bambiisin

[bambiisin]

OFF LIMITS - ON PURPOSE

What if Frank’s your dad’s best friend.

You really shouldn’t be staring at your dad’s best friend like that.

But Frank Castle’s wearing those jeans. The faded ones that fit too well for a man who claims to hate attention. And his t-shirt? Stretched just tight enough across his chest that you had to take another sip of lemonade just to cool off.

He was fixing something in the garage ,shirt already slightly damp from the summer heat, grease on his hands, jaw clenched in that way that always made your stomach flip.

“You planning to look at that wall all day?” you ask, leaning against the doorframe, sipping from your glass.

Frank doesn’t even glance at you. “You plannin’ to stare at me all day?”

Busted.

You grin. “Depends. You planning on bending over again? That was the highlight of my morning.”

Now he looks at you. Over his shoulder. That half-smirk forming.

“You got a mouth on you,” he says. “Your dad know you talk like that?”

“Oh, I only talk like that around you.”

Frank stands up, wipes his hands on a rag, and gives you the look. Not angry. Just that fake-scolding expression he uses when he’s trying really hard not to smile.

“You’re trouble.”

“You’re older than my dad’s truck,” you shoot back.

He laughs.Actually laughs. Low, gravelly, and warm. “And I still run better.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile. “Gross. Are you flirting with me, Mr. Castle?”

He walks toward you slowly, that teasing glint in his eye. “If I were flirtin’ with you, you’d know.”

You don’t move. Just tilt your head and say, sweet as sugar, “Maybe I already do.”

Frank stops in front of you, just close enough that you can smell the soap and sweat and engine oil. He leans a little closer, voice a low rumble.

“You keep talkin’ like that, I’m gonna end up in trouble.”

You blink innocently. “Oh no. Whatever will we do?”

A voice shouts from the backyard.Your dad.

Frank immediately straightens up, steps back, and grabs a wrench like he was definitely not just seconds away from flirting with his best friend’s daughter.

You lean in before you go and whisper:

“See you later, Mr. Castle.”

He growls under his breath. “You better not.”

You wink.

You definitely will.

_____________________________

guess who’s back. :P

[bambiisin]

RIDE or YOURS

frank castle x reader

where frank rides a motorcycle

Black jeans. Tight shirt under his leather jacket. That look in his eyes.

“Hi,” you said, quieter than you meant to. Your voice always got like that around him.

“Hey.” His voice was gravel, deep and low and just for you. “You cold?”

You shook your head, even though goosebumps raced down your arms. He noticed anyway.

“C’mere.” He closed the distance, unzipping his jacket halfway and sliding it off his shoulders. “Put this on.”

You hesitated. “What about you?”

He smirked, stepping closer, so close your breath caught. “I run hot.”

The jacket was warm and smelled like leather and smoke and something so him it made your knees feel like air. You tugged it around you, suddenly drowning in the size of it. His scent wrapped around you like his hands would, if he ever let himself.

“You look good in it,” he murmured, gaze dropping. “Like you’re mine.”

That heat hit low in your belly, and you didn’t know what to say. So you just blinked up at him, cheeks on fire.

Frank’s eyes softened, like he saw every little flustered thought you had. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, voice lower now. “You just look real sweet when you blush like that.”

You swallowed hard, heart thudding. “I’m not scared of you.”

He leaned in, lips just a breath from your ear. “You should be.”

Your breath hitched.

His fingers brushed your waist, featherlight, teasing, like he wanted to grip you but was waiting for the invitation. “You ready for the ride?”

You nodded, too fast.

He turned, climbed onto the bike, then looked over his shoulder, eyes dark and glittering. “Get on, baby.”

You did. Carefully. Shyly. Hands on his sides, fingers curling into his shirt like a secret.

“You can hold me tighter,” he said without looking back, voice smug now. “I don’t bite.”

Not unless you ask.

The bike roared to life, and you swore he leaned into every turn a little slower, just to feel the way you clung to him. And you knew he felt it, that heat between you, thick as the night air.

Nothing happened.

And still, it felt like everything did.

⸻

i lowkey don’t like this one :/

[bambiisin]

DIDNT MEAN TO

Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT Car sex, dom!Frank, unintentional teasing (from reader), loss of control (but still respectful), public-ish setting, overstimulation, possession kink, size kink, reader is innocent/clueless about how much she affects him

You’re halfway through a story about something stupid that happened at the grocery store, sitting in the passenger seat with your legs tucked under you, when Frank’s hand twitches on the steering wheel for the third time in two minutes.

You don’t notice.

You’re laughing, animated, licking the corner of your lips because some of your iced coffee smudged there, and you don’t think twice about it. You reach down absentmindedly to adjust the hem of your sundress that keeps sliding up your thighs, and all the while, you’re completely unaware that the man beside you is slowly losing his mind.

Frank Castle can handle pain. He can handle pressure. He can handle a firefight, a stab wound, a full day with barely any sleep.

But he cannot handle you sitting pretty beside him, talking soft and smiling sweet, looking like that.without even trying.

