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dex being so obsessed with calling you his wife, 18+

marrying you was the easiest decision he’d ever made. there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation stopping him from finding the ring, slipping it onto your finger as you slept, and waiting for you to question it. and of course, when you spotted the glistening jewel on your finger as you brushed your teeth, you asked.

“dex, honey,” you muffled through the toothbrush in your mouth, “what’s this?”

he stared at you so casually, barely glancing up from his mug as he stirred his coffee. “your engagement ring.”

pls I feel like his gut instinct is to push you away, like this is Not Right ! you're all over him though, drunk from a night out with your friends and you've been thinking about him all night and then you get home and he's in grey sweatpants????????? hair wet from the shower?? so you're on his lap, sucking on his neck, humping him like a dog in heat and he's trying to be such a gentleman but his dick hardening underneath you gives him away </3

"sweetheart, let me put you to bed, you—"

you pull away and grab at his face, clumsy and harder than usual he can't help but raise a brow at you. your eyes are cloudy but there's no missing the brattiness in it. "told you before I left, told you I wanted you to fuck me when I got home. even if I was drunk, didn't I?"

"yes, but–"

"but nothing," you whine, reaching for his hard cock, moaning against his mouth, biting his lip. "I would do it for you."

"oh yeah?" he laughs little but its cut off by a throaty groan when you squeeze at him.

"yeah," you sigh, moving his hand to your ass, "would take full advantage of you."

Frank Castle X AFAB!Reader

! | SFW & NSFW, mentions of weapons, age gap implied, cursing, size difference, oral (both receiving), overstim, face sitting, spanking, exhibitionism-ish, brat tamer Frank implied, etc.

| Headcannons under the cut ↓

i know i literally just said i was working on asks and things that weren’t frank castle but i guess i lied. it’s my birthday so i can do whatever i want:)

Truth be told, you’re tired. Your eyes are achey and sick of looking at your bright phone screen and it really would feel great to just close them and not open them back up but you just don’t feel like it yet. Whatever’s on your phone isn’t all that interesting, but your phone time was cut into earlier long enough to aggravate you and allow you to extend it well into bedtime. You really, really, should go to bed with how early Frank wakes up and how often he accidentally wakes you too. He’s quiet, but you’ve always been a very light sleeper.

You don’t know how he does it, stays up so late reading a book and then wakes back up at the ass crack of dawn. Well, you do, actually, it’s the nightmares. Really, what you mean is you aren’t sure how he’s as much of a functioning person as he is — any less that eight hours a night and you aren’t very nice.

Frank knows that. He knows at the time it is now, you’ll be getting seven and you’ll wake up with a grimace and grumble and toss around and shove your face back into the pillow. You’ll stomp around all day, give yourself a headache from being angry, then get back on your phone and do it all over again.

That’s why he closes his book and snatches your phone from your hands.

“Alright,” He huffs, pulling it from your grip and shutting it off. “Bedtime.”

Surprised, you look over to him and stutter out his name.

“I was watching that!” You shift up onto your elbows, the fabric of your shirt pulling up and pressing your tummy against the sheets. He doesn’t bother responding with anything other than a grunt while plugging your phone into his charger on his bedside table. He charges his own phone every other day and it could probably go longer than that, he hates the thing. Doesn’t use it for anything besides having your number and a couple others. Plus, if he gave it back to you to put on your charger he knows you’d be a brat about it — you’d spin around to face away from his and get right back on it, staying up even later than you would’ve in the first place just to prove him.

“C’mon,” He shifts down onto his back again, one arm propped up over his head on the pillow and the other patting your bum. “Up.”

Frank also knows you can’t sleep without going to the bathroom first. His attentiveness has never been more annoying and also maybe a little attractive, but that just makes you even more annoyed. You stare at him in disbelief for a moment, like he doesn’t do this a minimum of three times a week, and he stares right back at you with his eyebrows raised expectantly.

You groan when he tilts his head towards the door, but clamber out of the bed with the roll of your eyes anyways.

