BREEDING KINK MIGUEL🔊🔊🔊

I feel like with his breeding kink (and def size kink), he’ll leave you inflated with his cum after two rounds, then he’ll keep going saying how pretty you’ll look round with his kid. (Even if they aren’t really trying for a kid)

oh i know miguels size kink is absolutely insane

nsfw under the cut, requests open

I Feel Like With His Breeding Kink (and Def Size Kink), He’ll Leave You Inflated With His Cum After

Miguel O'hara whos got you bent in all sorts of positions, rutting into you with no end in sight. Your head was a buzz, legs shaking, mouth blabbering whatever incoherent thoughts came to your mind. He had you fucked stupid.

Watching the way his cum spilled out that pretty pussy, his cock easily sliding in and out of your wet folds. His cock bruising your cervix, the way it perfectly bends to brush against your gspot.

Miguel O'hara who keeps burying himself in you no matter how much he spills into you, the feeling of your tight cunt milking him dry sending him to a frenzy. Your choked moans falling from those pretty and plump lips. His eyes wandering to how your breasts bounced with each thrust, your skin flushed against his back. How tiny you felt in his grasp, the way he so easily pinned you to his chest, gripping your hips.

"Good girl, taking my cock so good for me, gonna breed you full.."

His voice was low and husky, panting against your ear. The thought of you round with his child had him in a whirlwind. Miguels hips only moved on instinct, his tip red from fucking like rabbits. He just couldnt get enough of you. Miguel just wanted to see you bred well and full of him, wanting to watch you so round with his child.

Tags

miguel ohara nsfw fic rec WE AINT STOPPING🤞🏼 HE TOTALLY HAS A BREEDING KINK AND I NEED HIM TO FILL ME UP OVER AND OVER AGAIN NEED HIM TO KEEP ME BRED AND FULL

jawbreaker

these moments, pt. 2

[read pt. 1 here]

pairing: adrian chase x reader (gn pronouns, gn sex descriptions)

rating: e+ (canon-typical violence and gore, explicit sexual content)

word count: 4,365

one-sentence synopsis: the next day doesn't quite go according to plan, but that doesn't mean that you and adrian don't end up getting what you want from it.

author's note: okay i fucked up making this a drabble. i hope everyone forgives me for only posting this today because it's like 4k+ of adrian slaughtering aliens and then fucking you into a desk like a maniac so i think it's worth it. anyways i hope everyone else likes this too!!!! enjoy!!!!!!

read on ao3!

These Moments W Adrian Has Me In A Literal Headlock It’s So Good. If Ur Ever Open To Posting A Part

“Duck!” Vigilante shouts, and you drop to the ground automatically, hands over the back of your head.

Only a second later, there’s a short, sharp whistle flying over your head. An explosion rocks the ground in front of you, and you don’t waste any time leaping back up to your feet, hauling yourself back into a sprint.

Vigilante catches up at your side, keeping a fast pace with you as you run. He turns around, trusting you to navigate a path through the trees as he takes aim at one of your pursuers and fires. You hear a choked-off scream behind you and a thud as a body falls, and you don’t break pace, taking Adrian’s arm to jerk him out of the way of tripping backwards over a root.

A gunshot rings out, and a bullet whizzes past the both of you. Adrian laughs, whirling to flip off whoever made the shot with one hand, taking aim with the other.

"You missed, motherfucker!" he calls out gleefully. He fires twice, then leaps and pushes himself into a twisting side flip so he lands facing forwards, sprinting along at your side again.

Adrian whoops, holding his hand up for a high-five, and you smack your gloved palm to his.

"Fuck yeah!" he shouts. He transfers his gun to his left hand, reaches out with his right so the two of you can thread your fingers together between you. You keep navigating forward, your vision tinted dark by the visor in your helmet.

You’d had every intention of cornering Adrian alone when you woke up this morning and making good on your promise to finish what he’d started last night, but you hadn’t had a very gentle wake-up call. Instead of waking up to swap shifts, you’d both awoken to Chris hurtling into the camp, shouting that they’d been seen and everybody needed to move now. You and Adrian had grabbed what you could, yanking on clothes and masks and holstering weapons before sprinting off into the woods with everybody else.

