Chicken Shop Date

[GUNSHOT] [CAR CRASH] [BOOM] [PEOPLE SCREAMING] [SIRENS] [GLASS BREAKS] [DISTANT YELLING] [EXPLOSION] [HELICOPTERS AND NEWS TRUCKS] “...WE’RE REPORTING LIVE FROM THE SCENE—“ [AMBULANCE SIRENS] “MY LEG... MY LEG”

On Irish trains we have train magazines for some reason and I would like to inform u that hozier is on the cover

I feel like if Dean was allowed to form his own music taste independently from John winchester he'd be really into Brazilian funk

Pay No Attention to the Magizoologist

Theseus Scamander x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Requested by anon!

Fandom: Harry Potter

Summary: Y/N and Newt have been friends for a long time, and for almost as long, Y/N has also had a crush on Newt’s older brother Theseus. Years and years later, after their Hogwarts days, several run-ins with Grindelwald, the death of Leta Lestrange, and the wedding of Queenie and Jacob, Newt is still subverting Ministry rules in the name of helping his creatures. And, as usual, Y/N is an accomplice in his schemes. So, when Newt goes running out the door with his creatures and Jacob in tow, it falls to Y/N to distract Theseus and keep him from following Newt’s trail. And this distraction might just lead to a bigger change than any of them bargained for.

Word Count: 2,439

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Keep reading

— THE GIFT

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — You were born to be Feyd-Rautha's wife. You arrive to Giedi Prime to get adjusted to the new environment before your wedding. Your betrothed is trying to court you properly... but he only knows The Harkonnen ways of doing so.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — After a whole month of writing Thrown To The Wolves, I felt weird writing something with Feyd with a different Reader and a different plot. 🙈 But at the same time I was excited to explore a new scenario. 😄

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, blood, death

WORD COUNT — 3,700

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THE GIFT

Giedi Prime was an unfriendly place – cold and colourless, nearly lifeless as well. The people you were seeing reminded you of machines more than humans. You were terrified as you realised you’d spent the rest of your life there. The Harkonnens were even worse. Rude, harsh, not very talkative. Your future husband had looked you up and down on your first day in a way that turned your blood cold.

You missed home. You missed your family. But you knew it was impossible to ever go back. You could run away – if you somehow managed to bribe the servants to help you – but it was impossible to hide from your destiny. You had been born to be Feyd-Rautha’s wife, and most importantly, to give birth to his child.

You were a daughter of an important Lord, therefore you weren’t opposed to the idea of an arranged marriage. You knew nothing else was waiting for you in this world and no one would ever let you marry a person of your choice. But why was Feyd-Rautha your betrothed? Out of all the people in the galaxy, why did you have to be promised to a Harkonnen?

Ever since you had been a little girl, your friends had been teasing you about it. Repeating the dreadful gossip about Giedi Prime and your betrothed who had become a famous and dangerous gladiator in the meantime. And now you were finding out that the gossip was not true – reality was even worse than anything you had heard and expected of this place and of this man.

You were supposed to spend three months on Giedi Prime before your wedding, away from your home and family, to adjust to the environment and the customs. Then the wedding would take its place and you’d become the na-baroness of The Harkonnens.

On your first morning you were woken up with breakfast brought to your bed by the servants.

“Why can’t I eat with my husband’s family in the dining room?” You asked them while sitting up and resting on your pillows.

The pale and bald women looked at each other significantly. Everyone looked the same here, you felt like a freak.

“Baron Harkonnen and his nephews do not eat their meals together, unless it is a special occasion, a banquet of some sort,” one of them explained. “Everyone eats their meals in their own private chambers.”

“I see,” you nodded and sighed at the sight of the food. It was as colourless as everything around. You missed the bowls of fruit and yoghurts you had been getting on your homeplanet.

After swallowing the last bit of your breakfast, you took a shower and let your new servants dress you up. The Harkonnens had requested for you to leave all your clothes and personal belongings at home. They wanted you to be as detached from your old self as possible. You were gifted a whole wardrobe of new outfits instead. All black.

You wondered if they’d ask you to shave your head, too. You dreaded that. Your hair was like an armour you could hide under. Your servants had no idea how to manage it so they left it loose. You brushed it with your fingers since there was no brush.

When you saw yourself in the mirror you thought that on your homeplanet you’d be called a feral woman. In a black, long dress, hair unkempt and dark bags under your exhausted and empty eyes that lacked any sort of emotion.

You were supposed to have classes about The Harkonnen culture. You had been studying it since you were a little girl but they did not trust your progress and they wanted to test you in a more practical sense. Your teacher was an old man with a contemptuous smirk, a close advisor of the Baron and most likely his spy.

He had been asking you questions for the past hour to which you answered perfectly well. It was becoming difficult for him to hide his surprised facial expression.

“You’ve been trained well, my Lady,” he admitted.

“This is all that has been expected of me,” you explained with a nod, your voice was hollow and emotionless as you realised how true your words had been. Your whole personality was limited to be the future Harkonnen Baroness ever since you had been a little girl. You couldn’t possibly tell what you would be like under different circumstances. You had never been given a chance to find out.

“Very well then,” he hummed to himself. “I’d like you to roam freely around the fortress and try not to get lost. Tomorrow during our class you will ask me questions about the things and places that made you curious,” he informed you and bowed down before leaving the room.

You looked around, expecting someone to fetch you but no one was coming. He had to actually mean that you were allowed to roam freely around the fortress. Carefully, you left the room and chose to turn right. You had arrived from the left side of the corridor so you were naturally more curious about the right side and exploring a brand new territory.

You were too scared to try to push any doors, though. You didn’t want to walk in on things that would possibly make someone beheading you for seeing. The occasional guards passing you by were looking at you suspiciously but they were not saying anything. After a while you stopped seeing them at all and realised you were in a dark maze of endless corridors that you had no idea how to get out of.

Trying to go back, you only ended up getting lost even further as you were going deeper and deeper into the maze. Your heart started to pound in your chest and your hands began to shake as they turned cold. The corridor was cold in general – much colder than the rest of the fortress. And it was terrifyingly empty.

You decided to stay in one place and wait. Someone had to eventually look for you, right? You hoped for it to be true. Trying to hug your own self for warmth and comfort, you rested your back on the cold, grey wall, taking deep breaths in. 

Suddenly, a loud and animalistic cry emerged from behind one of the black doors. You were startled by it and your body began to tremble even more. You wanted to get away as far as possible from that door but when you were about to turn around and run, they opened and your heart squeezed in your chest.

To your surprise, it was your betrothed leaving the mysterious room. He was wearing gladiator attire and holding a blade in his hand with blood still dripping. His eyes widened at the sight of you and you froze.

“What are you doing here?” He asked in his deep and raspy voice.

“I… I got lost, I’m sorry. I’ve been told to roam freely around the fortress and explore on my own but I got lost…” You explained as you shivered.

Feyd-Rautha approached you slowly like predators approach their prey. You took a step back and felt the wall behind you. You were trapped.

“Lost, you’re saying?” He smirked as he hovered over you. Your heart was pounding so fast in your chest that he just had to hear it. He rested one of his hands on the wall above your head and leaned in even closer. “You’ve accidentally gone underground where I train on my slaves,” he smiled almost playfully, showing off his black stained teeth.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to..” You gasped but he shushed you with a soft hiss.

“Did I say it was forbidden?” He asked and you shook your head. “Come, I’ll show you,” Feyd straightened himself and reached out his hand towards you as if he was a proper gentleman.

Everything inside you was screaming to run away and to not follow him anywhere. But you were aware that he would catch you in a second and your attempt would only most likely enrage him. And very soon you would belong to him anyway. You would be his property whether you wanted it or not.

You held his hand and he froze at the feeling of your ice cold and shivering fingers.

“You are cold,” he pointed out. “And scared.”

“I am not scared,” you lied. You had been taught that The Harkonnens hated fear and cowardice.

“And a liar,” Feyd-Rautha sneered and led you inside the mysterious room he had previously left.

It was big and dark like every other room in that fortress. There was a dead body of a servant in gladiator gear laying on the floor in the puddle of his own blood. The walls were covered in all sorts of weapons.

“This is where I train,” Feyd announced proudly. He had to think it would impress you but it only made you sick, especially the sight of the dead man on the floor. You had never seen death in such a brutal and ugly way before. But now you were sure it was not the last time.

Feyd was visibly waiting for your response as he let go of your hand and took a step back to tilt his head and watch your expressions carefully. You realised it was a test of how much you were able to handle as his wife.

You wondered what would happen if you failed all the tests. Would they just send you back home or would they get rid of you? Were they even able to do that? You didn’t want to find out.

“It is impressive, my Lord na-baron,” you admitted with a shaky nod of your head and he winced at your words which made you furrow your brows.

“Don’t address me like a servant, pet,” he clicked his tongue and you nodded, slightly uncomfortable at the way he had called you.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised. “How should I address you then?”

“However you like,” Feyd shrugged his arms and approached you once again, raising his bloody blade slightly as you flinched. It brought a smile to his full lips. Looking deep into your eyes, he licked the blade clean. You clenched your jaw and tried to keep a poker face on but a knot formed in your stomach at the disgusting act.

You hated to admit that he was attractive for a Harkonnen. There was a magnetic energy about him that made you attracted to him like a moth was driven to a flame. Even his harsh and unpleasant voice was leaving you wanting more.

Feyd brushed your hair with the tip of his freshly cleaned blade, carefully, making sure not to cut any strand.

“I want you to always wear your hair like this,” he looked even more intensely into your eyes.

“That would be inappropriate,” you tried to explain. “It’s not considered elegant.”

“I said, I want you to always wear your hair like this,” he repeated like he couldn’t understand why you were trying to argue. He was a spoiled na-baron and completely not used to people disobeying him. So, you just nodded this time.

“Then I will,” you promised. “If I could only get a hairbrush, though. Or a comb. So they don’t tangle,” you pleaded and he squinted his eyes at you as the tip of his blade moved to under your chin. You swallowed thickly at that gesture.

“A hairbrush or a comb,” he repeated your words. “That can be arranged,” he added and you smiled nervously at him. “What are you scared of?”

“Of the blade under my chin perhaps?” You raised an eyebrow at him and he chuckled, however his hand remained still.

“Weren’t you sent here to be my wife?” Feyd’s smile dropped in an instant. He was serious again and you took a deep breath in, tugging on the folds of your dress to hide how sweaty your hands had become.

“Yes, I was,” you nodded.

“And what do you think of that?”

“I don’t think. I have been preparing for that since I was a child,” you answered.

“I want to be a good husband,” his sudden confession made your eyes widen. In one swift move he took the blade away from you and replaced it with his hand as he held your chin up, forcing you to look into his eyes. “My uncle says that a wife should not be an enemy. He wants me to court you properly,” he explained.

“Is your uncle experienced in marriage?” You asked, curiously. You had been taught that Baron Harkonnen had never been married.

Feyd laughed at your question as his grip on your chin tightened. He moved his face even closer to yours, your nose nearly brushed his and it made you hold your breath.

“Can you think of a woman who would not become his enemy after being forced to marry him?” He asked you and you dared to chuckle at that.

“So, I assume, I do not have to worry about you becoming like him one day?” You bit on your lower lip, realising that he indeed did not want to hurt you.

Perhaps that whole uncomfortable and threatening situation was his idea of intimacy. You wouldn’t be surprised.

“My uncle is not my role model,” he only answered and took a step back, removing his hand from your chin. “I don’t have idols.”

“What do you worship then?” You furrowed your brows.

“Blood and honour,” he answered with all seriousness. “Allow me to give you something, my pet. A gift for my bride to be,” he proposed and you hesitantly agreed, not wanting to hurt his feelings by refusing.

You expected him to approach one of the walls and hand you some of the weapons. But, to your surprise, he kneeled down next to the dead body laying on the floor and he opened its chest with the sharp tip of his blade. You gagged quietly and covered your mouth with your hand, trying to look away as the metallic smell of blood hit your nostrils, leaving you nauseous.

The sound of his heavy footsteps made you look in his direction again, not wanting to offend him in any way. He was walking towards you proudly with a real human heart in his hands, blood dripping off of it on the floor, leaving a trace. With all your force you stopped yourself from squealing at the sight. No amount of training and studying The Harkonnen culture had prepared you for this.

Feyd-Rautha reached his hands out as he offered you his foul gift. He was staring at you intensely, expecting praise of some sort or admiration. However, you had none. You let the wet organ slip into your hands as you gagged once again at the sensation and a shiver went down your body. Your reaction caused Feyd to tilt his head and squint his eyes.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“You don’t like it,” he pointed out after a short while of silence and you got scared of upsetting him.

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just…” you started, trying to nervously explain yourself.

“You don’t like it,” he repeated, both annoyed and disappointed.

“I appreciate the gesture,” you tried to assure him. “I will keep it,” you promised.

“Why don’t you like it?” He asked once again, ignoring all your words. You sighed.

“It’s just not something I’m used to. In my homeworld, we don’t give each other human hearts,” you explained softly.

“What do you give each other?” His question was genuine and curious.

“Haven’t you studied my customs like I have been studying yours?” You asked but the answer was obvious.

“My uncle says it is not important for me to know your culture because you are here to become one of us,” Feyd explained. “The only thing I have been studying was the blade,” he added. “So, what kind of gifts do your people give?”

“Flowers,” you answered. “For example.”

“There are no flowers on Giedi Prime,” Feyd pointed out. “No seed blooms in our soil.”

“I understand,” you nodded, nervously. “I am grateful for your gift, Feyd-Rautha. I appreciate your courtship,” you assured him but your voice and hands were shaking as your face was visibly disgusted.

Someone knocked upon the doors and Feyd barked at them to come in. You turned around and saw two guards sighing out of relief at the sight of you.

“There you are, my Lady!” One of them approached you. “We’ve been searching everywhere. Let us escort you back to your chambers,” he bowed his head.

You nodded at him, relieved as well at the sight of them. You wanted nothing else than to go back to the familiar part of the fortress and to finally leave this awkward and uncomfortable situation with your betrothed.

Still holding the heart carefully in your hands, you walked out without even glancing at Feyd-Rautha. The guards took you to your chambers where the worried servants had been waiting. They gasped at the sight of your gift.

“What is it, my Lady?” One of the girls asked you.

“It’s a gift from Feyd-Rautha,” you explained as they all widened their eyes. “I have no idea what to do with it,” you admitted.

“Feyd Rautha gave it to you, my Lady?” The servant swallowed thickly and you nodded. “Do you know what it means, my Lady?”

“No,” you shook your head and handed the organ to another girl. “I desperately need to wash my hands and change my dress,” you said and disappeared into the bathroom where you spent fifteen minutes getting rid of the blood.

You took the stained dress off and threw it on the floor before walking out back to your chamber. The girls were already preparing the heart as they put it in a jar full of some odd liquid.

“It will dry in there, my Lady,” one of them explained. “Na-baron must be really enamoured with you, my Lady, or perhaps he is trying to show his best side to you.”

“Enamoured?” You snorted at her. “It’s gruesome.”

“It’s the most romantic thing a Harkonnen man can give to a woman, my Lady,” the other woman added and you gasped.

“I haven’t been taught that…” You whispered, feeling extremely stupid for the way you had treated Feyd-Rautha before. You had to anger him dearly and his rage was not something you wanted to deal with. “What is the equivalent of such a gift for a man? What can I give him in return?” You asked the servants and they looked at each other’s faces, surprised.

“There is no equivalent, my Lady,” one of them answered. “Harkonnen women do not court. Only men do.”

On the next day, when you were leaving your chambers to go to your class, you spotted the doors nearby opening and your betrothed walking out of them. Your room was in the same area as his so it was no surprise but you didn’t expect to see him at the same time in the morning. At the sight of you, he looked down and walked past you without a word, which made you feel bad for him and for the way you had treated him. But it also made you anxious because his uncle has been right about marriage. You didn’t want Feyd-Rautha to be your enemy.

Giedi Prime was far from perfect and your betrothed was an odd, psychotic creature. You couldn’t change your destiny, though, so you had to embrace it to make it bearable.

“Feyd, wait,” you rushed after him and he froze when you grabbed the sleeve of his robe. He turned around and looked at you coldly.

“I am in a hurry,” he drawled.

“So am I. But I wanted to apologise. I have been studying the Harkonnen culture for years but I have never been told of the meaning of such a gift,” you explained, feeling your cheeks getting warm. “Please, forgive me. I didn't mean to reject you.”

“The heart was of a low quality,” he admitted as his face softened slightly. “Next time I will give you the heart of a real warrior, a real enemy. Not some slave,” he added. “My uncle has already reprimanded me for that.”

You broke a smile at him. It was adorable in a way how this scary and dangerous man was following his uncle’s guide on courtship, trying to be on his best behaviour around you. It was making you feel powerful in a way.

“I would like to return the favour but my servants have informed me there is no such tradition,” you confessed. “What can I do for you to forgive me?”

Feyd-Rautha hesitated for a moment as he looked away, thinking intensely about something. Then he laid his eyes on you again and leaned in to join your lips together. You were startled at first, your heart pounded in your chest. Raised to become his wife, you had never kissed anybody before and saved yourself for him only, however it felt as if his soft lips were truly made for yours. You put your hand on his chest and opened your mouth to invite his tongue in. He devoured you, greedily wanting to explore your mouth and feast on your taste. His hands pulled you closer by your hips and you put your free hand behind his head. Seeing him for the first time in real life two days ago, you had been slightly uncomfortable at the sight of him. But now you did not feel any of that.

