sometimes fic writers will pour hours, days, weeks, & months into writing for a character who barely gets content, only to see someone say there are “no decent stories” for them while openly admitting they’ve read the ones already out there.
and like… wow. thank you so much, I guess?
you cannot complain about wanting more content while refusing to support the people already making it. comments matter. reblogs matter. even a little “I loved this” matters more than you know.
fic writers are not content machines. we’re people doing this for free because we love it, and it gets really exhausting feeling invisible until someone wants to complain that there isn’t enough.
i love how you write frank. could you do a sub!frank fic w/ an afab!reader?
make him a whiney pathetic MESS! tysm 😋 (don't make reader too hard on him though...)
I'm so glad you like my writing! And of course i can <3 enjoy frank begging for forgiveness
GOOD BOY
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pairing: sub!frank iero x afab!reader
word count: 653
NSFW BELOW THE CUT!
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Frank was down on his knees, looking up at you with wide, hopeful eyes.
"Please," he begs, reaching for your pant leg and tugging. "I shouldn't have done that. I should've come home, I'm sorry baby. I didn't mean to piss you off."
You cross your arms above him, a scowl on your face. Frank went out drinking with his friends, which is fine, but it's nine in the fucking morning now, and you were pissed. You bring a foot up, shaking his hand off of your leg and pressing your foot to his crotch.
"Be quiet," you sigh, and he groans.
"Fuck, m'sorry,"
"I said be quiet." You say, reaching down and gripping his cheeks harshly. "For such a bad boy, you sure have a lot to say. If I were you, I would have tucked my tail and fucking ran." You frown, pressing your foot further into his crotch, now growing a bulge.
He looks up at you with wide eyes, cheeks squished in your palm, quivering beneath your touch.
"I think I need to remind you how good boys act, yeah?" You say, your harsh grip turning into a caress. Frank whimpers, leaning into your hand and trying to nuzzle it.
"I can be good," Frank mutters against your skin, licking his lips and glancing back over at your disappointed face. "I promise."
"Then show me," You frown, taking your foot off of his crotch and grabbing the collar of his shirt. You drag him behind you into the living room, plopping down on the couch and letting him kneel in front of you. You cross your legs, and place your foot right back on his crotch, a smirk on your lips. "C'mon, sweetie. Show me how good boys act, since you know so well."
He looks up at you, cheeks flushed and cock hard beneath your foot. He looks you in the eyes as he begins to slowly move his hips, grunting at the pressure and friction of your foot against him. He whimpers, "Can I touch you?"
"Yeah, baby." You say, and his hands come up to your legs, calloused fingers roaming the skin. He groans, rubbing against your foot, brows furrowing in pleasure.
"T-thank you," he stammers out in pleasure, voice soft and small. He grips your thighs desperately, rutting against you, mouth falling open, lips parted. "Fuck,"
"See, that's a good boy." You say, reaching out and cupping his cheek, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone as he grinds against your foot. "Good boys get to cum, did you know that?"
He nods desperately, almost drooling from the pleasure of rutting against you, letting out incoherent whimpers as he gets closer. You hear mixtures of your name and curses spilling from his mouth as you feel his cock twitch against your foot.
"I'm a good boy," he moans against your leg, nipping and kissing at the skin desperately. "Please, let me cum, I promise I'll be good. I'll never do it again, please, I cant," he whimpers, grinding desperately.
"Fine, sweetie. Go ahead and cum, you did good. I forgive you." You smile, and he lets out a sigh of relief, rutting against you a few more times before he's shaking, holding onto your legs tightly and twitching against your foot as he cums in his jeans. He buries his face in your thighs, crying out, gripping you as he thrusts a few more times against your foot.
"Thank you, thank you," he repeats mindlessly, grinding gently in the afterglow. "Thank you."
"Don't do it again, okay?" You say, leaning down and cupping his cheek. "Please, be good for me. I don't like being mean."
Frank hesitates for a moment, because if being a bad boy gets him this, he wants to be bad all the time - but he smiles a bit, a fucked out grin on his face. "I'll be a good boy, promise."
Taking another break (i know, shoot me.) i fell out of love with writing and i need to read and relearn what i like about it. If you write, you've been there.
Ask me questions in the meantime.
AND, im SUPER active on instagram right now. Come love on me.
