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powerfultenderness · 11 months

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Hello there! I just discovered your könig neighbor series, and I was wondering what would happen if könig got hurt? Maybe he came back from a mission with something the reader notices?

As big or as little as you like. I'm obsessed for real. The way you write him is spot on to what's in my head. I'll take whatever scraps you are willing to throw out!

First, thank you so much! And I'm so sorry for taking so long with this one! I usually try to keep the requests/suggestions shorter, but this one got a little out of hand!

There's a tiny bit of angst here. But most of it is like half fluff and half suggestive. So [Mature 18+ rating]

He never imagined himself as one of those men that would rush home to see his partner. And he still wasn’t. He was a man rushing home so he could see his neighbor. After quickly dropping his bag off at home, he found himself knocking on your door and hoping it wasn't too late for you.

Thankfully you were still awake and answered the door only after his second knock. Clearly you had been getting ready for bed, as you didn't look tired but were dressed in a large t-shirt and loose fitting shorts. You smiled up at him as soon as you opened the door, "König! You're back!"

And you jumped up and hugged him. Not your usual greeting for him, usually it was just a nice smile and a wave, if he was lucky you'd gently graze his arm. But this was the first time since you moved in that he had been gone longer than a week.

He quickly returned your embrace, wrapping his arms around you and holding you off the floor, enjoying both the feel of your body against his and your happy little squeal.

You giggled as he set you down, you let your hands gently glide down from his shoulders, until you were simply holding onto his arms.

König smiled down at you, taking you in like you were the very air he breathed, and so saw the moment your face shifted from happiness to horror. You let out a little scream and jolted out of his hands, “ah! I’m bleeding!”

“Shit! What happened?” He quickly, but gently, took your arm, smeared in blood, and looked over it with you.

“I don’t know!” You panicked as you tried to find the source of your bleeding.

Wait…you didn’t feel any pain. You looked up from your arm to his and gasped. “I’m not bleeding! You are!”

It was hard to tell, as he was wearing a black long sleeved shirt, but with a closer look, you could see a dark wet patch sticking to his arm.

He hummed quietly and followed your line of sight to look at his right arm. “Oh. Yea. I did get hurt.”

“What do you mean, ‘oh yea’? Come here!” You tugged on his uninjured arm and pulled him into your flat.

“It’s not that bad, darling. I’m fine.” Though he protested, he followed you with no resistance.

“Sit,” you ordered as you pointed to your couch and disappeared into the back room.

You returned with some clean towels and a first aid kit; not a cutesy supermarket kind, he noticed, but quite the premium kind. You gently set the items down on the coffee table in front of him and headed to the kitchen, running the water until it was warm enough.

“Why do you have this?” He asked poking through the first aid kit while you were running the water. It was good that you were prepared for emergencies, but he liked to think that you would turn to him in emergencies.

“House warming gift from my sister. The kids like to spend time with me, and one of her kids is a little accident prone.” Never, at least in your care, needed anything more than a band aid, but better safe than sorry.

Ah. That made sense, he nodded to himself. A first aid kit of this caliber did seem like something a worried and responsible mother would gift.

You filled a bowl with warm water and set it down on the coffee table next to the rest of the supplies. “Now, let me see.”

His injury was near the back of his right bicep, simply rolling his sleeve up didn’t even reach the wound. You hummed and dropped your hands back onto your lap. "Even I think it would be too dramatic to cut up your shirt."

You were about to continue, to tell him to change into a shirt with short sleeves when he crossed his arms at his waist and pulled his shirt over his head.

You should have kept your gaze up. Not only would it have been more polite, you might have caught a glimpse of his face as he pulled his shirt over his head. Hindsight. Instead your eyes immediately dropped his chest, a breath caught in your throat, as you stared at…him. When you first met, he had rolled up his shirt to show you a scar on his side, and that had sent your heart racing. But now? With his shirt completely off? Your eyes, very wide, were glued to his chest, taking in every dip of his muscles, naturally leading your eyes down and down, only disrupted by scars (that you had the sudden urge to touch) and hair that dipped down-

“Darling?” König cleared his throat nervously. “I can do it, if you are, uhm, scared of the blood.”

You jumped, and breathed, at his voice. Crap! You were caught completely checking him out and a quick and hopefully subtle swipe to the side of your face proved that you had literally been drooling. You, brain still not caught up, scoffed at his words. Instead of taking the polite out he’d given you, you opened your stupid mouth. “Please, I’m not scared of blood.”

How did you not notice him take one of the towels to sop up the blood on his arm?

“You’re not?”

The way his hood moved with him, as if it were a part of him, combined with the streaks of faded paint underneath his eyes should have been intimidating. You imagine that on the field, even to his own teammates, that it is. But the way he tilted his head and how you could tell, even with the eye black still on his face, that his eyes were wide was almost…comical. It was cute. And it grounded you, out of the gutter.

“Nope. Now, let me see.” You returned to the task at hand, taking the towel from him and cleaning up the blood.

“You are full of surprises.”

“Not really.” You half laughed as you set the bloodied towel on the coffee table. You had meant that you had experience with blood quite often, once a month for a couple of days kind of often. But considering most men got queasy on that topic, you dropped it. “Looks like a little band aid won’t do.”

Every time you turned away from him, this time it was to get an antibiotic ointment, König had to remind himself to calm down. Your touch was so soft and gentle, he’d been treated for such lacerations more times than he could count, but the medics were never so gentle. Of course, you didn’t have a line of patients waiting on you, but that somehow made your attention all the more special. It was a good thing you could not see his face, he was sure his entire face up to his ears was red. He would look so much less cool, would ruin the lust he saw in your eyes when he took off his shirt, if you could see just how flustered he really was.

“Am I allowed to ask what happened?” You softly asked as you moved onto applying gauze.

“Nothing bad.” He leaned forward just enough to get a whiff of your shampoo, or maybe it was your lotion, either way an intoxicating and fitting scent. “An enemy managed to sneak up on me with a knife.”

You gasped and looked up at him, eyes wide once again but for an entirely different reason. “You said it was nothing bad!”

“It wasn’t!” He chuckled, hand moving to pat your knee. “This was all he got before I killed him!”

His wound completely bandaged now, you froze for a moment before quickly dropping your hands. “O-oh.”

Shit. Was that the wrong thing to say? You didn’t seem to mind the violence when he told you about the scar on his side, was mentioning that he killed someone too much? His stomach dropped, were you scared of him now? You gently removed his hand from your knee and started to quietly clean up. König swore his heart stopped beating for a moment. You were pushing him away.

“Please see a doctor or medic or whatever you have on base, tomorrow.”

While your voice was still soft, there was a cold edge to it that made König want to drop to his knees and beg you to forgive him.

“In the meantime, you should rest.” You finished and took his shirt from his lap and the bloodied towels and stood up.

