I know people like to write brank as billy spoiling frank because hes got so much damn money that he hardly knows what to do with it, but i think they spoil each other, just in different ways
Yeah i agree that billys rich as hell, so he always buys frank nice new clothes with higher thread counts than franks ever seen, takes him out to expensive dinners, gets him custom-made suits, drags him to wine tasting parties (even though frank cant tell the difference between any of them and thinks they all taste the same), gets him all sorts of nice hair and skincare products (he was mortified when he found out how long frank had been using 2-in-1), even picks out his outfits for him because a sweatjacket with nothing underneath is not acceptable to go to an interview in, and so on
But i also think that frank spoils billy too, just in a different way- he does it in a more sentimental manner than a financial one. Frank will cook homemade meals for billy because he knows billy seldom had them as a kid, annoy the shit out of him by constantly reminding him to drink water, cut his hair for him (frank's the only person billy lets touch his hair), take him on cliche dates like picnics in the park or to niche coffee shops, and all sorts of other dumb mushy things because franks a hopeless romantic at heart
What more can i say, i just love the idea of how frank and billys love languages differ from each other and how thatd play out in their relationship
Kinktober day 26: pregnancy (courtesy of @the-purity-pen and her smutty, smutty prompt list)
Warnings: I am kinda shocked I was capable of writing something so soft? Pregnancy (obviously), oral (f receiving) p in v.
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Rough hands spanned the globe of your belly, bringing with them warmth and comfort; the kind of comfort required on a day like this.
Rain pelted the window. Lightning shimmered and thunder cracked violently, but here you were safe. Here there were clean sheets and a crackling fire and the familiarity of home.
Frank's breath was hot against the skin of your thighs as his tongue worked magic between your folds and you were lost in him, your fingers tangling in that short, dark hair.
'I'll wear your belly like a hat', he once joked. You had shoved at his shoulder and cackled until tears streaked down your cheeks. There was no laughing now, as his tongue twisted a tender orgasm and that familiar heat bloomed low in your core.
His eyes were dark as he rose up from between your legs, his chin wet with your slick as he pressed his mouth to yours, tongue parting your lips. No, there was no laughing now. There was nothing but the soft desperation that he found himself battling each time he took you, each time you gave yourself to him and trusted your body to his bloodied hands.
He still couldn't believe he would get to do this again, get to be a father and a husband. And he would get to do it with you, the person who had seen all his darkness; who simply tucked his demons in and loved him for the broken man he was.
"Frank", you murmured, your voice soft and trembling, as he arranged himself behind you, your back to his muscled chest, and pushed home. He kissed your shoulders, your neck; finally grasping your chin to pull your lips to his as his hips rocked.
His low groan pulsed through you, settling in your bones as his teeth grazed the skin of your shoulder. You clutched at the arm that held you tight, fluttering around him.
"Thank you", he whispered, so softly you almost missed it. His hips rolled and rocked and again you were lost in the storm. He was everywhere, all at once, and you were overwhelmed by it; pulled under and twisted up. You reached back to cradle his jaw, back arching as he trembled and stilled, his release hot and throbbing and deep.
His hands travelled back to your belly, thumbs swiping gently over the stretch marks that now pulled at your skin. He nuzzled the nape of your neck, his lips soft as he peppered you with kisses.
"Thank you", he whispered again, timing it with the break of thunder.
You gave him privacy, pretending you didn't hear the crack in his voice as you settled deeper into his embrace.
Summary: Steve takes you on a date. Thought you didn’t like those?
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, some Frank Castle x Reader
Warnings: Language. Smut. Arguing. Toxic Relationships. You know, typical shit from me.
Word Count: 2.5k
A/N: I’m trying to fight the Writer’s Block Demon. This is an attempt. This is a part of a series called Outside the Lines. Not necessary to read any other one-shot to get this. Also, this gif isn’t mine. I found it in google. Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Frank doesn't give up being a terror. There are weeks you go without seeing him and when you do come to see him again, he's got new war stories and a haunted look in his eyes. Some he tells you about, some he doesn't, you don't pry. You want to pry though, and that's the scary part. You want to know him. Not about him killing people or the shit he does at night. You want to know the man prior to the origin story. Who was he before the death of his family? Has he always been a man of little words with a short fuse? It's a keepsake he, perhaps out of respect for his wife, doesn't divulge.
The desire to know more is what tips you off that you're getting attached. Both of you are. Your darkness intertwines with his, his demons sweet-talk yours. A relationship, as dysfunctional as it may be, that's what it appears you're in. Feels like it, too. It's disgusting. Attachment is an ugly bitch trait and will only hurt you in the long run.
