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The diner parking lot is half-full, the colorful light from the neon sign casting color over the inside of Frank’s truck. His truck is parked way in the back, under the only tree that still has leaves, far enough from the entrance that no one walking out is going to notice you two.
You’re in the passenger seat, skirt shoved up around your hips, one of his big hands gripping your thigh to hold you open while the other works between your legs. Two thick fingers are already buried inside you, curling slow and deep, the wet sound of it obscenely loud in the quiet. Every time he drags them out, your cunt clenches around nothing, and he pushes back in like he’s got all the time in the world.
“Fuck, look at you,” he mutters, eyes fixed on where his fingers disappear into you. “Dripping all over my seats. Your old man would lose his mind if he knew what I was doing to his little girl.”
Your phone starts buzzing on the dash.
Dad.
You reach for it on instinct, but Frank catches your wrist and pins it down to the seat. He doesn’t even slow the rhythm of his fingers. If anything, he goes harder, scissoring them open so you feel every stretch.
“Leave it,” he says, voice low and rough. The phone keeps vibrating, screen lighting up as your dad kept calling. Frank glances at it, then back at your face, and a mean little smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “He’s probably wondering where you are. Wondering why you’re not home yet. Meanwhile you’re over here getting this pussy fucked by my fingers in my truck like a desperate little thing.”
“S-stop… hnn” You plead, a little embarrassed by his words.
The call goes to voicemail. The phone goes quiet for three seconds—then starts buzzing with texts. You can make them out from where you’re pinned.
Sweetheart where are you ?
When are you coming home ?
Call me I’m getting worried ?
Frank’s thumb finds your clit and starts rubbing tight, filthy circles. You bite your lip to suppress any moans from coming out, you didn’t want anyone to see you like this. Your hips jerking against his hand, grinding against his palm. He’s watching you fall apart and clearly loving every second of it.
“F-Frank… ah—” You bite your lip hard, but it doesn’t stop the next soft, broken sound. “Mmmph…”
“You gonna answer this time?” he asks, almost conversational, even as he stretches your pussy deeper with his fingers. The stretch punches a soft, broken sound out of you.
“Or you just gonna let him keep calling while I ruin this pretty cunt?”
You shake your head, another needy moan falls from your lips. Frank leans in, mouth brushing your ear, fingers never stopping.
“Good girl. Let him worry. Let him sit there wondering where his daughter is while she’s getting her pussy played with by the guy who’s supposed to look out for her.” His voice drops even lower, rougher.
“Bet he’d never guess you’re this wet for me. Bet he’d never guess how easy you open up when I get my hands on you.”
The phone buzzes again. Third call. Frank glances at it, then deliberately curls his fingers against that spot that makes your thighs shake. You’re dripping down his wrist now, soaking the seat, the wet sounds of him fingering you almost louder than the ringing.
“He’s worried,” Frank murmurs, amused. “Must really want to know where you are. Shame you’re a little busy right now.” He pumps his fingers faster, the wet squelch filthy and constant. “Busy trying not to come all over my hand in a public parking lot.”
Your head falls back against the seat. You’re so close it hurts. Frank knows it—he can feel you fluttering around his fingers—and he doesn’t let up for a second. His free hand slides up under your shirt, rough palm dragging up your stomach to cup your breast through your bra and squeeze.
“Ah— Frank…” Your voice is shaky, half-desperate already. “It feels… nnh…”
“That’s it,” he growls. “Ride my fingers. Show me how bad you need it. Your dad can leave as many voicemails as he wants. You’re not going anywhere until I say so.”
The phone finally goes silent. Frank doesn’t even glance at it this time. He’s too focused on the way your cunt is clenching around him, the way your hips are rocking to meet every thrust of his hand. He leans down and bites the side of your neck, just hard enough to mark, and then he’s talking right against your skin.
“Next time he calls, maybe I’ll answer. Tell him you’re with me. Tell him I’m taking real good care of you.” His fingers drive in deep and stay there, grinding against that perfect spot while his thumb works your clit mercilessly. He chuckles against your neck, “Wouldn’t even be a lie.”
You’re trembling, thighs locked around his forearm, so close you can barely breathe. Frank’s watching your face like it’s the only thing in the world that matters, eyes dark and hungry.
“Frank… m’gonna— Don’t stop, please don’t stop— ”
“Come on my fingers,” he orders, voice like gravel. “Right here in this parking lot. Let me feel it. And when you’re done, I’ll drive you to your dad and you can act like nothing happened.”
His fingers curl one more time, hard and precise, then you shatter.
You come with a broken little cry, clamping down around his fingers so tight he groans. He works you through it, slower now but just as deep, milking every last pulse out of you until you’re twitching and oversensitive. Only then does he ease his fingers out, shiny and soaked, and bring them up to your mouth.
“Clean them off,” he says quietly. You take his fingers in your mouth and whimper as he shoves his fingers deeper, making you gag slightly.
Your phone lights up one more time on the dash—Dad, again—but Frank just reaches over, silences it, and pockets it like it belongs to him.
“He can wait.” he says, starting his truck.
tag list ; @emmaisafarthead , @eeuthymiia , @danyiisstuff , @prrincessbabydoll , @izukus-wife , @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing , @mattchal0tve , @1elianae , @skzlover143
summary: after the death of your parents you have to take on their role at the High Family annual celebrations but you have no idea what kind of family you were born into. Titus is well aware of who you are and will stop at nothing to get his hands on you
content/warnings: inappropriate relationship, unspecified age gap, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink, pet names, death, murder, human sacrifice, virgin!reader, no use of y/n NSFW + MDNI! 18+ ONLY!
wc: 3.5k
notes: sorry this is darker than what I usually write but it felt right for our boy Titus...also like suspend your disbelief okay, they get married right away!
Titus remembers the first time he saw you. You were with your parents, now an adult, you were being newly introduced to the world of Mr Le Bail. But they sheltered you, Titus remembers that. You really had no idea what kind of family you were born into.
They sheltered you from sacrifices and hunts. Until a car crash tragically ended their lives. And now you were the head of the family. Which means that you have to attend all the major ceremonies. And that's why you are standing in the Lodge on a Midsummer's evening in a beautiful white dress. You like a sacrificial lamb. But no, you're not the sacrifice tonight. That would never do.
Titus watches as you clutch your champagne flute and look around the room in confusion. He walks over to you, well aware that he is one of the most intimidating presences in the room. He notices how you wilt before him. Nerves taking over your body.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asks.
It's his family who are hosting the party afterall. He has to be a good host. He can feel his twin sister, Ursula's, eyes on him. What is he doing?
You smile shyly at him and nod your head.
"Of course, Mr Danforth. Thank you so much for inviting me. I know you were friends with my parents," you say.
"I'm sorry for your loss," Titus responds.
He's not. He'll get to see a lot more of you now that you have to attend the ceremonies.
"Is this your first Midsummer ceremony?" he asks.
You pause before quirking your lips, "Ceremony?"
Titus chuckles to himself. Oh your parents really did not clue you in on anything. His eyes scan your outfit, pretty dress and heels. You look good enough to eat...but it doesn't really work for the hunt that is about to take place.
A midsummer sacrifice is due. Sometimes that is delivered right to the altar, a throat sliced and the blood drawn in seconds. But the Danforths like the drama of a chase through the woods. The sacrifice is never going to escape. But the adrenaline is worth it. But there's no way you can chase through the forest in the outfit you're wearing.
"Did your parents not explain?" Titus queries with a cock of his head. His tone more mocking than sweet.
You shake your head but before the older man in front of you can explain a horn sounds out. You jump, your hand reaching out for the Danforth heir.
Titus preens when you grip him for stability. Oh, his precious lamb. He'll take care of you.
Ursula's voice trills out, "Come along, Titus."
"Where are we going?" you ask as you follow him like a lost puppy.
Titus doesn't want to ruin your innocence. But this is the reality of this life, the life you were born into. He wants to offer to allow you to stay in the Lodge. However, he can hear his sister remind him that all families must take part in the festivities.
"Out to the woods," he simply gruffs out.
You try to keep up with him. You've been watching him for years. He's so handsome, so off-limits. But his strides are longer than yours and you're wearing heels. You thought you were just attending a party. But you're traipsing out into the chilly Midsummer air and out to the woods. And you gasp when you see a figure in front of you. A man bound on his knees and blindfolded.
"What is this?" you breathe, almost to yourself.
You flinch when you see the way Titus' face lights up at the sight before him. Another horn sounds and the bound man's blindfold is pulled off. In a split second he takes off running.
You grip Titus' arm, as he is only person who has spoken to you all night.
"What's going on?" you desperately beg.
He looks at you with a softness now, "Oh my little lamb, the hunt. You must know about our traditions?"
You simply shake your head as another horn goes off. These stupid horns!
"You have to catch him, little lamb."
And with that, Titus stomps off into the forest. You look around as everyone else takes off. There is no way you're doing this. You turn on your heels and start to rush back to the Lodge. But a man in robes stops you.
"Ma'am, it is in your contract that you must take part in the hunt. You are the head of your family, the only person able to represent your lineage. If you don't do this, well, Mr Le Bail won't be happy," the man says as he clutches a huge leatherbound book to his chest.
"Who is Mr Le Bail?" you ask with huge eyes.
The man gives you a look that you can only describe as pity.
"Run...that way," he simply says pointing towards the forest. "Or it won't just be one sacrifice tonight."
You whimper before you do as he says. Your heart is racing and you can feel tears prick your eyes. You have no intention of killing anyone if that's what the robed man is suggesting. But you don't want to die either. So you take your chances in the woods. Until you come face to face with the, well, sacrifice.
"You're not gonna kill me, bitch," he snarls as he lunges at you.
You fall onto the leaf-covered ground with the strange man on top of you. Oh God, he's going to kill you. You're going to die. You scream out as his body becomes even heavier on you and something wet and hot is seeping over you. Your eyes open to see the full moon overhead, illuminating another figure. Titus is standing there, his warhammer dug deep into the back of the man who's entire weight is now on you.
Titus kicks the body off you, allowing you to scramble to your feet. Your white dress stained with blood. Titus feels the stir of his cock in his pants at the sight before him. His beautiful sacrificial lamb.
"Thank you," you gasp, rushing into his arms.
He wraps his thick arms around you, kissing the top of your head. Oh his precious girl. He isn't going to let anything bad happen to you. The fact you don't flinch when his lips press to your hair just emboldens him.
He breathes your name after a moment and you look up at him.
"You're not a hunter, sweet girl," he tells you, smoothing down your hair. And you shake your head as tears finally roll down your cheeks.
"You know there's a way to exclude you from the hunts. But...But it's quite the step."
You look at him, doe-eyed and willing.
"If you married someone from the families here tonight, you would be a member of their family. And you wouldn't have to hunt or attend Mr La Bail's ceremonies," he says, as he stroke the tears away from your cheek.
"Marry?" you echo.
Titus coos and nods his head, "Yes, little lamb. Marriage is the only way. Join a new family."
"Who would marry me, Mr Danforth?" you ask, your voice still shaky.
He chuckles, "Well, I'm sure there are so many options for you. But there is only one correct family to join. The Danforths are the most powerful. We hold the High Seat of the Council. Become a Danforth, rule the world, little lamb."
He can feel you shiver against him. The idea of the power going straight through your body.
"Marry you?" you ask then.
He nods his head in return. He knows he's much older than you. He knows that a beauty like you deserves a proper proposal. But he's wanted you since he saw you, and he has the opportunity now.
"When?" you continue.
"Well everyone is here tonight. I could make you a blushing bride right now," he all but growls as his grip on you tightens.
You whimper at the intensity of it all. You should run. You should push him away. This is crazy. You just watched him kill a man. And now he wants to marry you. You don't even know this man. You've only met him a handful of times.
