#also i know not everyone reads my dni and shit and i dont check every blog that follows me but if youre a z1onist please fuck off :)

[tunas-spriting]

hey, don't forget your daily click !

[pineappleparfaitie]

(Originally this was shorter but i got so mad while typing i just went on, the following is just some of my frustrations over the recent shit thats happened in this community)

The hypocrisy i have been seeing in the sfw vore community is fucking SAD

Im sorry i ranted abt this yesterday but it hasnt gotten better

Youre telling me we will yell st NSFW blogs who dont read our bios,dni's, pinned posts and tags and say how they are doing harm and they neee to read every little thing

But if a sfw vore blog reblogs NSFW and doesn't check all the biosxall the pinned posts,tags ect its a mistake?

You arent exposing minors into the NSFW space, instead you are exposing them to NSFW content

We will nag and complain and WHINE about gross nsfw stuff on our TL, how these blogs interact with us, vent about how uncomftrable it makes us but when someone we know does it its ok its not the worst thing!Not like minors still saw NSFW stuff!Not like someome actively has multiple friends that are minors and then puts these kids in danger by rebloging this content!Totally.

Stick to your morals, if it applies to 1 scenario it applies to everyone

And COMMUNICATION GUYS

Communication is a thing. DMS . Istg some people never watched stuff relating to the Art commentary community OR ANY COMMENTARY VIDEO cause youd THEN know how to compile evidence, how to focus less on personal gripe amd more on objective facts and know how tf to present shit.

But most importantly? KEEP SHIT PRIVATE. IF you confront the person on their poor behaviour privetly, and they still keep it up, THEN maybe shed light on it. But dont make stupidly formed "callouts" that make 0 sense unless you reread it. No one is going to listen to evidence if you cant even present it properly. And dont make claims of ableism with no elaboration other than a few personal views. And also dont say "this person said this about me" without showing screenshots.

Oh and while im at it-

Dont.Make.Threats and PETTY INSULTS to people. That shit is VILE unless the person is a convicted criminal and an actual monster making death threats,torture threats, eishes of harm sooo fucking casually is BEYOND INSAINE. And if these people are YOUR friends, you should tell them off not some people who hardly know them. Your friends behaviour will reflect poorly on you.

This shit has been so poorly handled by both sides ,1 cant present evidence or a callout (WHICH SHOULDNT HAVE EVEN HAPPENED) and the other refuses to acknowledge any wrong doing and believes they are inncoent and havent done harm and focus more on them than the minors they put st risk.

Oh and btw ya i was one of the people exposed to NSFW blogs and shit due to this whole confuckle. Harm and discomfort was done. IM an example.

I am more mad at the anon and disappointed at the other person at the end of this.

We know who this person is- most of the community does and WE know they meant no real harm. But other blogs dont know that and people have already been contacted by 18+ blogs telling them they arent safe and AT THIS POINT I DONT BLAME THEM BUT STILL ISNT FUN. ITS NOT FUN FOR HORNDOGS TO COME TO YA AND SAY WEIRD SHIT TO YA OR HOW YOU ARE DISGUSTING CAUSE SOMEONE YOU TRUSTED CANT CHECK DNI'S!

This is AGAIN being treated as drama. Always Drama. Not only is someones reputation being hurt and damaged because of poor wording,poor choices ect but minors are being harmed.

And I know im going to be told im blowing things out of proportion, im aware.

But if we throw such a fucking PISS FIT over NSFW blogs even LIKING our posts, why cant we criticise friends and moots who also put us in danger?

Intent is important to consider, but your action will ring louder than words.

Do better. Stop saying minors being harmer is drama. Stop saying were taking things too seriously, stop saying this shit.

GOD

I dont believe btw this person (one who has a callout made on them) is a bad person i would still love to be on good terms eith them and stay moots/friends but it becomes difficult when you see how they react to putting you at risk.