Now, you feel— admittedly relatively well-rested, since the sun’s up and you actually got a bit of decent sleep. Your adrenaline’s pumping, and you’re not entirely sure what’s going on, but you know you’re almost to the van, and nobody’s hurt, so you’re counting this as a win so far.

At your side, Adrian tilts his head just slightly. You look towards him for a fleeting second, and he’s releasing your hand.

“Keep going,” he says, “I’m following. I’ll be watching you.”

You do as he says. He keeps you in his peripheral vision, starting to jog backward again so he can keep his eyes on the trees behind you. There’s a bang, and he’s pinpointing the noise in the same moment you feel the whizz of vibrating air as a bullet flies over your shoulder, just barely missing your throat.

You yelp, and Adrian snarls, calling, “Who the fuck shot that?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, taking aim and firing his own weapon once, twice, th— unloading his gun, actually, and then holstering it and pulling out another one.

“Hey!” Adrian sprints up beside you, demanding to know, “Did that fucking hit you? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m okay,” you promise him. He slows slightly, just enough that he can balance reaching out to touch your masked face with his gloved hand. You may have several layers of tough fabric between you, but you swear his touch still burns there. You can feel the heat of his eyes through the visors, as strong as his touch; you can see and feel him without seeing and feeling him.

“Okay, good,” Adrian says. He draws away so he can pull a knife into the hand your face was just in. “Keep it that way.”

“Over here!” Chris calls, and you change direction, hauling Adrian by the elbow to pivot him along with you. You come skidding into the clearing just as John brings the van screeching up.

“Get in!” John calls from inside. Emilia hauls the door open, turning to help Leota up into the back of the van. She grabs your hand next, yanking you up. Adrian comes rocketing in beside you, jumping off the ground to send himself crashing through the van without her help.

From outside, something rocks the van, and you turn to see people— who are definitely no longer strictly people, but morphing into huge reptilian beasts you’ve never seen outside of a movie theater before today— converging on Chris, the last of you into the van.

Nobody else has noticed yet, and you act on instinct, running and jumping back out onto the ground. Behind you, Emilia shouts your name.

“What the fuck?” you hear Adrian say. You ignore his voice, running to meet Chris with your gun drawn just as one of the mutating creatures pins him to the ground. You cock your gun, take aim, and fire, splattering blood and gore across your face and Chris’.

Behind you, there are pounding footsteps. You’re sure you know exactly which one of them was stupid enough to leave the van; you don’t need to look back to know it’s Adrian.

You offer Chris a hand to help him to his feet just as another creature comes launching down out of the trees. You draw your gun, but then, you hear a vicious snarl behind you— or, two vicious snarls: a man and a machine, and you almost would laugh, if you weren’t halfway through trying to save your own life, and the rest of the team’s. You drop to the ground, grabbing Chris and yanking him down with you, already knowing where this is going.

Adrian comes flying over the both of you a second after you fall flat to the ground, his chainsaw growling louder than the shrieks of the reptilian creatures. The machine howls as Adrian pushes it through the alien’s body, splitting the creature in half with a gory spray.

Even over the machine, you hear Adrian laugh, saying, “That’s what you get, motherfucker!” He turns around, finding you climbing to your feet. He holds the chainsaw up, blood soaked into both him and it, dripping off to the ground. “I fucking did it! Did you fucking see that? Oh, fuck, that was so fucking cool—”

You point above his head as another creature starts coming. You see the person the creature used to be before it starts mutating, and it looks like that lookalike Adrian had been suspicious of yesterday, the one who looked like Adam Driver and Jason Schwartzman had a baby, which is— kind of poetic, in its own way.

Adrian turns immediately when you point, trusting you, as always, to guide him. He shreds the creature with the buzzing saw as it tries to come down on him, splitting it from the skull down. Laughing, he leaps past it to tear through the trees, seeking out the creatures with a vicious delight.

“Jesus Christ,” Chris says.

“Yeah,” you agree, smiling inside your mask. “He’s something else, isn’t he?”

There’s an incredulous silence from Chris for a moment before he says, “You two belong together,” and it sounds like an accusation or a joke, but you can’t help but feel like it’s a compliment. Your grin widens.