But you don't do any of that. Instead, you let Titus draw you towards him. Let him press his lips against yours, gasp out at the taste of him. Titus growls out in response. He walks you back, pressing your back against the rough bark of a tree. He's all but rutting against you in the forest, blood still hot on your dress.
It takes all of his strength to pull away from you. This is not how he's going to take you for the first time. No. No. He can wait until his ring is heavy on your hand.
And the best part of the wedding is that you won't have to play some stupid game. No. You're already a follower of Mr La Bail. You will just be Titus'.
He takes your hand and walks you back towards the Lodge, finding the man in the robes. Titus simply calls him The Lawyer. You're whisked upstairs and you are bathed in lavender water. Your hair fixed, as is your tear-ruined makeup. Your white dress is replaced with a lavish black one. And you meet Titus underground in front of a bloodstained altar. You don't comment on this. You're too caught up in the idea of being his wife.
While Titus has watched you year after year, you have been just as enthralled with him. Your father tutted about what a strange family the Danforths were. Made salacious comments about why the twins never married. But you saw Titus. Saw how handsome he was. How, well, needy he was. And you wanted to give everything to him.
And with two words, rings placed on fingers and another searing kiss you shed your old skin and became a Danforth. Mrs Danforth. The wife of the most powerful man in the world. Although you weren't aware of that. Your parents truly had shielded you from the realities of the deals they had made. Even though you were a grown woman.
Ursula had cornered her twin brother earlier, scolding him for turning the night into his twisted plan. How could he marry a girl he didn't even know? She spat the word girl, letting him know she was unhappy with the obvious age gap between the two of you. But Titus would not be cowed by his sister. Not when he was finally getting the one thing that he wanted.
You.
Being a Danforth came with traditions and Titus had grown to love keeping traditions alive. So after he was allowed to kiss his bride, he had one thought in mind - consummating the marriage.
He carries you across the threshold of his bedroom in the Lodge. You giggle at how easily he hauls you into his arms. He places you back down on your feet and circles you like a wolf circling its prey.
"You look like a vision," he tells you as he comes back again to stand in front of you.
The black dress isn't what you envisioned for your wedding day but none of the night has been what you planned. You didn't intend to walk out of the party with a husband. But Titus had bewitched you. You weren't sure you could say no to him ever.
"But the dress really needs to come off," he says with a tut.
You move your hands to start to undo the ties at the front of the corset but he swats you away. Instead he pulls a knife from under his jacket and presses the tip under your chin. Your lip quivers as you look at him. Surely he didn't do all of this just to kill you?
You try not to think about the heat that is blossoming in your stomach at his action.
He hums as he meets your eyes before dragging the knife down your throat, not hard enough to cut you but enough for you to feel it. The cool metal drags over your chest and the swell of your breast. You whimper when he strengthens his force on the knife when it meets the fabric of the dress and with one sharp movement, the dress is cut from you. He pushes it off until you're standing in your undergarments.
This elicits a low, satisfied hum from your new husband.
"Pretty lamb," he growls, cupping the back of your head and crashing your lips together.
He walks you back until the back of your legs hit the plush blanket covering his bed. And with one swift movement, you're on the bed with Titus hovering over you.
His kisses are becoming more desperate, more sloppy. His tongue is exploring every inch of your mouth, and drool is rolling down your chin. And your core is on fire. He chuckles when he feels your hips rock upwards in desperation.
"Needy baby," he growls, kissing you once more. "Has anyone ever had you before?"
You shake your head. Your parents had drilled into your head the importance of finding the one. That and one too many Disney movies. While you'd dated in the past, everyone had been a dud. And this knowledge fills Titus with pure glee. He could click his heels together!
His hands move to massage your breasts over your lacy bra. He lets out contented little grunts as he teases your nipples before impatience takes over him and he rips the fabric from your body. One thing you'll learn about your new husband is that he doesn't like to wait. And he's waited so long for you.
He wants to ram his aching cock inside you but he knows that you're such a delicate thing. You wouldn't like that. Not at first. But you'll get used to taking him whenever he pleases. But not for your first time. No, he spends an embarassingly longtime sucking at your tits, leaving marks all over your skin. You can feel your arousal completely soak through your panties. Your thighs are soaked now.
"All for me?" he asks as he pulls your panties down your legs.
He would tear them off but this way he gets to inspect your pretty little pussy better.
"Spread for me, baby," he says giving your thigh a sharp slap before you open your legs.
"Good. Keep them like that. Good girl," he tells you as he steps off the bed to undress himself.
While he was impatient to get you naked, there is no rush in his undressing. He takes every item off slowly, folding them and putting them to the side. Until he's standing there in all his glory. You need to touch him, drag your nails over his freckled skin. But he tuts when you start to move.
"Be a good girl," he says giving your pussy a smack.
You should be embarrassed by the wet sound that echoes through the room. But you can't bring yourself to be. You just whine, keeping your legs spread for him. He smirks at you, like the big bad wolf that he is and hooks your legs over his sunkissed shoulders.
He places kisses over your stomach and thighs before diving into your cunt. And Titus eats you like a man starved. He sticks his tongue inside you before suckling at your clit before dragging his tongue over your aching folds. He repeats these movements until you're squirming under him. His thick hands grip your thighs, holding you against him.
"Cum for me, pretty girl," he demands.
And, as if on command, you do. Soaking his face, the silver of his stubble glistening with your release.
"Oh my little lamb, you taste utterly sinful."
Your eyes don't leave his weeping cock. He's huge - thick and long. You're not sure he's going to fit. But Titus has no doubt as he crawls back up your body. See, he knows that you're made for him. And he's not wasting any more time. He presses the blunt head of his cock against your opening. Even this feels like heaven...
He dips his head into the crook of your neck before he slowly, inch by torturous inch, presses inside you. You whimper and whine, squirming under him. He gives your ass a smack, a warning to stop moving. And finally he bottoms out.
"So fucking tight. The most perfect pussy. All for me," he tells you.
You both watch each other, chests heaving for a moment before he finally starts thrusting. Titus is not a patient man and he can feel your body's resistance to his movements. But he can't go slow like this forever. His hands tighten on your hips as he pulls them upwards so he can go deeper before he rocks his hips harder...faster...
Your screams of pleasure bounce off the walls as he takes what he needs from you. There's a burning sensation, the feeling of being pulled apart for the first time. But it is overwhelmed by how good this feels. Every pull of his cock sends shivers down your spine. And soon your eyes are rolling back in your head as you reach your second orgasm of the night. And it won't be your last.
No, Titus has plans for you.
The way your already tight pussy clenches around him as you cum forces him to stop. He physically can't move. It's enough to have him seeing stars. But not yet.
He pulls out of you, flipping you onto your stomach.
"Hands and knees, princess," he growls in your ear.
And you do just as he says. He gives you enough time to find your balance before he's driving into you again. The sound of skin hitting skin fills the room, the wetness of your cunt echoes around the walls and it's joined by your cries of pleasure and his low grunts as he drills into you. His rough hand snakes around and grips your neck. Pulling your back up against his chest.
A third orgasm overwhelms you making your vision go bleary as your whole body shakes. This time when your pussy clamps down on Titus he has no choice but to follow you over the edge. He fills you with ropes of cum. You didn't know someone could cum that much.
He lets you fall onto the bed, but he's not going to let his seed go to waste. No. When he pulls his cock out of you, he replaces it with two fingers.
"Need you to give me an heir, little lamb. Think I can fuck a baby into you tonight?" he growls in your ear.
All you can do is nod. Already fucked out. But you know that Titus' night has just begun.
"What a pretty fuckin' pussy you have," he tells you as he lazily pumps his fingers in and out of you.
He can feel the familiar quiver of your walls. Your fourth orgasm is fast approaching. He feels it as he breathes, "And all I had to do to get it was kill your useless fuckin' parents."
His words send your world upside down. He tells you as you're cumming. What a cruel, cruel man. He's killed your parents to get to you. And you've signed your life away to him.
"Oh pretty girl," he says pulling his fingers out and offering you them to suck. "Don't look so horrified, we both know that deep down you knew."
You open your mouth and let him press his fingers inside. You suck them clean as your eyes meet his. Did you? Did you know this man murdered your only family so he could marry you? Did it matter as you lay completely fucked out in his bed?
You were the most powerful woman in the world... Could you hate him for giving you that?
Titus watches as the gears shift in your head.
"Pretty girl. Smart girl. Precious girl," he breathes, kissing over your skin. "You stay by my side and you'll never want for anything again. Or you join your parents...What do you say?"
You look at him then. It's not much of a choice...but even if it were you had made it when you gripped his arm in the woods all those hours ago. You could never say no to Titus. So you just pull him down for a kiss. And you can feel how he smirks against your lips.
"Now, you should get used to this room because you're not leaving until I get you fuckin' pregnant," he snarls.
Warning: Swearing, injury mentioned, pregnancy, some angst, fluff, BND SPOILERS! Not proofread! 🥲
A.N: Just a lil wholesome domestic reader and frank fic 🥹
Please let me know what else you guys would like! I do have a few other fics on the back-burner (for now!) that I'll start to post soon and just let me know if you'd liked to be tagged in further works too
—💀—💀—💀—💀—💀—
“Can I help you?” You hung over then barrier of Frank’s houseboat.
“‘Uh…I’m looking for Frank?” The boy in red and blue asked from below.
“He’s out…” you called into the vastness of the room before you heard him groan and smirked at the reaction.
“Where is he?” A reply.
“I’d rather not know kid,” you called back. “Since you’re here, I made lasagna. You want some?” You watched him ponder behind the mask for a moment, you already knew what he was thinking. “If you’re worried about it, I won’t tell him you stopped by…”
“Uh…I don’t even know your name.” He scratched the back of his head.
“It’s Y/N. Y/N- I’ll never have the surname Castle- Y/L/N.” Peter snorted in amusement at that.
Before you knew it, you found him sat in his suit at the table in your galley kitchen with a plate of lasagna in front of him. “Thanks Y/N.” He had the upmost sincerity in his voice, but it was also strained, like he was one sentence away from it cracking completely and bursting into tears.
“No problem, I’ll give you some to take home too, hmm?” He nodded, despite not seeing his face you could tell he was looking at you with a grateful expression. “I’ll give you peace to eat it without all this,” you gestured to your own face with a small smile before leaving the room. “Oh, first aid kit is in the bottom left hand cupboard beside the stove!”
A few moments later, you heard him stand up and open the cupboard.
About half an hour had passed when Peter stepped out with his mask back on to fetch you. “Thanks for that, I took a couple of bandaids too if that was alright?”
You smirked standing up “Wouldn’t have told you where the first aid kit was if it wasn’t kid…” you heard an amused puff of air leave his nose. “Let me wrap up you some lasagna to take home. I got some black and white cookies that I’ll throw in too, don’t tell Frank I got them though- he’ll kill me if he knew I ate three on the way home.”
“Nah, I’d make sure he couldn’t get ya…” Peter told you, his voice sounding a lot more chirpier.
You handed him a box of lasagne and cookies wrapped in foil. “Be safe kid, you know where the first aid kit is anytime you need it.”
—•—
“Where my gorgeous girl!” You heard him call out over the music that was playing. The smell of tomato and garlic filled Frank’s nostrils before he was hit with the sight of you over the stove. “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” He wrapped his arms around you from behind and you giggled feeling his lips kiss the back of your neck.
“He finally returns…” you spun around and your lips instantly found his. “Mhmm dinner’s gonna burn!” You moaned against his soft lips and rough stubble before finding the strength to press your hands to his shoulders and softly pushing him away. “Sit! C’mon, I spent ages on this.”
Frank complied, not before twirling you on the spot just as the music peaked before slowly walking away and sitting down, watching you plate up his dinner before your own and sitting across from him. “Shit, this is delicious!” You bashfully smiled and waved away his kind comment. “But not as delicious as you…” his tone dropped an octave and you stopped mid-mouthful. You pulled off what was on your fork with your teeth and slowly chewed, mulling over his words.
