#Frank castle x y/n | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chvoswxtch · 1 day ago

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crush

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you wanna show frank your gratitude for taking on a project for you, but he has other plans.

warnings: swearing, long haired bearded frank (yes that needs a warning), explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 2k

a/n: the first time I listed to crush by ethel cain I immediately thought of frank, & then I saw tons of edits with him to this song, & this has been stuck in my head ever since. I just recently renovated my own kitchen, so naturally I thought about something like this the whole time I was doing it. anyway, this is primarily for @thyme-in-a-bubble & @castawaycreature but the rest of y'all are welcome to stay. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

he looks like he works with his hands, and smells like marlboro reds

All you’d done was offhandedly mention to Frank that you wanted to redo the kitchen. Some new paint, new cabinet handles, maybe spruce up the backsplash with different tiles. It wasn’t even a full blown project in your brain, more of an idea of a project for when you had the time and energy. But Frank being Frank took that and ran with it.

Needless to say, you were not at all prepared for the sight you came home to that evening.

As soon as you walked through the front door, you heard a loud mechanical whirring noise coming from the kitchen. Perplexity knit between your brows as you hung your keys up by the front door, following the familiar sound of power tools.

“Frank?”

Rounding the corner of the entryway, you stopped dead in your tracks and your breath hitched. The kitchen was in complete disarray. The cabinet doors had been taken completely off the hinges and were laid out in neat rows on top of a large canvas drop cloth that was spread out on the floor. There were sporadic piles of dark beige dust, evidence of the wood being sanded before it had been neatly painted that rich shade of green you’d been daydreaming about. There were open boxes of new tile and handles on the island, but your attention was immediately drawn away from the organized chaos and towards the source of it.

Frank was kneeling in front of the counter furthest from you, his jeans deliciously snug around his thighs, and the light grey tank top he wore had darkened in certain spots with sweat. There was a glistening sheen covering the exposed portion of his chest that made you want to drag your tongue over the tan skin, but what had heat blooming in your lower belly was the way his biceps bulged as he drilled holes through the drawer he was working on. You could see the clear definition in his arms and his back as he pushed the drillbit through the thick wood, his muscles flexing in a tantalizing way, and the droplets of sweat that cascaded down his veiny forearm were no match for the wetness that had begun to pool between your thighs.

He was so laser focused on the task at hand that he hadn’t noticed you, hadn’t even heard you call his name, which worked in your favor to be able to ogle him freely. There was rarely anything Frank did that you didn’t find attractive, but watching him work with his hands…that did something else entirely to you. Watching him do something so manly while looking so rugged with that grown out beard and that mess of unruly curls that were damp against his forehead…it made your mouth water.

When he set the drill down and reached for the pack of screws and one of the new handles, he finally caught sight of you out of the corner of his eye, and he turned his head in your direction. His stoic expression of pure concentration melted into something a little softer. He opened his mouth to say something, but then noticed the way you were staring at him. His dark brows quickly furrowed in confusion, mistaking the look on your face for something else.

“What? Said ya wanted to redo the kitchen.”

“I didn’t mean you had to do it all on your own, or right away.”

Frank pursed his lips slightly with a light scrunch of his nose and gave a faint shrug of his broad shoulders, slipping the screws through the holes he’d drilled and lining them up with the openings on the back of the handle.

“Had the day off.”

That almost made you laugh. It was such a Frank thing to say, and do. Of course he’d spent his whole day off doing something you’d mentioned in passing. Frank wasn’t a man of many words, but he was a man of action. He wasn’t always vocal or physical about his affection, but you never had to question how he felt. He showed you in how he treated you, and the things he did for you.

The sweet and thoughtful gesture combined with the way he looked right now had that flame of desire flickering in your lower belly turning into a full blown blaze. Walking over towards where he was still down on his knees, you reached out to push his messy damp curls away from his forehead, smoothing them back with your fingers, and lightly dragged your nails along his scalp in the process.

“Take a break.”

Frank abruptly paused, turning his head to look up at you with those warm brown eyes that could melt you into a puddle on the spot. He knew you like the back of his hand, and he recognized the barely concealed desire in your heated gaze, and heard the breathy need in your voice. He didn’t need to be told twice.

His gaze flickered down to your bare thighs that were right at his eye level before he looked up at you again, and he slowly set down the screwdriver on the floor. He reached for your ankle, lightly trailing his fingertips up your calf, along the back of your knee, before gliding his warm callused hand up your thigh and giving it a squeeze, his fingers teasingly dipping beneath the hem of your skirt.

“Yes ma’am.”

A soft shuddering breath left your lips as Frank held eye contact with you while leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your thigh. Letting out a breathy laugh, you carded your fingers through his hair again, giving it a gentle tug while looking down at him with a grin.

“I should be thanking you for doing all this. You gonna let me?”

Frank let out a quiet grunt when you tugged at his hair gently, and he gripped your hips to pull you directly in front of him just to press your back against the counter, his greedy hands already hiking your skirt up to your hips.

“Why don’t you let me take my gratitude how I want it, yeah?”

He didn’t give you a chance to protest before your panties were pooled around one of your ankles and one of your legs was pulled over his shoulder to open you up for him.

Your grip on his hair instantly tightened, the strands warm and damp against your fingers, unable to stop yourself from tugging him impossibly closer with a satisfied moan feeling that first swipe of his tongue. One of his large hands gripped your thigh that was on his shoulder, digging his blunt nails into your soft flesh, and his other had a tight grip on your hip to keep you steady as you leaned back against the counter and started to roll your hips against his face.

He didn’t stop you. He gave your hip a squeeze of encouragement and moved even closer on his knees, burying his face in your soaked cunt like he couldn’t get enough, and he usually couldn’t.

“Oh f-fuck…Frank…God right there-”

Your eyes nearly crossed when he sealed his lips around your clit and started suckling, and the edge of the counter dug into your back as you arched against it, tugging at his hair with both hands now as sensual moans and breathy pleas flew past your parted lips.

As much as you wanted to come on his pretty face, the desire you felt for him was so much stronger. Giving his hair a sharper tug, you practically had to beg him to relent, which was not a simple task.

“Frankie��please…I want you.”

He gave you only a moment of mercy to gruffly speak against your drenched pussy.

“You got me, baby.”

“I want more.”

Frank chuckled as he turned his head to kiss and nip at your inner thigh.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?”

“Frank.”

Another deep chuckle rumbled in his chest at your desperate whine of his name, and he rubbed his rough hand over your soft skin soothingly.

“What is it, sweetheart? Tell me what ya want.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

Those seemed to be the magic words, and as soon as Frank rose to his full height, you grabbed the front of his tank top that was soaked with sweat and pulled him down for a messy kiss raw with hunger and need. Frank’s tongue parted the seam of your lips to tangle with your own while his large hands roamed down your body to grab your ass and squeeze firmly. His hardened cock was straining against the zipper of his jeans, pressing against your lower belly, begging to be freed. But the second you reached for his belt buckle, he grabbed your hips and swiftly spun you around to bend you over the counter.

The jingle of his belt being unbuckled and his zipper being tugged down were dull in comparison to your own blood pumping in your ears, your heartbeat as loud as raucous thunder. You’d been holding your breath in anticipation, but all the air in your lungs was quickly knocked out when he pushed his hips forward and his thick girth stretched out your snug walls in one swift thrust, nestling so deep you swore you could feel him in your lower stomach.

In an instant you slumped against the counter, and your eyes rolled while your jaw went slack, a choked moan echoing throughout the kitchen. Frank leaned over you, pressing his chest flush against your back, one of his hands gripping your hip while his other snaked around and reached up to wrap his hand around your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze.

He nuzzled his large nose against your neck, kissing and nipping at your heated skin, dragging his tongue along the shell of your ear, rocking his hips against your ass as he fucked you with slow deep strokes, even though everything in him wanted to fuck you with reckless abandon. Frank never rushed anything, but especially not pleasing you.

“Feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. This what you wanted, yeah?”

Blindly reaching behind you, your fingers grasped at whatever you could find to anchor yourself to, the fabric of his tank top clutched tightly in your fingers.

“Frank-”

“I know baby, I know.”

It was almost eerie how well he knew your body, oftentimes better than you did. He knew exactly what you liked, and exactly what you needed, when you needed it. He kept his hold on your throat, but he let go of your hip so he could slip his hand down between your thighs, strumming his fingers over your clit in rapid succession, making you writhe in the limited space you were trapped in between the counter and his large body.

He let out a grunt when he felt you clench around his cock, but he held out on his own pleasure, always making sure you were well satisfied before he even thought about letting go. He let out a quiet moan in your ear when he felt you come for him, felt the warm wetness of your pussy drowning his cock and soaking your inner thighs and the denim of his jeans.

His hips stuttered, and he let out a guttural groan in your ear as he pushed himself flush against you, gripping onto you tightly as he followed your climax. Your pulsing cunt milked his cock in a way that made his forehead drop against your shoulder, and the soft whimper it tore from him made your knees weak and made that desire burn even hotter.

Both of you were panting heavily, and Frank was peppering soft kisses along your neck and shoulder, giving your hip a gentle squeeze before he slowly started to pull out. But little did he know, you were far from finished.

Not even giving him a second to think, you straightened up on your wobbly legs and turned to face him, fisting the front of his tank top as you pushed him backwards and up against the island behind you. Frank looked down at you in bewilderment, his hands instinctively shooting out to grab your hips.

“What-”

“You got to take your gratitude how you want, now I get to say thank you how I want.”

Flashing him a devilish smirk, you kept your eyes locked on his as you sank down to your knees in front of him, and Frank’s confusion quickly transitioned into hunger, his softened cock already stirring once again with need.

“Well this is definitely fuckin’ worth all the goddamn splinters.”

#frank castle #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle smut #frank castle fic #the punisher #the punisher smut #the punisher fic

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kyamiia · 2 days ago

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sex with Frank always feels like you’re on fire.

the drag of his cock in your tight walls always pulls a string of broken moans out of you. He’s so thick and he manages to hit the exact spot that makes your body seize up, a fuzzy feeling that tingles deep within you as your hips buck involuntarily,

“yeah, you’re alright girl.” He coos above you, both large hands splaying across the plushness of your stomach, both to feel your flesh and to hold you down, pulling his hips back and sharply plunge back into you.

Pulling in a sharp gasp from the depths of your chest, it’s high pitched and weak, a pathetic sound as your hands fly to his wrists, fingers circling around his wrists, the wrists that were usually covered in oil, some sort of polish, gun cleaner, blood, all the works.

Frank simply nods at the silent signal, eyebrows furrowing as his jaw clenches, pulling his hips only a few inches back before pushing in a bit softer this time, drawing out a soft mew as you throw your head back, “oh god Frank…” it comes out as a breathy moan as your hips buck towards him, pelvis rubbing against pelvis.

#kyamiia #kyamiia talks #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x reader smut #frank castle x you #the punisher #the punisher tv show #the punisher marvel

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spider-stark · 3 months ago

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SAME SIN

pairing | frank castle x reader

summary | in your darkest hour, matt doesn't answer the phone. but frank does.

warnings | blood, death, violence, attempted robbery, religious trauma, possible infidelity, matt's lowkey kind of a bitch in this but that's ok, probably deviates from canon at times but fuck it we ball, MDNI 18+

word count | 3.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

Blood wept from your fingertips, dripping onto the asphalt.

It had soaked through the man’s shirt. Oozed from the scattered holes in his chest, pooling around his torso. His lungs breathed no air. His eyes didn’t blink, gazing sightless up towards the Heavens.

Sickness hit in a crushing wave.

You doubled over, clutching your stomach as bile surged up your throat, burning over your tongue. The gagging continued long after there was nothing left, saliva dribbling from your bottom lip.

Then there was stillness.

Not the stillness of calm, or peace. But punishment. Sentencing. The solemn gaze of an all-forgiving Father as he stands before you, stone in-hand.

[To kill is a violation of Faith—]

{—You or them?}

The gun had still been smoking when it’d clattered at your feet.

Regret felt like a wet blanket on your shoulders, suffocating in its weight. You couldn’t stand it.

Couldn’t stand.

Asphalt dug into your knees, crumpling at the man's side. Your hands had been shaking as you grabbed his wrist, searching for a pulse, praying for it in the way a sinner prays for absolution.

You found none.

No pulse. No absolution.

Still, you tried. Locked your fingers over his chest—pressing and pressing, trying and trying. Until thick ribs cracked and caved, until your palms were drenched in warmth and death and–

Rain.

It was raining.

Little drops, softly pattering all throughout the alleyway. You watched, dazed, as they slid down the lit-up screen in your hands.

You didn’t remember pulling out your phone, but you remembered making the call.

Calls.

In the Bible, the number seven is considered sacred. Symbolic of divine oaths and promises, of perfection in the purest, most angelic sense.

Seven times you called the Devil.

Seven times he didn’t answer.

You tilted your head back. The rain fell faster, cool drops steady rolling down your cheeks. The sky was a yawning, starless expanse. In the past, you’d always said that’s why you hated the city. The lack of stars—veiled by pollution and human selfishness, replaced by a twinkling skyline made of artificial hope.

But tonight was different. Tonight, you were glad for their absence.

At least the stars hadn’t seen what you’d done.

Blood smeared across the phone screen as you dialed your eighth call. A different tone than before; a number not saved but remembered.

A number you’d promised Matt you’d never call again.

{In case you ever need it—}

[—I don’t trust him.]

What is trust?

Once, it felt like the comfort of sunlight pouring through stained glass windows. Sitting amidst the oaken pews with a man at your side—a soft man dressed in a sharp suit, his glasses tinted red and his heart pure gold.

Now, trust felt like the relief of a call that rang only once. Of cold fear melting into the gruff warmth of another’s voice, heavy with concern as they answered: “You alright?”

You almost laughed.

No. Of course not—because why would you call Frank Castle if you were anything other than desperate?

“Are you busy?” you asked, awkward and hesitant.

In hindsight, the question felt stupid. There was a body lying in front of you, and certainly no amount of busyness took precedence over that. But then, Matt must’ve been busy. Playing dutiful layer or God’s lone soldier. That’s why he hadn’t answered.

Unless…

[Elektra’s just a friend—]

{—That what we are?}

On the other end of the line, Frank urged, “C’mon now, doll, you gotta answer me, alright?” Had he asked something? You hadn’t noticed. “Where’re you at?”

“An alley.”

A rough, humorless chuckle. “Little more specific, sweetheart.”

Five blocks from Matt’s apartment, you thought.

“Off West 51st,” you said.

“Don’t move.” There was the sound of a door slamming, of boots pounding down a flight of stairs. “I’m on my way.”

Panic thrashed in your veins, anticipating the sharp click of a call gone dead. “Wait!” A cry, a plea—but for what? You had no clue what to say next.

You hadn’t told him about the man, or the gun, or the sin.

And Frank hadn’t asked. You knew this was because the Why? for your call hadn’t mattered to him.

Only that you had.

{You call, I come—}

[—Frank Castle is a murderer.]

Your eyes squeezed shut. You went to rub them, then remembered the blood dripping from your hands.

So am I, you thought. So am I.

Frank said your name. Once, twice.

Quietly, you asked, “Will you stay on the phone?”

The sound of another door pushing open, a great whoosh! of air as the city unfolded around him: sirens screaming, traffic blaring. With your eyes closed, you could almost see—shoving from his apartment building, marching down darkened sidewalks with a determined clench in his jaw.

It wasn’t a man coming to save you, nor a vigilante.

It was a soldier.

After drawing in a breath, Frank uttered, “‘Course.”

Time dragged.

Hell’s Kitchen droned around you. Occasionally, Frank would ask: You good? to which you replied: How far are you? At some point, you drifted further from the man’s body. Ended up sitting on the ground, your back pressed to a brick wall.

Your emotions were still fuzzy, as dull as the blunt edge of a knife. But your nerves… those were razor sharp.

You watched both ends of the alleyway. Vigilant, afraid. Your muscles tensed whenever a car door shut too loud, whenever a stranger passed beneath the distant, buzzing streetlights.