Even if you hadn’t been prepared to become his wife, you’d still want him. You had been born to be his.

Feyd’s hands moved up and cupped your face before breaking the kiss and moving away gently. You took a deep breath in as he stared into your eyes and caressed your loose hair.

“You’re forgiven, my pet,” he told you. “By the way, I’ve ordered a hair brush for you.”

MASTERLIST

Deal With It - Matty Healy

Plot: I had this idea where the reader is Matty’s plug and it seemed kinda cool so I’m running with it. Has a little bit of George Daniel. Also based on she way out but set around 2015/16 time.

Female reader

Warnings: Explicit drug use, Alcohol, Cocaine, Weed, Smoking, Swearing, Violence, Smut, Male & slight female dom

“There she is! Finally fucking made it,” Matty announced as he pulled me tightly into his side. I grinned, smelling the booze, cigarettes and cologne on him. He’d accosted me as soon as he spotted me walking across the crowded nightclub. It’d been booked for some fancy private party full of celebrities, and Matty had got me on the guest list. He pulled me toward the group of sofas in the corner, where the band and various others sat.

“Alright, get off of me you daft twat,” I joked, escaping from his grasp and ruffling his long curly hair. George stood from his spot at the table, standing in front of me with his arms open and smile lines in the corner of his eyes. I didn’t hesitate to fall into his embrace, my head only touching his chest as he towered above me. His arms looped around my back as he picked me up and I felt my short dress ride up.

“George! George my arse is out,” I warned him, laughing. Matty came up behind me to pull my skirt down and his band mate returned me to my feet. I felt my ears burning as George grinned down at me.

“How are you doing then? It’s been a while,” he asked, and I couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off my face. It was almost embarrassing how attractive I found him. Matty had introduced us at one of his parties and we hit it off over a spliff.

“Not too bad, whitey king,” I teased, earning a playful shove.

“Hey, hey, don’t steal her away. I’m the one who asked her here,” Matty interrupted, obviously upset at being left out of the conversation bubble. He swooped in, hooking an arm around my shoulder and leading me away from the group. “I’ll bring her back for you shortly, we have business to discuss first,” he announced cheekily, sending a wink in George’s direction, who didn’t look overly impressed.

“Matty, I didn’t even get to say hi to anyone,” I complained, squirming out of his grasp because I wasn’t entirely sure how it made me feel. Whilst George had been wearing cuffed jeans and converse, Matty seemed a lot more dressed up. He had on black trousers and a white shirt that was more draped over him than being worn, the top buttons undone. It suited him.

“You can see them later, now have you got anything for me?”

“You’re dressed smart,” I stated, ignoring his question. He rolled his eyes, but I could see him smirk.

“And you’re dressed hot, now where’s the coke?”

“Ey!” I scolded, smacking him on the arm as we reached the bar. “It’s here,” I told him, taking his hand and pressing the baggy into it. He thanked me, pocketed it and pressed a kiss to my cheek, slipping a some bank notes into my bag. Matty waved a hand at the bartender, a pretty young woman who came over immediately.

“I’ll get a whiskey and a…” he turned to me.

“Just a rum and coke.”

“A double rum and coke, and could you get a tray of shots to the table in the corner?” Matty asked her, pointing out his group. The bartender nodded, making quick work of our drinks and passing a message on to serve the rest of the band. Matty slid my glass over to me, knocking back his own drink alarmingly fast.

“D’ya need me to give you any money for that?”

“Are you kidding? It’s on a tab, now get that drink down you, you’re unnervingly sober,” he told me, linking his fingers through mine and pulling me through the bodies. He led me through to the hall and then stopped outside the women’s bathroom. “Hurry up,” he scolded, gesturing back to the untouched glass in my hand. I scowled at his bossiness, but did as I was told and knocked the drink back with a slight grimace.

“What are we doing hanging outside the ladies?” I asked him suspiciously, but he didn’t dignify me with a response, instead pushed through the door and hurried me into a toilet cubicle. I raised an eyebrow. “Well now I think that you’re really fucking weird, and I’ve been your dealer for over a year.”

“Do a line with me you muppet,” he quipped, pulling the baggy out his pocket. He got his phone out and cut two decent lines on the black screen. He did his first and then I copied him, covering my nostril and tipping my head back as I sniffed hard. Immediately the chemical petrol taste started a drip at the back of my throat. Matty looked up at me. “You’re the best, (Y/N).”

“It can’t be hitting you that quick, let’s go back.”

“Fine, let’s get another drink in you,” Matty decided for both of us. Although I wanted to go back and see George I figured a pit stop by the bar wouldn’t be the worst thing to shift the nerves.

By the time we stopped for a cigarette and got two Jägerbombs the drugs had hit my system and I knew it would be a terrible idea to go over and try to speak to the drummer. I felt a grin stuck on my face as Matty frantically talked my ear off, although I’d only half been listening. Instead, I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the dance floor, where the song Everybody Dance by CHIC was playing. His words were cut off as he raised his eyebrows in surprise, obligingly following me to the front where the DJ was. He chuckled, beginning to dance along with me. We were facing each other, stood quite close. His pupils were dilated, his hair falling over his face. Suddenly he stopped dancing, laughing at me instead.

“What? What is it?” I asked, feeling flushed and totally off my face as I grinned.

“You’re totally off beat,” he said, leaning close to my ear so I could hear him. Matty leaned back, first tapping the rhythm of the song onto my arms, then trailed his fingers down my forearms to catch my hands in his own, pushing them foreword and back so that we were dancing together, and putting my rhythm back on track. He wetted his lip as swayed to the beat. We shouted the words at each other, Matty at one point playfully spinning me around, his shirt now totally unbuttoned, showing his torso and tattoos.

“MATTY THIS IS YOUR SONG!” I shouted at him as all of a sudden Love Me off the boys new album started playing. He chuckled, looking almost embarrassed as his own voice came through the speaker.

“Oh god,” he complained, but he still humoured me with a short dance before we made our way back to the table, both feeling a lot more trashed than when we had first bumped into each other. Matty essentially deposited me with the others before he was off to the bar again. George welcomed me a spot on his lap as all the seats were taken and made quick work of settling his arms around my stomach with his chin resting on my head while Adam and Ross discussed the next tour they were due to go on.

“I was hoping you weren’t going to run off with Matty again this time,” George said, his hands moving to tug the skirt of my dress slightly down so my knickers weren’t on show. I felt my ears heat up red again at his comment. George seemed to be able to make me so flustered at his comments, despite the way he said them so calmly.

“Matty is Matty, he’s constantly dragging me off to do things.”

“What things?” George asked, hinting at the obvious.

“Cocaine mainly,” I deadpanned.

“That’s a bit naughty,” he teased, digging his fingers into my sides so that I squirmed. I spotted Matty making his way back to the table with a tray of drinks.

“George, you do know what I do for a living?”

“Yeah, I sussed it out,” he replied, pressing a kiss to my cheek as Matty wedged his way into a non existent seat between Adam and George.

“I bought us shots,” he announced. “Come on (Y/N), you’ll do a shot with me won’t you?” His voice was coming out testy, and as I looked him in the eye I noticed his pupils once again dilated. I frowned, noticing the way his mood had soured and hoped he wasn’t about to make it everyone’s problem.

“Sure, I’ll do a shot,” I appeased, tilting my head to look at George. “You?”

“Yeah, course,” he replied, moving his hands back to rest on my thighs while Matty grimaced slightly and handed shots out to the group.

“Fucksake Hann, I’m trying to hand you this,” he snapped at Adam when he failed to notice the drink he’d been offered.

“Fucking hell Matty, what’s got you so tetchy?” the guitarist asked, receiving an annoyed look.

“I’m not tetchy,” Matty responded unconvincingly.

As the night went on Matty’s move improved slightly, even if it was only after sneaking off to do more coke. It was a while before he went off into the party, him instead favouring hovering by me and George, occasionally dropping in arsey comments which were beginning to piss me off.

After Matty sloped off to the bathrooms again, I asked George to come with me for a cigarette. We pushed our way through the crowd and stumbled through the corridor to the outdoor smoking area; a large rooftop balcony overlooking West London. I leant against the railing, George coming to stand next to me.

“You got a light?” I asked, having left my bag inside. He nodded, patting down his pockets to find it, then ignited it, holding it out with his hand guarding the flickering flame as I lit my cigarette and then as he lit his. I took a deep drag.

“I have to ask you something.” He turned to me, his body slightly closer to my own. “Are you… Are you and Matty a thing?” George asked, before taking another drag of his cigarette. I let out a laugh.

“What? No,” I chuckled. “He’s a client, and probably a friend too now I think about it, but we’re not romantically involved.”

“Cool,” came George’s response. With that, his hand reached down to cup my cheek and I looked up at him curiously, but in the back of my mind I knew what was going to happen next. As his eyes flickered from my eyes down to my lips and back my suspicions were confirmed and he leaned down to kiss me, both of us unaware that there might be any potential observers. As his lips pressed against my own and our cigarettes smoked away, forgotten by our sides, I couldn’t help but feel a slight disappointment. The kiss was just… a kiss. Perhaps I’d set myself up for it, expecting fireworks just because I found the man attractive, but the truth remained that there was hardly a spark.

My thoughts were cut short however as a third party forced it’s way into the moment, in the form of Matty Healy. It took a moment for me to register George reeling away from me, another for me to comprehend that Matty had punted his best mate in the face.

“Matty! What the fuck?!” I heard my own voice exclaimed shrilly. George was stood back from the aggravated Matty, holding the side of his face in surprise.

“You two? Are you fucking joking me?!” Matty exclaimed, clearly fresh off one line too many. I rushed over to George, seeing to check if he was okay, but when I reached him he stepped away from me, a hurt look in his eyes as if I had lied to him about my relationship to Matty. I didn’t blame him. The way Matty was acting was as though I was his wife of four years, not his newly acquired mate.

“I’m going inside, you two should talk,” George said, a little coldly. He left quickly, not bothering to say anything else to either of us.

“(Y/n), I…” Matty began, obviously sensing that he might have done the wrong thing.

“I’m not speaking to you here, it’s too… public,” I told him. He reached out for my arm and I batted him away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” I snapped, ignoring his shocked and guilty eyes.

“My hotel is across the street, we could talk there?” he suggested. I paused, thinking that that might be a terrible idea, but my head was fuzzy with booze and coke and I more than desperately wanted to sit down. I nodded, unable to speak incase I began yelling at him.

We walked in total silence, Matty stumbling slightly the whole way and me remaining at least two paces behind him, except for making sure he didn’t dart out into the busy London traffic. Eventually we made it to the hotel room; a large suite by the top of the building. Matty kicked off his shoes and I shut the door softly behind me before he walked past and fell down onto his stomach on the bed, reaching into the drawers.

“We could go for a spliff,” he suggested, a cheeky grin on his face, contrasting the stony look on my own face. I was gobsmacked at his complacency.

“Matty!” I scolded, and he sat up to look at me, leaving the skins and grinder on the bed. “What you did was not alright, in fact, what the FUCK were you thinking?” I began, all the frustration I’d built up finally coming out. He looked irritatingly surprised that we were still on the subject, likely from the drugs.

“I dunno, it was just wrong wasn’t it?”

“Wrong? What the fuck does that mean?”

“George shouldn’t have kissed you,” he continued, not really explaining anything. I stepped closer to him and he stood up to meet my height.

“Matty, what do you mean he shouldn’t have kissed me?” I said, my voice dangerously quiet.

“I…” Matty began, but he didn’t sound so confident now. “I didn’t like it. I dunno.” His eyes darted down to the floor. “I watched you outside being all lovey-dovey and I didn’t like it… so I… I hit him.”

“He’s your fucking best mate Matty! Why do you think you get to do shit like that just because you don’t like a situation? And you were watching us? How long was that little act of voyeurism?” I demanded, but this time Matty met my eye with a level of slight arrogance.

“See, this is why I like you. Only you would say a phrase like that.”

Before I even thought about it my hand had caught the side of his face. He put his own hand on the spot where I’d slapped him, looking at me slightly shocked. All of a sudden I couldn’t find the words to continue. Guilt hit me in my stomach. I hadn’t meant to do that.

Matty’s expression however had changed. His dark eyes stayed trained on my face, lips parted and I could hear him breathe slightly louder. For a second we both stood there, tension thick between us, in total silence.

“Matty I’m sorry I-” I began, but was cut off as he took my face in his hands and connect our lips, pressing his hard against my own and slipping his tongue into my mouth. I felt my heart rate increase at the excitement of his hands falling to cup the small of my back, pulling me into him. A rush of adrenaline coursed through me as my hands found their way into his tangled hair, fingers tugging at it as Matty let out a slight groan at the feeling. He spun us around, the backs of my knees pressing against the bed. I parted my lips from his, touching my forehead to his.

“Matty,” I began, and he let out a sigh even at me just saying his name. I tilted my head away from him, his hands holding me in place as my own dropped to rest on his shoulders. “I don’t think…”

“Please don’t stop this now, I think I might have I nervous breakdown if you stop this now,” he countered before I had the chance to voice my concern. I could hear the slight desperation in his voice as his hands gripped me slightly. “(Y/n), we can deal with the mess in the morning,” he added gently, his hand coming up to the side of my head as he knotted his fingers softly into my hair.

I considered it for a moment, but the thrumming deep within me and the way I could feel Matty stir against my thigh quickly made up my mind for me.

“Fuck it,” I muttered, connecting my lips to his again and running my hands down to unbutton his shirt. His hands snuck under the fabric of my dress that had been riding up all evening, gripping at my thighs. I let out a soft moan which made him pull away, looking at me hungrily as he took his shirt off.

“Get on the bed,” he instructed lowly, and so I kicked off my heels and shuffled back along the mattress. Matty’s eyes never strayed from mine as he crawled up towards me, running a hand down one of my legs only to lift my ankle, kissing along it softly, trailing his lips along the inside of my leg in a painfully slow manner. As he torturously made his way up toward my inner thigh I could feel myself get worked up, letting out a moan as he nipped my skin lightly. He hummed against my skin as his hands reached to pull my skirt up around my waist and his fingers hooked the sides of my underwear, making me lift my hips to help him remove them, but he didn’t. He lifted his head and moved up between my legs, slipping his tongue into my mouth. I nipped his bottom lip between my teeth and he let out a moan that seemed to surprise him.

Together we removed my dress, leaving me in my mismatched underwear; a black bra and lilac lace knickers. Matty pushed me down onto the bed, moving to plant wet kisses along my neck as he let his hips grind against me. Sick of the teasing I rolled on top of him, straddling his waist with his erection pressed against me. I reached around to unclip my bra, letting it fall to my elbows before removing it. Matty quickly sat upright, cupping my breasts as he kissed me again, and I ground against him, enjoying the feeling of his skin against mine. I brought my hands up to his chest, pushing him back to a laying position and making him look at me in total awe. I brought a hand up to cuff his neck, not choking him, but pressing my thumb into the side of his neck so I could feel his pulse increase as I rolled my hips slightly.

“Fucking hell,” he swore, his hands resting on my waist, pushing to try and deepen my movements. I leant down to leave another wet kiss onto his mouth, moaning into it when he bucked his hips up against my heat. I moved my kisses down his neck and chest, starting to unbuckle his trousers and pull them down his thighs. I paused my kisses for a moment just to get his trousers off, then placed the gentlest kisses to his stomach, ghosting over his We Are Kings tattoo and letting myself breathe over his skin, his hands once again tangling into my hair as I laced my fingers into the waistband of his boxers. I felt his muscles tense as I pressed a kiss to the crook of his hipbone. “You’re driving me fucking insane,” he murmured, tipping my head to face him with my chin between his thumb and forefinger. I grinned slightly, before placing one last kiss at the very edge of his underwear and then pulling them down, freeing him.I pumped his erection in my hand a couple of times, enjoying hearing the satisfied grunts Matty let out at finally being touched, and then I gently touched my lips to the head of his cock, Matty watching me intently the whole time, slightly sat up on his elbows. I hummed slightly, knowing he’d feel it, then pulled my lips away, sitting up.

“It’s quite late, maybe I should leave,” I said calmly, wanting to see his reaction. It was only a tease of course, I could feel myself dripping with arousal as I said the words. He looked at me darkly.

“Don’t you fucking dare, this might be the hardest my dick has ever been,” he warned, sitting up and grabbing my wrist.

“Hmm, okay. Will you say please?” I asked mischievously, knowing I was pushing it.

“Fuck off.”

“Fine then,” I responded, pulling myself out of his grasp.

“No! Wait!” he exclaimed, making me pause. “Please can you?”

“Please can I what?” I asked, definitely abusing my power now. Matty let out a pained groan.