“Dinner first…” you half warned before giving in to his ways. “Then dessert.” His first frantically hit the table in excitement, causing you to laugh.
“Oh baby,” you looked and saw an empty plate in front of him and then watched him tuck a napkin into his collar. “I’m fuckin’ starvin’.” You placed down your fork and looked at him through your lashes, a wide grin engulfed his face and he stood up, picking you up with a growl and planting his lips to yours as he carried you to his bedroom as strings of giggles left your lips.
—•—
“So…how did you and Frank meet?” Peter asked one evening when Frank was out yet again, you had made him an extra portion. It had been two weeks since you first met the boy. The two of you forming a close bond over a brief meal, you almost felt a maternal instinct over him.
“We actually met outside a gallery, I’m an artist and I was trying to get an exhibition spot there. He found me crying my eyes out because I didn’t get it.” You smirked to yourself. “He cheered me up with a joke- said ‘surely you didn’t see a portrait that ugly- no one painted me recently’ and I couldn’t help but chuckle. Threw him a flirt back, saying the gallery would be sold out if a face like his was in it and that made him laugh, we went for a drink, hit it off- over the love of the Spice Girls of all things! And well…let’s just say the next week I got that gallery spot.”
He could see your influence around the small houseboat, paintings scattered here and there, Peter softly snorted to himself. “Really? Frank likes the Spice Girls?”
“Don’t let him kid ya- he likes the Spice Girls just as much as anyone else!” You laughed. “He’d be posh spice…closet full of black clothes…” you rolled your eyes and Peter let out a hysterical bark. “Don’t you tell him I told you that- that’s a secret you take to the grave.” He nodded at that.
“How long have you been together?” He asked, genuinely curious but also making casual chit-chat with you as he continued to nibble on a cookie you had baked with his mask covering everywhere besides his mouth.
You smirked and shook your head before taking a mouthful of your coffee. “Too long kid, too long! But ain’t a ring in sight.” You wiggled your bare left hand at him.
Peter let out a puff of amused air. “I’ve seen him eyeing up stores in the diamond district a couple of times!” He tried to assure you and you rolled your eyes with a smile.
“You’re a kind soul, kid. I don’t think he’s gonna pop a question like that anytime soon though. He’s had a hard time. I’m not gonna push anything like that on him too much, not until he’s ready.” You explained with a tight smile, the painting you did for him of his wife and kids catching your eye in the far corner, a reminder of his past.
“I can tell he really loves you.” He sounded quietly confident.
“Yeah well, I really love him too.” You softly replied. “I’ll wrap you up some dinner to take home. Some band-aids too I think?” You sent him a knowing look and he nodded his head with a deflated sigh. “What about you? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Anyone?”
“Nah, not right now…there was someone but…it’s complicated.” His voice strained.
You hummed. “I’m sure the mask doesn’t help things.” He nodded. “What about family?” You asked.
“Just me.” You felt your heart twist inside your chest at his all too casual admission as a tear slipped down from his mask to fall off his chin, Peter quickly wiped it away. But not fast enough that you didn’t catch it.
“Well,” you cleared your throat. “You have family here.” You tightly smiled and tried to not let your voice break. “And to prove it, I’ll give you two cookies away with you.” You gently tapped his hand and began packing another meal for him.
“Peter,” you stopped what you were doing and slowly turned to him with a confused expression. “M-my name’s Peter.”
“Our home is your home, Peter.”
An hour later a set of hands were wrapping around your waist, Frank’s chin finding its place on your shoulder. “Hey, baby,” he gave you a gentle peck on your cheek. “You want me to finish this off?” He asked, taking the utensils from you anyway. You softly smiled and fell back into him, swaying for a moment before pulling away and dismally sighing seeing the cut on his temple. Frank quickly caught on. “It’s nothin’,” he pressed a brief kiss to your lips. “Why don’t you go and paint a little hmm? Don’t worry about me.”
You wandered off and sat outside with a sketchpad in hand as Frank finished making dinner for you both. He called you back in when it was ready, in reality you hadn’t painted a single thing on the page but looking back at you was an image.
—•—
Your eyes went wide and you jumped at the sudden booming noise. “What the fuck was that?!” You yelped.
“Fuckin’ cocky kid, gonna get himself killed and give me a heart attack…” you could hear Frank grumble to himself walking through the narrow corridors of the boat.
“What’s happening?!” You asked, hurrying after him as his brooding demeanour burst through with every stride.
“He’s here! Fuckin’ Spiderman…some chick too!” He grunted out as you followed him to the deck. “What you want?!” He called out “And who the hell is that?” He motioned to the young girl beside him.
“Well- you know!”
“Nah I don’t know that’s why the hell I asked!” He barked back.
“Frank!” You hissed at his snarky tone.
Peter groaned. “I need a favour!” He called out and Frank blew a raspberry. “Oh come on man! I saved your life- Staten Island!”
“What’s he talking about...?” Your unimpressed tone almost made Frank flinch. He glanced to you and saw you with a deadpanned expression on your face and your arms tightly crossed over your chest while your foot tapped, waiting and silently demanding an answer.
“Nothin’ honey, doesn’t matter.” He quickly spewed out, his best at trying to reassure you while desperately trying to move on. “Staten Island my ass! That’s all bullshit! What do you want kid?” He called out to Peter again.
“I need you to keep her safe. Please?” Peter all but begged at the man before turning and looking at you. “Band-aids!” You blinked softly, limbs loosening when his word hit you, you knew what he meant and you knew he was in trouble. Big trouble.
Frank slowly turned to you, uttering the words you said to him with a confused expression. “What’s he talkin’ about?”
Your eyes widened ever so slightly and you almost mocked him “Nothin’ honey. Doesn’t matter.” Frank shot you an unimpressed glare. “Frankie…he needs help.” You quietly whispered, trying your best to tug on his hardened heartstrings with the nickname only you could call him by.
Frank sighed, always somehow succumbing to you. “You like chilli?” He shouted.
“I wouldn’t eat it,” Peter turned and explicitly warned MJ.
“It’s alright, I made it.” You told him and he let out a sigh of relief.
“That’s fine, you can eat that.” He said and Frank narrowed his eyes before turning to you. “She’s a good cook. Won’t poison you.”
“You helpin’ him?”
“Staten Island? What the hell is that about, Frank? He had to save your life?” You countered back and he stood a little straighter. “Let’s talk about this later.” You turned on your heel and went to meet the two of them. “I made muffins this morning if you’ll be here for breakfast too tomorrow,” you said as you greeted them both. “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.”
“MJ,” the young girl shook your hand and you encouraged her to take a seat.
“You staying for dinner sweetie?” You asked Peter and he looked to a sneering Frank, worried to open his mouth. “Don’t you mind him.” You waved away his silent concern. Frank took a muffin and you pulled it from his grasp, pointing a finger at him “Not until after your dinner and only if you’re nice.”
“I’m always fuckin’ nice.” He huffed before disappearing into the darkness.
You rolled your eyes and served them dinner, taking a bowl to Frank who was sitting outside. “It’s too cold to eat out here…” you handed him the bowl and he practically snatched it from your hands.
He was grunting and sulking, sending you soft glares every now and then. “Can’t believe you’ve been helpin’ him…”
You walked over to the railing and steadied yourself with one hand on it. “Ya know what, Castle. I’m not sorry I did.” Frank gulped, it was few and far between that you ever called him just by his surname. But it was never good anytime you did. “He’s a young kid, probably so outta his depth he’s drowning!” You sternly told him and walked forward towards him.
He flapped his arms in exasperation at your hypothesis. “How do you know that?!”
Everything inside you burst at Frank’s complete obliviousness to the situation. “Because your voice shakes just like his when you’re scared!” You erupted, taking Frank back. Your words bouncing off the rusting metal as they echoed around him. He looked at you silently blinking, he wasn’t aware that he ever did that and certainly didn’t realise the kid did that either. “He probably feels like he’s the only person in the world, he doesn’t have anyone else Frank. No partner. No family. Only you.” You softly jabbed his chest with a pointed finger, your eyes welling. “You’re so fucking blind.” You jabbed your finger in further with each word before storming off to your bedroom.
Frank slowly followed you, finding you perched on the edge of the bed, looking at the floor with your body almost twisted into a knot. He kneeled down and placed his finger on your chin, raising it up slightly to connect your eyes with his. “Only us. There’s no me without you, baby.”
You couldn’t help the smile spreading over your face, trying to remain collected enough that he’d still know you were annoyed at him. “Do not try and charm your way outta this one.” You wrapped your hand around his wrist. Frank reached up and kissed your knuckles before his lips found yours.
You pulled back with a soft click filling the room. “I know I can’t, that’s why I love you. You take no shit- especially not my shit.” His gruff voice filled your ears and his words filled your heart. You clutched onto his top and pulled him towards you again.
“Frank Castle,” your noise pressed against his own and your breath fanned over his cheeks. “What am I gonna do with you?”
“Hmm love me and keep me in line forever I guess…” you playfully rolled your eyes and kissed him again. “C’mon, you’re too busy taking care of everything and everyone else that I bet you didn’t even have you dinner.” He pulled you up from the bed and marched you to the kitchen where Peter and MJ were.
“This is really good, Y/N, thank you,” Peter tried to avoid Frank’s narrowing eyes.
“You draw?” MJ asked, her eyes catching onto your works.
Peter hummed on your behalf. “That’s how they met, Y/N’s an artist.”
You bashfully smiled as Frank scoffed. “Aww god! You told him how we met?” You shrugged a shoulder as he rolled his eyes.
“Even down to the Spice Girls,” Peter added.
Frank sent you an unimpressed sneer. “Great…I’ll never hear the fuckin’ end of that one from him…” he grumbled to himself.
“I have some art supplies if you wanted to keep yourself amused?” You offered, trying to change the subject and she gladly accepted, you motioned to the room behind her and she wandered off. Your eyes then snapped open when you heard a crunch and you turned to catch Frank in the act. “No way! Nuh uh Frank get that goddamn cannoli out your mouth! I made you a crumb cake yesterday that’s still there!” Peter tried to conceal a laugh, seeing a domestic moment play out between the two of you- somehow feeling more at home by the second over it. “Where the hell did you even get that?!”
“Bakery.” You glared at him with a lips pursing in anger at his smart-ass answer. “It’s swell!”
“You know what else is gonna be swell, your jaw in a second!” He rolled his eyes back and ate the entire thing in one mouthful, shooting you a wink and then a longing glare. “Stop giving me the eyes in front of the kid!” You warned and Frank’s face flushed red with embarrassment and he walked away before you could torment him any longer.
You turned to Peter “You wanna know about Staten Island, don’t you?”
“Every. Single. Detail.”
—•—
You woke up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. You got out of bed without disturbing Frank and headed out to sit outside and watch the city. When you stepped out, you found a suited up Peter there.
“Couldn’t sleep either huh?” You asked before sitting beside him.
He shook his head “Feels like I hardly do these days…” You sent him a sympathetic smile, staying in silence for a moment before Peter opened his mouth. “Uh…MJ opened one of your sketchbooks and found something.” You furrowed your brow before he revealed a small black and white image and gingerly handed it to you. “I didn’t know…”
You smirked with welling eyes “He doesn’t know either.” You replied tracing your fingers over it. “Don’t know how to tell him. That’s why I can’t sleep.” You sighed and held it close to your chest.
“He’ll be really, really happy.” Peter told you and you nodded with a smile, a tear falling down your cheek.
“C’mon, get some sleep.” You gently pushed him up and encouraged him to rest. You went back to your own bed, Frank still sound asleep. You crawled back in and wrapped your arms around him, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder blade before your eyes shut.
—•—
You woke up and found Frank and MJ almost having a standoff in the kitchen. “What’s going on?” Your eyes darting between them both.