What if someone noticed?

Gunshots weren’t such a strange thing in the Kitchen. The Devil couldn’t be everywhere at once, and the cops were either too busy or too lazy to investigate every bang! in the night.

But if someone noticed you like this—curled on the ground, a dead man at your feet and violent red on your skin…

He started it, you reminded yourself. Self-defense is absolvable.

[To a judge? Or to God?—]

God doesn’t matter.

[—Why didn’t you call 9-1-1?]

Why didn’t you answer?

Your grip tightened around the phone. “How far now?”

“Check your nine.” In the second it took for you to envision a clock, Frank had already amended, “Left, sweetheart.” There was the barest hint of a smile in his voice. “Look left.”

You did.

Frank was little more than a formless figure approaching. He was dressed in all black, his hood up against the rain. You couldn’t see his face, but you didn’t need to. His presence was enough to ease the frantic beat of your pulse.

When he was close enough to hear, you hung up the phone. Wiped your nose on your sleeve and sniffed, “Took you long enough.”

Cool and calculating—two descriptors that fit Frank best as he scanned the scene. He took note of the discarded gun, the puddle of watered down blood, the man with three bullets in his chest.

You were the last thing he noted, and the only one to put a crack in his stern exterior.

“Smart enough to practice law,” Frank lightly joked, “but not to read a goddamn clock, huh?”

A laugh sputtered past your lips, melding into a broken sob.

“Paralegals don’t practice,” you argued, ignoring the tears wetting your cheeks. “And I can read a clock just fine, asshole.”

There was a softness to his face, one brow raising. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” So long as it’s in front of you, and you’re telling time and not direction.

Frank hummed, his knees popping as he crouched down beside you. “Well I ain’t got a watch,” he said, “so I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Another weak laugh faded into quiet.

Then, more hesitant than you’d ever heard him before, Frank asked, “You wanna tell me what happened?”

Something about the way he said it struck you as odd. Like it was a choice—that you didn’t have to explain. If you wanted, the secrets of tonight could remain just that: Secrets, known only by you and a man who had no voice to share them.

[Do you remember Psalm 80:9?—]

Even secret sins are exposed in His light.

{—How do you deal with it? All Red’s Catholic bullshit?}

By believing in it.

Frank took your silence for an answer. Shifted as if he might reach out, offer comfort. Instead, his fingers curled into loose fists.

“How ‘bout you go wait around the corner,” he offered, “and let me take care of all this?”

You weren’t sure what Frank’s version of ‘taking care of this’ entailed, but you knew you were comfortable with never finding out.

Frank followed suit as you pushed off the ground. His movements were precise and easy, while yours were graceless and weighted. Standing, the world seemed to shift beneath your feet. Your mind was still hazy, your bones tired.

Existence had become an arduous task.

“When you’re… done,” you managed, your arms curled tight around your waist, “what then?”

You didn’t want to go home—or to Matt’s.

You didn’t want to feel alone.

As if he understood this, Frank simply answered, “I’ll take you back to my place. Get you cleaned up, let you rest awhile.” His head tilted slightly. “You like pizza?”

The world was ending.

And yet here stood Frank—no Bible quotes or Hail Mary’s, no judgement for the sin you’d committed or the mess he had to clean. He offered only calm, only patience—and pizza of all things.

[What do you see in him?—]

{—Let me take care of all this.}

You nodded.

Frank’s apartment was bleak.

One room total—unless you counted the cramped shoebox of a bathroom, which you did not. The front door opened into a shoddy kitchenette, connected to a living room that clearly doubled as his bedroom.

He owned minimal furnishings. There was a lumpy couch, a small table with one chair, an old doormat that read Stay Awhile! except the Awhile had been all but completely rubbed off. You assumed that’s why it was inside instead of out—because even indirectly, Frank Castle wasn’t the type to ask anyone to Stay.

Behind you, Frank grunted as he kicked his boots off onto the mat. You wondered if you should do the same, but didn’t.

It felt strange to be in Frank’s apartment. Not because it made you uncomfortable, but because it didn’t. You felt fine. Still shaken, still a little sick—but safe.

Would Matt be able to tell? Would he smell the gunpowder and Old Spice clinging to your skin and know that you’d been with Frank?

That’s how you knew when he’d been with Elektra. You didn’t need super senses to smell her perfume—a heady mix of cloves and something citrus, lingering on his shirts as plain as if it were lipstick on the collar.

Unthinking, you said, “You should get a bird.”

Frank chuckled. “Yeah? And why’s that?”

You weren’t sure. It was just the first thing that had come to mind, a means of evicting Elektra from your thoughts.

“It could liven the place up,” you suggested. Though, after taking another glance around, you realized that might be asking too much of one little bird.

He’d need a flock.

Frank slipped past you, warmth crawling up your spine at the slight brush of his hand against your back. You told yourself it was unintentional—no more intimate than someone scooting past you in a crowded bar or a grocery store aisle.

Still, the warmth lingered.

“Don’t think I’m much of a bird guy,” Frank admitted from the kitchenette. Then, nodding towards the couch, he added, “Sit.”

You drifted that way and sank into the cushions. The springs were practically nonexistent, and the brown leather peeled like a bad sunburn—impossible not to pick at.

“What kind of guy are you, then?” you asked, more interested in a distraction than his answer.

Frank dug around in the cabinets, grabbed a plastic mixing bowl, and went to the sink. “I like dogs,” he told you, loud enough to be heard over the running water filling the bowl.

You pretended not to hear him anyway.

After starting at Nelson & Murdock, you’d planned to get a dog. It seemed like the right time. You had your own place, your own income—and you knew Foggy would love having something cute and furry around the office. But then you got closer to Matt, and the dream died before it ever began.

Dogs were too much for Matt. Too many smells, too many sounds, too many textures. Back then, you’d thought it was a reasonable sacrifice. No dog in exchange for an incredible boyfriend.

You knew better now.

You should’ve picked the dog.

Dragging the lone chair from the table, Frank settled in front of you with the bowl of steaming water and a thin cloth. His eyes went straight to your hand. You assumed it was because of the dried blood until he said, “You’re fucking up my couch.”

You stopped picking, dusting the flakes of leather onto the floor. “It was already fucked,” you defended.

“So you gotta make it worse?”

You fixed him with a blank stare. “Nothing could make this couch worse.” Short of setting it on fire, that is.

“That how we’re gonna play this?” Frank looked like he was holding in a laugh. “I let you in, offer you food—and you pay me back by talkin’ shit about my couch?”

“It’s not just the couch,” you stated plainly. “It’s the whole apartment.”

It reminded you of prison—a place that you, Foggy, and Matt had worked hard to keep Frank out of. Even if the trial hadn’t gone as expected, you hated the idea that all that fight had been for this: A peeling couch, a faded doormat, a lonely little chair.

Frank deserved better than that.

[Have you forgotten?—]

[Castle was charged with 37 counts of murder]

[—Why are you so attached to this case?]

With the bowl balanced on top of his legs, Frank dipped the cloth in and wrung it out as he joked, “Guess I need that bird.”

Your lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but close.

“Guess so.”

Frank held out an open palm. Without thinking, you laid your hand against his.

The water was too hot. Not quite burning, but still uncomfortable as he pressed the cloth to your wrist. But you didn’t flinch, utterly motionless as he wiped in slow, circular motions.

His touch was far lighter than you’d imagined.

Not that you ever had imagined it.

As the cloth moved down to your fingers, Frank’s focus grew more intent. He was meticulous in cleaning every line of your knuckles, the dried blood caked under your nails.

Only when the water in the bowl had turned the color of rust, the cloth stained and your skin spotless, did Frank trade one of your hands for the other.

Only then did you confess.

“He had a knife.”

Half a second—that’s how long Frank’s movements faltered before he kept on cleaning. You were thankful he didn’t try to look you in the eye. That he didn’t have to for you to know he was listening.

“Foggy has a deposition in the morning,” you continued shakily. “He always forgets to print his motion, so I stopped by the office to do it for him and… I don’t know. On the way back home, I could just feel it, you know? That someone was there. That they were following me.”

An understanding nod as Frank moved the cloth to your index finger.

“I know it’s stupid,” you told him. “But I thought if I cut through the alley, got closer to Matt’s, then–”

He’d hear it, if the worst happened. The Devil would come. Your boyfriend—if you could even still call him that—would save you.

But that had been a stupid, childish thought.

“I figured I could lose him,” you said instead. “That I could turn the corner and just run in circles until he gave up. But he was fast. I wasn’t even halfway down the alley when he ran up behind me, when grabbed my shoulder and–”

Your breath caught. Frank’s touch moved slower, gentler—a feat you wouldn’t have thought possible. His eyes caught yours in a concerned glance. Only then did you remember how to breathe.

“It was just a knife, Frank. A knife—and I pulled out a gun!” A short, hollow laugh. “I should have let him rob me,” you rationalized. “At least a wallet can be replaced. But him, his life–”

Frank cut you off. “How do you know?”

Your brows furrowed in answer.

His hand went still against yours, holding the cloth wrapped around your ring finger. “That that’s all he wanted,” Frank gruffly clarified. “To rob you.”

“I don’t, but–”

“You remember what I told you? When I taught you how to shoot?”

{You or them?—}

Frustrated, you insisted, “It’s not that easy, Frank. It’s not my choice!”

[—It’s up to God, who lives and who dies.]

Frank shook his head. “That’s the Catholic in you,” he argued.

“I’m not Catholic,” you snapped, low but harsh. Frank looked confused, and you fought to keep the shame from your voice as you muttered, “Not anymore.”

Religion, you’ve learned, is a funny sort of thing. Even when you stop believing, it never truly goes away. God becomes a ghost under your skin, a divine haunting that borders on insanity. You will always think in terms of Sinners and Saints. You will always know that no amount of repentance will ever mold your soul into something more like the latter.

Frank wasn’t the type to pry any further.

Instead, he adjusted your hand. Carefully dragged the cloth along the curve of your fingernail. The water had cooled, now too cold where it was once too hot.

“It doesn’t matter what he was going to do,” you decided. “It only matters that I killed him.”

This time, it was Frank’s breath that hitched.

“No you didn’t,” he said, and you had never heard someone tell a lie so matter-of-fact.

“I did–”

He looked up. A muscle feathered in his jaw, and when he spoke, it was with the steely resolve of a Marine.

“No. I did.”

You blinked at him.

“I gave you that gun,” he continued. “Gave you that goddamn advice, too. That no matter what, you always gotta pick you. And see, I don’t regret that shit either because all that? It kept you alive. Kept you breathing. And if some no-good prick’s gotta so you get to live? Fine. Good.”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but stare at him.

“But if someone’s gotta bear the weight of that guy’s miserable life,” Frank told you, “then let it be me, alright?” His gaze fell, lingering on your lips a moment too long before he uttered, “‘Cause I ain’t gonna let it be you.”

[You care about him—]

[—Don’t you?]

Do you care about her?

[Elektra’s just a friend—]

…

[—Can you say the same about Frank?]

You studied the man before you.

Frank Castle. The Punisher.

The one you shouldn’t call, shouldn’t trust. A murderer and a felon, a crack in your already crumbling relationship. Someone you tried to stay away from, tried to forget.

A number not saved, but remembered.

No, you thought, and wondered if Matt already knew. I can’t.

Swallowing, you looked down at your joined hands. The blood was almost all gone now, washed away by someone far more damned than you.

“Okay,” you said. There was no need to say anything else, no need to keep bearing the crushing weight of your newly acquired sin—not when God was a ghost and the Devil had abandoned you, not when a Soldier was so willing to bear it for you.

“You know,” you said, deftly changing the subject, “my brain’s a little hazy, but I’m pretty sure you promised me pizza.”

Frank fought the subtle curve of his lips. “Did I?”

You nodded, and he chuckled.

“Fine–” he refocused, back to cleaning off the last of the blood–“but you’re placin’ the order.”

You mocked him, Fine!, while sliding your phone from your pocket. The screen lit up with two missed calls and one text.

Matthew: Sorry, got caught up with something. Everything OK?

Your thumb hovered over the message.

In the Bible, the number eight is symbolic of many things. Resurrection is one of them; something dead brought back into eternal life. Once, you would’ve seen Matt’s text—a string of eight words—and wondered if that meant something. If maybe there was something left of your love to be resurrected.

Now, you stole a glance at Frank—your eighth call—and thought of new beginnings. Of choosing your own path.

You cleared Matt’s message.

Tapped on the Safari icon and asked, “Do you want somewhere specific?”

“Ever been to Lombardi’s?” suggested Frank.

You shook your head. “Is it good?”

Frank cut you a look. “‘Course it’s good. But knowin’ you, you’ll probably shit talk it the same way you did my couch.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “Keep it up,” you teased, already typing the restaurant into the search, “and your only company’s gonna be the couch and the bird.”

He chuckled. “I ain’t gettin’ a bird.”

You'd just pressed the phone to your ear, already listening to it ring when you built up the nerve to ask, "What about a dog?"

Frank set the cloth in the bowl. Gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Maybe a dog.”

a/n - this has been sitting in my drafts literally since january. i can't decide if i like it or hate it, but i've gotten into too much of a habit of writing, overthinking, and then never posting---so, here it is! thank you to anyone who takes the time to read it <3

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 month ago

Text

cherry pie

a/n: this is all @chvoswxtch's fault. you know what you did, babe! whispering in my ear like a slutty little devil…

summary: briefly glancing around the vacant space before taking a seat at the counter, there you spotted none other than the regular customer that you, for lack of better words, had an embarrassingly massive crush on.

warnings: frank castle x diner waitress!reader, smut, mutual pining, kissing, public sex, clothed sex (the uniform stays on, hehe), dirty talk, size kink (the return of mr castle's canon coke can cock, hallelujah), manhandling, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, spit kink, oral, fingering, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 3643

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

A soft hum vibrated quietly in your throat as you cleaned out the table in the corner where the last remaining customers had just departed from, leaving you all alone in the dark diner as the rest of the small staff too had gone home at this late hour since next to no one ever frequented the establishment in the time slot before closing.

After wiping down the table, the interior dimly illuminated by mostly just the neon lights scattered around the walls as well as the big one out front that glimmered through the windows, you then balanced the dirty plates out into the kitchen. Though when you sat the dishes down by the sink, the chime of the door out front found your ears.

However, when you twisted your neck to glance out of the wide hole in the wall, that divided the kitchen from the dining area, to spot the individual who had just entered the low-lit diner, the gentle melody that warmed up your chest promptly seized from your lips as your eyes began to widen.

Briefly glancing around the vacant space before taking a seat at the counter, there you spotted none other than the regular customer that you, for lack of better words, had an embarrassingly massive crush on.

You still remembered two months back when the gruff-looking man had first set foot into the diner. It had been like you’d been transformed into one of those wooden dolls where you press a button at the very base and its legs just collapse.

You still weren’t sure if it was a gift or a curse that the establishment had swiftly grown into a regular spot for him to frequent, seeing as you now spent most of your days either eye-fucking him from a distance as he sat in your section, or stumbled over your words as you tried to take his order. You’d even dropped all of his change one of the times he’d paid, sending the coins clanging across the linoleum floor, only for him to duck down and join you on the ground, the simple kindness sending such a shiver down your spine that you had crashed your skull up into the table like the true stumble fuck you felt like whenever he was near.

And when you finally managed to force your feet to shift, the advice, that one of your coworkers had recently given you on your little predicament, echoed quietly on your lips as you exited the kitchen, “okay, be bold... be bold…” in a feeble attempt at hyping yourself up.

Your fingers dipped into the pocket of the little apron tied around your waist, fishing out a small notepad and pencil, before you neared the spot he sat at.

“Hi, Frank,” you uttered, offering him a smile as his eyes flickered up to settle upon you.

“Evening, sweetheart,” he exhaled, the surely meaningless term of endearment that he had begun to drop into your short chats over the past few weeks still caused your ragged breath to hitch.