“You should tell him that,” you say. “It’d mean a lot coming from you. Good references, you know.” You offer him your hand again, and he takes it. There was a time not so long ago he would’ve brushed you off and stood on his own; you can’t help but take this as growth, both for him as a person and for your friendship.

Chris claps you on the back when you start heading for the van, the both of you sprinting again, the urgency of the situation not lost on you. You’re sure that’s all the thanks you’ll get for saving him, which is okay with you; growth comes in pieces.

Emilia and Chris are just offering you hands up into the van when Adrian comes sprinting back into the clearing. His chainsaw is gone, and he’s running at top speed, shouting, “Go, go, go! Go! It’s Godzilla, go—”

Behind him, sure as fucking shit, the creatures have started joining together to form one huge fucked-up sort of reptile creature. One of the creatures that hasn’t yet become part of the mass leaps at Adrian, and you scream, but he’s already twisting against it. He jumps up, swinging himself around onto the thing’s back with an arm around its throat. He snaps its neck, tucks and rolls over its body as it falls.

The next creature that grabs him sees a knife slid up into the soft underside of its jaw before Adrian’s lopping its head off, and the next— and last— that snatches at his ankles with its teeth gets the last of his violent rage.

Adrian twists around, hauling himself up so he’s wrapped around the creature from the front, knocking it flat on its back. He pulls back, then starts beating the shit out of the lizard monster, raining blows on it until it's an unrecognizable mass of blood and flesh, dead on the ground. When it’s stopped moving— long after it’s stopped moving— Adrian picks himself up off the ground and chases after the van, leaping into it just as John revs the engine and starts driving back through the trees.

Chris and Emilia are shouting back and forth at each other, arguing about what they should do about this thing, but you just watch Adrian as he gets to his feet in the back of the van. He reaches up to tug his mask off of his face, sucking in a deep breath when he does.

Adrian turns to evaluate his options among the weapons set in the mount along the inside wall of the van. He spends only a moment there before plucking one of the compact rocket launchers from the selection. He only pauses to slip his glasses on before he situates himself in the center of the van. Humming to himself, he gets to one knee on the floor, unfolds the machine in quick snaps, loads it, and peeks into the sight.

He’s still humming to himself as he aims and fires directly into the huge monster’s mouth. You watch him as he grins, eyes fixed on the beast; it’s only then that you turn to see it, too, as it suddenly bursts into an explosion of scales and flaming chunks of lizard insides and a shower of blood that patters on the top of the roof like rain.

In the aftermath, Adrian laughs, exclaiming, “Oh, shit, I think this is the coolest day of my fucking life! Did you see that shit? Holy shit!”

He runs a hand back through his hair, leaving blood streaked through it. Eyes wild, he whirls, seeking you out where you’re holding yourself upright by the driver’s seat.

Adrian stumbles over to you, the van jostling under him as he tries to walk. The van doors slam shut behind him, Chris reaching to haul them closed, and the inside of the van is at least quieter now, even if your blood is still rushing in your ringing ears.

You look up, heart pounding, as Adrian reaches up and tears your mask off, too. You inhale deeply, getting your lungs full of fresh air, seeing Adrian unfiltered.

“Hey,” Adrian says, then drops down, gathering you close to him. He cups your jaw in his gloved hands before realizing he still has his gloves on, curses, “Fuck, hold on, let me just—” and yanks them off, getting his bare hands on your bare skin, heedless of the blood he’s smearing, leftover from his gloves.

He’s a fucking maniac. You just watched him tear through all those people— and monsters— and that fucking giant— thing, whatever that was— with glee. This is the coolest day of his life, he’s just told you. Mowing down people with a chainsaw, blowing up an alien mutant, massacring hordes like he’s a dark fucking Superman or something.

You couldn’t be more in love with him. You couldn’t be more turned on by him. He’s making you feel insane. You think you might be unhinged, but at least, in that case, you both are, together.

“Hey,” you reply, heat gathering low in your belly, an electric charge that sparks up your spine to explode in your chest.

