#jon bernthal characters

[chellestrash]

Out of sight

Shane Walsh x F!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: explicit content, explicit language, teasing, banter, unprotected sex, age gap

summary: Shane stays over at your house when your parents leave, we all know how it’ll end.

a/n: thank you to my sweet @chelseasdagger for proofreading this!

“Right, we won’t be long.”

You turn and give your mom a small smile from where you're sitting on the living room couch, in front of the TV with your boyfriend.

“Okay!”

“You kids don't do anything stupid, alright?”

Your dad steps in and glances over both you and Shane.

“We won't.”

You answer shorty, following it up with another smile before turning your attention back to the movie. Shane nods at your parents, giving them a small wave. He stays completely silent until you hear the main door lock behind your parents.

“Kids?”

He asks, turning to face you now. You sigh, letting yourself relax slightly since your every move wasn't being monitored by your parents anymore. Not taking your eyes off of the TV, you shrug at Shane's question.

“I don't think my parents know how old you are.”

You innocently give him a simple answer, and he frowns, slightly confused.

“Yeah? Never asked?”

“Oh they did.”

You answer, popping a handful of popcorn into your mouth, not sure where he's going with this as you do not see any issues with occasionally hiding some minor things from your parents. Shane watches you for another moment, his eyebrows pull up as he slowly realizes what you've done.

“Mhm, so how old’d you make me?”

He bites his lip, squinting as he tilts his head to the side slightly, his eyes never leaving your face for even a moment.

“Ohh, you know.”

You give him a nonchalant wave, and his eyes open wide at the audacity in the tone of your voice.

“I don't.”

You don't reply, so he asks again.

“How old?”

“Twenty…something.”

He scoffs, huffing loudly, and turns to the side with a smirk, quickly looking back at you.

“Shit, darlin…haven't been twenty-something in a while, you know that?”

“Oh, you want me to go tell my dad that? Hmm?”

“No, no, okay just-”

You push yourself off the couch, but he catches your wrist and pulls you down in his lap.

“What you do that for? Hmm?”

He asks, his fingers on your chin as he turns your face back towards him.

“Cause you're old, Walsh.”

You answer quickly, and he sighs loudly, shaking his head with a big eye roll. His hand pushes your face away, and you fall off his lap and onto the couch.

“Asshole.”

He mumbles under his breath, and you laugh at his immature reaction, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek before changing the possession in which you lay on the couch.

“Lay down.”

You order him, and he follows, stretching his legs out on the couch, his hands under his head now as he watches you get comfortable on top of him. You throw your leg over his, choosing to lay down on your stomach, facing the TV with your head propped up in your hands by Shane's legs, your thighs over his lower chest, your ass right in front of his face. Shane clears his throat, pushing his hips up slightly as he attempts to get a bit more comfortable, his hand immediately on the back of your thighs.

“How's that?”

You glance back at him over your shoulder, and he doesn't even bother to pretend like he's still watching the movie.

“God damn perfect, darlin.”

And that's how he feels, with your tight leggings showing off the hem of your panties right there, so close to him, his thumb now brushing right over it.

“God damn perfect.”

You shake your head with a smirk, making sure to push your ass out some as you move on top of him. Shane grunts, pushing his fingers into your things and ass, and you hum loudly, wiggly slightly on top of him.

“Don't get too comfortable, Walsh.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, sweetie.”

He mumbles, his eyes still on your ass, closing only when he pushes his thumb against you through the fabric and you push back into his touch in response.

“It's kinda hot here, isn't it?”

You ask oh so innocently, pretending to still watch the movie.

“Yeah?”

Shane bites down on his lip, his whole hand coming over your ass now before he squeezes it tightly. His lips part as he glaces back and forth between you and your ass, waiting for your word.

“Mhm.”

You hum as a response and push your ass up slightly. Not even seconds after, you feel his fingers hook under the hem of your leggings. The fabric brushes over your skin as he pulls them down, exposing your panties. You quickly pull them up higher, allowing the fabric to dig into your pussy, accentuating the shape, not leaving much to his imagination anymore.

“Shit.”

As you push yourself up slightly, you "unintentionally" brush your hand up his legs, and then a bit higher and a bit more. Resting your palm on top of the bulge in his jeans, you feel him already almost half hard, straining against the fabric slightly. He breathes in sharply through his teeth and follows, cupping you over the fabric with his big hand before he pushes his thumb through your folds, brushing little circles over your clit. You sigh loudly, relaxing into his touch, letting him work over you through the fabric just like that. Shane holds you on top of him, his fingers digging into the back of your thigh, watching the small, slowly expanding darker spot right in the middle of the fabric as you feel yourself getting closer, and he feels his blood rushing right between his legs.

“Damn it.”

He mumbles, his hips bucking up under you without his control. You lay back down, resting your face on top of your arms, on his legs. Your hips slowly begin to move back and forth, pushing away slightly, then pushing right into this touch again, grinding on his fingers.

“Shit darlin’ that what we're doin’? You gonna rub one out for me? Hmm?”

He attempts to sound nonchalant, ignoring the slowly overwhelming sensation in his pants.

“Like you don’t want me to do that.”

You answer without even opening your eyes again.

“Like you don’t waaant me to come from how you touch me? Hmm?”

You tease, giving him the taste of his own medicine. He doesn’t say anything, but you feel him digging into your stomach now, pushing against the jeans.

“Hmm? Walsh?”

You turn to look over your shoulder as you don’t hear him again.

“You staring at my ass?”

“I ain’t.”

He states, not looking away from what’s in front of him for even a second, his thumb pushing up and down your folds the whole time.

“Walsh.”

“Not my fault, it’s right in my face.”

You scoff, getting back into the movement. Shane’s hand on the back of your thigh gradually speeds up the pace. Reaching down under your stomach, you palm the bulge between his legs, slowly rubbing your hand up and down his length. Shane grunts, pushing his thumb harder against you as you undo his zipper and tighten the grip around his cock. You grind against him for a bit longer, feeling yourself getting closer and closer with every second, losing your composure for a moment as you move back and forth on top of him. Until finally pushing back into him enough to get yourself over the edge. Grunting, you bite down on your lower lip, unintentionally wrapping your fingers even harder around him. He curses quietly, grabbing onto your wrist to pull your hand away from him before helping you change your position and lay down on your back.

“C’mere.”

He mumbles under his breath, kneeling between your legs before quickly reaching down to pull your panties off while you focus on helping him get his pants and boxers down, spreading your legs open for him at the same time.

“Shit, all that for me, darlin? Hmm? I make you feel that good?“

He whispers, rubbing his hand up and down his already hard cock.

“Don’t get cocky, or I’ll tell my parents how old you are.”

Shane raises his eyebrows, leaning down towards you.

“You’re the one lying bout it, sweetheart.”

You frown, pouting at the fact that he was, probably for the first time in his life, right about something.

“Oh, bite me.”

“Yeah, you wish, huh?"

"Don't get anything on the couch.”

You warn, and he grunts loudly, his head falling as he continues to thrust into you. Your words ring out in his head as a reminder, not letting him forget where he is, what he's doing or the fact that your parents could walk through the front door any second.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Feeling like a fucking teenager again, Shane speeds up the pace and your mouth falls open. A loud moan sips past your lips while he leans down quickly. Pushing your shirt up, he licks and kisses over your stomach, then your chest, the warm and wet feeling making your legs shake slightly and your hips push up into him. Your hand brushes over the short prickly hair at the back of his neck, your legs wrap around his waist, as you feel your whole body rocking back and forth with every thrust. Feeling the slight bit of pain as he hits that spot deep inside you, you whine out his name, pushing your hand between your legs to work your clit from the outside.

“Yeah? That feels good, baby? Huh?"

He teases, his hand quickly changing for yours, and you feel his touch on you now. It's rougher, harder and faster than what you would do, but you don't complain, feeling your back arch up at the sensation.

“Shane."

Your fingers wrap tightly around his arm, your body letting you know you won't be able to hold it back any longer. His thrusts are slower now, but they hit harder. You feel his hips brushing against you every time he pushes in deep inside you, and you cover your mouth, fighting back the whines that would otherwise fall from your mouth.

“Shit-”

He mumbles, feeling his cock stretching you out, and you clenching around him in response.

“Shit.”

He repeats one more time. His breathing shallows and his fingers push harder into you before you suddenly freeze. Your eyes shoot open, the sound of the car on the driveway to your house almost sending you into a panic, but he doesn't stop.

“Shane.”

You start, smacking his shoulder. Feeling him speeding up again, you moan suddenly and loudly.

“Shane they-”

“I know, I know, just-”

He glances back over his shoulder, his fingers on your clit, his hips thrusting into you again and again, determined to make you both finish.

***

Your breath shakes as you inhale sharply, biting into his arm to keep quiet, your body tensing up underneath him before finally coming undone. Your legs shake and wrap tighter around him, your teeth digging into his skin, your eyebrows pulled together as you fail to fight back the loud whine. Shane grunts loudly, leaning down over you as comes almost at the exact time you do. Clenching his jaw, he closes his eyes, holding himself up above you despite his arms shaking slightly from the work he's done. Panting heavily, he glances around your face, and you catch that god damn smirk before he pulls out quickly.

“It was good, wasn't it?”

He winks before pushing himself up.

“Fuuuck.”

You groan, feeling the drag of his cock leaving your body and pull your knees to your chest, taking a few deep breaths in before quickly getting off the couch. You grab your panties off the floor while Shane tosses the leggings at you before fixing his black shirt. You quickly slip the pants on, not bothering with the underwear, and Shane watches you approach him before you slip the still slightly damp ball of fabric into his pocket.

“For you, and if they ask, you're twenty-seven. Got it?"

You whisper with a smirk before pressing a soft kiss to the side of his face and straightening up your shirt the moment the lock on the door snaps open.

"We’re back!”

Your mom’s voice bounces off the walls of the house and Shane shakes his head quickly, blinking a couple of times as he attempts to get rid of the explicit images of you from moments ago playing back in his head.

"Yes ma'am."

He whispers more to himself than to anyone else, before making his way over to you and your parents, wiping his hand off on his jeans just in case.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

An Angel Without Wings

Title: An Angel Without Wings

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Frank Castle x Unnamed!Black!OFC

Fandom: The Punisher

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: When she needs him to take control, he’s there for her.

Warnings: pet name (Angel), Sir kink, male!Dom/fem!Sub, slight hair pulling, spanking, vaginal fingering, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids, aftercare

A/N: I’ve never written for Frank Castle. But I had a dream about him out of nowhere. And now you get fic loosely based on that dream. So, yeah. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

The jingle of keys in the front door alerts her to his arrival. Her knees ache from where she kneels on the hardwood flooring. Gooseflesh appears everywhere her leather and mesh lingerie set doesn’t cover. In her outstretched hands is her collar, a thin piece of black leather with a dangling tag that reads Angel. She keeps her eyes downcast until she has permission to look upon him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices her in the dimly lit apartment. He doesn’t acknowledge her at first. He sets his keys down on the table by the door, toes off his boots, and hangs his jacket on the coat rack. Turning around slowly, he pushes up the sleeves of his henley and walks towards her.

Studying her face, he can tell she longs for this. She wants to relinquish control, but more importantly, she needs him to take it from her. 

Coming to a standstill in front of her, he looks over her body as her eyes stay on the space between them. He picks up the collar and bends forward to secure it around her neck before walking around and placing his hands on her shoulders. Her smooth brown skin under his calloused tan hands is a stark contrast.

“Who are you?” His gruff voice fills the empty room.

“Angel,” she says, placing the backs of her hands on her thighs. She stares at her palms.

“That’s right. Who am I?” He asks, hooking a finger under one bra strap and sliding it across her skin.

“Sir,” she replies.

“Good girl. Now, do you remember our system?” He challenges, the pad of one thumb pressing into the side of her neck as his fingers move to wrap around.

“Green for go. Yellow for slow down. Red for stop, Sir,” she breathes, lifting her chin slightly as his hand closes around her throat.

Leaning forward, he whispers in her ear, “That’s my sweet Angel. I wanna see this pretty little thing you’re wearing for me. Stand up.”

“Yes, Sir,” she answers, raising her body to her full height while Frank mirrors her movement. She stands in front of him, close enough to feel his body heat on her back. Close enough that his breath on her neck makes her shiver.

With his left hand still around her throat, his right hand is left to explore her body. He can feel her pulse quickening under his thumb, relishing his effect on her. 

He closes the small gap between them and toys with the waistband of her thong. His fingers follow from her thong to the garter belt she is wearing, the thick mesh straps connecting to a strip of leather sitting perfectly around her curvy thighs. He switches directions, his hand ghosting over her fabric-covered mound on its way past her tummy to her pendulous breasts that are accentuated by the mesh bra with cutouts. Groping each breast, he gives them both ample attention. Sliding his thumb back and forth against the nipples, he grows harder at the sound of her whimpers. 

Loosening his grip on her throat even further, he nudges her shoulder to turn around. Once turned, he tangles a hand in her curls. Tightening his hand, he forces her to finally look at him by tilting her head. Her big brown eyes display her vulnerability, her desire, and her willingness to submit to him.

He runs the back of his knuckles softly against her face from cheek to jawline, grabbing her chin with his thumb and forefinger. Lowering his head a centimeter, he brushes his lips against hers before taking the lead in a heart-stopping kiss. He licks inside her mouth and massages her tongue with his. Feeling her knees start to buckle, he slows the kiss and steps away from her.

She follows his movement as he steps up to the couch and sits dead center. He pats his thighs, and she knows to assume “the position”. Climbing on top of him, she lays across his lap with her ass up in the air.

Running a hand over her exposed globes, he speaks lowly to her. “My sweet Angel has the smoothest skin. And the sound it makes when I-,” He raises his hand, and it lands with a SMACK, “-hit it just right? Perfection.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she breathes, panting just slightly.

Frank adjusts himself so that she feels his growing length against her abdomen. When he feels her pushing her ass into his hand again, he lands a healthy SMACK on both cheeks. With both hands, he parts her ass and runs a thumb over the dampening gusset of her thong.

“Mmmm, gettin’ wet already for me, huh? Let’s see what happens when I lay down a few more spanks then,” he hums, putting one hand on her back while the other begins a rhythm of SMACK after SMACK after SMACK. From one cheek to the other, he delivers blow after blow until she pipes up.

“Yellow, Sir!” She sniffles, her hands grabbing onto the couch cushion.

“Good girl, Angel,” Frank says, lightly soothing her ass with slow strokes of his hand. He runs his fingers over the now-soaked center of her mesh panties. Frank groans and moves her underwear to the side, so he has access to her wet little pussy. 

With two fingers, he slides into her core, stretching her out. She moans and grinds her hips, he scissors her open. Wet, squelching noises fill the room as he adds another finger, massaging her swollen clit with his thumb. He picks up speed as her walls start to twitch around his digits.

“That’s it, Angel. Cum for me, baby,” he urges, his gravelly voice rumbling through his chest. “You can do it, Angel. Soak my fingers, girl.”