“Thinks he’s the boss of me…” Frank catches you muttering to yourself as you stomp off down the short hallway and smiles fondly, shaking his head. You’re stumbling back into the room soon, rubbing your tired eyes and climbing under the covers with a yawn.

“I want it back, Frank.” You attempt, knowing it will get you absolutely nowhere.

“Yeah,” He sighs, pulling you into his side. “Tough luck, sweetheart, time for bed.”

You grumble about it a little more, but situate yourself to be more comfortable against his warm, barren chest. It’s not long after your eyes close and his big hand starts petting over the side of your head and dragging back and forth over your arm that you fall asleep.

andrew 'pope' cody knows how to braid and he looooves doing it for his girl (or any kind of hairstyle really) ! his brows would be furrowed in concentration, he looked angry almost. but never mistook it for actual anger — he just wanted his girl to look perfect !

but then, he'd get so frustrated when there's a single strand out of place or when there's a stubborn bulk on the side, he'd click his tongue and redo it again.

"what'll it be for today, sugar?" he asked as he thoroughly brushed the tangles out.

he carved his fingers through your hair so so gently, careful not to accidentally jerk your head back because of an annoying knot.

you usually sat on the carpeted floor, tucked in between his legs. but today, you needed to be closer to him — so you laid your head on his lap. your favourite way to get your hair done.

"hmm. . . braids?"

he breathed a laugh. "can't exactly do your hair like this, baby. sit up for me, will ya? please."

"you can just do one side first then i'll switch when you're done." you argued, though there was no real bite behind it.

then you added, "don't worry – when you grow your hair out a bit more, i'll do yours."

'how's that gonna work? my hair will still be too short,' andrew thought to himself.

he was so clueless.

your eyes were already closed. he didn't have the heart to budge you any further — you just looked so calm, so relaxed. he liked that he could make you feel that comfortable. it made him feel like he was good for something — good for you.

you fell into a deep sleep after some time. . . looking so perfect and so beautiful on his lap. ♡

you’re shaving dex’s face in the bathroom, sitting on the counter while he stands in front of you. he just stares at you while you work, holding his hands on your waist. he adores your focused face. the way you care makes him feel loved in a way he hasn’t in a long time.

you finish up and wipe his face with a towel, patting as gently as you can. dex is incredibly particular about his body care—and everything else in his life—and you imagine it comes from a mixture of his military background and ocd, so you do your best to appease him.

but then you see his scar. it’s deep and jagged. completely healed despite looking like it was cut yesterday. it’s always fascinated you. it was the first thing you noticed about dex when you met him.

dex smirks at your staring. you do this so often, just staring at his scar.

“sweetheart, you’re staring again.” you look up at his words and smile sheepishly.

“sorry–”

“you don’t need to apologize. i like it.”

“–you know i like your scar, dex.”

you smile at your overlapping words, leaning closer to his face. dex returns your smile, starting to close his eyes as you get closer. but his eyes fly open when he feels your tongue on his cheek, slowly licking a big stripe over his scar.

dex lets out a deep laugh, dropping his eyes down to yours that look up at him as you lick across his scar.

“it seems i’ve underestimated how much you like my scar.”

“mmm stop talking dex, you’re moving it!” you giggle and go back in for another lick. he laughs again before stilling his face and sliding his hands down from your waist to your ass, giving it a light squeeze.

“is that enough fo–?”

he doesn’t get to finish his sentence before you bite the scar hard.

contains Frank castle x reader, nothing but fluff, bedtime stuff

Frank apparently took a little bit of overtime at work.

A little, meaning; he’s regularly home by six, latest. Tonight, you hear his apartment key twist in the lock at ten.

You knew how hard of a worker he was. Part of you wish that he was less so. Or maybe, that he had atleast given you a heads up. A, hey, don’t make me a plate at dinner. Or even a, I’ll be home late, don’t wait up.

You don’t wait up anyways. You went to bed even earlier than you regularly would, pettily, but feeling some kind of victory at punishing Frank. Denying him the loving gesture of staying up late on the couch, waiting to see him.

