Relationship: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader
Fandom: The Punisher
Rating: Teen and Up
Word Count: 739
Summary: It's all in the title really
Prompt: Celebrate, kiss
I'm ending the year with a special dedication to the @pornstache-club. I'm still not into it, but Jon as Blake in “The Unforgivable” has warmed me to the idea of Jon with a mustache. @darlingshane mentioned how he looks a lot like Frank, and since I agree, I decided to give Frank a mustache. Forgive me, all you fellow stache haters XD.
Happy New Year, Everyone!
You're in the kitchen and finishing the preparations of tonight's dessert when you hear Frank walking in, bare feet tapping on the wooden floor.
“Need any more help or can I go shave now?” He asks from behind you.
“Shave?” You whip around, spatula in hand, some pastry cream flying off it and to the ground. “Crap,” you mumble as you squat to wipe the drop away.
Standing, you find Frank watching you with raised eyebrows and an amused expression.
“Why would you shave?” You ask again, putting the utensils away for now.
“Maybe so our friends can see my face?” Frank chuckles, scratching over his beard, which, admittedly, has gotten rather long.
“People can see your face just fine… But you could… trim it?”
“Nah, that would take forever to get just right. And it's startin' to itch a bit anyway.”
“But…” You trail off, not knowing what else to say to make him change his mind.
“It'll grow back, you know.” He approaches you and puts his hands on your lower waist; you lift yours to put them on his shoulders. “I'll give you more beard-burn next year,” Frank grins with a knowing look, making you slap at his chest with a playful gasp of outrage.
“Fine… if you must.” You sigh dramatically and push him towards the bathroom, the man chuckling as he walks off.
You resume working on the dessert while you hear the beard trimmer buzzing to life. You don’t know how much time passes, but you’ve just put the cake in the fridge, when Frank comes back.
“Hey, how about I keep this for tonight?”
You had already been turning towards him while he’d been speaking, so you burst out into loud laughter even before he’d finished his sentence.
“What have you done?” You wheeze, staring with wide eyes at Frank with… a goddamn mustache.
Frank’s eyebrows lift as you keep giggling, a hand over your mouth to stop the sounds, but it’s rather useless.
“I meant it as a joke, but it’s not that bad.” Frank strokes his index and thumb over the mustache, from one end to the other, in a swiping motion.
“Frank,” you snort. “It’s a pornstache, is what it is.”
You laugh even harder at your own observation and see Frank mouth the word “pornstache” with a frown.
Frank rolls his eyes with a snort.
“Alright, Smartass. Gonna shave it off before you come up with any more names for it.” Frank turns on his heels and walks back to the bathroom.
“You’d have been a hit in 80s porn,” you shout after him, wiping tears from the corner of your eyes while you still laugh sporadically.
“Funny,” Frank deadpans in answer, making you snort again.
It’s barely two minutes later when Frank comes back with an expression halfway between amusement and exasperation.
“Looks like I’m gonna greet our guests like this.” He waves a hand in front of his still mustache clad face. “The battery’s dead and it takes at least an hour to charge enough for me to get rid of this.”
You blink a few times as you take that information in. Your friends are supposed to arrive in two hours, and you hadn’t finished preparing the table and drinks yet, things you’d intended to do with Frank.
“So this is the face I’m going to have to kiss to welcome the new year?”
“You don’t have to.” Frank crosses his arms and looks down with a shrug.
You look properly at Frank now that you know that the mustache was going to stay until at least the next day. You usually don’t like them. You love beards and Frank’s in particular, but a mustache doesn’t fit every man. You let your eyes drift over Frank’s hair, slightly longer than he wears it most of the time, the soft strands having been casually combed back by his hand. The night blue Henley he’s wearing highlights his skin and suddenly, seeing his searching eyes and his fingers swiping over the facial hair hesitatingly, you can’t help but smile fondly.
“You know what?” You say as you approach him, linking your hands behind his neck to get his attention. “I actually don’t mind it. It’s still your face, and I love it… You.”
The small smile playing at his lips echos on your face before Frank leans in to kiss you sweetly.
