🌺Ava🌺

content warnings | dry humping, fem!reader, distracted frank, soft!dom!frank, sub!reader, age gap (reader 20s, frank obvs 40s), daddy kink

Sometimes Frank Castle was too busy for his girl— he tried not to make a habit of it, knowing just how fussy you got when he was distracted for long periods of time, but when he was busy, he was busy. Just like today, there was nothing he could do. He clocked your exasperated sighs the second they escaped your mouth, but he didn’t have time to inquire about your mood and feel out the slight attitude.

“You gonna be a big girl or you gon’ whine?” Frank finally asked by the third deep breath sounding from your general direction. He had a book tucked between his hands, researching some stuff related to his vigilante day job that you didn’t really care to understand (he liked it that way, anyway). “C’mere. Sit next to dad while he works, yeah?”

Your brows knit together, a crease forming in the middle of your forehead as you register Frank’s words. In just a few steps, you’re standing in front of him, your lips jutted out in a soft pout as you mutter, “Just want some attention, that’s all.”

“Yeah? Let me check you,” Frank asks, setting his book down beside him and pulling you in between his legs. Your cotton shorts are thin and baggy, allowing Frank room to wiggle his finger in between your panties and cunt, collecting your arousal on his digits. His eyes widen, a delicate smirk curving his lips upward as he looks at you. “Ah, so that’s why my baby’s so whiny?”

“Uh huh,” the confirmation is fussy, desperation lingering in your tone. Frank presses his slick fingers against your mouth, clicking his teeth as you swirl your tongue around his hand to clean up the mess you left behind. With his free hand, he picks his book back up and then glances at his jean-clad thigh, offering you a spot to straddle.

“Take what you need,” Frank tells you. This isn’t the first time he’s let you use his thigh to get yourself off when he was busy, and maybe it’s not your favorite method because you like being the center of attention, but it’ll have to do for now. You keep the cotton shorts on, offering a gentle piece of fabric to separate your cunt from the roughness of his jeans and begin rocking yourself back and forth. Frank isn’t even looking at you as you move yourself on him, but you know he’s half paying attention because every so often he flexes his thigh to offer some more stimulation against your clit. It isn’t long until your orgasm approaches, your pussy clenching around nothing as the height of your climax shakes through you. It’s sticky and wet, fluids drenching the plane of your panties and the soft cotton material of your shorts.

You wince at the slight overstimulation while you ride out the rest of your orgasm, and as soon as Frank is sure you’ve reached completion, he’s got his book closed. “You’ve been a real good girl today, you know that? So patient.”

“Yeah?” you search his eyes, skin hot and sweaty from all the work you put into getting yourself off. “You mean that?”

🏷️ dubcon

warnings. don’t do this seriously 😭😭😭

I have thoughts… of pope and reader who weren’t together very long. reader definitely just saw what they had as nothing but a fling and pope didn’t exactly mind at first either

you’re four months in on whatever you are when you get knocked up. and you heavily debate not having the baby but weirdly enough… having a child with him isn’t the worst ig…

he STEPS UP. all his jobs are for you and that kid. all his money and attention is all yours. he spends time at his brothers bar only to discuss heists with them. they invite him out to drink and he flat out rejects them. why would he drink beers with his brothers when he can be with you?? holding you??

you’re put off by how clingy he’s suddenly being but you don’t fight it. you don’t reject the crib and stroller and car seat and baby clothes and maternity clothes and the food you’re craving ALL the time.

but your hormones are always getting the better of you and he tries to keep up but you breakup with him so many times. by the end of the pregnancy, you’re refusing to take him back because you’ve convinced yourself he’s only with you for your baby girl

but he’s still soooooo incredibly good to you. night feedings, showering her, changing her, letting you get rest whenever you need it. he tells you he has to take care of his twin, because of course she looks JUST like him… it pisses you off sometimes

he gives you the option to not have to work but makes sure that you know you can do what you want when you want. he upgrades your car because baby girl needs to be driven around, of course. your mattress is upgraded too because you try not to cosleep but it’s soo hard and baby girl needs a softer bed. he takes you and baby girl out to dinner and walks and you always have to deny being with him.

