gojo used to think he liked everyone. even the pretty popular girls that just used him for help on their homework and the frat idiots who only invited him to parties because he was friends with geto. he was a good person. the kind of guy people went to when they needed something. a gracious genius with a heart of gold.
and then he met you.
annoying attractive you.
stuck in a study group together and forced to watch you twirl your hair around your finger while you leaned over to look at whatever nanami was typing on his laptop. chirping away clueless at his locked jaw, indignation bubbling up as you proudly presented an incorrect fact about digimon, eyes glittering with excitement gojo couldn't resist the urge to squash.
"erm, actually-"
he expected you to look crushed when he systematically explained every single thing wrong with what you just said. but no, you just nodded along, thanking him with a perky chirp that sent a stab of embarrassment through his carefully crafted mask. pushing up his thick glasses with a huff, grumbling a you're welcome he really didn't mean.
you pissed him off.
and he couldn't even pinpoint why.
maybe it was the way you didn't care about being wrong. all those interests you seemingly shared that you couldn't even get your details correct about. or how sweetly you smiled at him no matter how much of a dickhead he was when he mocked you for it.
but the only thing that made him feel remotely better was watching the cracks in your cute facade start to form with each consecutive jab, how the light in your eyes dimmed and your lips started to curl down when you saw him, the way you began to leave study sessions early or sit as far from him in class as you could. excusing yourself from conversations, chewing on your bottom lip whenever gojo opened his mouth.
geto told him to stop when he accidentally knocked your books off the table.
nanami called him an asshole when he pointed out that your notes were kinda sloppy.
he might've dropped it. only showed up to the study group when you weren't there. shut his mouth and stewed in his irrational irritation when you bent over to pick up your glittery pen in some ridiculously short skirt.
but then he had the cruel misfortune to be assigned your partner in a project worth far too much of his grade for him to not give a shit. and you, of course, wouldn't take the fucking hint when he said he'd rather do it by himself than risk you screwing it up.
he couldn't stand you.
the last place on the planet he wanted you to be was in his dorm.
so, uh, how the hell did he end up like this?
your glossy lips wrapped around his throbbing cock, his swollen tip ramming into the back of your throat as he threaded his fingers through your hair, his glasses nearly falling off his face as he fucked your mouth. one hand on his keyboard as he attempted to focus on the work at hand, even though his eyes kept drifting to where you were tucked beneath his desk.
"i-is this all you're good for?" he groaned, gritting his molars as he pulled you by your loose ponytail, tugging you back and forth, nearly whining at the greedy way you were sucking and slurping around him.
you couldn't speak.
but he took your weak moan as a yes anyway, the reverberations rolling through his body as his abs reflexively tightened, itching for a quickly impending release.
fuck. it wasn't fair.
you shouldn't look so pretty like this. so goddamn gorgeous with a mouth full of him and drool leaking from the corner of your mouth, rolling down your chin as you eagerly serviced him.
"is this your part of the project?" he sarcastically mumbled, struggling not to stutter when you were taking him so perfectly. tongue pressing up against his pulsing veins, letting out little gagging sounds when he fucked you faster.
"mm," you whimpered for him, and he was cumming down your throat before he could so much as warn you, thick ropes of it spurting out as he let out a filthy groan of your name.
sure, he could probably finish the project in a few hours. but maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing if it, uh, took a couple days to complete.
"stupid girl," he muttered under his breath, his voice almost cracking as he sucked in ragged gasps.
18+ frank castle x reader
â he's a pounder âê«áȘĘ
Frank presses your legs back hard, folding you nearly in half until your knees frame your ears. The stretch burns sweet in your hips. Heâs heavy over you, chest to chest, forehead locked against yours so every ragged breath you take is shared.
He's buried to the root. Every brutal snap of his hips drives him deeper, the wet slap of skin loud in the quiet room. He doesnât ease up. He keeps pounding, grinding the head of his dick against the softest, deepest place inside you on every thrust until your body jerks and clenches around him. âLook at me,â he grunts, voice rough, eyes locked on yours. Dark, intense, unblinking. âDonât you fucking look away.â
You canât. Not with the way heâs staring into you while he wrecks you. His forehead stays pressed to yours, sweat sliding between your skin. Another hard thrust bottoms him out completely and a low, broken groan rumbles out of him straight into your mouth.
âFuckââ He snarls it against your lips, hips slamming harder, faster, driving you into the mattress with every stroke. The bedframe complains. Your body takes every inch, stretched open and held open, nowhere to go but deeper under him.
He keeps grinding in deep, forehead glued to yours, eyes never leaving yours while he pounds you through itâgrunting, groaning, fucking you like he needs to crawl inside your skin and stay there.
â đđâ your cat canât read the room and trots in anyway because sheâs hungry.
the room smells of sweat, sex and love. you donât know how many times heâs made you come, lost count after the 3rd time. all you can really think about is the weight of his body caging yours, pushing you both deeper into the mattress, the sheets wrap loosely around his legs, yours tight around his waist, locked and refusing to let up.
the sounds of skin slapping echoed the room, rang through your ears loudly, but his pace didnât falter, if anything it got faster then slowed just enough to have you whining in frustration. his fists, slightly bawled, rest on either side of your hips.
âalways feels good when youâre wrapped around my cock, sweetheart,â he murmurs, voice raspy and slightly broken, a small chuckle vibrates against your neck when your hand flies up, grabbing the back of his arm tightly. âthatâs it, hold onto me, i ainât going anywhere and neither are you, babygirl.â
true to his word, he doesnât let you go anywhere, keeps his hard chest practically pinned down against yours, thrusts slow and rhythmic. your nails sink into this skin of his arms deeper each time he slides back in, cock stretching you out perfectly. âjust like that,â you whine, hands slipping from his arms to his sides, nails raking up and down the skin there before making their way back to his arms; where you cling tighter. âlove you.â you murmur softly into his shoulder when he presses his face deeper into the crook of your neck.
âlove you, honey,â he pants, grinding his hips against yours slowly to the point your lips part in a silent moan and the arch of your back has your tits pressing harder to hist chest. an action he welcomes happily because heâs groaning and growling into the small space of your neck, fisting at the sheets when your cunt clenches around his cock. âmy angel, could stay like this forever, so warm, wanna stay buried in you for the rest of my life.â
neither of you hear the slight creaking sound of the door at first, completely absorbed in each other too much to care, too in tune with meeting each others thrusts to feel the subtle chill soaking in and then suddenly when itâs only the soft sounds of both your moans, a loud meow rips through the entire room.
his body stills completely at the sound, slowly lifts his head from your neck, you see his hooded first but you can also see the hint of confusion lingering beneath as he looks down at you. âthe hell?â he mutters hoarsley, turning his head so slow youâd think heâs broken.
sitting completely still in the bedroom doorway is your cat, tail swishing behind her with a slowness that only happens with two things. one, sheâs doing it to spite you both. or two, sheâs hungry and demands all the attention in the world. âyouâve got to be kidding me,â he scoffs, albiet no anger or annoyance behind his words.
your cat stares, almost like she knows what sheâs ruining and does it all over again. meow!
his eyes narrow at the second meow, and his hands finally move from beside your hips to your stomach, dragging them down slowly before sighing in defeat. âokay, sheâs not kidding.â
âno, she isnât.â
âi fed her before we even came in here!â he huffs but makes no effort to move. hell, he hasnât even made a single move to pull out of you either.