So, no. When Frank comes back to the apartment, even though you’re conscious enough to register his arrival, you don’t get out from under the covers and kiss him hello. You lay, listening through the darkness as his boots thunk on the hardwood— mentally, you scold him for dragging in dirt. A pause, then the sound of his footsteps lightens, work boots discarded.

You stay in the pantomime of sleeping even as he opens the bedroom door, the faint light from the kitchen bleeding through your closed lids. You listen to the sound of fabric rustling, him undressing and undoubtedly tossing the work clothes in the hamper; the pad of his bare feet towards the attached bathroom. The shower turns on. Maybe five minutes later, off. Again, footsteps.

There’s the sound of his soft grunts breaking through the silence. He must be sore. Tired— no, exhausted.

Your anger has grown a twin feeling, some kind of guilt by the time that his weight dips the other side of the mattress. The feeling only worsens as Frank shifts closer, his warmth against your back, and throws a burly, heavy arm over your midsection.

Still, you don’t say anything. Two things can coexist. Your frustration, and his exhaustion.

To your quiet groan (unfortunately telling to the fact that you’re awake,) that arm over your middle tugs, just enough force to pull you into him. Tight. You feel Frank’s nose nudge the crook of your neck. Can hear the breath inward he takes, in no rush to mumble, almost indistinct, “Sweet girl.”

You don’t make a peep. You have a feeling it’s petty. Still, his beard scratches the skin of your neck exposed by your pajama, as he lays down an unhurried kiss. “Know you’re awake,” he rasps after a long few moments.

You make a disagreeing sound, like he’s bothering your rest. In reality, you feel about twenty times better lying against him. His skin is warm from the shower, his hair damp against your jaw, and one large hand is lying over your stomach. Not rubbing, not grabbing. Just holding.

“..M’sorry.” Frank murmurs after a longer pause. Noses at the skin behind your ear before evidently deciding not to push you, laying his head on your pillow. The bridge of his nose fits against the crown of your head, and you can feel his sigh against your hair. “I’m late. Should’ve given you a heads up.”

“Mhm,” you hum. That hand on your stomach sneaks under your pajama shirt, without suggestion. His palm, calloused and strong, just scrapes upward slightly, thumb in line with your sternum. You’d be a liar to say you didn’t appreciate Frank’s touch, his constantly reaching hands. The facade of anger was getting increasingly hard to keep up.

“Y’know I’m sorry, baby.” Frank mumbles, voice all quiet and close in that way of his. “Please. S’been a fuckin’ day.” You feel him shift and there’s another kiss, now to your nape. His beard is damp against the skin there.

You inhale, deep and slow. He smells distinctly like soap. “You suck, a little.”

A sound somewhat like a huff of amusement leaves Frank. “I know.”

With the plan in mind to thoroughly scold him in the morning when you weren’t so eager to let yourself fall asleep, warm against his chest, you resolve to give your man a break. You shift, laying a hand on his forearm over your waist. Peering over your shoulder and squinting through the dark, you find him already staring at you with those tired, almond eyes. There’s a ghost of a smile in the creases in his face.

“..Hey there.”

“Hi.” You mumble in reply. That almost-smile develops into a real one, however unexaggerated. You watch him push up onto the arm not over you, and lean over to plant a gentle kiss onto your cheekbone. Why would you bite back the soft sound of appreciation that comes from your throat? There wasn’t any hiding from Frank.

He probably knew that you’d forgiven him already, anyway.

“I missed you. Y’know that?” The admission comes natural, looking up at him. He nods, barely.

“Missed you, lady.” His voice stays low, softer than anyone would think a man as hard as he was would be capable of. He squints, brows drawing as he shakes his head in some strange kind of disbelief, “Been waiting for this all day.”

“For what?”