“You’re up late,” you briefly glanced to the round clock on the wall before reuniting your gaze with his unwavering one.

Tilting his head, the corners of his lips twitched slightly as he murmured, “yeah, well at least I’m not still stuck at work.”

“Touché,” you clicked your tongue against your teeth and wiggled the pencil in your grasp before asking, “so, what can I get you tonight?”

“Just some coffee,” his head nodded slightly as his gaze briefly averted, “and keep it coming.”

“Coffee as usual,” you slipped your notepad back into your pocket, “you and your endless cups of coffee, okay… perhaps I should just start pouring automatically whenever I see you come in, like it’s pavlovian or something.”

“Well,” his tongue fleetingly flickered out to wet his slight smile, “it would save me the breath, not having to ask for what I want if you just give it to me straight out of the gate.”

Heat promptly rose in your cheeks as your dirty mind played tricks on you and warped his words. Clearing your throat lightly as you swiftly choked on a tiny giggle, “uhm, yeah–, so, uh…” you stared down at the counter, though quickly darted them away when his hands that rested there began to distract you as well and make you that much more dizzy, “just the coffee, nothing else?” you uttered hazily as you then twisted around to snatch up the half-empty pot behind you and fill up a mug for him.

“Just the coffee,” he drawled quietly like a gentle crackling fire behind you.

“You sure?” you tilted your head as you spun back around and slid the cup across the counter towards him, “it’s Friday night. Why not go crazy and treat yourself to a piece of pie or something.”

Gliding his fingers into place around the warm mug, his eyes fluttered back up to capture your own, “I’m good, thanks.”

“Really? You don’t even wanna hear what the options are?” your teeth gently dug into your bottom lip, “I made them all myself, fresh this morning…”

Blinking back at you a moment, he then bowed his head as he gave in, “alright, sure, why the hell not.”

“Well,” you propped down your forearms on the counter directly across from where he sat, “there’s rhubarb pie with a meringue topping,” you uttered softly as you leaned against the table, slowly inching closer and closer to him, “there’s apple if you’re into the classics,” your gaze licked him up as your heart hammered in your chest like it was trying to escape, “and then today’s special, cherry pie…”

“Cherry, huh?” he hummed as he stared back into your eyes, even as you gradually tilted closer. You knew that if he dared to let his unwavering gaze stray, he’d surely be able to look straight down the neckline of your uniform from how you bent over the counter.

Dipping your vision down to his lips, you dreamily sucked in a breath as you added, “with extra whip cream on top…”

A smirk bloomed on his lips as an exhale then slipped from his lungs, “well how ‘bout that…”

The next thing you knew, it was as if your brain shut off completely as you then found yourself closing the short distance between you two and crashing your lips against his own. The kiss was short and rather clumsy before you then regained your senses and pulled back just as quickly as you had dived in.

“Oh my goodness,” you swiftly gasped as your hands soared up to briefly shield the lower half of your face, “I’m sorry, that was–, I shouldn't have just–, out of the blue without–,” you stumbled over your own words, “I'm sorry, please don’t tell my boss, I really need this job–”

But then, before you could crumble before him, Frank suddenly seized both sides of your face and pulled you back in for not only a kiss, but one that made your feeble attempt pale in comparison. Melting completely under the scorching warmth of his lips, you damn near crawled straight across the counter to scramble into his lap. However, when he finally withdrew, the kiss somehow seeming both as if it had stretched out an eternity, as well as only feeling like the blink of an eye, you stumbled slightly, and if it hadn’t been for his palms that remained on the sides of your jaw, you surely would have taken a nosedive right in front of him.

“Fuck…” you dizzily blinked back at him as only his hands cupping your features in a gentle grip kept you upright, “how–… how are you even better at that than I imagined?” your jello-like knees wobbled beneath you.

“Oh, you’ve spent a lot of time daydreaming about me kissing you,” he chuckled softly, “have you?”

“Well,” you sucked in a ragged breath as you noticed how the dull throb he always triggered between your thighs worsened, “it’s not just that my brain has been thinking about ever since you first came in here…”

“Oh yeah?” he shared your breath as his fingertips slowly strayed into your hairline, “what else has that pretty little head been thinking about, huh?”

And as the corners of your lips twitched into a smile, you gathered up the courage to utter, “…how about you come back here and I show you instead?”

With a soft smirk on his lips, his fingers then slipped from your face before he rose from his seat. Panting, your eyes tracked him as he took his sweet time making his way around the long counter to stand on the same side as you.

Tangling your fingers in his dark shirt as soon as he came in reach, you yanked him to you till his lips crashed against your own once again. Though the ravenous kiss didn’t last too long before you then tilted away as your legs began to bend and you sank down on the ground before him. You still stayed so close to him that your cheek pressed up against his thick thigh as you blinked up at him, a question twinkling in your eyes as your fingers slowly clawed closer to his belt.

But before your lips managed to part in order to ask for permission, Frank caught on and, as he breathlessly gazed down at your kneeling frame, offered you a nod.

Your mouth fell apart in an airy giggle as your stunned eyes widened at his girth that sprung forth as soon as you tugged down the zipper of his dark jeans.

It was soft, rather timid but sweet, as you began to pepper pecks along his length, smiling against the hardness as it twitched at your feathery touch before you soothed it with your glistening tongue.

And though you had a hard time ripping your gaze away from his cock, it more often than not drifted back up to Frank’s own stare as he leaned back against the counter.

When your lips eventually were stretched around his cock and drool was gurgling up your efforts as you bobbed your head, his fingers gently found your hair as his hips stopped resisting the greedy thrusts they craved in order to bury his dick further into your warmth.

A low growl rumbled in his chest when your sweet mouth became too much for him to bear, and he swiftly plucked you back up onto your feet. Spinning you both around till the counter pressed against the small of your back, he then picked you up and planted you on the edge of the tabletop.

Pressing your lips to his own, you then purred against his tongue as his touch wandered down your frame and disappeared up under the dress of your uniform to discover the soaked state of your panties beneath. To you, his fingertips fluttered over your covered core for way too long till he finally yanked the cotton to the side to sweep his touch directly against your aching pussy.

“Holy fucking shit,” you panted as he finally rolled your puffy pearl beneath the rough pads of his fingers, and you had to tilt away from his kiss a moment to reel in the ecstasy. Your nails dug into the back of his neck as you arched your back, though a smirk only bloomed on Frank’s features as he gazed back at your blissed-out features.

“You like that?” he uttered huskily, still so close that he shared your breath.

“I–, fucking–, yes!” you panted before reuniting your lips with his own just as a whimper crawled its way out of your lungs.

Soon his pinkie and forefinger flexed against your centre as the ones in between methodically pumped in and out of your pussy, caressing your velvety walls till you were on the verge of exploding.

But instead of unravelling and creaming all over his thick fingers, you gasped, “wait,” as you painstakingly yanked his touch out from beneath your skirt, “I-I need you inside of me, please, I wanna feel you, I can’t wait any longer,” a dizzy pout quivered at your lip as you begged. Answering your prayer, Frank then slid you off of the counter and spun you around for the curve of your ass to arch back against him.

“Then do it,” his deep voice tickled the shell of your ear as he slid a palm down over your frame before finding your clit once more in a rub that caused your eyes to roll, “go ahead, take what you want, sweetheart,” he uttered, encouraging your fingers to reach back to grasp his girth.

His digits kept on drawing patterns over your puffy pearl as you then slowly slipped his fat cock inside, “f-fuck…” you whined shakily as your eyes fell shut, your whole body freezing up for a second as your cunt clenched around the bulbous tip of him, struggling a moment before relaxing around his size and letting him in.

You felt his lips flutter against the side of your neck as the hand he didn’t have slotted between your trembling thighs, floated up around the curve of your ass, spreading his hand wide across it as he gently gathered up the skirt of your uniform to grant himself a peek of how you stretched for him.

“Atta girl, that’s it,” he groaned as you slowly began to move and fill your pussy up further, “you got it, sweet girl,” his own hips all the while staying locked and letting you control the pace, “keep going.”

Though it didn’t take long after you’d picked up a desperate rhythm, bouncing your ass back against him, that your upper body gave out, bending down over the counter and melting against it as you finally came undone, your loud moans echoing throughout the empty diner.

And though your greedy efforts tried to keep going through your high, your shaky movements still degraded into trembling rocks as you slowly tilted back against him till your sensitivity began to fade away. However, when Frank finally began to move, his palm first gliding up along your horizontal spine before he let himself go, a crinkle found your brow as your body jostled against the counter at each zealous thrust he offered you, his heavy balls smacking against your buzzing clit each time he bottomed out and the tip of him kissed the deepest parts of you.

However, as you fought to keep your eyes open and one of your hands fluttered back to claw needily against one of Frank’s belt loops, your hazy gaze suddenly snapped open as you spotted the figure out on the dark street that came marching directly towards the front door of the diner.

“Shit!” you yelped before you shakily shot up and, in your panic, shoved Frank down behind the counter before the patron could enter. Smoothing down your uniform as the door chimed, your eyes were wide as you squeaked, “hello,” doing everything in your power to seem completely normal and not let your stare stray down to the man hiding by your feet, his throbbing cock still glistening with your juices.

“Hi,” the elderly man offered a tight-lipped smile before glancing around at all of the empty seats and uttering, “are you still serving pancakes?”

And though in actuality you weren’t still serving breakfast at this hour, your mind swiftly short-circuited as you felt Frank sneak a hand up under your uniform, “s-sure, but it’ll take a bit,” you breathed shakily as his touch teasingly traced the mess between your thighs, making you shiver with each light pet, “it’s just me working here right now.”

“Oh, that’s alright, I don’t mind waiting,” the customer murmured, though just as he did, you sucked in a sharp breath as the gruff man kneeling beside you let himself tilt closer and grant himself a brief taste, momentarily parting your petals with his tongue as his nose nudged against your pearl, lapping ravenously at your leaky hole that still quivered for his cock, before his mouth then soared up and captured your clit, wasting no time to suck down on it making your entire frame jump jaggedly at the dizzying sensation.

“A-alright,” you puffed unsteadily as you watched the stranger take a seat in a far-off booth, “I’ll be right back,” you murmured and lightly shoved Frank’s head away from beneath your skirt before you shakily made your way into the back.

Clutching a hand over your chest as you tried to catch your breath, you didn’t get the chance to glance over your shoulder before you felt Frank catch up to you after he’d snuck into the kitchen as well.

“You are terrible,” you whispered through a hazy giggle as he pressed a brief kiss to your cheek, his beard still glistening from the greedy taste he’d offered himself.

“Oh, you have no idea,” he exhaled before you caught onto his shirt and dragged him around the corner with you, into the pantry at the very bottom of the kitchen.

Twisting you around to face him, he kissed you once more, though it only broke when he plucked you up off the ground to sit you up on the steel table that stood between the many open shelves, all brimming with dried and canned goods.

Slotting himself in between your legs, he stole one last peck before his fingers enveloped his girth and offered it a silky stroke. Glancing down between your thighs as you began to shimmy your dress back up, his thumb hooked in the gusset of your panties before it could stray back into place and cover you back up.

Letting a dollop of spit drop from his lips and down upon your glistening pussy as he continued to stare, he uttered gravelly, “you want it?” before he tapped the hefty weight of himself against your puff.

“Yes,” you panted as you too blinked down at how he dragged the bulbous head of his cock through your folds, teasingly tracing the seam of your cunt and making you squirm beneath him.

“Oh, yeah?” he tried to make you beg for it, flicking his hardness crudely against your clit, “tell me how bad.”

“So bad,” you whined as his teasing swiftly became too much for you to bear, “please, Frank,” you nearly felt yourself drool as your eyebrows knitted tightly together, “just shove it back in.”

Huffing out a short chuckle, “okay,” he then took your breath away as he didn’t just slide the tip back inside, but instead slammed the entirety of his length back inside, burying himself completely in your haven, “like that?” he smirked as you struggled to breathe.

“I-I–,” your eyes fluttered as your fingers soared up to dent his shoulders, “o-oh god… that’s so much…”

“What?” he grinned as he tilted closer to you for his nose to ghost against your own, “I thought you said you wanted it,” he murmured cockily before pulling all of the way back out, “is it too much dick for you, huh?” your dripping essence clung to his girth as he slipped out and some of your desperation even dribbled onto the tabletop below.

“It’s–, shit,” you tried to keep up with his dizzying game, but your molten mind just wouldn’t let you, “Frank, please just fuck me. I can’t–, I–, urgh!” a shrill moan promptly escaped you as he then sank back inside, making your eyes roll in your skull as he swiftly slipped into a slow yet rough rhythm, “f-fuck… thank you…”

Smiling against your breathless lips, he uttered, “god, you’re cute…” before his hips snapped against you, offering you long and deep strokes that made it tough for you both to last much longer.

Though once you’d both tumbled over the edge, your cunt choking his cock and milking him for all of his worth, the slow and smouldering kisses that drew out over your lips eventually faded as he slipped his length out of you.

Blinking back at him, your eyes widened slightly in gentle puzzlement as he then sank down before you and began to clean up the mess you’d both turned you into, holding your gaze and eating you out till you had no other choice but to clamper a palm over your mouth to keep quiet as he made you cum one last time.

Hand slipping from your lips as you fell back onto your forearms and caught your breath, you scarcely saw as Frank then rose back up to his full height, his lips briefly dancing up the length of your thigh on his way back up, before his gaze caught sight of the row of pies lined up on a nearby shelf. They were all mostly gone, though what was left was covered by a layer of cling film.

Stretching out an arm, he ducked a finger beneath the plastic that covered the last remaining piece of the cherry one and then brashly dipped his digit into the crimson berry filling, before bringing it up to his lips to suck it clean, the display of which somehow making your sensitive core throb once more for him as he let his tongue lap up the greedy taste he’d granted himself.

As his lips let go of his finger with a pop, a hum rumbled in his broad chest, “that’s good,” before his eyes flickered down to his digit and he twisted it into a different angle to lick up the remaining pie filling. Though as he savoured every last drop, his dark eyes flickered back to capture your stare as he then added with a soft smirk, “but I think I prefer the one that you gave me…”

#lea’s writing #frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fic #frank castle x you #waitress!reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #jon bernthal smut #frank castle x f!reader #the punisher fic #the punisher x reader #the punisher smut

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multiversediaries · 3 months ago

Text

MORE THAN FRIENDS

⤷ FRANK CASTLE X READER

Summary: After overhearing a conversation between Matt and Karen, you find comfort in the arms of the big, bad Punisher.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, small angst, soft, and i mean, VERY soft frank

Part count: 1/?

A/N: i loved, loved, LOVED! writing this!!!!! i hope u guys like it as much as i do ^-^ apologies for any mistakes! english is not my first language!

“Why aren’t you listening to me?” You heard Matt’s voice from outside of their office. You had just came back into the office, after looking more into a few cases you were all working on. You were eager to share the information you acquired to both your boyfriend, Matt, and Foggy.

“You are in a relationship, Matthew. This is insane.” Karen soon spoke up. You raised your ears in curiosity. Were they talking about you? You leaned into the door, trying to listen into their conversation.

You have been in a loving relationship with Matt for about two years now. You met him while working at his law firm, and ultimately fell for him. Who wouldn’t? Matt is a dream come true. It didn’t make you uncomfortable to know that his ex girlfriend, Karen, also worked along side Matt, since you knew he loved you. He reminded you every single day of how much he loved and appreciated you. He never gave you a reason to doubt him.

“Y/N? God, Karen. Can’t you see? She means nothing— not next to you.” Matt said, your heart sinking at his words. No, this isn’t the Matt you knew. The Matt you knew and fell in love with would never speak of you like this. No.. he loved you. He told you every day.

He loved you… right?

“You don’t mean that, Matt.” Karen replied softly. You could sense pity in her voice for you.

“Y/N… she’s lovely. She really is— she’s so good to me, but she’s not you. She will never be you.”

