Summary: Frank is older than any man you've dated before, but the age gap doesn't stop him from worshipping the ground you walk on. After a night out, he reminds you just how gentlemanly he can be.
Wordcount: 3k
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a/n: okay i ended up completely scrapping the draft from yesterday because i re-read it this morning and hated it lol this is SMUT but it's smut with FEELINGS because I feel like frank would be so gentle with a younger!reader. i didn't include specific ages, so frank can be whatever age you'd like him to be. i don't think there are any specific warnings with this. reader is a tiny itsy bitsy bratty but in like a cute way so it's not fully brat!reader. enjoy!! <3
requests are always open
“Shit!”
The taxi driver waved a sorry as his cab sped past you on the asphalt. You watched as the last chance at a lift home disappeared around the corner. Huffing, you glanced around and tried to think of a better way to get home than walking 15 blocks in heels.
Your best friend was getting married, which is how you ended up on the sidewalk outside a club in the upper east side at two in the morning. Her bachelorette had been fun, but it was entirely too late for you to be walking around New York City by yourself.
A chuckle startled you out of your thoughts, instantly putting you on alert to a person standing behind you. Swinging around, you groped in your purse for the knife Frank had gifted you for your birthday. You halted your movements when you realized it was Frank’s amused face staring back at you.
“What are you doing here?” You said, immediately forgetting the knife and the sense of dread that had begun creeping up your spine. You grinned, walking into his open arms with glee.
“You didn’t think I’d let you walk home alone, did you?”
His arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you close to his warmth. His hands drifted across your lower back, fiddling with the texture of your dress.
“You’re such a gentleman, Frank Castle.” You inhaled his scent, wishing you could drown yourself in it. He smelled of leather and lavender. It had quickly become your favorite scent in the world.
Frank really was a gentleman. You were constantly surprised by the little things he’d do to make sure you were taken care of. There were always fresh flowers in your bedroom every week. You never had to worry about paying the bills at restaurants, though you still tried to win that argument every time you went out. You hadn’t even come close to touching a door handle in Frank's presence. That’s what happened when you dated older men, you supposed.
Frank was certainly older than any man you’d dated before. Unlike the dreadful men your own age, Frank was experienced and kind. He treated you like a privilege, rather than something to obtain. You didn’t know a world like that existed until you’d run smack into Frank’s chest one night trying to hide from an obnoxious intern at the Anvil Security annual Christmas party. He’d taken your hand in his so gently that you couldn’t help but to be swept away from the rest of the world. You’d been smitten ever since.
Frank showing up after your night out shouldn’t have been a surprise to you. He would always protect you. That was a promise he never intended to break. You felt it in the way he’d stroke your hair every night as you fell asleep on his chest. The way he’d press a gentle kiss to your temple and whisper stories about his family, who had died five years before you’d met. The way he held you tight after a nightmare. His anxieties surrounded you in a protective bubble, but you were happy to work through his worries with him whenever he was too anxious to relax.
His appearance didn’t fix the problem you’d been stewing over moments before, though.
“You don’t happen to have a car hidden somewhere nearby, do you?” You asked, looking up through your lashes at his handsome face.
“I don’t,” he winced, “but I’ve been told I give pretty great piggyback rides.”
He turned, stooping lower so you could jump onto his back.
His strength was also something you were pleasantly surprised to learn about. He was not the typical older man you’d see walking down the street. Frank was in better shape than anyone you’d ever met. His muscles were downright droolworthy, even through the layers of clothing he wore when he did his work around Hell’s Kitchen.
The walk back to your apartment was pleasant, and no one bothered you now that you had a beefy steed carrying you through the streets of New York. He hadn’t even broken a sweat when he set you down on your doorstep, grinning at the sleepy features that had overtaken your face.
“It’s way past our bedtime.” You yawned, turning the key and stumbling through the doorway. Frank waited outside, watching you scramble for the light switch.
“Frank, you don’t have to wait to be invited in every time.” You stated, dropping your purse on the table in the entryway.
“I never want to assume,” he stated, though he quickly shut the door behind him.
“You basically live here, anyway.” You glanced at the spot on the couch that he’d clearly been settled into while you were gone. The blanket had been folded and neatly hung across the back of the loveseat, which was your only indication that Frank had been here. If he hadn’t, it would still be the crumpled ball you’d left it in earlier.
He nodded, smiling as you flopped into the loveseat and began clawing your heels off your sore feet.
“I even have a key.” He observed, glancing at the door to make sure he’d locked both deadbolts. He’d shown up and installed the second one as a precaution after learning which neighborhood you lived in.
“I don’t remember the last time you didn’t sleep here.” You pointed out, dropping your heels to the floor. He had an apartment, but you were pretty sure he hadn’t been there in months.
He dropped onto the seat next to you, pulling your feet into his lap. His strong fingers began massaging the arches of your feet, eliciting a groan from your throat.
“If you move in, I’ll let you do this whenever you want.” You sagged into your seat, allowing Frank to work the tight muscles with his dexterous hands.
He chuckled, watching your eyebrows clench in both pain and relief.
“I don’t know how I could pass that deal by.” He pinpointed the sore spot on your foot that was the cause of the pain, pulling such a filthy groan from your throat that you were pretty sure the temperature in the room rose 20 degrees.
“You can’t make noises like that, sweet girl.” He cleared his throat, trying to refocus his thoughts.
“Why not, Frankie?” You arched an eyebrow at him, suddenly feeling the urge to rip his clothes off.
“You know why.” His voice was hoarse, a sure sign that you were working him up.
His hands grazed over your calves, following the curve of your knee to the midpoint of your thigh before slowly returning to your ankle. His hands moved in a melodic pattern, slowly inching higher and higher up your legs with every pass. You watched his eyes darken as another groan slipped from your lips.
“Sweet girl,” he warned, eyeing the fabric of your dress, which had risen so high you were probably on full display for him, “Where are your panties?”
A wicked grin played on your face as you widened your legs for him.
“I didn’t wear any.” You stated, watching his jaw tick.
“Why not?” His voice was so hoarse. You couldn’t help the pounding in your core as his eyes glazed over.
“I didn’t want to.” You shrugged, stifling a groan as his fingers grazed your inner thighs, feeling the wetness waiting for him there. His eyes were so dark they looked black as he glanced from your wet pussy to your innocent face. You blinked at him, shy at his intense stare.
“You’re perfect.” He mumbled, running a finger through the mess he’d already made, even though he’d barely touched you. You gaped as he slowly brought the finger to his lips, tasting your desire. A carnal desire to be on top of him surged through your body, and you suddenly found yourself straddling his waist. His hands gripped the back of your thighs tightly. Whimpering, you slowly arched into him, grinding against the hardness you felt through his jeans.
“I’m going to ruin your jeans.” You observed plainly, but you couldn’t stop even if you tried. His thick cock was barely contained in his jeans, and you were already close to coming. You couldn’t believe he was still clothed.
“I don’t mind, sweetheart.” He grunted, fisting the fabric that had bunched at your waist.
You groaned, grinding against him even harder. His hands guided you against him, watching as you came undone on top of him. You came so hard that you saw stars, gasping for air as heat enveloped your body. Your ears rang as you continued to grind against him, albeit a little slower as you came down from your high.
A satisfied grin played on Frank’s face as he lifted himself from his seat, holding you tightly against his torso as he walked you toward the bed you shared every night. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you couldn’t stop yourself from surging forward to kiss him as he carried you.
His tongue met yours in a heated joining. The little air you had left in your lungs whooshed from your body as he laid you down on the bed, unwilling to separate himself even for a moment. When your lungs eventually barked at you, you finally broke away, gasping for air as he towered above you.
His jeans were soaked where you’d come undone on his lap. Frank shot you a wicked grin when he saw the damage you’d done. A whine slipped from your lips when you realized he was no longer touching you. Frank, ever the gentleman, slowly pressed a kiss to your forehead before pulling the bunched fabric of your dress over your head.