[grippingbeskar]

not a bad day

part 1 (read part 2 here)

boxing trainer!frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 6.6k

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI (oral f receiving, mxf sexual intercourse, pain kink, mentions of bruising/description of injury) fighting, swearing

a/n: i cannot get frank out of my head and the idea of him helping u at the gym just yeah this has very little plot and is just everyones horny okay! also might make a part two of this let me know if u want that k bye luv u stay safe.

p.s thank you for all the love on the last fic!! so glad ppl enjoyed it and it inspired me to write a couple more ideas for frank so stay tuned! 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You hate today. Of all the very bad, no good shitty days you’ve had, today takes the cake. Which is why you are currently hitting the absolute crap out of the poor punching bag in the back corner of the gym, hoping to get rid of even a small part of that bubbling anger that is threatening to explode.

First, your car broke down. Fine, things happen, your cars a piece of shit anyways. So you take the bus, only its raining and you didn’t bring an umbrella, so you run down the street in the pouring rain, chasing the only bus that would get you to work on time, only for the driver to look straight at you in the rear view mirror, arms flailing like a mad woman, and drive off, making sure to rev the wheels in the puddle next to you, flicking dirt and loose concrete all over your pale yellow dress.

Then, when you finally trudge into your office building, half an hour late and soaking wet, you see your boss. Immediately he yaps your ear off about the story your writing, and how it needs to be finished by Friday, as if you haven't been working here for years and dont know the cut off date for weekly run. You placate him, determined not to let your day be ruined at nine in the morning, when you see a team of exterminators in your office, pulling years worth of sealed documents and important files out of boxes and throwing them in the bin. It was then your boss finally decided to get to his point, saying the room was found to have an entire clan of small mice living in its walls, and they needed to gas the floor.

So, you try to save all your important work and cart it three floors down, only to find every room taken, and you end up spending your day on the floor of a supply closet, fanning out the poison stained files from your first story at New York Bulletin and definitely inhaling dangerous chemicals. It was about halfway into your day, when attempting to seperate two documents that were stuck together by liquid, that you gave up on your optimism, when you were interrupted by a phone call from your landlord telling you your apartment has flooded, and while your things were mostly okay, you would have to rent a hotel room for the next two weeks, and he ‘wouldn't be able to swing’ the cost of it as the flooding ‘wasn't technically under his jurisdiction’. You didn’t even bother going home to check your place, getting off the bus two stops early and stomping straight into the gym, seemingly the only place you can find any peace these days.

That was mainly thanks to your trainer and new found boxing partner, Frank. He was new around town, you only met him a couple of weeks ago. You dont know much about him other than he has a mean swing and is an ex marine, but he’s been helping you perfect your form for free, so you dont ask a lot of questions. Your gym is big, big enough to have an entire upper floor just for boxing and MMA training, the lower levels full of weights and machines. Usually you do a bit of cardio or strength before coming up to practise with Frank, but today you just needed to hit something, slipping in your headphones and whacking the bag as hard as you can. Your musics blaring and you dont even hear him come up behind you, and you yelp slightly when a strong hand rests on your bent elbow, stopping it mid swing. With your other hand you yank the string on your headphones, the wires falling to the ground in front of you. 

“You still gotta work on those chicken arms. Elbows in.” His body is just far back enough to not press against you, and you find yourself wanting to step into him, just to feel how warm his body would feel against yours. Yes, you had a crush on him, but it was just that. A crush. You can handle yourself. His hand slides up to your bicep and presses lightly, your arm coming down in the correct form. His fingers are rough and calloused, but somehow feel smooth against your skin, trailing a light line of heat where they touched. Okay, maybe you can’t handle yourself.

Frank, on the other hand, hasn’t been in control for weeks. Ever since that first day, him wandering in to the first gym he’d seen, his apartment being too small for him to get a proper workout in, he saw you beating the shit out of this very punching bag, and he doesn’t remember a time he saw anything sexier. You had pretty poor form, but the power was there, and it was practically calling his name. He didn’t even pick up a weight, shooting straight up the stairs and standing behind the bag you were hitting, absorbing your punch so the bag didn’t move. It came off as sweet, maybe even thoughtful, but all Frank was thinking was how fucking hot it would be for you to actually hit him, and every punch you threw at the bag made his pants a little tighter.