You turn your head and catch him gripping the wheel tight. His jaw clenched. Brow furrowed.

“Frank?” you ask, brows drawn in confusion. “You okay?”

He grunts. “Yeah.”

But his voice is rough. Strained.

You blink. “You sure? You look tense.”

He doesn’t answer for a second. Just mutters, “Don’t move like that.”

You glance down at yourself, confused. “Move like what?”

Another pause. His voice comes lower this time. Dangerous. But not in a way that makes you afraid. In a way that makes your skin heat.

“You’re sittin there all sweet,” he rasps, “lickin your lips, legs up on the seat, dress ridin up. And you don’t even know what you’re doin’ to me, do you?”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. “I…I didn’t mean to.”

He swears under his breath and suddenly veers the car off onto a back road, gravel crunching under the tires. The car jerks to a stop in a shaded patch under some trees. He kills the engine.

“Frank, wait-what are you-”

“I can’t take it anymore,” he growls, unbuckling his belt like a man possessed. “You didn’t mean to, I know. But you’ve been drivin’ me outta my fuckin’ mind for the past hour.”

You’re blinking fast, heart pounding as he leans over you, caging you in against the door. His hand slides up your bare thigh, hot and firm.

“You wanna tell me to stop?” he breathes, voice thick, lips hovering just over yours. “Now’s the time.”

Your lips part, a shaky breath leaving you.

“Stop” you whisper, but your hips lift instinctively into his touch.

He smirks. Dark. Knowing.

“Didn’t think so.”

His mouth crashes into yours, rough and hungry, all patience gone. He’s got your dress shoved up around your hips in seconds, panties slid to the side, his fingers sliding through your folds like he needs to memorize the way you feel.

“So fuckin wet,” he groans, forehead pressed to yours. “Sweet girl doesn’t even know what she does to me. You kill me, y’know that?”

You gasp as he lines up, dragging the thick head of his cock through your slick.

“Frank, someone could-could see-”

“Let ‘em.” His voice is gravel. “Let ‘em see how good I fuck you. Let ‘em know you’re mine.”

He pushes in deep and slow, and your whole body arches, the stretch overwhelming in the best way. One of his hands clamps over your thigh, keeping you open, the other fisted in your hair, holding you right there so you feel every inch.

You whimper, fingers scrambling against his shoulders. “Frank-oh my God-”

“I know, baby,” he pants. “You weren’t ready. Didn’t know what you were doin’ to me. But now you do.”

He starts moving,deep, grinding thrusts that shake the whole car. The windows fog almost instantly. His hand slips to your throat, not to squeeze, just to hold. Just to claim.

“Mine” he growls. “Mine. Say it.”

“Yours” you gasp, tears stinging the corners of your eyes from how full you feel. “All yours, Frank.”

He groans, hips stuttering, control slipping as you clamp around him.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Huh?” His thumb finds your clit, rubbing fast circles. “Come on. Wanna feel you fall apart. Right here. In my fuckin car.”

It doesn’t take long.

You come with a cry, your body locking around his, pleasure hitting you like a freight train. He follows a second later with a deep, broken moan, hips buried to the hilt as he spills into you.

For a long moment, the only sound is your breathing. His forehead rests against yours. Your hands are tangled in his shirt. His palm is still pressed to your thigh like he needs to feel you.

“I really didn’t mean to” you whisper, voice small.

He kisses you. Soft. Sweet. Full of heat still simmering beneath the surface.

“I know you didn’t,” he murmurs. “That’s why I lost my fuckin mind.”

⸻

hehe

[bambiisin]

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)

[bambiisin]

DO I WANNA KNOW?

frank castle x reader

when you decide to drunk call him…

The burner phone buzzed on the cheap motel nightstand. Frank barely glanced at it at first, too busy nursing the whiskey bottle he’d been working on for the last hour. But then it buzzed again.

Private number.

He let it ring out. Whoever it was, they’d call back if it mattered.

And they did.

With a sigh, he grabbed the phone and answered.

“Yeah.”

There was a pause on the other end. Then a breath, a voice he hadn’t heard in too long.

“Ever thought of calling when you had a few?”

Frank closed his eyes. Leaned back against the headboard. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “You drunk?”

A quiet laugh. “Maybe.”

He ran a hand down his face. “Where are you?”

“Somewhere I shouldn’t be,” you admitted, voice slow, words slightly slurred. “But that’s not new, right?”

Frank sighed, shifting forward, setting the bottle down. “Tell me where.”

“You always do this.”

“Do what?”

“Act like you don’t care until you do.”

He rubbed his temple. “You called me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” A beat. “Guess I always do.”

Frank let that sit between you both. He could hear the hum of a city behind you, the distant sound of traffic, people laughing, a world still spinning. One he didn’t belong in anymore. But you did.

“Where are you?” he asked again, softer this time.

You exhaled, shaky. “I don’t know.”

That wasn’t good enough.

“I’ll find you,” he said.

And he meant it.

