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#soft frank
mrsswaino · 2 years
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hear.
frank castle x f!reader.
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warnings : 18+, smut, pwp, penetration, fingering. (i think that’s it??)
thank every single one of yall for 700!! shit is fucking crazy. so since i was mia when i hit 600 i offer this - and ofc my inbox is open and hoping yall send sum shit to me lmao. anyway this is sum slight (sum i wrote sleep deprived) i have to offer for now - ima try to post soon yall i swear. (likes, reblogs, n comments appreciated ofc)
frank placed several kissed on your jaw, and neck, before parting temporarily to strip you of your clothes. he continued to place several more sporadic kisses along your chest until a groan left his lips at the feelings of your damp panties. he was quick to remove the barrier before flipping you onto your stomach.
his hands fell to your hips before pulling them towards him and pushing your head into the pillows, before sayi- demanding you stay. you can feel his fingers prodding at your entrance, and he lets out a light chuckle at your gasp of surprise.
“gotta relax, baby” he quips, laying a kiss to your back “how ya’ gonna take my cock?”
his fingers begin to curl into you and you find yourself opting to ignore the question all together. his thumb begins to haphazardly circle around your clit, before he speeds the pumping of his fingers. a quiet whimper leaves your mouth, and for a moment frank pauses.
“ya’ gonna lemme hear ya’?” he questions before continuing his prior actions.
you let out a slight hum, but it still doesn’t take long for the pumps of his fingers to become lazy before he’s bringing them to his lips. you can feel the bed moving, and you’re shocked when his hand lands on your ass, and you let out a light yelp at the feeling.
“said, ya’ gonna lemme hear ya’?” except this time it seems to be more of a statement.
you once again reply with a hum that clearly leaves him dissatisfied, and his cock trails up and down your slit before entering your cunt abruptly. you let out a slight gasp at the feeling but it’s nothing compared to what frank had wanted, and his hand lands on your ass again relatively harsher. the noise that leaves your lips brings a slight smirk to his face and he's pulling your back to his chest by your hips. the thrusts of his hips speed up, he once again makes haphazard circles around you clit.  while his thrusts and the grip he has on you is rough, he finds himself laying gentle kisses to the back of your neck.
whimpers start to continuously fall from your lips, and the knot in your stomach is becoming a bit too much to ignore. the slight buck of your hips tells frank your close, and the stutter of his tells you he’s close. whatever your were trying to say comes out as mindless babbles, and you cant help but give up on your comment. as you begin to feel your high take over you feel franks thrusts slow.
“attagirl, lemme hear ya.’” frank stutters out as his thrusts come to a stop.
a/n : WOO FUCKIN 700 BITCH
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a/n : put something in my asks so i can stop being mia lmao
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spookyswings · 10 months
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rodrikstark · 2 years
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bestie ro, love of my life, we need to talk about this 🥺
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this is domestic behavior!!! husband!!! mmfmffmm 😖💕💕 sleepy tired grumpy!!! aaaa i want to scramble eggs while he takes care of coffee and no one's talkin' but our hips are bumping 🥺🥺
i feel frank is one of those "please don't speak to me until i've had my coffee" kind of guys and i very much am NOT
SO i'm picturing like trying to make a fancy french omelet for the nth time and i'm a little frustrated 😥 and frank is like mary's gonna like it either way and i'm like why don't you have any flaky sea salt!! and he's just like 😴☕
he doesn't like talking in the morning but yes he does accept affectionate lil hip bumps and shqueeeezing his waist while he pours mary's cereal
if i think too hard about domestic life with frank... like...... lazy morning weekends??? i will literally??? implode
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saintmurd0ck · 2 years
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Happy 200 peeps day!
✨How about a song for soft, chilling domestic Frank? ♥️
hi love, thank you so much for sending in this ask !! <3
okay i dont think soft frank gets talked about a whole lot, so i am very excited for this!
i can see him in the living room, one hand around your waist while the other holds up your hand, your neck nuzzled in his shoulder as he presses against you. you're dancing together, listening to music, lost in each other's presences
one of the songs would definitely, definitely be 'i dont want to miss a thing' by aerosmith
join my 200 follower celebration ➶ 。˚ °
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thekidsfromyestergay · 5 months
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Just saw a video like "um actually rocky horror isn't good queer representation because frank sexually assaults janet" girl he kills and eats people. It's called the rocky HORROR picture show not the rocky cute gay rep tw t-slur picture show
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clownsuu · 11 months
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i never leave asks but i NEED to say that ur interpretation of wally is the best i’ve seen in the fandom and my absolute favorite hdkgnskgs like hell yea go completely unhinged u tiny fucking freak /affectionate
in love with ur art in general <3
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WHEEZE lmao thanks my guy! I try my best to appropriately display wally to the best of my ability
cw obsessive/possessive behavior
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He’s just a lil silly, maybe even a lil goofy (and dare I say, even a lil quirky-?)
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feralforfrank · 16 days
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simon riley definitely brings back souvenirs from all the places he's been during missions.
he mostly does it so you get distracted and not fuss over him gaining a new stab wound or bullet scar every time he comes home. and he thinks he does a real good job, as he pulls it out of his bag and shows it to you. but you're not stupid, and you end up scolding him for thinking you wouldn't notice his limping.
his favourite souvenirs are magnets — your fridge is filled to the brim with them — and shirts or hats that have some kind of pun with a country's name, or just the simple i love [city name].
he'll never admit it, but he spends way too much time (when he has it) trying to pick a gift. tells the employee to wrap it carefully and does his best not to break the easily breakable things. watching your smile, bright and wide, when he shows you what he's bought, keeps him going.
