Latest Posts by sad-girl-autumn-version - Page 6

Expensive Delights Series (Read at AO3) Fandom: American Gigolo (tv) Pairing: Julian Kaye x F!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: Explicit. Additional warnings listed on each part.

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Part 1: The Hotel

Part 2: The Apartment

Part 3: The Book Tour

Part 4: The Dragonfly

Cherished

Pairing: Pero Tovar x f!Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: You see Pero for who he really is under his gruff exterior.

Warnings: canon time period, protective!pero, mention of past violence (not by pero), unsafe horse riding position so suspend belief lol, unprotected p in v, pull out method, fluff, soft!pero, the picture does not depict reader, no y/n, barely edited because it was more for fun/to try something new than anything else

a/n: a failed drabble because i have too much to say. my first attempt at Pero but it's really just a fun little nothing.

*dividers by @firefly-graphics

Tracks of dried tears paint your cheeks as you sit far back from the circle of men situated around the fire. The cold air of the darkened desert brings chills through the thin fabric of your dress.  In an attempt to stay warm, you pull your arms tighter around your body and try to ignore the rumbles of your stomach. 

The blonde haired one – William – looks your way again, “Miss, you need to sit by the fire or at least accept our furs, otherwise you will never survive the night.”

“I want to go home.”

Through a mouth full of bread, “You do not have a home any longer.”

William harshly nudges his fellow mercenary, the one with the long scar down his face, “Pero,” he hisses at the man in disapproval.

Pero glares at his friend, “¿Qué? She does not.”

Anger and sadness consume you, “Then take me back to what is left of it!”

Hours earlier, it had been Pero and William, along with their group, who came to the rescue of your tiny village.  The billowing smoke luring them in to discover a gang of bandits had destroyed every home and building while murdering any person they came across.  Their victims included your father and younger brother. 

Pero was the one who had heard your tormented screams, riding his horse towards the heart wrenching sound to find a burly, bearded man grabbing you by the hair to subdue you, no question as to the man’s intention with you. 

The grip on your hair loosened when Pero rode by and swiped his sword clean through the bandit’s neck.  Turning his horse, he rode back to you and extended his hand, “Vamos! Now!”

As you started to stutter out about your slain family, Pero again urgently, and now annoyed, repeated his demand.  A quick look around showed the carnage of the place you once called home, bandits now fighting with these newly arrived men.  Without thinking any further, you grabbed Pero’s hand and he practically lifted you on strength alone. As you swung your leg over the saddle behind him, he shouted at you over his shoulder to hold on tight.

Shivering, you hug yourself tighter, eyes glancing around the campsite before returning to keep vigilance on the group of men before you.  Just because they seemingly saved you, does not mean they are not looking to abuse you in some way. 

The man in their group with the green tunic laughs, “I will take her back if that is what she wants.”

The words would have excited you had it not come from this man, because you have seen how he has been eyeing you since Pero helped you off the horse once you all made it to the campsite. 

Pero eyes the man with disdain, “You go anywhere near her and you will die of blood loss, amigo.” 

Hearing the threat surprises you.  Maybe Pero’s taken notice, too…and maybe Pero’s the one who wants to claim you. 

The man laughs at the Spainard, “Just because you brought her here does not mean she is yours.”

Pero’s glare darkens, “She is no one’s.”

“Every woman belongs to a man.  She now needs a new one to claim her,” he taunts Pero, “I volunteer.”

As William goes to scold the man, Pero stands and kicks at the flames to successfully hit the man with burning hot tinders, “Try it and die!”

As the men argue, you take that time to grab a nearby fur.  Wrapping it around yourself, you use the cover of darkness to quietly sneak away from your spot a few feet away.  As soon as you are out of sight, you begin to run as fast as possible which is hindered by the damn sand. 

You run until you can no longer breathe easy.  Slowing to a walk, you realize now how much of a terrible idea this probably was.  The stars provide minimal light and the fur does nothing to keep your legs and hands warm. 

It shouldn’t have surprised you when you heard movement far back behind you.  The unmistakable sound of a sword thumping against a strong thigh as the sound of galloping is dampened by the sands.

“Just let her go, William,” Pero grunts just as he and William reach you on their horses.  Ignoring his Spanish friend, William brings his horse to cut in front of your path, “Miss, it really is not wise to be running off on your own.  Let alone in the darkness of the night.” 

Pulling the stolen fur closer around your shoulders, you look up between him and Pero, “I do not care! My family has been murdered! I cannot leave them lying on the ground like they were.  They deserve a proper burial,” you begin to whimper at the memory of their slain bodies surrounded by blood.

William sighs, his heart broken for you, but at the same time knowing the decision is a reckless one, “I am so deeply sorry for your loss, but going back is an unfeasible option.”

Just as you open your mouth to protest more, Pero interjects, “I will take her.”

The words have both you and William in shock as you look to the gruff man. 

“Pero,” William warns at his decision.

Pero’s eyes are on yours and even in the dim light of the moon, you think you see compassion in them. He gives a small nod, before looking to his blonde friend, “We leave now and we have a good chance of making it back by morning.  Maybe this will settle her down,” he adds in typical Pero attitude. 

The roll of your eyes at those last words cannot be helped.  You almost believed him to be changing to a kinder soul until he finished his thoughts.

Pero hums in annoyance, “Or perhaps I take back my furs you have stolen there, and allow you to carry on alone?”

He had spotted your ungrateful expression it seems. 

“You touch me and I will slit your throat with your own sword,” you warn him before he takes you any further.

A humorless laugh from the scarred man, “I will hand you the sword myself.  But fear not, I have no want to touch you, señorita.  Not every man falls upon your feet.” The satisfied smirk on his face is in response to the clear offense you take at him insinuating your think so highly of yourself. 

With a groan, he pushes down on his saddle and slides backwards making room in front of him.  He then reaches an open hand down to you, “We leave now.”

“Why am I not to be behind you?”

Pero sighs heavily with simmering aggravation, “You just threatened to kill me with my own weaponry.  Better I have you where I can keep an eye on you.”

Irritated, you take his hand with a huff, and just as earlier, he’s practically lifting you on his own strength alone until your legs are spread over the saddle, your back to his chest. 

His arms circle you as he reaches around you to hold the reins.  Bidding goodbye for now to William, Pero begins the ninety-minute journey back to your village. 

No words are spoken, nor do you want there to be.  The imagery of the slaughter of your village replays over and over in your mind. Emotions are welling in your chest with every mile you’re closer. 

By the time you make it back, the sun has still not risen.  Pero cautiously looks around for any lingering enemies as his horse trots back into the destroyed village.  He remembers exactly where he found you and brings you back to your home.  Before the horse has even fully stopped, you’re bringing your leg over to slide off the saddle even as Pero attempts to grab you to help your descent.  Falling to your knees, you abandon the furs, and quickly rise to run towards the remnants of what was once your home.  Half the roof has been burned, collapsing inside the abode you grew up in.  Two of the walls have collapsed along with it and the bodies of your family are amongst the rubble – killed first before the home was destroyed around them.

Pero stands on the stirrup to swing his leg around, dismounting while watching you, “Querida, be careful!” he shouts a warning from behind.  The structure is easily no longer as stable as it once stood.  With a hand on his sword’s handle, he approaches your home, ducking under a fallen beam as you had to enter inside the portion still upright.  There you are, back on your knees, sobbing over the dead bodies of your father and brother. 

He would be no man if he did not admit that his heart hurts for your loss.  No one deserves to see their family brutally killed like that.  Leaving you to grieve, he walks the main beaten path of the village, checking each home for the items he seeks.  The shovel he finds laying on the ground near a burned body and the cloths hanging up as if put to dry – most likely by the woman lying dead nearby.   

You aren’t exactly aware of how much time has passed since you got there, but by the time your tears have finally dried there’s a peek of sunlight at the horizon.  Pero’s footsteps as he leans down to enter has you gasp in momentary fear, forgetting briefly just how you got there.

Tucked under his arm is a bundle of cloths.  Pero shifts his elbow in gesture and with the gentlest tone you’ve heard him use so far since the short time you’ve known him, he utters, “To wrap them in.”

Nodding, you wipe at the final drying tears on your face.  He’s over to you in two strides and takes a gentle knee as he begins to unfurl the sheets when your hand on his shoulder pauses him briefly.  With a sniffle that cracks his heart, you lean down to press a light kiss to his cheek, onto the part of his scar that sits below his eye.

“Thank you,” you whisper with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder.

With emotions swirling in his chest, all he can do is give you a short nod in return.  Together, you and Pero wrap their bodies, as gently and caringly as you would hope he would.  Upon finishing, you remind him, “I need to dig their – their graves, now,” the words getting stuck in your throat at the finality of them.

“It’s already done,” he shares.  

You look to him where he stares back at you, a silent understanding of your unspoken gratitude for his labor. 

It is Pero who carries each one outside for you, guiding them each down into their own resting place right outside.  When you grab the shovel before him, he steps back and allows you this as you cover each one back up with the disturbed dirt.  He gives you a few minutes once you’re finished before he has to speak up, “Querida, we need to leave now. Or – or do you want to stay here alone?” he questions.  No one said you absolutely had to return with him.  They had taken you out of precaution for your safety – it was by no means a kidnapping. 

Looking at the two mounds of fresh dirt, tears fill your eyes, but you look at Pero anyway, “What would you do with a woman like me amongst your group?”

 His eyes soften, “Not what you are fearing.  We can teach you to fight like us, survival skills.  Make you useful or to eventually have you head off on your own.”

That man they have though, “The one in the green tunic.  I fear I am not safe around him.  I heard how he spoke of me back at the fire.”

An anger passes through Pero’s eyes, but you know it is not towards you, “I will speak to William about him.  Until then, I promise you that he and I will protect you.”

“You do not like me, why would you do that?”

“I never said I did not like you,” he quietly protests, “Though it seems you do not like me.”

“That is not true,” you look at him, “You are gruff and rude, but it does not stop me from appreciating your soft moments.”

There’s a slight twitch to the corner of his mouth at your blunt honesty and roundabout way of saying that you don’t mind him without actually saying that you “like” him.  He steps closer, reaching out to close a hand around the shovel’s handle, “So what is your choice then, querida?”

The steady motion of the horse lulls you to sleep on your return journey back with Pero.  Seated in front of him once again, the furs stolen from him wrapped around your shoulders, you lean heavily against him.  Your head has turned, pressed against his neck and jaw.  The small, tickling breaths from your parted lips sending chills throughout his body at having you so intimately close. 

It’s the splashes of cold water that awaken you.  Rain drops pelt your linen dress and the parts of your skin that are uncovered as Pero’s Spanish is said in annoyance as he looks up to the darkened sky. 

“I need you to trust me.  Spin around and hook your legs and arms around me,” he instructs somewhat hurriedly. 

“Why?” you ask in surprise.

“Because we will freeze to death once the rain picks up unless I get us to shelter.  I cannot speed up the horse with the way you are sitting.  Too risky of you falling off.”

The rain does become heavier and Pero’s waiting for you to fight him some more when to his surprise you do as he says.  He pulls the horse to a brief stop to help steady you with an arm around your waist as you swing your legs up and over a few times until your thighs are draped over his and your arms circle his neck. 

There’s a warm buzz settling between you as your faces are as close as they’ve ever been, eyes seeking out the other’s.  Droplets cascade down the skin of you both before Pero is shaken from his daze by a crack of thunder. 

“You hold on tight,” he instructs before he cracks the reins and leads the horse into a fast gallop in a new direction.  As told, you hug your body to him, your cheek pressed to his as he grips the reins, guiding the horse into a fast gallop. 

The clicks of his tongue and the occasional, “Aye!” towards the animal causes a warmth to spread along your body.  The shivers follow when a few times, Pero’s hand presses to your back briefly as he praises you, “You’re doing well, hermosa. Just like that.”

The harsh movements of riding have your clothed cunt lightly bouncing against his chainmail.  While you manage to bite your lip for most of the ride, there’s been a few embarrassed moments where a moan has slipped out right next to Pero’s ear. 

He makes no indication he heard you, but he has.  The chainmail hiding the half-hard member he’s sporting from the sinful sounds you’ve treated him with. 

Pero takes you to a cave he’s used before for shelter.  He trots the horse right in and his hand spreads against your lower back as the rain is finally cut off.  Both of you are drenched and he can feel you shivering against his palm. 

“Querida, we need to stay here until the weather clears.  And I need to get you warm before you fall ill.” 

With the motion of the horse still, you now realize your teeth are chattering a bit.  With a nod, you don’t utter a word when he slowly slides his hands along your skirt-covered thighs, guiding you back enough so you can swing your leg over.  As you sit side-saddle, he has you grip his hand this time before you slip off.  His grip helps you glide down instead of falling to your knees as before.  As he descends right after you, he ties the reins to a branch sticking inside the cave and then walks over to a pile of logs that seems to have been re-used over and over.  In no time, he has started a fire.   He guides you over to stand near it before opening the saddle bags and pulling out two blankets that were tucked inside. 

The surprising gentleman, Pero spreads one down on the ground before telling you to sit.  He then lays the other over your shoulders.  You thank him, and scooch closer to the flames as you watch him rid himself of the heavy chainmail, leaving him in his thin tunic that is slightly damp.  He sits on the opposite side of the fire, holding his large hands out to warm up. 

“Pero,” you call sweetly to him.  The brown of his eyes sparkle in the firelight as he looks to you across the flames. 

Opening your arm and the blanket, you silently invite him to join you.  There’s no reason he should allow you to hog it.

“You need it more,” he nods. 

“You’ve given me both.  As noble as it is, it is unnecessary for me not to share.”

Looking at you once more, confirming in your expression that you’re comfortable with the idea, he slowly stands and makes his way over to you.  Taking a seat right next to you, he takes hold of his end of the blanket and wraps it around himself.

“Gracias, hermosa.”

“I hope the names you call me are not entirely dreadful,” you tease as you glance at him.

It makes the closest thing to a smile appear on his face, “I promise they are nowhere near.”

Despite the fire and the blankets, he can see and feel you still shivering. 

A clear of his throat, “Your dress is soaked through - you will never warm with it on.  I can turn my back and allow you to disrobe so it may dry more quickly. You may have the blanket to yourself to stay covered.”

He’s right.  And when you turn your head to look at him, he keeps a point to stare straight ahead at the dancing flames. 

“Very well,” you agree.  He glances at you and gives a short nod before standing and walking a few feet away where he turns around as promised. 

It’s only a couple minutes before he hears you announce, “You can turn back around now.”

As he does so, his breath catches in his throat.  You stand before him completely nude.  The flames paint your soft skin in colors of strength, dancing along your body like a dream.

“Querida –“ he breathes, eyes unable to stop from roaming from your full breasts to the patch of hair between your beautiful thighs. 

You take slow steps towards him, “Pero, I trust you to warm me up.  Unless, you believe the blanket is the best way.”

As you come to stand right in front of him, his eyes land on yours.  You watch as his throat moves with a swallow.  His arms stay glued to his sides and you begin to worry you’ve taken a terrible leap of faith.

“Do I not attract you?” you take a step back, lips beginning to frown.

He licks his lips before the grit of his voice speaks up, “I fear I may not be able to stop once you allow me to start.  Are you certain you want me?”

That beautiful mouth of yours turns into a sinful grin as you step back into him.  Your eyes never leave his as you reach for his hand and bring it up to cup your breast.  His eyes instantly darken with lust as you press it against the weight of your flesh.  His fingers close around it, squeezing the delicacy. 

The sudden gasp from your lips surprises you both. 

“Pero, take me,” you breathlessly urge. 

His hands hurriedly fit to your face as he steps into your body, lips landing on yours as he kisses you fiercely.  Gripping his hips, you press yourself to him.  The hard line of him presses against your cunt causing you to moan against his mouth.  Grabbing the hem of his tunic, you pull it up and he only breaks from your sweet lips to allow you to void him of it.  He trembles when your hands run from his torso to his chest before your arms surround his neck.  The perk of your nipples press against his firm chest and his tongue licks into your mouth before your tasting his in return.  Eager hands grab at your ass, squeezing hard before they’re flying up to run gently down the back of your head, “You truly thought you did not attract me?” he mumbles hastily into the heated kiss. His lips then drag from your mouth across your jaw.

A sharp inhale of arousal, “You told me you had no interest,” you grip the back of his head as he ruts his hips against you. 

He nips at your skin, “I was hoping to convince myself,” he admits.  He leaves a wet kiss where your shoulder meets your neck and then he makes your squeak in surprise when he lifts you into his arms.  He carries you over to the blanket, taking a knee before gently laying you down.  You welcome him as he hovers above you, nails dragging down his ribcage to the slim lines of his waist.  He slots his lips over yours, tasting you slower this time.  The tips of your fingers slip into his waistband and push the calfskin down until his cock springs free and his ass is uncovered. 

The kiss is halted when his lips instead part and hover over your own as you wrap your hand around him, pumping him as his groans of pleasure coast across your mouth. 

As soon as your hands are sliding back up his bare chest, his mouth crushes to yours. 

“May I fuck you, querida? Bury myself inside your beautiful body?”

Your already spread legs open wider and he feels your heels hook around his calves, “I want every inch of you inside me.  Fuck me with the same energy you’d use to protect me.  Prove to me that I belong with you.” 

He sweetly smooths a hand across your temple, “Then you’ll have every part of me, hermosa.” 