[bambiisin]

NEXT DOOR

frank castle x reader

warnings: implied „smut“ but nothing happens (yet hehe), kissing

The first time you saw him, you thought great, another quiet neighbor who keeps to himself.

You weren’t wrong. Frank Castle wasn’t exactly the chatty type. He moved in next door with little more than a duffel bag and a grunt in response to your polite “Welcome to the building.”

You learned quickly that he wasn’t like the other tenants. He didn’t throw parties, didn’t blast music, didn’t ask to borrow sugar or some other dumb excuse to start a conversation. If anything, it felt like he was avoiding them. Avoiding you.

At first, you let it be.

But then came the little things.

How he always took the stairs instead of the elevator. How you sometimes heard him coming home at ungodly hours, boots heavy against the floor. How he never had visitors, but you’d catch glimpses of bruised knuckles and a faraway look in his eyes when he thought no one was watching.

And then, of course, there were the other things.

Like how he always held the door open for you without a word. How, on the nights when your crappy heater barely worked, a folded-up blanket mysteriously appeared in front of your door. How when your ex showed up one night, drunk and slurring apologies, Frank had been there before you could even tell him to leave—standing between you and the guy with a look that sent him running.

After that, you stopped pretending he was just your neighbor.

And he stopped pretending he didn’t notice you.

⸻

It was slow. Frustratingly so.

You started seeing him more—at the corner store, at the laundromat, on the roof when you both needed some air. Conversations started short, mostly gruff nods and muttered hellos. But then they got longer.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” you had teased one night, sitting beside him on the rooftop ledge.

Frank had smirked, taking a sip of his beer. “Talkin’s overrated.”

You rolled your eyes, bumping your shoulder against his. “You know, most people say ‘thank you’ when their neighbor keeps them company.”

His smirk deepened, but his voice was softer when he said, “That what you’re doin’? Keepin’ me company?”

You didn’t answer. But you didn’t leave, either.

Neither did he.

⸻

The first time he kissed you, it was because he was tired of pretending he didn’t want to.

It happened late one night in your apartment, after a shared dinner that had turned into two hours of just talking. You had been laughing at something—something small, something unimportant—when he just… moved.

One second, he was leaning against the counter, watching you with that unreadable expression. The next, his hand was on your jaw, his lips brushing against yours in a way that stole the breath from your lungs.

He hesitated, like he was giving you a chance to stop him. But you didn’t.

Didn’t even think about it.

Because God, you had wanted this.

Wanted him.

And when you kissed him back, he let out a sound that sent heat straight to your core.

⸻

It didn’t happen right away.

Frank wasn’t the kind of man to rush things—not with you. Not with this.

But the night it did happen, you knew there was no going back.

You were in his apartment, curled up on his couch, wearing one of his old shirts that smelled like soap and gun oil. His hands had been on you all night—small touches, a thumb brushing over your knuckles, fingers tracing absentminded circles on your thigh. Nothing urgent. Nothing rushed.

But when you shifted, swinging one leg over his lap, his breath hitched.

His hands settled on your hips, steady but firm. “You sure?” he murmured, voice rough with restraint.

You nodded, heart pounding. “Yeah.”

That was all he needed.

Frank kissed you slow, deep, like he had all the time in the world. And when he laid you back against the couch, his body pressing into yours, you knew—

There was no one else. No one who would ever make you feel like this.

And Frank?

Frank would take his time proving it.

[bambiisin]

part one^

LINES IN THE SAND PT.2

frank castle x reader

warnings: none

You made your decision.

The silence is heavy. Both men are waiting, their eyes locked onto you, their tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

You could walk away.

You could tell them both this is too much, too complicated, too dangerous.

But that would be a lie.

Because the truth is, you need them both.

For now.

You take a slow breath, meeting Matt’s gaze first. His face is carefully composed, but you know him too well. You can see the flicker of doubt beneath the mask, the way his jaw tightens like he’s bracing for a hit. He wants you to choose him. To prove that you still believe in the man he is, despite everything.

Then, there’s Frank. He’s as still as stone, but his eyes are locked onto you with a different kind of intensity—steady, unwavering, like he already knows how this ends. Like he’s just waiting for you to catch up.

Your heart beats harder.

“I can’t pick a side,” you say, the words feeling like a betrayal the second they leave your mouth. “Not right now.”

Matt exhales slowly, like he’s trying to keep himself from arguing. Frank tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I need time,” you continue. “I need to figure out where I stand in all of this.”

It’s not a lie.

But it’s not the whole truth, either.

Because deep down, somewhere you’re not ready to admit yet, you already know where you belong.

⸻

The next few weeks are a blur of adrenaline and sleepless nights. You move between them like a shadow, following Matt’s lead in the courtroom by day, watching Frank disappear into the city’s underbelly by night.

Matt fights for justice. For redemption.

Frank fights for you.

It’s in the way he stands just a little closer than necessary when things get rough. The way his eyes always flicker toward you first after a fight, checking for injuries before he even acknowledges the bodies left in his wake. The way he doesn’t try to make you choose, doesn’t ask you to be something you’re not.