The heat in the room was not enough to stop your nipples from pebbling as he slowly removed his shirt and unbuttoned his jeans. You whimpered as his cock finally sprang free, instantly sending another wave of heat to your core.
Frank grinned as he leaned down to plant another kiss to your forehead. He left a trail of kisses down your body, nuzzling against your breasts. His warmth washed over you, leaving you begging for more contact as he slowly worked his way down your torso, peppering kisses along the curve of your hips. He nipped at your inner thigh, eliciting a gasp from your quivering body.
“Baby,” His hands wrapped tightly around your legs, pulling you towards the edge of the bed., “Can I taste you?”
He asked so politely that you almost giggled. Even when you were splayed out in front of him, a feast willing and able to be eaten alive by the man in front of you, he was gently asking for consent.
“Please, Frankie.” You mumbled, biting your bottom lip in anticipation.
“My pleasure.” He grunted, immediately attacking your core with his tongue. Your back arched involuntarily, a groan crawling out of your throat as he swiped his tongue across your clit.
“Oh!” You breathed, clenching your eyes shut as he licked your pussy with the ferocity of a starved man.
Your breathy moans catapulted out of you. Pleasure overtook your being, and the only thing keeping you on Earth was the man currently feasting on your pussy. Frank ate pussy like no man you’d met before. It was his privilege to eat you out, and he took the opportunity every time it was presented to him. He was so skilled at it that you almost felt shame for how awful your sex life had been before him.
Frank shifted, pinning your writhing body to the mattress below him. He grunted against you as you let out another filthy moan, seeing stars for the second time in less than 20 minutes. A wave of heat washed over you at the sound of his desire, sending you over the edge.
Vision blurred, ears ringing, you came all over his bearded face. The sight of it had Frank gripping your hips so tightly they’d probably be a little bruised, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Frank was the only man who could get you this worked up, and you loved it.
“There you go baby.” He peppered kisses across your inner thighs, smearing the mess he’d made even further. “You did so good, sweet girl.”
You gasped for air, blindly searching for his warmth as you tried to figure out which direction was up and which one was down. He eagerly met you halfway, pushing his weight onto the mattress has he hovered over your pleasure-soaked body.
“Frank,” you gasped, still breathing hard, “Has anyone ever told you how amazing you are at eating pussy?”
He grinned, tapping your lips with a tsk.
“Wicked girl, you have such a filthy mouth.”
You smiled up at him.
“You love my mouth.”
“Yes,” he nodded curtly, lowering himself to his elbows and allowing his warmth to wash over you.
“Can I use my filthy mouth on you, now?” You asked, watching the carnal desire in Frank’s eyes.
“No.” He shook his head once, chuckling at the frown that played on your face. “I love your mouth, baby, but I can’t go another second without being inside of you.”
Understanding dawned on your face as you shifted your hips, allowing him easy access. He nudged at your entrance, searching your face for any hesitation. You surged forward, pulling him into a deep kiss as your answer, which of course was not enough for Frank.
He pulled away, chuckling at your eagerness.
“I need words, sweet girl.” He nuzzled his forehead against yours, patiently waiting for you to allow him the honor of ravishing you whole.
“Frankie,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. “Please, please, please, fuck me.”
He didn’t hesitate as he slid into you, groaning at the warmth. You moaned with him, suddenly feeling the weight of his cock inside you. A growing pressure built in your core, already begging for release.
Frank slowly began moving, sliding in and out at a torturous pace. You knew he was waiting for you to adjust to his size, but you were tired of waiting. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him into you hard, eliciting a groan from deep in your chest.
Frank huffed a laugh, cradling your head as he began pounding into you. The slickness of your pussy was enough to make him crumble. He watched pleasure overtake your features, grunting at the tightness around his cock. The bed beneath you was shaking so violently you thought it might break. You held on to Frank’s strong arms, digging your nails into the muscles cradling your face.
“Oh, Frank.” You mumbled, breathing hard as he shifted his weight, sliding into you from a deeper angle.
“I love you,” he grunted, pressing his forehead against yours as he pounded into you even harder. “More than anything.”
It was enough to be your third undoing this evening. His love and adoration washed over you as you came, arching your back into his body. He watched as you clenched your eyes shut, holding on for dear life. He’d never forget the look on your face when you came around him. He’d never seen anything as beautiful as you.
You breathed hard as you came back down to Earth, grinding your hips against Frank in an unsteady rhythm. His jaw ticked as he held himself back from ruining your high with his own. He wanted to live in that pleasure with you. He’d torture himself all night if it meant he got to see that look in your eyes.
You pulled him in for another kiss. It was never enough. You needed Frank more and more every time you saw him. It would never be enough. You were pretty sure the feeling was mutual.
Frank kept a steady pace of slamming into your sensitive pussy. You couldn’t help but push your weight against him, rolling him onto his back as you continued grinding on top of him. You knew Frank would draw your pleasure out for as long as he could, but you wanted to see him crumble in indulgence too.
Frank sat up with a gratified grunt, wrapping his arms around your waist. His strong arms guided your pussy against him. A noise lodged in your throat at how sensitive you were after Frank had thoroughly wrecked you, but you kept moving, determined to see his pleasure through.
He grinned as you writhed against him, groaning when you pushed your tongue into his mouth. One hand remained on your hip, while the other gripped your hair in a tight fist at the column of your neck. The small moan that slipped through his lips was indication enough that you were winning this fight.
The hand gripping your hip tightened enough to extract a breathy moan from your mouth, sending him over the edge. Warm cum shot deep inside you, and you couldn’t stop smiling as Frank struggled to get a grip on his pleasure. You rested your head against his, relaxing into his strong frame as you drank in as much pleasure as you could. Frank was nothing if he was not a giver in the bedroom, but you could get drunk off the look on his face when he came.
The room quieted, moans fading into silent breaths as you entangled yourself into him even further. His hands slowly rubbed at your hips, easing the pain he’d caused earlier with his grip.
“I think I will move in, if that’s okay with you.” He said in an exhausted mumble.
You straightened, leaning back to look at his tired face.
“Of course it’s okay with me, Frankie!” You smiled, glee overtaking the sleepy peace you’d been enveloped in moments before.
“Good. I haven’t even been to my apartment in weeks. I think I’m paying the rent for a family of mice.” He chuckled at the sorry state of his apartment. At least rent was cheap in Hell’s Kitchen.
“I love you.” You grinned, pulling him into a kiss.
“I love you too, sweet girl.” He grinned back. One hand held you steady as he reached toward the nightstand that held towels for this exact scenario.
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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.”
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.
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.
MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST // FRANK CASTLE MASTERLIST
Pairing: Frank Castle x f!Reader
a/n: frank is a little toxic in this one but that can be sexy if you squint and have big feelings with nowhere to put them!
Warnings: Smut, spanking, fingering, p in v sex, reader is a brat, frank is toxic, idiots in love basically, kitchen countertop sex, etc.
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”.
“No.”
You stood in the doorway of Micro’s hideout, staring down the most infuriating man you’d ever met. Frank glared at you through the pouring rain, heaving. He was likely injured or in need of a place to sleep, but his stupid, handsome face had soured your mood immensely.
“Not your call, sweetheart,” he grunted, looking you up and down, though he made no move to shove past you into the hideout.
“No,” you repeated, crossing your arms.
Frank’s nostrils flared. Good riddance.
“Still mad about the last time we saw each other?” He taunted, smirking.
“Fuck you, Frank.”
You slammed the door, hoping it whacked him in his large nose. It wasn’t a matter of anger; it was a matter of principle. That’s what you told yourself, at least. Frank had been circling you for years, walking in and out of your life without a second glance. He’d appear on your doorstep, call you pretty, fuck you better than any man should be capable of, and then disappear for weeks again. You’d done this dance so many times that you’d lost count a long time ago. You were not in the mood to dance anymore.