Frank settles back down behind you, arm tugging you ever closer into him. His body is like a furnace; he’s very lucky that the AC is cranked up, because otherwise he’d be banished to the other side of the bed. For now, he gets to sigh against the baby hairs at the back of your neck, and get your pillow wet with shower-damp hair (meanwhile, his own pillow is perfectly functional and available.)

olderbf!frank who is an avid sidewalk rule follower. He is always on the outside, guiding you or holding your hand, making sure you're out of harm's way.

olderbf!frank is the type to tie your shoes for you, hearing the soft clinks of shoelaces on the pavement, stopping in his tracks to bend down on the dirty floor and tapping your leg when he’s done. Even plants a little kiss on your head for good measure before walking again.

olderbf!frank is always near you. You’re always in his line of sight, and if he can’t see you or you’re off on your own, your location is pulled up on his phone and his check-ins are hourly. He doesn’t care what you’re doing, just that you’re safe. The world is a scary place, and he’ll be dammned if he let anything hurt you. 

olderbf!frank who brings you gifts or things that you like with a grunt. Sure, he got you your favourite breakfast, but he went on a walk for himself, and it happened to be right there. He never makes a big deal out of anything; it’s just what you deserve. 

olderbf!frank who never raises his voice at you. He’s an angry man, and he has a right to be, but with you, he’s always soft, gentle. He’ll listen to your frustrations and rants about him or the world and never raise his voice. 

olderbf!frank, who is always touching you with his hands on you, on the couch, your feet in his lap as his hands rub soft circles into your legs absentmindedly as he watches whatever is on the TV. 

olderbf!frank who always does the household chores for you: dishes, cooking, cleaning. You name it, and he does it. Breakfast in bed at least once a week, and the fridge is always stocked with your favorites because he's an attentive man. 

olderbf!frank who strictly calls you sweetheart, honey, my girl. The sweetheart started as a joke, back before you guys were dating. It pissed you off the way he said it so condescending but over time, over all the coffee and late-night calls, it became serious, sincere; now it was all he'd ever call you.

olderbf!frank who is very secretive about you. Sure, he mentions you to a select few, but his number one priority was keeping you safe from the dangers he knew were out there.

olderbf!frank, who takes your heels off after date night, after warning you they hurt. He doesn't say I told you so, just undoes the clasp, slipping off the expensive heels from your feet, massaging them for you.

imagine him coming home from a long day as bullseye, killing task force or stalking his next kill and such. you’re there waiting for him just like he’s been imagining all day. sitting on your couch scrolling on your phone or reading one of the books dex got you. but that’s all forgotten when dex walks in because you rush him as soon as the door shuts.

“dex, you’re back! are you hungry? i made you some food and i’ll heat it up for you?” you pull away from the hug as you talk to scan him for any injuries. dex has a habit of not saying anything about them in an effort not to worry you, which ends up worrying you anyway, but he’s just staring at you softly during your health check. staring softly, but so intensely because it’s been much too long in his opinion. so many hours of you here and him out there. he can’t describe to you how it feels to be away from you. it’s like breaking something and then putting it back together wrong. he’s out doing things but he can’t fully focus or even breathe because you’re not there. he thinks about you all day. of course, he can and does check on you constantly. tracking your movements on his phone or just following you from the other side of the street. you’ve never noticed him which is half the reason he feels the need to follow you! if you don’t even notice your boyfriend following you, how would you notice anyone else? but no need to worry angel, dex is there. always.

you look up at him when he doesn’t answer your question and he inhales sharply at the eye contact. he’d been so lost in his thoughts of you he hadn’t answered you.

“dex?” there’s a tone of questioning in your voice but not really. you’ve grown used to dex seemingly ignoring you in favor of staring at you.

“i missed you doll.” it’s low and almost grunted out. like he hasn’t spoken in hours.

“i missed you too, dex. wanna eat?” you try your best to redirect him but he just shakes his head and drops it to yours.

“do you mean it?”

“mean what?”

“that you missed me.”

you brows furrow slightly and you frown a little. you try to pull back a little to look at him a little better but his hands come up to hold you still.

“do you?”

“yes. yes, of course i do, dex. i always mean it.” your voice is light and you’re smiling softly now, leaning forward and pecking his lips. once, twice, three times before giggling a little and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“do you mean it, dexy?” you bite your lip as you look up at him. you’re teasing him and he chuckles at that realization before nodding and walking you backwards.

“of course i do, doll. i always mean it.” you laugh a little at him repeating your words before you hit the couch and fall down on it, pulling him with you. he lands right on your chest and sighs deeply.

