#braxton wolff

[deanfreakingwinchestr]

[kastlechic98]

GENUINELY SEDATE MY ASS FUCKING HELL

(this man is so fine I will not shut up about it)

[stabbyanomaly]

Braxton is literally Christian’s guard dog. Their father trained them both since they were kids, but Braxton’s role as guard dog, protector, and vulture is very clear. That his purpose is to defend his big brother. To follow him, to nip at his heels, to dog his footsteps. He cleans up after him. Braxton thrives on being of service to his brother - it’s his purpose. That’s why being cut out so abruptly destroyed him. Why did his owner abandon him? Has he not been good? Does his brother not want him anymore?

Was Braxton not a good enough dog?

[witchbitchlovesdilfs]

Hey Doll

Frank Castle x reader

synopsis: four different time frank greats you like you're the only thing that matters

vibes: fluff, angst, comfort

warnings: suggestive, injuries/blood/suggested violence, (vaguely mentioned) reader is attacked, alcohol, language

words: 1.48k

notes: i love this one and hope you will too!

“Hey doll,” he says cheekily. 

You roll your eyes as Frank Castle slides into the booth across from you. “Hi Frank.”

He rests his elbows on the table and looks at you with a lazy grin. “Did you find the place okay?”

Scoffing, you cross your arms and slouch in your seat. “Frank, I work here.” You motion down at your attire: the required restaurant t-shirt and a pair of jeans. 

He snickers, leaning back and manspreading. You glance down before jerking your eyes back up. The grin on his face just grows; of course he caught you looking. “How was your shift?” he asks, sincerely. 

You groan. “Fine. Lots of rude customers, the usual.”

“Need me to beat anyone up?”

Your eyes widen at the seriousness on his face. “No, don’t go assaulting people for me.”

Alyssa, one of your co-workers, interrupts to get your orders. She departs with a wink. You flush, and Frank notices. He leans close, too close, and you can feel his breath against your face. “Are you scared of me?”

Determined not to let him know the effect he has on you, Exhibit A being the growing wet splotch in your painties, you lean even closer. “Why?” you ask seductively. “Do you want me to be?”

“Damn,” you barely hear him breathe before he’s moving back again. He shifts in his seat as you settle against the seatback. 

“Here you go,” Alyssa says, putting down your sodas and meals. Frank picks up a fry and fiddles with it. 

“How was your shift?” you ask quietly once Alyssa’s gone. You’re one of the few in-the-know when it comes to Frank’s “job”, although he wished to keep you as far from the business as he could.

“Fine,” he mimics you. “Lots of rude customers, the usual.”

“Are you hurt at all?” you ask, concern flooding your face when he rolls he shoulders.

Frank shakes his head. “Just tired, is all.” He stares at you softly. “Don’t you worry about me.”

“I know, I know,” you say, hands flying up dramatically. “You’re a big man; you can take care of yourself.”

Frank dips the fry in a big pool of ketchup. “Damn straight.”

You laugh. “Careful, Frank Castle,” you say, leaning forward again and plucking the fry before he can eat it. “Or I might just fall in love with you.”

“Hey doll,” he says tiredly. 

You look up from the book on your lap, breaking out into a smile. “Hey Frankie.”

The door shuts behind him as he kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his combat vest. The Punisher just finished another job. Frank Castle just came home to you. 

Finally comfortable and relieved from the weight of his armor, Frank moves to lock his guns away, always leaving a single pistol on his person. He plops down on the couch next to you with a huff.

“Look at me,” you say, putting your book to the side. Frank turns his puppy dog eyes your way, and you brush the hair from his face. He’s nursing a fresh black eye, you note, and his nose might be broken again. Your eyes drag down, checking for other injuries. “Anything serious?” you ask, standing to get the first aid kit in the bedroom’s bathroom. 

“Nah.” Frank follows you, looking down at the blood on his clothes. “Blood’s not mine.” He stands patiently as you gently pull his shirt over his head and help him slide out of his pants, leading him to sit on the bed. You nod, silent as you kneel beside him. Frank shifts so his body’s angled towards you. His body is beginning to bruise, but you don’t see any stab wounds or bullet holes. 

Frank looks up as you place everything down and leave, staring at the doorway until you come back with a bottle of whiskey. “For the pain,” you say, handing it to him and returning to your spot on the bed.

“Thanks” he grunts, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig, gulping graciously. 

You take the hand towel you recently wet in the sink and wipe away the surrounding around his nose. He has a cut on his forehead; you clean around that too. 