He followed, at least he meant to, but you quickly turned and pointed back at the couch. “Rest.”

“Darling, please. I don’t need- This is fine. I am fine.”

You crossed your arms, and narrowed your eyes at him. “König.” You dragged out his name in warning. “Sit down. And rest.”

He sighed and sat back down, grateful for the soft blanket you had draped over the couch. The air suddenly felt cold without you next to him.

You put away the first aid kit and dumped the bloodied towels and his shirt in the wash, luckily noticing that you also had blood on your shirt, probably from when you hugged him. You glanced over at him and he was staring straight ahead, not moving, and quickly ducked into your room. You changed your shirt, and made sure you didn’t have any more blood on you (you didn’t), before adding your shirt to the wash and returning to the living room.

He looked so massive seated like that on your couch. He was slouched a little, legs spread, right knee bouncing nervously, and his arms crossed over his chest. Oh. Maybe you should send him home now, he was half naked in your home now, after all.

König looked up when you came back and froze, heat instantly returning to his face and chest and ears and. He swallowed thickly and forced his eyes up. You had changed from a large t-shirt to a fitted, low cut, tank top. You were looking at him with a raised brow. Shit. Had you asked him something and he missed it because he was too busy staring at your chest?

“Are you sure you’re okay? See, this is why I told you to rest.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He repeated, standing up and taking a few steps, standing close enough to you that you had to crane your head back just to keep eye contact.

“Where are you going?” You shouldn’t be trying to stop him from leaving, but, heart racing and blush heating your face and all, you still wanted to spend time with him.

“Oh, you know.” How could you hear his grin under that mask? “Just to work out.”

“Don’t even joke about that.” He shrugged. “Lift some weights.”

“König.”

“Maybe some pull ups.”

“Just sit back down.”

He sighed and did as you said. “I told you-”

“If you don’t rest, I’ll make you rest!” In essence, you already were! He was sitting back on the couch!

He chuckled, “oh yea? How?”

“I’ll! I’ll, uhm…”

“You’ll what?” Now he was laughing. It was cute how you thought you could make him do anything! (even though you just did…)

Frustrated that you could think of nothing to make him listen, you shouted a last resort: “I’ll sit on you!”

König stopped laughing and blinked at you. “...what?”

You crossed your arms. “You heard me.”

The silence that followed dragged on for a second too long, you shifted your weight nervously, and König suddenly started laughing again, loud and gasping for breath, as if what you said was the funniest thing ever. “You’ll sit on me! Is this a dream?”

Even if you had understood the German, it would have been difficult to make out what he was saying between all the laughing. You glared at him, misinterpreting his words as a challenge. “Don’t think I won’t do it!”

His head dropped to the back of the couch and he slapped his thigh, “do it, love!” He sat back up, chuckles still falling from his mouth, “go on. Sit on me!”

You tried to keep glaring at him while your mind struggled to translate unknown words into English. You were pretty sure he was just repeating what you said, like he didn’t believe you. Well, he was wrong!

He finally stopped laughing and sighed, you were always so willing in his dreams. “Not a dream, yea? I thought so.”

He tensed, like he was going to stand back up, and you moved quicker than he thought you could, not that he was going to stop you. Just like you “threatened”, you sat on him! Your hands were on his shoulders and you were straddling his lap. He froze for a moment, his mind trying to catch up with his racing heart, and looked up at you.

“Rest.”

He swallowed and nodded. “Ok.” His hands moved from his sides to run up your thighs, his thumbs playing at the hemline of your shorts before you snatched up his hands.

“Hey!” You dropped his hands, letting them fall back onto the cushions, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Only good boys get to touch.”

König’s head flew back and he groaned, hips unintentionally thrusting up. He was panting, as if he’d been holding his breath for far too long, and looked up at you. “I can be good!”

You half gasped and half giggled at his reaction, your blood practically sending fire to your face as your heart raced in a mix of excitement and nervousness. You thought he’d laugh at you again, instead he shifted beneath you, and looked up at you with big desperate eyes.

“Please.” König pleaded, hands digging into the cushions. If he needed to be good, then he couldn’t touch you again without permission. But it was so hard! You were so close to him, your weight on his lap giving such nice pressure, if only you would scoot a little closer! His eyes rolled back and his head dropped onto the couch again, as he imagined, prayed for, you rolling your hips, grinding onto his growing bulge.

You were still though, no longer even touching him as you crossed your arms. “Hmm. Are you sure? No working out?”

He looked at you again and shook his head vigorously. “No. No, I won’t!”

“Noo, lifting weights?”

“No!”

“No pull ups?” “No! I’ll be good, I promise!”

You giggled, heart still racing at how quickly he got riled up.

He whined and shifted under you again, not in an attempt to get you to touch him, but just to alleviate his need for space.

“Then,” you uncrossed your arms and gently took his chin in one hand, forcing him to look at you again. “What are you going to do, König?”

He swallowed again, lips darting out of his mouth to lick his lips. Your soft, gentle, sweet little touch that he could barely feel through his hood might as well have been an iron grip, for all that he was willing to give you control of his body. He blinked, eyes searching yours for the answer you wanted to hear. “Ah, rest.”

You smiled and dropped your hand, though he remained still. “And?”

König’s heart dropped, his stomach alight with butterflies, and licked his lips again. “Touch you?”

You laughed, and he laughed with you for a moment, before you shook your head. “Noo. What are you going to do tomorrow?”

“Oh! Medic!”

“That’s right!” You cheered and much to his disappointment, climbed off of him.

He panted for breath and tried to follow you without standing up (not until you gave him permission to), and leaned forward. You chuckled and held your hand out to him, “come on.”

He jumped up, reaching out not for your hand, but for your waist. But your hand on his chest stopped him, “you can tell me what the medic says tomorrow.”

He once again found himself frozen and unable to think clearly. “...what?”

You started to guide him towards the door, “oh and I’ll drop off your shirt tomorrow too.”

“What?”

You opened the door and nudged him through it. “Welcome home, König. Good night.”

König stared at your closed door for half a minute before he leaned against it, his hand flying to the doorknob and finding it securely locked. Good. But…he sighed, “good night, angel.”

[More Neighbor König]

Tagging: @warrior-of-justice

#midwesternwitchery #könig x reader #könig x fem reader #neighbor!könig #blurb #short #sorta just for organizational purposes #also i feel like this was a fluffy or hurt/comfort request but my hormones were out of control while i was writing most of it #i may have messed up the request #sorry #🤦‍♀️#wc: 2753 #almost as much as the first part

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halfmoth-halfman · 11 months

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Sooooooo not really an ask but i have to say you have absolutely wrecked me in the best way possible with your mafia price fic like words cannot do what that fic has made me feel justice.