“i did good today, angel. ten of fisk’s task force.” you smile at dex’s little report. he’s never very detailed with them but you find them cute nonetheless.

“that’s good, dex. very good.” he smiles and grunts at that. another deep sigh flows out of him at the silence. but it’s not the buzzy distracting silence he’s used to. it’s your silence. peaceful silence. the silence he’s been waiting for all day. it’s the you he’s been waiting for all day.

“what did you do today, doll? tell me.” he keeps his voice soft and low. not wanting to disturb his peace. “well, i didn’t do too much! i did a quick run to the cafe and bookstore across the street. you remember the new one that just opened?”

“mhm.” of course he remembers. he remembers everything he does with you. but he also remembers seeing you there today. he may or may not have been sitting in the cafe as you were walking into that little bookstore.

benjamin ‘dex’ poindexter x reader

cw: noncon somno, stalking, dry humping

you’d sent another voice note.

dex couldn’t help the wide grin from spreading as he opened the notification and pressed play, tugging his headphones up onto his ears. his old pair weren’t compatible with his phone, but he hated the idea of playing your messages out loud, so he’d had to buy a new set just for this.

warnings -> ummm u need to pee and he makes u hold it? idk if that’s piss kink rly. squirting, penetration, slight headlock position

i deny all piss kink allegations!……however ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

“i need to pee,” you interrupted, moving to stand — but his arm tightened around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer, pressing your back to his chest.

“dex. i need to pee.”

he hummed in understanding, arm not loosening, jaw nuzzled perfectly into the crook of your need.

“how bad?”

you squirmed.

“so bad, get off.” you groaned, pushing at his arms but he just used the arm you were led on to wrap around your front — essentially a headlock, but too loose to be restrict any air — sliding his nose over the shell of your ear.

“you can hold it for me, right?” he whispered, a shiver going down your spine as you felt the heaviness of your bladder. his left hand slid down your stomach, into your shorts.

“right?” he pressed, arm finally wrapping around your neck to jostle you a little.

“y-yeah. i can hold it.” you mumbled, feeling his hand slide through your slick folds, pressing your clit with a pressure that made your head spin.

dex tightened his arm around you before drawing maddeningly slow figure eights on your clit, soft sighs leaving your lips. a certain stroke made your bladder flutter, threatening to almost.

you whined, pushing at his arm. “dex, seriously. please, i need to pee.”

he scoffed. “hold it.” he demanded, rougher this time, pressing you into his chest as his fingers sped. “c’mon, don’t make a mess. you can hold it for me, can’t you?” he cooed mockingly, kissing up your neck and jaw. his middle and ring finger slipped in, making your jaw drop with a soft mewl, nuzzling into the crook of his arm.

but they slipped out quick as they did in, hands moving to push down your shorts and his boxers.

“dex—“ he shushed you with another jostle, sliding his tip through your folds before notching into your entrance, sliding in with ease that made a soft noise fall from you and a deep groan from him. he hooked your leg over his, digging his heels into the mattress before setting a steady pace that made you want to cry.

with every deep, steady roll of his hips, you could feel the mushroom tip of his cock jostling the heaviness of your bladder. you whined with a squirm, feeling it quiver as you bucked your hips.

“i know baby, need to go so bad, don’t you?” he pressed on your lower abdomen. you shivered, pee threatening as tears gathered along your waterline with a desperate nod.

“fuck, can feel you holding it in, baby. squeezin’ me so fucking tight. doin’ so good for me.” he growled, pressing down on your stomach in a way that had your bladder wobbling.

you cried, gasping as you clenched harder around him, his arm clamped firmly around your neck, cheek smushed against his bicep.

“dex, pleasepleasepleaseplease. ‘m gonna pee.” you pleaded desperately, nails digging into his arm.

he shook his head, kissing your jaw and then cheek. “hold it just a little longer okay? then you can go.” he huffed, hand relieving you of momentary pressure to grab your hip, chasing his own high.

you panted, pleasure tickling up your spine with a shudder. your cunt fluttered around his thick cock, drool coating his bicep. his hand left your hip to press against your throbbing clit.

