#beardthal

[darlingshane]

i love.

[chelseasdagger]

Behind the Red in My Eyes

Mikey Berzatto x Reader

Summary: Mikey comes home, yet again, exhausted after a long shift at The Beef. You offer him some encouraging words and his favorite touch to unwind.

Warnings: cursing

Author's Note: This is my first entry for @bernthirst-events's Beardthal Bash! I had this idea for a while, but I ended up writing way more plot than was needed oops! I still hope there was enough mention of the beard to count!

Word Count: 2.9k+

Mikey Berzatto took pride in his work. It may not be the most glamorous job, but he put countless hours into the family restaurant that he tries so hard to keep afloat. It’s one of your favorite things about him—how much heart he puts into everything he does.

The only downside is how often you’re stuck missing him while the apartment grows too quiet as the hours pass. You have the schedule of The Beef’s hours ingrained in your mind, tacking on the extra time it takes to close up at night. But all the counting does little to stop the frequent checking of the clock on your phone’s lockscreen.

You were thankful when he worked up the deal with Carmy to split some of the necessary management time at the sandwich shop—if you could call it management time. It would be more truthful to call it “babysitting”, taking into consideration the hotheadedness of the staff. And let's be honest, leaving the restaurant in the hands of Richie Jerimovich? Absolutely not.

But, as much as the Berzatto brothers meant well, this plan didn’t last. It worked for a while, Mikey taking the mornings and helping with opening the store so that around the time that the menu changed, Carmy could come in and work until close. They figured it would be the best way to not overwork themselves but still put a healthy amount of time into their family business.

And then one day it was too busy for Mike to come home. Since then, there hasn’t really been a fix to the original plan. You miss him a lot and definitely wish you could see him more, but you feel so much pride swelling in your chest each time you think of how hard he works for that little brick building. No amount of missing him could outweigh that feeling—or how your face feels as if it might split in two when you sneak into the restaurant and see how happy he is to be there.

Nine times out of ten, you walk in and see his smile brightening the whole room as his infectious laugh fills the air. His eyes would be squinted into thin lines as his head falls back and he clutches his chest for a breath. He always cared about the people and wanted everyone to feel welcome there no matter their background or history. You loved seeing him like this and kept these memories at the front of your mind whenever it got harder to be patient on the long nights alone.

Your phone is in your hand before you can even register it. A habit I need to break, you remind yourself, but your screen shows the time anyway. Quarter after midnight. You place the phone down on the coffee table with a sigh, exchanging it for the book that your friend swore you had to read.

Tucking your finger between the pages and your bookmark, you open up the book and scan the printed words until you can jog your memory of the last thing you read. Once you find your place, you tuck your legs to your chest and lazily tug the blanket down from the back of the couch to cover yourself. It doesn’t take long before your surroundings begin to fade and the words paint a picture in your mind.

You look up from your book at the sound of keys jingling inside the metal deadbolt on your apartment door. What time is it? A second later the door is opening and there stands Mikey. He sighs as he holds onto the doorframe before pressing the toes of one foot to the heel of the other, taking his shoes off before bending down to place them beside the entrance.

When he stands back up you finally get a good look at him in the lamplight. His shoulders are slouched, his whole body a portrait of exhaustion. He’s rubbing his knuckles sleepily at his eyes, setting the keys down on the small table beside him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you call to him as his footsteps gently sound out on the wooden floors. He finally glances over to the couch once he notices you and the smile that stretches over his face is tired, yet genuine.

“Hey, baby,” he whispers back to you. His voice is hoarse, mostly likely due to all the yelling in the chaotic kitchen he’s spent the whole day inside of. It’s almost as if his words are caught in his chest, sounding out deep and warm when he speaks. He makes his way to the couch, leaning over the back of it, and placing a quick peck of his lips on your forehead.

As soon as you feel it, he’s gone, making his way to the kitchen in the next room over. You can immediately tell something is off; Mikey gets quiet after a long day of being the loudest guy in the room, but he’s not usually reserved in his affection towards you.

The blanket you were wrapped up in slowly slides down your chest and onto your lap as you sit up against the arm of the couch. You question whether you should push it, but something in your gut wouldn’t leave it be.