But what's the best part? I go to your main page to see what else you have and boom SARA J MASS HATE ACCOUNT I'm dead dying 🤣🤣 but I am so here for it! Can I ask what one of her works tipped you over?

Bravo and I can't wait to see where your writing takes you!

aaaa thank you so much!! i'm so glad people are liking the mob!fic, i really didn't think i'd get this far into it or get such a nice reception for it 😭💜

LOL honestly it was just a combination of things esp with they way she writes/treats her female and nonwhite characters (and the ones she likes to pretend are nonwhite) and how she romanticizes abuse but it was the insta post where she unapologetically used the death of breonna taylor to promote her book that really tipped me over.

#midwesternwitchery #moth answers #answered

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mistydeyes · 10 months

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Congrats on the 1k!

I saw the prompt bkack and white photos and literally it's price. Think about it the man is super attached to his bucket hat.

You can't tell me he doesn't have a photo tucked in it. Like he's old-fashioned, so he wouldn't want the boys seeing it (he respects his lady too much for that), so it only makes sense he would tuck it in his trusty hat.

Again congratulations 🎊 👏 💐 🥳 and feel free to ignore this if it doesn't spark anything for ya!

thank you @midwesternwitchery for submitting and the kind words! you literally envisioned what i was thinking like he has a spicy pic of his lady in the brim of his hat and will occasionally look at it when no one else is ;) hope you enjoy!

link to the prompt list and 1k celebration!

prompt: black and white photos (18+) - you take a few photos so they can remember you (and your body) while on deployment

pairing: John Price x fem!reader

warnings: sexual depictions, swearing

a/n: there was actually two requests for this so expect a cute lil continuation of this prompt!

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

The day before John's deployment, you always spent it was a home-cooked meal and a good drink at home. You made sure he enjoyed all the comforts before leaving for an indeterminate amount of time. "The pasta and chicken were delicious tonight," he said as he took the plates away from the table. Despite your constant protests, John always insisted on doing the dishes. "Well I have something else you would enjoy," you said and he cocked his eyebrow before you walked off to the bedroom. You soon returned with a scarlet envelope and placed it on the oak table. "Open it," you prompted as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and leaned down.

Upon the first photo, you could hear his breath hitch. "Fuck," he whispered lowly as he caressed the 2x5 photograph in his calloused finger. A close friend had come over one day and helped you prepare the gift. After the session, you finally developed the series of boudoir photos in color and black and white and placed them within the envelope. It had been weeks since you had them done but you knew it was the perfect time to gift them. The first picture just happened to be one where you lay in front of a painting in black lingerie and a sheer robe. "What are these?" he whispered as he thumbed through the rest of them. He took the time to admire your figure in a variety of settings, from on the bed with the bedsheets draping across your naked figure to you leaning over the makeup table and applying lipstick in the mirror. This was one of your favorites as it perfectly showed your ass in scarlet red underwear. "It's just a little present, for my favorite soldier," you replied and kissed his cheek, "just so you have a reason to come back to me."

With that comment, he turned his head and pulled you into a passionate kiss. By the end of it, you felt lightheaded at the sudden movement. "This," he said as he held up a photograph, "is going to stay with me always." You peered at the picture and realized it was one of you laying on the bed with a delicate white teddy. Your hair was sprawled around your figure and you were flirtatious looking at the camera while biting your lip. "You look like an absolute angel, sweetheart," he continued as he eyed you lustfully. You couldn't help but feel the heat rise in your room and your legs start to shake when he said that. "These are only for me to enjoy," he whispered in a lower tone than before, "now let me enjoy you before I have to only have photographs as a memory." With that statement, you knew it would be a long night as he pushed out of the chair and lifted you to the bedroom.

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #price imagine #mw2 #izzie is writing #izzie celebrates 1k

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frankenhookersmonster · 2 years

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fictober day thirteen - scary movie, dad!frank castle x reader

warnings - dad!frank castle x parent!reader, pure fluff

word count - 495

fictober masterlist - masterlist

twitter - ko-fi

got something to say? a request or concept? speak!!!

a/n - dad frank my betrothed

You didn’t think Gremlins was that scary. You remembered watching it when you were young, so when your daughter wanted to watch a scary movie, you figured it would be appropriate for a five year old. But it had been a while since you had seen it, and you had forgotten how terrifying a puppet can be.

Frank didn’t seem to remember, either, a look of shock riddling his face while he held you and your child in his arms. She seemed unfazed, wearing the same stoic face she got from her dad.

By the time the movie had ended you could tell she was tired, her fist held Frank’s shirt tightly as her eyelids gave long blinks. Frank carried her off to the bathroom, helped her brush her teeth and kissed her goodnight as he tucked her in.

When he came back to the living room he fell into your arms and laid on top of you. “Can we just sleep out here? You’re so soft, I don’t wanna move.” His words were muffled by the fabric of your shirt. “Frankie my back.” Immediately he sat up, stretching a bit and rubbing his eyes. You made grabby hands at him, which clearly he wasn’t impressed by. “I already put our daughter to bed, now I gotta tuck you in too?” You nodded, stretching your hands out further.

With a groan Frank picked you up bridal style. You pecked his neck, giggling and swinging your feet. “Is it just me or was the movie different from what you remember?” Frank opened the bedroom door with his back. “Shit was terrifying.” He chuckled, gently resting you on the bed and adjusting the covers. “Just a bit.”

You were all comfortable, Frank had moved himself to cuddle up to your side. “Wait,” Frank mumbled, lifting himself up and looking around the room, “is it after midnight? I forgot to feed Gizmo.” You smacked his arm, making him crash down onto you. Both of you feel into a fit of laughter, trying to muffle it to not wake your daughter. It didn’t work, though, because your door creaked open and the light from the hallway flooded in.

“Mama, Dada.” Your daughter stood in the doorframe, rubbing her eyes and holding a stuffed rabbit. Both of you sat up. “What’s up, bug? Can’t sleep?” You reached out for her, pulling her up into your lap quickly and carefully. “Bad dream.” She muttered, snuggling into your side just as Frank had before. Frank maneuvered his way closer to you, placing an arm around your shoulder and fiddling with your daughter’s hair.

“We’ll pick a different movie next time, baby, something that’ll give you better dreams. How about that?” She nodded into your chest, closing her eyes for a much needed sleep. Frank gave both of you kisses, “In the meantime, Mama and I will keep you safe.” He looked to her for a response, but she was already fast asleep.

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imtryingmybeskar · 2 years

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Drabble 24 - Dio. This can be read as Dio x M! Reader or Dio x F! Reader. Either way it's very NSFW. Word count: 509

Dio is a bratty sub who needs to be tamed. Which you are very happy to do courtesy of edging and orgasm denial.

A single drop of sweat runs down the central dip of his spine and pools at the small of his back as he arches, desperate to feel more of you.

“Please…,” he begs, panting. “Plea-please.”