But Matt? He tries so hard to be what he thinks you need. To shield you from the worst parts of his world, even when he’s covered in his own blood. Even when he’s barely standing.

And it’s in those moments—the ones where he’s battered and stubborn, refusing to let you get too close—that you start to see it.

You love him.

But it’s not enough.

Because love shouldn’t feel like trying to hold onto something that keeps slipping through your fingers. It shouldn’t feel like a battle you’re doomed to lose.

And Frank?

Frank has never asked you to hold on.

Because he’s always been right there, waiting for you to see it.

⸻

The realization hits you in the middle of a quiet night, long after another fight, another war waged on the streets.

You’re standing next to Frank outside his hideout, the city humming in the distance. He’s silent, watching you with that same steady patience, like he knows you have something to say.

And this time, you don’t run from it.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper.

Frank doesn’t flinch. “With Red?”

You nod. “With him. With pretending I don’t already know where I’m supposed to be.”

Frank studies you for a long moment, and then—slowly—he steps closer. “You sure about that?”

You swallow hard. “Yeah.”

He nods once, and just like that, the weight that’s been pressing on your chest finally lifts.

No turning back.

—————————————————-

(part 2! @sam-and-dean-eternally)

[bambiisin]

Morning Ritual

Frank Castle x Shy!Reader

warnings: light teasing

His favorite type of breakfast.

You don’t know why he keeps coming back.

There are plenty of breakfast spots in the city—places with better coffee, faster service, and waitresses who don’t fumble their words every time he looks at them.

And yet, Frank Castle is always here. Always in the same booth, at the same time, with the same unreadable expression.

And always teasing you.

It started small—little comments when you’d nervously set his coffee down without making eye contact.

“Careful there, sweetheart. Gonna spill it if your hands keep shakin’ like that.”

You had turned bright red, mumbling an apology, but he had only smirked, sipping his coffee like he enjoyed every second of your flustered reaction.

Then came the little challenges.

“Gotta be quicker than that, darlin’,” he’d say when you hesitated too long with his order, watching the way your fingers fidgeted with your notepad. “What, afraid of me?”

You had shaken your head quickly, but that only made him chuckle. “Nah, you’re terrified,” he teased, his voice low and amused. “Kinda cute, though.”

It had been weeks of this now—his teasing, his slow, knowing smiles, the way his eyes followed you as you moved through the restaurant. It didn’t matter how many times you told yourself he was just messing with you. That he probably did this everywhere he went.

Because there was something about the way he lingered.

Like he was waiting for you to push back.

But you never did.

Not until today.

⸻

It’s a slow morning, just a few regulars scattered around, when you approach his table with his usual—black coffee, eggs over easy, bacon crispy.

“Startin’ to think you know me too well, sweetheart,” he says as you set the plate down, his voice warm with amusement. “Should I be worried?”

For once, instead of shrinking under his gaze, you take a breath and meet his eyes—just for a second.

“Well… you do come here every day,” you say softly. “Maybe I should be worried.”

His eyebrows raise slightly, and then—God help you—he grins.

A real grin.

Slow, wolfish, like he just realized you might not be as shy as he thought.

“That so?” He leans back in the booth, studying you. “Maybe I just like the food.”

You swallow. “Maybe.”

He tilts his head. “Or maybe I like watchin’ you turn red every time I call you sweetheart.”

Your face does heat up at that, but for the first time, you don’t look away.

Frank lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Damn,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “Guess I gotta step up my game.”

And just like that, breakfast is suddenly your favorite part of the day.

——————————————

(please request something if you’d like! :) i’m just emptying my notes atm.)

[bambiisin]

LINES IN THE SAND

Frank Castle x reader x Matt Murdock

warnings: fighting, swearing

Both want you. Who will you choose?

“You need to back off, Castle.”

Matt’s voice is steady, controlled—but Frank hears the tension beneath it. The restraint.

He smirks. “That right?” His tone is calm, almost amused, but his body is anything but relaxed.

Matt doesn’t hesitate. “She doesn’t belong in your world.”

Frank’s jaw tightens. His fingers flex at his sides, like he’s already picturing wrapping them around Matt’s throat. “And she belongs in yours?”

Matt’s expression stays unreadable, but Frank knows that silence well. It’s the kind that comes when someone doesn’t like the truth staring them in the face.

“I can protect her,” Matt says finally.

Frank huffs out a humorless laugh. “Yeah? That what you tell yourself?” He steps forward, the air between them thick with unspoken threats. “You think she’s safer with you? In your little crusade, runnin’ rooftops, takin’ beatings for a city that don’t give a damn about you?” His voice drops lower. “You ever think maybe you put her in more danger than I do?”

Matt’s lips press into a hard line. “I don’t drag her into the dark.”

Frank shakes his head. “No. You just pretend it ain’t there.” He lets the words sink in, watching Matt’s fingers twitch like he’s itching for a fight. “At least I don’t lie to her about what this life really is.”

Matt exhales sharply through his nose. “You think she needs someone like you? Someone who leaves nothing but bodies behind?”