Within seconds, her heat clamps down on his fingers as she reaches her peak. Shuddering as she cums, she whimpers as he works her through her orgasm. Mumbled nonsense spills from her mouth as she tries her hardest to thank Frank for the earth-shattering climax.

Once she is calmed down from her intense high, Frank picks her up as he stands and walks to their bedroom. Laying her down softly, he steps back and unzips his pants, and pulls out his cock and balls. His uncut hard-on stands proudly as his heavy sac hangs under it. 

She licks her lips and moves to the edge of the bed on her hands and knees. Before she can reach out a hand to his dick, he shakes his head and chuckles. 

“Nah. Not tonight, baby. I’m already close to blowin’. If you get that perfect little mouth on me, it’s over. Now, turn around and get that ass over here,” he directs, watching as a sly smile appears on her face.

As soon as she is turned around, Frank grabs her hips and pulls her to him. Using one hand to press her face-down into the mattress, he uses the other to line himself up to her slick center. He slides into her warmth and lets out a grunt as he settles inside her.

Retracting his hips slowly, he leaves just the tip in for a second until he slams back in. Thrusting once, twice, three times; he sets an unremitting pace. Her moans are music to his ears as he plunges over and over into her tight slit. 

Her womanhood drools over his shaft as he reaches a hand down to play with her puffy pearl. Overcome with her impending fall over the edge, she tightens her fists into the bedsheets and lets out a wail as her depths flutter around his thick girth.

“Ohhhh fuuuuuuck, Angel. That’s it! Just like that, gimme that good shit, baby,” he rambles on, chasing his release as he fucks her through hers. “Argh, fuck! I’m gonna fill you up, Angel. Beg me for it.”

“Please, Sir! Please fill me up! I need you; I need you so bad,” she gushes, so blissfully fucked out that she would do anything for Frank at this moment.

“That’s my Angel. Ugh fuck!” Frank fucks into her one last time, his cockhead poking at her sensitive cervix. As he spills inside her, he huffs every time his dick spasms.

She sighs as her body accepts his load, a hazy smile on her face. 

Frank pulls out, watching as his jizz tries to escape. He uses a finger to catch his spend and push it back inside her. Tucking himself away, he helps her lay down with her head against the pillows before lying next to her. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, and she cuddles into his side. Kissing the top of her head, he also gives her a quick squeeze.

They are quiet for a moment until she speaks, “Thank you, Frankie. Fuck, I needed that.”

“Anytime, baby. You know I’m here for you. Anything you need. All you gotta do is ask, and I’ll come running,” he confesses, smiling down at her when she looks up at him. “Now, don’t get too comfy. We’re gonna take a bath together so I can soothe those sore muscles.”

“Frankie, how did I get so lucky to have a man like you?” Her big brown eyes focus on him while her hand cradles his face.

He chuckles before replying, “Nah, I’m the lucky one. You love me with your whole heart, you lift me on my hardest days, and the way you look at me like I hung the damn moon? You’re a saint, my Angel.”

She leans up on one elbow, looking at Frank with unshed tears. “You think you don’t do the same? Please, baby. You are my heart, my love, my everything. You came home from what I assume was most likely a hard day, and you dropped everything to give me what I needed. You, Frank Castle, are the real angel here. One of those cool, brooding angels without wings.”

“An angel without wings, huh? Sounds kinda badass, honestly,” he jokes, leaning up to place a chaste kiss on her lips before getting out of bed. He walks around to where she sits on the edge with her legs dangling. She smiles at him and swats his hands away when he tries to pick her up again.

He raises his hands in defeat and follows her as she walks into the bathroom. They get undressed as the clawfoot tub fills with warm water and lavender-scented bubbles. Frank helps her step in and then slides in behind her.

Washing her body, he massages her favorite body wash into her flesh. She returns the favor, and they exit the tub. Frank wraps a towel around his hips and uses another to pat her skin lightly from head to toe. 

Once they are in pajamas and back in bed, he pulls her back into his arms. Ghosting a hand up and down her arm until her breathing settles and soft snores escape her, he can finally rest now that she is safe and sound.

A/N: Ok, this was loosely based on a dream I had about Frank Castle. It was a little bit more *insert whip sound here* in my dream, but maybe I will include that in another tale someday.

[missmarveledsblog]

Angel night ( frank castle x reader )

Summary : Frank comes home to thinking his angel is in danger only to realise that she has had a nightmare . he makes sure to comfort his girl . this like part of what i will be calling the angel verse  of our beloved bad ass punisher and his equally bad ass sarcastic ball of sunshine that is y/n " angel" murdock . 

warnings : angsty fluffy fun , frank being a teddy bear ( i love making big bad ass men teddy bears) . i have a smutty version post soon . 

A year to the night of when he first met angel probably would of been laughable if someone told him he would fall head over heels in love with a murdock but yet now here he was coming home to their shared apartment.

Coming back to the place he once deemed just that the place he slept and lived in , was now a home . each part has some sort of reminder of the woman that brought sunshine and light into the dark hole he felt his life become. He never thought he could love again , find a second chance to be the happiest he's ever been and yet here he was smile on his face looking around his home  even if he was bloody and bruised after spending few days with said woman's annoying older brother . that smile soon faded , like he could clock something was wrong . his angel didn't come to greet him like she always did no matter what time of the night or day he got back  . a familiar chill ran down his back as he inspected the place nothing seemed to be touched it should of calmed his fears knowing if she was under some sort of threat she would leave evidence of such an event . yet when her screams hit his ear sent him into action mode straight through to the bedroom expecting to see the worst .

Gun drawn he looked around for the threat like it was second nature then he saw her face. That told him everything he needed to know , the pain on her face as she moved in the bed , the sweat on her forehead. She was having a nightmare and a bad one at that.

" angel" he called soft and gentle hoping the tone could change the course of her dreams which sometimes works or wake her from the hell she was trapped in . he went to move forward only for her to shoot up gasping and panting for air tired confused eyes trying to make sense of the environment before locking on him.

" fr-frank you're ok? Please say you're ok" she pleaded voice filled with heartbreak and fear . asking him instead of confirming it was just a nightmare. It broke his heart seeing her so sorrowful like she was still trying to distinguish reality and dream . He didn't speak partially because he was relieved she wasn't under some threat or worse . wordlessly he took off the tactical gear he was wearing before lifting her in his arms letting her heartbroken sobs soak into the shirt he was wearing . sitting her on their sofa and kiss to her head he went to the kitchen. Chuckling at the burnt pot soaking into the sink . He began making the hot chocolate one she enjoyed most during a bad times ,which this deemed to be one of those . Making his more irish , he carried the cups into the living room deal with the clean up in the morning right now it really wasn't important. Handing her the cup and placing his own on the coffee table noticing the shivers down her body , instantly sitting on the sofa and pulling her into his lap wrappin the comforter around her body .

" you're ok" she repeated like it was all she could say .

" i'm ok , i got you sweet girl" he kissed her head holding her a little tighter . Not a word spoken nor was he going to ask , he knew when she was ready she would. Taken her from the room to ground herself and let her just bare her senses . let her ground herself after the trauma her unconscious inflicted. It was bad he knew as much her nightmare never spilled out physically or made her scream that loud. Soft touches and kisses reminding her he was there keeping her safe from the unseen monsters. Waiting til she was ready if she ever was ready to talk about it either way he was there for her.

An hour of silence , an hour of just feeling him under her touch knowing he was actually there. At first it felt like a trick of her mind , the dream was so vivid that real life seemed as it was the dreamland . finally finding her voice she lifted her head eyes looking into his , scanning his face like it was another thing she need to do to definitely be sure .

" they got me , i don't know how but when my eyes opened i was in the dingey room , i could actually smell the damp and mould , it was so real i could feel the binds around my wrist" she said lip trembling as she rubbed the skin of her wrists only for him to take each hand and placing a kiss on the skin .

" they wanted me to work for them , comply to their evil requests and do their dirty work. I kept saying no i wasn't a monster like them , i tried using my powers and they wouldn't come all i kept thinking was you and matt as i pulled on the binds, then like they could read my mind " she paused willing herself not to break as he rubbed her hand letting her know she wasn't alone nor did she need to continue if it was too much one things she loved about him . frank never pressured her into anything, never control any aspect of her life something she never had before .

" they pulled .. they pulled you into the room , hog tied and gagged , bruised and bloody i begged them to let you go and they laughed" she sniffled . " they kept asking me to do it and i said no you said no and each time they hit you and each time it was hard, it was so real i could hear their fist hit your skin , your pained grunts and groans . i screamed for them to let you go when your eyes started getting heavy i agree i did whatever i could to make sure they would stop hurting you , i would do anything to keep you from harm" she cried only for his hand to come up and wipe the tears off her cheeks.

" they shot you and laughed when i screamed , crying begging you to wake up and then he turned and went to grab me by the throat i couldn't breathe . I woke up" she looked up into his eyes .

all he wanted to do was take that pain , all those fears from her. take all those negative feelings and make them positive . seeing the one he loves the most so scared ,  so pained never was something he wanted nor would he wish for.  all he wanted to see on her face was smiles although seeing her mad was a hot one though he made sure it never last so long . she was usually the one making everyone so happy and laughing and now it was her turn to be taking care of . 

He held her face in his hand kissing her cheeks , her forehead , nose before kissing her lips letting her know he was there and not planning on leaving at anytime soon .

"angel , my sweet girl i promise you with every fibre in my being those sick fucks will never get you , nor will they hurt you in any shape , we both know you are a powerhouse all on your own powers or not , but in saying that i will kill them all , i would burn this world to make sure it meant you were safe , you my sweet girl gave me a second chance at something i never knew could exist , one that has me looking forward to coming home , waking up in the morning i will let nothing get in the way of that" he kissed her lips again .

" what if you get killed running around with my brother" she sniffled.

" i alway will come home to you no matter what that brother of yours pulls me into i'll keep him safe too , i'm here , i'm breathing , see my heart its beating , it's beating stronger ever since your sassy little ass came into my life " he said softly holding her hand to his chest . " every part of me will make sure i come home to you because you are my everything and more , you gave me something i never thought i would have , something i thought i gave up on so long ago , something so forbidden it was impossible for me to even think of , you gave me a future , you repair a man so broken that others would of just cast away and deemed so unfixable . you gave me a second chance of living i love you so much angel i hope you know you saved me " he pulled her into his arms . " well unless you cook for me well then sorry that's out of my hands " he chuckled only to hear her giggles muffled in his t-shirt and her hand bat his chest.

" hey i'm not that bad but  i love you too " she looked up now smile on her face.

" say that too the pot in there , there she is , there's  my girl now how about we get some sleep and i make us some breakfast in the morning and we have a lazy ass day  watching movies and eating junk food , can even prank call your brother and stark i know you love winding those two up  " he kissed her lips before lifting her in his arms and carrying her into the room . both physically and emotional tired as her head on his chest hand over his heart . feeling the rise and fall of his chest , feeling his heartbeat and his hands in her scalp soothing her . she felt her eyes getting heavy and drifting off to sweeter dreams one where she lived a future with the man she never thought she would find herself falling in love with giving their first encounter .

While he watched her fall into a soothing sleep , wondering when it was the best time to use that ring he hid snugly in his drawer unbeknownst to him of making her dreams a reality . He meant it when he said it , he would burn the world burn just for her to be safe and he was going to do everything to keep her safe . but for now he all he could do was hold his angel , his favourite murdock and lets his own dreams take over one's now filled with promises of a better and bright future. Because a future with angel ,was a future worth living for .  

[vadinaleme]

HE’S REALLY BACK. HE’S COMING HOME GUYS.

IM SCREAMING, SOBBING, CRYING, THROWING UP.

[fanficreader82]

He’s so handsome

[i-like-superheros]

"37?"

"That they know about."

Makes me laugh every time.

[darlingshane]

he's got a professor vibe going on here that i can't handle.

[brofanatic]

Why is Jon bernthal so pretty. Every single character he plays seems to have a streak of goofy boyish charm in there, skewed but strong morals, a violent streak, and at least one scene of him mean-mugging the camera for an extended period of time.

[yourimagines]

How you met fluff P.2

* English is not my first language I apologise

* Gif is not mine

* Triggers: fluff

Part 1

Jon Bernthal:

You were invited by him to his podcast.

"I'm so happy to have you here, I'm a big fan of you y/n." He says on the podcast. you blushed at him.

"I'm honored to be here, Big fan of your work and i'm very grateful for being here." He smiles and leans a bit back in his seat.

"Well, I'm happy to invited you more often then." He winked at you, causing you to giggle. Fans went crazy over this one and wanted to see more interactions between the two of you. So you did got invited more often on his podcast.

Jeffrey Dean Morgan:

You met him at a comic con. You were a big fan of his work and decided to buy an autograph from him.

“Hello, nice to see you here y/n.” He said with a grin on his face.

“Hello, nice to see you too.” You said shyly as you gave him your Negan funko pop.

“You collect those?” He was surprised to see you with a Funko pop.

“Yes, I’m secretly a big geek. I have tons of those pops at home.” You admitted shameful.

He shook his head and told you he likes it and was hoping he could see your collection one day. He was secretly a big fan of your work as well and wants to know you better. You agreed on that, you texted him later that day through Instagram, sending him a picture from your geek room at home. You both met up weeks later at your house, giving him a full house tour.

Lauren Cohan:

You met her through social media. She sensed you a message as she saw your photos.

“I really like those pictures, did you make them?” You were smiling like an idiot at your phone.

“Yes I did 🙈” You couldn’t believe it that Lauren noticed you. You both talked for hours about everything and at some point she asked you out, to meet each other in person. You agreed and met up for the first time at a small cute restaurant.

Melissa McBride:

You met Melissa through your friend Norman. He had invited you both to his birthday dinner and she made the first move as you were a bit nervous about meeting all of his co workers.

“You look good tonight, I’m sorry I don’t think we met properly. I’m Melissa.” She gave you a sweet smile as she sat in front of you.

“Oh thank you, you look good as well. I’m y/n.” You both smiled at each other and tried to have a normal conversation but it was more smiling than anything else. She was nervous but so were you. Norman noticed that and helped you guys out, making sure you saw each other more often.

Danai Gurira:

You met her at a new Marvel project.

"Hi." You said as you sat down next to her at the table reading.

"Hello, I don't think we met each other." She reached her hand out for you to take it, you gladly accepted it and shook her hand.

"I think we have, I'm Y/n nice to meet you." You smiled at her and she smiled back at you.

"Nice to meet you too, I'm Danai. I think we will get along just fine." She laughs as she points at the script.

"I think we will, we have too." You knew what she meant and joked back. one of the first jokes in your friendship that will blossom to something even more.

[chellestrash]

Please, Mr. Ghost Face

Frank Castle x F!Reader Halloween Special (18+)

Warnings: explicit language, explicit smut, semi-public, unprotected sex, roughy sex, brat! reader, frank being kinda bitchy, oral (f!receiving) knife play, mention of blood play, teasing.

Summary: look at the title, look at the warnings, you know what it is, enjoy!!