âthat was before, and now sheâs hungry again, so go on,â you pause, grinning up at him smugly. âtime to feed your daughter, daddy.â you teased, giggling with a choked gasp at the way his cock twitches inside you. âoh?â
his eyes widen slightly at your seductive tone and shakes his head quickly ânope, no, we arenât doing this. mâgonna go feed her like the royal diva pain demands.â
your giggle doesnât last long, a warm melodic sound turns into a whine when heâs pulling his cock out slowly with a wet pop! your walls flutter around nothing while your eyes, despite being hooded and dazed, followed him. lingered on the firm muscle of his ass when he slipped off the bed, before widening, a shy smile on your face, at the sight of his cock despite seeing it so many times. still hard, angry red, slick with your wetness.
ânothing you havenât seen before, sweetheart,â he catches that look on your face while tugging on a pair of boxers, the fabric rubbing against him causes him to hiss. âiâll be back soon, honey, donât miss me too much.â
by the time he slipped out of the door, leaving you alone, aside from the muttered words coming from him in the kitchen, you slumped back down onto the bed, chest still heaving but you didnât move to run after him. your thighs still tingled, twitched at the reminder of him being inside of you not that long ago.
sighing softly, you turned onto your side, curling up and smiling to yourself into the pillow. the sounds of his muttering and sighs getting louder. and you canât help the laughter that leaves your lips at his sudden panicked shout.
âno! stop! we use the litterbox not the floor, oh my god! sheâs gonna hate me, use the litterbox please!, honey, the litterbox, right there! oh you hate me so much that you want her to hate me too huh?â
plz they argue abt it all the time and one night frank fucks you n afterwards youâre so weak n shaky that he has to carry you to the bathroom. he shoots matt a shit eating grin n taunts âcorrect me if iâm wrong, red, but doesnât she usually get right back on her feet when youâre done with âer?â
or or frank fucks you so hard that literally all you can say are slurs of âyessirâ and frank smirks and pats your cheek and assures matt. âThere you go, man. Wonât be hearinâ any backtalk for a while. Youâre welcome.â
sorry im jumping on this bandwagon hard rn u write him so juicy
GILLI THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVERRRR
he walks into the apartment to you riding matt on the couch n you look up and smile at him so sweet and happy to see him "hi"
frank drops his bag and walks up behind the ouch to grab at your jaw and drop a kiss on your spitty lips. when he pulls away he examines your face, tilting it left n right "you fucking her n she still talking?" pats matt on the shoulder and smirks when the younger man shakes his touch off with a huff. "you losing your touch, red?"
he starts walking down the hall toward the bedroom n calls over his shoulder "come find me when you're done, doll. I'll give you a good fucking."
+ alternatively;;;;; matt against the headboard jerking off to the way frank is drilling into you from behind. frank pulls at your hair with one hand n the other cradles your jaw pointing your wet face at matt. "tell him who fucks you best,, honey. go on, you won't hurt his feelings, ain't that right, red?"
matt scowls but the precum dribbling out gives him away :((((
18+ mdni Frank gets a call from peter while youâre riding his dick n he ends up having to shove his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet </3
âhey, pete, whatâs goinâ on?â
âhave you heard anything aboutââ peter pauses when he hears a muffled whimper over the line âwhat was that?â
âdonât worry about it.â frank gruffs, fingers hitting the back of your throat as he fixes you with a warning look, though the corners of his mouth threaten to twitch up in a smirk. âhave i heard anything about what?â
he listens as peter talks n you still your hips in an attempt to stay quiet but frank covers the speaker and growls âi didnât tell you to stop.â
once he finally hangs up (âI never heardâa that, kid. Better ask your other superhero buddies.â) he grips your chin, fingers hooked on your lower teeth, and bobbles your head. âCanât stay quiet for one minute, can you?â
âN-no, sir,â you garble around his fingers, ânot whenââ
âNot when what?â He rasps, voice lilting higher to movk your whiny tone. âNot when my fat dickâs stuffed in your pussy? Huh?â He bounces his legs, making his cock jostle inside you and cute little grunts escape your throat. âNot when youâre riding me like a bat outta hell?â
Frank Castle who asks âwheres my cock?â as heâs fucking you cause he wants to hear you mewl out an embarrassed âmy assââŠ.
stared at this for a solid five minutes in pure awe
"nah don't get shy on me now, sweetheart," murmured against your ear, he leans over you big strong body covering every inch of you and his cock warm and snug inside you. "seen every inch of you. tasted every inch." he chuckles so meanly when you whine and hide your face, "don't hide," he warns, smug n amused, "can't hide the way your little ass is squeezing' me, honey. you feel me in there?" and there's no way you wouldn't, not when he's so fuckin' big and you're still so new to it, to having him fill you up back there all the way to the brim. you nod, whimpering n biting at his forearm drooling all over him. his hips pull back then back in drawing a mewl out of you. "where, baby? tell me."
"i-inside me," you're so quiet and embarrassed it's fucking precious, but he did always love corrupting his sweet girl.
"you know that's not what i want."
you whimper again biting harder into his arm when he slides all the way in again. his balls tickle bump against your clit oh so sweetly and you feel the heat of embarrassment and desire burn all the way from your toes to the top of your head. "my ass," you cry, bucking up against him, "my ass, daddy. feel so good, so full."
wait i just stumbled on ur blog and omg frank and peter fighting over fucking you kansoebjels lowk perfect for cucking cause if frank pisses peter off too much he can just web him and make him watchđ„č
is this anything
THIS IS EVERYTHING WAIT
like frank had been talking soo crazy to peter and just bickering with him like always and he really wasnât trying to hear it tonight!!
you were sitting your bed in between both of them but sitting more closely to peter with your leg draped over his, peppering him with kisses all over his neck and just loving on him, tugging on his boxers and maybe the older man was just feeling a bit jealous.. mumbling nd grumbling about you being needy and got one more sly comment out his mouth about peter not having as much experience as he does before you heard a âthwpâ, and franks hands were stuck to the headboard.. organic web stretched out on the wood and binding franks hands to it and all he can do is look at the restraints confused, âwhat the fuâkid get these off me.â and heâs tugging on them so harshly to get out but it wonât budge no matter how much he pulls :((
even worse that youâre giggling while the older man makes such a fuss, he kinda deserved it anyway.
and he just has to watch as peter puts you in missionary, fucking you so nice and deep with your legs on his shouldersâif peter hadnât webbed him up could be kissing and teasing your tits like he usually does, cooing at you while the younger man bullies his cock into your tight hole. frank watching as peter pulls a whine out of you when he makes you cum again, hearing him soothe you with a â yeah you like that huh.. you gonna tell frank how good you feel?â, and seeing peter smile in such a petty way, the older man groaning in annoyance when you nod all teary eyed, seeing your pussy all sloppy and puffy :(( just wishing he could lick you up.. he even has to watch as peter puts you in full nelson and your tits are just bouncing in his face and heâs forced to see his sweet girl moan and whine in front of him!
and heâs so painfully hard too, if only he didnât run his mouth đ
‷ frank doesn't mind sharing with you peter, after all, seems like your body wants him just as much. (18+ & slight bnd spoilers)
frankâs voice cut through the dim bedroom like a command, low and rough as he stood behind you, one hand gripping your hip to keep you spread open on the edge of the bed. âfuck look at that shit, kid. sheâs already dripping for you.â his words were a dark chuckle, a challenge wrapped in a promise, his fingers tightening on your thigh with possessiveness.
a heat crept up your cheeks, flooding straight down to your core. the conversation between frank and peter was like a bomb, sparking and crackling in the air, making your skin tingle with anticipation. it was no secret you had a little infatuation with peter, after all, with him staying with you and frank, youâd gotten to know him better. frank being frank, wasnât clueless to your new-found obsession, in fact, he wholeheartedly welcomed it.
the bulge in peterâs pants showed he didnât mind either.
