I know that nobody asked for this, but I wrote it anyways. Find my AO3 in my bio or search my masterlist with #raewroteit
Her hands run over his broad shoulders as he rolls them, lulling his head from side to side to get loose. Her eyes bare into his - they have the same fire, the same intensity. She looks like she could go out there and fight just as well as he could. Maybe that’s why he loves her so fucking much. Her fingers lift to the curve of his neck, creeping up to his nape and intertwining with the short little hairs that rest there. He leans forward, pressing his forehead to hers.
“You ready?” Her voice is light, the way most feminine voices are, but her tone is heavy, dripping with power and pulsing with determination. “Frank, answer me.”
“You know I am.”
“Then show me.” She’s barely got her words out by the time his lips meet hers, passion and fire and electricity and everything that makes for a goddamn explosion. Her hands are in his hair, gripping harder than before, trying to unlock that little thing that makes him who he is. They can hear footsteps approaching, but that’s never stopped them before. Prefight rituals aren’t easily adjusted.
“It’s about that time.” The voice comes from Curtis, and when Frank pulls away from his girl, he can see the truth to that statement; everyone in his corner is gathered. It’s showtime.
She smooths down Frank’s hair, brushes off his pullover before pulling her own hood over her head. The team walks in synchronization, damn near militant as they hit their mark. And when the announcer croons the name “Frank ‘The Punisher’ Castle,” hoods are up and the show is on. No smiles or niceties. She isn’t in a pretty dress, waiting in the audience for her baby to win. No, she’s right there in his corner, the same skull on her hoodie as he dons on his shorts. She doesn’t wait for him to win, she’s the reason he wins.
So when he steps in the ring, he’s ready. He always is. He takes off his hoodie, tossing it to the side. The crowd is noisy, but he can barely tell. His mind isn’t on it. His mind is never on it. He’s mapping out his first move, and then the one after that. Right hook to the body, switch it up with a southpaw to the face. Get him on the ropes and don’t let him up. It’s a game, and he’ll win. He always does, because she won’t let him do anything less.
The fighters touch gloves, a sign of mutual respect even though someone is about to get the fear of God knocked out of him. As Frank takes a step back, he sneaks a look into his corner. Curtis is already watching like a hawk, ready to coach him for any mistake he might make. But her - fuck, she looks ready. She’s eyeing Frank like she’ll knock him dead herself, and he’d let her.
A bell signals the start of the round, and Frank shuts out everything around him. Back to autopilot. Back to the game. The fighters in the ring dance around each other for a few seconds, sneaking in for testingly soft jabs and weaving back out. Frank knows this maneuver - he watched this guy’s fights. Puts up light work for the first three rounds to distribute his energy better. He’s done the math - this fight should be over by round 5. Frank can only hear the sound of his own breathing as he moves in for a right hook to a body, knocking the other boxer off his rhythm. He switches his stance fully, going southpaw for a left jab to the face, following it with another right body shot. The fighter stumbles back, tries to lock his arms under Frank’s before the referee breaks it up. Frank wastes no time, firing uppercuts to the body to get the fighter on the ropes.
The world slows down. The only sounds that the Punisher can hear are of his own making - his breaths huffing out against his opponent’s skin, his own heart thrumming against his ribcage, his gloves slamming into the fighter on the ropes. And then a voice: feminine. Light and heavy. Powerful and determined. “Stop playin’ with him, Castle. Let’s do some killin’.”
You can find this on my AO3 along with all my other fics (link in bio), or search #raewroteit.
A = Aftercare
Aftercare and post-coital cuddling are very important to Frank. To him, they’re a part of the sexual act; he would never neglect or ignore someone after sex, no matter the context. He’s touch starved, so he’s going to take every moment of that tired bliss and use it to be as close to his partner as humanly possible, making sure they’re comfortable and feeling okay physically and mentally.
B = Body part
Frank has never really thought about the parts of himself that he likes. Everything about his body reminds him of how dangerous he can be -- his hands and arms and chest. He’s all boxy and brute strength. Maybe his thighs are okay. He likes the way they ache after leg day and the way his partner loves getting themself off by rutting against the strong muscle.