“Mmmm, no,” you purr, grabbing his hips to still his movements. “Bad, bratty boys don’t get to choose how they come.”

He groans, and the desperation of it sends a thrill to your abdomen. You had teased him for hours before finally sinking into him and he was near frantic, his whole body tensed and on the verge of the orgasm that you had denied him for so long.

His head drops, dips down below his shoulders as his arms tremble with the sustained effort of holding himself on all fours. You slide your hand up the smooth skin of his sweat slicked back until you are cocooning him with your smaller body. Your hand reaches out for the leather collar that sits around his neck.

“Are you gonna be good for me now, sweet boy?” you coo, pulling gently so that he is forced to turn his head and look behind him. His beautiful, boundlessly dark eyes look black in the half light of the candles that are dotted around your bedroom and he nods frantically in reply to your question.

You glide your hands back down his torso, feeling the muscles between his ribs, the heat of his overwrought body under your fingertips. “Move with me,” you command, the order couched in soft velvet and love.

He does, repeating the dance you have performed a hundred times before as you rock back on to your haunches and bring him with you, sliding him down deeper still over the cock buried inside of him. He lets out an involuntary whimper at the feeling and you hook your chin over his shoulder to take a look at your handiwork.

His own cock is beautiful and angrily large, flushed almost purple at the tip and leaking everywhere, a pool of precum in a large circular patch on the sheets where he had previously been positioned. You run your palm firmly up over his chest, holding him close to your own as you lick a stripe up his shoulder and he visibly twitches as he desperately fights to control himself.

“Will you always be my good boy?” you whisper in his ear, gently biting down on his earlobe as he stutters his reply.

“Y-yes. Oh yes. I’ll be g-good always. I sw-swear.”

“Then use me,” you murmur. “Use my cock to come, Dio.”

He keens, a noise of relief and desperate desire, and begins to rock back on to you, angling himself until he hits that spot deep inside. A ragged shout is torn from his throat as he comes in seconds, his cock entirely untouched and yet spattering over the wall, the headboard, the pillows and sheets.

Quivering, he sinks back against you, relying entirely on your strength to keep him upright. You murmur sweet nonsense and praise into his ear, savouring holding him close.

@thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascal @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42 @shirks-all-responsibilities

#shane dio morrissey #dio x reader #dio x you #dio x M! reader #dio x F! reader #shane dio morrissey x you #shane dio morrissey x reader #drabble challenge #drabbles #pure smut

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lavendertales · 2 years

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Hey Ari, congratulations on 3k followers! You deserve it all.

I would like to request some fluff for prompt 28 and 78, where reader and Din are just cuddling at night and reader buries her face into Din’s neck 🥺 thank you!

thank you so much, love!! ❤️ softness with Din oh gosh, let me see what I can do about that 🥺

#28. "just getting comfy +

#78. "I can't get enough of you"

In the darkness of the ship, almost no sound is heard except yours and Din’s breaths, both steady and relaxed.

It’s the only time either one of you can get some rest, especially Din.

In the many months you’ve known each other, you’ve also grown closer to and fonder of each other. Your relationship was built on mutual trust and though it took him a long time to come to terms with the fact that you were irrevocably and hopelessly in love with him, Din began to have trouble thinking of a time when you weren’t present in his life.

He could only fall asleep with you by his side, your scent invading his nostrils and your warm skin pressed up against his. At night, the armor comes off and it’s just the two of you close to each other, breathing in and breathing out, slowly and steadily. Time seems to freeze at night and everything else outside the two of you becomes irrelevant.

You toss and turn a few times, cuddling up even more at his chest. Din always smells fresh, of soap and musky and him, something homey.

“What are you doing?” his husky voice, clearly amused, asks.

“Just getting comfy.”

You smile in the crook of his neck, pressing a few soft kisses down his jawline, fully aware that Din is unable to resist all of that. But both of you are so beat from the full day you’ve had, kisses are all you resort to.

A chuckle escapes past his lips as he wraps his arms tightly around you and pulls you impossibly close. Soon, his lips find yours, together forming a tender kiss, filled with all the love and comfort neither one of you got to feel until then.

“I can’t get enough of you,” Din mutters.

“Tell me about it. I could kiss you all the time.”

You earn another chuckle from his side, a sound so pure and innocent you could’ve easily mistaken its source. You almost had trouble believing such a sound came from the most prolific bounty hunter in the galaxy.

“We should get some sleep,” he proposes through little pecks over your lips and cheeks.

“You’re right. Oh, wait.”

You cup his face, pulling him in, offering a more passionate kiss this time around, the kind that usually sets both of you afire.

And sure enough, you slowly drift below his body, trapped in the sweetest possible way. Perhaps you weren’t that tired after all.

Mando tags:

@bbyanarchist @jettia @againstacecilia @natlovesu @ittybittykylo @stardust-galaxies @evyiione @quicksilvermad @halerune @tomskookie @mindidjarin @leithatnight @elinedjarin

permanent Pedro tags:

@doin-stuff @pedro-pastel @acourtofsnakes @rosiefridayrogersunday @beskarboobs @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @boxdyeblonde @imcalledflorence @artsymaddie @casssiopeia @sleep-tight1 @pasckles @northernpunk @wantingpedropascal @evelynseventyr @itssmashedavo @phoenixhalliwell @elegantduckturtle @mylifeinthetardisforever @ohhersheybars @kingsqueensandvagabonds @greeneyedblondie44 @sebbys-girl @mrsparknuts @hnt-escape @hayley-the-comet @spideysimpossiblegirl @lsphoenix @kirsteng42 @lunaemss @goldielocks2004 @diogodxlot @queridopascal @gracie7209 @floraandfrost @mejswho @dobbyjen @janebby @what-iwish-you-knew @jedi-jesi @kaqua @datenshi666 @stevie75 @ezras-channel-rat @for-my-satisfaction @quica-quica-quica @mishasminion360 @eri16 @lovesbiggerthanpride @xaestheticalien @grandfanficstation @mrsudontknowme @hello-i-am-daydreaming @mando-s-wife @pastamomma @midwesternwitchery @headinthestarz @drreidsconverse @dindjarinneedsahug @captainjaspenor @pscalwhiskey @1800-fight-me @phandoz @ayrusss @amneris21 @alexxavicry @persephones-garden @din0-plan3 @smutwhore66 @dinsangelx @deliriosinrose @mswarriorbabe80 @crazyworldofsiani @terecord @squidwell @happycupcakeenthusiast @amidalush @pepperpottsxxxx @detectivecarisi-1 @starwarslove16 @dinandgone @fic-appointment @toxicfrankenstein @nicolemval @girlofchaos @mandosmistress @dumplinshee @jitterbugs927 @foremma13

#ari's 3k celebration #requests #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin drabble #din djarin fluff #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff

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paisley-print · 2 years

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Chapter Twelve

After fleeing your abusive husband and changing your name, you find yourself in the small coastal town of July, North Carolina. Soon you meet Frankie Morales, Air Force Veteran and single dad. As the two of you grow closer, you begin to let go of your past and learn to love again. That is until a strange man shows up in town, and you ’re forced to choose between your safety or the safety of the people that you love.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Tag List Google Form Click here to be added or taken off a list.