your thighs trembled where frank held them apart, the cool air of the room brushing over your slick folds, making the wetness there feel even more obvious. you could smell your own arousal, sweet and musky, mixing with the faint scent of gunpowder from frank and the clean soap on peterâs skin. the scents mixed together, creating an intoxicating scent that made your head spin.
peter stepped closer, eyes locked between your legs, his breath already coming faster. âoh wowâ thatâs all for me?â his voice was shaky, filled with anticipation and a hint of nervousness. his hands were warm as they slid up your calves, a little shaky but determined. the sight of him on his knees before you sent a thrill through your body, want pooling tight in your belly.
frankâs fingers tightened on your thigh, the heat of his touch searing through the thin fabric of your panties. âdonât just stand there like a pussy, you gotta eat her, you understand?â his voice was a rough command, the words rolling off his tongue with a raw, desirable tone. âget on your knees, kid. taste what sheâs been saving for you.â
a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine, your heart pounding in your chest, frank was pushing peter to touch you, to taste you. the thought sent a rush of heat straight to your core, your pussy clenching in response.
peter dropped to his knees without another word, his hands sliding up your body. his touch was soft against your skin, filled with an eagerness that made your breath hitch. the first brush of his tongue was purposeful, flat and wet as it dragged from your entrance up to your clit. you gasped at the wet heat of it, the slick sound filling the quiet room and echoing in your ears. your hips twitched forward on instinct, seeking more of that pleasurable contact.
âfuck, she tastes good, doesnât she?â frankâs voice was thick with encouragement, a low growl that sent another wave of heat flooded through you. he reached down and spread your lips wider with two thick fingers, exposing you completely to peterâs eager mouth. âlick her proper. suck on that clit like you mean it.â
his words were an order, a mission that sent a thrill of excitement racing through your veins. you swallowed hard, heat tightening in your belly as you waited for what would come next.
peterâs groan vibrated against your sensitive bud, the sound shaking through your body and lighting your senses. he dove in deeper, his tongue pushing past your slick folds to explore the depths of your cunt. the sensation was addicting, his tongue exploring your wetness before circling back up to suck your swollen clit between his lips. the wet, nasty sounds of his mouth working you over filled the room, slurping and sucking, the soft scrape of his teeth against your sensitive flesh when his eagerness got the better of him. your hands clenched the sheets beneath you, knuckles white as your thighs shook around his head, the pleasure building fast and hot within you.
every stroke of his tongue was shocking, each flick and lap at your juices sending vibrations of pleasure rushing through you. his chin glistened with your juices, evidence of his want. frankâs hand remained firm on your hip, holding you open for peterâs eager mouth. his other hand pressed down on the back of peterâs head, guiding him, encouraging him.
âthatâs it,â frank growled from behind you, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. âmake her moan for you. sheâs been wet thinking about this cock of yours for weeks.â
peter pulled back just enough to draw in a ragged breath, his lips shiny with your slick. âsheâs so fucking wet ... i canât stop.â his words were muffled as he dove back in, two fingers sliding into your tight heat while his tongue worked your clit in fast, messy, little circles. the stretch of his fingers inside you burned sweetly, his knuckles brushing against that spot inside that made stars explode behind your closed eyelids. you whimpered, the scent thickening in the air, the taste of your own arousal on his tongue when he moaned again.
frankâs body towered behind you, a force that sent a throb of need through you. his hard cock pressed against your lower back through his jeans, a reminder that he was there, watching every second, taking in the sight of peter between your thighs.
your orgasm hit sudden and sharp, walls pulsing around peterâs fingers as you cried out. your hips ground down on his face, seeking more of the addicting pleasure he provided. he didnât stop, licking you through it, drinking every drop until you were shaking and oversensitive. frank finally pulled him back by the hair, his voice rough with want. âgood boy. now fuck her. sheâs ready.â
peter rose from his position between your thighs, his body trembling. his hands, slick with your juices, fumbled clumsily with the button of his pants. with a swift, impatient shove, he pushed the fabric down, revealing his cock, thick and flushed, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip like a promise of what was to come.
he lined himself up at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your sensitive hole, sending a wave of pleasure through you. then, with some smooth, desperate thrusts, he buried himself deep inside you. the sudden fullness forced a loud moan from your lips, the wet slide of him inside your soaked pussy both nasty and perfect.
from behind, frankâs hand wrapped around your throat, not choking but holding you steady as peter began to move. his thrusts were hard and eager, each one highlighted by the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room. each stroke dragged over that sensitive spot inside you, your juices coating his shaft and trickling down your thighs. you could hear frankâs breathing grow ragged behind you, feel the heat radiating from his body, and smell the intoxicating mix of sweat and pleasure.
peterâs voice, rough and husky, broke through the pleasure that had drowned you. his words, raw and real, spilled out between grunts that echoed in the room. âso tight ...â he groaned, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against your skin. âfuck, you feel so good around me.â
his hands, gripped your hips tighter, as he adjusted his angle, driving deeper into you with a force that made you gasp. the sensation was overwhelming, the lovely stretch of him inside you sending sparks of pleasure radiating through your body.
your orgasm was building fast, a wave of pleasure threatening to crash over you. it was a sensation so intense it stole your breath away, leaving you stumbling on the edge of heaven.
and then it hit, the wave crashed over you, tearing a broken sob from your throat as pleasure coursed through every part of your body. your inner walls clenched around him in response, milking him as he groaned out his own release. his hips stuttered against yours, his movements becoming frantic as he spilled hot and thick inside you. the sensation of him coming undone within you was mesmerizing, proof to the raw passion that had overtaken you both.
his breaths came out in ragged pants against your skin, his body trembling with the aftermath of his climax. his fingers dug into your flesh as he held onto you, grounding himself in the reality of the moment.
the room was filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, the ragged breaths, the soft moans, and the whispered words of satisfaction.
frankâs grip on your throat loosened, but his voice remained commanding. âclean her up, kid. use that mouth again.â peter dropped back down without hesitation, his tongue lapping at the mess heâd made. the sensation of him tasting his own cum mixed with your release sent one last shudder through you. you were left weak and panting, the room heavy with the echo of every filthy sound.
frankâs low laugh rumbled against your ear. âtold you sheâd be dripping for you.â
⥠enjoyed reading? if you'd like to support my writing, my ko-fi is linked in my pinned!
this is bringing me back to my first ever days on tumblr with the marvel smut hehe! although, this is my first time ever writing spiderman or frank castle so feedback is always appreciated! i NEEDED frank to take his pants off during the movie, just once, please!!
à±šà±ż âș thinking about being hiked up on all fours, face down and ass up on frankâs makeshift mattress. the glow of the light bub swinging above you catching a perfect glimpse of the swell of your ass that swallowed up a cute pink thong with the glittery letters âjuicyâ on it. spreading your checks behind you with his large hand, frank moved your thong to the side careful to not rip it since you loved it oh so much. trying to see what he was doing you tilted your head backwards toward him. âah ah. donât worry âbout whatâs going on back here doll, focus on petey will yaâ?â bringing your gaze back to peter, he was sprawled out in front of you, cock standing to attention and waiting for the warmth of your wet mouth. tip a beating red with beads of precum leaking out of his cute slit.
đ sevâs comments âi saw others back writing for frankie and had to share my thoughts. this may become a frank blog now ⊠(kidding!) and when tf did tom holland get this fine?
frankâs rough and and calloused hands grip your hips so tight heâs probably leaving little red marks, pulling you flush against him. "missed this," he growls, his voice a low rumble against your throat. he hasnât shaved in two days so his stubble scrape your skin as he mouths a trail up to your ear. "missed you."
oh you know peter's in the next room, probably hunched over his laptop, but frank doesn't seem to give a fuck or maybe he does. his fingers work their way under your shirt, tracing the waistband of your jeans before popping the button open.