Frank leans in, voice quiet but lethal. “She needs someone who ain’t afraid to do what it takes to keep her safe.”

“You think she wants that?” Matt asks, his voice rising. “To be part of your war?”

Frank’s expression hardens. “Don’t put words in her mouth, Red.” His head tilts slightly, eyes dark under the dim light. “Or is that the problem? That maybe—just maybe—she don’t need you the way you want her to?”

Matt’s jaw clenches, but this time, he doesn’t have a comeback. Frank sees the flicker of doubt, and it fuels something dangerous inside him.

Neither of them notice you at first. Not until you clear your throat.

Two sets of eyes snap to you. One dark and burning, the other shadowed but unreadable.

“I didn’t realize I was something to fight over,” you say, arms crossed.

Frank’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Ain’t fightin’ over you, sweetheart.” He shoots a glance at Matt. “Just tellin’ Red here how things are.”

Matt straightens, drawing in a breath like he’s trying to ground himself. “And how’s that?”

Frank’s eyes find yours. “Your choice. Always has been.”

Matt looks at you too, his expression softer now, waiting.

The weight of their attention is almost suffocating. Two men—so different, yet so alike in their devotion to you.

But in the end, there can only be one.

Right?

—————————-

(please leave some requests if you‘d like to! :D)

[bambiisin]

His to keep

frank castle x reader

warnings: jealous frank!

frank doesn’t like sharing.

You notice it before he even says a word.

The way Frank tenses every time you talk to another man. The way his jaw tightens, his fingers flexing like he’s seconds away from breaking something—or someone.

At first, you think you’re imagining it. Frank Castle, jealous? The man who’s seen hell and walked through it, who’s lost everything—who never lets himself have anything? No. That can’t be it.

But then it happens again.

And again.

A bartender leans in a little too close while handing you your drink? Frank’s hand is suddenly on the small of your back, pulling you into him, his body solid and unmovable.

A guy at the gas station offers to check your tire pressure? Frank steps between you like a brick wall, his voice low and dangerous. “She’s good.”

Matt, your old friend, throws an arm around your shoulders in a playful hug? Frank is silent for the rest of the night, but his hand grips your thigh under the table, thumb stroking slow, firm circles—reminding you exactly who you belong to.

And when you finally confront him, half-exasperated, half-amused, he doesn’t even try to deny it.

“You don’t like sharing, do you?” you tease, arms crossed as you look up at him.

Frank just stares at you, dark eyes unreadable. Then, in one slow, deliberate motion, he steps forward, caging you against the wall.

“No,” he says, voice rough, raw. Final.

Your breath catches when he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Ain’t gonna watch you smile at another man like that. Ain’t gonna sit back while they look at you like you’re something they could have.” His hand slides to your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “’Cause you’re mine.”

His.

God help anyone who forgets that.

[bambiisin]

Drunken confessions

frank castle x reader

warnings: none tbh

when alcohol makes frank start talking.

Frank had always been good at hiding things—his feelings, especially. He wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, not even when it came to you.

You.

You were part of their friend group, always laughing, always a little too cool for her own good. And Frank? He was the idiot who had been in love with you for at least a year but never had the guts to do anything about it. Instead, he settled for being her friend, pretending that watching you date other guys didn’t drive him insane.

Tonight, they were all out at a bar—just another Saturday night, cheap beer and loud music, their usual. Frank had promised himself he wouldn’t drink too much, but then you showed up in that black dress, your hair down, your perfume something sweet and intoxicating.

Yeah. So much for that promise.

Two hours later, Frank was wasted.

They all were, but he was definitely the worst. You had been drinking tequila, laughing at his stupid jokes, and at some point, you had pulled him onto the dance floor. Too close. Too much. He could feel the warmth of your skin, smell your perfume even over the sweat and alcohol in the air.

He needed a cigarette.

Outside the bar, the night air hit him like a slap. He lit his cigarette with shaky hands, leaning against the brick wall. A moment later,You stepped outside too, shivering in the cold.

“You good?” you asked, your voice softer now, less teasing.

Frank exhaled a cloud of smoke and looked at you. You were standing so close, your arms wrapped around yourself, your eyes watching him with that curious tilt of her head.

And maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the fact that he was just so damn tired of pretending, but before he could stop himself, he blurted it out—

“I want you.”

You blinked. “What?”

He laughed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I want you. I have for a long time. But I was too much of a coward to say it.” He let out a breath, shaking his head. “And now I’m telling you while I’m drunk as fuck outside a bar. Classy, huh?”

You just stared at him, your lips slightly parted. For a second, he thought you were going to laugh, maybe tell him to go home and sleep it off.

Instead, you reached for his cigarette, took a slow drag, and said, “Took you long enough.”

And then, before he could even process what was happening—you kissed him.

[bambiisin]

BITTER SWEET.

frank castle x reader

warnings: toxic, mention of stalking, breakup, frank follows her home,kissing

frank is your toxic ex who won’t leave you alone

The rain hit the pavement in soft, rhythmic taps as you pulled your coat tighter around your body. Another night, another text from Frank. Where are you? Why aren’t you answering? You think you can ignore me?