“Please can you suck my fucking dick?” he requested reluctantly, but he couldn’t hide how desperate he was. I kneeled between his legs, placing another gentle kiss to the tip of his cock. I didn’t bother teasing him further, just took his length into my mouth, pushing it as far as I could handle. Matty let out a groan at the feeling, resisting the urge to buck his hips up further into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around the head and then sunk my mouth back down, repeating the process again and again until Matty grabbed my hair and pushed me down, cumming into the back of my throat with a slight moan. When my mouth came off of him a string of saliva connected my tongue to his twitching cock. He sat up fully, grabbing me by my neck and pulling me to kiss him with his taste still on my tongue. I moaned languidly into the kiss, rubbing my thighs together to try and alleviate some of the throbbing. Matty’s hand trailed from my breast, across my stomach until his fingers brushed against where I needed him most. He hummed contentedly, feeling how wet my underwear was already. He didn’t break the kiss as he moved them aside, inserting two of his fingers into me and curling them up, making me gasp and grip at his shoulders. His lips trailed along my jaw while his thumb brushed my clit, soaking up the noises that spilled from my lips.

“Go lie down,” he instructed firmly, pulling his fingers from inside me and licking them clean. I blushed seeing the way my juices had dripped down his hand. I lay back with my head on the pillows, my knees together self consciously, but soon Matty parted them, not hesitating to lick a stripe along my heat. I shuddered at the stimulation, Matty hooking his arms around my parted thighs as he pushed his face down between my legs. I let out a unexpectedly lewd moan, covering my mouth with my hand. Matty reached up to pull my elbow, silently telling me that he wanted me to be loud. His tongue circled my clit, pressing down onto it and this time I let my whimpers be heard.

“Matty,” I gasped, quickly threading my fingers into his curls, pulling slightly and making him growl slightly. His grip tightened on my thighs as the pleasure built inside of me, causing me to close my thighs slightly around his head. His tongue flicked over my clit, warm and wet. His curls brushed against the inside of my legs. “Fucking hell,” I whined. “I’m really fucking close.”

To my frustration as soon as I said those words he pulled away from me, looking at my face while he lay his head on my thigh. He had a smug grin on his face.

“You bastard,” I cursed him, lifting myself up on my elbows. Matty pressed a kiss to my stomach and then sat up, wasting no time in pulling me into his lap, his erection pressing against my stomach. My hands quickly looped around his neck as his held tightly onto my hips. We looked each other in the eye, smiling like naughty teenagers while his thumbs rubbed circles onto my hip bone. I gazed at him through half lidded eyes, ghosting my lips against his until he darted forwards and caught my lip between his teeth, dragging it back and making me release a noise halfway between a giggle and a moan. I leant back slightly, looking down between us. “Did you get that just from going down on me?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he replied lowly, before moving to press another kiss to my neck. As he moved his attention from one side to the other, I lifted my hips and let him press the top of his cock to my slick entrance. As I lowered my weight, he let out a load moan, and I felt his hot breath against my neck as his hands squeezed my sides. I rolled my hips up, moaning myself as he slid up inside of me. While my pace sped up, his hands dropped to hold my arse, his head tipping back and his lips parted. We gripped each other and panted, and I couldn’t shake the need to be impossibly close to him. As he grew closer his eyes darkened, and he pushed me onto my back, pounding me into the mattress. More heavenly moans tumbled from our lips, and as I grew closer I clutched at his back desperately.

It hit me unexpectedly, a wave of pleasure deep inside of me that made my back arch up into him, pressing our torsos together. Matty let out one final growl and finished inside of me as I clenched around him. He pulled me in for a tired, wet kiss, and as he pulled away I saw the satisfied grin on his face. He stayed on top of me, pulling his cock out and then planting more kisses all over my face, making me laugh as his curls brushed over my forehead.

“That was fucking amazing,” he told me softly, unable to stop the smile stretching across his face, which I couldn’t help but mirror. He rolled off of me, but still pulled me into his side. “Honestly, (Y/n), that might have been the best sex I’ve had.”

“It was pretty fucking good,” I agreed, sitting up and getting off of the bed.

“Where are you going?”

“To the loo,” I responded, padding through to the bathroom and shutting the door behind me. As I sat down on the toilet seat I grabbed some loo roll to clean myself up, then went for a piss. After that I stood in front of the mirror, nude. My hair was all over the place, and my dark eye makeup had smudged, but my face was bright and glowy despite the state of the night. I tidied myself up a bit, took off as much of my makeup as was possible and returned back to the bedroom.

Matty was lying on top of the duvet still, stark naked and scrolling through his phone. He looked over at me as I emerged, putting his phone down. His eyes couldn’t help but cross my body again.

“I have to say, I’m glad you haven’t put your clothes back on,” he teased, and I rolled my eyes, but moved to join him on the bed anyway. Immediately he wrapped himself around me, his leg crossing over my body, and I absentmindedly ran my fingers through his hair again. His nose brushed my cheek and I could feel him breathe.

“I kinda like being naked,” I told him, fiddling with his curls.

“Oh yeah?” he questioned, but to my surprise he didn’t seem to be making any kind of dirty joke.

“Yeah. It’s such a vulnerable and intimate thing, but there’s a power in not caring,” I explained. Matty hummed in agreement. “I suppose it’s conditioned in us to see it as a very sordid thing, and that’s why it feels like a risk, but at the end of the day we’re the same people with or without clothes on,” I continued to muse. Matty pressed another kiss to my jaw, responding to me in a sleepy voice.

“That’s a good point.”

“Although, I am cold. I’m gonna get under the duvet,” I decided, trying to get out of his grasp. He stayed still, holding me in place. “Matty,” I complained. “Let me go, I’m cold.”

“You don’t feel cold,” he argued, nuzzling his head into the crook of my neck. I let out an exasperated sigh, but wriggled out from underneath him, getting myself comfy beneath the thick bedding. Matty let out an exasperated groan, but got under the covers next to me anyway, his arms pulled me back into him, and we chatted for a little while, until our responses grew slow and we both fell asleep.

The next morning I woke early, my head feeling heavy and my body hot. It took me a moment to figure out where I was, sitting up and taking in the sleeping man next to me. He looked calm, his brow relaxed and his hair a mess against the white pillow cover. I found my bag and checked my phone.

Hey (y/n), sorry about last night. You left your jacket at the party so I picked it up x

I groaned, guilt forming in my stomach at George’s message. I pulled myself out of bed, finding my bra and putting it back on.

“Matty,” I whispered, shaking his shoulder slightly to wake him. “Have you got any underwear I can borrow?” He groaned tiredly, rubbing his eyes and pointing across the room.

“Suitcase.”

I rummaged around in his case until I found a pair of clean boxers, pulling them on. Matty rolled over, watching me shuffle round the room to find my stuff, the duvet pulled up to his chin.

“They look better on you than me,” he pointed out, enjoying the early morning show. I wasn’t in the mood for it, however, not responding as I pulled my dress back over my head and grabbed my bag.

“Matty, I shouldn’t have done this,” I told him, pulling my shoes back on.

“You’re not leaving are you?” he asked, yawning. “We could go and grab breakfast downstairs first.”

“I don’t eat breakfast.”

“Fine, coffee then, don’t be difficult.”

The idea of coffee did sound tempting, but I pushed that thought aside.

“I’m not happy with this, okay? I’m still annoyed at you, last night doesn’t change that,” I explained. Matty sat up, the covers falling down to show his chest and shoulders.

“Take some money for a taxi then,” he offered, still acting flippant.

“I don’t want your money, I’m leaving, okay?” I told him finally, and with that I left, ready for the walk of shame ahead.

you gonna let me be good to you?

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: your little slip up forces you and frank to come to terms with your feelings for one another.

warnings: cursing, fluffy frank, mentions of blood (its frank babes), explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 9.7k

a/n: this one goes out to all my frankie lovers <3 I promised this a long time ago and i've literally been working on it for weeks but it didn't feel ~right~ until now. i'm a slut for soft frank, and frank in general, so here's 22 pages of just that. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

Frank Castle was not a man who was easily taken by surprise. He was used to having the upper hand, normally several steps ahead of everyone else, but even in a tight unexpected situation he was able to come out on top. There were very few things left in this world that shocked him anymore. After his time in the marines, and the reputation that preceded him as The Punisher, he had seen and done things most people couldn’t fathom in their wildest imaginations. 

Yet, here he was, staring down at his phone absolutely and completely dumbfounded. As much as he knew he should, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the picture displayed on the screen. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. The longer he stared at it, the more he felt his jeans becoming increasingly too tight. His eyes anxiously flickered between the photo, and the door he knew you were just on the other side of. For the first time in a long time, Frank didn’t know what to do. He was completely in shock..because you had just accidentally sent him a photo of yourself in lingerie.

Frank had stopped by your office and asked if you could send him some photos of a few documents that you had found at the library that contained confidential information related to a “case” he was working on. You opted to take photos instead of printing the documents, not wanting it to be tracked back to you or him. Frank had met you through Karen, you were her best friend, and you graciously helped him out from time to time. 

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. He shouldn’t be staring. He should delete the photo and lie through his teeth saying he never got anything. He didn’t want you to be embarrassed. You two were friends, in a way he supposed. As much as anyone could really be Frank Castle’s friend. As soon as the door to your office swung open, Frank whipped his head up in the direction of your voice.

“Hey, did you get the photos? Sorry, I have terrible signal in here. I wanted to make sure you got them before you took off.”

Frank felt frozen. There was no doubt a light shade of pink coated the tops of his cheeks, which he knew he could easily blame on the heat in the building. But if he didn’t get the hell out of there fast, there would be little to no ignoring the effect the photo had on him. He could already feel all the blood in his body rushing straight downwards. Frank cleared his throat awkwardly, looking anywhere but at you, turning his phone over in his hands timidly.

“I uh..think you sent me the wrong thing.”

The furrow of confusion in your brows and the adorable pout that formed on your lips made his cock twitch in his jeans. He let his mind wander for a moment as he thought about how pretty those full lips of yours would look wrapped around the head of his cock. He couldn’t stop his eyes from traveling down your body, now that he knew what was hiding underneath. He paid extra attention to how the fabric of your pencil skirt clung to your curvy hips, and the little taste of cleavage he caught from your blouse that dived into a v-shape just above the swell of your breasts. Fuck. Stop it.

“I didn’t send you the photos of documents?”

“No..you uh..sent me somethin’ else. Somethin’ that uh..wasn’t..meant for me.”

Frank should’ve stopped you from checking your phone to see just what he was talking about. He should’ve brushed it off, told you not to worry and to just send the photos when you had a minute, and gotten the hell out of there. But another part of him was curious about your reaction to your mishap. As you unlocked your phone to check your previous messages with Frank, a sharp gasp suddenly left your lips and your hand flew up to cover your mouth. Your doe eyes were blown wide open as you stared down at Frank in panic. 

“Oh my god, Frank..I-I’m so sorry. Oh my god, I can’t believe I sent you that. I..I’m so..I’m so sorry.”

“S’alright. Honest mistake. I just uh..knew it wasn't for me. Thought you should..be aware, I guess.”

He had to look away. He couldn’t handle the sight of you biting your lip, even if it was innocent. All it did was fuel the sinful thoughts berating around in his head. Sure, he’d always thought you were pretty, even from the moment you two first met. But he never thought more of it. He never thought about you like that until now. Now that he had seen what your body looked like covered in thin black lace. You weren’t exactly naked in the photo, but it damn sure left nothing to the imagination. It awoke something within Frank he was having difficulty taming.

“It..it wasn’t for anyone really.”

You weren’t sure why you said that. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. You knew why. You wanted him to know those photos weren’t for anyone in particular. That no other man had seen that. Frank’s head cocked to the side at your confession, eager for you to continue but staying quiet.

“I..um..that was for Karen.”

If Frank’s cock wasn’t throbbing before, it definitely was now. His eyes widened in surprise, and you must have been able to read his thoughts at that very moment, because you rolled your eyes playfully and giggled as your full lips split into a playful grin.

“Not..not like that, Castle. We just..got drunk one night and somehow got on the topic of lingerie and..I told her I’d never owned any before and..um..wanted to know what it felt like..to wear it. So, she talked me into buying some. We actually bought the same set, hers is pink. But we didn’t remember any of that. So when it came in, Karen sent me a picture of hers and asked how mine looked so I um..sent her one back.”

Frank was thanking any God that was listening that he had brought a backpack today, and that it was currently conveniently placed over his prominent bulge. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was about what you had just said that was driving him absolutely mad. He couldn’t pinpoint if it was the fact that you had taken a photo like that to send to Karen, or the fact that he was the only person besides Karen that had ever seen that photo. That he was the only man that had seen you all dressed up like that. A sudden wave of possessiveness washed over him, and he knew he had to snap out of it. The room felt like it was shrinking and he could feel sweat starting to form along his hairline. He had to get the fuck out of that office. Away from you.

“Oh..well..uh..again, no worries. It..looks nice. Just uh, send me the photos when ya get a minute? Gotta..go meet a guy. Thanks again.”

Frank was on his feet in a flash and bolting out the door without another word, leaving you there stunned by his reply. His boots thudded heavily against the steps with every furious step he took, swearing at himself along the way.

“Fuckin’ idiot. ‘Looks nice’? Seriously? That’s the best you could fuckin’ come up with? You dumb motherfucker.”

Frank paused at the bottom of the steps, waging an internal moral war within himself. Part of him wanted to turn around, march right back up to your office, tell you what he really thought about the picture, then bend you over your desk and fuck you six ways from Sunday. But he knew better. He couldn’t get involved with you. He couldn’t get involved with anyone. 

»»———　　———««

It had been two weeks since you had heard from Frank. That wasn’t totally unusual. Frank was known to disappear for weeks, even months at a time, then would show back up when he needed something. You had met him several months ago through Karen. You had drunkenly confessed your crush on the big, bad Punisher to her. You knew she had a weird, complicated friendship with Frank. Karen was your best friend, and you two shared a lot of familiar trauma and a complicated moral compass. You both felt like you could understand Frank’s motives, subtly justifying his actions to no one but each other. That was why she knew she could trust you with him.

Seven months ago, Frank had showed up at your door at one-thirty in the morning, completely covered in blood. To say you were surprised was an understatement. Your shock must have been clearly written all over your features when you answered the door to find none other than Frank Castle leaning against the doorway, face covered in fresh bruises and gashes that were dripping with molasses of deep crimson. After what felt like an eternity of silence, he grunted and nodded his head towards you.

“Karen said you were a friend. Knew your way ‘round a first aid kit.”

All the pieces started to slowly come together in your head. Karen was out of town for a conference with the Bulletin. Frank must have come looking for her, and she had most likely redirected him to you in her absence, knowing that you would help him. Frank looked somewhat..nervous? His dark eyes trailed over you with uncertainty, clearly still unsure how trustworthy you were. He must have either been desperate or in a lot of pain to bite the bullet and follow Karen’s instructions to find you. Blinking away your stunned expression, you willed your foggy brain to clear up as you swung your door open wider and held your trembling hand out towards him.

“Oh..yeah, sorry. I..I wasn’t expecting anyone. Um..come in. What uh..what do you need?”

That was the first time you had patched up Frank. Your hands shook slightly with trepidation, due to the fact that Frank was hurt badly and you didn’t want to make it worse, but also due to the fact that you were face to face with the Frank Castle for the first time. Pictures didn’t do him justice. He didn’t make small talk, not that you really expected him to. He sat there silently, grunting every now and then as you stitched him back together and cleaned his various wounds, all the while watching you with complete scrutiny. When he finally passed out from either blood loss or exhaustion, you stayed up all night curled up in the chair across from the small couch his body had completely overtaken. If you hadn’t been so stressed, you might have laughed at the sight of his large body dangling off your tiny couch. 

You checked his breathing every twenty minutes, only stopping after two hours when his large hand darted out to grab onto your wrist carefully. His touch was rough and warm, a juxtaposition you welcomed eagerly. Your eyes widened slightly at just how large his hand was compared to your own, completely covering your fingertips up to the beginning of your forearm. Your breath hitched in your throat as he opened his eyes to look up at you, the moonlight filtering through your curtains illuminating a sliver of his hardened features. An achingly beautiful mosaic of purples and blues were scattered over his face where bruises had begun to bloom like the first day of spring. There was a tiny glint of reverence in his obsidian eyes that nearly knocked the breath out of you.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re hurt, and I really don’t want you to die in my living room.”

“You doubtin’ your own work, doc?”

“I..I’m not a doctor, Frank. Nor any version of a licensed medical professional. I’m an editor for fucks sake. I read manuscripts for a living. I just happen to know my way around a first aid kit because I have three fearless and extremely reckless younger brothers.”

That was the first time, and one of the only times, you ever saw Frank Castle smile. The corners of his mouth curved upwards into the ghost of a miniscule grin. You wanted it to last forever. But as most things with Frank, it was fleeting, and as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished. His large hand gently squeezed at your wrist before letting go. You hated how quickly you already missed the brief contact.

“I ain’t gonna die. Trust me, I’ve had worse. Get some sleep.”

“Frank-”

“Karen trusts you. So do I.”

»»———　　———««

And that was typically how it went over the next few months. If Karen was out of town or busy with a deadline, Frank came to you. Sometimes, he came straight to you anyway, grumbling some excuse about Karen being wrapped up in something. It made your heart swell with pride that you had won Frank’s trust, and that sometimes he came to you just because he wanted to. That he considered you two something along the lines of friends. There were moments that made you question if there was room for more than that. Frank always guided you to the opposite side of the sidewalk when you were out, taking the spot closest to the street himself. Sometimes he placed his large hand carefully on your lower back to usher you in the correct direction if you weren’t paying enough attention to where you were walking, the gentle act sending your brain into a frenzy. He even memorized your coffee order, although he would always insult it and scoff before giving it to you. “You ever try gettin’ any actual coffee with all that sweet shit?” You had tried several times to work up the courage to flirt with him in a way that was light enough it could be played off as banter, but you were never brave enough.