“what a lovely couple!”

“we’re not a couple.” you huff.

“we are.” pope ignores you.

anyways he’s perfect and he takes care of his baby girl in ways he was never shown but somehow knew just how to do.

you felt full. so incredibly full.

the thickness of andrew’s cock stretched you out so much that you felt as if you were about to be torn in half. its length reached so deep that you were convinced he was inside your chest, and the fact that you were able to see its outline on your lower belly convinced your mind, drunk with pleasure, even more that it was true.

his broad, muscular arms were wrapped around your body, and his massive frame was so close that there wasn’t even a millimeter of space between you, making you believe that you could feel pope’s heartbeat through your sweaty skin.

your smaller hands trailed across his freckled back, leaving behind angry red marks that only aroused him even more, thrusting deeper and harder into you, turning your moans into loud gasps, while the shameless sound of your pussy filled both your ears, which made wet and squelching noises caused by the amount of your juices flowing down your buttocks mixed with andrew’s pearly white cum, staining both your body and the sheets beneath you.

when his lips found their way to the crook of your neck, licking and kissing your damp skin, you purred like a cat, trying to arch your body against the electrifying pleasure coursing down your spine, but you couldn’t—pope’s heavy body held you in place, not allowing you any movement, and you were simply too small and weak to offer any meaningful resistance that the man on top of you would even partially feel, leaving you to moan like a porn star as you felt like your flesh was being eaten alive and reshaped from the inside at the same time.

your friend tells you there's some guy staring, being creepy, but you think he looks nice, kinda cute, with his flushed face and gnarly little teeth, so you invite him to hangout. he follows you around the pier, and he's awkward, but he's funny, and sweet, and he buys you all snacks and drinks at the snack-bar, carries all your purses and shopping bags, all while smelling your hair when you're not looking and peeking through the changing curtain at the boutique for a glimpse at the wild bush suffocating in your bottoms.

you invite him back to your house for a pool party and you realize the depth of his shyness when he won't get in the water, won't take off his shirt. you sit in his lap and stroke his cheeks, tell him kind things he's never heard while you wiggle his top and jeans off, rub on his pudgy, freckled little belly. you see his thick imprint, now in his boxers, his monstrous thighs and it's the cherry on top, you know that you have to have him.

an hour later he's in your bedroom, glasses knocked half-way off while you push back into his big fat dick, and he's whining, scared, he can’t believe it’s happening, that you’re soo sloppy, your pussy is so creamy, it’s all over his thighs and his balls, and he’s cum three times already, and he can’t hold himself up. he puts all his weight on you, biting you, smelling you, savoring you, humping, humping, humping until he can’t anymore.

you're riding him into the mattress, teasing him relentlessly by slowing down every time he gets too close, pinching his nipples when he squeezes his eyes shut, grinning when he inevitably lets out a whimpering 'golly'—because that's about the worst he'll say. and clark doesn't even complain, only sits there and faces your sweet torture with a small frown. he's being so good, so pliant, letting you use him exactly how you want, so you take pity. "d'you wanna come, big boy?" you coo, petting his hair. he only whines, bucking his hips in sync with the rolling of your hips. he knows better than to try and break your rhythm, so he holds back. "huh? is it too much for you?" it's sickly sweet, the way you say it, and he knows you don't really care wether it's too much for him or not, but his mind is hazy and all he can bring himself to do is cry out a pathethic, "yes!"

"look at you," you sneer, making his dick throb inside of you. "superman can't even handle a good fuck." it makes him tear up, even, and he sobs out, "i can! i can take it," but you're not convinced. you grind down om him harder. faster. meaner. testing his words. and when clark throws his head back with a loud, unrestrained moan, your smirk widens.