Frank banged on the door, sparking another wave of anger deep in your bones. He was relentless, but you were stubborn. You ignored it, turning back to the couch you’d been half-asleep on before his unwelcome arrival. A grumble echoed through the door, rattling in your bones. You hesitated, turning back toward the door. You hated yourself for it, but Frank was hard to say no to. He didn’t deserve your kindness, but you extended it to him anyways.
An annoying grunt left your throat as you swung the door open again.
“That was pathetic,” you said, glaring at his still-smirking face. You moved to the side, allowing him into the abandoned building.
“Where’s Micro?” He asked, looking between Micro’s usual haunt in front of the computers and your furious figure.
“Occupied,” you sent him a mocking smile, plopping down on the couch.
“Doing what?” His eyes followed your every move intensely.
“I’m not his mother, Frank. I don’t know.”
You threw your hands up in exasperation, curling your legs into your body. The TV was quietly playing re-runs of The Twilight Zone. You pretended to watch it as Frank moved to a fro, doing whatever it is that assholes do when they interrupt your very peaceful evening.
A stifled groan echoed from the small bathroom, pulling your attention away from the show. You blinked, shaking your head. Whatever Frank was doing in there was not your business. You refocused on the tv, hoping the rain would muffle his grunts. It didn’t, of course, and when the groans began ringing in your ears, you found yourself drawing closer to the noise.
Frank was shirtless, hunched over the sink, gripping a needle and thread in his shaking hand. Blood dripped from a nasty wound on his back, littering the floor around him. A small knife was lodged into his shoulder blade. The sight was nauseating. He was breathing heavily, eyes closed in concentration.
“What happened?” You asked, moving closer to the trembling figure.
He jumped, then let out another groan.
“Don’t worry about it,” he heaved, gripping the sink hard enough to crack the fake porcelain.
You rolled your eyes, huffing.
“You have a knife in your back, Frank,” you said, stating the obvious.
“ ‘m fine.” He attempted to wave you off but immediately grunted at the movement.
You placed a hand on his unwounded shoulder, hoping to disarm his foul mood.
“Let me help,” you said, meeting his gaze in the dirty mirror.
He finally nodded, dropping his eyes to the blood-soaked sink.
He still towered over you, even hunched forward. You eyed the knife, hoping it’d be an easy removal. You knew your way around injuries, especially knowing Frank for as long as you had, but there were wounds that even you couldn’t fix. This one didn’t seem too deep.
“Who did this to you?”
You began inching your way towards the knife, hoping to distract him as you removed the blade.
“You gonna go after ‘em?” He teased, smirking at your frown.
“Maybe,” you teased, “Maybe not.”
“Let me worry about ‘em, sweetheart.”
He sounded genuinely concerned, which almost made you laugh. You scoffed instead.
“ ‘m serious. Don’t get involved,” he grunted, meeting your gaze in the mirror.
“I won't. I was just trying to distract you,” you said, quickly dislodging the knife from his back in one swift motion.
He stifled a groan, somehow squeezing the sink even tighter than before. You carefully placed the knife on the counter as Frank’s heaving echoed around the bathroom.
“That fucking hurt,” he finally growled, standing to his full height so that you had to look up at him.
“Sorry.” You grinned.
“No, you’re not.”
You nodded, agreeing with his observation. You were not sorry in the slightest.
“You’re right. And you’re bleeding all over Micro’s nice, clean floor.”
He grunted but didn’t move to stop the bleeding. You kept your eyes on his, ignoring the way his muscled chest was heaving so close to your own.
“We even now?” He finally spoke, dangerously low.
You rolled your eyes, scoffing. Sure, he’d given you the chance to physically hurt him in return for his swift departure from your apartment the last time you’d seen him, but that didn’t make up for the fact that this toxic relationship was ruining your sense of self. Your self-esteem was at an all-time low. Why weren’t you good enough for him?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, shaking the thoughts from your head.
“Thought you were smarter than that, sweetheart.”
He tapped the bottom of your chin with a bloody finger. Teasing. Taunting. Tempting you to bite it off. You pulled away from him, anger renewed.
“You’re an asshole, Frank,” you sneered, turning to get as far away as possible from him.
“Woah, sweetheart,” he said, wrapping his hand around your arm and tugging, pulling you flush against his chest. “I was joking. Relax.”
You shoved against his steel hold around you, letting out a frustrated sigh when he didn’t let go.
“Don’t fucking tell me to relax. I don’t want to do this with you anymore, Frank.”
He blinked, then unlocked his arms and took a full step back. You were grateful for the distance, finally able to breathe now that he wasn’t smothering you.
“I didn’t know,” he simply said.
“Of course you didn’t. That would require you to care, which you’re clearly incapable of.”
It felt like a low blow. Frank cared more than anyone you’d ever met, but you wanted to kick and scream, and he was being entirely too levelheaded for your liking.
“I care,” he sneered, taking the bait. “Don’t say shit you don’t understand.”
“I understand plenty,” you pointed at him, “I’m not a thing you get to take your sexual frustration out on, Frank. I have feelings.”
“Oh, I see,” he said, mocking you, “What do you want me to do? Take you out? Treat you like a girlfriend? A wife? I never promised you any of that.”
“I get it, Frank. Whatever,” you said, leaving the bathroom. Your plan to rile him up had worked, but his words hurt worse than you’d ever admit. Still within earshot, you called out, “Clean up the fucking floor before you leave.”
You occupied yourself in Micro’s makeshift kitchen, ignoring what you hoped were the sounds of Frank cleaning up and leaving. You never wanted to see his abnormally large nose again. You’d probably punch it. Or kiss it. You couldn’t decide which would be worse.
Suddenly, Frank pressed against your back, wrapping his arms around your torso. His cheek rested on the crown of your head. Guilt roiled in your gut, but you didn’t say anything. You wanted him to go. You wanted him to stay. You wanted to knee him in the groin.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Let me make it up to you,” he whispered, voice raspy in the quiet kitchen.
“Did you clean up?” You rested your palms against the countertop, hoping the coolness of the granite would contain the heat climbing up your throat.
“Cleaner than it was. But that bathroom has never been clean.”
You bit your lip, hiding the smile that forced its way onto your face.
“Are you still bleeding all over Micro’s floor?”
“No,” he shook his head, swaying against you.
“Leave,” you said, sighing. You didn’t mean it, and he knew it.
“You know I can’t let you go to bed angry, baby” He teased.
You felt his smirk against your head.
“I’m angry every time I see you, Frank.”
“I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you,” he repeated, pressing a kiss to your temple for emphasis.
“How?”
You knew he wouldn’t be able to fix everything. It was in Frank’s nature to leave when feelings got too big.
“The only way I know how,” he whispered, running his hands over your waistband.
You couldn’t help it. You arched into him, resting your head against his chest. Your shirt, already cropped, revealed goosebumps along your torso.
“Let me show you how sorry I am, sweetheart,” he murmured, fingers splaying over the exposed skin above your pant line. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
You believed him, cursing yourself for allowing him to worm his way back into your good graces.
“You’re going to run off like you have every other time,” you breathed, closing your eyes.
His fingers wound their way around your stomach, soothing touches for all the times he’d burned you.
“I won’t,” he shook his head, “’ll stay this time.”
“You can’t possibly think I believe that,” you said, scoffing.
“Let me take care of you, baby,” he murmured, ignoring your statement, solidifying the truth of it.
You hated him for it. You hated yourself even more for nodding your head, agreeing to his suggestion. Knowing he was a lying snake. Knowing he would do the same thing he always did. Knowing this would end with you alone in bed, again.
“I hate you,” you whispered, arching further into him.
“Yeah? You hate me, baby?” He asked, pushing his hand down the front of your pants. Warmth echoed throughout your body as his fingers brushed against your clit. “You’re already fucking soaked. You don’t hate me, sweetheart. You love this.”
He emphasized his statement by rubbing circles around your sensitive clit. You moaned, leaning into his strength to keep you upright. His free hand was holding you steady against his chest while he teased you relentlessly.