Ruin it. That's what you have to do. It's easier if he leaves now.
"Did you take Maria on dates?" You pick away the tomatoes on your sandwich, fingers itching to pick at Frank's scabs that just won't heal. His hole-in-the-wall apartment may have been cramped, but it's a helluva lot more snug after your question hits his ears. Frank's mid-bite when he looks at you, eyes trying to read yours. You keep your face stale like bread, hoping you're as unreadable as he can be.
"I'm eating right now," he says. It's a warning to kill whatever it is gnawing at you. "Trying to enjoy a chopped cheese."
"The sentimental kind, right? Long walks through the park, handholding, golly-gee-Willikers let's grab ice cream and-"
He harshly calls your name, like you're one of his Privates and you're obligated to listen to his command. "Stop it."
"-Maybe feed the ducks on the walk even though you shouldn't feed them fucking bread, you moron. Throw change into a street performers empty guitar case because today has been every-so perfect and you know you're in store for a riveting night of warm milk and missionary."
"Something you wish you had, a goddamn sliver of it," he snaps. It's all your doing. You push him off the edge, gleefully watching as he falls into the anger you're supposed to temporarily relieve him of. "But you're too fucked in the head to let it happen."
Now you have an easy out.
He says it like he's never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Like you're the Sun on this dreary New York morning. He stands on the stoop of your brownstone, smiling an awestricken smile.
It sets off fireworks in your stomach. You've been in his presence for thirty seconds and somehow he's got you feeling like a demure, inexperienced woman.
"It's just a dress, Steve," you say motioning to your rather basic sundress.
Maybe it is just a dress, same as today is just a Saturday but, it takes Steve aback nonetheless. For your relationship to be no-strings-attached, Steve (for one) is pleasantly surprised you said yes to this and (for two) that you put in effort. Lips painted a dirty shade of red, the high rise of your cheeks shimmering, you're stunning. He didn't think you'd care much about this as much as he did.
"Stop smiling," you deadpan, "don't read too much into the tea leaves. We're having coffee and that's it."
Start's that way. Him walking you to a chic coffee shop whilst you both chat along the stroll about insignificant things. A coffee shop which is, by the way, way out of his depth. The menu is handwritten on a chalkboard and he can't understand the language even with his glasses on. You have to explain to him what a Chemex is and why it makes coffee taste better. He lets you order something for him and watches as you thoroughly take the time to make a decision on what he'd enjoy. Or as you so delicately put, placing an index finger against those lips he achingly wanted to kiss,"What type of coffee man is Steve Rogers."
Turns out he's an iced blueberry infused coffee kind of guy.
Doesn't taste half bad. It's certainly different than anything he'd pick out and he's happy to be outside his norm. The new world is still very much full of surprises that he wants to explore. "Back in my day we just drank it black."
"Did you really hit me with a back in my day."
"I'm a century old, I think I deserve to use that phrase every now and then."
"Could that body of yours handle caffeine back then? I mean, before the rippling muscles and fast metabolism."
You hope he's not too put-off by your abrasive question, but Steve is an open book. The man hosts group therapy sessions, you should know this by now.
"No," he laughs, "Bucky gave me a cup once and I couldn't sleep for two days."
He mentions Bucky so easily is as if this isn't the first time he's spoken to you about him. You wonder where he ended up in all of this and strangely hoped Steve wasn't hurting like you were during this Dust Bowl.
"I'll tell you this, I got some great artwork out of it."
"Right? When I'm fully awake I can't help but judge everything I attempt to create, but let me paint after I've pulled an all-nighter and taught a group of fourth graders and I create masterpieces."
"The lack of sleep means inner critique is too tired to care."
"I'm interested in seeing your art. I can't imagine you having an inner critique."
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
"Oh, I'm all over New York."
"What's that mean?"
"Means you gotta know where to look," you say, taking a sip of your latte that has a cute mint leaf sitting atop a generous amount of foam. "I want to guess that you're influenced by abstract expressionism, but it seems too angsty. Too much inner suffering."
"That's after my time."
"Dude, you were in that ice hella long," you say, "Are you at least familiar with Rothko and Pollock?"
"I've been to the Met if that's what you're asking."
"Steve, we gotta catch you up."
"Sounds like we need another date." He's smiling that charming and innocent smile again and your butterflies flutter on cue. Jesus, being bashful is not your thing, but even an ice queen like you aren't immune to its power. You have to turn to the window that been stained with raindrops. Looks like it's started drizzling already and neither of you've brought an umbrella.
"You know, I gotta admit," he starts, "I don't go on dates too much."