He was on to you then, striking up a conversation about how to get more power behind yourself, and eventually, after learning your schedule by coming to the gym every day around the same time, it became habit. If he didn’t seek you out, you started to come to him, seeing you strut up behind him in the mirror as he lifted weights or hold down on his ankles as he was doing pull ups. His training used to be business only, it was almost in his job description to be fit, but you made it fun, and he found himself looking forward to every session.

“Im not exactly in the mood for a tutoring session, Castle.” You bit back, taking a couple more swings, but taking his advice and keeping your elbows in.

“But you felt the difference in those ones, didn’t you?” He comes around to face you, leaning on the wall in the corner behind the bag. You huff and continue hitting, the wraps on your knuckles beginning to come loose. “Bad day?”

“You dont know the half of it.” He just nods and his head tilts slightly, watching the way your abs tense with every punch, the small gap of skin between your sports bra and high waisted tights like a pinch of heaven to him. Your body is thrown behind every swing, and he smiles a little, unable to help how proud of your improvement he is, knowing you take on what he teaches. He can see the difference in just a couple weeks, the bag no longer a suitable opponent for your skill level.

“Wanna take it out on me?” Frank says lowly from behind the bag, and you can’t see his face when he says it, the blurred black of the swinging bag blocking him. You stop and search for his gaze, finding it on you as you stop the bag in the air and set it straight.

“What?” He nods his head, motioning behind you.

“In the ring.” Holy shit. You need to calm down. Your mind went a thousand different places, but for some reason the giant roped off ring in the room behind you wasn’t one of them. You’ve only been in there a couple times, usually its closed off for the pros to train in, or someone has already claimed it, the locks only accessible from the inside once you enter. If its unlocked, however, anyone can claim it until the next hour, and looking up, the clock just ticked over to eight.

“Yeah. Okay.” Your anger has diminished only slightly at the sight of Franks sweaty abdomen, the image certainly softening you as he leads you into the room, flicking on the lights and locking the door behind you. “I dont even think Ive been in here before. Have you?”

“Couple a’ times. Gotta show the boys how its done, right?” You roll your eyes and he laughs, the sound echoing around the cement room.

“This isn't fair. You know I dont box.” You swing your body under the ropes and when you straighten, Frank is considerably closer than you thought he would be. He reaches out a hand and takes your own in his, tightening the wraps around them. Its always stronger when he does them for you.

“Dont worry, sweetheart. I’ll go easy on you.” That fucking name. He’s called you that a couple of times, when he’s teasing you, but every time your cheeks flush and you have to avoid his gaze. Even through your pent up anger from today, the name slips through and nestles straight in your stomach, waking dormant butterflies and sending them crazy. You just shake your head and step back, remembering the stance he taught you. Legs shoulder width apart, right foot back, heel off the ground slightly. You bend your knees a little and take a few steps in either direction, testing your stability and giving yourself time to collect your scattered brain, looking up at him.

“Good. Now seriously, Im not going to hit you.” You open your mouth to say something, but he raises one finger, and you huff before letting him continue. “Ill tap you if your hands drop, like this.” He puts his fists up, and with the left hand that hangs in front of his face, he opens it and pushes your head in the opposite direction. Its not hard, barely a percent of his strength. “That okay?”

“Its annoying. But fine.” It was annoying, and you make a point to keep your hands up as he explains so he doesn't do it again. “Should I do the same?” You dont want to hit him, although you would be surprised if you were even able to land a punch, let alone do any real damage, but you still dont want to try. He just smiles at you from behind his fists.

“You hit me as hard as you can.” Your eyes go wide and you begin to protest.

“Frank you-”

“Trust me. I can take it.”

“But I-”

“I can take it. Hit me.” He grits out, and he almost sounds gravelly. You shrug your shoulders and he nods, both of you moving to the right and you punch first, aiming a hit on his ribcage. He blocks it easily, and you go to adjust, but his hand reaches up and pushes your face in the opposite direction, making you stumble. You look up at him, deadpanning.

“Frank.”

