position than before. 

She felt like she was on ecstasy, pleasure overriding every part of her body. Frank slammed into her at a relentless rate, grunting every time she squeezed around his thick length.  

“You fit so fucking perfectly underneath me, baby.” 

Slapping sounds echoed through the room, mixed with praise from Frank’s filthy mouth. 

“Did he ever make you feel this good, baby?” 

She arched her back, moaning. 

“Did he worship you the way you deserve?” 

Fire wreaked havoc on her entire body. She was on the brink of exploding. 

“He could beg for forgiveness for the rest of his life and never deserve you, sweetheart. Fuckin’ altar boy.” 

“Fuck,” she whined, nearly squealing as heat overcame every sense, every thought, every breath. Her orgasm crashed through her, pulsing every nerve in her body. She couldn’t remember where she ended, and Frank began. Every part of her was Frank’s, and every part of Frank was hers.  

“That’s it, baby,” Frank cooed, slowing his hips so that he could properly watch her come undone beneath him. “There you go, pretty girl. You’re doing so good.” 

Heart racing, she arched further off the bed, begging for more. Frank met her chest with wet lips, kissing up the valley between her breasts. She mewled when his lips wrapped around her nipple, flicking his tongue over the nub. Tears of pleasure flowed freely down her cheeks, driving Frank into a state of wild delirium. 

He pounded into her, drawing out another orgasm, and another. He left trails of wet kisses along every part of her body, marking his territory with sweet nips at her sensitive areas. 

“Mine,” he murmured after each kiss, reminding himself that she was here, splayed beneath him because she would choose him in every lifetime. 

“Yours,” she breathed, trembling. 

When Frank finished, after she found her pleasure one more time, she laid in a heavy heap, barely grunting when he cleaned her off with a warm towel. The exhaustion of the day had finally caught up to her. Frank lifted the blankets over her wilted figure, kissing her temple before crawling into bed next to her. 

She was barely conscious enough to feel Frank’s arm wrap around her waist and tuck her against his chest, but she breathed easier knowing he was holding her. 

“I love you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. “Always.” 

Sweet, unconscious bliss followed her into the deepest sleep she’d ever been in, though she’d swear later on that she heard Frank tell her he loved her. Somehow, even in sleep, her body knew what she meant to him. She loved him too, more than anything. It would be a few more months before she admitted that to anyone besides him, though. 

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@minervadashwood@messymissy@mylifeispainandiloveit@fightmilk@spikedhe4rt@fictional-hooman@babyslyth@legocity2@quackson03@certifiedhunter@dumb-fawkin-bitch@thatgirljayy@scoliobean@evyiione@day-dreaming-goddess@ginnysculture@ryebreadsworld@laaundromat@niki-is-a-thing@kelp-dreaming@ladymercury8@joalslibrary@pascalispet@feelmyskinonyourskin@splendiferous-bitch@hellskitchenswhore@alexaplayldr @final-sights @cafieeee