#dwight manfredi

[littledozerdraws]

get yourself a new york ex-con old man sugar dad like mitch keller did 💞

[littledozerbaby]

"I'll eat later, thanks."

[bullet-prooflove]

Stay Tonight: Dwight Manfredi x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @skellyagogo @sca3a @kenbechillin @mandy426

Companion piece to:

Dior - Dwight wakes up to the scent of Dior and lipstick on his chest.

Gunpowder & Roses - Dwight's enemies make a mistake when they come after you.

Hell of A Message - You send a message to your ex Bill.

The Cowboy At Your Door - Your ex Bill shows up in response to your message.

You’re tired.

Dwight can see that the moment you open the door to him. Your smile doesn’t quite meet your eyes and there’s a weariness in you that he’s never seen before. He realises that’s because you hide this part of yourself, the human side, the vulnerable side. He wants you to know you don’t have to do that with him, that he wants every part of you, not just the persona you put on for everybody else.

“You gonna let me take care of you tonight?” He asks you as he leans in the doorway, the black leather overnight bag clasped in his hand.

“I’m too tired to fuck.” You tell him and he smiles because he finds your forthrightness very refreshing.

“Well I’d like to think I’m a good cuddler.” He tells you and it’s your turn to smile because it’s been a long time since you’ve gone to bed with a man that hasn’t wanted something from you.

He takes his time undressing you, his fingers undoing the each of the buttons of the dress shirt you’re wearing as his gaze stays fixed on yours. You’re beautiful even with the bruising. A masterpiece draped in cotton and ink. This thing between the two of you, it may have started as a very physical attraction but it’s become more far more than that over the past few weeks.  The fabric flutters from your shoulders, falling to the floor before Dwight helps you to remove your bra and panties. He picks up the blue and white striped pyjama set you’ve already laid out across the bed, helping you into the elasticated shorts before drawing the shirt up your shoulders and fastening each of the buttons.

“Thank you.” You say softly as his thumb ghosts along your jaw and he realises it’s been a long time since someone has looked after you.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He whispers, his mouth capturing yours in a tender kiss. “This is what you do when you care about someone.”

He gets you settled into bed before he begins to unpack his own overnight bag, setting the items down onto dressing table and chair. He likes the look of his things intermingled with yours, the blend of masculinity and femininity, he wonders if this is what it could look like in the future if you continue down this road.

“Dwight.” You say with a hint of amusement as he pulls out his clothing. “Did you bring pyjamas?”

“I did.” He says as he turns to face you, holding up the black silk bottoms. “I thought I’d bring the  appropriate attire considering we’re having our first sleepover.”

The two of you have fucked before but he never wakes up with you, you always leave before the sun rises. Him being here tonight, it changes things, it shows that he’s invested, the fact you’re letting him stay, it shows that you are too.

“I hope you don’t snore.” He says as he climbs into bed alongside of you. His arm wraps around your waist, gathering you up close. Your legs tangle with his as he tucks you in against his chest.

“I wouldn’t know.” You tell him, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “You’re the first man to sleep over since I bought the place.”

“That seems fitting considering you were my first.” He whispers, his lips brushing over yours.

His fingertips trace over your features and he can feel your body starting to relax against him as your eyes flutter closed. You’re breathing starts to even out and you nuzzle in a little closer, your palm coming to rest on the space where his heart resides in his chest.

People think that sex is the most intimate thing you can do with a person but Dwight thinks it’s this. Putting your faith in someone else when you’re at your most exposed, it’s not something people in your line of work do. He thinks it speaks volumes about the direction your relationship is heading.

“Good night baby.” He whispers, his lips ghosting over your temple. “I hope you have the sweetest damn dreams.”

Love Dwight? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[zoidennnfie]

:P

[razberry-cookie]

trying out some new stuff with my art style again

[redpool]

I just think it's funny that New York and Bevilaqua are plotting and scheming, meanwhile Mitch and Dwight on a sidequest about starting a car dealership.

[nebulastarr]

Mitch Keller from Tulsa King has my whole heart right now

[marmie-noir]

A Good Girl

AKA Dwight being a perceptive ass.

For once I was the one behind the bar. My arms were crossed and I gave the man before me a rather unimpressed look, taking in the New York Italian man that seemed to be a regular more often than not these days. He sipped his drink, bourbon that I myself had poured, looking back at me with a raised brow. 

It wasn’t quiet. While it was early it wasn’t dead, the bar had a few people in it, and the kitchen was loud behind the door, but I didn’t speak as I stared down the mobster. Dwight took another sip before setting the drink down, clearing his throat. “Have I done something to offend you?” “Why would you think that?” I asked, shifting my weight and my lips thinning to a line. 

“Cause you are looking at me like you wanna decorate your walls with my insides.” He said bluntly, dark eyes meeting mine. I didn’t blink, didn’t speak for a few moments before taking a step towards the bar and leaning on it, leaning in towards him. “You are bad news. Men like you are always bad news. I don’t like you around this place, around Mitch.” 