As for his partner, there’s not a single part of their body that Frank isn’t totally enamored with. The swoop of their neck is the perfect place to bite, leaving marks that they’ll try to hide in the morning to no avail; their jaw is sharp and always ready for the kisses that Frank never fails to pepper across it; their chest is Frank’s favorite pillow; their hips were made for him to hold on to; their legs are soft and what’s between them is even better. Frank is completely obsessed with his partner’s body and making sure they feel as beautiful as they are.
C = Cum
Frank isn’t typically one to be very fascinated with cum, so he doesn’t have a particular preference. It would really be up to his partner. He wouldn’t have any qualms with cumming inside them or in their mouth, but if their partner wanted it somewhere less vanilla, like on their chest or ass, Frank might need some convincing. He’s usually a pretty clean person, so this might gross him out a little. It would take some getting used to, but if Frank knows that his partner enjoys something, it’ll excite him too. Their pleasure turns him on more than anything.
D = Dirty Secret
Frank has always wanted to have outdoor sex with his partner, but he’s too nervous to ask. It seems so outlandish to him -- so nasty and simply not his style, but he can’t push the idea of fucking his partner against a tree out of his head. He loves the outdoors and he loves his partner. Having them both at the same time would be heaven to him.
E = Experience
To be honest, Frank isn’t the most experienced when it comes to sex. He lost his virginity in high school to his only serious girlfriend. Then there was Maria. Then that one night with Beth. And now his current partner. Sure, he’s had sex plenty of times, and he knows what he likes, but he hasn’t been with many people, so first experiences are often awkward and trying. But once he gets to know his partner, what they like and how they fit together, everything would be smooth between them.
F = Favourite Position
Contrary to popular belief, Frank is the Softest man in the world and also a Bottom. His favorite positions are whichever ones allow maximum skin on skin. He wants to hold hands, kiss lips, squeeze thighs, and caress hips. He loves to have his partner on top and in control of their own pleasure.
G = Goofy
For the most part, Frank is serious. But with someone he loves, he allows himself to be more vulnerable and simply enjoy the moment. Sex can be awkward, and Frank has no problem with laughing it off and moving on. He likes when his partner throws out jokes spoken through moans. They laugh out of breath, they smile into kisses. It’s love. It’s safe for him to be himself here.
H = Hair
He’s a military man. Frank keeps himself well groomed, trimmed but never shaved.
I = Intimacy
There is no one on this earth who values intimacy more than Frank Castle. Sex is really important to him — he’s in it for love and his partner’s gratification, not his own selfishness. Sex is intimacy in his book. He wants every time to be something special because he wants his partner to be able to feel exactly how much he loves them.
J = Jack Off
Frank is used to long periods of time away from his significant other, so he (as most are) is well versed in the art of self stimulation. He’s not a huge fan, though. For the most part, Frank only jerks himself off when he’s stressed or in need of release. Of course, there are nights when his significant other is on his mind and he’s in no position to see them any time soon. On those occasions, he’s got plenty of mental images (and maybe some physical ones, too) of his partner to get him through the night.
K = Kink
Listen. That’s just not who he is. It’s been said before: Frank gets off on satisfying his partner. If there’s something that they like or really want to try, Frank would love to do it for them. Anything that would make his partner happy will make him happy.
L = Location
He’s an old fashioned kind of guy. Nothing screams romance like Frank picking up his partner bridal style and getting them to the bedroom. He likes the couch and sometimes even the kitchen table when things are more light. It doesn’t really matter to Frank where he is as long as it’s somewhere comfortable for his partner and they can be in private.
M = Motivation
His partner. The way they smile and the way they pout when they’re not getting what they want and the way they don’t put up with any of his bullshit. Once Frank falls in love, he falls hard. That man is someone brand new when he’s with someone who makes him happy. It’s not hard to get Frank excited. Anytime his significant other does something that tugs at his heartstrings (literally every twelve minutes), he can be ready for action.