You tilt your head up, lifting your chin, and even Adrian gets the hint on that one. Heedless of the rattling van, holding himself up with one hand braced against the roof above him, Adrian reaches up with his other hand to cup your jaw in his hand. His thumb sweeps along your cheek, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before he smiles. He smiles, like he didn’t just kill all those things, like he didn’t just take all those lives, and you can’t help smiling back.

Adrian drops his head so he can brush his nose against yours, just for a moment. It’s like all the anticipation from yesterday is coiling inside you again. The intensity of not only that, but of the amount of the time you’d even been waiting before— It’s been so long that you’ve wanted Adrian, and he’s been just out of reach, drawing closer and closer but never near enough for you to just— grab.

Finally, he’s here, right within your reach, and you reach up to thread your arms around his neck, trusting him to keep the both of you upright even as the van bumps out onto the road. You don’t care about your audience, or the gore, or any of it. You just care that you finally have him, that he’s holding you like you’re something so precious after you just watched these hands annihilate entire lives.

You part your lips without thinking, eyes flickering from his eyes down to his mouth, waiting for him to draw you together. He exhales shakily, then finally, finally, finally drops down to kiss you.

It’s everything, everything you ever wanted from him, everything you’ve ever needed from him. He tilts his head just slightly, loosens his jaw so he can part your lips further and lick into your mouth immediately. Only a moment later, he withdraws, and kisses you bruisingly hard. A flare of heat rockets down through you, and you kiss back as hard as you can, letting him consume you. He bites at your lower lip, he glides along your tongue, he presses closer and harder into you, the two of you gasping for breath but unwilling to part.

After so long not doing this, you never want to stop doing this. The only reason you do stop is Chris saying, “Okay, Jesus, just— Stop fucking humping each other, this is disgusting.”

“You’re covered in guts,” Leota agrees.

“They’re licking each other,” Chris argues, like that’s the bigger issue.

You draw away, not quite paying enough attention to them to laugh. You do smile, though, eyes flicking up to meet Adrian’s again. His pupils are blown dark, leaving only a ring of bright green around their edges as he looks you over.

“Where are we?” Adrian asks.

“We’re, like, two minutes from headquarters,” John tells him.

“Pull over,” Adrian says. Another flare of heat explodes in you as he keeps his eyes fixed on you. He drops his head down, close to the shell of your ear, promises, “I can’t wait to fucking just— Touch you, I want— I want to fuck you— I’ll fuck you against a tree if I have to—”

“He said two minutes,” you reply breathlessly, even as the image of Adrian forcibly stopping a van so he can fuck you against a tree because he can’t wait two minutes after waiting literal months knocks your heart into an even faster breakneck pace than it’d been in before.

“Fuck,” Adrian groans out. He slams his fist against the roof of the car, then glares at John through the rearview mirror. Pointing at him through the reflection, he says, “Two minutes.”

“Jesus Christ, okay, I’m driving,” John snaps back at him.

“That was so fucking cool,” you tell Adrian. He looks back down at you, all delight again, written across the flushed strokes of his face.

“Wasn’t that just—” Adrian is briefly speechless, trying to figure out what he wants to say, and ends up making a noise instead, a wordless, excited shriek of a noise before he’s diving back in to kiss you again. Against your lips, he starts speaking again, says, “I’m feeling so fucking good, like, my blood’s fucking pumping, I really blew that thing up— Hey, what the fuck was that?” Adrian asks, twisting away to ask Emilia. “Do you know what the fuck I just killed?”

“Nothing good,” she answers, and Adrian fist-pumps in the air before twisting back for another biting kiss.

John screeches into the parking lot at your little innocuous office-building headquarters, where you and the 11th Street Kids are used to hiding in plain sight. When Chris kicks open the back of the van, Adrian throws you over his shoulder. You inhale in a sharp gasp, startled. His arm wraps around your legs, his hand holding your hip as he hops out to the parking lot.

Adrian shoves open the front door of the office, striding past the conference table to take you into the mostly-empty back office. He kicks the door shut behind him with a hard slam, sending it rattling in its frame. He brings you right to the desk, using his free arm to sweep everything on it onto the ground so he can throw you down on top of it, flat on your back.