Rating: 18+

Notes: Me: You need to stop head hopping Me also: This chapter...... I’M SORRY, but it's the only way I know how! Also I noticed a few continuity errors and I’ll be fixing them soon!

Trigger Warnings: Domestic Abuse, PTSD, anxiety, injury, police brutality, alcoholism, homicide, drug use, guns.

@kenbechillin @qytyy @abzidabzy @livcamryn @heythere-mel @winter-fox-queen @sherala007 @inkededucatednnerdy @quica-quica-quica @hnt-escape @toomanystoriessolittletime @whataperfectwasteoftime @headinthestarz @casssiopeia @day-off-inkyoto @librariantothejedi @dobbyjen @goblinsimp @kiizhikehn-cedar @chook007 @thirddeadlysin @lawfulgranola @thetypewriterimproviser @darnitdraco @quietpainter @pinkrosethorne @mummifymecaptain @hellovanessax@notagamersdey @punkremus @hopeamarsu @what-iwish-you-knew @djjarins @hoff-mommy @punkerthanpascal @absurdthirst @i-ship-it-ironically @tobealostwanderer @seececerun @ezzieu2 @littlemissoblivious @lowlights @tintinn16 @withakindheartx @1andthesame @thedeviltohisangel @dihra-vesa @maryfanson @ahsokathearcher @itllpassby @ohyeasam @athalien @silverwolf319 @pjkimrn @a-few-fandoms-too-many @mando-amando @fictitious-little-stitious @voteforpedro09 @greeneyedblondie44 @feel-it-on-the-way-home13 @galaxyofmando @kravitzwhore @deadhumourist @elinedjarin @cannedsoupsucks @witching-wilds @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @kikis-writing-world @midwesternwitchery @solemnlyswearss @astoryisaloveaffair

Frankie had offered to drive you home, however you were stubborn, and in times of vulnerability you clung to your independence as a shield. Therefore you declined, took off your boot so it wouldn’t get wet, and walked across town in the pouring rain. Even though he was upset with you, the look in his eyes when you refused the car ride was one of worry. He had tried to protest but you held firm.

By the time you got home, you were soaked through to your underwear and your entire body felt like it had been pumped full of lead. You were a fucking idiot. A coward, and you had done damage so bad you weren’t sure if it could be mended. You were still upset with him, but you wished you would have handled this all differently.

‘He wasn’t David. He wasn’t David. He wasn’t David. Wake up. You are going to be alone for the rest of your life because you can’t let it go’ you thought.

Frankie was genuine and kind and all you wanted to do was call him up and apologize, but you didn’t have a cell phone and your ankle had swollen to the size of a softball.

Why did you have to fuck up literally everything you touched? Why were you letting your past define your future? Why haven’t you been getting better?

You really thought that you had been working on your anxiety and that a relationship was something you could handle, but it turns out all it took was one misstep to send you right back to square one. You wanted to be the person you were before all this happened. That version of yourself would have had more empathy.

When coming to July, what had scared you the most was the realization that you didn’t recognize yourself anymore. You had forgotten what you liked to eat, how you liked to dress or even what music you liked to listen to…and tonight was just another painful reminder of it.

The layers of clothing dropped to the tiled floor with a wet slap as you peeled them off in the bathroom and hung them on the towel rack to dry.

You knew Frankie needed time to cool down, and the boys were coming to stay the weekend, so you thought it best to let him have his space until they left on Monday. Then, you would drop by his house and apologize.

A crack of thunder made the power surge and the lights in the bathroom flicker. Your bare feet padded into your dark room. You felt minuscule in comparison to the large empty walls around you.

The lights flickered again as you locked your bedroom door and picked out a clean pair of pajamas. Next, you gathered up all your bedding and dragged it into the bathroom to make yourself a makeshift bed in the bathtub. The rest of the night was spent re-reading chapters from your favorite book.

Ten hours had gone by in a blur of tail lights and overpass signs. David only stopped once to take a piss, fill up his gas tank and buy more vodka. His heart was racing at the thought of how close he was. Before he left, he had enlisted the help of a male colleague who had the authority to issue wanted posters to other departments in the country.

David gave the man a picture of you and had him send out the posters to every county along the greyhound route. This wasn’t legal of course, but this man owed David a few favors.

Even Though it had been months, David knew somebody somewhere would have seen you. Your beauty made you stand out, made men stare at you, remember you.

So he wasn’t surprised when he got a call on his cellphone just a few hours later. An officer on duty at an emergency room had seen you just days before…. and you were with a man. When David heard that news, he felt sick to his stomach. Of course you were with a man. You were a whore, that’s what whores did. You were using this man for his money just as you used him.

The road blurred and distorted before him. David scrubbed at his eyes until the lines came back into focus, then reached for the water bottle next to him. The alcohol stung as it always did, but he forced it down anyway. He needed to stay focused. If he made the wrong move, you could go running off again and he couldn’t risk that.

All he had to do was drive to the hospital and get your address from the person working the front desk. No, he didn’t have a warrant, but he had a badge and a gun, and that seemed to be enough to make people bend to him.

David set the bottle back down in the cup holder, turned the windshield wipers on high, then cranked up the dial for the AC.His hands felt stuck to the steering wheel while beads of sweat matted his hair to his head and rolled down the side of his face.

Frankie and the others had spent the better part of the day looking at houses. Ben had been on the phone for most of it, sending pictures back to his fiance who couldn’t get off of work to come down. After the last tour, the four of them went to the local bar and grill.

Lucy had spent most of the day running around the different rooms or being carried around on her father’s shoulders. Boredom had overtaken her quickly and plagued her for the rest of the day. She would have much rather spent the day with Miss Alison and Thunder, or you. She would have liked to show you her collection of nail polish and painted her finger nails to match yours.

The little girl sighed heavily and kicked her rhinestone clad shoes on the chair. Her father was busy speaking with the other men and Lucy knew enough not to bother them. Plus, she was rather upset with him at the moment; he had been grumpy all day, and she didn’t quite understand why.

She scanned the bar with her eyes, stopping on a Jukebox machine in the corner. It's brilliant colors and flashing lights were beckoning the little girl over. She slid off the chair and made her way to the machine, her Cinderella shoes lighting up blue and pink the whole time.

The machine was colossal compared to her small stature and the dials needed to work the machine were far out of arm's reach, so she just stood staring up at it, a little lost as to what purpose it served.