"frank," you breathe out, a half-hearted protest. "peter's..."
"then you better be quiet, baby," he murmurs, nipping at your earlobe. "you don't want him to hear you, do you?"
he doesn't wait for an answer, just walks you backward into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. his shirt is off in one fluid motion, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the scattered scars you've traced with your tongue a hundred times. he strips you until youâre fully naked, his hands knowing every curve of your body.
he pushes you onto the bed, following you down. his mouth is on yours, hungry and so demanding, one hand pinning your wrists above your head while the other traces the line of your thigh, higher and higher until his fingers find your pussy, wet and ready.
"soaked already," he grunts against your lips. "all this for me?" his thumb circles your clit, a deliberate torture that has your hips bucking up to meet his hand. "or you thinking about our guest in the other room?"
you shake your head, but a whimper escapes your lips as he slides two fingers inside you, curling them just right. he works you open, scissoring his fingers, stretching you, preparing you for what's to come. his mouth finds your nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive peak before soothing it with his tongue.
"frank, please," you gasp, arching into his touch.
"please what, baby? use your words."
you can't form a coherent response as he withdraws his fingers, positioning himself between your legs. he runs the head of his cock through your folds, teasing, coating himself in your arousal before pressing against your entrance.
he pushes in slowly, letting you feel every thick inch as he stretches you open. the burn is a mix of pleasure and pain as he fills you completely. when he's fully seated, he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust before pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in. you can't help the loud moan that escapes your lips. frank immediately covers your mouth with his hand, his eyes dark with warning.
"shhh," he commands, his hips beginning to move in a steady rhythm. "what did i tell you about being quiet?"
but you really can't help itâevery thrust draws another sound from your throat, muffled by his palm. when a particularly loud whimper escapes, frank's eyes narrow. "dirty girl," he grunts, pushing your head into the pillow with his other hand. "getting off on the thought of peter hearing us, aren't you? you want him to know what we're doing in here?"
you shake your head, but your body betrays you, clenching around him at his words. frank chuckles darkly. "liar. should we invite him next time? let him watch how you fall apart when i'm inside you? maybe that's what you really want."
his words send a fresh wave of arousal through you, and despite yourself, you moan louder against his hand. he adjusts his angle, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, and you see stars behind your closed eyes. the sounds of skin against skin fill the room, mixed with your muffled cries and frank's grunts. just as you're reaching your peak, a knock sounds at the bedroom door.
"heyâeverything okay in there?" peter's voice calls through the wood. "i heard... noises."
frank doesn't stop, if anything, his hips snap harder. heâs smirking down at you as he whispers, "answer him. be a good girl and tell your friend you're fine."
you try, you really do. you attempt to form the words but all that comes out is a muffled, high-pitched keen as he grinds his hips, the coarse hair at his base rubbing against your sensitive clit. the sound is pathetic and utterly betraying.
frank's smile is sharp against your skin. he chuckles, a sound that vibrates through his chest and into yours. "yeah, he's not buying that.â he shifts his weight, grabbing your thigh and hitching it higher on his hip, changing the angle. the new position has him impossibly deeper, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust.
"one more chance," frank says, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. he leans down, his lips brushing your ear. "or i'll open the door myself and show him exactly why you can't speak right now."
"we're fine!" you manage to call out.
frank stills for a fraction of a second, a mocking chuckle rumbling in his chest as he feels your walls pulse around him. he pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, his gaze amused. "oh, you liked that, didn't you?" he murmurs, his voice low. "almost got caught. got your little pussy all tight around me."
there's a beat of silence from the other side of the door.
"oh. okay," peter says, his voice suddenly little awkward. "sorry to bother you."
you hear his footsteps retreat, the floorboards creaking as he walks away down the hall. the moment he's gone, frank's smirk widens. "so responsive," he growls, his hips starting to move again, slower this time, more deliberate. "getting off on almost getting caught. what a dirty girl you are."
he picks up the pace again, his thrusts becoming harder. frank's hand moves from your hip to your clit, his fingers rubbing tight circles, pushing you closer to the edge.
"that's it, baby," he growls, his voice strained with effort. "let go."
your body arches, a silent scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you. your walls clamp down around him, a rhythmic pulsing that you can't control. your body shakes, waves of pleasure so intense they border on pain.
"fuck," frank groans, feeling you spasm around him. he buries his face in your neck, his own rhythm becoming erratic, his thrusts shallow and fast. with a guttural groan, he follows you over the edge, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you. he collapses on top of you, his heavy weight pinning you to the mattress, both of you panting and slick with sweat.
"next time," frank murmurs against your skin after a moment. "we invite him to watch or to join us."
olderbf!frank who is an avid sidewalk rule follower. He is always on the outside, guiding you or holding your hand, making sure you're out of harm's way.
olderbf!frank is the type to tie your shoes for you, hearing the soft clinks of shoelaces on the pavement, stopping in his tracks to bend down on the dirty floor and tapping your leg when heâs done. Even plants a little kiss on your head for good measure before walking again.
olderbf!frank is always near you. Youâre always in his line of sight, and if he canât see you or youâre off on your own, your location is pulled up on his phone and his check-ins are hourly. He doesnât care what youâre doing, just that youâre safe. The world is a scary place, and heâll be dammned if he let anything hurt you.Â
olderbf!frank who brings you gifts or things that you like with a grunt. Sure, he got you your favourite breakfast, but he went on a walk for himself, and it happened to be right there. He never makes a big deal out of anything; itâs just what you deserve.Â
olderbf!frank who never raises his voice at you. Heâs an angry man, and he has a right to be, but with you, heâs always soft, gentle. Heâll listen to your frustrations and rants about him or the world and never raise his voice.Â
olderbf!frank, who is always touching you with his hands on you, on the couch, your feet in his lap as his hands rub soft circles into your legs absentmindedly as he watches whatever is on the TV.Â
olderbf!frank who always does the household chores for you: dishes, cooking, cleaning. You name it, and he does it. Breakfast in bed at least once a week, and the fridge is always stocked with your favorites because he's an attentive man.Â
olderbf!frank who strictly calls you sweetheart, honey, my girl. The sweetheart started as a joke, back before you guys were dating. It pissed you off the way he said it so condescending but over time, over all the coffee and late-night calls, it became serious, sincere; now it was all he'd ever call you.
olderbf!frank who is very secretive about you. Sure, he mentions you to a select few, but his number one priority was keeping you safe from the dangers he knew were out there.
olderbf!frank, who takes your heels off after date night, after warning you they hurt. He doesn't say I told you so, just undoes the clasp, slipping off the expensive heels from your feet, massaging them for you.
olderbf!frank who loves to get you tipsy, giving you sips of his scotch while you guys lounge around, loving the way you get needy, sucking his neck, leaving a trail of hickeys in your wake. The way you tug his hair while his hands explore your body, as he groans into you.
frank âcoachingâ peter on how to fuck you better, commenting on every little thing cos he swears he knows your body better than him.. having you all splayed on your back with frankies dick in your mouth, his hand having a gentle grip around your throat as you gurgle on his lengthâand peter is in between your legs rubbing your achey little clit so sweetly, bullying his cock deeper into you until a ring of arousal sticks to the base of his cock when he pulls out đ”âđ«đ”âđ« hearing both of them actively get in an argument as theyâre inside you because peter swears he doesnât need franks help !!
frank castle and his sweet girl ( SPOILERS FOR BND !!!! )
The hospital room was too quiet.
That was the first thing Frank noticed when he pushed through the door, shoulders still tense from the fight, from the chaos, from watching that kid take a bullet meant for Jean. The second thing he noticed was you.