He hummed, looking down at his drink a moment before glancing back up at me. “So that is what this is about. You and Mitch, hm?” I narrowed my eyes, fighting off the blush that threatened to spread up my neck to my cheeks. “I certainly did not say that.” I snapped back, knowing right after it left me that was sign enough. I was showing my hand to this man, all but confessing that I cared about Mitch. That this was personal. Fuck. 

“Didn’t know you two were together.” He said, not with malice but with a genuine carelessness, as if it didn’t really impact him. Not that it would. He nudged his glass forward, empty, and I huffed but grabbed the bottle to pour him some more. “We aren’t together, not that it’s your business. He’s just a good guy, and men like you use good guys.” I explained, putting the bourbon bottle back into it’s spot, annoyed that I was now in this situation. I wasn’t about to pour my heart out to this mobster, to let him know that Mitch was my safe place, that this bar and his house and pops had become home in a way that four walls and a roof never could be. I felt safe. Secure. I wasn’t going to let that slip through my fingers. 

“Sweetheart, I can promise you. I have no intentions of hurting or using that man any more than he is me. We have a mutual interest, a common understanding. We are going to make some money together and that will be that.” His deep voice and heavy accent had a tune of honesty but I didn’t trust it. I distrusted men like that, men who saw all situations as options to get richer, to do things regardless of law. 

“I don’t give a damn what you say,” I said quietly, nails tapping on the bar top as I leaned in. “I can’t stop him from making decisions, but I’m warning you Dwight. Don’t you dare hurt that man.” 

“Darlin’, table 5’s food is in the window.” That familiar voice made me straighten, looking over to see Mitch standing there looking amused, his blue eyes jumping between me and Dwight with a small tilt of his head. Curious. I blushed and ducked my head, walking past Mitch towards the kitchen to grab the food for my tables, leaving Mitch at the bar. The two men watched me duck behind the wall and Mitch looked at Dwight with a raised brow. “Do I even want to know what you two were whispering about?” He asked, grabbing himself a glass for a splash of bourbon himself, topping off Dwight’s at the same time. 

“Got yourself a good girl there, Mitch.” Dwight responded with a little smile, lifting his glass in a small cheers. “Don’t you let that slip through your fingers. Trust me, it will be the greatest mistake of your life.” Mitch gave him a raised brow before glancing over to where I was passing out chicken strip platters and burger baskets, smiling at the customers while checking for if they needed anything else. Without another word he tossed back the rest of his drink, looking at Dwight with a half smile. 

Read more Sunny and Mitch here

[rockyapboa]

john rambo, rocky balboa, barney ross and dwight manfredi in one house. theyre housemates.

[khepiari]

I started watching Tulsa King as research for Mafia LawLu fic that was requested on my strawpage, now I am looking disrespectfully at Mr Stallone, why is a 78 year old grandpa so handsome and charismatic 😂

[nightwingisromani]

dwight manfredi is a hopeless romantic send tweet

[littledozerdraws]

I'm sorrryyyyy?!??!?

[bullet-prooflove]

The Cowboy At Your Door: Dwight Manfredi x Reader (feat:  Bill Bevilaqua)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @skellyagogo @sca3a @kenbechillin @mandy426

Companion piece to:

Poker Face - Dwight's night takes a turn when he meets you for the first time at a poker game.

Dior - Dwight wakes up to the scent of Dior and lipstick on his chest.

Gunpowder & Roses - Dwight's enemies make a mistake when they come after you.

Hell of A Message - You send a message to your ex Bill.

There’s a cowboy at your door. One with a black hat, heated eyes and a smile that’s made for sin.

“I got your message.” Bill Bevilaqua says as he stands on your porch, his hands tucked into the back pockets of his Wranglers.

You tuck your hair back behind your ear so he can see the bruising blossoming across your features.

“I got yours too.”

His gaze darkens, his jaw tightening as he surveys the butterfly stitches, the busted lip. He reaches out, his fingertips tracing over the place where Joey’s ring split your skin.

“I’d kill him myself if you hadn’t done it already.” He tells you and you can see the sincerity of it in his eyes before you open your door and invite him into the house.

“We should talk.” You say and he doesn’t respond as he steps into your living room, drinking in the essence of you.

It’s the first time he’s been to your home. It’s light, airy and somehow cosy at the same time. Soft greys give way to berry and blush undertones creating a warmth that was never present in the house that you lived in together. His personality and heritage had dominated the ranch that you’d shared. It was always harsh, always masculine, the same way that everything was in his family.

“This is what our home should have been like.” He says as he turns to face you, his thumbs looped through the rungs of his jeans.

“There was never any room for me underneath all that toxic masculinity.” You remind him as you settle down into the stone grey love seat.