Your fingers curled around your phone, the familiar weight of anxiety pressing against your ribs. It had been months since you left him, but Frank didn’t believe in endings. He lingered like a shadow, slipping into your life through unwanted messages, unexpected appearances, and the constant feeling that you were being watched.

Tonight was supposed to be different. You were meeting friends at a quiet little bar downtown, a place Frank didn’t know. A place where, for a few hours, you could breathe.Or so you thought.

You step into the bar, the warmth hitting you like a wall after the cold rain outside. The low hum of conversation and clinking glasses fills your ears, providing a semblance of comfort. You scan the room, spotting your friends in a corner booth. You smile walking over to them. When they spot you they all start greeting you. You slide into the booth starting to make a conversation with them.

Suddenly you feel an icy chill run down your spine. Something's off. Your eyes dart around nervously, the smile fading as a realization dawns - there's a pair of cold, unblinking eyes watching you from the shadows near the bar.Frank.

You didn’t say anything to your friends because you didn’t want the moment to escalate. He remains seated at the bar, his silhouette blending with the darkness. He doesn't approach or speak. He simply... watches. His presence is felt like a ghost in the room, causing your friends to laugh and joke unaware of the intense stare he's giving you. You try to ignore it, laughing with your friends, having a drink but suddenly your phone buzzed.

„You look beautiful tonight." The message reads, making you jump slightly. You glance at the bar, finding Frank staring intently, his glass half-empty. Your friends notice your reaction. "Who is it?" Your best friend asks curiously. "No one," you lie.

You gave him a look thats said „don’t do this“ and look away. Frank takes a slow sip of his drink, never looking away. He sets the glass down gently, his expression unreadable. Your friends start to chat amongst themselves again, oblivious to the silent battle unfolding across the room.

„Can you get the next round?“ Stella kindly asks. And you wanted to say no, because Frank was sitting right at that bar. But you couldn’t ,when she was giving you the sweetest puppy eyes you ever saw. „of course love“ You say as you make your way to the bar.

As you approach the bar, Frank leans back casually, making no move to speak or reach out to you physically. Yet his eyes follow your every step, intense and piercing even in the dim lighting. He watches intently as you wait for the bartender, noting how you intentionally keep your distance. „6 tequila shots please.“ you say as you look anywhere but in franks direction.

The bartender slides the shots across the bar, his eyes flicking between you and Frank with a curious expression. As you reach for the tray, Frank suddenly stands up, moving with slowness. He places his hand over yours on the bar, stopping you. "Let me,"

„i can handle it“ you say. His hand remains firm on yours,not gripping tightly but enough to keep you from moving. His voice drops lower, meant only for your ears. "Are these shots really necessary? Or are you trying to show me you don't give a shit?" „well noticed frank, i don’t“ you say as you walk away with the shots, your friends cheering when they finally see you.

He watches you walk away, his jaw clenched. He downs his own drink in one swift motion before turning back to the bar, ordering another whiskey. As your friends start taking shots and laughing loudly, Frank's gaze remains fixed on you, his expression a mix of frustration and something deeper.

You feelt him staring but didn’t give him any attention. Until your phone vibrated again. You're a terrible liar." The message reads. Your friends are too drunk to notice your phone lighting up again. "Those shots aren't making you forget about me, are they?" Another message comes through as you take another shot, your vision already blurry. you sigh giving him a death stare across the bar. „don’t text me“ you send.

He reads your message, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He types a response, his eyes never leaving yours. "Or what? You'll stop looking at me?" He hits send and takes another sip of his whiskey, leaning back in his chair with a nonchalant attitude. „you‘ll die without my attention castle.“ you send the message locking your phone and putting it down.

He chuckles to himself, finding amusement in your tough exterior. He replies, "Challenge accepted." He sets his phone down, his eyes glinting with a competitive glint as he watches you ignore him, pretending he doesn't exist across the bar. After several minutes, you notice him stand up suddenly, leaving cash on the bar before walking towards the restrooms near your table. He deliberately passes close enough for you to feel his presence, but not close enough to actually touch. His dark eyes lock with yours momentarily before he disappears into the men's room.

You look away not caring. Ping. You don’t look at it. ping. You ignore it again taking a sip of your drink. ping ping. You curs under your breath picking up your phone. „Three ignores in a row? I think that's a new record." The messages read, teasingly. As you glance up from your phone, you catch Frank leaning casually against the wall by the restrooms, arms crossed, eyebrow raised in challenge. He mouths a silent "Still ignoring?" You roll your eyes „fuck you“ you mauth back smiling.

He laughs silently, his mouth twitching into a smirk. He pulls out his phone and sends another message before you can put yours down. You see the notification light up again. He watches you expectantly, daring you to ignore this one too. "come here" the message reads.You gave him an „are you crazy“ look shaking your head no.