You heard Karen reply, but you weren’t paying attention anymore. You bit your bottom lip, hiding your silent cries, and shuttering breaths. You started to walk away from the office, not daring to even look back. You were grateful it was usually noisy around the office during that time, so Matt wouldn’t have been able to hear you.

You stood in the middle of the sidewalk, finally allowing yourself to hurt. Tears streamed down your face, painful sobs leaving your throat. The stares of people didn’t matter to you. How could he? How could you have been so naive? It was all too good to be true, and you knew this. You knew it was, yet you brushed it off. Just thinking this was the universe finally letting you be happy, for once. How naive.

You walked around the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. not having a place to go. You shared the apartment with Matt. You couldn’t go to Karen, or Foggy. Gosh, where were you going to sleep for tonight? Those were the only people you truly trusted and knew. You didn’t have any family left in Hell’s Kitchen. No one.

As you walked around town, flashbacks kept replaying in your head. Walking past that italian restaurant Matt loved so much, the small bar Matt liked playing pool in, the park Matt loved taking walks with you at, everything reminded you of him. You closed your eyes in defeat, as you felt small rain drops fall on your skin.

Just what you needed.

But even then, it was comforting. You always liked how the city looked during rainy nights. It brought you peace and now, consolation. You walked around the streets you loved so much, an emotionless expression in your face. You felt empty. You felt so pathetic, and like you had wasted two years of your life. Two years of nothing but what you thought was happiness and love. But it was just a fantasy. A delusion. Fiction. It just wasn’t real, nothing was real. You weren’t Karen. You didn’t have as much history with Matt as Karen did. You just weren’t her.

While you continued to walk, your tears now hidden in the rain, giving you the freedom to let go, to cry as much as you pleased, you heard a name you hadn’t heard in a while.

The Punisher.

Frank Castle. The man who once saved your life. The man who seemed to care so deeply about you. A long lost friend. You lost communication with him a few months ago. It was nothing new, Frank traveled a lot, he never truly stayed at one place for too long. You didn’t know he was back, as he hadn’t told you. He’d always find a way to contact you, to let you know he was alive and well. Most of the times, he simply got you flowers. He knew how much you liked them. So he wanted to be associated with something you liked so much.

You soon found yourself at his front door. Terrified he wouldn’t be home. After composing yourself, or at least trying to, you knocked twice on his door. You bit your lip, looking down anxiously.

Please be home, Frank. Please.

After a few minutes of silence, that sense of hope inside of you started to die down. He wasn’t home. Of course he wasn’t home. You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head. Again, how fucking naive. You wiped your teary, swollen eyes, and turned around on your heels, starting to walk away from his door. You began thinking of where you could spend the night. If anything, you could wait under they all leave the office, and you could sleep there.

“Y/N?” You heard a deep, raspy voice call out behind you, interrupting your thoughts. You could have sworn your heart stopped. You turned around slowly, finding Frank.

“You’re home…” You managed to whisper, earning a cautious nod from Frank.

“Everything okay, doll? What’s goin’ on?” Frank asked, his eyes scanning you, looking for any injuries on you. His expression softening at the sight of a broken you.

You opened your mouth to speak, yet nothing came out. You faked a smile, wiping your eyes once again. Frank’s heart tightened. He slowly began making his way to you. Your smile soon turned into a frown, small sobs leaving your lips. You couldn’t stop yourself from breaking down in front of him. Loud, and sore wails filling the hall you both were standing on.

Frank didn’t say a word either, he only embraced you into a tight hug. His strong arms stroking your back lovingly, as he held you together, knowing that if he let go, you’d fall apart right in front of him. Once he noticed your cries had calmed down, he finally spoke up.

“Let’s change you out of these wet clothes.” He spoke lightly, guiding you into his apartment. He closed the door behind him, leading you into the bathroom. He brought some of his clothes for you, and a towel.

“Take a warm bath, and then we’ll talk if you want to, alright?” Frank said, before offering you a small, pitiful grin, and closing the door. You took off the damped clothes and jumped into the shower, instantly relaxing as soon as the hot water touched your cold skin.

Frank could hear your whimpers and cries from his living room, where he impatiently waited for you. He had never seen you like this. His heart felt heavy while looking into your blood red, swollen eyes, your quivering lips and broken expression. He sighed harshly, remembering how cold you felt when he held you into his arms, how much you were shaking. He quickly stood up, gathering warm blankets for you. He also prepared warm chocolate for you, your favorite kind, in hopes of lifting your spirits, even if it’s just a little.

He must have gotten too caught up in trying to make you feel comfortable, that he didn’t notice you. You stood by the counter of his kitchen, wearing one of his t-shirts and long pants, which were most definitely a little big on you. He smiled just a bit, once he locked eyes with you. You returned the kind smile, watching him as he poured the hot chocolate into a cup for you.

Soon, your eyes drifted to a flower arrangement, carefully sitting by the end of the counter you were leaning on. You sighed quietly, in relief.

“Those are yours, sweetheart. Was gonna have them delivered to you tomorrow, or somethin’.” Frank said, handing the cup to you. You smiled, genuinely this time. Of course he was going to. How dare you doubt him? He cares about you. Truthfully. You brought the cup to your lips, softly blowing it, before drinking from it.

“See, I just didn’t know where to send ‘em to.” Frank continued, looking at the flowers he got for you. Tulips. “Didn’t know you moved in with Matt.” He said. You sighed at the mention of his name, a frown appearing once again.

“Yeah, well. Definitely don’t send them there.” You replied, so soft it was almost a whisper. Frank nodded, not wanting to push you. He didn’t want to pressure you into telling him anything.

“Are you alright, doll? Talk to me.” Frank said, as softly and tenderly as possible. You sighed shakily, recalling what you heard. Frank bit the insides of his mouth. “Let’s go sit, okay?” He offered, a hand lightly on your waist, leading you to his living room. Frank sat across from you, giving you all the space you needed. You looked down at the cup in your hands, trying to find the right words.

“It’s Matt, he—”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No! Of course not— I mean, yeah? Kind of?” You replied, placing the cup down on the coffee table in front of you, before your hands ran to caress your temples in frustration.

“I’m sorry.” Frank said after taking a deep breath. “Didn’t meant to interrupt ya.” He finished, his eyes never leaving yours. Your heart almost melted. Frank has always been this kind, this attentive.

“It’s fine, Frank. It’s just—” You continued, running a hand through your damped hair, trying to find the best way to explain your situation. “I don’t even know how to explain it, he just— he just doesn’t love me.”

“What?” Frank asked, truly baffled at your words. Because how can anybody not adore you?

“I heard him speaking to Karen. And he told her I was nothing compared to her, and that he only wanted her.” You continued, your voice breaking. “He doesn’t love me, Frank. Simply because I’m not her.” You finished, your head dropped in embarrassment and hurt. You held back your wails, yet there was not point in stopping the tears that now ran down your face. You heard Frank sigh.

After a few minutes of nothing but your silent cries, Frank had now moved to sit next to you, an arm wrapped around you, as you cried into his chest. His fingers traced circles on your skin, attempting to comfort you as much as he possibly could. A few more minutes passed, yet Frank hadn’t said a word.

“Why haven’t you said anything?” You finally spoke up, your voice sore and tired from all the crying. Frank shrugged his shoulders, looking down at you.

“Just can’t understand how anyone would want anybody else but you.” Frank said, his eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. He was dumbfounded. “You’re it for me, sweetheart.” Frank continued, his face showing utter bewilderment.

“Didn’t know Red could be so goddamn stupid.” Frank said, looking down to stare into your eyes. Your eyes glassy and overflowing with tears. He sighed, his rough fingers wiping away the small teardrops on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry I can’t comfort ‘ya any better, I’m just bamboozled.” Frank confessed, making a small giggle leave your mouth. He offered you a small grin.

“Don’t you dare doubt yourself ‘cause of him. You know your worth and how fucking amazing you are— he’s missing out on you, pretty girl.” Frank continued, his rough hand felt warm and even soft against your skin. You bit your lip, killer butterflies filling your stomach while you heard Frank speak so softly and lovingly to you.

“I just don’t understand— if it were me, I would’ve put a ring on your finger ages ago. Fuck, I would’ve made you a mom by now.” Frank rambled on, your eyes softly widening at his sudden confession. Frank seemed to realized what he said, since he quickly looked into your eyes in panic.

“I mean— I would’ve never exchanged you for anyone or anything. I’m telling ‘ya, you’re it for me.” Frank finished, his hand leaving your cheek. You frowned at the loss of his warmth.

“You should be exhausted, go to sleep, alright? We’ll talk more in the morning.” Frank said softly, before planting a tender kiss to your forehead. You nodded, mostly speechless by what just happened. You made your way to then vacant room Frank had offered you, looking back once in a while, locking eyes with Frank. You smiled timidly, before walking into the room, and closing the door behind you.

“‘I would’ve made you a mom.’ ‘The fuck were you thinking?” Frank cursed under his breath, cleaning up his living room. His eyes going going over to the room you were sleeping at, wondering if you needed anything, and most importantly, if you were okay.

Inside, a smile had formed in your lips, remembering the words Frank had said to you. You couldn’t help the obvious attraction and love you felt towards him, from the very first day you met him. Matt hated Frank, probably because of how fondly you spoke of him and how excited you used to get when a bucket of flowers would get delivered to you. You used to reassure Matt to not worry about Frank, that you two were just friends.

But were you?

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monicfever · 2 months ago

Note

could we have some frank boyfriend hcs please? love ur writing !! <3

frank castle as your boyfriend. 𝜗𝜚 hc’s

r e q u e s t e d ♡

cw ᝰ .ᐟ gender neutral reader ,, sfw ,, it’s frank castle so 🤨 mentions of blood and stuff

FRANK AS YOUR BOYFRIEND . . . loves quietly. fiercely. like it’s carved into him. he’s not the type to write poems or whisper sweet things — but he brings you coffee before you wake up and keeps his arm around you in every crowded room. he remembers how you take your tea, what shirt you sleep in, the exact sound you make when you laugh too hard.

frank doesn’t fall in love. he commits to it. like a vow. something permanent. he watches over you the way most people breathe — effortlessly, constantly, without needing to think. puts himself between you and danger before you even register that something’s wrong. it’s not dramatic for him — it’s just instinct.

watches bad action movies with you and critiques the gun work the whole time. “that’s not how recoil works.” “no way that guy walks away from a wound like that.” but when you laugh at him for it, he gets all smug. “just saying. i could do it better.”

frank’s not invincible. he carries grief in his ribs and guilt in his spine. sometimes it catches up with him. some nights he won’t come to bed. just sits on the floor beside it, back to the wall, eyes dark. like if he closes them, he’ll lose everything. including you. he doesn’t talk about his past much. doesn’t talk about feelings either. but when he holds you it’s with this kind of aching gentleness, like you’re the last good thing in a world he doesn’t trust anymore.

he never asks for anything, but he always lights up when you touch him first. when you kiss his shoulder without warning. when you reach for his hand. like it catches him off guard, every time — the idea that someone like you could choose someone like him.

he always drives. always. he won’t say it out loud, but he needs to be in control — needs to protect you, even from a fender bender or a bad intersection. keeps one hand on the wheel and one on your thigh, thumb brushing back and forth. sings quietly when his favourite old songs come on. you almost miss it the first few times.

has a quiet little grunt-laugh when you get sarcastic. never full-on laughs — not the belly kind — but it’s a sharp exhale, a crooked smile, head tilted like “you got me.”

“you tired?” you’ll ask, and he’ll grunt something half-hearted. “i’m good.” but then he’s pulling you in, pressing his face into your neck, one heavy arm around your waist like a shield.

he doesn’t say i love you much. but he shows it in the way he always notices when you’re cold, the way he drives a little slower when you’re in the passenger seat, how he keeps an extra sweatshirt of his in your closet like it belongs there. frank listens when you talk. keeps your words tucked away like secrets. remembers names you mentioned once, the kind of books you like, the way you bite your lip when you’re about to cry but don’t want to.

he’s not scared of bullets or pain or anything that can be solved with his fists — but he gets scared of you leaving. scared that you’ll wake up one day and realize you deserve someone softer. someone safer, someone cleaner. so he’s careful. careful not to break things, careful not to raise his voice. careful not to bleed too close to you, even when he’s hurt.

keeps a toolbox in your apartment before he ever brings a toothbrush. fixes that squeaky cabinet door without being asked. rehangs your shelves, patches your drywall, silently wires your lamp so it stops flickering. doesn’t make a big deal about it — just hands you a cup of coffee after and kisses your forehead like it’s nothing.

does your dishes without saying a word. folds laundry with sleeves tucked in and socks matched. gets grumpy if you try to help while he’s in the zone. “i got it,” he mutters, brow furrowed like laundry’s a mission he must complete correctly. then he’ll look over and gently nudge you onto the couch. “sit. rest.”

like taking care of you is just part of his day.

he doesn’t sleep through the night, but he tries not to wake you. gets up quietly, makes tea in the dark. reads worn paperback thrillers with a flashlight like he’s still out in the field. but if you come find him — sleepy and barefoot, rubbing your eyes — he just opens his arms. pulls you into his lap, tucks his chin over your head.

gets oddly proud when he teaches you how to shoot. or fix a leak. or throw a punch. grins when you hit the target, calls you a natural. but the truth is he never wants you to have to use any of it. he’d burn the world down before he let something hurt you.

keeps a knife in the drawer by the bed. one in the glove compartment. one taped under the coffee table. it’s not paranoia — it’s habit. he was trained to anticipate the worst. but when you ask him about it, he softens. “just in case,” he says, hand resting on your back. “nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

he’s the kind of boyfriend who always knows when something’s off. even if you’re smiling, even if you say you’re fine. he notices when you’re quiet for too long, when your shoulders are tight. doesn’t push — just pulls you close, rubs slow circles into your back.

won’t ever tell the world what you are to him, but he keeps a photo of you tucked behind his driver’s license. always checks on it before he leaves for anything dangerous. you’re his anchor. his reason. he’s not a man who believes in second chances — but somehow, you are his.

he cooks like he’s back in the marines. efficient. fast. always enough for leftovers. but over time, he starts adding things just because you like them. makes your eggs how you like them, even if he doesn’t eat that way. tries your weird coffee orders without complaint. grumbles when he actually likes it. “too sweet,” he says, but finishes the whole thing.

when you fall asleep on the couch, he carries you to bed. always. tucks the blanket around you, kisses your forehead, brushes your hair back with hands that have broken bones and pulled triggers — but only ever touch you like you’re made of silk. then he lays beside you, arm wrapped around your waist, breath evening out to the rhythm of yours.

still wakes up too early. still checks the locks. still sits with his back to the wall in restaurants, even when it’s just brunch on a sunny sunday. but now he does it with your hand in his, thumb tracing soft, absent-minded shapes across your knuckles. he doesn’t say it, but his body speaks for him: i’ve got you.

he keeps things simple. practical. doesn’t like clutter. but then your books start piling up on the nightstand, and your sweater ends up on his desk chair, and your perfume lingers in the bathroom air — and he doesn’t move any of it. not even once. instead, he adds to it. a second toothbrush. a pair of slippers in your size. a grocery list stuck to the fridge that says “your coffee” in his blocky, all-caps handwriting.

he won’t say i miss you when you leave for a few days, but he’ll text to ask where you keep the cereal. then follow up with “never mind, found it.” when you come home, the bed’s made, the dishes are done, your favorite blanket’s draped over the couch. he doesn’t know how to say i missed you, so he just lives it.

he starts to laugh more. not loud, not often — but the kind that makes you freeze for a second because it’s real. usually when you tease him. or when you trip over nothing and pretend it was “parkour.” that little huff he gives, the crinkle by his eyes — it feels like a gift every single time.

he does that thing where he kisses the top of your head every time he walks behind you. in the kitchen, brushing your teeth, putting on your shoes. just a soft press of his lips to your crown.

you’re the only one he lets bandage him. he’ll brush off broken ribs like they’re nothing but sits still when you press alcohol-soaked cotton to a split knuckle. watches you like you’re something holy. like your hands could undo every war he’s fought.