In the next second, Adrian’s wrestling out of his uniform, tearing the clasps on his chest armor apart to send them peeling to the ground. He kicks it all aside, climbing up and over you onto the solid wood desk, stripped down to his boxers, skin slick with sweat. He glides up over you, finding the zipper on your own tight uniform, drawing it down in a sharp tug that bares your skin in a heated rush.

“Did you like that?” Adrian asks, pushing your uniform back off your shoulders. He tears your clothes down off of you, your hot skin meeting the cool desk in a flash that leaves prickles all over your flesh. “Wasn’t that awesome? What’d you—” His mouth finds your throat, teeth and wet heat that draw back a split second later. “What’d you think?”

“I think you’re amazing,” you tell him breathlessly. He shoves you further up the desk, sets himself between your legs, spreading your thighs apart. He licks over you, the flat of his tongue just— tasting you, for a moment— and your head knocks back into the desk, your back arching up. “Oh, fuck— I think you’re so amazing, you’re incredible, Adrian, I’m—”

Your voice breaks off with a sharp cry, and your hand flies up to cover your own mouth and muffle the noise. Adrian reaches up blindly, tugging sharply at your elbow to free you.

“Let me hear you,” he orders you. His hands come to your thighs again, spreading you apart, drawing your leg up over his shoulder to hook there.

When you push up onto one elbow to look down at him, you can see him already looking at you— looking down at you, spreading your legs further apart so he can reach between you and spread you apart. His face is flushed, cheeks red, up to the tips of his ears; he tugs his glasses off and tosses them aside before he drops back in again. He tilts your hips for you so he can dip in again, getting a better angle to lick inside of you. His other hand comes up to work you at your core, threading up above his head to get his fingers on your properly.

Your hips buck up of their own accord, and Adrian shoves you back down. His nose brushes along the inside of your thigh, and you make a strangled noise that rips up out of your chest, falling back again. You slam your bare palm down flat on the desk.

“Fuck, Adrian,” you curse as he keeps his mouth busy on you, jaw working, eating you like he’s trying to devour you. You can feel rocketing heat gathering stronger and stronger, coiling tighter and tighter at your core. You’re near tears, practically crying from the edge, from the near-overstimulation, wanting so badly to have him forever, to never have this end, to have this end now.

You’re throbbing, and you reach down, grasping blindly at him, fisting a hand in his hair. Adrian lets you guide him up, just slightly, before he twists to bite at the inside of your thigh. You cry out, face twisting sideways into the desk, leaving a smear of sweat and tears.

Adrian turns to lick into you one last time, tongue deep inside, keeping you spread wet and open, before he draws back to stand again. It’s only for a breath of a second before he kicks out of his boxers and slides up your body again, the hard, hot line of his cock gliding wet up your thigh, pressing hard into your belly when he drops down to kiss you.

“Oh, fuck, you’re the fucking— best person I know,” Adrian tells you, and you huff a laugh, smiling as you throw your arm over your face. “No, hey, c’mon, hey—” He reaches up, lifts your arm, tugging it up so he can see your face again. He cups your jaw, kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth, your lips. “Oh, fuck, thank you. Thank you for letting me do this, I want—” He bites your lower lip again, his kiss bruisingly hard. “I want you so fucking bad, can I—”

“Yeah,” you tell him, “Please, just—”

He seals his mouth with yours again, dripping sweat, smearing streaks of dried pink blood across your slick skin. He guides the head of his cock to your loose hole, wet where he’s worked you open until you fell apart around his tongue.

You grip the strong cut of his jaw now as he licks into your mouth like he’d like inside you before, and you grind up into him, desperate for friction where you want it most.

When Adrian pushes in, he groans your name, biting it off into your mouth before he drops to bury his face in your throat. His jaw keeps working, mouth open against your skin as he thrusts into you in a deep, hard push, his hips driving to meet yours.

He doesn’t hesitate, lifting up so he can take your hips in his hands and start fucking you in earnest. He bows over you, pushing you as far back as he can get you to go, lifting your leg to hitch up again so he can change and deepen his angle in you. You swear he can feel him fucking up into your throat, devouring your body with his, hungry for every inch of you. You can hardly believe that twelve hours ago, you’d never kissed him before; you think you’ll never be able to stop kissing him again.