“Does it need stitches?” he asks, head cocked to keep his nose from bleeding any more.

You touch the skin around the cut, and Frank curses. “Yeah,” you say sympathetically. 

“Don’t fuck it up this time,” he says, but there’s no malice in his tone.

You snatch the bottle out of his grip and take a sip. “Don’t squirm, and I’ll try my best.”

“Hey doll,” he says carefully. 

You’re laying in bed, back turned to him and the doorway, curled into a ball with the sheets pulled all the way up to your chin. You don’t turn as the bed shifts and Frank sits behind you. There’s shuffling, and then his hand - hesitantly, faintly - rests on your side. You sniff.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t know why, but you weren’t expecting him to apologize. He was so adamant about being right three hours ago, shouting about how you “just didn’t understand” his way of living and storming out without his phone. You don’t know why, but you didn’t expect him to give in.

“I’m sorry I’m such an asshole,” he continues, and his hand begins to rub small circles when you don’t pull away. “I shouldn’t have said those things - shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

You move into his touch - just barely, but he notices. “But you did.”

He nods. “I just - Christ, sweetheart, can you look at me?”

You hesitate. Your eyes are red from crying, and you know Frank will spiral when he realizes he made you cry. 

Frank senses this hesitation. “Please?” he pleads, and his voice cracks. 

You give in instantly, turning onto your other side so you’re looking at each other. Frank moves his hand to cradle your cheek, and you see that his eyes mirror your own: they glisten with tears  both shed and unshed. 

“Jesus, doll,” he says, letting go of you and rubbing a hand over his face. “I made you cry. I promised I’d never hurt you, and I made you cry.”

“Hey,” you snap, sitting up and taking his face in your hands. Your faces are mere centimeters apart; you can hear his heartbeat as it beats out of his chest. “I forgive you.”

Frank looks away from you, tilting his head to get out of your hold. “But I-”

“No,” you cut him off sharply, shaking him gently. “I hurt you too. So we’re even, okay?” You slide back down until your head is resting upon a pillow and pat the mattress next to you. “Just lay down and cuddle me.”

Frank's eyes are hazy with guilt and regret, but a shroud of love and relief begins to erase the worry in his expression. He shifts to rest beside you, and you instantly move into his arms. 

His breath hitches as he presses his face into your hair. 

“I forgive you,” you whisper, nuzzling closer.

And he believes you.

“Hey doll,” he says sadly.

You begin to lift your head, but Frank is quick to stop you. “Hey,” he says, easing you back down, “don’t do that. You’ll tear your stitches.”

That’s when you feel it: a sharp, throbbing pain against your skull. Your right arm is hooked with monitors; you move your left to feel your head. “Did they…shave my hair?”

Frank nods. He’s in a chair next to the hospital bed, leaning forward so much the back chair legs are off the ground. 

“What happened?” you ask groggily, letting your arm drop. 

Frank puts his hand over yours. “You got jumped. I found you in the parking garage.”

You start to piece it together. “I got hit in the head.”

He nods. “Did you see him? The guy who did it?” Mixed with the worry in his expression is anger, hatred, for the man who hurt you. 

You shake your head, groaning at the pain it causes. “But there were security cameras, right?”

“You don’t worry about that, sweet thing,” he says, patting your hand. “I’ll find him. Make him pay for hurting my girl.”

You smile weakly. “I’m thirsty.”

Frank nods rapidly and moves a water bottle into your peripheral. It has a long, purple straw sticking out, and Frank maneuvers it so you can tuck the straw between your lips. You take several savory gulps before letting him take it away. 

“How’s the pain?” he asks, setting the bottle down.

You shrug. “I’ve had worse.”

“I’ll see if they can give you more morphine.”

You smile, and Frank pauses, tilting his head at you in confusion. “What?”

“I just love you,” you say, moving your hands so you're holding his. You squeeze.

He squeezes back. 

[xxdrixx]

@bernthirst-events ✨Braxton Wolff✨ Jon Bernthal as Braxton Wolff in The Accountant²

[halfway-happyyy]

2025 masterlist ✨️

i do not give permission for any of my works or their included components to be copied, translated and or/reposted.