“Mikey? You okay?” you call out towards the kitchen. The sound of him closing cupboards echoes through the space next. He makes his way to the fridge, opening it before leaning inside and scanning the leftovers from the meals you make while he’s out.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he responds monotonously, pulling away with a glass container in his hand. The slightly blue lighting shines across his face, illuminating his features in a cold hue. It looks almost intentional, as if to reflect his mood. “What is this?”

“Baked ziti from last night. I’m here for you, Bear, you know that right?” You don’t miss a beat, purposefully choosing not to fall for his distraction of mentioning the food. You watch as he pauses for a moment, setting the food down on the counter and closing the fridge before walking back towards you. You never want to push him or demand he open up to you, but you also want him to know he can lean on you if need be.

A heavy sigh leaves him as he sinks down onto the cushion beside you, one arm resting along the length of the couch, the other propping his head up in his palm. You can see all the evidence of his tiring day of work now that he’s closer to you: the dark grease stains along the bottom of his blue shirt, the marks under his eyes indicating he didn’t sleep enough, the new bandage wrapped around his thumb. All signs point to a draining, most likely not rewarding, day.

Gently reaching out for his wrist, you pull his larger hand into yours. “What happened here?” He moves with you, turning his palm face up as you let your index finger gently trace over his skin. The bandage is uneven, and you can see the faint maroon marking under the tan color.

“Was a uh,” he begins, sighing as he rubs at his eyes with the knuckles of his free hand. “Was an accident. Cousin called me while I was choppin’ onions and, well,” he gestures to his injured thumb. You feel your features change as he speaks, the words painting a clear picture in your head of him in the kitchen as he gets hurt.

“I’m so sorry, Mikey,” you whisper in the small space between the two of you. Your own fingers drag down the inside of his arm, trailing over scars from accidental fryer burns and playing rough outside with Carmy when he was younger. All the little markings on his skin have little stories behind them, and you cherish the boisterous laughter that comes from him when he tells the tales.

“S’alright, baby, happens all the time,” he attempts to reassure you. The tone surrounding his words falls flat and leaves you with the same weariness in your mind. Glancing up at his face, you see the tired lines under his eyes and the way he stares out at nothing while his mind wanders.

Curling your fingers around him tighter, you bring his hand up to your face and place a gentle kiss right under the bandage. It takes him another moment to react due to the other thoughts trailing around in his mind. When he finally glances over, his eyes are fixed on your lips pressing against him, the small peck sending a wave of warmth through him. You continue staring up at him from under your eyelashes; the sigh that leaves him makes his chest deflate when his gaze locks with yours.

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly, a sad smile on his face.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” you ask, wanting to try and improve his mood. He twists his back and adjusts himself against the couch.

“Nah, nah, baby, it’s okay. It’ll heal up,” he answers dismissively. It’s clear he didn’t pick up on the other meaning of your question, so you try wording it another way.

“No I didn’t mean the cut, Mikey.” His eyebrows pull together, confusion painted all over his features. “I can see how tired you are,” you continue, watching him sigh again and prepare to defend himself. “I just want to take some of the weight off your shoulders, is all. I’m not gonna say to cut your hours back, I know you can’t do that but…” you find your words trailing off when he reaches up to drag his palm down his face.

“You have to at least take care of yourself,” you whisper the final words as his hand drops to his lap. There’s a silence that lingers over the room and you’re worried you’ve overstepped in suggesting the restaurant being the source of a good portion of his stress.

“You’re right,” he speaks up, and you feel the tension leaving your body almost instantly. “You’re right, I just don’t… think about it?” his tone rises at the end, twisting the sentence into more of a question. His eyes find yours again and you give him a slight nod, wordlessly encouraging him to continue.

“It just… It’s always been the restaurant first, y’know? Like if that goes under then I’ve got nothing left. And then all the things everybody says about me are true.” He finishes the last sentences with an exasperated breath. Your heart sinks at his words, especially after spending one too many family dinners at his mother’s house and hearing how they treat him and his impulsivity. You want to defend him, but choose not to interrupt his venting.

“And nobody in my family knows how to slow down. I mean, shit, look at Carm,” he chuckles dryly as he shakes his head. “Nearly fuckin’ killed himself out in New York. Mom doesn’t have her head screwed on straight, doesn’t know what’s going on half the fuckin’ time. It just—.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, his head hanging low in his hands.

