My spot

We usually see Frank being very self-deprecating, thinking he's a bad person or doesn't deserve anything good, but what if it was the other way around... Maybe she's early on in a relationship with Frank, but she deals with depression/anxiety, or trust issues, or she's just never had someone love her like that, and has a hard time believing or accepting that she's good enough/pretty enough for someone like Frank Castle... 🥺 She brushes off his compliments, or thinks that he wouldn't want to "put up with" her for long (Meanwhile she's doing nothing wrong). But as usual, he is ever observant and understanding, and gently persistent in proving her wrong 😩

(I know it seems like this is a common theme, many of us here feel that way or have felt something similar at one point or another. I just really love that through writing/reading fics like these, it has actually helped some people feel better or realize they deserve good things and happiness too.) 🖤

Eeeeeepp this gets me in the heart because soooooo many women can relate. Sweet Frankie would handle it so gently 😩

Frank Castle x Emotionally Insecure Reader

It was so silly, really. It was just your little tinkering hobby and it was just the local library. Yes, they agreed to display your "abandoned miniatures" in the glass case on the main floor but that was only because you sheepishly asked if they'd be interested, having seen other local art in the case. They were so kind to agree and that was validation enough-- you couldn't fathom telling anyone, let alone Frank, that they would be there. This would be your small personal moment of pride and not a burden for others-- everyone had busy lives.

Except Frank was already quite friendly with the librarians, being an avid reader himself. It was one of the few places Frank even got "chatty" in his life, with the local librarians who were all too delighted to have big scary Frank share his thoughts on some of the great classics. He'd grown a bit of camaraderie with them and decided he was going to make a plea to get the new book by your favorite author into the library's circulation.

He stepped up to the desk in the middle of the day on Thursday looking for an update on the book, hoping to surprise you with it for the weekend and they'd proudly handed it over, adding "Oh and tell your girlfriend we're so excited for her display! I love miniatures. Remind her to bring a printed photograph of herself too." The librarian was met with a blank stare as Frank scratched the back of his head in confusion.

"Display?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Yeah, the display. Of her art? The case is all ready, just cleaned it out this morning" the librarian responded, pointing to the empty case. Frank played along, determined to extract the details he needed.

"Ah yeah, yeah. Right, the display. Remind me, when is she settin' that up again?" he asks.

"Saturday at 10am I think," the librarian responds.

"Yeah that's right. Saturday. Alright, thanks again," Frank adds before heading out with the book in hand.

Later that evening Frank was itching to give you the new book and attempt to understand why you hadn't told him about your art display.

"I said close 'em doll. Come on," he urged, making you sit on the couch and close your eyes.

"Frank I hope you didn't go out of your way for something. It's not my birthday or anything," you reply, sitting reluctantly on the couch. it's not that you hated surprises you just never felt all that worthy of a grand gesture.

"It ain't gotta be your birthday for me to treat you nice sweetheart," Frank replies, filing away for later that he needed to unpack where this desire to not be a burden came from in the first place.

Frank gingerly places the fresh, crisp book in your hands and murmurs, "alright open 'em honey."

Your eyes land on the book in your hands and you feel speechless for a moment. How had he remembered this was your favorite author? And how did he manage to get the first copy from the library? It was on waitlists across the city for weeks. You were tearful at the gesture.

"Frank.... how... how did you--" you start, looking up to meet his eyes, creased in the corners from the faint smile on his face.

"Eh, those librarians like me. Got 'em to give me a couple favors," he explains.

"But.... it's just, I mentioned this author maybe once, before we even started dating. How did you know?" you ask, incredulously.

Frank's face screws up a moment, making sense of a question he thought had an obvious answer. "Sweetheart, you've got about eight dog-eared copies of the other books in your apartment and I remembered the way you talked about them like they were magic or somethin' that night on the porch," he answers.

"Oh...I didn't think you'd remember" you answer sort of incredulously, shocked by his consideration. "Why'd you go through so much trouble Frank? I feel so bad if it was a bother," you add, the guilt of being accommodated already settling in.

There was that look again. Frank furrowed his brows, considering how much effort it would take to knock the teeth out of whoever made you think you weren't worth an effort.

"I did it because you're worth doin' it for sweetheart," Frank responds gently, almost like reminding you of a long-forgotten truth. "And I like seein' you happy and bein' the one to do it," he adds, reaching his hand to cup you jaw and stroke it with his thumb. He takes the moment to inspect your face, hoping his stare could bore right into your brain and fix whatever felt broken.

"Hey listen, let's find a good coffee shop this weekend-- we'll read for hours yeah?" he asks, tugging you back from wherever your thoughts were pulling you away.

"Yeah, I'd really love that Frankie. Maybe sometime after Saturday morning?" you ask, remembering your plans to construct the display case.

"Yeah honey," Frank replies, waiting to see if you intended to mention the case, "that'll work fine. You got something you're doing Saturday mornin'?"

"Yeah it's nothing. It's just this thing at --- eh, forget it. Just a thing I have to finish," you reply, halting at inviting Frank. He had already seen your miniatures, he didn't need to see them in the case too. He'd already done so much, you felt so silly asking for more from him.