*i don't specify the age gap in my writing, but in my mind, reader is in her mid 20's-30's.

currently writing for:

jon bernthal characters: frank castle, braxton wolff, mikey berzatto

a million mornings (drabble)

Frank Castle x reader:

an attentive scorpio lover (drabble)

more attentive lover drabble

frank takes a bath with you (drabble)

salvation (oneshot) (18+)

old soul lover (drabble)

frank has a nightmare (drabble)

frank removes your makeup (drabble)

frank lays it all out on the line for you (drabble)

frank takes you to a wedding (drabble)

grumpy !boyfriend frank (drabble)

the aftermath of a fight with frank (drabble)

frank talking you through it (drabble) (18+)

fumbled, sleepy morning sex (drabble)

frank takes his girl on a scar tour (drabble)

Achilles' Heel (series) (18+)

the sunshine and the storm (drabble)

roadtrip HC's with frank

cutting frank's hair and beard (drabble)

more frank talking you through it (drabble) (18+)

period sex with frank (drabble) (18+)

soft frank things

frank with a kitten hc's

frank introduces his girl to his blind lawyer (drabble)

more cat-daddy drabbles

wasted on each other (oneshot) (18+)

reader adopts franks mannerisms (drabble)

washing frank's hair (soft drabble)

frank catches you watching punisher thirst traps (drabble)

overstimulating frank (drabble) (18+)

loves notes in frank's lunches (drabble)

asking frank for a dick pic (drabble) (18+)

fall with me (oneshot) (fluff)

frank with a girlfriend who tinkers/makes gadgets (drabble)

!boyfriend frank with reader who's going through a depressive episode (drabble)

thinking about frank's lap (drabble)

frank and his diner girl (drabble)

more soft scar drabble

reader comes out to frank as bi (drabble)

frank with a reader who needs music to sleep (drabble)

nsfw hc's - (18+)

frank's oral fixation (drabble) (18+)

sunday morning vignettes - (18+)

the one where frankie doesn't fit (drabble) (18+)

frank smokes a joint (drabble)

frank send a couple of dirty text messages (drabble) (18+)

frank lets his girl tie him up... (18+)

frank takes care of his girl - stoner edition (drabble) (18+)

frank with someone who loves anything spooky 👻🎃 (drabble)

frank whose partner is an artist and loves drawing him (drabble)

frank with a partner who loves naps (drabble)

cuddle up the devil (oneshot) (18+)

frank loves spicy food (drabble)

frank taking photos of his partner (drabble)

heatwave hc's

frank with a blunt partner (drabble)

datenights with frank (i)

reader carves a pumpkin for frank (drabble)

the one where reader has an oral fixation (drabble) (18+)

frank with a heavily tattooed reader (drabble)

phone sex with frank (18+)

i'll be seeing you (angsty oneshot)

taking racy polaroids for frank (drabble)

breakfast for dinner (fluffy drabble)

fluffy christmas headcanons

more gift-giving with frank (fluffy drabble)

spicy sunday part 1 (18+)

gifting frank a st christopher medallion (drabble)

protective!frank headcanons

frank offers to get a vasectomy

massaging frank's hands and feet

a cozy new year's eve with frank (drabble)

a quick study on frank castle's hands

birthday sex with frank (18+)

frank when you're sick hc's

frank with a reader whose down on their luck (drabble)

Michael Kinsella x reader (KIN 2021)

will you think of me later? (oneshot) - Mikey Kinsella x reader

Michael (Mikey) Berzatto (The Bear 2022-)

My Sun, My Moon, and All of My Stars (oneshot)

long long time (mikey as a first-time dad, drabble)

domestic mikey blurb

NSFW mikey headcanons

NSFW mikey blurb

Braxton Wolff (The Accountant 2016 / The Accountant 2025)

reader indulges brax's oral fixation (18+)

Josh (Sharp Stick 2022)

spicy sunday part 2 (18+)

[golden-grapes]

Drabble: Braxton's oral fixation (18+, Braxton (The Accountant)/AFAB!Reader, fluff, smut, vague gesture at an age gap, finger sucking, cunnilingus)

So obviously this man has an oral fixation. The lollipops, the peanut butter spoon, the ice cream scene. How he can’t stop talking, rattling off bantering quips even in serious situations. You know and love it. Braxton likes to keep his mouth busy at all times, and that takes on several different connotations as you get to know him. 

You make a habit of carrying candy on your person whenever you spend time with him. Every time you see him starting to get antsy– shifting around in his chair, fingers drumming on the countertop– you offer him something. 

“Want a Dum Dum?” you ask. 

Holding the lollipop out to him, twirling the stick between your fingers enticingly. He turns to you, a flint of a smile. 

“Thanks.”

He plucks the candy from your hand and unwraps it in a blur, tucking the dome of sugar directly into his cheek. The stick lolls between his parted lips, his throat bobbing and cheeks hollowing as he sucks. You can’t help the flush that rises in your cheeks at the sight of it. It’s impossible to deny that one of the reasons why you keep the lollipops on hand is because he looks damn good with one in his mouth. 