As he guides his cock to your soaking pussy, you gasp at just how thick of a head he has when he breeches your puffy lips.  Your whine in approval, hips lifting in a bid to get him inside faster.  Pero chuckles and soothes you with a kiss.  Once the tip of him is inside your slickness, he settles between your legs. 

“My sweet girl,” is all he whispers before he snaps his hips forward and sheathes himself entirely within your velvet walls.  Your body arches in intensity as your keep eye contact with him, a deep moan falling from your open mouth. 

“Oh, Pero,” you whine, clawing at his back as he pulls out and once again buries himself deep and fast inside of you. 

His lips leave soft kisses around your face, “You fit perfectly with me, querida, do you not agree?”  You quickly nod, “You have me stretched so full – so full, it feels incredible,” you moan, lips pressing to his.  One of his large palms glides from your waist down the line of your body until he’s holding your thigh to his hip.  He wraps his other hand under the back of your neck, kissing you deeply before his starts pounding into you. 

“Yes, Pero!,” you cry out, your wails echoing off the cavern walls.  You grasp his face and pull him into a wet, sloppy kiss before giving him quick encouraging nods as your high-pitched gasps urge him on.  Every punch of his cock sends an erotic moan spilling from your throat.  Somehow he fucks you even faster and you need to sink your nails into his broad back to hold on. 

He feels it then, the slow pulsating of your walls before they’re beginning to close tighter around him. 

“Oh! I’m so close – I’m – I’m – Pero, oh fuck, I’m coming!” you mewl just as your cunt hugs his cock tight.  Your body trembles below him, a scream of pleasure caught in your throat as your mouth forms a perfect O while your body seizes before trembling once more. 

“Ohhhh!” finally releases from your body.  Pero’s hips don’t stop until he’s gripping himself and pulling out.  With deep groans, his spend shoots from the reddened tip and covers your stomach up between your breasts.  The milky white substance rolling down your left hip and onto the blanket below. 

“Querida,” he breathes in exhaustion as he presses himself against you, his cum sliding between your torsos, as he kisses you.  His semi-soft length nestles against your mound while your fingers trail across the few minor scratches you’ve branded his back with. 

“Have I hurt you?” you ask with small worry, fingers running over the scratches to slide over the curve of his ass, tilting your hips up to catch your clit against the veins of his cock.  It’s pleasure for you both – your lips parting for a small moan as his jaw tightens with a muffled grunt.

He drags his lips along your chin, “Not in the slightest.  Only pleasure you have given me.”

“Then in return, may I keep your furs?” your nails drag up over his ass before moving to hook your arms around his neck. 

Pero’s brows scrunch in confusion and worry that you have only wanted him to gain something.  The glimpse of the smile breaking open on your face has him realizing how wrong he is – and how clever you think you are as you let out a small laugh, entirely too amused with yourself. 

The man above you may roll his eyes, but it’s paired with a lopsided grin as he can’t help but let out a quick breath of humor. 

Still softly laughing, you nip at his jaw to get his eyes back on you.  His eyes stay drawn to yours when you next lightly drag a fingertip down the line of his scar that leads down his cheek. 

Leaning on his forearm, he glides his calloused fingertips along your side, drifting down your thigh. 

Pero licks his lips, “Does it frighten you?”

The shake of your head starts before you speak, “Not at all.  In fact, I find it makes you even more handsome.”

The corner of his mouth curves up, “Ah, so you are a little out of your mind, yes?”

“Oh, so you are quite funny as well,” your reply sarcastic, before you break into a smile and a soft laugh escapes you. 

Pero smiles fondly before leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, “You are beautiful, querida,” a large palm sweeping tenderly over the crown of your head.

Twirling your fingertip around the ends of the hairs at the back of his head, you gaze up into his eyes, “Still being funny?”

The way he smiles at you stirs something in your chest, “I could not be any more serious.”

It’s at that moment, your stomach grumbles, widening your eyes at the embarrassment before you squeeze your eyes shut and press your hand to your face.

Pero laughs above you, his warm hand curling around your wrist and pulling it away, “You are also hungry,” he grins, “Let me feed you, my sweet girl,” he kisses your heated cheek.  Looking to him, “I’m sorry.  That was unexpected.”

The kiss he gives you is deeper than the last, followed by a tender one to the tip of your nose, “You are out of your mind for apologizing for needing food. I will take care of you.  But first, we should clean ourselves, no?” Looking between your bodies where his spend is coating your stomachs.

Pero looks towards the cave’s entrance, the rain still coming down hard, and back to you.  With a big smile, he pushes off his hands and you watch with surprise as he jogs his fully naked self right out into the pouring rain.  Leaning up on your elbows, you can’t help but laugh at his craziness. 

Pero swipes his hands over his hair, slicking it back as he shakes his head of the constant raindrops on his face.  You watch as he uses the rainwater to clean him of his semen, hands wiping it clear of his stomach. 

The squeal you let out at the cold water drenching your skin as his head snap up only to see you’ve joined him under the tears of mother nature.

“You are the one out of your mind!” you say loud enough for him to hear you over the roar of the rain. He also hears the excited laugh you give right after.

Pero steps in front of you, hands grasping your bare hips, “Yet here you are right here with me!” smiling at your ability to match him.

“I know,” you say a little softer, eyes blinking quickly from the droplets, but still staring into his own.  His hands lift quickly to fit to your face, pulling you into a heated kiss.

Gripping his muscular biceps, you return it with fervor before he’s pulling back, “Quickly, hermosa. If you get ill, I’ll never forgive myself,” and he begins to swipe your stomach clean of his seed. As soon as he’s done, he’s taking your hand and running off with you back inside.

He releases you only to quickly grab one of the blankets bringing it to you, swinging it around your shoulders and wrapping you up.  You watch as he turns around and walks over to the saddlebags, reaching in and pulling out a wrapped bundle of linen.  On his way back to you, he scoops his tunic off the ground, draping it over his shoulder. 

There’s a smirk sitting on your face and he questions the cause.

“Pero Tovar, you have a very attractive butt.”

He shakes his head as his cheeks pinken, “You need to eat, you’re becoming delirious,” but then he looks at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh yes, that must be it,” you tease in return with a wink.  Pero places the bundle down and then removes his tunic from his shoulder.  He hands it to you, as his other hand is held open.  Understanding, you hand him in the blanket and take his clothing, pulling it on before accepting the blanket back.  He then leans down to pick up his pants, pulling them on.

The two of you settle against the rock wall, with Pero behind you keeping you tucked between his spread legs.  His arms have found a home around your body as you share the contents of the linen bundle – a few pieces of bread and cured meat.

“Pero?” you turn your head towards him.

“Sí, yes, querida?” he kisses your shoulder where the blanket has slipped from.

Quietly, almost afraid to speak it into the universe, “Will we be safe here until the rain clears? Will anyone find us?” The implication clear that what happened to you yesterday has found a permanent home in your mind.

The strong arms around you pull tighter to your figure, “As long as I’m here, you are forever safe,” his accented voice promises between you.

Pero sees the clear emotion in your eyes as you whisper your thanks to him.  He kisses your forehead before thinking to ask, “You have not – you did not give yourself to me as simply a return for helping you?” his tone inflecting a mild worry that he has read this situation all wrong. 

“No,” you quick to reassure him, hand sliding along his jaw to cup his cheek, “You are handsome and brash,” your lips leaving a light kiss to his lips, “But you showed me the real kind of man you are with how you treated me and with how caring you were to help me honor my family.  I believe you to be a good man, Pero, and I like you because of it.”

All he does is stare into your eyes, a grin curving to the side of his mouth. 

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you at his expression, “Do you like me? Or do you only want me for what my body can give you?” the latter said with a light poke to his chest as you don’t truly believe it with this man.

One hand glides up your spine, following the line up along your neck until his thick fingers are buried into your hair, “I very much like you.  There is a draw to you, querida. You are nothing short of enchanting, stubbornness, and all,” his words grow softer the closer he leans into you.    

The hand at his cheek rests to his nape as you pull him in even closer, a light nudge of the tip of your nose against his, a soft smile at your lips, “I do not believe I have ever had a man call me enchanting and stubborn in the same breath.”

Pero lets his mouth brush tenderly against yours, “Than no man has seen you deeply enough.  You would not be you without both.  And you, my sweet girl, are easy to adore just as you are.”

Your mouth presses to his, kissing him fiercely while he cherishes your very being. Pero holds you tight against his chest, lips tasting you over and over as his heart beats rapidly in his chest.

A House in Nebraska

pairing: frank castle x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

warnings: gore, violence, minor character death, amy bendix (lol), language, angst!!, eventual smut

summary: He was afraid of you. Afraid that you had made up your mind and had enough of him, that this was the final straw. But the worst thing, he decided, was the possibility that this, that he, was enough for you—that you would pledge your loyalty to a man like him. To a life like this.

a/n: hey! I’ve been sitting on this idea for months and finally ready to work on it :) this will definitely be a two-parter(maybe more), but I’m selfishly enjoying this little AU loosely following season 2!!!!

next chapter

comments/reblogs/likes are so appreciated, I love to hear your thoughts <3

“So… how did you guys meet?” “Stay still.” The strong stench of rubbing alcohol burned your nostrils as you leaned over, her foot tapping mindlessly beneath her crossed legs. “You didn’t answer my question.” “Amy,” you interrupted, her blue eyes baring right back into yours. “If you want me to paint your nails, sit still.” She huffed at that. You were used to it by now, never taking her attitude personally because being sixteen was hard enough, so you paid no mind. It was almost reminiscent, a painful familiarity with the way she embodied your sister, but you chose to forget the feeling like your life depended on it. In a way, it did.

Her nail disappeared beneath a glossy black polish, the surrounding skin also falling victim to an unsteady hand. She let out a sigh and continued to count the number of stripes on her socks.

“We met in Nebraska.” “Nebraska?” She sounded disgusted, and the small room filled with laughter. “What the hell is in Nebraska?” “Absolutely nothing.”

Ghosts. Distant memories. Everything was in Nebraska.

It’s where he found you, hiding as some housekeeper in a shitty motel. You were both running from things neither of you cared to talk about while sober, so you didn’t, but he kept looking for reasons to come back.

He blamed it on the esteemed breakfast, a vending machine honeybun, but you saw through him like he was an apparition haunting your strained heartstrings.

Come with me, he asked. Where to? You didn’t really care.

You were in too deep by the time you made it to Michigan—you both were, and yet neither one of you would admit it. There was something sacred about the secrecy and inability to label what you both knew was love, or something like that; it was too precious, and you avoided any chance at jinxing it.

“But you two are together, though, right?” Amy was obsessed with knowing everything. You think it’s her way of pretending that everything was fine. Fine.

“No.” “Oh.” She straightened a bit, and you didn’t miss the way her brows furrowed. “That disappoint you?” “A little.” “Good,” you smirked. “You’re too nosey.” “I call it a healthy amount of curious.” Her back hunched again, and she watched the way your eyebrows scrunched over her fingers. “You guys are shit at hiding it, anyway.” You chuckled at that, manually manipulating her hand to inspect your work. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Oh come on,” she says matter-of-factly. “You guys fuck.” “Amy!” You could feel your eyes bulging from their sockets. “I knew it!” She clapped her hands before jumping from the mattress. “You don’t know anything.” “Oh come on,” she searched your face, expecting to find any confirmation to her assumptions, instead finding your lack of eye contact disappointing. “Not even once?” “No,” you lied. “Happy?” “Not really.”

The mattress failed to hide the sound of her disappointment as she threw her body onto the spare bed. You allowed yourself to find amusement in her attitude long enough to sift through a dirty duffel bag, keeping your mind occupied with something other than Frank’s absence.

Gaining Amy meant losing Frank. Hour by hour, piece by piece, chunk of flesh by chunk of flesh. The waiting never grew easier, but you adjusted, just like you always do, ending up in motels that smelled like damp polyester and cigarettes.

“I’m starving,” she groaned, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’ll get something soon.” Your stomach gurgled in agreement.

Static crackled throughout the room, momentarily stunning you, before being replaced by a weather report.

High of 89 today with an 80 percent chance of rain, folks! Grab an umbrella and stay dry!

You laughed to yourself at that—stay dry—like you ever left those shitty rooms.

It was bittersweet with Amy. You missed the sun. You missed the late night diner runs. You missed waking up to forehead kisses and soft touches. You missed the easiness of it all, pretending to be two normal people that had two normal lives, and now you were confined to a room that reeked of nail polish and gunpowder. A prisoner and caretaker.

“What do you want for dinner?” you asked, attempting to lighten the mood. “Huh?” “Dinner,” you stated. “I’ll go when—“ A knock at the door ended your conversation. “Amy,” you locked eyes with her, “get in the closet.” Your voice dropped to a whisper as you pointed the gun towards the door. “No, it’s fine!“ She practically leapt from the cheap mattress. “Closet. Now.” Your arm aches almost as much as your stomach as Amy reaches for the door handle. She was so far away, it seemed, and your legs felt cemented to the floor. “I ordered food,” she smiled, opening the door to reveal a woman holding a box. “See?”

It felt like you were staring at one of your polaroids; Amy looked pleased, beaming at you with a sense of accomplishment that she got dinner. That she could do things. That she didn’t need your help—Frank’s help. Her smile was radiant, and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for her.

“You can keep the change,” Amy offered the woman a handful of cash before turning to you with that same naivety.

Stupid, stupid girl.

You knew it was coming, and yet your stomach still dropped when her smile faded and her eyes bulged from their sockets. Amy’s lips moved frantically, but you were too focused on the way the woman’s gun left imprints against her temple.

Stupid, stupid girl.

The woman looked satisfied, puffing out her broad chest while Amy tried to talk her way out of it. “Kid,” you commanded her attention, ignoring the way you could hear Frank’s voice in the back of your head. She stared back at you, tears welling in her eyes, and you hoped to God that she would understand what you meant as you meticulously cocked your head towards the closet.

The stranger wasn’t an idiot, and she shuffled backwards, somehow digging the gun further into Amy’s head. “If you try anything funny—“

Point. Shoot. Kill.

Amy flinched as warm blood decorated her cheeks like a crimson blush.

You wish you could embrace her and muster out a lie—that it’s all over, that everything is okay now, that things can go back to normal, but you can’t, so you pull her into the room. “Closet, now.”

She listened, for once, ducking her head and hurrying to the small space Frank had designated as hers. A part of you selfishly wished she had fought back against your order. Maybe then things would feel normal, and you could pretend that the brain matter surrounding the door frame was some maximalist’s creative direction. Maybe then you could imagine that the body below you was just a rolled up carpet that was being discarded because it was too much of an eyesore for the motel regulars.

You pretended, ignoring the corpse’s vacant gaze as you patted its body, shoving any remaining bits of your humanity down as you pocketed a wallet and fully loaded gun.

Point. Shoot. Kill.

It was one of the first lessons you had learned while on your own, and one that Frank never let you forget. He was right, unfortunately, and heavy footsteps reiterated the importance of the mantra as they approached your temporary home.

There weren’t many places for you to hide, but you made it work, you had to. The bathroom was small and smelled like mildew, but you couldn’t care about the dangers of black mold when you had a target on your back. The gun felt lighter in your hand this time, and your posture felt natural as you crouched against the bathroom wall.

Time didn’t exist in moments like this. The moments where the world sounded like warm, rushing blood and high pitched screeching. Moments where you become reduced to your primal state, clenching jaw and eyes blown wide as they study the mirrored motel room. Moments where you held your breath, watching and waiting in anticipation of who would barge into your temporary sanctuary, noting the constant footsteps..

The footsteps never stopped, not even as they stepped over the limp body and pooled blood. You foolishly hoped you would have been met with the familiar darkened gaze, that he would lift you by your shoulders and tell you that you did good, but the man that barged into the room was ruthless. Cold-blooded.

His gun was already drawn, spraying the mattresses and walls with bullets and fury, sending drywall crumbling and flaking onto your head and shoulders.

Point. Shoot. Kill.

You inhaled, not even considering it could be the last time your lungs expanded to its full capacity, before glancing in the mirror a final time.

You looked like a version of yourself you had buried long ago—a version that hadn’t emerged since you had left home. It was reminiscent of something you fought to avoid, but you couldn’t run this time, not as the pang of gunshots echoed throughout the motel room.

He moved quickly, and you wondered if he was trained on the same basis: shoot first, ask later. He wasn’t the first one you had encountered, trigger-happy and determined, and you knew they always ran out of bullets quicker than they should.

Your golden opportunity sounded like a few seconds of silence followed by a huff of air leaving your lips before you reached around the corner, catching the man off guard as you unleashed three rounds towards his rigid frame.

“God damnit!” he shouted as a bullet ripped through the meat of his thigh.

His eyes were black, rolling into the sockets like a blood hungry shark, and you genuinely thought his teeth would crumble under the pressure of his clenched jaw.

The bathroom was no solace; you were cornered, backed into a cage like an animal waiting for its turn to be brought to the slaughterhouse. Surrendering wasn’t an option. It didn’t exist for people like the one hunting you—for people like Frank.

The thought of Frank coming back to your makeshift home, littered with blood and bodies, made your stomach churn. It meant you failed, that you weren’t capable of keeping up with him, and it was embarrassing. You failed him; you failed Amy, and you failed yourself once again, though that mattered little anymore.

Your golden moment was quickly interrupted by the sound of grunting and a continuous stream of popping inching towards your hiding place. The wall exploded and ceramic tile flew towards your face before you realized what was happening, and you instinctively receded towards the small spot between the toilet and cabinet.