“You need some help?” a voice asked.

Lucy adjusted her gaze to see a man standing next to the Jukebox. He was holding a telephone in one hand and a phone book in the other.

Lucy knew enough not to talk to strangers, so she shook her head, shrinking back a little.

The man set the phone back on the receiver, and took up a chair from one of the nearby tables to put in front of the jukebox.

He held onto the chair’s back and gestured for her to climb on but Lucy wasn’t moving.

The man reached into his pocket, and pulled out a badge for her to see. She examined it, still a little skeptical.

“Are you a police officer?” She asked.

“That I am,” the man said, cracking a bit of a smile.

“Then why aren't you in your blue clothes?” She said.

The man got to a knee so he could be level with Lucy. He looked very serious as he lowered his voice to speak. “Because I'm hunting bad guys, but we can’t let them know that we’re cops. Or else they will run away from us.”

She nodded thoughtfully, that made sense, “but there are no bad guys here.”

“Bad guys, or girls like to hide in nice towns like this. That's why you have to be extra careful at all times. Got it?”

Lucy nodded.

“Lulu?” Frankie said, walking up to the two of them. “Lulu you can’t run off like that you almost gave daddy a heart attack.

The cop stood, concealing his badge in his pocket once more.

“I hope she wasn’t bothering you” Frankie said, eyeing the man.

The cop shook his head “not at all.”

Frankie hesitated a moment. “Sorry, are you new to the area? I don’t remember ever seeing you around.”

The man shook his head “just passing through.”

Frankie nodded, starting to walk away “well, I hope you enjoy your stay in July.”

The man gave a polite smile and turned back to reading the phone book.

Frankie couldn’t place why, but the man unnerved him. It went beyond the fact that he was clearly drunk; it was something more. Something deeper. Whatever it was, Frankie knew enough not to stick around.

The entire table of men were on high alert, staring at the man as Lucy and Frankie got back to the table.

“Lulu,” Frankie sighed, “we’ve gone over this. Daddy would have given you money if you wanted to play with the jukebox. Please, just ask before you run off. Okay.”

Lucy nodded, scrunching up her face with guilt.

Frankie leaned in to press a kiss to the top of the little girl’s head and glanced back to where the man was standing, but he was gone.

It was evening when you woke up again. You could tell by the lack of light filtering under the bathroom door. Your stomach ached, and you knew you couldn’t stay locked in the bathroom forever. You stood, and fumbled around in your vanity drawers to find the lighter you kept near the candle on the sink. You had left the light on when you fell asleep, the fact that they were off now meant the power must have gone out while you were sleeping.

It seemed as though your anxiety had tripled upon waking and you didn't really understand why. Perhaps it was because it was dark, or that you were still upset about Frankie….but whatever it was it made you start to panic.

‘No’ you thought ‘you’re being crazy. Get up and be an adult.’

Finally, you were able to light the candle, and force yourself to unlock the door. You cracked it open just an inch and peaked out into your bedroom, The room was dark, but empty. You reached over to the light and flicked the switch but nothing happened.

You wanted to move so badly but it felt as though your feet were cemented to the floor. You wished Frankie was here with you or that you could talk to him on the phone, even just for a moment. He always seemed to be able to calm you down when you got like this.

Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating your bedroom for a brief moment. You were alone. There was nobody here with you. You were safe. It was fine. You were fine.

You drew in a slow breath, willing your heart rate to slow down enough to allow you to feel grounded again. You needed to grab some food, haul your blankets back onto the mattress where they belong and start planning out exactly what you were going to say to Frankie tomorrow.

It took a little time but you pried your feet from their spot on the floor and started to make your way to the kitchen. The sliding glass door in the back showed only darkness.

You heard him before you saw him. His voice was soft and deep, like he had just woken up.

“Hey babe” he said, his breath hot on the back of your neck.

You felt him step closer, snake a hand around your waist and splay it out across your stomach.

Your breath seized in your throat and your heart felt like it suddenly stopped pumping. Terror was an odd feeling; like diving into an icy lake in the middle of winter. It is painful at first, until that pain gave way to total numbness, or in your case, sadness.

You had come so far, sacrificed so much, had a taste of a life you only ever dream about….. and none of it mattered. He had found you, just as he always did. You did a good job; you did the best you could, and it was worth it in the end.

“David,” you said, holding back tears as he placed kisses on your hair and nuzzled the side of your neck. You could feel the barrel of the gun through your clothing; the metal cold against your ribs. As you shut your eyes and lifted a shaking hand to gently touch his hair, all you could think about was the fact that you would never get to tell Frankie or Lucy how deeply you had loved them both.

#pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #triple frontier fanfic #Frankie fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #Frankie Morales fanfic #Frankie catfish morales #catfish fanfiction #tw: domestic abuse #tw: injury #tw: alcohol #tw: police violence #tw: anxiety

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frankenhookersmonster · 2 years

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fictober day twenty five - noises

warnings - 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, smut x afab!reader (p in v), crying kink

word count - 343

fictober masterlist - masterlist

twitter - ko-fi

got something to say? a request or concept? speak!!!

a/n - the eddie one... woah

Frank loves to hear you curse at him when you have sex. Your words are often out of breath, groggy, your voice scratchy. There’s a lot you can do with swearing, sometimes it’s a lot of “Fuck, Frank, you’re so fucking big” and “Your dick feels so fucking good”, other times it’s some nonsense like “shit shit shit shit” and “fuck, ah, fuck me”. You can tell what it does to him, too, because you can always feel the way his dick would twitch inside of you at your words.

Matt likes to hear you say ‘please’. He’s a tease, likes to be in charge. He likes when you beg for it, pleading with him to hit deeper. He’d have you pinned up on the bed, your hands above your head and your eyes closed, only unintelligible whines coming from your lips. “What do you say, love?” He taunted, slowly inching his way inside of you. “Please, Matt. Please please please.” He’d flash you a smile, finally indulging you with his full cock.

Eddie wants to hear you cry. He likes having you face down in his sheets, his hands making bruises on your hips. He does most of the work, when he’s not trusting himself he’s pulling you back onto him. Your sobs are muffled, hands squeezing the comforter and toes curling. Eddie’s hand has a good grip on the back of your neck, lifting it briefly and letting your cries fill the room. He looks down at the pillow to see it soaked with your tears, and cums on the spot.

Steve likes when you hum. Your mouth’s always on his skin, on his arm, on his cheek, on his neck. When you're in his lap, all lazy and tired from a long day, you latch on to his shoulder. “Hmmm, Stevie.” Your mumblings leave him vibrating, giddy like he’s never been before. You always follow it with a kiss, something soft and delicate that tickles him. It doesn’t fail to make him blush, no matter how much you do it.

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imtryingmybeskar · 2 years

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I know these are coming at weird times...if only I could stick to a schedule!