Coming Up Roses (10657 words) by neatmonster
Chapters: 9/9
Fandom: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Frank Castle/Karen Page
Characters: Frank Castle, Karen Page, Sarah Lieberman, David "Micro" Lieberman, Brett Mahoney
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, it's kinda like a rom-com with very explicit love scenes, frank has a beard, tragedy free frank, Fluff and Smut, Kastle Freeform, small mentions to other characters, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and a few heavy moments, Dogs, gun mention, frank is a suave motherfucker longing for love, mishmash of daredevil and the punisher
Summary: This takes place during Daredevil’s S2 but Frank never becomes the punisher cause he never married or had kids. Karen, on the other hand, is still haunted by her past. She’s reluctant to date again after having to deal with Matt and what’s going on at that point in her life but Frank quickly changes that.
Pairing: Frank Castle x GN!Reader
Fandom: The Punisher
Rating: E 🔞
Word Count: 2k~
Summary: Frank looks stunning in his new clothes, and you just want to get your mouth on him.
Warnings: oral sex (male receiving)
Jon's latest photoshoot gave me this idea. I think it says enough about how much I liked the pics, yeah? XD
Your leg is jumping where you’re sitting in the back seat of the cab that is driving you home. Frank is sitting next to you, his thigh touching the one that isn’t bouncing continuously. You haven’t said a single word since leaving Karen’s birthday party, too worried that whatever would come out of your mouth would be highly inappropriate for the back of a cab.
You’re pretty certain that the taxi driver must have seen their fair share of weird and crazy stuff happening in this back seat, but you refuse to be part of that list. No, you’d been able to hold yourself back through the whole party, so a few more minutes weren’t going to kill you. Or so you’d thought, at least. You hadn’t thought about the fact that Frank would be sitting so close to you with one of his large hands on your thigh. He’s not doing anything with it, but the simple weight of it on your body is doing unspeakable things to you at the moment.
You bite over the pad of your thumb as you look out the window, checking the street names to see if you’re close to your apartment yet. You also try not to look at Frank any more than you have to, not wanting your resolve to shatter right before you are getting home.
You take in a sharp breath as Frank’s fingers tighten over your thigh. The pressure isn’t strong, but you want those hands somewhere else, squeezing that bit harder. You can feel the last shreds of your patience falling away, your body already turning to Frank, when the driver stops you by speaking and the car coming to a halt.
“Here we go,” he says before announcing the price for the drive.
As fast as you can, you retrieve your wallet and hand the money over to practically throw yourself out of the car right after and hurry to the entrance of the building ahead.
Frank is behind you a second later, pushing the heavy glass door open after you’ve typed in the digital code. Once inside the lift, you press the button to your level and lean against the wall. Your hands fidget, wanting to reach for Frank so badly, but not now, not yet. You only have to wait a little more. Frank isn’t making it easy on you, however. And why would he? He knows exactly what is going on in your head and enjoys himself immensely as he tries – and succeeds – to rile you up further. Like he’s been doing all night and doing now by pressing closer, standing right in front of you and leaning into your space. He’s not touching you, but he’s so large, his presence so intense, that it’s like you can feel him anyway.
The elevator dings and the metal doors slide open after some very long seconds that tear at your sanity. You’re out of the lift and at the door to your apartment in no time, cursing when you remember that Frank is the one who has the keys. The bastard is taking his lovely time walking over, his hands deep in the pockets of his slacks and highlighting his-
You tear your eyes away with a force of will that you didn’t know you still had and look in front of you, tapping a heel on the floor in frustration. Frank sidles up to you and opens the door, walking into the apartment with slow steps.
As soon as the door has fallen shut on you, you fall to your knees in front of Frank, who has already turned to face you, smirk in place over his smoothly shaved face.
“A bit impatient?” He dares to ask, and if you weren’t as turned on as you are, you’d have a biting reply ready for him. But you are turned on, incredibly so, meaning that you can only nod as your eyes drift over him to take his appearance in once more.
Frank had opted for simple clothes, yet they are so beautifully tailored to his features, that they highlight him perfectly. The chocolate colored shirt he’s wearing has a zipper that, fully opened as it is, shows the top of his chest. The material stretches over said chest, showing off his pecs and giving you the urge to grab them. The shirt is already doing things to you, but the dark slacks have been driving you crazy all evening. As simple as they are, they sit around his strong and long legs nicely, but the best part is that they’re so well-fitted that they span deliciously over Frank’s ass and his crotch.