"i'm not sure you can, clarky," you pout at him. "you're already falling apart and we've barely even begun."

he whimpers, shaking his head frantically. he wants to be good for you, wants to hold back, but his heart is bursting at the seams. and so is his release. his fingers twist in the sheets, trying to ground himself and keep him sane, but it doesn't work very well because with a loud tearing sound, your bedsheets get ripped apart.

"clark!" you scold, but you don't stop. god, you don't stop and now clark only has two loose pieces of fabric to hold onto. so he forgoes them in favor of you, bracing his arms fully around your frame and burying his head in your chest with a sob. and you can't help but coo at him, threading your fingers through his dark curls as you bring him closer and closer to the edge. his cock twitches when you pull, and you know he's almost there. "c'mon, big boy," you moan, "let go f'me." and he does, he does. clark is crying against your chest, calling himself, "your big boy, 'm, 'm yours, yours," spilling his warm cum inside of you. and you're talking him all the way through, moaning his name as your own orgasm washes over you. "good boy, clark, my big boy, feels s' good."

— ° ✢♡ mdni, spanking(reader fucking loves it), dom/sub, fingerfucking, possessive!frank castle +

“Frank…please…” you whimper, pinned sideways across his lap with your skirt pushed up past your waist. His big, calloused hand comes down again—a firm, disciplined smack against your bare skin. It’s a harmless sting, but the dead weight of his palm has you soaked in a matter of seconds, leaving you squirming against the taut denim of his thighs.

“You patched him up,” Frank rasps near your ear. “Handed him food. You soft on him ‘cause he’s your age?”

Before you can even respond his palm cracks against your ass a second time, leaving you a raw, whimpering mess as your needy pussy clenches around nothing. He notices how wet you are, and a heavy grunt escapes him. You feel his cock harden underneath you, pressing firm against his jeans.

“He’s a kid with a target on his back.” He mutters, his thumb stroking soothing circles on the slight red mark he just left. “And you’re out here acting like his nanny. You like playing caretaker? Is that what this is?”

“No-no, I don’t!” You try to shift your body, seeking relief against your aching cunt, but his grip on your hip is like an iron vise. “I was just… I felt bad for him. »

Frank drags his hand more firmly against the tender skin of your ass, stroking it slowly and possessively. “You just felt bad for him.”

“Yes I—"

smack.

His hand comes down again, this time landing firmly onto your other cheek. You choke down a moan as you feel yourself soaking your panties even more. You don’t want him to stop. You want him to mark you, then pin you down and fuck you from behind. You want—no need—his hand between your thighs right now. 

“Frank please—" you plead, shifting your weight and arching back against him, hoping he gets the hint.

He squeezes your hip. “You know what you need to say”

You whine, squirming against his lap in frustration. The corner of his mouth twitches and he reluctantly moves his hand down, dragging his thumb across the slick, soaked fabric of your panties. “Fuckin’ soaked.”

His thumb pressed hard enough to offer a fleeting taste of the relief you’re begging for. You try to grind your hips back, but he pulls his hand out of reach. “Not happening. You earn your relief. Say the words.”

"I'll be good! I won't talk to Peter anymore! I only want you, Frank—please, I need your fingers right now..."

He grunts, satisfied with your surrender and moves the fabric of your panties to the side. Two thick, calloused fingers slide against your folds, coating in slick. Then he pushes them inside slowly, filling you completely.

You moan, trying to arch your hips, greedy for more, but his free hand stays heavy on your lower back, controlling the rhythm. "Shhh... hold still. Just take it."

He begins to work his fingers in and out of your pussy, filling the quiet room with slick, rhythmic sounds as you clench tightly around him.

"Oh fuck—oh god—Frank—´´

He curls his fingers with precise, unhurried pressure, hitting the exact spot that sends a jolt through you while his other hand comes down in a heavy, stinging spank against your ass again. It’s too much—the relentless curl of his fingers paired with the burning tenderness of your skin pushes you completely over the edge.

"Don’t stop please—" you cry out as your cunt flutters around his fingers, gushing on them as you cum.