“I love it too,” he whispered against your ear, sending goosebumps down your back, “I love seeing you so worked up over me. So angry. Makes me hard. I think about it for days afterwards.”
“Liar,” you gasped, whining when his finger teased your entrance.
He tutted, wrapping one hand around your throat and lightly squeezing.
“Don’t be a brat,” he chided, running his other fingers through your wet folds. “’m here to say sorry, remember?”
You moaned when he finally plunged two fingers into you, pumping in and out as he lightly squeezed your neck.
“See? You’re so good for me when you’re nice and quiet,” he teased.
Your jaw dropped, ready to argue. He chuckled.
“’m joking, baby.”
He peppered your neck with kisses, emphasizing every pump of his fingers with sloppy nips at your skin. You were wound up tight like a bomb, moments away from explosion. Frank had that effect on you.
“I’m not forgiving you after this,” you huffed, whining when his thumb brushed your clit.
He hummed in response, tightening his grip on your throat.
“Don’t want your forgiveness, baby,” he finally murmured, breath skittering across your exposed skin. Goosebumps fluttered down your spine. “Just need this sweet, sweet pussy.”
He curled his fingers, sending an electric pulse through your body so overwhelming that your knees gave out. An orgasm ripped out of you so fast you couldn’t catch your breath. You mewled as Frank slowly bent you over the counter, gently pulling his hand out of your pants. Your legs wobbled in sickening desire as he tugged your pants down, exposing your ass.
“Love that sound you make when you come, baby,” he grunted, kneading the newly exposed flesh between his large hands. “It plays in my head when you’re mad at me. I get hard every time.”
You huffed in annoyance but didn’t do a thing to stop Frank from rubbing against your bent over figure. He was skilled in two things: fucking and fighting. You weren’t going to complain when he targeted you for the first thing.
“You’re so wet for me already,” he pointed out, slapping your sensitive mound with his palm.
You jolted forward, whining when your cheek scraped against the counter.
“ ‘m sorry, baby,” he said, running a soothing hand up the length of your back. “Do you want me to stop?”
You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment. Did you want him to stop? Never. You always wanted this and so much more. He wasn’t willing to share that with you though, so you’d accepted a long time ago that this was the only piece of him you’d get to cherish.
“Baby,” he said, pressing his forehead between your shoulder blades, “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop. Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll go.”
You blinked your eyes open, ignoring the tear that had appeared on your lash line.
“I don’t want you to stop,” you murmured, breathing hard as his hips grinded against your bare skin.
“What do you want, baby?”
“I want you to fuck me, Frank,” you said, almost whining. It had already been too long without contact. “I want you to fill me up and then I want you to fuck me again.”
A low groan sounded in his throat. You couldn’t see him, but you knew what his face would look like if you could. His eyes, usually harsh and unforgiving, would be dark with desire. His lips would be plump with need, half-smirked and cocky at your foul words. You knew exactly how to drive him crazy too.
“Sweetheart,” he said, somewhere between a plea and a moan, “I love it when you talk to me like that. You’re so fucking pretty.”
You wiggled your ass in response, jumping when his palm smacked against your exposed skin. The sound of his belt being undone made your toes clench. His massive hands wrapped around your hips as he finally pushed into you. Gentle, at first, because you both knew how big he was. This was not the first time he’d bent you over and called you pretty.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, smacking your ass again as he began moving in and out of you, “Your perfect little pussy is so fucking addictive. I dream about doing this every night.”
A moan was the only response you could muster, because he’d suddenly picked up his pace, pounding so deep into you that you saw stars. You gripped the counter, holding on as he slammed into you over and over again.
“You’re so pretty, baby.”
It was almost a whine. Almost. You clenched around him, tightening your pussy as he continued sliding in and out of you.
“F-Fuck,” he grunted, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, “This pretty pussy is going to kill me, sweetheart.”
You did it again, this time arching off the counter even more. And there it was – a whine so deliciously sinful that you nearly came from the sound of it alone. The only time Frank allowed himself to be vulnerable was when he was with you. You relished in it. The biggest, baddest thing in New York was whining in your ear about your pretty pussy and your even prettier face. It was enough to give a girl an ego.
Frank wound his arm around your face, pulling you slightly off the counter and arching your back even more. His hand gripped your throat tightly. The new angle allowed him to plunge even deeper, and you couldn’t stop the pleasure-soaked tears from finally spilling down your cheeks.
“Even when you’re being bratty,” Frank started, emphasizing the word ‘bratty’ with a punishing slam, “You’re fucking pretty. My pretty fucking brat.”
“I’m not your anything,” you murmured, arching into his touch.
“You’re my everything, sweetheart,” he grunted.
“Maybe just your annoying little plaything,” you said, unable to keep the venom out of your voice.
A firm hand smacked against your ass. You meant what you said, but you didn’t truly believe it. Frank’s pace hadn’t stuttered, but you felt his intense stare as he continued wrecking you.
“You’re my salvation, baby,” he murmured, barely loud enough for you to hear. So quiet, in fact, that you thought you might’ve imagined it.
He didn’t give you the chance to think too hard about it. You were very suddenly seeing stars, orgasm sneaking up on your pleasure-filled body. You turned your head, muffling your moans with the countertop before Frank pulled you off the counter again. This time, he pulled out of you completely, turned you around, set you on the counter again, and plunged back into you.
“Nah, sweetheart,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours, “I wanna hear those pretty noises you make for me.”
You nodded, swallowing thickly. You’d barely gotten through your first two orgasms. A third seemed unlikely, though Frank’s face was more determined than ever. His hands wound around your hips, helping himself find the right angles to send you spiraling once again.
You couldn’t help yourself. His face was right there, and you wanted to feel his skin against your palms. You rested your hands against his cheeks, pulling his attention to your face. He hesitated, only for a moment, before pushing his lips against yours.
It was a frantic, wild kiss, begging to devour you whole. Frank did everything with his entire heart behind it, including kissing you. It wasn’t the first time you’d kissed, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last, but this one felt different. Hungrier.
You whined into his mouth, which spurred him to drive into you at an even greater speed. If you weren’t hanging on to each other, you would’ve certainly fallen off the counter.
“You drive me fucking crazy,” he whispered against your lips, brushing his tongue over the corner of your mouth for emphasis before capturing your lips in another intoxicating kiss.
You whined into his mouth, feeling your pleasure heat between your legs for a third time that evening.
“Frank,” you moaned, arching your back, “I want you to fill me up.”
You knew that would be the thing that brought him over the edge. He was stoic and quiet in most aspects of his life, but you knew deep down that Frank had a breeding kink. You had put yourself on birth control as a surprise for him. He fucking loved it.
His hips finally stuttered, plunging deep inside you as he came. You couldn’t stop the heat from overtaking you as well, pulling a third orgasm from deep within your core. Maybe Frank was your kink.
You wilted against him, worn out and wobbly from the intense make-up sex. Those were always your favorite sessions, even though the feelings that came before and after seemed to get harder every time.
His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling your legs around his waist and lifting you in the air. You sagged into him, praying to a God that you barely believed in that he would stay. He said he would. You wanted to believe him so badly.
“Get the lights, baby,” he murmured as carried you towards the bed you sometimes shared with him.
He plopped you down on the bed, crawling under the covers with you in the dim light of the warehouse. It was still pouring outside, which was maybe God’s fleeting mercy. Frank pressed against your tired body, soaking in the warmth of your skin brushing over his.
“You’re leaving?” You asked, barely above a whisper.
“Not yet, baby.” He shook his head. “I said I wouldn’t.”
“I didn’t believe you.”
Frank’s mouth formed a small grin before he planted perhaps the softest kiss he’d ever given you on your forehead. You sighed, finally allowing yourself to rest against his chest. You already knew this wouldn’t end well, but that didn’t stop you from hoping it wouldn’t.