You supposed you could chalk all those little moments up to him just being a gentleman, and anything else you had derived had been a figment of your own imagination. Frank was a stoic, broody, incredibly intimidating man. He was never mean to you, of course. He had never been anything but gentle with you. Still, you were afraid. You could never gauge what he was feeling unless it was anger. He was extremely difficult to read, and he didn’t talk more than he had to. Frank was also a very complicated man, still very clearly in mourning of what he had lost. It felt wrong to invade on that. 

You thought you would eventually get used to the sight of him shirtless, or only in boxers. But unfortunately for you, that day never came. As a matter of fact, every time you saw him begin to shred his torn and bloodied clothes, it only made the ache between your thighs that much more unbearable. He was absolutely captivating. Every inch of muscle was defined perfectly, from his broad shoulders down to the delicious v lines that disappeared beneath the waistband of his briefs. Frank’s arms were bigger than your head, and his hands..God you loved his hands. You wanted to know what they felt like wrapped around your throat, digging into your hips, palming at your chest. You didn’t turn your eyes away from the scars that were scattered across his skin, but they did send fresh cracks throughout your heart every time they were on display. You wanted to trace your fingertips over them, and gently kiss every single one of them away. You knew the scars that covered his skin were nothing compared to the ones you couldn’t see.

There was one night you thought you had finally been caught. Your hands were shaking, not because you were nervous or because the gash on Frank’s hip was really bad, but because he was so close to you, closer than he had ever been. You were on your knees right beside him while he laid back on the couch, arm propped up behind his head showcasing his bulging bicep. Your palm was flat against his lower abdomen, right above the waistband of his briefs, as your other carefully stitched his torn flesh back together.

His dick was essentially staring you in the face beneath the thin fabric and it made it hard to focus. Everytime you moved in closer to Frank, your heart pounded so hard against your ribcage you were certain he could hear it in the silence. Feeling the warmth radiating from the proximity to his skin, skimming the taut muscle under your fingertips, smelling the scent of his musky cologne that filled your small apartment for days even after he left, it drove you wild. Frank chuckled deeply as he placed his large hand completely over yours, tearing your unfiltered attention back to his face.

“You keep shakin’ like that, you’re gonna stab me. I’ve had my fill of bein’ stabbed for one evenin’.”

“I..Sorry.”

“S’alright. I just need ya to relax for me, can ya do that?”

Your mouth went dry at his words. You knew he hadn’t meant for them to sound so suggestive, but it stirred something deep within you. You would do fucking anything that man asked. Letting out a deep breath, you pushed your selfish thoughts to the back of your mind and licked your lips, nodding your head slowly.

“Yeah..yeah, I-I’m sorry. This one’s just..it’s pretty bad, Frank.”

“I’ll live. Take your time, darlin’.”

Oh. That was new. The tone of Frank’s voice was so soft and gentle in comparison to the usual gruffness of it that it made you almost wanna cry. You had never heard him talk to anyone that way, not even Karen. Frank was never aggressive or demanding with you, but he usually wasn’t so soft spoken either. He had certainly never called you anything other than your name before. Frank’s voice was another thing you loved. It was so rough and coarse, the deep bass of it traveled straight to your core every time he spoke.

“Ya’know, we were trained to do this shit. Never know when you gotta piece someone back together while shit’s explodin’ around ya. We were trained for months, ya’know?. I tell ya, first time I ever had to stitch one of my guys up, I was scared shitless. It’s easy to prepare to do somethin’, but ya never actually know what it’s gonna be like ‘til you do.”

That was one of the few times Frank had ever opened up about his past to you, clueing you in to the Frank that might still be there under all the jagged layers of pain and trauma. It made you smile, that he felt comfortable enough to share that with you, like you had won over another small piece of him. A tiny victory. 

“It’s really hard for me to imagine you being scared.”

“I’m still human. Sure, I get scared sometimes. Not as much these days, ya’know. Not as much to lose.”

»»———　　———««

Unbeknownst to you, Frank had spent every single night of the past two weeks with one hand wrapped viciously around his cock and the other death gripped onto his phone with your risque picture on display. He knew it was wrong. He knew he should feel bad about it. Frank really did try to get that picture out of his head. He took cold shower after cold shower, cleaned every single gun in his collection twice, and even tried to take his frustrations out on the unlucky fucks that dared to get in his way. But it was no use. The swell of his cock refused to go down until he paid it some attention. It was relentless and Frank was desperate.

It was supposed to just happen once. Frank was supposed to get it out of his system, delete the picture, and move on. But every night he found a reason not to get rid of it. Every night, he had an excuse. He felt like a raging, horny teenager all over again, fucking his hand into the mattress of the motel bed every night to the sight of you in the barely there black lace, imagining what you would feel like wrapped around him. Frank hadn’t touched himself in weeks, had been too busy and focused to cater to his own needs. But wild imaginations of you had him feeling like he was going to fucking explode if he couldn’t give himself some relief. Throughout the day he was ansty, even more irritable than usual, hardly able to fucking sit still as he thought about what was waiting for him once he got back to his room.

It wasn’t just the picture that preoccupied his mind. Frank felt like he was fucking consumed with you. He found himself thinking about you constantly, wondering how your day at work was, if you were safe, what book you had your nose in this week, what latest bakery treat you were trying your hand at. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, you had grown on him immensely. He made excuses for himself when he would opt to visit you instead of Karen. He tricked himself into believing that Karen was busy instead of facing the truth that he just wanted to see you. Just wanted to hear your laugh when he said something you thought was funny. Just wanted to borrow another book from your collection to get a glimpse into your mind. Just wanted to pretend to be a burden when you offered to let him stay for dinner because it was the only fucking sense of normalcy he had these days. Just wanted to feel your soft touch on his skin as you carefully mended all of the parts of him that were torn and broken, even the parts you couldn’t see.

That picture shed a light on something that Frank had been desperately trying to ignore since the moment he met you and experienced your undeserved kindness. A feeling Frank swore he would never, and could never, encounter again. Part of him felt guilty. How could he be infatuated with another woman when he was still waist deep in revenge for the one he lost? The other part of him could no longer deny how badly he wanted you. That curtain had been pulled back, a glaring spotlight on everything Frank had tried to hide from these past few months. There was no more pretending.

Frank had a choice to make. It was either give in, or let you go. For good. His struggles with his feelings for you were beginning to get in the way of his work and if he wasn’t careful, he was gonna make a mistake in a big way. He had to make a choice, and fast, consequences be damned.

»»———　　———««

You had just finished getting out of a steamy shower, humming softly to yourself as you rubbed your favorite velvet amber and patchouli scented lotion all over your damp skin. After letting your hair down from the messy knot on top of your head, you put on a pair of silky sleep shorts and a tank top, slipping a pair of fuzzy socks onto your feet. You continued to hum as you padded through the open living room to the kitchen that was connected, not even noticing the dark figure sitting in the corner that was silently observing you. As you reached for a wine glass from the cabinet, a deep voice cut through the quiet and burst your blissful ignorance. 

“You really need a security system.”

You jumped with a squeal at the sound of the voice, instantly whipping around to face the dark figure with widened eyes. You had a few candles burning on the coffee table that cast an ambient golden glow over your apartment. You had planned a relaxing evening for yourself and decided not to run up your electricity bill when you had so many candles that you had been excited to burn. Your heart beat frantically in your chest as you squinted your eyes, trying to make out the silhouette in the corner.

“S’just me, darlin’. Don’t freak out.”

“Frank?”

“Didn’t even reach for a knife or nothin’. Thought I taught you better than that.”

A deep, breathy sigh of relief sounded from you as Frank slowly stood and took a few steps forward into the dim light, his large frame finally coming into view. You rubbed your palms over your face slowly, feeling your nerves start to settle now that there was not in fact an intruder in your apartment.

“Jesus, Frank. You nearly sent me into cardiac arrest. Why didn’t you make any noise when you came in?”

Frank stared at you silently, an unreadable expression plastered over his face. For a moment, he heavily regrets not alerting you that he was here while you were in the shower. Maybe you wouldn’t be wearing those tiny little shorts and a tank top with no bra. He grinds his teeth as he takes in your appearance. He can still see little droplets of water gliding down your collarbones, soaking into the fabric of your tank top. Your hair cascaded over your shoulders in loose waves, and your cheeks were still twinged pink from the heat of the shower. He can smell the scent of your lotion over all the burning candles, and it made his fingers twitch at his sides. 

“Sorry. Tried to holler, but don’t think ya heard me over the shower.”

That was a lie. He had knocked though, and then began to panic when you didn’t answer. It was late on a Saturday, so he knew you weren’t at work. The thought briefly crossed his mind that you could be on a date, but he furiously pushed that to the back of his mind as he fished for his spare key to your place and shoved the door open. His right hand flew to the gun tucked into the belt of his jeans, ready to shoot at whoever as his eyes darted rapidly around your apartment. He only stilled when he heard the sound of running water and the melodic tune of your voice as you sang some fucking pop song he didn’t recognize.

Frank had quietly shut the door, securing both locks into place before taking a seat in the chair in the corner of the room. He closed his eyes and relaxed back against the chair as he listened to you sing in the shower. It was a complete invasion of privacy, but definitely not the worst one he had committed when it came to you. Frank thought you sounded like an angel. He wanted to hear you sing more. Maybe he’d play guitar for you, if you’d sing along. Your voice caused a wave of calm to wash over him that he hadn’t felt in weeks. Although, it was short lived when he heard the water cut off and quickly had to come up with an excuse as to why he was sitting in the dark waiting for you.

You hadn’t noticed the way Frank was looking at you since your eyes were too busy scanning over his entire body for injuries. You tilted your head to the side, brows knit together quizzically as you made your way over to stand in front of him. Normally when Frank showed up like this, he was bloody, and there were wounds to be cleaned or stitched. But you didn’t see anything. No cuts. No scrapes. No bruises. No gashes or bullet holes from what you could tell. Not a single piece of his hair was even out of place. You dipped your head back to stare up at Frank in bemusement.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? I..I don’t see any holes.”

You smiled at your own little stupid joke, but it quickly faltered when you took in the look on his face. Frank had begun to give in a little to your lame attempts to make him laugh, granting you mercy and offering the faintest of smiles or chuckles in response. But he wasn’t smiling, or laughing. His strong jaw was set in a hard line, and his expression was stony. There was something in his eyes though..something unfamiliar you had never seen before.

“I’m fine.”

Both of you stared at one another silently for what felt like hours. You began to feel uneasiness seep into your bones, feeling suddenly even smaller under his harsh gaze. Frank was huge, physically and height-wise. He always towered a good foot over you, which never made you feel unsettled until right now. He looked almost..mad? In that moment, you felt for everyone that had ever been on the receiving end of this menacing look. They didn’t have the luxury of knowing Frank Castle wouldn’t hurt them. Not like you did. Swallowing thickly, you took a shaky breath and spoke softly.

“So..if you don’t need patching up..what do you need, Frank?”

“To confess.”

Frank’s voice had dipped an impossible octave deeper and it caused you to shiver along with sending a flood of wetness between your thighs. You tried not to focus so much on his voice and instead on his words, feeling even more perplexed as they settled in your ears. You tilted your head slightly to the side as you stared up at him curiously.

“I..I’m not sure I’m the best person for the job. I’m not religious, Frank. You know that.”

“Yeah, but you’re the closest thing to an angel I’ve ever seen. Besides, it ain’t that kinda confession.”

Your heart thudded loudly in your ears and you felt warmth creeping onto your face, settling into a deep rosy tint that covered the expanse of your cheekbones. Your lips parted in surprise at his words. Frank had never said anything to you like that before. You had no idea where this was coming from, but you desperately wanted to find out.

“Oh..well..I’m not a cop either.”

“I know that, smartass.”

There was an edge to Frank’s voice that submissed you into silence. He wasn’t in the mood for games or playful banter. This was uncharted territory for you. Frank hadn’t been so impassive since the first night you met him, but he had also never spoken in such a harsh tone to you. It caused you to take a step back, and some kind of recognition flashed in Frank’s eyes about his slip. He wasn’t angry with you. He was angry with himself. He dipped his head for a moment, letting out a deep sigh through his nose before meeting your gaze again with a slightly softer expression.

“I need to confess somethin’ to you, personally.”

You didn’t know whether to speak or not, so you kept quiet, staring up into his dark ebony eyes and trying to find something, anything you could use to decipher his cryptic words. But he gave nothing away. Frank had an excellent poker face. There was nothing there but the emotion that was burning brightly in his stare that you still couldn’t identify. Frank squared his shoulders, bracing himself for whatever reaction you were about to have. It was now or never.

“I didn’t delete it.”

You blinked a few times as you tried to process his words, racking your brain for anything that would make them make sense. Confusion settled onto your features as you waited for Frank to continue, but he didn’t. He just stared at you in anticipation.

“What?”

“The picture. I didn’t delete it.”

It felt like your brain was swiveling back and forth as you tried to keep up. You had been so busy with work the past few weeks, and worrying about Frank, that you had almost forgotten about the photo you had accidentally sent him. Once that lightbulb went off in your head, your eyes widened slightly, lips parting to form an “o” shape, but you still didn’t speak. You had no idea what to say. You were still trying to process what he just said. Why did he say that? What did he mean?

“Oh.”

Frank’s hard stare shifted from your eyes to your full lips, trying to get a reading on what was going through your head. You typically wore all of your emotions, and normally that always helped clue him in to what you were feeling, but right now he couldn’t fucking tell. He could see the scarlet coating your cheeks, but he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment, anger or..something else. But that one simple word you uttered had completely taken him by surprise. His dark brows furrowed as they knit in the middle of his forehead, staring down at you in bewilderment.

“That’s it?”

“I..don’t really know what to say.”

“You ain’t mad?”

“Why?”

Frank cocked his head to the side as he stared down at you. He had prepared himself for a million different reactions from you. He had rehearsed an apology speech, was gonna let you use him as your own personal punching bag, nearly wore a goddamn bulletproof vest just in case. But this..was not in the realm of his expectations.

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

“Why did you keep it?”

Frank paused for a moment. Maybe there was a chance to salvage this. He could lie. He could say he just forgot about it, realized his mistake, and wanted to apologize. But you didn’t look mad that he kept it. You looked..intrigued. You weren’t yelling at him, calling him a pervert and tossing him out of your apartment, so he decided to press his luck and take it a step further. Fuck it.

“Because I thought you looked fucking beautiful in it.”

Frank’s words nearly knocked the breath right out of your lungs. You were having a hard time processing them, even as they echoed loudly in your ears over and over again. That fire that was burning in his predatory gaze was now roaring loudly, setting you ablaze along with it once realization set in. It wasn’t anger swirling around in Frank’s eyes, it was lust. 

You had to be dreaming. This had to be a dream. There was no way Frank Castle himself was here, standing in front of you, telling you he thought you were beautiful. Your brain wouldn’t accept it. This had to be some sick, twisted trick your mind was playing on you. Warmth spread between your thighs like wildfire at his admission, the wetness already there doing nothing to put it out. Frank’s stare was unwavering. He wouldn’t tear his eyes away from you. As if he could sense your apprehension, he took a bold step forward and hooked his index finger under your chin, tilting your head back so that you had to look up at him.

“C’mon, darlin. Talk to me. Tell me what’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours. ”

“I..I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“You think I’m pretty.”

Frank chuckled lightly, brushing the calloused pad of his thumb experimentally over your cheekbone in a soothing manner. 

“No, I said I think you’re beautiful.”

“Why?”

“The hell you mean ‘why’?”

You couldn’t think of an answer. You couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of Frank lightly dragging his thumb slowly along the edge of your bottom lip, his gaze dropping just for a moment to linger on your mouth. Your eyes fluttered closed at the contact, reveling in the sensation of his touch on you for once. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

Your eyes instantly flew open at his gruff words, and a tiny smirk curled onto the corner of his mouth at your obedience. Cupping your cheek gently, he took a slight step forward to close the gap between you, placing his other hand gingerly on your lower back. He pulled you in languidly until you were flush against him, scanning your face for any sign of discomfort, but he didn’t find any. You melted into his touch, leaning your face into his rough palm like you had dreamed of so many nights before. You weren’t pulling away. You weren’t telling him to leave. You weren’t angry. You wanted this too.

“Atta girl. You been so damn good to me these past few months, sweetheart. You gonna let me be good to you?”

You sighed softly at his words, nodding your head eagerly as your hands flew up to grip tightly onto the collar of his black denim jacket. As you stood up on your tiptoes to capture his lips, both of his large hands grasped onto your waist to keep you in place as he stared down into your eyes with a shake of his head.

“I need words, sweet girl. C’mon, needa hear it. Tell me you want this too.”

“I want it, Frank. Please..please.”

That was all the affirmation Frank needed to crash his lips onto yours like violent waves in a perilous storm. The kiss was hungry and desperate, and you found yourself getting lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. He was everywhere but you felt like you couldn’t be close enough. You fervently shoved the worn denim down his shoulders, letting it fall carelessly onto the floor beneath as your fingers attempted to work on the buttons on his shirt. Frank chuckled against your mouth as he broke the kiss, grabbing both of your wrists in one of his large hands.

“Easy baby, we got all night.”