Word count: 7.2k

AN: Oh my god okay, thank you @chelseasdagger and @suitsofwo3 for getting me to actually finish writing this (i literally felt like i was loosing my god damn mind trying to push through). I dont know why it turned out so long I dont normaly write things that are over 3k so this...yeah I really hope at least some of you will enjoy. I love reading your thoughs and feedback on my fic so please, feel free to share them. Reblogs are very appriciated as always :) HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

You're not sure how Frank managed to get his entire Halloween costume ready before you finished the few quick fixes to your makeup. Even considering the fact that it took you around an hour to get the whole look together, and he repeatedly told you no matter when he started getting ready, he'd still be finished before you. He was right. Was it annoying? Slightly, yes, but for once, him being right was actually a good thing since you were already late to a house party one of your friends decided to throw at the end of the week once most of you were finally done with work.

You fix up your lipstick and try the fake fangs on one more time before messing with your hair a bit and taking a couple steps back to check the outfit out in the mirror. Nothing too creative, just a simple well-fitted black dress, slightly shorter than what you'd usually wear, a couple of bright red details and some silver jewelry. A last minute vampire, sure, it'll do.

You straighten up the fabric and look up and down at your reflection one more time.

“Right, I think I'm ready!”

You raise your voice, making sure he’d hear you, before grabbing the last few things and turning to the door.

“So, what did you decide to go as?”

You shout again, curious about how much effort he decided to put into the whole thing this year. Halloween wasn't necessarily a holiday Frank enjoyed, but he'd do this and that occasionally just to make you happy.

“Did you figure it out?”

Another question since he didn't answer the previous one. You step out of the room, digging through your small bag in search of your phone before you walk directly into your boyfriend’s chest.

“Shit, sorry.”

You mumble and Frank grabs your arm, helping you regain the balance before you end up with your ass on the wooden floor.

“Christ, easy, 'you okay?”

Frank’s deep, groggy voice rumbles through your body, and you take a moment to fix up the dress before finally tracing your eyes up his body. You bite the inside of your cheek and it feels like the words get stuck in your throat before you can answer him.

Frank stands in front of you with his usual outfit on. Combat boots, the ones you rarely see him out of, one of the dark gray, now slightly worn off jeans, and a black tank top, his heavy, deep navy blue jacket already in his hand. The reason for your reaction doesn't have anything to do with his exceptionally ordinary choice of clothing, but rather with a thing you're not used to seeing on him.

The basic Ghost Face mask from Scream covering his face makes it rather difficult to focus on… really anything else. The loose black cloth falls onto his exposed shoulders, covering part of his neck, and you catch yourself staring at him and his body for probably slightly longer than necessary.

“Oh, fuck.”

You finally manage to get out a couple of words, and Frank lets go of your arm.

“Think it'll do?”

You catch his question this time but keep your eyes fixed on the mask as his voice flows from underneath the fabric.

“Shit, yeah, yeah it’ll do alright.”

You lean back on the nearest wall, looking over his figure from head to toe once again.

“Shit, Frank, where did you even find that?”

“Corner shop.”

He shrugs and takes a step in your direction after a moment. You feel your back pushing against the door frame, a familiar warm feeling growing between your legs when his frame grows bigger in your field of view. His shoulders and chest, slightly exposed by the tight tank top, the fabric clearly struggling some right above his sternum. You catch the corner of your lips pulling up in a confident smirk once you finally take in the whole picture.

The dark, empty eyes of the mask pierce through your own for a moment and you cross your legs nonchalantly before Frank finally reaches up to get rid of the cheap Halloween costume.

Quickly grabbing his wrist, you stop him before he’s able to pull the mask off of his face. His head tilts to the side slightly, his sudden confusion expressed by the pose.

“What?”

The question, slightly muffled by the dark fabric, only amplifies the smirk already present on your face. You grin happily at the Ghost Face character right in front of you, somehow feeling like he already knows the answer to his question.

“Don’t fucking tell me you’re into that.”

Shaking his head, he tries again but you interrupt the action one more time.

���Oh boohoo, and what if I was?”

You tease. Your impatient hands linger over his body, fingers rubbing over the fabric of both his shirt and jeans. Hooking your hand over the waistband of the jeans, you pull yourself up, pushing off of the wall and leaning forward towards him, rubbing your leg up his own slowly. The fabric of the dress slides off of you slightly, exposing a decent amount of skin. Guiding Frank's hand to the back of your body, you arch your back slightly, pushing your ass into his palm, humming satisfied once you feel his tight grip through the dress. Frank's chest expands with a loud sigh, the space between your bodies closing almost completely now. He watches you carefully; every move, every tease, every little movement you plan out carefully, seemingly only to get a desired reaction out of him.

“What if I was, Mister Ghost Face?”

Your purr, biting down on your lower lip, your hand now pressed against his chest as you gently drag your nails over the fabric. Frank grunts, the harsher touch clearly getting to him now, and you fight back some smart ass comment your brain so kindly decided to equip you with. Instead, you drop your hand to your thigh under the slit at the side of the skirt. Pulling the fabric back, you let a glimpse of the bright red underwear peek from underneath the costume. Frank finally breaks once you glare up at him suggestively.

“Mmmmm, fuck.”

He groans from behind the mask, gripping your ass firmly before pulling you onto himself, your leg hooked loosely behind his. Slipping his hand under the fabric of the dress, he digs his fingers into your flesh and you part your lips, letting out a satisfied moan in return.

“‘M not fucking you with the mask on, kid.”

Way to kill the mood. You think, but bite your tongue just in time, not willing to give up on the idea just yet. You can't help it. To be completely honest, it feels like his fault. You didn’t make him look this good in the costume, well, part of it, you never anticipated he’d pick out this exact one either. The fact that it was able to get these reactions from you and your body? Yeah, seems like you’re innocent. Gliding your hand between his legs, you drag your nails over the bulge before spreading your fingers apart, cupping the whole of it in your palm.

Frank grunts and the previously present smirk makes its way back onto your face, you don’t even try to act innocent anymore.

Listening to his now heavier breathing, despite his not so thrilled demeanor, his heart picks up the pace slightly, the blood rushing down between his legs.

A faint twitch under the jean fabric corresponding with his fingers digging deeper into your thigh and you know he's focused now. He's listening.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

You push the weight of your body against his groin, and his hand finds its way up to your hair. Fingers tangle into your hair before he tugs on it firmly. Your head tilts up, and the Ghost Face mask finally comes off once you cannot delay the inevitable any longer.

He leans in closer, his warm breath brushes over your lips, and you fight back the cocky smirk, not entirely sure which one of you wanted to feel the other more at this moment.

His stern expression only strengthens once you reach your hand behind him. Your fingers brush over his ass and you watch how his jaw tightens, his eyes closing.

“Oh, there he is.”

You tease, and he almost snaps this time, inhaling deeply through his nose in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“You try that shit one more time-”

He starts. Leaning closer to your ear, his lips brushing over your neck.

“And we're gonna have a big problem, kid.”

“Oh.”

You whisper, grinding into his thigh slowly.

“Oh, are we? We gonna have a problem, Mister Ghost Face?”

Your lips almost brush over his now. Frank opens his mouth to talk back, ready to have you bent over and waiting for him, ready to make both of you feel good or, most importantly, ready to have you apologize for the whole god-damn mask thing.

You breathe out a quiet laugh at the frustrated expression on his face once the sound of your phone successfully distracts you from his attempts to intimidate you.

With his hand still under your dress, the other in your hair, his leg between yours and his body leaning down over you, you answer the phone. Speaking as if it was the most casual situation possible.

“Yeah? Oh, yeah, we're on our way, we'll be there in a bit. Yeah.”

Frank watches, flabbergasted, as you make up a little story about why the two haven't joined the rest yet. You smack his shoulder a couple of times, pushing away from him and taking a few steps into the direction of the front door.

“What?”

You ask once the phone call is over.

“You're the one who said it's not happening.”

***

You arrive at the party a good while after it began. The house feels pretty crowded, the music is way louder than necessary, and you're pretty certain you're able to pick up the smell of both alcohol and cigarettes from the other side of the street. It honestly feels like one of those weekend college parties that used to always leave you with a two day long hangover a couple of years back. You shiver from a gust of the cold night wind and look over at your boyfriend while pulling the jacket close around your body. Frank looks unimpressed with that really significant frown on his face, not looking forward to spending the rest of the night in a small, crowded place with a bunch of people he didn't want to have to deal with.

“Oh, you’ll be fineee.”

Your oh so encouraging words earn you a stern look from him before he shakes his head with a deep sigh.

“Just go.”

You laugh and with his hand resting against your lower back, he pushes you towards the door, slipping on the movie accurate mask with a look of disapproval as you climb up the steps together.

“I’m throwing this thing out tomorrow.”

The muffled sound of his voice humors you, but you bite your tongue.

“Whatever you say, Frankie.”

***

This wasn’t Frank's idea, of course it wasn’t. He agreed to go to the party knowing how much you’d enjoy yourself but that was the only reason. The costumes weren’t even in the picture when you first asked him to join you, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to run around to different stores frantically trying to assemble a Halloween outfit. The mask was the first thing he saw after stepping into that corner store earlier in the day. He didn’t pay it much thought earlier, but now? After you made it blatantly obvious how much you enjoyed the whole thing, well… he struggled to get through one conversation without his thoughts slipping back to what happened before you two left your place.

You weren’t any better. Even when you split to catch up with different groups of friends after you stepped into the house, you found yourself constantly scanning the room in search of either his face, the mask, or his back. Catching his glance from across the room, you smile, raising the bottle of beer in your hand up. He does the same, but the gentle smile on his lips wears off the second you gesture for him to pull the mask back down. Frank rolls his eyes, shaking his head, before continuing his conversation with some guy you managed to interrupt.

You could try to focus on other things, on the drinks, the music, the stories shared between your friends. You could…but you can’t. There’s no use in trying when your eyes keep searching for Frank every other moment and your mind keeps slipping into places you’d rather not discuss in a room full of people.

With that in mind, you make it your mission to tease Frank through the evening and really see how hard you can make this get to him.

It starts slow: some gentle touches as you pass him by here and there, pushing your fingers through the hair on the back of his head as you two try to hold a conversation with another person, sitting in his lap when some of the people move to sit outside, and most importantly encouraging him to keep the mask on. It’s a costume party, after all.

He catches on when you two are in the kitchen and you obnoxiously brush your ass against his cock while squeezing past him to grab another beer from the fridge.

He grunts, his fingers quickly wrapping around your arm, and he glares into your eyes, silently warning you, possibly hoping it would somehow get you to behave. It doesn’t. You shoot him a quick smirk, waving at one of your friends wearing an angel costume when she walks into the kitchen.

“We’re doing a group photo in the living room!”

She announces excitedly, and you grin, immediately matching her energy.

“Are we showing our costumes off?”

Frank's fingers loosen the grip around you, and you step away from him without hesitation, taking your friend's hand while she answers your question.

“Yeah! We're trying to get everyone in!”

“Oh, fun!”

Walking by her side, you step out of the kitchen, turning back for just a moment.

“You heard that, Frankie? Costumes!!”

***

Back in the living room, you all gather together to attempt the impossible task of fitting every single person at the party into one photo together. Frank joins everyone a bit after you, walking in your direction as you all begin to take your somewhat assigned places.

“Hi.”

You start innocently, standing on your toes, to press a quick kiss to the side of his face. Frank nods in response, cautious of your tricks. Standing behind you to make you more visible in the photo, he wraps his arm around your chest, and you quickly grab onto his forearm. Glancing back over your shoulder, you quickly point out the obvious.

“You gotta put the mask on.”

“Mind your business, yeah?”

He murmurs, and you breathe out a quiet laugh, not looking away even for a second while he pulls the dark fabric and white mask over his face. You take a deep breath in, and the corner of your lips pull up in a satisfied smirk.

“Frankie-“

You start, the gentle heat between your legs returning since he put the mask on for the first time, now more prominent as he stares down at you once again.

“Leave it.”

He orders in a harsh whisper and with his hand on the back of your neck, he makes you face the camera. Your body takes over your brain and when everyone poses for the photo and his hand slides to your lower back, you push your ass out and press it against his bulge. His grunt, muffled by the mask and the constant noise of the party, slips from under the mask and his hands find your hips faster than you realize it was happening. His fingers dig into your thighs, so hard you know it'll leave bruises. He holds you still, knowing god-damn well if he lets go you'll repeat exactly what you just did.

There's a flash of the phone, and once the photo is taken he lets go of your body immediately. You make up your mind, deciding to risk it. Pushing past a few groups of people that begin to form around the living room, you excuse yourself, glancing back at Frank to make sure he's watching before you disappear behind the corner. You make your way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You don't lock it. You know he won't let that whole thing slip. No more than five minutes pass before he decides to join you.

“Took you long enough.”

You point out and push yourself off the edge of the bathtub, standing up before taking a couple steps in his direction. Frank shuts the door closed and turns back to face you.

“Oh, you wanted me to just walk after you, huh? Make it real obvious?”

He takes a step closer to you, his chest almost rubbing against yours when he looks down.

“No one would give a shit, Frank, everyone's drunk. We could fuck with the door wide open and they wouldn't notice.”

“Stop.”

His voice harsh with the warning.

“Why?”

You push without hesitation or any intention of stopping.

“That get you too much, huh? Bet you'd like that, Frankie, hmm?”

Frank's body tenses up at your attempt to tease him. He stands up straighter, taller, and his shoulders stiffen, his chest rising when he breathes heavily under the mask. His hand balls up into a tight fist as he pushes back the frustration, trying not to hand you exactly what you want from him out on a plate.

“You just don't ever shut up, do you?”

You breathe out a quiet laugh, shaking your head slowly before you stand up on your tiptoes. Staying at eye level with the mask now, you squint, trying to see through the sheer fabric in the eyeholes.

“Oh I do. I can shut up but you don't like that, do you?”

You whisper. The muscles in his neck tensing when his jaw tightens and he shakes his head slowly.

“Yeah, okay, how ‘bout you try for once. Might do you some good.”

“Yeah?”

You whisper again, your hand now rubbing over the center of his chest, feeling the heat under his shirt.

“Make me.”

The words slip past the big smirk on your face and you decide now is the time. Sliding your hand down his body, you brush over the bulge in his jeans. Not giving him time to react, you grip his cock tightly through the thick fabric. With that, you watch whatever was left of Frank's composure crumble away.

There's a moment of silence where his fingers wrap around your wrist. His grip is tight and he holds it in place. You glance down, watching his hand for a moment, before squeezing him once again.

“F-”

He grunts, yanking your hand away with so much force you couldn't possibly even try to fight it back.

“That's it.”

Immediately, you feel his body pushing into yours once he shoves you back against the bathroom counter. Your lips part but you keep the moan back, wrapping your arms around his neck and biting into his exposed shoulder once you feel the porcelain digging into your lower body.

Breathing heavier under the plastic mask, he reaches down to the high slit on the side of your dress. His fingers push into your skin and drag up your thigh. Your breath rushes and your chest rises and falls faster now, the only indication, besides the elaborate banter and the teasing, of how much you've been thinking of this since getting to the party.