“you’re so close, sweetheart. i know, come on. you can let go.” he coaxed, eyes never leaving your flushed and scrunched up face.

with another wobble of your bladder you couldn’t take it anymore, going over the edge with a sob that was part relief and part humiliation — a sound that made dex’s cock swell — clenching around him desperately as you finished all over his thighs and the sheets, vaguely hearing his hushed coos and the feeling of his warmth filling you.

super clingy. dex follows you everywhere, and when i say everywhere, i mean… everywhere. if you’re going to the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water, he is there. if you leave the room to charge your phone, he is there. even if you excuse yourself to the bathroom to pee, he is there, following you around like a newborn puppy. that man has severe separation anxiety :(

not quite submissive in bed but not super dominant either. dex is more of a gentle dom service top. he wants to endear himself to you, make you in love with him; something he thinks he will only achieve by pleasing you. that is something you’ve been trying to tell him is not necessary—you love him for who he is, and you’ve been trying to tell him that no matter how he messes up, you’ll still love him. that your love isn’t given with conditions. every time the two of you breach this topic, he nods his pretty little head, but the words don’t seem to actually reach him. it’s like dex processes these words, files them away, but doesn’t take them to heart. like he is still afraid that as soon as he makes a mistake, you’ll dip. but with time, with lots and lots and lots of reassurance, words of affirmation and encouragement, he will unlearn this behaviour. just be patient with him <3

dex could never hurt you during sex or initiate it, but if you were into it, he would reconsider. still, dex being dex, he would still be afraid of doing something wrong and scaring you away that he would just let you lead him in doing it. like when he’s thrusting so deep in you that your legs are shaking, and you gently intertwine your palm with the back of his hand, guiding it to your throat… dex won’t admit it, but it kinda really fucking turns him on.

lowkey likes watching you sleep. it’s hella creepy, he knows, and it’s why he’ll always do this in secret. it’s something he’s embarrassed of, something he doesn’t want you to ever find out. but he’s just so fond of your sleeping facial expressions. most of the time, he just admires the way you look during your sleep, relaxed and comfortable and entirely at peace. privately, he thinks it’s so adorable.

dex is sort of like a crow in his love. he’ll rarely say the words “i love you”, but he will shower you with gifts and buy you things that remind him of you the same way some crows bring their favourite humans trinkets. he’ll dance around it, too. like when you’re coming home, you see this inconspicuous, tiny thing on the table. no note, no previous text from dex, no nothing. it’s just there. and when dex comes home, and you’ve unwrapped it and are squealing with joy as you give him kisses and hugs, he’ll act clueless. dropping words like, “huh… hasn’t that been sitting on the table since yesterday?”.

dex is no stranger to feeling alone. it is because of this that he always makes sure to check in on you. usually, when you wake up, he’s already gone, but there’s traces of him everywhere: a little ‘good morning’ note next to your bedside table or a breakfast on a plate in the kitchen, still warm and fresh. during work, he often sends you texts. it’s a common occurrence for your phone to light up with a little ‘ping’ during your shift, with a super dry, robotic and vaguely cryptic text like “requesting update.”, and even though he writes like he’s drafting a professional email to his supervisor, it makes you smile. it shows you dex cares, and boy, if only you know how much he cares—the things he would do for you.

all in all: dex is the best boyfriend ever. he comes with a lot of perks like, he’s surprisingly good at fixing stuff and repairing things, and, of course, the fact that he’s super, incredibly, out-of-this-world level handsome.

but you shake your head rapidly and say “no ,hmph” jack thinks he’s misheard, so he asks again “come on baby , i can feel how close you are ,cum for me ,cum for jackie” but all he gets in return are your tear-filled eyes, a pouting mouth and another shake of the head.

and it’s all because a few minutes earlier he was being mean and teased you, so now you’re determined to upset him, and jack gives in straight away. he pulls you close to his massive body and whispers into your hair how sorry he is and that "daddy will never do that again" , while his cock assaults your puffy and overstimulated pussy, making you squirt within seconds...oh i'm so wet