There’s a quick sniffle before he’s raking his fingers through his hair roughly. He sits up and stares down at his fingers, anxiously picking at the skin around his nails. Every fiber in your being screams to reach out to him and comfort him, and this time you listen to your instincts.

“Mikey,” you start, gently placing your hand on his forearm and pulling him towards you. His body falls and you feel his weight instantly pressing into your shoulder. Slumped against you like this, his body heat instantly warms up your side and you melt in turn.

“I know you might not know how to take those breaks, but we can work through it together,” you attempt to calm him. “It might not be easy at first but we can just take it one day at a time, yeah?” You glance down at your shoulder to see him staring up at you with half closed eyes. He slowly blinks before finally registering that you asked him a question.

“I like that plan,” he says eventually. His lips part as a yawn takes over and you smile as his eyes scrunch up while his jaw drops open.

“Oh, poor baby…” you chuckle under your breath. His face rests back in his natural position, but his eyes remain shut. He looks so peaceful like this that it makes your heart warm. Admittedly, it’s been too long since you’ve seen him truly relaxed like this. The last few times must’ve been when you were waking up in the night and happened to catch him asleep.

Stolen glances in the middle of the night aren’t enough, you decide. Adjusting your body on the couch, you angle yourself so your back is against the arm of the couch and your legs extend down the length of the cushions. You pull his body between your legs, guiding his head down to rest on your chest.

“You know none of that shit they say is true… right?” you ask softly as you let your fingers trail down his neck and smoothe down his back. He may not look like it, but Mike is one of the biggest suckers for physical touch—specifically cuddling.

He only hums in response, but still you continue. “The restaurant wasn’t a bad idea, baby. I think it’s sweet you kept something in the family name.” You drag your nails down his broad back softly and feel him sigh deeply, the leftover tension finally leaving his body.

“‘M pretty sure you’re the only one who thinks that,” he mumbles out, not bothering to lift his head from you. 

“I swear to god the next time Uncle Lee, or whoever, opens their god damn mouth I’m gonna be the one to throw a fork.” The next thing you feel is Mikey’s laughter shaking you, his rumbly chuckle sounding out in the quiet room. You let yourself smile at the pleasant sound, pressing your fingers into the junction where his neck meets his shoulders. With each push of your fingertips, you try to get rid of those pesky knots of stress that his body is unconsciously clinging on to.

“Seriously though,” you start again, wrapping your arms around his head this time, “we’ll figure it all out. I just want you to rest for now.” You tilt your head down and press your lips to the top of his head. You shut your eyes and try to focus on this moment: the feeling of his body weighing on your torso, his hot breath gently fanning over your arm, his scent relaxing you with each inhale you take.

You let your fingers wander, scratching your nails around his scalp under his hair. There’s a raspy groan that leaves him next and the sound has butterflies​​ suddenly coming to life in your stomach. A giggle slips out from between your lips as you ask, “Feels that good?”

Something bumps the side of your palm as you continue to play with his hair and you reach for it blindly. You try your hardest not to let disappointment wash over you as you stare at the cigarette between your fingers.

“I thought we weren’t doing this anymore, Mikey bear,” you speak in a whisper. A little less than a week ago, Mike decided to stop smoking and using drugs. You knew he could do it but you also knew how big of a step he was taking, so you tried giving as much support as you could offer. He tilts his head up at your voice and looks at you with confusedly. He glances down at the tightly rolled paper in your grasp before shaking his head gently.

“That’s from this morning, baby. Cousin offered it when he clocked in and I didn’t want to say no and have him asking a bunch of fuckin’ questions,” he explains exasperatedly. “But no, I-I didn’t smoke today.” His words are bathed with sincerity even through the tired rasp of his tone.

Your face lights up instantly, pride swelling in your chest once you realize that he kept his promise to you—his promise to himself. You can’t even imagine how difficult it must be to cut everything out like that, but you know he’s going to feel better in the long run because of it.

“I’m so, so proud of you,” you whisper as your fingers brush down his sideburns and begin to smooth out over his beard. “You’re doing so much and I see it.” You worry your words fall flat, but you also know how sometimes all you want is for someone to say that they notice the work you’re doing.