“You’re just gonna let him leave?!” MJ’s panicked tone sent your mind into a worried overdrive. Your head snapped to Frank who waved away her concern. “I think you should go after him!”
“Yeah right…” Frank groaned.
“I think you should go after him too.”
Frank looked at you with his eyebrows knitting together. You never told him to go. You’d always end up begging for him to stay each and every time.
This was one time you told him to go.
He watched your worried eyes motion to the door, your arms surrounding your frame like you were trying to ease your panic with a hug.
“Y/N…”
“He needs you Frank. You know he needs you.” He nodded, feeling his throat closing at the expression on your face. “Help him. Be safe.” You cupped his cheek and pecked his lips.
—•—
You dropped everything when you got the call. You rushed to the hospital and found Frank hunched over sitting outside a room with his head in his hands.
“Frank, sweetie?” You slowly approached him.
He looked up at you with red eyes and wet cheeks. “Honey…” his voice cracked and he broke down into a flood of tears again. You wrapped him in your arms as he sobbed into your shoulder. “I didn’t mean it, it wasn’t supposed to be him,” he kept repeating himself over and over before eventually the tears stopped and he just let himself be held by you.
The doctors finally let you into his room after you and Frank convinced them you were family, you kept a hold of Frank’s hand as the two of you stepped in. As you gasped, he held your hand tighter. Your eyes welled with tears seeing the young boy in the bed, battered and bruised. “He’s just…”
“A kid,” Frank finished your sentence, feeling himself getting choked up again. “Really is just a kid.” He turned to you and pressed a kiss to your hair, ushering you to sit. “He’s gonna be okay.” You held his hand a little tighter as you reached across for Peter’s with the other.
“Oh Peter…” you said while looking at his bloodied face and then turning to Frank whose eyebrows were furrowed together. “You didn’t know his name, did you?” He shook his head no, eyes welling again. Peter. A normal boy with a normal life thrown into an abnormal world.
“Strong name. Strong nature.” Frank croaked and swiftly brushed his fingers over his eyes. “Selfless kid.” He sighed. “Can’t imagine any of my kids taking on what he’s done. I’d be so damn proud of them…” your eyes turned back to Peter and then fell to the bedsheets.
It felt like weeks went by until he finally cracked opened his eyes again. You were using Frank’s shoulder as a pillow as he softly snored, the warm hospital room was causing your eyes to flutter shut too.
“W-where am I?”
You sat up with a gasp that jolted Frank awake and almost reaching for a weapon at your reaction.
“Peter, you’re in the hospital, try not to move. You’re okay.” Your hands hovered over him as if you were trying to make him stay still.
“M-my mask…” he murmured and Frank let out an amused grunt.
“Think we are past that kid…” he watched as you grasped Peter’s hand with both of yours, acting like one of the nurses and asking him a dozen questions. “Give him a minute! He’s just up for the love of god woman!”
You hushed him and waved him away while your attention remained firmly on Peter. “Trust me kid if you died, he was next.” You told him and Peter found the strength to smile.
“I told her you were gonna make it anyway, I knew you’d be alright.” Frank walked around to the other side of his bed, trying to sound sure of himself, but deep down you knew when you saw him sitting on the seats outside the room, he wasn’t sure whatsoever.
Peter laughed, trying not to focus on the pain in his back and worry you. “Course I had to make it. I need to make sure she gets a ring on her finger as a result for tolerating you before anything happens to me.” He jibed, taking Frank aback. You let out a watery laugh at his playful teasing.
“Smart-mouthed lil’ shit…” he grumbled and then looked up to you, his features instantly softening at the sight of you fussing over Peter.
Then his eyes fell to your bare hands and he realised that Peter had a point. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to ask you, or start a new chapter with you, or wasn’t committed, or didn’t want to settle down, or didn’t have a ring ready and all he had to do was get on his knee.
A part of him knew he still didn’t deserve you. Deserve your patience, your strength, you smile, your love, your much better cooking…deserve your hand in marriage above everyone else’s.
“Don’t worry, Peter sweetie,” you brushed away the hair from his bruised and cut forehead. “I’ll get it one day.” Your eyes flickered up to Frank and a smile flashed across your face. “Besides, I know he keeps a little red box in an old coffee tin behind cleaning supplies that he thinks I don’t know about.” His jaw dropped and Peter burst out laughing, you smiled hearing his laughter filling the room. Frank shook his head with a small smile. Of course you knew. He couldn’t pull the wool over your eyes.
“Great, now I got to deal with two smart-mouthed little shits…” Frank grunted.
“Whenever you’re ready to go leave Peter, we have a plan. You can also stay with us. Just until you’re back on your feet.” You sent him a soft grin. “I’ll make your favourite for dinner.”
“That’s a good deal, kid, she never makes me my favourite…” you shot Frank a playful glare and Peter giggled.
“That’s a lie as big as your ass.” You countered back and Peter continued laughing, tears streaming down his face.
“I missed this,” he breathed out and closed his eyes, opening them to raised brows from both you and Frank, the two of you silently asking what. “A family.”
You held Peter’s hand as Frank reached for the other. “We got you Peter.” Frank smiled.
—•—
“You’ve been baking lots…” Frank observed aloud when he got home from impersonating Peter at the hospital. You shrugged and looked into the oven. “You bake when you’re stressed.” You silently cursed him for knowing you so well. “Remember when I was shot and when I came home it was like a damn bread factory…didn’t know that much focaccia existed in the world.” He snorted.
“Well maybe if you didn’t almost die on Staten Island and shoot at the Hulk!” Frank went wide-eyed and gulped. “Yes Peter told me what happened!” You pointed your wooden spoon at him and turned away.
Frank wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back into his chest. “This has been before that, what’s the matter, baby?” He softly whispered in your ear.
“I’ve got a bun in there,” you didn’t answer him quite yet, motioning to the oven and Frank hummed as he peered in through the glass, deciding to amuse your musings.
“Looks and smells good, when will it be ready?”
You kept your focus on the oven as took his hand and brought it to your stomach “About six months…”
You could feel Frank’s body tense against your own. “Really…?” he quietly managed to croak out between a sniffle. You turned and faced his glossy eyes with your own, softly nodding and pulling out the black and white image of the scan. Frank held it like it was the most precious thing in the world. You cupped his cheek as he left out a soft sob. “My baby, havin’ a baby…” he gingerly placed his hand over your stomach before pressing a long kiss to your lips.
He eventually pulled back and stepped over to the cabinet that the cleaning supplies were kept in, reaching in just enough to grab an old coffee tin that hid a little red box.
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pairing ۶ৎ frank castle x parker!reader , ft.peter parker.
summary ۶ৎ in which, a meddlesome little brother of yours nudges frank into the direction of your love life.
warnings ۶ৎ pre-brand new day ( no spoilers ), fluff, banter, frank’s inner-conflict, some small potato changes ( reader remembers spiderman is peter… ), no use of y/n.
a/n ۶ৎ i wrote this before bnd came out then added in a few extra details after i watched it <3
word count ۶ৎ 3k | divider creds ۶ৎ @/angeliicide
Peter began noticing things.
His eyes dissect what the normal vision can’t. If he searches close enough, buried deep within the hollowness carved inside Frank Castle are emotions cradling each other. They’re hidden beneath the solid wall he’s honed himself into, nothing surpassing his brute force.
An indefinite amount of time has slipped by since feelings came out to play for Frank. They slouch inside of him, accepting the sorrow he transmits. He can’t remember how to feel happiness, nor the definition of it, but when your presence graces him, remembering is no longer a problem.
He learns in his own little ways, and Peter studies them as if it’ll help him complete an impossible exam.
Frank will lift his head first when you enter a room ( despite Peter’s spider-senses already alerting him ), eyes roaming over you, checking for potential injuries blemishing your body, or alleviating the weight on his shoulders by rolling them back when you cheerily greet him.
Where Frank’s boots face has additionally ensnared Peter’s attention. No matter how close or distanced you’re standing from each other, his heavy-footing is instinctively turned towards you in case he needs to get you out of a situation fast.
With the fragments of evidence Peter’s internally stored away, he’s hoping a visit will piece it all together.
As New York’s humidity breezes past Spider-Man, he soars over the bustling streets. Buildings lend a helping hand when webs connect to the structures, his body angling in the directions he wishes to venture towards.
Finding Frank is easy. He’s a closed off, ex-military man. With every step he takes, the thudding echo of his boots is a warning to humanity’s cruelest. Of course he’s going to be shacked up somewhere gloomy and dark!
“No way does he like her,” he mumbles under his mask, the cells in his brain wrestling with each other. “He’s gruff and glares too much and is always covered in blood. He only bothers to clean himself up when…”
The realisation hits him fast.
Akin to the building he immediately swerves.
“Oh.” Peter exhales a heavy breath, both the near-crash and the facts piling together.
Maybe a little interrogation is on-route after-all.
The apartment-complex towers in a corner of New York not many dare embark upon. The walls are enough to attract criminals, exuding a sketchiness due to the infrastructure slowly deteriorating. It leaves shadows on the grounds, becoming a haven for unlawful souls seeking refuge and blending in.
Frank has made it his unofficial watch-spot—a trap he’s set to ensure no unrighteousness can escape the tenebrosity again.
The entire area pulls goosebumps out of Peter, but as he perfects his lands on the murky rooftop with questions that need answering, he forces the chill away.
“What’re you doin’ here, kid?” Frank’s questioning immediately snaps Peter’s head in the direction his voice carried.
The world’s problems rest heavily upon his shoulders, yet he remains guarded and sat rigidly. A crate holds himself upright, tiny particles of rust flaking against his trousers. He hasn’t spared Peter a glance, for his stare is locked on the alleyways below as evening lurks around the corner.
“Nothing,” Peter poorly attempts at being smooth and clicks his tongue. “Just cruising through the neighbourhood, y’know?”
Frank’s head turns slightly, generously giving him a glimpse of one brown eye built with dryness. A sigh follows, a mix between reluctance of entertaining a boy coated in red and blue and eventual defeat.
He shakes his head, returning to overlooking the vastness of New York. Each building has a personality: paint work blistering and dampness flourishing from the cracks—an infrastructure aging as people grow ignorant. Others behold a sense of importance dedicated in maintaining its polished windows and non-creaking doors when workers venture inside.
Never in a million years would Frank conceive this fresh perspective on life, let alone cared, until you pointed it out to him.
Peter awkwardly taps the side of his thighs. He parts his mouth, ready to blurt out what’s running rampant in his mind… when the grumpy man surprises him.
“How’s your sister?”
Peter’s lips stretch widely beneath his mask.
Frank only initiates a conversation if it’s evolving you.
“She’s great!” He exclaims, pride a clear cadence when conversing about you—his big sister. “Yeah, she’s actually what I came here to talk to you about.”
Suddenly, his brows pinch together, sidetracked, “Has she been by at all? You’re looking very… clean.”
True to his claim, Frank’s clean-shaven appearance and strangely tamed hair taunts Peter. There’s no trails of crimson dripping down his skin nor any dried in parts of himself that’s unreachable; simply a freshened up man who appears to have been trying to impress someone.
And is that your thermos bottle by his boots?
Oh, you’ve definitely visited.
“You sayin’ I usually look dirty?” He retorts, offended.
“I mean… the blood doesn’t help.” As soon as the words escape, Peter scratches the nape of his neck and internally scolds himself. “Sorry.”
“Say what you wanna say, kid.”
A nice quality of Frank’s is that he doesn’t immediately shut Peter down. Despite calling him ‘kid,’ he comprehends how the invasive presence of violence can rewire one’s brain—even to those who have high intelligence, so he gives him a chance to subtly correct the circuits.
“How long have you been crushing on my sister for?"
That chance diminishes swiftly.
"No idea what you're talkin' about,” he gruffly says, frowning. “And 'crushing?' This ain't high school, it's the real world. Real word there are no 'crushes.'"