— i need him in a way that is concerning everyone around me. yelling, screaming, biting my fists, and crying real tears.
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there was no place in nature we could meet ; suguru geto
synopsis; it’s never fun to run into an ex. especially when the ex in question is your unfairly handsome high school sweetheart — who also just so happens to be a wanted mass murderer.
word count; 3.3k
contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, geto-typical angst, exes to [redacted], lots of longing, geto is kind of a cunt but also disgustingly charming, reader is understandably upset, biblical imagery (i just think he’s so serpent coded), curse user geto is his own warning tbh
a/n; i wanted this to be a drabble so bad but it ended up just a little too long for me to get away w it so … :’3 yeah. i hate suguru geto (said w affection)
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the moon is out.
in the shadows of the street corner you find yourself in, seated comfortably on the sidewalk, it’s a welcome distraction. something to look at, in the midst of your loneliness; the evanescent glow of the moon, illuminating your solitude.
a solitude soon to be broken. shattered into pieces, battered and bruised beyond recognition, jagged shards littering the asphalt. digging into the soles of your shoes.
”hey.”
for a second, you think you must be dreaming.
the figure obscuring the light of the lamp post in front of you is familiar. too familiar, a little too dear for your liking. as you grasp your shitty cup ramen, seeking the warmth seeping through the polystyrene, all you can do is stare. blinking dumbly, drowsily.
geto looks something like a bad omen.
sharp facial features, even sharper eyes. so dark they almost shift from an amber-tainted cedar into an obsidian black — two abysses, staring into your soul, beckoning you closer. they were always enchanting, but now you think they look almost hypnotizing. not at all in a good way. dark hair frames his face, cascading down his back, longer than you remember it being. and he’s wearing robes.
still has those fucked up bangs, though. of all the things to keep.
the gears of your mind turn, endlessly, untangling the mess of thoughts inside your brain. ensuring you that no, you are not hallucinating, and no, you didn’t fall into a deep slumber somewhere between the moment you exited the convenience store and sat down by one of tokyo’s empty street corners. this is real. a reality you can’t comprehend, can’t even begin to process.
what stands in front of you is a ghost. but ghosts don’t exist, can’t be seen, can’t touch the living.
(so how is he able to haunt you like this?)
what eventually jolts you out of your silent stupor is not the questioning tilt of his head, nor the suffocating sensation of your heart crawling up your throat, but the feeling of soft fur against your leg. the stray cat you met further down the street meows at you, sweetly, trying to get your attention. you think she must be asking for more grilled fish.
so, completely ignoring the apparition in front of you, you turn to reach for the little plastic bag you bought as a midnight snack — digging out a bit of fish for the kitty to enjoy. she seems happy, settling down by your feet. purring softly.
geto watches, eerily silent. 
(maybe he’s upset that you’re ruining his dramatic entrance. you hope so.)
finally, you have no choice but to look at him. a lump forms in the back of your throat, clogging up a little more for every second spent falling into the trap he’s laid out for you, trailing over his moonlit features with your tired gaze.
mouth full of noodles, staring holes into his attire, you narrow your eyes. suddenly disgruntled.
his lips quirk up. ”something the matter?” he asks, and you can’t even begin to describe how much you hate his voice. how devastatingly deep it is, during the late hours of the night. even deeper than it was back in high school. 
slurping up the soggy noodles, you lean back a little, licking some broth off your lips. finally meeting those abyssal eyes. 
”… i was gonna say those robes look like shit on you,” you exhale, weary, ”but you actually kinda pull them off. that’s…” 
a beat. you struggle to find the right word. 
”annoying.”
geto’s lips curl up, smoothly, and you find a hint of familiar amusement in the vague crinkle of his eyes. barely visible crows’ feet. then he’s moving — plopping down right beside you, robes fluttering with the breeze.
”thanks,” he hums. crossing his legs.
the silence that festers around you is odd. not quite suffocating, nor especially fragile. definitely not comforting. it’s familiar, yet different, and it hurts a bit more than it should. but you choose to look at him, out of the corner of your eye, and he looks right back at you. still smiling. 
when your eyes settle on the particular cloth wrapped around his torso, you just barely manage to bite back a taunting chuckle.
”a gojo-kesa, huh?” you grin, and geto doesn’t flinch. he doesn’t miss the meaningful glint in your eyes, either. almost satirical. ”you miss him that much?”
”just a coincidence,” is all he answers. smiling, but you think it looks a little stiff.
your grin widens, for a second, before settling back down. a sad transition. you let it go. 
”whatever you say, geto.”
at that, he visibly reacts. barely noticeable, but it’s there — a twitch of his lithe fingers, an unknown something that flickers through the scope of his iris. when he looks at you, a neutral smile is playing at his lips. 
”ah. i take it we’re not on first name basis anymore, then?” he asks, jovial. hiding a tinge of something mildly displeased.
a shrug. you pick at what’s left of your ramen with your chopsticks, a little too nauseous to enjoy it. ”call me whatever you want. i just don’t see suguru when i look at you, y’know?” leaning forward, you begin to pet the kitty by your feet. ”he was sweeter.”
geto smiles. almost a grin, but not quite there. a chuckle spills out from his lips, and something about it irritates you. ”was he?”
”yeah,” you nod. without hesitation. a summer-stained memory blooms behind your eyelids, but you try not to look at it. all you catch is a glimpse of cherry blossoms. ”you just seem bitter.” 
the grin that finds its way onto your lips is self-deprecating. a shadow falls over your face. ”guess we’re similar in that way, huh?”
a hum buzzes in his throat. he casts a meaningful glance towards your hand, scratching behind the cat’s ear. ”oh, i don’t know about that,” he drawls, smile growing. ”.. you seem just as sweet as always.”
to your grave annoyance, you can’t control the way your face changes at his words. a twitch of your lips gives away your discontentment, and something sour settles on the tip of your tongue.