“Thank you.” You believe for a second that you imagined the words due to the barely audible breath that surrounds them. He reaches up to hold your wrist before turning his head to kiss the back of your hand. Sweet moments like this make your heart melt for him and how gentle he can be. There’s not much else to say so the both of you sit in silence, comforted by the presence of the other.

Your nails drag along the short hair that decorates his jaw and you watch his eyes flutter close for the last time. As you wrap your other arm across his chest and pull him closer, you smile at the sound of his soft snores filling the air. The ends of his facial hair tickle your fingertips but you continue gently scratching, wanting to give him a comforting touch to fall into an even deeper sleep.

“Rest up, baby boy,” you whisper as you kiss his head one final time.

[bernthirst-events]

Compilation Post

ART

– Jon's Portrait by @lucy-sky

FANFIC

– Lost & Found (Frank Castle) by @itwasthereaminuteago – Behind the red in my eyes (Michael Berzatto) by @chelseasdagger – Growing Older (Frank Castle) by @chellestrash – Mountain Lion (Matt Rayburn) by @darlingshane – The starts we lay under (Sam Rossi) by @chellestrash – Naked (Frank Castle) by @itwasthereaminuteago – Habits to break (Frank Castle) by @chellestrash – You tell me you hate me [Yeah, I bet you do] (Shane Walsh) by @anna-hawk – Work-life balance (Matt Rayburn) by @chellestrash – Off Duty (Ethan Sawyer) by @chellestrash – First, Last & Only (Frank Castle) by @darlingshane – Unexpected Snow (Frank Castle) by @joybabyjune

GIFSETS

– JB's Bearded Characters by @darlingshane – Jon stroking his beard by @darlingshane – Frank Castle by @kwistowee – Matt Rayburn by @darlingshane – Matt & Natalie by @darlingshane – Frank Castle (#bookworm) by @kwistowee – Frank Castle (#thicc) by @kwistowee – Frank Castle by @chelseasdagger – Griff by @darlingshane – The Escape by @darlingshane – The Escape by @kwistowee – R.I.P Hallucination Shane by @kwistowee – The Escape (II) by @darlingshane – Sweet Virginia by @lucy-sky – Pilgrimage by @kwistowee – Hipster Frank by @lucy-sky – Baby Driver by @kwistowee – Frank Castle by @darlingshane

VIDEOS

– The Mute by @lucy-sky – Big Guns by @darlingshane

✨ Thank you so much for participating! See you in the next one!! ✨

[anna-hawk]

Petition to get Jon Bernthal to grow out his curls and beard again!

[kwistowee]

#thicc Beardthal Bash 2023 THE PUNISHER | 1.01

[itwasthereaminuteago]

Gaaaah this was just the exact right amount of sweet and silly I loved it!

Work-life balance

Matt Rayburn x Reader

Summary: Matt needs some help with the beard care he's trying out, luckily for him, you're right there.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: None, it's just short and sweet.

A/N: I'm posting this at 2 a.m. my time, this was also the first fic i wrote for the @bernthirst-events BeardthalBash after a long time of not writing so...if you feel like this one is a bit rusty...that's probably because it is.

Laying on Matt’s bed, you stare at the ceiling of the trailer for a moment, trying to figure out some creative ways to pass the time as you wait for him to join you. With the limited space of the narrow bathroom at his place, both you and your boyfriend quickly realized that sharing your nighttime routines wasn't really an option most of the time. You'd find ways around it, of course, with the bathroom door staying open most of the time, one person in and the other right outside, you managed to make the space feel shared.

You sigh, stretching on top of the covers. The soft double bed mattress dips slightly under the weight of your body. With the quiet sound of the running water coming from the other side of the trailer, a white noise of sorts, you begin to feel your eyelids getting heavier. A quiet grunt slips past your lips and you turn to lay on your side. Now facing the bathroom, the heavily streamed mirror is visible from your position through the slightly cracked open bathroom door.

A soft smile pulls at the corner of your lips when you watch Matt for some reason frown at his reflection, and you feel the need to be close to him, to feel his body once again. It's a familiar feeling, one that rarely leaves you these days. You don't mind it, and you know he doesn’t either, he knows how to show it.

After slipping out of bed, you make your way over to the bathroom and knock on the door before stepping inside.

“Hey honey!”