N = NO
Obviously, if it’s not something that his significant other wants, he’s not gonna touch it with a ten foot pole. But for himself, Frank isn’t a fan of painful punishments for his partner or degradation in any form. It feels too similar to the things he did when Agent Orange had his team torturing and killing innocents. He doesn’t ever want to bring violence home to his lover.
O = Oral
Everyone likes getting sucked off, but Frank’s kink for his partner’s satisfaction makes him prefer giving head. The way their hips arch up off the bed and he has to hold them down to keep his angle right, the soft sounds they make just as they near their climax, the way they wrap their thighs around his head to keep him there (as if he was going anywhere). He loves everything about it.
P = Pace
While Frank is never too rough with his lover, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t he doesn’t know how to pace himself. He’s an expert in the art of the deep stroke and will never cease to remind his partner of it. Maybe he’s more vanilla and less adventurous in the bedroom, but he’s got his partner memorized to a T and will do everything that they’ll love every time.
Q = Quickie
Frank doesn’t always have a lot of time on his hands. Between his partner’s fairly normal life and his own rather turbulent one, he doesn’t always have the time or energy to take them to bed as often as he would like. So a nice quickie before his partner goes to work in the morning or in the shower before he goes out for the night is good for the soul.
R = Risk
Experimentation is one thing, but risks are another. Frank would try lots of things (albeit hesitantly) if his partner was intrigued by the idea. Risks, though, aren’t for Frank — not here. He wouldn’t touch them in public or risk getting caught by their friends. The most obvious reason for that is his being a wanted criminal, but more than that, he respects the dignity of his partner too much for it. Also, he’s a jealous son of a bitch and would shoot someone in the face if they were looking at his partner in a way that is designated for his eyes only.
S = Stamina
Let’s be honest — Frank has acquired a lot of injuries throughout his adult life. These as well as his age and basically constant state of exhaustion all play a part in his stamina not being the most spectacular. He can last an average amount of time, but his partner shouldn’t expect multiple rounds in one sitting. Two times in one day has happened, but it was hours apart.
T = Toy
Frank isn’t a huge toy enthusiast during his sexual encounters with his lover, but he does encourage them to have toys of their own for when he’s not around. Frank knows that he’s gone more often than not, and he wants to make sure that his significant other is being taken care of no matter what.
U = Unfair
Although it’s not very often, when Frank teases, it’s not in an unfair way, but a playful one. Even so, he learned how to delay orgasms when he realized how much Maria liked it, so it’s something he’s comfortable with and pretty good at. He doesn’t see that as teasing, though — that’s a different thing entirely.
V = Volume
Frank is not a particularly loud person — he doesn’t moan, exactly, he talks. He may not know much, but one thing he’s sure of is that his voice is sexy. The occasional grunt and growl would be punctuated with phrases of encouragement and pleasure. (Take it. Just like that. Fuck, you’re so good. Take me so good. Don’t even deserve you. Fuck, I love you.)
W = Wild Card
Frank Castle is a goddamn teddy bear. After sex, he’s wrapped like a koala around his lover. He’s heavy and his grip is tight and he’s emitting so much body heat, but his partner doesn’t have it in their heart to tell him to move. This is Frank at his most vulnerable. It’s when he’s in this position that he’ll talk about anything — Maria and the kids, his own childhood, war stories. Anything that’s on his mind. Anything that his partner asks about. He feels so safe here.
X = X-Ray
Everything about Frank Castle is big. His dick is no exception. He’s about average length but thick. And he knows how to use it.
Y = Yearning
His sex drive isn’t too crazy — he’s getting older and he’s never been any kind of sex addict. But he can pretty much always find it in him to want it. Nine times out of ten, if his partner wants him, he feels the same way. If Frank’s at home all week, then they’re probably going three or four times.
Z = ZZZ
There’s horror behind his eyes. Sleep never comes easy for Frank, and after sex is no exception. Exhausted as he may be, he finds it hard to rest. He’d rather hold his partner and talk with them until they fall asleep. Maybe he’ll be able to rest his eyes for a couple of hours.