reads labels now. like, really reads them. checks if the cereal has too much sugar. makes sure the medicine doesn’t interact with the one you take. won’t admit it, but he googled the skincare brand you use to see if it was safe.

refuses to let you carry heavy groceries. like, absolutely not. you once tried to bring in two bags and he took them out of your hands mid-step. “what the hell are you doin’?” he said, annoyed, already loading up his arms.

doesn’t like crowds, but he’ll go anywhere with you. leans down and says “stay close” in your ear, hand low on your back the whole time. doesn’t let go until you’re home again.

he won’t dance. won’t sing. won’t go to parties. but he’ll hold you in the kitchen, swaying slightly to the radio while you hum into his chest. that, he’ll do.

major dog person. duh. doesn’t care that he’s tough. doesn’t care that he’s seen things — nothing melts him like a dog wagging its tail. he’s the kind of guy who’s out in the yard throwing a ball, talking in that low, soft voice that only dogs get to hear. “go get it, buddy!” and you almost can’t believe it’s him saying it.

makes sure your car is always in running condition. not just oil checks, either. he replaces your windshield wipers, cleans the headlights, checks the tires — all without you asking. it’s like his way of protecting you, even when he’s not around. he knows it’s a small thing, but it’s one more way to make sure you’re taken care of. you get a flat tire? frank’s there in a second. doesn’t matter what time it is, doesn’t matter if he’s just gotten home after a week-long job. he’ll grab the tools, roll up his sleeves, and take care of it — no problem.

when he gets home after a mission, he’s quiet at first. but then he’ll slide into bed next to you, pull you close, and breathe you in like he can’t quite believe he’s back. “missed you.” he’ll whisper, voice hoarse, like it took everything out of him just to say it.

when you’re quiet, lost in thought, he notices. doesn’t pry, but always checks in with a low “you alright?” just so you know he’s paying attention.

frank is actually really into music, but only plays it when he's alone with you. he has an old guitar stashed in a corner of the apartment and you’ll catch him strumming it softly in the mornings before either of you are fully awake.

whenever you’ve had a bad day, he’ll quietly take care of things around the house — extra dishes done, the laundry folded without you asking, everything wiped down and cleaned up. not because he has to, but because he wants you to feel like home, like you have one less thing to worry about. he doesn’t say anything about it; he just silently goes about it while you take a nap or relax.

he’s sentimental about your things. you’ll catch him carrying around a keychain you gave him, or putting a postcard from your last vacation on his fridge. it’s subtle, but there are all these little pieces of you around his place — items that remind him of you, things that carry a piece of your heart.

good at remembering all your friends’ names. and the names of their kids. and their jobs. you’ll be like, “i saw claire today,” and frank will be like, “the one with the twin boys? she doin’ okay?” like it’s his job to keep track of your whole social circle now.

he has a weird soft spot for baking shows. says he doesn’t care, just watches ‘cause you do — but then suddenly he’s dead serious about whether the sponge is overbaked. sits there with his arms crossed, judging the contestants like he’s on the panel. “too much fondant. gonna cost ‘em.”

he’s surprisingly good at picking gifts. not flashy ones — thoughtful ones. a new mug because your favorite one cracked. a hoodie from a concert you couldn’t go to. a book by that author you said you liked once, six months ago. he remembers everything.

he buys you snacks when he’s mad at you. not big mad — just quiet, brooding, stubborn mad. instead of talking it out right away, he drops a bag of your favorite chips or candy on the counter and walks away like that settles it. it kind of does.

he’s so gentle with your stuff. your phone, your clothes, your decor — he handles all of it like it’s fragile, even if you toss it around like nothing.

he has zero patience when you’re sick. not annoyed — just worried. extra gruff. keeps asking “you need anything?” even though he just brought you tea, tissues, meds, and a hoodie. paces around the house like he’s prepping for battle against your cold.

he doesn’t talk in the mornings. just grunts and nods. but if you’re up before him and being cute or busy or just existing in his space, he’ll pull you into his chest without saying anything.

he’s not a big texter, but he reads all your messages the second they come in. always leaves you on “read” because he’s looking at it immediately, even if he replies 3 hours later with just “ok” and a thumbs-up emoji he definitely didn’t mean to send.

he always checks the expiration date on your food. opens the fridge and mutters under his breath about the milk “cutting it too damn close.” doesn’t want you eating anything that’ll make you sick. throws out the sketchy yogurt when you’re not looking.

he’s so good at reaching things for you. doesn’t matter how tall you are, he lives to reach the thing on the top shelf before you can. you stand on your toes, and he’s suddenly behind you like, “you’re gonna hurt yourself.” then hands it over like a knight returning a holy relic.

he doesn’t like you walking home alone. ever. if he can’t come get you, he’ll track your location. texts you the whole way like, “where are you now?” “you inside yet?” “door locked?” and you know the second you stop answering he’s already throwing on his jacket.

he uses your bath products and thinks you don’t notice. you’ll wonder why your fancy shampoo is suddenly disappearing faster, but then he walks past smelling like lavender and vanilla and acts like nothing’s different. you bring it up once and he grunts, “smells nice. don’t make it a thing.”

he tucks your legs into his lap when you sit next to him. even if he’s sore. even if you’re fidgety. he just wants you there — anchored to him, warm and close. sometimes he absentmindedly rubs your calves or traces circles on your ankle while he watches the news.

he hates being away from you overnight. says he doesn’t mind, but when he’s gone, he sleeps like shit. texts you random things at 3 a.m. — “you lock the door?” “the heater working?” “dog okay?” you know he only really rests when he’s home and you’re curled up next to him.

he always brings you water before bed. even if you don’t ask. even if you forget. there’s always a glass or a bottle on your nightstand when you crawl under the covers.

he kisses the inside of your wrist when he’s too tired to speak. when the day’s been too much. when his body hurts and his mind’s too loud — he pulls your hand to his mouth and presses his lips there.

he never lets you pump your own gas. doesn’t matter the weather. rain, snow, heatwave — he takes the keys and gets out before you even unbuckle. doesn’t say a word about it. just does it because it’s second nature now.

he always opens jars for you, even when you don’t ask. like you’ll just be holding it, about to try, and suddenly he’s there. doesn’t say anything, just takes it, opens it, hands it back.

he lets you warm your hands on him. no complaint, no hesitation. just grabs your frozen fingers and presses them to his neck, under his shirt, into his palms. grunts when it stings, but never pulls away. just says, “go ahead. s’okay.”

always lingers at the door when you leave. watches you walk to your car, stands there until you’re out of sight. won’t move. won’t blink. like part of him won’t settle until you’re home again.

he’s weirdly good at untangling necklaces. big hands, thick fingers, but somehow he’s patient as hell with tiny knots. sits at the table, squinting like he’s disarming a bomb.

he knows which drawer all your stuff is in. at his place, at your place, doesn’t matter — he knows where you keep your chargers, your snacks, your pain meds. grabs things before you even ask. sometimes you wonder how he pays that much attention. you forget — he’s a soldier. he notices everything about what he loves.

he lowkey judges your shoes. not fashion-wise — function. “you’re gonna walk five blocks in those?” and if you say yes, he just sighs and gives you his arm the whole time. doesn’t say another word. but if you stumble once? “told you.”

has a deep, secret love for hot chocolate. doesn’t ask for it, never buys it, but if you make it? he’s sipping it silently, eyes half-lidded, shoulders relaxed. you catch him making it for himself once. refuses to make eye contact.

he gets the mail before you can. every day. rain or shine. not because he cares what’s in it — because he wants to be the one to deal with anything stressful before it reaches you. bills, notices, whatever. you only ever get the fun stuff. the packages. the postcards.

he remembers anniversaries you forget. first date. first road trip. the day you moved in. doesn’t make a big deal out of it, just quietly brings home your favourite dinner or sets a movie up you mentioned on that day.

he absolutely has a favorite mug. won’t admit it. but if you’re ever using it, he pauses for a second like he’s been emotionally robbed. won’t take it back, though. just pours his coffee into something else and quietly hopes you offer to switch.

he fixes things that don’t even belong to him. neighbor’s broken porch light? fixed. squeaky gate down the block? doesn’t squeak anymore.

never lets you walk through the door first if it’s dark. goes in ahead of you, even if it’s your place. checks the rooms out of habit. flips the lights on.

knocks before entering your space, even when you live together. bathroom door cracked? he knocks. bedroom door half-closed? still knocks. doesn’t matter if he knows you’re alone — he respects your space.

weirdly good at calming you down in traffic. if you’re driving and someone cuts you off? hand on your thigh. if you're stressed about getting lost? “take the next right, i got you.”

he teaches you how to punch — gently. wraps your hands himself, touches your wrists like he’s afraid they’ll bruise. he holds the pads out and murmurs “that’s it, right there,” every time your form’s good. he doesn’t teach you so you can fight. he teaches you so you won’t ever feel helpless.

so careful when you’re sleeping. gets out of bed like you’re made of glass. turns the TV down low. covers you up without waking you, tucks your hair behind your ear, kisses your shoulder and just stares for a second like he still can’t believe he gets to have this.

he writes down your car’s license plate. and the make. and the year. and the tire pressure. keeps it in a little notebook in his glove box — not because he’s nosy, but because he needs to know in case anything ever happens.

puts his name down as your emergency contact without asking. just does it. one day you’re filling something out and he goes, “already on file.” like it’s the most natural thing in the world. like of course it’s me. who else?

he reads manuals. like, actually sits down and reads them. toasters. phones. whatever you buy, he knows how to fix it, clean it, use every setting.

he wears your hair ties on his wrist. even when you didn’t ask him to. finds them in the bathroom or under the couch and just keeps them there like it’s a reflex. you don’t notice until one day he silently hands you one without looking and you realize — he’s always paying attention.

calls you “kid” sometimes, even if you’re not younger. not condescending — it’s fond. soft. it slips out when he’s feeling protective. like, “c’mon, kid, get some rest,” or “you did good, kid.” and if anyone else calls you that, he bristles like no — mine.

he gets tense when you’re near windows at night. especially lit ones. moves around the room in ways that put him between you and the glass. not paranoid. just hardwired to protect you. you don’t notice until one night you go to close the curtains and he’s already there, pulling them shut with a soft, “let me get that.”

he texts you like he’s on a recon mission. all short updates: “headed back.” / “store’s packed.” / “traffic’s shit.” but every now and then, he’ll throw in something like “you eat yet?” or “thinking about you.” and those are the ones that wreck you a little.

he always leaves the porch light on if you're out late. even if you say you don’t need it. even if you’re only gone for ten minutes. it’s not about the light. it’s about you always having something to come home to.

he’s secretly a little superstitious about you. doesn’t let you say things like “what if something happens to you.” knocks on wood under the table. leaves the porch light on even when you’re only gone ten minutes. he’s seen too much not to be cautious. and you — you’re the one thing he refuses to lose.

double-knots your laces. crouches down in front of you without a word, doesn’t make it a thing. just ties them up snug and gives your ankle a gentle pat before standing.

sets your things by the door if you’re running late. bag, keys, jacket, water bottle. lines them up neatly like he’s giving you every small advantage he can. “you’re gonna be late,” he says, already handing you your coffee. you kiss his cheek on the way out. he pretends it didn’t make him smile.

he gets fussy if you don’t eat. doesn’t scold, just… fusses. quietly. starts cooking something without asking. sets a plate in front of you like “you don’t gotta finish it, just eat a little.”

wears your chapstick when he can’t find his. acts like it’s no big deal. “same stuff, right?” but if it smells like you he ends up keeping it in his pocket the rest of the day.

refills your water bottle. always. before bed. before work. if you leave it in the car, he brings it in and tops it off. just does it. in his head, hydration = survival = love.

he buys you medicine before you even realize you’re sick. notices you sniffling or rubbing your temples, and the next day it’s already there — cold meds, your favorite tea, tissues, cough drops.

started 4.27.2025. finished 4.29.2025.

( masterlist. )

©️ monicfever 2025

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lovelybucky1 · 2 months ago

Text

frank who’s too afraid to be rough with you. he’s used to using his hands for violence, to kill and to maim, and it’s been so long since he’s had something delicate. he’s afraid if he holds on too tight, touches you too much, you’ll break.

you won’t shatter like glass, but you can wince and bruise and bleed and cry and he doesn’t want to make his girl feel anything other than pleasure. in his mind, you’re too sweet to experience any kind of pain

it took a long conversation with lots of reassurance to even get him to put his hand around your throat. not squeezing, not choking, just resting the weight of his hand on your delicate skin while he makes love to you.

eventually you work up to hair-pulling and the occasional spank, but that’s as far as frank is willing to go. he knows you like it and he wants to make you feel good, but he knows what he’s capable of and he’s afraid he might go too far.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fanfic #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #the punisher #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher x reader #the punisher x you #the punisher fanfic #the punisher smut #punisher #punisher x reader #punisher x you #punisher smut #punisher fanfiction #punisher fanfic

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ghoulishhx · 1 month ago

Text

overstimulating frank castle ♡

was talking about this idea with the girls, and had to write it. credit to @carbonfiction for helping out with this idea!!

18+ MDNI below the cut :3

it was rare you got frank castle overstimulated and practically cumming in his jeans, but tonight was one of those lucky occasions.

just feeling you, his soft perfect girlfriend, on his face as you rode his nose, whimpering softly and praising him was enough to make his cock twitch unbearably so against the restrictive fabric of his denims.

"fuck frankie- feels s-so good." you whine as your orgasm is imminent, the pace in which your hips rut into his lower face falters as you feel his strong hands grip harsher into the plush of your thighs. Frank begins moving your hips for you, chasing your own orgasm for you as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"taste s'good sweetheart, feel ya clenching round m'tongue" he groans into your core, the vibrations sending shockwaves across your body as his nose nudges deliciously across your clit.

"'m close frank.. shit just like that" you whimper between broken moans and sobs, grabbing onto his hair at the roots to stable yourself as ecstacy takes over you. your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave as you rub your sex against the stubble of his face, the sharpness of his jaw.

"that's it sweet girl. sound so pretty, fuckin' made f'me." he moans into you as you lift yourself from his mouth, his lips swollen, red and covered in your arousal. thick, white cream coats his lips as he runs his tongue across them, the muscle collecting every drop of juice you offered him.

your attention falls from his face as your eyes fall onto his cock, impossibly hard against his jeans, a dark patch of precum sits pretty at his tip. you bite your lip as you place your small hand over his large member, rubbing him through the material as he bucks his hips into your hand, grateful for friction.

the noises you elicit from him are sinful, borderline pornographic. all from a simple touch to his cock he's like putty in your palm, eyes rolling to the back of his head as needy whimpers escape his mouth.

"fuck baby- got s'close just from tastin' ya. need to be inside ya, now." frank grumbles, sitting up and instantly flipping you over onto your knees as you arch your back and smoosh your face into the pillow. he whistles at the sight, and you yelp as you feel a harsh smack across your ass, followed by him pulling your cheek apart to admire the mess he made of your pussy with his face.

"so gorgeous babydoll, gonna fill y'up so good, gonna feel me for days." frank moans as he unsheathes himself from his jeans, pulling them down along with his boxers to his knees, desperation taking over him.

he pushes himself fully inside, your slick gliding him in so easily as he pushes himself to the hilt. you barely register the sting you're so turned on, however you know that feeling will catch up to you in time. you can't help but begin rocking your hips into his hastily, need devouring you as you bounce on your boyfriends cock.

"b-baby slow down, i'm gonna.. shit.. 'm not gonna last long if y'keep-"

you look over your shoulder to see him, biting his knuckles as if it would do anything to subdue his orgasm. you meet his gaze with a mischievous glint as you rock into him even faster, harder, clenching your walls around him.

it takes all of 5 seconds until he's spilling himself inside of you, painting your insides white as his cock twitches and his mouth whimpers, bruisingly gripping your hips as he swears. you can't help but giggle, loving the way you made him cum so quickly.

franks face goes beet red, feeling so embarrassed from his quick orgasm as he pulls himself from you. the embarrassment subsides as he watches you flip onto your back, spreading your legs as you swirl his seed around your fingers and across your clit. his eyes darken with lust, embarrassment quickly swapping to something primal, something dangerous.