Matt grins, acting like he just saw you now for the first time, despite the fact you two spent almost the whole day together already. You smile back almost immediately before he leans down to peck at your lips softly. 

"Hi, Matty."

You answer before something catches your attention.

"What's that?” 

You ask, pointing at a small glass bottle in the middle of the counter right by the sink.

“Oh umm…”

Matt pauses, frowning at the small object before turning his head back to look at you.

“Just beard oil?”

He shrugs, a quick and simple explanation that only really raises more questions for you.

“Since when do you-”

You reach your hand out to pick up the bottle and bring it closer to your eyes, trying to decipher the ingredients as he attempts to explain how exactly this found its way into his bathroom.

“Well…listen, some guy at the store talked me into buying it. There was a stand and samples and flyers and I know you keep saying you like the beard, so I...think I panicked when he started asking questions...”

You chuckle at the short story and he takes the oil back from you.

“He said it’ll make it look nice? Healthy and shit.”

“Really? So you got it because of that...aaaand because I said I like the beard?"

You ask, brushing your finger down his cheek, feeling the hairs prickle softly at your skin. 

He shrugs, not really sure if you think it’s stupid or not, and you feel your heart melting at the gesture.

“And I panicked.”

He explains.

“Oh, yes, of course.”

You tease, smiling as he attempts to think of a response.

“Okay, so how are we doing it?”

You ask, glancing around his face for a moment before grabbing the beard oil to check the label one more time, successfully distracting him from the tease.

“We?”

Matt asks just to make sure and you nod enthusiastically.

“Yeah! Or did you want me to-”

You point your thumb back over your shoulder, indicating that you could leave him to it if that's what he wanted.

“Oh, OH!”

He denies quickly, shaking his head. His eyes open wide, almost as if he's afraid you'll actually leave.

“No, no, don't go! 'Be fair I don't…really know how to-”

“Oh, I do!”

You unscrew the cap with a small pipette and smile as you lift it up to his face.

“See? It's easy, I've seen guys do it before.”

"You sure honey?”

“Matt, you know how much my skin care takes, I can handle beard oil.”

He scoffs quietly, turning his face away only to look back at your face right away, smiling so hard he squints his eyes and bites down on his lower lip.

“Aright, honey, if you say so.”

“If I mess it up, we'll just shave it.”

You joke, squeezing past to stand between him and the small bathroom counter and catch his frightened stare in the reflection.

“Joking!”

You turn back to face him, jumping onto the counter before you reach out to grab at his hips and pull him closer.

“Oh, okay.”

He stands between your legs now, hand rubbing softly at the exposed skin on your thigh, watching as you get everything ready. Lifting your chin with his finger, he makes you face him again. His eyes fix on yours for a moment before he glances down at your mouth, moving in closer to push his lips against yours softly. Then again, and again, and one more time.

You hum into the kiss when he tilts your head to the side and brushes his tongue against your lips, deepening the kiss. You feel the small, familiar bolts of pleasure travel down and right back up your body, and it takes you a good while to finally react. Pushing your hand against his chest, you make him step away, breaking the kiss before wiping your lips with the back of your palm.

“Okay, sir? That's inappropriate.”

He frowns, confused, but still smiles at your words.

“You're at the barber? Hello?”

He snorts, shaking his head softly before squinting again.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So you'll be helping me tonight?”

“That's my job!”

You reassure him, playing your part, finally ready to actually apply the oil.

“So...first time?”

You attempt some hairdresser small talk as you drip a couple of drops onto your boyfriend��s beard. Rubbing it in with your fingers, you glance up, letting him know you're expecting a response.

“Oh, oh yeah, yes. Never done this before.”

He plays along and you continue, amused that you managed to get him to do this.

“Really? I don't know, sir, your beard looks very well maintained.”

“Shit, really?”

You nod, and watch the way his lips curl up into that sweet smile you love so much.

“Yes, sir.”

You nod again, slowly massaging the oil throughout the length of his beard, mustache and at the sides of his face, almost up to his actually hair. Shutting them close after a moment, Matt lets his eyes rests before he leans into your soothing touch, humming quietly at the pleasant feeling. The steam from his hot shower, the smell of the supplement you're using on his hair, the sweet sensation of your touch, he loves it all.

“You got a girlfriend, Sir?”