He dismisses his feelings like it’s as easy as breathing, concaving himself more so they won’t display themselves.
His jaw ticks, however, betraying him.
“That’s a lie,” he says, a little too gleeful for this side of the universe. “You’re totally lying!”
Frank’s head drops, exasperated.
“Look—”
“Nuh-uh.” Peter raises his hand, blanketed in red, and shakes his finger side-to-side. “Don’t deny it. I see things, Frank.”
“You ‘see’ things? What do you see then?” The accusation coating his tone is a transparent attempt at turning the tables around.
The smirk behind his mask practically pushes through it, and he crosses his arms while rocking on his heels tauntingly.
“That you’re irrevocably falling for her.”
He doesn’t say anymore. He doesn’t need to for Frank to grow quiet.
When there’s a truth in Frank’s life, he prefers to chew on it and spit it out. That way it’s already damaged before it can damage him. No matter how liberating it could be, he brutalises it, tossing the forbidden idea into his self sabotaging list of isolation.
Yet, the kid standing before him speaks his truth with no fear of the consequences. He beholds no comprehension that voicing the conflict torpedoing inside Frank’s mind as a firm statement is life-threatening.
If the slightest bit of fog caught onto his words, there’s no doubt it’d thicken and discover a way to choke you from his life.
“Damn, spider.” He grits his teeth. “Bet you’ve got eight eyes under that mask, yeah? What next? The hairs on the back o’ your neck gonna raise when I look at her?”
“With the amount you feel in your gaze…” Peter softly responds, “Yeah.”
A thick lump in his throat blocks his voice from reaching the air. He forces it down with a harsh swallow and rakes his hand haphazardly through his hair.
He thought he hid it better.
Evidently not.
“Sit.” He grunts after scraping out one of the crates from behind him.
Slowly, Peter inches closer and lowers himself upon the makeshift seat. His heightened senses don’t need to inform him about the sudden shift of mood. Frank’s contemplative look expresses it entirely.
“So how long have you had feelings for her?” He earnestly asks.
“Oh, for the love of—”
“You told me to sit!” Peter clamours, frantically gesturing to his position. “That then invites a conversation!”
“I know that,” he snaps back. A heavy exhale ripples through him, and he leans forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “Just thought I’d have a moment to process.”
The eyes built into Spider-Man’s suit widen, “Process? You like my sister, Frank. There’s nothing to mull over about it.”
There’s everything to think about.
Because that’s what you’ve become to him: everything. Therefore, he can’t spare a single scenario of what the outcome might will be.
Paranoia has rooted into him, sprouting a pervasive plant ghosting around his bones. Its thorns prick under his thick skin, sickeningly sharp, reminding him pain will always appear no matter the given form.
It’s not his suffering he’s concerned over, though. Since the day he first awoke, burdened with silence instead of his children’s laughter, he’s accepted that affliction will always accompany him.
It’s yours he worries about.
His eyes pinpoint to the homely, well-kept apartments in the distance. Warm lighting ricochets against the windows, rejecting the damned world curling around the place. Maybe if he peered closer, he could envision two silhouettes inside, laughing their meagre troubles away and sleepy limbs entangling for an early night.
There wouldn’t be any prison bars around it. He wouldn’t be serving a sentence there. Simply windows he’d scold you for opening during wintertide, but would use it as an excuse to cradle you closer.
Frank lowers his gaze.
He can’t give you that.
He can give you a place with cracked walls overflowing with neglect and leaky faucets. Off the grid, where carnage has already been inflicted and he can isolate the rot festering inside of him.
“I haven’t done this in a while.” He admits.
“Talking about your feelings?” Peter cautiously inquires.
Snapping his head up, Frank’s harsh glare picks at the threads of Spider-Man’s suit, “I will throw you off this roof,” he barks. “Is that what you want?”
“Stop deflecting, Frank!” The younger man yelps out before grumbling, “It’s not like you’re allergic to feeling things.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“What’s dangerous is you ignoring your heart.”
A dead heart you revived.
“Sappy bullshit.” A humourless laugh claws its way from his throat and he lays his palms open like the answers will fall into his grasp. “Enlighten me then, kid. Go on.”
The air tunes into the conversation unfolding, unleashing a serene breeze as encouragement.
“Listening with your head is great when you’re out chasing the bad guys,” Peter begins, “But my sister isn’t a mission. She’s someone who cares about you and deserves more than your head.”
“So what’re you sayin’?” Frank asks, perplexed. “You sayin’ I need to open up my heart t’her?”
Peter’s exhales, a knowingness fused into the action. A strange vulnerability washes over Frank.
“I think it’s already open… you’re just barricading it before she can get through.”
The numerous possibilities of how he could endanger you by simply indulging in his presence has haunted him at night. The nightmares concocted from deep inside of him are rounds being fired endlessly. A brusque hand pulls the trigger, and each bullet penetrating his soul is a scenario concocted from destruction.
Maybe it’s time to lower the gun off himself.
All those times he’d itch for your company, but instead cut your time short together. When you’d visit the rooftop, with your flustered smile and drink made especially for him, all he craved to do was trace the shape of your lips and never let you go.
That urge has never stirred so intensely until now.
“I can’t,” he forces out. “I can’t be near her and…”
The argue in him fades.
“Why not?” Peter asks gently.
“Hell do y’mean ‘why not’?” Frank scoffs, though no annoyance laces his tone. “You know why.”
He doesn’t comment further, the past a heavy hand curling onto his shoulder that he can’t shrug off.
Peter determinedly continues, “You think keeping a distance protects her when it doesn’t. You’ll only end up hurting her more than anyone else out there.”
Frank thought he was doing right. At least, he deluded himself into thinking he was.
He’s never actually asked what you want. He assumed and let the potential danger control his thoughts. Being in the background seemed easy, but his legs regularly strain themselves, refraining from seeking you out.
Yet, do you wish for him to linger but never stay, yearning for a future he lies to himself about? Or do you desire his presence, no matter the broken things that can be fixed? No matter the murky circumstances you’ll undoubtedly brighten?
Because your truths are the one’s he’ll obey by.
The ones he’ll live with.
Swallowing thickly, a tiny upturn of Frank’s mouth sees daylight, “You’re not half bad at that, y’know.”
“At what?” Peter mildly tilts his head.
“Talkin’ ‘bout feelings.” Frank mocks.
The man clad in red and blue chuckles, not only disguising his physical appearance, but the ache scuttling into his senses too.
Peter Parker’s love life may be wandering astray in a haze of fugue, but that doesn’t mean his older sibling’s one has to be.
Suddenly, a bright idea straightens his spine, “Are you planning on asking her out now?”
Frank clicks his tongue in feigned disapproval despite the fervour spreading through his cheeks, “Will y’get off my roof if I do?”
“You don’t own this roof,” he retorts. “Wait, are you blushing?”
“I was here first, hence, my roof.” Frank firmly states, glancing away.
“So unfair. About you blushing—”
“Weather got warmer,” he cuts him off. “Shut up ‘bout it.”
“Mhm,” Peter giddily hums and rises from his seat. “You should ask her out anyway. The worst that can happen is being served bad coffee.”
Frank doesn’t bite back this time. Instead, a subtly curious question leaves his tongue, “Why are you hellbent on this happenin’?”
“She deserves to be happy.” His answer is simple, yet cocooned with layers of tenderness he beholds for you—the person who helped raise him along with May and Ben.
Frank nods respectfully, while his chest tightens at a new thought: he hopes he’s man enough to bring joy into your world.
A cheeky mumble pries him out from the confines of his head.
“…Even if it is with someone I usually wouldn’t approve of.”
Annoyance sinks its nails back into the older man, forcing his brows to screw up, “Get off my roof.”
“Okay, okay!” He laughs, backing up with raised, surrendering hands.
Shaking his head, bemused, Frank reaches down and grasps the thermos. The sound of footsteps retreating as he pops the lid open comes to a swift halt.
“Oh, and Frank?” Peter speaks.
He sighs, offering him a stare, “What?”
“If you hurt her, I’ll throw you into the Hudson.”
The warning weaved around his voice is clearer than the water billowing in said river.
“You threatenin’ me, kid?” Frank smirks while pride swells inside of him over your second protector.
He shrugs, “Do a lot worse if you hurt her.”
“Just go.” Frank dismisses him with a puffed out chest.
“Make sure you call her!” His voice overlaps with the shooting of webs, and he disappears, tugging himself back to the livelihood of New York.
A quietness shifts into place, and Frank stares at his drink. Maybe if he focuses long enough, you’ll appear in front of him and he can rattle off about how frustratingly pure your brother is.
There’s not much left, but he savours the last of it when he takes a sip. The liquid eases down his throat, but it doesn’t mirror the warmth you effortlessly exude.
Exhaling and setting the empty thermos down, he grabs his phone out from his pocket and opens up your contact. His thumb hovers over the call button, then presses onto it with a surge of confidence.
He needs to do this before the chill creeps under his skin, it’s bite attempting to freeze what may become of his future.
One ring.
Two ring.
Three—
“Hey, Frank!”
Nerves flutter inside his stomach at your welcoming melody.
He needs to get a grip of himself.
“Hey, you got a minute?” He asks, not wishing to disturb you if you’re busy.
There’s faint shuffling on your end before answering, “Yeah, course. Did you want a refill on your coffee? I’m not your personal assistant, you know.”
He chuckles a hoarse sound.
No, you’re so much better.
Holding his phone a bit closer to his ear, he murmurs, “Thought maybe I’d take you out for one instead.”
The following silence strikes him deeper than any blade can.
Fuck, he’s scared you off in the most idiotic way possible.
“Y’there?” He shifts in his seat.
“Huh? Oh— yep, yes! Yes, I’m here.” A nervous, almost apologetic, laugh follows. “I’d like that.”
His breath catches.
If Frank wasn’t paying attention to every minuscule noise coming from you, his ears would perk at the gentle creak of the doors to his heart slowly opening.
“Yeah?” He clarifies, an unstoppable grin stretching across his rough features. “You would?
“Yeah!” An elated response tumbles out of you. “Pick me up and surprise me where we’re going?”
“You gonna leave it all up t’me?” He rhetorically questions, huffing, though he doesn’t mind one bit.
He prefers it, ensuring your safety will be in his courteous possession.
Your teasing remark flows into his ears and nestles into his chest, “You’re the one who asked, Frank. You should have a destination already.”
“You’re right,” he plays along solely for you. “Pick you up at eleven then?”
“Eleven sounds good.”
“Good.” He clears his throat. “I’ll see y’tomorrow.”
“Bye, Frank.”
Your sweet goodbye softens his smile, “Bye, sweet’eart.”
The call ends on a copacetic note, and a flood of sensations collide together in a hug so akin to a reunion, it quietens his mind.
Yet, one most of all stands out.
A liberating phenomenon crawls out from the depths of its cage. It doesn’t seek vengeance, choosing not to mutilate his heart so he can’t hand it over to you.
Instead, it courses throughout his veins, uplifting him in a manner he can’t remember experiencing before.
This isn’t adrenaline fuelled by violence. No… this is unmistakably raw.
SUMMARY: After a recurring thought you finally draw the courage to ask the question
CONTENT: Pierrot X Fem!Reader, Monster fucking, Very slight Angst
Note: I'm sorry this took me so long to finish I've had a lot going on and haven't been able to write as much but I hope you guys enjoy!
(Edit: I forgot to mention this is heavily inspired by @stosh-art's design of Pierrot, please go check them out their art is amazing!)
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You've known Pierrot for so long now yet you still haven't seen his face. The thought popped back up again. His hands, his teeth, his eyes, each part of him too strong, too sharp, too aware. He couldn't be human. But if he wasn't human what could he be? Did such things even exist?
“My Lady?”