You hum loudly once his fingers brush over the hem of your underwear. Your hips push forward slightly in need of his touch once he tugs on the fabric to pull it down. You reach towards him, hands working the buckle of his belt open once the lace of your panties brushes down your calf. Frank reaches up, hand gripping the mask to finally pull it off, but you grab his wrist, stooping him once again.

There's a moment of silence when you both wait for the other to talk, the heat of your bodies radiating through the small bathroom. The pure lust for one another allows this to last only a few seconds.

“Keep it on.”

You request, knowing deep down that you can push him enough to actually have him fuck you with it on.

“Jesus fucking-”

Frank scoffs, pulling the mask off and looking away from you. He shakes his head, disapproving of whatever the hell you've been trying to get him involved in since the night started. He turns back to face you, his eyebrows pulled together, face in a frustrated frown.

“Seriously, this shit again?”

You roll your eyes with a frustrated sigh, hand on his chest as you push against his body, creating some distance between both of you.

“Could you just do one fucking thing without bitching about it so much? Like, is that too hard or?”

You push one more time, both the tone of your voice and the choice of words a lot harsher than before. You keep your gaze on his eyes, confidently staring him down after your annoyed statement, not letting go of this whole thing, not now, not with knowing how close you were.

Frank stands tall in front of you, jaw tight, teeth grinding against each other, and his chest pushes out with the breath he's been holding in his lungs. His eye twitches slightly before he looks off to the side. The bridge of his nose scrunches up when he inhales quickly, nodding once he finally turns back to face you again.

“Alright.”

He slowly pulls the mask back on.

“Your fucking call, sweetheart.”

Before there's time to react, he grabs your arm and shoves you against the sink, turning your body around in one swift motion, bending you over the counter and wrapping his fingers around your upper thigh.

“Your fucking call.”

His words travel down your body and between your legs, the excitement of getting what you wanted, followed by the thrill of the entire situation. The warmth between your legs grows once Frank pulls your ass back, kicking your legs open with his foot. You glance up, focusing on his reflection in the mirror in front of you.

The man towers over you, his shoulders broad and heavy, his chest in the dark tank top, his arm flexing when he holds your lower back down against the wood. The mask, fuck, the mask exposing the tense muscles in his neck, the whole sight taking over your senses, your mind and body.

His heavy hand rubs over your back, up and down a couple of times, before he pushes his palm under the fabric of your dress. Bunching it up, he pulls it over your ass and you can't help but push it out some more in search of his touch.

There's a loud scoff, and you see him shaking his head in the mirror.

“You know, you talk a lot of shit for how wet you are right now, sweetheart.”

He mocks you, pulling the black fabric up before pushing his fingers between your legs.

You whine out loud, closing your legs at the sudden touch but pull them apart again almost instantly.

“Yeah, s’ what I thought. You got a big mouth for-”

“Oh, shut up.”

You cut into his words and feel his fingers on the back of your neck. The grip tightens and he pulls you up, back into an upright position, your body now pressed against his chest. The reflection in the mirror makes your mouth part, but you bite into your lower lip, fighting back another moan. His figure looms over you, the mask ways up above your shoulder, his hand moving to the front of your neck. You feel yourself react to the sight in front of you, to the feeling of his fingers wrapping tighter around your neck, the warmth of his body so close behind you.

“What, you think I'm gonna say make me? Hmm?"

Pushing you back down on the counter, Frank steps closer to your body, his clearly hard cock pressing against your ass.

“Nah, that's your part. I don't do that shit.”

Taking your chance, you perk your ass up some, brushing over the warm spot between his legs. Frank grunts, closing his eyes for a moment before reaching down, pushing his pants open and then down slightly, pulling himself out of the black boxers.

Unable to win with your body this time, you slip up, letting out a moan once his cock springs out from under the dark fabric, stretched out over the large bulge up until this point.

There's a low chuckle from under the Ghost Face mask.

“That shit really gets you that bad?”

One of Frank's hands digs into your thigh, holding you close, the other wrapped tightly around his length.

You nod, making sure he catches the still confident expression on your face in the bathroom mirror.

“Oh, you've got no idea.”

You tease again and Frank moves his hand up to your shoulder blades. Pushing your body down against the counter, he clears his throat.

“Think I got some.”

He lines himself up, getting a few pumps in over his length before spreading you open with his free hand. He pushes inside slower than you'd have liked, pausing after the tip the second he feels how truly ready you are.

“You get off on these things, huh?”

He continues the questing, beginning to thrust into you, and you feel your body stretching to fit him in with every push. Your lips part as your mouth falls open before you bite into your lip, trying to muffle the sounds you're sure would otherwise fill the space of the small bathroom. You try to keep your head up, focusing on Frank's reflection. His body takes up most of your view. You focus on the mask, the low grunts coming from behind it, the feeling of his cock dragging inside of you, out of you and then pushing right back inside, and the feeling of him stretching you out that never goes away entirely.

“You want it fucking scary? Hmm? That'll do it for you?”

He keeps up the teasing, quick to point out every single reaction your body presents him with, and you finally decide to bite back.

You reach behind your back, hand on the front of his hip, tapping your palm against his body to get his attention. Pausing his movements for a moment, Frank watches your face in the mirror, giving you space to talk.

“Yeah, you got me.”

You grunt, cursing under your breath, once he decides to move his palm between your legs.

“You got me but-”

“Gotta speak up, sweetheart.”

He thinks he has you now.

“The mask isn't scary, It's just hot. You should try harder to reeeally get me."

The feeling of his fingers rubbing over your clit disappears immediately after you finish the sentence. He starts up again from behind, and you feel yourself clench around his cock once he moves inside you. You hum loudly, and Frank wraps his big hands around the sides of your body. Panting loudly with his cock still inside you, he tries to focus on your words, knowing, and being almost completely sure, of what you were asking for.

“You know what would help?”

You purr quietly, watching him in the mirror. Your confidence flows back to you once you notice him slightly stunted. The mask moves in the reflection, his eyes focus on your face from underneath the fabric, and you know he's now thinking about it too.

“Yeeeaah, I know you have it, Frankie.”

His grip on you tightens with your words.

“You don't leave the house without it. ‘Just in case’? Your words.”

It takes a moment, but after that moment he reaches behind his body without a word. There's hesitation and he pauses. The bathroom falls quiet and the only sound between your panting is the muffled noise of the party outside the bathroom door.

Slowly, Frank pulls out his black, military grade knife you've seen on him so many times before. The one he always insists on carrying with him, the one you knew he didn't leave at the house tonight.

“Ohhh that's it, Frankie, look at that.”

You whisper in a condescending tone, bumping your odds of actually getting hurt up just a bit higher. He doesn't say a word, but the knuckles of his hand turning white with the strength of the grip speak volumes.

“This what you fucking want?”

He asks, pushing his hand into your hair before tugging to pull your head up. He pushes the blade harder against your skin. The sting of the sharp edge gliding over the inside of your thigh makes you push your hips back again. Once you make sure his eyes focus on your reflection, you smirk, bigger than before, and bite into your lower lip with a quiet whine. With a grunt, Frank holds you down in place, not allowing you to move further back on him,

“You're fucking sick, you know that?”

He points out, and you feel the win in your bones. Making yourself clench around him, you murmur quietly in the most innocent voice.

“Oh yeah, but you like it, Frankie.”

He breaks. His cock twitches inside you and he shoves your chest into the bathroom counter. Thrusting inside you, he follows his every move with a grunt. You grip onto the edge of the sink, now letting the sweet sounds of pleasure slip past your lips with no restrictions. Your breath hitches, the pounding in your head rushes once Frank leans over your body. With his chest pressed against your back, he presses the knife back into the inside of your thigh. You instinctively spread your legs open a bit more as he mumbles something about the knife again. The edge of the blade nicks your skin with the next thrust and you groan at the feeling. Rolling your eyes back, you let your head fall forward, fully aware of the fact Frank just felt how good that felt for you.

“God d-“

He starts in his raspy voice. His big hand holds your lower back in place once he pulls back, the drag of his cock slipping out of your body makes you curl your toes.

Lifting your head back up, you watch him in the mirror, seeing him kneel behind you quickly. You glance back at him confused, not sure of what to expect next.

You gasp, louder than you’ve liked it, but you can’t help it, it’s not your fault. You’d be lying if you said you were expecting him to do his. Kneeling on one knee, Frank pulls you closer by your thighs before pulling the mask up and he presses his tongue flat against the cut. It stings and you jump forward but he pulls you back to him before dropping his right hand to his cock, the knife still in his other hand while he strokes over his length a couple of times.

“So your cock’s fucking throbbing and I’m the sick one?”

You throw the question into the air and it’s like a slap across his face. He pauses, immediately standing up to shove you back down against the wood.

“You gonna act like you don’t like it?”

He spits out, not even expecting an answer, as he lines himself up with your entrance again. Adjusting his grip for a moment, he pulls you back on him instead of thrusting forward, and you struggle to regain balance for a moment as he pushes deeper and deeper inside you.

Out of your control at this point, your thighs press against each other, squeezing him tighter than before. He bends in half, grunting what seems like louder than the actual music playing outside the bathroom. You part your lips ready to deliver another smart ass comment but the force of his hips pushing against your ass, his dick hitting that stop deep inside right under your stomach? It knocks the wind out of you and turns your words into one loud moan.

“Fuck.”

You grunt, feeling your body dancing on the edge now. You prop yourself up, watching his body flex in the mirror as he fills you up, what feels like better than anyone has before.

You move on top of the counter, move with his body when he slips his hands between your bodies to finally push you over the edge. Making him drop the knife, you grab onto that hand and bring it up to cover your mouth with his big palm, muffling the sounds of your pleasured body as he works it even deeper inside you.

“Just needed it to hurt a bit, huh?”

Frank teases, pointing out how your body gives away how close you are now, how you’re unable to keep up the bratty demeanor anymore.

“The knife got you this close?”

You whine quietly through his fingers when he holds your back against his chest. His voice turns slightly softer when he fully takes in the state of you.

With your body shaking, your chest moving faster than he’s ever seen it before, your eyes watering and your hands clinging onto his arm, you let him make the call.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Hmm?”

You grunt, frustrated with the slightly condescending tone, but still nodding your head quickly.

“Attagirl, you calmed down a bit?”

And another nod, his fingers roughing over your clit, his cock twitching deep inside you.

“Yeah, that’s it, c’mon. C’mon you got it.”

He mumbles quietly, helping you lean over the counter one last time. His hands rest on your sides and as he pushes inside you again, you whine. Then again you cry out, pushing your legs together. He only manages half a thrust after pushing his fingers hard against your clit, rubbing over the most sensitive spot. You feel your body tensing up with both pain and pleasure as you reach back to hold onto his arm.

“Attagirl, you got it, that’s it”

Your nails dig into his skin while he works over you, letting your body squeeze around his cock once it finally hits you. The overwhelming pleasure floods your body, and you feel the heat from the top of your head down to the very tips of your toes. Winning out his name, you make it pretty obvious he managed it once again. With your muscles tense around him, Frank grunts loudly, pushing into you one more time before he follows with his own climax.

“Fuuuuuuuck-“

He groans, his cock aching for release once he finally reaches it. He gives a few final thrusts when he fills you up before taking a step back to pull his cock out.

Taking a deep breath in, he reaches up, pulling the mask off of his face while watching you attempt to collect yourself.

You try to catch your breath, pushing yourself up before you feel Frank's hand on your arm. He helps you up, turning you around to have you face him now and you notice his loud breathing slowly beginning to mirror your own.

You lean forward and so does he, both of you taking a moment to calm down. Your forehead rests against his as you close your eyes and attempt to steady your breathing.

“Shit.”

You glance down quickly, feeling his cum drip down the side of your leg. Frank's eyes follow, the mask tilts down when he watches the drop slide down over your skin. His hands move to your waist, and he helps you up onto the counter with a grunt. You sit right at the edge, getting comfortable and spreading your legs apart while he slowly gets on his knees right in front of you. You hold up the mask, resting it on top of his head, focusing on his face. You smile at the red hues in his skin.

“Oh, Frankie, I almost forgot how pretty you look.”

You tease and he follows up with a scoff.

“Yeah okay, c'mere.”

He pulls you forward, slightly closer to him, before helping you pull the dress up one more time. His warm breath fans your skin for a moment before he licks over his lips. They press against your skin now, right above the knee. Another kiss follows but higher up your leg and then once more. You push your legs apart more to make it easier for him.

“Attagirl.”

He mumbles against your skin, his hand rubbing over your calf softly while he works his lips over your skin for another moment.

“See? You can be nice sometimes.”

He whispers, and you hum impatiently, pushing your fingers through his exposed hair before tugging at them slightly. He scoffs, and you feel the quick breath on your center.

The second his tongue brushes over your folds, you shut your eyes completely. Still sensitive from the previous orgasm, you let your body lead this time and your head falls back, resting against the mirror while Frank takes care of you.

You moan out his name, not even attempting to fight it back, and he picks up the pace. The warm and wet sensation quickly works you up more than you're actually willing to admit. Relaxing into the feeling, you push your legs open further and Frank chuckles against your body. Your core rumbles with the sound and your thighs quickly press together, closing around his head. He groans, tongue slipping inside you while the pressure around his face tightens. Tilting his head up, he nudges the tip of his nose against your clit and your hips buck forward, a motion accompanied by another loud moan of his name.

You cover your mouth, but only for a second, failing to keep the sounds in once he wraps his lips around your most sensitive spot. Sucking your clit into his mouth, Frank successfully pushes you into an impatient state where you know if he won't get you to finish soon, you'll do it without his help. Your back arches and you mumble his name in an attempt to get his attention.

“Frank.”

You start and your body twitches. Feeling another long stroke of his tongue.

“Mhhh.”

He hums deep into you. Reaching for your legs, he throws them both over his shoulders and digs his fingers into your ass, quickly tugging you closer to him.

“Frank-”

Your breath hitches and you gasp quietly, whining his name out one more time. You feel yourself getting closer, the sounds of the party seem so distant now you almost forget where you are. Almost, because as you feel yourself getting close to your second climax, when his touch becomes so much more intense, when your legs tremble with the feeling, right at that very moment you realize. You never locked the door.

Hearing the sound of the doorknob turning, you press your foot against Frank's shoulder in a desperate attempt to push him away, but before you can do it, with his head still between your legs, Frank leans to the side quickly. With a loud grunt, he shoves the door closed with his shoulder without pulling away from you. He reaches up blindly, feeling the door for the lock, before you reach your hand over his head and finish for him.

He hums into your body, satisfied, and you feel yourself relaxing back into the feeling.

“Shit, Frankie...”

You whisper, pushing your hips forward against his face slightly. There’s a low, raspy chuckle that leaves his chest and you close your eyes, titling your head back to rest it against the mirror while he works on the second round.

You come shortly after and with your body so severely overstimulated, the soft, warm sensation of his tongue works better than he’d expect. He makes sure to take a mental note of it as he looks up from between your legs, watching when the second wave finally pushes you over the edge.

