Do we think that Frank is someone who is loud or vocal in bed, or is he like a "few grunts here an there" typa guy?
Ok I think Frank is vocal with praise and instruction but his pleasure is in grunts and groans.
So like, he's giving so so so much "good girl" and "that's it pretty girl" and "Doin' so good for me sweet girl" and "Love seein' you take me like this lil' mama" and "Look fuckin' gorgeous all spread open f' me" and "Lemme feel the way you can squeeze me sweetheart" and "Hands and knees babydoll, attagirl." Like you get the picture. He's got no problem making noise when it comes to praising you.
As far as his own pleasure, he's less showy. Frank just has an animalistic quality to him -- he's not necessarily suppressing himself but the natural stuff he emits is more like growls. It's rumbles in his chest. Grunts. It's controlled excursion. It's focused pleasure.
Hi! I've been in my Frank Castle phase for a week and a half—can I do a moodboard request ? Frank x Reader - Shower Sex. If it's okay for you. If not, we can go soft with Frank x Reader - Training Together. Thanks <3
Why not both 🫣 (will post training together later or tomorrow)
re watching daredevil and this is me every time I see that scene of frank being walked out to the witness box in a suit and bruises and cuts on his face:
skilled fingertips roaming the dips and valleys of your body are so frenzied they almost feel dire, stir you from a surprisingly heavy slumber. he's home- had to have slipped beneath the covers while you dreamt (likely of him), and he waited until he absolutely couldn't any more, but he needs you, now. he hasn't voiced it yet, he rarely ever does, but it's evident in the set line of his jaw, and in the way his erection presses warm and firm against your thigh.
his dark hair still bears moisture from the shower he'd had before joining you, and you find yourself frowning.
"you showered without me."
a low rumble sounds from somewhere deep in his throat before he nods, once.
"had to, kid."
-scrubbed until i was raw, and i still ain't convinced i won't get anythin' on ya somehow.
"you alright, frank?"
he doesn't acknowledge your query, just grinds his hard cock against you again, and your body's reaction to that simple touch is immediate and embarrassingly involuntary. white-hot heat like you've never felt before sets what feels like every nerve ending in your body ablaze.
"what do you need from me?"
his fingertips- so calloused and familiar they cause raw emotion to swell in your throat- skate up and down the length of your chest, traversing lower and lower with each pass until he has them mere inches from where you need him most.
"need you to tell me what to do, sweetheart."
it's a rare occurrence, but he gets like this sometimes. he spends so much of his life making impossible decisions, that when he's home with you, he just wants you to steer his ship for a while.
you tilt your head up to press a kiss to the space of warm skin just beneath his earlobe.
"missed you frank, and i just need you to make me feel good."
any resolve he might have had dissipates entirely, and he pushes past the flimsy material of your underwear to tease a thick finger up and down the length of your soaked slit.
"ho-ly shit, sweetheart." he groans.
he's seconds away from doing it again when his phone starts vibrating.
"let it ring," you plead, too turned on to be ashamed of how desperate your demand sounds.
he does let it go, and he's about to continue where he was interrupted, when it rings again.
"chrissakes," he hisses before reaching for his ancient relic of a cell phone. he takes the call there, flat on his back, glaring up at the ceiling.
despite the frenzied thrum of your heartbeat, it's quiet in the room and you can hear the conversation perfectly.
"uh, yeah sorry to bother ya pete, i know ya got in late last night but my batch of concrete ain't curin' right and i need some help."
"christ, sam- there ain't anyone else there to walk ya through it?" he asks, through gritted teeth.
he's in a pair of worn carhartt's and a long-sleeved shirt in ten minutes, and you're left thinking that whatever the female equivalent of blue-balls is, you certainly have it.
"we'll continue this when i get back, yeah?" he hums.
"depends," you sigh. "i've got sarah's birthday dinner tonight."
"oh, i'll be back long before that, kid. you can bet on it." he presses a series of ticklish kisses to your face before leaving.
I don't know if you received my previous ask or not, but it was about me loving your tgm fic Sidelines and being unable to find it on your blog. If you ignore this incompletely understand, and won't ask again
i made it private a while ago, but just changed that now. thank you for the support my sweet, and happy reading 💜