He nods and you think you notice sadness dance on his face for a moment but it's gone as fast as it came. "Alright honey, Saturday afternoon it is."

-----

You were putting the finishes touches on the case, adjusting the accessories to a few pieces that got dislodged in travel. One of the librarians hovered nearby, nearly squealing at your work.

"Oh my god, it looks so cool. How'd you learn all this stuff??" she asks as her eyes wander over every piece.

Your cheeks burn beet red at the compliment. "Oh geez, thank you. It was a lot of trial and error. And a lot of YouTube," you add with a shrug.

"Well I love it," she says, turning back to the circulation desk. "Oh hey Frank," she adds with a wave.

You go stock still at her greeting. Had she said Frank? Your Frank? You gently place down the tweezers you held and turn slowly toward the desk, Frank's familiar silhouette only three yards away.

"Hi beautiful," he murmurs, that face-lighting grin on his face. He's holding the single largest bouquet of flowers you'd ever seen and he's stepping towards you with his eyes locked on yours.

"Frank- I'm so sorr--" you start but he's shaking his head no.

"Don't you dare apologize doll," he says with a smile, stepping in front of you and guiding your face to his with his free hand to kiss you.

"I should have told you. I just didn't think it was worth your time," you admit, "It's not like it's The Met," you joke with a timid laugh.

He only grins a moment before he's back to attempting to read your mind with his eyes alone. He pulls you a fraction closer, your front pushed against the sturdy wall of his chest, held in place by the arm anchored around your lower back. "You gotta let me in a little bit," he murmurs, bending to say it directly in your ear.

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, Frank reading you like a book. You're conflicted at the overwhelming desire to let Frank love you the way you dreamed of being loved and the ever-present voice in your head that told you that you weren't worthy of that love.

You make the choice then and there to be vulnerable.

"But what if I let you in and you find there's nothing to love there," you answer him, a whisper in the quiet library, not even able to meet Frank's eye as you said it.

"Hey," Frank says, concern crossing his features, "hey look at me sweetheart" and you reluctantly comply, casting your eyes up while your head remains lowered. "It's not possible. Every ounce you're willin' to give me makes me love you more and more. I feel like I'm drunk on it half the time," he adds with a chuckle and you crack a smile.

one thought i have is dada frank getting home from whatever mission he’s set himself on. you’ve been needy all damn day, with no way to control it. there’s new cum stains on the couch, the bed. you’re a mess. when he gets home you nearly pounce on him. kissing down his front and dropping to your knees. you rest your head against his bulge and mouth at it through his jeans while humping his boot. you cum so quick— too quick, he’s like ?????. your cum is glistening on his boot, from the laces to the toe. he brings you to the bedroom and spreads your legs apart. your pussy is just red, sticky, puffy, covered in dry cum because you can’t clean yourself. he pulls your lips apart with his thumb and inspects it. toys with your clit- which makes you hiss. you clench around nothing. that’s when he pries your hole open with your thumbs to see if you’ve been playing with yourself. :( he feels so bad because you’re so fucked out and covered in so many fluids.

he brings you to the bathroom to clean you up, but first makes you pee. god knows you haven’t even thought about doing that, too focused on needing frank.

he wipes you. you hiss again. he starts to genuinely wonder how much you’ve been touching yourself today. why does his baby girl’s pussy hurt so much?:(

he finally brings you to bed and gets your jammies on. he kisses your forehead and leaves to go get you water from the kitchen.

that’s when he notices the stains. the corners of the dining chairs, the arm of the couch, the corner of the dining table. when he walks back into the room, he notices a stain on the bed post. his dirty girl. using any and all surfaces go try and relieve yourself.

he quickly strips his clothes and carefully takes off his boots (because he wants to keep that trophy of yours). he crawls onto the bed and scoops you into his arms.

“been busy today, huh, baby girl? you missed your dad?” he coos, running his fingers through your hair.

you shrug, mildly embarrassed. he tells you that’s okay. s’normal for a tiny thing like you to go into heat like that. however, he then tries (keyword: tries) to get it in your head that rubbing your sweet pussy all over the furniture can be bad for you! what if you get a splinter? or a rash? or a burn from carpet or the couch? he just wants to make sure his girl is okay.

… and that’s why he does another inspection. he gives you something to suck on (perhaps a lollipop or a toy) while he pokes and prods at your pussy. he’ll lift your hips up to make sure you didn’t hurt your other hole. he’ll press delicate little kisses around your pussy, trying to soothe you. it just makes you more wet. you wanna cum again already, but he’s not sure if he should let you. you’ve clearly worn yourself out.

but he does it anyway. his tongue moves slowly. wanting to be easy. not rough or fast like how you were humping all the furniture earlier. he sucks on your clit- purposely not using his teeth or fingers like usual. just his warm, wet tongue lapping up your juices.

he drags this out for hours. it’s not even him trying yo be cruel. he just wants you to feel good. no burning from his fingers stretching you open or hot friction from the fabric of the couch. just daddy’s tongue. when he does finally let you cum, it’s the most mind boggling orgasm you’ve ever had. cum flows out of your pussy in shock waves, and frank does not let a single drop go to waste. his tongue moves deep inside your hole, making sure your orgasm is drawn out as much as possible before it becomes overstimulating.