His smirk widens mischievously. He sends another message, his eyes locked with yours across the room, daring you to defy him again. "Last chance to come over here before I make a scene," the message reads. You thought about it. Looking at your friends knowing if he came now this wouldn’t end well at ALL. You stand up slightly „i’ll be right back guys“

He watches you stand up and start walking towards him, his smirk never leaving his face. As you approach, he pushes off from the wall and steps closer to you, his voice low and challenging. "Took you long enough." „what about leave.me.alone. didn’t you get frank?“ you hiss. He leans in closer, his face mere inches from yours, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. "I got it loud and clear. But here's the thing," He glances over at your friends laughing loudly. "You're not really convincing anyone you want to be left alone, are you?"

„we broke up. remember?“ you say now irritated. His expression darkens slightly, a flicker of something pained in his eyes before it's quickly replaced with his usual intensity. "How could I forget?" He murmurs, his gaze flicking down to your lips briefly before snapping back up to meet your eyes. „so how about you start acting like it and stop texting me and following me around“ you spat out. His jaw tightens, his eyes hardening. „you know i can‘t do that“

you sighs „i‘m gonna go back now“He reaches out, his hand wrapping around your wrist gently but firmly, stopping you from leaving. His thumb brushes over your pulse point, sending a shiver down your spine. "Not yet." You pull back your hand „just leave“ you say as you walk back to your friends. Your friends cheer again as you sit down, pushing another shot towards you. They're too drunk to notice your stiff shoulders and tight expression.

He's still standing where you left him, arms crossed, watching through the crowd. The way the light hits his face makes his jawline look sharper. . You laugh along your friend ,taking another shot, trying to ignore the way your phone keeps buzzing in your pocket.

After some time the buzzing gets on your last nerve and you look at it. As soon as you look at your phone, a ton of messages and missed calls from Frank flood your screen. You hesitate for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest before you finally open the messaging app. "Come outside." The message reads. „no!“ you send back.

A moment passes before another message comes through. "Don't make me come in there and get you." The tone is clear, he's not messing around. You can feel your friends eyes on you, but they're too drunk to notice the tension radiating from your phone. „Guys its getting late, i have to go“ you say as you put on your coat your friends try to make you stay but at the end you say your good nights and you walk out of the bar. You step outside, the cold air hitting your cheeks. You wrap your coat tighter around yourself, shivering.

„Nice coat," he says, his voice low and measured, standing close enough for you to feel his warmth in the cold night air. , making your breath catch. "You walked out pretty quick." „well you threatened me frank“ you hiss. A ghost of a smile plays on his lips, his eyes glinting in the dim streetlight. "And you listened. Smart." He steps closer, invading your personal space. „Look frank“ you start turning to him. He leans in closer, his face mere inches from yours, his breath mingling with the cold night air. "Save your breath. I know what you're going to say." His voice is soft but intense, filled with a frustration he can barely conceal. "We broke up."

„so why do you keep doing this!“ you say confused and angry. His eyes flash with an unreadable emotion, his jaw clenching. "Because you leaving doesn't change the fact that I'm still here, does it?" He gestures around them, indicating the empty street, the cold, his presence. "You think I can just forget?" he sighs „well maybe you shouldn’t have done the things you did and it wouldn’t came to an break up“ you spit back.

His face darkens, his expression pained. "You think I don't know that?" He pauses, his breathing heavy. "I messed up, okay? I messed up so fucking badly." He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. You look away „and now you‘re stalking me and sending me thousands of messages“ she says. He lets out a short, bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Stalking is a strong word. I prefer 'desperately trying to talk to the woman I can't get over.'" His voice drips with sarcasm, but there's a genuine hurt underneath.

you shake your head. „i‘m going home“ you say now starting to walk away. In the blink of an eye, he's in front of you, blocking your path. "For fuck's sake," His voice drops to almost a whisper, but the intensity behind it makes it seem louder. "Don't you get it?" He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. „what?!“ you say a little louder

His eyes snap to yours, dark and dangerous. He lowers his voice again."You know what? Forget it." He mutters, his shoulders stiffening. "Go home." He steps away, giving you space to leave. you look at him for a second. and then decides to start walking again. „fuck you“ you mutter under her breath.

You think you've finally shaken him off. You're about a block away, the cold wind nipping at your heels, when you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. You ignore it, thinking it's just a late-night passerby.Then you hear the footsteps get closer. They echo loudly in the silent street. You tell yourself it's nothing, but you can't shake off the feeling that they're getting closer. Your heels click on the pavement, the sound mixed with the echoing footsteps behind you. You hug your coat tighter around yourself, shivering again. You want to turn around and look, but you were also to scared.

As soon as you insert your key into the lock, you feel a presence behind you. You turn the key, pushing the door open, but before you can step inside, a strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back against a hard chest. You almost let out a scream but he clamps a hand over your mouth to muffle any noise, pulling you back into his arms. He kicks the door shut behind him, enveloping you both in the darkness of your apartment.

You panic trying to get the person off you.But then he switches the lights on. Frank. The sudden light blinds you momentarily. You blink rapidly, trying to focus as Frank releases his hand from your mouth and spins you around to face him. He's standing there, breathing heavily, his eyes wild and intense.