Drabble 9 - Pero Tovar.

Pero Tovar x GN! Reader. You have a crush on the local blacksmith, grumpy though he is. Word count: 483

The fascination you feel in watching his movements borders on the hypnotic - the bunching of those strong back and arm muscles visible even by the low light of the forge and obscured under his rough shirt. Again and again he strikes the metal he is shaping, curls clinging sweatily to the nape of his neck and his brow.

You catch yourself and hurriedly cast your eyes down to the packed earthen floor instead. It would be very improper for you to be caught gaping, particularly since you seem to need fewer and fewer excuses to come by the smithy these days. The last couple of times your reasoning had been downright flimsy.

Not that it made a whit of difference to the handsome, rugged, moustachioed man in front of you. Young and old, male and female, friendly and reticent, he treats all townsfolk the same - with black looks and dour words and an air of impatience for them to begone and leave him be.

That same impatience precedes him into the room where you wait, a rush of heat accompanying him as he returns to the front of the smithy.

"Leave your horse," he grunts, his words flavoured with the accent of his native land. "I shall re-shoe him by and by. Though he threw only one today, the rest should also be renewed."

You shake your head sadly. "I am afraid I cannot afford for him to be completely re-shod at this time Mr. Tovar," you confess. "One shoe is fine."

He raises one expressive eyebrow at you and for the first time since you have met him, you catch a glimpse of humour within the man. "Yet what is this, if not payment?" he asks, gesturing toward the fresh baked fruit pie you had brought with you in the hope it would soften his demeanour toward you.

"It is no true payment-" you begin, but he interjects before you can complete your sentence.

"This is my smithy, my shop," he rumbles, the impatience once again audible in his words. "I shall take the payment I see fit. And your skill with food is oft talked about by others. I wish to see what the fuss is all about." His moustache twitches in what you hope is the hint of a smile and when he speaks again it is in a far gentler tone than you have ever heard from him. "Come back in two hours," he instructs. "Your horse shall be ready then."

His gazes brushes against yours and the warmth in his brown eyes shocks you, plastering a smile across your face that you couldn't have hidden even if you tried. "Hermosa," he mutters to himself before turning back to his work, leaving you wondering about what that word could mean, and dearly hoping that this would not be the last time he looked at you in such a way.

#pero tovar #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x gn! reader #drabble #drabble challenge

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imtryingmybeskar · 11 months

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Thought it might be time for a little sneak peek of Come Home Chapter 24 because why not?

The bunk next to the one Joel is occupying is vacant, and you begin to prepare it for your own rest. You don’t want to wake him, so you’re as quiet as you can be, but he stirs anyway as you shuffle the bedding and pillows around, cracking one eye open and humming sleepily. “C’mere,” he husks, his voice low and sleep laden. “You need rest,” you say softly as you go to him and stroke your hand softly over the greying scruff at his cheek. “Sleep better with you. C’mere,” he insists again, and when you hesitate for a second longer he takes you by the wrist and drags you in to the tiny space, shuffling backward so his back is against the wall to give you more room in the bed.

Taglist - @thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascalwrites @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42 @shirks-all-responsibilities @deadhumourist @pedrostories @abbyhaslongshorts @celebrtyskinz @majahu @sanscas @myloveistoolittle @ohthemisssery @harperdoodle @hummelmi @casssiopeia @midgetpottermills @rivierasunsetdiner @starkleila @nunya7394 @mumma-moonchild @thereaperisabitch

#come home #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic

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frankenhookersmonster · 2 years

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fictober day four - apple orchard, frank castle x reader

warnings - grump!frank castle x sunshine!reader, pure fluff

word count - 427

fictober masterlist - masterlist

twitter - ko-fi

got something to say? a request or concept? speak!!!

Domesticity scared Frank, he could admit that. He didn’t have a great track record with the things that came with it, so he kept his distance from anything resembling a normal life. You on the other hand loved little things, and being in a relationship with Frank meant a lot of dragging him around. He had never planned on getting into a relationship again, he wasn’t entirely sure how you had got to him, but somehow you did.

He was a grump, you knew that, and you couldn’t help but think it was fun to push his buttons every once in a while. You were always so positive, maybe his complete and total opposite, but it worked no matter how much the two of you playfully bickered.

The idea of apple picking bored Frank, you knew that. It didn’t stop you from bringing it up every day, mentioning how it reminded you of your childhood and whatnot. Every time he’d huff, shake his head and laugh it off. He couldn’t be stern with you, try as he might, and maybe that’s why he ended up in the car with you driving to some far off farm to pick fucking apples.

You were hardly focusing on the road, telling stories of when you and your family would go to the orchard by your house every fall. You were gesturing with your hands, apologizing profusely when Frank would reach over and steady the wheel for you. He barely made a peep, not in the car, and not when you walked up to get your baskets and find some good trees.

He was being standoffish, holding a basket as you stood on your toes to twist apples off of a branch. Frank watched as you dropped them into his bag, looking into your eyes when you smiled up at him and guided him to the next tree. You took his hand in yours, wrapping your fingers together and tugging him along. He blushed a bit, tried to cover it up with a sigh, then looked off at the field before dragging his attention to the back of your head.

“Are you having fun, Frankie?” You asked, swiveling your head to look at him with wide eyes, an ecstatic smile plastered cheek to cheek. He wasn’t having a fantastic time, he’d much rather be home doing anything else. But he was here with you watching you, seeing how excited you were for something so mundane. He enjoyed his time with you, and that was enough to make him nod and grin.

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imtryingmybeskar · 2 years

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Drabble 6 - Dieter Bravo.

Dieter Bravo x GN! Reader. No physical descriptors of reader. Mentions of sex but no other warnings. I love a messy, chaotic actor man. Word count: 236

"Uhhh...hi. I have something important to ask you."

You looked up from your book at the sound of his voice. He loomed, his large hands resting widely on the table in front of you.

Disheveled was the best word to describe Dieter Bravo. The grey t-shirt that seemed permanently affixed to his body was crumpled and stained, despite the free laundry services offered in the hotel. His face was animated, eyes ablaze with whatever illicit pick me up he had imbibed this morning, and his hair was a delightful tangle of soft curls that stuck up in a wild halo of chaos around his head. A musky, sleepy, spicy incense smell wafted into your nostrils and you found yourself amazed at how good he still smelt despite appearances.

"What is it, Mr. Bravo?"

"D'you wanna have sex w'me?"

The words tumbled from those pouty lips in a messy jumble, his gaze catching and pinning you with an intensity that pleaded no rejection. In the brief moment of silence that followed his question he shifted nervously from foot to foot, one hand rubbing roughly over the solid black of the tattooed triangle on his arm.

"Yes."

A rush of relieved exhilaration behind his eyes as he exhaled a breath. "Amazing!"