Later, when the rain finally stopped, and only when Frank knew you were in a deep sleep, would he sneak out of the warehouse. When you awoke to an empty, cold bed, you resigned yourself to never speaking to Frank again, knowing you were lying to yourself. You and Frank were in a toxic cycle that you couldn’t begin to pry yourself out of. You rolled over, half-aware that you’d done this to yourself by trusting him again. That didn’t stop the tears from flowing onto your pillow anyways.
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Part Two
Pairing: older!Frank Castle x f!Reader
a/n: i wrote this in third person to try something new, but i kept the fmc very very vague so that it could still be reader-insert. i don't know how i feel about it...tell me what you think about the narration change! i set it up to write more parts/chapters with different scenarios like getting caught, going on a trip together, etc. i don't necessarily have a narrative, but i like this trope a lot!
Tags: i mean basically it's all smut, oral (fem!receiving), p in v sex, younger reader x older frank, porn with feelings, rough-ish sex, doggy style, do not do this in a real kitchen, multiple orgasms (f!receiving), frank talks fmc through it, alternate universe, non-canon
She didn’t mean for it to be this way, but honestly, she couldn’t imagine anything better than Frank kneeling in front of her, lapping away at her cunt as she tried to cook dinner. Frank wasn’t a loud man. She’d been around him long enough to know that he preferred peace and quiet over most things. Nevertheless, it surprised her just how loud he’d get when his head was crammed between her legs, eating like a man who’d been starving for weeks.
She struggled to focus on the task at hand – chopping vegetables for the stew she was supposed to be cooking for dinner. Her dad had specifically requested it. He had claimed that it was Frank’s favorite dish of hers, though she knew better than that. Frank’s favorite dish was her pussy, and it had been for a long time.
Her dad didn’t know – of course he didn’t know – that she was fucking his oldest friend. They’d been the most discreet about this arrangement, sneaking around the house when her dad was away, and they never intended on getting caught. He’d probably have an aneurysm if he could see them now.
Frank’s tongue circled her cunt again, sending a shiver down her spine. He was so damned good at this part. She knew he was detail oriented because of his job, but she hadn’t anticipated how focused he could be when he was determined to get things done. His current obsession was making her come as many times as humanly possible in the hour before her father got home from work.
He was working on number three now, gripping the back of her wobbling knees to hold her steady. She watched the knife shakily chop another carrot, feeling a million miles away from the girl in the kitchen. Her vision swam as heat coiled in her core. The calluses on his palms scraping against her bare thighs is what did her in. Frank greedily drank her third orgasm of the afternoon, smirking into her cunt.
He pulled away, watching her resolve crumble. She sighed, closing her eyes as waves of pleasure overtook her senses. The knife she’d been cutting with was flat against the cutting board, squished beneath her palm. He eyed the sharp blade, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to ruin her high.
When she finally blinked down at him, it was with flushed cheeks. He loved that about her. She’d never been able to hide her feelings from him. He wanted to do it all over again – lift the skirt of her dress up and plunge into her again with his tongue – but she pressed her palm into his cheek and tutted.
“Greedy,” she muttered, running her fingers through his hair.
He leaned into her touch, squeezing her ever-wobbly legs. Yes, greedy was a good word to describe how he felt about her. He couldn’t get enough, and she was ever so generous. They were perfectly matched in that department.
“How long do we have?” He asked, inching his fingertips up the back of her thighs.
“Not long enough,” she replied, glancing at the clock on the wall.
A car door slammed somewhere nearby, sending a shock through both of them. They’d lost track of time. Her dad was home and would be walking through the kitchen any second now. They glanced at each other for a single moment, wide-eyed and frantic, before moving in unison.
Frank unfolded from his stooped position, wincing when his knees popped in protest. If they weren’t in such a hurry, she’d giggle and call him old. She cursed, running her hands through the wrinkles on her dress.
“Dinner’s not ready yet,” she murmured, pulling her hair back into a knot at the nape of her neck.
Frank, who was normally much more coordinated, crashed into the bar stools on the other side of the kitchen in his attempt to put some distance between the two of them, causing alarm to flit across her face. She opened her mouth to chastise him when the door swung open, revealing Frank’s oldest friend. Her father moseyed through the door carrying a briefcase, a day-old coffee mug, and the coat he’d worn out the door that morning.
The thing about her father was that he really wasn’t a terrible guy, just busy. He’d raised his only child by himself, making sure she was taken care of and well-fed, even when his empty belly ached at the dinner table. He hadn’t a lot of money, but he had a lot of love, and he, like all great parents, made do with that until they figured it all out.
Frank felt sick to his stomach every time he came face to face with him. He didn’t mean to fall for his best friend’s daughter either, but it didn’t seem like his choice. Their budding relationship seemed inevitable from the moment she returned from college, eager to help her dad out around the house. Frank didn’t know she would be so...agreeable.
“Hey, old man,” her dad said, patting Frank on the back with a wide grin. He eyed his daughter, focused solely on the carrot that had surpassed sliced a while ago and was approaching pulp-ish. “Hi, honey.”
“Hey, how was work?” She replied awkwardly, flicking her gaze from the vegetable to her dad, then to Frank and back to her dad. “I’m almost done with dinner.”
She turned back toward the cutting board, listening to him recount a story about one of his students forgetting to cite his sources in his semester essay. It was almost Christmas. She felt like maybe the student deserved a break, but she wasn’t a college professor, so what did she know?
“I’ll go get ready for dinner.” Her father finished his story, turning towards Frank. “D’ya want something to drink? I raised her to host better than that, y’know.”
He shot her a pointed look, amusement clear in his eyes. She blushed. While that was true, she didn’t think Frank minded that they’d chosen to forego drinks and jump straight into oral when he’d arrived.
“She always takes good care of me,” Frank cleared his throat, sending another shiver down her back. She threw the vegetables in the stew, choking on the gasp that had lodged itself in her throat.
“Right.” She nodded, trying to play it cool. “I offered earlier, dad.”
She finally let her breath loose when her father disappeared deeper into the house. Frank smirked.
“Frank-”
He brought his finger to his lips, reminding her to keep her voice low.
“You’re awful! He’s going to catch on!” She whisper yelled across the kitchen. Frank was already closing the gap between them, unable to keep himself away from her. Her hips were a magnet for his hands. He had no power over it.
“He won’t suspect a thing.” Frank smirked, wicked thoughts clear as day on his face. “Will there be any dessert? I already know what I want.”
She rolled her eyes, giggling.
“Not if you can’t keep your terrible mouth shut during dinner!”
She nudged him towards the table, turning back to her stew moments before her dad rejoined them in the kitchen, none the wiser.
When dinner was done, she piled pots, pans, and plates into Frank’s hands at the sink. He always insisted on helping her clean the kitchen. She knew it frustrated him that her dad never offered, but those complaints were met with firm shushing from her. It wasn’t his business what her father did or didn’t do.
“Same time next week?” She asked as she walked Frank to the front door.
He’d been sitting with her dad in the study for an hour, joining him only after the dishes were completely washed, dried, and put away. She didn’t mind sharing him with her dad. Frank was the only person who came around anymore besides solicitors and the occasional girl scout. It made her feel less guilty for stealing all of Frank’s attention.
“Same time as always,” Frank said, tapping her nose with a wink. “Thanks for dinner.”
She knew what he meant. In a few hours, she’d be plundering across the lawn, bundled against the cold with a very specific destination in mind. Frank’s back door was always unlocked. She’d know her way from stoop to stoop with her eyes closed.
Her father joined her at the window as she watched Frank mosey down the street, hands tucked in his pockets.
“You’re nice for letting him come over early, honey. I don’t think he talks much to other people. Mrs. Cross said he spoke to her in mostly grunts at the workshop the other day.”
“Was Mrs. Cross trying to talk her way into free repair?” She pressed, arching an eyebrow.
Frank often vented to her about the jobs that people in town tried to get him to discount. Mrs. Cross was a steady regular for him, but she was the cheapest lady he’d ever met. Frank had worked on almost everyone’s house in town at one point or another. He was the resident-fixer-upper, and he also happened to be one of the only handsome bachelors in town. Women hired him all the time to do random things around their house when their husbands weren’t home. Frank hated it, but it paid the bills.