No there hadn’t been, not in the world you were both born into. You were the only child of Vinnie Cincinetti, head of one of the most powerful crime families in Oklahoma. You would have been a force to be reckoned with if you’d taken up the mantle, instead you’d been married off to the Bevilaqua syndicate because you weren’t the right gender to lead.

It may have been an arranged marriage but Bill had fallen in love with you almost immediately. Instead of being the pretty, little wife that sat at home and spent his money, you earned your own by running poker games and pulling in whales that thought nothing about throwing down six figures at one of the most exclusive card tables in the country.

It isn’t until he catches a snide remark from his cousin Frank that he realises that your success is making him look weak, like he can’t control his wife, that he’s not providing for her. The thing is, he’s never seen you as exhilarated as when you’re running those games. You’ve never been so happy, so engaged and he knows in that moment he has to let you go because you were destined to be much more than just a gangster’s wife.

So he divorces you, sets you free and he hopes that maybe one day, when you’ll return to him. It’s been five years since you left Kansas and you’ve still not come home. He’s starting to doubt you ever will despite the nights you’ve shared since.

He takes a seat on the sofa close to you, taking off his hat and setting it upon the dark wood coffee table.

“You need to meet with Manfredi.” You tell him, running a hand through your hair and shaking it out so it falls across your features. “Sort out this territory dispute before it turns into something.”

He sinks into the plush comfort of your couch, his gaze drinking you in. It’s only now as he looks at you that he realises you’re wearing a man’s dress shirt and it riles something inside of him.

“Darlin.” He drawls. “It’s already something. I can’t have New York coming here and stepping on my shit….”

“It isn’t really your shit though is it?” You respond, leaning forward and his gaze strays to the dip in the shirt you’re wearing. Your bra is visible, he can see the contrasting black lace against your skin. “You gave Tulsa to me.”

“You’re still an extension of the Bevilaqua Family even if we aren’t married anymore.” He reminds you, shrugging his shoulders.

“Tulsa is my playground.” You say fiercely before giving him a knowing look. “The real problem is you don’t like the fact there’s another kid playing in it.”

“No.” He says pointedly. “I don’t.”

You sigh as you recross your legs and he catches a flash of that tattoo on your inner thigh, the one that covers his mark. His family, they brand their property. Horses, drugs, their wives too. You hadn’t screamed when they’d forced it on you, you’d bitten down on his belt instead, stifling your agony. He still wears the damn thing around his waist, your teeth indentations still etched into the leather.

“I heard you got it covered.” He says gesturing to the space between your legs. “I want to see it.”

You sigh as you part your thighs, the dress shirt creeping up so that your black panties are on display. His gaze comes to rest on the greyscale dahlias inked onto your skin, they cover the entirety of the brand, obscuring it from view. He sinks to his knees in front of you, his calloused palm coming to rest on your thigh as his thumb traces over scarring underneath, the ‘B’ etched into your skin for eternity.

“I’ll always be a part of you.” He whispers, his lips ghosting over the edge of your tattoo. “And you’ll always have a part of me.”

Your hand rakes through his dark hair, grip tightening on the roots, making him moan against your skin. He’s been hard since he laid eyes on you, it’s the way he’s always been with you. He gets off on the coolness, the indifference, it only makes him try harder to earn your attention. You tug his head back to meet your eyes and his whole body feels like it’s on fire.

“So…” You say, your voice dropping an octave. “Do I get my meeting or not?”

He’d give you anything you in this moment because all he wants is to spend the night between your legs, his tongue thrust in your pussy until you see God. He wants to feel you coming on his cock as you use him like a fucktoy, like he’s nothing but a vessel for your pleasure.

“Bill.” You say, your voice like silk caressing his skin. “Do I get my meeting?”

“Yes.” He bites out.

“Good boy.” You murmur, your palm lightly slapping his cheek and his dick fucking leaks, smearing the inside of his underwear. “You can go now.”

“Dahlia…” He implores but he knows he’s lost because you’re wearing sitting here in another man’s shirt, your gaze already flickering to the clock on the mantlepiece.

“No Bill.” You say, indicating to the bruising on your face. “You don’t deserve my pussy tonight.”

Love Dwight? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[lady-manfredi]

Imagine going on a date with Dwight. For him this is the first time he's going out with anybody since leaving prison.

He's super nervous and thinks it doesn't show, but his fidgeting gives it away. He's constantly looking over as if checking to see this is real, that you are real. He can't believe his luck to have found a woman as beautiful as you. Occasionally, he rubs his palms together and you have to fight real hard to contain your laughter. He's just utterly adorable.

[razberry-cookie]

Self indulgent art dump I fear, excited for what's gonna happen in Tulsa King season 2

also yes I made a oc insert its a curse a wear with much shame.. He is named Damiano and he is related to Sullivan a previous oc insert in the Rambo series cus I thought it was funny

[reveluving]

Ep. 1 literally makes me wanna go "sure, grandpa let's get you to bed" because Dwight PLEASEEEE if you could just LISTEN 😭