𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍

a litany of prompts exploring intimacy and sexuality. mature audiences only; do not interact if you are a minor. add +reverse to reverse the roles. combine prompts by sending multiple at once. only use these prompts to portray consensual scenarios.

[beg.] sender makes receiver beg before giving them what they want.

[fumble.] sender struggles impatiently with receiver's clothes.

[shh.] sender stuffs their fingers in receiver's mouth to keep them quiet.

[tug.] sender grips receiver's hair to pull them closer.

[tie.] sender binds receiver's wrists with rope / belt / tie / etc.

[bite.] sender sinks their teeth into receiver's neck / shoulder / skin.

[scratch.] sender rakes their nails down receiver's back.

[drip.] sender drips spit into receiver's mouth / onto receiver.

[69.] sender and receiver go down on each other at the same time.

[needy.] sender teases receiver about how desperate they look.

[deep.] sender pushes receiver's head down during oral until they gag.

[eager.] sender holds receiver's head still and fucks their mouth.

[anchor.] sender pins receiver's hips while eating them out.

[grind.] sender grinds their hips into receiver while receiver gives them oral.

[press.] sender pushes a hand against receiver's stomach while inside them.

[hold.] sender grabs receiver's hand to hold while they have sex.

[pin.] sender pins receiver's wrists above their head.

[straddle.] sender straddles receiver's body to restrain them.

[clutch.] sender clutches receiver's jaw to hold their head still.

[hollow.] sender presses a thumb into the hollow of receiver's throat.

[cradle.] sender cradles receiver's throat in their hand, applying light pressure.

[stay.] sender cockwarms receiver.

[breed.] sender fucks receiver deep and finishes inside.

[stare.] sender forces receiver to maintain eye contact.

[cling.] sender wraps their legs tight around receiver's waist while they have sex.

[elevate.] sender places a pillow beneath receiver's hips during sex.

[suckle.] sender sucks on receiver's chest and nipples.

[eavesdrop.] sender fucks receiver where others can hear but not see.

[praise.] sender praises receiver for taking it well.

[hush.] sender forbids receiver from making a sound.

[chokehold.] sender locks receiver's throat in the crook of their arm.

[mark.] sender leaves hickeys on receiver where they will be seen later.

[nuzzle.] sender buries their face in receiver's neck mid-fuck.

1) overwhelmed, but happy crying during sex 

2) crying crying during sex that leads to a pause or early end to comfort and take care of whatever emotions bubbled over 

3) depression sex in order to feel something good for once

4) messy drunk sex that is then forgotten the morning after

5) filming it, either for private purposes or because they’re amateur pornstars

6) mutual masturbation

7) spying on/walking in on their partner touching themself 

8) sex in exchange for a favour

9) car sex

10) quiet airplane bathroom sex

11) touching the other while at the movies

12) sex while there is the background noise of a rainstorm outside

13) being snowed in together and fucking in front of the fireplace 

14) pool/hot tub sex

15) stargazing that turns into sex

16) the classic “oh, let me help you put some sunscreen on” but then the little massage turns into something more

17) sex while camping

18) fucking in the bar bathroom and being too drunk to care about being quiet 

19) when the teasing in the dressing room gets a little too hot

man did this guy really get on his nerves. like, really get on his nerves. even though a small part of him understands frank's mentality of ' getting shit done in one way or another ' — he's all for punishing the bad guys, but where is the empathy? is that so hard to find these days?

on top of that, the guy never takes peter seriously. it wouldn't surprise him if he expects spider-man to be some kid fresh out of high school (he's only a few years off in reality). ...still. in the span of seven years, he's surely matured in a way not a lot of people his age have. that's the kind of thing people like him go through, unfortunately.

" and here i thought you were just hangry, " he mumbles, more to himself, as he watches the other turn his back to assess... whatever he's assessing. and lo and behold — of course it's another gun. giving mary poppins a run for her money. if peter didn't know any better, he would think frank's secretly a wizard who keeps his collection of weapons in some sort of infinite hole, pulling one gun after the other like some magic trick.

after hearing frank's whole spiel, he groans. loudly, and out of pure frustration. " you think i don't know that? " he raises his voice to match the other's. at this point, he can feel his eye twitching behind the mask. there's just something so frustrating talking to a literal wall. " i don't bring these guys to the cops so they can gentle parent them, frank. obviously a guy like him is part of the bigger picture, so i bring 'em to the professionals. you wanna know why? 'cause they actually know how to talk to them. unlike someone i know... " the last sentence is said under his breath, hoping the punisher didn't have super sonic hearing in his list of abilities.