Spoilers for TWD seasons 8 and 9!! Enjoy this fluff drabble with slight angst. You can find this piece on my AO3 (link in bio) or by searching #raewroteit.
The sound of running water is one of Rick’s favorites. Not a stream or flowing river, but the sound of the tap or the shower as water spurts out of the faucet and pads onto whatever surface rests beneath it.
That sounds stupid, he knows, but it’s true. It’s domestic. Steady. It drowns out the sounds of whatever’s happening outside. It makes Alexandria feel like a real home. From his spot on the couch, Rick can hear the shower running across the hall in the bathroom. Michonne’s been in there for a while, and he can imagine her tip toeing around the water so as not to get her hair wet. The thought alone is enough to make him smile, running a hand down his face. His fingers stop along the rough beard that covers his cheeks and chin. It’s long enough for him to stroke contemplatively now, although Carl would probably have very choice words for his father if that ever happened.
Speaking of the devil, the teen walks into the room, bandages in his hand to use for his eye. “So I’ve been thinking,” he starts, setting the wraps down on the table and trading them for a rubber band that he can use to tie his hair back momentarily, “I wonder where I could find an eyepatch.”
Rick snorts, looking up at his son in disbelief. “An eyepatch?” He repeats, skepticism clear in his voice.
Carl doesn’t seem to notice (or care); he wraps the bandage around his head and over his eye with the finesse of someone who’s been doing it for a while (he has). “Yeah. I mean, you don’t have to change an eyepatch every day. And it wouldn’t cover up my whole face like this does.”
Eyepatches remind Rick of the Governor, and that’s probably the last person he wants to have on his mind right now. He doesn’t speak, but his face seems to relay that message to his son. He has a knack for using facial expressions to communicate full ideas. Carl gets the point, sighing as he takes his hair down, ruffling it up a bit. “Just thinking out loud.”
Rick shrugs, hearing the shower stop running. “Y’ain’t ever said anything about an eyepatch till now,” he observes. “Why’s it important to you?” The younger of the two doesn’t respond, his face growing red. Is he blushing? That makes it pretty obvious. “What, Enid?”
Carl groans, moving quickly toward the door. “I gotta go,” he says, rushing to grab his gun off the mantle and get the hell out of there. Once the door shuts behind him, Rick lets out a full laugh. But, shit, it’s good for Carl to be around girls his age. Last time there was someone like that in the group was… fuck, it had to have been Sophia. And God knows how that turned out. Regardless, Rick is glad Carl has someone to spend his time with. The world’s different, but some things never change. Kids always have to grow up.
Michonne leaves the bathroom in a tank top and jeans, her hair still up in a messy bun. She smiles at Rick, walking past him and heading straight for the kitchen. “Did Carl leave?”
“Just now,” Rick answers. “Judith’s asleep.”
Michonne doesn’t respond, but she leaves the kitchen with a knife, a lemon, a jar of honey, and a bowl. By now, Rick knows what this means. He watches as she cuts the fruit, squeezing the juice into the bowl and adding honey from the jar. “You know, you gon’ have to teach me how to do that one day.”
The woman narrows her eyes, full lips curving up into a confused smile. “Do what?”
Rick gestures to the bowl, taking it and swirling his finger in the mixture the way he’s seen her do it before. “Twist your hair. I could help you, y’know, so you don’t have to do it all by yourself.”
Michonne laughs softly, one of those ‘this white boy drives me fucking crazy’ kind of laughs. She pulls one of her locs from her ponytail, covers her fingertips with the honey mixture, and spreads it over the root of her loc. “No, you don’t have to do that.” She rolls it roughly between her palms. It’s like using a stick to start a fire, Rick notices. Yeah, he can do that. Simple. He gets off the couch, sitting behind her and dipping his hand in the bowl.
“So what do I do with…” Rick trails off, his fingers catching on new growth that isn’t in a loc.