You rest, leaning against the mirror as he stands up in front of you, hand rubbing over your legs gently, his eyes fixed on yours.

“You okay?”

He asks. His soft, quiet question contrasts with whatever the hell the two of you just did in the small space of the bathroom. You lift your hand up, gesturing for him to stop talking and he chuckles quietly.

“Fair.”

He mumbles before turning his attention to his reflection. You watch as he cleans himself up a bit, washing the wet shine off his face and drying himself with the hem of his shirt.

Reaching over to the other side of the counter, he leans down, grabbing his knife off the floor and putting it away before handing the plastic mask over to you.

“Imagine if I didn't go out and pick this shit up.”

You snort, exhausted, enjoying how he literally managed to fuck the frustration out of himself.

“I don’t wanna think about that.”

You whisper, and he scoffs loudly, looking down and shaking his head before glancing back up at you.

“Yeah I bet.”

He helps you collect yourself, staying close by when you clean yourself up and straighten the fabric of your dress before handing you the previously abandoned underwear as you both get ready to leave the bathroom.

He offers you his hand, helping you off of the counter, and you lean on him while stepping down from it.

“Can you walk?”

He asks, and you look up at him, unimpressed with the not-so-subtle tease.

“Shut up.”

You mumble, hoping and praying your legs wouldn't just give out on you and give him something else to tease you about.

“Oh yeah, sorry.”

He grabs the mask and pulls it back on his face, then turns to you.

“Can you walk?”

He repeats the question, clearly enjoying this more than he should.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. I saw how hard you got.”

“Okay, that’s it. Out.”

He gestures to the door, pulling it open to let you out of the room. You hold onto his hand, letting him lead. You ditch your shoes and he carries them for you as you both make your way towards the front door, glancing back in the direction of the party before turning back to face each other again.

“You wanna get the hell out of here?”

“Yeah.”

You nod.

“We gotta get all the use out of that mask before you toss it tomorrow.”

You point out, pulling the door open, and hear his laugh over your shoulder.

“You don’t think maybe you’ve had enough now?”

His voice cuts through the night, and you turn around with a playful smirk, feeling the cold, crispy autumn air fill your lungs.

“No, no, I don’t think so. Besides...”

You slowly pull the mask onto your face staring him down.

“I don’t think you’ve had enough either.”

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Dangerously in Love (Part 2)

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 28 Alt 8. Kidnapping Fandom: MCU, Frank Castle, The Punisher, f!reader Summary: After witnessing your murder on a video call, Frank's only focus is on revenge. But he's about to learn that things are not always as they seem... Word Count: 4389 TW: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Whump, Grief, Fighting, Blood, Gun Fight, Minor Character Death, Frank Carries Reader, Happy Ending Notes: Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Part 5 of the “In Love” series

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

It had taken Frank three days and a trail of bodies in his wake, but he had finally located where Costa had streamed from. 

He had barely stopped since the moment he had left your—his—apartment and only to grab a handful of food or a few hours of sleep to keep up his strength for what was coming. Not that it would have made a difference if he tried to get a full night’s sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your terrified, tear-soaked face pleading with him before hearing the deafening bang of the gun and your blood spraying as the camera cut out. While he hadn’t actually seen the damage that the bullet had done to you, he had seen enough bullet wounds in his life for his brain to fill in the blanks. And when that happened, he would jerk awake with tears streaming down his face.

After Maria and their children were murdered, Frank had sworn never to allow himself to care for someone like that again. It was too dangerous…he was too dangerous. And yet, all of that flew out the window the moment he met you. 

He tried to keep his walls up, to keep you out, but you quickly burst through them all as if they were made of vapor. And when you found out about the Punisher and who he really was yet still accepted him, it was over. Frank’s bullet-riddled heart began to beat again and it was all because of you.

You. The girl who would make fun of herself a hundred times over before ever saying a word against anyone else. The girl who couldn’t cook to save her life but still continuously put in a valiant effort. The girl who hid under a blanket during horror movies or gagged at the slightest scene with gore, yet pulled out the first aid kit without hesitation when he came home dripping in blood. 

He knew the risks, he knew the danger, but he also knew he couldn’t live without you in his life. But now that danger had caught up to you and he had lost you anyway. At least if he had kept his distance you would be out there somewhere living your life happy with someone else—not shot to death in a warehouse while you were alone and terrified.

As Frank approached that same warehouse now, he thought back to your last kiss just before he sent you off to stay with Red. At the time, he had promised you it wasn’t goodbye, that he would come back to you. Yet even though he knew there was a very good chance it was a lie, he never expected you to be the one not coming home.

Looking around, he was surprised to find there weren’t any men standing guard by the main entrance or on the rooftop. He remained on high alert, but crossed the empty lot to the front door and kicked it in. When no one opened fire or swarmed him, he ducked inside.

It appeared the warehouse had been abandoned for a while. Even though he could faintly hear the churning hum of a generator somewhere below him, it must only be for the lights since there didn’t seem to be any sort of air conditioner or fans in the building. But that made sense. Costa must have known Frank would come for him after what he did, and it was better for Frank to locate one of his temporary bases of operation instead of his main headquarters. 

Without slowing, he rubbed his face on the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the sweat out of his eyes as it poured down his brow. He continued through the warehouse—gun raised—as he scanned for any traces of Costa, even though so far it seemed as if he wasn’t here. But Frank wasn’t going to stop looking until he made sure. He wasn’t going to stop hunting him down until Costa lay dead at his feet.

However, when he reached the door at the end of the hall and threw it open, he stumbled to a halt as his heart froze in his chest.

It was the same room he had seen from the video call—barren concrete walls, a single light hanging down from the middle of the room, and a metal chair with your lifeless body still strapped to it. 

All of the air was instantly sucked from Frank’s lungs and his knees went weak. 

He hovered by the door, unable to make his feet take a single step closer to your limp form. He swallowed—hard—as tears stung at his eyes. It had never crossed his mind that he might find you here. He assumed Costa would have dumped your body somewhere it would never be found or incinerated it. Maybe Costa thought having Frank see you like this, to face what had happened in person, would throw him off his game. If that was the plan, it was succeeding. Seeing your violent death over video had been one thing, but finding your long cold corpse days later—

Wait. Something wasn’t right here.

You had been left in this dank, humid room for the past three days. He should have been greeted by the putrid smell of rot and decay as soon as he opened the door but instead, he only sensed the metallic bite of fresh blood. Blood that should have long since dried and lost its potency. Yet he could see the dark red pool beneath your chair was still wet—it was recent. 

Frank stumbled forward as if in a trance. It couldn’t be. He watched you die…hadn’t he? He saw the gun go off, a spray of blood, and your head snapped back—but he never saw the aftermath. Not really. The feed had gone black a second after the gun went off. Was there a chance?

The closer he got to where you were tied, the harder it was to look at you. You were still wearing his hoodie that you had been wearing in the video so it covered most of your skin. However, what was showing was littered with bruises and cuts of various sizes, layers of blood coating most of your visible skin as it had dried and been coated once more. The top layer still looked damp in some places, the color more vibrant and shiny in the dim light, and Frank silently prayed for a miracle. 

He hesitated as he reached you, knowing that the tiny flicker of hope he was allowing himself to feel could be instantly extinguished the second he touched you.  The air around him was deathly still as if the room itself was holding its breath waiting for an answer. He sank to kneel at your feet, as if you were some holy miracle he was prepared to worship. Unable to wait any longer, Frank slowly reached out and placed two fingers against the side of your throat.

For a moment, he felt nothing. Just your cool, clammy skin beneath his fingers, and his heart began to sink. But then—

Just as he felt the first weak thump of your pulse, your eyes slowly flickered open. Your gaze was glassy and unfocused but there was a small spark of recognition as you stared at the man kneeling before you. Your tongue ran briefly over your cracked, bloody lips before you weakly rasped, “-ank?”

Frank’s eyes grew wide as he clutched at your face, his fingers tangling deeply in your hair as he tried to convince himself you were real. “Yeah, sweetheart. It’s me. Oh god. I thought I’d lost you.” He fought back the tears that were building behind his eyes as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours.

You flinched as he shifted you and for the first time, he noticed the blood-soaked wrapping across your shoulder. Unlike the rest of your injuries, this one seemed more severe yet cared for and, if he had to guess, was probably where the bullet from the video call had struck you instead of the head as he had been led to believe. It was still a dire injury, yet he still felt a wave of relief flood over him. A shoulder wound you could heal from; a headshot was another story.

He stayed with his head pressed against yours, reveling in the fact you were alive and he had found you. Then he pulled back to gaze into your eyes. 

However, where he thought he would see joy or excitement, there was only terror. Slowly—painfully—you began moving your lips as you tried to tell him something but nothing came out except a hoarse exhale.

“Shhh. You don’t have to say anything,” Frank murmured softly as he rubbed his thumb gently across your cheekbone. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. I’m gonna get you outta here and bring you home to get some help.”

But you shook your head, the fear only intensifying in your eyes as you struggled to get your message across. Finally, you took a deep breath and managed to rasp out your message, “–’s a trap…Run.” 

Before Frank could process what you had said, the door to the room slammed open and dozens of armed men rushed into the room. Frank sprang to his feet and tried to put himself between these newcomers and you, but they quickly surrounded the two of you. 

“Well, look what we have here. Mr. Castle, we’ve been expecting you.” Costa chuckled cruelly as he walked through the door. “Although truthfully, I thought you would have been here a lot sooner. Three days is a long time to make your girlfriend wait with no food and very little water, especially when she is losing so much blood.”

“You bastard,” Frank growled as he stepped towards Costa, but he stopped as all of the soldiers around you raised their guns.

Costa’s grin widened. “Uh, uh, uh…I would be careful, Mr. Castle. One wrong move and my men open fire.”

“I can take it,” Frank said, stalking forward.

“I’m sure you can. Which is why not a single gun in this room is aimed at you.”

Frank froze in his tracks before glancing around the room. He hadn’t noticed it before, but Costa was right. Every gun was raised and they were all pointed directly at where you were still tied to the chair behind him. 

Turning, he locked eyes with you and it was clear you had noticed this as well. And yet, the fear that he had seen in your eyes the last time he had looked at you was gone, and in its place was a sort of calm acceptance. You gave him a small smile as you nodded and mouthed, “It’s okay. Go.” 

Frank’s heart swelled. Even after everything this bastard had done to you these past three days, you were still putting his safety above your own. God, how he loved you.

Costa laughed at the tender silent exchange between the two of you. “Oh, is this not precious? You know, she never once lost faith you’d come save her. She said you promised you’d come back and you never broke a promise. Every time one of my men came to check on her or to torture her, she insisted we’d all pay when you found her. Too bad her faith in you was so misguided.” He held up a finger and the men surrounding you all cocked their guns. “Just a word of advice, Mr. Castle that you will never have a chance to learn from: When you try storming the hideout of a known crimelord, don’t try doing it alone. You will always be vastly outnumbered.”

Frank raised his head and looked Costa dead in the eye as his lips curled into a knowing grin. “Who says I’m alone?”

Costa’s smile dropped just as the room was plunged into complete darkness. Frank immediately pivoted and dove towards the spot where he remembered your chair being. His aim was off slightly, but he still managed to grab the edge of the seat as he fell and he pulled it down to the floor with him. And just in time.

“Shoot them!” Costa’s voice rang out through the darkness. He was so focused on not letting you or Frank get away that he did not consider what he had just commanded his men to do.

Following their direct orders as they had been trained to do, Costa’s men opened fire. Bullets whizzed through the air over your heads, and Frank scrambled to cover you with his body as best as he could. You hadn’t made a sound since the lights went off, but Frank felt your hand weakly wrap itself into the fabric of his shirt, giving him a sign you were still with him.   

As the bullets continued to fly above you, cries of pain and heavy thuds began to fill the room. Quickly, those sounds became more frequent while the sounds of gunfire grew less and less. When the lights flickered back on, Frank saw that only a handful of men—including Costa—were left standing. All the rest were lying motionless on the floor where they were hit by the bullets from the men across from them. 

Glancing down, Frank saw you nestled safely under him with your eyes closed and your fingers still curled in his shirt. When you started to peek one eye open, Frank placed his hand over them. “Not yet,” he muttered. “Keep ‘em closed until I tell you to.”

He moved his hand to see you had followed his instructions—and just in time.

Frank felt the barrel of a gun dig into the back of his head. Slowly, he raised his hands. 

“Get to your feet,” Costa growled from behind him.

Slowly, Frank did as he was ordered. Your eyes remained closed, but he felt your grip on his shirt tighten. Carefully, he eased himself back until you were forced to let go, then he rose to his feet. Turning, he faced Costa, the gun still pressed against his skull. 

The mob boss’s face was deep red and a prominent vein in his forehead throbbed. “You just cost me a lot of men,” he snarled, spit flying from his lips and hitting Frank in the face. “I think it’s time we finally say goodbye, Mr. Castle. Tell your family I send my regards.”

Costa stepped back, his gun pointed at the center of Frank’s head. But just before he could pull the trigger, something flew from the hallway and struck his hand, causing him to drop the gun as he cursed loudly. Costa looked down at the red billy club lying next to his gun on the floor then raised his head just in time to see a red-clad figure with a horned helmet burst into the room. 

About damn time.

Frank grinned as he watched Costa stumble backward at the sight of Red ducking and dodging as he lay blow after blow on his remaining men. Using this momentary distraction, Frank charged forward and wrenched the gun from Costa’s hand. The other man’s eyes grew wide and he started to beg for mercy, but Frank didn’t deal in mercy—he dealt in punishment.

Pointing the barrel of the gun between Costa’s eyes, Frank growled, “I’ll see you in Hell.” And he pulled the trigger.

Costa’s head exploded as his body crumpled to the floor. Wiping blood and brain matter from his face, Frank turned to see Red knocking out the last of Costa’s men. 

As the vigilante turned towards him, he sighed. “Frank, you promised if I helped, there’d be no killing.”

Frank threw the gun to the floor as he snapped, “Yeah well, tell that to my wife and kids who he had murdered or my girlfriend—your friend—he left to waste away as bait tied to that chair.”

Red pressed his lips into a tight line but didn’t say anything. Frank knew this discussion wasn’t over but he was grateful Red was willing to leave it alone for the time being. There was a much more important matter that needed to be attended to at the moment.

Hurrying over to where you lay on the floor still tied down, Frank carefully righted the chair and cupped your cheek, tilting your head to get a better look at your face. Your skin was littered with bruises and cuts in various stages of healing, and your bottom lip was split wide. Your eyes were still closed just as Frank had instructed you to do.

Glancing at Red, he asked, “Is she gonna be alright?”

Red placed his hand on the side of your neck just below your jaw. He cocked his head slightly as he listened for a moment, then sighed. “Her heartbeat’s weak and parts of her body are shutting down.” He turned his head towards Frank. “It’s really bad, but if she gets help soon, I think she’ll be okay.”

Frank felt the tightness in his chest lessen slightly. At least there was a chance. 

As Red dropped his hand, your eyes fluttered open. Surprised to see the other man with Frank, you asked, “M-Matt…?”