“You hit like shit, and you move too slow. C’mon.” Shaking it off you fix yourself in front of him again, moving to the left this time. The anger you felt at your shitty day simmers low in your gut, at least thats what you think it is, and you take a step into him and land a punch in the middle of his chest. He doesn't move, doesn't flinch, your pretty sure he wasn’t breathing. “What was that?”

“A punch?” You screw your eyebrows together and stand up straight, dropping your hands.

“No it wasn’t. It was shit; again.” He hasn’t dropped his stance and you let out a sigh. Your not going to try and hit him like that, no matter how angry at the world you are, you would never take that out on him.

“Frank, even if your being all macho about this, Im not going to try and hit you. I’ll hurt you.” Your hand goes to your hip.

“You could never hurt me.” He says, his voice not faltering for a second. You dont know why you interpret it any other way than a teasing play on your ability to box, but it makes your heart stutter in your chest. He obviously wants this, and as nervous as it makes you, you kind of want to see if you can land an actual hit on this guy, at the very least to get your hands on his sculpted chest one way or the other. “Hit. Me.”

“Okay. You have to tell me if I hurt you though, okay?” You get back into position, looking down at your feet to make sure you have your width right.

“You suggestin’ we need a safe word, sweetheart?” Your jaw drops open slightly and a scoff comes out. He was going to send you into cardiac arrest.

“Lets fight then, big guy.” You both move to the right again, and Frank moves fast, getting around behind you, leaving you a little off guard as you turn. His hand comes up and pushes your face. You huff.

“Focus.” Blowing a hair out of your face, you are already sweating, your previous workout coming at you like a ton of bricks. He moves again and you see your chance, getting low and landing a strong punch into his abdomen, using your body to gain power this time. You dont go full out, but you land it with enough strength you hear a little wind come out of him. Satisfied, you come straight back up, keeping your hands in front of you. “Good. Again.”

You step into him and uppercut into his stomach, stepping back quickly. You look down for a split second to adjust your feet but his hand is already there, shoving you and you realise you dropped your hands. Its pissing you off faster than it should, and if you just kept your damn hands up you wouldn't have to worry, more angry at yourself than him.

“Stop that.” You growl at him and move to the left.

“Stop lettin’ me.” Asshole.

Frank watches in awe from behind his fists at that little spark that comes across your gaze, and he knows he’s got you. It was a little game at first, but now he’s had a taste of that anger, a taste of that sweet pain that comes with the force of you against him, and he knows he sick for craving more. You dont hesitate this time as you ram your fist into his ribs, the hardest you’ve hit him yet. It knocks some of the wind out of him, and he sucks in a breath. Damn, that was fucking hard. Almost as hard at the erection he’s currently sporting, thanking all the gods listening that he decided to wear track pants over his gym shorts, at least they cover up his dignity a little. He wants all of your anger, all that rage you buried into the bag outside the ring, so as soon as he sees your hands drop just a little, he shoves your face again, a little harder.

“Frank! My fucking hands were up.” You grumble at him, planning your next move. You were pissed off now, and if Frank wanted to fuck with you, you were going to fuck with him right back. 

“If they were up I wouldn’t have got you. Again.” His voice sounds dry and low, and if you weren't so riled up you would think it was sexy. No, you do think its sexy, but you cant think about it right now. You step left and hit him again, in the same spot in his ribs. His hand comes up to the left of your face and you block, only to feel him push you on the right.

You say nothing, and instead physically wind up and let your right fist crash into the same spot for a third time. You put all your weight behind it, getting low and swivelling your body, feeling every muscle tense as you collied with his ribcage. He groans and his fists drop, leaning back into the ropes you now realise you backed him into. 

Immediately you regret it. You knew you shouldn't have even gotten in the ring if your head wasn’t on straight, but Frank is so easy to listen to you, and he looked so damn good. Instantly you dont feel angry anymore, the relief replaced by guilt as you look at him, one hand holding his rib and the other leaning on the rope, head hung low.

You move to him, cupping his face in your hands and bringing his gaze to you. Your face is screwed up with worry and his eyes are almost glazed over.