You turn to face him, finding him standing in the doorway of your balcony. “Pierrot…Can we talk?” He nodded, sitting on the edge of your bed, his eyes never leaving you. “Have I done something wrong, My Lady?” He asked in that soft raspy voice of his. “No, no I just-” You let out a sigh, taking a moment to collect yourself as an anxious silence filled the space of your bedroom. You took a deep breath.
“You aren’t human, are you?” You asked looking up to meet his gaze. His eyes were wide, the silence of the room became deafening, the only things to be heard was your own breathing and your heart beating rapidly in your chest. “No, I'm not.” He reached out, hand twitching as it hovered over your arm. “Does that…frighten you?” His voice sounded small despite his size. “Should I be frightened?” In a flash he takes both of your hands in his. “No! No, no, no, never, I’d never hurt you.” His eyes portrayed panic and pure desperation.
You took one hand from his before gently tracing the side of his jaw. “Can I see you? The real you?” He let out a rumbling purr, his eyes fluttering at your gentle touch. “See me?” He swallowed hard. “Do you really want that?” He asked as his free hand brushed a strand of hair from your face. You nod. “Only if you’ll let me.” He stays quiet, pulling you into a tight embrace before burying his face into the space where your neck met your shoulder. You both stayed like that for a long moment before you felt him nod, reluctantly pulling away from you, flicking off the lamp before drawing the shades plunging the room into full darkness.
Your heart pounds in your chest but you ignore it as you pick up on the sound of cloth being discarded.
“Your heart is beating so fast…” His voice sounded slightly deeper. In the dark you could barely see his silhouette but you could make out three horns crowning his head as he slowly approached. “I'm here My Lady.” His voice was low with…apprehension? Fear? He sat on the edge of the bed reaching out to take your hand. His hand was rough and his nails were sharp. “A-are you sure you want this?”
“Yes.” You gently ran your thumbs over his knuckles as your free hand hovered over the light switch. “Are you ready?” He made a soft hum of agreement before putting his hand over yours and flicking on the lamp, you let out a soft gasp as you took in his form, his pale muscular form was spotted with dark markings and scars, his shoulders decorated with fur and soft quills, and his face had dark markings covering his forehead and down his nose, his golden eyes were wide watching your reactions intensely.
“You're beautiful.”
You barely got the words out before he pulls you into a tight embrace kissing you like it would be his last. You can feel his tears dampen your cheeks. “My love, My Lady, your kindness never fails to make me want to curl into your chest inside your rib cage as close to your heart as possible.” His voice thick with adoration on the border of pure worship as he kissed down your jaw and nuzzled into the hollow of your neck, allowing you to caress his horns bringing out a soft groan from him. “Do you really think so? Do you really find me attractive?” He asked, needing to hear it again so he knew he didn't just imagine it.
“Of course I do.” You reassured pulling back some to see his face. “Beautiful Boy.” You kiss his forehead wiping the tears from his face before straddling his lap. “M-My Lady…” He blushed a deep red as his hands twitched over your hips. “Do you want me to show you just how attractive I find you?” You teased as he nodded, panting heavily. You guided his hand down until you slipped his hand underneath your nightgown, pressing his hand to your damp panties. He let out a low growl before gently curling his fingers, being mindful of his sharp nails. “P-Pierrot…” Your back arched with a soft moan. “You're so soft and warm, My Lady.” He increased the pressure causing you to squirm in his lap. “Please, My Lady, I need you, so, so much.” You nodded panting softly.
With your expressed permission he used his nails to gently slice away the fabric of your panties before fumbling with the buttons of his pants freeing his cock pressing it against your entrance. “Are you ready, My Lady?” You answered by rolling your hips drawing out a deep groan from him causing him to grip your waist to restrain himself before slowly lowering you down on his cock. “You feel so good, so warm and tight.” He moaned as he started to thrust. You hugged his neck bringing him into a bruising kiss, his tongue instantly overpowering your own, moving without rhyme or rhythm to taste every inch of your mouth. “My Lady…” He growled his grip tightening on your hips. “Please let me fill you up, let me make you feel good.” His hips bucked against yours in fast sporadic thrusts.
“Pierrot, oh god give it to me.” Your nails rake down his back as he bottoms out, sending you over the edge as he fills you with his hot cum. “My Lady, I love you, I love you so, so, so much.” He pulls you into a tight embrace holding you like that for a long moment before he slowly maneuvers down to lay down with you on his chest, his cock still buried inside you.
“I love you Pretty Boy.” You press a soft kiss to his collarbone.
Summary: Not having seen you in a week has Jack on edge, and to add to his frustration, a certain doctor thinks he can touch what’s his
Warnings || smut, P in V, unprotected sex, implied age gap (Jack is 50 and reader is 30) oral (f!receiving), creampie, rough sex, daddy kink, jealous!Jack is a warning, inaccurate depiction of a hospital workplace
A/N: I had an itch that needed scratching so I wrote it myself. Hope ya’ll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!!
Jack had been in a mood for what felt like forever. Your schedules weren’t lining up so the last week or so had been just texts and short phone calls.
Being doctors, you both understood what was demanded of each other. Him as an ER attending and you as a pediatrician, work life balance wasn’t exactly something either of you excelled in.
But when things became official, bit by bit you’d drawn boundaries at work, now refusing to compromise time you could’ve spent with each other.
Still, duty calls, and for over a week, Jack hasn’t seen your face unless it was through a phone screen. Not being able to kiss or touch you in any way has made him an even bigger grouch.
Truth be told, he was loosing it. He’s exhausted and pent up to the point he’d consider giving up his other leg if it meant spending even a little time with you.
So when his rare day off finally comes along, he’s already making the trip to the pediatric ward. With your coffee on one hand and a small excited smile on his face, he wishes the elevator would go faster. He can’t waste even a second.
Jack is already planning the evening in his head. He’ll pick up a few steaks and cook it at his place, not forgetting to grab your favorite wine too. Maybe you’d watch a movie, but he’d probably feign interest because all he really wants to do is make out with you on his lap.
Jack is busy playing out scenarios in his head when he’s stopped dead in his tracks. At the end of the hall is you, hair in a loose bun, looking every bit as beautiful even with the fatigue weighing you down. But it’s not the sight of you that has him on pause, rather the hand that’s running up and down your arm.
That blonde pediatric surgeon you’ve introduced to him some time ago is offering you a smile that looks fond, but Jack knew better. He knew that behind those eyes was an attraction you were oblivious to. You offered a polite smile back, mind only half registering what your colleague was saying.
Almost as if you had a sixth sense specific to his presence, you had turned your head, bright smile instantaneous as you watched Jack walk closer to where you stood.
Taking a few steps to close the distance faster, you were quick to wrap your arms around him.
“Jackie…” you murmured as you slanted your head to bury your face in his embrace.
Standing there, finally having you in his arms, the animosity that had started creeping up his veins slowed to a stop, albeit momentarily. He pressed you harder against him, communicating his longing through the hug both of you clearly needed.
Only when an awkward cough came from behind, did you reluctantly release your boyfriend.
“Jack, you remember Dr. Adams.”
If looks could kill, lord knows Dr. Adams would’ve dropped dead on the sterile floor. Jack only offers a small nod of his head in reply.
“Ah Dr. Abbot. Nice to see you again. I was just telling Dr. L/N what a great job she’d been doing with-”
“I’m sure she did. My girl has always been amazing at what she does.”
Your eyebrows crease at that. While Jack has always been a fan of pet names, it’s the possessiveness in his tone that has you tilting your head.
“Well, that’s true. Just the other day, with her patient, she-”
“Actually, I did have something I needed her to look at downstairs. So if you don’t mind…”
Jack was quick to intertwine his fingers with yours, walking back to the elevator with you in tow, not sparing doctor blondie a second glance.
Jack definitely missed this. You’re panting and whining as he sucks on your throbbing clit, fighting the urge to lock your thighs around his head.
It took him less than 10 minutes to drag you to his truck in the hospital parking lot and even less time to have you screaming his name.
“That’s it… my pretty baby, let me see you cum on daddy’s tongue”
His fingers have replaced his tongue, twisting them upward and curling them just right to hit that spot while his teeth lightly graze your sensitive clit.
“I-I, Jack! Please- Ah ‘m gonna cum” you squeal as he slaps your clit, sending shocks through your body, his stubble further adding to your overstimulation.
“C’mon pretty girl, let go for me,” his words have your muscles seizing up as you squirt into his awaiting mouth.
While he has you catching your breath, Jack is impatiently taking his pants off. You watch with wide eyes as he strokes his hard cock, tip an angry red, desperate to sink into your heat.
He’s gentle when he lifts you unto his lap, smiling softly at your flushed face as you settle your knees on either side of him.
Jack can’t wait for long, not when your soft hands have wrapped around his length, lifting your thighs up as you sink down on him slowly.
You let out a broken moan at the stretch of his cock. It’s been awhile, the frustration and impatience catching up to you as well.
More than a week without his touch and your pupils are dilating as you watch Jack throw his head back as you take him deeper inside.
“Fuck, there you go, my baby girl, so perfect, all mine” you mewl at his praise, wrapping your arms around his neck to stabilize yourself.
There’s a pool of your slick between the two of you as he rubs on your clit again with a rough thumb.
Jack bounces you softly at first, relishing in your little gasps as you adjust to his size. His length has always been a challenge, and your time apart makes him extra gentle with you despite the animalistic urge to lift you up and slam you back down his cock till he hits the very back of your insides.
He leans forward to suck and kiss your tits as you begin bouncing faster on his cock. He lifts one hand before landing a harsh smack on your ass.
“That’s it, baby… you’re so good to me, princess”
The pressure deep in your belly is overwhelming as Jack thrusts up to match your movements. The kiss you share is desperate and filthy. Your cries filling the small space.
“You going to cum for me? Yeah, baby c’mon- make a mess on my cock,”
That sends you over the edge. The absolute filth that comes out of Jack’s mouth is downright sinful. He has you shaking in his hold, coming hard for a second time.
Jack doesn’t take long after that. His hold on your waist is bruising as he keeps you rooted to the hilt while he cums inside you.
You’re breathing heavily as you collapse on his chest, your insides still warm from his release. Neither of you speak as you revel in the bliss of your orgasms.
Jack is planting soft kisses to your neck and shoulder when you finally find your voice.
“This was what you wanted to show me?” You teased. “The backseat of your truck? For you to fuck me in?”
Jack grumbles as you giggle.
“I was gonna invite you over to my place. Cook you dinner, ya know? Just wanted to spend time with my girl” he whispered the last part as he nuzzled into your neck
“I was gonna wait for you till your shift ended but then doctor Ken had his hands all over you” Jack continued.
“Doctor Ken?”
“That Ken doll looking, blonde idiot”
“Oh my god… are you,” Jack groans and hides his face deeper in your neck.
“You’re jealous of Dr. Adams?” Your tone carries your amusement at the situation.
“He’s obviously into you,” Jack whines. “Looking at you with hearts in his eyes, all lovey dovey and shit”
You’re laughing harder now, relishing in the way Jack is blushing at your delight.
“You know you have nothing to worry about right?” You pull Jack’s head back so he’s looking into your eyes.
“Dr. Adams is just a colleague, if anything, him acting that way towards me knowing I have you just makes me want to set the record straight with him.”
“You sure I can’t just punch him?”
“Dr. Abbot!” You gasp. “That’s no way to treat the other doctors,” Your face gives way to a teasing smile.
“Doctors aren’t supposed to fuck each other on the job either but that’s never stopped us”
You slap his chest at the crude remark and Jack can only laugh at your embarrassment.