(your blood begins to boil, beneath your skin.)
geto sighs, suddenly, filling the tense silence surrounding you. a little theatrical. ”ah, but that’s a shame.” he turns to you, soft pout playing at his lips. ”i was hoping i could hear you call me suguru again…”
”— i was hoping you’d come back.”
a beat.
(somewhere outside your vision, a crow takes flight into the night sky. swallowed by the darkness, melting into the sea of black. no longer perceivable, by you or the world.)
”but you never did,” the polystyrene of the plastic cup crinkles beneath your fingers. your eyes look dull. ”so what the fuck do you want, exactly?”
”i heard.” geto rests his jaw on the heel of his palm, gazing at you with those piercing eyes. like he’s trying to see inside your brain. ”.. about your decision.”
”ah,” a grin splits across the curve of your lips, showing off the white of your teeth. ”of course. that’s what this is about, huh?”
with groggy movements, you throw away your nearly-empty cup of noodles, haphazardly aiming towards a trash can across the street. it bounces off the steel cover, landing on the ground with a soft thud. leftover broth spilling out across the pavement.
(geto doesn’t bother to hide his amusement, lips twitching upwards as one of his curses goes to pick it up. you furrow your brows in embarrassed annoyance.)
a moment passes, and something in you knows that he’s waiting. it’s like you can practically sense it, like it’s etched into your bones. the same way you always knew exactly when he would begin to get impatient during your nightly convenience store runs in high school, after you had spent about five minutes struggling to decide what kind of chips you wanted. 
”what can i say,” you lean back, palms against the rough concrete. breathing in the midnight air. ”you inspired me.”
geto tilts his head. smiling. always, always smiling. he smiled at you the day before he massacred that village, too. ”oh?”
with a deep breath, cool air courses through your body. burning your lungs. ”i realized being a sorcerer is completely fucking meaningless,” you exhale through your nose. ”and that trying to change that fact is even more meaningless.” 
a wicked, rueful grin rests on your lips. ”so i left.”
geto doesn’t say anything, so you continue. voice dripping with venom.
”i’m a civilian now,” you purr, mocking. a sardonic coo cast his way. ”does that bother you? feel like killing me?”
his smile looks a little off, now. tilted in a direction you don’t want to recognize. you don’t care to examine it further, don’t care to figure out if it might look just a little bit sad, because that’d only hurt more.
so you look away.
a click of his tongue. then he speaks, with that honeyed voice, raspy and husky. almost a groan. ”well, i can’t say i approve.”
he’s looking at you. sharp eyes digging into your skin, dissecting you, a million words he expects you to grasp from that look alone.
”you’re better than them,” he states, and you try not to squirm when his eyes trail over your features. ”worlds better.” his voice sounds almost motherly, a twisted concern that makes you cower a little. like he’s scolding you. a crease between his brows.
”i don’t like the thought of you surrounded by these animals.”
a huff pushes past your lips, but it sounds shakier than you’d like it to. you hope he just chalks it up to the chill of the air. then again, when has he ever made anything easy for you?
”what, you got a problem with cats now?” you reach for the little furball licking grilled fish off the concrete, picking it up. cradling it close. ”gonna go on a cat-killing spree?”
an amused exhale. geto narrows his eyes. ”funny,” he hums, but his eyes say you know what i mean.
it takes you a moment to regain control over your breathing. there’s still something tense in your shoulders, and your heart still feels a little like it might jump out of your throat and crawl into his lap. the stray cat slips from your grasp, moving towards geto, curiously sniffing at his robes. he looks at it with no ill intent, and it puts you at ease.
”well, i appreciate the concern, buddy,” you pat his back, trying not to flinch at the contact. trying to appear relaxed. ”but frankly, i don’t give a shit. i actually like my job, unlike literally every single sorcerer on planet earth.”
geto stills.
”.. buddy?” he echoes, ignoring every other bitter word you just graced him with. for some reason, he actually seems visibly bothered. ”i’m buddy now?”
you click your tongue. muttering, tiredly. a little exasperated. ”.. what else would you be?”
and then he smiles, again. only this time, it looks oddly genuine. the same as you remember, framed by cherry blossoms and the fizzle of youth.
his movements are smooth. like he’s completely unguarded, like this situation doesn’t bother him in the slightest. elegant, in the way he leans back, palms on the concrete to support his weight. keeping eye contact with you, all the while.
when he speaks, his voice has a sweet tinge to it. nostalgic, maybe. wistful. if you hear a touch of longing, you choose to ignore it.
”i seem to recall you calling me baby quite a lot,” he hums, and you stiffen. gritting your teeth. eyes darkening, but he continues. ”what else was there? angel, i think… it was sweet.”
then he’s leaning forward. scratching the cat under its chin, gently. ”ironic, though.”
an inhale. then, an exhale. they’re a little shaky, a little meek, but at least they make the lump in your throat feel less like it’s blocking your windpipe. air fills your lungs, but it tastes like nothing at all. 
something like sorrow simmers in your eyes. or maybe more like fatigue. god, you really want to cry.
(you wonder if he gets some sickening satisfaction out of seeing you like this, out of breaking you. maybe it just makes him feel rotten. you don’t know what you’d prefer.)
”suguru,” you murmur, at last. voice dripping with exhaustion. defeated, the sigh that flows from your lips. ”why did you come here?”