Red grinned sadly down at you. “Hey. Long time no see.”

You exhaled softly in a poor attempt at a laugh but then your lip began to quiver. “—’m sorry…shouldn’ta left…”

Red placed his hand on your uninjured shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze. “No, it’s my fault too. I knew you wanted to be with Frank and I should’ve kept a better eye on you.” He paused and tilted his head “...That one wasn’t actually supposed to be a joke.”

“You two can pass around all the blame you want once we get outta here,” Frank grumbled before you could try to muster up another response. “Costa might have backup arriving at any minute.”

He wiped his hands on his pants to clean off as much blood as possible. Then he pulled out his knife and cut your bonds. Now unconfined, your body slumped limply in the seat until Frank gingerly lifted you up. 

You felt so delicate and frail in his arms. As if you would snap in half with the slightest pressure. Your breathing was still very labored and ragged but no matter how Frank repositioned you, nothing seemed to help. 

Moaning softly, you muttered, “Frank…?”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ve got you now. You’re safe. Get some rest, sweetheart.”

You nodded into his chest just before your body went limp in his arms. It seemed as if the trauma from the last few days had finally caught up to you and now that you were safe, your body and mind finally allowed you some peace.

Staring down at your broken body as you still struggled for each breath, Frank felt tears begin to silently stream down his face, and for once he was glad that Red couldn’t see him. However, by the way those red lenses were locked onto him, he had a feeling the vigilante knew exactly what was happening. As Frank passed by him as he held open the front door of the warehouse, Red’s hand shot out and grabbed Frank’s arm. 

Giving it a tight squeeze, he said, “It’s over, Frank. You saved her and she’s going to be okay.”

Yanking his arm from Red’s grasp, he growled, “We both know for her, this will never be over and I doubt she’ll ever really be okay again.”

Without another word or even a glance in his direction, Frank stalked through the warehouse and out the exit. It was time to get you home.

When Frank got you back to your shared apartment, Claire was already there waiting for you. Red must have called her on the way. Frank was used to tending to his own injuries, not someone else’s so as much as he preferred to handle things on his own, he was grateful for the help. 

He was also grateful Claire didn’t mention the destroyed living room that Frank had left after thinking you had been killed. In all honestly, once he killed Costa, Frank had never planned to return to your apartment. It was too painful imagining living here without you, surrounded by the memories of what was and the dreams of what might have been. Yet now that he knew you were alive, he was going to have to clean up his mess. But for now, he carried you into the bedroom and laid you down on your bed.

Claire tended to your gunshot and your various other injuries. Then she hooked you up to an IV to replenish your fluids and help fight off any infections you might have gotten in sitting in that sweltering warehouse for days. Then she gave Frank a bottle of extra-strength pain medication and told him to give it to you as needed. She promised to check back in after her shift at the hospital and she left. 

Several hours later, you were fast asleep but Frank could see it wasn’t a peaceful one. Your jaw was clenched tightly beneath a furrowed brow and your right hand clutched at the sheets, twisting them tightly into your fist. Every so often, you would let out a soft whimper or your breathing would momentarily become more ragged. And at one point, tears began slipping down your cheeks.

Frank watched it all from his chair next to the bed, the stabbing ache in his chest growing stronger with each passing moment. He had helped you into a fresh tank top after Claire finished patching you up. As you shifted, the blankets slipped down revealing more skin and Frank noticed more injuries he hadn’t seen when you were wearing his hoodie. You hadn’t said a word about what they did to you, but Frank had seen enough injuries like these to get a pretty good picture. And while some would heal completely, the deeper ones would never truly fade. You would have to carry these scars as a permanent reminder of how he had failed to protect you. 

“I found the perfect wedding dress.”

Startled, Frank’s head jerked up to see your eyes now opened and a soft smile on your face. “What?”

Patting the empty spot on the bed next to you, you said, “I looked online while I was at Matt’s place.”

Frank chuckled as he climbed into the bed and placed his arm behind your head. “You were there for less than a day and you found one?”

You nodded, snuggling your face into his chest. “The second I saw it I knew. It was the one I wanted to marry you in.” You paused, then added, “Just like at that moment I knew I didn’t want to be apart from you, no matter how much danger I might be in.”

So…it was time for this conversation.

Frank sighed, “Sweetheart—”

But you cut him off. “No, Frank. I know what you’re gonna say. But it was my fault, not yours. You sent me away someplace you knew I’d be safe. And I would have been—if I had stayed. But I came back—knowing the risks—because I love you and couldn’t stay away. So everything that’s happened is all because of me and my decisions. Not yours.”

“But you wouldn’t have ever needed to be sent away to keep you safe if you weren’t with me,” Frank countered.

“Maybe. But any life without you in it isn’t one I want to live.” You pressed your lips against the bare skin of his neck. “So if that means I’m put in danger from time to time, it’s a cost I’m willing to pay.” 

“What if I’m not willing to pay for my happiness with your life? Because that’s what might happen one of these days if you stay. As bad as this was, we were lucky. Next time, we might not be.”

Sighing, you sat up and stared at him, your lips pressed together in a frustrated line. “Frank, do you realize that everything you’re feeling right now—all this dread and uncertainty and heart-stopping terror that something might happen to me—that’s what I feel every single time you walk out the door as The Punisher. I never know when I kiss you goodbye if that will be the last time I ever see you alive. But I never try to stop you. I just sit here patiently and pray you’ll walk back through that door to give me another kiss. And yes, this life you’ve chosen is dangerous for the both of us. But are you telling me that you aren’t willing to deal with those same feelings you put me through on a weekly basis in order to be with me?”

“Well, fuck, sweetheart,” Frank muttered looking down at his hands. “When you put it like that, it’d be pretty selfish of me to say no, huh?”

“Exactly.” Placing your finger under his chin, you tilted his head up until he was looking at you. The adoration in your gaze made the last lingering doubts about whether or not he should stay vanish. As you stroked his cheek, you cooed, “And if I know one thing about you, Frank Castle, it’s that you are one of the most selfless men I know. And I love you with everything in me.”

Frank leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “I love you too, sweetheart. More than I ever thought possible. And if you’re sure this life of danger is what you want, then you can buy that wedding dress tomorrow.”

“Too late,” you giggled, wrapping your good arm around Frank’s neck in a half-hug. “I already ordered it while you were in the shower.”

Frank shook his head with a soft chuckle. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Marry me,” you said with complete seriousness. “Then we’ll have the rest of our lives together to figure out what comes next.”

Frank pulled you down—carefully minding all of your injuries—so you were lying on top of him. As he felt your eyelashes flutter closed against his bare chest, he murmured, “That’s exactly what we’ll do. I promise.” He pressed his lips against the top of your head. “And have I ever broken my promise?”

Taglist: @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @blue-aconite, @ohtobeleah

@foli-vora, @lucyysthings, @tavners, @merlehs,

@sunshineflowerchild789, @myguiltypleasures21, @androah,

@imreading,  @arduadastra, @infinitelydreamingx, @weallhaveadestiny, @dreamcatcher121, 

@andromacher, @assemblemotherfuckers

[rickswh0r3]

and it’s for uuuu 🫶 @sinsandsweetness inspired by your PICK YOUR POISON fic ‼️‼️

go read her fics they are so goooood !!!!!!

[the-purity-pen]

WHAT A WELCOME HOME INDEED

You fucking said it 👏

I always need titty loving on Frank.

Ktober 2023 Day 14- Tit Play

Frank Castle x fem!reader

Word count- 1.1k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), established relationship, body worship, subby-sih Frank, praise, dirty talk, thigh riding, no use of y/n

Notes- Is anyone really surprised with with one? No lol. It's no secret I love Frank's titties so this was a no brainer for me to write. Honestly I'm shocked I didn't write this sooner lol. Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

~

“Frank, I’m home,” you called out into the space you shared with him. It was late, later than you usually got home, and you were sure he would be there already.

“In here, baby,” Frank’s voice called from the living room.

Smiling, you slid off your shoes and made your way to the other room, but when you stepped across the threshold, what you saw took your breath away. Frank was laying on the couch, shirtless, his sweatpants low on his waist. Part of you knew you were gawking at him, but you couldn’t help it.

Frank noticed of course, “See anything you like, sweetheart?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

Picking your jaw up off the floor, you gave him a mischievous smirk as you dropped your tone, “Perhaps,” you smoothly made your way across the room to him.

Frank Castle’s low rumble of a laugh went right to your cunt, just like it always did.

“You know I like it when you’re just in your sweats like this,” you purred as you straddled his hips.

“I know, baby,” he rested his hands on your hips as he looked at you with pure admiration, “Welcome home,” he added with a smirk.

“What a welcome it is,” you whispered before you closed the gap between your faces in a heated kiss. You rocked your hips against his as you quickly deepened the kiss.

You moaned into Frank’s mouth as you felt his hands roam up and down your back, caressing your body with his big hands. Your own hands ran across his chest, and you smiled against his lips when you felt his groan underneath you.

“Shit baby,” Frank hissed as you squeezed his pecs with both hands.

His cock twitched under your hips as you kneaded his chest while you kissed your way down his neck. You bit down harder as you tightened your fingers around his pecs at the same time, savoring the way the mighty and strong Frank Castle melted underneath your touch. Rocking your hips against his cock at the same time, you brushed your thumb across his nipples.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he dropped his head back.

“You like that… baby?” you murmured.

“Fuck yeah,” Frank groaned.

“Me too.”

You kissed your way down his chest, adjusting yourself in his lap to reach his pecs. You nibbled your way along the prominent muscle there, making sure to suck little marks in his skin as you did so. Frank moaned your name as you paid extra attention to his chest.

But the sound he let out when you wrapped your lips around his nipple almost made you cum then and there. Frank groaned loudly and wrapped his arms around your shoulders as you ran your tongue along his nipple, flicking it hard a few times before you sucked again. You sucked hard, taking as much of his pec in your mouth as you could.

Teeth grazed along the now overly sensitive skin, teasing him. You smiled against his skin, enjoying this just as much as Frank was. Starting again, you licked his nipple a few times before you bit down harder.

“Shit baby,” Frank sighed as one hard made its way up to rest on the back of your head.

You giggled as you kissed your way across Frank’s chest to give the other pec the same treatment. You kneaded the one you just worked on with your hand while you nibbled on the muscle. This time, though, you were rougher, more determined to mark him as much as you could.

Sucking hard, you broke away from his skin with a loud pop to admire your work. A bright red spot right on the belly of his pec muscle shined at you. And it only spurred you on more. WIth a moan, you dove back into Frank’s chest, lickign and sucking and biting your way along the muscle.

“Fuck,” Frank groaned as his cock strained in his sweatpants.

You responded by rocking yourself against him, but you didn’t break away. Not when you wanted to worship him more. Nibbling your way to his nipple, you hummed against Frank's skin. And when you finally reached it after all the teasing, he let out another low groan.

A moan of your own escaped your lips as you rocked against him more while your tongue flicked across Frank’s nipple. You squeezed his other pec harder as you grazed your teeth across the bud. All Frank could do was sit there as you had your way with him, and he loved it.

“Baby,” he murmured in that low tone that made your pussy clench, “If you keep this up,” he hissed as you didn’t stop working his chest, “I might… Ahh… I’m gonna fucking cum in my pants.”

It was the first time anything like this happened to Frank. And it was fucking incredible. A younger Frank would have flipped you over and fucked you on the couch, needing to cum inside you. But this… this was new, this was different. This was just as intimate as fucking you, or eating you out, or being in your mouth. This was you worshiping his body in a way no one ever did before. It was something uniquely you, and it made it all the more special.

“Frank…” you hummed against his skin, “I don’t wanna stop. I wanna make you cum like this.”

“Shit baby,” Frank hissed, “Fucking do it,” he growled, “But only if you cum too.”

You moaned against his skin as you rocked your hips against his length faster. Heat rose in the room as you and Frank rutted against each other on the couch, your lips still wrapped around his nipple and your hands kneading his pecs.

Without warning, Frank groaned your name as his climax hit. His mouth hung open as a string of curses and praises flowed from his mouth as he soaked his sweatpants… and your pussy through him. You kept going, licking and sucking at his chest while you rocked against him faster, desperately chasing your own climax.

You only broke away from Frank’s skin when your own peak hit, and the familiar tingles ran up your spine as your clit rubbed against his body over and over again. You leaned back to let out a loud moan as you rode him on the couch, pulling every ounce of orgasm from both your bodies until you were spent.

Collapsing forward, you panted heavily as you rested your head on Frank’s shoulder, and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

“Fuck,” Frank sighed, “Baby, that was so fuckin’ hot.”

“Mmm,” you hummed contently, not wanting to leave his arms.

What a welcome home indeed.

[alatariel-galadriel]

quick little comic off of my all-time favorite scene scene in @polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup 's The First Step of Kintsugi--the dialogue t never fails to make me (loudly) cackle!

[darlingshane]

Salt of the Earth ~ Part 1

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x OFC

Summary: She was Carmy's best friend growing up, and Michael never looked at her as anything other than that until years later when she comes back to Chicago to start over. In the process, she turns his sorry excuse of a life upside down.

Content/Warnings: Friends to lovers, Fluff, Angst, Family Drama, Dysfunctional relationships, Implied/referenced drug addiction, Alcohol mention, Divorce, Pets, Pet names, Dialogue heavy. Undisclosed age gap (in my mind Michael is late 30s and OC is late 20s, but it's really up to your interpretation).

Word Count: 6.8k // 4 chapters // AO3 link.

A/N: This is set in the year of the Fishes episode on season 2. It starts in summer and slowly builds up to that Christmas.

— This was an anon request that I got a few months ago, I hope you're still around. I tried to fit all the ideas you sent as best I could. There's a bit of info dump on the first chapter, but I hope it isn't too off-putting.

Chapter 1: Best thing since sliced bread

Seconds stretch into minutes, minutes elongate into long hours on slow days like this at The Beef. Especially in summer when the air conditioner stops working for the second time in the middle of August. Any living soul that crosses that door must have a dying wish or be the devil themselves to adventure themselves to what has become Michael's personal hell.

It's been a testing year, and there's so much he can do to fix this place right now. While he waits for Fak to come check the damn AC unit, Michael tends the front while Ebra takes his lunch break.

Turning the paper's pages on the counter, he comes across an article about the extensive fires eating different parts of the country. A wretched thought crosses his mind as he reads – maybe it'd be better to burn this place to the ground and start over. He entertains the idea for a second until the door swings open, inviting more heat into the boiling pot.

He lifts his eyes from the words to find a familiar face approaching the counter. It's not Fak, but a much better vision of someone he used to know.

“Mayhem Maya.”

“Magic Mikey.”

That former thought of burning down this place disappears somewhere in the midst of that beautiful aura that saunters with her big brown eyes, long raven hair, nervous smile, and firm steps.

“It's been a while, Maybird.” Almost ten years since she set foot in this establishment. “What brings you to this hole in the wall?”