“Just use the honey to stick it on the dread it’s by. And then roll it like I’m doing.” Michonne finishes one and moves on to the next. “And you better not pull too hard, either.”
They fall silent as they get to work on her hair, and Michonne finds herself impressed by how few times he fucks up. After a while, Rick speaks up. “You think we’d be able to find an eyepatch somewhere ‘round here?”
Michonne turns toward him, just long enough for him to see her scrunched up nose, then turns back around. “What, you gonna do a Governor cosplay?” Her tone lacks humor; she sounds disgusted.
Rick puts her at ease. “It’s for Carl. He doesn’t like the way he looks with that bandage over his face.”
The dreadhead snorts, starting on another loc. “Since when does that boy care about how he looks?”
“Since there’s a girl around who might care,” Rick answers, a hint of excitement in his tone. “It might be good for him.”
Michonne shakes her head. “If she likes him, she’ll like him with that bandage on his eye. I don’t want my son changing himself for anyone, let alone some stupid girl…” She trails off, only hearing her own words after she’d spoken them. “Shit, I didn’t mean that.”
Rick drops the loc in his hand, his gaze fixed somewhere far away as he shakes his head. “No, I - I know what you meant-”
“No,” Michonne says firmly, turning completely to face Rick. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
The man is quiet for a moment, a thumb and forefinger coming up to rest at the corners of his mouth. His hand drops down to his lap as his eyes meet Michonne’s. “We’re a family.” The woman opens her mouth to respond, but Rick shakes his head again. “We’re a family, Michonne.” They sit in the moment, not quite sure what just happened, but not ready for it to end. Rick doesn’t know what marriage looks like in this world - with Glenn and Maggie it was one conversation. Rick can’t tell if that’s the one he just had with Michonne, and he doesn’t care to think about it either. She finally nods, turning around and working on her hair again.
They don’t ever talk about what was said that day. There’s no reason to. Because after everything - after Carl dies and after Rick dies, after RJ is born and after Judith grows into her own person, Michonne knows that it’s true. The Grimes family is just that: a family.
Labor Day = Pay Attention to Your Significant Other
This (and all my other fics) can be found on AO3 @/punishers or by searching #raewroteit.
Or: Frank Castle is baby and Karen Page is busy.
This never happens, so you really can’t blame Frank for being excited.
It’s rare that he ever gets time to relax. This isn’t news, really - he’s never been the person that could just sit around and do nothing. When he was younger, his body ached for the opportunity to go out and do more dumb shit and get himself into more trouble. And once he met Maria, he was always moving nonstop, trying to do something to impress her. Buy her some flowers even though he knew she’d wind up killing them, watch her favorite movies so they could have something to talk about that he knew she’d enjoy. With the kids, Frank was the Best Dad, always ready to play. It seemed like they were always right there with another story line for Sunday afternoons - Frank, Jr. and his favorite toy fire truck and Lisa in her princess costume. Frank was constantly playing a role, and the character of the Father Who Has No Fucking Idea What To Do But Is Trying His Best was his forte.
In Afghanistan, Frank was all go, go, go, and the times when he had nothing to do were worse than the frantic moments he spent dodging bullets. He plucked at his guitar strings until his fingers were raw - he didn’t mind it as long as he had something to busy himself with.
And now, with his new… ‘line of work,’ Frank never gets time off. Sick days don’t exist. He spends the daytime writing plans and researching his next hits, and his nights are spent carrying out his missions. He comes back to whatever hole in the wall he’s calling home, rests and heals as much as he can in a 6 hour period, and then starts the whole thing over again. It’s life on autopilot, and there’s not much room for anything else.
That’s why Frank was so goddamn terrified when he fell in love with Karen Page. Beyond the obvious dead wife issues, she was an amazing woman, worthy of all his time and attention, and that simply wasn’t a commitment he could make. That’s when he learned a valuable lesson: Karen Page is a Strong, Independent Woman who is busy enough as it is and she couldn’t care less about his little date nights and romantic gestures.