"Wait, has anyone actually ever turned you down?!" you asked incredulously.

"Oh you have no idea!" he replied forcefully as he led you from the room.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x gn! reader #drabble #drabble challenge

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imtryingmybeskar · 2 years

Text

Drabble 21 - Max P.

You and Max are attending a Halloween party. This is just pure self indulgence. I would give pretty much anything to see Pedro in a Frank-N-Furter get up! Also a woman dressed as Schrodinger's cat is the best costume I've ever seen.

Max Phillips x GN! Reader. Very mild sexual touching. Word count: 418

“Max c’mon! We’re going to be late!”

You’re fixing your hair in the mirror, adjusting your bunches and straightening the cat ears in front of them.

While you hadn’t particularly wanted to be a “sexy” anything for the Halloween party tonight, Max had taken one look at you in your catsuit when you had tried it on and declared that it was impossible for you not to look sexy in it. Which was pretty flattering, you had to admit as you check your make up in the mirror for the third time.

The compromise you had reached with yourself was that you wanted to make the costume a little different. So, half of your face now has standard whiskers, cat eye make up, a little triangle of pink on your nose. While the other half is done up to look like the skull of a cat in glow in the dark face paint that you hope won't come off too easily during the night's festivities. Some of the catsuit is painted too – bones appearing over half of your body and one arm and leg.

Satisfied that your outfit looks great, you grab the cardboard box that completes it and call out again.

“Max! What’s taking so-“

At the sound of the bedroom door opening you look up and it feels like all the air rushes out of your lungs at once.

“Helloooo sweet thing,” he says, his attempt at a Received Pronunciation accent truly terrible. But you can forgive it. You can forgive anything at the sight of him in make up, a basque, fishnets and heels.

“Fuuuuu-“ is all you manage before he is upon you and sweeping you into his arms.

“You like?” he asks in his usual accent, a slight anxiety behind the bravado the costume affords.

“Dr Frank-N-Furter. You look incredible,” you breathe. “Do you…I mean…do we have to go out?” you splutter as you run your hands over the sequins covering his torso and down to the extremely flattering leather underwear he was wearing.

He bats your hand away gently before he replies. “Yes we do. We’ve both worked way too hard on these costumes. Besides, I’m pretty sure everyone thinks I’ll come as Dracula, and I wanna show them how good I look in heels.”

You huff a noise of mild annoyance. “Fiiine. But you better keep allll of this on when we get home!”

“I will if you will kitty-cat,” he grins as you leave for your evening together.

Taglist: @thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascal @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42 @shirks-all-responsibilities

#max phillips #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #drabble challenge #drabble #Pedrotober

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frankenhookersmonster · 2 years

Text

fictober day ten - on top

warnings - 18+MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, smut x afab!reader (p in v), pet names

word count - 324

fictober masterlist - masterlist

twitter - ko-fi

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a/n - the idea of riding steve is making me go brhrvryfgvrwg

Frank loves having you in his lap. He loves manhandling you, and that includes throwing you on top of him. He loves your tits in his face, he loves the way you claw at his chest. He loves all of it, could probably die happy underneath your cunt. Your hands would come to Frank’s shoulders, nails digging into the skin to get a better grip, grinding down onto him further and further. “Yeah, use me, sweetheart. Almost there.”

Matt is a pretty dominant guy, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy having you on top. He’s still in charge, but he likes when you think you are. You cling to him, screw your eyes shut, bite down on his shoulder to muffle your moans. He’s doing most of the work, actively thrusting into you while you bob along with his movements. “That’s it, angel, you’ve got it.”

Eddie likes when you crawl on top of him in the mornings. He likes being half asleep and feeling you feel up his body. There’s a lot of sloppy kisses, mixed in with Eddie’s morning voice. His vision is glazed, but he can still make you out in one of his shirts, nipples hard and visible through the fabric. Sex like that was never serious, it was full of giggles butterfly kisses. “Love when you wake me up like this, babe, fuck.”

Steve goes feral when you ride him. He’d pull you into his lap, letting his fingers bore bruises into your skin while you rolled your hips over his. Your foreheads would meet, pressed together while you both tried to catch your breath. The room was sweaty, your body was damp and rubbed against his warmth. It was always intimate like this, neither of you felt the need to say much apart from moans of pleasure. Every once in a while Steve would speak up, speaking between kisses to your head. “So pretty like this, baby.”

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imtryingmybeskar · 2 years

Text

Drabble 5 - Marcus Pike. This is longer than a drabble because I can't shut up about Mr. Pike.

Marcus Pike x GN! Reader. There are also no racial descriptors of reader here. No warnings, just fluffy fluff and adoration. Word count: 473.

Condensation misted the window in front of you, obscuring your view of the outside world. The only thing to fight through the fog were the Christmas lights decorating the tree on the lawn, their multi coloured beacons coming and going as they danced their merry pattern. You sighed deeply and rolled your shoulders, trying to rid yourself of the ache that was starting to build in your back.

A hand. Broad and big and warm it slipped around your waist swiftly followed by the second, and you sighed with rapt completion and allowed yourself to relax back into his embrace, your hands sliding down over his own to hold them. He nuzzled at your ear - warm breath making you shiver - and delicately kissed your temple.

"I thought I told you to go and relax," you murmured, feeling his smile grow against your skin. The lilt of it in his words when he replied set your heart soaring within you.

"It just smells too damn good in here. I had to come and investigate. It is my job after all."

You breathed a laugh through your nose. "I thought you investigated art theft."

"Mmmm...investigating your cooking sounds far more rewarding."

You stood there, basking in the company of the other for an unknown, endless length of time. What you did know for an absolute certainty was that his soft smile matched yours.

"Can I ask you something?" The murmured question felt like a low rumble vibrating through his chest as it pressed against your back. You squeezed his hand, nodded, and he gently turned you on the spot to face him.

As soon as you looked at his face you knew. Knew the question that had plagued his thoughts, knew the spectre of the rejection that haunted him, admired his bravery in risking himself again like this.

You stared at him, this beautiful, boundlessly charming man. The epitome of sweetness and caring. The love of your life. Everything slowed, time elogated as your eyes drank him in. His dark hair, longer than it was when you had met him, falling over his forehead, and beginning to show its natural curl at the back. His lips, plush and plump and inviting and currently being wet by his tongue in a gesture of nervous apprehension. His dimple flashed as he did - a tiny detail of his face that somehow served to make him impossibly more handsome. And his eyes! Always so soft and kind, but currently threaded through with tentativeness.

Moving forward you pressed yourself against him, your hand sliding over his chest until you found the thrum of his heartbeat, the fluttering in his chest testament to his anxiety. You kissed him, soft and slow and deep, pouring your answer to his unspoken offer of forever into every movement of your lips upon his.

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x gn!reader #drabble #drabble challenge

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