You can’t explain the intense reaction that you are having towards his appearance tonight. It isn’t like you’ve never seen him well-dressed before. Just like having seen him naked several times as well. You know what to expect. And yet here you are, on your knees and desperate to open those pants and reveal him to you. The bulge, apparent even soft, has been teasing you all night, and it’s getting worse and worse as it’s getting bigger, Frank’s cock thickening behind that barrier of clothes.
“Please,” you breathe, your hands reaching for the fastenings of his slacks.
Frank takes a step back with a click of his tongue.
“Hands behind your back. It’s only your mouth tonight,” he instructs, voice rumbling and making you shiver at the directive tone.
You comply without a word and look up at him expectantly.
“There you go, Sweetheart.” He opens the top of his pants, the belt-like fastening slightly tricky to open, but stops there. “You want it? You gonna have to work for it.”
Swallowing thickly and emitting a small noise at the want running through your body, you shuffle forward on your knees and lean in to try and catch the top of the zipper. You manage to get it between your teeth on the third try, the tiny metal piece making it harder to seize just right, and pull it down. You’re instantly greeted by his dick, coming to slap you unexpectedly in the face. You are taken aback for a second because Frank rarely goes commando, but it also explains why you’d been able to see so much of him tonight.
“You did it on purpose,” you accuse him, suddenly realizing that Frank must have known how you’d react. Your words lack any heat, though, at least not the heat that is running through you.
Frank’s answer is in the form of a smirk. You swallow thickly, your breath catching at his show of confidence. Frank knows you so well.
Taking himself in hand, Frank presses the tip of his cock against your lower lip, dragging it down slightly and smearing some of his pre-come over it. You reflexively poke your tongue out to catch more of it, groaning at the taste of him.
“Now, open your mouth, Sweetheart, and show me that tongue,” Frank orders casually, but his eyes never leave your face, scanning your every expression.
Dutifully, you do as told and stick your tongue out. Frank slides the head over it, from side to side, before slowly pushing into your mouth. You automatically close it around him, already humming at feeling his size inside you, but Frank makes the same displeased sound as before and pulls out.
“Didn’t say you could suck it, did I?” The thumb of his other hand strokes over your cheekbone, the touch soft in contrast with his rebuke. “Keep your mouth open and tongue out… and don’t move.”
Swallowing again, you nod and do just as ordered.
“Yeah, there we go.” Frank lets his cock slip and slide over your tongue, sometimes around your lips and under your tongue, teasing you.
You have to fight to keep in position when Frank enters your mouth again, wanting nothing more than to suck him in, do something, take him deeper. Because he’s not pushing far, at least not far enough to put any strain on your throat. He’s just using your tongue for the friction while sporadically fisting his hand over the entire length, his other hand gently keeping your head in place by your nape.
“You’re doin’ so good for me. Makin’ me feel good,” Frank praises, voice deep and guttural, forcing your eyes closed at his words and the way they sound. “Alright… now you can suck me off but,” he stops you right before you hungrily lean in to do just that. “I set the pace. Got it?”
You nod, your mouth closing for a moment to swallow from keeping it open for so long, and take the tip of his cock between your lips when he leans in again.
Frank takes his time once again. It seems to be the theme of the night, Frank driving you crazy with want at the slowest pace. Since you aren’t allowed to do much, you use every possible move you can with your tongue instead. You press the flat of your tongue hard against his whole length as it thrusts in and out unhurriedly, before teasing along the nerves right under the head with the tip of your tongue. Frank doesn’t complain about it, quite the opposite, really. You lift your eyes to his, finding him staring at you, his nostrils flaring every time he exhales, and you suck or lick over him just right.
“I thought of this all night,” Frank suddenly starts talking again, gaining your full attention. “‘Cause I know you like how I look tonight, but you have no idea what you did to me, did ya? Lookin’ at me all the time. Shit, Sweetheart, you were like an open book. I could practically hear you thinkin’. Did ya know that you kept suckin’ on that fuckin’ straw in your cocktails? Even when it was empty?” Frank pushes a little faster inside before retreating and letting you suck just over the tip again, groaning deeply as you do it.
You stare up at him, eyes wide as you realize that you did not, in fact, notice any of it. You’d been too focused on Frank and unconsciously projected your desire.