”join me.”
the words spill out into the open air, slicing the silence in half. heavy. a request, not a question. against your better judgement, you turn your head to meet his gaze.
”we could use you,” he says, and there’s hope in those keen eyes. he maintains his distance, but for some reason you still feel like prey being sized up by a predator. like he’s weighing your value.
a chuckle slips from your lips, but there’s no humour to it. ”use me…” you echo, a tired murmur under your breath. ”you're just straight up admitting it, huh? kinda refreshing.”
”that’s not what i meant.”
he inches closer. slowly, as if trying not to scare you. reaching out, to brush through your bangs, his fingertips ghosting over your skin. tangling them between your locks, inserting himself into your space. testing the waters. 
you don’t look at him, completely still. barely breathing. like a wounded animal.
”i want you there,” he says, and it comes out almost as a whisper. ”with us.”
unable to resist the temptation, you indulge in a single brief glance his way. his eyes look warm, and his lips look soft as they part.
”with me.” 
there’s a devotion to his voice when he continues, one he’s always had. one you thought you’d always be able to trust. ”i’ll create a world where you can be happy,” he vows. ”i swear it.”
a moment passes.
(you swallow thickly. it takes everything you have not to burst into tears. when you remember how he brushed you off, back then, it gets a little easier. when you remember all the skipped meals.)
”.. like you give a damn.”
geto smiles. you loathe how soft it looks, how similar it is to the one suguru always had. when you used to eat your ramen too quickly and started choking on it, and he brought a palm to your upper back, patting it gently. he’d chuckle, and tell you to slow down, and the softness of his smile would almost be enough to distract you from the amusement in his eyes. 
”my love.”
you flinch. breath drawing back at the base of your throat, heart screeching to a halt, and some part of you emerges; the shy, sweet kid you used to be. hanging on to his every world. like he was your sun, your guiding light. back when that purr of my love had you blushing furiously, not choking back a string of curses.
it’s sudden, and you can’t react the way you want to. you want to kill him for calling you that. for thinking he has any right to call you his, anymore.
but that sweet, naive, innocent little kid still exists. even if you want to pretend otherwise. it’s there, somewhere, that part of you — peeking out from behind the curtain. and it stops you from saying anything that might hurt him.
(it’s so hard to hate him when he calls you that.)
if geto notices your inner turmoil — he must — then he doesn’t mention it. you don’t say anything, but you hope the amused, harsh exhale you partake in is signal enough for him to cut it off. now.
yet he continues. there’s love in his voice when he speaks, barely contained. if he’s trying not to hurt you he’s doing an awful job.
”… i never stopped thinking of you,” he whispers, so low you almost miss it. ”not once. i left for you, not just for myself.”
and, despite every part of your being resisting it, a sweetness settles on your tongue. so sweet it’s sickening; the thought that maybe he’s telling the truth, maybe he really has been thinking of you. maybe you’re more to him than just a means to meet an end, or a memory yet to be buried.
geto looks at the moon. bathed in moonlight, he looks a little like a god. like something reverent. his voice is honeyed. low, like a secret.
”this world doesn't deserve you.”
silence.
a subtle anger trickles through your veins, a kind of fury, subdued, carefully tucked away. sparking to life inside the depths of your eyes when you look at him. bitter, given everything. but your voice still comes out sounding something like a plea.
”and you think you do?”
another smile. this time, it looks a little sad. remorseful, maybe. ”… let me prove myself.”
his touch burns. the pads of his fingers against your cold skin, cupping your cheek. slithering down to grasp your hand. and you’re pliant, unable to react. just sitting with that aching hollow feeling in your chest.
”i wasn’t worthy, back then,” he hums, bringing your hand to his lips. ”but now…”
a kiss to your knuckle. featherlight. reverent. you try not to shiver, but when he says your name, dragging each syllable out, like they belong on his tongue —
a chill runs down your spine.
when he speaks, you feel his warm breath on your skin. it’s dizzying. ”i’m not the same suguru you once knew,” he admits, a forlorn look in his eyes. and devotion, frighteningly sincere. ”unlike him — i’ll never let you go.”
what a twisted desire. he wants to take you with him, drag you down to hell. the suguru you knew wouldn’t put you through that. but maybe you’re even more twisted, for wishing he had; for wishing he had taken you with him, ten years ago, instead of leaving without a single goodbye.
geto’s voice is soft. coaxing, like he's handling a frightened mouse. join me, he whispers, and you think of eve. when you look at his mouth you think you see serpents’ teeth behind his lips.
(you're almost sure he notices it. and you're almost sure his smile widens, lips curling up, as if preparing to open his maw and swallow you whole.)
a sickening sense of resignation roots itself somewhere in your gut. 
you pull your hand away, and he lets you. the loss of warmth hits you like a freight train, but you aren’t sure you could think clearly with his skin on yours. when you part your lips to speak, only air comes out, just barely forming a sentence. like there are no more words to say. like the world stopped spinning around you both a lifetime ago.
”i don't love you.”
for just a second, his smile falters. 
”.. no?” he hums, and you wish it didn’t hurt so bad to see him hurt. his eyes carry a kind of patience, something gentle. ”it’s fine… these things take time.”
a bitter chuckle. ”like you’d know anything about waiting,” you spit, and it comes out sounding venomous. a phantom ache sprouts in the spot where his lips touched your skin.
geto closes his eyes.
”.. you don't need to love me,” he says, finally. kind. you hate that he still sounds so kind. so understanding, like nothing you do could be wrong in his eyes. ”as long as you're beside me, that's enough.” 
he turns to look at you, and his smile looks very real, for a moment. impossibly fond. ”i have two daughters. i’ve told them about you,” he smiles. ”my family… you’d like them. i know they’d like you.”
dark clouds cover the moon, suddenly, and a shadow falls across you both. illuminated only by the streetlight. in the distance, you hear a car whooshing by.