You were standing by Peter's bed, one hand hovering near his, like you were afraid to touch him, afraid he might shatter. Your back was to Frank, shoulders curved in on themselves, and even from across the room he could see the tremor running through your frame. The quietest little shake, like a leaf in a storm.
Frank closed the door behind him with a soft click. His boots were heavy against the linoleum, and he watched you flinch at the sound. Still didn't turn around. That wasn't like you. Usually, you met his eyes as soon as he walked into a room.
"Hey." Frank said quietly, crossing the room until he was close enough to see your face. And that was when his chest tightened, a familiar ache that had nothing to do with the bruises he'd collected tonight.
You were crying.
Not the way most people cried, not with heaving sobs or wailing. You were crying the way someone who'd learned early that noise meant danger. All silent, hitched little breaths. Tears streaming down your cheeks in steady rivers, your jaw clenched so tight he could see the muscle jumping. Your lower lip was trembling, bitten raw, like you were trying to hold it all in and failing miserably.
"Hey," Frank said again, softer this time. His voice dropped an octave, that particular tone he only ever used with you. The one that still surprised him sometimes, how easily it came out. "C'mere, sweetheart."
You shook your head, a tiny, jerky motion. Your eyes were fixed on Peter's sleeping face, at the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the hospital blankets. Jean had done her work, kept him stable, kept his heart beating. The doctors said he was going to be fine. But you were still looking at him like he might disappear at any moment.
Frank understood. God, did he understand.
"Sweet girl.." he murmured, warningly, and the endearment slipped out before he could stop it. He'd started calling you that a few weeks ago, when he'd found you sleeping on a park bench in the rain, drenched to the bone and shivering. He'd scooped you up like you weighed nothing, carried you back to his place, tucked you into bed. Called you "sweet girl" without thinking, and you'd looked at him with those big, watery eyes and something in his chest had cracked wide open.
You'd never asked him to stop.
"You're gonna get tired, standing there like that," Frank said gently. He reached out, not to grab you, just to let his fingers brush against your elbow. "C'mon. Sit with me."
You finally looked at him then, and Frank's heart lurched at the sight of you. Your face was blotchy and tear-streaked, your eyes rimmed red, your nose running. You looked like a mess. You looked like a kid. You looked like his kid.
You looked at him for a long moment, and then you folded. You walked right into him, and Frank caught you automatically, his arms coming up to wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. You buried your face in his jacket, and he felt the wetness of your tears soak through the fabric as your shoulders started shaking again.
"Shh, shh, I got you," Frank rumbled, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head, cradling you the way he might cradle a small, frightened animal. "I got you, sweetheart. You're okay."
He guided you over to the armchair in the corner, sitting down heavily, and then he pulled you with him, settling you between his spread legs, standing in the V of them. This was the only way he could really meet your eyes at eye level, and right now, he needed to see you.
But you weren't letting him, keeping your gaze fixed on the floor, lips parting to let out those wet, sad sounds.
"C'mon," he murmured, shifting in the armchair, his hands coming up to cup your face. "Look at me, sweetheart. C'mon, now."
"You're alright," Frank said again, looking up at you, his thumbs immediately moving to wipe away the tears tracking down your cheeks. His palms were so big against your face, so warm, and you leaned into the touch like a flower turning toward the sun. "I got ya. Just breathe f'me, baby. Nice and slow."
You shook your head, a soft, broken little sound escaping your throat. It wasn't a word, just a whimper, high and wounded. Your hands came up to grip his wrists, not to push him away, just to hold on.
"Hey, hey," Frank cooed, his voice dropping even lower, going syrupy sweet. He leaned forward slightly, bringing his face closer to yours. "Look at me, sweet girl. There you go."
Your eyes met his, and he watched fresh tears spill over, watched your lashes cling together in wet spikes. Your nose was running, and you sniffled miserably, a tiny, pathetic sound.
Frank's thumbs kept moving, wiping away the tears as fast as they fell. He was relentless about it, gentle but persistent, wanting you to know he was here, he wasn't going anywhere.
"Awh, sweet girl," he cooed, and the sound was so soft, so tender, it was almost unrecognizable as his voice. "Nah, don't cry. Don't cry, baby, c'mon. Look'a him, he's okay. He's a hell of a tough nut to crack."
You made another sound, wet and incomprehensible, and Frank's heart broke a little more. He'd watched you face down armed men without flinching. He'd watched you take a beating and give it right back. He'd watched you be so angry, so bitter, so full of that burning hatred for a world that had failed you so completely.
But this? Seeing you fall apart over Peter, someone you barely knew, a someone who'd taken a bullet for someone else? This was something else entirely. This was the softness you tried so hard to hide, the gentleness that snuck out when you thought no one was looking.
"He's young, sweetheart, jus' like you." Frank reassured you. "He's gonna bounce back. You know how kids are. You've got that rubber band thing goin' on. Bounce back from anything."
You let out a watery laugh, just a huff of air, and Frank felt something loosen in his chest.
"You're alright. You gonna be okay."
You shook your head, a frantic little motion, and Frank felt your breath hitch against his palms.
"It is gonna be okay," he insisted, and he was surprised by how steady his voice sounded. By how gentle. By how much he sounded like the father he'd never gotten to be, the father he'd thought he'd buried along with his family. "He's gonna be fine, sweetheart. Jean said so, didn't she? Said he's gonna wake up. Said he's gonna be okay."
Your hands tightened on his wrists, and you made another sound, trying to speak, but it came out garbled and wet. Frank shushed you gently, his thumb pressing against your cheekbone, wiping away another tear.
"I know." he murmured, and he did know. He knew what it was like to watch someone go down. He knew the terror of it, the way it hollowed you out and left you nothing but a shell of adrenaline and panic. He knew what it was like to look at a person you cared about and see blood, see damage, see everything you couldn't fix. "I know, baby. I know it's scary."
Your breath hitched again, and Frank felt tears, warm and wet, slide down his hand.
"Hey," he said, tilting your face up further, making you meet his eyes. "Hey, look at me. Spidey's tough, yeah? And you and me.. we're right here. We're not goin' anywhere."
Your bottom lip wobbled dangerously, and Frank felt his heart crack along a fault line he'd thought was sealed shut.
"Can y'use y'words f'me?" he asked, his voice dropping even softer. "Can y'tell me what's goin' on in that head of yours?"
You blinked, and more tears spilled over, tracking down over his thumbs. He caught them both, his hands so gentle on your face, so careful.
"He- he saved her-" you managed, your voice thick and wet. "He jumped in front f'her, Frank. He didn' evenâhe didn' think- and- and-"
"It should've been-" You choked on the leters, swallowed, tried again. "It should've been me. I was- I was closer, I could've-"
"Don't." Frank said, and his voice was sharper than he'd intended, but he couldn'tâhe wouldn'tâlet you go down that road. "Don't you dare, sweetheart. Don't you dare think that."
Your eyes widened, and Frank softened immediately, his thumbs moving to stroke the apples of your cheeks.
"Listen to me," he said, his voice rough but gentle. "Listen to me, okay? That kid, he made a choice. A stupid choice, a reckless choice, but it was his choice. You don't get to take that from him, 'kay? You don't get to wish it was you instead, because then where would I be? Huh? What would I do with myself if you were the one in that bed?"
Your breath stuttered, and Frank felt the tears start up again, fresh and hot against his palms.
"I can't-" You broke off, swallowed hard. "I can't lose anyone else, Frank. IÂ can't."
And there it was.
The real reason you were crying like a little girl lost in a mall.
"C'mon baby, look at that," Frank murmured, tilting his head to look at Peter. "He's got good color. Healthy kid. Probably eats like a horse. You see that? You see how steady he's breathin'?"
