PUNISHER

[contritioned]

#𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗘𝗗. An independent, selective, sporadic activity interpretation of FRANK CASTLE better known as THE PUNISHER. NMCU-based only, no comic influences. Selective in adding MCU-based muses (see rules for details.) Mature content ahead.

⁰¹ playlist. ⁰² prompts. ⁰³ graphics credit. ⁰⁴ permanent low activity notice.

𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑑: @darkdevour, @stingslikeabee, @kataireo, @castlevowed, @wid0wd

*please do not follow if your blog is for harley quinn or bucky barnes.

blogroll: @sierra6x, @lnsknndy, @insinkingcities

[darlingshane]

Frank Castle in a green hoodie THE PUNISHER: ONE LAST KILL (2026)

[darlingshane]

Jon Bernthal as Frank Castle THE PUNISHER: ONE LAST KILL

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

ONE LAST KILL COUNTDOWN by @darlingshane | Day 19: Love

[contritioned]

@redemptioninterlude// rue.

[xxdrixx]

@darlingshane ONE LAST KILL COUNTDOWN | Day 14: "Stare" THE PUNISHER: ONE LAST KILL (2026)

[contritioned]

I want you all to look me in the eye right now. Make eye contact with me. Look. View my peepers.

That scar on Frank's neck in DDBA? The really nasty one, the new one?

He superglued it shut.

[theotherkingdoms]

i. Kaveh Akbar, "My Father's Accent" from Pilgrim Bell | ii. Hayley Williams, "Simmer" from Petals for Armor | iii. Sjohnna McCray, "Portrait of my Father as a Young Black Man" from Rapture

[kataireo]

@contritioned / cont.

When he talks to her, he sounds an awful lot like the asshole she'd accused him of being.

She's right where she wants to be, a fixture against the brutalist architecture, and from this spot she finds it equal parts frustrating and endearing that Frank acts like he did any of this. True enough she'd stormed in looking for a fight, but the argument was only pretext. A dare. Bait, which he'd taken hook, line, and sinker like she knew he would. Frank hadn't pushed her anywhere ; Karen had reeled him in.

She's angry, and despite the shift in how she's expressing it, it shows in her every move — the collision when maw meets maw a bruising admission of love, her claws at his torso the staking of a claim. She feels like an animal. Rage at the world for being shit underlies it all, but in truth it's the sort of anger borne from the pain of caring. Their occasional phone calls had served as a tenuous mooring when the wake of her grief pushed her out west. The onset of another crisis had drawn her back, like the negative storm surge heralding a tsunami, and what had she come home to?

The facade of a fresh fade and aftershave, for one. It made her want to cry at the effort and scream at the deception. His reaction to her admonishment that night was enough to confirm everything she suspected. Losing Foggy, Matt taking a bullet for their greatest enemy, and every single thing about the way Frank has been operating — it's all a slap in the face. It's an unspoken admission that she isn't worth living for. How dare he risk leaving her? He, who should understand best of all?

A jolt shoots right through the center of her from the teeth at her throat. Karen falters for a second, but her hands are made stronger in her resolve ; all that grip-strength training suddenly doesn't feel so stupid. Her catch isn't going anywhere, she's decided ... use two hands, never let go.

"I know." She retorts, breath so hot against the crook of his shoulder she almost feels smothered by it herself. The cheek, to talk her through it before it has even started.

There's a little grunt when she hoists one final time, teeth sinking into the scar on his neck meanwhile, and finally overcomes the button-and-zipper prison. And then, barring where he's already pressed against her, she doesn't even touch him there. Not yet. Karen can be an asshole, too. One finger hooks the elastic of his boxers while the other hand snakes into his hair to wrench his head back. Despite everything, she still looks at him like he's good for her. And then the thing that would kill her to ask of anybody else, voice husky with need. "Take care of me."

[contritioned]

He was a jealous man.

There were a lot of really ugly shades to Frank, honestly. Jealousy was probably one of the worst. It made him something of a bully in his youth, but he would have been one without the sin to guide him. The fact of the matter was -- he didn't want to share Karen, and he knew he had no choice in the matter. Red was going to be a part of her life whether or not he accepted it, but accepting it was the rough bit. Was it childish, the way he turned her away from helping him after he'd shown up and did his piece to assist? Sure fucking was -- but in the cold light of it all, the jealousy had turned him jaded and he remembered that he meant what he said the last time they'd seen one-another: she deserved better than him. He couldn't be upset when she stuck around it, right?