“Came to collect that meatball sub you promised at uncle Teddy's funeral, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

Ever since she moved to a different state, he only had seen her a handful of times when she came back for the holidays. Last time he saw her was at the beginning of spring, when her uncle, Ted Silva, passed away.

“I also had an interview at the new vet clinic on the next block.” She places her cross-body bag on an empty stool while she perches her ass on the one next to it.

“How's that going? Did you get tired of California already?”

“No, I love California. But I needed a change of scenery. It's been rough after… you know…” the divorce. She wasn't married for long, but she still can't bring herself to say the word.

“I’ve heard some of it.” He’s pretty much aware of how everything went down. Well, he’s got grapevine’s juicy version of the story, but he never heard her side directly.

Though Michael and Maya know each other as if they were related, they were never close confidants. She always thought he was the coolest guy in Chicago. And he always thought fondly of her, given their families association, and Maya’s close friendship with his brother.

Michael places an order for her sandwich and grabs a soda for her, while she explains she has two more job interviews later.

“Does your mother know you're back?” He folds the paper and props his elbows on the counter.

“She probably does.”

“Still not talking, huh?”

“It's not my fault she made me the black sheep of the family. She’s like vitriol on steroids.”

“Yeah? What happened at the wake? You left before I could say goodbye.”

Michael recalls the tension at the funeral, particularly at the wake when Angela Silva grabbed Maya by the elbow and took her youngest daughter outside the house as if she was still a child that needed to be scolded.

“Nothing. I barely said a word that day. Guess everything I do feels like a personal attack to her. I can admit that I'm not perfect, and that sometimes I've acted up just to get a reaction out of her, but that day she just went off again…” She pauses without finishing that thought to take a refreshing sip of her coke. “And that wasn't nearly as bad as the day I told her I was getting…”

“Divorced? Why can't you say the word? It's not Voldemort.”

“What the hell do you know about Voldemort?”

“How do I… Who took you and Carmy to buy those damn books? Have you forgotten?” Maya shakes her head. “You even tried many times invoking his name, so I was haunted by eaters or something like that. You two were real potterheads.”

“And you were just a pothead,” she laughs, stirring the ice cubes in her drink with a straw. “I totally blocked that out. We were just a couple of nerds.”

“I’d say!”

“Meatball sub!” Richie calls from the pass-through window and takes a second look when catching Maya in the joint. “Maya Papaya?!”

“Please, don’t call me that.” She scoffs while Richie promptly abandons the kitchen and goes around the counter to give her a welcoming hug.

“Did you know she was coming?” He asks Michael, as he props his ass on the bar.

“Had no idea. She just showed up.”

“Did you tell her about Carmy?”

“What about him?”

“He’s in Copenhagen.”

“Oh, I knew about that.”

“You two talk often?”

“Sometimes, I guess.” Barely more likely. They don't even text anymore. She's tried but there's been nothing but crickets at his end for months.

While Richie grills her about Carmy and what she’s been up to, Michael can’t help but look around the shop to notice, from every corner and wall, memories bouncing all at once in his direction. It takes him back in time to those days when she and Carmy were as thick as thieves.

Their shared history goes back to that same street their families have lived on for over thirty years… It’s still clear in his mind, like it was yesterday, when he was forced to babysit them when they wanted to go to the movies or trick-or-treating or the bookstore. That was a little annoying back then, now he fondly remembers all those times in summer, when they’d go to the convenience store to get ice pops on their bikes. Then they’d ride back and sit in the middle of the swanky rug in their living room and watch TV for hours. More than once they were yelled at by Mama Berzatto when she would come home to find melted colorful stains in the fabric. She would lose her shit. Carmy was used to it. Maya wasn’t, but the girl never flinched once cause Donna and her own mother were cut from the same unstable piece of cloth.

Maya and Carmy were really close up until they went separate ways for college. Their bond was something to admire. They had something so special that inevitably, Carmy fell in love with her. She was his best friend and confident. They kept each other's secrets, and Carmy thought she'd feel the same in return. It wasn't a crazy notion. They spent so much time together, everyone thought it'd lead to something more, but that never happened.

Mikey and Richie used to tease the youngest cub relentlessly. They tried multiple times to encourage him to ask her out, but he never found the guts to do it. Especially if it could potentially end their friendship. Carmy didn't want to lose that. Though he never confessed his feelings, Maya always knew. Even in her teens, call it a woman’s intuition, part of her already knew. Maya wished she'd felt the same toward him, but the heart wants what it wants, and she couldn't change that.

What was really fucked up was that she had the most ridiculous crush on the older Berzatto when she was a teen. While she knew he'd never look at her as anything other than Carmy's annoying little friend, that didn't stop her from daydreaming about it for years. It was a secret that no one ever knew and that was placed in a drawer at the back of her mind after she left Chicago.

After graduating, Maya and Carmy stayed in touch for a long time, until their calls and texts became less frequent. They followed different dreams that required a lot of attention and sadly their friendship got hurt in the process.

While she attended Vet School on the west coast, he became a chef on the east.

Maya thrived at school and work. She really went out on her own, and became the woman she always wanted to be. Unsheltered, confident, outspoken. She outgrew her shell and opened herself to new experiences and people. She loved it all. It wasn’t smooth sailing, but for the most part she was pretty happy with her choices.

And now she's back in Chicago, set on a new path and awaiting to see where it takes her.

She’s living in a house in Oak Park with her dog, Coco; Richie fishes out of her. Apparently, she got some money from uncle Teddy, and she’s invested it in a home for her and her beloved staffy.

“Does Carmy know you’re here?” Richie circles back.

“No, I haven't talked to him in months.”

“Why? Did you two have a fall-out or something?”

“There's no why. We're just busy.”

“Mike, help me out here. Weren’t these two fools supposed to get married?”

“Yeah, everyone thought you'd ended up together.”

“Man, I don't know what to tell you, we just didn't,” her head sinks between her shoulders.

“Just get over yourself and hit him up. The kid has been hung up on you since forever. It looks like things didn’t go so well with your marriage and all. You should take that as a sign, you’d never find anyone better than Carmy. The boy could really use some excitement in his life. And so could you.”

“C’mon, leave her alone. Go back to work, Cousin.”

Michael throws her a lifeline, noticing how miserable she looks every time Richie opens his unfiltered mouth.

“He’s not wrong, you know? You and Carmy… it looked like you two had something special.” Michael offers once Richie is back in the kitchen.

“It’s called friendship. You should look it up.” She points out.

“I have Richie.”

“Exactly. You have Richie. Why don't you two marry the other and leave me alone? If you think about it, you were as close to Richie as I was with Carmy. Even more. Should everyone assume you are in love with him? Cause that's what you're implying.”

“Touché. I'll drop it.”

“Look, as hard as it is to believe, there was nothing else between us. I was aware he felt something for me, but I didn’t feel the same.”

“You should give him a chance sometime. He might surprise you.”

It’s not the first time these two have been trying to play matchmaker between Maya and Carmy, and it’s bizarre to see they still do at any given opportunity.

“Okay, if I give Carmy a chance, you have to give Richie a chance. Those are the rules, Berzatto.”

“Oh, I've tried. He's not into me,” he remarks, amused, and leans closer to confess something in a lower voice. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

“Uh, sure.”

“He and Tiffany are having a baby. He just told me a few days ago.”

“What? You let him reproduce? I'll pray for Tiff.”

Chapter 2: Cool as a cucumber

Everything falls slowly into place as Maya settles back in Chicago. She secures the job at the clinic near The Beef, which is a huge relief after her rushed decision of moving back to her hometown without securing a job first. It was part of the plan all along to practice what she loves but never thought this would be the year. As much as she loved California, once her divorce was finalized she felt like something was trapping her there. And the money she got from her uncle gave her some leeway to improvise, get away from all that, and start over.

Maya is spending her morning going through the stack of unpacked boxes, finding a good place for everything, making it feel more homey. It's not a big house, but spacious enough for the two of them. The big selling point was the backyard for Coco to zoom around and cool down in her wading pool, which she loves. It didn't take long for the five-year-old pup to get used to her new neighborhood. They've even made a couple of friends at the park nearby.

A moment before the doorbell rings, Coco whines from her spot by the window, where she often sits to watch passers in the street.

“Who is it?” Maya playfully asks her dog as she makes her way to the front door.

Through the peephole, she sees Michael's profile as he inspects the porch.

“Hi,” her eyes widen as she opens the door. “Didn't know you were coming.”

“Yeah, I would've called, but I didn't get your number the other day.” But he got her address from Richie's intense questioning when she visited the shop.

“I knocked on two different houses until I got the right one,” he explains as Coco curiously circles around his feet, sniffing his pants, hitting his crotch with her nose in the process.

“No, Coco. Sit. How many times have we talked about no nut-tapping?” Maya glances at her with amusement as the dog sits on her haunches.

“It’s fine,” he snorts. “All dogs do that.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. But she’s not any other dog. I thought I had taught her better. So what brings you here?”

“This.” He offers the paper bag hanging in his hand. “It's just a little house-warming gift.”

“You didn't have to.” As she takes the bag from his hand she ushers him inside before closing the door.

“It's nothing, really.”

He glances around as Maya takes out the box from the bag.

“Wow, a set of knives? That's not nothing.”

“Everyone needs one good set of knives. But you can exchange them for something else if you want.”

“No. I like these. But I gotta warn you that I'm not much of a cook, and I'll probably use the same one for everything.”

“That's fine I can show you sometime though. Is she friendly? ” He points at the dog that keeps staring at him. “Can I pet her?”

“Yeah, she loves everyone. Go ahead.”

Michael cautiously pets the brown coat of her head as her floppy ears lower at the passing of his hand.

“Never pictured you with a pit bull.”

“Me neither. I always thought I'd be a cat lady. But I met her at this adoption drive when she was one, and she stole my heart.”

“I can see why.” Michael crouches down, and pets Coco with both hands. “She's really sweet.”

He lets her lick his chin a couple of times before standing back on his feet. Then they go on a tour around the house.

“It's still a work in progress. I'm thinking of painting a few walls, but we like it so far.”

“Yeah, it has good bones.”

“So you don't have to work today?” Asks Maya.

“No, we've had some trouble with the gas line, and we've been shut down for a couple of days.”

“That sucks. Now where am I going to get my sandwiches and coffee on my way to work?”

“Heard Starbucks is pretty good.”

“Shut up. Don't even joke about that.” She playfully shoves his shoulder as they go back to the living room.

“Are you doing something later?”

She shakes her head. “Why?”

“I don't know, thought you were having a comeback party or something.”

“I don't really have any friends here. And I don't feel like inviting my family yet. As you can see, I still have a lot to unpack.”

“Physically or mentally speaking?”

“Both,” she scoffs.

“Let's do something then? Just you and me. We could grab some pizza, or go out for a drink for old times’ sake?”

“Old times’ sake?” It's amusing, surprising and confusing his sudden interest in her. Maybe he can see how pathetic she thinks she is, and he's taking pity on her. Although, that was never Michael style.

“Yeah, c'mon, Mayhem. You look like you could use some fun.” He picks up a book that's sitting on top from the box opened by the couch that's titled — Dating Again with Courage and Confidence: The Five-Step Plan to Revitalize Your Love Life after Heartbreak, Breakup, or Divorce. “And maybe a rebound or something. You don't need a fucking help book. You only need me to show where to get the best guys, or girls. Whatever you're into.”

“Give me that. I don't need a rebound, a help book, or you for all matter finding me a date.”

“No? Then why do you have that?”

“My friend Paige thought I should give it a try.”

“Maybe she was onto something there.”

“I'm perfectly fine. Just want to finish organizing everything, focus on work and this handful I have right here.” Her hand gestures at Coco. “What are you so interested in my love life anyway? First you try to play matchmaker with Carmy, and now you want me to do what, exactly? Hook up with the first guy I see?”

“No, I'm just asking you to go out and have some fun. I know Carmy was the only friend you had here. And if I was in your shoes, I'd feel pretty lonely.”

“I'm not lonely, Michael. Do I miss my friends in Sacramento? Sure,” she admits. “But I don't wanna force anything. I'm just taking it slow. When the time comes I'll jump right in but for now, this is all I need. Really. Stop pitying me.”

“I'm not pitying you, sweetheart.”

“No? Then what is it? Where is this coming from?”

“I don't know… I've always thought you were the salt of the earth. And though we never really hung out together, I thought you could use… But I can see now that you're different, and that you know what you need right now, so I'll just shut up and back off. Let you do your thing.”

“Thank you. I do know what I'm doing, by the way. You don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine. But I appreciate you coming here anyway.”

“Yeah, of course. And I can help you unpack if you need.”

“Hm, if you don't have anything better to do, be my guest. We could grab a pizza later, if the offer still stands. Or just order some food.”

“Sure.”

Michael helps Maya unpack all the boxes and put everything in place in half the time it'd have taken her alone. They order some food for lunch and spend half the day talking and laughing until late in the afternoon when they decide to go out for some drinks to keep the good vibes going.

At the end of the night, she offers to drive Michael back to his apartment as a thank you for inviting her.

“Did you have fun?” Michael asks from the passenger seat as she pulls up in front of his building.

“Yeah, I did. I'm glad I changed my mind.”

“Me too. I didn't know you were this fun. You're nothing like I remember.”

“Yeah, I was kind of weird growing up. You guys probably thought there was something wrong with me. ”

“Nah, don't be so hard on yourself. We were all weird in our own way.”

“Uh-uh. No Michael Berzatto. You were the coolest guy back in the day, and you still are.”

“I don’t know about that,” he scoffs. “For the record… I never thought there was anything wrong with you.”

“You were probably the only one… Anyway, thank you for today. I know I said I didn't need this, but I guess I did.”

“You're welcome, Maybird. I'm glad you’re back.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Thanks for bringing me home,” he softly squeezes her arm before reaching for the handle to open the door.

“No problem.”

“You know you can call me if you ever miss your friends, y’know?” he throws casually.

“I uh…sure. I will.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she echoes back as he pulls the handle and the door opens.

“Have a good night, Michael,” she says as he gets one foot on the pavement.

“You, too, sweetheart.”

He closes the door and vaguely waves as she sets the car in motion and watches her drive away.

Chapter 3: Don't cry over spilled milk

In the few weeks he's been spending time with Maya, Michael has found himself enjoying her company more than he'd like to admit. Being with her grounds him. She makes him forget for a little while all that's wrong in his life. She's like a beacon in that immerse darkness that his sorry existence has become. Despite having her own set of problems, he's watched her rise above all that with poise. He wonders what it's her secret to her steadfast determination, even when her own family has disavowed her.

After closing shop, he dives into his stash to tame that brewing headache before driving to Oak Park to pay her a visit. She told him earlier via text that she was at Home Depot buying some paint to update the color of her bedroom and asked him to come over to hang out after work.

For some reason, he couldn't say no. Not even the storm in his head is strong enough to deny her request. He has a pull on him, tugging him hard like a dog tied to a leash in her hand, he can’t help but follow her lead.

When he arrives at her house, she's halfway done. Two of the walls shine bright new in a lavender tone as she starts working on the next one.