“Come on out, honey,” he called. “Can’t hide forever!”

You could tell he was hovering outside the remnants of the doorframe, probably waiting for you to crawl out so he could pretend to be merciful by putting a bullet in your head, but his labored breathing told you everything he wasn’t. Your guess was a severed artery, and although he should be down by now, you learned to never underestimate a man with nothing left to lose and steadied your gun on the edge of the counter.

“Just tell me where the girl is and we can figure this out like adults!” “Like adults?” You called out, scanning the bathroom for anything that could help your situation. “Sure,” he huffed out. “We can play house after this. What do you say?”

The toe of his boot peeked around the corner, and your body moved before your mind could catch up.

The man let out a guttural scream and folded in half, instinctively grabbing his bleeding foot. You wasted no time yanking the cheap plastic shower curtain from its holdings before leaping towards the assailant.

He looked like a beached shark, thrashing beneath the fogging curtain, but felt more like a mechanical bull as you held onto him with your thighs, tightening your grip around the curtain.

It happened quickly. So quickly that you hadn’t registered the throbbing pain in the base of your skull as you crashed into the already crumbling drywall. You weren’t sure how he stood, how he gained enough momentum to fling you off of him, but your mind and body remained disconnected as he towered over you.

“I’m gonna ask you one more time,” the man coughed, failing to cover his mouth. “Where’s the girl?”

This wasn’t supposed to be the end. This was humiliating, and yet there you were, blinking away stars and choking on dust. You attempted to sit up straight, regaining your dignity, before your knuckles hit the familiar carbon steel.

There was only one shot, and you prayed Amy had made it out and ran as far away from you as she could—this wasn’t a place for young girls, yet you felt small enough in that moment. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be.

Point. Shoot. Kill.

He fell with a great thud, nearly landing on top of you. His mouth and eyes were still open, completely unsuspecting of his demise, and you were hypnotized by the crimson dripping from the bullet-sized hole in his forehead.

It was seamless, and you think Frank would have been proud had he walked in through the blown out door, but he doesn’t. Nobody was coming.

“He talked too much.” Her voice startled you, and you instinctively reached for the gun. “Whoa,” she warned, “it’s okay, it’s just me.” She showed her palms, emerging fully from the small closet.

“Amy,” you whispered, afraid that she was just an apparition.

“You okay?” She knew it was a stupid question the second it left her mouth, but she asked anyway—she at least meant it.

“Fine,” you huffed, pushing yourself to your feet. “We have to leave.”

“Leave? What about Frank?”

You had already limped across the room, adding the new guns and wallets to the duffel bag, and didn’t need to see the confusion on her face to know she was skeptical of your plan. “He’ll find us,” you tried to believe yourself, but you knew he would understand.

You’d had this conversation before; if anything were to happen to him, you and Amy were to find a Madani somewhere in New York. It was a 10 hour drive, but you were confident you could make it in six if you left now.

The room felt smaller with two bodies and crumbled drywall littering the floor. You could ignore the claustrophobic feel, but Amy stood frozen in place, studying the tread marked puddle of blood beneath her feet.

“Hey,” you started, “look at me. Look at me, Amy.”

She was pale, her eyes sunken into their sockets. It was impossible to make sense of how she looked so young, yet so hardened at that moment, but there wasn’t enough time to wonder. “Amy, we have to go, okay?” Her cheeks were soft beneath your palms. You tried to pull her from her trance, begging her to come back to the shitty motel room of death, but she stayed tucked away in the safest corner of her mind.

“You’re bleeding,” she muttered. “What?” “Bleeding. You’re bleeding.”

Her eyes led a trail to the soft curve of your waist. Your shirt stuck to your skin with an uncomfortable warmth, and you pretended it didn’t ache when you placed a few fingers over the gash.

You wanted to laugh at the irony, deluding yourself with a false sense of accomplishment. It was always too good to be true, and you were reminded of the cruel fact that things could always be worse as the sound of heavy footsteps pulled you from the pain. Amy ran towards the familiar hiding spot without being told, and your heart broke into smaller pieces.

It was getting old, the pointing and shooting and killing. It was getting old, and you were tired of calling the shots—you were tired of waiting for Frank to come back.

Fuck him. Fuck him for leaving you. Fuck him for leaving Amy. Fuck him for making you add two more heads to your roster.

Your arm ached as you leveled the gun, and you let out a sharp cry as your skin pulled in separate directions, the cotton of your shirt peeling from the wet wound. It was a matter of seconds before you would claim your next victim, but all you felt was the burning rage towards the man that left you in this position. It was automatic at this point; all you saw was a threat, so you acted, unloading rounds until all that remained was a busted door frame and tear stains against your grimy cheeks.

“Shit,” he whispered, not even acknowledging the body that he stepped over. “No no no, what happened?” He strung a hand behind your neck, forcing you to watch the way his eyes scanned your face. He meant well, you think, but you couldn’t look at him, especially as he thumbed through the tears that escaped your waterline. “Where’s the kid?”

God damn him. “Closet,” you choked out.

He was gone as quickly as he came, and your knees took the brute of the fall with a thud, masking the sound of the closet doors falling as Frank ripped them from the hinges. The stars in your eyes glistened, your peripheral shrinking, and you weren’t even sure if he was real. If he had actually come back, if he had actually left you on the floor, face to face with your bloody work.

“You okay, kid?” He crouched to her level, but she quickly uncurled herself, practically jumping from the small space to push past Frank and joined you on the damp carpet. “Are you okay?” she asked, her brows furrowing as she studied your face. “I’m fine," you whispered, bracing yourself against the mattress to hoist yourself to your feet. Frank hovered, like he usually did, unsure of his place between the two of you. His anger was palpable, and you made yourself as small as possible, limping towards the disheveled duffle bags. He watched you, noting the way you winced with each step. It killed him, knowing that his shit would eventually catch up to you, too, but he gulped it down, turning his attention towards Amy.

“I’m sorry,” Frank started, grabbing Amy’s shoulders before bending to her level. “I’m sorry this happened. I shouldn’t have left.” “I’m fine,” she mumbled. “Seriously. It could’ve been worse.” “Yeah, you coulda been killed. I shouldn’t have left you alone.” He regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth.

Alone. The bile rose from your stomach and burned the lining of your throat at the indirect insult.

“I wasn’t alone,” Amy snapped at Frank before sinking into the mattress. “Look, this is all my fault. I was the one that ordered food, she didn’t know.” It was humiliating having Amy come to your defense like that, even though she was right. Frank’s stare burned, and your feet involuntarily took you to the destroyed bathroom to escape his attention. “What?” He spat. “I mean, really. I probably would have died but she handled them.” She crossed her arms against her chest. “It was actually kinda cool.” “There’s nothin’ cool about this,” Frank hissed. “C’est la vie, I guess.” “C’mon,” he ordered. “Pack up.” “Everything’s already ready.” She motioned towards the perfectly lined duffle bags that you had assembled.

He didn’t have much to say. He was almost relieved at the fact that you were ready to leave him. You could make it on your own, he knew that much. You were strong enough, but a part of him wished you didn’t have to be—that you didn’t have to deal with his shit.

Amy watched as he shifted his weight outside the bathroom door, his fingers flexing and clenching in anticipation.

His heart broke as he caught a glimpse of your reflection in the busted mirror, your head hanging low as you sat on the edge of the bathtub.

He was afraid of you. Afraid that you had made up your mind and had enough of him, that this was the final straw. But the worst thing, he decided, was the possibility that this, that he, was enough for you—that you would pledge your loyalty to a man like him. To a life like this.

“Time to go,” he finally knocked against the remaining wall. You were quick to listen, pretending that you hadn’t been crying, and you pushed past him. The carpet squelched beneath your stride, and you ignored it long enough to pull Amy into your chest, focusing on the sweet smell of her shampoo. She stayed there for what seemed like forever until she became cognizant of her flickering facade. “You okay?” you whispered, nodding your head as if you could somehow convince her she was. She followed suit, swallowing down any trace of emotion that threatened to spill over, but her eyes betrayed her. Frank had seen enough.

It was too much—too much of a reminder that he had failed again, that his perpetual failings would always result in the loss of a life. Your commitment to Amy’s safety was evident; it was a continuation of what you couldn’t give your sister, and he was ashamed that he brought you back to the place where he met you. “Let’s go,” he cleared his throat. You listened, as you always do, breaking your moment of respite with Amy to shove two heavy duffle bugs over your shoulder, not caring to look behind you as you head towards a bulky van. Amy watched you disappear, shuffling her feet in frustration. “You really should take it easy on her.” Frank said nothing, instead sifting through the empty pockets of corpses. “Hey,” she kicked the limp hand, forcing Frank to stop his search. “I mean it. Lighten up.” “You done?” He stood, completely towering over Amy. His jaw clenched against his will, yet she held his gaze. “Be nice.”

“Time to go.” He didn’t wait for her, so she watched her footing as she tiptoed over the broken bodies.

She lingered in the doorframe, committing the bloodbath to memory. It was fucked that she had to—that the motel room reeked of blood and guts instead nail polish remover and pizza. But that’s how these things went, and you watched from the safety of the van as she slammed the door shut on that dirty fucking room.

You pretended that her clumpy mascara was still intact as she climbed in the van's backseat. She pretended you didn’t jump at the sound of Frank slamming his door closed as he slid into his seat. He pretended that this wasn’t his karmic debt catching up to him.

A caravan of fucking liars.

“Where are we going?” Amy broke the uncomfortable silence, and you held your breath. “New York,” he said with a sigh.

New York, a Madani, and a caravan of liars.

There was a poetic moment of silence and anticipation, and then the engine roared to life.

next chapter

Frank ‘ 😍 😍 😍 ’ Castle.

THE PUNISHER REWATCH

JON BERNTHAL AS FRANK CASTLE IN THE PUNISHER (SEASON 1)

Girls just wanna fuck Frank Castle

weren't we the stars in heaven? | m. murdock

a/n: hi guys. so sorry i haven't posted a full length fic about matt in a while so as a sorry here's a BEAST of a fic. i have nothing much to say about this, but i will say that i am not thrilled with the ending but oh well. enjoy! i'm gonna go take a nap but i am really proud of this so if you guys like it, let me know! warnings: oh boy. so many things. cursing, use of weed, drinking, matt is married but it's an open marriage, lots of religious imagery, sex, rough fucking, unprotected sex, no use of y/n, lowkey some mean matt smut, his kid is autistic but its not mentioned a ton, reader is hard of hearing but its only mentioned once, female reader with female anatomy, age gap, nicknames, ANGST, dirty talk, hella flirting and pining, just. it's a lot. word count: 9.2k (holy moly) summary: you develop a crush on a friend of your dad's from work. the only problem is that he's married, twice your age, and you babysit his son. pairing: dbf!matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: anything - adrianne lenker "lay on your lap when i'm crying/weren't we the stars in heaven?/weren't we the salt in the sea?/dragon in the new warm mountain/didn't you believe me?"

Spring

A week at home is too long. You think about how torturous a whole summer here will be. It’s almost enough to make you sign up to be a summer orientation leader or even a tour leader. Almost. The pay isn’t that good to stay in the dorms without AC all summer.

Of course, your mother asks you to go to church on Easter Sunday and because she did your laundry and cooked you your first home-cooked meal in months, you oblige her.

And as you’re sitting there, on your knees with your hands folded, your eyes peek open, beginning to wander around the church. It’s way too hot in this church, and you are bored out of your mind.

You realize you are the only one who is bored out of your mind. Well.. Almost.

Your gaze catches onto a man who looks just as bored as you do, only, you can’t really tell if he’s looking at you. You lean your head back and roll your eyes, trying to signal how god damn bored you are to him. He just smirks, and your heart flutters.

It almost looks like his smirk widens at that.

Your face flushes and you just put your head back down, closing your eyes as if you’ve been caught doing something you’re not supposed to.

Eventually when the service is over, you’re still thinking about the strange man on the other side of the church as you sip church lemonade that is way too sweet—But you’ve been up for hours and this is the first thing you’ve had since you woke up.

Your parents are making pleasant conversations with various friends they know, and you smile awkwardly at friends from high school. You almost choke on your lemonade when you see the man make his way out of the church, his arm hooked to a woman’s as he taps a cane against the pavement, a young boy next to them as well.

And before you know it, the family of three is approaching your family and your ears are burning red.

Your dad happily shakes his hand and pulls him in for one of those weird man hugs that you don’t really understand, as your mother does one of those weird moves where she presses her cheek against his wives.

Your father gestures over to you and says, “This is our daughter,” And he gives them your name, “She’s home for spring break from school.”

You wave to the kid, before shaking the wife’s hand, and then his— His hand is warm. Your heart is racing and you just shake his hand, trying to ignore the soft squeeze that accompanies the shake.

“Matthew,” He introduces himself like your insides aren’t discombobulated, “Matthew Murdock.” You just look at him, blinking for a second, and your mind begins to wander. How did he know you were rolling your eyes in the church if he’s blind? And how is he so hot?

You think you might die—Your face is flushed, and you think for sure that you’ve been caught, and that his wife will see right through this little charade and knows that you have a huge crush on her husband, whom you just met. He must know what he’s doing because he just smirks at you and opens his mouth to say something, but your mom just looks at you with a look of concern.

“Honey, are you alright?” she asks, “You look warm,” You shake your head with a soft smile.

“No, I’m uh.. Well, I think I’m gonna take a quick walk, find some shade—Excuse me.” You say politely, but before you can leave the conversation, Matt smiles,

“I’ll come with you. I could use the fresh air.” He offers, and you almost say no, but your mom smiles like she’s trying to fucking kill you—

“What a wonderful idea, You can tell Mr. Murdock all about your studies.” She offers, and something in your stomach twists with embarrassment—the way she phrases it makes you sound so.. young. So, you just offer Matt your arm, and he hooks his hand onto it like it’s casual.

And so, the pair of you walk through the courtyard of the church, eventually finding a bench where the sun barely creeps through the leaves of the willow tree that hangs over it, and the pair of you sit down, silence overwhelming you.

“So, what’s your major?”

“Oh, uh—English. I’m an English major.” You say, almost ashamed at how boring you sound, “And.. what do you do?”

“I’m a Lawyer,” he smiles. Your dad is a security guard at the court you have in town, so there’s no question of how they know each other.

“Your wife seems nice,” you blurt out, wanting to say something nicer to convince him—maybe yourself, that you really truly are not jealous of a woman you just met.

“She is,” he answers politely, as if that’s.. the kindest thing he can say about her.

“What’s your son’s name?” You ask curiously.

“Lucas.” He smiles fondly now, and your heart melts at the thought that this man truly feels nothing but pure, burning affection for his son. “When do you go back to school?” He asks curiously.

“Oh, tomorrow.” You smile, “Thank god.”

Then, he catches you off guard.

“That’s the most genuine thing you’ve said since we sat down.” He smirks, “Not a fan of your hometown?”

You don’t know how to explain it, not really—When you were applying to college, your mom asked you if you wanted to apply to any local colleges. And while you’re persistent that there’s nothing wrong with community college, you were sure that you needed to get out of here, or else you think you would’ve died.

But, you owe Matt an explanation.. Well, maybe you don’t, but you think you do.

“It’s not that,” You promise, “There’s just something about being here that brings out the worst in people.” You sigh.

His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, and while it’s subtle, you notice the way that his thumb rubs against your skin, and you might melt right into him.

“Don’t let anyone ever shame you for leaving.” He offers gently, and you think you just about fall in love with him. Then, his head picks up as the screechy tone of his wife calling for him interrupts your conversation. He just sighs, and makes a bold move—his hand goes to your thigh and gently, just barely, rubs his fingers against the fabric of your sundress, the tips of his fingers teasing your skin. “Well, I’ll.. see you in the summer then?” he ponders.

“Uh-huh..” You say, your eyes soft with want. Then, he walks right out of your life.

Summer

As spring melted into summer, and as you finished the rest of your finals, your dad picks you up from your dorm, packing everything you hold near and dear into his truck, and then starting the drive home.

For the past month and a half, you have heard nothing about Matt or his family. Sometimes, you ask your parents, ‘How’s your job, how’s the church’, begging for any crumbs of information about Matt. And you aren’t even sure why, because in your mind, he is very happily married.

It takes about a week. You sit, day after day, summer job hunting, waiting to be doomed to minimum wage and exhausting hours. Then, your mom comes home with groceries and a smile that you know can only mean bad news.

“I found you a job!” She declares happily, as you put the milk in the fridge.

“In the dairy aisle of the grocery store?” You question, and she laughs.

“No, no, I found you a babysitting job for the summer.” She smiles. “For the Murdocks!”

You squeeze the orange in your hand so hard that your thumbnails pierce it as orange juice drips down your hands, blinking before throwing out the orange, your hand reeking of the tangerine, fingers sticky with sugar.

“I’m sorry?” You manage to squeak out.

“You’re going to be babysitting their son, Lucas. They both work from nine to five, sometimes later. You’d get paid to just hangout with the kid,” She shrugged with a soft smile.

Oh, great. You’re gonna be trapped in the man’s house, looking after his kid. Fucking amazing.

-

But, you really don’t even see Matt, especially not the first day. Well, really, you barely see him over the course of the first week, but you get whispers of him, and it’s almost worse. You see his graduation photos, his wedding photos, a photo of him holding Lucas in the hospital.