”don’t stay at the bottom,” he beckons, and your name slips from his lips again. soft, his tongue bending around the vowels. coaxing. stirring your heartstrings like a puppeteer.
then he’s standing up, dusting off his robes, large hands smoothing down the fabric. turning around, towering over you; obscuring everything else. all you see is him, under the glow of the lamp post. a halo of artificial light.
”come. let me show you the world we can create.”
he gives you a sweet smile, two abysses gazing at you. the promise of something, something twisted. something new. forbidden. you think of red skin, yellow flesh. the bite of sin.
and for a second, you see it. the world. a world where laughter comes from the bottom of your gut, and the trees are always ripe for picking, red apples hanging from the branches like glowing rubies. 
paradise.
geto stretches a hand out towards you. fingers unfurling, one by one, like a blooming camellia. close, right there in front of you, so close that you’re tempted to take his hand in yours, let him carry you away. burn everything else to the ground. 
(you think of the serpent. you think of god.
only one of them banished eve.)
”so,” he smiles. ”what do you say?”
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radars-teddy-bear · 4 months
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love that henry blake is genuinely just a normal guy . weirdest thing about him is that he’s obsessed with fishing and that isn’t even remotely as bizarre as anything hawkeye and trapper got going on at any given moment . he’s just some guy from illinois in a camp of people who are bonkers and he’s so fucking funny for it
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amhrosina · 7 months
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thinking of him and him alone <3
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novelconcepts · 1 year
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Something about Dani and Jamie, Bill and Frank, love stories cultivated in the heart of horror. Something about finding queer love, gay love, human and fallible and worth cupping hands around and protecting even in the darkest of times. Something about stumbling into your person when you least expect them, when your mind is fixed firmly on pain and survival, and letting their light open you up. Something about choosing to wake up every day and cherish this person, even when it’s hard, even when they’re being broken down right before your eyes. Something about saying “I am marrying you, not in the eyes of others, but in our hearts where it matters—legality be damned”.
Something about gay love being worth all the strawberries, all the moonflowers, all the persistence and the endings chosen on your own terms. Something about that hits me where it counts.
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my girl
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frank castle x fem!reader
word count: 3.4k
warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI!!! mentions of alcohol consumption, roleplay-ish, exhibitionism/voyeurism, mutual masturbation, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, soft dom!frank, degradation/praise kink, “daddy” and “sir”, overstimulation, squirting, breeding kink, cockwarming if you squint, little aftercare
summary: the game: no touching allowed
A/N: omg hey 🙈 it’s been a while! but I’m back! this is pure filth and I’m not ashamed! we all know Frank Castle would talk you through it!
COMMENTS/REBLOGS/LIKES ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND WELCOMED <;3
DONT COPY OR TRANSLATE MY SHIT.
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It was one of those nights.
The kind where you and Frank attempted to pull your heads out of your asses after a shitty week and have fun for once.
He would argue that his version of fun was only found with a gun in his hand or kevlar strapped to his chest, and he truly meant it at one point, but that was before you, his girl, and he would do anything for his girl— even if it meant indulging you in your own fanatical definition of entertainment.
Your idea of fun, however, was a shitty dive bar that smelled like stale beer, wearing skimpy dresses that you found in adult stores, and pretending like you had never seen Frank a day in your life, imagining he was some hot shot trying to show you a good time.
It started off as a game. Frank didn’t get it at first, struggling with the idea that “pretending” wasn’t lying, it’s not lying, Frank. I still love you. It’s just a game, you have to convince me to come back home with you, but eventually it became a different challenge entirely— it was now healthy competition between the two of you, seeing who could last the longest without touching one another.
And it was one of those nights where you played dirty.
Wearing nothing but a silk slip that left nothing to the imagination and crotchless panties, you expertly navigated around the bar while the music bewitched you, leading you in different directions and drawing men towards your magnetic pull.
It didn’t take much for men to pay attention to you. You knew that, but more importantly, Frank knew that, and he was painfully aware of how alluring you were.
It was all fair game, and he let you have your fun, only finding comfort in knowing that he was the only one who could shove his face into your chest and cunt. That he was the only one that would take you home and pull moans out of you like it was his job. That he was the only one who could bury and empty himself into you and you would take all of it, because you were his girl.
Frank was more possessive than he led on, but it was the only consolation he had while playing your game. He ignored the few stray women that eventually found their way to him with ease. He didn’t enjoy their attention, it almost disgusted him, but he did appreciate the way your jealousy manifested itself.
You knew it was a game, that the blonde woman meant nothing to him, but the jealousy turned you into something else completely.
The envy mixed into the final swig of your drink and went down easily as it burned the back of your throat. The liquid courage warmed you enough to move, and you shuffled down from your perched stool with a fire stirring in your belly.
It wasn’t your fault that your purse conveniently fell from your shoulder, or the way your dress rose above your ass when you bent over to retrieve it, revealing your crotchless panties to the patrons of the bar. It also wasn’t your fault for the dog whistles that pierced through the music, the droopy eyed stares, or the coughing fit that Frank fell victim to as he choked on his beer.
You could practically taste victory, unable to hide the smirk that plastered against your cheeks as you collected your belongings, turning to face him. The win, however, was short lived, and your face fell when you caught his eye, unable to read his darkened expression.
Whether it was the churning alcohol or growing need between your thighs, you found the confidence to hold his gaze, paying attention to the way he slammed his beer back.