Adrian keeps repeating your name, saying, “Fuck, oh fuck, you feel so good, you feel so tight, you’re so hot, you’re so—” He bites into the meat of your shoulder, clings to you, doesn’t let you go. You dig your nails into him, clinging to him, and he impossibly speeds up. The desk drawers rattle under the force of him fucking you into the desktop, and you fall apart under him. “Oh, fuck, I can’t— I can’t—”

He drags you up for another biting, hot kiss, keeping his eyes open like a freak. You do the same thing, keeping that eye contact as you rocket closer and closer to your edge. Your blood is boiling, has been for fucking hours, and you’re finally, finally there, shooting over the edge.

“Adrian, fuck—” punches up out of your throat. You’re overwhelmed with the heat that overflows through you, your mind whiting out.

Adrian’s teeth find your throat again when his hips fuck deep into you and still, his shoulders shaking, your name muffled by your own flesh as it pours out of his mouth into your skin. After a few moments, he shifts, thrusting again to fuck you through the rattlign aftershocks, riding each wave of his orgasm through your body.

When he finally stops, he drops to press into you like a heavy human blanket, burying his face in the space behind your ear, kissing along to your jaw. Every kiss is wet, sloppy, open-mouthed, dragging into the next.

“Sorry,” Adrian apologizes. “I made a mess.”

You laugh breathlessly, reaching up to thread your hands through the sweat-slick hair at the back of his head. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind a little bit of a mess.”

Adrian lifts his head to look you over, then grins. “You look like you got got.” His fingertips trail over your throat, down your shoulder. His touch dips into the bruises and bites he’s left behind all over you. “Fuck, that’s so hot. Hey, if you don’t mind waiting, like, ten minutes, I think I could probably fuck you again—”

“Adrian,” you tell him, “We are a fucking mess, this is— not the time, we should—”

Adrian drops to drag his tongue flat over one of the deeper bite marks in your shoulder, sending a spark rattling down your spine, spreading like a haze through your insides. You exhale sharply, grabbing at his hip.

“What’s up?” Adrian asks, smug, delighted with himself.

“Just— Shut up and get back up here,” you say, and Adrian drags up to kiss you again, slick and lazy, still smiling.

"You don't tell me what to do," he says. He's unable to stop grinning. "I tell you what to do," but he still draws up closer and kisses you again.

-

adrian chase taglist:

@violetrainbow412-blog @bigassbisaster @amysuemc @sunflowerfive @papitas-con-sal @saturnngal @neptuneswritingwork @jewishdelis @myguiltypleasures21 @pinkygunslingy @violinchick @r3tr0sp3ct @chaseadrian @breathing-in-waves @rishlurh @x-milf-hunter-x @goblynnrockz @theowritesstuff @jaysfav @themartiansdaughter @dallasvakarian @missscarlettangel @pieriinova @samantha24015 @hillaryroadheadcllinton @ohmybubbletea @buckys-estrella

Tags

holy shit vigilante adrian chase HE’S JUST SO nsfw fic rec how desperate he was to fuck the reader??? had me losing my fucking mind

443 notes View Post

buckys-lover

2 years ago

thinking about how matt eats pussy to show gratitude. he’s just so overwhelmed with how much he loves you when you do those little things to care for him and show him your love, that he resorts to doing the thing that he knows makes you feel good.

bring him lunch at work with the intention to not leave until he’s actually eaten because sometimes he gets too preoccupied and forgets to take care of himself? you’re getting bent over his desk and he’s spearing your pretty hole open with his tongue before you can say anything other than your initial “hey matty.”

fussing over him and some minor injuries he came back with after patrol? you’re getting pushed back into the couch, folded nearly in half, and he’s lapping at your twitching clit until you’ve come so many times that you become a wet, boneless mess under his hold.

wake up early in the morning as he’s getting dressed, even though you don’t have to be up for hours just so you can send him off with “have a good day at work, honey. don’t get into too much trouble. love you”? you’re getting yanked down to the edge of the bed and watching as your boyfriend kneels down and throws your legs over his shoulders to bury his tongue into your fluttering cunt.

Tags

frfr matt murdock You are so real for this he does nsfw fic rec and i’m 100% here for it bc this is so true and he loves it so much eating pussy is his love language

618 notes View Post

buckys-lover

3 years ago

𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this scenario would not leave my mind- also shockingly this is over 1.5k!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: frank castle x reader

𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤/𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 & 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝! 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭/𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬!