You see his office door cracked open, you see a mug with his name on it, you see his wedding ring on the table—

You see his wedding ring on the table?

He’s elusive. But, from the fragmented sentences you get from Lucas, he tells you how his parents aren’t quite like other couples. Your mind is caught on the fact that Matt and his wife might not be 100 percent happy together, and then you feel guilty that you want to take it as an opportunity to comfort him, in the least Godly way possible.

Matt and Lucas’ mother will be working late tonight, she tells you in the morning, there’s money for dinner on the counter, and you can just relax until they get home.

Lucas drags you all over town that day. The park, the comic bookstore, and then you spend two hours in target, trying to find anything related to Bluey or Cars 2, the only two things he wants to talk about. Your body is sore from looking after him. He’s a very nice kid, but you recognize that he’s.. different.

Nobody in your town has a diagnosis, but you can tell that Lucas is on the spectrum, and you have every intention of telling Matt to get him a diagnosis, so he has the resources he needs to succeed in school.

But, tonight, you’re tired. Very very tired.

So, after putting Lucas to bed and enjoying a slice of semi cold pizza, along with flat diet soda, you find yourself in the backyard. Lucas’ window is open, and you can see the downstairs steps from where you’re sitting, so you’ll be able to see Lucas if he needs anything.

You’re sitting in a patio swing, letting your feet rock you back and forth. Maybe it’s unprofessional of you.. but you scrounge through your bag, finding your pen and turning it on, taking a long hit. You walk to and from work, so it’s not like you won’t be able to drive yourself home.

Then, you see Matt come in, and you freeze. Fuck.

You watch as he sets his bag down, slipping his suit jacket off after. Then, he tucks his cane somewhere safe, before his fingers begin to work at folding his sleeves up to his elbows. His fingers rub his temple for a minute, obviously exhausted from a long time. Then, he takes off his glasses and your heart skips a beat.

He pauses as soon as your heartbeats and he smirks when he turns towards the backyard door. Oh fuck.

He slides the patio door open and approaches you,

“Why are you outside?” he asks, sitting next to you.

“Uh.. Just, enjoying the weather.” And he laughs like you’re the funniest person he knows as he sits down next to you, groaning as he does, and your heart can barely take it.

“You’re a horrible lair, sweetheart.” He tells you. Does he know how desperately you want him? “What are you really—” Then he pauses, his nose twitching. “Are you smoking weed?” He questions.

“No.” You say, but as you breath out, smoke blows out of your mouth as you cough a bit.

“Oh my god—”

“Wait, wait, wait, don’t fire me—”

“Hand it over.” He says, hand outstretched, waiting for the pen. And not even for a second does your brain imagine denying him. It doesn’t cross your mind that maybe he doesn’t have that authority over you and you’re a grown adult.

In fact, you’re foolish if you ever thought he has no authority over you.

You hand over the pen sheepishly, but.. you’re caught way off guard when is fingers study the pen, finding the button and taking a hit for himself. You just watch him, mesmerized as he exhales through his nose.

“Sorry,” he starts, taking another hit before passing it back to you, “I’ll make it up to you.” he promises.

“It’s okay,” You giggle, a little bit from how comical it was, but a little bit from how fucking hot that was. Then, you take another hit, as he just rocks the porch swing back and forth, like he’s rocking you to sleep. The night is cool enough that the smoke barely rattles your lungs, and the intensity of summer has gone to sleep. Silence fills the air, as you just pass your pen back and forth, love in your eyes.

“Why is your wedding ring on the table?” You finally ask. You expect Matt to tense up, to scoff and tell you to mind your fucking business, but he just blows out more smoke before responding,

“My wife and I don’t have the most.. conventional of relationships.” He responds, “We’re in an open relationship.” He adds.

“Oh.” You breath out.

“Yeah. Oh. It’s more like.. She goes out and dates and fucks and I flirt occasionally, but that’s sort of a long title.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He takes a hit, “Oh.”

You don’t have anything to offer to that.

“Are you from here?” you ask, and he just smiles.

“No.” He says, and now there is true yearning in his voice. “Hell’s Kitchen, New York.” He responds.

“Do you at least like it here?” You ponder, as if his far away voice didn’t give him away.

“At first it’s fine. You try to fit in, just, make your way through, settle down. Then, you begin to hate it. You feel like if it sunk into the ground right at this very second, you’d die happy. Then, you become.. indifferent. You don’t mind the numbness of it all, you just stay perfectly complacent. Then, you wake up and are desperate to escape, like your own personal Truman show. The Matthew Show. Wouldn’t that be something to see?” He muses.

And again, you have nothing to offer but another piece of your soul, just throwing it out there,

“Would you date anyone?”

“Excuse me?”

“Like, if you had someone you were really into, would you date her—Them, whoever?” You ask. “Whomever?” You ask, quieter now, mostly to yourself.

He smiles.

“If someone came along, someone say, who smoked weed, got along very well with my son, and was a horrible liar? Bonus points if she—they,” You suspect he’s making fun of you, “were an English Major?”

You tilt your head with a doe eyed smile.

“You remember I’m an English major?” He coos at you like you’re stupid,

“I remember everything about you, sweetheart.” What is wrong with him? What is wrong with you? Why aren’t you saying anything more to him?

“You know, sometimes, I remember the feeling of your fingers on my thigh when I touch myself,” And he grins like he knows he’s won.

“I bet you do,” He whispers, leaning forward so that his breath was hot against your skin, “Bad, Bad girl..” he ticks, and you can’t help but blush.

“Sorry,” You giggle out as your hand comes up to his face, just to move the pads of your fingers over his scruff.

“It’s okay, sweet girl,” he purrs, his hand finding your thigh again, the twitch of your legs not lost on him. “I don’t mind,” he hums. The weed you smoked is starting to kick in, and with it, your inhibitions start to slip away, your hand reaching so that you can barely touch his hair with the tips of your fingers. He takes another quick hit of your pen before taking your face in his hands, squeezing just a bit so he can lean in and blow smoke into your mouth, and as if it’s communion wine, you inhale, wanting every part of him you can have. Maybe it’s greedy, but you’ll atone for your sins later.

When he pulls away, you think you might just die and go up to heaven.

“I think..” You think so many things. You think that maybe he’s fucking with you. You think that this is a nice little dream that you’ll think back on when you’re old and wrinkly. The deepest, darkest, most insignificant piece of you that you pretend isn’t there, says—

What if he leaves his wife for you?

And you completely understand that you’ve barely kissed the man, but you never claimed that the deep dark part of you was smart, chill or even a little bit in touch with reality, only that it exists.

Besides, the deepest, darkest, most insignificant piece of you that you pretend isn’t there isn’t something you can ignore. Ignoring it is like trying to hold a beachball underwater—Eventually it’ll pop back up and hit you in the face.

“I think that maybe I should head home.” You finally answer, and maybe it’s the weed, but you see a flash of.. disappointment cross over his features. But that couldn’t be it, you’re much more pathetic than he is, he wouldn’t be so upset over you having to leave..

Would he?

But as quickly as the disappointment was there.. It was gone. Poof. As if it had never even existed.

“That’s okay,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and handing your pen back to you so you can tuck it into your bag, until the next time you need another hit. His head picks up as you glance over to door, where his wife walks in, putting her things down. He glances over to you, “Let me walk you home.” He offers.

You smile gently, standing up with him. You don’t say much as you make your way to gather your things from the front door, making pleasant conversations with his wife as he waited for you to get your shoes on. Soon enough, you’re making the quiet walk back to your house, and you’re accepting the swirling mess that is your emotions—Sure, he’s married, technically your boss, way older than you, and most definitely able to read you like a book, but there’s something about him that makes you forget all of that.

Maybe it’s just the general look of him—the salt and pepper hair, the stubble that’s just a bit too long, the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, the way his hands have just a few wrinkles and are covered in scars (from what, you do not know), the feeling of his hand on your thigh or the way his pink lips blew smoke into yours, the way his pants hug the curve of his ass, or maybe, you pathetic college student, maybe it’s the shine of his shoes, professional but just begging you to ride them.

Jesus, you’re too high for this.

But you’re almost certain that what did you in, the roots of your delusion, is the way he squeezed your hand the first time you met. You think, with the upmost affection, that your handshake was the most intimate two strangers could get on a Sunday in the blazing sun, the hypnotic daze of the light shining through the stained-glass windows of the church finally wearing off.

You want to tell him as much, to tell him that you haven’t gone a day without thinking about him since that day, that no amount of college students who ask you out for coffee have been able to drown out the sound of his voice in the back of your head, that the deepest, darkest, most insignificant part of you thinks that he might leave his wife for you.

But the walk home is silent.

You say nothing, but you listen to his breathing, calm, steady. You’re envious. Sure, he’s blind, but there is quite literally no part of you that doesn’t betray you, that doesn’t give you away.

He stops at the end of your driveway, and you hold your breath, waiting for him to speak. You can tell he has something to say, by the way he inhales, lips just barely parted. Sure, you’ve been an English major for years, but you’ve quickly picked up a minor in Matt Murdock studies.

“If I made you uncomfortable tonight, I’m sorry.” He starts, and your brows furrow in confusion.

“I’m—You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” you promise. If anything, even though you were the one who said it was time to go, there’s a twinge of disappointment in your throat.

“Still—I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you or anything..” He starts, “Just.. Have a goodnight.” He smiles gently, his hand slowly, all too slowly, sliding off your arm as he steps away, but in a moment of, possibly THC induced, boldness, you grab his hand as he stands, arm outstretched to you. His sightless eyes hold onto you.

“You aren’t even gonna kiss me goodnight?” You ask, your voice vulnerably hopeful.

His lips twitch up in a smirk, pausing for a second, his head tilted in the most curious way. Like he’s waiting for the perfect moment. Then, he pulls your hand towards him so now you’re the one with the extended arm, like the two of you are dancing, pulling each other back and forth with an intensity birthed from desperation.

He brings your hand up to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back of it, something straight out of a fairytale. But just as quickly, he gently drops your hand, his eyes blazing with affection.

“We’re okay?”

“We’re okay.” You confirm with a soft smile, not wanting to dwell on any uncertainty that’s between the two of you. To accept that there is any uncertainty at all would be to accept the chance that this is as far as you two will get—lingering crushes and the ghost of a pair of lips on your hand.

He waits until you get back into your house, then walks down the sidewalk back towards his house, putting the idea of you in the trunk that sits in his armoire, only in the back of his mind, next to his old suit, his old friends, and his old life.

-

On Monday, you get to the Murdock’s house after Matt and his wife have gone to work, but before Lucas has woken up.

On the counter, a tiny envelope sits, your name typed onto the envelope. You tear it open, finding a freshly bought cartridge for your pen. A note falls out of the envelope, and it’s.. in braille.

You sneak into Matt’s office, pulling out a braille dictionary, and you quickly figure out that the note says, ‘We’re okay?’

In the middle of his work day, Matt gets a text.

‘We’re okay.’

-

When you tell your mom you got invited to go out with some friends from high school, she nearly jumps with excitement. You weren’t exactly popular in High School—that’s not really something you hide, since you’re now going into your senior year of college and you can admit that you were something of a loser in high school..

And in college. But, at your college, that’s more normal and even encouraged, so you run with it.

But your stomach churns at the idea of hanging out with the girls that you hung out with in high school—Wasn’t one of them married?

You knew from your mom, mostly, that the three girls from high school stayed very much in touch throughout their time in college. They were always closer to each other than you were with them, but you know that wasn’t really their fault. They were dumb teenagers just like you.

Maybe not inviting you to hangout outside of school was a side effect of being a seventeen-year-old, as so many things were.

You tell her that you have no interest in going out with them, but she tells you that you should have some friends at home! You want to tell her that having no friends was one reason why you went away to school, but instead, you text them back, asking what they had in mind.

So that’s how you end up in a bar two towns over, liquor burning the back of your throat, your head pounding and your ears aching. Your face twists into despair as you swallow the shot, not feeling as good as your ‘friends’. You’ve never been a fan of drinking, even feeling guilty when you took your first shot of communion wine when you were 8.

Your friends start giggling and laughing as you try to keep up with the conversation, a little lost, a sinking feeling in your stomach as you poke at the ice in your empty glass with a straw.

Then, the bartender comes over to you, placing your drink of choice in front of you, your friends pausing their conversation as she does.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t order that,” You say politely, smiling awkwardly to her. You wish you were underage, you wish you were anywhere but here, you wish—

“Actually, the gentleman at the bar got it for you,” she smiles, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, glancing at the bar and—

Warmth explodes in your chest, your heart beginning to thump loudly in your ears.

Your friends laugh a bit, shoving your shoulders gently, teasing you.

“You have to go talk to him,” One starts, and another picks up,

“He’s hot!” You smile shyly down to the drink in front of you and nod,

“Fine.” You hum, picking up the drink and walking over to where Matt sits at the bar, sipping a whiskey on ice. You sit next to him, and for a moment, neither of you say anything, and then his head turns to you.

“Why are you here with people you don’t like?” he asks, and you just blink in surprise.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your friends. You don’t like them.” He says, and you just blush, embarrassed.

“How do you know that?” You ask, and he shrugs, taking a sip of his drink.

“You’re just.. quieter than usual.” He says honestly, sending you a sympathetic smile. You feel seen in the worst way possible. It’s like you’ve spent your entire life hiding, and Matt can see you for exactly what you are. Your face burns with embarrassment, taking another sip of your drink.

“Can we just flirt and almost fuck like we usually do?” You wonder.

“That makes it sound so much more.. casual than it is.” He pouts, and you just laugh, already feeling more relaxed than you had been before. And it isn’t even because of the alcohol, or so you suspect.

“What are you doing in a bar two towns over?” You ask, unsure how to respond to his comment about the casualness of your.. relationship, although that’s a rather strong word for what you two have.

“I was meeting with a client in town,” he responds, “Thought I’d stop for a drink before going home.” He says, and all you can find to respond is,

“Won’t your wife be mad at you for getting a drink when you could be home?” And he laughs, like you said something funny or cute.

“No, when she says she’s working late, she’s probably getting a drink and hooking up with someone. I thought I’d try it.” He smirks, and your face flushes. This is not a man who has any pure or holy intentions, and that absolutely turns you on. You have so little inhibition at this point that you simply lean forward, grab his tie, and pull him in for a long kiss.

Your nose twitches at the smell of vanilla, mixed with a bit of the whiskey, but quickly followed by just a hint of lemon. His hand quickly finds your waist, causing your posture to straighten as he kisses you deeper, his other hand trailing up your thigh, just like that first day outside the church.

The bar is dingy, so no one cares when he pulls away to finish his drink, then, straightens out his tie (which might kill you), and then he stands up, taking your hand in his.

“Let’s go,” he says quickly, pulling you along to the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. On the way there, your friends whistle and hoot, and while your face flushes, Matt does not seem to even notice. He opens the bathroom door without hesitation, like he knows it will be empty.

And the bathroom is.. disgusting. It’s dingy, dirty, but the sink looks.. clean enough. As soon as the door is closed behind you, Matt has you against it, his hands exploring your body as he kisses you, your hands instinctively going to his hair, as if you’ve done this a million times before.

His kisses are gentle, but invasive, like he wants to taste every single inch of your mouth with his tongue, and you happily let him. His fingers slip beneath your skirt, creeping up, finally finding the waistband of your panties, and he hums against your lips as if to shush you when you whine at the contact, his fingers slipping right under them to touch your throbbing cunt—It’s the type of warmth he’ll chase during cold, snowy days come winter.

His lips begin to attack your skin, kissing your jaw and your neck as he rubs circles into your clit, sucking up the breathy moans that escape your lips as he touches you. You’re soaking wet, and he wonders if you’ve ever been with anyone who knows where your clit is.

His fingers don’t even slip inside you, they just rub your clit with the attention it deserves, Matt taking your moans and how your hands grip his shirt as payment. But the movement of his fingers are too much for you, and before you know it, you’re squeezing your eyes tight, hands tangled in his clothes and hair, as you reach your first orgasm of many brought to you by the man.

He continues to rub your clit as you come down from that high, your breath getting more even, despite the way your skin burns and cum drips down your thighs. Then, he kisses you, jarringly soft—

“All that over some attention from my fingers?” He teases, that shit eating grin on his face. Part of you wants to tell him to fuck off, defend yourself, but you recognize, as does he, that he holds all the power in this dynamic.

“If I say yes, will you fuck me properly?” Because ‘make love’, despite what your mother and aunts always said, doesn’t seem proper. You two aren’t in love.. you’re in lust for this man—Or at least, you’re telling yourself that because of how desperately you want his cock inside you.

“I guess you’ll have to try it and find out.” He says, as if he’s not hard, his cock twitching in his pants at every little whiff he gets of you.

“Yes.” You hum, “All that over your fingers,” And he just smirks before asking,

“Anything else?”

“…Please?” And it seems to be the magic word, because he leans forward and kisses your cheek before adding,

“Good girl.” And at how excited that makes you, Matt finds himself practically fumbling for the condom he had put in his wallet the day he met you, but as soon as you realize it, you’re grabbing at his hands, trying to take it out of his hands, and his free hand finds your chin, gripping it just tightly enough to make your brain feel fuzzy, “What? What is it, baby?” he asks, and you have to take a moment before you respond,

“I’m on the pill, we don’t need a condom,” And a part of Matt’s brain that never quite grew out of the Catholic upbringing in which he was raised wants to remind you of all of the complications that could come with that, but another, stronger and more tempting part of his brain, the devil part of his brain thinks about the feeling of being buried deep inside of you, in the middle of this dingy fucking bathroom, with your ‘friends’ waiting outside, and he literally tosses the condom on the floor.