"greedy girl, I told ya to slow down 'n you didn't." he states with a slap to your pussy, the contact making your back lift from the bed as you hiss. "just couldn't wait to be full'a my cum could ya?"

you shake your head, biting your red lower lip with your top teeth as he wraps his left hand around your neck, fingers tracing your jawline before he plunges his thumb in your mouth.

"youre a bad fuckin' girl doll. wanted to be a brat, gonna be treated like one." frank stuffs his free fingers inside of your heat, curling to reach your spongy spot as you whimper around his digit. "'m nowhere near done with ya, sweetheart."

your boyfriend drags multiple orgasms out of you for the rest of the night, you stopped counting after your fourth one, punishing you for taking his first orgasm so soon. he finishes the relentless assault inside of you with his freshly hard cock, spilling inside of your overstimulated cunt once more, stuffing you so full of him just like he promised hours ago.

a/n: couldn't stop thinking about this for hours and had to indulge myself rq LOL. hope you enjoy my loves!!

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bambiisin · 2 months ago

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HARDER THAN WAR

frank castle x reader

frank is shy around you

Frank Castle has faced warzones, crime syndicates, and hell itself. But nothing prepares him for the quiet storm behind the counter of the corner coffee shop.

She works mornings. He knows because he’s been showing up every morning for the past three weeks.Same black coffee, same table by the window, same silence.

At first, it was a coincidence. He ducked in for cover during a rainstorm. Then it became routine. Not because of the coffee. Because of her. The way she hums under her breath while she wipes down tables. The way she smiles at regulars like they’re old friends. The way she says “Have a good day, Frank,” like she means it.

She knows his name. That alone makes his chest ache.

But Frank Castle doesn’t do talking. He does brooding. Watching. Protecting from the shadows. Hell, he’s better at defusing bombs than saying hi to a woman who smells like vanilla and coffee beans.

He tries once. Sort of. She’s pouring his coffee, and he opens his mouth to say something.anything, but all that comes out is a grunt and a stiff nod.

Smooth.

She doesn’t seem to mind. Just gives him that soft smile, the kind he hasn’t seen in years. The kind that feels like something he doesn’t deserve.

By week four, he knows her schedule, her favorite playlist, and the fact that she sneaks sips of caramel syrup straight from the bottle when she thinks no one’s looking.

He still doesn’t know her name.

Today, the place is quieter than usual. Rain taps against the windows, and the smell of cinnamon hangs in the air. She’s alone behind the counter, wiping down the espresso machine, earbuds in, swaying gently to some song he can’t hear.

He tells himself it’s now or never.

Frank walks up to the counter. His boots are too loud. His heart is louder. She doesn’t notice him right away, not until he clears his throat.

She pulls out one earbud and smiles. “Hey, Frank. The usual?”

He opens his mouth. No sound. His hands twitch. He’s held rifles steadier than this.

“I—uh…” he starts, staring hard at the sugar packets like they’ve personally offended him.

She tilts her head, patient. Kind.

“I was wonderin’…” He swallows, jaw tight. “If maybe you’d wanna… get a coffee. I mean,not here. Somewhere else. With me.”

For a second, he’s sure the silence is going to kill him.

Then she grins. wide and bright.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

And just like that, the Punisher breathes a little easier.

——————————-

(cuties :3)

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kyamiia · 14 hours ago

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i need frank to cradle me close to his chest while nodding, “mhhm. i know kid.” is all he can give me as he strokes my hair, slightly rocking me, his big arms wrapped around my body as his cheek rests next to my head,,,, oughhhhhh i need frank to hold me and tell me everything’s okay,,,,

#kyamiia #kyamiia talks #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #frank castle #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x reader comfort #fluff #frank castle x you

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cherryknotsclub · 2 months ago

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CHANGE IN ROUTINE | 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞

𐙚 summary: you decide to change up you and frank's morning routine.

𐙚 pairing: frank castle x fem!housewife!reader

𐙚 warning: down bad frank, rough play, unprotected p in v (wrap before u tap!), creampie

You knew what you were doing when you decided to wear one of your skimpiest lingerie while preparing breakfast in the kitchen. Hell, you even put on mascara and his favorite shade of lipstick just to make sure he got riled up. You just had no clue how successful you'd be.

Frank always loved seeing you cook him his meals; the domesticity you gave him was a complete 180 from the violence that he usually dealt with. But for him to walk into the kitchen to see you making scrambled eggs with your tits on display and your ass cheeks hanging out of the tiny silk dress he bought for you? You got him riled up, alright.

Now you're bent over the kitchen table, your lace panties around your ankles and your silk slip bunched around your waist as Frank's hard cock stretched your pussy wide. Your carefully curled locks are now bunched up in his fist while he fucked you, his hips slamming against your ass with every thrust, sure to cause bruises. The table creaks with every movement, but the squeaking of wood against the tile floor couldn't overpower the sounds of your moans and the slapping of his skin against yours.

Frank's calloused fingers find your clit, the rough pad of his thumb mercilessly rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves. You cry out at the sensation, your back arching and your pussy tightening its grip around his cock. You claw at the table as his thrusts quicken, your slick juices almost eliminating any friction between his shaft and your throbbing walls.

"Christ. You're being so good, baby," Frank groans, his teeth digging into your shoulder, eliciting a whine from your drooling lips. "Your pussy's soaking wet just for me."

He grips your face, forcing your lips to pucker up as he smashes his lips against yours. He sucks on your bottom lip while some of your lipstick gets smeared onto his face. Your lips are swollen once he pulls away, strings of saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth.

"Fuck! I'm getting close, Frank," you whimper, the sensation in the pits of your stomach growing with every thrust of his hips against yours.

"Is that so, doll?" Frank growls in response, a sense of ferality overcoming him. His hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your skin so hard that they bruise your soft flesh. His thrusts quicken, his cock slamming into you and his balls slapping against your throbbing clit. Your moans grow louder as your tits bounced widly, your hard nipples poking through the lace of your lingerie.

Your entire body shakes as your orgasm tears through every inch of your body, waves of pleasure overcoming you. Frank continues to fuck you relentlessly through your orgasm, pained moans leaving your lips from the overstimulating sensation. His rough thrusts don't stop until his cock finally pulses, and spurts of hot, sticky cum shoot inside your pussy.

"That's my good fucking girl," Franks rasps, his thrusts slowing as he fucks his cum deep inside you.

He collapses on top of you, your body trapped between his and the sweat-slicked kitchen table underneath you. The both of you are silent, save for your heavy breathing, catching your breath from the morning cardio you just went through. Your mind is still dazed with pleasure that you almost forget about the scrambled eggs cooking on the stove. As if on cue, the scent of burning food fills your nose, and the fire alarm starts ringing.

"Shit," Frank mutters. Immediately, he pulls away to tend to the neglected breakfast, leaving you still bent over the the kitchen table with buckled knees, a mixture of your juices and his cum dripping from your thighs and onto the tiled floor of the kitchen.

#the punisher #frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #the punisher x reader #the punisher x you #frank castle smut #the punisher smut #jon bernthal #jon bernthal x reader #jon bernthal smut #mcu #mcu smut #mcu x reader

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dameronology · 4 months ago

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marvel men + love languages

steve rogers - physical touch + words of affi

the sacred combo!! steve is a clingy mf - either always having his arms wrapped around his s.o, a hand on their leg or on their waist, and if he's not with them, he'll be texting you all day, asking how you are and just chatting. steve has had to learn to live every day like it's his last, so he'll never go to work, bed, or even to the shops, without telling you he loves you. it's just part of his routine, really.

bucky barnes - acts of service

bucky is not very good with words, or with expressing himself. even before hydra, it was something he struggled with. so, acts of service are his main love language. it can be little things - making coffee in the morning, putting the laundry away when he knows you're busy - or bigger things, like taking your car into the shop when you forget, or building new furniture, or shaking down your weird co-worker who was kinda mean the other day. he finds so much purpose in just making your life easier (in a healthy way!!).

sam wilson - quality time

sam is a man of quality time. he has to work away quite a lot and is always on the go with work and his tasks, but when he does see you - and he makes sure it's a fair amount - he tries to make it count. hell, it doesn't even matter what you do, as long as he's with you. sam does try to make sure you're always having a good balance of chill time and fun activities though, so he always plans the best day.

frank castle - words of affirmation + gifts

aight this might seem weird bc frank is not very good with words (try and make him form a sentence without a swear word or abbreviation, i dare you) but the ones he does say, he always means. especially when he says that he loves you and would probably kill for you. but, it's frank's famously bad way with words that make you realise how much he loves you - because you're the only person he will verbally open up to and be a complete and open book with. as for gifts, every single one he has ever bought you has been the most thoughtful, sweet things; stuff you wouldn't even think to buy yourself. it's just a testament for how well he knows you.

matt murdock - physical touch

this one feels fairly obvious tbh, because alongside his hearing, matt's touch is his the sense he relies on most. he loves your voice and the way you sound but most of all, he loves the way you feel. whether it's the feeling of your skin against his, your fingers all tangled up, or when you kiss him, he just fucking loves it. physical touch is matt's favourite way of knowing you.

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year ago

Note

hope you having a good day/night 💘

frank having a wet dream (i’m not a native speaker i’m not sure if it’s called this, i’m sorry) about reader and when it’s just about to endddd….reader wakes him up cos obviously he was grunting, sweating and moving a lot in his sleep so she thought he was having a nightmare and she’s worried about him…(my horny brain just died here so i’m leaving the rest of it to you)

a/n: this maaaaaaaannnn 🫠

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“Frank? Baby, wake up,” your sprawled-out fingers gently swept over his broad shoulder, “it’s okay, it’s just a nightmare.”

On a sharp intake of oxygen, Frank stirred from his slumber. Blinking open his dark eyes to see you staring back at him, your cheek smooshed against your pillow, only a second passed before his touch slid up to the sides of your face as he longingly let his forehead melt against your own.

“Wow,” you uttered softly as he crawled closer, “are you okay?”

“Mhm,” he hummed gravelly before crashing his lips against yours.

Out of pure surprise, a palm came up to press against his chest as you grasped the first sliver of a break to tilt your head back enough to search his eyes in the low moonlight, “Frank?”

“It wasn’t a nightmare,” his thumb brushed across your cheekbone as his gaze all but ate you up.

“Frank, you don’t have to act all tough around me, you know that–,” but the rest of your sentence fell from your lips as he rolled on top of you and the palpable tent in his boxers pressed against your thigh, “oh…” heat swiftly began to rise in your cheeks, “not a nightmare, got it,” a small chuckle bubbled out of you, “I guess I’m sorry then for waking you up.”

“It’s alright,” he dipped down to press a kiss to your jaw, “dreams are fun and all,” his pecks slowly began to migrate further south, “but I’d much rather have the real deal,” holding onto the covers that draped over you both, he flashed you a small smirk before his head disappeared beneath it.

“Frank…” you let out a laugh as he moved down your body, caressing your curves before his head settled between your soft thighs, “was it about me?” you held the top of the duvet up for you to see him, “did you have a sex dream about me?”

Cocking his head, he said, “why do you sound so surprised?” and pressed a hot kiss to the very top of your inner thigh, “they’re always about you.”

#lea’s writing #frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle imagine #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #jon bernthal smut #marvel smut #marvel x reader smut #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader

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chvoswxtch · 1 year ago

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teach me

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you want frank to teach you self defense, but it doesn't quite go the way you expected.

warnings: swearing, some angst, mentions of guns, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 8.3k

a/n: what better way to end this year and start the new one than with our favorite hot bodyguard. don't ask me how many times I watched that scene with him and amy. it was for science. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

“You’re being a dick.”

“Hey, you said you wanted to learn.”

“You’re still being a dick.”

“Yeah yeah, you ain’t gettin’ no sympathy from me, sweetheart. Now c’mon, try again.”

It was a good thing the cabin was isolated in the middle of the woods, because if anyone had been looking in the living room window at that very moment, they would’ve definitely called the police in horror. Frank had a gun in his right hand that was trained on you, and while he wore a neutral expression on his face, your brows were furrowed in pure annoyance and there was a faint scowl on your lips.

Letting out a huff of irritation, you kept your eyes focused on the gun in Frank’s hand, getting back into somewhat of a fighting stance again. Clenching your hands open and closed a few times, your teeth sank down into your bottom lip before you suddenly rushed forward in an endeavor to take the gun out of his hand.

But just like he had done the past seven times you tried this, Frank easily managed to block your attempt. He grabbed your wrist in his free hand and spun you around swiftly, pulling you back firmly against his chest while a deep chuckle sounded right next to your ear.

“That was real cute.”

Letting go of you, Frank took a step back and lightly pressed at the back of your knee with the heel of his boot, sending you down to your knees below him. He decided to take it a step further and used the toe of his boot to gently shove at your ass, causing your hands to fly out to catch yourself, rendering you on all fours in front of him. Turning to narrow your eyes at him over your shoulder, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth let you know that was very intentional.

“You know, if you wanted me on my knees, all you had to do was ask.”

“That right?”

Grumbling a string of curses under your breath, you pushed yourself back up onto your feet and turned around to shoot a death glare in Frank’s direction. His plush lips instantly parted into a crooked grin while he looked at you, cocking his head to the side slightly while his eyes twinkled in amusement.

“Aw, what’s wrong baby, hm?”

“I already told you, you’re being a dick. You’re supposed to be teaching me-”

“Then why don’t you quit actin’ like you know everythin’ and start askin’ questions, yeah?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know what questions to ask? I asked you to teach me. Teach me means tell me what to do.”

“And when have you ever done what I told ya to?”

As you opened your mouth to protest, Frank arched one of his thick brows and shot you a pointed look, and your rebuttal quickly died on your tongue. You did have a history of ignoring his instructions completely and doing whatever you wanted anyway. With that in mind, you let out a deep exhale through your nose and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Okay, that’s…fair. But this is completely out of my area of expertise. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never even held a gun until four days ago. And for the record, when it comes to something serious, I do listen to you. This is serious, and I’m listening.”

Originally when you asked Frank to teach you self defense with a gun, he was completely against it. He made the argument that with him around, you wouldn’t have to worry about that, to which you reminded him of the incident where two people tried to kill you in your own home where you had nothing to protect yourself with and no knowledge of how to in the first place.

The two of you went back and forth about it for at least an hour. He made the case that it was a one time incident that would never happen again, and argued that nothing was ever going to happen to you in the first place anyway because he showed up to take care of it. You argued back that Frank wouldn’t be by your side twenty-four seven anymore and would eventually be assigned to someone else, possibly taking him far away for extended periods of time.

In the end, you wore him down like you usually did until he gave in and you got your way.

Frank took in the impatient and stubborn expression covering your features, the one he had become all too familiar with and grown to adore. You were a force to be reckoned with when you wanted something, just as much as he was. Even though he didn’t want you to ever have a reason to use a gun, he would rather know you were safe and could handle yourself in his absence if it came down to it.

“Alright, alright. Wipe that pout off your face and c’mere.”

Doing your best to conceal your tiny smile of victory, you went to stand in front of Frank, but he held his large hand out to stop you and motioned for you to move back a little.

“Keep your distance, okay? You don’t wanna be too close. Now, step one.”

Frank reached out to grab your wrist and brought your hand up towards the barrel of the gun, placing his large hand on top of your own and squeezing gently to signal for you to grab onto it. Once he felt your tight grip on the barrel, he slid his hand over to grab onto your forearm and pushed against it, which caused the gun in his right hand to shift directions. It was no longer aimed at you, but pointed at the wall to your left.

“You wanna take the gun offline, yeah? Look.”