Wrong, really. Very wrong.

So it's anger that drives her, and his own masochism him. It's the harsh pull of his hair that has him exhaling a grunt, that has hunger in his eyes with the way he searches her face when she forces him to. It's the words that escape her lips that soften the gaze immediately to something that only Karen fucking Page can pull from him now. Once he had those stars in his eyes for a wife, for a daughter, for a son; those people didn't exist anymore, and he had nowhere else to put the love. So much fucking love, so much. It was a worse scar than any of the myriad of marks on his body. So he'd sink it into Karen, then remember that his crusade would get her killed. Then he'd push her away and be mad at himself -- at her -- for it, for listening. Then he'd rinse and repeat.

"Yeah."

The agreement is soft, betraying the way he spoke before, the way he teased at her for having a rough time with the zipper. The nod following is the punctuation to the remark, and he means it with everything he's capable of. Of course, of course I'll take care of you. You're my girl.

Except, not really. But maybe, maybe he can pretend right now.

The follow-up kiss is soft, despite her fingers peeling him back. It's the seal on the promise that he'd do that -- take care of her -- in the way he forces a gentleness that seems all too foreign for the Punisher. His own hand finds the apple of her cheek, thumb set to trace the line of her jaw, then the bow of her lips, and with his forehead back to hers he gives another small nod.

"Yeah, of course. I'll take care of you."

Another sweet kiss. Another. And they steadily become less gentle and more possessive again, more hungry in the way he moves his lips against hers, presses his tongue to hers, tastes the reminder of her coffee and steals the warmth of her mouth. He'd apologize for the way the fresh stubble scraped against her chin but he doubted she'd complain about it, instead he pulled at the small of her back with her free hand to bring her forward, to mash their hips together and cram the hand at the band of his boxer-briefs between them flush.

Because if he couldn't fucking say he loved her out loud, he'd do his best to show her. In his own fucked up way.

[contritioned]

FOR THE FIRST TIME, AS LONG AS I CAN REMEMBER, I DON'T HAVE A WAR TO FIGHT.

𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗘𝗗: independent, selective, mutuals only, private rendition of frank castle aka the punisher. not comic friendly, nmcu based only. ©

AND I GUESS, IF I'M GONNA BE HONEST, I JUST ...

---𝐈'𝐌 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃.

[bernthalized]

JON BERNTHAL as Josh SHARP STICK (2022)

[contritioned]

you’re so hard that i need two hands to get your zipper open.

He hovered with purpose. Trapped in the confines of his bunker where he'd been recycling his own air for a little too long, it was good to finally have company he wanted; not Red busting in and making accusations -- demands -- but Karen and all of her moxie. Maybe it was a bit bold of him, in the midst of an argument, to push into her space and finally kiss her in earnest -- but it paid off. A large part of him hadn't expected her to reciprocate, not with the gnashing of words and the usual third degree of worry that came out like spitfire. But here they were; all heady breathing, roaming hands, needy mouths.

Hell, he'd gotten a shave and a cut when he knew he was going to see her. Nobody could say Frank didn't put his own twisted effort into it.

The worst part was: she was right about it all. He was more careless than usual, more reckless. He chewed painkillers to push through the fights and wanted someone good enough to put that sweet end to him. They never could, they never did, but they tried. And Karen, oh, she wanted that happy ending for him. Bless the stars in her eyes for thinking he deserved it.

But it didn't matter in the moment. Not with how he kissed her so hungry he'd swear he'd never eaten a day in his life. Not with the way he pushed up at the hem of her shirt to feel at the warmth of her stomach with rough palms. He'd had her trapped between him and the wall near his shitty little cot where he could pull at her without the notion of escape, but when she dove hands between them and created that little but of space he paused -- because if she didn't want it, or changed her mind, he wouldn't fight her on it.

Instead she pawed at the hard length of him, the insistence that he'd rutted against her moments before, and her breathy commentary had a chuckle pulling from his chest. He always sounded gruff and gritty, but this was like dragging over rubble and glass, a chime all his own that filled the space between them. Forehead pressed to hers, Frank watched her work at his belt, then strain against the button of his pants for some leverage against the zipper of his tact slacks. What could he say? He'd wanted her for longer than he could really remember.

"You’re so hard that I need two hands to get your zipper open."