No words are spoken as he kisses you again, his hand that was holding the condom now working on unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, his free hand simply holding yours—perhaps the most romantic thing a man has ever done for you.

Eventually, your panties are rolled down to your ankles, and he pulls you just to the edge of the sink so you’re hanging onto him for dear life, and he just kisses you, and in between kisses he says, “Shh, shh, I’ve got you, just like that,”, and you trust him.

He pulls away from kissing you, to take your chin in his hand one more time and demand your attention.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he starts, “And it might hurt at first, but we’re gonna go slow, okay?”

“Okay,” and he kisses your forehead, strikingly loving compared to the situation that you have found yourself in. You wait, anticipation dripping down your thighs, before Matt slowly pushes himself inside of you, and as he fills you up, you moan into his skin.

There’s a part of Matt that starts shaking at the feeling of how tight you are around him. He lets out a low groan, his breath hot against your neck, as he bottoms out inside of you, his finger twitching a bit, aching to fuck you so intensely you’ll forget your own name..

But he resists, waiting for your grip on him to loosen softly,

“We’re okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“We’re okay,” You breath out, ready for him to move.

“Yeah, I know, baby, we’re okay,” he purrs, before slowly, agonizingly slowly, beginning to thrust in and out of you, only encouraged by your moans as they begin to pick up, thrusting into you faster, unable to resist the way you clench around him.

Your fingers barely scrape over his skin as he thrusts into you, his lips kissing your skin. He wants to tease you, he wants to tell you that you’re so dirty, letting a grown man fuck you in a dingy bathroom, but he finds himself lost in your warmth, unable to provide you with the dirty talk that he has dreamt of giving you for months.

But.. this is better. This is a well put together man, who falls apart at the feeling of your cunt, who shudders at the feeling of your hands on his, who tears apart at the seams of his being when your lips touch his. It’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to being an artist, mending and molding him with your hands.

It’s mesmerizing, and if you could, you’d stay here forever, letting him fuck into you like it’s his god damn job, slowly becoming faster, harder, more intense, never letting up, so you decide to push him—

“Need you to come inside me,” You pant out, and Matt won’t ever admit it to you, but he almost comes right then and there, not even bothering to give you a warning. Almost.

“I will, baby,” He hums, kissing your neck as sweat glistens his forehead, trying to push himself, trying to fuck you like you deserve, like he knows you deserve, his thrusts unrelenting.

Your thighs begin to shake as you claw at him, your breath catching in your throat.

“Matt- Please, oh my god—” You whine, “I’m gon—”

“Yeah, I know, baby, You’re squeezing around me so well,” He purrs, “C’mon, you can cum, you just gotta let go for me,” He advises, “C’mon, show me how good I’m making you feel,” And as you creep closer to the edge, your heart thumps loudly in his ears- You can’t help yourself. You’re sort of taken by the fact that when he’s breathless like this, you can hear his New York accent twinge out of him..

And that might just be what pushes you over the edge.

You cum with a moan, shuddered into his ear, panting as he keeps thrusting into you. The only time your mind wanders is rather briefly, as the way the stained glass windows looked in your church on the day you met him.

He lets out a soft whimper as he bathes in the feeling of you coming around his cock, the feeling of your hands in his hair, the feeling of your breath against his neck—he’s actually falling apart, and his thrusts only stutter as he comes inside you, deep deep within you.

Neither of you say anything as your hips pathetically roll, and he leads you down from your high as he slows his thrusts. For a moment, you both need to sit in the silence of your breathing..

And then, you start to laugh.

He laughs with you.

“What’s so funny?” He asks through laughs, tracing the side of your face with his hand, and you just laugh harder.

“You’re just..” You find the words, “You just exceeded my expectations is all,” and it’s so funny to him, that that’s where your mind goes after he fucked you so well. You’re adorable, he thinks, and he needs to keep you like this forever, stuck in time with his cum dripping down your legs.

When you both come down to earth, finally, he kisses you and says gently, “Let’s get you cleaned up,” And you happily oblige him.

He helps you off the sink, steadying you with his arms as your legs shake, holding onto him like a newborn deer, unsure of your movements.

But soon enough, you’re stable enough to stand on your own and the dawning realization hits you— you just ran away from your friends to go fuck a married man. And.. there’s so little regret—really, there’s nothing much at all that you feel besides an aching in your core for more.

He squeezes your arm gently, before asking,

“Feeling okay, honey?” he asks gently. And you just grin at him.

“Never better.”

-

So, funny enough..

You get grounded after your night out.

“Grounded?” Matt laughs as you tell him that, not at all caring that he has you sitting on his office desk, hands wandering your thighs, “You’re twenty one, how’d they ground you?” He ponders, and you huff.

“Well, my fuckin’ friends were telling their parents about this hookup I had in the bar, and their parents told mine, and they got mad at me—So now I’m only allowed to go to work, and then go home.” You huff.

Matt smirks against your skin, kissing your neck. He pulls back and grips your chin, tilting your head up to look to him, his thumb slipping into your mouth, pressing your tongue down.

“What’re you gonna do all summer, stuck in your big bad bosses house?” he asks, and you just roll your eyes as your face reddens. “Don’t worry, pretty thing,” he says gently, planting a long kiss to your jaw, “Your old man is gonna take good care of you.”

And you know he means it, too.

-

One weekend, your parents go away. They trust you won’t have any boys over, not even considering the idea that you’d have Mr. Murdock over.

He has his arm wrapped around you as you lay in bed, mumbling something soft in your ear. You roll over, admiring him for a minute, the way his eyes look.. he’s so pretty. You reach out and gently touch the skin around his eyes, noticing the scarring around his eyes.

“Hm?” You question, tilting your head. You didn’t quite hear him. He looks at you for a long time before responding,

“I think you’re hard of hearing,” And you can tell by the tone of his voice that he means it. “I’ve noticed it a lot, you always miss things when you aren’t looking right at people, and you’re always asking people to repeat themselves. There’s nothing wrong with that, I just.. You should be able to get the resources you need to help with that.” He shrugs, like it isn’t the most observant anyone’s ever been of you.

You lean in and kiss him, for a long time, your hand on his cheek. When you pull away, you take a second to breath before kissing him again.

“What was that for?” He eventually asks, a smile on his face.

“I just..” You shrug, “No one’s ever really noticed anything like that about me.” You feel seen, in a way that pulls at your heart. He smiles gently to you, kissing your forehead before responding,

“All I’ll ever want is for you to feel seen.”

-

The end of the summer comes a lot faster than you would’ve liked. You had a great summer, you tell yourself, you spent a lot of time at work with Lucas, smoking weed, sitting under the stars, and being with Matt.

But, as your move in date for your senior year approaches, and you begin to start packing, an anxiety starts to creep into you.

How will you say goodbye to him?

Neither of you have discussed what will happen when that day comes, but it looms over you like doomsday. Each day that passes, you get hit harder and harder with the realization that summer will end, and nothing will be the same.

And eventually, though you will and pray it does not, the day comes.

It’s hot. Blaring hot, hotter than you would’ve liked. Even as the sun begins to set, there’s a brutality to the air that does not provide any relief.

You’ve already said goodbye to Lucas and Matt’s wife, so now, you just sit on your front porch, staring at the house down the street. When the door to the house opens, you advert your eyes like you’ve been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

Soon after, you pick your head up to see Matt approaching you. He smiles to you, and you try to smile back, but your heart aches with the knowledge that this will be the last time you see him until.. well, you aren’t sure when. You stand up to meet him at the end of your driveway.

“All packed?” he asks. You scoff softly.

“Something like that.” You shrug, and he smiles.

“What’re you still missing?” You answer before you can stop yourself.

“You.” You say, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. Immediately, his arms are around you, overheating you in the late August weather, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. He holds you gently, as if you’ll break when he lets go, crying into your shoulder. His hand rubs your back as he gently shushes you.

“It’s okay,” he says gently, “I’ll be here when you get back.” He promises, and you know he’s right. But for the first time, leaving your home will be hard, and you do not know what to do about it, other than buy a candle that might smell like him.

You stay like that for a long time, longer than you care to admit, before he slowly pulls away. You look to him for a few minutes, before he kisses your forehead. He hands you an old Columbia tee shirt of his, one that smells just like him, and you clutch it like your life depends on it.

“We’re okay?” He asks gently, and even if it’s a lie, you nod, and respond,

“We’re okay.”

-

Fall

Adjusting to dorm life comes back to you quicker than you would’ve thought, despite your heartbreak that came with living. You and your friends fill your time with studying, smoking, and doing anything you can to distract yourself from the aching in your chest.

But, you can’t deny, that on nights where it’s too hot to sleep, you scroll through Facebook—yes, Facebook of all things, looking at photos of Matt, getting just small glances into his life from two hundred miles away.

And as the time melts away, you become more and more.. numb to the pain that stung so intensely.. But you also spend a lot of time looking for the cologne that he wore, and you won’t deny that when your roommate leaves for the weekend, you spend hours in the memories of the summer, with your hand between your legs, aching for just a bit of the pleasure he gave you.

You almost have a heart attack when your mom asks you to come to church with her while you’re home for fall break. Of course you’ll go, of course it’ll be your pleasure, mainly because you’re hoping—maybe even praying for him to be there.

When that Sunday comes, you spend an hour getting ready. You know that Matt is blind and won’t care, but maybe a part of you believes you need to dress all pretty for him. You even wear the sundress you wore for Easter Sunday.

Your thighs are already slick with heat when you get there, and your eyes scan the crowd for Matt.. and when you eventually find him, your breath hitches in your throat, just like the first night you felt him inside you.

You grin as you see him, all by himself, at the back of the church. You excuse yourself from your parents, making your way back to him like it’s your god damn birthday you’re so excited.

But as soon as you approach him, someone calls his name behind you—an old friend or maybe a coworker, and Matt walks toward you, and you open your mouth to say something your eyes following him, and then—

He walks right past you, avoiding you completely. Your face falls with disappointment, your heart sinking. Maybe.. he just didn’t realize it was you. Maybe. You don’t know, but it messes with your head throughout all of the service.

You and your family are sitting more towards the back, while Matt and his family sits in front of you—You watch him like it’s your damn job, waiting, waiting, Until—

He gets up, quietly making his way towards a door to the side, one that will lead downstairs and to a restroom. You begin to count to sixty, waiting so very patiently, before quietly excusing yourself, and following him down the stairs.

As soon as you open the basement door, Matt is pulling you further into the basement, to a deep dark corner, and immediately, you’re pressed against the wall, his mouth on your neck. You moan softly as your hands find his hair, tugging on it, as his hands begin to explore your thighs like a starving man.

“Matt—” You go to say, but his hand clamps over your mouth as his free hand tugs off your panties, his hand cupping your cunt as you roll your hips, desperate for more contact than that.

“You gonna be have for me, pretty thing?” He grumbles, and you nod against his hand, so he bites down on your shoulder, “There we go,” He mumbles, his hand coming off your mouth to pull your panties down, before working on his belt and his zipper.

Your hands work at his hair, trying to cope with the fact that he is not being gentle, in fact, he seems to be purposefully mean, like he’s trying to see if you can even take it. This is nothing like when he first fucked you—this is a fucking that is making you see stars, and will leave you in tears.

Two of his fingers spread you open, making sure that you’re ready for him to fuck you. When he decides he is, still kissing your neck, he thrusts into you quickly—unapologetically. He doesn’t care about much else besides chasing that feeling of you clenched around him. He bottoms out inside you and moans against your neck.

Then, his thrusts start. He doesn’t even pretend to start slow, immediately he is thrusting into you, harder than he had in months, relishing in the feeling and the sound of his skin slapping against yours.

“Missed your tight cunt,” He mumbles into your ear, “Missed how well you take me,” he hummed, his pace relentless. He’s trying to satisfy his cravings for you, but his attempt is messy and he’s losing his mind over the idea of not being able to fuck you for another few months.

“I’m—” You whine, your hair falling into your face, your brain fuzzy, “I’m gonna—” He coos softly as he grips your chin with his free hand.

“C’mon, pretty thing, cum for me—” And just like that, you do. You absolutely do. You don’t hold back, and as soon as he feels you clenching around him, he’s coming too. You don’t know what else to do other than let him ride his high. When he pulls out, his hand comes back to your thighs, beginning to gently massage the mess the two of you had made into your thighs, pulling your panties back up so that for the rest of the service, you kind of just.. have to sit with that.

Your hands stay in his hair as he cleans the pair of you up, and you lean in to kiss him, and he lets you, but.. he doesn’t really kiss you back. And it breaks your heart. Your eyebrows furrow, as you reach for him like a child, and he just grabs your hands, “Just.. relax, okay?” He sighs.

“Why are you being like this?” You ask, “You’re..” You struggle to find the words as he buckles his pants, ignoring your gaze. There’s something inside him that’s stopping him from being affectionate towards you, that reminds him that you’ll be heading back off to school in a day or two and his heart will break all over again.

“Go back upstairs, Honey,” he says, but you shake your head.

“No, stop ignoring me—”

“Now.” He says firmly, ignoring the nauseating feeling as the saltiness of your tears fill his senses.

“Fuck. You.” you spit out, and he’s not angry with you for your reaction. It’s valid, of course. He knows why you’re angry, he just fucked you lovelessly, in the basement of the church where you first met.

He doesn’t say anything.

But he listens to the angry sniffles and foot stomps as you make your way back upstairs.

-

Matt’s neglect made you turn a new corner, and as soon as you get back to school, you find yourself constantly working and studying. You can’t possibly think about the intensity of his thrusts, the sternness of his voice.

You can’t talk about it, you can’t talk to any of your friends about the way you fell in love with a married man, you can’t talk to your parents about how you developed such intense feelings for the man who lives down the street..

So, you study.

On Halloween, you get a little too fucked up.

You drink an intense amount, needing to wash away the anger you have for Matt. At some point, you’re sitting in your bathroom floor, leaning against your wall.

Matt does not answer your call.

But you listen to his voicemail like it’s a sermon.

-

Winter

After Halloween, you begin to drink water every day, you eat more balanced meals, and you cut back on your substances. Truly, you know you need to make a change. And you do—school work becomes less of a coping mechanism and more of your job again. You mostly focus on enjoying your senior year.

But as the winter creeps in, you shop around for a gift for Lucas, fondly remembering your time with the young boy, despite your interaction with his father back in October. You store the gift away and focus on your finals. By the time you make it home, you’re exhausted.

You sleep most of the day on the 22nd, and then on the 23rd, you spend your day unpacking and helping your mom get ready for Christmas. Before you go to bed, you wrap Lucas’ present, and store it away, not caring much to deliver it any time soon.

You tell yourself you’ll drop it off tomorrow, and you aren’t sure if you’d rather come face to face with Matt, or his wife. The walk takes seemingly forever, and you feel anxious the whole way there.

You knock on the door, and wait with baited breath.. When Matt opens the door, your breath catches. He looks really good—A grey button up and dark jeans. You just smile at him.

“Hey,” You breath, “Uhm, I was just.. I wanted to give this to Lucas.. Is he here?” You question, not knowing where else he’d be on Christmas Eve.

“Oh, he’s actually staying at his moms today,” And your head darts up.

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” Matt says somewhat sheepishly, “We’re.. Separated. In the process of getting divorced.” He confesses.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” He chuckles, “I guess It was inevitable.”

“Well.. Then I guess you’re not doing anything tonight, huh?” You wonder, and he nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll probably just have a drink and listen to Christmas music.” He chuckles. You ache for him to invite you over. But you don’t get to tell him that before he says, “I’m so sorry about.. October.” He sighs gently, rubbing his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You say gently,

“No. It’s not. I was a dick, and you didn’t deserve that. I really am sorry.”  

“I got over it,” You shrug.

“So.. We’re okay?” He offers.

You smile.

“Yeah. We’re okay.”

“Good. Because I’d really like to take you out sometime. Like, a real date.” He offers, and your face flushes.

“Yeah, that would be really nice..” You grin.

“No more sneaking around?”

“Well.. Maybe from my parents.. And it is kind of sexy,” You grin, taking a step up further onto his porch.

“Yeah?” He laughs, his hand coming down to rest on his waist. “Maybe that could be arranged.” He hums.

“Good,” You hum, and then you open your mouth to add, but he cuts you off.

“Do you want to stay for dinner? Tell your parents you’re keeping your old man company?” He hums, and your face flushes.

“I’d really like that.”