“But-”

“Shh. Let me take care of you for once, yeah?”

Before you could register what was happening, Frank had wrapped his strong arms around your waist and lifted you as if you weighed nothing, crossing the small space of your apartment in short strides towards your bedroom. You half expected him to toss you down onto the mattress, and were pleasantly surprised when he carefully sat you down on the edge of your bed. You dipped your head back to stare up at him in wonder.

Anticipation buzzed throughout your veins and you felt your breath hitch in your throat when Frank slowly kneeled down in front of you to be eye level with you. His large hands came down to rest on your bare thighs, squeezing gently to get your attention.

“The second I do somethin’ you don’t like, you let me know. At any point you change your mind, or wanna stop, tell me. I won’t be mad. Understand?”

Nodding your head fervently, you surged forward and grasped Frank’s face in your hands, hungrily chasing the taste of his lips. He chuckled against your mouth, tearing himself away which caused you to whine softly as he gently grabbed your wrists.

“C’mon, honey. What’d I tell ya? Need your words. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand Frank just..please..kiss me.”

You didn’t care how needy and desperate you sounded. Months and months of built up frustration were making you more impatient than usual. You had been dreaming about this for so long, and it was finally happening. You found yourself momentarily suspended in belief that Frank actually thought there was anything he could do that you wouldn’t absolutely love. 

“Yes ma’am.”

Frank settled on his knees in between your thighs, grabbing onto the back of your head as his other hand found its home on your waist. Your lips were incredibly soft and tasted of that pink grapefruit chapstick that you were always wearing. As he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, you meekly whined, and the sound went straight to his cock. Frank was caught in tandem between wanting to take his time and worship every inch of you and wanting to be selfish and finally bury himself to the hilt inside of you.

This time when your timid fingers went to work on the buttons of his shirt, he didn’t stop you. He decided to let you set the pace, and would only go as far as you wanted. He tore his hands away from you only for a brief moment as you pushed the shirt over his broad shoulders, instantly returning his touch to every spare expanse of your skin he could find to ground himself to reality. You were here, and you wanted him. 

Your fingertips brushed against every curve of muscle, every raised and indented scar like you had done so many times before, but this time with renewed vigor. Frank’s skin was always so warm and you savored every ember of his heat. His fingertips cautiously slipped under the hem of your tank top, dancing over the exposed skin of your hips as he brought his lips near your ear.

“Can I take this off, honey?”

“Yes.”

You were surprised at how quickly you were able to answer. Lifting your arms above your head, you let Frank tug the soft fabric upwards, letting out a soft hiss when the chill in the room nipped at your exposed chest. Frank’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of you nearly naked before him, a low groan emitting in the back of his throat. He didn’t hesitate to lean in and latch his mouth around one of your peaked nipples causing a soft moan to tumble from your lips. The warmth of his mouth contrasted so sharply with your cold bedroom that it had your head spinning. You arched your back to grant your chest fully to Frank, becoming a whimpering mess as his large hand fondled your breast and played with your other nipple. You gripped onto the back of his neck, growing wetter by the second from his delectable assault on your chest.

“Frank..please..”

“What is it baby? What do ya need, hm? Tell me what ya need, I’ll give you anything. Anything you fuckin’ want.”

“Please touch me.”

You should be embarrassed at how breathy you sounded, already so worked up from so little. But that was just the effect Frank had on you, and he fucking loved it. He loved how responsive you were to his touch, and his words. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your little shorts and panties, giving the elastic on both a faint tug.

“Gotta take these off. Gonna let me do that, hm?”

“Please.”

Frank thought he was gonna cum in his pants just from the way you were already begging for him. He had barely even touched you yet, and his excitement only grew for how you would react when he finally did. In a flash, you were completely bare before him, and Frank thought you were the most beautiful fucking thing he had ever seen. Leaning in closer, his broad shoulders spread your thighs further apart to give him a better view of your glistening cunt, and he was fucking done for.

“Fuck sweetheart. You been like this the whole fuckin’ time?”

You shuddered at the ravenous look in Frank’s eyes as he zeroed in on your soaked pussy. The wetness that had accumulated since his confession had grown unbearable, and you just needed him to do something. Anything. 

“Everytime you’re around.”

Frank’s eyes darkened considerably as they flickered up towards your face, a wicked glint dancing around in his irises. 

“That right?”

Capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, you nodded your head quickly, feeling heat spreading even further throughout your thighs.

“My poor girl. That’s just fuckin’ mean of me, ain’t it? You take such good care of me, and I leave you like this. Fuckin’ cruel of me. You gonna let me take care of you now?”

Frank's large hands slowly inched up your thighs, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the tops of them. He stared you down intently as he braced his palms on your inner thighs, spreading you open completely for him. Raising his hand up slowly, he hovered his thumb over your clit as he waited for your answer. 

“Please, Frank.”

“Atta girl.”

The contact of his rough thumb pressing against your clit had you jolting upwards, a surprised gasp leaving your mouth without warning. Frank gripped onto your hip to keep you steady, using his index finger to collect some of your slick before starting to rub slow, purposeful circles around your clit. You moaned at the relief you felt when he touched you, grabbing onto one of his shoulders to tug him in closer. Frank fucking loved the way you sounded, and he wanted more of it. He slowly increased his speed, applying more pressure here and there before slowly slipping his index finger inside of you. He took a moment to gather himself at how tight you felt around just his finger, his cock twitching in his jeans at the thought of how easily he could ruin you for any other man.

“There we go, that’s my good girl. Go on, move those hips. Just like that baby. C’mon sweetheart, take what you need.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your hips against Frank’s hand, watching the way his arm flexed everytime he pushed his finger back inside your greedy pussy. He followed your movements like the tide chasing the moon, pushing back wherever you pulled. A louder moan rang throughout your otherwise silent apartment when he added a second finger, curling them both upon exit in a beckoning manner that had your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head. He hadn’t even fucked you, and you were ruined. You would never be able to touch yourself again. You would never be as good as Frank. No one would.

“Doin’ so fuckin’ well for me, baby. Knew you would. Look so beautiful like this. Gonna let me taste you, hm? Bet you taste so fuckin’ sweet.”

Frank didn’t bother to wait for you to answer this time. The alluring noises you made were enough for him to pull you further to the edge of the bed by your hips, diving in to devour you completely. A silent cry hung in your throat when he wrapped his lips around your swollen clit and began to suckle, all the while still driving his thick fingers inside you at unexplored depths. You were hanging on the edge by a thread, trying your hardest to will away your orgasm so he would keep his head between your thighs forever. Your fingers weaved through his dark tresses, loving how good he looked with his hair slightly grown out, but loving even more that you had something to pull on. 

Frank hummed at your taste. He fucking growled against your pussy and the vibrations had your thighs shaking around his head. You tried to give him a warning, but there was no time. You couldn’t find your voice. The second he started flicking his tongue over your sensitive nub at an inhuman pace while curling his fingers against that spongy spot inside you, you were coming apart and Frank was there to collect every drop. Your inner thighs burned from the abrasiveness of his stubble, but you welcomed it eagerly. If anything, it was at least one reminder that tonight had been real.

Frank didn’t stop his assault on your clit as you rode out your high on his fingers, continuing to lap up everything that you had to offer. You whimpered due to the sensitivity from your commanding orgasm, trying to push at Frank’s broad shoulders to get him to budge, but the stubborn fucker wouldn’t move. You could feel him grinning against your core, hear him chuckling softly at your whines and pleas. He was enjoying this. 

“God Frank, please. Please..I need a minute.”

Reluctantly, Frank leaned back and licked the rest of your release from his lips. You stared down at him breathlessly, wanting to commit every single detail of the sight before you to memory. His mouth and chin were still gleaming with your release, dark eyes wild and blown out, hair disheveled from your incessant tugging, and broad chest rising and falling quickly as he attempted to catch his breath. But the thing that stole the breath right out of your lungs was that Frank was smiling. Not a crooked one that took up the corner of his mouth, not his usual cocky smirk. A full on, mouth split wide open, all teeth on display, eyes crinkling at the corners, smile. If you hadn’t been so dazed out in bliss, you might have cried at the sight of it.

“You alright?”

“You’re smiling.”

“Hell yeah I’m smilin’. Just made my pretty girl come, and she tastes like fuckin’ heaven. What’s not to smile about?”

A blush crept on your cheeks at his words, causing you to mirror the grin that had taken over his mouth. 

“I’ve never seen you smile like that before.”

Frank raised up off his knees, leaning over the bed and placing both of his large hands on either side of your head as he looked down at you so tenderly, it made your stomach flip and nervousness settle in your ribcage. The look in his eyes felt so..intimate. 

“Ain’t had a reason to. Until you.”

Grabbing onto the back of Frank’s neck, you pulled him down to mold your lips together in a passionate kiss. You wanted him to feel everything. You wanted more. This kiss was different from the ones before. It was more patient and evocative, a silent understanding between you and Frank. Your fingertips trailed down the expanse of his chest until you reached the buckle of his belt, pulling the leather from the confinements and popping open the button of his jeans. His lips migrated along your jaw and down your neck, sucking softly at the juncture just above your collarbone.

His large hand wrapped around your throat, not tightly, but just to keep you close. His teeth skimmed along your neck as you tugged down his zipper, pushing his jeans and briefs down his hips to set him free. Frank let out a grateful groan when his cock slapped against his stomach, pulling back just for a moment to shred the layers of fabric completely. You clenched around nothing at the sight of him naked above you. God, he was beautiful. You greedily accepted his kiss once again when he settled his hips between yours, reaching between your bodies to carefully wrap your hand around his base, eliciting a delicious moan from his throat.

Frank was hard, and looked painfully so. You smoothed your thumb over the leaking tip of his cock, causing his hips to jerk forward slightly. He was incredibly thick and long, feeling unbelievably heavy in your small hand.

“Shit. Feels even better than I imagined.”

Your eyes darted up to meet Frank’s at his quiet confession, searching the midnight pools intently as a tiny smirk tugged at your lips.

“Frank Castle. You’ve thought about me touching you like this?”

There wasn’t even a shred of shame in Frank’s eyes as he stared down at you with a wolfish grin, leaning in to brush his nose along yours as you continued to stroke him slowly.

“Might’ve left out the part where I’ve been gettin’ off to that picture you sent me every night the past couple weeks.”

Your mouth dropped open and your eyes went wide, a hearty laugh rumbling deep within Frank’s chest.

“And you’re just telling me this now?”

“I thought you’d be mad.”

“Do I look mad?”

“No, and I’m so fuckin’ glad you’re not. Thought I was gonna have to say goodbye to you tonight.”

Frank carefully pried your hand off of him and replaced it with his own, rubbing the head of his cock between your slick folds and teasing your clit every time he did so. Your brows furrowed at his words, but the second you felt the weight of him rubbing against your still sensitive clit, you gasped sharply. Gripping onto his bicep, you struggled through the pleasure to keep your eyes open. You weren’t letting those words go so easily.

“Why would you say that Frank?”

Frank hated that he could hear the hurt that laced your question, leaning in to press his forehead against yours as he sighed deeply. His hips moved at a tedious pace to keep you both placated, but not enough to satisfy what either of you really wanted.

“Thought you’d be mad, never wanna see me again. Thought..fuck, that I couldn’t have you. Shouldn’t have you. You’re too good to me, sweetheart. Too good for me. Didn’t think I deserved somethin’ so..fuck, so good.”

Frank’s face was twisted up in a concoction of hedonism and self deprecation. You knew what he thought of himself. You knew you would never be able to get him to see what you saw in him. But that didn’t mean that you were going to stop trying. You lifted your hands to cradle his face, parted lips stretching into the best smile you could offer when he was dragging his cock lazily through your folds.

“You didn’t think to ask me what I wanted?”

At that, you lifted your hips slightly, signaling that you were ready for more. That you wanted more. Frank took the hint and slipped the head of his cock into your entrance, watching the way your eyes lulled shut at the feeling. It took every ounce of will power he had not to dive inside your body. He took his time, moving inch by inch, allowing you to adjust to his size. It felt like you were fucking suffocating him, and for a minute he was genuinely worried he wouldn’t be able to last. Once he had finally bottomed out, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck and let a strangled moan escape. You dug your fingertips into his shoulders as he stretched your walls to their limits, sucking in a breath at the burning trail he created.

Frank pulled your legs up to wrap around his hips, snaking one of his arms beneath you and around your waist to keep your chest flush to his. He was fucking terrified that at any moment you would disappear. Frank remained as patient as possible, awaiting with bated breath for you to tell him he could move. He couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted something so fucking badly.

Turning your head slightly, you pressed the gentlest kiss to the skin beneath his ear. Frank lifted his head slightly so he could get a good look at you, feeling his heart race at the sight of you beneath him.

“I want you, Frank. All of you. If you want me too, then have me. Please.”

Frank stared down at you in disbelief, trying to figure out what the fuck he had done so right that had led him to this moment right here, with you. But who was he to say no to you? Without another word, he retracted his hips slightly just to bring them flush with yours again. He marveled at the sight of you under him, kiss-bitten lips red and swollen and parted, his name falling in breathy pants and moans from them over and over every time he reached that peak inside you. He could fucking die like this.

“Feel too fuckin’ good sweetheart, not gonna make it much longer. Need ya to let go with me. Can you do that for me, sweet girl? Hm?”

You weren’t sure if you nodded or even spoke. You weren’t sure if you gave any indication at all to Frank that you were coherent and understood what he asked. 

“Look at me, baby. Wanna see those pretty eyes when you fall apart.”

The second his fingers found your clit, you were seeing stars. This orgasm was so much fucking stronger than the last one, it suckerpunched every bit of oxygen out of you and you found yourself struggling to breathe. Violent tremors shook throughout your body and you fought so hard to keep your eyes open just long enough to watch Frank fall apart just as hard above you. Your legs tightened around his waist and you gripped onto the back of his neck, holding on as much as he could as his hips stuttered against yours roughly when he finally spilled into you. The loud moan that ripped through his chest was like music to your ears and it nearly sent you over the edge again.

The room felt like a sauna, sweltering and sticky with Frank’s body heat and the combination of your releases hanging heavily in the air. Frank’s panting breaths and your desperate whimpers were the only things your ears could register. Your brain had seemingly shut off and your vision became incredibly fuzzy while you were coming down. You weren’t sure how long that lasted, but the feeling of a calloused finger stroking your cheek seemed to tether you back to reality.

Frank beamed down at you when you slowly opened your eyes, taking in the completely blissful, fucked out look on your face. You nuzzled into his palm, finding your lips maneuvering into a smile of their own accord. 

“There’s my girl. Thought I lost you for a second there. Was worried I broke you.”

A symphonious giggle fell from your lips and Frank couldn’t help but grin even wider at the sound. You hummed softly as you looked up at him, shaking your head slowly.

“I don’t break so easily, Castle. Guess you’ll just have to keep trying.”

“That right?”

Lightly gripping onto the chain around his neck, you pulled him down to meet you in a head-spinning kiss. His large hand grabbed your face gently, and you giggled when you felt him nip at your bottom lip.

“That’s right.”

“Well, practice does make perfect.”

The Serpent and The Jaguar

Pairing: Namor x F!Reader

Summary: "All the beautiful flowers you've brought me and you put a dying one in my hair?" you mutter, confused. "What is the meaning of this?"

Warning: Public sex, rough sex

There's a bathhouse in the capital of Jabari Land, just on the outskirts of Gorilla City, the perfect therapeutic recreation to soothe tension after suffering the company of colonizers.

Your father had insisted on you joining him for an informal diplomatic conference in Italy over the weekend. Your two older siblings in line for the throne could've gone but he'd been adamant about you getting some experience under your belt. Overall, the trip could be summarized as boring. Long, drawn out conversations focusing on resources and trade that had always circled back to Wakanda's vibranium.

To make matters worse, another tedious sounding meeting in Golden City had been called the second the two of you arrived back home. You had slipped away, however, as the spirited and loudmouthed Elder M'Baku held your father's attention. The only person you wished to see likely not attending.

The former king and leader of the Jabari Tribe had been mentioning something about his city's bathhouse which put the idea in your mind to visit in the first place. It's been a while since you've visited Jabari Land; impossible to believe that such a beautiful place had been isolated from the rest of the country at one point.

The city's bathhouse is structured to resemble the smooth and cascading weathered boulders on the snowy mountains. Smaller huts can be seen in the distance, the steam baths used for individual medicinal purposes, healing sicknesses and couples trying for a child. Life-giving heat.

The bathhouse itself provides both indoor and outdoor facilities as well as public and private rooms offering a long list of amenities. Torches light the winding corridors, flickering on intricately designed rock carvings of the Jabari Tribe's glorious Hanuman. But the colors and markings of all five tribes fill the space, their warm laughter and chatter expressing eagerness for saunas and mud baths, luxuries that makes journeying to this cold, rough terrain worth it.

The staff have already prepared your favorite private room, appropriately named The Blackberry for the dark wood's sweet aroma and its deep, oval shaped tub made of the same material. A wooden torch pedestal stands in each corner. There's a few built in shelves, some stacked with smoking incense. Everything about the room was designed to maximize the tub which is filled to the brim with water, the steam rolling off in waves warming your chilled skin.

You undress and head for the adjoining closet sized space in the room to shower and scrub before you soak. While you're cleansing you hear the main room's door slam shut. Frowning, you distinctly recall informing the staff that you don't wish to be disturbed. Grabbing your robe from its hook and slipping it on, you step back out into the main room.