You turned your head slightly, just enough to look at Peter, and Frank felt you relax a fraction. Just a tiny bit of tension leaving your shoulders.
"That's it," Frank encouraged, his thumbs stroking over your cheekbones. "That's my girl. Just breathe for me, nice and slow. In⊠and out. That's it."
You sniffled, and Frank reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a crumpled handkerchief. He pressed it into your palm, and you clutched it like a lifeline.
"He almost died," you finally got out, your voice wrecked, as you tried to wipe at the mess that was your face. "Frank, he almost-"
"Shh, shh, I know," Frank soothed, cutting you off gently. "I know, sweetheart. But he didn't. He's right there, see? He's okay. Jean made sure he was okay. And he's got you and me watchin' over him. He's in good hands."
You hiccuped, a soft, wet sound, and Frank's heart clenched.
"Such a good heart you got, baby," he murmured, almost to himself. "So good. You try so hard to hide it, but I see it. I see every bit of it."
You made a sound, something between a laugh and a sob, and you shook your head.
"Don't you shake your head at me, you little brat." he said, his voice still impossibly soft. "I know what I see. I see a girl who's been through hell and back and still worries about people she barely knows. I see someone so strong she doesn't even know it. I see my sweet girl."
Your lower lip trembled, and Frank caught it with his thumb, smoothing over the abused skin.
"You're alright," he said again, like a promise. "We're both alright. And that kid is gonna be fine, and then he's gonna drive us both crazy with all that chatter, and you're gonna be annoyed, and I'm gonna be annoyed, and it's gonna be great. You hear me?"
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, and Frank felt like he'd won a war.
"There she is," he breathed. "There's my girl."
You leaned forward, your forehead dropping to rest against his, and Frank closed his eyes. He let himself have this moment, this quiet, soft, precious thing. Your breath fanning across his face, your tears still wet against his thumbs, your small hands still clutching his wrists.
"I got you," he murmured one more time, a vow, a promise, everything he was. "I got you, sweet girl. I'll always got you."
faux sympathy during sex with frank is like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. the two things are good on their own, but work so fucking well together.
he had been pounding into you for who knows how long. pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. if he could, he'd keep going until the sun came up. but he was older. not in his prime anymore. combine that with an aching back and he's ready to tap out after the fifth or six time. but you're barely getting started.
you wanna keep going, baby? that's fine with me. but you gotta get on top, then.
you whined but complied anyway. you were what most would call a pillow princess. frank rarely, if ever, let you get on top. not because he didn't like it, but he just preferred taking care of you. however, on nights like tonight, when you're sex drive is still high, he allows himself to push aside his pride and let you take control for a bit.
your thighs were beginning to burn. truthfully, you weren't sure how much longer you could keep this up. you pawed at his chest, a soft whimper getting dragged out of you when his tip hit the right spot.
"frankie... please," you mumble, tears threatening to spill over.
"aww, what is it, baby? thought you wanted this? but if you don't..." he shifts, acting as if he's about to pull out.
"no! i do, i do!" you exclaim, sinking onto him even deeper. a low groan slips from his lips. goddammit, you're just sucking him in. "but 'm tired. i need your help."
frank clicks his tongue. "oh, baby's tired, huh? well, you said you could do this all by yourself. my big girl can take care of herself, isn't that right?"
you nodded, hurrying up your pace. he rests his hands on your waist, helping to guide you up and down. he just can't help himself. the man takes pleasure in helping out his girl.
"there ya go, baby. knew that you could do it. just needed daddy's help, huh?" he teases.
he thrusts into you, with you matching his pace as you grind down. once, twice, until you both come simultaneously. you lean forward, eyes already closing shut. you feel so full of his come that it warms you from the inside out.
"yeah, go to sleep, sweetheart. daddy's gotchu now," he whispers into your hairline, kissing you gently.
frank may have faux sympathy in bed, but his love for you is universal.
You and Caleb are accidentally hurled two years into the future, straight into his apartment. Trapped in a closet, youâre forced to watch your future selves fuck like theyâve been starving for each other.
The art that inspired this fic: https://x.com/i/status/2077008975359525093
Go follow the artist @Evil_fishie on X
Cw: Smut. Oral. P in V. Dirty talk. đMDNI đ
Xavier's part here Sylus Part here Zayne Party here
The heat at Grandma's house during peak summer was its own particular brand of suffering. It wasn't the same as the sharp dry heat of the city, this was heavy and wet and it made the air taste like cut grass and warm concrete. By ten in the morning you'd already sweated through your first shirt. By noon you'd given up on doing anything productive.
Which was how you and Caleb ended up in the kitchen at two in the afternoon, arguing about stupid stuff, because there was nothing else to do.
"We're out of green onions," he announced with his head inside the fridge. "And ginger. Grandma said we have to buy soy sauce and it has to be the right brand."
"Which brand?"
He turned around with an expression that said he had absolutely no idea.
"Great," you said. "Really helpful."
"She showed me once. It has a red label. Or maybe yellow." He pulled out a tote bag from the cabinet and dropped it on the counter in your direction. "We'll figure it out when we're there."
"The market is a fifteen minute walk in this heat."
"Then we should leave now."
"Calebâ"
He was already heading for the door. "Come on."
You grabbed the bag and your sunglasses and followed him out into the heat, which hit you like a wall the second you stepped off the porch.
The neighborhood was quiet on summer afternoons, everyone wanted to be inside with their fans on. You walked beside Caleb through streets you'd both known since childhood, past the park, past the corner ice cream store with the faded awning, past Mrs. Yuen's house with the wind chimes that had been making the same sound for fifteen years.
He was telling you about an incident with a new recruit that had happened at a training exercise last month and you were laughing.
"Did he get hurt?" you managed.
"Bruised his ego more than anything." Caleb pushed your sunglasses up. "Poor guy spent the rest of the session pretending it hadn't happened."
The market was cool and smelled like the same brand of air freshener they'd been using since you were ten. You grabbed a basket and split off toward the vegetables while Caleb wandered in the direction of the snack aisle, which âyou'd learned over years of shared grocery runsâ meant you were going to spend the next several minutes complaining about his choices.
You found the green onions. Found the ginger. Turned the corner into the snack aisle and found Caleb standing in front of the chips with two bags in his hands, deliberating.
"We don't need chips," you said.
"Yes we do."
"We have food at home."
"Chips are not food, chips are a separate category." He held them both up. "Salt and vinegar or barbecue."
"Neither. We're here for dinner ingredients."
"And chips." He put the barbecue in the basket.
You took it out. He put it back in.
"Caleb."
"It's for the walk home. You'll want some on the walk home."
"You are soâ" You stopped, pointed at his chest. "Fine. One bag. And you're carrying it."
He was already reaching for a second one.
"One bag."
"Salt and vinegar for you, barbecue for me. That's technically one bag each which isâ"
"That's two bags."
"One per person."
You let him keep both bags because the alternative was standing in the snack aisle for another five minutes.
The soy sauce took longer. You found the section, found approximately ten different brands, and stood there for a moment in silence.
"Red label or yellow?" you said.
"I said I wasn't sure."
"You said you'd seen it."
"I'd seen it, I didn't memorize it."
"Caleb, if we get the wrong oneâ"
He picked one up, turned it over, put it back. Picked up another. "This one looks right."
He put it in the basket and you picked up a different one, compared the labels side by side, and put his back and kept yours.
He switched them back the moment you turned away.
------
You were outside, bag on Caleb's shoulder, chips already open when your hunter's watch went off.
The sound cut straight through everything. Your hand was in the chip bag one second and at your holster the next, the muscle memory of it faster than conscious thought. The screen had gone red.
Wanderer detected. Class: High energy anomaly. Proximity: 100 meters.