“She must’ve left that part out,” her father conceded, sipping his whiskey. “Still, I think he’s a little lonely.”
“I think he gets on just fine,” she murmured, adjusting the curtains over the window once Frank was out of sight. “Besides, don’t you think people say the same about you?”
Her father had been a bachelor just as long as Frank, prioritizing work and raising a child over developing a relationship with someone new. Women hounded the widowed professor almost as much as they hounded Frank. Still, having a grown daughter living with him seemed to keep them off his back. Mostly.
“Never.” He shook his head. “I have you, remember?”
She nodded, half-smiling as he made his way down the hall to his study. He did have her, but he wouldn’t always. She’d have to grow up someday. They both would.
When her father had finally lost his battle to whiskey and sleep, she found herself creeping into Frank’s dark house, removing her shoes by the door. He always made fun of how quiet she forced herself to be, knowing that the only person in the house was him, but it was a force of habit. She’d been quietly tiptoeing around her house for years.
It always went something like this. Every night, she made her way up the stairs, overly familiar with his house, and inched the bedroom door open. Every night, Frank met her at the door, shirtless and oh-so-fuckable, tugging her lips against his in breathtaking swiftness. Every night, they tangled themselves in the sheets and each other, deepening their connection and furthering their affair.
Inbetween kisses, he gasped into her mouth, “What took you so long?”
Inhale. Kiss. Exhale. Kiss.
“He was doing the crossword. You know Thursdays are the trickiest-oh!”
In one sweeping motion, he’d lifted her off the ground bridal-style and chucked her on the blanketed bed, erasing any thoughts of gridded puzzles.
“Thought you weren’t coming,” he said, hovering over her frame.
“I’ve been here every night for months,” she replied, running a cool fingertip down his exposed bicep. “I’ll always come.”
“Always? Promise?”
He winked at her, barely visible in the dim light of his bedroom, but it sent another flurry of butterflies through her core. Smitten was a good word to describe her. Smitten and damned, because she didn’t care how wrong it made her feel.
“I promise,” she said candidly.
And she really believed she meant that.
x
Frank had quite the stamina for an older guy. It’d been almost an hour, edging himself closer and closer to coming every time another orgasm tumbled from her lips. She was currently on her stomach, wedged between him and the comforter. Her arms were crossed behind her back, held tightly by Frank’s large hand as he pounded into her. Hot, pleasurable tears streamed down her cheeks.
She arched against his weight, trying to stave off another orgasm, but it spurred him further. He slammed into her with such force that an unsolicited moan forced its way from her throat.
“Frank,” she started, swallowing thickly.
His hand met her throat, tugging her head back even further. She groaned at the new position. He was somehow even deeper inside than he’d been before.
“What do you need, baby?” He cooed, breathing into her ear. Goosebumps skittered down her spine in response.
“P-Please,” she whined.
“You’re doing so good for me, sweetie. Can you give me one more?”
“Frank-,” she mewled into the comforter, muffling the sound.
“Just one more, baby,” he coaxed, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You can do it.”
She wasn’t sure she could. Frank had enticed more orgasms out of her over one evening than she’d ever had in her life. Even so, the familiar heat coiling in her core told her she’d be trembling with pleasure again soon.
“You look so pretty like this,” he murmured, rutting into her. “Wish I could keep you in my bed forever.”
It had taken her a while to get used to Frank’s praise. He was relentlessly flattering, and what’s worse is he meant everything he said to her. She’d spent most of her life trying to understand the people around her; hours spent deciphering the words they used when they meant something completely different. Yet, Frank’s words were always genuine, and she never doubted their truth.
“C’mon, baby,” he whispered, kissing down the slope of her spine, “I know you want to.”
She really, really did. Frank was an all-consuming, overwhelming force taking her exactly where she wanted to go. He squeezed her throat, eyes lighting up as a slew of curses left her lips. She was already gone, lost in a haze of pleasure reserved only for Frank. She relished in the sturdiness of his body, pressed against her in a way that made her feel whole.
Finally, he let go of the leash he’d been holding on himself, bucking forward and holding himself deep inside of her. His delicious groan pushed her even further over the edge. A beautiful cacophony of heavy breaths and moans surrounded the two of them.
When she finally blinked her eyes open, Frank was coaxing her back to life with gentle kisses down her spine. She relaxed into his touch, heart pounding.
“You’re perfect, sweetheart,” he breathed, rutting into her a final time for emphasis. “I can’t believe how perfect you are for me.”
He dropped to the bed next to her, still breathing heavily. She couldn’t wipe the goofy grin off her face. He really was the most handsome bachelor in their town.
“Do you ever wish that I was older?” She asked, suddenly shy in front of the man that had seen her naked in a multitude of positions.
His gaze snapped to hers.
“What do you mean?” He asked.
“I just mean- Like if I was older, maybe we wouldn’t have to hide it from everyone.” She said, gnawing on her bottom lip.
“I don’t care how old you are,” he shook his head, sitting up. “I care about hurting your dad, hurting you, but I don’t care about the rest of it. I’m not hiding you because of that.”
She nodded, understanding but still disliking it. She wasn’t sure her dad would ever come around to the idea of Frank and her together, and she was too much of a coward to tell him about it.
“Are you thinkin’ about telling him?” Frank asked, arching an eyebrow at her.
“No.” Shook her head. “The opposite actually. I don’t think we’ll ever be able to tell him.”
He ran his hand along her back, soothing the anxiety before it could bubble into something worse.
“And that makes me sad,” she murmured, eyes glossy.
“I know it does, baby,” he said, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “ ‘m sorry we can’t be more open about us.”
His quiet whisper broke her heart. She’d never been this enraptured by another person. Frank was kind and didn’t make her feel weird for being herself. It was unfair that she couldn’t publicly celebrate the only person in the world who knew her. But her dad wasn’t a progressive man, to say the least, and he’d likely try to kill Frank for even looking at her in a suggestive way.
“Do you ever think about running away?” She asked, curling against Frank’s side and relishing the warmth that radiated from his skin.
“With you?” He sighed. “All the time.”
“Me too,” she said, closing her eyes and imagining it.
They could go anywhere, but she knew they’d end up near the ocean. She was hundreds of miles away from one, but they’d figure it out.
“We could get a house on the beach,” she said, smiling. “I could take you out and not have to worry about running into anyone we know. I could show you off, like I want to do now.”
Her heart ached at the thought of it. She knew Frank was hurting too. It was all a silly, out of reach dream that they had. The world was much smaller than they wished it to be. It didn’t matter how they felt about one another if her father wasn’t okay with them being together.
“I’ll buy you that house on the beach one day, sweetheart,” Frank sighed again, running his fingers up and down her back, “And we’ll run away together; have a life outside of the four walls of this bedroom.”
“You promise?”
She looked up at him with sadness in her eyes and hope in her heart. Everything about their situation was troubling, but she couldn’t possibly end it. She loved Frank, even if it meant isolating herself from the rest of the world.
Summary: Frank and Reader have been working together flawlessly for years, but Frank is struggling to come to terms with his feelings for Reader due to their easy-going and trusting friendship. After a mission goes south and Reader is kidnapped, Frank is forced to confront his feelings and save Reader.
Wordcount: 3.6k
MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST // FRANK CASTLE MASTERLIST
a/n: i got this request and immediately pulled my computer out to start writing!!! i love writing arguments between protective frank and reader sooo much, especially when it ends in a love confession. thank you so much for the request, nonnie!!! enjoy!
Frank Castle was not an easy man to get along with. After years of military discipline, coupled with the fact that his behavior was the product of the worst kind of betrayal and corruption, Frank knew he was a little rough around the edges. This hadn’t stopped you from waltzing into his life with absolutely no regard or tolerance for his bullshit.
Frank watched as you meticulously cleaned the weapons in front of you on the table. Your attention to detail was enough to make a Marine envious. He still didn’t know where you learned it all, because you certainly weren’t ex-military like him.