"Yeah, yeah. You got me all hot and bothered, sweetheart. That's for damn sure."

Not that he'd make it any easier on her. Distraction in the form of a too-many-times broken nose buried against the line of her jaw and Frank offered a harsh bite in exchange for her hands; a roll of his hips into her working fingers that would ultimately make her grip less steady. Patience was never a virtue of his, and it certainly wasn't now. He chuckled again, tongue trailing a line where red welts from his teeth blossomed,

"Come on. You can do it."

[anarchyrpbook]

LIGHTS OUT ── SMUTTY EDITION a roleplay sentence meme with various smutty quotes and sentences taken from navessa allen's lights out. feel free to tweak as needed. content warning: foul language, sexual content

this man is always coming onto my FYP and never on me, and that is a tragedy.

stop that. bad hand. we’re not doing this.

i know i’ve already told you this a thousand times in so many embarrassingly inappropriate ways, but you have a beautiful body.

that video you sent me was such a tease. is that what you’re like in real life?

i have no regrets about publicly claiming you.

i knew you’d be big.

you’re so hard that i need two hands to get your zipper open.

will you behave if i put the knife down?

i won’t do it if you don’t promise to be a good boy.

i see the knife kink goes both ways.

this is something i’ve dreamed about for months.

are you accepting applications for a third?

i’m not going to deny myself a chance to touch you just because we’re in a fight.

i can’t tell you how many times i’ve fantasized about doing this.

please, god. don’t let her have a fisting kink.

if we weren’t in this car, i would deep throat you until i choked.

if you keep interrupting me, i’ll never find out what you taste like when you come.

but i don’t wanna go to bed! i want to stay up late and get railed!

i’m a little worried about your plans for me.

no safe words, you want me to stop, just say so.

i want to feel you come. 

i want to feel you brand my throat where you hand just was, marking me.

you can always tell me to stop.

shhh, i know, baby. you’re doing so good.

let go, i’ll catch you when you fall.

hello, boobs, i’ve missed you.

you’re soaked, baby. you should see the way you glisten.

i thought i’d need to work you up to take this, but you got there on your own.

i’ve spent so much time watching your videos that the second i see you, my body is just... ready.

every time i see you, i’m gonna know you’re wet for me.

it might be this blindfold, but i don’t see the problem here.

my leg will go out if you do that again.

what the fuck are you sitting still for, i told you to ride it.

can you be a good girl and give me that?

let go, i’ve told you, i’ve got you, baby.

you got a real creepy vibe going on right now, and i don’t know if i should be worried or turned on. never mind, my body figured it out.

stay right here, or i’ll decide its time for your punishment.

i need to go slow to keep from hurting you.

your noises aren’t for anyone but me now.

that’s twice now that you’ve broken a promise to me. i hope you can handle the consequences.

i’m not too proud to admit that i’m in so much pain that i don’t think i can worship you the way you deserve right now.

you’re beautiful when you’re scared.

you’re so wet, i don’t even need lube.

if all it took was a little light spanking to get you to say that, i would have bent you over my knee the first time we met.

just tell me to stop, and i will.

[disgustinggf]

don't let my tits distract u from the fact that i'm not ok in the head

[nilkadnaquada-deactivated202307]

don't let the fact that i'm not ok in the head distract u from my tits

[xxdrixx]

@darlingshane ONE LAST KILL COUNTDOWN | Day 11: "Friendship" The Punisher Season 1 Episode 12 - Home

[contritioned]

I just really fucking love Frank.

[contritioned]

That visceral hatred that Frank has in regards to Billy is only because he loved Billy so much. That was his brother, that was his best friend. That was the uncle of his children. He would have died, hands down, for Billy. He would have and did kill for him. He would have burned every bad thing in Billy's past if it set his mind right in the now.

And Billy set that shit on fire. It's what Frank deals with - not only the loss of Maria and the kids, but that Billy knew. Had a hand in it. That he was part of that orchestration. People who loved him. Frankie loved him. That was his brother. Their bond was unshakeable, something he could not express in words.

Part of that anger, that rage he feels toward Billy is disappointment in himself. That he trusted. That he let Billy in to such intimate parts of his life. That he didn't see it coming.

Frank loved Billy. And Frank hates himself for it.

[wnq-writers]

“My knees are scraped from all the times I have been knocked down by life. My knuckles are bruised from all the times I have fought my way back onto my feet.”

— raywritess