“Frank! Jesus, are you okay? Im so sorry I dont even know-”

“That was fuckin’ perfect. Perfect.” He smiles up at you like some kind of sadist and the hand holding his rib comes to your hip, pulling you closer so that you can feel the sweat of his abdomen against the small part of skin between your bra and tights.

“Are you okay?” You whisper. You dont know why you do, but somehow the proximity you both share makes you feel the need to be quiet, any noise may set this moment alight, and you dont want to be anywhere but pressed against Franks bare chest, panting each others air.

“Never better.” He steps into you, forcing you to take a step back. Then two. You can only focus on the sound of his slightly strained breath in your ear and your hands leave his face, coming to rest on his chest as you reach the centre of the ring. “Again.” You step back and you dont miss the twang of disappointment when his hand comes off your hip.

“No. Im not hitting you again.”

“What makes you think you can, huh? Think I wasn’t going easy on ya?” You know he’s baiting you, and you cant figure out why. Maybe he just wants to piss you off, or maybe he thinks you fight better when your angry, but either way its working and you put your hands up. “Theres my girl.” His slight accent and the way his smile curls up the side of his face reminds you that now you dont feel angry, you start to feel... other things. You step back again, distancing yourself.

You swing a hook with your left hand and he moves just out of reach. You hear him laugh a little, so you swing again, at his head this time. You connect with the arm that comes up to block, and you can feel the strength of his arm under your knuckles. 

“So close.” He says as you shuffle forward, and you have to grind your teeth to keep composure. You dont know what it is about him, but everything he does right now is making the ball of tension in your stomach coil tighter and tighter. He’s always been able to elicit some kind of reaction from you, but its always been in a public place, other eyes on you preventing you from thinking too much about the way he looks at you, his eyes analysing your every move as you practise a new block. Or how hard and perfect his body feels against you as he teaches you a new take down, warm skin burning you in his hold. You put all of your brain power into your next moves, trying to think of literally anything else as he easily evades you.

Frank doesn’t know why he does it, and it takes all of his self control to move out of the way of your hits, his mind telling him to just let you hit him every time so he could feel you that close again. Backed up against the ropes, your hands on his face, when he finally wrapped his hand around the hip that had been the object of his fucking imagination for weeks. He’s going insane, that must be the reason he can’t form a coherent thought as you step to him, matching every move he makes. Your good, he knows that because he taught you, and every time you miss he can tell you only get more aggressive, still in control but you come at him with more fire, and the anticipation of when you inevitably collied with him is almost better than the actual hit. Frank is distracted by you, all of you moving and flexing in front of him, attention devoted to him, that when you connect a right jab to his chest, it knocks him back. 

This time you dont check on him, you just come again, landing a left hook to his side. He doesn’t have time to recover and you hit him again, another right jab. He’s backed into a corner and you punch again, but his right arm grabs your wrist, yanking you against him. You can feel his heartbeat in your own chest, and he’s breathing hard, nearly as wiped out as you. 

“That all you got?” he purrs in your ear, and he swears he can see the final straw break. You are faster than he thought, and using the hold he has on your wrist you swing him over your shoulder. Using his own strength against him, just like he taught you, you flip him over and he lands on his back, hitting the matt with a hard whack. 

Your on him simultaneously, both legs straddling either side of his ribcage, and your forearm comes down on his chest, using all your strength to hold him down. The only sounds that fill the empty room is the quiet ticking of the clock and Frank underneath you, wheezing a little under your body.

“You gonna tap out, Castle?” Hell yeah you are cocky, the giant mass of man underneath you making you feel a lot more accomplished than you thought. You don’t care that he was probably letting you throw him down, you still did it without any help, only ever completing the move  before when Frank coached you through it. He just looks up at you and smiles. “What?”

“I taught you that.” He says, and you take your forearm off him and sit back on his abs, laughing. When you sit back both of his hands come up and rest on your thighs. You stop laughing and look down at him, your ponytail falling to the side of your face.

Frank thinks you look like some kind of angel. Your hair is all frayed and pulled out in places and it frames your face so perfect, and theres a light above your head that sits directly above you, shining down and lighting you up, every bead of sweat glistening on your body, and his eyes catch on one that slides down the valley of your chest, disappearing under the tight confines of your bra. He tightens the grip on your thighs and he feels you shift on top of him, and he nearly groans at the sensation.