You push him away. „Are you fucking insane“ You almost scream. He staggers back from your push, but his smirk doesn't falter. "Maybe," he admits, shrugging casually. "But I've never claimed to be sane." He leans against the wall, crossing his arms. "Especially when it comes to you."You try to make your heart pump at an normal rate again „leave.“

He chuckles lowly, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer to you. "And go where?" He tilts his head, his eyes roaming over your face hungrily. "Back to my empty apartment? Back to my lonely life without you?" He shakes his head. You take a step back. „frank.“ You warn. He follows your step, closing the distance between you again. "No, no," he mutters, his eyes flicking between yours. "You don't get to warn me off after what we just had outside." He reaches out, grabbing your wrist before you can back up any further.

You collide with his chest. Almost immediately you try to pull away from him. He tightens his grip on your wrist, watching as you struggle. "Damn it," He mutters softly, his expression unreadable. "You're like a cat. Always trying to escape." His jaw clenches as you push against his chest again. "Stop fighting." „Leave frank. you had your chance we’re not together anymore“ You say angry. His expression darkens, and he lets out a harsh breath. "You think I don't know that?" He growls, his grip on your wrist loosening slightly but not releasing you entirely. "But seeing you out there, acting like nothing happened—it fucking kills me."

His gaze locks with yours, raw pain and frustration etched into every line of his face. The silence stretches between you, charged with the weight of what was and what could have been. "You moved on so fast," he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with emotion.You didn’t. You were acting like it sure. But deep inside you knew you still loved him no mather what. His eyes search yours, as if looking for any hint that you're still holding onto him. He swallows hard, his thumb unconsciously stroking your wrist. "You act like you don't miss me," he accuses, his voice barely controlled. "Like I never meant anything to you." He was trying to make her feel bad now like he always did. „Don’t do this“you say slightly.

His face twists, a mix of anger and hurt flashing across his features. "Don't do what?" He demands, his voice rising. "Don't try to get back the girl I fucking love?" „you love me? then why would you do things like that“ you spit out. "Because I'm a fucked up soldier with anger management issues," He snaps back, frustration apparent in his voice. "And because I pushed you away when everything in me was screaming to hold on tighter." His voice breaks slightly. "Because I'm an idiot."

He watches you look away, his heart heavy with regret. He knows he fucked up, royally. But seeing you now, after so long, he can't bring himself to just walk away. "Say something," He prompts gently, his thumb still absently caressing your wrist. „I don’t know what to say anymore.“ you say quietly Frank is silent for a long moment, absorbing her quiet words. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes never leaving her face. "Say you hate me then," he murmurs, his voice low and strained. "Tell me to go to hell. Anything but that silence."

„no“ you say shaking your head. Something inside him breaks at your soft "no". He steps closer, his forehead nearly touching hers, voice barely a whisper. "Then say you miss me, just once. Tell me I'm not the only one fighting this fucking battle alone." His free hand comes up to cup your cheek. „fank…“ you say. His thumb brushes over your lips, silencing you. His eyes search yours intensely. "Don't say my name like that," he warns, his voice hoarse. "Don't look at me like that“ „like what?“ you almost whisper but he shill heard you.

His breath catches as he stares into your eyes, seeing the same love and longing he feels reflected back at him. "Like you still fucking love me," he growls, his hand sliding from your cheek to tangle in your hair. "Like you want me to kiss you."You sigh looking at him through hooded eyes. Frank's heart pounds in his chest as he watches your reaction. He can see the war raging inside you, the push and pull between what you want and what you think you should feel. "Don't do that," he says, his voice ragged.

„i can‘t- we can‘t“ you says trying to convince yourself. His grip on you tightens slightly, not out of anger, but out of desperation. He leans in closer, his lips almost brushing yours as he speaks. "Why the fuck not?" He challenges, his voice low and intense. "Give me one good reason why we can't do this." „we‘re not together“ you say ,again. "Fuck being 'not together'," he says roughly, his face inches from yours. "I'm tired of doing the right thing where you're concerned. I'm tired of pretending I don't want to kiss you right fucking now." His grip tightens more, pressing you against his chest.

His eyes drop to your mouth, watching as you unconsciously lick your lips. He growls softly, his body tensing. "One good reason," He murmurs, his lips nearly touching yours. "Just one why I shouldn't pull you closer and kiss you."You open your mouth to say something but nothing leaves your lips. He takes advantage of your open mouth, not giving you a chance to speak. He closes the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a brutal, angry kiss. He kisses you like he hates you, like he loves you, like he can't get enough. He breaks away briefly.

He's breathing heavily, his eyes blazing with intensity as he looks at you. "One reason," he repeats, his voice strained. "One fucking reason why I shouldn't keep doing this." His lips are back on yours before you can respond, this time softer, deeper. He smiles against your lips, a rare, genuine smile. "That's the problem, isn't it?" he says, his voice low and satisfied. "You can't give me a reason because there isn't one." He kisses you again, slower this time, savoring the feeling.