He doesn't slow down, he works you straight through it, letting your overstimulated pussy milk him.  "That's it," he mumbles low near your ear. "Take all of it."

When you finally come down, trembling on his lap, he pulls his fingers free. He doesn’t speak, he simply drags them across his tongue, tasting you with a heavy exhale as his dark eyes lock onto yours. "Get on the bed. I'm not done with you yet."

Frank presses your legs back hard, folding you nearly in half until your knees frame your ears. The stretch burns sweet in your hips. He’s heavy over you, chest to chest, forehead locked against yours so every ragged breath you take is shared.

He's buried to the root. Every brutal snap of his hips drives him deeper, the wet slap of skin loud in the quiet room. He doesn’t ease up. He keeps pounding, grinding the head of his dick against the softest, deepest place inside you on every thrust until your body jerks and clenches around him. “Look at me,” he grunts, voice rough, eyes locked on yours. Dark, intense, unblinking. “Don’t you fucking look away.”

You can’t. Not with the way he’s staring into you while he wrecks you. His forehead stays pressed to yours, sweat sliding between your skin. Another hard thrust bottoms him out completely and a low, broken groan rumbles out of him straight into your mouth.

“Fuck—” He snarls it against your lips, hips slamming harder, faster, driving you into the mattress with every stroke. The bedframe complains. Your body takes every inch, stretched open and held open, nowhere to go but deeper under him.

He keeps grinding in deep, forehead glued to yours, eyes never leaving yours while he pounds you through it—grunting, groaning, fucking you like he needs to crawl inside your skin and stay there.

⚠︎ 18+ 𖨂 fem!reader, curious reader, descriptions of frank’s cock, age gap, experienced!frank, free use.

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄 has seen it all. Hell, Frank Castle has done it all. There isn’t much that surprises him, and being twenty years your elder means that he’s done things you haven’t even heard of. When you explain you’ve never got a good look at male anatomy, Frank offers to be your test subject. It’s how Frank winds up on the bed, laid back while he lets you yank and paw at his belt, begging to see what’s underneath his pants. “You sure this is okay, Frank? I’m just curious about what you look like down there…”

“Yeah,” he nods, head tucked against the pillow as he guided your hand over the growing bulge beneath his jeans. “Yeah, you just wanna see what an older man looks like? It’s ’kay, baby, curiosity is normal.”

The outline of his cock is visible, stretching and throbbing against the denim that keeps his length contained. With a feather light touch, something you didn’t expect The Punisher to don, he leads your fingers to his metal belt buckle and encourages your curiosity.

“You’re pretty big,” you mumble, mostly to yourself, but it pulls a throaty laugh from Frank, and your skin feels hot as his lips curve up to offer a reassuring smile.

Undressing him is a leisurely process, your eyes soaking in every inch of him as he helps you peel clothing off his body. You’ve seen him shirtless before because he’s asked you to clean up wounds he can’t reach himself, but this time you really get to look at his abdomen. His abs curve, divots lining his muscles in a way that reminds you of something Michelangelo had sculpted from marble with a toothed chisel.

Your fingers twitch— hesitating at the waistband of his boxers, but Frank is patient because he can sense your nerves. His rough hand meets your chin, pressing his forefinger under your jaw and using his thumb to rub softly, “Atta girl, doin’ a great job, sweetheart.”

That ‘atta girl’ gives you a boost in confidence and it only takes a deep breath to hook your fingers in the waistband of his boxers and slide them down his legs. He doesn’t move much, bucking his hips just enough to assist you with the boxer removal process, but he knows this is somewhat intimidating for you.

Frank has a pretty cock. The tip is a flushed red, traces of white fluid leaks and a small bead of the liquid drips down the underside of his shaft. He’s thick and girthy, veins ruining up and down his length, and he’s so hard it’s flush with his belly to give you a good view of his balls. Dark pubic hair lines the base, hints of grey hair dispersed throughout, but he keeps it neat down there. He’s well trimmed, well kept, and you almost wonder if the size of him is abnormally large for men, but of course you won’t ask that.