“But you’ve been so good tonight, Love, so good. Think you deserve a reward,” Frank groans as he pulls out, and you let him go with a disappointed pop, believing that you’d get to have more of him finally.
Instead, Frank slowly starts jerking himself off, staring at you intently.
“Touch yourself for me,” he rumbles.
You gasp, having thought for a moment that you wouldn’t be allowed to come, and bring your hands back to the front and tug at your clothes to gain access to yourself. You waste no time, stroking yourself rapidly as you watch Frank staring back at you, taking in each of your moves.
“Gimme that tongue again.”
You moan and open your mouth, letting the tip of his cock press against your tongue as Frank pumps himself quickly.
“Already so close, hm?” Frank’s voice drops into a half whisper, while the hand still at your neck slides into the base of your hair to angle you perfectly for what he has in mind.
“Mhm, mhm,” you moan, feeling the first tingling of your release at the end of your spine. It’s unsurprising with how strung high you’ve been ever since the party. But you're holding back for Frank, wanting to come with the taste of him on your tongue, knowing exactly that this is what he’s aiming for.
He doesn’t make you wait long, himself having held on for a long time and teasing himself while he teased you. Frank's climax hits him so hard, that the hand in your hair leaves to catch him on the door and makes him lean further over you. You never lose your rhythm on yourself, though, and manage to keep your head at the right angle to catch all of Frank’s release on your tongue. It isn’t an easy feat, since you shatter at his feet, your own orgasm ripping through you and leaving you winded, only able to gather Frank’s come on your tongue before retracting it in your mouth.
You slump forward while you catch your breath, swallowing everything Frank gave you. Frank joins you a moment later, still breathing hard, as he kneels in front of you and cups your face with two large and warm hands. He kisses you without a word, but the praise is clear anyway; you did more than well.
Relationship: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader
Fandom: The Punisher
Rating: T
Word Count: 653
Summary: You own a restaurant with Frank but haven't been able to spend much time together during the holidays.
Prompt: Tender
The restaurant is alive with people, their happy voices carrying from table to table, laughter echoing all around. Garlands with soft lights decorate the walls, while flickering candles cast cozy shadows over the tabletops. It’s the busiest time of the year, yet you can’t help smiling big as you run from customer to customer, taking orders here and bringing dishes there. The delicious smell of the Christmas themed food drifts through the continuously opening and closing kitchen doors, the staff doing their utmost to satisfy everyone.
The entrance door opens with a flurry of icy wind and snowflakes, the cold weather having hit New York earlier this week, and through it walks Frank. He’s wrapped in a thick, deep green winter coat, the collar lifted to protect his face from the chill outside. You watch as his eyes travel over the crowd, Frank opening his coat and exposing the blue plaid shirt hidden underneath it, and know that he’s looking for you. Sure enough, his shoulders relax, and his face softens when he finds you. You grin in return, waving the hand holding a small tablet you use to take the orders on. Frank’s face ducks for a moment as you see the pleased smile forming on it, the man looking at you from under his lashes.
You motion with your hands that you’ll be with him in a second before returning your attention to the table you’d been waiting. You see Frank move through the restaurant out of the corner of your eyes and remove his outer layers as he walks through the staff room door.
With a large smile and saying that you’d be back soon with the appetizers, you head towards the staff room after sending the order to the kitchen. Frank walks out of it just when you reach the door and smiles fondly at you.
“Hey,” he rasps, his voice barely audible in the middle of the hum of voices.
“Hey yourself.”
Frank makes an aborted move, like he’d wanted to reach for you, but suddenly stops and glances towards the filled tables behind you.
“Is everything alright?” He asks, looking back at you, his eyes going over your face and your body repeatedly.
Frank isn’t really one for PDA, but you can tell that he really wants to touch you right now, as you see his hands twitching at his sides.
You nod as your mouth lifts into a soft smile, while your hands raise to fold at the back of his neck, your fingers tickling the short hairs on the nape.
“If there weren’t that many people here, I’d kiss you the way I really want to kiss you right now,” you say with a glance towards his mouth and just loud enough for Frank to hear you.