You continue with the stupid little roleplay thing, making him chuckle.

“Mhm.”

His chest rumbles with the deep sound.

“She pretty?”

His eyes flutter open and scan your face from your forehead, your eyes down your nose and over your lips, taking in the details. He allows the moment to last longer, holding back his answer for a couple seconds.

“The prettiest.”

He mumbles the answer out, and he swears he could see your eyes sparkle when you took in his words. His body is so close to yours now, his arm wrapped around your back, holding you close. Closer than before, obviously closer than necessary. 

“Well.”

You start after finding your way out of those gentle, brown eyes.

“I think she's lucky to have you.”

“You think?”

You hum quietly, nodding gently with a soft blink as you brush your fingers over the side of his face, the sideburns scratching over the tips of your fingers.

“I know.”

You whisper softly, a small smile on your face as you brush over his cheek with your thumb, eyes fixed on his. You watch as he parts his lips, breathing in quietly as the cogs in his head turn slowly.

“Um…honey? Can…could we stop the replay thing now, I…really need to kiss you and I don’t wanna do it if you’re not…you?”

Nodding your head quickly, you grin from ear to ear, pulling him closer to you.

“Yeah, yeah okay I’m back now.”

“Good.”

He rests his big hands on top of your hips, brushing over your skin with his thumbs.

“Missed you.”

[kdogreads]

Bad Girlfriend

Frank Castle x f!reader

TW: smutty smut (minors DNI pls), alcohol consumption, slightly jealous!Frank, pinch of degradation/praise, public sex🤭

A/n: This song popped up on my shuffle and all I could think about was Frankie being proud of his badass girl 🥵😍 Happy Beardthal Bash, fellow delulus 😏

The two of you often found yourselves here: getting hammered in your favorite little dive bar in Hell’s Kitchen. It was close enough to walk home, so this was basically your excuse to get shit-faced then go home and eat whatever alcohol-fueled concoctions you could come up with and each other.

Tonight started out just like every other night at the hole in the wall you’d come to love. Frankie sat on a barstool behind you while you swayed and danced to the music, stopping every so often to wrap your arms around his neck and plant a sloppy kiss on his lips.

“Have I told you how good you look tonight, baby?” Frank whispered into your ear while he held you close.

“Only about a hundred times, Frankie,” You giggled and pulled away to give him a flirtatious smirk.

“My girl just looks so,” he paused and looked you up and down before sliding one hand down your back, reaching your curved bottom and giving it a nice squeeze, “good.”

You squealed his name at the feeling and swatted his hand away, trying to acted embarrassed and not totally turned on. He just smiled that heartbreaking smile and pecked you on the lips before you turned around to dance between his legs some more.

A few minutes passed before you felt a strong hand on your waist.

“Gonna hit the head. Wait here?” Frank pecked your cheek before sliding out from behind you.

You took his spot on the barstool, waiting for the bartender to come over so you could order another drink. It was as good a time as any to quickly check your phone, making sure there weren’t any fires needing put out by you or Frank. You scrolled aimlessly through your notifications, nothing popping out at you as “urgent,” so you slid it back into your purse and smiled at the barkeeper you’d come to be friendly with. He signaled you he’d be there next, so you let your body start swaying to the music again.

“Pretty girl like you really here all alone?” You hadn’t noticed that a tall, muscular beef cake-looking guy had sat down on the stool next to you until he spoke.

“Oh,” You scoffed quietly as you realized he was flirting with you, “Don’t need company to have a good time, right?”

He laughed a little too hard as the bartender slid your mixed drink in front of you.

“Put that on my tab, bro,” The man piped up as you took a sip. You tipped your glass his way in thanks. This was going to be so fun.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Frank take a seat at a barstool a few feet away from you. He had a smirk on his face as the barkeeper gave him a confused look. Frank must have muttered something about his little game as the bartender shook his head and laughed while handing him a new drink. His eyes were glued to you as you slowly slid back onto your feet, letting the music sway your hips as you listened to your admirer going on and on about his gym routine or something.

Your new friend, Justin or Jason or something like that (you chose not to remember), was still going on about his favorite protein powder when you felt a hand on your arm, “So, what do ya say we take this party to my place?”