“That’s my baby,” He hums, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

HAI LEA!! congrats on 10k - huge and well-deserved 🫶 i am here to blabber abt "I just want you a little longer all to myself" because girl- i was that anon that messaged u about how i couldn't stop rereading that blurb when u put it out. i want that kind of secret office relationship with matt so so so bad @—@ also what's your favorite thing(s) you've written for mm please :p

*DRAMATIC GASP* BRO THAT WAS YOU??? 😮

well, i love all of my stories. if i don't love what i write, then i just don't write it, change it till it hits my feels the way it should, simple as that. if there are any that i'm not that crazy about, then it's just some of the early stuff when my writing skill wasn't what it is today. it's still good, it's still fun, but i could do it better today, you know?

if i had to highlight a few, these would be them:

i adore the series buttercup. i wrote it while procrastinating the kinda intimidating thing i'm writing currently and i only gave myself one week to do it, but i didn't expect to fall so in love with them as i did. i don't wanna promise anything, but i do think that when the new series comes out, and i watch it, that i'll write another wave of chapters for that story. i have a ton of ideas written down for what should happen next, i mean, they're still just in the very beginning of their relationship, so there's so much more ground to cover. yeeaaahhh, i still think about that story way too much, like it's borderline a problem because i don't at all have time to continue it rn.

breakfast in bed!! DOMESTIC👏NASTY👏MORNING👏BONE-TOWN👏LEADING TO MATT BEING LATE TO COURT👏

i too love I just want you a little longer all to myself. matt in the office just hits different...

speaking of matt in the office, dizzy is way too cute for me to handle.

「 come join my 10k celebration 」

·: 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲

(𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐱 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧)

Too many thots, too little time. Welcome to the boyfriend’s dad!Andy Barber sandbox for my one shot: 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | boyfriend's dad!Andy Barber x reader, ft. dilf neighbour!Bucky Barnes, dilf!Ari Levinson, lumberjack!Steve Rogers

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | SMUT - minors DNI, AGE GAP, cheating, boyfriend's dad!andy (he is a warning), daddy kink, specific warnings in each part

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Icky college boys will never change—so sleep with their dads.

♫ ·ﾟ𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝗧𝗼𝘁𝗮𝗹 𝗪/𝗖 | 11.5K

𝗔/𝗡 | reminder that this is a fanfic, I don’t condone cheating. No update schedule. Look at what you did bestie, @sarge-barnes-sir, from this ask. thank you to @sightiff for the title😌 No update schedule, no taglist. [*=smut] ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

Feel free to send blurb requests or asks about this series!

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒: (3/?)

Cruel*

Hell’s Kitchen*

First Impressions

En Voyage* (1/3) - battle of the dilfs: boyfriend’s dad!andy, dilf!bucky barnes, dilf!ari levinson

(2/3) battle of the dilfs: boyfriend’s dad!andy barber, dilf!bucky barnes, dilf!ari levinson & ft. dilf!Frank Adler

Triune* (3/3) - battle of the dilfs: boyfriend’s dad!andy barber, dilf!bucky barnes, dilf!ari levinson, & ft. lumberjack dilf!Steve Rogers, dilf!Frank Adler, dilf!Ransom Drysdale

𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐒: and set-in the story drabbles

hot tub and the dilf next door*

after “Cruel”*

first time calling andy daddy*

andy sending you videos* | you sending andy pictures*

your relationship(s)

in andy’s office* | panty stealing*

some of the camping trip* | a snippet of the camping trip* | snippet of the pussyjob donations* (ft. the dilfs: andy, bucky, ari)

drunk calling Andy

On The Line*

𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐘: tags

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬: #cruel drabble

Discussions/Drabbles: thots | fluff

all asks | ideas | art | spicy videos | videos/tiktoks | about | psa

battle of the dilfs

Characters: andy | reader | bucky | ari | steve | ransom

Richie Jerimovich Masterlist

One Night Stand (NSFW) - It was never meant to be more than a one night stand.

Old School - Richie and you prefer to do things old school.

Safe With You - Richie still has nightmares about how he found Michael.

Joy - The stabbing leads Richie to confront some of the doubts he has about himself.

All The Good Ones Are (NSFW) - Richie has never thought of himself as one of the good ones.

Happy Anniversary - Richie fucks up your first wedding anniversary.

Gift (NSFW) - Richie has always thought of you as a gift.

86 - Richie 86es a patron at The Bear.

Masterlist 2023

Flashback: Masterlist 2018 || Masterlist 2019 || Masterlist 2020 || Masterlist 2021 || Masterlist 2022

AO3

My fics are mostly reader-insert (POV 2nd person, f!reader), unless it’s stated otherwise in the description.

Julian Kaye (American Gigolo, 2022)

Friends and Benefits (smut; the reader is in escort buisiness)

Cure for a Restless Heart (some angst and hurt/comfort; smut - oral sex; FEELS)

Shane Walsh (The Walking Dead)

Shame on Me (drabble; smut, semi-public sex)

Loving You Easy (flirting, ALMOST smut, being caught)

Griff (Baby Driver, 2017)

Spark (tattoo master!Griff AU; smut - casual sex)

Skulls and Roses (tattoo master!Griff AU; smut - casual sex)

Ink (drabble; smut; doggy style; spanking)

BJ Rose (Grudge Match, 2013)

The Warmest Weekend (romance; soft smut; domestic bliss)

Frank Castle (The Punisher)

Fix You (angst, blood & injuries; hurt/comfort; smut - hand jobs)

The Mute (Pilgrimage, 2017)

Butterflies (soft smut; loss of virginity; love confessions)

– FRANK CASTLE – SHANE WALSH – MICHAEL BERZATTO – JULIAN KAYE – JOE TEAGUE – SAM ROSSI – SWAINO – ETHAN SAWYER – OTHER CHARACTERS – FRANK X KAREN

​​ > You can also find my fics on AO3 or @darlingshanefics​

✈️ Business or Pleasure ✈️

Relationship: Frank Castle x F!Reader Fandom: The Punisher Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6658

Warnings and other tags: Alternate Universe – First Meetings – Hotel sex – Gift fic – Explicit sexual content – One-Night Stands – Enthusiastic Consent – Porn with feelings – Soft – Unprotected Sex

Summary: You meet him on a business trip.

Also on AO3

Late birthday gift for @darlingshane. Last time it took me 3 days to write you a fic, this time it took me 3 weeks. It's very different from the one I wrote you last year, but I hope you enjoy it as well 🧡🧡🧡

The hotel bar that you are sitting in is cast in a soft light, while jazz notes drift through the atmosphere. It is as cliché as it gets from a hotel bar, but the place is decorated tastefully, and you enjoy the drinks they serve. 

The clock reads five to ten, and while you had already had dinner, you had not felt like heading to your room yet, instead settling at the bar. You have casually been observing the other patrons while sipping from your glass of wine, but nothing or no one interesting has caught your attention. You are finally considering calling it a night, particularly because you are having an early flight tomorrow, when you see a new client coming through the doors that separate the lobby from the bar. 

He is on the phone as he walks straight for the bar, dressed in dark slacks and a deep gray button down, the first three buttons undone. The hair, longer on top, is tousled and looks like he has repeatedly been running his fingers through it. The man frowns at what the person on the other side of the line says, before his face shifts into a smile and a warm chuckle reaches your ears. He absently nods at you in polite greeting, since he sits down on the stool just to your right, and orders himself a drink from the bartender. 

You keep your face forward as much as you can while you observe his profile as inconspicuously as possible. His jawline is sharp and smoothly shaved, his broad nose, giving his profile something special, runs into the curve of a pair of beautiful lips. 

“Yeah, alright. Let’s talk about it tomorrow. Debrief should be an interestin’ one— Yeah— you too, man.” He hangs up and slides the phone into the pocket of his pants. 

His drink arrives, and he thanks the bartender with a brief nod and small smile. 

“Well, that sounded more like business than pleasure,” you state out of the blue, even surprising yourself with your words since you had not intended to say anything. 

The man turns his face towards you, his eyebrows raised, and looks as surprised as you. You can see him focusing his attention on you, his eyes moving over your face before they slowly take your whole form in. You fight to keep your expression as neutral as you can, not wanting to show just how much his perusal is getting to you, although you can feel your face warming. 

“It was until now,” he finally says with a one-sided smile, as he turns his entire body in your direction. 

Your eyes widen a fraction at his statement, not having expected such an answer from him. You lower your eyes as you smile, almost shyly, before looking back at him. 

“Frank Castle.” He extends a hand to you. 

“Nice to meet you,” you reply once you have introduced yourself and shaken his hand, marveling at their warmth and especially their size. 

“So, what brings you to this place?” He asks as he leans an elbow on the bar and takes a sip from his drink. 

You shrug as you drink from your glass, before you send him a small smile. “Pretty much all business, too.” You pause for a second before deciding to share a bit more. “Had an important deal to take care of.”  

“Yeah? What field do you work in?” 

You consider him for a moment, tilting your head to the side curiously. You think that he is purposely putting all the attention on you instead of himself, but he also looks genuinely interested.

“I work for a small corporation… Not that interesting, I’m afraid,” you chuckle and look at your drink. 

“Ah, come on. I’m sure it is.” 

“Well, I guess it depends— Do you know anything about computer software or graphic design?”  

Frank’s mouth twists into a small grimace as he nods in understanding. 

“No,” he replies with a huffed laugh. 

You grin and shrug again. It is a specific field. 

“And, how did that deal go?” He wants to know, watching you expectantly. 

You cannot help the proud smile that rises to your face as you think back to this afternoon and the accomplishment of months of hard work.

“My new program got signed, so I guess pretty well.” 

“Attagirl!” Frank calls out, toasting you with a warmth in his eyes. 

The back of your neck tingles and warms at his unexpected praise. You smile and take a sip from your drink to hide the effect that this single word has on you. 

“What about you?” You ask, swiping your eyes over him from his feet to his head, analyzing him somewhat. “Secret agent or some sort of military?” 

Frank’s eyebrows go up his forehead in surprise. You had delivered your words with a hint of humor in them, but that had been your first thought after hearing and seeing him. 

“What makes you think that?” He questions with an amused smile, his eyes narrowed curiously. 

“A hunch, I guess— The way you hold yourself, what you said on the phone. I heard you using the word debrief and how you said the time? Fifteen hundred? Sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear your conversation.” You quickly add, not wanting to make it seem like you had purposely been eavesdropping. 

Frank stares at you with a small frown, but he doesn’t look upset; more intrigued, really. 

“You got some good observational skills,” he mutters with a faint smile. 

“Does that mean I’m right?” You grin at his easy demeanor. 

Frank doesn’t say anything, just lifts his glass to his lips and drinks while keeping his eyes on you. 

You laugh through your nose. 

“I am, huh—? Alright. I won’t ask more— Although,” you say slowly as a thought crosses your mind. “Is Frank Castle your actual name?”

Frank snorts in amusement. 

“Yes.” 

“I guess I’ll just have to believe you,” you sigh dramatically, making Frank laugh loudly. 

“Let’s just say that my job is to protect others”, he confides, still chuckling from your antics. 

“As in bodyguard?” You had said that you would not ask, but since he had told you more, the question had come naturally. 

Frank shrugs and moves his head from side to side in a more or less motion. 

You look at Frank a little more closely, at his straight back and shoulders, the way his eyes keep skimming the room, and smile. Yeah, he does fit the part. Frank stares back, expression open, although he is not easy to read all the same. You find him entirely compelling. So much that you had not noticed, until now, that you have moved closer to each other during the conversation.

“So— You stayin’ long?” 

He clearly wants to change the subject, and you had told him that you would not pry, so you play along. 

“No— I’m flying home tomorrow. All done with business,” you smile, feeling the heat coming from him as he shifts closer yet. 

One side of Frank’s mouth tilts up in a faint smile, as he tips his head to one side. 

“Only pleasure left, then?” His voice is low and intimate. 

You quickly lick your lips at that. 

“I hope so,” you breathe, before your eyes widen minutely, and you look down with a small, shocked laugh at your words.

You don’t know what has gotten into you tonight. This isn’t your style. Flirting with men during your trips, yes, but not this obvious desire for more. Especially since you have only been talking for a few minutes. You don’t know what it is about Frank that makes you act like this. Something about him puts you at ease while simultaneously turning you on. And he is obviously interested too. Has been from the moment that he has really looked at you. Why shouldn’t you indulge yourself for once? 

“I think I should be going back to my room.” You stand, suddenly wishing you had not left your phone in your room, so your hands had something to do and would not show your nerves as they shake lightly. 

Frank blinks and leans away from you with a few short nods. You know what he is thinking, and he has it all wrong. 

“Yeah, sure. Uh— Have a good flight tomorrow.”

You neither answer nor move away from his side, only standing there, looking at him. Frank eventually stares at you once he has noticed that you have not left. He frowns slightly, confused, before he really locks eyes with you and his face morphs into surprised understanding. 

With his eyes still on you, he pulls out his wallet and leaves a few notes on the counter. Swallowing your nerves, you turn on your heels and head for the exit and straight for the elevators. You don’t check if Frank is following you, but you can hear sure footsteps a few paces behind you. You press the call button for the elevator and find Frank coming to stand next to you out of the corner of your eyes. It doesn’t take long for the elevator to arrive, the doors emitting the usual ding as they open. You step inside, with Frank following close by, and push the button for your floor. You stand against the mirrored side of the elevator, face pointed downwards, while your fingers move nervously at your side. 

“Hey,” Frank says softly, coming to stand in front of you. “You’re alright? If I got it wrong, I-”

“You didn’t. I—” You close your eyes and release a small, exasperated laugh, before finally meeting his eyes again. “It’s not something I ever do. I— I don't – I-”

“Hey, hey. It’s alright, Sweetheart,” Frank’s voice is soothing and low. He is still standing close but doesn’t touch you. “If you’ve changed your mind, that’s fine. It’s your choice. I can go back to-”

“No,” you say it softly but with conviction before leaning your head back against the mirror and laughing lightly again at how surreal this feels to you. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Frank is quiet for a beat, before he steps forward, right into your space but still not touching you anywhere. 

“Can I touch you?” He rumbles, getting you to look at him and into his warm but intense eyes. 

You exhale a harsh breath and make small but fervent nods of agreement. His eyes dip to your lips, then back up. 

“Need you to say it,” he rasps, his voice deepening. 

“Please?” You breathe, and even to you, the desperation sounds clear in your voice. 

Frank’s nostrils flare at that word, his eyes swallowed by black. 

“Not that. Not yet, at least— Yes or no, Sweetheart?” 

“Yes!” You say it with such want that it comes out as a hiss at the end. 

The elevator dings and the doors slide open, but Frank moves in anyway, paying them no mind, as a hand goes to your nape to pull you towards him and into a long kiss. Your knees nearly buckle at the sheer intensity of his kisses, making you stumble backwards. Frank follows and catches himself with his other hand against the mirror. He presses you against it, his whole body aligning with yours as he licks between your parted lips. You grip the shirt at his back, tilting your head this or that way to reciprocate with just as much ardor. 

You only snap out of it once the elevator doors close again, and you manage to slam your hand against the button to open them again before someone can summon the cart back down. Frank stops the kiss with a chuckle after noticing what you have done. Finding new confidence, you side step Frank and take hold of his hand to pull him out of the elevator and towards your room. You slip the key card out of your pants’ pocket and quickly slide it into the slot at the top of the handle to unlock the door. It clicks and you hurriedly push it open. Frank follows without a word and closes the door behind himself. You move back to him and shove him against the door, before taking his lips again. Frank makes a surprised noise at your actions, but it’s a pleasant surprise from how he groans into the kiss and lets your tongue glide against his. 

Undressing is a quick affair. You don’t have the patience to tease or be teased, and from how Frank’s hands pull and tug at your clothes to get to your skin, the feeling is quite mutual. You do take a moment to stare at him once he is topless, his jeans open and revealing dark boxer shorts. A small breath shudders out of you at what you see. You really did luck out with this one. You meet his eyes again, only to see him looking at you with a one-sided smile, letting you observe him at leisure. He lets his eyes travel appreciatively over you as well, dressed in only your underwear. You can feel your hard nipples pushing against the thin fabric of your bra, his gaze making you shiver. Glancing down at his thighs as he shuffles while he waits you out, your eyes take in the distinct line of his erection pressed against one side of his crotch, still covered by his jeans and boxers. You only realize that you have moved once your knees meet the carpeted floor and your hands have gone to the top of his pants. You had not even made any conscious decision about kneeling at his feet, pure lust making you act. Staring up at Frank, you find him staring right back, his lips parted and panting faintly. He seems as surprised as you to find you kneeling so boldly, so obviously hungry for more. With his eyes remaining on you, Frank pushes his jeans lower, his erection springing out of it and catching your immediate attention. You utter a sharp breath at the size of him, your jaw aching in delicious anticipation. You would feel embarrassed with how your mouth floods with saliva at the idea of using your mouth on Frank, or at the unbidden, high-pitched, keening sound that comes from you at the wave of want, but you cannot regret anything, as you see how Frank closes his eyes as if fighting to keep in control. 

“Please?”

Frank makes a small laugh that sounds between amazed and incredibly turned on after you have spoken. 

“Feels like I should be the one beggin’, Sweetheart.” 

Warming all the more from his words, you shuffle closer. You slowly curl your fingers around his length, feeling the heat and hardness under them, and lean in. You kiss the tip, just over the slit, before opening your mouth to let the flat of your tongue press under the head. Curling your tongue this time, you pull him in and suck gently over the tip. Frank exhales loudly as you moan around him, getting the first taste of him. It’s heady to get this kind of reaction from him right off the bat. You open your mouth again and let your tongue slide down the base of his cock, before moving back up and sucking the head back in. You keep it slow, fighting the urge to take him in as deeply as you can. For now at least. You crave more of the small, aborted movements that Frank makes, like he is also trying to hold back from thrusting forward. You end up being the one to give in first, the second that Frank’s fingers slide into the small hairs at the back of your skull. With your other hand on his hip, you moan, high, and relax your jaw, letting saliva coat Frank’s cock until he hits the back of your throat. He’s about to pull away as you choke a bit harder than expected, but you don’t let him, taking him right back in, humming and moaning repeatedly as you move back and forth over his length. Your mind is in a haze of lust, your eyes closed and your whole body only feeling, taking pleasure in tearing sounds from Frank; cut-off groans and grunts that only make you work harder. 