It's in an incredibly different state than the way you left it behind mere minutes ago.

The Blackberry is now completely filled with dozens of bouquets. They're on the towel and bottle lined shelves, surrounding the ground-level tub all the way to the door, flowers are even placed atop the birch logs suspending from the ceiling on hemp rope. Orchids and water lilies and marigolds. And these flowers shine in gorgeous yellows and oranges and reds, resembling the rising sun, contrasting pleasantly with the room's smooth blackwood.

The mutant god Namor of Talokan stands in the center of it all.

Technically, he's hovering with the aid of his buzzing wings. He's carefully arranging a handful of marigolds on one of the logs when he glances down at you. He's dressed in his usual attire. A gold and turquoise pectoral shaped into double headed serpents, his neck is adorned with pearls, ears and nose pierced with jade. And he's wearing those damned form fitting green trunks.

You've frozen up in surprise and stunned silence. A rush of emotions flood through you, the most palpable one pounding artlessly yet with pure sincerity at your heart like a child's first drum.

"You're here," you say with a gasp.

"At last, my favorite flower has come to join me," he practically purrs, a grin stretching across his face as he descends. "Princess." He reclines his head in a slight bow.

"K'uk'ulkan," you greet back with a fond smile, his name soft and sweet on your tongue. You've missed him and it's obvious the feeling was more than reciprocated. Time has not been kind, the both of you having been caught up in royal duties and responsibilities lately, it feels like ages to you. How long must it feel to him?

Kneeling down, you scoop up a bouquet and bury your nose in the flowers, inhaling deeply. "This is lovely," you murmur with burning cheeks, your eyes flitting to and away from his. "Thank you."

If you look at him right this second for too long you don't know what your eyes might tell him. Of course, he brought you flowers in typical Namor-like fashion. He brought you an entire garden's worth. He'd once told you that flowers reminded him of his mother who often mourned her gardens after being forced to leave her home. In his opinion, flowers are one of the few worthwhile offerings the surface world contains.

Namor doesn't reply, he doesn't have to, the heat in his gaze says enough.

He was intimidating as Bast sometimes. Not on purpose. Not towards you. Ever. He can't help the unsettling quietness in his movements, the burning eyes that tell a tale older than anyone he shares a room with, the heavy weariness his words could take on sometimes when it's just the two of you.

There's a playfulness to him as well.

"I brought the sun to my people, and now I bring it to you on this night," he says, pleased with himself.

You laugh. But touching as this gesture is, Namor is behaving very boldly. He could've seen you stark naked sneaking into your privately booked room like this. You suppose that's why such noise was made to alert you to his presence. He isn't anything like your former suitors, all promising young men of Wakanda from noble families, who you're certain Namor's scared off the moment he'd decided to tie your life to his.

And Namor's made it no secret that he's deadset on making you his.

It isn't merely for strengthening the alliance between Wakanda and Talokan. Or that you are a mutant with control over the earth, born from a mutant mother who commands the sky, and that an heir from you and the ruler of Talokan who controls the seas could likely take on anything in the world. This isn't strictly strategy and politics for him. Not when he goes about it with a naked vulnerability and lack of decorum with his words and actions.

You haven't exactly been acting with the dignity your station requires either. Sneaking off with him around Wakanda in the night when he visits, showing him the beauty of your land, off the beaten paths and sights untouched by human progress. Riding on the backs of whales, entwined in his arms as he dances with you above the Atlantic ocean.

"You know you shouldn't be here, it isn't appropriate," you warn with a tilt of your chin, and all the haughty regalness you normally love to poke fun at.

You have to admit every now and then that it's a bit exhilarating toying with a man revered as a god, whenever it was certain you could get away with it.

Namor smirks. Unconcerned. "You only have to say the word and I'll go."

And you don't.

Instead, you glimpse down at the tub he's blanketed with Lily of the Nile. Blue, purple, and white petals float atop the steaming, milky hot water. An expert you are not–especially in comparison to Namor–but you know this flower in particular is an...interesting choice. Feminine energy and rebirth and symbolic of the sun. The sudden flash of heat overcoming you has nothing to do with the room's temperature.

"Is that allowed?" you ask, unable to smother the meek amusement in your tone.

He laughs arrogantly. "I am Wakanda's honored guest, of course it is." It probably also helps that he's been friends with Elder M'Baku for nearly half a century.

Namor prowls around the tub, careful not to crush the flowers beneath him as he nears you.

Your fingers curl into the fluffy robe you're wearing and he takes the bouquet cradled in your arm, he turns away as you disrobe.

You slip into the tub with a contented hum, the dull sting of hot water instantly rewarding as you lower yourself in, limbs loosening and muscles relaxing. The water wraps around your shoulders like the finest silk sheet. The lilies kiss at your throat, and as you pull them below the surface as you wade backwards they glide over your stomach and thighs over your stomach and thighs.

Sighing, your eyes drift shut for one blissful moment before landing on Namor again as you rest your head against the tub's rim.

"This bathhouse is a sight for beauty, I can see why you favor it," Namor says, his eyes roaming above the domed wall before dropping to the swell of your breasts. "It reminds me of a temazcal."

He sits across from you, lowering his legs into the water. His strong, thick thighs and the bulge between them an eyeful unlike anything you've seen before.

"Does it?" you reply in a low rasp, licking your lips. You swim towards him, your fingers curling around his knee as an anchor. "You know...I wasn't made aware you would be here in my country today. It was me who should've been prepared with a gift."

"Your will is my gift," Namor says, bending down to caress your cheek. "To be here as long as you wish."

He must think you're a fool. Namor only plays by his rules. When a situation fails to satisfy him he'll find a way to bend it to his advantage eventually. You can tell him to leave right now and he will, but he'll come back the next day twice as determined.

You laugh giddily and distance yourself as much as you're able to, your feet brushing along the tub's edge. Oh, does that wipe the smile off his face. Amazing how impatient a five hundred year old can be.

"Would you like some company, princess?" he asks, staring at you as if he's thinking of all the ways he can plunder your heart and soul while leave nothing behind.

You forget yourself as it is so easy to do with him, losing all of your royal training and normally coolheaded instincts as you sputter out, "sure."

Namor chuckles gamely. Doesn't bother to remove anything as he dips into the bath with practiced grace. Before you can ask what's going through his mind he's slipping underneath the water and out of sight causing barely a stir.

A thrilling sort of panic has you grinning in anticipation. You gently push away from your position, intensely focusing on the murky water as you bend your legs to you curl into yourself. Pulse thrumming under your skin fast as his wings.

You're starting to grasp just how large and deep this tub is (it could easily fit at least ten people) when fingers slide up your calves. You squeak, jolting at the sensation and end up splashing water on your face as you flail and attempt to squirm out of his tightening grip, erupting into uncontrollable giggling.

"K'uk'ulkan," you call out, half whining and half exasperated. You then wince, remembering where you are and most importantly who you are.

You reach an arm into the water and feel his inky, soft hair swaying between your knees. The unmistakable pressure of his lips kissing up your calf to your thigh nearly drowns you then and there, a whimper catching in your throat. Gasping, you secure a grip to the back of his head before you find yourself sinking.

Namor emerges, sharp teeth and twinkling eyes, laughing boisterously.

You swat at his chest as your own heaves. Heat pools low in your belly at his closeness. And then your hand simply stays there, your other hand still running through his hair. He paws at your waist, pulling you closer and bends down–

You lower your head, resting it on his chest.

"Tell me what is troubling you?" he demands in a sweet, coaxing rumble. He wraps his arms around you more firmly, his nose nuzzles at your temple and he whispers in your ear. "I think we both know you're stalling what is inevitable, my little jaguar flower."

"You know...flowers don't last long once you've picked them," you solemnly explain, muffled into his skin. Nevertheless, you continue slowly stroking his hair and press your cheek onto his chest. "Perhaps we should consider that before we move any further, Namor."

"You don't need to worry about that."

"It is entirely selfish on my part, I assure you," you tell him, laughing humorlessly. "I can't bear the thought that when I'm gone I will have to live a life without you in the ancestral realm without ever seeing you again."

Namor assesses you with half-lidded eyes, his anger more stifling than the room's heat. He moves you both to the edge, reaches behind you and presents a wilting water lily.

You frown. It's the only flower in the room that isn't bright and lively. He tucks it behind your ear, the stem limp and petals bruised.

"You will not." He sounds as if it's already true. Written and recorded on his codice, you and him, a long and happy life rather than the blink of an eye that lays ahead if you continue this.

"All the beautiful flowers you've brought me and you put a dying one in my hair?" you mutter, confused. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I'll make sure death will never touch you so long as I breathe."

He leans forward to kiss you now, his fingers marking your waist.

"I will make it true," he hisses like the feathered serpent he is between your lips. "You only have to believe my word, little jaguar." As you stare up at him speechless and in shock he continues. "If I can bring life back to this water lily will you put your faith in me then?"

"How are you going to do that?" You swallow hard as his hands skim down to palm and squeeze your ass, pushing your lower half to him. "It isn't within his power," you tell him, breath hitching. "Only mine."

"You doubt your king, little flower?"

Namor's hand presses on your lower back, maneuvering you as he switches your positions so he's reclining back until he has you above his lap. You encircle your arms around him, eyes wide and watery.

He presses a kiss to your neck as his fingers leisurely stroke your pussy. "And you address me as Namor," he admonishes you, his voice rough and passionate. "Never do that again, unless you are begging for my mercy. After you dare to doubt me."

Your breath hitches and you nuzzle your damp cheek to his in apology. "Yes," you breathe out in agreement, gnawing on your bottom lip as he angles his finger, slipping it between the folds of your pussy. "My love. My K'uk'ulkan."

He groans and plants kisses down your neck, murmurs that it's okay even though you know it isn't. He brushes his fingers up your mound, applying pressure around your clit as he starts rubbing in tight, little circles to stimulate the little bud. You cling to him, grinding in tandem to the his slow, firm pace he's set.

You stop a few times as your body wracks with shivers, your breathing a mess, but Namor keeps rubbing you off as the heat of the bath and your arousal scorches you.

Finally, finally Namor pushes a finger inside your slippery walls. He groans and lets out puffs of air that cools your overheated skin as you clench around him.

You whimper, capturing your wobbling bottom lip in your teeth. Already so desperate and aching for his touch. Even under the cover of the cloudy water you feel completely exposed and adrift in pleasure, his ornaments budge and scrape against your buoyant body, the heat of the water enhancing the sensitivity of your skin.

Water soaks your scalp and he chuckles as your eyes flutter open, not even aware that you've closed them. You're not scared of giving your trust over to him, safe in his hands in his element, but you're surprised at how quickly you've lost yourself in his touch.

Namor's fingers clamp around your nape and he pulls you back up, keeps your throat bared to kiss and suck and nip at his leisure. His fingers don't stop moving, rubbing and circling around your clit, stroking your lips like his tongue tracing the seams of your mouth. Your hand on his shoulder tightens as you cover the one between your legs, pumping your hips frantically as you whine for more.

You curse him, back arching, the cold air sudden and biting at your breasts and hardening your nipples. His hot, wet mouth latches onto your chest and his arm tightens like a vice around your waist as you write and moan.

Your plush walls spasm with every unforgivingly rapid thrust of his fingers, the heel of his palm rolling against your clit. Your body twitches with every jolt of pleasure rippling out of you like air bubbles swiftly stealing your breath.

Namor sings his praises under his breath that you're too blissed out to bother translating. Your weightless and floating, tethered only to him and his thick fingers, the connection growing tighter as you're ready to snap.

Namor drags you down into the water as you come, his lips sealed to yours as you cry out and spasm in his arms.

He twists you around to face him, hitching your legs around him and you're not sure what's happening until you're on your back, staring at the flower padded logs hanging from the ceiling. Namor kisses you all over your face, murmuring "ocēlōxōchitl" as he drinks in the water droplets from your skin until you're laughing softly.

He huffs eagerly above you as he works removing his belt ornament and trunks. He smiles down at you with lust and affection, water sliding down his nose onto your face.

He pushes inside you, watches as your tender lips kiss the crown of his head. An icy chill settles over you making you tremble. Namor curves a hand under your back and bears more of his weight down in you, both groaning as your pussy flexes around his throbbing cock sinking into you. That's when a chill starts to really register on your skin and your body trembles. Until you're snug and he's buried to the hilt.

If the staff and customers of the bathhouse hadn't heard you before they surely do now, moaning as you shift underneath him. Namor swivels his hips, cock twitching, and you accommodate every rigid bump of him nudging against you. When you press your palm to your mouth he pushes it away just as soon, tangling his fingers between yours.

He takes his time. Rolls his hips to push deep inside you. He kisses you, mouth clinging to yours when he breaks apart. It's close to unbearable, another slow climb towards pleasure that keeps you teetering on the brink, so close but never quite enough to push you over. A steady rhythm your breathing can't seem to match.

Bodies slick with water and sweat, skin hot and cold, sticky from the steam and the cum sliding down your thighs. You dig your nails into his back and he snaps his hips with a guttural groan, the rough thrust pitching you upwards.

"Please, please..." you whimper, beads of tears forming in the corner of your eyes. "Namor, please."

Namor quickens his pace, burying his head into your shoulder as he fucks you like you're impervious to breaking.

"You can take it, can't you?" he tells you between his strained, heavy breathing and moans. "That's why you're mine."

You whimper, nodding, words escape you. Namor's cock stretches your tensing passage, he slows for a moment and moans low and deep. Your nails claw down his back and he hooks an arm underneath your thigh.

The friction rubs at you in a new way and you cry out. Yes. Right there. Namor drops his head to yours, his eyes ablaze and possessive, thrusts becoming sharp as your own relents to him with lewd, wet slaps.

All it takes is his rough thumb flicking at your clit and his face pressed to the soft flesh of your neck, his teeth grazing you. You press yourself to him and everything comes to a standstill, your body becoming rigid as an intense orgasm ripples through you. Your vision turns white as you succumb to the throbbing pulses of intense euphoria drowning you.

He writhes above you, hips stuttering, his mouth dropping open as exhales your name in a broken whisper. He moans and the sound sings down to your bones as he jerks his hips, spilling his warm cum in you.

You turn to trail kisses up his cheekbone, panting, you gently press your lips to his pointy ear and Namor makes a deep, rumbling noise.

The iciness of the earth melts from your skin and warmth settles in you. Your flower has bloomed. The white petals of the dying water lily has come back to life and in your line of vision, tickling your skin as it lifts and opens wide.

"There it is," Namor grunts, satisfied as he tenderly plucks the flower from behind your ear. Delicate but strong. A blazing yellow bud bleeding pink into the white petals. "See? Do you believe me now?" he says, rather smugly, beaming. "I told you I could do it, it's life has been prolonged."

You roll your eyes, laughing. "Hold on, I'm pretty sure I did that."

He pouts. "Not on your own, my love."

You hum, sated and exhausted. "That is true," you admit, smiling. When had you willed your powers over the small lily? When your emotions got out of control they could be strong enough to affect the earth and plant life around you without any conscious effort. "I see you are very persuasive."

"And together we can do anything," he says in a fierce whisper, serious now.

Your smile widens and you cradle his face in your hands. "Yes, my love, I believe you."

Break Me Down - Part 6

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: This chapter is a heavy one, but ultimately shifts her relationship with Ben…

Word Count: 6,700 Trigger Warnings: (18+ only.) Attempted sexual assault, violence, mentions of domestic violence, torture, and past trauma. Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff.   

Part 6: A Hot Meal

Frank informed you the next morning that Simone, the new chef, had to call in sick. Apparently she’d slipped a disk in her back after yesterday’s festivities. 

Poor thing. You wished her a safe recovery, and an STD panel. 

But that left you and a handful of hungry men gathered in the kitchen like stray cats.  

Soldier Boy’s crew was a mere few. Some were former military, all were gruff, grisly-looking guys.

Frank was their leader, stocky and stoic, and an ex-Marine from the Dominican Republic. Followed closely by Saul, who was a taller blonde from Idaho, and ex-Navy. 

Then there was Lorenzo, appropriately nicknamed “Loco,” who reminded you the most of Frenchie. Loco was Colombian, lean, and covered in tattoos, but generally the most laid back and always cracking jokes (dirty or otherwise). 

You’d learned that he’d been in the same unit as Frank. And he was the one who took the second shift on watching you in the beginning of your imprisonment. 

And finally, there was asshole Tony, the only true local. But you didn’t hold that against the rest of Colombia. 

He at least was still sleeping after an all-night job, according to Frank. 

You assumed Ben was still in bed as well, because he hadn’t yet graced you all with his presence. 

The rest of them were staring into either the fridge or the pantry, trying to work out breakfast. 

“I could whip up some eggs,” Loco said. 

“You mean those rubbery shits you made yesterday?” Saul quipped. Loco frowned, but shrugged in admission. 

“We’ve got cereal,” Frank pointed out. 

“Cinnamon Toast Crunch?” Loco asked hopefully. 

“Raisin Bran.”

“Maldito hijueputa. I can’t live like this.”

You watched them fumble around like they’d never seen the contents of a fridge before, shaking your head in disbelief. Were all men really this helpless? 

You sighed and stood up from your stool at the breakfast bar. 

“All right, guys. Step aside,” you said. “My powers are limited, but I can attempt an omelet of some kind.”