“Why were you so angry today?” Frank breaks the silence under you, and yo dont know why you haven’t gotten up yet, but his hands wrap  around your thighs, almost taking up the entire space of them.

“Just a really bad day. My boss is a dick and my office building has rats. Oh! My car broke down and I was late, too. And it was raining. ” You could feel the tension falling from your shoulders as you sat on top of Frank and told him about your day, somehow never feeling more natural. “Dont even get me started on my apartment. Probably have nothing left.”

“You got robbed?” Frank tenses under you and you shake your head and put a hand on his chest.

“No. Flooded, though. Cant stay there for two weeks. I came straight here.” You shake your head thinking about how ridiculous your situation is. 

“No wonder you hit me so hard.” He laughs under you and you resist the urge to swat him.

“Shut up. You asked for it.”

“Yeah, I did.” His hand slides up your thigh just an inch and the muscles under them tense at his touch. You swallow hard. You cant read his expression, but he just stares at you as he moves his hands another inch higher. “You alright?” He asks, not knowing if he’s talking about your apartment or his wandering hands, but it doesn’t matter because the answer is a desperate yes that you somehow manage to squeak out. He smiles again, that half smirk thing he does when you finally figure out whatever he is teaching you, and your palms start to get sweaty.

“M’ fine.” The ticking of the clock reminds you that you still have 20 minutes of uninterrupted time alone with him, and it suddenly doesn’t feel long enough.

“You dont look fine.”

“I dont?” He shakes his head and his fingers splay across you, squeezing lightly. It feels good on your tight muscles and you drop the last of your weight on top on him, relaxing.

“You seem strung out. Need to relax.” He’s no longer looking at you, murmuring his words under his breath and his eyes roam your body, taking in every minuscule detail that rests on top of him.

“I thought thats why we were fighting?” Your voice is small, and his fingers tighten and relax on your thigh, massaging.

“We were fighting cause you were damn pissed. You still feelin’ angry?” You shake your head, unable to speak. “Good. Just need ya to relax for me now, okay?” Now you nod. 

Frank is straining to control himself, your obedient nods and the way you rest against him, full body weight sinking into him has his cock tenting his pants. He’s damn happy you are facing him right now or you would see just how much you effect him, because he wants this to be about you. As much as he needs you, he can wait a little longer if it means he gets to see you come apart while he watches. Besides, this will be indulging him just as much as you. 

He cant count how many times he’s dreamed of this, of you using him to get your anger out, get rid of all your frustrations. Every day in the gym, no matter if your high off a great day at work or dead tired, you use him as your outlet, and he will take anything and everything you give him, but here, with you on top of him, he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t imagined how you would use him like this. He wanted to drown in you, wanted you to take all that natural dominance you exude in training and suffocate him with it, letting you use him in an entirely new way. The thought of tasting you makes his mouth water, and his hands travel to your hips, squeezing gently.

You were out of breath and dizzy, and the way he held you made you feel things you haven’t felt in years. The past few weeks have been a silent torture, having his body so close but somehow not close enough. His fingers lightly brush the sliver of skin above your tights and slip just below the hem, and you sigh.

“These expensive?” He plays with the hem and you shake your head, the tights being one of the few spare pairs you keep in your locker here for when you can’t be bothered to go home and change first. “Good.” The rip of fabric makes you flinch slightly as he tears the tights off your body, cool air kissing your bare skin, the tattered remains falling to the sides. You are left sitting above him, only in your sports bra and white underwear, thankful you wore something sort of cute today. Your jaw hangs open at his raw strength and it only swirls that tight ball of need in your lower stomach tighter, and the breeze coming from one of the windows reminds you how wet you are and you shiver.

“Frank, w-what are... Jesus. What are you doing?” You cant focus and his hands slide along your skin, coming up and over your hips, fingertips stopping just under your bra and sliding back down, sparks flying everywhere.

“Gonna help you relax. That okay?” 