Caleb stepped in close "Behind the market. Let's go."
You were already moving.
---
The alley ran behind a row of shops, narrow and shadowed, the air warping at the far end and that meant the Wanderer had already been there long enough to disturb local reality. You pulled your gun and kept your back to the wall, moving fast. Caleb came in on the other side, gravity already building at his hands, the air around his knuckles bending in a way that meant he was ready.
The Wanderer was enormous, the geometry of it not quite making sense no matter which angle you looked from. It moved fast for something that size, swinging a limb in your direction before you'd fully cleared the corner.
You fired twice. The shots connected and it shrieked, momentum redirected enough that the hit meant for you shattered a section of wall instead.
"Flank!" Caleb called.
You were already going wide. He pulled gravity in from the left, compressing the Wanderer's movement, slowing it just enough for you to get behind it and put three more shots into the joint where two of its limbs connected. It screamed and lurched sideways.
"Keep it off the street," you yelled over the noise.
"Working on it." He dragged it backward with a gravity pull that made the pavement crack under the force of it, steering it further into the alley.
It was not a clean fight. It kept redirecting, slamming into the walls, filling the alley with debris that you had to dodge while maintaining your sight lines.
Eventually the thing started to slow. Eventually it disappeared.
Then you saw it.
On the ground where the Wanderer had dissolved â a Protocore, small, throwing off an iridescent white that you'd never seen from a Wanderer before.
"That's not standard," Caleb said, coming to stand beside you. He crouched down to look at it without touching it. "I've never seen one this color."
"Me neither." You holstered your gun. "I should take it to HQ."
"Agreed." You crouched beside him, reaching for the core at the same time he did, and your hands closed around it simultaneously.
White light erupted.
It collapsed inward, pulling everything âsound, light, air, the alleyâ into a point of white noise and wind, and then nothing, a few seconds later there was a floor coming up very fast.
You hit the carpet with a thud that knocked the breath out of you.
Caleb landed beside you, one arm slamming down to catch his weight before he pushed himself up.
"Are you hurt," he said, breathing hard.
You did a fast inventory. "No. You?"
"No." He looked up. Looked around.
You were inside a huge apartment. Carpeted floor and warm light from the windows. A long couch. A coffee table with papers on it. A mug. A jacket draped over the back of a chair.
Someone's apartment.
You stood up slowly. Caleb was already at the bookshelf, and you followed, and then you saw the first photo and everything in your chest felt strange.
It was you. You and Caleb, standing somewhere sunny, laughing at something out of frame. You were wearing a jacket you didn't own. His hair was slightly different, grown out and pushed back.
There were more. The two of you at a restaurant, faces close across a small table. A shot of you asleep on a couch, and Caleb sitting at the other end with a book, but whoever had taken the photo had caught him looking at you and not at the page.
Your throat felt tight.
"This is my apartment," Caleb said quietly, from somewhere to your left.
You turned to look at him. He was looking at the leather jacket on the chair. His leather jacket, the one currently in his wardrobe back at the base. A pilot's manual on the shelf, the same one he'd been working through. A mug from the Farspace Fleet. A framed photo of your grandmother that matched the one at home.
"The photosâ" you started.
"I know."
He crossed to the coffee table, picked up the newspaper and scanned the top page. He held it out.
The date at the top was two years from now. Exactly two years.
---
You spent the rest of the afternoon going through the apartment with careful attention, very aware you were somewhere you weren't supposed to be. You were trying to understand what the last two years had produced.
Caleb's future self left notes everywhere. Fridge, desk, bathroom mirror. His handwriting but with a different quality to it, more settled. There were more photos than you'd first noticed â tucked into the edges of the mirror in the hallway, stuck to the inside of a cabinet. A birthday card in your handwriting on the desk, standing open. A second toothbrush in the bathroom.
You both looked at that for a moment.
"I'm not going to say anything about any of this," you said finally, standing in the kitchen with your arms crossed.
"Good call," Caleb said, from the doorway.
"I'm âthis is a lot of information."
"It is."
"And I'm not drawing any conclusions."
He went quiet.
The sun went down. The apartment went from warm gold to dark while you sat on the floor of the living room eating crackers you'd found in the cabinet, your backs against the couch, the Protocore sitting on the coffee table throwing faint white light across the ceiling.
"We'll figure out how to get back," Caleb said.
"I know."
"Same energy that brought us here should be able toâ"
"Caleb, I know. I'm not panicking."
He looked at you sideways. "You're quieter than your normal quiet."
"I'm just thinking."
He nodded slowly. Ate a cracker. Didn't push it, he knew when to let something sit. Almost two decades of knowing each other and he'd learned exactly where the lines were.
You were about to say something else when you heard it.
Voices outside.
Both of you were on your feet before the door handle moved. Caleb stepped toward the entryway on pure instinct and you grabbed his arm with both hands and pulled.
"Don't," you said, low and fast.
"I just want to seeâ"
"You cannot make contact with yourself. Do you understand what that does to the timeline? Do you understand what happens if you alter something?"
"I wasn't going to â"
"Caleb." You got in front of him, hands on his chest, looking up at him with full seriousness. "We hide. Right now. We have to wait."
He looked at the door. The handle was starting to move.
"Fine," he said before he grabbed the protocore and then your wrist to pull you toward the hallway closet in two long strides, opening it fast and pulling you in after him, easing the door shut.
The closet was full. Coats, bags, a stack of boxes on the floor that immediately became a problem because you had nowhere to step back, which meant you were now pressed against Caleb from your shoulders to your knees.
You could feel every breath he took.
"This is very small," you whispered.
"I know," he said, directly behind your ear.
His arms were on either side of you because there was nowhere else for them. His chin was above your head. You could feel him making adjustments to keep whatever minimal distance physics was willing to offer, and it was working as well as you'd expect. Which was not well.
You were two childhood friends in a closet in an apartment that was apparently his, two years in the future, surrounded by photographic evidence of something neither of you had said out loud yet, and he was doing his very best not to press against you and his very best was losing badly to the laws of spatial reasoning.
The front door opened.
Through the slats of the closet door, the living room light clicked on.
"I told you." Your own voice, but looser, threaded through with laughter that had a very specific quality to it. "I told you we shouldn't have had that last drink."
"Yeah," came the reply. Caleb's voice, except it was rougher and stripped of the easy warmth you knew and replaced with something that made the back of your neck prickle. "You were flirting with the bartender just to watch me lose it."
"Maybe I was." Future you sounded unrepentant about this.
Through the slats you watched two people stumble into the living room and your brain took several seconds to process what your eyes were seeing. She was in a dress, form fitting, gorgeous, currently half unzipped down the back. Future Caleb had shed his jacket somewhere between the door and the living room, his shirt untucked with half the buttons open, chest visible, hair slightly wrecked.
Behind you, Caleb had gone completely rigid. You felt it happen, every muscle in his body locking up at once.
Then future Caleb grabbed future you by the waist and walked her backward into the living room wall.
The impact was loud. What followed was louder, the sound of them kissing, which was not the word for what was happening, kissing implied something with more restraint than this. Future Caleb had his hands in her hair and on her waist and sliding down to bunch the fabric of her dress up her thighs, all at the same time.
You made a sound you hadn't planned on making.
Caleb's hand came over your mouth so fast you didn't even see it coming, his palm pressing firm and warm against your lips, his forearm across your collarbone. His chest was heaving against your back and something else was pressing against the small of your back that you were both absolutely not acknowledging.
You made a muffled sound against his hand anyway.
His arm tightened.
Future Caleb pulled back just far enough to speak "You want to play games tonight?" A pause, heavy with intent. "Let's find out how loud I can make you scream."
He pushed his hand up her skirt.