The hand in your hair tightens suddenly, Frank pulling you off him with a decisive growl. 

“Fuck, you’re somethin’ else,” he says in a rumbling tone, as he pulls you up until you are standing again. 

He doesn’t give you any room to reply as he kisses you deeply again, while walking you backwards until you encounter the foot end of the bed. Agile fingers unclasp your bra, the garment falling from your skin and leaving your breasts on display for Frank. He takes a step away from you and has you sitting on the bed before it is his turn to kneel between your parted legs. He leans into you as you cup his face and kiss him again, the position different now. Frank quickly makes his way down your neck with his mouth, while his hands slowly stroke down your back and over your sides, making you squirm a little. Frank chuckles and takes one nipple into his mouth, playfully pulling at it with his teeth. You whimper and clamp your legs together, only his body stopping you as you feel the heat getting stronger and stronger between your legs. Taking pity on your breasts, Frank moves lower again, leaving small licks and kisses over your skin to reach your underwear. His fingers hook into your panties, and you obligingly lift your hips to help him remove them. You are sitting, fully bared to him, while he still has his pants on. You fight the impulse to cover yourself, your legs still blocked by Frank’s presence between them. His hands are on your thighs now, his thumbs trailing slowly, teasingly over the inside of your thighs, the skin already feeling sensitive when he has barely touched you yet. His hands move to your hips and pull at you until you slide forward. Enough for him to— With a kiss to the inside of your thigh, Frank leans in, the bed at the perfect height that he does not have to really lower himself a lot to press his lips against your core. You watch him with wide eyes as he nuzzles against your mound, before the tip of his tongue strokes around your outer lips. Your mouth opens slightly as you observe him, let him tease you, only your trembling legs and your arms that hold you up behind you are proof of how much he affects you. You whimper as he gently suckles at your inner lips, avoiding your clit purposely. A moment later, his tongue passes through your folds and finally runs over your neglected clit. You jerk at the contact, your body so high-strung already that this simple tease is enough to get a strong reaction out of you. As if that had been what he had been hoping for, Frank folds his arms under your thighs and squeezes your hips. He keeps you in place as his ministrations gain intensity, his tongue pressing harder, his mouth sucking at your flesh. You curl over him, your hands in his hair as your hips undulate to get more. You can’t help yourself, your body moving on its own accord from Frank’s devoted mouth and the enthusiastic sounds coming from him. 

“F-Frank? I – Ah – Please. I-”

“Mhm?” Frank does not stop what he is doing, that sound the only hint that he is listening to you. 

“Iwannacomewithyouinsideme,” you get out in a rush, your voice catching on another moan as your body trembles from Frank’s tongue teasing its point around your clit. 

Frank stops, and you look down at him, meeting his dark gaze. Your whole face burns at the sight of Frank’s mouth, nose, and chin covered in your juices. He swipes a palm over his lower face as he straightens on his knees before he stands, his dick bobbing proudly at the motion. 

“Yeah?” He leans over you, getting you to instinctively lie down on the bed. 

“Uh huh.” 

Frank smiles faintly as he kisses you slowly, one hand holding him up at your side while the other returns between your legs. He presses two fingers inside you, making you moan into his mouth and squeeze his legs with yours that are still folded over the end of the bed. Frank gathers both of your knees over his arms, lifting your legs off the ground and pressing them up. Withdrawing to look at you, Frank puts one of his knees on the bed, while he keeps his balance with the other foot on the floor and guides himself inside you. Your eyes don’t waver from his, unable to tear your gaze away from his undivided attention as he fills you so completely. Your mouth falls open on a silent cry, that transforms into a low moan of deep pleasure as inch after inch strokes against your walls as his cock creates space for itself. You reflexively clench around him, making Frank buck his hips sharply forward and ripping an electrified gasp from you. Finding the right position, Frank starts moving, slowly at first, until you press your heels into the small of his back and he suddenly pistons forward, hard. Your head snaps back, and you cry out with each slap inside you. Your hands grip at his arms and shoulders as a wave of jumbled words comes out of the both of you; you beg for more, while Frank is telling you how good you feel. 

Your orgasm runs through you slowly, growing in strength as it goes from your center until it goes through your whole body, your toes tingling and curling with the force of it. You can feel yourself clenching around him repeatedly, which makes Frank curse at the back of his throat, and his hips snap shortly. He watches raptly as you fall apart underneath him, waiting until you are reaching the end of your climax for him to fall into his own. His head bows forward and his knee buckles a little as pleasure takes over his body. You watch him through heavy lidded eyes, your breath coming in quick pants. You let your fingers slide over his back and shoulders and bite your lip on a soft smile when he frowns with his eyes still closed and lets out a long breath through his nose. He slowly opens his eyes and catches your gaze after you have slid your fingers into the hair at his nape. He leans in without a word, grazing his lips against yours before his tongue teases at your upper lip. Frank lets go of your legs for you to wrap them loosely around the back of his thighs as you nibble at his tongue. He huffs out a small laugh at your action and presses his lips fully against your smiling ones. There is no urgency anymore, the exchange slow and sensual. It’s as Frank shifts and almost pulls out of you that you remember that your ass is hanging halfway over the end of the bed. You start giggling at your realization, and Frank draws back with a curious smile on his lips. 

“We didn't even fully make it on the bed.”

Frank blinks and lifts his eyes to the top of the bed. He hangs his head and chuckles warmly, then presses a few kisses into your jaw. 

“Got caught up in the moment, I guess.”

You hum contentedly and turn your head to the side to give Frank better access to your neck. You stay that way a while longer, anyway; you never feel cold with the warmth coming from Frank.

Ultimately, you do have to move, remembering your flight the next morning. 

“I’m going to take a quick shower.” You stand on wobbly legs and make your way to the bathroom. Frank only makes a sound indicating that he heard you. You stop at the door and bite your lip. “If you want to stay, you can take a shower too.” 

You say it as nonchalantly as possible, since you don’t want to pressure him into anything. You know that this is a one-time thing, but why not spend a little more time together. If he wants to.

“Sure.” There is no hesitation, not even a second of consideration. 

You smile and nod before vanishing in the bathroom. 

Once the two of you are done with the bathroom, Frank joins you in bed in only his boxers, while you wear an oversized tee shirt and a pair of panties. 

“You’re sure you don’t want to go to your room to get something?” 

“Nah, I’m good like that.” 

You had thought that it would feel awkward, but you settle comfortably next to each other, and you switch off the lights. Frank shifts next to you, and you feel him wrapping an arm around your waist as he moves to face your back. 

“That okay?” He whispers into your ear. 

Always so considerate. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, resting an arm over his. “At least I know I won’t be cold tonight.” You grin. 

Frank chuckles, moving the hair at your nape. With his heat at your back, you fall asleep in no time. 

You wake some time later, feeling slightly disoriented. There is a warm presence against you, and that is when you remember Frank. You smile softly to yourself, realizing that you have moved in your sleep since, you are now curled into Frank’s side, the man himself lying on his back with an arm outstretched and under your head. The darkness all around you tells you that it is still very early. A quick glance at your smartwatch confirms your assumptions; a few minutes past 3. Glad that you have another three hours to sleep, you borrow further into Frank’s side. His body radiates warmth and from this close, you can smell the shower gel as well as the last traces of his aftershave. A shiver travels down your back at the scent, a heat that has nothing to do with Frank’s body slowly curls in your belly. Your eyes open, and you can faintly make out the contours of Frank’s profile. You bite your lower lip as you think. Your face is only a few inches away from Frank’s. Would he mind if you—? He wanted to stay the night, so you guess that— Feeling emboldened by the darkness, you decide to make the most out of the night with Frank. Tentatively, you lean in and slide your lips against the side of Frank’s neck, until you reach the underside of his ear. There is a faint grunt that comes from Frank, but he otherwise neither moves nor says anything. This time, you graze your teeth over Frank’s ear lobe, before you gently suck on it. A deep breath is the only response you get to this, and you wonder if he is awake yet. Pressing your whole front against Frank’s side, you tickle your fingers over his stomach and follow the line of the elastic of his boxers. Your mouth continues to give attention to his ear. 

“You do realize that there will be consequences for what you’re doin’, right?” Frank suddenly rumbles, his voice rough from sleep and something more. 

You startle a bit at the sound of his voice, but chuckle a second later. 

“I sure hope so.” You nip at his ear lobe and slide a finger lower to find Frank already more than half hard. 

Frank growls and rolls onto his side to face you, forcing you to pull away from his ear. The hand from the arm you are lying on moves to your hair to fist in it; not enough to hurt, but there. You can feel his breath over your face, he is so close, yet he does not kiss you or move any closer. 

“Think you can take it? I don’t take kindly to being woken up and teased like that.” The tone is playful, you can tell that he is smirking, but what makes you say your next words is the hint of delicious danger in his voice. 

“Try me.” 

There is a dark chuckle right before Frank moves. Within a few, short seconds, you find yourself on your front, your face in the pillows and Frank straddling your legs. You barely have the time to gasp before Frank takes hold of your hips and pulls your ass up. Your panties get lowered to mid-thigh, keeping your legs together, while Frank pushes your tee shirt up and off. You raise onto your elbows and try to look behind you despite the almost full darkness, only the outlines of Frank’s body visible to you. Frank pulls you back towards his hips, the motion followed by the feeling of the blunt head of his cock parting your damp folds and pushing inside swiftly. 

“Oh fuck,” you cry, as your closed legs create an even tighter passage for him. 

Frank does not go easy on you, as warned, and fucks you quickly, his hips smacking loudly against your ass, his hands firm over your waist. Your elbows quiver, while moan after moan and small cries of pleasure are torn out of your mouth every time he dives back in. You love every second of it, and it comes as no surprise that you come explosively, his cock rubbing against your walls in the most perfect way, your closed legs making sure of that as well. Frank fucks you through your release, the thrusts slower, but he still goes as deep as possible until your upper body crumbles to the mattress as you come down again. You gasp after he suddenly pulls out, your walls now clenching around nothing, and see him moving to your side of the bed in the darkness. 

“Wanna feel your mouth again.” 

You are off the bed and with your knees on the floor in a matter of seconds after he has spoken. Your legs are still feeling like jello, meaning that this position is perfect for you, the eagerness to take him into your mouth again returning with full force. 

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” Frank groans once you have sucked the head between your lips. 

You whimper at the praise and pull off to lick your way around his whole length. You moan as you taste yourself, his whole cock slick with your essence, and press your thighs together at the phantom feeling of having him still deep inside you. Frank’s fingers move into your hair, while his hips start thrusting shallowly. You groan and stop moving, while you relax your jaw and make small, affirmative sounds. Frank understands your intentions just fine and starts thrusting in and out at a quicker pace. His hands hold your face in place, while you are holding yourself steady at his thighs. 

“Fuck, Sweetheart, I'm—”

You keep him close, wordlessly telling him that you want all of it. Frank’s hands tighten in your hair as he starts coming with a cut-off expletive, coating your tongue with his bittersweet release. 

You slump back against the bed, resting your back there for a moment as you catch your breath and swallow. Frank joins you and cups the sides of your face with his large palms. He does not say anything, yet the way he presses his lips against yours tells you that he more than enjoyed himself. As he helps you stand, you realize that your panties are still around your thighs. You huff out a small laugh and quickly pull them back in place, before going to blindly hunt for your tee shirt on the bed. You settle back on the bed like earlier, except that you are now facing him. 

“Told you I can take it,” you say with a wide grin as Frank puts a hand on your thigh. 

“You’re a goddamn menace once all the shyness has gone, you know that?” Frank snorts and squeezes your thigh. 

Your grin turns soft as you take in his words and think back to how nervous you had been a few hours earlier. Frank’s tone clearly implies that he likes it, as surprised as he might be about it. You are just as surprised as him, if you have to be honest. 

“Guess you make it easy.” You shrug with one shoulder. 

Frank does not reply, but his hand moves from your thigh and comes to slide the fingers over the side of your face and gently to the back of your neck. He keeps his hand there for a moment, the gesture affectionate and making you smile. 

“Get some rest, Sweetheart.” Frank leans in to press a soft kiss against your forehead. 

You hum in agreement, your stomach tightening at the kiss, and close your eyes. Sleep takes a little longer before it gets you this time, but you fall into a dreamless sleep once it does claim you. 

This time you wake because of the alarm on your phone going off. It lies on the bedside table where you had left it before heading into the bar. You quickly snatch it from the surface and stop the alarm. Frank groans next to you and turns to lie on his stomach. You stare at him for a few seconds before you force yourself to get up, not wanting to miss your flight. You freshen up in the bathroom and get ready in record time, glad that you had packed your suitcase before dinner, leaving you to only put back your pajamas and other necessities like a toothbrush and such. You look around the room to check if you have not forgotten anything. Your eyes return to the bed once you are sure that you have everything packed, and stare at Frank. He has not moved again after you had gotten up. You cannot help smiling to yourself at the thought that his tiredness might also be your fault and not only his job. You bite the inside of your cheek as you watch him. Should you wake him? For what? Yeah, you like him, but you know near to nothing about each other. What more is there to say? 

You finally decide to write him a quick note, not wanting to leave just like that. 

I had a wonderful night. Thank you. 

You scribble it on a square of paper with the logo of the hotel on it and leave it on the pillow you slept on. You get your carry-on suitcase and silently open the door, throwing Frank one last look before walking away. 

---

Back at work, you celebrate your success with your team. You open a bottle of overpriced champagne, but you had all worked your asses off, so this felt needed and deserved. Everyone has a lot of fun and that is what really matters. 

Thoughts of Frank come unbidden every now and then, mostly after you have gone home. However, you also remember his expression as he had realized that he knows nothing about the field you work in as you pull up a draft of a company logo that you had been working on before going on your business trip. You laugh to yourself at the memory. 

At times, you wonder if you should have asked for his number, only to shake your head at the thought; with his job, that is not the best idea, and he probably does not have the time for dates. A shame, in your opinion, but it isn’t like you can do anything about it anymore. Moving on is the best thing to do. 

---

Close to a month after you had met Frank, you are having a lazy weekend at home. You are sitting on your couch, legs crossed under you, and your laptop on your thighs. Graphic design might be part of your job, but it has started as a hobby and that is still something that you love to do whenever you are off work. Particularly now, as you are working on a fun birthday card for a close friend. You are clicking away on the mouse and adjusting the size of the text over the top of the card, when there is a knock at your apartment door. 

You turn your head and stare at the door with raised eyebrows, since you are not expecting anyone today. Putting the laptop beside you, you get up and head towards the entrance. You curiously look through the peephole and nearly do a double take after glimpsing who is on the other side of the door. You take a step back as you frown in confusion, before slowly opening. 

Frank’s head lifts from where he had been staring down, his eyes immediately catching yours. 

“Hey,” he says tentatively, looking sheepish. 

“Hi.” You blink rapidly a few times, still slightly shocked. Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you try to form words, but you have no idea where to start. “How – I – Did—”

“Sorry for showin’ up like that, I – I wasn’t sure if I should call first or— Now I think I should've, and— Yeah.”

You stare at him for a beat, before glancing behind you. 

“You want to come in?” You have a nosy neighbor, and you would prefer it if that conversation happens inside. 

Frank nods before he walks into the apartment after you have moved inside to let him in. He closes the door while you lean against the back of your couch, your hands holding you up on the headrest. You observe Frank, who glances around your place before he returns his eyes to you. 

“Nice place.”

“Thanks.” A beat of silence. “Did you look me up?” You question, completely baffled, but you cannot help smiling in amused astonishment and at Frank’s apparent uneasiness. 

Frank grimaces and scratches at the back of his neck as he nods sheepishly. 

“Shit, yeah, I know how it looks— I promise I don’t usually do shit like that. I just— You were gone when I woke up and— I dunno, I guess— I wanted to see you again and-”

“Frank, it’s fine. Well— I can’t say I’m not surprised, but— I guess it’s part of your job to do stuff like that?”

Frank visibly relaxes as he realizes that you are not mad at him. “Yeah,” he sighs. “At first I was just curious, y’know. Didn’t plan on just bargin’ in like that. Then I realized that we’re both from New York.”

Your eyebrows go up in surprise, and Frank nods in confirmation at your expression. 

“Hell’s Kitchen.” 

“Guess it really is a small world, huh?” 

Your neighborhood is only one down from Hell’s Kitchen. 

Frank nods before he looks down and frowns. 

“Listen, I know this is weird, and the night we spent together was meant to be just that, one night, so I can just leave and—” Frank trails off with a self-conscious shrug. 

You stare at him for a bit. You definitely do not want him to leave. As surprised and confused as you are that he wanted to see you again, you cannot lie about not having thought about him either. 

“Are you here for business or for pleasure?” You ask as you throw Frank a small, tender smile, echoing your first words to him. 

Frank’s head snaps up at your words, a pleased smile slowly forming on his face. He tentatively comes closer, as if checking if this is alright with you. You stay where you are and wait for him to reach you. He cups your face and strokes his thumbs over your cheekbones. 

“More than just pleasure,” he promises before he kisses you. 