Frank discreetly let out a relieved breath, while Loco made fervent Catholic blessings to the Virgin Mary. Saul seemed to be reserving his judgment until he tasted said meal. 

You smiled and took out two cartons of eggs, some evaporated milk, onions, garlic, ham and cheese, and some fresh spinach you found in the vegetable drawer. Then you rooted through the pantry and found the seasonings you needed, like sea salt, pepper, and oregano.

Yvette taught you this recipe, and it was one you’d been successful with before. So it stood to reason that you could do it again. 

Within half an hour, you were serving sections of two massive omelets to each man (seriously, it might as well have been a quiche), with a generous portion for yourself. Though you still saved a large piece for Ben…and yes, even Tony. 

Loco took a huge bite and moaned. Saul frowned in disgust and shot a fist into his shoulder. 

“Shut the fuck up, man,” he reproached. 

“But it’s hella good,” Loco said, rubbing his shoulder. He offered you two thumbs up and a wide smile. “Gracias, corazón.” 

“You’re very welcome,” you said with a laugh, and fought hard not to blush in embarrassment. Frank gave you a rare, conspiring smile. 

Who would’ve thought a hot meal could make you friends among criminals?

“Even Saul’s got nothing to complain about,” Frank remarked, noting the other man’s silence in his thoughtful chewing. Until Loco teasingly prodded him in the side with a fork. 

Saul made a sound of irritation around a mouthful of food and fended him off with a warning look (and a threatening butterknife).  

Loco tsked. “You have to untighten your asshole, my friend. You will give yourself a hemorrhoid.”

“You are my hemorrhoid,” Saul snapped. 

You stifled a giggle. 

Frank wore a deadpan look, but amusement still glinted in his eyes.    

“He’s just mad because Loco put peanut butter in his gun last night,” Frank told you in a lowered voice. But Saul still heard it, because his frown deepened while Loco’s grin edged into a smirk. 

“You know how hard it is to unjam that shit out of the slide?” Saul said. “Even the safety’s clamming up now.” 

“Shit, I should’a put jam too!” Loco said. “PB&J in a barrel, no?”

Saul punched his shoulder again in the same spot as before. Loco made a pained sound, but took the abuse with a good-natured smirk.    

“Very mature,” you laughed quietly. 

“Fucking children,” Frank agreed, with a sip of his coffee. But something told you that he was fond of these assholes. 

And that’s how Ben found you all. 

He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, for a moment just watching his crew eating, joking, laughing—with you at the center of it all. 

He’d been standing here long enough without them noticing that he was actually getting annoyed, until Frank finally looked over and straightened a bit. 

“Sir,” he said. All eyes in the room went to Ben, who raised a brow and strolled in with a casual, lazy gait. He nodded at his men, who all greeted him back with respect. 

He noted you tightening up too, your expression turning more careful as you lowered your eyes and continued eating. 

There was something about it that annoyed him. But he ignored that for now, in favor of heading over to the pan on the stove. 

“Your plate is over here,” you mentioned, sliding over his breakfast. “Coffee’s still hot in the carafe.”

Ben flashed you a sly smile. “All right, sweetheart. Why don’t you get me a cup?”

He knew you’d frown, just like that, with annoyance glinting in your eyes. Try as you might, you couldn’t hide it all the time—your stubbornness. You were mouthy too, with an answer for fucking everything.

But when he took the proffered plate and tried the eggs, he raised his brows in pleasant surprise. 

“Okay. So you can cook,” he said. “Good to know.”

You raised a brow at that, but you handed him a mug of black coffee. He took a sip and made a face of disgust.

“Jesus, could at least put some sugar in there.” He passed it back to you. “Fix that for me, would ya?”

Your brow twitched again, but you took the mug wordlessly. Saul got up from his seat at the bar and washed his plate in the sink himself before he left, followed by Loco, who thanked you one more time before he followed Saul’s lead. 

You gave Ben his coffee while you started putting the leftovers away and soaking the pan in the sink. When Ben next took a sip, he coughed as his tongue was assaulted by sweetness. He shot you an irritated look.

“What the fuck is this?” he snapped. 

You looked over at him with widening eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. Too sweet?” 

Your face was all innocence, but he was starting to figure you out. He caught a gleam of satisfaction in your eyes. His lips twitched, not sure if they wanted to smirk in amusement or frown in annoyance at your audacity. 

Ben glanced over at Frank, who stood near you with an empty plate. Clearing his throat, Frank set his plate in the sink and also washed it himself.

Ben dumped his coffee there and gave Frank a look—one that said to fuck off. 

His subordinate actually hesitated, making Ben’s frown deepen. But the man eventually left you and Ben alone while you finished up the dishes and Ben ate his breakfast. He didn’t mind complimenting the chef. 

“You surprise me, sweetheart. Now, if you start cooking more often than you eat up the pantry, I may need to keep you around,” he remarked teasingly. And he dumped his plate into the sink while you were busy washing the large pans you’d used.

It was meant to be a joke. He’d said worse things to you before and you’d volleyed back playfully, or at worst case, brushed it off. So the way your head whipped towards him with a glare managed to take him by surprise. 

“Maybe if you put as much energy into feeding yourself as you do into fucking your way through South America, you wouldn’t be such a helpless asshole,” you said. 

It changed the air in the room, making it tense as Ben raised his brows at you. He straightened to his full height and approached where you stood at the kitchen sink. 

“Care to fucking rephrase that?” he asked.

Did this bitch really just call him helpless?

You had one hand on the counter, maybe to steady yourself. Your chin took on a defiant tilt as you stared up at him and crossed your arms. 

“At least your team has the decency to say thank you,” you snapped. “You can’t even be bothered. What are we, your fucking slaves? Should the whole fucking world bow to suck your wrinkly dick?”

Your vitriol somewhat put him on his heels. He stared at you, incredulous.

“I knew that doe-eyed Mary routine was a fucking show,” Ben growled. “Behold the salty cunt underneath. When yesterday, I know for a fact you were contemplating sucking on my cock like the fucking slut you are.”

Your expression became enraged. You aimed to slap him, with even your nails poised to scratch at his eyes, but he knew the attempt would hurt you far more than it’d hurt him. He grabbed your wrist and threw it away from him. 

You huffed, irate beyond belief, and tried to walk away from him before you said anything else you’d regret. 

But Ben’s hand closed on your arm again and whipped you around. You saw the anger in his eyes, the effort he was making to hold himself back. You both knew that with just a fraction of strength, he could crush you. He could end the game.

You were angry enough right now that you didn’t care. 

“Do it,” you challenged. “Bat me around until I act right. You supes call yourselves heroes, but I don’t see anything noble about you.” 

Instead of your arm, Ben gripped the counter next to you as his nostrils flared. His fingers bit into the tiles, cracking through them and making you flinch. 

“Go to your fucking room,” he ordered. “Before I take you up on that offer.”

Before he loses his shit, you interpreted. 

Your sister’s words again managed to cut through the red of your temper.

Protect yourself.

You hesitated, trying to slow your breath. Then, you lowered your eyes. And you scurried back to your room. 

You only released your tears when you were blessedly alone.  

Meanwhile, Ben was fucking fuming. He took it out on a potted plant, smashing it on the kitchen counter. He watched the fractals of clay spin off like bobble tops and the soil scatter across tile and in the sink. 

All the while, he refused to actually acknowledge how your words had affected him—other than infuriating him.

You were stubborn, with a smart goddamn mouth. You clearly hated him, and not just because you tried to help Butcher put him back to sleep. 

But he’d been spotting hints of attraction behind your blushes, whenever he teased you. He was mollified, slightly, with the knowledge that your body was interested, even if your mind was having a hard time being persuaded. 

Ben could work with that. 

But another part of him wondered…what the fuck was it about this girl? 

Why does it matter if she’s fucking into me or not? What the fuck do I care? He certainly wasn’t wanting for pussy. 

He should’ve gotten rid of you a long time ago. In fact, he should’ve shipped you back to Butcher, better yet, with a bullet through your skull so his band of morons would get the message…

But there was something about you. He’d known it from the moment he saw you in that club. When you broke dumbass Tony’s foot with that lethal goddamn heel, wearing black leather and a sexy gleam of confidence in your eyes as you walked away. 

To continue your hunt for Soldier Boy.

If Ben was honest with himself, (and he wasn’t), you had a fire he just didn’t want to dim. 

You were avoiding him. That was obvious. And maybe Ben was avoiding you too, a bit.

He whittled away the next couple of days with lines of coke, weed, and booze, among other things. Still, none of it managed to dull his mind enough to get a full night’s sleep. Because every time he closed his eyes, he dreamed of being in a metal coffin, unable to pry his eyelids open.

Most of it was flashes of memory mixed with nightmares. Of being frozen and defrosted, his head held underwater just to see how long he could go without breathing.

Being electrocuted on every surface of his skin to see which parts of him were more sensitive than others, less or more durable. What affected him more, bullets or acid, electricity or burning. 

Then the serums that lit his blood on fire, making him feel like his bones were liquifying from the inside out…

Ben would wake in his large bed, covered in sweat. And it took a hell of a lot to even make him dewy. 

The problem was, this was happening more often. Thanks to his abilities though, he was able to function on less sleep than most people anyway. 

At night, sometimes he walked through the dark and empty halls of this huge fucking mansion that felt empty as shit, even when he crossed one of his men. 

Sometimes, he wondered what it was all for—the long years of his life. Sometimes he wondered why he was still here, with no team, no family, no fame, and no real fucking life.

In the morning, after he cleared through the brain fog of post-drugging, Ben wandered downstairs and slurped down a mug of coffee. 

Simone was back, and she dutifully put together a frittata for him. Really, he was craving some plainer eggs and bacon, but this would do, he guessed.

After he finished eating, he wasn’t really sure what he wanted to do. The drugs were starting to bore him, as were the women, if he was honest. 

Ben ventured near the French doors leading to the backyard. He noticed you sitting outside in the garden, surrounded by little yellow flowers. Your mouth was moving, but he could barely hear you. 

Slowly he opened the door, so you wouldn’t hear him. Ben approached from behind, but didn’t go far. He just got close enough to hear you softly singing, letting the wind carry your voice away. But now he heard you perfectly. 

“If I didn’t care, more than words can say…if I didn’t care, would I feel this way?”

You had a good voice, he acknowledged. And just within the safety of his own mind, it reminded him of the way his mom used to hum along with the radio when she cooked. 

His mouth quirking, he returned inside and fished for the phone in his pocket. He scrolled through his contacts and found the number for his favorite escort service here in Colombia. 

Now that your anger had died down, you were feeling a bit guilty. You felt more than justified in raking Ben over the coals, and when you thought of how he’d snapped back at you, it still made your blood boil…

But somehow, your guilt remained. Maybe there’d been a better way to say those things. A gentler way that his massive ego could accept. 

Though you snorted as you walked through the halls that were now second-nature to you. It was late at night, but not too late that your brain could be calmed and cajoled into sleeping.

He doesn’t understand gentle, your mind reasoned. All that gets through his head is brute force. And sometimes, not even then. 

But he’d had every chance to lose his temper violently with you. While he’d certainly been an asshole, he hadn’t tried to break you. Just the kitchen counter. 

Curiouser and curiouser…

Without meaning to, your feet brought you close to his door. Your hand was poised to knock…but you hesitated.   

Then you heard the sounds coming from within, lusty feminine sighs and male grunting, and you grimaced. Memories of your previous experience in opening Ben’s door flit through your mind and made you blush. 

Nope, not this time. You made a sound of disgust and backed away from the door, then fled back down the hall. 

With a sigh of boredom, you supposed you could use a midnight snack. You’d just have to go it alone this time. 

Fine, you thought, suddenly petulant. And you would make something good too. Something that took some effort, and he wouldn’t get a single morsel! 

You went down to the kitchen and rifled through to find the ingredients you needed to make one of your mom’s old comforts: chocolate chip muffins. You didn’t have a Betty Crocker box mix, but you thought you remembered Yvette’s recipe to make them from scratch. 

You found a mixing bowl and threw in the powdered ingredients first—the flour, baking powder, sugar, salt. Then you added the vanilla extract, the eggs, vegetable oil, milk, and whipped them up into a batter. You dipped a finger in to taste it so far, and you smiled with a pleased hum.

“Whatever you’re making, it already smells good.”

Your smile fell as you looked up. Tony walked into the kitchen with his booted foot. 

You wanted to sigh. What the hell does this bitch want?

His long hair was tucked behind his ears, and he was dressed in tactical gear this time, complete with a belt, though curiously devoid of his gun.

The last time you’d seen him in this ensemble, he’d been kidnapping you. Maybe Soldier Boy sent him off on an “official” errand of some kind, like buying drugs off a cartel or something.

“Good evening,” Tony said with a nod. You nodded back at him, watching him as he approached the kitchen island. You made sure it remained between the two of you as you went to the fridge for some more milk. The batter was a bit too thick.

“What’re you making?” he asked.

“A roast chicken,” you sassed. He shot you a dry look and surveyed the ingredients across the counter. He reached for your open bag of chocolate chips and stole a few, scooping them into his mouth. 

Rude, but you didn’t comment. You knew you shouldn’t snipe too much with him. 

“Whatever it is, mind saving some for me this time?” he asked. “I heard you made breakfast for the guys the other day.”

“I did saved you some,” you replied. “Not my fault if the self-proclaimed King of Everything ate it all.”

In most ways, Ben was a bottomless pit. 

Tony started to curve around the kitchen island. You didn’t miss the move, and you stepped carefully in the other direction. 

“What? I just want to grab a beer,” he said, giving you a teasing smirk. “You afraid of me, mi vida?” 

You were really sick of men giving you unearned endearments. 

“Oh, yeah. Fucking petrified of the one-legged wonder,” you replied. Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. Tony’s sly façade fell into irritation. 

There it is, you thought.  

“You really are a bitch,” he said tersely. 

“Takes one to know one, bitch,” you rejoined. It wasn’t your wittiest comeback, to be sure, but it still seemed to infuriate him. You should’ve been trying to diffuse his temper, not goading him. You just didn’t really think he would try anything after what happened last time.

But you were wrong. 

Tony went after you, swifter than you thought possible with that big-ass boot. You muttered a curse and tried to evade him, but he grabbed you by your hair and yanked you back, making you shriek in both surprise and pain. 

You had no choice but to twist and aim a shot to his throat with your elbow. While he choked, you aimed another blow to the bridge of his nose, knocking his head back. 

You should’ve just fled the kitchen. Guaranteed, you could’ve outrun him. But his audacity made your temper snap. You followed up with a well-lined fist in the same region of his face, once, then twice, and he uttered a shout of pain as you both felt the crunch of his nose breaking. 

But then he managed to grab your arm. The two of you grappled, him slipping his foot out of the way when you tried to drive your heel into his boot. 

“Can’t get me twice, you fucking cunt,” he hissed, and pulled something from behind his back. Your eyes widened, thinking it was a gun. 

And it was a gun. Just not the kind you anticipated. 

A shock of electricity ran through your entire body as he tased you in the side, right below your ribs. You convulsed as he did it, unable to move until he relented. It made a few seconds feel like minutes of agony. 

You couldn’t even scream. Even when he stopped tasing you, you gasped in air and lost control of your legs. 

Tony hooked an arm around your waist and propped you up against the counter. With whatever strength you had, you raised your head, dazed and still in pain as you tried to grasp his shoulder.

He smirked down at you. With one hand, he ripped open your shirt so hard that the fabric burned against your already tingling skin. You gasped as you finally realized what he was about to do.

“Nnn…” you uttered, shoving weakly at his shoulder. 

“Shhh,” he said. His cold and lustful blue eyes roved over your heaving breasts still held in your bra, the expanse of your skin. He was able to get a grip of the button on your jeans before you summoned enough strength to fight back.

You shoved your hand against his face, trying to impale his eyes with your nails. But Tony ripped your hand away.

“Fucking bitch. Even now you won’t behave,” he muttered. 

He heaved you higher against the counter and pinned you there with a hand wrapped around your throat. He started squeezing, chocking precious air out of your lungs, but you kicked at him, bit your nails into his hand and clawed and fought as hard as you could when he tried prying your legs open with his knee. 

You tried crying out, but it was just whimpers making it through his tightening hand around your throat. He got frustrated enough to just break the button on your jeans, ripping the zipper down in the process. 

Then, two large hands closed on Tony’s arms.

Both of you looked up and found Ben’s steely green eyes. With a tightening of his jaw and a single upward shift of his grip, Tony’s arms broke. Bone struck through the skin, and the man screamed a horrific, blood curdling sound.

The hand wrapped around your neck released, letting you take in precious air. But that also meant you had nothing propping you up on your shaking legs.

You slumped to the floor against the kitchen island, then watched in horror as Ben grabbed the side of Tony’s face and bashed his head against the counter—over and over until his skull split open. 

Nostrils flaring, Ben took in long breaths as Tony’s mangled body fell to the floor in a bloody heap. 

Then he turned back to you. Your vision was a bit hazy as you tried to look up at him. Hot tears slipped down your cheeks as he slowly kneeled down to you, and helped you stand up. 

“Easy,” he murmured. “You’re all right.”

But you couldn’t stay on your feet. 

You made an uneasy sound, and Ben caught you when your legs couldn’t support you. You struggled to raise your head again, but you managed it.