𝟏𝟖+ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+, language, cleaning wounds, unprotected sex, fingering, passionate sex, light breeding kink, light oral (f), unedited sorry for any missed typos!

"What the hell happened to you!" The blood-stained and bruised man stands in your doorway.

You quickly pull him inside, shutting and locking the door behind you. Frank limps towards the bar stools in the kitchen. The first aid kit is still laid out on the counter from last night's patch-up.

A faint groan sneaks past his lips as Frank sits down, finally being able to take a full breath.

"Nothing for you to worry about; you just need a few band-aids." Frank moves his hand away from his waist, revealing the gash dripping with blood.

Quickly you gather your dish towels and all the paper towels you can. They were not ideal, but the hospital wasn't an option since you had to be discreet. You remove your sweatshirt, not wanting to dirty it or the sleeves to get in the way.

Laying the full-sized towels on the floor underneath to catch the dripping blood, you hand him the dish towels. Frank begins to hold the cloth against the gash. You prep the area by washing your hands and grabbing the gloves from your kit.

"Wanna tell me why you busted the stitches from yesterday?" You mutter, applying alcohol to the wound.

Frank curses underneath his breath before shrugging his shoulders.

"Maybe I wanted to see you again," You laugh sarcastically.

"That so?" Playing along, you clean around the wound with a large cotton swab.

"Yeah." Frank smiles as you look up at him before shaking your head.

There are times where you regret offering help to the limping man you saw walking home a few months ago. It landed you in risky situations, but you're thankful you did- or else you wouldn't have met him.

Dressing his wounds and cleaning off the blood is practice for when you're put on the trauma unit at the hospital- and you have a lot of practice.

"This isn't going to heal very pretty; it's gonna scare pretty bad." Concentrating, you mumble.

"It'll match the other ones." Frank winces as you begin to restitch the gash.

Frank watches at how intently you're working on the wound. He didn't mean to bust the stitches, but it wasn't his priority in the fight. He appreciates how patient you are with him, how much you care for him. It isn't very often he finds someone he can let his guard down with- or as much as he could let them.

"This one is done. Please try to let it heal before you get stabbed again?" Standing up, you reach for the washcloth and dunk it in the bowl of water.

Ringing out the access water, you press it to his forehead and cheek. Somehow you slipped between his legs. His hands fell to your waist like they were meant to be there. You don't say anything; you like how well they fit.

You could feel his eyes burning through you, watching your every move. Dragging it down to his lips and chin, you clean off the blood. Frank wants to lean forward but stops himself.

Looking down, your eyes catch each other. His mouth is fully cleaned, your eyes drop to his lips.

Frank pleaded with you in his head that you'd lean in-, but you didn't.

"I think it's better to clean the rest off in the bathroom." You clear your throat, pulling away from his body.

Frank swallows hard and nods.

Once in the bathroom, you start the shower. Frank walks in after you, stripped down to his briefs. His top half is caked in blood and dirt. Whatever he had come from, it wasn't good- and you didn't plan on asking about it.

Frank steps in with his briefs still on, knowing you'd need to help address the wounds on his back.

The room was silent, but you could cut the tension with a knife. The water hits his skin, and he winces once more. Soon the blood and dirt begin to disappear from his skin. The minor scratches and bruises start to show through. Nothing major, so you assume the blood he was wearing was someone else's.

Stepping inside the tub, you examine his back. When he turns around, your eyes meet once more. This time they don't leave/

The two of you give in to the tension, and the silent pleads.

His hands cup the sides of your face, and your fingers wrap around his wrists. Your lips meet each other, and you're pulled under the water.

You sneak your arms under his and around his neck, his arms loop under your legs- hoisting you up and pressing you against the shower wall. You're careful your legs don't hit the stitches.

Frank's palms slide up your shirt, lifting and removing it. Your bralette is soaked through, and you can see the outline of your pebbled nipples. Frank's lips drag from your jawline down your neck and onto your chest.

"Frank-" He pulls his lips off of you the moment his name leaves your lips.