Jon Bernthal bts of Those Who Wish Me Dead (2021)

august

a summer in dunbrook, part three

a/n: and to close it all off, let them have a horny camping trip. it's what they deserve.

summary: once you’d reached your spot, set up the tent and the stars were all twinkling in the sky, you and Frank savoured the mild summer evening sitting by the campfire where your fluffy ball of fur had also found a comfortable corner. 

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, sequel to lilac, smut, lumberjack AU, camping, roasting marshmallows, kissing, size kink, dirty talk, oral, manhandling, hair pulling, impact play, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (because this is just porn. no one is getting pregnant, I’m just craving the intimacy. let them be hoes and live out the fantasy)

word count: 3121

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“All I’m saying is that maybe we wait just one more day before we go home,” Frank said as he slammed the car door shut behind him. 

Readjusting your grip on Enzo’s leash, you blinked up at Frank as he tugged on the big backpack stuffed with supplies. 

“One more day?” you cocked a brow, “you just feel like camping one day more than we planned? Making the trip just that little bit longer so that you–, oh yeah, so that you miss the summer barbeque that you’ve been acting like a toddler about.” 

“I haven’t been–,” he scoffed, though swiftly dropped it with a heavy huff, “look, is it really that bad that I’d rather spend my time with you and Enzo than sit through hours of small talk?” he pleaded as you began to tread away from the parked vehicle, through the wilderness you’d arrived at. 

“No, but I don’t wanna miss it,” you said. Letting out a sigh, you took a step closer to him and caught his wide palm, “look, you don’t have to come along if it’s really that terrible,” your fingers offered his a squeeze to underline your statement, “I love you, I’m not gonna force you.”

Glancing over at you, he caught your eye and offered you the faintest of smiles, “thank you.”

“But,” you stretched out the vowel as if you were blowing a piece of bubble gum, “I’m just saying that you might regret it, you might miss some really fun shenanigans.” 

“Yeah,” he huffed in response, “I bet.”

“Hey, I know he didn’t last year, but I’m crossing my fingers that this year, Otto gets super drunk on Donna’s punch again and starts thinking he’s a drag queen. I know he’s the sheriff, but he can really get put on a good show when the mood strikes and he thinks he’s twenty again.” 

Once you’d reached your spot, set up the tent and the stars were all twinkling in the sky, you and Frank savoured the mild summer evening sitting by the campfire where your fluffy ball of fur had also found a comfortable corner. 

“Oh,” you then suddenly stirred from your trance-like state, ripping your stare away from the flames, “I almost forgot!”

Scrambling off the stout log you’d used to sit on, you ripped open the flap of the tent directly behind you and crawled inside. 

Glancing over his shoulder, half with an amused grin and half checking out your ass, Frank watched as you tore open the backpack and fished out an item. 

Hiding it behind your spine, you didn’t reveal it before you’d returned to your seat. 

“Tada!” you presented your contribution to the camping trip. 

“Marshmallows,” Frank couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. 

“You have to! You simply have to,” you declared as you ripped the plastic open. 

As you let yourself munch on one straight out of the bag, you watched as Frank picked up a few suitable twigs from the forest floor below, fished a swiss army knife out of his pocket and prepped them into the perfect utensils for the job.

The art of roasting marshmallows was something you’d perfected as a child. Getting them just right so that their outer shell got completely caramelised and golden brown, while the entire innards were rendered a sweet gooey mess. 

That fine skill was sadly not something Frank possessed, or perhaps cared about as deeply as you did. It nearly shocked you to horrors to watch him burn the little candy till it looked like a lump of coal, only to eat it without a care in the world as if it hadn’t been utterly ruined. 

So in order to prove to him just how wrong he was in his indifference, just how good they could be when done just right, you roasted him one to the utmost perfection.

“Alright,” you uttered when you retracted the stick from the flames. Carefully pulling it off the widdled twig, you held it out for him, though noted just before he enclosed his mouth around it, “careful, it’s hot.” 

As you studied his expression for traces of your victory, you popped your sticky fingers in your mouth, licking them clean one by one. 

Frank however also seemed to gaze back at you, though the heated stare that traced your innocent digits flew completely over your head as that wasn’t what you so intently were searching for. 

“So?” you impatiently poked in between cleaning the sugar off of your skin, “how is it?”

Swallowing the treat, he then hummed, “yeah, it’s good,” his eyes still glued to you. 

“Just good?” you cocked your head, “not amazing, incredible, your life will never be the same?” you listed off and then finally noticed just how intense his stare was, “what?” your voice seemed to shrink as you dropped the jest, “do I have some on my face?”

“No…” he shook his head lightly as one of your palms shot up to wipe the corner of your mouth. 

“Then what is it? Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I just love you, is all,” he breathed, “you’re very cute,” his soft smirk grew wider as he then added, “especially when you don’t realise the dirty things you do.”

A giggle then erupted from your lungs, “what did I do?” and continued to bubble out of you even as he began to lean in, “what?” 

But instead of filling you in, he simply pressed his lips to yours. 

It was soft at first, peppering you with pecks as your laughter slowly faded away. But then when your chuckling had come to a close and no longer vibrated against his lips, he let go of his gentleness and gave in to the desire that was about to burst. 

Slipping his tongue past your lips, a low groan flowed from him and melted against yours as they danced against one another. His broad palm only stayed on your cheek a moment longer before it soared down your frame, his other hand too joining in the exploration of your curves. 

You nearly couldn’t keep track of his touch as it wandered wildly, grabbing at every place that made you all tingly inside. Though, at one point when you thought you might fall off your makeshift seat, you actually did, or rather, Frank’s grasp slid down to your bottom and scooped you closer, so close in fact that you now found yourself half kneeling on the forest floor, between his thick thighs where he remained seated, and arching up to keep your lips still attached.

As one of his hands reconnected with your heated cheek, he withdrew ever so slightly as a groan left his throat, “god, I wanna fuck you…”

The gravel in his tone shot straight down between your legs and made you whimper, “please.”

After he seized your lips once more, the hand on the side of your face slid further up and disappeared into your hair. When his fist soon enclosed around the roots of your locks at the nape of your neck, a purr poured out of you, one he briefly paused the kiss to relish hearing. 

His other palm still grazed over your clothing, petting you so passionately that you expected on bated breath for him to rip your attire off. 

But he didn’t. 

Instead, right when he pinched your nipple through your shirt, his fingers didn’t move to pop open the row of buttons. 

Pulling back from the heated kiss, he maintained your face so close to his that his prominent nose pressed against your cheek. 

“Take this off,” he commanded in a gravelly tone, faintly gesturing to your shirt before his hand floated up to join his other if your hair. 

As you scrambled to do so, hazy with lust, you tried to tilt your chin to capture his lips, but the grip he had on you caused each of your attempts to fail as he denied you another taste. 

Once your button-up tumbled to the ground, he rose to his feet, lifting you with him, before one of his hands briefly let go to gesture to the shorts that hung from your hips, “these as well.”  

It wasn’t till they too fell to the dirt that Frank finally kissed you again, or to be more accurate, nearly devoured you. 

Your fingers tangled in his flannel for purchase as he scooped your body even closer to his. When you felt the palpable tent in his pants press up against your stomach, your right hand had a mind of its own and slid down to graze and teasingly rub him through his clothing. 

“Fuck…” he grunted, swiftly leaning into your touch. 

When his feet began to move, yours blindly began to shuffle as well. Each time you encountered even a tiny twig or something to make you slightly lose your balance, your grip tightened in his shirt and his hold on you swiftly shifted and clutched your waist, just so that in case you actually did stumble, he would be ready to sweep you off your feet. 

The flap to the tent was already open from when you grabbed the marshmallows, so nothing was there to hinder you when Frank pushed you inside. 

As both of you sank down to your knees on the sprawled-out sleeping bags, you began to tear at his clothes, an action that he didn’t protest in the slightest, only brought a hand back up to tangle itself in your locks. With the tent still open to the great outdoors, the crackling light from the campfire streamed in and illuminated both your forms. The warm glow licked across Frank’s skin as you revealed more and more of it. 

When you began to tuck at the last remaining item covering him up, you barely managed to hook a finger in his boxers before Frank’s body moved, laying down and bringing you with him. Chest pressed down against his, he manoeuvred your legs to be at either side of his hips. 

Capturing his lips in a kiss, you both sucked in a slow breath through your noses. As his palms slid up from the curve of your ass and over your waist, the pent-up tempo that had formed outside seemed to relax, your sloppy makeout morphing into soft and yearning pecks. 

His scruff tickled your palms as you clutched his jaw and withdrew just enough for you to catch your breath. Your nose nuzzled gently against his as you then begged in a foggy whisper, “can I please suck your cock?” 

Huffing out a smile, he found your eyes, “you wanna suck my cock?”

“Please.”

“Oh yeah? Well then go right ahead since you want it so badly.”

Mirroring his grin, you leaned in to press your lips to his one last time, “thank you,” before you slowly began to crawl further down. 

Holding his gaze as he propped himself up onto his elbows, you dipped down to plant a few kisses across his stomach before your nose nuzzled against the waistband of his underwear. When you were slotted between his parted legs, resting on your belly with your feet kicked up, his thumbs dipped into his boxers and pulled them off before you had the chance. 

His length sprung free of its binds, throbbing under your gaze and glistening with precum. Your eyes flickered up to meet his as you wrapped your fingers around his girth and a sharp intake of air filled Frank’s lungs. 

You only really had to tilt your head and stick out your tongue in order for it to glide across the bulbous head, as you already were at eye level. Glancing up to catch his gaze, you teasingly tapped the tip of him against your tongue, the corners of your mouth tipping upwards at his reaction. Dipping your head, you planted sloppy pecks down the side of him and when you came back up, you let your saliva dribble down his hardness, your fist swiftly swooping up to lavish its strokes.

When your lips finally enclosed around his girth, a deep rumble vibrated in his burly chest as he watched your slow movements intently, “fuck, I love you…” and his hand came down to stroke the side of your features as you silkily began to bob, “just like that, baby, yes,” drool gradually began to drip down as your lips stretched around his fat girth. When you then momentarily came up for air, Frank tilted his chin and said, “don’t forget the nuts, sweetheart,” and you swiftly bowed down to sloppily make out with his heavy sack, “give them some love as well.”

Then, just as you were about to return your attention to his painfully hard length, he manoeuvred your head for you and only relished in a few seconds of your butterfly-like pace before his hips twisted beneath you and bucked up into your efforts, fucking your little mouth till his cock plunged all the way down your throat. Spit bubbled up at the corners of your lips as his fingers curled around to hold your head in place just a moment longer, letting him fuck your throat till tears began to spew forth. You knew by the sensation that if you’d been lying on your back, the imprint of his cock would have been clear as day in the column of your throat, a familiar bulge that Frank would often let his fingers trace if he caught sight of it. 

Strings of slobber spiderwebbed from your swollen and gasping lips as he finally plucked you off of him. Sitting up more, he brought his face further down and pressed his mouth to yours, smothering the smile that appeared on your features as soon as you got up for air. 

As he impatiently ripped your bra off and you reached down to pull off your panties, they clung to your weepy cunt. Not being able to resist, yourself, you reached down and swept your fingers through your folds, your eyebrows crinkling up at the discovery of just how wet you’d gotten. 

Picking you up, Frank placed you back in his lap before his kisses faded and he layed back down. Raising yourself further up on your knees to hover above him, he grabbed a hold of the base of himself and briefly dragged the tip of him through your petals, flicking your clit before he brought a broad palm to your hip and helped you sink down. 

“Fucking hell…” you flutteringly cursed as you braced a hand on his chest, “oh, F-Frank…”

Your thighs trembled slightly on either side of him as you slowly eased your way down, the stretch of his fat cock proving just staggering as ever. 

As you gently began to roll your hips and find a calm pace that let you feel each and every single detail of him, your eyes fluttered shut as he stretched you out. Repeatedly raising your hips up till just the essence of him remained, you’d then sink back down, each time your slow pace nearly caused your pussy to clench and shrink back entirely so that it felt as if he’d have to split you open all over again. 

But just as you began to lose yourself to the heavenly sensation and let yourself slam back down with more ferocity, Frank’s cock slipped out of your creamy cunt completely. 

A whimper swiftly escaped you as your eyes blinked back open, but the man below you didn’t seem to move a muscle as he just uttered, “put it back in, baby,” which you swiftly reached down to do, moaning loudly as he slipped back into your warmth. His strong fingers dented the curve of your ass as you fulfilled his command, “there you go, good girl,” then swatted his wide palm against your backside to kickstart you back into action. 

Panting as you bounced like a little bunny, your hands crept up to squeeze your tits, pinching the nipples harshly as the melody of your efforts filled the tent. 

“That’s it, ride it,” he growled, offering your ass a few more slaps, “ride that fucking dick.”

Both of his hands then grabbed a hold of your bottom and surely bruised it as he aided your movements, though it didn’t take very long at all for him to take over completely and move your body atop of him, leaving you to just relax into his hold and sink deeper into the breathtaking sensation.

As he bounced you on his cock, he managed to nestle you down even further and grind his dick impossibly deep within you. 

Your head lulled back a bit as he rocked your form. Then, as you felt goosebumps tingle across your flesh and the intoxicating end near, you stopped fighting the urge and let your upper body crumble down against his. 

Fingers curling uselessly against his skin, you almost attempted to bury your face in his chest, right below his right shoulder. 

“Fucking hell,” your eyes rolled as you began to drool on his pec. 

Rolling his hips beneath you, he started to buck up into your weepy cunt before his palm landed a few tingling blows across your bottom. 

When your pussy finally clambered down around him, you nearly bit him as your features tensed up in a silent scream. His own demise soon arrived as well, especially as you throbbed and squeezed down around him so tightly that he nearly couldn’t move at all, just throw in the towel and let your cunt milk him dry. 

You almost fell asleep, laying there on his chest as it slowly rose and fell like a calm tide, Frank even assumed that you had until the moment that you murmured, “I’m so happy that you didn’t just keep driving…” 

“Uh…” his warm fingers drew slow patterns along your spine as he attempted to catch up, “when are you talking about?”

Faintly, you heard the tent rustle as Enzo sleepily stepped inside and plopped himself down on your tangled feet. 

“That you stopped back then on that day when my car broke down,” you uttered as your emotions began to fog up your voice, “thank you for stopping. If not, then we probably wouldn’t have ever met… god… I love you so much. I don’t even know how to–…” a heavy sigh flowed from you before you tilted your head and blinked up into his coffee eyes, tears glinting in your own, “I love you.”

With a molasses-like expression softening up his features, his fingers then tugged a strand of your hair out of your forehead before he replied, “I love you too, Y/n.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

the bodyguard

[status: in progress]

summary: after a series of terrorist attacks in new york, an article you wrote calling out the cowardice of the organization's leader causes you to become a target, and frank castle is assigned to be your bodyguard. the resurgence of former flames and shocking sinister revelations will test just how far frank is willing to go to protect you. divulgences of his mysterious and convoluted past will make you question just how much you can actually trust him. will frank be your savior? or the reason for your demise?

a/n: a HUGE thank you to my love @thyme-in-a-bubble for that incredibly breathtaking header. this series was inspired by the absolutely lovely @lowkeythor's genius request for a bodyguard!frank x reader fic. it is a slow burn-so get comfy. this is a punisher series friends, so there will be mentions of violence and gore, as well as other mature themes. (there will eventually be spiciness bc i can't resist) if you'd like to be added to the tag list for updates, please let me know!

»— anything marked with an astrik contains explicit content. minors dni.

»— all work is my own. please do not repost anywhere else without my consent.

chapter one: it's my job

chapter two: take the day off

chapter three: trouble

chapter four: it's like that

chapter five: conflict of interest

chapter six: invasion of privacy

chapter seven: checkmate

chapter eight: sorry

chapter nine: stakeout

chapter ten: pancakes

chapter eleven: we got a problem

chapter twelve: confession

chapter thirteen: desire*

chapter fourteen: i got you

chapter fifteen: teach me*

chapter sixteen: an adjustment

chapter seventeen: a favor

chapter eighteen: first date*

chapter nineteen: personal

chapter twenty: secrets

chapter twenty one: a little more time

chapter twenty two: fade to black

chapter twenty three: revelation

chapter twenty four: i love you

chapter twenty five: promotion

chapter twenty six [coming 9/20]

the bodyguard soundtrack

hardcore porn: massaging his scalp until he falls asleep in my arms

My favorite comedy show part 1

The crossover that I wasn’t expecting and that somehow happened

Commission for @/cinnamelldream from Insta , ty for letting me post this🤍

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dont repost! shares are appreciated!

closeup

Insta/Cara/X: kameyasart

тг канал: kameyasart

“My poor baby. My poor sweet little boy,” I lament out loud over a whole grown adult man who is not mine but is in fact a fictional character with fictional hurts. What matters is my feelings are real

Happy International Cat 🐈 Day to all who celebrate 🎉 😻

BTS from Lola Versus Video courtesy of @pajamasecrets

this is my fav meme format rn

tumblr premium yet we still can't follow people from a sideblog

karen page & frank castle as miscellaneous text posts i found on pinterest :)

this photo is so sydrichie to me like you don’t understand

the george lucas of our time.

YouTuber randomly captures Ebon Moss-Bachrach in the wild while documenting the Chicago coffee scene 👀 ☕️

When Skeen said "I don't have a brother" ????

Top ten anime bretayals

Ebon Moss-Bachrach as Arvel Skeen in Andor (2022-)