Glancing up at him briefly, you nodded to show him that you were paying attention. When he pulled your arm back in the position it was before, aiming the gun at you once again, you quickly redirected your focus back to his large hands. To reiterate what he was trying to explain to you, Frank repeated his demonstration two more times to make sure you understood.

“Offline, right? Offline, right? And push hard, as hard as you can.”

While Frank’s eyes were locked on you as he demonstrated the first step, you were studying his movements, committing every detail to memory. It seemed simple enough in theory so far. Keep your distance, grab the barrel of the gun, and push it away from yourself hard. When he let go of your arm, you let go of the gun, and you looked up to see that Frank was already watching you.

“Show me.”

Without hesitating, you swiftly reached out to grab the barrel of the gun and forcefully pushed it to the left. Frank let you redirect it to a certain point, and then pushed back to hold the gun in place. His strength was something you couldn’t combat, and as you kept pushing at the barrel, his resistance made the gun almost wobble in your hands.

“Attagirl. Easy, easy. Relax.”

Frank reached out with his left hand and grabbed onto your wrist, gently squeezing it to steady your hand.

“Alright, now step two, you go for that wrist, yeah? You get control. Go.”

Immediately you reached out with your right hand to wrap your fingers around Frank’s wrist to grab onto it tightly. Giving a slight shake of his head, Frank pulled your hand off of his wrist and guided it underneath his wrist instead.

“Look, underneath, yeah? Underneath. Go for the joint. Joints are weakest.”

Everything Frank was showing you seemed so simple that it filled you with a false sense of confidence. With your right hand under his right wrist, you gripped onto the barrel tightly with your left hand and took a step back as you tried to tug it away, thinking it would spring loose. Frank let out a grunt of disapproval and pulled his right arm back, easily slipping the gun out of your grasp completely and causing you to stumble forward a bit. He had a somewhat stern look on his face as he wagged the gun in your direction twice.

“Easy, bang bang. Don’t ever pull a gun towards you. You push it away.”

Letting out a huff of annoyance as your previous overzealous confidence fizzled out, you looked up at Frank as he held his left hand out towards you to signal for you to stay in place. He wasn’t teasing you anymore like he had been earlier. This wasn't Frank that had made you strawberry pancakes and caressed your legs while they sat in his lap as the two of you shared breakfast this morning. This was Frank that nearly sent your ex to the morgue instead of prison. He was back in full protective bodyguard mode.

“Listen to me. Use your legs, get underneath, and twist. Don’t pull, twist. Yeah? C’mon, show me.”

Taking a deep breath, you gave a slight nod and went over the steps in your head. Grab the barrel of the gun, shove it away from yourself, slip your other hand under the wrist joint, and twist the gun away. Your lips faintly twitched as you silently recited the steps to yourself three times for good measure. Frank didn’t make a move to rush you. He kept his eyes on you and waited patiently until you were ready to give it a try.

Sucking in one more deep breath, your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and you sprung into action. Taking a quick step forward, you reached out to tightly grab the barrel of the gun with your left hand, and while you pushed it away to the left, you simultaneously slipped your right hand under Frank’s wrist. Twisting the barrel of the gun forcefully to the right caused Frank’s wrist to twist with it until he was forced to let go, and in that short window of weakness you were able to pull the gun out of his hand with a hard step backwards.

Glancing down at the gun in your hands, your eyes went wide with surprise and your mouth hung open as you let out an incredulous laugh.

“Holy shit, that actually worked!”

Frank held his hands up like you had just made a touchdown, and he started to clap as a proud tooth bearing grin stretched over his lips.

“Look at that, huh? Who got a gun, huh?”

Looking up at Frank, your lips parted into a huge grin of your own while you held it up like a trophy and spoke in a proud voice.

“I have a gun.”

“Attagirl. You’re goddamn right you do. You did good, sweetheart. Real good. Feels good, yeah?”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you let out a soft laugh while admiring the gun in your hands. Well, more so admiring the fact that you were able to actually take it from Frank. The only reason you felt comfortable holding the gun right now was because Frank had shown you the clip was empty before he started demonstrating the basics earlier.

Pointing a loaded gun at Steven had been different. You were blinded in a fit of rage, not thinking clearly, but deep down you knew there was no way you would have actually pulled the trigger. However if you had been level headed, you probably wouldn’t have taken it from Billy, even if he offered.

“Yeah…yeah it does.”

And it did feel good. It made you feel strong…less helpless. Frank was giving you back a sense of safety and security that had been stolen from you when you were first threatened by the Defenders of Freedom. Even if you never used this lesson, and you genuinely hoped you wouldn’t have to, you felt a surge of confidence knowing that you were at least capable of protecting yourself in some capacity.

“Okay, step three.”

A pinch of confusion settled between your brows as you looked up at Frank when he mentioned a third step, and you noticed that he wasn’t smiling anymore. A grim look had settled over his features that sent a chill of unease down your spine.

“You just took a gun off someone that wanted to use it on you. What d’you do.”

The delight of pride had disappeared from his face and was swiftly replaced by a shadow of severity that was now coveting his sharp features, and the elated grin that was on your own lips had slowly fallen from grace. It was a rhetorical question you both knew the answer to, but you hadn’t factored in a third step. It hadn’t even crossed your mind, and Frank could see that in your eyes.

“You use it on them. Don’t matter who they are, you do not hesitate. You got that?”

Looking down at the gun in your hands, the weight of it was suddenly too heavy in your palms. Step three was a reminder that step one and two weren’t just to boost your confidence in protecting yourself; they were steps to defend yourself. Swallowing thickly, you nodded your head in silent understanding.

“Good. Show me.”

Frank’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a command, but it wasn’t a suggestion either. Placing both of your hands on the gun the way he had shown you to properly hold it, you took a deep breath, slowly raising it to aim in Frank’s direction. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that he knew the clip was empty, or that this most likely wasn’t the first time he had stared down the barrel of a gun, but he looked completely unphased. The canvas of his face was expressionless, but his eyes were what you had learned to read. Only right now, you couldn’t understand what they were trying to tell you.

The gun trembled slightly in your grasp, as if every cell in your body knew exactly how wrong it felt to point a gun at Frank, loaded or not. The self defense lesson you wanted for a possible yet highly improbable scenario had quickly become too heavy and realistic, and you were quickly regretting even asking for it.

“Show me.”

“I’m not doing that-”

“It ain’t loaded-”

“Frank, I don’t want to-”

“What’d I say, huh? I don’t care who it is, you do not hesitate. Ever. Now, show me you understand.”

Frank’s tone was a little more forceful, but the volume of it was still even and somewhat soft. You knew there were no repercussions if you didn’t pull the trigger. He had learned early on that he couldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to, and you trusted him enough to know that he would never try to force you. Frank never demanded anything of you, he always asked.

But you had asked for this, and he wanted you to follow through with it.

Clenching your jaw, you let out a shaky exhale through your nose, and you slowly squeezed the trigger like he had taught you to yesterday when you were out in the woods using cans as target practice. The click that sounded caused you to flinch, and it seemed to echo loudly in the living room. Frank on the other hand didn’t visibly react to it at all.

Without another word, you placed the gun down onto the coffee table a little too forcefully and headed towards the back door, wanting to put as much distance between it and yourself as possible. Frank caught your wrist before you could get too far and gently tugged you back towards himself.

“Hey-”

“I’m going for a walk.”

“No, you ain’t. You ain’t runnin’ away, you’re gonna stay here and talk to me. We ain’t doin’ that not communicatin’ shit. Why are you upset?”

“I told you I didn’t want to do that-”

“You asked me to teach you. I said no, but you kept on beggin’. What did you think this was gonna be, huh? You think you get a gun off someone, and it ends there? No. As soon as you get control and take it, you use it. No negotiatin’, no questionin’ it, you do it-”

“And what if I can’t, Frank?”

The distress in your voice made him pause and clench his jaw. He could see that you were visibly upset, and for a moment he wondered if he was being too hard on you. You said it yourself, this was not your area of expertise. It was his. Frank had years of professional training under his belt. Pulling a trigger was something he didn’t even have to think twice about. It was an automatic response. The aftermath of what followed didn’t even make him bat an eye. There were always casualties in war.

But you weren’t a soldier, and having to actually pull the trigger on someone would be something that haunted you for the rest of your life if it came down to it.

Letting out a deep exhale through his large nose, Frank stepped forward and wrapped one of his arms around your waist to pull you into his embrace while using his other hand to slip his fingers gently into your hair to brush it back before cradling your face in his right hand.

“Listen to me. If it comes down to you, or someone else, you do whatever you gotta do to save yourself, you got that?”

The rational part of your brain knew that Frank was right. If you had taken a gun from Cavella or Walker, you would’ve had to shoot them. There’s no way they wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to kill you if they had it. But the emotional part of your brain was struggling to figure out if you could handle the consequences of taking someone’s life, justified or not. Frank could see the internal conflict in your eyes, and he lightly brushed the calloused pad of his thumb along your cheekbone as the rough timbre of his voice broke the tense silence.

“Hey, no one’s sayin’ you gotta shoot ‘em point blank, alright? I’ve seen your aim, and it ain’t all that great anyway. You’d be lucky to scare ‘em off with firin’ a terrible shot just so you could get away.”

Rolling your eyes at his comment, you let out a dry laugh. As much as you wanted to be annoyed, he was right. You were terrible. You didn’t hit a single can yesterday, even at close range. You did manage to scare the shit out of some crows in a tree though.

“You are such an ass.”

The edge of Frank’s mouth twitched up into a light smirk while giving your waist a gentle squeeze.

“And you’re cute thinkin’ you could actually do some damage. I know a blind guy that can hit targets better than you. Look, you gotta stop gettin’ upset ‘bout things that might not even happen, alright? If it ever comes down to it, remember that you’re the one controllin’ the gun, yeah? It ain’t controllin’ you. Wherever you aim, the bullet’s gonna go. You can shoot ‘em in the leg, foot, shoulder, hell shoot ‘em in the dick for all I care. That’ll keep ‘em down for a while. You just promise me you’ll pull that trigger. You get ‘em down however you want, and then you get the hell outta there. That’s all you gotta do, yeah?”

Frank dipped his head to catch your eyes, staring intently into them. Letting out a deep breath, you bit down on your bottom lip and nodded while placing your hands on Frank’s biceps. You could do that. Injuring someone just to get away was a lot more manageable for your conscience. Frank lightly grasped your jaw in his large hand, his bottom three fingers wrapping around your throat while his index finger and thumb held your jaw. He tipped your head back so that you had no choice but to look up at him.

“Lemme hear you say it.”

Staring up into his warm brown eyes, you gazed up at him silently for a moment before speaking.

“No hesitating. I promise.”

“Attagirl. C’mere.”

Frank leaned in to capture your lips in a soft and sweet kiss. Sometimes it amazed you how easily he was able to talk you down from the ledge. Frank was a man of few words, but he somehow always knew exactly which ones to say to ease whatever anxieties were weighing on your mind. And the distraction of his plush lips against yours also certainly helped.

Ever since the other night by the fireplace, every kiss between the two of you that started out soft and sweet had a way of evolving into something more passionate and insatiable. Maybe it was the months of denying your feelings for one another, or maybe there was just some magnetic pull between your souls, but whatever it was, neither of you could get enough.

Before you could even register that you were moving, Frank was lifting you up by your hips and setting you down on the dining table, his hungry kisses leaving a searing path along your jawline and down the column of your neck.

“Did good today, sweetheart. Did real goddamn good, made me so proud.”

Frank’s gravely songs of praise in your ear only further ignited the flame of desire that was burning in your lower belly. Despite the warmth of his large palm touching your bare skin as he slipped it underneath your shirt to caress your lower back, a shiver teasingly tumbled down your spine from the contact.

“I had a good teacher.”

“Nah, I think you’re just a natural, baby.”

“I thought I had terrible aim?”

“Didn’t say you were perfect. Everybody’s got their strengths and weaknesses.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you could feel the rumble of Frank’s deep chuckle vibrating in his chest that was pressed against yours.

“Wow, you really know how to sweep a girl off her feet, Castle.”

Frank pulled back slightly to look down at you, his eyes traveling over your figure to drink in the sight of you sitting on the edge of the dining table before they slowly wandered back up to meet your gaze. He arched one of his thick brows as a smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Yours are currently danglin’, sweetheart.”

Before you could retort with a smartass comment of your own, Frank’s mouth was back on your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin. Feeling his tongue gliding along your collarbone and giving it a delectable love bite, you closed your eyes and let your head fall back, granting Frank all the access he wanted to your skin.

The feeling of his lips on your neck was so heavenly you almost didn’t notice that he had popped the button on your jeans and tugged down your zipper until he was lifting you up slightly with one arm around your waist and pulling the denim down your hips with his free hand. As soon as your jeans were completely off, your own hands were reaching for Frank’s belt buckle, but he grasped your wrists and halted your attempt. A soft noise of protest quickly slipped past your lips.

“Frank-”

“Shh shh shh. Spread your legs for me, baby.”

A rush of heat pooled in your cheeks at his request, but you obliged immediately. Frank leaned in to kiss you deeply, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip and nipping at it softly while his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your panties and slipped them off too slowly for your liking. The sudden contact of the crisp autumn air coming in through the open windows hitting your slicked folds had you gasping, and Frank used that to his advantage by slipping his tongue into your mouth to caress your own sensually.

“Spread ‘em wider for me, sweetheart. C’mon.”

Frank’s deep voice was quiet, but it nestled in your ears as comfortably as it did between your thighs. He pulled you a little more towards the edge of the dining table, and when you spread your legs further for him, he sank down to his knees in front of you and let out a low groan of appreciation at the sight waiting for him.

“Attagirl, that’s it. God, look at you. You should see how fuckin’ pretty you look right now, baby.”

His large hands gripped onto your soft thighs, kneading and squeezing your flesh with his thick fingers. Frank didn’t waste a second before diving into your cunt face first. As soon as his warm and wet tongue began to strum your clit like chords to his favorite song, your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head. He brought your legs over his broad shoulders, burying his face so deep into your core, you weren’t sure how he was breathing.

Your hand quickly found a fistful of his slightly grown out hair that you gripped onto to steady yourself, and when you gave it an experimental tug, the vibration of his groan against your clit had your thighs trembling more than any toy you had ever gotten for yourself before.

“Fuck…Frank…”

Frank let out a loud grunt as he pulled back for just a moment to stare at your glistening pussy almost in awe, his hooded eyes briefly meeting your own for a second before focusing back on the display of your desire for him.

“Taste so good sweetheart, so fuckin’ good. You got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

He dove right back in, this time slipping his tongue inside of you to explore while using his large nose to bump against your clit repeatedly. The stimulation had your back arching off the dining table and a loud moan echoed throughout the cabin. Tugging harder at his dark roots, you pushed your hips up against his face, desperately and greedily searching for more. None of your exes had ever eaten you out like this before. Most of them didn’t even know what the fuck they were doing, and the rest gave up after a few minutes because it “took too long”, but still expected you to suck them off until your jaw ached.

But Frank…God, Frank knew what he was doing. His thick fingers were digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, following your hips wherever they went. The groans that continued to vibrate against your clit not only turned you on because of their stimulation, but because you could tell that Frank was genuinely enjoying eating your pussy. The fact that he was getting just as much pleasure out of it as you were had you on the brink of an orgasm alone. Frank had a way of making every experience feel brand new, and it made you realize just how much you had been missing out on in your previous relationships.

That familiar bubbly feeling was building up inside of you, cresting slowly like a tidal wave ready to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting beach. Your breaths were coming out in short staccato variations, and at this point you were roughy tugging at Frank’s hair with both hands while essentially fucking his face. Not that he seemed to mind at all. If anything, it just seemed to make him more feral.

“Yesyesyesyes…please-fuck, Frank…I…I…”

Frank pulled you even closer towards the edge of the dining table to where your ass was basically hanging off of it, and the jolt of his large palm smacking against your ass was the only indication you got that he understood what you were trying to tell him.