Fuck.
The game was over, that much was clear, and your heart hammered against your chest. Maybe you had gone too far this time. Maybe the panties were too much. Maybe he would understand if you apologized and forfeited this time. Maybe—
Fuck.
For a moment, you swore you faced the Punisher. He grew in size and stature, towering over you as he straightened, the random woman falling off of him in return. He was unreadable, almost threatening, but his façade flickered as he subtly nodded towards the door.
Fuck.
The tension was palpable. It practically trailed your wobbly stride as you found your way out of the bar, hiccuping down your anxiety. Frank followed your lead, silently stalking behind you. His presence was looming, and the silence was baiting your wanton anticipation.
“Frank,” you broke character, turning to face him.
His stride never faltered, and he beat you to the truck. “Frank, wait.”
“Ladies first.” The truck door swung open with a creak as Frank all but pulled it from its hinges, eager to usher you into your place.
You must’ve looked uneasy, tottering on the balls of your feet, and he took note of your lip tucked between your teeth.
“It’s okay,” he reassured you with a wink, holding out his hand to help you into your seat.
Yellow street lights hid the warmth in your cheeks as you softened beneath Frank’s gentleness, and you couldn’t help but hide a smirk as you made a final attempt to claim the last word at your own game.
The hem of your dress tickled the back of your thighs as you attempted to climb into the truck, only pausing to pull the rest of your dress over your hips. It was a lousy move given the circumstances— you pretending to busy yourself while exposing your dripping cunt for anyone in the parking lot to see, but you knew it would rile him up in a way that would benefit the both of you. Eventually.
“C’mon now, sweetheart,” Frank groaned at the sight before him, his own pants growing tighter while he studied the way your core glistened.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you quipped innocently. “I’m just looking for my phone.” You spread your legs ever so slightly, silently inviting him to have his way with you.
“That right?” He drew closer with slow, deliberate steps, knowing how much you enjoy the anticipation. It was exciting, and he was so close, and you were offering yourself to him, and the act was slipping…
“Cause I thought maybe it could be in here?” You jump as your purse lands in front of your face with a thud, bouncing in the driver's seat.
“Huh,” you let out an amused chuckle before Frank fit himself against your spread legs, a small gasp escaping your lips as he pressed himself into you, his bulge hitting your clit directly. “Probably is,” you whimpered, dropping your head as a silent thanks to the truck for providing a welcomed new height and angle.
“Probably is?” He questioned, his voice startling as his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. He’s careful not to kiss you fully, not wanting to break the rules of your game, and he forces his arms to land on either side of you, caging you beneath him.
You felt his chest heave against your back and you smile to yourself, relishing in your ability to unravel the Punisher, but the victory is short lived; he unfurls himself from your bent form before delicately pulling your dress back down to cover your ass.
“C’mon.” His palm landed against your supple flesh and you yelped at the unexpected contact. “Let me take you home.”
“I win!” You exclaimed, nearly hitting your head on the inside of the truck.
“What?” He cocked his head to the side with a loose smile.
“I win!” You twisted in your seat to face him, your smile radiating in the dark. “You touched me first. I win.”
“Yeah, whatever.” He playfully shut the door in your face and you laugh, watching his lip curl into a smile as he fakes his own disappointment.
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The door to your bedroom thudded against your weight, the doorknob rattling as you blindly maneuvered your way into your room.
“Frank,” you moaned into his mouth, pulling him impossibly close while stumbling towards your bed. The mattress dipped below your combined weight, Frank hovering over your sprawled frame.
Your hands traveled the length of his body, studying every contour of muscle like you would lose him if he pulled away. “Touch me,” you whispered, catching him by surprise.
“Aht aht,” he laughs into your neck at your demand, his lips attaching to your steady pulse. “You know the rules, babydoll. You gotta finish first before I can touch you.”
“But,” you attempt to refute your own rules.
“You wanna act like a big girl? You can make yourself cum.” He places deliberate kisses down your neck, taking extra care to suck on your delicate skin. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”
It was so patronizing, the condescension sweet and sticky and so contrasting from the way he cradled your head, stroking your hairline before planting a kiss to your temple.
“Yes sir,” you submit willingly, whining when he peels himself away from you.
“Atta girl, you can do it,” he encourages you before settling on his side, adjusting comfortably into your mattress.
His eyes widened as you lifted yourself from the bed, pulling the billowy silk off of your frame before throwing it in his direction. You played into your short-lived victory, tracing your fingertips alongside the curves of your body and cupping your breasts together, letting a moan escape as your fingers brushed your hardened nipples.
It was obvious your ministrations affected Frank, and you watched as he pulled at his jeans, clearing his throat to conceal his grunt.
As much as you loved his response to your body, you can’t help but notice the way your breath catches in your throat while you watch him palm himself through the rough denim. It was a silent invitation for you to do the same, finally realizing how agonizing the ache in between your thighs had grown.
The elastic band of your barely there panties hadn’t made it around your fingers before Frank interrupted.
“Leave 'em on,” he huffed a laugh. “Ain’t hiding shit anyway.”
Your cheeks flushed at his enthusiasm, and you sheepishly found your place on the bed, your bare back resting against the headboard. It was only then when you realized how exposed you truly were, and you pressed your thighs together for some semblance of modesty.
“What’s the matter?” he teased. “You nervous or somethin’?”
“Mhm,” you nod your head, stifling a moan when your thighs instinctively clench together, adding just enough pressure against your already sensitive clit.
“Funny,” he chuckled, “cause you sure as hell weren’t shy before.” He was right, and you knew it, your skin consequently growing warm as he spotlighted your cheap plays at winning. “So go on,” he continues, “show me how a pretty whore like you wants to be touched.”