“Your shift ends in a few minutes so I think we can go straight to my place, sweetheart”
“At least let me get my things before we leave”
“Mmmm you’re gonna walk back to peds and say goodbye to doctor blondie while my cum drips out of you? That’s so fucking hot, I-”
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jack abbot certified pussy spanker. needs your attention? pussy spank. punishing you for coming too early? pussy spank. shutting you up for being a brat? a flurry of spanks right on your swollen little clit :(
Jack Abbot who’s always dated women younger than him, but never as young as you.
warnings: SMUT - MDNI, age gap (obviously), mentions of alcohol, p in v, no mention of protection, slight praise kink?
requests are open for my Live on Air event. interested? click here for more info!! 📺
Most evenings, he’s kissing you goodbye out on the street. Jack on the way to work, and you on the way to the bar wearing the shortest skirt money can buy, with your girlfriends in tow.
He gets at least ten messages before the night’s over: a blurred selfie once the margaritas kick in, half a dozen ‘I miss you’ texts with far too many kisses at the end of them, a video of you screaming along to a song you know he loves and eventually, once you’re back home in bed, a Tiktok link that either leads to two cuddling cats with ‘this is sooooo us jackieeemekd!’ beneath it or — on those kinds of nights — a scenic view (of a lake or a mountain, who cares?) with ‘i need you so bad rn’ written in a yellow font across it.
Those nights are his favourite. You’re insatiable at the best of times but as soon as a drop of alcohol is in your system, you turn feral — and Jack loves it.
It doesn’t matter that it’s barely turned seven in the morning. Or that he hasn’t showered after a twelve hour shift.
As soon as you hear the familiar, dull thud of his duffel bag hitting the floor, you’re up, eyelids still drowsy as you crawl to the edge of the bed and lock your hungry gaze onto him.
All Jack can do is smile as he drags a hand through his silver curls, because after ten minutes of pretending to sleep beside one another, where you grind your ass excruciatingly slow against his hardening cock, he’ll give in.
In an instant, you’ll be on your back, Jack’s large hands coming up to cup your chest and squeeze. You sigh, hips wriggling in anticipation, and he takes that as a sign to slide his hands down your stomach and over your hips.
He’ll press a feverish kiss to your lips, groaning into your mouth and scrunching his eyes shut tightly as his clothed crotch bucks up against you — no better than a teenage boy when it comes to you.
Your nails — pretty, pink and french-tipped — dig into his shoulders, desperately trying to have him closer to you than he already is.
And, God, when you let out that needy, little whine, Jack knows exactly what you’re asking for. You don’t have to say anything, he’s already stuffing you full of his cock.
Your lips part and your head lolls back and then you’re past the point of return, where nothing can bring your poor, fucked-out brain back down to earth.
Jack’s pumping in and out of you, chest heaving and breathing deeply through his nose as he grunts. One of your hands is clawing at his chest, and then his biceps and then his back — any bare skin you can get your hands on — and the other is tugging at your lip, trying (and failing) to focus on something that’ll keep you grounded when all you can think about is the way the steady drilling of Jack’s cock feels against your walls.
Your eyes fall shut for no more than a second before Jack’s slowing his pace, forcing you to open them again as you whine.
“There they are…” he grins, cooing at you, “Knew you still had those pretty eyes in there. Keep ‘em on me, sweetheart.”
And he revels in the way your cunt tightens around him as he says it.
dr robby grunting when you accidentally bump into him on your way out of a trauma, your elbow digging harshly into his gut. you feel the softness of his tummy and then his hot huff of breath right over your ear. you sputter out apologies, and he waves you off with a dismissive hand. he shakes his head lowly, staring at the floor with a smile he struggles to conceal.
dr robby grunting when he drives his big hard cock into your weeping cunt. you’re laying on your stomach and he’s pounding into you from behind. you can feel his hairy tummy bump the curve of your spine every time he thrusts in. you feel him breathe hot and heavy in your ear, and cunt cunt clench’s hard around him when his tip bullies your cervix. his big hairy arms are trapping you to the bed , but you wouldn’t have it any other way. he’s not doing this for anything other than his own pleasure. he’s already made you come three times, with his fingers, with his face, and then with his cock. and now it’s his turn. when he comes in your poor abused cunt, it’s with a groan that originates from the back of his throat, and he drops his entire weight onto you. you couldn’t get away even if you wanted to, but that’s okay because you’re right where you wanna be
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POOKIE! I’m so happy that you’re doing planet of the apes stuff.
Please can you write a what happens when you get hurt badly like you got into a fight with a another human and we got are shit rocked. but we end up surviving how would Caesar acted, and proximus maybe noa?
Thank you! Can you make us human please? As well
[Bleed it out] [Caesar|Noa|Koba| Proximus x reader headcanons]
Summary: How do the Apes handle it when you're attacked unprompted by another human? Not well tbh!
Warnings: Reader gets hurt in this one so TW for choking, blunt force trauma, blood, murder, Proximus' being a little unhinged, general stuff you can imagine with a prompt like this. Possibly out of character.
A/N: WOOOOO I am so fucking sorry this took ages anon, I struggled with this prompt for a good while bc I wanted it to be well thought out. I am SO sorry for the wait! I hope you're still around 😭
I also threw in Koba because he came to mind first and his drabble got done with ease. Idk what that was about but welcome back Koba.
Caesar:
- Caesar immediately goes to attack the human, hooting and screeching for some other ape to come to him, it doesn't take long for Rocket to come barreling towards him with Blue eyes not far behind.
-He damn near barks at Blue eyes to go to you, who's laid out on the ground choking for air, hands around your throat as you try and take in oxygen. Blue eyes gingerly pulling you towards him, hooting softly to get your attention on him.
- Returning his gaze to the human man in front of him, it takes every ounce of composure Caesar has to not rip him into shreds, his mind flashing with images of you being choked out against a tree.
- Whether this was Dawn! Caesar or War! Caesar, will decide the outcome of if he kills the man or not.
- Younger Caesar wouldn't, at most roughing up the man, letting Rocket handle dragging the man off to do whatever he deems fit after the Ape king gives him his permission. He doesn't ask what Rocket does, trusting that Rocket followed his words in not killing.
- Older Caesar isn't as merciful, the man is dying. After all he's been through, he is just not willing to take a chance, there is no way he will put you at risk again, nor will he let the other apes possibly be harmed. It's a no brainer.
- Once he finds you being tended to, curled in on yourself with the boys by your side, does he finally sigh a breath of relief.
- Cornelius is hugging you, latched onto your chest as Blue eyes sits by your side, protective of both you and his baby brother.
- Caesar settles himself beside you, a hand running through your hair as you sleep off all the pain and adrenaline that you've suffered through.
- Gets even more protective than thought possible, if you thought it was overkill before that Caesar wouldn't let you be alone without any other ape present, he himself personally will follow you around like a shadow now, to the best of his abilities.
Noa:
- Noa goes to you first, swooping you up into his arms to make sure you're still alive, cradling you against him as he bares his sharp teeth at the human.
- Noa doesn't like killing in general, hes never agreed with taking a life unless necessary. but he considers it when he hears you whimper from the pain, eyes scrunched shut as you bury your face into his chest.
- Anaya and Soona have the the human pinned down, squirming against their hold but it's to no avail, there is no way for them to escape their grasp.
- He has to make a decision on what to do, and eventually calls for Anaya to come and grab you and take you back to the clan, it takes everything in him to let you go, ignoring that you keep whining for him to not leave. But he has to, so Anaya carries you as fast as he can back to the clearing where the horses are, trying to comfort you and crack jokes as best as he can.
- He nods at Soona to let him take over, now looming over the man who put his disgusting hands on you and the growl that escapes him is spine chilling.
- Soona won't tell you what Noa did, nor will He himself. Your questions go unanswered and you realize it's not worth it. Do you really need to know? Noa handled it, he saved you, that's good enough.
- Takes care of you himself, fetching you whatever you want without any hesitation, his duties on hold temporarily until he's seen improvement. Humans are just, so fragile and he's terrified that your injuries will cause permanent issues.
- Noa lets you cling onto him as much as you want, usually one to tease you about you being so physical with him but after the scare you both had, he's the one who wraps himself around you, tucking you into himself so tightly as if to protect you from any threat once so ever.
- Never let's you out of his sight, and while he may not hate humans as a whole, he definitely doesn't the thought of more being out there, you're the only good one, and he has to protect you at any cost.
Koba:
- Koba is immediately killing the human, there is no other way he's gonna go about it.
- Despite what the Bonobo may feel about you, no matter how much he said he'd let you rot and die because the only good human there is a dead one, you're apart of the colony.
-He justifies the overwhelming pit in his stomach from worrying about what Caesar would go through if you were killed, no it isn't due to him secretly enjoying the affection you still bestow him, no, he doesn't care.
- The reality that the other human is dead, covered in warm sticky blood doesn't set in until he turns to make his way to where you lay eerily still on the forest floor.
- He hears other apes coming towards you both, he can hear his heartbeat in his ears and he hears screeching.
- It's coming from himself, his chest rapidly rising up and down as he panics.
- For the first time, Koba is afraid to touch you, scared that if he does, there will be no pulse, and he's yelling for Caesar to do something, his hands moving to painfully grab at his own fur, almost tearing clumps out.
- Koba won't carry you back to the colony, but Luca does. The gorilla trying his best to ignore the tweaking Bonobo following him.
- Doesn't visit you while you're recovering, ignoring everyone's attempts to convince him to, the fear he felt when he thought you were gone was too much, unexpected emotions filling his mind.
- Old man is stressed the fuck out over you, save him.
Proximus:
- You're off with Sylva on am excursion, permitted by Proximus. It's a common occurrence at this point, so there isn't any cause for alarm.
- The Silverback has to leave you just for a moment, and that's when you get attacked, and he feels his heart drop.
- Has to make a choice to either hunt down the human who attacked you, or bring you back to Proximus and have medical treatment.
- He scoops you up as carefully as he can, taking you home, dreading what the leader will say when he sees that Sylva had failed ro protect you.
- When Proximus sees you knocked out, blood pooling at your temple, he fucking loses it.
- Snarling and snapping orders for apes to come and help you now, his fur standing on end, his eyes feral as he looks down at you on your cot, growling.
- Sends a search party out for the human that attacked you, he doesn't care how long it takes, he's gonna exhaust every ape if he has to.
- He himself doesn't leave your side, fingers busy with brushing your hair from your forehead, only moving when another ape who's in charge of treating you comes by.
- When whoever attacked you gets inevitably caught, he doesn't get his own hands dirty though. He's not above it, but gives you the choice in killing the person, or Sylva himself doing it.
- He won't judge you on either one you choose, but he does force you to watch. He's kinda fucked up for that but it proves to everyone just how important you are to him, so no one ever thinks they can get away with bringing you harm again.
𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Caesar x F! H! Reader
𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: After the storm and seeing the domesticity between his sons and you, he cannot help but come to terms with his feelings for you.
A/n: MERRY CHRISTMAS & HAPPY HOLIDAYS MY PotA FAMILY!! My gift to you all this holidays is a fluffy Caesar fic!! Hope you all have a wonderful time and enjoy the fic!
Please like, reblog and comment. Your support and comments is what fuels me to keep writing
☆彡･::･★彡･::･☆彡
From the day Caesar brought you into the colony, his heart never truly returned to its place.
You had been weak then, exhausted, wounded, human in a world that had learned to fear them. Some apes watched with narrowed eyes, fingers tight on their weapons. Others whispered that you would bring danger. Caesar heard them all… and promptly ignored them.
“She stays,” he had said.
You were human but you did not push yourself into their world, but you listened, learned, waited... Some apes never fully trusted you, their eyes following your steps, their hands ready and you couldn’t blame them. Others softened over time, drawn to your gentle nature, to the way you spoke as if every life before you mattered. You never tried to prove yourself.
But you learned which apes preferred distance and which allowed closeness. Learned the rhythm of the colony, the way voices lowered at dusk, the unspoken rules of space and respect. When some apes turned away from you, you didn’t chase for their approval and when others warmed up to you, you accepted them with quiet gratitude.
What surprised Caesar most was how you treated his sons.