You giggle. 

“What’s so funny?” Braxton asks. 

Turning to you with a dark eyebrow cocked in curious interest, and that tug of a smile is back. Giving you goddamn butterflies without even trying. 

“Wouldn’t eating a Dum Dum be considered cannibalism for you?”

Braxton scoffs out a laugh.

“Oh fuck off, kid.”

“I told you not to call me that,” you intone with a frown. 

You’re not that much younger than him, but he never lets you forget his additional years of experience whenever he’s got the chance. When Chris isn’t around, he likes to cling to his elder status as much as possible. 

“Noted, kid,” he responds.

Braxton never settles anywhere or with anyone for long, but he's quick to get used to you and your offered confections. He'll never state it outright, but he always appreciates the thoughtfulness of the gesture. Can’t tell when you picked up his habit, or that it even was a habit in the first place, but you’re keen. You notice, and it’s like you can read him better than he can read himself, sliding him a sucker whenever he’s nervous.

You’ve practically Pavlov-ed him as a result. Now every time he sees you, his mouth starts watering. Thinking of all the sweet things you can offer him. 

So it’s no surprise when you find out that his mouthy disposition carries over into the bedroom. Braxton learns your body through his mouth. Nibbling your earlobe. Raking his teeth over your jaw. Leaving love bites all over your throat and chest, which you always chastise him for the next morning, but also never ask him to stop doing. He catches you once, examining your reflection in the foggy mirror after a shower, tracing the mottling marks with the tip of your finger as a smirk tugs at your lips. 

You’ll never forget the first time you slide your thumb into Braxton’s mouth in the heat of the moment and the growl that sounds through his chest in reaction. He’s sitting against the headboard, hands gripping your hips as you ride him, and you swear you feel his cock twitch inside you in response.

“You like that?” you ask. 

He doesn’t need to say a word for you to know he loves it. You look down to find his gaze has gone all doe-like, big dark eyes shining with reverence as he nods. 

So you bear down harder, with your hips and your hand, coaxing your finger farther back against his tongue, pressing into the soft muscle. It doesn’t take long before you’re both cumming, his hands gripping your hips so tightly it almost aches, the gloss of saliva following your thumb as you pull it slowly out of his mouth and bring it down to his chin to wrench him in for a sloppy, sated kiss. 

And when he’s in charge? Prepare for that mouth to ruin you. Braxton’s favorite thing to have in his mouth is your cunt. No contest. He’ll get you pinned on the mattress, burly forearms locked down over your stomach, and suck on your clit until you’re swearing you can’t take it anymore. Back bowing off the bed as another orgasm tears through you, wailing his name towards the ceiling. 

“Brax, please–”

“Sh, sh, sh,” he’ll hush you, resting his cheek against your thigh. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart. She’s fucking weeping for me.”

It’s astonishing just how wet you get on nights like these, slick with your arousal and his spit, so wet you can feel it cooling against your thighs, see it shining on his chin, sense it soaking into the sheets below. You twitch as Braxton drags his index fingertip through your slit, collecting the evidence of his words and bringing it to his lips. 

“Taste just as pretty as you look,” he’ll tell you. 

You’d be surprised at how, even when his mouth is busy, Brax still manages to run it to the moon and back. It’s as maddening as it is pure lighter fluid to the smoldering heat between your legs. He starts to lower his face again and you can’t contain the mewl of tortured need which spills from your throat. You hands snatch into his hair for some sense of stability, tugging it between your fingers.

“I can’t take anymore, Brax,” you babble, “can’t…”

Braxton smacks your inner thigh, his touch just firm enough to counter your indignance. 

“Oh you poor baby,” he mocks you, smoothing his palm soothingly over the tender skin. “Are you really gonna complain when I’m being so good to you? I think you should come again, just to prove how grateful you are.” 

“F-f-fuck off,” you stutter, head collapsing back against the pillow in sweaty defeat. 

But with your hands still in his hair, you find yourself tugging him closer. A rumble of approval sounds through Braxton’s chest as he readjusts his grip on you, gathering your cunt close to his mouth. 

“Suck it up, kid,” he says with a smile, and you can’t fight your own as he goes back in for another taste. 

[raven-black102]

Revenge

Imagine being Francis Silverberg's daughter and dating Christian Wolff.