"Are you sure about this?" You ask softly.

He nods. He had never been so sure about anything.

"I promise." He replies.

Nodding back, his lips found yours again.

Your front is resting just above his crotch, but you can feel his hard-on underneath you. An unexpected moan falls from Frank's lips once you start to grind against him. Frank holds you up from your thighs, carrying you out of the shower (not daring to break from your mouth to shut the water off).

Completely soaked, Frank drops you onto the bed. While he's taking off his briefs, you do other same and remove your shorts and underwear. He stares at you for a moment, taking in the sight of your bare lower half. The gaze breaks as he hears your bra drop off the side of the bed. His eyes travel to your breasts, groaning as he watches them move as you sit up.

Frank lays you back down as he lays on his side. His lips are attached to your neck as his rough palms travel down your body. They're taking mapping every inch of you, feeling everything they could. You whine as his thumb grazes the top of your cunt. The ache became louder, and you swear he could feel it.

"Please, Frank- I need you," The words came out more desperate than you wished them, but it was true.

The arousal had pooled and coated your folds and stuck to the inside of your thighs. The plea encouraged him to spread your thighs apart, your leg hooking over top of his. He moaned into your mouth as his fingers dipped inside your sopping folds.

"I haven't even done anything yet," He chuckles, and you gasp.

Two fingers enter inside you, and you jerk your hips upward. Frank's other arm is underneath your head, and his fingers are interlocked with yours. This type of intimacy is one that you haven't experienced before, being so close and connected everywhere you could. Frank's fingers are slow but steady, his thumb grazing your clit.

You roll your hips into his fingers, wanting more.

"Keep going, sweetheart." He mumbled against your lips.

There wasn't a point in trying to conceal your sounds, so you let the small soft whimpers and the tiny whines escape you. Frank became addicted to them, pushing you closer and closer, wanting you to get louder and louder.

Each curl of his fingers hit your g spot, teasing your orgasm. The pleasure grew more intense, and fog covered your brain.

Clenching around his fingers, Frank increased his speed. His thumb toying with your sensitive nerve.

"Frank, I- please, can I cum?" Sinking into submission, you ask through a whimper.

Frank chuckles and grants you permission.

Your hips buck and jerk against his hand as you cum around his fingers. Frank's in your ear, whispering all sorts of praises as your climb down from your high.

Holding his fingers still before he brings them to his lips- tasting your arousal. He hums at the taste, knowing he had to get it from the source.

Releasing your hand, he shuffles down so that he's eye to eye with your greedy cunt.

"M'senstive, please- Fuck!" Frank cleans up all the arousal, craving more of you.

He hovers over your body, that's still recovering, and places your legs on each side of him. He drags the tip of his cock up and down your folds, spending extra time on your clit.

"Fuck, baby-" Frank moans as he pushes himself inside you.

Your eyes flutter shut, your hips dig into the mattress, and your back arches. He fills your cunt, and your body warms. Frank leans down, kissing you once more, not breaking as he begins to thrust.

Each stroke is deep and slow, making sure you feel every inch of him.

Once you're more adjusted, he goes faster- rougher than the moments before. His lips are still against yours; every so often, they drag to your jaw. Frank cups the side of your face; his eyes meet yours before kissing you again.

He was kissing you like it was the first time he had ever done it, passionately and with so much desire.

Your nails claw at his back, but he winces as you create new wounds.

"S'close- fuck!" You mumble against his lips; you know he's close too- his cock twitches inside you.

"Cum for me, sweetheart- please," He whines into your mouth.

You pulsate around him, cumming hard. Frank curses under his breath; you feel his cum spill inside you. You grind slowly against him, wanting every last bit of his cum.

Frank thrusts one last time before slowly pulling out of you. The both of you are panting next to each other, barely able to form words.

You turn to your side, facing him. Frank does the same, but this time he pushes the fallen pieces of hair out of your face- studying your expression.

"I think you might have a few more cuts on your back," You mumble, feeling the heat spread to your cheeks.

"Eh, It'll match the rest of 'em." He smirks.

Tags

frank castle fucking feral nsfw fic rec FRANK CASTLE COULD DO WHATEVER HE WANTS TO ME😩☝🏼

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