After having beer and playing a tug of war game with his new friend, Coco, Michael offers his help to finish painting the walls. He uses a brush to paint the corners, while she gracefully uses a roller like a pro with her denim overalls over a tank top, and her raven hair pulled up in a ponytail sprinkled with lavender paint beads. When she lifts one of her arms, he catches a glimpse of a tattoo on the side of her rib cage, leveled to the roundness of her chest that looks like the outline of a dog paw.

“What are you looking at?” She asks after catching him staring.

“You have paint on your chin.”

“Oh.” She wipes it with the back of her hand, but she just spreads the stain along her jaw. “I made it worse, didn't I?”

“Yeah.”

She shrugs it off and continues with the task ahead until the whole wall is covered.

“Is everything okay, Bear?” Maya puts down the paint roller. “You're quieter than usual.”

“Yeah, everything's alright.” It sounds so honest, he almost believes it. “It's just been a long day.”

“I'm sorry that I put you to work.”

“Don't be. This is relaxing.”

“Yeah?” She takes a step back and surveys how much brighter her bedroom looks already after covering most of the former downcast grey. “Is the color right? Do you think it's too girlish?”

Giving the room a once over he says, “it's a good shade. I dig it. It doesn't matter what I think or if it's too girlish, as long as you like it. Do you like it?”

“Yeah. I do.”

She dips the roller on the tray to cover another section of the wall.

“You never told me what happened at the funeral with your mom,” Michael leans on the stepladder, taking a short break.

“Do you really wanna know?” She glances over her shoulder.

“Yeah. Everyone does. I’ve heard some crazy stories about it. Thought I should get it straight from the source.”

“I never pegged you for a gossip girl.”

“I’m not. I’m just making conversation.”

She mockingly narrows her eyes, drawing a lopsided smirk, “liar.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna. But yeah, can’t help being a little curious about it.”

“I don’t mind telling you, but it won’t be as entertaining as those crazy stories people have made up.”

“I’m not here for entertainment. I just wanna hear your side of the story, Maybird.”

Maya lets out a heavy sigh and while keeping her focus on the wall she shares with him what really happened. She’s right to say that is not the best story she’s ever told, though when it comes to her mother, all her stories tend to have a surreal element even she can’t fathom sometimes.

That day at the funeral, she was taken outside during the wake by Angela Silva to get scolded about her imminent divorce. It wasn’t finalized by then, and her mom invoked one last Hail Mary to convince her to stay with her husband, who was also currently dating someone else. It was a messy situation that Maya couldn't wait to get out of, and the fact that her mother never offered an ounce of support wasn’t surprising, but still devastating. Somehow, Angela found that the reason for her separation from her husband was that Maya didn’t want to have kids, and that really vexed Angela. All she wanted for her three kids was to follow the same traditional path Angela was forced into, no matter how miserable she was. Her two older sisters followed her mother’s narrowed traditional values. But Maya, ever-the-nonconformist, swore she would never follow anyone’s drum beat but her own. Her husband thought she’d change her mind eventually. He was wrong. She knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which led her here, to this moment.

“Is your mom ever happy?” Michael has always wondered.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her happy, except when she’s drunk. That’s why she has to make everyone else miserable.”

“Yeah, but she’s always had a fixation on making you miserable.”

“Like I said, every family needs a black sheep, and I’m it.”

“Is that why you became a vet?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“So, it's true, you don’t wanna have kids? I’m not judging. I’m just curious.”

“I honestly don't know. I just knew that when he told me he wanted to have a baby right away, it didn’t feel right. I said that maybe in six or seven years I’d be okay with it. Told him I wanted to travel and just be us for a while, and he said that was too long to wait. I don’t know… he stopped talking to me, and it was clear that he wasn’t changing his mind, and I wasn’t changing my mind, so. At some point I got tired of trying… He got a girlfriend as soon as I filed for divorce and I got a text from Paige the other day that said he got her already pregnant, like… that was never me. I guess it served me right… I married him on a whim, an impulse without really talking about what we wanted…”

“Hey, don’t feel sorry for yourself. You dodged a bullet there.”

“You really think that?.”

“Yeah, I do. You stood up for yourself and knew when to step back when it didn’t feel right. Not everyone has the balls to do that. Think how miserable you’d be by now if you had tried to please him or your mom. You seem happy now. That's what matters.” He means that with all his heart, and wishes he had the same drive to follow those same steps. As much as he loved the restaurant, he chose to run it to please people within his family. And that love turned into a nightmare he couldn't escape.

“You know… I liked you better when you were quiet,” she quips.

Michael huffs a soft laugh, picking up his brush to resume painting.

When the room is finished, she plugs a couple of fans and closes the door to keep Coco away.

Maya washes her hands and face in the bathroom sink. When she comes out, she catches the motion of Michael's arm as he shoves what looks like a pill into his mouth before taking a gulp of water from one of her glasses.

“What was that? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It's just a headache,” looking down, he runs a palm over his short growing beard.

“Is it the fumes?”

“No, I had it before coming here.”

“Michael,” she sighs softly at his name. “You should've told me. I wouldn't have let you help if I knew.”

“Would you stop that? I wanted to help.”

“Okay, c'mere. Let's sit down.”

“No, I think I should get going.”

“Nonsense. I'm not going to let you drive until you feel better.”

He yields with a long exhale, and follows Maya into the living room, where her bed is settled askew in the middle of the space.

She takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and waits for him to sit next to her.

“Give me your hand,” she shows her palm up, as his eyes narrow. “C'mon, don't be a baby, give me your hand, Berzatto.”

“When did you become so bossy?” He slowly lifts his hand and as he lays it on top of her palm, his fingers tremble upon contact with her skin. Maya then uses her opposite hand to clip the webbing between his thumb and pointer fingers with her own and begins massaging that spot.

“My friend Sierra is really into acupressure. She says this is a pressure point that helps with headaches.” She explains while slowly increasing the force. “Does it hurt?”

“Not one bit. Is that like acupuncture?” His voice comes as a whisper as he focuses on her diligent fingers.

“Kinda. I think. I’m not really sure.”

“You don't have to fix me, you know?”

“I'm not trying to fix you, Bear. I just wanna make you feel better.”

“Admit it. You just love a good wounded animal.”

She smiles softly, placing his hand down on his knee and picking up the other. “Does it feel any different?”

He’s not really sure, it wasn’t truly a headache that led them to take that pill but the annoying rambling of his thoughts. She shouldn’t have seen that. And he shouldn’t have lied. But having her hands on his like this is straight up lovely. Inside of him, it truly feels like something is broken, wounded, and missing, and this is giving him a sliver of relief as he waits for the pill to kick in. If he was a better man, he’d tell her the truth. But he’s too far gone for saving. All he can do is keep that facade up.

“Does it?” She insists after not getting an answer.

“A little.”

“Do you wanna lay down?”

Swallowing, he responds with a nod, and they both lean back on the mattress at the same time. Looking at the ceiling, she keeps kneading that pressure point, unsure if she’s even doing it right.

They stay in comfortable silence for a good five minutes and when she finally places his hand down, Maya glances to the side and sees that his eyes have closed, and his chest gently rising and falling. She calls his name softly, but she can see that behind the sharp edges of his face and the ever-growing shade of his beard, he’s truly exhausted, so she doesn’t insist. She extends her hand to turn off the lamp, and curls on the other side of the bed without disturbing his sleep.

“Good night,” she says softly and closes her eyes.

From a dusty corner of her mind comes crawling that little forgotten part that used to harbor a lot of feelings for Michael. Though a few weeks ago he seemed practically the same Michael she knew, over the past month she’s keenly noticed little changes here and there. His eyes sometimes cast a dark shade tainted in nothing but sadness, it’s barely noticeable for other people. It comes and goes, but it tells her he’s not truly as happy as he pretends to be.

Michael wakes up disoriented at the crack of dawn.

It takes him a few seconds to remember he’s still in Mayas’ bed in the middle of her living room and that the weight that has his arm pinned is her body pressed against his. She’s warmly snuggled on his side, with her arms tucked between his chest and hers, and a peaceful expression on her beautiful face. She’s so awfully close, he can smell the scent of her hair, and feel the heat of her breath every time she exhales.

It's such an odd moment for him to have her that close. He's unsure of whether it would be better to slip out of bed unnoticed before she wakes up, or just stay there and watch her sleep for a bit longer. Either option would make him look like a creep, he thinks. So he opts to gently wake her up. His free hand reaches to his forehead to move a stand of hair away. Her brow scrunches as his light-feather touch grazes her skin. His lips curve up as he traces the shell of her ear to see her stir awake. She blinks slowly a couple of times until her focus shifts onto him.

“Hey, Maybird.”

“Hey.” Her lips move, it's barely audible.

“Sorry, I fell asleep.” His fingers absentmindedly massage her earlobe.

She's so stunned by waking up to that level of intimacy, she simply nods, as her mouth softly draws a smile.

“It's fine. Does your head feel better?”

“Much better. That pressure thing really worked.”

“I'm glad.”

“Listen, I gotta go open. Maybe we could do something later?”

“Okay,” she swallows nervously, hoping that waking up with him like this isn't just a dream. “Can you do me a favor first?”

“Sure.”

“Can you stay five more minutes?”

“I uh… I think I can,” against his better judgment, he decides he can stay for a few minutes more holding her.

The way her lips pull up timidly at the corners, revealing the dimples framing her mouth, completely disarms him. He’s always felt a certain affinity towards her, but being this close to her awakes a longing within that feels dangerous. He can’t bring someone new into his life. Not while everything around him is falling apart. It’s already hard enough having to pretend around other people.

He couldn’t do that to her. He won’t.

Michael will have to fight harder because when her arm tucks around his waist he can’t help but press his lips against her forehead.

Chapter 4: Hard nut to crack

Four months later…

After that initial moment of weakness when he fell asleep on her bed, he fought hard to elude that odd longing that has only grown into a big mass of love toward Maya. To anyone else in the world, a feeling as big as that would be a blessing, especially when it's reciprocated. To Michael, it's a weakness he can't afford right now.

Spending all that time with Maya has been like discovering a whole new planet Michael never thought existed. She's all vast, uncharted territory that fazes him more than it should. Despite his best efforts, he’s fallen into her alluring orbit and can’t find the way out into his own universe.

Far gone is that moody teenager that would mumble a few words here and there. And now there's this tragically stunning woman that looks you directly in the eye, says anything that crosses her mind, and laughs without a care in the world.

Though falling in love with her wouldn’t be completely wrong, it's not quite right either. It fills him with guilt to think about her in that manner. Moreover, it feels like a betrayal to Carmy, who’s far away in a different continent, prospering in his craft.

Michael tries to fool himself into believing that this is just temporary infatuation. He’s even attempted several times to convince her to get in touch with Carmy but hasn’t succeeded. It’d be easier for him if she were to put her focus on someone else instead of him. He has nothing to offer to her and has deemed himself unworthy of her, or anyone for that matter. If she only knew what’s really going on with him, she wouldn’t want Michael nearly as she believes she does.

Layer by layer, she’s tearing all his walls and defenses down. And after all the back and forth, he's absolutely sure she wants more than he can offer her. She’s been giving him the right signals. She doesn't shy away from it. Maya is direct and impulsive, and everything about her is fascinating and intimidating.

It’s time to either cut her loose, or accept that he’s madly in love with her and do something about it.

Amidst coming to terms with a final decision, he's lured into a surprise party she's organized for his birthday.

Michael is left speechless by her determination. And a little annoyed too for reasons he can't explain. To be honest, he’s never been a fan of surprise parties, but the main problem is that this would make things much harder for him to let her down easily. She’s carved herself into his life and the longer he drags this out, the worse this is going to hurt.

He’s aware that it’s selfish and obtuse of him for being that ungrateful that someone who cares that profoundly about him, that they would go all out to prove that. He feels like an asshole, but the train has already left the station.

Using the same tiring self-defense mechanism, he draws his best smile and brings out the Michael everyone seems to love. Not without help. There's always that crutch tucked in his wallet in the form of a pill. Being high numbs him enough to deal with the situation.

The cherry on top comes at the end of the night, when he walks her up to her car and asks if he's had a good time. He lies through his teeth and for the first time, he can tell Maya is not buying it. Perhaps she never did, but he's well-versed on her tells by now, and he can clearly see she's fed up with all the bullshit that comes out of his mouth.

“Look, it's not that I didn't like the party. It's just that I hate surprises, and I was exhausted today. But it was a nice thought, sweetheart. I just… I wasn't in the right mood.” It's seemingly convincing the second time around, but her face shows nothing but regret. “I love the jacket you bought me, though.”

Michael has never been interested in fashion, but he's always loved vintage jackets, and the one she picked it's a perfect addition to his collection. It's a bomber jacket, aviator style, in brown leather with a couple of patches and fur collar.

As they reach Maya's car, they come to a stop. She turns to him, “I know I can be a little too much sometimes. But I promise no more surprises from now on.”

“You and I both know, you won’t be able to keep that promise even if your life depended on it. That's part of what makes you– you, sweetheart. Don’t let my bad mood ruin that.”

“I’ll try.”

After a beat, without hesitation she leans in to leave a goodnight kiss on his bearded cheek and on a whim, she decides to press a second one on his lips.

It takes him completely aback. He wants to dive so badly into her mouth, but he freezes on the spot. And when Maya attempts to deepen the kiss, he finally reacts by placing a placating hand on her shoulder as he pulls his head back.

“I'm… I'm sorry we can't do this, Maya.”

“Wait, I thought… Did I misread something?”

“No, you didn’t misread anything. I just can’t do this.”

“Why?”

“I can't.”

“You can't or don’t want to?”

“Guess I don’t want to.”

“Can you at least tell me why? Did I do something wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong, sweetheart.” He wants to spill out the old – it's not you, it's me – excuse, but he refrains. Every thought and action go against every good instinct he's ever had. He hates himself for making her feel insecure. And yet, he can't backtrack now.

“Stop calling me sweetheart. You see how misleading that is?”

“Sorry. I think I gave you the wrong impression.”

Her eyes narrow, and he can see the gears turning for a long moment before opening her mouth.

“I don't think you gave me the wrong impression, Michael. I think you're too chickenshit to admit that there's something between us and, for whatever reason, you're just taking the coward's way out. You've been weird the whole night, especially with me. I just threw a party just for you, the least you can do is tell me why.”

“I didn't ask you to do that. And I don't owe telling you shit! I was trying to let you go easy, but nothing is ever easy with you. So I'll just say it. This, you and me, is never going to happen.”

It sounds ridiculous as it comes out of his mouth, but he stands firm on that statement as her heart breaks in front of him.

In the end, it'd be better for her, he believes.

[anna-hawk]

Hey Bernfolk, sorry for the lack of fun polls lately. Inspiration completely left me for these but I hope to make a couple soon.

As for today's poll... Jon has been in numerous movies and shows, and while often for just a few minutes of screentime, he's always left a strong impression. Despite that, a lot of these characters aren't talked about enough. I made a selection, and I know that the choice isn't 100% fair since some characters are part of the main cast of the show/movie, but I still feel like they tend to be overlooked.