“Are you gonna stare at me all night, or sit down and help?” You shot him a pointed glance before returning to your work, mumbling under your breath about the audacity of men.
Frank couldn’t stop himself from grinning a little. Your smart mouth had gotten both of you in a lot of trouble, but it was one of the reasons you were such good friends. You could dish it out and you could take it.
Frank sat with a wince. His back had been beaten to hell a few weeks prior, and he was pretty sure his ribs had only just begun healing, but he wasn’t going to complain. Thus was the life of the Punisher.
“You make sure they’re all unloaded?” Frank questioned, though he knew the answer to that question already. He didn’t know why he liked teasing you so much, but he couldn’t help himself.
You sent a glare across the table, scoffing.
“Do you think I’m an idiot?” You asked, cocking your head to the side. Frank watched the rise and fall of your shoulders as annoyance coursed through you, sending a tingling sensation directly into his chest.
“No.” Frank said firmly, “Was just a question.”
“Hmm.” You answered, rolling your eyes.
Frank knew you liked the teasing too. He was completely in the dark about why you enjoyed it, but nonetheless, it wouldn’t be your relationship without all the teasing.
Or the pining. Or the filthy dreams you have about her you sick fu-
“Frank, are we doing this thing or not? I can’t clean all these guns by myself. Do something.”
Your comment startled him out of his dirty thoughts. You were staring at him with a bewildered look on your face, probably wondering why the hell Frank couldn’t seem to focus lately.
Frank quickly grabbed a gun, double checking that the weapon was actually unloaded before beginning the cleaning routine he was so familiar with.
It wasn’t his fault, really. He couldn’t help that your legs kept him so distracted during debriefings that he never heard a word you said. He also thought it was rude of you to wear your hair the way you do, because it made him dizzy when you walked by and he could smell your shampoo. Really, if Frank thought about it, it was your fault he was so out of it, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
He certainly wasn’t going to be the person to ruin whatever this was between the two of you. He liked things the way they were, so instead of daydreaming about your legs like he constantly wanted to do, he did his best to ignore the festering feelings bubbling in his chest every time you walked in the room.
It was better that way.
The plan for the evening was simple. Get in, shoot the motherfuckers who were trafficking women, and get out. They’d never see Frank or you coming, and New York would be better for it tomorrow. It was a normal, run of the mill mission that you and Frank had worked dozens of times before. Frank trusted you with his life, and you offered the same trust to him, albeit with a little sass. There shouldn’t have been any issues.
So, of course the plan went to shit as soon as it began.
Neither of you had expected such a large operation to be booming right in the heart of New York City. Frank watched from behind a pallet of crates as you snuck around the structural framework of the warehouse roof, disappearing behind beams faster than any normal person could track. His job was to cause a distraction as soon as you found the women so that you could lead them to safety without endangering them further, but he couldn’t move past the bad feeling bubbling in his stomach.
Your eyes found him in the darkness, sending him a wink before disappearing around a beam. Frank, who normally would charge headfirst into the array with guns blazing, was horrified to realize that he was considering calling this off. You were out manned, out gunned, and vulnerable if any of those men happened to look up and see you, and that sent a sinking feeling through his chest.
Minutes dragged by as he waited for your signal. The longer he waited, the more restless he became. The men he was supposed to be focusing on were growing more rowdy by the second, and if he didn’t step in soon, someone would surely see you.
Gunfire was his first indication that something was wrong. Screaming was the second.
Frank catapulted into action, rolling into a standing position and taking aim at the first man he saw. Most of the men in the room didn’t know he was there until a round of bullets ricocheted through them.
“Frank!”
Your voice carried through the warehouse, echoing off the walls directly into Frank’s chest. That was not the signal. Something had gone very, very wrong.
He ran, plowing through another group of men with such ferocity that the metallic tang of blood would probably coat his tongue for hours afterwards. The warehouse was huge, and there were hallways in every direction. Screams echoed around him, sending him into a furious scramble through room after room, shooting everything that moved. His thoughts felt disorganized and messy. He couldn’t focus on anything but you, you, you.
You weren’t anywhere, and it was driving him to madness. The trail of bodies he followed through the building made him simultaneously proud and sick to his stomach. You were always able to hold your own, but you shouldn’t have had to do this part alone.
Somehow, the eerie silence that had crept in was even worse. When you were screaming, at least he knew you were still alive. Now, he was in the dark and his instincts didn’t know where to begin.
He finally made it to the back of the warehouse, where a single door swung on its hinges leading to the harbor outside. The unmistakable scent of gunpowder and sweat engulfed the room. Frank’s eyes caught on the gun you’d been so meticulously cleaning earlier that day. He tried not to think too hard about what kind of trouble would have caused you to drop it. The sound of screeching tires tugged his attention back to the door.
He didn’t hesitate. He ran as hard as he could, praying to a God that he didn’t believe in anymore. Anyone, anything, to make sure you were okay.
He hadn’t run far when he came across another group of men, guns pointed directly at him. He would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so worried about you. He didn’t care that they had guns shoved in his face. This part of the job was a cakewalk for him. He easily took out the men, only to realize how fucked the situation truly was.
A group of women stood huddled a few feet away, clearly terrified of him. He moved towards them, causing a ricochet of cries to erupt from the group. This is why you were the one in charge of getting them out of situations like this. To them, he was just another violent man. He needed you.
“Are you with her?” One croaked in his direction, voice wobbling. She held her chin high, though Frank could taste her fear in the air around him.
“Where is she?” He demanded, immediately regretting the tone of his voice. He couldn’t think straight, and it was grating on his nerves that he hadn’t found you yet.
She flinched, raising her hand slowly to point.
“Frank!” A muffled cry echoed across the pavement.
He turned, horrified as he watched masked men shove you into the back of a van. His heart seized, forcing a grunt from his throat. The van was too far, already screeching away in the opposite direction. He raised his gun, then lowered it. He couldn’t risk hitting you.
“Fuck!” He shouted, slamming his gun down on the pavement. He crouched down, holding his head between his hands for a moment before straightening again. “Fuck!”
He felt both deathly calm and dangerously on edge. He needed to get these women to safety. He needed to go after you. His vision went red at the thought of what they’d do to you. He would rip their heads from their bodies when he got his hands on them. He would paint New York red with their blood. He’d hand deliver their heads to the NYPD with a reminder of how shitty they were at their jobs. He would do anything to bring you back to him.
He repeated the license plate from the van like a furious mantra, dialing Micro with shaking hands. It was probably stolen, but still worth looking into. Micro was less than enthused to be getting a phone call at one in the morning, but Frank couldn’t find it in himself to care. He had to do something.
Even less enthused to hear from him was Matt Murdock, who he hadn’t spoken to in months. While they disagreed on almost every choice the other made, Matt could hear the desperation in his voice as he explained the situation. Frank knew Matt was close by and wouldn’t allow innocent people to get hurt.
“Listen,” Frank lowered his voice to seem less imposing to the women who had silently watched him having a meltdown over the phone, “A guy’s going to be here soon. He’ll be in a ridiculous Halloween costume, but you can trust him. He’ll help you. I have to go after- I have to get her back.”
Frank gasped for air. He needed to go after you, but you’d be absolutely furious at him if he didn’t make sure the women were okay first.
The woman who’d originally spoken nodded, opening her mouth to say something and then stopping herself.
Frank did his best to be patient while she worked up the courage to speak. His restless energy felt palpable, hanging in the air, suffocating him. The longer he waited, the more likely it was that he’d find you dead. He could not let that happen.
“She threw herself in front of us. They grabbed her instead of us. She did it on purpose.”
Frank’s heart felt like it might burst out of his chest. That sounded exactly like something you’d do. He cursed you for your recklessness but couldn’t be too upset. You’d chosen to put yourself in danger, rather than let their victims continue to bear the brunt of their violence. Warmth, and a little bit of rage, tingled in his chest.