“Y-yes. Yes.” You are nodding frantically and his hands stop on your hips, and pull you forward, your legs shuffling up his body. You pick up on what he’s doing as he stops you just under his chin, the only thing stopping him from touching you the weight you support in your legs.

“Good girl. Gonna reward you for being so good.” One hand hooks underneath your underwear, and he trails a light line over your centre, making you shudder his name. “You this fuckin’ wet for me already?” He trails is hand over your clit again, and takes the same finger and slides it inside you once, curling and hitting that exact right spot. You moan and he slips out of you, bringing the finger coated with your taste and wrapping his mouth over it, and his eyes flutter closed.

Frank nearly comes in his pants at the taste of you. You are sweet and perfect, more incredible than he could have ever imagined. Your face when he slid into you is etched into his brain forever, and there will never be a day that it doesn’t make him rock fucking hard. The way you react to him makes him think you’ve wanted this just as long as he has, and he doesn’t waste any more time indulging either of your fantasies. He rips your underwear off too, shoving the frayed fabric into the pocket of his track pants. He kisses you once, right where you need him to, both strong hands coming to your bare ass, forcing you down on him. You strain only slightly, not wanting to put your whole weight on him, and he growls under neath you.

“Thought you were gonna be good for me; let me help you.” He kisses your inner thigh and looks up at you.

“I am! But I-”

“Sit.” He’s still staring at you, peppering soft kisses up and down where ever he can reach on your thighs. You trust him, and given what you were just doing, you know he would tell you if there was something he couldn’t handle.

“Okay, just throw me off or something if you need to, please okay?” Your eyes aren’t focusing on anything but him, and you see him smirk and roll his eyes.

“Yeah. Sure. Now c’mere. Lemme give you what you need.” You shuffle a little more and let your legs relax, and he dives into you. One hand remains on your hip while the other slides inside you, two fingers gently caressing that growing need in your stomach. His tongue works you expertly, and your back arches as both your hands come down to grab his hair, pulling and twisting in pleasure.

“Oh fuck! Frankfrankfrankplease!” You dont know what your asking for, just that he is the only one that can give it to you, your hips grinding against his face, feeling his nose lightly brush your clit with each movement.

“That’s is baby. Fuckin’ take it.” He says the words into you and you can feel the heat of his breath on your core. You bite your lip and the hand not in his hair finds the one of his on your hips, grabbing it desperately. He lets go of you and your fingers intertwine, you leaning forward over him unable to hold up your bodyweight. His hand doesn't leave yours and you hold onto him tightly, your hips still moving against his face.

Frank is surrounded by you. Your thighs squeeze his head and keep him perfectly in place between you, and the way you lean over him slightly means he has the perfect view of your face as he fucks you with his tongue and fingers. You move against him without him having to tell you, your natural desires taking over the worry of hurting him. He loves to watch you lose control, and the sweet sounds mixed with his name that leave your mouth make him moan against you.

“God, you taste so fuckin’ sweet. You like usin’ me like this, huh sweetheart?” You nod, or you think you do, but the hand that was inside you comes around the back and grips your ass, tight. “Need to hear it.” He groans into you as his tongue replaces his fingers.

“You - Yes, Frank. Fuck, it feels so good.” You breath and your whole body feels like its on fire, pleasure building in every part of you. You aren’t going to last much longer, his mouth working furiously on you as his hand comes back to join it.

“Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.” His praise is all you want, all you’ll ever need, and you move your hips, pull his hair, try to figure out whatever it is that he wants. “You think you can come for me?” Your eyes are squeezed shut and you nod, all he needs to do is ask you to do it and you will. He has you wrapped around his fingers, literally.

Frank never wants this to end, but somehow he retains the slightest bit of composure to remember the time limit on the gym room only gives him another couple of minutes in paradise. He could spend an eternity between your legs, and he would when he got you home, but right now he needed you to come just as bad as you did. He kept fucking you with his fingers, and when ever he spoke his thumb replaced his mouth, knowing it would ultimately be his words that pushed you over. He could tell you loved his mouth, both on you and speaking all your dirty thoughts back to you, and he loved that it was him and only him you responded to like that.