You thought you had more time, but your climax suddenly crashed into you without further warning, and your hips were stuttering as Frank continued his incessant assault on your pussy with his tongue. It seemed like he didn’t want to let a drop of your essence go to waste, and while you appreciated his enthusiasm, the way he was flicking his tongue rapidly against your overstimulated clit was riding that very thin line between pain and pleasure, and you were weakly shoving at his broad shoulders.

“Okay okay okay…Frank…fuck, please! Just…give me a second, God-”

Frank dragged his tongue up your entire pussy from your entrance to your clit one last time before granting you mercy with a low growl. While you panted heavily laying back against the dining room table, he was pressing featherlight kisses to each of your inner thighs, but due to your body feeling like a live wire, they felt like faint shocks that had your body jolting every time his wet lips met your heated skin. He chuckled deeply watching you respond to his touch.

“You alright there, sweetheart?”

Lifting your hand, you gave him a weak thumbs up, and Frank just laughed even louder in amusement at that. The sound of his laughter combined with your own blissed out post orgasm state had a lazy grin stretching over your lips. You felt his large and rough hands slipping underneath your shirt, gently caressing your bare skin and grabbing your waist while he leaned over you, kissing your lips deeply. The taste of your own sweet tang on Frank’s tongue had your head spinning, and a soft hum sounded in the back of your throat. Even though you were still recovering from your first ever oral orgasm, the feeling of Frank’s hard cock straining against his jeans and rubbing against your inner thigh reignited your greed.

Brushing your hand slowly down his chest, you palmed him firmly through his jeans, and Frank let out a grunt while pushing himself further against your hand. He broke the kiss momentarily to nuzzle his large nose against your throat.

“If ya need a minute-”

“No. Now.”

While you unfastened his belt in record time, Frank placed his hands on the table on either side of your head and pulled back to look down at you with a soft chuckle at your impatience. He lightly cocked his head to the side, his brown eyes darkened with lust as they roamed over you shamelessly. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and a crooked smirk caressed his mouth.

“Anybody ever tell you what an impatient lil thing you are?”

A smirk of your own tugged across your lips while you slipped your hand into his jeans, stroking his thick cock through his briefs, earning a quiet grunt from Frank.

“Apart from you every day since we met? Maybe a few other people. Is my lack of patience really what you wanna talk about right now, big guy?”

The sultry tone of your voice did not go unnoticed by Frank, and in fact, it only made his cock swell even more in your welcoming hand. He slowly moved his hips back and forth as you teasingly stroked him and leaned down closer towards you, nuzzling his nose along your throat before whispering huskily into your ear.

“Got somethin’ better in mind.”

By the time Frank had carried you down the hall to the master bedroom, the two of you had left a trail of forgotten items of clothing strewn like breadcrumbs along the path from the kitchen. He let you push him back against the mattress and grabbed your hips to pull you on top of him, his lips moving in sync with your own, but when you felt the swollen head of his cock bump against your clit, you suddenly pressed your palms firmly against his chest and pulled back while breaking the kiss.

“Wait.”

Frank immediately paused, loosening his grip on your hips, his lust clouded eyes clearing a bit while searching your own and wandering over your figure for the source of the problem.

“What? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

The concern in his rough timbre combined with the worry in his soft brown eyes made your heart melt. A gentle smile covered your lips while you reached out to delicately hold his strong jaw in your hands, and you leaned in to kiss his lips softly.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t think it’s fair you get to have all the fun.”

Frank’s apprehension morphed into confusion, and a few creases nestled between his thick brows.

“Huh?”

Letting out a soft laugh at how adorable he looked when he was confused, you decided to explain with actions instead of words. When you moved backwards off his lap to settle between his legs, Frank raised himself up on his elbows, following you with his eyes as he watched you intently.

“What are you-holy shit.”

Frank’s jaw went slack the second you leaned in and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around it once before beginning to take a few inches into your mouth. Placing one of your hands on his left hip, you teasingly moved your lips up his length until he was out of your mouth with a satisfying pop. Pursing your lips, you let a string of glistening saliva slowly drop onto his tip and used your free hand to spread it down the rest of his thick cock for lubrication, and after wrapping your fingers around his girth, you began to twist your wrist up and down slowly.

You could feel how tense he was through your hold on his hip. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you noticed that he was staring directly at you, completely mesmerized, and was gripping onto the sheets so tightly you thought he might rip them. Moving your hand from his hip, you reached out to caress his hand, and he slowly loosened his grip, his knuckles no longer stark white. His plush lips were parted, and he was breathing hard, his thick brows knit in complete focus. You allowed him to slip out of your mouth for just a moment to smile softly up at Frank.

“Just relax.”

The sweet sound of your voice seemed to reach his ears, and after a few more moments of hesitation, Frank finally laid back against the mattress and let his head rest on the pillows. He moved the hand that was underneath yours to grab your wrist, turning your hand over so he could slot his fingers between yours to hold it. His other hand slowly came over to card his fingers through your hair before cradling the back of your head. Giving his hand that you were holding a light squeeze, you continued to hold eye contact with Frank while slowly sucking him off, using your hand that was around his base to work over what wouldn’t fit in your mouth.

The sound of his quiet grunts and low moans sent a thrill through you, and you wanted to know just how vocal he could get. Letting go of his hand, you placed both of your palms firmly on his hips and relaxed your jaw completely, taking his entire cock into your mouth until his tip hit the back of your throat. A guttural groan ripped from the depth of his chest and his lower abdomen instantly tensed up as he gripped onto your hair.

“Goddamn-fuck…fuck, sweetheart. Do…do that again. Please…please baby, do it again.”

Taking in a deep inhale through your nose, you prepared yourself to deepthroat Frank’s thick cock again, and this time you held him there until your eyes started to water. He let out a louder moan of your name, and that caused the throbbing between your thighs to evolve from dull to downright unbearable. You thought about sneaking your hand downwards to get a little relief, but Frank had been so unselfish when he ate you out, only focused on your pleasure, and he deserved that same treatment.

All of a sudden, Frank roughly tugged at your hair, and that made you moan around his cock. You heard him let out a quiet fuck under his breath in response. He gave your hair another tug to get your attention, and his cock slipped from your lips as you licked them and tried to catch your breath while staring at him, noticing that he had sat up.

“C’mere.”

He didn’t give you a chance to protest before he grabbed your throat and pulled you in close to kiss you fervently. Frank’s large and rough hands grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap again, and you let out a soft whine against his lips when the head of his cock rubbed against your sensitive clit.

“Frank, I didn’t get to finish-”

“As much as I’d love to come down that pretty throat, I need ya baby. Need ya now.”

Grabbing the base of his cock, Frank positioned himself perfectly with your entrance and pulled you down slowly, letting you feel every single inch of him. Your mouth hung open at the sensation, and your body instantly tensed up. You thought Frank had been deep the other night, but he was reaching an even greater depth inside of you right now if that was possible. There was a slight burn as your walls stretched to accommodate his size, but your brain barely even registered it, because Frank was slipping his tongue into your mouth and kissing you sensually as if he wanted to steal the very essence of life from your lungs.

Once he was fully nestled deep inside of you, a high pitched cry left your mouth, and he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly.

“Shh…s’alright. Just relax for me, sweetheart.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you clung to Frank as he wrapped both of his strong arms around your waist and held you tightly against his chest. Both of you sat there for a moment, your foreheads pressed together as you panted. He rubbed his large calloused hand up and down your spine soothingly, his teeth grazing along your ear lobe and biting down gently to distract you from any discomfort. Slowly, the tension in your body melted, and you gave an experimental roll of your hips that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“That’s it…attagirl. Take your time, sweetheart. M’right here. I got you.”

This felt right. It felt…perfect. Those three little words almost slipped out right there. Grabbing onto the back of his neck, you pulled Frank in for a passionate kiss, trying to pour every ounce of emotion you felt into it. He groaned quietly against your lips when your nails lightly scratched at the back of his head where his hair was shaved closely to his scalp. Moving your hips in slow circles, you grinded down onto Frank’s cock, and he flexed his hips upwards to match your rhythm. The other night by the fireplace had been the best experience of your life, but this…this was something you couldn’t put into words.

Placing your palms against Frank’s firm chest, you pressed lightly and he followed your silent instructions, allowing you to push him onto his back. His large hands gripped firmly onto your hips as he gazed up at you, and you kept your palms flat on his chest while slowly riding his cock. Neither of you could tear your eyes away from each other. The feeling of his warm hands leisurely moving up your bare skin made you shiver, and a soft gasp left your lips when he groped your breasts and squeezed gently. The calloused pad of his thumb gingerly brushing over your peaked nipple had you arching your back, pressing your chest further into his eager hands.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

The sincerity in Frank’s vulnerable whisper nearly brought tears to your eyes. He wasn’t saying it because he thought it was what you wanted to hear, he was saying it because he felt it, and he was making you feel it too. The way he was staring up at you like you were the only thing that mattered had your heart swelling inside your ribcage like a balloon about to burst. It had been a long time since you mattered to someone, and you felt lucky it was Frank. The look in his eyes was almost too much to handle.

Letting your head fall back, you closed your eyes for a moment as you writhed on top of Frank, getting completely lost in how good it felt to be connected to him in such a raw and intimate way. One of his hands traveled up from your breast towards your throat, and he wrapped his fingers tightly around it almost entirely, forcing you to face him again. He pulled you down over him so that your forehead was pressed to his, and the two of you stared deeply into each other's eyes.

“Frank-”

“I wanna see you. Wanna see those pretty eyes when you come for me. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Being this close to him, you noticed for the first time that there were scattered flecks of honey in his deep brown eyes. They looked so warm and inviting, like two melted pools of chocolate you wanted to drown in. The eyes that could say so much with a single look. You thought you could see it…that flicker that he felt it too. You wanted to tell him so fucking badly, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment, and the way he was hitting that spongy spot inside of you that could cause supernovas to appear behind your eyelids was making it hard for you to speak at all.

Holding his face in your hand, your eyes drifted back and forth between his own as you stared down at him in complete devotion, your lips parted as you nodded your head frantically while short and breathy moans escaped you. Frank’s eyes were focused solely on you, one of his hands holding the back of your head while his other remained around your throat. It was getting harder and harder for you to keep your eyes open, but you didn’t want to miss a single second of this moment.

It was also getting harder and harder to not voice the sentiment that was overflowing from your ribcage.

“Frank…I…I-”

Frank cut off your words by capturing your lips in a heated kiss. The softness of his lips against yours, the heat of his bare skin pressed to your own, his thick fingers wrapped around your neck and tangled in your hair, his pubic bone rubbing just right against your clit…it was all too much. Breaking the kiss, you buried your face into the crook of his neck and let out a sharp cry of his name. Your nails raked harshly down his chest when your climax finally peaked, and a white hot cloud of hedonistic desire blinded your vision.

Your entire body seized up, and you could faintly hear Frank whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he gripped your hips and repeatedly thrust up into you, fucking you through your orgasm while barreling towards his own. The sensation of that alone was enough to nearly send you free falling into another. The intensity of your orgasm had rendered you an incoherent and moaning mess. Frank dug his fingers roughly into the flesh of your hips and came with a deep grunt that nearly sounded like a growl, letting out a loud groan of your name.

The room felt like a sauna. Your face felt overheated, and your hair was stuck to your cheeks and the back of your neck with sweat. Frank had his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, hugging you against his chest. The feeling of his strong heartbeat thundering against your own chest kept you anchored to the moment while your body trembled with aftershocks. You couldn’t move, and you didn’t want to.

As soon as Frank made a move to sit up and pull out of you, a desperate and high pitched whine of protest fell from your lips while you gripped onto his shoulder and dug your nails into the muscle.

“No no no no no, please…don’t move.”

Frank instantly stilled, bringing one of his hands up to brush the sweaty hair stuck to your forehead and neck away. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead and gave your body a gentle squeeze in his strong arms.

“Okay, we don’t gotta move yet.”

Letting out a soft sigh of relief, you buried your face further into Frank’s neck, letting the comforting scent of his cologne calm you. He gently carded his thick fingers through your hair and kept holding you tightly to his chest while resting his head against your own.

“I just wanna stay like this for a while.”

“We can stay like this as long as you want, sweetheart.”

When you started to regain your senses, you started to wonder just how true that statement was.

How long could you and Frank stay like this before reality came knocking?

Your home wouldn’t always be a crime scene. Eventually the two of you would have to go back to work. Now that everything had changed between the two of you, what would a new normal look like? Frank’s job required him to be with someone constantly. What happens when he gets assigned to someone else? What if it’s another woman? Even though Frank was broody and unapproachable initially, you had still found him attractive, and all the time you spent together over the past few months led you right here to this moment.

What if that happened with someone else? What if the next woman he was assigned to found him just as attractive? What if she wanted him? You and Frank hadn’t really established what this was between the two of you. Were you together? Did he want to be together? Would he still want to be together if the next woman was prettier and less stubborn and actually-

“Quit it.”

The sound of his deep voice breaking through the silence interrupted your spiraling.

“What?”

“Whatever you’re overthinkin’ right now, let it go.”

Removing your face from the crook of Frank’s neck, you pulled back slightly to peer down at him in pure curiosity.

“How do you even-”

“I can practically hear the gears turnin’ in your head, sweetheart. You keep thinkin’ so hard, smoke’s gonna start comin’ out of your ears.”

Giving him a pointed look expressing you weren’t amused, he let out a quiet chuckle and gently brushed the calloused pad of his thumb along your cheekbone.

“C’mon, you ain’t got nothin’ to worry ‘bout right now. Just relax, yeah?”

Letting out a soft sigh, you nodded and laid your head back against Frank’s shoulder, nuzzling your nose against his neck as he hugged onto you tightly. For a while, you two laid there wrapped up in one another, and you were able to let some of your anxieties go. The afterglow of your shared euphoria was peaceful, and you could’ve even fallen asleep at that moment, but something Frank said earlier suddenly popped back into your head.

“Hey Frank?”

“Hm?”

“Do you really know a blind guy that has a good aim with guns?”

Frank let out a quiet snicker at your question.

“He don’t use guns. He’s too…Catholic.”

That did nothing to answer your question and only fueled you with more inquiries.

“But…you said he could hit targets better than I could.”

Frank simply grunted in response. You stayed silent waiting for further explanation, but when one didn’t come, you continued your questions.

“How?”

“Hell if I know.”

Sitting up a little bit again, you stared down at Frank in complete puzzlement.

“But…he’s blind. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No it don’t.”

“So…he’s-”

“An asshole. Go to sleep.”

Letting out a soft laugh, your eyes widened slightly as you gently smacked his chest.

“Frank!”

“What? Cause he’s blind he can’t be an asshole?”

“Well…no. But…how does he do it?”

“You’ll have to ask ‘em yourself.”

“I thought Billy was your only friend.”

Frank pulled a look of faux offense at that, his thick brows knit as he let out a puff of air through his lips.

“Ouch. I got other friends, smartass. And I never said he was one. He’s more of a pain in my ass.”

Frank gently pinched your ass which made you squeal before erupting into a fit of laughter.

“Hey!”

A huge grin split across your lips as he suddenly flipped you both over, managing to keep himself nestled inside of you while he pinned you beneath his large body. As he leaned in to kiss your lips, you brought your index finger up and pressed it against his mouth.

“I’m not done. I have more questions.”

“Course you do.”

“I wanna know who this mystery blind man is with good aim, and your other friends that you suddenly have that you’ve kept from me. While you’re at it, is there anything else you’re hiding, Castle?”

While your question was intended to be teasing, a dark look flashed across Frank’s eyes, and it made your breath hitch in your throat. He stared down at you silently for a moment, and it made you wonder just how much more there was to Frank that you hadn’t uncovered yet. As soon as you removed your finger from his lips, Frank leaned in closer, caging you in with his large hands on either side of your head. As he loomed over you, he slowly thrust his hips against your own, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. His breath was warm against your lips while he nuzzled his large nose along your own, his rough voice coming out in a husky whisper.

“Think I liked you better when the only thing you could say was my name, sweetheart.”

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