You'd never made that sound in your life. Or apparently you would. In two years. Against that wall.
"Calebâwait, waitâthe couchâ"
That was it. That was enough. Your hand shot out in the dark and found the closet door handle and you grabbed it.
Caleb's hand came off your mouth and closed around your wrist, pulling it back against you, his mouth dropping to your ear.
"Don't you dare," he breathed.
"We have to stop watching thisâ" you hissed.
"If you open that door they'll see usâ"
"Then they see usâ"
"And alter the timeline," he said. "Your words. Two minutes ago."
He was right and it was the worst possible moment for him to be right.
"Justâ" His voice came out strained "Just don't move."
"Calebâ"
"I'm a guy, and you are literally grinding into me," he snapped softly, though there was no real anger in it. His forehead dropped briefly to the back of your head. "Just..." sigh "give me a second."
Outside the closet Caleb lifted her clean off the floor. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her the few steps to the couch and dropped her onto it.
His hands yanked the straps of her dress down, baring her breasts. He pinched a nipple, and she arched with a sharp cry. "You are so fucking wet already. Been thinking about my cock all day? Want me to stretch that pretty pussy out right here?"
"Yesâfuck, Caleb, touch me," she gasped, hips grinding up.
Your breath hitched. Heat flooded between your legs, sudden and embarrassing. Caleb's cock twitched against your ass and you had to bite your lip to stay quiet.
Future Caleb reached down and shoved his pants off. You couldn't look away. He was big, thick, flushed, veins standing out. Ready.
Panic hit you. "Don't look," you whispered frantically. "That's... me. Turn around or do somethingâ"
"Like hell," he said against your ear, teeth grazing the shell. "You're the one staring. You like seeing him like that? Seeing what Iâ what he wants to do to you?"
"Caleb, shut up," you whimpered, thighs pressing together.
He didn't fuck her right away. He grabbed her ankles, yanked her to the edge of the couch, and spread her wide. Dropped to his knees.
"Calebâ" she started, but it dissolved into a broken moan as he buried his face between her legs.
The sound of his tongue working her was loud and messy, completely shameless. Her head dropped back against the cushions, fingers twisted tight into the fabric, her whole body shaking every time he dragged his tongue over her clit in greedy strokes. He licked broad stripes up her slit before focusing on her clit again, sucking it into his mouth with a low groan.
"Fuck, you taste so good,âCaleb growled against her pussy, voice muffled but clear enough to carry.
"Just like that babyâ she moaned, one hand fisting his hair, the other still twisting in the couch cushion.
He pinched her nipple hard with his free hand, rolling it between his fingers as he sucked harder. Her thighs trembled around his head.
Behind you, Caleb let out a broken groan that made your knees go soft. His arm snapped around your waist, holding you steady, fingers digging into your hip the exact same way his future self was gripping her out there.
âFuck,â you whispered, head falling back against his shoulder before you could stop yourself. Your pussy was throbbing, aching so bad it almost hurt.
âListen to that. Listen to how wet you get for me.â Caleb shifted his hips, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against your ass through your jeans, dragging the seam right over your soaked cunt.
On the couch, she was losing it. "I need you inside me. I canât wait anymore.â
Future Caleb pulled back, mouth shiny, breathing hard. He stroked himself once, twice, then lined up and drove into her in one rough thrust. Her legs wrapped around him as he started fucking her deep and hard, the couch creaking like it might give out any second. His back and ass flexed with every thrust, hips snapping forward. âGonna come on my cock like a good girl?â
He leaned over her, one hand pinning her thigh higher as he fucked her. âGonna fill you up. Want you leaking my cum the rest of the night. You love being my dirty little slut, donât you? Say it.â
âOh my god,â you choked, voice barely there. Watching yourself get railed like thatâby himâwas too much. The guy whose arms were currently locked around your waist, the same guy youâd known since you were kids, was pounding into a future version of you like he owned her.
She gasped between moans, nails now digging into his back. âYesâyour slut, Calebâharderââ
âThatâs my girl.â His hips snapped faster âCome on my cock like you did last night."
In the closet, Calebâs forehead dropped to your shoulder, his cock twitched hard against your ass, hips making tiny, helpless thrusts.
You couldnât tear your eyes away, every filthy word making the ache between your legs worse.
âJesus,â Caleb whispered raggedly âWe really talk like that?â
You twisted hard, trying to turn around in the cramped space so you wouldnât have to see it anymore.
âStop moving,â Caleb gasped, his control fraying fast as your ass rubbed right over the head of his cock.
âI canât watch thisâlet me turnââ
Your foot caught on a heavy boot buried in the mess at the bottom of the closet. Balance gone.
âWhoaââ Caleb grabbed for you, but it was too late. Your combined weight slammed into the door.
The cheap magnetic latch popped open with a sad little click.
The squeaking of the couch cut off like someone had yanked the plug on the whole universe.
The silence that followed rang in your ears. You pushed up on your elbows, face so hot you were surprised you hadnât spontaneously combusted. Caleb was beside you, shirt rucked up, the very obvious, very hard line of his erection pressing against your thigh.
You both slowly turned your heads toward the couch.
A few meters away, future Caleb was frozen mid thrust, hands locked on future youâs hips, his body still buried deep inside her. She had one leg hooked high around his waist, hair a wild mess, chest heaving. Both of them stared at you with identical expressions of what the actual fuck.
They were a sweaty, flushed disaster, very naked and very, very mid fuck.
âWhat theâŠâ future Caleb started.
Future you blinked slowly. âIs that⊠us?â
You opened your mouth, brain offering the most useless sentence in history. âWe were just looking for soy sauceââ
The white light from the Protocore exploded again. The apartment, the couch, your naked and extremely confused future selvesâall of it ripped away in a roar of rushing air.
Thud.
You hit the dirty alley hard enough to knock the wind out of you again.
Caleb groaned beside you, flat on his back, one arm flung over his eyes. His chest rose and fell in sharp pulls. You could still feel the ghost of his hardness against you, the way his fingers had dug into your hip in the closet. Your own body was still buzzing, thighs slick, pulse pounding between your legs like a second heartbeat.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
Then Caleb let out a shaky laugh that sounded half hysterical. âSoy sauce. Really?â
You rolled onto your side, wincing at the scrapes on your elbows. âIt was the first thing that came to mind, okay? We just watched ourselvesâ I mean, theyâ we wereââ You gestured vaguely, face burning all over again. âYou know.â
âYeah,â he said quietly. âI know.â
He sat up slowly and ran a hand through his hair. The front of his shorts was still a bit tented. He didnât bother trying to hide it. You werenât exactly in a position to judge, your nipples were tight against your shirt, and you were pretty sure your face was the color of a ripe tomato.
The protocore gave one last weak shimmer and dissolved into harmless blue dust that scattered across the pavement.
Caleb looked at you. âSo⊠two years from now, huh?â
You swallowed. âApparently we, uh⊠figured some things out.â
He huffed another laugh, but it was softer this time. Almost wondering. He reached over and brushed a bit of alley dirt off your cheek with his thumb. The touch lingered.
âWe should probably goâ
You nodded, but neither of you stood up right away. The air between you felt thicker than the summer humidity, charged with everything youâd just seen and felt in that stupid closet.
Calebâs gaze dropped to your mouth for a second, then flicked back up. âWhen we get back to the houseâŠâ
âYeah?â you whispered.
He smiled, small and crooked and a little nervous, the same smile heâd given you a thousand times growing up, except this one felt different.
âIâm not waiting two years,â he said.
Your heart did something complicated in your chest.
You grabbed his hand, pulled him up with you, and the two of you started walking out of the alley like nothing had happened.
But everything had happened.
And as your fingers brushed again while you walked, neither of you pulled away.