Maybe that’s why they work so well together. Nothing matters - not how long they’re apart or how long it’s been since he got a phone call from her. They love each other too much to give a fuck.
And on one lucky Labor Day, Karen is home from work and Frank has minimal plans for tonight’s Punishing.
And this never happens, so you really can’t blame Frank for being excited.
Unfortunately for him, although Karen is sitting on his (mildly blood stained) couch, she’s not paying him any attention. Instead, she’s tapping away at the keys of her laptop, working on her next paper for the Bulletin. Frank’s on the couch next to her, his eyes glazed over as he watches reruns of The Office. (She always watches it whenever she comes over. Frank isn’t a huge TV watching guy, but Karen likes it so much that it’s kind of grown on him.) He’s been making little noises, shifting his body weight to get her to notice him. Eventually, he’s had enough.
“Hey,” he says in a quiet voice, his middle finger poking at her side. He moves again, this time so that he’s lying down on his back, the top of his head pressed to her outer thigh. Frank can feel the heat off the computer in Karen’s lap, but he’s not worried about that right now. “Ma’am-”
“I’m busy,” she says, the last word nearly a whisper. Karen’s gaze flicks down to meet Frank’s, her eyebrow quirking up in warning.
Hmph.
Frank whines again, huffing sadly (you know, like the Punisher does). “First time we been able to hang out in weeks and this is how you treat me?”
Karen juts out her bottom lip, looking down at Frank with a sympathetic look. “I know. Look, give me three hours, okay?” Frank’s unimpressed expression prompts Karen to flash him her best puppy dog eyes. Not for long, though - soon enough, her eyes are fixed on the screen once again.
If Frank knows anything - if he’s ever known anything in his entire life - he knows that he’s not going to survive three more hours with no attention. So he does what any other person would do. He makes the most logical decision he can come up with.
“Can I just eat your pussy?”
Listen. Frank is a simple man. He has a very short list of hobbies and talents. Giving head, however, falls in both categories. It’s a means of pleasure for himself and for Karen, so he sees this as a win-win situation. There’s no way she’ll say -
“No.” What the fuck? “Did you not hear me say I’m busy?”
Frank is already getting down on his knees in front of her, his hands resting on her knees. “You can be busy. I’m trying to make myself busy, too.” She makes a sound of protest, but he cuts her off. “There’s no effort on your part here. Can I just - c’mon, girl.”
Karen stares down at Frank, trying to keep a straight face although she wants to laugh in his desperate attempt for some kind of physical attention and affection. She lifts the computer off her lap, placing it on the armrest of the couch before sliding her pants and underwear down to her ankles. “Go nuts,” she tells Frank, the top half of her body pivoted so she can continue working. “This better be worth it.”
Frank can hear the rapid taps of the keyboard as his lips attach to her clit. He swears he can hear her inhale sharply, but he can’t tell for sure. He’d never really noticed how much concentration it takes to give good head until now. The fact that he knows that she’s not paying any attention is bothering him. It’s almost making it less fun, but as he continues, he eventually hears little whines from her and gains his confidence back. Is it the most enthusiastic and satisfying head he’s ever given? Not by a long shot! Was it worth it? He thinks so!
Frank sits back when (s)he’s finished, wiping her slick off his face and licking his fingers and lips. “Thank you,” Karen says softly, a sweet smile on her face. She doesn’t bother pulling her pants back up before she sets her laptop on her thighs and continues working. “But you’ve gotta go now.”
Frank’s mouth falls slack. “Okay, now hold on-”
“That was for you. That was for your benefit. I told you I was busy.”
“This is my house, Karen!” He’s whining now, his voice ticking up in pitch rather than dropping lower as it does when he’s moved by anger.
Karen doesn’t respond. It’s probably because she couldn’t give less fucks whose house it is. She has a paper to get finished. Frank can respect that. It doesn’t stop him from walking away slowly, his head drooped down and his steps tiny and shuffled. It also doesn’t stop him from jerking off the hard on he acquired while pleasing Karen. At least he has time for a nap while she works.