The expletive took you by surprise, but you obeyed shamelessly. Eagerly. Spreading your legs open as an offering to the man who watched just a few feet away as your fingers dipped between your thighs, pressing gently against your clit.
“Fuck,” you moaned, your lip finding its place between your teeth.
“That feel good, sweetheart?” Frank cooed towards you, his tongue darting across his bottom lip while his eyes flash between your scrunched face and drenched fingertips.
“Yes,” you whisper.
“What was that?” He goaded.
“Yes, daddy,” you correct yourself. “Feels… so good.”
He moaned alongside you, grunting as he pulled himself out of the confines of his pants. You watched unabashedly as he spit into his palm before pumping his already weeping cock, the sight only pushing you closer towards your orgasm.
You made no attempts at hiding your pleasure.
“Fuck,” you whined, grinding your hips as your fingers circled your clit.
“There you go, that’s it,” Frank matched your pace, stroking his length as he spurred you on. “That’s my good girl, makin’ that pussy feel so good for daddy.”
“It feels so good,” your head fell against the headboard with a thud, but you hardly noticed. His gaze felt like fire creeping up your body as he studied you with anticipation. “I’m close,” you squeaked.
“Yeah? You’re doin’ so good, pretty girl,” he praised.
Your fingers worked tirelessly as you chased the familiar feeling, and you held your breath as the pressure grew.
“Attagirl, look at you. Just like that,” he bit his own lip while fisting his cock. “Be a good girl and cum for me.
“I’m gonna cum,” you croak out, too busy concentrating on the budding climax to notice the way Frank savored your rising chest and your fingers working your dripping cunt.
“That’s it, cum for daddy.”
It was overwhelming and you were unprepared for his attention, all but crying out as he expertly ran a thick finger between your folds before plunging into you. He hooked himself to your core while manually pulling your orgasm from your body, never breaking a steady rhythm.
“Fuck, don’t stop!” Your body stiffened and you held onto Frank’s forearm as your pleasure uncoiled and gushed from your core.
There was no time to process what happened or to even catch your breath; he clasped onto your ankles, pulling you closer to him before he delved into your wetness, collecting all of you on his tongue, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit.
“Frank!” you jumped at the sensitivity.
“Taste so good sweetheart,” he adjusted accordingly, continuing his languid strokes and moaning into the taste of your pussy.
You can’t help but ride out your high and grind against his tongue as he laps up the remnants of your orgasm, shuddering at each flick of his tongue against your clit.
It was too much and not enough all at the same time. He was close, but you needed him closer.
“I want you,” you reached down, pulling him to your lips. He moaned as your teeth nipped and sucked at his lower lip, savoring the taste of your arousal.
“What’s that?” He baited you, all but ripping his clothes from his body.
“I, fuck-“ you moaned as he lightly tapped his heavy cock against your swollen nub before trailing himself through your folds. “I want you, Frankie.”
“You do?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“I don’t really believe you, sweet girl,” he softened ever so slightly at the name, and you almost believed he would be merciful and indulge you, but his jaw tightened and his expression hardened in front of you. “Beg for it.”
Although deserved, it was a cruel, cruel punishment.
“I want you to fuck me,” you began, jutting your hips towards his cock sliding against you. “I want you to use me.”
He moaned at that— the way you submitted yourself to him, spreading your legs further apart to tease him into submission, waiting for him to break.
“I want you to fill me up and make me yours,” you snaked your hand between your bodies and guided his cock into your drenched cunt.
A hiss filled the room as he buried himself into you in one motion, and you groaned at the sudden sensation. He met your every need and ache, leaving you breathless and with double vision. Completely entranced by the delicious fullness.
“This what you wanted?” He growled into your ear, his body hovering over yours as he thrusted with precision. “Wanted me to use you like a good little slut?”
Your response was guttural, and you grabbed onto any part of him, pulling him in for more, more, more.
“Feels so fuckin’ good,” his lips brushed the soft curve of your neck. “Like that pussy was just made for me, ain’t that right?”
Of course it was right, every fiber of your being screamed out for him. He was insatiable, and it would never be enough.
“S-so good,” you stuttered through chattering teeth, attempting to focus your gaze on his face. “Feels so good, you feel so good.”
“God, look at you,” he cooed. “Already fucked out, huh? Have you had enough, sweetheart?”
You almost said yes; each thrust of his hips was a coordinated attack against your g spot, and you were debilitated, barely able to conjure words, let alone sentences.
“No,” you mustered. “Need you to use me, please.”
His brows creased together, your request causing him to teeter towards his own pleasure.
“You’re doin’ so good for me. Takin me like such a good girl,” he spit on his fingers before rubbing circles over your clit. “Want you to cum with me. Can you do that?”
“Mhm,” you didn’t think it was possible, but dammit you would try. You squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to draw the scattered pieces of your brain together to revel in his movements, becoming pliable in his hands.
“That’s it,” he grunted, enjoying the sight of his length disappearing into your dripping pussy. “Takin’ me so well, that’s my girl.”
You moaned at his praise, relishing in the way he claimed you both physically and verbally. He knew you were close, and you knew he was closing in on his precipice. He could feel the way you pulsed around him, beckoning his own release, and he gave into you completely.
“Cum for me, daddy.”
It came out so sweet he thought he imagined it.
“Keep talkin’ like that and I will,” he squeezed his eyes shut as if it would prolong the pleasure.
“Cum in my pussy, please. I need you.” You whimpered as you replaced his fingers with your own, chasing your own release while cupping his neck to bring his lips to yours. “So close,” you whined.
