celestialglow24

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– taste by sabrina carpenter

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Frank Castle — 3 AM

++Please do not repost!++

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Jon Bernthal on Real Ones

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I like that Frank is the type of man who will pretty much kill for you but he’d neeeeevvveeerrrr do that shit in front of you. Some guy grabs your ass at a bar? Frank plants a kiss on your head, guides you back to the table with your friends and drags the guy by the collar out back to punch his lights out.

Your ex is texting you nonstop? Frank runs you a bath, brings you an icy cold seltzer and picks up your next book from the library before paying your ex a visit and reminding him why he will not be texting you anymore.

Like he is the absolute softest, kindest man to you and that includes not stressing you out about how he handles things.

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JON BERNTHAL in American Gigolo S01E05 “The Escape Wheel”

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The Kiss™️

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It's a silly poll but I've seen it pop up left and right over time in tags and fics, so I'm curious.

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REAL ONES with JON BERNTHAL S1 E13

BONUS BAM BAM GIFS:

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Jon Bernthal as Frank Castle | The Punisher 2x05

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frank and his hairstyles over the years

reblog and write in the tags your favorite style + why!!

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Kiss it Better - Frank Castle x Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

A/n: Hey all! So this is heavily based off of that ask an anon sent me about Frank being the softest man in bed. So one day I had a terrible morning and sat down and started this. So voila- smut! Enjoy! 

Summary: He thinks he’s death, but you know differently. He is gentle kisses, lips finding home on your skin, the soft murmur of affection. He is big warm hugs, arms wrapping around you and promising protection from the world. He is the soft admiration that sparkles through deep expressive brown eyes, yelling out praise and compliments. Frank Castle is love. And he loves hard. 

Warnings:  NSFW! 18+! (Minors dni!). f!reader, dry humping, fingering, mentions of oral, some nipple play and tit sucking, smut (p in v), mentions of size kink

Frank is a tit man- you cannot change my mind. 

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Your key slips into the lock and as you turn it you can hear the mechanical click and the promise of entrance. The door opens and you let your bag fall to the floor, too heavy for your tired shoulders and too unimportant for your seemingly never ending headache to care about.

An overdue sigh falls from your lips and you slip out of your heels, letting your toes wiggle and bask in the newfound freedom, even as your arches ache and your heels feel paper thin and all bone. Your coat falls from your form, tossed haphazardly across the back of a chair to your left. The soft blouse you wore all day coming untucked as you reach behind your back and unclasp your bra, letting it fall into the pile of abandoned constrictions growing at your feet.

It was a hard day. One of those ones where it only feels like it can get worse and as if nothing works correctly. Everyone seemed snappier and crueler, the world itself felt heavier. All you could think about all day was slipping on pajamas and crawling under the security of your covers, sleeping away your worries under fuzzy blankets and warm sheets.

You pass through the apartment, headed straight for the bedroom and stopping in the doorframe. There on the bed, with left arm tucked under his head and right holding a book atop his chest, lies the one person who could change this day.

Dark brown eyes lift from worn and yellowing pages to meet your tired glance, they fill with sparks of adoration and recognition, but his eyebrows furrow in worry.

You don’t give him time to say anything, rather flopping down on the bed beside him and loudly groaning.

“Rough day?”

His voice is all rumbly, gruff from not being used the entire day and yet still instantly flooding you with serenity. His presence washes over you in waves of warmth, brightening your tired eyes and calming the piercing throbs in your head.

You lift yourself off the mattress and snuggle into his side, his eyes never leaving your own as you lift a leg, your pencil skirt riding up your thigh, finally resting it over his.

“You could say that.”

His neck strains as he stretches to lean down and press a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry baby.”

You softly smile and close your eyes, letting your senses be filled with him, nuzzling into the cotton of his shirt and breathing in the leftover cologne and spice that never seems to leave him. He’s so cuddly. The perfect size to curl up next to and feel hidden away from the stresses of the day. The perfect ratio of strong muscle and pliant flesh to wrap your hands around and slide your body against. The perfect temperature to be compared to a space heater or a heated blanket, enough warmth to provide you heat even in an icy tundra.

“I’m home now.”

Keep reading

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JON BERNTHAL as MICHAEL BERZATTO

THE BEAR | S01E06: Ceres