“Alright baby, I need you to come for me, okay?” You were a whimpering mess above him, hips moving frantically and legs shaking. Your muscles were like jelly and he could feel you tighten around him. You babble out a few words and he thinks he hears his name in between them, and he smiles up at you as your eyes slowly open.

“I know your s’close. Can feel it. Relax for me, okay?” You choke out a moan and pull his hair, tighter than you had before, and he muffles his moan by putting his mouth back on you, wanting to taste you when you finish. 

“Fucking hell! Frank!” You scream his name and your body jerks on top of him as you finally find your orgasm, Franks fingers repeatedly and brutally fucking you through it. His mouth takes in everything you give it, slurping up any evidence of your pleasure, making the most vulgar sounds that only make you cum harder. Your entire head feels fuzzy and your lungs have no air, Franks hands leaving you only to slide into his own mouth, cleaning them off before rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. 

Your hands are still intertwined on your other side and you sit back, your back leaning against his two strong legs that have bent up to create a rest. He sits up, chasing you and kisses your neck lightly.

“You feelin’ better, baby?” You can’t speak, mind still numb, but you nod and he presses a soft kiss to your lips, making your eyes shoot open.

“That was our first kiss.” You stutter, and he just kisses you again, deeper this time.

He whispers in your ear, and you giggle in his hold. “We gotta get out of here, though.” You rest your forehead against his.

“Huh?”

“Thirty seconds and the doors gonna open.” You whip your head around and see the clock reading eight fifty nine. Shit!

“Frank. My tights.” You didn’t even think of it, but you look down at how very naked you were from the waist down, and he picks you up, standing with you in his arms, only setting you down when he’s sure you have found your own footing. He slides down his track pants. You cant help but stare and watch, and you see the obvious outline of his very hard erection, him attempting to tuck it into the waist band on his now exposed gym shorts.

“Put these on. We can pick up your clothes on the way to mine.” In shock, you take the track pants and slide them on, having to use the hair tie that was holding your hair up to tie the side of them so they dont fall off your waist. Frank stuffs the remains of your tights into his gym bag and comes back to you, planting a kiss on your lips as the doors open, him pulling away just in time to be missed by the entering crowd.

“Hey Castle! You guys finished up in here? Need to get in some practise before next weekend.” You knew the voice talking, you recognised him as one of the faces on the poster out the front, advertising for the gyms next fight night. 

“Yeah, we’re good. Just practising.” He looks back at you and smiles, swinging his body under the rope and you realise you haven’t moved, quickly following him.

“Ah, you’re leaving? Could really use a sparring partner.” The guy says, and your eyes widen. Frank trains with this guy? A whole new wave of desire flushes your cheeks and you look up at him, a slight fear that he would take him up on the offer.

“Yeah, gotta get my girl home.” He pulls you closer to him, swinging an arm around you as you head towards the door, uttering a quick goodbye to the waving fighter you leave behind. You hear the door click lock behind you and you descend the stairs, Frank leading you towards his car.

“Your girl?” You can’t help it, the way your heart nearly jumped out of your mouth when he said it. Did he think of you like that?

“Yeah. My girl. That okay?”

“Fine with me.” A giant grin betrays your attempt to stay casual and he opens the door for you, laughing. Anticipation begins to build as soon as he closes the door, unsure of what the next few hours will hold. He opens the drivers side door and starts the car, punching in your address and the car knows it already from the multiple times he’s driven you home.

“You think you’ll have enough clothes for two weeks or do we gotta get some?” Franks question confuses you for a moment, and then you nearly choke on your inhale in realisation.

“Oh, you so dont have to let me stay with you. Seriously, I’ll just get a hotel.” 

“C’mon, cant have my girl staying in a hotel.” That same goofy grin returns to your face, and his hand comes to rest on your inner thigh. “Besides, we got a lot of work to do, and I dont wanna be disturbed this time.” You shiver, your imagination running wild.

Sitiing back in the seat with Franks hand running up and down your leg, you cant believe you thought anything negative about today, and sliding your hands in the pockets of Franks track pants, feeling the remains of your torn underwear, you think you’ll mark this as one of your best days yet.