😊

um. i think i wrote too much. lowwwwkey got carried away lalala.

lover. — FRANK CASTLE

Frank Castle is a lover boy, despite his earned title. He’s soft for his girl, eyes glossed over and tenderly looking you up and down. Over the years, he learned how to have a gentle touch, chalking up vulnerability with a lover to be just as crucial as the brutality he possessed. Even The Punisher can be affectionate, regardless of his calloused fingertips and bruised knuckles that rake over the divots of your hips. Frank Castle, in all his fucked up glory, is a lover boy for you.

“I love you,” Frank speaks in a soft whisper, his lips pressed against your temple. Sprawled in his lap, you peer up at him with intention. Some people might think you’re The Punisher’s pet, his little toy, but they don’t know how much you really mean to him. Your body melts into his, acknowledging his profession with a vibrating hum.

“I love you too,” you note, picking at the skin around your fingers. Of course you loved him, too. Maybe too much.

The reciprocation is all it takes to feel Frank’s length harden beneath your bottom. Lips attach to your neck, attacking the spot you always spray your perfume like he’s marking his territory with his saliva. Frank’s speech slurs, nearly sounding drunk at your requital, “You feel what you do to me? Say it again. Say you love me.”

pairing: dean di laurentis x nerd!reader

summary: dean thinks he knows every girl on campus until you show up to his party with his best friends girlfriend

a/n: join the taglist!

you never should have agreed to come.

that thought had been stuck in your head since hannah practically forced you into her car an hour ago. she had shown up at your house unannounced, walked straight past your excuses, and informed you that you were going to a party whether you liked it or not. apparently spending every friday night at home with a book was becoming “a serious issue” in her eyes. now you stood awkwardly in the middle of a crowded house, clutching a red plastic cup filled with soda you hadn’t touched once, while music blasted so loudly it rattled your ribs. people pushed past you every few seconds, laughing and shouting over one another. you felt completely out of place. your oversized sweater suddenly seemed too warm, your glasses felt crooked, and every time someone glanced in your direction, your stomach twisted itself into another knot.

One thing tho -- Frank doesn't just tolerate, he enjoys period sex. You're skittish about it at first, certain he'd be turned off by the gore of it all but of course Frank isn't a phased a bit.

He wants you comfortable though so he keeps the lights low (normally he wants to see every goddamn thing) because he knows you're a bit more relaxed that way and he lays down a towel and keeps another nearby, occasionally wiping himself clean so you didn't catch a glimpse and get self-conscious.

He loved that it made him slow down, be tender. Sometimes he needed the reminder. He knew you were achey-- your cramps clawing at your belly and your breasts swollen and sensitive. And he made himself handle you accordingly-- all soft touches and quiet murmurs and gentle movements. He instructed you to "lie still sweetheart, I'll do the lifting" and he meant it. Any angle he took you he made sure to move you there himself, adjusting your limbs carefully and asking "this alright baby? Not hurtin' are you?"

He was careful not to go as deep as usual, grinding his jaw from the restraint. You had mentioned once that the fullness felt nice, the gentle pressure of him against your walls easing the constant ache below your waist and he took the note, going slow and positioning you so that the angle felt just a bit tighter. Sometimes even pausing in place, stretching you full and rubbing your back, asking "Feels nice like this babygirl?"

When you came, he hunched over you, his length still buried deep and he cradled your head so that the spasms weren't so taxing on you, cooing "That's it sweetheart, feelin' better?" as you whimpered beneath him.

Technically, that's on you.

But John grins at the touch of your trembling muscles, and sucks the delicate skin on your inner thigh, “Sorry, dovie. A few more, I promise.”

You whimper pitifully as a response. Then a high-pitched scream, bucking your hips up when he takes the clit between his lips. Again.

frank "I know you can, but let me help you" castle

fem reader, 1359 words. frank with a hyper independent reader that’s often reluctant to accept his help. he aims to serve

You're excessively independent, maybe to a fault. You like to do things for yourself, by yourself — that's just the way you are. You've become so used to doing everything on your own, that when Frank came into the picture, you found yourself struggling to adjust to this new and foreign dynamic. It had become rather difficult to calibrate yourself to such a vastly polar change.

Frank's not much good with expressing himself. Words of earnest emotion are tricky for him, he doesn't like to do it. He's not someone that can vocally communicate feelings, someone that can say exactly what they're thinking in that regard. He much prefers to show it, prove it by doing things — doing things for you so that you know what he often fails to convey.

He knows you to be someone that values independency. And while he doesn't try to change that per say, he does try to alter it, doing so subtly and gradually so as to get you to let up just a little bit of your self-appointed control.

It was a bit of a task: to find a solution that allows him to prove his love by serving you, while somehow managing to uphold the sense of independence you're so clearly caught up on. It was about a compromise, helping you without diminishing you. 

Here's one at 49:

here’s a glimpse into what your texts with jon look like as his controversially younger girlfriend. sometimes there’s a lapse in communication and understanding with one another, but fucking about it usually solves any issues.

vs