Even in your maternal affections towards them, you never tried to replace Cornelia. Never took what was not yours. You simply were there, a steady presence for his sons, gentle hands, soft words. If Blue Eyes wanted help weaving or asked about the old human world, you answered. If Cornelius fussed or cried, you soothed him with patience that never felt forced. You never claimed them just simply filled the spaces where fear or loneliness settled offering warmth, stories, steady hands. Blue Eyes grew used to sitting beside you and Cornelius slept more soundly when you were near.
Caesar watched, month after month, in silence, his chest aching in a way he did not yet have words for.
Seasons shifted as the colony grew used to your laughter, to the sound of your voice drifting between shelters. Some apes still watched carefully— fewer now, others greeted you openly. Children followed you like little ducks, some perched on you, others holding your hands. Elders listened when you spoke and Caesar...
Caesar found himself looking for you before meetings, listening for the characteristic pitter-patter of your footsteps, measuring his days by whether he had last spoken to you.
He told himself it was gratitude.
He told himself it was trust.
He told himself many things, but none of them quieted his heart.
The night the storm came, the sky split open as thunder roared low and deep, echoing through the trees. Lightning flared in distant flashes, lighting the sky white. The wind rose violent, uneasy and wild.
Cornelius whimpered.
Caesar felt it immediately, the small, frightened sounds, the tension in his youngest son’s body. He moved toward him, but before he could reach him, you were already there.
“It’s all right,” you murmured, gathering the baby ape gently into your arms as Cornelius clutched your shirt, trembling and hiding his face in your neck, seeking warmth and security. You sat down in the cover of the hut, rocking him slowly as another rumble passed through the sky. Blue Eyes hesitated before joining, sitting close enough that your shoulders touched.
Thinking of ways of soothing the baby chimp, you remembered a song you used to sing to yourself at nights such as these. Softly, you began to sing, not loudly, not to perform but to soothe the apes in the refuge with you. Humming a soft, steady melody. Old, mournful and beautiful, like wind through branches, your voice rose and fell with the storm, calm where the sky was fierce.
You rested your cheek against Cornelius’ head, a small nostalgic smile in your lips as you began to sing.
“A young man walked through the forest
With his quiver and hunting bow
He heard a young girl singing
And followed the sound below"
The other apes quieted, listening and as some leaned closer, others stilled where they stood. They did not know all the words, but they understood tone, the way sorrow and beauty twined together.
Cornelius relaxed against your chest, the vibrations of your voice soothing his nerves while Blue Eyes’ shoulders eased, breathing a sigh of relief. And one by one, other apes drew closer non threatening, just listening. Soon you were surrounded by the other younglings, who had found refuge in your lap, legs or side.
“There he found the maiden
Who lives in the willow
He called to her as she listened
From a ring of toadstools, red"
Maurice frowned slightly, understanding dawning. A maiden bound to a tree, a spirit tied to her land.
“Come with me, my maiden
Come from thy willow bed…"
Cornelius stirred, uneasy against your chest, your arms tightened protectively.
“She looked at him serenely
And only shook her head."
A murmur passed through the listeners, a recognition of the meaning.
“See me now, a ray of light in the moon dance.
See me now, I cannot leave this place.
Hear me now, a strain of song in the forest.
Don’t ask me to follow where you lead"
Blue Eyes’ brow furrowed in concern, his head finding your shoulder while Caesar felt something shift deep in his chest.
“A young man walked through the forest
With a flower and coat of green,
His love had hair like fire
Her eyes an emerald sheen
She wrapped herself in beauty
So young and so serene
He stood there under the willow
And he gave her the yellow bloom”
The apes understood this part easily; Courtship, admiration, beauty offered with open hands.
“Girl, my heart you’ve captured
Oh, I would be your groom…"
Some of the younger apes that rested in a circle at your feet exchanged glances. Love. A promise.
“She said she’d wed him never
Not near, nor far, nor soon."
The meaning settled like ash around the hut, because love does not mean surrender.
Your voice returned, heavier now, edged with warning.
“See me now, a ray of light in the moon dance
See me now, I cannot leave this place.
Hear me now, a strain of song in the forest
Don’t ask me to follow where you lead.”
Caesar’s breath caught as your voice softened but didn’t falter.
“A young man walked through the forest
With an axe sharp as a knife.
I'll take the green—eyed fairy
And she shall be my wife.
With her, I'll raise my children.
With her, I'll live my life.
The maiden wept when she heard him
When he said he'd set her free.”
A low growl sound passed through the crowd from several apes listening intently. Fear.
Anger
“He took his axe and used it
To bring down her ancient tree
Now your willow’s fallen
Now you belong to me"
No ape needed translation for this, they knew the feeling, they understood perfectly the force.
The Ownership.
Destruction in the name of love.
“See me now (see me now, see me now) a ray of light in the moon dance
See me now (see me now, see me now) I cannot leave this place.
Hear me now (hear me now, hear me now) a ray of light in the moon dance
Don't ask me (don't ask me) to follow where you lead.”
Caesar’s heart clenched painfully as he looked across from you to the serene look in your face, your closed eyes as your head rested against Blue eyes, Cornelius quietly resting against your chest, your chin softly rested upon his head when you sang the final verses, that came like a quiet elegy.
“She followed him out of the forest
And collapsed upon the earth.
Her feet had walked but a distance
From the green land of her birth.”
You rocked Cornelius more gently now as his breath evened out in quiet sleep, voice trembling just slightly.
“She faded into a flower,
That would bloom for one bright eve."
Silence reigned as the loss of the fairy settled in the hearts of the ape colony.
“He could not take from the forest
What was never meant to leave~"
As the song ended the storm had softened. Cornelius slept deeply against your chest, ear pressed against your heartbeat. Blue Eyes’ breathing was slow and even as he too had fallen asleep against your shoulder. Around them, the apes stood not just soothed, but thoughtful.
Caesar stood frozen, his heart beating erratically.
He understood the song fully now.
He watched the way Cornelius trusted you completely. The way Blue Eyes leaned closer without thinking. The way the apes, even the ones wary of your presence, had gathered, their tension fading as your song wrapped around them.
This human woman had done what Caesar’s strength and command never could.
She had belonged.
Caesar felt it then in the sharp and overwhelming beating of his heart, as if it had been pulled straight from his chest and placed in his hands. ‘This is what love looks like’, something inside him whispered. ‘Not possession. Not fear. But presence.’
Love that cages destroys.
Love that demands breaks what it claims.
Love that honors allows life to remain whole.
You looked up at him then, eyes warm, uncertain, open and in that moment, Caesar finally accepted what his heart had been telling him for months.
You were not a threat, neither were you a guest.
You were family.
And he– He was in love.
He stepped forward, finally sitting next to you and his sons, and spoke quietly, so only you could hear. “Thank you… for choosing us without leaving yourself behind.” he said quietly.
Not as a leader. Not as a protector.
But as a father, as a man who had finally understood his own heart.
You smiled, warm and gentle, as if you had always known. You laid your head on his chest as Cornelius slept peacefully and Blue Eyes smiled faintly in his sleep, and finally, Caesar felt peace settle into his chest.
The storm had passed and the forest had listened, and accepted you as one.
That night, as the colony settled back into sleep, Caesar remained near, no longer watching from afar, no longer afraid of the truth. In the wake of the storm, something strong and steady had taken root like a song in the trees.
After that night, Caesar had decided he must court you properly. Although he does not court the way humans do. There are no grand gestures, no declarations. Instead, there are small offerings, the language of his people, the language of survival and trust.
He brings you fruit before meetings, always the ripest. He walks beside you instead of ahead. When disputes rise in the colony, his voice lowers instinctively if you’re near, as though he doesn't want the sharp edges of leadership to cut you.
Of course, you noticed but not all at once, slowly over time.
Sometimes you thank him with a smile that lingers just long enough to make his chest ache. Sometimes you touch his arm when you speak to him, brief and unthinking, almost instinctual, and he has to still himself so he does not lean into it like a starving thing.
He learns your habits, like the humming while working, like your preference between dawn or dusk. You listen more than speak but when you do speak, it is with care, as if words are seeds and not all soil deserves them and Caesar learns to wait.
Others notice too. Some apes soften further, seeing how you fit gently into their lives. The younger ones always look and giggle like they know something you’re not aware of yet. Others remain wary even though they cannot deny how the children seek you out, how calm settles when you’re near.
Everyone sees how Caesar looks at you, not like a leader that surveys a responsibility but rather like a man looks at the place he belongs.
It all happens on a quiet night.
No storms. No danger. Just the low sound of insects and the slow breathing of the forest.
Cornelius sits between you, small hands gripping your fingers as you help him stack smooth stones. Blue Eyes works nearby, carving marks into wood, glancing up every now and then to include you in his quiet commentary of which wood makes the best arrows.
Caesar sits slightly apart, watching. Always watching.
This is what undoes him.
Not battle, nor loss. But this peace, this domesticity.
Caesar has had very little calm domesticity in his life.
Cornelius leans into your side, sleepy and trusting. You adjust without thinking, your arm coming around him, protective but light and Blue Eyes smiles faintly, content as he watches from the corner of his eye.
They look like a family and the realization strikes Caesar so sharply he has to look away.
I did not plan this. I did not choose it, but It grew anyway.
He thinks of Cornelia, of what she would have wanted. Of how she loved strength, yes, but also kindness. How you have never tried to replace her.
You simply loved what remains.
‘If I speak, I risk everything… But if I stay silent, I lose myself.’
Cornelius yawns and you laugh softly, kissing the top of his head, a simple thing, instinctive but it makes Caesar stand.
“Come,” he says quietly. “It is late.”
Blue Eyes nods and gathers his tools. You lift Cornelius easily, gathering him in your arms as though you had done so all your life. You move together toward their hut, the tallest overlooking the rest of the colony. Later, when the boys are asleep, Caesar finds himself alone with you by the dying fire.
The silence is not awkward but it is full of feelings boiling over.
He stares at the flames, searching for words that will not fracture what you have built until he finds his courage as Caesar finally speaks.
“I watched you tonight.” You turn toward him with a small smile, curious but not alarmed.
“You do that a lot,” you gently quip, looking at his serious green eyes. He huffs, it was true.
Caesar exhales slowly, reigning in his uneven breathing.
“My sons trust you,” he says. “The colony trusts you.”
You wait with batted breath.
“Caesar trusts you,” he adds, voice rough with honesty. You don’t interrupt as Caesar finally looks at you, a vulnerable twinkle in his green eyes.
‘If I do not speak now, I never will.’
“Caesar… did not know,” he says, carefully, testing his words “that love could be quiet.”
Your breath stills in your chest, eyes widening at the vulnerable leader before you.
“Caesar thought it was… fire. Or pain. Or something Caesar had to fight for.” He shakes his head slightly, huffing in disbelief. “But you… you came without force. You stayed without being asked. You care without taking.” His hands curl against his knees. “and Caesar cannot help but…”
His eyes once again find yours, green seeking (e/c).
“I love you.” The words fall between the both of you, unadorned. True.
“I do not ask you to follow me,” he says, voice low. “I only ask… that you walk beside me… if you choose.”
Silence.
Then you reach out not afraid and take his hand in yours, grip warm. Certain.
“I already am,” You respond and slowly you pull your face closer to his, breathing against his lips, foreheads collide in a loving confession.
Later that same night, Caesar lies awake next to you in his nest, listening to the breathing of his sons and the quiet presence of the woman who slowly became part of their world.
The forest is still and for the first time in a long while, so is his heart.
Because he finally has learned how to love without cutting down the tree that shelters him.
☆彡･::･★彡･::･☆彡
A/n: Did y'all think I would forget my ape fam this Holiday season??? Here you go, our mighty Caesar and some fluffy moments with Blue Eyes and Cornelius! Let me know your thoughts, please!! Should I make a taglist for all my PotA fics? Tell me if you'd like to be tagged in all my PotA fics!! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊
