Aw I Love Your Recent Frankie Imagine! Hope To See Additional Ones To That Story, Or Just More In General!

Aw I love your recent Frankie imagine! Hope to see additional ones to that story, or just more in general! I really like your writing style 👍🏼

I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU!!!!!! you’ve made my day anon <3333 if you’d like to see more, i love getting requests and they’re always open! big love!!!

when you sleep with him for the first time headcanons

note—it gets a little suggestive during oberyn's part, but nothing too crazy. i use sleep here in it's purest form by the way, so enjoy! let me know if you have any ideas for the next one! me and the boys are open to suggestions ;)

MANDO

- mando has always allowed you his bunk to sleep, whenever you like

- when you stayed with him on the razor crest and watched the kid, he was always more than willing to give it up anytime you needed sleep

- he didn't sleep much anyway, and usually your sleeping schedules didn't overlap

- but boba fett's ship doesn't have much space to begin with, let alone enough space for all of the crew mates he's happened to find recently

- which mean's you and mando, having already been living together and already know each other, were sleeping together, in the same small bunk, at the same time

- he offered to sleep on the floor, or pressed up against the wall

- but you got mad at him for even suggesting such a thing

- there was more than enough space for the two of you to sleep, you argued, though there was barely enough room for one

- it was comical, trying to press up against him, and find a spot comfortable enough for the both of you to lay

- it was jarring to you when he removed a single pauldron for you to rest your head on his clothed shoulder

- you felt like you had violated him in some way, seeing him just the lightest bit more bare than usual

- though you were slightly uncomfortable from the rest of the beskar pressing up into your body, you were lulled to sleep in minutes from the sound of his steady heartbeat

EZRA

- the cots had never been a long term solution

- that you knew

- so when the morning comes around, and your cot drops your ass on the floor, you wish you gotten new sleeping arrangements the last time you were in town

- you were just wishing it had taken longer for them to fall apart the way they had

- there wasn't much on the green, in terms of furnishing markets

- the cots had been the only barrier between you and the floor, and now, there was nothing protecting you from the frigid, uninsulated ground of your broken down ship

- it was ezra who offered up the idea: put one blanket down on the floor, and use the other one to cover the both of you with

- you took a second to ponder it, thinking of any idea, any reason that could be used to save you from having to sleep next to ezra, the man who had been so warm and kind to you, but you had frozen him out, because of your ridiculous crush on him

- you offered up the idea of just disassembling the cots and using the cloths as protection from the cold

- but this wiseass pulls out the cloth from the cot and his blanket and compares the two, and there's no way the cloth is going to have any integrity making contact with the ground

- so you agree, and when nightfall comes, you're too exhausted from harvesting all day to fight with him

- he puts his blanket down as protection, and you all but collapse on top of in

- ezra does you the service of tucking you in, before climbing in next to you, and you're soothed by his warmth

- not soothed enough that you fall asleep immediately, still unnerved by the idea of sleeping so close to him, hearing him breathe, feeling him move

- but he throws his good arm over your body and pulls you into him, muttering something about the cold

- and your heart melts just a little bit as you fall asleep, pressed up against his chest

FRANKIE

- frankie had been upset for weeks after his divorce, which was to be expected

- but everything had been so stressful on him, and you were getting worried for his mental health

- he hadn't been answering calls, he'd cancelled plans with you last minute, which is something he never did, and he hadn't been doing anything for himself, just living in a rut of paperwork, sleeping, eating, and going to work

- so when he calls you up to ask you to go camping with him, you obviously say yes

- it's almost a two hour drive to the campsite, and frankie is fairly quite, which isn't usual, but you get some good music going and some good conversation going, and soon enough, you and frankie are laughing and singing your heads off on your way there

- it's getting dark when you arrive, and you make quick work of getting everything out of his car when he realizes something is off

- "oh no" he exclaims, and you fear the worst

- "what? what's wrong?"

- "I brought the small tent."

- "how small is the small tent?"

- "i brought the four-person tent, not the ten person tent."

- "are you kidding frankie? i'm sure we'll fit in a four-person—“

- "i'm telling you, it's not as big as you think it is, trust me."

- when the tent is complete, four-person is an exaggeration

- it's a four-person tent if the four-people were sardine packed and the size of children

- it's going to be just enough room for both you and frankie to lie down in with your sleeping bags

- but that's for a later time, because frankie has marshmallows to roast and lots of things to tell you after he's been ignoring you for a whole week

- he apologizes and you sit next to him at the firepit on your site, and you listen to him talk, and give him advice, and rest your head on his shoulder

- and when it's late into the night and you two go to retreat to bed, you have to squish up against his broad shoulders that seem so much broader in the small tent

- and when he wakes with nightmares of his fighting buddies and far too many sleepless nights, he pulls you close to him, and falls asleep again, until the sunlight streams through the front flap of the tent far too early in the morning

WHISKEY

- that day’s mission was harsh

- it had you spent, not only physically, but mentally as well

- as you lie awake in your bed, you realize you’re not getting to sleep tonight, whether or not you had another important mission that morning

- the hotel bed was creaky and entirely not your bed from home and the air conditioner was broken so it was freezing

- you figure there’s no better time than the present, and you’re well aware whiskey is right next door

- if he’s awake, you’ll ask him to have a drink with you, and if he’s asleep, you can just hop into bed with him

- he’s a deep sleeper anyway

- you’re careful turning the knob into his room, just in case he’s asleep, and you spot him in his bed, on his side, breathing softly, room cloaked in darkness

- you come around on his side of the bed and you whisper his name

- he stirs a little

- you debate going back to your room and just toughing it out, but he doesn’t give you the chance

- he’s up, groggy and hair tousled and in just a plain t-shirt

- “sweetheart? what are you doin’ here? what’s goin’ on?”

- you tell him you didn’t want to sleep alone tonight, and he wipes the sleep from his eyes and squints at you, using only the moonlight to help him see

- “what kind of gentleman would i be if i refused you my bed?”

- this makes you smile, and he lifts the covers for you to get in with him

- you plant your head on his shoulder and drape an arm over his chest, cozying up to him as close as possible

- his hand rests comfortably on your back, and he breathes rhythmically

- and you’re silently grateful he doesn’t ask questions, just lets you curl up into his side ands lets you fall asleep with him there

JAVIER PEÑA

- it happened in a flurry of passion and kisses, hands roaming his body and yours after a far too close dance with death

- if it had not been for his bulletproof vest, he'd be lying in a hospital or a morgue

- but he wasn't

- his body was warm and so was yours and the ride to his apartment was far too quiet for your liking and his

- it was only appropriate you accompanied him for a drink after such a great victory for the DEA, but it had taken a toll on both of you, mentally

- you more so than him, which is why you ended up drinking much more than you normally would have when you drank with javi

- he tried to laugh away the stress, complaining about his sore and bruised ribs, but the room was still tense

- emotions ran rampant through your body, and when he brings it up, tears start to pool in your eyes at the thought seeing him for the last time, in a suit, at his own funeral he wouldn't attend if he had the choice

- he sets his drink down and pulls you into his arms, holding your waist and cupping the back of your neck, stroking behind your ear as he listens to you cry softly in his shoulder

- he reassures you he's fine, nothing happened to him, and you pull away from him, grab his face, and stare into his eyes

- he smiles kindly at your own red ringed eyes, irritated from crying, as you try to memorize each streak of brown in his own

- it's too much for the both of you, and you pull him into a kiss

- his mouth is surprisingly soft compared to your own drunk passion, and as much as he'd love to take you right then and there on his couch, he knows he'd regret it if you woke up the next morning and regretted it too

- so he entertains the kiss, not that he minds, and leads you to his bedroom

- where the silk sheets and heavy comforter that smell so strongly of javier peña pull you to sleep next to him, faster than you'd like to admit

MARCUS MORENO

- missy and your daughter had always gotten along very well

- you were very familiar with marcus, and could even call yourselves friends to an extent

- your daughters were very intelligent little girls, and knew that if they got the two of you talking when you came to pick your daughter from his house, they would have at least another hour to play while you two chatted endlessly about boring adult things

- for missy's birthday party, she had wanted all of her friends over for a huge sleepover, and of course her father caved

- he couldn't say no to her no matter how much he tried

- marcus, the genius he was, figured that if the kids were all under one roof having fun, why not let the adults have fun too?

- everyone was invited

- the kids would have lots of different fun activities to choose from, from swimming, to games in the backyard, and a movie night under the stars outside

- and the adults were welcome to stay, chat, drink, and play adult card games marcus had saved for special occasions

- the night of the sleepover, a dozen children and adults were packed into his backyard, watching some new movie he had rented the missy was excited about

- but it was freezing, and you hadn't expected to be outside for so long

- marcus realizes this and he leans over quietly, so not to disturb the movie

- "are you cold?"

- "oh! no, it's okay, i'll be fine—“ you try to excuse yourself, but he gets up without a word, and returns with a sweatshirt of his

- it fits snugly over your head, and completely eliminated the chill in your bones

- it doesn't take long for your eyes to start getting heavy, and soon enough, you're passed out on marcus' shoulder

- "what if we camp out here for the night?" he suggests, and the kids are more than excited

- the adults know what he's up to

- but they let him anyway

- it'll be great to tease him about later, and besides, you guys are adorable together

MARCUS PIKE

- working together with marcus was always a joy

- he was always very respectful and funny

- you knew he had his heart broken more than once in the past, so even though you dropped hints that you'd want something more with marcus, you let him take it at his own pace

- when you dropped by his place that night, with important new documents you had received right before you left work and chinese food, you're ecstatic when he lets you in

- you spend hours pouring over the documents, making sure every single detail was covered and examined, when you realize how tired you are, and how loud the rain is coming down outside his window

- "it's getting really late. i should leave," you say, but marcus stops you

- "you could always, y'know, stay the night if you wanted. i'd let you have my bed."

- you smiled at him, but politely decline, as you wouldn't want to kick him out of his bed, but you yawn again

- "look, you're exhausted, and it's pouring" he points out, "you know most accidents happen by people falling asleep behind the wheel when it's raining?"

- you laugh at him

- "you just made that up,"

- "i did, but you should stay. if you don't want to i totally understand, but you'd be missing out. my bed is really comfortable."

- "is that why you're always late to work?" you quip, and close the files

- he gasps in mock shock

- "that was one time, and my alarm didn't go off," he claims, smiling at you

- he lends you a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and you pretend to not see a slight blush on his face when you walk out into his bedroom with them on

- marcus was right when he said his bed was really comfortable

- somehow, in the middle of the night, you two find each other, his face pressed into your shoulder, your arms wrapped around him, and the rain comes down even harder

MAX PHILLIPS

- "i just need some space from him, is all."

- that's all you had to tell him for max phillips to be on your side, rubbing your shoulder and telling you that all men suck anyway, you didn't need that jerk of a boyfriend to be happy

- well, now ex-boyfriend

- of course he had ulterior motives, and you knew this, but you didn’t care

- your heart wanted someone to watch movies with and eat a pint of ice cream out of the tub with you, and if max was the one who would do that, you’d settle with him for the night

- the way he pulled you into his arms, and pressed his body up against yours, was more than comforting

- he made funny jokes, tried tickling you, anything he could think of to get you to smile for him

- and for the most part, you did

- you were sick of your ex bringing the mood down the way he did, no matter how much you missed him

- the movie has gotten boring a long time ago, but you listened to max’s breathing, and felt his chest rise and fall behind you, and it was enough to lull you to sleep

- and he would’ve woken you up, to take you to his bed, but he was scared you’d leave to go home if he did

- so he took his couch throw, pulled it over the two of you, turned off the television, and settled back as you got comfortable on his chest

- this was a side of max phillips you’d never seen before, and you didn’t expect to see any time soon

- so you relished in it, and let sleep pull you in

MAXWELL LORD

- his head aches, and his eye is still bleeding on the plane back to washington d.c.

- the ride back is silent, save for the rumbling of the engine

- he rests his head against the wall of the airplane for most of the ride there, and you take comfort in knowing while he’s asleep, he’s not in pain

- when he starts getting restless, having what you think is a nightmare, you start holding his hand, stroking your thumb up and down his soft skin

- it takes him a minute, but he calms down, and you don’t let go of his hand

- with nothing to do but watch him sleep, you decide taking a nap too would be your best option

- which is when the plane hits a particularly rough patch of turbulence

- he bounces awake, nervous and alert, and you tell him it’s just the plane, everything’s fine

- when you pull him into your shoulder, he takes the opportunity to fall back asleep

- you can feel the tension in his neck just by having him rest his head on your shoulder

- you keep a firm grip on his hand, when your own eyes start to get heavy

- your head rests on his, and the rest of the ride there is smooth and painless

OBERYN MARTELL

- he had been pursuing you for quite some time

- as the second son of a king, he was more than accustomed to people saying yes to appease him

- he was forward with you, and you were forward back with him, and he liked that

- it was your words that told him you weren't looking for anything long term, that if he were to pleasure you, and you him, he would be nothing more than a simple one night stand

- boy did he prove you wrong

- your legs were so weak afterward, you couldn't bare to get up

- he took incredibly good care of you, squeezing your sore thighs and rubbing your aching muscles, pressing kisses up and down your back, brushing the hair out of your face

- it only increased your attraction to him when he brought in more people, caring for them and having them care for you, and by the time you had finished, you felt as though you couldn't physically go another round that night

- he purred in your ear that every night with him would be a night like this, and you whined back, making him grin and capture your mouth in a passionate kiss

- you didn't mean to fall sleep with him, but all the nibbling bites at your ear and the serotonin coursing through your veins had you spent for the night

- he let you sleep, and even stayed for a while before being summoned for an important meeting

- you made a mental note that eventually, you two would need to do that again, because you slept like a baby the whole night through

PERO TOVAR

- it's below freezing when you settle down for sleep that night

- no matter how much wind the tent tried to keep out, it just wasn't enough

- you're bundled up in all the clothes you had brought with you, the only blanket that could be spared, anything that could try to keep you warm, but nothing’s working

- the cold just bleeds through the blanket and your clothes, into your legs and chest and bones so that you can’t fall asleep if you tried

- you figure the only way you’ll be able to get any rest to be ready for the next day, is to go find a warmer place to sleep

- if the fire’s still going, you’ll rest there

- you shiver as you pick up your things, but your interrupted by tovar, who comes in with a thick fur blanket wrapped around his shoulders

- “where are you going?”

- “i was just going to sleep next to the fire,” you say, trying to keep the chill out of your voice

- “it’s going to be cold tonight. lay down.” he instructs, and you oblige

- he lays the blanket down over you and climbs underneath it next to you, so that your shoulders touch and watch him for a second before he turns over and tries to go to sleep without a word

- you pull the blanket up to your shoulders and you feel ten times warmer already, but it’s the heat from tovar that really entices you

- so you push back against him, your back against his, and fall asleep with the warmth of his muscles against yours

about

name natalie, but i'm open to nicknames!

years eighteen

home boston, usa

‘nouns she/her

star sign sagittarius

alignment chaotic good

personality enfp-a

love language quality time

hogwarts house gryffindor

overview 

Hey! My name's Natalie! Welcome to my humble abode, feel free to make yourself comfortable! Kick off your shoes, I'll get you a drink, and you can take a look around! Here is where I write fanfiction about my favorite characters, mainly from Star Wars and Marvel, but it’s open to anything else I've been infatuated recently. I write when I feel like it, and my posts reflect that. I’m always accepting requests!

Some things that may or may not make you fall in love with me: I'm a great dancer but only when nobody's watching. I still make pinky promises. My showers are always hot and super long—I do my best thinking in there. I fall in love just a little bit with every single person I meet. I really like it when people who wear glasses come inside from being outside for a while and their glasses fog up, and when waitresses carry lots and lots of plates at the same time, and also when people point out the stars they know on a clear night. My chocolate ranking is as follows: dark, milk, white, and no I'm not accepting criticism. Black lives matter, science is real, no human is illegal, women's rights are human rights, kindness is everything. I hope you stick around, because I love love love making friends AND talking to people! Maybe throw me a cheesy pickup line in my DMs or messages, but most of all, I hope you enjoy your stay here on my blog!

elsewhere

@muddleofmarvel on Tumblr

my personal blog where i gush about my interests, also where most of my interaction and messages come from!

@pitaparka on Archive of Our Own

my favorite site to read fanfiction, but also where i repost some of my own fics

favorites

loves music, books, car rides, writing

likes comedy specials, guitar playing, camping, taking pictures

dislikes racists, heels, walruses, soda

a steadfast heart will conquer

summary: you show up at frankie’s doorstep in the middle of the night after your boyfriend gets violent. he invites you in and lets you stay with him.

pairings: frankie morales x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of bruises

At midnight, you speak in fragments.

“I’m at your front door.”

He’s more asleep than awake. He doesn’t have the brain to question you.

“It’s raining.”

He can tell. He can hear it through the phone and from his bedroom window.

“Can you come let me in? Please?” You ask, and before he can say anything, you hang up. He stares at his phone, but figures there’s a girl at his front door, waiting to be let in.

He takes a second to unlock the door, in his groggy state, and sure enough, there you are, in all your midnight glory, on his front doorstep. It’s more romantic in movies, he thinks.

There’s nobody outside except for you. The streets are desolate, and the lamplight is obscured by the pouring rain. It thuds off of your car that’s parked in his driveway, and he knows it’ll bleed in through the crack in the door that doesn’t quite meet the frame.

He’ll help you fix it tomorrow.

But right now, you lean into him, slowly, and wrap your arms around his neck. You're wet, he notes. Wet and cold. He’s sure you're soaked down to your socks. Hair, jacket, shoes, all dripping onto his hardwood floor. You're still on the steps, so he pulls you in, but you refuse to untangle yourself from him. The wind sounds even harder now with the two of you inside.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he mutters, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. He pulls back to look at your face, but you're buried deep in his chest. He wishes it was under different circumstances.

The pouring rain punctuates every silence. He can feel you shaking.

You don’t answer.

He lets you not answer.

There’s a storm brewing in his chest. He has a sickening premonition as to why you’re here. He tries to ignore it, but his gut instinct is always right.

He shuffles awkwardly to close the door, and it muffles the rain. He can hear you sniffling now.

“What happened?”

There is only moonlight streaming in from the window over the couch. You keep your face buried in his chest when he flicks the light on. It’s harsh and bright and he grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you back to look at him but you don't remove your face from his warm, dry chest.

So he waits.

“What’s wrong?” he asks again, softer, in your ear. You rub your forehead on his worn t-shirt, and his arms find their way around your shoulders.

You find the strength to look at him from somewhere deep inside you, eyes red and swollen, eyelashes dark with tears. You squint almost imperceptibly, adjusting to the light. You’ve never felt more safe than in his embrace. Your noses almost touch.

The last and only thing he wants to do is kiss you.

He notices the red mark right away.

On your temple. His eyes soften. You watch him look at you, almost like it’s the first time.

“He hit me,” you say, congested from the tears.

Like he doesn’t notice. Like he doesn’t feel anger shoot up into his chest, heat and warmth and fire in his fingertips, down the back of his calves and aching his face. His sickening premonition coming true. He can’t come up with a single reason as to why he would do this to you. It makes fury throb in his bones. He can see your boyfriend throwing the punch and it makes him want to vomit how enraged he is.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks sincerely.

“Want me to hurt him? I’ll hurt him, you know I will. I’ll hurt him so bad,” he trails off, jaw hard and teeth grinding. Nostrils flared and lip twitching.

“No.”

He watches you rest your head on his chest, the side that your good-for-nothing dick stick didn’t punch, and he’s so careful with you, soft hands and rigid muscles.

“I just...” you start, and he’s listening. He’s listening to every word.

“I didn’t want him to hurt me. And I didn’t want to hurt him. So I... left. I went and sat in the CVS parking lot,” you admit. He figures you needed someone to talk to. He wanted someone to listen to. He’s wide awake now. He still has fight in his blood, so he repurposes it. He holds you, securely. Strong and firm.

“I was gonna fight back... but I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, I really didn’t.” you say. He closes his eyes. He steadies his breathing. How could someone so sweet, so powerful, so kind, end up with the exact antithesis of all of those things?

“I know,” he reassures, “I know you didn’t.”

You sigh shakily into his chest. He’s there for you. He’s steadfast and unwavering. You could collapse into him and you trust he would catch you, help you up, dust you off, or in your case, dry you off. But you don’t. You stand strong with him, and you let herself be supported by him. You yourself whole still. Shaky, and faltering, but whole, all by yourself. With him there, you feel a little steadier, resolute in your decisions. He supports you, and you love him for it.

“Can I stay here?” you ask.

“Of course,” he replies.

His clothes don’t fit you, but you don’t mind and neither does he.

Your hair smells like roses and rain.

You take his bed; he takes the couch.

It’s hard for him to fall asleep there, but he doesn’t mind that, either.

It’s four AM when you wake him up for the second time this morning. The grogginess is stronger than before, it seems. You’re on your knees in front of the couch, face level with him, and he jerks back in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” you say, placing a hand on his chest. His bare chest. His shirt is somewhere, he doesn’t care where. It got hot, he recalls.

“Y’scared me,” he mumbles. Would this girl let him get any sleep?

“Come sleep with me. I feel bad,” you say.

“Woke me up ‘cause y’feel bad?” he asks, and you can tell he’s irritated, but tired more than anything. Sleep carries heavily through his voice.

“No,” you clarify, “I woke you up ‘cause I had a nightmare.”

Now he’s the one that feels bad.

He lets you lead him to his own bed, but he makes a pit stop on the way to use the bathroom. He finds you curled up under his covers, staring at the doorway, waiting for him.

He smiles and joins you. He sleeps on his back. You sleep on your stomach.

He has one pillow. you have one too.

You both listen to each other breathe.

You throw an arm over his stomach. He rubs his thumb over your hand.

It’s not storming anymore, but you can both feel the electricity in the sky.

The old, squeaky mattress creaks as you move, swapping your pillow for his shoulder. It’s not as bony as you thought it would be.

You only wake up when his alarm goes off on the nightstand beside you.

You groan, and realize you’re curled up with someone in a bed that’s not your own. Your face aches as you relive the events of last night.

He wakes up when you shift to turn off the alarm, taking his time to notice you.

“Hey,” you say, in his shirt.

“Morning,” he yawns, not in his shirt.

“Thank you,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“No no no, don’t do that, don’t make it...” he trails, sitting up in bed. He rubs the sleep from his eyes again. All things considered, he got some decent sleep. He thinks it might have something to do with the warm body that was pressed up against him all night.

“No, really,” you say. You sit criss-cross on your side of the bed, and he has to remind himself that it’s his own bed (singular), not your bed (plural), and the whole bed is his bed. But for now, he can say it’s your side of the bed. At least to himself.

“Thank you for being there for me.” you say finally. He smiles at you.

“Of course.” He whines as he yawns, and things are okay for now. The storm is over.

“You want breakfast?” He asks, getting up and stopping at his dresser to put on shorts. His boxers were fine last night, but now that the sun is shining through the window, it’s kind of weird. He pulls on a shirt too.

“I have taquitos,” he says walking into his kitchen, and you squint at him, hot on his tail.

“Taquitos for breakfast?” you ask skeptically, and he makes his way over to the freezer.

“Taquito time is all the time.” He clarifies, taking the cardboard box from underneath a tub of ice cream and a bag of frozen peas. He freezes, before he turns around to look at you.

“Do you, uh, want some ice for that?” He says, and it takes you a second to realize what he means.

You touch the bruise softly, applying light pressure and wincing when it hurts.

He notices and puts the box down on the counter, wrapping the peas thoroughly in paper towels before handing them to you.

You nod a thank you, and hop up on his counter, holding them to your face.

He notices his shirt on you again, and his shorts on you, and how domestic this would be if that mistake hadn’t laid his hands on you. Though he does admit, you probably wouldn’t have been here in the first place without that run in.

He thinks he’d rather never see you again rather than have you come to him hurt like that.

He moves over to you, and carefully moves your head away from the cabinets holding the dish ware so he can open it. There’s tension in the air. He plates the taquitos and you listen to the buzz of the microwave as they warm up.

Neither of you touch your respective phones while you eat your taquitos. There are decisions to be made that will have consequences. You glance at your phone, but look away each time. Your eyes never meet. You both focus on the plate of miniature crunchy tortillas made with fake corn, filled with beef that was probably artificial. Neither of you mind.

After breakfast, or what could be sufficed as breakfast, he watches you finally check your phone.

“seventeen missed calls,” you read, “and thirty something texts.”

“Wow.”

“Not as crazy as I expected,” you note.

“Wanna see if he left any batshit voicemails?” you ask, grinning. He’s less than excited. Your smile falters as you read the texts.

“What? What’d he say?” he asks, getting up from the table to read over your shoulder. You make no move to hide the texts from him and something like relief floods his veins for a split second.

“Nothing,” you clarify, “just that... he’s so sorry… how he’s such a terrible person, that he’ll never do it again.”

He stares at you.

You ignore the messages and lock your phone.

You look up at Frankie.

“So?” he asks.

“So?” you ask back. He clears his throat.

“What are you gonna tell him?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, grabbing the empty plate and sliding past him. You turn on the faucet in the sink and wait for it to get hot.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, but you don’t respond.

You add soap to a sponge and start washing the minimal dishes there: a bowl, a few spoons, your plate, a whisky glass.

He stands by you, grabbing a hand towel from the countertop and wiping the dishes down before putting them away.

“Why don’t you have a drying rack?” you ask, as he puts away the last of the glasses.

“I dunno,” he says, “I don’t have that many plates and forks and stuff, so I just dry it and put it away as I go.”

“Hmm,” you remark, and turn off the faucet. He hands you the dish towel and you wipe your hands dry before folding it and placing it on the counter. You look at him and sigh. The elephant in the room is demanding your attention.

“What do you think I should tell him?”

He stares at your bruise, and he feels the anger from last night bubble up in his throat again.

“That you’re gonna send me to beat him the fuck up.” He says, and you roll your eyes, staring at him endearingly.

“I’m not getting back together with him.” you say, and he feels his heart do some weird stuff in his chest.

“It’s over for us. I’m breaking up with him the next time I see him.” you say, a finality in your words that make him confident you would do as you said.

“Good.” He crosses his arms and shifts his weight to one side.

“Should I go see him today?” you ask.

“Do you want to?” he questions. You sigh and shake your head.

“You’re no help.”

“Hey! I’m so much help,” he defends, and you smile at him.

“Sure.”

“I can go with you if you want,” he says seriously. You stare at him.

“If you want,” you offer, and he nods his head.

“Okay.” you say.

He watches you grab your phone and your now dry clothes and make your way into his bathroom. He listens as you close the door and waits until he hears the water start running, accompanied by soft music.

He squeezes the bridge of his nose and takes a second to examine the thawing bag of peas on his kitchen table.

He smiles to himself as he makes out the lyrics of your song.

As he puts the bag back in his freezer, he runs a nervous hand through his hair and stares at your car in his driveway.

He wants nothing more than to bruise you up himself, his mouth on your skin, his hands on your hips.

But that thought is fleeting. He gets closer to the bathroom and can hear you singing clearly, and he takes a second to listen before he speaks.

“Hey, I’m gonna go take a quick look at your car, okay?”

The water turns off.

“What?”

“I’m—I’m gonna go look at your car!” he says loudly, “the leaky door!”

There’s quiet for a moment before you’re unlocking the door, in only a towel. His towel.

“Thank you!” you beam, and with one hand clutching the towel to your chest, you hand him your car keys.

“They were in my pocket. It’d be kinda hard to get in without them,” you joke.

“Yeah, ‘course.” He grins lopsidedly, keeping his eyes a respectable distance from your naked torso.

With a smile, you close the door in his face.

The music resumes, as does the water, and Frankie breathes.

It would be a miracle if he made it through the day without sending someone to the hospital.

when you want him to choke you headcanons

note — NSFW. this bitch is kinky. obviously. lost of choking references, a little breathplay at the end there. all of the boys are willing in one way or another because pedro plays them, alright?? i believe in my heart that that man is kinky as hell. good morning and good night. happy superbowl. fuck you tom brady. big love to every one else besides tom brady <3

warnings: choking, penetrative sex, breathplay

MANDO

- is stunned

- you want him... to do what??

- excuse me??

- choke you?? like, with his hands??

- in the heat of the moment you guide his huge, bare hand to the softness of your throat

- he can feel the vibrations of your whimpers against the webbing of his hand and he almost blows his load right then and there

- the idea that he can wreck you like that gets him excited

- the first few times it gets his adrenaline pumping, but then he really starts to want to get closer to you, pull you in closer, fuck you on his lap in the cockpit while the baby naps in the pod

- he finds it interesting, all of these kinks, and never gets bored of them, but he's a simple man

- he's just glad you want to share these experiences with him and provide such a stable source of pleasure for him in his life that used to be so devoid of it

EZRA

- finds it quite hard to choke you with one hand, but willing to oblige you

- he's afraid of putting too much weight on your neck, so he refuses to do it in any position where he doesn't have much control

- but he ends up getting really into it

- he finds it so arousing, the dubious nature of it

- he likes the idea of being so in control of you, being able to control your breaths, your breathing

- he quite literally has your life in his hands, and it gets him rock hard

- he likes to control your moans, cut them off with his hand while you're riding him, pretending like you two have to be quiet

- will definitely ask you to let him do it again sometime

FRANKIE

- frankie is a little taken aback when you ask

- but you're so needy, mewling and whimpering underneath him

- he squeezes your jaw hard, and presses his mouth to it

- his husky voice reverberates against your nerves, and his lips move passionately across your skin before his hand moves to tilt your head up for better access

- it's like he can read your mind

- just the right pressure, just the right grasp, and can easily read when it starts to become uncomfortable

- he loves the way you anchor yourself to him by grabbing his wrist, pushing him in closer and pulling him back when it becomes too much

- communication is super important for him, so being able to gauge when he's getting too into it and what kinds of pressure you like are vital

- he loves the way you moan when he does it, so eventually, he's going to ask you to do it to him as well

WHISKEY

- a bit more vanilla than you'd expect from someone so forward, but is interested in this particular kink you have

- he'll trace the shell of your ear with his fingers, brush the side of your jaw, play with you lower lip, before cupping his hand lightly to your throat

- he likes to see how you fit so well in his hand, the way you gasp and shudder for him when he forces your chin up to look him in the eye

- the way his lip curls up when he realizes how smitten you are for him, the way he could tell you to do anything and you'd probably do it with the heat of his hand flush against your neck

- you have to show him how to do it properly, in order to not crush your windpipe, but he gets the hang of it swiftly enough

- is very possessive, and WILL allude to it in public

- he'll wrap his arm around your shoulders, and brush his fingers up against your neck

- he'll say you have something on your neck and go to wipe it away, his fingers splayed down the side of it

- he smiles when he sees your goosebumps, and you know you're in for it when you get home

JAVIER PEÑA

- he likes to kiss you with his hand wrapped around your neck

- to feel your heartbeat through your throat

- if it speeds up when he does it, he knows he's doing something right

- when he takes you from behind, he likes tugging on your hair, wrapping a hand securely around your throat so you know you're not going anywhere

- he really likes it, actually

- he loves the feeling of pressing you impossibly closer into him

- he likes to admire your beautiful throat, when your chest is pressed up against his and he's fucking up into you

- he'll grab your hair at the roots, and pull back on it, to wrap his fingers securely around the base of your throat, keeping you there

- his hands find every erogenous part of you they can, so to have one more spot he knows he can get you off with, that's all the more pleasure from javi

MARCUS MORENO

- he laughs mischievously when you ask him to do it

- he likes to get your blood rushing to all the hottest parts of you first

- he plants wet kisses to your neck, his nose pressing hard into your skin

- the way you heat up for him, and get so excited when he does it

- his free hand finds a way between your thighs and the other one curls around your throat

- it's great for when you're getting too loud and he's afraid you'll wake missy or alert the neighbors, even

- he loves listening to you pant heavily after you're done

- he also loves feeling you dig your nails into his back when you orgasm and his hand is wrapped around your throat

- those scratches aren't terribly difficult to hide, and the idea that you've marked him up as yours is reward enough for indulging in your requests

MARCUS PIKE

- will be the most reluctant, as nobody has ever asked this of him before

- he's scared of hurting you, but you seem to get really into it

- he's in awe of you when you push his hand harder and harder into your neck, moaning and whimpering soft and broken from underneath his grip

- he's not actually the one in charge here, but with his hand wrapped around your windpipe, her certainly feels like he is

- he doesn't want to leave bruises, and definitely checks up on you after the sex or the make out session

- you tell him that he doesn't have to worry as much, but that doesn't give him peace of mind

- it's only when you gently introduce him to the receiving end of it does he understand

- he doesn't like it as much as when you're writing and moaning underneath him, but he figures that if you like it, and he's really not hurting you, he doesn't mind you wrapping his fingers around your neck sometimes

MAX PHILLIPS

- max has always loved your neck, nipping at it, leaving hickeys, pressing his fingers into the pliable skin there

- so when you beg him to choke you, to force all the air out of your chest, to wrap his long fingers around your throat

- he doesn't need to be told twice

- he loves it so much, he starts doing it without needing to be asked

- he presses you up against a wall, or pins you to the bed, and squeezes just enough for you to just barely be able to breathe

- he fucks hard when he chokes you

- you swear you almost pass out when he does it, but he allows you to pull his hands back if he's getting too rough

- he likes to feel your hands wrapped around his throat too, mainly because he doesn't need to breathe, so seeing you fall apart on top of him, seeing your hands wrapped around such a delicate piece of him, squeezing as hard as you can as you ride out your orgasm

- he loves nothing more than orgasms, necks, and good business. and two out of three isn't bad

MAXWELL LORD

- he frames your face with his hands, thumbs tracing your cheeks, and you almost melt at his soft touch

- maxwell is usually quite eager, but gentle in the best ways

- the best part about when he chokes you and fucks you at the same time, is that he subconsciously squeezes in time with each of his thrusts

- his arm frames your head and his face is so close you yours and you just can't help trying to moan around his hand

- he loves loves loves hearing you moan, so usually he'll let up to allow them to escape your mouth

- but then he's right back on it, because he knows that the more he does it, the closer you'll get, and the louder you'll be

- his rings dig marks into your neck, but you love the cold contrast to the warmth of his fingers

OBERYN MARTELL

- will most definitely choke you if you ask him to

- he likes to have you demonstrate for him just exactly how you like it

- your breath hinges in your throat when he takes your hand in his, and presses it underneath his jaw, right above his adams apple

- and you press into his neck and his eyes narrow before he take you and pushes you down onto whatever surface is closest so he can fuck you

- he lights a fire in your core that's impossible to extinguish without him

- he likes to come up from behind you, wrap his hand around your throat, and shove his hand into your pants or up your dress or around whatever you're wearing

- and he loves to feel you push back against him when he does it

- he knows he's got you right where he wants you in that case

- his fingers flex around your throat and he tries to cover as much area at once

- he believes in allowing you to be as loud as you want, since he wants all of dorne to know how good of a lover he is

- but if his fingers are wrapped around your throat, he doesn't mind swallowing all of your moans in a kiss

PERO TOVAR

- tries to choke you out with two hands at first

- you really gotta slow him down and show him the ropes

- sometimes he gets excited about it, other times he's less enthusiastic

- but he loves pleasing you, deep down inside that cold heart of his

- which is why he obliges the request

- once he gets the hang of it, its over for you bitches

- he's up in your ear, panting and whispering dirty things, downright filthy things

- and he squeezes your neck tightly, his fingers wrapped snugly around your throat

- you swear his one hand almost wraps the entire way around, his fingers are so long

- he prefers fast and dirty sex, so this kind of kink is right up his alley

- especially because of how rough he can be with you

- when you two get close, he starts squeezing tighter and tighter, until you almost cant breathe, and your release, when he finally lets go, is one of the best orgasms you've ever had

- which is how pero accidentally discovers his breathplay kink

so um wow ok um not to sound creepy, but my name is natalie, i’m a sagittarius, i’m a griffindor and i’m 17 (i can’t handle the word penis though because i was an overachieving child that didn’t interact with the opposite gender so don’t worry i don’t read any of your 18+ fics but don’t judge please im just severely awkward when it come to sex and physical intimacy 👉👈) but um hi twin

hey twin!!!!! that’s the craziest thing ever, now we HAVE to be friends it’s a crime if we’re not!! i also was an overachieving child but that manifested itself into the person writing before you today,  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

so yeah, shoot me a message, sagittarius-gryffindor-natalie who is 17! maybe we’re even more alike than we originally thought!!!!