“I have to go after her.” He repeated, voice hoarse with sorrow.
The woman nodded, understanding the quiver in his voice for what it was. What it meant.
“Red will be here soon. You’ll know him when you see him.” Frank nodded once, eyes glazing over as he calculated exactly how he was going to find you. Micro was searching, but that took time he didn’t have.
“The men...,” the woman began, huddling closer to the women around her, “They mentioned 10th Avenue when they thought we weren’t listening. It’s another warehouse, I think.”
Frank swallowed thickly, thanking her softly. He knew what he’d have to do, and he didn’t hesitate to run headfirst into danger to get you back. Thus was the life of Frank Castle.
The block felt completely abandoned when Frank finally made it to the warehouse district of Hell’s Kitchen, but he knew they were somewhere nearby. As soon as they’d seen the white skull on his chest, they knew they had Punisher-shaped targets on their back. Fucking cowards.
Frank wanted nothing more than to comb the entire block looking for you, but he knew that would waste precious time. He needed to fucking relax, but his body was screaming at him to go, run, find. Every military instinct he’d ever learned warred in his mind with the desire to find you. To save you. To hold you. It had been hours since he’d last seen you, and every minute that went by was eating at his soul.
He grounded himself in the pain radiating from his ribs. If they hadn’t already been busted up before tonight, they were surely broken now. He didn’t care. The pain helped him focus on the task at hand.
He searched for the van, finding it sloppily tucked behind a building. Frank didn’t think they were that stupid, but he’d learned a long time ago not to underestimate the idiocy of desperate and terrified men.
There. A flash of light. A curtain being carefully closed. Less than half a second, but Frank clocked it with ease. Anyone else might’ve missed it, but not Frank. He was certain of what he’d seen. Within seconds, he was moving around the back of the building, ready to rip anything that moved in half.
Soft voices carried through the glass of the windows. Frank only counted two, but he couldn’t be sure. Your voice is what he was searching for, and he hadn’t heard it yet.
His patience finally wore thin, sending him into another furious rage as he kicked the door off its hinges. The two men inside jumped to their feet, scrambling for their weapons. It didn’t matter. Frank was on them before they could let out a squeak. He fired a bullet at one, making sure it hit its target before grabbing the other by the throat and slamming him into the reinforced concrete wall. He resisted the urge to dig his thumbs into the man’s eyes.
“Where is she?” He grunted, slamming the man’s head against the wall again.
“In there! IN THERE!” The man groaned, pointing toward the closed door across the room.
Frank threw the man to the ground, watching the light leave his eyes as he fired his gun. And fired. And fired. The clip was completely empty, but Frank didn’t care. The men deserved worse than what they got.
Frank hurried to the door, pushing against the creaking wood, terrified of what might be on the other side.
You were on your side, curled into a tight ball. Your eyebrows were furrowed, jaw clenching and unclenching. Dried blood coated your skin, but Frank couldn’t tell if it was yours or someone else’s. The sight broke his heart.
He fell to his knees in front of you, running his hand over your hair. Tears streaked your cheeks as you grabbed his shirt in a tight fist.
“What did they do?” He couldn’t see any bleeding wounds, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t hurt you.
“It’s fine, Frank.” You gritted your teeth as you tried sitting up.
Frank softly nudged you back toward the ground, scrambling to figure out his next steps.
“It’s not fine.” He responded, softly cupping your cheek. “What’d they do to you, sweetheart?”
Your face crumbled. Pain echoed through Frank’s entire body. Fresh tears escaped your eyes, and Frank couldn’t think of anything to do but wipe the tears away with his thumbs.
“Take me home, Frank.” You pleaded, unable to answer his question.
Frank didn’t hesitate to lift you into his arms, holding you close. The blur at the edge of his vision finally subsided when he felt you nuzzle against his chest, breathing a thank you. The pounding in his ears didn’t stop until he was setting you on the couch at the safehouse you’d been sharing for months.
“Anything hurt?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the cushion. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, which was a new phenomenon for him. He’d never thought so hard about what he should be doing with his limbs until you waltzed into his life.
“No, just a little rattled ‘s all.” You shook your head, grabbing his restless hands and pulling them to your chest. “What about you? Your ribs still fucked?”
A shy smile played on Frank’s face.
“Yeah, they’re always fucked.”
Frank wasn’t lying. His side had been screaming at him for hours, but that was something he could worry about later.
“What happened, sweetheart?” He asked, unable to hide the crack in his voice.
A look of pure terror struck your face. You sat up, wincing at the sudden movement.
“Did you get the women out? There was a group of them in the back. I tried to get them out, but I-”
Frank held up a hand, silencing your worried rant.
“They’re fine. Red's handling it.”
“Matt?” You questioned, cocking your head to the side. “He was there?”
“I called him after...,” he paused, clearing his throat, “After you were taken.”
“Oh.” You said softly, nodding slightly. A shadow hid in your eyes, but Frank was too much of a coward to call you on it.
“I’m so sorry.” He finally said, squeezing your intertwined hands. “I thought I’d have to tear the city down to find you. Those women are the only reason I knew where to look.”
“Don’t apologize, Frank.” You sighed, dropping your forehead against his shoulder. “Just don’t treat me like I’m breakable after this, okay? I can handle myself. I lost control of a situation ‘s all.”
Frank scoffed, anger flaring under layers of concern.
“Lost control of a situation?” The gruff tone he was using pulled your gaze to his again. “You threw yourself into harm’s way, without backup. That wasn’t losing control, that was just stupidity.”
Your eyebrows furrowed in anger, but you kept a tight hold on his hand.
“It was either me or them, Frank. What would you have me do? I won’t let innocent people get hurt. You would’ve done the same thing.”
Frank shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you? You were so far up your own ass back there that I barely made it in time to get those women. If you’d followed the plan, we wouldn’t have had to do any of this.”
“That’s not fair, Frank. I did what I thought was right. I couldn’t just leave those women.”
“Right?” Frank stood, dropping your hands and stomping across the room. “For who? Not for me!”
Frank realized he was being unfair, but he was so angry at you for risking yourself that he couldn’t stop the word vomit from bubbling out of his mouth.
“My family’s gone. They’re gone. My friends barely fucking tolerate me. I only have you. You’re my entire life, and you decided tonight was the night to be a fucking superhero? I was right there. I could’ve helped! And now you’re staring at me with those ridiculously beautiful eyes of yours, expecting me to understand your reasoning for almost getting yourself killed? Get the fuck out of here.”
He waved a hand, pacing back and forth as you stared blankly at him.
“You...” You started, narrowing your eyes at him. “You think my eyes are beautiful?”
Frank momentarily paused his pacing to shoot you a narrowed look before continuing.
“That’s what you got from that, huh?” He chuckled, shaking his head.
Frank tried to ignore the way your chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace. What the fuck was he doing?
“Well, you’ve never called me beautiful before.” You pointed out. “What the fuck does that mean, Frank?”
Frank clenched his fists, unable to stop himself.
“It means that I love you, and you’re so fucking aggravating sometimes that I can’t remember why I love you, and then you look at me the way you’re looking at me now, and it feels like coming up for air after drowning. I look at you, and I can breathe again.”
Frank dropped to his knees in front of the couch, eye to eye with you. The conversation he’d had with himself earlier about keeping things casual with you felt a million years away. He couldn’t hold it in anymore, especially after almost losing you. The weight of what he’d almost lost, what he’d already lost, was too heavy, and he was tired.
“You don’t have to love me back. But you can’t put yourself at risk again, sweetheart. I can’t lose another person. I can’t lose you.” He added, pleading.
The room filled with silence, and Frank’s heart began to crack. He’d ruined it, and now he was going to pay for it.
“I’m sor-” He started.
You surged forward, pressing your lips to his in a bruising kiss. He didn’t let himself second guess it. His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling your face against his even harder.
He finally had you in his arms, and he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. Or ever. And from the way you wrapped your arms around his neck, he figured the feeling was mutual.