You draw flowers on the condensation caked upon the window's glass. "Your job probs doesn't allow it. Who has time for coffee dates when you're trying to save the world?"
"It's plenty of down time. Paperwork and logistics means there's a lot more quiet than the public seems to think. It's just... I never thought I was the go-on-a-date type." You're not sure what that sentence means for him, but it makes a world of sense for you. Hits a little too close to home.
"What I'm trying to say is," He takes his hand atop yours and guides your brushstrokes to create more flowers beside the garden you've already started. "I'm really happy you said yes."
"Me too," you whisper. It's so unlike you to reveal anything let alone those simple words. And so quickly. Somehow, talking to him is easy. You don't even feel the weight of disgust after you announce it. In fact, you're more anxious than anything to see how he responds and when he doesn't your word vomit becomes more pronounced. "I see colors when I'm around you."
His face goes to stone, shoulders stiffening as his grasp on your hand tightens. "You want to get out of here?"
You said you weren't going to sleep with him. You told yourself that in the shower, again when you were putting on makeup, and a third time seconds before you opened your door to meet him outside. The lie detector determined, that was a lie. You were going to sleep with him. On the floor of your apartment's entrance as a matter of fact.
Clothes soaked from the rain, the thin fabric clings to your skin no more than Steve's hands. One is against your hip, ruffling your dress all the way up against your tops of your thighs. It's to give his other hand better access between your legs so he can roll lazy circles against your clit and keep your rain stained body burning.
"Keep going," he strains through lips that've been stained a muted punch color from your lipstick. Lids heavy, he keeps his lust-blown-out eyes on you as you ride him with the languid roll of your hips. The pace is slower than you typically prefer, but the intimacy is exhilarating beyond belief.
Your heart pounds and moans tremble from your ever-open mouth. God, he won't stop looking at you like you're the prettiest thing. You want to crack one of you mean quips about it, but there's a string he's pulling that keeps you on good behavior. It's the way he's unafraid to moan your name and the pressure he knows to keep at your core even if you're about to whine his name.
"Shit, Steve." It's agonizing, the slow buildup makes you want to scream.
"I know, I know," he groans, "keep going for me. Please."
He wants to unravel you of that you're sure. The string of yours he wants to pull and pull and pull until there's nothing left but what's in his hands. You cover your mouth at how loud you must be for your neighbors, but god, one bounce of you hips and for a split second he's lost control and snapped into you. Punched the wind out your throat. It shows you just how hard he must want to fuck you right now.
You beg him to do it. Plead it nice and sweet when you're sinking deep onto him. Do it once more for good measure with your nails clawing into the cotton of his shirt.
"Next time, I promise." The hand once on your waist, he takes and intertwines with yours. He wants this to last, to be a memory you both can share, but when you're gasping that you're coming, quivering and sloppy with your movements, Steve learns he is an impatient man. He wants to watch you do that again.
"Fuck it," he swears, and with a lightning-quick movement, you're on your back. He's going to give you exactly what you've begged for.
The brink of dawn tinges the sky in lilacs and smokey blues. Like clockwork, Steve is up. He can't sleep past daybreak. You on the other hand, sleep safely in your bed.
It's funny, in the calm he finally gets to understand you more. Together, you're burning, so much for him to take in that it's hard for him to keep up. Here, with only soft chirping outside your window, he can sink into things.
Spray paint and art supplies litter the floor along with a wardrobe of clothing. Cleanliness isn't your strong suit and oddly enough, he enjoys it. You didn't go out of your way to hide who you are.
Next to his feet, under a camisole, is a sketchbook. Curiosity takes him, he knows he's supposed to be leaving, but he's interested in what you draw and does what he considers is innocent snooping. Mixed media assemblages, portraiture, you're really good. Better than me for sure, he thinks. He flips through a few more pages and one sketch stops him from pulling another page.
A charcoal lining of a skull. Not any skull, a very specific one. A symbol. Hard lines that extend on and one and until they give the appearance of blood. He gives you another look and suddenly the gears click into their proper place.
He places it back in its rightful spot and you'll never know he touched it.
So he hopes.
#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #frank castle x reader #steve rogers#smut #steve rogers smut #captain america x reader
This is gonna be the hottest take I’ve written in a long while, so here we go:
“Falcon and the Winter Soldier” was the more conservative-leaning show when compared to “The Punisher”
It feels weird writing that out since, at the surface level, it feels like it should be the other way around. Remember back in 2017 when there was a lot of pushback on the Punisher TV series because it was seen as right-wing propaganda? A lot of people just saw “ex-military guy with machine gun” and immediately made the connection to the alt-right movement. It didn’t help that the alt-right loved the Punisher symbolism, especially the military and police.