You stopped dancing and shot a glance over to Frank. He was clearly not happy based on the way he gripped his glass so hard you thought it might shatter, but stayed in his seat as he rubbed his free hand over the back of his neck, trying desperately to keep his cool.

“I appreciate the offer, Jackson, but I have somewhere to be,” You spoke sweetly as you set your empty glass on the bar top and went to turn away.

“It’s Jordan,” He corrected and kept his hand on your arm, tightening his grip just enough for you to notice, “Come on, baby, I just wanna get to know you better.”

The pet name triggered something in you — something that had your adrenaline pumping and led you to react before you even realized.

In one swift motion, you gripped his bulky wrist and twisted his arm in towards you, threatening to pop his elbow out of place and dropping him onto his knees in an instant.

You didn’t see Frank come over to you, but when you glanced back up he was right beside you with his hand on the arm you currently had on the creep.

“Tsk,” Frank tutted as he reached up to cup your face, “Baby, you don’t want to hurt the little boy, now do you?”

You smiled and let go of the man’s arm as Frank leaned in to kiss you deeply, claiming what was his.

It was the muttering of “crazy fucking bitch” that broke Frank’s lips away from yours and lead his fist to collide with the guy’s jaw. He tumbled back into the foot rail on the bar and pressed a hand to his already-swelling cheek.

“Thanks for the drink!” You exclaimed cheerfully as Frank wrapped his strong arm around you and headed for the door. He stopped only to hand a fifty-dollar bill to his barkeeper friend with a small “sorry” and cheeky grin on his face.

——

The two of you strolled into the brisk night air as if nothing had happened. You walked in relative silence until you reached the corner of the building when Frank pulled you into the dark alleyway beside it.

You gasped as Frank slammed his lips to yours, his broad hands already wandering all over your body.

“Frankie,” You whined between kisses, “What are you doing?”

“My girl is tough as nails,” He kissed his way down your jaw to your neck, “And so fucking sexy.”

You giggled as his stubbly face tickled your clavicle, trying to keep your knees from buckling, “So you like seeing me with other guys, then?”

Your teasing did exactly as you hoped. Frank stood up straight looked down at you, a pained look under his furrowed brows, as his hands worked feverishly on unbuckling his belt. You bit your lip to hold back an excited moan from escaping your lips.

“No, baby, I don’t,” He hummed as he hiked your dress up around your waist, wasting no time dragging his thick fingers over your aching core, “Now I gotta remind you who you belong to, huh?”

Before you could come up with a snarky response, Frank slid your panties out of the way and rubbed tight circles over your throbbing clit. You settled back against the wall in a desperate attempt to stay upright. He practically growled in your ear as he boxed you in against the wall, his strong arm reaching under your knee to give him more access to your dripping center.

“That what you wanted, huh?” He slid two thick fingers into your tight hole, your nails digging into his back and eyes rolling shut, “Wanted me to fuck you out here in front of everyone like the good little whore you are?”

You gasped as he fucked his fingers into you hard and fast, his jeans growing tighter by the minute. You clawed at his toned shoulders as you already teetered on the edge. The way Frank’s thick fingers stretched you so deliciously and his thumb worked tight circles over your clit had you keening under his touch.

“Fuck, Frankie,” You panted into his shoulder, biting down to keep from crying out, “please.”

He pulled his fingers out of you with a pop and a gasp escaping your lips. Before you could even whine at the loss he had his jeans and boxers pulled down just enough to free his achingly hard cock. He lined himself up with your entrance and slowly sank in, filling you all the way to the brim before both of you let out desperate groans.

“Fuck, baby girl, you’re so fucking tight,” He growled into your ear as he hiked your other leg up off the ground, his broad body holding you up against the cool brick wall.

He slowly slid almost all the way out of your dripping cunt before slamming his hips back into yours, a high-pitched wine danced from your lips and made Frank twitch inside of you.

Frank set a hard and fast pace and he kept plowing into you, over and over, until you felt yourself approaching the edge once again.

“Frankie,” You panted, your fingers gripping onto the short hairs at the back of his neck, causing a hiss to escape Frank’s gritted teeth.

“Tha’s right,” One of his hands wrapped around your thigh to put a delicious pressure on your pulsing clit, “Cum all over daddy’s cock, baby, come on.”