" i'm not saying you make things worse, " he sighs, rubbing his masked face as a way to regulate his emotions. it's true though, he does want to acknowledge that he's done the hard part for him. " but don't you think it'd be much more useful to get something out of him? we don't even have to move him from this building, i could web him up to a wall and have the cops come in for questioning. alright? do we have a deal? "

"I'll have you know I am a fuckin' professional."

The words come right on the heels of Spider-Man's crack about leaving things to the professionals, spoken with the kind of offended irritation reserved for somebody who'd just questioned the one thing he never doubted about himself.

"There ain't a man in this city who knows people like him better than I do."

His chin tips toward the hitman, still dangling exactly where Frank had left him before Spider-Man decided to interfere.

"You think cops know how to talk to him?" A dry scoff escapes him. "Bullshit. The second this bastard's wearin' cuffs, every question's gotta go through a lawyer, and everybody he's connected to gets a head start disappearin'."

He starts down the fire escape one menacing step at a time, rifle hanging across his shoulder, his attention pinned on Spider-Man instead of the terrified mobster.

"Me?" Another step. "I don't need a badge, a courtroom, or some shrink's degree hangin' on the wall. Do I look like a fuckin' therapist?" His boots clang against another landing as he continues his descent. "If there's somethin' worth knowin', I'll get it my way. Always have."

The confidence isn't bravado, it's the experience speaking. Men like the one hanging over the edge weren't mysteries to Frank Castle, they were predictable, greedy, and cowardly. They talked when they believed the alternative was worse, and Frank had spent enough years proving exactly what worse looked like.

Then the web hits, and Frank barely has enough time to register the familiar thwip before both arms are jerked tight against his sides, his next step stopping short as the adhesive cinches around his chest and forearms. For exactly one long moment, he just stands there.

"...You little prick."

His jaw clenches so hard it looks like he might crack a tooth.

"I swear to God..."

Spider-Man's voice grows fainter as he starts walking away, already calling DeWolff, like Frank's some misbehaving kid instead of the man who'd spent the last twenty minutes doing the work nobody else had the stomach for. Frank exhales once through his nose, then he looks down at the webbing.

He plants one boot against the rusted fire escape railing and throws his entire body backward. The old steel shrieks in protest, one corroded bracket ripping free from the brick before the railing tears loose entirely against the strain. Frank hits the landing with the broken section still glued to his arms, immediately smashing the length of rusted metal against the edge of the stairs. The impact peels the webbing away where it's wrapped around the railing, giving him just enough room to wrench one arm loose, then the other.

There.

He lets the railing crash onto the landing with a metallic racket before rolling his shoulders once.

"I'm gonna kill you."

Anybody else would've heard genuine murder in the threat. But for Frank and Spider-Man... it may as well have been a greeting. He tears down the remaining flights of stairs without slowing, boots hammering against the metal until he reaches Spider-Man's level, then barrels straight toward him with every intention of driving a shoulder into the wall-crawler's chest.

*not my photos*

His mind feels beyond scrambled------ more like something bulldozed over and torn through, every thought colliding with the next until he can scarcely tell where one memory ends and another begins. The aftermath is always the cruelest part, forced to sift through whatever the Hulk has left behind while praying there aren't faces attached to the destruction waiting to haunt him for the rest of his life, and this time those scattered flashes refuse to turn into anything except Spider-Man; the desperate attempt to force him away, the rage that had swallowed every ounce of reason, the horrifying certainty that if things had gone any differently, Spider-Man might not have been standing here at all. And, somehow, Spider-Man is still trying to comfort him. He cannot understand why.

He is a monster.

"W-Why would... why would it be your fault?" Bruce asks, the words faltering as disbelief spreads across his face. "You tried to stop the monster. You were trying to protect people." Instinct takes over before he can think better of it, carrying him a step closer despite everything twisting up inside him. Every part of him wants to examine those scrapes, make certain there isn't an injury Spider-Man is trying to brush aside, to do something useful instead of standing there drowning in remorse, but all he can picture is the damage his own hands had nearly done. His expression quivers, horror becoming something that looks painfully close to self-reproach as he searches Spider-Man's mask, voice threatening to give out altogether.