“‘Want daddy to fill that pretty pussy up, hm?” He mumbled into your open mouth.
“Yes sir.”
You were so close. It was right there.
“Be a good girl and cum with me.”
The room erupted in a cacophony of moans and you were sure flames had licked your skin. Your thighs shook against their will as your orgasm rolled over you, radiating between your bodies.
“Attagirl, there it is.” Frank admired the way your body responded to him, the way you clung to him while your eyes rolled back and your mouth hung agape. You were so beautiful sprawled out, and he gripped onto your fleshy hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him.
“Fuck!” He groaned into the side of your neck as you pulsed around him, his thrusts growing sloppy before he spilled into you.
There was a moment of clarity between your blissful haze where you became aware of his presence, and the incessant need to have him closer overshadowed everything.
“So good,” you cupped his face, ignoring the way his stubble tickled your palms before pressing your trembling lips to his.
“So good,” he repeated, his nose pressing into yours while your lips met. “Did so good for me.”
He carefully pulled himself from you, never breaking the kiss even as you hissed. He simply ran a large hand along your head before looking over you.
“You okay sweetheart?”
You gave a drowsy, heavy-lidded smile with a shaky thumbs up from beneath him and he chuckled before placing a chaste kiss along your sternum and settling on top of you.
The added weight was welcomed and comforted you, acting as some grounding agent to bring you back together. It was the same for Frank; he clung to you, his arms wrapping around your fleshy frame while his fingertips pressed into you, memorizing each curve and contour of your body.
You followed suit, running your fingertips along the lines of muscles and splatters of raised scars before lazily squeezing him. He hummed when you grazed your nails along his scalp and nestled into your chest accordingly.
“I’m sorry for earlier,” you sleepily confess.
“Don’t worry bout it.”
“You’re not upset?”
“Nah.” His eyes remained closed, much to your confusion.
You were quiet for a moment, not fully understanding his answer. He knew you were quizzical. He didn’t need to look at you to know your face was scrunched and your eyebrows creased while you attempted to do the mental math behind his answer.
“Ain’t mad cause you’re my girl,” he beat you to it. “Unless you got somethin’ to tell me.” You could feel his smile against your chest.
“No I don’t,” you relaxed. “I’m your girl.”
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bongwateriero · 1 year
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anyone else been feeling this genre of frank image recently
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rodrikstark · 1 year
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Who's most likely to carry your bags after going grocery shopping/buying stuff you don't need just because it makes you happy?
Who's most likely to have dinner waiting for you when you get home from a long day (even if it's just takeout)?
Who's most likely to remember those very specific favorite things like childhood TV shows, brand and flavor of gum, the grocery store and gas station locations you prefer, etc?
Who's most likely to not fold or hang the laundry and to just leave it in a pile on the bed/couch/chair/floor or in the dryer?
(As for characters... Joaquin, Steve, Frank, or Sam!)
🥹🥹 have i ever explicitly said how these are my four bestest favoritest boys? thank u nonnie!!
carry your bags
joaquín!! i think he likes to flex, both physically (the man's got nice arms) and just to show off the fact that he can and does and likes to take care of you. he knows he did a good job if you're like, practically skipping to the car and talking about all the things you're gonna do with your new stuff, or snapping pictures of your haul 😖😖 yeah. he gets all soft for that
dinner after a long day
i hate to always assign the cooking ones to sam but he litcherally is 😭 the man knows the importance of a good meal to give you both a satisfying end to your day!! he tries to cook, but cap is a busy bee so there's a lot more takeout than he would like. sometimes you play this game where on your way home, you get the main meal while sam gets the side dish (or vice versa) and you try to surprise each other 🥺 or maybe you go to the same restaurant but you make it a rule where you both have to order something new. idk 🙈🙈 u just know sam cares so much about food and what it means to have dinner together every night he's not off being a superhero 🥹🥹 i'm so soft
remembering your favorite things
stevie boy and his super soldier memory!! 😙😙💕 he'll always slip your favorite childhood snack or treat into your basket before checking out at a grocery or corner store, or put on some song that you forgot you loved when you're feeling a lil sad 🥺💕
not fold laundry
frank. it's funny how this is the least impressive prompt and yet this absolute bless-this-mess of a man still owns my heart. personally i'm not mad at him for it bc i don't believe in folding most pieces of laundry? LOL. maybe you always make it a thing to fold laundry together while listening to music/podcasts, so he has to wait for you 🥰
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brandycranby · 7 months
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me thinks we need to discuss big beefy men holding tiny tiny babies 🧐
ari having skin-to-skin time with his little one, the surge of protectiveness as they hold his finger in sleep, rising and falling with his chest 😖💕
frank 🥺 best dad/uncle frank with baby mary, covered in formula and spit up but still trying his best while juggling his office hrs and lectures
jakey with his niece swinging from his arms!! glasses crooked!! ik he would be such a good papa 😣 yeah he silly but when he holds that baby for the first time..
andy in the nursery past midnight, standing vigil by the crib and stroking a soft chubby cheek 😭 he just needs to know his baby's ok!!
steve with his baby!! so small!! they take her away for observation bc the serum didnt pass to her and she has to stay in nicu 😫 him looking through the glass and promising to always always keep her safe
@babyjakes bc u put this in my head 😣 @punemy-spotted bc this is totally Steve & Liddol territory, actually everyone heckin' chime in bc im tired of ppl not actually talking on main!!! come shake me by the lapels and yell about baby fever
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gayclubsoap · 5 months
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the gang as fruit
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dennis - banana
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dee - guava
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frank - pomegranate
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charlie - kiwi
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mac - pineapple
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