neighbor/handyman!frank castle x f!reader
cw: smut, fingering, pet names | 1.2k words | requested and proofread by @solarsimss
| part 1 |
Frank froze. For a man who had stared down bullets and walked through hell without blinking, the sudden heat of your breath against his chest rocked him like a blow to the gut. His entire body went rigid, the muscles in his arms locking tight in their crossed embrace.
For about three seconds, there was only the sound of the refrigerator humming and the distant traffic outside. His dark eyes went wide, pupils blown until they nearly swallowed the color of his irises.
Frank wasnât flustered in the way a schoolboy would be, not stammering or stuttering, turning redâŚnone of that. But there was somethingâŚa raw, unguarded shock in the way his jaw had clenched. Frank swore that he read you like an open book. For months, he had spent thinking you were a steady, bright light that kept his grim world from going pitch black. In all the time he spent coming over and doing little odd jobs, never did he expect to turn a page to a chapter like this.
âFor fucks sake dollâŚâ he rasped, voice dropping slightly before he regained his composure.
He didnât push you away. Instead, his hands still a tad wet from replacing the washer in your kitchen sink, found their way to your waist. His grip wasnât gentle, nothing Frank did was gentle. It had a possessive edge to it. He pulled you flush against him, feeling the soft curve of your body against the unforgiving hard planes of his chest. The scent of your fruity floral perfume on your skin, mixing with the metallic tang of his tools and the faint smell of gunpowder that seemed to be baked into his.
âYouâre playinâ with fire, sweetheart.â he practically growled, his voice dropping to a freakishly low register. âYou have no clue what kinda man I am when I stop playinâ nice.â
âSo you telling me you never thought about it?â you hummed, curling the end of your sentence into a question.
âBending me over that leaky sink? Pinning me down on that cabinet with the creaky hinges? Folding me up in that bed? The same bed with the brand new frame and headboard you put together for me?â you whispered, lips curving into a smile against the shell of his ear. You were painting the filthiest of images in Frankâs mind that made Fifty Shades look like a PG-13, Disney Channel coming of age story.
âTell meâŚTell me Frank.â you pleaded, voice barely above a whisper. âTell me you never once thought about hiking my oversized shirts that fall shorter and shorter on me every time you come over. That you never once looked at me in them and thought about fucking me silly on every surface of this shitty ass apartment.â you said, voice low and through gritted teeth.
âCome on FrankâŚâ you purred his name. âYouâve never wanted to screw my brains outâŚmake me scream so loud the neighbors and everyone on the block knows how deep in me you are?â you peppered open mouthed kisses to the column of his throat, starting from that spot below his ear down to his pulse point.
âIf you can say youâve never thought about it at least onceâŚIâll drop it.â
Frankâs breath audibly hitched when your lips grazed his throat, a sound that was almost primal. The restraint he carefully constructed didnât just crack, it shattered completely. Those images you painted werenât just fantasies, they were real life urges he managed by the grace of self-control to suppress every time he watched you move around in those tiny ass shorts and oversized band tees you always wore.
His fingers dug into your hips, his thumbs tracing little circles on your hip bone. He wasnât thinking about honor codes or restraint anymore. âYâwant the truth sweetheart?â he murmured, his Queens accent thicker than cold oatmeal.
He grabbed you by the back of the neck, not painfully, just sudden. An overwhelming dominance that forced your head back making you look him in the eyes. âIâve thought about it since the day I fucking met you. How easy it you be to flip you around that counter, to feel you shaking under meâŚIâve thought about all the ways I could make you scream until your throat is raw.â
His grip tightened, pulling you two inches apart. âIf we start this doll, I ainât stopping until you canât walk straight.â
Finally shedding yourself of that âgood girlâ neighbor act. Your hand snaked down his torso, stopping to cup and palm at the crotch of his denim jeans. You had an idea he was hung. He just kinda walked like it was heavy, but thisâŚthe bulge you felt. That was something that could only be explained as otherworldly. And the catch was, he wasnât even hard yet.
Your eyes widened briefly, not even a full second, but you contained your surprise. Nothing got past Frank, he just smirked knowing.
âWhatâs the matter sweetheart? Bit off more than you can chew?â he gave a devilish grin. Frank knew he was huge. He reveled in the reactions to his size, and yours by far was his favorite.
âFuck you Frank.â you scoffed, with no real offense to it. You werenât that shocked by it. Of course that was a lie youâve told yourself. The biggest you remember was barely 6 inches, you only tolerated it because it had a little girth to it. But overall it was still a shitty lay.
âOh itâs fuck me now baby girl? Youâre more than welcome to.â he gave you the laziest, cockiest smile ever. Pushing his hand past the waistband of your shorts. When his fingers found you slick, swollen, and completely unshielded underneath, he whistled.
âBold.â
Frank didnât wait, the slip of a moan was the permission he was waiting for. His breath came out as a ragged hiss. The contact was electrifying; he could feel how ready you were, how the heat of you coated his fingers.
âFuck mamaâŚâ he rumbled, the words vibrating against your lips as he claimed them. âYouâre soaking.â
He didnât ease in, Frank Castle didnât do anything halfway. His fingers moved with a ruthless, practiced efficiency, he bullied your weeping cunt. He wasnât just fingering you, he was exploring you, learning your body. Finding every sensitive nerve and pressing against it until your knees buckled on that counter. He hooked one arm around your waist to keep you upright, keeping your hips pressed hard against his hand so he could feel every spasm of your muscles.
Frank pulled back from your lips, buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling you like a man starved. His stubble scraped against your skin in a way that was both irritating and intoxicating.
âThis what you wanted?â he growled against your pulse point, fingers working faster, finding the angle that made your breath catch in your throat. âI wanted to see you back that talk up, all those pretty pictures you was paintinâ.â he said biting at the column of your throat. You whined, writhing under his ministrations. The resolve you had prior, fading, you bit down on your bottom lip trying to contain yourself.
âLook at you, donât tell youâre already falling apart on me?â he crooned. âWhat was all that you were talking mama?â