You felt Frankie’s hand cradling the back of your head as your walls squeezed his cock rhythmically. Your legs shook in his grasp and your hands grabbed at every part of him you could reach as the white hotness rushed through your veins. A string of praises spilled out of Frank’s parted lips as you fell apart around him.

Good fucking girl.

So goddamn beautiful, baby, look at you.

Attagirl fuckin’ squeezin’ me like that.

Gonna fill this little pussy up; make you mine, baby girl.

All you could do was frantically buck your hips into his as your mind slowly settled back down to earth, the overstimulation already fogging your brain again.

Frankie’s cock pounding into you, the brick scratching lightly at your exposed skin, the chance of someone turning the corner and catching you two like this — it all felt too good and another high came crashing into like a fucking train before you could even recover from the first one.

Frank crashed his lips into yours to keep you both from moaning out into the wind. He couldn’t hold back anymore as your walls clenched around him again and he fucked into you even harder as he filled your cunt with hot, white ropes of his seed.

You stayed in each other’s arms for another moment, panting and trying to catch your breath. Frank’s forehead rested against yours as he let out a shaky laugh.

“Holy shit, sweetheart,” He kissed the tip of your nose and carefully slid out of you, your feet slowly sliding back down to the ground.

“Holy shit yourself, Frankie,” You gripped his shoulder reflexively to keep from falling on your face, even though Frank’s strong hands held you firmly in place in front of him.

He laughed a fuller laugh this time, smoothing your dress back down over your shaky thighs. He pulled you into his chest and planted a kiss to the top of your head.

“Let’s get you home, you fuckin’ tease,” Frank winked at you before sliding his arm around your waist.

You let out a gasp of feigned shock, your hand coming to rest over your open mouth.

“Francis! I would never,” You couldn’t even finish your thought without a giggle bubbling up from your chest.

Frank just grumbled a sarcastic Mmmhhm and pulled you closer to him before heading off in the direction of home.

It was going to be a long night and you couldn’t be more excited about it.

[witnessmyart]

Happy Birthday, dear Jon!

It's also another entry for Beardthal Bash :)

Special thanks to @darlingshane for the refernce pic <3

[sarma]

Ayy we have Sweet Virginia on the Plex and nobODY TOLD ME so tomorrows gonna be a beardthal day

[darlingshane]

Beardthal at Fan Expo Dallas on June 2023

[chelseasdagger]

JON BERNTHAL as FRANK CASTLE

Season 1, Episode 2: Two Dead Men

[darlingshane]

How to sit like Jon Bernthal: 1. Sit down like you have a big dick.

[darlingshane]

those are some big fucking guns.

[darlingshane]

Jon Bernthal at Emerald City Comic Con on 2016

[bernthirst-events]

BEARDTHAL BASH 2023

Hello fellow Bernthirsters!

After starting the year with a bang of gorgeous Jontent, we are finally back with a brand-new event. 

We are making it extra special, since the “main character” of this event will be Jon’s infamous Beard (yes, it deserves a capital B). There won’t be a theme a day this time. The only rule will be that whatever you create MUST include the Beard. Shave it off? Grow it longer? Pull on it? Burn from it? Everything is up to YOU!  

Since we didn’t do anything last September, we chose to have this event around his birthday month to celebrate the man we all love and thirst over. 

To help with inspiration, we included a list of prompts below. 

Ready? Set… Thirst!

SUGGESTED PROMPTS: Beard Burn, Stubble, Grooming, Beard & Curls, Trimming, Petting the beard, Beard products, Not a hipster, Lumberjack, On the lam, New Identity, Beard Contest, Beard Challenge, Prickling hairs, Flowery beard, Tangled, Barbershop, Shaving accident, Cozy, Scruffy, Fluffy, Bushy, Goatee, Grey Hairs…

BEARDED CHARACTERS: Frank Castle, Sam Rossi, Griff, The Mute, Swaino, Michael Berzatto. (You don't have to stick to these, you can easily give Shane a beard if you want.)

Deadline: September 18 - September 24.  

Tumblr Tag: BeardthalBash

AO3 Collection: BeardthalBash2023

POSTING GUIDELINES

[anna-hawk]

Fantasizing about Shane if he'd survived S2, with no way to shave his face anymore since the farm is gone, and running around with his curls back and a thick beard added to them 🤤