Frank ducks his head again with a light, huffed laugh before he wraps his arms around your waist to get you closer. The world falls away for the small moment this lasts; your head is against Frank’s shoulder, part of your cheek resting against the warm skin peeking through his shirt, and you sway gently to the low music coming through the speakers. Although you work side by side, you haven't been able to spend much alone time together since the beginning of December, and even less during Christmas week, meaning that you try to savor this instant to the fullest.
You don’t know how much time went by, but you’re pulled out of Frank’s hug by the tablet buzzing in your back pocket and indicating that dishes need to be taken to the customers.
“Let’s get back to work,” Frank says against your temple before kissing it lightly.
You hum in agreement, but stop Frank for a second anyway to pull him in for a long press of lips.
“Let’s do this,” you grin, winking at Frank, the man carrying a happy smile on his lips now.
A/N: This was based on a dream of Jon that I had a few nights back. I dreamed that we were surrounded by people (I suppose it was in a restaurant) and that he was hesitant about touching me. What reader says about wanting to kiss Frank is what I said word for word in the dream. The hug I describe here is what happened right after I said that. It was the perfect moment to use in a soft Christmas drabble.
I was supposed to work on some requests, but I ended up writing this after I had a chat with @darlingshane about doing chores and the likes with Shane/Frank. I just tend to take things a bit too far every time 🙃 She was also amazing and made this gorgeous gif just for this lil' fic. Thank you, Darling 🤗
Frank coming home with a sprained wrist was bound to cause him some problems. Especially since it’s his right hand, and he does most things with it. Eating had taken a bit of finagling, but he’d worked it out quickly enough. You might have intentionally started cooking meals that require less cutting, too.
It's after the second week with his wrist in a brace, that he comes up with something that he can't do. Not even with his left hand.
"Fuckin' hell!" You hear him swear loudly from the bathroom.
You're sitting up in bed, book in hand, and lift your eyes to the slightly opened bathroom door, wondering what got Frank so angry.
"You're alright?" You ask, when the dark mumbling continues, unintelligible now.
You get out of bed and walk to the bathroom when you don't get an answer. You have to bite your lower lip on a laugh at the display in front of you and lean against the door jamb.
Frank is standing in front of the sink, clad in only a pair of sweatpants, and glaring at his right hand.
His beard weirdly streaked through you notice.
"Need help?"
Brown eyes meet yours through the mirror in front of them. They narrow when they take in your amusement. You lift your hands in a show of peace and step closer, renewing your question by raising your eyebrows inquiringly. Frank sighs in defeat and turns to face you, handing you a beard trimmer.
"I like the longer beard," you announce, swiping a finger over his jawline where he tried trimming it.
Frank's face splits into a shit-eating grin at your statement. That earns him a slap to the shoulder. You know where his thoughts just went. Namely, to the last time he'd left a beard burn on your inner thighs. You can't help grinning in return after a second, though. It had been quite the night.
"Okay, sit down, smart-ass." You indicate the rim of the bathtub.
Frank does as he's told and lifts his face for you. You grab a small towel, putting it over Frank's shoulders to catch the hairs that you’ll be cutting off.
"Don't move," you instruct, stepping between his spread legs for easier access.
You check the number the dial on the trimmer is set to, in case it needs adjusting later, before bringing it to Frank’s throat, the man looking at you expectantly.
“Here we go.”
You’ve never done this before, so you take your time, making sure not to miss a spot as you move from neck to jaw, small hairs falling over Frank's towel-covered chest and the floor below. You like this, you quickly realize. The buzzing sound of the device, the regular movement of your hand while you concentrate on your task. And Frank's gaze on you. You ignore his stare for the longest time, not wanting to lose your focus. Frank is making it difficult, though. You're not touching. Not really. You have a hand on his shoulder to keep you steady or on his jaw to guide his head where you need it. His thighs are barely grazing yours. But you feel his every breath on your skin, his body heat, his distinctive scent. Simply Frank's whole presence.
A pleasant shiver runs down your back at his continued observation. It's the only thing he can do, really, but it still has the same effect as a touch. You finally make eye contact. You almost regret giving in, because it does break your focus like you knew it would. You need to breathe in and out deeply a few times at Frank's intense gaze. He's clearly enjoying this immensely.
Large hands come up to rest over your hips. Not grabbing or holding. Just there. The only movement comes from his thumbs, stroking up and down. You're wearing your usual night getup (a pair of boy shorts and a tank top) so that his touch over your clothes feels like he were touching your skin directly.