"Hey, pops." (Y/n) greeted as sat at the table with her father and his close friend Christine Wolff. "Chris." (Y/n) added with a smile causing Chris to smile slightly and nod her head. "Hey, sweetheart." Francis greeted his daughter while Chris looked down at the table slightly. "Any luck with the feds?" (Y/n) asked softly knowing what would happen if her father get out this prison.

"No. Those idiots won't listen to me. And you don't pick me up till a week later okay." Francis told his daughter sternly causing her to sigh. "I was lucky enough they don't know I have family. I plan on letting it stay that way." He added causing (Y/n) to look at Chris for help. "H-his right," Christian said causing (Y/n) to sigh and gently place her hand above Chris's arm but not touching him without his permission.

Chris smiled slightly and gently moved his hand upwards and gently took (Y/n) hand. "When are you two gonna marry and have a wedding?" Francis asked smiling happily at Chris and (Y/n). "Dad. Don't think a wedding is needed for marriage." (Y/n) grins at her father and gently squeezes Chris's hand. "Yes, most marriage end in failure especially with one partner is a prisoner," Chris said causing (Y/n) to look and him and give her full attention.

"True but most of those relationships lacked patience." (Y/n) added causing Chris to nod his head. "Study found that 46% of incarcerated people in Ohio lived with a spouse or partner before entering prison. Nationally, data indicates that 44% of men incarcerated in state prisons were either married or living with a partner at the time of their arrest." Chris added causing Francis to huff.

"The success rate of relationships during incarceration is low, with studies indicating a high likelihood of marriages breaking up." (Y/n) added causing Chris to chuckle. "Great way to set the mood down more." Francis joked causing (Y/n) to laugh. "I learned from the best." (Y/n) joked then frown slightly as the officers come in the visiting room. "Times up." The officer said causing (Y/n) to sigh and nod her head. "May I hug my dad?" (Y/n) asked the officer causing him to sigh but nod his head.

"Take care, Dad. Please keep an eye on his Chris." (Y/n) said softly hugging her dad not knowing it would be the last time. Then gently kissed Chris's cheek. "I'll talk to King for you okay Dad." (Y/n) said softly before following the officer out. "If you get out before me son. Take care of her will you?" Francis told Chris as he helped lead Francis out of the room to their block. "Of course Francis." Chris nodded agreeing with the old man.

Time Skip

"I'm sorry for your loss." Ray King said to (Y/n) as she stared at the burned body of her father. "This is all your fault. If you would have listened! If you would have cared! I would still have my Dad! You killed him!" (Y/n) yelled running to attack Ray King only for him to hold her close and let her hit him. "I know. I know. I know." Ray King mutters taking every hit as (Y/n) sobs and screams.

It only took 10 minutes for (Y/n) to collect herself before looking back at her father. "Don't come to me. Don't talk to me. I want nothing to do with any of you people anymore." (Y/n) rasped out as she felt herself starting to shock in rage. "Get out. I-I need to be alone." (Y/n) said softly causing King and the ME to leave the morgue. "I'm sorry Dad. I'm so sorry." (Y/n) cried gently taking her father's cold hand and ignoring the hole that was on it.

(Y/n) quickly whipped her eyes and she felt her phone vibrate. "(Y/n)." (Y/n) said softly not bothering to look at the Caller ID. "Hello Ms. Silverberg." A woman's voice said causing (Y/n) to strengthen up. "Justine." (Y/n) called with a small smile. "Is Chris okay?" (Y/n) asked and waited patiently. "Yes, his at you house waiting for you. I'm sorry for you lost (Y/n)." Justin said causing (Y/n) to bit her bottem lips. "Thank you. I might need help getting there fast, I don't want to crash due to my state of mind at the moment." (Y/n) said softly as she then kissed her father head before leaving the morgue and building to get to her car.

"I'm on it," Justin said as (Y/n) smiled softly seeing green lights. "I know Chris doesn't tell you this but I will. You are the best Justine." (Y/n) said softly then hung up.

Time Skip

"Chris." (Y/n) called as she parked her car on the side and ran to the entrance door. "(Y/n)... is it true," Chris asked softly as (Y/n) stood close but not enough. "I wish it wasn't. But I saw him... it had to be them." (Y/n) said softly as Chris awkwardly wrapped his arms around his partner. (Y/n) bit her bottom to as she nuzzled herself closer to Chris and wrap her arms around his waisted.

"Can I come with you?" (Y/n) asked causing Chris to move away slightly. "I've been practicing as you showed me. I-I want them to pay for what they did." (Y/n) said causing Chris to look away slightly. "Justine has found them," Chris said as they pulled away. "I'm ready." (Y/n) said softly.