Ben’s eyes roamed over your face and tried to discern what was happening. They held the question that he spoke out loud.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

What’s wrong. What a damn question, you thought.

Blinking, you tried your best to focus on his bearded face. 

“He tased me,” you told him through shallow breaths. 

Ben’s jaw clenched again, but all he did was nod. After a beat, he swept you up into his arms. You gasped, but he looked down at you in silent question. You nodded and relaxed against him, briefly closing your eyes. 

You wouldn’t know how that small gesture affected him as he carried you out of the kitchen. And up the stairs to the second floor, all the way to your room.

He was careful in laying you down on the bed. You were still crying, and now embarrassed for your own modesty as you grabbed a blanket and tried your best to cover yourself, your ruined shirt hanging from your shoulders and all. 

By the time you looked back over your shoulder, Ben was gone. 

However, a few minutes later there was a knock at your door. You sniffed.

“Who…” you tried to speak, despite the pain and coarseness of your voice. “Who is it?”

“Frank,” came the response. You didn’t know if you wanted him in here. 

But after a long moment, he spoke again.

“I’ve got some water for you,” he said through the door.

You licked your dry lips and tried to swallow, even though it hurt. Water, you could definitely use. 

With a sigh you said, “Come in.”

Frank entered with a bottle of water and a med kit. You eyed him warily as he dragged a chair over and sat across from you where you laid on your bed. 

“Can you sit up?” he asked. 

You weren’t entirely convinced that he was here to help you. But his brown eyes were calm and steady, and you didn’t detect a threat in them. 

“I was a paramedic before I enlisted,” he said. 

You blinked in surprise. You eventually obliged him by sitting up, but you still held the blanket around your body. Ben must’ve filled him in…and sent him to check on you. 

Tears welled up in your eyes again. Because every time you thought you had Soldier Boy figured out, the humanity of Ben surprised you. 

“Can I see where he tased you?” Frank asked. 

Though you hesitated, you opened your blanket enough for him to take a look at your bruised side. Sighing through his nose, Frank nodded. He wore medical gloves, and he raised his hands to prod at your neck.

You whimpered and leaned away from his touch. Frank slowly dropped his hands away from you. His eyes softened. 

“You asked about my family,” he said. You gave a belated nod, once you remembered that conversation from a few weeks ago. Had it only been a month since you’d gotten here?

It felt like a year. 

Frank held your gaze, and you remembered asking him. Got a family? Wife and kids?

He hadn’t answered you. You’d thought maybe there was a story there. Now you knew for sure that there was.

“I have a daughter,” said Frank. His tone held the weight of sincerity, just as his words held an underlying promise.

Finally, your tears fell. You nodded and allowed him to finish patching you up. 

He then left you alone, saying that he would bring you something to eat in a little while. But after the door clicked shut, you finally allowed yourself to let go.

You mostly spent the next day in your room. Frank came by to check on you, to offer you something to eat. You took what he gave you, but you only nibbled. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to enjoy eating.

You imagined it getting clogged in your throat, as a hand wrapped around it. First Antonio’s, then your father’s hand. 

You remembered when you were thirteen years old, and you finally snapped back at him when he tried to cut down your mom again with his drunken cursing.

You remembered the dryness of his hands, one of them closing around your neck and squeezing until you saw black spots encroaching on your vision.

And your mom intervened, threw herself onto him. You held your little sister in the closet. She was far too little to understand what was going on, but she knew it was bad.

You covered her eyes, and you watched through the slits as he beat your mom within an inch of her life.

You remembered fumbling with the landline, whispering into the receiver until police sirens circled through the windows and illuminated the dim house. 

You remembered until you had to shut your eyes against memories and hot tears. 

It was another day before your room felt like a suffocating cage once again. Night had fallen, according to the TV guide, approaching midnight. 

You had to gather your courage, but you got dressed into one of your new plain shirts and jeans (which Ben had bought you, you were reminded).

When your stomach growled, you frowned. You hadn’t been able to keep much down for the past couple of days. Sighing, you reached a hand for the doorknob.

Your fingers hesitated on the brass, but you remembered something Louisa told you the day she graduated from high school. 

You hugged her tight with the broadest grin and kissed her cheek. With tears in your eyes, you held up her hand, which held a diploma with honors. 

She had a chance to go to college—something you hadn’t had. But you were going to make sure she did.

“You’re a rockstar, Lou. I’m so damn proud of you,” you said. She laughed and wiped a tear from your cheek. 

“It’s only because of you,” she said. “You’re a rock, sis. Even when you’re not.”

Your sister was a smart little shit, wise beyond her years. And that had stuck with you ever since. 

You’re a rock. Even when you’re not.

Even when that insidious voice inside whispered things. That you were weak, not strong enough, not smart enough. A burden on your family, on your friends. A disappointment. A bitch with an attitude and not much else. 

But you sucked in a shaking breath and frowned at yourself, your brows knitting together. 

No, you thought stubbornly. 

And you opened the door. 

With cautious steps you made your way downstairs. You forced yourself to keep walking, your heart rate climbing, until you reached the kitchen. 

You didn’t know what you expected, but Ben standing there and staring into the fridge was not it.

It was the first time you’d seen him dressed down, in sweatpants, a soft-looking gray shirt, and some old man loafer slippers. You couldn’t help a smile at the sight. 

Maybe he sensed a presence behind him, because he perked up and glanced over his shoulder. Finding you standing there with a small smile, if a bit awkwardly, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. 

“Hey,” you replied with a nod, and you braved entering the kitchen. It was spotlessly clean, almost as if nothing had happened in this room.

Except for the large section missing from the kitchen counter, revealing the cement underneath. Likely it had been too damaged to be repaired and needed to just be torn out and replaced. 

Your gaze roamed across the counter to the spot where you’d been assaulted. You couldn’t help focusing on it, so long that your vision started to glaze over. 

Until you realized that Ben was slowly approach you. He had a beer in hand, which he must’ve grabbed from the fridge. You sucked in a breath and looked up at him. 

“You’re up and about pretty late,” he remarked. 

“So are you,” you returned with an attempt at a smile. “I got hungry.”

Ben huffed in amusement. “Figures…though not gonna lie, was feeling peckish myself.”

He gestured at the fridge dismissively. “There’s not much.”

He could’ve woken up Simone, you were ready to point out. But maybe, just maybe, something you said had gotten to him. Maybe he’d wanted to just figure it out for himself, but didn’t know where to start. 

“Let me take a look,” you said instead. You went first to the pantry and took a brief inventory. “You feeling sweet or savory?”

“Savory,” he replied after a moment. He went over to the breakfast bar and sat down with his beer while you continued to rifle through.

“Hmm, how about spaghetti?” you suggested. 

Ben raised a brow. “It’s almost midnight.” 

You shot him a small grin. “So? You’re hungry, right?”

You could tell he wasn’t totally into the idea, but he shrugged. 

“All right.” 

You hummed as you gathered all the ingredients you needed. Ben watched you lay them out across from him on the counter: onions, tomato sauce, various seasonings, and more. He eyed the entire head of garlic you were getting ready to peel.

“Jesus, you tryin’ to kill a vampire or something?” he quipped. You gave him a wry look.

“Have you ever made spaghetti before?” you asked. This was as basic as it came, but the way he was looking at the vegetables told you the entire concept of peeling, cutting, and throwing them together into a pan was foreign to him. 

“Probably,” he said with a shrug. 

Meaning never, you interpreted. Ben really just had no idea how to cook, you realized. You didn’t understand how a century-old man was so lacking in everyday skills…

But maybe you did. The files neatly stored in your brain reminded you that he’d grown up a rich kid. Very rich. Then after he became Soldier Boy, he’d all too soon reached the pinnacle of fame. He’d made so much money in four decades that he’d probably never needed to do a menial task in his life.  

Maybe you could get him to try. 

However, you hadn’t realized it until now, but even after a full day, your body hadn’t fully recuperated from what you’d gone through. Maybe it was the latent stress, but you already felt tired, your body heavy.  

With a growing idea in your mind, you finished peeling and crushing the garlic and grabbed two onions. You held up one of them for his view. 

“Would you mind helping me?” you asked. 

Ben sat back in his seat, crossing his arms. 

“Do I look like Betty fucking Crocker to you?”

“Do you have to be so rude?” you clipped back. His lips twitched in amusement, until you sighed, and took a break from standing up straight to lean against the counter. Your side was starting to twinge from where you’d been tased.

“What’s the matter now?” he asked. His brows knit together, and you could almost swear you saw concern in his eyes. 

But you pressed your lips together. It really pained you to admit it, but…

“Still a bit shaky,” you said, lowering your eyes. “I…honestly don’t know if I can finish this.” 

For a moment, Ben just stared at you. 

He frowned, then made a sound of annoyance. 

“Christ,” he muttered, and finished off his beer before he stood. He took his time coming around the island to meet you. 

“Fine,” he deadpanned. “What is it you want?”

A smile grew across your face, bright and grateful. You handed him an onion. 

“Peel and chop this, please.”

You made room for him at the cutting board and gestured for him to move in there. Ben considered the onion in his hand and took the knife from you. And after a beat of hesitation, he cut the whole thing in half. 

You made a halting sound, lightly touching his wrist. “I’d peel that first if I were you.”

“I know what the fuck I’m doing,” he retorted, but you read the defensiveness in his eyes. 

Hiding an amused smile, you relented and let him do it the way he wanted. But you did notice that he started peeling off the first layer of skin before he started cutting again.

Meanwhile, you found a sauce pan in the cupboard and a pot for boiling the pasta. And the two of you fell into a strange, companionable silence while cooking together.

Until you noticed him glancing at your neck. You knew there were bruises there, still purplish, but healing. It reminded you to gather your courage for something else.

“Thank you,” you said, with difficulty. “For…for saving me.”

Ben’s gaze met yours, but all he did was nod. You’d expected him to be his usual cocky self about it. 

“Why did you do it?” you asked. He paused in his truly horrendous cutting; irregular pieces of onion were all over the cutting board, but he was still going for the second one.

Then he huffed. “Would you rather I hadn’t?”

“Be serious,” you said, before you could censure yourself. He raised a brow at you. 

“You know what?” he said. “Think what you want about me, but I’m not a fucking animal.”

His frown deepened, like he was offended at you just for asking. 

Well, fair enough.

So you let it go as the two of you cooked together. 

But as Ben was peeling the stubborn hide off the vegetable, it slipped out of his frustrated hands and rolled away. Thankfully it stopped just shy of falling off the counter. 

You couldn’t help a small giggle at his expense. He had the strength of twenty men or whatever, but he couldn’t chop an onion to save his life. 

Ben shot you a wryly amused look. “Oh, you better not be fucking laughing at me.”

That just made you laugh in earnest, even though you covered your mouth with your hand. His grin deepened at the sound, despite the embarrassment making his face and neck warm up. 

He grabbed the hateful head of veg and looked anywhere but you as he got ready to try again. There was no way he was letting you, or this fucking onion, make a fool out of him. 

But your soft hand soon covered over his. You offered him a genuine smile, your eyes gleaming.

“Want me to show you a trick I learned?” you asked. 

He hesitated, but he eventually moved over and let you in on the action. You took up the knife, held down the onion, and cut the ends off first. Then you were able to more easily peel off the rest of the outer layer. 

“You can do this part any way you want, really. But I like to cut it down the middle first, then chop up one half at a time like this,” you explained.

And you felt Ben move in closer behind you to watch your methodical work. 

The heat from his proximity actually made you start to blush like a damn school girl. You tried to stamp it down, but heat flared into your cheeks when his hand covered yours and took back the knife.

“All right, all right, I got it. Move over,” he said. You huffed, but you grinned and let him continue…

By the way his eyes later lit up when he tasted the meal, you knew he really did like your cooking. Now, you didn’t want to feed his outdated views on gender roles…but you could admit, seeing him enjoy something so simple as your grandma’s spaghetti recipe was gratifying. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d shared a decent moment with Ben. But it was the first time that it hadn’t felt like an act. You didn’t know what to do with that—or the conflicted feeling making your heart ache. 

And you certainly didn’t want to find anything about him endearing. 

AN: So first of all, sorry for all the angst and TWs in this one. But here lies the end of Tony's fuck ass. ✌🏽 And maybe she's starting to understand (and trust) Ben a bit more...

Next time: Two weeks later, Ben is getting under her skin in the worst (best) way. (AKA: the moment we've all been waiting for...)

You should’ve just pushed him away already…but his nearness was mucking up your good sense. 

The truth was, you weren’t afraid of him. Not anymore. And maybe you didn’t hate him.

Maybe…

“Well, what’s it gonna be?” he asked you.

Your lips parted, halting on a reply.

Keep Reading: PART 7

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day 7: monkey d. luffy [eating out]

࿓ synopsis • why not using his devil fruit ability while eating you out?

―❦ nsfw, opla!luffy, f!reader, pet names, swearing, licking, biting, kissing, fingering, oral > f receiving, inappropriate usage of abilities/power, strength using, hair pulling, praising, ‘is all! • 0.9k • & concluding the first week of kinktober 2023 with our cute captain luffy! the week was soo fun & hope you liked it too. so, once again, enjoy & see you soon in the next week! [kinktober m.]

“mmhh – y/n – shiiii – pussy’s so goo – mmhh,” luffy says, his full attention on your pussy that his tongue is inside – licking it, kissing it, and eating it as if it’s the most delicious meal he has ever had in his entire life, and you swear it really is because he’s eating you so passionately that you’re losing your mind thanks to it.

“delicious,” he adds as if he hears your mind – maybe he does through the way you’re moaning his name over and over again, tongue curling only to leave the beautiful voice you have to announce he’s making you go crazy.

leaving your wet clit, since you have cum already, for a moment, putting his head on your naked thigh, pulling the skirt higher, exposing you completely. you look into his eyes, chest raising up and down rapidly, making your visible breasts through the dress take luffy’s attention before saying as he looks up at your face with wide sparkling eyes, “the most delicious pussy – ohh – how I want to reach until my tongue’s tip reach at the end of it!” he chuckles, fingers playing with folds, then, picking the wetness of your cum with his long fingers only to put it into his opening mouth – showing off you how he licks his fingers from tip to end, “mmmhhh –“ closing eyes for a certain time.

opening his eyes again, he chuckles at the sight in front of him – his pretty girl becomes breathless, nipples get hardened, the lip is bit, heat rushing to the face; the meaning of beauty for him.

then, an idea hits his mind like a ring while he kisses your inner thighs, fingers entering in and out, taking out the last bit of your cum. “yes! of course,” he speaks to himself more than you, but he turns to you when you catch him taking the tip of his tongue with his fingers, face has the confusion that makes luffy laugh, “stay still princess, the captain has a great idea!”

“about wha – oohhh – lu – luffy!” you moan his name louder when he goes back to what he was doing a moment ago, differently now, he’s more daring, more hungry, and looks like the idea that is in his mind drives him crazy because he holds your thighs, opening your legs wider, looking up to your face and winking at you when he realizes how you’re trying to understand what he’s doing – why he’s like that! and then, it hits you –

“ooohhh my – luff –!” you even can’t finish your sentence when his tongue gets into your pussy, slowly yet effectively getting longer inside your fucking pussy! “are you out of – agghhh – your – shiii – luffy!”

he chuckles – intense sensation coming out of your pussy to your entire body rising up with the radiations his chuckle sents; a hand finds his hair, pulling them, pushing his head closer to you – an instinct that screams as the opposite version of what you’re saying, “’is too much – luffy, ‘is too much!”

without realizing any of it, you begin to cry as his hot tongue twists inside you, a feeling you have never tasted before sending both of you into oblivion – you find yourselves wanting more and more each passing time, and you don’t care that your legs cage his head between your thighs by closing around his shoulders, or how luffy’s grip on your swifts from your thighs to under your ass, picking you up, pulling you to his tongue further by the ass while using his pure strength.

 you no longer have the ability to think straight – only breathing and moaning his name, it goes out of your wide open tongue as a melody – as a pray into luffy’s ears, making him moan in sync with you, doubling the feeling of being fucked by his tongue up until you begin to lose your consciousness.

his tongue hit the end of your walls, the place even you never reached on your own, and he’s not done yet.

the realization becomes knowledge when he adds his fingers along with his tongue, eyes opening and looking into yours, your dried tears refresh with new ones the moment his fingers begin to grow longer in length – he smirks, taking off his fingers back, and shoving them into you harshly – you throw your head back, “AAGGHHH – fuuuck! luffy, luffy, luffy –“

eyes go white as they roll back, hands grip his hair harder, legs shake within the rest of your body, and then you cum into his tongue – dripping into it and to the ground from there.

he sucks the flesh, drinking all the juice your body has made with such delight, you watch it with blurred vision even though you’re one step away from passing out because of how his tongue made you so weak.

“yes, princess?” he mocks, licking his lips, eyes sparkling, a smirk on his cute yet attractive face full of the glow of your cum and juice – worth it, definitely worth it. “you will not blame me for eating my favorite taste, will you?”

you shake your head, eyes closing, a hand finds his shoulder, pulling himself to you, “you’re crazy luffy.”

picking your exhausted body up, walking to the bed he will fuck you into now after you get a bit of rest, he chuckles, “for your pretty pussy, babe? always.”

with the newfound kink of using his devil fruit’s ability on you while fucking you, luffy is sure fucks you so good in that bed too.

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear *cuties*