"Don't move," you croak your earlier words before clearing your throat.
Frank smirks but remains quiet. His eyes never leave you, though, and you have to push his stupidly, handsome face away with a palm to make him laugh out loud and break the spell he's put you under.
"Stop it." You shake your head in amusement, turning his face this way and that way to have a look at your progress.
"Ain't doin' anythin'," he rumbles innocently, his hands falling away from you.
You snort but resume trimming his beard.
It only takes Frank another minute to touch you again, fingertips skimming over your ass this time. You jump slightly and draw in a sharp breath, managing to stop your hand from hitting Frank with the trimmer in reflex.
"I said. Don't. Move. Frank!" You swat his hand away, Frank chuckling, highly amused.
His hands leave you once more as you grumble silently, your words swallowed by the sound of the trimmer.
Frank is good for the next few minutes. Long enough for you to relax again and work around his mouth carefully. All the same, you don't know why you thought that Frank is done playing, because you still shriek in surprise when his fingers tickle the skin right behind your knees. A few things happen in the same second that you scream: your hands jerk up in shock at the unexpected touch so that the thumb of the hand holding the trimmer skids over the dial, setting it to the lowest number, and makes you shave a bare patch of skin into Frank’s bearded jaw and cheek.
You both freeze, the small device still buzzing away merrily in your palm, and look at each other in shock. Frank lifts his good hand to his face, feeling over the bare skin.
“I told you not to move!” you yell at him, right before exploding into loud laughter at the sight of the now ruined beard. "Serves you right, Mister I-can't-keep-my-hands-to-myself. You know how ticklish I am."
Frank turns his head to the mirror to inspect the 'damage', thumbing over the shaved off part. He snorts.
"Guess we need to shave it all off, now."
"You think?" You snark, still chuckling and turning the trimmer off.
"Alright, smarty-pants, think you can shave it all off and not slit my throat?" Frank laughs, reaching for his shaving kit without having to move you from between his legs, and getting the shaving cream and an actual razor out.
"Depends on you." You level Frank with a highly skeptical gaze, one eyebrow raising over your forehead. "Think you can keep your hands to yourself for that long?"
"Sure. No problem." He's pressing shaving cream into a palm, but stops after a second to add, "You might wanna put on a bathrobe or somethin', though."
You burst out laughing at the admission and take his face between your hands to pull him into a kiss. You planned for it to be a short and sweet kiss, but you didn't count on Frank to grab your ass, shaving cream and all, and tug you further into him. You make a small sound of surprise and offense at getting shaving cream all over your butt, before sitting sideways on one of his thighs so that you both don't go tumbling backwards into the bathtub.
"So I guess you can't keep them to yourself," you grin against his lips, linking your arms loosely around Frank's neck.
You squawk when he retaliates by slipping his sticky hand under your tank top and slides the fingertips over your ribs, making you shriek again and laugh uncontrollably.
"Stop! Stop!" You beg in between sharp breaths and laughs, slapping and pushing at his chest repeatedly.
Frank moves so that you're suddenly lifted into his arms, bridal style, and carried into the bedroom. He practically throws you onto the bed, but he leaves you no room for any kind of comment as he immediately follows and slips between your parted legs.
Fun fact : I got the idea with the accident from something that actually happened to me last summer. Ever since the first lockdown, I’ve been trimming my husband’s hair. The third time I did it, I accidentally touched the dial while removing excess hair from the top part and when I started trimming again... it resulted in a huge hole in my husband’s hair. OMG, my face in that moment, you guys. Just pure shock. I obviously had to come clean pretty quickly, but he took it better than I had first anticipated. I must add that he wears his hair very short to begin with, so that the difference wasn’t that terrible. But it was pretty close to just shaving his whole hair off. I check the stupid dial every time I do this for him now.
"You think I can't keep my hands to myself?" He rumbles against your month. "Lemme show you just how much I can't then."
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Frank Castle/Reader, Frank Castle/You
Characters: Frank Castle, Reader, Original Female Character(s), You
Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Slice of Life, Smut, Hand & Finger Kink
Series: Part 13 of Always time for coffee
Summary:
You remember the first time Frank used his fingers on you.