Meanwhile, there’s “Falcon and the Winter Soldier”, which technically should’ve been the more anti-conservative series. MCU Steve Rogers was set up as being anti-authoritarian and we were getting a black Captain America, something that closed-minded people would classify as “woke-pandering”.
But if you go past that and actually look at both series’ content, it feels like there’s a clear divide between what people are seeing at the surface level versus what actually happens in the shows.
Yes, the Punisher features an ex-military guy who uses guns because he wants to take the law into his own hands. But the show also features:
1) The military industrial complex as the main villain of season 1 and Christian extremism as the main villain of season 2
2) The whole show was centered on criticism of the Iraq War/War on Terror and how the military treats its veterans. In fact, the criticism wasn’t even subtle since the main plot of season 1 was about how the corrupt CIA officer used the Iraq War for his own corrupt goals. Just switch out “drugs” with “oil” in the plot and you’ll get a good chunk of the anti-Bush criticisms during his presidency. (EDIT: I know he served in Afghanistan as well, I just wanted to focus on Iraq)
3) The secondary villain of season 1 was a far-right domestic terrorist (they even called him out as a terrorist). The secondary villain of season 2 was an Aryan Brotherhood white supremacist.
4) When you think about it, the Punisher only exists because he’s anti-U.S. government. He feels that the systems of America have failed the people by letting criminals and corruption run rampant, so he’s taking matters into his own hands. I’m just saying, it’s weird to characterize the Punisher as a conservative-friendly character when the character is basically saying, “Fuck America and all of its corruption”.
Now, let’s take a look at “Falcon and the Winter Soldier”:
1) Very pro-U.S. military. I mean, that’s a given since Sam and Bucky served in the military, but there’s a clear sense of jingoism throughout the series. Especially the opening fight scene.
2) Tried to redeem John Walker at the end (or at least, tried to show that he’s not that bad of a guy). Remember, Walker is supposed to be the dark, far-right version of Captain America. They deliberately changed that for the show for...reasons. It’s like Marvel was skittish to actually portray John like how he is in the comics. Or at least, they were skittish to portray a version of Captain America as a villain.
3) Despite all the bad things America did, the series’ ending message was that we could do better as a nation. That even though our history is unclean, we can do better because that’s what America does. Just saying, the show’s message that America is still awesome even with its flaws and wrongdoing feels like a conservative talking point.
4) The villains are anti-government anarchists that want a world without borders. Unlike Walker, they don’t get a chance at redemption. Out of all the Captain America villains that the series could’ve gone with, they went with the explicitly left-wing one.
5) Probably the most anti-American moment in the series would be Isaiah Bradley’s story since that was a direct criticism of the U.S. military. But everything turns out okay because Sam put Isaiah’s statue in the museum. No one is held accountable because that would mean the U.S. government would have to face accountability and we can’t have that in our patriotic TV series.
Okay, I’ll stop there. Just as a disclaimer, I’m not trying to change anyone’s minds about these shows, nor am I trying to say you should like or hate them. I just wanted to discuss how these shows and characters are perceived by the fandom.
#✫・゜the ghost revived 『 james barnes 』 #✫・゜the man with unmatched determination 『 steve rogers 』 #✫・゜not a damn clone ; but so much more 『 yelena belova 』 #✫・゜aww barton no 『 clint barton 』 #✫・゜i am iron man 『 tony stark 』 #✫・゜the god of thunder 『 thor 』 #✫・゜the spy following his own rules 『 james bond 』 #✫・゜the tomb raider 『 lara croft 』 #✫・゜never said i was a pilot 『 sam wilson 』 #✫・゜chaos magic embraced 『 wanda maximoff 』 #✫・゜out of this world 『 carol danvers 』 #✫・゜i do stupid in spades 『 john constantine 』 #✫・゜the man with a gun and a vengeance 『 frank castle 』 #✫・゜the wizard guy 『 stephen strange 』 #✫・゜more beast than man 『 logan howlett 』
I wish the venn diagram of supernatural and ghost rider fans was bigger than just me and the people 5 years ago who wanted to whitewash johnny using jensen because he is the epitome of "You can't be gay you ride a motorcycle"
#im not even kidding he kissed frank castle in canon
Frank has all the feels in this little bit of fluff for @frattweek day 2 prompt 'Box'.
Just a little something while I struggle (manfully) to complete prompt 4. Where is prompt 3 you say? Well, I only worked out what the story would be as I woke this morning so that is going to have to wait until everything else is done. Why yes, procrastination is my middle name.